“I Love The Sex,” My Mother Groaned

This one started off as an idea which then spiralled into something much longer than I planned. There will be typos and errors in the text because it’s unedited. This scene is as it came off the keyboard, but I hope these errors don’t detract from any enjoyment in reading. I turned off voting and comments because I can’t be arsed with trolling and/or complaining. There’s an element of cuckolding in the scene which seems to upset some readers on Lit. Oh dear, how sad, never mind. This is supposed to e fun. Don’t like the scene? Too bad. Jog on.

Anyway, having said that, I do hope it gives some readers pleasure.

Thanks for reading.

GA – Cambridgeshire, UK – 23 July 21

***

They were fucking her down in the shepherd’s hut. She was on her side, spooning with Mark behind her. She was taking his cock, eager as she worked her hips with urgent, vehement action. Her blouse was loose, unbuttoned, large breasts cantilevered over her bra. By then she had her skirt up to her waist, legs spread, Mark’s hands full of her tits as she looked back at him.

Her lips were moving, she was speaking to Mark. I couldn’t hear what she was saying because the window blocked the sound, but it looked like she was enjoying herself, that she was there because she wanted to be. It was obvious no one had forced her into the scene and, as I watched, she was smiling at Mark, attention shifting to Danny as he stood close by, his cock in his fist.

Danny was stroking his length, eyes set on my mother, lust in his expression.

While Mark continued to work his dick into my mother’s pussy, her vulva hairless, loose labia clinging to Mark’s shaft on the outward strokes, she said something Danny, encouraging him to move in close with a quick curl of one arm and something she said.

I gasped, shocked, appalled, yet paradoxically thrilled to see my own mother taking a fucking while sucking on Danny’s cock.

I’d known something was off for a few days. Danny and Mark had started acting evasive. There was something sly in their faces, tension between us I’d never felt before. It was a feeling I had, just a sense that they were up to something they wanted to keep from me. The suspicion led to some amateur surveillance by me, a clumsy attempt at following I managed to get away with, the mystery deepening as I tracked Danny’s old VW Golf, the route taking us to my house.

They weren’t obvious about it. They had the sense, probably because my mother had told them, to park around the corner and walk back to the house. I managed to park a few doors down from the house, nestled into a gap I’d been lucky to spot and from where I watched them double back, both moving quickly, chatty and gesturing as they went. I saw Danny and Mark ignore the front door, moving instead to the driveway where they skirted the side of the house on their way to the back garden.

Puzzled, I followed after a minute of wondering, carefully following their path, the shepherd’s hut my parents let as an AirBnB at the end of the garden. At first I thought they might have something illicit hidden in the hut, a bit of a reach because none of us were criminal masterminds, my thoughts moving to how they would have included me if they were up to no-good. I paused, glancing around, strange sensations on me because I was the one skulking around when I was the only one with the right to be there. Danny and Mark were the interlopers. Not me. But I still had a sense of the clandestine about me. There was something going on and I knew I had to be sneaky in my approach.

The shock of it hit me like a cold-water wave when I’d crept up to the short balcony and peeped through the window. My brain rebelled, absolutely refused to accept what my eyes were seeing: my two best friends with my mother sandwiched between them, their hands moving over her body as she alternated between kissing them both, tongues swirling, desire obvious in the way my mother snogged their faces while my friends pawed at her tits and buttocks.

I gasped, stunned, confusion whirling as I tried to make sense of it all.

The awful after-image imprinted itself on my mind’s-eye as I ducked down onto the patio, mewling nonsense as the shock went through me. I could see it while I crouched for at least a minute: my mother, my friends, all of them standing, her white blouse unbuttoned, boobs exposed, skirt to her hips. She was wearing old-fashioned stockings, a black suspender belt, and black high-heels, Mark’s fingers between her legs while my mother was craning around to slobber kisses with Danny.

My heart was pounding, hands trembling as I dared to take another look, peeking over the parapet, the action all about the kissing, this time as my mother ski-poled both my friends’ dicks.

I groaned, part of it shock, part of it anger, and part of it a quick ripple of sexual arousal.

I ducked away again, breath coming in short gasps, denial strong inside me.

It couldn’t be true.

It just could not be happening.

During the few seconds I crouched beneath the window, my mind turned over and over. I thought about my mother: kind, sweet, generous. Always quick to laugh. Bright and good fun. I recognised she was pretty. Despite her being my mother, I knew, in a vague, distant, non-sexual way, that she had a certain aesthetic appeal as well as an engaging personality. She wasn’t any skinny young thing. My mother was ripe and voluptuous. Not exactly fat, but she did have a couple of layers of good living padding her body. Nevertheless, there was a feminine shape to her figure which was attractive. She had the legs, too. I’d seen a couple of tradesmen taking a look on more than one occasion. I’d heard the flirty banter back-and-forth. I was aware my mother was attractive to men, and while Danny and Mark had made comments in the past, I’d had no clue my mother would ever consider entertaining them in a physical, sexual way.

But, there they were, in the shepherd’s hut, kissing and groping, my mother dressed for sex.

That realisation put me in mind of how they must have planned it. It wasn’t anything spontaneous. The white blouse and black skirt were clothes she’d wear to work. They were a simple corporate uniform. But high-heels and stockings? I didn’t think they were usual for her.

Then I thought abut my dad, the anger bubbling inside me because my mother was showing herself to be a faithless bitch.

Not only that, she was taking on two of them at the same time.

“Jesus, fuck,” I sighed, stunned to realise my own mother was a slut.

The next peep over the sill was where my mother was taking Mark’s cock. They were on the green sofa almost square on to the window, all of it plain to see. My mother’s weight was on one hip and an elbow, Mark’s hand on her hip as he worked her back onto his dick, his other hand under my mother’s angled torso, tit-flesh spilling over his fingers. Mark had his eyes closed, a grimace of pleasure twisting his face as my mother looked up to Danny, her expression all about smiling delight.

Then Danny’s girth was stretching my mother’s lips, her hand working his cock down at its root.

I spent the next twenty minutes alternating between peering into the hut and crouching on the wooden boards of the patio. My mind whirled, confusion swirling, impressions and sensations mixed into it all. I felt sick, angry at the awfulness of what my mother was doing with my friends. I thought about busting it up. I could barge in, yelling and full of rage. I could vent as they blabbered apologies and shock. I could spit and snarl, maybe get in a punch or two.

I thought about it all: my mother’s wobbling tits and the condom tight around Danny’s cock as my mother rode him in the cowgirl position, her mouth busy on Mark. I thought about where my father must be right in that moment, oblivious to his wife sucking and fucking two boys the same age as her son.

