wine drunk mom sitting me down on the couch and handing me a glass. it looks huge in my hands. she's supervising me. "It's christmas. It's okay, honey. drink up."
her refilling it without me even finishing my first glass, telling me ive gota catch up.
feeling a woozy and giggly after two glasses, her filling my third with a loving smile on her face and a hand on my thigh.
glazed over eyes watching her sliding her hands under my shirt, her wine lipped smile against my mouth telling me how cute i am when im tipsy, how limp my little body is, how soft and warm it is as her hands roam and her tongue searches for mine.
my confusion expressed as a muddled-together mess of words falling from my lips as her mouth is brought to my jaw, my neck, my ear, my chest. her hands holding mine against the plush couch as if my weak attempts to struggle would even matter.
the warmth in my belly spreads to my cock, each brush of fingertips and breath against sensitive skin sending blood running to my cocklet. my mind too liquid to understand what she's doing to me, what these feelings are, being bombarded by senses of too-much pleasure.
soft guiding hands spreading my thighs apart from where i was unconsciously squeezing them together, revealing a wet mess of my own anticipation seeping through my pajama shorts.
"Oh, angel," she smiles down at me with maternal love in her eyes, but with a flame of hunger behind it. I feel her cock throb from where its pressed against my leg.
"You're giving momma the best gift she could ask for"
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