Chapter 54
Night.
The tropical night was thick and sticky. The air in the luxurious villa should have been filtered by the air conditioning, but I could still smell it. Salt, the frangipani in the garden, and the smell of waiting.
I lay on my back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Sleep was a luxury. My body didn’t need it. It was in the state of an animal that had just tasted blood, and it knew the main feast was still ahead. Beneath my thin trousers, my little brother, though deflated from his afternoon dose, still smoldered with a sick heat. He wasn’t sleeping. He was waiting. The instincts of a drug addict starving for drugs were never wrong.
*Creak…*
A tiny sound, a faint resistance from the door hinge, but in this silence, it was as sharp as a knife, cutting through the night. My parents’ door. My heart jumped. I held my breath. My whole body turned into a giant ear.
Footsteps. Two people. Mom’s footsteps glided across the wooden floor, light as a cat, almost soundless. Dad’s footsteps were different. They were heavy, steady, but with the slightest sway of someone drunk. Then I heard the large bathroom door in the house open slightly, followed by a click as it closed. A wet, yellowish light shone from the crack, like a tear in the velvet curtain of darkness.
*Here it is!*
My body reacted before my brain. It sprang to life without hesitation. I landed barefoot on the cool wooden floor, the chill running up my spine, but it did not extinguish the fire in my veins. I crept out of the room. My heart was no longer beating in my chest, it was pounding like a drum. It was not fear. It was pure excitement, a sweet, sinful thrill. I was an explorer entering a forbidden temple, where the most naked rituals were about to take place.
I pressed my ear to the cold, damp wooden door. I could feel the wood vibrate slightly with the sounds inside. The shower was running. And then, I heard it. My mother’s voice. A soft moan, almost drowned out by the sound of the water, but I still heard it. It wasn’t a moan of pain. It was a wet, dark sound, a lingering “mmm…” in the throat, a seductive invitation.
Hearing is not enough. The addict in me screams. It demands images. It demands to be seen.
My eyes scanned like a predator’s. And there it was. The vent. A metal mesh, high above the door. A god’s view. Perfect!
I rushed to the living room, in the darkness I grabbed the wooden stool, heavier than I thought. I picked it up, holding my breath, carefully placed it on the floor without making a sound. I climbed up. The cold metal of the mesh pressed against my face. I closed one eye, and pressed the other eye against one of the mesh holes.
The stage appears.
The steam made everything hazy like a dream. My father, Huu Thang, was sitting on the edge of the marble bathtub, his legs spread wide. He was naked. His body was that of a middle-aged man, not as toned as when he was younger, but still with rippling muscles in his shoulders and biceps. And my mother, Ngoc My, was kneeling between his legs.
But what stunned me, what made my breath catch in my chest, was Dad’s weapon. His penis. When fully erect, it was a monster. It was impressively thick and long, darker than the rest of his skin. Blue veins stood out and coiled, like little snakes slithering under the skin. Its head was red and juicy, oozing a clear liquid, sparkling in the yellow light. It not only stood straight, it curved upwards, a curve of pride and primal power. This was a real penis! No wonder Mom had confidently promised that I would be as strong as him.
My mother had also shed all her layers. She was completely naked. Her smooth, white back faced me, a perfect curve from the nape of her neck to her waist. Her long hair was tied up high, revealing her slender nape, a fatal weakness. She was doing something I had only dared to see in the most perverted of films: she was sucking my father’s cock.
She wasn’t being forced. She was an artist, absorbed in her work. She raised her head, looking at my monster with a mixture of admiration and lust. Then she slowly extended her pink tongue, licking the head of my cock, like a cat tasting a saucer of delicious milk. My father growled low in his throat, a sound of absolute satisfaction.
Then she opened her mouth and slowly took it in. Her plump red lips enveloped the large head. She took her time. She sucked it gently and skillfully. The sucking sounds “chut chut”, “lép sép” echoed in the quiet space. It was naked, it was obscene, and for me, it was the most wonderful symphony.
