MOM'S ASS GAME

Howard was a dumb, scrawny 18-year-old, but he wasn’t blind. He knew what a woman looked like when she was hungry for cock. Why else would his mom come to his bedroom wearing practically nothing? Her to was a thin camisole—her huge tits practically falling out of it.  The only other thing she wore was a pair of barely-there panties
“What's up, sweetheart?” his mom Carmine asked. “Need a gaming partner?”
“Sure, mom. I only have this one gaming chair in here, but you're, um... you're welcome to sit on my lap,” he boldly offered, hoping she'd accept.
Carmine's gaze dropped to the thick ridge of his cock straining against the gray sweatpants, a blatant outline of hard, teenage flesh. A married mother of three, she knew the rules, knew every reason she should turn and walk out, or perhaps just sit on his bed. But the house was empty, silent but for the game’s tinny gunfire, and the damp heat already gathering between her own thighs decided for her. She would settle herself right onto that demanding length and let it take her luscious weight.
“Don't mind if I take you up on that offer,” the mother purred as she stepped closer, pivoting slowly to present the full, heavy curve of her ass to her son. 

The thin lace thong bisected her cheeks, a damp thread swallowed between two thick, pale mounds of flesh. The fabric vanished into the deep crease, doing nothing to hide the puffy lips beneath or the glistening wetness already soaking through. She arched her back slightly, offering him an unobstructed view of every ripe, swollen inch.
"Ready or not... here I come," Carmine sang, then dropped onto Howard’s lap like a queen claiming her throne, the full, heavy weight of her maternal buttocks mashing down on the rigid outline of his cock trapped beneath his sweatpants. 

The damp lace of her thong did nothing to cushion the impact as her cheeks spread around the thick ridge of him, swallowing it into the hot, slick crease of her flesh. 

The flimsy strap of her camisole gave way, spilling one heavy tit nearly free—the dark, thick nipple and puffy areola stark against the sheer white fabric, a hair’s breadth from slipping out entirely. 

She slung a possessive arm around his neck, her breath hot and damp in his ear as she purred, “Mmm, comfy,” and began a subtle, filthy grind of her hips.
Howard's cock, now a thick, rigid stalk of muscle, throbbed and wept against the slick heat of his mother’s ass. The swollen head of it pulsed, engorged and straining beneath her weight.
His mom played oblivious, but her control was absolute. Her hips worked with the deliberate, vulgar rhythm of a woman who knew exactly how to use her body. Each slow, filthy grind dragged his swollen cock-head higher until the raw, purple tip breached the elastic band of his sweats and found its home in the hot, slick groove of her ass.
Howard could feel the humid heat radiating from her cunt, a breath away, but Carmine kept him pinned there—his swollen, leaking crown dragging up and down the furrowed seam of her ass, grinding over the tight, clenching pucker of her asshole with every deliberate rock of her hips.
 The mother exhaled a tiny, knowing “Mmm,” right against the shell of his ear.
Her ass continued to grind back, trapping the swollen purple head of his cock so perfectly that the wet slit of his tip caught on the fluttering, clenching rim of her asshole. The tight ring stretched wide around the engorged crown for a breath before she rocked forward, dragging it free with a slick, vulgar pop.
Then she squeezed her cheeks together, milking his shaft with subtle, practiced swivels of her hips. 
“My favorite game, and you're doing so well at it so far,” Carmine purred, and they both knew she wasn't referring to the one on the screen.
The angry, plum-dark head of his cock wept a constant slick of pre-cum from its slit, the thick fluid easing the brutal, piston-like glide of his shaft as it rutted through the hot, clenching vise of her ass. Each upward thrust smeared his swollen glans against the puckered rim of her hole, the tight ring of muscle yielding for a split second before she rocked forward, dragging his length through the sweat-slicked canyon of her cheeks with a wet, filthy sound.
“I… Mom…” he whispered, teeth gritted, “I can’t…”
“Yes you can,” Carmine whispered. "Don't pretend you don't know how to take this game to the next level, hotshot."

