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2013-07-13
Gretchen Chambers awoke to a pounding headache. She buried her face in the pillow against the painful brightness of the morning sunlight, cursing herself for the amount of booze she had put away last night. Last night. . .
Slowly it came back to her. Her Birthday. Her divorce. The crowded nightclub. The pretty young guy on the dance floor. Making out in a dark corner. Wantonly letting him finger her right there with people all around. Asking him to come home with her. . .
Despite the hangover, she smiled with satisfaction.
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Her body ached, but it was the good kind of ache, centered around the throbbing soreness between her legs that only came from a night of unbridled lovemaking. She could feel the crusty tightness of dried sex fluids on her skin.
Her lover was snuggled up to her, spooning against her back with an arm thrown over and his hand clutching her breast. And something. . . Yes! His cock! Morning wood, nestled snugly into her ass cleavage, like a hotdog in its bun. She couldn't remember the last time she had woken up to morning wood. She reached back and slipped her hand between their bodies to stroke it gently with her fingertips, thrilling in its rigid virility. Immediately she felt a stirring in her loins. A soft moan sounded behind her.
Perhaps a little morning sex was just the hangover cure she needed. . .
Now she pushed the cock down, thrusting her hips forward to let the engorged head slide down the crack of her ass and between her legs.
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Her poor, abused vulva felt hot and swollen, very tender as the intruder pressed against it. She guided the bloated cockhead to the rapidly moistening hole. Making tiny rocking motions with her pelvis, she began to work it into her in tiny increments.
It felt so good! She put her free hand between her legs and found her hypersensitive clitoris just peeking out of its hood. She tickled it gently as the cockhead slipped in and out of her delicate opening.
So intent was she on the pleasurable feelings emanating from down there, she did not notice her lover stirring behind her. Coming suddenly to life, he grabbed her hip and yanked her back, thrusting his groin forward at the same time.
Gretchen wailed into the pillow at the exquisite pain as the entire cock buried itself deep inside her, stretching her bruised labia with its swollen girth. It sure as hell didn't feel small. It was brutal, it was painful, and it was fucking glorious! She pinched her erect clit tightly between her thumb and forefinger, and climaxed, suddenly and forcefully.
Even as the spasming release of the orgasm wracking her body competed with the stabbing pain and pressure inside her skull, the thought occured to her: Why had she thought that his penis was small? Somewhere in the back of her mind was a hazy recollection of having it in her mouth and being disappointed by its size. . .
And why was it so goddamn bright in here, she wondered as she pulled her face out of the pillow to gulp in some much-needed oxygen. Her room was never this bright in the mornings.
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Confusion spun her head as she squinted at her surroundings. This wasn't her bedroom, it looked like Tommy's room. . .
Tommy. . . Her son. . .
Suddenly it all came back to her: Brad-Chad with the small dick, Tommy interrupting, the fighting, the fucking. . . Oh dear God, what had she done? What was she DOING? She heard herself scream, "TOMMY NO!"
Panic overwhelmed her. Her headache exploded in intensity, threatening to blow the top of her head off.
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She tried to pull away, to get her son's cock out of her, but he caught a handful of her long blonde hair. He rolled on top of her, pushing her face-down.
"Sorry, Mom, but you owe me a finish!" he growled hotly into her ear and immediately began to fuck her for all he was worth.
Gretchen couldn't breathe. All his weight was on her back. He had her by the hair, pushing her face into the mattress. Wapwapwapwap--his pelvis slapped rapidly against her butt as he pistoned his big cock into her screaming cunt. She was helpless. One arm was pinned beneath her, across her chest, while the other flailed weakly. Her legs were spread too wide to get any traction as he lay between them. She felt her gorge rising. If she threw up now she'd die.
Finally, she was able to turn her head enough to suck in a desperate breath. "I'm going to be sick!" she croaked. "Tommy, please! I'm gonna throw up!"
Her plea just seemed to excite him further.
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He fucked her even harder, faster. Thankfully, this brought him off quickly. He groaned loudly and pulled her hair roughly, shoving his cock as deep inside her as he could. It seemed to take an eternity for him to drop his entire load. Finally he collapsed, falling to the bed beside her.
Gretchen scrambled from beneath him and crawled off the bed. She stood on wobbly legs and ran for the door. For some idiotic reason, she found that she was still wearing one high-heeled shoe. It made her dizzy sprint even more awkward but she could not spare the time to get rid of it as she fled the room without daring to look back.
She got to the toilet just in time, falling to her knees and lifting the lid in one motion as her guts spewed out into the bowl. The violent retching pushed her son's semen out of her vagina to dribble down her inner thighs. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried unsuccessfully to keep her long hair out of the way. No sooner had she spat out the last of the burning vomit than a new urgent need sprang up. Frantically climbing to her feet, she slammed the seat down and planted her ass on it as liquid shot out of her anus. Finally, she peed, wiped and flushed.
