I walked in on my son pounding his cock like a man possessed. There he was, 25 years old, sprawled on his bed with his jeans around his ankles and his thick shaft in his fist, stroking hard and fast while a video of some older woman getting railed played on his laptop. I should have turned around. I should have shut the door and pretended I never saw a goddamn thing. Instead I stood there frozen, watching his balls slap against his hand and hearing the wet sounds of his pre-cum slicking up that veiny dick.
"Jesus, Mom," he grunted when he noticed me, but he didn't stop. His eyes locked on mine and his fist kept moving, slower now, almost like he wanted me to watch. "You caught me."
My pussy clenched at the words. I'd been thinking about him for months, ever since he moved back home after the divorce. Those late-night talks, the way he looked at me when I bent over in my robe. Now here he was, caught red-handed, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted that cock inside me.
"Keep going," I told him, voice low and rough. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. "Don't stop on my account."
He groaned, fist tightening. "You serious?"
I pulled my shirt off and let my heavy tits spill free. His eyes went wide. "Dead serious. You want to fuck your mother? Then fuck her. But you're going to do it right."
He was on me in seconds. His hands grabbed my ass, yanking me close so I could feel that hard cock pressing against my stomach. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around him, stroking slow and tight just the way I knew he liked from all those times I'd listened through the wall. He was bigger than his father, thicker, and already leaking for me.
"Turn around," he ordered, voice dirty and demanding. "Hands on the bed."
I bent over exactly like he wanted, ass up, and he ripped my shorts down. No teasing. He lined up and shoved that fat cock straight into my soaked cunt in one hard thrust. I cried out, loud and filthy, as he bottomed out. He didn't give me time to adjust.
He just started fucking me like he'd been waiting years for it, hips snapping, balls slapping against my clit with every stroke.
"Fuck, Mom, you're so tight," he growled, one hand fisting my hair while the other slapped my ass hard enough to sting. "This what you wanted when you caught me? Wanted your son balls-deep in this greedy pussy?"
"Yes," I moaned, pushing back to meet every thrust. "Harder. Make me feel it."
He gave it to me. Pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, again and again, until the wet sounds of my cunt taking him filled the room. I came first, shaking and gushing around his cock, but he didn't stop. He flipped me onto my back, threw my legs over his shoulders, and kept pounding. His mouth found my tits, sucking and biting while he fucked me through another orgasm.
When he was close he pulled out, straddled my chest, and jerked that slick cock over my face. "Open up," he said. I did. He came in thick ropes across my tongue and lips, some of it splashing my tits. I swallowed what I could and licked the rest off his fingers when he fed it to me.
We didn't stop there. He ate my pussy until I was screaming again, then fucked me slow and deep from behind while we watched the video he'd been jerking to earlier. This time it was us on the screen in his head. By the time we finally collapsed, sweaty and spent, the sheets were ruined and we both knew this was only the beginning.
Every time I caught him after that, we didn't bother pretending anymore. I just dropped to my knees or bent over whatever was closest and let my son use me exactly how we both needed.
