You Couldn't Handle Me

(This story is posted on the Literotica website. Do not repost anywhere else without the author's consent. For fans of my stories, they know what kinds of things to expect. This story deals with similar themes as the stories by wannabeboytoy, seducedHylas, and Dark Betrayal, namely cheating, betrayal, and heartbreak. If stuff like that isn't your cup of tea, then you probably shouldn't bother reading it.

A few warnings before going forward. This story is a little different than my others, taking a different approach than I usually do, though at the end of the day, it veers more towards the type of story you have all come to know and expect from me. But, all the same general themes are present, with all my typical hallmarks. But this is a teasing story, and in my opinion, that type of story needs a slow build. So this complete story is quite long, practically novel-length, so keep that in mind. This story will be released in smaller chunks to make it more manageable.

This story is split in 8 parts of varying lengths. Not all of them will have sex, but some will, but don't worry, the high-level of sexual tension will be consistent throughout. Some parts of this story have action, and some have that dreaded back-story and character building. So, if you just want to get to the sex scenes, you might have to skip around a bit. But, I think the full story is the best way to consume this.

On top of all the other themes I stated before, this is an incest-themed story, if that's not already clear. This is a mother-son series featuring a big-titted, sexy mother and a studly, big-dicked son. If that is not your favorite flavor of mother-son story, by all means walk away. I just want to state again I do not condone any of the actions within this story in real life. This is just a story. Enjoy.)

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Chapter 10: Empty Nest

(Tanya)

I nearly came.

When my son approached me, with a confident swagger in his step, pulled me in close, grabbed my ass, like a man would, and told me I couldn't handle him, I nearly came. I had to control myself. That had never happened to me before. I had never even been close to being affected by a man like that.

All games aside, at this point, I kinda just wanted to fuck the shit out of him. The game had escalated, and I had seen what he was capable of. He was good, like, fucking incredible at the game. I had never met a man who gave it as good as I did. It didn't matter anymore that he was my son, and it was incest. I wanted him bad. The fact that he was my son almost made it better.

I had been worn down or I had seen what he was capable of. Whatever, it didn't matter. At this point, I just wanted his no-doubt huge, thick, bare dick inside of me, drilling me, fucking me as hard as possible. I wanted him to see me naked. I wanted his hands and lips on my tits. I wanted to give him every hole. I wanted my son to make me cum.

But in a way, he already had. Mere minutes after him and the little bitch drove away, I was on my bed, bare-ass naked, driving my long, thick rubber dildo into myself like a whore. I groaned loudly as I came, squirting all over my bed, thoughts of my son giving into me driving me over the edge.

It was my best cum in years.

And as I came down, and my mind was tinged with thoughts of me and my son in bed, naked, our sweaty flesh rubbing against each other. His big hands squeezing my massive titties, his mouth chewing on my nipple, I realized I was ready for round two. The Tom in my head was living up to the real one. And I realized the truth was clear.

I may have just met my match.

Of course it had to be my son. Of course. I spent years looking for my match, and after all that, I just had to give birth to him. My son had taken my genes and used them wisely. Even from the beginning, I would easily admit he was hot. As a Mom, you don't say these things, but I knew with his looks he could be a ladykiller. But now, with where my mind was at and what we had been though, I had to admit that Tom was one of the hottest guys I had ever been around. He had a cute face, and his smile could make any girl melt. His dark hair maintained that balance between styled and shaggy, and his eyes always flashed with teasing and naughtiness. And his body, ooh, that body. His abs were enough to make me drool, and his butt was nice and firm and cute. Even before this whole thing started, I would catch myself glancing at his butt appreciatively whenever I got the chance. His arms had just the right amount of muscle, as did his legs. He was clearly very built without having muscles for show. He had real muscles. Overall, Tom's looks were top notch. And anything he lacked, he more than made up with his skill and talents in the game of sex and seduction, and all that combined pretty much meant I had never wanted to fuck a guy a more than I did Tom.

Yes, I still wanted to conquer him, but part of me didn't care. Part of me just wanted us to get naked and see what he could do. Just lie back, spread my legs for him like a fucking whore, and let him give me his absolute best. I knew he was skilled, and it was my right to see him in action, to see what he could do firsthand. I was his mother, after all.

