Smuggler's Gold
Chapter 1

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Slavery, Humor, Incest, Mother, Son, MaleDom, Harem, Pregnancy, Violent,

Desc: Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A small-time smuggler, Antal lives on the fringes of society in a minor backwater port somewhere in the Empire. While not exactly a cruel man he isn’t a saint and has his own issues with lust and revenge. He’s happy with how his life is going but outside forces, including the mysterious and dangerous Herceg and a bevy of women seem bound and determined to screw with it. Not a sequel to the story Ascension but comes from the same universe and a few of the characters overlap here and there.

He pried apart the cheeks of her ass with one hand while reaching for the jug of olive oil with the other. She was on her knees, head buried in the mattress, her ass up in the air. He had taken her this way every time since first coming to own her just over two weeks before. It wasn't that he didn't like fucking face to face ― he liked it just fine ― but he wanted her to know that he was in control here. She was his to do as he saw fit.

The oil had been a necessity ― well not so much a necessity as a small kindness ― although she didn't realize it at the time. She was always dry when he took her and although his plan was to ensure her complete submission it didn't include excessive or unnecessary pain. The sex was a necessary part of that plan, an extremely pleasurable part of that plan as far as he was concerned but he had no desire to have her associate pain with his pleasure. It was his hope that sooner or later she would also begin to feel pleasure from their coupling. A willing and enthusiastic participant was much more desirable than an unwilling and recalcitrant one and he was prepared to take as long as it took to achieve that goal. This time it looked like maybe, just maybe, his plan was actually working.

Under the small brown crinkled star of her anus he could see the soft, fleshy lips of her cunt; it looked like they were actually moist! Ignoring the jug of oil he brought his hand back to gently trace those lips with the tip of his finger and smiled, they were damp! Slowly he wormed the tip of his finger inside her and felt her body shiver although she didn't try to pull away like she had the first few times he had explored her. She was wet, not gushing wet but wet nonetheless.

"I think someone is starting to enjoy this," he mused out loud.

"No," came the muffled reply.

"Really? That's not what your body's telling me."

She didn't answer as he slowly worked his finger in and out, her natural lubrication wetting his finger more with each plunge. Bending down and craning his neck up he let his tongue lightly lap at the exposed lips while still moving his finger deeper and deeper into her center. He found the taste of her hairless lips exquisite, a heady blend of musk and perspiration; she whimpered but didn't say anything. At this angle his neck was getting sore so drawing back he lightly slapped her on one ass cheek and said, "Turn over, on your back." She gave a small sob and complied. What else could she do? Her hands were still bound and besides he had the legal right to do with her whatever he pleased.

She rolled to her back and he gently but firmly pushed her legs apart until her quim was fully exposed to his gaze. Dropping down again he began to lick at her open slit, his rasping tongue softly caressing her blood-engorged lips, dipping deeper to sample the juices her treasonous body began making even more copiously. No man had ever done this to her and she squeezed her eyes shut, the inherent feeling of wrongness on so many levels battling with the new sensations emanating from her groin.

The feeling was extremely pleasant and her legs involuntarily splayed even farther apart opening her up even more to his gentle ministrations. The sensations increased as he delved deeper, his tongue touching every part of her channel it could reach. She fought to control her sounds of pleasure valiantly until the tip of his tongue rubbed the engorged button located at the top of her slit; then she gasped out loud and her bound hands came up to rest on the top of his head, not to push away but with fingers entwined in his short hair to pull him down into her even harder.

"Oh, Powers!" she groaned as her hips bucked up into his mouth, she had lost all conscious control over her body. "Oh, Lords!" she repeated as he took her nub between his teeth and gently nipped it. Suddenly a sensation completely new raced through her body freezing her in a stiff rigor of pleasure and blanking everything else from her mind. She whined loudly, hands pulling him in even tighter as her legs lifted trapping his head in the smooth vise of her thighs.

