New! Good Morning, Mother

taboo erotica / 18+ / adults only

The main thing I wanted to explore was the scenario of the adult son casually walking naked to the kitchen early in the morning for sexual favors — slightly out of his mind — while mom is in the kitchen prepping breakfast, and they have to hurry because dad is still asleep in the bedroom. That, and stuff happening around the dining table during a family breakfast.

But how do you make that happen realistically? My favorite two ways are money and research. This story has both.

There’s still much to explore with the kitchen and dining table scenario, but this, I think, does an excellent job. I think it’s one of the best mom/son stories I’ve made in a while.

It’s reminiscent of one of my favorite taboo stories, “With Mom’s Help” by hammertime… look it up on Literotica. That story became the blueprint of how I do mom/son stories. A gradual, believable progression on mom’s side, with reluctance and necessity along the way.

hope you enjoy,

heyall

— likes & comments help boost this story

Prologue: The Scientist

I’m meeting a colleague for breakfast across the street from the research facility. A small cafe. Unassuming. He helps double-check my process. Talking calmly over coffee and pastries helps put everything into proper perspective. We both have a cheese Danish and sit by the corner.

After the usual small talk, I pull a folder from my work bag and place it on the table in front of him. He looks through it.

“Meet the Williams family,” I say. “The mother actually works for us.”

“Oh? What department?”

“Medical. It’s perfect. She can help administer the research on our behalf.”

“Who’s the main subject?”

“Their son. 19. Physically fit. Perfect candidate.”

“Do they have any idea what might happen? You know, the side effects.”

“No.”

“Don’t you think you should tell them?” he asks.

“Who cares. National security is more important.”

That catches him off-guard, then he laughs.

“You’re one cold bitch. One of these days, that’s going to catch up to you.”

“They’re being paid handsomely. The husband racked up debt in the stock market. Blame him. With this, they’ll be made whole again, financially speaking.”

“Yeah, they could also be screwed.”

“That’s what the money is for.”

As always, my friend is correct. The family may experience some difficulties. But I meant what I said: Country first, they’ll be paid handsomely.

Week 1: The Debt

While her husband is using the bathroom before bed, Grace goes down the hall towards Ryan’s room. She’s wearing a small white gown and her hair is loose. Thick framed glasses, as she always wears, and she’s barefoot. The outfit isn’t meant to entice, it’s a coincidence.

The knock on the door is soft and Grace enters the bedroom while Ryan is playing video games. She stands in front of him, aware of how the nightgown must look. She rarely goes around the house in such little clothes.

“We don’t have to do this. There are other ways to make money.”

“Did something change?” he asks. “Suddenly you’re nervous.”

“Just my intuition. The more I think about it, the more uneasy I get.”

“The money is worth it. Seems kind of fun, too.”

Grace lifts an eyebrow. “How do you know it’s fun? You’re literally their first test subject. Who knows what can go wrong.”

“They’ve tested it on lots of people.”

“But you’re the first home-test.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” he says. “Come on. These are the best scientists in the world. Isn’t that what you kept telling me?”

Grace stops in her tracks because that part is true. She’d been constantly telling Ryan how great these researchers are, because she works there, and because they have the credentials to back it up. There’s a reason they get the biggest contracts when it comes to national defense.

They say money is the root of most marriage problems and things haven’t been the same since her husband took big losses. Grace never understood the stock market, she never even tried, but for years her husband traded on the side, usually making profits, until one bad investment recently wiped out their savings. Something about using ‘options’ and being liquidated.

A solution came to them. “The Compliance Protocol”

She’d been called by the boss for a private meeting and the importance was explained to her. How an experimental serum could be given to elite military units to make them… enhanced. Things involving discipline and testosterone and controlled aggression.

The company wanted someone in-house, and because Grace worked in the medical section, and her son was a healthy young adult, they determined their family was a perfect candidate.

