I was in my room, laptop open, indulging in some private time with a taboo video. Just as things were heating up, Dad’s shout cut through the air. “Get in here!”
Cursing under my breath, I quickly minimized the screen and hurried out. Dad was pacing in the living room, phone in hand, a storm brewing on his face.
“Your mother’s at O’Malley’s, piss drunk again,” he spat, his voice laced with contempt. “Go get her. Keys are on the table.”
I grabbed the keys, a knot forming in my stomach. I hated how he talked about her, the constant disrespect and anger. As I headed out to the car, the images from the laptop still lingered in my mind, mixing with the familiar discomfort of my parents’ dysfunctional relationship.
The drive to the bar was filled with a heavy silence. Dad’s words replayed in my head, each one a sharp reminder of the tension that permeated our home. It was a toxic environment, and I often felt like a helpless bystander.
O’Malley’s was dimly lit and crowded, the air thick with the smells of beer and smoke. It didn’t take long to spot Mom. She was perched on a barstool, a half-empty glass in front of her, her laughter a little too loud, a little too forced.
Tonight she was wearing a dress that was a little too short and a the top of it that was cut a little too low, showcasing a generous amount of cleavage. I walked over and gently touched her arm. “Mom, Dad sent me to pick you up.”
Her eyes were a little unfocused, but she recognized me. “Oh, honey,” she slurred, “What are you doing here?”
“Dad’s worried. Let’s go home,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
She sighed, taking another sip of her drink. “He’s always worried. He’s always angry.”
“I know, Mom. But let’s not make it worse. Come home with me.”
It took some persuasion, but eventually, I managed to coax her off the stool. She was a little unsteady, and I had to support her as we walked to the car. The ride was quiet, save for Mom’s occasional sniffles and muttered complaints about Dad.
“Honey, I don’t want to go home, not tonight, not if he’s in a pissy mood,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. I glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of the curve of her breasts in the low-cut top. Even in her inebriated state, there was a undeniable sexiness to her that made me a bit uneasy . The car hit a bump, and I saw her cleavage her tits bounced.
“Where do you expect me to take you to? A motel or something haha,” I laughed but she was dead serious.
“Actually… yeah,” she said, her voice surprisingly firm despite her swaying. “A motel. Just for tonight. Somewhere… neutral. Away from him.”
My heart skipped a beat. The request was so unexpected, so out of character. I pulled the car over to the side of the road, putting on the hazard lights.
“Mom, are you sure? Dad will be furious,” I said, my voice laced with concern.
“Let him be furious,” she retorted, a spark of defiance in her eyes. “He’s always furious anyway Lee. One night away from his anger won’t kill him, or me. Please, honey? Just one night of peace.”
I looked at her, seeing the exhaustion etched on her face, the years of unhappiness weighing her down. I knew that taking her to a motel would only exacerbate the situation with Dad, but I couldn’t bring myself to say no. The plea in her eyes was too strong.
“Okay, Mom,” I relented. “But promise me you’ll be okay. And that you’ll talk to Dad in the morning.”
“I promise,” she said, a small smile gracing her lips.
I found a cheap motel a few miles away, a place with peeling paint and a flickering neon sign. It wasn’t much, but it was a shelter for the night. I helped Mom check in, supporting her as we walked down the narrow hallway to the room.
The room was small and smelled faintly of stale cigarettes. There was a double bed, a small TV, and a rickety table. Mom sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, looking around with a weary sigh.
“Thank you, honey,” she said, her voice softer now. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to,” I replied, sitting beside her. “Are you going to be okay here alone? Is there anything I can get you?”
She shook her head. “Just…stay for a little while. Talk to me.”
For the next hour, we talked. About everything and nothing. About her childhood, her dreams, her regrets. She spoke with a raw honesty that I had rarely seen before, the alcohol loosening her tongue and stripping away the usual facade. She said that she was tired of arguing with Dad, that they were always yelling, and she felt trapped and unloved. She admitted that she drank too much, but it was the only way to escape the pain.
