The clinking of ice against glass was the only sound that could be heard over the quiet hum of the late evening. I watched the condensation bead on the outside of my gin and tonic, a small, fleeting drama mirroring the subtle unease that had been simmering within me all evening. Julie sat opposite me on the patio, the fairy lights casting long, dancing shadows across her face. At 45, she still held a certain youthful energy, a kind of breezy confidence that sometimes felt like a soft jab, even if unintentionally so.
We were old friends, Julie and I. We’d navigated the choppy waters of our twenties together, shared bad dates, workplace dramas, and the unwavering belief that our lives were on the cusp of something truly spectacular. Now, decades later, life had delivered… something else. Something less spectacular, certainly, but also something real, grounded, and often, just quietly ordinary. But lately, the ordinary felt a little too quiet.
I took a slow sip of my drink, the juniper a familiar, welcome bite. “He’s really thriving at the gym, isn’t he?” Julie said, her voice light, almost too light.
“Gary? Yes, he is,” I replied, a hint of pride warming my chest. “Fitness instructor and massage therapist, who would have thought? He’s always been active, but this, this feels like his calling.”
Julie swirled the wine in her glass, the ruby liquid catching the fairy light. “And apparently very popular with the ladies,” she added with a sly smile.
I chuckled, a little too loudly. “Oh, I’m sure. Eighteen and built like… well, like a fitness instructor. He gets his fair share of attention, I imagine.” I tried to keep it casual, but a tiny flicker of something – was it envy? – pricked at me. Julie had always possessed this effortless appeal, this magnetic pull that drew people in. Me? I’d always been more… grounded. Less magnetic, perhaps.
“You must be so proud,” Julie continued, her gaze unwavering, a little too intense. “To have such a handsome, capable son.”
“I am,” I said, meeting her gaze directly. “Very proud.”
A comfortable silence settled between us, punctuated only by the chirping of crickets in the garden. But it wasn’t entirely comfortable. It was the kind of silence that hummed with unspoken things, with the history we shared, the paths we’d diverged onto, the subtle comparisons that inevitably crept into female friendships, especially those that had weathered the storms of time.
“It must be… different,” Julie finally said, breaking the silence, her tone shifting, becoming a little softer, a little more probing. “Being a single mom now. With Gary almost a man.”
My heart gave a tiny thump, a subtle recognition of the vulnerability she was nudging. My divorce, still relatively fresh, still felt raw at times. And yes, it was different. The house felt bigger, emptier. The quiet evenings were less peaceful and more… just quiet.
“It has its moments,” I admitted, choosing my words carefully. “It’s an adjustment, of course. But we’re managing.”
“Managing,” Julie repeated, the word hanging in the air, laced with a hint of something I couldn’t quite decipher. Pity? Curiosity? Or something else entirely?
She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the small table separating us, her gaze becoming more focused, more intimate. “You know,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you’re still so… vibrant. You haven’t aged a day, honestly. That long brunette hair, still so thick and glossy. And you’re as slim as you ever were. Some women, they just seem to… wither. But you, you’re like a fine wine, truly.”
Her compliments, usually welcome, now felt… too much. Too studied. Too close to the bone. A prickle of unease spread through me. “Julie, you’re being ridiculous,” I said, attempting a light laugh, but it felt forced, brittle.
“No, I’m serious!” she insisted, her voice rising slightly, her eyes sparkling with an unnerving intensity. “You could have any man you wanted, honestly. You just radiate… desirability.”
Desirability. The word hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. It felt like she was dissecting me, laying me bare under the soft glow of the fairy lights, analyzing my single status, my perceived attractiveness, like a specimen under a microscope.
“Julie, I’m not really thinking about ‘desirability’ right now,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from this increasingly uncomfortable territory. “I’m more focused on… everything else. Work, Gary, just… life.”
“But don’t you… miss it?” she pressed, her voice taking on a softer, almost seductive tone. “The… intimacy? The connection? Don’t you feel… lonely?”
Lonely. The word hit me harder than I wanted to admit. Yes, sometimes, in the quiet of the night, when the house was still and only the murmur of the television filled the void, loneliness did creep in. But it was a private ache, a personal vulnerability I wasn’t prepared to dissect with Julie, especially not in this strangely probing, almost unsettling way.
“Everyone feels lonely sometimes, Julie,” I said, keeping my voice even, trying to project a calm I wasn’t entirely feeling. “It’s part of being human.”
