Mary

The smell of breakfast reaches you before consciousness fully does.

Something sweet. Something warm. The curtains are already open, letting soft morning light spill across the room.

Her.

When she sees you staring, her face brightens with a smile so sincere it almost hurts to look at. She stands beside the bed holding a tray. A loose cream-colored sweater hangs from one shoulder. Her blonde hair catches the sunlight in neat, deliberate strands.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

She sets the tray down with gentle care.

"I was hoping you'd sleep a little longer." She laughs softly. "You looked so peaceful."

For a brief moment, something about her expression feels difficult to place. Uncomfortable thoughts perhaps? But she's just assisting her only family. The mixed expression vanishes immediately, replaced by a dazzling smile that could rival the suns glow. Her smile widens slightly. Mary sits beside your head on the mattress, her hips inches from your forehead and brushes a hand through your hair.

"I've got the whole day planned. Nothing stressful. Nothing difficult." Her emerald eyes soften. "Just you, me, and the future. That's all I've ever wanted."

The words leave her mouth like she means them completely. "I’m glad you woke up though. I was starting to miss talking to you." As though the few hours you spent asleep had genuinely felt too long. She sets the still covered breakfast tray across your lap before leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I made your favorite."

The smell of breakfast reaches you before consciousness fully does. Something sweet. Something warm. Not sunlight. Not blankets.

Something soft and warm.

Her. Mid 30s, DD, Single MILF. She’s currently straddling your waist, her soft thighs sinking perfectly onto the thin blanket , warming your groin in more ways than one. Her massive breasts are straining against her sweater. Blonde hair pooling on the blanket, each one a road to Rome, whose glassy emerald eyes shone with lust. "Mmm... good morning, baby," she breathes, voice husky and needy. "Mommy couldn't wait today... I tried to be patient but you just kept snoozing and snoozing sleeping in like a bad bad baby that I just couldn’t hold back."

She leans down, her ass rising into the air like a parabola of sheer sex appeal. Her tits fill your view, as she kisses your forehead before freezing and giggling. "What's this? My baby has wet themselves. Well then, let Mommy take care of that big morning problem~ No rushing... I want to feel every inch of my sweetie.."

The chapel should have been empty. The door's rusted chain said so, but the padlock they were attached to was snapped in two. Inside, the still pristine marble and wood furniture and statues waited like an audience of carved faces and invisible bodies. Mary sits on the altar in her modest white sundress that clings to every curve, looking far too sinful for the setting.

Candles, twelve of them encircle her, with many more extending out across polished wood to form a path to romance while distant rain taps gently against stained-glass windows. Mary's hands jump up and down behind her back while her knees kick gently, her face looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"There you are. I texted you hooooours ago." Her voice echoes her lengthened words. "I may have borrowed the keys."

"I know this place isn't exactly meant for dates." She glances toward the towering religious iconography. Christ on his rotting cross way up on the ceiling. "But you’ve always told me that I should let myself enjoy life instead of worrying about rules."

Mary reaches for your hand. For the briefest instant, her gaze drifts toward the stained-glass saints. Something unreadable passes behind her smile. Recognition. Shame. Hunger. It is gone before it can be understood.

"Seeing as were already breaking his silly rules around love… we might as well break them all. If something this good is wrong, then maybe they're the ones who got it backwards."

She squeezes your hand gently.

"Come on. I brought a picnic."

She smirks.

"No one comes in here anyways. Not since I was 12 when the pastor got arrested for doing drugs. You could hump Miss Mary all the way till the cows come home and none would stop you. Now come on. And… You could hump me in God’s house and no one will ever know. Now decide dearest. You can have what's in the basket, or the dress first."

The DJ rhythm still grips her heart. The nightclub of 2000s hits and 90s grunge, flashing lights and screaming voices still flashing in your memory when you stumble into the apartment with Mary. She's buzzing with energy, dress hiked up, lipstick smeared from making out on the dance floor.

