One I cobbled together. It’s just for fun, hence voting and comments are disabled. There will be typos and errors in the text because it’s straight off the keyboard. No edits or reads-through, etc. I hope you still enjoy the scene regardless of fuck-ups.
It’s kinda my usual gig: blonde, big boobs mother and her son.
Anyway. Thanks for reading.
Oh, there are more scenes following on.
GA – Cambridgeshire, UK – 1st October 21
“They’re only tits.”
The heat rose in my face because that statement told me she’d caught me looking.
My mother chuckled when I started with: “I wasn’t–” Then she cut me off.
“Oh, Danny, you bloody-well-were.”
Chagrin squeezed my guts as my cheeks burned hotter.
“I’m sorry,” I said, humiliated. “I didn’t mean it,” I added, starting to babble. “It’s just you’ve lost so much weight … You know…? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before … You look different … It’s not like I was … I mean…”
“It’s not my jeans you were gawking at,” my mother said through a grin.
The expression on her face was a surprise. I didn’t expect it. Anger, perhaps. Disappointment, maybe. Something other than a wry grin and the amusement I heard in her tone.
“But I suppose parading about in a bikini top is a bit too much,” my mother went as she glanced down at her own frontage. “‘Specially when it’s a couple of seasons too small. Funny,” she said, confronting me with her stare. “But they haven’t shrunk, you know, now I’ve I lost all that weight like you said.”
She worked the dial of weirdness around by turning to show off her rump, even tilting forward a little at the waist to thrust her bottom towards me.
“But my arse is all toned,” my mother said while she looked at me over one shoulder. “Thousands and thousands of squats … Probably millions.” She smoothed a palm over the denim. “Tell me, Danny,” she said through the grin. “What do you think? Nice arse, or what?”
I couldn’t respond. I just stood there and gawked.
“Well, I’d better go and change,” my mother said after a few seconds of looking at me.
My heart was leaping inside the cage of my ribs when my mother walked away, rounded buttocks encased in faded denim a magnet for my eyes.
***
The following day it was a canary yellow dress, an expanse of tanned decolletage on display, the hem at a flattering point on her thighs.
I was out on the terrace at the back of the house, in shorts because it was another warm day. My mother had mentioned the lawn needed mowing, so I was out there assessing the task, thinking about getting the ride-on out of the shed when she moved in behind me.
“Lovely day,” my mother said when I turned.
My eyes went to her cleavage, drawn there because she wasn’t wearing a bra.
As soon as I looked, my mother drawled: “God, my tits, again?”
“I’m not checking you out,” I said.
My mother rolled her eyes. “So you keep saying.”
“I’m not. It’s not my fault you’re wearing that dress. No bra. It’s like you want me to perv.”
It came out of me sounding angry because I was on the defensive, some guilt in there too.
I gaped at her when my mother smirked and said: “Well, you’re young and fit, good-looking, too. If you weren’t my son…”
She paused and held her lower lip between her teeth for a coupe of seconds, eyes flashing mischief.
“I probably wouldn’t mind you perving,” she finished.
Sensations bubbled inside me, a reaction to the vixen expression and eye-flirting my mother sent my way. Desire surged down in my root as my cock thickened and grew.
“If you weren’t my mum I probably would,” I said, with no idea where the words came from.
What followed was a pivotal, life-changing pause, several moments in which we stared at each other, me in shock because I couldn’t believe what I’d just said.
Then, as the atmosphere crackled and fizzed, the glorious English summer morning fading like a dream effect in a film, my mother canted her head towards one shoulder, her gaze holding mine.
Time stretched elastic when she murmured: “Hmm, well, the thing is, Danny … I don’t mind if you perv. Even if you are my son.”
I gulped, swallowing down on the feelings rising within.
My mother sighed when I managed to croak: “Mum…”
Then she said: “No, don’t say anything, Danny,” with some force in the words. “Let me look at you, darling. I mean, in those shorts, my God but you’re a glorious boy.”
It felt like steel bands around my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I was staring at my other, mind full of confusion and disbelief as she looked me up and down, feral huger in her face.
“I can’t believe you came from me,” my mother continued as she stepped in front of me. “That lovely, chest … Your arms … God, sweetheart, you’ve turned into a beautiful man.”
My mother sighed it out, palms against my body as she felt my stomach, hands moving up to my chest.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked at me yesterday,” she said, low and quiet like she was lost in the mists of her own thoughts.
Her eyes were vacant, as though her mind was a ling away, her touch on my biceps as she squeezed with her fingers.
“My tits,” my mother breathed.
I blurted in shock when, with calm purpose, she stepped back one pace, fingers at the bodice as she yanked it down to expose her big breasts.
“Look at them, Danny,” she crooned, expression tight and intent. “Mummy’s big tits…”
As she said it, my mother hefted her boobs, tips of her forefingers teasing button nipples in the centre of saucer-sized areolae.
“Take your shorts off,” she said, snapping it like a command.
“Mum,” I gurgled.
“Now,” my mother insisted, stepping in to do it herself.
My cock sprang up when my mother shoved my shorts to my knees, the jib more than halfway erect.
“God, you’re built like your father,” I heard her say through sigh. “He’s a big lad as well. Couldn’t keep his dick in his trousers but, well, God, he knew how to fuck.”
She said it as she stepped away another couple of paces, her attention set right on my dick.
“Wank it,” my mother said as she glanced at my face. “Go on,” she urged as I boggled in shock.
“Mum,” I blurted, stunned into stupidity.
“No! Shut up! Don’t say anything, Danny,” my mother put in. “Do it. Do it now. Do it for me.”
