I pushed open the front door, the familiar scent of home—lavender laundry detergent, warm vanilla from the diffuser, and the faint, unmistakable musk of my mother's arousal—wrapping around me like a welcome embrace. College had dragged on longer than usual, and my cock had been half-hard the entire lecture, throbbing against my zipper with every memory of breakfast.
"Mom?" I called, kicking off my shoes.
Her voice floated from the bedroom, soft and husky.
"In here, baby. You came home just in time. Come sit beside me while I fold the clothes."
I walked down the hall, pulse already quickening.
She sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, surrounded by neat piles of freshly laundered sheets and towels. She wore nothing but an oversized white button-down of mine—unbuttoned completely, hanging open to reveal the full swell of her heavy breasts, dark nipples already stiff and begging for attention. Her thighs were spread wide, knees bent and feet planted on the mattress, giving me an unobstructed view of her pussy: swollen, flushed deep pink, lips parted and glistening with a thick sheen of arousal that dripped slowly onto the comforter in shiny trails.
She smiled at me, eyes dark and knowing, then patted the spot right beside her.
"Sit, love. Keep me company."
I dropped my bag and sat close—close enough that our thighs pressed together, her heat radiating against my leg.
She resumed folding a towel, slow and deliberate, but her legs stayed shamelessly open, the wet folds of her cunt flexing slightly with each breath.
I didn't ask permission.
I simply reached between her thighs, slid two fingers along her slick entrance, and pushed inside.
She was soaked—hot, velvety walls gripping my knuckles instantly, sucking me deeper with a greedy little flutter. The wet squelch was loud in the quiet room, obscene and perfect. I curled my fingers upward, stroking that spongy spot that made her gasp, then pumped steadily—slow at first, then faster, curling and scissoring, feeling her inner muscles ripple and clench around me.
Her breathing hitched.
The towel she was folding slipped from her fingers.
"Baby…" she moaned, hips rolling to meet my thrusts. "Right there… fuck, yes…"
I leaned in, mouth brushing her ear.
"Give me your panties, Mom. The soaked ones from this morning."
She didn't hesitate.
She reached behind her, grabbed the tiny black lace thong she'd worn earlier—still damp, the crotch darkened and sticky with her juices—and pressed it into my free hand.
I brought them to my face and inhaled deeply.
The scent hit me like a drug: rich, tangy, feminine, mixed with the faint trace of her morning orgasm and my own dried cum from when I'd rubbed against her at breakfast. I groaned, low and feral, and buried my nose right into the wet gusset, tongue darting out to taste the salty-sweet fabric.
One hand kept finger-fucking her—three fingers now, stretching her open, thumb grinding tight circles over her swollen clit.
The other hand yanked my zipper down, freed my cock—thick, veiny, already leaking pre-cum in steady beads—and I wrapped my fist around the base, stroking hard and fast while I pressed her soaked panties harder against my face.
The room filled with sound:
- The wet, rhythmic schlick-schlick of my fingers plunging into her dripping cunt.
- Her soft, broken moans rising in pitch.
- The slick slide of my hand pumping my shaft, skin slapping skin.
- My own ragged breathing muffled against the lace.
Her thighs started trembling.
Her inner walls clamped down on my fingers like a vise, fluttering wildly.
"Baby—oh god—Mommy's gonna come—"
I sped up, curling my fingers deeper, thumb pressing mercilessly on her clit.
She shattered with a sharp cry, pussy gushing around my hand in hot, pulsing waves. Fresh slick poured out, running down my wrist and soaking the sheets beneath her.
The sight—her head thrown back, breasts heaving, cunt spasming on my fingers—sent me over.
I came hard, groaning into her panties, thick ropes of cum erupting over my fist and splattering onto my stomach in hot, sticky spurts. My cock jerked with each pulse, milking every last drop while her scent filled my lungs.
We stayed like that for long moments—panting, trembling, connected by slick fingers and soaked fabric.
Finally, she caught her breath, gently eased my hand from between her legs, and kissed me deeply—tongue sliding against mine, tasting herself on me.
"I'm going to take a bath, love," she whispered, voice wrecked and satisfied. "You should rest."
