The university hallways were quiet except for the low murmur of voices from various meeting rooms. Parent-teacher conference night was in full swing—dimly lit rooms, advisors at desks piled with grade reports, proud parents nodding along.
He Hao's meeting room was no different. The advisor, a middle-aged woman with glasses, sat behind the large oak desk, chatting animatedly with He Jie about He Hao's excellent performance. He Hao himself sat in one of the chairs nearby, looking the picture of maturity and focus.
Qin Ya stood beside her husband, the perfect image of an elegant mother: tight black pencil skirt hugging her hips, cream silk blouse tucked neatly, sheer black stockings, and classic high heels. Her hair was pinned up, makeup subtle and sophisticated. No one could guess what lay beneath.
Inside her cunt, the remote egg buzzed on a low, constant setting—enough to keep her thighs slick and trembling. A medium-sized anal plug stretched her ass, the base pressing firmly against her panties. And just above her panty line, hidden by the skirt's waistband, the fresh black spade tattoo throbbed faintly under its healing plastic wrap—still tender, still glistening with ointment.
She was already soaked. The addiction had her on edge the entire drive here; every bump in the road had shifted the plug and egg, reminding her who she belonged to.
He Hao caught her eye and gave the tiniest nod toward the floor under the advisor's desk.
Qin Ya's heart slammed against her ribs. Her husband was standing right there. The advisor was talking about course grades. But the need—the burning, humiliating need—was stronger than fear.
She pretended to drop her phone. "Oh—sorry," she murmured, bending smoothly to pick it up. Instead of standing, she sank lower, sliding silently under the large desk on her hands and knees. The desk was old and wide; the long tablecloth draped almost to the floor, hiding her completely from view.
Above, He Jie and the advisor continued chatting, oblivious.
Under the desk, in the dim shadows, He Hao had already spread his legs wide. His trousers were unzipped; his thick cock stood fully erect, veins pulsing, glans flushed dark and already leaking a steady bead of pre-cum.
Qin Ya crawled forward on stockinged knees until her face was inches from her son's lap. The scent hit her immediately—his sharp, masculine musk, intoxicating. Her mouth watered instantly.
Without a word she leaned in and took him into her mouth—slow, worshipful, lips sealing around the swollen head. Her tongue swirled delicately over the slit, lapping up the salty pre-cum that had gathered there. She sank lower, inch by inch, until her nose pressed against his lower abdomen and his cock filled her throat completely. The stretch burned perfectly; she held there, swallowing around him, feeling his pulse against her tongue.
Above the desk, the advisor said something about "consistent excellence in advanced courses." He Jie laughed politely.
Under the desk, He Hao's hand found the back of her head and began guiding her—slow, deep strokes that made her gag softly each time the head nudged the back of her throat. Thick saliva poured from her stretched lips, dripping in long strings onto his balls and the chair seat. Every downward slide coated his shaft in warm wetness; every upward pull left it glistening and throbbing.
The egg inside her cunt buzzed harder—He Hao had slipped the remote from her purse earlier. The sudden increase made her hips jerk involuntarily; the anal plug shifted, sending sparks up her spine. She moaned around his cock—the vibration made him twitch deep in her throat.
Minutes dragged into an eternity. The conversation above continued—grades, behaviour, future potential—while Qin Ya worshipped her son's cock in total silence. She hollowed her cheeks, sucked gently, tongue tracing every bulging vein. Saliva pooled in her mouth and spilled over, soaking his trousers at the zipper, running down to darken the fabric.
He Hao's free hand reached under the desk, found the hem of her pencil skirt, and slowly hiked it up over her hips. Cool air kissed her exposed ass and thighs. He traced the waistband of her lace panties, then tugged them aside, revealing the healing tattoo.
His fingers brushed the raw skin—lightly, possessively—making her whimper around his cock. Then he slid two fingers into her dripping cunt alongside the buzzing egg, curling them to stroke her frontal wall. The plastic wrap over the tattoo crinkled softly as he pressed his palm against it, claiming the marked skin while finger-fucking her in slow, deep strokes.
