Me: (Oh god, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Jim’s been working late all week, and I just want to tease him a little.) snaps a quick pic in the bedroom mirror, topless, my full breasts spilling out, nipples hard from the cool air
Text to “Jim”: “Hey babe, miss you tonight… what do you think? 😘🍒” sends pic
Andy: (A few minutes later) “Uh… Mom?? Did you mean to send this to me? 😳”
Me: (My heart drops. Oh fuck, no no no.) “ANDY?! Oh my god, baby, NO, that was for your dad! Delete that RIGHT NOW! 😱 I’m so sorry!!”
Andy: “Too late, already saw it😂. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Dad. You look… uh, good tho. Like, really good. 😏”
Me: (My face is burning. What the hell is he saying?) “Andy, stop it! This is so embarrassing. Just delete it, please. I’m begging you! 🙏”
Andy: “Chill, Mom, it’s not a big deal. Kinda hot tho. Dad’s a lucky guy. 😉 You still mad at me?”
Me: (Hot? Did he just—oh god, my head’s spinning.) “This isn’t funny, Andy! I’m mortified. You’re not supposed to see me like that. Delete it now or I’m grounding you for life. 😡”
Andy: “Okay, okay, it’s gone. Promise. But… damn, Mom, didn’t know you were hiding all that under those sweaters. 🔥 How’d Dad react when he saw it?”
Me: (He’s pushing it. Why isn’t he dropping this?) “I didn’t send it to him yet, genius, because I’m too busy freaking out over here! And watch your mouth, mister. I’m still your mom. 😤”
Andy: “Fair. Are you gonna send it to him now? Bet he’d lose his mind. You’re kinda killing it for a mom. 😎”
Me: (Killing it? Oh, this kid’s gonna get it.) “Flattery’s not getting you out of this, Andy. I’m still horrified. And yeah, I might… once my hands stop shaking. 😣 You sure you deleted it?”
Andy: “Yup, gone. Scout’s honour. But if you’re still shaky, I could… stick around and help you calm down. 😏 Kidding! Unless…”
Me: (My stomach flips. He’s joking, right?) “Andy, behave yourself! You’re terrible. 😂 I’m fine, just… ugh, I need a glass of wine after this. Don’t you dare bring this up ever again?”
Me: “You’re awful, you know that? 😂 I’m pouring wine and trying to forget this ever happened. You better keep your promise, Andy. No funny business.”
I hit send, then take a sip of the wine, letting the sharp tang of it settle on my tongue. My robe’s slipped open a little, exposing the curve of my heavy breasts, still tingling from the cool air earlier. I tug it closed, but my mind’s racing. He saw me. My own son saw me like that—and called me hot. It’s wrong, it’s mortifying, but there’s a tiny, reckless part of me that’s… curious.
Andy: “Awful’s my middle name, Mom. 😈 Wine sounds good tho. Bet it’s not as strong as that pic was. You holding up okay over there? Need me to grab you a refill? 😉”
I choke on my sip, coughing as I set the glass down. He’s downstairs, probably sprawled on the couch in those ratty sweatpants he lives in, smirking at his phone. The thought of him coming up here makes my stomach twist—half in panic, half in something hotter. I shake my head, trying to shove it down.
Me: “Don’t you dare come up here, Andy! 😂 I’m fine with my wine. You stay put and behave. Last warning. What are you even doing right now?”
I lean back against the headboard, the robe slipping again. I don’t fix it this time. My nipples harden against the soft fabric, and I bite my lip, waiting for his reply. The house is quiet, just the faint hum of the TV downstairs. Too quiet, maybe.
Andy: “Just chilling on the couch, missing the good old days when you’d tuck me in. 😂 Nah, I’m good. You sure you don’t need company? You sound kinda… worked up. 😏”
Worked up? Oh, he’s pushing it now. My thighs press together instinctively, a dull ache starting low in my belly. I shouldn’t respond. I should put the phone down, finish my wine, and go to bed. But my fingers move anyway.
Me: “Worked up? You’re the one who started this mess, mister! 😡 I’m just trying to relax. And no, I don’t need company—especially not from my smartass son. What’s gotten into you tonight? 🍷”
I hit send, then take a bigger gulp of wine. My head’s buzzing, and it’s not just the alcohol. His words are teasing, and playful, but there’s an edge to them that’s making my skin prickle. I glance at the bedroom door, half-expecting to hear his footsteps on the stairs. Part of me hopes he stays put. Part of me doesn’t.
