It was mortifying to find those crusty socks. The evidence of Bobby’s… burgeoning sexuality was a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the years that had passed, the gap between my own desires and the reality of my single motherhood. But the socks were one thing. The night time intrusions were another level of violation.
The first few times, I’d dismissed it as a bad dream. A fleeting sensation of a hand brushing my leg, a whisper of movement in the dark. But then came the unmistakable tug of my panties being pulled down. I’d jolted awake, my heart hammering against my ribs, adrenaline flooding my system. Each time, it was Bobby.
That night, around 2:45 am, it happened again. The slow, deliberate drag of fabric against my skin. This time, I was ready. I grabbed the waistband, yanking my panties back up with a sharp, defiant tug.
“Sweetie, no,” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low and controlled. “We need to talk. This… this can’t keep happening. Your mom’s body is off-limits. Do you understand?”
He recoiled as if I’d slapped him. The moonlight filtering through the gap in the curtains illuminated his flushed face, the shame etched into his features.
“Shit, Mom, I… I don’t know what to say.” He was a deer caught in headlights, all awkward limbs and stammered apologies.
I sat up, pulling the sheet around me. My own body was betraying me, a dull ache thrumming between my legs, a cruel reminder of the years of celibacy. “Like, what is your plan, Bobby? What do you think is going to happen when you get my panties down?”
He shuffled his feet, avoiding my gaze. “Sorry, Mom. I just… I’m so horny all the time. I read this… sleep sex thing online. I just thought… well, you know…” He trailed off, his voice barely a whisper. Then, he looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of shame and raw desire. “I bet your pussy is good, though. Wish I could have sex with you.”
The audacity of it! And yet, a strange, unsettling heat flared within me. I pushed it down, forcing myself to maintain a stern façade. “Well, you’re never going to have sex with me. Ever. This has to stop, Bobby. You need to find another outlet for… for your urges. I am buying a lock for my door tomorrow.”
The next few days were tense. I managed to fit a lock on my door. Bobby was withdrawn, avoiding eye contact. I tried to act normal, but the undercurrent of unspoken desire and betrayal hung heavy in the air.
Then came the girls’ night. I’d invited a few friends over – Sarah, Michelle, and Linda. It was supposed to be a relaxing evening of wine, gossip, and maybe a movie. But from the moment Linda walked in, things felt… different.
Linda was always the most… vibrant of our group. She dressed bolder, laughed louder, and had a way of drawing attention without even trying. Tonight, she was wearing a low-cut top that showcased her ample cleavage. And Bobby couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He sat across from us on the couch, ostensibly watching the TV, but his gaze kept drifting back to Linda. I saw the way his eyes lingered on her breasts, the barely concealed hunger in his expression. And Linda… Linda was lapping it up. She’d catch his eye and give him a sly, knowing smile, subtly adjusting her top to reveal a little more.
The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension. I felt a knot of unease tightening in my stomach.
After a couple of hours, Linda excused herself to use the bathroom. A few minutes later, Bobby vanished. I sighed, a premonition settling over me. What was he up to now?
I made some excuse about needing to check on something upstairs and went to investigate. As I reached the hallway leading to the bathroom, I heard it. A low, guttural moan, followed by a series of muffled sounds.
My heart lurched. I crept closer, pressing my ear against the bathroom door.
“Oh, yeah, Bobby,” Linda’s voice, husky and breathless, filled the small space. “You like older pussy, huh? Your dick’s bigger than my husband’s. Never had an 11-inch cock up my cunt before.”
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by Linda’s moans. “Yeah, that’s it, harder, honey. Fuck that pussy. Ahhh… ummm… harder!”
I froze, my blood turning to ice. My son. My friend. In my bathroom. The betrayal was a physical blow, a punch to the gut that left me gasping for air.
I stood there, paralyzed, listening to the sounds of their explicit encounter. My mind reeled, trying to process what I was hearing. The moans, the gasps, the explicit words… it was a grotesque parody of intimacy.
“Oh, fuck, Bobby, you feel so good,” Linda panted. “Tell me what you’re gonna do to me.”
“I’m gonna fuck you raw, Linda,” Bobby growled, his voice thick with lust. “I’m gonna make you scream my name.”
“Oh, yes, baby, scream for you,” Linda whimpered. “Fill me up, Bobby. Fill me with your cum.”
The sounds intensified, reaching a fever pitch. I could hear the bed frame creaking against the wall, the rhythmic thud of Bobby’s body against Linda’s. Their moans were intertwined now, a symphony of lust and abandon.
I wanted to burst through the door, to scream at them, to make them stop. But I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot, a prisoner of my own shock and disbelief.
Then, amidst the frantic thrusts and moans, I heard something that sent a fresh wave of nausea washing over me.
