Call Me Charlotte

Charlotte fumbled to get her key in the lock. That final glass of wine had gone to her head. She switched on the lights and danced drunkenly into her hallway. She was listening to Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event. She had turned forty a few days ago, and her son had bought her an iPod. She loved it. She sang as she spun in circles.

"So you can smell her perfume, you can see her lying naked in your arms."

Her long black hair swung round as she danced. She caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror. She still looked pretty good, especially in her short black dress and high heels. She had been out tonight celebrating her recent birthday with friends from work. She dropped her handbag and danced through to the living room. She felt much younger than forty, so she sang.

"And you're too drunk to notice everyone is staring at you. You don't care what you look like. The world is falling around you."

Charlotte stumbled upstairs. She shrugged out of her dress and staggered into her bedroom. There was nobody else home. Her son was staying at his girlfriend's. She wondered whether there was any ulterior motive in him clearing out for the night. Daniel's father had cheated on her years ago, and was now apparently in South America. She had been single for a long time. Daniel knew she was interested in a guy from the IT department. Perhaps her son was allowing her the privacy to bring a man home, if she wanted to.

She sat on her bed and pulled her stockings off. Her white silk pyjamas were folded neatly over the headboard. It took a while for her to guide the right limbs into the right holes, but she dressed for bed. Her pyjama top felt smooth against her body as she fumbled with the buttons. The irritating thing was that the guy from the IT department didn't even show up. What the hell! He was married anyway, and Charlotte felt guilty even contemplating sleeping with him.

The girls she worked with had bought her a present too. Something naughty and inappropriate. She took it out of the box and slipped it into her pyjama pocket. She might need it later.

The shuffle function on her iPod threw up a sad song. Aimee Mann sang One Is The Loneliest Number. It threatened to ruin her mood. She stabbed the button and got Ooh La La by Goldfrapp. That was better. She wasn't ready for bed, anyway. She wanted another drink. She danced her way back down the stairs. She shook her ass as she moved.

"Switch me on! Turn me up! I need la, la, la, la, la, la! I need ooh, la, la, la, la!"

Charlotte poured herself a drink. She took the bottle.

She collapsed onto the sofa. A splash of vodka leapt out of the glass and onto her pyjamas. She giggled.

"Pretty baby! You look so heavenly!" She sang to Blondie.

Her son was having his own relationship problems. He was nineteen, and was going with a girl called Emma. She was a gorgeous girl with long legs and flowing red hair, and she was whip smart. If Charlotte was interested in women, she might have fought off her son to get to Emma first. Unfortunately, Emma was also the sort of girl who felt she had to wait until she was married before having sex. Daniel was desperately trying to change her outlook. Tonight he had taken flowers and a bottle of wine round. Perhaps he had persuaded her. Perhaps right now he was enjoying a blow-job.

Charlotte felt a little excited by that thought. She tried to quench it with a slug of the vodka. It had the opposite effect, as her inhibitions drained away.

She imagined her son getting a blow-job whilst Emma's parents slept. She heard him grunting as he came. Or, if he was really lucky, perhaps he was fucking the agile redhead on the kitchen worktops. She imagined them coupling in the pool of light from an open fridge. She closed her eyes.

She listened to Sweet Dreams by Tori Amos and slid her mind into that dark fantasy where she was the slinky redhead.

She imagined Daniel was slathering her breasts with banana ice-cream. It melted as it met her hot body and dribbled down her, onto his tongue. Oh... his lips were soft and urgent.

She called her son's name over and over. "Oh Daniel! Oh Daniel! Oh Daniel!"

Daniel stood at the bottom of the stairs, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He had heard someone moaning his name. It sounded like his dreams of Emma, but he knew it could only be his mother. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Charlotte's hands crept down her body.

Daniel crept further into the living room.

Charlotte was thrilled by her drunken fantasy. She knew it was wrong, but she didn't care. Picturing Daniel and Emma fucking had unscrewed something in her brain. It was simple. She was a woman, he was a man. Her son was strong and masculine, and she wanted him.

