A neglected mother, a son with a gift, and unmet needs create the perfect storm.

The smell of stale sweat clung to Danny’s headphones, muffling the tinny thrash metal blasting directly into his ears. Wednesday evening stretched, quiet and humid in his small bedroom. One hand idly traced the waistband of his worn gray sweatpants, dipping lower as the bassline thumped against his skull.

He kicked the covers off entirely, the cool air hitting his bare legs. Fingers wrapped around himself, warm and familiar. The rhythm of his strokes matched the frantic guitar solo, speeding up until his hips jerked off the mattress. A choked gasp escaped him as thick white ropes arced onto his smooth, pale chest. He kept pumping, breath ragged, head thrown back against the pillow.

Eyes still closed, Danny fumbled blindly across the rumpled sheets for the tissues he kept hidden under the mattress edge. He needed to clean up before his mom yelled about dinner. His fingers brushed empty space. He blinked, vision clearing slowly. Standing frozen in the doorway, laundry basket overturned at her feet, was his mother. Her knuckle was pressed hard against her teeth, biting down. Her wide blue eyes weren’t on his face, or his messy chest. They were fixed, unblinking, on his softening cock still lying thick against his thigh.

“Mom!” Danny yelled, scrambling backwards. He yanked the crumpled sheet up over his hips, face burning hotter than the flush of his orgasm. “Knock! Oh my god, knock!”

Lauren flinched as if slapped. The basket tumbled again, spilling socks onto the worn carpet. “I-I’m so sorry, Danny,” she stammered, the words tumbling out too fast. Her voice sounded tight, breathless. She bent down, movements jerky, grabbing socks without looking at him. “Just laundry… forgot to knock… sorry…” She scooped up the basket, clutching it like a shield. Her gaze darted past him, avoiding his covered lap, avoiding his furious blush. She backed out quickly, pulling the door shut with a sharp click.

Danny stared at the closed door, heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. Humiliation washed over him in cold waves. He looked down at the sticky mess cooling on his chest and stomach. How long had she been standing there?

The image flashed back – her knuckle jammed in her mouth, that intense, unreadable stare locked onto him. Not horror. Not disgust. Something else entirely. He stripped off the soiled sheet, balling it up with shaking hands, and shoved it into the laundry hamper.

He scrubbed himself hastily with tissues, the abrasive paper rough on his skin. Outside, leaning against the cool hallway wall just out of sight, Lauren pressed a trembling hand to her racing heart. The image played on a loop behind her eyelids: the thick arching jets hitting his skin, the sheer shocking size of him straining in his grip before release. Heat pooled low in her belly, unexpected and sharp. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the vivid picture. It didn’t work.

Downstairs, dinner was a tense, silent affair punctuated only by the roar of ESPN highlights from the living room TV. Tom shoveled pasta into his mouth, eyes glued to replays. Lauren pushed her food around her plate. The clatter of Danny’s fork sounded unnaturally loud. She couldn’t meet his eyes; her gaze kept flickering down towards his lap, hidden beneath the tablecloth. The silence thickened.

“More garlic bread?” she asked abruptly, voice strained. Danny shook his head mutely. Tom grunted, “Pass the parmesan.” Lauren moved mechanically. She felt Danny’s eyes on her – not accusatory now, but curious, lingering on the curve of her hip as she leaned across the table. She felt strangely exposed in her soft, faded jeans and thin cotton blouse. The thought *he was looking at me* sent another illicit thrill through her, mingling with her lingering guilt.

Later, clutching a neatly folded stack of clean sheets like armour, Lauren paused outside Danny’s door again. The door was slightly ajar, just as she’d left it. Taking a shaky breath, she tapped softly. “Danny?” His voice, muffled and wary: “Yeah?”

She pushed the door open. He was sitting on the stripped mattress, wearing fresh sweatpants, flipping through a worn comic book. He glanced up quickly, then away, cheeks flushing anew. “Brought you clean sheets,” she said, voice too bright. “Thought… after the laundry mishap…”

She trailed off, awkwardly shifting her weight. His eyes flickered over her – the way her thin blouse hinted at the swell of her breasts without a bra, the snug fit of her jeans emphasizing her small waist and rounded backside. It was a fleeting glance, but Lauren caught it. A spark of something bold ignited in her chest, pushing past the awkwardness.