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She wearily pulled off the lone shoe and climbed to her feet. Just then Tommy showed up at the doorway. He had put on shorts and a t-shirt. She avoided his eyes and put an arm across her breasts, the only attempt at modesty she had the strength for.
"Hey Mom, you want any breakfast?" he asked in a chipper voice.
"No I'm sick," she snapped, annoyed at his carefree happy attitude. As he shrugged and turned to go, she grudgingly called after him, "you could make me some coffee?"
"Sure," he turned back.
"Just pour the water in the top and--"
"I know how to use the machine," he interrupted harshly. "I'm not a child," he added significantly, as if she should have that figured out by now. It didn't escape her notice how his eyes lingered on her nakedness before he went.
How the hell was she going to fix this?
She moved to close the door then turned to the sink. She was shocked by the creature staring back at her in the mirror. Her hair was wildly unkempt, full of snarls, and parts of it were wet with toilet water and vomit. Her makeup was a mess, with mascara running down and old lipstick smeared across her cheek. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her skin pallid.
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How could anyone want to fuck this, even her own son. Especially her own son. . .
She quickly brushed her teeth to get rid of the acidy puke taste, then dug in the medicine cabinet for the ibuprofen, downing 4 of those to combat the pain in her head. Shower, shower, her mind chanted. If she could concentrate on one thing at a time, she might just hold on to her sanity. Shower.
She turned on the water. You fucked your son! Oh shit, back to the toilet for some dry heaves. No more vomit, but more incriminating evidence leaked out of her vagina. She leapt into the shower and adjusted the water as scalding hot as she could possibly stand. She started with her hair: lather, rinse, repeat, repeat, repeat. Once the manic shampooing was done she began to relax a bit, letting the hot, soothing spray massage the tension away.
As she began to soap her body, she finally could at least think about what had happened without puking.
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Everything from last night was still pretty fuzzy. She could remember how angry she had been, first with Brad-Chad--surely that wasn't his name?--and then with Tommy. She could remember a big fight with Tommy that somehow turned into sex. . .
Anger, sexual frustration, and booze: a lethal combination. The last thing she remembered was getting into his bed, him crawling on top of her, putting his big dick in her. Big dick. . . Tommy has a big dick. . . She shook that thought away angrily. God her pussy was sore, she reflected as she gently soaped the area.
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She'd be walking bow-legged for a day or two.
No telling what the perverted little bastard had done to her after she'd passed out. . . No telling how much cum he'd left inside her. . .
She shuddered despite the heat. She took down the hand-held shower. She needed to clean herself out. Squatting, she gingerly inserted two soapy fingers and swirled them deep inside while aiming the spray at the area. Before she knew it, she was leaning back against the wall, her eyes closed, fingers slowly sliding in and out, in and out, as the hot water drummed on her swollen lips and clit. Her mind had drifted, thinking of a big, hard, lovely cock. Only as she climaxed did she realize what she was doing. A nice, relaxing, tension-reliever of an orgasm.
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She opened her eyes and screamed. A hazy figure was watching her through the glass shower door. It was too steamy to make out anything but a silhouette. She sprang up and yanked open the shower door to see Tommy holding a mug in his hand.
"Jesus Christ, Tommy! Did you ever hear of knocking?" She yelled angrily. Once again she found herself trying to cover her naked bits with nothing but her bare hands.
"I did knock!" he yelled back defensively. "I thought I heard you say come in!"
"Well I didn't!"
"Well I'm sorry! Do you want your fucking coffee or not?"
"Watch your language, mister!" she warned, immediately feeling ridiculous for it under the circumstances. She had the vague recollection of screaming obscenities at him as she rode his bone. What the hell had gotten into her? She had never been that vocal during sex in her life. Of course, she'd done a lot of things last night that she'd never done before.
Still, she felt like slapping the offended look off his face, as if he was so innocent. She swallowed her anger. After all, that was what had gotten her into this whole mess.
"Just set it on the counter, please.
"
He set it down and turned to go. "You're welcome!" he snapped sarcastically and slammed the door.
So much for relaxing! How long had he been standing there watching? How much had he been able to see through the cloud of steam? At this point, did it even matter? They'd had sex, for chrissake! Repeatedly! Still, how would the little bastard like it if she watched him masturbate? Probably a lot, she thought with a shiver, trying to chase the picture of that first sight she'd gotten of his manly erection from her mind.
She went to the coffee and gulped it down greedily. The fact that it wasn't too hot to gulp told her a little bit of how long he'd watched. She sighed and went back to her shower. He was such a difficult boy.
Gretchen went back to bed--her own bed--after her shower, and slept 'til late afternoon. She awoke feeling much better and famished. She put her hair up in a ponytail and slipped into her robe--why get dressed this late in the day? Then she went to find Tommy. Much as she dreaded it, she had to talk to him about what had happened.
