For Mom, The Son Also Rises free porn video

Brad had experienced numerous affairs and had a number of steady girl friends, as all young men in their twenties do. But it wasn't until Brad was twenty-five years old that a whole new and mysterious world had opened up to him. It was in his twenty-fifth year that Brad made love not to another feckless young girl in her twenties, but with a mature, vibrant, and sensual woman in her early forties. It was Brad's Mother who initiated him to the power Eros, as only a real woman can.

Nothing in their past seemed to lead to this special initiation of young man to Eros by the woman who gave him life twenty-five years before. True, ever since he was a c***d, Brad had cared very deeply about his mother in an especially intense way. Both shared a love of the written word, the lyrical melody, and the out-of-time and in-mind sensibilities they found in the arts and in the city in which they lived. But Brad's father, Jim, never really did. His was a world of taking money, insulating commerce, and insinuating "friends."

Brad's mother, Karin, had wanted at least a brother or sister for her son, perhaps in the hopes of providing Brad the love and sense of family his father couldn't—or wouldn't provide him. It was not to be. Instead, of family, love, or even the comfort of passion, Jim "moved his family" up, in his words, which really meant wrenching his too young wife and their sensitive son from the nurturing city to a barren suburb of relentless privilege and paltry pleasures.

Thus exiled, Karin and Brad would come to develop an even closer, deeper, more intimate bond to keep a family starved of any nurture alive and to keep love in the cold climate of the ready-made upper classes warm and vibrant. But this close relationship was utterly platonic, an exemplar of the bonds between parent and c***d.

It is true, however, that after Brad's eighteenth birthday in the summer after he graduated high school and was preparing to attend college, he did begin to notice and think of his mother. He began to see his mother as he never previously had, but perhaps as all young men of eighteen or nineteen have, do, and always at some point will.

Brad's father, Jim, had married Karin as his trophy wife when she was but in her early twenties. Lithe, tall, long-legged, and perhaps a bit sinewy in her youth, Karin aged gracefully into a strikingly beautiful young woman by the time Brad had become a teen. Her hips filled out, rounded but firm. Her legs were still taut and long. Her dark complexion complemented her large breasts. Still very firm but now with just the tiniest hint of a sag, Karin's breasts completed the body of a real woman, young and beautiful enough to keep the company of her younger rivals, but savvy and sensual enough to slay the competition.

It was in that summer after his eighteenth birthday that Brad caught a glimpse of his mother in her brassiere. As in all families, the son had glimpsed his mother this way before in the normal course of the morning or evening hustle and bustle of preparing for work or bed. And of course, Brad never thought anything of it.

But now as a college-bound, adult and young man, something changed. This time, the image stayed with him, insinuating, whispering, haunting, and heating dormant desires. He sought and found release over page and video from his father's Playboy collection. Spent over the image of his favourite Playmate, Brad would no longer have to think about how she looked not unlike his very own mother, or so he thought.

But whenever such a connection, such an inclination, or inkling would seem a distant, foreign disturbance or brooding storm passed, light coincidences would conspire to trigger his darker contemplations. A few weeks after seeing his mother in a brassiere, Brad saw her in a skimpy black bra and matching panties as she was preparing for bed. She was tall and firm, but just a hint of handles on her tummy. Her legs were smooth , shiny, and impossibly long. Her tits were fleshy but firm, strained to escape the tight black bra, as did her round, big and firm ass her panties. There was no doubt about it. Mom's tan and tall body stood out in all the more contrast to her tiny black panties and bra.

That night, pages of his favourite Playmate were made sticky upon the shudders of Brad's naked body.

On another night, he was suddenly was aware that he was on top of a long, tall, and dark woman. His cock disappeared into a hot buttery tunnel that pulsed and massaged the length of his manhood as it engulfed it in sweltering sweetness. His face was between two fleshy, pillowy mounds that tasted of cream and almonds; his mouth suckling on a long, rose coloured candy of a nub that arose from the heaving tit. His ass was pumping up and down, and the succulent tunnel into which his dick slid in and out rose up to engulf his masculinity.

It felt hotter and tighter with every thrust. He felt a buzzing, boiling commotion in his balls. That turned into a fiery thick magma that moved thickly into his cock and burned its way up in searing sweet rise. Everything was in a soft blur.

But not the rush of liquid fire up his cock. It became unbearable and blissful. And then his cock was twitching hard, shooting a lava of creamy white goo deep into the sweltering pussy in which his spurting penis was buried. Oh, it felt so incredible. He opened his eyes and struggled to see the face of this amazing woman between the two fleshy tits upon which his chin rested. He heard a woman's cry: "OH, BRAD, YES!!" Just then, the face came into view. It was his mother.

Suddenly, Brad was back in his bedroom, in the dark, and his eyes opened in shock. It had all been a dream, a strange, frightening dream. But something happened. He felt a wet, warm, sticky cream all over his tummy. He had cum in his sleep. The dream was frightening, but also all so real and yet otherworldly. Everything was engraved into his mind's eye, but for the face of the mystery woman into whom he had emptied his young man's lust. But somewhere Brad knew. The voice, her face: it was Mom. Wiping himself clean, he felt vaguely dirty. The woman's face and her voice. They were...no, it couldn't be.

Disturbed, he pulled out the Playboy magazine from under his mattress. He reached for the one in which that Playmate was wearing but tiny black panties and bra, topped off with long black stockings. THat was the edition in which, as he turned th pages, that very same Playmate stripped off her bra, then the stockings. And then finally, that Playmate stripped off her panties. In no time he was spraying the image of that Playmate's pussy with his potent, youthful juices.

Now he could sleep. That's who the face was in his dream, he thought to himself; it was his favourite Playmate. As he drifted off to sleep, a last thought flashed before his eyes, to be forgotten in the morning: his favourite Playmate looked a lot like his mother, Karin.

In time, Brad moved back to the city to attend college, graduate, and make his way. The love that could not speak its name of "mother" seemed to recede, as it might for a select few young men. And so this might have remained so, had Brad's three-year relationship not broken up shortly before his twenty-fifth birthday. In the aftermath of the breakup, Brad seemed to withdraw from all socializing.

He seemed disconsolate and taciturn in telephone his conversations with his mother, so much so that Karin began to worry for her boy. She decided that the next social event her husband dragged her to, she would insist on bringing her son, not only for the welcome company but for his well being as well.

It wasn't much longer after Karin decided upon her strategy that one of Jim's clients had invited him and Karin to a soirée. Normally, Karin dreaded these events, as so many of the men would leer at her, and her husband would get offensively drunk to offend the other wives by leering at them. But with her son coming along, Karin would help him re-enter the social world and have some charming company as well. It was decided. Karin, her husband, and her son would attend.