“Mom sucks Dad’s cock like she’s enjoying a vanilla ice cream cone,” I commented to myself, my hand already slipping into my pants, grasping my stiffening cock. “I can tell she’s enjoying it by the way she’s using her mouth, tongue, and hands, working in unison. She’s a real blowjob artist.”
Her eyes were closed, her long, curved eyelashes trembling slightly. She used both hands to hold the base of her father’s cock, then began to move her head, making her father’s cock slide in and out of her mouth smoothly. Occasionally, she would lift her head, revealing her flushed face, her lips swollen and shiny with her father’s saliva and lubricant.
“Deeper…” – I heard Dad growl, his voice hoarse with lust. – “Lick my balls too…”
My mother was like a programmed sex machine. She didn’t say a word, only made “ummm” sounds in her throat, but her actions were absolutely obedient. She lowered her head, licked my father’s hard balls with her tongue, then raised her head again, continued to take his penis deep into her throat, so deep that she coughed. But even that cough, to me, was full of eroticism.
The symphony of tongues continued. My father’s penis kept going in and out of my mother’s beautiful mouth. The sound of wet skin hitting each other, the sucking sound, and the moans of both of them mixed together, forming a song of primitive instinct.
I stood on the chair, holding on to the wall, holding my breath and watching. My cock in my pants felt like it was about to explode. I knew this was not all.
———————
The symphony of tongues temporarily ended. My mother slowly withdrew from my father’s penis. She did not show any disgust or hastily wipe her mouth. On the contrary, she stuck out her tongue and licked a circle around her swollen lips, as if to enjoy the remaining taste. Her face was red, her eyes were dreamy and wet. She looked up at my father, a look that was both submissive and provocative.
My father just sat there, his chest heaving. The stupor had vanished, replaced by a bloodshot hue of pure animalism.
Not a word. Communication was physical now. My mother stood up.
Every muscle in her thighs tensed. Her entire naked body was revealed under the yellow light. Water still flowed from her hair and skin, forming sparkling streams that snaked down her wasp waist, over the crack of her buttocks, and down her slender thighs. Each drop of water hitting the tiled floor made a small “click”, but in my ears at that moment, it echoed like the death knell of my reason.
She turned. A simple action, but to me, it was like a slow-motion movie replayed over and over again in my head. Her smooth, wet back trembled slightly as she faced the cold tiled wall, where long streaks of condensation had formed. The sound of her bare feet on the wet tile floor was “squish”, a sound so mundane yet so inviting.
And then, she put her hands against the wall. Her palms pressed against the cold tiles, creating a stark contrast to her hot skin.
A decisive action, without any hesitation. An action of absolute devotion. She proactively pushed her plump, white buttocks towards my father, and also towards me.
Through the vent, I had the most perfect view. A god’s view, if god were a perverted son peeping on his mother. My mother’s entire behind was exposed before my eyes, a masterpiece of creation, a living altar of lust.
Oh, my mother’s ass. I must use the word “anatomy” for it. It was not the flat ass of a model. It was the ass of a woman who had given birth, a woman who knew how to use her body. It was round, plump, and full like two ripe peaches. But not sagging. The skin was white and smooth, and under the light and steam it was even more translucent and sparkling. I could see every tiny pore, and a few goosebumps raised by the cold. They trembled slightly with each breath she took, a deadly, inviting vibration.
The deep ass crack, like a sweet abyss, pulled my eyes down. And there, where the ass cheeks parted, was the holy land. Close-up. Her pussy, after the “warm-up” just now, was soaked. The two large, succulent outer lips parted, revealing two smaller, pink inner lips, sparkling under the light as if coated with a layer of varnish. The clear, thick lubricant flowed from her vagina, mixed with the jet-black, curly pubic hairs that clung tightly to both sides, making it look even more mysterious and lewd. I could imagine its salty taste, its strong smell. A little above, almost hidden, was the pretty, pink asshole. It was not silent, it was contracting slightly, “winking” unconsciously, like a shy but also inviting flower bud.
Mom’s entire backside was a perfect erotic picture, an irresistible invitation to any man.
