I had been teasing myself with the thought for weeks, staring at my own heavy tits in the mirror every morning and imagining how my son's thick cock would look sliding between them. At 42, my body was still ripe, full D-cup tits that sagged just enough to make a perfect warm valley, and I knew he was 19 now, legal, and hung like his father but younger and harder. The day it happened, he came home from the gym sweaty, shirt off, and I was in the kitchen in a thin tank top with no bra. His eyes locked on my nipples poking through the fabric. I didn't look away. I stepped close, grabbed his hand, and put it on my left tit. "Feel how heavy they are," I said, voice low and dirty. "I want your cock between them right now."
He didn't hesitate. His cock was already straining his shorts. I dropped to my knees on the kitchen floor, yanked his shorts down, and his big dick sprang out, veined and throbbing, the head already leaking. "Fuck, Mom," he groaned, but I didn't give him time to think. I spit on my cleavage, pushed my tits together, and wrapped them around his shaft. The heat of his cock against my soft skin made me moan. I started pumping, sliding up and down, letting the head pop out near my mouth so I could lick it every stroke. Salty precum coated my tongue. His balls slapped the underside of my tits with every thrust.
I talked filthy while I tit-fucked him. "Your cock feels so good between Mommy's tits. Look how it disappears in all this soft flesh. You like fucking these big tits, don't you? Tell me." He grunted yes, hips jerking faster. I squeezed tighter, letting my spit and his precum make everything slick and sloppy. My nipples were rock hard, rubbing against his stomach. I could feel my pussy dripping down my thighs. When he got close, I opened my mouth wide and let him shoot straight onto my tongue and across my tits. Thick ropes of cum painted my chest, dripping down between my cleavage. I rubbed it in like lotion, then licked my fingers clean while he watched, still hard.
We didn't stop there. I stood up, peeled off my tank top, and bent over the counter. "Fuck my pussy now," I ordered. He slammed into me from behind, one hand reaching around to grab my cum-slick tits. He pinched my nipples hard while he pounded me, his cock stretching me deep. Every thrust made my tits swing and slap together. I came fast, screaming, my walls clenching around him. He pulled out and spun me around, pushing me to my knees again. This time he fucked my mouth while I held my tits up for him to slap his wet cock against. "You want more of these tits?" I asked between sucks. He nodded, eyes glazed.
Later that night I rode him on the couch, my tits bouncing in his face. He sucked one nipple while I ground down on his cock, then lifted me so he could slide between my tits again from below. I held them together and bounced, making him fuck upward into the soft tunnel. His hands gripped my ass, spreading me, and he came again, shooting up between my tits and onto my neck. Cum ran down my chest in sticky trails.
I smeared it over my nipples and fed it to him, making him taste himself off my skin.
We kept going all weekend. Morning blowjobs turned into tit-fucks. Shower sex where he soaped my tits and slid his cock between them under the spray. Afternoon quickies where I just pulled my shirt down, let my tits spill out, and jerked him off onto them. He loved when I talked nasty. "Shoot that load all over Mommy's tits. Paint them white. I want to feel every drop." By Sunday night my chest was sore and marked from his hands and cock, but I was satisfied in a way I hadn't been in years. He was already hard again when I climbed into his bed that night, tits swinging, ready for more.
