“I feel like… sh… shit sweetie,” I slurred, the room doing a dizzying waltz around me. I definitely overdid it tonight. The cheap wine and forced laughter were catching up in a messy, regrettable tide.
“It’s getting late, Mom, we should get a cab,” Jamie said, his voice a mixture of concern and exasperation. He gently guided me away from the sticky surface of the bar, his hand firm but careful on my arm.
“I… I don’t know… I mean, a taxi… we could just book a room… up… stairs. I don’t… don’t want your dad… seeing me like… this.” My tongue felt thick and clumsy, each word a struggle to wrestle into shape. I clung to Jamie, the familiar scent of his laundry detergent and youthful energy grounding me, ever so slightly.
He sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that spoke volumes. I knew he hated seeing me like this. He hated the shame I brought down on myself – and, by extension, on him. But tonight, the thought of facing David’s disapproving silence was unbearable. Anything was better than that.
“Okay, Mom,” he said, reluctantly. “Let’s see if they have anything.”
He approached the barman again, a burly man with a weary face and a stained apron. “Excuse me,” Jamie said, his voice polite, even though I could see the impatience simmering beneath the surface. “Do you have any rooms available?”
The barman ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Just the one, mate. Number six. But it’s a single. That’s all we got left.”
Jamie’s shoulders slumped. “A single?” He turned to me, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. He knew what I’d say. He knew I was going to be difficult.
“We take it!” I blurted out, surprising even myself. My voice was louder than I intended, a slurred, drunken declaration that echoed in the dimly lit bar. Jamie’s jaw dropped. He opened his mouth to object, to tell the man we’d be fine taking a cab, but I cut him off. “We… we take it,” I stammered, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “S-single is fine. Perfectly f-fine.”
The barman just shrugged. “Alright, love. That’ll be fifty quid. Key’s right here.” He slid a tarnished brass key across the counter.
Jamie stared down at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and something akin to pity. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew I’d regret it in the morning. But he didn’t argue. He knew that arguing when I was like this was like trying to push water uphill.
He paid the barman, took the key, and then, with a sigh that could have cleared out the whole bar, he helped me towards the stairs. Each step was a wobbly, precarious journey. My head swam, and the cheap floral carpet seemed to rise up and try to trip me.
As we finally reached the door of room six, I leaned heavily against Jamie, my breath ragged. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a cramped room with a single bed covered in a faded, patterned bedspread. A single, bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows that only amplified the grimness of the scene.
“Here we are, Mom,” Jamie said, his voice flat. “Home sweet home. We dont have any nightwear to change into. I can sleep in my boxers, but what about you?”
“I… I will, s-sleep in… m-my bra and… panties,” I giggled, as I struggled to get out of this dress.
Jamie didn’t react to my slurred declaration, his face remained a mask of weary resignation. He simply held me steady as I fumbled with the zipper of my dress, the cheap fabric snagging and resisting my clumsy attempts. Finally, with a triumphant yank, it gave way, and the dress pooled around my feet.
Jamie just stared at my body, “you… get a good… v-view.”
“Your beautiful mom, dad is a lucky guy,” he said, eyeing me up. If only I felt loved and lucky.
The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. “L-Lucky?” I echoed the word, catching in my throat like a fishbone. “If only… if only you knew, sweetie.”
I swayed slightly, the room tilting again. Jamie steadied me, his grip firm on my arms. “Mom, don’t. Not tonight. Let’s just…let’s just get you into bed.”
“Mmm, now… there’s an… an offer I haven’t… had… had in ages,” I started to get tingling between my legs. I shouldn’t be, but the alcohol always turns me on.
Jamie’s face paled. He quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing an unbecoming shade of red. “Trust me, I wish.”
My heart ached at his reaction. Shame, disgust, maybe even a flicker of fear – I saw it all reflected in his eyes. God, I was a mess. A pathetic, drunken mess. Also, so fucking horny right now.
I lay on the bed and Jamie sits near me, his hand on my thigh.
His hand felt heavy, a foreign weight on my skin, even though it was my own son’s. Maybe it was the context, the cheap hotel room, the fog of wine blurring the lines between mother and son. Or maybe, deep down, there was a buried, twisted desire I’d never dared to acknowledge, not even to myself.
“Jamie,” I mumbled, my voice thick with wine and something else, something darker, “that feels… nice.”
He flinched, his hand tensing on my thigh. “Mom, I…I didn’t mean to…” He stammered, mortified, trying to pull his hand away. I felt a pang of guilt, seeing the horror in his eyes. This was wrong. Terribly, irrevocably wrong. But as his hand brushed against me, a jolt of something electric coursed through my veins. It was a dangerous game I was starting.
“N-no,” I slurred, my hand reaching out to cover his, holding it in place. “Don’t… don’t stop.” The words escaped before I could fully process them, a shameful whisper in the dim room. I wanted to take them back, to rewind the last few minutes, but the alcohol had loosened my inhibitions, and the forbidden thrill of the moment held me captive.
He froze, his eyes wide with disbelief and a dawning understanding of the situation. “Mom? Are you… are you sure?” His voice was barely a whisper, laced with a mixture of shock and a strange, hesitant curiosity.
I lifted my hips slightly, pressing against his palm. “Ahh,” I moaned softly, the sound echoing in the small room. “Your rubbing mommy’s 61-year-old pussy.” The words were crude, shocking, even to my own ears, but they felt…liberating. A lifetime of suppressed desires and unspoken needs was finally spilling out, fueled by cheap wine and a reckless disregard for the consequences.
He didn’t pull away. Instead, he hesitated for a moment, then, with a deep breath, his fingers slipped beneath the elastic of my panties. A gasp escaped my lips as his skin made contact with my own, the sensation both intensely pleasurable and profoundly wrong.
“Should I stop, Mom?” he whispered, his voice husky with a mixture of guilt and arousal. His fingers were tentative at first, exploring my dampness with a nervous touch.
I closed my eyes, the world spinning once more, but this time, it wasn’t from the alcohol. It was from the sheer audacity of what was happening. “No,” I breathed, my voice trembling. “Please… don’t. I… I would prefer… sex instead, honey. Can.. can I see your cock.”
I rub his boxers against his straining shaft as he lets out a little moan, “sweetie… y-your hard for me.”
“I am mom, I am so tempted to…” he stopped.
“Tempted… to… to what?” he said as he whimpered as I put my hand in his boxers and pulled his hard cock out. I started stroking it.
“Tempted… to… to what?” I repeated my words thick and slow, but laced with a dangerous anticipation. My hand moved rhythmically on his shaft, the smooth skin taut beneath my fingers. He was so beautifully hard, so… alive. David hadn’t been this alive for years. Perhaps never.
Jamie’s breath hitched. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and conflicted in the dim light of the room. “Tempted to… to give you what you… What you seem to want, Mom,” he finally whispered, the words barely audible. He swallowed hard, and I could see the pulse throbbing in his neck.
A thrill, sharp and illicit, shot through me. He understood. He actually understood. For years, I’d felt invisible, unwanted, a fading wallpaper in David’s life. And here was my son, seeing me, desiring me, even in this messy, shameful state. It was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit I couldn’t resist tasting.
“And… and do you want to, sweetie?” I pushed, my voice husky, almost a purr. I increased the pressure on his cock, feeling it jump in my hand. He groaned softly, a sound that vibrated through me, awakening something dormant deep within.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if battling with himself. When he opened them again, they were filled with a turmoil that mirrored my own. “Mom… this is wrong. So wrong.”
Ah, the voice of reason. The voice I should be listening to. But the wine, the years of neglect, the sudden spark of desire… it all coalesced into a defiant rebellion against what was right, against what was expected. “Wrong?” I scoffed, a bitter edge creeping into my slurred words. “What’s right has gotten me…precisely nowhere, Jamie. Years of… of being good, being… dutiful. And for what? To be ignored? To be… to feel like I don’t… even exist?”
Tears pricked at my eyes, hot and unwelcome. The self-pity was rising, fueled by the alcohol and the reckless abandon of the moment. I tightened my grip on his cock, my thumb tracing the sensitive ridge beneath the head. “Don’t you think… don’t you think mommy deserves… just a little… pleasure? Just for once, to feel… desired? To feel… alive?”
My voice cracked on the last word. I knew I was manipulating him. Knew I was playing on his guilt, his filial duty, his… perhaps, something else, something I dared not name even to myself. But I didn’t care. Right now, in this dingy room, with his hand on my thigh and his hard cock in my hand, I felt… powerful. In control. Something I hadn’t felt in… God, I couldn’t remember when.
Jamie remained silent for a long, agonising moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was torn, I could feel it in the tremor of his body, in the conflict warring in his eyes. He was on the edge. And I was pushing him, pushing him right over.
“Say yes, sweetie,” I whispered, leaning closer, my breath hot on his ear. “Say yes… to mommy.” My fingers teased the tip of his cock, and he gasped, a sound that was half pain, half pleasure.
He looked at me, really looked at me, his gaze piercing through the drunken haze and reaching something raw and vulnerable beneath. And in that look, I saw something… confused, yes, and wrong, horribly wrong, but also… something else. Something that made my heart clench with a mixture of fear and a desperate, reckless hope.
“Yes,” he breathed, the word a broken, reluctant surrender. “Yes, Mom. But… God, Mom, this is…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. We both knew what ‘this’ was. A line crossed, a taboo shattered. And as a strange, terrifying excitement coursed through me, I knew, with a chilling clarity, that there was no going back.
His hand moved from my thigh, trembling, and reached for the waistband of his boxers. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes locking with mine, a silent plea for me to stop him, to pull him back.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. The dam had broken, and the floodgates were open. And in the torrent of alcohol-fueled desire and long-buried loneliness, I was drowning, and pulling my son down with me.
“Oh, Jamie…” I breathed, reaching out with my other hand to cradle his cock. It was hot, heavy, throbbing with life. Too much life. Too much temptation.
He watched me, his expression a mixture of anguish and something else, something darker, something I didn’t want to name. “Do you… Do you want me to… put it in you, Mom?” he asked, his voice raw.
The words hung in the air, stark and brutal. Put it in me. My son. My body. The thought was both repulsive and… electrifying. My legs trembled, and a wave of heat washed over me, settling low in my belly.
I closed my eyes, the room spinning again, faster this time. But it wasn’t just the wine anymore. It was the dizzying precipice I was standing on, the terrifying, exhilarating freefall I was about to take.
“Yes,” I whispered again, the word barely a breath. “Yes, Jamie. Please… I… I need… sex.”
Jamie’s eyes widened, his gaze flicking down to where our bodies were aligned, the head of his cock poised at my entrance. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Are you sure, Mom?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“We can still… we can just hold each other, if you want.”I shook my head, my hair spilling across the pillow.
He pulled my panties to the side as he got between my legs.
“No, sweetie,” I said, my voice low and husky. “I want… I need this. I need you.” With a shaky breath, Jamie slowly pushed forward, the head of his cock parting my folds. I gasped, my back arching off the bed as a jolt of pleasure shot through me.
He was so big, so hard, filling me up in a way that made my eyes roll back in my head.
“Ah, fuck, Mom,” he groaned, his hips pressing forward, sinking into me inch by inch. I whimpered, my nails digging into his back as he filled me, his balls slapping against my ass.
He stilled for a moment, his body trembling above mine, as if savouring the sensation of being inside me. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, feel the heat of his breath on my neck.
Then he began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through me, making my toes curl and my back arch off the bed.
“Mmm, yes, just like that,” I moaned, my voice thick with desire. “Harder, Jamie. Fuck your mom harder.”
He obliged, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper, more forceful. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard slamming against the wall with a rhythmic beat that seemed to match the pounding of my heart.
The thought popped into my head of my husband, his dad. At home watching the game while our son is shagging me. Our song giving me a damn good roding. Did I want to stop it before it was too late? It was already too late, and it felt great. So no, I won’t be stopping him.
“Ahhh, honey, yes…. ahhh… ha-harder, you… love… love mommys pu-pussy.” I managed to say that while he was hammering into me with brutal force.
He groaned, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deep inside me with a force that stole the breath from my lungs.
“Fuck, Mom, you’re so tight,” he growled, his voice strained with effort and pleasure. I wrapped my legs around his waist even tighter, pulling him in deeper, my heels digging into the small of his back.
“Ahh, yes, baby… just like that… so deep… so good…” The room was a blur of motion, a haze of sweat and sex and the primal, animalistic sounds we were making. His cock was a piston, driving into me again and again, each thrust hitting that sweet spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
“Mom… oh God, Mom,” he panted, his breath hot against my neck. “You feel… You feel amazing…”
He continued to pound into me with reckless abandon, the bed creaking and shuddering beneath us. The headboard slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust, the noise echoing through the small room like a primal drumbeat.
“Mmm, yes, Jamie… just like that… harder… faster…” I moaned, my voice a raw, desperate plea. My nails dug into his back, my legs tightening around him as I tried to pull him even closer, to merge our bodies into one.