“Mom…” I whispered silently, my hands gripping the iron mesh so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The penis in my pants felt like a hot iron bar, the pain was maddening. I wanted to smash this air vent, rush in there and take my father’s place.
My father was no exception. He stood up, and in that moment, there was no trace of the man who had lost his mind. He was now a male animal in the throes of orgasm. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing was ragged like a bull’s, and his huge penis, still coated with mother’s saliva, was throbbing violently, pointed straight at the target.
He made no preamble. Instinct needs no embellishment.
He walked forward, his steps heavy and steady. He stood right behind my mother. His rough, calloused hand reached out, not to caress, but to possess. He used one hand to spread her ass cheeks apart. I could clearly see the red marks on her fair skin against his five red fingers.
The inviting pussy was now completely exposed. It was forced open, no longer holding any reserve.
His other hand grasped his own penis, the weapon my mother had sharpened, its tip already red with arousal, and pressed it straight into the center of the storm. I could clearly see the tip of his glans press against the soft flesh, causing it to retract a little.
Then he urged.
“BAM!”
A dry, thick, powerful sound echoed in my ears, in my brain. It was not the sound of lovemaking. It was the sound of penetration, of a naked stake driving.
Dad’s cock was buried deep inside mom with just one thrust.
I could feel a shockwave run down my mother’s spine. Her whole body jerked as if she had been electrocuted. Her hands were clenched tightly against the brick wall, her knuckles white, as if she were trying to tear the enamel. It wasn’t just a sharp “Ah!” that came out of her mouth, it was a choked scream, a sound of utter pain and surprise. The cold tiled wall must have brought her back to consciousness, but it was too late. The beast had entered its cage.
Soon the real symphony began. My dad started pounding the piles.
He thrusted frantically, violently, without any technique, just pure instinct. Each of his thrusts was deep and strong, causing his penis to hit my mother’s ass, creating a “bang thump” sound that echoed throughout the bathroom. The sound of wet flesh hitting each other was “slurping, sloshing”. Each time he pulled out, I saw his penis glowing red, trailing a string of clear lubricant, then thrusting back in, burying it in that hot cave. That sound mixed with my mother’s increasingly loud moans.
“Ah… ah… baby… slow down… too deep… it’s going to tear…” – Mom moaned, but her ass actively shook, coordinating rhythmically with each of Dad’s thrusts. She didn’t resist. She was enjoying it. She was inviting it.
My father bent down, growling in my mother’s ear, his voice hoarse with lust, a sentence that made me bite my lip to keep from making a sound.
“Are you happy, my bitch?”
I was stunned. My father… called my mother a “whore”? The word, in this context, sounded not like an insult, but like a compliment, a key that unlocked my mother’s deepest nature.
And her mother’s answer confirmed it. Between gasps and the sound of skin slapping, she moaned, almost screaming:
“So good! So good, baby! Fuck me! Fuck this bitch to death! Ah… ah…”
Oh my god. My mother. The respected vice principal. Now she was a real whore, screaming the most obscene things into her husband’s cock, in front of her only son. And I realized, she wasn’t just answering my father. She was making a statement. Making a statement to the world, including me, about who she really was.
My father seemed to be given new strength. He roared, his two hands tightened around my mother’s waist, lifted her up a little, then gave her another deep thrust.
“Your pussy feels so good! It sucks my cock so tight! I have to fuck your slutty pussy to pieces!”
“Yes… fuck it to pieces baby… Ah… Ah… So good…”
I stood there, motionless as a statue, only my eyes were open, taking in every detail, every sound. We were both completely immersed in a wild dance, a rhythm of the most primitive instincts. The small bathroom had become a stage, and I was the only audience to this sick and wonderful play. The rhythm was getting faster and stronger, signaling a bigger storm was about to hit.
The rhythm of pounding the stakes into the cold wall became more and more frantic. The slapping sound of flesh against flesh, the wet slapping sound, my mother’s obscene moans and my father’s growls combined into a symphony of primal lust. I stood rooted to the spot behind the air vent, my penis aching as if it were about to explode, my mind spinning between two emotions: disgust and extreme excitement.
