I walked into the kitchen that afternoon with my dick already half-hard in my shorts, knowing exactly what I was about to do. Mom was at the sink rinsing dishes, her back to me, wearing that thin summer dress that hugged her ass every time she moved. She was forty-two, still thick in all the right places, and Id been jerking off to thoughts of her for months.
Mom, I said, my voice low.
She turned, drying her hands on a towel. Whats up, honey?
I didnt answer with words. I hooked my thumbs in my waistband and shoved my shorts and boxers down in one motion. My cock sprang free, thick and veined, already leaking at the tip. It pointed straight at her.
Her eyes dropped. She froze, towel slipping from her fingers. Oh my God what are you doing?
Showing you my cock, I said, stepping closer. Been wanting to for a long time. Look at it, Mom. Its hard for you.
She stared, lips parted, cheeks flushing deep red. Her nipples tightened under the thin fabric of her dress. This is wrong. Youre my son.
Doesnt mean you dont want it. I wrapped my hand around the base and gave it a slow stroke. Your eyes are glued to it. Touch it.
She shook her head but didnt look away. Her hand lifted anyway, hesitant, until her fingers brushed the head. The contact made my cock twitch. A bead of precum smeared across her thumb.
Fuck, Mom, I groaned. Wrap your hand around it.
She did. Her grip was warm and shaky at first, then firmer as she stroked me from root to tip. Its so big thicker than your fathers ever was.
I stepped even closer until my cock was right in front of her face. Suck it.
Mom dropped to her knees on the kitchen tile without another word. Her mouth opened and she took the head between her lips, tongue swirling around the crown before she sank lower. She gagged when it hit the back of her throat but didnt pull off. She bobbed her head, spit running down my shaft and dripping onto her dress.
I grabbed her hair and fucked her mouth in short, steady thrusts. Thats it. Suck your sons cock like youve been dying to.
She moaned around me, the vibration shooting straight to my balls. One of her hands disappeared under her dress; I heard the wet sound of her fingers working her pussy.
After a few minutes I pulled out. Stand up. Bend over the counter.
She obeyed, lifting her dress to her waist. No panties. Her ass was round and pale, pussy glistening. I lined up and shoved in deep in one thrust. She cried out, gripping the edge of the counter as I started pounding her.
Harder, she gasped. Fuck your mom harder.
I did. Skin slapped skin. Her tits bounced under the dress with every slam. I reached around and rubbed her clit in fast circles while I buried myself balls-deep again and again.
She came first, pussy clenching and pulsing around my cock, juices running down her thighs. I kept fucking her through it until my own orgasm hit. I pulled out at the last second and painted thick ropes of cum across her ass and lower back.
We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard. Then she turned, scooped some of my cum onto her finger, and licked it off.
Next time, she said, voice hoarse, do it in my mouth.
I grinned, already getting hard again. Deal.