“Here,” she said, walking towards the bed. “Let me help.” She unfolded the fitted sheet, her movements deliberate. As she leaned across the mattress near him to tuck in a corner, she felt the warmth radiating from his body. She smelled faintly of vanilla lotion and laundry detergent. Danny swallowed hard, trying not to stare at the enticing curve of her ass inches from his face as she bent over the bed.

Lauren smoothed the top sheet meticulously, her movements slow, deliberate. The silence stretched, thick and charged. She could feel Danny’s gaze tracking her every move – across her shoulders, down her spine, lingering. The heat radiating from him was palpable.

“About earlier,” she murmured, her voice low and husky despite herself. She straightened, turning towards him slightly. His eyes snapped up to hers, wide and dark. “I really am sorry,” she continued, holding his gaze, a faint blush creeping up her own neck. “I shouldn’t have barged in like that.” She paused, letting the silence hang heavy. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. “Forgive me?”

Danny stared back, mesmerized. The awkwardness was still there, tangled tightly with something else entirely – a dizzying, forbidden pull. He saw the apology in her eyes, but underneath it, something else shimmered. Something hungry. He managed a jerky nod. “Yeah,” he rasped. “It’s… okay.” Lauren smiled fully then, a soft, relieved curve of her lips that didn’t quite reach the heat in her eyes.

“Good,” she breathed. She gave the pillowcase a final pat, her fingers brushing lightly against the mattress near his leg. “Take a shower, Danny, before you sleep on these clean sheets.” She turned and walked out, leaving the scent of vanilla and the echo of her words hanging in the charged air.

Downstairs, Lauren leaned against the kitchen counter, listening intently. The pipes groaned, a familiar sound, then the steady hiss of water hitting tile echoed faintly from upstairs. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

The image flooded back instantly: Danny sprawled on his bed, flushed, pumping his thick cock, those creamy ropes spurting onto his pale skin. *Why did he have to have a cock like that?* The thought was a desperate mantra now. It was enormous, thick-veined, long.

Heat bloomed low in her belly, pooling dampness between her legs. She felt drawn to the sound of the water like a moth to a flame. Could she… just peek? Just see it again? Just once? The fantasy was vivid, urgent – picturing the steam swirling around him, water sluicing down his lean frame, that hard shaft gripped in his fist. Her breath hitched.

Tom was oblivious, slumped on the couch downstairs, another beer cracked open, the drone of ESPN filling the living room. The distance felt cavernous, freeing. The temptation coiled tight, irresistible. She moved silently towards the stairs.

The bathroom door was unlocked. Lauren slipped inside like a ghost, the humid air instantly clinging to her skin. Steam billowed from behind the cheap plastic curtain, obscuring everything but the blurry silhouette of Danny’s body: the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his waist, the motion of his arm.

He was facing away from her, head tilted back under the spray. Her breath caught. She could hear the rhythmic splash of water, the slick, wet sound beneath it – unmistakable. He was stroking himself again. Her pulse roared in her ears. Slowly, silently, she lowered herself onto the closed toilet lid, pretending she was sitting to pee.

Her eyes remained riveted on the curtain. The steam shifted; for a fleeting second, the plastic pressed flat against his hip, outlining the unmistakable jut of his erection. Thick, heavy. Her mouth went dry. Could she risk pulling the curtain back? Just a fraction? Just enough to see it properly? To see *him*? Desire warred with panic, her fingers twitching at her sides.

The slick sounds grew faster, louder. She leaned forward unconsciously, straining to see more through the milky plastic, her own core clenching with desperate need. The shape of his hand moving up and down was tantalizingly opaque, maddeningly close.

He shifted suddenly under the spray. Lauren froze, heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. Had he heard her? Felt her presence? His silhouette turned slightly. Through the steam and the cheap curtain, she saw his head turn towards the toilet. His arm stopped moving.