She writhed on the leather two-seater, hips thrusting. She was gift-wrapped, wearing damp white silken pyjamas. They clung to her feverish body, so drenched with sweat that her carnal figure was perceptible. Daniel stared at her long legs, now thrown open. He stared at her smooth stomach, slinky and squirming against the silk. He stared at her juicy wild breasts, rollicking under her wet top. He stared at her dark nipples striking beneath a pyjama top so soaked in perspiration it was as transparent and lingering as cling-film.

She unbuttoned her top and struggled out of it. She looked like one of the women on the Playboy channel. Daniel was nineteen and could appreciate a stunning woman - even if she had given birth to him. Clammy strands of dark hair fell across her face, her pouting lips. Her eyes were half-closed, and her long lashes flickered. The iPod he had given her was clipped to the tight waist of her pyjama bottoms and Daniel realised she was listening to music. There was no way she could hear him in the room. She ran her long fingers over her naked breasts and squeezed them, gasping urgently.

Daniel swallowed hard. He shouldn't be here. He was home tonight because he had argued with Emma and she had told him to go. He had been fast asleep in his room, until he heard his mother's voice. But he shouldn't be here, standing in the living room watching her. He should steal away back upstairs to bed.

His stiff penis was hard against the cotton of his boxer shorts. It was an exquisitely tight bulge.

I can't take my eyes off her. She's wet, she's wriggling. How can I resist? She's a goddess. But she's my mother. Shit!

He started to walk upstairs but she sang breathlessly to Madonna. "I don't want to be your mother. I don't want to be your sister either. I just want to be your lover. Kiss me."

He liberated his thick throbbing dick.

Oh, Mom.... I wish you could do this for me. His thoughts seemed so loud.

He moved his penis back and forth. It felt strong in his hand, He felt like he could do anything he wanted with it. He wanked while he watched her.

He imagined her soft lips on the tip of his penis, her tongue quick and darting. Her long raven hair tickling his balls.

She moistened her fingers with her tongue and explored her nipples. Her fingers orbited the dusky circles of her areolas. Her touch was intense. Her nipples grew like button mushrooms. She tilted her head back and stroked them with her thumbs. "Daniel.... That feels sooo good...." Her voice was throaty and vital.

Daniel's hand raced up and down the curved shaft of his penis. His purple head swelled and surged. He imagined stimulating her pussy with it. Her bucking and writhing beneath him.

Charlotte stuck a long finger in her belly-button and shivered. It was one of her most secret erogenous zones. She played with it, pressing her finger-tip against the sensitive spot, her other hand busy provoking a wave of thrills by skilful attention to her sighing breasts. She moaned and pressed her shoulders deep into the leather. She unwittingly showed Daniel how she wanted her world to be rocked.

Daniel staggered forward, needing to see this ravishing woman. Lips open. Her normally alabaster face hot and flushed. Her long kissable neck, her strong shoulders, dripping with perspiration.

She twisted her long legs together, sliding her ass along the leather couch. Her thighs rubbed, slippery with the juices now flowing from inside her, her knees trembling against each other. She swept a hand down, delving beneath the waist of her pyjamas. She pretended to resist, holding her legs tight closed, but pushed insistently, working one finger in, then another. She grunted. "Fuck me...." And her legs flew apart to accommodate both hands. One bare foot pressed against the carpet. The other leg hooked over the back of the sofa.

She sat up suddenly.

Daniel was standing behind her. He was inches from her. If he leaned forward even slightly, his cock would touch her. His face turned crimson. He was about to get caught masturbating over his mother. But then he had caught her masturbating over him. His life, which he was now certain wasn't going to last much longer, flashed before his eyes.

Charlotte poured herself a full glass of vodka and knocked it back. That emptied the bottle. "God, this is wonderful," she mumbled. "It's so forbidden."

