Fucking Mom in Hong Kong

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Mom and Son take relationship abroad and to the next level.
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This is a sequel to "Skinny Dipping with Mom" and "In Love. With my Mom." Thanks for reading!

*

"Hong Kong, really?" I asked, astounded at the mere idea of it.

"Yeah, why not? Heard it's a fascinating place. East meets West. Lots to see and do."

"I like Chinese food..."

"There'll be plenty of that there."

"How long will we stay?"

"Probably a week. Perhaps we could trek elsewhere after."

"Like where?"

"Maybe Europe..."

"You serious, mom? You want to do that much globetrotting?"

"I don't know. It's just to the point where most of my work I can do by phone and email. I can easily take a few weeks off to travel. We've got plenty saved for it, too. Could even sublet the condo."

"I've always wanted to travel. Especially with you, mom."

"So then let's travel. I love our weekends in South Padre and occasional visits to Mexico, but I want to go further. I want to travel the world... with you."

"Then let's go. Let's do it. When do we leave?"

"Probably in a couple weeks. Need to make all the necessary arrangements."

"Well, alright then, pretty lady."

"Alright then..."

We kissed for a minute and then had dinner. After dinner, before even gathering up the dishes, I picked mom up, flung her over my shoulder, and carried her into our bedroom.

I propped her on the bed and reached under her beige work/formal skirt and slid off her dark silk stockings. After doing so, she lowered and dropped her crimson lace panties to the floor. Then she went to unzip her skirt, but I stopped her.

"You want me to keep it on?" She purred.

"I do. Been watching your ass in that skirt all morning and evening. Keep the blouse and bra on, too. I like how they make your tits look."

Mom giggled, curled her lip, flipped over and got on all fours. This had become our favorite position, doggystyle. Mom rolled up her skirt just over the top of her asscheeks and pointed her luscious ass up high in the air.

I ripped off all my clothes in seconds flat, knelt before her, and injected my throbbing cock into her moist cunt. It was so slippery that my cock slid right in.

Once inside, I started banging away, but mom whispered back to me to slow down. And I did so.

Being young I often got carried away, fucking mom. It was easy, with a woman as beautiful as her. Once in a blue moon, she'd go pornstar style on me, but mostly, like now, she wanted it slow and romantic. And I have to say I like it better like that, too.

So I slowed down and massaged her ass with one hand and with the other lightly pulled at strands of her blond hair and reached around and fondled her big tits as I gently pushed my cock up into her soft pussy.

Mom responded in kind. Her pussy muscles contracted and tightened up. Oh how I loved it when they did that! Turns out mom was an expert at muscle control, something I'd pleasantly discovered since we started our illicit relations...

While constricting her pussy muscles around my cock, mom also grinded back her asscheeks into my pelvis, bucking back at me. How I loved that too!

We were having mesmerizing, passionate sex, and her moans got louder and louder with each of my thrusts. The softness of her asscheeks as I held them, the tightness of her pussy, its squeezing, hot suction, fuck, it all overwhelmed me and I let go of a huge orgasm inside her, shooting my load deep.

And, as usual, once I came, she followed and her body quivered and she craned her neck around to kiss me.

Breaking our kiss, we fell into the bed in unison, exhausted. I glanced over and admired her, lying there, panting, her body stretched out into an X. She looked so fucking hot in bed with all her work clothes on and her skirt riding up and her legs and bare pussy exposed. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to actually be able to fuck this woman.

I leaned over and kissed her again for a minute. Then we held hands for a while and stared out the window. Dusk was falling and we gazed out toward the heavens and marveled at how the reddish hue of the evening glow illuminated the Gulf sky.

Things had been bliss with mom, ever since that night she came home from her date with that Ted asshole and we'd finally gotten everything out in the open. We were pretty much spending all our free time together now, doing all sorts of couples' stuff, like going to movies, out to eat, walks on the beach, etc.

Plus we were fucking like rabbits. In the morning before work we'd go for a quickie, or sometimes two. And at night after dinner we'd always do it, usually two or three times.

Even during lunch we'd go at it. Mom had gotten me a cushy city council job near her office on the Island and we'd meet up for lunch at Padre Island Burger Company and then drive off into the sand dunes, in her Lexus, for a midday tryst.