“Mom?” The voice was thick with shock and confusion, cutting through the drumming water. Lauren’s breath stopped. Caught. She was pinned, crouched awkwardly on the toilet seat, face flushed crimson, caught in the undeniable act of watching him. Her mind raced, panic threatening to choke her. She couldn’t flee. Couldn’t pretend she wasn’t here.

Screwing her courage tight, fueled by weeks of pent-up loneliness and the desperate image scorched into her brain, Lauren stood slowly. Her trembling hand reached out, fingers curling around the cool, damp edge of the shower curtain, pullingit aside a few inches, to see him, wet, naked, and oh so hard. She met his wide, startled eyes through the haze of steam.

Her voice, when it came, was a low, trembling whisper that carried over the rushing water: “Don’t stop.”

Danny stared, frozen under the relentless spray, water plastering his dark hair to his forehead. His hand remained wrapped around his hard shaft, slick and soapy. Confusion warred with a sudden, dizzying surge of adrenaline. His mother stood there, fully clothed, her blouse clinging damply to her curves in the humid air, her gaze locked hungrily on his groin.

“But what if Dad…” he stammered, his voice cracking, a reflexive flicker of fear darting through him. Yet, impossibly, his fingers tightened instinctively, his thumb brushing the swollen head. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t stop moving. The forbidden fantasy – his mother, right here, watching him – was suddenly, terrifyingly real. Seeing her intense stare fixed on his cock, hearing her desperate plea, pushed him past hesitation. He felt himself swell impossibly harder, thicker, pulsing hotly in his own grip. The water beat down, washing away soap but not the raw tension thickening the air.

“Your dad…” Lauren breathed, stepping closer, her bare feet silent on the wet tile. Her eyes never left his stroking hand. She licked her lips, tasting the humid steam. “He’s oblivious, Danny. Downstairs, right now. ESPN, beer… he doesn’t see *me*.” Her voice cracked, thick with unshed tears and years of aching emptiness. “He hasn’t touched me… not like a husband should… in months.”

Her gaze lifted briefly to his face, pleading, vulnerable. She gestured weakly towards the curtain rod, her hand shaking. “Please… just let me watch?” Her blue eyes shimmered with a potent mix of loneliness and raw, naked lust. “Let me see you… finish? It’s all I want.”

The plea hung in the steamy air, raw and desperate. Danny’s breath hitched. He saw the truth of her neglect etched in her face, felt it resonate with the strange protectiveness blooming alongside his own arousal. Her need mirrored his own forbidden hunger. His strokes resumed, slow at first, then gaining a rhythmic urgency, his eyes locked on hers. The slick, wet sound filled the small room, amplified by the steam and her rapt, hungry attention.

Lauren’s trembling fingers curled tighter around the damp plastic curtain. With a hesitant tug, she pulled it back enough to expose his entire torso and the frantic motion of his fist around his slick, flushed cock. The thick veins pulsed visibly against his pale skin. Water streamed down his lean stomach, past his knuckles, dripping onto the tile floor between them. Her breath escaped in a shuddering sigh.

“The water… Danny,” she murmured, her voice a husky rasp. “Turn it off? Please? Let me… see you properly.” He obeyed instantly, fumbling blindly for the faucet knob behind him. The sudden silence was profound, broken only by their ragged breathing and the frantic slide of his hand. Lauren dropped her gaze back to his groin, mesmerized by the sheer size of him, the flushed head peeking from his tight grip.

“Turn towards me?” she whispered, stepping fully into the shower enclosure, ignoring the water soaking her jeans. “Let me… look. Just look.” Danny pivoted awkwardly, his wet soles slipping slightly on the porcelain. He faced her fully now, his cock jutting out fiercely towards her face, glistening wetly under the harsh bathroom light.

Without another word, Lauren slowly sank to her knees on the wet tile floor. Her soaked jeans clung coldly to her thighs. She gazed up at him, her blonde hair dampening in the humid air, her expression one of pure, awestruck reverence. Her eyes traced the thick shaft, the swollen purple head, the pearly bead of pre-cum pooling at the slit. She leaned forward slightly, her lips parting unconsciously.

