Sons friends fuck his mother
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My Son’s Need Comes True free porn video
The last eight years had been strenuous for both of us. I had suddenly found myself all alone with a nine-year-old son after his father had left us in the lurch for a younger model with fairer hair than mine. The years had passed me by, sexually, and I became the mother, carer, the responsible adult, constantly looking after my son and watching him grow into a young man, a teenager.
He had grown up to be unsure of himself at times, and I did all that I could to give him the confidence he needed for his life ahead. His friends helped immensely, but I’m not sure that I did everything I could. He is still a shy person, unsure of how to take people at times, slow in assessing situations. Some would say withdrawn, but I wouldn't label him in that way, cautious around people, maybe.
I have more or less spent my life working to look after my son. No one had ever spent time looking after me and to be honest, I just didn't have the energy or time to look around for a new lover, though Brad could have done with a father figure, in hindsight. I just didn’t feel like a woman for most of the eight years that have passed. I certainly never felt sexy and eroticism was something I only read about now. Well, let’s face it, you wouldn’t feel sexy after the person you thought loved you, dumped you?
Brad and I are like friends as much as mother and son, we've had to be. There isn't a lot we don't talk about, except sex. We don’t talk about that, but I know the time will have to come. One day.
I’ve already had to tell him that he needs to close his bedroom door at night. I’ve seen him naked, what mother hasn't seen their son naked, but at his age, well, let's just say it surprised me. I’ve nearly caught him masturbating on more than one occasion and I’ve had to wash up the sticky remnants of his efforts when I’ve found his pants in the bottom of the laundry basket. At least he hasn't noticed that I do the same as him some nights, but then I hide the toys that I use in my deepest drawers.
So, I was surprised recently, when he went quiet on me. Conversations would start to dry up and things would get a little awkward. One minute there would be free-flowing speech, the next, silence. Not just silence, but I noticed deep frowning on his face, the sort that means he's pondering something serious. Long stares out of the window or into space. Looking down at the floor whilst helping me in the kitchen; he was a good cook and inventive.
I asked him once what was on his mind. All I got was the shake of his head and not a word until he was forced to say ‘nothing.’
I knew something was up. But I knew not to dig, not yet anyway.
His attitude continued in this manner for over a week. I was beside myself, becoming anxious about it. I was intrigued as to what had put him in this state and even more intrigued as to whether I could help him out of it. I wondered whether it was his schoolwork that was suffering or perhaps he was on the verge of his first girlfriend.
Yes, that had to be it. He had a girlfriend or fancied a girl from school. I couldn't help but smile to myself after that revelation hit me and I was sure going to help him through this difficult time.
The opportunity arose many times over dinner but it was difficult getting anything out of him that was revealing. Whilst I often started conversations about older women or young girls, they always dried up. But not after his face flushed once or twice. I knew I was on the right track so I kept digging, as mothers do.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, Brad, don't you,” I told him one evening.
“Yes, I know, mom,” he replied. I nodded reassuringly.
“Tell me,” I started with a spring in my voice, “how's the girlfriend front.”
“Umm, I don't have a girlfriend, mom.”
His hesitation didn't convince me, yet his words seemed honest and true. I made light of his remark as quickly as I could.
“A young man as handsome as you should have no trouble finding a girlfriend, you know.”
Brad just shrugged his shoulders but said nothing.
“You must have kissed a girl,” I continued.
Brad shook his head and started to look out the window, in one of his staring moments.
The doorbell rang and I quickly rose to answer it. It was Beverly, a friend of mine and Brad’s best friend’s mother bringing over some shopping that she had agreed to fetch for me from one of the larger, out of town superstores. I invited her in for a quick chat but she could see that we were eating and so didn't stay long. Making her excuses, she left as quickly as she had arrived. I did notice the smile she directed toward Brad and the soft touch on his shoulder as she walked past him after dropping the groceries on the kitchen worktops. After I saw her to the door, I returned to sit with Brad, her presence reminded me of his most recent sleepover at Bobby’s place. I decided to change the subject as the topic of girlfriends was getting me nowhere.
“How was the sleepover last week? You've not said much about it.”
“It was cool,” he said rather brightly.
“What did you two get up to?”
