My heart raced as I caught a glimpse of my son in the bathroom, his hand moving up and down his hardened shaft. The sight both shocked and excited me, and I couldn’t resist the urge to guide him through this taboo act.
Leaning against the doorway, I let my eyes wander over his body, taking in every detail. “Baby, let me help you,” I whispered seductively, my voice filled with a mix of maternal concern and sinful desire.
I stepped closer, my gaze fixated on his throbbing member. “Keep stroking for me, just like that,” I commanded, my voice filled with newfound authority. “Let me be your guiding voice, your beacon of pleasure.”
As he pumped away, I began giving him explicit instructions, my voice dripping with a potent combination of lust and maternal care. “Faster, my love,” I urged, my eyes locked on his every movement. “Let the pleasure build within you, feel it coursing through your veins.”
I described each stroke in vivid detail, encouraging him to explore his own body. “Wrap your hand tighter around your shaft, my darling,” I whispered, my voice husky with desire. “Imagine it’s my hand, guiding you to the pinnacle of pleasure.”
His breath grew heavier, his moans filling the bathroom. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as I watched him succumb to the sensations I had unleashed. “You’re doing so well, my sweet boy,” I praised, my voice a delicate balance between tenderness and arousal. “Let go, give in to the pleasure that’s been building inside you.”
As his climax approached, my own arousal intensified. I demanded, “Cum for me, release every drop of pleasure onto me, marking me as yours.” And as he reached the peak of ecstasy, his warm release fell upon my waiting body, a symbol of our shared forbidden desires.