Behind her darkly tinted windows, we'd climb into the comfy leather backseat, and usually do it with her on top, her skirt rolled up, my fly open and her panties hanging off one of her ankles. I'd always unbutton her blouse a couple buttons so I could suck her gorgeous tits as they popped out of her bra and jiggled to the rhythm of her riding me.

It'd been awesome, everything with her, like a dream. It was the most sex I'd ever had in my whole life. Mom and I were the perfect newlyweds having the time of our lives.

But it wasn't all perfect. In fact, far from it. Because we were mom and son, and everyone in town knew us, we had to be careful what we did and said in public. It was weird, having to go from being all over mom in private, to acting totally different around her in public, like at the grocery store or something.

It was impossible to hide from everyone, though, how much time we were spending together. And pretty soon mom's friends started to talk to her about it, saying how she shouldn't be spending so much time with me, how it'd turn me into a "mama's boy." If only they knew!

My pals gave me some gruff about it, too. There'd be plenty of times where they'd ask me out drinking, to the rodeo, or to a Spurs game, and I'd turn them down so I could hang out with mom.

Eventually it boiled over one night when we were out drinking and my buddy Trevor asked me to his house to watch the 'Stros game that weekend. When I declined he asked me if it was because I needed to see my mom. I told him "yes," to which he replied, drunkenly: "Dude, why are you always with your mom? It's weird. I mean, she is hot and all. I mean, but, like, are you banging her or something?"

A chill tingled down my spine at his insinuation, but a rage overtook me when he spoke about my mom in such a crude manner. Coolly, I set my glass down on the table, pivoted in his direction, and threw a left cross that landed cleanly on his right eye. After impact he plummeted from his barstool.

My friends pulled me off him, as I'd been kicking him while he lay on the floor, and a couple bouncers tossed me out. The next day he stopped by my office, shiner and all, hat in hand, and apologized and we had lunch and a beer. But still, the whole incident let me know that people were watching. And taking notes.

Probably the most awkward time for mom and me was around our family. If they came by to visit I'd have to take all my stuff out of our bedroom and bring it back to "mine." And mom and I would barely be able to have sex.

The weekend we went up to Galveston to see my grandparents, her parents, was the worst. My grandmother is a very shrewd woman, and I swear, the second we stepped foot in that house, she cast us the strangest glare I'd ever seen from her.

Just being around them and other family that weekend was painful. Mom kept telling me that she felt like everyone knew. She made a point to try to never be alone with me at all during that visit. Never to go anywhere alone with me, not sit or stand too close, nothing. It was beyond awkward.

Beyond awkward also was seeing her slightly older sister, my aunt, who was a far chubbier version of her. Looking at her and thinking of my mom being a hundred pounds heavier really freaked me out. It made me want to do everything I could to keep mom away from the ice cream, with which she indulged way too much of during that visit. It also seemed like my aunt knew about us, too. She'd been giving me some awful strange glares.

Perhaps the highlight of our visit to the grandparents, pretty much the only good time we had, was when I snuck into mom's old bedroom, to see her, late at night.

"Hey..." I whispered, opening the door.

"Shhh!!! What are you doing here?!" She angrily whispered back, putting down the book she'd been reading.

"Thought I'd pay you a visit..."

"My parents are right down the hall!"

Her saying that made me feel like a naughty teenager. Which was rather stimulating, actually.

"Bet you used to have some fun in this room, didn't you, mom?" I said softly, creeping over to her old, pink pony covered bed.

"No. Well, maybe. Why? Did your aunt tell you something?" She hissed. I could tell she was mad at me for having barged in.

"Just guessing... Did you? Did you and dad? I know you had me young..."

"Hmmm... We might have... But, you know, your dad wasn't my first..."

"I thought he was."

"Nope. There were others."

"Others?"

"Others. I told your dad he was the first. I was his first."

"So who were they?"

"I'm not telling..."

"How many?"

"Including your dad, four."

"Oh my God, mom, you're such a slut!"

Mom covered her mouth, laughing, and playfully slapped me on the chest. The thought of her being a slut turned me on, for some reason.

"Tell me about it, mom."

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Because I do. That's all. So... I'm your fifth?"

"Nope... Tenth."

