I walked into the kitchen that Friday night and there she was, bent over the sink rinsing a glass, her robe riding up just enough to show the bottom curve of her ass. Mom had been divorced for three years and lately she’d been walking around the house like she wanted to be caught. I was twenty-four, home from the city for the weekend, and every time I looked at her my cock got hard in seconds.
She turned around, nipples pushing against the thin silk. “You’re staring again, Jake.”
“Hard not to.” I didn’t bother hiding the bulge in my jeans. “You keep dressing like that and I’m gonna do something about it.”
Mom set the glass down and leaned back against the counter, legs parting a little. “Maybe that’s the point. You’ve been walking around here with that thick cock tenting your pants for two days. You think I haven’t noticed?”
I crossed the room fast, grabbed her hips, and pulled her against me. Her robe fell open. No panties. Just smooth shaved pussy and heavy tits. I slid two fingers straight into her cunt. She was already soaked.
“Fuck, Mom, you’re dripping.”
She moaned and rocked on my fingers. “Been wet since you got home. Been thinking about my son’s cock stretching me open.”
I yanked the robe off her shoulders and spun her around, bending her over the counter. My jeans hit the floor and I slapped my cock against her ass a couple times before shoving it in. She was tight and hot and she pushed back hard, taking every inch.
“Goddamn, yes,” she hissed. “Fuck your mother like you mean it.”
I pounded her right there, the wet slap of skin loud in the kitchen. Her tits swung and she reached down to rub her clit while I drilled her. Every time I bottomed out she grunted and begged for more.
“Harder, baby. Make it hurt a little.”
I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, slamming into her until the counter creaked. She came fast, cunt pulsing around my cock, juices running down her thighs. I didn’t stop. I kept fucking her through it until I felt my balls tighten.
“Gonna fill you up, Mom.”
“Do it. Cum in your mother’s pussy.”
I buried myself deep and unloaded, thick ropes pumping into her while she moaned and squeezed me. When I pulled out, cum leaked out and dripped onto the floor.
She turned around, dropped to her knees, and sucked me clean, tongue swirling over every inch. “Tastes good mixed with me,” she said, licking her lips.
We didn’t make it to the bedroom. I fucked her again on the living room couch, this time with her riding me, tits bouncing in my face while she told me how long she’d wanted her son’s cock. She came twice more before I flipped her onto her back and fucked another load into her.
Later, in the shower, she soaped my cock and jerked me off against her stomach, then got on all fours so I could take her ass for the first time. She was loud, filthy, telling me to wreck her, to use her like the dirty mom she was. I came deep in her ass while she fingered her clit and screamed.
By morning we were still going. She woke me with her mouth, sucking me slow and sloppy until I was rock hard, then climbed on and rode me reverse so I could watch my cock disappear into her cum-filled pussy. We talked the whole time—nasty, explicit, no holding back.
“Tell me how much you love fucking your own mother.”
“Love it. Love how tight your cunt is. Love filling you with my cum.”
She came again, shaking, then slid off and presented her ass. “One more time before breakfast.”
I took her from behind on the bed, slow and deep at first, then hard and fast, both of us sweating and grunting until I pumped another load into her. We collapsed, sticky and satisfied.
Mom looked over her shoulder, eyes half-lidded. “We’re doing this every time you come home now.”
I kissed the back of her neck. “Every single time.”
We stayed in bed until noon, fucking and talking dirty, making up for all the years we’d pretended we didn’t want exactly this. No more pretending. Just raw, wet, endless sex between a son and his mom who finally stopped fighting what they both needed.