As she had predicted, her poor pussy was so sore she had to walk awkwardly with her knees apart. She found Tommy in his room, playing video games. He didn't see her at first as she stood in the open doorway. He looked so grown up, as if he had suddenly turned into a man.
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I guess I turned him into a man last night, she thought with a hot flush creeping up her face. She shuddered as she saw the unmade bed, sheets rumpled and covers twisted haphazardly. Her missing shoe was there, lying in the bed like an accusation. The scene of the crime. . .
When she looked back, Tommy was looking at her. When their eyes met he smiled. Gretchen was momentarily speechless, taken aback by the open happiness on his face. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her son truly smile. Whatever she had planned to say to him fled her brain in the face of her surprise.
"A-are you hungry?" was all she managed to stammer.
"Starving!" he answered. "Can we have steak and fries? I've got an appetite for meat!"
Gretchen nodded, turning away from his grin that so reminded her of his father. As she waddled off to the kitchen, she mused, he really has become a man--fuck 'em and feed 'em, that's all they really need to be happy.
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Maybe it would be best to talk over dinner anyway.
Dinner was a slightly uncomfortable affair, at least for her, in which the small talk covered many topics, none of which were incestuous sex. It just never seemed the right time to bring it up. Afterward, Tommy, still in a happy mood, offered to clean up, another shockingly rare occurance. While he was occupied with that, Gretchen decided she had better do a little cleaning job herself--namely, getting the dirty, sex-fouled sheets off her son's bed.
She went to Tommy's room and quickly stripped the bed, confirming by sniffing that the sheets were indeed funky. Gathering the bedding in a great armload, she also grabbed the decorative throw which had briefly been her modesty attire last night, and lastly clinched her forgotten shoe between her teeth. Carrying such a big load caused her bow-legged walk to be even more awkward, but she eventually made it to the laundry room, pausing along the way to drop-kick her shoe into her own darkened bedroom.
After loading the sheets into the washer, she carried the throw back to the living room, arranged it on its chair, then gathered her bits of clothing that were scattered about the room from last night. She found her shirt, bra, and skirt just fine, but her panties were nowhere to be found. Tommy? Either him or Brad-Chad. She shuddered to think how funky those panties must be, after how worked up she'd been last night. Oh well. . .
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She carried her clothes to her bedroom, tossed them into the darkness, then went to the linen closet for fresh sheets. Back in Tommy's room, she was just finishing up making the bed, bent over tucking in the last corner, when she was suddenly grabbed by the hips and rammed from behind. With a startled yelp, she looked over her shoulder to see a wicked grin on Tommy's face as he ground his crotch into her ass. She could feel that his cock was already hard.
"Tommy, no!" she cried as she slipped out of his grasp. She ended up sitting on his bed to protect her nether regions. Unfortunately, this put her at eye level with the tented front of his shorts. She had to force her eyes away from that spectacle as her tummy did flip-flops at the mere sight.
"Tommy," she said, trying to keep her tone reasonable even as she inwardly cursed her own cowardice for avoiding having the talk earlier in less awkward circumstances.
"Now, Tommy, what happened between us, uh, last night. . . "
"And this morning," Tommy interrupted, still grinning.
"And this morning," she amended, licking her lips nervously. "What happened was a mistake.
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It--it was wrong, honey. It was all my fault. . . " NOT ALL MY FAULT--IF YOU WEREN'T SO FUCKING DIFFICULT, I COULD HAVE GOTTEN MY ROCKS OFF WITH GODDAMN BRAD-CHAD'S TINY DICK AND I'D NEVER EVEN HAVE KNOWN THAT YOU HAD SUCH A BIG FUCKING DICK THEN I WOULDN'T BE WANTING TO GRAB THE SON-OF-A-BITCH RIGHT NOW AND.
. .
She suddenly realized that her mind had gone off on a tangent and she was staring at the pup-tent once again. She hastily lifted her gaze to make eye contact.
"It was wrong and it can't happen again. "
"But Mom, don't you love me anymore?"
Gretchen's heart gave a lurch. "Oh honey! Of course I still love you. . . " Then she saw the smirk on his face.
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"God damn it Tommy!" She started to stand, but Tommy blocked her way.
"You know, you were right last night," he said, looming over her. He pulled his shorts down, letting his massive erection spring free. "I saw you sucking that Guido's dick, and I wanted it to be me. "
Gretchen gaped at her son's penis barely 6 inches from her face. She had hazy, drunken memories of seeing it last night, but from this close it looked absolutely huge. It wasn't that big, of course, still a good bit smaller than his father's, but it had been years since she'd seen Roger's from this close. Still, her jaw had dropped in shock at the sudden sight of it, and Tommy, seeing an opportunity, went for it. He thrust his hips forward and tried to stick it right in her mouth.
