How I Had Sex With My Mother

Except my mom's ass looked far more delicious than any dessert...

"Hey, I forgot to get creamer," I lied, stepping even closer, our bodies touching, and I purposely pressed my cock to her ass. Then I dry-humped into her ass, with a gentle thrust, and my dick hardened to a full erection. I was only in a white t-shirt and black silk boxers and could easily spot the tent I was pitching.

"Oh..." she cooed, not stopping me, so I continued.

Mmmmmmm... I smelled in more of her sweet scent, and then placed my hands on her hips and slid my hands back, cupped the outer edges of her ass. My God, it was somehow soft as a feather yet firm.

The heat of her ass tickled at my dick and I rested my head on her shoulder, kissed her cheek. Then I began to slowly dry-fuck my dick at her ass, and the friction caused her to moan, press her eyes shut.

Okay, it was on now, I thought. I couldn't believe she was letting me dry-fuck her. God, her ass was incredible on my dick, like two soft pillows.

I kissed the nape of her neck, which made her moan again, but when I went to kiss her lips, we made eye contact and her bright blue eyes bulged big as boulders.

I reckon the reality of the moment sunk in, her son, with his dick stuffed in her butt, going in for a French kiss, and she recoiled, slunk away from me, and said, nervously, "It's, ummmmmm, time for yoga..." and hurried out of the room.

Of course I watched her ass, rippling like two bowls of jello, as she scurried off, blushing.

My dick was throbbing hard. I was thinking of chasing after her. Seeing if I could have wild sex with her on the kitchen table or in the hallway. I'd have given anything in that moment to feel the heat of her ass again on my hard dick, to drink in her scent once more.

But I decided to bide my time. No use in rushing. No use in pushing things. I'm a pervert, sure, but I'm into consensual fun, so I figured I'd go methodically, until the time was right. Since she already let me play with her ass some, I took it as a sign of more to come, and cum I would!

At that juncture, though, I was standing in the kitchen, with a severe case of the blue balls.

Something had to be done about that.

My mom's scent, her pheromones, were still floating in the air, mixed in with the scent of the coffee, and it was an aroma most glorious and inviting. And all I could think of was how much I wanted to yank down those yoga pants, penetrate my mom's sizzling hot pussy.

Vivid images ran wild in my mind, and I started pondering what her pussy looked like, if she shaved, if her outer pussy lips were puffy or thin... Truth is that no two pussies look alike. The one I popped out of was no exception.

My mom's pussy, how fucking warm it must be... How I longed to fuck into it, take her right there in the kitchen... My dick was getting so hard I thought it might burst like a stick of dynamite.

Usually, at times like these, when my mom's body is occupying my mind, I dart off into the bathroom or back to my bedroom, lock the door, pop open a bottle of moisturizer or break out the fleshlight and get to work, close my eyes, let my perversions run amok.

But, peering around the empty kitchen, it dawned on me that my mom and I were the only people here. My dad and sister were probably off fucking in their fancy hotel room, maybe in the hot tub, her bobbing up and down on his dick. Certainly no visitors would be stopping by, with the plague and all. So, fuck, why not, I figured, and I wrenched down my sweatpants and boxers and let my stiff cock fly free in the air.

I walked like a penguin, my pants pooled around my feet, and ripped out a paper towel and then grabbed a bottle of olive oil from the counter. I sniffed in again, letting the lingering ambient aroma tickle my senses. Screwing open the olive oil, I shook out a small pale green puddle of it into my right palm, clutched the wad of paper towels in my other hand.

Then I closed my eyes, let my greasy hole of a hand slip over my dick and pumped my cock to the thought of fucking my mother from behind, right there in the kitchen.

Often, when I jerk off, it lasts 5 to 10 minutes, sometimes more or less, but I was so worked up that that blissful feeling, that force of nature, that sudden hug of God struck me quick as lightning, and after only a couple minutes, maybe, I unleashed a toe-curling, massive blast of jizz into the wad of paper towel.

After coming, I felt a sense of relief, a burden lifted. However, when I shifted my weight, turned to chuck the cumrag into the trash can, I lifted my eyes to spot none other than my mother standing in the kitchen doorway's threshold, staring at me like she'd seen a UFO!

Her bulging eyes were firmly affixed to my dick, and it was still standing proud, with how worked-up I was...

Mom then smiled at me, possibly impressed by my size. No, I don't have a porn dick, but I do have a nice-sized, 6-incher, not too shabby in terms of girth, either, and I was still somewhat hard.