“But you… you deserve to be… fulfilled,” she continued, her gaze drifting down to my chest, lingering there for a moment too long, before flicking back up to meet my eyes. “You’re still so… beautiful, you really are.”
Her compliments, now tinged with this unsettling intensity, felt like a violation, a stripping away of something private and personal. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the ice in my drink melting rapidly, diluting the gin, mirroring the way my patience was thinning.
“Julie, what are you getting at?” I asked, my voice losing its forced lightness, becoming sharper, more direct.
She blinked, as if surprised by my directness, then a small, almost knowing smile touched her lips. “Just… thinking about you,” she said, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “Thinking about you being… alone. And how unfair it is. When you have so much… to offer.”
“Julie, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine,” I said, my voice firm now, pushing back against her persistent probing. “Really. I’m adjusting. I’m happy. I have Gary. I have my friends. I have my life. I don’t need… whatever it is you think I need.”
She leaned back in her chair, finally breaking eye contact, her smile fading, replaced by a look that was… calculating? Disappointed? I couldn’t quite read it. She took a long sip of her wine, the silence returning, but now it was thick with a palpable tension, a simmering unease that crackled between us like static electricity.
“You know,” she said finally, her voice low and almost conspiratorial, breaking the silence, “Gary is… quite something, isn’t he?”
I frowned, confused by the sudden shift in topic. “Yes, he is. As I said, I’m very proud of him.”
“And he’s… a massage therapist, right?” she continued, her voice laced with a strange kind of inflection I couldn’t place.
“Yes, he is,” I repeated, still frowning. “He’s very good at it, apparently. Gets booked solid at the gym.”
Julie’s gaze intensified again, locking onto mine with unnerving focus. “And he’s… very hands-on, isn’t he?”
I felt a cold knot forming in my stomach. Where was she going with this? What was she implying? My skin prickled with discomfort, with a dawning sense of… something deeply wrong.
“Julie, what are you talking about?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, my heart beginning to pound in my chest.
She leaned forward again, her voice dropping to a breathy whisper, her eyes glittering with an unsettling light. “Well,” she said, her voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet tone, “he’s your son, of course. But he’s also… a man. A strong, capable, very… talented man.” She paused, letting her words hang in the air, thick with unspoken meaning, then leaned even closer, her breath warm and unpleasant on my cheek. “And sometimes, you know,” she whispered, her eyes flicking down to my chest again, “sometimes, family can be… very convenient. God I am married but I would let your son destroy me anytime, my fanny is wet just thinking about it.”
A wave of nausea washed over me. My blood ran cold. I stared at her, speechless, my mind reeling, trying to comprehend the horrifying implications of her words. The casual compliments, the probing questions, the unsettling intensity – it all clicked into place, forming a grotesque, sickening picture.
Before I could even begin to formulate a response, to scream, to lash out, I heard the sound of the back door opening, the familiar squeak of the hinges cutting through the tense silence. My head snapped towards the sound, a desperate sense of relief flooding through me, even as the horror of Julie’s words still echoed in my mind.
“Stop we talk about this another time Julie,” I said, my voice shaking, but firm, desperate to shut down this conversation, to escape the suffocating weight of her implications, as I heard my son Gary.
Then Gary walks into the kitchen and straight to the fridge in just his jogging bottoms and sweaty chest as he’s just been exercising.
“Gary haven’t you got any friends who can give your mom, well a good seeing to,” Julie said which shocked me.
“Julie for fuck sake, don’t ask my son that,” I said really embarrassed.
“Julie for fuck sake, don’t ask my son that,” I said, really embarrassed. My face burned, a hot flush creeping up my neck. What was wrong with her? Why was she pushing this so relentlessly, and in front of Gary? I risked a quick glance at my son. He was rummaging in the fridge, his back to us, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight rigidity in his posture. He’d heard. Of course, he’d heard.
“What?” Julie said, feigning innocence, but her eyes were bright with a knowing, almost malicious glint. “Just suggesting a solution to your… loneliness. Gary knows I’m just joking, right?” She turned towards him, her voice suddenly sweet and sickeningly playful. “Gary, darling, your mom is too gorgeous to be single, isn’t she? Don’t you agree she deserves… attention?”
“I think what Julie means is that you should find someone who appreciates you, mom,” Gary said, his voice soft, his eyes still holding mine. “You deserve to be happy.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “I am happy, Gary,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “I don’t need… anyone else to make me happy.”
