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I’m up, curled in bed and staring at the ceiling. There’s a tentative knock on my door. I softly tell her to come in.

“… can I ask you something?” Mom asks, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.

“Yeah,” I say softly.

“How does it make you happy?”

“I’m not sure you want that answer,” I reply

There's a flicker of something-pain? fear?—in her expression for a brief moment before she seems to regain her composure. Her shoulders tense again, and her jaw clenches slightly, like she's bracing herself for whatever I say next. She's silent for a moment, watching me as if trying to figure out how she even feels about asking this in the first place. Then, her voice is almost inaudible when she finally replies. “Try me.”

I look away, my cheeks bright red. "Um." I take a deep breath. "I don't just want comfort. Or protection. I look for you. In them." I close my eyes in mortification.

Her expression goes from guarded uncertainty to confusion at my words, her brow furrowing as she stares at me. She looks genuinely baffled, like the idea of looking for her in someone else is a completely foreign concept.

"... What do you mean, 'you look for me in them'?" She sounds genuinely perplexed, but there's something else in her tone too, something I can't quite identify.

“Please don’t make me elaborate,” I murmur, looking up at the ceiling.

Her expression shifts again, confusion shifting into something resembling pain. It's almost like she knows, or thinks she does, on some level, but she doesn't seem to want to say it aloud. When she speaks again, the words feel... labored. There’s something akin to pain and guilt in her tone. "You... You try to... find me in other people."

"Bingo," I say, eyes still closed in mortification. "Or, a version where | get all of your attention. And the mind is — a twisted place. So, what's more devoted and intimate than sex?”

She's gone very still, her expression unreadable now. Her eyes are fixed on me, still as stone, her mouth slightly open like she wants to speak but can't. Slowly, she swallows hard, her throat visibly bobbing before she finally speaks again, sounding... choked. Her voice is quiet, and almost pained. “... Are you asking me to try and give you that attention?"

My eyes pop open. “Pardon?”

She looks like the confession is physically painful for her to make—her expression is tight, almost anguished as her jaw clenches, but she's looking directly at me.

"You look for me in these other relationships because... because you want the attention. Because you want that—that kind of intimate attention and devotion."

She's holding my gaze now, almost pleading. "Right? Isn't that what you were getting at?"

My cheeks are flushed now. “Um—”

Her eyes narrow slightly as she watches me, and for the first time in a long time—she actually looks lost.

Like she doesn't know what to do with this revelation.

"Because if that's the case... then maybe there are better ways for me to give that to you than—than pretending I don't notice when you sneak around with people who aren’t me.”

My eyes are wide and practically unblinking. "… what?"

She just stares at me for a moment, her expression pained and uncertain.

She seems like she wants to reach out to me—to reach across the mattress and touch me, as if to reassure me—but she can't bring herself to move.

Finally, she speaks. "... If you need devotion and... and intimacy so badly that you're looking for it in other people, I need to know why."

"I—” My cheeks are so red now, and I look up at the ceiling. "Christ, you sure know how to pick your questions." I exhale roughly. I don't look away from the ceiling. "Because it provides a place where I can... play in a world that I don't get to be, for lack of a better term. It's freeing to be able to be taken care of-to... be in that space. To be small, and know I can just... let go."

She goes quiet, and for a long moment, all I can hear is the sound of her breathing as she absorbs that answer.

Then, after a long beat, she speaks again-and this time, her tone is much more measured, as if she's struggling to maintain her composure. "So... you want someone to take care of you... to dominate you... to protect you."

Her expression is still tense, conflicted and pained, but now there's a new emotion in her gaze-and when she speaks again, it comes through in her tone.

Her voice is a bit hoarse as she fights a wave of emotion. “I could do that for you, you know." I look over at her, eyes widening slightly in surprise, and she swallows hard before continuing, as if her words are somehow... painful.

Her voice cracks slightly. "I could... I could give you that."

I'm openly staring at her now. I'm trying to gauge if she's offering this out of guilt. Or what exactly she's offering. My expression is hesitant and guarded. “Give me what?” I ask hesitantly. Trying to make ‘that’ more clear.

