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“Oh, God.” Hunith lets her head bang against the cupboard behind her. “Oh my god. I’m going to hell.”
Will smiles, bites at the inside of her thigh where the skin’s smooth and warm, then drags his cheek over it just to see the redness his stubble leaves over the creamy whiteness. Her legs twitch, close briefly around his head like she wants more friction, then release him. It makes him even harder than he already is, cock heavy and full in his jeans.
He grabs her arse and tugs her closer to the edge of the kitchen counter, then chokes on a breath when she just spreads her legs wide—easy.
Under her flimsy dress—something that should never look this hot on anyone’s mother ever—the light’s soft and yellow, the smell of her strong and mouth-watering.
Will would like to be a fucking gentleman about this—take his time, build up to it—but her fingers push at the back of his head, her hips tilt up, fucking offering her pussy to his mouth with a muttered “come on,” so he just—dives in.
He mouths at her underwear until he can suck her wetness through the fabric. She tastes salty and sweet and sharp all at once on his tongue—he doesn’t know how to describe it, just pushes at the fabric until it slips inside her.
Her panties are dark and drenched by the time he shoves them down her legs, still dangling off her left ankle when she drags him back in by his hair, shoves him right where she wants him.
That’s—That’s Hunith. That’s Merlin’s mother. Who let him and Merlin, when they were kids, snatch cookies from where they were cooling on the counter—right where he has her now spread and wet—pretending she didn’t see them. Who he wanked to when he was a teenager, because she was pretty and young and not like the other mums. Mums who didn’t have a kid at sixteen and thought they were better because of it. Hunith never gave a shit and that was like magic to his overeager dick. Still is apparently.
It makes him hot all over, cock so hard it’s painful. A kind of heavy heat he feels all along his spine.
Because he’s eating his best mate’s mom’s pussy, and she’s wet for it—for him, the kid that grew up right alongside her son.
He pushes his tongue as far as he can inside her—gets all the mess on his nose and chin and, fuck, his cheeks too, fucking everywhere. Fucking all over his face. And she pushes back, fucks herself on his mouth, like—like she needs more too, just filthy with it.
And she—Will doesn’t even know—she keeps her hands on the back of his head and grinds on his face, so that all he can do is lick—lick and suck. He’s got his lips tight on her clit and two fingers inside her and she’s moaning while fucking herself on his hand, heels digging in his shoulders.
Wild thoughts flit in his mind, insane thoughts like: Merlin, mate, your mum’s a bossy lay and Merlin, mate, she’ll just slide in so easy on my cock, and Merlin, mate, I’m gonna make your mum scream my name.
Your mum.
Jesus.
He groans into her with a shudder that wracks him from head to toes, and she gasps above him, fingers twisting in his hair, foot slipping off with a jolt.
She pulls harshly at his hair—and Will never thought he’d be into that, never thought it’d make his dick twitch like it usually does when someone sucks on it—pulls him up so she can look at him, with her flushed face and bitten-red lips. Her breasts are out of her dress, all squished together by the tight fabric of the collar she’s pulled down around them, nipples dark and hard.
It’s the hottest fucking thing Will’s ever seen.
And that’s counting the moment a few seconds ago where he had a facefull of the most delicious pussy he’s ever tasted—better than all the uni girls Will has spent the last few years fucking—all pink and throbbing.
Mid-morning sun comes in through the window, diffused through the lacy curtains—curtains he remembers helping Merlin put up a few years back, sneaking looks in the garden where Hunith was getting a tan in the sexiest one-piece bathing suit he’d ever seen. Now they flutter in the breeze while he has two fingers up her cunt and none of his fantasies had prepared him for this.
His lips feel raw. All he can taste is her. He pumps his fingers inside her, thumb on her clit, slow and almost—fuck, like—he needs to see her face when he pushes in and up, flushed and framed by loose curls, the way she blinks and shivers. He does it so slow, like it’ll give him time to see everything.
He wonders if she’s ever tasted herself. If she’d suck on his fingers to do it. If she’d wank for him, show how she does it when she’s alone. If she’d let him—
“You’re—” she starts, then pinches her lips together, and Will wants—he wants to kiss her and bury his face in her glorious breasts, and—
He doesn’t know why he says it, only that there’s that insistant heat along his spine, and something in her eyes, in the way she looks hungry. In the way she can’t say it.
“Will,” he says, like she doesn’t know. “Your son’s best friend.”
She whines high in her throat, then throws her head back. Her eyes flutter, her back arches and fuck—she’s coming. She’s fucking coming because of him and Will’s brain just—shuts down for a sec. Implodes. Whatever.
It’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t come in his jeans, is what it is.
She laughs and moans, hips rolling still, and Will fucking needs to come too, but he can’t take his fingers out of her as she trembles around them.
He wants to give her everything.
He thinks he’s said that out loud because Hunith peers at him, throat white and long, and grins. With one hand she twists her left nipple, and with the other she pushes his head down, back between her thighs.
“Fuck yeah,” he says, then makes her shout by giving her oversensitive clit a good suck.