On Golden Mom

WARNING: If you are not 18 or older, please leave this page immediately.

Incest—a word that has extreme negative connotations. The image that most often comes about when the word is mentioned is that of a father forcing himself on his daughter. Any forcible sex act, especially done by a parent to a child, should result in the parent being punished in legal and non-legal ways.

This is a fantasy of consensual incest between adults. It is intended for adults who are interested in reading about consensual sex between relatives. If this offends you, do not continue any further.

*

This story is dedicated to Richie and his mother, Mag. He emailed me earlier in the year asking if I would write a story about him and the woman he loves. I was flattered that a reader would ask this. The story has got my creative juices flowing ;) as I have several different story ideas which will keep me busy for the rest of the year. Because of this, and the usual aspects of life, I unfortunately will not be doing any further personal requests like this.

This dedication is also for Richie and his medical success. Congrats and stay strong!

Several titles for this lusty tale came to mind. I went with On Golden Mom. Besides 'Mom' being a blonde, I remember an early 80s adult movie called On Golden Blonde, which was the X-rated version of a mainstream film, On Golden Pond.

Happy Mother's Day all you motherfuckers! ;)

*

He rolled over and slowly opened his eyes. Immediately Richie closed them, shielding himself from the sunlight which was streaming through the thin part between his bedroom window curtains. It was a narrow stream of light but enough to make the sandy-haired, naked 20-year old decide that he needed to get up. Opening his eyes again, he looked to the other side of his bed. It was empty, save for the fuchsia thong. He extended a muscular arm and scooped up the flimsy underwear and put it to his nose, taking a long hit of it. His mind vividly recalled the thong's owner.

Her musk—I can never get enough of it.

He inhaled deeply again.

I never have been able to get enough of it for a year.

Another sniff.

I never will.

The earthy, piquant, female scent made his prick twitch awake. Richie smiled, tossed the thong to the floor and rose out bed. He padded out of his bedroom down the hall to the kitchen. He stopped in the archway. There was the thong's owner.

She was a little shorter than Richie. Her back was to him, her flowing blonde mane tied in a ponytail. The blonde hair was a nice contrast to the green of the Packers T-shirt she was wearing. The young man took in the ravishing site of this sexy woman. Seeing how the hem of the jersey barely covered her ass, a curvy masterpiece which Richie felt was an ass to die for, caused his dick to further inflate. Her legs, long and tapering, were slightly parted with her dainty feet flat on the tile floor. He sauntered over to her, his semi-hard penis bouncing about.

"Good morning," he murmured as his arms enveloped her waist, his head tucked into the nape of her neck, and his woody nestled on the jersey against her ass crack.

Mag had been sipping her morning coffee in the kitchen, leaning against the counter top, lost delightfully in the memories of the previous night's carnality. Richie and she had celebrated their first anniversary together the previous night. Actually they knew each other for two decades. But it wasn't until a year ago yesterday that they

knew

each other. Being in his arms always gave her a feeling of security and love. The feeling of his hard-on against her rear caused the peach-shaped bum to reflexively push back against the adored stalk of young manhood.

"Good morning," she responded.

Her lower push-back caused Richie's penis to solidify completely. He lifted the hem of the jersey, bent his knees and sensually rubbed himself up against her. She released an erotic sigh.

"You really shouldn't be doing that."

The college student smiled to himself. He chuckled at the half-heartedness of her cautionary statement.

"Why?" he confidently inquired, after his hands reached under Mag's shirt and cupped her large, bare breasts.

"Mmmm," she purred, relishing in the double approach of his prick and hands. The onset of moisture started in her cunt.

Richie lovingly squeezed the tits, his fingers tweaking the hardening nipples. Again he asked, "Why?" It was a sexy Q & A they frequently did just at the start of some epic sex.

Closing her eyes, she answered with a grin appearing over her pretty face. "Because I am your mother."

He leaned into her ear. "I'm a motherfucker. What can I say? Guilty as charged."

His hands were massaging the sensitive underside of Mag's breasts, while he bent his knees and jabbed his firm member upward, almost entering his 43-year old parent.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, thinking he was going to take her from behind like he did most weekends. After their individual bedrooms, the kitchen was the next room in which the most illicit sex took place in. She started panting.

"Are, are you going to fuck me?"