“God, Danny,” she breathed, the words barely audible. “You’re… perfect.” Her hands clenched in her lap, knuckles white, resisting the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch. She simply knelt there, transfixed, worshipping the sight before her – her son’s immense erection throbbing inches from her face. The air crackled with unspeakable tension. Danny watched her, frozen except for the relentless pump of his fist.

Seeing his mother kneeling before him like this, her eyes wide with desire, her lips slightly parted, sent a jolt of pure, electric lust straight to his groin. He felt his balls tighten, the familiar pressure building unbearably fast. “Mom…” he gasped, his voice thick with warning. “I’m… I’m gonna…”

“No!” Lauren surged forward instinctively, her hand flying out to gently grasp his wrist. “Danny, stop. Please. Right now.” Her fingers trembled against his wet skin. She shifted forward a little on her knees. “Just… slow down. Don’t cum yet, please?” Her plea was desperate, urgent. “I’m not ready… I haven’t… *seen* enough.”

Danny froze, panting. He slowly lifted his hand away. Released, his cock sprang forward, pulsing violently, thick veins bulging obscenely as it strained towards her face, seemingly with a life of its own. A thick strand of pre-cum stretched and snapped onto her damp blouse. Lauren gasped softly, her eyes widening further. “Oh…” she breathed, utterly captivated by the uncontrolled twitch and swell. She scrambled to her feet, water dripping from her clothes, and lunged silently for the bathroom door. The quiet *click* of the lock echoed like a gunshot.

Instantly, she returned to her knees before him, her gaze locked once more on the magnificent, straining shaft. A minute passed, filled only by their ragged breathing and the drip of water, as she memorized every inch, every vein, every follicle of hair, the heavy size of his balls beneath the quivering shaft. Every detail, committed to memory. It was breathtaking, mesmerizing.

Gradually, its frantic pulsing subsided slightly, though it remained fiercely hard. She finally tore her eyes away and looked up into his face, her expression pleading, vulnerable. “Let me?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Please? We’ll go slow?”

One trembling hand slipped down beneath the waistband of her soaked jeans, down into the molten wet heat throbbing demandingly in her crotch, her fingers disappearing. The other hand rose slowly, tentatively, towards his hip. “Please?” she begged again, her eyes shimmering with need.

Danny watched her hand vanish into her panties, saw the subtle shift beneath the fabric. This was his fantasy made flesh. His hot, beautiful mother was kneeling before him, touching herself while staring at his cock. The sight was unbearably erotic. He took a short, jerky step forward, bringing his wet hips closer to her face. “OK, mom,” he rasped, his voice thick with disbelief and mounting desire. “Do whatever you want to.”

Her fingertips brushed his hipbone first, feather-light, hesitant. Then, slowly, deliberately, she traced a trembling path downward. Not gripping, not stroking. Just tracing. Her index finger ran lightly along the prominent vein snaking up the underside of his shaft. Her touch was electric, sending shivers through him. She circled the heavy sac beneath, her finger pads brushing softly over the tight skin, feeling the weight. Her breath hitched audibly.

Slowly, she drew her finger upwards, gathering the glistening bead of pre-cum pooling at his swollen tip. She spread it slowly, meticulously, down the thick shaft, coating it in a slick sheen, her eyes blazing with rapturous intensity, fixed entirely on her task. Her other hand moved frantically beneath her jeans, hidden but unmistakable in its rhythm. Her lips parted, breathing ragged through her lips.

She was lost in worship, adoring him with her touch, her gaze, her entire being focused on the magnificent sight before her. A small, choked moan escaped her. Her hips jerked forward against her hidden fingers. Her eyes squeezed shut for a fraction of a second, her head tilting back slightly. “Danny…” she gasped, her voice thick with stunned pleasure, her eyes snapping open to lock onto his. “Oh god… Danny!”

Her body tensed, shuddered violently against her hand. Her eyes, wide and dark, held his gaze unwaveringly as a low, trembling groan vibrated deep in her chest. She rode the wave silently, her face flushed, her lips trembling, her entire body taut with the intensity of her release. She stayed frozen like that for several ragged breaths, staring into her son’s eyes as the aftershocks pulsed through her.

