Opedial Conquest free porn video

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i****t—a word that has extreme negative connotations. The image that most often comes about when the word is mentioned is that of a father forcing himself on his daughter. Any forcible sex act, especially done by a parent to a c***d, should result in the parent being punished in legal and non-legal ways.

This is a fantasy of consensual i****t between adults. It is intended for adults who are interested in reading about consensual sex between relatives. If this offends you, do not continue any further.

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“Success is something you gotta want,” the business class professor declared.

Peter smiled.

“It’s gotta be something you need!”

The good-looking college junior nodded his head.

“It’s gotta be something you want and need…to conquer and possess!!”

While listening to his professor, his mind was matching the words of his teacher to his own personal thoughts. The “success” and “it” was actually a woman.

I want…her. I need her. I want and need to conquer her…to possess her! To please her. To feel those magnificently large breasts yearning for attention. To taste that starving pussy, in all its pink and wet glory. To fuck this woman—on top, from behind—to enter her and hear her moan in long-forgotten pleasure and satisfaction. To take her heart. To make… her mine!

“If your competition isn’t delivering the goods, then it is your right to go in and take it from them. Show the customers you can provide a value-added product or service, and satisfy them.”

Yes, he isn’t delivering the goods. He hasn’t for a long time. He makes her very unsatisfied, unattended to, and unloved—physically, sexually, and emotionally. I can do better. I know I can do better! ‘Value-added product’—I got several. I have exactly seven inches of manhood which will add value to her luscious cunt and mouth. I have a tongue and lips which will add value to her neglected nipples and clit. Most of all, I have a heart which I want only her to possess—this is value beyond compare!

The “he” was Peter’s father. The “her” was his mother.

Over the past couple of years, the young man saw his father become so preoccupied with work and friends at the expense of his mother. The man, it appeared, intentionally made little-to-no time for his wife. This exasperated the son. Your wife looks like Demi Moore and you’d rather apply for unnecessary overtime or hang out with your bar buddies instead of spending time with her?! This boggled the 21 year-old’s mind. He loved both his parents, but he loved his mother more (as most boys do). Seeing what the son deemed was injustice brought upon his dad’s ignoring his mom caused Peter to love her even more than him.

Peter saw his mother, Valerie, as the perfect wife. She was faithful to her husband, adored him with physical signs of affection and loving playfulness. She took pride in her own part-time job and in maintaining the house. She was intelligent. Her personality was sweet. Her looks were stunning. Peter knew his mother was a raven-haired 42 year-old beauty whose figure put many of his co-ed classmates to shame. Initially Peter just viewed his mother’s beauty with a son’s natural pride. This changed six weeks ago.

It was the third week of August and the weather was hot. Humidity was surprisingly low but the heat was rising. Little did Peter know how hot it was really going to get, or what else would rise. He had planned to go out with his girlfriend. He walked the half-mile to her house when he saw her getting in the family sedan.

“Hey babe, where are you?”

“My boss called me. The other girl called out and he asked me to come in. Didn’t you get my text?”

D’oh! Peter’s cell phone was charging at home.

“No. I left my phone home.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she apologized demurely. “I’ll make it up to.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him, and slipped her tongue quickly into his mouth. At the same time, she brushed her crotch against his. She released her hold, winked, and then opened the car door.

“Bye.”

The car drove off.

Disappointed and now—thanks to her body motions—slightly horny, Peter turned around and sauntered back to his house. Along the way, the sun’s rays made him decide a dip in the pool was in order. He hoped his parents weren’t around so that he could bust a nut first. When he got close to home, he took the customary turn onto the pathway which led downward to the Cape Cod structure. He mused to himself that his house was literally off the beaten path.

After he locked the door and started toward the back of the house for the pool, the college student stopped in his tracks when he heard a low moan. Peter smiled to himself. He summarized his parents were getting it on the private deck which was adjacent to the pool.

“Ooohhhh, Alex.”

Hearing his father’s name called by his mother caused his smile to get wider.

“It’s about time, he spent quality time with Mom,” he concluded to himself.

Curiosity—and the still-lingering horniness—caused the young man to tip-toe toward the sunning deck. He got to the window overlooking the deck, figuring to take a quick peek at his folks fucking, wish he was doing that with his girlfriend, then make a hasty retreat to his room to spank his growing monkey. He leaned against the living room wall and stealthfully peered through the glass.

“Oh, shit!” was his mind’s first response. Then his jaw dropped.

On a sunning lounge was just his mother, Valerie. His buxom and beautiful mom was reclining on the lounger, in a royal blue bikini, eyes closed, and masturbating.

“Ohhhhh!” she swooned.

“Oh, shit,” he mentally repeated.

Valerie had both palms over the flimsy material of the bikini top which did a lousy job in covering her heaving breasts. She rubbed her tits, first on the top of the quivering globes and then underneath them. It was when she cupped them that Peter’s throat felt dry. He could see her hard nipples, poking through the blue fabric like mountain peaks. It always turned him on to see a woman’s excited nipples poke through clothes. The fact that this was his mother had no bearing on him. Her dedicated fingers were tweaking the pointy, fat nubs, rolling them and pulling on them through the top.

Eyes still closed, the brunette wetted her lips. “Mmmmm,” she appraised in between heavy breaths.

Peter’s view was now taken to below his mother’s waist, thanks to her undulating hips. They were your typical mature, flared hips. In the scant bikini bottom, the blue against her slightly tanned skin and their motions made the maternal hips look alluring. Her legs—long and sleek, and her feet—bare with red nail polish on the wiggling toes—were slightly parted, revealing the ultimate viewing pleasure. The eyes of the astonished son blinked repeatedly as he looked where he thought he’d never look, where he’d never think his pupils would be—locked onto his mother’s vagina. The parental sex was encased in the thin cloth—stretched in the thin cloth…and left nothing to the imagination in terms of Valerie’s condition.

“Fuck!” Peter yelled inside his head. A stain was prominently showing on the front of the panties portion of his mother’s bikini. He was now fully erect.

For a few more seconds, Valerie adored her needy boobs with both hands. The right one would soon let go of that breast and quickly descended as she cursed.

“Shit, Alex why aren’t you here when I am horny?!”

The X-rated admonishment jolted Peter out of his horny stupor. Her hand action returned him to the stupor in a nanosecond.

He started releasing a very low, “Ohhh,” and then failed to complete it as he seemed to loose his voice. Peter was taken back as his mother slid her hand under the waistband of the bikini bottoms, driving deep into the gusset, and began to feverishly rub her cunt.