I had never felt that compulsion with a guy before. I had never even had the thought of lying back and letting a man take control. I was too much of a control freak, a domineering bitch. But Tom, he had come so far from what he used to be.

He had worn me down slowly. At first, he had been pursuing me, desperate for me, to the point where he was reduced to begging. I had brought lots of guys to this position, so this was nothing new, even though it was my own son. But when he walked away to school, he suddenly did something new. He said no to me. I stewed on this while he was gone, unable to get over the fact that he had kinda gotten one over on me. He was over it, he pushed me away, he walked away from our game. At first, I wondered if I had taken this game too far and ruined my relationship with my son. Sure, we talked on the phone and stuff, but I was waiting for him to get home for Christmas to figure out where we stood. Honestly, at that point, if things had gone normal, if he returned home looking to just move on, I would have been fine with it. But he surprised me and came home with that little girlfriend of his, and paraded her in front of me.

I think that was the precise moment I became open to the idea of fucking him.

Before that, I had simply enjoyed teasing him, and got a bit of pleasure out of it, sure, but I would never have even thought of crossing that line. But when he came back and gave it back to me by supposedly 'moving on' with that ugly fucking tomboy, my competitive juices began to flow.

Tom didn't really like girls like her. I knew him. I knew what he liked. I knew what type of girl he liked. He didn't like girls who dressed down, played down their looks. He liked girly girls. He would rather have a girl dressed in pink then a girl dressed in black. And most importantly, he didn't want a younger girl at all. He wanted a real woman. After what we had been through, I imagined him ending up with a woman a lot older than him. He liked women who knew what they wanted and took it. A woman like me. Carmen was nothing like me. Okay, I guess she might be a bit witty and sarcastic, but that doesn't make her wife material. That's not enough for any guy, and not enough for Tom. I think, deep down, Tom wanted to be dominated. He would be happy to have a woman call the shots in the relationship. I think that's part of the reason he likes older women. But Carmen was not that type of girl. She was as lazy as he was. Plus, she couldn't cook for shit, and I couldn't really imagine her being especially proactive in taking care of a household. She was one of those girls who would order take-out all the time and just hire a housekeeper. Tom needed a girl to kick his ass into gear every so often. He needed a wife to be like a mother. So, him ending up with this girl barely older than him, a lazy little thing like her, was a surprise, cause she wasn't his type at all. I was his type.

Carmen was a dog. That's not me disapproving of my son's choices in girls. That's simply a fact. I, just... didn't see what saw in her. I thought he had good taste. But clearly, he had a blind spot for her. Her face was plain, like, a blank. I would have trouble describing her since she was that boring looking. Her body wasn't up to snuff. It was just like her. A reflection of her laziness and lack of care. She was a bit of a fatty. I mean, Tom was the fucking quarterback in high school. He could have joined the university team if he tried. Watching him play would make any girl want him. (I totally lied to Tom before about how I felt about football players. I luuuuved football players. Tom was wrong about a lot of things, but he was right on about that.) With his looks, and with his body, Tom had his choice of girls. He could be with the slimmest, sexiest, bustiest girl on campus. But he chose Carmen. A girl with, like, 20 extra pounds, a plain face, floppy breasts, a saggy ass. I just, I just didn't get it. This girl was not good enough for him.

I knew him, and I knew I checked off all the boxes of what he wanted in a woman. Older, aggressive, enormous breasts, hot ass. So the idea of him settling for this girl, who was obviously just a rebound from me, seemed infuriating. What, they knew each other, like, four months, tops, and they had only been dating for two? It seemed like Tom was trying to convince himself he was over me.

He wasn't. He was still into me. He just suppressed it. Buried it. He had been into me for years. You don't get over that type of deep-seeded, raw attraction that quickly. No fucking way. The thought of him lying to himself made me mad.

And the thought of changing his mind made me wet.