When I looked again, my mother’s mouth was hanging open, eyes closed, head lolling loose as Mark fucked at her in the doggy style. He was giving her the good news, holding her hips, pelvis working as he went hard at my mother. I groaned in despair and that weird surge of sexual longing. She was my mother, but it excited me to see her with my friends. Her big tits swung, the spare flesh at her hips rippling as Mark curled in low over her back, his teeth grazing the nape of my mother’s neck.

My mother used straight arms to fuck back onto Mark as he cupped her breasts, her face showing her need as she bared her teeth and snarled something back at Mark over one shoulder. Then they were kissing as Danny stood and wanked at his dick, fist moving quickly, the bulb squeezed into the condom.

As I watched, I saw Mark kneel upright, his palm slapping my mother’s bottom with three quick slaps, his face tilting to the ceiling.

“Shit,” I muttered when it hit me that Mark was losing himself into the condom.

He was coming, face showing the tension, hips moving as he worked in deep, my mother’s expression showing delight as she craned round to watch.

Mark’s body tensed, muscles going slack as his head drooped forward, the cock slipping free. I stared, transfixed, focus on the shivering teat, the condom heavy with gooey ejaculate.

Then, as Mark slumped onto the sofa, my mother shifted to a sitting position. After that, she spread her legs, reclining, inviting Danny to use her pussy with her arms wide, a smile on her face.

Danny didn’t hang around. He was on my mother a moment later, buttocks flexing as he fucked into her opening, her boobs rolling while my mother folded her legs at the knees.

I crouched down, sucking in air, shocked at the sight of Mark’s cum inside the condom and the vehemence in which Danny was going at my mother.

“Oh Jesus,” I groaned, pawing my dick.

My cock was at full tumescence, lust a yawning, hollow void in the pit of my stomach. I felt the urge to masturbate. I needed to come. I wanted to jack my length and feel the joy as the frustration spat from the eye in the bulb.

I squeezed my cock, mind full of my mother’s bare skin and the way her flesh jiggled. It was another shock to know seeing it happen could arouse me in that way. I couldn’t believe my dick was hard, nor could I accept the urgent need to touch myself.

When I looked through the window, I saw Danny had finished. He was standing next to Mark, both of them staring as my mother sat on the sofa, fingers stirring her vulva. I could tell my mother was close. She was going at herself with desperate action, sometimes rubbing her clit while punctuating the action with with two fingers working inside her body, the digits in up to the knuckle. As she fingered and rubbed, my mother mauled her own tits, face a grimace of agonised ecstasy.

I could see she was talking to my friends. My mother’s lips moved, mostly through a snarl, her nose crinkling when she grinned at them. Then I saw her convulse, her cry of delight reaching me as her eyes closed, body in paroxysms of joy as her climax claimed her.

It went on for quite a few seconds. My mother writhed and rubbed, boobs wobbling as she went for the peak.

I was watching as my mother slumped back, limbs loose and floppy, breath going in in chest-heaving gulps as she looked at Danny and Mark.

A short conversation ensued, culminating in Danny and Mark gathering their clothes.

I ducked out of sight, scuttling around the side of the hut, mindful to avoid making noise against the wooden slats o the patio as I went. My heart was still pounding, cock constricted inside my jeans and boxers, head full of near panic as I hid and waited for my friends to make their exit.

I heard voices, snatches of quick, excited conversation while footsteps sounded on the patio, the noise receding as Danny and Mark walked along the path towards the house.

I waited, hands and legs trembling from the adrenalin surge, heart still busy but less frantic than a few minutes before.

Time passed.

A minute.

Two.

My mother didn’t appear, and nor I couldn’t hear any movement within as I slowly, carefully peeked around the corner of the hut.

She came out just as I found the nerve to step closer to the patio.

My mother froze, a quick flash of fear in with the surprise when she saw me.

“Sonny, you gave me a fright,” she said after blurting in surprise.

She was dressed, skirt covering her modesty and that suspender belt, big tits in the bra, blouse buttoned. Her heels pecked at the patio boards as my mother shifted position, honey-blonde hair framing her face a little dishevelled, eyes on my face.

“Just checking the hut,” my mother lied.

I saw the guilt in her expression as she glanced back to the scene of the crime. She was carrying a small leather handbag in one hand, her mobile phone and the key to the hut in the other.

My mother’s diction was all English home counties. She went to some decent schools because my maternal grandparents had some money. My dad is more down-to-Earth Essex, like me and my sister.

When she fixed her attention back to me, my mother asked: “What are you doing here, Sonny?”

“I just saw Danny and Mark,” I said, not knowing I was going to say it.

My mother’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, did you?”

She was trying hard at innocence, demeanour cool and casual.

I nodded, suddenly full of anger, motivated by that surge of emotion that I wanted to test my mother. I wanted to see her squirm.

My mother shrugged when I asked: “What were they doing here?”

She sighed and looked at me. “Oh, Sonny,” she said.

I shrugged. “What? Why say it like that?”

“You’ll spoil the surprise,” my mother said.

I gawked at her.

“Surprise?”

My mother nodded. “Mm-hmm. Your birthday,” she said.

“That’s next month,” I said.

“Yes, and you’ll spoil the surprise,” my mother said as she rolled her eyes. “Just leave it at that.”

“No,” I said as my mother went to move of the patio.

She looked at me, eyebrows arches of inquiry at my sharp tone.

“You’re lying,” I told her.

My mother’s eyes narrowed to feline slits. “You be careful, Sonny…”

Surprising myself, I scoffed and said: “Me? I should be careful?”

My mother’s face showed a flash of anxiety, throat working as she looked back to the hut again.

She looked at me, face changing as her expression hardened, a dangerous light flickering behind her eyes.

Her tone matched the look when she said: “Just what have you been up to, Sonny?”

“Not much,” I said, truculent with it. “Just hanging around.”

Suspicious, my mother asked: “Hanging around where?”

I shrugged, still angry enough to say: “Here, mum. Right here.”

My mother’s throat worked again as she stared at me. “Oh my God … Sonny … Where…?”

She paused, eyes wide, mouth open.

I grinned when she gasped: “What did you do?”

“More like what did you do, mum,” I snorted.

“Sonny, please, what do you think you know?”

I felt a pang of guilt and sympathy despite the shock and anger when I saw her face showing the fear. Her cheeks were starting to colour, the blush rising from her throat where the top two buttons on the blouse were loose.

“It’s more than think,” I said, thrusting my chin at the window.

My mother turned her head, tracking my sightline.

“Sonny,” she gasped, apparently appalled, face fire-engine red. “You saw?”

