Mom Needs More Ch. 03

Author's Note: It's been a while since I thought to update this story, but I've been inspired by the continuous positive feedback I've received in the two years since I posted chapter two. As somebody who doesn't write erotica in any professional way, it's been flattering and inspiring to know that the storyline has connected with so many readers. Many of you wanted to finally see the mom and son get together in this series, so this one's for you. Let me know what you think!



That evening I was more exhausted than I'd expected to be. Julie had left my cock feeling pleasantly sore and spent, so when mom came home a little while later I wasn't in an especially horny mood. She had come in a little tired herself from her day of shopping, almost comically weighed down by the number of bags from boutiques and department stores. "I was just *terrible* today," she said, laughing at herself a little. The rest of our evening together was uneventful; we had dinner, after which mom disappeared to take a bath and then headed off to bed.

But I was still processing everything I had learned about my mother's incest fantasies, as well as my experience fucking Julie's pussy for the first time. By midnight I was undressing for bed and remembered Julie's note with her phone number, with that provocative word "Mom" on it. I thought for a moment about whether I might call her. Would she enjoy phone sex? Did she get horny late at night just like I did?

I decided it was best not to go there for the moment, but I needed something to inspire me, now that I was growing increasingly horny. I could've fired up my computer and found a hot story to read or a video to watch, but then I remembered all the bags of things that mom had bought that day. I stepped out of my bedroom, wearing just my boxers, moving quietly to avoid waking up mom in the bedroom next to mine. I tiptoed downstairs to the living room, where the bags were.

For a horny guy like myself with fantasies of fucking his mother, her purchases were a treasure trove. Forcing myself not to rustle the bags too much made my feelings of anticipation all the more sweet. There were T-shirts, not particularly sexy in themselves, but I knew they were a little small for her, and I could imagine her full tits pressing against them, her nipples clearly visible. Most had no writing on them, but one was emblazoned with the word "Flirt" on it, right across the chest. Was she saving that for somebody, or would she dare wear it in public?

There were lacy panties and boy-shorts in virgin white, fuck-me red, and a light peach color that I imagined would look gorgeous set against her naked thighs. Some of the bras she bought were purely functional, wide-strapped and designed to provide her big tits with some much-needed support. But others seemed designed purely to arouse, with spaghetti straps or push-up designs that would thrust her tits up seductively. She had bought a pair of summery dresses that ran above the knees and exposed plenty of cleavage. There was a denim miniskirt. And there was a large shoebox containing a pair of black boots, with a thick three-inch heel and running up to her knees. I imagined they'd look sexy as hell with one of the dresses.

And tucked inside that shoebox was something more---a little wooden brown box.

I opened it slowly, as if it were something I wasn't supposed to see (well, I *was* snooping), and discovered what was obviously a pot pipe. Rounded glass, with a sizable bowl for the weed, mostly clear but with multicolored tendrils. The very shape of it felt erotic, but then weed was always a turn-on for me. I didn't smoke around the house, fearing mom would disapprove, but I usually had a few hits at parties. The thick marijuana smoke always seemed to go straight to my cock. I had only fucked once while stoned, with my ex-girlfriend Carol, but the experience made me hungry for more. Time slowed, and every touch felt electric. I loved the feeling of sliding into Carol's pussy, which felt even more silky and tight even with a condom on, and the pleasantly blessed-out look on her stoned face, her eyes slitted and a sweet smirk on her lips. It was one of the few times I'd ever cum simultaneously with somebody, and it was embarrassingly difficult to stop smiling after feeling so sated, so high and well-fucked.

I put the box inside the box, left everything just as I found it, tiptoed upstairs, went to bed. I stroked my cock, thinking, and fell asleep almost immediately after I came.

Mom was up before me the next morning, making breakfast. She was wearing an old pair of sweatpants but one of her new T-shirts, robin's egg blue, and it was clear she didn't have a bra on.

"Hi sugar," she said, smiling. "I'm sorry I was so worn out yesterday. Does mom get a hug?" She opened her arms wide.

"Well, of course," I said, smiling, and let her draw me in. The hug lingered. "Mmmmmm, you feel nice," she said. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then we parted, before my cock had a chance to rise dangerously close to her pussy.