Now, I've read many incest stories online where the mother instantly rips off her clothes upon seeing her son jerking off and then has crazy porn sex with him. I was hoping that would be the case here, her turning, suddenly, into Ashley Fires, a sex-crazed MILF, and her jumping on me that minute, or forcing my face into her muff.

But that's not how it happened. Unfortunately. She blushed and muttered something about, "I forgot my drink," and shifted her gaze away from my dick, stepped quickly over to the coffeemaker to snag the espresso that she'd neglected to take to yoga.

Thinking it was going to be Round 2, I went to go at least try to kiss her, maybe more, but as I penguin-walked over, I stumbled and fell to the floor, landing, thankfully, on my side, and not on my member, which had begun to resuscitate its hardness, thanks to my mom's presence and the sheer force of her gorgeous blue eyes grazing over my cock...

It wasn't a hard fall, and I'm in decent shape, so I wasn't hurt. Given the ridiculousness of the moment, lying on the kitchen floor with my dick hanging out, in front of my mom, I couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Surprisingly, my mom joined in. Laughing with me or at me, maybe both, and the weirdness of the moment dissipated, to a degree. She'd probably have helped me up. However, seeing as that I wasn't hurt and that my dick was still hanging out, she stood firmly rooted next to the coffeemaker, giggling and cupping a palm over her mouth as she chuckled.

"What has gotten into you today?" my mom shouted, between heaving laughs.

I was thinking of coming clean at that point, but lying on the kitchen floor, half-naked, after just jerking off, maybe wasn't the best time to confess my intentions or feelings, not that they were much of a secret at this juncture.

Mom lifted her little coffee cup and turned to leave. Before she crossed into the hall she yelled out, "You reeeeealy need a girlfriend."

"I want YOU to be my girlfriend, mom," I shot back and heard her snicker as she bolted off.

No going back. Inadvertently, advertently, too, I had expressed my feelings. She knew how I felt. She'd let me dry-hump her ass and kiss her neck. Briefly, yes. But it happened. There was only one thing to do now. Plot my next move, keep pushing until I'm pushing my cock into my mom's sweet pussy.

Still naked, on the floor, I started to sit up, but then rested back down. I lay on the white tile floor and rested, gazed out the misty window. What the fuck, I supposed, I might as well rest for a little bit, gather my strength, I'll need it for later...

I didn't see my mom that afternoon. She did yoga, I guess, then ate lunch before me and spent the day in her bedroom. I wondered how much she was thinking of what happened before. If she was fingering herself or fucking herself with a dildo to the thought of fucking me. I wondered if she even owned a dildo.

I couldn't imagine she was getting much action from my dad, since he's never home and is constantly preoccupied with work. And my sister.

Recently, we'd been eating dinner together, but I wasn't sure if she'd show tonight, with what happened that morning, so I texted her to see if she wanted to join me. I got sort of sassy too with my text, asking her if she'd like to have a "date" tonight for dinner. I was still curious to see how far I could keep pushing things.

"Sure, C U at 8, in the kitchen, I'll make pasta," she texted back, with a smiley emoji, sticking out its tongue.

I texted back with a heart. Then texted her again, told her to wear yoga pants.

"Haha," she replied, with another tongue sticking out emoji. I had the urge to send another text, even flirtier, to see if I could sext with her. But again, I didn't feel the need to press her, scare her off. Slowly, slowly. Slow and steady wins the race.

I figured I'd see what she was wearing at dinner. If she was wearing yoga pants like I requested, we might be having sex tonight.

Watching the clock, waiting for 8 p.m. to arrive, felt like a million years. Time staggering in slow-motion. I started pacing around my room as if I were a fighter before a title match. I was splitting hairs until I remembered that I had a stack of work to do, so I buried myself in it for the rest of the day, did my damnedest to keep my mind off my mom's ass, what she might or might not be wearing that evening.

Then I showered, slipped into a freshly washed turquoise polo shirt and baggy black cotton sweats. When the clock finally struck 8, I practically ran from my bedroom to the kitchen. I was feeling like a kid rushing downstairs on Christmas morning. But instead of rushing in to see what gift Santa, or my parents, had bought me, my gift WAS one of my parents, my mom, and she'd hopefully be getting unwrapped soon!

Crossing through the threshold, into the kitchen, I was greeted by the most wonderful sight I could ever have seen. My mom. In her yoga pants. Another high-waisted black pair...

