It's The Heat

Maybe it was the boldness of the questions that caught me off-guard, or the dirty ideas implanted in my mind that my son might be trying to seduce me. I even thought to myself that if he came right out and demanded me to undress, I would probably entertain the idea, and maybe more. This little secret I kept closely tucked away, but I fear that my body betrayed my emotions. I often stuttered to respond. and I blushed when I should have reacted angrily. When I countered that "Do you just want to catch your mother naked?" Or, "Wouldn't you think that I was a slut if I sat infront of the fan naked, while my son was in the room?" And, "If you can already see through my outfit, why would you want to see more?"

His reply would always be coated with innocence, when there was an undercurrent of crude sexuality. "Mom, I just want you to be comfortable and happy." Then he'd say, "If I can't see you naked, who can?" And, one of my favorites though I didn't catch it's full meaning until later, "I'm not suggesting anything dirty or that we should commit incest, yet..." The more that I listened, the more his words defeated the crumbling defenses I had struggled to maintain. After every encounter with him I had to rush to my room or the tub for some privacy. There his words formed in my head again with all of their lewd innuendos, and my jittery fingers would traipse along the moist folds and delicate crannies of my pussy, until the little nub of my clit yearned to be abraded and abused. Every image that presented itself was of my son groping and fondling my body, ripping the clothes from my sweaty torso and throwing me on the couch as the fan cooled our drenched, heaving forms. Then he would force his big cock into my innocent vagina, and pour his seed into me. The mere thoughts caused my poor body to shake. The orgasms were coming constantly, sometimes before I could sneak away. He obviously saw my twitching and squirming while I sat infront of him, trapped by his steely gaze and too ashamed to slink out of the room with a fragrant wet spot wicking in my bottoms.

And the verbal assaults on my delicate psyche were only half of it. While he gracelessly appraises my tits, legs and pussy his hand is in constant motion. Even when I could no longer avoid eye contact, or thought that by staring back at him he would cease, his hand was always in his shorts fumbling and fondling that great snake. I began to wonder just how big it was. This was just harmless imagining, nothing would ever come of it. But I could never fully get the picture of his cock, out of my head. His squat, limpid cock would gradually stiffen under his trunks, to the point of the enormous mushroomed head poking out. He knew that his mom was watching, and still his meaty hand roughly stroked the big piston or his thumb rubbed across the opening at the tip, spreading the oily droplets of precum along the helmeted cap. I stared in wonder and amazement that he was not shy at all in displaying such aberrant behavior. And infact he seemed proud of his anatomy and especially of his prodigious organ. He would deliberately stroke his gigantic erection until it grew to it's full, loaded girth and length. And it was amazing, shamefully I couldn't keep my eyes from it. And he obviously noticed. It is as if he were challenging me or inviting me to react. I didn't want it, I just wanted to see it. (That's not so bad, is it?)

On some occasions I wasn't quick enough to leave the room, or was so stunned at this escalation of events that I didn't denounce his lewd behavior. It was purely because I was so surprised, (atleast that is how I convinced myself.) It couldn't have been the erotic feeling of wanting to watch my son stroke his big tool just to titillate his mom's sinful libido. Or that I wanted him to see and understand my lustful appreciation of his performance. Or certainly not to show him that I openly crave his big cock and fantasize about the sensation of his enormous rod drilling deep inside of me.

All of these actions culminated at the morning breakfast table that day. I was studying his hand under the glass as he knew he was directing me to. It cradled the cramped little pocket formed in the folds of his shorts, where his plum-sized balls were exposed and being jostled and adjusted by his big hand. The fingers strummed over the large, hairy shaft like a concert pianist plying the keys of his instrument. The big pink prick sprouted from his shorts, it was shiny and wet from his dew. The swollen lidless eye appeared to watch me, bobbing and weaving like a cobra being called by the flute.

Ted made no further mystery that he was sizing-up my body, looking straight through my damp top and mentioning to me, how nice it would be to suck on my pouty nipples. In turn, his hand moved from caressing his tight loose-hanging gonads and stroking the slippery length of his thick cock. When he cradled and cupped his balls I could easily picture his hand weighing and fondling my pert breasts. My poor pussy was overwhelmed by the sensual sensations and my pointy nipples were threatening to cut through the wet fabric of my top.

