Mom, You'll Beg for My Cock

Author's Notes: My first "Mom/Son" story. There's one scene with some mild bondage that some may consider rape. I'm never in favor of violence to women and I don't believe I crossed that line. The "rape" scene is told from the woman's perspective and it's obvious she doesn't believe she was raped other than making a point to her son. However, if you're sensitive to these topics, proceed with caution.

As with all my stories, this is a work of fantasy. The characters are all 18 years of age and older and from my imagination. Please take the time to comment and rate. I love the feedback. It always helps me do better on the next one. Thank you.

I prefer writing in the first person and switching between characters. This story follows that format with Mom and Chance.

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"OH, MY GOD! STOP TEASING ME! PUT IT IN! PLEASE, PUT IT IN!" I was nearly crying.

"Put what in?" he whispered calmly in my ear. "The vibrator? The dildo?"

"Please, don't make me," I begged, wanting his cock so badly. "Are you gonna make me say it?"

"You have a choice," he whispered.

"GOD DAMN YOU," I yelled. "PLEASE PUT IT IN ME!"

He pulled his head up and looked me in the eyes. 'FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE,' I screamed in my mind. I knew he wasn't going to give in. I needed his cock in my pussy. My body was aching for his cock. I could no longer deny it.

"Chance, honey," I said, trying to channel any dignity I had remaining into what I was about to say, "God, baby, please, son, I want your cock in my cunt. Please, son, fuck me. Fuck your mother. Push that hard cock into my hungry pussy and fuck me. PLEASE!"

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How had I come to this moment? Rewind time a week or so.

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"Hey mom," he said with a joyful wisp. "What's up?" He was just coming home from a long day of school and work, passing through the kitchen on his way to his room.

"Hi, baby boy," I replied, trying to match his happy mood. I pulled a few more plates from the dishwasher to put away. "How was your day?"

"Peachy, as usual," he says. He was nearly out of the kitchen when I asked. It's a daily ritual. He comes home, bounds through the door, asks me what's up, and answers my question as he takes the stairs up to his room in four steps. So much energy in this boy.

Today he stopped. He turned around and walked over to me. My back was toward him as he lightly took my shoulders in his hands and turned me to face him.

"What's wrong, mom?" he said, staring into my eyes, probing me.

Those eyes. Just like his father. Such love, tenderness, and care in a single look. I melted.

I was fourteen when Glen knocked me up. I wasn't even fifteen when Chance was born. Glen, the good man he was, did the right thing and married me shortly after we found out I was pregnant. He was with me every day until a tragic car accident three years ago. Today. Drunk driver.

For being such a young man, Glen took the role of father seriously and became a great daddy to Chance and his little sister, Gayle. He was also a great provider. In the months leading up to his death, he took out a life insurance policy that will provide for his family for the rest of our lives. We're not living high, but we will never want for our needs.

Looking back into my son's eyes, I couldn't help but see my husband looking back at me. It was more than I could bear. I started crying.

Suddenly, I was immersed in the arms of my son. He engulfed me and I was transported through time; back in the arms of my husband. I melted into his body. I put my arms around him and held him tight. My head on his shoulder as I sobbed.

"What's wrong, mom?" he asked as his strong hands rubbed my back.

I couldn't answer. How could he forget? Who am I to ask? I nearly missed it. It was an accident that I saw a calendar and noticed the date. Time truly does heal wounds. Time doesn't erase the scars.

"Mom?"

I didn't want to answer. He didn't need to be feeling the loss of the father he adored. I'd be happy for him to remain blissfully ignorant of this day.

"Oh, shit," he sighed. My heart fell. "God, mom, I don't know how I forgot. I'm so sorry."

I don't know how it was possible, but he pulled me tighter against his body. I pulled him tighter as well. "Oh, Chance, I don't want you to be sad," I managed to mutter between sobs.

"I'm not sad, mom. Other than for you."

My heart filled with love. "My sweet boy. You're my rock, you know." I hugged him tighter. My sadness waning, I pulled away to look my son in the eyes. "I love you, my sweet boy."

His resolve didn't waver. "I love you, mom. I want you to be happy. I know this is a hard day for you. Maybe I can take you to dinner tonight. How does that sound?"

