Mother

This is a dark tale of maternal lust. I've always been less of a fan of romantic incest, and more of a fan of the darker side, the lust, the regret, people using each other for their own satisfaction. And if you've ever been part of an upper middle-class WASP family, you'll get the denial, the lies, the cover-ups. If Literotica can have brothers and sisters falling in love, why can't they have a few stories about Mother's bribing their sons to fuck them? Everyone depicted here is over the age of 18, but I will point out that there is heavy drug and alcohol use, so beware.

*

Mother

The rain splashed against my apartment window as I checked my phone for what seemed like the hundredth time. Seeing an empty screen I sighed and slid it into my back pocket. I looked back out the window over the Portland skyline and muttered a curse to myself.

I had expected a text from Janie almost an hour ago, but I didn't want to seem desperate. I'd been looking forward to hooking up with her all week and she hadn't made it any easier with her sly allusions to a debauchery filled weekend. Her family and mine had been friends for years. Attended the same high society functions, golfed at the same country clubs, and I'd bet our parents had the same coke dealers. She'd been dating the same boy since high school, and I'd always coveted her slim waist, perfect skin, and blue eyes. She'd let her blonde hair grow down to her ass since we graduated and her facebook pages had become the object of many a late night jerk off.

So when my sister had told me she'd broken off her engagement with her asshole of a fiance, I jumped at the chance. I immediately texted her, sending her fake platitudes and encouragement that she'd find 'the one' right around the corner. I think she knew it was bullshit, but that was all the better, we both knew what this was.

But she hadn't texted me. She was in town for a month, and said she'd love to see the city from my 30th floor place. It was pretty snazzy for a freshly graduated 23 year-old. Granted most of it was bankrolled by my father's firm, where I worked a cushy internship, but I liked to think of it as my own personal castle. I'd spent the entire morning cleaning it, knowing that if everything went well, it'd be destroyed by this time Sunday. A whole 48 hours of fucking.

But the bitch still hadn't texted me. My erection was straining my pants and I was going a little stir crazy, so I walked over to the bar and poured myself a drink. The bourbon warmed my throat going down, so I poured another. No more, though, needed to be clear-headed, and I wouldn't want to get whiskey dick later on. No, just something to set the mood.

That's when my buzzer rang. I rushed to my intercom and hit the door release button without thinking. Wasn't she supposed to text me? Did I already give her my address? I had a momentarily delirious idea that she had decided to start the games early, and would suddenly appear at my door in nothing but a coat.

How wrong I was.

As I heard the clack of heels approach my door, my phone chimed. Grabbing it quickly, my heart immediately sank.

"Hey hon, I just heard from my parents that you're taking care of your mom this weekend! Hope she's not too sick :( rain check for next weekend?" The text read.

Shitshitshitshitnonononono

Too late, the door opened.

My Mother stood there, her purse in one hand, a small bag in the other. She wore a black raincoat that covered most of her curvaceous, but still matronly body, though a small bit was open at the neck, teasing at the canyon of cleavage she always seemed to sport. Her red hair was tied back in a tight, librarian style bun, adding to her sternness. I stood there, almost not believing what I was seeing.

"Tyler Stanford, are you not going to invite your Mother in?" She said after a moment, her green eyes narrowing.

I silently stood aside, allowing her in. Her heels clicked and clacked as she walked inside, making her way into my kitchen where she set down her purse and the small bag, which made a thunk. She turned and smoothed out her coat, creating more of an hourglass silhouette.

"What are you doing here, mom?" I asked, annoyed.

She tisked my response. "That's no way to speak to your Mother. I came to keep you company, I haven't seen you in ages. I thought we'd have a drink." She pulled an expensive bottle of vodka out of the bag and set it on the counter. "Order some food, you know, catch up." Her smile, as usual, was a mask. Her cut cheeks, lightly painted with rouge, never crinkled like they would with a real smile. Her eyes, heavy with shadow, never sparkled. But this was normal, normal for us.

"I have plans tonight." Was all I said. Mom and I never 'hung out' never 'caught up'. If we spent any time together, it was usually her going on endlessly about the country club gossip, the ways she was spending my father's money while he was away on his many business trips, or...

