I woke up and still tired, but I had to get my lazy ass up. I grabbed my robe and put it on as I went to the bathroom for my morning shower.
The house was quiet, too quiet. It had been that way since Carl and Mark left for the army. No loud music. No bickering over who got the last slice of pizza. Just silence.
I turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the small space as I slid my robe off, the cool air kissing my bare skin. Stepping under the water, I let it cascade down my shoulders, washing away the stiffness of sleep. My fingers ran through my damp hair as I lathered up, inhaling the lavender scent of my body wash. It was a small luxury, but it was one of the few things that still made me feel like… me.
After rinsing off, I stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my body. The mirror was fogged up, and for a second, I was grateful. I didn’t feel like looking at my own tired eyes today.
I dried off slowly, dragging the towel down my legs, across my arms, taking my time. No rush. No one waiting on me. I padded into my bedroom, tossing the towel onto the bed as I reached for my underwear drawer.
Fresh lingerie always felt good—black lace, a little delicate, a little worn, but still made me feel something other than just a tired mom. I clasped my bra, adjusting the straps before slipping into a matching pair of panties.
Then came my favorite blouse—white, soft cotton, with two buttons missing near the top. I never bothered to fix them. I liked the way it fit just a little loose, hanging open just enough to make me feel… well, feminine. I pulled on my jeans next, wiggling them over my hips and fastening the button.
The day passed in a blur of laundry, dishes, and scrolling through old photos on my phone. I stopped at one—a picture of Carl and Mark in their army gear, standing side by side, grinning. My boys. My heart ached in my chest as I traced their faces on the screen with my fingertip.
Evening rolled in, and I couldn’t be bothered to cook, so I ordered a pizza. It arrived hot and greasy, the cheese stretching as I pulled a slice apart. I ate on the couch, feet tucked under me, staring at the TV without really watching.
Then came the whiskey.
I changed again, this time into my nightie—thin, silky, barely reaching mid-thigh. A little indulgent, maybe, but I liked how it felt against my skin and showed my cleavage. I poured another glass, the amber liquid swirling as I tilted the bottle.
The warmth spread through me, easing some of the loneliness, but not enough. I leaned back on the couch, one leg draped over the armrest revealing my panties, staring at the ceiling.
Then—a knock at the door.
I sat up too fast, the room spinning slightly. Who the hell—? It was late. I wasn’t expecting anyone. My heart pounded as I set my glass down, smoothing my nightie over my thighs as I stood.
Another knock. Firmer this time.
I hesitated, then unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Hey, Ma.”
Oh. My. God.
Carl. Mark. My boys.
I clapped a hand over my mouth, my eyes instantly welling up. They stood there in their uniforms, tired but grinning, alive and home.
“Surprise,” Carl smirked, arms open just in time for me to launch myself at them.
I didn’t care that I was in my nightie, or that I was a little drunk, or that I probably looked a mess. My babies were home, and that was all that mattered.
“Come in, oh my god,” I stumbled back, barely able to breathe as I pulled them inside. My hands were on their faces, their arms, their uniforms—just trying to convince myself they were real, that they weren’t some whiskey-induced hallucination.
“Carl… Mark… Oh my god, you’re really here.” My voice cracked as I cupped Mark’s face, my fingertips trembling against his rough jawline. “You’re home.”
“We’re home, Ma.” Mark’s voice was soft, but his eyes were warm, full of something deep and unspoken.
Carl grinned, looking me up and down. “Uh… didn’t expect such a warm welcome.” His eyes flicked to my nightie, and I suddenly became very aware of how little I was wearing.
I swatted his arm. “Oh, shut up.” But my laugh was watery, thick with emotion. I wiped at my eyes, shaking my head. “I—I thought you weren’t coming back for another month?”
“Got leave. Wanted to surprise you.” Mark shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. It really, really was, the way he looked me up and down was weird.
I grabbed both of them, squeezing them into the tightest hug I could manage, my face pressing against Carl’s broad shoulder. They smelled like outside air, sweat, and something distinct—something I had missed so much I could cry all over again.
I pulled back, sniffing. “You hungry? I still got some pizza left.”
Carl chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “Hell yeah, Ma. You know we never say no to pizza.”