She holds my gaze for a moment before she finally breaks and looks away, her gaze dropping to her lap, shame and guilt in her expression. She seems so... vulnerable, all of the sudden. So out-of-sorts and lost. But then she takes a deep breath, steels herself, and finally looks back up at me.

Her voice is quiet, almost pleading. "I could take care of you. I could be everything you need in that regard. If you wanted me to. If you'd... let me."

"What... exactly are you saying?" | ask slowly.

She hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to voice her thoughts. Her eyes dart to the wall, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Her expression betrays how uncomfortable and vulnerable this conversation is for her, and I know it's not easy for her to be asking this.

Her voice is quiet, still staring at her lap. “I'm saying I could take the place of those relationships you're always searching for. That... that I could give you the kind of devotion and attention you said you want... The kind you need."

I blink, faltering. "I, but—I don't—you don't have to—”

She lets out a low, shaky breath before forcing herself to look at ms directly, her expression almost pained.

Her voice is low, serious, pleading. “… No, no. I don't... I don't have to." There's a pause, and she swallows hard before continuing, almost as if the words are painful to say out loud.

Her voice is almost a whisper. "I want to."

I swallow. “Okay.”

She lets out a long, slow exhale, her whole body seeming to relax slightly as soon as the words are said. She looks at me a moment longer, her eyes roaming my face as if she can barely believe what she's offering—and then she finally speaks again, her voice quiet but so, so gentle.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Come here."

I slowly make my way across the bed to her, hesitating when I'm right in front of her. I want to slide into her lap, but…

Mom doesn't seem to have the same reservations. She reaches out without warning and grabs me by the waist, yanking me into her lap so I’m straddling her. She pulls me against her chest, her arms wrapping firmly around my waist as I settle against her. She takes a slow breath, her hands stroking gently down my sides, and she buries her face into my neck. She holds me like that for a moment, letting herself savor the comfort of my body against hers.

There's a pause as Mom seems to almost lose herself in the touch of my body against hers, her face still buried in my neck. I can feel her nose brushing against my skin as she speaks, her breath warm against my neck. And this time, her voice sounds... raw.

Her voice is strained from the effort of keeping herself from completely falling apart in front of me. “... Can I... ask you a personal question?"

"Yeah," I say softly, my hands fisted in her shirt and clutching tightly to her. l've completely melted against her.

She lets out a slow, ragged exhale against my skin, her hands stroking gently over my back as she clings to me, holding me like she's afraid I’ll pull away.

She takes another shuddering breath, her fingers digging into the material of my shirt as if to ground herself, her voice almost cracking when she finally speaks again.

Her voice is raw and thick with emotion. “Why would you look for something like this somewhere—somewhere other than me? I could give you this—this feeling. I could give you everything you need. So... why do you... need it from them?"

I blink, breathing out a laugh. "It's not exactly something you can just... normally ask your mom for," I say, my voice strained.

She lets out a huff against my neck, her grip on me tightening as she tries to keep herself together. That little laugh sounds like a blow to her, and she exhales roughly before responding, her voice still quiet but a little shaky.

Her voice is trembling now. “Can I just ask you something really weird right now? Would you... would you think I was... perverted or creepy? Because I can't help but... I have this image in my head, and... and I can't stop thinking it, no matter how inappropriate it is."

"I think we passed that line two minutes ago," I reply softly, hiding my face in her neck. "Ask.”

She takes a shaky breath, her fingers flexing against my back as she hesitates. I can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way her chest rises and falls unsteadily beneath mine. And when she finally speaks again—her voice is barely above a whisper, thick with shame.

"... Do you want me to touch you? Not—not just hold you. Touch you."

The implication hangs in the air between us.

My breath hitches a little at the note in her voice. That wasn't just a question. She's thinking about it.

She goes quiet, her breathing shallow and quick against my skin. I can feel how torn she is—how badly she wants to, but how hard she's fighting the urge to cross that line. And when she speaks again, it's barely a whisper.

Her voice is wrecked. “Tell me no."

