The hazy smoke hung thick in my room, illuminated by the glow of my laptop screen. Bob Marley played softly, a familiar comfort as I took another long drag from the joint. I was finally starting to unwind after a brutal week at work. That’s when my phone buzzed on the desk.
I picked it up, squinting at the screen. Mom. Odd. She was usually buried in a book at this hour. We lived in the same house, practically shouting distance away. Why text?
A knot of unease tightened in my stomach as I unlocked the phone. The message read: “Look at what you’re missing, I hope you’re ok with that stupid slut. [Image]”
My breath hitched. The image hadn’t fully loaded yet, just a blurry thumbnail. But the message… it was laced with venom, the kind she usually reserved for Dad since the separation. I braced myself, half expecting some passive-aggressive jab about his new girlfriend.
The image resolved itself, and my world tilted on its axis. It was a photo of her chest, topless. No bra.
My heart hammered against my ribs. My mind struggled to process what I was seeing. It wasn’t some glamorous, posed shot. The lighting was soft, probably from the bedside lamp. She was lying down, maybe propped up on pillows. The angle was slightly from above, revealing the gentle curve of her breasts. They weren’t huge, not like the surgically enhanced ones plastered across the internet. But they were full, naturally shaped. The areolas were a deep, dusky rose, contrasting with the pale skin of her chest. Her nipples were pert, slightly darkened at the tips.
A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me: shock, disbelief, a creeping sense of violation. Mixed with a strange, undeniable… attraction. I felt a rush of heat flood my face. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I swiped shut the image, my thumb clumsy. My head was spinning. It was obviously meant for Dad, a desperate, angry attempt to make him regret his choices. My parents’ breakup had been messy. Mom was hurt, furious, humiliated. But involving me like this? It was beyond the pale.
My fingers trembled as I typed a response. “Not sure that was meant for me but thanks I guess. Your right dad is missing out, he’s an asshole. You have nice tits.” I debated deleting it a hundred times, each word feeling increasingly inappropriate, but I sent it.
Almost instantly, my phone buzzed again.
The message read: “Oh my god. I am SO sorry Danny. Wrong number. Delete that immediately. Did you really say nice tits to me, your mother? Sweet of you even though you shouldn’t say that baby.”
I test the waters, “Do I have to delete it, I really like them and admire them. God, they look so good.”
Then it appeared: “Danny, please. I’m mortified. This is… deeply inappropriate. Why would you want to keep them? A photo of my boobs.”
I took a shaky breath, trying to sound nonchalant, even a little teasing. “Because they’re…a work of art? Seriously, Mom, you look amazing. And dad is a moron for ever leaving you. You’re beautiful.”
A pause stretched, thick and uncomfortable, longer than any silence I could remember. My thumb hovered over the volume button, ready to kill the Bob Marley tune should she call. I dreaded hearing her voice, hearing the shame, the anger, maybe even tears.
Finally, the screen lit up. “Danny, I appreciate the… sentiment. But this conversation has gone too far. I guess, ok you can keep it. Dont be showing your friends ok.”
My pulse quickened. The permission, however, veiled, was a shot of adrenaline. A twisted little thrill ran through me. “Okay,” I typed back, careful not to sound too eager. “My eyes only. I promise.”
I kept looking back at the image, I got my cock out and started jerking off.
Then, another message: “What are you doing now?”
I let go of my dick so I could text back, “trust me, you don’t want to know.”
After an eternity, the message popped up. “Maybe I do. Tell me.”
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This was insane. Wrong on so many levels. But the forbidden allure, the sheer audacity of it all, had me completely ensnared. The image of her breasts, burned into my memory, and pulsed behind my eyelids.
Taking a deep breath, I typed, my fingers trembling slightly, “Thinking about you. About the picture.” I paused, letting the words hang there, raw and exposed. “Touching myself.”
“Oh,” she replied, the single word a universe of unspoken meaning.
My mind raced. Was that…curiosity? Disappointment? A vague, unsettling mix of both? I couldn’t tell. I decided to press on, fueled by a potent cocktail of lust, guilt, and a reckless need to see how far this twisted game could go.
“Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’? Also, what are you doing mom,” I typed, my fingers dancing nervously over the keyboard.
