The familiar hum of the refrigerator filled our quiet living room, a steady pulse to the gentle rustle of pages as I turned them. The day had been long, stretching out like an unforgiving road, and now, finally, with the setting sun painting the window in hues of deep orange and purple, I was nestled into the plush cushions of the couch, lost in the world of my latest novel. My nightie, a soft, well-worn silk that felt like a second skin, was my uniform for these evenings, a promise of comfort and an unspoken invitation for my husband, Peter, when he eventually made his way to bed. It was simple, elegant, and yes, sometimes it rode up a little when I curled my legs beneath me, but that was part of its easy charm. Peter always said he liked it when it did.
Then, the familiar creak of the front door, followed by the heavier tread of male footsteps. Lee. My son. He was a man now, though to me, he’d always be my boy. I heard him drop his keys on the hall table, followed by a soft sigh that spoke volumes of his own long day. A moment later, he appeared in the archway, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair falling over his forehead, shirt slightly rumpled. He paused for a moment, taking in the scene – me, the book, the soft lamplight – before moving to the armchair directly opposite me. He sank into it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.
“Hey, honey,” I said, looking up from my book, a warm smile spreading across my face. “Have a good day, love?”
He nodded, returning my smile, though his seemed a little tired around the edges. “Yeah, long one. Just trying to shake it off.”
I nodded in understanding. He worked hard, my Lee. Always had. He was a good son, diligent and thoughtful, if a little quiet sometimes. As he settled deeper into the armchair, he glanced at me again, and I felt a flicker of something in his gaze that was… different. He looked down, then up, then his eyes seemed to linger a moment longer on my legs. I shifted slightly, my silk nightie rustling softly. Indeed, it had ridden up, as it often did when I sat cross-legged like this, revealing a good portion of my thigh. I didn’t think anything of it. It was just a nightie, and he was my son.
“You know, Mum,” he said, his voice a little strained, “you should wear something a little more comfortable to bed.”
I chuckled, amused by his sudden concern for my attire. “I’m comfortable enough, sweetie. Besides, your dad likes seeing me in this.” I added the last part with a wink, a private joke between Peter and me, a way of signaling our enduring affection. I saw a slight flush rise on Lee’s cheeks, and he quickly looked away, towards the television. I dismissed it as typical teenage awkwardness, even though he was well past his teens now. He was just a little shy about his parents’ intimacy, bless him.
We sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the soft murmur of the television filling the space between us. I went back to my book, but my awareness of Lee remained. I could feel his gaze occasionally, a subtle weight on my legs. It was odd, I thought, a little less casual than usual. I glanced up, observing him from over the top of my book. He was ostensibly watching the TV, but his eyes kept flicking down, then quickly away. The soft silk of my nightie, I realized, had indeed slipped up even higher as I’d relaxed into the cushions, almost exposing the curve of my hip. A tiny prickle of unease, unfamiliar and fleeting, touched me. I shifted again, subtly, intending to pull the fabric down, but somehow, in my relaxed state, I just stretched my leg out a little more, settling into an even deeper state of repose. A brief flash of pale skin, a whisper of warmth as the air touched my inner thigh. I was home, safe, with my son. What was there to worry about?
Then, Lee’s voice cut through the quiet, a touch hesitant. “Mum, do you fancy a drink of whisky?”
My eyebrows rose in surprise. Whisky? He rarely suggested we drink together, and almost never alcohol beyond a glass of wine at a special dinner. He usually stuck to soft drinks. It was an odd request, especially from him. I looked at him, and his eyes, though trying to appear casual, held a certain intensity. And then, as I held his gaze, I felt a sudden, sharp realization. The way he was looking, the way he had just spoken… it wasn’t just about my exposed leg. It was deeper, more pointed. I felt a sudden rush of warmth, not just from the room, but from within me. Had I been… too relaxed? Too open? A flicker of self-consciousness, then a strange, almost daring curiosity.
My gaze dropped, instinctively, to my own nightie, to where my leg lay stretched. The soft silk was indeed riding high, and in that moment, for the first time, I felt a distinct, almost electric awareness of my body positioned like that, in front of him. I hadn’t worn knickers, as was my habit for comfort at home, and I hadn’t given it a second thought. But now, seeing it through what I suddenly understood was his eyes, I felt a jolt.
