"You're not seriously considering it, are you?" Max Shelton’s best friend, Jake, leaned over the lunch table, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and excitement.

Max shoved a fry into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before responding. "It's a free pass, man. How do I not consider it?"

Jake's grin grew as he leaned closer, whispering, "You know it's like winning the lottery, right? But with boobs!"

The cafeteria's cacophony of clanging trays and chattering students seemed to fade as Max contemplated his newfound power. The "Free-use" program had been the talk of the school, a government initiative that rewarded heroic acts with unlimited sexual access to any adult woman, any time, any place, so long as no children are present. The program was an attempt to boost young men–who by just about every metric, were falling way behind their female counterparts. It was controversial, but Max's recent headline-grabbing incident–he single-handedly stopped a school shooting in its tracks–had earned him the golden ticket–the first and only recipient at Fremont High.

Max’s mind raced with scenarios, each more outrageous than the last. Mrs.Perkins, his hot English teacher? The librarian with the tight skirts? His mom’s friend Linda? The possibilities were endless, and his hormones were screaming at him to explore them. But then he remembered his mom, Brenda. A stern, yet loving presence, she'd always been a moral compass in his life. He knew she'd be furious about the program, but he needed her advice.

Walking home, the weight of the pass in his pocket felt heavier than any textbook. Brenda would be home by now, probably starting dinner in the kitchen. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he never thought he'd have with his mom.

"Hey, Mom," Max called out as he stepped through the front door, the scent of her roast chicken wafting through the hallway.

"Max, honey, is that you?" Brenda's voice floated from the kitchen, the sound of pans clanging against the stove a familiar symphony of home.

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, his heart racing.

42-year-old Brenda Shelton was a dead ringer for the actress Alberta Watson. Her brunette hair was tied back in a messy bun; a few loose strands framing her face as she turned to greet him. Her usual stern expression softened into a proud smile when she saw him, her full figure outlined by the loose-fitting grey t-shirt that hinted at the fullness of her breasts.

"How was school today?" she said, wiping her hands on a towel. "Come here. Let me give you a hug."

Max felt his face flush as he stepped into her embrace, her arms warm and comforting. He knew he had to bring up the pass now, before his nerve deserted him.

"Mom," he began, his voice cracking slightly. "They rewarded me with the free-use pass."

The room went silent—the only sound was the ticking of the kitchen clock. Brenda's arms stiffened around him, and Max could feel the tension rising. He pulled back, looking into her eyes, searching for understanding.

"Max, I can't believe they gave you that," Brenda said, her voice tight. "That program is... it's just wrong. It's degrading to women. It turns us into... objects."

Max nodded, his cheeks burning. He hadn't thought of it that way before. "Yeah, I know. But... I don't know what to do with it."

Brenda sighed, setting the towel down. "You're a good boy, Max. You don't need to do anything with it. Just because you can, doesn't mean you should."

"But everyone's expecting me to," Max mumbled, his eyes unconsciously drifting to his mom's chest.

Brenda caught his gaze and snapped, "Max! Stop that right now! I'm your mother!"

He jerked his gaze back up to hers, feeling guilty. "Sorry, Mom. It's just... it's a weird situation."

"I know it's hard," Brenda said, her tone softening. "You're 18, and I get that you have... needs. But that doesn't mean you should treat any woman that way."

Max nodded, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. He had hoped for a different reaction from his mom, something that would make the pass feel less like a ticking time bomb in his pocket.

"Look, Max," she continued, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You're a hero, and you don't need to prove yourself to anyone with this. Use this as a way to talk to women, to get to know them better. Maybe you'll find someone who's actually interested in you for who you are, not because of some government program."

Max looked into his mother's eyes, seeing the love and concern. He knew she was right, but the temptation was too strong. He couldn't help but think of the power he now held, and the women he could be with.

"But if you do decide to use it," she added firmly, "you make sure you're a gentleman about it. No forcing anyone, and definitely no using it on me."

