Kendo's Video

The first stroke, I kept small and gentle -- just a slight pull back with my hips and then a bump back forward against her. Her pussy took it gorgeously, brushing the whole surface of my cock with joy. Then I did it again, a little harder. And again. The pleasure was intense; I had to moan. But I managed to keep it pretty quiet.

"Uhhh ..."

With each thrust, my movements grew surer, stronger.

"Uhhhh, Mom ..."

My hands left the backs of her knees and found her breasts as I rocked against her, into her. Within the fabric of her shirt and bra, they surged in time with my thrusts, their pillowy swells as perfect to my touch as I'd always imagined.

"Mom, your tits ... ohhh ..."

Bent over her there, pumping with my hips, feeling her up as I gave her stroke after stroke of my love, I didn't think about what would happen if she woke up. I didn't wonder if she'd really meant it, telling the camera that anyone who wanted could bang her in her sleep. I just reveled in the feel and the touch of her, overwhelmed by the clutch of her pussy and the tenderness of her rolling breasts and the smell of sex drifting up from the spot where she took me in, over and over.

"Mommy, it's so good ... ah ..."

In the quiet of the night, I listened to our breathing, and the creak of the couch beneath us, and the liquid sounds of her cunt receiving my lust. She felt so much better than Kerry ever had -- I'm not sure why. It wasn't because we'd always used condoms -- maybe just that Kerry insisted on making fake porn-star noises whenever we fucked. Or maybe just that Kerry never relaxed during sex. She was constantly grinding and writhing.

Or maybe just because Kerry had turned out to be kind of a bitch, and Mom was the most wonderful person in the world.

How was it that Mom's dickhead boyfriend Jack could have had what I was having, felt what I was feeling, looked down at the sights I was seeing, and not thought he was the luckiest guy on Earth? I powered into her harder, in long, sweeping strokes that revealed almost my whole cock as I pulled back, then buried me to the hilt as I pushed in.

I would treat you so much better, Mom, I thought, shoving deep with a blissful physical promise. "Nnnf!"

Looming over her, plunging into her, I imagined her awake for this, smiling up at me, rocking her hips in time with my movements. God, yes, Mom. So good! Are you close? Am I going to make you come? I moved my hands from her breasts to her waist, taking hold to pull her more firmly to me with each glide of my prick through her slippery hollow. I'd be in you like this every night, fucking you until you screamed. And not a stupid Kerry bad-actress porn scream. A grown woman driven to such a height of ecstasy that her body had to cry out at the tremors shooting through her from my lovemaking.

"Uhh ... Uhhhh, Mommm!"

The slickness of her cunt sent waves of pleasure along the dripping, rigid piston I pumped her with. My shirt was getting soaked with sweat, so I rose up from gripping her hips to peel it off and then found myself nakedly thrusting into my unconscious lover. A little squeak escaped my throat.

"ooh! Hhhn ... ah ... oh Mommy ..."

I bent low and pushed her shirt up along her ribs, over the curves of her bust. Her bra had a catch in the front, and my shaking hands somehow got it open as my hips kept driving at her, plunging that beam of pleasure into her. The cups sprung free of her tits -- I quickly pushed the bra's halves aside and saw her unclothed breasts for the first time since infancy. They had nipples the size of my littlest pinky joint, pointing upward, firm and engorged. Dainty round areolas encircled them, pale and fine in the dim light. I lowered my mouth to one and suckled, still going at her in a heated rhythm of carnality.

"Mmmnlllhhh," I groaned around that lovely little nub of flesh. "Mmf, Mom, your cunt ..."

All care and caution had disappeared from me. I lowered myself fully against her, my sweat-slick belly against hers, my chest to the pillowy softness of her breasts, my lips kissing their way along her throat to the corner of her jaw and then her earlobe. Probing her depths with sensual urgency, I panted and gasped right into her ear.

"Hhhhh ... hhh ... uhhh ... mommy ..."

She remained absolutely still, breath rising and falling gently as I humped my passion up into her.

And then, very faintly, one breath gave out a hint of voice as it left her.

"-ah-"

I stopped.

Her neck shifted by the tiniest fraction. I lifted up and back, so that my racing heart didn't make a drumbeat against her belly.

"Ahhh," she sighed. Her hips started to move, and her legs clutched at me. "Uh-huhhh ... thassit ..."