I don't know why but I blushed and looked away. "Oh, Chance, that's not necessary," I said feeling awkward.

"Who said anything about necessary?" he said softly looking into my soul. "You deserve to be pampered today. Let me pamper you."

My heart overflowed. What a great son. Just like his dad. I also felt a familiarity that I hadn't felt since Glen passed. I felt it strong. I blushed again. I was embarrassed by my thoughts. This is my son.

"Deal," I said with a smile. "You're so much like your dad. He taught you well. You're gonna make a girl very happy someday."

"Someday? I'm gonna make this girl happy tonight," he said. He leaned in and kissed the end of my nose.

Alarm bells rang in my head. I physically felt my pussy tingle and get wet. I blushed again and looked away from him.

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I came home as usual, almost ran through the kitchen on my way upstairs to my room but stopped when I heard mom ask me about my day. Normally I'd have kept going and shouted my usual response as I leaped up the stairs. This time, her tone was different. There was no energy or life. She sounded sad.

I stopped and turned to look at her. Her body language said the same. She wasn't the same. Something was definitely out of place. Her posture was droopy as she leaned down to empty the dishwasher. She moved slowly.

I walked over to her, placed my hands on her shoulders, and turned her to face me. She started to cry. Hard. Sobbing. I took her in my arms to comfort her. When I asked her why she was sad, she tried to shrug it off. She didn't want me to be sad. Suddenly, my mind flooded with memories of the day.

'How could I be so thoughtless and forget?' I thought to myself.

I offered to take her to dinner and treat her special. I think I said she needed to be "pampered". I don't know why but, I leaned in and kissed the end of her nose.

What happened next, I don't know. When I pulled away, mom was flushed. I felt her body tremble. I saw the look in her eyes. She looked away quickly. I gave her another light hug then backed away. I stammered something about being ready around seven and we'd go out. I made a quick exit.

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Chance saw my reaction. He quickly left to go to his room. I stood in the kitchen dumbfounded. Did I just have sexual arousal from my son? My husband's image faded and there was Chance. My mind wandered as I pictured our "date". We were in a ballroom, dancing, twirling, like two young people in love. He was dashing, charming, and debonair. He was the perfect gentleman.

The image faded and suddenly, we were naked with him on top of me, tenderly and passionately kissing me, making love to me. I felt so special, so loved. I shivered with excitement.

I snapped to reality and pulled my hand out of my pants. 'Was I just masturbating in my kitchen while thinking about my son?' The thought shocked me and sent ripples of pleasure through my body. I raised my hand and took a sniff of my fingers. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" I gasped out loud.

I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind, but I couldn't focus on anything else. 'Fuck the dishes,' I thought as I headed for my room and my Magic Wand. I needed to rub this out.

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'Did what happened really happen?' I wondered. 'Was mom really aroused by my little peck on her nose?' I was in shock. "She's my mom," I said out loud. "What the fuck am I even thinking?" I reached down to adjust my cock. It was suddenly uncomfortable. When I tried to move it, I realized I was hard.

I replayed the scene in my mind. Over and over. I saw the look. I felt the reaction. My mom had a sexual reaction to my innocent kiss on her nose.

Now I was aroused. I had never thought of mom in any way other than my mom. Dad taught me to always love and respect the women in my life, including my annoying little sister. I had always tried to live up to dad's standards, which was easy with mom. Gayle is a different ballgame. I don't treat her in a mean way but let's just say I don't always treat her with love.

I started seeing mom in a new way. I realized how gorgeous she is. I marveled at how I'd never really noticed her physical beauty. Maybe it would be a bit creepy if I had noticed before now. I also realized how beautiful she is on the inside. She has always been gentle, kind, and patient. I don't remember her ever speaking in a harsh tone. With me, Gayle, or anyone. I realized how lucky dad was to have her. She is a prize.

I got on my bed, pulled my cock out, and started letting the fantasies flow. I stroked myself as I thought of kissing mom, undressing her, worshipping her. I laid her gently on her bed, spread her legs, and feasted on her womanhood. She writhed and moaned beneath me, grabbing my head and pulling my head in harder against her sex. She screamed in pleasure as I made her cum.

She then started sucking my cock. She was slow, methodical, thorough. She licked my balls, stroked me with her hands, took me deep in her throat. She then moved on top of me and slowly sat on my erection.