I sit there, the wine glass trembling slightly in my hand, the faint buzz of it mixing with the heat creeping up my neck. My robe’s still loose, the soft fabric brushing against my swollen nipples, and I can’t stop thinking about Andy’s last text. “Worked up.” That little shit. He’s got no business stirring me up like this, but here I am, thighs pressed tight, pulse thudding low. The phone sits on the bed, taunting me. I should leave it alone. I don’t.
Me: “Oh, you think you’re clever, huh? 😏 I’m plenty relaxed, thank you very much. Just sipping my wine and wondering when you turned into such a little perv. What’s next, you gonna ask for another pic? 😂🍷”
I hit send before I can overthink it, a nervous laugh slipping out as I take another sip. The room feels too warm now, the air thick against my bare skin. I shift on the bed, the ache between my legs growing sharper. He’s downstairs, probably grinning like an idiot, and I’m up here, half-naked and flustered. What the hell am I doing?
Andy: “Perv? Ouch, Mom, that stings. 😂 I’m just saying what I see. And Nah, I’m not that dumb… but if you’re offering, I wouldn’t say no. 😈 Kidding! Unless you’re not. How’s that wine treating you?”
His words hit like a spark, and I choke on my sip, coughing as heat floods my face—and lower. Offering? He’s joking, he’s gotta be, but my mind’s already spinning, picturing his lanky frame sprawled out, those sweatpants barely hiding anything. I shake my head hard, but my fingers are already moving.
Me: “You’re pushing your luck, Andy! 😡 Wine’s fine, thanks—no thanks to you. And don’t even joke about that. I’m your mom, not some… ugh, never mind. You’re awful. 😳🍷”
I toss the phone down, heart pounding, and tug the robe tighter. My pussy’s starting to throb with a slow, needy pulse. I can hear the faint creak of the couch downstairs, and I wonder if he’s shifting around, maybe adjusting himself. Oh god, I need to stop.
Andy: “Awful’s my specialty. 😏 Relax, Mom, I’m just messing with you. But damn, you’re fun when you’re flustered. Wine got you all warm yet? Bet you’re blushing up there. 🔥”
He’s right—I’m blushing, and more. My hand slips to my thigh, brushing the edge of the robe, and I catch my breath. The room’s spinning a little, the wine loosening me up, and his words are sinking in deeper than they should. Fun when I’m flustered? Little bastard’s playing with fire.
Me: “Yeah, I’m warm, no thanks to your smart mouth. 😤 And stop picturing me blushing—you’re in enough trouble. What are you even doing down there? Just sitting there being a menace? 😏🍷”
I hit send, then let my hand linger on my thigh, fingers twitching. My pussy’s wet now, I can feel it—dripping, slick against my inner thighs—and I bite my lip hard. This is so wrong. But the phone buzzes again, and I grab it like it’s a lifeline.
Andy: “Menace is my job title. 😈 Just kicking back, thinking about how you’re probably squirming up there. Wine’s gotta be hitting good by now. Are you still mad, or are you starting to like this game? 😉”
Squirming. Fuck, he’s got me pegged. My fingers slip higher, brushing the edge of my mound, and I gasp softly, the sound loud in the quiet room. I shouldn’t answer. I should put the phone down, lock the door, and forget this ever happened. But my pussy’s throbbing, my breasts aching, and the wine’s whispering all the wrong things in my ear.
Me: “You’re too cocky for your own good, Andy. 😏 Yeah, the wine’s hitting, and yeah, I’m squirming—happy now? That doesn’t mean I like your stupid game. You’re still grounded forever. 😂🔥”
I send it, then let my head tip back, a low moan slipping out as my fingers graze my slick slit. I’m dripping wet, my clit swollen and sensitive, and I can’t stop picturing him reading that, his grin fading into something hungrier. The house is still quiet, but I swear I hear the couch creak again. He’s not coming up here. He wouldn’t. Would he?
’m sprawled on the bed, the wine glass now empty beside me, my fingers still trembling from that last text. My robe’s fallen open completely, the cool air kissing my bare skin, making my nipples tighten even more. My pussy’s a mess—hot, wet, and aching—and I can’t stop the little shivers running through me. Andy’s downstairs, probably still smirking, and I’m up here losing my damn mind. The phone buzzes again, and my breath catches.
Andy: “Grounded forever? Harsh, Mom. 😂 But damn, you’re squirming? That’s hot. Wine’s got you all loose now, huh? Bet you’re a mess up there.😈 What’s it feel like?”
