Her Boy Comes Home

Yesterday he'd dipped a finger inside my jeans to peek at my panties. Today I wouldn't allow him that opportunity. I crooked my thumb in the loose neck of my shirt and lowered it, revealing the lacy edge of my bra.

Bob walked over to join me and kissed my cheek, placed his hand on my hip, under the hem of my shirt, standing inches from me, said in a low conspiratorial tone, "I'm afraid I have all the wrong thoughts in my head at the moment Mum."

His hand was moving up the side of my body. He was searching for my brassiere.

My heart was thumping in my chest.

"So.....haaaave I....Bob. Oh dear... we..we..no we mus...............t"

He had found the clasp of my bra and expertly, with one hand, which Frank could never master, sprung it loose, releasing the very udders that had nurtured him until he was two and Frank loved to watch, occasionally have a suck, and his other hand snaked up to fondle my big, floppy knockers, as the girls and some of the men at work call them.

"We're in the kitchen darling, next door might be out in the garden," I breathed as he tweaked a very erect teat.

"Who cares?" he replied undoing my shirt buttons, then. "Yes good point Mum, you have to live here."

Without further words, he led me hand in hand to the spare bedroom which was a glorified store room for my spare and unwanted clothes due for the charity shop – heaps of them, on the bed and the floor. I pondered why here, but as he had said – who cares.

We collapsed onto the bed, ignoring the mass of textures, materials and scents. This chap is skilled I mused as he had me naked in seconds. I lay back and enjoyed the first male hands on my mature body for two long years. But it's your son Wendy, my mind was screaming as he went down on me, sliding to his knees beside the bed and shoving my chubby legs apart.

"Mmm...fff your..mmmmfff puuuuubeeebs....are lovely Mum." He finally said having raised his slobbering mouth from my snatch to glance over my heaving, rotund belly.

I had no idea what he said, but I slid my hands to my crotch and thought I'd help by flattening my cunt hairs giving him access to my twat. Dirty words and terms were rampant now, in the unaccustomed incestual rapture I was experiencing. Bob flapped away my hands.

"I nearly trimmed them back for you, you know modern girls..."

"No don't Mum I love hairy ones, not like these smoothies on porno videos." He argued before going back to searching the depths of my fanny with a very clever tongue.

"Was Chunhua...she must have been hairy? I queried, interrupting again, having stopped myself adding that his Dad did too.

"Wow yes, amazing bush and so black, it went right through here," he giggled, fingering from my twat down to my arsehole. "Got to tell you I suppose, I did her sister too and she was fifty...sorry"

That did sho....no it stunned me, but anything Bob said or did now was of no consequence, my son was doing cunnilingus... that's what my doctor boss would call it, and it was delightful.

He reached for my thong, sniffed the crotch then placed it on his head, the gusset over his nose, telling me that Chunhua had taught him about the sexual odours of a woman and how he adored it.

My legs were thrust high and he stood, gripped my ankles, stared down at my crotch, smiling like a conqueror, albeit stupidly with a lacy bit of cotton on his head, as I took in the magnificent sight of his erection. Very thick, bulbous with a big fat greasy knob and menacing – shit! would that go in me, it wasn't long..... buuuuuut........ urrghhhh... until I felt it deep and shagging me like there was no tomorrow and his mobile phone rang from his shorts pocket on the bed..

"Ignore it...," I panted, but typical of youngsters today, he couldn't, and in reaching for it, Bob rolled out of me.

I reached for him, finding his hard buttocks, then his arse crack, I even dared to insert my finger in his hole, just to keep connected, but he pulled away, stood up and signalled that he had to go to his room and sauntered off.

"FFFUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" I screamed, not worried about neighbours hearing.

By the end of his all too important call to leave a lady, his mother or not, half fucked, frustrated and albeit a little ashamed at the illicit things the phone had ended, left me as not a happy bunny with an unhappier pussy. My sex mojo had left me and I sluiced my crotch, dressed and went shopping. Handling the bananas in the supermarket I thought of what had happened and what didn't happen and would it happen this evening after the opera.