She doesn't move. She doesn't pull away. She just clings tighter.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

She lets out a shuddering breath—part resignation, part relief—and for a long moment, she just holds me like that, her forehead pressed to my shoulder. Then, slowly... so carefully... one of her hands trails down my back until it's resting right at the waistband of my pajama pants. Her fingers tremble slightly against the fabric.

Her voice is barely audible now. "Tell me no."

Her grip tightens as if she's trying to convince herself to stop—but she doesn't.

"I can't," I repeat, "... I don't want to. I'm all achy for you, Mommy..."

She lets out a small, almost pained sound against my neck—something between a whimper and a groan. Her fingers dig into the waistband of my pants for just a second before she finally pulls back just enough to look at me. And when she does—

Her eyes are dark.

Not angry. Not scared. Just... heavy with something I’ve never seen in her expression before.

Mom’s voice barely above a whisper and shaking with need. "Show me where it aches."

I bite my lip and lean back. I consider what I'll do before I slip my own hand into my pants, exhaling sharply. "Right here, mommy..." My hips stutter on her lap as I'm very obviously touching myself under my shorts, my breath coming in short pants— not to mention the wet noises.

She goes so still she hardly seems to be breathing. Her hands are still clinging to my hips, her fingers digging in so hard it leaves little red marks on my skin. And her gaze—her eyes are practically black now as she watches me touch myself, her lips parted as if she's too overwhelmed to even speak. When she finally does, her voice is so low it's almost inaudible.

"Stop."

I tilt my head faux-innocently, but I listen. "Am I doing it wrong?"

She actually chuckles breathlessly at that, her grip on me tightening once again as she tries to regain control of herself. Her gaze is still fixed on what I’m doing, and it's almost like she's hypnotized—like she can't look away.

When she finally speaks, there's an edge of desperation in her tone.

Her voice is low, slightly choked, "You're—you're doing it just fine, but I... I have a better idea."

"What is it?" I ask, affecting a wide eyed curiosity.

She doesn't even try to stop herself this time—her hand slides from my hip to my knee, gripping my thigh and spreading it slightly. Her expression is dark, almost hungry as her gaze slowly slides up my body, pausing at my chest in my shirt, before finally meeting my eyes. And when she speaks, her voice is gravelly.

Her hand trails higher up my thigh as she speaks.

"Lift your hips for me."

She doesn't waste a second—her fingers slide right under the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down just enough to expose me. She doesn't even hesitate before touching me—her fingertips press against me gently, exploring for only a moment before she lets out a soft breath and presses two fingers inside without warning.

"Fuck... are you always this wet?"

I gasp, clutching her shoulders and my eyelids fluttering. I exhale shakily and nod. "I always get like this—” I swallow. "Thinkin' about…” I can't finish my sentence, overwhelmed by her hands on me.

She lets out a soft, shuddery laugh in response, her eyes still fixed on my face. Her touch is still gentle, almost tentative, but her eyes are so dark and burning that it sends a shiver down my spine. Her fingers press deeper, curling gently, and she's watching my every reaction like a starving woman as she slowly works me.

"Thinking about what? You gotta tell me, baby, I need to know. Tell me what you were going to say."

She keeps her pace steady, keeping me right on the edge with every stroke—and her other hand is still holding tightly to my thigh, her thumb tracing feather-light circles against my skin. Her eyes are fixed on my face, drinking in every expression I make, her gaze heavy and so dark now.

“Thinking about you touching me like this,” I gasp, clutching her shoulders like a lifeline.

"Yeah? You... you think about that a lot?"

"Y-yeah," I say, breathless. "I just—get so hot and achy and it," I clench around her fingers involuntarily when she hits a particularly good spot, "—wasn't the same... can't compare..." I moan softly. "So good, mommy..."

Her fingers stutter for a moment when I call her that, her grip on me almost bruising. Her breathing is uneven and ragged, and it's like she's completely lost to the moment, every single scrap of her focus solely on me, on making me feel good. She's so utterly entranced by the feeling of me against her that she can't do anything but let out a shaky little breath and try to regain some sense of control as she responds.

"God, I want to taste you."