She stood, legs shaky, a fresh trickle of her release running down her inner thigh.
She gave my softening cock one last affectionate stroke, then walked toward the bathroom, hips swaying, leaving me sprawled on the bed with her panties still clutched in my hand and the taste of her lingering on my tongue.
I smiled lazily, licked my fingers clean, and let sleep pull me under—already dreaming of when she'd come back to bed.
I woke to the most exquisite sensation: the hot, slick weight of my mother draped fully across me, her naked body flush against mine, skin fever-warm and soft as velvet.
Her heavy breasts pressed into my chest, nipples hard little points dragging over my skin with every slow breath. Between her spread thighs, her dripping pussy was already nestled right against the thick length of my morning erection—lips parted, swollen, and so wet that every tiny shift sent fresh arousal trickling down my shaft, mixing with the sticky remnants of last night's release still clinging to us both.
She wasn't trying to take me inside.
Not yet.
She was just… rubbing.
Slow, deliberate glides of her soaked folds along the underside of my cock, coating me from base to tip in her slick heat. The combined mess—my dried cum from hours ago and her endless arousal—made every slide obscenely slippery, a wet, sticky glide that produced the softest, filthiest schlick with each roll of her hips. Her clit caught on the sensitive ridge beneath my head every time she dragged upward, making her shiver and whimper against my neck.
I opened my eyes and met hers—dark, heavy-lidded, filled with that possessive, endless love that only we shared.
She smiled, soft and wicked, then leaned down.
Our lips met in a slow, deep kiss.
I parted my mouth instantly, tongue sliding against hers, tasting the faint sweetness of sleep and the salt of her desire. We kissed like we were starving—wet, hungry, tongues tangling, saliva mixing and spilling from the corners of our mouths. She moaned into me, the sound vibrating through my chest, while her hips never stopped their torturous rhythm.
The friction was unbearable in the best way.
Her pussy lips molded around my shaft, hugging it, sliding up and down with increasing pressure. The head of my cock nudged her clit over and over, smearing her wetness across us both until we were both drenched, glistening, the bed sheet beneath my hips soaked through. Every glide dragged my pre-cum and her slick together into a warm, slippery mess that dripped down my balls and pooled against my skin.
I gripped her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, guiding her just a little harder, a little faster.
She gasped into my mouth, breaking the kiss only to nip at my lower lip, then dove back in—deeper, messier, tongues fucking each other while her cunt ground down on my cock like she was trying to brand me with her heat.
The tension coiled tighter, a slow-building fire in my balls, spreading up my spine.
Her breathing turned ragged against my lips, small desperate whimpers escaping every time her clit dragged over the leaking slit at my tip. Her thighs trembled around my waist, breasts heaving against me, nipples scraping my chest with every roll.
I felt her start to unravel first.
Her inner walls fluttered against nothing, clit pulsing hard against my shaft. A fresh gush of slick poured out, coating me completely, running in hot rivulets down my length and pooling on my stomach.
She broke the kiss with a sharp, broken cry—"Baby—oh god—Mommy's coming—"
Her whole body seized, hips jerking erratically as she came hard, pussy spasming, clit throbbing against me in frantic little pulses. Her release soaked us both, warm and endless.
The sight of her—face flushed, eyes glassy with pleasure, mouth open in a silent scream—shoved me over the edge.
I groaned deep in my throat, hips bucking up into her slippery heat, cock jerking as thick, hot spurts erupted between us. Rope after rope painted her folds, her mound, my stomach—mixing with her wetness until we were both drenched in our combined release.
We shuddered together, panting, trembling, locked in that perfect, filthy moment.
Finally, she collapsed forward, breasts pillowing against my chest, her face nuzzling into the crook of my neck.
She pressed soft, loving kisses along my jaw, then one final, tender one to my forehead.
"Good night, my sweetheart," she whispered, voice wrecked and full of adoration.
She shifted just enough to wrap her arms around me, pulling me close like I was her favorite teddy bear.
Her thighs stayed draped over mine, our sticky, spent bodies pressed together, her pussy still gently pulsing against my softening cock.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, buried my face in her hair—smelling of shampoo and sex—and let sleep pull us both under, tangled, sated, and utterly owned by each other.