First it was a circular motion. Then it was up and down. Next, under the bikini, she spread her labia. Then her fingers arched, tenting the fabric. Despite the thin veil, it was obvious that the mother was now finger-fucking herself. Her middle digit pumped in and out of her hot, hungry hole as her bent knees started to bounce. Her manipulation increased the growing wetness of her slit. She did this at the same time her other hand remained glued to her breast and nipple, lovingly tending to them. Her cute, painted toes—pointed diagonally in the air —curled.

The masturbating mom’s full facial lips formed an “O.” Initially she was silent. Then she exhaled a long, “Ohhhh!”

Peter was a big Kiss fan. Of their three drummers, his namesake was his favorite. In the 1975 live version of 100,000 Years, the original Catman did an amazing drum solo. Peter felt like his heart was beating faster than the drums in the song.

After almost a minute, Valerie opened her eyes at the same time she removed her hand from underneath her bikini bottoms and brought it to her face. She dreamily looked at the shiny palm and five fingers, the middle one being the shiniest. She put her hand to her nose, taking in a deep breath.

“Hmmmm!” she relished in smelling her own fresh musk.

Next she stuck the middle finger, the one most-coated with her love oils, into her mouth and greedily sucked it. She withdrew the finger with a resounding pop and then began to lick her palm and the other four fingers. In a matter of seconds, Valerie’s secretion had been laved off her hand and sent down her adoring throat.

“Tastes so good,” the overheating wife summarized hoarsely.

The son was astounded. As if his astonishment couldn’t increase, it did. Valerie, in almost a trance-like state, swayed her head letting her raven mane sexily fly through the air. At the same time she reached for the front ties on the bra portion of her bikini. She pulled the strings which held together the two cupping pieces of material and pushed out her chest. A piece of drool dropped from the corner of Peter’s mouth as he watched his gorgeous mother open her bikini top and release her large, bare breasts, thrusting them out and up into the afternoon sunlight. Both of her hands immediately began to fondle the freed tits, the stringy remains of the bikini top still hanging off her shoulders.

Somehow managing to keep verbally quiet Peter, upon seeing his mother’s naked breasts, responded within an “Awwww, wow!” in his mind. He knew his mom had a rack; he couldn’t help but notice. However, this was just the obvious, never viewed through sexually-charged eyes. Now the college student was in awe of Valerie’s mammaries. He believed them to be in the 38 inch range, slightly sagging but for the most part still very full. Her puffy areolas and upright nipples were now also visible to him, making him think that he had nursed and suckled on these two beautiful tips when he was an infant.

Valerie kneaded her breasts, over and over again. She kneaded…and was in need. Enthusiastically she caressed the pair of shaking globes. She tickled and gently pinched the teats. Her tongue licked her lips as she manually serviced her excited chest. Her hips undulated as the horny parent soared into ecstasy.

“Oh! Yeah! Hmmm. Yeah, feels so good!” she wantonly crooned, before craning her neck forward to allow her tongue to lave the hard nub she was bringing to her mouth. She licked it like a kitten, then kissed the nipple and areola, then returned to licking. Her hands released that breast to cup the other one and repeat the oral steps for adoring the new peak.

Releasing the breast, Valerie yelled, “Oh fuck!” She quickly dropped her hands between her still-spread thighs. Her left hand pulled aside the sopped bikini bottom toward the inner thigh, thus exposing unknowingly to her son her dewy, aching pussy. Her right hand began to work on the fevered sex. Peter in this moment saw his first mature cunt…and the most taboo cunt of all—his mother’s. The lips were pinkish and meaty. They were much meatier than his girlfriend’s. They were also moist…very moist. Peter repeatedly blinked, seeing the forbidden nectar seeping out of her actual hole unto the lounger. Above the swollen petals was a small patch of black hair—matted from the wetness.

Valerie moaned in decadent delight as the flats of her fingers caressed her pussy. “Ahhhhhhh!”

After some vigorous rubbing, she repeated what she did earlier: bringing her hand to her face, inhale her own scent—this time quicker than previously—and lick her juices off her hand, also faster. With the bikini panties pushed into her inner thigh, she tasted the one hand’s sticky reward while the other hand was busy tending to the vibrant twat. Then the tending hand went to the mouth while the previous one returned to the pubic region. All ten fingers caressed and spread. Both palms massaged. Secretion was savored. Valerie’s vagina was in erotic delight, leaking out further sap, while her whole being soared to the heights of arousal.

“Uggghhhhh!” the busty mother groaned as she did another repeat. Using the same middle finger, she once again finger-fucked herself, this time in plain sight of her son.

At the moment Valerie started to pump her finger in and out of her open pussy—quicker and needier than before, Peter also began his own pump. Throughout this entire illicit masturbatory scene provided by his mom, he never touched himself. He was now harder than titanium. When his mother’s bent finger began to frig rapidly in and out of her juicy cunt, he began to cum in his pants. His eyes, big as saucers, looked down at his tented jeans and couldn’t believe he was ejaculating into his underwear without having touched himself.

“Ahhhhh, yesssss!!!!” Valerie whorishly wailed, her MILFish shape bouncing up and down as her inserted finger was accomplishing its mission: bringing her to her orgasm. Unbeknownst to her this was occurring at the same time her son was also climaxing, thanks to her.

Peter wanted to verbally announce, like his mother, the arrival of his climax. But he literally bit his lip, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the unique experience of releasing his semen into his underwear.

“Yes! Yes! Oh, FUCKING Yesssss!” howled the orgasming stunner. It made Peter open his eyes and view once again his hot, horny and nearly naked mother pump her finger in and out of her spasming, teeming pussy while her luscious hips rolled like ocean waves and her huge knockers danced about.

When it was all over for her, Valerie laid down in the lounger, clutching the arm rests for support as her breathing and vitals returned to normal. So were Peter’s. He had just finished ejaculating the last of his hot load into his Calvin Klein’s, and knew the show was over. He needed to extricate himself from the area immediately and quietly. He tip-toed backward, occasionally looking over his shoulder to ensure he didn’t bump into anything. He reached the front door, carefully turned the handle to open the door, then slammed it shut.

“Anyone home?!”

A smile returned to his face as he heard the lounger sc**** against the deck pavement. He could picture his mom hurriedly moving to fix herself. The sc**** was followed by a second or two of silence, and then a worried-sounding response.

“Hi, Petey! I, I thought you were going out with Amy.”

Standing in place, he yelled back, “She got called to work. I didn’t see her text. I am going upstairs to check my email and then hit the pool.” He figured to give her some time to gather herself together.

“Sounds good.” There was relief in the tone of her voice.

