The house was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of settling wood. I stood in the kitchen doorway, watching my mom at the sink. She wore a thin silk robe that clung to her curves, the fabric barely covering the swell of her hips. At 42 she was still the woman who turned heads, and tonight something in the air felt different, charged.
She turned, catching my gaze. "Couldn't sleep either, honey?" Her voice was soft, but her eyes lingered on me longer than usual. I was 22, home from college for the break, and the tension between us had been building for days.
I stepped closer. "Mom, we need to talk about what's been happening." My words came out rough, direct. She set down the glass, her robe slipping open just enough to reveal the lace edge of her panties.
Instead of answering, she moved toward me. Her hand brushed my chest, then slid lower. "I've seen how you look at me," she said plainly. "And I've been looking back." Her fingers found my cock through my shorts, stroking firmly. "No more pretending."
I pulled her against me, kissing her hard. Our mouths met with hunger, tongues sliding deep. She tasted like wine and need. I untied her robe, letting it fall open. Her breasts were full, nipples already tight. I sucked one into my mouth, biting lightly while my hand cupped the other.
She moaned and pushed me back against the counter. "Take these off," she ordered, tugging at my shorts. I stripped them away. My cock sprang free, thick and hard. She wrapped her fingers around it, pumping slowly at first, then faster. "Fuck, you're big," she muttered. "Just like I imagined."
Dropping to her knees, she took me in her mouth. Her lips stretched around the head, tongue swirling as she sucked me deeper. Spit ran down my shaft while she worked me, one hand cupping my balls. I gripped her hair, thrusting gently into her throat. She gagged but didn't stop, eyes watering with lust.
I lifted her up and spun her around. Bending her over the table, I yanked her panties aside. Her pussy was soaked, lips puffy and slick. I rubbed the head of my cock along her slit, teasing her clit before slamming inside in one thrust. She cried out, pushing back against me. "Yes, fuck your mom," she gasped. "Give it to me hard."
I pounded into her, the wet slap of skin filling the kitchen. Her walls gripped me tight, hot and pulsing. I reached around to rub her clit in tight circles. She came fast, shaking and moaning my name, juices dripping down her thighs. I didn't slow down.
I fucked her through it, then pulled out and turned her to face me.
Lifting her onto the table, I spread her legs wide and drove back in. Her tits bounced with every thrust. She clawed at my back, legs locked around me. "Deeper," she demanded. "Fill me up." I slammed harder, balls slapping against her ass. Sweat slicked our bodies. When I felt my orgasm build, I pulled out and stroked myself over her stomach and tits, thick ropes of cum painting her skin.
She smiled up at me, rubbing my load into her breasts. "We're not done," she said, sliding off the table. "Bedroom. Now."
We moved upstairs. In her room she pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top. She sank down onto my cock again, riding me with grinding hips. Her pussy milked me, slick and greedy. I thrust up to meet her, hands squeezing her ass. She leaned forward, feeding a nipple into my mouth while she bounced. We switched positions again, me behind her, doggy style, pounding relentlessly until she came a second time, screaming into the pillow.
Finally I flipped her onto her back, legs over my shoulders. I fucked her deep and steady, watching her face twist in pleasure. When I came, I buried myself to the hilt, pumping load after load into her pulsing cunt. She held me there, clenching around me, both of us breathing hard.
We lay tangled afterward, her head on my chest. "This stays between us," she whispered. But the way her hand stroked my softening cock told me the night was only the beginning.
