The sun was just beginning to dip below the treeline as I knelt beside the campfire, carefully arranging the kindling. The scent of pine and earth filled the air, mingling with the faintest hint of smoke. I could feel my son’s eyes on me—not unusual, but tonight, it felt different. Maybe it was the way the fading light caught my skin, or the way the breeze played with the loose strands of my hair.
“You sure we brought enough firewood?” he asked, his voice deeper than it used to be.
I glanced up, catching his gaze before he quickly looked away. “Should be plenty,” I said, brushing my hands off on my jeans. “But if not, we’ve got the whisky to keep us warm.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You and that whisky.”
“It’s tradition,” I teased, standing and stretching my arms over my head. My shirt lifted just enough to expose a sliver of skin, and I saw his eyes flicker downward before he busied himself with the marshmallows.
A little thrill ran through me. I wasn’t blind—I knew what I looked like. My body had softened with age, but in a way that made men stare. Full hips, a waist that still curved in, and breasts that demanded attention, even under layers of fabric. And tonight… well, tonight I’d packed my favorite nightie.
“I’m gonna change,” I announced, grabbing my small duffel. “Don’t let the fire die.”
He nodded, poking at the flames with a stick.
Inside the tent, I unzipped my bag and pulled out the silky slip of fabric. It was short, barely brushing mid-thigh, and dipped low at the neckline, just enough to hint at cleavage without being obscene. I undressed taking off my shirt and shimmied out of my jeans. I unclasped my bra and slid of my knickers. “Shit,” I forget to pack a clean pair of underwear. I should be ok so I just put the nightie on, I will just have to be careful not to bend over.
I ran my hands over my hips, smoothing the nightie down. My breasts pushed against the thin fabric, the cool air making my nipples peak beneath. I bit my lip, hesitating. Was this too much?
But no—it was just us. Just camping.
I took a deep breath and stepped out of the tent.
The firelight danced over my skin as I walked toward him, the nightie swaying with each step. I saw the exact moment he noticed. His breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the whisky bottle.
“Mom—” His voice was rough.
I pretended not to notice his reaction, settling beside him on the log. “Marshmallows ready?”
He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
I reached for one, deliberately leaning forward just enough to let the neckline dip. His gaze flickered downward, then snapped back up to my face, his cheeks darkening.
I smirked, spearing a marshmallow. “See something you like?”
He coughed, taking a swig of whisky. “Just… didn’t expect the nightie.”
I laughed, low and throaty. “What, you thought I’d sleep in jeans?”
He didn’t answer, just stared into the fire. But I could feel the tension between us, thick and sweet as the melted sugar on my fingers.
Then came the moment I’d been dreading—and maybe anticipating.
“Uh… Mom?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think we might have a problem.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He gestured toward the tent. “I only packed one sleeping bag.”
My heart skipped.
Oh.
I took a slow sip of whisky, savouring the burn. “Well, Liam,” I murmured, meeting his eyes. “Guess we’ll have to share.”
“But…” he didn’t finish.
“But…?” I prompted, tilting my head. My fingers toyed with the rim of my whisky glass, watching the amber liquid catch the firelight.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “But… it’s just… you’re…” His eyes flicked down to my nightie again, then darted away.
I let out a soft laugh, shifting closer on the log until our thighs nearly touched. “I’m what? Your mom?” I teased, nudging him with my elbow. “Relax. It’s just a sleeping bag.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yeah. Right.”
I leaned in, letting my voice drop to a whisper. “Unless you’re worried about something…”
“It’s just… it is a single sleep bag, we will be… close,” he looked embarrassed.
I sighed, “look Liam we can spoon… hey not like that.” I saw his face light up. “I mean I will face away from you on my side and you cuddle up to me.”
Later that night I got into the sleeping bag and he was about to get in with his clothes on.
“Honey you are not going to sleep in your clothes are you, just strip to your boxers.” I sighed and got on my side.
He took off his top and then his bottoms and climbed in tightly behind me as his arm rested over my hips. I had to be careful as I had no knickers on and he was pressed tightly against my bum.
