The Fall

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.

*****

Carla quietly cracked open the door to her 18-year old son's bedroom. Testing her resolve, and the hinges, she held the door's edge and pushed it another two inches. It drug softly on the carpet but made no other sound. Carla stood still, holding her breath, as she swung the door wide, stopping it before it touched the wall. The silence and darkness were encouraging, even liberating. She slowly exhaled her pent breath, stepped across the threshold and paused, not breathing, but only listening. "How can I hear anything with my heart pounding so loud?" she wondered, willing her body to calm itself.

Carla stood, frozen, ready to bolt, for some minutes. Her eyes adjusted to the shaded room, taking advantage of the occasional flashes of light admitted through the open window, as its thin curtains randomly fluttered with stray wafts from a sifting warm June breeze. The quartering moon, waning to nothingness in just two more nights, was a mere sliver on the other side of the house, adding no light to Claude's chamber. Carla was perfectly cloaked for stealth, if she but had the courage to take another step.

At last Carla's ears were attuned and her own pulse and breathing were inaudible above the ambient sounds of Claude's sleeping respiration. She padded, silently barefoot, across the thick rug and stood at the edge of his double bed, staring into his placid, smiling, slumbering face. "Ben?" Carla asked herself.

"You KNOW it's not Ben, Carla," her conscience answered, "It's your son... Claude... delivered from your womb. Don't pretend you don't know what you want to do and who you want to do it with!"

Suddenly another, wicked, voice joined the debate. "That's right, Carla. You have hugged and kissed and loved Claude every day of his 18 years and four months. How can this be different or wrong? Show him the depths of mother's love."

"Wait!" Cried the voice of reason in her brain, "Think of Ben!"

"Yes, just think of Ben," sneered the prosecutor, "If he's not impotent, then he must have a doxie in every city he visits. Lots of busy men find time, MAKE time, to make love with their loving wives." The alternate voice softened, "Besides, Claude IS Be... isn't he?... Really?... You can have your husband again by having his son... your son... your sweet Claude."

Reason surrendered. Carla moved in the shadow, adjusting her stance over her son's supine form. His head was naturally propped by his left arm, bent under his pillow. His eyes were closed. His chest, his naked, broad, muscular chest, was exposed above the edge of the cotton top sheet. The early morning hour was still too warm for any blanket. Carla watched Claude breathe and felt her cunny moisten as she imagined kissing her way across his rising and falling plateau. Gently, she eased the sheet back, down his body to his knees, and carefully laid it, folded, across his shins. She sniffed a sharp, yet soft, intake of breath and immediately followed it with a softer, "Oh!" as she saw, for the first time in ten, or more, years, her son's revealed manhood. Her exclamation reverberated in her mind like echoes in a vast cavern. Claude's prick nestled, undisturbed, on top of his large testicles, which lay heavy, full and loose in their hairy wrinkled bag.

Carla was mesmerized. She reached out her right hand and closed it lightly around his flaccid penis. Claude's cock liked her warm, soft, dry and smooth touch. It began thickening immediately in her loose fist. Just then the curtains flapped and, with the zephyr, came a shaft of light from a streetlamp. Carla briefly looked up, then returned, intensely interested in what she held in her right hand. Her long amber hair, washed pale by the mercury vapor light, fell forward, tickling Claude's thighs and hips as she leaned close to the bulb protruding from her encircling thumb and index finger.

Carla gently rubbed her thumb pad under the chin of the fleshy helmet atop Claude's rigid engorged prick. Smiling, she bent and kissed its soft slit as a small blob of pre-cum oozed out. Claude lay immobile, still asleep, but his cock, thrilled by the touch of his mother's mouth, leaped of it own accord, bumping Carla's teeth behind her separating, wet lips. She extended her tongue, circumnavigating his knob, and slid her right hand to the base of his stalk. Her left hand hefted his heavy balls in its cupped palm.

"Mmmm," she mewed quietly as she lightly pulsed her fist, continuing to slide it up and down his erection. Her voice was muted by the top third of Claude's dick, pressed in her warm wet mouth between her soft tongue and her hard palate, as she sucked its spongy expanse. She felt a familiar tightening in her left hand. Claude's sack shrunk and pulled his nuts together, preparing to ejaculate. Carla's cunt dripped into her baby-doll bottoms and her Adam's apple bobbed, swallowing nothing, but anticipating the advertised spend.

Suddenly Claude was awake. He moved quickly and grabbed his succubus by her porcelain shoulders. "Mother," he said. "Kiss me. Here. Now!" He enforced the startling, quiet command by pulling Carla up, off his cock, and twisting her torso. He pulled her hard onto his bare chest, breathing deep, inhaling the unique scent of her hair, body and perfume. Carla eagerly accepted his open mouth with hers. They kissed deeply and long.

Claude slipped his hands from Carla's arms, across her back and down her rayon peignoir. Squeezing her bottom, he found the leg seams of her baby-doll's panties and pushed his fingers under, scraping his close-trimmed nails along the bare flesh of her inner thighs up to their junction.

Carla moaned deep into his throat. Her legs separated and she seized Claude's temples between her palms as she fervently kissed him. Claude ran his right hand back along his mother's spine to her shoulder blades. He inserted his left middle two fingers into the entrance of her steaming pussy while his right hand pressed her down to his chest. Carla's full breasts flattened. She twisted her shoulders in a lazy figure-eight, rolling her tits, beneath the baby-doll's top, across her son's pecs, scraping her hardened nipples, with scant protection, through the teenager's developing mat of coarse hair.

"Uhnn," grunted Carla, then she forced herself away from Claude's face, but, not out of his arms. "I'm so... sorry!" She began sobbing silently and shook in her son's grasp. Gathering strength, Carla continued, "Oh, Claude, forgive me! Ben hardly touches me anymore... I think he has, OH! I don't know! Some problem... or someone else... or..." Her tears rolled across her face and dropped, like hot shards, onto Claude's cheeks. "I'm so...frustrated and... HORNY! I shouldn't have said that! I shouldn't have done this... Please, please, forget it. Please, don't HATE ME!"

Claude stopped diddling his mother's aroused cunt and rubbed her back lightly with both hands as she collapsed against him, burying her face in his neck and his pillow. "There, there," he soothed, lifting his left hand and stroking her hair, drying her pussy juice from his fingers at the same time. He wove his fingers into her hair and began massaging her scalp at the nape of her neck. "I could never hate you, Mother. I don't know what's up with Dad, but you have nothing to apologize to me for, so there's nothing to forgive or forget." Claude lifted her head from the pillow and kissed her lightly. "In fact," he continued, "I am glad you are here. I liked what you were doing. I liked it a lot! I have always thought you were sexy and pretty."

Carla, no longer crying, weakly attempted to regain her self-control and maternal authority. Her voice of reason protested, "But it is wrong, both morally and legally, and I couldn't live with myself if I hurt you."

"Mother." Claude spoke flatly, trying to sound more objective than he felt, "I'm almost 18 and a half years old. You're what? Forty?" Carla nodded reflexively. "So, we are both adults. You're here and you're horny... YOU said so, remember... so let me help you and you can sort stuff out with Dad later. This doesn't ever have to be spoken of." Carla's mind blanked as her son, with his steel erection drilling up through her leaking blond bush, behind her soaked baby doll crotch, and pressing against her belly button, droned on about D. H. Lawrence and some turn of the century novel celebrating incest. She felt Claude's sensuous lips compress hers again, restoring her attention to her lustful need. His clear voice concluded, "... so what's happening right here... right now.., is no new thing, is it?" He pulled back his head and searched her face.

Carla took a deep breath and sighed. Rolling to her left, she pulled her son with her until he was straddling her hips and kneeling over her, just as she had fantasized earlier while she fingered herself in the dayroom. "Oh, shut up... and... FUCK me!" She barked hoarsely.

And fuck her, he did; tentatively at first, and clumsily, to be sure, but, effectively. Carla bowed her knees and drew her ankles up behind Claude's legs, tucking her heels into the hollows of his knees as he drove his fat cock into her open conch. She gathered his trunk in her arms, pulling his chest tight, squeezing him against her aching breasts. She locked her wrists and crabbed her fingernails up and down his spine as he lunged into her grasping, hungry cunt. He did not last long. On his fourth thrust he grunted, "AARRGGHH!" as his nuts bounced on his mother's ass and he fired his semen into her.

She clutched him to her, dropping her hands to his ass and sealing his pelvis to her groin. "YESSS! Oh, Claude, YESSS!" She screamed into the night as she came. "Oh SON! Give it to me... GIVE IT TO MEEEE!" She screeched and panted, digging her nails deep into Claude's buttocks, closing her mouth over his bulging left trapezius.

The flurry ended. The fury passed. Carla released her tensed extremities and puddled into the mattress. She contracted her twat twice more against Claude's softening staff still stuffed inside her. She felt his cock twitch and imagined the final spurts of her son's seed, shooting to join their brothers in their hunt for the egg she surely had or soon will have released.

Claude dropped, panting, on his mother's full bosom and then rolled off to his left. Staring at the ceiling through the dark he breathed, "Wow. That was really something..." He rolled his head and faced Carla, "Why was that so much different... better... I dunno, STRONGER, I guess... than when I have done it with girls my own age?" He asked, not really expecting an answer.

Carla tipped her face and kissed her young lover. "Mmmmm, I don't know what to say, son." She stroked his hair. "Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I know it was weird at first, but I am SO glad, SO VERY glad, we made love." Carla debated telling Claude about the possibility, probability even, of her pregnancy. "One thing at a time, Carla," her wicked self cautioned. "You have a week to make sure. Go for it! Pound it 'til he's found it!"

*

The June morning sun threaded its way through breeze-blown gaps in Claude's bedroom curtains and beamed brilliant gold off Carla's long amber hair, as it spilled across her pillow in her son's double bed. A summering Swainson's Thrush called distinctively from the arroyo behind the walled backyard of the James' home in Pasadena. Claude opened his eyes and was astonished to realize his dream fuck in the middle of the night was no dream, or, if a dream, he still had not woken from it, for there lay his mother, sleeping, one boob peeping from under her pushed up lime chiffon baby doll top, the other covered and crushed into his ribs as she curled against his naked body.

Claude cautiously rose on his right elbow and peered over Carla's shoulder at the electric bedside clock. The digital flags rolled to 8:00 a.m. as he blinked and rubbed sleep matter from the corners of his eyes. The top sheet was pulled completely away from him and lay haphazardly bunched around Carla's hips and legs, leaving her knees and thighs exposed as far as the leg hem of her baby doll bottoms. He smiled at the disarray. It was so comfortably natural he knew he could not be dreaming. Further proof, if needed, was his visible morning erection. For nearly six years, his morning wood had been a faithful companion which he had never failed to greet with a firm friendly handshake. This morning he hoped to make an exception.

Claude studied the calm beautiful woman laying beside him. Now, he had the answer to last night's question. This was a woman: Full bodied, mature, passionate, experienced, and loving. He had laid girls before who had great bodies, were eager and willing, even excited to be fucking him, but they all lacked the essential combination of love and experience. "Oh, Mom," Claude said, under his breath as he stroked his fingers over her tresses on the pillow slip, "I hope you haven't ruined me for anyone else." He traced his left index finger lightly over Carla's scalp, along her ear shell, down her right shoulder to her bent elbow and stopped a millimeter away from her nipple, half-buried in her large round tan areola. "Are YOU ruined?" he whispered, "Should I leave you to wake alone? Will you be glad or guilty; sad or angry?"

Carla stirred and unintelligibly muttered during Claude's rhetorical colloquy but, she did not wake. Rather, she rolled to her right a quarter turn, and now lay, half on her left side and half on her back, with her right leg extended and her left leg still bent as before. The roll revealed her shaded blonde mott beneath her chiffon bottoms. Her fully exposed right breast, no longer close to Claude's finger, mounded and flattened itself, while its left sister pulled from her son's ribs and sank to the mattress, all the while hidden behind its thin green cover.

Claude leaned over his mother and pressed his left hand to her bare tit, twiddling her inverted square nipple until it stood from its tan field and rubbed between his finger tips. He pushed the heel of his hand up, lifting her breast and holding it firmly in his palm, then massaged the firm smooth tissue in a large slow circle. Meanwhile he lowered his face and kissed Carla sweetly, holding the contact until he saw her eyelids flutter. Pulling back, he looked through her hazel eyes, past their gold flecked irises, into her soul. "Good morning, Sunshine," he said huskily, testing an endearment, hoping for the best. "How are you doing?"

Carla's eyes flashed a momentary panic then sparkled as she smiled broadly. Reaching up she enfolded Claude in her arms and pulled him down, pressing his solid chest to her bosom. "I'm doing great!" she buzzed in his left ear, "Thank you, very much... and," she paused, stuck her tongue into her son's ear and rimmed the shell, sucking his lobe as she backed out, "how's my young man? Do you still want to love me?" She quickly added, "Don't answer that! I can find out myself!" Like a cat falling from a height, Carla rose up, twisted and rolled the two of them to her right, ending up kneeling astride Claude's quads. She looked through the valley between her boobs and saw his standing lance. "Oh my!" She exclaimed, in mock horror, "Just look at YOU! Something must be DONE!"

Scooting forward, Carla sat back on her heels. Claude's boner was a steel rod against her bottom. She raised her arms, pulled off her lime top and leaned over the teenager's head, dangling her pendant tits before him. Claude reached up and hugged her close to his face. Latching on to her left nipple, he suckled voraciously as his hands cruised down Carla's naked spine to the waistband of her bloomers. He slid his hands beneath the chiffon and elastic. His palms glided over his mother's hips and ass as his flexed wrists pulled her bottoms clear of her butt. Continuing down her thighs, he heard her moan as she settled back and squatted over his rampant dick. He felt his sensitive bulb tickling, then penetrating, the outermost folds of her warm pussy.

Carla rocked first to her left, then to her right, lifting her knees alternately, then reached back and pulled her pants away from her feet. Quickly replacing her cunny's entrance on top of Claude's stalk, she spread her palms on his pectoral table as she pushed herself hard, down onto his fat cock, burying him to the hilt. She thrilled as his balls crushed against her ass and his dick's tip bumped her back wall.

"UNNHH!" Carla grunted, "Oh... SO...DEEEEP!"

"Huhn! Huhn! Huhn!" Claude puffed, thrusting up and pulling his mother's hips back, smashing them against his pelvis.

"UNNHH! Yes! Hard... Harder... HARDER!" Carla begged, screaming, as orgasmic oblivion overtook her.

"Huhn! Huhn! Huhn!" Claude kept chugging. He wanted to last, to maintain, but Carla's exacting contractions were remorseless. They demanded immediate satisfaction.

"OH YESSS!" Carla cried, "NOW!... Give IT to me NOW!... AYYEEESSSS!"

Claude roared. "ARRRGGH!" and thrust a final time, crunching his butt and clawing Carla's ass, clamping her to him lest any of his swimmers miss the pool. His nuts burst, his cock flexed deep in Carla's twat, shooting again and again as she whimpered and moaned in her frenzied ecstasy.

Carla refused to let her son loose. She dropped herself onto his chest and stomach, pinning him on the bottom sheet, as she extended her legs, seizing and squeezing his prick with her pussy. It softened inside her and still she was filled up. Carla kissed Claude deeply, mauling his mouth and scratching her nails through his hair. He held her tight, running his hands randomly over her smooth porcelain back.

At last their emotions played out and they lay as a sculpted pair, motionless, breathing as a unit, grinning like idiots. "Oh my God, that feels so GOOD!" Carla wheezed, breaking their long kiss. "Oh, how you do fill me up!"

"I can't think of a better way to say 'Good Morning'," Claude chuckled, "that's for sure!" He rolled them 180 degrees, kissed Carla briefly, then slid down her body, trailing butterfly kisses over her neck and across her breasts to her tummy. When he reached her navel he paused and drilled his tongue to its knot before continuing to slide over her abdomen, into her golden forest. "MMMmmm," he mumbled, inhaling her sex-scent and licking the beaded sweat and lubricants still clinging to her curly yellow muff. He raised is head and winked, "I think there's more juice in the pantry, Mom." Claude slid his hands under Carla's buttocks and served her cunny up to his face. Driving his tongue into her flared pussy, he buzzed his lips against hers. He slid his nose along her slit until he found her swollen button. She lurched involuntarily as he gave her clit an 'Eskimo kiss' before latching on to it with his lips and teeth. He sucked and gently nibbled her blunt stub until she screamed and came again.

"AYEEESSS! MORE!" Carla screeched, vising Claude's head with her thighs; driving his face forward and down with her hands on the top of his head.

Claude remained fixed on Carla's clitoris as she twerked her ass and rolled her hips. She was happily unable to escape his powerful gripping hands or his tormenting teases. Suddenly he stood and pulled his mother by her legs to the end of his bed. Holding her ankles in his hands he raised her legs high in the air and rolled her back onto her shoulders. Stepping in, he stabbed his revived iron staff back into her dripping cunt and pushed it home.

"UUNNHH!" Carla yelped, with surprise, as once again her pussy was plugged by her son's thick piston.

Claude held his mother's legs like wheelbarrow handles. He pushed her ankles out and forward, folding her calves down against her hams. Carla stared between her outstretched hips and upraised ass at Claude, rocking his pelvis forward and back like a machine. "MORE. Huh! MORE. Huh! MORE. Huh!" Claude chanted. His atonal rhythm was a beating drum and his cock was the chained oarsman stroking Carla's boat in a raging sea.