The brochures had painted a picture of paradise – sun-drenched beaches, crystal-clear turquoise water, and the perfect family getaway. What they failed to mention was that paradise came with a side of forced smiles and simmering resentment. My parents, masters of the art, put on a show of shared laughter that seemed a little too loud and hand-holding that was a bit too deliberate. I was just trying to survive this vacation, counting down the days until I could return to the real world.
By the third day, the cracks were beginning to show. My father had taken to hitting the resort bar earlier each afternoon, while my mother, always impeccably dressed and put together, began to look a little frayed around the edges. I spent most of my time walking along the beach, headphones on, pretending I wasn’t related to the couple arguing over the volume of the beach umbrella.
That night, they announced they were heading out for a “romantic evening.” Romantic, to them, meant a bottle of wine each and a hushed argument about who was having more fun. I was relieved – finally, some peace. I retreated to our cramped hotel room, flipped through channels on the TV, and eventually got lost in the endless scroll of my phone.
I was just starting to drift off when a thunderous banging on the door jolted me awake. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo against the silence of the room. I peered through the peephole, half-expecting some kind of emergency – a burst pipe, a neighbour’s apartment ablaze. It was Dad.
He looked like he’d been through a goddamn war. His usually meticulously styled hair was dishevelled, strands plastered to his forehead with sweat. His expensive shirt was rumpled, the top buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of pale chest. His face, normally a picture of composed affability, was flushed a furious red, fueled by a volatile mix of anger and alcohol. “Jason, I need a favour,” he slurred, his voice thick and unsteady. He didn’t wait for an invitation, pushing past me into the room, the scent of whiskey and cheap cologne clinging to him like a desperate lover. “Your mother and I had a bit of a disagreement. I can’t even look at her right now.”
I blinked, trying to process the intrusion, the blatant display of parental dysfunction. “What kind of disagreement?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
“Doesn’t matter,” he waved his hand dismissively, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. “The point is, I need a place to crash. Just for tonight. Can I… can I take your bed?” He looked at me with pathetic desperation, a stark contrast to the confident patriarch I usually knew.
My skin crawled. This was wrong on so many levels. He should be talking to Mom, working through whatever bullshit had ignited their fight, not dragging me into the middle of their marital battlefield. “Dad, I don’t know…”
He looked at me with pleading eyes, the jovial mask he usually wore completely gone, replaced by a raw vulnerability that made me profoundly uncomfortable. “Please, Jason. Just tonight. I can’t… I can’t go back in there.”
I caved. Avoiding confrontation was practically my superpower, a skill honed over years of navigating my parents’ passive-aggressive dynamic. “Fine,” I mumbled, defeated. I grabbed a pillow and blanket, heading towards their room, the king-sized monstrosity that symbolized their supposedly perfect life. He didn’t even meet my gaze as he mumbled a half-hearted thanks and practically collapsed onto my narrow twin bed, turning his back to me as if the sight of me was too much to bear.
Lying in my parents’ king-sized bed felt surreal. The faint, lingering scent of my mother’s expensive perfume clung to the sheets, a floral bouquet that mingled with the stale, masculine odour of Dad’s cologne. It felt like I was trespassing somehow, violating some unspoken boundary, peering behind a curtain I wasn’t meant to see. Sleep was a long time coming, my mind churning with unanswered questions and a growing sense of unease.
Then, about an hour later, it happened.
The door creaked open, flooding the room with light from the hallway. I squeezed my eyes shut, feigning sleep, and my muscles tensed like coiled springs. Maybe if I didn’t acknowledge her, if I played the part of a sleeping body convincingly enough, she’d go away, leaving me in the uncomfortable solitude of their bed.
“Robert?” My mother’s voice was thick with sleep and something else… regret? A tremor of vulnerability ran through it, a stark departure from her usual controlled tone. She stumbled further into the room, her silhouette swaying slightly in the dim light. “Robert, are you awake?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She continued, her voice cracking, the carefully constructed facade of composure crumbling. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to… I just… I’m not feeling myself lately.” She was slurring her words now, her speech punctuated by soft hiccups, clearly still feeling the lingering effects of the alcohol she’d been drinking all night.