Upon Karin's considerable prompting, Jim accompanied her to stop in on their son's apartment and convince him to go with them to the client's party. Karin seemed especially pleased to see her son, and complimented him on his brooding good looks and sensitive demeanor. Jim made snide remarks about Brad's increased drinking as of late, without offering any insight to or comfort for his son's grieving. But even the old man had to admit to himself that his son had cut a fairly fine figure.

The party annoyed Brad. But he tried his best to make great strides in small talk with his father and his cronies. Brad soon began pouring the drinks in the hopes of making the women look better to him, most of whom were his mother's age, but nowhere near as attractive. It didn't really matter tonight, though. Brad was feeling his buzz, feeling more than a little lonely, and a little like indulging his sudden fantasy of spiriting one of these women away from her drunk husband, taking her upstairs, and fucking her senseless.

As Brad hungrily scanned the room, he glimpsed out of the corner of his eye a striking woman with very big, firm tits–––for this was the frame of mind Brad was in––-standing across the room from him. He continued to eye her tits. She was vaguely familiar. She crossed her long, black-stockinged legs, and he caught a glimpse of her tan and taut thigh. Brad's penis was suddenly erect and very hard. He shifted his position from where he sat in the wan hope of disguising his sudden hope. The striking woman turned to face Brad. Their eyes met. Brad was stung with a sudden sobriety. The woman for whom his penis was pulsing gave Brad anther jolt.

The mystery woman was his own mother.

Jim came into the room and went to Karin. Jim was starting up again, saying something dismissive and cruel, as was his wont to do when had a few to drink, or even none at all. Karin was having none of what he was dishing out tonight. But her words neither tempered nor admonished him; he seemed to become belligerent, and began a too-loud whisper, sneeringly telling Karin what she ought or could not do, in so many words.

As in so many instances before, Brad decided to intervene to deter his father from being any more abusive to Mom than he normally might be. The rest of the party guests were preoccupied with themselves, their drink, and their fatuous flatteries to do anything but provide background noise to an unpleasant scene escalating into a nasty one. Brad staggered over and good-naturedly asked to cut in, taking his Mom for a quick and casual dance and out of the line of fire. This time was different. Karin was angered and hurt, and she asked her son to take her home, and right away. Turning her back to her husband's muttered curses and loud "good riddance and good luck," Karin grabbed her coat and her son's hand and left.

Evidently, Jim was going to stay and have one too many more a drink and "chat" with his "friends," which really meant one of the wives with whom he was carrying on an affair.

When they got outside, the cool air was bracing enough, but not enough for Karin to believe that her son was sober enough to drive. She volunteered to take Brad back to his apartment, and he was fine with it. Upon arriving, Brad asked his mother to come in and unwind for a bit, and let him know what the new escalation of tension between her and his dad was really all about. She agreed.

An hour later at two o'clock in the morning, Mom and son had ended up sitting on the love seat, talking. Brad was still buzzing on that night's drinks, and Karin was not a little emotional when recounting her dissatisfactions with her wayward husband.

Brad poured Karin some red wine, which mellowed her somewhat, especially in light of the fact that she had had a few drinks at the party as well. It was with the first warm blush of the wine that Karin began to tear up, recounting the drink and women that were distracting her already sufficiently distracted husband. Her talking trailed off and she began to cry. As his mother stuttered between words and tears, Brad reached for her and put his arms around her to snuggle her in a son's loving embrace.

He rocked and snuggled her, holding her close. She closed her eyes and gave herself to his tender, yet strong and commanding embrace. As Brad snuggled her tightly, he became aware of her big, fleshy tits pressed squarely his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, Brad began to focus—and focus yet again––on the way her short, black dress had crept up to the tops of her black stockings.

She looked rather sexy, rather like some of those Playmates in Dad's magazine and video collection. But then again, maybe those Playmates looked like Karin. Mother or not, Karin definitely looked very sexy, indeed. Karin giggled a bit, which only further focused Brad's new curiosity. She told her son that if he kept holding her as tightly as he did, her new dress would probably be the worse for the wear. Brad insisted that she needed to be held, and his mother agreed. "Oh, son, this is nice, really nice, but I can't keep on holding you and wearing this dress. It's going to be a wrinkled heap in no time."

Brad, half-facetiously and half-seriously, suggested that she take off her dress. His mother agreed, somewhat to his surprise. She turned her back to him for him to unzip her. Such was the trust between mother and son that she nestled back into his arms, resting her head on his chest, her long dark hair tickling his chin.

It took a Moment or two for Brad to take in that while his mother was wrapped fully around him in his arms, she, on the other hand, was wrapped in only tiny black laced panties and matching bra, garter belt and black stockings. She felt warm. She smelled of a light dust of talcum and wine, and the faint fragrance of a cool skin cream and fervid perfume, all swirled lightly and deliciously together.

Brad felt a sudden warmth, not all of it from his lovely mother, but rather within himself.

Now Brad became aware of how sexy his Mom's long legs were, especially in her black stockings and garter belt. Her black-laced brassiere pressed her tits tightly together and up, accenting a deep cleavage that rose and fell gently like the Queen Mary at sea. Brad became aware of something else, as well. Maybe it was his Mom's sweet smell or her soft skin; maybe it was her long, shapely legs; or it could have been that she was in but a tiny black lace bikini underwear; or maybe it was even her big, firm tits. Any single one of those sexy things or anything about his beautiful, sexy mother should never have made the blood rush and make his manhood stir, but stir it did. His cock was hard, very hard, and throbbing, too.

Brad tried to deny it. Then he tried to hide it. Then he tried not to do anything about it. Then he tried not to be too obvious as he was failing all of the other tests. Try as he might, Brad could not help but stroke his mother's back. His fingertips gently skimmed and brushed her ribcage. Her skin was silky smooth and warm.

Tracing over, around, and on her bra strap, Brad's fingers began to tremble. But as if possessed of a will of their own, they continued. He didn't want to stop them. He couldn't, even if he did. Again and again his fingers traced and touched his mother's soft skin. Then they somehow slipped under the clasp at the back of his mother's brassiere.

Karin seemed content. She sighed warmly, gently wrapping her arm up over her son's neck, nuzzling her face into his chest, and gently closing her eyes, purring softly, "Ummmm…my sweet, sweet boy; I love so much, you know that?"

Brad murmured back lovingly, "Umm-hmmm; I love you, too, Mom," and he tenderly kissed her once on her ear, once on her nose, and once on the bangs that fell gently upon her temple. His mother cooed happily, nestling still tighter unto his chest. She didn't even notice that his fingers once again slipped under the back of her brassier and traced lightly over her skin toward her ribs. His fingertips continued, overshooting her ribs but brushing up right against the warm, fleshy swell of her breast. Brad quickly but quietly pulled his fingers away.

