Sunday morning sunlight, muted and dusty, slanted through the blinds as I slowly wrestled myself awake. A long stretch, a rub of gritty eyes, and I finally pushed off the mattress. Just my boxers. Feeling the cool floorboards underfoot, I shuffled towards the bathroom, the promise of a hot shower the only real motivation to leave the bed’s embrace.
The shower did its job, washing away the last vestiges of sleep. Wrapped in a towel cinched loosely around my waist, I padded back to my room, mist still clinging to my skin. Time to find something to wear.
“Sam! Breakfast!” Mom’s voice, clear and warm, floated up from downstairs, cutting through the quiet ease of the morning.
“Just getting dressed, Mom!” I called back, towelling my hair dry with one hand as I stood before the open wardrobe door, the familiar scent of clean laundry mingling with the faint steam from the shower.
Clothes selected and pulled on – the usual comfortable Sunday attire – I headed downstairs. The kitchen was a symphony of morning sounds and smells: the gentle clinking of crockery, the rich aroma of coffee, the unmistakable, mouth-watering sizzle of bacon.
And then I saw her. Mom was standing at the counter, her back mostly to me, pouring coffee. She was wearing a simple tank top and a pair of those skin-tight yoga pants she liked. The fabric of the tank top hugged her torso, defining the curve of her back and the gentle slope of her shoulders. But it was the yoga pants that drew my eye, clinging like a second skin. They sculpted her form completely, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination when it came to the shape of her lower body.
My gaze locked onto the distinct, rounded curve of her backside, sharply defined by the unforgiving material. A jolt, hot and sudden, went through me. God, she has a… nice one. The thought was instant, unbidden, and landed like a punch to the gut. No. Stop. Don’t look. Don’t think like that. I clamped down on the thought, mentally recoiling. It was Sunday morning, for crying out loud. Why was my brain deciding now to be like this? I gave my head a sharp, internal shake, trying to physically dislodge the inappropriate image, forcing focus onto the safe, neutral details – the steam rising from the coffee pot, the stack of pancakes on the table.
“Morning,” I managed, though the word felt a little sticky in my throat as I walked fully into the kitchen.
The table was already set, a plate piled high with golden pancakes and crispy bacon sitting invitingly. Mom turned from the counter, a warm, easy smile on her face, mug in hand.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she chuckled, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “Glad you finally decided to join the land of the living.” As she shifted slightly, turning more fully towards me, the movement of the tight yoga pants drew my eyes down again, involuntarily. And there it was, undeniable, the clear, taut outline defined by the fabric right between her legs—the unmistakable cameltoe. Another wave of acute, confusing awareness washed over me, a hot flush rising to my cheeks.
“Sit down,” she said, gesturing to the table, completely oblivious to the internal turmoil I was experiencing. “Dig in before it gets cold.”
I moved towards the table, each step feeling oddly heavy. My eyes fixed resolutely on the plate of food, then on the checkered tablecloth, anywhere but back at her. I pulled out the chair and sank into it, trying to project an air of casual morning ease, like this was just any other Sunday. It wasn’t. My brain felt scrambled, a frantic mess of ‘don’t look,’ ‘what the hell is wrong with you,’ and the lingering, unwanted echo of what I’d just seen.
Mom came over and placed a mug of coffee in front of me, then sat down across the small table, spooning a generous dollop of butter onto her own pancakes. She had perfect cleavage and her nipples pressed against her tank top, shit was she not wearing a bra. “So, any plans for today? You promised to help me with the garden beds, remember?”
I heard her but I was in a trance staring at her tits, they looked great. My dick started to harden in my jeans.
“Yeah, of course. I remember. I’ll help you with the garden beds after breakfast.” I forced a casual tone, hoping she wouldn’t notice the awkwardness that had descended upon me. She noticed me staring at her chest and smirked.
“Y-you ok Mom,” I said as I tried not to look at her boobs.
She held my gaze for a moment too long, that knowing smirk lingering in the corner of her mouth as she took another slow sip of coffee.
“Me?” she finally replied, her voice smooth, almost lazy. “Oh, I’m just peachy.” She lowered the mug, her eyes flicking down to me for just a heartbeat before meeting my eyes again. “You seem a little… preoccupied though. Everything okay?”
“Nah, I’m… I’m okay, Mom,” I finally managed, forcing out the words. I tried to smooth my voice, to sound casual, unaffected. “Just… uh… just hungry, I guess. Woke up starving.” It was a weak excuse, and I knew it. I immediately focused on the plate of pancakes in front of me, picking up my fork as if the food was the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Mmm sure, hey young man just remember I am your mom ok,” she said still smirking, was she flattered by how I looked at her?
“Why… why wouldn’t I know you’re my mom?” I stammered, trying to sound innocent, like this whole conversation wasn’t weirdly charged. I shoveled a piece of bacon into my mouth, anything to have something to do besides meet her gaze. Seriously, why was she making this so hard?
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her voice still light, but there was something else there, something I couldn’t quite read. “Sometimes people forget. Get… distracted.”
Okay, she leaned forward a little. “Distracted?” Was she just messing with me, or did she actually know what was going through my head? My cheeks felt hot, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the steam off the pancakes or just plain embarrassment. Her tits hung down in her tank top.
“Nah, I’m not distracted,” I mumbled around a mouthful of bacon, trying to sound as normal as possible. “Just thinking about… uh… how much weeding we’re gonna have to do in those garden beds. Remember that patch of dandelions last year? Took forever.”
She just smiled, a little knowing smile that made my stomach clench. “Oh, I remember the dandelions,” she said softly. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table, and the movement… well, it didn’t help. I forced myself to look at the pancakes again. Stacked high, golden brown, just how she made ’em. Why couldn’t I just focus on the pancakes?
“Anyway,” she continued, her voice still that easy, relaxed tone. “We can tackle the garden whenever you’re ready. No rush on a Sunday, right? Unless you have a big date or something?” She raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of playful challenge in her eyes.
“Uh, no, Mom. No date,” I said, maybe a little too quickly. “Just… you know. Sunday. Trust me I wish I had a date right about now haha.”
Mom just kept that little smile. “Oh, I bet you do,” she said, picking up her fork. “Lots of things on a young man’s mind, I suppose. Wish I was young again.”
Later that afternoon we were sweating with the sun in the back garden. As I worked alongside my mom in the garden, I couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed about the thoughts I’d had earlier. I kept glancing over at her, trying to gauge if she knew what had been going on in my head. But she seemed completely normal, chatting away about this plant and that flower, giving me tips on how to prune and water them properly.
I focused on the task at hand, trying to lose myself in the rhythm of digging and planting. The sun beat down on us, making the air thick and heavy. Sweat dripped from my brow, and I could feel the muscles in my arms and back straining with the effort.
“Hey, Sam,” Mom called out, breaking the silence. “Can you hand me that trowel over there?”
I reached over and grabbed the tool, passing it to her handle-first. Our fingers brushed against each other for a brief moment, and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot up my arm. I quickly pulled away, hoping she hadn’t noticed.
But she must have, because she gave me a sly little smile. “Thanks, sweetie,” she said, her voice low and soft.
I nodded, feeling my face grow hot. I turned back to my own gardening, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in my stomach.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of dirt and sweat. By the time we finished, the sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the yard. Mom and I stood back and admired our handiwork, feeling a sense of satisfaction and pride.
“You did a great job today, Sam,” Mom said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. I looked at her chest all sweaty and her tank top looked damp. “Thanks, Mom. I had fun. You look achy mom, maybe ill give you a massage later.”
Mom paused, her hand still on my shoulder. She looked from my face down to my chest, then back up, that little smile still playing on her lips. Did she believe me? Did she know? It was hard to tell.
“A massage, huh?” she said, her voice softer now. “That’s… really sweet of you, Sam. My shoulders are definitely barking after all that digging.” She squeezed my shoulder gently. “Maybe later? After dinner? Let me get cleaned up first.”
“Okay, yeah,” I nodded quickly, maybe too quickly. “After dinner works.” I needed a minute to breathe anyway, you know? To maybe splash some cold water on my face and figure out what was going on with my brain. Was this normal? Did other guys feel this weird? Probably not about their moms, right? Ugh.
Later, after we’d cleaned off the garden dirt and grabbed some quick showers – separate showers, obviously, geez – and Scarface pizza arrived (our Sunday tradition), things felt a little more normal. Eating helped. Talking about school and the weird bird I saw in the garden helped. For a bit, I almost forgot about the whole morning mess.
But the offer was still hanging there. The massage.
After we finished the last slice and Mom was clearing the table, she looked over at me. She was wearing comfy sweatpants now and a loose t-shirt, which, thank goodness, was less distracting.