She moved closer to the bed, mumbling about needing to talk, about feeling lonely, about the emptiness that had been slowly consuming her. With a sigh, a sound of exhaustion and unspoken grief, she began to get undressed. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic rhythm that threatened to betray my deception. I just laid there, stiff as a board, mortified, disgusted, and a little scared.
She pulled back the covers and slipped into bed, omg she was completely naked. She shuffled up close to me, her body heat radiating against my back. God, she thought I was Dad.
“I am horny, honey. I want to make it up to you,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire and wine. Her hand tentatively reached out, her fingers brushing against my side before settling on the waistband of my boxers. “Wow, you feel much bigger than normal, and you’re hard already.”
I felt a strange, conflicting mixture of guilt and fascination. This was my mother, after all – the woman who’d sung me lullabies and bandaged my scraped knees. But she was also a woman, with needs and desires that I’d never really considered before, vulnerabilities that she usually kept carefully hidden beneath layers of Chanel No. 5 and social grace.
I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat tightening. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified, aroused, and confused all at once, a volatile cocktail of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. She pushed my boxers down and reached for my cock and pulled it out. She went under the blankets and start to suck me off. Just before she put me in her mouth she looked at it and said “Honey this is bigger than I remember.”
Her lips were firmly around the head of my cock, the sensation both shocking and intensely pleasurable. She held the base of my shaft, her fingers gently squeezing, as she began to suck, her movements slow and deliberate. Wow, she was good. I should have said something, should have stopped her, but the pleasure was too overwhelming, the taboo too intoxicating. I still couldn’t believe my mom thought I was Dad; the absurdity of the situation was almost surreal.
“Mmmm,” she hummed around my shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. Her hand pumped what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, twisting gently. I bit my lip, trying to stifle a moan, the sound threatening to break the fragile illusion. This is wrong, so wrong, but it feels so good. I can’t bring myself to stop her, to shatter the fragile bubble of forbidden pleasure.
She pulls back, her lips glistening with saliva, her eyes half-closed with pleasure. “You taste so good, baby,” she murmurs, her breath hot against my skin.
She then crawled up my body and straddled me, her weight pressing down on me, her bare skin against my skin. She held my cock, guiding it towards her. I then helped her settle on my cock as she was drunk and a little unsteady. She struggled, so I helped her get me inside her, the moist heat of her enveloping me.
“Oh, Robert,” she moans, her voice thick with desire and alcohol. “You feel so big tonight. So much bigger than usual.” She starts to move, rocking her hips back and forth, her large breasts bouncing with each thrust, the sensation sending a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust through me. My hands instinctively gripped her hips, helping her maintain her rhythm. “Mmm, yes,” she pants, throwing her head back in ecstasy. “Fuck me, baby.”
“God, you’re so hard tonight,” she pants, “I’ve never felt you like this before.” She sits up, her hands braced on my chest as she continues to ride me, the muscles in her thighs flexing with each movement.
As she leaned forward, her breasts pressed against my chest, the soft fullness of them intoxicating. A surge took over me, a primal urge to dominate, to possess. I rolled us over, I was now on top of her, I held her tight and started to ram my cock in and out of her pussy, the sensation both addictive and deeply wrong.
I’m thrusting into her, my hips moving with a mind of their own. Her pussy feels incredible – tight, wet, and hot. I can’t believe this is happening, that I’m fucking my own mother. But the pleasure is too intense to stop, the taboo too alluring to resist. “Oh god, Robert!” she cries out, her nails digging into my back, leaving shallow scratches on my skin.
I grunt in response, my pace becoming more aggressive, my movements fueled by a desperate need for release. I’m pounding into her now, the bed creaking beneath us, the sound amplifying the illicit nature of our encounter. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me even deeper, binding me to her in this act of forbidden intimacy.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she chants, her head thrashing from side to side, her body arching with each thrust. “Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard!”
I oblige, slamming into her with all my strength, the force of my movements sending shivers through her body. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with our laboured breathing and moans of pleasure. I was balls deep inside of her as I picked up speed, I tried to be quiet as if she knew it was me she would freak out or would she?
