Note to readers: Please read Chapter 1, it will hopefully allow much of this to make sense. Thanks for all the kind words and support and I hope you enjoy.
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I awoke naked and alone in my mother's bed to a morning well advanced. The room was warm and sunlit and smelt of sex. My eyes were drawn to a pair of pink and black satin panties discarded on the mattress and upon reaching for them I was alerted to the aches in my muscles from the sex the previous day. Such a satisfying burn. One I hadn't felt in years.
I brought my mother's underwear to my face and inhaled. Barely a scent. She hadn't worn them for long. We'd spent much of the evening playing dress-ups. She had been so keen to try on all the new lingerie and clothing I'd purchased for her and I of course was more than eager to watch.
I'd sat on the bed and complimented her, directed her in poses and chose which items to model next. I had front row tickets to my own personal runway fashion show, with (in my opinion) the world's hottest model right there in my mother's bedroom. When I sheepishly asked if I could masturbate whilst she tried on the items she told me she'd be honored, saying "An erection is the sincerest form of flattery Daniel!"
When finally it came to her wearing a black fishnet body-stocking and I noticed how slick her upper thighs had become with her wetness, I knew she had to release as well. My mother climbed onto the bed and sat down one end facing me, legs akimbo. I took up the same position at the head of the bed and continued stroking my seriously hard cock. In turn, she began massaging her dripping crotch. Rubbing her clitoris in a circular motion with three fingers and clutching her left breast with the other hand, pinching on her nipple.
Her eyes would alternate between staring deep into mine, then fixating on my hand, pumping on my ever-stiff penis. So there we were, mother and son masturbating in front of each other. Deriving the greatest of pleasure from observing the others most intimate actions. My mother's stocking covered toes dug into the tops of my feet as she expertly, frantically, fingered herself. Her pace quickened and I matched it, almost as if we were racing to see who could cum first.
And then it happened. Something I'd only seen in porn and which I'd always harbored doubts to it's authenticity. My mother squirted. If I'd known it was going to occur I would've been closer to the action. To have her do it on my cock or even on my face, would have been the crowning glory of my life to that point. I'd seen her cum before, hell she'd even done it on my face but this was something else entirely. Jets of fluid splashed from between her fapping fingers and soaked the sheets between us. The moment sent me over the edge and holding my breath to intensify the orgasm I came as well, shooting copious hot cum across my stomach and chest.
This was mere hours ago, we'd showered and fucked and slept glued together all night. Now she was gone and I longed to see and touch her again. I could hear action in the kitchen and rising with aches and pains (was I getting old?) I made my way down the hall, stopping off at my room to collect a pair of satin boxers. When I reached the kitchen and laid eyes on my mother I shouldn't have bothered, I wouldn't be wearing them for long.
She was dressed (if that's what you'd call it) in a tight, red lace teddy and heels. Crotch-less, it was contoured much like a one-piece swimming costume, save for gaping holes revealing my mother's bottom and bald pussy. She spied me admiring her and smiled broadly. "Oh, you're up," then seeing the erection rapidly growing in my shorts. "In more ways than one! I see."
"Fuck. Mom."
"Daniel, language." She then looked down at herself and ran a hand across the material just under her breasts, where her nipples protruded through slits in the cups. "Does it look alright? I don't usually wear heels when I'm making breakfast. I don't look silly do I? I can change."
To silence her needless doubt I went to her and took her in my arms. My cock, now proudly erect, pressed against her stomach as I caressed her back. I kissed her on the cheek then whispered in her ear that I thought she looked amazing and I loved her. We kissed there in the kitchen the way a mother and son so rarely do, yet had become so natural to us.
"I wanted to give you breakfast in bed but I suppose we can do it here." She stated and the words "do it" came loaded with double meaning. I sat down at the table and my mother came over with a plate of toast, spread with a variety of toppings. Instead of taking another chair, she stepped over my lap facing me. I took hold of her waist and lowered her down onto my waiting cock and we were one.
I didn't thrust and she didn't grind. We just sat there as if it was the normal way to sit at a table. "Now, what would you like first baby? What about honey?" She picked up a slice of toast and made to lift it to my awaiting mouth then stopped. "Hmm, maybe you'd like a little sample first." I watched mesmerized as she took her index finger and ran it across the top of the slice, scooping up a large amount of the golden honey. She then leaned slightly back and coated each of her nipples with the sweet substance.
"Oh yes Mom. Honey's just fine by me." I replied. I held her buttocks with both hands and lowered my mouth down onto her nipple, first licking the majority of the stickiness from her then sucking each in turn to remove all trace. All the while she was squeezing her pelvic floor around my cock, slowly milking me inside her
"Now some strawberry jam? That's your favorite isn't it darling?" Again she coated her nipples and I again devoured all she served up. This time though she began to slowly move her hips back and forth on my lap. At this rate breakfast could have gone on all day (and I would've been happy with that) but Mom had to get to work and I needed to cum. We fucked as we ate and I eventually came inside her just as we finished the plate.
Mom showered as I cleaned up around the house. I was watering the garden when she emerged, dressed in her familiar uniform which I'd become quite attached to. We embraced on the lawn. "I wish I didn't have to go in today," she stated.
"Don't," I replied. "You don't have to work Mom, I've got enough money to support us."
"But I like working honey, it gives me something to do. Which reminds me, there's also something else I have to do." Her expression changed and a noticeably troubled look came upon her face. "Daniel. When I get home, we need to talk."
When you're in a relationship with someone, the four words you least like to hear are surely, "we need to talk." My mind began racing with thoughts as to what she meant. Did she want to call it off between us? Surely not, the way she'd acted this morning. "What is it Mom, just tell me now," I quickly replied, concerned.
