Fucking Under the Caribbean Sun

For good measure - we were newlyweds - we bought a couple teddys.

During lunch Mimi mentioned she'd booked a rumba band for the evening - her favorite had unexpectedly become available - and insisted William and I, in my new lingerie, join her for the show. When I said I knew nothing about the rumba she invited William and I to an impromptu class she and Sanchez, in light of the sudden booking, would lead that afternoon. We signed up. I love to dance.

Mimi and Sanchez, excellent teachers, moved with skill, grace, and passion - you soon forgot they were mother and son - and by the end of the hour I knew that William and I wouldn't embarrass ourselves on the dance floor. I also learned that the rumba is one sexy dance. Emphasizing the hips — the upper body mirrors the hips - it's a dance of courtship and seduction dominated by the woman, who lures her man with charm and sensual movement, then rejects him. His response is to become ever more macho, his dance a physical performance designed to win her favor until finally he becomes the personification of masculine ardor and she turns in his arms and permits him a kiss.

After our lesson we bought those stilettos, 3 ½ inch narrow heel, fricking hot, hit the tennis courts for a couple games, returned to the room. In the shower I didn't masturbate - a little sexual frustration would give my dancing added pizzaz - trimmed my rectangular patch of pubic hair. William volunteered to blow-dry my hair. When my towel slipped to my waist and exposed my breasts I casually worked it back in place.

Time to dress. I sprayed myself and the room with perfume, played rumba music on the television, slipped on my bra. The fit was impeccable, my clothes would look perfect atop it. I slipped the stockings on thinking how shapely and toned my legs were, put on the rest of my lingerie, the stilettos, examined myself in the mirror, looked over my shoulder at my ass.

I was sexy and beautiful and feminine and strong, in a sexy beautiful place, with a sexy beautiful young man who treated me like a queen.

I looked again. The lingerie, complimenting my femininity and power, was perfect.

I considered calling William in, showing him, but decided no, not yet. For now how deliciously hot I looked beneath my clothes would be my secret.

I slipped into my little black dress, fastened my earrings, touched up my make-up, double-checked everything, dabbed some perfume behind my ears and on my wrists, headed for the living room where William, bent forward, was putting on his shoes. In khaki slacks, turtle neck, and shoes polished to a sheen he was magnificent. Hearing me enter he popped to his feet and, eyes alight, grin forming on his face, he walked towards me and said, "My god, you're hot." Delighting in the contrast of the soft cotton fabric and hard muscles underneath I ran my fingers on his chest and our lips came together for a short kiss. My hand went to his upper arm and heart racing I kissed him again. I was feeling things I was not supposed to feel.

I looked up him, wet my lips, said, "I love your cologne."

"It's the first time I've worn it."

I moved my head to his cheek, slowly drew the air into my lungs, said, "Very nice."

* * * * *

We sat out the first couple of dances, watched the other dancers, let the music flow through us, absorbed its passion and rhythm. The rumba is more than movement, it's an attitude.

And while I watched all the dancers my eyes were most often drawn to Mimi and Sanchez, hips in constant motion, bodies one with the music, the effect hypnotizing, sexual. At the end of the second dance Sanchez motioned me to join him, Mimi did the same to William, and after a fiery dance they returned to the table, leaving William and I to each other.

The music started and William took me in his arms. We danced; he approached me; I rejected my suitor. William, calling on all his physical skills, all his machismo, repeatedly offered himself to me. It was a role my handsome powerful son played well, made sexier by the lingerie I wore under my dress and the secret knowledge that my suitor was my son. By pretending to be married, by this choreographed sexual courtship, we were flouting the taboo. I loved it.

And we did so again. The rumba ends with the woman accepting her lover, their mouths coming together for a kiss, and at the end of the dance William pressed his mouth to mine, his lips, full and strong, folded over mine. There was a charge in the core of my being.

Throughout our next dance I looked forward to those lips and when they came my tongue grazed them with a surge of arousal that could not be denied.

The band began again and I looked at him through hungry hooded eyes and wet my lips in anticipation of our kiss and when it came my tongue moved into his mouth and my stomach growled with desire.

And when the next dance ended he held my body to his and his tongue, moving with the rhythm of the dance entered my mouth.

After announcing this was the final number of the set the band played with a throbbing intensity and we danced and my breasts were swollen and skin flushed and there was a burn throughout my body and when the dance ended I parted my lips and stroked his tongue as it moved into my mouth and knew everyone was looking us, the newlyweds hot and hungry for each other, and no one expected us to wait for the second set.