Mom continued to nestle and didn't seem to notice, or at least not let on that she did. In fact, her close nestling seemed to expose more of the swell of her breast, at least it seemed that way to Brad. And she didn't move when her son's hand once again drifted up toward and upon the base of her smooth, fleshy breast. As it happened, his fingers "misjudged" again–––that would be Brad's excuse, anyway, if she reacted angrily–––for they slipped up to within an inch of his Mom's nipple. Of course Brad caught himself and pulled his fingers away. He just misjudged his "hug," or so Brad made excuses for himself.

Still, his Mom seemed very happy and peaceful, almost like a lightly napping cat. She turned her face slightly into his chest, almost as if she was kissing or nipping Brad through his shirt. For some strange reason, Brad felt his heart starting to beat harder, and he could swear he heard it pounding in his brain. His mouth felt dry as bone, but his breath as hot and moist as a New York summer's day.

Brad brushed his lips lightly over his Mom's eyes, and he could feel her sigh. That was interesting. So, he then brushed his lips over nose. She turned her face up toward him, which was even more interesting. His heart was beating faster. Her graceful but sudden turn brought their lips brushing together. Karin's lips opened lightly and she kissed her son softly and squarely on his lips. This happened just when his fingers brushed up against her nipple. Karin's gave her son another light kiss.

But this second kiss lingered. A sweet, soft sound passed between her open lips and a sigh of surprise stayed in her throat. Brad's fingers lingered over her nipple the way her lips lingered on his. Her eyes were now open. And Brad was trying to keep track of this, but for one distraction. His fingers were still on her nipple. He had wanted to put them there. He had a new reason to keep them there: His mother's nipple was stiffening into a hard, veiny, and rubbery bud between his finger and thumb.

He felt his wrist quickly grasped by Karin's hand, and he just knew she was going to pull his fingers away and slap his hands. To his surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, her hand just stayed on his wrist. It almost felt like it was trembling. Brad's heart started beating faster. He felt a sudden heat rising to his temple.

The sudden warmth shouldn't have been a surprise; his fingers were now gently but firmly pinching, pulling, and stroking at her long nipple. It was getting very hard to his touch. His Mom was breathing deeper and harder, too. That wasn't all, either. Brad's cock was getting hard, very hard. Brad did not know what to make of the situation. His cock was not only hard, but it was also throbbing. He could feel it pulsing. The tip of his cock felt hot. So hot that Brad began to feel as if though it was spouting something.

Brad realized then that pre-cum was starting to ooze out of his throbbing cockhead, making his tight black underwear sticky. This only happened when he stripped when looking at those Playboy Magazines of Dad's---or when he would make love to his now ex-girlfriend. This was a bit shocking. His penis was pulsing harder than it ever did when he masturbated over sexy magazine pictures, and it certainly was pulsing harder than when he was with any of his now former girlfriends.

The realization shocked him. It also excited him further: Mom was in his arms, nearly naked. Brad's cock pulsing and oozing pre-cum in preparation for the act of love, but this time it was for his own, nearly naked mother.

Brad began to feel he was going crazy. The heat in his temples, the dryness of his mouth, the throbbing and pulsing in his dick set him to fire and on fire. Brad couldn't help making the next move, even if he got slapped and reprimanded. It was now or never, wherever "now" was leading and whatever "never" was supposed to happen.

He nervously slipped both his palms into his mother's brassiere. He began kneading her nipples and tit flesh. Before she had a chance to respond, he brought his lips to her full, lush lips and thrust his tongue in. He was in for a surprise. Mom's lips were already parted. As soon as his tongue entered her mouth, it was met by her tongue. Hers flickered, slithered, danced, and wrestled with his. Another surprise. Karin moaned into his mouth. Her hands grasped his wrists tighter, but they did not push them away from her now heaving breasts. Brad's cock was twitching so hard now that he was sure he was about to cum.

What followed is something Brad "never" expected would ever happen. His mother seemed to enjoy what was happening. "Ummmmm…oooooooo…mmmmm" were the sounds his mother moaned into his mouth as her tongue flailed his. Her hands went to his head and pushed him toward her breasts. It was all happening as if in a sultry, forbidden dream. It seemed so real, hyper-real, like those wet dreams about "MOM," the one to which every nineteen year-old young man wakes up, flustered, excited, and covered in his own manly essence, the dream that is too hot to forget, and too shocking to dare remember.

Brad went with the dream, moving quickly before he had to wake up. He bent down his head and with his lips, pulled away the brassiere to get to her hard, sweet, rubbery nipples. Into his hungry mouth went her warm, moist, sweet spongy tit flesh. He found and began to suckle her sweet, hard nipples. They tasted of that milky, sweet flavour he had so loved in women, and these were just a bit musky, too–––like in his murky but hot wet dream. It was as if the images of Playboy, the thrill of tasting his first girlfriend's body, and the mysterious, moist, fleshy and primal pleasure of feeding upon Mom were combined all in one incredible, hyper-real Moment.

"Ohh, God, yes," is what Brad thought. This was no dream. This was that teenage boy's wet dream as a surreal, hyper reality. As Brad suckled on his mother's nipples, making them hard and long, Karin reached around and unhooked her brassiere. Now Brad's cock was throbbing so hard it felt like a piston pumping just before the engine set into first gear.

He suckled more and more of Mom's sweet tits into his mouth, one by one. He prayed the dream wouldn't end. It didn't. He would push the envelope. So, Brad slid his hand into the waistband of his mother's black lace panties, grasping and kneading her round ass. It was now undulating and thrusting. As Brad suckled, kissed, and bit her nipples and squeezed her ass, Mom began to moan loudly. This was no dream. Then a bit of "reality" began to enter the Moment.

She started to talk to him, telling him that she knew he had a bit too much to drink, too much to deal with, and too much heartache to do what he was doing on purpose. As she was pardoning, forgiving, but gently reprimanding him, Brad had to push the intrusion of a mother's realism out of his dream reality. He moved his hand right into her panties, right where they tiny black fabric covered her ass. Under the panty waistband went his hand. It continued to glide under her hips, and right up between her thighs. It didn't stop. In a fraction of a second that seemed like a decade, his fingertips touched the first bristly hairs of his mother's pussy bush.

Suddenly startled, Karin began to protest. Reality threatened. But still his hand crept up. His fingertips strained that extra half-inch. They were rewarded. The skin of his two fingers were electrified with the sudden feel of two very moist pussy lips:

"WAIT…Wai...Wwwaoooo…Oooooh!" Her protest ended in a gasp. But that ending was the beginning of something strange and wonderful for Brad: a low, heated grunt growled in Mom's throat. Brad was now at the crossroad. His hand was covering her cunt. His fingers were rubbing his mother's slippery, greasy pussy lips. His fingers, wet with the juice of her pussy lips, found her hood. It was teased until it gave up a hard, rubbery nub. Brad had begun rubbing his mother's now hard, rubbery clit. Some part of his conscience was in full alarm. He wanted to stop. He wanted to turn back the clock. He wanted to apologize to his mother. He wanted her to forget everything he did.

