Semen in high heels

The early summer morning sun streamed into Mrs. Charles's bedroom through the French windows.
"Darling?"
I turned over, my body still limp, my eyes half-open with sleep, and found my husband was gone; I was alone in the empty bed.
"Damn it!"
I slammed my hand on Charlie's pillow. He must have taken the early morning flight to Chicago. I couldn't understand why someone almost fifty was still so obsessed with work.
Waking up to find myself alone in the whole house was definitely a bad thing. I wandered around the empty villa barefoot in my pajamas, the pajamas open, nothing underneath—I usually sleep naked.
A pair of full breasts swayed in the air, pushing open the front of my nightgown. My pert buttocks writhed rhythmically beneath the silk fabric. I walked to the large mirror in the bathroom and stared at it, mesmerized. In the mirror was a mature body. I removed my hairpin, and my long, golden hair cascaded down my snow-white shoulders, accentuating my sexy neck, my curvaceous figure, my deep red areolas, my flat stomach, my strong, long legs, and my alluring feet with red nail polish.
Can you guess my age?
My name is Laura, wife of Charles, the CEO of a famous financial company. I'm forty-two years old, but I look like I'm only in my thirties. I secretly go to nightclubs, and countless young men always approach me! You know what? When one young man after another surrounds you, saying, "Oh, you're so hot!"
, it feels amazing.
My beautiful face and hot body have always been my proudest assets, especially for a forty-two-year-old mother of two.
Charlie and I are both white, but we have two Black twin sons. Obviously, the two children are not related to us by blood. Carter and Jack were originally orphans; their heartless parents abandoned them at the town church when they were only one year old. At that time, Charlie and I had been married for two years and couldn't conceive, so we decided to adopt these poor Black twins. That was sixteen years ago.
After adopting them, we treated these two Black children as our own and didn't have any more children. Now, Carter and Jack are already tall young men, both over six feet tall. Both brothers are outstanding; a few days ago, they both received acceptance letters from MIT—out of 10,000 applicants competing for 300 spots.
What makes their football-loving father most happy is that, due to their outstanding performance in the National High School Football League, they have received invitations to university teams.
The two brothers have practically become stars in our small town, and as their mother, I am naturally incredibly proud.
After washing up, I never eat breakfast because that's how I maintain my perfect figure. I need to go to the supermarket this morning.
I slipped on a tight pink t-shirt. I rarely wear a bra because I hate feeling restricted. I love the way my 36E breasts bounce up and down as I walk; the sensitive nipples rubbing against the tight cotton fabric excites me, especially when passersby stare.
I wore low-rise denim shorts, the waistband of my thong visible, revealing my long, shapely legs. My firm, rounded buttocks swayed rhythmically with each step—the plump, perky bottom, the tight shorts, the taut curves—it was incredibly alluring. I've always considered myself a modern woman, boldly displaying my charm.
Frankly, I enjoy men's gazes, even those filled with desire, especially the gazes of young men. As a 42-year-old housewife, I'm proud to still attract the attention of young people.
For the past six months, one thing has been bothering me: the way my two sons look at me and their actions. At home, I dress very casually, almost to the point of being unrestrained. I often don't wear underwear, just a thin nightgown, and the bare skin beneath makes my two energetic boys restless.
Sometimes, the two brothers take the opportunity to stand close to me and spy on me from above. Beside two tall men, each over six feet, I feel almost completely exposed. And every time we hug, their hands always wander over my body. When they kiss, I don't feel the normal greeting from children to their mother, but rather a strong male possessiveness. I've even caught Carter and Jack trying to peek at my genitals several times! Good heavens! They're actually peeking at their mother's private parts! I'm worried.
Every time my husband goes on a business trip, leaving just me and our two kids at home, I always have a strange feeling inside. A little scared, a little nervous, sometimes even a little expectant or excited. Facing these two robust young men, facing the burning desire in their eyes, I feel lost. I can hardly imagine them as innocent and adorable children, can hardly imagine Carter crying in my arms because the neighbor's kid bullied him, can hardly imagine Jack clinging to his dad's hand and begging because he couldn't go to the amusement park…
I tell my husband some of my thoughts, just some, because there are other thoughts I find hard to say. Charlie always laughs: "Oh, honey! All energetic young men are like this. Don't worry about it too much. Maybe they won't be like this after they get girlfriends, and then you might feel disappointed. Hahaha!"