The kiss ended and William, his voice full of need, said, "Let's go back to the room."

There was no need to say why.

We thanked Mimi and Sanchez for inviting us, headed for our room, two horny newlyweds who cared nothing for decorum.

William scooped me up, carried me over the threshold, closed the door, lowered me to the ground, and I attacked him. Pressing him to the wall, my mouth was on his. My tongue explored his lips, mouth, teeth, at first frantically then, as his strong tongue curled on and played with mine, more deliberately and with blistering heat.

His hand went to my back, drew down the zipper of my dress.

I moved my mouth to his ear, licked it, nipped his ear lobe, and when he was done with the zipper said, "What do you think?" and stepped back. The dress slid down my body, pooled at my feet. I stood, offering myself for inspection in heels, bra, garters, straps, stockings.

His eyes were eager and pleased and I knew he liked what he saw and he didn't need to say it but he said it anyway.

"You make that shit look good."

Kicking my dress to the side I stepped towards him, slipped my hands under his shirt, and fingers outstretched moved them up his chest,, said, "You're sweet," kissed his mouth, then taking hold of the hem of his shirt and tee-shirt pulled them over his head, held them to my face. Damp with his perspiration - our dance had been vigorous - his scent was strong, intoxicating. I turned my head up, looked into his eyes, smiled, and after a second he said, "What is it?"

"It doesn't feel wrong."

"I know. It's like all this pretending allowed me a fresh view of reality, at what is possible, what is desirable, even if forbidden. I want you, why shouldn't I have you?"

I unbuckled his belt, pulled it free of his pants, said, "Then you'll have me," and placed my palm atop his erection, traced the outline of his cock-head with my thumb.

He dropped his head, kissed me, a slow passionate kiss, pulled his head away, said, "Wow, that feels good."

I worked his pants over his hips, touched his erection through his boxers, ran a finger up its length. "I've been peeking at this big boy. It's beautiful."

He said, "Should we move this to the bedroom?"

I said, "Yeah, the bedroom."

One of his hands holding mine, the other holding up his pants, we scuttled to the bed, where he sat and I knelt, showing off my cleavage. I untied his shoes, pulled them and his pants off his feet, and hung everything up, giving him the opportunity to study his mother in heels and lingerie. I enjoyed his eyes following me.

He said, "Rocky, you're some sexy."

I struck a pose, turned to face him, and allowing myself for the first time to completely and openly to enjoy the sight scanned my son's body. He was perfect.

When I was done I said, "So you think your mother is sexy?"

He stood, said, "I do," and held me not as his mother, but as a woman. I buried my head in his shoulder, kissed his skin, turned my gaze to his face, pecked his lips, did it again. The third time my tongue ran along his lower lip, moved inside his mouth. His tongue welcomed it, played with it, then slithered into my mouth. The kiss went on and on and his hands, gliding on the silken fabric, moved down the side of my body to my waist. I turned in his arms, felt my breasts on his chest, felt his dick, hard and hot and throbbing, trapped between us.

I wanted to suck that cock.

I placed his hands on my bare shoulders, said, "William, please sit down," and shivering with excitement dropped to my knees. I glanced at the mirror, saw myself in lingerie and heels kneeling before my naked son in a pose classic and submissive. Eyes sparkling with mischief and desire I brought my face to his dick, took a deep breath. Stiff, warm, and hard, its bright veins pulsed with blood, pre-cum dripped from it. He smelled like a man. I licked the head, he tasted like a man.

If I was going to suck my son's cock I wanted him to participate.

Heart beating rapidly I said, "You can have anything you want, but I want to hear it you say it, you've got to tell your mother what you want."

Seeing that the broken taboo excited me he said, "Touch your son's cock, then kiss it."

Wrapping my fingers on the shaft I kissed the tip, rubbed my soft bottom lip on the underside of the crown. Seeing the amount of pre-cum dripping from him I licked and kissed the head, then moved away. William groaned, a strand of pre-cum clinging to my lower lip stretched between us; it broke, swung down and across my chin. I opened my mouth, held it an inch from his cock, blew a stream of air on it. William's grip on my shoulders tightened, holding me in place as he dragged his cock-head across my face, smearing my lips with fresh pre-cum, on my cheeks and chin, and recalling my admonition - he had to say it - said, "C'mon Rocky, Mom, suck me."

