The cheap, heart-shaped chocolates felt kinda pathetic clutched in my hand as I walked into the living room. Valentine’s Day. Usually a night of cringe dates and fake smiles, right? But tonight… tonight felt thick with something else. Mom, Sarah, was glued to the couch, the TV light painting her face. And damn, did she look wrecked.
Her red top? Low-cut was an understatement. It barely contained her, the curve of her breasts practically begging for attention, spilling right out. And that skirt. Black, leather-look, so short it was basically a belt. Her legs went on forever. She was dressed for a night out, a hot one by the looks of it. But all she had was a half-empty wine bottle and some rom-com flickering away. Was she even watching it?
“Mom, you okay? You look like someone just ran over your cat,” I said, trying for a chill vibe. But honestly, seeing her like this? It was doing weird things to my head. I’d always known Mom was hot, like, objectively hot. But tonight? It was different. Electric.
Her eyes, usually sparkling and full of life, were all red and puffy. “He bailed, Mike. Family emergency, he said. On Valentine’s Day. Seriously? Can you believe that crap?” Her voice cracked like she was about to lose it. She reached for the wine, her hand a little shaky.
My stomach twisted. I hated seeing her like this. “That’s total bullshit, Mom. Seriously. What a dick.” I knew she’d been hyped for this date. She hadn’t been out with anyone in ages. Was it always like this for her?
“Yeah, well,” she sighed, taking a massive gulp of wine. “Story of my life, right? I should be used to it by now.”
Guilt punched me in the gut. I had a date too, some girl from college. But all of a sudden, the thought of going out, of trying to score with her? It felt hollow. Wrong, even. Mom was here, hurting. Was I really gonna ditch her for some hookup?
“Hey, listen,” I said, sitting down beside her, the couch dipping under my weight. “Screw my plans. I’m staying right here with you. Movie marathon, pizza, whatever you want. My treat.”
She snapped her head up, surprise widening her eyes. “No, Mike, don’t be stupid. Go have your night. I’ll be fine. Really.”
“Mom, I wanna. Besides, my date would probably just end with me trying to get some, and honestly? I’m not in the headspace for that tonight.” Shit, did that sound… wrong? Too honest?
She let out a weak chuckle, a tiny spark of amusement flickering back into her eyes. “Well, aren’t you a charmer? But seriously, I don’t want you missing out on anything because of me. I’m just being pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic, Mom. You’re… you’re hot as hell, and you deserve way better than some loser who can’t even make it to Valentine’s Day. And… well, you know you’re not ugly. You give me boners sometimes, you know?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. My face flamed red. Brace yourself, Mike.
“MIKE!” She exclaimed, faking shock, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “That’s… inappropriate. But… thanks, I guess?”
The air in the room went thick. Charged. I was definitely treading on thin ice, but I couldn’t help it. Seeing her like this, vulnerable and… yeah, ridiculously sexy? It was igniting something in me. A feeling I’d shoved down for years, buried deep. Forbidden, but… there.
“So, movie night?” I asked, trying to steer us back from the edge. Was she as aware of this tension as I was?
She nodded, grabbing the remote. “Movie night. And more wine.”
I refilled both our glasses, the red wine sloshing a little as I handed her hers. We settled on some cheesy rom-com, but neither of us was actually watching. The silence was heavy, broken only by fake movie dialogue and the clinking of glasses. Were we even pretending anymore?
As the movie droned on, we kept drinking. The wine was doing its thing, making everything blurry and warm. Mom looked incredible in the dim light, all soft edges and shadows. She had to know how hot she was, right? That outfit… it was deliberate. Was it?
“Can’t… believe,” she slurred, words a little fuzzy, “you… gave up your… date… for your old… mom.” She giggled a low, husky sound. “You… should be… out… partying.”
“Nah,” I said, downing my wine and pouring another. “Trust me, this is way better.” Was it the wine talking, or was it actually true?
She laughed again, that throaty sound that vibrated right through me. Without thinking, I reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin was soft, and warm under my fingers. Her eyes met mine, and the air in the room just… stopped. Everything else faded out – the movie, the music, everything. It was just us. And this insane tension. I was so ready to lose it, right here, right now. Was she?
“Mike,” she whispered, her voice rough, like she’d been crying, or maybe… something else. “You… shouldn’t…”
My throat tightened. My heart was hammering against my ribs. I knew I shouldn’t. She was my mom. But the desire, the pull, it was overwhelming. Had it always been there, simmering under the surface?