Peter scampered up the steps, his now-deflated penis swaying in his collected muck. Before he entered his room, he retrieved from the bathroom an immense roll of toilet paper from the dispenser. He closed his bedroom door and laughed to himself. He started masturbating when he was 15 and during those six years never came inside his underwear. He took off his jeans and then seemed to marvel at the load in his CK’s. He doubted he ever came that much with his current girl or the previous one. He stripped off the ruined jockeys, threw them in the garbage-bagged waste basket, cleaned his cock and balls with the toilet paper, and then threw the toilet paper into the basket. He replaced the trash bag with a new one and threw the now-knotted previous bag into his closet.

Good thing I have an early class tomorrow he bemused to himself. These will come with me and get thrown in the campus dumpster.

As he donned his swim trunks, he heard the bathroom door open and close. The sound of the shower soon followed. He knew his mother was in there. Peter left his room, passing by the bathroom with a wicked grin. When he got to the deck, he saw the lounger she had been on. He looked around to make sure no one could see him, even though the deck was private and the bathroom window faced the other side. He bent forward to inspect the lounger. There was no visual evidence of the maternal orgasm, but his nostrils twitched. He inhaled. The devilish grin reappeared. He was about to lick the seat but a pang of guilt hit him. He straightened up and headed for the edge of the pool. He felt very guilty for watching his mother play with herself, for sniffing the lounger and almost taste-testing it. Before he dove in, he recognized that he and his mother had something in common, his guilt not withstanding. They both loved the smell of her excited cunt.

The memory of that afternoon was burned into Peter’s memory like a copied CD. The guilt came and went over the next few days. When it was present, its severity ranged. But other, new feelings and thoughts were being born. They centered around two topics: his mother, and his parents’ marriage. He had to come with grips that he no longer saw his mother, figuratively and literally, the same again. She was still ‘mom,’ but her inherent womanliness and attractiveness were made evident. Her womanliness, attractiveness—and sexuality—became a thought process and an awareness of Peter’s. Valerie could be standing before him in a parka, wool cap, scarf and mittens—he now knew what was under all that clothing. He never considered before or wanted to know what his mother looked like without clothes. Now? While he felt incredible guilt, he also felt a little curiosity, a little…want, to see her nude form again. But this was mom. But she’s hot, and obviously horny. It bothered him…yet enticed him, ever so slightly.

In terms of his parents’ marital relationship, Peter knew there was a big problem. His father was preoccupied with other things, putting his devoted spouse in second—sometimes third—place. This was obvious in “routine” things like forgetting her birthday (but remembering Happy Hour after work on Fridays). However, after seeing his mother pleasure herself while wishing her husband was doing the pleasuring, Peter deemed his parents’ marriage was really in trouble. He couldn’t be 100% sure but he didn’t think either of them was cheating, though it seemed that eventually, because of being ignored on all fronts especially the sexual one, she would be the first to cheat.

The son quickly concluded that his father was a major dick for what he was doing to Valerie. He felt that way before that fateful afternoon. He felt even more so after it. Peter only had two girlfriends in his life: the current and previous one. The previous one had dumped him, after he spent his teens with a low self-image when it came to women. So he couldn’t fathom his father. The man was married to a woman who looked so much like the Striptease actress, at the time of the film, and he preferred spending time and money on his barfly buddies?! Now that he saw his mother virtually naked and obviously sexually neglected, he was absolutely dumbfounded with his dad.

A little over a week after Peter spied on his mother’s pornographic performance and he was mentally drifting off in business class, a decisive thought came to mind.

If Mom was my wife, I would lick and dick her every day of the week, twice on Saturday.

The thought jolted the young man. Did I just mentally say that I wanted to eat out and fuck my own mother? Thankfully the class was over as his cerebral inquiry was offset by the sound of the other students getting out of their seats and chatter amongst themselves.

Dinner was late that night because his dad came home late. As the three of them ate at the table pretty much in silence, Peter looked individually at his parents. He had one word for each, and a sentiment about the one word. For his father, it was ‘douche;’ the feeling was justification. For his mother, it was ‘MILF;’ the feeling was guilt.

Later on the young college student, in an effort to get his mind off of things, settled comfortably onto the couch to watch the Miami Heat on the living room’s 70” LED. At the start of the second quarter, he heard his parents upstairs talking. Actually it was arguing. He got up and walked to the stairs to hear better.

“Why not now?” she asked, almost pleading.

“Would you be quiet? Peter’s downstairs. He could hear us.”

“He’s watching the Heat and you know how zoned how he gets when watches the game. Now, speaking of heat—I’m in heat.”

Peter blinked when he heard this from his mother.

“Oh, Val. Please” his father said.

“Well…why not now?” she repeated.

“BECAUSE, I am exhausted. Do you know what time I came home tonight?”

“Oh sure. How long were you at O’Leary’s with the boys before your hunger pains got the better of you?”

Zing! thought Peter. Nice comeback, Mom.

“Fuck you!” his father barked.

“Fuck you, too!”

The son’s head jumped back when he heard the mutual cursing. Then he heard the bed squeak a little, soon followed by the bathroom door opening and closing loudly. He knew his mother left the bedroom for the bathroom. Peter returned to the couch and the game. He was watching the action but he wasn’t concentrating. He felt bad for his mom. The image of her on the lounger returned. He now felt anger and amazement at his father. He made an effort to get back into the game.

After almost 15 minutes, it dawned on Peter that he didn’t hear the bathroom door open again signifying that his mother finished her shower. Putting on her make-up? She took a year and a day. Showering? She was done in no more than five minutes. He wondered what was going on. He returned to the bottom of the stairs and listened. The only thing he could hear clearly was the sound of his father snoring, which was similar to a tracker-trailer downshifting on the highway. Peter crept up the stairs. He could now hear the shower. He padded to the bathroom door, putting his ear to the door.

A low sounding “Ohhh” could be distinguished from within the running water. Peter knew his mom was masturbating in the shower. Once again, the scalding-hot image of her on the lounger doing the same thing returned to his mind. He tried to block the image but another moan from within the bathroom kept the porno memory going. He swallowed hard. His brain was Photoshopping her beautiful body, now without the bikini remnants and completely naked, in the shower doing the same self-pleasuring. His penis was becoming engorged. He closed his eyes and gently rested his head against the door, (1) to steady himself, and (2) to hear more maternal masturbatory audio. He got more.

“Aaahhhh!”

His prick was three-quarters completely hard.

The son remained leaning against the door for a few more seconds. He wasn’t sure what to do. His thinking was scrambled. The inside of his head felt like the spin cycle on a washing machine. He made a decision. He opened his eyes, lifted his head and moved away from the door.

