My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 08

SimonDoom©

In my dream, I stood in a field of spring-green grass.

I was naked. All around me, in a circle no closer to me than 30 feet or so, stood all the people I knew and ever had known -- my family, my friends, teachers, bosses, coworkers, everybody. They were looking at me, but I wasn't embarrassed.

I turned around, my eyes scanning the encircling crowd, until I saw her, on the inner edge of the circle, looking at me: my mom. She wore a pretty sun dress, yellow with bright red flowers. I walked to her.

"Randy, what are you doing?" she asked me. "Why are you naked?"

"Shhh, mom," I said, my finger to my lips. "It doesn't matter. Just come with me."

I took her hand and guided her back to the center of the circle. I smiled at her and she smiled back, with love and puzzlement in her face.

Then I reached forward, to the neck of her dress, and with no effort I pulled it off her body. Now mom, too, was naked. Motherhood and adulthood had left their marks on her body; even in a dream I could see she was twice my age. But she was youthful and fit and beautiful, too. She was more than just a mom to me; she was the hottest woman on earth. I wanted her as my lover, in every way.

She kept her hands at her sides. She didn't try to hide her nude body from anyone, but she asked, "Randy, what are you doing to me?"

"I'll show you, mom," I said. "I'll show you and everyone."

And with that I took her hand and I bent my knees and I pushed against the grass, and I lifted into the air, my mom lifting with me. We flew, toward the clouds, and all the people we knew craned their necks to look at us soaring into the sky above them, fading out of sight.

When we reached the first cloud, I lay back and I drew mom's body on and over mine. The time had come to fuck her, and I pushed her thighs apart with one hand while my cock pushed up to enter her. But I missed. And when I tried again I missed again. I kept trying, but I kept missing. And over the fury of my effort I heard mom's voice, low at first but gathering in volume.

"Wake up, Randy," her voice called.

But I didn't want to wake up. I wanted to fuck her. I kept trying, but every time I thrust forward my cock missed its target. I kept trying and I kept missing.

"Wake up, Randy," mom kept saying, her voice growing louder and clearer.

I thrust harder, determined, at last, that my cock would reach its goal. I gave one more mighty push, but my cock missed again, and it hit her hip and bent at an angle at which it wasn't meant to bend. Ouch.

And then I woke up.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the white cottage cheese ceiling above me. The second thing I saw, after looking around, was an unruly mane of blond hair over my hips. It was mom. She held my cock in her hand and her tongue was out and its tip was no more than an inch from the engorged head. Mom looked at me, eyes sparkly with lust and mischief.

"Happy birthday, sleepy head," she said. And then her mouth opened wide and she took me in. No delay, no ceremony.

Heaven, indeed, was no dream; it was a place on earth, here in my bed, with my mom's wet and red lips wrapped tightly over the length of my tumescent cock. Today I was 20 years old, and in all my years I had never felt anything so good. It was the best birthday present I'd ever had.

Mom sucked me deeply, but not too quickly and with not too much pressure. The result was that she kept me in a high pitch of excitement and arousal, but without bringing me close to imminent release. I was glad of that, because I didn't want mom to stop; I wanted to delight in the feeling of mom's mouth on me as long as I could. I closed my eyes and focused all my attention on the sound and sensation of mom's cock sucking. Her head bobbed up and down and her mouth sucked me in and let me out in slow, luxurious cycles for several minutes.

Suddenly, mom stopped. I opened my eyes and looked at her. Her mouth was perched over my cock head, but it was closed, and she was looking at me.

"This is just a breakfast appetizer," she said. "You're going to have to wait for the main meal at your birthday celebration this evening."

"Mom, you can't do that!" I cried. "I'm going to die of blue balls if I have to wait all day."

"You're not going to die, Randy. You might get a little, hmmm, needy. But you need to be good and wait. I have work and you have work and school. No taking care of business yourself while we're apart, either. I promise you the wait will be worth it." She gave me a naughty smile.

"Does that mean we're finally going to . . .."

She cut me off.

