tagIncest/TabooMom Needs More

Mom Needs More


I didn't start thinking of my mom sexually until about a week before I graduated from college. I'd woken up late on a Saturday morning, and I actually wanted to sleep in a little longer; I was in the middle of a nice fantasy about getting my cock sucked by my French teacher, but I was interrupted by the sunlight piercing the half-open blinds.

When I got to the window, I looked out and saw my mother on the pool deck, laying on a lounge chair and wearing a bikini. Looking down from my room on the second story, I had a clear view of her body, but she was laying in such a direction that she wouldn't notice me. She was rubbing suntan lotion on her legs, slowly, and her patient movements gave me ample opportunity to take her body in. I spied her long, curving legs that rose up to full, flared hips; a trim stomach worked into shape in the two years since dad left; her rounded, full tits, so barely covered by the bikini's white triangles of fabric that I could see the tantalizing swell of their sides as she reached down to smear creamy white lotion on the inside of her thighs.

I knew mom was a fox, sure. My guy friends would notice whenever they came over and saw her in her usual around-the-house wear of Capri shorts and a low-cut tank top. (Even when she was clearly wearing a bra, her nipples always had a way of poking through, teasingly.) As one of my ex-girlfriends put it to me while we were still dating, "She looks so fuckable I'd get jealous if she wasn't, like, your mom." (Sure, she was shitfaced at a party when she said it, but a few Bud Lights will make a girl honest.) So, yeah, I knew that she was attractive, even "fuckable," but that was all abstracted in my head—I never felt physically turned on by her myself. My sexual attention was usually elsewhere—and, well, she was my mom.

But then, as I watched her from my window, she started doing something interesting.

She was rubbing lotion with her right hand on the inside of her thigh, and then her hand stopped for a moment. Then she brought it up slowly to the white patch of fabric covering her pussy, laying her hand on top of it. Her left hand was behind her head, which she swiveled left and right to see if anybody was watching her. Confident that the high fences of our backyard were giving her enough privacy, she slid her right hand under her bikini bottom.

Her back arched up slightly as she stroked her pussy, pushing her large tits up. Her ass started moving slightly on the lounge, finding a rhythm to match her slow stroking of her pussy. Her left hand came down, her fingers tracing a path through her hair and down her face to her lips. Sucking on her thumb, she began stroking her pussy more aggressively, her body swiveling on her ass more and more. Her tits began bouncing slightly, and her nipples began emerging, making the small bikini top even more irrelevant.

I was transfixed. And hard. Watching from the window, I pulled down my boxers and began stroking my cock, imagining how easy it would be for me to pull aside her bikini bottoms and slide into mom. In my mind, she was hardly my mom anymore, not the way she was sliding her fingers into her pussy and pulling on her very large nipples. She was pure sex in that moment, and I wanted it very, very badly.

"Oh, mom," I sighed, stroking my precum-oozing cock. "Suck me."

Almost as if she'd heard me from so far away, mom began licking her lips, her tongue sticking out slightly and firmly. She was rubbing her clit furiously now, clearly on the verge of cumming, and I was stroking myself to match the movements of her firm, round ass, and bouncing tits. From then on, I was gone—I wanted to fuck my mother.

Soon her body seized up, her back arched, her hands—one in her cunt, the other pulling a hard nipple—stopped. Her mouth was open, ecstatic. Her tits were free. Her eyes were shut tight. She was cumming, hard.

At that same moment cum sprayed from my cock, ropes and ropes of it hitting the wall beneath the window. I grunted hard, wishing so badly that my cock could have been in mom's pussy, her ass, her mouth, between her tits—somewhere, anywhere besides the uselessness of my bedroom. I lay down, panting a little, watching my cum trickle down the wall toward the floor as I stopped to catch my breath.

Getting up a moment later to find a sponge to clean up the mess I made, I dared to look out the window to see where mom was. I guess she'd abandoned her plan to get some tanning done; she was standing up and wrapping a towel around her hips; her tits were now solidly (if still provocatively) placed in her bikini top. She looked up and saw me at the window. Smiling, she waved. If only she knew that my cock was still half hard and that I'd blew a load in my room watching her fingerfuck herself!