She lay back down on the sofa. Her eyes were closed again. She hadn't seen him. She still had the empty vodka bottle in one hand. She lowered the bottle between her legs. Slowly, she worked the smooth glass neck of the bottle in and out of her pussy.

Daniel nearly collapsed when he saw that. Oh my god!

The shock of pleasure was potent, intense, overwhelming. But a profound fear of her opening her eyes and seeing him strangled his lust. He didn't ejaculate. He was too terrified. His mother was a sexy vision, naked from the waist up, breasts bouncing, in the throes of passion. Pyjama bottoms clinging to her every curve from the waist down. Her hands ravaging her clitoris, bopping under her pyjamas. Her alluring features wild and ecstatic. "Oh god.... oh god.... oh god...."

Daniel couldn't move. His mother was oblivious, lost in feeling. Tenderly stoking herself to a climax. She took one hand away and breathed, slowly, waiting. Then she reached into a hip pocket of her pyjamas and slipped out a white vibrator. It buzzed as she took it into her body. "Uhhuunnnn uhhhh!"

He wrenched at his cock, working it, eager to come at the same time as her. He lurched closer, his dick beating against the sofa. Trembling at the erotic shamelessness of this electric woman. Sexually gratifying her body with sordid dreams....

Charlotte worked the vibrator. It was a birthday gift from the girls at work. They knew how desperate she was for a man, so they had bought her the next best thing and even fitted it with batteries. She still couldn't believe what she was doing. But this was a fantasy. A harmless fantasy. Nothing more. She pictured Daniel fucking her.

Her own son, hard and muscular, bending her over the armrest of this leather sofa, her legs apart, her peachy buttocks receiving an athletic violation. His hands grasping her breasts, anchoring him deep inside her. His lips kissing the hot nape of her neck.

She spasmed, arcing her back, her legs twitching, her body shuddering. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck meeeee!" Daniel came suddenly. His mother orgasmed beneath him. His cock pulsed in his hands and shot a huge glot of semen through the air. It splattered her face and drenched her tits.

(Oh fuck!)

Charlotte fondled herself, still fiddling with her nipples, still enraptured. She rubbed the sticky man-juice all over her breasts, loving it. She pushed it down between her legs, adding it to the lubricating liquids deep in the cleft of her vagina. She moaned and bit her lower lip. Then she came to her senses. She was fucking herself. She hadn't been with a man. So where did that come from?

She sat up, soft cries subsiding, still panting hard. Charlotte searched the room. It was empty. She licked the semen from her lips, knowing now that her son was unexpectedly home and had found her. Knowing that he had cum across her face and body. She felt a strange emotional turmoil of shame and anger, exhaustion and longing. She didn't bother to put her pyjama top back on. She went to the drinks cabinet, unsteady on her long legs, and opened a bottle of Bailey's.

She threw her iPod down on the floor. She wondered if Daniel would come back downstairs. She was drunk enough already, but if there was ever an excuse to get so smashed she couldn't remember anything at all then the last few minutes gave her that excuse.

Her stomach was churning, her mouth was dry. Her son's semen clung to her and she felt drunk on it. She didn't want to shower. She didn't want to dress. She wanted to make him cum again.

In the darkness of his room, Daniel was masturbating. The bed-sheets were bunched around his legs. His powerful chest rippled with the effort. He pretended his mother was draping her hungry forty year old body round him.

He didn't hear his door open.

Charlotte stood in the darkness, her fingers tucked inside her. She bit her lip to keep from whispering his name. She strummed her clitoris soundlessly, absorbing every lurid sensation, rubbing her ass against the door frame. The wood there became slick and slippery as she spied on her son.

She watched him shuffling his glorious purple cock, needing both hands to stir himself. She admired his arms bulging as he worked, knew that they could lift her against this doorway. She imagined her ankles locked behind, so her legs could pull him in deeper.

She listened to him panting degenerate things about her.

"Oh... Charlotte... suck harder... you horny angel... Charlotte... bend over, you beautiful sexy piece of ass...."

