Emma’s texts still lit up my screen like she was here, lying beside me in the lamplight, even though she was thousands of miles away. A blurry poolside selfie—her freckles lit with sun, hair tied up, strap of her bikini slipping just a little off her shoulder. God, I missed her. I tapped out a reply with my thumb:
“It’s not the same without you. Bed feels too big. FaceTime later?”
Before I could hit send, her little typing bubbles popped up. Then disappeared.
Then I heard it—muffled voices through the vent, rising. My parents again. The soft whirr of the air conditioning couldn’t quite cover the tension in their tone. Mum’s voice was sharp, slicing through the floorboards with that practiced edge. My stomach tensed. I tossed my phone onto the bed, screen face-up, and sat up.
She must’ve dressed already. I could picture it without trying—Mum had been giddy about the ball for weeks. Said it was the first time in ages she felt like dressing up, like really dressing up. Black dress she’d ordered from some boutique online. It came in a long white box like it was something sacred. When she’d tried it on the other night, she called me into the hallway, made a slow turn.
The dress was simple but dangerous—liquid black, low at the front, slit so high on her thigh she’d joked she’d need to walk carefully. I remember how the soft fabric clung to her chest when she exhaled, dipping and lifting with every breath. And she’d laughed when I blushed.
Now, her voice carried upstairs like heat rising. “…You promised, James. I’ve been waiting all week. Don’t you dare pull this now.”
My dad’s voice followed, lower, trying to smooth things over like always. I couldn’t hear the words, but I knew the tone. Paperwork. Deadlines. Some meeting he forgot to reschedule. He’d always been good at saying sorry, but not so good at changing the pattern.
I opened my door, padded down the carpeted hallway barefoot. At the top of the stairs I paused. She was standing by the foyer mirror, straightening her earrings with a hand that trembled slightly. The dress was even more elegant than I remembered. The slit on the side showed most of her leg when she shifted her weight, and the neckline framed her cleavage unapologetically, like it was part of the design. Her chest lifted with a sigh, which made the fabric shift against her again.
“You’ve had this in the calendar for months,” she said, not looking at him. “I bought this damn dress for tonight.”
Dad stood by the stairs, papers in one hand, tie half-done. His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but then he saw me.
“Liam,” he said, quickly. “You’re the same size as me, right?”
Mum turned, eyes still glassy, her mouth pressing into a tight line.
“What?”
“The tux. Mine. It’ll fit him.”
“What are you talking about?” Mum asked. Her voice was quieter now, but more dangerous.
Dad looked at me like I was supposed to jump in. “You go with her. Represent the family. I’ll make it up to you both. I swear.”
I looked from him to her. Her eyes met mine then—still sharp, but something softer underneath. She looked beautiful. Like a movie star who got stood up.
“You want me to take Mum?” I asked.
He nodded. “It’s better than wasting the whole night. She’s already ready. You’ll look good together.”
Mum exhaled a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Jesus, James.”
I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to crawl back upstairs, text Emma, pretend none of this happened. But another part of me didn’t want Mum to cry off her makeup alone in the kitchen again.
“I guess I can change into your tux,” I said slowly, already feeling the weight of the night settle onto my shoulders. “If you’re sure.”
She looked at me then, really looked, and I could tell she was fighting something—maybe disappointment, maybe gratitude. Maybe both. Her voice was soft when she said, “Only if you want to.”
I didn’t answer. I just turned and headed upstairs to change.
“Ok ill be waiting in the car, you can drive Liam,” she said grabbing her handbag and heading to the car.
Mum was already in the passenger seat of his car, staring straight ahead. The streetlights caught the shimmer of her dress through the window. She turned as I opened the driver’s door.
“Ready?” I asked.
She nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “As I’ll ever be.”
The drive was quiet at first. The radio was on low, playing some old-school R&B. I kept glancing at her. She looked stunning. The black fabric of her dress seemed to liquid against her skin. Every time we hit a bump, her breasts, full and round, moved subtly under the dark material. My eyes kept lingering there, then darting back to the road. It felt wrong, but I couldn’t help it. My body felt tight, a constant ache that Emma usually helped with. Now, it was just… there.
“You look nice, Liam,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
“Thanks, Mum. You too. Really really good.”
She chuckled, “At least someone notices me.”
The rest of the drive passed in a blur of streetlights and low music. We pulled up to the grand entrance of the hotel. Valets were rushing around, opening doors. The place was lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Here we go,” Mum said, a little sigh escaping her lips.
I got out and opened her door. She stepped out, the black dress shimmering under the bright lights of the portico. Heads turned. I held out my arm, and she slipped her hand into the crook of my elbow. Her skin felt warm through the tux jacket.
Inside, the ballroom was already buzzing. Music played, not too loud yet. People were scattered around, holding drinks, laughing. Mum straightened her shoulders, a different kind of smile on her face now. It wasn’t the tight, disappointed one from home. This was a practiced, social smile.