I closed my eyes and William drove his cock into my warm soft moist mouth, moved it in and out. My lips clamped on him, I sucked while my tongue lathered attention on the oversized intruder. He looked down and I, eyes now open, clear and sparkling with pleasure and need, looked up, urging him on. Driven, like me, by repressed forbidden desire he grew more aggressive, thrust harder; I wrapped my hand on the base of his shaft, twisted. My breathing grew ragged, my lips numb, until I gagged and William, reining in his passion, pulled out.

"You okay Mom?"

I stretched my jaw, swallowed, said, "Just needed a quick break, that's quite a dick you're toting. Use my mouth, fuck it like a cunt," and took him back inside, moving forward until he reached the back of my mouth. He slid a hand into my hair while I feathered the underside of the shaft with my tongue, rotated my head, moving his dick around inside my mouth, squeezed the shaft.

I kept going; his breathing flattened out, his fingers in my hair relaxed, his thick dick swelled. Recalling the taste of the drop of his semen I'd found on the bed I cupped his testicles, palpitated them, my motion gentle and insistent. They pulsed, pulled back into his body, jerked, and with a sharp groan erupting from his solar plexus the deluge came. This, however, was not my first rodeo. I swallowed every salty musky drop, continued sucking as he flopped back onto the bed.

After licking the head and sides I joined him. We cuddled, touched, and when he returned to cogent I moved my head onto his chest and said, "So whatta ya think, does your mother know how to suck cock?"

Laying his arm across my shoulder he said, "Sure does," then added in a tone unexpectedly serious, "I don't want this just for tonight, just for the resort, I don't see why we should stop."

Drawing random shapes on his stomach with a finger I said, "Do you understand the consequences of you and I as lovers?"

"Probably not, but you didn't say no."

Picking myself up on my elbows I pushed the hair from my face and said, "No, I didn't, and maybe everything has changed, but let's take this one day at a time, see what happens. Plus I've found men should always avoid making big decisions after a blow job."

He slipped his hand behind my neck, worked my muscles, said, "Good point. Okay, we'll see what happens," and kissed me. Unlike other guys he didn't mind the taste of cock and cum on my lips and in my mouth; score one for him.

He kissed me again, cupped my breast, ran the side of his thumb over my nipple and areola, rubbed the silken fabric of my bra into them. I reached for his penis; it was thick with blood.

I sat up, asked him to unsnap my bra. After briefly struggling with the mechanism he did and I lay it on the table, turned to him, my breasts swaying with the motion, said, "Help me with the panties, stockings, won't you?" and moving to the head of the bed leaned against the elegant headboard, my legs outstretched and still sporting heels before me. William curled his fingers into the hem of my panties, pulled. After briefly clinging to my wet sex they moved half way down my thighs.

"You trimmed."

"You been checking out your mother's privates?"

"Yeah, is it a problem?"

"No, I haven't noticed you do it. You've been subtle, a gentleman, which is good. I trimmed it in the shower before we went dancing. It makes me feel sexy. You like?"

He leaned forward and I spread my legs, opening myself as far as the panties, still wrapped around my thighs, allowed. William, staring at my sex, inhaled his mother's love, passion, and lust, and said, "Very much, sexy, very beautiful," then sat up, slipped my shoes from my feet, undid the buckles of my garter, and his touch, sure, sweet, and sensual, rolled my stockings down my legs, then removed my panties. With an appreciative smile he held my ankles and kissed my feet, ran his tongue between, sucked my toes, scraped their pads with his front teeth. My eyes fixed on him I reached down, stroked a finger from my vaginal lips, swollen, open, and wet, through the folds of my labia, across my clit. My motion was measured and deliberate, not hard or quick enough to bring myself off but enough to feel real fricking good. My son's happy eyes showed he enjoyed the show.

William placed my feet down, leaned forward, and slowly and forcefully, with the flat of his tongue, licked the face of my sex. My body jerked, "Uuuuuunnnnnhhhhhhhh," exploded from my mouth.

His soft strong tongue swept up and down, probed the face of my vagina, ran over cunt, vagina, labia, clit, perineum, moved inside me. My hips swaying and gyrating I covered his head with a hand. My ecstatic whimpers joined William's exhalations of delight.

My son was eating my cunt.

My labia pulsed, my clit burned; the fire inside me, fueled by this exotic place, the days of sexual tension, William's devotion and skill, and the shattered taboo, burned fast and bright. My son's relentless tongue and lips continued their work; my whimpers became gasps, moans, cries of passion. Turning his focus to my clit my son sucked it into his mouth, trapped it with pursed lips, swatted it with his tongue, over-and-over, pushed a single finger inside me, bent it at the knuckle, dragged its tip on the roof of my vagina.

