Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs

The room was a suffocating haze of sin, thick with the scalding musk of Linda's pussy, the sweet sting of her sweat, the bitter polish of the ebony piano lid slick with her come.

The Steinway hummed beneath her, the soundboard still vibrating from her screams, the keys sticky with her juices, the room a temple of taboo where mother and son had burned every chain to ash.

The forbidden was no longer a feeling—it was reality, a pulsing, breathing entity that wrapped us in its claws, the wrongness of what we'd done, what we were, a fire that only made us hungrier.

Her eyes locked on mine, dark and wild, love and lust and surrender, her voice a shredded rasp: "Fuck me, baby."

But she moved first, sliding off the piano lid, her thighs shaking, her come dripping down her legs, leaving a glossy trail on the ebony. She dropped to her knees before me, the plush rug soft under her, her hands trembling as they reached for my jeans, the zipper's rasp loud in the charged silence.

I stood over her, cock throbbing so hard it hurt, the denim soaked with pre-cum, the Halo a roaring furnace in my veins.

My mother, on her knees, about to suck her son's cock, the woman who birthed me, raised me, loved me, now worshipping me in a room next to Sarah's.

The wrongness was a drug, amplifying every sensation, every heartbeat, every glance. Her fingers fumbled with my belt, the clink of the buckle sharp, then yanked my jeans down, my cock springing free, massive, veiny, a glistening giant throbbing in the candlelight, the head swollen and slick with pre-cum, the shaft pulsing with every beat of my heart.

She gasped, a sharp, reverent sound—"HNNGH—Jesus, Peter!"—her eyes wide, pupils blown, her thoughts a stunned prayer: My boy's cock, so fucking huge, so beautiful, veiny and thick, it's a monster, my son's monster, I can't breathe.

Her hands wrapped around it, both of them, fingers barely meeting, the heat of her palms searing, the texture of her skin soft but calloused from years of work, now stroking me, worshiping me. "It's… it's gorgeous," she whispered, voice raw, trembling, "so big, so veiny, my baby's cock…"

Her tongue darted out, licking her lips, the wet glisten catching the light, her breath hot against the head.

The forbidden was a sledgehammer...

My mother's hands on her son's cock, her mouth inches from it, about to suck me, to mouth-fuck me, in a room where music and sin collide.

I groaned, low and guttural, my hands fisting in her hair, the silky strands tangling around my fingers, the scalp heat burning under my grip. She leaned forward, her breath a scalding tease against the head, and licked, a slow, filthy stripe from base to tip, her tongue hot, wet, rough, tracing every vein, the salty tang of my pre-cum making her moan

"—Mmmh—fuck—GRRRH!" —a raw, hungry sound, her thoughts a scream. "My son's cock tastes like sin, so thick, so perfect, I'm sucking my baby's dick, fuck, it's so wrong."

She sucked the head, lips stretching wide, the wet heat of her mouth a shock that made my hips jerk, her tongue swirling, lapping the slit, drinking my pre-cum like it was holy. Her moans were varied, savage—

"HNNGH—UNGH—SLURP!"—wet, obscene, vibrating around my cock, the suction tight, her cheeks hollowing, the texture of her tongue rough against the underside, tracing the throbbing vein.

She took me deeper, mouth-fucking me, her throat relaxing, gagging softly—"GLRK—HNN!"—as the head hit the back, her saliva dripping down the shaft, coating my balls, the slick heat pooling on the rug. Her hands stroked what she couldn't swallow, twisting, pumping, the friction electric, her nails grazing the base, sending sparks up my spine.

The wrongness was everything, she was sucking her my cock, gagging on it, drooling for it.

The taboo was a shared ecstasy, a fantasy made flesh, every gag, every slurp, every moan a defiance of seventeen years of restraint—her fighting the way her eyes lingered, me choking down the need to claim her.

Now, the forbidden consumed us, amplifying every sensation: the scalding heat of her mouth, the wet suction, the rough drag of her tongue, the sting of her nails, the vibration of her moans—"GRRRH—SLURP—HNNGH!"

Her thoughts were a chant: My boy's cock in my throat, my son's dick fucking my mouth, I'm his whore, his mother, his everything.

She pulled back, gasping, strings of saliva connecting her lips to my cock, her face a wreck—flushed, tear-streaked, lips swollen, eyes glassy with lust.

She spat on the head, the warm, slick glob sliding down the shaft, and dove back in, sucking harder, faster, her head bobbing, the wet slap of her lips deafening, her moans a jagged symphony—"UNGH—GLRK—MMMMH!"

She took me deeper, throat constricting, gagging louder—"HNNGH—FUCK!"—her throat muscles milking the head, the heat unbearable, her saliva dripping onto her tits, glistening on her bruised nipples.

I yanked her hair, pulling her off, my cock glistening with her spit, throbbing in the air, and she whimpered—"HRRRH—Peter—please!"—her thoughts a plea: Don't stop, fuck my mouth, my son, use your mother.

I guided her back, mouth-fucking her now, hips thrusting, the wet heat of her throat a vice, her gags—"GLRK—UNGH!"

I fucked my mother's mouth, my cock down her throat, her son's dick owning her. Her hands gripped my thighs, nails digging, the sting sharp, her tits bouncing with each thrust, her moans muffled but relentless—"MMMMH—HNN—GRRRH!"

The room spun, the scent of her pussy, her spit, my pre-cum overwhelming, the sound of her gagging, the heat of her mouth, the wrongness of it all a shared fantasy that broke every rule. Her thoughts were a screamed again {My baby's cock, so big, so beautiful, fucking his mother's throat, I'm his, forever his.}

I pulled out, gasping, my cock slick and pulsing, her saliva dripping from her chin, coating her tits, her eyes wild, her moans raw—"HNNGH—Peter—fuck—more!" She lunged for me, but I held her back, growling,

"Not yet, Mom. I'm gonna fuck you next."