I never planned on fucking my own mother. It just happened one humid night when the power went out in our small apartment and the heat pressed down like a second skin. Mom had raised me alone after Dad split, working double shifts at the hospital, always coming home tired but still making sure I had clean clothes and hot meals. At twenty-two I was supposed to be out on my own, but rent in the city was brutal and she liked having me around. We were close, maybe too close, sharing the same dark sense of humor and the same deep brown skin that glowed under the single candle she lit when the lights died.
She came out of her bedroom wearing nothing but an old cotton slip that clung to her full breasts and wide hips. The fabric was thin from years of washing, and in the flickering light I could see the dark circles of her nipples pressing against it. Too damn hot to sleep, she said, fanning herself with one hand. Her voice was low, tired, but there was something else underneath it, something that made my cock twitch in my shorts before I could stop it.
We sat on the couch together, sharing a bottle of water because the fridge was warm. Her thigh brushed mine. Neither of us moved away. The silence stretched until it felt electric. Then she looked at me, really looked, and said, You been staring at me different lately, baby.
I could have lied. Instead I told the truth. Youre beautiful, Ma. Always have been.
She laughed once, short and shaky, then leaned in and kissed me. Not the quick peck on the cheek she usually gave. This was slow, open-mouthed, her tongue sliding against mine like she had been waiting years for permission. My hand found her breast through the slip and she moaned into my mouth, pushing into my palm.
We didnt talk much after that. She pulled the slip over her head and I stripped off my shorts. Her body was thick and soft, the kind of body that had carried and fed me, now offered up for something else. I sucked one heavy nipple into my mouth while my fingers found the wet heat between her legs. She was already dripping, slick and hot, and when I pushed two fingers inside her she grabbed my wrist and rode them.
Fuck me, she whispered, voice raw. Right here. Dont make me wait.
I laid her back on the couch and slid into her in one long thrust. Her pussy gripped me tight, hotter than anything Id ever felt. We moved together like we had done this a hundred times, her legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my ass, pulling me deeper. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the dark room. She came first, biting my shoulder to keep from crying out too loud, her walls pulsing around my cock. I followed right after, pumping thick ropes of cum deep inside her until it leaked out around my shaft.
We didnt stop there. The night was long and the power stayed off until dawn. She rode me on the living-room floor, her heavy tits swinging, sweat rolling down her stomach. I took her from behind over the kitchen table, watching my cock disappear into her again and again while she pushed back against every stroke. When I ate her pussy she held my head and ground against my tongue, telling me exactly how she liked it, how no one had ever made her feel this way.
By morning we were sticky and sore, lying tangled on her bed. She traced circles on my chest and said, This stays between us. But I dont want it to be the only time.
I kissed the top of her head and answered, It wont be.
We both knew the line we had crossed, and neither of us planned on going back.