Sensations surged within as I nodded, images inside my head of my mother with Mark and Danny, my cock still constricted inside my clothing. I felt a strange mix of guilt and desire when I looked at my mother and I mentally stripped her down to her stockings and heels. The dark urges were a visceral squeeze as I recalled my mother’s smooth, hairless vulva and the way her cunt had taken Mark and Danny’s size.

“Oh Jesus, God,” my mother breathed as I relived the way her flesh jiggled and wobbled as she took her fucking.

“Uh-huh, I saw,” I said in what was little more than a croak.

“Sonny, please…”

My mother gasped it out, face showing horror and concern.

Then she sighed: “God, what must you be thinking?”

I gulped, swallowing down on all the conflicting emotions rising within.

“Look,” my mother was saying. “I really think we should talk about this.” She turned and went to the door like she was going back inside the hut. “Sonny, we have to,” my mother said.

She stopped when I said: “What? In there?”

My mother was looking at me, shrugging as she said: “Why not?”

I stared, eyes wide before I said: “Uh, you, on the sofa…”

My mother closed her eyes, sighing as she muttered a curse.

“Jesus, why did I do it on my own-fucking-doorstep?” she muttered.

Then she opened her eyes and gazed at me, love for my mother mixed in with everything as she murmured: “Do you hate me, Sonny?”

I shook my head, confused by what I was feeling. “No, ‘course not, mum.”

She blurted a laugh, the sound of it nervous and brittle. “Must have been a hell of a shock.”

I sucked in air and felt my cheeks balloon as I exhaled in a long sigh. “Well, yeah, a bit,” I said.

My mother winced and said: “Your friends … Sorry, Sonny, I know I shouldn’t have done it. Jesus, darling, when I think about it now … What you must have seen…”

I closed my eyes, the images flashing across my mind’s-eye: the kissing, their hands on her body, my mother wanking two cocks.

“What…? I mean just how much…? Shit, Sonny,” my mother said on an exasperated sigh. “How long were you there?”

She was standing with her back to the door, looking down to me as I stood at the bottom of the steps, three wooden treads up to the patio level.

“I … I saw them when they got here,” I said.

My mother grimaced and muttered: “Oh shit…”

“I didn’t look straight away,” I said, suddenly eager to limit my mother’s humiliation.

“Mm, but you saw … You must have seen…”

I was nodding as I blurted: “Yes, mum, I saw.”

“God, I’m so ashamed, Sonny. Baby, I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen. I should have had more self-control.”

The questions were in me, a dark desire for details, something clandestine slithering at the back of my mind.

She pulled another face when I asked: “You had it all planned?”

My mother sighed and shrugged, a gesture of surrender before she said: “Yes. I had it planned. It was something I wanted to do.”

“Fucking hell, mum,” I gasped, appalled and shocked to hear it.

“Listen, Sonny,” my mother snapped, eyes showing defiance. “Don’t you judge me, okay. You don’t know me that way. I’m your mother and I get you’ve had an awful time. You’re probably horrified. But there’s more to me than being your mum. I’m just a person, Sonny. I have needs and wants. I’m just like everybody else.”

“Oh, so Danny’s mum gets spit-roasted by his mates? Mark’s mum takes on a couple of blokes while his dad’s at work?”

The accusations bubbled up with a will of their own. I spat them out, sneering at my mother, her face bright red as she gawked at me.

“You nasty little shit,” she hissed.

“Fucking, slutty, two-timing bitch,” I said in reply.

My mother’s face shown real anger as she took three steps across the patio, heels peck-peck-pecking as she went. She reached the steps, pausing, contempt twisting her lips.

“Sanctimonious prick,” my mother sneered. “Think you have me all sorted out. You know nothing about real life yet, Sonny,” she said, jabbing a forefinger at me.

The mobile phone was in her hand, key swinging, finger like a pistol she was aiming at my face.

“You know fuck-all,” my mother added. “Have you even had a proper girlfriend yet?”

She glared at me as I stared back at her, animosity inside me reflected in my mother’s face.

“None of your business,” I snapped back.

Silence followed, both of us taking air down in gasping breaths.

My mother held up a hand, palm out in a gesture of parley.

“This isn’t solving anything,” my mother said as her expression softened. “Listen, Sonny, please. Let’s just go into the hut. Let’s have a talk. See if I can go some way to explaining myself.”

The anger drained from me like a leaky balloon as I looked at my mother and saw her conciliatory smile.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” I said.

“Yes. God. Well,” my mother said as she went to the door. “Come on,” she called when she stepped inside.

I hesitated, pausing because I was reluctant about going into the hut, the association between the sofa and the shocking scene still fresh.

“Sonny, stop pratting about,” I heard my mother call.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, a foot on the first step.

Her mobile rang as I walked into the hut.

My mother flashed a look at me, turning her back as she pressed the screen and out the device to her ear.

“Hello, baby,” I heard her say.

She threw a glance at me over her shoulder, expression unreadable while she listened to whatever my father had to say.

“Mm-hmm,” my mother added. “All good here, darling.”

A pause followed, my mother intent, her back towards me. She was less than a foot away from where she’d taken Mark and Danny into her body, allowing them to use her mouth and pussy, speaking to her husband like nothing had happened.

“I’m just talking to Sonny,” my mother said.

Another pause, then she chuckled.

“I’ll talk to you later,” my mother said, ending the call with the standard: “I love you.”

“Dad,” I said.

My mother nodded, putting the phone and keys down on the small table alongside the sofa.

“Correct,” she said, looking at me.

She placed the small leather bag next to her phone, turning to face me, arms folded beneath her breasts.

My mother caught me off guard by asking: “So, how do you feel?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “Shocked, I suppose.”

Another pause followed in which I examined my feelings in more detail.

Then I added: “Like it’s not really you. You know?”

My mother pouted, frowning at the same time, like she was processing what I’d said.

“Mm, I suppose that makes a bit of sense,” she said. “Doing what I was doing … I suppose it’s a difficult jump, mentally speaking that is.”

“It’s a difficult jump, all right,” I said.

My mother rolled her eyes, expression showing chagrin. Then she said: “I’m sorry you saw it, Sonny.”

“They’re my friends,” I said. “Or at least they were.”

I thought about Danny and Mark, the reality percolating through that they’d fucked my mother. It occurred to me there was no way they would keep it a secret. They were going to tell. Everyone would know.

“Fucking hell, mum,” I gasped, “how could you do it with them? They’ll blab. There’s not a chance they’ll keep it to themselves.”

I was starting to panic, the anxiety on me.

“Woah, Sonny, calm down,” my mother said as she uncrossed her arms and moved in close. “They won’t,” she added. “I made them promise.”

