She needed the cash bad. Rent was due, the lights were already shut off, and her son Jake had just turned eighteen with nothing but a beat-up truck and no job. "Mom, I got an idea," he said one night in the kitchen, both of them half-drunk on cheap beer. "Guys online pay crazy money for real mom-son stuff. We do a video, split the cash, no one ever knows."
I laughed at first, but the next day he showed me the site and the offers. Five hundred for a simple fuck on camera. A grand if we made it look real and dirty. I stared at him, my own son, tall and built from working out, and felt my pussy twitch in a way that made me hate myself. "We can't," I said. But the bills were stacked on the table.
We set up the phone on a tripod in my bedroom. I stripped slow, letting my heavy tits spill out, nipples already hard. Jake watched, rubbing his cock through his jeans. "Fuck, Mom, you're hot," he growled, voice low and raw. I dropped to my knees and yanked his pants down. His dick sprang out thick and veined, bigger than I expected. I wrapped my lips around the head and sucked hard, tasting salt and precum. He grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth, balls slapping my chin.
"That's it, suck your son's cock for money," he muttered.
I gagged but kept going, drool running down my tits. When he pulled out, I climbed on the bed and spread my legs wide. "Come fuck your broke-ass mom," I told him. He climbed between my thighs and slammed into me in one thrust. My cunt was soaked, gripping him tight. He pounded hard, the bed creaking, my tits bouncing. Skin slapped loud. "Deeper, baby," I moaned. "Fill Mommy's pussy."
He flipped me onto all fours and rammed back in, gripping my hips so hard it bruised. Every stroke hit my cervix. I reached back and rubbed my clit, coming hard around his cock, juices squirting down his balls. "Shit, Mom, you're tight," he grunted. He pulled out, flipped me again, and straddled my chest. I pushed my tits together while he fucked the valley between them, cockhead bumping my lips on every thrust. He came with a roar, thick ropes painting my face, tongue, and tits. I licked it up, swallowing what I could while the camera kept rolling.
We sold the video that night. The money hit our account the next morning. Jake looked at me across the table. "Again?" he asked. I nodded. We made three more that week, each dirtier. One where he bent me over the kitchen counter and fucked my ass raw while I begged for his cum. Another where I rode him reverse cowgirl, spreading my cheeks so the camera saw every inch disappearing into my stretched hole. He called me filthy names and I loved it, coming every time he said "Mom."
By the end of the month we had enough to pay everything and then some. But we kept going. One night after a long shoot, he didn't pull out. He stayed buried deep, kissing my neck while his cock softened inside me. "We don't need the money anymore," he whispered. "But I still want this." I pulled him closer, legs locked around his waist. "Then don't stop," I said. We fucked slow and deep until he pumped another load into my pussy, both of us knowing the camera was off but the deal was sealed anyway.
The cash kept coming in from the old videos, and we made new ones when we felt like it. Every time he slid into me it felt dirtier and better. My son, my lover, my paycheck. I stopped feeling guilty the day I came so hard I blacked out with his cum leaking out of me. After that it was just us, raw and real, bodies slamming together for the pure filthy need of it.
