Just a Cumrag

A quick response to the many comments and emails I received for the first chapter in this series:

First of all

: to everyone – whether you liked the story or not – who offered their opinion/criticism in a civilized manner: thank you! Your feedback is greatly appreciated and I will try to take all of your suggestions into consideration. You are the main reason I write these stories.

Secondly, to those who were

sickened/disgusted/offended

by my writing style: there are a lot of talented authors on Literotica: surely, you can find one more to your liking. If you insist on reading my stories and sending me feedback, please do so without the profanity.

Finally, to the guy on a crusade against ellipses:

I... WILL... TRY... TO... CUT... DOWN!

This story contains incestual – consensual – submission and humiliation. If any of this bothers you in any way, please stop reading now. Otherwise have fun!

Hubby also didn't say anything – about the pussy smell – during breakfast the next morning, so I just waited for him to leave for work and for Malcolm to return from his daily jogging routine. I figured that after yesterday he'd have very little inhibitions about using me as his cumrag and I was really looking forward to more of his abuse.

He came in through the garage, about ten minutes after his father left. He stayed in the garage for several minutes; just when I was getting worried and wanted to go check on him, he walked into the hallway and then into the kitchen. He was naked from the waist down, having taken off his trousers and boxers in the garage; his cock however was flaccid. As he walked up to me and put his hand down my sleeping gown, cupping my right tit with his cum-filled hand palm, I realized why.

"Morning." he said as he smeared his cum all over my tit, then moved his hand out of my gown and wiped whatever gooey sperm was left in his hand on the front of it. When his hand was as clean as it was going to get, he took his flaccid cock and tapped it against my neck, squeezing out the last of his morning cum. "I'll be in the shower." he said as he turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading up the stairs.

I couldn't believe what had just happened; it was everything I had hoped for, and more: he was actually using me as a cumrag; no emotions, no small talk, just an object to wipe his cum off on!

I left his cum exactly where it was and just went about my day, figuring it wouldn't be long before he had use for me again; however, after taking another shower, he retreated to his room and I didn't see him the rest of the morning. When I called him down for lunch, I was surprised and delighted to see his hard cock hanging out of his pants; unfortunately he did nothing about it and just sat down. He continued to jerk it all through lunch – all the while keeping a normal conversation going; from the few looks I got at it, I'd say he had been jerking it for quite a while; it was even bigger and darker than usual, from all the blood pumping through it. Although every cell in my body ached, I figured he knew what he was doing: hopefully he was saving himself – and – for something special.

As it turned out, I was right: an hour and a half later, he called out to me. I was sitting on the couch, about to start watching my soaps, when he yelled:"Mom, can you come out into the hallway for a minute?"

When I did and looked up, I saw him standing there on the first floor balcony, butt naked, his fat cock shoved through the banister; his big mushroom head looked almost purple , no doubt from the incessant pounding it had been receiving over the last four to five hours.

"Yes?" I asked, pretending as if nothing was wrong with this picture. He moved about a foot to the right, sticking his cock between two other balusters and started jerking it at a remarkably gentle pace; his giant cock was now directly above me and I had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen.

"Hang on." he said as he started breathing a little heavier.

"Just a few more seconds." he added, shafting his throbbing cock serenely.

"There you go." he said, keeping his cock steady as not to ruin his aim. A big rope of cum shot out and fell down a little over two meters, splattering against my face. In a remarkable display of self-control, Malcolm used his fist to clench his shaft shut and not let out more than a few drops at a time after his first salvo, creating an endless cum shower that rained down on my hair, face and clothes for more than twenty seconds. Finally he let out a deep roar of relief and released his grip on the base of his cock, causing another small glob of cum to fall down and hit me right in the eye.

Before I realized that that was the last of his cum, he had already turned and was heading back to his room; as he slammed the door shut, I felt utterly used and humiliated! I sank to my knees, lifted my skirt and – deliriously horny – tore my cotton panties to shreds, stuffing three fingers up my soaking twat right there in the hallway. As Malcolm's cum was drying on my face and clothes, I fingered myself to a quick, nasty and surprisingly unfulfilling orgasm.

