I was a single mom, stuck in our plain house, washing dishes, folding clothes, always busy. I wanted sex, love, anything to feel alive, but I had nothing. My son was home from college, his eyes horny, staring at my tight shirts and shorts. His looks made my pussy wet, and I didn’t stop him. I needed to be wanted, my dirty need strong, but I didn’t know he’d hurt me so bad, or bring his friends.
It started slow. I cleaned the living room, and he watched my tits, shirt tight. I bent over, pussy hot, liking his eyes, but felt wrong, my need shameful. One day, he grabbed my ass while I vacuumed, hand rough, cock hard in his pants. I hit his arm, “Stop it!” but he laughed, and my pussy stayed wet, hating myself. At dinner, he stared at my boobs, and I leaned in, top low, feeling good, but then he reached under the table, squeezed my thigh, fingers near my pussy. I slapped his hand, “Don’t!” but he smirked, and I burned, scared but needy.
His friends came over once, stared at my tits while I gave them snacks, eyes mean. My pussy got wet, but I felt scared. He whispered, “They want you,” and I shook my head, “No way.” Later, in the kitchen, he pushed me against the counter, hand on my tit, squeezing hard, cock pressing my hip. I hit his chest, “Get off!” but he said, “Jerk me off, now.” I pushed him, “No!” but he grabbed my hand, forced it on his cock, big, hard, making me stroke it, precum sticky. I yanked my hand away, hit his face, crying, “Stop!” but my pussy throbbed, wanting it, shaming me.
Another time, I napped on the couch, shirt up, tits out, shorts wet from my pussy. He touched me, fingers in my pussy, wet, deep. I woke, hit his arm hard, “Leave me alone!” but he pinned my wrists, said, “Jerk my cock.” I kicked, screamed, “No!” but he forced my hand again, making me rub his cock, thick, pulsing, until I pulled free, slapping him, my body hot, scared, needy.
One night, I was folding laundry in the living room, tank top loose, nipples hard, pussy wet from thinking dirty. I wanted his eyes but hated myself, my need wrong. The door opened, and my son came in with his two friends, eyes cold, cocks hard in their jeans. I stood, said, “Go away,” voice shaking, pussy wet, fear big. “You want it,” he said, smirking. I cried, “You’re my son, don’t do this!” but they grabbed me.
My son pinned my arms, cock hard against my ass. “You’re mine,” he said. I screamed, “No, please!” and hit his arms, but his friends ripped my tank top, tits out, nipples stiff. They yanked my shorts, pussy bare, dripping, shame burning. They tied my wrists with laundry ropes to the couch, tight, cutting my skin. A cushion went under my hips, lifting my pussy and ass. I begged, “I’ll do anything, just stop!” but they laughed, pushing me down.
My son said, “Spread her,” and they pulled my legs wide. “Fuck her pussy,” he told one, but he went first, cock big, shoving in my pussy, hard, stretching, pain and wet mixing, squelching loud, juices sticky on my thighs. I screamed, “Don’t, my son, please!” hitting his chest, but he fucked fast, cock slamming deep, my pussy cumming, hating it, crying, “Fuck, no!” One friend sucked my tits, biting nipples, hurting, saying, “Slut, you love it,” while I slapped at him, weak, sobbing.
The other friend grabbed my face, forced his cock in my mouth, wet, choking me, fucking my throat, precum bitter. I gagged, tears falling, begged, “Stop, I can’t!” hitting his legs, but he held my head, cock deep. My son moved behind, fingers forcing in my ass, pain sharp, stretching. “Take it,” he said, lubing his cock, pushing in my ass, burning, tearing, my pussy leaking, cum sticky. I sobbed, “No, please, not there!” hitting the couch, but came again, juices gushing, shame killing me, screams muffled.
The first friend fucked my pussy, cock pounding, cum shooting, hot, filling, dripping out, while I pushed at him, crying. The second pulled from my mouth, cum spraying my face, sticky, in my eyes, lips, stinging, as I slapped his thigh, weak. My son fucked my ass harder, “You’re ours,” cum flooding, warm, spilling down my thighs, my body shaking, broken. They switched, one friend in my ass, cock bigger, tearing, slapping my ass, pain worse, saying, “Take it.” I hit the couch, “No more!” The other fucked my pussy, cock deep, my tits bouncing, another climax hitting, juices wet, my voice gone, “Please, stop.” My son forced his cock in my mouth, wet from my ass, saying, “Jerk it first.” I hit his hip, crying, but he made my hand stroke his cock, then fucked my mouth, cum shooting, hot, spilling down my chin, gagging me.
They left me on the couch, cum leaking from my pussy, ass, face, body sore, smelling of sex and shame. I lay there, touching my pussy, still wet, crying, hating my need, my body wanting more, my heart ruined, my craving a wound that’d never heal.
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