I trudged into the house, my boots scuffing the hardwood as I tried to slip past the living room unnoticed. No chance, though—Lila, my mom, had ears like a damn hawk.
“Ethan!” her voice sliced through the air from the couch, sharp and teasing. “Get your ass in here, now!” I groaned under my breath, already bracing myself. Lately, she’d been on my case nonstop—nagging about crumbs on the counter, a sock left on the floor, shit that didn’t even matter. Last week, she chewed me out for leaving a plate in the sink. Before that, it was the thermostat being one degree off. I was over it.
Steeling myself, I stepped into the room. There she was, sprawled on the couch, legs crossed, her tight yoga pants hugging every curve of those toned thighs. Her tank top strained against her full chest, and she tilted her head at me, smirking like she owned me.
“Guess what you fucked up this morning, huh?” she said, voice dripping with that mocking tone I knew too well. I shrugged, hands shoved in my pockets.
“You left the butter out, genius,” she snapped, eyes narrowing. “It’s melted all over the counter now!”
“The butter?” I barked, incredulous. “That’s what you’re losing your shit over?”
“Yeah, the butter!” she fired back, leaning forward, her cleavage spilling just enough to catch my eye. “It’s a damn mess!”
“Are you kidding me? All you do is bitch about nothing!” I shouted, heat rising in my chest.
“It’s wasteful, Ethan!” she huffed, crossing her arms under those heavy tits.
“I’ll buy more fucking butter, alright?” I stormed out, her voice chasing me with some bullshit about coming back. I didn’t care. Up in my room, I slammed the door and dropped onto the bed, fists clenched. She’d been riding me for months, and I was done taking it.
What pissed me off more? She was hiding something. A few weeks back, I’d caught emails on her laptop from some dude named “Mark.” Flirty at first—just drinks and giggles about work crap. But it got hotter fast. One night, they’d met up, kissed, and swapped winks and smirks over email the next day. I’d asked her straight up at breakfast if she was seeing anyone. “No,” she’d lied, cool as ice, telling me to butt out. So I didn’t. I kept digging.
The emails turned filthy. Motel meetups. Mark pinned her down, fucking her raw while she begged for it. She loved being his little slut, she wrote. My dick twitched just reading it, imagining her splayed out, legs wide, dripping for him. She was hot as hell—long blonde hair, a tight ass, tits that bounced when she walked, barely forty and built like a wet dream. My dad split years ago, so I didn’t care if she fucked around. I cared that she lied to my face.
Today, though, I’d had enough. She wanted to play games? I’d flip the board. I yanked open my laptop, pulled up her email, and there it was—more from Mark. She’d invited him over tomorrow when her “lazy son” was gone. That stung. I grinned, dark and slow. Time to take control.
I spoofed my email to look like Mark’s, mimicking his dirty style. “Can’t stop thinking about pinning you down, fucking you senseless,” I typed. “Love how you’re my slut. Tomorrow, I’m free. Be on your bed, the hottest lingerie you got. Door unlocked. Blindfold on. I’m gonna ruin you, and you won’t even see it coming.” Sent.
Her reply hit fast. “God, Mark, I’m soaked just reading this. Yes, tomorrow—fuck me however you want. I’ll be ready.” My cock throbbed against my jeans. She was mine now.
The next evening, I played it smoothly. She kept asking when I’d be back from “hanging with friends.” I shrugged, left at dusk, and circled the block. When it was dark, I crept back. The door was unlocked, just like I’d said. My hands shook as I climbed the stairs, stripping to my boxers outside her room. One deep breath and I pushed the door open.
There she was—my mom, laid out like a fucking feast. A red satin chemise clung to her, the hem barely kissing her thighs, her tits spilling over the lace trim. Black panties peeked out, and her legs shifted, rubbing together, smooth and restless. The blindfold—black silk—hid her eyes, just as I’d ordered. Her fingers twitched on her stomach, waiting.
I stepped in, heat rolling off her body hitting me like a wave. The air smelled of her—sweat, skin, a hint of perfume. She turned her head at my footsteps.
“Mark?” she whispered, voice trembling with want. I didn’t answer, just stalked to the bed, eyes locked on her. Her chest heaved, nipples poking through the satin.
“Mark, I feel you,” she purred, legs parting slightly. I knelt at her feet, breath hot against her skin. She gasped, toes curling as I ran my hands up her calves—soft as velvet, trembling under my palms. My chest pressed her feet down as I stretched higher, gripping her thick thighs. She moaned, low and needy, arching against the bed.
“Fuck, Mark,” she whimpered. I slid between her legs, hands slipping under the chemise, finding her hips. My fingers dug into her ass—round, firm, begging to be squeezed. I kneaded her, wrists shoving the satin up, exposing those black panties. She bucked ass clenching in my grip, a shiver racing up her spine.