Maybe Charlie is right, maybe I'm being too sensitive. The speed at which Carter and Jack have grown from my little boys into strong young men is a little unsettling. I think this is a feeling every mother has.
I stop thinking. Yes, it's not a big deal! I tell myself.
I leaned against the wall and slipped my foot into a red peep-toe high heel. The 12-centimeter heel was considered medium for my shoes. I've always believed high heels are a woman's most loyal helper; they make you look slimmer, more graceful, and more sexy. For a 42-year-old housewife, heels over 10 centimeters might be a bit excessive, but I'm different, because in my heart I'm a hot girl or a hotmon!
"Oh! Damn! What the hell is this?!"
As my right foot slipped into the sexy high heel, I suddenly felt a sticky, gelatinous liquid on the sole. I quickly pulled my foot back; the viscous liquid stretched into a long, thin thread—a white emulsion! This definitely wasn't milk or anything like that, because I'd never seen milk this thick before. Then, this… my heart skipped a beat.
When I brought the shoe closer, I smelled a strong odor, and for a moment my mind went blank, as if it had short-circuited. There was semen in my high heels. Yes, it was true. Even though it had been a long time since I'd made love with Charlie, for a 42-year-old woman, semen was all too familiar.
I stood there, frozen, the semen in the high heels radiating a strong masculine scent, assaulting my senses. What a scene it would be if a hot, mature woman discovered semen in her sexy high heels! I felt a powerful electric current surge from my groin down my back to the back of my neck.
Whose damn stuff was this? My husband Charlie's? Oh! Come on, even if he ejaculated ten times, he wouldn't have produced this much. There was a lot of semen; one step and it almost covered half the sole of the shoe, and quite a bit had already settled on my soles, with white liquid overflowing between my toes.
A stranger in the house? A stranger climbed over the wall, ejaculated in my high heels, and then left. What a ridiculous guess!
Actually, I already knew the answer in my heart, but I just didn't want to admit it. That's right! It was my children! Carter! Jack! Who else could it be but them? These two little bastards actually ejaculated in their mother's high heels!
It's unbelievable, God! I can't even describe how I feel right now!
My mind was a complete mess. I stared for a long time at the white liquid inside the black high heel, letting the strong smell of semen constantly stimulate my olfactory nerves. A slightly warm, sticky feeling lingered between my dangling feet. I stood there dumbfounded on one leg until I lost my balance.
Shocked, I was also furious. These two little rascals were absolutely outrageous! They were getting increasingly reckless; perhaps my tolerance had emboldened them. If I had stopped them the first time they did something inappropriate to their mother, if I had reprimanded them without hesitation the first time they peeked at my genitals while I was walking down the stairs, perhaps these two brothers wouldn't have acted so brazenly today.
Yes, it was utterly absurd. Even now, I still can't believe my eyes.
My children actually ejaculated in their mother's high heels! This wasn't just peeking; this… this was practically an innuendo! A provocation!
Oh! What were they trying to do? What did they want to do to their mother? They…
were shocked, furious. My adrenaline surged, and my body began to heat up. A familiar sensation, like an electric current, shot through my lower abdomen, gradually spreading down to my genitals and chest. I instinctively squeezed my legs together. This feeling was so incredibly familiar—when Carter peeked at my genitals, when Jack's hands moved to my buttocks… Oh! God! What's wrong with me? I…
This familiar feeling was like an invisible yet powerful hand gripping my heart, the immense pressure making it hard to breathe, my breathing becoming rapid.
I had avoided this feeling countless times, trying to expel it from my body.
Damn Carter! Damn Jack! I'll teach you a lesson! I cursed the two brothers incessantly in my mind, desperately trying to banish this feeling I had always been afraid to face. But this feeling was like a mischievous child; the harder I tried to get rid of it, the tighter it clung to me.
Oh, it was like a demon. It began to control my thoughts. Images of Carter and Jack's tall, muscular bodies, dark skin, prominent pectoral muscles, powerful waists, firm buttocks, and their enormous penises kept flashing through my mind.
I had seen Jack's huge, dark penis when he urinated; it was enormous, at least six inches long, with the oval glans partially exposed outside the foreskin. This was when it was flaccid; I couldn't imagine how big it would be when erect. Carter's seemed even larger…
They had that characteristic size of Black men, like the Black male stars in porn movies.
