I’m a 46-year-old mom, sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around my waist, wearing a low-cut nightie without a bra underneath. I’m sipping wine and watching a movie, trying to unwind after a long day. My son, Daniel, is 18 years old and has just been thrown out of college due to his hormones getting him into trouble. He’s a touchy-feely person, and I’ve noticed the way he looks at me, which sometimes makes me feel weird.
As I hear the door open, I look up to see Daniel walking in. He looks tired and stressed, and I can tell he’s been through a lot. He drops his bag on the floor and walks over to the couch, sitting down beside me.
“Hey, mom,” he says, giving me a hug. “What’s up?”
I hug him back, feeling a mix of emotions. I’m happy to see him, but I’m also worried about his behavior and the trouble he’s gotten himself into.
“Not much, sweetie,” I reply. “Just watching a movie and relaxing. What about you? How was your day?”
Daniel shrugs and looks at the TV, then back at me. “It was okay, I guess. I’m just really frustrated about college. I don’t know what to do now.”
I nod sympathetically and pour him a glass of wine. “Let’s talk about it, okay? What happened? Why did they kick you out?”
Daniel takes a sip of his wine and leans back onto the couch, getting under the blanket with me. I feel a bit weird, but I try to brush it off.
“It’s just…I don’t know, Mom,” he says, sighing. “I guess I just can’t help myself. I love women, and I love sex. I’m obsessed with it.”
I’m taken aback by his honesty, and I feel a flush rise to my cheeks. “Daniel, we need to talk about this,” I say, trying to sound calm. “You can’t just think about your dick all the time. You’re better than that. I raised you to respect women and to control your impulses.”
But Daniel just shrugs and looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I know, mom. But I just can’t help it. I’m obsessed with tits and pussy. I mean, what’s not to love?”
I’m shocked and embarrassed by his words, but at the same time, I feel a tingle between my legs. It’s been years since I’ve had a man, and I have to admit that Daniel’s words are stirring up feelings I thought were long dead.
As we watch TV together, I notice Daniel glancing down at my nightie, looking at my breasts. I feel a bit self-conscious, but I try to ignore it.
But as the night wears on and the wine flows, our conversation becomes more and more risqué. We’re talking about sex and relationships, and I’m surprised by how open and honest Daniel is being.
At one point, I’m laughing and joking with him, and I accidentally say, “God, my pussy hasn’t had action in years.”
I’m mortified. I couldn’t believe what I just said. Daniel looks at me with a surprised expression, and I quickly try to cover.
“I mean, I’m just saying, it’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship,” I stammer.
But Daniel just looks at me with a sly smile, and I can tell he’s thinking about what I just said. “I am so horny right now,” he says, his voice low and husky.
As he speaks, I feel his hand on my thigh under the blanket. I’m shocked and startled, but at the same time, I feel a spark of excitement. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched by a man, and Daniel’s hand on my leg is sending shivers down my spine.
“Daniel, what are you doing?” I ask, trying to sound firm but feeling my resolve weakening.
“I’m just trying to comfort you, Mom,” he says, his hand moving higher up my thigh and getting closer to between my legs. “You seem really tense. So how many years since you had a man…inside your pussy.”
I feel a rush of excitement at his words, and I know I should stop him, but a part of me doesn’t want to. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way, and I’m not sure if I can resist the temptation of my own son.
“Daniel, stop,” I say, trying to sound firm. But my voice is barely above a whisper, and I know he can hear the uncertainty in my tone. His hand now rests slightly up my nightie and rests on my pantie-covered pussy.
I look at him, and our eyes meet. I can see the desire in his eyes, and I know that I have to make a decision. I can either push him away and try to maintain our mother-son relationship, or I can give in to my feelings and see where this goes.
As I sit there, frozen in indecision, Daniel’s hand starts to move, rubbing gently against my pussy. I feel a wave of pleasure wash over me, and I know that I’m in trouble. I’m not sure if I can stop this, or if I even want to.
“Daniel,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“Yes, Mom?” he replies, his voice low and husky as he applied more pressure rubbing my pussy. I slightly parted my legs giving him better access, why am I letting him do this?
