You Don't Need Girls... Ch. 02

The next section in the scene. Another to follow.

I've disabled voting and comments because I don't care much about vies and/or comments.

There will be typos and errors in the text, please forgive any that remain.

More to the scene with Peter and his mother.

Thanks for reading.

GA - Cambridgeshire, UK - 13 Sept 21

***

It was surreal watching my own mother's fingers stirring her vulva. The weird sense of dislocation was strong, disbelief at what I was seeing a sort of numbness in my head while my body responded. I wasn't thinking. I couldn't. The shock had switched something off in my brain. Instinct took over. I knew she was my mother, that the scene was all and every kind of wrong, but I didn't care about being related directly by blood. I had a vague, misty understanding about how she was the woman who birthed me while desire for her ripe, voluptuous body surged through my core. She was gorgeous and dressed for sex. My mother was wearing stockings and heels, feral desires hot in her expression as she snarled at me.

I was wanking my size, rapt, focus moving all over my mother from where her fingers worked her ungainly labia up to her breasts, the large orbs shivering as she played with herself, lust boiling inside me when I looked at her face and saw she was feeling the same urgent need.

"I can give you everything you need," my mother said.

She hissed it through clenched teeth, hips moving in shirt, jerky thrusts like I was already balls deep inside her scarlet opening.

"I had my hair done for you," she moaned. "These stockings... The shoes... I put them on for you. I trimmed my bush... I'll be your girlfriend... I'll be a lover... I can be a slut if that's what you want... Whatever you need me to be. Just stay away from other women. You want to fuck, then come and fuck me."

I moved to the bed without knowing I was going to do it. The unreality was a blanket over us both. The world was going about its business outside my bedroom window while, in there, I was living through a dream. It was impossible, but there she was. My mother was offering herself. She was giving it up to me. I was staring at the part of her through which I'd entered the world, slick and squalling, a son who would one day -- today -- recreate the act that had sparked my life inside her womb.

I was going to fuck my own mother.

It was incest and I didn't care.

She was beautiful and I loved her.

"Mum," I muttered as I knelt on the bed.

"Mm-hmm," she said.

She was staring at my face. Then she glanced at my cock.

"God, I know I shouldn't, but I want that," she breathed.

Our gazes locked again when she looked at my face again, connection sparking between us.

"Peter, darling, come to me," my mother murmured.

The bed dipped as I knee-walked between her legs. She reached for me with the hand which wasn't stirring her vulva.

"Baby, kiss me," she sighed.

I went low, taking my weight on one arm as my mother's fingers hooked the nape of my neck.

"Put it in. Kiss me," she crooned.

I looked down, soaking up the detail of her body as the thrill rushed through me.

"We're going to do it," I gasped.

She nodded and crinkled her nose at me, expression vixen.

"We are. I want to."

I was looking at her big breasts, excitement a hot rush when she left her pussy alone and her fingers encircled my girth.

I grunted, shocked by that first intimate contact.

"Mm, you're a big healthy boy," my mother sighed.

I boggled at her, my attention shifting from where her fist caressed my length to where her eyes sparkled with devilment.

"I'll show you what it's all about, Peter," she said. "I'll let you do anything you want. Whatever Alison would, I'll do it, too. I probably know how to do it better as well. I know a few things. I know what boys really like."

We were kissing a second later. Emotions burst inside me, tender love swelling and mixing with the heat of lust and desire. Our tongues slithered and writhed, coiling as I gasped into my mother's open mouth, her hand guiding me to her opening.

I moaned in delight as my mother sobbed: "Oh my good-fucking-God! You're inside me! Peter, darling, my baby, I've got you in there."

I was up on both hands, focus on where my mother's body was taking my size. She was staring at me, shock in her face, mouth gaping as I felt the molten embrace around my girth. My mother's fingers went to my arms, her grip on my biceps as she shifted her rump and folded her legs at the knees.

"Fuck, mum, I don't believe it," I gasped.

She nodded at me, something like fear behind her eyes.

"Peter, I know," my mother said on a gasp of her own.

"You're my mother," I said, paradoxically appalled and thrilled.

"That's why I want this to happen. If this is what you need. I want you to have a wonderful life. If you want sex, I'm here to give it to you."

I was all the way in. My mother's body had taken all my size, her insides slippery with her arousal as my pre-cum helped slicken the way.

I groaned, enthralled when I saw the thick, meaty labia clinging to my shaft on the outstroke, my cock shiny with our combined essence, lust exploding within.

On that surge of dark need, I looked at my mother's face. I stared into her eyes, offering love in a way which was totally different to the filial tenderness I'd known in the past. It had been a quick, simple moment, our bodies connecting on an intimate, physical level while emotions flared and my perception of my mother altered forever.

She giggled and winked at me when I gasped: "You trimmed your bush."

"I did. I was so wet when I did it, too. I knew this was going to happen."

I love you," I groaned.

"Of course you do, I'm your mother," she breathed.

And then we started to move.