Mom and I arrived at the hotel late after a long day of driving. As we checked in, the reception desk informed us they were overbooked and only had one room left. Mom flashed an apologetic smile. “I guess we’ll have to share a room sweetie, just for one night. Do you mind?”
Her emerald eyes sparkled with mischief as she placed a hand on my shoulder. “We’re both adults after all. And think of all the money we’ll save!”
I tried to hide my nervousness, but my heart was already racing at the thought of being alone with her. “Sure Mom, no problem. Whatever works for us.”
Minutes later, we entered our room. The bed was small, a single sized bed dominating the space. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment imagining us in it together. Mom didn’t seem to notice as she immediately began unpacking her bag.
“I’m going to take a long, hot shower,” she announced.
A while had passed and Mom shouted, “Honey can you pass me a towel, I am getting out the shower now. Don’t worry you can’t see anything.”
I grabbed a towel and went to the bathroom. She had one arm covering her voluptuous breasts, and I caught a tantalizing glimpse of one rosy nipple peeking out. I gulped and handed her the towel, trying not to stare at her glistening, smooth skin.
Moments later she came out wearing nothing but my t-shirt I had taken off earlier and a pair of skimpy black lace panties that barely contained her luscious curves. “Is that my t-shirt, Mom?” I asked, averting my gaze.
“Sorry honey, I hope it’s okay. I forgot to bring my nightie,” she said with a small smile.
As the night drew in, I found myself lying beside my breathtaking mother in the small hotel bed, unable to sleep. She was dressed in just the thin fabric of my t-shirt, which rode up to reveal a sliver of her toned stomach. Her panties left nothing to the imagination, showcasing her firm, round bottom. I stirred restlessly, my boxers growing tighter by the minute as I tried desperately to ignore my growing arousal.
“Don’t worry sweetie, I won’t bite,” Mom said teasingly, shifting her position. The movement caused her thigh to brush against mine and I let out an involuntary groan. She turned to face me, her eyes wide. “Is everything okay?”
“Just a little… tense,” I said as I looked flushed. “Erm… down there if you get what I mean.”
“Oh,” is all she said. “Well, will it… it go down.”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “I don’t know, Mom,” I stammered, “It’s just… being this close to you…”
Mom’s expression softened. She reached out a hand, her touch like an electric shock as her fingers brushed against my arm. “I had no idea, honey,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
She started to pull her hand away, but I stopped her, my own hand covering hers. “It’s not your fault, Mom,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Haha I think it’s here to stay, I guess there is nothing I can do about it.”
She remained silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on our intertwined hands. Then, slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet mine. “So,” she said, her voice low and husky, “what do you want to do about it?”
“Only way to get rid of it… if I… jerk it,” I said with embarrassment.
“Is that… is that what you want, honey?” she asked hesitantly, her voice barely audible.
I hesitated, torn between my desire and the awareness that this was my mother. But the intensity of my arousal and the closeness of the moment overwhelmed my reservations.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “I just… I don’t know what else to do.”
“Honey, don’t be embarrassed. If you need to… stroke it I don’t mind,” She blushed. “I will even turn my back to you for privacy.”
She turned over her back facing me again. I took my cock out and started wanking and mom heard me panting.
Mom inhaled deeply as I continued, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through my body. The silence of the room was broken only by my ragged breaths and the soft sounds of my hand against my flesh. I stole glances at Mom’s back, the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips visible beneath my t-shirt. The sight fueled my desire, pushing me closer to the edge.
“Are you…almost finished, honey?” Mom asked, her voice strained.
“No… nowhere…. ahh near,” I gasped, my body tensing with anticipation.
“Okay, honey,” she said softly, “Just… take your time… Mmmm.”
Wait… she just moaned. Her hand is doing something, she moaned again. Is she rubbing her pussy.
My eyes widened in disbelief. Was my own mother… masturbating beside me? The thought sent a jolt of electricity through my already heightened senses. I squeezed my eyes shut, my hand moving faster as I tried to process what was happening.
Another moan escaped Mom’s lips, this one louder, more desperate. It was a sound I had never heard before, raw and primal, and it sent shivers down my spine. It was both incredibly arousing and deeply unsettling. I was teetering on the edge of a moral precipice, the lines between right and wrong blurring with each passing second.
“Oh, God,” Mom whispered, “I… I can’t help it.”
I pressed up against her spooning her as I jerked my cock. “I can’t cum, anyway I don’t want to make a mess.”
“Just let go, honey,” Mom said breathlessly, her words a mix of pleasure and shame, “Don’t worry about the mess. Ahhh fuck I am so wet. Put… put it in me from behind if you want. Saves…. making a mess.”
“Mom… wait, wow really,” I choked out, my voice thick with a mix of desire and guilt. “You want me to fuck you.”
“Yes, honey,” Mom gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “I… I want you. Just this once. Don’t think, just feel.”
I slid her panties down and got right behind her ass. Her arm reached around and grobbed my dick to guide it under her cheeks to her pussy.