Damn it! I was fantasizing about boys' penises. Young, enormous penises were so tempting; I couldn't control my consciousness. A powerful warm current surged through my genitals; I could feel my labia minora engorged with blood, and a large amount of fluid was flowing from my private parts. If it weren't for my hot pants, it would probably be dripping onto the floor.
Soon, I found a large amount of semen in my other high heel as well—two puddles of semen, both shockingly abundant! Such young lads; seventeen or eighteen-year-old boys always seem to have an endless supply of semen.
My mind was filled with images of Carter and Jack masturbating in their mother's sexy high heels, their breathing rapid, their movements frantic, their huge penises shooting their semen into the shoes like high-pressure water guns. Or maybe they were shoving their engorged cocks into my high heels—could those small heels even hold their massive penises? I wondered if the stiff leather of the high heels would hurt my precious cocks…
My consciousness, like a rudderless boat, sank deeper and deeper into a swamp of sexual fantasies. The allure of a mature housewife for a young man was immense; the constraints of ethics didn't stop my lewd thoughts, but rather amplified the thrill of breaking taboos.
I don't admit to being a lewd, obscene woman; I'm just a woman who likes sex, likes sex, just a sexy, hot mom.
Really, I'm not a bad woman. Maybe this feeling had been suppressed for too long, maybe it was Charlie's increasingly limp penis, maybe it was the children's constant harassment… In short, I lost control today.
Half an hour later, I appeared in front of the supermarket shelf, wearing those black peep-toe high heels stained with my two brothers' semen. The space between my feet and the shoes was filled with the sticky, slippery semen, and my feet kept sliding towards the toes. The insteps were tightly wrapped by the shoe uppers, and I wiggled my big buttocks to maintain my balance, walking with a bit of difficulty.
I don't know why I wore those shoes out. There were people coming and going in the supermarket; who would know that my feet were covered in my sons' semen? But the feeling was incredibly strange, making me extremely excited.
I changed into a skirt because the hot pants I had worn before leaving were almost soaked.
The semen dried quickly, leaving only a slightly slippery feeling on my feet, but I could still smell the strong odor of semen. My mind was in turmoil. Although I pretended to be calm on the surface, when I got home, I realized that I had bought chicken breast instead of beef.
No one was home yet; Carter and Jack were still at school training. As usual, I was preparing lunch in the kitchen. As I calmed down, I started to worry. I didn't know how to face my two children. If I could pretend not to notice their advances when they peeked at my genitals and made inappropriate advances, and if they could pretend they weren't caught, could I really pretend nothing happened with the semen in my high heels today?
This wasn't just a simple case of pushing their luck; it was a provocation, a challenge from my children. They were no longer satisfied with sneaky intrusions; they were launching a direct attack on their mother. What should I do?
Time didn't give me much time to think. The enticing aroma of meat wafting from the oven had just filled the air when I had to face my two sons. Carter and Jack returned, sweating profusely.
"Hey, Mom, what's for lunch?"
Jack walked into the kitchen, approaching me, his body reeking of sweat.
"Yes...yes...chicken breast, baby. How was your morning practice?"
I feigned composure, continuing to fidget with the food, avoiding Jack's gaze.
"Uh...not bad."
I sensed a hint of unease in Jack's reply.
I glanced at Jack's expression out of the corner of my eye; his eyes had been darting around, like a child caught doing something wrong, trying desperately to act like nothing had happened.
I suddenly realized Jack and I were the same; we were both pretending, both hiding our true
feelings, both acting as if nothing was wrong. Yes, Jack was just like me; he must have been incredibly nervous
inside. That's right, my baby wasn't much better off than me! The restlessness of adolescence made them drool over their alluring mothers, and the impulsiveness of youth led them to uncontrollably ejaculate into their mothers' sexy high heels. But they were still children, seventeen or eighteen-year-old boys. When desire clouded their judgment, and they finally mustered the courage to launch a direct assault on their mothers, their immature, still somewhat childish thoughts prevented them from appearing calm and collected.
Thinking about this, I seemed less nervous, and my anxious heart gradually calmed down. Yes, I'm older than them combined. I can't lose to two young lads; how can I lose to two children I've raised?
I tried to take control of the situation, raising my head to look directly into Jack's somewhat evasive eyes: "Honey, you have to do your best and practice hard! Mom doesn't want you to be sitting on the sidelines in college!"
"I know,"
Jack replied somewhat woodenly.
"I believe in my son!"
I tiptoed and kissed Jack's sweaty cheek. "Go take a shower! Look how dirty you are! Hehe!"
