HOW I HAD SEX WITH MY MOTHER

We'd been in lockdown for almost a month.

My mom. Me. In our house. Sans my dad.

He'd been away on business, with my older sister, and they'd gotten trapped in Phoenix. Leaving me all alone with my mom.

Which was just fine with me- given that my mom is fucking HOT!

Damn right she's hot. Even if she's 48, twice my age. But so far she's been winning the battle against Father Time. She really has kept herself in perfect shape all these years.

Mere words don't do her beauty justice. However, I will attempt to paint a picture, an outline, to portray an idea of this goddess, this striking woman, who I believe to be the most gorgeous female ever...

My mother has clear, creamy alabaster skin, and curly, shoulder-length blond hair framing her oval face, and big bulging bright blue eyes that are simply ravishing and accented exquisitely by her various violet and blue eyeshadows, generous dabs of mascara. She's one of those ladies who puts on makeup, even around the house, even wearing lipsticks and lip glosses too.

And those lips... I love her lustrous lips. Just, wow. Her full, pouty, strawberry lips, lips that simply shine and sparkle like sunshine shimmering on diamonds.

I've lost count of how many times I've fantasized about kissing her, what it'd be like to touch my lips to hers. How I'd caress her hourglass body as our tongues met...

Speaking of her form, her figure is practically flawless. She's got the most succulent, shapely body, with her taut tummy, and tight C-cup tits that lift, upturn and bounce and twitch in all the right ways. And her legs, oh, her toned legs. She's got these statuesque legs that go on for miles and lead happily up to her best feature. Her ass.

I could go on forever about her ass. Its perfect spherical shape. Its perfect size. The way it fills out any pair of pants or dress she wears. There isn't an artist in the world able to paint a more picturesque posterior.

In addition to her looks, I appreciate her personality too, how she's easygoing, laughs in girly, staccato bursts, covers her mouth with her hand sometimes as she giggles. It seems like she's always smiling, and honestly, I'd posit that she possesses the prettiest smile in the world. Really, I've never seen a smile quite like it. It's a wry, tight-lipped smile, the curve of which warms my soul.

Like I said, she is hot. HOT.

Fucking hot.

And she knows it too. She knows how hot she is. After college, she'd worked as an actress/model and was featured in an advertisement for my dad's law firm, which is how my parents met...

Unlike some homemakers, she's never "let herself go" and has worked to maintain her looks with her rigid diet and daily trips to the gym, yoga.

Thank goodness for that yoga, too. Because of that, she's taken in recent years to wearing, nearly every day, what's also the best fashion trend in recent years, yoga pants.

Fuck, those yoga pants she wears. How they hug her hips, gloriously display every inch of her heavenly ass's contours. The way her curvy apple cheeks shift, wiggle and jiggle in those pants as she prances around the house. It's magical.

So, when the lockdown started, and I was forced to be alone with her, for who knows how long, I can't say I was too bothered. I've been sweet on her for ages, I gotta say.

Call it gross if you want. I don't care. I want to have sex with my mom. There, I said it. And I mean it. She's hot. Why should I not want to have sex with her? Just because I popped out of her pussy? All the more reason to want to be back in there. And it's not just that she's hot, it's the taboo nature of it, how I'm not "supposed" to think about banging her, which makes it so fun and erotic to contemplate.

I've been thinking of nailing her since I can remember. I've been examining her body, especially her ass, for years. And these last couple years, since she started wearing those yoga pants, my imagination has been in overdrive, and I've been fisting my cock nearly every day, to the thought of sticking my dick, up inside her lovely creases, exploring her forbidden folds...

Okay, so you might think I'm a beta-male, just a mousy, socially stunted fuck. Maybe that I can't get pussy too easily. But that's not the case. I'm not a virgin. I've had a few girlfriends. I've gotten laid. But, seriously, to put it bluntly, no girl I've dated, and no girl I've ever even laid eyes upon, has come close to being as hot as my mom.

Of course, too, these days, dating isn't really possible, with the lockdown. I'd been chatting online with a chick from another part of town, but that's going nowhere fast, with the plague and all. And really, it's been hard, ever since I graduated college, trying to meet chicks, since I'm living at home, working for my dad's company.

Not that it's a hardship post or anything, working for my dad. My dad, the wily old cagey fuck, is cool as hell. He's a hotshot corporate lawyer who started his own law firm, bagged a bunch of high-flying clients, started bringing in Brinks trucks, fucking boatloads of cash about a decade ago.

After I graduated college, he hired me on as an IT specialist. Not that I'm unqualified, either. Computer stuff is what I do best. I'd been helping run the company's website for a while anyway, to pitch in and do my part, and once I was ready to enter the workforce, Pops wanted to have me on his team, help the firm deal with computer, network issues at the office.

Yeah, yeah, I mean, look, I was apprehensive about working for Pops, not fond of being hired due to nepotism, but he made me an offer that was "too good to refuse." More zeros than I'd see at any other company. So I took it. And, partially to save money for a down payment on a place of my own, I stayed living at home.

We've got a mansion, so it's not like we haven't got the space.

I'll admit, though, partially I've stayed at home so I can be with my mom. If anything just to bask in her beautiful presence. I figured she could use some company too. Especially since, nowadays, my dad and my older sister are always away on business trips.

Those two, my pops and sis, they have definitely been with each other a lot, and seem to be getting closer. A lot closer.

Perhaps, I suspect, too close.

