Mother in Exile

She'd heard the strain of his grunting breath while his bulging arms glistened and pumped hard and fast against the heft of his barbells. She wondered if the strain of lifting weights while his cock grew hard and ravenous had made him dizzy. A soft, low growl curled through her lips like a wisp of smoke. Her fingers, clustered and slightly curled, mashed increasingly desperate circles against the pliant lips of her pussy. Every unforgiving degree of the day's humid punishment felt like it was gathering in that soft pocket between her thighs.

"Ffffffuck," she hissed as one of her fingers ground upward into the dripping void between the billowing lips of her slit.

As her finger stirred the broiling nectar deep inside the darkness of her sheath, she ripped away the strip of fabric over her left breast and clutched at herself, listening again to the huffing grunts of breath she'd heard from her son just moments ago. The waves of cool out of the open refrigerator only highlighted the feeling of heat rising off the tight knots of her mahogany nipples.

A second finger slipped in beside the first. There was a swift, rabid pumping -- a sudden flurry of desperately unrestrained finger-fucking as she yowled softly and ripped at the flesh of her heaving tit with her left hand.

Just as suddenly, she let go of herself and opened her eyes. She focused on the coolness lightly washing over her skin as she struggled against the spinning sensation in her head.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she brought the fingers of her right hand to her lips and tasted her own tang. Her eyes closed again. She was luxurious and sweet, and as she sucked her own flavor off her fingers, she brought the sight of his straining cock back to her mind. It should have been his precum on her lips now -- the same texture, but the taste of a rippling young man caught in the grip of his own mother-lust.

She was wasting away in a beautiful nowhere, and Adonis had come down to remind her what she was made of after all the others had failed.

Miranda reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a plastic bottle of water. She twisted the cap and drank, feeling the cool liquid flow into her body. She had the sensation of being cool inside and cool on the surface, but everything in between was burning up like a wild brushfire.

She angled the bottle over the proud jut of her exposed breasts and let water trickle over the swells. Her left hand moved over the heavy flesh, relishing the feel of her smooth, wet skin. She was about to do it again, but something made her stop. She put the water bottle back inside the refrigerator, and with a smile curling her full lips, she picked up a small carton of milk.

When she opened the carton and let the milk drip over the prodigious contours of her body, a sensation of luxury came over her. There was something luscious and obscene about the cool rivulets of white running over her dark skin. Her free hand roamed across her shape as she let the milk drip over her in a steady flow. Her thumb moved over her swollen nipples, her hand pausing to cup and squeeze each breast as the milk flowed like a river of David's cum.

Miranda shoved her left hand down inside her thong, cupping her smooth pussy, but leaving a gap to let the running milk pool between her palm and mound. There was something different in the texture and scent of the milk. As it dribbled and flowed around the finger grinding her clit, she uttered another yowl, not quite as softly as before.

The carton finally emptied, milk running down over her pussy and thighs onto the kitchen floor. Fuck the mess. Fuck the world. She kicked off her sandals to feel the mess of it against her bare feet as she flung the empty carton on the floor.

If her husband had been there, he wouldn't have leapt to his feet to consume her in a spontaneous combustion of lust and desire. She could see him in her mind, sitting incredulous at the table, gaping in disbelief. He would say something so utterly clueless as to not be worth saying. Something that would only make her feel like a servant as he ordered her to wipe up the spill and come to her senses.

Miranda slammed the refrigerator shut, feeling continuous waves of need course through her body as she thought of her son. Now she knew there were certain women in this world who could only truly belong to a man so special that they had to bring them to life themselves. And she was one.

She untied the useless top of her bikini and dropped it into the spilled milk on the floor. She left it lying beside the empty carton and went to the kitchen window to see if he was still outside. Her bare feet were wet with milk.

"Oh...oh...fffffuck," she said aloud, half in a moan as she looked out to see David, still there, the rigid spine of his excited cock even bigger, the hard shape even more pronounced against the tight stretch of his shorts than before.

"Que pollo," she purred, gnawing her supple bottom lip as she watched his hand drift over his imposing bulge.