But apparently, just hammering a stake into a single hole was not enough for that hungry beast. My father suddenly stopped.
The sudden change made my mother let out a surprised “hmm?” sound. My father pulled his penis almost all the way out, leaving only the glans stuck inside my mother’s entrance. There was a wet “slurp” sound. I saw my mother shiver, perhaps she thought the party was over.
But no. The beast was just changing its hunting stance.
My father let out a roar, not of satisfaction, but of impatience. He turned my mother around. In one powerful movement, he lifted her up. My mother instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around her husband’s neck. Immediately, my father thrust hard, forcing his cock deep into her again.
“Ah!”
My mother let out a sharp scream as my father’s cock plunged into her again, but this time in a suspended position. He was holding her. Her entire weight was now on my father’s cock, the feeling both intense and insanely stimulating.
“Dad… what are you going to do?” I stammered in my head. I felt myself trembling.
And then, the beast started moving.
My father, with my mother wrapped around him like an octopus, began to walk out of the bathroom. And he didn’t just walk. He thrust as he walked. Each heavy step was a violent thrust of his hips. “Slap… slap… Slap… slap…” The sound of his footsteps on the floor was matched by the sound of his cock thrusting into my mother’s pussy, her moans choked in her throat every time he lifted his foot.
It was an unbelievable sight. A sight of pure animalism. My mother, head thrown back, hair loose, moaning with every step her husband took. She was no longer human, she was a sex doll, hung up, impaled even as she moved.
“Ah… where… are you… going… Ah… deep… so deep…” – My mother gasped, her words breaking with each thrust.
My father didn’t answer. He just growled, his eyes still bloodshot, focused on transporting his spoils to a new arena.
I hurriedly and unsteadily climbed down, not taking the chair with me, and ran like a madman back to my room. I was afraid of losing sight of this sick circus. I followed them cautiously, my heart pounding as if it was about to jump out of my chest. When they disappeared into the bedroom, I rushed forward and pressed my eyes against the crack of the door.
My father carried my mother to the bed, then without any mercy, he threw her down.
“BOOM!”
My mother’s whole body bounced on the mattress, the old bed creaked miserably. She lay there, her limbs spread out, her hair disheveled, her breasts heaving, her swollen pussy still wet with her husband’s semen and juices.
My father didn’t rush in. He stood there, beside the bed, legs spread wide, towering over me like a mountain. He looked down at my mother, who lay panting. But his eyes didn’t reach her face, nor her inviting pussy.
His eyes were fixed on my mother’s breasts.
The new arena has opened.
My mother’s breasts, due to the impact of the throw, were shaking slightly. They were extremely full and firm. Two peaches were white and plump. Under the light of the night lamp, I could still clearly see the faint blue veins under the thin skin. The areolas were dark pink, covered with goosebumps, and the two nipples had hardened from stimulation, pointing straight up to the ceiling like two challenges.
“Your wet nurse is so beautiful.” – My father whispered, his voice hoarse.
Then he knelt down on the bed, placing his hands on either side of my mother. He didn’t push. He bent down, and his rough hands grabbed her breasts.
This is not a caress. This is a taking. A violent exploration.
He kneaded them. He squeezed them like a baker kneading dough, but with a much rougher touch. He weighed them in the palm of his hand. He rolled the nipples between his thumb and forefinger, twisted them, pulled them.
“Ah… you… it hurts…” – My mother moaned, her body arched up like a shrimp. But it was a moan of pain mixed with pleasure.
“Does it hurt?” – My father chuckled, a sick laugh. “Does it hurt that you arch up invitingly like this, whore?”
He continued to knead them, sometimes squeezing so hard that the flesh spilled out from between his fingers, and sometimes pulling them up, watching them deform in his hands. He also used his fingernails to lightly scratch around the areola, causing my mother to jump, a sharp “Ah!” escaping her mouth.
“Look,” he said proudly. “My wife’s breasts. So round and beautiful. Let me milk them.”