Mark was quieter, his eyes lingering on me a little too long. Maybe it was just the shock of seeing me after all this time. Maybe it was the whiskey making me imagine things. Either way, I shook it off and led them to the couch, grabbing the pizza box from the coffee table.
“Alright, sit your asses down,” I said, flipping the lid open. “It’s not fresh, but it’s still good.”
Carl wasted no time grabbing a slice, biting into it with a groan. “Damn, I missed this.”
Mark, though, just leaned back, watching me. “You okay, Ma? You look…” He trailed off, his gaze flicking down to my nightie for a split second before he met my eyes again.
I swallowed, suddenly self-conscious. The whiskey had made me forget just how little I was wearing. The silky fabric clung to me, the thin straps barely keeping it up. But it wasn’t like I had expected company, least of all my own sons showing up in the middle of the night.
I laughed it off, taking another sip of my drink. “I look like a mom who didn’t expect to be surprised at damn near midnight, that’s how I look.”
Carl grinned. “And a little drunk, too.”
I smirked, swirling the whiskey in my glass. “Maybe a little.”
Mark finally grabbed a slice of pizza, but his eyes never left me. It was strange—almost unsettling. I shifted on the couch, crossing my legs, feeling the cool fabric of my nightie ride up a little higher.
I cleared my throat. “So, tell me everything. How’s life treating you two?”
Carl launched into a story about some training exercise gone wrong, laughing through a mouthful of pizza. Mark stayed quieter, watching, listening.
And me? I just sat there, drinking, trying to shake off the feeling that something in the air had shifted.
“We would have been here sooner but me and Carl had a few beers at the pub. Then we was side tracked by this lass Becky we met and…” Mark was cut off by Carl.
“Dude trust me don’t finish mom doesn’t want to be scared what we ended up doing with her,” Carl chuckled. “Lets keep it PG dude.”
Oh my lord, they did what with the poor girl.
I felt my cheeks flush as Carl’s words hung in the air, and I quickly took another sip of my whiskey to hide my reaction. My boys were grown men now, and I knew they had their own lives, their own experiences. But hearing them talk so casually about their escapades made me feel… strange. A mix of pride, embarrassment, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“Carl,” I said, trying to sound stern but failing as a laugh bubbled up. “You two are something else. Poor Becky. I hope you at least treated her right.”
Mark smirked, leaning back on the couch, his eyes still on me. “Oh, we treated her just fine, Ma. Don’t worry about that.” I shook my head, trying to ignore the way Mark’s gaze lingered. “Well, I don’t need the details. Just… be careful, okay? And respectful. You’re my boys, but you’re also grown men now. Act like it.” Carl rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. The thought of both my boy’s threesome with that girl in the pub send tingles to my lady parts. It as been years since I got any action.
“Yes, Ma. We’ll be good boys, promise.” I laughed, the sound a little too loud, a little too forced. The whiskey was definitely getting to me now, and I could feel the warmth spreading through my body, making everything feel just a little softer, a little hazy. Mark leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes still locked on mine.
Carl stretched out on the couch, kicking his boots off with a groan. “Man, it’s good to be back. Missed this place.” He glanced over at me, his grin wide and easy, the same one he’d had since he was a kid. His dark hair was cropped short under his cap, and his uniform clung to his broad frame, the sleeves rolled up to show off tanned forearms dusted with hair. He’d filled out since I last saw him—muscle where there’d once been boyish softness.
Mark stayed quieter, sitting closer to me, his knee brushing mine as he shifted. His uniform was still crisp despite the long trip, the fabric stretched tight across his chest. His jaw was sharper now, shadowed with stubble, and his hazel eyes had a weight to them I didn’t remember. “Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Missedyou, Ma.” The way he said it made my stomach twist—just a little too soft, too heavy.
I forced a smile, tugging the hem of my nightie down a bit, though it didn’t do much. The silk slid against my thighs, cool and smooth, and I could feel their eyes on me, even if Carl was pretending not to notice. “Well, you’re here now,” I said, my voice a little shaky from the whiskey. “That’s what counts.”
Carl took another bite of pizza, chewing loudly. “So, what’s been keeping you busy, Ma? Besides whiskey and pizza.” He winked, leaning back with his hands behind his head, the motion pulling his shirt up just enough to show a sliver of his stomach—flat, hard, with a faint trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.
