Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 One night, during lovemaking, I called Denise "mommy." She smiled as if
having expected it.  It only made sense.  I, at 34, was 15 years her
junior. She must have guessed from my preoccupation with her breasts.  As
couples do, we explored various fantasies together.  Something about this
fantasy so intrigued her that she steered me in the direction of it.  We
weren't living together, only saw each other a few nights a week.  She
asked me to take some nude photos of her for myself one night, for when I
missed her.  Mostly, she had me photograph her breasts.  At home, I would
pull up the pictures on my computer screen and let them run in a slideshow,
repeating, "Mommy.  Denise.  Mommy.  Denise," as I touched myself,
purposefully trying to wire the two together.  I began to use the word more
and more, talking on the phone with her, over dinner.  The nature of our
relationship changed.  I became much weaker with her, unashamedly so.  One
night we went upstairs and I saw her dildo on the bed.  I picked it up.

   "I have lube for that," she said.  "Even the kind that would help you."
And there it was, on the pillow, a bottle of anal lube.  She wanted to
watch me at first, said she wanted me to find out what I liked.  I took it
home with me and found out what I liked.  I also found out that I was a
screamer.  I asked her and she took me to an adult novelty store where she
patted my butt as we looked through the collection of strap-ons.  Getting
fucked in my "shitter" or "love tunnel" or, after she hinted that she
wanted my pubes shaved, my "little boy pussy" became a regular part of sex.
As did breast feeding, which induced lactation in her.  She loved for me to
fall asleep quietly sucking her nipple as she stroked my hair.

   Still, there was something about "Mommy" and "Denise" that overlapped in
a rough sort of way.  Then one night, after an argument two days before, I
lay in her arms, staring at her face, and it all made sense.  "Denise" and
"Mommy" meant the same thing.  There was no denying it.  The way she held
me, the warmth of her love driving every sensation from my body, filling me
with her, as her cock was inside me.  I began to babble and stammer,
telling her that I had been born from her pussy, that she was a source of
life to me.

   Things changed more.  Straight sex became rare.  I was intimidated by
her pussy, fearful it would melt my cock and that her juice would fuse us.
It took on such significance.  The need in me screamed out to her as though
she were my god.  And her pussy . . .  performing oral sex became an act of
worship.  Mommy loved it.  I would slide my tongue around and into her
beautiful, corrupted Eden and pray as I expressed each emotion with my
mouth as they dawned over me.  Slow, beautifully intimate love.



   One night, she asked me to stay chaste for her.  Six days, she said.  It
was strangely pleasant, the self torture.  The fifth night, I came home to
my condo and ground out my usual evening routine.  When I made it upstairs
four hours later, Denise was in my bed.  She put her book on the nightstand
and lifted up the blanket to reveal her bare breasts.  I dove into bed with
her and wrapped an arm around her, clutching desperately to her back.  My
mouth found her nipple and I voraciously fed on her milk.  She gently
stroked my eyebrows, even my eye lashes and I began to calm, slowly
sucking, feeling safe and warm, not a thought in my head, making little
gurgling whines as I slurped at her breast: "Mommy, I, you want . . . .  so
good, Denise. . . .  mine. . .  mommy, I love." When my dick began to grow
hard, I apologized, ashamed.  "Mommy, Denise, I'm sorry.  You shouldn't, I
shouldn't.  I fucking need you, mommy." Taking a final few slurps at her
nipple as she pulled away, I looked pleadingly up at her.  "I want to cum,
mommy.  Fuck, I know."



   "Wait right there," she said and moved over to the dresser.  She pulled
out a harnessed dildo and stared at me.  "I want to sheathe my cock in your
boy pussy." She motioned for me.  I stood up and grasped the edge of the
dresser.  She moved behind me and thrust into me with one long stroke.  She
fucked me brutally.  I was trapped, in pain, unable to get away, impaled,
and so at home and in my place.  I began to moan as the ass-fucking
continued, even screaming as she fucked me through my contracting shit
tunnel.  I begged for everything.  "Stop mommy.  You don't want to fuck
your baby, do you.  Mommy?  God, I love your cock.  Denise, be my fucking,
my fucking . . .  " I didn't know the word.  "You soul stealing demon."
Still the hard thrusts came and I began to scream "Mommy" and "Denise."
When, finally, this too passed, when my dirty love tunnel offered no
resistance to her pounding cock, she began to slow and I began to move with
her in a sensuous rhythm, making love.  I drifted off into another world
where I was dimly aware of her thrusting dick but mostly wrapped in warmth,
adrift in the beauty and pleasure of her making love to my shit hole.  At
one point, she buried herself in me to the hilt and held there.



   "Mommy knew me.  Love.  Take me back to heaven." As she slid slowly out,
I let out a long mewling moan.  "Nobody needs me."



   "I do, baby," she responded with several thrusts of even tempo. 
Suddenly I knew.  It had clicked in her head too.  I was her baby.  The
love making continued for twenty minutes until I stopped groaning and
sagged.  She pulled out of me and a stream of lube fell to the floor.  I
turned and unbuckled her cock.  Denise sat down on the edge of the bed and
I knelt between her legs, her lips parted.  I ran my tongue round them and
began to offer prayers to her cunt, slow confessions of love and need that
expressed emotions and desires, mumbling secrets and words of worship till
finally she clutched my head and came on my face.



   "Get up," she said.  I did, and lay back on the bed.



   She lay between my legs and took my dick into her mouth.  Unable to get
hard after being fucked so long and so well, I let her suck gently on me,
excited beyond belief at the chance to cum.  If she would let me.  I didn't
cum though.  We stared into each other's eyes as intermittent spurts of
semen spat forth from my dick, which she swallowed, until at last I was too
sore to give her more.



   "You're mine," she said, crawling back to the pillow.  And I knew it.  I
felt completely and truly possessed.



   "Mommy, will you leave me now?"


   "Never," she promised.