As we ate, mom asked what I had planned today.

"Nothing much mom. Just thought I'd hang out at home."

"Don't you have any friends to see?"

"Not really. Everybody's gone on vacation with their families."

"Any new movies you want to go check out?"

"Nah. You know I don't like movies that much."

"Well, why don't you go for a bike ride in the park while I clean up around here?"

I smiled. "Mom, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."

She laughed a little, but the laugh died quick. She looked down at her plate and idly pushed her scrambled eggs around with her fork. "Honey, can I talk with you about something?"

"Anything, mom."

She sighed. "Well, you know how hard it's been for me since your dad left, and I appreciate all the love and attention that I get from you and my friends. It's just that....well, sometimes I want to cut loose a little bit, you know? I know that sometimes you come home a little drunk or a little high on pot..."

"Mom, I...."

"Shhh, honey. It's OK. I know you're a very responsible young man." She gave me a long, thoughtful look. "And sometimes I want to feel a little free like that too. I ran into a old coworker of mine the other day, and we were talking about this over lunch at the mall. And it's funny, she told me about how she likes to smoke when she's stressed. So I thought back to college and the good times I had."

"You used to smoke up, mom?"

A light smirk. "Oh, honey, there was lots I did. I'm not proud of all of it, but we're adults here. I guess I was going to want you to leave because I wanted a little time to take this pot Lynn gave me and use this pipe I bought and get nice and baked. But I didn't want you to judge me or think less of me."

The prospect of smoking with my mom was too tempting to resist; already my cock was pressing against my shorts. "I'd never think less of you, mom. And you know I smoke too. In fact, if you wanted to smoke together, I think that would be a fun."

Her eyes brightened. She bounced ever so slightly in her chair, making her tits bounce a little. "Would you? I was hoping you would say that, a little. Lynn said that weed these days is much stronger. I don't want to get too knocked on my ass."

"Your ass is firm, mom," I said, smiling. "I'm sure you'll be OK." I worried that maybe I'd moved the flirtation too far, but her smile set me at ease.

About ten minutes later we were sitting together on the couch in the basement, passing her new pipe back and forth. Lynn, whoever she was, had excellent weed; I had a great, full-body buzz going, and it was all I could do to keep my cock from tenting obviously in my jeans. I would have wound up with a thick hard-on regardless, given how potent the marijuana was, but I was especially excited watching mom next to me. Not only was her T-shirt temptingly tight over her tits, the weed seemed to make her movements catlike---she stretched and purred happily, sometimes grazing her body against me. She stretched her arms up over her head and back. When she saw me staring at her tits pressing out as she moved, she looked at me and giggled.

"Well, I can see where your head goes when you're stoned, young man."

"I must admit you paint a very pretty picture."

She put the pipe down and sidled just a little closer to me, her sweatpant-clad thigh pressing against my leg.

"Does all weed make me feel this way?" she cooed.

"I don't know," I said, chuckling a little at her absurd question. "How does it make you feel?"

She traced a hand slowly down her neck and chest, letting it rest just under her breasts. She looked at me and smiled. "I don't know if I should say it out loud." Her eyes were pretty and slitted. She looked happy and relaxed but serious.

"Maybe you should whisper it in my ear," I suggested, placing my hand on her thigh. "It'll be our little secret."

She leaned toward me and put a hand on my thigh. I could feel her hot breath against my ear. "Naughty." A pause, and she pressed her head against mine a little. "I feel....naughty."

I turned to face her. We looked at each other for what felt a long time, sending a silent agreement to each other that we would love each other no matter what happened next.

"Naughty how?" I asked. I kissed her full lips briefly and softly. "Kissing-your-son naughty?"

She brought her hands up to the sides of my face and kissed me again, a little longer, a little harder. "Yes, naughty in a way that makes me want to kiss my son."

I leaned in and we succumbed to a long, full French kiss. I felt the heat and wetness of her tongue, dancing with mine, and the beautiful crush of her breasts against me as we faced each other and kissed hard.

"Making out with your naughty son naughty?" I asked when we broke our kiss, finally.

