The Son Seduction Trap
Copyright© 2025 by Chris X
Chapter 10
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Attend curiosity leads to adult websites which causes a moral dilemma for himself an online friend turns into more sexual boundaries are pushed the under limits. A journey into knowing oneself.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt Drunk/Drugged Rape BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching Incest Mother Son Father DomSub Humiliation Rough Interracial White Male White Female Hispanic Male Indian Male Anal Sex Cream Pie Exhibitionism First Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Hairy Revenge Violence AI Generated
The heavy, musky scent of our sex hangs thick in the motel room air, a permanent record of what we just did. What he just did to me. Carlos’s weight is a warm, comforting pressure on top of me, his softening length still nestled deep inside. I can feel the thrum of his heartbeat against my chest, a steady rhythm slowly returning to normal.
His lips are soft against my forehead. “Okay?” he asks again, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates through my entire body.
I just nod, my own voice utterly stolen. My body feels like it’s been taken apart and put back together all wrong, every nerve ending singing a new, different tune. The raw, stretched feeling between my legs is a constant, thrilling reminder of his possession.
He shifts, and I gasp at the sensation of him slipping out of me. A profound sense of emptiness follows, a void only he can fill. He rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand to look down at me. His dark eyes are unreadable, tracing the lines of my face, the sheen of sweat on my chest. His fingers, calloused and gentle, trace the trails of drying release on my stomach.
“Look at this mess,” he murmurs, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He brings his fingers to his mouth and slowly, deliberately, licks them clean. The sight is so shockingly intimate, so dirty and possessive, that a fresh wave of heat floods my already spent body. My cock gives a feeble, interested twitch against my thigh.
He sees it. Of course he sees it. His smirk widens. “Already? You’re insatiable, baby.” His hand drifts down, his knuckles brushing lightly over my sensitive flesh. I shudder violently. “But we’re not done. I said, “We’re The heavy, musky scent of our sex hangs thick in the motel room air, a permanent record of what we just did. What he just did to me. Carlos’s weight is a warm, comforting pressure on top of me, his softening length still nestled deep inside. I can feel the thrum of his heartbeat against my chest, a steady rhythm slowly returning to normal.
His lips are soft against my forehead. “Okay?” he asks again, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates through my entire body.
I just nod, my own voice utterly stolen. My body feels like it’s been taken apart and put back together all wrong, every nerve ending singing a new, different tune. The raw, stretched feeling between my legs is a constant, thrilling reminder of his possession.
He shifts, and I gasp at the sensation of him slipping out of me. A profound sense of emptiness follows, a void only he can fill. He rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand to look down at me. His dark eyes are unreadable, tracing the lines of my face, the sheen of sweat on my chest. His fingers, calloused and gentle, trace the trails of drying release on my stomach.
“Look at this mess,” he murmurs, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He brings his fingers to his mouth and slowly, deliberately, licks them clean. The sight is so shockingly intimate, so dirty and possessive, that a fresh wave of heat floods my already spent body. My cock gives a feeble, interested twitch against my thigh.
He sees it. Of course he sees it. His smirk widens. “Already? You’re insatiable, baby.” His hand drifts down, his knuckles brushing lightly over my sensitive flesh. I shudder violently. “But we’re not done. I said, “We’re just getting started.”
He slides off the bed, his naked body a masterpiece of power and ink in the dim light. He walks to the small motel bathroom, and I hear the sound of water running. He returns with a warm, damp washcloth. He doesn’t hand it to me. He climbs back onto the bed and begins to clean me himself, with a startling tenderness. He wipes my stomach, my chest, and my thighs. He carefully, gently, cleans between my legs, dabbing at the sensitive, well-used flesh. The act is so intimate it leaves me breathless, more exposed than when I was naked and spread open for him.
When he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside. He lies back down, pulling me against him so my back is to his chest, spooning me. His arms wrap around me, one hand splayed possessively over my stomach, the other coming up to cup my throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. A constant, gentle reminder of his control.
“You gave me something tonight, Adam,” he whispers into my ear, his breath hot. “Something real. That trust ... that surrender ... that’s everything.” His hand on my stomach drifts lower, his fingers combing through my pubic hair before wrapping loosely around my half-hard cock. He doesn’t stroke me. Just holds me. “You feel how you’re coming back to life for me? Your body knows who it belongs to now.”
I press back against him, feeling the hard line of his own renewed erection against the small of my back. A soft whimper escapes me.
“Shhh, I know, baby,” he coos, his voice a dark lullaby. “I feel it too.” His hand on my throat tilts my head back so he can claim my mouth in a slow, deep, languid kiss. It tastes of us, of sweat and sex and him. It’s a kiss that says the night is far from over.
He breaks the kiss, nipping at my lower lip. “Turn over.”
The command is soft but absolute. I obey, rolling onto my stomach. The cheap sheets are cool against my heated skin. He moves behind me, kneeling between my legs. His hands smooth over my ass, massaging the muscles, kneading them. He spreads my cheeks, exposing me completely to his gaze again. I bury my face in the pillow, my entire body flushing with a mixture of shame and overwhelming arousal.
“So fucking perfect,” he growls. I feel the wet, hot swipe of his tongue again, lapping at my tender entrance. I cry out into the pillow, my hips bucking involuntarily. He holds me down with one strong hand on the small of my back. “Stay still. Take it.” He eats me with a ruthless dedication, his tongue probing and licking until I’m a writhing, sobbing mess, pushing back against his face, desperate for more.
Just when I think I can’t take another second of the torturous pleasure, he stops. I hear the click of the lubricant cap again. My heart hammers against my ribs. Again. He’s going to take me again.
He doesn’t use his fingers this time. I feel the slick, thick head of his cock pressing against me. I’m still loose, still open from before, but the pressure is still immense. “Breathe, baby,” he commands, his voice strained. He leans over me, covering my body with his, his chest against my back. His mouth finds my ear. “This time, you’re going to ride it. You’re going to push back on me. You’re going to take every inch yourself.”
He begins to push forward. This time, the initial burn is a familiar, welcome ache. I do as I’m told, exhaling and pushing my hips back, impaling myself on his thick length. A guttural moan is torn from both of us as he sinks home. He fills me so completely, stretching me to my absolute limit.
“Fuck yes,” he hisses, his hips flush against my ass. “Just like that. Now move. Show me how much you want it.”
Tentatively, I rock back against him. The friction is exquisite, lighting up every shattered nerve ending. He lets me set the pace for a few strokes, his hands gripping my hips, his groans of encouragement fueling me. I move faster, driven by a primal need to feel him deeper, harder.
“That’s it, baby. Use my cock. Make yourself feel good.”
His words unleash something in me. I fuck myself back on him with a desperate, frantic rhythm, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room. The pleasure is building again, a tight, hot coil deep in my gut. One of his hands slides under me, finding my leaking, neglected cock. He strokes me in time with my thrusts, his grip perfect.
“Are you going to come again?” He grunts, his own thrusts becoming more forceful, meeting mine. “Are you going to come all over my hand while I’m buried deep inside you?”
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