Kendo's Video

"Okay," I whispered, to her and to myself. "Let's just get the rest of the way through -- ow."

Returning my head to that perfect angle over her mound set off a horrible crick in my neck. I tried to shift and find a posture that would get my nose in as close as it had been, but the pain in my neck and a burn in my knees said I'd been stooped over her with my head turned for too long already.

Shit.

My hand kept moving along the sticky cylinder of my cock, but my brain couldn't get away from her crotch. I needed that smell. I needed to be right there on it.

Okay. What about from the other direction?

I turned the opposite way, aimed my head the same direction as Mom's, and leaned over. But while I could get the tip of my nose where I wanted it, my nostrils pointed away from her vulva instead of toward it. And my knees still weren't having that bend I forced them into.

What if I kneel ...

I tried it, but ended up with my rib-cage right on her knee.

Fuck it, I thought. She didn't even twitch when I tried to pick her up earlier. Just move her legs again.

So I did. I let go of the death-grip I had on my cock, took her left leg by the ankle and the knee, and lifted and bent it until her heel almost touched her ass and her raised thigh rested flush with the back of the couch. The right leg -- I could only see one means of getting it out of the way, which was to pick it up enough I could duck in under it and let her calf hook over my shoulder.

That left me nestled in place on my knees, chest supported by my right arm and the couch, Mom's legs framing my whole upper body -- and face right there at her crotch. I breathed deep of her warm, heady musk and got my hand back on my erection.

Okay, no messing around. Just hurry and get this done.

"mmm," I whispered, then replaced the breath of that whisper with another long inhalation of womanly scent. I'd never been this aroused in my life. Despite telling myself to hurry, the movement of my hand around my shaft stayed slow and loose -- almost lost in the dreamy density of the air between her legs. "mommm, your pussy ..."

I just couldn't get myself to pick up my pace. The whole thing felt like beautiful, languid foreplay too perfect to be rushed.

"... it smells so good down here ..."

More precum surged out of my tip, glossing me, letting my strokes glide more smoothly. My hips moved almost on their own, fucking my shaft through the slippery grip of my fingers. "yessss, mom ... suck me ..."

Her face, from the video, filled my head along with the sweetness breathed in from her mound. My hand became her mouth, engulfing my hard-on like she'd swallowed Trace's massive prick. I could hear the swishing sound of her spit, feel the delight of her lips around me.

"yes ... oh -- oh, yesss ..."

And then I had to go and think, It smells so good ... what does she taste like?

My hand froze. I stopped breathing. My eyes opened to see the swell of my own mother's pussy barely an inch from my lips.

I could totally find out.

With a glance up, I saw that she still hadn't stirred by so much as a hair. Her breath flowed as steady as a seashell's whisper.

I could. Her pants had a pretty low waistline. All it would take would be sliding them down just a couple of inches ...

And at the moment I decided those thoughts made me the worst person in the world, Mom shifted ever so slightly and murmurred, "Nhhshlllhh ... m'huhhh."

Then her legs flexed, and the calf laid flush across my left shoulder tugged just enough to tip me forward and bump my lips against her crotch.

"Doh'nsop ... hhhh ..."

It was just a split-second of impact: my mouth bounced against the soft curve of her mound, sensed the unyielding pubic arch behind it, and came away again. But I'd never felt anything as awe-inspiring or terrifying in my life. Panting hard, with the heat of my breath splashing back against my face from the fabric of her stretch pants, I looked up to her face and saw her head barely turned, the eyes either fully closed or lowered to slits. But her lips moved, with small kissing or nibbling motions, or maybe a blind-drunk-and-dreaming attempt to form words.

I tried to ease back -- very, very slowly. In response, the heel she had at my ribs hooked and pulled at me.

"Nnnn ... wur'rr go'nng?" Her head lolled as she spoke, but didn't come up off the arm of the couch, and as far as I could tell, her eyes stayed closed too.

Maybe ... I can get out of this without her waking up any further.

"Shhh," I whispered, keeping my voice too low for her to recognize -- I hoped. "You're super-drunk. I shouldn't --"

"Muh. Whajhmean? Ssssuh ... sssuh wholepoint issint ...?"

She fell still.