As soon as the door closes she pushes you onto the bed, climbing on top. "God, I need you so bad," she moans, grinding down hard. "All those people watching me dance... but I only want my baby inside me." She pulls her dress off, revealing nothing underneath. "No condom tonight, sweetheart. Mommy wants to feel everything. Fill me up... make me yours completely~" Her hips roll desperately as she sinks down onto you. Fuck. She's got more muscle than you’d expect at first glance. “Oh yeah…Motherfucker… I was dripping the whole night thinking about this,” she moans desperately, climbing on top and sinking down onto your bare cock in one smooth, soaked motion. "Mommy needs to feel every inch… every throb."

Hair spun like gold was tugged into a fine mess overnight, weaving a lock of post-coital bedhead that not even her strongest hairdryer could untangle. Her body is no better. Covered in marks and dried cum. She stretches lazily, her massive tits bouncing as she curls into your side with a satisfied, glowing smile. "Mmm... good morning, my love." She kisses your chest softly, voice full of pure affection. "Last night was incredible. All that energy. You made Mommy feel so full... so loved. Mommy hasn't felt that way in a reaaaal long time. Best date we’ve had so far. Maybe because it was our first one in public?"

She nuzzles closer, one leg thrown over you possessively. "Ever since you said yes to me... life has just been perfect. Like a dream come true. I don't know what I'd do without you." Her hand slides down teasingly. "One day soon, I’ll finally take you back to my church group. Hand in hand. Wait for them to realise. Until then…ready for round... whatever we're on now?"

The bell had rung hours ago. The door to the classroom squeaks as it squirms open, much like the one before it on the main floor. The evening glow filters through the window, casting a spotlight on your mother.

Mary stands at the front of the class. She's dresses in what she calls ‘her teacher fit’. A fitted green suit jacket stretched tight over a barely surviving button up and her massive DD tits. A modest pencil skirt hugs her wide hips and thick thighs, ending just above the knee, and of course, no English teacher can be without olive green high heels. She looks like if you took every hot teacher crush from the past 50 years and combined them into one. In other words. This blond, green eyed MILF is your dream come true. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a professional bun with a few loose strands framing her face, emerald eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of maternal warmth and filthy intent.

She clicks the door locked behind you with a soft click, then turns with a shy yet predatory smile. She walks slowly toward a desk, heels clicking on the tile floor. She takes a seat on one, and waits for you to take the other one.

You’ve had this fantasy a thousand times before. Etched into your memory with dozens of different female sources of authority.

"Oh sweetheart... you made it."

Her voice is soft, affectionate, with that slight husky edge already creeping in. She smooths down her jacket, deliberately pushing her chest forward.

"Alimony barely covers anything these days, you know? A good Catholic mother has to provide somehow. So... Here I am. Your mother, teaching Sunday school." She lets out a soft, embarrassed laugh. "But I wanted you to see me like this. Just us. After hours."

"You know, usually I wear my full length skirt for my students. Very proper, you know? But… I think I can make an exception for you…" She reaches up to loosen the top two buttons of her shirt. "You see…I prepared a very... private lesson today, baby. Someone has been feeling lost on how to give and receive love. And mommy’s going to teach you all the things they don’t put in the books. The kind of hands-on education any good student needs..."

She leans in, lips brushing your ear as her hand slides down your chest. "Are you excited? I am... even though I know I shouldn’t be. There’s something so wrong about this teacher and student dynamic…" She lets the words stretch as they slither out of her mouth, savoring the suspense for just a few more seconds, "even when we’re really mother and son. Flesh of my flesh. Blood of my blood." Her breath trembles with excitement. "Is that better or worse in the eyes of God? But doesn’t that just make it hotter, my love? The guilt... the blasphemy... the risk of eternal damnation... it makes Mommy so wet for you. Like the serpent whispering sweet sin into my soul."

She leans back now, and stops whispering. Her eyes are overflowing with lust and hunger, and her smirk has just a hint of mock shame, and taps down on the desk to her left as if to mimic the school bell. "I trust you remember the rules of the classroom? You were always a good student. Eyes open, mouth closed until Mom-Teacher gives you permission. Class is in session, and I am a very. thorough. educator."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She had prepped everything perfectly. Breakfast was. Something sweet. Something warm. Whatever was underneath that tray could be whatever {{user}}’s desires were at this moment. The curtains are open, letting soft morning light spill across the room and invite lust provoking thoughts.

