"Ugh..." As Betty’s nasal moan reached my ears, my heart bled anew.
I imagined Michael steadying himself, aiming his erection at Betty’s entrance, the tip pressing in.
But what’s done is done.
No amount of effort could turn back time.
I’ve faced everything from breakups to makeups, so what’s there for a grown man not to face?
Hearing Betty’s moan, I forced my eyes open, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, and widened them as much as possible.
Reflected in the computer screen, my eyes were as wide as a bull’s.
The scene on the screen took me by surprise.
Michael hadn’t entered her yet.
Betty’s moan was caused by Michael leaning forward, pushing her back against the wall once more.
Caught off guard, she couldn’t help but moan.
With her back against the wall, before she could react, Michael withdrew the hand that had been steadying her and reached down between them, gripping his shaft.
Since they were standing face to face, Michael needed to adjust his stance and angle his erection correctly for penetration.
Michael, one hand on his shaft and the other lifting Betty’s leg, slightly bent his knees, squatting down while leaning his hips forward, searching for the perfect angle to enter her.
Betty, sensing what was about to happen, furrowed her brows briefly before relaxing again.
Throughout, she kept her eyes closed, as if she had truly lost her soul and was at peace, letting the living man fuss over her.
"No..." Just as Michael adjusted his position and his tip pressed against Betty’s entrance, Betty suddenly opened her eyes and pulled her lips away from Michael’s kiss, then spoke in a panic.
Her lips were wet with a mix of their saliva.
Betty looked somewhat flustered but remained calm, with confusion in her eyes overshadowed by a haze of desire.
Michael, eyes wide open, showed no panic or disappointment.
His expression was devoid of soul, filled only with lust and heavy breathing.
"Don’t... not in this position..." Betty, overwhelmed by Michael’s innocent look, averted her gaze and murmured, now seeming more like a submissive younger or a dutiful wife pleading with her husband.
"Why?" Michael responded, his words finally flowing smoothly, unlike his earlier disjointed speech.
"I... I can’t stand steady on one leg..." Betty meant to say she didn’t want to proceed without protection, but seeing Michael not fully himself, she kept her thoughts to herself.
"I’ll hold you... Mommy..." Michael said, positioning his tip at Betty’s entrance again.
Betty, however, didn’t react, perhaps because she felt it but chose not to resist.
Her eyes widened as she looked at Michael, filled with surprise and disbelief, her desire nearly overwhelmed by her astonishment.
"Michael, what did you just... just call me?" Betty’s face was alight with ecstasy and excitement, her words stumbling over each other, her lips quivering slightly with emotion.
"Aren’t you my mom?" Michael looked at Betty, his expression clouded with confusion and wonder.
"Did I get it wrong?" Although Michael was mostly lucid now, he couldn’t help but furrow his brow, puzzled.
"No... you’re right, I am your mom..." Betty, no longer caring about their current state or posture, withdrew her hand from Michael’s shoulder and began wiping her own with the backs of her hands.
Hearing Michael call her ’mom’ felt like a rebirth, seeing him and hearing him say it after what seemed like ages.
This happiness was something she hadn’t fully appreciated when Michael was always around; their week apart hadn’t distanced her from Michael but made her cherish him even more, this son that wasn’t hers by birth.
"Mom, what’s wrong?" Michael asked, still somewhat confused, perhaps still missing some memories.
His mind needed time to sort through the thoughts, his painful experiences over the past week still disrupting his fragile consciousness.
"Nothing’s wrong, mom... just, can you call me ’mom’ a few more times, please?" Betty wiped away her tears, then broke into a smile, her eyes filled with maternal love and affection as she looked at Michael.
Despite their endearing calls, their posture was incongruously intimate.
Mother and son were naked, their genitals touching but not penetrating; Michael held one of Betty’s legs, both maintaining a position suggestive of sexual foreplay.
The tender calls of "mom" juxtaposed with their current posture and scenario seemed starkly out of place.
"Mom..." Michael obediently called out to Betty.
"Mmm..." Betty responded happily.
"Mom..."
"Mmm..."
"Mom..."
"Mmm..."
Each call from Michael was met with a response from Betty, the two seemingly addicted to this exchange, as if trying to make up for a week’s worth of missed affection.
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"Mom..."
"Mmm... oh..."
The dialogue and actions between Betty and Michael, wrapped in a complex layer of emotions and physical intimacy, highlight a deeply intricate and taboo dynamic, challenging the boundaries of their relationship.
When Michael called out "mom" for the last time, Betty’s response was unusually intense, her voice changing pitch as she threw her head back, her long hair cascading behind her, her lips parting in a prolonged moan.
Her eyes were tightly shut, her brows furrowed, and her arms suddenly wrapped tightly around Michael’s neck.
Seeing Betty in this state, I couldn’t bring myself to look down, knowing what had happened, though reluctant to face it.
Yet, I gathered all my courage and shifted my gaze downward, where I saw their lower bodies tightly pressed together, their pubic hair mingling without any space between them.
From above and below Betty’s hips, Michael’s penis was no longer visible; it had been completely enveloped by Betty’s vagina.
Betty’s vaginal opening was obscured by Michael’s groin and pubic hair, leaving only his swollen testicles visible outside.
I had been so focused on Betty’s expressions that I missed the moment they joined, but seeing the result, I didn’t care about the process anymore.
I replayed the video, and right after Michael’s last "mom," his penis, which had been poised at the entrance of Betty’s vagina, thrust forward forcefully.
Betty had just begun to respond with a "mmm" when she was interrupted by Michael’s sudden penetration, turning her moan into a prolonged cry.
Michael, perhaps long deprived, had been eagerly anticipating this moment.
This simple act of penetration, though straightforward, had come at a great cost, with Michael nearly losing himself completely.
Thus, when he penetrated, he did so with determination and force, pushing his hips forward as far as they could go.
His thick penis, lubricated by the secretions from Betty’s vagina and powered by the strong thrust of his hips, parted Betty’s labia and pressed into her vagina, continuing until it was fully sheathed.
The penetration was slow but resolute, without any hesitation, completed in one fluid motion from start to finish.