It was some minutes before she recovered from the first orgasm she had experienced in her thirty-six years of life. Even as her head cleared she felt his insistent prodding and she again rolled over and lifted her ass into the air as his unspoken instructions demanded. Eyes closed and face pressed firmly into the pillow of the bed they shared she felt his hands gently grasp her inner thighs and firmly move her legs apart spreading her pussy lips and opening her up for his use. His hands moved to her hips and the next thing she felt was the spongy head of his cock pressing against her lewdly splayed opening.

"No, Antal," she protested weakly but offering no other resistance.

"Yes, Ilona," he said firmly as he started to push his way into her wet embrace.

Initially she didn't know who her new master was when she was first bought. He'd had her bound at the wrists and hooded before he led her through the busy streets of Eregli. In some part she was glad to be hooded even though it caused her to stumble over the uneven cobblestones of the street. She'd lived in Eregli all her life and the thought of her neighbors and friends seeing her reduced to bondage was one less thing she had to bear for the moment.

They had come for her and the house less than a week after Janos, her husband, had died. A grossly fat man thirty years her senior, he had passed suddenly while enjoying the pleasures of a young boy at one of the local whorehouses. Ilona was his second wife as he was her second husband. She had felt compelled to remarry four years after her first husband died at sea during a fishing expedition. Janos's preference for young boys was never an issue. He needed a wife to manage his household and be the hostess for the many formal and informal gatherings and parties he gave in the furtherance of what she believed was a thriving trading venture. Her first marriage had been arranged by her parents and, although loveless, was comfortable. Never having felt the touch of a true lover's hand she missed the sexual aspect of her second union not at all. Her only regret was her son, eight years old at the time of his father's death and twelve when they came to live with Janos, never forgave her for the marriage. He left abruptly when he reached the age of sixteen and she hadn't seen or heard from him in the four years since.

After Janos' death it became quickly apparent the trading business was much less solvent then Ilona had believed and the creditors descended almost before the body was cold and decently burned. As his wife, Ilona was held responsible for her late husband's debts and when the sale of the business assets, including their house, could not meet the obligations, the local court quickly ordered her sold into slavery to satisfy the remainder. Within days she had been auctioned, sold and her new master came to claim her.

Hooded, she could only hear the laughter and jeers of her former neighbors as she was led along the winding streets. Presently she was guided out of the hot afternoon sun into the cool of her new home. She heard a door closing behind her and just as quickly she was pushed another few steps into the room and roughly bent over the back of something with padding, a chair, she assumed. She cried out once as her arms were yanked down and securely fastened. She couldn't move them and her feet could no longer touch the floor as she perched precariously over the back of the furniture. Again she cried out as her short slave tunic was pushed up over her bare ass but a sharp smack on her exposed bottom cut short the protest.

She had no time to think as the cheeks of her ass were pried apart and a finger prodded her bone-dry cunt. Her assailant grunted once and shortly the finger returned this time coated with something slippery. Her master swathed a great deal of this lubricant around and in her cunt before the finger left her. She heard the rustle of clothing from behind and suddenly what could only be a cock had replaced the finger and began to slowly but firmly drive into her. She felt only a little pain but no pleasure as the invading monster slowly filled her until its spongy head nestled up against the rubbery hardness of her cervix. She could only grunt as the fleshy invader began its slow sawing into her body.

Ilona had never derived pleasure from sex and this time was no different. This was little more than her new master demonstrating he had complete control, using her for his own pleasure and confirming her new status in the world.

It didn't take long before her master quickened his motion, fucking into her firmly without any regard for her comfort. At last he thrust deep and expelled his seed into the mouth of her womb, giving a satisfied grunt as he did. Standing motionless for a few minutes, hands grasping her hips, his softening cock finally slipped from her gooey sheath and he patted her bottom as one would a favorite pet. Soon her still-bound hands were released and she was pulled back to stand upright. The hood was pulled off her head and she was finally able to see the face of her new master.

