I’m Sarah. Forty-two years old. Single. And if I’m being honest, probably a little too attached to my son, Ethan.
He’s nineteen now—technically an adult—but in my eyes, he’ll always be my baby. My rock. The one person who gets me. The only one who has ever truly stayed.
It’s been just the two of us since his father walked out when Ethan was five. We’ve been a team, navigating life’s chaos together—skinned knees, homework meltdowns, first heartbreaks (both his and mine). Somewhere along the way, he became my anchor. My safe place. And lately, I wonder if I’m holding onto him a little too tightly.
It started subtly. A bad day at work, a rude customer, a news story that made me feel the weight of the world—Ethan was always there to listen. To reassure. He would nod, offer a warm hug, a gently, “You’re too good for that job anyway, Mom.” And I’d exhale, feeling lighter. Feeling seen.
But lately, he’s been pulling away. Spending more time with his friends, and his new girlfriend. Talking about studying abroad, and moving out after college.
The thought of it terrifies me. Not just because I’ll miss him, but because I honestly don’t know who I am without him. I catch myself checking my phone too often, waiting for his texts. If too many hours go by, I send a casual, “Miss you! How’s your day?” But sometimes, when he takes too long to respond, that panic seeps in. And the messages come in a flurry. “Hey, everything okay?” “Did you eat?” “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”
I know it’s not fair to him. I see the flicker of weariness in his eyes when I launch into another vent session about my boss or my latest dating app disaster. I tell myself I’ll stop. That I’ll find other outlets. But then, the silence of the house presses in, and I reach for my phone again.
And then there’s the jealousy.
It’s not something I want to admit, not even to myself. But when I see his girlfriend’s name flash on his phone, or when he gets that soft look in his eyes talking about her, something in me clenches. What does she have that I don’t? The way she laughs at his jokes, the easy way they touch—does he see her the way he used to see me? When he was younger, I was the most important woman in his life. Now, I feel like I’m being replaced.
I find myself dressing differently. A little more effort, a little more skin. The fitted tank tops, the skirts that show off my legs. Just to see if he notices. And sometimes, he does. A glance. A moment of hesitation before he looks away. And something inside me warms.
I sigh ok, time to step up the heat a little with my dress sense, if he thinks his girlfriend’s hot wait until he sees me. Maybe then tonight he will want to stay at home with me and watch a movie.
Later that night I dug out my shortest nightie, with a big dip neckline. I didn’t wear any underwear underneath either.
I smoothed down the fabric, checking my reflection one last time in the hallway mirror. A little too much? Maybe. But desperate times, desperate measures, right? It wasn’t like I was trying to seduce him. Just… remind him I was still here. Still attractive. Still… Mom. But seducing kept coming to my mind, god it as been years I so need to get laid.
I took a deep breath and walked into the living room, where Ethan was sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through something with a small smile playing on his lips. He was so handsome, all angles and easy charm now, a far cry from the gap-toothed boy who used to build Lego castles at my feet.
“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual, arranging myself on the armchair across from him, making sure my legs were crossed just so, the nightie riding up a little higher on my thigh.
He glanced up, his smile faltering slightly. His eyes widened a fraction, and for a moment, they lingered on my chest before flicking back up to my face. A blush crept up his neck, a familiar sign of embarrassment or discomfort. He quickly looked back down at his phone, scrolling with renewed intensity, the small smile gone.
“Hey, Mom,” he mumbled, his voice a little lower than usual.
My heart sank a little. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for. I’d imagined a flicker of something more… interested? Appreciative? But discomfort? That was definitely not the goal. Still, he had noticed. He hadn’t been completely oblivious.
“What are you watching?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, forcing a smile that probably felt as fake as it looked.
“Just… memes,” he said, still avoiding eye contact, his fingers flying across the screen.
Memes. Right. Groundbreaking conversation starter. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken awkwardness. I could feel my cheeks burning now too. Maybe this had been a terrible idea. Maybe I’d completely misread the situation. Maybe I was just… pathetic.
“So,” I tried again, a little too brightly, “movie night then? Anything good on?”
He shrugged, still looking at his phone. “Sure, whatever you want, Mom.”
“You pick,” I said, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. This wasn’t going as planned at all. He was closed off, distant. The nightie, instead of drawing him closer, seemed to be pushing him further away.
He finally put his phone down but still didn’t quite meet my gaze. He reached for the remote, his movements jerky and a little too fast. “Um… how about that new action movie? The one with… you know… explosions?”