I couldn't take anymore. I erupted and sent my jizz flying. Holy shit did It fly. I don't remember a more powerful orgasm. I had cum on my face and in my hair. I milked myself and daydreamed of cuddling naked with mom. I drifted off to sleep.

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My fantasies were in high gear. My Magic Wand did the trick and helped me calm my wandering mind. I looked at the clock. 'Damn, it's six-thirty. I've got to get ready,' I thought to myself. 'Is he still gonna wanna take me to dinner?'

I picked up my phone. I didn't really want to see him for this.

[Mom] Are we still on for sevenish?

I stared at the screen for a moment. 'Do I dare send this? Would I give away how he made me feel?'

"God, you're being stupid. Send the fuckin text, dummy," I said aloud. I hit send.

Now, I wait.

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My phone buzzed. I picked it up. 'Why is mom sending this? I thought I was clear. SHIT! She knows why I came up here. Oh, fuck me.' Thoughts raced through my mind. How do I answer this?

I hit reply and typed, "Yes." No. I deleted and typed, "Do you still want to go?" OH, HELL NO. I deleted. A thousand other replies flooded my mind. I didn't waste my time typing them out. I just dismissed each one as soon as they entered my mind. I shook my head.

[Chance] Yeah. Whatever.

I hit send. I immediately regretted it. "Dumbass," I called myself.

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Five minutes of torture. Finally.

"YEAH? WHATEVER?" I laughed and mocked. "Dipshit," I called him. My mind was at ease. What else would a nineteen-year-old boy say?

[Mom] Okay. I'll be ready soon.

I put the phone down and began readying myself. A light coat of make-up, a touch-up of the curls in my hair, and a little perfume. 'Now comes the hard part,' I thought. 'What do I wear?'

I rummaged through my closet looking for something nice but mindful of sending the wrong signal. After what happened earlier, I didn't want to shoot any unnecessary pheromones in my son's direction.

I saw it. I passed over it. Nothing else seemed right. I started again, this time slower and going in the opposite direction. There it is again. I tried to ignore it again. Nothing. Nothing is right. I went back to the dress that stood out among the others. I pulled it off the rack and studied it. I walked to the mirror and held it up to me.

It was a beautiful dress. Bright, spring flowers of yellow with blue and green trim. I'd never worn it before. The neckline plunged a bit more than I thought necessary and it was a bit up above my knees. I pulled it over my head, straightened it out, patted out the wrinkles, and modeled in the mirror.

'God, I love this dress,' I thought. 'It makes me feel pretty.' That was all the encouragement I needed. I finished getting ready and wandered out of my room and down the stairs.

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"Mom? WOW! You look AMAZING!" I said when mom came into the living room. The dress was perfect. She did look beautiful.

"You look quite dashing yourself, young man," she smiled back at me. "All the girls are gonna be jealous of me and stare at you." She winked at me.

"You say that to all the guys," I shot back.

She turned coy. "Maybe I do. Just like you telling me I look amazing?"

"No, ma'am," I said shaking my head. "You look ... wow."

"And you, young man, look handsome and dashing." She smiled. "Shall we," she said as she walked toward me. I put my arm out and she took hold as we headed to the door. "So, where is my dashing, handsome date taking me tonight?" she asked as we approached the car.

I walked her around the passenger side and opened the door. Dad taught me well. "Well, I thought we'd go try that place you've always talked about but will never go to. What's it called? Wild Mushroom?"

"That's a sweet suggestion, honey, but it's too expensive," she replied.

I helped her in the car and jumped in behind the wheel. "Well, you should have grabbed the keys then. I'm driving, and that's where we're going." She cocked her head and gave me that disapproving look. "Don't even," I said. "I want tonight to be special for you."

"Honey, you're so sweet, but really. It's a long drive and it's too expensive," she argued.

I put my serious face on. "Mom. Stop. My treat. My choice. It's not too far. We'll have plenty of time to talk and enjoy each other's company. We don't get that enough."

She relented. She patted my hand that was resting on the gear shifter between the seats. Her hand remained on mine after she finished patting it. "Thank you, Chance," she said and choked up a little. "This means a lot to me."

I felt the stir with mom's hand resting on mine. "My pleasure, mom. Relax and have a fun evening."