"Antal!" she screamed.

"Yes, Ilona," he said as he pushed slowly into her.

"This is so wrong, Antal," she whispered. She said the same thing every time he took her which was sometimes as often as three times a day. "I'm your mother."

"You're my slave," he grinned as he bottomed out, the head of his cock bumping up against her cervix. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with what we're doing." He began the slow in and out thrusting he normally did. But this time it was different, this time he wasn't using the olive oil to assist their coupling, this time it was her own natural oils easing the mating.

"I think you like this," he persisted.

"No," she protested weakly gasping and then moaning as he jabbed a short hard thrust into her.

"Why can't you admit you like it?" he asked never changing his pace.

"Because it's wrong," she sighed.

"Our Herceg's first wife is his mother," Antal pointed out. The Herceg was the local equivalent of a duke or governor of the province. It was their custom that royalty take their mothers as first wives when they ascend to their positions. "The emperor's first wife is his mother. Can it be wrong for me to take my mother for my first?"

"We aren't royalty," she answered through gritted teeth. His constant thrusting was driving her up the plane to another orgasm. "And I am your slave, not your wife."

"You are my woman," he grunted and began to quicken his thrusts. "You will always be the first woman in my life and will always be mine." He stopped talking and began to seriously mount her as she grunted beneath him bringing them both closer to their release. Finally as they both approached their peaks he thrust deeply one last time and began to spew his seed into her waiting womb just as she crested and her body began to shake with the release of her orgasm.

"Why, Antal?" she asked again after they had been resting for a while.

"Why what?" he lazed as he nuzzled her neck. She was lying on her side with her son spooned up behind her, one arm possessively around her chest his hand cupping a breast.

"Why do you insist on fucking me?" she persisted. "Do you hate me that much?"

"I don't hate you," he insisted. "Well, not anymore, anyway. I hated you when you married that asshole. There was no reason for that; we were doing fine. We still had some money and I was old enough to start working on the boats. We would have had plenty to live on and if you needed a man in your life I could have taken care of that too."

"It wasn't that at all," she insisted. "It seemed like that best choice at the time." Grunting, she continued, "Looking back, I suppose it wasn't the best choice I could have made."

"Not for you, maybe," he said giving her breast a gentle squeeze. "And certainly not for me at the time either, but right now it sure turned out just fine for me. I think you actually enjoyed it today and I think the more we do it the more you'll enjoy it."

"That's not the point," she persisted. "I'm still your mother and boys shouldn't bed their mothers."

"Who says?" he snorted. "Tell that one to the Emperor, and Milklos has been fucking his mother for years ever since that needle-dicked father of his couldn't get it up. She sure hasn't been complaining."

"Milklos' mother is nothing but a slut," Ilona retorted. "She'd bed anything on two legs and some with four."

"So? You're my slut now and sooner or later you're going to realize that the only place my cock belongs is in your cunt."

"You should have a wife of your own," she said changing tactics. "A pretty young wife that can give you children and a home to come back to. What could you possibly want with an old woman like me?"

"You are beautiful, and still young," he said lazily, his fingers playing idly with her stiffening nipples. "You should have been mine four years ago and now you're where you belong. You should have been my woman when I turned sixteen; you should have waited. You should have given yourself to me, but no, instead I had to put up with you being fondled by that fat bastard. You know I even had to threaten him with a knife to keep him from fucking my ass?"

"I am so sorry, Antal," she whispered turning to lay her head on his hairy chest, tears running down her cheeks to drip into the dark furry mat. "If I had only known..."

"What would you have done?" he demanded. "He was your husband. Everything that was yours was his, even me. What would you have done? Left him? He would just send the peacekeepers to find and drag us back. I kept him away from me. He knew if he touched me again I'd cut his little balls off and stuff them down his throat. You couldn't do anything."

