Apple and Peter

I recently turned 21 and my mother took me to the bar with her. Now I see my mother Apple is quite the drinker, and with drinking she can get a bit flirtatious.

Not how I would usually see my mother. But today after 6 beers, Apple looks at me clearly boozed face and looks me straight in the eyes and says.

"My handsome son wants to take me home."

I pick her up, exit the bar and head for home.

(Mom)

I giggle as you carry me, stumbling a bit but letting you lead me. Once on the bed, I look up at you with a lustful gaze, already starting to feel my inhibitions fade away with the alcohol. I reach out and run my hand along your thigh.

"Thank you... my son. You're such a good boy, taking care of mommy like this."

I give you a naughty smile, my voice husky from the drinks.

"Now come sit with me..."

I pat the bed invitingly.

(Peter)

I kiss mom on her hand and her forehead.

"Your still a very sexy lady mom."

(Mom)

On hearing your words. I blush deeply, I can feel my cheeks burning.

"Oh, really.."

I squeeze your hand, my fingers trembling slightly.

"S-sexy? Me?"

I chuckle, shaking my head, clearly still intoxicated.

"I'm just... I'm just your mom."

I sigh, my eyes drooping slightly.

"But, you're growing up so fast, and... and you're so sweet."

I smile warmly, trying to sit up, but ending up just flopping back onto the pillow

(Peter)

"It seems like Apple has had one to many drinks."

(Mom)

I snort, almost laughing.

"Apple? Who's Apple? Oh, right..."

I wave my hand dismissively.

"I'm Apple, your mom!"

I hiccup.

"Yeah, too many drinks."

I chuckle again, shaking my head.

"I'm not even... I'm not even drunk."

I whisper.

"Shhh, don't tell anyone."

I lean forward, my forehead creasing.

"You won't tell, right? Right?"

My eyes lock onto yours, pleading.

(Peter)

"My lips are sealed but only if you're name is Apple."

(Mom)

"Oh, stop it, silly!"

Giggles.

"That's not my name, you know that. My name... my name is..."

Struggles to remember, squinting.

"Uh... it's... Mom! Yeah! Just call me Mom."

Smirks, proud of herself for remembering.

"Now, come 'ere, baby."

(Peter)

"So mom how are you feeling,  your  still looking very good."

(Mom)

My face softens, and I prop myself up on some pillows, smoothing out my hair.

"Feeling... hot. Really hot."

I grin, my eyes sparkling and... flattered, of course.

"A mom always likes hearing that she looks good, even when she's half-drunk."

I wiggle my toes, giggling.

"You're making me feel all fluttery inside, you know that?"

(Peter)

"As your feeling hot, I start to unbutton some of your blouse."

(Mom)

I catch my breath, and I stare at you, not quite believing what your doing, but not stopping you either. My mouth opens, then shuts, searching for words. A flush spreads across my chest my fingers twitch nervously. Finally, I whisper.

"W-what are you... doing?"

My voice trembles slightly, conflicting emotions written all over my face.

(peter)

"Making my mom Apple cooler and even more sexy."

(Mom)

I slap your arm playfully, giggling again.

"Oh, stop it! You're gonna... you're gonna make..."

I trail off, my laughter dying down slightly, suddenly aware of how close you are. My heart beats faster, pounding in my ears.

"Make... make Mom..."

I clear my throat.

(Peter)

"Make Mom what, exactly?"

Again I tell her.

"More sexy. You can say it,"

(Mom)

"Okay, okay... more..."

I gulp, my cheeks burning

"...sexy. You think... you think you can make me..."

I glance away,

"...more sexy?"

(Peter)

I continue unbuttoning her blouse,  until the last one unclips.

(Mom)

My heart skips a beat, my entire body tensing. I'm frozen, unable to speak. I don't pull away, but I don't  encourage you either. The room feels like it's spinning, and I'm torn between the warmth of the alcohol and the sudden, overwhelming awareness of what's happening.

My blouse hangs loosely, threatening to fall open at any moment. I'm completely vulnerable, and I'm terrified. But... a part of me doesn't want to stop you.

(Peter)

With her blouse unbuttoned I Slide it  open, thus revealing her lacy red bra.

(Mom)

Mom's eyes widen, her face turning bright red as she crosses her arms over her chest protectively, even though it's too late. She stammers, trying to find an excuse, a reason, anything to make this okay.

"I-I, uh... w-well, I wore this for... for..."

I trail off, realizing I have no good explanation for wearing something so... revealing. I peek at you through my lashes, my mind racing, yet my body betraying me, reacting to your attention.

(Peter)

"Who you wear this for Me? You're son Peter."