None of that interested her until they mentioned the price: $100,000

A beautiful flat fee. The timing of this financial opportunity was so coincidental that she wondered if the government had been spying on her, knowing she was having arguments with her husband at home over their retirement savings being liquidated in the stock market.

Grace snaps out of the trance.

“You’re right,” she says. “Sleep well. We have a big day tomorrow.”

She gives Ryan a kiss on the forehead and closes the door, going back to her bedroom where her husband has already gotten into bed. There’s a nervous tension in the air, a kind of excitement, knowing their lives will change for the next few weeks. By how much? No one can be sure.

“What was that about?” the husband asks.

“Oh, nothing. Making sure Ryan is all set for tomorrow.”

Generally she’s always been a truthful wife to her husband. Being honest has always been a sticking point for her, in family, relationships, and work. Break that trust and she’ll never forgive. The fact is, she lied to her husband because she was having second thoughts and didn’t want another argument over their finances.

To make up for telling the lie, Grace removes her glasses and places them on the bedside counter, then while the bedroom lights are still on, she pulls her nightgown overhead, getting naked. A late night surprise. At their age, sex has become something that’s scheduled or negotiated, rarely as a random gift.

Grace turns off the lights and crawls under the blanket, bringing her head down.

xxx

Her work schedule is flexible now because this research is top priority. The company wants her staying at home more so she can keep a watchful eye on Ryan and help administer the experiment. It’s late morning and only Grace and Ryan are home, while the husband is at work crunching numbers as an accountant.

On the dining room table the vial is waiting for them. They’re relying on Grace’s medical expertise to get things done. She looks at the clear liquid. Thinks to herself. It’s already past the point of no return. They’re dealing with the federal government, after all.

“Are you ready?” she asks.

“Let’s do it.”

She uses an alcohol swab on Ryan’s arm. Fills the syringe. Then injects.

“Might be the easiest job we’ll ever have,” she says.

“That’s for sure.”

“Nervous?”

“That amount is nothing. You’ll need to triple that dosage to get me nervous.”

“Brave young man.”

He laughs. “They’re your co-workers. Why? Are you nervous?”

“Always question what the government wants to inject in your body.”

Grace bends down to kiss his ear. Her assigned role is being the ‘on-site monitor,’ which makes her responsible for every diagnostic device in the house And she’s tasked with keeping accurate records. Saliva kits. Cortisol and free-testosterone spot checks. Anything to keep a detailed track of Ryan’s health.

Week 2: The Kitchen

Monday she’s called into the office. All she knows is that it’s about the research and things are pushing ahead. Because she’s meeting with upper-management and not doing any of her traditional medical duties, she wears something on the professional side, a blazer with dress pants. Something corporate looking, with her thick-framed glasses and her hair tied in a bun.

She smiles as she’s invited to sit at the end of the conference table.

Dr. Patel is one of the leading researchers, with streaks of white in his hair and beard, a scrawny frame, and he stands in front of a screen for a power point presentation. So far, everything he’s saying is standard protocol. Toward the end of the presentation, Dr. Patel’s expression changes.

“We’re seeing something different with another subject,” he says. “Free-testosterone is unusually high. In simple terms, morning erections. Spontaneous, longer duration, about three to four times per morning. Health wise, it’s nothing to worry about. Ryan’s home logs are starting to show the same patterns emerging.”

The only person in the conference room startled by this is Grace, no one else seems bothered. Erections? The word hadn’t been mentioned a single time during the months of briefings and negotiations. So why now? After a week of daily injections. After crossing the point of no return.

“You never mentioned this before we started,” she says.

“An unexpected side-effect.”

“Now what? Does he just deal with it?”

Dr. Patel stays calm while gazing at her. “We need clean data. If the erections build without release, it can screw with his stress levels and skew the main result. You’re the on-site monitor. That means helping him manage when it gets too frequent.”

“You’re being vague. Speak to me like a professional.”

“Give him hand stimulation if necessary. Clinical, discreet, no emotional attachment. We’re all bound by the same confidentiality agreements.”

