Happy Birthday, Son

All characters in this story who engage in sex are over 18 years of age.

It was my apartment, I lived there alone, so there was no reason I couldn't jerk off on my bed with the door open.

I didn't hear mum come in. She has a key, she usually calls before she visits, but today, being my birthday, she had planned to surprise me. I don't think she had this particular surprise in mind though.

So there I was, watching a milf getting licked out on my favourite incest porn channel, and so ready to cum. I was on my back, I was gonna blow on my stomach before I had a shower. A few seconds that changed my life were approaching.

Picture the scene. I'm so close to cumming that nothing was going to stop me. I catch movement in my bedroom door. Mum is standing there, a shopping bag in her hand, and my cock erupts into the air just as I look towards the door. Straight into mum's eyes.

She was clearly shocked, but here's the thing: In the five seconds or so of my ejaculation, her eyes spent four of them watching my cock spurt. It's frozen into my brain forever. Mum in a light blue v-neck cotton dress, dark blue little flowers printed on it, thin straps over her shoulders, a small amount of cleavage showing her ample chest, a conflicted look on her face as she watched - not 'saw' but 'watched' - her own son ejaculating.

I could have rolled over, covered myself, whatever. And she could have closed her eyes, spun around and moved away from the doorway. In those few seconds, we both allowed ourselves to admit something we had always known about each other. But that was still to come in the hours that followed.

As I squeezed the last of my jizz from my knob, mum did indeed turn away. I called after her: "It's OK mum. It was an accident."

I showered, dressed, and went into the kitchen. She was fussing with the contents of the shopping bag. She was blushing, and said: "Um, happy birthday Tony. I guess!"

I smiled as she looked away, unable to hold my gaze. I spoke: "Mum, it's OK. You didn't mean to, and I..."

"Stop, please Tony."

"If you don't want to talk about it, I understand mum."

"No. You don't. You're my son."

I stayed silent. She was selecting her next words.

"You're my son, what you were doing is perfectly normal and natural, except... Shit!"

She looked directly into my eyes.

"Tony, I'm no teenager. I know what I felt, and you felt it too. I could see it in your eyes."

I gulped. She was braver than me.

"What are you saying mum?"

"Tony, you were watching me while I was... watching you. We both know it. And you're my son. This would be a funny anecdote if not for that fact."

"I don't follow."

"Tony, I should have... I could have just turned away but I wanted to see you... finish." She stopped what she was doing, hands flat on the bench, her head bowed.

I tried some humour to lighten the serious atmosphere: "Well, it's not every day you walk in on a young guy masturbating! Maybe you just couldn't help staying for the finale!"

"Maybe." She was smiling, then she got serious again: "But you're missing the point. I'm trying to tell you... Um, Tony I wanted to see you finish because it was you. My son. Do you understand now?"

I thought I did, but my mind was racing through all kinds of confusion right then.

"Um, how did you feel when... when I came?"

"That's my point Tony. Come here for a moment."

My wooden legs somehow covered the distance. I was a robot, I had no sense of what was happening, and then suddenly I was standing face to face with my mother, she had lifted the hem of her dress and put my hand inside her panties. I gasped.

"That is how I felt, baby. Oh! Oh god. I'm already...gonna..."

She was warm and wet around my index finger, and I felt her shudder, heard her pulsing exhalation of breath, and my brain recognised that my mother had just had an orgasm with my finger inside her pussy.

In that instant I was raging desire. I had to have her. With both hands I reached under her dress and pulled her panties down her thighs. She stopped them half-way to her knees: "Oh no, baby, wait!"

I couldn't. I tugged at her panties. She held them firmly. I got to my knees and tried to pull them down, still she held them. I backed her up half a pace until her ass was against the kitchen table. She had to put one hand behind her for balance, the other still held her panties up. I gave up that assault and lifted her dress, instantly burying my head between her partly-closed thighs.

"Oh no, Tony. Don't! Please don't!"

