Sun in the Morning, Son in the MorningbyNewAnon©
I had looked forward to the upcoming summer. The semester had ended, my grading and other duties done and I had looked forward to a several months of leisure. A year before, the divorce settlement had come through and as a result I had the spacious house to myself, located in a secluded area far from the din of the city, with no tiresome grouchy husband to worry about. At forty-five, I felt on top of the world, except for one thing. I was a woman with a strong but very private imagination. To be explicit, I thought a lot about sex. But I wasn't getting any. I don't know why, but the men I had contact with didn't interest me. Almost every one of them came on to me at one point or another. I guess my appearance had something to do with it. I have to admit I'm the sort of woman who looks both experienced and wanting experience, if you know what I mean.
Yet, in truth, I was very shy and didn't like the men who came on to me. So, instead of the real thing, much of my free time was consumed with sexual fantasies, including read stories at Literotica.com. That's what prompted me to write this story. I know, you'll think it is just fiction. I agree that it began that way, so to speak, because I dreamt about it before it ever happened. But, in the end, it really did happen. I'll try to "tell like it was," even though it may seem incredible.
That summer, my son Bill had come home to visit for a few weeks shortly after my classes at the university were done.
On arriving, he had let me know that he had an every day ritual in which he arose very early to jog, then return to shower and have breakfast. I promised to have his coffee ready by the time he had showered, getting up somewhat later. So, one day after another, we enjoyed the warm lazy days, sitting in the kitchen, sipping coffee and talking about one thing or another. One feature of the kitchen was a huge window through which the morning sun would shine, and we would feel its warmth as we sat there looking out upon the green grass, hearing the birds sing, admiring the blue sky and the far-off mountain range. It was so nice, that sun in the morning.
And so nice, that son in the morning.
Bill was easy to talk to and good to look at. At twenty-five, he had become quite a hunk, a lithe tall young man with a deep tan and an engaging smile. After this shower, he usually came down wearing only his shorts without any self-consciousness about it. And I didn't mind at all since after my morning shower I was usually preparing breakfast just wearing a long T-shirt with no bra over fresh panties. I am a tall, heavy-set woman and, as I said earlier, I like to think I am good-looking. I would notice him glance at my prominent breasts on occasion, but thought as little of it as my own admiration for his handsome body -- at least, consciously. I think that neither of us, at that time, had any thought of anything sexual between us ... until that morning.
There are dreams and there is reality. I had always made a sharp distinction between the two. My sometimes frenzied dream-states- actually day-dream states that I produced and directed with my imaginative skills - never intersected with the mundane reality of being a Mom enjoying being with her only son, especially during those warm, lazy summer mornings of harmless chit-chat about this and that.
As I say, that all changed that one pleasant sunny morning.
That particular morning, after my shower, I looked over at the new shoes I had purchased the day before, treating myself to the expensive item. The warmth of the morning sun filtered into the room and I just felt so good, so glad to be alive, that the shoes suddenly seemed the thing to wear, even though I was otherwise dressed as usual and had no plans to go out. When I had tried them on in the store, they had felt so ... feminine, sexy. A woman nearby had said, "Wow, those are fantastic!" The heels did the trick, I think. I had never worn shoes with such high heels before but the sheer feel of them, the way they made me feel - well, I couldn't resist. So, that morning, I came downstairs with the new high-heeled shoes to start the coffee going.
When Bill came down to the kitchen, fresh from his shower, there was something different about him too. His briefs were the tiniest I had ever seen and the outline of his private parts was far more noticeable than usual. I gulped and looked away after greeting him. And he had noticed something new too.
"Hey, Mom, I like the shoes!"
"Oh, yes, Honey, I just decided to try them on, bought them yesterday."
"Incredible," Bill whispered as he ogled my body, causing me to blush. His eyes worked up from the shoes to my belly to my breasts where I felt rather than saw the nipples harden and thereby show-up from under the tight-fitting T-shirt I had thrown on.
We sat and sipped our coffee.
"Hey, Mom, do you go out much these days?" he asked.
"If you mean dates, the answer is ... no," I replied and then had a thought of my own.
"What about you, honey, lots of girls?"
"Well, I don't know if its 'lots,' but some, you know how it is."