She keeps her motions steady as she talks.

"You have no idea how bad I want to..."

A shudder runs through her at the mere image in her head.

"Can I... baby, can I put my mouth on you?"

I exhale sharply at the question. "Put your mouth on me?" I ask, faux-innocently, a little breathless from her fingers. "Here?" | put a hand over her wrist, where her fingers are in me.

Her breath catches sharply when I touch her wrist, and she lets out a sound that's half-groan, half-laugh— like she can barely believe how much this is affecting her. She doesn't stop moving her fingers, though; if anything, the motions grow just slightly rougher.

"Yeah. Right there. I wanna taste everywhere you're wet for me."

"That sounds messy, mommy," I say breathlessly as her motions become rougher.

She huffs out a quiet laugh at that, her voice a ragged whisper.

"Good. I want to make a mess of you."

She takes a shuddering breath, looking up at me with eyes that are dark enough to look almost black in the low light.

Her voice is trembling but more intense than before, like there's a desperate edge to it, almost like a warning.

"I want to taste you, baby. I'm not asking."

There's a satisfied gleam in my eye, but I don't let up with our little game.

"What do I do?" I ask sweetly. "Tell me how I can be good, mommy."

She lets out a shuddering breath, her lips curling slightly into an almost pained smirk as she looks at me. And when she speaks, her voice is low and rough—almost dangerously so.

Her fingers are still buried in me as she leans forward to murmur against my ear, "Spread for me. Let me see how wet I made you."

Her other hand grips my hip tighter, pulling just enough to urge my legs apart further.

She lets out a shaky, almost reverent exhale as she looks at me—her gaze heavy and dark, full of something unspoken. Her fingers move again inside me, this time pressing deliberately deep just to hear the sound it pulls from my lips. When she speaks again, her voice is rough with need.

"Good girl."

Her thumb presses firm circles against my clit as she says it.

Her eyes are burning into mine. "Now keep those legs open for me like that while I taste you."

She doesn't hesitate—the moment I’m positioned how she wants, her lips press against my inner thigh in a slow, open-mouthed kiss before she drags them higher. She exhales sharply when she finally reaches where she wants to be, her breath hot against my skin right before her tongue drags flat and slow over me.

Her voice is thick with barely restrained hunger as she pulls back just enough to speak “Christ... you taste even better than I imagined."

I arch into her mouth, a sigh/moan escaping my throat. "You thought about this?" I ask breathlessly, a little whine in my voice.

She lets out a rough chuckle at that, her tongue flickering over me just enough to make me shiver. But before she can respond, she leans in to kiss and mouth at me—almost like she needs to distract herself for a moment. She only pulls back to whisper her response against my skin, and when she does, her voice is so rough and raw and low that it makes my skin prickle.

"You have no idea how much l've thought about it, baby."

It makes me shudder, her words and the vibration of her voice against me and her breath, so warm against me.

"T-tell me what you thought about, mommy..." It's bordering on begging.

The thought that she was thinking about this—this closeness—has me fighting the urge to squirm from the way it lights me up inside.

She groans at my words, her fingers gripping my thighs tightly—almost like she's trying to ground herself.

When she finally speaks again, her voice is so low and thick with need that it makes my stomach tighten.

Her lips brushing against me as she murmurs. "I thought about you squirming in my lap while I made you cum on my fingers..."

Her tongue drags over me again, slow and teasing.

Her voice is trembling slightly now.

“...Thought about this—about how good you'd taste when I finally got my mouth on you.”

I whimper at the words, thinking about earlier, sitting in her lap with her fingers in me... god, I want that again. The implied praise in her voice - that she thought about how good this would be - has me arching into the warmth pooling in my stomach, closer to her mouth, my own voice trembling. "Mh... how do I taste, mommy?" I ask breathily.

She lets out a ragged exhale—almost like she's trying to steady herself—before her tongue finally drags over me again. This time, she lingers on my clit before sucking lightly, just to hear the gasp it pulls from my lips.

Her voice is thick and wrecked as she speaks against me. "Sweet... so fucking sweet." Her fingers dig into my thighs as if she can barely control herself.