My immediate reaction was to cover myself, a reflex born of years of maternal propriety. I crossed my legs, the silk sighing softly as it slid down, concealing everything once more. I looked back at him, a playful, slightly knowing smile forming on my lips. It was a test, perhaps. A way to gauge his intent.
“Oh, you wanna drink with your old mum, do you, Lee?” I teased, my voice light, masking the sudden flutter in my chest.
“Yeah, why not?” he stammered, still trying for nonchalance, but I could hear the eagerness underneath. “It’s been a long day, and I thought it might be nice to unwind together. Just you and me.” He added the last part softly, almost a plea.
I studied him, a contemplative expression settling on my face. A drink with my son? It was unusual, but not unwelcome. He was a grown man now, and perhaps this was his way of reaching out, wanting a different kind of connection. “Well, I suppose a small one wouldn’t hurt,” I finally conceded, a slow smile spreading across my lips. “Go on then, get the good stuff out of the cabinet.”
He sprang up almost immediately, a nervous energy in his movements. I watched him go, a strange mix of maternal affection and a nascent, unsettling awareness stirring within me. He returned quickly, two glasses clinking, the amber liquid of the Jack Daniels bottle glinting under the soft living room lights. He sat down right next to me on the couch, the cushions dipping with his weight, bringing our thighs almost touching. I could feel the faint warmth radiating from him, a familiar scent of his aftershave mingled with something uniquely Lee. My heart gave a curious little lurch, a beat out of sync.
He poured two generous measures, the clink of glass against glass sounding loud in the quiet room. “Here you go, Mum,” he said, his voice a little tight.
“Oh, that’s a proper pour, isn’t it?” I chuckled, taking the glass. I took a slow sip, letting the burning warmth spread through me, closing my eyes for a moment in quiet appreciation. “Mmm, that hits the spot after a long day.”
I heard him gulp his own drink, a quick, almost desperate sound. We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the TV playing softly in the background. Despite crossing my legs, my nightie still revealed a tantalizing glimpse of my upper thigh. I was aware of his gaze darting to it, even as he pretended to watch the screen. A strange sense of power stirred within me, a subtle hum beneath the surface of my skin.
“So, what’s got you wanting a drink tonight, then?” I asked, turning slightly towards him, my smile easy and relaxed. The whisky was already starting to melt away the day’s tension. “Anything specific, or just winding down?”
“Just winding down, Mum,” he lied smoothly, mirroring my relaxed demeanor. But I could see the subtle flicker in his eyes, the effort in his calm facade. “Like you said, long day. It’s nice, though, just us. We don’t do this often.”
“No, we don’t,” I agreed, taking another, longer sip. The whisky was good, blurring the edges of my thoughts, making me feel mellow and warm. My eyes seemed to sparkle a little more, I could feel it. “You’re all grown up now, too busy with your own life.” I leaned back into the cushions, my posture softening, letting my body relax fully into the couch’s embrace. The nightie, in response, seemed to ride up just a fraction more. I was aware of it, but the warmth of the whisky was making me feel loose, less concerned with such trivialities. I swallowed hard, less from the whisky, more from the sudden surge of something… different.
“Not too busy for my mum,” he replied, forcing a smile. I watched him finish his glass, a little too quickly.
“Another one?” he asked, already reaching for the bottle.
“Oh, I don’t know, honey,” I demurred, but my eyes held a playful glint. The alcohol was loosening my inhibitions, making me feel daring. “I don’t want to get too tipsy tonight. You trying to get your old mum drunk, you little rogue?” I teased, a slight tremor in my voice.
“Never, Mum,” he countered quickly, pouring another measure into my glass without waiting for a full answer, making sure it was just as generous as the first. His hand lingered on the bottle, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid as if it held all the answers. “Just enjoying your company. Besides, a little tipsy never hurt anyone, did it? Helps you really unwind after a long week.”
I watched him pour, a soft smile playing on my lips. He was so eager, so transparent. And yet, there was something undeniably flattering in his focused attention. “You’re right, I suppose. It has been a long week.” I took the refilled glass, my fingers brushing his briefly as he handed it over. The touch sent a tiny, unexpected jolt through me, like static electricity. His skin felt warm, almost too warm. I took a slow sip, my eyes closing for a moment as I savoured the taste. The liquid in my glass seemed to vanish quicker this second time.