“Sure honey, if only I got some action.” I chuckled and he looked at me, and really looked at me. His gaze was on my likes and worked their way up my body. I slightly parted my legs as his eyes reached my waist, and by the looks of his eyes, he got a glimps of my shaven kitty.
His gaze, starting at my exposed chest, slowly mapped the curves of my body, rising with an almost palpable heat. It was a different kind of look than I was used to from him. Less filial, more… hungry. A flicker of something undeniably primal ignited in his eyes, a spark that mirrored the sudden heat blooming in my own core.
My legs parted a fraction more, a silent invitation I couldn’t quite control. His pupils dilated as his gaze lingered on the bare expanse between my thighs, the smooth, shaven skin I’d meticulously prepped earlier suddenly feeling like a beacon in the dim light of the living room. I held my breath, every nerve ending tingling, a strange mix of fear and exhilarating anticipation coiling in my stomach.
He swallowed hard, the Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, breaking the intense eye contact for a fleeting second to glance around the room, as if checking if anyone else was watching this forbidden dance. Then his eyes snapped back to mine, and the intensity had doubled. It was no longer just a glance; it was a stare, raw and charged with an emotion I couldn’t immediately categorize. Was it desire? Shock? A dangerous cocktail of both?
“Mom…” he began, his voice rough, almost husky, the word itself a question, an accusation, a plea. It hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken meaning, with the years of our shared life, the shifting sands of our relationship, and this new, treacherous terrain we suddenly found ourselves on.
My heart was pounding against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden silence. I should stop this. I knew I should. This was wrong, twisted, playing with fire in the most catastrophic way imaginable. But the words wouldn’t come. The air in my lungs felt thick, heavy, and the look in Ethan’s eyes held me captive, a magnetic force I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, resist.
My lips parted slightly, a breath hitched in my throat. “Yes, honey?” I whispered, the word itself sounding foreign, laced with a tremor of something undeniably sexual. The nickname, usually a term of endearment, now dripped with a different kind of intimacy, a dangerous undercurrent that hummed between us.
His gaze dropped again, tracing the neckline of my nightie, lingering on the swell of my breasts, the shadowed cleavage. I could feel the heat radiating off him, even from across the room. My nipples tightened, pushing against the thin fabric, an involuntary response to his blatant appraisal.
He shifted on the couch, a restless movement that drew my attention to his own body. I could see the subtle tent forming in his jeans, a shockingly clear indication of his arousal. A jolt of pure, unadulterated electricity shot through me. He was reacting. He was reacting to me.
A reckless thrill surged through me, overriding the last vestiges of caution. This was madness. Complete and utter madness. And yet… it felt intoxicating. The years of loneliness, the gnawing need for connection, the simmering resentment of being replaced in his affections – they all coalesced into this one dangerous, exhilarating moment.
“Mom,” he repeated, his voice lower this time, almost a growl. “What… what are you wearing?” The question was laced with a mixture of confusion and something else… something that sounded dangerously close to fascination. He seemed to look turned on as hid fidgeted with his crotch.
I lifted a hand, tracing the lace trim of the nightie, drawing his gaze with me. “Just… comfortable, very comfortable,” I purred, letting a hint of deliberate provocation creep into my tone. I slowly opened my legs more, pretending to do it unknowingly as he got a better view between my legs. “Is it… distracting you?”
His eyes darted back up to mine, a wildness flickering within their depths. Distracting? It was a goddamn inferno in his mind. He could practically feel the heat radiating off me, a physical manifestation of the forbidden thoughts suddenly raging within him. He swallowed again, the need to speak, to break this impossible tension, battling with the equally powerful urge to simply… give in. To surrender to the raw, illicit pull that was emanating from his own mother.
“Mom,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, laced with confusion and a tremor that mirrored the trembling in my own legs. “You… you know I have a girlfriend, right?” It was a weak protest, a desperate attempt to grasp at the remnants of normalcy, to remind us both of the boundaries we were hurtling towards obliterating.
I tilted my head slightly, letting a slow, deliberate smile curve my lips. “Of course, honey. Why would that have anything to do with how comfortable my nightie is?” My voice was soft, almost breathy, each word a deliberate caress. I could see the internal war raging in his eyes, the conflict between ingrained propriety and the undeniable, primal pull of attraction. It was intoxicating to watch, this dance on the edge of something terrifying and exhilarating.
He shifted again, his leg bouncing nervously, the tent in his jeans now more pronounced, impossible to ignore. He was trapped, caught between his ingrained respect and the undeniable arousal pulsing within him. And I, in my reckless desperation, was pushing him further into the fire.
