The morning sun, usually, I’m all for it, but this morning? It felt like a damn spotlight, right on my face, accusing me of something. “Ugh, mmmm,” I mumbled, trying to get back under the covers. My lower stomach was cramping, a heavy ache, and sleep was just… not happening. Dragging myself back to reality, I squinted my eyes open.
My bedroom, usually my safe space, felt all wrong, twisted. Nausea rolled in, making my head spin. And then I saw him.
Mike. My son.
He was right on top of me, all angles and muscles in the harsh morning light. Was he… moving? His face was all tight, strained, a weird mix of… was that pleasure? Or maybe he was as freaked out as I was? My brain was struggling to catch up, to make sense of what the hell was happening.
I looked down, and my breath hitched. My panties were shoved to the side, like some discarded wrapper on the rumpled sheets – classy, right? And there it was. His… his dick. Sliding in and out of me, fast, hard, like he was trying to break me. The sounds in the room… Jesus. That wet, slapping sound of skin on skin, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, and this low, animal moan that felt like it was shaking the bed. Was that really coming from him? From my son?
“Oh my G-,” I choked out, the words stuck in my throat. A strangled sound of pure panic and disbelief. My son was fucking me. In my bed. In my own damn house. “W-what are… you… ahhh fuck, what are you doing?” Did he even hear me?
He didn’t stop. Didn’t even seem to register I’d said anything. His eyes were glazed over like he was staring at something a million miles away. His body was just going, like a machine on autopilot. Slap, slap, slap. Flesh hitting flesh. His chest hit mine with a thud. His breathing was ragged and desperate. Was this really happening? Was this my life now?
Then, finally, he slowed down. Stopped. His weight was still pressing down on me, heavy, suffocating. He looked up then, and his face… damn, it was a mess. Confusion, shame, desperation, and was that… fear? All fighting it out on his face.
“Want me to pull out?” he asked, voice all thick and rough like he’d been gargling gravel. His dick was still buried deep inside me, a foreign, huge presence. Had it really been years since I’d felt a man inside me? Years since I’d felt this… this weight, this pressure? God, it felt…
My mind screamed at me. Push him off! Scream! Call the police! But my body… traitorous bitch, it just lay there. Frozen. Shocked. And… something else. A weird, unwelcome flicker deep inside. Was that… arousal? Seriously?
“N-no,” I stammered, the word barely even a whisper. “Keep going.” What the hell was wrong with me? Did I really just say that? Keep going? My head was spinning, a tornado of crazy thoughts. Shock, disgust, disbelief, and that awful, undeniable heat spreading through my body. It was sick. Wasn’t it?
Mike’s eyes went wide, surprised. Like he couldn’t believe he’d heard right. He hesitated for a second like he was waiting for me to take it back, to scream, to finally snap out of it and make him stop. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. Would I?
Then, he started moving again, harder this time. Like he’d been holding back before, and now… now the brakes were off. That confusion, that hesitation, it was gone, replaced by something raw, hungry.
“Are… are you sure, Mom?” he gasped, breath coming in his pants, his voice thick with… was that desperation? He needed me to say it again. To confirm I wasn’t going to suddenly freak out. Did he want me to stop him?
I squeezed my eyes shut. Couldn’t look at his face. My body was a goddamn traitor, throbbing, responding to every move he made, this awful heat building inside me. Each thrust was a shock, a violation, but… fuck, it felt good. That forbidden pleasure, deep down in my pussy. Years of nothing, of being alone, of shutting down. And now this. This crazy, wrong, amazing thing.
“Just… just keep going,” I whispered again, voice shaky, lost in the storm of sensations. Please, just keep going.
He went harder, faster. The rhythm picked up, wilder now, more demanding. I could feel the heat coming off him, sweat making our skin slick, sticking us together in this messed-up, intimate way. My own control started to slip. Years of being ‘good,’ of being ‘responsible,’ it was all melting away, washed away by this tsunami of lust. This wasn’t right. But… did I even care anymore?
A moan ripped out of me, and this time, it wasn’t protest. It was pure, raw pleasure. A release. A fuck-it-all kind of sound. My hands, which had been clenched tight in fists, reached up, and grabbed onto his shoulders, nails digging in. I wrapped my legs around his back, pulling him in tighter, arching my back, begging him for more without saying a word.
“Oh, Mom,” he groaned, voice thick with guilt and… yeah, ecstasy. “You feel so good.”
“Ahh honey, you’re so big,” I breathed out, surprised at how easily the words came. He felt bigger than his dad ever did. Was this really happening? My 51-year-old body taking my 18-year-old son’s cock. Shouldn’t I be freaking out? But all I wanted was… more.
“Harder,” I gasped, the word ripped from my throat. “Fuck me harder, Mike.” Was that me? Had I really just said that?
He didn’t need to be told twice. He slammed into me, harder, deeper, faster. The sounds in the room went crazy – the frantic slapping of our bodies, his ragged breathing, my moans getting louder, wilder. The bed frame started creaking, groaning like it was about to give way under us. It was insane. But I didn’t care. I closed my eyes, just let go, let the lust take over, carry me away to someplace where there was no right or wrong, just this… this feeling.
“Oh, Mom,” he panted, voice strained. “You feel so tight… so good.” He shifted his weight, pushing even deeper, stretching me open. A sound like a whimper, or maybe a growl, escaped my lips. Was he going to stop? Please, no.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, voice hoarse, body shaking. “Please, don’t stop.” And then it started. This building pressure, deep inside, a tightening in my core, like something was about to explode. Was this… was this it?
He must’ve felt it too. His movements went even more frantic, desperate. He leaned down, hot breath on my neck, whispered right in my ear, “I’m gonna cum, Mom. I’m gonna cum inside you.” Did he mean it? Inside me?
Those words, so raw, so shocking, sent a jolt of electricity right through me. My pussy clenched, muscles squeezing tight, waiting. The pressure built, tighter and tighter, like a coiled spring.
“Yes,” I gasped, barely able to speak. “Do it. Do it now.” Did I really want him to? Was I really saying yes to this? But it was too late to stop. Way too late.
And then he came. A series of hard shudders ripped through his body. His movements went jerky, out of control. He groaned, a long, guttural sound of release that vibrated right through me. I felt it then, his cum, hot and thick, spurting deep inside me, filling me up with… with what? Something forbidden. Something dangerous.
And right then, I came too. It hit me like a wave, a rush of pure, intense orgasm that ripped through me. My body bucked, arched off the bed, muscles clenching and releasing in these crazy spasms. I screamed, a loud, wild cry that was part pain, part pleasure, part pure, unbelievable shock. What had we just done? And… did I want to do it again?