His words hit me like a punch, and I groan softly, my hand sliding back to my thigh. A mess? He has no idea. My fingers brush my swollen mound, slick with need, and I bite my lip to keep quiet. I shouldn’t answer. I should stop this right now. But the heat’s pooling low, and my head’s fuzzy with wine and want.
Me: “You’re such a little shit, Andy. 😏 Yeah, I’m a mess—thanks to you. Feels like I’m burning up, if you must know. Happy now? You’re still in deep trouble. 🔥🍷”
I hit send, then let my fingers slip lower, teasing my dripping slit. A soft whimper escapes me as I graze my clit, throbbing and sensitive. The room’s spinning, the silence downstairs pressing in, and I can’t help wondering what he’s doing—lounging there, maybe getting hard thinking about me. Oh god, this is so fucked up.
Andy: “Burning up? Shit, Mom, that’s… fuck. 😳 I’m happy, yeah. Trouble’s worth it for that. What’s got you so hot? Wine or me? Be honest. 😏🔥”
His text makes my pussy clench, a fresh wave of wetness soaking my fingers. I slide them inside, slow and deep, gasping at how tight and slick I am. My breasts jiggle as I shift, nipples brushing the robe, and I moan into the quiet. He’s fishing, the little bastard, and I’m too far gone to care.
Me: “Honest? Both, you asshole. 😤 Wine’s got me loose, but you’re the one fucking with my head. Happy now? You’re awful, Andy—I shouldn’t even be telling you this. 😳💦”
I send it, then arch my back, pumping my fingers faster. My pussy’s dripping, the wet sounds loud in my ears, and I can’t stop picturing him—sweatpants tenting, hand slipping down maybe. My clit’s pulsing, begging, and I’m panting now, the wine glass forgotten.
Andy: “Fuck, Mom, you serious? 💦 I’m the asshole? You’re killing me down here. Head’s all messed up now too. You’re… doing something up there, aren’t you? Shit. 😈🔥”
He knows. Oh god, he knows. My face burns, but my pussy’s throbbing harder, soaked and quivering around my fingers. I pull them out, slick with my juices, and rub my clit in tight circles, moaning low in my throat. The robes tangled under me, my heavy breasts bouncing as I rocked my hips. I shouldn’t answer. I can’t not answer.
Me: “Yeah, I’m doing something, Andy. 😏 Fucking dying up here, thanks to you. Don’t you dare come up—I mean it. What about you? Are you just sitting there smug? 💦🔥”
I hit send, then spread my legs wider, my dripping hole splayed open. My fingers dive back in, three now, stretching me, and I groan loud enough I’m scared he’ll hear. My nipples ache, begging to be touched, and I pinch one hard, gasping as pleasure spikes through me. The phone buzzes, and I fumble for it, breathless.
Andy: “Dying? Shit, Mom, you’re gonna make me lose it. 😳 Nah, not smug—hard as fuck down here. Can’t move or I’ll come up there myself. You sound so hot. What’re you doing? Tell me. 💦🔥”
Hard as fuck. My mind blanks and then floods with heat. He’s hard—my son’s hard because of me. My pussy clenches around my fingers, dripping down my thighs, and I’m shaking, so close I can taste it. I grind against my hand, moaning his name under my breath, then type with slippery fingers.
Me: “You’re hard? Fuck, Andy, that’s…😳 I’m touching myself, okay? Fingering my pussy, all wet and hot because of you. Don’t you move—I’m serious. I’m so close. FUCK it, just get up here, I saw you better not tell anyone. 💦🔥”
The door swings open slowly, and there he is—Andy, all lanky and cocky, his sweatpants tented obscenely. His dark eyes lock on me, wide and hungry, and I catch the faintest hitch in his breath. “Shit, Mom,” he mutters, voice rough, “you weren’t kidding.”
He started to undo his jeans while getting onto the bed. He moved my hands and got between my legs as he got his cock out. He rubbed it up and down my slit and slowly sank inside.
I freeze there on the bed, my chest heaving, my big breasts trembling with every shaky breath. The robe’s a useless puddle around me, and my pussy’s dripping wet, glistening in the dim light from the bedside lamp. Andy’s standing in the doorway, his jeans half-undone, that cocky smirk fading into something darker, hungrier. His eyes rake over me—my swollen nipples, my spread thighs, the slick mess I’ve made of myself—and I hear his breath catch again, a low, rough sound that sends a jolt straight to my throbbing core.
