We were lying in bed on his day off, early afternoon light and nothing to do, and he was inside me moving slow, lazy.
His phone rang. His mom.
He picked it up without pulling out.
“Hey Mom,” he said, completely casual, like his cock wasn’t buried inside me, like I wasn’t holding my breath trying to stay silent.
I froze under him. He kept moving. Slow and deep, on purpose, making sure I felt every inch while his mom talked about whatever. I heard him saying “uh-huh” and “really” in all his normal response words.
I had my hand over my mouth. I was not allowed to make noise.
He thrusted on “uh-huh.” A slow, deep one. On “really” he pushed all the way in and held for a second, and I was shaking from holding it together.
“That’s cool, Mom,” he said, and started moving faster, the phone held to his ear like this was normal. Like he was fucking me into the mattress while having a regular conversation.
I could feel him getting harder. The thrusts were getting deeper. He was turned on by it—by having me silent and full while he pretended to be a normal son.
“Yeah, I should let you go,” he said, and he was moving almost rough now, chasing it, and I was dying trying not to make noise.
“Love you too, Mom. Tell Dad I said hi.”
He hung up.
The second the call ended he started fucking me properly, hard and fast, and I could finally gasp his name, could come around him while he finished deep.
He’s calling his mom back next weekend. I know we’re doing that again.