When he turned to face the house head on and shoved his shorts down to the grass, letting the naked shaft of his magnificent cock spring free, Miranda gasped in surprise.

She grasped the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white, her pussy broiling with waves of fluid heat as she watched David kneel in the grass. He was facing her house in a way that made her feel he was openly facing her - taunting her -- egging her on with his outrageous excitement. His knees were spread wide, letting his fully laden ball sac nestle between his powerful thighs. Then he leaned backward onto his left hand while the right curled into a firm grip around his prominent shaft.

He was stout and long, with a richly flared head, as if the size and shape of his proud cock had somehow been made to match his ripped body. He gave the impression full blown hardness was his natural state. The flashing shimmer of sunlight along his stalk, along with the slick, corkscrew glide of his tight hand, betrayed the steady ooze of precum Miranda had only imagined. But it was so clear and obvious now, even from the window above her kitchen sink.

Her tongue rolled a moist circle around her parted lips while her heart slammed and a low, groaning sigh sifted out. She gripped each of her aching nipples, twisting them hard. Her pussy flushed and seeped until the gusset of her thong felt tacky and pasted to the squeezed shape of her maw.

"Such a nowty boy," she crooned in the rich music of her Caribbean-Spanish accent. "Nasty boy! Mami's big, horny man, flaunting that big, delicious cock."

Her fingers clamped harder on her pulsing nipples as she pulled and twisted them. David's lips were drawn back into a desperate grimace, but as his mother watched them draw tight, she couldn't stop feeling them in her mind, ravenously sucking the rigid tips of her heavy breasts, traveling across her skin in moist, scuttling nips as he sought to devour her body.

His fist was moving faster, pumping harder along the jutting length of his rock-hard stalk. His hips were making a little see-saw rocking motion as he fucked back at his pummeling hand.

Her right hand released the nipple in its unforgiving grip and slid to her pussy. Pushing her thong aside, she widened her stance, giving her fingers room to explore her slick, fluttering petals. When her wet tongue pushed outward to trace the circle of her mouth once more, she imagined the sensation of David gripping his shank as he rubbed his precum over her lips. She imagined him painting them slick and clear with the bursting tip of his cock while her tongue flashed out like a serpent to curl around his frothing dome.

"Ayyyy, fuck," she growled. Feline. Feral. Driven by the power of her own unquenchable life-force. Taking flight on the rising waves of heat emanating through her pores.

Searching fingers ground along her lips, pushing forcefully into her sheath -- pumping, stirring -- creamy fuck-scrape of her fingers into her core. Her left hand began to feel spastic as she slapped her own quaking breast before she could think about what she was doing.

David's spine arched. His head reared backward and the force of his pounding fist on his shaft was jostling the heavy sac between his thighs. He was going completely to waste without her touch. She was going to waste without his.

Miranda began to wish she'd never come inside. For a moment, she even thought about marching back outside, despite the delirious state she was in. She knew if she did there would be no avoiding the wet collision of a soul shattering fuck. He needed her to show him where his cock belonged in a way neither one of them would ever forget.

His lips parted on a groan she couldn't hear. The sight of his mouth opening wide made her want to shove him to the grass and silence him with her lathered slit. She wanted to show him how much stronger she was, and the way the lust he fired in her blood made her rise and spin like a sudden storm.

She could laugh in his face, taunting him with how easy it was to turn his unsuspecting head in tight shorts or a low-cut top. To think her thong clad gardening act had brought him to this made her want to erupt with laughter, but her body was vibrating to the very core of every cell as she thought of the shy, smoldering lust in his eyes every time they said hello. The way he would always hesitate awkwardly before walking away, as if he were always wishing there was something more to say.

Her husband's entire existence disseminated in a puff of vapor. Her prison warden. The man who kept her in sterling plated chains, treating her as the forgotten wife he'd never had the guts to love as she deserved.

Miranda's lustful heart would explode in wet rebellion before she took one more step down that path to such a careless man's oblivion.

As she watched David's cock stand in proud defiance, she knew the fates were smiling down on them, patiently awaiting these silly mortals to catch up with the plan.