As she spoke, I watched her, really saw her, not just as my mother, but as a woman, a person with her own hopes and fears, her own vulnerabilities. There was something about seeing her like this, so exposed and vulnerable, that stirred something within me. The lingering images of the video from earlier that night resurfaced, mingling with a strange sense of protectiveness and a strange feeling. I was confused.
The cleavage that the dress revealed was hard to ignore in the dim light. So was the knowledge that this was the woman my dad had fallen in love with, and I knew that I would never hurt my mother, but she was drunk, and it was hard to ignore the sexy mother vibe.
I knew I had to leave. “I should get going, Mom. It’s getting late,” I said, standing up.
“Wait, Lee, are you not staying, he will only take it out on you. Stay,” she said, her eyes heavy with sleep.
“There is only one bed Mom, don’t think you wanna share with your son,” I said as I stared at her cleavage.
“Honey, it is just…” she hiccupped, “just for one night. Besides it be good for someone to hold me for comfort.”
I sighed and put the keys down, “Ok Mom. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Mmm promises, joke honey,” She took her dress off and was in her red lingerie and got into bed.
“Mom, damn,” I was shocked she just took her dress off in front of me. I got down to just my boxers. My boxers tented and mom saw it as I climbed over her to get into bed.
She giggled, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Oh, my. Someone’s excited for a sleepover.”
I blushed as I laid on my side behind her with her back facing me, “That’s your fault for stripping in front of me.”
“You could have turned away,” she said teasingly, then sighed contentedly as I spooned her loosely. “Just…just hold me, okay?”
I wrapped my arm around her waist, the proximity sending a jolt through me. It was surreal, lying in bed with my mother, especially after the explicit content I’d been watching earlier. The scent of her perfume mingled with the musty motel air, creating a disorienting mix of comfort and arousal. I focused on the sound of her breathing, trying to ignore the way her body curved against mine. She wriggled her ass against my cock by accident.
My breath hitched. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, but I could feel the heat radiating from her skin. The accidental contact had been brief, but it had ignited a fire within me. I knew this was wrong, incredibly wrong, but the proximity, the vulnerability, the taboo nature of the situation – it was all a potent cocktail that was clouding my judgment.
I tried to relax, to think of anything else, but my body was betraying me. The tent in my boxers was hard and insistent against her back. I closed my eyes, willing myself to calm down, to remember that this was my mother, a woman who was hurting and needed comfort.
But the images kept flashing through my mind – the taboo video, her low-cut dress, the accidental brush of her ass against my erection. It was a struggle between my conscience and my desires, and right now, my conscience was losing.
She shifted again, this time intentionally, nestling her back further into me. “Lee?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Yeah, Mom?” I replied, my voice hoarse.
“I’m cold,” she said, her voice small and plaintive she rolled her ass again against my hard cock.
I hugged into her tightly my shaft resting against her ass crack, “Want me to warm you up.”
Finally, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. “Maybe…”
“Because if you keep wriggling your bum against me, then…” she soundly cut me off.
“Then what, Lee?” she breathed, her voice laced with a hint of something darker, something more primal. She arched her back slightly, pressing her bottom more firmly against my hardness. “Tell me.”
The room was silent except for our breathing, heavy and uneven. The air felt thick, charged with a tension that was both terrifying and exhilarating. I knew I was crossing a line, but the way she was responding, the way she was encouraging me, it was like a drug, addictive and dangerous.
“I’ll show you,” I whispered, my hand sliding up her stomach, over her ribs, until it cupped the soft weight of her breast. She gasped softly, her nipple hardening against my palm. I rolled it gently between my fingers, feeling her shudder against me. Her hand reached back, finding my hip, pulling me closer.
“Lee…” she breathed as I kissed the side of her neck, a warning and an invitation in one syllable. “We shouldn’t.”
