Chapitre 2214: MOMMY GOES TO THE MOUNTAINS
My son and I were driving to Shenandoah Mountains Park through Skyline Drive. We had come this way a hundred times before, when he was a boy, when his father and I bought a vacation home on the other side of the mountains. Our home on the Piedmont of Virginia was a model of the American nuclear home. My son Paul, his older sister Anne, and our baby Andrew, the five of us four or five times a year driving up here to our escape from the world. My ex husband Ray was a good man. He was busy so much, as the Regional Vice President for a major retail chain. His job during the week was in Baltimore, and the hours were so long that he most often only came home on the weekends, and then visiting his stores on the weekends even precluded that. He stayed in an apartment, so we saw him usually 2 weekends a month, more in the winter when the stores weren't so busy, much less, sometimes once a month on a week day, in the spring and summer when the stores were busy.
As the nuclear family broke apart, and the children got older, the problems that come from single parent homes and missing fathers began to surface and grow. Anne got rowdy and took up drugs. Fortunately, she was the oldest, and had benefitted from her earliest years having the family complete. She went on to college and is now a legislator in her home state of West Virginia. Paul, too, had his father's influence while he was in primary and middle school, so he turned out great as well. He was a handful as a high schooler, but is now an assistant coach with a local Division I university football team. Andrew, on the other hand. He didn't get hardly any time with his father. He was born the same year Ray got promoted from district manager to RVP. By the time Andrew could walk, Ray was around maybe 50 days a year, when Andrew started school, we saw Ray 20 days a year. When Andrew started at the Mill School, Ray and I had started our divorce.
When Ray and I got divorced, it's nothing like you'd think. Neither of us were cheating, neither of us beat the other, or the kids. He just had this new life he was immersed in, and I wanted my 2.5 children family. My kids were moving on, two were in college and the other in high school, and I really wanted to have a husband. Ray couldn't and wouldn't leave his job. He was offered by the company, while he was going through the family trouble, to take a local position as district manager. The work was difficult of course, and he had done it before, but it meant 9 stores instead of 80, and an area of 20 miles radius instead of 150. And he could be home. Live, at home. But he had already had that job, and was not going to take a demotion, as he called it. He kept his job, and lost his family. I guess officially, on paper, I lost a husband, but I had lost him 16 years ago.
So now, Andrew and I were on our way to Bryce. We hadn't been here in two years, between the divorce and pending property settlement, and Andrew getting used to his new school, and the other two being so involved in their colleges and sports, we just never got around to it. But this last Christmas, Andrew mentioned it, how he wished we could spend Christmas at Bryce, like we used to. I dedicated myself to this mission for the whole year, saving and fighting in court for that property, for the kids. I got it, and here we are, driving to our family vacation home, just the two of us, all that was left of my 2.5 children nuclear (nukuler?) family.
I wanted, since I was a little girl, to be a mommy. When I had my babies, I was so happy. I still am, at this part of my life. But being a mommy involved pleasing a husband too, a husband who worshipped his wife. I haven't had this in years. I felt empty in this way, that my husband never loved me, never worshipped me. I never got to please my husband either. Yes, I raised his kids, but he never knew half of their achievements or even anything about them. He bought his kids Walmart gift cards for every holiday and birthday for the last ten years. Who does this? He gave me a gift card to his store chain one year for Christmas, of course I knew he had forgotten it was Christmas and bought it the day before.
Now, my last child was a man. He graduated this past Spring, and was taking a year off to attend this academy that better prepared students for University. He didn't get in to any of the schools he wanted to attend, and he wasn't a sport star like his older brother. Andrew was 18, and was 6-2 and 220lbs. He was built like you would be certain he was on his way to a big school to be a linebacker or halfback, but he wasn't coordinated in any way. When he and his brother would throw the football around, it ended up in 4 minutes with the older one storming off in disappointment that his brother was such a klutz.
Being the way he was, Andrew wasn't always popular, wasn't dating as often as I'd hoped he would be. He was big, he was good looking, but he was clumsy in action and in his speech. He just never came off smooth or clever or funny. He wasn't bullied, but he wasn't ever accepted, either. I tell you all of this because maybe you will understand what happened next.
