Please be aware that this story explores a taboo relationship and may be disturbing to some readers. Just a quick story this time, something quick and hot. There will be another part depending on how well this goes.
How did I get here? Trapped in this twisted reality where the lines of wife and mother have blurred into something sick and depraved. I look in the mirror and see a woman I don't recognize, a reflection stained with guilt and shame, yet burning with a desperate, secret desire. They both look at me with such hunger, my son and my husband, and in their eyes, I'm not a mother or a wife, but some kind of dirty whore. And the worst part? A part of me, a dark, hidden part, revels in it. Each stolen touch, each whispered word, chips away at my soul, leaving me hollow and broken. I hate them, I hate myself, but God help me, I can't seem to stop.
The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that hummed in your ears late at night. Just the soft ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs and the whisper of the wind outside. Perfectly still. Until the bed dipped behind me. Didn't even need to open my eyes to know who it was. Gary. My 18 year old Gary.
A lazy hand snaked around my waist, warm and familiar even before it started to move. Fingers ghosted over the soft cotton of my nightie, then bolder now, cupping my breast. Through the thin fabric, his touch was electric, a spark right against my skin. God, even in sleep, I knew that touch. Craved it, didn't I?
"Sweetie," I sighed, my voice thick with sleep and something else... reluctance? Maybe. "Go back to bed." Did I even mean it? Could he hear the waver in my voice? "Honey, we talked about this, remember? Last time... last time was supposed to be... last time."
He nuzzled into the back of my neck, his breath warm and damp against my skin, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with being cold. "Come on, Mom," I need a release after the day I have had at work," he murmured, his voice low and husky, a sound that vibrated right through me. "Don't you miss this?" Miss this? Was he kidding? Did he have any idea the way my body remembered every single touch, every stolen moment?
His other hand slipped lower, tracing the curve of my hip, dipping lower still, beneath the hem of my nightie. My fingers found the elastic edge of my knickers, and a thrill, sharp and undeniable, shot through me. He knew exactly where to touch, didn't he? Always did. His fingers weren't still now, they were teasing, rubbing gently against the thin lace there, right where I was already starting to feel... damp.
"Dad'll be home soon, baby," I breathed out, a half-hearted protest. Did I want him to stop? Did IÂ really? The way my heart was pounding, the way my breath hitched in my chest... all signs pointed to no. But I had to say something, didn't I? Maintain some semblance of... control?
He just chuckled softly, a low rumble against my back. "He's not due back for an hour, Mom. Plenty of time for a quickie. Just... just one more time? Please? I really need it." Need it? Like I didn't know what it was. Like I didn't feel the same desperate tug in my own belly, the same building ache between my legs.
His lips followed the line of my neck, hot kisses pressing against my skin, sending little jolts of pleasure all the way down to my toes. He smelled like... Gary. Warm, musky, a scent that was uniquely him, and uniquely intoxicating to me. He spooned closer, his body moulding against mine, the hard ridge of his cock pressing into my backside through our nightclothes. Was he even wearing anything under those pyjamas? Probably not. He knew exactly what he was doing.
My mind flickered back to the last time. Sunlight streamed through the window, turning the dust motes dancing in the air to gold. His hands on my thighs, lifting my nightie, the way his eyes had burned into mine, hungry and possessive. The slide of him inside me, hot and thick and right. God, how right it had felt. Too right, maybe. That forbidden thrill... it was addictive, wasn't it?
He was still kissing my neck, feather-light now, teasing, drawing out the anticipation. His fingers were moving against my knickers again, pressing harder this time, and I felt a jolt of liquid heat bloom between my legs. Was I really going to do this again? Right here, right now? Knowing the risk, the wrongness of it all?
"Mom..." he whispered again, his voice thick with want, his breath puffing hot against my ear. "Please?"
And just like that, something inside me snapped. Was it resistance? Or resolve? Hard to tell. But a sigh escaped my lips, not of protest this time, but of... surrender. Slowly, hesitantly, my fingers found the elastic waistband of my knickers beneath my nightie. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet of the room. This was wrong. So wrong. But... God, it felt so right too.
With a shaky breath, I started to slide them down, inch by agonizing inch. The lace snagged for a moment, then slipped free. Cool air kissed my suddenly bare skin, and a shiver ran through me again, different this time. Excitement? Anticipation? A delicious mix of fear and exhilaration? Maybe all of it.
Gary didn't say a word, just shifted slightly closer, his body pressed even tighter against mine. His hand moved lower, cupping my ass cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle right at the crease. The heat between my legs intensified, a throbbing, insistent ache. He was right there, behind me, spooning, intimate as could be, and I was naked underneath my nightie for him. For him.
My knickers pooled around my thighs, not willing to take them off just enough for him to get inside me, feeling exposed and utterly, terrifyingly, turned on. What was I doing? Did it even matter anymore? The only thing that mattered at that moment was the heat of his body pressed against mine, the feel of his hand on my skin, and the frantic, undeniable need that was building inside me, demanding to be satisfied.
He shifted again, just slightly, and I felt the hard tip of his cock press right against my slick, wet opening, he shifted forward and slid inside of me. I preferred to be spooned, felt so good. "I mean it, soon as you done, get back to bed."
Gary's breath hitched as he slid into you, his thick cock stretching your tight pussy open. He groaned softly, burying his face in your neck as he started to move, his hips rolling slowly, deeply. "Fuck, Mom," he murmured, his voice ragged with pleasure. "You feel so good. Oh yeah, Mom."
His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he picked up the pace, thrusting harder, faster. The bed creaked softly beneath you, a rhythmic squeak that matched the wet slap of skin against skin. You could feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein, as he pumped in and out of your dripping cunt.