I smelt her, I saw her wetness and her pussy lips below her close-cropped pubic hairs. She was still resisting; I couldn't get my mouth close enough for contact and I'd never licked a pussy before anyway. So I stood, looked down slightly into her eyes, and I said: "Tell me you don't want to. After you came on my finger, tell me you don't want to!"

I saw the conflict in her eyes, her furrowed brow. I was shivering with desire, almost out of control, but I couldn't harm her. Despite the aching steel rod in my shorts, I could still control myself. Barely.

Her spell over me returned. My brain and body were robotic responding to her. She put one hand on my chest and gently pushed me back, but not in rejection. She wriggled out of her panties, somehow my shorts fell to the floor and I got closer to her, my rigid cock pointing straight up, and then a cool hand took it, she was leaning back, her legs came open as the table supported her, I leaned forwards, then... heaven. Under her dress, my cock slipped into her hot wetness and I held it there, shivering, incoherent with lust. Her left foot was banging my ass, urging me to push. I began fucking, gently, so engulfed by the sensation, the realisation of what we were doing, what my mother and I were doing, that all my teenage lust welled up and stiffened my cock like never before.

She was panting and pushing back. I felt her pussy so intensely that I thought my flesh and hers had merged into one, continuous organ.

I put one arm around her waist and the other under her left thigh. Effortlessly in my need for her, I lifted her off the table and laid my mother on the floor. Now both her legs wrapped around my waist, she was completely open underneath me, and she pulled my head next to hers: "It's OK, baby. I want you to cum inside me."

She didn't have to say it again. In this position I was so far inside her that I could feel the tight knot at the entrance to her womb. My womb. Where I was formed. I was fucking the woman who gave me life, my cock was about to empty my balls back where I came from. And it was impossible to stop.

I heard mum moan, low and guttural, and I felt her pussy liquefy as I thrust into her.

"Oh now, baby! Fill me up! Fill your mummy!"

Space and time meant nothing. My cock inside my mother was my entire being, and it was about to spurt inside her. She wriggled and moaned underneath me, I raised myself onto my hands to look down at her. Mum's hair was matted with sweat as her eyes burned into mine.

And I came. With her, in her, I came in gobs of cum that seemed to come from my very soul, like a chain being pulled through my cock, and she came too. Our eyes closed at the same time, opened again at the same time, as mother and son shared the most private, perfect, orgasmic plane, there, on my kitchen floor, but also somewhere on another planet.

Even then it wasn't over. My heart was beating like a tribal drum in my chest. I felt hers through my own flesh. I felt my cock twitching, and her pussy answering it. In her panting afterglow, her chest heaved in its cotton prison.

I looked into my mother's face for whatever she was thinking. She looked up at me, stroked my cheek and forehead, and said: "Phew!"

I laughed. It said everything - that it was good, that it was right, and that she was OK.

I made to get off her.

"No! Stay inside me a little longer."

"Isn't the floor hard?"

"A little. But I've needed... For so long I've needed... Oh hell. Just stay inside me, OK?"

I was nineteen that very day. I'd always been like a rabbit when I was aroused, and right now 'aroused' was an inadequate word. I stayed hard. Mum was impressed.

"Wow, baby! Did I do that to you?"

"You always did, mum."

"Oh. I'm not sure how to react to that!"

"I still want to..."

"Me too. Take me to bed."

On my bed she threw the covers aside and lay beside me, we each lay on our sides propped our heads on our hands.

"Mum?"

"Yes, baby."

"Um, dumb thing. But... I haven't seen you naked. Except in my wildest dreams of course."

"Oh. So, you wanna see your mummy naked, is that it?"

"Yes please."

"Can't a lady retain some mystery?"

"Show me everything, mum."

She knelt on the bed with her knees apart. I could see the wet mat of her pubes and the hint of her parted pussy lips. She half-blushed as she pulled her dress over her head in a single movement. Her ample breasts sprang out as the cotton left them. With a wicked bite of her bottom lip, she reached behind herself and I heard a faint 'splip' as the catch gave way, then the cups of her bra fell to her stomach. At forty my mother was an artist's dream - perfect round breasts, large enough to droop a little but clearly firm enough to hold their own weight. Her torso angled down towards her waist, which curved outwards to her hips, and between them a vee-stomach with just the hint of flesh above it.