"Nah. Not now," he said, knowing that his manual and pelvic motions were exciting her. "Right now, I want breakfast."

Somewhat disappointed, she asked "What do you want to eat?"

Again he leaned into her ear. "You!"

He quickly backed away and placed his left hand on her left leg and his other hand on her other leg. He adjusted her left leg so that it was steady and away from the counter. He lifted her right leg, and placed it on the counter top so that she was in an inverted L position.

"Aaahhh, Richie!" she swooned.

Mag stood in a ballet-stretch pose, her butt-cheeks spread and now fully exposed thanks to the jersey being raised above her waist. Richie sat down on the floor and raised his head between her vagina and the counter. He mischievously grinned at the sumptuous display of MILF pussy. The kitchen light did a noteworthy job of highlighting the small patch of fluffy, well-trimmed pubic hair. The pink labia were spread before him like the 'meal' it was. The fleshy petals already had a dewy appearance and seem to beckon him. His nose detected a heady combo of her sexual aroma and vanilla. It was her body wash, and his favorite one.

Nothing like Mom's pussy when it is clean and wet!

Ritchie craned his neck upward into her crotch and stuck his tongue out.

A shiver ran down her spine and a raspy "Ahhh!" was released by Mag as her son's tongue lapped at her twat, giving it a long, luxurious upward stroke. The flat of his tongue glided over the cuntal lips and skimmed over the awakened clit. His taste buds instantly enjoyed her tangy flavor.

Her hips bounced upward, then rolled and squirmed.

"Oh, fuck!" she exclaimed.

The young Adonis gave two more slow laps to the thrilled muff. Mag's hips repeated their bounce, roll, and squirm. He brought his hands up to her buttocks to steady them. Then his mouth covered her most private opening, and sucked on the moist, distended lips. Gently he bit and suckled them, then used his tongue to skim across their wrinkled skin.

"Ahhhhh!" swooned the blonde beauty as the skimming changed direction, Richie now drawing circles on her meaty folds.

The circular pleasure continued for several more seconds. Richie stopped, briefly lost in her fragrance. The smell of his mother's aroused cunt excited him immensely. He could hear her labored breathing, and feel her generous butt heaving in his palms. The next sound he heard was Mag scream...right after he stuck his stiffened tongue directly into the humid crevice.

"Yoouuuu, sweet thing! Oh, ahhh! Yes! Stick your tongue in mommy's cunt! Ugghh!"

Richie vigorously, excitedly corkscrewed his lingua into Mag's buttery gash, its slick inner walls quivering around the tongue, adoring it with a fresh round of nectar. He heartily swallowed his mother's essence, the muscles and tendons in his Adam's apple working feverishly. It was almost like a race between his tongue and his throat—which was faster?

This was Richie's drug of choice—his foxy mother's sultry, wet and horny pussy. He laughed to himself.

Meth head.

Mom head.

Breaking Bad.

Munching Mom.

"Ewwwwww, that's it, baby! Fuck mommy with your delicious tongue! Oh yeahhhh! Fuck me with that tongue!" Mag groaned.

Despite his tight grip on her buttocks, the writhing of her crotch into his face made the young lover rest his head against the counter side. He recalled the first time he did this to her several months ago and her undulations pushed his head hard against the cabinet. It was an unfortunate ending to

the moment

as he saw stars and Mag's natural motherly instincts kicked in to care for her only child.

Richie moved his head around and in between Mag's taunt, splayed thighs. The son bestowed frenzied kisses and licks all over her desperate cunt and smooth, damp thighs. Kisses and licks, licks and kisses. It seemed like it was his goal to have his mouth and tongue touch every square inch of her groin.

The determined stud then began to mash his face into Mag's pink taco, as if he was insanely trying to literally return to the womb which bore him. Responding in kind, the beauty skillfully undulated her hips and rubbed her sweltering pussy all over his delighted face. Richie was in decadent glee as he was awashed in another coat of his mom's juices.

A tiny chuckle escaped from the thrashing parent. She heard her son say—in a muffled tone—"The breakfast of champions." A second chuckle was made. She thought of how many times when Richie was a child she scolded him for talking with his mouth full. Oh the erotic irony!