When we got to Bryce, it was different. Two years is a long time in some places. The landscaping was completely different. All the houses were painted two years ago after the last time we were here, and the color was just too "fresh" looking for this kind of area in the mountains. The place looked like a cardboard cutout: useless shutters and shades of plastic grey. We unpacked, ready for a week of Christmas as a family.
After a day, even Andrew acknowledged that it didn't feel like a family Christmas. "Mom, since it doesn't feel like Christmas, and there's no snow even, let's go down to the pool and have a swim." He had already changed into his swim trunks. Andrew was cut up, his abs and pecs were bulging. I don't normally have a thing for muscle guys, but even I was a little stirred by his muscularity.
"Andrew, you know I didn't pack anything to swim in," I diverted my eyes, to not be caught ogling my son.
"Mom, I bet there's a suit still in the closet upstairs!" He ran up there, bounding up the stairs like he did when he was ten. I knew there was probably several suits up there, but they were years old, some hardly fit me right even then. Today I'm fifty, and I'm not fat, but I'm definitely curvy. My thighs and butt are round for sure, and my belly doesn't have rolls, but it's not flat like, well, like Andrew's. I kept thinking of those abs. Mmmm I've got a thing for abs. My next husband (giggle) will have to have abs.
"Ok Andrew you grab me a few, I might not fit the first one!"
Then, he shouted down to me, "Ah mommy you'll look great in any of them!" Of course I knew he was being playful and complementary to his mother, and I should have blushed and moved on, but it gave me a flutter, in my groin. I had just stared at my son's hot abs and now I was maybe getting a wettie from him telling me I could wear the same swimsuit I wore when he was learning to swim.
In just a minute or two, Andrew came to the railing, and held four suits, all one-piece jobs, held them up like he'd just snared four rabbits in the woods for dinner, and brought them down to me. I again blushed, and was sure I was about to embarrass myself. I held each up to my body, trying to make it obvious for Andrew that none would fit and I would just join him in regular clothes and watch him swim. "Well, go try one on and let's get going!" Andrew was insistent. Ah well, it wasn't like the whole world would see my shame. I'd just put the closest one on, show him it wasn't going to happen, and then get on with the day.
I went into the half bath and took two of the suits I knew were more recent with me. I took off my shirt, unhooked my bra, and let my little boobies free. They were certainly nothing like they were when I was pregnant. When I was pregnant these things were big. Really big. Now, they were firm, but a B cup at best. I dropped my pants, and my unflattering underpants, and stepped into the suit. It was cute, it was black with green leaves all over it like a tropical rainforest theme, some red and yellow and blue flowers over the breasts and the crotch area. As I pulled it up, I remembered why I hadn't worn a swimsuit in two years. I did not look good. Again, I wasn't fat, but my legs and belly and rear were not for this suit. This was for a mother in her thirties, not a soon to be grandmother at 50. My pubic area was not groomed for this kind of suit either. It was a high cut job, maybe an inch wide at the hairy area. My black and grey pubes poking out the side were extremely unflattering. I was determined to prove to my son that I didn't have a good suit to swim in, so we could go on with our day without swimming.
I held my pile of clothes in front of my crotch, and exited the bath. As I appeared, Andrew was right there, waiting. Now, I got a tingle, being so very exposed like this in front of my son, my masculine, muscled, 3/4 nude son. My stud son.
"Come on mom, let me see!" He pushed playfully at my clothes pile, trying to knock them away from my shame. I fought a little, pushing him back. He got a little aggressive then, grabbing the clothes and actually succeeding in getting my shirt and my underwear, but not my bra and jeans, which protected my modesty. He stepped back, letting me recover from the mock battle we'd had.
"Andrew stop messing around, this suit doesn't fit, and I'm not going to show you why. Just look at the butt!" I turned, and showed him how my butt had turned a full back suit almost into a thong. My butt was firm, no cellulite, but it was not a small butt like a young girl he might be attracted to. It was that of an old woman, a mother of three, a woman of 50. As I turned around quickly, I saw something that shocked me in a way I can't say I'd ever been shocked before. My son, my stud son, my little baby boy, had my panties up to his face! He quickly pulled them away, but I caught him. He had to know he was caught. He threw the pile of clothes to the floor, and came at me again. He was pulling at the remaining clothes protecting my privacy. "Andrew what are you doing! I told you this thing isn't going to fit and I'm not going to wear it!"