Where he was sitting, with his long legs lazily spread out, I had a view of his entire body. The briefs had done it, I think. I couldn't keep my eyes away from him. I found myself studying his bare feet, then his tanned long legs, then his ... mid-section, with his semi-erect organ outlined against the briefs.
By the time my eyes reached his handsome face, I saw his own eyes studying my body. I admit that my breasts are not average, by any means. Unlike some women with large breasts, I love to be free of a bra and feel them sway as I walk. So they droop a little, who cares? Men usually focus on them no matter what I wear. And now pressed against my bright white and tight T-shirt, they were an especially attractive target for roving eyes. Bill was no different than any other man in that respect. I felt a little tingle run through me as my nipples hardened.
I walked over the large kitchen counter, turning my back to him. My ogling his body had been too obvious. Yet, despite a voice in my mind that cautioned me to stop, I felt myself propelled into something that felt exciting, something I couldn't name or locate on any map.
"How many women have you had, honey?" I felt my ears become somewhat warm as I asked the intimate question.
There was a silence and I felt terrible for a moment, but then he replied with a laugh.
"Do you mean, how many have I fucked, Mom?" He said it with no sense of saying anything taboo. A new and more frank generation, I guess. I found the word produced a tremor in me. It was one of those words that change the boundary between fantasy and reality. I wasn't at all sure, at that point, that I wanted such a thing to happen, even if I was entering the boundary zone.
"Don't talk that way," I said, blushing.
"Okay, Mom, sorry. How many have I gone to bed with? Let's see ... hmm ... I'd say about twenty."
"Twenty!" I replied, shocked. "That's ... a large number."
"Oh, I don't know, maybe .... How about you, Mom?
"What do you mean?" My ears were now red, I knew, but my back was still turned to him as I buttered some toast. I found the conversation gave me a thrill.
"You know ... how many men have you had?" he replied.
"Well, actually ...." I was blushing. I hated to admit it. "Only your father."
"Wow! Mom! You can't mean it! A babe like you!"
"Bill, what do you mean?"
I had turned to stare at him, leaning against the counter, forgetting about the toast.
He began to stare hungrily at the outline of my erect nipples. I felt myself turn to liquid. The boundary was dissolving quickly, maybe too quickly, but somehow I didn't want to stop it.
"Mom, you're ... incredibly sexy. Don't you want to be ... to have ... you know, don't you want ... physical love?"
His handsome face was flushed now too. My eyes involuntarily shifted down his lanky body and I was shocked to see his excited state. The briefs could not conceal that he was fully erect as he stared me, his own mother!
I knew we should stop but I felt so hot, so tingling, so ... thrilled. My own son! Talking to me that way, looking at me that way. My nipples were very hard. My panties were soaked with my juices. My heart was beating rapidly and my chest was heaving, making my breasts even more of a lure for his lustful stare.
I turned again and faced away from him, my hands moving aimlessly on the counter.
Suddenly he was behind me. I felt his fingers drift quietly along my shoulders, gently moving my hair out of the way as he kissed my neck.
"Mom," he whispered, "you're so beautiful." I felt his groin press a little against me.
That was all I could say because now my body was on fire, my pussy incredibly wet, my skin tingling.
His hands roamed down my arms, gentle as a morning breeze, his lips moving across my neck. What made me so warm at that moment? Was it the morning sun? No, it was the morning son, his organ pressed against me, his hands moving across my bare flesh, his kiss sending thrills through my body.
"Mom," he whispered again, "you're so lovely, so incredibly lovely."
His hands left my arms and now crept under my T-shirt. His fingers danced down my spine and I felt the goose bumps rise.
I threw back my head and closed my eyes. I didn't want to think about anything. I wanted only the warm sunny morning, the birds chirping outside, the aroma of coffee mixed with the scent of a man.
"Oh Mom, I've wanted to touch you all these weeks."
"Oh Bill, Bill, we can't," I whispered but did nothing to stop his hands as they played their music on my eager body.
I felt the T-shirt rising, then I was blind for a moment as it passed my face, and then ... his hands on my breasts, cupping them.
"Oh, Bill, Bill," I swooned as my son, my once little boy, my own boy, lifted my breasts with his knowing hands and tweaked my nipples as he massaged them while his lips ran across my neck, my shoulders, my arms.
I couldn't take it any longer. I turned to face him.
"Kiss me, Bill, kiss your mother!" I cried, throwing all remaining caution to the winds, casting myself into his arms, pressing against his hard manhood.