“Umm, not much.”
“You must have done something exciting?”
“Played some games, watched TV, not much really.” Brad was digging his fork into the food, shuffling it around rather than eating it. Something was on his mind.
“What games did you play?”
“Umm, card games, poker.”
“Poker, at your age!”
“Yeah, all the boys play it.”
I nodded knowingly. “What time did you get to sleep?”
“About two in the morning.”
“What were you doing until two in the morning?” I blurted out.
Brad went silent, his face flushed, he shoved a mouthful of food into his mouth, probably to stop him from talking and telling me what was on his mind. I let him finish his food before continuing.
“So, what were you doing until two in the morning?” I repeated.
“Mom, must we?”
All sorts of things went through my mind when I heard that reply. Maybe he wasn't at his friend's, maybe he was taking drugs and hiding it? Maybe he was with a girl somewhere else? Maybe he and Bobby were – was he gay?
I immediately stopped thinking about the permutations.
I looked into his eyes. They were red, and he looked almost on the verge of crying. I hadn't seen him like this in quite a while. It was like he was hiding a deep secret from me, his mother.
“Are you doing drugs, Brad?” I had to know the answer to that one at least.
“No, I would never do that,” he replied. It was quick, and to me, an honest answer.
I wasn't going to force it out of him. I held my hands up in front of me to let him know I was finished. I gathered up the dishes and walked them to the dishwasher.
“It’s okay, you can tell me when you're ready. If you want to.”
I left the conversation there and switched the TV on for an hour before heading off to bed. To say I was worried about Brad was an understatement. For the first time in the last eight years, this was the first time we had not talked openly and honestly. It worried me deeply.
ooOoo
It was three days later that the ice broke and little pieces of information were revealed bit by bit. Brad started talking about whether it was right for younger men to be attracted to older women. I parked the possibilities and continued to have a sensible mother-son chat about relationships and what they meant, about why nothing was wrong as such, but how some people would frown upon it. I tried to be grown-up about the questions he pushed to me. All very sensible and all very inquisitive, as teenagers are.
The following morning, Beverly knocked on the door to pick Brad up for a baseball game. I watched him climb in the backseat with Bobby and waved them goodbye. Halfway through my chores, I decided that I should, for once, stop working and go see my son play baseball. I looked up the fixtures for the local club but could not see any scheduled game for this weekend. My mind started to ponder. A very dangerous thing to do without all the evidence. And where was that evidence pointing, I had to wonder?
At six that evening, Brad walked through the door. I had prepared dinner because I always did after he came home from a hard game. Only one thing was different, I had already downed a few glasses of red wine; something a mother with lot’s on her mind shouldn’t do.
We sat down, we chatted and he told me all about the game. How he and Bobby both scored home runs, how they had eventually won, and how good the burgers were.
I smiled and listened to him while sipping my fourth glass of red.
“S'funny,” I slurred, “I can believe how good the burgers were, but the game...” I wagged my finger at him. He looked dumbfounded. Astounded that I didn't believe him. He looked scared.
“I – I actually looked online for the game so that I could come and see you play,” I said.
I looked into his eyes. Brad stared at the dinner plate. I sipped more wine while grinning at my son over the rim of the glass.
He pushed the chair back, toppling it over and stood up quickly before rushing upstairs to his room.
I had certainly hit a nerve, but let him go. My thoughts caught up with me. What would drive him to do that? He left the house with Bobby and Beverley, so what would cause him to lie?
I was slowly coming to conclusions that I didn't want to come to. I needed answers to questions that I was afraid to utter and Brad was locked in his room.
I must have waited a good few hours while only drinking one more glass of wine. I heard his door open and I eventually walked upstairs to bed, thinking I would get a chance to bump into him in the hallway. I didn't. So, I opened his door and looked inside, Brad was sitting on the bed, legs curled to his chest, head buried between his knees.
I entered his room and sat down in the chair.
“Want to tell me about it?” I asked.
There was silence at first, then a sigh and a deep intake of breath.
“Don’t know where to start,” he offered.
“How about the beginning,” I offered.
He huffed loudly.
“I went over to Mrs Robertsons and we had sex.”