"I know you aren't going to wear it, mommy," Andrew said, as he pulled even harder at the clothes. He wasn't being rough, but I certainly wasn't strong enough to fight him. I resisted, as my modesty required, but eventually I let go. I hoped in this dark light of the hallway he wouldn't see much, just that the suit wasn't fitting and that would be that.
In one motion, he took the jeans and bra from me, dropped them to the floor, and hit the light switch. The light switch. Of course, I was standing under one recessed light can, and there was one in front of and behind me. I was in the spotlight. I knew instantly that only a blind man couldn't see my pubes. He stared right at my crotch, and said "wow mom, it's been a while since you had a haircut, eh?" He pointed even.
I was embarrassed. I turned and went to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. What was I going to do, anyway? Andrew had my clothes. All I had was this suit, and the spotlight was on me whenever I gutted up and came back out. "Andrew James Irwin what the hell are you doing to your mother!" I yelled out the door. As I leaned against the door, I slumped down. I was embarrassed. There was silence on the other side of the door. I was sitting on the floor, I could feel my face hot in my shame. My son had seen his old mother in a suit that was easily two sizes too small, with her grey pubes hanging out the side.
But, I had a weird tingling. I hadn't been touched in the way he touched me in a while. It was playful, it was a little forceful, we were both giggling as it was happening. He even sniffed my underwear, on purpose! The grin on his face even as I caught him gave me tingles. My son, my baby boy, had sniffed my panties and forced me into this shame of this tiny suit and he looked right at my boobies and my crotch. And he was on the other side of this door. Was he someplace else? Was his face buried again in my panties? Was he jerking off? What was I thinking. Why did my mind go there? Now I was getting hot again, thinking that Andrew was touching my undergarments and touching himself. I was so exposed. My vagina was covered only by this thin lycra. I slid my hand down to it, hoping it wasn't hot, hoping it wasn't wet. My hopes were dashed right away. Hot, check. Wet, check. I pushed a little against my hole to see just how wet I was, and I was drenched. I felt the slime of my juices squishing through the material of the crotch. Ugh. Now I really was in a predicament.
"Andrew? Andrew? What are you doing? Hand my clothes back through and we can get going down to the pool." No answer. I asked again, still nothing. I unlocked the door, opened it a crack, and stepped out. All clear. The light was back off. I asked one more time, no answer. I saw my pile of clothes, and went to it like a life raft. I pulled at the pile, looking for the underwear, and they were gone.
"Looking for these?" Andrew was behind me, he startled me coming out of the shadows of the hallway, holding my underwear with one finger. He held them closer and closer to his nose, and made a clear and loud sniffing noise. My son, right in front of me, was teasing me with my underwear and sniffing them!
"Andrew this isn't playtime and you can't be playing with mommy's panties like this!" I lunged at him, grabbing at the cotton, and he just held them up higher than I could reach. Again, he's 6-2, and I'm barely 5-8. The underwear might as well have been on top of a mountain.
He kept playing this keep away game, pulling the underwear away, then offering again, then pulling away. I backed him up to the door, he now had nowhere to go, but still, how was I going to win. "Mom you have to get your underwear back, don't you? Or do you want to just model that suit for me all week?" He knew for sure I had so many other underpants I could go wear right now, but I couldn't possibly allow him to keep pawing at the pair I just was wearing. And for sure, I wasn't going to keep wearing this ridiculous suit.
"Andrew I am not going to wear this suit one more minute. You saw how ridiculous it is. Just give me my underwear and I can get changed and we can go."
He wasn't budging. Andrew insisted, "Ok, mom, just let me turn the lights back on, and you give me a runway show, like a model on the TV, and then we can go." It was a simple deal, but again, why would I make any deal with my son? But inside, I wanted to please him. He was worshipping my scent when he was inhaling the crotch of my underpants, and I wanted to please him. All it would take is a quick walk up and down the hallway, it was nothing. I had walked thousands of miles before, I had worn sillier costumes, and, just recently, he'd already seen my hairy bush.
"Once up and down the hall, and that's it?" I was negotiating! Why?! I wanted to please him. I had no control over my son. He was bigger than me, and whatever the reason, he was feeling playful enough to play this dangerous game with his mother. He switched the hall light on again, putting me back in the spotlight. He put the underwear up to his nose again, and pointed to the other end of the hallway, where he wanted me to go. Obediently, I turned and walked away from him, to my spot at the end of the hall. I had modelled when I was in college, so I knew how to do the walk. I turned it on for him, for my son, to really show this up and get it over with so he wouldn't ask for anything else.
