The Bimbo Pill Pt. 01 - Mom

Slowly he bent lower, until he could blow a stream of warm breath across her skin. Ronnie's nipple was thick and fat, and when he took it between his lips, she jerked under his touch, her breath departing from her mouth in a happy puff of air.

"Yes!" It was less than a whisper, but the emotion, the joy, in her voice was more profound than a shout. "Your tongue! Please!"

Dreamlike, he ran his tongue around and around his mother's nipple, drawing on it in a long pull, then kissed it, again and again. Then, he did it to the other one, until her pink nipples were standing high and taut and turgid, shining with his saliva.

"Such a good boy," she purred. Somehow, he was hanging over her, braced on both elbows. Below, she writhed, her entire body moving in a slow, sensual dance. One leg raised, the velvet-soft skin of her inner thigh teasing him. Looking down, he could see the white lace thong, the only article of clothing remaining between the two of them. As they played with each other, the whisper of cloth had disappeared between his mother's labia, which were flushed, engorged with blood and slick with her juices. One of her fingers tangled in a strap, pulling it higher on her hip, and she rolled her eyes back as the movement made it sink deeper into her wet, swollen pussy.

"Can I take that off, Ronnie?" he asked.

"Please." A throaty giggle emerged from her lips. "Fucking you would be so much...harder...if I was wearing it." She lifted her legs high into the air, opening and closing them like a pair of scissors, teasing him with the sight of her loins.

"Hold still," he growled, kissing her. His tongue invaded her mouth, and she returned his affection ardently, throwing her hands around his head and nipping at his lips. With one hand he stroked her hair. With the other, he reached around her, pulling at one of the straps of her panties, until he was able to peel it away from her long, slender legs, and throw it across the room.

"My." She batted her lashes up at him seductively. "What a big...strong...man you are, Max." She moved his hand to her groin, whimpering in delight as he slid a finger into her wet channel. Her hand found his cock, stroking him. "Are you ready? I am."

"I can tell," he grinned down at her. "You're so wet, Ronnie. Do I make you that way?"

"Mmhmm." Her motions were growing frantic, and she ground her mound up into his hand. A set of dainty fingers grasped his, forcing him to push down on the rise of her mons. A natural blond, he saw, though he had never doubted it, with a cute little patch of dense, curly hair at the top of her slit. The rest had been shaved away. "Please, baby. I'm so close. But I want to cum with your big fat dick inside me. Please! Fuck me, Max!"

He could have teased her longer, he knew. Could have stroked and kissed and licked her until she was a puddle of jelly on the living room floor, desperate with unfulfilled lust. But his own desires had been growing as well. What would it feel like, to claim this incredible woman as his own. To take her body, which had given birth to his, as his lover?

"Ready?" He grabbed the base of his penis, aiming the leaking tip at her cleft. Her nether-lips were unfurled, each delicate fold of flesh glistening with her nectar.

Her eyes shining, she nodded, and then gasped in pleasure as he eased forward, piercing her body with his rock-hard shaft. Max groaned in turn as he filled her. Gwen was an enthusiastic lover. But nothing had prepared him for the unbelievable feel of his mother's body on him, below him, surrounding his cock as he took her in one slow plunge. Her head rocked back, her back arched, her breasts, twin mounds, rising to challenge his mouth as he kissed the oh-so-soft flesh.

"Oh, God, Max," she whispered, her eyes shining. Her legs locked around his waist, her heels pulling him in, then loosening, showing him without words the rhythm she desired. "Your cock is just right.

"Do you cum a lot?" she asked artlessly. "I hope you do. Your dad didn't. Two pumps and a squirt, that was Donny Wilson. Sometimes I wonder how I ever caught pregnant with you and Linda. Maybe I'm extra fertile. But I love the feel of a man's cum inside me, all hot and wet and sticky and drippy," she giggled.

How much was a lot, he wondered, with that part of his mind which wasn't awash in pleasure. Luckily, it seemed that his mother didn't expect a response. She seemed content to try to screw his brains out, her lovely curves and soft skin and warm, gentle fingers combining to set his body ablaze. Her hands reached back, over her head, her arching back making her nipples stand straight up, and she began to pull him into her deeper, harder, her groin rocking up against his with every thrust.

"Oh, Max," she said, her voice beginning to crack. "I'm getting close. It's been so long since I've cum with a man's dick inside me.