The pressure in my clit and g-spot grew, merged. Hips undulating I cradled my breasts, rolled my nipples between thumb and index fingers, emitted a string of short hard intense "unnnnhhsss." I had to come, needed to come, and then losing all control I detonated. An orgasm spread through my body with the power of a gravity wave born with the merger of two black holes, leaving me wasted and spent. I lay still, eyes closed, sucking in air, my cunt, my toes, my fingers and teeth tingled.

William moved up the bed next to me. I turned to him, a thin sheen of sweat covering my body, buried my face in his chest. I liked the way he smelled, his warmth.

He kissed the top of my head and said, "You taste good."

With a mumbled, "Mmmmm," I licked his nipple, said, "So do you," reached between my legs, scooped up some moisture, eased back his foreskin, rubbed my juice into the crown, gave a couple vigorous tugs.

He was soon erect and having regained my strength I rolled onto my back, spread my legs, said, "It's time son. Make love to, fuck your mother."

Moving onto his knees, his impressive dick sticking straight up, he stared hungrily at my flushed post-orgasmic body and said, "Y'know, you're beautiful."

Gesturing to him I said, "You're not bad yourself," and he moved forward, holding himself up over my body on his hands. I reached for him, dragged the head of his penis across my sex, placed it at the mouth of my vagina, said, "I'm ready."

He closed his eyes, but did not move inside me. Was he contemplating the enormity of what was about to happen, that he'd be fucking his mother, that I'd be fucking my son? I thought he, a horny teen-aged boy, would be ready to go, but he needed time. I understood. My mother had called me the "wild one" and she'd been right. My sex-life had been far from conservative, I'd swapped, been with men and women, groups, teachers while in high school, professors while in college, but never dreamed I'd go this far.

Coaxing him, I rocked my hips, moved William a few scant millimeters inside me, but it was penetration and when I again said, "I'm ready," William opened his eyes and smiled. Whatever struggle had taken place within him had been resolved. He moved onto his knees, effortlessly hoisted my legs over his shoulders, positioned his cock at the entrance of my gaping cunt, stared at the thick cock-head engorged with blood and nestled at the door of his mother's most sacred private personal place.

It would be the ultimate act of incest, the ultimate act of intimacy, the ultimate act of lust, the ultimate act of love, the ultimate sin. He pushed, his thick erection slid inside me, just an inch, pause, short retreat, again, a little deeper, then again, and again.

He continued moving inside me - his cock seemed to go on forever - until our hips met. I was stretched and stuffed and deliciously full and he, staring at our conjoined bodies, said, "Mom, I'm in you," and I raised my head and looked. My pubic hair, matted with lust and sweat and cream, melded with William's; they were one, we were one. I felt arousal and need and overwhelming love.

I dropped my head to the pillow.

We fucked.

At first I let him do the work. My son, a skilled lover with a big cock, varied angles, rotated his dick inside me, dragged it on my g-spot, massaged my clit with his index and middle fingers. Passivity was soon impossible; my sex quivered and spasmed, swelled and burned. I moved my hips with him, the room echoed with my grunts, his groans, the slick wet sounds of sex. My clit and g-spot throbbed and trembled.

And while this fuck might be the first of many, still it would never be repeated, for it was our first. His hard penis pistoning in my tight velvet softness I started to perform, swinging my hips as if on the dance floor, at first gently, then more actively, sliding my sex on a cock that was plumbing the depths of my soul.

A few minutes ago I'd told him we'd take it, "one day at a time," that, "we'd see what happens," and I'd meant it, but now I knew it was bullshit. Why would I deny myself? We'd spent the last weeks expanding, breaking boundaries and rules, pretending to be lovers, sharing a bed, accepting each other's nakedness. We loved trusted respected each other, were attracted to each other, and now, with the taboo dust at our feet I knew I'd fuck my studly son every chance I got. We couldn't go back to the way it was, and why should we? I was a horny woman, a beautiful horny woman who loved sex, needed sex, who lived with a big-dicked teenager at the height of his sexual powers who needed it as much as I. No, this cock-hungry woman would be ready, whenever, however. And I knew something else: he, as would I, would have other lovers, but there'd never be anyone who'd out-fuck me for he and I had left all boundaries behind.