The three dots appeared almost instantly, a digital representation of her unease. I imagined her in her room, bathed in the soft glow of her own bedside lamp, her face a mixture of shock and something else I couldn’t quite name. Was it… titillation? The thought sent another jolt of heat through me.
Then, the reply: “Danny, this is… I don’t even know what this is. Stop. Please.”
But the “please” felt weak, almost an afterthought. I sensed a hesitation, a flicker of something beneath the surface of her shock. I decided to push, carefully.
“Stop what? Thinking you’re incredibly hot? Admiring your… assets? I can’t just turn that off, Mom. Not now.”
I waited, the seconds stretching into an eternity. The silence was deafening, broken only by the rhythmic thump of my pulse in my ears. I risked another glance at the picture. Her breasts, so soft, so vulnerable, so… attainable.
Finally, the screen lit up again. “What if I told you I was also… touching myself?”
My breath hitched. The words were out there, hanging in the digital ether, a line crossed, a taboo shattered. This was beyond anything I could have imagined.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I typed, honesty forcing its way through the haze of arousal.
“Say you want to know more,” she replied, the words almost daring me.
My fingers flew across the keyboard. “I want to know everything.”
“I’m lying in bed,” she typed, “Stroking one of my nipples. It’s so sensitive right now.”
I felt a surge of heat, primal and overwhelming. The image in my head was so vivid, so real, that it stole my breath. I closed my eyes, picturing her hand gliding over her skin, her fingers teasing the sensitive flesh. I groaned a low sound that escaped my throat.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” she continued her words a whispered invitation across the digital divide.
I swallowed hard, my voice thick with lust. “I’m… I’m imagining you. Your hand. Your skin. I’m touching myself too.”
“Is it me you’re thinking about or my breasts?”
“Both,” I replied without hesitation, “You and them. I imagine you both all the time.”
“Close your eyes and tell me what would you like to do to them.”
“I want to suck on those nipples. I want to rub them. I want to grab them to hard that you make a noise.”
After those words flew into the ether it was 5 minutes before she replied.
“Dont tell anyone, but, come into my room now. I am naked in bed for you xxx.” Her last text said.
My heart lurched. This was it. The point of no return. A line so far beyond crossed, it was obliterated. Trepidation warred with a feverish anticipation. This was wrong. In every conceivable way. And yet… I couldn’t resist.
I killed the music, the sudden silence amplifying the frantic beat of my heart. My hands trembled as I pulled on a pair of jeans, my fingers clumsy with adrenaline. Every nerve ending in my body was screaming a chaotic mix of guilt, excitement, and a raw, undeniable desire.
I glanced at my phone one last time, the message from Mom blazing on the screen. “Dont tell anyone, but, come into my room now. I am naked in bed for you xxx.” The “xxx” felt surreal, a bizarrely intimate touch in this descent into madness.
Taking a deep breath, I opened my bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. The house was silent, swallowed in the late-night stillness. I crept toward her room, each step an agonizing eternity. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of golden light spilling into the hall.
I hesitated, my hand hovering over the door. This was my last chance to turn back, to retreat into the safety of sanity. But the image of her body, of her hand caressing her nipple, was branded into my mind, an irresistible siren call.
Adrenaline pumped like a drum solo in my chest, a frantic beat against my ribs. This was it. Actually doing it. For weeks, we’d been sending those secret messages, those late-night texts, each one pushing us closer to this moment. Now, standing outside her bedroom door, my hand hovered over the knob, suddenly heavy, like it was made of lead. My breath hitched in my throat. Was I really about to do this? To cross that line? The line you just… didn’t cross with your mom. But the image of her, naked in her bed, just like she’d described in those daring texts, flashed in my mind, and my resolve hardened. No turning back now.
With a final surge of reckless bravery, or maybe it was just plain stupidity, I pushed the door inward. It swung open with a soft click, and I stepped inside. The room was hushed, bathed in a warm, dim light spilling from the bedside lamp. The air felt thick, charged, like right before a thunderstorm. Shadows stretched long and lazy across the walls, dancing with the gentle sway of the curtains. And there she was. In the bed. Exactly as promised. Naked.
My breath hitched again, snagging in my lungs. It was different seeing her like this in person, not just imagining it, not just reading about it. Her skin glowed in the soft light, smooth and pale. The sheets were pulled down to her waist, revealing her bare chest, the gentle curve of her stomach. She was propped up slightly on pillows, watching me with eyes that were dark and intense, like pools of melted chocolate. My heart slammed against my ribs, a wild animal trying to escape its cage. I just stood there, frozen in the doorway, my throat suddenly dry.
