I purred as delicious aftershocks of my orgasm continued...or was it the early tingles of my next son-induced climax? Slowly I rose up, sliding my knees forward until I was sitting on top of John, impaled on his tremendous penis. "That sounds like a dare, young man!" Feeling more wicked and happy than I could ever recall, I wiggled my shoulders making my meaty breasts bounce and dance and as I raked fingernails down my son's muscular chest, hissed, "Just sit back while Momma fucks you, baby!"
I tried to show my own nervousness as I began to bounce on my son's erection. It had been a long time since I'd been on top -- a "harlot's position" as my idiot, soon to be ex, would have said. If I was to be a harlot -- a whore, I wanted to be a good one for my loving son!
My mouth hung open in an expression of slack-jacked ecstasy as I slowly slid upwards, leaving John's dick coated with his seed and my seemingly never ceasing juices...my pussy never feeling so hot and wet before. Then slowly I would slide back down, unable to stop from moaning with pleasure as my son's cock spread my cunt wide, filling me as I had never been filled before. "You're so big, darling!" I moaned. "Momma loves your big cock!"
Each time I began to ride him a little faster -- the pleasure building into a frenzy of sexual delight as my body became gleaming with sweat. The aroma of pussy cream, semen and our combined fuck sweat produced something that acted as an aphrodisiac, our nostrils flaring with the distilled scent of carnality and provoking me until I was a wild woman, riding John's cock with abandonment, my breasts rolling and bouncing all about until I cupped one and brought it to my mouth, tonguing and then biting my own engorged nipple as another orgasm exploded within me.
I remember little for minutes after that...I recall flailing about, impaled on the long length of my son's throbbing erection! I think, finally, my heart again threatening to arrest, I collapsed atop my son while his hands caressed my slick flesh. I think I passed out -- his still hard cock buried in me firing off overtaxed nerve endings. At some point I felt myself being jostled and I moaned as I felt my legs being spread as I was somehow being rolled over onto my stomach. John made some muffled grunting noises like a boar in rut and his cock seemed to be slowly rotating inside my cunt -- worming slowly about as I quivered and writhed, feeling like a rutting animal myself -- spitted above a roaring sexual fire.
My son's strong hands slipped under me and raised me up onto my knees -- John's hands then sliding upwards to cup my hanging, swaying breasts, palms scratching my nipples that were so swollen now that they ached with sweet and intense pain. I awoke as John slowly withdrew from my cunt until only the swollen head remained lodged between my battered labia. I mewled unhappily, not wanting to lose the wonderful feel of his hard cock inside me. I woke up fully as John lunged forward and I became fully aware as for the first time in decades, I was fucked doggy style."
"YESSSSS!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, reaching out to grip the polished wood rim of the ornate headboard to brace myself as my son withdrew and then thrust forward again. Again, the fiery joy of orgasm erupted inside me as John began to fuck me hard, the sound of his pelvis slapping against my meaty hips sounding like a sharp shot barely audible above my cries of delight. It was hard to believe that the young man I had guided into lovemaking just a little while before was now mastering his mother with his cock -- fucking me hard, claiming me like a great beast claims its mate -- driving that cock into me, making me cum and cum until my voice was hoarse from screams of pleasure and tears of pure sexual bliss poured from my eyes.
I pushed back, almost knocking him over in my desire to know my son's cock was going ever deeper inside me, making me feel more like a woman...a man's woman than ever before. Again, as that mammoth cock sawed in and out of me, I felt like my body and soul had been incinerated and then reborn. I was a new woman...my son's woman -- wanton and carnal. My old life was an empty and happily forgotten shell and the rest of my life would be dedicated to pleasing and being pleased my only child...my son...my John!
Orgasm followed orgasm as John plowed his cock into me like a relentless fucking machine -- my pussy afire with pleasure, bathing his massive penis with hot cunt cream as I howled like a banshee being consumed by flames of carnal passion.
My son leaned in, his chest, hot and sweaty and feeling delicious against my slick skin and hugged me to him, thrusting his cock deep into me as he pulled me upright, making me shiver with delight as he kissed my neck and panted, "God, I love fucking you, Mom!"
As I was replying, "I love being fucked by you, son," John thrust upwards and began cumming inside my womb again and my words collapsed into incomprehensible screams of orgasmic delight. An sweet eternity seemed to pass as we were coupled together in the throes of our incestuous passion, his cock filling my cunt with a seemingly endless flood of fiery semen and I had never felt so safe and satisfied as I did wrapped in my son's arms, impaled on his loving cock.
