I never planned to fuck my son. But once it started, there was no stopping the filthy need that took over both of us. It began on a hot summer night when my husband was out of town again. Mark had just turned twenty-five and was staying with me while he looked for his own place. I came home late from work, kicked off my heels, and poured a glass of wine. He was on the couch in nothing but gym shorts, his broad chest glistening from the heat, that thick bulge obvious even in the dim light.
"Long day, Mom?" he asked, voice low and rough.
I sat beside him, too close, the wine already buzzing through me. "You have no idea. I need to relax." My hand landed on his thigh by accident, or maybe not. His muscle tensed under my fingers. Instead of pulling away, I left it there, feeling the heat of his skin. Mark didn't move. He just looked at me with those dark eyes, the same ones that used to look innocent but now held something hungry.
We talked about nothing for a minute, the air getting thicker. Then my hand slid higher without thinking. I brushed the edge of his shorts and felt his cock twitch hard against the fabric. "Jesus, Mom," he muttered, but he didn't stop me. I gripped him through the thin material, stroking slow and firm, feeling him swell to full size. He was bigger than his father, thick and throbbing.
"Fuck, you've been walking around like this all week," I said, voice turning raw. "I noticed every time." I tugged his shorts down and his cock sprang free, heavy and veined. I wrapped my fingers around the base and started pumping him properly, thumb circling the leaking head. Mark groaned and shoved his hips up into my fist.
I leaned in and licked the tip, tasting the salt of him. "This is wrong," I whispered against his skin, but I took him into my mouth anyway, sucking deep and wet. He tasted good, hot and male. I bobbed my head, taking more each time until he hit the back of my throat. Mark's hand tangled in my hair, holding me down while he fucked my mouth in short, desperate thrusts.
"Shit, Mom, your mouth feels so fucking good," he growled. I moaned around him, spit dripping down his shaft as I worked him faster. My free hand slipped under my skirt, fingers rubbing my soaked panties. I was dripping for my own son.
He pulled me off his cock and kissed me hard, tongue pushing deep like he wanted to taste himself on me. Clothes came off in a rush. I straddled his lap on the couch and sank down onto that fat cock in one smooth motion. We both cursed at the same time. He stretched me wide, filling me completely.
I rode him slow at first, rolling my hips, letting him feel every inch of my tight cunt gripping him.
Mark grabbed my ass with both hands and slammed up into me, pounding hard. The wet slap of skin filled the room. "Fuck your mom," I told him, voice filthy. "Give it to me like you mean it." He flipped us, pinning me on my back on the couch cushions, and drove into me with long, brutal strokes. My tits bounced with every thrust. I clawed his back and begged for more.
We moved to the bedroom after that first round. I got on all fours and he took me from behind, hands spreading my cheeks so he could watch his cock disappear into my pussy. He reached under and rubbed my clit until I came hard, shaking and soaking his balls. Then he pulled out and pressed the head against my asshole. "You want this too?" he asked.
I pushed back. "Do it. Fuck my ass." He worked his cock in slowly, stretching me open. The burn mixed with pleasure until he was buried deep. He fucked my ass with the same raw rhythm, one hand in my hair, the other spanking my cheeks red. I came again just from the dirtiness of it, my son using every hole.
We didn't stop that night. I sucked him clean after he filled my ass, then climbed on top again for another round in my pussy. By morning we were both sore and sticky, but the hunger hadn't faded. Mark looked at me across the breakfast table and said, "This isn't over."
It wasn't. Every time my husband left town after that, Mark came to my room. Sometimes he bent me over the kitchen counter the second he walked in. Other times we took it slow, him eating my pussy for an hour before sliding inside. The taboo never got old. It only got hotter knowing it was my own flesh and blood pounding me senseless, whispering how tight and wet his mom's cunt felt.
We kept it secret, raw, and ours. No one else needed to know how good it felt to break that final rule together.