I slowly walked my curvy plus sized body down the hall, one foot directly in front of the other, looking straight ahead, all while wearing this hilariously small suit. I could feel the material working its way into my crack, bunching in the folds of my pussy, stretching to contain my body and adapt to its curves. As I got closer to him, I gave him a look, a death stare, as he continued to take full breaths through my underwear. How bold he was being. His pecs and his abs moved in a rhythm as he inhaled my scents. My scents. His mother's scents. He was inhaling the smells of his mother's body. His mother's most intimate places. Her pubic hair. Her vagina. Her anus! The underpants he held in his hand and pressed against his nose were pressed against my most private places just a few minutes ago, and were there for the whole three hour car ride. As I reached within a foot of him, I abruptly turned, and walked back to the end of the hallway.
I'm walking away from my son, sauntering my rear, feeling the air touching the bare cheeks almost all the way to my crack. At the other end, I spun again, now to face my son. I almost couldn't look him in the eye. I had these words on my tongue, wanting to say them but knowing it was completely wrong: "Did that please you?" Instead, I said, "Ok, Andrew, now give me my underwear back!"
He started toward me, hand outstretched, offering the cotton thing to me. I grabbed it, and then grabbed the rest of the clothes. I used them to again cover my body, and I slipped past him to the bathroom. The door closed behind me, I sat on the toilet seat to catch my breath. I had just modeled this ridiculous suit to my son, while he sniffed my underpants. I grabbed the underpants from the floor and took a sniff, really checking what was so fucking fascinating. Well, they were normal as I could tell, I certainly could smell my pussy scent, and near the butt area, a little poo smell, and the whole thing smelled lightly of urine. But really, they were no different than any underwear worn by a 50 year old woman on a road trip. I stood and took the suit off, again looking at myself in the mirror.
I was soaking wet as I touched my vagina. My lips and my hole were drenched. I was very aroused by the game we had just played. I was aroused at him worshipping my scent, and at my acts of pleasing him. He demanded my actions, and I did them, despite the nature of not wanting to do these things, knowing I shouldn't be modelling this tiny suit for my own son.
But, Andrew was a man. What a man he was. He was certainly erect under his board shorts, but it was always hard to tell with that kind of shorts. I really hoped inside my growing dirty mind that he was hard as a rock. From looking at his mother. From looking at me. I dressed, but after I had my underwear and bra on, I stopped. I wanted to play this game a little more. I couldn't ignore that I was wet, that I was aroused. I couldn't ignore my desire to please a man, and at this point in my life, any man would do. But for me, that man right here right now was my son, a true stud that any woman certainly would want ogling her. But me, it was me he was playing the game with. It was me whose underpants he was sniffing. It was my pubes he was staring at. It was my big ass he was drooling over as I walked away from him.
I hoped that he would still be interested in playing. I didn't continue dressing. I left the underwear and bra on. They were simple, basic, Walmart white cotton underpants and a cheap green lacy bra. Definitely not something one would be wearing to attract a fuck buddy, but I was going to see if I could keep this game going.
I left the bathroom, and again he was gone. I went out to the living room, and sat on the couch, hoping he would come out from wherever he was, and we could play. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Half an hour. Even my wettie had gone away. I was hardly even thinking about sex anymore. At that moment I was ready to give up and go do something constructive, Andrew appeared at the top of the stairs. He came down, still in his swim trunks and no shirt. "You ready mom?" When he saw me, he knew I wasn't. "What happened to the suit?" He played dumb, perhaps stupid.
"Andrew you know I wasn't going to wear that thing out of the house. Stop playing around and sit here with me a sec," I had my serious mom face on now. I patted the couch next to me. He sat next to me, and I started in on him. "You can't play that game you just played with me, son. I'm your mother, taking my clothing and trying to embarrass me that way is not allowed, and you know that. You embarrassed me so much, Andrew, I have to tell you that if you do that again," as I finished, he put his hand over my mouth, leaned into me, and interrupted me.
"If I do that again, you'll do what, you'll model again for me? Will you model this outfit for me?"
