The plush rug was a swamp of her juices, the soundproof glass streaked with her spray, the mic stand rattling in the booth, the walls scarred with our sin.

Her naked body was a blazing relic—breasts bouncing, nipples bruised to a raw violet, thighs slick with a glossy flood, ass a crimson map of my handprints, her pussy a gushing wreck, lips swollen to ruin, juices dripping in obscene torrents.

My cock was still entombed in her, the molten, strangling heat of her walls a relentless chokehold, the Halo a cataclysmic scream in my veins. Her orgasms were a relentless storm, her moans a primal liturgy—

"YEEEAAAH—UNGH—PETER—MY LOVE!"

I never stopped, pounding her like a rabid animal in the booth, her ass arched high, pussy lips dragged inside-out with every brutal stroke, spraying hot, clear arcs of girl-cum that splattered the glass and dripped from the ceiling mic while it recorded every filthy, guttural wail she ripped out of her throat.

The living room screamed for us—the exact couch where she first sinned, where she crawled over her sleeping son three nights ago, shoved her tongue in my mouth, and soaked her panties grinding against my thigh while I was dead to the world.

I felt the memory burn through the Halo now, her shame and hunger flooding me like molten metal.

I yanked her out of the booth, cock never leaving her ruined cunt, the wet, sucking SCHLORP of her pussy trying to keep me inside so loud it echoed down the hall.

I carried her impaled, her legs locked crushing-tight around my waist, thighs spasming like she was being electrocuted, heels gouging bloody trenches down my back, nails shredding skin from my shoulders until hot blood poured down my chest and mixed with the sweat and pussy-juice running off her.

She clawed my back, blood streaming, and screamed into my ear:

"Take me to the couch, baby—fuck your mother right where I molested you in your sleep—where I tongue-fucked your mouth while you were passed out and my pussy dripped on the cushions dreaming of this exact cock!"

I growled back, teeth on her throat:

"You kissed me unconscious, Mom? You tasted your own son without permission? Then I'm gonna punish that thieving mouth with the dick it stole from—starting right fucking now!"

Past Sarah's closed door, the taboo slammed into me like a freight train: my mother skewered balls-deep on her son's cock, dripping a trail of pussy-juice through the house, about to get bred on the very spot she first molested me in my sleep.

We exploded into the living room, LEDs blazing like judgment.

I put her over the armrest so the couch skidded three feet. Her legs stayed locked around my waist, ankles crossed, heels gouging bloody trenches down my back. I ripped into her, hips a blur, balls cracking against her asshole with wet THWACK-THWACK-THWACK sounds.

"Look at this cunt, Mom—look how it's blooming red around my dick—eighteen years you kept it locked, now it's a ruined rose for your son!"

"It's destroyed—my baby's cock turned his mommy's pretty pussy into a gaping, drooling wreck—do it harder, Peter—make it never close again!"

I obliged. Every thrust lifted her ass off the armrest, then slammed her back down; the couch fabric ripped under her, stuffing exploding out like confetti.

Her cunt sprayed in rhythmic arcs—PSSSH PSSSH PSSSH—soaking the cushions dark, the coffee table, my chest, the ceiling.

First orgasm hit her like a seizure: "I'M CUMMING—MY SON'S MAKING HIS MOMMY CUM ON THE COUCH WHERE I RAPED HIS MOUTH—FUUUUCK!"

Her walls locked so hard I had to fight to keep stroking, her squirt geysering around my shaft, frothing white.

Standing, legs locked around me, I fucked her like I wanted to kill her with my cock.

"Remember this spot, Mom?" I snarled, ramming so deep my balls crushed her asshole. "This is where you tongue-fucked your sleeping little boy—now I'm awake and I'm destroying the cunt that kissed me first!"

She screamed back, voice shredded: "YES—PUNISH ME, PETER—PUNISH MOMMY'S DIRTY MOUTH WITH THE COCK IT CRAVED—FUCK THE MEMORY OF THAT KISS RIGHT OUT OF ME!"

The couch became a war zone. Every murderous thrust sent geysers of her squirt exploding across the cushions, the coffee table, the rug—thick, creamy streams that left dark, ruined stains. Her pussy turned inside-out on every stroke, pink flesh clinging to my shaft, frothing white with her cream. The slap-slap-slap-SCHLOCK of my hips and her cunt was so loud it drowned out her heartbeat in my ears.

Orgasm two detonated. "I'M CUMMING ON MY SON'S COCK WHERE I MOLESTED HIM—FUCK—FLOOD MOMMY!" Her cunt locked down like it wanted to snap me in half, milking me in violent spasms, spraying a torrent that soaked us both to the knees.