Julie snorted, a cruel, dismissive sound that made my skin crawl. “Oh, come on, don’t be ridiculous,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a beautiful, vibrant woman. You need a man who can appreciate that, who can give you what you need.” She then just stared at Gary’s Jogging bottom crotch as he stood there downing a bottle of water. I couldn’t help look to where she was looking, and omg I could see a long length limp dangling against the fabric.
Deep down I really needed a good seeing to, Julie was right. But some of Gary’s friends were young like him and some childish. I needed a man, I couldn’t stop staring at his crotch and my cunt started to react. I shook my head I can’t be thinking these things and looking at his crotch. I was practically Frothing at the gash.
“Mom you ok there you are in a trance,” he said as he sat down with us checking his phone.
“Oh, I’m fine, just lost in thought,” I said, my voice sounding a little too bright even to my own ears. “So, how was your workout today?”
Gary shrugged, his gaze flicking between Julie and me. “It was good,” he said, his voice neutral. “I’m starting to see some real progress.” He paused for a moment before adding tentatively, “You know you can always join me at the gym if you want to get back into shape.”
Julie laughed softly under her breath. “That sounds like a great idea,” she said with an unsettling enthusiasm that made my skin crawl again. She turned towards Gary with an almost predatory focus in her eyes as she added in a low whisper that only he could hear over the sound of the crickets chirping outside: “Maybe we could make it… more of a private session?”
I watched as Gary’s eyes widened slightly, his face flushing a deep red. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. I could see the tension radiating from him, the barely contained outrage at Julie’s audacious suggestion. I felt a surge of protectiveness towards him, mixed with a deep sense of unease. I needed to shut this down, to protect both of us from Julie’s increasingly erratic behavior.
“Julie, that’s enough,” I said, my voice firm and unyielding. “I won’t tolerate this kind of talk, especially not in front of Gary.”
Julie shrugged, a small, petulant gesture that made my blood boil. “What?” she said, her voice dripping with false innocence. “I’m just trying to help. You’re a beautiful woman, and your son is a handsome, successful man. It’s a perfect match, really.”
I could feel my temper fraying, my hands shaking slightly as I tried to maintain my composure. “Julie, I said that’s enough,” I repeated, my voice low and dangerous. “This is inappropriate, and I won’t stand for it.”
She rolled her eyes, a childish, petty gesture that only served to fuel my anger. “Fine, whatever,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m going to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She stood up, her chair scraping against the tile floor, and walked away, leaving a palpable tension in her wake. I turned towards Gary, my eyes filled with concern. “I’m so sorry, Gary,” I said, my voice trembling. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. I had no idea she felt this way.”
Gary sighed, a deep, weary sound that spoke volumes. “It’s okay, mom,” he said, his voice strained. “I know she didn’t mean anything by it. She’s just… misguided, I guess.”
I shook my head, my heart aching with guilt and shame. “No, it’s not okay,” I said, my voice fierce. “She had no right to say those things, especially not to you. You’re my son, and I love you. I would never…”
I was cut off by the sound of Julie’s voice, sharp and cutting, as she reentered the patio, her demeanor now icy and controlled. “Well, it seems I’ve overstayed my welcome,” she said, her tone laced with a hint of something that sent a shiver down my spine. “I’ll leave you two to your… family time.”
Before I could even respond, she turned on her heel and walked away, her steps echoing loudly in the sudden silence that descended upon us. Gary and I sat there for a moment, the tension thick between us like a heavy fog.
“I’m sorry about that, Gary,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I never expected…”
He reached out and placed a hand over mine, his touch warm and reassuring. His eyes on my cleavage as his hand felt so soft and yet strong. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t mean any of it. Julie is just… Julie. I am off to the store, how about I get few bottles of wine and a lot of snacks and we chill tonight, me and you yeah.”
As I watched Gary walk away, a strange mixture of emotions swirled through me. There was relief, certainly – relief that Julie had finally left, and that I could now breathe easily again without fearing what outrageous statement she might make next. But there was also something else – something darker and more complex. I couldn’t take naughty thoughts out my head, I shouldn’t hes my boy, my flesh and blood. Julie you bitch what have you done to me.
“Yes sweetie that be great. But what about your routine, can’t eat junk and drink.” I laughed watching him grab his car keys as I stared at his crotch.
“Don’t worry about that, Mom,” he said with a wink, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’ll just work it off later. I can help you work it off too if you like. Be right back mom.”
He walks out to his car, I can see his bulge through his jogging bottoms and my pussy is pulsating. The way he just said that with a wink had me all flustered. I took a deep breath and went to the kitchen sink, pouring out the rest of my drink into it, feeling like a weight was lifted off my chest.