Oh yeah, this was getting good...

"Hey beautiful," I said, walking in, with a confident stride.

Mom chortled, "You are out of control today," she said, smiling curtly, and making eye contact with me for a mere millisecond, before nervously shifting her gaze and returning to laying out steaming plates of food on the table.

She'd obviously showered again, recently, too, as I could clearly smell the delicious aroma of her shampoo mixed in with the scent of caramelized onions, coming from the stovetop.

"Glad to see you wore those yoga pants. I think that's my favorite style, the high-waisted one. I love the way they accentuate your curves," I proclaimed, sauntering, in a straight path, right toward her.

Mom kept her gaze fixed to the stove, where she was ladling veggies from a pot, into a serving bowl.

I really was feeling no fear at all. Before there'd be no way I'd have done what I was about to do. But at that moment, there was simply no way that I wouldn't do it...

I approached my mom, from behind, and wrapped my arms around her stomach, pressed myself to her body, again, and again felt the ecstasy of her hot firm ass pressed to my crotch as I hugged her, pulled her into my arms. Then I hung my head on her shoulder, kissed the nape of her neck again. She giggled, looked at me, from the corner of her eye, and shyly shifted her head away from me.

"Not now," she whispered, wiggling away from me, smiling nervously.

"Later then," I replied, letting her slink away, but not before cupping and feeling up her ass, patting it lightly. My GOD how firm and shapely her ass was...

Mom didn't reply, only giggled, and didn't respond or stop me from touching her ass. Things were certainly moving in the direction I wanted.

I stepped over to the liquor cabinet, broke out a bottle of red wine, Château Lafite Rothschild, as well as a fresh bottle of Black Label whiskey.

Another awesome thing about Zoloft for me has been that it intensifies the effects of alcohol, and I was looking forward to catching a nice buzz, and hopefully loosening up any inhibitions my mom might have.

I poured a couple tall glasses of wine to start us off, and we sat down to the kitchen table. Given how much I'd been hitting on her, it was sort of hard to have a normal conversation, at least now, so I figured we should start by addressing the elephant in the room.

I wasted no time. "I really am happy to see you wearing those yoga pants. You've been looking especially hot in those recently."

The openness of the remark seemed to relax her, taking off some of the edge of this... unusual... situation.

"Recently? Really?" Mom replied, in a low voice, keeping her gaze on her plate as she stirred some green beans, speared a pair with her fork, and slowly bit into them. The image of a phallic object entering her mouth made me tingle and tense up in excitement.

"Really. You are hot. Like seriously hot... Beautiful..." I asserted, feeling like a 100-pound weight was being lifted off my back, as I confessed my inner-most, carnal, forbidden thoughts and desires.

Mom looked up, made eye contact with me, and spoke in a trembling voice, "At first, I thought you were joking or being nice. But now, I don't know what to think, or what to say. It's flattering, for sure. It's just that... It's been a while since any man has... And, of course, you are my..." Not being able to bring herself to say the word, she continued, "And, of course, you are a very handsome young man..."

An idea sprang into my head. A way to accelerate things.

"We're going to spend the next couple of weeks alone together. So let's have fun. Let's not be alone. Here we are, man and woman, alone in this big house. I propose a fake marriage."

Mom arched her eyebrows and giggled. "A fake marriage?"

"Yes, you, pretend to be my wife, and I pretend to be your husband. We're married for these couple weeks."

Mom giggled harder, twisted her pouty lips into the sexiest smile ever, and asked, in a breathy voice, "And what does this fake marriage entail? What do we do?"

Fuck, her voice like that... And her sly smile... She was such a fox!

Mesmerized by her beauty for a minute, I struggled to muster a response, then went on, "Anything, everything a normal married couple would..."

"Anything?" she asked, her brows lifting even further as she locked eyes with me.

"Anything and everything."

She giggled again, said in hushed tones, "I can't believe we're talking about this..." Then she shyly shifted her gaze down to her wineglass, which she was fidgeting with, slowly shaking in circular motions.

"When was the last time you were with someone?" I asked. Then I slugged down a healthy sip of wine, and the sweet potion surged through my veins, in a comforting, powerful rush.

"It was... a long time ago..."

"How long?"

She hesitated for a second, still not making eye contact, then only replied, "6..."

"6, um, weeks?"

She shook her head.

"6 months?"

She shook her head again.