I shrugged, swirling my glass. “Not much. Just… keeping the house from falling apart. Missing you two.” My eyes flicked to Mark, who still hadn’t looked away. His fingers tapped against his knee, slow and deliberate, like he was thinking hard about something.
“Looks like you’ve been holding up alright,” Mark said, his gaze dropping briefly to my chest before snapping back up. The nightie was thin—too thin—and I knew the outline of my bra was probably visible, the black lace pressing against the silk. I crossed my arms, trying to play it off.
“Yeah, well, I manage,” I said, standing up to grab the whiskey bottle from the table. My bare feet padded against the hardwood, and I could feel the air shift as I moved, the hem of my nightie riding up just a fraction. “You boys want a drink? Figure you’ve earned it.”
“Hell yeah,” Carl said, sitting up fast. “Pour me a big one.”
Mark nodded, his voice quieter. “Sure, Ma. Thanks.”
I poured three glasses, the amber liquid glugging into the tumblers. My hands were steady enough, but my head was buzzing—not just from the booze, but from the way the room felt smaller now, warmer, with them here. I handed Carl his first, his fingers brushing mine as he took it. “Thanks, Ma. You’re the best.”
Mark reached for his next, and his touch lingered—a little too long, his calloused fingertips grazing my knuckles. “Yeah,” he murmured. “The best.”
I sat back down, closer to Mark this time, our thighs almost touching. The couch creaked under our weight, and I took a long sip, letting the burn settle me. Carl launched into another story—something about a guy in their unit who’d gotten caught sneaking beer into the barracks—but I could barely focus. Mark’s heat was radiating next to me, his arm resting along the back of the couch, just behind my shoulders.
“—and then he tried to hide it under his bunk, like the sergeant wouldn’t notice!” Carl laughed, loud and rough, his whole body shaking with it. His uniform jacket was unzipped now, showing the tight black tee underneath, the fabric clinging to his chest.
Mark chuckled, but it was softer, distracted. His fingers brushed the back of my neck—just a graze, barely there—and I froze, my breath catching. “You cold, Ma?” he asked, voice low, like he hadn’t just sent a jolt through me.
I shook my head, forcing a laugh. “No, I’m good. Just… tired, I guess.” But I wasn’t tired. Not anymore. The air was thick, charged, and I didn’t know if it was the whiskey or something else entirely.
Carl drained his glass, setting it down with a clink. “Well, I’m beat. Long ass day. Mind if we crash here tonight?”
“Course not,” I said quickly. “This is your home. You don’t even have to ask.”
Mark’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Good to know.” His hand stayed where it was, resting behind me, and I didn’t move away. Not yet. Something was building, slow and quiet, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop it—or see where it went.
Carl stretched out on the couch, his big frame sprawling across the cushions as he kicked his legs up. “Man, this beats the hell outta barracks life,” he said, voice thick with exhaustion but still carrying that cocky edge. He tugged at the collar of his uniform, the fabric pulling tight across his chest before he unzipped it fully, letting it hang open. His black tee underneath was damp with sweat, clinging to every ridge of muscle he’d built up over months of training. He ran a hand through his cropped hair, smirking at me. “You’re spoiling us already, Ma. Whiskey, pizza… what’s next?”
Mark stayed quieter, his presence heavier somehow. He shifted closer, the rough fabric of his uniform pants brushing my bare thigh where my nightie had ridden up. His fingers lingered on the back of the couch, tracing lazy circles against the cushion—close enough that I could feel the heat off his hand. “Yeah,” he said, voice low and rough, like he’d been chewing on gravel. “Feels good to be back. Real good.” His hazel eyes flicked to me again, catching the light, and there was something in them—something hungry, something I couldn’t shake.
I swallowed hard, the whiskey buzzing in my veins, making my skin prickle. “Well, you’re home now,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “That’s all I care about.” I leaned forward to grab my glass, and the silky nightie slipped a little, the strap sliding off one shoulder. I caught Mark’s gaze drop to the black lace of my bra peeking out, his jaw tightening for a split second before he looked away.