The room was a haze of sweat and sex, the air thick with the musky scent of arousal. His cock was a blur inside me, a slick, hard pistoning that filled me to the brim. I could feel every inch of him, every vein, every ridge, stretching and filling me in a way that made my head spin.
“Mom… oh fuck, Mom…” he gasped, his breath hot against my ear.
I could feel his body tensing, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared the edge. I wrapped my legs tighter around him, urging him on, my own pleasure building to a fever pitch.
“Ahhh, Jamie… don’t stop… don’t you dare stop,” I panted, my voice a desperate whisper.
“Fuck me… fuck your mom… make me come…” His hips snapped forward one last time, driving his cock deep inside me as he let out a guttural moan. I felt his hot seed spurt inside me, filling me up in a way that made my vision blur.
“Ahhh… oh fuck… yes… yes… oh God, Jamie…” I cried out, my body arching off the bed as a powerful orgasm ripped through me. My pussy clenched around him, milking his cock for every last drop as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.
As the aftershocks of our shared climax subsided, Jamie collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I could feel his heart racing against mine, the sweat-drenched skin of his back slick beneath my fingers. For a moment, we lay there in silence, the only sound the heavy rasp of our breathing. The room was still, the only movement the gentle rise and fall of our chests.
Then, slowly, Jamie pulled back, his body sliding out of mine with a soft, wet sound. I felt the emptiness, the sudden lack of pressure and heat, and a small whimper escaped my lips. He rolled onto his side, facing me, his eyes searching mine in the dim light.
“Mom… are you okay?” His voice was soft and concerned, with the earlier tension and guilt still lingering in his tone. I nodded, a small, shaky smile on my lips. “I’m… I’m more than okay, sweetie.”
I reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead, my fingers lingering on his skin. “That was… incredible.”
He blushed, his cheeks reddening even further in the low light. “Yeah,” he mumbled, avoiding my gaze. “It was…”
He trailed off, unsure how to express what he was feeling. The air hung heavy with unsaid words, a tangled mix of pleasure, guilt, and confusion.
“Jamie,” I said softly, drawing his attention back to me. “Look at me.” He hesitated, then slowly raised his eyes to meet mine. “What we just did… it was… complicated,” I admitted, choosing my words carefully. “It doesn’t change who we are, or our relationship. But it was… a release. Something we both needed.”
He still looked conflicted, his brow furrowed with worry. “But… Dad…”
“We’ll deal with that later,” I said firmly, cutting him off. “Right now, I just want to enjoy this moment with you. Can we do that?”
He searched my eyes for a long moment, then slowly nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, Mom.”
A wave of relief washed over me. I knew this wasn’t a solution, just a fragile truce in a complicated situation. But for now, it was enough. I reached out and took his hand, interlacing my fingers with his. His skin was still warm and slightly damp, and the simple touch sent a shiver of pleasure through me.
“Come here,” I murmured, tugging him closer. He hesitated for a moment, then complied, snuggling into my side. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. He was so big and strong, yet he felt so vulnerable in my arms. I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of his body against mine. We stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other, lost in the quiet aftermath of our shared experience. The weight of what we had done still hung over us, but for now, it was overshadowed by the simple comfort of being together.
Eventually, Jamie stirred. “Mom?” he said softly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, sweetie,” I replied, my voice gentle.
He took a deep breath. “Do you… do you regret it?”
The question hung in the air between us, thick with tension. I knew my answer would shape the course of our relationship from here on out. I thought about my husband, the guilt, the potential consequences. Then, I looked at Jamie, his eyes filled with a desperate hope.
“No, Jamie,” I said truthfully. “I don’t regret it. It was wrong, yes. Confusing, definitely. But… I don’t regret the connection we shared. The release. The way you made me feel.”
His eyes widened with relief, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Really?”
“Really,” I confirmed, squeezing his hand. “But that doesn’t mean we can just pretend it didn’t happen. We need to figure out what to do next.”
He nodded, his expression turning serious again. “I know,” he said. “But… thank you. For being honest.”
We lay in silence again for a few moments, both lost in thought. The reality of our situation was starting to sink in, the weight of our decisions pressing down on us.
“What do we do now?” Jamie asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, sweetie,” I admitted. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”
For now, that was all I could promise. The future was uncertain, filled with potential pitfalls and challenges. But as long as we faced them together, maybe, just maybe, we could find a way through this. The bond between us had been tested, pushed to its breaking point. But somehow, it had survived. And in that moment, that was all that mattered.