Jack left, almost as if he were running away. I knew I had done well. I didn't show any embarrassment or unease. I was in control. I had the upper hand. The big boys were no match for their mother!
I licked the sweat from Jack's lips. It was salty, and tasted pretty good, haha!
At lunch, the two brothers didn't talk much, just kept their heads down eating. I kept observing the two big boys. Every time our eyes met, they would avoid each other, which greatly boosted my confidence. In my eyes, their two tall, well-built bodies reminded me of their childhood selves.
The afternoon was rather long. This week it was Carter's turn to mow the lawn. Carter was the older brother, Jack. Actually, when the two little guys were adopted, no one knew which one was the older brother and which one was the younger brother. The children's names were given by the priest, and Carter was also named the older brother by the priest.
Carter was slightly shorter than Jack, but more muscular. On the field, he was a fearsome midfielder. I'd personally witnessed Carter knock two opponents away while he himself only stumbled slightly.
In the sunlight, Carter wore only a pair of shorts, revealing his steel-like muscles, sweat reflecting the sun's rays as he pushed an old lawnmower back and forth in the garden.
I'd touched Carter's strong pectoral muscles more than once—hard as iron yet full of elasticity—and his six-pack abs, which were somewhat intimidating. His broad shoulders and the strong lines of his back extended all the way into his shorts.
Standing before the floor-to-ceiling window of my second-floor bedroom, I gazed at Carter's muscular physique, drawn by a compelling youthful aura that made me feel a little hot. I pressed myself against the glass, the cold glass touching my slightly burning nipples through the thin fabric. I wanted to calm myself down; I needed to think about the problems between me and my children.
So what exactly was wrong between me and my children? Was it simply because two energetic boys, driven by the restlessness of puberty, harbored ill intentions towards me and did many outrageous things? No! It's not that simple. Reason tells me the problem isn't just with the children.
Could there be a problem within myself? I tried to avoid this question; I think no mother would want to face or even admit to such an unspeakable issue.
But the facts don't allow me to deny it, they don't allow me to avoid it. Because every time the children peeked at my body or made overly intimate gestures, my heart would race. This wasn't just because of tension and fear; I think it was also mixed with an unspeakable excitement and anticipation. Sometimes, I felt as if I actually enjoyed the intrusion of two strong young men.
I remember that time, I was cleaning the living room wearing a tight denim miniskirt. When I discovered Jack peeking at my bare genitals while I bent over, a strange excitement rose within me. I even deliberately prolonged the time and extent of my bend, and I secretly wiggled my large buttocks, trying to lift the already short skirt, making it easier for the strong young man to admire his mother's cleavage.
And then there was that time, Carter's inappropriate hug, his large hands gripping my buttocks with ill intent. Instead of stopping him, I slightly arched my back to meet the young man's greedy hands. I felt his large member pressing against my lower abdomen, growing harder and hotter, my ample hips fully enjoying the power of the young man…
And this morning, those hot pants, soaked with his semen, were still lying in the laundry basket in the bathroom… Oh my god! What's wrong with me?
The facts are undeniable; I have to admit that Carter and Jack are filled with desire for their sexy mothers, and their mothers are equally yearning for their sons' strong bodies and boundless energy.
A young man with overflowing energy, a mature woman with unfulfilled desires; a son with nowhere to release his desires, a mother desperately craving sex; a tall, strong black young man, a sexy and alluring white housewife… They are two ends of a scale, two sides of an equal sign, sharing an innate similarity. They are also the opposite extremes of ice and fire, the hard and the soft, possessing immense contradictions. Putting them together would inevitably create a massive chemical reaction, a reaction that would make one's blood boil and one's blood surge.
A forty-two-year-old woman, a fully mature body, a frighteningly large need, a desire that seemed to want to devour a man whole—how could old Charlie's limp little penis possibly satisfy her! When you are disappointed time and time again by the old man pressing down on you, when desire torments you to the point of madness, when a huge temptation is placed before you. To hell with all the damn ethics and morality, to hell with all the social pressure!
To hell with all of it! To hell with all of it! I almost shouted it out. With a shout from the depths of my heart, I seemed to feel the shackles that had been binding me break, the boulder on my chest disappear, and my body and mind felt so light, my heart overflowing with inexplicable joy and excitement…
In the garden, Carter was still diligently weeding, his fit body incredibly attractive, the front of his shorts bulging—a young man's great asset, enough to make any woman's heart flutter. With Carter's steps, his large member restlessly pounded against the nylon fabric of his shorts, and I even felt as if it were my son's huge penis beckoning to me.