She smiled, and it chilled me to the bone. "Oh, I know. Your sister told me you were seeing that Briar girl. What's her name?"

"Janie." I said through clenched teeth.

That smile again. My stomach began to turn cold. I turned away and went to the bar.

Behind me, I heard her say, "Yes, your sister told me you had plans with her. I told a little white lie to Brenda that I'd felt incredibly sick, and hoped I could pry you from her lovely daughter." I poured a drink and downed it. I turned to see her pouring some of the vodka in a glass. "Believe me, I'm saving you the trouble. That little girl is a harlot." She adopted a conspiratorial tone. "No one's talking about it, but rumor is she was caught doing something unspeakable with Tom's best friend, and that's why the marriage is off." This time the smile reached her eyes.

I suddenly felt a white hot anger. Unspeakable was my middle name! Mother had just blown my chances to totally fucking destroy one of the hottest girls I knew.

Turning away from me she opened the bottom drawer of my fridge. Bending over I saw her coat stretch over her prodigious ass. I heard the clink as she dropped several ice cubes into her drink. She turned and walked over to me, clinking my drink with her own.

"You're welcome." She took a long sip, never breaking eye contact with me. "You do seem to have a type, though."

She wasn't wrong. I was a good looking guy, cut in all the right places. My hair was brown, like my father's, unlike the shock of red hair she and my sister sported. I had a reputation with the ladies that had never escaped my Mother's attention. Slim, blonde, big tits, that was my preferred girl I liked to have squealing in my bed. But like every man, I wasn't picky, as long as they were down for some serious fucking. I'd been a dominant type in my everyday life as a teen, and that had spilled over into my blooming sexual life. It hadn't been unheard of for me to take advantage of dad's absence, and Mother's brunches with the socialites, to have some pretty thing over for sex that definitely boardered on the rougher side. Choke play, bdsm, hate fucking, roleplay; from an early age I had embraced the darker side of sex, and never seemed to get enough.

Mom knew this, of course. She was nothing if not nosey, and had caught me in the act several times. It got to the point where I wondered if she was doing it on purpose.

"God, Tyler, all those skanks. At least this one was easy enough to get rid of." She took another sip, and a small portion spilled out and fell into the pale canyon that was her cleavage. She saw my eyes wander and slowly wiped it away with one red fingernail. The flesh dented below it like the softest looking pillow. She grinned as she brought it to her equally red lips. "Be honest, you're happy I spared you having to actually make conversation with that moron."

"It wasn't 'conversation' that I was looking for." I said hotly, leaning in aggressively. I could smell her perfume... and something else. But I wanted her gone. The weight of the phone in my pocket beckoned me to reach for it and tell Janie everything was cool, our weekend of unbridled lust was still on.

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand at the involuntary gesture. She composed herself finally. "So unlike your father. You do so enjoy your playtime, regardless of how much work you put in." This was a ploy of hers, subtly pointing out how most of what I had wasn't bought with my own sweat and tears, but with my father's. I knew this game and refused to play it.

"What about dad? It's Friday, I assume you have some bullshit engagement with his partners." I brushed by her and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing ice for my own drink.

"You're father's in London for the weekend."

That one sentence turned my world upside down. I spun around, nearly spilling my drink, because I knew immediately what it meant.

"London?"

Mom leaned back against the bar, her massive tits jutting out in a way that made me both sick and aroused.

"With that slut, no doubt. The new model is Karen, Karina, Katelyn... " She blew a raspberry. "Something with a K." She started undoing the buttons of her raincoat, almost absentmindedly. "Anyways, he told me, before he left, to find something to occupy myself with." The final button detached and she reached for the zipper near the bottom of her bountiful tits.

"Mom..." I said, as she strode toward me, slowly unzipping the coat. I backed up until I felt the cold steel of the fridge stop me. First her cleavage became clearer, the small mole above her left areola sliding into view.

"Did you even realise..." She whispered, less than three feet from me. The rain seemed to grow louder outside, and for a split second the sky lit up. A demi bra quickly came into view, black with red lace ornamentation adorning it. It was almost like her tits were trying to push out, begging for air. "You've been hard since I walked through the door, young man?"