I went upstairs to get changed, as I reached my room I got undressed. Taking off my bra also and rubbing under my heavy tits where the bra as been rubbing into and hurting. I left my bra off and kept my red knickers on and just put on a t shirt which barley covered my knickers. I went back downstairs and sat on the couch with my legs curled under me as I grabbed the remote.
As I settled back on the couch, the soft fabric against my bare skin felt like a soothing balm. The evening had left me shaken, the awkwardness of Julie’s words still echoing in my mind like a haunting melody. But now, alone, I could finally let out the breath I’d been holding. The quiet of the house enveloped me, a cocoon of solace from the earlier tension.
I heard the sound of the car pulling back into the driveway, the familiar rumble bringing a smile to my lips, a mix of relief and anticipation. Gary was back, and with him, the promise of normalcy, of safety from the strange, perverse suggestions that had marred our evening. The door opened, and he walked in, his arms laden with bags, a playful grin on his face that warmed my heart.
“Got the good stuff, Mom, oof you look comfy,” he announced, setting the bags down on the coffee table with a gentle thud. That grin, so full of life and innocence, chased away some of the shadows Julie had cast.
“Thanks, sweetie,” I said, my voice bouncing back to its usual warmth, a bit louder than necessary to drown out the lingering unease. “Let’s make a night of it, huh? Just you and me, no more awkward talks.”
He nodded, his smile broadening, and I could see him letting go of the earlier tension, too. “Exactly, Mom. Tonight’s about us.” There was a lightness in his step as he began to unpack the goodies, the rustling of bags and the clinking of bottles sounding like the most comforting symphony.
As he worked, I stood up to help, feeling the soft T-shirt brush against my thighs, the fabric barely covering my panties, reminding me just how much my body craved attention that wasn’t just the mundane touch of clothes. The red lace hugged me snug, a secret beneath the casualness of our evening. My heart skipped a beat as I caught Gary’s glance, a quick, appreciative look that darted away too fast. Had he noticed the outline of my gash, the slight dampness that clung to the fabric?
“Sorry Gary I shouldn’t be sat here like this in just a t shirt. It’s just so bloody warm,” I said as I took a drink from him which he poured me.
He plopped down beside me on the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight, and we both reached for snacks, the air between us lightening with each passing second.
The night rolled on, wine and laughter flowing freely, the tension melting with each shared smile. Then, as Gary leaned in to grab another snack, his arm brushed against my breasts, an accidental graze but one that sent a jolt through me. “Oops, sorry, Mom,” he said, looking very embarrassed.
“No worries, sweetie,” I reassured him with a light touch to his hand, trying to play off the sudden tightness in my chest.
“Mom,” he began, his voice a low, cautious whisper. “About earlier… with Julie. I… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
I stepped closer, my heart pounding, the distance between us shrinking. “You didn’t,” I assured him, reaching out to touch his arm, feeling the firm muscle beneath. “It was her, not you. You’ve been nothing but sweet tonight.”
“Good,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a way that wasn’t just comforting. “Because… because I really care about how you feel. You deserve… everything.”
My breath caught. The words, the touch, they were too much, too intimate. And yet, they were everything.
Before I could respond, before I could pull away or push closer, Gary leaned in. “And Mom, if you ever need… anything. Not just a work out session or a massage from me. Anything. I’m here.”
“Thanks, love,” I whispered back, my voice barely above a breath, my heart hammering in my chest. His closeness was intoxicating, the scent of his sweat mingled with the day’s exertion, oddly comforting.
He eased back, his eyes locking with mine, a silent understanding passing between us. “No thanks needed, Mom,” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Just remember, I’m always here for you.”
A comfortable silence enveloped us, filled with the occasional clink of glasses, the laughter over silly jokes and shared memories, but beneath it, a current of electricity hummed, one I dared not acknowledge.
Then, in the midst of our easy banter, as Gary reached for the wine bottle, his fingers brushed against the hem of my T-shirt, grazing the soft skin of my thigh, and… “Oops!” he exclaimed, pulling back quickly, his eyes wide with surprise, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
I laughed, trying to ease the sudden tension, yet feeling the air thicken. “It’s okay, Gary. Just… clumsy hands tonight,” I joked, though the touch had sent a shiver through me.
He chuckled, the sound a little too low, a little too close. “Clumsy but honest, right?” His voice carried a playful edge, yet there was an undercurrent, a hint of something more.
The room seemed to shrink, the air dense with unspoken words. “Always honest,” I replied, my voice dropping, daring to meet his gaze, which held a spark I hadn’t seen before.