I lowered my face, breathing hard against her inner thigh. “Oh, you’re killing me,” she groaned, spreading wider. My nose brushed the edge of her panties—damp, musky, intoxicating. I kissed the fabric, tasting her through it, and she whined, hips rocking for more.
Climbing up, I dragged my chest over her soaked crotch, feeling her twitch beneath me. Her lips parted, panting, blindfold still tight. I ground my hips into hers, boxers barely holding my rock-hard cock. She was dripping—wetness seeping through, slicking me up.
“God, fuck me, Mark, please,” she begged, legs thrashing. I smirked, voice low, “Not yet.” Shit—almost blew it. She didn’t catch it, just gasped, “Tease! I need you inside me!”
My cock pulsed, straining, the tip nudging her pussy through the thin layers. I grabbed her wrists, tying them to the headboard with a scarf from her drawer—tight, but not cruel. She was mine now, helpless and panting.
I yanked the chemise up, slow, savouring it. Her tits spilt free—full, round, nipples pink and hard. I flicked my tongue over one, sucking till it peaked, then pinched the other. She squirmed, moaning into the air, tongue darting over her lips.
Stripping my boxers, I straddled her chest, cock throbbing, hot against her skin. “What’s that?” she teased, smirking. I rubbed the tip over her chin, then her lips. She opened wide, tongue flicking out, lapping at my swollen head. “Mmm, fuck, you taste good,” she murmured, sucking me in.
I groaned—quiet, careful—feeding her more. Her mouth was warm, wet, and greedy, sliding down my shaft. Precum dripped, and she swallowed it, head bobbing, lips stretched around me. My hand cupped her cheek, guiding her as she took me deep, spit shining on my cock.
I pulled out, strands of drool snapping between us. “Now—fuck me!” she choked, gagging on her own need. I slid down, peeling her panties off—sodden, clinging to her pussy. She spread wide, her slit glistening, pink and swollen, begging for me.
I hovered, cock brushing her folds. She bucked, desperate, so I gagged her with those wet panties—stuffed them in, knotting them behind her head. She moaned, muffled, tasting herself. Then I sank in—slow, deliberate. Her pussy was tight, hot, sucking me in. “Mmph!” she cried, legs splaying.
I thrust deeper, burying myself, grinding against her clit. “So fucking big,” she mumbled through the gag. I pulled back, her juices coating me, then slammed in again—harder, faster. Her tits bounced wild, nipples taut, as I pounded her, sucking one into my mouth.
Her pussy clenched tighter, wetter, every thrust a slick, filthy sound. I ripped the blindfold off, locking eyes with her. Shock hit her face—pupils blown wide, mouth frozen around the gag. “Ethan?!” she garbled, but I didn’t stop, grinning wickedly.
She thrashed, panicked, but her body betrayed her—hips still rocking, pussy still dripping. I pinned her legs up, knees to her chest, spreading her wide. “You’re mine now, Mom,” I growled, hammering into her throbbing core. Her swollen lips parted around me, slick and quivering, as I fucked her senseless.
“Fuck, your pussy’s perfect,” I snarled, watching her tits slap against her chest. She moaned—helpless, wrecked, and loving it.
Mom’s eyes were wild, darting between shock and something darker—lust, maybe, or surrender—as I kept pounding into her. Her muffled cries vibrated through the gag, those soaked panties stuffed in her mouth, and her body shook under me. Sweat glistened on her skin, trickling down her neck, pooling between her heaving tits. Her pussy gripped me like a vice, hot and slick, her swollen lips splaying open around my cock with every brutal thrust. The sound of it—wet, sloppy smacks—filled the room, mixing with her choked moans.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I growled, voice rough as I pinned her thighs higher, folding her in half. Her ass lifted off the bed, giving me a perfect view of her dripping hole—pink and pulsing, stretched wide around my throbbing shaft. The veins on my cock stood out, slick with her juices, and I could feel every twitch of her walls as I slammed in deep. Her clit was swollen, peeking out from its hood, begging for attention, but I didn’t touch it—not yet. I wanted her wrecked first.
She squirmed, wrists tugging against the scarf binding her to the headboard, but she wasn’t fighting to get free. No, her hips rocked up to meet me, greedy for more, even as her eyes screamed confusion. “Mmph—Ethan!” she garbled again, spit bubbling around the gag. I smirked, leaning down to bite her nipple—hard enough to make her arch, soft enough to keep her wanting. Her tit bounced in my mouth, warm and heavy, the skin tasting of salt and her.
“You like this, don’t you?” I rasped, pulling back to watch her face twist—half shame, half need. Her blonde hair stuck to her forehead, messy and damp, framing those wide, pleading eyes. I thrust harder, my balls slapping against her ass, the bed creaking under us. Her pussy sucked me in deeper, juices dripping down her crack, staining the sheets. “Look at you—dripping wet for your son.”
