Author's Note: Welcome to my latest story. I get asked a lot if my work turns me on and the answer is usually not too much, probably because since I created it, I know where it's going and how it starts and ends so it takes some of the thrill from it. However, for what it's worth there is something about this particular story that 'got my attention' not sure if it's just the concept or how lust crazed I made the mom and her friend, but I guess I can say it's one of my personal favs. Hopefully you will like it too. LC68
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I stared out the window, looking down at my son Jon and wondered what it would be like to fuck him. He was lying on the lounge chair and as my eyes trailed across his chest and hard flat stomach my lust filled mind envisioned my tongue following that trail. Kissing and licking his nipples before sliding down his stomach to the edge of his shorts. My hand would be on his cock and he would be so hard for me!
Hard for his mother who would unzip his shorts, the kiss and lick his hard young cock. Jon would moan 'Mom' in a way most mothers would think a son never should, but it would cause this mother's pussy to flow as I took that hard cock between my lips.
Jon's large, strong hands would be on my shoulders and back, rubbing my soft skin before sliding around between us to cup my breasts, teasing my aching nipples as I took my son's full length down into my eager mouth.
Jon's would grab my long, brown hair and pull it to the side so he could watch as I bobbed my head, slowly and lovingly giving him the taboo thrill of receiving a hot blow job from his horny mother.
In my fevered mind Jon wouldn't last long. He was so excited to see his mother between his legs he would cum quickly. A pull on my hair, a loud "Oh, mom!" and he would erupt in my mouth.
My hands strayed below my short black robe and I moaned as I ran them up my inner thighs; my mind lingering on the image of my son cumming in my mouth. I gasped at how wet I was when my fingers slipped through my bare pussy. I thought about how his thick hot cum would feel flowing across my tongue and down my throat and could all but taste it.
I found my swollen clit and rubbed slow, teasing circles around it while in my mind Jon had switched places with me. It was now me laying back on the chair, my legs open, draped over his broad shoulders and my soft feet on his back as he spread his mother's pussy and buried his tongue in it.
I would be playing with my nipples and moaning his name as a lover rather than a son, but no lover would ever want to please me like my son would.
"Damn you Cynthia" I whispered, even as my fingers continued to caress my swollen button while fantasizing about my son bringing me to a screaming orgasm with his sweet tongue and thrusting fingers.
Speaking of thrusting, once my orgasm had left me a breathless quivering mess, Jon would slide up over me. His young enthusiastic cock would be hard again; hard and ready for his mother's hot dripping pussy. He would not be gentle. Need, desire and lust for his mother would cause him to slam hard into me; burying himself balls deep into the welcoming heat of my hungry pussy.
I'd wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper into my forbidden heat and cry out in his ear, urging him to fuck his mother harder and deeper, telling him how much I needed my son's cock. As hot as the idea of him filling my mouth was, thinking about feeling his cock twitch inside me, filling my pussy with his hot load caused my fingers to move faster across my clit.
I leaned back, sitting on the edge of the chair next to the window and lifting my leg, placed it on the edge of the sill. Staring down at Jon, who was laying there unaware of the fact his mother was masturbating to the thought of fucking him, I brought my other hand into play, shoving my fingers inside my yearning pussy.
"Oh, yeah." I moaned, my fingers making wet sucking sounds as they thrust inside, "That's it, baby, give it to me! Fuck mommy's pussy! Show me how much you want me! Oh..."
The sound of my voice uttering those nasty words sent me over the edge. I let my head fall back and released a loud moan as I came to the thought of my son on top of me, moaning in my ear as he spurted inside me.
My hips thrust upwards, envisioning my fingers as Jon's cock and shoving them deeper inside me. I slumped back against the chair, panting for breath and removing my fingers, held them up in front of my face, marveling at how wet they were. I couldn't recall the last time I had been so wet or cum so hard.
I sucked my fingers into my mouth, enjoying the taste and wishing I was sucking my sticky sweet juices from Jon's glistening and dripping cock once he was done fucking me. I remained leaning against the chair and glanced over at my lap top on the night stand.
Now that I had taken the edge off, at least for the moment because I had been horny as hell for most of the last two days, I was back to thinking how terrible what I had just done was.
