Incest with my real Mom(Scene 1- 10) Full Complete.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 5

After a long, incredible moment—a blur of heat and soft, strong suction—Mommy finally pulled back. I was dizzy, breathing hard, feeling like I might pass out from the intensity.
I stood there, still naked from the waist down, staring at her. She rose slowly to her feet, her magnificent breasts rising before my eyes, barely contained by the small, damp bra. She gave me a triumphant, sensual smile, a look that said, I know exactly what I did.
I didn’t know what to do next. I felt paralyzed. Obviously, this was my mom. She wasn't supposed to laugh at me like that, ripping my covers off and calling my dick "tiny." And she definitely wasn’t supposed to drop to her knees and give me the best head I had ever had. And I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it.
But I did. I found it so intensely hot that my own mother, the woman who raised me, now knew exactly how small my soft cock was, and had then used her mouth to worship my hard one. It was the most forbidden, intoxicating thing that had ever happened to me.
I had only just recently discovered what SPH was, slowly getting into the idea of that shame being a pleasure, but that single moment with my Mommy—the Queen of my home—took it to a whole new, unbelievable level. It felt like a sacred, secret devotion.
I slowly pulled my pants back up, my mind reeling. Mommy didn't offer any explanation. She just smoothed her kurta back on and tidied her hair, turning back into the calm, voluptuous matriarch, the smell of her milk and musk now laced with something far more dangerous.
For the next few days, the memory was a constant, burning fever. And Mommy kept the game going. She didn't touch me again. She didn't make any intention to give me head or do anything physical at all.
Instead, she would drop little hints.
"Aman, have you eaten enough? You look so small this morning!" she'd say, giving me a quick, knowing look. Or if I struggled to open a jar in the kitchen, she’d giggle and say, "Oh, my little beta! You need to grow strong, or you'll never manage to handle big things!"
Every single small dick joke, every little piece of teasing, landed like a hot brand. I found it so incredibly hot. It was a constant, low-level, delicious humiliation. She had established her power, shown me what she could do, and now she was making me wait, forcing me to crave her next move. The sexual tension was thicker than the air in our small house, and I was drowning in it, hoping she would laugh at my size again.