“So,” she said, stacking plates. “About that massage offer…”
My stomach did a little flip. “Oh, yeah. Right.”
“Still up for it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I said, trying to sound casual. Like it was just a normal, everyday thing. Which it wasn’t. I’d never given anyone a massage before, let alone… well, you know.
“Great,” she said, a genuine smile now. “My neck is killing me too. How about on the couch? Just my shoulders and neck?”
“Okay,” I agreed. Simple enough, right? Shoulders and neck. Keep it there. Don’t let your brain wander. Easy. (Spoiler alert: It wasn’t easy).
She settled onto the big comfy couch, lying on her stomach with her head turned to the side, her back facing me. I knelt on the floor behind her, feeling ridiculously awkward. My hands suddenly felt huge and clumsy. What was I supposed to do? Just… rub?
“Just… you know,” she said, her voice muffled by the cushion. “Like you’re kneading dough or something. Whatever feels good. I might need to take this tank top off.”
Whoa. My brain did a full-on stop-and-reverse maneuver. Take it off? Like… all the way off? Just… her back? Right there? On the couch?
“Um,” I managed to say, which wasn’t exactly a cascade of eloquent words. My hands, which felt clumsy before, now felt like giant, sweaty ham hocks. Was she serious? Wasn’t her back covered by the shirt? Could you even massage clothes?
“Yeah,” she said, her voice still a bit muffled, but now sounding more practical than anything else. “It’s just easier on the skin, you know? Less pulling. Makes it feel better. Just turn around for a second, as I don’t have a bra on, and let me lay down.” She shifted slightly.
“Uh, okay. Yeah,” I stammered, scrambling a little to turn around.
“Okay,” her voice came, still soft, maybe a little quieter now. “You can turn back around.”
I took a deep breath that didn’t really help and slowly pivoted. She was lying there, just like before, on her stomach. I could make out a bit of side boob as I stared.
She was lying there. Just her back. Right there. No shirt.
Was this okay? Like, really okay? My brain was screaming “NO!” but also, like, a weird, confused “Huh?” at the same time. It was like those times you’re trying to solve a math problem and your brain just freezes. Error 404: Normal Feelings Not Found.
My hands were still feeling like giant, useless clubs. What if I messed up? What if I hurt her? What if… what if I thought a weird thought and she could tell? Could moms read minds? Sometimes it felt like it.
“So?” she said, her voice still soft. “Whenever you’re ready. Just get those knots out.”
Right. Knots. The mission: Defeat the Knots of Shoulder Pain. My real mission: Don’t Be A Totally Embarrassing, Awkward Weirdo.
Okay. Here goes nothing.
I slowly, so slowly, reached out my hands. They hovered for a second over her back. Her skin looked… well, like skin. Smooth. Warm, probably. My fingers felt shaky.
I gently, carefully, placed my thumbs near her spine, right between her shoulder blades. It felt weird. Really weird. Warm and soft under my fingers. Like… like touching skin. Which, obviously, is what it was, but still. Weird.
I tried to remember what they do in movies when people get massages. They knead, right? Like dough? Okay, dough. Think dough.
I started moving my thumbs in little circles. It felt stiff at first, like I was afraid of breaking her or something. Ridiculous, I know. She’s Mom. She’s like, built like a tank when she needs to be. But still. This was different.
“Ooh, yeah,” she murmured, shifting just a tiny bit. “Right there. That feels good mmmmm.”
I pushed a little harder this time, trying to find those ‘knots’ she talked about. It felt less like dough and more like… well, muscles under skin. Still weird. But maybe slightly less weird than the whole “take your shirt off” part.
“Yeah, right there,” she said again, her voice relaxed now. “A little higher? Between the shoulder blades? That’s where they hide.”
Okay, higher. I moved my thumbs up a bit. It felt bumpy in places, like little hard spots. Were those the knots? Probably. I pressed into one gently, moving my thumbs in circles again.
“Ooh, that’s good,” she sighed, the moans were making me hard.
I pushed a little harder, trying to really work on those bumpy bits. My focus was supposed to be on the knots, right? Not on the… you know. Everything else. But it was hard. Really hard. My face felt like it was on fire, and my heart was doing some kind of frantic drum solo against my ribs. Was she just relaxed? Or was she… feeling something else? Could she tell how weird I felt?