Carl didn’t notice—or didn’t care. He was too busy draining his glass, the amber liquid disappearing in one long gulp. He let out a satisfied groan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Shit, that’s good. Been too long since I had a real drink.” He set the tumbler down on the coffee table with a loud clunk, then stretched again, his shirt riding up higher this time. The faint line of dark hair trailed down his stomach, disappearing into his waistband, and I had to look away quick before my brain went places it shouldn’t.
“Glad you’re enjoying it,” I said, forcing a laugh as I tugged the strap of my nightie back up. My fingers brushed the silky edge, and I could feel how thin it was—how it barely covered me. The air in the room felt thicker now, warmer, like it was pressing in on all of us.
Mark leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear as he spoke soft, just for me. “You look good, Ma. Real good.” His voice was a low rumble, vibrating through me, and his fingers finally grazed my neck—light, deliberate, sending a shiver straight down my spine. “Missed seeing you like this.”
I froze, my heart thudding hard against my ribs. The whiskey made everything fuzzy, but not fuzzy enough to miss what he’d just said—or how he’d said it. I turned my head, meeting his eyes, and they were dark now, pupils wide, locked on mine like he was daring me to say something.
“Mark…” I started, but my voice came out weaker than I meant it to, caught somewhere between a whisper and a plea. My nightie shifted again as I moved, the hem sliding up my thigh, and I saw his gaze flick down, lingering on the edge of my black lace panties peeking out.
Carl interrupted, oblivious, his loud laugh cutting through the tension. “Yo, Mark, you gonna hog Ma all night or what? Give me some space, man.” He shoved at Mark’s shoulder, playful but firm, and Mark pulled back just enough to break the moment. His hand dropped from the couch, resting on his knee instead, but I could still feel where his fingers had been—like they’d left a mark.
“Alright, alright,” Mark muttered, smirking as he leaned back. But his eyes stayed on me, heavy and unreadable, while Carl rambled on about some guy in their unit who’d gotten chewed out for sneaking smokes.
I took a shaky sip of my whiskey, trying to steady myself. The room was spinning a little—not just from the booze, but from whatever the hell was happening here. Carl’s voice faded into background noise, and all I could focus on was Mark’s heat next to me, the way his thigh pressed against mine, the slow tap of his fingers on his knee like he was waiting for something.
“Gonna grab another slice,” Carl said, heaving himself off the couch with a grunt. His boots hit the floor hard as he shuffled toward the pizza box, leaving me and Mark alone on the couch for a beat too long.
Mark didn’t waste it. He leaned in again, his lips brushing my ear this time, voice barely above a whisper. “You feel it too, don’t you?” His hand slid onto my thigh—just the tips of his fingers, rough and warm against my skin—and I couldn’t breathe.
I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve laughed it off, blamed the whiskey, told him to knock it off. But I didn’t. I just sat there, heart pounding, heat pooling low in my belly, as Carl’s footsteps thudded back toward us.
Carl plopped back onto the couch, a fresh slice of pizza dangling from his hand as he chewed loudly, oblivious to the electric hum still buzzing between me and Mark. His broad frame sank into the cushions, one leg kicked up over the armrest, his uniform jacket now fully off and tossed aside. The black tee stretched tight across his chest, sweat stains darkening the fabric under his arms, and his tanned skin glistened faintly in the dim light. “Fuck, this is heaven,” he mumbled through a mouthful, crumbs tumbling onto his lap. “Army chow’s got nothin’ on this.”
Mark didn’t respond to him. His hand stayed on my thigh, fingers pressing just a little harder now, the roughness of his callouses scraping against my smooth skin. His breath was warm and steady near my ear, and I could smell him—sweat, beer from the pub, and something muskier, primal, that made my head spin worse than the whiskey ever could. “You didn’t answer me,” he whispered, low enough that Carl wouldn’t hear, his lips so close they brushed the shell of my ear. “You feel it too, don’t you, Ma?”
My throat went dry, and I clutched my glass tighter, the cool rim pressing into my palm. Carl’s loud laugh broke through again as he wiped greasy fingers on his pants, leaving faint stains on the dark fabric. “Yo, Mark, you remember that time Sarge caught us sneaking out? Thought we were fucked for sure.” He leaned back, arms sprawled wide, his biceps flexing under the short sleeves of his tee. The faint stubble on his jaw caught the light, and his dark eyes sparkled with the memory, carefree and wild.