Maybe if I just wait, she'll go back under.

But no -- her arms shifted and her hands brushed limply at her waist.

"Why m'pantstillon?"

As if to explain the reason she wanted them off, her hips rolled, and a warm musky waft reminded my nose how close it was to her cunt.

"I --"

Her palms pushed uselessly at the waistband of her yoga pants.

"S'wrong w'these?"

"M ... uh, Mrs. Heath, we really can't it ... wouldn't be right." Still standing out hard against the front of the couch, my dick disagreed with the truthfulness of that statement.

Mom's hands stopped moving, and she fell silent.

Oh god, good. Just hang on for a second, don't move, and let her go back --

She sniffed. Then her head went microscopically side to side. "Buh -- b-huh ... you doh wahmme. Hh-uh ..."

"No, no," I said, desperate to keep her from crying. I fought to get my voice back to a whisper. "I do, I really do, it just wouldn't --"

"Uhh-huh-huh-huh ... blease .. please, I wannih ... sobad ..." Her hands were at her waist again, sliding off the elastic of her waistband.

God. Fucking. Damn.

She still hadn't lifted her head more than a centimeter or two. She's zonked. She'll go back to sleep. She'll go back to sleep. I willed myself not to move. But her drunken sobs and those pointless attempts to get her pants down just tore at my heart.

And every desperate breath pulled more of her womanly arousal into my head through my nose.

What ... if ... I just did something for her?

I'd like to say I agonized over how stupid and crazy that idea was. But the truth is, I didn't even decide. One second, I was thinking it, and the next I was doing it. Her right leg over my shoulder made it easy to raise that side of her ass off the couch, and then my hands were sneaking under the firm flesh of her cheeks to her pants' hem, hooking the fingers in, pulling. Mom moaned something garbled but encouraging. This could work. I'd just get my mouth on her, and lick and maybe finger her until she came, and that would take care of everything. The workout leggings and her panties both rolled down and around her bottom surprisingly easy, their elastic trying to bring her raised thighs together.

And there it was.

I lowered my face back in close, hypnotized.

She had an absolutely perfect mons -- strong, sculpted curves of flesh that hugged the outcrop of her pubic arch. A dainty, prim patch of dark hair just above the crease where her outer lips revealed her clit. And below that, her labia and slit, showing just a hint of shadowy gap and letting out that feminine bouquet, ten times as strong as had seeped through her pants.

I stared for a long time, heart throbbing in my chest, cock still granite-hard and leaking precum but forgotten against the edge of the couch. My eyes took in every little fold and hollow. My nose let an ocean of her waft into my head. Time all but stopped.

Then she tipped her pelvis and groaned needfully, and I let my face drop closer and closer until my open lips brushed at the hood of her clit.

That feather touch of skin to delicate skin felt like it had been waiting for me all my life: sensitive, fragile flesh in barest contact, the absolute reality of her as a woman, beautiful and strong and also subject to the same base yearnings of animal lust that had brought me to this spot. I could have held that position for an hour -- smelling her, reveling in just those few square millimeters of intimate connection.

But as soon as I touched down, her hips responded rhythmically. So I let my lips part and extended my tongue and found her slit with its tip.

In that silky-wet touch, I tasted something between caramel and salmon bisque -- sweet and bold at the same time, soaking into my brain like my whole head was a sponge for the flavor of her sex. It sent a shock rolling through me, and before that jolt made it even halfway to my toes, I sealed my lips down onto her and lapped at that honeyed crease like a man just rescued from the desert and given water.

Writhing and pressing herself to my face, Mom cooed and gasped and let out something that was almost a growl: "Rhrrrrr ..."

For probably a minute, I made out with her vaginal wonders in a frenzy, lungs working like bellows to pull in more and more of that scent as my mouth kissed and licked. The hot musk of her crotch and its deliciously tangy flavor consumed me so thoroughly, I stopped whacking off entirely. In fact, it was the pressure of my unattended hard-on against the edge of the couch that finally slowed me down and made me realize how utterly lost I'd been in the urgency of gorging on her pussy.

I lifted my head, fearing I'd look up to find her staring back at me in horrified recognition. But if anything, her head had tilted even farther back.

