Pervert for Life

Evelyn’s fingers found the hem of her dress before she had decided to move them.

The fabric peeled away from her skin with a wet sound that made her flinch. The dark patch had soaked through everything. Her panties were a ruined scrap of lace clinging to the place where the invisible shaft split her open. She hooked them aside with two fingers and looked.

Her pussy was swollen past anything she recognized. The lips were puffy and shining, stretched wide around a thickness she still could not see. Cream coated the base of it in thick, slow drips that ran down the insides of her thighs and collected at her knees. The tongue on her clit had not stopped. It sucked in a lazy, insistent rhythm that made her hips twitch forward every few seconds whether she wanted them to or not.

She put her own fingers there.

Two of them first, sliding along the stretched rim where her body had already given up trying to close. The invisible cock was hot and ridged and impossibly real under her touch. She could feel every inch of it. She could feel how her walls fluttered around it when she pressed. She pushed her fingers in beside it.

The stretch punched a sound out of her that she barely swallowed. Her mouth opened against the mirror. The glass fogged in a small circle. She watched her own face while she worked a third finger in, forcing her cunt to take both the cock and her hand at the same time. It hurt in the sweet, full way that made her knees buckle. She locked them and kept going.

The tongue on her clit tightened as if it approved.

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek and started moving her fingers. Short, filthy strokes that rubbed the underside of the shaft and dragged against her own soaked walls. Every time she pulled back, more cream came with her. It ran over her knuckles and dripped into the sink. The wet sounds were louder than the running tap she had turned on to hide them.

Outside the door her son’s voice came through, gentle and close.

"Mom? I brought you a towel. And a clean dress from your room. I can leave them by the door if you want."

Evelyn’s fingers froze halfway in.

The cock did not freeze. It gave a slow, deep roll that mashed the head against her cervix and made her see white for a second. Her own fingers were trapped around it. She could feel the pulse of it through her palm.

"I’m fine," she said. The words came out wrecked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Just leave them. Please."

A pause. Then the soft sound of fabric being set on the floor.

"You were shaking a lot," he said. Still that same worried, boyish tone. "And your voice sounds different. If you feel sick I can come in. I won’t look. I just want to help you sit down or something."

Help her sit down.

Evelyn pushed her fingers deeper and started fucking herself on both things at once. The cock and her hand. The tongue sucking her clit in time with the thrusts she gave herself. She watched it in the mirror. The way her stomach jumped. The way her breasts hung heavy and tight-nippled over the sink. The way her pussy looked obscene, stretched around something that wasn’t there and something that was.

"I don’t need you to come in," she said. Her hips were moving now whether she told them to or not. Small, grinding circles that made the shaft drag along the front wall where she was already too sensitive. "Drink your juice. I’ll be out soon."

"Okay." He did not sound convinced. "I’ll wait right here in case you need me. I can hear you breathing. It sounds like it hurts."

It did hurt. It also felt so good she was going to come standing up with her son two feet away on the other side of a locked door.

She added her thumb. Rubbed her own clit right where the invisible tongue was already latched, stacking the sensations until her legs started to shake in earnest. The cock answered by thickening. She felt it swell inside her, stretching her wider around her own fingers. A fresh gush of fluid ran down her wrist and splashed in the sink.

Evelyn’s forehead dropped against the cool glass.

She thought of her son’s hand on her thigh. How innocent it had looked. How close it had been to this. She thought of the way he had offered to bathe her, voice soft, eyes wide, as if washing his mother’s body was the most natural kindness in the world. The thought made her cunt clamp down so hard her fingers went numb.

The cock slammed up into that clench and held.

She came.

It ripped through her without warning, a hard, ugly orgasm that bent her over the sink and tore a broken sound out of her throat before she could stop it. Her pussy seized around the shaft and her hand at the same time, milking both in messy, helpless pulses. Cream squirted around her fingers and painted the porcelain. The tongue on her clit sucked her through it and did not let go when the first wave passed. A second one stacked on top of the first and she had to slap her free hand over her mouth.

On the other side of the door her son went quiet.

Then, very softly:

"Mom. That didn’t sound like you were fine."

Evelyn could not answer. Her thighs were still twitching. The cock was still buried to the root and now it had started a slow, shallow thrusting again, using her aftershocks like they belonged to it. Her fingers were still inside herself. She could feel every ridge of the invisible shaft sliding between them.

"I’m coming in," he said.

The handle turned.

The lock held, but only just. She had not thrown the bolt all the way. In her rush she had only twisted it halfway, the way a person does when they think they have more time than they do.

The handle turned again, firmer.

Evelyn yanked her fingers out of herself with a wet sound she knew he would hear if the door opened even an inch. She grabbed the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles went white. The cock stayed exactly where it was, thick and deep, and the tongue kept licking the mess she had made as if it had all the time in the world.

"Mom," he said, and now the kindness in his voice had an edge of worry that sounded almost like something else. "Please open the door. You’re scaring me."

The lock clicked the rest of the way under a second, careful twist from the other side.

The door began to open.

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