I never meant to see it happen. It started as just another night, lying in bed, trying to ignore the sounds of my parents’ muffled laughter through the thin walls. But then I heard something else—the creak of their bedroom door, Mom’s bare feet padding down the hall toward the bathroom. I don’t know why I got up. Curiosity, maybe. Or something darker.

I crept out of my room, the floor cold under my feet, and pressed my ear against the bathroom door. At first, just the sound of her piss hitting the water, steady and loud. Then, a soft, unmistakable *pfft*—a fart, wet and warm, followed by a quiet giggle from her. My dick twitched in my boxers. I shouldn’t have been turned on. But fuck, I was.

The toilet flushed, and I barely had time to duck into the shadows before the door opened. Mom stepped out, still naked from whatever she and Dad had been doing earlier. The dim hallway light caught the slick wetness between her thighs, her pussy glistening, puffy and used.

She froze when she saw me. “Oh—sweetie, what are you doing up?” Her voice was soft, but her cheeks flushed pink.

I couldn’t lie. My eyes dropped to her cunt, my cock already straining against my shorts. “I heard you,” I admitted, voice rough.

A beat of silence. Then, slowly, she smiled. “Heard what?”

My face burned. “You… you farted.”

She didn’t look embarrassed. Instead, she exhaled, almost amused. “Little boys shouldn’t spy on their moms,” she murmured, stepping closer.

I couldn’t stop staring. The musky scent of her sex filled the space between us, mixed with something earthier—her piss, her sweat, that hot little fart still lingering in the air. My mouth watered.

“You like that, don’t you?” she whispered, fingers trailing down her stomach, through her curls. “You like how dirty Mommy is?”

Fuck. I nodded, unable to speak.

She bit her lip, then grabbed my wrist, pressing my hand between her legs. Her pussy was so warm, so wet, her folds sticky with Dad’s cum. I groaned, my fingers sliding through her mess, gathering it on my fingertips.

“Clean it,” she ordered, voice low, pushing my hand toward my mouth.

I didn’t hesitate. I licked my fingers, tasting salt and sex and *her*, my cock throbbing as her flavor coated my tongue. She moaned, spreading her legs wider.

“Good boy,” she purred. “Now get on your knees.”

I dropped instantly, my face level with her cunt. She gripped my hair, grinding against my mouth, her slick smearing over my lips. I buried my tongue inside her, lapping up every drop, sucking her clit until her thighs shook.

She let out another soft fart right against my face, the warm puff of air hitting my nose, the scent thick and intimate. I moaned, sucking harder, fucking her with my tongue as her juices dripped down my chin.

“Fuck, just like that,” she gasped, riding my mouth, her hips jerking. “You’re such a dirty little boy, eating your mommy’s used pussy…”

I didn’t care. I wanted it all—her taste, her smell, every filthy, secret part of her. Her fingers tightened in my hair as she came, her cunt clenching around my tongue, her juices flooding my mouth.

When she finally pulled away, panting, she looked down at me with dark, satisfied eyes. “Now,” she murmured, “go back to bed before your father wonders where I am.”

But I already knew—I’d never forget this. And I’d be listening for her again.