Max blinked, the thought of using the pass on his mother never crossing his mind. "Mom, I would never... "

Brenda's eyes searched his, and she nodded. "Good. I trust you. Now go wash up for dinner."

Max retreated to his room, the weight of the conversation pressing on him. He sat on his bed, holding the pass in his hand. The glossy card felt like a forbidden fruit, and he wondered if he could ever truly ignore its allure. As he stared at it, his thoughts swirling, he heard his mother's footsteps down the hall, the sound of her heels on the hardwood floor a stark reminder of the woman she was outside of just being his mom.

With a sigh, he picked up his phone and dialed Jake's number. "Dude," he said as soon as his friend answered. "I just talked to my mom about the pass."

Jake's laugh echoed through the line. "And?"

"And she's not happy about it," Max replied, his voice low.

"Fuck that, man," Jake said without hesitation. "You're a hero! You should go wild! And hey, maybe start with Mrs. Momma Bear herself!"

Max's stomach twisted at the suggestion. "Come on, Jake. That's messed up."

"What, you don't find your mom hot?" Jake goaded. "You can totally tell she's got it going on. And think about it, she's totally off-limits now. It'd be like the ultimate rebellion!"

Max didn't know how to respond. The idea of using the pass on his mother was a line he never thought he'd consider crossing. Yet, the thought lingered, a dark curiosity that whispered seductively in the back of his mind.

As if reading his thoughts, Jake said, "Trust me, Max. You won't regret it. Just remember, it's not your fault. It's the government's. You're just living your best life."

Max ended the call, still conflicted. He took a deep breath and stood, heading back to the kitchen. Brenda was at the sink, her back to him. Her full figure was accentuated by her tight-fitting jeans and t-shirt, her breasts straining against the fabric. He approached her from behind, the pass burning a hole in his pocket.

Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out and grabbed her breasts, the soft weight of them in his hands surprising him. She gasped, spinning around, her eyes wide with shock.

"Max! What the hell?" she exclaimed, slapping his hands away.

He took a step back, his heart racing. "I... I'm sorry, Mom."

Her expression shifted from anger to disappointment. "Is this what you're going to do with that pass?" she asked, her voice strained. "Is this what you're going to become?"

Max felt a pang of guilt. "I don't know. I just... "

Brenda sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Look, if you're going to use it on me, I can't stop you. But I want you to know that it's not what I want. You need to respect me, even if you're just using me for... that."

He nodded, his throat dry. "Okay."

"But if you do this," she continued, "you have to follow some rules. No dirty talk, no moaning and groaning, and for God's sake, no doing it in front of your father. And remember, I'm still your mother."

Max nodded again, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. "Okay, I'll remember."

With a cold stare, Brenda turned back to the sink. "Good," she said flatly. "Now, if you're going to do this, get it over with."

Max approached her slowly, his hands shaking as he reached for the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms, allowing him to pull it over her head. Her bra followed, revealing her large, natural breasts with dark areolae and erect nipples that stood out against her pale skin. He took a moment to appreciate the sight, the heat in his pants growing.

As he began to kiss and caress her, Brenda's body stiffened. Her voice was monotone as she said, "Remember, normal conversation only."

Max nodded, his mouth dry. He began to undo her jeans, his eyes locked on hers as he lowered them to the floor, revealing a pair of plain white panties that did nothing to prepare him for the thick, dark bush that lay beneath. He felt his cock twitch in anticipation as he slid the fabric down her legs.

Her pussy was a surprise, very different from the women he'd seen online. It was hairy, the scent of her arousal mingling with the aroma of dinner. He knew this was wrong, but he couldn't deny his desire. He was about to fuck his mother, and the reality was more intense than his wildest fantasies.

Brenda sighed heavily, resigning herself to the situation. "How was school today?" she asked, her voice strained as she tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

Max's mind was racing, trying to remember the mundane details of his day amidst the chaos of his thoughts. "It was... it was fine," he stuttered, his voice thick with lust. "I just couldn't focus with the pass."

"I know," she said, her voice softer now. "But you still have homework to do."