Don't worry, baby, Mommy's coming!
I moved away from the window, somewhat reluctantly tearing my gaze away from Carter. I sat down at the vanity, admiring my captivating face: alluring eyes, delicate blue pupils, a high nose bridge, and sensual lips. The only flaws were a few crow's feet at the corners of my eyes and a slightly protruding double chin, but these imperfections didn't detract from my beauty; instead, they exuded a mature charm, precisely the allure of a mature woman, incredibly irresistible to seventeen or eighteen-year-old boys. Wasn't that exactly what Carter and Jack, those two little rascals, wanted?
To make myself even more alluring, I had to put on some makeup. Putting on makeup at home was something I couldn't understand just a few days ago; sometimes, people change incredibly quickly. First, I applied a layer of soft-toned foundation to make my skin look smoother; long false eyelashes were essential, of course, but before applying them, I had to apply a layer of alluring blue-purple eyeshadow, which would perfectly accentuate my captivating eyes, along with sexy pink crystal lip gloss…
As I admired my near-perfect face in the mirror, I piled my beautiful long blonde hair high on my head.
Of course, the dressing up wasn't over yet; I needed to find myself a sexy outfit. I opened my wardrobe, looking for something that would fully showcase my hot body, especially highlighting my full breasts and alluring buttocks. I knew my big tits and perky buttocks were every guy's dream. After thinking for a while, I decided to wear a white off-the-shoulder short-sleeved top paired with a black tight mini skirt.
The short-sleeved shirt was clearly no match for my ample breasts. The sparse fabric stretched taut, and the off-the-shoulder design not only exposed my snow-white shoulders but also revealed my alluring and deep cleavage. My full breasts were almost completely exposed under the thin white fabric, the front of the shirt only covering the upper edge of my nipples. Even so, I deliberately adjusted the position of my large breasts, letting my deep red areolas peek out from the edge of the shirt.
Without a bra, my two sensitive and large nipples stood out unabashedly. My smooth, flat abdomen was also exposed, along with my cute little belly button.
The black mini-skirt seemed a size too small; I struggled to zip it up, and my large, plump buttocks were tightly wrapped, outlining a near-perfect shape. This was a true mini-skirt, the hem not even reaching my thighs, exposing half of my buttocks. It was more like a belt around my waist than a skirt. With my lower body almost completely naked, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to bend over. Oh, God! That would be an incredibly exciting scene.
To achieve a head-to-toe alluring sexiness, high heels are indispensable. A pair of crystal platform sandals perfectly complemented my black and white outfit. My beautiful ankles were unencased; the 4-centimeter heels, while inconvenient for walking, beautifully accentuated my arches. The smooth instep beneath the transparent upper revealed two toes with red nail polish peeking out from the tips—sexy and elegant.
Finally, I added a touch of intoxicating perfume.
I gazed intently at my meticulously groomed self in the mirror—mature and captivating, sexy and elegant, alluring yet wanton, almost like a high-class prostitute.
A 42-year-old housewife, a mother of two, had transformed in the blink of an eye into a high-class prostitute, a wanton whore! Unbelievable things had happened to me.
Some say women spend a fifth of their lives on makeup and dressing up, and that's absolutely true. Before I knew it, it was dinnertime.
The same restaurant, ordinary food, my mother and two sons—a seemingly ordinary dinner, yet shrouded in an indescribable atmosphere. A mix of tension and excitement, ambiguity and lewdness, unease and anticipation.
"Oh, babies, there's a salad in the kitchen. Look at my memory."
This was the fourth time I'd gotten up to go to the kitchen. Last time was because I forgot the salt, the time before that was to add soup, and before that… I can't quite remember…
My black miniskirt clung tightly to my bare lower body, and with those 4cm heels on my crystal sandals, getting up was a bit difficult. I slowly pushed the chair away with my large buttocks. I deliberately let my large breasts jiggle violently. How could the meager fabric of my white off-the-shoulder short-sleeved shirt possibly contain my 36E breasts? The thin fabric seemed about to burst, my two large orbs practically spilling out, the deep red areolas peeking out from the neckline. The two boys' eyes hadn't left my body since dinner began. I was genuinely worried they wouldn't be able to digest it.
"Is there anything else you need?"