"6... YEARS!?" My eyes bulged as I spoke. My word! It was unfathomable a woman like her, a woman this beautiful, not having sex in 6 years! My dad really must be banging my sister, and an IG model sidepiece or something too... Fuck...

Mom bit her lower lip, bobbed her head twice, craned her neck and sighed, staring ruefully at the clock on the wall. The symbolic irony wasn't lost on me.

"Was it, uh, with your husband?" I asked. I didn't want to call him my dad and increase the uneasiness of the moment any further.

Mom's eyes blazed and widened and she smiled and swung her gaze back to mine, answered emphatically, nearly screaming, "Yes! It was. I have never cheated!"

A goofy grin spread over my face, and I inquired, laughingly, "So... Do you masturbate?"

Mom just rolled her eyes. Glanced away. Didn't answer that one, only shook her head in negation, cupped a hand over her mouth and snickered for a second. Then she went silent, and my words hung uncomfortably in the air before diffusing like particles of dust.

I was worried I'd gone too far, gotten too personal. We both returned to our plates for a couple of minutes, finished off our portions. After another heavy drag of wine, more words just fell from my mouth, and I asked, "Do you have a dildo?"

Mom burst into uproarious laughter, caught off guard, obviously, by the direct nature of the question. After catching her breath, wiping a tiny tear from her right eye, she stared at the floor, her face going blank, and replied, "No. No, I do not..."

"So you masturbate?" I shot back, and my devil face returned, my smile curving like a Cheshire cat.

"Maybe... Sometimes..." she replied, her voice cracking, and her lips twisted into another naughty grin as she blushed and looked up and locked her eyes to mine for a second. Seeing that naughty grin, the starry twinkle flashing in her eyes, I suddenly felt as if a bolt of lightning had passed between us, and my heart skipped a beat.

Mom giggled again, then looked back down at her plate, polished off the last couple bites. Then she crossed her gorgeous legs, started bobbing one of her legs nervously.

I was speechless. Thinking of my red-hot mom, in her bed, fingering herself. Thinking how slick and warm her pussy must be... My cock started to stiffen...

Mom then lifted her eyes to mine, puncturing the silence, "I've been lonely for a while. And yes, I have thought of cheating. Actually, I'm thinking of it right now..."

"Really?" I asked, my ears perking up, my heart beating faster, and my cock now rock hard and throbbing upwards, fighting the fabric of my boxers.

"It's just... I don't have anyone to be with. I'm married, so I can't exactly 'date,' and I don't want to use the internet or Ashley Madison or Twitter or Tinder, Stumble or Bumble or whatever app. But maybe I'd be with someone I know. Someone I trust. Someone... intimate..."

I reached across the table to take her hand into mine. But she was still being coy and drew her hand away before I could touch it.

In a gentle, reassuring voice, I told her, "Look, I know someone you know. Someone intimate. Someone you can be intimate with..."

"Really?" she replied, still staring down at her plate, despite it being empty. "And who might that be?"

"Me." I told her. My tone changing to one of assertiveness.

Mom snickered again, then looked up, spoke in a slightly quivering, yet serious voice, "You can't tell anyone. I'm serious. No one."

"I promise. No one will ever know. It's our secret." I assured her.

Holy shit. It was happening. It was then that I knew...

We were going to have sex.

Mom flicked her gaze away, sat silent for a few seconds, and then looked back over at me, and nodded. "Okay," she said, "but, remember, we cannot tell anyone about this," her forehead furrowed, and she went on, spitting out words in measured bursts, "No one can ever know. God, I think it's even illegal..."

"Yes, it is illegal, I think, in most places," I shot back, emphatically, cracking another wicked grin. "That's part of what makes it so hot."

Mom's face flushed crimson. She shook her head playfully, giggled, and then stood up, walked over to the window, near the alcove, near the coffeemaker.

Moving to the same spot in the kitchen, she screwed down her yoga pants, glanced over her shoulder, and with passion playing over her face, she gave me a green light look, before shifting her gaze back to the window.

She wore no panties, either. Obviously, she'd known what was going to happen, and a feral silence wrapped itself around us.

Holy shit... I thought to myself, my breath quickening... Holy shit! It was on!

My mother was standing half-naked in front of me. Her glorious, heart-shaped ass bare, waiting for my touch.

My grin exploded into a devious smile that creased my forehead and the corners of my eyes. My heart thumped. And I felt bedewed in cold sweat, my skin glittering in the melted butter color patina of the room.