But the thing that Brad wanted to do more than anything else was pull down his mother's panties to get to her pussy.

His heart was pounding. His mind was reeling. His senses were swirling as if in a maelstrom. He had to know. He had to experience it. He had to have it. He had to reach for the waistband of her black bikini panties. Brad did. He just had to peel them off her. Brad did. He had to take her garter belt off, too. Brad did. With mouth as dry as Death Valley days, and his cock was as hard as Chinese algebra, Brad slipped his Mom's tiny black lace panties down her long, shapely legs, down to her ankles and then off of her pretty feet.

Mom just watched him, opened mouthed. But she lifted her ass up so that he could remove that which blocked what he just had to see. Brad surely noted that. Her garter went the same way.

He went back and peeled off her sheer black stockings, one long shapely leg at a time. She watched him his every move, leaning back on the couch and supporting herself with her hands. She did not stop him. Then, Brad moved up over her. As he did, his mother laid down on her back, on the couch, nude. Her breasts were heaving. She was breathing heavily. Her breath sounded loud, moist, and broken. Her big tits sagged just a bit to either side. They were rising and falling like two boats moored off the shore. She lay before him naked, and made no move to cover herself or stop her son.

But she tried to give him a chance to stop himself at the Moment and on the spot. She began to tell him, again, and tell him firmly that she knew he had a bit too much to drink. As she did, Brad stripped off his shirt. As she spoke, she became aware that her son was now bare-chested. She still didn't cover herself up. Karin then told him that he had had too much to deal with, and perhaps too little support from her to handle it all.

As she said this, Brad kicked off his shoes, tore off his socks, and stripped off his pants. Karin continued, but now she became aware that her son was now down to his underwear. It was a tight fit. Her beloved son was in one of those tight, tiny black bikini for men. They showed everything. That's when Karin admitted to it herself: her son had a lot to show.

In fact, he was hot. Even with the bikini underwear still on him, Karin could see that her son's cock was big, and his balls were taut. She started up again, but Karin's words caught in her throat. When she finely found the words, her voice was now a bit ragged, shaky, and she was speaking way too distractedly. Her son wasn't listening now. Karin was up to the part where her son had experienced too much heartache in too short a time to be doing what he was doing on purpose, when she stopped mid sentence. Brad had just peeled off his underwear and let them fall in a puddle at his feet.

Karin's eyes opened in a dreamy, fluttering stare. She gazed upon her son. He was naked. His body was taut, beautiful, and rippling with heat. His cock was hard, so very hard. It throbbed and bounced with each beat of his pounding heart. Karin wondered what to do. Her son was so beautiful, too beautiful for a mother to gaze upon. And too beautiful to turn away.

Brad looked at his sweet, sensitive mother. She was spread nude on her back on the backless love seat. She was spread nude, helpless to prevent a fucking she never expected, a fucking from her own flesh and blood. He gazed hotly over her.

His eyes wandered over her big, gorgeous tits and their long, hard nipples; his eyes scrutinized her tummy, fleshy with just a tiny hint of punch befitting a middle-aged beauty, but still so firm, with a beautiful navel winking at his gaze; his eyes drank in his mother's black furry strip of a pussy bush, with its wet and swollen lips unfolding like mature rose petals before his eyes. A twinge of conscience cut through him. He could stop. He didn't have to defile his mother. He didn't have to commit the greatest taboo between mother and son. He didn't have to condemn himself or his mother to the crime they were to commit.

Then, Brad glanced once again at his mother's big, shapely, cock-stiffing tits, with just the hint of middle-age sag, with their dark brown areolas and red rose nipples, hard and veiny. They were rising up and down with the frightened, excited breath coming from his mother's full-lipped and opened mouth. He saw her tummy, shimmering with the dew of arousal, its 'innie" navel winking at him.

He gazed upon her dark thatch of pussy fur, a perfect "V" of bristly hair coalescing between her hard, thick thighs, which ran down into long, marble-smooth legs. He could smell the sweet musky aroma wafting from her vagina, and the sweet tang of her sweat from her underarms, neck, breasts, and every pore in her now undulating body. The aromas and sights curled and caressed Brad's senses, from his cock to his brain, tugging, jerking, and pulling on toward the logical conclusion of a hot, illogical dream.

And before Brad's conscience could figure out a way to awaken a son from his most forbidden and desired dream, he was already positioning himself on top and between the legs of his sweet innocent mother. Afraid that his engorged cock would too quickly release the building, burning magma within, Brad was swiftly but gently began lowering his nude hardness onto her fleshy, warm nakedness. Karin's eyes opened wider. She began to know just what would happen next. She began to know that nothing else could, and it was all unfolding, as were her legs and the heaving of her big, firm tits.

Before she could even process all of this, she began lifting her long legs up and pulling her knees apart. Her hands were splayed lightly on his hard, tight hips. A mother's conscience was losing its final battle to stay above the surging tide of a woman's passion. Karin was a woman in that Moment, the Moment when she knows it is about to happen, and welcoming its inevitability, fearing and yet hungering for her own surrender to it. And as a mother's conscience slipped beneath the waves of arousal, Karin's surging tide was pulling her son's very hard penis toward her creamy, slippery center.

She realized that this time there were no barriers of fabric, circumstance, or guilt, taboos, father and husband to block what was about to unite. As a Mom's micro black bikini panties and son's tight, tiny black bikini underwear were lying on the floor, it was happening. Karin knew then just where her son was going.

Brad's penis fumbled for the slippery groove between her hairy mound and her puckered brown star. He rubbed his twitching penis over the bristly hair on her mound searching for her nest, before slipping the rubbery penis helmet down to the thick, swollen labia. He followed the hot wetness and was rewarded. His rubbery helmet head pushed up against the two swollen, slick, slippery lips. Karin shivered.

Brad was rubbing the head of his cock up and down his mother's slit and upon her swollen nub, preparing her, begging her, commanding her, proving to her that his flesh would once again fill every part of her womanhood, every sweltering, moist fold, crevice, and depth with the flesh of his flesh, the hard heat of his manhood, and the fruit of her own womb. Her vagina, her lips, her clit itched to be found by her son's hunger.

That's when son's cock had found them all. By then it was too late for her to stifle her moans of pleasure. Moan the mother did. So did her son; her pussy lips felt so slippery and hot on his dick. A son rubbed his mother's pussy lips harder with his hot manhood, coaxing and teasing those creamy, greasy lips open, teasing the gated, hallowed Eden open for a return to paradise lost. Soon, Brad made his next move.

