Bunker Breeding 2 – Mother & Son

Story Excerpt

Andrea’s eyes were already tearing, streaking down her face each time she gagged on her son, Steven’s, cock. The head of his cock was swollen, slick and shiny, nearly purple at the tip, trembling under her relentless attention. She had been on her knees for the last ten minutes, hunched over on the threadbare carpet of the shelter, with Steven perched on a battered camp cot, clutching the mattress with the desperate strength of a drowning man. The air was sour with the tang of unwashed sheets and the slightly metallic edge of anticipation. At 19 years old, he had never been sucked before. Now one week into their underground retreat, Steven was having the life sucked from his cock on the regular.

Andrea’s mouth worked with mindless determination, lips stretched and glossed by spit, her cheeks hollowing with every drag. She exhaled hot bursts through her nose, nostrils flaring, and the wet schlop-schlop of her hungry rhythm echoed in the low, concrete bunker. Streams of his mother’s saliva ran down the length of Steven’s shaft, pooling at the root, a thick string linking her mouth to his cockhead every time she came up for a shaky, gasping breath. She never made it more than half a second before plunging back down, licking, twisting, letting her tongue roll and curl under the ridge of the crown until he whimpered, bucked, and nearly lifted off the cot.

“Fuck, Mom,” Steven moaned, bracing himself upright, fingers curling through the short, sweat-damp strands at the nape of her neck. His voice was deeper than usual, strained, quivering with an unfamiliar command.

“Cum for Mommy, baby.”

At only 37 years old, Andrea had her fair sure of practice sucking dick. Every month when she started ovulating, Andrea’s mind surrendered to the primal whore inside of her. Her husband rarely left her satisfied. So she’d find others to fill that need. Now, locked in a bunker with her son, she was putting those skills to use.
“I’m close,” Steven panted.

He didn’t have to say anything. His pulsing cock and body twitching gave that away. She smiled around her son’s thick cock, the corners of her mouth splitting in a feral, animal grin, and let him thrust. She didn’t gag, even though he was massive. Instead, she welcomed the frantic bucking, pulling him in, nose mashed against his pubic hair, chin slicked and glistening. Spit dribbled from the corners of her mouth and draped to her collarbone, her large perky breasts were already covered with the mess. Steven’s thighs tensed, knees spread wide, and his toes curled against the cement.

He bucked hard, once, twice, and she felt the telltale swelling, the twitch of muscle and heat. She clamped her lips tight, eyes rolling upward to meet his, just a flash, just enough to see his pupils blown wide, mouth open, as his body prepared to unleash everything for his own mother’s mouth. She made a slurping noise, an intentional, obscene, deliberate taunt as if to remind him that she would drink it all, every drop of his seed. His body tensed. Steven grabbed the back of his mother’s head and then he erupted.