Mustang Sammie

A fictional, incestuous tale of mother and son, of dangerous and sometimes impersonal, hot sex, and a sense of disbelief.

I hope you enjoy. Your feedback helps my ideas form.

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The Cold Light of The Morning After

My son being totally normal that morning had really fucked my mind, almost as much as the tingling in my crotch suggested that he had indeed fucked my pussy last night. Over and over it played in my mind, as I could feel him, smell him and hear him ejaculate inside my unprotected vagina.

"Fuck," I said to myself, and was then further awoken by a second alarm on my mobile phone. Looking at the reminder on the screen, I was confused when I read, "Ovulation in 1-Week," as I thought I was already. My husband had been away so long that I had got my dates wrong. Having dodged a bullet, I had a new thought, I urgently needed the morning after pill.

I put it off, hoping for clarity that this was all in my mind. But how does sperm get in your vagina from a dream? Did I dream that too?

"I can't take the chance," I said, talking to myself again and lifting my car keys and handbag. I drove to the next town where nobody knew me and went to the first pharmacy I saw. I knew the woman was judging me, wondering what a woman, the same age as her, in her early 40s, was doing with her life that she needed Plan B.

I looked at the little pill, in turmoil at the significance that, if I took it, I was accepting that my son and I had indeed had sex last night. Ripping off the band aid, I downed it, "Better safe than sorry, now you can forget all about it," I agreed with myself as I started the car and looked in the rear view mirror.

I slowly drove home, still in a partial daze and not really being able to process my feelings. I rarely had been more turned on last night, and the taboo nature of the copulation was still making me tingle. On the other hand, however, which was worse? Dreaming about fucking your baby boy, or actually doing it.....

Only having a part-time job, Monday was my day off. At this point, you might say what I did next was a strange thing to do, but you've never been in my situation. I love my son, always wanting him to have the best in life. So I went home, with some things I had bought in the pharmacy, went to the bathroom and took off all of my clothes. I had a bath, shaved my underarm, legs, and unusually, my pussy.

I felt naughty as I ran the blade over the swollen flesh between my legs. Holding it, tightening the skin to aid the glide, my body jerked when I pressed my fingers to my hood, gently Fingering my engorged clit. I swear it was an accident, just a sharp little nudge of my little nerve-laden nub, but as I did it again, and then again, my fingers started to circle.

With my right hand's 2 main fingers, I stroked and strummed my bud, as with the left hand, I cupped and fondled my heavy right breast. I hefted it, caressed it, took some shower gel and soaped both boobs, all the while flicking my throbbing clit. A jolt, a whimper, a shot of warmth all shuddered through my body. I put a leg over the side of the bath, spreading myself wide as I left boob, caressing down my own body with my left hand to my open pussy.

While continuing my sensual assault on my clit, I inserted a finger in my wet, hot hole and then the first image injected itself. It wasn't of a celebrity, not even my husband, but as I started to writhe, stretch and stiffen in ecstacy, the image was of my son, hammering at my newly bald vagina.

With fingers still inside my slit, I could feel myself come back down, as tremors and squeezes of my submerged digits, still made me moan and whimper.

I then finished off my beatification, and, not being as warm as last night, dressed in a casual white t-shirt, and my stonewashed Levi jeans.

I was preparing dinner when he came home, lasagne and chips, his favourite. Entering the house by the kitchen door, I was just returning it to the oven, after checking if it was ready, when I turned around and met his eyes.

"Oh hello love, I didn't hear your come in," I smiled, and he closed the gap and kissed me on the cheek, as he always did.

"Lasagne.....hmm, it smells amazing," Thomas said, as he sniffed the air like a hungry puppy.

"It'll be about 15 minutes, you go freshen up."

He ran upstairs, and into the bathroom for one of his 10 minutes showers. Almost perfectly in time with dinner, I was just retrieving it from the oven again, when he walked in again, as I stood up. I smiled, getting a fluttery feeling as I was sure he had just been looking at my butt.

I felt like a silly schoolgirl as we ate, talking about his day at work, and he asked if I'd heard from his Dad.

"Yes, he's hoping to be home by the weekend," I replied, "And he promised there'll be no more double shifts." The latest 6 weeks was indeed a growing trend, doubling up to cover for others, before our planned family skiing break, in a week's time.