Part of me loved the fact he was deluding himself so deeply. The idea of me slowly chipping away at his defenses, making him admit he still wanted me, breaking through those barriers he worked so hard to build up, corrupting him, stealing his affection away from his girlfriend, proving how much hotter he found his mom over her, God, that sounded fucking hot to me. Just because she was with him now didn't mean they belonged together. I got there first. I mean, sure, I had turned him away, but that didn't mean I still didn't have a stake in him. He was mine first. I simply wanted to take him back.

I hadn't been interested in Tom at first, but the thought of reducing him back to that whimpering, begging state he had been in before he left for school drove me crazy. Back when I was in school, I loved making those arrogant, jackass frat guys, who thought that they were God's gift to women, beg for me. I loved breaking through their arrogance and reducing them to their basest forms, having them on their knees for me. And Tom was more arrogant than all of those guys if he actually thought he was over me.

As I explained before, I was willing to take this as far as I needed to. Tom was a disobedient boy who'd forgotten where he came from. Ignored where his true feelings lied. Ignored what woman he really wanted. I didn't plan to actually let this get as far as actually having sex with him, but I would if I had to. I thought simply turning up the heat would be enough to make him putty in my hands.

So, when he went back to school, I resumed teasing him. If he wants to parade that little cunt around my house, I would turn up the heat on him flirting with him, letting him know how far I was willing to go. I sent him lots of slutty pictures, pictures no mother should send her son. I didn't think it would take long for him to break, but I was shocked at how unaffected he was by my work. I think the video I sent made a dent with him, but he recovered well. And when I pushed harder, he pushed back. And when we had our little fight, and he yelled and screamed at me, saying horribly vicious things to his own mother, I had never been so turned on. I had never had anyone speak to me that way. So disrespectful! For years, people yearned for my attention and were too afraid of saying the wrong thing and making me mad. Not Tom. My maneuvering had inspired his passionate anger, and even though his words were vicious, I realized the anger and passion behind them was a good sign for me.

Tom raised some points in our little fight, facts I was forced to confront, facts that made me wonder if I had in fact lost my edge. For years, I had seen myself as unbeatable, and I thought my search for an equal was a fool's errand. And now, I was 42, and I hadn't found that true satisfaction I craved. Maybe my search had gone on too long and my best days were behind me. I didn't really think so, though. My body was still fucking great, and age hadn't hit me as hard as it did other women. Even at my older age, I teased mercilessly, and flirted shamelessly, and guys fell easily to my charms. I still had it going on, but the fact that I couldn't quite crack the nut that was Tom made me doubt myself ever so slightly. For a bit, I did doubt myself, but then I realized the truth was simple. Tom was an uncommonly strong-willed young man. And I hadn't lost a fucking step.

But I was disheartened to find how unaffected he was by me when I put on my little acting show. He bought my act for a little bit, thinking my crocodile tears were real. In the end, he wasn't bothered by it. He thought it was impressive acting, but other than that, he just kinda laughed me off. I recognized the behavior he responded with, cause it was the one I had given him a while ago when he was chasing me. I had been trying extra hard, giving it my best effort, and he was just amused by it. This pissed me off, me putting all this work in and him not recognizing it, but I didn't know what to do. I could see why I had made him so furious when he was pursuing me last summer.

His impervious defense was starting to make me actually want him. Like I said, I didn't think this would go far enough as to where we actually had sex. But as this went on, the idea of fucking him started to sound mighty tempting. Tom had really grown into being a complete stud. He was hot, he was built, and plus, he was so confident, so self-assured and so content in his relationship with Carmen. The thought of changing that, breaking him down to the Tom he used to be, breaking him through sex, the Tom that was desperate for me, desperate for his mother, God, I wanted that. It sounded so good! I was starting to sound like a schoolgirl who's obsessed with a guy. But it was just... the thought of breaking my son sounded so hot!

And it would be good. Sex between me and him. I was starting to realize that I probably wouldn't make him crumble in front of me. He was too good for that. As the semester went on, and my teasing fell on deaf ears, my infatuation kept growing. My son was in my crosshairs.