“Mom…” I whispered, my voice strained with desire. My hand continued to knead her breast, my thumb brushing over her hardened nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. “I know we shouldn’t, but…” I trailed off, I started to slide her panties down. I took out my cock and I lifted one of her ass cheeks and pressed my cock against her pussy as I sink it inside her.
“Ahhh…” she gasped, her back arching as I entered her. “Oh god, Lee…” Her voice was a mix of pleasure and shock, her body tensing briefly before relaxing, accommodating me. “We can’t… we shouldn’t…” she protested weakly, but her hips moved against mine, contradicting her words.
I began to move, slowly at first, savouring the tight, wet heat of her. She felt incredible, better than anything I’d ever imagined. Her inner walls clenched around me, pulling me deeper with each thrust. I kissed her neck, her shoulder, my hands roaming over her body, relearning every curve and contour.
“Mom, you feel so good,” I murmured, my voice ragged with desire. I hooked my arm under her knee, lifting her leg, opening her up to me. I thrust deeper, harder, the sound of our bodies coming together filling the room.
The room was filled with the sounds of our illicit union – the creaking of the bed, the slick slap of flesh against flesh, our laboured breaths and muffled moans. It was a symphony of sin, a testament to our forbidden desire.
“Lee…” she gasped, her voice a strangled cry as I hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. “Oh god, Lee…it’s wrong, but… but it feels so right.” I couldn’t respond, my throat tight with emotion and exertion. Instead, I doubled my efforts, my hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, a fire that consumed all rational thought.
She was meeting my thrusts now, her body moving in sync with mine, driven by a primal instinct that transcended morality and propriety. Her ass slapping loudly against me as I fucked her pussy.
“Fuck, Mom, your pussy is so tight,” I groaned, my fingers digging into her hips as I pounded into her from behind. The sight of her round ass bouncing against me, the feeling of her warm, wet walls gripping my cock – it was almost too much to bear. She cried out, her fingers clutching at the sheets.
“Lee, baby, your cock… it’s so big,” she panted, her voice thick with pleasure. “It’s stretching me so good.”
I leaned over her, my chest pressing against her back, my lips brushing her ear. “You like that, Mom? You like feeling your son’s big cock inside you?” I whispered, my voice low and husky.
“Yes,” she gasped, her head falling back against my shoulder. “God, yes. I love it. I love your cock, Lee.” Her admission sent a surge of lust through me.
“Oh, fuck…” I groaned, her words driving me wild with desire. I sat back on my heels, pulling her hips up to meet my thrusts. The new angle allowed me to sink even deeper into her, the head of my cock kissing her cervix with each powerful stroke. “You’re so fucking wet, Mom. Soaking my dick.”
She moaned loudly, her fingers scrabbling at the sheets as I ravaged her pussy. “It’s because of you, Lee. Because of your big, thick cock. It’s making me so fucking wet.”
I reached around, finding her clit with my fingers. I rubbed it in tight circles, matching the rhythm of my thrusts. Her body tensed, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “Oh god, Lee… I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum on your cock. Ahhhh…. unngh.”
I felt her pussy clench around me as she came, her juices flooding my cock and dripping down my balls. “That’s it, Mom,” I groaned, fucking her through her orgasm. “Cum for me. Cum on your son’s dick.”
She screamed, her body convulsing with pleasure as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. I kept thrusting, prolonging her climax, my own release building in my balls.
“Lee… oh god, Lee…” she panted, her voice hoarse from screaming. “I can’t… I can’t take anymore…” But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. The feeling of her pussy milking my cock was too good, too addictive. I needed to cum, to fill her up with my seed.
“Just a little more, Mom,” I grunted, my hips moving faster, harder. I felt a gush come out of her pussy and soaked the sheets. I fucked her still with all my might.
I felt the first spasm of my orgasm, a shudder that started in my core and radiated outwards. “Now, Mom!” I cried out, burying myself deep inside her as I came. Hot ropes of semen pumped into her.
“Mommy’s little boy filled me up so good,” she purred, her voice a husky whisper as she slowly came down from her high. “Let’s go to sleep honey, leave it inside of me.”