"I am so sorry," she whimpered again. "Please, are you going to keep punishing me forever?"

"Punish you?" he mused. "I suppose it is a punishment of a sort, but that's not why I bought you. I loved you, Ilona. Loved you and wanted you from the time I understood there was a difference between boys and girls and now I have you. In fact I still love you. You are my mother but you are now my woman and soon you will realize that and grow to love me as your man."

"I do love you, Antal," she protested. "With all my heart, I do love you. But we should not be ... lovers. I don't love you like that."

"You will," he said confidently. "You will and if not then at least I have what I want and that's all that matters."

As the days came and went, Ilona realized that life as her son's slave wasn't all that much different than being a fisherman's wife, or even a rich man's wife for that matter. She cooked and cleaned, shopped for the groceries and whatever else was needed for their household. The first few days in the marketplace were difficult. She endured the taunts of former friends and the sellers in their stalls but that passed quickly. Soon she hardly noticed the thin metal slave collar around her neck and those she dealt with seemed to do the same.

It had to be common knowledge that her own son was bedding her but the taunts and recriminations she expected never materialized. It would seem Antal was correct: Nobody cared. It was just a man using his slave as was expected. She soon came to realize that he was probably also correct that nobody would have cared if she had been bedding him even if she hadn't been his slave. Outside of royalty it wasn't a common practice, but it wasn't completely unknown. Again people had better things to worry about.

His attentions were fairly continuous and relentless. It was difficult to pretend she didn't enjoy his frequent use of her body. Although she tried to never let him know, it was fairly obvious he wasn't fooled by her weak and almost automatic protests. The fact was he was never rough with her and always did his best to make her orgasm during their intercourse which was by now almost as frequent as her protests. The only time he left her alone was during his frequent "business trips" or when she hurt from cramping during her monthly flows. At first when she discovered he would let her be if she felt bad, she considered feigning illness more often but now she didn't even consider it.

Other than being used frequently as a vigorous young man is apt to do ― although no more often than any other young bride would expect ― being her son's slave was not unpleasant. She even derived some small status and respectability from being of his household. After all, her son was one of the most prosperous smugglers along their section of coast and, in their niche in society, smugglers were well respected and approved of.

"Why do you do it, Antal?" she would ask. "It's so dangerous. You know what the penalty would be if you are caught." He did: It was death.

"And what isn't dangerous?" was always his answer with a snort. "Fishing? Tell that to my father. All I know is the sea and what else would earn me the money I get for moving a little cargo past the Herceg's docks? Besides, all the decent fishing grounds have been claimed by the big families since forever. I suppose I could earn enough for us to starve slowly rather than quickly but starving is still starving.

"Oh, it's not the taxes," he had elaborated when she asked him why he didn't do the safe thing and move his cargo through the dock as required. The ten-percent duty was stiff but not so onerous that risking one's life would be worth avoiding them. "I'd pay the taxes without even thinking about it if that were the all of it," he responded. "It's the bribes I can't afford. I don't begrudge our lord and master the one in ten he demands ― not much anyway. There needs to be some tax income if for no other reason than for the upkeep of the docks and warehouses. Even I know that and so long as everyone pays the same, it keeps everything competitive among us shippers.

"No, it's the three-in-ten or four-in-ten the damned Customs Master and his gang of thieves gouge on each shipment that makes it impossible," he said shaking his head. "I'd lose money each time I pulled into port if I had to pay that."

"But how can anyone do it then?" she'd asked. "The big ships still pull into Eregli regularly. If they can make a profit, why can't you?"

"Ah, there's the problem," he muttered. "They don't pay the same in bribes that we with smaller bottoms have to. [In the lexicon of merchant shipping the term "bottom" is used interchangeably with "ship."] I've heard the larger merchants have been able to negotiate their bribes down to only an additional one-in-ten and even with that you may not have noticed, but there is far less trade coming through Eregli than just three years ago. Since the old Herceg died and his son took over, the corruption that had been creeping into the system has pretty much taken over.