“Shouldn’t what, Mom?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Daring her? Daring myself?
She didn’t answer, her eyes locked on mine, searching, questioning. And then, slowly, so slowly, she leaned in. Holy shit. Was this really happening?
Her lips brushed mine, a feather-light touch that sent a shockwave through my whole body. I hesitated for a split second, my brain screaming warnings, but then I just… went for it. Closed the gap, and deepened the kiss. Her lips were soft, so soft, and sweet, like wine and something else… something addictive.
The kiss got deeper, messier. My hands found her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the curve of her hips, the heat of her skin through that tiny skirt. She moaned softly into my mouth, and I felt her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. The world just melted away, leaving only us, tangled together in this insane, forbidden kiss.
It was raw, passionate, desperate. Like a dam breaking, all the tension, all the unspoken… everything, just crashing down. And in that moment? It felt… right. Completely, utterly wrong, but… right. Did that even make sense?
I broke away, gasping for air. “Mom,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “I…”
She reached up, and put a finger to my lips, silencing me. “Don’t say anything, Mike,” she said, her eyes dark, a mix of desire and maybe… fear. “Just… don’t.”
And then, she kissed me again. Harder this time. Like she was making a decision, crossing a line. And I was right there with her, ready to dive in, no looking back.
“I so wanna take you to bed… I wanna fuck you so bad,” I breathed against her lips, feeling my cock throb in my jeans. What was going to happen now? Was this really happening?
The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Her eyes widened a flicker of something – maybe shock, maybe excitement – crossing her face. She pulled back slightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Mike,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “We… we can’t. This is… wrong. So wrong.”
But her body told a different story. Her hands were still tangled in my hair, her breathing still heavy, her eyes still locked on mine with an intensity that belied her words.
“I know,” I said, my voice hoarse, barely a whisper. “But… I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”
My hand moved from her waist, tracing the curve of her leg, under the hem of that ridiculously short skirt. Her thigh was warm, sand mooth, and the touch sent another jolt of electricity through me.
She gasped, a small sound barely audible above the pounding of my heart. She swayed slightly, her eyes half-closed, and I knew, at that moment, that she was teetering on the edge. One word, one touch, could send her tumbling over.
“We’ll regret this,” she said, her voice a strained whisper. “We’ll hate ourselves in the morning.”
“Maybe,” I conceded, my fingers continuing their slow, agonizing ascent up her thigh. “But right now… right now, I don’t care.”
Reaching all the way up and touching her panties, she closed her eyes.
I leaned in, brushing my lips against her ear. “Please, Mom,” I whispered. “Just… let me.”
Silence. The only sound was our ragged breathing, the hum of the TV, a distant siren wailing in the night. It felt like an eternity, that agonizing moment of waiting.
And then, finally, she nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement of her head. The signal was all I needed.
My lips crashed back onto hers, harder this time, more demanding. My hands moved with a frantic urgency, pulling at the hem of her skirt, tugging it higher. She met my urgency with her own, her fingers clawing at my shirt, ripping at the buttons.
Clothes were shed in a frenzy of desperate need. Her breasts, finally freed from that flimsy top, were even more beautiful than I had imagined, full and ripe. I cupped them in my hands, my thumbs teasing her nipples until they hardened into tight little peaks. She moaned a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine.
She pushed me back onto the couch and then she was on top of me, straddling me, her bare skin pressed against mine. The heat between us was almost unbearable, a burning inferno that threatened to consume us both.
She kissed me again, her tongue plunging into my mouth, and I lost myself in the sensation, in the intoxicating scent of her skin, in the feel of her body against mine.
My hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of her, memorizing every curve, every hollow. I found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it, letting it fall to the floor.
She pulled back for a moment, her eyes searching mine. “Are you sure?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “More sure than I’ve ever been of anything in my life,” I said, my voice thick with desire.
And then, I flipped her over, pinning her beneath me on the couch. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
“Brace yourself, Mom,” I said, a wicked grin spreading across my face. “This is gonna be a wild ride.”
I pushed her skirt up and slid her sexy red panties to the side as I got my cock out.
I positioned myself at her entrance, feeling the heat radiating from her body. I looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all I saw was desire, raw and unfiltered.
“Mike,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please.”
