For Mom, The Son Also Rises

Brad began to feel he was going crazy. The heat in his temples, the dryness of his mouth, the throbbing and pulsing in his dick set him to fire and on fire. Brad couldn't help making the next move, even if he got slapped and reprimanded. It was now or never, wherever "now" was leading and whatever "never" was supposed to happen.

He nervously slipped both his palms into his mother's brassiere. He began kneading her nipples and tit flesh. Before she had a chance to respond, he brought his lips to her full, lush lips and thrust his tongue in. He was in for a surprise. Mom's lips were already parted. As soon as his tongue entered her mouth, it was met by her tongue. Hers flickered, slithered, danced, and wrestled with his. Another surprise. Karin moaned into his mouth. Her hands grasped his wrists tighter, but they did not push them away from her now heaving breasts. Brad's cock was twitching so hard now that he was sure he was about to cum.

What followed is something Brad "never" expected would ever happen. His mother seemed to enjoy what was happening. "Ummmmm…oooooooo…mmmmm" were the sounds his mother moaned into his mouth as her tongue flailed his. Her hands went to his head and pushed him toward her breasts. It was all happening as if in a sultry, forbidden dream. It seemed so real, hyper-real, like those wet dreams about "MOM," the one to which every nineteen year-old young man wakes up, flustered, excited, and covered in his own manly essence, the dream that is too hot to forget, and too shocking to dare remember.

Brad went with the dream, moving quickly before he had to wake up. He bent down his head and with his lips, pulled away the brassiere to get to her hard, sweet, rubbery nipples. Into his hungry mouth went her warm, moist, sweet spongy tit flesh. He found and began to suckle her sweet, hard nipples. They tasted of that milky, sweet flavour he had so loved in women, and these were just a bit musky, too–––like in his murky but hot wet dream. It was as if the images of Playboy, the thrill of tasting his first girlfriend's body, and the mysterious, moist, fleshy and primal pleasure of feeding upon Mom were combined all in one incredible, hyper-real Moment.

"Ohh, God, yes," is what Brad thought. This was no dream. This was that teenage boy's wet dream as a surreal, hyper reality. As Brad suckled on his mother's nipples, making them hard and long, Karin reached around and unhooked her brassiere. Now Brad's cock was throbbing so hard it felt like a piston pumping just before the engine set into first gear.

He suckled more and more of Mom's sweet tits into his mouth, one by one. He prayed the dream wouldn't end. It didn't. He would push the envelope. So, Brad slid his hand into the waistband of his mother's black lace panties, grasping and kneading her round ass. It was now undulating and thrusting. As Brad suckled, kissed, and bit her nipples and squeezed her ass, Mom began to moan loudly. This was no dream. Then a bit of "reality" began to enter the Moment.

She started to talk to him, telling him that she knew he had a bit too much to drink, too much to deal with, and too much heartache to do what he was doing on purpose. As she was pardoning, forgiving, but gently reprimanding him, Brad had to push the intrusion of a mother's realism out of his dream reality. He moved his hand right into her panties, right where they tiny black fabric covered her ass. Under the panty waistband went his hand. It continued to glide under her hips, and right up between her thighs. It didn't stop. In a fraction of a second that seemed like a decade, his fingertips touched the first bristly hairs of his mother's pussy bush.

Suddenly startled, Karin began to protest. Reality threatened. But still his hand crept up. His fingertips strained that extra half-inch. They were rewarded. The skin of his two fingers were electrified with the sudden feel of two very moist pussy lips:

"WAIT…Wai...Wwwaoooo…Oooooh!" Her protest ended in a gasp. But that ending was the beginning of something strange and wonderful for Brad: a low, heated grunt growled in Mom's throat. Brad was now at the crossroad. His hand was covering her cunt. His fingers were rubbing his mother's slippery, greasy pussy lips. His fingers, wet with the juice of her pussy lips, found her hood. It was teased until it gave up a hard, rubbery nub. Brad had begun rubbing his mother's now hard, rubbery clit. Some part of his conscience was in full alarm. He wanted to stop. He wanted to turn back the clock. He wanted to apologize to his mother. He wanted her to forget everything he did.

But the thing that Brad wanted to do more than anything else was pull down his mother's panties to get to her pussy.