"You don't remember what I told you when you were young," she teasingly reprimanded as she raised herself up on her left tippy-toes so that she pulled away her sex from his face. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

Richie mused to himself at this playful punishment. He simply re-gripped her ass and pulled it down on his waiting, erect tongue.

"Uggh!" grunted the divorcee as her ass-cheeks crashed onto his facial cheeks, and her slit was penetrated by his lingua. He lifted her cheeks then lowered them then lifted—just like a barbell. He did this so he was orally screwing his curvaceous mother.

"Oh you horny fuck! Don't stop! Stick your tongue in it! Don't stop!"

Unrestrained pleasure was racing throughout her body like a winning thoroughbred. She slipped a hand under her football T-shirt and frantically rubbed both breasts. She was almost rough with herself, her hand hysterically massaging one tit, then the other, then both at the same time. Her fingers tweaked and rolled the swollen nipples, adding more to the fiery fulfillment she was experiencing.

The barbell motion was halted, and he readjusted his head. The son pushed his raunchy, determined, eager tongue deep into her groove. The deepness was intentional, his nose pushing against her engorged clit. Mag's eyes flew open wide, as if the alarm clock next to her bed woke her from a deep slumber.

"Ugghhh!" she wailed, then directed. "The floor. The floor!"

For the studly sophomore, this meant his mother's orgasm was coming on strong, now that he grazed her sensitive nub. It was nothing new for either one of them when he was feasting on her in this manner. He guided both of them to the kitchen floor, he lying on his back while Mag was getting situated over his face. The insatiable divorcee, once sitting comfortably on her son's face, tossed her head about in sensual delight.

"Mmmm! Oh yeah!" she whorishly cheered, lifting the jersey above her head and throwing it across the kitchen. She was now completely naked like Richie.

Mag became a sexual steamroller, grinding her dripping, blazing-hot cunt into her son's face with authority driven by lust. The pelvic movements were initially slow yet deliberate, rapidly becoming feverish. She felt immense power and monumental sexual gratification as she careened her torrid gash over and over Richie's forehead, eyes, mouth, tongue and nose. Her swollen pussy lips were spread on his face, smearing her releasing nectar from his chin to the top of his skull.

She growled licentiously, "Yeahhhhh!" It was a deep-seeded combination of eroticism, control, pleasure, and a directive for more.

Richie absolutely loved it when his busty mother used his face for her pleasure. Having her squatting over him, her bent knees on the outer sides of his arms, her smooth thighs spread over his face, the sexy hip gyrations, the tidal wave of her oils, her pungent musk, the slippery feel of her labia and inner thighs, the guttural moans—it had a stranglehold on the lad. He became adept at moving his head so he could get oxygen while Mag face-fucked him.

"Almost there!" she bellowed as the flat of Richie's tongue and her clit were a match in igniting her climax.

The Adonis quickly raised up his arms and took a hold of her swaying breasts. He squeezed them frantically...at the same time his tongue delivered a barrage of urgent laps to her sexual kernel.

"Oh you, sonofabitch! That's it! That's, that's it! Lick mommy's clit! Squeeze my tits! Oh yes! Lick it! Make mommy cum all over you! Oh yesss!"

Mom always said I should listen to

her he mused to himself. Then in the back of Richie's hedonistically-charged mind, he heard the chorus of Kiss'

Lick It Up!

And that's what he did! His tongue was incessantly applying an oral staccato of lashes to the excited pearl.

The eyes of the writhing parent were hooded over, lost in the fiery, intense and wicked satisfaction she was receiving. She took a glance at her son's erect phallus. It was just a few feet away in front of her, rocking about like a buoy in a storm, as he squirmed under her. Richie's dick wanted her mouth to apply its own oral expertise to it as well as to the twin orbs below it. As much as she loved sucking the taboo sausage and peppers, there was no way she was going to do it now. Occasionally she got selfish when it came to sex. This was one of those moments. The stunning divorcee tossed her head, began massaging her quivering tits, pulled on her turgid nipples, and curled her toes in unbridled, primal joy.

"Yes, Richie!" bellowed Mag as she lifted up her crotch from the drenched, squished face. It was an orgasmic announcement AND warning. Mother and son were so incestuously in synch. He quickly turned his head to the right side. This was so that when his mother shoved down her twat on him, the force didn't break his nose.

