My son D didn’t have to be taught how to have sex with mom. Like long lost lovers he just knows what my body needs. Unlike others, I don’t have to ask him or tell him what to do to me. I ache in ways no mother should for her son.
When I think about my son my heart feels like a boulder rolling down a step hill. The thudding and quickening makes me shudder. His touch makes my skin light on fire. I shouldn’t think these things because D is my son.
Yet, I do think these things. Despite the fact that he has a brother who is more athletically inclined. I prefer D because he’s smarter. Softer. His delicate fingers play on my skin like a piano. Tickling. Teasing. Making me want things no mother should want from a son.
Ever since that first day in the laundry when he drove his steel hard cock into my ready cunt, I’ve lusted for my son. I lay in bed next to his father, repulsed by the man I married. Drawn to the son I gave birth to.
The hole he emerged from as a bouncing baby boy is the hole he penetrates in a way no other lover has. When he spurts his young sperm deep inside me, I feel as if I am suffering a hundred little deaths.
Shamed by what we are doing, but never intending to stop.
We take every moment we can to do what we shouldn’t be doing. Sometimes there are days when he makes my pussy quiver all day long. I don’t know what it’s like to have a dry vagina anymore thanks to my son.
When we can’t phone fuck, I miss him. It’s clear though that we always pick up right where we left off.
My son never needs to be instructed on how to have sex with mom. He just does it right leaving Mom breathless and full of his fertile young seed.