Like I said, I'm not a beta, and I'm not a stereotypical scrawny gamer or a chubby computer guy. But I do love computers, coding, gaming, and tech, so it was natural for me to gravitate toward computer science as my major. Unlike some of my fellow IT folks, gamers, and techies, I keep fit. I lift weights and had joined an MMA gym, before the plague hit, and had been learning Jiu-Jitsu. Not that I'm the biggest, meanest dude, or anything, at 5'10, 175 pounds, but I'm cut, keep healthy, eat clean, and have been told, seriously, that I sort of resemble a young Leonardo DiCaprio.

Given that, I probably should be more outgoing, active in dating, but it's not my nature. I'll go out some, but I'm more into staying home, gaming, watching movies, and reading. I'm just sort of quiet, an introvert. It's my nature, I suppose, and I'm cool with that...

Returning to my sister, she's definitely not like me. At all. She takes more after my dad, is extremely aggressive, outspoken, and she followed his footsteps, into law, and joined his firm after passing the bar.

She'd quickly proven her mettle, too, in the courtroom, with her attacking style and sharp counterpoints. Her perspicacity, punctiliousness, and her assiduous attack on law books and her encyclopedic knowledge of law hushed any talk of nepotism with her, and she enjoys the full respect of everyone at the firm. Including me.

But, given her looks, like a younger version of my mom, same slender body, long blond curly hair, the same hip-swaying walk (though an ass slightly smaller and not as perfect as my mom's, in my opinion) it's just that, you know, given the amount of time she spends with my dad, I'd become suspicious of the two.

The two, over the last couple years, since she joined the firm, have become joined at the hip. They collaborate on every case he takes on. They travel together incessantly, always under the guise of "business." But I suspect otherwise. It's the way they sit together, like their bodies' distance is just slightly too close. How they smile at each other. How she's never had a boyfriend since she joined the firm.

Being a nosy fuck, and, of course, having access to all the firm's financials, I checked up on their recent business trips, and found that the two have been sharing hotel rooms on every business trip they've taken over the last year and a half!

They'd been dining together as well. I saw several bills from fancy restaurants. Not casual places to have a work meal. Nope. These were some swanky spots. Places you'd only really take a date.

I mean, I guess it could be all work-related. Dad likes to splash cash.

Once his firm started raking in millions, he got us a six-bedroom, seven-bathroom, 12,000 square-foot Tuscan-style mansion. The interior featuring a grand entranceway, sky-high ceilings, a sprawling Olympic pool out back, and dazzling views of a nearby river. The place sits on a 15-acre lot, too, which certainly helps with the social distancing...

Pops bought a series of Porsches for himself and Benzes, for Mom, me, and a Tesla for Sis, but I guess with his cash, he could have gotten an even bigger house and Ferraris or Lamborghinis, maybe a Bentley and a Rolls Royce or two...

So, looking over the expense reports, I wondered. Were Pops and Sis being frugal? Sharing hotel rooms? And were they only eating at swanky places because they could?

I don't know. And I guess I don't care. If they are fucking, hell, good for Pops. My sister is a fox. Pops and Mom have been distant, already complying with COVID restrictions, for years anyway. He's still in good shape, and he's rich, so I think that he must be getting action on the side from somewhere, very possibly my sexy sister. And, again, if he is, good for him.

But Mom, though, I can't imagine she's having any affairs. The only places she goes are to the spa, gym, and fellow housewives' houses. Somehow I don't see her doing anything illicit.

The more I thought about it, my dad off popping Viagra, fucking his own daughter, my sister, in their fancy hotel suite, the more I started to feel sorry for my mom. She was too hot to be by herself! She deserved to have her own affair. And I was thinking about the perfect person for her to have an affair with.

Me.

It's not like she doesn't know I like her. Like that.

She notices me looking. My eyes always tracking her ass like a hunting dog chasing a rabbit. And I think she enjoys it, too, the attention. Put away that I'm her son, she's got a young dude, half her age, cruising her, every day. That has to be flattering.

I've never been too subtle about staring, either, a tad too long. She'll blush a little, look away, coyly, but she's never told me to stop.

Maybe that's a good sign.

And now that I'd be locked down with her, I started to think of making a move. Trying to have sex with her. Like, really, have sex with her.

But how?

Look, unfortunately, I'm not even good at hitting on chicks my own age. Like I said, I'm not a virgin, but every girl I've been with I met online or through a friend. I'm terrible at courtship. I've never been into the whole "game" and chasing women thing. I mean, I'll do it. I'll spit game. I'll try. I'm not afraid. But normally if I'm not getting anywhere, quickly, I throw in the towel and go rub one out.

But being alone too much, suffering cabin fever, and watching my mom's ass in those yoga pants, every damn day, for a fucking month, the pressure was building. And I had to do something about it.

Perhaps...

Perhaps I just throw out some feelers, some hints, what the hell? Worst she says is no...

Recently I've been feeling different too. It's probably the meds. You see, I've long had issues with depression, anxiety, insomnia. It's hard to describe exactly what brings on the blues. Often, it's nothing at all. Just suddenly, an ugly feeling crashes over me, like a tidal wave of sadness. I feel a negativity, a pull, a weight, like an anchor dropping into a deep dark sea.

With the pandemic, it'd gotten worse, and so I decided to finally talk to a doctor about it, and he prescribed me Zoloft.

I was reticent to take it, at first, thinking I could tough the blues out, let them pass, as I've always done, but seeing such horrific images on the news, reading daily death tolls, and the overall vibe, mood, the feeling of impending doom, it was getting too much, and so I figured I should give the pills a shot.

