Emma, a single mother in her mid-thirties, is sitting at the kitchen table, her face flushed with anger as she stares at the overdue bills scattered before her. The stress of juggling a demanding job and raising a teenage son alone has taken its toll, leaving her exhausted and on edge.
Her son, Ethan, lingers in the doorway, his eyes roaming over his mother’s curves, barely concealed by her tight tank top and short skirt. He’s grown taller than her lately, his body lean and muscular from the basketball team. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth as he watches her, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts.
Emma senses his presence and looks up her brow furrowing. “What is it, Ethan? Can’t you see I’m busy?” She snaps, her voice sharp.
Ethan leans against the doorframe, his posture casual and confident.
Ethan’s eyes flicker to his mother’s cleavage, barely contained by the thin fabric of her tank top. He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, before meeting her gaze. “Busy? Or just stressed out again?” His tone is teasing, and flirtatious. Emma’s eyes narrow.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She crosses her arms over her chest, unconsciously pushing her breasts up. Ethan’s gaze drops to her cleavage for a moment before snapping back to her face.
“It means you’re always so tense,” Ethan says, pushing off the doorframe and taking a step into the kitchen. “Maybe you need to relax a little.”He reaches out and gently touches her shoulder, his fingers trailing down her arm.
Emma stiffens at his touch, her heart racing. “Ethan, what are you doing?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She’s suddenly aware of how close he is, of the heat radiating from his body.
Ethan leans in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m trying to help you relax, Mom,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down to her wrist. He gently pulls her arm away from her chest, exposing the soft, smooth skin of her cleavage. “I so wanna bend you over that kitchen table.”
Emma’s breath hitches as Ethan’s fingers trace along the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. She tries to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding her arm in place. “Ethan, stop it,” she whispers, her voice trembling. But even as she says the words, she feels a flutter of excitement in her stomach.
Ethan leans in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he speaks. “Come on, Mom. I know you’re lonely. I know you miss having someone to touch you, to make you feel good.” His free hand slides up her thigh, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her skirt.
Emma gasps, her legs parting slightly as Ethan’s hand moves higher. She knows she should stop him, should push him away, but her body refuses to cooperate. Instead, she finds herself leaning into his touch, her head tilting to the side to give him better access to her neck.
Emma’s heart races as Ethan’s hand slides higher up her thigh, his fingers brushing against the lace of her panties. She bites her lip to stifle a moan, her hips arching slightly to press against his touch. Ethan’s lips trail down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he kisses and bites his way to her collarbone.
“Ethan, we can’t…” Emma whispers, but her words are cut off by a gasp as Ethan’s fingers slip beneath the lace, his touch gentle but insistent. He circles her clit with his thumb, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body.
Emma’s knees weaken, and she grabs onto Ethan’s shoulders for support. His fingers continue their torturous teasing, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. She can feel the heat building between her legs, the ache for release growing with each passing second. Ethan’s other hand slides up her body, pushing her tank top up to expose her breasts. He pauses for a moment, admiring the sight before him, then leans down and takes one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucks and licks at the hardened peak, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
Emma’s hands clutch at Ethan’s hair, holding him against her chest as he worships her breasts. She’s lost in a haze of sensation, her mind foggy with lust and desire. She knows this is wrong, that she should stop him, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Not when it feels so good.
He then spun her around as she gets bent over the table, he pulled her skirt up and her panties down. All she heard then was his zipper go down.
Emma’s heart pounds in her chest as Ethan bends her over the kitchen table, the cool wood pressing against her heated skin. She hears the sound of his zipper descending, and a shiver runs through her body. She knows what’s coming, and knows that she should protest, but the words stick in her throat. Instead, she bites her lip and spreads her legs wider, inviting him in. Ethan steps closer, his hands gripping her hips firmly. She can feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his erection pressing against her backside. He leans over her, his chest flush against her back, his lips brushing against her ear. “Is this what you want, Mom?” he whispers, his voice low and husky. “Do you want your own son to fuck you?”
Emma’s breath hitches, her body trembling with a mix of excitement and shame. She nods, unable to speak, unable to deny the truth of his words.
Ethan’s hands grip Emma’s hips tighter as he positions himself at her entrance. He pauses for a moment, savouring the anticipation, before slowly pushing forward. Emma gasps as she feels him slide inside her, stretching her, filling her completely. It’s been so long since she’s been with a man, and the sensation is overwhelming.
Ethan begins to move, his hips thrusting slowly at first, then gaining speed as he finds his rhythm. Emma’s fingers dig into the table, her knuckles turning white as she tries to steady herself against his powerful thrusts. The sound of their bodies coming together fills the kitchen, a wet, slapping noise that echoes off the walls.