Again, reality seemed to wink in and out as I was transported to a dream world that consisted of John and myself -- a place where everything was simply the totality of our love and desire for each other. At some point, I imagine we collapsed on the bed and fell asleep -- our passions sated for the immediate moment. I might have whimpered in my sleep when John finally softened enough to slip from the grasp of his mother's sperm soaked pussy, but when I awoke in the wee hours in the morning, I was comforted by its still considerable heft nuzzling my still quivering labia.
I must have stirred enough to wake my son because he pulled me tighter against him as we spooned and he sleepily murmured, "You're still my girl, aren't you, Mom?"
I sighed happily and wiggled against my son's warm body and replied, "Oh yes, darling. Momma's your girl forever and ever!" I felt his lips kiss the nape of my neck and I immediately slipped back into wonderful and wicked dreams.
In the morning, we woke both starved for food and for each other. We attended to our bodies' needs -- winding up in the kitchen where we devoured the somewhat burned meatloaf that I'd cooked for him the night before. I sat naked on my son's lap, his cock pulsing between my legs reminding me of last night and of nights to come.
My pussy ached from the wild sex we'd had the night before, reminding me of how tender I'd been when I'd lost my virginity to his father on our honeymoon. It pleased me now to think that I'd again been a virgin of sorts...a virgin bride of incest that had been deflowered by my son.
After we'd eaten, John took me to the room I had dubbed the Shrine Room. My son nodded and said, "That's a good name for it, Mom. It is a shrine to you and all my hopes and dreams and fantasies for us! I always viewed it as a temple where I could come to worship the goddess that holds my heart."
Standing in the middle of the Shrine Room, I ran my arms up and around John's neck and rubbed myself lewdly against him, loving the way his cock stood up proudly between us -- still sticky from our lovemaking. "I like that, son. I like being your goddess."
John kissed me, taking his time and as our tongues danced, so did we, moving slowly to a tune only the two of us could hear. I restrained myself from climbing up my son's muscular body and impaling myself on his cock right then and there -- instead letting him show off his icons of mother-son incest.
The huge blow-up photograph of me in my bikini and halter top he'd swiped from the house long before he'd left home. "I can't tell you how many times I jerked off to that picture when I was a kid," John told me. "Heck, I yanked off the day you came out of the cabin wearing that little number. I'm surprised you didn't notice me walking around all day with a big boner!"
The paintings had both been done by a friend he'd gone to Northwestern with -- a now fairly successful artist who shared some of my son's passions in life. "For Mike, it was...is an aunt of his. He showed me some of his sketches and paintings he'd done of his aunt -- imagining her in the nude. I knew I had to have him try his hand at capturing you in the nude."
"And us together," I said, sidling up beside him and taking his hard cock in my hand while he brought his arm around my shoulder and cupped a breast. "Your friend does good work!" I said as I slowly stroked his cock, making gooseflesh pop up on his flesh.
He showed me his collection of incest pornography -- the professional stuff, some of which I would come to appreciate -- especially seeing my resemblance somewhere between Kay Parker and Honey Wilder. John would come to show me his collection of amateur computer porn -- dozens of videos, mostly American, but many European, depicting mother-son incest and focusing on couples that resembled us. Most were just straight up fictional couplings, but John confided that there more than a few that he believed might be real mother and son couples. "I think there are a lot more guys worshipping their mothers out there than most folks imagine," he said solemnly before grinning down at me and saying, "Some of us take worshipping at the alter of mother love seriously!"
Eventually, we wound up in the recliner, me sitting in John's lap as we fondled and kissed and talked about the future. I made clear to my son that I had closed the door on my old life and that he was now and forever at the center of my new one. We discussed my impending divorce and agreed that there was no need to return to Florida other than to take care of closing out the details of my old life.
As talk faded and we grew closer to the moment of making love again, I did say, "There is something I think we need to do, if it can be arranged."
John raised an eyebrow as his hands teased my wet flesh between my legs, fingering my pussy while a thumb rubbed gently and sweetly over my clit. "Whatever you want, Mom."
I wormed my away around so that we were both facing the same way, rising up and spreading my legs above his cock. I leaned my head back against John's shoulder and slowly impaled myself on his wonderful motherfucker of a cock, letting out a long moan and then once I had taken all of my son's erection inside my pussy, said, "Do, ummm, you think your friend Mike could paint a portrait of us fucking?"
John groaned and teased my ear with his tongue while his hands began squeezing bountiful handfuls of my breasts and replied, "Oh god, yesssss! Mom, It's like I died and went to heaven."
As I slowly worked myself up and down my son's cock, my already sensitive flesh making me quiver with carnal delight, I kissed my son's jaw and said, "No, better than heaven, baby. It's Momma's love and it's Momma's hot pussy!"