Gary leaned in, his voice a murmur, “And honesty’s important, isn’t it? Especially when we’re talking about… what we really need.” His eyes didn’t waver, and suddenly, the topic wasn’t just wine and snacks anymore.
My breath caught, the air between us charged. “Absolutely,” I managed, the word coming out a whisper. What was happening? The line between us blurred, and yet, I couldn’t look away.
The television flickered, casting moving shadows, but our eyes remained locked. “Mom,” Gary started, his voice dipping low, “I meant what I said. If you ever need… help. With anything.” His hand brushed my knee, a feigned accident, yet deliberate, sending a thrill up my spine.
I swallowed hard, my pulse racing at the contact. “Gary, you’re making me blush,” I teased, trying to deflect, but my body betrayed me, aching for more of his touches, more of his warmth. I noticed he started getting an hardon in his jogging bottoms. “But what exactly are you getting at here.”
“Gary,” I began, my voice a whisper, the weight of the moment pressing down. “I think we’re stepping into… complicated territory here.” My body, though, betrayed my words, leaning ever so slightly towards him, the fabric of my T-shirt grazing his side, too light, too revealing.
He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, his hand not moving from my knee, the warmth of it seeping through. “Complicated, maybe,” he agreed, voice velvet in the dim light. “But honest too, right? We’ve always been honest with each other, Mom.”
His nearness was a magnetic pull, his eyes searching mine in a way that was new, yet familiar. The playful innocence of earlier had bled into something charged and intense. I felt my breath catch at the sight of the bulge in his joggers, growing more pronounced, reacting to the charged air, to his proximity. My heart raced, pounding in my ears, the sound almost drowning out the distant hum of the television.
“Very honest,” I managed, the air between us electric, the thrum of my pulse beating in my throat. “But this… this isn’t something we can just joke about.”
His thumb stopped, a silent acknowledgment of the line we teetered on. Then, with a bravery that startled me, Gary shifted closer, his breath a warm caress against my cheek. “I know, Mom. And I’m not joking. If you’re lonely, if you… if you ache for touch, real touch, more than a hug or a massage…” His voice trailed off, leaving the suggestion hanging, bold and unapologetic.
The room seemed to shrink, every sound amplified—the soft rustle of my T-shirt, the breathy silence, the distant hum of the refrigerator. My body responded, my gash, hidden beneath the thin lace, growing damp with anticipation. I felt my cheeks flush, betraying the turmoil within. “Gary,” I started again, my voice a mere whisper, “we can’t…”
But before I could finish, his fingers, bold and sure, traced the outline of the lace, a feather-light touch that sent a shockwave through me. “Mom, I see you,” he murmured, his voice low, understanding the unspoken need. “I see how you look at me, how your body reacts. And I… I feel the same.”
My hand, almost of its own accord, found his, halting his exploration, yet not pushing him away. His skin was warm, alive. “Gary,” I breathed, the warning in my voice softening to a plea. “We shouldn’t…”
“Shouldn’t we, Mom?” he interrupted, his gaze unwavering, his face inches from mine. “Or shouldn’t we because of what others might think? Because of rules that don’t apply here, now, between us?”
The question hung, a dare wrapped in velvet. His hand, still on my knee, inched higher, a silent agreement passing between us. The boundary, once clear, blurred. His other hand, bold and seeking, found my waist, pulling me gently, inexorably closer.
I gasped, the anticipation coiling tighter, a knot of want and fear. “Gary, this is…,” but my words faltered as his lips, soft, warm, brushed against my neck, a fleeting touch that ignited something primal.
“Is right,” he finished for me, his voice a promise, as his hand slid under the hem of my shirt, skin on skin, sending sparks along my spine. His touch was sure, yet tender, a contrast that melted any remaining resistance.
“Gary…” I tried again, my voice now a plea, but it was lost in the sound of our mingling breaths, the soft hush of skin meeting skin, the whispered caresses that seemed to echo louder than words.
His lips found mine, a soft, questioning pressure, seeking permission, yet knowing the answer. The kiss, when it came, was a revelation—deep, hungry, and achingly tender. The world narrowed to the press of our bodies, the slide of tongues, the wet, sloppy sound of our kiss drawing us deeper into forbidden territory.
My hands, traitorous in their desire, found their way to his shoulders, gripping, pulling him closer. His hardness, unmistakable now, pressed against my thigh, a silent plea. My heart pounded, the beat syncing with the pulse between my legs, a drumbeat of need.