Mark’s fingers slid an inch higher on my thigh, slipping just under the hem of my nightie, and I sucked in a sharp breath. The silk felt like nothing now, barely a barrier between his touch and my skin, and the black lace of my panties peeked out more as I shifted, trying to steady myself. “Yeah,” he said absently to Carl, his voice rough, distracted. “We got lucky.” But his eyes were on me, dark and heavy, like he wasn’t talking about the army at all.
I should’ve moved. Should’ve stood up, laughed it off, poured more whiskey—anything to break this. But my body wouldn’t listen. Heat pooled low in my belly, a slow, aching throb that matched the pulse of Mark’s fingers against my leg. Carl kept talking, his voice a distant rumble now, something about a fight in the barracks, but it was just noise. My focus was on Mark—on the way his chest rose and fell under his uniform, the fabric taut across his pecs, the faint outline of his dog tags pressing through. His stubble scratched lightly as he tilted his head closer, and his hazel eyes locked onto mine, daring me to pull away.
“You’re too quiet, Ma,” Carl said suddenly, snapping me out of it. He sat up a little, grabbing his empty glass and shaking it at me with a grin. “Pour me another, yeah? Don’t let Mark hog all the attention.” His tone was playful, but his eyes flicked between us, like he’d caught something in the air but wasn’t sure what.
I forced a smile, my hand trembling slightly as I reached for the bottle. Mark’s fingers stayed where they were, possessive, unmoving, and I had to twist awkwardly to grab it, my nightie riding up higher. The silk clung to my hips, and I knew they could both see the curve of my ass, the thin strap of my panties cutting across my skin. “Here,” I said, pouring Carl a generous shot, my voice shakier than I wanted it to be. “Don’t say I never spoil you.”
Carl took the glass with a wink, his fingers brushing mine—rough, warm, but nowhere near as deliberate as Mark’s touch. “You’re the best, Ma. Always were.” He knocked it back in one gulp, letting out a loud, satisfied “Ahh!” as he slammed the glass down. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, a faint sheen of sweat on his skin, and he stretched again, his shirt lifting to show more of that hard, flat stomach, the trail of hair thicker now, disappearing into his pants.
Mark’s hand tightened on my thigh, his thumb brushing the edge of my panties now, and I nearly dropped the bottle. “Easy,” he murmured, so quiet it was just for me, his lips twitching into a smirk. His uniform pants were tight across his lap, and I could see the outline of him—thick, hard, straining against the fabric. My mouth went dry, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
“Fuck, I’m stuffed,” Carl groaned, leaning back and rubbing his stomach, oblivious again. “Think I might crash soon. You got the spare room ready, Ma?”
“Yeah,” I managed, my voice tight. “It’s all set.” But my eyes were on Mark, on the heat of his hand, the way his chest pressed against his shirt as he shifted closer. His fingers dipped just under the lace now, grazing the sensitive skin where my thigh met my hip, and a soft gasp slipped out before I could stop it.
Carl didn’t notice—or didn’t care. He yawned, loud and dramatic, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright, I’m out. Night, Ma. Night, perv,” he added, shoving Mark’s shoulder as he stood. His boots thudded against the floor as he headed down the hall, leaving the air between me and Mark thick and heavy. “Don’t keep mom up all night, thought you be tired after what we did with Becky.”
The hallway swallowed Carl’s heavy footsteps, leaving the living room steeped in a thick, humming silence. Mark stayed where he was, his broad frame sinking deeper into the couch, his knee still pressed firm against my thigh. The heat of him radiated through his uniform pants, seeping into my skin where the nightie had bunched up, leaving my legs bare and vulnerable. His hand lingered—fingers splayed wide, thumb grazing the edge of my black lace panties, teasing that soft, sensitive spot where my hip curved inward. My breath hitched, a shaky little sound I couldn’t swallow down.
“Guess it’s just us now,” he said, voice low and rough, like he’d been holding it back all night. His hazel eyes locked onto mine, dark and unblinking, pupils blown wide with something raw. He shifted closer, the couch creaking under his weight, and the faint scent of him hit me—sweat, beer, and that musky edge that clung to his skin after a long day. His uniform jacket hung open, the tight black tee underneath clinging to his chest, outlining every hard plane of muscle he’d earned in the army. The dog tags nestled between his pecs glinted faintly as he leaned in, his stubble brushing my cheek.