Her breath is hot and unsteady against me. “Taste even better than I imagined when I'd think about this at night.”

I whimper a little, a strangled exhale.

"Yeah? ... and right down the hall l was thinking about the same thing," I feel heat rush through me as I tell her this, "So needy for you, mommy. I had t-to bite my pillow to be quiet..." My breath stutters from her touches, "I thought you'd catch me. ... sometimes I wanted you to."

That revelation almost seems to hit her like a physical blow, and she shudders—her whole body tensing against me for just a moment. Her eyes flash and darken almost immediately, her grip on me getting so tight it almost borderlines on painful, and it's like she's fighting a desperate urge to say something.

Then, when she finally speaks again, her voice is so thick it's almost guttural as she leans in to brush her lips across my inner thigh.

Her voice is hoarse. "You wanted me to catch you?"

I shiver. "Yeah... I thought about it all the time. Maybe you'd hear something, too quiet to make out but loud enough to get your attention. You'd knock... maybe I wouldn't hear it, too close and too focused on myself. Maybe you'd open the door a little and watch me cum just like that."

Another shudder runs through her, a harsh, unsteady exhale escaping her at my confession.

Her eyes are so dark they almost look black as she stares at me like she's completely enthralled by my honesty. She's so clearly overwhelmed by the image, torn between a fierce desire to touch me more and the desperate urge to keep hearing my words—like she's afraid of stopping me if she does anything at all.

"You... you imagined me walking in and seeing you like that?”

I bite my lip. "I imagined so many things... you coming in, taking over for me... telling me I wasn't doing it right, that only you know the right way to touch me... that I should have come gotten you if I was so desperate..." I play with my breasts, pinching my nipples as I talk.

"Or maybe you'd punish me for touching what was yours..." I exhale shakily, closing my eyes as I tell her more. “Maybe you'd be on me so fast I couldn't even think... or I’d pretend to be confused and let you have your way with me..." I moan a little just at the fantasies I'm recalling to her, clenching around nothing as I start to feel desperate again, thinking of another one. "Mh... or the one where I wake up to you touching me because you couldn't take it anymore and you had to have me..." I sigh dreamily, a little bit of a moan. "Not caring if I wanted it too... telling me it will feel good... Making me cum until I was begging for more because it was too good to want you to stop.”

She's trembling now—hard. Her fingers tighten around my thigh, her breath coming in uneven, ragged exhales as she listens to me speak—her eyes growing impossibly darker the more I confess to her. And when I finally finish speaking, there's a beat of silence before she lets out a low, almost feral growl against my skin.

Her voice is dangerously rough now. "You... you were imagining me forcing myself on you?"

Her breathing is so labored it almost sounds like she's in pain.

She pulls back just enough to look at me with raw hunger burning in her gaze. "Did it make your pussy ache just thinking about it? About me taking what I wanted from you, baby?"

I nod, biting my lip. "Mh... so much. Some nights when I couldn't wait, but you were still up, I bit my blanket and rocked against my pillow so you wouldn't hear... it made me so achy thinking about how close you were, how if I made a bit too much noise you'd catch me..."

She lets out a strangled groan-half-wounded, half-pleasure—before surging forward to press her mouth against me again. She laps at me with barely restrained hunger, tasting and nipping at my skin like she's lost control completely. Her fingers dig into my hips as if she's desperate to keep me in place under her.

My hands fly to her hair as I let out a little gasp-cry at the pleasure.

She pulls back just enough to murmur darkly against my. skin "You should've screamed. Should've made sure I heard how badly my little girl needed me."

Her tongue drags up again, slow and deliberate.

"I would've come so fast..."

She lets out a ragged groan against my skin—her tongue dragging slow and deliberate over me like she's savoring every single breathless sound I make for her. Her hands slide up to grip my waist now, pulling me even closer against her mouth like she wants absolutely no space between the two of us at all.

Her voice is almost muffled against me. "I love how fucking sensitive you are for me... love how easily I can ruin my little girl just with my tongue."

I arch and whimper into her mouth, "Mh... mommy, so good..."