I went to the bathroom across the hall, grabbed a wet washcloth, and wiped down the wall. Throwing the scum-soaked rag into a hamper, I got dressed quickly and casually headed downstairs to greet my mom. I badly wanted to get near her, wanting to see evidence of her masturbation session on her body—and get a closer look at her in the bikini.

"Hey, sugar," my mom said, walking into the kitchen and closing the door to the pool deck behind her. She walked up to me and gave me a peck on the cheek. I could feel one of her tits press ever so slightly against me, and I imagined I could smell the scent of wet pussy on her. It was all I could do to keep myself from grabbing her hips and pulling her close.

She looked at me quizzically.

"I *said*," she said, "do you have any big plans today? I swear, you finish your finals and your brain shuts down." She giggled slightly.

I must've been lost in thought. "Nothing major, mom. I'm gonna enjoy my last free weekend before the job starts."

She pulled a water bottle from the refrigerator, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig. "Well, your dowdy old mom needs to get some new clothes for summer. I think I'll be spending the afternoon at the mall shopping."

"What's wrong with what you have on now?" I asked, hoping it'd come off as playful.

She laughed and put the bottle on the counter. "Now *that* would be something," she said, tracing her hands lightly down the spaghetti straps of her bikini bra. My hands followed them to her tits and I had to force myself to pull my eyes up. "I'm sure Mr. Smith next door would love to see your mom in a bikini all the time, but I'm afraid it's a little impractical. So, around for dinner tonight?"

Yes, I was. And after another minute of small talk about the coming week, she went upstairs. In half an hour she had dressed (Capris and tank top) and headed out the door.

My cock was spent for the moment, but my curiosity wasn't. A barrier had fallen in terms of my attraction to my mother; feeling a little more daring, I decided to explore her bedroom. Before, I'd considered her space off-limits, but now I was eager for clues about her sexual life.

I'd been in enough women's bedrooms to know where to start looking. I remember one day when I was lying in bed with Mrs. Jackson down the block. She was the first woman I had sex with, back when I was 18, and the horny 40-year-old widow was eager to teach me everything she knew. That included where a horny 40-year-old widow kept her vibrator. "Here's where my little buddy is," she said, pulling the thin pink plastic toy from the bottom drawer of her nightstand.

The bottom drawer of mom's nightstand was her panty drawer. Pulling it open, I was greeted by piles of silky, neatly folded underwear. Digging deeper—carefully, so as not to leave evidence of my investigations—I uncovered three things:

1)A thick purple vibrator, at least ten inches long, modeled to look like a thick, vein-filled cock.

2)An assortment of gels and lubricants

3)A book

It was an old paperback, not very thick, titled "Mommy Needs More." The cover was a drawing of a woman wearing a provocatively open robe, walking in on (presumably) her son, who's laying in bed with his hard cock in his hand. I could feel my own cock thickening in my shorts, giddy with the sense that mom had been harboring incest fantasies.

I opened the book about a third of the way through and started reading.

"'Oh, sugar!' Julie exclaimed as she bounced up and down on Willy's cock in the back seat. 'We have to stop fucking like this! But your cock feels so thick and so good!'

"Grabbing her ass tighter, Willy started sucking her horny mother's full tits. He knew that what they were doing was dangerous. Everybody came up to Jones' Peak to park, make out, and fuck. But a lot of people knew Willy and his mother—including Willy's dad, who patrolled the park. The sense of danger gave Willy's mother an extra rush, though, which is exactly why she put on her tightest T-shirt and mini-skirt that afternoon and insist that he take her there. Now, with her skirt and shirt pulled up, she felt an electric rush run through her that was only enhanced by the feeling of her son's cock filling her cunt. In the past month she had become a complete slut for her son, and the need for more new and exciting ways to fuck consumed her being."

I read on, stroking my cock, which I'd freed from my shorts. Willy kept fucking his big-titted mom, and I lay down on my own mom's bed, thinking of my own mother bouncing on me—maybe right on this bed. It all became so much that I wound up blowing my load for the second time in an hour, all over my chest. As I lay on mom's bed and the cum dried on my shirt, I began thinking of a plan to make my fantasy become real.

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