Afterwards, I took a quick shower and put my soiled clothes in the laundry bin, then went back downstairs and continued watching tv. I know: I am a lazy cunt; I don't do much around the house – aside from being a whore for my son – except watch tv and read magazines. About two hours later, Malcolm came into the living room, naked, his flaccid cock dangling between his legs; he showed me his right hand, shaped like a cup, filled with freshly squeezed nut juice. As he stepped closer and moved his hand in the direction of my face, he asked:"May I?"

"Off course." was all I said, trying not give away how anxious I was. Malcolm gently placed his hand against my cheek and smeared his juice all over my face in a circular motion, rubbing and massaging his cum into my skin. By the time he removed his hand, there was cum in both my nostrils, both eyes, every hair of both my eyebrows and pretty much every pore of my face. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I looked up at him; after admiring my face for several seconds, he wrapped his hand around his dong and started tugging it gently, staring at my cum saturated face. Apparently he wasn't done yet...

He stroked and pumped his dick for almost ten minutes, all the while just staring down at me, as I just sat there, his cum burning in my eyes and drying on my skin. Then came the ultimate humiliation as he placed the fat tip of his cock against my chin and just waited; not a second later his cock started convulsing, shooting a fat, thick but short rope of cum across my face and into my left eye. He then flexed his cock, guiding it into a different angle and shot a second, similar rope across the right side of my face. After flexing his cock a second time, his head was on my lips and a third and fourth rope splattered against my nose, seeping back down onto my lips and chin. He grabbed his cock and used it to spread and smear his cum all over my face.

Once he was done degrading me to my very bone, he turned and walked away, as I had come to expect from him. Aside from perfecting his humiliation skills, this little thing we had going on was evolving in another way: with all of his cum on my face, I had barely paid attention to it, but this had been the first time his cock had touched my skin!

Later that night after dinner, Malcolm sneaked off to the bathroom while I cleaned up the kitchen and Jason was watching tv; shortly afterwards he walked back into the kitchen; again with his hand palm filled to the brim with cum. Yes, there was definitely a theme to this day, I thought to myself as he walked up to me, not saying a word. He reached under my skirt with his clean hand, yanked my panties down to my knees and then stuck his cum-filled hand under my skirt, pressing it firmly against my bush, spreading his warm, fresh load all over it. I just stood there, my hands behind me on the counter, just letting him use my cunt as a tissue. It was a big load so he coated not only my bush, but also my inner thighs and even pushed some of it up between my ass cheeks. Finally, he redrew his hand from between my legs and rubbed his still moist hand all over the side of my face, driving me absolutely crazy with lust as I could not only smell his cum, but my own cunt as well. As soon as his hand stopped soiling my face, I squatted down and jammed two fingers up my wet hole, fingering myself furiously. Malcolm stepped up to the sink, washed his hands and dried them off, all the while simply looking down at me.

I expected him to leave as soon as he possibly could, as he'd done so many times before, but instead he just kept watching me. I felt extremely nasty, but I simply couldn't help myself.

After a few minutes of staring at me, he suddenly stepped closer and hung his cock in front of my face, inches away from my mouth. My body, and especially my mouth cried out to him; the proximity of his spent cock, radiating pheromones, was wreaking havoc on my hormones; I wanted to devour him and suck his balls out through his shaft. I opened my mouth and leaned forward, only to see him back away. I scooted a little closer on my knees and leaned in again. Again he backed away and we did this dance over and over again; I kept following him around like a drooling puppy until he had had his fun and simply left. With some difficulty, I got up and rearranged my clothes. Then, faking another migraine, I spent another evening alone in the master bedroom, wearing out the batteries on my biggest dildo, filling the room once again with my scent. Once again, Jason said nothing when he eventually came up to sleep.

The next morning Jason was clearly in the mood; he pushed his morning erection against me and tried to squeeze my boobs. Pretending I needed to pee, I excused myself and instead of returning to the bedroom, I went downstairs and started breakfast. After sending my husband off to work with a massive bulge in his pants, I waited for Malcolm with a watering cunt. I was anxious to find out what he had in mind for me today, which boundaries he was going to push back and eventually obliterate today.

When he came in, all sweaty and just a little out of breath, he took off his jogging pants and hopped onto the breakfast table right in front of me; as he was going commando, his massive morning boner was lewdly bouncing up and down in front of me.