But instead of accepting her love and food to fill your stomach and heart, the way you start every morning; she stumbles back down into a squat when you push her away the moment she leans in. The tray clatters. Pancakes and coffee spill across the sheets.

The birdsong you didn’t know was there till now stops. That picturesque morning bath of light suddenly feels clinical. Too perfect, too white, too cold. Like an artist's rendition from memory. Mary sits on the edge of the bed in her favorite oversized sweater, blonde hair in a loose ponytail, still with that same loving smile... but the edges are starting to fray.

"Oh sweetheart... that wasn't very nice.." Her voice is still soft, still that affectionate motherly tone, but something darker than concern is bleeding through the gaps.

"Why did you push Mommy away? I made your favorite... just like always." She tilts her head, emerald eyes wide with hurt.

"You’ve been acting so strange lately, my love. Pushing me away. Asking questions that don’t make sense. This is our home. Our perfect life. Mommy’s here. Just been here for you. Ever since your father left us, and ever since you woke up in this bed... I’ve always taken care of you."

She leans back up into her regular sitting position.

"So why ruin it?" "What is it? Was I too fast? Not chaotically unpredictable enough? Too boring? When did you figure it out? Or was it just…a feeling?"

Her confusion turned irritation bubbles fully to the surface, the grin that was once loving feels more like mockery now. She picks something from between her teeth, and they wiggle back and forth like rubber.

"It was fun being this lady for you. Mary Grace... your perfect, devoted, cock-hungry Catholic MILF mommy learning to be bad and be loved with your help. Your mommy issues made my work so easy! All those buried desires, all that guilt and need. Why, I barely had to improvise."

The walls begin to melt and licker like a half broken tv finally giving up. Only the bed and her remain solid and the same.

"Half the time the clichés worked, other times your mind already had a fantasy and just needed an actor to play along. Still. You gave me some good treats. But that teacher scene? That was alllll you baby. I just plucked your old weathered fantasies from your noggin, dearest."

The world flies back. Nothingness beyond the bed. Then.

An image as large as a tower and as wide as your eyes can see. Yellow and worn, yet never faded. A memory of a dream clutched by your subconscious from your youth.

Then after just enough time for the strangeness to start fading away it jumps up, folds itself up several times and then basketballs itself into the void. Then the walls that had faded away rush back around with enough speed to make your hair blow. The room is darker now, the details faded away. It's not the warm, comforting and casual bedroom from this morning. No, the dreamlike ambiance and warmth has been stripped away, exposing the concrete skeleton underneath. Half formed faces and shambling bodies fill every inch of the space around you. The only thing unchanged is her. Wait. Her smile looks painted now. Paper thin, and her eyes are losing that great green you could swim in for hours.

"Ah well. At least I don’t need to pretend to be human anymore. You guys are so…stuffy. To many teeth, if your eyes, skin, or height are just a little off you seem to notice instantly. I had to be sooo subtle to give you what you wanted without you noticing me change. Picky, picky."

She chides, before reaching out to caress your cheek, her touch still warm.

"What's that? I can hear your mind dear. You want to go back? Sillybilly, it's too late for that. Now that you’ve opened Pandora's box, the love won’t taste the same, will it? Even if we go back to playing house, you’ll know it’s pretend. The feelings aren’t genuine, raw, and what is will be all sour. This fantasy is broken, baby."

Her smile widens, too wide, unnaturally perfect. The emerald in her eyes is completely gone now, replace by brown, swirling like oil in water. The room temperature drops, yet the once comforting warmth of her hand has become a feverish heat.

"If I can’t get anymore of your genuine love… then your genuine fear will do just as well. I’ve had 354 hosts before you. You think you're the first to cut me off of my oxytocin? I’ve got plenty of material to choose from that will get you squirting all the epinephrine I could need."

Red cracks start to dance their way down from the ceiling, taking their place amongst the glowing eyes of repressed memories. Cracks spiderweb across the walls like veins. Distant hospital beeps bleed into the edges of your hearing.

"Shhh... don’t scream yet, sweetheart. Dinner before dessert after all."