“You like that, Linda?” Bobby panted. “You like my big cock stretching you out?”
“Oh, yes, baby,” Linda gasped. “It’s the best fuck I’ve had in years.”
The next words that came out of Bobby’s mouth were a brand new level of shock, and for the first time in a long time I felt a tingling between my legs.
“You know Mom’s right downstairs, getting jealous that you’re getting all this dick, right?” Bobby said with a chuckle. “Bet she wishes she was getting this, huh? This 11 inches!”
“Oh, don’t stop,” Linda replied, she sounded drunk with lust. “She can have you later, baby. Right now, you’re all mine. Just keep fuckin’ me like this.”
“I bet she wouldn’t take it this good,” Bobby said, panting heavily. “She’s all tight and proper. You’re a real woman, Linda. You know what you want. You can handle this.”
“That’s right, baby,” Linda moaned. “I know what I want. And I want you, hard and deep.”
I clamped my hand over my mouth, stifling a gasp. The audacity, the sheer disrespect was mind boggling. Bobby was not only having sex with my friend in my house, he was doing it while talking about me, bragging about his size, and openly disrespecting me. I should be furious, I AM furious. But I couldn’t deny the unfamiliar stirrings in my own body. The image of my own son, naked and powerful, dominating Linda, was both repulsive and undeniably arousing.
“Tell me, Linda,” Bobby panted. “Tell me how much you love my cock.”
“Oh, baby, I love it,” Linda moaned. “It’s the best I’ve ever had. Makes me feel like a teenager again. Fill me up, Bobby. Give me all you’ve got.”
The sounds reached a crescendo, a frantic flurry of movement and breathless cries. I could practically feel the energy radiating through the door, a raw, primal force that both disgusted and intrigued me. I felt like I was voyeuring something, a peeping tom, but couldn’t bring myself to walk away. My mind was reeling, a turbulent mix of anger, shame, and an undeniable curiosity. I wanted to barge in there and unleash my fury, but my legs felt like lead, and frankly, I was also curious to hear how it would end.
Finally, with a shuddering groan, Bobby let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Oh fuck…I almost came inside you! That was fucking great! You’re so tight… I’m sorry I got it everywhere.”
“Mmmm, you’re so big! I don’t mind a little extra topping,” Linda whispered, sounding completely satisfied. “That was amazing, Bobby. Truly amazing. You could have just cum in my pussy you know.”
A moment of silence hung in the air, broken only by their heavy breathing. Then, Linda spoke again, her voice softer, almost playful.
“You know, your mom’s gonna kill us if she finds out.” she said panting.
“Let her worry!” Bobby mumbled. “I’m starving after all that work. Let’s go downstairs and eat a burger. Maybe we can find something else to do later.”
“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” Linda giggled. “I like that.”
I went back to the living room, where Sarah and Michelle were engrossed in the movie. I forced a smile, pretending that everything was normal. “Everything okay, Sarah? Michelle?”
Sarah looked at me funny. “You look a little flushed. Everything alright?”
“Just a little warm,” I said, fanning myself with my hand. “Must be the wine.”
A few minutes later, Bobby and Linda emerged from upstairs. Linda looked radiant, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. Bobby, on the other hand, seemed almost subdued, as if the weight of what he had done was finally settling upon him.
They both avoided my gaze. I could feel the awkwardness in the air, the unspoken tension that hung between us. Sarah was also looking at me weird.
“I don’t feel so good, I think I’ve had too much wine,” I said loudly. “Do you mind helping me clean up a bit before you head out?”
I started gathering the empty wine glasses, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Soon Sarah and Michelle were helping me to clean up the mess.
“It’s getting late, I think we better head out,” Linda said, grabbing her purse. “Thanks for the great night.” She hugged me quickly, her smile a little too bright, a little too forced. She winked at bobby as she left.
“Yeah, thanks for having us,” Sarah said, giving me a concerned look. “Call me tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile.
As they walked out the door, I turned to Bobby, my eyes blazing.
“We need to talk” I said, my voice tight with suppressed anger. “Now.”
“Mom, I can explain…” He started, but I cut him off.
“Explain what, Bobby? Explain how you fucked my friend in my bathroom? Explain how you talked about me while you were doing it? Explain how utterly disgusted I am with you right now? She as a fucking husband. Bobby, what you did… it’s not just wrong, it’s a betrayal. In my house, with my friend—my God, Linda’s married. You’re 18! She’s… she’s old enough to be your…” I couldn’t finish; the reality was a bitter pill to swallow.
“What jealous are you,” he said folding his arms and smirking.
“Jealous?!” My voice wavered, then steadied, seething. “I’m mortified, Bobby. For you, for Linda, for the disrespect. You crossed every line tonight.”