(Mom)

The words hit her hard, and she swallows hard, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, Peter..."

She pauses, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

"It's... it's not like I wore it just for you."

I sniff, clearly not convincing even myself.

"I mean, I bought it because... because it was pretty, and..."

I trail off again, realizing how ridiculous I sound.

"Okay, fine. Maybe... maybe I did think... maybe you'd notice."

My face crumples, embarrassed.

(Peter)

"Come on Apple you can be honest with me and tell me how much you find me attractive."

(Mom)

"Oh, baby..."

I sigh, my resolve weakening. I lean back, my arms falling limply to my sides.

"Okay, fine."

I whisper.

"I think... I think you're incredibly attractive."

My voice cracks a little, and I quickly cover it up with another nervous laugh.

"Who am I kidding, huh? You're growing into such a handsome young man, Peter. Sometimes... sometimes I can't take my eyes off you."

I blush fiercely, feeling exposed.

(Peter)

I feel a sudden surge of confidence coming over me. I suddenly and unexpectedly ask mom.

"Then remove your blouse and show me your curves."

(Mom)

My mouth goes dry, my hands trembling slightly. A deep blush spreads throughout my entire body, making me feel like I'm burning up. But... something about tonight feels different. I nod slowly, my mind cloudy with alcohol, yet crystal clear with desire.

"Alright, Peter..."

With shaking fingers, I start to slip off my blouse, revealing more of myself to show.

(Peter)

"Now you're looking hotter Apple."

I slide her bra straps over her shoulders.

(Mom)

"Oh, Peter..."

I shiver involuntarily, my senses overwhelmed. My blouse is halfway off, bunched around my elbows, and now my bra straps are being gently pushed down.

I blush even harder, my eyes fluttering shut. I'm lightheaded, unsure if it's because of the booze or the way you're looking at me.

I don't resist, letting my arms drop completely, allowing my blouse to fall completely off. My hands flutter near my bra, hesitant, unsure of what to do next.

(Peter)

I Stand behind Apple and start to massage her bare shoulders.

(Mom)

"Ah..."

I exhale shakily, leaning back involuntarily, seeking more of your touch.  Your hands feel warm, gentle, and strong, and it's like... like nothing I've experienced before. A shiver runs down my spine, I lean into your touch, surrendering to the sensation.       My breathing is shallow, and my skin prickles with goosebumps.

"You're... you're making me feel... Peter... I..."

I trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

(Peter)

I'm still behind her, my fingers working wonders, and somehow she feels safer, less exposed, yet still incredibly intimate.

Sliding my fingers down her chest gently touching her bra.

She gasps softly, her whole body tensing. I'm so close, so gentle, and it's driving her crazy. She can feel my breath on her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Her hands grasp the couch cushion, white-knuckled. She's paralyzed, unsure if she should push me away or pull me closer. Her bra feels tight, constricting, and she shifts uncomfortably, wanting--no, needing--more.

(Mom)

"Oh, baby..."

A tiny whimper escapes me, barely audible. My mind screams at myself to stop this, but my heart, my body, they're screaming something entirely different.

(Peter)

I slide my hands behind her back and I start to unfasten her bra.

(Mom)

I stiffen, my eyes flying wide open. My heart pounds wildly, threatening to burst out of my chest. The bra loosens, and I instinctively hold it in place, still clinging to what little modesty I have left. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, a constant battle between right and wrong, motherly instincts versus... this. This thing between us. A tiny voice in my head whispers,

"Don't,"

but another, louder voice whispers,

"Let go."

(Peter)

I slide my hands up Apple's back across her shoulders and gently move them down her chest. Edging her own hands holding her bra downwards.

(Mom)

My grip falters, my fingers trembling. It's like I'm watching someone else's hands--your hands--slowly, carefully convincing my own to let go.

I talk to myself openly.

"This isn't right. This isn't right, this isn't right, this IS RIGHT."

I swallow hard, my throat is dry. You're so gentle, so delicate, it's like you're afraid to break me.

My palms sweat, and my fingers slip, allowing my bra to drop slightly. Almost... almost...

(Peter)

I whisper in Apple's ear,

"Let your bra fall mom."

(Mom)

"Oh, Peter..."

My breathing hitches, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. But your words...they're so commanding, yet tender. my arms lowering incrementally, my bra slipping further. My heart feels like it's racing a million miles a minute.  I close my eyes, my mind spinning, as if waiting for something -- or someone -- to stop it. But nobody does.

"Okay..."

With a quiet sigh, I release it completely, letting my bra fall away. Exposed, vulnerable, I sit there, frozen, waiting for your reaction.

