A Weekend to Remember

Despite his hangover, Clay eyed his mother's lush figure. At 48, parts of her had lost the battle with gravity. Her breasts, easily an E cup, hung pendulously as she leaned forward on the toilet, holding her head in her hands. Her breasts partially hid her pronounced mommy pooch. Her large thighs framed a neatly trimmed bush.

Above the thick yellow stream gushing from her urethra was a large hood. A blurred image of him between those thighs, that hairy bush scratching his face, his tongue flicking at her pink man in the boat, guttural moans...hands were clawing at his head!

I ate my mother out!

"Stop watching me piss and get out of here!"

Anne was experiencing her own flashbacks. An ache at the corners of her mouth. A giant cock gagging her as she gulped down, seeming quarts of hot steaming cum. Someone's head between her legs. She shivered as she recalled her clit being licked and teased until she exploded. She and her husband had not 69ed in decades!

She recalled a body on hers, sweating. Grunts as he pumped hard into her. The arthritic pain in her thighs as she wrapped them around a thrusting back. The initial painful full feeling of the largest cock she ever had pounding her pussy. Her screaming! And cumming! Repeatedly!

Oh my fucking God! I 69ed with my son; he licked me to an orgasm and came in my mouth. Then we fucked! He came in me!

Anne patted herself dry, flushed the toilet, and returned to Clay's room. Her badly wrinkled sundress and bra lay beside the bed on the floor.

Where are my panties?

She remembered the Uber driver warning them to stop. Dear god! We made out in front of a stranger!

"Jesus Christ, Clay! What have we done?"

"Sorry, momma! Sorry! I'll go make some coffee."

Chapter 05

The golden disc of the sun was above the horizon but had not yet fully risen. Its warming rays streamed through the chintz-covered windows, glinting off the modern silver and black appliances.

It illuminated the free-standing tiled kitchen island where Anne and Clay sat opposite. Each cradled a warm coffee cup and stared into the steaming black liquid in their hands.

"Look, momma, I'm sorry! I...uh...I did the unthinkable!"

Anne looked up at the tortured face of her son. She had seen that look before. When he was a child, he was caught doing something he had no business doing. Then, like now, he was close to crying.

"Clay, WE did the unthinkable! I'm not sure if apologies are necessary. We're adults! Let's try to get past this!"

"Momma, we fu...! Had sex! How do we put this behind us?"

She shifted on the stool and flinched at the distinct soreness between her legs. It was not an unpleasant feeling.

Sober, she would never have had sex with her son. The societal taboos against incest were strong. However, having done it, a bolt of lightning didn't strike them dead. And the incest police, if there was such a thing, wasn't kicking down her door, ready to pillory them for committing an unnatural act.

From what she could recall, it was damn good sex!

"We have to, son!"

"So, what do we do now?"

"We put this behind us. We move on!"

Memories flooded back as mother and son talked, reconstructing the previous day. Her sister Kathy and her husband Al insisted they were too drunk to drive. So they called an Uber minivan.

They were dead drunk! Anne drank too much as a childish reaction to her absent and inattentive husband. She seemed to recall one of the attendees giving her a THC gummie.

She recalled her brother-in-law, Al, pinning her against a wall in the bathroom. She giggled like a maniac when he knelt, pushed up her dress, and kissed her pussy through her panties. Somehow she escaped him, but she couldn't remember how.

They cuddled in the back of the minivan, with Clay lying on Anne's bosom, snoring. She stroked his head, reflecting on the times he had slept like this was he was a child.

Anne remembered reluctantly weaning him when he was four years old. She was a young mother then and loath to relinquish the intimacy of nourishing him with her breast milk just as she had nourished him in the womb.

Clay nuzzled his mother's cleavage; her lavender scent blended with the aroma of her perspiration to create an arousing miasma of scented pheromones. He inhaled deeply, pressing his mouth into the cleavage exposed by the deep vee neck of her sleeveless sundress. His hand on her warm moist thigh flexed spasmodically. Lost memories of their closeness over the years flooded back.

Anne disapproved of his choice of a wife, sensing as only a mother can that this was not a good match. Her repeated queries about when she could expect grandchildren grew more insistent. It was as though she knew the marriage would end, and she wanted grandchildren before it did.

After his marriage failed, she cradled his head against her bosom as he sobbed about his failed marriage. Anne was a good mother. She was there for him always, despite her husband's insistence that she was babying him.