“Husband… is so bad… only good at tormenting his wife…” – My mother breathed heavily, half-jokingly, half-seriously, but her eyes were sparkling with an unconcealable invitation.
I stood behind the door, swallowing hard. Those breasts. I had tasted them too. But in my father’s hands, they had become a mundane toy, an instrument of pleasure. He was exploring them like a new land, and I had been the explorer of that land. A sick feeling of jealousy mixed with a twisted pride welled up inside me.
After he had his fill of exploring, my father got to work. He kept his hands on my mother’s breasts, crawled up, and once again, thrust his penis straight into the waiting pussy.
“BAM!”
My mother screamed again. But this time, my father didn’t thrust right away. He kept his cock inside me, then started a new rhythm, a technique I had never thought of.
He used his mother’s breasts as a fulcrum.
He pulled her breasts toward him. This action lifted my mother’s entire upper body off the bed, arching her back, and most importantly, it pushed her pelvis forward, changing the angle of her pussy. Then he slammed his hips down hard.
“BAM!”
“AAAA!” – My mother let out a completely different scream. It wasn’t just a moan, it was a scream of extreme pleasure as she was attacked in a spot that had never been touched before.
He pulled again, then pushed again.
Pull. Move. Pull. Move.
The rhythm was brutal and surprisingly effective. Each time he pulled on her breast, my mother’s body was stretched, forcing his cock to go deeper, rubbing more violently against her womb walls. My mother stopped moaning, she screamed, her head shaking wildly on the pillow.
“You… you’re so cruel… Ah… So good… There… That’s right… I’m dying… I’m dying… Aaaa!”
“Haha!” – My father laughed loudly, a devilish laugh. – “Found it! This is my bitch’s happy spot! Is it happy? I fucked her pussy and milked my bitch at the same time! If you’re happy, scream it out loud for me to hear!”
“So good! So good! Honey! Ah… ah… ah…”
The arena of the breasts was at its climax. My father, like a beast that had found its favorite toy, continued to torture them. With one hand he squeezed my mother’s left breast, with the other he pulled on her right breast, using her own body as leverage for his brutal thrusts. The old bed creaked pitifully, and the headboard began to hit the wall rhythmically, creating a steady “clack…clack…clack…” sound, a drumbeat for the demon’s dance.
My mother stopped moaning, she screamed. Wild, wordless screams, a mixture of pain and extreme pleasure. Her head shook wildly on the pillow, her long hair unruly, sticking to her sweaty face.
“Haha! Scream more! Scream louder!” My dad roared with glee. “I love hearing you moan like a fucked whore! I love your tits! I love your pussy!”
“Ah… ah… ah… Husband… I’m dying… I’m dying…”
I stood in the doorway, my whole body stiff. Sweat poured down my forehead, running down my temples. Part of me wanted to run away, to cover my ears at this horrifying incestuous scene . But another part, the dark and sick part, was nailed to the spot. I couldn’t look away. My hand had pulled my cock out of my pants at some point, and I was squeezing it tightly, feeling the pounding rhythm of my father’s thrusts. My fingers pressed into the wooden door, digging deep into it.
The scene before me was more than a porn movie . It was real. A raw, sick, raw truth. My father and mother, two people I respected, were now two mating animals. And I, their son, was an excited voyeur.
In that frenzy, my father gathered all his strength and gave the strongest thrust, a thunderous thrust.
“BAM!”
The thrust was so deep that I felt it go right through my mother. Her whole body arched like a boiled lobster, and her head fell back involuntarily, hitting the headboard.
And that’s when it happened.
My mother’s eyes, which had been closed or rolled back in ecstasy, suddenly flew open.
At first, they were aimless, panicked. But the momentum of the thrust sent her gaze skimming across the ceiling, across the wall, and then… it stopped. It stopped right at the crack in the door where I was hiding.
Her eyes locked on my single peeping eye.
One millionth of a second.
The symphony of sin abruptly stopped. The creaking of the bed, the slapping of flesh, my mother’s moans, my father’s growls… all of them suddenly disappeared. My ears were ringing. There was only one thing left in my universe: my mother’s eyes, staring straight at me. For a brief moment, I could even see the distorted image of my own eye reflected in her dilated, terrified pupils.
cold
A chill ran down my spine, as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water on the back of my neck. My heart stopped. My blood froze. I’d been found. I was dead. It was over. What was I to face now?
I froze, not daring to breathe, unable to open my eyes. I was like a small animal caught in the headlights of a truck, just standing there waiting for the inevitable death.
I saw her eyes widen, surprise and panic written all over them. I saw her pupils constrict as her brain registered that the figure was not a shadow, but a person. Me. Her son.
But then, in just a brief moment, a miraculous change took place. A change even more terrifying than being discovered.
The panic faded. The surprise faded. I saw in her eyes, a lightning-speed processing. And then… something else began to form. Something I couldn’t name. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t shame.
It was… a spark. A curiosity. And maybe… a little amusement? A twisted excitement.
And then, the corners of her mouth, still swollen from kisses and moans, lifted slightly. A smile. A subtle smile, almost imperceptible, but to me, it was clear as day. It was more than a smile. It was a smirk of complicity, of triumph. A smile that said, “Ah, so you like this too. Then let me show you what a real penis is supposed to do….”
BOOM!
My brain exploded. What am I seeing? Am I seeing things? My mom… is smiling at me? While getting fucked by my dad?
She didn’t scream. She didn’t push her husband away. She kept looking at me, a challenging look.
And then, she started to “act”.
Her moans suddenly grew louder, but they were no longer unconscious screams. They were rhythmic, seductive, and more wanton. She was in control.
“Ah… baby… it feels so good… Fuck me more… Fuck my slutty pussy hard…”
Who are you talking to? My dad, or me?
My father, still lost in his own world, roared with pleasure at the sudden change in his wife. He thrust even harder, completely unaware that he was just a supporting actor in the drama between mother and daughter .
And then, my mother did the unbelievable.
She slowly reached down, her soft hand resting on my father’s rough hand that was holding her hip. Then she slowly pulled his hand, guiding it down between her legs.
My dad, following her lead, used his hand to spread my mom’s legs wider. Wider. Wider than ever.
And my mother, she actively spread her legs, a conscious action, exposing her entire “holy land” before my eyes.
A brutally naked scene.
I could see it all now. A perfect view. I could see my father’s cock, red and veiny, pumping rhythmically in and out of my mother’s swollen, wet pussy. I could see her folds of flesh being pulled out and back in with each thrust. I could see the white precum oozing out, mixing with the jet-black pubic hair. I could even see my father’s testicles slapping against my mother’s ass.
My mother turned me from a voyeur into a spectator. A reluctant spectator. An invited spectator.
She kept looking at me, her eyes glistening, full of defiance, while her mouth kept moaning obscene words to her husband. A sick triangle had been formed. She was making love to her husband, but for her son to see.
And I, that sick boy, instead of feeling guilty, felt an unprecedented excitement. My blood boiled. The cock in my hand was as hard as a rock.
Our sick triangle was set. My mother, with me as an audience, was playing a role she probably didn’t even know she could play. She moaned, cursed, and shamelessly exposed herself. My father, fueled by his wife’s sudden lust, was like a raging bull, only knowing how to push and push.
But this face-to-face position was apparently not enough. The beast inside my father demanded more.
He roared, suddenly pulling his hot cock out of his mother.
“POP!”
There was a wet, hollow sound. My mother looked at him, surprised, perhaps thinking he was done. But he wasn’t. My father’s eyes were still burning, a fire that demanded more absolute obedience.
“Kneel!” he commanded, his voice hoarse, allowing no refusal.
My mother, without a second of hesitation. She was like a pre-programmed sex doll. She crawled up on the bed, then slowly put her hands and knees on the mattress. She knelt down, lifted her plump ass up, once again offering it to her husband.
But this time, it was more than in the bathroom.
My father took his time. He climbed onto the bed, towering over her. Then he used both hands, grabbing her hips, and adjusted. He pulled her hips back a little, forcing her back down. This position made her butt stick out even more, and her plump breasts, instead of being supported, now hung down, swaying with each breath.
