I was a lump on the sofa, the remote control a foreign object abandoned beside me. The muted glow of the television illuminated the dusty corners of the living room, but my gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the screen, lost in the fuzzy edges of my own thoughts and the comforting warmth of the half-empty wine bottle nestled on the coffee table. It was barely 8 PM, but I was already in my short, silk nightie, a clear sign I’d clocked out of the day hours ago. The house was quiet, too quiet, save for the low murmur of a sitcom I wasn’t watching.
A key turning in the lock made me jump slightly, my shoulders tensing before relaxing. Craig. He had his own key now. I heard him kick off his shoes by the door, then the rustle of his jacket.
“Mum? You home?” His voice was clear, crisp, a stark contrast to the thick fog clouding my own head.
“Hmm? Yeah, honey. In here,” I mumbled, not bothering to turn my head.
He appeared in the living room doorway, tall and gangly, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He paused, taking in the scene: the dim lighting, the half-finished bottle, my slumped posture. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He recognized the signs. It had been… a lot of long days recently, ever since Mark had walked out.
“Long day?” he asked, his voice softer now.
“Just… a day,” I sighed, finally pushing myself to sit up a little straighter, if only to appear less pathetic. The room spun for a split second, and I blinked, willing it to stop.
“You look comfy,” he said, trying for light-heartedness, but his eyes held a knowing sadness. He walked over, setting his bag down by the armchair, then hesitated before sitting next to me on the sofa, leaving a respectful gap. “You eaten anything?”
I shook my head. “Not really hungry.”
“Thought about ordering pizza,” he offered. “Or I could whip something up? Pasta?”
“No, I’m fine, really,” I said, waving a dismissive hand, my movements a little sluggish. “Just want to… zone out.”
Craig watched me for a moment, the silence stretching, heavy with unspoken worries. He knew “zoning out” meant drowning, and he’d seen me doing too much of it lately. The sparkle had gone from my eyes, replaced by a dull, distant look.
“You know,” he started, his voice casual, “I was thinking today about that time we went to the beach, and you tried to teach me to build a sandcastle, and it just kept collapsing?”
I offered a weak, lopsided smile. “Oh god, yes. Your little face was so serious, so determined. And then a wave just… ate it.”
“And you made that ridiculous noise, like a dying walrus, pretending to be as upset as me,” he continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “And then you picked me up and dunked me in the water, fully clothed.”
A little chuckle escaped me, a fragile sound, but a chuckle nonetheless. “You were furious! But then you started splashing and we both ended up soaked.”
“Yeah, and you said, ‘Sometimes, Craig, you just gotta laugh at the mess.’ You said that to me a lot, actually. And you always did. Whatever went wrong, you’d find a way to laugh.” He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you properly laugh, mum.”
My smile faded, replaced by that familiar distant stare. “Things are different now, Craig.”
“Yeah, they are,” he agreed softly. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t just tell me to be happy. He had to make me feel it. He needed a distraction, something to break through the wall I’d built around myself. He looked around the living room, his eyes landing on a stack of old board games on a shelf. An idea started to form.
“Hey,” he said, a mischievous glint entering his eyes. “Remember that game, ‘Crazy Eights,’ we used to play? The one where you’d always cheat?”
I squinted at him, a faint buzz in my ears from the wine. “I never cheated.”
“Oh, come on! You’d always ‘accidentally’ drop cards or ‘miscount’ them.” He grinned. “Or you’d tickle me when I was about to win.”
My lips twitched. “That was strategic. Psychological warfare.”
“Hmm. Sounds like a confession to me,” he teased, slowly rising from the sofa. He walked over to the shelf, pulled out a worn box. “Fancy a game?”
I hesitated, my earlier resolve to “zone out” battling with the faint pull of his playful energy. The idea of cards, the effort… but then I looked at his earnest, hopeful face.
“I, uh… I’m a bit tired, Craig,” I said, wincing slightly at the slur in my words.
He didn’t miss a beat. “Nonsense. You’re just afraid I’ll finally beat you fair and square.” He walked back, the box in his hand. “Or maybe you’re afraid I’ll invoke the ‘tickle rule’ when you try to cheat again.”