His heart was pounding. His mind was reeling. His senses were swirling as if in a maelstrom. He had to know. He had to experience it. He had to have it. He had to reach for the waistband of her black bikini panties. Brad did. He just had to peel them off her. Brad did. He had to take her garter belt off, too. Brad did. With mouth as dry as Death Valley days, and his cock was as hard as Chinese algebra, Brad slipped his Mom's tiny black lace panties down her long, shapely legs, down to her ankles and then off of her pretty feet.

Mom just watched him, opened mouthed. But she lifted her ass up so that he could remove that which blocked what he just had to see. Brad surely noted that. Her garter went the same way.

He went back and peeled off her sheer black stockings, one long shapely leg at a time. She watched him his every move, leaning back on the couch and supporting herself with her hands. She did not stop him. Then, Brad moved up over her. As he did, his mother laid down on her back, on the couch, nude. Her breasts were heaving. She was breathing heavily. Her breath sounded loud, moist, and broken. Her big tits sagged just a bit to either side. They were rising and falling like two boats moored off the shore. She lay before him naked, and made no move to cover herself or stop her son.

But she tried to give him a chance to stop himself at the Moment and on the spot. She began to tell him, again, and tell him firmly that she knew he had a bit too much to drink. As she did, Brad stripped off his shirt. As she spoke, she became aware that her son was now bare-chested. She still didn't cover herself up. Karin then told him that he had had too much to deal with, and perhaps too little support from her to handle it all.

As she said this, Brad kicked off his shoes, tore off his socks, and stripped off his pants. Karin continued, but now she became aware that her son was now down to his underwear. It was a tight fit. Her beloved son was in one of those tight, tiny black bikini for men. They showed everything. That's when Karin admitted to it herself: her son had a lot to show.

In fact, he was hot. Even with the bikini underwear still on him, Karin could see that her son's cock was big, and his balls were taut. She started up again, but Karin's words caught in her throat. When she finely found the words, her voice was now a bit ragged, shaky, and she was speaking way too distractedly. Her son wasn't listening now. Karin was up to the part where her son had experienced too much heartache in too short a time to be doing what he was doing on purpose, when she stopped mid sentence. Brad had just peeled off his underwear and let them fall in a puddle at his feet.

Karin's eyes opened in a dreamy, fluttering stare. She gazed upon her son. He was naked. His body was taut, beautiful, and rippling with heat. His cock was hard, so very hard. It throbbed and bounced with each beat of his pounding heart. Karin wondered what to do. Her son was so beautiful, too beautiful for a mother to gaze upon. And too beautiful to turn away.

Brad looked at his sweet, sensitive mother. She was spread nude on her back on the backless love seat. She was spread nude, helpless to prevent a fucking she never expected, a fucking from her own flesh and blood. He gazed hotly over her.

His eyes wandered over her big, gorgeous tits and their long, hard nipples; his eyes scrutinized her tummy, fleshy with just a tiny hint of punch befitting a middle-aged beauty, but still so firm, with a beautiful navel winking at his gaze; his eyes drank in his mother's black furry strip of a pussy bush, with its wet and swollen lips unfolding like mature rose petals before his eyes. A twinge of conscience cut through him. He could stop. He didn't have to defile his mother. He didn't have to commit the greatest taboo between mother and son. He didn't have to condemn himself or his mother to the crime they were to commit.

Then, Brad glanced once again at his mother's big, shapely, cock-stiffing tits, with just the hint of middle-age sag, with their dark brown areolas and red rose nipples, hard and veiny. They were rising up and down with the frightened, excited breath coming from his mother's full-lipped and opened mouth. He saw her tummy, shimmering with the dew of arousal, its 'innie" navel winking at him.

He gazed upon her dark thatch of pussy fur, a perfect "V" of bristly hair coalescing between her hard, thick thighs, which ran down into long, marble-smooth legs. He could smell the sweet musky aroma wafting from her vagina, and the sweet tang of her sweat from her underarms, neck, breasts, and every pore in her now undulating body. The aromas and sights curled and caressed Brad's senses, from his cock to his brain, tugging, jerking, and pulling on toward the logical conclusion of a hot, illogical dream.

And before Brad's conscience could figure out a way to awaken a son from his most forbidden and desired dream, he was already positioning himself on top and between the legs of his sweet innocent mother. Afraid that his engorged cock would too quickly release the building, burning magma within, Brad was swiftly but gently began lowering his nude hardness onto her fleshy, warm nakedness. Karin's eyes opened wider. She began to know just what would happen next. She began to know that nothing else could, and it was all unfolding, as were her legs and the heaving of her big, firm tits.