I had gotten off to the thought of my son. Sucking and fucking my own son. Two days ago I would have shook my head in disgust at the idea of a mother committing incest. In fact I was disgusted and had expressed those feelings.
Yet even as I had told Cynthia how sick I thought she was there had been something within me that had been turned on. But I could have dismissed those thoughts as strange reactions to the shocking discovery that my long time best friend was having sex with her son.
Then Cynthia had talked about it with me and sent me a video of them and told me to watch it. My first reaction was to delete it and I should have. If I had I would not have spent the last couple of days telling myself I was sick, then the next minute staring at my son like I was Kay Parker from that movie Taboo from years ago.
I'd had the mouse hovering over delete, but hadn't done it. The look on Cynthia's face when I'd spied on her with Tommy, then the way she had told me about how good it felt, how hot it was...I'd watched it once, then again and the second time got off to it, then again and again.
I'd told myself it was sick and I was just getting off to Cynthia's sickness, to watching her and her son crossing the ultimate line. But once I'd shut that damned video off and went to sleep it was dreams of Jon that came to me.
My son coming into my bed and telling me how much he wanted me. Tossing the sheet from me and crawling onto the bed. Kissing me, pulling my top down and sucking on my breasts, sliding lower and kissing his mother where a son had no right kissing her and me loving every minute of it.
In the dream I rolled him over, sucked his hard cock, then climbed on top and rode him hard and fast. Took him the way an experienced woman would take a young man. Fucked him so hard he was whimpering beneath me, then cried out as he came for me.
I'd awoken with my heart pounding and my pussy dripping. I tried to brush it off as a reaction to the movie and was relieved that when I went back to sleep I was not revisited by those images.
But the next morning when Jon had come up from after working out in the basement. Shirtless, sweat dripping down his well muscled body and wearing those skimpy little shorts. Had those shorts always been so tight?
Had they always showed off that impressive bulge between his legs and his damn fine ass? I must have been looking at him oddly because he had asked if I was okay and I'd made some joke about a senior moment.
I watched him run upstairs to take a shower, my eyes locked onto his tanned muscular back and had been surprised to find my nipples had stiffened and there was a heat between my legs I had been ashamed of. Since that moment any time I saw my son I was now seeing him as a good looking young man who according to Cynthia would want to please me like no other man.
Cynthia had insisted all sons had a repressed desire for their mothers and the rules of society kept it that way, but when something happened that made them see their mother as a true woman; a sexy, desirable woman who loved them the way no other girl ever could?
I blinked and focused on the here and now and not the straight out of penthouse letters conversation I'd had. I shifted my gaze from the laptop before I was tempted to watch Cynthia getting her face covered in her son's cum for the tenth time in two days.
A glance down into the yard showed Jon had sat up and was playing with his phone. I watched his long thick fingers moving as he sent a text to someone and thought about them working my nipples and pussy.
If things got really heavy maybe even one of those fingers could find their way in my ass, after all I'd never been adverse to some occasional back door action if the guy was a good lover and earned it and something told me Jon would be very attentive to his mother.
Now that he was sitting up I recalled why I was in the window in the skimpy robe to begin with. Cynthia had stressed how things had started between her and Tommy by him seeing her as a sexual woman and swore that Jon would be attracted to me if I gave him a reason to be.
I told her that was bullshit, that a son wouldn't desire his mother just from seeing some skin. But then again I had also told her she was disgusting and needed help and had since proceeded to become obsessed with not only her incestuous relationship, but investigating one of my own.
I didn't dress frumpy, but didn't make it a habit to dress provocatively around Jon. In fact on nights I would go out to a club or bar looking to meet someone I would usually leave when he was in his room or working so he wouldn't see his mother in a short, revealing dress.
Jon senior had left, or more accurately been thrown out, four years ago and although I'd been with a few guys when I'd gotten to the point I needed to get laid, I hadn't been serious with anyone and never brought a man back home.
I didn't need Jon hearing me or seeing a strange man coming out of my room. In general I considered myself a proper mother and proper moms didn't strut their stuff around the house.
Yesterday after a night that consisted of masturbating several times to that damn video and a wet dream about fucking my son, I decided to put her theory to the test. I told myself it was to disprove it; to show a little skin and see that Jon would pay no attention to me.