That was all I needed. I thrust into her, feeling her tightness envelope me. She gasped, her nails digging into my back as I started to move. It was intense, more than anything I had ever experienced before. Every thrust was met with a moan, her body moving in rhythm with mine.
The world around us faded away, leaving only the sound of our heavy breathing and the slapping of skin against skin. It was primal, raw, and uninhibited. We were two bodies, lost in the throes of passion, oblivious to everything else.
I could feel myself getting closer, my movements becoming more frantic. She clung to me, her legs wrapped around my waist as she urged me on.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice hoarse with desire. “Don’t you dare stop?”
“Never,” I growled back, thrusting deeper, feeling her tighten around me. “God, Mom,” I panted, “You’re so fucking tight.” Her inner walls gripped me like a velvet vice, hot and slick. I could feel her wetness coating my shaft with every stroke.
I pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her. Her head was thrown back, her neck arched, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes were half-closed, pupils dilated, focused on something unseen, something internal, something purely sensation. Her lips were parted, slightly swollen from our kisses, and a soft moan escaped her throat as I plunged into her again.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” I whispered, my voice thick with lust, my rhythm building, faster now, harder. I braced my hands on either side of her head, supporting my weight as I drove into her again and again. Each thrust was a collision of forbidden desires, a shattering of boundaries we’d both known existed, yet now were gleefully obliterating.
“Mmm… yes,” she managed, her voice breathy and strained. “So… good…” Her hands clutched at my back, nails digging into my skin, but it only fueled me, and egged me on. I loved the feeling of her clutching me, needing me, even in this insane, taboo situation.
I slowed down for a moment, drawing out each thrust, teasing her, building the pressure. “Tell me, Mom,” I breathed against her ear, licking the sensitive lobe, “Tell me how good it feels.”
She shuddered, bucking beneath me. “Oh, Mike… it’s… incredible,” she gasped. “You feel… so good inside me. So… big.”
Big? Was she talking about my… cock? A surge of ego mixed with the already overwhelming lust. “You like it big, Mom?” I teased, thrusting deeply again, feeling her gasp wrap around me.
“Yes!” she cried out, louder this time, her hips arching to meet my every move. “God, yes! Fill me up, Mike. Fill me up.”
Fill her up. The words resonated deep within me, igniting a firestorm of possessiveness and primal desire. I wanted to fill her, completely, utterly, leave no space unfilled. I picked up the pace again, driving into her with renewed vigour, my breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.
I shifted my grip, moving one hand down to cup her mound, feeling the soft mound of her shaved pussy beneath my palm. Smooth. So smooth. I rubbed my thumb over her clit, feeling it pebble and harden.
“You’re so wet, Mom,” I murmured, my voice husky, my lips brushing against hers again. “So fucking wet for me.” I loved the sound of “Mom” on my lips in this context, dripping with lust and transgression. It was wrong, so wrong, but the wrongness was part of the thrill, part of the insane, intoxicating heat that enveloped us.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded again, her body writhing beneath me, her legs tightening around my waist. “Please, Mike… I’m… I’m close.”
Close? So was I. The pressure was building, coiling tight within me, about to explode. I increased the intensity, my thrusts becoming shorter, and sharper, focusing on her G-spot, feeling her tighten even more around me.
“Look at me, Mom,” I commanded, my voice thick with urgency. She opened her eyes, hazy with passion, pupils blown wide, fixed on mine. “Look at me when you come.”
And then, she did. Her body arched violently, back bowing off the couch, a strangled cry escaping her lips. Her muscles clenched around me, spasming, milking me with wave after wave of intense pleasure. I felt my own release building, the pressure finally breaking, and I erupted inside her, letting out a guttural groan as my orgasm ripped through me. I pumped gallons of hot spunk inside her mature pussy.
For a long, shuddering moment, we were locked together, gasping, our bodies slick with sweat. The only sound was our ragged breathing and the faint hum of the television still playing in the background, some mindless sitcom now utterly irrelevant. I stayed buried deep inside her, not wanting to break the connection, the intensity still humming between us.
Slowly, my breath evened out. I became aware of her weight on me, a pleasant heaviness. I lifted my head and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, lashes dark against her flushed cheeks. Her lips were swollen and parted, still slightly wet from our kisses. Even now, lying beneath me, completely spent, she was breathtakingly beautiful.