"No. I'm not going to tell you what your present is going to me. It's going to be a surprise. But you'll like it. Now take a shower and then we'll have breakfast. You have school soon and you need to get ready."

Mom was right. I'd slept in, and I had a class starting in less than an hour. Mom left the room and I walked to the bathroom, my cock still rock-hard and sticking out straight in front of me. Under the hot spray of the shower, I was tempted quickly to bring myself off, but I didn't, mindful of mom's words. I would have to put up with intense sexual frustration for the day. I hoped it would be ended when mom and I celebrated my birthday that evening.

15 minutes later I walked into the kitchen, dressed for work -- khakis and a company polo shirt -- but still in bare feet. Mom was just finishing pancakes and sausages, two of my favorite breakfast foods. Her back was to me and she wore the short white waffle-pattern robe she'd worn before. It hit very high on her thigh, exposing the delicious back of her long and lightly muscled legs.

Mom was playing music from her phone, which lay off to the side. It was Warrant's "Cherry Pie," an oldie from the 1980s. A hair band, I recalled mom telling me once. I remembered seeing the video on YouTube. It had a hot blonde writhing around the studio in skimpy outfits and red lipstick. I thought it was funny that my mom and I both shared a taste for ancient, loud rock music. Well, it was ancient to me. Maybe not as much to mom.

You can be my cherry pie, mom, I thought.

I walked up to mom and give her a kiss. She turned to me, and that's when I saw that her robe was untied. It opened for a moment, giving me a flash of a nipple and a brief glimpse of the little slit between her legs. She smiled, and we kissed quickly.

"Good morning and happy birthday, son," she said. "Breakfast will be right up."

I went to the kitchen table and mom followed a minute later carrying two plates and food. She sat down with her robe still untied and gaping open like it was no big deal. She crossed her legs, hiding what lay between them, but on top a breast lay fully exposed to my hungry eyes. It was hard to concentrate on breakfast.

"Mom," I said to her after taking a few large bites.

"Yes?" she replied.

"You're driving me crazy. I'm still hard from this morning and from watching you. You gotta help me out here."

"Randy," my mom said to me. "I know it's your birthday. But you're going to have to be patient a little longer. You'll get your present tonight. Trust me, it will be better if you wait. You don't have a lot longer."

I paused, and I looked her in the eye.

"Does this mean we're going to fuck, mom?" I asked her. I knew it was a weird thing to ask my mom. But I couldn't help it. I wanted her so badly that my need overrode all sense of propriety.

"Randy," mom said. "That's not appropriate. You shouldn't assume anything. You'll like your present. But I wouldn't be a good mom if I told you what it was going to be."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I think we both jumped a little. I know mom did, because the little robe parted and showed even more than a moment earlier, even if just for a moment. Mom quickly gathered her robe together to be decent, and she got up and walked to the door. I stood up but waited in the kitchen, grabbing a greasy sausage out of the skillet and munching it while standing up next to the kitchen island.

From the kitchen I heard the door open and then I heard a male voice conversing with my mom. It was my dad. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but I could tell that it was a tense conversation from the tone of their voices. After a minute of it the voices quieted, and the sound of footsteps grew louder.

Dad entered the kitchen, holding a gift bag. My birthday present, I was sure. He approached me, gave me a hug, and put the bag on the kitchen island next to me. Mom followed him.

"Happy Birthday, Randy!" he said. "How're you doing?"

"Great, dad," I said.

Dad wasn't one to linger over sentimental moments. He pulled away and walked around the kitchen, looking around him. Mom stood quietly next to me, watching him.

"You've done some nice things with the place, Inga," he said. "I like it." After taking his visual tour dad stood on the other side of the island from mom and me.

"So, Randy, open your present," dad said.

I pulled the wrapping tissue out of the bag, reached in, and pulled out the gift. It was a zoom lens, once that would fit my camera and that was better than the one I had. It was a nice gift, I had to admit; dad remembered the type of camera I owned, and he knew what kind of lens would work with it.

"Wow, dad, this is great!" I said with genuine enthusiasm.

I'm really going to like taking naked photos of mom with the camera lens you got me, dad, I thought to myself, but of course I didn't say it.

