She stood in the doorway of his room, the thin cotton nightgown clinging to her curves from the humid night air. At twenty-two he was no longer the boy she had raised, but the man whose eyes now followed every sway of her hips when she thought he wasn't looking. The house was quiet except for the low hum of the fan, and the secret they had both been nursing all summer hung thick between them.
He sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, the muscles in his arms tense. "Mom," he said, voice low, "you don't have to pretend anymore."
She stepped inside and closed the door. The lock clicked. "I've been pretending since you came home from college. Every time you brushed past me in the kitchen, every time you looked at me like you wanted to devour me."
He stood and crossed the room in two strides. His hands found her waist, pulling her against him so she could feel the hard length of his cock pressing through his shorts. "Then stop pretending."
Her fingers slid down his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin until they reached the waistband. She tugged his shorts down, freeing him. He was thick and already leaking at the tip. She wrapped her hand around him and stroked once, slow and firm, watching his face tighten with need.
"Fuck, Mom," he groaned.
She dropped to her knees. "Call me that again while I taste you."
Her tongue flicked over the head, licking away the bead of pre-cum before she took him into her mouth. She sucked him deep, cheeks hollowing, one hand cupping his balls as she worked him. He thrust gently, fingers tangling in her hair, guiding her rhythm. The wet sounds of her mouth filled the room.
When he was close, she pulled back, stood, and let the nightgown fall from her shoulders. Her breasts were full, nipples tight. She climbed onto the bed and spread her legs. "Come here. I want my son inside me."
He climbed over her, cock nudging her slick folds. He pushed in slowly, stretching her, both of them gasping at the tight fit. Once he was buried to the hilt he paused, forehead against hers.
"You feel so fucking good," he whispered.
She wrapped her legs around him. "Move. Fuck your mother like you've been wanting to."
He did. Long, deep strokes that made the bed creak. Her hands gripped his ass, pulling him harder into her with every thrust. Sweat slicked their skin. She came first, clenching around him, moaning his name into his neck. He followed seconds later, pumping hot pulses deep inside her.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard. Outside, the fan kept turning. Inside, nothing would ever be the same again.