Qin Ya's eyes rolled back. Tears of overwhelming pleasure leaked down her cheeks, mixing with the mascara she had so carefully applied. Her throat worked frantically around his cock, swallowing again and again to stay quiet.
The advisor leaned forward to show He Jie a report—her chair creaking inches from Qin Ya's hidden form.
He Hao's hips began tiny, controlled thrusts—fucking her mouth in shallow motions while his fingers plunged faster inside her. Cream coated his hand, dripping down her thighs in thick streams, soaking the tops of her stockings.
Finally, after what felt like hours, his cock swelled impossibly thicker. With a silent groan he held her head down, nose pressed to his skin, and erupted—scalding ropes of semen shooting directly down her throat. Qin Ya swallowed desperately, throat convulsing around him, milking every pulse until he was spent. Not a single drop escaped her lips.
When he released her, she carefully licked him clean—long, gentle swipes of her tongue over shaft and balls—before tucking him away and zipping him up with trembling fingers.
Only then did she crawl backward, skirt still bunched at her waist, tattoo exposed and glistening with her own juices under the plastic wrap.
She emerged from under the desk just as another parent knocked on the open door.
Qin Ya stood quickly, smoothing her skirt down, face flushed crimson, lipstick smeared, a thin trail of saliva still shining at the corner of her mouth. Her legs shook so badly she had to grip the back of He Jie's chair for support.
The advisor smiled politely. "Everything all right, Mrs. He?"
"Y-yes… just… dropped my earring," Qin Ya managed, voice hoarse.
He Jie glanced at her, eyes twinkling with full knowledge, and patted her hand.
He Hao simply smiled innocently.
It was well past 2 a.m. when they finally returned home.
The house was dark and silent. He Jie had gone straight to bed, waving them off with an amused "have fun."
He Hao led his mother by the collar into the master bedroom—the one she shared with her husband—and closed the door with a soft click. Moonlight filtered through the half-open curtains, silvering the room.
From the back of the wardrobe he pulled out the old university cheerleader uniform, perfectly preserved: a tiny red-and-white crop top with the school logo stretched across the chest, a pleated micro-skirt that barely covered her ass even in her university days, white cotton panties, and two red pom-poms. The fabric smelled faintly of cedar from years in storage.
"Put it on, Mom. Every piece. I want to see how my personal cheerleader looks now."
Qin Ya's hands shook with desperate excitement as she stripped off the elegant parent-advisor outfit. The pencil skirt slid down her legs, revealing the soaked lace panties underneath—still dripping from the conference room blowjob and the long car ride home with the egg and plug tormenting her. She peeled everything away until she stood naked, collar gleaming, fresh tattoo proud and glistening on her lower abdomen.
Piece by piece she dressed in the old uniform.
The crop top was impossible now. Her massive G-cup breasts had filled out far beyond her university figure; the fabric stretched obscenely, the logo distorting across her swollen mounds. The hem rode up, exposing the underside of her breasts and the black spade tattoo in full view. Her dark, pierced nipples poked visibly through the thin material, the torn ring from earlier still slightly swollen.
The pleated micro-skirt barely covered the curve of her ass; every breath made it flip up, flashing the white cotton panties beneath. The panties themselves sat low on her hips—the waistband cut deliberately below the tattoo so the black spade and elegant script were perfectly framed above the innocent white fabric.
She slipped her feet into the old white sneakers, picked up the pom-poms, and turned to face her son.
He Hao's eyes burned. His cock was already straining against his trousers.
"Cheer for me, Mom. The full routine. Make it dirty."
