Victoria's Second Secret

My son Chris and I stared in silence at each other across the kitchen as the outside door swung closed; he'd clearly just risen from his bed. Then my words poured forth: "It's not what it seems... this was the first time... I wasn't going to let Gary... You can't tell your father!"

Chris began laughing and it seemed half a lifetime before he eventually replied: "Well, the first time for weeks anyway... And the way that guy's fingers slid into you suggests you are dripping wet... That moan didn't sound much like a 'stop it' or 'no' to me either... As for 'can't tell dad', well... I think you probably meant 'mustn't'? It would be a prohibition on my telling Dad rather than an impossibility."

I could've screamed; Chris' must have seen and heard everything; that grammar correction was just the cherry on top... And perhaps the most concerning part. Why was Chris here anyway? I went for appeasement "OK, please don't tell your father... You're an adult now Chris, you know that these things can happen. Anyway, what on earth are you doing back here again?"

"A burst pipe in my apartment building; the lower floors have been flooded, so I'll be home until Monday or Tuesday of next week. As for my silence, well... I'm sure we can reach an accommodation about that mum; silences can be bought."

"Bought... What do you mean bought? What do you want... How much!"

"Calm down, It'll not cost you a penny mum... I'll settle for a piece of that slutty-cunt. With Dad away and your fella, Gary wasn't it, doing a runner, a MILF-whore is going to need somebody's cock."

I couldn't believe my ears, but Chris advancing toward me confirmed the reality. I turned away as my son pinned me against the breakfast-bar; not from any notion of escaping, but I couldn't bear to have him looking me in the eyes as he... raped me.

I wasn't waiting long, Chris wore only boxers while my skimpy panties proved no more of a barrier to him than they had to Gary and Chris was already aware that I needed no more foreplay to get me slick. Chris guided his cock between the folds of my vulva, then slammed into me so hard that my feet left the floor; a penetration which elicited another of those shared primal groans.

With one hand in my hair, Chris' other snaked around to roughly maul my breasts, accompanying that move with a growled "It's been too many years since I've had my hands on those Mum." After which, Chris began pounding into me like a man possessed... Or perhaps enraged?

Chris didn't last long, two minutes at the most, though long enough for him to witness his mother reach a shamefully noisy orgasm of her own. At the last Chris jammed a finger into my bottom, no one had ever done that to me before, not even Gary and I simply exploded.

After that shared climax we held our positions for some while, but in the instant that Chris eased away from me, I turned and raced for the door. Rushing straight up the stairs and into the bathroom, I locked the door behind me; it wasn't much of a lock, you could open it from the outside with a coin, but it at least offered a sense of sanctuary.

After a few minutes regaining my composure, I peeled off my clothing and stepped into the shower. I set the water temperature as hot as I could bear and paid especial attention to the... flushing out, of my pussy; that pregnancy risk remained miniscule, but having your own son's semen inside you concentrates the mind.

I moved from the shower to the bath, lounging in that for almost an hour; the bath has long been a favoured location for letting my mind wander and thinking things through. It seemed to do me no favours that night, whenever my thoughts coalesced it was to discover that my fingers had been wandering too... Invariably finding their way between my legs!

In the end I drained the bath and returned to the shower stall and this time around I set the water temperature to it's coldest; like a bitch in heat, it was time for that MILF-whore to get cooled-off a bit! Afterwards I stealthily unlocked and opened the bathroom door, looking around and listening before I risked making my exit.

The house was silent and other than a soft glow from beneath Chris' bedroom door -- from his bedside lamp? - was in darkness too. Half a dozen tippy-toed steps carried me safely into my own bedroom and while there was no lock on that door, I dragged an adjacent chair behind it. I didn't even risk turning on the light as I slid, still naked, beneath the covers.

While it wasn't long, neither was it immediately, that I realised I wasn't alone in my bed; my heart began racing and I started to tremble, but I somehow couldn't bring myself to leap back out of it. The bed covers were flicked back, exposing me to the waist, I felt the mattress shift beneath me and saw a shadow hover over me in the moment before a mouth enveloped my left nipple.

That redoubled my trembles and drew a whimpering from my lips; it also saw my nipple and indeed the right one too, turn as hard as a bullet. It could only be Chris; I recalled the strength of feelings that his suckling me as a baby had engendered and this feeling was equally powerful, but so very different... And so very wrong.

Chris had transferred his attention to my right nipple before, I managed to find my voice; even then it was cracked, fragile and far from authoritative : "You have to stop Chris... Now... I gave you what you wanted before... I've paid for your silence... go to your room."

Chris' laugh was hushed but audible and carried more than a hint of... devilment. "No, you've only paid the first instalment; Dad's away until tomorrow night and while Dad's away... you're mine."

I was still trembling and Chris' words drew another frail whimper from my lips. More pertinently, Chris's words, or perhaps the return of his lips to my nipple, triggered a far from maternal quaking in my belly and a trickle of moisture between my thighs. I felt that trickle immediately and when Chris' hand arrived there a moment later, he undoubtedly discovered it too.