"Andrew, come on, stop, this isn't funny anymore, you're being rough," I tried to push him off of me, but of course I couldn't. He laid his body against mine, on top of mine, his hand still halfway over my mouth.
"Mom I just want to see what you'd look like in a bikini suit, maybe we can go buy you one since you didn't like that suit you had on already," now he was playing the game as I wanted. I wanted to show off to him in something I felt was more flattering, and he was going along with it. Now I was pleasing him, as he was worshipping me. He let me up.
"Ok, let's see if you like your mommy in this type of outfit, and then we'll go buy me a new swimsuit." I was blushing again, as these words of compliance left my lips. I wanted him to ogle me again. As I stood and turned, I bent over, to show him my butt, and I reached behind a pillow on the loveseat. I pulled out the swimsuit I had been wearing, and turned to him. I tossed it to him, aiming for his face. I scored a direct hit! The suit I had worn for him a half hour ago was now squarely on his nose and mouth. He reached up to take hold, and to press it against his nose. I could hear him inhale. I started to dance a little for him. I'm not a dancer, but I got the jist of it. I got my hips moving, my waist moving, my legs moving. He took the suit away from his face, and played with it, looking for the crotch. When I saw the white of the crotch panel appear, I got instantly aroused as he pushed that fabric against his face.
That little panel was right up my crack, against my anus, against my sloppy wet cunt, as I walked up and down that hall, my juices squishing against and through it. And now, it was touching my son's mouth and nose. I could hear the inhaling. His eyes opened and closed, he leaned back in the couch. I kept dancing. He brazenly put his hand down his shorts. My son, the stud, was touching his cock and sniffing his mother's swimsuit, while he watched me dance for him in my bra and panties. I was so turned on right now. I turned my back to him, looking to give him a real tease. I reached to the hooks of my bra, and fingered at the clasp. I kept gyrating my hips, and I turned my head over my shoulder to look him right in the eye. I still played with the hooks, still gyrating, and my glare dropped in an instant, from his eyes to his crotch. I stared right at his cock, through his shorts like I had x-ray vision. I turned back again to him, my hand still on the clasp of my bra behind my back.
Neither of us said a word. There was no music. But this could have been a scene from a strip club. Except I was a 50 year old mother, and this was my 18 year old son. I was no stripper, but I was doing my best to please him. It had been a long time since I saw a man enjoying staring my way. It had been a long time since I had the opportunity to please a man in this way. No man had responded this way to anything I had done in years. And here I was, just moving my hips and touching the clasp of my bra, and here he was, hand in his shorts, and we were both in our way getting what we wanted.
Was it wrong? Could be. Neither of us was nude, we were eight feet apart, no one was touching, no one was getting hurt. But both of us were aroused. I could see from his stroking that he was going from base to tip with each move, slowly, and I could tell from the size of his hand that it was wrapped around a fat piece of man meat. It didn't seem like the strokes were long, so maybe he didn't have a long one, but surely it was a big one. Maybe like a Coke can. His father was the opposite, much longer than average, but barely as thick as the average. I had only ever seen one penis in real life other than his father's but of course I had read the numbers in magazines.
What was the endgame here? Was he just going to beat off and cum in front of me? Was I going to do this whole thing with my underwear on? What did he want? I decided to up the ante in this game, I got closer to him. I turned, and lowered my panty covered butt onto his lap, getting within a few inches, then shaking my ass and standing, walking back away to my dancing position. He gave me a scowl like he was not pleased by this teasing. I tried again, teasing once again. He gave me the same look, but still kept stroking his cock inside his shorts.
The third time I did it, I got what I deserved. I turned my back to him, I lowered my rear to his lap, and just before I stood back up, he reached to my hips and pulled me down right into his lap. It was almost a bull's-eye, I could feel his big hard cock punch my crotch, and as he pulled me down, one hand stayed on my hip and the other went up to my mouth. He covered my mouth, and used the other hand to push my pelvis into his crotch. I could feel the hardness and the heat of his dick, now just a few millimeters of fabric away from penetrating my private holes. The head was right at the entrance to my vagina, and the wetness of both his penis tip and my vagina made a squishing noise. I knew what would please him. How I could please my son. He wanted me, he wanted me to submit to him. And I wanted it too. I wanted that fat cock inside my body. I wanted him to push me down and slam it into me. I wanted to feel the heat as his penis tapped against my uterus. I wanted his hard body on top of mine, forcing me and pressing my ribs so I had trouble breathing.