Qin Ya's addiction overrode every last shred of shame. She began jumping—high kicks that flashed her panties and tattoo, bends that made the crop top ride higher and her breasts nearly spill out, splits that spread her legs wide and showed the damp patch growing on the cotton crotch. Pom-poms swished as she chanted in a breathy, desperate voice:
"Give me an H!" (jump, legs spread, skirt flipping up)
"Give me an A!" (bend forward, ass to him, tailbone tattoo visible)
"Give me an O!" (cartwheel that ended in a straddle, panties pulled tight against swollen lips)
Each letter spelled his name louder, filthier, until she was panting, sweat glistening on her skin, the tattoo shining under the moonlight.
He Hao couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed her by the waist mid-jump and bent her over the foot of the bed—standing doggy, skirt flipped up over her back, panties yanked to the side. The white cotton framed her soaked cunt perfectly.
One forceful thrust buried him to the hilt.
Qin Ya screamed into the duvet—raw, needy—as her cunt stretched around his thickness. The plug in her ass made everything tighter; every stroke dragged across the thin wall separating her holes. He gripped the pleats of the micro-skirt like reins and began pounding—hard, wet slaps echoing through the bedroom. Her breasts swung wildly beneath the crop top, nipples scraping the bedsheets, pom-poms still clutched forgotten in her hands.
He pulled out suddenly and spun her around, lifting her bodily. Full nelson—arms locked behind her head, legs folded up and spread wide, completely helpless. He lowered her onto his cock again, impaling her in one smooth drop. The position exposed everything: tattoo glistening with sweat, cunt lips stretched obscenely around his shaft, plug base winking between her cheeks.
He bounced her like a toy—up and down, hard and fast—her body folded, breasts bouncing violently, pom-poms flailing in her trapped hands. Every downward slam forced a fresh gush of cream from her cunt, soaking his balls and dripping onto the carpet. The tattoo flexed with every thrust, the black spade seeming to pulse with her heartbeat.
"Tell me who you're cheering for," he growled against her ear.
"Only Hao Hao… Mommy's cunt cheers only for her son's cock…" she sobbed, voice breaking with each forceful bounce.
He dropped her to the carpet on her back—mating press, legs pushed to her shoulders, pom-poms still clutched in white-knuckled hands. The micro-skirt bunched uselessly around her waist; the crop top had ridden up completely, baring her breasts and the tattoo in full view. He slammed into her again, folding her nearly in half, cock battering her cervix with every stroke.
The angle was perfect. Every thrust ground directly against her frontal wall; the plug shifted in her ass, sending double sensations crashing through her. Cream frothed around his pistoning shaft, squirting out in messy spurts with each withdrawal. The tattoo glistened—sweat, her own juices, pre-cum—making the black ink shine like it was freshly done.
He pulled out of her cunt with a wet pop and pressed the slick head against her plugged ass. The medium plug popped out easily—her hole already loose and ready from hours of wear. He thrust in—slow at first, savoring the tight heat, then harder, deeper, until his hips met her ass and he was buried completely.
Qin Ya's scream was silent this time—mouth open, eyes rolled back, body convulsing as her ass was claimed in the cheerleader uniform. He fucked her ass with the same ferocity—long, punishing strokes that made her breasts bounce and the pom-poms shake in her hands. The tattoo flexed above her stuffed holes, a permanent brand of ownership.
With a final roar he slammed deep and came—scalding ropes flooding her rectum, filling her until cum bubbled around his buried shaft and leaked out in thick white streams. Her own orgasm crashed through her at the same moment; her cunt—empty now—squirted violently, soaking the carpet and the pleated skirt.
He stayed inside her ass through the aftershocks, then slowly withdrew. Immediately he picked up the larger tail plug he had prepared—a thick black one with a long, fluffy tail—and pushed it firmly into her cum-filled ass. The base seated perfectly; excess semen oozed around the edges and ran down over her tattoo.
"Keep it warm until morning, Mom," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the sweaty spade. "Every drop stays inside my property."
Qin Ya, still in the ruined cheerleader uniform—crop top askew, skirt soaked, pom-poms clutched loosely, cum leaking from both holes around the new plug—could only nod weakly, hips twitching in helpless aftershocks.
She was his cheerleader.
She was his property.
Forever.