There it was, the confession, the older woman younger man conversation we had at dinner earlier in the week. I nodded knowingly and sympathetically; my tongue scraping against my teeth as I nodded.
“Was this the first time?”
Brad shook his head. “The first time was the sleepover night.”
Yes, he as up until two in the morning, I thought to myself. Everything was coming together.
“We did play poker,” he smiled, “strip poker and she lost so had to forfeit.”
I nodded, understanding the game that could have come across as innocent, yet wasn’t.
“And where was Bobby when this was going on?”
“It was Bobby that suggested it. It was Bobby that dragged his mom to the table to play in the first place, telling me it would be fun.”
“So, you won, Bev lost and then you and Bev went upstairs?” I questioned.
Brad nodded but lowered his head. There was more to this tale, I could tell.
“Is that what happened, Brad?”
He nodded and then shook his head, “Bobby came too,” he added.
My eyes flung wide open. And Bobby too. Did he say those words?
“Bobby too...” I said and waited with bated breath.
Brad nodded. “We all climbed into bed together. Mrs Robertson was smiling and stroking both of us as we removed the remainder of our clothes. Socks and pants, that was all that we had on.”
I nodded in silence. Words were stuck in my throat my nothing came out. A part of me was astounded at this revelation, a part of me annoyed at Bev for stealing my son’s virginity, and a part of me was getting aroused by this tale. This confession wasn’t so much about Brad and Bev anymore it was far more sinister than that.
I just looked at Brad, curled up on the bed in an upright fetal position, hiding his face as best he could as he mumbled out his confession.
“And yesterday? Three was no game was there?”
Brad shook his head once more. “We went over to their house, Mrs Robertson stripped my clothes from me as we kissed almost as soon as we were inside their house. By the time we got to the bedroom, Bobby was on the bed, naked, waiting for us.”
“What did Bev do when she saw Bobby on the bed?” It was a stupid question but I had become desperate to know what the answer would be. I wanted Brad to tell me in no uncertain terms what she did.
“She pulled me into the room, just by holding my cock and told me what a nice sight it was to see Bobby ready for her. She told me to sit next to him which I did.”
My eyes were searching his for more information but he avoided my stare.
“And...”
My need to know had become even greater. Brad was not to know, but my heart was thumping in my chest. I was barely controlling my breathing and I could feel my knickers get wet with the anticipation.
“Mrs Robertson...”
“Call her Bev or Beverly, Brad. I think it's a little too late to be so formal,” I said interrupting him.
“Beverley climbed onto Bobby and put his dick inside her. She turned to me and asked whether I liked watching her do it.”
That was what I needed to know. I needed to know that it was Bev that took control, but his words hid even more information. He wasn't telling me all of it and I as I struggled to stop my hand from reaching for my pussy I asked the one question that would drag it out of him.
“And...did you?”
Brad nodded, and with that, my nipples immediately stiffen. I had heard enough for now and I stood to leave.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said, “it was the right thing to do. We shouldn't have any secrets in this house and certainly not big ones like that. I need to think about what you have just told me. It’s a lot to take in. But, whatever you do, do not mention this to Bobby or Bev for now, okay.”
I tried to look into his eyes and he eventually looked up at me.
“Am I grounded, am I in trouble?”
It was my turn to shake my head as I left his room. It wasn't his fault at all. For the last eight years, he'd been lacking a father figure and if anything, that was my fault.
I reached my bedroom in a bit of a state. I didn’t even bother to strip my clothes off and immediately rummaged around in my bottom drawer. I pulled it out, all nine inches of it. I pushed my knickers to one side and pushed my toy into my sodden cunt. I laid back against the headboard and started thrusting. Not once did I think of my son or what he had done. Not once did I blame Bev. No, the only thought racing through my head was Bobby fucking his mother or Bev fucking her son. I could imagine Bobby, a strapping lad with a very nice physique, splaying her legs apart and fucking his cock into her. That image in my head was as vivid as if they were in front of me.
I came hard, so hard in fact, I wet the duvet, soaked it. I was shaking by the end of my climax. Not so much from the actual orgasm, but from the intensity of my thoughts. Thoughts of incest. Not the thinking of them but for actually condoning the actions of Bev and Bobby.
