The rum burned going down, but I needed it. Another shot. My hand trembled as I poured, the bottle clinking against the glass. Vulnerable. That’s the only word for it. Completely and utterly vulnerable. I took a long swallow, the warmth spreading in my chest, but doing little to soothe the knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.
Then, a hand. Warm and firm, it settled on my thigh. Eric’s hand. My heart skipped a beat. It was just a hand, right? But then it started to move. Slowly, inching up my thigh, under the soft hem of my nightie. My breath caught in my throat.
“Oh,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. “You’re wet.” His fingers, warm and insistent, found their way beneath the thin cotton of my panties. Rubbing. There, right there. My body reacted instantly, a jolt of pure sensation shooting through me. Good. It felt good. Too good.
But then, the cold hard truth crashed down. Wrong. This was so wrong. My mouth went dry. I had to stop this.
“Sweetie,” my voice was shaky, barely a whisper. “Eric, what are you doing?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but a tremor ran through it. “You can’t… you can’t rub me there.” My words felt clumsy, inadequate. “I… I’m your mom.” The words hung in the air, heavy and awful.
I gently took his hand in mine, pulling it away from my body. My skin felt hot and flushed where he had touched me. I adjusted my nightie, pulling it down, trying to cover myself, to cover up the shame that was creeping up my neck.
Eric recoiled as if burned. He snatched his hand back, his eyes wide and panicked. He looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet. “S-sorry.” The word was barely audible. He couldn’t meet my eyes. He mumbled, “I… I don’t know what came over me.” His face was burning red, shame etched into every line. “I’m sorry, Mom.” The words tumbled out, rushed and desperate. He looked so lost, so young, and so utterly embarrassed.
My heart hammered against my ribs. The rum suddenly felt like lead in my stomach. His eyes were wide, too wide. Red rimmed them. He looked like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but something in his gaze felt… different. Older.
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy as a blanket. I could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, usually a comforting sound, but now it felt like a loud, accusing drone. I needed to say something, anything, to break this suffocating quiet.
“It’s okay, honey,” I started, my voice wavering a little. “Just… just forget it happened. We all make mistakes, right? Especially when we’ve had a bit to drink.” I tried to force a light laugh, but it sounded hollow and false even to my own ears.
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. His red-rimmed eyes stayed locked on mine. That embarrassed look from a second ago was gone, replaced by something I couldn’t quite read. It made my skin crawl.
“Mom…” he began, his voice low and husky. He took a step closer, and my breath hitched in my throat. My body went rigid. Was he going to touch me again? My stomach clenched with a mixture of fear and something else, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Eric, please,” I said, taking a step back myself. “Just… just go to bed, okay? It’s late. We can talk in the morning. When we’re both… clear headed.” My voice trembled more with each word. I hated how weak I sounded.
He stopped moving forward, but he didn’t back away either. He just stood there, his gaze intense, burning into me. His hands were now clenched into fists at his sides, and I noticed his knuckles were white.
“Clear headed?” he repeated, the words laced with a strange tone I couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t mocking, not exactly, but it wasn’t innocent either. “Is that what you think this is about, Mom? Just the rum?”
My throat dried up. I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. “What else would it be about, Eric? You’re my son.” The words felt weak, inadequate, even as I spoke them. They sounded more like a question than a statement.
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Right,” he said, the word hanging in the air. He took another step closer, and this time I didn’t move. My feet felt rooted to the spot. He was too close now, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with something else, something musky and… male.
“And you’re my mom,” he whispered, his voice dropping even lower. “But sometimes… sometimes moms are more than just moms, aren’t they?” His eyes flickered down to my chest, then back up to meet mine, and a shiver ran down my spine. This wasn’t just about alcohol anymore. This was something else entirely. Something dangerous.
He then leaned in and started kissing my neck, I threw my head back. “Ahhh sweetie… w-what are you doing?”
His hand went between my legs again as he sneaked his hand inside the front of them. He started rubbing in circles against my clit. He dipped a finger inside me as he still kept kissing my neck.
“Ahh… you shouldnt be fingering me,” I didnt stop him this time.
Then he added another as he whispered in my ear, “want me to stop ill stop, I am so hard right now.”
I put my hand between his legs against his jogging bottoms, “oh god you are as well. You feel so damn big.”
His other hand reached for the waistband of his jogging bottoms and tugged them down a little. His cock sprang out and he started fingering me again. I reached for his shaft as I wrapped an hand around it and gave a few slow pumps.
“Talk about your pussy while I finger your,” he said as his fingers went deeper into my vulva.
“Deep and wet,” I breathed out, my voice thick with desire and something else, something shameful and thrilling all at once. “You’re making me so wet, Eric. It’s… it’s dripping onto my leg.” The words felt foreign coming out of my mouth, dirty and liberating.
He chuckled, a low rumble against my neck. “Good,” he murmured, his fingers working faster now, sliding in and out, deeper each time. “Tell me more, Mom. Tell me how wet you are for me.” He nipped at my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine.
“Oh god, Eric…” I gasped, my head lolling back further as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. My pussy throbbed, aching for more. “It’s… it’s so swollen, so hot. Your fingers feel so good inside me.” I squeezed his cock through his jogging bottoms, feeling the thick, hard length straining against the fabric. “And you… you feel incredible too.”
He pulled back slightly from my neck, his eyes burning into mine. “You like that, Mom? You like the way I feel?” His voice was rough, a low growl. “I think your ready for my cock ain’t you, lay down.”
I lay back on the couch, my nightie bunching up around my hips, the cool leather sticking to my flushed skin. My heart pounded, a wild drumbeat in my chest. Eric stood over me, his jogging bottoms halfway down his thighs, his cock thick and heavy, jutting out like a promise of something forbidden. His eyes, dark and hungry, roamed over me, lingering on the damp cotton of my panties, now clinging to my swollen pussy lips.
