"Goodness, Rox, he was just masturbating," Arianna told me quietly, licking her ice cream cone in a delightfully inappropriate way, getting our table all kinds of looks. Old habits die hard.
"Yeah, to my
movie, Ari," I pointed out, breaking off pieces of my empty waffle cup, dark and flimsy with melted ice cream. I munched on a few pieces, swallowing hard. Shame and guilt teamed up on my stomach, the ice cream in my belly stirring uneasily. "I shouldn't have told him about my career, even if I am
I had peeked into his room three days ago to see if there was anything wrong, as he'd dashed out of the living room in such a hurry after sitting silent throughout the entire evening. He hadn't heard me open the door, his headphones over his ears. And I'd caught him, stroking himself, with a video of me
getting doggyfucked on his computer screen! My maternal instincts screamed for me to storm in, unplug his computer, and toss it out in the street. But I didn't—couldn't, frozen by shock and disgrace and intr—
"You know he was going to find out eventually," Arianna said, thankfully, interrupting my thoughts. I wasn't too sure if I wanted to finish it. Her platinum blond hair fell in her heart-shaped face. Forty-two, and looked as if she hadn't aged a day over thirty. She'd yet
to feature in a single MILF film. "Better from you than his friends, right?"
"You're right," I said, and she was. She was always right.
"What's the matter with him . . ." Arianna trailed off, making a quick jerking motion with her hand, and finished saying "to your videos, anyway?"
I felt my eyes snap open with surprise, though I shouldn't have been. I had featured in some pretty freaky scenes in my day, but Arianna had been several times worse. There was a reason why she was—and still is—heralded as the "Queen of Taboo."
"Because he's my son
?" I almost yelled, the waffle cup crumbling in my startled grasp.
"Haven't you ever heard of Freedom of Love, Rox?" Arianna said, apparently not bothered by my tone. "Besides, you and I both have done incest films," she went back to her cone, licking slowly and seductively around her mountain of ice cream.
"But those were fake!" I said as hushed as my frustration would allow.
"But you did
say that hearing that guy call you 'Mom' turned you on," Arianna winked, smiling wickedly.
I blushed, lowering my head. I felt my pussy twinge, and images of Zander, my darling son, stroking himself to my videos returned. Fresh and vivid, as if I were peeking into his bedroom all over again. No
, a voice chastised. You can't think like that, he's your son!
"How big is his cock . . .?" She asked carefully, but it did her no good.
"Jesus, Ari, it's my—"
"Son? Yeah, I know. So how big is it?"
"God . . ." I shook my head, wishing I could hide my face in my ample cleavage without getting strange looks. An old man sitting at a table next to us seemed to beg me to do it with his eyes. "I don't know, Ari . . . he's probably Peter North big?" I answered, my voice clear with shame and uncertainty. Of course, Arianna's face brightened. Christ
, I thought. This is such an inappropriate conversation for an Ice Cream shop. Even if we are outside.
"Hot!" She squealed, squirming in her seat.
"Seriously, Ari," I said, feeling a weak smile creep up the corners of my lips. "I don't know why I still talk to you."
"That's because I bring out your inner sicko," Ari grinned, slurping up the last bit of her ice cream cone.
· » · « · » · «· · » · « · » · «·
Later on that day, I had watched him, again, stroking himself to another one of my videos. It had been one of my early ones, from the 80s, when I was still young and thin, my hair done up in the classic Farrah Fawcett do. I suddenly felt self-conscious, ashamed of how much I'd let myself go. Arianna had said that my new weight made me look more appealing, more voluptuous, and the amorous stares I still got when I walked in the super market confirmed that.
Zander sat with his back to me, headphones covering his ears, slumped down in his desk chair. He swiveled slightly from right to left while his hand stroked along his engorged length, his mouth slightly agape, eyes fixed on my naked, screwed body on his computer screen.
Who the hell was I kidding? It made me hot. Hotter than the one incestuous scene Arianna and I did all those years ago, hotter than being called "Mom" while my pretend-son plowed my slutty, needy cunt. Because now, I had my own real
son, who apparently desired me, stroking his beautiful cock with sweet abandon. What better opportunity than this?
I thought, slipping into his bedroom and creeping up behind him. I became excited, my nipples growing firm, my panties absolutely ruined, the sights and sounds of my baby boy stroking himself unleashing a newfound nastiness within me. All I could think about was shoving that cock of his into my mouth, and showering myself in his cum.
I slowly kneeled, reaching over the back of his chair and snatching off his headphones, whilst swiveling his chair toward me. Horror widened his eyes, every inch of his exposed flesh flushed with shameful crimson. His mouth fell completely open, his chest rising and falling with panic. His hand slackened around his shaft.
I almost backed down, feeling like I had made a grave mistake, but I had gotten this far. There was no sense in turning back. I couldn't
. And so I took him into my hand, his shaft already slick with precum and saliva.
And he froze, as if he'd forgotten to breathe.
I stroked him, his cock slipping easily in my hands.
Finally, he relaxed, though his expression was still one of uncertainty. He moaned as I continued, chewing his bottom lip, looking right scrumptious.
I spat on it, saliva sliding down his head, down my fingers, and onto his balls. I stroked harder, faster, a silent hunger for cock swirling within me. I took him into my mouth, sliding my lips down to his base, feeling his head pulse in the back of my throat. My experience shone through like sunlight through gray skies. He moaned, squirming beneath me. I bobbed on him, his hot length slipping in and out of my mouth, tongue sliding against the underside of his cock. My mouth crested the tip, and I slurped, savoring the bittertang of his precum. The taste shot a an arrow of electricity through my cunt, warm, tingling pleasure exploding into my thighs.
"Mom . . ." He whispered, and my mouth parted from him with a pop
, a string of saliva connecting us. The word did wonders on my nerves. "I'm . . ."
I knew what was coming, and I lifted my coral tank top half-way, thankful that I was bra-less. I'd get to try one of my famous tricks on him. My son watched me with half-closed eyes, he watched me pull my shirt over his cock, felt his cock slip in-between his horny mother's tits, and watched the bulbous, purpling head of his cock peek up in my cleavage.
I jounced my tits on his cock, squeezing them together, my eyes watching his tongue slide over his lips, his eyebrows drawn together. He bucked his hips against me, both of his hands tangled in his dark hair.
"Fuck!" He moaned, discretion abandoned.
"You're going to come all over your mommy's tits, hm? Gonna cover me in your fucking jizz?" I bounced harder, feeling a sharp twinge in my pussy. My pussy throbbed, and I could feel my juices trickle hotly down my thighs.
"Damn . . . ma . . ."
"Come all over these tits, Zander. Come all over your mama's filthy fucking tits!"
And before long he'd spurted, ropes of thick, hot cum stringing against my neck, my chin, my tits. Lovely. His body jerked, pleasure jolting his hips upward, the underside of his cock hot against the curve of my neck.
I rose to my feet, smoothing a finger along my cum-slick cleavage, and sucked off his sperm. I saw his cock twitch, his lips sucking in a sharp breath, and I felt my mouth grin, accomplished. I turned, and padding bare feet out of his bedroom, giving him my best walk.
, yes," I heard him say quietly. I shook my head.
This was merely the beginning
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