Alex never imagined a stupid fire alarm prank would upend his entire world.

It was a crisp Thursday afternoon in December, and the school had dismissed everyone early after the system malfunctioned. At 18, Alex was in his senior year—tall, lean from track, with his mother’s hazel eyes and a quiet intensity that made girls notice him. He drove home without a second thought, looking forward to an empty house and some gaming time.

But as he rounded the corner onto their quiet cul-de-sac, he spotted a black SUV parked boldly in the driveway. It looked familiar—wait, wasn’t that Mr. Thompson’s? The Thompsons lived down the street. He was Dad’s golf buddy, the one who always hosted barbecues and swapped stories about their college days.

A cold knot formed in Alex’s stomach. Why would Mr. Thompson be here in the middle of the day?

Suspicion prickled at him. Instead of pulling in, he parked two houses down and killed the engine. He slipped out, heart already thudding, and crept along the hedge line toward the living-room windows. The curtains were drawn most of the way, but a two-inch gap gave him a perfect view.

His mother, Linda—forty-eight, still breathtaking with her hourglass figure, long auburn waves, and soft, full lips—was straddling Bill Thompson on the wide sectional couch. Her navy pencil skirt was bunched high around her waist, exposing the creamy swell of her bare ass as she rose and fell on him. Her silky white blouse hung open, her black lace bra cupping her heavy breasts as they bounced with every motion. A pair of lacy black panties lay crumpled on the hardwood floor.

Bill sat back, shirt unbuttoned, hands greedily kneading Linda’s ass cheeks, spreading them with each downward grind she made.

The sounds reached Alex through the slightly open window: wet rhythmic slaps, deep masculine grunts, and his mother’s breathless, needy moans.

“Oh God, yes… fuck me deeper, Bill,” she gasped, her head tipped back, auburn hair swaying wildly like a cascade of fire. Her face was flushed, lips parted in raw ecstasy, eyes half-lidded with lust.

“That’s it, baby. Ride me just like that,” Bill growled, his voice thick. “You’re so fucking wet.”

Alex’s hand shook as he pulled out his phone and hit record, angling the lens through the gap. The video captured everything in cruel high definition: the flex of her thighs, the way her ass rippled each time she sank down fully onto him, the sheen of sweat glistening between her full, heaving breasts. Her body moved with fluid grace, hips circling and grinding, her curves undulating in a hypnotic rhythm.

What the hell am I doing? Alex thought, his breath shallow. This is my mom—my own mother—fucking another man right in our living room. Dad’s friend, no less. I should burst in, stop this… but I can’t look away. Her moans… the way she’s losing herself… it’s turning me on. Fuck, why is this making me hard?

Her pace quickened, her moans climbing higher, more desperate. “I’m so close… oh fuck, don’t stop… that’s it, right there!”

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, slapping her ass lightly, the sound echoing sharply. “Let me feel that tight pussy clench around me. Scream for me, baby—show me how bad you want it.”

Her body writhed atop him, breasts jiggling wildly, back arching as she impaled herself deeper. Her face contorted in bliss—cheeks rosy, mouth open in a silent cry that turned vocal. “Ahhh—yes! I’m cumming… cumming!” She shuddered violently, her whole body quaking, ass clenching and releasing in spasms as waves of orgasm ripped through her. Her hair whipped around her shoulders, sticking to her sweat-dampened skin.

Alex shifted uncomfortably, feeling the insistent throb in his jeans. This is wrong—watching her like this, getting off on it. But look at her… she’s beautiful, so alive, so… sexual. I’ve never seen her this way. Dad’s friend is buried inside her, and she’s loving every second. Why does that make me want… more?

His mom slowed, panting heavily, then smiled down at Bill with a wicked, sated glow. “Now it’s your turn, baby,” she purred, starting to roll her hips in slow, deliberate circles, her voice husky. “Give me that hot cum.”

He groaned, gripping her tighter. “Fuck, you’re incredible...”

A dozen hard thrusts later, he bucked up into her, grunting deep in his chest. “Yes, baby!”

