Warning: This story contains explicit mature themes, graphic sexual content, and incestuous relationships between adult characters (18+), which may offend or disturb some readers. Proceed with caution Important it is fiction.
My mom, Shellie, has been my rock, my everything since I was born. Growing up, it was always just the two of us. She poured every ounce of her being into raising me, juggling work and single motherhood without so much as a complaint. I never saw her date seriously, let alone have a long-term relationship. Her world revolved around me, and I knew she’d sacrificed a lot to give me the best life possible.
On my 21st birthday, a milestone I’d eagerly anticipated, my phone buzzed with a text from her: “Mike, come straight home from work. I have a surprise for your birthday!”
Knowing I had no other plans, I replied, “Will do, Mom!”
When I walked through the door that evening, the familiar scent of vanilla frosting filled the air. There it was, the birthday cake, a tradition she’d upheld religiously for the past two decades. But this year, there was something more, a glint of excitement in her eyes as she announced her “big surprise.”
“I got you tickets for that band you love! They’re playing at the casino, and I thought we could spend the weekend there to celebrate. What do you think?”
My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? Fuck yes! Thank you, this is going to be amazing!” I launched myself into a hug, a spontaneous expression of gratitude. The embrace lingered for a moment longer than usual, a fleeting awkwardness that I couldn’t quite explain. When we finally pulled apart, Mom’s face was flushed, and she seemed flustered. “Okay,” she stammered, breaking the silence, “Let’s have cake.”
Friday arrived, and we embarked on our adventure to the casino. As we drove, Mom turned to me, a playful glint in her eyes. “Now that you’re finally of legal drinking age, I want you to know that just because you’re with your mother doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. This weekend is all about you.”
Guilt washed over me. “What about you, Mom? I hope you’re going to have fun too. I’m sorry you had to sacrifice so much for me your whole life.”
She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Sweetheart, trust me, I’m going to have a good time, and don’t ever feel sorry for me. I’ve had a great life.”
Mom is 46 years old, and until recently, I never really thought of her as anything other than my mom. But during that hug on my birthday, something shifted. For the first time, I saw her as a woman, and a wave of attraction washed over me. The realization was jarring, mortifying even. I was embarrassed, and I was sure she noticed it during are hug.
We arrived at the casino, and Mom checked us in. We arrived to the room, and there was only one bed and I could hear Mom on the phone with the front desk. “This is Shellie in room 301, and I think you made a mistake. My reservation was for two beds…” She stopped, disappointment etched on her face. “Mike, bad news. They screwed up the reservation, and there are no other rooms available. Do you want to try and see if another hotel has a room with two beds?”
I hesitated. “It really doesn’t matter to me, and it’s a huge bed. If you think it’s a problem, then we can try and go somewhere else, but to be honest, it was a long ride, and we’re already here.”
Her face relaxed. “You’re right, and this isn’t going to ruin our weekend. Get ready, and let’s go have some fun.”
Mom and I hit the casino floor, trying our luck at the slots. After a while, Mom turned to me, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Should we head to the bar so you can have your first legal drink? You noticed I said legal, not your first drink, right? Did you think I didn’t know when you used to go out drinking with your friends when you were a teenager?” She winked, then grabbed my arm. “Let’s go!”
I ordered a beer, and Mom opted for some fancy cocktail I’d never heard of. It felt strange, drinking with her, and that awkwardness from my birthday crept back in. But we kept ordering drinks, and before I knew it, we were both getting thoroughly smashed. The bartender announced the last call, and Mom giggled.
“I think we should get out of here and head back to the room, but I’m not sure I can walk, so you may need to help me.”
“Okay,” I slurred, “but I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I’m just as drunk as you are.”
We finally made it to our room, and Mom announced, “I’m going to change and use the bathroom first.” While she was in there, she called out, “Sweetie, do you mind if I wear your t-shirt from today to bed?”
“No, I don’t care. Which side of the bed do you want?” I asked, secretly hoping she’d choose the left. I preferred sleeping on my right and dreaded the thought of facing her all night; falling asleep on my left side was always a struggle.
“Right side, sweetie. I hate the left. I think I snore too, so you should try and fall asleep before me.”
Fuck, I thought. This is going to suck. I’m never going to fall asleep. Mom emerged from the bathroom wearing my t-shirt, with only her panties underneath. I had already changed into shorts and a t-shirt. “Please try not to start snoring right away,” I said. “I still have to use the bathroom and would like to get to sleep before you do.”
“No promises,” she replied. “But if I were you, I’d hurry up. Booze and exhaustion are a bad mix for trying to stay awake.”
As I was getting into bed, Mom said, “Give me a kiss and hug before you go to sleep.”