I drank this all in. Mum stayed there, letting me look at every inch of her body with lust as she showed it with justifiable pride. Eventually my eyes rested on hers. The intensity in them and her calm smile conveyed everything in an instant. This was right, it was good, and it was now and forever.

My cock ached for contact. I gripped it and jerked slowly; I hadn't realised I'd done it until mum said: "Oh no you don't, soldier!" and suddenly my cock was buried in her mouth, her lips right around the base and I felt a gnarly knot around my knob. I was being deep-throated by my own mother. She gagged a little and withdrew, slurping noisily as she moistened my erection with her tongue. Jacking me slowly with her hand, she worked my knob and shaft with her lips.

I'd only ever dreamed of getting my cock sucked. If I'm honest I mostly dreamed of getting it sucked by her, and now here she was. I lay back - having ejaculated twice in half an hour, I enjoyed the very peaks of erotic pleasure without a crescendo and subsequent pause. And I have to hand it to her; mum is one horny woman.

After sucking me for a few minutes, she got astride me. I watched her grin as she held my knob at the entrance to her velvety glove, and I watched her grin melt as she lowered herself onto my full length. Her brow furrowed, she threw her head back and moaned so low and deep that I could feel her voice through my cock.

She thrust her hips forwards and backwards oh so gently at first, eyes closed, with me buried completely inside her. I looked down and realised she was rubbing her clit against my pubic mound. Awkwardly I got my thumb onto it and she gasped. With her hand she guided me to where and how she liked to be touched, and my reward for getting it right two minutes later was to watch her face clear of all tension as she came in little juddering twitches.

I flipped her over onto her back and got on top. She was liquid heat now, and I fucked furiously for two or three minutes until she calmed my pace and showed me how to fuck. I mean that - with little gestures and demonstrations, she got me into a rhythm that was pure ecstasy, my hips and hers in harmony so that cock and cunt made best use of each other.

Once we were gently fucking, she began whispering into my ear: "So, you said before that I turned you on..."

"Mmm Hmm."

"Is this what you dreamed of?"

"Oh yeah."

"Really? Fucking your mother?"

"Yes."

"And now you are."

"Yes."

"Say it."

"Huh?"

"Say it. Say what we're doing."

"I'm fucking my mother."

"Mmm. And I'm fucking my son."

My passion surged, as surely she knew it would.

"Oh, your cock likes that. Doesn't it? When I say I'm fucking my son. My own son."

"Oh god, mum!"

"Right up inside my pussy, isn't it son?"

"Oh F-fuck!"

"Mmm, that's it baby. Fuck me. Fuck mummy."

"Oh. Oh shit. I'm cumming mum!"

A thousand incest fantasies merged to become one insistent, unstoppable torrent from my balls through my shaft. I propped onto my arms and looked down. A few seconds before I ejaculated, my eyes and brain worked together. My eyes saw my cock, slick and shining, disappear inside mum's slippery tunnel, I saw the sheen of sweat on her stomach, her tits bouncing and shuddering in shock waves a split second after the sound of my groin wetly slapping her thighs, and then my thoughts returning over and over again: 'That's mums' pussy. Mum's tits. Mum's face...'

Looking into her eyes, there was only motherly lust. The look belongs only to mothers who are their son's lovers. And it sent me over the edge, spurting wildly, groaning, twitching like I was electrified, pushing hard to try to force my cock inside the womb that had made me, panting, thumping heart, spurting cock, all for her, my mother.

Breathing like I'd run an uphill marathon, I collapsed sweating on top of her.

Still inside her and twitching, mum kissed my cheek, stroked her hands down my sweating, twitching back, and said, in a throaty voice: "Happy birthday, son."