A Mother's Touch Ch. 01

"Oh, please, I'm -"

"Indulge me."

"Fine." She looked up at him, the heat of his body making her breasts enlarge, her blood pumping harder, her cunt getting wet. "So, Adam, when you are... masturbating, god!, masturbating in your bedroom, when you feel you're about to come, you need to squeeze the head until the need disappears."

"See?"

"Was that good?"

"That was amazing. And I will follow your recommendation."

She leaned towards him, and he embraced Marge in his chest. "I'm happy you told me."

"It is weird having this talk with you, but it helped. And knowing you and dad went through the same, gosh, can't get that idea of you making him hard again with your mouth."

She hummed, listening to his heartbeat. His muscles were so protective, and her hand brushed over his biceps. He brought his head to her hair and gave a long kiss, inhaling her scent. Big hands kept her safe, and the magic of the moment was getting stronger. Marge was suddenly transported to her first time with Adam's father, so many years ago, returning to his protective figure, somewhere she always felt safe and loved. He was a few years older than her, the most confident men she ever met, and her stomach grew butterflies every single time he spoke to her.

Platonic, she told herself, purely platonic. She was in her first year while he had one step in the job market already, a big, tall bloke. Why would he even look at her? Until in one stupid prank he caused her to fall and twist her ankle, badly, in the middle of the campus in pouring rain. Her first memory is of mud and desire.

"It was something I enjoyed doing a lot."

"Giving head?"

"Yes. Couldn't get enough when I was younger."

Something shifted inside Adam. His muscles got tense, and the idea of his mother sucking cock turns into reality in his head. He could not stop the growth between his legs, but prayed it remained hidden.

"What's important is living your life. I wish one day I know what's it like to get head."

"One day at a time, son. I'm sure you'll get plenty of mouths on that - oh god, what am I saying? You're my son," she said, pouring another glass, and enjoying the freedom it was providing her with. After that first moment with James, Adam's father, where both of them were drenched to the bone, he came by to check on her. It was just a twisted ankle, but for Marge to have the attention was something else. Something new to her. She always thought he rejected her moves based on the fact he was a fully grown man and herself a horny teenager until the night she drank too much.

"Relax mom, I'm enjoying you being this open. It's so cool."

And Marge noticed something that wasn't there before. Something contained, but huge. "Adam, I think it's best for us to go to sleep. It's a big day tomorrow."

"I'm enjoying talking to you. Wish you could tell me a few more things on how you helped dad you know, not shooting his load so soon."

Marge kept her body on his, but now she could feel it. A pressure against her thigh.

"I think you are liking this a little too much, and I... I can't ignore the fact you are excited about this right now. I'm sorry, didn't want to say anything, but I love you, as a mother loves his son, and this is not appropriate."

And with this, she broke the embrace, observing the impressive swelling between her son's legs.

He looked down, and then back at her. "It happens all the time. It's not because of you, but more the conversation. I didn't -"

"Adam, it's ok. I just don't think I should encourage that."

That night, Adam came four times. In all four, he tried the squeeze method, but there was nothing he could do. After thirty seconds, his load was coming. In all scenarios he created, his mother was a presence somehow, but he ignored that.

After the fourth orgasm, he went to piss, and forgot to close his bedroom door on the return, or to put on any shorts. He fell asleep thinking about Jenny's sweet cunt but somehow the lines became blurred and there was a forbidden desire, and he pictured his mother as he held her back against his chest, the soaking wet panties he knew she had when they were hugging each other. It was not only him being horny about the ideas they were sharing - he could be a virgin, but Adam had been with women romantically, and he could tell some signs he'd seen in his now ex-girlfriend were there, right in his mother's cheeks.

Naked from the waist down, that's how his mother found him in the morning when she woke up. When she saw the open door, she thought of him awake, and went to say hello and check on him. What she found was much different.

She had her sleeping adult son, naked from the waist down, a body of an adonis, and a cock so hard it made her shiver. If she closed her legs hard enough, she could come just from seeing it.

Large. Obnoxiously large. Drooling precum continuously, even when he was sleeping. There was a sudden rush of fear all over her skin, and she tried to take one step back, but she slipped in one of his trainers and lost balance, falling face down onto the bed.

She managed not to fall on top of Adam and closed her eyes as the mattress trembled with her body. Silence around her. She opened her eyes. Adam was still asleep, not woken up by her ungracious fall. There was a powerful scent that remind Marge of masculinity, of sports and hunt, of all things illegal to do with her son. That reminded her of the night she drank too much. It was a party somewhere, with someone she couldn't remember anymore, some friends would be there but they weren't, some guys hitting on her, drink this, drink that, challenged to carry on, and her innocent mouth drank the spirits, and the spirits became her. Her mind was a blank sheet, but she woke up on a strange bed in a strange room.

Marge looked at her phone that morning, and it was flat. Dizzy. So fucking dizzy that she crawled her way to the toilet, pissing with her eyes closed, blurriness for vision, headache for consciousness. There was a living room, and someone gigantic sleeping on a couch, completely overstretching it, legs handing on one side, head on the other. A male figure, hairy, a scent she faintly recognized. And, at the center of him, standing tall from the fly of his boxer shorts, a cock stood in front of her eyes, throbbing.

Just like Adam's right now.

The beauty of it. The magnitude of it.

The mother slowly backed off the bed, her cunt dripping, her face flushed, red, burning, her breasts wanting to feel his strong hands squeezing them, and as she reaches the doorway she looks back again, fingers crawling inside her nightgown, and bit her lip.

"How wrong, how fucking wrong, Marge," she told herself, and took all her courage to move again, slumping down her bedroom door, her ass on the carpet, legs far apart, and a mouth open and moaning.

"All these years, and the devil right at my doorstep. This is so absolutely wrong," she told herself, as her scream came muted for too long, her body arching, her legs shivering, head hitting against the dark wood door. "Yes, oh fuck, yes!" she let the air escape her lungs, forgetting where she was, who she was, and why god would look down on her, pointing a finger, and sending her directly to hell, no candor to let her ask for forgiveness.

"No forgiveness for such perversion."

She could see her ex-husband, turned real from smoke and dust, as her orgasm settled. The husband that accused her of being a terrible woman. How right would he be?

God, such a disgrace.