The story of a mother easily led...
***
Ellen Fuller heard the front door open and then close, and as the sound of the footsteps grew closer to the sewing room where she sat in front of the computer, the 52 year old woman's hand came up and clutched the lapels of her bathrobe while the now-familiar chills went down her spine.
"Don't stop," Ellen whispered to the computer screen. "Keep going. Please."
The footsteps actually kept going down the hall, but after a minute the sound came back from the other direction and stopped at the door, and as the door slowly opened, Ellen Fuller's heart raced even faster.
Ellen's face continued to face the picture of a plate of Chicken Marsala, but out of the corner of her eye she saw her son entering the room. At least, Ellen thought as she continued to use her peripheral vision, Paul was wearing clothes this time.
"How's my favorite girl?" Paul Fuller asked as he leaned down and kissed the top of his mother's head, inhaling the scent of Pantene that came from her reddish brown hair.
"You're home early," Paul's mother said in as calm a voice as she could manage. "Didn't you go out with Joyce tonight?"
"Yeah," Paul said, his hand resting on his mother shoulders, softly squeezing the slender limb which was cushioned with fabric. "Went to a movie but dropped her off almost right afterward. Why bother with girls when there's women around?"
"This looks like a good recipe," Ellen Fuller said, gesturing toward the screen as she tried to deflect the conversation from where she feared it would go. "Doesn't it look yummy?"
"It's alright," Paul said, his hand sliding off of his mother's shoulder and moving to the lapel of the robe, which he brazenly opened. "I think something else looks even yummier."
"Paul..."
Ellen Fuller sat frozen as her son opened her robe, exposing her nightgown and the pendulous breasts that were nestled beneath the fabric.
"You know you want it," Paul said as he stared at the plump nipples that were trying to burst through the nightgown. "You want it as bad as I do, don't you?"
"Paulie..." Ellen whined softly, shaking her head as Paul's hand kneaded the doughy breast through the fabric.
"Joyce is built like a guy compared to you," Paul whispered in his mother's ear as his hand lifted the heavy flesh, and Ellen silently cursed as she felt herself falling under the spell of her son's words and hands.
Paul's hand came over to the bulge in his Dockers that reached over to his right pant pocket, and after stroking the obscene lump a couple of times himself, took his mother's hand and placed it on the growing bulge.
"Paul," Ellen said, her breath ragged as she shook her head. "We can't keep doing this."
"We can," Paul said as he gently swiveled the computer chair until his mother was facing him. "We can and we will. We're too good together. Take it out."
"Take it out, Mom," Paul repeated as he pressed his mother's hand onto his trouser snake. "Take out my cock."
Ellen's hands moved as if on command, her weathered finger and thumb pulling down her son's zipper as Paul stroked her hair. Her hand slipped inside the fly of his pants, not even startled when she felt his pubic hair instead of underwear.
Probably left them in the car after his girlfriend got done performing fellatio on him, Ellen Fuller thought as her hand found Paul's penis and pulled the semi-turgid organ out through the fly of his Dockers.
"Suck it Mom," Paul sighed as he watched his mother holding his cock and looking at it. "Nobody gives head like you do."
Ellen Fuller shook her head as she looked at the huge penis and the red curls that surround the thick base of his manhood. How could such a little boy be so incredibly well endowed? He certainly didn't inherit it from his father, that much was certain.
"Open wide Mom," Paul was saying as her leaned forward and pulled his mother's face towards him. "Make me big and hard."
Ellen's head was still shaking, and her mind was still telling her to stop, right up to the instant her lips touched the bell-shaped head of her son's penis. Her mouth opened, and then her lips were moving down the rubbery tube until her cheeks were against the fabric of Paul's slacks.
This is the way he likes it, Paul's mother knew. It was the way that this all started a couple of months ago when her son had reached inside of his trousers and pulled his thing out, brazenly asking her what she thought of it.
She was so stunned, not only because of the vulgar way that he had exposed herself to her, but also because of the size of her son's penis. She had been so naive, Ellen Fuller recalled, while feeling Paul's manhood get thicker and longer as her mouth moved up and down. She had only touched two of them up to that point; her ex-husband's and a high school sweetheart's, and her little boy Paul's penis was not only bigger than either of them, but probably as big as the two of them combined.
