Larry's Mom

The doorbell chimed through Mother's house at exactly 2:17 PM—I'd timed it perfectly, knowing she'd be between her afternoon shows and before she started dinner preparations. I adjusted my expression into one of mild distress as I heard her slippered feet approaching the door.

"Larry? What are you doing here?" Mother asked, her face registering surprise as she opened the door. She was wearing one of those flowery housedresses she favored, hair neatly styled despite being home alone. Always keeping up appearances, my mother.

"Pipes burst at my place," I lied smoothly, the story I'd crafted on the drive over rolling off my tongue with practiced ease. "Whole apartment's flooded. Need a place to crash for a few hours while the maintenance guys sort it out."

Her face softened immediately, maternal instinct overriding any plans she might have had. "Oh, honey, of course. Come in, come in."

I stepped inside, breathing in the familiar scent of lemon furniture polish and the lingering aroma of whatever she'd baked earlier. The house was immaculate as always. Mother's pride and joy, her sanctuary. Not for long.

"Can I get you some coffee? I just made a fresh pot," she offered, already moving toward the kitchen, playing the perfect hostess.

"That would be nice," I said, following her, watching the unsuspecting sway of her hips as she walked ahead of me. I closed the kitchen door behind us with a soft click. My cock lengthened, already anticipating her helplessness.

She turned at the sound, a question forming on her lips that died when she saw my expression change. The mask of the dutiful son slipped away, replaced by something darker. I found the place I locked away my lifetime of anger and unlocked. Let her see it in my face.

"Larry?" Her voice held a tremor now. The instincts of prey staring down its death at the jaws of a lion.

"On your knees," I said, my voice dropping low and cold. “Now.”

"What? I don't—"

"I said, on your knees, Mother." I moved closer, towering over her. "I’m counting to three, then I’m going to punch you in the fucking nose if you aren’t on your knees. One!”

Her eyes darted toward the kitchen door, a performance we both knew well. There would be no escape, no rescue. There never was.

"Please, Larry, I don't understand what's gotten into you," she protested weakly. She saw my trembling fist at my side and folded her legs. “Okay, son. I’m on my knees. Will you explain why?”

“A slut like you only does two things on her knees,” I said, unzipping my jeans. “Beg for cock or suck cock. I don’t want to hear you beg. Yet.”

Horror filled her face as I grabbed a handful of hair. Pulled her face towards my cock. Mom twisted her face, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Larry, no. Please, no.”

“Suck it or else,” I snarled. “Give me a reason to hit you. Go ahead. You’re still going to suck my dick when I’m done beating you.”

She couldn’t do it. Grinning, I slapped her so hard she slumped sideways. Before she could do more than cry out in pain, I grabbed her and put her back in position.

“Are you going to suck it now, or do I need to rough you up first?”

Shock refused to let her comprehend the danger she was in. Blinking stupidly, she did nothing. And that was answer enough.

“Okay, we’ll do it rough.” I grabbed her hair again and rested my palm against her cheek. “Ready for me to slap the shit out of you, Mom?” My hand smacked against her face rapidly. “Answer me, Mom. Suck dick or get hit?”

“Larry! Please!” Her bottom lip quivered, but her eyes hardened with resignation. A sob of horror shook her tits. “You don’t have to hit me, son,” she said softly. Then, without another word, she opened her mouth. I smiled at the surrender.

"That's better," I said, guiding my cock between her lips. "Not so difficult, is it?"

I watched as she took me in, her face a mask of shame. The power I felt in that moment was intoxicating. My own mother, on her knees before me, servicing me like the slut I always knew she was.

“Nice and slow,” I told her. “I want to watch your face while you figure out how to use your mouth to make me come.”

Her inexperience was obvious, and I savored it. The tentative way her lips stretched around my girth, the reluctant bobbing of her head. It all fed my growing arousal.

"Look at me," I commanded, yanking her hair until her watery eyes met mine. "I want to see the shame in your eyes while you suck your son's cock."

She moaned in protest around my shaft, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure up my spine. I thrust deeper, watching her gag reflex kick in as she struggled to accommodate me. Let her jerk back, coughing and sputtering.

"What ...