In the back of the Uber, Clay affectionately stroked her thigh in his stupor, pushing her dress up her thighs. His mother offered weak resistance, caressing his hand rather than pushing it away.

With minimal resistance from his inebriated mother, he undid the top buttons on her dress. His fingers were like unresponsive sausages. Finally, after much struggling, he pulled her bra up, exposing one luscious teat. He took it in his mouth, dozing while he nursed.

Anne started awake. Bleary-eyed, she looked around the slowing spinning interior of the Uber. Finally, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. What had woken her up?

She cradled her son's head to her bosom, enjoying his suckling and his warm hand on her bare thigh. She recalled happier times when her marriage was her life.

Clay made those endearing sucking sounds many years ago when she breastfed him. She stroked his close, cropped hair as he nursed. The hand caressing her thigh slid up, repeatedly bumping against her silk panties. Finally, she dozed back off, holding Clay's head lovingly to her bosom while he suckled.

Anne sighed in her sleep. She was in a beautiful nether world where Clay was still a baby, she was secure in her marriage, and she was breastfeeding him. She cradled his head against her breast.

Such a hungry baby!

The Uber rounded a curve, causing the mother and son to slide to one side. Anne lay on her side with Clay partially on top of her. The hem of her dress rode up, exposing her panties. Clay's arm cradled her body; the hand trapped between her thighs cupped her warm wetness. His fingers flexed, pressing against her vaginal crease.

Anne groaned in disappointment in her stupor when his mouth slipped from her breast. His hand cupping her pussy was incongruous. He never did that when he was a baby. Her hips pumped lazily against his index finger, stroking her vulva through her panties.

"Okay, you guys! We're here!"

The driver shook his head as he looked over the seat. The young guy was sucking on the old fat broad's tit while he finger fucked her. He looked between her dimpled thighs at the thicket matted to her thighs. Again, he shook his head. Definitely, not his type!

Anne and Clay were disoriented as they struggled to sit up. Clay's finger slipped from his mother's honey hole.

He flopped back against the car seat with his eyes partially closed. His legs were spread with a tent in his khakis short from his rigid tool. His arms lay at his side with his palms up.

"What...?" He tried to raise his head and gave up, falling back against the car seat

Anne sat up, dimly aware that one of her breasts was out, with the nipple deliciously aching. She glanced down, following the eyes of the Uber driver. The front of her dress was around her waist, and her panties were pushed to the side. And she was wet! Summoning her drunken dignity, she tried to stare the driver down.

"You're home, guys! You can finish what you started inside!"

He smirked as Clay stumbled out of the minivan with one hand resting against the van, balancing himself as he walked to the other side. The driver laughed aloud when Anne pushed her door open, knocking Clay to the ground.

The world swam dizzyingly around Anne. She stared at Clay lying on the wet grass, legs akimbo, flat on his back.

"You're going to ruin your clothes, Honey. Get up!"

Clay rolled on his side on the dew-moistened grass. He pushed himself to a sitting position, dimly aware of the wet ground soaking his shorts and shirt.

"I'm getting up, momma! I'm getting up!"

There was a distant familiarity to their conversation. How many times had he said that over the years?

He recalled her standing at the foot of his bed in one of her many sheer nightgowns, her hands on her broad hips. She was backlit by the hall light, displaying the outline of her voluptuous body. He remembered his embarrassment as he tried to conceal his morning wood. But she was always there to wake him up so he wouldn't be late. She was a good mother!

The Uber driver's eyebrows climbed into his receding hairline. MOMMA? The couple was more interesting than he thought.

Anne used the van door for support as she bent from the waist, grasped Clay's hand, and attempted to pull him to his feet. Unfortunately, she overbalanced and face-planted on Clay with her face between his legs and her dress on her back.

The driver roared at this scene from a Keystone Kops silent movie.

Nice ass, he thought! Larger than I like. But nice work if you could get it!

He wrapped his arms around Anne's waist, grunting as he pulled her to her feet. He squeezed her bare tit as he did. Then, he pointed her toward the front door and whacked her jiggly ass.

Anne whooped, grabbed her butt with both hands and stumbled toward the door. She stopped and turned toward the driver.

"Naughty, Naughty," she slurred as she stood weaving in the driveway.

The driver repeated the action with Clay. As he pulled off, he saw them in his rearview mirror. They embraced with Clay's hands, cupping his mother's ass and her hand pinned between them.