Oh, god.

I let my head fall down and rest at her neck and shoulder again. Had her eyes opened? Had she seen my face? In the dim light, could she even recognize me, as drunk as she was?

Did it matter?

The fact was, even as her mumbles and movements scared me stock-still, what she was doing couldn't be missed.

She was doing her best to fuck me.

The muscles of her back and belly went through an unsteady, cycling rhythm, moving her wet sheath around me, seeking my root and grinding her clit to it. Her arms came up and draped her hands across my back.

"Dooo me," she pleaded. "Uhhhh ... push ... baby ..."

I gave in and did what she asked, plunging down hard and deep. My cock felt as stiff inside her as it had ever been, swathed in her plush interior. As soon as I started doing all the work, she fell still again and lay there, gorgeous and inert, a goddess I had worshipped my whole life who now moaned and sighed within my grasp.

"Yesss ... ohhhhh ..."

"Mm-hmmh!" I said, thrusting hard and turning my head to put my lips to her ear. As I pumped her, I whispered, "It's good, isn't it, M ... Mrs. Heath? You like this?"

"Gnhh -- ah ... yuh-huh, like your cockhh ... goodgoodgood cock ... buh I wan'..."

"Uh-huh," I said, banging harder at her encouragement. "What ... do you want?"

"I wan'shya ... pretennabe ... Adam. Uhhhh, fuck, cock, ohh ... please, c'you pretenn?"

Her words simultaneously electrified and paralyzed me. Oh my god, she wants me. Or at least wants someone to play make believe with her. "Um ..."

"Jushay mommy. Say mommy an cum im me ..."

Mom, I really want to come in you. I really, really do. Please don't sober up enough to know it's really me.

"No, don'stop," she said, patting or maybe trying to pull at my back. "Be Adam f'r me, say mommy, fuck your mommy ..."

"Yes, Mom," I whispered, gently moving with her.

We're doing it. We're really having sex. Not just me, not just her responding to a cock being in her -- us.

The thought gave me a jolt that shot down my spine and made my hips lurch into motion. Almost of its own volition, my cock pumped in and out of her three times -- convulsive and uneven thrusts, each to a different depth, the last one thumping my pubic bone hard against her clit.

"Oh, fuck, Mom, that's so good --"

I gripped her waist again and took control of my plunging spasms, turning them into a sure and fierce rhythm. "Uh, uh, uh -- ah!"

Her pussy took me in and shook my world, kept my dick swimming in pleasure as I worked her. Each potent drive of my crotch rocked her entire body. I could no longer tell if her muscles controled any of her movements, but it didn't matter. We were fucking, the two of us, together, joined in a frantic, incestuous mating, bound together by penetration and envelopment, by my joy and love for her. Yes, Mom, yes!

I lay down atop her again, kissing at her mouth as I humped into her. Her lips responded with tiny, aimless movements.

"Uhhhh, Mom!"

Sweat soaked my body, put a slick sheet between us wherever our flesh touched.

"Mom!"

My arms went around and under her, clutching her tight while I thrust and thrust. The wetness of her, the heat of her around my cock made me delirious. I lunged and stroked and groaned, my mouth trailing kisses across her face and neck. I felt her nails clutch into my back.

"ooh! Ooh, Mommy, I'm getting close --"

A fire of orgasm sparked and swelled in the glands at the base of my pelvis.

"...oh ..."

Hotter and hotter with every plunge I took into her, my climax roared and loomed toward us both. Unwavering in its gliding, sliding purpose, the beam of my hard-on probed for that moment of perfect linkage, engorging and stiffening even further in anticipation. My chest drew in great, ragged breaths of skyrocketing passion.

"Yes, Mom, yes -- I'm going to come -- I'm going to come in you -- UHHH!!!"

The universe surged through me from my brain down my spine and then gouted out of my erection as a fountain of utter bliss. Twitching and groaning, I ejaculated vast, searing loads of my seed up Mom's cunt, filling the place I had gestated with juddering blasts of pure and ecstatic insemination.

"Ah! Nng! Ooh -- ooh, Mommy, I'm coming in you! I'm coming up in your belly --"

Throbs of potent completion tremored through my flesh and soul, impelled by the spouting mastery of my cock as it disgorged the contents of my balls in waves so gargantuan, their creamy white peaks surely reached the moon.