The television continued to murmur in the background, a forgotten presence. The only sounds that truly registered were the clink of ice in our glasses and the soft rustle of my nightie as I shifted. I uncrossed my legs, stretching them out slightly on the couch, letting myself sink deeper into the comfort. The fabric of my nightie slid up even further, significantly, undeniably. Now, a large portion of my inner thigh, almost up to the hip, was visible. I felt the cool air on my skin, and though I was aware of my exposure, I found I simply didn’t care. The whisky had melted away my prudishness, replacing it with a hazy, warm indifference. It was a clear, undeniable view of the smooth skin leading right to… well, to the core of me.
I forced myself to take another sip, the burn in my throat a welcome distraction from the dizzying warmth spreading through my body. “So, anything interesting happen at work today?” I asked, attempting to sound normal, attempting to divert my own attention from the powerful pull of the moment.
He chuckled, a rich, warm sound, made deeper by the whisky. “Oh, you know, the usual office dramatics. Mrs. Henderson from accounts complaining about the coffee machine again. Nothing you’d find exciting.” He finished his drink with a soft sigh. “Ah, that’s better.” He leaned his head back against the cushion, his eyes half-closed. His face was flushed, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks. The dim living room lights made his skin glow, and his usually composed features had relaxed into a state of blissful abandon. He was just as tipsy as I was.
My hand instinctively reached for the bottle again. “Another one, then? Just a small one, to finish the bottle?” My voice was a little huskier than I intended, a little breathless.
He opened his eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “You really are trying to get me drunk, aren’t you, you little rogue?” he teased, his voice slurring just a fraction. There was no real objection in his tone, just playful accusation. His eyes, though, held a depth I hadn’t seen before, a warmth that seemed to invite me closer, to share something unspoken.
“Just want to make sure you’re truly relaxed, Mum,” I whispered, pouring the last of the whisky into our glasses, splitting it between us. It wasn’t much left, but enough for one final, potent dose. I handed him his glass, and this time, my fingers lingered on his for a beat longer, a conscious choice.
“Well, you’re succeeding, honey,” I purred, taking a long sip. My head lolled slightly to the side, and I looked at him, a direct, knowing gaze that sent shivers down my spine, a shiver that was both exhilarating and terrifying. “I feel… very relaxed. Maybe a little too relaxed to move.” I didn’t adjust my nightie, even though it was now dangerously high. My leg was almost touching his, and I could feel the faint warmth radiating from his skin. The air in the room seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, thick and heavy, pulling us closer.
“Good,” he managed, his voice barely a whisper. I could see the desperate heat in his eyes now, unconcealed by the alcohol. He took a deep breath, the scent of whisky and my perfume filling his lungs, I imagined. This was it. I was drunk, exposed, and looking at him in a way I’d never dared before. The opportunity was right there, hanging between us, heavy and potent. My heart pounded, a frantic, desperate rhythm in my chest. What was he going to do? What was I going to let him do?
“I feel a little drunk, haha,” I giggled, truly giddy now. My head was swimming, but my senses felt heightened, alive. And then, I felt it. His hand, warm and firm, on my thigh. He stroked my leg, slowly, tentatively, just above where the nightie still clung. My breath hitched.
“Lee,” I said, a soft gasp escaping my lips, a warning that wasn’t a warning at all. “Behave, haha.” The words were playful, teasing, a breathless chuckle catching in my throat. My heart hammered, but it was not with fear. It was with something else entirely – a thrill, a forbidden excitement, a dizzying plunge into the unknown. And I found, to my own surprise, that I didn’t want him to stop. Not at all.
Lee’s hand moved higher, the tip of his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just above my knee. My breath hitched again, the ripple of his touch sending shivers up my spine. I let out a small, nervous laugh, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Lee…” I warned again, but my eyes were locked on his. I was aware, unnervingly so, of the way the silk of my nightie clung to my skin, the way it rode impossibly high, the way it couldn’t hide the heat blooming beneath it all. “Lee, what are—”
Omg his hand was not between my legs and he slowly rubbed in slow circles on my clit. “Lee…” I tried to say, the name barely a whisper, a fragile plea caught between my desire and fear. He shouldn’t be touching me, there.