I looked at mom, next to me, and she looked at me, and I could tell she knew exactly what I was thinking. She smiled.

Dad asked me how school and work were going. We had a pleasant conversation. I could not help but notice how closely mom stood next to me. As dad and I talked I felt her hand touch mine, behind the island, out of dad's view. Her hand pulled my hand toward her body, until my fingers were brushing against the hem of her robe. I knew what mom wanted. I had to move my hand and arm carefully to avoid tipping dad off about what I was doing, so I shifted my body while standing there to distract his attention. While I did so my hand parted the front of mom's robe and went between her legs, which mom had parted cooperatively. My fingers found her sex and one of them dove into her. Mom was wet. I knew she would be.

Dad and I kept talking, while mom stood close to me and my finger wiggled inside her pussy. It must have looked odd to dad to see mom, in a very short white robe, and, obviously, nothing else, standing so close to his son, but he didn't say anything about it. I noticed dad's eyes frequently straying to mom's chest, however, where the robe had parted sufficiently to show some enticing cleavage. Dad may have left mom for a younger woman, but I knew he knew she was beautiful, and her beauty still had a hold on him.

She's mine now, dad, I thought, as my finger enjoyed exploring mom's depths.

After we talked for a few minutes, dad said he had to go, and mom pulled away from me, my finger popping out of her quietly. Dad and I hugged and said goodbye. He and mom said goodbye as well, but with no hugging. He left.

"Were you arguing?" I said. "It sounded like you were arguing."

"Same old stuff," mom said. "He's never happy with the divorce settlement and wanted some more things back. I told him no. Nothing to worry about."

I paused, and said, "That was naughty, what we were doing back there. Right in front of dad."

"What dad doesn't know won't hurt him," mom said. "And it is your birthday."

With that comment, we went back to the kitchen and finished breakfast together. Mom kept her robe on, and nothing further happened between us, but the sash holding the robe together looked awfully loose, and the result was that her thighs and cleavage were giving me an enchanting show. I was hard throughout breakfast. I knew mom was teasing me.

"You have a long day, today, don't you, sweetie?" mom asked me.

"I do," I said, bummed. "School, then work. I'll get off at 6:30." I couldn't imagine how I was going to hold it together thinking about my mom and what might happen when we celebrated my birthday.

"Well, be home at 7 p.m. sharp," she said. "Can you do that?"

"I will be right on time, mom," I said. "Not one minute late."

"That's my boy," she said with a grin. Her hand went to the sash of her robe. She untied it, and it fell open and exposed her. I closed the distance between us and pulled the sides of her robe all the way back.

"Gosh, you're beautiful, mom," I said. It was true. Her nude body was a vision.

"I'm glad you like what you see," she said. "I like when you look at me."

"I want to look at you as much as possible," I said.

"Randy," mom said, uncertainty suddenly clouding her face, "Is this O.K.? What we're doing? I'm not going to mess you up with what we're doing, am I? I want this, but sometimes . . . I don't know. I feel guilty. I'm your mom. Moms and sons aren't supposed to do this sort of thing."

I tore my eyes away from her hot body and tried to read the meaning in her eyes, which were searching mine.

"It's O.K., mom," I said. "You're not going to mess me up. I want this. I want you. When we were standing in the kitchen across from dad and I had my finger in you, I felt like you were mine. I love that feeling. I love you."

"I love you, too, Randy," she said. "And I like that feeling too -- that feeling of being yours. I want that too."

She put her hands on my shoulders and squeezed them. Then we kissed. I felt just a flash of mom's tongue, and then she pulled away.

"You need to get to school, and I have work to do. Time to get moving."

She closed her robe.

"Keep your cell phone close by," she said. "I may check in with you, from time to time."

"OK," I said, puzzled. Mom obviously had something in mind, and I wondered what it was.

I wanted to spend more time with her to figure it out, but I had a class to go to and I had to hurry.

20 minutes later I was sitting at a desk in the middle of a large, half-full classroom listening to a professor drone on. It was hard to focus. I felt a buzz. It was my phone; the ringer was off out of respect for the class. I held it in front of me below the edge of the desk, so the professor wouldn't see me looking at it. I swiped it and the texting icon showed that a message had come in. I remembered what mom said so I opened it.