But it wasn't just this hand that captured my attention. My eyes were redirected to the top of the table and the hand holding his juice glass. I was drawn to the slow, rhythmic motion of his hand gliding up and down the cylindrical shaft of the glass. The condensation wet his palm as his loose grip moved seductively to the very top and then back down to the thicker, wider base of the glass, sliding effortlessly at an increasing cadence.

It was hypnotic to watch his hand move along the smooth, clear column lubed by the moisture on the glass. When his fingers reached the top, he playfully guided just the tips of his digits over the rim of the wet glass producing a squeaking noise that I wasn't certain at first, might not have been escaping my puckered lips. I watched entranced as the dewy droplets of moisture formed at the ridge and then slowly trickled all the way to the thick bottom. My breathing rose and halted with each tiny bead of water and then I would let out a deep, almost moaning exhale, as my eye followed the wetness. My boobs stood at attention and then my lungs relaxed causing them to rise and fall with my eyes.

I could feel my tongue hanging loosely from my dry, hungry lips, the helpless slobber seeping down my chin. I caught myself with my hand under my shirt. I had begun to mop-up the river of perspiration puddling at my slight cleavage, but my hand had caught at my bra and was now cupping the soft undersides of my small breasts, and the fingers moved over the wet flesh to tweak the stiff nipples with the same rhythm employed by his fingers circling the lip of his glass. I could readily have started the masturbatory cycle right there; my legs were wide apart with fluid oozing down my thigh, my chest heaved and the nipples were rough and hard as diamonds, my breathing was stilted and my body began to shiver and rumble.

I sensed a quiet in the room and slowly shifted my gaze to him. The cool blue eyes were boring in on me. Teddy had been studying my gestures as I had his. I was wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights. I quickly acted to remove my sweaty hand from my slippery chest. Ofcourse the clingy, wet material snagged my bracelet as I yanked my hand down, nearly ripping the soggy tank top from my neck and strangling me in the comical process. I must have looked like a madwoman struggling to escape from a straight-jacket He only smiled.

I was agitated and breathing rapidly. Even in a cold room, my body would have been soaked-through with sweat. Loose strands of my blonde locks escaped my ponytail and clung to my face. My body slumped in my chair, with my wet back practically glued to the plastic seat cushion. The flimsy shirt stuck to me like a second skin, with my pointed nips protruding straight ahead. His eyes took-in every detail, the blue orbs shining on me like a spotlight.

His eyes couldn't conceal the wanton pleasure he received from catching me lusting over his sensual maneuverings. His toothy smile, framed by a sexy stubble of blonde chin hairs, was gleaming like a cat snaring a canary.

The waistband of my damp pink bikini was soaked through with flop sweat from my total embarrassment and humiliation of crudely imagining a lurid meaning to his seemingly innocuous gestures and the shivering, full-body blush of having been so obviously trapped. But even more alarming as I lowered my eyes to avoid his penetrating stare, was to see the crotch of my pink bottoms turning a scarlet shade of red with moisture that was not from sweat, and the cloth becoming more translucent to the point that I could discern, as I'm sure he could also, the pouty folds of my labia swelling above the close-cropped, wiry pubes of my vagina.

I could sense the aroma of pheromones and passion emanating from my pores and I'm certain that I could also sniff the musky fragrance of my own vaginal juices as the sticky liquids wicked into my bottoms. The sweet, acidic smell lingered in the stuffy air. I imagine that Teddy could feel it too.

I was frozen in place, cold sweat dripping into my cleavage and pooling down my back into the crack of my ass, causing my body to tremble. But a hot flash starting in my uterus and rising through my twitching belly, alit on the erect tips of my nipples and colored my chest and neck in the warm, tingly glow of shame. Revealing my indecent emotions with a sinful blush for my Svengali-like son to revel in.

My only logical escape as I scanned the room, was to stumble towards the sink, where I filled the basin with hot, soapy water. I could only shield my eyes from his smoldering appraisal by staring absently out the window. Not really seeing anything but his rapacious smile. My knees knocked and my bare legs shook, barely supporting my weight. My hands trembled as I rattled the dishes to be washed. All the while, my ears were attuned to the stuttering rumble of the chair legs being pushed away from the table and the light patter of his bare-footed approach calmly stealing-in behind me.