Miranda's left hand finally clenched into a fist, making a slow-motion pound against the edge of the sink while the fingers of her right mauled her distended sex lips. Her breath came in sharp, panting jolts, her fingers pumping and drumming as they couldn't seem to decide whether to plumb her sheath or ravage her aching clit.

"Eres mio, motherfucker," she growled, watching the sweat-dripping interplay of David's musculature.

Nothing mattered but the discovery of how he would feel plunging inside her. Or how his ravenous body would lunge against her, thrusting hard and deep as if both their lives depended on each and every one.

They were nothing but lonely animals dropped on the Earth by calculating angels. It was their duty to fuck and live.

Miranda's fingers pumped through the gap between her yielding pussy lips until there could never be enough sensation to feed the hunger in her cells. She suddenly yanked open the drawer beside the sink so hard utensils jerked out and clattered on the floor. She gripped the metal end of the rasp for sharpening her knives, tearing her eyes away from David only long enough to size up the hard, black plastic handle of the sharpener.

Fuck it. It would do.

Holding her thong aside with the left, she brought the rasp handle between her thighs with her right, pushing it through the soft resistance of her pussy lips. It was neither as long nor as thick as her son's beautiful cock, but it was hard and unyielding, and it would do the job she needed right now.

She pumped herself hard and fast, watching David's fist fly and pummel the stone flesh in his grip. His hand was big and powerful. The speed and force of his jack-pumps were a testament to the granite resilience of his cock as it withstood his unrelenting strokes. The plastic handle pumping and grinding into her body's oozing pocket was just enough to let her mind fill in the blanks of her imagination as she conjured the sensation of that perfect manflesh pounding like rush hour through the center of her life.

Then David's hard, flowing body arched, and his cock erupted in a spraying shower of cum.

"Ay, bebe, fuck!" she cried, mashing circles around her clit with her left hand as she pounded the handle into his pussy faster and harder. "Give Mami that cum!"

Then Miranda lost her voice to the hard pull of gasping breath. Everything inside her felt hard and tense while her pliant tits quivered to the swirling tremors spiraling through her body. David's body went hard with stark definition as his fist pumped a furious geyser of spunk.

Miranda's left hand shot to her clit while she pumped the plastic handle into her core. As the wave of her first release began to ebb, the swell of the next rose up to rush over and beyond it. She needed David to feel her now more than ever, to know he was no more alone than she.

Finally, everything changed. The tension in every sinew of her body transformed into a euphoric warmth. She eased the rasp handle out of her body's grasp and dropped it in the sink. She steadied herself with her hands on the edge. Her knees were drained of strength as she gazed out the window and watched David sit back dazed.

How much could they really ever be to each other, she wondered, watching the flex of his spherical ass cheeks as he slowly stood up and walked toward the edge of the lake. In a couple of months he would move on and become a star athlete at the university his father had chosen. Yet for the next eight weeks, he would train his body and mind right here in the seclusion of the quiet country road they lived on.

After today, they would never be able to look at each other the same way. She could never allow him to leave at the end of the summer without giving him something he'd remember the rest of his life.

She sighed wistfully, thinking only of her beautiful son. Then she slid her thong off, leaving it on the cluttered, milk-spattered kitchen floor and walked upstairs to refresh herself with a shower.

***

Miranda let the tepid spray cascade over her body as she closed her eyes and held her face under the showerhead. Her heartbeat still wasn't quite back to normal, and her mind would probably never feel normal again. She probably should have been feeling remorseful by now, but she didn't. If anything, she only loved him more, if that were even possible. She wanted him more. Needed him more. Instead of calming her nerves, the orgasm she'd had at the kitchen window only seemed to make every cell in her body cry out for David's touch.

The events of the past hour played in her mind like a movie on a screen about someone else's life. On one hand, it all seemed pretty simple. On the other, it was too far beyond reality to comprehend. There were those first, torturous moments in her bedroom as she tried on the bikini she'd chosen to grab her son's attention, to make him see her as something else, something new. To make him see who she truly was. She lost count of the number of times she came to her senses and changed her mind, even as she was walking down the stairs and through the house to the back door. How long had she stood there with her hand on the door knob? A minute? Two? An hour?

