All characters in this story are over 18.
*****
Over the last few months, Sandra Jones had watched her son transform into a healthy young man, and now that he was working his footballer's body was toned and taut. Danny was 18 now, exactly half her age. She was making a salad for their lunch on this hot summer day. At least that's what she'd started to do. Right now she was gazing at her son lazily taking a dip in the pool.
It was hot. The air-conditioning was struggling, she'd booked a serviceman. But today the bead of sweat that ran down between her breasts reminded her of the early summer's arrival. She was proud of her breasts. Sandra was only five feet four and petite, so her 35C boobs looked larger than they really were.
She'd stopped her chores to look at Danny as he hauled himself out of the cool water. Her eyes took in his triangular chest and six-pack stomach, then dropped to his groin.
Oh my. Those little Speedos are too small for him. I can see his... STOPPIT Sandra! He's your son! But, really, wow! I can see it jiggle as he walks.
Danny knew his mum was watching through the window but he couldn't have known she was, well,
looking
at him. He lay on the lounger beside the pool to dry off, not ten feet from her. Sandra's gaze remained on her son's impressive bulge, then she was jolted out of her reverie by a thought:
Oh my! I'm looking at my son's body - at his...cock...and my nipples are hard. Must be the heat. (Oh really? So why is your pussy tingling too?)
She knew it wasn't the heat. She knew it was wrong. And instantly, as if struck by a lightning bolt of insight, she also knew she didn't really care. No harm in admiring, right?
Oh shit! Did I really just think that? Oooh it's... very...impressive.
She felt even hotter. She was blushing all over, part shame and part arousal, and in another part she knew what she wanted to happen next. The t-shirt she wore without a bra scratched at her erect nipples. And now Danny was looking at her. At her breasts, their shape and size clearly visible against the sweat-plastered t-shirt. She saw him gulp, his eyes flicked to hers. A moment of silent communication, understanding, and their fate was sealed. Sandra knew he desired her, and likewise she knew, hoped, wished...
I'm not going to move. Let him look. There, son. Yes, see it in my eyes.
Wow! Mum's tits are fabulous! She's not wearing a bra. She always wears a bra. Oh she saw me looking...And... OM effin G! She knows I'm looking and... Shit! She's looking at my dick, I'm sure of it!
So now each
thought
the other was looking, but what if they were wrong? A mother and son don't just say 'how about it?' and get nasty straight away. So Danny tried a little test. Despite still being wet from the pool, he was sweating. His heart beat faster as he adjusted his Speedos. Just a little tug, a heft of the man-flesh, as if to get comfortable, but he left his hand there cupping himself. He dared a short glance at his mother. His eyes caught hers, he saw her face. It was calm, reflective, warm. He knew the look. She was focused, definitely not looking away. So he squeezed, half-stroked his cock, and looked back.
Sandra was biting her lower lip, still looking at her son. It was true that she was outwardly calm, but her body was trembling with excitement at what she was doing and her mind raced:
That looks like a blatant display. How do I show...Well, he must know I'm not wearing a bra today.
The answer seemed obvious. Sandra put down her chopping knife and while she met her son's eyes, she smiled warmly and cupped both her breasts from underneath, ran her hands over the tops and back down. She smoothed her thin t-shirt against them so that it clung to the glorious contours.
Danny mirrored her moves with his hand on his imprisoned cock. Sandra knew what she was doing, and so did he. She was encouraging her son. Seducing him. And now, she saw, Danny was openly stroking himself and looking directly at her. She licked her lips instinctively, sexily, and her eyes transmitted the message: 'Come to me'.
Before either knew what was happening, Danny stood behind his mother. She bent slightly and could feel his erection pressing her ass-crack through her summer skirt.
Danny's hands went up and under her t-shirt to cup his mother's breasts. Hers pressed his and guided them, massaging her orbs, his palms rolling over her aching nipples.
There was one last hurdle. Danny whispered into her ear: "If you don't tell me to stop, I'm gonna..."
Actions speak louder than words. Sandra eased her butt far enough away from him to hitch her skirt up and bend over, hands on the kitchen counter. Both desperate now, Sandra pulled her panties down and stepped out of them while Danny dropped his wet Speedos onto the floor beside them. Sandra pulled her t-shirt over her head as she felt her son's rod poke at her. In his inexperience he missed her opening, she reached behind and took the hot shaft in her hand and pressed it to her open pussy. Danny pushed, slid in, and hilted.
"Oh shit, mum!"
"Ooh baby. That's so... Yes. Gently darling. Fuck your mother gently."
His thighs trembled at the hormones flooding through him, and his chest trembled at the intensity of feeling. A warm, wet tunnel gripped and welcomed his cock. He pressed, withdrew a little, pressed again.
Sandra met her son's hips with hers. The hot shaft embedded deep inside her was heavenly. Her son's cock. She knew she should be ashamed, but she wasn't. She knew exactly what she was doing, fucking her son, and she knew it would be the first of many times, so she was in no hurry.
"Oh mum. I can't believe we're doing this."
"Oh baby, is it good?"
"Very. I can't...help...Oh!"
"It's OK baby. Cum if you want, cum in me."
"MUUMMM!"
Danny pushed up, his cock burned, twitched, and splattered his goo into the womb that had carried him, while Sandra pressed back and shuddered out a brief orgasm at the feel of her son's sperm jetting inside her. Their first time had taken no more than seconds, but it had changed them forever.
Still hard inside his mother's slick pussy, Danny fell down onto her back. He reached up for her dangling breasts, fondled them, and listened to the voice in his head:
Oh my fucking GOD! I just fucked mum and came inside her. And she wanted it. And I think maybe she came too.
He almost giggled when another thought flashed through:
And I'm still fucking her! She's so warm, wet. And she's really tight too. Oh! She's squeezing me with her pussy!
For a full two minutes they basked in the intimacy of what they'd done, were still doing. Danny was immensely proud and happy. He'd had sex - proper sex - for only the third time and the other two times were fumbled romps, unsatisfying, far from perfect. But this time, MAN! He felt he could go again.
Sandra on the other hand had felt a pang of guilt. Yes, her son was an adult but this was wrong. Even with his cock still buried in her, she was hoping he wouldn't regret it, come to hate her. So she had to break the delicious contact and confront what had happened.