The stillness shattered. Her hand, slick and trembling from her own climax, shot out. She wrapped her fingers firmly around the base of his thick shaft. It felt impossibly hot and hard in her grasp. “Now,” she breathed, her voice hoarse and urgent. “Now it’s *your* turn.” She leaned forward eagerly, her breath hot against the slick skin. Her thumb swirled firmly over the swollen crown, spreading more pre-cum.

“Watch me,” she begged softly, her eyes lifting briefly to his before locking back onto the pulsing head inches from her lips. Her other hand finally withdrew from her panties, wet fingers gripping his hipbone for balance. She began stroking him slowly, deliberately, her fist gliding up and down the thick, veined length coated in his own slickness. Up… down… twisting slightly at the top. Her eyes devoured every inch – the flushed purple head, the thick ridge, the prominent veins throbbing beneath her touch. Her breath came in short, hot pants against his straining flesh.

“So beautiful,” she murmured, almost to herself, her voice thick with reverence. “Look at how hard you are for Mommy… Look at how much you need this.” Her strokes quickened, becoming more assertive. She leaned closer still, her nose almost brushing his skin, inhaling the scent of him mixed with soap and steam. The tip nudged her chin. She tilted her head slightly, her lips parted, hovering tantalizingly close.

“Please…tell me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with raw need. “Tell me how badly you want Mommy’s mouth.” Her hand moved faster, slick sounds filling the humid silence. “Tell me you need to cum… right here… right now.”

“Mom!” Danny choked out, his voice cracking under the onslaught of sensation and panic. His hips jerked involuntarily against her tight fist. “I-I need… please… I’m gonna…” The words tumbled out, thick with desperation and the unbearable pressure building in his balls. “Please… let me… *cum*!”

His eyes were wide, pleading, locked onto her parted lips so close to his aching tip. Fear warred with overwhelming need – fear of his father downstairs, fear of this impossible reality, but the sheer visual of his mother kneeling, stroking him, begging him to tell her what he wanted… it shattered his last shreds of hesitation. “Please… Mommy… suck it… *now*!”

The plea was raw, trembling, escaping on a ragged gasp. He couldn’t hold back anymore; his body strained towards her, seeking release, seeking the wet heat he craved.

A sigh of pure, blissful relief escaped Lauren. It wasn’t words, just a soft, hot breath washing over the slick crown of his cock. “Thank you,” she breathed, the whisper a reverent exhale against his throbbing flesh. Her blue eyes, dark with lust and triumph, met his for a fleeting, intense second. Then, without breaking eye contact, she opened her mouth wide.

Slowly, deliberately, she leaned forward. Her lips stretched wide around the thick, flared head. There was no hesitation, no teasing flick of her tongue. She took him in completely, engulfing him in one slow, fluid descent. Her throat opened, relaxed, accepting the thick invasion. Down… down… deeper still.

Her lips slid steadily past the shaft, past the ridge, past the swollen base. Her chin pressed firmly against the tight skin of his swollen balls, nestling against the heavy weight beneath. She held him there, buried to the hilt in the hot, wet depths of her throat. Her nostrils flared slightly as she adjusted to the sheer size filling her mouth and stretching her throat. Her eyes, watering slightly, remained locked upward on his stunned face, filled with utter devotion.

A low, muffled groan vibrated against his flesh from deep within her chest. She stayed utterly still for a heartbeat, her beautiful pink full lips softly around his base, showing him she had taken *every* inch. The message was clear: he was hers.

The sensation was overwhelming – hot, wet, tight, and utterly engulfing. The pressure was immense, but it was the sudden, shocking *depth*, the feeling of his entire length sheathed in slick heat, that drove Danny wild. He gasped, a choked, ragged sound, his hands flying instinctively to tangle in her damp blonde hair. Her throat pulsed gently around him.