With a flourish, the zipper came all the way down. Suddenly she was exposed to me, my own Mother. A corset, matching the bra, straddled her midsection. Where the skin was shown, it seemed to pillow out, giving her a vibe of having been stuffed inside. But I knew that wasn't the case, her matronly frame was simply soft, as if she had no muscle to her. The trifecta was finished off with a similarly patterned pair of red panties, the top hidden by a slight belly roll that had escaped the bottom of her corset.

I looked down at the outline of my dick in my pants. It stretched down ten inches towards my left pant leg. I could almost see it pulse.

"No..." But Mother put a finger to my lips.

"Shhh, baby. It's okay. Mommy knows you need help. But I couldn't let that slut touch you, she's probably riddled with some awful disease." I felt her hands play with my buckle, slowly, but all I could do was stare at her gigantic tits. Pale as snow, laced with barely visible blue veins, and softer looking than anything. Mother leaned in, "Mommy needs help, too, you know."

The thunder finally cracked outside, and brought me back to my senses.

"No, mom, stop-" I blurted out, but I was silenced when Mother kissed me. Long and deep, her tongue slipped between my lips and tasted me. I brought my hands up in a vain attempt to push her away, but she seemed to melt against me. Behind closed eyes I saw a flash of lightning as I felt her finally undo my belt, her expert fingers unbuttoning my pants.

Breaking the kiss, Mother snaked her hand deeper, gripping my cock through my boxers.

"Christ, it seems you grow an inch every time I see you." In any other context that phrase wouldn't be out of the ordinary for a Mother to say to her son. But we were here, in my kitchen, my Mother in lingerie, grasping my swollen weapon.

My hand grabbed her arm and I stared daggers into her. "Mom, stop. We're not doing this again."

Mother's smile grew wider. "What? Are you going to hurt me if I don't?" There was a long pause, then she squeezed my cock tighter. "No... that'll come later... won't it?"

I could hear the sound of bargaining in my own voice. "Not now, okay? Please? Maybe next..."

Mom wrenched her arm from my grasp. Slowly she slid to her knees in front of me. I watched in horror and fascination as she pulled my pants and boxers down far enough to expose my cock. I flicked up, all ten inches, and nearly hit her in the chin. I saw her flinch as a string of precum flew across her mouth and cheek.

"Jesus, Tyler, just stop. You say this everytime we fuck." She said coolly. One red fingernail scrapped the precum off of her cheek and slipped the gooey lubricant into her waiting mouth. I could hear a rumble in her throat. Her small hands came up and gripped my cock, one on top of the other, leaving the purple head exposed.

"Please..." I croaked out, as she gently stroked me.

"You're so much bigger than your father." She groaned, not taking her emerald eyes off my dick. She finally looked up at me, her lust lidded eyes almost in a trance. "Just relax, honey, mommy's going to make it all better."

And with that, she took my head into her mouth. I grunted reflexively, and had to force myself not to grab the bun at the back of her head and force my cock down her throat. With Motherly care, she coated my cock in her warm saliva. Her red lips bobbed up and down half the length of me over and over again. I watched as the lipstick marks grew ever closer to the base, like some perverse depth meter.

"Gah..." I sputtered, watching her red hair float up and down my length. I watched the sick way she relished taking me in her mouth, the almost mercurial smile she grinned even as my girth forced her lips ever wider.

My hands gripped the sides of the fridge, knocking magnets and photos to the floor, as she assaulted me with her mouth. She almost took my whole dick in her mouth and coughed, causing her throat to contract and nearly driving me over the edge.

For a moment I felt like I was having an out of body experience. I could see myself in my kitchen, leaning back against the blue steel fridge, Mother kneeling before me, her wide ass spread as the back of her head pushed ever downwards, over and over again. I felt the heat of her throat as my cock was plunged even deeper.

I thought about Janie, the slim slut with the blonde hair and the perfect C cup tits. I had thought that by this time, she'd be the one on her knees, eagerly taking my load. I imagined her perfect ass, her perky breasts, her flat stomach.

I had so many plans for her. But here I was, getting a blowjob from Mother.

My anger rose, like a blinding heat, filling me with hatred and arousal. My hand found the bun at the back of Mother's head and I grabbed it savagely. She barely had time to react before I was forcing her down on my cock.