“Shit, Mom,” he says again, voice thick as he steps closer, kicking the door shut behind him. He’s already peeling his jeans down, letting them hit the floor with a soft thud. His sweatpants are gone too, and there’s just his tight black boxers now, stretched obscenely over the bulge of his rock-hard cock. He climbs onto the bed, slow and deliberate, his knees sinking into the mattress between my splayed legs. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?”
My heart’s pounding so loud I can barely hear myself think. I should stop this—scream at him to get out, lock the door, anything—but my body’s screaming louder, aching for him to touch me. He grabs my wrists, gentle but firm, moving my hands away from my soaked pussy. His fingers brush my slick thighs, and I moan, soft and needy, my hips twitching up toward him.
“Andy…” I whisper, my voice breaking as he settles between my legs. He hooks a finger into his boxers, tugging them down, and his cock springs free—thick, veined, the swollen head glistening with precum. My breath hitches, and my pussy clenches at the sight, dripping more onto the sheets. He grips himself, stroking once, twice, then drags the tip along my slit, teasing my quivering entrance. “Oh god, baby, what are we doing?”
He doesn’t answer, just groans low in his throat as he rubs his cock up and down my wet folds, coating himself in my juices. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he mutters, his voice husky, his eyes locked on where our bodies meet. Then he presses forward, slow and deliberate, sinking into me inch by inch. My pussy stretches around him, hot and tight, and I gasp, my back arching off the bed. The side of my panties—shoved aside earlier—rubs against his shaft as he slides in, the friction making him hiss.
“Ohhh, fuck, Andy,” I moan, my hands clawing at the sheets. He’s deep now, buried to the hilt, and I can feel every pulse of his cock inside me, throbbing against my walls. My breasts bounce as he starts to move, slow, deep thrusts that make my pussy gush around him. The wet, sloppy sound of us fills the room, and I’m panting, my nipples aching as they brush the air.
“Mom, you feel so good,” he groans, leaning down to kiss my neck, his breath hot against my skin. His lips are soft but greedy, sucking a mark just below my ear. “So fuckin’ tight. Been thinking about this all night.” His hips roll, grinding his cock deeper, and I whimper, my legs wrapping around him instinctively, pulling him closer.
“Andy, baby, yes,” I gasp, my voice trembling as pleasure coils tight in my belly. His hands slide up my sides, cupping my heavy breasts, thumbs flicking over my hard nipples. I cry out, my pussy clenching around him, and he groans again, louder this time, his thrusts picking up a slow, steady rhythm. “Don’t stop—oh god, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He fucks me slow and hard, every stroke dragging against my sensitive walls, the side of my panties scraping his shaft with every thrust. Sweat beads on his forehead, dripping onto my chest, and I can smell him—musky, sharp, mixing with the thick scent of my arousal. My pussy’s dripping down my thighs now, soaking the bed, and I’m moaning like a slut, loud and desperate, my whole body shaking under him.
“Fuck, Mom, you’re gonna make me cum,” he pants, his voice rough with need. His fingers dig into my hips, tilting me up so he can hit deeper, and I scream, my clit throbbing as his pelvis grinds against it. “You want that? Want me to fill you up?”
“Yes, baby, yes,” I sob, my nails raking down his back. My pussy’s so wet it’s obscene, slick and hot around his pulsing cock, and I’m right there, teetering on the edge. “Cum in me, Andy—fuck, I need it. Please.”
He growls, low and primal, and his thrusts get harder, faster, slamming into me with wet, filthy slaps. My breasts bounce wildly, my nipples tingling, and I’m moaning his name, over and over, my voice breaking as the pleasure crashes through me. “Andy—oh fuck, I’m cumming!” I scream, my pussy clamping down on him, gushing around his cock as I shatter, my whole body trembling.
He’s right behind me, groaning loud and guttural as he buries himself deep, his cock pulsing hard. “Shit, Mom—fuck!” Hot spurts of cum flood my pussy, thick and sticky, mixing with my juices as he pumps into me, riding out his orgasm. I feel it drip out, warm and wet, pooling under me, and I whimper, still twitching from my own release.
We’re both panting, sweaty and wrecked, as he collapses over me, his head resting between my breasts. His cock’s still inside, softening now, and my pussy’s a sloppy, satisfied mess. “Holy shit,” he mutters, voice muffled against my skin, and I laugh, shaky and dazed, running my fingers through his damp hair.
“Yeah,” I breathe, staring at the ceiling, my heart still racing. “Holy shit.”