Mag groaned, "Aggghhhh!" as her slobbered cunt quickly dropped back onto Richie's head like a ton of bricks. She rode his face—and rode, and rode. The orgasm was electric, causing her lush, curvy body to shake in the throes of unmitigated pleasure. It wasn't only from the unfathomable physical delight which incited the pleasure, but for the decadent mental relishing in the forbidden sex between parent and offspring.

When Mag's orgasm finally ended, she lifted her leg over so she was no longer sitting on Richie's face, now sitting along side of it. She looked at him. His entire face had the shiny appearance of a Crispy Crème donut. They shared a smile, he also licking his lips and making "Mmmm" sounds.

"You like your mother's muffin?" she jokingly inquired with a smile.

"Oh yeah! Your muffin—especially the cream in the middle—is my favorite breakfast!"

They both laughed heartily at the double entendre. Then he hooked his arm around her neck and playfully pulled her face towards hers. Her own pussy perfume and tartness assailed her nose and mouth as she desirously kissed him. Their tongues danced with each other, sharing her juices and their mutual saliva. The kiss was very sensual, and gave way to the two staring longingly in their eyes.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, Richie."

- - -

One year ago.

It seems Richie's father had a habit of fucking...any woman but his wife. When this had been discovered, Mag was crushed and immediately filed for divorce. Richie was also crushed—and pissed at his old man.

It was a late Friday afternoon when Mag's husband cleared out all his belongings from their apartment. Only Richie was present for this exit. Mag was too distraught to be around her louse spouse. She volunteered for overtime at the accounting firm where she worked as an administrative assistant.

The son glared evilly at his father as he piled a duffel bag, knapsack, and three suitcases near the doorway. He caught Richie's eye.

"What are you looking at?" the deposed husband asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"A piece of shit."

"You watch your mouth, young man. I'm still your father."

"And, you're still a piece of shit."

Enraged, he rushed toward his son. Richie, a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do, leaped from the recliner where he was and at once got into a fighter's stance. Seeing Richie's pose and remembering how he polished off his opponent in his last belt test, the parent put the brakes on. Father and son viewed each other like two snarling male lions preparing to combat for the pride's control. The older man wanted to teach his belligerent child a lesson. The younger man wanted to kick his dad's ass for hurting him and, most of all, his mother. The standoff ended when the father "blinked." He silently returned to gathering his things together and then called a cab. He looked back at his son, who was still in his fighter pose without every taking his eyes off the philander.

The blonde Bruce Lee

he silently mocked his only child.

It wasn't until all of the luggage was in the building hallway, the apartment keys were on the dining room table, and his dad had closed the door that Richie's warrior stance ended and he felt his adrenaline also dissipating. He flew to the door and locked it. Then he peered around at the empty apartment. The economics major dug into his jeans pocket for his cell phone. His finger hit the #1 choice on his speed dial list.

"Hi, Mom. No everything is ok. Yeah, he just left. No, no problems. I'll see you when you get home. I love you too. No, I'm fine."

The last part was a lie. He ran his fingers through his hair. His emotional crash struck, and he began to sob uncontrollably. He headed to his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. The ten minutes of crying provided several hours of needed sleep and rest.

Several hours later Mag opened the apartment door. Her eyes caught her husband's keys lying on the nearby table. She exhaled a huge sigh of relief. After locking the door she called for her son. No answer. A brief pang of worry hit her mind. She dropped her purse and scurried for his bedroom and opened the door.

She breathed a literal sigh of relief seeing Richie asleep on his bed.

Her eyes did a head-to-toe sweep of her child who was lying flat on his back. She smiled and mentally surmised with typical motherly pride that her son was handsome. She was about to leave the room when her visual sweep came to an unexpected halt. She blinked several times and then her jaw dropped.

There was a sizeable bulge in the crotch of Richie's jeans.

She felt somewhat guilty and wanted to look away. But she couldn't. It had been so long that she saw a hard cock. Yet, this was her son. Her head looked away...then back. Mag's ignored and marginalized sexuality had been wakened...by of all things her son's erection. Her eyes were glued to the lump. She licked her lips, then felt instantaneous regret and self-loathing. Her conscience and libido started to wrestle.

This is your son...that you're looking at like a male stripper!

He's a young, good looking guy who happens to be your son.

You're not supposed to look at your son like this!

Your husband was not supposed to fuck another woman.

But—