She collapsed onto Bill. They stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing hard, her forehead resting against his as he stroked her back.

He sighed regretfully. “Damn, I’m sorry it had to be such a quickie today. Meeting ran long. But next time—promise—I’ll make it up to you. I’ll have you screaming for hours.”

Linda laughed softly, kissing his neck. “You’d better. A girl has expectations.”

The words hung in the air, but Alex didn’t process them fully yet—his mind was still reeling from the scene, the heat pooling in his groin despite the betrayal churning in his gut.

He kept recording as his mom finally slid off Bill’s lap. A thin trail of cum followed her movement, glistening on her inner thigh. Without hesitation, she knelt between his legs, leaned in, and licked him clean—slow, deliberate swipes of her tongue from base to tip, her hair falling forward like a curtain, her lips wrapping around the head with a soft hum.

“Mmm,” she murmured, eyes half-lidded. “I love how you taste. Always so good.”

He chuckled, threading fingers through her hair. “You’re going to get me hard again if you keep that up.”

She gave the head one last playful kiss before standing, buttoning her blouse, smoothing her skirt and stepping into her discarded panties. Bill tucked himself away, buttoned up, and they shared a lingering goodbye kiss at the door.

Alex ducked low as the SUV backed out. Only when it turned the corner did he straighten, pocket the phone, and let himself in through the side. His pulse still hammering from what he’d just witnessed. The house was quiet except for the faint clink of glass—Mom was at the sink, rinsing a water tumbler. She hadn’t heard him yet.

Linda turned when the door clicked shut, and her eyes widened in genuine surprise. Her auburn hair was still wild, tousled waves falling messily over her shoulders, a few strands clinging to the faint sheen of perspiration on her neck. Her navy pencil skirt sat slightly off center, twisted just enough to hint at how hastily she’d yanked it back into place. The top two buttons of her silky white blouse were still undone, revealing a glimpse of black lace beneath. Her cheeks carried a lingering flush, her lips fuller and redder than usual, as if they’d been kissed hard only minutes ago.

“Alex!” she said, voice a little too bright, a little too quick. She set the glass down and smoothed her skirt with both hands, trying to center it. “You’re… you’re home early, sweetie. Everything okay at school?”

“Yeah,” he answered, dropping his backpack by the island. His tone was even, but his eyes never left her face. “Faulty fire alarm. Whole school got sent home.”

“Oh, right. Lucky you.” She laughed lightly, too lightly, turning back to the sink as if busywork could hide the tremor in her fingers. “Get an unexpected half-day.”

Alex leaned against the counter, arms folded. “So… why was Mr. Thompson here?”

The question landed like a stone. Linda froze for a split second, then forced a casual shrug as she dried her hands on a towel. “Bill? Oh, he just stopped by to drop off your dad’s golf glove. He left it at the club last weekend. No big deal.”

Alex watched her closely—the way her gaze flicked away, the slight hitch in her breath. He pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the screen.

“I know, Mom.”

The towel slipped from her fingers. She turned slowly, all the color draining from her flushed face. “You… what do you mean, you know?”

“I saw his SUV. Got curious. Looked through the living-room window.” His voice was quiet, almost conversational. “I saw everything.”

Linda’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes filling with tears. “Oh God… Alex, please… your father can’t ever find out. It would destroy him. Destroy everything.”

Alex tilted his head. “Was it just a one-time thing?”

She swallowed hard, nodding too eagerly. “Yes. Completely. A stupid mistake.”

He gave a soft, knowing chuckle. “I heard him say he’d make it up to you next time. Sounds like there’s been more than one ‘mistake.’”

Her shoulders sagged. Tears spilled over. “Please, honey… please don’t tell your dad. I’m begging you. It’ll never happen again, I swear.”

“Do you love him?” Alex asked, stepping closer.

“No!” The answer came instantly, fierce. “God, no. It’s not love.”

“Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

“No. Just… just Bill. It started with a kiss one night after a neighborhood party. We’d both had too much wine, and… things got out of hand. I never meant for it to go this far.”