“Let me lay you down,” he said as he laid me down on the couch, I saw the outline of his hard cock against his jeans oh my I knew exactly what he wanted. But I am his mum and I am not stopping him, what is wrong with me.
He then instantly put is head between my legs and started munching away at my cunt. “Lee…” I gasped, the sound escaping my throat like a strangled cry. “Fuck, you shouldn’t be eating me out ahhh fuck… Your dad… your dad never goes down on me.”
Lee’s tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive flesh of my labia, parting them gently to expose the pink, glistening interior. I groaned as I felt Lee’s tongue delve deeper into my pussy, his lips wrapping around my clit and sucking gently. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wider as he feasted on me like a starving man.
“Fuck, Lee…” I gasped, my hips bucking involuntarily against his face. “You shouldn’t be doing this…it’s wrong…” But even as I said the words, I knew they were a lie. It felt too good to stop him. Too right.
“Oh god, Lee…” I moaned loudly, no longer caring if anyone heard. “Your tongue…it feels so good…” My legs trembled, wrapping around his head as I held him in place. He responded by slipping a finger inside me, pumping it in and out while his tongue continued its assault on my clit. “Ahh honey… we… we shouldn’t be doing this… ok lick me out but… no sex you hear me. I am your… mum.”
He stopped licking me out and looked at me, “wait but what about me. I am getting you off what about me.” Then I heard his zipper go, “come on mum I am so hard.”
“Okay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “But we have to be quiet. Your dad can’t know about this.” Lee nodded eagerly, his hand already working to free his erection from the confines of his jeans. I watched as he pulled it out, long and thick and impossibly hard. My mouth watered at the sight, and I felt a fresh surge of arousal between my legs. Omg he had a bigger dick than his dad, good thing he was at work.
He got between my legs and he put each of my legs over his shoulders. I felt his cock head push into me as he parted my labia and yes he was inside my pussy. He started thrusting slowly, savouring the feeling of my wet warmth surrounding him. His hands gripped my hips tightly, pulling me closer with each thrust. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, trying to remain quiet even as pleasure coursed through me.
“Your… your pussy feels so good,” he said pumping his dick in and out of me as he stared at my cleavage. He stretched the neckline of my nightie and my boobs popped out. His cock slamming at the right angle at the same time grabbing one of my big breasts and sucked on it. I was still shocked that my own son was shagging me on the family couch.
I could hear how sloppy my pussy sounded with each inward thrust Lee gave me. I held his head to my breast as I moaned feeling his cock pounding into my cunt. I moaned like a bitch on heat, “Ah fuck yeah… harder baby. Naughty… naughty naughty boy taking your mum like this.”
Lee’s hips snapped forward, driving his thick cock deeper into my soaked pussy.He groaned against my breast, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through me. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my hips, holding me in place as he pounded into me with increasing fervor.
“Yes, fuck yes,” I hissed, my nails raking down his back. “Harder, baby. Show your mum what a big boy you are.”
“Fuck, mum…look at your pussy taking my cock.” He thrust forward again, harder this time, and I cried out at the intense pleasure. I looked down between my legs and watched his dick pounding in and out of my wet pussy.
Lee’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, dark with lust as he watched my reactions. He pulled out suddenly, leaving me empty and aching. Before I could protest, he flipped me over onto my stomach, pulling my hips up so that I was on my knees, my ass in the air. I felt his hands grip my cheeks, spreading them apart. Then his tongue was on me again, licking from my clit up to my asshole and back down.
“Oh god,” I gasped, burying my face in the couch cushions to muffle my moans. His tongue felt incredible, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.
He circled my clit with the tip of his tongue before plunging it inside me again and again. Just as I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he pulled away. He pushed is cock back inside my pussy, this time doggystyle.
Lee’s thick cock stretched me wide as he slammed into me from behind, his hips smacking against my ass with each powerful thrust. I gripped the couch cushions tightly, my knuckles turning white as I tried to keep myself grounded.