I felt the recliner tilt back so we were lying nearly prone, my pelvis working back and forth, allowing my son's huge dick to worm in and out of his mother's lovingly hot and wet cunt and the world become a jumble of images -- my son around me, under me and in me combining with the lewd and lovely painting of us and of me, which blended in with the thick, arousing scent of sex -- pussy juice and sperm and lovemaking sweat which joined our moans and cries of pleasure and built into a crescendo of orgasmic ecstasy that once again left me full of my son's thick semen and gasping for breath.
We remained coupled for what seemed hours -- alternating between fucking and talking -- planning our future together. It hardly seemed possible. Three days before, I was an unhappy wife and mother on the verge of marital disaster and now I was renewed, madly in love with my own child, abandoning all my morals and beliefs for something that outshone anything I ever could have conceived. My future...the future of my son and I together beckoned to us and in the storm of incestuous orgasm, I truly believed anything was possible.
And so my new life began. John stood beside me in a Pensacola Courtroom six months later as the judge made final his decree. He found that I was entitled to seventy-five percent of the house and that Benny wasn't entitled to any spousal support. "Trust to the Lord to provide," he told my ex-husband in a wry voice. Benny had been somewhat agog at my appearance -- no more dowdy and modest clothes for me. I was wearing a white silk dress with a diving neckline and a short hemline, showing off my voluptuous breasts and my good legs.
Benny was wide-eyed with disbelief when outside the courthouse, in celebration of my divorce, my son gave me a long and passionate kiss, followed by slipping an engagement ring on my finger. I'm sure my asshole ex still tells people I'm some kind of incestuous whore. What do I care...it's actually kind of the truth.
A month after that, I married my son in a religious ceremony -- not valid in the law's eyes, but I feel safe in believing I have the Lord's blessing. I was happy changing my name back to Harper -- now part of that happily married couple, John and Cassie Harper that live an idyllic life in Chicago, although in private (and sometimes in public), John still calls me Mom and why not? I am before anything else, John's mother.
It thrills me to know that there are folks that know the truth -- that our love runs deeper than most couples -- that we share a familial link that transcends normal love. Even our devoted doorman knows the truth and how could he not? It was only a month or so after my son and I became lovers that we came home from a late dinner and dancing cheek to cheek at a bluesy jazz club, both of us horny and unable to wait for the elevator.
In the elevator alcove, John's hands had scooped my meaty breasts out of the top of my halter dress top, leaning in to kiss me as he pinched and pulled at my nipples. After unleashing my son's cock from his trousers, I squatted down and began to suck John's cock like a woman starved for cum and out of the corner of my eye I saw Anthony pass by, smiling as he tipped his cap to us both. Thankfully, no other resident passed through or called for the elevator as I couldn't wait and I didn't rise up until my mouth was overflowing with my son's semen. As we finally stepped into the elevator, John's fingers underneath the hem of my dress, fingering my dripping wet pussy, Anthony called out, "Have a lovely night, Mister and Missus Harper." I was scooping a dribble of thick white sperm back into my mouth as I smiled at the doorman before the doors closed.
Later, I asked John whether he worried about the doorman saying something, but my son smiled and informed me that he'd helped Anthony's daughter get into Northwestern and both a niece and cousin now worked for the company thanks to him. "We could fuck on top of the lobby desk and Anthony would just cheer us on."
Another person that knows the truth about this mother and son is the artist, Mike who happily agreed to do another portrait. It took a great deal of time and a lot of posing on our part, but it was time well and enjoyably spent. On the first anniversary of us becoming lovers, we hung a new painting in the Shrine Room. It is the largest of them all and very powerful. John sits on a straight-backed wooden chair and I am sitting in his lap, facing forward, my legs draped over his thighs and my toes rising up off the floor.
My son's immense cock is buried three quarters of the way inside my spread wide pussy and my head is thrown back against his head -- my face a perfect expression of total and complete incestuous ecstasy! Mike's talents are evident in every brush stroke as he made it look so much like the real thing, capturing everything perfectly -- from the glittering of our juices on my unruly black bush to the illusion that my nipples are about to burst in arousal. Most of all, the portrait somehow conveys the love that's between my son and me. Mike said our love for each other radiates off of us and its arousing in its intensity. I take him at his word. For every lovely orgasm we had during the sittings for our portrait, he jacked off an equal amount of times. I say a prayer for him every night -- that he might know our joy with his own aunt.
As for us, we want for nothing, but even if we were reduced to rags, John and I still have each other. Our love sustains us and takes us places I never imagined we'd go. I know it's an uncertain world, but the one thing I will never doubt is my son's love for me. If ever I should, I need only visit the Shrine Room. The truth of the love my son and I share dwells there.