"Please."

Her hand whipped out and caught at the nape of his neck, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I want you to cum when I do. I want to feel your hot, sticky sperm inside me. Can you? Are you close, too?"

"Yes," he gasped, overwhelmed by his mother's naked passion. In all his life, he had never seen anything sexier than her body underneath his. He stole a look down, to where his cock split her sheath, and couldn't believe what was actually happening. "I'm close, Ronnie."

"Good," she breathed up at him, sounding like a girl half her age. He could feel a slow series of movements begin, her canal rippling around his cock. "Me too."

It was all too much. He leaned on one elbow, his hands finding her exquisite breasts, and kissed her, trying to show her how much he wanted her, how much she turned him on. His balls drew up, and he finally lost control, fucking his hot, horny, bimbo mother in a series of long hard strokes that made her scream in ecstasy.

"Oh, holy fuck, Max! I'm cumming. I'm cumming!" she shouted, her voice throbbing with joy. A vise clamped down on his prick, but he didn't stop, not until his cock burst in a wrenching orgasm that flooded her sheath with his cum. On and on it went, until every stroke resulted in a wet squelching noise, and he could feel the strange sensation of his own semen coating his dick.

He fell to his side, panting, as tiny starbursts filled his vision. At his side, Ronnie cooed and snuggled up next to him, her hand curled possessively over his groin. "That sounded like a good one," she said, smiling, and kissed the lobe of his ear.

"It was." He tried to think of something to say. What words did you use after your mother has given you the best orgasm of your life?

But Ronnie, it seemed, didn't seem to be in the mood for deep introspection. She fingered his cock curiously, her fingers rolling the wet, softening length around and around. "I've never seen it up close," she remarked, her voice cheerfully interested. "Not since you were a little boy, at least. It's nice. Much bigger than Donny's ever was. Even when he was hard. Which," she pouted in another lightning-quick mood change, "wasn't ever often enough."

She rested her head on his chest, looking up at him through her lashes as she dotted kisses on his chest, her tongue soft and loving. Her hand didn't leave him, slowly stroking his length. Something inside him felt, vaguely, as if he should ask her to stop. But even in his unaroused state, what she was doing felt way too good to even think about it.

"One cum," she said happily. She moved over him, her pussy pressing down on his flaccid cock. Her hips rocked slowly, eagerly. He tried not to stare, but it was impossible to ignore the way her cleft was slick with their mingled fluids, her tuft of pubic har matted to her skin. It was somehow disturbing and arousing at the same time. "When will you be ready to fuck some more. Soon? Tell me it will be soon!" She bounced on his groin, as if for emphasis.

"Huh?" He swallowed. The woman was insatiable! "Ummm...probably a few minutes, at least, Mom. I mean, I want to, but..." he gestured at his non-erection. "It might take a little bit."

"That's not a little bit," she responded, winking lewdly. "That's a big bit. And I want it between my legs again. Soon.

"But you're not hard. Poor baby. That's too bad." She slid down his body, her tongue leaving a trail of love as she negotiated his chest, then his stomach. One hand cradled his testes, while the fingers of the other, gentle as the touch of a spring breeze, lay lightly on his shaft. "He's just sleepy. But that's okay. I'll just have to wake him up."

Heedless of the fact that his cock was covered with a combination of her arousal and his own semen, she laid her lips on him, nuzzling him as gently as a mother cat with her kitten. A small, testing sniff, a tiny lick, and suddenly she was lapping at his rod with all the happy enthusiasm of a girl with an ie cream cone. She cleaned him from root to crown, and when she was done, his cock was lying in her hand, clean and shining with her saliva.

She frowned down at it. "It's not hard yet," she said accusingly, as if failure to become aroused in her presence was some sort of moral shortcoming.

"Sorry." He managed a shrug. "It felt good, though," he said, feeling as if he should give her some praise.

"Humph." She sat back on her heels, her winter-pale skin glowing in the dim living room. "I know what do!" she exclaimed. "I'll suck you off! I bet you'll get hard quick that way!"

Jesus. It's like I've got the world's sexiest MILF, but the one with the worst impulse control. But he found himself responding, wanting to take advantage of her. "That's right," he breathed, as she leaned close to his cock. "Suck it. Do it, like the horny fucking bimbo you are, Mom."

