The house was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge when I walked in from the garage. Mom was at the kitchen counter in that thin silk robe she wore after her shower, the one that barely tied and clung to her curves like it was painted on. She turned when she heard me, and her eyes dropped straight to the bulge already pushing against my jeans.
"Been thinking about me all day, haven't you?" she said, voice low and rough. No teasing this time. She untied the robe and let it fall open, tits heavy and nipples already tight, the dark strip of hair between her legs glistening.
I didn't answer with words. I crossed the room, grabbed her by the hips, and spun her around so her ass pressed back against my cock. She moaned as I yanked the robe off her shoulders and shoved two fingers straight into her wet cunt.
"Fuck, you're soaked," I growled against her ear. "Been waiting for your son to come home and stretch this pussy again?"
She pushed back on my hand, grinding. "Shut up and fuck me. I need that thick cock right now."
I freed myself, lined up, and slammed in to the hilt in one hard thrust. Mom cried out, palms flat on the counter, as I started pounding her. Each stroke made her tits swing and her ass ripple. The wet slap of skin filled the kitchen.
"Harder," she begged. "Fuck your mother like you mean it."
I did. I gripped her hair, pulled her head back, and drove into her deep and fast. Her cunt clenched around me, dripping down my balls. She came first, legs shaking, a string of filthy curses spilling out as she flooded my cock.
I didn't stop. I pulled out, spun her to face me, and lifted her onto the counter. She spread wide and I buried myself again, watching her face twist with every thrust. Her nails dug into my back.
"Fill me up," she panted. "Come inside your mom. Give me every drop."
I slammed in one last time and unloaded, pumping thick ropes deep while she milked me with her walls. We stayed locked together, breathing hard, sweat-slicked skin pressed close.
She kissed me then, slow and hungry, tongue sliding against mine. "Bedroom," she whispered. "We're not done yet."
By the time we reached her room, I was hard again. She pushed me onto the bed, climbed on top, and sank down on my cock with a satisfied groan. She rode me dirty, hips rolling, tits bouncing in my face while she told me exactly how she wanted it.
"Play with my clit while I fuck you," she ordered. I rubbed tight circles and she came again, screaming my name, her pussy squeezing so tight I thought she'd break me.
We switched positions all night. Doggy on the edge of the mattress. Her on her back with legs over my shoulders so I could watch every inch disappear into her.
Me behind her in the shower, water streaming over us as I fucked her against the tiles.
Each time she came she got louder, dirtier, begging for more. "Use me," she said at one point, on all fours again. "Your mom is your personal fucktoy tonight."
I came twice more before we finally collapsed, her body curled against mine, my cum leaking down her thighs. She reached back, found my hand, and squeezed it.
"Tomorrow night," she murmured, already half-asleep. "Don't make me wait."
I kissed the back of her neck and pulled her closer. The night was over, but the hunger between us never was.