The muffled groan she gave vibrated through his core, sending jolts of pure electricity straight to his balls. He felt trapped, possessed, utterly claimed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t thrust – pinned by the incredible suction and the firm pressure of her chin against his sac. All he could do was feel the intense, wet heat surrounding him completely.

He stared down, mesmerized, at the sight: her lips stretched wide around the base of his shaft, her cheeks hollowed, her throat bulging slightly where he filled her. Her eyes, watering but bright with determination and worship, stared unwaveringly up at him. She held him like that, buried impossibly deep, for several agonizingly perfect seconds. Then, slowly, agonizingly slowly, she began to withdraw.

Her lips slid back up his slick shaft with exquisite friction, maintaining suction the entire way. The swollen crown finally popped free from her stretched lips with a soft, wet *plop*. A thick strand of saliva stretched from her bottom lip to his glistening tip. She paused, catching her breath, her chest heaving. Her tongue darted out, lapping hungrily across the sensitive slit, gathering the fresh flood of pre-cum leaking from him.

Her eyes never left his. She didn’t speak. She simply took a quick breath through her nose, opened wider than before, and plunged back down, taking him deep again in one smooth, relentless glide. Chin on balls. Throat full. The rhythm began – slow, deep, worshipful sucks, pulling him entirely into her wet furnace each time before withdrawing almost completely, only to plunge back down relentlessly. The wet sounds filled the steamy bathroom, mingling with Danny’s ragged gasps and Lauren’s muffled groans of satisfaction.

Her hands gripped his hips now, pulling him closer with each descent, urging him deeper still. She was devouring him, claiming him, worshipping him with every deep, throat-filling stroke.

Danny’s control evaporated. The relentless rhythm, the wet heat, the visual of his mother eagerly swallowing him whole – it was too much. His hips began to jerk involuntarily against her grip. The pressure built unbearably fast, a familiar tightness coiling deep in his belly, spreading like wildfire through his groin. “Mom!” he gasped, his voice thick with panic and imminent release, fingers tightening painfully in her hair. “I’m gonna… right now… I can’t—!” His warning was cut short by a sharp intake of breath. Lauren sensed it instantly.

With a wet, sucking sound, she pulled back sharply, releasing his cock completely just as the first violent spasm tore through him. Her hands flew into action. One gripped the base of his shaft tightly, fingers digging in. The other wrapped firmly around the swollen head, aiming the purple crown directly at her waiting face. Her eyes blazed with frantic hunger.

“Cum!” she plead hungrily, her voice a raw, throaty rasp. “Cum in Mommy’s mouth! Coat my face! Give it all to me, please!” She thrust her tongue out, flat and wide, like an offering plate beneath his twitching tip. Her mouth opened as wide as she could in eager anticipation. With her hand still wrapped tightly around his shaft, she began pumping him furiously, her fist sliding up and down his slick length with frantic speed. The wet, rhythmic *schlick-schlick-schlick* of her frantic stroking echoed off the steamed tiles, loud in the small room.

The first eruption was volcanic. Danny threw his head back with a guttural groan that ripped from his chest. A thick, creamy rope blasted out, hitting Lauren’s outstretched tongue dead center with a heavy splat. The heat, the texture – it overwhelmed her senses.

Her eyes fluttered shut instinctively for a second as the salty tang flooded her mouth. Then they snapped open, blazing with primal triumph. She kept pumping him ruthlessly with both hands, squeezing the thick shaft, milking him relentlessly. “YES!” she moaned, flecks of cum spraying her lips. “*More!*”

The next jet was thicker, hotter, arcing higher. It splattered across her cheekbone, just below her eye. She gasped, turning her face instinctively towards the source, opening her mouth wider still as the next pulse painted her forehead. Another thick rope coated her chin and jawline.

“Oh god, Danny!” she moaned, her voice thick with ecstasy and submission. Her tongue darted out frantically, trying to catch the streams erupting onto her face, licking furiously at her lips to capture every drop that landed near her mouth.

She angled her head slightly, presenting her flushed cheek, her brow, her chin – worshipping every spurt, every pulse, every shudder that wracked his young body. “Give Mommy *all* of it!” she begged, her voice trembling with awe as ropes splashed onto her eyelid, her nose, her hairline. She was being baptized in his essence.