I boggled at her. “Promise? You made them promise?”

I stared some more, not believing my mother could be so stupid.

She was shaking her head as I finished by gasping: “There’s not a chance they’ll keep that promise, mum.”

My mother looked at me, an expression I couldn’t read on her face as she reached out and rested a hand on my shoulder.

“Well, I think they might keep it quiet,” my mother said, slowly nodding as she held my gaze. “No, Sonny,” she added, cutting me off when I opened my mouth to speak. “I think you can trust me on that one.”

Puzzled, I blurted: “But how?”

To which my mother replied: “I’ve had a word with them. Put all that to bed before we started.”

The obvious question came out of me. “How do you know? How can you be so sure?”

“I’ll tell you later,” my mother said, removing the hand from my shoulder. “I’m more concerned about you at this moment in time. I want to settle things with you. We can talk about other things later.”

My mother sighed, the sound exasperated when I asked: “Other things? What other things?”

“One thing at a time,” she said. “First, I think you should calm down, take a few breaths.”

With the agitation ballooning within, I paced around the small room. “Shit,” I said, anxiety squeezing my guts. “What a mess.”

I went to the sofa, memories of my mother with her legs spread, fingers working her clit before she used two fingers inside her opening.

“You shagged them both,” I groaned, looking at my mother. “There,” I added, pointing. “My friends. Behind dad’s back.”

The enormity hit me like a physical blow while I gawped at mother, disbelief rising within.

“Hmm, well, you’re making assumptions,” my mother said.

“Oh, am I,” I said, incredulous.

“Yes,” my mother said as she folded her arms again. She challenged me with a belligerent stare, hitting me with another shock by saying: “Who says I’m doing it behind your father’s back?”

That shut me up. Her little revelation left me slack-jawed and staring.

“Oh, I’ll agree that Danny and Mark weren’t the wisest of choices,” my mother continued as her arms fell to her sides. “I really do blame myself,” she said with a half-shrug. “I sometimes make unwise choices. It’s not the first time I’ve–”

My mother shut up because I’d blurted: “Weren’t the wisest of choices? What the fuck are you saying? Have you heard yourself, mum? This isn’t about some stupid, bullshit decision … This is you … With my friends … Sex with them at the same time. Two of them together! Now you’re saying dad knew? Really? What the fuck are you two mixed up with? Are you swingers or something? Do you go out dogging at weekends?”

I stopped talking, gulping in air as my mother pulled a face, showing chagrin again.

Then I gasped when she shrugged and said: “Well, dogging, no … The other bit is right though, Sonny.”

I was boggling some more, stunned into silence again.

“We’ve always been that way inclined,” I heard my mother say, her voice sounding very far away. “It doesn’t mean we don’t love each other, Sonny. What you saw … That was just sex. I’m not in love with Danny or Mark. There’s no emotion involved.”

I gasped, shaking my head, sitting on the sofa as my mother kept talking.

“This might be painful for you to hear, and probably very embarrassing. But, well, you see, we’ve always tried to keep that side of things away from you and Emily. We tried to keep all that away from you.”

All I could manage was to stare and still slowly shake my head.

My mother sighed and sat next to me.

“I’ve always had what you might call a high sex-drive,” she said.

“No, mum, please,” I groaned, just as her mobile rang again.

My mother tutted and killed the call. I saw her fingers move over the screen as she typed out a message.

Then she turned the phone off while muttering: “God, just leave me alone.”

After leaning over the arm of the sofa to out the phone down, my mother set her attention on me once more.

“Listen,” she said, no-nonsense and stern. “You and I are going to clear the air. You’re an adult, Sonny. Not to mention you just saw me in a very compromising situation. I need us to talk it through. I’m not letting you leave until I’m satisfied you’re all right. I don’t want to cause you any more upset. This must have been traumatic for you, and I’m afraid you might feel all awkward and embarrassed discussing such sensitive, personal issues with me, but, the thing is, well, that’s just tough titty, Sonny. Do you hear me? Do you understand?”

I gulped and nodded, cheeks warm, erection subsided. I didn’t want to be there but knew my mother wouldn’t let it lie. I knew from experience she’d keep pressing until she got her way.

“Oh, mum,” I groaned, face in my hands, elbows on my knees.

“Don’t be so silly,” my mother said, scolding me like I was ten years younger. “Try and be grown-up.”

The injustice of it brought another gasp from me.

“Don’t have a go at me,” I said, indignation rising. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Mm, you spied on me…”

“You’re taking the piss,” I spluttered. “I didn’t spy on you. I caught you. You and Danny and Mark are to blame for this. Not me.”

As I stared at her, incredulity and indignation rising within, my mother sighed and slowly shook her head.

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. This is a bit difficult for me as well. When I think about what you must have seen…”

My mother paused, wincing as she muttered something I didn’t catch.

“Please don’t think too badly of me, Sonny,” my mother said in a whisper. “I was weak. I got carried away.”

Tender emotions bubbled inside me when I realised my mother was carrying guilt and shame.

I sighed and put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in close so we were side-by-side, her head resting against me as she breathed a long sigh.

“It’s all right,” I said. “It’ll be fine.”

“Oh, Sonny,” my mother murmured as she rested her head against my shoulder.

I felt the tension in her body, wound tight with whatever she was feeling.

“Don’t worry,” I said before I gently kissed her crown. “I just need some time to think about it. I … I need to see what Danny and Mark are going to do.”

“I’m pretty certain they won’t blab,” my mother said as she shifted away from me.

I looked at her. “How do you know?”

She grinned and rolled her eyes, demeanour showing wry humour. “Well, your father would dismantle them, limb by limb,” my mother said.

It was matter-of-fact and delivered with some humour behind it, but I knew it was probably true. I don’t know what it is my father does, not exactly. I know he’s involved in imports, that he’s in business, but I always sensed there was something shady going on, too. It’s nothing more than a feeling, something instinctive I’ve picked up growing up on the periphery. My father has an aura of danger about him. And I know he’s got a temper. I once saw him knock a man out during what would have been a minor disagreement about a parking space down at the local parade of shops. Someone pissed my dad off where a very brief conversation ensued, the result being my father, quick as a snake, reacted to a verbal insult with fast, effective, unexpected violence. What I saw from the passenger seat in our car was the other man saying something to my dad and, a split second later, the man sprawled back against his car, stunned by the punch.

It was the man gesturing and talking as my father, calm as you like, walked closer and boom. My dad didn’t respond with any verbal reaction. He went straight from nothing to violence in the blink of an eye.

After that, with the other man reeling, my dad calmly walked into the shop, going about his business like it punching someone hard enough to take them off their feet was everyday life.