He leaned in, a playful smirk on his face. I felt a flicker of something, a spark that hadn’t been there in weeks. The wine had loosened my inhibitions enough that a small, impish thought popped into my head.
“Tickle rule, huh?” I slurred, a smirk of my own surfacing. “You always hated that.”
“I still do,” he deadpanned, but his eyes were bright with challenge. He reached forward and, knowing my sensitive spots, gently poked my side. “Don’t tempt me, old lady.”
I let out a surprised little yelp, a genuine, unforced sound. The corner of my mouth twitched. “That was a long time ago, Craig.”
“Oh, was it?” he asked, his smirk growing. “Seems like only yesterday to me.”
Before I could respond, he lunged forward, catching me off guard. Next thing I knew, he was tickling me and I was laughing like crazy as we rolled around on the living room floor. Somewhere in the midst of our playful struggle, my nightie rode up, leaving me exposed in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
“Sweetie, haha I give up,” I gasped, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. But he was stronger, and he had me pinned to the floor with my legs slightly open. My drunken haze just looking up at him.
“Good to see you laughing again, mum,” Craig said, his breath warm against my skin. His gaze dropped, taking in the unexpected view. “And… wow. You look beautiful all worked up.”
I blushed, a deep, warm wave spreading through me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this alive, this desired. It was a dangerous line we were treading, but the thrill was undeniable.
“Craig…” I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper my legs wrapped around his waist, his hand stroked my thigh.
“If you wasn’t my mum I would do you right here,” he sighed. “Sorry, I am just in that kind of mood.”
“Haha I know honey I can… feel it,” I did I felt him hard against me and fuck I wanted it. “I shouldn’t say this but… I have no knickers on honey.”
He smirked, “Is that an offer. I am going to try something, if you hate it tell me to stop.”
He started kissing the side my neck while his hand went below as he was doing something. Then I heard his zipper and then I felt omg his cock head pushing against my labia.
I tensed, my heart pounding in my chest. This was wrong, so wrong, but it felt right. It had been so long since I’d felt wanted, touched with such raw desire. I should stop him, push him away, but I couldn’t find the strength. Instead, I found myself arching into him, my body betraying my mind.
“Craig…” I whispered, my voice hoarse with want and confusion. I didn’t know what I wanted him to do, but I needed him to do something. I felt him shudder at the sound of his name on my lips, and then he was pushing inside me. He then started to fuck me his cock sliding in and out of me.
“You… feel good, shall… shall I stop,” he said as he went at a steady rhythm.
“No,” I finally managed to whisper, my voice hoarse with want and confusion. “Don’t stop. Ahhh you have grown… up so quickly oh yes.”
He groaned at the sound of my consent, and then he was moving faster, his hips thrusting harder. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper into me. The room spun around us, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations. I couldn’t believe what was happening, but I couldn’t deny how good it felt.
I let out a low moan as Craig drove into me harder, his cock stretching me in the most delicious way. “Yes, baby, just like that,” I panted, my hips rocking to meet his thrusts.
The illicit thrill of it all sent a shiver down my spine. This was so wrong, making love to my own son… But god, the way he filled me up, the heat of his skin against mine, it was like nothing I’d ever felt before.
He murmured dirty things in my ear as he took me, his voice sending jolts of lust straight to my core. “Fuck, mum, you’re so tight… I’ve wanted this for so long…”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My sweet, innocent boy had been craving me? The thought made me clench around his thick shaft, wanting to milk him for all he was worth.
“That’s it, baby, let me feel you,” I cooed, running my nails down his back. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
Craig groaned and picked up the pace, his hips a blur as he pounded into my sopping wet cunt. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with our moans and gasps.
“Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop,” I begged, my eyes rolling back in my head with the sound of his balls slapping against me.
The world around me was a blur, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations that I couldn’t quite comprehend. I was acutely aware of every inch of Craig’s body pressed against mine, the weight of him, the warmth of his skin, the feeling of him inside me. It was wrong, so wrong, but it felt right. It had been so long since I’d felt wanted, touched with such raw desire.