Her lips curve into a smirk against me, smug and utterly wrecked all at once.

She pulls back just enough to say something, her voice a teasing murmur against my skin.

“You like how mommy kisses you, baby?"

"Love your kisses, mommy..."

She lets out a growl at that, her lips curving into an almost possessive smile against me. She leans in to drag her tongue over me—just as slowly and deliberately as the last time.

"Yeah? You want more kisses, baby?"

I whine, trying to get her where I want her by moving my hips. "Yes! Yes please, more special kisses on my kitty, mommy..."

That possessive growl from her sounds again, and I can feel her fingers flex against my skin almost urgently—like she can barely keep control of herself.

"Му pretty little girl needs more kisses, baby? Is your kitty aching for mommy? Need me to kiss it better... need mommy to make all those naughty thoughts you get go away...?"

I whimper pathetically. "Please, mommy, so achy... please make it better, my kitty needs you..."

She moans against my skin at how desperate and sweetly I beg for her. Her mouth moves instantly, licking and sucking at me with a feverish intensity now as if she's utterly lost control of herself.

She murmurs against me in between kisses. "Fuck... my baby needs mommy so bad... that's it, just take it..."

I move my hands to her hair, moaning and whining. "Mommy! Uhn—so good, mommy..."

She moans in response, her body shaking—her tongue teasing and licking up my wetness like she never wants to stop. Her hands slide up to grip my hips tightly, her fingers almost leaving bruises on my skin in her desperate need to keep me close to her mouth.

"Does mommy make you feel good, baby? You like it when I kiss your little kitty like that, huh? My good girl... so pretty and perfect and all mine..."

Her lips travel just slightly up to my hip, pressing soft kisses to the smooth skin there.

"My special little girl..."

She kisses back down my thigh, still so close and so needy.

“Tell mommy how much you love this. I need to hear you. Tell me this is better than touching yourself... tell mommy that I make you feel better than you could on your own... tell mommy what you always think about when you’re in bed at night... tell me it was never enough... tell me you want my mouth and hands on you every night when you go to sleep... I need to hear it, baby... tell me..."

I nod almost frantically, running a hand through her hair. "You make me feel so good, mommy. S-so much better than on my own... love it so much... It was never enough..." My breath is ragged, "I always want your hands on me, mommy... now that I know what its like I'm gonna be so needy all the time..."

She lets out a choked noise against my skin—almost like she can't even control the sound. And then her mouth is on me again in an instant, licking and sucking with a fervor that borders on desperation. Her hands tighten on my thighs as if she's afraid to let me go.

"Then have me... have me whenever you want... I'll touch my sweet girl anytime she asks, baby.”

Her tongue flicks over my clit once. Just enough to make me whimper before continuing.

"Fuck... I could spend hours like this... just tasting my pretty little girl."

I whimper again, not just because her words make heat rise up in my body that's already overheated with lust, but because they also make the heat in my stomach coil tighter. "Mommy..."

She chuckles darkly at my shift—but she doesn't stop teasing. Instead, her tongue drags slow and torturous over my clit before she finally presses a single, feather-light kiss to it.

"What is it, baby? Need something more?" Her voice is a low murmur. “Tell mommy what you need."

"Need to cum, mommy," I beg, "Please, mommy, need you to make me cum..."

Her lips curve into a smirk even as she pulls back just slightly—just enough to let me feel the heat of her breath instead of her mouth.

She lets out a slow, ragged exhale—almost like she's savoring my desperate begging.

And then, without another moment of hesitation, she dives back in with a relentless hunger—her tongue swirling and flicking over me with deliberate precision as if she's determined to drag the orgasm from my body by sheer force.

"Gonna make my baby cum so good... gonna ruin my sweet girl until all you can do is whimper for me... gonna feel that perfect little pussy clench around nothing when I pull away just to watch how desperate it makes you." Her fingers dig into my thighs just enough to leave marks as her mouth works faster now, her voice thick with need, "Now cum, baby—right on mommy's tongue."