And shit am I glad I did! Whereas others have had negative side effects, I did not. The Zoloft immediately went to work, and I had an instant bump up in my mood, and within a couple of weeks, my depression was significantly lessened, to the point that I didn't really notice it. Like before my depression was a vampire biting and sucking at my neck, but now it's more like a painting on the wall, there but merely an inanimate object, an idea, a thing in the background. It's no longer a harmful, blood-sucking monster.

I'd also begun feeling less fearful since taking the Zoloft. Like before, I'd have inhibitions, I'd question myself, but after starting the Zoloft, that fear dissipated. Before I might have never considered making a move on my mom, I'd only jerk off thinking about doing so, but now, I was ready to try, for real, to be with her, sexually, romantically, and I was not afraid to try.

Best of all, too, the Zoloft hadn't caused me any sexual dysfunctions. I'd read about some getting ED from it, but not me. In fact, it prolonged my jerk off sessions. Not unbearably so, either, like others, who've said it makes it so they can't cum. Instead, for me, it just allowed me to go for five or so extra minutes, which is cool, since I enjoy jerking off, and is doubly cool in that I can imagine the extra power it'll allow me in the sack.

My confidence had been rising ever since I started the Zoloft. Along with my ever-increasing volume of thoughts about my mom. Watching her ass in those yoga pants every day, like I said, it was getting to me.

Being locked down, too, it was getting to me.

And not having gotten laid in ages, it was getting to me.

And, as you can probably guess, it was getting time to do something about all that.

I'd been more brazenly perving on my mom since the thought of really trying to have sex with her popped into my mind. It'd been seeming to me that she likes the attention, too, which might mean the interest was mutual, so, one windy night, while looking at MILF porn and reading incest stories online, I made up my mind, and I decided to see how far I could take things. To see if maybe I really could have sex with her!

The next morning, I woke up early, trekked down the white marble steps of the double staircase, and made my way to the kitchen. After preparing breakfast, I sat at the kitchen table, sipping strong coffee, staring out the windows, watching the spongy morning sky.

It'd already started to drizzle, and the plum-colored clouds were fat with impending rains. A pelican glided by, outstretching its wings, hovering for a moment before landing on the ridge next to the river. Choppy, blue-green tides were rolling in over the rocky river shore. Then a fine mist of condensation began to collect over the kitchen windows.

These sorts of overcast days, when the whole sky was gray as a prison wall, these sorts of days would affect my mood, sometimes, drag me down, but when my mom entered the room, it was like the gloomy clouds had parted, and all I could see was sunshine...

My mom arrived at the usual time, 8:15 a.m. She wore a skimpy red tank top that flaunted her toned midriff, and her hair was tied into a tangly bun.

As she walked her usual hip-swaying walk, in through the kitchen's arched doorway, I was elated to lower my gaze and witness her wearing a pair of scorching hot yoga pants. That morning it was the coal black, high-waisted pair of yoga pants. Those are my favorite, I think, because of how they curve, blend, and hug her ass into a juicy, perfect heart shape.

In the past, I'd been stealing glances, but never had the guts to say anything to my mom about her looks. The words just hanging on my tongue or stuck to the roof of my mouth. But that wasn't going to happen anymore.

I mean, why not? Why not send a compliment her way? Aside from it not being a normal thing for a son to compliment his mother on, it is well... polite, kind of, right? Why not let her know someone appreciates her incredible figure...

And so I did.

"Morning, Mom..."

"Morning, honey," smiled my mom, slinking into the kitchen and raising the temperature in the room by 10 or so degrees, due simply to her stunning presence.

She sauntered by me, as I was seated at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and chomping on my Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and I paused between bites and drank in the heavenly sight of her ass shifting and jiggling in those super-tight pants.

"Whoever invented yoga pants should win a Nobel Prize..." I blurted out, the words just spilling from my lips. That wasn't the compliment I meant to give.

"What?" my mom quizzed, her eyebrows raising and her voice rising an octave on the syllable, and when she turned to meet my gaze, a nervous smile stretched over her face.

My inner-bitch told me to walk it back. Make up a lie. Deflect. Run.

But no. I wasn't going to be that guy anymore.

I doubled down.

"Mom, you are gorgeous. Your figure is perfect. I love how you look in those pants, how they accent your curves," I told her, my eyes sweeping up and down her body.

Mom blushed. Then shook her head, shifted her gaze away and replied that I "should stop," because "I was only being nice."

"I'm old," grumbled Mom, hanging her head and turning toward the sink, staring glumly at the morning rain that'd picked up and begun to lash at the window.

Probably in her mind, she'd turned away in embarrassment, sadness, upset because she didn't feel beautiful, but that thousand-watt supermodel smile she'd flashed me, mere seconds ago, followed by that immaculate ass... When she turned her back... Just... Wow... Her ass looked so perfect. So round. So firm. So well-proportioned. I could even make out the edges and pattern of her slip panties underneath the tight grip of the fabric.

"No way," I assured her, lifting to my feet, and sauntering over to her, "You look perfect, practically flawless, front and back."

Walking her way, I felt strong, like a predator after prey. She swung her gaze from the window to me and saw me moving toward her, my eyes firmly locked on her ass.

Blushing, red as a tomato, she replied, "What has gotten into you this morning?" before she quickly and furtively looked away, padded over toward the coffeemaker, pressing her finger at its touchscreen.

Standing in front of the coffeemaker, she waited for her coffee to brew. The machine was whirring, steaming, and juddering, filling the kitchen with its intoxicating aroma.

I impulsively decided to take things to another level. I wanted to see how far I could push the envelope...

