The room was dimly lit, the only sound the steady rhythm of Anthony’s thrusts into Elena’s unresponsive body. His wife lay beneath him, staring blankly at the ceiling, her limbs limp and lifeless. Anthony grimaced, feeling his revulsion growing with every shallow penetration. He hated the feel of her, the taste of her, the very presence of her. But he needed release, and so he continued to go through the motions, his mind numbing with each desultory stroke. As he neared climax, Anthony’s thoughts began to stray to someone else entirely – his mother, Jeanne Catherine Lamonica. He imagined her plump, rounded body, her heavy breasts, and buxom hips. He pictured her flushed, eager face, her lust-clouded eyes. For years, he had harbored a secret attraction to her, a taboo desire that burned within him, fueling his darkest fantasies. Lost in thought, Anthony didn’t notice his mother slip into the room, her presence made evident by the soft creak of the door. He only became aware of her when she spoke, her voice low and husky, dripping with arousal. “Stop fucking that boring cunt, Anthony,” Jeanne said, sauntering closer to the bed. “She can’t even pretend to enjoy it, can she?” Anthony paused mid-thrust, his cock still buried inside Elena’s slack pussy. He looked up at his mother, his heart racing as he took in her wanton appearance – her wild, tousled hair; the sheer, silky robe that clung to her ample curves; the flushed, needy look in her eyes. “Mom,” he breathed, his voice hoarse with a mix of shock, excitement, and trepidation. “What are you doing here?” Jeanne ignored his question, her attention focused solely on her son’s erection. “You don’t need that useless piece of ass when you could be splitting my pussy wide open,” she purred, reaching out to stroke Anthony’s hard shaft. “Don’t you want to feel something real, something amazing, for once in your life?” Anthony felt his reservations crumbling under his mother’s persuasive touch. He knew the act was perverse, that it was wrong on so many levels. But the desire burning inside him was too strong to resist. He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Jeanne smiled, her eyes gleaming with triumph and lust. “Good boy,” she cooed, guiding Anthony’s hands to her ample tits. “Now, let’s show this useless cow how a real woman takes a cock.”
With a shared look of depravity, Anthony and his mother began to undress each other, shedding clothes as if in a fevered rush. Elena lay motionless, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, oblivious to the scandalous scene unfolding above her. Once nude, Jeanne spread her legs wide, presenting her dripping pussy to her son. “Claim me, Anthony,” she urged, her voice heavy with need. “Make me yours.” Anthony needed no further encouragement. He grasped his mother’s hips, aligning his throbbing cock with her slick entrance. With a single, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself inside her, groaning at the exquisite sensation of her tight, welcoming heat. As he began to move, Jeanne wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her clenching core. “Yes, baby,” she moaned, her fingers digging into his back. “Fuck me like you mean it. Show that pathetic excuse for a wife what a real man can do.” Anthony lost himself in the primal pleasure of the moment, his hips snapping forward in deep, punishing strokes. Jeanne met each thrust with a wanton cry, her body arching off the bed, her nails raking down his back. Meanwhile, Elena remained still as a statue, her mind utterly blank to the debauchery occurring mere inches from her face. Anthony’s abandon and his mother’s shameless abandon only served to heighten his arousal, his thrusts growing more erratic and powerful with each passing second. As the tension coiled tighter within him, Anthony felt his climax approaching, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. With a guttural roar, he slammed into his mother one final time, his cock pulsing as he spurted his hot seed deep into her spasming pussy. Jeanne’s cries reached a fever pitch as she came undone around her son, her inner walls milking him for every last drop. Together, they rode out the aftershocks of their shared orgasm, their bodies slick with sweat and cum, their breathing ragged. In the aftermath, Anthony collapsed onto the bed, his chest heaving with exertion. Jeanne snuggled up beside him, her face flushed with post-coital bliss. “That was incredible, Anthony,” she purred, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “You’re such a good boy, so eager to please me. I hope you’ll do it again soon.” As they lay there in the dim, intimate light, Anthony and his mother shared a look of unspoken understanding, a pact forged in the heat of their taboo desires. And Elena, oblivious to it all, simply lay there, a mere spectator to the scandalous, unforgettable scene that had just unfolded.