"The idiots!" he snorted. "All you hear is them screaming about how smuggling is strangling trade and how their revenues are down to almost nothing. That part I don't doubt, although I wouldn't be surprised if a good bit of what little they do collect is being siphoned off into someone's pocket, too. It isn't the smuggling that's doing it. There aren't enough of us to make that big a difference. I know for a fact, I and the rest of my cohorts don't move even a tenth of the trade that used to come through Eregli.

"Sure it's good profit but I figure we're moving just enough to keep the upriver villages from starving and not much more. As small as my boats are, I can't carry even a twentieth of what one of the big merchants can. The Customs Master is choking the life's breath out of Eregli and every village surrounding it, just as sure as if he tightened the garrote with his own hand.

"Why do you think we smugglers are as well liked as we are? We're performing a service for the people around here. Admittedly we charge a pretty bronze nail for bringing the goods in and out but it's still a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to get it through the regular shippers. Shit! Almost nobody here in Eregli can afford what's brought in through the docks. Most of that is going straight to Corum. They're the only ones that can afford it." Corum was the provincial capital and the Herceg's seat. Eregli had once been a reasonably prosperous mid-sized seaport but it had never been as rich as Corum and was much less so now.

"I worry about you," Ilona admitted. "What if they catch you? I understand the Herceg has increased patrols in the delta."

"He has," Antal confirmed. "But for the most part they're from the naval docks in Batumi. They don't know the delta and the channels like we do and I know them better than most of the others."

Ilona had learned about Antal's life after leaving Janos' house following their reunion. She knew it had been almost impossible to keep him in the house from the moment they had moved in. Even as a twelve-year-old boy he had been out on the waters in his father's old leaky fishing scow. He'd come home only when absolutely necessary and would often be gone for days at a time. At the time it had bothered her to distraction but other than restraining him, there was very little she could do about it. Now that she knew at least part of the reason he avoided Janos' house, she felt guilty for not being able to protect him.

Consequently he had spent the better part of his youth sailing the coastal waters in and around Eregli and poling the heavy wooden craft up into the various channels and estuaries where larger ships couldn't go because of their draft. His youthful adventures benefited him in two very important ways. First, he came to know the ways and means that would later help him avoid the Customs Master's agents in moving goods up and down the river. In fact he came to know them so well he could easily find his way through them even at night under a black moon. Which was good since that was when he normally did his "business" traveling past the Eregli docks.

Second, the vigorous activities led to a physical development of remarkable proportions. Antal was not a tall man. He tended toward his father in that respect and would be considered just short of average if one were feeling generous on any given day. However, his height served merely to accentuate his muscular development which was considerable enough to be considered almost unnatural to some. What struck one about Antal at first sight were the shoulders that seemed to be made for a much larger man. They were broad and covered with slabs of muscle as was his stomach and back. If that weren't impressive enough the sight of his bulging biceps and forearms of corded muscle that appeared about to burst through the taut overlaying skin each time they flexed would be. While the rumor he could squeeze water from a stone was pure myth, the fact that he could bend solid rods of bronze the width of a finger into actual knots like they were soft rope was not. He had done it often enough for the entertainment of his fellow smugglers.

His body didn't resemble the statues of gods and athletes found at the city's arena with their torsos narrowing from broad shoulders to narrow and well defined waists. No, his was built more like a building block dropping almost vertically to hips that sat atop heavily muscled legs. He had a pleasant enough face, neither homely nor overly pretty and would be taken for any common laborer while covered with a tunic or cloak. It was only when he stripped to his shorts for heavy work that he looked more like a bull forced into man form than a normal village or city dweller.

