“No!” I shrieked, instinctively arching my back away from him, a wave of drunken giggles bubbling up. “Stop it, honestly, haha, you… haha, you know I’m terribly ticklish!”
He had me pinned down on the sofa, his body pressing lightly against mine as his fingers danced tormentingly along my sides. I had to be careful; I was in a short silk nightie with no knickers on beneath it, and the accidental, unintentional friction of his groin against mine was starting to spark a reaction deep inside me, a confusing mix of embarrassment and a forbidden flicker of heat.
“Give up, Mum,” he chuckled, his voice playful, the tickling unrelenting. What made it worse was the giddy, warm feeling churning in my stomach from the nearly-finished bottle of whisky on the coffee table. Oh god, I could feel it now, distinct and hardening beneath his jeans – he was getting an erection. It pressed and rubbed against my pussy, purely by accident, I told myself, but the contact was becoming intensely stimulating.
I squirmed beneath him, trying to push him off gently without making it obvious how much his accidental contact was actually turning me on. I could feel my cheeks flushing scarlet, a flush I hoped he’d blame on the alcohol or the exertion of fighting him off. My body, however, was responding with alarming speed.
“Come on, Mum,” he pressed, his dark eyes glinting with playful challenge, his fingers still relentless. “You know you can’t resist me.”
“Stop it, you impossible brat!” I gasped, laughing so हार्ड my sides ached. “I’m your mother, for goodness sake! Hahaha, honey… enough!”
He kept tickling, and the grinding contact intensified. “You need to… haha… be careful, I haven’t got any kni—” I bit the word off, my eyes widening marginally, hoping he hadn’t heard.
“No knickers on?” he asked, his tickling suddenly ceasing. His tone shifted, a flicker of surprise and then something else entirely crossing his face. My heart leaped into my throat. I felt a fresh wave of heat wash over me, mortified that he’d not only heard but picked up on my slip-up. His playful grin faded completely as his gaze dropped, sweeping down between our bodies, now still pressed together. The silk nightie had ridden high on my thighs in our struggle, exposing everything. He saw. He saw everything – my shaven gash, bare and glistening slightly from the accidental friction.
His breath hitched, his eyes fixed on me, but specifically there. They were wide, a mixture of shock and intense, raw curiosity in them. “Wow,” he whispered, his voice low, almost awestruck. He looked up at my face, his eyes searching mine. “You… you shave? Why? You… you don’t have a man?”
I stammered, completely thrown by his sudden seriousness and the direction of his questions. “I… I just prefer it,” I mumbled, my voice barely audible, feeling more exposed and embarrassed than I had in years. My gaze flickered down to where his eyes had been glued. “Why do you keep looking at it?”
His cheeks went bright red now, matching mine, and he quickly averted his eyes from my body, looking up at my face again, though his gaze was hesitant, vulnerable. “Sorry… I… It’s just, I’m a virgin,” he confessed, the words tumbling out quickly, laced with embarrassment. His eyes, dark and wide, held a fragile honesty I rarely saw. “And I’ve only ever seen… you know… seen them online. I’m… I’m tempted to touch it.” He avoided my gaze again, looking down at the couch cushion beside my head.
Eighteen. And a virgin? I hadn’t known. A pang of something – tenderness? pity? – mixed with the confusing arousal. “Oh, honey,” I sighed softly, trying to sound like the mother I was supposed to be, attempting to regain some sense of propriety. “You’re still so young. There’s plenty of time for all that. With… with a girl your age.”
He paused, still hovering above me, the tickling forgotten. He looked up at me again, and this time the curiosity in his eyes was molten, burning with undisguised desire. “But… I want to know what it feels like,” he said, his voice barely a whisper but intensely earnest. His eyes moved over my face, lingering. “And you’re… you’re just so beautiful, Mum.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. The alcohol-induced giddiness was replaced by a sharp, dizzying reality. I knew, absolutely knew, I had to put a stop to this now, before the line was irrevocably crossed. “Listen, sweetheart,” I said, my voice gentle but firm, meeting his gaze directly, trying to convey the seriousness of it all while battling my own internal turmoil. “This is wrong, honey. On so many levels. I’m your mother, and I love you more than anything in the world. We… we can’t let this go any further.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes dropping from mine, looking down at the space between us again, where the evidence of our accidental contact, and his sudden confession, lay bare. “I know, Mum. I’m sorry,” he murmured, but his gaze returned to my face, and the conflict was clear in his eyes – the shame, the desire, the confusion. “I just… I can’t help it. You’re… just so sexy.”