“This is… I just… I wasn’t expecting this. You’re asking me to give my son a fucking handjob. That’s what you want, right?”

“As a parent, I sympathize. But as discussed, it’s harmless, no one will know.”

“Is it too late to back out?”

“You can end this anytime,” Dr. Patel says. “You’ll also forfeit the entire lump sum of money. Leaving the research would also have a negative impact on your employment here.”

She freezes. Then pretends to smile.

As the old saying goes: ‘If something is too good to be true…’

The initial offer of $100,000 as it turns out, was too good to be true, and now she’ll be paying the price as a mother. Before leaving the conference room, Grace is given a folder explaining hand techniques and ways to collect sperm samples. The management acts like Grace should be thankful for all the money they’re giving her.

It’s late night when Grace summons the courage to tell her husband. She gets to bed last, takes off her glasses, turns off the lights, then slips under the blanket. She cuddles with him under the moonlight. Kissing him on the mouth and holding him tight.

She explains everything.

“A handjob?” the husband asks.

“That’s what they expect. Totally unnecessary. I don’t know what they were thinking asking for something like that.”

“But they actually said that during the meeting? Out loud?”

“They called it hand technique, making it sound formal.”

“Jesus. And the money?”

“Gone if we pull out,” she says.

“Are you thinking about… you know…”

“No! Have you lost your mind? Ryan can handle that alone.”

He laughs. “That was only a joke.”

“It’s not funny.”

“What? Ryan getting a handjob from you would change his life.”

“Is that so?”

The husband reaches under the blanket to massage Grace’s breasts.

“Are you saying you’ve never fantasized about that?” he asks.

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

Her right nipple is pinched through the thin gown.

“Well, have you?” he asks.

“At least have the balls to say it.”

“Ever fantasize about jerking Ryan before? I’m sure it crossed your mind when this experiment was first discussed. All that talk of testosterone.”

“No, actually, the only thing on my mind was our life savings. How it disappeared in the stock market. That’s what I was thinking. Not my son’s cock.”

The husband pulls his hand away.

“I was trying to lighten the mood.”

Grace sucks in a breath. “I apologize. That was harsh.”

“Everything I did was for our family. For years I’ve made profits in the market.”

“I know.”

“We should leave this experiment. Seriously. It’s not worth the money if it makes you so uncomfortable. I’m sorry for joking about it. I’m sorry for putting us in this position. We can rebuild our savings.”

“$100,000 is a blessing.”

“So you want to continue?”

“We should proceed as planned,” she says. “Ryan will keep taking the serum. And I’ll administer it. The handjob stuff, forget it. He’ll do that himself. Everything else should be exactly the same.”

“Exactly the same?”

Grace pulls her husband’s hand back to her breast. He squeezes and a nipple turns erect. The mood between them shifts, like they’re back on the same page as a couple.

“Yes, exactly the same.”

While laying in bed, she pulls off the gown to get naked. They tongue kiss. She pulls the blanket off her husband and pulls his bottom down. The bastard is already erect. All that talk of handjobs with Ryan must have gotten him hard at some point. No wonder he was giddy since hearing about the details of today’s meeting. It’s a taboo many men enjoy these days, apparently, according to all modern studies.

She climbs on top of her husband. The moonlight illuminating her nude figure and erect nipples. It’s different tonight. Her husband squeezes her hips harder, fucks her harder, something is on his mind. Whatever the case, Grace is being pounded in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. She cums fast. Her pussy fills.

“Boundaries might be crossed,” she says. “You know what I mean. I don’t plan on jacking him off or whatever, but ethical lines might get blurred.”

“This is all my fault. I appreciate you for doing this.”

“You like it.”

“Look at the mess I’ve made inside you.”