That was when my voice finally regained some strength; shockingly, rather than using it to continue with my protestations, I expended it on delivering a deep and feral growl of welcome to Chris' invading fingers. Chris' laugh was louder this time, but equally wicked "You really are a hot one... Gary was right, you're a MILF-whore."

I desperately wanted to protest, but a second feral growl accompanied by a buck and twist of my hips, which served only to force Chris' fingers even deeper inside me, didn't really cut it. That wicked laughter was again ringing in my ears as Chris slid down the bed, pushing the covers ahead of himself; I wondered what he was up to and I wasn't long in finding out.

It'd been twenty-six years since a man had pressed his head between my thighs... long before Chris had even been thought of, never mind born! That was Marco, an Italian ski-instructor on the trip I took with friends to Val Gardena while at university. I struggled to get Marco's tongue out of my pussy that week, but cunnilingus has sadly never appeared on George's menu.

That complaint couldn't be levelled against our son, Chris was aggressively enthusiastic and very skilled. Though given how long it'd been between meals, perhaps nowadays I'm easily satisfied? And Dear God but Chris satisfied! When Chris closed his lips around my swollen clit and hummed, he had me flying so high that I lost sight of the ground.

Equally, perhaps more importantly, I also lost sight of who it was devouring my pussy. The reservations which should've remained in the forefront of my mind were scattered to the four winds. When I grasped Chris' hair in both hands to force his mouth more firmly against my pussy, I didn't give two hoots as to whose son he was!

That first orgasm was explosive and proved to be only the first of three. Besides my squeals of delight, the latter two, were signalled by my thighs clenching tightly around Chris' head; when had my legs got atop his shoulders? God knows and I didn't Damned well care; fuck but Chris could eat pussy!

I was still floating down from that third orgasm when Chris rose up onto his knees and slithered farther up the bed. My legs were still dangling over Chris' shoulders, so by the time that I felt his cock brushing against my now sodden pubis, I'd little below my own shoulders still resting on the mattress.

Chris steered his cock easily between the soft curtains on my vulva and it pushed through them with even more ease; I was awash down there. The full length of Chris' cock speared into me with that first stroke; it felt to skewer me so deeply I thought it might reappear in my mouth. Chris paused while I regained my breath -- lost to another of those feral growls -- before he began scything into me.

Chris' penetrations were slow and... controlled, but they sank very deeply and each one hit its mark. With my legs still draped across Chris' shoulders and me in part hanging from them, gravity played it's part too; my clitoris rested heavily on the top of Chris' shaft, so the full length of each stroke, whether inbound or out, dragged firmly across it.

Despite the dissipation I'd been suffering before Chris had even began fucking me, that unnatural friction proved more than a girl could cope with; a dozen strokes and he'd brought me to orgasm yet again. Chris waited patiently as he allowed me to ride that one out, but there was no pause while I was enjoying my next orgasm.

I was on my way down from that climax before realising that Chris' cock was no longer inside me and a moment longer before sensing where it now was... Pressed against the tight ring of my bum. Chris wasn't the first man in my life to suggest similar, even his father had enquired and they'd all received the same response: "Not on your Nelly!"

So what made that night any different? Perhaps that it was Chris who was doing the asking? It's never easy for a mother to refuse her child; or perhaps more germanely; having already surrendered my pussy -- twice! - to my own son, how much more ignominious could my behaviour appear? Whichever, I offered no dissent... Far from it:

I uttered an encouraging mewl and pressed my pelvis forward, to meet and increase the pressure of Chris' contact; having seen Chris smile at that incitement, I growled out "Do it... fuck mummy's bum". Or that at least was what I tried to say; Chris' response was instant, the head of his cock penetrated and my words were lost within a bestial squeal.

While I'd not set eyes on Chris' cock, or not in recent years anyway, from the sensation of it inside my pussy, I'd adjudged it 'larger than his father's, but nothing like the truncheon that swung between Gary's legs'. Like so many things in life, it's all about context... Even with just the head of it inside my bum, it felt as if Chris had gored me with a bloody fence post!

I'd never experienced anything like it... Perhaps during childbirth, albeit in reverse. Lubrication wasn't the issue, Chris' cock was still coated in my viscous fluids and what felt like a gallon more of those had trickled across my bum while he'd been fucking my pussy. It was purely the size differential; I feared that Chris might split me in two.

My heat-beat raced, I struggled to pull air into my lungs and my temperature went through the roof; from the position I was in I could clearly watch as my whole body flushed red and broke out in beads of sweat. It was frightening, but at the same time, the most licentiously depraved and amoral sensation that I'd ever enjoyed... And boy, I was enjoying the hell out of it!

Having allowed me time to get my breathing and every other bodily function back under some degree of control, Chris moved his hands beneath my buttocks; the added lift and support from those made his subsequent penetrations a little easier to accommodate. And those penetrations were subtle... a 'push and twist' motion rather than simply banging it into me.