The coffeemaker is in an alcove in the kitchen and Mom was standing directly in front of it. Creeping closer toward her, I thought she might move, step away, like a matador, or maybe look back at me scornfully, but she did none of those things. She stood firmly rooted, didn't budge. Didn't speak. Just stood silent, watching the coffee maker hum.

I kept approaching, until I was directly behind her behind. Oh, it was incredible, standing mere inches from her. Her amazing ass just inches from the gathering steam of my stiffening dick. Her smell of flowery shampoo wafting, delightfully, up my nostrils, and I felt like a character, in an old cartoon, enraptured, floating up through the air, up toward a hot apple pie sitting out on a windowsill.Except my mom's ass looked far more delicious than any dessert...

"Hey, I forgot to get creamer," I lied, stepping even closer, our bodies touching, and I purposely pressed my cock to her ass. Then I dry-humped into her ass, with a gentle thrust, and my dick hardened to a full erection. I was only in a white t-shirt and black silk boxers and could easily spot the tent I was pitching.

"Oh..." she cooed, not stopping me, so I continued.

Mmmmmmm... I smelled in more of her sweet scent, and then placed my hands on her hips and slid my hands back, cupped the outer edges of her ass. My God, it was somehow soft as a feather yet firm.

The heat of her ass tickled at my dick and I rested my head on her shoulder, kissed her cheek. Then I began to slowly dry-fuck my dick at her ass, and the friction caused her to moan, press her eyes shut.

Okay, it was on now, I thought. I couldn't believe she was letting me dry-fuck her. God, her ass was incredible on my dick, like two soft pillows.

I kissed the nape of her neck, which made her moan again, but when I went to kiss her lips, we made eye contact and her bright blue eyes bulged big as boulders.

I reckon the reality of the moment sunk in, her son, with his dick stuffed in her butt, going in for a French kiss, and she recoiled, slunk away from me, and said, nervously, "It's, ummmmmm, time for yoga..." and hurried out of the room.

Of course I watched her ass, rippling like two bowls of jello, as she scurried off, blushing.

My dick was throbbing hard. I was thinking of chasing after her. Seeing if I could have wild sex with her on the kitchen table or in the hallway. I'd have given anything in that moment to feel the heat of her ass again on my hard dick, to drink in her scent once more.

But I decided to bide my time. No use in rushing. No use in pushing things. I'm a pervert, sure, but I'm into consensual fun, so I figured I'd go methodically, until the time was right. Since she already let me play with her ass some, I took it as a sign of more to come, and cum I would!

At that juncture, though, I was standing in the kitchen, with a severe case of the blue balls.

Something had to be done about that.

My mom's scent, her pheromones, were still floating in the air, mixed in with the scent of the coffee, and it was an aroma most glorious and inviting. And all I could think of was how much I wanted to yank down those yoga pants, penetrate my mom's sizzling hot pussy.

Vivid images ran wild in my mind, and I started pondering what her pussy looked like, if she shaved, if her outer pussy lips were puffy or thin... Truth is that no two pussies look alike. The one I popped out of was no exception.

My mom's pussy, how fucking warm it must be... How I longed to fuck into it, take her right there in the kitchen... My dick was getting so hard I thought it might burst like a stick of dynamite.

Usually, at times like these, when my mom's body is occupying my mind, I dart off into the bathroom or back to my bedroom, lock the door, pop open a bottle of moisturizer or break out the fleshlight and get to work, close my eyes, let my perversions run amok.

But, peering around the empty kitchen, it dawned on me that my mom and I were the only people here. My dad and sister were probably off fucking in their fancy hotel room, maybe in the hot tub, her bobbing up and down on his dick. Certainly no visitors would be stopping by, with the plague and all. So, fuck, why not, I figured, and I wrenched down my sweatpants and boxers and let my stiff cock fly free in the air.

I walked like a penguin, my pants pooled around my feet, and ripped out a paper towel and then grabbed a bottle of olive oil from the counter. I sniffed in again, letting the lingering ambient aroma tickle my senses. Screwing open the olive oil, I shook out a small pale green puddle of it into my right palm, clutched the wad of paper towels in my other hand.

Then I closed my eyes, let my greasy hole of a hand slip over my dick and pumped my cock to the thought of fucking my mother from behind, right there in the kitchen.

Often, when I jerk off, it lasts 5 to 10 minutes, sometimes more or less, but I was so worked up that that blissful feeling, that force of nature, that sudden hug of God struck me quick as lightning, and after only a couple minutes, maybe, I unleashed a toe-curling, massive blast of jizz into the wad of paper towel.

After coming, I felt a sense of relief, a burden lifted. However, when I shifted my weight, turned to chuck the cumrag into the trash can, I lifted my eyes to spot none other than my mother standing in the kitchen doorway's threshold, staring at me like she'd seen a UFO!

Her bulging eyes were firmly affixed to my dick, and it was still standing proud, with how worked-up I was...

Mom then smiled at me, possibly impressed by my size. No, I don't have a porn dick, but I do have a nice-sized, 6-incher, not too shabby in terms of girth, either, and I was still somewhat hard.

Now, I've read many incest stories online where the mother instantly rips off her clothes upon seeing her son jerking off and then has crazy porn sex with him. I was hoping that would be the case here, her turning, suddenly, into Ashley Fires, a sex-crazed MILF, and her jumping on me that minute, or forcing my face into her muff.

But that's not how it happened. Unfortunately. She blushed and muttered something about, "I forgot my drink," and shifted her gaze away from my dick, stepped quickly over to the coffeemaker to snag the espresso that she'd neglected to take to yoga.

Thinking it was going to be Round 2, I went to go at least try to kiss her, maybe more, but as I penguin-walked over, I stumbled and fell to the floor, landing, thankfully, on my side, and not on my member, which had begun to resuscitate its hardness, thanks to my mom's presence and the sheer force of her gorgeous blue eyes grazing over my cock...

It wasn't a hard fall, and I'm in decent shape, so I wasn't hurt. Given the ridiculousness of the moment, lying on the kitchen floor with my dick hanging out, in front of my mom, I couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Surprisingly, my mom joined in. Laughing with me or at me, maybe both, and the weirdness of the moment dissipated, to a degree. She'd probably have helped me up. However, seeing as that I wasn't hurt and that my dick was still hanging out, she stood firmly rooted next to the coffeemaker, giggling and cupping a palm over her mouth as she chuckled.

"What has gotten into you today?" my mom shouted, between heaving laughs.

I was thinking of coming clean at that point, but lying on the kitchen floor, half-naked, after just jerking off, maybe wasn't the best time to confess my intentions or feelings, not that they were much of a secret at this juncture.

Mom lifted her little coffee cup and turned to leave. Before she crossed into the hall she yelled out, "You reeeeealy need a girlfriend."

"I want YOU to be my girlfriend, mom," I shot back and heard her snicker as she bolted off.

No going back. Inadvertently, advertently, too, I had expressed my feelings. She knew how I felt. She'd let me dry-hump her ass and kiss her neck. Briefly, yes. But it happened. There was only one thing to do now. Plot my next move, keep pushing until I'm pushing my cock into my mom's sweet pussy.

Still naked, on the floor, I started to sit up, but then rested back down. I lay on the white tile floor and rested, gazed out the misty window. What the fuck, I supposed, I might as well rest for a little bit, gather my strength, I'll need it for later...

I didn't see my mom that afternoon. She did yoga, I guess, then ate lunch before me and spent the day in her bedroom. I wondered how much she was thinking of what happened before. If she was fingering herself or fucking herself with a dildo to the thought of fucking me. I wondered if she even owned a dildo.

I couldn't imagine she was getting much action from my dad, since he's never home and is constantly preoccupied with work. And my sister.

Recently, we'd been eating dinner together, but I wasn't sure if she'd show tonight, with what happened that morning, so I texted her to see if she wanted to join me. I got sort of sassy too with my text, asking her if she'd like to have a "date" tonight for dinner. I was still curious to see how far I could keep pushing things.

"Sure, C U at 8, in the kitchen, I'll make pasta," she texted back, with a smiley emoji, sticking out its tongue.

I texted back with a heart. Then texted her again, told her to wear yoga pants.

"Haha," she replied, with another tongue sticking out emoji. I had the urge to send another text, even flirtier, to see if I could sext with her. But again, I didn't feel the need to press her, scare her off. Slowly, slowly. Slow and steady wins the race.

I figured I'd see what she was wearing at dinner. If she was wearing yoga pants like I requested, we might be having sex tonight.

Watching the clock, waiting for 8 p.m. to arrive, felt like a million years. Time staggering in slow-motion. I started pacing around my room as if I were a fighter before a title match. I was splitting hairs until I remembered that I had a stack of work to do, so I buried myself in it for the rest of the day, did my damnedest to keep my mind off my mom's ass, what she might or might not be wearing that evening.

Then I showered, slipped into a freshly washed turquoise polo shirt and baggy black cotton sweats. When the clock finally struck 8, I practically ran from my bedroom to the kitchen. I was feeling like a kid rushing downstairs on Christmas morning. But instead of rushing in to see what gift Santa, or my parents, had bought me, my gift WAS one of my parents, my mom, and she'd hopefully be getting unwrapped soon!

Crossing through the threshold, into the kitchen, I was greeted by the most wonderful sight I could ever have seen. My mom. In her yoga pants. Another high-waisted black pair...

Oh yeah, this was getting good...

"Hey beautiful," I said, walking in, with a confident stride.

Mom chortled, "You are out of control today," she said, smiling curtly, and making eye contact with me for a mere millisecond, before nervously shifting her gaze and returning to laying out steaming plates of food on the table.

She'd obviously showered again, recently, too, as I could clearly smell the delicious aroma of her shampoo mixed in with the scent of caramelized onions, coming from the stovetop.

"Glad to see you wore those yoga pants. I think that's my favorite style, the high-waisted one. I love the way they accentuate your curves," I proclaimed, sauntering, in a straight path, right toward her.

Mom kept her gaze fixed to the stove, where she was ladling veggies from a pot, into a serving bowl.

I really was feeling no fear at all. Before there'd be no way I'd have done what I was about to do. But at that moment, there was simply no way that I wouldn't do it...

I approached my mom, from behind, and wrapped my arms around her stomach, pressed myself to her body, again, and again felt the ecstasy of her hot firm ass pressed to my crotch as I hugged her, pulled her into my arms. Then I hung my head on her shoulder, kissed the nape of her neck again. She giggled, looked at me, from the corner of her eye, and shyly shifted her head away from me.

"Not now," she whispered, wiggling away from me, smiling nervously.

"Later then," I replied, letting her slink away, but not before cupping and feeling up her ass, patting it lightly. My GOD how firm and shapely her ass was...

Mom didn't reply, only giggled, and didn't respond or stop me from touching her ass. Things were certainly moving in the direction I wanted.

I stepped over to the liquor cabinet, broke out a bottle of red wine, Château Lafite Rothschild, as well as a fresh bottle of Black Label whiskey.

Another awesome thing about Zoloft for me has been that it intensifies the effects of alcohol, and I was looking forward to catching a nice buzz, and hopefully loosening up any inhibitions my mom might have.

I poured a couple tall glasses of wine to start us off, and we sat down to the kitchen table. Given how much I'd been hitting on her, it was sort of hard to have a normal conversation, at least now, so I figured we should start by addressing the elephant in the room.

I wasted no time. "I really am happy to see you wearing those yoga pants. You've been looking especially hot in those recently."

The openness of the remark seemed to relax her, taking off some of the edge of this... unusual... situation.

"Recently? Really?" Mom replied, in a low voice, keeping her gaze on her plate as she stirred some green beans, speared a pair with her fork, and slowly bit into them. The image of a phallic object entering her mouth made me tingle and tense up in excitement.

"Really. You are hot. Like seriously hot... Beautiful..." I asserted, feeling like a 100-pound weight was being lifted off my back, as I confessed my inner-most, carnal, forbidden thoughts and desires.

Mom looked up, made eye contact with me, and spoke in a trembling voice, "At first, I thought you were joking or being nice. But now, I don't know what to think, or what to say. It's flattering, for sure. It's just that... It's been a while since any man has... And, of course, you are my..." Not being able to bring herself to say the word, she continued, "And, of course, you are a very handsome young man..."

An idea sprang into my head. A way to accelerate things.

"We're going to spend the next couple of weeks alone together. So let's have fun. Let's not be alone. Here we are, man and woman, alone in this big house. I propose a fake marriage."

Mom arched her eyebrows and giggled. "A fake marriage?"

"Yes, you, pretend to be my wife, and I pretend to be your husband. We're married for these couple weeks."

Mom giggled harder, twisted her pouty lips into the sexiest smile ever, and asked, in a breathy voice, "And what does this fake marriage entail? What do we do?"

Fuck, her voice like that... And her sly smile... She was such a fox!

Mesmerized by her beauty for a minute, I struggled to muster a response, then went on, "Anything, everything a normal married couple would..."

"Anything?" she asked, her brows lifting even further as she locked eyes with me.

"Anything and everything."

She giggled again, said in hushed tones, "I can't believe we're talking about this..." Then she shyly shifted her gaze down to her wineglass, which she was fidgeting with, slowly shaking in circular motions.

"When was the last time you were with someone?" I asked. Then I slugged down a healthy sip of wine, and the sweet potion surged through my veins, in a comforting, powerful rush.

"It was... a long time ago..."

"How long?"

She hesitated for a second, still not making eye contact, then only replied, "6..."

"6, um, weeks?"

She shook her head.

"6 months?"

She shook her head again.

"6... YEARS!?" My eyes bulged as I spoke. My word! It was unfathomable a woman like her, a woman this beautiful, not having sex in 6 years! My dad really must be banging my sister, and an IG model sidepiece or something too... Fuck...

Mom bit her lower lip, bobbed her head twice, craned her neck and sighed, staring ruefully at the clock on the wall. The symbolic irony wasn't lost on me.

"Was it, uh, with your husband?" I asked. I didn't want to call him my dad and increase the uneasiness of the moment any further.

Mom's eyes blazed and widened and she smiled and swung her gaze back to mine, answered emphatically, nearly screaming, "Yes! It was. I have never cheated!"

A goofy grin spread over my face, and I inquired, laughingly, "So... Do you masturbate?"

Mom just rolled her eyes. Glanced away. Didn't answer that one, only shook her head in negation, cupped a hand over her mouth and snickered for a second. Then she went silent, and my words hung uncomfortably in the air before diffusing like particles of dust.

I was worried I'd gone too far, gotten too personal. We both returned to our plates for a couple of minutes, finished off our portions. After another heavy drag of wine, more words just fell from my mouth, and I asked, "Do you have a dildo?"

Mom burst into uproarious laughter, caught off guard, obviously, by the direct nature of the question. After catching her breath, wiping a tiny tear from her right eye, she stared at the floor, her face going blank, and replied, "No. No, I do not..."

"So you masturbate?" I shot back, and my devil face returned, my smile curving like a Cheshire cat.

"Maybe... Sometimes..." she replied, her voice cracking, and her lips twisted into another naughty grin as she blushed and looked up and locked her eyes to mine for a second. Seeing that naughty grin, the starry twinkle flashing in her eyes, I suddenly felt as if a bolt of lightning had passed between us, and my heart skipped a beat.

Mom giggled again, then looked back down at her plate, polished off the last couple bites. Then she crossed her gorgeous legs, started bobbing one of her legs nervously.

I was speechless. Thinking of my red-hot mom, in her bed, fingering herself. Thinking how slick and warm her pussy must be... My cock started to stiffen...

Mom then lifted her eyes to mine, puncturing the silence, "I've been lonely for a while. And yes, I have thought of cheating. Actually, I'm thinking of it right now..."

"Really?" I asked, my ears perking up, my heart beating faster, and my cock now rock hard and throbbing upwards, fighting the fabric of my boxers.

"It's just... I don't have anyone to be with. I'm married, so I can't exactly 'date,' and I don't want to use the internet or Ashley Madison or Twitter or Tinder, Stumble or Bumble or whatever app. But maybe I'd be with someone I know. Someone I trust. Someone... intimate..."

I reached across the table to take her hand into mine. But she was still being coy and drew her hand away before I could touch it.

In a gentle, reassuring voice, I told her, "Look, I know someone you know. Someone intimate. Someone you can be intimate with..."

"Really?" she replied, still staring down at her plate, despite it being empty. "And who might that be?"

"Me." I told her. My tone changing to one of assertiveness.