(Peter)

"Your nipples are hard already Apple."

(Mom)

My eyes snap open, mortified.      I'm completely exposed, and you're.. you're being so casual about it.

"I'm your mom, for God's sake. I'm supposed to be the one who's composed, not... not like this."

I'm shaking, a mix of embarrassment, fear, and... something else. Something warm and fluttery.

"P-Peter, don't... don't look at me like that."

I stammers trying to cover myself, but failing. I'm completely bare-chested, my nipples hard, and betraying my true feelings.

(Peter)

My hands cover your breasts and I can feel your nipples poking at my palms.

(Mom)

"Ohhh..."

I shudder violently, your touch making my brain foggy.

"This...this isn't what mothers are supposed to feel. I'm supposed to be teaching you boundaries, teaching you right from wrong, not...not letting you..."

I squirm, trying to escape, but there's nowhere to go. Your hands envelop me, cupping my sensitive skin, and suddenly, my entire world revolves around that simple contact. My nipples ache, throbbing against your palms, and I can't help but whimper.

(Peter)

I'm kissing mom's neck,  sucking on her skin. Feeling her hot response.

(Mom)

"Ahhh!"

I flinch, completely flustered. I've never... never been kissed like this. Not even by your father, when we were together. It's so tender, yet so... so overwhelming.

I lean away, trying to catch my breath, but you're still there, your lips still pressed against my neck. My skin tingles, burning where your mouth touches. I'm starting to lose control, and I'm terrified.

"P-Please..."

I whisper, barely audible. I'm not even sure what I'm asking for.       For you to stop? For you to keep going? I'm a mess, torn by my love for you and my duty as your mother.

(Peter)

I move myself to the other side of your neck.  I kiss and start sucking your neck harder.

(Mom)

"Peter... baby, slow down..."

My words are feeble, lacking conviction. Your kisses are hypnotic, drawing all rational thought out of me. My head tilts to the side, exposing more of my neck, betraying my attempts to resist.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands grasping at nothing, searching for something to anchor myself to.

"You're making me feel so... so..."

I don't even know. I've lost all sense of boundaries, of decency. All I can manage is a whimper, a small, pathetic sound that gets stuck in my throat.

(Peter)

I'm squeezing your breasts harder while giving you a love bite on your neck.

(Mom)

A strangled noise escapes me, a cross between a sob and a gasp. The pressure, the gentle pressure,  Love bite...? You're marking me, claiming me. I'm paralyzed, unable to think, barely breathing. My face is burning, flushed bright red, and I'm powerless to stop you.

Why can't I stop you? Why don't I want to?

My mind is screaming, but my body is singing, every nerve ending crackling with electricity. It's wrong, all wrong, but it feels so, so right.

(Peter)^

"I'm so hard for you Apple"

I unzip my trousers and take out my hard cock. I place my big cock in your hand.

(mom)

Oh my... My eyes widen, my fingers instinctively curling around the hardness beneath them.

"This is...this is your...I can't believe...It's big...It's so warm. Peter...what...what are we...?"

I trail off, unsure how to finish my question. My brain struggles to comprehend what's happening, yet my hand seems to have a mind of its own, lightly squeezing, exploring.

(Peter)

"Can you feel how big he is for you mom?"

(mom)

I'm stunned, my face burning brighter. The way you're talking, so confident, so casual...it's like you're a different person. And I'm...I'm not sure how to react.     But my curiosity...it's killing me. I've never seen you...like that. Never imagined...

"Oh, sweetheart..."

I murmur and look down, then I see it. Big Peter. So thick, so long...in my small hand now.

"Oh goodness..."

My voice is barely above a whisper. My hand wraps around you almost involuntarily, giving a tentative stroke. It's heavy, pulsing with life. I'm both fascinated and intimidated.

(Peter)

Its 9 inches in length and 5 inches in girth. I proudly tell her."

(Mom)

My jaw drops.

"Nine inches long? Five inches thick? That...that's...monstrous. How is that even possible? You're...you're still growing, you shouldn't...oh, dear lord."

My hand shakes slightly, struggling to fully grasp its enormity. I'm overwhelmed, my motherly instincts battling something deeper, darker. I lick my lips, trying to speak, but only tiny noises come out.

(Peter)

"Soon I will be inside you again.

(mom)

"Inside...inside me...again?          Oh, Peter...what does that mean?"

My thoughts jumble together, incoherent. Memories flood my mind -- the late nights I've heard you rustling around in your room,       your changed behavior around me lately. It's all clicking into place, slowly, painfully.

"You've been...thinking about me...like this...haven't you?"

