I had just turned eighteen when it started, but the tension had been building for months. Mom walked around the house in those tiny shorts and tank tops, her heavy tits barely contained, her ass swaying like she knew exactly what it did to me. Dad was gone on another long haul, leaving us alone in the big empty house.
One humid Friday night, I came home from a party, half-drunk and horny as hell. Mom was in the kitchen, bent over the counter in a short silk robe that rode up her thighs. She turned when she heard me, and the robe slipped open just enough to show the curve of her bare breast.
"Couldn't sleep," she said, voice low. "You look worked up."
I didn't answer with words. I stepped close, grabbed her hips, and pulled her against me. My cock was already hard, pressing into her stomach. She didn't push me away. Instead, she reached down and squeezed it through my jeans.
"Fuck, you've been wanting this," she whispered. "Your own mother."
I yanked the robe off her shoulders. Her tits spilled out, nipples dark and stiff. I sucked one into my mouth while my hand slid between her legs. She was soaked, no panties, just wet pussy lips under my fingers. I shoved two inside her and pumped hard. She moaned, grinding down on my hand.
"Bedroom," she gasped. "Now."
We didn't make it that far. I bent her over the kitchen table, kicked her legs apart, and freed my cock. It slapped against her ass, thick and leaking. She reached back, spread herself open, and I slammed into her in one thrust. Her cunt was tight, hot, and dripping. I fucked her like I hated her, balls slapping, table scraping the floor.
"Harder, you little bastard," she growled. "Fuck your mom's pussy."
I did. I pounded her deep, one hand fisting her hair, the other slapping her ass red. She came first, screaming, clenching around me, juices running down her thighs. I didn't stop. I flipped her onto her back on the table, hooked her legs over my shoulders, and drilled her until I flooded her cunt with thick ropes of cum.
We didn't talk about it the next morning. But that afternoon, she called me into the shower. She was on her knees before the water even warmed up, sucking my cock like a porn star, gagging, spit dripping off her chin while she looked up at me with those dirty mom eyes.
"Give it to me," she said around my shaft. "Fill your mother's mouth."
I held her head and throat-fucked her until I shot down her throat. She swallowed every drop, then licked me clean.
It became our secret. Every night Dad was away, we fucked like animals. On the couch while a movie played, her riding me reverse cowgirl, ass bouncing. In the laundry room, bent over the dryer, my cock buried in her ass after I lubed it with her own spit. She loved it when I talked filthy.
"Tell me what a slut you are for your son's dick," I'd demand, spanking her.
"Your dirty mom slut," she'd moan back. "Use me. Breed me if you want."
We got bolder. One afternoon she sucked me off in the garage with the door open, anyone could have walked by. Another time I woke her up at 3 a.m. by sliding into her from behind in her bed, pumping slow and deep until she came with her face buried in the pillow to stay quiet.
The rawest night was when she dressed up in lingerie she bought just for me. Black stockings, garter belt, no bra. She made me sit on the couch and watch while she fingered herself, then crawled over and impaled herself on my cock. We fucked for hours, switching positions, her riding, me on top, doggy, her legs pinned back. I came in her pussy, then in her mouth, then again across her tits. She rubbed it into her skin and licked her fingers.
We never stopped. The risk only made it hotter. Mom and son, crossing every line, fucking like the porn we both secretly watched. Her body became mine to use whenever we wanted, and she used mine just as hard. Every time I sank into her wet heat, it felt like the dirtiest, best secret in the world.
And we kept it going, night after night, raw and relentless.