I gripped the edge of the cushion, my nails digging into the fabric. The whiskey glass sat forgotten on the table, the amber liquid trembling faintly from the vibration of Carl’s exit. Mark’s fingers slid higher, slipping fully under the hem of my nightie now, tracing the lace where it hugged my skin. His touch was slow, deliberate, like he was testing me—waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. My thighs parted just a fraction, an instinct I couldn’t fight, and his lips twitched into a smirk.
“You’re shaking, Ma,” he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. His thumb pressed harder, dipping under the lace, brushing the soft mound above my pussy. A jolt shot through me, sharp and electric, and I bit my lip to stifle the moan clawing up my throat. “Been a while, huh? Since anyone touched you like this?”
His words sank into me, heavy and filthy, stirring that ache deep in my core. My nightie slid higher as he nudged my legs apart, the silk catching on my hips, exposing the damp spot already darkening the lace of my panties. His eyes dropped there, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. “Fuck… look at that. You’re wet already.”
I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper. “Mark… we shouldn’t—” But it didn’t sound convincing, not even to me. My body betrayed me, hips shifting toward his hand, craving more of that rough, warm pressure.
“Shouldn’t what?” he cut in, his tone sharp but playful, like he knew I was full of shit. His fingers hooked the edge of my panties, tugging them to the side, the lace scraping my skin as he bared me to the cool air. My pussy throbbed, slick and swollen, and he let out a ragged breath, staring at it like he was starving. “Goddamn, Ma. Look at that pretty little cunt. Dripping for me.”
His thumb brushed my clit—just a graze, but it sent a shockwave through me, my back arching off the couch. A soft whimper slipped out, and his smirk widened, dark and dangerous. “Yeah, that’s it. Let me hear you.” He slid a finger down my slit, slow and torturous, parting my soaked lips until he found my entrance. My pussy clenched, needy and aching, and he pushed in—deep, thick, stretching me with that rough, calloused digit.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he pumped his finger slow, watching it disappear into my wet heat. “So tight. Shit, you feel so good.” My head tipped back, thighs trembling as he worked me, the wet sound of my arousal filling the room. His other hand yanked the strap of my nightie down, the silk pooling around my waist, and my bra came into view—black lace stretched tight over my tits, nipples hard and poking through.
He didn’t hesitate. His free hand cupped my breast, squeezing hard, thumb flicking the stiff peak through the lace. “These fuckin’ tits,” he muttered, almost to himself, his eyes glued to the way they spilled over his grip. “Been thinkin’ about ‘em all night. So full, so soft…” He pinched my nipple, rolling it between his fingers, and I gasped, the sharp sting melting into a flood of heat that raced straight to my clit.
“Mark—oh god,” I moaned, my voice breaking as he added a second finger, curling them inside me, hitting that spot that made my vision blur. My pussy gripped him, slick and desperate, and he growled low, his cock straining against his uniform pants—rock hard, the thick outline pulsing with every twitch of his hips.
“Fuck, listen to that,” he rasped, pumping faster now, the wet squelch of my pussy echoing in the quiet. “So fuckin’ wet for me. You like this, don’t you? My fingers buried in your hot little hole?” His thumb circled my clit, rough and relentless, and my hips bucked, chasing the pressure, the edge I could feel building fast. He stopped, he pulled is fingers out of me and undid his pants as I laid down on the couch.
His uniform pants were undone now, the zipper gaping open, and I could see the thick bulge of his cock straining against the fabric of his black briefs. He tugged them down slow, letting the waistband catch on his hips for a second before his shaft sprang free—rock hard, veined, and glistening at the tip with a bead of precum. It pulsed in the air, heavy and thick, the swollen head flushed a deep red, begging to be touched.
“Fuck, Ma,” he growled, his voice rough and thick with need as he kicked his pants off fully, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. His thighs were solid, dusted with dark hair, flexing as he moved closer. He knelt on the couch between my legs, his knees sinking into the cushions, spreading my thighs wider. The nightie was bunched up around my waist now, useless, and my black lace panties were still yanked to the side, the damp crotch rubbing against my inner thigh. My pussy was exposed—swollen, dripping, the slick lips parted and glistening in the low light. He stared at it, his breath hitching, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest.