“That’s amazing, Sam,” she mumbled, settling deeper into the couch cushions. “You’ve got a real knack for this. Wow, right there. That’s the spot. It feels better than sex.”
“You joking Mom, sex is well better,” what the fuck did I just say.
“I don’t know honey it’s been years nearly a decade haha,” she chuckled.
I couldn’t believe she owned up to not getting any dick, well not dick exactly but sex. The massage continued my hands slowly becoming more confident on her back. “Mmm, yeah, a little harder,” she encouraged, her voice still soft and relaxed. I pressed my thumbs in deeper, feeling the knots start to loosen under my fingers. It was weird, but also… kind of nice. Like I was helping her. Making her feel better. My hands brushed against her sideboob which didn’t seem to bother her, so I did it again.
As my hands glided over her smooth skin, inappropriate thoughts crept into my head. Mom looked so sexy lying there in just her sweatpants, her back bare and vulnerable. My cock twitched in my pants. No, I couldn’t think this way about my own mother. It was so wrong.
Without thinking, my mouth blurted out, “Well, you haven’t had sex in like…9 years right? Maybe that’s the problem.”
Mom let out a little laugh. “I guess you’re right, honey. It HAS been a while.”
I continued to rub her back, my hands slowly roaming down to the small of her back. I couldn’t believe the words that just came out of my mouth. Did I really just say that? To my mom?!
But Mom wasn’t upset. Instead, she let out a soft giggle. “Oh Sam, you’re such a jokester! I guess I have been feeling a little…pent up lately.”
“Well, any time you need a massage, just let me know,” I quipped back, trying to sound casual even as my heart hammered in my chest. “I’m happy to help relieve some of that tension. Or any kind of…tension…you have, Mom.”
But Mom just laughed again, sounding almost surprised by my cheekiness. “Such a charmer! A mother shouldn’t say this but… I’ll keep that in mind.”
I let my hands roam lower as I massaged, slipping fully under the waistband of her sweatpants to cup and squeeze the firm globes of her ass. Mom let out a breathy moan, pushing back against my groping fingers.
“Ooh Sammie, you naughty boy,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock scandal. “Getting frisky with your mama, huh?”
“Haha, well, what can I say Mom? Looks like someone’s ass is a real handful!” I joked back, giving her plump cheeks another grope. “Sorry, I shouldn’t Mom.”
“Sam! I was just teasing you, you know,” Mom chuckled, twisting around to look at me with a mischievous glint in her eye and one of her nipples slightly exposed. “You didn’t have to actually grab my butt!”
“I-I’m so sorry Mom! I don’t know what came over me,” I stammered, yanking my hands back like I’d been burned. “I’m such an idiot. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or-“
“Sam, it’s okay,” she interrupted, her voice soft and reassuring. “I was only teasing you. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”
I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “You sure? I feel awful, Mom. I never should have…”
“Shhh, it’s alright honey,” she said looking at my crotch and seeing my thick cock straining as she smiled and turned her head back around. “Accidents happen. And I have to admit, it did feel kind of…good. To be touched that way.”
I wonder if I could slowly seduce her, I groped her ass again and squeezed and massaged her cheeks. She willingly peels her yoga pants down just under her ass for me to massage her cheeks. My knuckles grazed against the mound in her panties.
“Wow…that’s amazing,” she said softly, eyes fluttering closed. “I can’t remember the last time my ass felt this good.”
I made sure I accidentally on purpose now and then touch her pussy. Then again, and again. Then I purposely had my hand rubbing her cunt.
“Mom,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Is this okay?”
She turned her head to look at me, her eyes half-closed and a small smile on her face. “Yes, Sam. It’s more than okay.”
With her permission, I continued to massage her ass and pussy. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I had never felt so turned on in my life. I was rock hard, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to fuck her. I so wanted to stretch these panties to the side.
“You sure… like I am rubbing your…” I said as she cut me off.
“Yes, Sam,” she said, her voice a little husky now. “I’m sure. It feels…it feels incredible. God, I can’t believe I am letting you do this to me.”
I stretched her panties to the side exposing her slit, I kissed her clit. “Wow, Mom you shave too.”
“Shit… we shouldn’t be doing this,” she said between moans as I wet my finger and dipped it inside her dry pussy. “oh fuck your… you are… fingering me. I should stop you… Oh fuck. I need a good hard dick right about now.”
