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Fun with my Son

Categories Diary, Incest, Mature

Author: tonysex23

Published: 20 September 2018

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I want to tell you about my son Donny. I guess I brought the whole thing on myself, but I don't regret what I did. Especially after what I found out. In truth, it's kinda funny.

I was downstairs in the laundry room, out back, washing clothes. Our weekly wash. I heard the front door open and that little bitch Cindy creep in. I craned my neck to see her, but she scampered up the stairs before I could get a glimpse. She went straight up to Donny's bedroom without so much as a 'Good Morning', as usual. My son deserves better than her, but of course I can't say so. I looked out the window at the yard. It was sunny and very windy, our scrubby dogwoods bending and shaking in the gusts. The old house was full of creaks and groans, like it was alive.

I folded Donny's clean shorts, T-shirts and pants. I put them in a neat pile ready to take up to his bedroom. I wondered what was going on up there. Hell, I knew what was going on up there. He's always been a wild one. Don't think I don't have feelings, too. Not always feelings a mother should have, either. Yeah, sometimes looking at him in the yard, playing with his pals or his stupid little girlfriends I rub myself. I'm just glad he's of age now and finished high school. I don't have to worry about the police anymore now he's settled in a job. At least not so much.

I poked around in another heap of his dirty clothes, skidmarks aplenty. But there were others, not so nasty. A pair of boxers I bought him last year. Crusty yellowish stains on the front. I picked them up and held them to my face. You have to know what you're washing off if you're going to do it right. My son's stale dried cum, in this case. I inhaled deeply, visualizing his sweet stiff cock that I caught a glimpse of just the previous week when I peeked in the bathroom as he took a shower. Jacking off as usual. Boy, what a treat to see. He has a great cock, I'm proud to say. My pussy dripped like a watering can after that. I had to change my underwear.

Anyway, so what... now I was stuck doing the laundry -- again -- while that little tramp got to play the daylight hooker with him, no doubt adding her slimy contribution to my son's underwear. I heard a thump from upstairs. What was going on up there? I needed to check. I walked softly out to the foot of the stairs and listened. Nothing. I mounted the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps - as my son had never learned to do - and listened again. Halfway up the stairs I could hear voices, one high, both faint and indistinct because of the wind outside but discernible. I stopped again to listen.

"Mom's downstairs. Be quiet."

"Who cares about that old bag? Come on, give me your cock again. It's so fat and long."

Old bag? Really? This charming exchange was followed by silence, then a very loud groan that sounded like Donny.

"Ha! Told you. Let me go clean up. I'm covered in your cum. I'm going to take a shower and wash my hair. If your mom asks why, we just played racketball, OK?"

"You can't leave me like this. What if she comes upstairs?"

"I saw her. She's busy doing the laundry. Don't be such a pussy. I'll latch the door."

A door closed, clicked, then I could hear the heavy little cow padding along to the bathroom. My bathroom with my stuff in it. She better not touch anything. Well, except maybe the hairdryer.

Leave me like this? What did that mean? I needed to check on my son. I didn't trust the little bitch. I heard the shower start. I had time. I crept up to my darling boy's bedroom door and ever so quietly turned the doorknob. I knew how to slip the latch from outside. I opened the door six inches and peeked in, ready with all sorts of smartass responses if I was caught. But it is my house, after all.

I know my son. I'm hard to shock. I love him, but that doesn't mean I'm foolish about him. He can be a little prick. And washing his crusty underpants over the years I've little doubt about his disgusting boy habits. But even I was surprised by what I saw.

My son was lying on his back, spread-eagled on the bed. He was wearing a Lynrd Skynrd T-shirt but nuthin else. Naked below the waist. Oh, wait, he still had his socks on. His wrists and ankles were attached to the bedframe by pantyhose she'd wound around the four corners. He was tied up good. He couldn't move much. She'd blindfolded him, too - a towel sweatband over his eyes, and his own white jockeys pulled over his head for good measure. But he was lying there quite serene. Not in distress.

The wind rattled against the window. He hadn't heard me.

My son is an athlete, track and field, and still competes even now he's a fireman for the Local 237. He's young and very fit. Every muscle in his body is defined; pecs, washboard abs, all the rest. I think he looks like a young Ben Affleck. I like to look at my son. I never get tired of it, like most moms I guess. But I'd never seen him like this before, even though I'd seen him jerking off over the years as I spied on him through keyholes and doors ajar. My heart started to go pitter patter. I was getting wet down there in my pants. Tingly.