The return had begun. He began pressing into her now very creamy, slippery slit. This was a whole new, exciting type of "comforting." First, his pulsing purple head pressed into his mother's love hole. Brad's dick plowed in just enough to make her eyes pop open wide and force a breath hotly from her open mouth. But it did more than that. The hard, rubbery head of her son's penis was stretching his Mom's moist lips wide open, splitting them apart. It felt so hot and velvety inside, as if her vaginal tunnel were lined in melted sugar, satin and rose petals, all basted in a hot dripping butter, gripping and sucking in his quivering dick as a warm, puckering mouth does a sweet cherry lollipop.

Karin was panting, closing her eyes, and giving in to a tingling, hot pleasure so intense that she couldn't bear to see the beautiful, naked man who was causing it. But he felt so good. She had to look, nonetheless. Half opening her eyes, Karin stared down between her now heaving, big breasts to see such a sight. Brad pulled out. For a moment there was breathless anticipation. What would happen now? Then she felt his cockhead begin to slide into her, again.

He felt big, really big. But his Mom was wet and she was spreading her hot, Mommy thighs even wider for him. At that instant, Brad started to feed the rest of his big cock inside. His mother gasped, "Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh," dropping her head back, fluttering her eyes, and rolling back under the sudden assault of taboo's pure pleasure invading her womanhood.

It was not "going to happen." It was already happening, and Karin knew it. Now she knew as never before the real meaning, the real blissful crises of the word: "fucking." Her own son was fucking her. It seemed like so many of those dreams Mom had had, but had never spoken of, too. It felt so good that she gave in to it, welcomed it, and savoured it, whispering, "Ohhh, fuck…Oooooo, fuck…OOOOOO, FUCK" hotly from her moist lips. This signaled the gravity of the Mother and Son's sin, and how hot, wicked, and so good it all felt.

Brad heard Karin's open-mouthed exclamations. He knew what they meant: Permission granted. Pushing forward, he started penetrating deeper into her wet cunt. Mom was feeding him, too. She was feeding him all that he had hungered for and had once starved himself of out of such fear, for so long: to be between Mommy's strong thighs, to have his cock deep inside Mommy's cunt. This was the return to paradise, even if it meant damnation eternal.

She wasn't stopping him. She wasn't slowing him. She wasn't in anyway doing anything to fight the swelling, searing warmth of the sun rising and spreading from deep between her thighs, rising from the deepest folds, from the molten core of her pussy. And he wouldn't stop until he had her, took her, impaled her, and yes, that ending, yes, that ending in which he would fill her, return to her, leaving a seeds of himself again, planted so deeply and safely in her womb.

He loved the feel of her slippery, tight, wetness. He loved the sweet smell of her pussy, the softness of her skin, feel of her big, firm tits squeezed bulging flat against his chest; the wetness that oozed not only from her cunt, but from every pore of mother and son. The sound of her moans and gasps drew him in, harder. He continued to push in, stronger now, burying his cock ever deeper in his mother's pussy.

This was a new, and very special type of "comforting," the inevitable, real "comforting," the one that both needed and wanted all along, the one that they, on some level, knew, hoped for, and finally did everything the could to make it happen. Karin was so excited. She struggled to keep herself in position as her son pushed his cock deeper inside of her, his hot meat melting whatever resistance the steamy, sticky, and slick buttery folds that a sexy mother's excited vagina could offer.

Brad's veiny shaft was so damned thick. As he pushed his hips forward, the heat and girth of his penis instantly began to "comfort" his own mother's pussy walls. Karin couldn't believe how big her son was and how well he knew how to use it. It seemed to take forever for Brad to push all of his thick, hot meat––from the tip to the base—all the way into Karin's love canal, and a little while longer for her to adjust to her boy's 7 or 8 inches of mother love. Finally, Brad's balls rested on Mom's anus. He really did it.

Both lay still in the moment. Their sex throbbed in excruciating pleasure as their mouths sighed in disbelief. A son's penis was buried all the way inside his mother's vagina. He really did it, and she let him. And he was so thick that he made Karin feel like she was losing her virginity all over again. Karin was gasping with pleasure. So was he. A son's cock was buried to the root of his mother's love canal, and neither Mom nor son had felt anything so intense and incredible, be it lover, girlfriend, or spouse.

There she was, a naked, gorgeous mother pinned to the love seat under the weight of her naked, sexy son. His balls were tight against her pelvis, and there was no denying it: Mom's son had a dick that felt so big, so hard, and so good, buried so deep in her wet, tight pussy. A part of her wished her philandering husband could see her now: she, Jim's wife, naked and spreading her legs open wide while Jim's own son was lying on top of her, naked, his hard penis buried in his mother's wet vagina, right up to the root her hot, grasping, and tingling love tunnel.

That's when Brad began to pull his penis out. Did he have second thoughts? If he did, what might she do or say, now that she wanted it so much. Karin whimpered in disappointment. "Where are you going," she seemed to gasp. Just before the penis was about to exit Karin's vagina, Brad pushed it back in again. This made her pussy quiver and secrete more hot, buttery juice in excitement. She moaned in gratitude.

The thick base of her son's penis rubbed down her clit perfectly as well. Karin sighed. She was relieved and happy. There was no denying it to herself, now. She was so ready. Brad repeated the new "comforting" technique," pulling his hard penis out and pushing back in. It was working. Karin's pussy had stretched, secreted, and juiced to accommodate her son's big, hot cock as he began to pump her.

Brad was "comforting" his mother by returning to her, reconnecting with her, filling her up with himself ––with his very hard penis, and he couldn't believe how good it felt. Her pussy had stretched and gushed to accommodate the taboo invader, making it part of her all over again.

She knew then how much her son really cared about her. She felt the hot moist breeze of his breath as his mouth nuzzled into her ear. He kept on thrusting his hips to fill and empty and fill again her love canal with all of his caring, hard cock.

Again and again, a very excited and beautiful mother felt power of virile love as her son's plunging cock was rubbing, stroking, and sculpting every sweet fold and depth of her dripping, sugary cunt walls.

Her vagina was so tight for a middle-aged mother, tight as if it hadn't been entered in so long a time.

Brad loved it. He loved the feel of her slippery, tight, wetness. His cock felt the slippery friction of her love canal's tight, buttery walls. They stroked, squeezed, and heated her son's dick with such slick, sweltering lubrication, drawing it in deeper on every thrust he made. Perfect. So perfect. It felt so amazingly good. So good, in fact, that Brad pushed in and pulled out again, and again, until he was soon thrusting in and out in a slow, deep, and steady rhythm.

Karin was helping him, too. She was delirious with delight at the feel of his large---very large---penis pumping in and out of her vagina, so much so that she instinctively lifted her ass off of the couch and thrust her pussy up to suckle on her son's dick. The more she rolled up her ass off the couch, the more of her son's penis her vagina could swallow. That felt so good that she had to have even more of him, more of the sweet, hot sensations his manhood was giving her maternal body.

With every thrust of his hard sword into her softly opening vaginal sheath, a mother felt like she was the sea of dark warm waves. Deep down in her watery trench, the hot fathoms parted and rolled asunder, in long, simmering billows of currents racing up and breaking the surface as wispy crests of foam, spurting up over slick pussy lips as they opened and closed over the plunger pistoning in and out of the oceanic center between her trembling, parting thighs.

It felt so good! The plunger diving to the roiling depths of her maternal sea so fucked Karin so well that she couldn't help raising her long legs into the air and spreading them in a wide "V." "Oh, Yes!" Karin gasped. "Ooooo! So Much better!" She moaned again. Spreading her legs wide and in the air for her son let escape a miracle to feel. Out of the corner of his eyes,

Brad could see his mother's long, shapely legs, spread high and wide just for him, with her pretty feet and curled toes on either side of his face. Before being swept up into her tides, Brad looked at her outspread legs and loved it, loved it, loved it all. Brad had more room–––and more encouragement––– for his penis to "comfort" the deepest depths of his Mom's vagina, rubbing right up onto the portal of her womb. It was working. The plunging, the tides, the foam, the heat, the fucking, yes, the son fucking his mother, all of it was sweeping them both up into their own perfect storm. So perfect was the gathering storm that Karin pulled her long, outstretched legs all the way up toward her ears, and curled her toes even tighter.

That took an already fantastic plunge to an entirely deeper level, with Brad now thrusting his penis in deep, long, hard, and ever-faster strokes. Now Mom and son were saying things like, "Ooooo," "Unngggghhh," Ohhhhhh, yessss," and they said "God," and "Oh, God," a lot as well.

All of that thrusting, kneading, and pounding stirred the depths of her sea, roiling, heating, it, making it boil deeper, deeper, deeper down to the creamiest, slipperiest, and hottest depths of her pussy. The raging tide made Karin twirl her ass around, in tight, concentric circles, drawing her son's dick right into her womb. Mother and son were kissing each other deep in the mouth. Again and again, their tongues were snaking and swirling over each other as if mother and son mouths were sharing in the same tidal rush as the one his penis and her vagina were getting.

It was then that Brad was rocketed back to the beginning. The twenty-five year old son felt like he was once again a naked baby on his Mommy. He kneaded and suckled Karin's breasts and hard nipples with his mouth, famished and nursing on his Mom's full, nourishing tits. His mouth felt like the power of Man and the vulnerability of infant on Karin's hard, sweet nipples. Her nipples tingled and crackled with electricity. It spread. It spread to her quivering tit mass, racing to join storms erupting throughout her writhing, squirming, wet body.

And this suckling of Karin's nipples joined the tingling storm in her tits and pussy, setting off volcanoes in her boiling watery depths. That deep tingling began to feel less like a boiling sea and more like fire and lava, like it was creation growing deep in her cunt, spreading its fiery fury like fingers up over her belly, her tits, down her long spread legs into her curled toes, and right up to her fevered brain.

Such was the pussy-pounding plunging of her son's cock that her frothing cunt and jiggling tits and outspread legs undulated, jiggled, and writhed below his every rise and fall. Creation's tingling fire arose, boiling away waves and water, and now hotly devouring the foaming, sweet and salty sea raging in her cunt. Her cunt was burning in a new, strange thirst, as wet as it was. It was suddenly that simple and that clear. Mom was hoping her son would soon pump a "lotion" into her vagina and quench it's thirst. Such is often the reasoning of a woman on the verge as her lover's cock rubs her clit into an oblivion of heat, fire, and bliss.

Brad was feeling it too, right in the boiling depths of his balls and the throbbing, ecstatic crises rising in his cock. His tongue sought out refreshment in his mother's dew and juices, flickering and sliding upon her big, jiggling tits, on her neck, and in the wet spicy crevices of her underarms. She gave it all to him, her body commanding her boy, "Oh son, drink, drink!"

That's when the just-about drowned voice of conscience gasped its last: Should a mother let, no, make her son pump his lotion into her vagina? As she thought about this, Brad's hand snaked under her and grabbed tight of her sweaty ass checks, fingers slipping into her butt crack. His hand started squeezing her moist, round ass, and her anus began to be tickled and touched.

That' when Karin's tingling sensations became a strong, rippling wave throughout her body. The wave of pleasure made her pussy suddenly tighten up to its maximum. Just when she thought her pussy could get no tighter, it did. Then there was a blinding flash of light in Karin's brain and a sudden, searing explosion from deep in her vagina that raced over her clit and burst throughout her body and being.

Whatever Karin was thinking about ended. Wave after wave of merciless pleasure erupted deep in her pussy and swept over to inundate her entire, trembling body, blasting over flesh and thought in a tidal wave of intense, pulsing, tingling bliss.

Somehow, amidst the fluttering and convulsing of her cunt canal, and all of her moaning and wailing, Karin felt hot streams of pleasure literally flowing from her vagina's walls, spraying over her son's penis and out onto her anus. She was finally spurting her own lotion all over her son's penis, and a lot, too. The sensations rocked her to her core, making her feel as if her body was exploding into a million pieces of pleasure.

Instinctively, desperately even, Karin suddenly threw her round, hard thighs upon her son's sides, wrapping her long legs around his waist. She locked her ankles and crossed her pretty feet tightly above his pumping ass. Now he was hers. She owned every straining, trembling fiber and muscle of him like she never commanded of any lover or husband. With her long legs wrapped around her son's waist and her pretty feet crossed over his pumping ass, she now pulled him deeper into her body and at the same time clung and grasped on to him for dear life.

As she did, she pumped hard and fast as she could, smearing all of her lotion over every inch of Brad's penis. It was working. Brad immediately plunged his basted cock deeper and harder into her. Her pussy muscles squeezed, flexed, and rippled up and down his throbbing dick. Mom was cumming all over son's penis. It was beyond incredible. It was spiritual. It was the big bang in her matronly universe, exploding and expanding between her squeezing thighs.

Feeling his Mom's hot fluids spraying all over his dick and balls made Brad want to finish the "comfort session" right away, with a "big bang" of his own.

His body began to jerk. Karin was squeezing her legs tightly around Brad's waist and suddenly crying out the secret words of her deepest, darkest dreams, "Ohhhhhhh God, Brad! Oooo, yes! Cum! Give it to me! Yes! Oh, yes, that's it! You want to…do it! DO IT! CUM INSIDE MOMMY! FILL UP HER PUSSY WITH YOUR HOT CUM!!"

Brad gasped helplessly. He was losing the struggle to hold on, to wait, to stretch out paradise one more minute, one more second, one more lifetime. But Mom was not to be denied or disobeyed!

Karin arched her back and thrust her ass high off the couch. Mom was now grinding her ass like all good mothers do, jamming her hairy pussy up onto a manly lover's bristly crotch. Mom was sliding her hot, foamy cunt lips right up over every inch of her son's cream-covered cock over and over again. It was time to end this "talking session" with that very big bang.

Karin's hands slid down his back and onto her son's ass, her fingers digging into his flesh as her lips sought his and his tongue slipped into her mouth, meeting hers. Karin felt her son's cock suddenly grew fatter and harder, making her gushing pussy feel like it would burst. "OH GOD!! OH GOD!!" she screamed. Another wave of pleasure exploded in her pussy, followed by a second torrent of her lotion. Stars and sparks burst before her eyes. Her own son's swelling cock was impaling her to her very womb, pinning her to the couch.

The dream was real, so real now for both of them. Brad gave a choking sound as he felt his balls suddenly contract and his cock balloon. Karin thrust her legs wide in the air to welcome her son's impending gift. That's when her son's body buckled and trembled. He shoved his cock in, all the way in, burrowing it into the hottest, wettest, deepest depths of his mother's sizzling, buttery pussy folds. There he abdicated, frozen still in the maddening flutters of excited Mother pussy. His flesh trembled. His ass cheeks quivered.

Sweat poured off his forehead, raining in rivulets all over his Mom's big, jiggling tits. Feeling her son's cock begin to jerk and twitch hard in her cunt, Karin hurriedly wrapped her long legs again around her boy's sweaty, bucking waist, squeezing him to her body in the ultimate display of maternal love.

That's when Brad let escape the long, pained groan he had hid in his wet dream but could hold back no more for his Mom: "OOOOOOOOHHH!!" His thing suddenly erupted inside his mother. Mother and son cried into each other's mouths. His cock gathered itself up again and again, unleashing its explosions. Torrents of hot, white cum squirted hard and into Mom's molten canal. Karin's eyes and mouth flashed wide open as she felt her son's hot seed flooding her insides.

Brad's cock was in full firing mode, hotly squirting volley after volley of his pent up cum deep into his beautiful mother's body. She was taking all of it, all of it, and more. Her pussy tunnel vibrated and undulated over his pulsing cock. And he filled up his Mom's love tunnel and womb with gobs of a sizzling goo, a son's thick soup of boiling, i****tuous cum. Karin's arms and legs squeezed him down into to her wet, hot body as she writhed, bucked, squirmed, and squealed wildly under his trembling weight, and her pussy swallowed every volley of his hot baby-making juice.

And it was an especially hot lotion spewing from Brad's son's fat, twitching cock. As Karin moaned, she rolled her convulsing cunt all around his squirting dick, adding her own juices and forcing the overflow up over her quivering pussy lips. A thick, gooey stew of pussy juice and cum from Mommy and son soon slid down the crack of her upturned ass.

Brad was moaning, triumphantly. He was doing it! He was really doing it! He was on top of his mother, his tongue in her mouth. He had his cock buried balls deep in Mom's pussy, firing away strand after milky strand of his hot cum. And when he opened his eyes, it was no dream, no shame, no substitute. It was his Mom! Brad loved it. He loved how incredible it felt Motherfucking his own Mom. When he admitted this to himself, he nailed his mother extra hard and finished emptying himself into every inch of her grasping, hot love canal.

And Karin felt every one of his scalding hot discharges. It was so wicked. It was so beautiful. She loved it. She loved every sinful second of it. She was living out every mother's secret fantasy: she was taking the perfect lover she helped create––her son–– right back into her pussy and into her womb, her own beautiful flesh and blood. She trembled, hissed, and wailed as her son's pulsing cock spent itself in her sweltering, receptive depths.

Brad rode out his cum on top of his mother, kissing her on the mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. His Mom's eyes rolled to the back in her head as her pussy absorbed load after scalding load. She sucked on his tongue like a baby, but her pussy sucked on his cock like the whore slut she had become for her son, swallowing up rope after rope of his goo right down her vaginal gullet.

After Brad finished shooting all of his sperm inside her pussy, he remained on top of Karin. He was exhausted. So was his mother. Thus the first time ended: His cock was in his mother's pussy and his tongue inside her mouth. That was absolutely the perfect ending, Karin and her son thought, to the most special "talk" ever: Brad had made Karin cum, using his son-cock on her mother-pussy.

AFTERMATH

Brad slowly but surely collapsed atop of his mother as the explosions subsided, his eyes tightly closed, Momentarily too spent to even pull his now shrinking dick out of his mother's love tunnel. The two were a wet, sweaty, exhausted heap of quivering flesh. They Momentarily sank into the couch, covered in the sheen of their exertions, redolent of the scents of their illicit and explosive lovemaking. Dazed, drained, and descending from the high of their cum, both quivered in the chill of the room and their nakedness to the world. It felt stunningly perfect. He was drained and she was filled in every sense of the word

But as his senses began to return, Brad started to think about the enormity of the sin he committed. Brad had fucked his own mother! Brad was a motherfucker!

Even more sinful, he had fucked her after she had an emotionally charged confrontation with his father. She had been vulnerable, and he took such sordid advantage of the situation and her. What had he done? He kept his eyes closed, afraid to face the world and his mother, having broke taboo, laws, challenged the gods––and fucked his own mother full of his cum.

He withdrew his dick from her and then rolled to his side. With no small effort, he forced his eyes open to face her. She wasn't mad. She wasn't shocked. She wasn't feeling at all guilty or shamed. Instead, she was smiling gently and contentedly at her son. Karin was glowing, her cheeks red and her long brown hair matted back in sweat over her shiny temple. Her eyes were glimmering a contented afterglow.

She shushed him quiet with a finger to his lips. She then gently pulled her son against her long, moist, naked body. He was again between her legs, unraveled from his back, lowered from the air, and spread in beautiful repose upon the couch. So Brad slipped into his afterglow, laying upon his mother's naked, dewy body, his shrunken cock squished up upon her gooey pussy lips, and resting his head between her big, fleshy tits. There they lay, Mom cooing softly her love for her precious, sexy son.

While she was babying him, the phone rang. Brad got up and went to answer it. It was his father, Jim. He wanted to know if Brad knew where his mother was, and if so, if she was alright. Brad stood naked by the table, the phone in his hand, his cock covered in his mother's cunt cream, and he looked over toward the couch.

"Oh, yes, Mom is here. She's doing alright, " Brad told his father. She was there, "alright," resting naked and peacefully, freshly fucked by her own son. She was lying peacefully with her big tits bare and her son's cum still in her pussy. Jim had no idea that as he was speaking with Brad on the phone, that very son's overflow cum and his own mother's pussy juice was sliding out of upturned pussy lips and running down the crack of a missing wife's ass to stain her very own son's couch.

Brad reassured his father. She was safe and had stayed at his apartment. Jim asked to speak with his wife. Brad told his father to wait; his mother had gotten up and went into the bedroom to lie down curl up under the covers. Brad brought the phone over to his resting mother. As she spoke a few terse words with her husband,

Brad became intensely aware of her nudity. His cock started to harden, right in front of his Mom. She sat up on the bed and crawled to the edge where her son was standing. As Brad took back the phone continued to fend off his father's enquiries, Karin took her two hands, cupped her son's hard cock and pulled it deep into her mouth.