From the crack in the door, I had a panoramic view. A porn director’s view. I could clearly see my mother’s wasp waist arching, the vertebrae protruding under her skin. I could see her breasts swinging freely beneath me, her hard nipples rubbing against the bedsheets. I could see her ass completely exposed. And most importantly, I could clearly see her swollen, wet pussy opening, invitingly.
My father knelt behind my mother, and once again, he penetrated her.
“BAM!”
This time the thrust was more forceful. My mother bent forward, her face almost pressed into the pillow. My father began a final thrust. He thrust mechanically, fast and hard. His hands no longer held her hips, but slid forward, grabbing her swaying breasts.
He pushed and kneaded. This was no longer kneading, this was marking territory.
I clearly saw his rough hands kneading my mother’s white breasts, leaving red marks on the skin. He squeezed them, rubbed the nipples, making my mother moan in her throat. The sight of a man thrusting into a woman’s pussy from behind, while reaching out to torture her own breasts, was vulgar, animalistic, and extremely stimulating.
The two bodies merged into one, creating a frantic rhythm. The sounds of skin colliding, the moans, the creaking of the bed… everything combined into a symphony of destruction. Sweat was pouring down my father’s back, and my mother was also drenched.
They were on top. I knew it. So was I. My cock felt like it was about to explode. I was just waiting for the signal, the final flare.
And then, it came.
In the midst of that madness, when all three of us were on the brink, when the air was thick with desire, my father suddenly stopped thrusting. In the midst of the storm, he leaned close to my mother’s ear. His voice was no longer a growl, but a cold, clear whisper that cut through all the noise.
“Do you want… do you want many guys to fuck you at once… Huh, my bitch?”
The whole world seemed to stop once again.
My mother, who had been thrusting frantically, suddenly stopped. Her body stiffened. She stopped moaning. In the sudden silence, she turned her head slightly, her wild eyes searching for the crack of the door.
And she saw me.
Our eyes met one last time tonight. A look of confirmation. She was asking me, not my father.
And then, as if to answer my father’s question, but also to give me a “opening word”, my mother screamed. A scream that tore through the night, tore through all the limits of incest , of sickness. A scream of liberation.
“YES! I WANT! I WANT TO BE FUCKED BY MANY GUYS! FUCK ME TO DEATH! AAAAAA!”
BOOM!
Mother’s scream was a command. A Big Bang of desire.
Immediately after that “AAAAAA” my father let out one last roar like a wounded animal. His whole body convulsed. I saw the muscles in his back tense, and he gave the deepest thrust, holding it there, his whole body rigid. He shot. He collapsed onto Mother’s back like a felled tree.
At the same time, my mother also let out a piercing scream. Her back arched impossibly, her legs stretched out, her toes curled tightly. Her whole body trembled with orgasm, then went limp, collapsing on the bed.
And I…
That opening was all I needed. The horrible, sweet truth was the world’s most powerful stimulant. I couldn’t bear it another second. Mother’s screams still echoed in my ears.
I closed my eyes, let out a silent roar, and shot.
A white light flashed behind my eyelids. My whole body convulsed. My semen sprayed into my palm, hot and thick. The last of my energy was released in a feeling of absolute emptiness.
I staggered back against the wall, gasping for air. My legs felt boneless. I opened my eyes, looked at the white mess in my hands, then back at the room.
The storm has passed.
Only ruins remain.
The silence was now terrifying, the only sound left was the panting of three people. My father struggled to get up, then collapsed beside my mother, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. My mother remained lying on her stomach, motionless.
The room reeked of battle. Sweat, body odor, and above all, the distinct fishy smell of semen. Under the nightlight, I saw a stream of milky white fluid, a mixture of both father and mother, slowly flowing out of mother’s body, wetting a patch of the bedsheet. An undeniable evidence.
I staggered back to my room, my head spinning. I collapsed on the bed, panting. I had not just seen a hot sex scene. I had just been given a “giveaway”. A permission from my father himself.