She walked into the living room wearing nothing but that thin silk robe, the one that barely covered her ass. I was twenty-five, home from college for the summer, and she knew exactly what she was doing. "Your father's gone for the weekend," she said, voice low and direct. "It's just us." Her tits pressed against the fabric, nipples hard, and I didn't look away. She noticed and smiled like a filthy secret had finally cracked open.
I stood up from the couch, cock already thickening in my shorts. "You want this, Mom?" I asked, grabbing it through the fabric so she could see the outline. No slow buildup, no pretending. She dropped the robe right there, letting it pool at her feet. Her body was thick in all the right places, heavy tits with dark nipples, wide hips, and a shaved pussy that looked wet already. "I've seen the way you stare," she said. "Now fuck me like you mean it."
She dropped to her knees without another word, yanking my shorts down. My cock sprang free and she took it straight into her mouth, no teasing licks, just wet suction and her tongue working the underside. She gagged on the first deep push but didn't pull back. Spit ran down her chin as she bobbed, one hand cupping my balls, the other sliding between her own legs to rub her clit. The sounds were loud and nasty: slurping, choking, her moans vibrating around my shaft.
I grabbed her hair and fucked her face harder. "That's it, take your son's cock," I growled. She looked up at me with watery eyes, mascara already smearing, and nodded around the thickness in her throat. When I pulled out she gasped, strings of spit connecting her lips to my dick. "Bedroom," she ordered, standing and walking ahead so I could watch her ass sway.
She climbed onto the bed on all fours, ass up, pussy spread and glistening. I lined up behind her and slammed in with one thrust. She was tight and hot, gripping me like she hadn't been fucked in years. "Harder," she demanded, pushing back to meet every stroke. The bed creaked. Skin slapped. I reached under and pinched her nipples while I pounded, then slid a thumb over her asshole just to feel her clench. "You like that, you dirty fucking mom?" I said. She moaned yes and begged for more.
I flipped her onto her back, hooked her legs over my shoulders, and drove in deep. Her tits bounced with every thrust. She reached down to rub her clit in fast circles, eyes locked on mine. "Cum inside me," she said, voice raw. "Fill your mother's pussy." I fucked her faster, balls slapping against her ass, until I felt her walls squeeze and she came hard, crying out and soaking the sheets. That pushed me over. I buried myself to the hilt and pumped thick loads into her, pulse after pulse, until it leaked out around my cock.
We didn't stop there. She rolled me onto my back and straddled me, guiding my still-hard dick back inside. She rode me rough, grinding her clit against me, tits swinging in my face. I sucked one nipple hard while she used me, telling me how long she'd wanted this, how she'd touched herself thinking about her son's cock. When she came again she collapsed forward, biting my shoulder, and I flipped her once more, taking her from behind until I filled her a second time.
By the time we were done the room smelled like sex and sweat. She lay beside me, cum dripping from her well-fucked pussy, and smiled that same filthy smile. "Next weekend," she said, "your father travels again." I was already getting hard thinking about it. No shame, no hesitation. Just raw need, exactly the way we both wanted it.