"Oh, you're not naughty, sugar." She began planting small kisses on my neck, chanting, "You're not, you're not, you're not....Mommy is the naughty one. She's so horny. She wanted this so bad...."

I saw that her right hand had drifted under the elastic band of her sweatpants, and I could see

her hand move around and around. As she continued to kiss my neck and play with her pussy, I dared to slide a hand under her sweatpants as well. Almost immediately it was enveloped in warm and humid air. I felt the top of her thigh and ran it higher and higher. Her pussy was so soaked I could feel the wetness at the top of her thighs.

I moved my fingers closer to hers, now busily alternating between rubbing her clit and sliding in and out of her pussy. She kissed me harder, sucking my neck almost, as her fingers yielded and I began fingering her clit, running slow, stoned circles around it. She began fingerfucking herself and we clung closer to each other, now making out hungrily as her ass began to move more urgently, meeting my fingers in a fucking rhythm.

As she moved closer to her orgasm, she broke our kiss and looked at me. As she rode my fingers and hers, her eyes were a mix of horniness, intoxication, and astonishment. Her eyes closed and she let out a long squeal that then collapsed into a sigh. I felt her pussy shudder. I had helped my mom cum.

She rested against me for a long moment, her head buried in my shoulder, panting hard. We were clasping hands, both soaked in her pussy juices.

Then she moved to straddle me. My cock was still thick and pressing against my shorts, and I could feel it leaking precum as it pressed against the pussy I had just helped bring to orgasm. I reflexively brought my hands up to her tits, fondling them slowly, letting my thumbs press against her nipples through the fabric.

"Suck them," she sighed.

I did, right through the fabric, leaving two large wet circles around her nipples until she pulled the stop off. The warmth and heft of her tits were beautiful. I was beside myself with joy, knowing that I would have access to them so much more in the future.

"Again," she said, stoned but urgent. "Suck mommy's big tits."

I did, savoring each nipple, loving the soft feel and warmth of her massive tit flesh. Soon, though, she slowly slid down to the floor. On her knees she unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, pulled them down, and let my cock spring free. A few drips of precum hit her in the face as my cock bounced, and we both laughed.

"Mom, I...."

"Shhhhhhhh," she said. She leaned forward and took my cock in her mouth, taking a few testing sucks of my hardness. "No talking. Mommy says so."

"Yes mommy," I replied. I stretched out and spread my legs wide, letting my mother suck my cock in earnest. Strange how this very adult behavior had made me childlike in a way; I was back to wanting to do anything to please my mother.

Her wet warm saliva was heavenly, and I could hear her muttering with my cock in her mouth, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't bear to take me out of her mouth to talk. But eventually she did.

"You suck too," she said. "I want to see you taking a nice big hit off that pipe while mommy sucks you."

Somehow making mom cum had diminished my buzz, though not my horniness, so I didn't mind taking another hit or two. And there was definitely something erotic about watching her suck my cock as her big eyes looked up at me inhaling deeply. Her cocksucking was beautifully expert. She was drooling, practically slobbering over my cock, alternating between sucking my cock and pulling on it, fondling my balls and licking them. It was hard to tell where my precum ended and her saliva began, but I was enjoying every moment of it.

I'd been told not to talk, but my buzz erased my interest in following directions too closely. "How long have you wanted this, mommy?" I asked.

She sucked furiously on my cock, as if she hadn't heard, but then stopped. She took the pipe and lighter out of my hand, took a long hit herself, then smiled at me.

"Ever since I noticed you were snooping around mommy's naughty things," she said. "You really should be better at putting things back exactly the way you found them. And making sure you don't leave cum on the pages of mommy's stories."

"'Mommy Needs More,'" I said, smirking, recalling the story I'd discovered in her drawer that set me on this path in the first place.

"And more and more and more from now on," she said. And with that, she was back to sucking me, bobbing her head slowly but urgently. "More and more, sugar."

I probably should have told her that I was about to cum, but I'd sensed that she wanted all of my cum in her mouth. And when she sucked my cock ever more greedily as I spurted and spasmed into that hot, warm wetness, so much of it that some dribbled over her lips and onto her big tits, I knew I needn't have said a thing. What I wanted was the same thing as what she wanted.