Chapter 06

Anne and Clay stood weaving in the tiled foyer of her home. Clay pulled at his wet pants, clinging uncomfortably to his thighs and behind.

Anne struggled, trying to stuff her big teat back into her bra. Finally, she gave up, letting it hang over her wrinkled yellow print sundress, her nipples turgid.

"Clay! You're messing up my clean floor. Get out of those wet clothes!"

"Okay, Momma!"

Clay made a clumsy attempt to unbuckle his pants. He failed miserably, his coordination impaired by his drunkenness. Finally, he hooked his thumbs in the waist of his khakis and pushed them down, his underwear going with them. He looked past his semi-rigid cock to his pants and briefs around his ankles. He tried to kick them off and stumbled back, the wall saving him from a nasty fall.

Anne blearily eyed her son, leaning against the wall. He was sweating profusely, and his feet were tangled in his clothes around his ankles. She watched him affectionately, recalling helping him dress and undress as a child. Then, with her arms extended like a tightrope walker, she tottered over to her son. Her large exposed jug jiggled as she walked. Finally, she stopped in front of him.

"Here, let me help you, baby!"

Anne squatted before Clay, and his cock slapped her in the face. She took it, eyed it, and pushed it to the side. It swung back, hitting her in the face again. Irritated, she grasped it firmly with one hand and held it to one side. With the other hand, she slipped Clay's clothes from his ankle.

Anne was sweating profusely, exhausted by her efforts. She remained on her knees, resting her head against Clay's crotch, gulping air. Her hand idly stroked his cock as she knelt before him, catching her breath.

"OUCH! Mom! You're squeezing too tight!"

One hand pressed against her head, pushing her away.

Ever the good mother, Anne looked up at the pained expression on her baby's face.

"I'm sorry, sweetie!"

As she did countless times when he was a child, she kissed the owie. This time that sore spot was her son's cock. His howl of pain turned to a moan of satisfaction.

"Does that feel better, baby?"

She planted soft kisses up and down his length, gently stroking his cock as she did.

Clay's legs were like spaghetti. The alcohol, marijuana, his exertions, and his mother stroking and kissing his tool were too much. He slid down the wall, ending up sitting on the floor.

"Yes, momma! Much better!"

Anne leaned up his body and kissed him on the lips.

"I always kissed the places where you hurt yourself. You said my kisses made them feel better!"

Anne leaned down and kissed the head of her son's cock. Her tongue snaked out, probing his slit.

Clay hissed. His mother's mouth on his cock felt incredible. He grabbed the tit hanging out of her dress.

"OUCH! Too hard!"

Anne dropped Clay's cock and sat back on her heels, massaging her breast.

"My turn to kiss your owie," Clay slurred.

The foyer spun as he pushed up to his knees. The acrid taste of bile made him swallow hard several times. Then, an alarm went off in a distant corner of his alcohol-besotted brain.

He stopped, his head cocked to the side, holding his mother's breast in his hands. The heft surprised him. He looked from her engorged nipple to her face.

Anne's eyes were closed, her mouth was open, and her lips were moist. Drool bubbled at the corners of her mouth.

Clay shook his head, trying to clear it but making the room spin more. Finally, he closed his eyes, leaned forward, took his mother's nipple in his mouth, and suckled.

"Oh my God," Anne groaned.

The sensations of her son sucking her nipple coursed through her body like an electric shock, causing her to stiffen. She grasped his head, intending to push him away.

Instead, she fell back, taking him with her. The weight of his body pressed against her. His rigid cock pushed against her drenched panties. It felt so good and so wrong.

"Clay! Clay baby! Stop! We need to stop!"

The thrusting of her hips belied her words. Her son's tool sawed against her panties, pushing them into her slit.

Drunken lust seized Clay. He barely heard his mother's pleas as he pressed up, nursing her breast and pushing between her spreading legs. He and his mother were surprised when the head of his dick slipped by her panties and into her pussy.

"Oh my God," they simultaneously moaned.

Anne thrust reflexively and gasped as she buried her son's cock balls deep in her pussy.

They lay joined, sweating profusely, drunk, and confused. Anne's pussy dripped wet and farted as her son's monster cock pushed the air out, filling her as never before. Her cunt pulsed rhythmically around her son's cock.

Anne's befuddled mind realized the impropriety of what was happening and, at the same time, rejoiced in the intimacy. It seemed right to share herself with the person she loved more than any other.