She reached out, clutching his sleeve. “Alex, I’ll end it today. I promise. Just please keep this between us. I’ll do anything.”

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. “Anything?”

Hope flickered in her wet eyes. “Anything you want, sweetie. Name it.”

“I want what Mr. Thompson had.”

Linda blinked, confusion giving way to dawning horror. “I… I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.”

Her breath caught. “But… I’m your mother!”

Alex shrugged, the grin never wavering. “And I don’t see how you have much of a choice right now.”

Silence stretched between them. Her chest rose and fell quickly, tears tracking down her cheeks. Finally, she gave a tiny, defeated nod. “Okay.”

“Strip,” he said simply.

She glanced around the sunlit kitchen as if someone might walk in. “Right… right here?”

“Yes.”

Her fingers trembled as they moved to the remaining buttons of her blouse. One by one, they slipped free, revealing inch after inch of smooth skin and the delicate black lace bra that cradled her full, heavy breasts. She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the tile floor.

Then the zipper of her skirt. The soft rasp sounded loud in the quiet room. The navy fabric loosened and slid down her hips, pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it, standing now in only her black lace bra and matching panties—panties he watched her putting on just moments earlier.

Alex’s gaze roamed over her openly. The elegant curve of her waist, the soft swell of her belly that spoke of maturity rather than flaw, the generous flare of her hips, the long, toned legs he’d never truly appreciated until this moment. Her skin glowed with the faint afterglow of her earlier climax. She was breathtaking.

“God, Mom… you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, almost to himself.

A fresh tear slipped free, but she didn’t cover herself.

“Keep going,” he said.

Her hands moved behind her back. The clasp clicked open, and the bra loosened. She held the cups in place for a moment, then let the straps slide down her arms. Her breasts spilled free—heavy, perfectly shaped, with dusky pink nipples already drawn tight from nerves or the cool air. She let the bra drop.

“Wow,” he couldn’t restrain his own lust as he took in the sight of his mother’s beautiful breasts.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and eased them down, bending slightly as they slid over her hips and thighs. When she straightened, she was completely naked. The faint scent of sex lingered.

Alex drank her in. “Turn around.”

Slowly, she complied, giving him the view of her back—the graceful line of her spine, the dimples above her rounded ass, the subtle jiggle as she shifted weight.

She glanced over her shoulder, voice small. “Now what… you want to have sex with me?”

He considered it, stepping closer until he was right behind her. His hands settled lightly on her bare hips, thumbs brushing the soft skin there. She tensed but didn’t pull away. Their faces were inches apart when he leaned in; he could smell her familiar perfume mixed with the unmistakable musk of recent arousal.

“No,” he said softly, feeling the power shift settle firmly in his grasp. “Not yet. I don’t want sloppy seconds.”

Her breath caught in her chest.

“Go take a shower,” he continued, eyes locked on hers. “Clean up for me.”

She nodded numbly.

He released her hips. As she started toward the hallway, he gave her ass a gentle, possessive smack. The flesh rippled softly under his palm.

“Don’t forget your clothes,” he added with a smirk.

Linda paused, turned back, and bent to gather the discarded blouse, skirt, bra, and panties from the floor, clutching them to her chest. Then she walked away—fully naked, hips swaying with each step, the elegant curve of her back leading down to the firm, rounded cheeks of her ass, thighs brushing together slightly. Her auburn hair cascaded messily down her bare shoulders, catching the light as she disappeared around the corner.

Just before she vanished up the stairs, Alex called after her.

“And Mom? When you’re done… wear something sexy for me.”

She looked back over her shoulder, hazel eyes filled with quiet resignation, and gave a single, slow nod before continuing upstairs.

“Alex?” Linda’s voice drifted down the stairs, soft and uncertain. “I’m… I’m ready.”

He took the steps slowly, savoring the anticipation, his heart pounding harder with every one. When he pushed open the door to her bedroom—the master suite he’d rarely entered since he was a kid—she was standing at the foot of the king-sized bed, arms crossed loosely over her stomach as if trying to shield herself.