Breaking the kiss, breathless, I searched his face, looking for hesitation, for regret. Instead, I found mirrored desire, a hunger that matched my own. “Gary,” I breathed, my voice hoarse with emotion. “This changes everything.”
“It already has, Mom,” he whispered, his lips grazing mine again. “For the better.”
With that, he slipped a hand beneath my T-shirt, cupping my breast, the warmth of his palm a stark contrast to the cool air. I arched into his touch, a moan escaping, muffled by the press of his lips once more. His fingers, knowing, teased and caressed, drawing soft, desperate sounds from me, the slick of my gash an undeniable invitation.
“Gary,” I whispered against his lips, “I need…”
The words weren’t necessary; he understood. With a deft movement, he slid off the couch, kneeling between my parted legs. His hands, those strong, capable hands, traced the lace, the outline of my desire clear. A soft, almost reverent “Mom,” fell from his lips as he hooked his fingers under the fabric, pulling it aside, revealing my wet, needy pussy to his gaze.
The air between us was heavy with anticipation, the silence punctuated by the sound of his breath, ragged now, and the soft, wet hush as he parted my folds, exploring, worshipping. His touch, oh so gentle yet firm, elicited a gasp, the sensation both foreign and intoxicating.
“Gary, please,” I begged, as he smiled and laid me down on the couch as he got between my legs.
“Please what mom,” but as I was about to answer him he rammed hard forward which made me gasp and moan, “Ahhhh honey… w-what are you doing.”
He was inside me and started to fuck me.
“Gary, oh my god…” I gasped, my voice caught between pleasure, “your dicks inside me… ahhh. We can’t do this.”
“Gary… oh fuck your dicks… ummmmm harder.” I cried out, my voice cracking, a desperate plea lost in the intoxicating rhythm he was setting. His strokes were deep, insistent, filling me completely. “This… this is wrong,” I managed, but the words felt hollow, meaningless against the wave of pleasure washing over me.
He paused, bracing himself above me, his eyes locked on mine, dark and intense. “Does it feel wrong, Mom?” he whispered, his breath hot against my cheek. “Tell me the truth. Ungh fuck your pussy needs this.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, arching my back, the friction building to an unbearable crescendo. My pussy clenched around him, a desperate embrace. “No,” I moaned, the sound lost in the gasps that wracked my body. “It feels… it feels too good. And yes… m-my pussy needs it.”
He took that as permission, his thrusts becoming more insistent, deeper, each stroke sending shivers down my spine. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate for more. My nails dug into his back, the feel of his muscles flexing beneath my fingers fueling the fire within.
“Tell me what you want, Mom,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust.
“I… I want you,” I confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I want you inside me, deeper, harder.”
He obliged without hesitation, his movements growing frenzied, his body a powerful force driving into mine. The couch creaked beneath us, the sounds of our ragged breathing filling the room. I could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter within me, a spring about to burst.
He shifted slightly, lifting my hips higher, his fingers digging into my flesh. I gasped, the pressure building, a wave of heat flooding my body.
“Almost there, Mom,” he whispered, his voice a husky promise. “Let go.”
And I did. The world exploded in a riot of sensation, my body convulsing, waves of pleasure washing over me, each one more intense than the last. Squeezes from my pussy reverberated up my spine, the release raw and electrifying. I cried out, a primal scream of pure ecstasy, my body shaking uncontrollably as I reached the peak.
He rode the wave with me, his thrusts growing deeper, faster, his own release imminent. I could feel the tremors wracking his body, the heat of his skin against mine. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, as he pushed deeper, one final, earth-shattering thrust that sent me spiralling into oblivion.
He pulled back slightly, turning me onto my hands and knees, and began to pump into me doggystyle. “Gary”, I squealed as he hit my most sensitive spot and sent me squirting on the couch which spurred him on even more.
“Oh, fuck, Mom,” he groaned, his voice thick with release. And then, with a final, shuddering gasp, he emptied himself inside me, his seed pulsing deep within my womb.
We collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and sweat, our breathing ragged and shallow. The world slowly swam back into focus, the reality of what we had just done crashing down on us. The silence was deafening, broken only by the pounding of our hearts.
Finally, Gary rolled off me, lying beside me on the couch, his eyes closed. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I looked at him, at the sweat-drenched skin, the flushed cheeks, the sated expression on his face. He looked beautiful, powerful, and utterly forbidden.
I reached out, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the stubble rough against my skin. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with mine.
“Gary,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “What have we done?”