Afterward she walks naked to the bathroom to clean herself. Her husband hadn’t filled her like that since their wedding night. And that was over two decades ago.

xxx

The next morning Grace wakes up early and prepares a family breakfast. It’s 7 a.m. on a Saturday and they always have some combination of pancakes or homemade waffles together. Needing that sense of normalcy in her life, she wakes up earlier than usual. The stress is a constant presence. Prepping food early helps keep her mind off the wrong things.

Grace stands in the kitchen wearing a thin robe over her small gown. No bra or panties underneath. The chill of the morning kitchen lingers on her skin, nipples protruding, and bare feet on the cold tile floor. Her hair is a mess from the rough sex last night. She cracks eggs into a bowl with milk, whisking it with flour.

As she slices fresh strawberries, footsteps approach the kitchen.

Ryan is groggy from the early morning hour, eyes barely open, and he’s totally nude. What’s more startling is the raging hard erection between his legs. Pointed forward, stiff as a board, ready for action, though he’s still half-asleep. No hesitation for the exposed cock, no shame. The young man walks naked like he’s entitled to do so. He leans against the doorway, arms crossed.

Putting the knife down, Grace steps away from the counter. She’d never seen him nude like this before, much less erect. Common sense tells her that this isn’t Ryan -- at least not the Ryan she knows and loves-- it’s someone else. The effects of the serum are devastating. And the people at the lab owe Grace a massive apology for this.

“What are you doing?” she asks. “Your father might see this.”

“He’s still sleeping.”

“What do you want?”

“Can you suck it?” he asks. “Then I’ll go back to bed.”

This isn’t her Ryan. It’s someone else.

His voice remains groggy and his eyes are only halfway open.

“Your father…”

“Hurry and I’ll be gone.”

She’s guided to her knees by Ryan’s strong hands. Grace’s bare knees have never touched the kitchen floor. In all their years of living here, the family home, she never gave oral to her husband here. They’ve never had that kind of sexual relationship. Marital sex has always been vanilla, bland, the kind intellectual people have.

But this isn’t for her marriage…

The hard cock is pointed at her face. It’s bigger than the father’s. Much bigger. And it’s swollen, unlike anything she’s ever seen in person, including in what little porn she’s watched in her life. This must be the serum, yes, that’s it, the serum.

“I… I shouldn’t,” she says.

“Make it fast. Then I’ll go. Open up.”

Her head is pulled forward and Grace takes it into her mouth. So hard, warm and thick. Her lips stretch. The taste hits right away, salty skin, faint musk, the sheer size makes her jaw strain, especially at this hour when she’s just woken up. It’s a jolt to her nervous system. She works fast, bobbing her head, swirling her tongue, hands stroking the shaft.

She’s frantic about this, cheeks hollowed, desperate to finish before another pair of footsteps come down the hallway. If her husband sees this their marriage might be over.

“Gonna cum,” he says. “Take it all.”

She makes a whimpering sound while sucking, then the cock pulses, flooding her mouth with thick, hot spurts of cum. It’s loaded. Some escape the corner of her lips, dripping onto her chin and fingers. The bitter-salty taste coats her tongue.

When he finally pulls out, a thick string of cum connects her lower lips to the softening cock before it breaks. Ryan steps back, satisfied, then turns to walk away.

“Thanks mom,” he says. “I’m going back to bed.”

Ryan walks away, comfortable in his nudity, like nothing ever happened.

Thinking fast, Grace opens a drawer and searches for a plastic bag. She doesn’t swallow. She holds the remainder of cum in her mouth. When she finds a small bag and opens it, she spits the cum inside. Looking at it makes her stomach churn. It tastes like her husband’s but this represents something different.

She brushes her teeth for the second time that morning. Her husband is still in bed. Grace looks at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She gets naked. Brushes her hair. Then wears something presentable for family time. A thin sweater and pants. She goes barefoot back to the kitchen after her husband wakes.

