So I’m freaking out.
I had my son pretty young and didn’t get to “go wild” like other girls. Since my son moved out, I’ve tried to make up for lost time. Basically, I’ve become a professional slut. After poking around some kink websites and hooking up around town, I discovered a club that offers a free-use gloryhole. There’s a hole that I put my body through so when someone walks into the room they see a tip jar and my legs, ass, and pussy.
It’s pretty risky but other people work at the club and I’m good about my health. Plus my back tattoo is pretty generic at first glance.
Anyway, you can use a safe word at any time but I like to be gagged so there’s a bell I can ring to get a bouncer’s attention.
Overall, it’s been a really fun and positive experience. But last month something happened and I still don’t know how to feel about it.
So I was in the hole when my first client of the day came. He put cash in the jar, put on rubber gloves, and began to touch me. Most clients don’t take the time to finger me beforehand. It wasn’t really necessary but it was nice. He used the lube too. Soon I was squirming and clenching around his fingers.
I could hear him groan through the wall and he unzipped. His cock was on the large side but he moved slowly, moaning and gripping my hips. He was good at it.
He picked up the pace and I closed my eyes, enjoying myself as he became more verbal. Maybe I should have realized then that there was something familiar about him, but I was already dick-drunk.
He was mumbling normal stuff about how good I felt and I wasn’t paying much attention. Then he said “Mommy.”
I froze.
“Mommy you’re so wet,” he said and yes, I knew that voice.
I made a noise around the ball gag and my son chuckled.
“Oh you like that,” he said, “what if I called you Mom?” My resulting moan was evidence enough and he laughed. He started fucking me harder.
I knew it was wrong, I should have safe-worded, but his cock – my son’s cock felt so good and I knew that I’d soon come under his crushing hands.
“Fuck Mom, you feel amazing,” he breathed, picking up the pace when I clenched around him involuntarily. “Oh God yes, Mom,”
He began a litany of praise, telling me how much he loved his mother’s pussy, how I felt under his hands, around his dick. How he was going to come inside me. I wailed around the gag as he pounded my hips against the wall.
“That’s right, come on your son’s cock.”
He made a strangled noise as I squeezed, shuddering and crying in his grip.
“Mom,” he ground out, repeating with every thrust, “Mom, Mom, Mom –”
Then his hips stuttered and I felt it. I felt him press into me, deep as he could, and his cock began to pulse. My own son was filling me with his cum.
His hands squeezed hard enough to leave bruises and he ground up against my ass, making sure I took it all. I couldn’t help it, I came again.
Finally, his grip loosened. He stroked my thighs before pulling out, sending warm liquid gushing from my exposed pussy. I clenched around nothing and listened to him breathe, one hand still on my back. My lower back, which was now exposed.
“Fuck that was –”
Then he went very still and I realized what was wrong: he saw my tattoo.
He didn’t say anything else, but he let go and was frozen there for a long time. Then he zipped up, tipped again, and left.
I won’t lie, I haven’t stopped using the gloryhole and I sometimes like to imagine the guy fucking me is him, but as far as I can tell it hasn’t been.
If that wasn’t already a problem, my birthday is coming up and we have a big family dinner planned. I don’t know what to do.
