Gwendolyn: A Tale of Motherly Lust

I can't help but smile and to demonstrate the palpable reality of it for him, I shift my pelvis, slowly rocking it, my pussy; pleasure-clenching his hard and youthful cock in answer, "Oh, M-Mom!" he proclaims, throbbing inside of me.

Finger tips to his chin, I draw my son's attention to my face. Lustfully, I smile, "mm...it's okay, honey, you feel so good...so good, Jacob—mm, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mom...uh."

Mother or not, I am female, and the boy's instincts seem to take hold. My son heaves against me, driving his cock deep, causing me to whimper a cry of sex-pleasure, as I take him in. "Uhh!"

Biting my lower lip, I further part my thighs...wide and high, eagerly accommodating the boy's lusty chore ahead. Within our bodily union, Jacob bears his full weight upon me, clutching me in his strong arms, hard-thrusting between my bouncing legs—he lurches—holding, heaving, shoving his cock further, deeper into my slick vagina with every repeated motion. "Auh...uhh...uhh!" I moan, enraptured in sheer bliss with every fleshy undulation.

The boy's sex is fast, good—fun, as I'm getting fucked, I can't help but smile. Yet even in the midst of our lusty passion, something more happens within my bedroom, something not happening in quite a long time—jostled by our energetic lovemaking, the bed mattress begins to squeak.

"Uhh...I-I'm feeling it, Mom, I'm gett'n close."

"J—Jacob, ahh...yeh, fuck me, honey!"

In the midst of our sex-motions, I feel the blanket slip; it's barely covering the boy's flexing ass. Gripping Jacob's taut butt in my hands, I tug, wanting more, more—craving it. Though I can feel his firm muscles working urgently in my grip, my cock-craving is such the boy just can't fuck me hard enough. Still, I feel the gnawing pleasure, the growing warmth of it—my orgasm is near.

"Uhh...god...mmph!"

My moans ushering him, Jacob's bare chest presses firm against my jiggling tits, I can feel his strong thrusts falter as he bucks against me, his position atop me gradually morphing into a back-bowing hunch against my cock-hungry body. The boy buries his face against my shoulder, his voice sounds in my ear with a pleasured gasp, "uhh, I'm c-coming, Mom...I'm coming—uhh!"

Jacob tenses against me, his entire body pressing hard as I clench his firm ass in my hands. "Uhh!" He groans like a lusting animal, his body squirming, his cock; sunk to the hilt in my loins, my son sputters for breath against my bare shoulder. "Auhh!" groaning aloud, just as his father before him, the boy gasps, grips me and comes.

Within a mere moment of Jacob's orgasm, mine besets me too, taking hold, consuming my body in an orgasmic, sex-tickle, and because of the taboo nature of it, I think, it's as intense an orgasm as I've ever known. "Uhhh...Auhh—GaWD, Son!"

My words falter. Even as I come, I feel a tear stream from my eyes, I can't help it, my sex-cry is as much an emotional release as it is physical—liberating, both body and soul. Arching my back, my hips rise, and with my ass barely off the bed sheets, I can feel Jacob's warm cum actively dribble from where we are joined in a shared, bodily bliss. "Oh, Mom," I hear him between panting breaths.

Holding tight to my son, my orgasm peaks, and though I relish in Jacob's pleasure and mine, I do not entirely revel in the mere gratification of our lust, I also celebrate him, my son, and my love for him—our shared love, for one another.

Having clearly ejaculated, Jacobs's energetic lurches on me gradually subside and, for a moment, I simply hold him tight, his spent cock still within me. The boy talks to me without looking to my face, "are...are you okay, Mom?"

I shift beneath my son and whether he wants to look into my eyes or not, I cup his face in my hands and gaze into his, "I'm more than okay, Jacob...I'm better now than I have been in a long time."

The boy looks to me coyly; I find it ironic, considering I can feel his cum, slick and tacky, dripping from me to the bedsheet.

"I'm, uh...I'm sorry about the pictures, Mom."

To this, a smile stretches across my lips, "no, you're not."

Jacob produces a devilish grin, a similar grin to that of his father, yet completely his own, "you're right, I'm not, not at all. Heh heh."

As I giggle, the boy laughs and after a moment of banter, his cock slips from me. Half our bodies under the blankets, Jacob rests by my side. Together we converse, setting a few simple conditions upon our mutual desire to continue to share sex; our love, however, remains unconditional.

Throughout the morning and early afternoon, Jacob and I make love—fun, tender, lustful and happy—the bed, continuing to squeak as we eagerly do so. Finally, having straddled his lap and ridden him, I reach to the nightstand, taking my cell phone in hand even as my son's cock, having issued but a spurt of cum, throbs inside of me. My long hair, tangled and tossed from the body rolls of passionate sex, I lean forward, pressing my face to Jacob's as I raise the cell phone to take a photo.

"Say cheese."

Though he doesn't say the word, Jacob does smile. I put a kiss to his lips and the photo is taken.

As I rise again, the boy plays with my tits while I inspect the picture: me, my son and my dangling breasts are in grand view.

"Did you take the picture so that we can add it to the rest of the collection?" the boy asks.

"Hmm, no but I can if you like. I'm actually sending it to a friend, someone who thought you to be quite handsome actually."

"Oh, well she has good taste."

I nod, snickering, "yes, she does."

With no reluctance, I send the picture to my friend, Ribbon, who within but a few seconds replies. Message: You go, Gwendolyn—be happy, girl!

Tossing the phone aside, I smile, lean forward and begin to passionately kiss my beloved son. His hands firmly groping my naked breasts, it isn't long at all before I feel his youthful cock, rise hard and ready again.

Smile on my face, I fuck Jacob with passionate zeal and though my late husband would assuredly not approve of my taking on our son as a lover, I think in the end, he would understand—at least, somewhat. Jacob is part of him after all, the only part of him I have left—and the best part of us both.

The End.