I almost jumped in my seat. The photo showed mom from the back, just inside the front door of the house, which was wide open. Mom's hands were on the floor behind and to the side of her, and her legs were spread wide, and she was completely naked. She'd set the phone on a timer, and she had positioned herself where a neighbor in just the right spot would have seen her nude and splayed open. It was shockingly daring, and incredibly erotic.

It was hard for me to believe I really was seeing my mom doing this -- my mom, the respectable, well-liked neighbor and highly regarded human resources manager at a prominent company. I couldn't believe she'd take a risk like that for me.

I became aware suddenly that there were people all around me and that curious eyes might see something I didn't want them to see. I held the phone very close to my chest for one last look and then put the phone away.

The image on the phone was burned into my brain, however, making it even more difficult to follow what the professor said. My body twitched, and I tapped my hands and feet for the remainder of the class. Finally, the class ended, and I escaped.

I thought another text might follow that one quickly, but it didn't. I had to endure two more equally boring classes in a high fever of sexual agitation. At lunch I met with a few friends. Alex and Tucker were among them. We sat at a functional but unlovely concrete bench outside a cafeteria. Alex and I ate sandwiches while Tucker wolfed down slices of oily pizza.

"Hey, Randy," Alex asked, between bites, "How's your mom? Sure was nice of her to help at the football game the other day."

"Yeah," said Tucker, not bothering to swallow the chunks of pizza in his mouth first, "She puts on a great show. The best."

I glowered at Tucker.

"Damn, Tucker," Alex replied, "you are such an asshole! You shouldn't say that to Randy."

The implication was that it was fine for him to say things like that to Alex and Mason when I wasn't there.

"Come on," said Tucker. "We all know Randy's got the hottest mom in the universe. Randy has to know it. And his mom knows it, too. That skirt she wore --"

"Tucker!" I said. I couldn't be that mad at him after all my own impure thoughts about her, but I had to feign disapproval at least. And to tell the truth, I did disapprove somewhat. I felt a twinge of jealousy. My mom is mine, I thought. Stay the fuck away from her, Tucker, I thought.

"All right, all right," Tucker said, raising a pizza-filled hand in surrender. "We'll talk about Mason's mom instead. She's not hot at all. Will that make you guys feel better?"

"Let's leave the moms out of it," said Alex.

"Amen to that," I said.

The phone pinged. I'd turned the volume on again.

I pulled it out and turned the face of it so neither Tucker nor Alex could see it. I was quite sure I knew what was coming and there was no way I was going to share it with them.

I swiped the phone screen and opened the photo from the text message.

It was mom, again, from the waist up. She was dressed in a cream-colored blouse. She appeared to be in a conference room at work, sitting at but facing away from a large table. A good chunk of the table was visible behind her, as were six co-workers sitting around it. I was puzzled. She looked very pretty, of course, but there was nothing sexy about the picture.

Then another ping came. I pulled up the photo from the new email.

Holy shit, I thought.

This photo was taken at the same place, presumably a moment later, mom still turned away from the table. But this photo only showed mom from the waist down. Her knees, parted, were on the sides of the photo, and smack dab in the middle of the photo, framed by her thighs and strikingly short skirt, was her pussy, uncovered by panties. On the fringes of the photo I could make out the legs of other people sitting at the table around her.

I couldn't believe the risks mom was taking. I had no idea how she could pull it off. However she did it, it had its effect. I was amazed and aroused.

"New girlfriend sexting you?" Tucker asked.

I looked away from the phone to my friends, and I realized my mouth was hanging open.

"No, no," I stammered. "It's . . . it's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing," Tucker said. "But whatever. You don't have a new girlfriend, do you? You'd tell us, wouldn't you?"

"No, I don't," I said, "and yes, I would. No girlfriend."

I snuck another glance at the photo and put my phone away. It was going to get tricky to conceal my relationship with mom if she kept doing shit like this.

We finished lunch and got up to leave for our next classes. Alex and Tucker wished me happy birthday before we parted.

Mom didn't send any new photos while I sat through my last class of the day, horny and distracted. When class was over I got in my car and drove straight to work.

The store was full of eager customers, who kept me busy and focused away from thoughts of my hot, exhibitionist mom. I had to keep my phone in my pocket. It was a violation of company policy to spend personal time on your phone during work hours.

An hour into my shift, I was talking to a couple about television options when I felt the familiar buzz in my pocket. I wanted to pull the phone out and look at the message, but I had to tend to my customers first. Time dragged as they asked me question after question and vacillated about which TV to choose. Finally, they made their decision. They bought the TV and left. I'd made another customer happy.

I took a bathroom break, almost desperate to see the photo mom had sent me. I threaded my way through aisles of electronics to get to the other side of the store. Once I was in the bathroom I shut myself in a stall. I pulled out the phone and looked at the photo.

I thought by now I couldn't be surprised, but the new photo didn't just surprise me, it staggered me.

The photo showed mom in her private office on the fourth floor, on top of her desk. She was on her knees, with her fingertips pressed against the desk to the side of her, and her chest pushed out. She stared into the phone camera. She was completely naked. Even more amazing was the suction cup dildo fastened to the desk under her and pushed two thirds of the way up inside her. Behind her I saw part of the door to her office. It was closed. Thank goodness for that.

I knew mom had some privacy in her office, but I didn't know if there was a lock on the door or how often people stopped by. For her to have taken off all her clothes, set up the phone camera, and posed for the photo, would have been time consuming and incredibly risky.

I had to respond to this one. I sent a text message back: :o

It was all I could think to write.

My head was swimming and my cock was harder than ever. It was nearly impossible to stop thinking about mom. But, unfortunately, I had to get back to work, for a while longer.

The hours crawled by, and I checked the time with increasing frequency and urgency. At last, my shift ended. I bolted out of the store, my feet unsteady and out of control in my need to get home.

The sun had set and the sky to the west was a mash of rose and purple. I jumped into my car and sped home. My hands gripped the steering wheel with manic intensity. I was going home, to my mom, to my birthday celebration, and to . . . something. I didn't know what, for sure. But mom had said I would like it.

Interminable minutes later I pulled my car into the driveway. I vaulted out of the car and over the walkway to the front door. The amber glow of the porchlight illuminated a note tacked to the door. The word "Randy" appeared on it in large flowing letters. I opened it and read the short message.

"Come inside, the door is open. Put all your things down in the entryway inside the door, walk to the living room, and sit down in the wooden chair. And wait."

I pulled the door open, my breath nearly choked off with anticipation.

Inside the house, the lights were off. But candles burned everywhere, illuminating the house with a low, flickering glow. Following mom's instructions, I put by backpack down, and I took my phone and wallet and keys and put them on top of the backpack. Mom was nowhere to be seen. The house was perfectly quiet. A big hand-painted paper sign said "Happy Birthday Randy" in neat letters against the entry way wall.

Not knowing where mom was or what else to do, I followed her instructions and walked into the living room. It also was lit up by candles everywhere, but beyond the reach of candlelight it was dark. Chairs and tables had been pushed to the side to clear a large space on the wood floor in the middle of the room. And at one side sat a heavy armless wooden chair, facing into the room.

This is strange, I thought. But I stuck to mom's script and I sat in the chair. I scanned the room and perked up my ears for any sign of mom. I heard nothing for a full minute.

The heavy strum of power chords from an electric guitar suddenly filled the room, and I jumped in the chair seat. The sound enveloped me. It came from several speakers that mom must have set around the room. I hadn't noticed them before in the gloom, but I noticed them now. I recognized the song, too: "Mother", by Danzig. I smiled to myself. Mom had a sense of humor.

And then I saw her. Gliding into the room seemingly out of nowhere, stepping from a dark room corner into the middle of the floor, in front of me. My jaw dropped open and my cock hardened.

You haven't lived until you've seen your mom not only dressed like a stripper but looking every bit the part.

Mom looked the part. Her feet were perched perilously high on clear, plastic platform stripper heels, spread on the floor shoulder-length apart. From the floor my eyes moved up the length of her endlessly long, supple legs to the place where her thighs disappeared under form-fitting, shiny baby-blue shorts, the side seam of which could not have been more than three inches. The front of the shorts veed down to a point that stopped no more than an inch above her sex, if that. Above and beyond the waistband of the tiny shorts mom's long, lightly muscled torso extended up to the bottom of a snug white crop top, which was emblazoned with the words "Hot" and "Mom" in black letters over each jutting breast. Mom had teased or permed her hair somehow so that it had puffed and swelled into a thick, voluptuous, dirty blond mane. Her hair cascaded wildly over her bare shoulders. She looked like a hot babe from a 1980s music video. But hotter.

She didn't look like a housewife play-acting as a stripper. She looked like a real stripper.

And she moved like one.

After the slow-building introduction, the song burst into a faster rhythm, hard and furious and intense. Mom's body moved with it. Her hips rocked to the song's beat, and her hands moved to its words. Mom's body rocked and swayed in a feral fugue with the song's deep bass line.

For the first time, I realized my mom could really dance. It wasn't an easy song to dance to, either, but mom did it. She stood no more than ten feet from me, hips swaying, and arms raised over her head. At first, she danced facing me, breasts pushed out and hips pushed back. Her loose, blond hair sprayed in every direction as she moved. In a single beat she turned around, and her ass was almost in my face, rocking and twirling to the music.

Mom dropped to the ground, up on her fingertips and on the toes of her high heels. She started twerking at me, her ass pumping up and slashing one way and then another in sync with the music. It was all I could do to make myself stay in the chair and not jump forward and grab her.

While still on the floor mom sat up, facing away from me, and quickly swept the crop top off her. She wore a tiny bra top underneath. She spun around so I could see it. The fabric was shiny and thin, and the hard points of mom's nipples showed under it. The bra was for show only; it provided no support, and as mom moved to the music her tits jiggled uncontrollably.

Mom's ass hit the floor and lifted off it, and in another quick sweep her little shorts came off, lifted up and along her legs and over the stripper heels until they flew away from her body in a steep arc. Now mom wore only a tiny G-string and bra.

As I watched her I marveled at her skill. She's done this before, I thought. I didn't know when or where, but I knew she'd done this before. There were things about my mom I didn't know, but she was giving me glimpses of her past. I wanted to know it all.

The song reached its fast furious crescendo, and its final chord barely finished before the next song started: another Danzig song -- "She Rides." The frenzy of the first song gave way to the slow, steady, seductive beat of the second.

Mom's body adjusted. It slowed and settled into a sexy and slinky rhythm. She stood and danced closer to me, keeping her eyes on mine. She drew near me. I could barely contain myself on the chair, but I did. It was mom's show and I didn't want to interrupt it. Just before her knees touched mine she turned around, and she put her thong-clad bottom in my lap. Mom gave me a lap dance, the best imaginable. Her pert ass touched down right where my cock lay under my pants, and she twirled it lightly over me. I pushed up, so she could feel my hardness.

I had reached such a lofty peak of excitement that I knew I'd come in my pants if mom kept going, but she seemed to know that, and before I came her ass lifted off me. She rocked and swayed forward until she was a few feet away, and then she turned around.

Hands went to a clasp between her breasts, and a second later her bra snapped open and the cups sprang free and my beautiful mom's exquisitely beautiful breasts popped out free and boundless and unfettered, offering themselves unimpeded to my hungry eyes. Mom leaned forward, bringing her full, swinging breasts closer to me. I reached a hand out to grab one, but she pulled away. She wagged a finger at me as though to say, "Bad boy."

I stared at mom in a state of rapture and disbelief. By now, I'd seen every inch of my mom's naked, hot body. I'd poked it and probed it and pierced it with my eyes, my hands, my tongue. Her nude body had no more mysteries to offer me. But still it was miraculous, a thing of wonder and transcendent beauty, and I wanted her with every pore and cell of my body. My eyes feasted on her as she danced for me, a tiny thong the only thing holding her body back from full nudity.

She wanted to be nude for me. I could see it in her eyes and in the movement of her body. She swayed and rocked her body and squatted to the ground. Her butt swung down, to the floor, and her elbows braced her body on the ground and her knees came together, and I saw hands hook themselves around the tiny stringy sides of her G-string panties and pull up. The little panties rose off her ass and up her long legs and met the plastic stripper heels. A panty string snagged briefly against one of the heels before it sprang free, and then the G-string went flying through the air before it fell and lay in a small tangled heap on the floor.

Now mom was completely naked. And she wanted me to see her.

She held her legs together and then scissored them across each other before flinging them wide and straight, stripper heels pointing to the walls on either side of the room. Her hand went between her legs and she opened herself to me, lips pulled back and the pink depths of her pussy open and on view.

I couldn't help it. My hand grabbed my crotch. My cock was hard and straining against my pants.

Mom lifted her ass off the ground, legs still wide, pussy still open and exposed and wet. The damp and pink flesh inside mom's opened lips sparkled in the candlelight.

Mom twirled around and backed up her knees and plastic heels, so her ass was no more than a few feet from me. She held her legs and hands wide on the floor. Her ass swung wild and exposed before my face. Her body traced sinuous curves to the music in that position for over a minute.

Mom stood up and turned around. She rocked and swayed and walked toward me. Her hand went down, pressing against my cock inside my pants. It was uncomfortably hard, and it bent to the side under my pants. Mom's hands went to work, busying themselves over my belt buckle and zipper. The belt buckle came loose and soon mom's hands were pulling my pants down. They slid over my thighs and knees and bunched around my ankles, along with my boxer briefs. I was naked at the waist and my cock stood straight up in a needy salute to my hot mom.

Slender fingers moved forward and took my cock, gripping it and massaging it. Mom masturbated me, but not too fast or too hard. She didn't want me to come yet. Her hips rose, and her legs spread, and she straddled me, and before I knew what was happening my cock, harder and straighter than it had ever been, lay pressed between the lips of mom's pussy.

My hard cock pointed up, its head against mom's clitoris. The thin petals of her pussy, spread to either side, framed my cock's girth, urgently welcoming it inside her. I wasn't inside her yet, but my shaft was pushed up against the wet and raw inside of her, slicked with her fluids, and I knew we were moments away.

Mom never stopped looking me in the eye. Her hand gripped me. It guided me. She rose, and her hand pointed me, and my cockhead took her direction and in a moment it was poised at her entrance, eager and open and hungry for me.

Mom paused with her hand wrapped around my cock and I shivered with the anticipation of what was about to happen.

Mom and I pushed forward at the same time, and I entered her. It took no more than a second. Mom was in my lap and she pushed down, and I pushed up and I filled her, once and forever.

I fucked my mom. She sat on me and looked at me, with my cock deep inside her.

There is no way to capture in a word or phrase or sentence all that I felt at that moment. The head of my penis lay deep inside my mother, near her cervix. The woman who'd given birth to me now sat on my lap, joined to me cock to cunt. Whatever might happen in the future, this moment could never be undone. My mom was my lover, for good or ill, for now and for all time.

All I could think of was my need and desire for more of her cunt. I grabbed her hips and lifted her and then pulled her back down on me. Mom threw her head back and gasped, so I knew she wanted it too. I took control of the pace, lifting her and pulling her back to me fast and hard, trying each time to push myself deeper insider her.

Mom and I fucked each other. I pushed into her and she pushed down on me. We rocked and pushed and pulled against each other. I thrust deeply insider her, as deeply as I could. Mom's delicious body gave way to me, accepting each fast, needy thrust and welcoming more.

My eyes closed for a few moments to relish the sensation of our fucking, but they opened not long after to enjoy the sight of her. Mom's nude body, lit only by the uneven flicker of candle light, rose and fell before me, on my lap. Her full breasts shook, and her nipples stood out as hard, dark points in the low light. My cock filled her with singular purpose. I needed to release inside her. I needed mom to feel the splash of my cum.

It didn't take much longer. Mom was close, too -- I could tell. Her breathing grew faster and shallower and she whimpered with each of my hard, fast thrusts into her.

"Randy," mom purred, her hands on my neck and in my hair.

"Mom," I growled, my hands hard against her hips to hold her against me.

Mom and I fucked that way -- I don't know how long. Time meant nothing. It bided its time while mom and I moved furiously against each other.

And then, suddenly, I felt her entire body spasm. She cried out and shook. And I let go. All my longing and frustration and need gave way to a single moment of pure fulfilment. My cock emptied itself into my mom's pussy, spurt after spurt after spurt. My hands grabbed her hips hard to make sure she got everything I could give her. I let out a breath of relief and exaltation. At last, my cum was inside my mom, where I wanted it to be.

Mom shook and squealed while my cock emptied itself. We quaked together, and I grasped her body at her waist. Her fingers dug in to my shoulders, almost painfully.

Mom and I quivered and came down from our orgasms together, our arms clutching one another.

Minutes later -- I don't know how many -- I came down from the high of my orgasm and I became aware of the feel of my hands on my mom's body. My fingers splayed out against her bare hips. I squeezed my fingers against her skin.

"Fuck," I said. "I did it. I've got you. I seduced my mom."

Mom's eyes were glazed and unfocused from her fucking-induced stupor, but they refocused quickly at my remark and she stared at me, a playful, knowing smile on her face.

"You seduced me?" she asked. "Is that what you think? Randy, I think you need to know something."

She shifted on my lap, putting a hand to my face and caressing my cheek lightly with her fingers while her pussy remained firmly fixed to my cock.

"I've wanted you for a long time," mom said. "Six months, at least. I remember when it started. You came home after an afternoon run. You weren't wearing a shirt and you were hot and sweaty and for the first time I noticed the muscles in your chest. I was horny and frustrated after the divorce from your dad and I needed a man. Online dating didn't work so well. And then, suddenly, I noticed you. My son. You were more of a man to me than any other men I knew.

"But I felt guilty about it. I was your mom. It wasn't appropriate for me to have those . . . feelings about you. I tried to put them aside.

"But then you caught up to me that day when I was running. I saw the way you looked at me. You were turned on by looking at me. We stood on the hill together and the sun was going down and you looked at me with a look that . . . it melted me. I could see it in your eyes and in the way your body reacted. Am I right?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I'd never thought of you as hot before that. You were my mom. But since that day I haven't been able to think of anything other than how hot you are."

"I could see that," she said. "I saw the hunger in your eyes when you looked at me. And I loved it. I wanted more of it. I showed off to you that night on the sofa. Did you think that was an accident? It wasn't."

I was struck to the bone by what mom was telling me. Everything about the past few weeks between mom and me was different from what I'd thought.

"I wanted you," mom continued, "But I couldn't just come out and say it. So, I let you take charge. I felt bad as your mother wanting you, but I figured if you were the assertive one somehow it would be O.K. And you kept pushing, thank God. I saw the lust in your eyes. You wanted me, and I wanted to give myself to you. But I couldn't do it right away. I had to be sure it was right. It took me a while to figure out that it was. And here we are."

Mom stopped talking and pressed her lips against mine, and I kissed her back. She straddled my lap with my cock standing straight and deep inside her, even though I'd just come.

I thought maybe mom wanted to talk rather than fuck. I began to pull out of her, but mom grabbed my ass and stopped me from doing so. She pressed her head against mine and she spoke softly but urgently into my ear.

"Stay inside me," she said. So, even though we were both spent, we kept fucking.

"I think we crossed a boundary tonight," I said to her. Her hands still were on my ass, pressing me tightly against her, and she started rocking her hips gently against mine.

"I think we should try different boundaries," she said. "Or maybe no boundaries."

Somehow, my cock already was stiffening again, and I felt her wet cunt grip and squeeze my thickening shaft.

I stared into the bottomless depths of my mother's green eyes, shining with love and lust.

"Holy fuck, mom," I whispered. "You are so hot."

"A good mommy wants to look hot for her son," she said.

THE END.