Locked Up with My Mother, We Stopped Pretending

Marisol and Adrián were still lying on the same narrow bed, side by side. The white walls hadn’t changed, nor the constant light from the ceiling, nor the hourless silence of that place their captors used as a laboratory. Nothing outside was different. What was different was inside them.

There was no longer any cautious space between their bodies. Adrián, with his twenty-three years and a calm he didn’t even recognize in himself, ran his open hand over her hip and left it resting there, feeling the warmth of her skin. Marisol did not pull away. On the contrary, she settled against him between slow, exploratory kisses, the kind you give when you have all the time in the world and nothing left to lose.

—Your eyes —he murmured against her cheek—. I’d never seen them so clear. Like the sea at noon.

She let out a soft laugh, a gentle sound that kept vibrating in her throat.

—It’s because I’m with you —she whispered, and brought his hand to her lips to kiss his knuckles.

This is too perfect, Adrián thought, and doubt came back like a cold shadow.

—What if none of this is real? —he said aloud—. What if they’re putting fake memories in our heads, messing with us?

Marisol brushed a damp lock of hair off his forehead. Her gaze turned grave, almost painful in its honesty.

—I think that every second too —she admitted—. And if it were a dream, it would be the cruelest thing in the universe. But I swear I’d rather have this than any truth that’s out there.

For him, those words were enough. He stopped looking at her like a mother. He looked at her like a woman: the broad curve of her hips, her tits heavy with wide, dark nipples, the pale skin under that strange light, the black, thick hair between her thick thighs. A female who wanted him, and who was willing to say so without guilt.

She felt the weight of that gaze and, for the first time, liked being looked at that way. Being watched. Letting the whole world collapse outside. Here, on that bed, only the two of them existed.

Adrián kissed her again. It was not a frightened kiss or a desperate one. It was a kiss that claimed, that made room. Their tongues searched for each other, tangled, came out of one mouth and into the other in a wet rhythm that said more than any promise. He sucked her lower lip, nipped it lightly, and felt her gasp into his mouth. While they kissed, she felt him hard against her belly, insistent, his cock marking her skin like hot iron, setting the beat of what was to come.

Marisol decided to take the initiative. She broke the kiss slowly, her eyes darkened with desire, and slid her hand down the taut abdomen of her son until it closed around his cock. She gripped it firmly, with none of the old shyness, and began to stroke him from base to tip, slow, deliberate, feeling every swollen vein under her palm. With her thumb she spread the drop already beading at the glans and used it as lubricant to slide her fist better up and down. Adrián closed his eyes and surrendered to those hands that had known him since he could remember and were now discovering him in another way, touching him where no one was supposed to touch him.

—You got so big, my love —she murmured in a hoarse voice, squeezing the base—. Look how it’s throbbing.

Adrián let out a groan and arched his hips, pushing his cock against his mother’s fist. She kept going, faster now, and with her other hand she fondled his balls, weighing them, tugging lightly at the skin.

***

An idea began forming in her, wild and total. If this is the end, let it have everything. Every experience. I’m his mother, yes, but I’m also the only door he has left to pleasure. I’m going to open every one of them.

She stopped her hand. Adrián opened his eyes, a question in his look.

—There are so many things I want you to feel —she said, her voice rough—. Before… you know.

He did not answer with words. He wrapped an arm around the back of her neck and drew her into another kiss. When they parted, panting, he whispered in her ear:

—With you, everything. No limits. You’re the only universe that matters to me now.

That was all the permission she needed. Marisol moved with a grace that surprised even her, turned her body and settled on her knees over him, but reversed, an improvised sixty-nine, her wide ass and open cunt right above her son’s face. She leaned forward until she found Adrián’s cock again with her mouth. She ran her tongue the full length of it, from the balls to the tip, a slow, greedy lick, and then took it all the way down her throat, swallowing it in one gulp.

He couldn’t believe it. A few centimeters away he had the most forbidden thing in the world, real, alive, offered up. The curly black hair, the thick scent of wet cunt and skin, the fleshy lips parting glossy, the clit peeking out between the folds like a pink pearl. She was where he had come into the world from, and now she was offering herself not so he could be born, but so he could get lost.

He didn’t need instructions. He grabbed her hips with both hands, dug his fingers into her ass cheeks, and plunged his tongue between his mother’s lips without fear, without shame, like a thirsty animal finding an oasis. His flat tongue swept over every fold, went deep into the hole, came out and went back in, tasting that thick salt that was the flavor of his mother in heat. He was an explorer rushing to conquer every inch of a new territory. He pried her lips apart with his thumbs and buried his face until his nose was pressed against her ass and his mouth swallowed that drenched cunt whole.

