Nineteen was a good year for me. I was out of the house for the first time, not far from home but far enough to feel independent. I was in my first year at State U (pre-med), and thanks to my Dad's successes my tuition and basic living expenses were covered. I had a part-time job at a coffee shop to earn spending money and flirt with the art school girls, but otherwise I could just focus on my studies.
Speaking of Dad, that success didn't come free. He worked long hours and travelled constantly. I learned early on that this was just how our family was - Mom and I lived our lives, and Dad would drop in occasionally to pat me on the head, give mom a peck on the lips, and swap out the clothes in his suitcase. I exagerate a little, but not much. It didn't occur to me until much later how lonely it all must have been for Mom.
Mom never complained though. She had a nice house in a nice neighborhood, a new car every few years, and while Dad was absent he wasn't abusive and didn't treat her like a trophy. Her life was secure and she could focus on raising her only son, and volunteering with the local church.
Mom and Dad had met young - he had been a 27-year-old business hotshot, she an 18-year-old doe-eyed front desk girl at his fitness club. Of all the men who would flirt casually with her every day somehow he said the right thing on the right day, and she ended up pregnant with me.
Now she was 37, and I'd been gone for almost a year. I'd done the gap year bum-around-Europe thing before coming home just long enough to pack and move to an off campus studio apartment. Now my life was just the drudgery of undergrad classes and oatmilk lattes.
Today, like most days, my phone buzzed around lunch time.
"Hi, Mom"
"Hi kiddo!" she chirped. I probably should have been bothered by still being called that, but I wasn't. I was a little more bothered by her insistent cheerfulness. She'd always been kind of a Polyanna, but it was genuine. "Just wanted to call and see how my man is. Your aunt Megan called this morning, and..." Mom proceeded to fill me in on all the latest family gossip, the happenings at the church community service committee, and her progress on the latest garden project. "Next time you're down here I could really use your help with a few things. The light in the dining room is out, and I want to get some mulch at Big Al's, and..." this was were I usually said something about being busy with o-chem or stats, and it was usually true, but at that moment I was caught up and I hadn't been home in a month or two. And something in Mom's voice made me a little homesick.
"Sure, Mom. I was actually thinking about coming down this weekend. Is Dad going to be around?"
There was a pause, then "Oh! Really? That would be great, honey! No, your father is at another conference somewhere, you know how it is. It would just be us but you should come! When are you thinking? I'll make something nice for dinner and maybe Meg and your cousins will want to drop by, and..." I cut her off before she could start brainstorming the whole weekend.
"I'm actually pretty caught up around here. I just need to grab a few things and I can go. Be there tonight?"
"Yaaayyy!" Mom practically squealed, and I could picture her hopping up and down with undisguised glee like she did when she got even moderately good news.
"Ok, ok, Mom, it's not that big a deal. Have your chore list all ready for me and I'll see you soon."
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A couple hours later I pulled up to the house. When I stepped through the front door, Mom scurried over to give me a big hug. For a moment I thought about how an outside observer might mistake this moment for the husband coming home from work to his loving wife, and then I had a pang of sadness knowing that my Dad had forsaken so many chances to enjoy that bit of domestic bliss. I hugged Mom back, then dropped my bag and looked around the room.
Mom had been busy. The living room was rearranged. The big sectional was now on the other side of the room, more or less at the base of the stairs, under Mom's cheesy word-art. "To all who come to this happy place: Welcome" read in a random combination of stencilled block and cursive lettering.
"I missed you, Mom," I said, "it's nice to be home for a minute."
Mom just grinned at me and pinched my side through my t-shirt, then turned and practically skipped towards the kitchen. She was dressed in her standard around-the-house uniform of black leggings and a shirt that showed just a hint of midriff. Neither was so tight as to raise eyebrows, but it still showed off a body that most 37-year-old moms would kill for. Her dark brown hair was in a messy pony tail, and as she headed for the kitchen I had another moment to wonder at how Dad could stand to stay away so much.
I hadn't been one of those guys that's secretly obsessed with their mother from the day the hormones started flowing. I mean, I had that one hot teacher that I jerked off too more than once, but otherwise I'd been a healthy teenage boy with a healthy interest in girls my own age. But something about that year away and Mom's enthusiastic greeting had me seeing her in a new light.