“Fuck, mum,” Lee grunted, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. “Arrgh fuck, you feel so good mum.”
“Ahh honey… ahh,” I moaned as he speeded up. My boy was fucking my cunt, his dick inside of me.
Lee’s thrusts became more urgent, his breathing ragged. I could feel his cock throbbing inside me, getting closer to the edge. “Mum… I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum, fuck I don’t wanna cum yet I am loving this,” he gasped out.
I moaned loudly as he thrust faster and harder into me. His hands gripped my hips tightly as he slammed into me one last time and held himself deep inside. I could feel his cock throbbing and pulsing as he shot his load into my waiting cunt.
“Ahhh fuck!” Lee cried out as he came hard, he started to pump his load into the back of my pussy.
Lee slowly pulls out of me, his cock slipping out with a wet plop. I collapse onto the couch, panting heavily, my body trembling with the aftershocks of our intense encounter. Lee stands up, his jeans still unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips. I can see the outline of his still-hard dick through the fabric. “Mum…”he starts, his voice hoarse. “That was… fuck, that was incredible. “He runs a hand through his hair, looking at me with a mix of satisfaction and disbelief.
I sit up slowly, pulling my nightie back into place. My legs are shaking slightly as I stand on wobbly knees. “Lee…” I begin, but I’m not sure what to say. What do you say to your son after he’s just fucked you senseless on the living room couch? “You better not telling anyone about this. Oh fuck you tired your poor mum out.”
“Don’t worry, Mum,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret.” He stepped closer to me, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek. I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
When I opened them again, I saw the desire burning in his gaze. “But I have to say,” he continued, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine. The realization that this had been on his mind for who knows how long made the whole situation even more taboo and exciting.
“Wait. Omg really?” I breathed, my voice barely audible. “You been wanting to…” I didn’t know what to say, he’s been thinking about fucking me.
Lee’s eyes darkened with lust as he nodded slowly. “Yeah, Mum. I’ve thought about it a lot. Seeing you around the house, wearing those tight clothes, bending over… fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze intense. “I couldn’t help but imagine what you’d look like underneath.”
His words sent a thrill through me, a mix of shock and arousal. I had no idea he felt that way, had been thinking those things. It was wrong, so wrong, but hearing it from him made me feel desired in a way I hadn’t in years.
“So what now?” I asked softly, my voice trembling slightly. “We just… go back to normal?” Lee stepped closer, his hand sliding down to grip my hip possessively. “Do you want to go back to normal?” he murmured, his face inches from mine. “Because I don’t think I can pretend this didn’t happen.”
“What about your dad?” is that all I could say, I should be disgusted with him.
Lee looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “Dad? What about him?” He sounded genuinely puzzled, as if the question was absurd. “I haven’t heard him giving you it in months. I am not stupid my room is next to yours and dads.”
He was right; I hadn’t been getting any satisfaction from my husband for a long time. We had fallen into a routine of just going through the motions, sexless and distant. But hearing Lee say it out loud, seeing the disappointment and anger in his eyes, made me realize just how much I had been neglecting my own needs. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.
“I… I didn’t realize it was that obvious,” I mumbled, feeling a mix of guilt and embarrassment.
I took a deep breath, trying to process everything that had just happened. The realization that Lee had wanted this for so long, that he had been watching me, fantasizing about me… it was a lot to take in. But as I looked at him, saw the desire still burning in his eyes, I felt a spark of something ignite within me.
“You know,” I said, my voice low and husky, “I’ve been feeling a bit… neglected lately. Your dad and I, we just don’t… connect like we used to.” I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest as I continued. “Maybe it’s time we started exploring our own desires, our own needs.”
Lee’s eyes widened, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You mean… you want to keep doing this?” He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek.
I nodded, my heart racing with anticipation. “Yes, Lee. I want to keep exploring this, with you.” I leaned into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through me at his proximity. “But we have to be careful. We can’t let anyone find out.”
Lee’s eyes darkened with lust as he pulled me closer, his hand sliding down to grip my hip. “Don’t worry, Mum,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “We’ll be very, very careful.”
Few weeks later and what weeks they were as we fucked everytime is dad was out. That is my story disgusting I know but god he was so good at screwing me.