And my pause, it turned out, just made her urgent for more.

First, I felt her heels digging in at my rib-cage, trying to coax me forward. Then she got one hand on either side of my face and dragged at it with her palms and weakly curled fingers.

"Mmup," she breathed. "C'mup and puddidinme. Hmmso horny ..."

God, Mom, I want to so bad, I thought. Then: Why the hell don't I, then? I mean, she basically told them she wanted someone to do her in her sleep. And: Because it would be wrong. And if she wakes up enough, if she sees me ... just -- NO.

"Pleeeease ... come fuck meee ..."

Even with her tugging at my ears and begging, my willpower was winning out.

And then a bump of my cock to the couch ran a shock of panic through me. Fuck -- am I getting precum all over the upholstery? What if she notices a little crusty smear there in the morning? And then, What if I'd kept at my plan to beat off and ended up shooting a load all over the cushion?

She kept begging, though, and I realized she'd probably be fine with that. A little flaky white cum-patch would tell her somebody had actually gotten close.

Was that true? Would she really, in the light of day tomorrow, be pleased to find evidence of a horny teen splashing his stuff a foot or so from the unguarded treasure of her snatch?

Or, maybe, would she even be a little disappointed to find it there instead of leaking from her pussy into her panties?

What if that's really what she wanted? To get up in the morning and find out somebody had taken her seriously, thrown caution to the wind, and spooged up into her while she was out?

Inconceivably, my brain tossed out an even bigger what-if.

I could basically give her that -- lie down on top of her with my face turned away, finger her for a while, then point it right at her and finish banging off.

"Fuuuckkk me ..." she groaned, just at the right moment to convince me.

The damp heat of her slit right in front of my mouth washed up and over me again. In my mind's eye, I saw it spread before me once she fell back into post-orgasmic sleep. Waiting for my climax to douse it in thick, white cream that she'd find dried in the crotch of her underwear the next morning. I blinked and swallowed, my chest full of burning lust to see the pearly jets of my cum flicking out across her mound and the dark nest of hair above it.

My left hand went to the shoved-down waistband of my jeans and the briefs inside them and pushed them the rest of the way down, and I crawled up and out of them onto the couch. Her arms opened to welcome me. Her legs lifted and spread farther by a hair. Her eyes remained closed, but she licked her lips and said, "Yessss ..."

I let my chest settle against hers, put my head against her neck where she wouldn't be able to turn and see my face. My legs eased forward until the bare skin of my knees brushed either side of her bottom and my tip stood pointed at her in the darkness between our crotches.

Somehow, not until that moment did I realize that the act of getting into position to blow a load all over the swell and valley of her mons unavoidably put me right where I could easily make a dip and a thrust and start fucking her.

Oh my god, I thought, frozen there with my inner thighs warming at the touch of her bottom and my cock stiffening past any erection I'd ever had. A huge gob of precum welled up out of my tip and ran down the underside of my shaft. What am I doing? What would she think if she came to her senses right now?

But she wasn't going to come to her senses. Her arms had flopped back to her sides. Her heels searched incoherently along my sides, trying to find purchase to pull me forward.

I could just put the tip in and see what it feels like.

Whatever portion of my brain remained rational knew in that moment that it had just thought the most ridiculous thought of my entire life, past, present, or future.

I rotated my hips a little, getting the beam of my erection almost perfectly level. Unthinkingly, I lifted up enough to tilt my head down and watch what I was doing. My left hand, trembling like an earthquake that would break the Richter-scale, snaked between us and took hold to guide me in.

So easily, so effortlessly, I scooted forward until my swollen, round, precum-slick glans bumped into her clit, slid along and down it, and slipped between her labia to enter her.

A throaty gasp came out of me. My head fell back and my eyes rolled up. The feel of her enfolding me put every other pleasure I'd ever had to shame.

She let out a long, contented sigh, and her legs, with heels wrapped around behind me, drew me further forward and down while rotating her pelvis up. The combination got another inch of me into her -- and she made it clear she liked it. "Uhhhhhhhh ..."

With my eyes blinking rapidly, I let out a few helpless whimpers, and then formed the words with my mouth but no sound, "Oh, Mommmm..."