Marisol let out a muffled laugh, a mix of surprise and indecent delight. She felt her son’s mouth voracious, inexperienced but hungry, and that drove her to the point of delirium. At the same time, she took him all the way in, setting a deep rhythm, his cock battering her palate, while her free hand massaged his balls with a skill he would never have imagined in her. She pulled his cock out whole, watched it shine with saliva, spat on the glans, and swallowed it again to the base, gag reflex and all, not stopping the sucking as if her life depended on it.

They were fitted into each other, a closed circuit of pleasure. Every moan of hers vibrated against his cock and sent shivers up to his neck. Every movement of his tongue made her contract and clamp him tighter between her thighs, smothering him in her own flesh. They fed each other.

***

Driven by curiosity, Adrián explored as much as he could with his tongue until he stumbled onto something different: a small, firm point, more sensitive than the rest. He licked it almost by accident and Marisol let out a guttural moan, a sound that came from very deep inside and escaped her with his cock still buried in her mouth. The vibration of her throat traveled straight to him.

That was the spot. The key. His mother’s clitoris. And he, with the ferocity of someone who has just discovered a secret, dedicated himself not only to licking it, but to sucking it whole, wrapping it with his lips, sucking it again and again, tracing circles with the tip of his tongue and going back to suck it hungrily, trying to wrench that sound out of her again. He dug his nails into her ass to keep her against his mouth, ate her without pause, alternating the suction with long licks that went from the clit to the hole.

It was too much for her. Her body tightened like a bow and a sweet, violent spasm ran through her from head to toe. She had to let go of his cock so she could scream, a muffled cry against his belly, spit and pre-seminal fluid dripping down her chin. Her hips moved on their own, rubbing against her son’s face, smearing him all over, wanting more of that sensation that undid her and remade her at the same time. The hot gush of her juices soaked his chin. Her legs trembled and gave way at the sides of his head, leaving him trapped underneath, breathing in her pleasure, choking on the smell of a busted female.

Adrián didn’t stop. He kept going, stubbornly, on that now swollen, hypersensitive button, sucking it with the ferocity of a newborn calf. Barely had the first wave passed when a second came, and then a third, a chain that left her drained, reduced to trembling and a continuous moan. She clung to her son’s cock like a life preserver and shoved it back to the back of her throat; that desperate, wet, filthy suction was what brought him to the point of no return.

His body arched. Convulsions shook his legs and belly, his balls tightened hard as stones, and he came in his mother’s mouth in a wild, unstoppable release. The first spurt hit the back of her throat, the second filled her palate, and then four or five more followed, thick, hot, until her mouth overflowed. Marisol received it with a nearly reverent devotion. She counted the spasms in her head, one after another, until there was nothing left. She swallowed it all slowly, savoring her son’s cum, feeling it go down dense through her throat, and did not pull away: she kept softly sucking the last drops of semen, little treasures she didn’t want to waste, running her tongue over the swollen glans until it was clean and shining.

***

After a while suspended in time, she rolled over and lay down beside him, feet near his head, both of them staring at the white ceiling, chests rising and falling in the same rhythm. The air smelled of sweat, cunt, semen, and something wild and new.

—That… that was incredible, Mom —Adrián said, his voice rough and satisfied, still with her taste stuck to his lips.

Marisol turned her head and laughed, free, without guilt, her lips swollen and glossy.

—And you learn fast —she said, eyes shining with malice—. That little spot… you got the hang of it right away. You licked it like you’d been doing it for years.

For a second he was surprised. The rawness of the phrase shook him. But then he understood: they had crossed a threshold, and on the other side the rules were different. They were no longer mother and son in the old sense. They were accomplices. Lovers locked in the same cage. And he decided to embrace it with all his strength.

—I’ll do it every day —he promised—, if that’s what you like. I’m going to eat your cunt until you don’t have the strength left to scream.

Her laugh was deeper this time. The mere image of her son between her legs every morning, his mouth glued to her cunt, made her shiver. And for him, the idea of having daily access to the center of her pleasure brought his hardness back with a promising throb. His cock grew again over his belly, marked with saliva and dried semen.

—I’m glad you agreed to do something “special” —she whispered the last word like a dirty secret—. Because my head is full of ideas. Things a decent mother shouldn’t even imagine. Whore things.