The torrent seemed endless. Rope after thick rope lashed her face, coating her skin in a sticky, pearly sheen. Danny shuddered violently, his hips jerking uncontrollably forward with each powerful spasm. Lauren kept stroking him firmly through every pulse, coaxing out every last drop. Her own climax had primed her; seeing him explode onto her face pushed her into a dizzying second peak. She whimpered, her thighs clamping together tightly, her core clenching violently as she knelt there, utterly claimed.

The sheer volume was staggering; warm rivulets began running down her neck, soaking into the collar of her damp blouse. She tilted her head back, offering her throat as a final jet landed thickly on her chin, dripping slowly onto her chest. The frantic pumping slowed, gentled.

Danny gasped, trembling, his knees threatening to buckle, his hands still tangled helplessly in her hair. Lauren gazed up at him through sticky eyelashes, her face a glistening canvas of his release. Her tongue snaked out slowly, deliberately, gathering the thick pool collected on her chin. She sucked it into her mouth, closing her eyes briefly as she savored the rich, musky taste. “Mmm,” she hummed deeply, a sound of pure satisfaction vibrating against his softening shaft still resting against her lips. “Every drop,” she whispered, opening her eyes, gazing at him with undisguised adoration. “My perfect boy.” Her thumb gently brushed the sensitive head, coaxing out a final, twitching dribble onto her waiting tongue. She swallowed slowly, deliberately.

Silence descended, thick and humid, broken only by their ragged breathing. Danny stared down, dazed, taking in the obscene masterpiece splattered across his mother’s beautiful face. Cum clung to her eyelashes, plastered strands of blonde hair to her temples, pooled in the hollow of her throat. Her lips were swollen, glistening. She looked utterly debauched, utterly his.

A tremor ran through him – part awe, part lingering fear, part fierce, possessive pride. Lauren saw it flicker in his eyes. Gently, she released his softening cock. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned forward and pressed her cum-smeared cheek against his wet thigh. The contact was electric. She rubbed her face softly against his skin, smearing his release further. “Feel me?” she murmured, her voice muffled against his flesh. “Feel how much Mommy loves your taste? How much she loves *this*?”

She turned her head slightly, kissing his thigh softly, her sticky lips leaving a faint mark. Danny shuddered again, overwhelmed. He could only nod mutely, his fingers loosening slightly in her hair, stroking it softly now. She sighed, a deep, contented sound. She stayed there for a long moment, nuzzling his thigh, breathing him in, basking in the damp heat radiating from him and the cooling stickiness coating her own skin. The distant drone of ESPN downstairs felt like a world away.

Finally, she pulled back slightly, gazing up at him. Her eyes, still bright with arousal and devotion, held a new layer of fierce determination. Her cum-smeared face broke into a soft, conspiratorial smile. “We need to clean up,” she whispered, her voice husky. She reached up, her sticky fingers gently tracing his hipbone. “Before your father wonders.” She tilted her head towards the shower still dripping faintly.

“Quickly.” She started to rise, her soaked jeans clinging uncomfortably. But she paused, kneeling fully upright again. Her eyes locked onto his cock, now softening against his thigh, still glistening with her saliva and his own release. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned forward once more. Her tongue darted out, swift and thorough, licking a long, slow stripe from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, cleaning him meticulously.

She sucked the head gently into her mouth for a fleeting second, swirling her tongue, before releasing him with a soft pop. A final bead of cum disappeared. She sat back on her heels, licking her lips clean with deliberate relish. “There,” she breathed, satisfaction warming her voice. “My good boy.”

Her own face remained a glistening mess. Lauren didn’t seem to mind. Her gaze dropped, scanning the damp tile floor beneath them. Her expression sharpened, hunter-like. A thick droplet of pearly white clung precariously to his inner thigh, threatening to fall. Another shimmered near his ankle. “Not wasting a drop,” she murmured fiercely.