“Look at that fuckin’ cunt,” he muttered, almost to himself, his hands gripping my thighs hard enough to leave marks. His fingers dug into my soft flesh, pulling me closer, and the heat of his palms seared me. “So wet… so ready for me.” His cock bobbed as he shifted, the slick tip brushing my inner thigh, leaving a sticky trail of precum that cooled against my skin. I shivered, my breath catching as he leaned down, his stubble scraping my jaw as his lips found my neck.
“Fuck, look at that,” he groaned, his voice dropping low and filthy. “That wet little cunt’s beggin’ for me. So pink, so fuckin’ juicy…” He licked his lips, slow and deliberate, and my breath hitched as he slid a hand up my thigh, rough palm scraping my tender skin. His thumb brushed my clit again, teasing the throbbing nub, and a jolt shot through me, my hips bucking up toward him. “Yeah, that’s it,” he muttered, smirking. “Can’t hide how bad you want this.”
His other hand gripped his cock, thick and veined, the swollen head pulsing as he gave it a slow stroke. A fresh bead of precum oozed out, dripping down onto my mound, mixing with my own slickness. He lined himself up, dragging the tip through my soaked lips, parting them with a wet, obscene sound that filled the room. The side of my panties caught against his shaft as he teased me, the lace tugging tight, rubbing my skin raw. “Gonna fuck you so good,” he whispered, his voice a low growl against my ear. “Been waitin’ for this… you have no idea.”
I gasped as he pushed in—just the tip at first, stretching my tight entrance with a slow, searing burn. My pussy gripped him, hot and slick, sucking him in deeper as he groaned loud, his head tipping back. “Oh shit, Ma… so fuckin’ tight,” he panted, his hips rocking gently, easing himself in inch by inch. The heat of him filled me, thick and hard, and I could feel every vein, every pulse as he buried himself deeper. My thighs trembled, spread wide, and my nails dug into the couch, clawing at the fabric.
“Mark…” My voice came out shaky, a broken moan as he bottomed out, his cock fully sheathed inside me, pressing against my cervix with a dull, delicious ache. He stilled for a second, letting me feel him—letting me adjust to the stretch, the overwhelming fullness. His hands slid up to my hips, gripping hard, and he leaned down, his lips hovering over mine. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, breath hot and ragged. “Takin’ me like this… fuck, I can feel you squeezing me.”
Then he moved—slow at first, pulling back until just the tip stayed inside, my pussy clinging to him, dripping wet and needy. He kept sucking in air as he stared at my pussy as he kept fucking me.
Mark’s hips rolled forward again, his thick cock sliding back into me with a slow, deliberate thrust that made my breath hitch. The stretch was intense—his girth filling me completely, the swollen head pressing against spots inside me that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through my body. My pussy clenched around him instinctively, slick and tight, as if trying to pull him deeper.
“Fuck,” he groaned low in his throat, his hands tightening on my hips as he pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in hard. The force of it jolted me up the couch slightly, and I gasped at the sudden fullness returning so quickly. His pace picked up now—steady but relentless—each thrust driving deep into my soaked cunt with a wet slap of skin against skin.
“We… we shouldn’t be fucking, ahhh god,” I moaned as he pumped into me harder.
“Shouldn’t be fuckin’, huh?” he growled between gritted teeth, his voice rough and dripping with lust. He slammed into me harder this time; it felt like all air left my lungs at once as pleasure shot through every nerve ending in my body from how deep inside you were hitting now – so much more than before when we first started doing this…
“What’s all the noise about… what the fuck, dude your shagging our mom,” Carl caught us fucking like rabbits. I thought he was going to stop us instead he took out his cock and stood at the side of the couch. He tilted my head while Mark was still plowing through my cunt and Carls dick near my mouth.
Mark’s thick cock pistoned in and out of me, hard and relentless, slamming into my cervix with every deep thrust. My pussy was dripping wet, the obscene squelch of my arousal filling the room along with our harsh breaths and moans. I’d never been so full before—so utterly consumed by pleasure that it bordered on pain.