Peter gently turned the bathroom door and entered. He was nude. He looked at the shower. Through the closed, frosted door and descending water he saw the curvy shape of his mother. One knee was bent to the side and a hand was between her thighs. The other arm was also bent, with that hand rubbing a breast.

“Uuugghhhhh!” she groaned.

The young dick, now at full mast, twitched at the orgasmic sound. He moved forward, reaching for the shower door. He smoothly opened the door. Before Valerie opened her eyes at the unexpected sound, Peter quickly visually took in the incredible sight before him. His foxy mother, naked, masturbating in the shower, was breathtaking! The shower had completed soaked her black hair—along with her pubic hair—and steadily cascaded down her sumptuous body. The water gave her big tits, puffed nipples, relatively thin waist, curvy hips, long spread legs, and distended labia a sexy sheen. Her lovely face displayed such hot urgency as one hand was massaging a tit and the fingers of the other one were waving over her inflamed clit.

Awoken from her erotic daze by the noise of the sliding shower door, Valerie exclaimed, “Peter!”

The startled mother saw her only c***d, who had just opened the shower door while she was playing with herself, standing before her…naked as she. Just as he rapidly visually absorbed her body, she couldn’t help but do the same. His chest was fairly chiseled from his frequent gym visits. It was also pretty hairy, thanks to their Italian heritage. His arms were well-formed as were his thighs. Of course, what got her attention was his genitals. She hadn’t seen these since he “graduated” from Pampers. Before her, pointing at her, was a lustrous and solid cock--her son’s cock. The length was impressive, with a thick blue vein and bulbous top. Below it was two large and hefty testicles. Above it all was black, curly pubic hair. Seeing this luxurious package of young manhood caused Valerie’s hands to involuntarily squeeze the breast and flick the clit.

His unexpected action along with her unexpected manual reactions and the gravity of the situation made her drop her hands to her sides and look at him square in the eyes.

“Peter! What are you doing here?!”

A confident smile appeared as he brought his right index finger to his lips and he uttered the ubiquitous, “Shhh.” He lifted a leg to enter the shower. This caused Valerie’s eyes to return to his groin, watching as his leg motion caused his captivating balls to jingle and his splendid erection to bob. Once again Valerie was surprised at her bodily reaction as she stepped to the side to allow Peter to join her in the shower. He turned slightly to close the door. Her eyes went back to his face.

“Peter, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? Your father is—“ she was cut off as he turned to fully face her, his rigid member swinging back into view and thus causing her eyes to shift back down there. She was optically enraptured with her son’s hard-on. She heard him say “Shhh” again. It was this sound that made her over-stimulated and overworked eyes look again at his face.

He sure is handsome her mind blurted out. And hung like a horse.

Peter finished her statement, “…is out like a knockout.” He smiled. “Snoring like a busted chainsaw.” She chuckled, and returned the smile. Soon her grin disappeared while his remained, and looked confident. She appeared now a combination of puzzlement, wanting, unfilled masturbatory hunger, and knowing this whole moment was illicit.

It seemed like an eternity as the verbal silence between the two, mother and son, ensued. The only sound was the shower mixed with their shared, arduous breathing. They stood off to the side of the descending water. Their eyes were locked on each other. His dick was so hard it ached. His testes, brimming with rich cum, were taut. Her breasts were hoping for hands other than Valerie’s. He had interrupted her just as she was peaking. Her arousal had been interrupted, and then returned. Her swollen cunt lips throbbed and a new round of discharge was being released. She broke the silence.

“Peter, we can’t.”

“Mom, I saw you the other day on the sunning deck.”

She was stunned by this revelation.

“It was so fucking hot watching you play with yourself! I came—in my pants, and I didn’t even touch myself!”

Valerie’s dark brown eyes widened at this. Despite the fact that this was her son, after being ignored for so long by her husband she often wondered about her own attractiveness, let alone causing a man to cum without masturbating.

Peter continued. “YOU’RE so fucking hot, Mom!”

Despite the forbiddeness of the whole situation, the woman drank in the compliment. She continued to silently look at him. He continued.

“Dad’s an ass. He’d rather do overtime or hang out with his buddies than be with you. If I was him, I’d fuck you and eat you out every chance I got.”

This forbidden promise caused her nipples and vulva to tingle. It seemed like a century since Alex went down on her. And in terms of actual intercourse he was selfish, considering a race between her and him who would cum first more important. She remained quiet, sensing Peter had more to say.

“It’s not just sex, Mom. I want to be with you—in every way. I want to be the husband he’s not.”

Steady, Val, he’s touching your heart, her self-defenses warned.

“Your a beautiful woman. Beautiful on the outside and inside.”

I can’t remember the last time his father complimented me.

“I love you, Mom. Both as a mom…and as a woman.”

A tear slowly made its way out of her eye and down slid to her now quivering lips. He leaned into her to kiss her.

“Peter, this is in—“she couldn’t finish the word, or the attempt to stop his action. She couldn’t finish the statement because her son pressed his lips against hers and she responded. The ensuing kiss was long and sensual. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

After a few seconds, she grudgingly broke the kiss to place her lips next to his ear. “I love you, too, Peter. Both as my son…and as a man,” she whispered. Her lips reconnected with his, as she put her arms around his shoulders.

Valerie shivered as she felt his erect penis. It brushed against her stomach as they embraced in the kiss sequel. She looked down at his manhood. The penile head reminded her of a mushroom and the hole seemed to pulse at her. Peter also looked down, seeing his mom gaze at his staff. He felt a perverse sense of pride.

“Turn around, face the wall, place your hands on the tile, and spread those beautiful legs,” the son directed.

The mother smiled seductively and approvingly. She turned around so that her back faced Peter and pressed both her palms against the shower wall. She glanced over her shoulder at her studly son with a knowing look. She didn’t have to be told what to do next. She widened her stance and raised her ass. It stuck up in the air like a ripe peach.

Peter was in literal shock and awe at his mother’s butt. Her cheeks had just a slight streak of flab in them but other wise they were scrumptious-looking buns. They were full, curvy, and splayed to reveal her sodden—and forbidden—cunt. The lips were swollen and open.

“Mom, you have an ass and cunt to die for,” he summarized as he leaned inward to enter her.

Valerie opened her mouth to either laugh or say “Why thank you, dear son.” She wasn’t sure which was going to be her reply to the i****tuous compliment. Instead, she responded differently.

“Ugggghhhh!”

It was a primal, guttural moan, and the satisfying reaction to the initial penetration of Peter’s cock into her vagina. While he held her waist his “tip of the spear,” as the military says, penetrated her slowly. Only the top quarter of his manhood slipped into her slick, yearning crevice, but it made her spread feet get up on tippy toes and her palms press firmer against the shower wall. She sensed that he figured it had been a while since his father had ‘did’ her and he didn’t want to ram the whole thing in.

A caring lover—sweet. A caring, forbidden lover—priceless.

For the son, he felt as if his hardened penis was slowly plunging into a scorching, buttery world. He was commencing to fuck from behind his sex-starved, nude, gorgeous mother in the shower of their home, while his father was sound asleep. (The Ambien tablet he slipped into his father’s mouth before returning to the bathroom would definitely help.) Peter felt both elated and dizzy as his hard manhood seemed to be sucked down into her fiery furnace by her cunt’s own power and desire. This was inconceivable…and i****tuous. It was the i****t that made it inconceivable…and totally thrilling! It was his turn to moan.

“Aaarrgghhhh! Ohhhh, mom! You feel so FUCKING GOOD!”

Valerie, when she initially and joyously felt her son’s prick make it’s first-ever entrance into her snatch, was facing the wall. She looked at him over her shoulder and returned the accolade.

“You, too, baby! Oh, my sweet baby boy! Your big dick feels so good in mommy’s pussy!”

The randy lad pushed onward and inward. More of his luscious erection plowed into her syrupy cunt. It was just a matter of seconds before the college student had bottomed out.

The two grunted simultaneously when they felt the entire length of his fervent shaft, ably assisted by her flowing secretions, was completely inside her delirious slit. Peter, looking down at the small gyrations of Valerie’s ass, commenced giving his stunning mom the prized fucking she so deserved and needed.

Valerie wanted to scream but was afraid her husband would hear her. Instead she bit down on her lip. Peter saw this.

“Don’t worry. I put one of your Ambiens in Dad’s mouth before I came into the bathroom.”

Still biting her lip, her facial expression silently asked, “I can scream?” He nodded.

“Oooohhhhh, Peeeeter!”

He smiled, happy that she was happy she could be loud. He was also happy as he ratcheted up his thrusting motions and poured on the pounding.

Valerie look forward at the tiled wall and relished in the feeling…a dick bigger than her husband’s was lavishly working on pleasing her and her pussy. Her weeping hole provided the saturated traction this delicious slab of young male-meat keenly utilized to jab back and forth. The realization this was her son screwing her didn’t phase her. As her sugar walls rippled in delight along his ramrod and sensing that this was not only going to be a satisfying lay but unbelievable lay, she smiled to herself.

“Aaahhh! That’s it, sweety. Fuck mommy’s pussy! I need it so bad! Fuck your mother! Fuck me!” she heatedly cheered on.

Peter was only too happy to comply as he banged Valerie senseless. Loud, wet, and intentional slapping sounds echoed throughout the bathroom as parent and son humped in wild abandonment under the shower nozzle.

Soon, though, he had to hold off just a bit. The son knew it wouldn’t be long before he was going to cum. He really, really wanted her to peak first. He leaned in, removing his hands from her waist, and put them under her hanging, twirling breasts. Her shaky, hard nipples scratched his palms. His hands embraced his mother’s copious tits, caressing them repeatedly.

“Oh, yes, Petey! Squeeze mommy’s tits! It feels so good! Squeeze ‘em!”

Peter was besides himself. In addition to fucking his fine-looking mom from behind, he now was fondling her big, swinging breasts. Their weight in his hands, the erect nubs seemingly burning his palms—it was an incredible rush for him!

The son’s body signaled that it was about climax. He felt a little dejected because he wanted her to go first.

“I’m going to cum.”

Being his mother, even now in their illicit union, Valerie sensed by the tone of Peter’s voice there was something amiss. She looked back at him over her shoulder.

“What’s the matter, baby? Cum inside of me. You know I had my tubes tied.”

“No, that’s not it,” he stammered as he maintained his continuous plunging in and out of her glossy, velvety crevasse. “I wanted you to cum first.”

Valerie was taken back. He wanted me to cum first. Even now, in this forbidden fuck, he thinks of my pleasure first. What a doll! She smiled at him.

“Oh, Peter! Thank you,” she palpitated. “But you do it. You cum first. Cum into momma! I am right behind you.”

The hard-working son resumed his hold of her waist as his thrusted like a piston on Autopilot. Valerie’s cunt had been leaking pussy juice like the Exxon Valdez. Thus, the tempo of the wet slapping sounds increased. A few more seconds of pitching and catching, and then Peter roared and thrusted mightily.

“Aaarrrgghhhh! Mom, I’m cumming!”

The first of countless strands of thick, male milk bolted from his fast-moving dick into the responsive and electrified canal of Valerie’s sex.

“Oohhhhh, yes, Peter!” she wildly applauded.

The screaming of his own voice and his mother’s woke him up. Peter, was jolted from his sleep. He shook his head to in an effort to fully wake.

Wow! What an extremely hot dream.

The college k** shook his head a second time. This time it was an attempt to figure out what just happened, and what was happening. After he heard through the bathroom door his mother masturbating, he came back down stairs. Guilt had gotten the better of him, after he lingered at the door. He had remained—yet again— to hear his mom moan in self-pleasure within the sound of the running water. He got aroused—again. That’s when Guilt bitch-slapped him and he retreated to the living room couch. He tried to resume concentrating on the basketball game but he couldn’t. His young cock was stiff…thanks to his mother, a second time. His mind was heavy with conflicting thoughts. Eventually he fell asleep from the mental wear, and dreamt that he slipped his father an Ambien, disrobed in his room, returned to the bathroom, went in and fucked his horny and willing mother.

He was now pondering. His eyes were on the post-game wrap-up but he wasn’t concentrating on it. He could still hear his mother’s showery groans. His mind replayed the afternoon on the lounger. His pecker was rising again at the reviewed sound and sight. Guilt was giving way to a realization. Peter could not deny the fact that his mother had an incredibly hot body and he was cognizant—enjoyably—of this reality. He was starting to sexually desire his mother.
It greatly surprised him that the notion of maternal i****t did not bother him much. On the contrary, it seemed to feed into an obvious of loop of an attractive 40-something woman being sexually ignored by her husband and that Peter was keenly aware of this ignoring. It was inescapable. It was happening to his parents in his home.

