Smut for Mothers

The sunlight trickles in as the birds outside reach their crescendo. I open my eyes and find him staring at me with his amber-green eyes. His thick lips, soft and rested, stretch to a smile.

Before I can say buenos días, he kisses the side of my neck and inhales my smell. His calloused hands caress my breasts as he lowers himself down, kissing my stomach along the way. He grips my nipples between his fingers, knowing his palms are too rough for them.

“Take it slow.”

He kisses my inner right thigh, then releases his warm velvet breath as he switches to the left. His face hovers above my pussy. I can feel his lip graze mine as he exhales. I push myself into his face, but he pulls away.

Take it slow. I already regret the words.

He looks up and smiles as he spreads my wetness over my clit. He then grabs my ass and starts kissing my clit with his soft lips. I’ve told him not to use tongue at first, and he always listens until—

“I need to taste you.”

Suddenly, his tongue is inside of me. He curls it up like he does with his fingers. He swears he loves my taste more in the morning.

Then he works his way back to my clit, and I orgasm, pushing myself hard into his face. He gives me a few seconds before inserting two fingers into me as he continues licking and softly sucking my sweet spot.

His fingers motion as if to say, ‘Come here,’ and I do. I cum two more times before he works his way back towards my face. He stares at me with the amber burning in his eyes.

“Don’t stop looking at me,” I say as he lifts me upright.

He sits on his knees, and I wrap my legs around him, but I don’t let him inside.

“Keep looking at me.”

He once told me that when he stares into my eyes, he sees all the beauty the universe has to offer.

“I can call you gorgeous, sexy, hermosa con morbo, but the only word that comes close to accuracy is sublime,” he says. “You overwhelm me.”

I know it’s true because I see tears welling in his eyes, and the second a tear falls, I squirt all over him. He holds his hand against my heart without looking away; my body contracts, and I squirt again.

This has

never

happened

before.

I can’t breathe.

“Hold me.”

The words barely come out, but he wraps his protective arms around me.

“Que somos, Nolan? What is happening to us?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know where you end and I begin. We’re not only one soul, but one body.”

We take a few deep breaths, and as soon as our bodies relax, we begin to laugh. I look down at his cock, hard and glistening with my wetness.

“Fuck me.”

What the hell is this doing on Born Without Borders?

I’m here to break down borders. As she says, ‘salir de las fronteras que impone tu mente.’

One of the questions I’ve been asking myself to dismantle constructs is why do we separate sexuality and motherhood? It makes absolutely no sense. We wouldn’t be here if our mothers weren’t sexual.

Thanks to Kat River, I’m learning to think about sexuality from a mother’s perspective.

From advertisements to movies to porn, the ways we think about sex are perverted by men. Of course, I’m a product of the society I grew up in. I’m still more comfortable talking about soulless fucking with friends than I am talking about sex with my mother.

I’m working on it.

It no longer feels strange to me to talk about my experiences, my mother’s past menstrual cycles, and how she thinks about sex and power, but I still have a lot of work to do.

We need each other to break free from destructive taboos.

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