His shadow stole across the porcelain and his cool, fruity breath chilled the perspiration on my neck. I'm used to his coming up behind me and hugging me in a warm embrace. His light footfalls always brought a comforting, loving smile to my face. This was different. I felt the rubber band that was binding my dank mane give way as he tugged it free of my straggly hair. His fingers combed through my wet tangles and he fanned-out the ends on my shoulders. Soft kisses dotted my neck and ripples of excitement surged through my limp torso. Two strong hands began rubbing the tense knots of my upper back, bringing back memories of how he would sweetly bring an end to my work days, soothing the aching joints of my tired body.

But one of those hands traced a tingly, alarming path along my backbone and to the elastic waistband of my sodden swim bottoms. The second hand circled my waist and from the front, started a slow climb up my ribcage and under my loose top, advancing towards my sheer, soggy bra. I cautiously captured his wrist in my grip, but really my arm was only along for the ride. We could both see what this was leading to. And though I was unsure of myself, I certainly wasn't fighting him off. I was simply steadying his aim while his strong hand reached under my bra and grasped my firm tits. Was I a conspirator in my own seduction?

Up until now, I hadn't uttered a sound. My teeth were biting into my lip and a low, throaty hum vibrated my vocal cords. With each motion of his surprisingly sensitive fingers on my pliant breasts, an audible gasp sputtered from my slackened lips. I needed to say something, but what? He now had hold of my small chest in his large hand and my upper body rocked and lunged under his steady caress. I felt faint. Ted's finger and thumb tweaked and pinched at my rubbery nipples. I made soft noises like a trilling purr. Then I felt my back being persistently leveraged to the tile surface and suddenly his other hand was tugging at my bikini.

Still I made no protest and offered only token resistance as the side of my face was pressed against the cool counter. I was moaning slightly under my breath and found myself continuously mouthing the word "Yes." My bottoms were being gradually lowered across the firm, round cheeks of my squirming butt. Only the wetness of my skin and the creamy juices of my pussy gripping the crotch of the panties, was delaying the inevitable. For my part, my hips were shifting and swaying to allow the damp fabric to shimmy down my thighs. If he had any lingering anxiety about me accusing him of rape or mentioning the immorality of this sordid affair, they must have been eased now. There was one last, wet feeling of total surrender as the sloppy pink material slid down my wet legs and I had to step out of the moist cloth and kick it aside.

With one quick thrilling motion, my top and bra were hoisted over my head and joined my bottoms in a damp pile on the floor. I was now completely naked, my knotted hair a mess, and with one hand he held me to the counter while his other hand massaged my bare ass. I anxiously awaited my son's next move. My pussy leaked the beginnings of what I felt to be a tremendous orgasm. I shivered in a perplexing state of arousal, questioning my own deviant intentions.

The prodding, insistent head of his straining cock was probing at the sweaty, anticipating entrance of my love-hole. Finally after shakily clearing my throat a few times, and swallowing hard to find some courage, I found my stuttering voice. It was less than defiant. I squeaked, "Are you sure that this is what you want, Teddy? "He answered by parting my outer lips and spreading my legs, splaying me open as I lay fileted across the counter. "Things will never be the same between us, if we go through with this," I reasoned almost to myself. As if that weren't drastically apparent already. "Do you really want to fuck me? Is that it, you want to fuck your mother? Then what?" I was running out of stupid questions!

Was this truly happening, I seriously had to ask of myself. Am I not going to fight this, or even argue? I told myself that this couldn't really be true. I may have thought about it. I may even have fantasized about it. But now my son's cock was circling the swollen opening of my horny cunt. My son was about to fuck me. Right on the kitchen sink. Right in the middle of the afternoon. He was about to commit incest with his mom.

Slowly and cautiously, as if defusing a bomb, I reached behind my own butt with my free hand and groped for his throbbing, sturdy organ while it bumped against my eager snatch. That marvelous tool, that at this very minute was sliding along the moist, slick valley of my pussy. My wary hand steadied it in my light grip and slid it's solid length up and down the quivering lips, actually serving to help lubricate the entire width and circumference of his fleshy pole with the oily secretions of my wanton snatch. In trying to get my first tingling feel of his throbbing monster, I was inadvertently coating it with my wetness and aiding in my own eventual fucking. Just the hot tip of his bulging cockhead against my aching, waiting cunt, sent ripples of electricity pulsing through my whole anatomy. I knew that this is what I wanted. Now he expressed to me his taboo plan and his lusty desire, and what part I was to play in it.