A man, Ellen kept telling herself as Paul's hands cradled her head. He's not a boy anymore, he's an 18 year old man, she reasoned, as if it made a difference what age your son is if you're having sex with him.
She disgusted herself because she couldn't say no. She never had been able to say no to her boy, who had been there when there was no one else. Paul was there when her husband was out screwing his bimbo, and Paul was there after his father finally confessed and moved out.
But not be able to say no to your son when he asks permission to buy a car is one thing, but not being able to say no when he comes out and tells you the things he wants to do to you, is another thing altogether.
"I want to fuck you so bad, Mom," Paul had said, seeming to revel in the shocked expression he always got from his mother in reaction to his talking dirty. "I want to eat your pussy and stick my cock in until you can't take it anymore."
Ellen forced her mouth down further, noting with a sick pride at the way her mouth was now well past the lipstick stains that she had seen on her son's manhood when she first pulled it out.
"You're too hot to let this all go to waste," Paul had told her as he undressed her. "Your tits are incredible."
Ellen had lost a lot of weight since her husband left her, being unable to eat from the stress and the pain, but while the inches melted away from everywhere else, her breasts remained the same. This left the little woman with a bosom that looked outrageous on her now-skinny torso.
Her pendulous breasts hung down to her waist, and the weight of her enormous bell-shaped jugs made her back ache by the end of each day. Men looked at her like she was some kind of stripper or something no matter how hard she tried to conveal her bosom, and their stares made Ellen even more self-conscious.
"Let's get rid of this," Paul was saying, and Ellen let her son lift her nightgown over her head, only briefly taking her lips off of the now fully engorged organ to let Paul disrobe her before taking him in her mouth again.
"Bet you're wet, aren't you Mom?" Paul asked, and Ellen didn't answer, but he was right, and now her son was unbuckling his slacks and spreading them open.
Paul's burnt orange nest of pubic hair was a couple of inches from her eyes as she leaned forward to take as much of her son's cock as she could. As she sucked, she thought back to happier days when she would go down on his father, and how she was able to get her lips all the way down to the root of his sex.
Paul was not anything like his father physically, and not only was he incredibly well endowed, he was fully aware of the effect it had on some women, and when he saw his mother's initial reaction upon seeing his cock he knew that she was one of them.
Like the Pied Piper, Paul led his mother without words to the master bedroom, and when he insisted on turning on the lights all of Ellen was exposed to her son once again. She cringed as Paul inspected her like she was a piece of meat, even stroking her underarms to make sure they were free of stubble, something that she knew he abhorred.
Ellen still didn't understand why he was so aroused by the body of a woman who looked every bit of her 52 years, but when she was embarrassed to be seen in the unflattering light, she let her son have his way.
Her breasts, once so perky and firm were now doughy and sagged down to her stomach, a stomach which had been taut but now was soft. Paul's hands seized her hanging udders from behind, squeezing the loose flesh roughly while grinding his erection into her back side before tossing her onto the bed.
Her son mounted her almost immediately, and she cried out as his arching manhood impaled her. Paul seemed to like to watch her react to him entering her, and if she hadn't been wet and aroused it would have been even more painful.
Paul could be loving and tender, but this was not to be one of those times. He was thrusting hard into her, and the force he was using drove the two of them back to the headboard.
"Gonna cum, aren't you Mom?" Paul said arrogantly as he read his mother's body language and saw that her orgasm was near.
"Paulie," his mother gasped, grabbing her biceps while her body arched up off of the bed, and then she slammed back down to the bedding, twitching and jerking around uncontrollably.
"You cum so good," Paul said as he looked down at his Mom, who was dazed and disheveled. "Let's see how many more times you can cum."
Paul had already popped a load down his girlfriend's throat, so with the edge taken off, he felt like he could go all night and so for what seemed like forever to the woman being impaled, he used his mother like a rag doll as he positioned her around as he wanted.