I turned over to hug and kiss her. Because we were both a little drunk, we almost kissed on the lips, and we both burst out laughing. Then, I gave her a hug. It was another long, awkward squeeze, followed by silence, leaving her face flushed red once more.
“Okay, sweetie, good night. Get some rest; we have a long day tomorrow.”
“Good night, Mom.”
A few minutes passed, and she was already snoring. I, however, couldn’t fall asleep. She rolled over and draped her leg and arm across me, her face almost on my chest. Realizing she was still asleep and unaware she was cuddling me, I let her stay there. But then I started to get hard and decided to move her. Gently, I removed her arm and then her leg, nudging her over a little. She didn’t even flinch, just kept sleeping, resuming her snoring as she lay on her back.
I sat up, thinking, This sucks. I’m drunk, horny, and can’t sleep. That’s when I noticed the t-shirt Mom was wearing had ridden up to her chest, leaving her exposed from the chest down. I attempted to pull the t-shirt down, but instead, I accidentally pulled it up further, revealing her breasts. Mom didn’t move except for a deep breath.
My mind was racing. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or just the throbbing hardness in my pants, but she looked incredibly sexy. I laid down next to her, put my leg over hers, and placed my hand on her stomach, starting to rub her belly. I was nervous; my cock felt like it was about to tear through my skin. As I kept rubbing, I grew bolder and moved up to her breasts. She flinched, so I stopped. I waited a few seconds and resumed rubbing, then moved my hand down between her legs, caressing her pussy over her panties. I kept rubbing, feeling her clit through the fabric. I could hear her breathing heavily, and I couldn’t tell if she was awake or just snoring.
I began to pull Mom’s panties down, barely believing I was doing this, when I heard, “Hey, what are you doing?”
I panicked for a moment and stammered, “Don’t worry, Mom, I’m just rubbing you so you can feel good.”
“That is something you shouldn’t be doing honey.”
With gentle hands, I removed her panties and parted her legs, revealing her entirely. I began planting soft kisses along the insides of her thighs, gradually ascending towards the apex of her womanhood. I could feel her trembling beneath my touch, her breath hitching as I reached her core.
“Wait, sweetie…” she murmured, her voice hesitant. “I know what you’re doing, and I don’t think we can…”
“Why not?” I asked, genuinely puzzled. “We’re not having sex, that would be wrong. I’m just exploring, touching and kissing. I want you to feel good.”
Her brow furrowed, and she hesitated for a moment. “Are you sure you really want to do this?”
“Yes, I want to,” I assured her, my voice steady. I began to slide my finger up and down the length of her slit, feeling her slick wetness on my fingertips.
“Can I keep going?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You can keep going,” she whispered back. “It feels really good, but we can’t have sex. I’m your mother. Do you understand? That’s the rule.”
“Ok,” I said, my voice barely audible.
I slipped my finger inside her, feeling her tense up as she gasped. I continued to lick and suck on her clit as my finger moved in and out of her, feeling her body tremble beneath me.
“That feels so good, Mike…Get up here and kiss me…Please come kiss me.”
I moved up to kiss her, feeling her pull me down on top of her. I could feel the heat from her pussy on my cock, and I couldn’t resist the temptation. I started to push myself inside her, feeling her body tense up as I entered her.
“Mike, we aren’t supposed to have sex, and you’re inside me. I’m your mother, and we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Does it feel good?” I asked, my voice low.
“Yes, but we shouldn’t be doing it.”
I continued to push myself deeper inside her, feeling her body yield to mine. I couldn’t believe what was happening, but I couldn’t stop myself. I started to move my hips, feeling her wetness on my cock.
“Mike, we can’t do this. It’s wrong.”
“Where’s my cock, mom?” I asked, my voice low.
“It’s inside me,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Do you want me to take it out or do you want me to keep going?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She hesitated for a moment, and then she whispered, “Can’t believe I am saying this… Keep going.”
I smirked, “Hold on Mom, this is going to be good and long I last longer when drunk.”
I thrust into her slowly at first, savouring the forbidden sensation, the tight warmth enveloping me. Her hands gripped my shoulders, her fingernails digging slightly into my skin, a mixture of pleasure and pain in her touch. She didn’t speak for a moment, her breath catching in ragged gasps. I continued moving inside her, a steady rhythm building, the taboo excitement fueling my actions.
“Mike…” she finally whispered, her voice strained, “This is…oh God…”
Her breath hitched, and her body tensed, then relaxed into the rhythm. Each thrust was met with a soft moan, sometimes a gasp that she quickly stifled, as if afraid someone might hear, or perhaps afraid of admitting the pleasure she was so clearly experiencing. Her hands moved from my shoulders to my hair, pulling me closer, then back to my shoulders, pushing in a silent rhythm of her own. It was a dance of forbidden pleasure and unspoken guilt, played out in the hushed intimacy of the room.