I struggled against him. I kicked my foot into his thigh, I shook my head trying to get out from his grasp. He pushed me down into the couch, and he rested his weight on my back. His leg was now between mine, and he was pushing them side to side trying to get me to open for him. He put his entire body weight on me. I could feel him now, his weight, he was very heavy, my chest was compressed, it was indeed hard to breathe. His hand on my mouth was nearly suffocating me. I had to keep this as a playful game, so I grabbed at his hand with both of mine. I guess he took the hint, and released my mouth. I could now breathe, enough to stay conscious.
I struggled under him. He kept thrusting his cock into my crotch, now hitting my clit, my hole, my anus, my crack, and everywhere in between, in alternating random strokes. It was like he was carpet bombing my secret territory, he wasn't aiming for anyplace specific, but every place. Just the massage of his weight and his pelvic bone on my cheeks was relaxing, I was leaking juices into my underpants by the gallon. My pussy was ready to be fucked, and it didn't matter if it was my son. He was a man, he was worshipping me, I was the one he wanted, of every woman in the world, I was going to be his, and I was here to please.
I wasn't sure if saying something would ruin this or turn it rougher or make it better, and I wasn't quite sure how to approach it, should I escalate it with my words, or try to fight him with my words, or turn into a hot lover with my words. I decided to stay silent for the time being. I really didn't want anything but to get fucked now. He was mauling under his body, and I felt him kicking with his legs. He was taking his shorts down! This was really going to happen. My son was going to try to fuck me. Except for a thousand times with my vibrators, my pussy hadn't been fucked in five years, hadn't been satisfied by a man in more than ten years.
Now his poking was even more urgent, even harder, and with his cock being bare, I could feel even more his heat and his wetness. His cock was lubed up, and it was a good thing, the nude penis was huge I could feel it spreading the cheeks of my plump ass each time he thrust. I was secretly hoping he wouldn't be satisfied with a dry hump, but I had to make sure. I couldn't let him just pound my cheeks and not fulfill my carnal desires. I needed this cock inside me. I wanted to feel the blast of hot cum inside me. I wanted my son's hot breath on my neck and my ear as I squeezed the load from this stud.
I fought a little more, and then he got the message. He reached to my panty waistband and lifted his pelvis. I almost instantly felt the absence of that rhythmic thrusting he was giving me, but his the entire forearm of his other arm was on my back, I could still struggle and not win. I did this, as he used the other hand to pull my underpants down. When they were off of one foot, he wedged both of his legs between mine. He again put his entire weight on me, and now I could feel the whole length of his penis in my crack. He laid it right up my crack, so the head was now far far from my holes, but I could feel his heavy bare balls right where my asshole and my pussy met. It was like when the waiter shows you the lobster you're about to eat, I could feel his balls, minutes before I would get their contents inside me. He pushed his weight. He bit my ear. Both of his hands were now on my shoulders, pushing down, making it clear to me that he was victorious, that I had to relent.
He used his legs to spread my legs. I resisted, but he of course beat me. My legs were now wide open. My body was pressed face down into my couch, my son was biting my ears, my neck. His legs were between mine, his penis was touching my crack. While my pussy was soaking his balls, his penis was dripping all on my back and my ass. He was fucking my cheeks pretty hard and slow. The rhythm was seductive. He wanted me to let go, he wasn't trying to take anything. He knew I would give it to him. He knew I would open up, that my soaking wet pussy would accept him inside. Each stroke mashed my body, I could feel my pussy lips opening and closing as he pushed my legs and butt and pelvis with his entire body weight.
I could hear him inhaling the scents of my neck and my hair, his bites now turned to kisses, and my fighting turned to compliance. Instead of fighting with my body, I was now arching my pelvis, trying to time it right to catch his fat cock head in my pussy. Each time, he pointed it right up my crack instead. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to be fucked. I needed this man to shove his dick inside me. I imagined I would cum a thousand times before he was even two inches inside. I didn't know how else to entice him. I could even feel a few times his mushroom would tap against my wet hole, then slide against my anus, then right back up my crack. Each tease was driving me crazy. I kept hoping and praying that he wouldn't cum. I knew that if he came, the struggle would be over, and so would my chance.