“Ohh, Sam… mmm, fuck,” she whimpered, her voice shaky, her hips pushing back against my finger. “You’re… you’re gonna make me… ahh… lose my mind.”
“You like that, Mom?” I growled, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. I slid my finger deeper, curling it slightly, feeling her slick pussy juice coat my skin. “Fuck, you’re so wet. This pussy’s been starving, hasn’t it?”
Her breath hitched, and she let out a desperate little laugh. “God, you’re so… so bad, Sammie. Mmm… don’t stop, though. Please… fuck, don’t stop.”
I didn’t plan to. My free hand gripped her ass cheek, kneading the firm flesh as I spread her wider, exposing more of her dripping cunt. Her labia were pink and swollen, the clit peeking out, begging for attention. I leaned in again, my lips brushing her clit before I sucked it gently, tasting her—salty, tangy, like nothing I’d ever had before. Her whole body jerked, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat.
“Sam! Ohh… fuck, my… my pussy,” she stammered, her voice breaking into a moan as her thighs trembled. “You’re… you’re eating me… oh God, that’s so good.”
I pulled back just enough to look at her, my finger still pumping slowly in and out, the wet squelch of her pussy filling the room. “You taste so fucking good, Mom,” I said, my voice thick with lust. “I’m gonna make this pussy feel so good. Been too long since you had it like this, huh?”
She nodded frantically, her face buried in the couch cushion, her ass still raised high for me. “Y-yes… fuck, yes. Too long. I… I need it, Sam. Need you to… mmm… make me cum.”
That was all I needed to hear. I added a second finger, stretching her tight cunt as I thrust them deeper, my thumb circling her clit. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her hips rocking back to meet every pump of my hand. The sight of her—my mom, all sweaty and shameless, her pussy soaking my fingers—had my cock leaking in my jeans. I wanted to rip them off and bury myself inside her, but I held back, edging myself, wanting to drag this out for her.
“Fuck, look at you,” I muttered, my voice low and dirty. “This pussy’s so hungry, Mom. Sucking my fingers like it’s been waiting for this. Are you gonna cum for me? Gonna soak my hand?”
“Ohh… Sam, I… I’m close,” she gasped, her voice muffled but raw. “Keep… keep fucking me like that. Mmm… harder, baby. Finger Fuck my pussy harder!”
I obeyed, slamming my fingers in faster, the wet slaps of her cunt echoing in the quiet room. Her ass jiggled with every thrust, her sweatpants bunched around her thighs, her panties stretched so tight they might rip. My other hand slid up her back, gripping her shoulder to hold her steady as I finger-fucked her, my thumb pressing harder on her clit. Her moans turned to cries, her whole body tensing as she teetered on the edge.
“Cum for me, Mom,” I growled, leaning down to nip at the soft skin of her ass. “Let this pussy go. I wanna feel it.”
“Oh fuck… Sam… I’m… I’m cumming!” she screamed, her voice breaking as her pussy clamped down on my fingers, pulsing hard. A gush of hot, slick juice flooded my hand, dripping down her thighs, and soaking the couch. Her whole body shook, her ass trembling as she rode out the orgasm, her moans turning to whimpers.
I didn’t stop, slowing my fingers but keeping them moving, milking every last shudder from her. “That’s it, Mom,” I murmured, my voice softer now but still thick with need. “Fuck, you came so hard. This pussy’s a mess now.”
She let out a breathless laugh, her face still pressed into the cushion. “Ohh… God, Sam… that was… mmm… incredible. I haven’t… haven’t cum like that in… forever.”
I pulled my fingers out slowly, watching her pussy twitch as I did, her juices glistening on my skin. I brought my hand to my mouth, licking her taste off my fingers, savouring the tangy sweetness. My cock was screaming for attention now, but I wanted to hear her first. “You okay, Mom?” I asked, my hand resting on her ass, still warm and slick with sweat.
She turned her head, her eyes heavy-lidded, a lazy smile on her lips. “Okay? Baby, I’m… I’m fucking amazing. But…” Her gaze flicked down to the bulge in my jeans, and her smile turned wicked. “Looks like you need some help now, don’t you?”
My breath caught. Was she serious? “Mom, you don’t… I mean, I can—”
“Shh,” she interrupted, shifting to sit up, her sweatpants still around her thighs, her pussy still exposed. “You made me feel so good, Sam. Let me… let me take care of you.” Her voice was low, and sultry, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
Before I could say anything, she reached for my jeans, her fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. My cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, the tip already slick with precum. Her eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft, “Ohh… fuck, Sam. That’s… that’s a big boy.”