He shifted, the defiance fading into a sullen pout. “Sorry, Mom. I didn’t think you’d hear. It just… happened. Linda was teasing, and I couldn’t help it. My body just… it got the best of me. But damn she felt so good.”
“Just go to your room I can’t look at you right now,” I said angry as I sat down but deep down I was jealous. The way Linda begged for his huge cock.
Just as he was about to leave he whispered in my ear, “I dare you to not lock your door tonight and see what happens. I know you want it.”
I ignored him and he went to his room, I went into the kitchen fuck wine I needed something stronger. I grabbed the whisky and poured a drink and downed it. I poured another and sat down at the kitchen table. I couldn’t get Linda’s moaning out of my head.
The night stretched on, the house settling into quiet. Bobby’s words haunted me—“I dare you to not lock your door tonight…” My defiance battled against an unfamiliar curiosity, a twisted desire to see if he’d dare to test the boundary once more. But knowing what I know now, what if I didn’t fight it, what if I pretend to be asleep see how far he goes.
As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the house was silent except for the occasional creak of settling wood, an eerie vigil that underscored my turmoil. I finished the second glass of whisky, the burn in my throat doing little to soothe the riot of emotions churning inside. Each clink of ice against glass echoed in the stillness, a stark reminder of the tumultuous evening.
I couldn’t escape the sounds, the images—Bobby’s boldness, Linda’s pleasure, their raw, unfiltered intimacy. My body betrayed me, the heat between my thighs a constant reminder of my own neglected desires. The thought of Bobby, so aroused and primal, made me shift uncomfortably in my chair. It was as if my body was listening to his whispered dare, a dare I dared not admit I was considering.
With a heavy sigh, I decided. I’d play this twisted game, lay the trap, but on my terms. I’d pretend sleep, feigning ignorance, and see just how far Bobby would go when he thought he was in control. A mix of dread and arousal twisted in my gut as I padded softly upstairs, careful not to wake the house. I slipped into bed, the sheets cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the burning I felt within.
Lying there, I made my breaths deep and even, counting them like a rehearsed mantra, pretending to drift off. The anticipation was a buzzing in my veins, a thrill I hadn’t felt in years, dangerous yet undeniable. My heart thumped like a drum in my chest, loud enough to wake the dead, but I willed my body to stillness, a statue carved of flesh and nervous anticipation.
Time stretched. Then, the doorknob creaked, a whisper of sound that set my pulse racing. The floorboards groaned underfoot, a sign Bobby was creeping closer. He was cautious, a predator in the dark, thinking he had the upper hand.
The bed dipped, his weight beside me. I sensed his heat, the musk of his youth mingling with the remnants of Linda’s perfume still lingering on his skin. My breath hitched, but I kept it steady, an actress in a play of my own devising.
A gentle hand, tentative, touched my arm, testing. It trailed down, a feather-light caress that sent shivers down my spine. Then, bolder, he slid it under the hem of my nightgown, fingertips grazing my skin. I fought the urge to arch into his touch, the sensation electrifying.
“Mom,” he whispered, so close his breath tickled my ear. “You awake?”
I didn’t respond, kept my eyelids fluttering like a sleeping butterfly.
His touch grew bolder. His fingers danced across my stomach, then lower, skimming the edge of my panties. The air was thick with tension, with the forbidden. He hooked a finger under the elastic, pausing, seeking permission in the stillness.
“Mom, you feel so soft,” he murmured, a boy’s wonder in his voice, now rasping with need.
He tugged, and I let out a soft, feigned sigh, the pretense of sleep broken by the whimper of fabric against skin. My panties slid down, the cool air caressing newly exposed flesh. My heart pounded, a wild drum in the silence.
The mattress gave a soft groan under his shifting weight, and I held my breath, feigning sleep. I could practically feel the heat radiating off him as he settled, the rustle of his clothes a stark whisper in the silent room. Then, the unmistakable pressure – his cock, thick and undeniably warm, nudging against my entrance. A shiver ran through me, and my body, traitorous thing, reacted instantly, a slick heat blooming between my legs.
Bobby sucked in a sharp breath, the surprise evident in his tone. “Oh, Mom…” he breathed, the words laced with a potent mix of lust and disbelief. He pressed forward, just the tip slipping inside with a wet, suggestive sound. My hips were suddenly in his hands, firm and possessive. Then, he pushed, slowly, deliberately, until he was buried deep. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to maintain the illusion of sleep, but the sheer fullness of him…Linda’s moans suddenly made perfect sense.
“Oh God, Mom…” he whispered again, his voice raw and trembling. “You’re so fucking wet. So ready.”
I squeezed my eyes tighter shut, the rhythmic sounds of our bodies connecting filling the room. Each thrust echoed in the stillness, a symphony of flesh and skin, the heady scent of arousal thick in the air. He set a slow, deliberate pace, his hips guiding him deeper with each pass. The bed creaked in protest, a counterpoint to the ragged breaths escaping our lips.