I looked at my cock, the heavy downward arc of it twitching to towards a full erection despite the shock and surprise. My mother was staring when I dared to look at hr face, her expression showing wild, desperate need.
It was the look behind her eyes, the untamed desire which set me in motion. I saw her face and felt a rush of dark, illicit wanting squeeze my vitals. Part of my mind, a small section capable of coherent thought recognised the impossibility of the scene. It was a situation I couldn’t have imagined happening, it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be real. My mother just could not be exposing her breasts while she encouraged me to masturbate in front of her.
But there she was, blonde and gorgeous, large boobs exposed, the single most erotic sight of my life.
I gave in to the sensations, ignoring the sliver of logical thought as I touched myself and lust burst within.
“MM, yes, Danny,” my mother crooned when I slowly caressed my length.
“Take that dress of,” I growled, emboldened by hunger to see her body.
As I started to work harder at my cock, I saw a flash of something like fear in my mother’s eyes.
“Oh, Danny,” she breathed.
“No,” I said when she shook her head. “I want to see.”
My mother blinked a couple of times as her mouth opened and closed like she had something to say but wasn’t sure about what words to use. She glanced at my cock and then held her lower lip between her teeth, the gesture more to do with doubt and hesitation than the vixen expression the same action had revealed a short time ago.
When she turned to look over one shoulder, the garden behind her, my mother sighed. “I don’t believe I started this,” I heard her mutter.
Then she looked at me again, determination in her face, demeanour showing she’d made a decision.
My mother stared at me for a couple of beats before she grabbed at the dress and pulled it down.
I gasped when she asked: “You want to see? Hmm? Is this what you want?”
I watched her boobs sway as my mother shoved the dress past her hips, body exposed in an instant, the shock of it a tsunami wave of complex emotions and whirling thoughts.
“There,” my mother said when the dress was pooled around her feet. “Mummy’s all bare.”
I couldn’t absorb all the detail at once. My eyes moved over her feminine shape, her expression a challenge while she stood with her fists on her hips, my focus shifting from her breasts to her vulva, a thin, precise landing strip of severely coiffed pubic hair way down low.
“God, who am I kidding,” my mother muttered as I gawked at her patch. “I did that for you,” she added on a sigh. “I’ve been kidding myself. I said I wouldn’t let this go too far, but, well, I suppose I knew it would.”
Air hissed in through my nose while I tugged at my dick, excitement boiling because I thought my mother was so beautiful.
She grinned when I told her what I was thinking, a quick flash of pleasure and amusement showing on her face before she went serious again.
“Well, thank you for saying that,” Danny,” she said. “I have to admit, I’m a bit out of my depth here. I don’t know what the heck we’re doing right now.”
With the need on me, I moved in closer, yanking my cock as I went.
The hesitation showed on her face when I groaned out: “Can I touch you? Can I touch your tits?”
“I don’t know, Danny,” my mother said.
“Please,” I moaned, close to doing it anyway.
“You shouldn’t push me,” my mother replied as she hefted her breasts with both hands. “But all right, go on,” she said.
I let go of my dick and went in to grab at my mother’s body, the spongy-firm texture under my fingers when I squeezed. I moaned, one hand on my cock so I could excite myself while I savoured the thrill of my mother’s tit-flesh.
She yelped in surprise when I ducked in to suck at a nipples, both hands full of her breasts as I worked at the elongated teats.
“Uh, mum, you’re fucking gorgeous,” I gasped around a mouth full of her body.
“Danny, shit, you’re being very naughty. I didn’t say you could do that.”
My mother said it but didn’t do anything to stop me going at her boobs. She groaned and gasped and even pushed her fingers through my hair while I sucked and licked her tits. As I did it, I kicked my shorts free, naked except for training shoes.
I grunted and nodded when my mother asked: “Danny, are you going to come?”
I was wanking hard by then, arousal bubbling in my root.
“Do it when it’s ready,” I heard my mother say. “I want to see it come out,” she added when I came up from her breasts.
“I want to fuck you,” I growled, wild with desire.
“Oh, baby, no,” my mother said. She was looking at me, eyes wide, face showing a mix of fear and uncertainty. “I think we’ve gone far enough — don’t you?”
She held up a hand in a warding-off gesture, head moving side-to-side when I stepped in a pace.
“I can’t let that happen, Danny,” my mother said. “God, could you imagine how complicated it would be between us if I let you do that to me?”
Lust was boiling inside me. I didn’t care about complications. I was mindless to the future in that moment. For me it was all about my mother’s ripe body and my desperate need to be inside her.
She grimaced and shook her head again when I snarled: “Who give a shit? Mum, please, I have to fuck you. Look at what you did to my cock.”
A few moments followed, several seconds in which reality slewed, a slow-motion sensation settling on me while I watched my mother’s expression shift through at least three different phases. I saw her look down to where my hand was working my size, her mouth falling open as if she was feeling a narcotic shock. Then she squeezed her eyelids closed, lips compressed into a thin, bloodless line while she winced and then quickly shook her head twice more before she muttered something I couldn’t make out, the words strained through clenched teeth.
A I watched, her eyes snapped open, something like anger in her face — or so I thought.
“This is what I’ll do,” my mother snapped, her tone breaking the slow-motion effect. “I’ll wank you off. I’ll do it for you. I’ll use my hand, Danny,” she said as she stepped around me. “But I’m sorry, baby, I just can’t let you fuck me.”
Which is how I found myself standing on the patio at the back of the house, my mother’s frontage pressed against my back, her arm around me so she could use her fist on my girth, the hot stuff spitting forth while I sobbed delight at the sweetness of that release.