It was midnight. The forty-year-old Latino Tatiana lay naked on her bed, cupping one of her huge H-cup udders with one hand; rapidly pumping four fingers in and out of her pussy with the other.
She made sure to stifle her moans, for her twenty-year-old son was just a room over. She knew he stayed up late playing video games with his headphones around this time.
'Or maybe he's... masturbating, just as I am; thinking of me as I am him.'
Tatian regretted that thought as soon as it came into her mind. Nonetheless, her movements hadn't slowed in the slightest. If anything, they'd picked up.
'God, why did I even think that? Has this what... lust done to me? He's my son - I gave birth to him for God's sake.'
Yet despite her disgust at the idea of imagining her son masturbate, Tatiana was a woman familiar with the act of incest - engaging in it. It's what she constantly did with her younger brother, with whom she would use to cheat on her now-deceased husband.
However, now, too, her brother was gone.
It had been two weeks since his death. The woman was saddened, mourning--aching--to be sure. But still, her body had gotten so used to the constant incestuous lovemaking, to the point that two weeks without, felt like several months without.
'I told myself I would wait at least a month,' she thought to herself.
'But I... can't. I'm so sorry, Javier.'
Tatiana's fingering accelerated. She curled her toes; gritted her teeth as drool came down her lips. Her pupils dilated. A sharp moan escaped her lips.
'I'm... cumming, Mateo!!!'
Water sprayed from her pussy, slathering the bed. She whimpered, bringing her thick thighs close together to curl up into a ball. Heavily, she panted, staring at her sticky wet hand - a certain grossness in her teary eyes.
'Why would I even think... to call out my son's name?'
She knew why. Tatiana thought back to a point last week.
__
She was downstairs in the kitchen, setting the food on the dinner table. When she finished, she looked upstairs to routinely shout,
"Papito, dinner's ready!"
He didn't answer. The woman's heart skipped a beat.
'He always answers - why not now?'
Her thoughts raced thereafter. Four years ago, her husband died of a heart attack, alone in their room when she'd got up by herself to make breakfast - figuring he was just especially tired.
The same as how she stayed from the kitchen and called her husband--not receiving an answer--was the same as how she currently stayed downstairs, calling her precious young man.
"Mateo!"
Swiftly, she started up the stairs, turning the knob on his door and bursting inside to see him lying naked on his bed, headphones on his head, and ten-inches thick throbbing cock in hand.
"Mom, what the fu-?!"
"I-I'm so sorry!"
She left the room in a panic - flushed cheeks and a growing dampness on her panty. Since that day, her mind couldn't stop going back to his cock; how massive it was.
And truthfully, she knew that deep down, she wanted it. She wanted her son's huge cock to jackhammer her pussy and make her squirt again and again.
__
Tatiana stayed up an additional hour, thinking about her taboo feelings for her son.
'Al carajo,' she eventually thought.
'I've... acted on my feelings for my brother. Though granted, he seduced me. But still... I have to get a hold of my son's cock. I want it. I need it. I'll make him want to give it to me.'
Thus, on Saturday morning, she rose and got attired in a short white dress that emphasized her curves and curvaceous figure. She made sure she wore no undergarments.
Leaving her room and promptly turning to her right, she took a few steps to arrive at the door before her son's room.
Knocking on it twice, she casually called,
"Papito."
No response.
She knocked again, getting irritated.
"Mateo!"
"What, Mom?!"
"Open the door this instant, young man! We need to talk!"
The door flung open, and there he stood with gritted teeth: the rueful Mateo. He wore only blue shorts. And though he was without a shirt, and one who did no workout whatsoever, his body wasn't impressive, nor unimpressive; simply ordinary.
His face, however, was anything but ordinary. He shared his parents' good looks, and so was quite handsome. Not that he cared.
"What do you mean 'talk', old lady?"
Tatiana scoffed at the words "old lady".
"I mean: we should sit and have a conversation that's been long overdue. Let me in, Mateo."
Mateo's face shifted into a frown of slight wonder. His curiosity was piqued to be sure.
"Huh... Fine." Moving toward his bed, he sat. His mother did the same, sitting directly to his left, slightly leaning forward so as to give him a view of her cleavage.
Mateo swallowed hard before regaining his nerves to look her in the eyes.
"W-Wha-?"
"Shh."
Brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, Tatiana said,
"You've graduated, yet all you've done since then is stay in your room playing video games and... touching yourself. What are you going to do with your life, Papito?"
He bared his teeth.
"I'm working on something - and stop calling me 'Papito'. I'm not a kid."
"No," she said, resting a hand on his leg and causing him to tense.