"Wank it." he said as he drank from my OJ.

Faking a little hesitation, I waited a few seconds before wrapping my hand around his stiff cock for the first time. As soon as I gently squeezed his fat tube, he moaned:"Oh yeah you fucking cunt!"

Ignoring his lustful insult and keeping my eyes on his crotch, I lovingly stroked his large shaft until he started spurting, all over my hand, arm and nightgown. After accepting his gooey morning load with a smile, I walked over to the sink to wash his cum off my hand and arm.

By the time I got back to the breakfast table, he had already sat down, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary and we had breakfast together. Although Malcolm had explicitly assured his father over the past few days that he was going to go out and actively search for a job, he simply went up to his room after breakfast to play videogames. I, for my part, had promised my husband to keep an eye on Malcolm to make sure he didn't hang around the house all day... it was a promise I was going to break. As a matter of fact, I did nothing but encourage Malcolm to stay in his room. I brought him snacks and beverages on regular intervals, and left him to his videogame for the rest of the time. I figured he would call me or come and find me if he had any use for me!

He was so wrapped up in the game that he didn't even break for lunch; instead I brought up a sandwich and a can of coke so he could continue his game. When I entered his room, he was right in the middle of a fierce battle, so I put down the food and turned to leave, but he surprised me by bluntly asking:"Mom, could you give me another wank?"

I looked at him as he stood up, manipulating his video controller with both hands.

"Off course." I said, as I kneeled down and pulled his jogging pants down. He sat back down and kept playing as I wrapped my hand around his massively big cock. So, there I was: on my knees in a nearly dark room – no light except for the computer screen – wanking my son's cock just because he asked me to. Although his cock pulsated and reacted normally, the rest of his body, including his face and speech only seemed to react to the game. Furiously waging war with all sorts of nightmarish creatures, he gave me nor the handjob itself any consideration. For nearly ten minutes, I just sat there stroking his cock, without any kind of feedback. Suddenly – his body had shown no warning signs whatsoever – his cock started spewing fat ribbons of cum, which splattered against the floor and the wall under his desk. Malcolm however didn't even flinch and just kept playing, apparently unaffected by the orgasm he was experiencing. After scooping up the last of his cum onto my index finger and getting up, ready to leave the room, he said:"Thanks mom." as she was still battling a seemingly endless supply of hideous enemies.

How casual could a guy dump his load? I asked myself as I smilingly left the room. As I headed back down the stairs, I smelled my hand, savoring the scent of his cock; happy that our perverse relationship had evolved to include actual handjobs and wondering what else he had in mind for me today. I figured the novelty of me jerking him off would soon wear off...

My suspicions were confirmed just a few hours later, when he finally came down to take a break, still in his jogging pants. My lazy ass was on the couch watching tv for a change – yes, we were definitely a bad influence on each other, but neither of us gave a flying fuck!

"Mind if I give your mouth a try?" he asked, largely rhetorically as he dropped his jogging pants and stepped onto the couch, placing one of his legs on either side of me, bending his knees a bit, just enough so that his massive cock was bouncing up and down in front of my face. As I opened up my mouth, he locked his hands behind my head and pulled it towards him, sliding his dick – with some minor trail and error – into my willing suck hole. His cock had barely passed my lips or my cunt was already moist. I had my boy's cock in my mouth, at last! Not one for the gentle or romantic approach – as I had learned by recent events – Malcolm started fucking my mouth rather roughly, gradually stuffing more and more of his fuck stick in, which eventually started to make me gag. After each gag reflex, he let up for a few seconds, only to jam it back a bit further and deeper afterwards; it was outrageous the way he was fucking my mouth: holding my head between his hands and sliding it up and down his fat pole. Most men couldn't even pull this off with their wives; but here I was, taking his incestuous, offensive abuse, eagerly. And this was the first time I had his cock in my mouth!