"Tenth? What? You cheated on dad?! Five times?! Are you serious?!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down! No, I did not. If you really want to know... I... No, I'll tell you later. I don't wanna say now..."

"Okay. I respect that. But please tell me when you're ready. I want to know. Honestly, I do."

"Okay. I will. I love the way you respect me."

"Of course I respect you. I love you. You're my wife. And my mom, too."

"Well, your mom and your wife is tired, suge. Lemme get some sleep. We can talk later."

"I'm tired too. But I can't sleep. Not until I get something. From my wife..."

"And what's that?"

"I think you know..."

I tugged the covers off mom and admired her voluptuous body. As always, she slept in the nude. And I was horny as fuck thinking of her teenage adventures, all these other dudes she fucked, and the fact that I could fuck her in her old room, in the same bed that dad and who knows who else did. Possibly this was even the bed I was conceived in...

"Not here, suge..." Mom said, assertively, hastily yanking the covers back over herself.

"Come on, mom..."

"Someone might walk in..."

"At 1AM? The grandparents are asleep. Way asleep. It'd take a hurricane to wake them up."

My cock began to pitch a tent in my pajama bottoms. Mom's eyes were fixated on it.

"Mmm... We probably shouldn't... But... Alright... Just be quick. And quiet..." Mom said sternly, and she closed her eyes, flicked off her reading light, and raised up the covers so I could climb under them.

I hoisted down my pajama bottoms and climbed into bed with mom. She spread her legs and I guided my stiff member smoothly into the slippery warmth of her cunt with one fluid motion and began to fuck her slowly. Her pussy was especially snug that evening.

"Mmmm... Awwww, suge..." Mom moaned. It was so hot fucking her in that bed. My mind was running wild, speculating on who else might have fucked her there before. Maybe dad or maybe a family member, one of her cousins, maybe even grandpa...

"Damn, mom..." I muttered, enjoying her pussy in a way I hadn't before.

"Don't call me that... Aww..." She muttered back and started moaning a bit louder as the power of my plunges into her pussy intensified.

I'd forgotten that mom didn't like me to call her mom when we fucked, even though I always did. A couple times she got really mad about it, but tonight she brushed it off quickly.

"Ooooh, suge... Ooooh..." She moaned.

Then we heard footsteps coming down the hall and we both tensed up and went still. The hardwood floor was creaking loudly. The footsteps got closer and closer to mom's door and I panicked when I realized I hadn't locked it.

Jumping off mom, I dove under her bed. Only seconds later, the door opened and light from the hallway poured into mom's room.

It was grandpa. Being slightly senile he'd mistaken mom's room for the bathroom, which was next door. Mom wrapped herself in her blanket and escorted him out. Then came back and locked the door.

"Dammit, suge, we nearly got caught!"

Amazingly, my cock had stayed hard throughout the entire ordeal. Actually, in a perverse way, it'd turned me on, thinking of grandpa catching me, his grandson, drilling his daughter. Wonder what the old man would have done... Probably would have been turned on. I bet he wanted to fuck her, too.

Shit, maybe he even did. Was he included in mom's number? I again wondered.

"Suge, when he's done in the bathroom, you gotta get out!"

"No can do." I replied, crawling out from under the bed.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not done."

I unwrapped the blanket from mom's body and gently pushed her back to the bed. Swiftly I mounted and penetrated her again. Maybe it was the fear or tension, I don't know, but her pussy felt even hotter and tighter than it had before, maybe even ever. I only lasted a few strokes before coming.

This time, though, she didn't come after I shot my load into her. Instead, she scolded me a bit and told me to get out. She seemed genuinely mad.

"Sorry." I said, stepping back into my pajama bottoms.

"It's alright. Let's just be normal mom and son for the rest of this visit, ok? This is too risky."

"Okay. One last kiss, maybe?

"One, and I'm serious, ONE, last kiss."

We French kissed for a few seconds, but it wasn't the usual explosive type. I could tell mom wasn't comfortable being with me here. And I guess that's understandable. It was her parents' house after all, and I was her son, and I did just have sex with her. I could understand mom's consternation. And so I backed off. And for the rest of the visit we kept our distance.

Things really were complicated with mom. She hadn't totally gotten over her guilt complex regarding our relationship. We lived as husband and wife, but there were times when things got weird. Especially for her.