My thoughts eventually drifted to Brad. What must he be thinking right now? How would he be feeling? What effect has this had on him?
ooOoo
The following morning, I did three things: got up early to make Brad a nice breakfast, phoned Bev to arrange a night out for that evening, just us girls, and took my son breakfast in bed. He was shocked to see me enter his room with a tray full of bacon, waffles and maple syrup with orange juice. I reiterated that he had done nothing wrong. Reassured him that everything would be okay but that he should not tell Bobby or Bev anything about the previous night. I hoped he would honour that agreement because I needed a chat with her. A serious chat.
That evening I told Brad that I was going out, but not who I was seeing. I told him that his dinner would have to be a microwave meal. His face almost lit up at the thought.
I left at seven in the evening and picked Bev up at about seven-thirty before heading out for a meal. The evening was all in my favour. We were laughing and joking up to the point when I asked her about the baseball match. The lies flowed freely but she could see by the smile on my face that something was up. I told her that I knew. I told her what Brad had told me about her fucking my son and then I asked her about her and Bobby. I wanted to know how it all started.
Bev sighed heavily and asked that I not judge her for her actions. The explanation flowed so freely like it was a heavy weight that had been lifted from her very soul. I suppose it must have been hard carrying that knowledge around with you during the day while chatting to all the prim and proper mothers that would have bitten her head off had they known. I could almost feel her anxiety and relief at telling me all about it. At first, intrigue got the better of me, but as the explanation developed I started to feel sympathy for her, it was a sad story.
By the end of it, I felt sorry for Bev more than anything because I had those same feelings of insecurity and worthlessness. Every time she paused at a particularly revealing titbit, I had to prompt her, but it all came out. Every last morsel. I wasn't at all shocked and remained indifferent until the end. The end of her speech set me back. It wasn't the fact that she described the double penetration rather succinctly. No, it was what she told me about what Brad had said at the time that he was balls deep in her anus.
I looked at her as if I were a hedgehog staring into the bright lights of an oncoming car. A car that I didn't even know was even close to me. I suddenly held out my hand to touch hers across the table. We stared at each other for a while before I told her that I would not let our friendship be spoiled by this confession. I could see that Bev appreciated that. Relief flooded over her. Her shoulders relaxed but she didn't say anything until I leaned across the table to ask her who was the better fuck.
Bev laughed so loudly letting out an innuendo about how hard that was to decide. The whole restaurant must have heard her.
By the end of the evening it was as if we were girly friends again and after dropping her off, I told Bev not to worry. That her secret was safe with me as long as she revealed some naughty titbits now and then. She agreed.
The thirty-minute drive home was torturous as I was left with my thoughts and actions.
My mind dwelled on certain scenes that Bev had painted with such accuracy, especially the time when she described how she found out that Bobby was watching mother-son porn videos on the internet and how it was Bobby that encouraged Brad to join in their fun by suggesting that Brad could play with his mother's breasts while on the sleepover; matter-of-fact telling him that she wouldn’t mind. Of course, she wouldn’t mind if it meant a second rampant cock to play with. The night unfolded very differently for all of them but I was convinced that Bev had not been the innocent party in all of this. I was thankful that Bev and my son had only been together a few times, at least it hadn’t been happening for months on end.
I couldn’t get the image of how Bev seduced her son once she knew his mind. All sorts of filth entered my head on the drive home. I felt a knot in my stomach on several occasions as my breath caught in my throat. I must have called Bev a slut more than once and yet, and yet I pulled over onto the verge to adjust my clothing before driving the rest of the way home. My hand found itself between my thighs and a finger or two played with my slit as I drove ever onwards. My thoughts were all over the place. I didn’t know what I was going to do once I had opened that door.
I parked the car and walked up to the front door. A flicker of light caught my attention from the kitchen.
I entered the lounge and came face to face with Brad coming from the kitchen. Our eyes met. He said nothing and neither did I. We just looked at each other until finally, he spoke.
“You’ve been out with Bev?” It was a statement masquerading as a question.
I nodded. “We had a bit of a chat,” I told him, “a long chat.”
He nodded realising what it was all about.
My heart was pounding in my chest. My hands were shaking. My lips quivering and my eyes closed momentarily.