"Excellent, I'll not have to bother you to help me with the car anymore," he said, making the first reference of the evening, to last night's events.

I guess I knew what I was saying, but I'll tell myself if was just a Freudian slip as I replied, "Don't be silly. If I'm available and can help, you can use me as you wish."

He was just taking a bite and, paused his chewing just said, "Thanks," and then held my gaze, before looking down to take another forkful.

Now behaving like a silly kid, I was in turmoil in my head. Had last night actually happened as I remembered, I had just invited him to an encore. I could feel my nipples pressing into my bra, and I knew by the material that it would be obvious through my t-shirt. Looking down, I quickly observed that, indeed, my girls were saluting him.

Just then, he asked if I was finished and he stood and reached for my plate. I reached it to him, but didn't let go as he took it into his grip as I stared at him and said, "Thanks."

I kept my grip and looked in his eyes as the word had left my lips. With my nipples erect and my holding stance, I was directly testing him and he failed.....or passed, depending on which way one looked at it.

His eyes fell to my heavy bosom, stretching the white cloth out at the sides. It was quick, but long enough to take a memory back with him, as he turned away towards the dishwasher, before telling me he was going out to the garage.

Hoping to be called out to help, I looked forward to stretching and reaching again. It's always good to feel sexy, even when the vibes are from a young man who shouldn't think it.

Around an hour later, a car pulled in that I knew was his friend, Ben's. I heard shouting, my son was angry but Ben was pleading his innocence. It carried on for half an hour, then it seemed to die down and Ben stayed until about 10pm.

Like a lovesick kid, I missed helping him, even though it had only happened once. Between, apparently, making up with Ben, and his father's imminent return, I felt that I wouldn't be required again. I went to bed, clothed in pyjamas as I wanted to talk to my son. Eventually I heard the garage door, and eventually my son was passing my bedroom. "Thomas....." I called and he opened my door, looking quite chipper. "Is everything ok, was that Ben in with you?" I asked him, deliberately in a leading trajectory.

"Aaaw, Mum, he says he's not touched her, it was just a drunken kiss."

And what do you think, it looked quite the kiss," I played the devil's advocate.

"I don't think he would lie to me, it's all just so messed up. Shannon and I are done anyway, It just.....it wasn't right.

I distinctively remembered he admitted that Shannon had looked like me, "I'm sure you're going to miss certain things," I heard my voice say, before I could stop myself.

He quickly jerked his eyes back to mine, raised his eyebrows and replied, "Yeah......but She doesn't make a lasagne like you. Night, mum. Love you. " He smiled as he closed the door.

I didn't even say it back to him, he hadn't given me time. Was lasagna the only thing I did better? What did that mean?

I lay with the book I had been reading, on my heart. I can't quite say what I did to prepare myself was purely because of sleep. Getting out of bed, I took off my PJ bottoms, then my panties and dived into bed. I was genuinely tired, so I turned into my front and tried to go to sleep, with my arm and leg on the left hand side placed higher against the mattress than the right.

I woke up in the morning, and nothing had happened. No stickiness, no sperm or anything. I must have dreamt the night before, there was no other explanation.

I went to work, a part time carer for special needs kids in school. Just a normal, run of the mill Mum, on just a run of the mill daily routine. I spoke with my daughter, she was coming home soon to spend the rest of the summer with us. I spoke with my husband, he was definitely coming home in 2 days time, I couldn't wait to see him.

Thomas got home, and over pizza I filled him in on the news. "When's Dad home?" He asked and I confirmed it would be Thursday. "Cool," he said, with a strange, false expression.

He told me that Ben was coming over later, to help him with the car. I felt dejected, deflated and apparently not able to hide it, he picked up on it immediately.

"What's wrong?" He said and I told him it was nothing. But he asked me once Again.

Sheepishly, I told him I had really enjoyed our evening together, and if he needed me, to just ask, but he didn't really get quite how upset I was.

I went to bed early, in my usual attire and lay on my front, trying to get to sleep, to no avail. I felt like I was half asleep when I heard my bedroom door open, then gently close again.

He entered the bed from the bottom this time, underneath the bedspread. I felt him crawling up my body, kissing my legs from the back of my knees, up my thighs and, instinctively, I raised my butt and opened my legs, preparing myself for what came next.