"Ah --"

My spurts diminished and subsided. The cosmos receded from my overwhelmed brain and left me panting in the quiet night as the last few expulsions of climax dribbled out of me into my mother's receptive vagina.

"Ohh ..."

Cooling atop her, I felt the peaceful rise and fall of Mom's breaths.

"...uhhhhh..."

And then, when I looked down to see if her eyes had come open and she understood what was happening -- I realized she was snoring. I gave about half a laugh, but she looked so beautiful lying there that it turned into a sigh of wonder.

I might have expected, finding myself atop her with my penis still softening in her cunt, to feel a rush of horror and guilt. But I didn't. Where I rested now, covering and conjoined with the woman who had borne me, blanketed my very being with fulfillment. The warmth of her body beneath mine -- surrounding my sated manhood -- left me cozy and content.

I moved my lips to her ear and whispered, "Thank you, Mom," with the greatest sincerity my spirit had even known.

Half an hour later, I made love to her again, gentler and more briefly, ending with a tender, pulsing climax and a whimper of consummation.

Then I climbed off her, my cock slipping out in loose satiation, and I wrestled her panties and leggings mostly back into place, refastened her bra, and tugged down her shirt until it once again covered the belly I had just filled with my worshipful ejaculate.

I kissed her softly on the lips and whispered goodnight and I love you before leaving for my room.

###

The next morning, I woke up smelling like sex.

As soon as I threw aside the covers, my nose filled with the scent of Mom's pussy, my own spunk, and the combined musk of our crotches, as if they'd been steeping together in my underwear the whole night. I sat up and shifted my legs over the side of the bed, then bent low over my lap and breathed in. Jesus Christ, I really fucked her last night.

Even without the smell as evidence, I wouldn't have questioned whether I'd dreamed it. The certainty of living in a post-sex-with-my-mother reality filled my brain as firmly as the hard-on that instantly swelled my shorts in response. I should have started freaking out, panicking, choking for breath against the suffocating grip of guilt -- but the visceral wonder of those overnight memories blocked everything else out. The feel of her came back to me, the glorious action of my hips and body as I'd knelt there and plunged into paradise between her legs -- the orgasmic quake of soul-expanding love when my balls had let loose and pumped their hot, white joy out into her belly. The soft sighs of her contentment when I'd given in and done what she begged me to do.

Any horror or anxiety or regret I might have expected to feel disintegrated before my sense of ... wholeness at those remembered images and sensations. I'm so fucked if she realized it was me and remembers. But she doesn't. I just know she doesn't.

And I genuinely felt that. Yes, I'd gotten pretty loud, saying her name and humping her with everything I had in me. But she'd fallen back asleep twice while I was doing it.

Is she up yet?

My chest tightened and squeezed the breath from itself at that thought. Everything was different now. If I went out there unprepared and found her cooking breakfast or just hauling herself up from the couch, it would show all over my face. She'd know something weird was up. She'd ...

Oh, shit, even if she doesn't remember my face or my voice, one look at my expression and she'll know it was me. I've got to get myself under control.

I looked down at my lap.

And I've definitely got to get rid of this boner.

I stood up and went to my door and put my ear to it, to see if I could hear her moving around out there. The sun was up, I could see that through my window shades. What time is it? The clock by my bed said almost 9:00 a.m.

The phone by my clock said, Time to watch that video again.

Even holding my breath and pressing the side of my head right to the door, I heard nothing from the rest of the house.

I glanced at my phone again, pulse and breathing kicking up a notch.

Then I thought, What if she's still passed out on the couch? What if she drank so much, she's really not okay? Am I really going to watch her sucking the guys' cocks while I whack off without even checking on her?

That managed to break the spell. Worrying about her even put a little slack in my erection.

I can't go out there in this underwear, though. Aside from the briefs' complete inability to conceal a hard-on, and aside from the fact that they reeked of sex sweat and her cunt juice, walking around in just my skivvies wasn't any kind of normal behavior for me. I stripped them off and headed for the closet, meaning to toss them in my laundry hamper and get some of my looser jeans. Then I stopped and thought, Are you crazy? You're just going to wash this smell out of them? No, that wouldn't do. I went to my dresser, stuck them in the back of a drawer, and got some new ones to put on in their place. That done, I went for the jeans and tugged them on. For good measure, I got an oversized t-shirt and left it untucked where it would hang down and at least partly cover my crotch.

