I never planned on fucking my mom. It just happened one sticky summer night when Dad was out of town and the house felt too quiet. I was twenty-two, home from college, and she was forty-five, still hot as hell in those thin nightgowns she wore around the house. We were both a little drunk on wine after dinner. She laughed at something I said and leaned over to kiss my cheek, but her lips brushed the corner of my mouth instead. Neither of us pulled away.
"Jake," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. "We shouldn't."
But her hand was already on my thigh, sliding higher. I was hard instantly. She felt it through my shorts and let out a low moan that went straight to my cock. I grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand right onto it.
"Then stop," I told her.
She didn't. Her fingers squeezed me through the fabric, slow and firm. "You're so big," she said. "Bigger than your father." That dirty little detail made my head spin. I stood up, pulled my shorts down, and let my cock spring free right in front of her face. Mom stared at it for a second, licked her lips, then wrapped her soft hand around the shaft and started stroking.
I fucked her mouth first. She got on her knees on the living room carpet, nightgown pulled down so her heavy tits spilled out. She took me deep, gagging a little when I hit the back of her throat, but she kept going. Spit ran down her chin onto her breasts. I held her hair and thrust, watching my mom's lips stretch around my dick like it was the hottest thing I'd ever seen.
When I couldn't take it anymore I hauled her up, bent her over the arm of the couch, and yanked her nightgown up to her waist. She wasn't wearing panties. Her pussy was shaved smooth and already dripping. I rubbed the head of my cock through her wet folds a few times, then shoved in hard. Mom cried out, pushing back against me.
"Fuck me," she begged. "Fuck your mother like you mean it."
I did. I pounded her deep and rough, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Her tits swung under her with every thrust. I reached around and rubbed her clit while I drilled her, feeling her pussy clench and flutter around my cock. She came first, shaking and moaning my name, juices running down her thighs. I kept going until I was right on the edge, then pulled out and painted her ass and lower back with thick ropes of cum.
We didn't talk much after that. We just cleaned up and went to our separate rooms. But the next night she came to my bedroom wearing nothing but a smile.
This time she rode me. She climbed on top, sank down on my cock with a long sigh, and started grinding. Her tits bounced in my face. I sucked her nipples while she used my dick like a toy, rolling her hips in slow circles until she was dripping all over my balls. When she leaned down to kiss me I tasted wine and her own pussy from earlier. We fucked like that for a long time, switching positions whenever one of us got close. Doggy again, then me on top with her legs over my shoulders so I could get even deeper.
"Fill me up," she whispered. "I want to feel it inside."
I came deep in her cunt, pumping load after load while she held me tight and came with me. After that we stopped pretending it was a one-time thing.
Every night for the rest of the summer we found new ways to get each other off. She sucked me off in the kitchen while breakfast cooked. I ate her pussy on the dining room table until she squirted on my face. One afternoon we fucked in the pool, her legs wrapped around me while I bounced her on my cock in the water. She loved it when I talked dirty to her.
"Tell me what a slut you are for your son's cock," I'd say while I had her bent over the bathroom sink.
"I'm your slut," she'd answer, voice shaking. "Your mom is your dirty little fucktoy."
We got bolder. She started wearing short skirts with no panties around the house so I could bend her over anytime I wanted. One morning before Dad came home she woke me up with her mouth on my cock, then climbed on and rode me slow and deep until we both came. We didn't stop even after Dad returned. We'd sneak quickies in the garage, in the laundry room, once even in their bedroom while he was in the shower.
The risk made it hotter. The fact that it was wrong only made us want it more. Mom would text me from across the room while we all watched TV, things like "Come fuck me in the bathroom in five minutes" or "I want your cum in my mouth before bed." I'd slip away and she'd follow, drop to her knees, and swallow me like she was starving.
By the end of that summer we had a routine. Every time Dad left for work or a trip we'd spend the whole day naked, fucking wherever we felt like it. She'd cook breakfast wearing only an apron, then I'd bend her over the counter and take her from behind while the bacon sizzled. Afternoons were for long, lazy sessions in my bed or hers. Evenings were quick and frantic before Dad got home.
She never asked me to stop. I never wanted to. We both knew it was fucked up, but that only made the orgasms stronger. The way her pussy gripped me when she came, the filthy things she said, the look in her eyes when she begged for my cum, it was addictive.
We still do it when we can. Dad travels more now. Mom texts me the same way she did that first summer. Sometimes she sends pictures, her fingers spreading her wet pussy with the caption "Waiting for my son." I drive over whenever I can and we fuck like animals until we're both sore and satisfied.
It's not love. It's pure lust, raw and dirty and exactly what we both need. And neither of us has any plans to stop.