“It’s just…” he stammered, unable to articulate the chaos in his mind. “It’s… a bit much, isn’t it? For just watching a movie?” His gaze flickered down again, drawn irresistibly to the expanse of my thighs, to the hint of shadow between them.
“Is it?” I purred, leaning forward slightly, letting the neckline dip a little lower, offering him a more generous view of my cleavage. My voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Or is it… just enough?” I watched his Adam’s apple bob again, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps.
“Oh god, I swear if you wasn’t my mom I’d…” he stopped himself.
“What would you do, honey? If I wasn’t your mom?” I could feel his eyes on me like a physical caress, drinking in every inch of newly revealed skin.
“Shit… I would… ermm, bang you hard,” he said as he gazed at the area between my legs.
“Ahhh…” I gasped involuntarily as his words hit me like a physical blow, desire and trepidation warring within me. I teased more opening and closing my legs repeatidly, I caught him groping his crotch. “What about your girlfriend you mentioned.”
He looked up guiltily, realizing he was caught in the act. “I… she… we can’t right now,” he mumbled, unable to meet my eyes.
I tilted my head, a knowing smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “Is that so? And here I thought she was your everything.”
His gaze snapped back to mine, a flash of defensiveness in his eyes. “She is! I mean… I do care about her. God mom… your killing me. Stop teasing or ill…”
I had to stifle a laugh at his flustered response. He was so adorable when he got all riled up like this. Part of me almost felt bad for toying with him so much. But another, darker part of me was absolutely relishing the power I held over him in this moment.
“I’m not teasing, honey,” I purred, slowly uncrossing and recrossing my legs, giving him fleeting glimpses of the smooth, shaven skin between my thighs. “I’m just… observing. And maybe experimenting a little.”
“Experimenting?” His voice cracked slightly on the word. “What do you mean?”
I smiled, a slow, wicked curve of my lips. “I think you know exactly what I mean. We both do. This… this thing between us. It’s been building for a while now, hasn’t it?”
His eyes widened, darting nervously around the room as if searching for an escape route. “No, Mom, you’re crazy. That’s not… we would never…”
I held up a hand, cutting him off. “Never what, Ethan? Never admit what we both know? Never give in to what we both want?”
I could see the war raging in his eyes, the conflict between propriety and desire. It was written all over his face, in the flush of his cheeks and the nervous twitch of his muscles. He was torn, caught between his ingrained respect for me as his mother and the undeniable pull of attraction.
“Ethan,” I breathed, my voice low and seductive. “We both know it’s been coming to this. The way you look at me sometimes when you think I’m not noticing. The lingering touches, the charged moments. This… this is inevitable.”
He was shaking his head now, his eyes wild with a mix of fear and longing. “No… no, Mom, we can’t. It’s not right. I have Lily…”
“Lily,” I scoffed, the name bitter on my tongue. “Poor, sweet Lily. She has no idea, does she? No idea what’s really going on in that head of yours.”
His face reddened at my words and he sputtered indignantly. “I… that’s not fair, Mom. You don’t know anything about my relationship with Lily.”
“Don’t I?” I challenged, leaning forward and letting my nightie gape open slightly. His eyes immediately dropped to my cleavage, lingering there for a long moment before he hastily looked away again. “Come on, honey. We both know the truth. Lily may have your heart, but I’ve got your body all hot and bothered.”
A choked sound escaped his throat at that and his hand twitched towards his crotch before he caught himself. “Mom, please. This isn’t… we shouldn’t…”
I stood up then, slowly, letting my hips sway as I walked towards him. His eyes followed my every move, helpless and hungry despite his weak protests. “We shouldn’t what, Ethan? Shouldn’t explore this thing between us? Shouldn’t give in to what we both want?”
I stopped right in front of him, close enough that he could smell my perfume, feel the heat radiating off my body. I looked down at him, my eyes heavy-lidded and my lips parted slightly. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this, honey. I can see how much you do.”
I reached out then, my hand hovering just over his crotch. He sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body tensing. “Mom, I… I can’t…”
“Can’t what?” I murmured, letting my fingers graze ever so lightly over the bulge in his jeans. “Can’t resist me? Can’t stop thinking about me when you’re with Lily?”
He groaned at my touch, his hips twitching forward involuntarily. “Fuck, Mom… we can’t…”
I pressed a little harder, cupping him fully now. He was so hard, so ready. “We can’t what, Ethan? We can’t have each other? We can’t fuck like we both want to?”
At that, he cursed under his breath, his head falling back against the couch. “Shit, Mom… you’re driving me crazy.”
“Am I?” I purred, giving him a slow, deliberate stroke through his jeans. “Or am I just giving you what you’ve wanted all along?”