An hour later, the fruits are sliced and the Belgian waffles are done to perfection. She fixes the table, complete with butter and syrup. The aroma brings her husband down, they kiss each other. Ryan comes down next, thankfully, dressed in a tshirt and shorts like he normally wears. Everyone devours the food except her.

x

After breakfast, Grace cleans the dishes and then goes to the fridge. On the lower shelf is the bag of cum she’d hidden. As a devoted wife, she’s always been honest with her husband, which is why there’s such hesitation about hiding a bag of Ryan’s bodily fluids in the fridge. She holds the bag, thinks to herself.

Footsteps come around and Ryan stands near her. Fully dressed and of sound mind. It’s like the demanding young man from early this morning never existed.

Grace puts the bag of cum back inside the drawer and closes the fridge.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says. “Honestly, I don’t know what came over me.”

“But you were aware the whole time, right?”

“Yeah, kind of, sorry.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I wasn’t thinking properly. It’s hard to explain. Everything feels ten times stronger and I kind of lost control. Are you mad at me?”

“No. I’m upset, but I’m not angry with you. I understand the serum is doing things, biologically speaking. The lab warned there’d be side effects, I didn’t expect it to hit this fast or this strong.”

“Thanks for understanding. I’ll try to control myself.”

“We have to be clear. That can never happen between us again, okay?”

“Yes, for sure. It was gross. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Sure it is,” he says. “I should have handled that myself.”

Grace takes a slow breath, trying to keep the conversation practical and mature.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. The lab expects me to help with the ‘relief’ part. But you can’t grab me for oral anytime you want. That’s not fair to anyone.

She continues, “The deal is this: You come to me when you really need it. And I mean, really need it. Ask politely, like an adult. No grabbing, no ordering me around. We do it privately, away from your father. I’ll help you finish if necessary, but it stays clinical. Quick, quiet, clean, and then we go back to normal. No weird comments after. Deal?”

“That sounds reasonable, thank you. Thanks for not hating me.”

“I could never hate you. It’s an unfortunate circumstance we’re all dealing with.”

What she means to say, of course, is that it’s the father’s fault. But she wouldn’t throw her husband under the bus like that, as much as she wants to.

“Is dad going to know?”

“That’s complicated,” she says. “For now, this stays between us.”

x

Sunday morning brings steady rain which keeps everyone indoors. The husband is sitting on the couch watching the World Cup pre-game, but the rhythmic sound of rain drops outside makes him doze off for a nap. He’d been up late attending a party last night as well.

Grace moves around quietly, trying not to disturb her husband. She’s wearing a thin grey sweater and loose pants, her thick-framed glasses perched on her nose as she prepares breakfast. Yesterday was mostly carbs, today’s fixated on protein. Soft scrambled eggs with sausages and bacon and potatoes.

When the food is about done and she’s slicing fruit, Ryan comes to the kitchen, thankfully dressed, but there’s an obvious bulge in his shorts. No attempt to cover it.

She’s about to snap at him, but remembers the deal.

“Is this something you need?” she asks.

“Can’t be late for the serum. Breakfast smells great.”

Grace looks at her son like he’s gone insane. He’s checking out the breakfast, which still has steam rising, while he’s sporting a massive erection like it’s no issue. But it does make sense. The levels of free testosterone in the morning plays tricks on Ryan’s mind. Like he can’t think straight. After he ejaculates, whenever that may be, his sense of shame returns.

“Yes, right,” she says. “Let’s be quiet and fast. Your father is asleep.”

The equipment is kept on the side of the dining table. They chose that spot because the outside view makes the injections more calming. Why increase the stress? Ryan sits and Grace does all the work. Her glasses tilt downward so she can get a good look. She injects the serum then takes proper measurements, recording all the information in the logbook like protocol demands.

All the while, the husband is sleeping on the couch while weekend sports is playing.

“Can you suck it for a minute?” Ryan asks.

“Keep your voice down. Your father is literally right there.”

“Dad doesn’t know?”

“Not every detail, but we’ve agreed to a special arrangement.”

“I understand,” he says. “So are you able to help?”

“Let’s go to your room. I can only assist. You have to do the heavy work.”

