Pervert for Life

The door swung inward on a slow creak that filled the whole bathroom.

Lucien stood in the opening with the towel folded over one arm and her clean dress draped across the other. His eyes found her before she could finish yanking the wet fabric down. The hem only made it halfway. It caught on her hips and left everything below exposed. Her ass was bare. Her thighs shone. Between them her pussy stayed split wide around the thick invisible shaft, lips puffy and dripping, the stretch so deep the head of it kept kissing the mouth of her womb with every small pulse.

She snatched at the dress again. The sudden movement made the cock slide. A wet, filthy sound came out of her that no running tap could hide.

Lucien’s face changed. The boyish worry stayed, but his gaze dropped and stayed dropped.

"Mom. You’re leaking. That’s not water."

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The lock clicked fully this time. He set the clothes on the closed toilet lid without looking away from the mess running down her legs.

"Turn around," she said. The words came out wrecked. "I told you I was fine."

He did not turn around. He took one careful step closer. His eyes kept moving from her shaking knees to the swollen place between them that would not close.

The invisible tongue on her clit gave a long, lazy suck.

Evelyn’s hips jerked. Another thick gush spilled out of her and hit the tile with a splat that made them both flinch.

"You’re going to fall," he said. His voice was still soft, still the same worried tone he had used in the hallway. "Let me help you sit. I won’t look anywhere I shouldn’t. I just need you off your feet."

His hand hovered near her elbow. Close enough that she felt the heat of it. Not touching yet.

The cock inside her rolled its hips and drove up. The head mashed against her cervix. White flashed behind her eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood and still a broken sound leaked out.

"I can stand," she got out. "Go wait outside."

He stayed where he was. His throat worked. His eyes flicked down again, then away, then down like he could not stop them.

"Your dress is soaked through the front. And your panties are... Mom, what happened in here? Did you hurt yourself? Are you bleeding inside?"

The concern sounded real. That made the stretch worse. The shaft thickened another fraction, forcing her walls to cling to ridges he could not see. Cream welled around the base of it and ran in a slow, heavy line toward her knee.

She wiped her sticky fingers on the bunched hem and only smeared more of it across the fabric.

"It was a cramp," she said. "A bad one. It’s going."

It was not going. The tongue sucked harder, matching the shallow thrusts the cock had started again. Each one made her breasts sway heavy over the sink. Each one pushed a fresh bead of white down the inside of her thigh.

Lucien swallowed. He picked the towel back up.

"At least let me wipe your legs. You’re dripping on the floor. You’ll slip and crack your head."

He knelt.

Evelyn’s stomach dropped. He was eye-level with her now. The invisible cock kept moving in those slow, claiming strokes. If he looked even a little closer he would see the way her hole kept opening and closing around empty air, the way it glistened and winked with every withdrawal.

"Don’t kneel there," she whispered. "Lucien. Get up."

He froze with the towel in both hands, looking up at her with those wide eyes.

"I’m only going to clean your thighs. That’s all. I promise I won’t look at anything else."

But he was already looking. The swollen clit that peeked past the edge of the ruined lace. The way her pussy stayed stretched around nothing. The fine tremor that ran through her every time the unseen thing punched upward.

Evelyn locked her knees and tried to think of the tap still running, the family downstairs, anything that was not her son’s face this close to the place currently being used. It did not work. The thought alone made her cunt clamp down so hard the cock gave a low sound only she could hear.

She came again.

It was a shaking, leaking orgasm this time, quieter than the first but no less ugly. She grabbed the sink with both hands and hung her head while fluid ran in a thin stream and caught on the towel he held. Some of it dotted the back of his hand.

Lucien stared at the wet spot on his skin.

"Mom. That’s a lot. This doesn’t look like a cramp. Your whole body is shaking."

His voice had gone lower. Still gentle. Still wearing the mask of worry.

The cock did not wear any mask. It kept fucking her in those deep, unhurried strokes while her son knelt two feet away with her juices on his fingers.

Evelyn could not answer. She could only breathe through her teeth and watch him in the mirror over her shoulder. The way his throat moved. The way his gaze kept dropping to the lace still hooked aside, to the mess she could not hide.

He reached out with the towel.

Not to her pussy. To her thigh. He pressed the cloth against the dripping trail and wiped upward, slow and careful, the way someone wipes a scraped knee. The towel dragged through the cream. The small motion jostled her. The cock slammed home in answer.

Evelyn’s mouth opened. No sound came. Only a rush of air.

Lucien’s hand stilled on her skin.

"You’re burning up," he said softly. "Your skin is so hot I can feel it through the towel. I think I should get you to bed. Can you walk if I hold your arm?"

He stood. The towel was soaked through. He dropped it in the sink and offered his forearm.

Evelyn stared at it. If she took it, if she leaned any of her weight on him, the movement would drag the shaft against every oversensitive inch of her. She would come again with her son’s arm under her hand.

The bathroom door was closed. The lock was thrown. Downstairs the rest of the house still moved around as if nothing had changed.

Inside the small room the invisible thing inside her gave one long, claiming thrust that lifted her onto her toes.

Lucien’s eyes flicked down at the exact moment her pussy clenched visibly around nothing.

Something in his expression shifted. The worry stayed on the surface. Underneath it something else had started to wake and look back at her.

"Mom," he said, very quietly. "Tell me the truth. What is happening to you right now?"

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