Warning: This story is about a Mom, in a sexual relationship with her son, getting gangbanged by him and his band.
*
Jumping out of the bus Dylan Kemp hoisted his backpack, full of dirty clothes from his weeks in college, up onto his shoulders and started to trudge the last half-mile to his house. It felt strange to be returning, after spending the last ten weeks in college, the street was familiar and unchanging from when he'd left, but things weren't the same -- he was now a college man, his hair shoulder length and with a tattoo on his left arm and another on his right thigh; the kids he'd played with just six months ago were older too, those who hadn't like him left for college now working in shops and fast-food restaurants or as metal workers in their Dad's company and if he saw them he wouldn't be playing football in the back yard or racing their cycles down the sidewalk.
But the biggest change was that two weeks ago he'd fucked his Mom -- multiple times and in every hole. They hadn't spoken about it, in fact, they hadn't spoken about anything, Dylan texting her and making an excuse to avoid his weekly phone call home. She had texted him a few times since none hinting at what she thought or even that they'd fucked, the messages as innocent as any normal Mom and son. Dylan felt a rising tide of crippling anxiety as he approached the gate -- he wasn't sure how it had happened and from what he remembered, as he tossed it around in his mind, his Mom had made more of the running than him. He was sure he could have stopped it though -- the problem was that he hadn't wanted to, his Mom was a fucking hot Milf he had realised and the sluttiest groupie he'd ever met.
He'd fucked four girls since then, a couple who were regular friends with benefits, one in his class who had her eye on him for months and another who was at a gig he'd played last weekend. All had been hot as hell and as eager and energetic as a horny rabbit, but none had been a patch on his Mom in sexiness.
He closed the gate behind him and walked up to the front door. He still wasn't sure what he was going to say, but knew there was no way he and his Mom, Abigail, could avoid having the conversation -- even if it was only to agree to forget it. That was almost what he wanted, but not totally, as he wanted her more. He put his hand on the door handle, hoping it would be locked and his Mom not back from work so he'd have more time to think about how to best manage the situation. Unluckily it gave and the door opened. He stepped inside and swung off his backpack, lowering it onto a nearby hall seat.
There was no putting it off, even if his Mom hadn't heard the front door open she'd soon realise he was back. "I'm home," he called.
"In here," came a reply from the main room.
Dylan took a deep breath and went through. He wasn't sure why he'd expected his Mom to look the same as when he'd left, her hair neat and in a ponytail, comfortable shoes and a sensible dress with a warm cardigan and no make-up. She hadn't been looking like that when she'd come to see him play, so why he had thought she'd go back to staid and conventional, was a mystery he couldn't explain to himself. However, he certainly hadn't expected she'd be looking quite like she did, her hair was now shoulder-length and dyed ash-blonde, messy, but stylish and where she'd previously eschewed make-up, her lips were bright red, her cheeks blushed and her eyeliner dark. It wasn't just her hair and make-up which had changed but her clothes, instead of a skirt or at most slacks she was wearing a tight and small pair of denim shorts with a top that was little more than a vest, which exposed her cleavage and was so low cut it threatened to show even more; and for a woman who had previously been a slipper fan she had changed to one wearing leather boots which went half-way up her calves.
He started to open his mouth, still not sure what he was going to say beyond, "Hey Mom."
"How was your journey?" she asked, getting up from the couch and walking towards him.
"Yeah, good, you know, easy," he said, wondering if he could make the small talk last another few minutes before they talked about him fucking her.
"I got my nipples pierced, want to see?" she said and before he could reply she'd lifted up the top, confirming she wasn't wearing a bra, to show him her two large tits -- both of which were, as she said, pierced by a pair of silver metal bars. She jiggled them, and though that didn't give him a better view of the piercings it did make him start to go hard. His Mom continued to swing them in front of him, "You like them?"
"Yeah," Dylan managed to say, before using every ounce of will he had to force his head up so he was looking at his Mom's face and not her (admittedly, great) breasts.
She grinned and pulled down her top, though it was so tight and low that it didn't hide all that much. "I got a tattoo as well, I've always wanted one," she added.