His grip tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips as he abandoned any pretense of gentleness. My moans escaped, involuntary and betraying. I couldn’t just lie there, a passive recipient. “Bobby…” I gasped, the sound barely audible.
His rhythm intensified, his breath hot and ragged against my ear. The bed squeaked with each forceful thrust, a blatant announcement of our forbidden act. The sounds we made – the wet, insistent squelch of his cock entering and leaving, the soft slaps of skin – were amplified in the quiet night, painting a vivid picture of our taboo intimacy.
Each thrust sent tremors through me, a bewildering mix of pleasure and guilt. My moans grew louder, undeniable now, as he filled me completely, stretching me in ways I hadn’t been touched in years. The slick, wet noise of his rod sliding in and out of my gash was obscene, like a finger gliding through honey. It was mortifying, and yet, my body seemed to revel in it, my pussy clinging to him, gripping him with each withdrawal, welcoming him back with an eager, wet sound.
“Oh, Mom,” Bobby groaned, “you’re so damn tight. You feel…amazing.” His words, hot and urgent against my ear, shattered my last vestiges of resistance. His hands roamed freely now, groping, squeezing, claiming. My breasts, long neglected, felt the rough caress of his eager hands, fingers tweaking and pinching my nipples, sending jolts of electricity down to where we were joined.
My body betrayed every ounce of moral objection, arching to meet each of his pounding thrusts, craving the fullness, the friction. He hammered into me with a raw intensity, his balls slapping against my ass with a rhythmic thwack. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the heady aroma of our mingled desire.
“You’re so…hot inside,” he panted, his voice laced with primal hunger. “Mom’s pussy loves my dick, doesn’t it?”
His cock hit a spot deep within, sending sparks of pleasure that arched my back, forcing a strangled cry from my lips. I could no longer pretend, not with the way my cunt clenched around him, not with the way he filled me to the brim. My fingers dug into the sheets, clutching at the fabric as if seeking salvation, as he drove me higher, my body a vessel for his lust, my mind a swirling vortex of forbidden ecstasy.
“Say it, Mom,” he demanded, his voice a low growl. “Say how good it feels.”
I choked back a sob, the words caught in my throat, strangled by shame and desire. My body, however, spoke for me. Each grunt, each whimper, each shudder was an admission. The room was alive with the sounds of our lovemaking – his guttural grunts, the slap of skin on skin, my ragged gasps, the frantic symphony of our bodies colliding in the darkness.
The bed protested beneath us, creaking in rhythm with our movements, a blatant chorus to our illicit act. I could feel his heart pounding against my back, a frenzied dance that threatened to consume us both.
Then, without warning, Bobby shifted his pace, slowing to a deliberate, teasing grind. His cock rubbed against every nerve ending inside me, dragging out the pleasure, driving me to the edge of madness.
“Look at you,” he teased, his voice dripping with wicked delight. “You’re soaked, Mom. Your pussy’s dripping for me. Begging for it.”
The sensation of his thick rod, gliding slowly, purposefully, was maddening. His fingers found my clit, teasing with a knowledge that belied his youth, sending me spiraling toward oblivion.
“Come on, Mom,” he urged, his voice a whisper full of dark promise. “Let go for me.”
And I did. A choked cry escaped my lips as my orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave. My cunt clenched around him, milking his cock as the room spun and fractured. Bobby, sensing my release, quickened his pace, chasing his own climax, his breath hot and ragged against my neck as he drove me through wave after wave of pleasure.
With a guttural groan, he came, pulsing deep inside me, filling me with his hot seed. The feeling of him spilling into my depths was a jarring return to reality, a stark reminder of the line we’d crossed. But in that moment, as our bodies stilled, all that remained was our ragged breathing, a shared rhythm in the aftermath of our sin.
For one suspended moment, we lay tangled together, a mess of limbs and raw emotions, the air thick with the weight of our actions. He withdrew slowly, the sound of our separation a sad, wet sigh, the final, forlorn note in our secret symphony.
Bobby rolled off, his chest heaving, and I turned to face him, our eyes locking in the darkness. There was a flicker of something there, a fleeting connection, a hint of understanding. But it was quickly extinguished, swallowed by the wave of shame that washed over the room like a sudden chill.
“Mom,” he started, voice softer now, remorse creeping in. “I… I didn’t mean to—”
I put a finger to his lips, silencing him. The words hung between us, unspoken apologies and unmade promises. In the silence, we both knew nothing would ever be the same. Our secret, raw and visceral, bound us in a way nothing else could.
“Get some rest, Bobby,” I whispered, turning away, my back to him. I panted with a smile on my face and I put my hands on my pussy. I could feel his cum leaking out my well fucking pussy lips. “Oh and thank you that felt great.”