Before she could even process all of this, she began lifting her long legs up and pulling her knees apart. Her hands were splayed lightly on his hard, tight hips. A mother's conscience was losing its final battle to stay above the surging tide of a woman's passion. Karin was a woman in that Moment, the Moment when she knows it is about to happen, and welcoming its inevitability, fearing and yet hungering for her own surrender to it. And as a mother's conscience slipped beneath the waves of arousal, Karin's surging tide was pulling her son's very hard penis toward her creamy, slippery center.

She realized that this time there were no barriers of fabric, circumstance, or guilt, taboos, father and husband to block what was about to unite. As a Mom's micro black bikini panties and son's tight, tiny black bikini underwear were lying on the floor, it was happening. Karin knew then just where her son was going.

Brad's penis fumbled for the slippery groove between her hairy mound and her puckered brown star. He rubbed his twitching penis over the bristly hair on her mound searching for her nest, before slipping the rubbery penis helmet down to the thick, swollen labia. He followed the hot wetness and was rewarded. His rubbery helmet head pushed up against the two swollen, slick, slippery lips. Karin shivered.

Brad was rubbing the head of his cock up and down his mother's slit and upon her swollen nub, preparing her, begging her, commanding her, proving to her that his flesh would once again fill every part of her womanhood, every sweltering, moist fold, crevice, and depth with the flesh of his flesh, the hard heat of his manhood, and the fruit of her own womb. Her vagina, her lips, her clit itched to be found by her son's hunger.

That's when son's cock had found them all. By then it was too late for her to stifle her moans of pleasure. Moan the mother did. So did her son; her pussy lips felt so slippery and hot on his dick. A son rubbed his mother's pussy lips harder with his hot manhood, coaxing and teasing those creamy, greasy lips open, teasing the gated, hallowed Eden open for a return to paradise lost. Soon, Brad made his next move.

The return had begun. He began pressing into her now very creamy, slippery slit. This was a whole new, exciting type of "comforting." First, his pulsing purple head pressed into his mother's love hole. Brad's dick plowed in just enough to make her eyes pop open wide and force a breath hotly from her open mouth. But it did more than that. The hard, rubbery head of her son's penis was stretching his Mom's moist lips wide open, splitting them apart. It felt so hot and velvety inside, as if her vaginal tunnel were lined in melted sugar, satin and rose petals, all basted in a hot dripping butter, gripping and sucking in his quivering dick as a warm, puckering mouth does a sweet cherry lollipop.

Karin was panting, closing her eyes, and giving in to a tingling, hot pleasure so intense that she couldn't bear to see the beautiful, naked man who was causing it. But he felt so good. She had to look, nonetheless. Half opening her eyes, Karin stared down between her now heaving, big breasts to see such a sight. Brad pulled out. For a moment there was breathless anticipation. What would happen now? Then she felt his cockhead begin to slide into her, again.

He felt big, really big. But his Mom was wet and she was spreading her hot, Mommy thighs even wider for him. At that instant, Brad started to feed the rest of his big cock inside. His mother gasped, "Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh," dropping her head back, fluttering her eyes, and rolling back under the sudden assault of taboo's pure pleasure invading her womanhood.

It was not "going to happen." It was already happening, and Karin knew it. Now she knew as never before the real meaning, the real blissful crises of the word: "fucking." Her own son was fucking her. It seemed like so many of those dreams Mom had had, but had never spoken of, too. It felt so good that she gave in to it, welcomed it, and savoured it, whispering, "Ohhh, fuck…Oooooo, fuck…OOOOOO, FUCK" hotly from her moist lips. This signaled the gravity of the Mother and Son's sin, and how hot, wicked, and so good it all felt.

Brad heard Karin's open-mouthed exclamations. He knew what they meant: Permission granted. Pushing forward, he started penetrating deeper into her wet cunt. Mom was feeding him, too. She was feeding him all that he had hungered for and had once starved himself of out of such fear, for so long: to be between Mommy's strong thighs, to have his cock deep inside Mommy's cunt. This was the return to paradise, even if it meant damnation eternal.