Although we had sex regularly as clockwork, she was never able to make much eye contact with me during sex. After sex, too, sometimes she'd break down crying. I'd hold her, whisper comforting words into her ear. But I could tell it was hard for her to accept. Which probably shouldn't be surprising. How many women in their 40's live with their grown son and have a sexual relationship with him? Probably not many. There wasn't anyone she could talk to about it, and, like me, that was extremely difficult for her.

Like most women I'm sure she wanted to gossip about her boyfriend to her sister and gal pals, "Sex in the City" style, but she couldn't. It was almost as though she and I were totally alone. And I think that got to her, probably more so than me.

I did really love her, though, my mom. It wasn't all about sex with her. We'd sit for hours in bed, talking about everything and anything. Since we'd been together I'd gotten to know her not just as a sexual being but as a person. I'd gotten to know all her weird ticks. How she meticulously arranged items in the refrigerator. All her dietary habits. Her favorite movies, music, TV shows, and books. What type of toothpaste she used. How she styled her hair at different points in the day. Everything.

I highly admired the person she was. How she'd worked her way up from being a teenage mother to one of the most successful real estate people in the Coastal Bend. I loved everything about her, the way she talked, how she'd cock her head to the side when she laughed, how her hips swayed as she walked, the way she wore her makeup, her taste in clothes...

Speaking of her clothes, it seemed that being with me had brought out something in her. Something naughty. She still wore the same business attire at work, but at home and on weekends she started dressing way sluttier, which I loved.

She'd wear these low cut tops and super short jean skirts. Those black tights that are so in fashion, too, which turn me on like hell. She also wore lots of sheer nylon stockings which also drove me nuts. It was hard for me to keep my hands off her in public when she dressed like that. Especially when I'd notice other guys checking her out.

We both hated having to keep everything secret. We hated having to hide it, to act like we were criminals. So what if we chose to be lovers? Whose business was it? There were serious things going on in the world. There were wars, murders, and corrupt politicians doing far worse than anything we were doing.

We wanted to be out and proud lovers, able to stroll down the street or beach holding hands. And that's what we did when we'd take weekend trips down to South Padre Island or Mexico. We'd go around, arm and arm, holding hands, kissing in public. She looked so much younger than her age and was so damn hot that no one ever looked at us funny.

How we ever wished we could be like that all the time. Maybe doing so could also help mom with her guilt complex. I don't know. I had guilty feelings about it, too, sometimes, but I think the whole thing was harder for her. Maybe us being in a more open environment, being able to more freely express ourselves would help alleviate that. I think that was probably the biggest reason why I so eagerly anticipated going to Hong Kong. Maybe there we could really be free.

When the day to leave for Hong Kong came, I was so excited that I could barely sleep the night before and almost wasn't awoken by my cell phone alarm. Groggily I stumbled out of bed and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Mom was already up and flying around our room gathering up last minute things to pack.

I figured she'd have like ten bags, but she'd only packed two. Just clothes and the essentials. I liked that about mom. She wasn't super high-maintenance, such as my ex and other girls I'd been with.

We ate a quick breakfast and took a cab to the airport, where we caught a connection to Houston. At Houston we had to wait a couple hours for our flight, but that was okay. We killed time at a bar, kicked back a couple cold ones, and had some decent burritos at a restaurant. Finally it was time to go.

I'd never flown a lot, only a couple short flights to Houston and Dallas. I'd never been on a big aircraft, either, and our plane was massive. The thing was like a flying building, must have seated over 200 people.

The few times I flew prior were all coach. And I must say that the change to first class wasn't an imposition at all. No sir. Didn't take much getting used to. The seats were huge and comfy. Plenty of leg room, and I really liked the large screen monitors we had to watch and listen to stuff. There must have been like a thousand TV and music channels on them.

First class definitely had better food, too. For dinner we had some honey chicken and rice thing that was scrumptious. And shortly after take-off they began to ply us with complimentary wines and champagne and fancy beers that flowed non-stop throughout the flight. Eventually mom and I were both pretty toasted.

Mom had the window seat. I leaned over to her and began to run my hand along her sheer stocking covered thigh. She was wearing a microscopic black jean mini that left nothing to the imagination, but my imagination was running wild. I leaned over and began to whisper into her ear: