Chapter 15: Morning Worship
The hot water cascaded over them, a steady, muffling curtain that turned the spacious marble shower into a private, steam-filled grotto. Colt’s hands, slick with lavender-scented soap, slid from Lori’s hips up to her waist, his fingers splaying across her soft flesh. He moved inside her with a deep, lingering rhythm, each slow withdrawal a tease, each subsequent thrust a homecoming that made her gasp.
“Oh, baby,” Lori breathed, her forehead resting against the cool, wet tile. Her voice was a husky whisper, barely audible over the patter of water. “Waking up to you… to this… it’s the best feeling in the world. Like my body knows it’s time for its favorite thing before my mind’s even switched on.”
Colt leaned forward, his chest pressing against her wet back, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. He nipped gently, then soothed the skin with his tongue. “I love watching you sleep,” he murmured into her skin, his hips maintaining their steady, deep cadence. “So peaceful. And then I love feeling you wake up around me. That little clench… that sigh… fuck, Momma. It’s like you’re just… accepting me back where I belong.”
She pushed back against him, a slow, rolling grind of her hips that took him even deeper. The stretch was exquisite, a full, burning pressure that was already a familiar and welcome agony. “It’s where you do belong, sweetie. Right there. Stretching my ass open so good. I can still feel the last load you put in me. It’s… warming me up from the inside.”
His hands came up to cup her heavy breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples, which were hard pebbles against his palms. The soap made his touch glide effortlessly over her skin, a sensual slip and slide that had her moaning. “You take me so damn well,” he grunted, his rhythm incrementally increasing in pace. The soft, wet sounds of their coupling echoed softly in the steamy enclosure. “This tight, hot ass was made for my cock.”
“It was,” she agreed, her voice dreamy with pleasure. “Everything I have was made for you. For my boy. You feel so big, Colt. So thick. It’s like you’re remolding me from the inside out every time.” She reached one hand behind her, grasping his thigh, pulling him impossibly deeper with a desperate little sound. “Don’t ever stop.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he promised, his breath hot in her ear. One hand drifted down from her breast, over the quivering plane of her stomach, through the wet tangle of blonde curls, to where their bodies joined. His fingers found her clit, swollen and eager. The moment he touched her, a jolt of electricity shot through her, and her whole body tightened around his invading length.
“Jesus, Colt!” she cried out, her knees buckling slightly. He held her up easily, his arm cinching around her waist, never breaking the deep, penetrating rhythm of his hips or the insistent, circles his fingers were tracing on her most sensitive nub.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his voice rough with his own mounting pleasure. “Come for me, Momma. Come on my cock while I’m buried in your ass. Let me feel you lose it.”
The dual sensations were overwhelming. The deep, stretching fullness of his cock pistoning into her rear channel, and the sharp, brilliant friction on her clit. It was too much, and it was everything. Her body began to tremble, a tension coiling low in her belly, tightening like a spring. Her moans became broken pleas, whispered filth into the steam. “Yes… oh God, yes… right there… don’t stop, baby, please don’t stop fucking your mommy’s ass…”
Her words, so depraved and so loving, pushed him over an edge he’d been circling. His thrusts became harder, more urgent, losing their languid grace for a raw, primal need. “Gonna come,” he warned, his voice a strangled grunt. “Gonna fill this perfect ass up again.”
“Do it,” she begged, her own climax crashing over her. Her inner muscles convulsed around him, a series of violent, milking spasms that ripped a guttural shout from his throat. “Fill me up, Colt! Give it all to me!”
With a final, deep surge, he buried himself to the hilt and erupted. She could feel the hot, pulsing jets deep inside her, another massive load joining the first, the sensation of being filled to capacity sending secondary shocks through her already shuddering body. He held himself there, grinding against her, as his orgasm seemed to go on and on, his body shuddering against hers.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, leaning against the tile, panting, the water washing over them. Slowly, sensitively, Colt pulled out. Lori winced at the sudden emptiness, a thick trickle of his seed immediately escaping down her thigh, stark white against her wet skin before the water diluted it and washed it away.
He turned her gently in his arms. Her eyes were glassy, sated, filled with a profound adoration. He leaned down and kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of sweat and steam and love.
“I love you,” he said against her lips.
“I love you more,” she whispered back, her hands framing his face. She kissed him again, then smiled a slow, wicked smile. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
She dropped to her knees on the shower floor, the water plastering her blonde hair to her scalp. His cock, still semi-hard and glistening, was right in front of her face. It was wet, smeared with a mixture of their exertions. She didn’t hesitate. She took him into her mouth, not with the frantic energy of before, but with a leisurely, worshipful attention.
Her tongue swept along the underside, cleaning him, tasting the unique, musky flavor of their union. She swirled it around the head, lapping up every last drop of his cum that hadn’t made it inside her. She took him deep, her throat relaxing to accept him, humming with contentment.
Colt groaned, his hands resting on her head, not guiding, just feeling. “Christ, Momma… your mouth…”
She pulled back, letting his slick cock pop from her lips. She looked up at him, her blue eyes blazing with a possessive fire. “I want to taste it all. Every last drop. I want to swallow every bit of life you have for me.” Then she engulfed him again, her head bobbing in a slow, deep rhythm. She sucked him back to full hardness, her hand stroking the base in time with her mouth.
He watched, mesmerized, as his mother serviced him with a devotion that was both sacred and obscene. The steam rose around them, the water beat down, and the only sounds were its patter and the wet, sucking noises of her mouth on his flesh. He could feel the pressure building again, a slower, deeper ache this time.
“I’m close again,” he rasped, his fingers tangling in her wet hair.
She increased her pace, her suction becoming more intense, a clear signal for him to let go. Her other hand found his balls, cupping and gently massaging them, coaxing out his essence.
With a deep, shuddering sigh, he came. This orgasm was different from the frantic one before; it was a rolling, intense release that seeped from him rather than erupted. She stayed with him, swallowing diligently, her throat working as she took his offering. She didn’t miss a drop, sucking and licking him clean until he was soft and oversensitive in her mouth.
Finally, she released him and stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She kissed him, and he could taste himself on her tongue.
“Now,” she said, her voice soft but filled with promise, “how about we get out of this shower, and you take me back to bed? I think my throat could use a chance to recover, maybe enjoy a big lie down.”
Moments later, wrapped in thick, soft towels, they padded back into the bedroom. The scent of jasmine had been joined by the clean aroma of lavender from the shower. The moon had moved, throwing different shadows across the floor. Lori dropped her towel and collapsed onto the bed, sprawling on her back with a satiated sigh. She looked like a Renaissance painting, all soft curves and pale skin in the dim light.
Colt lay down beside her, propping himself up on an elbow, his free hand tracing idle patterns on her stomach. “You’re incredible,” he said, the words simple and utterly sincere.
She turned her head on the pillow to look at him. “It’s easy when it’s you.” She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Everything you said to Marty… I heard it, you know. While I was waking up.”
He stilled, his eyes searching hers. “And?”
“And it’s the truth,” she said softly. “It’s our truth. This… what we do… it isn’t just fucking. It’s a language. It’s how we say the things that are too big for words.” She smiled, a little shyly. “I love when you talk dirty to me, Colt. I love when you tell me you’re going to fill me up, or piss in my mouth, or use my holes. Because I know what you’re really saying is that I’m yours. Completely. And you’re mine.”
He leaned down and kissed her, a slow, tender kiss that held the weight of their shared history. “I am yours. Always.”
“Good,” she whispered, her voice taking on a sleepy, seductive quality. “Because later, after Marty brings us breakfast in bed… I want you to wake me up again. But this time, I want you to start by pissing all over my tits. I want to feel it, hot and wet, and watch it run down my body. And then I want you to lick it off me.”
The filthiness of the request, spoken in her gentle, Texan drawl, sent a fresh surge of heat through him. It was a promise of continued devotion, of a day spent exploring the outermost boundaries of their intimacy.
“Anything you want, Momma,” he breathed, his hand sliding down from her stomach to the junction of her thighs. “Everything you want.”
Outside, the first hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the horizon, but in the jasmine-scented sanctuary of the bedroom, the night, and their profound, unbreakable union, felt endless.