He didn’t have an answer for that, too lost in the sensations I was evoking in him. I could see it in his eyes, that last thread of resistance snapping. He wanted this, wanted me, consequences be damned.
“What… what do you want from me, Mom?” he asked hoarsely, his voice rough with need.
I smiled then, a slow, seductive curve of my lips. “What do I want? I think that’s pretty obvious, don’t you honey?”
And with that, I sank to my knees in front of him, my face level with his straining erection. I looked up at him through my lashes, my hand working at his zipper.
“I want you, Ethan. I want to taste you, to feel you in my mouth. I want to make you come so hard you forget all about sweet little Lily.”
His eyes were wide, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. “Mom… you can’t… we can’t…”
But even as he protested, his hands were tangling in my hair, urging me closer to his aching arousal. I could feel him throbbing against my palm, could see the damp spot forming on his jeans.
“Shhh,” I soothed, my fingers finally freeing his cock from its confines. It sprang out, hard and heavy and perfect. “Just let it happen, baby. Let Mommy take care of you.”
And with that, I leaned in and ran my tongue along his length, savoring the taste of him. He groaned, his hips bucking up involuntarily, and I wrapped my lips around him, taking him deep into my mouth.
It was wrong, so wrong. But it was also so, so right. The taboo thrill of it all, the illicit rush of doing something so forbidden… it only heightened my arousal, made me wetter and more desperate for him than ever before.
I began to bob my head, taking him in and out of my mouth, my hand working what I couldn’t fit. His fingers tightened in my hair, guiding me, urging me on. Obscene, wet sounds filled the room as I worked him over, the slurping and sucking mingling with his harsh pants and groans.
“Fuck, Mom,” he gasped, his head thrown back in ecstasy. “Oh fuck, your mouth… it’s so good.”
I moaned around him, the vibrations causing him to shudder in pleasure. His hips began to thrust upwards, meeting my eager movements. I took him deeper, my throat stretching to accommodate his size. I could feel his cock twitching in my mouth, the salty taste of pre-cum coating my tongue.
“God, Mom… I’m… I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice tight with restraint. I hummed in approval, my hand still pumping the base of his shaft.
I hummed around him, the vibrations adding to his pleasure. He was close, I could tell. His cock was throbbing, his balls drawing up tight. I could feel his impending orgasm building, the tell-tale tensing of his muscles, the increase in his harsh breathing.
And then he was coming, spilling himself down my throat with a guttural moan. I swallowed it all, greedy and eager, not wanting to waste a single drop of my son’s cum. I worked him through it, my mouth and hand milking him until he was spent and shuddering.
Finally, I pulled off, releasing him with a lewd pop. He sagged back against the couch, chest heaving, a dazed look in his eyes. I smiled up at him, my lips and chin slick with his release.
“There now, baby,” I purred, giving his softening cock a final, affectionate pat. “Don’t you feel better? Like a weight’s been lifted?”
He just stared at me, unblinking, as if trying to process what had just happened. What we had just done. I could see the shock and confusion warring with the satisfaction in his eyes.
“Ethan,” I said softly, putting a hand on his thigh. “We can… we can keep this between us. Just something special, for us. No one ever has to know.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze still fixed on my face. “Mom… I… I don’t know what to say. This is… it’s so wrong.”
I leaned in close, my breasts brushing against his leg. “Shhh,” I soothed, my fingers trailing up his thigh. “It doesn’t have to be wrong, baby. It can be… perfect. You and me, our own little secret.”
I kissed him then, pressing my lips to his in a slow, sensual caress. He stiffened at first, but then his mouth softened under mine, opening to the press of my tongue. I could taste myself on him, mingling with the unique flavor of my son. It was intoxicating, that forbidden mix.
When I finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide with lust.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispered, but there was no conviction in it. “This isn’t… it’s not right.”
“Doesn’t it feel right though?” I countered, my hand sliding higher on his thigh, teasing at the sensitive skin. “Doesn’t it feel like exactly what we both need?”
He shuddered at my touch, his cock already starting to stir again. “Mom… fuck. We can’t keep doing this.”
“Can’t we?” I challenged, wrapping my fingers around him, feeling him grow and harden in my grip. “Or can’t we stop?”
He groaned, his hips lifting into my touch. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he gasped.
I just smiled, slow and wicked. “But what a way to go, huh baby?”
And then I was kissing him again, deep and filthy, my hand stroking him to full hardness. He responded eagerly, his tongue delving into my mouth, his hands finding my breasts and squeezing.