I felt my face burning again, hotter this time, but I forced myself to stay strong. “Thank you, honey,” I managed, my voice a little shaky. “But we need to keep our relationship as mother and son. That’s what’s important. No matter… no matter how tempting it feels right now.” Deep down, the temptation was overwhelming, a silent scream in my gut. I could see it in his eyes too – the deep, yearning need that mirrored the sudden, terrifying need blooming in me.
He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes holding mine, a silent question hanging between us. Then, suddenly, he shifted, his gaze dropping to his own lap for a second. “Since I saw yours…” he started, his voice slightly rough, and before I could process the implication, let alone answer, he reached for his jeans button. “…Do you… wanna see mine?”
He didn’t wait for my reply, his eyes fixed on mine as if seeking permission or perhaps bracing himself for rejection. He undid the button, then the zip, slowly, deliberately. He pulled down his jeans and boxers in one hesitant motion, revealing the stiff, throbbing erection pressing against the fabric just moments ago.
My breath caught. I couldn’t help but stare, my eyes locked on the impressive length, thick and fully hard. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage, a wild mix of desire, shock, and terrifying excitement surging through me.
“Wow,” I whispered, the word escaping my lips before I could stop it. My eyes moved from his erection back up to his face, searching his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, filled with a vulnerability that twisted something inside me, but also a raw, desperate need. “You’re… you’re really… aroused.”
“I can’t help it, Mum,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, laced with the urgency of his desire. His eyes never left mine, searching for something, anything, in my expression. “You’re so beautiful. And… and the way you squirmed just now… felt so incredible… it was too much. I couldn’t… stop thinking about…” He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between us.
I knew, logically, absolutely knew, this was madness. Every fibre of my being screamed at me to push him off, to get up, to pretend this moment never happened. But I couldn’t. The intense attraction I felt towards him, fuelled by the accidental contact, the confessions, the alcohol, was too powerful to resist. My gaze, drawn by an irresistible force, dropped back down to his erection, back up to his pleading eyes. Without conscious thought, as if guided by an ancient instinct, I reached out my hand.
My fingers trembled slightly as I gently wrapped my hand around his shaft, feeling the incredible heat radiating from him, the hard, unyielding power of his erection pulsing in my palm. I met his gaze again, my eyes wide, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm.
He moaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a look of pure pleasure, mingled with disbelief, washing over his face. “That feels… oh God, Mum… that feels so good,” he gasped, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes opened again, locking onto mine, pleading. “Please… please don’t stop.”
Every rational thought evaporated. I was on fire, consumed by a desperate, primal need that the alcohol had unlocked, that his vulnerability and desire had ignited. I was so incredibly horny. My body ached for release, for connection, for something forbidden and thrilling. His untouched eagerness was a potent aphrodisiac. Shit, I thought, the thought barely a whisper in the back of my mind as I held his cock firmly, felt the heat, the hardness, and guided him towards my wet slit. Was I really about to do this? Was I really about to make him a man?
As I held his cock, the weight and warmth tangible, I felt a wave of inevitability wash over me. I couldn’t resist any longer. My body was humming with need, aching for him inside me. My eyes met his, searching, questioning, confirming. His gaze was pure, raw desire, mixed with anticipation and a deep, trusting vulnerability. I guided the head of his cock to my slick entrance, the soft tip pressing against my labia. A sharp, electric jolt of pleasure shot through me, making me gasp softly.
He looked down at me, his eyes wide, filled with a potent blend of desire, awe, and a hesitant question. “Are you… are you sure, Mum?” he asked, his voice barely a breath, searching my eyes for confirmation. I nodded, my gaze locked on his, unable to speak, lost in the intensity of the moment, the sensation of his cock pressing against my opening almost overwhelming. My eyes conveyed the answer my voice could not – Yes. Please. Now.