The air thickened with unspoken questions and the raw intensity of the moment. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips where they rested on her cheek, her skin flushed and damp. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted slightly, her expression a mixture of ecstasy and torment.
With each stroke, the initial urgency began to soften into a slower, deeper rhythm. I watched her face, trying to decipher the emotions playing across it. Was she truly enjoying this, or was this some kind of perverse self-destruction? Did she hate me for doing this, even as her body responded with such fervent pleasure?
I slowed my movements further, drawing out each moment, wanting to prolong this strange, intoxicating connection, even as a knot of dread tightened in my stomach. This was crossing a line, a line so deeply ingrained in societal and familial order that the very transgression felt both thrilling and terrifying.
Her eyes fluttered open, meeting mine. For a fleeting moment, there was pure vulnerability in their depths, a raw, exposed need that mirrored my own. Then, a flicker of something else – regret? Shame? – clouded her gaze.
“Mike…” she whispered again, her voice barely audible, laced with a tremor that wasn’t just from pleasure. “What… what are we doing?”
The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. It wasn’t a question directed at me, but a desperate plea to herself, to some higher moral authority, a desperate attempt to break free from the intoxicating spell we had cast upon each other.
I paused, still deep inside her, the warmth and tightness of her body a powerful, anchoring sensation. “I don’t know, Mom,” I admitted, my voice rough with emotion and a strange mix of guilt and defiance. “But… does it matter right now?”
Her eyes searched mine as if looking for an answer, for justification, for a way out of this impossible situation. Then, with a sigh that sounded like both surrender and resignation, she closed her eyes again and whispered, “Just… just keep going.”
“Ah… Mike…” she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper, a sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. “Oh God, yes… keep going… harder…” Her words were a command, a plea, a surrender all rolled into one.
I picked up the pace, my hips slapping against hers with a rhythmic intensity. Her back arched, pressing her breasts against my chest as she met each thrust with a desperate eagerness. The room filled with the sounds of our coupling – the creak of the bed, the slap of skin on skin, her ragged breathing and my low grunts of effort.
“Fuck, Mom… you feel so good…” I growled, my voice husky with lust.
I leaned down to kiss her lips while still pumping her with dick. Her lips tasted of alcohol as I went faster in and out of her. Her breathing in my mouth grew intense.
“Mmm, yeah, Mom… take it all,” I moaned, my voice raw with desire. “You love having my cock inside you, don’t you?”Her eyes fluttered open, a look of sheer bliss on her face.
“Oh, Mike… yes… I do,” she admitted, her voice trembling with pleasure. I pounded into her with all I had, the bed creaking beneath us. Her tits bounced with each impact, and I couldn’t resist leaning down to suck a nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive bud. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as I teased her nipple with my lips and teeth. “Ah, yes! Don’t stop, Mike!”
As I thrust into her, I leaned down to capture her lips in a deep, for another passionate kiss, my tongue delving into her mouth as I continued to pump my hips. She responded eagerly, her tongue tangling with mine as she moaned into the kiss.
“Mmm, Mike… your cock feels so good inside me your such a naughty boy for breaking mommy’s rule,” she whimpered, her hands grasping at my back, urging me on. I broke the kiss to gaze into her eyes, seeing the raw desire and pleasure etched on her face.
“Do you hate me for it, I can stop,” I said as I slowed down.
“No, don’t stop,” she panted, her grip on my back tightening. “I don’t hate you, Mike. I just… I didn’t think this would happen, but it feels so good. You feel so good inside me. You have got such a beautiful dick, honey.” She closed her eyes, lost in the sensation as I resumed my steady rhythm.
“Shh, it’s okay, Mom,” I whispered, my voice husky with desire. “Just let go and enjoy it.”
“Ahhh honey… dont worry I will, it’s been ages since I have had a cock in my pussy. Shit that sounds weird me talking about my pussy with you.”
“Mom, it’s not weird, it’s just sex. We’re having sex, and it’s hot,” I said, my voice low and husky. I leaned down to kiss her again, my tongue delving into her mouth as I continued to thrust into her. She moaned into the kiss, her hands moving to my hair, tangling in the strands as she pulled me closer.
When we broke for air, she whispered, “You’re right, it’s just sex. And it feels amazing, Mike. Your cock is so big and hard inside me, stretching me in all the right ways.”I groaned at her words, feeling my dick throb inside her. “You like that, Mom? You like how big and hard I am?”