She wore a matching set of delicate black lace lingerie: a push-up bra that lifted her full breasts into perfect cleavage, and high-cut panties that hugged the curve of her hips. The sheer fabric did little to hide the dark shadow between her thighs or the stiff peaks of her nipples. Freshly showered, her skin glowed, auburn hair now brushed into soft waves that framed her face. She looked stunning, but the reluctance in her posture was unmistakable—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes downcast.

Alex stopped in the doorway, drinking her in. The sight sent a fresh surge of blood to his already-hard cock. He could feel the power now, solid and intoxicating.

“Is that what you wear for Mr. Thompson?” he asked, voice low.

Linda’s cheeks flushed deeper. She shook her head. “No.”

“Then put something else on. Make it really special.”

She let out a shaky breath. “You’re not making this easy, Alex.”

He smiled, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “You made this mess yourself, Mom.”

Her head lowered in defeat. Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the walk-in closet that adjoined her en-suite bathroom. He heard drawers opening, hangers sliding. A minute later she emerged, and the air left his lungs.

She wore a sheer red babydoll nightie—transparent crimson chiffon that floated around her curves like a whisper. The matching sheer panties beneath were barely more than a suggestion, the dark triangle of her trim auburn curls visible through the fabric. The hem skimmed the tops of her thighs, and the deep V-neck plunged between her breasts, held together only by a thin satin ribbon tied in a bow. Her nipples pressed visibly against the delicate material. She looked like pure sex—elegant, mature, and utterly fuckable.

“That’s much better,” he said, voice thick. “God, Mom… you’re so fucking sexy.”

She stood there, arms at her sides now, resignation etched in every line of her body. “So… now what?”

“Come here.”

She crossed the room slowly, the babydoll fluttering around her hips with each step. When she was close enough, he reached out, hands settling on the warm flesh of her waist. He pulled her gently until their bodies almost touched, taking a long moment to simply look—her hazel eyes, the soft fullness of her lips, the rise and fall of her chest under the sheer red.

Then he leaned in and kissed her.

It started soft, almost tentative, but the moment her lips parted on a quiet gasp he deepened it, tasting her. His hands slid down to cup her ass through the chiffon, squeezing the firm flesh. She stiffened at first, but when his thumbs traced slow circles she let out a small, involuntary moan.

He moved one hand up, slipping under the babydoll to palm her breast, rolling the hard nipple between thumb and forefinger. Another soft moan escaped her, vibrating against his mouth. He felt her body respond despite herself—her hips shifting closer, a subtle tremor in her thighs. The knowledge that he was turning his own mother on sent a dark thrill straight to his cock.

“Undress me,” he murmured against her lips.

Her hands shook slightly as she tugged his shirt over his head, then unbuckled his belt. Jeans and boxers followed, pooling at his feet until he stood naked, cock hard and jutting proudly toward her. She stared at it for a long moment, lips parted.

“Do you want to touch it?” he asked.

She didn’t move.

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have to keep your secret if I don’t want to, Mom.”

Her hand rose slowly, fingers wrapping gently around his shaft. The contact drew a low moan from his throat. Her touch was warm, tentative, but perfect.

“Good girl.” He guided her down until she sank to her knees on the plush carpet. “That’s it, Mom… kiss it.”

She leaned forward, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to the head. Then another. When he threaded fingers through her hair and urged her closer, she opened her mouth and took him in.

The sensation was overwhelming—wet heat, the swirl of her tongue, the sight of his mother’s beautiful lips stretched around his cock. Holy fuck, Alex thought, dizzy with it. My own mom is on her knees sucking me. Those same lips that kissed me goodnight for years are sliding up and down my dick. She’s tasting me, moaning around me…

She found a rhythm—slow at first, then deeper, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed. Saliva glistened on his shaft; soft, wet sounds filled the room. Every time she looked up at him through her lashes, his hips jerked involuntarily.

He was getting too close. With a reluctant groan he pulled her up by the arms.

“Not yet,” he said, voice rough. “I want everything Mr. Thompson had.”

He climbed onto the bed—his parents’ bed—and...