“Fuck, Mom,” he growled, his voice raw. “Look at you. So wet for me.” He knelt between my legs, his hands rough as he yanked my panties down, the fabric scraping against my thighs. The air hit my exposed cunt, cool against the slick heat. My labia glistened, pink and puffy, my clit throbbing under his gaze. A bead of pussy juice dripped down my inner thigh, leaving a shiny trail.
“Eric…” I whimpered, my voice trembling with shame and need. “This is so wrong.” But my hips betrayed me, lifting slightly, begging for his touch.
“Wrong?” he said, smirking, his fingers tracing the slick folds of my pussy, teasing my entrance. “Your cunt’s telling me different.” He spread my lips apart, exposing the glistening pink inside, my clit swollen and begging. “Look at this pussy. So fucking juicy.” He leaned in, his breath hot against my inner thighs, and I gasped, my hands gripping the couch.
“Ohhh… fuck,” I moaned, my head falling back as his tongue flicked out, lapping at my clit. The sensation was electric, a spark that shot through my whole body. “Eric, you can’t… ahh!” My protest dissolved into a cry as he sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling, relentless.
He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with my juices. “Tell me about this pussy, Mom. Tell me how it feels.” His fingers slid back inside me, two, then three, stretching me, curling against my walls. The wet squelch of my cunt filled the air, obscene and intoxicating.
“It’s… so full,” I gasped, my hips bucking against his hand. “Your fingers… they’re so deep, hitting my… ohhh, fuck, my pussy walls. It’s throbbing, Eric. So wet, it’s dripping down my ass.” My words were filthy, raw, and I couldn’t stop them. My pussy clenched around his fingers, the pressure building, my clit pulsing under his thumb.
He groaned, a deep “ungh” as he pumped his fingers faster, his other hand stroking his cock. “Fuck, Mom, you’re so tight. This pussy’s begging for my cock.” He stood, kicking off his jogging bottoms, his cock bobbing, thick and veined, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. He positioned himself between my legs, the head of his cock brushing my slick entrance, teasing my clit.
“Please…” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Fuck me, Eric. I need it.” The words felt like a surrender, a line crossed. My pussy ached, desperate for him to fill me.
He grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. “You want this cock, Mom? Beg for it.” He rubbed the head against my pussy lips, spreading my juices, the friction maddening.
“Fuck, please!” I cried, my hips grinding against him. “I need your cock inside me. Fuck my pussy, Eric, please, harder, deeper!” My voice was a desperate whine, my shame drowned by lust.
With a grunt, “argh,” he thrust into me, his cock splitting my pussy open, stretching me wide. I screamed, “ahhh!” as he buried himself to the hilt, his balls slapping against my ass. My pussy walls gripped him, pulsing around his thick shaft, the sensation overwhelming.
“Fuck, your cunt’s so tight,” he growled, pulling back slow, then slamming in again with a wet smack. “Unh!” Another thrust, harder, my tits bouncing under my nightie. He yanked the fabric down, my breasts spilling out, nipples hard and pink, jiggling with each thrust.
“Ohhh… fuck, Eric!” I moaned, my hands clawing at his shoulders. “Suck my tits, please!” He leaned down, his mouth latching onto one nipple, sucking hard, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud. My pussy clenched tighter, juices dripping down my thighs, pooling on the couch.
“Talk about your pussy,” he demanded between sucks, his hips pistoning, his cock hitting my cervix with each deep thrust. The sound of our fucking filled the room—wet slaps, my gasps, his grunts.
“It’s… so fucked,” I panted, my voice shaking. “Your cock’s so big, stretching my pussy so wide. My lips… they’re gripping you, so wet, so… ohhh, fuck, juicy! It’s dripping, Eric, my pussy juice is all over your cock!” I could feel it, the slick slide of him, my cunt soaking his shaft, the scent of sex heavy in the air.
He groaned, “ungh,” thrusting harder, faster, his cock slamming into my pussy walls, the friction burning, delicious. “Fuck, Mom, your cunt’s milking me. You want my cum? Want me to fill this pussy?”
“Yes!” I screamed, my orgasm building, a tight coil in my belly. “Cum in me, Eric! Fill my fucking pussy!” My hips bucked, meeting his thrusts, my clit grinding against his pelvis. “Ahh… ohhh… fuck, harder!”
He pounded into me, relentless, his grunts growing louder, “argh… unh!” My tits bounced wildly, his mouth switching to the other nipple, sucking, biting. My pussy spasmed, the first wave of my orgasm crashing over me. “Fuuuck!” I screamed, my cunt squirting, hot juices spraying over his cock, dripping down my ass, soaking the couch.
“Shit, you’re squirting!” he growled, his thrusts erratic, his cock throbbing inside me. “I’m gonna cum… fuck!” With a final “ungh!” he slammed deep, his cock pulsing, hot cum flooding my pussy, mixing with my juices, spilling out around his shaft.
I moaned, “ohhh,” as he kept thrusting, slower now, milking every drop into my cunt. My pussy twitched, aftershocks rippling through me, my thighs trembling. His cum dripped from my stretched pussy, pooling beneath me, thick and white.
He collapsed onto me, his breath ragged, his cock still buried inside. “Fuck, Mom,” he panted, kissing my neck. “Your pussy’s… fucking perfect.”
I lay there, panting, my body humming with pleasure and shame. The refrigerator hummed in the distance, a reminder of the world outside this moment. What had we done? But as Eric’s lips brushed my skin, I knew this wasn’t the end. Not yet.