“Sit down in the chair,” I told him. He sat down and awaited the long mother-son chat that was about to take place.
I sat opposite him, in the middle of the sofa. We looked at each other.
“Mom – ” he started.
“Shhh, don’t say anything, just keep quiet,” I told him.
I looked into his eyes and Brad returned my stare. I couldn’t believe what was going through my head. I couldn’t speak because if I did it would have come out as a squeak. My mind was racing with the thoughts of Bev and Bobby and what she had told me. Those very last words she spoke echoed in my head and wouldn’t go away.
I swallowed hard before I raised my hand to my neck. I started to unbutton my dress. It was fortuitous that I had chosen a dress that buttoned up the front but it was deliberate that I had removed my bra and knickers in the layby on the way home. Yes, that was a very deliberate move on my part. I unclipped the second button and moved to the third. I could see Brad staring at me. His eyes had moved from mine and followed my hand as it snaked down my dress. Button after button allowed my garment to fall slowly to either side of my burgeoning breasts. Breasts that now heaved with excitement and uncertainty as to what I was doing. I fully expected myself to stop and run upstairs to my room, embarrassed at what I had started, but I didn’t.
My hand had reached the end of its journey and prised both halves of my dress apart. Brad stared directly at my breasts and then into the cleavage that I had formed by pushing my ample breasts together. A cleavage that I knew Bev didn’t have. My pussy was on heat. I could feel my juices seep out of me. I slipped my right arm out of the dress and then my left before pushing it off my shoulders and letting it drop to the sofa.
With my hands back on my breasts and pushing them together, I once more looked at Brad. He didn’t return my stare. He seemed transfixed on what I had between my hands. Something had tented his shorts. I pulled on both of my nipples as I watched him take in the view. Oh! If Bev could see me now, I thought.
“You look a bit overdressed,” I said, at last, thankful that my voice was smooth and consistent.
Brad nodded but didn’t take his eyes off me.
“Well?”
He finally looked into my eyes before standing up. I watched him pull his t-shirt over his head and discard it on the chair behind him. I watched intently as his thumbs caught the waistband of his shorts and I watched him push them down to his knees. As they fell to the floor, Brad stood upright. I opened my legs to let his gaze fall onto my hairy sex.
His cock sprung upright as he watched his wanton mother expose herself to her own son. I had never thought that my larger than average ass or big breasts or short legs would have that effect on a seventeen-year-old boy, least of all my son. Yes, I was attractive, or so I had been told, and my body was not all that bad – not really, but to think a young man would be interested – well?
He took one step forward and stopped. His cock swung wildly from side to side. I slid my hand down my tummy and allowed a finger to slip into my pussy, showing him that it was where I wanted him to be right now. I spread my legs a little wider pulling them up onto the sofa. I motioned him with my finger.
Brad walked towards me. I was on heat watching his rampant cock swing as he walked. I couldn’t believe what I was doing. I was playing with myself in front of my son, but much more than that. I knew that my actions were those of conscious thought, my actions, my choice. I knew it was wrong and yet I was going to do it. I was going to take my own son’s cock into my cunt and I was going to come all over it. Soak it with my juices, make him lose himself in my pleasure playground and I knew that he was going to add his saltiness to the mix.
“Kneel,” I told him.
Brad knelt between my thighs and I opened my arms to him. He fell between them and for the first time in eight years I felt a mouth around my nipple sucking on it. Hands came up on either side of my breasts and I felt them being mauled and squeezed. My own hands came up on the sides of Brad’s head as I reveled in his actions. His mouth darted from one nipple to the next. Each one being sucked in turn before moving to the other.
I felt like a horny woman again. Alive. Feeling. Wanting. Needing.
It had been too long and now my son was pleasing me as any other man could have. I didn’t care, this felt so fucking right.
I let him drool over my breasts for as long as he needed to but the fire in my belly was growing wild. I needed his touch down there and I knew exactly what I craved at that moment. I lifted Brad’s face to meet mine and we kissed. It was passionate, forceful; like we had been lovers that had been apart for far too long. I pushed him backwards and firmly guided his head to where I wanted it to go. He got the message pretty quickly. I smiled and silently praised Bev for teaching him.
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Vicky
- 20.03.2021
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- Incest