We found an empty table near the edge of the dance floor. I got us both a drink. She thanked me, her eyes scanning the room. I kept catching glimpses of her, how the light played on the fabric of her dress, how her neck curved when she laughed at something someone said nearby.
After a while, the band started playing something slow. A few couples drifted onto the dance floor. Mum turned to me.
“Fancy a dance, Liam?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye. “We’re already here.”
I hesitated for a second. Dancing with my mum. In front of all these people. But then I looked at her, truly ready to enjoy herself after Dad had let her down.
“Sure, Mum,” I said, standing up. “Why not?”
I led her onto the floor, my hand resting lightly on the small of her back. The fabric was so soft. She placed her hand on my shoulder, and our other hands met, fingers just barely touching. We started to sway, slowly, to the music.
She was closer now. The scent of her perfume, something floral and warm, filled my nose. My eyes kept drifting. The dress dipped lower than I’d realized, and with every small sway, her breasts moved. Full. So full. They were right there, just inches from my face. My whole body felt like it was humming, a low, constant thrum. I couldn’t help it. My gaze locked on the soft, swelling curve of her chest, the shadowy valley between them.
The music played on. We turned slowly, gently. Her eyes were on my face at first, then they dropped. She must have felt my stare. Her brows furrowed just a fraction, and she looked down, then back up at me. Her lips, painted a soft red, pressed together for a brief moment. She definitely knew where I was looking. But she didn’t pull away. She just kept swaying, her eyes now searching my face, a question in them.
Hours past and she was very drunk, and her head was leaning on my shoulder now. Her breath, warm and smelling faintly of wine, brushed my ear. The slow music was still playing, but she was swaying more than dancing, her body pressing against mine without much space between us. My hand, still on the small of her back, felt the slight give of her dress. I could feel the heat radiating from her.
Her arm was heavy on my shoulder, and her other hand, still intertwined with mine, was gripping a little tighter. Every shift of her weight pushed her chest further against me. I could feel the soft roundness of her breasts through the thin fabric of my tux and her dress. It was intense. My mouth felt dry. My eyes were still fixed on her cleavage, the dark shadow between her breasts deepening with each sway.
She lifted her head slightly, her eyes a little unfocused but still meeting mine. A slow smile spread across her lips. “What are you looking at, Liam?” she slurred, her voice soft, almost a whisper. But there was no anger, no shock, just a kind of hazy curiosity.
My heart hammered. I swallowed hard. I couldn’t lie. Not now, not when she was this close, this soft, this… available. “You look… stunning, Mum,” I managed, my voice rougher than I intended. My gaze drifted down again, inevitably, to the swell of her chest.
Her smile widened. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then opened again, fixing on my face. “Stunning enough to forgive your old man?” she mumbled, her voice catching. She leaned in closer, her head resting on my shoulder again. “He doesn’t look anymore.”
The words hit me. A strange mix of pity and something else, something dangerous, stirred in my gut. My hand, still on her back, instinctively moved fractionally lower, pulling her even closer. She didn’t resist. She just swayed, pressing her full weight against me. The music seemed to fade into the background. All I could feel was her body, soft and warm, against mine. I could almost feel the heat of her skin radiating through the thin fabric. This was wrong, so wrong, and yet… I couldn’t move. Couldn’t pull away. Not now.
“Liam,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her face still buried near my shoulder. “I’m so tired.”
“Let’s go home, Mum,” I murmured back, my voice strained. My hand stayed where it was, holding her close, guiding her off the dance floor as the song ended.
On the drive back she looked so miserable and down. She kept messing with her neckline and did I look at her chest through the rear view mirror, guilty I did. Then out of no where, “god I wish your dad would man up and give me a seeing to. It’s been so long.”
“I know what you mean mum, Emma as been away for weeks now and… well you know.” I felt so bad, I knew this was my Mum but my cock was hard and I was tempted to ask if she wanted me to drive somewhere quiet.
I glanced at her in the rearview mirror again, my heart pounding. The words hung heavy in the air between us. She was staring out the window, her reflection ghostly in the glass. The neckline of her dress had slipped even lower, revealing more of her cleavage.
“Mum,” I started, my voice barely a whisper. “If you… if you need…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.My hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. She turned slowly, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. There was a flicker of something in them—surprise, maybe embarrassment—but also a kind of desperate hunger. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
“Need what, Liam?” she asked softly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I could… help,” I managed to say. “If you wanted. We don’t have to go home yet, I can drive somewhere really quiet.”
“Oh Liam, you don’t know what you’re saying,” she breathed, but there was no conviction in her voice. If anything, she sounded hopeful. “We can’t…it’s not right.”
“Mum, please,” I whispered urgently, glancing at her in the rear view mirror. “I know it’s not right, but… fuck, I’m so hard right now just thinking about it.” My voice was low and rough with desire. “No one has to know. It can be our secret.”