The warmth of his hand, the friction against my lace panties, it was all a dizzying assault on my senses. My own body felt traitorous, responding with an intensity I hadn’t felt in years. My breath hitched, and a low moan escaped my lips, a sound I hadn’t even realized I was suppressing.
“Mom,” he breathed, his gaze locked on mine, “You like that, don’t you? Mmm, I need to put my hand in your knickers.”
His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, laced with a brazenness that both shocked and ignited something within me. “Daniel,” I started again, but the protest felt weak, even to my own ears.
His hand, emboldened, slipped beneath the elastic of my panties. The cool air against my skin was instantly replaced by the warmth of his fingers, tracing the soft mound, and finding the very centre point of my desire. A jolt, sharp and electric, shot through me, making me gasp. My legs parted further, almost involuntarily, a silent invitation in my body language that betrayed my wavering words.
“Mom,” he murmured again, softer this time, his voice losing its edge of challenge and taking on a seductive rasp. “You’re so wet. I so want to lay you down and eat you out.”
He dipped two fingers inside my pussy and started pumping them slowly in and out of my twat. He started to pump them faster, “told you I love pussy.”
I threw my head to the back of the couch, “Ah…. ahh, you, we shouldn’t”
As he continued to finger my pussy hole, his other hand undid his zipper under the blankets. He grabbed my hand and placed it on his shaft. I instinctively wrapped my hand around it and gave him a few slow pumps.
“That feels good mom,” he moaned as he continued to finger me and I jerked him off. “I can’t wait to put it in…”
I cut him off, “please can you just be happy we are doing this we can’t have…” he stopped me.
“Have sex, why… this is just as bad,” he protested as he finger fucked my cunt hard.
I was losing the battle with myself. “It’s wrong, Daniel,” I whispered, but the words felt hollow, even to my own ears. My hips were already subtly rocking against his fingers, urging him deeper, faster. The feeling was intoxicating, forbidden, and undeniably good. His words, his touch, they were dismantling years of restraint, years of being ‘just Mom.’
“Wrong?” he repeated, his voice thick with arousal. He stopped moving his fingers inside me for a moment, and I felt a pang of disappointment before he used his thumb to rub intensely over my clit through the lace. “Mom, you’re soaking wet for me. Does that feel wrong?”
He was right. I was soaking wet. My body was screaming a different story than my mind was trying to tell. With his other hand still gripping and stroking his hardening cock, he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Look at me, Mom.”
I slowly raised my head, my gaze locking with his. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, reflecting the dim light of the TV screen and the raw hunger he felt. In that moment, he wasn’t Daniel, my son, the boy I raised. He was just… a man. And he wanted me. And a treacherous, shameful part of me wanted him back.
“Tell me it feels wrong,” he urged, his thumb still circling, tantalizing.
I wanted to say it. I knew I should say it. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a soft moan escaped my lips, and my grip tightened on his shaft. He took that as his answer.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. He pulled his fingers out of my wet pussy for a split second, then plunged them back in, deeper this time, hitting a spot that made me cry out. “You want this, Mom. Just admit it.”
“Daniel… ahh,” I gasped, my head falling back against the couch again. “I… I don’t know…” but even as I said it, my body was betraying me, arching into his touch, begging for more.
He chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated against me as he leaned in closer. “You do know, Mom. You’re just scared to admit it.” He removed his hand from my pussy and quickly unbuttoned my nightie, pushing the fabric aside, exposing my breasts to the cool air. My nipples were hard and erect, aching for his touch.
He looked down at my breasts, his eyes darkening even further. “Beautiful,” he breathed, his voice husky. He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and a jolt of pure electricity shot through me. I moaned again, louder this time, my hands clutching at his shoulders.
He suckled and laved at my breasts, alternating between them, teasing and biting, driving me closer and closer to the edge. His fingers were back between my legs, working their magic, and his other hand moved to cup my breast, kneading and squeezing.
“Daniel… please…” I pleaded, my voice trembling, not even sure what I was pleading for. For him to stop? For him to continue? My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and desire.
He pulled back from my breasts, looking down at me, his eyes blazing with passion. “Please what, Mom?” he whispered, his voice rough. “Please fuck you? Please give you what you’ve been craving for years?”
He was right. It was true. Deep down, buried beneath layers of societal conditioning and motherly duty, there was a part of me, a starved, neglected part, that craved this. Craved him. The forbidden thrill of it, the danger of it, the sheer animalistic desire… it was overwhelming.
“Yes,” I breathed, the word escaping my lips before I could stop it. It was a confession, a surrender.
His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise, then absolute triumph. He stood up abruptly, pulling the blanket away from me. He stepped out of his jeans and briefs in one smooth motion, revealing his hard, thick cock, glistening in the dim light. It was magnificent, intimidating, and undeniably arousing.
He reached down and pulled me to my feet, my legs shaky beneath me. He pushed my nightie up around my waist, exposing my bare pussy to his gaze. He stared at me, his eyes drinking me in, and I felt a blush creep up my neck, despite the heat that was already raging within me.
“You are so beautiful, Mom,” he whispered, his voice reverent. “So fucking beautiful.” He reached out and gently spread my legs wider, his fingers tracing the wetness between my thighs. “And so fucking wet.”
He lowered me back onto the couch, this time with my legs hanging over the edge. He knelt between my legs, his hard cock hovering just inches from my entrance. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the anticipation building to a fever pitch.
“Are you sure, Mom?” he asked, his voice softer now, a hint of tenderness in his eyes. “Once we do this, there’s no going back.”
I looked at him, at my son, poised to take me, to cross a line that could never be uncrossed. And in that moment, surrounded by the wreckage of my carefully constructed life, I knew that I was already past the point of no return. The years of loneliness, the suppressed desires, the forbidden attraction… it had all led to this moment.
“Yes, Daniel,” I whispered, my voice trembling but firm. “I’m sure.”
He let out a breath, a low growl of satisfaction. He reached for my hips, lifting them slightly, guiding himself to my entrance. I gasped as the head of his cock pressed against my wet folds, the sensation both shocking and intensely pleasurable.
“Relax, Mom,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the raw desire in his eyes. “Just relax.”
He pressed forward, slowly, inch by agonizing inch, pushing himself inside me. I cried out, a sharp intake of breath. It had been so long, that I was tighter than I realized. But the slight pain was quickly overshadowed by a rush of intense pleasure, a feeling of being filled, completed, in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
He paused, letting me adjust, letting the initial discomfort subside. He looked down at me, our eyes locked, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Tight,” he breathed, his voice husky with satisfaction. “So tight.”
Then, he started to move. Slowly at first, just a gentle rocking motion, feeling me out, getting used to my tightness. But as my body started to loosen, as my moans grew louder, his movements became more insistent, more demanding. He started to hammer into me, his hips slamming against mine, his cock thrusting deep inside me, hitting my G-spot with each stroke.
“Ahh… Daniel… oh god,” I moaned, my head thrashing back and forth on the couch. The sensations were overwhelming, too intense, almost painful, but in the best possible way. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting him deeper, wanting more.
He groaned, his head thrown back, his muscles straining with each thrust. “Mom… fuck… you feel so good… so fucking good inside me.”
He kept pounding into me, harder and faster now, driving me higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. My breath was coming in ragged gasps, my body slick with sweat, my senses overwhelmed with pure, raw pleasure.
And then, it happened. A wave of intense sensation washed over me, starting deep within my core and spreading outwards, engulfing my entire body. I cried out, a long, guttural moan, as I came, my body convulsing around his cock.
Daniel roared with his own release, thrusting into me one last time, before collapsing on top of me, his body shaking with the aftermath of orgasm. He buried his face in my neck, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.
We lay there for a long moment, entangled, panting, the only sound our ragged breaths filling the silence of the room. The movie on the TV continued to play, unheard, unseen, a meaningless backdrop to the seismic shift that had just occurred between us.
Slowly, Daniel lifted his head, his eyes still glazed with passion, but a flicker of something else, something akin to… regret? Maybe even fear? crossed his face. He looked down at me, at our bodies still joined, and the reality of what we had just done began to sink in.
“Mom…” he started, his voice hesitant, uncertain. And I knew, in that moment, that everything had changed. Forever.