Clay's cock felt incredible inside her. It was as though it belonged there. Finally, he was back where he emerged, squalling into the world thirty years before. Back then, he stretched her as he pushed into the world.

Now he stretched her as he reentered her vagina. There was no pain this time, no nurses telling her to push. Instead, his cock was where it belonged, inside her sending incredible sensations throughout Anne's body.

Anne rotated her hips, relishing the feel of her son's cock in her. Clay emulated her, circling his hips as they fucked slowly, lazily, enjoying the act and the closeness.

They lost track of time, and the world narrowed to the two engaged in the ultimate act of mother/son love. They whispered loving words as they fucked on the foyer floor.

"Mommy loves you, baby! Mommy loves you!"

"I love you too, Mommy!"

His ass clenched and unclenched as he drove deep into her. His mother was much tighter than his cousin, her cunt tightening around his cock, feeling like a glove. It was as though she was giving him a handjob.

"Is it good for you, darling?"

"Mommy, I have wanted to do this forever!"

"Mommy has wanted it too, sweetie...I've wanted to feel you in me. To finally experience this definitive act of our love!"

Anne realized the truth of an old Latin phrase, in vino veritas. There WAS truth in what she was saying, things she would never say sober. She loved sex with her son and had secretly wanted it for years. All of those years parading around the house partially clothed were for him, though she would have denied it then.

The squelching sound of hard cock in wet pussy filled the foyer. They were lost in a world of maternal love.

"Oh Fuck! Fuck! I'm cumming!" Anne's legs flew into the air and wrapped around Clay's back. "Dear God," she screamed, "Dear God!"

Clay kept thrusting into his mother's hot wet pussy as her orgasm wracked her body. Whether from the alcohol/THC combo or that he fucked his cousin earlier, he was nowhere close to cumming. He only stopped stroking when he realized Anne had passed out under him.

Anne was in a Jesus on the cross pose with her legs akimbo and her son's seed oozing from her pussy and running between her butt cheeks. In her stupor, her hand slipped between her legs and massaged his cum into her cunt.

Clay rolled off her onto his back, his lungs on fire. His shirt, his only garment, clung wetly to his body. He rose on one elbow and looked over at his mother. She was slack-jawed, drool running from the corners of her mouth. Her ample chest heaved as she gulped air. Their comingled juices oozed from her gaping pussy.

"Mom! Mom! We have to get up!"

"I can't breath," she gasped," clawing at the buttons on her dress.

Anne was overheating and trying to get some air. She ripped the buttons loose, and her dress dropped to her side. Her chest heaved as she gulped air. The alcohol, exertion, and the after-effects of a soul-shaking orgasm left her limp and overheated.

Clay pushed his mother's wet wrinkled dress from her shoulders, unclasped her bra, and pulled it off. Then, breathing heavily, he rocked back on his heels.

"Is that better, mommy?"

He looked down at the most beautiful woman in the world. Gently, lovingly he leaned down and kissed each breast in turn. He continued down, kissing her belly and tonguing her navel. The aroma of her flooded nether regions invaded his nostrils, causing his head to spin even more.

"Oh, baby! Baby! Mommy loves you!"

Anne clasped her son's head, pulling it tight to her hole.

He kissed her soaking wet bush, his tongue pushing through and penetrating her puckered, open vaginal lips. He smacked his lips as their juices coated his tongue, relishing the taste.

A shock rocketed through Anne's body. She struggled, trying to come to full sensibility. The alcohol was like a lead weight making it an effort to lift her body. Only her hips seemed free to move. They gyrated at the unfamiliar sensation of someone kissing her vagina. She tried to speak, emitting only an inarticulate growl.

The tongue probing her honey hole was unfamiliar, a little disgusting, and strangely erotic. She was flat on her back in the tiled foyer. A diffuse light overhead through a frosted bowl illuminated Clay's rutting head. Anne grasped her son's sweating head with both hands.

"Oh, my God! Oh my God! That feels incredible, baby!"

Clay raised, his face gleaming with Anne's secretions. He stared at his mother over her belly pooch. Her face, slightly raised, was framed by her big jugs.

"Does that feel good, mommy?"

"Oh yes, darling! Yes! Turn around! I want to taste you!"

Clay swung around, offering his mother his dick to suck. Anne hungrily inhaled it. It was amazing to feel his tool in her mouth while he orally made love to her pussy.