She was silent for a long moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. Then, slowly, she reached up and pulled the strap of her dress down, revealing more of her shoulder, the swell of her breast.
“Park the car,” she said softly. “For fuck sake I can’t believe I am letting you. Ok find a quiet spot.” My heart raced as I pulled off the main road onto a deserted dirt track that led into some woods. I drove until the trees closed in around us and parked under a large oak tree.
I parked the car under the large oak tree, the headlights casting eerie shadows through the bare branches. The engine ticked as it cooled, the only sound in the sudden silence. I turned off the ignition and sat there, my heart pounding in my chest.
We undid our seatbelts and I got out of my seat and I adjusted mums seat until she was laying down. I got on top of her and looked down at her, “You ok Mum, I know this is weird.”
“I’m okay, Liam,” she whispered, her eyes locked on mine. Her hands came up to rest on my chest, fingers splayed wide. “Just… be gentle, okay?”
I pushed her dress up and oh wow she had no knickers on, “Mum where the hell are your knickers.”
She bit her lip, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. “I… I didn’t wear any tonight,” she admitted softly, her hips shifting slightly beneath me. “I felt… reckless. Like maybe…” She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. “Because tonight was supposed to be for me and your dad.” I couldn’t believe it. My own mother, lying beneath me with no panties on.
I took out my cock and pressed it to her pussy opening, hairy and damp. I pushed forward as my mushroom head purple end parted her pussy as I sunk inside.
I pushed forward slowly, feeling her warm, tight walls enveloping my shaft. She gasped as I entered her, her back arching off the seat. Her hands gripped my shoulders tightly, nails digging into my skin through the fabric of my shirt.”Oh god, Liam,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “You’re so… big.”
I looked down at where our bodies joined, watching in fascination as I disappeared inch by inch into her. Her pussy lips stretched around me, glistening and pink. I could feel every ridge and fold of her insides caressing my cock as I sank deeper. I started to raised my ass up and down as my cock slid in and out of my mums pussy.
“Oh Liam, yes!”she cried out, her voice echoing in the quiet car.Her hips lifted to meet my thrusts, her body moving instinctively against mine. “Harder, please,” she begged, her nails raking down my back.I obliged, picking up the pace. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the car, mingling with our heavy breaths and muffled moans. I could feel her getting wetter by the second, her juices coating my cock and dripping down onto the leather seat.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted mindlessly, her head thrashing from side to side. Her breasts bounced wildly with each thrust, threatening to spill out of her dress completely.
My hips slammed forward. Harder. Faster. The old car rocked with every single thrust. The windows were all fogged up, thick with steam. I couldn’t see anything outside, but I didn’t care. All I saw was Mum’s face, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a soft, breathless moan.
“Oh, Liam,” she panted, her voice a rough whisper.
It felt incredible inside her. So tight, so wet, so hot. Each deep push made my balls ache, a beautiful, intense ache. My cock throbbed, huge and full. It was almost too much, but I wanted more. I needed more. Every muscle in my body felt pulled taut, ready to snap.
“Mum,” I gasped, my voice raw and strained. “I’m close. So close.”
She wrapped her legs even tighter around my waist. Her ankles locked at my lower back, pulling me in deeper. Right to the hilt. “Yes, baby. Come on. Don’t stop now.”
Her words hit me like a jolt. A sudden surge of pure need shot through me. “I can’t,” I choked out, pushing harder than before, burying myself as deep as I could. “I’m gonna… Mum, I’m gonna…”
“Let it go, Liam. Fill me up,” she whispered, her hips meeting mine, grinding hard against me.
That was it. Her words. Her body wrapped around me. The incredible feeling of her squeezing me. I couldn’t hold back another second. I let out a yell that ripped from my throat. My whole body went stiff, locked up tight. I pushed one last, massive, final thrust.
And then I exploded.
“FUCK!” I screamed, my voice cracking. My cock pulsed and pulsed, shooting out wave after wave. Hot, thick cum surged from me in powerful gushes. I felt it, every single stream, soaking deep inside her. It was endless.
Beneath me, Mum gasped. Her body twitched, then started to shake. Her pussy clenched around my cock like a vice. It squeezed me, milking me dry with every pulse. She started to moan louder, a long, high-pitched cry that filled the car. Her legs trembled, then convulsed, locking even tighter around my waist. She was coming too. Hard.
“Oh, God, Liam!” she cried out. Her back arched off the seat, her hips bucking against mine, matching every powerful pulse of my cum. She squeezed me again and again, taking everything I had to give. Her whole body was shaking, tremors running right through her. I felt her muscles clench around me, over and over, until I was completely empty.
We just lay there, connected, barely breathing. My cock was still deep inside her, still pulsing faintly, emptied but full of warmth. Her pussy still held me tight, still quivering around me. Our breaths were heavy, ragged gasps in the silent car. My chest was heaving. Her head fell back against the seat, eyes still closed, a soft moan escaping her lips. We were utterly spent, but alive with the lingering thrill.