—I always wanted to do special things with you —he replied, and now that word sounded different, denser—. But now I want something more.

And before she could anticipate his speed, Adrián lunged. He was not clumsy: he was fast, deliberate, like a cat changing position. He ended up over her, knees on both sides of her head, back arched, cock hanging hard and dripping over her mouth. This time it wasn’t her offering. It was him taking. He brushed her lips with the glans, dragged it across her cheek, traced a shining line from the corner of her mouth to her chin.

***

My boy is hot as a puppy that wants everything he sees, Marisol thought, and the image made her let out a muffled laugh. She opened her mouth wide, tongue out, a silent invitation that he accepted immediately, while lowering his hips and driving his cock all the way to the back of her throat. She felt the glans bump her uvula and tears gathered in her eyes, but she did not close her mouth. On the contrary, she stuck her tongue out farther to lick his balls while he fucked her mouth. Adrián, in turn, lowered his head and went back into her, his tongue once more on her swollen clit, and she moaned instantly, the sound muffled by the flesh filling her.

Adrián began to move, in and out of her mouth by instinct, fucking it with short, rhythmic thrusts, an ancient program guiding him without anyone having taught him. Her saliva ran down his balls, thick drops falling onto Marisol’s chest. Every time he pulled his cock out, it gleamed, wrapped in a thick layer of spit, and he drove it back to the back of her throat, hearing the wet sound of his mother’s throat strangling him. And a perverse and beautiful thought struck her at once: this boy is fucking his mother’s mouth. This boy came out of the very hole where I now eat his cunt and he’s shoving his cock down my throat.

The contradiction —the man dominating her now was the same one who years ago crawled into her bed out of fear of thunderstorms— gave her such a deep pleasure it sank into her bones. It merged with the ferocious rhythm of his tongue sucking her clit and exploded again, a sudden orgasm that shook her whole body beneath him. Her thighs clamped around Adrián’s head like a vise and a hot stream soaked his chin and neck.

But in the middle of surrender she ran out of air. Adrián, lost in his own frenzy, had let his full weight drop and was blocking her breathing with his balls crushed against her nose and his cock jammed in her throat. Survival overrode desire: with a firm gesture she stopped him, pushing his hips with both hands, and he jerked upright. The cock came out of her mouth with an obscene pop, a string of spit still connecting it to her lips.

—You were choking me —she said, coughing, catching her breath, her voice irritated and amused at the same time, saliva dripping down her chin—. You almost shoved it into my lungs, animal.

Adrián’s face went red. Suddenly he was a scolded kid again, sitting on his mother’s chest with his cock rock-hard pointed at her face.

—Sorry, Mom… —he murmured, not knowing where to look.

Marisol softened her tone. She didn’t want to break the spell, only set the rules.

—You have to treat me well —she told him, stroking his thigh, then sliding her hand down to wrap around his cock again and start stroking him slowly—. Slowly, without choking me. Put it in as far as I let you. Shall we continue?

He nodded, remorseful and eager at the same time, his cock throbbing in her hand. She smiled with a teacher’s patience. I’m going to have to educate him, she thought, so he doesn’t split me in two. And with that idea, which was both warning and promise, she took him back in, mouth open, tongue out, but this time she placed one firm hand on his hip: a physical limit, a silent lesson. She let him in only so far, marking with her fingers the allowed depth. Pleasure, yes, but on her terms.

***

Adrián continued, now more measured, each thrust deep but controlled, following the rhythm she set with her hand on his hip. He had learned. He fucked her mouth slowly, giving her time to breathe between thrusts, and she rewarded him by wrapping his glans with her tongue, sucking the tip like a candy every time he pulled out. When she felt him close, a low growl rose from his chest, the sound of a man who can no longer hold back, his balls pressed against his mother’s chin, and he came a second time. She swallowed what she could, but the second spurt escaped and painted a white line down her neck. He collapsed onto her, a warm, sweaty weight, until his whole body went slack.

He turned his head and his gaze found his mother’s cunt again, still open and wet under the pale light, lips swollen, clit peeking between the pink flesh. The words came out broken.

—I love you. I never want to be apart from you.

—Neither do I, my life —she answered, with a tenderness that hurt, while wiping the semen from her chin with the back of her hand and bringing it to her mouth—. I want to spend whatever time I have left with you.

An icy stab of irony went through her. Whatever time I have left. Maybe they would never get out of there. Maybe those four walls were their whole world. The idea was terrifying and, at the same time, strangely comforting. They fell asleep like that, entangled, the smell of sex clinging to their skin, not knowing whether minutes or hours passed, because there was no sun or night there, only the impassive light of the ceiling.