I almost came right in that second. My shaft burgeoned and swelled in slow waves, rolling fat beads of precum out of my tip to coat the intoxicating flesh around it. All I could do was crouch there over her, panting with my cockhead planted in the furrow of my mother's vagina and willing myself to total paralysis.

Mom's lips turned pouty, while her body gave a couple of impatient jerks. "Uh, baby, c'mon, psh in ... hhh ..."

"Shhh," I breathed at her. "If you keep doing that I'm going to come too fast."

"N'fair. I neeeed it. Needidinme. Nofun."

But after her complaints, she lay mostly still, just whining now and again and giving little rolls of her hips. My heart rate slowed to where the blood wasn't rushing deafeningly in my ears, and my breath went in and out at only maybe twice the normal speed. I looked down, then, to stare at where I was.

Insanely, her pussy had swallowed only the front half of my rod -- and trying to get that better look drew my hips back until I could see just a hint of the rim of it, peeking from the beautiful crease below her clit.

Nothing in my whole life had looked so mind-numbingly gorgeous, ever.

The straight, stiff cylinder of my cock jutted from its place beneath my pubic thatch, bridging the space between my crotch and my mother's perfectly. At the far end, it penetrated her: distended the glistening lips of her cunt, transfixed the hollow through which I had entered the world. Her legs, lifted and folded, and the waistbands of her panties and leggings, made a perfect frame for a perfect work of art -- a firm-fleshed sculpture of irresistible desire and completion.

Oh my god. Just look at that.

How much time passed, I don't know. Probably less than half a minute. But that sight -- my cock tucked into Mom's womanly opening, her labia tight and wet around my tip -- felt like it lasted forever.

When time finally started up again, I realized she was no longer rolling her hips -- when I looked, her head lay turned to one side again, eyes still closed. Her slow, deep breathing was loud enough to almost be a snore.

She's out, I thought with a flood of relief. Okay. She's totally under. Now pull out before you do something really crazy.

But I didn't.

Mom wasn't begging drunkenly any more, or trying to pull me deeper with her legs. But she had been doing those things like she really, really needed this.

And she felt so good.

So instead of pulling out, I pushed instead -- not far, just an inch, maybe an inch and a half. An inch of her flesh accepting me deeper, suckling me more sweetly.

I'm going to come in her.

It wasn't quite a decision -- more like an unexpected observation. A startling certainty. A course of action that I had known, really, would be inevitable from the moment my fingers tilted my erection down to trespass her most sacred place.

I'm going to fuck my mother and come in her.

My hands found the backs of her thighs, softly muscled within the stretch fabric of her yoga pants. Palms down, they skated along the sleek fabric to hook behind her knees, pressing forward and down so her pelvis rotated up and let me scoot in closer, her ass resting higher and heavier against my thighs. Another inch of my aroused, ravenous penis went in with that movement, fully lodging the leading half of my cock inside her.

God, she was so snug and slick.

"It's so beautiful, Mom," I breathed, just loud enough for myself to hear. Those three, probing motions -- insertion, exploration, and the willful advance to inhabit her -- met with absolutely no resistance. Her wetness parted and encompassed me, welcomed my intrusion with a satin embrace. The look of my dick, straight and swollen and plugged halfway into her nectarous sheath, had a rightness, a natural purity, that said, These pieces, mine and hers, were made to fit just like this.

I eased my hips further down and in, watching her cunt flawlessly devour me. The sensation of her dreamy, rich flesh around mine turned the whole world to treasure, a vault of golden delight worth any king's fortune and more. I could feel every texture inside her, swathed in slippery, warm honey, caressing each veined and rigid millimeter of my shaft as it glided home.

And then the gap between our crotches fully closed, and my root pressed flush with the mouth of her snatch, and my intimate possession of Mom's vagina reached its fullest, deepest extent.

I'm really doing this. I'm in her -- I'm about to have sex with my mom.

I looked at her face, still serenely tilted to one side, all lines of age softened by the dim light. She had always been the most beautiful woman in the world to me, but now, as she lay transfixed by my erection, the most beautiful lover I knew I would ever have.

I whispered the truth of that moment, unable to keep the words in: "I love you so much, Mom."

And then I started to fuck her.