Things started to get weird when I felt him have an hard on against my ass , I had to remain still, not wanting to encourage him but also not wanting to make things awkward. I tried to ignore the way his breath tickled my neck, the way his hand rested possessively on my hip.
I didn’t wanna say anything to embarrass him, but he throbbed against me. “Sweetie… you need to get… rid of that.”
I could feel Liam tense behind me, his breath hitching. “M-Mom… I can’t help it,” he whispered, his voice strained. I bit my lip, torn between motherly concern and a strange, unfamiliar thrill.
“You’re just excited,” I soothed, trying to sound calm. “It’s normal for a boy your age. You’ll be fine.”
But he wasn’t fine. I could feel him press harder against me, his erection insistent. My heart raced, my skin prickling with heat despite the cool night air.
“Maybe… maybe you should go take care of it?” I suggested hesitantly. “In private.”
He made a strangled sound, half groan, half whimper. “I… I don’t know if I can. I hate doing that, I prefer the real thing.”
I swallowed hard, my mind spinning. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just ignore his needs, could I? He was my son, my responsibility. And the way he felt against me… it was awakening something primal, something I’d kept buried for years. Fuck, I had to be careful I had no knickers on in this short nightie. Then. He started humping my bottom slowly. Not sure why but I rolled my ass into him.
His hand stroked my belly, I moved his hand and put them on my tits. “Oh shit, wow.” He said with shock, I was too I couldn’t believe I put his hand there and let him play with my boobs.
Liam’s grip tightened on my breasts, his thumb brushing against a sensitive point that made me gasp. “Your tits are so soft,” he mumbled, his voice rough with desire.
I arched back into his touch, the heat of his hand igniting a fire within me. “You like them?” I purred, my voice husky with a brand new kind of excitement. My breath hitched as he squeezed my breast, his hard-on throbbing against my ass, the sensations making my body tremble.
“Like them?” Liam chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated through my body. “Like them? I don’t just like them, Mom. I want them.” He pulled his hand away, sliding his fingers inside my nightie, traced the soft curves of my hip before moving up to cup my arse again. His touch was hungry, possessive, and the mix of fear and desire it sparked in me sent a jolt racing through my veins.
I let out a whimper, not daring to move. “Liam…” I breathed, my voice catching in my throat.
“Don’t…” he whispered back, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Don’t say anything. Just let me.”
His thumb grazed my clitoris, sending a wave of longing crashing over me. I strained against him, needing more, wanting more even though I knew it was wrong. So wrong.
“Liam, this isn’t… Fuck… just, just don’t tell anyone ok.”
His words hung heavy in the air, laced with a mixture of shame and fervent plea. “Don’t worry, Mom,” he breathed, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “It’s our secret.”
His hand moved with a newfound confidence, stroking my mound with long, deliberate strokes. I felt my breath quicken, my body shuddering with a mix of pleasure and forbidden excitement. His touch ignited a fire within me, consuming all reason and logic. I was his mother, this felt wicked and wrong… and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. He then shifted behind me to take his cock out and I felt his sticky cock head nestled against my ass cheek.
He slightly lifted one of my ass cheeks as he slid his cock under to get to my pussy. The head of his dick probed my mature slit and labia parted. I pushed my ass back and his cock penetrated my pussy as he slid inside.
He moved tentatively at first, his hips rocking against mine, exploring the space within me. My body ached with need, craving his touch, wanting to be filled completely.
“Mom…” he breathed, his voice low and husky with arousal. “You feel so good.”
That simple statement, the innocence mixed with lust in his tone, sent a shiver down my spine. I hadn’t felt this alive in years. My fingers tightened around the waistband of the sleeping bag, the fabric bunching beneath my nails as I fought to control the surge building within me.
He picked up the pace, his hips thrusting harder, faster now. Each movement sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, making me whimper in response. The boundaries blurred, the lines between mother and son fading away as the primal instinct took over.
“Liam,” I choked out, my voice raspy with need. “Liam, harder… please.”
“Ungh,” he grunted loud as he started to hammer into me with my ass slapping loudly against him.
Liam groaned again, his hips bucking into me with renewed urgency. The rhythm was intoxicating, primal. “Like that,” I gasped, trying to push him closer, deeper. God, it felt so good to have him inside me. To feel his need, his desire.