Maybe it was?

I wouldn’t know.

But it made sense that my mother would be confident about Danny and Mark keeping their mouths shut. They knew my dad and were awry of him, which got me thinking about how my father must have sanctioned them both fucking my mother.

I looked at my mother. “He probably would,” I said.

My mother slowly nodded, with her focus locked on my face.

“So, now, talk to me, Sonny,” she said on a murmur. “Let’s get it all out in the open.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

My mother sighed and held her lower lip between her teeth, expression somehow managing to convey curiosity, amusement, mischief, and something oddly clandestine. I saw a slyness in her look, like she was enjoying herself.

Then my mother shifted position, squirming her rump against the sofa, the action striking me as sexual.

She asked: “Mm, well, I wonder if you still love me?”

I frowned, puzzled she’d asked.

“Of course I do, mum,” I said. “You’re still my mother. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

“Mm-hmm,” my mother breathed, “but, well, seeing me doing all that sex with those two…? I’m just wondering how you see me now. You could be appalled. Maybe you’re horrified. You might even be disgusted to see me behaving that way. God,” my mother added with a gasp, eyes wide. “I had my skirt up, my boobs … You must have seen all of me, Sonny. All my wobbly bits…”

I gulped because what she said brought back the memory, vivid images of my own mother sucking cock as she fucked back onto another, large breasts swaying as she went at it.

“Uh, I saw it all,” I said, mumbling the words.

Her eyes slid away, demeanour furtive as my mother asked: “Like what? Tell me, Sonny, what did you see?”

I felt the fire rise in my cheeks. “You and them,” I said.

“Describe it.”

My insides flipped when she said it, a strange sensation rising within while my cock thickened again.

“Mum,” I said on a half-groan. “Come on, please, don’t ask me that.”

“Ah, Sonny, just tell me.”

It cost me to do it, but I looked at my mother, ignoring the embarrassment and disturbing sexual tension working within. “Mum,” I said, giving it one last try at shutting her up. “I don’t want to say anymore.”

It didn’t work on her. My mother wouldn’t let it lie.

I sighed when she asked: “You saw me … having full intercourse?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “With both of them. Is that what you want me to say? I saw you shagging both my mates.”

“I used my hands…? My mouth…?”

I gulped, swallowing down against the bubbling need to haul out my cock and start wanking towards sexual gratification. It was in my head: my mother sucking the cocks, her face distorted as Danny fucked her mouth, her eyes shining with her delight as Mark used his size on her pussy.

“All of it, mum,” I moaned as my dick stiffened to full tumescence.

“They used condoms,” my mother said.

“Uh-huh, I saw.”

“That’s something your father insists on,” my mother told me. “I’m not supposed to kiss, either,” she went on with a half-shrug. “But sometimes I get so excited…”

Conflicting sensations swirled in the pit of my stomach. It was awful to hear her say it in such a casual, off-hand way. I thought it was all too personal, intimate arrangements between her and my father I didn’t want to know about. The thing is, no matter how it appalled me to hear it, carnal urges were also working inside me. I’d recognised my own mother’s sexual appeal; I’d seen her actively working two cocks, her face showing how much she enjoyed being physical with Danny and Mark, her body moving with that frantic, urgent rhythm as she fucked onto their cocks, her body milking them of their lust, the condoms heavy with ejaculate.

“The kissing is wrong,” my mother was saying as I tried to make sense of my body’s responses. “And your dad absolutely hates it; he says it’s too close to emotions. He says kissing is for love.”

It hit me like a punch to the guts when I heard my mother describing the kissing, lust surging as I looked at her face and imagined kissing her mouth.

I tried to speak but could only gurgle nonsense because my throat was so dry. I coughed and spluttered and then managed to say: “I know what he means.”

My mother was looking at me with a strange expression, a look I didn’t recognise seen on her face. It puzzled me to see it, confusion and a slow, vague realisation dawning that that look was close to how my mother had looked when she was taking cock, and what I was seeing in that moment was her own resurgent desire.

It came out clotted and thick, her voice heavy when my mother said: “You do, do you, Sonny?”

I gulped again. “Uh-huh,” I said, my own voice sounding strange to my ears. “It sort of makes sense,” I added. “Yeah, sex is personal but … uh … I suppose I mean it’s physical … I sort of get why kissing is for love.”

“I adore kissing,” my mother breathed.

She was staring at me, tingles crawling along my spine as I thought — just for a second — that my mother wanted me to kiss me. I couldn’t explain it, but I sensed the kiss wouldn’t be the usual, maternal expression of tender concern. What I saw in my mother’s eyes was sexual intent, kissing with tongues in an exchange of emotions.

Desire exploded within as I murmured: “I didn’t like seeing you kiss Danny and Mark.”

My mother’s eyes went wide. “No, Sonny? How come? You jealous or something?”

I nodded and mumbled: “A bit, yeah. I suppose,” I finished with a shrug as my eyes slid from my mother’s face.

It was working between us, a charged atmosphere which crackled and fizzed, my libido snarling as I thought about grabbing my mother so I could kiss her like I wanted to. Time stretched, reality slewed, a surreal, dreamlike sensation a soft easy blanket over us both.

“Oh, sweetheart,” my mother crooned, a hand on my knee. “I don’t love Danny and Mark,” she sighed. “I love you.”

“I know,” I said, suddenly petulant with resentment.

My mother was looking at me as I glanced at her face.

I shrugged again when she asked: “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” I said.

“You’re jealous,” my mother suggested. Then she paused for a few beats before adding: “I think you want to kiss me like they did, Sonny. I think that’s what’s the matter with you.”

“Uh, mum, no,” I sighed.

My mother fixed me with a vixen sparkle behind her eyes. She held her lower lip between her teeth for a few seconds, crinkling her nose at me before she grinned.

“Mm, I think you do,” she said.

“Mum,” I said on a half-moan of confusion and desire.

Then the magic happened.

In an unbelievable, impossible fragment of time, a moment which altered my life, my mother moved closer, her hip and thigh touching mine.

“If you want to kiss me,” she breathed, eyes locked with mine. “Well, Sonny, you can.”

I boggled for the first couple of seconds after she said it, denial my first response until, on a huge surge, I felt a rush of joy move through me.

My heart raced, the sound of it quick and urgent as desire exploded deep in my core.

On a gasp, I said: “Mum, can I?”

She was grinning at me, devilment in the look. “If you want to, baby,” my mother said.

Stunned, I moved without knowing I was going to. It was like an out of body experience, a part of my brain still capable of coherent thought observing as I swivelled and reached for my mother’s waist, her body soft and pliant under my palms and fingers when I squeezed, her mouth touching mine.