It inflamed her. Her heart throbbed in her chest while he came. He spurted, and kicked and twitched. His bedclothes fell to the floor. He was exposed in his clumsy passion.

Charlotte convulsed as her orgasm wrenched through her. It was the second time tonight she had been shaken by the thought of her son coming in her body. Her arm flung outwards and her palm hit a light switch. There she stood, silhouetted in the doorway. She saw the horror on Daniel's face, then the hot sexual longing. She knew how her semi-naked outline must look to any man. Her stunning contours, hard and ready for him. She arced her back against the door frame and pushed her breasts out.

He got up off the bed and stood before her, close enough for them to touch. The head of his penis nuzzled stickily against her taut belly. They were both trembling. He had no idea what to do next. Charlotte pounced fearlessly. She pushed her dark hair behind her ear and raised one angular eyebrow. She suddenly looked different, a girl he might meet in a club, and Daniel knew she was seducing him.

"You"re naked, son" she whispered breathlessly. "Would you like to slip into something more comfortable - like me?"

She was a beautiful Elf-queen, dripping with sexy mischief. A terrible Vulcan bitch in heat. Anything but his own mother asking him to fuck her brains out. He stared. He didn't know what to say.

She shook her breasts at him.

That was it. He grabbed her and she grabbed him. There was no talking; just the fluttering cries and encouraging grunts between soft kisses. It seemed like hours they were kissing, lost in a warm smooth sliding clinch. Their wordless tongues wrestled. Neither of them closed their eyes. She had beautiful brown eyes, deep and brimming with tears of passion. She raised one of her legs and draped it around him. He held her long lovely thigh up and moved inwards, always inwards. It was the first time she opened her legs to him, allowing him within thrusting distance of her slick warm vagina. She lifted her head and panted at the top of the door frame as he kissed his way down her neck. She had never felt this raunchy. Or this desired. His hands stole down her curved back and inside her pyjama bottoms, fondling her buttocks. She presented her breasts to his lips, and pushed his head down. He took one tip into his mouth, drawing it in, lathering it with his drool, circling and pushing with his tongue, driving Charlotte to frenzy. He suckled her. She began to shuffle his cock up and down against her leg. He took her tit out from between his lips and stared into her brown eyes.

"I'm on the pill, so we don't have to worry. We can do whatever we like."

"Really?" Daniel wanted her. He needed her.

"Unwrap me," she begged. "Please."

He pulled her from her pyjama bottoms, lifting her as her legs curled around him. He laid his mother down on the bed and she squealed as he pushed his cock into her belly-button.

"Daniel! I love that!"

She came right then, wriggling beneath him. He let the spasms of lust ravish her, then pushed between her legs. His cock slid into her easily. Her nails dug into his back as she lifted her hips, no longer caring who he was. She stroked his shining athletic body. Her legs were wide, her toes gripping the mattress.

"Oh mother!"

"Call me Charlotte, you mother-fucker!"

It was a long slippery night. Sometimes he was on her. Sometimes she sat astride him, her long dark hair clammy on her breasts, her breasts bouncing as she pushed herself down onto his thick penis.

Eventually, they succumbed to sleep. They lay together inside their tight embrace. Her hair was on his chest. Her legs were wrapped around him. Each slight movement of their bodies caused beautiful ecstasy. Because of this, they half-woke many times, only to make love again. Her legs wound around him. His lips kissed her firm heaving breasts. His hand caressed her bottom. He plunged inside her body. They fucked with total abandon, like they were in a dream. Neither of them had ever felt pleasure like it.

Slowly, inevitably, the morning came. Charlotte realised she was lying in her son's bed. Her head throbbed. She had the hangover from hell. Her legs were wobbly and weak. Daniel lay beneath her. He was naked, and she was naked. She was draped across him. Daniel woke to find his hand on his mother's ass. His cock was upright like it always was in the morning. He couldn't roll away from her. He could feel her nipples against his chest. He looked down. They were hard. Then they stared at each other, each was desperate for words, each was wondering what to say...