When I opened my door, the house still sounded quiet ... but as I walked down the hall, I thought I could hear the sound of Mom's shower running. I took a couple steps past my bathroom door and the game-room, close enough to her door at the end of the hall to confirm that the shower was definitely on in the master suite.

Okay, good. Sounds like she's fine.

But knowing she was up and about clicked a different switch in me, and I felt this intense craving to see her, to be around her. Partly, I wanted to assure myself that she hadn't woken up, found a bunch of cum dripping out of her pussy, and been emotionally traumatized by it. Partly, I wanted to see if she'd woken up, found a bunch of cum dripping out of her pussy, and had a spring put in her step by her fantasy's fulfillment. Mostly, though, I just wanted to be near her. Have her smile at me, maybe make her laugh. She had such an amazing laugh, lively and almost musical and always the perfect volume -- usually just a couple of decibels short of being too loud, but sometimes quiet and caressing to my ears.

I could make her breakfast, I thought. Except that I still had about three-quarters of a boner, and I knew I could use a shower myself. I don't want to compete with her for hot water, though. But duh, two birds with one stone, stupid. Take a cold shower.

So I did, with the water almost cold enough to make my teeth chatter. It was a jump-in, pits-and-bits shower, quick enough that when I'd finished toweling off my chill-shocked skin and gotten dressed again, Mom's shower could still be heard from beyond her bedroom door as I passed it.

Oh shit. It's a mess out here.

The living room hadn't been cleaned up from the party yet. Funny, I wonder what could have distracted me from that.

I spent a quick few minutes putting on a pot of coffee and loading up a trash bag from the kitchen with empty soda cans, paper plates, and disposable cups. Thankfully, nobody had left any major spills, although the surface of the kitchen table had some sticky spots from people pouring soda out of the 2- and 3-liter bottles. None of those had more than a swallow or two left in them, so I shoved them all into the trash bag and then added the mostly empty chip bags on top. The trash bag then went in the laundry room while I moved all the furniture back into place from where we'd pushed it against the walls to make a dance space the night before.

Somewhere in all this, the sound of a hair dryer had replaced the shower.

Maybe I can still get some pancakes going now that most of the mess is done.

When Mom came in, wearing a blue tank-top and loose sweat pants, I had the griddle on and was stirring up the batter, but hadn't gotten any farther than that.

She went straight to the coffee and didn't really look at me.

Oh no. Oh shit.

"Uh ... hey, Mom."

She groaned and put a hand to her head as she took a cup down from the cabinet above the coffeemaker. "Shh, not so loud, honey. Ugh."

Right, I thought, feeling blissfully relieved and then feeling bad about feeling relieved, since she obviously had a major headache. Of course she's hung over.

"Sorry," I said in the quietest voice I could manage and still be heard. I lifted the batter bowl toward her as she poured her coffee. "Do you want pancakes?"

"Sure." Her reply came out low and a little hoarse as she shuffled over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. I poured six dollops of batter on the griddle, glancing her way between each one. She didn't even lift her cup right away, just leaned her elbows on the table with her face in her hands.

Uh-oh. What if she's not just hung over?

The pale, lumpy circles of the pancakes steamed and hissed some as I waited for them to break out in little bubbles.

"Mom? You okay?"

"What?" She looked up. Dark hollows under her eyes made her look like she'd gotten no sleep at all, as opposed to spending the last ten or twelve hours unconscious. "Oh. Uh. No, I'm ... it's fine, I just ..."

She seemed to run out of the energy needed to finish the sentence and propped her head back on one hand, eyes closing. The pancakes were bubbling, so I flipped them.

Damn it, what do I even say?

"Is it ... uh, breaking up with Jack?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes, then winced and squeezed them shut again. "Ow."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize, honey. It's not you and it's not breaking up with Jack. That was a goddamn long time coming. No, I ..."

The weight in her voice, almost like dread, made me want to go over and put a hand on her shoulder, try to make whatever was wrong better -- even though I was starting to guess that what was wrong was completely my fault. I'd be a creep to go over there and try to comfort her. And I'd burn these fucking pancakes.

But then she took a deep breath and looked over at me with an anxious, honest expression and said, "I think I did something really bad last night."