What would he think of her now? What was she thinking of herself? Did he have to be so ... beautiful ... so ... big and so hard?

Miranda slid a hand between her thighs, dragging her finger along the length of her slit. She was still so fucking wet. Clasping a full, heavy breast in one hand, she rolled the swollen nipple in her fingers while massaging her aching clit while she remembered every detail of his naked body, every desperate stroke of his strong hand along his powerful looking cock.

She slid a finger inside her pussy, letting it slip deep, stroking in and out several times before adding the second. Her fingers slipped steadily, increasing the speed of her thrusts. She was gone, spiraling down the rabbit hole of her own, unspeakable lust for her son. But what woman could see what she'd seen and not feel completely changed? She had watched him grow out of his mind with need for her and then cum like a fountain out in the bright light of day. He had to know she could see him. He'd wanted her to see what a man he was now, and everything he could give her.

She didn't know how it could be any other way. And just as she imagined feeling him grasp her body and shove his solid cock deep inside her, she opened her mouth to call out his name, but the voice she heard next was not her own.

"Mom." Then there was the sound of enclosure door sliding open.

"Wha-?"

He was standing in the enclosure doorway, holding it open, naked as she was, with that imposing cock every bit as ripe and hard as it was in the yard. The water continued to stream over her as she lifted her gaze to his eyes. They were like burning coals as he openly looked at her naked form. She suddenly felt shy, like anything but the bold, audacious tease who'd strutted out in the yard in nothing but a few bright strips of fabric. Yet she didn't move to cover herself. She wanted him to see everything she had, everything that could always belong to him if he would only claim it.

"Come in, baby." It was her voice, but it sounded like it was coming from someone else's body.

David was pulling the door closed behind him before she could take her next breath.

"Mom," he said again.

"Yes, baby?" She looked up into his eyes feeling like one of his giddy schoolgirl friends.

"I can't help it."

"Maybe I don't want you to," she replied, barely above a whisper. Her thick, dusky nipples were throbbing as hard as her clit.

"You're ... you're ...,"

"What, baby?"

"Fuck."

His enormous hardon bobbed against her skin as he took her face in his hands and kissed her. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to lean into his caress while their tongues slid against each other, delving into the others mouth.

She had imagined kissing him at least a thousand times. She'd found herself almost staring at his mouth at all the worst possible times. Now, there was something so familiar about kissing him, but at the same time it was beyond anything she could have imagined. David kissed her as if he were trying to drink and inhale her all at the same time, while the mere touch of his cockhead against her body was enough to turn her knees to rubber.

His large hands moved along her neck and down the length of her back, exploring the curve of her spine until he was firmly gripping her lush ass cheeks, his long fingers kneading deeply into her warm flesh.

Her pussy ached with need while Miranda felt something inside detach from the rest of her, as if another woman were living inside her body now and was just being set free. David's hand was crowding between them to massage her tits, and her own, anxious hands followed his hips until she was holding one of his butt cheeks in one hand and feeling the hot shape of his cock with the other.

His flesh was burning and impossibly rigid. She felt him melt a little against her, moaning needfully into her mouth when her fingers traced the throbbing length of his cock. The tip was incredibly slick with precum, and as she smeared his ooze over his own, strutting shaft, she was amazed at how much of it he could produce. He was simply pouring lube, and the more she fondled and stroked him, the more he dripped.

Miranda was dripping too, and when she felt his fingers search between her thighs and stroke her flushed lips her knees nearly buckled. It never felt like his fingers were groping, but gliding, almost dancing across her swollen core. The pads of his fingertips traversed the aching nub of her clit, exploring her for the first time, but somehow feeling as if they knew every contour as intimately as they knew his own cock.

Then his lips and tongue traveled in slow, agonizing zig zag patterns down her neck, across her proud tits, stopping to suckle each nipple deeply. Then he trailed nibbling kisses along her torso as he sank to his knees. With one hand, he reached up to cup and caress her tits and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder with the other.