For a second, as her blue eyes flashed up at him, he thought he'd gone too far. The drug might be taking away his mother's ability to see the consequences of her actions, but it hadn't made her stupid.

Then she giggled, the sound like silver bells. "I know, baby. Isn't it fun? I love being this way. I love fucking. I love being with you."

She actually looks...happy.

The thought crashed over him like a bucket of cold water, and he felt like a selfish idiot. How long had it been since his mother had looked truly happy? Years, he thought. Oh, she was proud of his sister and himself. He knew that. And she took a great deal of pride and satisfaction in her work.

But truly happy? No. Or at least, not for a very long time. Gone was the brittle tension that seemed to always linger behind her eyes, the result of her failed marriage. Instead, she was calm, happy, and relaxed, her entire body at ease with itself.

She kissed the head of his cock, her tongue sweeping around his crown. "I'll make you hard again, Max," she whispered. "And then we can fuck some more. Okay?"

When she touched him that way, when she used that voice, he would have agreed to a vasectomy with a weed-whacker. "Sure."

And then he learned the difference between a high-school girl and a grown woman when it came to oral sex.

Gwen had sucked his cock.

His mother made love to it.

It started gently, delicately, a kiss on the side of his shaft, her tongue reaching out to sweep up and down his length. And then another, higher up. And another, lower down, her touch so light and gentle he could only lie back and gasp, blood pounding in his head.

Up and down, one side and another, her hands cradling him like his cock was a baby bird, unable to fly on its own. By the time she moved up, her red, glistening lips parted over his head, his hands were bunched in the blanket they were lying on and his hips were moving up and down helplessly, so eager he was to have his mother continue to pleasure him.

So soft. So gentle. So hot. So wet. She took him in. Not in a huge, lunging gulp, anxious to prove she could deep-throat him. Oh, no. Ronnie Melton didn't have anything to prove. Not to anyone or anybody. With a loving touch, a mother's touch, she eased him halfway into her mouth, her warm, sweet tongue laving his skin.

And he was hard now. God, yes. As hard as if he had not just had a stupendous orgasm less than twenty minutes ago. Unwilling to interrupt the magic she was weaving with her every move, he settled for small touches on her shoulders, her arms. He ached to massage her breasts, to kiss her warm, flat belly, to spin her around into a sixty-nine, to lick her sweet pussy and try to give her as much satisfaction as she was giving him.

Instead, he held still as she removed her mouth from his cock, one fist slowly running up and down his spit-slickened length. "Are you ready now?" she asked, naughty eyes teasing him.

"Yes." The word emerged as a hoarse gasp.

With a wicked glance, she straddled him, leaning down to plant a kiss on his lips. Her body moved tantalizingly, and he jerked and shivered as she allowed her labia to graze the topside of his phallus, every tiny touch a torment to his oversensitized skin.

"You feel so good on me, Max," she murmured. "Big. But not huge. Right." Her eyes focused. "You feel right." She placed her hands on his shoulders, her hips moving high, and with a happy sigh allowed her lips to part, taking him inside her body once more.

"Damn," he sighed, as she sank down. His hands filled themselves with her breasts, his thumbs grazing her nipples, then roamed around her back, taking her lovely, firm butt-cheeks in either hand and giving them a loving squeeze.

"Oh, Max," she sighed, falling across his chest, her breasts flattening against him as she ground down, taking in his full length. "You're the best."

And how bad was Dad in bed, he thought, if Mom can get turned on so much when all I'm basically doing is just lying on my back?

He put that thought aside for later. All that mattered now was Ronnie. With gentle, firm touches, he nudged her upward, so he could take a breast in either hand and lavish loving kisses on them. First one, and then the other, of her nipples was teased to tempting firmness and as he suckled, his tongue making love to her areola, she keened with pleasure, her hips moving more rapidly, her lovely thighs striking his groin in a quickening beat.

"Baby." Her voice was a groan. "You turn me on so much. So much. I'm so wet. Want your cum inside me." She bent down, her blond hair falling around his face as she kissed him with desperate urgency.

"I love you, Mom," he said, the words pulled out of his chest. "I love you," he repeated. His hands clutched her rear, his groin thrusting up, urgent for release.

Suddenly she reared up, sitting on his cock, her hips moving in tiny motions as her hands reached back and grasped his knees. Her eyes closed, her lips parted, a strange smile playing around him. His gaze found her stomach, and he was caught, entranced, as he watched the muscles shake and twitch, and felt the incredible flood of warmth around his cock as her channel somehow grew even hotter and wetter as she was caught in the throes of her climax.

"So good," she sighed, her voice dreamy. Slowly, her eyes focused on his. "Did you cum when I did, sweetie? No," she said, bouncing a little, as if testing his hardness. "I guess not. Let Mommy make that better."

She leaned down and kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss, using her mouth and tongue in ways that he could barely believe. Slowly, she rose up, then sank down, her cleft unbelievably hot and wet around his shaft. Every upstroke was a little quicker, every downstroke a little swifter, until she was bouncing on his pole, and all he could do was go along for the ride.

Cum barreled up the length of his shaft, unstoppable as the tides, or the north wind in winter. He only had time to pant out a single warning. "Ronnie. I'm cumming again!" before the lightning bolt of his orgasm blasted through him, leaving him stunned and swiftly falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*****

When he woke, he was lying on his side, a pillow under his head and the blanket tucked around his shoulders. Small sounds from nearby, however, told him he was not alone.

He sat up, smiling as he saw his mother, a few steps away, folding clothes. While he slept, one (or more) loads of laundry had completed.

Then he blinked. And froze.

Oh, shit.

Why didn't I ever think about the fact that the pill would eventually wear off?

I am fucked.

His mother was dressed in her clothes from earlier in the day. The lace bra, the panties, the sexy shorts and top had all vanished as if they had never existed. No sign was to be seen of the randy sex-kitten who had effortlessly seduced him and brought him to two thundering orgasms. Her hair was back in its customary style, her jeans and sweatshirt donned like a suit of armor made of cloth, and her face, when she turned to him, was guarded and wary.

"Hey," he said weakly, uncomfortably aware that under the blanket he was completely nude. "Jesus. Mom, I'm sor-''

She shook her head quickly. "No. it's my fault." A weak smile crossed her face. "I guess I know now why you aren't supposed to take unapproved drugs.

"I suppose we know that it works, though."

"How...how do you feel?"

"All right." Her mouth opened, as if she were about to add something else, then she shook her head. "A little...disoriented. Kind of like I'm still not really connected to myself. But not like before. Not like when we..." she shut her mouth abruptly, her pale skin blushing a sudden scarlet.

He hung his head. "I'm a fucking idiot. Mom, I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry. I knew you weren't in control of yourself, and I did it anyway. God." Shame flooded him. "I'm no better than those shitheads who try to get girls drunk so they can have sex."

"Hey." Her voice was firm. "Hey," she repeated. "Look at me, Max."

He did, forcing himself to meet her eyes.

"Listen." Her voice was strangely gentle. "It's not your fault. I don't blame you. The way I was, the way I felt, it would have taken a SWAT team to keep me from jumping your bones. And if you had turned me down, I would have run out the door looking for someone, and I wouldn't have cared what he looked like.

"But, still." She smiled wryly. "I think it's best that we don't talk about this again. Not to each other. And especially not outside the house. Your sister would have a conniption if she found out. To say nothing of what would happen to my career, or yours, if anyone discovered what happened this afternoon."

She walked over to him, leaned up, and kissed his cheek. Her scent surrounded him, but he kept his arms at his side. "This happened once. But never again, Max. I won't..." Her voice trembled, then firmed. "I won't pretend I didn't enjoy it. But we can't take this sort of risk again. Ever.

"Now go take a shower."

*****

The remainder of the weekend was sheer, unadulterated torture.

Max couldn't forget what had passed between himself and his mother that cold winter morning, when their bodies had joined, over and over. It had been incredible, wonderful, beyond anything he had ever experienced with Gwen.

But, as a result, he and his mother had lost their easy camaraderie, their casual ease with each other, built over the years. Now they were not merely mother and son, but also man and woman. The fact that they had made love hovered like a bad odor over every meal, every conversation. Every time his mother entered the room, he could feel himself tensing, preparing for the explosion that he was sure was all but inevitable. Yes, Veronica had seemed to forgive him, blaming herself for her loss of control while she was under the influence of the drug. But eventually, he felt in his bones, she would come to the conclusion that he was the one who was at fault. He should have controlled himself, somehow. Should have realized sooner what was going on and stuck a cork in the wine bottle of his mother's lust.