My head spun, Liam’s thrusts relentless against me. Each one a hammer blow, driving me closer to the edge, a precipice of pleasure that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. The familiar scent of woodsmoke and his warm skin mingled with the musk of his arousal, a potent cocktail that stole my breath and sent shivers cascading down my spine.
“Liam,” I gasped, grasping at the edge of the sleeping bag, needing something to anchor me, to keep me from falling into the abyss of his touch. “Faster… harder…” My voice cracked, betraying the wildness building within me.
He seemed to feed off my need, his pace quickening, his grunting changing into a guttural growl with each thrust. I could feel his hands, rough and warm, gripping my hips, hauling me closer, urging me to meet him, to drown in this illicit ocean of pleasure.
My pussy throbbed, a needy drum against his relentless assault. Liam’s name became a prayer on my lips, a desperate plea for more, for everything. My vision tunneled, the world shrinking to the feel of him inside me, the firelight painting his skin in flickering red and orange hues.
His movements became a blur, a constant wave of friction that threatened to overwhelm me. I gasped, the air catching in my throat, as a tremor ran through me, the build-up erupting into a powerful release.
“God… Liam…” I cried, my back arching involuntarily as the waves of pleasure crashed over me. My fingers dug deeper into the sleeping bag, struggling to keep hold of some semblance of sanity as I was swept away by the tidal wave of feeling.
He didn’t slow down, his pace mirroring my own desperation, “I am going to… cum mom.”
“Oh God, Liam, you’re gonna… you’re gonna fill me,” I moaned, the world narrowing down to the heat that pulsed between us, to the feeling of him squeezing harder, his throbbing cock pulsing against me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, ready to surrender to the glorious maelstrom consuming me.
Liam groaned, a deep, guttural sound that echoed my own need. “Almost there, Mom… almost…”
He kept driving forward, his pace relentless, his words a rhythmic countdown to the precipice. I arched my back, my legs tightening around his waist, leaning into the feeling, wanting more, needing more.
His voice hardened as he strained, “Damn, Mom… so tight,” He slammed in a final deep thrust, his body shuddering against mine. He squeezed my ass then he really went to town on my pounding me with dick. “AHH LIAM FUUUCK AHHHH.”
Liam groaned, his own release erupting in a hot rush that sent tremors through my core. I felt his body harden against mine, then a wave of aching pleasure as he finally slumped against my back, spent.
“Liam…” I gasped, my breath catching in the thin air of the tent. The fire of passion burned low, leaving behind a residue of warmth and a dizzying sense of disorientation.
I turned, carefully maneuvering my body to face him, and saw his chest heaving, his eyes closed. He looked so still, so peaceful. But I didn’t feel peaceful. I felt tangled, confused, a jumble of guilt and unexpected arousal.
“Liam,” I repeated, my voice softer this time. But he didn’t stir. He was already asleep.
I glanced down at his open sleeping bag, his naked body lying exposed, vulnerable. A wave of shame crashed over me. What had we just done? But another wave, more potent and strange, followed close behind: a wave of… longing.
Liam’s hand snaked out, finding my arm. He squeezed, his grip light, but insistent. His touch sent shivers down my spine, mixing with the lingering memory of his thrusts, the heat of his commitment.
For a long moment, I just lay there, my heart pounding against my ribs, cheeks burning with shame and a thrill I couldn’t explain. I knew what I had done was wrong, that playing these games with my son was taboo. But Liam’s innocent touch, his untroubled sleep, had cast a spell on me.
I didn’t want to break it. I wanted to feel it again.
Slowly, almost reverently, I slid my hand down his arm, resting my fingers on his muscular chest. He sighed, burrowed deeper into my warmth, seeking more of that comfort that came from my touch alone.
I had a choice. I could pull away, walk back into the shadows of my guilt and regret. Or I could stay. Or I could stay and explore the dangerous, forbidden path we had just started down.
And for now, I felt a tide pulling me toward the latter.
“Shit, Liam,” I muttered, more to myself than to him, my voice a ragged whisper in the darkness of the tent.
This just got a whole lot more complicated.