“Mmm my boy is very… girthy.” She moaned pushing my dick into her pussy with a squelch as I enter.
I hesitated for a split second, the weight of the situation crashing down on me. But then, her words echoed in my mind: “Just this once. Don’t think, just feel.” It was like a switch flipped in my brain. Reason and morality evaporated, leaving only pure, unadulterated lust.
I gripped her hips, her skin smooth and warm beneath my hands. The condom was already on, a silent testament to the fact that a part of me, somewhere deep down, had been anticipating this all along. I pushed forward, burying myself deep inside her.
Mom gasped, a sound that was both pleasure and pain. She arched her back, pressing against me, her nails digging into the sheets. “Oh, God, honey,” she moaned, her voice thick with desire. “That feels so good.”
And it did. It felt incredible. Wrong, forbidden, but undeniably incredible. Every thrust was a collision of flesh and emotion, a blurring of the lines between mother and son, right and wrong. I lost myself in the moment, consumed by the intensity of the experience. Her body was so responsive, so eager, that it fueled my own desire, driving me further and further into the depths of passion.
“Yes… honey harder,” I pumped her cunt harder as I spoon fucked her.
“Faster,” she begged, and I complied, my movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. The small room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.
We moved together in a frenzied rhythm, a whirlwind of moans and gasps and the sound of skin against skin. My world narrowed to the feel of her body against mine, the heat of her skin, the taste of her sweat.
I felt myself nearing the edge, my body tensing, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Mom was right there with me, her body convulsing, her nails digging deeper into my back.
“Oh, God, honey,” she cried out, her voice raw with pleasure, “I’m going to…” She squeezed her legs pushing me deeper into her, I thrust further, my release imminent.
And with one final, earth-shattering thrust, I emptied myself inside her. A long, shuddering groan escaped my lips as I collapsed on top of her, my body limp with exhaustion.
For a long moment, we lay entangled in the afterglow, our breathing ragged, our bodies slick with sweat. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner and our racing heartbeats, slowly returning to normal. Shame washed over me as I felt a tear slowly crawl down the side of my face.
Finally, Mom stirred, her body shifting beneath mine. She disentangled herself gently, pushing me off her and rolling onto her back. We lay in silence, side by side, staring at the ceiling.
“Well,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. “That was… something.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. The guilt was overwhelming, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. “Mom, I… I don’t know what to say,” I stammered, my voice choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”
Mom sighed, reaching out a hand to gently stroke my hair. “Don’t,” she said softly. “Don’t apologize, honey. We both made a mistake, but… it happened. We just need to deal with it.”
“But… what does this mean?” I asked, my voice trembling. “What happens now?”
She was quiet for a long moment before answering. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice heavy with uncertainty. “I honestly don’t know. We need to think about it. Both of us.”
She sat up, reaching for the discarded clothes on the floor. “Let’s just get some sleep for now,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “We can talk about this in the morning.”
I nodded numbly, feeling like a puppet whose strings had been cut. I pulled the covers over myself, turning away from her. Sleep was a long time coming, my mind racing with a mixture of guilt, shame, and a strange, unsettling sense of… longing. I had crossed a line, a line that could never be uncrossed. And I had no idea what the consequences would be.
The morning arrived, cold and gray. It mirrored the mood in the room, the air thick with unspoken tension. Mom was already up, dressed and packing her bag.
“I’m going to go grab some coffee,” she said, her voice flat. “Do you want anything?”
“No, thanks,” I mumbled, still lying in bed.
She nodded and left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, running through the events of the previous night. It felt like a dream, a bizarre, twisted fantasy that couldn’t possibly be real.
Eventually, I forced myself to get up. I dressed in silence, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. I barely recognized the hollow eyes staring back at me.
When Mom returned, she had two cups of coffee in her hands. She handed me one without a word. We sat in silence, sipping our coffee, the tension between us palpable.
Finally, Mom broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice steady but strained. “About last night.”
I braced myself, my heart pounding in my chest.
“I think,” she continued, “that we need to pretend it never happened. We need to go back to being mother and son. Nothing more. It was good don’t get me wrong, but it was wrong.”
A wave of disappointment washed over me, but I knew, deep down, that she was right. It was the only sensible thing to do.
“Okay,” I said, my voice barely audible. “Okay, Mom.”
She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and relief. “I love you, honey,” she said softly. “I always will. But we can’t… we can’t let this happen again.”
“I understand,” I said, forcing myself to meet her gaze.
And then, we packed our bags and left the hotel room, leaving behind the remnants of a night that had changed everything. In effect the room was not left behind as the images and the acts that had taken place that night would be embedded in our minds and souls forever. We drove home in silence, the miles stretching out before us like an endless road. We were mother and son again, at least on the surface. But beneath the facade, everything had changed. The bond between us was forever altered, fractured by a night of forbidden desire. We would carry the weight of our secret with us always, a constant reminder of the line we had crossed and the consequences we would have to live with. The journey back to “normal” had begun. The question was, would we ever truly arrive?