I heard her moan as her tongue slipped between my lips.

My mother gasped, squirming as I held her, our tongues making contact for the first time.

Disbelief was a huge feeling within, the shock of it rolling over me in a hot tide while, as passion ignited, I returned the kiss, both of us sighing and vocalising excitement with small moans and groans.

“Touch me,” my mother gasped during a very brief pause. “My boobs,” she said. “I know you want to feel them, Sonny. And tits are all right.”

As we kissed again, my mother took my hands and pushed them to her chest.

“Mm-hmm, yes,” my mother moaned when I squeezed.

“Mum, shit, I don’t believe it,” I said on a gasp.

“Shush, don’t talk. Just kiss me and feel my breasts. I want us to love.”

In a strange sense of surprise, delight, a little confusion, and a burst of lust, I kissed my mother, arousal ballooning as I pressed tit-flesh through her blouse and bra. My cock was pulsing and seeping pre-cum into my underwear. I squirmed and felt the cold snail-trail against my skin, desire for my own mother’s ripe body close to overwhelming.

The need was so strong and urgent I broke away from the kiss, brave enough to gasp: “Can you take your top off, mum?”

My mother looked at me, glancing down to where my hands were on her breasts.

Her eyes were wide as she asked: “My boobs?”

I gulped, desperate and eager. “Uh-huh,” I said.

I saw her smirk before she said: “Like big tits, do you, Sonny?”

I couldn’t speak. I was too excited, the wonder of the kissing working on me.

“Just my tits,” my mother was saying after I nodded. “You’re my son. I shouldn’t do it but, well, I want to, Sonny. It’s very naughty … Me being your mum … But, I suppose they’re only boobs. You’d see them if I went topless at a beach or something.”

I couldn’t utter a word. All that came out of me was a garbled croak mixed in with a groan. My mother was speaking as she unfastened the blouse, buttons going loose to expose her breasts bubbling over the cups of her bra.

“And you’ve seen them before,” my mother added with a tut and roll of her eyes. “You saw everything when I was in here with those boys. I don’t suppose it matters that much if…”

My mother shrugged the blouse to the crooks of her arms, compressing her large breasts with her biceps, the deep cleavage a magnet for my eyes.

“Show me,” I gurgled.

She chuckled, tutted, and rolled her eyes again, the gesture a throwback to years before. Like I’d done something amusing but annoying.

“God, don’t be so impatient,” my mother scolded.

“And take the blouse off,” I said as she scooped her breasts free.

“Ooh, look who’s giving orders,” my mother said, eyes wide as she looked at me.

Desire had made me bold and reckless enough to urge my mother to go further.

“Now,” I said, growling it out.

She slipped the blouse off. “All right. Hold your horses.”

It was oddly domestic, her reactions like an everyday scene where she showed me her naked breasts.

My mother tutted again, the eye-roll and sigh following on.

“There,” she said after reaching back to unclasp her bra. “Happy?”

My mother teased me with her eyes for a couple of seconds, her hands pressing the bra to her breasts until she let it fall away.

She chuckled and said: “Mm, well, somebody’ impressed. What’s the matter, Sonny, never seen a lady’s breasts before?”

My mother said it because I was staring as I let out a sigh, cheeks ballooning when I saw my own mother boobs swing free, their size and shape setting desires swirling inside me.

“Oh,” my mother added, half-gasping it out when I touched her. “I didn’t say anything abut touching, Sonny. Goodness, you’re being very naughty.”

The scolding was surreal, the odd domesticity again at odds with what was happening. My mother was using phrases and a tone of voice more suited to a childish misdemeanour than her own adult son groping her breasts.

“Mum, please,” I gasped.

“Oh, all right,” my mother said, indulgent. She smiled at me, still in that strange maternal style. “But just for a minute,” she added like I was fifteen years younger and asking to stay up late.

I stared, agog by my mother’s breasts, their weight in my palms, the spongy-firm texture and silky skin setting more pre-cum siping from my cock.

“Mm, that’s actually very nice,” my mother purred. “You’ve got a very good touch.”

She shifted position, swivelling to present her frontage while actively thrusting her breasts at me.

“Go on, be firm,” my mother drawled, a dreamy sigh following on.

My mother closed her eyes, murmuring about how lovely it felt as I caressed her boobs, fingers kneading tit-flesh, lust boiling inside me.

She yipped in surprise when I ducked in and lifted a breast so I could suck at the nipple.

“Sonny, you’re being very rude,” she gasped.

I mumbled, “Please,” around a mouthful of breast, mauling at them as I went to the other nipple.

In that same weird, indulgent voice, my mother sighed and said: “Oh, go on then. You obviously like them a lot.”

“They’re fantastic,” I said, sighing it out. “Big,” I muttered. “So heavy.”

“You sound like your father the first time he saw them,” my mother said. “Went potty,” she added. Couldn’t keep his hands off them. Just like you,” she finished with a wry chuckle.

I sucked and squeezed, excited beyond anything I’d known before by my mother’s breasts as she allowed me to indulge myself.

Then, after a minute, my mother said: “I suppose you’re hard.”

I looked up into her face, hands still filled with her boobs.

“Your cock,” she added with a glance to the front of my jeans.

I shook my head. “Nuh-no,” I stammered.

She knew I was lying. My mother looked at me after I said it, her expression showing she didn’t believe me.

“Nonsense,” she said with scorn in her tone. “I know you’re hard, Sonny. Bound to be,” my mother added, matter-of-fact. “Your age, my boobs…”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, thinking I was in trouble.

My mother’s eyes went wide as she asked: “Why be sorry?”

I let go of her breasts and moved along the sofa, putting six inches between us.

“I … I don’t know,” I stammered. “I thought you might be mad.”

Her expression showed incredulity. “Why on Earth would I be mad?”

Feeling stupid, I shrugged and said: “Uh, I dunno. I just thought…”

“An erection given the circumstances is understandable,” my mother said. “I’d be very surprised if you didn’t have a stiffie for me. In fact, if anything, Sonny, I’d be insulted. I’d be worried you didn’t find me attractive.”

“I think you’re attractive, mum,” I gasped.

“Just because I’ve got big knockers,” my mother said.

I shook my head, desperate for her to understand. “It’s not just that. You’re really pretty … I think you’re sexy.”

“But you really like my big boobs.”

“They’re awesome, mum. I can’t believe you let me touch.”

“Mm, well, I shouldn’t have done that,” my mother said. “Or the kissing.”

“Mum, don’t say that,” I said on a rush of concern.

I thought she was going to put them away, that she was going to put the bra back on and tell me we shouldn’t have done and nor should we speak of it again.