I groaned as he kissed over my buttocks, taking my ass in his grip. He kissed down my ass crack and over my anus, slipping his tongue into my vagina and I rolled my hips to accept the wet" warm intrusion. He hummed, as if impressed at finding my pussy now shaven, and the vibrations rolled off his tongue to my clitoris.

"Thomas," I breathed, as the heat of arousal and pleasure started to spread outward from my core. He didn't speak, but made me wet with this saliva and my own juices, basting my folds in preparation, before he began to roll my t-shirt up, kissing up the small of my back, licking me, making me moan and stretching my arms out before me.

Now he was up to my shoulders, kissing my neck and his hands cupped my breasts, as I raised my body to allow my t-shirt to desert its post, as my last barrier to being naked with my son.

Teasing a feathered finger down my spine, I could feel his cock on my ass crack, looking for my entrance, wanting to come home, and my pussy angled to accept it. "Thomas," I moaned, feeling hot and flushed, as he reached down and touched my vagina on the way to his penis.

He leaned forward, next to my ear and whispered, "I'm a man now. Call me Tom."

My pussy had been wet already, but I could feel a trickling down my leg as he set his mushroom head in my folds. He rubbed it around and nudged my clit as I breathed out, "Yes."

That must have been what was waiting for, because as I hissed out the end of the word, he gently pushed forwards and slowly, his uncut head entered me. Then, with a further push, about a third of his hard, long length parted the walls of my vagina, as, "Uuuung" escaped my lips and soon, he was right up in me.

Pulling me back, he seated himself, like a jockey controlling his mount. I could feel his cock inside my cunt, moving as he set himself between my spread legs, and he started to stroke in and out. It was gentle at first, just leisurely caressing in and out, back and forth, his considerable length carried on, every vein and ridge now being my tormenter.

"Oh Thomas," I said, forgetting to call him the abbreviated version that almost everyone else does.

"When we're," he thumped into me, with his balls slapping against my pussy; "Together like this," he slammed home once again;

"It's Tom," he finished his sentence with force, before he started to really go at me, gripping my hips and slamming back home to where he came from, 18 years ago.

He fucked me hard, fast and brutal, in and out he pistoned. I was writing about on the bed in the dark, sweat was sticking my hair to my face and my pussy was rolling, rippling, pulsing and leaking buttery, thick lube.

I cried, I wailed as his balls hit my clit, then he reached under my body and groped my 34DDs and slowed, as he twisted and played with my nipples.

Part of me wanted to turn the light on, flip around to see if it was real. Part of me wanted to hold him to my breasts, and have him suckle, like a baby.

The biggest part of me, however, didn't want to break the spell, in case reality set in, and he didn't spasm and paint my walls, or even worse.....what if I woke up? I just lay there, taking the pounding of a lifetime, as it built and built my orgasm, until it rocketed through my body.

I stiffened against him, as the first wave hit, surprising my every sensation. He gripped me more firmly by the hips and fucked me over and over. He reached underneath me and played with my clit and the fireworks went off again. My body fell into the bed as I wailed and screamed, paralysed to do anything else as my body spasmed, squirted and contoured in beautiful agony, and gave itself over to pleasure.

He wasn't finished. Pushing me down into the mattress, he put his legs either side of me. My vagina rippled and squeezed as she sucked and clamped him inside. If my cavern had been sensitive before, every roll of his hips dragged and drove his manhood over the pleasure needles, now stabbing into my very being. Finally, as my womanhood clutched and released, bathed and squirted, I felt that final thudding, and the warmth that followed was bathing my hidden, velvet walls and seeping into every cavity of my red hot, weeping in happiness, vagina.

He lay over my back, panting over my shoulder and I cooed at the feeling of his skin on my own. Part of me wanted him to speak, explain to me why he was doing this to his own mother. Not that I was the innocent party in this, I had all but sent him an invite this evening.

The greatest part of me, however, sighed in relief when I heard and felt his sticky front lifting, separating himself from me as if like velcro, such was our perspiration and then, in silence, he was gone.

Almost in a daze, I lifted my iPhone and opened up the Notes app. Just before turning in to sleep, I just wrote the 4 simple words, "This isn't a dream!"