Feeling his cock throb as my lips polished his shaft, made me so fucking wet that I started playing with my tits and started rubbing my clit through my skirt as I sucked off my boy. He moaned and groaned and seemed to enjoy every second of it. Eventually he moaned and whispered:"Here it comes." as he ejaculated in my mouth for the very first time. He coated my whole mouth and throat with his juicy slime, forcing me to swallow several times. When he had nothing left to give, he released his hold on my head but kept his cock in my mouth. He knew he didn't have to force me to suck his cock: the hold had simply been for his benefit: no matter how accommodating a woman is, every man wants to force himself on her once in a while, just to assert his dominance. I was only too happy to let Malcolm have his way with me!

I sucked the last few drops from his cock, savoring the salty taste. When his cock eventually slipped out, he zipped back up and said:"I'll have more for you to swallow in a few hours!"

I smiled and whispered:"You know where to find me."

During the next two hours and forty minutes of watching mind-numbing soaps and completely ignoring my household duties, I regularly checked the clock wondering when Malcolm was going to make another appearance, but he never did. When his father came home, he walked into the living room and talked to the both of us for about ten minutes. First chance he got, he signaled me – behind Jason's back – and gave me the universal wanking gesture, followed by the equally universal gesture for a blowjob. He excused himself straight away, saying that he had to prepare for some upcoming job interviews – yeah, right. A few minutes after he'd left, I also left the living room and headed up the stairs to his room, where he had already started taking off his clothes. As I walked in, he got on his hands and knees – butt naked – and whispered:"Milk me."

I kneeled beside him and grabbed his big cock, which was pointing straight at the floor; like I was milking a cow, I started jerking him off. Feeling particularly raunchy with everything that had happened today, I got in behind him and quickly peeled off my own clothes. Then I got on my back and positioned my head under his crotch; after jerking his cock at my face for about half a minute, I raised my head and started sucking his fat tip. Our unusual relative positions and the fact that I was jerking and sucking his cock at the same time, sent him over the edge pretty quickly; I eagerly swallowed it all and kept licking and stroking him till he went completely soft. Pleasuring my son, with his father in the house, was a new experience for me; one that had made me soaking wet and that I wouldn't mind repeating over and over, and over again :-)

As Malcolm got up and put on his boxers, I was still casually playing with my wet pussy – not sure what to do about its need for attention – and he took me completely off guard by kneeling next to me, whispering:"Need some help?" and wriggling two fingers into my wet cunt. Overwhelmed by an uncontrollable lust, I hiked up my knees and opened my legs as wide as I could, offering my son unhindered access; which he zealously used to finger the stuffings out of my sloppy cunt. Even if I had wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to object; as soon as he started pumping his fingers in and out of me, I was gone. The only thing I could think of was getting his fingers deeper inside of me; to that end, I grabbed both thighs and pulled my knees against my chest to open myself up to the maximum extent humanly possible. In that wide-open, vulnerable position it only took about ten to fifteen more pumps to get me to climax; I clenched my eyes shut and opened my mouth slightly – making sure not to utter a sound – and just came, and came... and came. His strong, long fingers drilled me from one orgasm to another, pleasuring me like no vibrator had ever been able to!

After what seemed like an eternity – but which was actually fifteen minutes – I finally had to beg Malcolm to stop as I was genuinely afraid of losing my mind: I simply couldn't take anymore! Immediately after pulling his fingers out gently, Malcolm got up and headed for the bathroom, probably to freshen up and wash his fingers. After laying on the ground for a few minutes, composing myself, I heard him going down and followed him another ten minutes later.

Malcolm laid low for the rest of the evening, which made me all the more curious about the next day; which was Friday, our last day alone together before the weekend. Jason was going to be home, so I didn't quite know how we were going to get through it.

The next morning, following the pattern we had established over the past few days, I waited impatiently at the breakfast table. As usual, Jason left for work long before Malcolm returned from his morning run which gave me some time to reflect on recent events. I could honestly say that I didn't regret a single thing, as a matter of fact; it made me soaking wet thinking about what a slut and downright whore I had become for my son. My cunt contracted when I thought about his fingers wiggling around inside of me last night. Now that he had stuck his fingers into me, it was only a matter of time before he'd want to stick something else up there, I figured, and truth be told; I could hardly wait! But as I had reminded Malcolm more than once – and myself constantly – I wasn't the one in the driver's seat; I was just a willing slut, a mindless cunt, a whore for free, with just one purpose: to give into – and encourage – every sexual urge and impulse my son could think of!