I thought it but that’s not what she did. Instead, through her devilish smirk, my mother said: “You do have a hard willy, don’t you, Sonny?”

The grin shifted to a wide smile, eyes showing delight after I nodded.

Then my mother said: “So, why don’t you sort yourself out. You know, get it out and…”

I gawked as my mother mimed the action, fist jerking in rhythmic movements.

“It’s all right,” she breathed. “You can do it in front of me. It’s your hand. I’ll just be watching.”

I stared and managed to say: “You’re kidding.”

To which my mother shook her head. “No, Sonny, I’m not. In fact,” she added with a shrug. “It would even things out. You’ve watched me … I can watch you.”

It crossed my mind to refuse. I couldn’t believe my mother could suggest it. It was an unreal suggestion, and difficult for me to absorb — wanking in front of my mother? I couldn’t.

Then I saw the look on her face, something wild and primal in my mother’s expression which took me to my feet, fingers at my jeans, fumbling until I managed to work at the button and zip, shoving my jeans and boxers down together so my cock sprang out.

When the jib waggled and waved, my mother blurted a yelp.

“God,” she gasped. “Darling, you really are excited for me.”

I groaned and worked my hand over my size, delight rushing through my core, my attention set on my mother as she stared at my cock.

“Oh, baby,” my mother crooned. “That looks lovely. It’s a gorgeous big cock.”

With desperate need on me, I growled: “It’s you. You made it happen. Your big-fucking-tits.”

Inhibition melted away in the heat of my arousal. I was wild for my mother, tugging my dick as I savoured the detail of her large breasts and saucer areolae. I glanced at her face and caught her grinning at me.

“Don’t pull it off,” my mother quipped.

“I can’t help it,” I gasped. “You’re so hot. You’re sexy.”

“Mm, keep talking,” my mother said. “I like it.”

“You’re gorgeous, mum,” I groaned.

My mother let out a sigh, expression showing her own arousal as she squirmed and massaged her breasts.

“I’m wet,” she said. “Seeing you do that is making me randy.”

“Show me,” I groaned.

I was a couple of feet away from my mother. I was standing. Facing her, cock in my fist while she sat on the sofa, tits exposed, her attention fixed on my hand as I worked my length.

“I can’t do that,” my mother said, glancing at my face.

I groaned and gasped: “Why not? I already saw.”

My mother looked at my cock, cheeks ballooning as she blew out air, her eyes going back to my face.

“Because I can’t trust myself,” my mother said. “You doing that…? Me with no knickers on…? I’m afraid I’ll ask you to put it in.”

I sucked in air because it shocked me to hear her say it, desire bursting inside me again as I imagined how it might be to feed my cock to my own mother’s cunt.

“I … I just want to look,” I groaned.

Need became urgent when my mother shook her head, eyes full of fear. “I don’t dare, Sonny. I know you’ll want to go further if I show you.”

“No, I promise,” I said, teeth gritted against the urge to launch myself at my mother.

She closed her eyes, face tight as she muttered something I couldn’t make out.

“You really do have to behave,” my mother said when she looked at me. “I mean it, Sonny. If I take my knickers off, you have to promise not to push me.”

Thrilled to hear my mother was close to giving in, I nodded and gasped: “Whatever you say. Mum, please, I just want to see.”

“You need to come,” my mother said with a nod to my cock. “If I show you, just wank and come.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say. I promise, mum, I only want to see it.”

As my mother got to her feet, she muttered: “God, I don’t believe I’m–”

She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, my mother stood up, stared at me for a few seconds, shrugged, and then pushed her skirt to her knees. It fell to her shoes, my attention on the stockings for the blink of an eye before I looked at my mother’s vulva packed into her underwear.

My mother smirked when I gasped out: “Mum, I love those stockings. You’re like one of those old-fashioned pin-ups.”

“Mm, charmer,” she said through a grin. “You’ll say anything to get me to drop my drawers. Typical man.”

I gulped and added: “No, I mean it. You’re gorgeous. So beautiful.”

“That’s because I’m in stockings and shoes and I’ve got my tits out.”

I glanced at my mother’s breasts, those large orbs swaying as my mother stepped out of her skirt, graceful of a dancer in her high heels.

I was wanking with a vigorous action as I said: “Can I kiss you again?”

I saw my mother pull a face, the look all about doubt while also showing she thought the idea was tempting.

I nodded when my mother asked: “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I love kissing you,” I said.

“Oh, all right. Come and kiss me,” my mother said, holding her arms out in invitation.

I stepped into the embrace, my hands going to her breasts as we kissed, desire flaring. I let my hands wander down to her buttocks, kneading my mother’s bottom as she pressed in close, her boobs squished between us. My mother moaned and wriggled, my cock between our bodies, the bulb leaking goo onto my mother’s tummy as I dared to slide a hand under the elastic waistband on her underwear. The expeditionary hand was on my mother’s rump, fingers against her buttock, a thrill of excitement rushing through me because, while I was only groping her bottom, the hand was inside her knickers. That seemed like another line we’d crossed. I thought getting beyond the barrier of her final piece of clothing would be too much for my mother to accept. It was in my head, mixed in with confusion, disbelief, and arousal that I might be pushing too hard, that daring to slip the hand into her underwear would be the last straw.

But it wasn’t.

Instead of gasping out a rebuke, my mother squirmed in close, body moving with sinuous energy, her tongue slipping and sliding with mine.

It went on for several seconds, kissing my mother, arousal smeared across her stomach and with a silvery trail staining the tops of one stocking when my mother pulled back from the kiss.

My hand came out of her underwear as my mother stepped back.

“God, I’m so turned-on,” my mother breathed. “Kissing you … It’s so naughty … Tongues … I’m just about naked and you’re standing there with that lovely big cock … I don’t believe I’m behaving this way.”

I cranked my length, eyes moving over my mother’s body. “Mum, fuck, I can’t stop looking at you. You’re terrific. I know it’s just crazy but please don’t make me stop.”

My mother’s eyes went wide. “Oh, baby,” she drawled as she smirked at me. “I’m not going to make you stop. It’s gone this far, there’s no point in stopping now. I’ll just sit down,” my mother said as she went to the sofa.

She settled, sitting down, shifting around so she was half-reclined, back wedged into the corner between the sofa arm and the upright back.

As I watched, fist working my length, my mother lifted her feet onto the sofa, legs falling apart, boobs jiggling as she teased the visible cleft outlined against her tight underwear where it covered her vulva.

My mother nodded to my cock, fingers working against her knickers as she teased her pussy through the fabric.

“I’m going to have a little play while you wank that for me.”