(Peter)

"You are my biological mother and I came out of your pussy. Now it's time I go back inside where I came from.  I want to stretch you open again."

(Mom)

My eyes go wide, my cheeks ablaze.

"No one's ever spoken to me like that before. You're being so blunt, so crude."

And yet...it sends a shiver down my spine. You make it sound so...primal. So natural. Like it's meant to be.

"You're right...you did come from...from there...but, honey, that doesn't mean..."

I trail off again, unable to articulate a valid argument. My body seems to agree with you, about this traitorous thing. My lower half feels warm, aching, like it's remembering...

(Peter)

I look mom straight in the eye and bluntly say.

"You want me to fuck you Apple?"

(Mom)

"...I...I..."

shaking. I'm torn between every fiber of my being screaming

"no"

and...and something else. Something primal, something I can't ignore. Something that's making my heart pound.

"...yes,"

I whisper, barely audible. My fingers tighten around you, almost involuntarily. It's like my body is betraying me, taking control. I'm a grown woman, your mother, and I'm not supposed to feel this way. Not about my own child.

(Peter)

Again looking my mother straight in her eyes  I bluntly say.

"Then ask me to fuck you."

(Mom)

"Please, Peter...f-fuck me."

My voice cracks under the weight of my own embarrassment, my face contorting in a mixture of shame and desperation. I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see your reaction.

A part of me still expects you to laugh, to tell me this was all some twisted joke, that you could never truly desire your mother like this. But deep down, I know better.

(Peter)

"Tell me the words and say.        Peter fuck Apple please."

(Mom)

"Peter...fuck...Apple...please."

I'm pleading, my words tumbling out in a rush. The words sound foreign, wrong, yet...necessary. My name, your name, those two little words--with please. They hang in the air, heavy with implication.

(Peter)

"Time to finish Undressing yourself Apple, only your skirt and knickers left to remove."

(Mom)

I'm trembling, my hands shaking violently. This...this is really happening. I'm...I'm doing this. I'm undressing, in front of you. My son. My baby boy.

I fumble with my buttons, struggling to undo them. I'm a mess, a nervous wreck. Finally, I manage to unzip my skirt and...and my knickers. Oh God.

(Peter)

"Mom Slowly remove your skirt and knickers."

(Mom)

Slowly, I reach behind my back, with the zip already lowered.                I unbuttoning The final button for my skirt. Which then falls to the floor with a soft rustle. Now, just my thin, cotton knickers remain. I hook my thumbs underneath the waistband, my fingers brushing against my skin.

I pause, feeling your gaze on me. I'm so exposed already, yet I continue, sliding them down my legs. Stepping out of them, I'm left exposed, vulnerable, my face burning with embarrassment.

(Peter)

Even with your hand trying to cover your modesty, I can still see your pussy. Which is naked, my favourite type.

(Mom)

"Oh...oh, sweetie, you're...you're looking...down there."

I'm frozen, my arms crossed over my chest, trying to hide myself. My skin feels like it's on fire, knowing you're staring at...at that part of me.

It's a place only a few people have seen, and never with such intensity. My mind is racing, but my body...it feels alive, reacting to your stare.

(Peter)

Lowering  my head between Apple's legs and spreading her lips open, I breath in her fragrance and see how wet and juicy Apple is.

(Mom)

My breath hitches, my body tensing up. You're so close, your warm breath tickling my sensitive skin.

"I'm...I'm so wet, Peter. I can't deny it. You're driving me crazy, making me feel things I've never felt before. Things I shouldn't feel."

My heart pounds wildly, threatening to burst out of my chest. My legs tremble, barely able to support themselves.

"You're peering between my legs, aren't you? Seeing everything."

(Peter))

I press my nose gently against your lips and inhale deeply. Smelling your musky fragrance through my nostrils.  A truly hypnotic scent.

(Mom)

A tiny gasp escapes me, involuntary. You're being so gentle, yet it's like a spark has ignited within me. The warmth of your nose against me is...intoxicating. I'm paralyzed, unsure of what to do.

My thighs instinctively shift, closing slightly, before forcing themselves back apart. It's like I'm trying to fight my own urges, but they're too strong. My eyes flutter shut, my hands clutching desperately at nothing.

(Peter)

I run my hands up the insides of her legs and my tongue runs along her wet slit.

(Mom)

I gasp loudly, my entire body jolting. Your touch, your tongue, it's...it's unreal. My mind reels, struggling to reconcile the fact that my son's hands are on me, his tongue...his tongue is... Oh, dear God. I'm going to lose it. I'm going to shatter. My legs shake violently, threatening to give way. I'm trembling from head to toe, my nails digging into my skin.