I felt the tip of his cock gently parting my delicate folds, a slow, deliberate pressure. I gasped again, the pleasure sharp and intense, curling deep within my core. His eyes never left mine as he began to push himself inside me, slowly, carefully, entering inch by agonizing inch. My hips instinctively lifted to meet him, welcoming him in. I felt the incredible stretch, the fullness, as he filled me completely. A soft groan escaped my lips, my fingers tightening their grip on the couch cushions beside me as I struggled to contain the tidal wave of intense pleasure flooding my body. His eyes held mine throughout the entire entry, a silent conversation passing between us – shock, wonder, exhilaration, a mutual acknowledgment of the boundary shattered.
He began to move, his hips finding a steady, rhythmic thrust. His eyes, still locked onto mine, were alight with a mixture of fierce passion and disbelieving joy. “Oh god, Mum,” he breathed, each word punctuated by a thrust, “this feels… unbelievable.”
“Mmmph… yes, honey,” I moaned back, wrapping my legs instinctively around his waist, pulling him deeper, guiding his rhythm. My fingers dug into his back now, pulling him closer still. Our eyes remained glued together, communicating the escalating pleasure, the shared intensity. His thrusts grew bolder, more confident, fueled by his rising passion. I could feel my orgasm building, a familiar, yet uniquely powerful, wave gathering force inside me. I watched his face, saw the intensity deepen in his eyes, the faint sheen of sweat appearing on his brow. I could feel his cock swelling within me, pressing against my sensitive spots, and I knew he was nearing his own release.
“Oh, Mum,” he gasped, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts now, his eyes wide with anticipation, but holding a hint of distress. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum. Quick. I… I don’t wanna yet.” He pulsed deep inside me, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, his gaze fixed desperately on mine. This was his first ever time inside a woman, of course he was struggling with control.
“Ahhh, honey,” I breathed, my own voice thick with building pleasure, “try to… try to slow down a little then. Just… feel it.”
I felt the tension building within him, the frantic pulse of his erection deep inside me. I reached up, my hands cupping his face, my thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones. I looked deep into his eyes, trying to communicate everything – my own desire, my support, the permission he seemed to be seeking. “It’s okay, honey,” I whispered, my voice soft but firm, meeting his pleading gaze. “Let it go. Just… let it go. You deserve this pleasure. You’re doing so well.”
His eyes, filled with gratitude and sudden surrender, softened slightly, losing their frantic edge. He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement of his head against my palms. Then, with a newfound intensity, he plunged deeper, faster. I could feel his cock swelling even more within me, reaching its absolute peak hardness. I knew he was on the brink. I arched my back wildly, meeting his powerful thrusts with equal passion, my own orgasm surging towards me, a glorious, inevitable climax.
The air was thick with the sounds of our bodies slapping together, the drunken scent of whisky mingling with the musk of sex. Our moans filled the room, raw and unrestrained. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, pulling him closer, burying my face in his shoulder as the first waves of my orgasm began to wash over me, consuming me whole.
“Oh, God, yes!” I cried out, my voice echoing off the walls, a sound torn from deep within me as my body convulsed beneath him. “Ahhh, honey… my pussy… oh god!”
He groaned loudly above me, a deep, guttural sound, his hips giving one final, uncontrollable lunge. I felt his body stiffen, his cock throbbing intensely deep within me, a hot, thick surge of his essence filling me completely as he emptied himself inside me.
We lay there together for a moment, tangled and breathless, the only sounds our ragged panting and the frantic rhythm of our hearts beating against each other. Sweat glistened on our skin. I could feel his head resting against mine, his weight heavy and comforting on my body.
“I love you, Mum,” he whispered finally, his voice thick with emotion, the words soft against my ear. He shifted slightly, lifting his head just enough to look down at my face, his eyes, still dark with arousal, searching mine, earnest and vulnerable. “Thank you… thank you for this. Wow… your pussy… it felt so incredibly good.”
I smiled up at him, a soft, sated smile, my lips slightly parted as I caught my breath. “You’re welcome, honey,” I managed, my voice low and husky, barely above a whisper. My fingers traced gentle patterns on his back, enjoying the feel of his skin, still warm from our exertions. “You felt amazing inside me.”