His strength was one reason he never bothered to learn how to use a sword. Given the situations he usually found himself in, he found the lead-weighted cudgel he always carried or the thick push-pole half again as tall as he was to be far more useful. If it came to really close-in nasty work there was always his sailor's knife, half as long as his forearm and sharp enough to cut through sharkskin like a hot wire through soft cheese. More than a few self-appointed share-the-wealth ruffians had had their heads split open, arms broken or guts slit to make the point to those who knew him that just because he didn't carry a sword didn't mean he wasn't as dangerous as a sea snake.

His career as a smuggler hadn't begun until he'd left Janos' house for the final time when he turned sixteen. His first few runs had been made alone as he carried grain, metal goods and livestock from Silifke, a small island two hours sail from Eregli and under the authority of another of the Empire's many Hercegs, upriver to Sile, a moderately-sized village half a day's march from Eregli.

He did this three times a week for two months avoiding only the nights when the moon shone full in cloudless skies until he earned enough to trade in his father's old fishing scow and buy a true smuggler's boat. Six times longer than he was tall; broad of beam and shallow of draft, it handled like a pig in open waters under sail but sat low to the water and was able to navigate the shallow channels required to circumvent the main river channel covered by Customs agents. Taking on a small crew of boyhood friends, he quickly grew his trade until he now operated four small vessels and carried a respectable portion of the contraband moved in the area. He carried a mixture of regular consignment goods ordered from either end of his route or speculative merchandise he could pick up as it became available. He had a good business sense and if it had been economically feasible would probably have been a fairly prosperous legitimate merchant shipper.

It was his prosperity that allowed him to buy his mother after Janos' death and the subsequent collapse of his stepfather's trading house. His first thought had been to extract a humiliating and public revenge on his mother who he believed had abandoned him for the privileged life with the rich pervert. He had told Ilona the truth: He had desired her as a woman ever since his body told him there was something different and wonderful about women. He had grown up with the stories of the Emperor, the Herceg and other royals who as a matter of course married and bedded their mothers when they ascended to their positions. If they could, then why not he?

Antal was an egalitarian at heart. He reasoned he had the same number of limbs as any royal and the same kind of cock so why shouldn't he have the same privileges they did? He was wrong in one respect: his cock wasn't the same as any of the royals. While not blessed with over-great height he had been blessed in other ways. His cock didn't rival a donkey's but it was longer than the distance between the tip of his thumb and little finger when his hand was splayed out and thicker than a boat-pole. It didn't hang down below his knees like some tried to boast theirs did but it was more than adequate to please the whores and village girls he had to console himself with until the gods laid a surprising boon ― and his mother's cunt ― in his lap.

Ilona knew all of this. Knew how careful he was and how resourceful, yet she still worried. It was just the mother in her, she told herself. That and the fact he was now her master and she had no idea what would become of her if he were to be caught and executed. Gods only knew where she would be sold if that happened. That and nothing more.

Antal had come home that afternoon dead tired. It had been a grueling run with foul weather, sheep that shit and threw-up all over his deck and to top it off he was actually chased by a customs boat for three hours until the channel no longer allowed them to follow. He hadn't even stopped to buy fish to bring into port like he normally did as a cover for his trips. He reasoned the storms over the delta would be enough reason for coming home with empty nets if anyone were actually out looking in this kind of weather.

He'd come home, bathed in the cool cistern water, eaten just a little bit and went straight to bed. Later, when she'd finished her duties, she'd slipped into bed with him not even considering trying to lie down anywhere else. For the first time since he'd bought her, with the exceptions of her monthlies, he hadn't rolled her face down and taken her from the rear. He'd woken momentarily as she rolled on her side, muttered something and pressed up against her back draping an arm around her and gently cupping a breast before drifting back off to sleep, nothing more. Ilona was surprised she felt a sense of loss at the lack of his sexual touch although the feel of him holding her protectively was comforting.

She awoke later that night as he stirred restlessly next to her. He still lay on his side facing her back but had separated slightly sometime during the night although he was close enough she could feel the heat of his body. That wasn't all she could feel. Even though it was only half hard, she could feel the tip of his cock pressing into the crevice at the top of her thighs, pushing softly against her as he fidgeted and muttered in his sleep.