“But I can barely move my legs.”

Ryan pulls the front of his shorts down. A hard cock throbs, pointed straight at the ceiling. The head is even more bulbous and swollen than yesterday.

“My god.”

“Told you,” he says. “Can you take care of it? It hurts.”

“Keep quiet. Don’t move. Not a sound.”

“Got it.”

She glances once more at her sleeping husband in the living room, then reaches down with her right hand. She wraps her fingers around the thick, heated shaft, feeling it pulse against her palm. She starts stroking, slow at first, then picks up the pace, finds a nice rhythm, her thumb gliding over the swollen and shiny head of the cock.

Grace keeps pumping faster, focused and clinical, until Ryan tenses. He lets out a suppressed groan, but he struggles to reach climax, his body jittery during this handjob.

“Can you suck it a little?” he asks. “Please?”

“Why do you need that? Isn’t my hand enough?”

“Your mouth feels so much better. Like yesterday, remember how fast that was?”

A great point. The husband could wake at any second.

Grace kneels on the carpet, her thick-framed glasses slipping down her nose as she looks up at him. She sees the pre-cum on the tip of Ryan’s dick. Much like how the father leaks. Does it taste the same? She opens her mouth and leans in, taking Ryan inside, her lips stretched around the thick head while she strokes the shaft.

She works efficiently, sucking with wet, quiet sounds, her tongue swirling around the head, which is every bit as smooth and swollen as it looks, and she cups under the balls. She keeps the rhythm going, fast and controlled, cheeks hollowing as she bobs her head, desperate to finish before her husband wakes.

“I’m gonna cum.”

She doesn’t stop. She keeps going, taking it deeper in her mouth, sucking harder until Ryan pulses. Thick ropes of cum flood her mouth in heavy spurts. She’d already texted the researchers yesterday and they confirmed that having cum mixed with her saliva is fine. Nothing will be tainted. So she holds the cum in her mouth, then rushes to the kitchen and spits inside a plastic bag. Then puts it in the fridge.

After rinsing her mouth in the kitchen sink, she hears her husband stirring on the living room couch and he goes toward the dining table.

“Something smells good,” the husband says.

“That’s because I just made sausage,” she replies. “Now let’s eat.”

Everyone sits at the table. Aside from the sexual acts, it’s like any ordinary Sunday morning. Grace serves the food and everyone enjoys it. Except this time, the taste of Ryan’s cum lingers on her tongue. It’s not a taste a mother can easily forget.

xxx

Monday morning the house is quiet. Grace’s husband has already left for work, kissing her goodbye at the door like any normal day. Now it’s just her and Ryan, and how things have been going, anything is possible. And that’s become the unnerving part in all of this.

In anticipation of this morning’s serum injection, she’s already keeping her outfit much lighter than what she typically wears during this hour. A thin robe over the small white gown she slept in. Her thick-framed glasses, as always, and she’s barefoot.

As she’s prepping the serum, Ryan steps into the living room completely nude. No shame, no sense of wrongness. Totally erect. His hard dick is a guiding force. The morning sunlight shines across his body, highlighting the contours of his body and making the erection look even bigger.

“I need something more today,” he says.

She gulps. “We have a deal. Ask nicely, no demands.”

“My balls are aching. The serum is making everything feel too intense. I tried handling it but I couldn’t cum. Please. I need to fuck. Just this once. Please.”

Grace stares at him like she’s staring into the abyss. Did he really just say that? Fuck? He wants to fuck? She takes a moment to compose herself. This is yet another side-effect of the drug. The maternal part of her, however, is screaming that this direction is far more dangerous than stroking or sucking. Having sex would cross into an even more forbidden area.

The lab is fully aware of everything that’s been going on between them. Text messages and private phone calls had been exchanged. What it came down to was, full sexual release is acceptable, even encouraged, if manual methods become insufficient to keep hormone levels stable. And that’s what this is about, what it’s always been about, hormone levels.