"Take it mom," he murmured into my ear in a raspy , breathless command. "Put it in," he groaned as he buried his face in my neck and nibbled on my lobe. His tone was suddenly forceful and demanding, and he realized my submission. Now the action was reversed. He took my hand in his, and compelled me to glide my sweaty palm over the fleshy ridges and bumpy blue veins of his rigid rod to apply the viscous moisture oozing from my wanton cunt evenly along the grand dimensions of his enormous cock. I felt the sticky skin of this pulsing tool straining in my loose grip and my hand was drawn to the fleshy dome of his spear. I had never seen as big a cock, it had pornographic characteristics. The huge cap seemed impossibly large and forboding for it's intended penetration and I knew instinctively to thoroughly lubricate the angry looking torpedo.

His controlling hand was no longer necessary, I knew that I wanted it, and I knew that it had to be greased-up if it were to enter my tight pussy without destroying my insides. My hand commenced a rapid, steady jerking motion on his slick, throbbing cock. I was serving to lube it up while also extending it's considerable girth, and preparing it for his taboo insertion. "Do it mom," he groaned as I stroked him. "Get it ready. We both know that this is what you want, What you need." It stuck in my warped imagination that I was not only masturbating my own son, but easing the path of our incestuous tryst. "Oh Gawd that feels good, I want to stick it deep inside your hot cunt and fuck you all day long." His naughty words of encouragement just egged me on. He was expertly breaking down my thin resistance.

Plus I was obviously making his big knob a smoother glide-path for my own pleasure and also signaling to him that I was willing and excited for this forbidden fantasy to proceed. There was no longer any need for force or barely a need for persuasion. Though the fact that he was a dominant partner was an added turn-on.

I was bent over the hard surface of the sink. The cool tile was refreshing on my hot body. His hand was roughly massaging my small chest while securely holding me in place with a firm grip. His grasp on my tits was squeezing and kneading my supple breasts as if he were working dough. My pink nipples were putty in his hands. Ted's body was between my legs, his knees prying my own further apart. And the flared ridge and bullet-shaped cap of his slickened pole was making it's first exploratory advances inside my yearning pussy. I directed it towards my tight, wet entrance.

When the huge helmet broke through, I jumped a little and squeaked-out a timid, startled appeal for him to be gentle with me. It had been quite a while since anything had penetrated me, and despite my obvious arousal and the heavily lubed sheen of the invading shaft, I still needed to indelicately spread my snug lips with my fingers. I had to help ease the alabaster giant on it's way until the huge head achieved a secure purchase.

"That's it mom," he instructed me. "Stick it in there. You know you want my cock, you little slut! Push your ass back and take all of me, just like that, and give me your hot cunt!" His crass words startled me, but how much gentlemanly prose could I expect of a boy who was fucking his mother? And how easily he labeled me a slut? But it did get my juices flowing like an open spigot. Once the big head was in, and my initial hesitation and alarm were overcome, he could see that my trepidation was gradually giving way to a bawdy enthusiasm. He paused for just a second, allowing me a moment to adjust to the fleshy assault on my near-virginal vagina. Or maybe it was to be certain that I would not scream and demand that he unhand me. Experiencing no rebuff, and anxious to continue his incestuous ravishing of my snatch, his rod began a determined, yet passionate in-and-out motion that was slightly complicated by the uncomfortably tight contours of my long-neglected pussy. But soon the electric thrill combined with the skin-on-skin abrasion, sent tingles to my nerves and a seismic shock-wave from my dizzy head to my dancing toes.

His powerful thrusts were driving me against the counter and I felt the full weight of his slippery torso on my back. My boobs were being crushed on the tile. It took only a few seconds more to hammer the thick shaft all the way forward against my cervix, and jam it in to the stout base. I could feel his loose-hanging, leathery balls banging against my thighs and heard the erotic slapping of wet flesh as his urges became more demanding. His long, hard tool stretched me out and filled me up. It was as if he were aiming for my kidneys. I could not believe the intense pressure and nothing had ever made feel so satisfied.