***

A voice woke them, not echoing in the room, but implanted straight into their minds, an ice nail in the warmth they had built. It was cold, genderless. Their captors were watching them again.

—“Illustrative” —Marisol repeated, outraged, belatedly covering her tits with a gesture of modesty—. What the hell is illustrative about it? Isn’t locking us up enough? Now they spy on us when we…? —She couldn’t finish. The words she wanted to say felt too much like hers to profane in front of that observer.

Adrián hugged her, dragging his naked body against hers, a shell of skin and heat against the cold invasion. We’re not alone. We’re together. Her fear began to dissolve, replaced by hot anger and a strange solidarity.

—What did they want us to do? —he whispered in her ear—. Pray? If we’re going to die anyway, I’d rather die fucking you.

The logic was so brutal and so simple that she smiled, crooked, bitter, but smiled. He was right. And then Adrián spoke to the voice, with a calm that was surprising:

—Now I get it. We’re not getting out of here. We’re rats in a laboratory. Why prolong the charade?

The second voice that broke in was sharper, more cutting, like a technician mocking a user. It asked them why humans lived tied to what others thought, to fear, to guilt. Why they called someone evil for breaking a rule even if they harmed no one. Marisol tried to defend the world she knew —the marginalized, the odd, the singled out—, but the voice threw out a question that left her breathless:

—“But are they less happy?”

She stood there with her mouth open. She knew those beings could read her mind; she didn’t dare lie. Were they less happy? She, in her little apartment, with her steady job and her bills to pay, had she ever been as happy as in these last few hours, with her son’s mouth between her legs and his cum sliding down her throat? She didn’t know how to answer. She simply fell silent. And just as they had arrived, the voices left.

***

—Don’t go —Adrián asked—. We’ve been thirsty for hours. If we don’t drink, we’ll die. We want water, please.

The voice returned, curious and without a trace of empathy, and asked him what water was.

—H2O —he replied, with a flash of the intelligence that had always set him apart—. That’s its formula.

The presence vanished and a few seconds later returned with two glass tubes filled with an colorless liquid. They both sat up and drank, more out of desperation than anything else. It tasted like nothing, not even the metallic taste of bottled water. It was just wet, cold. But it was enough to soothe the burning in their throats.

When they handed back the containers, the two presences disappeared without another word. The absence was more overwhelming than their arrival, as if the whole universe had held its breath and then let it out, leaving them alone and naked in the center of nothing.

Silence filled the white space again, but it sounded different. Adrián stretched out his arm and pulled her toward him. Marisol fit against his body as if she had always belonged there, cheek against his warm chest, his heartbeat anchoring her to reality.

—I think we’ll never get out of here —she said in a thin voice—. And all of this is my fault. It was my idea to take this trip. If we’d stayed home…

She broke into tears, a convulsion of sorrow that shook her until he had to hold her tightly so she wouldn’t come apart in his arms.

—My love —he told her in her ear, steady—. If they gave us water, it’s because they still want us alive. Nobody kills you of thirst and then brings you water. Calm down.

She cut him off with old resentment:

—If it weren’t for that animal of your father’s, everything would still be fine.

Adrián pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, which had turned gray like the sky before a storm.

—Do you really think we were fine before? —he asked, without reproach, almost dissecting her—. A while ago you told me this was the biggest experience of your life. Which is the truth, Mom?

The question left her breathless. He was right.

—I was talking about your future —she finally replied, her voice rough—. You have your whole life ahead of you, and they took it from you. I’ll never forgive myself for that.

He took her face in his hands.

—My life is you —he said, each word a declaration—. And we have a life ahead of us, together. There’s nothing to regret. Can’t you see it? We discovered something beautiful.

They kissed again, no longer with the desperation of the end of the world, but slowly, deeply, a pact sealed with saliva and skin. The world outside can turn to dust, that kiss said. But this is ours.

They went back to the bed, not like two resigned prisoners, but like two lovers searching for each other in the dark. Adrián wrapped an arm around her, his chest pressed to her back, his cock again warm and half-hard tucked between his mother’s ass cheeks like a sleeping promise, and Marisol felt safe in a way she never had before: not the safety of locks or bank accounts, but of a warm body against the cold of the universe. His smell was now her home. She fell asleep with that certainty, with the weight of his leg over hers, determined that if they had to live between four walls, at least they would inhabit them together.