She groaned, low and guttural, her body trembling as I picked up the pace. My cock plunged into her aching gash, relentless, the friction burning hot between us. Her folds parted wider, glistening with sweat and cum, and I could see every detail—her labia flushed dark pink, quivering, her entrance clenching around me like it couldn’t let go. I slid a hand down, thumb brushing her clit, and she bucked hard, a strangled scream tearing through the gag.
“Fuck, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” I taunted, circling that sensitive nub slowly and firmly. Her thighs shook, her muscles tensing, and her pussy clamped down so tight I nearly lost it right there. I pulled out just to the tip—my cock glistening, coated in her slick—and slammed back in, burying myself to the hilt. Her whole body jolted, her tits bouncing wildly, and I felt her shatter. Her orgasm hit like a wave, her walls pulsing around me, hot juice gushing out, soaking my shaft and thighs.
“Shit, that’s it,” I grunted, riding her through it, my thrusts sloppy now, chasing my edge. She was a mess—sweat-drenched, panting, her pussy still twitching as I fucked her harder. The room stank of sex—her musk, my sweat, the wet tang of her cum. I ripped the gag out, tossing the drenched panties aside, and her voice broke free, raw and desperate.
“Ethan—oh God, fuck me!” she gasped, tongue lolling, lips shiny with drool. I grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at me as I pounded her senselessly. Her eyes rolled back, moans spilling out—loud, filthy, unrestrained. “Harder—please, harder!”
I obliged, gripping her hips so tight my fingers left red marks, slamming into her with everything I had. Her pussy was a soaked mess, slurping around me, and the sound—fuck, it was obscene. Skin slapped skin, wet and rhythmic, and her cries turned to sobs of pleasure. “Yes—yes—fuck, Ethan!” she wailed, another orgasm ripping through her, her body convulsing under me.
I couldn’t hold it anymore. My cock throbbed, my balls tightening, and I pulled out fast. “Fuck, Mom—gonna cum all over you,” I snarled, stroking myself once, twice. Hot ropes of semen shot out, splattering her tits, her stomach, dripping down her sides. She moaned, arching into it, letting it paint her like a claim. My cock pulsed, emptying everything I had, and I collapsed beside her, chest heaving.
“What the fuck, Ethan?” Mom hissed, her voice ragged as I untied the scarf from her wrists. She sat up, rubbing her raw skin, eyes blazing.
“You… you tricked me!” I smirked, lounging back on the bed, cock still slick with her cum.”Yeah, I did. And you loved every second of it.” She glared, but I could see the flush on her cheeks, the way her thighs were still pressed together.”That doesn’t make it okay!”
“Doesn’t make it not okay either,” I shot back. “You wanted it. Hell, you were practically begging for it.”
Mom opened her mouth, then closed it, biting her lip. She looked away, but not before I caught the hint of a smile. “I can’t believe you, I thought you were Mark,” she muttered, but there was no heat in it.
Mom turned to me, eyes blazing. “Ethan, what the hell is wrong with you? How could you do something like this?” She scrambled off the bed, yanking the sheet around herself. I sat up, grinning.
“C’mon, Mom, you loved it. I could feel how much you wanted it.”
“Wanted it?” She stared at me, aghast.”You tricked me! I thought you were Mark!”
“So?” I shrugged. “I’m not him, I’m your son. And you still wanted it. You still begged me to fuck you.”
“Don’t you dare…” Her voice shook, but she couldn’t hide the flush on her cheeks, the way her thighs pressed together. “That’s sick, Ethan. We can’t… I can’t…”I stood, letting her see every inch of me—my cock still hard, glistening with her cum.
“Why not? You’re a grown woman. You’re hot as fuck. And I’m a grown man. We both wanted it. So what’s the problem?” She shook her head, backing away.
“It’s… it’s wrong. You’re my son!”I followed her, closing the distance.
“And? That just makes it hotter, doesn’t it?” I reached out, cupping her face. She flinched but didn’t pull away. “Admit it, Mom. You liked having my cock inside you. You liked being my slutty little mommy.” She shuddered, her eyes falling to my lips.
“I… I shouldn’t have…” But she didn’t finish, didn’t pull back.
I leaned in, my mouth hovering over hers. My limp-drained cock resting against her. “Say it, Mom. Say you liked it. Say my cocks better than Marks.”
“I… no… I mean, Oh God, Ethan, we can’t do this! I can’t believe this happened! You’re my son! We can’t have sex again! This was a mistake! A one-time thing!” She got dressed and stood at the window just staring outside as it started to rain.
“It’s just… this is wrong, Ethan. So wrong. You’re my son. I shouldn’t have… we can’t…” She trailed off, looking away again.
I stepped closer, tilting her chin up to face me. “We can, Mom. And we will. You want this as much as I do. Admit it.”
She shook her head, but her body language told a different story. Her nipples were hard beneath her robe, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.”No, I can’t… we can’t…” But her words lacked conviction.
That night we talked and talked, and then we ended up having sex all night. I woke the following morning next to her, she was stroking my hair. “Morning big boy.”