Mom snickered again, then looked up, spoke in a slightly quivering, yet serious voice, "You can't tell anyone. I'm serious. No one."

"I promise. No one will ever know. It's our secret." I assured her.

Holy shit. It was happening. It was then that I knew...

We were going to have sex.

Mom flicked her gaze away, sat silent for a few seconds, and then looked back over at me, and nodded. "Okay," she said, "but, remember, we cannot tell anyone about this," her forehead furrowed, and she went on, spitting out words in measured bursts, "No one can ever know. God, I think it's even illegal..."

"Yes, it is illegal, I think, in most places," I shot back, emphatically, cracking another wicked grin. "That's part of what makes it so hot."

Mom's face flushed crimson. She shook her head playfully, giggled, and then stood up, walked over to the window, near the alcove, near the coffeemaker.

Moving to the same spot in the kitchen, she screwed down her yoga pants, glanced over her shoulder, and with passion playing over her face, she gave me a green light look, before shifting her gaze back to the window.

She wore no panties, either. Obviously, she'd known what was going to happen, and a feral silence wrapped itself around us.

Holy shit... I thought to myself, my breath quickening... Holy shit! It was on!

My mother was standing half-naked in front of me. Her glorious, heart-shaped ass bare, waiting for my touch.

My grin exploded into a devious smile that creased my forehead and the corners of my eyes. My heart thumped. And I felt bedewed in cold sweat, my skin glittering in the melted butter color patina of the room.It was happening. It was actually happening. My wildest dreams were coming true!

I rose slowly. My cock harder than a steel beam.

I crept forth, thinking that at any minute this would stop, that she'd jerk up her pants...

But propped to the counter she remained. And there was no question what would happen next.

I twisted off my shirt, pants, and socks in seconds flat, then did away with my boxers. My dick got even harder as I walked, fully nude, towards my mother, her luscious ass pointed right at me.

As I neared her, she whispered, in a breathy, staccato voice, "Do you have a condom?"

"No," I sort of lied. I did have one, a box of them, in fact, in my room, but I didn't have one on me, then, and I wasn't trying to use one with her. Who'd have sex with his mom with a condom on? Something about that didn't sit right.

"Okay, just don't ... you know, inside me...," she cooed, her big blues narrowing and still fixed to the window.

Oh my God, I was about to have sex with my mother. Raw. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world at that moment!

As I approached her, I could feel the heat of her body sizzling at my skin. Perhaps instinctually, she jutted her ass further toward me, bent her spine and clutched her hands on the counter, gripping it tightly, ready for action.

With her bending over, I got a full view of the folds of her pussy. I'd never seen it before, well, I guess I did, many moons ago, but this, obviously, was different. I was really amazed by her pussy, too, its color, how pink it was, how puffy her outer lips were, and, best of all, she waxed, so I could enjoy an unobstructed view of all her pussy had to offer.

This was a beautiful pussy. Seriously. Its lips, its hue, how it glistened in the soft yellow lighting. I couldn't just go in and have sex with her. I'm not a caveman. No, this pussy deserved more. I had to explore it.

So I reached out, cupped my hands on her sensuous hips, caressed her sinuous curves, running my hands over her soft, smooth, bare ass, working my naughty paws down to her thighs. Fuuuuuuuuuuck... Her milky skin was like satin...

Dropping to my knees, I pushed my hands up, gripped her goddess ass and, like the bad boy I am, I stuck out my tongue and threw my face, right into the folds of her fragrant, rosy pussy, licking playfully around her puffy labia, quickly locating her clit.

Then I attacked her clit, like a hungry man at a feast. The delicious tang of her forbidden flesh feeding my hunger, nourishing me.

First, I licked. Then I sucked her whole clit into my mouth and nibbled on it. Then I released it. Went back to tonguing it. Her quiet, slightly fricative moaning grew into heavy screams, and her pussy began sopping and creaming, her delicate body trembling. Hearing her volume, I knew. It was clear I'd provided her with her first manmade orgasm in years. And for that, I felt proud, as well as satiated, after munching her muff, making my sexy mom cum.

Then it was time to get down to business. I rose, spread apart her ass, her globes so well-sculpted that they could be carved from marble. I gazed downward in amazement, one last time, at my mom's immaculate pussy. It was dripping wet. It looked even wetter too when I heard my mom murmur, "Oooow, fuck me, please..."

Her wish. My command.

I angled my hard dick, with my hand, and pointed it right at her opening. Holy shit, I'm doing it, I thought, I'm going to fuck my own mother...

And I did.

I jabbed my cock right up into her hot pussy. Thrusted in hard. Her pussy was small and tight, but it was so wet that my dick slid straight in with no hindrance, my cock powering, full staff, up into my mom's sugar walls, her slippery warm sweetness.

Holding her hips, I basked in her heat and lowered my gaze, saw my cock gone, buried, to the hilt, inside my mom's pussy. Her succulent ass was pressed to my pelvis, and for a second, I savored the moment. I allowed the immensity and awesomeness to wash over me like a tsunami, and I savored and soaked in the sensual warmth of her pussy.

It was everything like I'd fantasized and nothing like it. Nothing like it in that mere dreams couldn't compare...

Then it was time for real sex. I slid my cock, backward, slowly, letting it trace in reverse, plundering the circumference of my mom's slick hot pussyhole. I gyrated back my hips, pulling my penis back, moving passionately, until my cock was only engorged to the mushroom tip.