The voice of his father faded into nowhere as the sweet hotness of his mother's mouth and her wicked snaking tongue sucked on her boy's now revived cock, commanding it to give up another outpouring of her son's love.

FIVE MONTHS LATER:

It had been at least two weeks since Karin had been able to visit her son at his apartment, and she was in an incredibly tense, aggravated mood. She hadn't been feeling all that well as of late, either, and that did nothing to improve her mood. Jim had to fly out on business that morning, and he wouldn't be back for another three days. Brad had come by to drive his dad to the airport, and he promised Jim that he would check in and perhaps stay with Mom. So where was Brad? The plane had taken off almost two hours ago.

Finally she heard Brad's car drive up in the driveway. When Brad came in, Karin was awaiting: "Where have you been? You said that you would be here over an hour ago!"

Brad responded sheepishly, "I'm sorry Mom. Dad was as disorganized as usual at the airport, and the traffic was nightmare going in"

Karin shot back, "It doesn't matter! You know this is a difficult time, even more so than usual with your father, and I haven't been feeling well." Mom certainly seemed a bit out of sorts these days, Brad thought.

He tried to calm her nerves by responding, "I know Mom, and I'm here, okay?"

Karin brusquely went upstairs toward the bedroom, and tersely asked the housekeeper, Maria, what she was still doing there. Brad went upstairs and called Maria over. "Look, my Mom's not been feeling her usual self; look, take this and you can go early. It's Friday; take the day off. My father won't be back until Monday afternoon, and Mom will be back at her office on Monday morning; you can come back then."

Karin awaited impatiently in her bedroom for Maria to leave. The fifteen minutes seemed like another fifteen years, but finally she heard Brad show her out. The house was suddenly quiet. Another five minutes. And then she heard her son bounding up the stairs and walking up toward the bedroom she shared with his father.

She was beginning to feel much better than she had this morning; she was feeling better with every step she heard coming toward her and her husband's bedroom. As she waited, Karin began. She let down her dark brown hair, which had been fixed up in a swirl at the back of her head. She was wearing an ankle length peasant dress that left her shoulders bared. Her full breasts, which were now larger than ever, jiggled provocatively under the thin fabric.

A narrow elastic band held the dress up over her breasts. There was another band drawing in her waist. She was barefoot. Her breathing was rapid as was her pulse. She stepped out of the bedroom to greet him.

"I missed you." Karin finally said. Brad added reassuringly, "I missed you, too." They kissed, chastely, as any proper mother and son. Then Karin began to interrogate her son: "Did everyone go?"

Brad replied, "Yes." Karin countered, "Did you lock all of the doors?" Brad responded in the positive, but Karin kept up with the thousand questions until Brad said with exasperated finality," Yes, Mom, yes, okay? Would you just trust me? Everything is just fine. I saw Dad get on board the airplane and I watched it take off."

Brad then placed his arm around her waist and gently but hurriedly guided her into the bedroom. He could feel the firmness of her body and its heat through her dress as she leaned her head against his, as she was lead in toward her marital bed, exactly where she had been waiting for so long to go.

They were both thoroughly ready. Brad held her close, feeling her big, spongy-sweet breasts against his chest. Her mouth was against his neck; her breath warm, moist; her lips brushing his exposed skin.

She moved her head back. Her brown eyes stared up into his; her lips bright red and hungry. He combed her dark bangs away from her eyes.

They had been lovers now for five months. But as in all extramarital affairs, Karin had to juggle her time with her husband and her hot young man. It had been two weeks since she last had a chance to sneak out visit him at his apartment in the dead of night. That's the night Brad awoke that evening to see his mother standing naked beside his bed; her clothes lying on the floor; the dark furry triangle of hair between her thighs; the fine, glistening outline of her slit. She would have son then, and she wanted him now.

He sat on the bed, at the place his father had been sleeping but a few hours earlier. Brad felt his cock swelling and palpitating against the clinging fabric of his bikini underwear under his jeans. Then he felt her hand touching, stroking, him there. She was squeezing lovingly as she was demandingly. She was telling him that she had a need, now more than ever, that he had to fulfill.

His fingers found the zipper tab and pulled it down to the small of her back. As he undid the hooks of her bra, he heard her sharp intake of breath. She moved closer, grinding her pelvis toward him.

One of her hands reached for his buckle while the other continued to massage his fully erect cock through the cloth of his jeans. Quickly, as she'd obviously performed the action many times before, she unzipped and pulled his jeans down. As he frantically unbuttoned his shirt, she quickly peeled off his tiny underwear. He felt the soft palm of her hand move around the swollen staff of his cock. She began pumping him sweetly. She was beginning to moan approvingly. So was he. She eagerly began kissing the muscular chest, murmuring hot, private words meant only for her son.

Kicking off his shoes, Brad swept them aside and his bikini underwear with his foot. He was naked. He was very hard, his cock was throbbing and oozing. Normally she would take his hard sweet flesh into her mouth, covering, caressing, tasting and cajoling it with her flickering tongue. He would work magic on her pussy and clit with his tongue and lips in just the same way. But it had been two weeks. The hunger too cruel to linger over appetizers.

He stood before his mother and suddenly jerked her dress completely down, letting it d**** on the floor around her feet. Only her bikini panties kept them from what he so desperately wanted and she so deeply needed.

She made tiny gasping sounds as he laid her down suddenly on her marriage bed. She pulled him down with her and they fell onto it, her arms encircling his neck. She caressed his face with lustful, needful kisses. She nipped at his lips with her teeth, sucking on his tongue and moaning hungrily, while he flicked his tongue over her lips. It was time. Again. He couldn't wait. She didn't want him to, either. He ripped the panties right down off her long, smooth legs. She gasped approvingly.

She lay all the way back on the bed, writhing naked and alluringly as he kneeled between her thighs, her big tits rising and falling with her hollow, hot breathing, and her dark haired pussy bush inviting in all of its sacred, maternal beauty. She wasn't going to wait any longer. She gripped his cock with both hands.

Sighing, she feverishly guided her son toward her now very steamy, slippery slit. He reached down toward the hot, frothing fountain between her long, luscious Mommy legs. She could feel the palm of his hand brush the glistening hairs of her dribbling cunt. Then she gasped sharply as his spit-moistened fingertips teased open her fat, wet pussy lips and rubbed her quivering clit.

Electric sensations suddenly raced from between her legs up to her big tits and right on throughout her body. She tensed with expectation and ecstasy.

She moved her Mommy legs farther apart. She raised and bended them back in hot invitation. He quickly accepted and slipped forward between her legs. She took his cock in her hand and held it against