“Fuck,” Mark groaned loud above me, his broad frame shaking as he pumped into me harder. His hips snapped forward at a brutal pace now; there was no more teasing or gentleness left—just raw animalistic lust driving him to fuck his own mother like an alley cat in heat.
“Oh god,” I moaned around Carl’s throbbing shaft buried deep inside my mouth while being pinned down between both sons ripping her body apart…
“Suck it ma ahhh fuck, yeah like that. Mark let me know when you cum I want a pop at that twat,” the way Carl said it disgusting but surge went through me.
Mark’s thrusts grew faster, more desperate, as he chased his release. His grip on my hips tightened to the point of pain, and I could feel the tension building in him—his cock swelling even thicker inside me with each snap of his hips. “Fuck… gonna cum,” he grunted through clenched teeth.
“Yeah? Cum for mommy,” Carl taunted from above me where my head was tilted back as far as it would go while being pinned down by both sons fucking me senseless.” Fill that tight little cunt up.”
Mark pulled out of me with a wet, obscene sound, his thick cock glistening with my arousal as he stepped back. His chest heaved, sweat dripping down his temples and over the hard planes of his abs. He didn’t say anything—just stood there, watching Carl take his place between my legs like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Pushing inside me and started to really go at my pussy. Mark standing over us stroking his sticky limp cock.
My head lolls back against Carl’s chest as his cock pushes into my wet heat like he owns me body . Mark watches as his brother takes over where he left off slamming deep inside me again after just moments ago letting go inside me .
“Fuck yeah,” Carl grunts into my ear as he pushes deeper still “That’s how you take it.”
Carl’s cock slammed into me, driving deep inside, ignoring my gasps and moans. His grip tightened on my hips, pinning me to the couch as he pounded away at my insides.
“Fuck yeah,” Carl growled against your ear again, his breath hot and rough against your skin. “Look down ma, see what my cocks doing to your motherly pussy.”
Carl grunted as he slammed into me again.
“Look down ma,” he urged my head tilted back against his chest.
I looked down at his hard cock inside me it was so big I could barely see its tip . He watched as his cock pounded into my cunt.
“Ah baby harder,” that’s I couldn’t hold back any longer the way he was rough fucking me felt so damn good.
Carl grunted, his grip tightening on my hips. His cock pounded harder, faster, driving deeper with each thrust. His balls slapped against my ass as his dick hammered away harder in my neglected needy mature cunt.
“Fuck yeah, that’s it!” Carl roared, his voice thick with lust. His hands dug deeper into my hips, pinning me down harder to the couch.
I gasped for breath as he slammed himself deeper inside me again and again. Each thrust felt like fire ripping through my core. My pussy clenched tight around him instinctively, desperate for more of his punishment.
“Oh god…” I choked out between gasps, unable to speak properly over the pounding rhythm of our bodies moving together in this obscene dance of desire and pain-pleasure fusion. “Harder… Harder…” I begged even though words failed me completely
Carl grinned wickedly against my neck as he obeyed without hesitation,” Harder? Oh baby you know I can do harder.” His cock pulsed faster now , burying itself deep inside me with brutal force that made a guttural moan escape from both our lips at once.
Carl’s cock pounded into me like a jackhammer, each thrust driving deep into my core. I felt like I was being torn apart, but in the best possible way. My pussy clenched around him, desperate for more of his brutal punishment.
“Fuck yeah,” Carl muttered, his voice thick with lust. “You’re so tight… so wet…”
“Fuck… you feel so good,” Carl growled into my ear, his voice rough and dripping with lust. His hands gripped my hips tighter, pulling me back onto him as he slammed forward again. “So fuckin’ tight… can’t get enough of this cunt.”
I could feel it building—that pressure deep in my core that threatened to explode at any moment. My pussy clenched around him instinctively, desperate for release as he hammered into me without mercy.
Carl’s thrusts grew more erratic, his grip on my hips bruising as he chased his own release. “Fuck… gonna cum,” he grunted against my neck, hot breath fanning over my skin. He grunted and went stiff as he pumped me with his load.
“Fucking hell,” I sweated heavily breathing as Carl pulled out of me. I adjusted my panties to cover myself as they got dressed.