We made out like that for long moments, lost in a haze of forbidden lust and arousal. It was wrong, so wrong… but it was also the most right I’d felt in ages. Like coming home to a place I never knew I needed.
When we finally broke apart, we were both panting. His eyes were wild, his lips kiss-swollen.
“Fuck, Mom,” he breathed. “What are we doing? What am I doing?”
I just smiled, slow and seductive. “I think that’s pretty obvious, don’t you honey? We’re… exploring. Exploring this thing between us.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the impressive erection straining against his jeans once more. “This thing… it’s not… it can’t last. We can’t…”
But even as he said it, he was pulling me back into his lap, his hands sliding up my sides to cup my breasts. I straddled him eagerly, grinding down against his hardness.
“Shhh,” I soothed, my voice a low purr. “Don’t think about that now. Just… just feel. Feel how good we are together.”
And then I was capturing his lips again, kissing him deep and dirty. He responded hungrily, his tongue delving into my mouth, his hands groping at my ass.
We rutted against each other, lost in a haze of taboo lust. It was wrong, so very wrong… but it was also the most right I’d felt in years. Like two pieces of a twisted puzzle finally slotting together.
“Mom,” he gasped against my mouth. “Fuck… I need you. I need to be inside you.”
I just moaned, grinding down harder against him. “Then take me, baby. Take what’s yours.”
And with that, he was lifting me, impaling me on his thick cock in one smooth stroke. We both cried out at the sensation, the forbidden thrill of it all making it that much more intense.
He started thrusting up into me then, hard and deep. I rode him eagerly, my hips undulating, taking him as deep as I could. It was filthy and wrong and so, so good. The taboo thrill of it all, the illicit rush… it only heightened everything, making each sensation that much more intense.
“Fuck, Mom,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “You feel… fuck, you feel so good.”
I just moaned, my head falling back in ecstasy. “You too, baby. So big, so deep. Stretching me… filling me up so good.”
We moved together like that, lost in a haze of lust and pleasure. The wet, obscene sounds of our coupling filled the room, mingling with our harsh pants and moans.
I could feel my orgasm building, the familiar coil of tension low in my belly. But I held back, not wanting this to end, not wanting to shatter this perfect, illicit moment.
“Come for me, baby,” I urged, my nails raking down his chest. “Come deep inside Mommy. Fill me up.”
He just groaned, his hips snapping up into me harder, faster. I could feel him throbbing within me, could tell he was close. His fingers found my clit, rubbing tight circles that had me seeing stars.
“Fuck… Mom… I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”
“Then do it,” I gasped, my walls clenching around him. “Come for me, Ethan. Give Mommy your cum.”
And with that, he was coming, spilling deep inside me with a guttural moan. I followed him over the edge a second later, my body shuddering, my walls milking him for every last drop.
We stayed like that for long moments, locked together, panting and shivering through the aftershocks. Finally, he softened inside me and I carefully dismounted, his seed trickling down my thighs.
I smiled at him, lazy and sated. “See, baby? I told you it would be perfect.”
He just stared at me, unblinking, as if trying to process what had just happened. What we had just done. I could see the shock and confusion warring with the satisfaction in his eyes.
“Mom,” he said finally, his voice rough. “What… what have we done?”
I just laughed, low and wicked. “What does it look like, honey? We’ve crossed a line. A big, taboo line.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to where his cum was still trickling from my well-used cunt. “We… we can’t do this again. It’s not… it’s not right.”
But even as he said it, he was reaching for me, pulling me back into his lap. I straddled him eagerly, feeling him already starting to stir within me once more.
“Shhh,” I soothed, my voice a low purr. “Don’t think about right or wrong, baby. Just… just feel. Feel how good we are together.”
And then I was kissing him again, deep and filthy. He responded hungrily, his tongue delving into my mouth, his hands groping at my ass.
We made love like that for hours, lost in a haze of lust and pleasure. It was wrong, so wrong… but it was also the most right I’d felt in ages. Like two pieces of a twisted puzzle finally slotting together.
In the end, we were both spent, sated, lying tangled together on the couch. His cum was leaking from my used cunt, our mixed fluids painting my inner thighs.
“Ethan,” I murmured, tracing patterns on his sweat-slicked chest. “We… we can’t tell anyone about this. It has to be our secret.”
He just hummed in agreement, his eyes already drifting closed. “Yeah… yeah Mom. Our secret.”
I smiled then, a slow, wicked curve of my lips. This was just the beginning. The start of something new, something exciting. Something illicit and taboo and oh so very right.
And as I drifted off to sleep in my son’s arms, I couldn’t help but wonder what other forbidden delights the future might hold.