While the sexual ignoring was so prominent in his mind, Peter also recalled emotional neglect on the part of his father. In addition to Alex frequently choosing bar buddies or volunteering for more work rather than spend time with the Mrs., there was Valerie’s birthday last year. She had been in the previous months talking—really wanting—to go to a new French restaurant called La Nuit. She figured/hoped Alex would take her there for her birthday. The morning of her birthday, Peter ducked out while his folks slept to get her a bouquet of flowers to go along with the decorative birthday card he bought. When he presented these two to his mother, she was overjoyed.

“Oh Peter, they’re beautiful!” she gushed.

The son felt happiness as he watched his mother lip-synch read the card. “…you’re the most wonderfully special mother…” She looked up at him with wide eyes. She appeared as if she was going to cry. She didn’t. Instead she hugged her son.

“Oh, thank you, Petey!” She gave him a big kiss on his cheek.

“You’re welcome, Mom.”

Not soon after his response, did Peter’s father walk in holding an envelope. To the young man, the presence of his father at that moment in the kitchen was akin to a raincloud appearing during a sunny picnic.

“Happy birthday, honey!” Alex said, offering her the envelope.

Peter saw a change in his mother’s facial expression. The genuine appreciativeness she showed him changed to feigned appreciation. She smiled.

“Thank you,” she replied, taking the card.

Alex took note of the flowers his wife had placed on the table.

“Nice touch, k**.”

His wife opened the envelope and looked at the card. The faintest sight of disappointment appeared in her eyes. She opened the card and money fell to the floor. It was two twenties and one ten. Alex quickly scooped it up and waved the bills in Peter’s face.

“Flowers die. But money?” he puffered.

Alex tossed the money on the table next to the flowers. Next he gently took hold of Valerie’s shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“We’ll leave for dinner at 5,” the father stated.

Valerie had been quiet, actually stunned, at the money/flower comparison. The look of disappointment was replaced by anticipation.

“We’re going to La Nuit?” she hoped.

“Hon, we’re Italian. We’re going to Olive Garden. Who wants to eat that sissy French stuff anyway?”

Alex turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

I do, a crestfallen Valerie said to herself.

Peter was beside himself. He could not believe his father. Then he looked at the front of the birthday card his father gave his mother. He was greatly surprised.

“Mom, isn’t that the same birthday card from last year?”

Valerie was a sentimentalist. She kept cards for memory sake. Apparently Alex found her stash and “recycled” the previous birthday card.

“Shhh, don’t say anything to him,” she admonished.

It was that night on the couch that Peter comprehended the following. His father was a complete idiot when it came to his wife. Peter loved his father, but hated what his dad was doing. He was ruining the marriage and it was just a matter of time before his mother strayed. He did not deserve the type of wife Valerie was. She was faithful, kind, witty, caring…and hotter than Hell. Peter had embraced two facts: (1) he found his mother sexually attractive, and (2) he wanted to fuck his mother. Make love to her. Eat her out. Everything. He was going to do it. The idea of i****t turned him incredibly. He also wanted to provide the emotional and non-sexual physical attention she so craved and deserved. Lastly, since he believed his mother would eventually cheat, divorce would be the end result anyway, and there would be heartache for everyone. Peter, the business majoring college student, decided to put his father out of business as Valerie’s husband by ending their marriage, sincerely and genuinely “rescue” her, and in due time take his place in her heart and in her bed!

One thing which worked in Peter’s favor was Valerie’s personality. His mother, even if she just suspected Alex was cheating, was not a ‘stand by your man’ type of woman. She would drop him like a bad habit. It didn’t take long for the son to come up a way to create the incident which would cause his mother to file for divorce. This was thanks to a second thing which worked in his favor: he and his father were the same clothes size. Peter smiled to himself.

The next day he called his girlfriend, Amy. “Hey babe, aren’t your folks going out this Saturday night.” He also asked if she had any of her bright red lipstick. The answer for both questions was “yes,” with a knowing chuckle.

That night Peter left his home, wearing a shirt for the first time, and went to Amy’s. They fucked like alley cats, all the while he imagined it was his mom he was banging and getting blown by. Early Sunday morning he returned home, depositing the shirt deep into the bathroom hamper under clothing already within. He got into his bed, drifting off to sleep wearing a devious smile. Sunday Valerie did the laundry.

“You sonofabitch!” The sound of his mother cursing awoke Peter.

He jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway where his parents were standing. His mother held the lip-stick stained shirt, shaking it hysterically in Alex’s face.

“What the fuck is this?” she screamed the question at her husband. He looked startled.

“It’s my shirt, but I don’t know how the lipstick got there.”

“It’s your shirt and there’s lipstick on the collar but you don’t know how it got there? Are you a fucking idiot or do you think I am?”

Peter displayed a shocked face. He was actually shocked—just a little. Being awakened by hearing his mom yelling and seeing her screaming at his father was slightly unnerving. In reality, he was grinning ear-to-ear inside.

“Honey, I would never cheat on you.” His statement seemed sincere. His wife, though, just rolled her eyes and shoved the portion of the collar which had the red splotch.

“Then what the hell is this—barbeque sauce?!”

Peter had to suppress a chuckle. Then he stepped into the ‘role.’

“Mom, Dad, what’s going on?”

The furious brunette swung her head fast in Peter’s direction, now showing him the ‘evidence.’

“Look at this!” she commanded her son. “Look at this! Lipstick on your father’s shirt collar!” Next she said in an extremely sarcastic tone, “And he doesn’t know how it got there.”

“I don’t!” Alex countered.

The son’s face became a mixture of surprise and disappointment. “Dad, how could you—cheat on Mom?” He had added “cheat on Mom” for good measure.

Valerie returned her enraged attention to her spouse, once again shaking the shirt at him. “You motherfucking prick!”

Peter had to bite his lip from the amusing irony. Motherfucking prick? Yes, my prick will be motherfucking in due time.

“Val—“Alex’s try at verbal self-defense was cut off by his wired wife.

“Shut the fuck up, Alex!” Valerie was ready to unload big-time on her beleaguered spouse. “Overtime, your beer buddies—I have for years played second fiddle to these, not to mention forgetting my birthday and our anniversary or doing these on the cheap. But this?” She flashed the lipstick stain in his face again. “This? No fucking way! Pack your bags and get out of this house.”

“But Valerie—“

“ALEX, PACK YOUR BAGS AND GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS HOUSE!!” Both males were overwhelmed at the volume and intensity of her statement. Even Peter stepped back.

Valerie threw the shirt to the floor, and glared at her defeated husband.

Alex didn’t say anything, though he really did not know how this all happened. He quietly walked into the bedroom, opened the closet to get out his suitcases and began to pack.

Peter actually felt bad for his father. Then he glanced at his mother. She was in a summer dress, hands on waist, and legs slightly spread. The left one was straight while the right hip was thrusted out to the side. It was a pissed-off stance, but the college student couldn’t help but admire the curve of the jutting hip, and the rising and falling of her massive chest as she angrily breathed. Peter felt his dick stirring and thought this would be his time to exit. He gave a shake of his head as if to show astonishment, and returned to his bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, Alex was carrying his two suitcases to the front door. He looked at his wife and son.

“I will be at The Doral.”

“Who cares where you will be?!” Valerie inquired through clenched teeth.

Alex looked at Peter. The son gave an irate ‘what the fuck did you?’ look back, standing next to his mother like a bodyguard.

The loser husband opened the door, walked out to his car, put the luggage in the trunk, and drove off. Mother and son stood side-by-side for about a minute, until she lost it. Valerie looked dejectedly at Peter and started to cry uncontrollably.

“Oh, Peter,” she sorrowfully commented, stepping in front of him and leaning into him. “He cheated on me! Your father cheated on me!”

He wrapped his arms around her, like a protective cocoon. She laid her head on his chest and wailed.

“I’m sorry, Mom” he soothingly replied.

“He cheated on me!” she repeated frequently during the substantial cry.

Peter felt like such a louse. He wasn’t upset at having started to end his parents’ marriage. He was upset with himself because he couldn’t help but notice how nice and soft his mother’s big breasts felt against him as he cradled her.

“There, there, Mom. Everything is going to be alright,” he comforted, another devilish grin on his face, unbeknownst to her as her face was now in his chest.

There were many, many nights like this in the next couple of months where Valerie, in Peter’s arms, sobbed uncontrollably. He comforted and cared for her. He doted on, spending all his non-school time with her. He eventually dumped Amy, telling Valerie she was becoming too possessive and that he’d rather spend his free time with her during this difficult period. The mother cried when he told her this; it was the first time she cried because of something good.

Peter became the perfect son. He helped out around the house, especially since Valerie had to go full-time at her job for weekly income. He didn’t give her trouble. He acquiesced to her requests. He held her when she cried. He offered positive reassurance that everything was going to be ok. He bought her flowers and little gifts. He loved doing it all. She also loved it. She had been greatly hurt, especially emotionally, and her son was the perfect balm for her wounded heart. One night she called him her “knight in shining armor.” This touched his heart. He enjoyed being there for her, and becoming the man in her life. He was falling deeper and deeper in love with his mother.

He still felt no remorse for causing his parents’ impending divorce. This is business, he surmised. Personal business. He had successfully dispatched his father from his mother’s life and was now positioning himself to take his place. First he would provide emotional first-aid. Then he would provide “physical” first-aid. He knew his mother had been sexually neglected, evidenced by her constant masturbation. In her current distress, he doubted her libido would be active. He—honestly—did not want to rush that. He was willing to wait when the time was right to begin seducing his mother. He had planned this from the start.

In the meantime, when she was at work and he was home he jerked off, fantasizing about Valerie. He remembered that afternoon on the deck, recalling her luscious body and her pornographic moans as she played with herself. He envisioned him tonguing her gash while she writhed in ecstasy, she kneeling before him and blowing him like a call girl, and her begging him to screw her like there was no tomorrow.


-- EIGHT MONTHS LATER--

Both Valerie and Peter were amazed at how fast the divorce judgment arrived. She sighed, because her marriage was officially over. He smiled, because now was the time to begin the seduction phase.

It was a Saturday night and the two were in what had become a usual situation: sitting together on the couch watching TV. They were curled up together. He had his arm around her, absentmindedly stroking her arm while she comfortably rested her head on his chest. He loved how they often found themselves like this at night. He relished how she nestled on him like a cat, the sweet sound and feel of her relaxed breathing reverberating off his chest.

“Mom,” he said shortly after changing from stroking her arm to stroking her head.

“Hmm,” she muttered, sounding like she was half in a daze and half asleep.

“Why don’t we take a vacation?” Peter suggested.

Valerie turned her head so that she was looking at him. Her face looked a c***d’s who just heard the ice cream truck bells.

She’s so pretty when she’s happy and smiling.

“Babe, that is a wonderful idea!” The nicknames “babe” and “honey” had just recently slipped into their dialogue and were frequently used to each other in the privacy of the house.

“Yeah. The idea hit me the other day when the judgment came in. You need a break—“

“WE need a break,” she interrupted. “Peter, you have given up your life to care for me since this whole nightmare started. I love you—you’re my son. But I will always love you, even more, for sacrificing your time to be with me now.”

Her eyes, locked on his, began to tear up. To him, they looked doe-like. A drop began a slow descent from the eyelid down her face. With his thumb, he flicked the tear away.

“I love you too, Mom. I am glad I could be here for you. You have done so much for me. I just want to be ‘there’ for you. I always will.”

Valerie started sniffling then caught herself. She wiped her face and eyes, propping herself up in his direction. She was smiling again.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I researched Anna Maria Island, in the Gulf of Mexico. We’ve never been there. We can get a bungalow. It’ll be by the beach, we could—“

Valerie was bouncing up and down merrily and clapping her hands. “Oh, Petey! That is wonderful! Sorry to cut you short, but I love the idea. I could put in for vacation.” Then she suddenly became dejected. “This is Spring Break. Wouldn’t you want to go someplace with your buddies and chase co-eds.”

He took her hand in his. “Mom, no I wouldn’t. I would rather spend my Spring Break with you. Besides you’re more beautiful than all the college co-eds combined.”

The compliment startled her. She liked it. She hadn’t heard a male compliment in eons. She put the flat of her other hand over her heart and looked appreciatively at him.

“Why thank you, honey.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Two weeks later they were on Anna Maria Island, walking into their bungalow which, thanks to Peter and the $100 “grease” he gave the resort manager, was far away from the rest of the lodgings. Valerie bugged out when she saw the floral arrangement of one dozen long-stemmed blue roses in a vase by the bed. She spun around to her son.

“For me?”

“Who else?” he confidently answered.

She flung her arms around him and tightly embraced him. She kissed him—on the lips. It was quick, and unintended.

“Oh, Peter, I am sorry” she said in embarrassment.

It actually surprised him. It also delighted him. He played it off. “No worries, Mom.”

She felt pardoned, and relieved. She went back to looking at the flowers.

“They’re beautiful,” she commended.

“So are you.”

Valerie looked back at her son, again with those doe-like eyes.

“Thank you, baby.”

After they unpacked and trekked around the resort, the two returned to the bungalow. They prepared for dinner. There were two bedrooms but only one bathroom. Peter let her take the first shower.

“Don’t use up all the water, will ya?” he quipped.

She playfully slapped his arm. “Smart ass.”

When Valerie finished her shower, she had to pass by his room to get to hers. Upon hearing the bathroom door open, Peter instinctively looked in that direction since he was next. He swallowed hard when he saw his mom walk by clothed only in a white terry cloth towel wrapped tightly around her smoking-hot body with her hair wet and wild-looking.

“Sorry,” she said with a grin, apologizing for him to having to see her like that.

The son was literally speechless. He heard her bedroom door close. He recalled what her body looked like from that afternoon on the deck and copied it into his current vision of her opening up and dropping the towel to the floor. He was glad she was in her room and would be unable to see him stroll to the bathroom with the growing hard-on in his jeans.

Peter was the first to finish getting dressed, donned in a polo shirt and slacks.

“Ma, you’re the typical woman—taking a year and a day to get ready.”

From within the still-closed bedroom door came, “Do you want to walk into the restaurant with teeth missing?”

Peter laughed. Then he turned around when he heard her door click open. Once again, he was mesmerized by Valerie.

She stood in the doorway wearing a casual yet elegant yellow dress with spaghetti straps. The dress had a modest slit in the front and, most of all, proved the beauty was not wearing a bra. The top portion was also modest, yet alluring, allowing only a fraction of the top of her cleavage to show. Her stiletto hells, also yellow, brought Valerie up to her son’s height.

“Wow! Mom, you are gorgeous.”

Blushing, she replied “Why thank you, son.”

After they locked the front door mother and son walked leisurely arm-in-arm to the resort restaurant.

The two dined on seafood, red-wine, flavored coffee, and chocolate cake. They conversed, laughed, and savored the moment and each other’s company. When they were ready to leave, Peter got up first to gentlemanly pull out Valerie’s chair. An elderly woman passing by noticed this.

“You are a lucky woman,” she said to Valerie.

Totally taken back, the mother responded with a surprised, “Thank you! Why do you say that?”

“Your boyfriend here is very courteous. Not many men nowadays are like that. Cherish him.” The old lady paused to smile, then continued. “He treasures you. I could see that when you two first walked in. You both make a lovely couple, and the love you have for one another is very obvious.” She paused again, and then bid them “goodnight.”

Peter and Valerie were both greatly taken back by the elderly lady’s words. They just looked at each other. She covered his hand, which had been resting on the table, with hers. More silence followed, and then they left the restaurant.

He guided them near the beach to walk along its edge back to the bungalow. It was a picturesque moonlit night. They had left the restaurant holding hands. There was continued silence between them. It was a ‘knowing’ silence. Their minds were racing, and their hearts were rapidly beat. No one would have guessed they were mother and son.

Peter now had his arm around her waist and Valerie rested her head on his shoulders. She sighed. He felt proud. They stopped to gaze at the shore and the moon’s reflection on the water. Then, at the same moment, they looked at each other. Her eyes were half-shut, looking dreamy. He could read in her eyes a mixture of natural love, unnatural love with a hint of lust, and a bit of apprehension. She saw in his eyes the same things except for the apprehension. In its place she saw confidence.

Valerie looked down, embarrassed. Peter put his hand under her chin and gently lifted it. He leaned his face into hers. She met it, and they kissed…on the lips. It was short and almost experimental. The pair of lips met again. This time it was slightly longer and less tentative. They parted, revealing increased breathing by both. The third kiss was drawn out, and no longer experimental; there was growing desire within it. Their arms went around each other. The embrace also grew intense.

The kiss became hotter. Wet lips slid over one another and the initial meeting of tongues between mother and son occurred. The hug now involved hands gliding over backs and sides and both rears getting hefty squeezes. This combo of intensive hugging and kissing caused a shiver in Valerie’s loins, her nipples becoming stiff, as well as the beginning stiffness of Peter’s crotch. It was when she first felt his growing erection brush her lower waist that she realized her panties had started becoming damp.

Halting the kiss, Peter advised, “Let’s get back to the bungalow.”

“Yeah,” she agreed in a raspy tone. “Let’s.”

Their walk was somewhat hurried. Peter and Valerie entered the bungalow. He locked the door; she turned on the light. They peered at each other, with hungry eyes. His vision took in the two hard nipples poking through the dress, while hers was on the bulge in the pants. Her panties were drenching, while his erection leaked precum into his briefs. There was no sound except for their heavy breathing, which was asthmatic-like.

Then, as if a movie director yelled, “Action,” mother and son lunged for each other. Their arms went around one another while their lips locked into a smoldering kiss. Their ravenous lips smacked together, one pair rolling against the other, with frequent pulling of the opposite’s lower lip. Their tongues also came out to play, frantically dueling in their mouths.

Peter moved them so that Valerie’s back was against the living room wall. The lip lock ceased to allow for more ragged breathing.

“Oh, Peter. You know we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s i****t,” she panted. The maternal commentary was an extremely feeble attempt at stopping the inevitable.

The college student, who was know planting deliberate kisses down her chest to the start of her cleavage, replied, “Well, you know what they say, mom?” He forcefully and quickly yanked down a spaghetti strap, which resulted in exposing one massive and heaving breast.

“Oh!” Valerie exclaimed at the unexpected but not unwanted exposure.

Peter couldn’t finish his own question. He was in erotic awe of his mother’s bare breast. It was large, with a puffy areola and hard nipple. He couldn’t believe it was right in front of him—there for the taking. He finally snapped out of his reverie, looked in Valerie’s eyes, and stated, “i****t is best.”

His mouth quickly dropped and enveloped the top portion of the taboo tit.

“Ahhh!” the horny mother exhaled, pushing her chest out, and tossing her head back against the wall.

Valerie cradled her son’s head in her arms as he initially focused on the pointy nipple. He suckled it, laved at it, and gently bit it, delivering sexual charges throughout the MILF’s body. Next his determined lips were concentrating on the breast itself, kissing it and licking the quivering flesh.

“Ohhhh, yeah! That’s it, Petey! Suck momma’s tit! Just like when you were a baby.”

She viewed him intently as his head swung round and round while he orally worshipped the fat breast and fat nipple.

Meanwhile, Peter’s hands were busy, gliding up and down Valerie’s back and finally landing on the fleshy curves of her ass. He squeezed the motioning rump through the dress. It was when he felt her panty lines that he decided to go south.

The randy offspring got down on his knees and leered at between his mother’s thighs. Her sex scent simmered through the dress and made his nostrils flare. He put his nose into the portion of the material which covered her pubic region. Valerie gasped. He looked up at her.

“Mom, you smell just like