The longer it lasted the easier things got and by the time that I felt Chris' balls bumping against my pussy, I felt less... overstretched than I had after that initial penetration, when I'd only the head of Chris' cock to cope with. Once Chris was entirely... embedded inside my bum, he delivered me a couple of full, but steady, almost tentative strokes and then paused.

Was Chris simply allowing me time to... acclimatise to his invasion, or perhaps waiting to gauge my reaction, before risking a full assault? Whichever, it served for both and when Chris heard my response, he seemed pleased with what he heard: "Yesssss... Now fuck Vicki's arse hard; make mummy your MILF arse-whore."

That certainly lit the blue touch-paper! Chris maintained his self-control, but once his penetrations began in earnest, they became progressively harder and faster. Not content with what his cock was doing to me, Chris took one hand from beneath my buttocks and forced two fingers into my pussy while diddling my clitoris with his thumb.

My orgasm arrived quickly -- another of those explosive ones! - and though Chris didn't last long either, I was still enjoying a second, albeit a little less volcanic, while I felt my son's seed pumping into my bowel. It had been the most louche and utterly disgusting experience of my entire life; but also the most wonderful. That it had been my son using me so, put another of those cherries on top.

I lay still and silent in the aftermath, a silence which I sensed Chris was equally content to maintain. Chris couldn't possibly have been any more mortified by events than I was, but conscience-stricken or not, Chris' assault had exhausted me and the next thing I knew, the bedside clock read 7:00am. Chris still lay asleep beside me; I was careful not to wake him as I headed to the bathroom.

I wasn't quiet about taking my shower though; I hoped that the noise would wake Chris and he'd use the opportunity to scurry away to his own bedroom. I was half right; when I returned, Chris was wide awake but still in my bed. Chris smiled -- that wicked one -- threw back the bed covers and proposed that I re-join him, while losing my bathrobe along the way.

My expression and shaken head provided my answer and that's when I discovered it was no suggestion, Chris had been giving me an order: "Dad's not back until tonight, so you're still mine. You've ample time to suck me off before you go into the office and don't be late coming home this evening either; I'll want another fuck before one of us goes to collect Dad from the airport."

Those trembles were back with a vengeance, my allowing the secret of Gary to escape had proven a costly mistake. Not only was that cock rearing up before me my own son's, I was well aware that it'd not seen a shower since being inside my bum and pussy. Perhaps yet more abhorrent... I didn't give a damn; my pussy was once again leaking at the mere thought of fulfilling Chris' vile demand.

I did provide the blow-job Chris demanded, I even swallowed his come; he didn't actually demand that, it was a service I volunteered. Chris fucked me in the evening too; in the kitchen, bent across the breakfast-bar again, though this time he also fucked my bum and finished in there too. Though that wasn't quite so relevant any more, I'd picked-up a 'morning-after' pill from the pharmacy at lunchtime.

I was still draped and dripping on the worktop when Chris set off to collect George from the airport and I was more than happy to let him go; I wasn't sure if I could look my husband in the eye. Besides which, when the look and smell of sex still lingers on his son, a man's less likely to question him about it quite so rigorously as he would his wife; I was thoroughly showered and changed before their return.

In the event that weekend proved much easier than I'd feared: Chris behaved as he always did, if perhaps a little more... dutiful than usual, but with no hint or reference -- even in private -- to our impropriety. I'd been especially wary of Sunday morning; George was playing golf so it would be just the two of us, but even then Chris behaved 'normally'... Shamefully, I wasn't sure whether I felt relieved or disappointed.

I drove Chris back to the railway station on the Tuesday afternoon and even on that journey the incident was ignored; we instead discussed his plans for the coming term. Only after having pulled his bags out of the back of the car did Chris broach the subject and leaning back in through the passenger door, he did so with a vengeance:

"So, if I'm not going to get back before the Easter vacation, I guess I can expect my MILF-whore's cunt to be dripping again by the time I arrive?" I was flabbergasted and simply sat there with my mouth half-open.

It was Chris leaning forward and planting a far from filial kiss on my mouth which broke the spell. "No! You can't.. Mustn't! We mustn't... Not again... Not ever; your father's back home now."

Chris' smile and laugh where both wicked. "Weren't you listening to last night's conversation about the takeover bid? Dad expects to be back in Spain for a week to finalise things in early April; that'll be during my Easter vacation and we've already set the precedent... When Dad's away, you're mine."

Those well remembered tremors were back; even worse, so too were that quaking in my belly and the trickle of moisture between my legs. No, we couldn't! Realisation dawned... my salvation and I voiced it immediately, though I couldn't avoid noticing that I felt a flicker of disappointment along with my relief: "Your father might be away, but Paul and Ian are going to be home then too."

Chris' wicked grin didn't falter: "Of course they are, but it was dad that I promised not to say anything to, not the twins. And you've raised us well mum... the three of us have never had a problem with sharing our toys."

I was back to stunned, open mouthed silence as Chris withdrew again through the passenger door and in the moments before he closed it, Chris concluded: "We all know how the twins like to do everything together... I'm looking forward to seeing how your slutty-cunt copes with two cocks inside it at once; I'll slip my own into your mouth, just in case your screams get too loud."