When I turned around to ask the two brothers, they seemed a little taken aback, their eyes fixed on me like they were under a spell. "Uh...no...we don't need anything, thank you."
I knew there were two pairs of burning eyes staring at my fat buttocks behind me. I deliberately slowed my pace, taking elegant steps, swaying my amazingly large buttocks. My 4-centimeter heels made my buttocks look even more pert. Little rascals, look hard, look hard! Enjoy your mother's big buttocks to your heart's content. I love the possessive look in young people's eyes. I can feel the heat in those eyes because my big buttocks are getting hot, tight, and swollen, making people fantasize. This feeling is amazing!
I carried the poor salad that I had "forgotten" in the kitchen back to the dining room.
Carter and Jack were "wolfing down" their food. Jack mechanically kept putting mashed potatoes into his mouth, even though the plate was empty. I couldn't help but want to burst out laughing, but I held it in.
What's wrong with these kids? Aren't they usually trying every means to take advantage of their mother?
Today, with delicious food right in front of them, they were surprisingly well-behaved. Was my sudden change in attitude too sudden, or was my aggressive approach too intense, leaving the little rascals unable to handle it?
While serving Jack the salad, I deliberately pressed my large buttocks firmly against his strong waist, while my huge breasts pressed against the young man's still somewhat immature face. I slowly slid the fruit salad onto Jack's plate with a spoon, even mischievously bumping my large breasts against Jack's cheek. I could feel the warmth emanating from Jack's face, making my breasts feel cozy. My alluring breasts were so close, the veins around the areolas clearly visible. Jack's breathing quickened noticeably, and his heart raced. I could understand his feelings at that moment, just like when I suddenly discovered my son had ejaculated into my high heels. It
seems my offensive firepower was indeed a bit too strong today. After dinner, I felt like a victorious general. Do you know what it feels like when a 4-year-old woman keeps two young men erect throughout a meal? I was extremely excited.
Yes! The game had only just begun.
After dinner, my mind was still filled with the brothers' embarrassed expressions and their bulging crotches; I was in a state of constant excitement. Perhaps it was the excessive juice I drank at dinner, but a sudden urge to urinate came from my lower abdomen, and I suddenly had a bold idea.
Instead of going to my own bedroom's bathroom, I quietly made my way to the children's bathroom. The door was open, and Carter was brushing his teeth inside. Carter, like many Black people, had a set of pearly white teeth.
"Honey, Mom's toilet seems to be broken. Can I borrow yours?"
My tone was suggestive.
"Of course."
Carter was more experienced and bolder than his brother Jack; his behavior at dinner showed he wasn't as nervous as Jack.
I was wearing 4-centimeter high-heeled sandals, a little slippery on the bathroom floor, and I slowly swayed my ample hips towards the toilet.
Carter finished rinsing his mouth and remained standing in front of the mirror, seemingly unwilling to leave.
He wouldn't leave! Was he going to watch his mother urinate? Oh! My heart started racing. Was I really going to take off my skirt and pee in front of my son? For a moment, I was at a loss. A strong urge to urinate sent a tingling spasm through my lower body, and my plump buttocks under the short skirt involuntarily trembled a few times.
Take it off! Boldly take off your skirt, expose your alluring lower body, and pee in front of this big boy!
Isn't that what you want to do? Don't lose to a little brat.
Hesitation lasted only a moment. I unzipped the side of the skirt and slowly pulled it down. The skirt was tight; taking it off was just as difficult as putting it on. A full minute passed before my large buttocks were completely exposed to Carter's eyes.
"Oh, my god!"
Carter exclaimed involuntarily, looking at his mother's amazingly plump buttocks, though his voice was soft.
"This skirt is a size too small!"
I muttered to myself deliberately. Actually, I was quite satisfied with Carter's expression; the big boy was stunned by his mother's alluring buttocks.
I wasn't wearing any underwear; my skirt was the only cover for my lower body. I pulled it down to my ankles and plopped down on the cold toilet seat. There was some water on the rim, probably the children's urine, and the dampness made me even more excited.
But what excited me most was Carter's burning gaze; my lower body felt like it was melting under his gaze. Urine gushed from my urethra, hitting the toilet bowl with a loud thud.
Some of it sprayed onto my labia, flowing over my genitals, making them warm and wet.
This was the first time I'd urinated in front of someone. I never dreamed I'd be urinating naked in front of my son. Carter was less than half a meter away; I could smell his youthful scent. Even from the side, he could see my bare, upturned buttocks even more clearly, even the deep cleft was visible. If he were standing directly in front of me, he could almost see my genitals as I urinated. Oh, God! This feeling was incredibly exciting.
"Mommy, your butt is so big!"
Carter broke the suffocating silence. Was he teasing me?! Yes! Carter was retaliating, which was exactly what I wanted.
"Baby, is that a compliment or a joke?"
My hands were resting on my knees, my smooth arms clasping my large breasts, my snow-white chest completely exposed outside my clothes, the low-cut front almost hanging on my erect nipples.
"Mom. Of course, it's a compliment! Look at your big, perky ass, it covers the whole toilet."
"Really! Thank you."
Carter's explicit words excited me even more, and I didn't forget to give the big boy a seductive wink. "Have you never seen such a big ass before?"
"No, not! Not even in those adult movies."
Carter swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving his mother's body.
"Oh! Honey, how can you compare your mom to those bitches in adult movies!"
I deliberately emphasized the word "bitch," but without any hint of reproach.
"I'm sorry, Mom, I just meant you're more attractive and sexier than them. They're just a bunch of sluts sticking their asses out waiting to be fucked by big dicks."
This was the first time Carter had used such vulgar language as "slut," "fuck," and "dick" in front of me. It was like a shot of stimulant, stimulating my nerves and making me feel unbearably hot.
I could clearly feel my wet vulva rapidly engorging with blood, my sensitive clitoris erect, my labia thickened with blood, and my vagina overflowing with vaginal fluid. Waves of pleasure surged through my burning lower body.
I intentionally rubbed my large buttocks against the toilet, which made me even more excited; I was losing control.
"Honey, keep going!"
I continued to encourage the boy to say even more explicit and vulgar things. His mother wanted more.
"Mom, you know what? The other day you came to our school wearing a sundress, and all the boys were drawn to your sexy big ass, and...and your big, full breasts. John, who sits in front of me, said...said his dick was about to explode! He also said...said..."
Carter's breathing quickened noticeably; I knew he was just as excited.
"What else did John say?"
I pressed, my lower body twitching uncontrollably. Carter's lewd words were bringing me to the peak of pleasure.
"He said...he said he couldn't wait to shove his rock-hard dick under your skirt right now, he said he wanted to fuck you, Mom, that bastard John said he wanted to fuck you."
Carter deliberately emphasized the word "fuck."
Oh my god! I came! I sat on the toilet, my large buttocks exposed, listening to my son say the dirtiest, most vulgar things, and I came! A torrent of vaginal fluid gushed from my vagina, and intense pleasure surged through my body like an electric shock. I involuntarily jumped up on my tiptoes, my whole body convulsing, my back arching, my full breasts heaving violently, even the nipple of my left breast peeking out.
"Mom, what's wrong with you!"
Carter was clearly startled by my reaction.
"Ah... ah, nothing, I'm just... a little tired."
I gasped for breath, the ridiculous excuse unable to hide the embarrassment after my outburst. "Honey, could I have a tissue?"
I tried to calm myself down from the euphoria of my orgasm.
After the climax, once I calmed down, a shadow fell over my heart. What was I doing? Was I still a normal mother?
I dared not think about the image I had in Carter's eyes. I had actually seduced my own sons, urinated in front of them with my naked ass sticking out, and even orgasmed on the toilet. Ah! Carter must think his mother was a complete slut, an absolute whore.
But blinded by desire, I couldn't care less about anything else.
The moment I took that first step, I surrendered my reason to my body, to my desire.
There was no turning back, so I might as well let it all come on stronger!
I took the tissue Carter offered, leaned forward, lifting my plump buttocks off the toilet bowl, raising them high, and wiped my filthy vulva. It was impossible to distinguish between vaginal fluid and urine; even my inner thighs were soaked with filthy liquid, and my anus was wet.
I wiped my genitals in front of Carter, feeling no shame whatsoever, and deliberately exaggeratedly wiggled my buttocks. The poor boy's eyes practically blazed with fire, his pants taut like Mount Everest. I knew Carter wanted nothing more than to devour his mother.
"Honey, could you give me another tissue? You know, Mommy always gets her vulva all wet when she peees."
Saying such shameful words as "vulva" in front of my child meant nothing to me now. I even deliberately emphasized the word "vagina." I knew this would excite both my son and me immensely.

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Semen in high heels

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