As I started to move closer, to step further into the room and towards the bed, she spoke, her voice a low, husky murmur that sent shivers down my spine. “Hold on, Danny.”
I stopped instantly, my feet rooted to the spot. She shifted slightly in the bed, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “If I’m going to be in bed naked,” she continued, her gaze holding mine, “then you have to be too. Seems only fair, right?” A small, almost playful smile touched the corners of her lips, but her eyes remained serious, challenging. “Get those boxers off.”
My pulse roared in my ears. This was getting real. Too real. My mind screamed warnings, flashing images of everything that could go wrong, everything that was wrong about this situation. But my body was already betraying me, responding to the sight of her, to her words, to the forbidden thrill of it all. My cock was hard, throbbing under my jeans, practically begging to be released. I hesitated, my throat tight, questions swirling in my head, unspoken fears bubbling up. This was insane. Utterly, completely insane. But… the sight of her lying there, naked and waiting, was a pull too strong to ignore, a forbidden fruit too tempting to resist.
My hands, suddenly clumsy and trembling, reached for the waistband of my jeans. I fumbled with the button, my fingers slick with sweat. Each movement felt magnified, slow and deliberate, under her watchful gaze. Finally, the jeans were undone, and I pushed them down, along with my boxers. They pooled around my ankles, forgotten. I stepped free of them, kicking them aside, my body exposed to the cool air of the room. And to her eyes.
I stood before her, completely naked, my arousal undeniable, jutting out proudly. The air crackled with unspoken tension. She looked me up and down, slowly, deliberately, her gaze lingering on my hardening cock. I felt a flush creep up my neck and spread across my face, a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. Her eyes met mine again, and a small, satisfied smile, a hint of mischief, played at the corners of her lips. “That’s better,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost breathy. She patted the bed beside her, the gesture both casual and intensely inviting. “Come here, Danny.”
My legs felt heavy, like they were moving through molasses, but I obeyed. I climbed into the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. As I settled beside her, the warmth of her skin radiated towards me. She reached out, her hand sliding across the sheets, warm and smooth, until it closed around my shaft. I gasped, a sharp intake of breath, the sudden contact jolting through me like an electric shock. My hips jerked involuntarily, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. “Mom…” I breathed the word in a strangled whisper, the sound thick with a mixture of shock, arousal, and a dawning realization of what was actually happening.
Her hand felt incredibly sure, confident, wrapped around my cock, her grip firm and knowing. She began to stroke me slowly, deliberately, her thumb swirling around the sensitive head, sending waves of pleasure radiating through my body. I bit back a moan, clenching my jaw, my eyes fluttering closed as the sensations intensified. This felt… unreal. Weird. Wrong. And yet… undeniably good. Having my mom’s hand on my dick, jerking me off… it was a boundary-shattering taboo, and the thrill of it was intoxicating. Lost in the rising tide of pleasure, my own hand moved instinctively, sliding under the blanket, searching for her, for the forbidden warmth between her legs.
Her breath hitched sharply, a small gasp escaping her lips as my fingers brushed against the soft curls of hair and found her warmth. Her legs parted instinctively, opening to my touch, an unspoken invitation. “Danny…” she breathed again, my name a mix of warning and encouragement, a breathy whisper laced with something else, something deeper, maybe desire. I felt her wetness, slick and inviting, coating my fingertips as I explored her folds. She was so soft, so responsive, her skin yielding under my touch, her hips shifting slightly, subtly pressing against my hand, as if urging me to go further. “You’re so wet, Mom,” I murmured, my voice thick with arousal, barely more than a whisper. “Is it because of me? Because of what we’re doing?”
She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink in the dim light. “Don’t… don’t flatter yourself,” she said, but the words lacked any real conviction. Her breathing quickened, her hand tightening around my shaft, her strokes becoming more urgent, more demanding. A soft moan escaped her lips, a low sound of pleasure that resonated deep inside me. “It’s just… it’s been a long time. That’s all.” Her excuse sounded weak, flimsy even to her own ears. We both knew it was more than that. It was the forbidden thrill, the danger, and the undeniable heat simmering between us.
