Tending to My Fat Mom

I was wrapped in warmth and softness and love.

I was happy in a way I had never imagined.

Words like bliss and rapture begin to describe the world I was in.

I realized I was waking (coming to?) and tried to stay where I was. This was perfect.

I felt soft kisses covering my face, my cheeks, my eyelids, my forehead, my lips, and felt her, soft and warm, her body covering mine.

"I love you," she breathed into my ear, her breath warm and moist and her words soft and full of emotion.

"I love you, mom," I managed as I felt her weight settling onto me again.

She lifted herself a little, allowing me to breathe.

"Do you love this too?" she asked, punctuating her question with a kiss, and relaxing a little more, pressing me into the mattress.

"Yes," I managed.

I got a deep breath and met her eyes.

"Is it wrong, or maybe kinky, that I want to be completely inside of you?" I asked.

"No more than me wanting you there," she said, smiling and relaxing more, her weight limiting me to tiny sips of breath.

"Is it wrong?" she asked, mirroring my question, "that when I'm doing this with you, watching you struggle to breathe, feeling how hard you are against me, that all I want to do is feel your body starting to panic, feel my control be so complete."

"No more than me wanting it," I said.

"Good," she said and lifted herself, moving with that oddly graceful ponderousness of a truly fat woman.

She grunted with each move, as she swung her leg over me and then swapped ends. I watched, fascinated, as she moved, facing my feet now and kneewalking forward, huge and ungainly but oddly graceful. The mass of her belly covered my face and blocked my view so I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation. She grunted loudly as she rocked from side to side so she could capture my arms behind her knees, the backs of her thighs, and her calves locking me into a soft vice from which there was no hope for escape.

Her labia were huge fat-filled bags of flesh and when she reached down and parted them all I could see was a big, dark, damp cavern and I welcomed it as she slowly lowered herself onto me. Her labia, big and soft and wet covered my face and I was immersed in her as she settled, pressing me into the pillow and mattress with a long sigh of pure satisfaction.

I felt her hand on my erection, stroking me gently as I managed little sips of air, my tongue probing, seeking, finding the hard button of her clitoris deep in that dark wet hollow of her sex. When I pressed with my tongue I felt sudden tension and she settled, even more, my face covered with her labia, no air available.

And I was loving it.

Her hips rocked a little and I felt her start to flow. Her thick, hot, salty nectary started to run into my mouth and I couldn't swallow fast enough to keep up.

My face was buried in her and my ears were covered by the soft fat of her ass. It was more bone conduction than hearing as I heard her deep grunt when she came, my mouth overflowing now, my nose and sinuses filling with the hot, thick honey. I had no air and if I could have had my eyes open I'm sure I would have seen my vision going dark at the edges. Her hand was masturbating me and she knew what she was doing. She was holding me on the edge.

When my body started writhing in panic, there was nothing I could do to stop that, my body porpoising but unable to escape, she lifted herself allowing me a breath which I took, gasping as if I was breaking the surface after almost drowning, before her weight cut off my air again.

She held me there, on the edge of ejaculation but also on the edge of body panic, as she came in waves, her hot, thick nectar filling my mouth and nose and my stomach too as I drank her release greedily.

She bent forward then, her pussy covering my face but now her belly covering me from the chest down, and took me into her mouth. I felt her, just holding me in her mouth, her lips tight on the base of my shaft, her body sort of jerking in interesting ways as she fought to keep her gag reflex under control. As she held me on the edge she kept cumming in waves.

She didn't give me air the last time, and as I lost consciousness I felt her swallow hard, accepting me into her throat as I started cumming and I thrust my hips, wanting all of me in her as my body pumped.

And pumped.

And pumped.

As I lost consciousness my last thought was that I could actually feel my prostate contracting deep in my belly.

When I woke she had moved around again. She was straddling me, smiling down at me as my eyes fluttered open.

And I knew I was going to throw up. I have no idea how much of her nectar I swallowed, but my body was rebelling.

"Mom, let me up," I said trying to roll away.

I felt her start to move but it was too late. I turned my head and threw up.

It was hot and slick and almost clear, most of what was in my stomach was her nectar, that ambrosia I couldn't get enough of.

Since it was too late, she quit trying to get off of me but just held still.

When I was empty, reduced to a few dry heaves, she brushed the hair away from my forehead, smiled, kissed me, a slick, snotty kiss, and started settling back down, her body engulfing mine again.

"Good sex," she said, letting more and more of her weight press down on me, "is often messy," and she kissed me again, "but never dirty."

I managed "I love you" as she took my breath away again with her weight.