“Oh, fuck yes,” she panted, her eyes flashing open to meet mine.
“Yes, I love it, baby. Your cock is perfect, just the right size for my pussy,” she moaned, her hips bucking to meet my thrusts. “Fuck me harder, Mike. I want to feel you deep inside me, filling me up.”
“God, Mom, you’re so hot when you talk like that,” I groaned, my hips snapping forward to bury myself to the hilt in her wet heat. “I love hearing you say dirty things, knowing it’s my cock making you feel this good. Where is my cock and what is it doing?”
“Right here, deep in your mom’s pussy,” she said panting.
“Oh, fuck yes, Mike,” she moaned, her back arching off the bed as I pounded into her. “Yes, yes, fuck me harder! I want to feel every inch of that big cock deep inside me.”
I obliged, picking up the pace, my hips slapping against hers with a rhythmic intensity. The room filled with the sounds of our coupling – the creak of the bed, the slap of skin on skin, her ragged breathing and my low grunts of effort.
“Ah, yes, just like that,” she whimpered, her hands grasping at my back, urging me on. “Don’t stop, Mike. I’m so close… I’m going to cum on your cock.”
I slammed into her harder, my thrusts becoming more erratic as my own orgasm approached. “Cum for me, Mom,” I growled, my voice raw with lust. “I want to feel you squirt all over my cock as I fill you up.” She cried out, her body tensing beneath me as she teetered on the brink.
“Mike, I’m going to… I’m going to cum!” She exploded and soaked the bedding as I grabbed her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh as I drove myself into her one final time, burying myself to the hilt as I exploded inside her.
“Fuck, Mom! Take it all!” I roared, my cock pulsing as I pumped her full of cum. She screamed, her body convulsing around mine as she came hard, her pussy clenching and milking my cock for every last drop. I collapsed on top of her, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath.
As our breathing slowed, I lay there, my softening cock still buried inside her, feeling the warmth of her body envelop me. The room was quiet except for the occasional creak of the bed and our heavy, ragged breathing. I could feel her heart racing beneath my chest, her skin slick with sweat. After a few moments, she stirred, her hands moving to gently stroke my back.
“Wow,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “That was… intense.” I let out a soft chuckle, my lips brushing against the top of her head.
“Yeah, it was. I never expected that to happen.” She nodded, her fingers tracing patterns on my back. “Me neither. But… it felt good, didn’t it?” I couldn’t deny the truth in her words. Despite the taboo nature of what we’d just done, the pleasure had been intense and all-consuming. “Yeah, it did. Really good.”
Mom’s hands stilled on my back, and for a moment, we just lay there in the aftermath of our illicit encounter, the only sound the heavy beating of our hearts. Then, she shifted beneath me, her body tensing as she realized I was still inside her.
“Oh, Mike,” she whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of guilt and concern, “we can’t… I can’t have you staying inside me like this.” I felt a pang of disappointment, not wanting our moment to end so soon. But I knew she was right. We needed to clean up, to process what had just happened. With a soft grunt, I pulled out of her, watching as my cum dripped from her pussy and onto the sheets. Her face flushed, and she quickly rolled away from me, scrambling to sit up and cover herself with the sheet.
“God, this is a mess,” she muttered, her voice shaking slightly.
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know what just happened, but it felt really good. Too good.”
“I know,” Mom said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. But we can’t do it again, Mike. This was a one-time thing.” I nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment. “I know, Mom. It’s not right. We’re family.”
“Exactly,” she said firmly, her eyes locked on mine. “We need to forget this ever happened and go back to normal. Can you do that?”I hesitated, unsure if I could so easily erase the memory of what we’d shared. But Mom was right – it was wrong, and we couldn’t let it happen again. With a deep breath, I nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. It was just a really intense moment, that’s all.”
Mom nodded her expression a mix of relief and guilt. “Good. Let’s just… let’s get cleaned up and try to forget this ever happened, okay? and get some sleep it is late.” I nodded again, feeling a sense of resignation wash over me.
Mom and I got out of bed, and I helped her clean up the mess we made. We were both quiet, the only sound the running water as we washed off the evidence of our forbidden encounter. Once we were clean, we got dressed in silence, the weight of what had happened hanging heavy in the air. As we lay in bed that night, the events of the evening replayed in my mind, the sensation of her body beneath mine, the taste of her lips, the sound of her moans. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d crossed a line, that I’d irreparably damaged our relationship. But even as I struggled with the guilt, I couldn’t deny the intense pleasure I’d felt, the way my body had responded to hers with a primal, almost animalistic desire. It was wrong, but it had felt so right. I glanced over at Mom, her back to me as she slept, her chest rising and falling with each breath.