She wasn't stopping him. She wasn't slowing him. She wasn't in anyway doing anything to fight the swelling, searing warmth of the sun rising and spreading from deep between her thighs, rising from the deepest folds, from the molten core of her pussy. And he wouldn't stop until he had her, took her, impaled her, and yes, that ending, yes, that ending in which he would fill her, return to her, leaving a seeds of himself again, planted so deeply and safely in her womb.

He loved the feel of her slippery, tight, wetness. He loved the sweet smell of her pussy, the softness of her skin, feel of her big, firm tits squeezed bulging flat against his chest; the wetness that oozed not only from her cunt, but from every pore of mother and son. The sound of her moans and gasps drew him in, harder. He continued to push in, stronger now, burying his cock ever deeper in his mother's pussy.

This was a new, and very special type of "comforting," the inevitable, real "comforting," the one that both needed and wanted all along, the one that they, on some level, knew, hoped for, and finally did everything the could to make it happen. Karin was so excited. She struggled to keep herself in position as her son pushed his cock deeper inside of her, his hot meat melting whatever resistance the steamy, sticky, and slick buttery folds that a sexy mother's excited vagina could offer.

Brad's veiny shaft was so damned thick. As he pushed his hips forward, the heat and girth of his penis instantly began to "comfort" his own mother's pussy walls. Karin couldn't believe how big her son was and how well he knew how to use it. It seemed to take forever for Brad to push all of his thick, hot meat––from the tip to the base—all the way into Karin's love canal, and a little while longer for her to adjust to her boy's 7 or 8 inches of mother love. Finally, Brad's balls rested on Mom's anus. He really did it.

Both lay still in the moment. Their sex throbbed in excruciating pleasure as their mouths sighed in disbelief. A son's penis was buried all the way inside his mother's vagina. He really did it, and she let him. And he was so thick that he made Karin feel like she was losing her virginity all over again. Karin was gasping with pleasure. So was he. A son's cock was buried to the root of his mother's love canal, and neither Mom nor son had felt anything so intense and incredible, be it lover, girlfriend, or spouse.

There she was, a naked, gorgeous mother pinned to the love seat under the weight of her naked, sexy son. His balls were tight against her pelvis, and there was no denying it: Mom's son had a dick that felt so big, so hard, and so good, buried so deep in her wet, tight pussy. A part of her wished her philandering husband could see her now: she, Jim's wife, naked and spreading her legs open wide while Jim's own son was lying on top of her, naked, his hard penis buried in his mother's wet vagina, right up to the root her hot, grasping, and tingling love tunnel.

That's when Brad began to pull his penis out. Did he have second thoughts? If he did, what might she do or say, now that she wanted it so much. Karin whimpered in disappointment. "Where are you going," she seemed to gasp. Just before the penis was about to exit Karin's vagina, Brad pushed it back in again. This made her pussy quiver and secrete more hot, buttery juice in excitement. She moaned in gratitude.

The thick base of her son's penis rubbed down her clit perfectly as well. Karin sighed. She was relieved and happy. There was no denying it to herself, now. She was so ready. Brad repeated the new "comforting" technique," pulling his hard penis out and pushing back in. It was working. Karin's pussy had stretched, secreted, and juiced to accommodate her son's big, hot cock as he began to pump her.

Brad was "comforting" his mother by returning to her, reconnecting with her, filling her up with himself ––with his very hard penis, and he couldn't believe how good it felt. Her pussy had stretched and gushed to accommodate the taboo invader, making it part of her all over again.

She knew then how much her son really cared about her. She felt the hot moist breeze of his breath as his mouth nuzzled into her ear. He kept on thrusting his hips to fill and empty and fill again her love canal with all of his caring, hard cock.

Again and again, a very excited and beautiful mother felt power of virile love as her son's plunging cock was rubbing, stroking, and sculpting every sweet fold and depth of her dripping, sugary cunt walls.

Her vagina was so tight for a middle-aged mother, tight as if it hadn't been entered in so long a time.

Brad loved it. He loved the feel of her slippery, tight, wetness. His cock felt the slippery friction of her love canal's tight, buttery walls. They stroked, squeezed, and heated her son's dick with such slick, sweltering lubrication, drawing it in deeper on every thrust he made. Perfect. So perfect. It felt so amazingly good. So good, in fact, that Brad pushed in and pulled out again, and again, until he was soon thrusting in and out in a slow, deep, and steady rhythm.