Dinner was nothing fancy, but a home cooked meal after so long was a treat. I did my best to follow along as Mom chattered away, but I kept finding my gaze dropping to her breasts, so clearly outlined in her top. Finally Mom leaned back and stretched in her seat, and I had a flash in my mind of her naked breasts jutting out, and me squeezing and sucking at them. "Netflix?" she asked with one eyebrow cocked. I buried the mental image as fast as I could. Thank god she didn't add "and chill" or I might choked on my drink.
"Sure, sounds good. I am kinda pooped from the drive though, so I might turn in soon," I lied. I wasn't tired, far from it. I was confused by my sudden horniness for this woman who birthed me though. Maybe, the sooner I could get to my room and "relieve some tension" while staring at some age-appropriate (and unrelated!) Instagram model, the sooner I would get my mind off my Mom's rack.
Mom ushered me to the couch and queued up some incredibly forgettable movie. Forgettable because it sucked, but also because my attention was solidly on my mother the whole time, no matter how I tried to refocus almost anywhere else. She lounged beside me, her calves across my legs, and wiggled her toes at me. "I'm not crowding you am I?" she grinned at me again, a little more slyly than earlier.
"No, mom, you're fine," I answered. Reflexively I started rubbing her feet and she practically purred, rolling to her side to face the movie. Her hips made a dramatic slope down to her waist, then up to where her shirt had crept up, revealing just the bottom of the simple black bra she wore beneath it. I found my hand resting on her thigh, just above the knee, and my cock twitched. I prayed she wouldn't notice her son practically drooling over her. If she did she didn't acknowledge it and I spent the next 120 or so minutes thinking of nothing but the backs of her thighs against my hip and her supple legs under my hand, and desperately resisting the urge to slide my hand up the slope of her waist to fondle one of her breasts.
Soon enough the credits rolled, and as I hurriedly said goodnight and headed for my room I was buzzing with horniness. Mom watched me go with a faintly puzzled expression. I'd made a show of bringing the blanket from the couch with me to cover the raging erection in my pants, and as soon as I was safely behind my door I stripped and pulled out my phone to try and get the image of my mother out of my head. I desperately tried to refocus on a little blond from Florida, teasing her OnlyFans, but I couldn't do it. I scrolled furiously hoping something would grab my attention, and then something did. Unfortunately it didn't help - it was an older woman, not so different looking from Mom, posing in an outfit that was somehow conservative and teasing at the same time, accentuating her curves just as Mom's had done earlier. "Busting out my holiday outfit early, how is it December already?? The boys won't know what hit 'em this year 😜🎄😈".
It was more than I could take and my hand started whipping up and down my shaft, visions of my sweet, loving mother bouncing on my cock. Moments later I was mopping the jizz off my chest and wondering what was happening to me. I crept down the hall to finish cleaning up and get ready for bed, and felt a particularly hot flash of shame as I passed Mom's room. Her door was open a crack and dim light shown out into the dark hallway. I couldn't help myself, and leaned up to the doorjam to peek through. When I say what I saw almost killed me, I mean it. Mom was on her back on her bed. Her robe was still on her shoulders but lay open, and otherwise she was naked. Her breasts wobbled as her hand moved between her legs. Her body flexed and undulated and a tiny moan escaped her lips.
"Oh, god, baby..." she whispered, the words clear as a bell in the quiet house. She dipped two fingers into her pussy, rocking her hips against an imaginary partner. Is she fantasizing about Dad, I wondered? She moaned again. "Please, please fuck me..." her fingers picked up some speed, thrusting in and out of her wetness with audible slurps. Despite just blowing a huge load in my bedroom minutes before, my cock was immediately at full mast.
"Please, I need it so bad baby... Please fuck momma..."
If my cock was hard before, now it was throbbing. Jesus, was Mom actually fantasizing about me!? It couldn't be. The pace of her masturbation kept increasing. She was in as big a hurry as I had been. Her ass flexed and her hips fully lifted from the bed as she frigged herself.