In exchange for these added services at home, Grace was promised ‘bonuses’ along with extra ‘career advancement opportunities,’ to sweeten the agreement.

She lets out a slow breath. “How necessary is it?”

“I’ll explode if I get another dose of serum without taking care of this first.”

Grace moves her lips, attempting to say something, perhaps getting ready to reject him and end this experiment once and for all. The smart decision. But everyone has a price and this is hers. The sacrifice is necessary to help their family stay financially secure, now and in the future.

“This stays clinical,” she says. “No kissing, no dirty talk. Thrust until you finish, then we’re done for the day. Is that understood?”

“Yes, of course.”

She reaches beneath her gown and slides her panties off, placing it on the dining table, the place where their family has shared meals and memories over many years. It’s like a desecration of sacred family space.

Then she sits on the edge of the dining table, moving around, finding the right spot, figuring out if she should lay flat on her back, or just sit on the edge. Feet up or feet down? Based on her indecision, she’s never done this before, not for her husband, not for anyone -- except for Ryan now.

She settles on sitting upright on the table with her legs spread and her feet on the edge. At least it gives her some semblance of control. The couch would be too comfortable. The bed would be too intimate, especially her marital bed. The floor lacks hygiene and she’s always been strict about cleanliness, even during sex. Laying flat on the dining table would give away too much power.

Her glasses remain in place, she’s watching him with a calm but serious expression, which is in stark contrast to her pussy being wet and wide open.

Ryan doesn’t hesitate and gets between her legs. In one slow thrust, he’s inside and Grace lets out a sharp breath from being stretched. The cock has a similar shape as her husband’s, same curve, hitting her g-spot the same way, but the main difference is the stiffness of the erection. No ordinary man could get hard like this. It’s like a rock. This is entirely the byproduct of the drug.

As carnal as the moment is, both make as little sound as possible. At least they try keeping it down. Ryan groans softly as instructed, keeping a steady rhythm with thrusts, and Grace squeezes the edge of the dining table while fighting off her moans. She doesn’t even wrap her arms or legs around him, the way she would with her husband. That type of intimacy is reserved for her marriage.

The pace goes harder, hips slapping together. The table shakes. Breathing turns ragged.

“I’m close,” he says.

She nods. “Go ahead. Finish inside me.”

Ryan thrusts a few more times, then buries himself deep and cums hard, groaning through clenched teeth as he fills mother’s pussy. Both of them shiver and tremble, both of them hitting an intense climax, feeling each other’s body heat and warm breath.

She pushes him away and then gets a plastic bag, standing there in the kitchen, crouched down, letting the cum drip so she can catch it. She doesn’t face her son. No need to keep showing her pussy when it isn’t necessary. When enough cum has leaked into the bag, she seals it, then wipes her pussy with a large sheet of paper towel.

After washing her hands with soap she returns to the serum. She doesn’t look Ryan in the eyes. Too shameful. He’s still naked with a flaccid cock. The young man sits and she administers today’s dosage and routine testing. Grace’s pussy still buzzes when she starts using the diagnostic devices.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says. “I know I keep apologizing, but I can think normally now. A few minutes ago… it was so weird… I barely knew what was going on.”

“Let me worry about these problems. And to be honest, I kind of liked it.”

“You did?”

“I had an orgasm, same as you. A hard one. The truth is… I haven’t been fucked like that in… well… I’ve never been fucked like that. Not even by your father.”

“Will you ever tell dad?”

“Eventually, when this is over. I get the impression he’ll love hearing about this.”

Week 3: The Pussy Licking

The following week Grace is in the conference room, a nice blazer and professional top with those thick-framed glasses, except she’s naked from the waist down, pussy showing, and she’s even barefoot. Some of her bosses are here, two lead researchers, and two nurses. The nurses are taking swabs of fluids between her legs.

Grace has never blushed so hard in her life.

“How has the subject been responding?” Dr. Patel asks.