Her fingers, slick and trembling slightly, weren’t gentle now; they were efficient, almost greedy. She scooped the bead from his thigh, her fingertip pressing firmly against his skin to gather it entirely. She lifted her finger, coated thickly, and sucked it into her mouth with a deep, hollow sound, her cheeks collapsing inward. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly in sheer pleasure. Immediately, she bent low again, her tongue darting out to lap directly at the spot near his ankle, scraping the tile clean.

She found stray flecks on his calf, on the side of his knee. Each discovery was met with the same swift, hungry action: fingers gathering, mouth sucking clean, her tongue flicking out to capture every microscopic trace. The scent of sex and steam filled her nostrils. A low hum vibrated in her throat as she worked, utterly focused on her task.

Finally, she sat back fully, wiping her sticky fingers across her own damp blouse with a soft sigh. She grinned up at him, a radiant, triumphant expression that transformed her cum-smeared face. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief and profound satisfaction. “All clean,” she declared, her voice thick with laughter and something darker, richer.

She ran her tongue slowly, deliberately, over her sticky lips. “Well… kinda.” Her grin widened, wicked and knowing. “And kinda dirty, too.” The contradiction hung deliciously in the humid air. She pushed herself up slowly, her wet jeans heavy and clinging awkwardly. She stood before him in the cramped shower stall, droplets of water and traces of his release still clinging to her flushed skin and damp clothes. Her eyes, intense and unwavering, locked onto his.

The playful grin softened into something serious, almost pleading. “No more,” she breathed, stepping closer until her soaked blouse brushed his wet chest. Her hand lifted, fingers trembling slightly as she traced his jawline. “No more masturbating alone in your room, Danny.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, charged with promise and desperate need. “If you need it… if you feel that ache… you tell *me*. Please?” Her thumb brushed his lower lip. “Whenever. Wherever. We’ll find a way. A closet. The car. The mall bathroom… anywhere.”

Her gaze burned into his, pleading and possessive. “Promise me, baby. Promise Mommy you’ll give it *all* to me?” Her hand slid down his chest, coming to rest possessively over his softening groin, a silent claim. “Every single drop.”

“Okay,” Danny breathed, shutting off the water. The sudden silence felt loud. Lauren grabbed a thick towel, wrapping it snugly around him. Her hands lingered, rubbing warmth into his shoulders through the terrycloth. Her eyes darted towards the closed bathroom door, listening intently. The drone of the TV downstairs was unchanged. A slow, conspiratorial smile curved her lips. “Go get dressed,” she murmured, leaning close. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, her warm breath tickling his ear.

Lauren pulled back abruptly, her playful mood shifting. She straightened her damp blouse, smoothed her hair. “Get ready for bed, Danny,” she instructed, her voice regaining a motherly firmness, though her swollen lips and overly bright eyes betrayed the intensity of moments before. She opened the bathroom door a crack, peering into the dim hallway. “Get some sleep.” She slipped out silently, closing the door softly behind her without looking back. Danny heard her footsteps pad down the stairs.

Reaching the living room, Lauren paused. Tom sprawled in his worn recliner, bathed in the flickering blue glow of the huge TV screen. SportsCenter highlights flashed silently across his slack face. An empty beer bottle rested precariously on his thigh. She approached him quietly.

“Tom?” she whispered. No response. His breathing was deep and rhythmic. She nudged his shoulder gently. “Honey? Come to bed.” He stirred slightly, mumbled incoherently about a foul ball, and sank deeper into the cushions. Lauren sighed, a sound heavy with years of disappointment. He hadn’t moved towards her like this in months, hadn’t *seen* her. The scent of stale beer mingled with the lingering echoes of Danny’s musk still clinging unseen to her skin. Her eyes lingered on her husband’s oblivious form for a moment longer.

He had chosen ESPN. He had chosen indifference. And now, staring at his sleeping face, illuminated by the flickering screen he loved so much, Lauren knew her own choice was irrevocable. A fierce, possessive warmth bloomed low in her belly, chasing away the chill of rejection. She turned away from the recliner and walked upstairs, her steps light and purposeful.

To be continued

Tags: a Mother, Neglected, part 1