I was on the chase, a feeling I hadn't had in years. I had forgotten the rush, the thrill of the chase. Zeroing in on a target, hunting him, finding out his weaknesses and exploiting them. If a guy was an ass guy, I wore my slimmest, tightest skirts. If a guy was a boob kinda guy, I made sure to wear my most cleavagey tops. In my younger days I lived for the hunt. And it had been far too long since I landed some big game. And Tom, he was big game.

Sex between us was starting to sound like a real possibility. And the thing was... I didn't mind. I was starting to hope it would get that far. The more he said he had moved on, the more he claimed he was happy with his little rebound girlfriend, the more I fantasized about him. The more I imagined seeing the sweat dripping down his naked body. The more I thought about that confident smile of his twisted into a sneer as he drove his thick cock into me. At the beginning of all this, sex between us seemed like the farthest thing from reality. But now... I was into it. I was on board. The fact that it was incest, something so forbidden and wrong, so filthy and nasty, only added a deep layer of sizzling lust to the scenario. That barrier had been erased. That level of depravity, a level I had never dreamed of traversing, made it seem more alluring to a slut like me. I had never quite found the type of sex I really needed. But maybe incest was the answer.

He was still my son and I obviously still loved him. I was proud of his success in school and in life, and that he had turned into a great young man. That being said, sex between us was definitely gonna happen. It was just a matter of when. I knew it was inevitable, but I just needed to actually make it happen. I just needed the chance to work my magic on him.

The good thing was, I figured I had time. I knew he would be back for summer, and I planned to work my magic then, face-to-face. But then he came to me, arrogantly, knowingly, letting me know he would not be home during the summer, that he would be with his little bitch, and he would deprive me of my opportunity to make a move. This was a haymaker. A game ending blow. I needed him at home to ensnare him, but he had made a maneuver to avoid that. Any chance that he could claim he still wasn't playing our little game was snuffed right there. This was a game move of the highest order. And when he told me this, I admit it, I panicked. I made an impulse move, knowing I was suddenly out of time, basically letting him know he could have me, then and there. It was dumb, I know. Of course, he just laughed me off, and I could see why. It was a desperate gambit, and I was flailing as I saw failure staring me in my face.

But then he patted me on the ass, and whispered I couldn't handle him. I had never been as turned on as when my son told me he would never fuck me. Him doing that, giving that line back to me, that was playing the game, going on the offensive. He had the advantage, and he was pressing it. That gave me hope, that deep down, the game wasn't over. That deep down, he wanted me to keep trying. That deep down, he still wanted to fuck me.

So, it was with a renewed focus, I picked myself up. My son had done the impossible. He had made me beg. He had made me lose my confidence, made me doubt my own skills, making me perform half-baked maneuvers when I should go all the way. He made me even contemplate just giving it away. Just being an easy, slutty whore, just spreading my legs for the nearest stud around.

But I vowed... never again.

I would get Tom home, no matter what it took. And when he gets here, when me and him are here alone, he would see his mother at her best. No begging. No slow maneuvering. No subtle games. He would see his mother, full force, no mercy. And he would fall to his knees in front of me, cause I knew, deep down, he couldn't handle me. He was so good at this game, so I knew if I could break him, my skill would be proven to be unparalleled. It would be my greatest conquest yet.

I wouldn't forget what he said. He called me a 42 year-old with saggy tits who should act her age. I planned to make him pay for that. When we eventually had sex, and I was riding him like a bronco, as his hands squeezed my breasts, and he lost himself to me, his supposedly past her prime mother, he would realize how wrong he had been.

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I was bent over, on my hands and knees, scrubbing the tile of the kitchen floor. The rubber gloves I had on always made my hands feel clammy, so I always made it a point to finish my work quickly. But as I tried to scrub away a pesky stain that just wouldn't go away, I stopped myself, sitting up straight and scrubbing the sweat away with the back of my arm. A bit of my hair fell from my pony tail over my eyes. I ripped off the glove and pushed the loose hair over my ear. And then I looked around and realized I didn't remember where I had started scrubbing. I knew I was a few years past 40, but I didn't think my mind would be going this soon. My mind was usually sharp and clear, but for some reason right now it felt hazy. Maybe these cleaning sprays were making me a bit loopy. I stood up to regain my bearings and noticed something was wrong.