Ethan’s pace quickens, his hips slamming against Emma’s backside with increasing force. The table creaks and shakes beneath them, threatening to collapse under the weight of their passion. Emma’s moans grow louder, more desperate, as Ethan’s cock hits her deepest spots. She pushes back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour, her own desires consuming her.
“Fuck, Mom,” Ethan grunts, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. “Shall I stop fucking you?”
Emma’s body trembles with pleasure and shame as Ethan’s thick cock fills her completely. His powerful thrusts rock her entire body, the table creaking beneath them. She bites her lip to stifle a scream as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside her.
“No, don’t stop,” she gasps, her voice ragged with desire. “I should say…. stop but ahh honey. Please, Ethan, keep fucking me. I need it.”
“Unngh,” Ethan grunted as her ass slapped against his abs as he pumped his dick into her harder.
Emma’s eyes flutter closed as Ethan’s relentless thrusts push her closer and closer to the edge. Her body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. She can feel Ethan’s hot breath on her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he pants and grunts with exertion. His fingers dig into her hips, pulling her back against him with each powerful thrust.
“Yes, Ethan,” she moans, her voice barely recognizable. “Fuck me harder. I… can’t believe your dick is inside of me.”
Ethan’s hips move faster, his breath coming in short gasps as he feels his own release approaching.”Fuck, Mom,” he pants, his voice strained with effort. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna come inside you.”Emma’s body tenses, her muscles tightening around Ethan’s throbbing cock. The thought of him filling her with his seed, marking her as his, sends her over the edge.
“Yes, “she cries out, her voice echoing off the kitchen walls. “Come inside me, Ethan. I want to feel it.”
Ethan lets out a guttural groan as he buries himself deep inside Emma, his body shuddering with release. He pulses and throbs within her, his hot come flooding her insides. Emma’s own orgasm crashes over her, her body convulsing with pleasure as wave after wave of ecstasy washes through her.
Emma’s body trembles as Ethan’s hot seed fills her, his throbbing cock buried deep inside her. She collapses forward onto the table, her limbs shaking with the aftermath of their forbidden encounter. Ethan leans over her, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. For a long moment, neither of them speaks, the only sound the wet, sucking noise of Ethan’s softening dick slipping out of Emma’s well-used hole.
Emma pushes herself up on shaky arms, turning her head to look at Ethan over her shoulder. His hair is tousled, his cheeks flushed, and his lips swollen from kissing her. He looks like a stranger to her, this grown man who is her own son. A pang of guilt stabs at her heart, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the lingering warmth of her orgasm.
“Ethan, we can’t… we shouldn’t have…” she starts, her voice trembling.
Ethan’s gaze is intense as he looks down at Emma, his expression a mix of satisfaction and something darker, more possessive. He reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering on her cheek.
“Shouldn’t have what, Mom?” he asks, his voice low and husky. “Shouldn’t have made you feel good? Shouldn’t have given you what you needed?”He leans in closer, his lips brushing against her ear.”Because from where I’m standing, it looked like you enjoyed every second of it.”
Emma shivers at his touch, her body still sensitive from their encounter. She knows he’s right, knows that she did enjoy it, but that doesn’t make it any less wrong. She turns her head away, unable to meet his gaze. “It was a mistake, Ethan,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “We can’t let it happen again.”
Ethan’s eyes narrow, a flash of anger crossing his face before he quickly masks it with a smirk. He leans back, giving Emma some space as he zips up his pants. “A mistake, huh?” he says, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something darker. “Funny, it didn’t feel like a mistake when you were screaming my name a minute ago.”
Emma flinches at his words, a blush creeping up her neck. She pushes herself off the table, tugging her skirt down and straightening her tank top. “Don’t,” she says sharply, holding up a hand to silence him.
“Just… just leave me alone, Ethan. I need to think.” Ethan watches her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he turns and walks out of the kitchen, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts and the lingering ache between her legs.
Emma stands alone in the kitchen, the silence deafening in the wake of Ethan’s departure. She leans against the counter, her knees still weak from their encounter. Her mind races, trying to process what just happened, what she just did. She feels a mix of emotions – shame, guilt, arousal, confusion. She buries her face in her hands, a shuddering sigh escaping her lips.
She knows she should feel horrible about what she did, about letting her own son touch her, fuck her. But as much as she tries to ignore it, the lingering warmth between her legs, the sensitivity of her skin, and the ache in her muscles, all serve as reminders of the pleasure she experienced. A pleasure she hasn’t felt in years.
Emma lifts her head, staring at the scattered bills on the table, the source of her earlier anger and stress. Suddenly, they seem insignificant compared to the weight of what just occurred.