I moved closer to the sofa, wanking with one hand while I reached down to touch my mother’s breasts.

“Mm, yes, touch them,” my other sighed.

She squirmed and gasped, a hand slipping into her knickers.

“Kiss me some more,” she sighed, underwear bulging like kittens in a sack.

I stared at where my mother was touching herself, attention moving up to her face after a brief stop at her wobbling tits.

She was staring at me, expression feral and hungry, lust in her face.

“God, I’m so wet,” my mother said, snarling it out, teeth bared.

She winced, gasping, one hand mauling tit-flesh while I gazed, the need to go further working inside me.

“Show me,” I groaned with a thrust f my chin. “Just pull your knickers to ne side. I only want to see how wet you are.”

My mother closed her eyes, gulping before she set her hot-eyed stare on me again.

“Fucking perv,” she muttered, yanking her underwear aside at the same time.

I gasped, awed by my mother’s meaty labia, her fingers moving in quick circles at the apex of her slit for a few seconds before she splayed the ungainly folds to expose her scarlet, glistening core.

As she held herself open, I could see my mother’s pee-hole above the mystery of her opening. Her clit was a swollen pink bean, the flesh elastic inside my mother as she slipped a forefinger over the nub, labia stretching as she held herself wider, legs parting to what must have been their physical limits, my mother’s large boobs jiggling as she moved.

“God, Sonny, your face,” my mother muttered as she teased her clit.

“Take them off,” I moaned, lust swirling in the pit of my stomach.

My mother closed her eyes again, shaking her head as she muttered to herself, internal conflict obvious.

“Jesus,” my mother muttered. “I shouldn’t … I can’t … Shit, I simply do not believe I’m doing all this.”

As she was saying it, my mother was lifting her rump from the sofa so she could shove her underwear over her buttocks. I stared, amazed as she slid her underwear down to her ankles and then she reclined, legs going wide again.

“All right, there you are, Sonny. You got your own way.”

My mother splayed herself again, showing me her pussy.

“That’s where you came from,” my mother mumbled, two fingers slipping into her opening. “I gave you life. You’re looking at something you shouldn’t ever see.”

“Mum, I love you,” I gasped.

“Just wank it,” my mother snarled at me. “This is as far as we go. You wank yours and I’ll do mine. I need you to come. We can’t keep doing this much longer, Sonny. I can’t stand it. I need you to come so we can both calm down.”

I didn’t ask permission. I just wanked my dick and moved in closer, leaning in to kiss my mother’s mouth, a hand going to her breasts.

“Oh, Jesus, this is too dangerous,” my mother gasped.

She said it but don’t stop me touching her body. My mother squirmed and moaned, a hand working her vulva as I mauled her tits, tongues swirling during a long, heated, gasping kiss.

I stepped back, breaking the kiss so I could watch, my hand at my dick. By then, I was past the immediate urgency of a climax. As aroused as I was, I’d had enough practice wanking to porn, prolonging the exquisite agony while edging to the brink of orgasm before I eased back and allowed my desire to cool. It was trick I was close to mastering, something I’d spent hours, even days practicing, a level of self-control I somehow managed to exercise despite the extreme provocation of my own mother’s sexual allure and the wild, impossible situation we were engaged in.

“Fuck, mum, seeing you do this is just unreal,” I said, focus on her fingers working in-and-out of her body. I looked at her face, her eyes full of need and desire, teeth bared in a silent snarl. “Incredible,” I said on a moan.

As my mother worked her pussy, sometimes rubbing the bean, other times with two and even three stiff fingers fucking her opening, my mother kept gasping and muttering|: “Ooh, ah, God that’s nice.”

My mother’s large boobs jiggled and rolled, her body tensing as she went at herself and she squirmed against the sofa.

“Oh, God, that’s nice,” my mother moaned, eyes on my face. “Sonny, oh God…”

She winced and closed her eyes, a hand pushing through her hair while her hips moved in shirt, rhythmic jerks.

Then my mother paused and held herself open, pussy stretched, labia pinned back against her inner thighs while she looked at me with savage intensity in her expression.

“Listen,” my mother started before she groaned and rubbed her clit.

She wriggled on the sofa, legs wide, pussy exposed again as she gasped and pushed her fingers through her hair again.

“Look,” my mother continued. “The thing is,” she added after another short pause. “I know I’m mad for saying this, but…”

My mother paused again, tutting as she rolled her eyes. Then she locked her gaze with mine, body completely still as she showed off her pussy again.

I broke her stare, glancing down to her glistening centre, committing the sight to memory: my mother’s body exposed to my stare; her cunt pink and hot, the bean swollen, her inner thighs creamy smooth. I stared at her breasts, their size and setting a surge of need rushing through me. Her body, padded and rounded with indulgence was the single-most arousing sight I’d ever laid eyes on. I thought she was lovely, simply beautiful, love and lust combining inside me.

Then, when I looked at her face, my mother said: “Before I change my mind, Sonny … Why don’t you bring that big cock over here?”

My mother moved, a quick thrust of her hips as she slid a finger into her opening, splaying her labia once again.

“I want to touch it,” my mother said. “Bring it to me.”

The seconds which followed were like a dream. I was still in shock from hearing her say it, my legs moving with a wooden stiffness like I was walking on stilts as I went towards the sofa.

As I moved in closer, my mother was staring at me, still in the same position: halfway reclined, legs wide, fingers at her folds.

We kissed, her hand going to my cock.

I gasped at the contact, her hand squeezing my girth.

“My son,” my mother sighed as she slowly caressed my size. “My baby. Mm-hmm, my lovely, sweet, darling boy.”

Despite the shock, I first squeezed my mother’s breasts, the palm slipping over her soft, pillowy tummy. He moaned and squirmed when my fingers found her labia.

“God, Sonny, that’s my quim.”

I nodded after she sighed it out, our gazes locked, her own shock showing behind her eyes.

“I love you,” I murmured, the words coming out without me thinking.

My mother nodded, quick and somehow urgent. “Yes, uh-huh, I know,” she said.

“You’re so gorgeous,” I muttered, fingers down at her sodden vulva.

“Baby, finger me,” my mother groaned. She grabbed my wrist and pushed my hand against her body. “My clit … Inside me. Use your fingers, Sonny.”

“I want to fuck your tits,” I growled.

My mother nodded again, gasping as she said: “That’s so wicked. It’s bad, Sonny. We’re getting too carried away.”

I groaned when my mother squeezed my girth and worked her hand over the length.

I moved up onto the sofa to position myself over my mother. It was awkward and cumbersome, but I wanted to push my dick through her cleavage and fuck her tits.

I nodded when my mother asked: “You really want to fuck my tits?”