Her hips worked in a slow, filthy circle, grinding the swollen purple head of his cock against the tight, fluttering pucker of her asshole until the engorged tip breached the resistant ring of muscle. 
"FUCK... WOW!" Howard gasped as his mom pressed her mouth to his neck, sucking and kissing the skin there while his cock began its inexorable sink, inch by thick inch, into the clenching, scorching heat of her rectum.
Howard was only barely aware of the strangled sound that burst from his own throat—a thin, punched-off yelp as Carmine’s asshole locked down, forming a pulsating collar around where the base of his shaft met his body. The slick, velvet tube of her ass gripped him like a fist, muscle rippling in maddening, relentless waves.
Her thick thighs pressed down, anchoring him to the warm vinyl gaming chair, while her hips rolled in slow, smug circles, compounding the squeeze at the very root of his cock. Each flex of Carmine’s ass felt like she was working some secret set of internal muscles, milking up and down his length from the plum-swollen head all the way to the thickly flared base.
The clamp of her asshole was so absolute he couldn’t even writhe, only jerk and shudder and snarl as the first pulse seized his shaft. His entire erection ballooned, veins corded under stretched, shining skin, and then he was just coming. No windup, no warning, just a savage, involuntary spasm that emptied his balls straight into her guts.
The root of his meat flared and throbbed, trapped in her relentless grip. He could feel the ridged ring of her sphincter dig into the underside of his cock, compressing the thick cum-vein that ran along the bottom. It was like jerking off into a slick, living fist that wanted to wring him dry.
Every inch of his dick seized up as geysers of cream shot straight into her bowels. He felt the way her asshole convulsed, each milking spasm timed with the involuntary jerk of his hips and the wet, obscene flood of cum through his shaft. 

"Damn, sweetie... that 'game blaster' of yours is firing like crazy," Carmine squealed as the clutch of her asshole fluttered along his length, swallowing every rope of his load with maternal focus.
His balls emptied with a stinging ache, slammed flat against her with each buck of his hips. Every jet of spunk met the iron-wet lock of her asshole and burst forward, the pressure so intense it made stars bloom behind his eyes. He wasn’t just shooting; it was more like the head of his cock was a fire hose, blasting thick seed into the furnace of her rectum with each wrenching pulse.
Her rectal muscles never slacked. Carmine bore down, bearing all her weight on his trembling lap, and milked every last drop of cum up his shaft. Her asshole seemed to undulate around him, massaging his length with obscene, practiced skill. He was aware, on some fuzzy, primal level, that her muscles were working in waves, rippling from the tight pucker at her rim all the way up the slick, sucking tunnel of her ass.
With every grind, the crown of his cockhead dragged slow and thick along her inner wall, the rim flaring and catching on her spasming sphincter like it was meant to lock together. He could feel the way his tip mushroomed and swelled, fattening as he dumped another shot of cum into her guts. The ring of muscle right at her hole worked his shaft, milking it with quick, fluttery clenches so ruthless they bordered on painful.
Howard exhaled as the throbbing, battered length of his cock finally slipped free from Carmine’s merciless grip. The swollen, plum-dark head dragged wetly along the gaping, trembling rim of her asshole. 
For a split second, the mother's ass-ring stayed gaped open—a molten, spongy pink bullseye marinated in his own cream. A thick white string of semen clung from her clenching ass to the angry flare of his knob, stretching out as he pulled away, sticky and obscene and impossibly long before it finally snapped and draped wetly across her parted cheeks.
With a wet, muscular shudder, Carmine forced her battered rectum to clench closed—the spongy pink oval spasming tight, forcing a jet of pearly cum to spurt out and dribble messily over the sodden, ruined scrap of her thong. 
“Thanks for letting mom hang out and play a game with you, sweetie,” Carmine said, the twin globes of her ass swaying with pride as she crossed the threshold, leaving him spent and sticky in his gaming chair.