My fingers delved deeper, parting the soft folds, finding her entrance. It pulsed with heat, wet and inviting, slick with her arousal. I couldn’t resist the primal urge, the overwhelming desire to push inside, just a little, to feel her more intimately. I pressed my fingertips against her opening, then gently pushed inward. She gasped, a sharp, involuntary sound, her back arching off the bed, her body tensing with a mix of shock and pleasure.
“Danny…” she breathed again, my name a drawn-out sigh, a mix of shock and pure, unadulterated pleasure in her voice. I started to move my fingers, slowly at first, exploring the slick, tight passage, then with increasing confidence, mimicking the rhythm of sex, feeling her inner walls grip my fingers. Her grip on my cock faltered, her hand falling limply away as she seemed to lose herself completely in the sensation of my touch. Her breathing became faster, shallower, punctuated by soft moans. I could feel her getting wetter, slicker, her inner muscles clenching and releasing around my fingers, a wild, untamed rhythm.
“Mom, you feel so good,” I murmured, my voice ragged with desire, thick with the intoxicating scent of our arousal. Her head was thrown back against the pillows, her face flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded and glazed with a hunger I’d never seen before, a primal need that mirrored my own. “Danny, I… I need…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence, her body arching again, her hips bucking slightly against my hand.
“Ah, fuckin’ hell, Danny, I need you inside me,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need, raw and demanding. “Please, I can’t wait any longer.” The words hung in the air, explicit and forbidden, shattering the last vestiges of denial, of hesitation.
I didn’t need to be told twice. My own need was a raging fire in my loins, demanding release, demanding her. I withdrew my fingers, the slickness of her juices coating my skin, and positioned myself between her legs. She was open to me now, vulnerable and exposed, her desire radiating from her in waves. Her hands gripped my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin, not in pain, but in a desperate grip as she guided me towards her entrance. I felt the heat of her, the slickness, the pulsing life of her, and with a single, forceful thrust, driven by pure instinct, I was inside her.
“Uummm baby,” I groaned, my voice thick with pleasure, the feeling of being inside her overwhelming. I grabbed her legs, lifting them, and then, in a move fueled by instinct and desire, swung each leg over each shoulder, opening her up wider, and presenting her to me completely. I slowly started to pump my cock in and out of her puffy pussy, savouring the sensation, the deep, intimate connection.
“Oh god, Danny!” she cried out, her head thrown back against the pillow, her neck arched, exposing the delicate curve of her throat. “You’re so deep. So big.” Her words gasped out between moans, spurred me on, fueling my desire, making my cock feel even harder, even thicker inside her.
I began to move faster, deepening my thrusts, my hips slapping against hers with increasing urgency, creating a rhythm that was both primal and intoxicating. The sound of our bodies meeting filled the room, a raw, lewd symphony of flesh on flesh, moans and gasps and the soft thud of skin hitting skin. I could feel every inch of her, the tight, burning heat of her pussy gripping me like a velvet vice, milking me with each thrust.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted, her hips rising to meet my thrusts, her body bucking beneath me, urging me on. “Fuck me, Danny. Harder!” Her explicit demand ignited a fire in my blood, pushing me over the edge into pure, raw passion.
I obliged, pounding into her with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The bed creaked and groaned beneath us, a rhythmic soundtrack to our frantic movements. The headboard slammed against the wall with each deep thrust, a percussive beat echoing in the dimly lit room.
Her breasts bounced wildly with each thrust, the sight of them jiggling, unrestrained and full, hypnotizing me. I leaned down, my mouth suddenly craving her, and captured one of her nipples in my mouth, sucking hard, pulling her flesh between my lips. She cried out, a sharp, involuntary moan, her fingers tangling in my hair, holding me tight against her chest, her body arching further into mine.
“Danny, oh god, Danny!” she moaned, her voice high and breathless, on the edge of something. “Your mouth… your cock… it’s too much!” But I didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. I was lost in the sensation, the taste of her skin, the tightness of her pussy, the way she writhed and moaned beneath me, every sound and movement fueling my own escalating pleasure. I switched to her other breast, giving it the same treatment, my teeth grazing her nipple, eliciting another sharp gasp from her.
“Fuck, Mom, you taste so good,” I growled against her skin, my words thick with desire. “I could suck on these tits all day.” Her skin was salty and sweet, the taste of her arousal intoxicating.
“Yes, yes, suck them! Ahhh!” she urged, her hips bucking wildly, her body convulsing beneath me as my cock continued to hammer into her wet, squelchy hole, each thrust driving her closer and closer to the edge.
“Danny, baby, you’re Ahhh your… your cock… Ummm, unghh,” she screamed out in pleasure, her voice cracking, her body shaking violently. “Keep going, don’t stop! Oh god, yes, right there!” I felt her pussy tightening around my shaft, her inner muscles clenching and releasing, her legs shaking uncontrollably as her orgasm approached, a wave of intense pleasure radiating from her body. “Mom, I’m gonna cum soon! I still can’t believe you are letting me do this to you.” The words tumbled out, a mixture of disbelief and pure, unadulterated lust.
“No, don’t cum yet baby, mmm… try last a bit longer, ahhh,” she gasped, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but her hips still moving, still demanding more. “I am letting you do it. Because it’s just sex sweetheart.” Her words were panting, strained, watching between my legs as my meaty dick continued to pummel her cunt, her eyes glazed with a wild mixture of pleasure and something else, something unreadable, something dangerous.
“Just sex?” I managed to croak out, my voice strained with effort and pure, unadulterated lust. Her words were like a strange mix of hot and cold, a permission slip wrapped in ice. My mind was reeling, trying to process what was happening, but my body was overriding everything else. It wanted more. It needed more.
“Ughhh, yes, just sex,” she repeated, her voice still panting, but with a new edge, a hint of maybe… sadness? I couldn’t tell for sure, lost in the throes of passion. But her hips were still bucking, grinding against me, a clear message that ‘just sex’ or not, she was far from finished.
I kept pounding, each thrust taking me deeper, feeling the incredible tightness of her pussy, the wetness slicking around my shaft. The sounds in the room were deafening – her sharp gasps, my grunts, the wet squelch of our bodies meshing together, the rhythmic slap of my balls against her thighs. It was a symphony of pure, raw desire.
“Danny… oh god, Danny,” she choked out, her nails digging into my shoulders. I could feel her body tensing, arching even higher, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “I’m… I’m gonna…”
I knew she was close. I could feel it in the way her pussy was clenching around me, in the vibrations shaking her body, in the wildness in her eyes, now open and staring up at the ceiling, unfocused, lost in the intensity.
“Come on, Mom,” I growled, my own climax building, a pressure cooker about to explode. “Let it go. Come for me.” I pumped harder, faster, my hips slamming into hers with relentless force, the bedsprings protesting with loud creaks.
And then it happened.
Her body seized, arching up off the bed in a full-body spasm. “Ahhhhhh!” she screamed, a long, drawn-out cry of pure, ecstatic release. I felt her muscles clench around my cock, squeezing me in a vise-like grip as wave after wave of orgasm ripped through her. Her legs started to shake uncontrollably, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and I felt a wetness explode around my shaft, a warm gush soaking my skin. She was squirting, right then and there, coating my cock and her own thighs with her slick pleasure.
The sight and the sensation pushed me over the edge. My own orgasm detonated, a supernova of pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Uunngghhh!” I roared my back arching, every muscle in my body tensing and then releasing in an explosive wave. Thick, hot spunk erupted from the tip of my cock, spurting deep into her, filling her with my seed, and painting the inside of her cunt white with my cum. It kept coming, in heavy, pulsing spurts, each one sending shivers of pleasure through me as I pounded into her, riding out the last waves of my orgasm.
We were both screaming, moaning, gasping, a chaotic symphony of pure, raw sensation. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it started to subside. The earth-shattering tremors began to fade, replaced by a blissful, exhausted quiet.
My body went limp, collapsing on top of her, my weight supported by my arms. My chest heaved, my breath coming in ragged pants. I could feel her breath hot on my neck, her body still trembling slightly beneath me. The air in the room was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and something else… something primal and untamed.
For a long moment, we just lay there, tangled together, chests heaving, hearts pounding, the silence punctuated only by our ragged breaths and the occasional creak of the bed cooling down. The world outside seemed to have ceased to exist. There was only us, locked in the aftermath of something… something huge.
Slowly, cautiously, I lifted myself up, rolling onto my side beside her. I looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly parted, still wet with saliva. Strands of hair were plastered to her forehead with sweat. She looked… spent. Beautifully, utterly spent.
A wave of… something washed over me. It wasn’t just lust anymore. It was something deeper, more complex. A mix of awe, confusion, maybe even a little bit of fear. What had we just done?
I reached out a hand, hesitantly, and gently brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. Her eyelids flickered open, slowly, groggily. Her eyes, when they met mine, were still glazed, pupils dilated, but there was a flicker of something else in them too. Something I couldn’t quite decipher. Perhaps… regret? Or maybe just… shock.
“Wow,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, barely audible. “Just… wow.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Yeah,” I managed to say, my voice still thick with the aftermath of orgasm. “Wow.”
Silence descended again, heavier this time, loaded with unspoken questions, with the weight of what had just transpired. The ‘just sex’ seemed to hang in the air, a hollow, inadequate phrase to describe the earth-shattering experience we’d just shared.
I looked down at our bodies, still intertwined, slick with sweat and… other fluids. The sheets were a mess, crumpled and stained, a testament to our frantic passion. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex. It was undeniable, visceral, real.
“Mom,” I started, the word feeling strange and unfamiliar on my tongue now, after what we had just done. “Are you…” I trailed off, unsure how to even finish the question. Are you okay? Are you regretting this? Are we in deep trouble? All of these questions swirled around in my head, unspoken.
She sighed a long, drawn-out sound that seemed to release a lot of tension. She turned her head, finally meeting my gaze directly. Her eyes were clearer now, the haze of orgasm fading, replaced by a sharpness that was both familiar and unsettling.
“Danny,” she said, her voice firmer now, but still soft. “We need to talk.”
My heart sank. This was it. The moment of reckoning. The ‘just sex’ line was clearly not going to cut it anymore. We had crossed a line, a huge line, and now we had to deal with the consequences. And I had no idea what those consequences would be. Or if I was ready to face them.
“I want to make this a regular thing. Would you like that, but we can’t tell anything.” She said with her hand cupping my cheek.
“I… I don’t know, Mom,” I said, my voice hesitant, unsure.”Is it really a good idea? I mean, we’re crossing a huge line here. If anyone found out…”I let the sentence trail off, the implications hanging heavy in the air.
She sighed, her hand falling from my cheek to rest on my chest. “I know,” she said softly. “Believe me, I know. But… can you honestly say you don’t want this? That you don’t want me?”
“I want to do this again that is for sure, just the thought of me having sex with you is a turn on,” I said as my heart rate turned back to normal.
She looked into my eyes, her gaze intense and searching. “Then let’s keep it our secret,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “Just between us. No one else needs to know.” Her hand slid down my chest, over my abs, until it reached my still semi-hard cock. She wrapped her fingers around it, giving it a gentle squeeze.” And we can do this as often as we want,” she added, stroking me slowly. “Whenever you want me, I’ll be here.”
I groaned at her touch, my hips involuntarily bucking into her hand. The thought of having her whenever I wanted was incredibly tempting. “Okay,” I breathed, my resolve weakening. “Let’s keep it a secret. Just you and me.”
She smiled a slow, seductive curve of her lips. “Good boy,” she purred, leaning in to kiss me deeply.
“Wait you are kissing me, I thought this was just sex,” I said shocked, which I didn’t mind. I was dying to kiss her when she was under me taking my cock.
She pulled back from the kiss, her eyes searching mine. “I…I don’t know,” she admitted, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. “I thought I could keep this strictly physical, but… kissing you feels right. It feels good.”
I leaned in and softly kissed her lips and she kissed back as we deeply started to kiss.
Our lips moved together in a slow, sensual dance, the kiss deepening with each passing moment. Her hand continued to stroke my hardening cock, her touch gentle yet firm, coaxing it back to its full, throbbing length. I moaned into her mouth, my tongue tangling with hers, tasting her, savouring the sweetness of her lips. She broke the kiss, her breath coming in short pants.”Danny,” she gasped, her eyes dark with desire. “I need you again. Now.”
Without waiting for a response, she pushed me onto my back and climbed on top of me, straddling my hips. She reached between us, grasping my cock and positioning it at her entrance. With a slow, deliberate movement, she sank down onto me, enveloping my shaft in her wet, velvety heat. “Oh fuck,” I groaned, my hands gripping her hips as she began to ride me.
It was a long night, we fucked all night.