Should I grab his cock and point it in the right place? Should I just say something? What could I do? Just as I was rubbed raw in my brain from this internal battle, he pulled his pelvis off my ass. I felt the drip of precum from his penis on my ass. He lifted his entire body up, if I wanted to, this would have been my chance to get out from under him. It would have been simple. But I didn't. I hardly even breathed. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted my son, my manly man of a son, to enter inside me. The suspense was killing me. I looked over my shoulder to see what was going on. At that moment, he touched the tip of his grand penis to my opening, and he slammed in. He returned his body weight to me, he pressed my ribs again, he kissed my neck again. "mommy" was all he said, as he pushed that big tool inside my slot.
I never, not in 50 years of my life orgasmed like that. I felt it from my neck he was kissing to my ears I could feel his breath on, to my lungs that were being compressed, to my butt that was crushed under his weight, to my thighs forcefully spread by his muscular legs, to deep inside my cunt, from my anus to my clit, then all the way down to my now curled toes. I was shooting juices from my hole, I even felt my asshole open and close, all the hairs on my entire body stood erect, my nipples were stiff and were piercing the rough fabric of the couch. My son, my flesh and blood, was on top of me, and his super penis was entering inside of his mommy. As I relented, as he gave me what I most desired, I came and came and came. Even his big cock head wasn't even inside me the whole way to the crown, and I was cumming. For my son.
That first time inside, he worked it in so slowly. So slowly. I kept creaming him, I kept pushing my rear against him, trying to get more of it, but he kept pushing slowly. I felt my insides stretching. Certainly the last time something this big went through this opening it was his body at his birth. I had never been penetrated by a penis or a dildo like this. It was hot, it was veiny, it was big. My son was on top of his mommy, and he was inside her, and he was teasing her, worshipping her vagina, with the length of his penis. And she was pleasing him. I couldn't even think of anything other than just how absolutely filthy this whole episode was. I had been embarrassed to show him my grey pubes in that ill fitting suit, now I was impaled by his super cock.
Once he got all the way inside, I felt full. He didn't quite hit the cervix, but he was close. He filled the entire cavity though, all the walls were in contact with his rod. It really was like a Coke can, and when he reached the maximum, I felt his pubes against my butt. The fine tickle of that hair and his weight and the full feeling brought me back again to orgasm. This time it was less than the first, but was deeper. I felt it inside my bones. He then started fucking me, not like a man would fuck a hooker in an alley, but as a lover would make love to his wife on their honeymoon. He kissed my ear, my neck, he rubbed my butt and my side and my leg with his hand, all the while, keeping the weight on me.
I loved to please my son in this way. He gave me the worshipping I wanted from a man all my life, and I could finally please a man in the ways he desired. He fucked me. My son fucked me. Each thrust was slow but deliberate. As if he wanted me to feel each vein as it moved through the sleeve of my vagina. Only briefly did his balls touch my clit, but I didn't need it. Most of my life I came really only from rubbing my clit, penetration never really did it for me, but this time, wow I felt it. My whole body was tingling, and it never stopped. It wasn't a single orgasm I could put away in my panties and get to the bake sale. This was a rippling wave, each time he got all the way inside, a firework went off, and I returned his thrust with a burst of my juices.
Andrew, my son, got about ten minutes in, my vagina was swollen and stretched, my body getting exhausted from his weight and from the endless orgasm. My smile had to be almost tattooed on my face by now, too, and I knew for sure I was going to have a hickey from him going to town on my neck and shoulders. I felt him slow his pumping, then the pumps became stabs. He latched his mouth onto my ear, like he might draw blood, and he laid his entire weight dead on me, and his penis went as deep as it was going to go as it inflated to its maxim. His cock head did touch right to the tip of my cervix, I felt the hard pounding, and for ten strokes I felt his sperm flood my hole.
My son was cumming inside me. His sperm was shooting right at my cervix, I felt the hot splash everywhere. His cock already filled me up so much that the cum was running out of my cunt instantly. The mix of his cum and mine was making such a sloppy mess I could feel from my thighs to my crack. My orgasm was making my body alternately tense to the breaking point and relax to limp. I had had an orgasm for ten full minutes, and my son was now having his orgasm inside my body. Inside his loving mommy's body.
As I could feel the cum stopping, I heard him say it again.
He whispered in my ear, "mommy..."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone