It all started on a random night two years ago. I was heading to the kitchen for a late-night snack when I heard it—soft, breathy moans coming from my parents’ room. The door was slightly ajar, and against my better judgment, I peeked inside.
What I saw rewired my brain forever.
My mom was on her back, legs wrapped around my dad’s waist as he thrust into her. Her tits bounced with every movement, her nails digging into his shoulders. The sounds she made—those desperate, whimpering moans—sent an electric jolt straight to my dick. I’d never seen her like that before. Not just as my mom, but as a woman. A sexy, sinful, fuckable woman.
I couldn’t look away. My hand instinctively went to my cock, stroking furiously right there in the hallway. When they finished, I barely made it back to my room before exploding all over myself.
That night changed everything.
Since then, I can’t stop. I jerk off to the memory of her almost every day. Sometimes I sneak into the laundry room just to smell her worn panties, her sweaty bras—anything that carries her scent. I’ve ruined so many of her clothes, cumming all over them before stuffing them back, pretending she’ll never notice.
But it’s not enough.
Now, my fantasies have gotten darker. I don’t just imagine my dad fucking her—I picture other men doing it. Strangers. Rough, faceless guys taking turns on her, making her scream louder than she ever has before. The thought of her being used, worshipped, drives me insane.