His rhythm was steady, a gentle thrusting that sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I could feel every inch of him, the length of his shaft, the curve of his hips, the strength of his thighs. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper into me, urging him on with soft moans and gasps.
“You feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
I couldn’t believe it either, but I didn’t want it to stop. I’d never felt so alive, so desired, so free. The weight of the world seemed to melt away with every thrust, replaced by a sense of euphoria that I couldn’t quite describe.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, my voice hoarse with want and confusion. “Please, don’t stop. Oh fuck, I can’t believe your fucking me. Do… do you like my pussy.”
Craig groaned, his hips jerking at my words. “Like it? Fuck, mum, I love it. It’s perfect. So warm and wet and tight. I could get use to this.” He buried his face in my neck, biting down gently as he thrust harder.
“Yes, baby, just like that,” I panted, my hips rocking to meet his thrusts. “You’re doing so good.”
“You’re fucking incredible, Mum,” he gasped, pulling his head back to look into my eyes. They were hazy, lust glazed and a little wild. “You know that, right?,” he asked, a desperate edge to his voice. “
But then he felt a shift inside her, a tightening that spoke of the wave about to crash. He was about to lose it, and he didn’t want to hold back anymore.
“I’m gonna cum, Mum,” he growled, the words sounding rough, almost animalistic in her ears. “Gonna fill you right the fuck up.”
He slammed his hips forward with renewed urgency, each thrust sending shivers down my spine. I was so close, I could feel it. My body was throbbing, my clit clenched tight, begging for him to release.
“Oh god, Craig,” I moaned, my voice raw with need. “Don’t… don’t stop…”
He was just above the breaking point now, his chest heaving, his face flushed, eyes dark with want. “One more time…” he choked out, then he roared, a guttural sound of pure release that echoed through the room.
His cock pulsed inside me, the force of his orgasm making me gasp. He shuddered against me, spilling hot white inside me. And then, as if mirroring his eruption, I felt myself overload. A wave of pleasure crashed over me, so intense it was almost unbearable. It was a symphony of sensations: the tightness of my muscles, the slickness of my vagina, the warm weight of his cock inside me.
My cry mixed with his, our bodies a tangled mess of limbs and spilled passion. All hold back was gone. All inhibitions down the drain.
When the wave finally receded, both of us were panting, spent. He held me close, his chest against mine, the echo of his heartbeat a reassuring counterpoint to the still thrumming of my own.
“Oh god, Mum,” he whispered, his voice thick with contentment. “I am so sorry…”
“Don’t…don’t apologise, Craig,” I choked out, my voice still husky with aftershocks. My hand came up to caress his hair, burying my fingers in the thick clumps. “I needed that, wow it felt really good. Naughty boy haha.”
“Naughty, am I?” Craig murmured, a smirk playing on his lips as he lifted his head to look at me. His eyes, still hazy with lust, searched mine for some sign of regret, of disgust. But all he found was a warmth that mirrored his own. “You’re not so innocent yourself, Mum.” His hand slipped from my hair to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “I reckon we’re both a little bit naughty.”
His touch was electric, a jolt of awareness that sent shivers down my spine. I wanted to tell him to stop, to pull away from this line he was so brazenly crossing. But the thought was lost amidst the dizzying mix of guilt and satisfaction swirling within me. I leaned into his touch, relishing the sensation of his warmth against my skin.
“You know, Mum,” he continued, his voice low and raspy,” I always thought you knew how to play dirty.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, before adding,”Guess I was right all along.”
His gaze flicked down to my bare chest, then back to my lips. A playful grin spread across his face, sending another wave of heat through my body.
“Do you…” he began, the question hanging in the air, charged with unspoken desires. “Do you want to do it again?”
My breath caught in my throat. I wanted to say no. Logic screamed at me to retreat, to pull myself away from this dangerous precipice. But a deeper, wilder urge, a pure, primal instinct, whispered a different answer.
“Yes,” I whispered, the word barely audible. “Let’s go to my room.”
I couldn’t stop this. I didn’t even want to.