She smiled then turned and watched the houses and landscapes as we drove out of the small town onto the highway. She started rubbing my hand.

"Mom, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," she smirked. I gave her my disappointed look. "Ha! Gotcha. Again," she laughed. "Of course, you can ask. Anything."

"It's a little personal," I said.

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Alarms went off in my head again. 'Oh shit,' I thought. 'What's he going to ask me? Should I move my hand? No, that would be obvious.'

I swallowed hard. "That's okay, honey. Go ahead." 'DID I JUST TELL HIM TO ASK ME A PERSONAL QUESTION?'

"What was it about dad that made you want to marry him?"

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I exhaled. 'Seriously?' I thought. 'This is your "personal" question?

A flood of happy memories washed through me. I was suddenly happy and smiling. Chance noticed and smiled back at me.

"Well, I, um, wow, I wasn't ready for that question," I stumbled. "Your father was wonderful in many, many ways. Even as a teenage boy, he always treated me with respect and protected me. Nobody said anything about me without hearing from him. He was a gentleman in nearly every aspect of our relationship."

"Nearly," he asked.

"Ah, you picked up on that," I smiled. "Clever boy. Yes, nearly. For me, he was always a gentleman. He defined himself as 'nearly'. He never forgave himself for the night we created you."

"What? The night you created me? What was so wrong with creating me?" he asked somewhat annoyed.

I caught my faux pas and quickly tried to correct it. "No, not you," I said patting his hand. "We never once had any reason to regret having you. He was raised, as you were, to be pure for his spouse on his wedding day. We put ourselves in a position to make temptation easy to give in to. He always felt like he betrayed my honor. God, I loved him for that. I love how he taught you to be the perfect gentleman as well."

He nodded. "Well, mom, I'm happy to report that I'm still pure. I'm committed to remaining that way until I'm with my soulmate."

I squeezed his hand. "You're going to be a great husband and father, honey. Your daddy taught you well. He'd be so proud of you today."

"Thanks, mom," he blushed. "I miss him. Every day."

"I do too, sweetie," I said softly. My mind raced back to earlier when I was sobbing on my son's shoulder. "I'm sorry about earlier. I try so hard not to pass my sadness on to you and your sister on days like today. I'd much prefer that you and Gayle can forget these days when your dad's absence hurts even more."

"It's okay, mom," he said. "My sad days are mostly over. I don't have any bad memories of dad. I miss him when I need a man's advice, or help working on one of my woodworking projects. But other than that, whenever I think of him, it's happy thoughts that make me smile."

My heart was full hearing this from him. "That makes me happier than I can put into words," I replied.

Silence fell upon us for a few miles. I sat, still resting my hand on his, and watched the beautiful scenery go by. This time of year is magnificent. I've always loved autumn in the Rockies. The colors are bright, with contrasting yellow, orange, and red leaves, deep evergreens, blue sky, and fluffy, billowing clouds.

Chance broke the silence. "Tell me your favorite thing about dad."

Alarms again fired in my head. He looked over at me with a look of shock. I realized I had reacted physically to his question, including a little startle reflex that he felt through my hand.

"I'm sorry, mom," he said. "Was that too personal?"

How could I answer? "No, honey. It wasn't," I said. "It's just ... it's just ... God, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? Why would your answer make me ..." he stopped. "Oh, okay. I get it ... I think."

More sirens. 'Does he really get it?' I wondered. I decided he needed to know the truth about earlier.

"Chance, this could, yes, make you feel a bit ... weird about me," I said, trying to find the right words. "Earlier today, when you kissed my nose, I reacted ... um ... weirdly."

He tried to cut me off. "No, no, no, mom," he said. "I didn't ..."

I cut him off. "Let me finish, Chance," I said. "One thing about your dad, that nobody knows except me, was, oh God." I can't be delicate, but I need to tell him, so he understands I'm not some pervy mom. "Your dad, after we made love, every time, would kiss me, tell me he loved me, then give me a peck on the end of my nose. It's the one thing I never thought too much about while he was with us, but since he's been gone, I miss that little peck more than anything else. After he was gone, I realized that little peck on the nose meant that he'd always be mine. He'd always be my man. I think that was my favorite thing about him."

I looked over at him to see his reaction. He was trying hard not to react.