We'd been dancing around it for months, ever since the divorce papers were signed and it was just the two of us in the house. I was twenty-two, home from college for the summer, and Mom had started walking around the place like she didn't care what she showed. One hot afternoon the AC crapped out and she stripped down to nothing in the kitchen, tits out, ass bare, acting like it was the most normal thing. "It's just skin, baby," she said, pouring us both iced tea. "We've both got it.
No point pretending."
That first time we stayed naked together stretched into hours. We sat on the couch watching some dumb movie, her leg pressed against mine, her nipples stiff from the fan. My cock stayed half-hard the whole time, and she noticed. She didn't look away. Instead she smiled slow and dirty, reached over, and wrapped her fingers around it like she had every right. "Been a long time since I touched one of these," she muttered, stroking me with firm, lazy pulls. "Feels good, doesn't it?"
I groaned and let her do it. Her hand was warm and sure, thumb rubbing over the head every few strokes, spreading the precum. She watched my face the whole time, eyes dark, biting her lip when I started thrusting into her fist. "That's it," she whispered. "Show me how much you like Mommy's hand on your cock." When I came it shot up over her knuckles and onto her stomach. She laughed low and rubbed it into her skin like lotion.
After that the clothes stayed off. Every morning I'd wake up and find her already naked in the kitchen, coffee in one hand, the other between her legs while she leaned on the counter. She'd look me right in the eye and keep rubbing her clit, slow circles, telling me how wet she got thinking about me. "You want to watch?" she'd ask. I'd stand there jerking off while she fingered herself open, two fingers sliding in and out with wet sounds that filled the room. Sometimes she'd turn around and bend over the table so I could see everything, pink pussy glistening, asshole winking every time she clenched.
We stopped pretending it was innocent fast. One night she climbed into my bed, straddled my hips, and sank down on my cock without a word. She was tight and hot, dripping down my balls as she rode me. "Fuck, you're so big," she panted, hands on my chest, tits bouncing. "Fill Mommy up." I grabbed her ass and slammed up into her, the bed creaking, skin slapping loud and filthy. She came first, cunt squeezing me like a fist, then I flipped her onto her back and fucked her until I unloaded deep inside.
We fucked everywhere after that. In the shower with her pressed against the tiles, water running over us while I pounded her from behind and reached around to rub her clit. On the living room floor with her on all fours, me gripping her hips and calling her every dirty name that came to mind while she begged for it harder. She loved when I pulled out and came on her tits or face, loved licking it off her own skin and then kissing me so I could taste it too.
The best was the afternoon we spent on the back deck, completely naked under the sun. She had me sit on the lounge chair and climbed on facing me, guiding my cock into her slick cunt and grinding slow. "Tell me how good it feels," she demanded, rolling her hips. "Tell me you love fucking your own mother." I did, voice rough, hands full of her ass, watching her pussy stretch around me. She came shaking, nails digging into my shoulders, then kept riding until I filled her again.
By the end of the summer we didn't bother with separate beds. She'd wake me up with her mouth on my cock, sucking sloppy and deep, gagging herself on it just to hear me moan. I'd eat her out on the kitchen table until she was dripping onto the wood, then fuck her right there. It was raw and constant and exactly what we both needed. No guilt, no stopping. Just skin on skin, dirty words, and the wet sounds of two people who couldn't get enough of each other.
We knew it couldn't last forever, but while it did we made every day count. Naked, hard, wet, and completely lost in it.