"Stop it, Tommy!" she snapped, dodging his penis. "I'm not doing that!"
But then Tommy grabbed her head with both hands and tried to force her onto his cock. She got her hands on his hips and pushed back. Now it was a test of strength, with him pulling and her pushing, but he'd already proven to be stronger than her, so she knew it was a losing battle. The cockhead loomed closer and closer. She angrily fought back, but to no avail, so at the last second she let go but slapped the dick out of the way so it missed her mouth.
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Her face mashed into his groin, wiry pubes tickling her and his heavy balls on her chin.
"Listen!" she cried desperately, her voice muffled. "If you let me go now, I'll do you with my hand!"
But Tommy was too close to what he wanted. "No! You sucked his dick, now suck mine!"
Her attempt at negotiation failed, Gretchen resorted to threats. "Tommy, I'll bite you! I swear to God I'll bite your fucking dick!"
By this time, he had her ponytail in his right hand, controlling her head, while his left was holding his cock toward her face. Finally, getting angrier by the second, she gave up the struggle and let him push it into her mouth. Then she bit him.
Tommy yelped in pain, but he didn't release her. With his hardon filling her mouth, she looked up at him. There was a look of wild lust on his face as they looked into each other's eyes. She bit down again, harder. He flinched at the pain and sucked air through his gritted teeth, but he never broke eye contact, and he did not withdraw his cock.
Still staring into his blue eyes which were so like her own, she slowly ran her tongue around the head of his cock. He shuddered with pleasure, then hissed as she bit him again, then moaned as she licked again. At this point, she gave up all pretense of fighting him off.
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Now she was blatantly teasing, alternately licking and nipping, not hard like the beginning but playfully, just enough to make him flinch.
`When she began sucking, Tommy's eyes rolled back in ecstasy. She continued looking up at him, an incredible thrill running through her as she slowly bobbed her head in a sensual blowjob. She was sucking her own son's cock, and it was the most erotic experience she could ever remember. Whether it was her own long forced abstinence or the fact that it was Tommy's first time or just the sheer wrongness of a mother sucking off her own child, she was so fucking hot she could hardly stand it.
Keeping up her slow sucking rhythm, she untied her robe and shrugged it from her shoulders. Now naked, she scooted forward to the edge of the mattress so she could touch herself. Her vagina was still sore, but it was wet as a monsoon. She ran a finger along the slit, getting it coated in slippery fluid, then moved it to her already erect clitoris and began massaging it with little circular motions.
Now both of Tommy's hands were holding her head and he began to thrust his cock into her mouth with more urgency. As she remembered thinking the first time she saw his impressive organ, it did indeed cause her to gag as it forced its way down her throat, until her saliva was overflowing and dripping down onto her bare titties. The more she gagged, the more excited he got and the faster and harder he pumped, which made her gag even more and suck even more forcefully and frig her stiff clit faster and faster.
This lewd perpetual motion machine continued to ramp up at a frantic pace until it reached critical velocity and Tommy cried out some unintelligible exclamation and shot hot cum into her mouth. Gretchen leaned back, letting his spewing penis slip from her mouth. She masturbated frenziedly as she watched spurt after spurt of viscous spunk erupt from the spasming cock to splash across her sweating tits.
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She looked up into her son's wild eyes and climaxed savagely as she let his slippery jizz escape her panting lips to dribble down her chin.
When it was all over, she fell back onto her elbows, breathing hard and tingling from her scalp to her toes. She looked up at her young son, standing triumphantly over her, slowly stroking his satiated cock as he looked approvingly up and down her naked body. She was too spent to even attempt to cover herself. Her tanned flesh was covered in a sheen of sweat, semen running down her chin and chest, her legs open and hairless pussy wantonly on display.
"Dammit, Tommy," she groaned. "Why do you make me do these things?"
Tommy grinned contentedly. "I've got the hottest mom in town," he shrugged, still checking her out.
Gretchen felt herself blush inexplicably. She had fucked her son, sucked him, masturbated in front of him, and yet a little compliment made her as giddy as a schoolgirl. At a loss for words, she climbed wearily to her feet, picked up her robe, gave her son a light kiss on the forehead, and padded naked from the room. Feeling his eyes on her as she walked out, she ignored the discomfort in her groin and wiggled her naked ass as sexily as only a long-legged blonde can.
What the fuck is wrong with you, she asked herself as she headed to the shower to wash off her son's cum for the second time today. Last night she could blame on being drunk. This morning? Mistaken identity.
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But just now she had deliberately sucked off her own son. Sure, she had fought it at first, but she ended up loving it. Maybe I am a slut after all, she couldn't help but giggle as she looked down at the mess he had made of her.
"Difficult boy," she muttered, but this time it was more of a question than a conclusion. .