I moved through the doorway, stepping silently on the carpet. Time seemed to expand; what only took a second or two floated out into eternity as I gazed upon his body stretched out before me. His muscular form was relaxed and my eyes were immediately drawn to his magnificent cock, now lying to the left side, semi-erect, its work obviously concluded. A pool of semen coated his lower belly, filling his belly button, wetting the bottom of his T-shirt and dripping down onto the coverlet which I would now have to dry-clean. I've never seen so much. That little cow had certainly drained him. I looked down at him with all sorts of ideas running through my head. The wind shrieked outside as the rays shone on the bed, and on him, lighting up his sun-dappled wet balls and dripping cock with dancing spotlights.

It had been a while for me. With a man, I mean, not some damn sex toy. I felt a twinge in my pants as an uncontrollable rush of desire chased any good sense from my brain. His cum. I could smell it. Not a nice smell. But a primeval one that flipped some deep switch within me. Every mother wants her son to fuck her. Whether she admits it or not.

You know that, ladies. Don't you?

I looked up and saw myself in my son's dressing mirror. I stood poised above him as he lay on his bed in repose. What did I see? A forty-something mom in a short denim skirt and a white tank top. No bra. Passable face, brunette (with chemical help). Not a bad figure. A bit wobbly, but not bad. Cheap haircut, messed up. I'd been doing the laundry five minutes before. I get bored with it and sometimes I take a couple of shots of Wild Turkey, just to make the time pass more quickly. I had today. Maybe I was a little 'impaired'.

Without thinking about it, I crossed the threshold into 'do-not-do' land. The mirror made me do it. It was so erotic to watch myself as I knelt by his bed. I reached out and took my son's sloppy half-hard cock in my hand. He started a little as I did so, like he'd been dozing. With one hand grasping his cock, I scooped up a dollop of cum from his belly with my other and lifted it to my face and sniffed it. Yup, that was cum alright. I don't like cum much, at least not to eat. But I was curious. My son's cum might be different, so I licked my fingers. It didn't taste different to any other man's but it was Donny cum, and that made all the difference to me. All of a sudden, he spoke. I thought he was asleep. I got a big shock.

"Didn't hear you come in. No shower? Well, I'm glad you came back. I'm kinda sticky. Can you clean me up? How about untying me? Take the blindfold off."

I knew I couldn't speak. My voice was nothing like Cindy's, even with the outside wind howling. I had to do something, or leave. I leaned down over him and started to clean him. I scooped up his cum in my hand. I really didn't want throw it away ...so...I shoved it up my top and smeared it over my chest. Over my breasts. A little down my pants. What a thrill! Then I continued the job with my mouth. Lick, lick, lick. Swallow, swallow, swallow.

"Oh, so you want to play a bit more you bitch? OK."

He moaned as I cleaned up his belly and balls with my tongue. He tasted good to me because he is my son, but there was so much cum it took a while. I was just about coated in his cum under my clothes by now. Photos http://cpmlink.net/p6apAA When I was more or less done he spoke again, wriggling his ass with his spread-eagled legs.

"I got an itch. Inside my ass. Can you scratch it, Baby-Lamb?"

Well. To be honest I wasn't sure what to do. I've shoved my fingers up guys backsides in the past, when that's what they wanted. I knew if I wanted it to continue with Donny, I pretty much had to do what he said. I looked down at his ass. I licked my fingers (so salty) and shoved two of them gently up his asshole, wiggling them about as I did so. I found the bump of his man gland and pressed it with my fingers.

He cried out to me in pleasure. "That's OK, too. It feels so good, Honey. You know I like variety. Now hop on top and piss on my cock. Piss all over me."

My son was full of surprises today.

His cock, which had been flaccid when I entered the room, was now sticking up like a flagpole. The Wild Turkey I'd been swigging during my ironing was going to come in handy. I had a full bladder for sure. I thought to hell with it, just do it. I unhitched my denim skirt and shook it to the ground. I kicked it to the side of the room so it didn't get splashed. I pulled down my panties and left them where they were on the floor. They were already so wet with my juices, it didn't matter.

I was really enjoying this charade. Playing my son's girlfriend. What a hoot. He was lying there, all tied up on his back, his cock in the air, his ass slightly clenched, waiting expectantly. I got on the bed and straddled him, kneeling above him, my pussy above his cock. I couldn't help but grip it, feel how soft it felt and yet how hard. Almost automatically my hand started to pump his perfect sweet cock.

