Suzy had always thought of herself as a respectable woman. Forty-two, still firm from yoga and walking, dark hair that she kept long because Andrew once said he liked it that way. She worked in marketing. She cooked. She kept the house clean. She told herself the heat that had been building for two years was just loneliness after the divorce.
Andrew knew better.
He was twenty-five, taller than her now, shoulders that had filled out, a cock that had gone from a teenage embarrassment to something that made her swallow when she accidentally saw it through his shorts. He had started calling her “Mommy” again in a voice that wasn’t boyish. He had started leaving his laundry on the floor with a pair of her panties mixed in. He had started looking at her like he already owned the deed.
The conference was in Chicago. Three days. Hotel suite with a connecting door he had requested. “I’ll help you with the slides,” he said. “You get nervous presenting.”
She packed the black pencil skirt and the cream blouse that buttoned too low if she wasn’t careful. She packed the lace panties he had once “found” in the dryer and held up to his face when he thought she wasn’t looking.
They checked in at 4 p.m. Andrew tipped the bellhop and locked the door. The suite was quiet except for the air conditioner.
“Take the skirt off,” he said. Not a request.
Suzy’s hands went to the zipper. She told herself it was just the heat, just the way he looked at her. The skirt slithered down. She stood in blouse, heels, and the black lace that barely covered anything.
Andrew sat on the edge of the bed and crooked a finger. “Come here. Turn around. Hands on the desk.”
She did. He hooked two fingers in the waistband of her panties and peeled them down to her thighs. He didn’t take them off. He pressed his face between her ass cheeks and inhaled.
“These smell like you all day,” he murmured against her. “I’ve been hard since the airport.”
His tongue dragged from her perineum up to her hole. Suzy’s knees dipped. He licked her there like he was claiming territory, slow, wet, filthy. One hand reached between her legs and found her already slick.
“Mommy’s wet for her son. Say it.”
“I’m wet for you.”
“Louder.”
“I’m wet for my son.”
He stood. The sound of his belt was loud in the room. When he freed himself she heard her own small sound. He was thick, long, the kind of cock that made her mouth water and her hole clench at the same time. The head was already shiny.
“On your knees. Open.”
She dropped. He fed it to her slowly at first, letting her taste the salt, then he took her hair in both hands and used her mouth. He fucked her throat with the same unhurried ownership he used for everything else. Spit ran down her chin onto her blouse. She gagged and he held her there until her eyes watered, then pulled back and slapped the wet head against her tongue.
“Good girl. Get it sloppy. That’s going in your ass later.”
He let her suck until her jaw ached, then pulled her up by the hair and bent her over the desk. The conference binder was still sitting there. He shoved it aside. Her panties were still around her thighs like a leash.
He spat on her hole, pressed the fat head against it, and pushed.
Suzy’s mouth opened on a sound that wasn’t quite a word. He was too big. He always was. He worked himself in with short, mean thrusts until the ridge of the head popped inside, then he paused and rubbed her back.
“Breathe. You wanted this. You’ve been walking around the house in those little shorts knowing exactly what you were doing.”
He sank the rest of the way in one long slide. Her ass stretched around the thickest part of him and she made a broken noise. He started fucking her. Deep. Slow at first, then harder, the wet slap of his hips against her ass filling the suite. One hand reached around and found her clit. The other stayed in her hair.
“This is mine now,” he said against her ear. “This hole. This mouth. These tits. You don’t get to pretend anymore.”
She came on his cock with her face pressed to the blotter, shaking, trying not to scream because the walls were thin. He didn’t stop. He kept pounding her through it until she was oversensitive and whimpering, then he pulled out, flipped her onto the bed, and pushed back into her ass from the front so he could watch her face.
He made her hold her own legs. He made her look at him. He made her say “I love you, baby” and “fuck Mommy’s ass” and “it’s yours” in a voice that cracked.
When he finally came he buried himself to the root and flooded her, thick pulses that she could feel. He stayed inside while he softened, kissing her mouth like they were lovers instead of what they were.
They showered together. He washed her himself, fingers in her sore hole, thumb on her clit until she came again against the tile. He dried her and laid her on the bed and told her to stay naked.
That night they ordered room service. She ate in his lap with his cock half-hard against her ass. He fed her from his fork. After, he made her kneel on the carpet and sniff the panties she had worn on the plane while he stroked himself. He came on her face and told her to leave it.
Day two they barely left the room. He invented games.
One: she had to crawl to him whenever he snapped his fingers. If she was too slow he tickled her until she screamed and then fucked her throat to shut her up.
Two: strip. He sat in the chair by the window and she had to take one item off every time he said “again.” Blouse. Bra. He made her turn, bend, spread. When she was naked he had her sit on his face while he ate her ass and pussy until she soaked his chin.
Three: role-play. He was the client who had bought her for the weekend. She was the desperate mother who would do anything to keep the account. He made her thank him for using her. He made her ask permission to come. He made her call him sir and then, when she was shaking, he made her call him son again.
He took her ass twice more that day. The second time he did it while she was on her back with her knees by her ears, watching his monster cock disappear into her. He talked the whole time.
“Look at that. Look how it stretches you. You were made for this. All those years you were my mom and you were just waiting to be my slut.”
She came so hard she cried.
That night he let her sleep with his cock in her mouth, half-hard, a reminder.
Morning of the conference she woke to him already behind her, sliding into her used hole. He fucked her lazy and deep while the alarm clock blinked 6:14. He came inside her and told her to keep it in. She sat through the 9 a.m. session with his cum leaking into the panties he had chosen for her.
At lunch he texted her from two tables away.
Go to the bathroom. Take them off. Bring them to me.
She did. He put them in his pocket and smiled at the vice president like nothing was happening.
That afternoon in the suite he bent her over the back of the couch and took her ass again, one hand over her mouth because she couldn’t stay quiet anymore. He told her he loved her. He told her she was his. He told her when they got home the guest room was getting locked and she was sleeping in his bed from now on.
She believed him.
He finished in her mouth this time, holding her hair, watching her swallow. Then he pulled her up and kissed her with the taste of himself still on her tongue.
“Good mommy,” he whispered.
Suzy rested her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes. The conference badge was still clipped to her blouse on the floor. Her hole throbbed. Her heart was doing something it hadn’t done in years.
She was his.
He already knew.
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