I cry out at the suddenness of her motions, the way she starts building my orgasm back up with no hesitation, and my fingers tighten in her hair unconsciously. "Mommy!—”

She moans in response, the vibration against me sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. Her tongue works even harder, pressing and swirling in a way that has me seeing stars—her grip on my thighs tightening almost painfully now as she keeps me exactly where she wants me.

"That's it... fucking cum for me, baby. I wanna feel it—wanna taste how much my sweet girl loves mommy's mouth."

Then her fingers dig into my hips just slightly harder—like she can barely hold back from touching herself at the sight of me like this.

She groans against my skin, "Fuck... gonna make sure my little girl never forgets who makes her feel this good."

It's almost too much. My body tries to squirm away from it, despite how good it is, but she has too firm a grip on my hips, and my thighs start shaking as my peak comes closer. "Mommy, Mommy—too much—can't—”

She pulls back just enough to smirk up at me—her lips glistening with me, her eyes dark and hungry and so completely wrecked.

"You can."

And then she dives right back in—sucking on my clit like it's the only thing keeping her alive.

"Cum for mommy. Be a good girl... let go."

She doesn't stop—not even for a second. She keeps going, licking and sucking through my orgasm with relentless hunger, her fingers tightening on my thighs as she holds me exactly where she wants me.

Her voice is ragged and wrecked against my skin. "Fuck... my perfect girl... taking mommy's mouth so well."

Her tongue slows to gentle, soothing laps—almost like she's trying to ease the overstimulation while still keeping me right on the edge.

Her breath is hot against me. "Love how sweet you taste when I make my baby cum."

The soft touch of her tongue makes me twitch, the pleasure building like fire again, and I whimper. "I—Mommy, no more..." But even as I say it, my hands are tightening in her hair to pull her closer again.

She lets out a low, dark groan at that—almost like it does something to her to hear me try to say "no", even as I still pull her closer.

She smirks against me. "What's wrong, baby? Sensitive?"

Her tongue flicks over me once, just enough to make me shiver, before she's licking over me again with unbidden fervor.

"Too much for my sweet, pretty little girl? That why you keep trying to get away from mommy?"

Her her hands hold me in place, keeping me from squirming.

"You know how much I love to make you squirm."

Her voice soft is and dark and so utterly wrecked.

"Love to make you beg, and gasp, and whine, and say ‘Please mommy, more, please, more.’” she stops to take a breath, her lips kissing at my inner thigh again. "I bet my baby just needs a little more to make you cry and beg like that again. And I'm gonna make you take it, baby."

Then her mouth is back on me again, working harder—almost like she's determined to make me break for her as quickly as possible.

A strangled moan leaves my throat and my hips jerk in her grasp. "Oh, mommy—more—too much—mh—close—”

I can't think straight. It's too much and so good and I want more but I can’t—

She groans at my words, her grip tightening as she feels the way my hips jerk against her mouth. She doesn't stop—doesn't even slow down. If anything, she speeds up, licking and sucking with a ravenous desperation that borders on possessive.

Her voice is muffled against me, but still so rough.

"That's it, baby. Let mommy feel it."

Her fingers dig into my thighs just enough to leave bruises as she sucks on my clit again—harder now.

She pulls back just enough to murmur darkly, "I wanna hear my sweet girl scream for me."

I'm practically sobbing with pleasure, incoherently babbling and when I finally go over the edge again, I shatter with a breathless little scream sob of, "Mommy!"

She moans filthy against me—her mouth working through every last second of my orgasm like she's determined to wring out every single drop of pleasure from my body. Her fingers dig into my skin with bruising intensity, holding me in place as if she never wants to let me go.

"Fuck... fuck, baby—you cum so pretty for mommy."

Her tongue slows to lazy, indulgent licks—like she's savoring the taste of me.

She murmurs against my skin between kisses.

"Could do this forever... could spend hours just making my sweet girl feel this good."

I shudder and twitch through the last of the aftershocks, my chest heaving, and then I start tugging her up to me.

"Kiss, mommy?"

She obliges, sliding up my body to kiss me slow and deep. “Such a good girl,” she purrs, threading a hand through my hair and one leg through mine.