"Where?" he asked, it wasn't on her arms or legs and there wasn't much of her chest he now hadn't seen, which did limit the options.
"It's a tramp stamp," his Mom grinned, "They used to be all the fashion, but they've fallen out of popularity now as they're kinda seen as slutty -- which is perfect for me." She turned round and bent over, so he could see the angel's wings that seemed to be growing out of the top of her shorts, spreading across her lower back. "I think it's sexy, you?"
"Um, yeah," Dylan nodded, it did look damn hot on his Mom and the way she was showing it off to him, suggested that she didn't have any regrets about their last meeting.
She straightened up, turning as she pulled the bottom of the top down to smooth, which had the added effect of showing more of her cleavage. He couldn't help but look before forcing his head up. His Mom grinned and closed the distance between them so that she was in his personal space with one arm around his waist and a hand on his shoulder, as her bosoms pressed at his chest, only the material of their tops stopping them rubbing direct against him and he could feel the scrape of her piercings as she breathed. "I'm glad you like them," she grinned and wiggled her bosoms enough to make him think she was referring to them, before confirming it, "And the tattoo."
"Yeah, they're good. Bit of a change in style," Dylan responded -- it was weird small talk, but it was better than having to talk about how he'd fucked her in the ass the last time they'd seen each other. The trouble was that whilst he didn't want to have that conversation, his cock was very much remembering it and he could feel it bulging in his jeans; his Mom was so close she must feel it too. He took a metaphorical and actual deep breath, "We gotta talk about the gig..." he said.
"It was fun, you're so talented," his Mom's hand moved down from his waist to his cock, squeezing the lump gently but unmistakably, "in more ways than one."
"Um, yes, but..." he tried to speak, but his Mom was fiddling with buttons and he could then feel his flies being pulled down.
"Talk later, blowjob now," she purred and dropped to her knees.
"Fuck," he murmured to himself. However, he had imagined his return and he'd run through a dozen scenarios from outright denial through tearful regrets to hysterical screaming fits, he hadn't considered that it would be his Mom on her knees fishing his large dick out of his jeans. He should have stopped it before and hadn't and for a couple of seconds, he considered whether he should stop it now. Then his Mom's soft wet lips slid up his cock, slowly taking it into her warm, moist mouth. "Fuck it," he said to himself and decided he'd accept it, the talk would have been agonisingly embarrassing anyway.
Her tongue tickled at his prick, licking back and forth as she brought her head down it. Damn, she was good, he thought, no amateur first-timer could suck a cock this well, it needed experience and enthusiasm, a real connoisseur of cock. His Mom had certainly suggested her past, before he'd come on the scene, had been hedonistic and that she'd partied around a lot -- she'd certainly learned a lot and not forgotten it over the years. He could hardly complain though, not when she was taking his dick deeper into her mouth than most groupies he'd met and with an eagerness which was unmatched by any previous girlfriend. Her head was banging back and forth like they were still at the gig and she was headbanging in the front row. He gave a groan of appreciation and rested his hands on his shoulders, lest he fall over.
She drove herself all the way down his shaft, her lips squashing his balls, his cock all the way in with barely a gulp. She looked up at him, her eyes slightly misty, but not as much as they should have been considering she had ten inches of meat down her gullet, and he wasn't pencil thin either. "Christ, Mom," he murmured, "I can't believe you can take it all."
Her eyes sparkled (or perhaps it was a bit of water) and she seemed to smile, though he couldn't tell as her mouth was full and after a seconds pause she resumed sucking enthusiastically, working his prick with her luscious lips, leaving trails of lipstick mixed with wet saliva up and down his gland. He groaned again, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as his feet seemed to curl and straighten at the same time. If there was a sex Olympics his Mom would be a shoo-in for a Gold and they might have even if he decided to buck tradition and go for a Platinum beyond that. Her tongue was tickling and licking at his prick, even as her lips were massaging it and her jaw muscles working to suck it in. Dylan grunted something, even though he wasn't sure what, as his hands gripped her shoulders hard, digging so deep he could feel the blood pumping beneath his fingers.