By this point the lab knows everything and they’d already gone over a series of questions about the procedures. The current question from Dr. Patel is aimed at something else, which makes Grace tense and blush even further, turning her cheeks into a different shade of red.

“The erections are more frequent and stronger. Manual relief is no longer enough. Every morning I have to suck or provide sex. Sometimes I have to suck at night. This morning I had to… as you can see… provide full intercourse to bring Ryan’s levels down.”

Dr. Patel nods. “We need to check something. The serum appears to be altering the composition of Ryan’s seminal fluids. The taste, pH, and viscosity. But we also think it’s doing something to your DNA as well, since you’ve been ingesting it.”

“What exactly do you need?”

Lena, the nurse, chimes in. “I need to taste you, Mrs. Williams, to see if the serum has changed the flavor or chemical signature of your vaginal fluids. It’s the fastest way for us to gather data without waiting for a lab assessment.”

“How would you be able to notice a difference? Has a test been run on my vaginal fluids before?”

Lena nods. “I’ve tasted your vaginal fluids after each health inspection. I licked my fingers.”

“Oh…”

“It will only take a minute. Can you lay on the conference table, please? It seems you’re familiar with being on your back on different tables.”

The comment makes Grace wince.

“Sure.”

She unbuttons her blazer for more comfort, then sits on the conference table before laying back. The dream of any employee is to be invited into this conference room. Only she, it seems, has the privilege of sitting bare-assed and spread. She stares at the ceiling. Surely anything is better than looking at the people in the room, who are no doubt lusting after her.

The nurse gets between Grace’s legs. The nurse’s breathing makes Grace’s trimmed pubic hairs stand. But it’s the first lick which makes Grace’s toes curl. The nurse is thorough, with slow clinical tongue strokes that start around the crotch and then move to the folds and dip inside. The nurse is especially focused on around the entrance and insides where Ryan’s cock had been thrusting an hour earlier, with the cum stains still present.

Grace bites her lower lip while staring at the ceiling, trying to stay detached from the humiliation. Her thick-framed glasses slip slightly. Lena’s tongue circles around the clit, pressing deeper, tasting carefully.

Dr. Patel breaks the awkward silence. “While the sample is being collected by Lena, tell me about this morning’s intercourse. How did it go? Any changes?”

While the tongue works her pussy, Grace composes herself, thinking for an honest answer.

“The dominance,” she says. “I’m being claimed in my own bed. The marital bed I share with my husband. I’ve never had an affair before. That’s where Ryan likes to fuck me. He requests it. He likes claiming his father’s space. He likes dominating when he’s in the mood… oh god…. Isn’t that what you want for your program? A man who dominates? God…I’m going to cum… Ryan has been fucking me hard every morning when his testosterone is the highest. He cums like a rocket ship inside me… oh god… I’m going to cum…”

Lena’s tongue focuses on the task, flicking rapidly over the swollen clit while two fingers slide deep inside Grace’s pussy. The combination is overwhelming.

Grace’s back arches off the conference table and a helpless scream escapes her lips as she has the second major orgasm of the morning. Her thighs tremble, toes curling in the air, the thick-framed glasses become crooked as the pleasure rips through her body. She cums hard on Lena’s tongue, hips jerking until she goes limp.

She becomes silent and her arms fall to the side.

Lena pulls her mouth away, steps back and wipes her lips, nodding to Dr. Patel.

“There’s a difference,” Lena says. “Slightly more metallic. The serum has an effect on Grace Williams and I can taste the change clearly.”

Dr. Patel nods. “Excellent data collection. We’ll maintain the current dosage. You’re doing important work, Mrs. Williams, this country owes you a debt of gratitude.”

Still reeling from the shame and pleasure, Grace doesn’t answer, she lays flat on her back and breathes, staring at the ceiling. Arms and legs outstretched. Her life will never be the same. This morning her pussy leaked with Ryan’s cum. Now it’s leaking for a different reason. And it’ll keep leaking for the foreseeable future.

The End

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