Our mouths met in taboo lust, tongues twirling their way into each other, probing and sucking and licking.
I wanted him! My pussy was so hot, so wet! I was boiling over, the heat was too much! The boundary zone of fantasy and reality had dissolved. My feverish imaginings were now becoming real! And I wanted them to become real.
I helped him push down my panties and off they went so that I was now I pressed against him with only my high-heeled shoes on.
I was pure hot passionate woman, wet beyond belief, embracing her own grown-up son in the kitchen. My boy! My lover!
I pressed his briefs down as our mouths sucked at each other. I felt his organ! My son's prick!
I became wild. Nothing mattered anymore.
I signaled something and he lifted me to the counter and lay on it, kicking off the few utensils, one leg splayed up toward the closet and the other pointed out where he held it as he began sucking my toes and running his hand over my wide open thighs. His eyes were glowing with passion as he sucked. I saw his body trembling as we went over and into that beckoning lure of sexuality where taboos are ignored as the animal body and human imagination combine to generate lust, lust, lust! The greater the taboo, the greater the lust! My own son!
I lifted my ass from the counter and pointed my hot wet center toward him.
"I need it, now, now!" I cried without knowing what I meant exactly but my body was demanding more as I moved my ass up and down on the counter, up and out, waiting for more, more of whatever I could get from my beautiful boy!
His mouth ran along my thigh, laving it and then he was near my hot liquid lips surrounded by my blonde bush. I spread further and reached for his head to press him toward my urgent cauldron of passion.
"Eat me, eat me, lover!" I cried in sexual delirium.
I pressed his head down and ground my cunt into his face. His tongue worked madly at my clit and my labia. He seemed almost in a rage as he licked and sucked my juices.
"Oh, Mom!" he whispered hungrily as he made love to my cunt.
I felt a surge of something I had not felt before.
"Oh, bastard, oh shit, oh goddamn it," I cried.
I was calling out with my teeth clenched, any motherly love replaced by sheer lust. It was a need to great that even what was in progress was not enough. I needed, demanded more. More!
I pushed his face in further and then ground my hot wet cunt against it, moving it round and round as if I were fucking his mouth, his nose, his eyes, and even, at one point, turning his head and rubbing myself against his ears and then moving it against his chin to see his wild eyes meet mine. I was in command, or, rather, the sexual beast in me was in command.
I pushed him away and onto a chair and stood before him. I brought his face to my breasts and didn't need to urge him as he commenced to lick and suck. It drove me wild. My son sucking my breasts!
"I want you!" I cried.
He had used the word earlier and I had objected. But now the word was in my mind! Fuck! Now I wanted to hear it, to use it! The word, the act, all together in a steaming sexual stew that would eat away at any societal barriers and carry us into the heaven of mother-son loving!
"I want us to fuck!" I cried out. "I want you in my body, everywhere,"
I climbed on him.
I pounded up and down on his prick while muttering wild things. "Fuck! We're fucking, lover! Oh, Bill, baby, we're fucking!"
Then he whispered, "I've wanted to fuck you for a long time, Mom. I used to jerk off thinking about it."
It was a thrill to hear this. "You wanted to fuck your own mother!"
"Oh, yes, Mom, yes. And these last few weeks! I wanted to suck your big beautiful breasts, suck your toes, make love to your big hot body, fucking you Mom, fucking you!"
"Oh, baby, yes, yes," I muttered as an orgasm swept over me.
I climbed off him and kneeled in front of him and pushed him up. My hands played over his hard muscular legs and taught belly as I began my kissing and licking him all over.
"Oh, Mom, yes," he cried as my lips went to his beautiful organ. I kissed it up and down and then licked his balls and then went back up and licked at the head again and then took the entire long, hard, thick, pulsating cock in my mouth and sucked and sucked.
"Mom, Mom, oh fantastic!"
I paused for a moment and looked up.
"I've wanted this for a long time," I said urgently, "I've wanted to see it, touch it, kiss it, suck it, be fucked by it ... your beautiful cock!"
"Make love to it, Mom!" he whispered as I sucked it as deep as I could.
I felt him coming but did not want it to end yet. I stood up and licked his chest and face.
"I want us to fuck forever," I cried out in a sexual frenzy, "I want it now, later, tomorrow, always. I want you in my mouth, between my breasts, in my cunt, everywhere! I want you to cum all over me and in me."