I spun her, threw her belly-down over the splintering coffee table, wood cracking under her weight, and mounted her again. I slammed upward into her pussy, her tits mashed into broken glass and puddle of her own cum.

"You want to remember kissing me asleep? Then scream it while I fuck the memory out of you!"

She did—voice cracking, spit flying: "I licked your teeth—I sucked your tongue—I humped the air above you wishing this exact cock would wake up and split me—NOW DO IT—SPLIT YOUR MOTHER WHERE SHE SINNED!"

Third, fourth and fifth orgasms detonated in a chain, her cunt spasming so violently it queefed and squirted in every direction, the ruined table swimming in it.

"THE TABLE—YOU'RE BREAKING EVERYTHING I OWN WITH THAT DICK—JUST LIKE YOU'RE BREAKING MOMMY—KEEP GOING—NEVER STOP!"

I lifted her again, standing in the center of the room, her full weight impaled, and jackhammered upward while she bounced like a rag doll.

Orgasm six, seven detonated one after another, each one harder, her screams turning into broken, animal howls: "MY WOMB—MY SON—BREACH IT—BREED IT—MAKE ME CARRY MY OWN GRANDCHILD!"

I slammed her against the wall, plaster exploding into dust, cracks racing to the ceiling. Her back scraped raw, blood streaking down, and still she screamed: "HURT ME—MAKE ME BLEED WHILE YOU IMPREGNATE ME—THIS WALL WILL REMEMBER HOW MY SON CLAIMED HIS MOTHER!"

"Count them, Mom—count how many times your son makes his mother's cunt explode in the room where she first tasted him!"

"SIX—SEVEN—OH GOD PETER I CAN'T STOP CUMMING—YOUR COCK IS KILLING ME AND I NEVER WANT TO LIVE WITHOUT IT!"

Eighth, ninth, tenth orgasms tore her apart, her cunt gushing in endless arcs, the floor a slippery lake of mother-cum, the air so thick with the stench of her ruined pussy I could barely breathe.

I dropped to my knees in the center of the flooded rug, still buried to the hilt, and fucked her straight down into the soaked fibers, using my full weight to hammer her cervix like I wanted to punch back into the womb.

She reached down, spread her ruined lips even wider with trembling fingers, showing me the destruction, and sobbed:

"Look what you did to Mommy's hole—look at your own mother's pussy turned inside out—it's never going back, baby—it's molded to my son's cock forever!"

Orgasms blurred into one endless rolling climax, her body seizing, eyes rolled white, tongue lolling, drooling, only able to scream one broken phrase over and over:

"BREED ME—BREED THE MOUTH THAT KISSED YOU—BREED THE CUNT, YOU—GIVE MOMMY HER BABY'S BABY!"

I roared back, feeling my own edge boiling:

"You want your son's cum where you first stole his kiss? Then take it—take every drop in the exact spot you started this!"

I slammed in, cockhead kissing her womb mouth, and exploded.

Rope after thick rope flooded her, bloating her belly visibly, excess backflowing around my shaft in creamy gushes that mixed with her squirt and poured out like a creamy waterfall.

She milked me with her dying spasms, voice a shredded whisper against my lips:

"I feel it…I feel my baby painting the womb he came from…welcome home, Peter…welcome home…"

She reached back, spread her bruised, swollen asscheeks wide, showing me the tiny winking star above the destruction, and sobbed through another climax: "SEE THIS VIRGIN HOLE? IT'S NEXT, BABY—AFTER YOU FINISH FLOODING MOMMY'S CUNT, YOU'RE RIPPING MY ASS OPEN TOO—EVERY FUCKING HOLE IS YOUR BIRTHRIGHT!"

I roared back, voice raw: "I'M GONNA BREED THIS CUNT FIRST—GONNA PUMP MOMMY'S WOMB SO FULL OF HER SON'S CUM IT'LL LEAK FOR DAYS—THEN I'M TAKING THAT ASS UNTIL YOU CAN'T SIT FOR A WEEK!"

Her final orgasm shattered her—body seizing, eyes rolling white, cunt spasming so hard it forced a thick mix of cream and squirt around my cock in pulsing jets. She screamed one last time, voice completely broken: "DO IT—BREED ME WHERE I FIRST SINNED—FILL THE CUNT THAT BIRTHED YOU—MAKE MOMMY PREGNANT WITH HER OWN SON'S BABY!"

We were fucking like the world was ending on the exact spot she first tasted my mouth in secret, her body destroyed, the living room flooded and wrecked, every piece of furniture bearing witness to the moment I claimed what was always mine.

And we burned, together, drowning in the unending.

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