"You need to get on with it. Mom could come upstairs any time. Piss on me now."

OK, Mr. Impatient. But I uttered a silent Ha Ha Ha! I could hardy tell him mom already had come upstairs. But I wanted to stop him worrying so a managed a quiet "Shhhhh."

I balanced nicely on the bed, knees astride his thighs. By now I only had my tank top on and that was it. I was naked below the waist, just like Donny. It felt great. God, he was a beautiful sight. I got a grip and focused. I exhaled and made pretend I was sitting on the throne. Soon I could feel it come. And boy did it. Suddenly a stream of piss streaked out from my pussy onto my son, drenching his cock, balls, belly, thighs. It splashed, My God it splashed. But I couldn't stop it once it had started. I directed it with my finger on my pussy, arcing it around his belly and chest. Just for fun I gave him a squirt in the face. He seemed to like that, opening his mouth to savor it.

Donny laughed out loud. "Hell, Mom's going to need the carpet cleaning as well. Now jack me off!"

He was right. But I didn't care. It was the invitation I was waiting for, to grip my son's cock. It didn't matter that I was still pissing on it. I looked down and grasped his cock even as my stream hit it and splashed around. We were both soaked. Soon my stream dried up, and I was pumping my boy's wet cock with my hand. Wet's not good, so I spat on it for lube. Much better. An irresistible urge came over me. I wanted him inside me, and it would be so easy. But then he barked an order.

"Aw shit, now suck me you bitch!"

I admired the way he ordered that cow Cindy around. Of course, I had to obey. Had to stay in character. I bent down and took him in my mouth. I couldn't stop. As I bobbed up and down I knew what I was doing was wrong, but with luck he'd never know. Alcohol does funny things to me sometimes. He moaned again and spoke.

"Your filthy mouth feels good. Hmm...yo getting better at this."

That was the last barrier destroyed for me. My own son telling me that his cock in my mouth felt good. Time was awasting. Cindy's hair might be dry soon. With a slurp and a last longing suck, I disgorged my son's fine stiff dick. I grasped his cock. My pussy was dripping with desire. I fed his swollen cock-end into my hungry pussy slowly, and ever so gently I sat down onto the full length of it. I could feel it stretch me. I hadn't had a fat cock in me for so long. And this one was my son's!

"What?" he said. He sounded surprised more than anything.

I knew it had to be a quicky. Probably a once in a lifetime fuck. I started to slide up and down on him faster and faster. I could feel him way up inside me. Movin' my parts around. I was in heaven. But he was almost cumming before I even put him inside me. It didn't matter to me. All too soon he moaned, and I felt him quiver. Then I felt his cum spurt up into me and I shivered as I came with him. Mother and son together. It was the best orgasm I've ever had, and such a struggle to be silent.

"Mom..." he moaned.

Ha! The icing on the cake. So, he fantasized about fucking me, his mother, when he was doing his girlfriend. What a compliment. Some of my guilt went away. I wondered how Cindy felt when he moaned my name as he was fucking her. I bet she felt jealous.

Time to go. I was worried I'd about run out of time. I hopped off him. His face looked pale as a ghost lying there. Boy, I must have really taken it out of him. I pulled my skirt back on even as I felt his cum dribble down the inside of my leg. I picked up my wet panties and let myself out the bedroom door just in time. I heard the hair drier click off in the bathroom down the corridor. I scurried down the stairs to the hallway where I waited, listening. A couple of minutes later I heard the bathroom door open and the little slut pad back down the corridor and into Donny's room. Then nothing. I went back to finish the laundry.

To be honest, I was having second thoughts about what I'd done. I changed my clothes, of course, and was stuffing my sopping panties, skirt, and cum-stained tank top into the washer when I heard a knock on the door. I turned around.

A big strapping guy was standing in the doorway holding out a wet towel. He looked scrubbed and clean, with still-damp hair. He smiled at me.

"My name's Scott. I work with Donny at the Fire Station. I hope you don't mind, but Donny said I could use the shower. We got sweaty playing racketball earlier." He handed over the towel.

His voice was high and reedy for such macho-looking guy. I took the towel, open-mouthed.

He frowned at me. "Donny seems a little upset, but won't tell me why. Probably a problem with Cindy. See you around. Thanks for the shower." He turned and left.

I could feel the blood draining out of my face. With a shaky hand, I finished putting the laundry in the washer and switched it on. Then I reached for the Wild Turkey.

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