My wild crazy dirty talk drove him crazy.
"Where else, Mom? Where else do you want your boy?"
"Everywhere you want to go, baby, I'm yours!"
He flipped me down on the kitchen table and I spread for him.
I went over the top. My voice came out as a harsh command, my teeth clenched in the passionate agony of wanting him in me, in everyplace at once if only it were possible!
I don't know why, but somehow, through that whole wild morning, I kept cursing and commanding, becoming a self that I had never been before, even in my wildest dreams.
"Yes, yes, fuck me, Bill, fuck your whore mother, you bastard!"
He climbed on me and I felt his cock plow into me with a force that took my breath away. Now his tone imitated mine, becoming harsh and commanding, sending out a ferocious whispered train of hot exciting words.
"I'm fucking you now, you hot bitch! Your boy is fucking you like you always wanted it. You used to dream about it, didn't you? You dreamt about your little Bill growing up and coming back to fuck you like this, wide open for your boy's eager cock?"
"Yes, yes, I dreamt it!"
It was true. I had put on a calm and motherly demeanor for him, a mask over the hot need I had felt for so long. Now I could admit it. Nothing mattered anymore except the glorious joy of making love to my son. At last!
"Fuck me, you bastard, fuck your mother!"
My words came out like bullets from a gun, demanding, commanding, harsh.
"You hot mother-cunt!" he replied in kind. "You wanted me in you everywhere. You dreamt about my prick in your mouth, didn't you?"
"You dreamt about this, my prick in your hot wet cunt, didn't you?"
"Oh yes, yes."
"You dreamt about more, too, didn't you?"
He was fucking me blind and it just served to rev-up my sexual imagination even more.
"Yes, yes, you bastard, I dreamt about more." I whispered.
"You dreamt about your boy fucking you in the ass, didn't you?"
"Hot fucking mother-bitch, you're going to get it now!"
With that he pulled out of me. I lay there panting, my body drenched in sweat, my pussy leaking. He was doing something at the counter. The butter! Oh God! I'm going to take it there! This was new to me!
I turned and went on my knees. I lifted my ass toward him, trembling with anticipation. I pressed my face down against the floor, closed my eyes and waited. My entire body was filled with goose bumps. I had dreamt about it, and now ....
I felt his finger probe me, feeling the buttery entry. In a moment, I felt it replaced by the head of his thick cock. I felt a stab of pain as he entered. He backed off, waiting.
"Do it!" I commanded urgently.
He re-entered and I pushed back at him, ignoring the discomfort. Suddenly, he was in me!
"Oh, God, oh, yes," I said through clenched teeth.
Now he was fucking my ass, in and out, picking up the pace. The heat was enormous. Nothing had ever felt so good! This was new! This was incredible!
"This is what I wanted, you bastard, you hot mother-fucking bastard, give it to your mom!"
"Now you're the mother whose taking it up the ass! Now your boy is fucking you where you always wanted it, didn't you?"
"Yes, yes, fuck my hot ass, you bastard, you mother-fucking bastard!"
Then, in a moment, I had another orgasm as I felt him coming into me.
When he stopped, he fell against me as I fell further to the floor. What a picture we must have made: a tall woman with large breasts, her face to the floor, her legs splayed out, her feet adorned with high-heeled shoes, the young man on top of her, naked, sweating, his prick semi-erect and paused in the midst of a passionate episode of taboo loving.
I turned and Bill moved off me. He lay there, his chest still pounding, sweat covering his handsome tanned body. I began at his face and began licking him: his lips, his neck, his nipples, his belly. I took his now semi-erect organ in my mouth and sucked it clean, then licked his balls and his inner thighs. I felt overwhelmed with love for him as I did all this, continuing down to his feet, licking his toes and then sucking quietly for a while on one big toe. He lay there quietly as I proceeded to enact my loving feelings. I licked my way back up to his organ, now growing again. I licked it as it grew, then bent over him and sucked. He probed upward into my mouth to meet me. My loving boy! My man! My son! I felt him coming and kept at it until he shot his cum up into my mouth. I choked for a moment then swallowed and then went back for more until he collapsed back down and his prick softened in my motherly mouth.
My love, my son in the morning! What joy we had that summer day, in the morning, with the sun warming our bodies.