Once almost out, I pulled it out all the way, and it exited with a plosive pop. Then I grabbed my cock, fisted her slippery juices over my shaft and flicked my hard cock at my mom's throbbing clit. She broke into a guttural moan, then screamed like an opera singer as I thrust my cock back inside her, reveling in the sensation of once again penetrating my mother's sweet hot pussy. But this time I only dug in the tip of my dick.

I worked my tip into her, just the mushroom tip, fucking slowly, drinking in the sensation, her humidity... Then I pumped further, fucking slowly, up until the middle of my shaft, and my mom began to moan louder. Which I appreciated and could understand. This was the first dick she'd taken in years... Plus, this was all so fucked up and taboo, which of course made it that much hotter... for the both of us!

I mean, here we were, mother and son, having sex in the kitchen! It was like some shit from a MILF video online.

Only it was real...

I'd been going easy on her so far. And, truth is, I wanted to have sex with her. I like it slow, sort of passionate, but there are times too when the passion turns explosive. And that's what happened, once I started jabbing my dick inside her, to the hilt, again filling my mom's pussy up with my pulsing hard cock.

The sex then turned to fucking. And we picked up our pace. Fucking hard, her thrusting her soft, rippling ass back at me, twerking. Her pussy really was tight too, a hella nice fit. Six years with no dick. Even her fingers, all of them at once, couldn't replicate what I was doing to her with my dick.

We fucked and fucked. I clapped and slapped her ass. Our bodies entwined, I reached up under her blouse, squeezed her soft tits. Her nipples were hard and pointy. I jerked up her blouse, in bunches, so I could pinch on her nipples and watch her pointy tits jiggle and dance as I fucked her from behind.

After playing with her tits, I ran my fingers through her velvety hair, gently, at first, amazed at how fluffy it felt. Then I seized a fistful of her locks and pulled, tugged at her hair, loving the way that as I tugged her soft locks her ass crashed back at my pelvis and her pussy muscles seemed to hug harder on my cock.

Every so often, I couldn't believe I was actually doing this with my mom, but I was. And it felt so right. So natural. How could this ever be taboo, illegal? Nothing this hot, this right could be wrong...

But then an awkward moment occurred when I leaned atop her back, craned my neck, and tried to kiss her. Initially, she kept her gaze away from mine, wouldn't make eye contact.

Oh no, we had to kiss. I had to have her lips on mine. I grabbed another fistful of her hair and lightly turned her face to meet mine. She offered no resistance. She kept her eyes pressed shut as I went in, and we tangled tongues for probably a minute or so. She was a wonderful kisser. Very gentle. Kissing my mother, as I fucked and pumped and powered my cock into her pussy, from behind, was the most erotic moment I'd ever had in my life.

Kissing her too, was everything that I thought it would be and nothing like it, in that no fantasy could ever compare...

After kissing her, I was feeling the feeling. I knew what would happen. First, we'd been having sex, then we'd been fucking wildly, and after kissing, I was going to cum, and hard. Very hard.

I felt a small burst of pre-cum let loose, shoot up inside my mom's pussy, and as I pulled out, waves of electricity coursed through me, causing my body to shiver and shake. Thrusting back my hips, I grabbed and jerked my load, angling at her ass, her perfectly round globes, spraying it in thick stringy ropes and blobs, painting the entire area of my mom's hot ass in a drippy, pearly load.

After I finished, I stepped back, and it got a bit weird. My mom was standing there, my cum dripping and dribbling down her ass. She didn't seem to know what to say or do. Neither did I.

We were both like "uh..."

Holding my wet, semi-hard dick, which was dripping with our collective juices, I suddenly laughed nervously. Then she did. I went to hug, kiss her, but she waddled back, with her yoga pants pooled at her feet. She laughed nervously again, bent down and swiftly pulled up her yoga pants and muttered, "goodnight" with a goofy smile and dashed off, out of the kitchen.

Not knowing what else to do, I dressed, went back to the kitchen table, sat into one of the chairs, and resumed sipping my wine. As I sat there, I gazed at the heavy rain slanting at the window and marveled at my good fortune.

I'd done the deed.

I'd done her.

I'd fucked my mother.

And it wouldn't be the last time. Over the next couple weeks, we kept up our routine, after breakfast and dinner, in the kitchen, by the alcove. It was always identical. Her facing the window, limited kissing, me behind her. Often I'd go down on her beforehand. But she never went down on me. Which was okay. Having sex with her, penetrating her vaginally, was certainly satiating enough for me.

But, even after having sex, daily, nightly, it didn't get any easier for either of us. After sex, it was always the same thing, nervous giggles, furtive, red-faced glances, and her pulling up her yoga pants or sweatpants or fastening her robe and dashing out of the room.

She also wouldn't return any of my sexts, always replied with smiley emojis or not at all. She purposely avoided me around the house. Only saying a quick "hello" and walking briskly away if we'd bumped into each other.

She'd also not reply or would change the subject when I tried to get her to spend the night with me. I'd wanted to have an all-night romp with her, try different positions, all that, but, during those next two weeks, following our initial encounter, she never took me up on the proposal.

Finally, our trysts ended when my father and sister returned home. Things went back to as they were before, despite my numerous attempts to instigate another encounter.

I wondered, if it was just the lockdown, the loneliness, or if it was simply a dream. I figured it would never happen again. And, while that was sad, in a way, I accepted it. At least I'd gotten to have sex with my mother. I mean, how many guys can say that? I'd always have the memories.

After a couple months, I'd moved on, had begun to chat online with a girl, about my age, and was thinking less and less about what'd happened during that time.

Until one steamy summer night, when my mom sent me a late-night text saying, "Meet me in the kitchen..."