I groaned, my head falling back as her hand wrapped around my shaft, stroking slowly. “Mom… shit, that feels… so good,” I managed, my hips bucking into her grip.
She leaned closer, her breath hot against my cock as she looked up at me. “You’ve been so good to me, baby,” she purred. “Now let me make you feel good. Let me suck this big cock.”
Her lips closed around the tip, and I nearly lost it right there. Her mouth was warm, wet, her tongue swirling around the head as she sucked gently, her hand still stroking the base. The sight of her—my mom, on her knees, her lips stretched around my cock—was almost too much. I gripped the couch, my knuckles white, trying to hold back.
“Fuck, Mom… your mouth… it’s so fucking good,” I groaned, my voice hoarse. “Suck it deeper… please.”
She moaned around my cock, the vibration sending a jolt through me as she took me deeper, her lips sliding down my shaft. The wet slurping sounds filled the room, mixing with my grunts and her soft whimpers. Her free hand cupped my balls, squeezing gently, and I felt my orgasm building fast.
“Mom… I’m… fuck, I’m gonna cum soon,” I warned, my hips thrusting slightly, fucking her mouth. “You gotta… slow down or—”
She pulled off with a wet pop, her lips shiny with spit and precum. “Not yet, baby,” she said, her voice teasing. “I want you to fuck me first. I want this cock in my pussy.”
My brain short-circuited. “You… you sure?” I stammered, even as my cock twitched at the thought.
“Oh, I’m sure,” she said, standing to shove her sweatpants and panties all the way off. She turned, bending over the couch, her ass high, her pussy dripping and ready. “Fuck me, Sam. Fuck your mom’s pussy hard.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I stood behind her, my hands gripping her hips as I lined my cock up with her slick entrance. The head brushed her lips, and she moaned, pushing back against me. I pushed forward, slow at first, feeling her tight pussy stretch around me, inch by inch until I was buried deep inside her.
“Ohh… fuck, Sam!” she cried, her voice raw. “Your cock… it’s so big… mmm, it’s filling me up!”
“God, Mom… your pussy’s so tight,” I groaned, my hands digging into her hips as I started to thrust, slow and deep. The wet slap of our bodies echoed, her ass bouncing with every pump of my cock. “I’m fucking you so good, aren’t I? This pussy loves my dick.”
“Yes… yes, fuck me harder!” she begged, her voice breaking as she gripped the couch. “Pound my cunt, Sam! Make me cum again!”
I picked up the pace, slamming into her, my balls slapping her clit with every thrust. Her pussy was so wet, so hot, gripping me like a vice. The sounds—her moans, the sloppy wet slaps, my grunts—were obscene, filling the room. I reached around, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing hard as I fucked her.
“Unngh… take my cock,” I grunted loudly from my throat as I pounded her twat harder.
“Ohh… Sam… I’m… I’m gonna cum again!” she screamed, her pussy clenching tight around my cock. “Don’t stop… fuck my pussy… make me squirt!”
Her words pushed me over the edge. I felt her pussy spasm, a hot gush of liquid soaking my cock and balls as she squirted, her whole body shaking. “Fuck, Mom… I’m cumming!” I roared, my thrusts slowing as I buried myself deep, my cock pulsing as I shot load after load of hot cum inside her.
“Ohh… yes!” she moaned, pushing back against me, milking every drop. “I want all your cum in my pussy, baby.”
I continued to shoot another load emptying my sack into the back of her pussy. I kept pounding harder making sure she got every last drop.
I collapsed against her, both of us panting, sweaty and spent. My cock softened inside her, and I felt our mixed juices dripping down her thighs. She let out a soft, satisfied laugh, turning her head to look at me.
“God, Sam… that was… fuck, that was amazing,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I haven’t been fucked like that in… ever.”
I pulled out slowly, watching my cum leak from her pussy, and grinned. “Anytime, Mom. Anytime you need this cock, you just say the word.”
She smirked, reaching down to wipe some of the cum from her thigh, licking it off her fingers. “Oh, baby, I’m gonna hold you to that. Even though we shouldn’t but your dick felt good.”
I sighed, “Yeah, I have been dying to shag you all morning haha.”
“We better get dressed,” she said picking up her clothes and starting to get dressed.