He's worn out and just needs to relax, she thought to herself. Maybe, she rationalized, he just needs to have a release. Then he can sleep. Reaching back between them she gently grasped his member and began to very slowly stroke it as it became harder and harder in her hand. Any mother would do this for her son, she told herself. Any slave, to help her master. I'll just stroke him until he cums, she promised silently. But as if it had a mind of it's own her butt scooted back and her upper leg lifted and spread back over his until his by now very stiff cock was laying between the lips of her cunt. She rocked back and forth stroking him with her pussy like she had been doing with her hand. As she rocked back the tip of his turgid member rubbed lightly over her clit and she moaned in pleasure as small sparks of heat spread out from her nubbin throughout her body.

She didn't know exactly when he woke up but suddenly she realized he was gently thrusting back at her and he was no longer softly snoring. Arching her back to give him the angle needed for penetration she used her hand to position him at her entrance while again moving back until he sank about a third of his length into her.

"You want this, don't you?" he whispered as his own hand came around to gently toy with one of her hardening nipples.

"Yes," she admitted not caring if he thought her a slut for wanting him in her. She'd given up the pretence; she was a woman who wanted her lover's cock inside her. It no longer mattered if it was her son's cock, she just wanted her man to take her and claim what was his.

"Good," he whispered and she could almost sense the smile on his lips. She smiled herself; it felt good not to have to pretend anymore. She wanted him to take her and she was going to get what she wanted, what she needed.

"But not like this," he said a little more loudly and pulled completely out of her. She whimpered reaching around attempting to bring him back inside of her. She needn't have worried; he quickly sat up and then his strong hands gently rolled her over onto her back.

Suddenly he was between her legs; her son, her master was now above her as her eyes fluttered open. It was dark in the room, the storm outside preventing any light, even starlight, from entering. Without realizing it her hands were suddenly behind his head and she could feel the heat of his body just inches away. He was between her legs and she could feel the soft/hard head of his cock nestled between the parted outer lips of her cunt. Unconsciously her legs came up to lock behind his back as he began to push into her. Each slow thrust drove him deeper and she mewled at the pleasant sensation.

"You are mine now, aren't you?" he asked. "You are my woman and this is how I make love to my woman." His thrusts were still deep and measured but with each one he began to speed up just that little bit.

"Yes, Antal, I am you woman," she moaned. "I am your mother, your woman, your slave, your slut or your whore. I'm anything you want me to be, just so you keep loving me."

"I do love you, Mother." It was the first time he had called her by that name. It sounded strange to her. Her man, mounting her as he was, brought them both the ultimate pleasure by calling her his mother. "I love you and I will love you forever. You are mine and this is where you belong." And with his last words he began to thrust into her vigorously, the spongy head of his cock banging against the rubbery hard surface of her cervix with each push.

"Oh, Antal!" she moaned as she felt herself once again climbing that mountain leading to her climax. "Antal!" she screamed as her hands found his back and with fingers digging into the sharp clefs of the muscle pulled him down closer as she lifted her head and her lips eagerly sought his.

It was their first real kiss as lovers and she almost missed it when, as their lips pressed together, he shuddered, thrust deeply into her releasing his seed deep into her womb. As she felt his warm gift filling her, her own release took hold and she broke her lips away from his screaming, her body trembled and vibrated as the waves of pleasure coursed along her nerves causing her toes to curl and her heels to press against his buttocks in the vain attempt to drive him even deeper into her body.

Later after he had rolled them over until she lay on top of him she kissed and nibbled at his neck as they both began their slow descent into sleep again.

"I am yours," she whispered sleepily. "You always knew that but now I do too."

"You will always be mine," he confirmed as he pulled the covers over them. "And you will never go anywhere else ever again."

Edited by Morgan

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