I just got back from my second deployment to Afghanistan. I was 27, built like a brick shithouse from all the PT and stress, and hornier than I’d ever been in my life. Twelve months of nothing but my fist and grainy porn on a slow connection will do that to a guy. I was home on leave, visiting family for the first time in years. My mom and dad had split when I was a kid, and right before I enlisted, Mom remarried this guy named Ken—slim, clean-shaven, mid-40s, not a bad-looking dude, but I’d never thought about guys like that.

First morning back, I knocked out a five-mile run in the crisp winter air, came home drenched in sweat, and hopped straight into the shower. Steam filled the bathroom as I scrubbed off the road dust. When I stepped out, towel slung low around my hips, water still dripping down my chest and abs, I padded down the hallway toward my room.

Ken was in the kitchen, coffee in hand. His eyes snapped to me and locked on—trailing over my shoulders, down my cut torso, lingering where the towel barely clung. I wasn’t blind; I noticed.

“Morning, Ken,” I said with a quick nod.

He startled a little, voice catching. “M-morning, Brian.”

I kept walking. A few minutes later, I came back out in jeans and a tight Army tee. He’d made eggs and bacon—smelled damn good. Mom breezed in, purse over her shoulder.

“I’m heading to the mall with Justina. Last-minute shopping, then lunch. You boys have plans?”

“Probably gonna call Becky,” I said, grinning. Mom shot me that classic disapproving look—she hated Becky, but damn, that girl could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.

Ken glanced at her. “I’ll just knock out some chores around the house. How long you think you’ll be?”

“Oh, at least four hours,” Mom said, kissing his cheek before heading out.

Door shut. House quiet.

I grabbed my keys and drove to Becky’s parents’ place. Didn’t go well—she was still pissed about whatever asshole thing I’d said over the phone last time. Fine. I’d survived a year jerking off in a tent; one more night wouldn’t kill me.

Forty-five minutes later, I was back home. As I walked in, faint music drifted down the hall—some slow, sexy R&B—and a soft, feminine voice humming along. My gut twisted. Ken cheating on my mom? Hell no.

I stormed down the hall and kicked open their bedroom door.

Ken spun around in pure terror, hands flying to his chest. He was standing in front of the full-length mirror wearing one of Mom’s sheer black nighties—the short, lacy kind that barely covered anything. A long blonde wig framed his face, makeup surprisingly on point: smoky eyes, red lips. His hands slid slowly up and down his slender, smooth body like he’d been lost in the moment.

“What the fuck?” I barked.

“Oh God, oh God, Brian—what are you doing here?” he squeaked, voice cracking, higher than normal.

“What am I doing here? I heard a woman’s voice—I thought you were cheating on my mom.”

“No! Never! Please, you can’t tell her about this,” he begged, eyes wide and glassy.

I just stared. And… fuck. He looked good. The nightie clung to his narrow waist, flared over hips that were fuller than I’d ever noticed. His legs were shaved smooth, ass round and thick under the lace. My cock twitched hard against my jeans before my brain even caught up.

“How long you been doing this?” I asked, voice lower.

He swallowed. “Years. Since I was a teenager.”

“You look hot,” I said. The words came out before I could stop them.

His painted lips parted. “Really?” A shy, girly giggle escaped.

I stepped closer, pulse hammering. My dick was fully hard now, straining. “That my mom’s outfit?”

“Yeah… it’s hers.”

“Spin for me.”

He hesitated a second, then turned slow and deliberate, arching his back just enough to make that ass pop under the lace.

“Mmm.” I sat in Mom’s vanity chair. “What do I call you right now?”

He bit his glossy lip. “Kendal… if you want.”

“Come here, Kendal. Give me a lap dance.”

“This might be going too far. You’re… you’re my wife’s son.”

I chuckled, dark and low, raking my eyes over him. “Too far? Get that pretty ass over here.”

Something shifted in his eyes—submission, hunger. He crossed the room, hips swaying, and straddled my lap. The nightie rode up as he settled, grinding slow circles against the bulge in my jeans. I gripped his cheeks—full, soft, warm through the lace—and squeezed hard.

“Mmm, fuck,” I groaned.

“You can’t tell her,” he whispered, still rolling his hips.

“I won’t.” I glanced at my watch. “But we’ve got at least two hours.”

He kept grinding. “What are we gonna do with all that time?”

I slid a hand up his smooth back, tangled fingers in the blonde wig, and pulled him into a kiss. Our mouths crashed together—hungry, messy. His lips were soft from gloss, tongue eager and desperate, like he’d been starving for this exact thing for years. We moaned into each other, tongues battling.

He broke the kiss, slid down to his knees between my legs. I peeled off my shirt, showing off the hard-earned muscle. Kendal’s manicured hands roamed my chest, tracing every ridge of my abs until I twitched and laughed.

“Sorry,” he giggled, then leaned in, dragging his tongue slowly over my abs, tasting the faint salt of my skin.

He popped the button on my jeans, tugged them down. My cock sprang free—eight inches, thick, veins pulsing, already leaking at the tip.

“Oh, my God,” Kendal breathed. “Your cock is huge.”

He wrapped both hands around it, stroking slowly, then buried his face in my balls—warm, smooth, heavy. His tongue lapped greedily, sucking one into his mouth, then the other, while his hands pumped my shaft.

“Ohhh fuck, Kendal… that’s perfect.”

He licked a long stripe up my shaft, swirled around the head, eyes locked on mine as he sank down. Painted lips stretched wide, taking me inch by inch. I threaded fingers through the wig, guiding him deeper until he gagged softly but kept going, throat opening for me.

Soon I was fucking his face—hips rocking, hands holding his head steady. Spit ran down his chin, tears smudged his mascara, but his eyes begged for more.

I pulled out, a thick string of saliva connecting us. “I wanna fuck you, Mommy.”

His breath hitched. “Please… call me that again.”

“You want me to fuck your mouth, Mommy?”

He nodded, voice high and needy. “Please, Daddy.”

I stood, moved him so his head hung slightly off the edge of the bed, and fed my cock back into that hot, willing throat. Gripping the wig, I pounded hard and fast—balls slapping his chin, wet gagging sounds filling the room. He clutched my ass, pulling me deeper, tears streaming but never breaking eye contact.

Finally, I pulled out. “Turn around. I need that pussy.”

He scrambled onto the bed on all fours, nightie bunched around his waist, ass up. I spanked him—hard. The pale cheeks jiggled, instantly turning pink.

“Harder, Daddy.”

I rained down smacks until his ass glowed red, each impact making him moan louder. Then I spread him open—smooth, pink, freshly shaved hole winking at me.

“Fuck, Mommy… prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

I dove in, tongue spearing deep, eating him out like I was starving. He bucked back, whimpering, cock leaking onto the sheets. I reached under, stroked his smaller dick in time with my tongue.

“Please—please fuck me, Daddy!”

I grabbed the lube from the nightstand—next to a drawer full of toys that made me smirk. Coated my cock thick, drizzled more over his hole, worked a thumb inside. He was impossibly tight, clenching around me.

I lined up and pressed the fat head against him. He tensed.

“Relax, baby.”

Added more lube, eased in slowly. He gasped, winced, then moaned as I sank deeper—hot, velvet grip swallowing me whole. Bottomed out, balls against his, I paused, letting him adjust.

Then I started moving—long, deep strokes building to a punishing rhythm. The room filled with wet slaps, his high-pitched cries, my grunts.

“Yes, Daddy! Harder!”

I flipped him onto his back, threw his legs over my shoulders, and slammed back in—watching his face contort in pleasure, makeup ruined, wig askew. I jerked his leaking cock in sync.

“Don’t stop—gonna cum—gonna—”

He exploded, ropes of cum splattering his stomach, chest, even hitting his chin and my forearm. The sight of him cumming from my cock inside him pushed me over. I buried deep and unloaded, pumping thick spurts into his ass until it leaked out around me.

I collapsed beside him, both of us panting, sweat-slick.

“That was fucking incredible,” I managed.

Kendal laughed breathlessly. “Yeah… it really was.”

We glanced at the clock—still time. “We should probably clean up before your mom gets home.”

We both grinned, knowing damn well this wouldn’t be the last time.