A thought flickered through my mind, unbidden and unexpected: her pussy is shaved. It was a stark detail, in contrast to the wild abandon of what just happened. It wasn’t something I had consciously registered in the heat of the moment, but now, thinking back to the feel of her skin against mine, so smooth, so bare… it added another layer of surreality to this whole insane encounter. It was… modern. Deliberate. And in a twisted way, intensely arousing. It was a detail that felt incredibly intimate, a choice she made about her own body, revealed to me in this most forbidden of moments.
She opened her eyes, her gaze unfocused for a second before locking onto mine. Emotions flickered across her face – confusion, lingering desire, a dawning horror, maybe. She looked… lost.
“Oh god,” she whispered, her voice still hoarse and trembling, barely audible. She shifted slightly beneath me, and I could feel the slow, languid drain of my seed still pulsing inside her. The sensation was intensely intimate and incredibly wrong.
“Mom…” I started, unsure of what to say. The words felt inadequate, clumsy.
She put a hand on my chest, her fingers splayed against my skin, warm and trembling. “Don’t,” she said again, softly this time. “Don’t talk. Just… just hold me for a minute.”
I didn’t argue. I lowered my head and kissed her forehead, gently. Her skin was soft, fragrant with the scent of sex and something else, something uniquely her. We lay there in silence, the weight of what we had done settling around us like a heavy blanket.
After a while, she stirred again. This time, she pushed gently against my chest. “Mike,” she said, her voice a little stronger now, but still laced with an undercurrent of something fragile. “You need to… you need to get off me.”
Reluctantly, I rolled to the side, pulling out of her slowly. The slight suction as I withdrew was another jolt to my system, a reminder of the physical intimacy we had just shared. I moved away slightly, giving her space, but staying close, my body still humming with the aftershocks of orgasm.
She sat up slowly, pulling the remains of her skirt down to cover herself. Her movements were stiff, almost mechanical. She avoided my eyes, her gaze fixed on some distant point across the room.
“That was…” she began, then stopped, unable to find the right words. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, her fingers trembling slightly.
“Incredible,” I finished for her, the word escaping my lips before I could stop it. It was the truth, raw and undeniable. And in the silence that followed, it hung in the air, heavy and charged.
She finally looked at me, her eyes wide and questioning. “Mike, what… what just happened?”
“I think,” I said, my voice low, “I think we just fucked.” Again, the bluntness of the word felt jarring, and inappropriate, yet somehow also necessary. It was the unvarnished truth of what we had done.
Her breath hitched. A flicker of something – anger? Hurt? – flashed across her face. “Don’t be crude,” she snapped, her voice sharper than it had been.
“Mom,” I said softly, reaching out a hand towards her, then hesitating. “I’m just… I’m trying to be honest. That’s what it was. And it was… amazing.”
She flinched at the word ‘amazing’. “Don’t,” she said again, her voice cracking. “Don’t say that. It wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to be amazing. It was… it was a mistake.”
“Was it?” I challenged, leaning closer to her. “Because it didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt… inevitable. Like we were heading towards this from the moment we first…” I trailed off, unable to articulate the unspoken feelings that had been simmering between us, maybe for years.
She shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “It was a mistake, Mike. A terrible, awful mistake. We can never… we can never do this again.”
“But… why not?” The question was out before I could censor it. It was the forbidden question, the one that shouldn’t be asked, but needed to be.
She looked at me then, really looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and something else, something I recognized, something that mirrored the desire I felt burning within me. “Because I’m your mother, Mike! Don’t you understand? This is… this is wrong. So, so wrong.”
“I know,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “But Mom… it felt so fucking good.” I reached out and took her hand, her fingers cold despite the heat of her body. “Your pussy,” I murmured, almost unconsciously, “it felt so tight, so… incredible. Like you were made for me.”
Her eyes widened again, this time with shock, a blush rising on her cheeks. She tried to pull her hand away, but I held on tight.
“Don’t,” I pleaded, my voice raw with need. “Don’t push me away. Not now. Not after… after this.”
She looked down at our joined hands, her gaze tracing the lines of my palm, the length of my fingers intertwined with hers. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken desires and forbidden truths. And in that silence, I sensed a crack in her resolve, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. The “wrongness” was still there, palpable, heavy. But underneath it, I could feel something else stirring, something dangerous, something tempting. Something that whispered that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. Maybe, it was just the beginning.