"Gulk! Ack!" She croaked.

"Shut the fuck up." I growled, looking down at the green eyes of my own Mother as she tried to breathe. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Her face turned crimson as I pulled her up and down my length, using her, like she intended to use me.

One hand snaked up and grabbed the front of my button down shirt, tugging on it frantically. I wasn't surprised to see the other wiggle between her legs, and massage her panty-covered pussy.

"Dad left you for the weekend, and you couldn't wait five seconds to come over and get some dick. You knew I had plans and you were so fucking jealous, that you had to ruin them." Her mascara was running as I pulled her off my cock, now profusely coated in her mucus. She inhaled deeply, gasping for air. I gripped her hair harder and forced her to look at me, her eyes running black like the harpy she was. "Stop me if I'm wrong." I spat in her face. She coughed, but immediately went back down, licking my balls and rubbing her face against the underside of my cock.

"You-" She started, but I was in control now. With my other hand I took hold of my dick and aimed it at her mouth as I forced her down on it.

"Shut up, Mother." I began to accept that this was my weekend now. Where before I had planned to bed another in a long line of hot bodied sluts, now I was resigned to the fact that Mother had to come first.

Well, not exactly first.

I looked down at her huge, pillowy tits as they shook back and forth with the movement of her head. I saw the small mole above her nipple shake, and I watched the black mascara run farther down her face as she struggled to take all of me. I hated her, but I loved the way she sucked my cock. My breathing grew frenetic, and I think she understood I was about to cum, because she hummed and groaned, the vibrations in her mouth pushing me over the edge.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" I grunted. I slammed her down as far as I could on my dick, desperately seeking release in the one mouth I should never. It felt like my dick grew another inch as my balls contracted and shot their first wad of cum down Mother's throat.

"Uck, Gack, Urk!" She violently twisted against my hands, but I held her still. More cum shot down her throat and I relished the fight she put up. My mind was white hot as I busted my nut and Mother took the opportunity to wrench herself free from my grasp. I saw her green eyes glare at me as the last jet of cum caught her in the face, landing across her nose.

She bent down to the floor and coughed, expelling several ounces of cum on the kitchen floor. She breathed deep, shuddering. She stayed that way for almost a minute, shaking and coughing. Finally she looked up at me, and I saw the lust hadn't dimmed in her eyes.

"That wasn't very gentlemanly." She spat, but her face spoke the truth, she fucking loved it. Cum dripped from the corner of her mouth, her son's cum, and even more painted her face, but she let it be for the moment.

Finally accepting my fate, I grabbed her by the hair again and lifted her to her feet. I brought her close, realizing with disgust that her running make up and cum spattered face were the hottest things I'd ever seen.

"If you wanted me to be a gentleman this weekend, Mother, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

Mother smiled, showing her teeth and the strands of cum connecting her lips. "Sweety, I never expect anything less."

So Mother and I are fuck buddies. I'll admit I'm the reluctant one of the pair, but as she constantly points out, I'm hard as a rock whenever she's around.

It started early. As I matured into the man I am, Mother never failed to praise my physique. When I was 18 and became quarterback of my high school football team, she started giving me "post game rub downs".

These were innocent enough at first. I think part of me liked the attention she was giving me, as I'd never received much more than a pat on the head when my report card came in. No, I was mostly raised by our maid Anna, a stout Puerto Rican woman who had nothing but love in her heart.

Had I ever busted a nut thinking about Mother? Sure, she did have the biggest tits I'd ever seen, and even given her matronly body, she wasn't shy to show it off. I'd see her in a skin tight dress that she was wearing for some party, or in a one piece by the pool, and the urge would just hit me. But these were fleeting, and I always felt a little awkward afterwards.

Like I said, the massages were nice. I began to even look forward to them after games, but made sure to always lay on my stomach, as to conceal my erections. Mother would oil me up, all the while complementing my growing body. Once or twice, as soon as we were done, I'd shower off the oils and tug one out. But these never were overtly sexual.

Well, until the summer before my freshman year in college.

I had decided to go to UC Berkeley, and my father had approved. Out of the blue one night, at dinner, as Anna was setting down plates of spicy enchiladas, Mother proposed something.