I felt her body tense beneath me, her pussy clamping down around my cock like a vice, her internal muscles contracting rhythmically. “Oh fuck my pussy, Robert,” she moaned, her voice strained, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her mature cunt was too much; damn, she felt different to any pussy I have fucked, maybe more intensified as I knew it was my mom’s pussy, the ultimate taboo.
Her body convulsed beneath me, her orgasm washing over her in waves, her muscles clenching and releasing. I felt her pussy pulsating around my cock, milking me, squeezing out every last drop of pleasure. I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a final, powerful thrust, I buried myself deep inside her and let go, my muscles tensing as I reached the precipice. My cock throbbed as I emptied myself into her, filling her up with my hot, sticky cum, the culmination of this incredible, forbidden act.
“Oh god, Robert!” she cried out, her voice hoarse from screaming. “I can feel you coming inside me. Fuck, it’s so much!” I lay on top of her, my body shaking with the intensity of my release, my heart pounding in my chest. We lay there for a moment, our chests heaving, our bodies still joined, the silence broken only by our ragged breathing. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I’d just fucked my own mother, and it had been incredible, a dark and twisted fantasy come to life.
I pulled my cock out of her and put it back in my boxers as I lay down beside her, the lingering scent of our mingled sweat and sex hanging heavy in the air. She rolls over, facing away from me, and begins to snore softly, her breathing deep and even. I stare at her back, my mind racing, a whirlwind of guilt, shame, and a strange, undeniable sense of exhilaration. What the fuck just happened?
I lay there, my heart pounding in my chest, staring at the ceiling, the weight of my actions pressing down on me. The room was silent except for the sound of my mother’s gentle snores. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Eventually, I nodded off.
I woke up as daylight arrived, the sun streaming through the gap in the curtains, illuminating the room with a harsh, unforgiving light. I found my arm over my mom, her body warm and pliant beneath my touch. She was on her back, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, and my head was resting on her boobs, the soft fullness of them a surprisingly comforting pillow.
My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I was disoriented, struggling to reconcile the fragmented memories of the night before with the reality of the present moment. The unfamiliar weight on my chest and the soft, warm curves beneath my cheek slowly registered, sending a jolt of panic through me. I lifted my head, blinking away the sleep, and found myself staring at my mother’s face. She was still asleep, her features relaxed and peaceful, her lips slightly parted.
I slipped out of bed, grabbing my clothes and dressing quickly, my movements furtive and desperate. I needed to get out of there, to put some distance between us, to escape the suffocating weight of what had happened. But as I reached for the door handle, I heard her stir behind me. “Jason?” Her voice was groggy, laced with confusion. “What are you doing in her and you’re in your boxers? Wait… where is your dad?”
“Mom,” I started, my voice cracking slightly.”I…Dad’s not here. He came to my room last night, really drunk. He told me about you two arguing, and he… he passed out on my bed. So I came into your bed for the night.”
“He… he slept in your bed?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she noticed she was naked and covered herself. “He can’t have because we were… wait?”
Her eyes widened in realization, a mixture of shock and horror spreading across her face. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “Jason was that you last night… were we… No no.”
Jason,” she finally managed, her voice trembling. “Tell me… tell me that wasn’t you last night.”
“Jason,” she repeated, her voice rising in pitch, a hysterical edge creeping in.”Please, tell me it wasn’t you. Tell me I didn’t… I didn’t do that with my own son.”
I couldn’t look at her I felt bad, I got dressed and left the room. “Jason we need to talk get here.”
I was down in the lobby of the hotel and I sat there when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mom.
The text from Mom read: “Jason, we need to talk. Now. Meet me in my room in 10 minutes. Alone. I mean it.”
Maybe through text, I can explain to her, as it was embarrassing. I started to text back.
I typed out a response, my fingers trembling slightly as I tried to find the right words. “Mom, I… I don’t know what to say. Last night was… it was a mistake. I never meant for it to happen. I was asleep when you came in, and you thought I was Dad. I’m so sorry, Mom. I never wanted to hurt you or betray your trust. Can we just forget it ever happened? Please? if it makes you feel good, that was the best sex I have ever had.”
I walked into the hotel room, my heart pounding in my chest. Mom was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She looked up as I entered, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, a clear sign that she had been crying. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension that made it difficult to breathe.
“Jason,” she started, her voice trembling slightly. “I… I don’t even know where to begin.”She paused, taking a deep breath as if steeling herself for what she was about to say.”Last night… what happened between us… it was wrong. So incredibly wrong.”
She stood up, pacing the room nervously, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet with each step. “I can’t believe I did that… with my own son. It’s… it’s… Why didn’t you tell me it was you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I was going to but it happened all so fast, you started to you know give me a blowjob I then got carried away, you felt so good and I was so turned on.”
Mom’s face flushed a deep crimson at my words, a mixture of embarrassment and something else – a flicker of arousal, quickly suppressed. She turned away, her shoulders hunched, as if trying to shield herself from the weight of my confession.
“I… I can’t believe I did that,” she murmured, more to herself than to you. “With my son…” She took a shuddering breath, her hands trembling slightly as she ran them through her hair. When she turned back to face me, her eyes were filled with a tumult of emotions – guilt, shame, and a lingering spark of desire. “Jason, we can’t… we can’t let this happen again. It’s wrong, it’s…it’s incest. I should have guessed something was off when it actually… felt good for a change and I should have noticed when it felt bigger in… well in me.”
“You really liked it,” I said as I was impressed that she thought I was bigger than dads.
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, as if struggling to find the right words. Finally, she sighed, a heavy, resigned sound. “Jason, please… don’t make this harder than it already is.” She walked over to the window, staring out at the pristine beach and crystal-clear ocean, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside the room.
“I… I can’t deny that it felt good,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely audible.”Better than it has been in a long time. But that doesn’t change the fact that it was wrong. So wrong.” She turned back to face me, her expression a mix of anguish and determination. “We need to forget this ever happened, Jason. We need to pretend it was just a terrible dream. I’m your mother, and you’re my son. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
I nodded solemnly, my heart heavy with the weight of our shared secret. “You’re right, Mom. It was a mistake. We’ll just forget it ever happened. Just so you know it was the best night of my life, it sounds cheesy.”
She went red with embarrassment, “Come on get ready we all will go get breakfast, so I take it your dad’s still asleep in your bed.”
She went red with embarrassment, “Come on get ready we all will go get breakfast.”
As we walked down to the hotel restaurant, Mom was quiet, lost in thought. I couldn’t help but steal glances at her, remembering the feel of her body against mine, the taste of her skin, and the sounds she made as I pleasured her. I knew I should feel guilty, ashamed even, but all I could think about was how incredible it had felt, how right it had seemed in the moment. The restaurant was bustling with guests, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filling the air. We found Dad already seated at a table, looking slightly worse for wear, his eyes bloodshot and his hair dishevelled. He greeted us with a gruff nod, his gaze flicking between Mom and me with a hint of suspicion.
“Morning,” he muttered, his voice gravelly from sleep and alcohol. “I trust you two slept well?”
Mom forced a smile, her eyes darting nervously to mine before settling on Dad’s face. “Fine, Robert. Just fine.” She sat down across from him, her movements stiff and awkward, as if her body was still adjusting to the weight of our secret.
After that night I tried to forget it but I couldn’t. I was also seeing my mom differently now. I was constantly checking her out and looking at her cleavage. Mom noticed the way I was looking at her and I would quickly look away.
As the days passed, the unspoken tension between us grew thicker with each passing moment. I found myself stealing glances at her when she wasn’t looking, admiring the curves of her body that I now knew intimately. She, in turn, seemed increasingly uncomfortable in my presence, her movements stiff and her conversations clipped.
One afternoon, as I lounged by the pool, my mom emerged from the hotel, dressed in a revealing bikini that left little to the imagination. She settled into a chair next to me, her skin glistening with sunscreen. I couldn’t help but let your gaze wander over her body, my mind filled with forbidden thoughts. As if sensing my stare, she turned to me, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Jason, can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked, her voice low and urgent. She glanced around, ensuring no one was within earshot before continuing. “I get it, you are a guy and how do I put this, I understand,” she continued, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re a young man with… needs.”
I tried to look all confused as I looked at her cleavage in her bikini, “what are you getting at Mom.”
Mom’s eyes flicked down to your gaze on her chest, then back up to your face. She took a deep breath as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. “Jason, I’m not blind. I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at me lately. It’s… inappropriate.”
“I… I am sorry, just you’re beautiful. I try not to look at you like that,” I said opening a can of Coke from the cooler.
She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the pool, where your father was swimming laps, oblivious to the tense conversations happening just a few feet away. When she spoke again, her voice was tinged with a hint of desperation. “I know things have been… complicated between us lately. And I’m not saying I don’t… appreciate the attention. But we can’t act on it. We just can’t. It’s our last day here.”
“I know,” I said, my voice low and husky. “I know we can’t. But Mom… I can’t stop thinking about that night. About how good it felt, how right it seemed.” I leaned in closer, my breath hot against her ear. “I know you can’t either. I see the way you look at me, the way your breath catches when our eyes meet.”
She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly.”Jason, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “We can’t talk about this here. Not now.” She sighed, “Listen, we will talk later about it when your father is asleep I will come to your room, just to chat.”
Later that night I was lying in bed in just my boxers, I looked at the clock it was 1:45 AM. Oh well, I take it she’s fallen asleep. But just then the door opened I reached for the lamp and turned it on. Wow, Mom was in a short nightie as she walked over to my bed and got inside.
“Dont get any ideas we are only talking,” she said as she lay on her side and I turned to face her my cock started getting hard.
“Talking, huh?” I said, my voice low and husky as I looked at her in that short nightie. I could see the outline of her breasts and her nipples were hard. “Mom, I think we both know why you are here. This late at night.”
She bit her lip, her eyes flicking down to the growing bulge in my boxers. “Jason, we shouldn’t…” she whispered, but there was no conviction in her voice. Her hand reached out, tentatively, and rested on my chest. “Your father…”
“He’s asleep,” I interrupted, my hand covering hers, and bringing it to my crotch. “And he doesn’t have to know. This can be our little secret.”
Mom’s breath hitched as she felt my hard cock through my boxers, her fingers curling instinctively around it. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and conflicted, but the desire was evident in their depths.
“Jason, we can’t… we shouldn’t…” she murmured, even as her hand began to slowly stroke my length through the fabric.
“Shh,” I whispered, leaning in closer. “Just let it feel good, Mom. Let me make you feel good.” My hand slid up her thigh, pushing the hem of her nightie up. She trembled under my touch, her skin warm and soft. When my fingers brushed against the lace of her panties, she gasped, her hips instinctively lifting towards me.
“God,” she breathed, her head falling back as I began to rub her through the damp material. “Jason, we’re going too far. This is wrong…”
“Mom,” I whispered, my voice low and husky with desire. “Stop fighting it. Stop pretending you don’t want this, that you don’t want me.” My fingers slipped beneath the lace, parting her folds and finding her slick heat. She cried out softly, her hips bucking against my hand.
“You’re so wet,” I murmured, my fingers sliding easily inside her. “So ready for me.” I began to pump my fingers in and out, my thumb circling her clit.
Mom’s body arched into your touch, her breath coming in ragged gasps as you fingered her.”God, Jason,” she panted, her hands gripping your shoulders tightly.”This is… we can’t…”
“Do you want my cock inside you or not,” I demanded.
Mom’s eyes fluttered open, her pupils dilated with lust as she stared at you, her chest heaving.”Yes,” she breathed, the word barely audible. “God help me, yes.”
With a low growl, I pushed her onto her back and climbed on top of her, settling between her spread thighs. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down, tossing them aside. Mom lifted her hips, helping me remove the barrier. I sat back on my heels, drinking in the sight of her naked, spread out beneath me like a feast.
“Are you sure about this, Mom?” I asked, my voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Once we start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”
Mom’s eyes locked onto yours, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stared up at you, her son, her lover. She licked her lips, her gaze drifting down to your hard, throbbing cock.
“I’m sure,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. “I want you, Jason. I want your cock inside me.”
She reached out, wrapping her hand around your shaft, guiding you to her entrance. The feeling of her warm, wet folds against the head of your dick sent a shiver down your spine. “Fuck me,” she breathed, her hips lifting slightly, seeking more contact. “Fuck your mother’s pussy.” With a grunt, you thrust forward, burying yourself balls-deep inside her in one smooth motion. Mom cried out, her back arching off the bed as you filled her completely.
“Oh god, Jason!” she gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders.
“Fuck, Mom,” I groaned, pulling back slowly before slamming into her again, setting a hard, fast pace. Her pussy felt incredible, hot and tight and wet, gripping me like a velvet vice. “You’re so fucking tight. Love your pussy.”
“Ahh! Jason!” Mom cried out, her head thrashing from side to side as I pounded into her. “It’s… it’s because it’s been so long. Your father never… never fills me up like this.”
I leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss, swallowing her moans as I continued to drive into her. My hips slapped against hers, the sound of our flesh meeting echoing through the room. Mom’s legs wrapped around my waist, her heels digging into my ass, urging me deeper. “Harder,” she panted against my lips. “Fuck me harder, Jason.”
I thrust into her harder, faster, the bed creaking beneath us as I pounded her into the mattress. Mom’s cries grew louder, more desperate, her body shaking with the force of my thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted, her voice hoarse with pleasure.
I started kissing her neck and making my way down as I pulled at the neckline of her nightie and freed one boob. My ass went up and down as my cock was plunging in and out.
Mom gasped as you exposed her breast, the cool air hitting her sensitive nipple. She arched her back, pressing herself into my touch as I took her hardened peak into your mouth. “Jason!” she cried out, her fingers threading through my hair, holding me against her chest.
My tongue swirled around her nipple, teasing and sucking, while my hand kneaded her other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between my fingers. Mom’s hips bucked wildly beneath me, her pussy clenching around your cock as I continued to pound into her.
“Yes, just like that,” she panted, her head thrown back in ecstasy. “Suck on my tits while you fuck me.”
My mouth moved from one breast to the other, lavishing attention on both hardened peaks as I drove into her relentlessly.
I slam my hips forward, driving my thick cock deep into Mom’s tight, wet pussy. Her walls clench around me, gripping my shaft like a velvet vice as I pound into her relentlessly. “Fuck, Mom!” I grunt, my balls slapping against her ass with each thrust. “Your cunt feels so fucking good.”
Mom’s head thrashes on the pillow, her mouth open in a silent scream as I hammer into her. “Jason! Oh god, Jason!” she cries out, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “Fuck me harder! Destroy my pussy with your big cock!”
I oblige, gripping her hips and pulling her onto my dick with each thrust. The wet, sloppy sounds of our fucking fill the room, mingling with Mom’s loud, desperate moans. “Take it, Mom,” I growl, my hips moving like a piston. “Take every inch of it.”
Mom’s body trembled beneath you, her pussy convulsing around your thrusting cock as she neared her peak. “Jason, I’m… I’m going to come!” she cried out, her voice shrill with desperation.”Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
I felt her pussy clamp down on me, her muscles spasming as her orgasm crashed over her. “Fuck, Mom!” I groaned my own release building in my balls. “Come on my cock. Milk my cock and balls dry.”
Mom screamed as she came, her body shaking violently, her pussy gripping me like a fist. I slammed into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt as I exploded inside her. “Ahhh!” I yelled, my cock pulsing as I filled her with my hot seed. “Take my cum, Mom!”
Mom’s body trembled against mine, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to regain her composure. I could feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
“That was…” she panted, her voice barely audible, “that was incredible.” She looked up at me, her eyes glazed with a mixture of awe and unbridled lust.
I smiled down at her, my hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.”I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mom,” I murmured, my voice low and husky. “Because I know I did.”
1 year later.
Mom and I had been sneaking around, stealing moments together whenever we could. It was a dangerous game, but the thrill of it, the forbidden nature of our affair, only served to heighten our desire. We had to be careful, of course. Dad couldn’t know, and neither could anyone else. It was our secret, a delicious taboo that bound us together.
One evening, as Dad was out with friends, Mom came to my room, slipped inside and locked the door behind her. She was wearing a silky robe that clung to her curves, her hair freshly washed and smelling of her favourite shampoo.
“Jason,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief and desire.”Your father won’t be back for hours. I thought…I thought maybe we could have some fun.” I grinned, pulling her into my arms and capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “Fun, huh?”I murmured against her mouth.
The end.