He nodded, his hands shaking as he reached for her waist, pulling her closer. "Yeah, but Dad won't be home for an hour, right?"

"That's true," she said, her eyes searching his. "But remember, no dirty talk."

He nodded again, trying to keep his thoughts in check as he kissed her neck, his cock pressing against her thigh. She felt so warm, so soft. He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted this until now.

With trembling hands, he slid his boxers down, his cock springing free.

"Max, this isn't right," Brenda murmured, her voice strained with a mix of anger and arousal. "But if you're going to do this, you can't get me pregnant."

Max nodded, his mind racing. "I know, Mom."

"Good," she said, her voice tight. "Now, tell me about your math test."

Max leaned in, his mouth brushing against hers as he spoke, his cock pressing against the softness of her stomach. "I got a B+. I studied a lot."

Her hands found his shoulders, gripping them firmly as she guided him to the kitchen floor, the tiles cold against their bare skin. She lay back, her breasts rising and falling with each heavy breath she took.

"I'm proud of you for that," she said, her eyes half-lidded. "But disappointed in you for this."

He positioned himself between her legs, her thick bush brushing against his thighs. He felt the tip of his cock graze her wet folds, and he gasped at the sensation.

"Did you eat your lunch today?" she asked, her voice a forced casualness that only served to highlight the tension in the room.

"Yeah, had a burger," he said, his voice strained as he pushed into her.

His eyes widened, and he let out a soft grunt, as she quickly muffled it with a hand. "Don't do that," she scolded, her voice a whisper.

He nodded, his cock disappearing into her tight, wet warmth. Her pussy was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, the hair around it so different from bare, young pussies he'd seen in porn. It was a real, lived-in pussy, and it was fucking amazing.

He began to thrust into her, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. Brenda's eyes were squeezed shut, her face a mask of conflicted emotions. Her legs were spread wide, giving him full access to her body.

"What are we having for dinner?" he managed to ask, his mind struggling to focus on anything but the sensation of her around him.

Her voice was a mix of pleasure and annoyance. "Roast chicken, like I said."

Her hips began to buck up against him, her grip on his shoulders tightening. He could feel her getting wetter, her pussy gripping him like a vice.

The kitchen floor was cold and hard beneath them, unlike the softness of her body. The overhead fan whirred, casting shadows on her face as it swayed slightly above them. The scent of roast chicken wafted from the oven, mixing with the musky scent of their mingled arousal. Brenda's face was a picture of conflicted pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut as she bit her bottom lip to stifle any noises she might make. Her stomach had a slight sag to it, a testament to the years of carrying him and his younger brother. Her thighs were sprinkled with cellulite, and her legs trembled as he moved within her.

Max watched as his young, hard cock slid in and out of her mature, hairy pussy. Her pussy was real, lived-in, and the way it stretched and contracted around him was mesmerizing. Her full, heavy breasts jiggled with each thrust, her nipples erect and begging for his mouth.

The timer on the oven beeped, snapping Max out of his daze. "Dinner's almost ready," Brenda murmured, her voice strained with effort.

He nodded, his strokes becoming more erratic. "I'm... I'm going to cum, Mom."

"Pull out," she whispered, her eyes still closed. "Please don't cum inside me."

But it was too late. His orgasm hit him like a freight train, and he couldn't hold back the moan that escaped his lips as he emptied himself into her.

Her eyes snapped open, and she glared at him. "You weren't supposed to do that."

He pulled out, his cock glistening with their combined fluids. "I'm sorry," he panted, the guilt heavy in his voice.

Brenda sat up, pulling her panties and jeans back into place. "You'd better get cleaned up before your father gets home," she said, her voice shaking. "And you're doing the dishes tonight."

Max nodded, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He grabbed a towel, quickly wiping himself off before pulling his pants back up. The kitchen around them looked like a battleground, with the smell of sex hanging heavy in the air.

As he cleaned up the mess, his mind raced. What had he done? He'd just fucked his mother. He could hear the timer beeping, a reminder that their lives couldn't just pause for this twisted moment of desire.

He glanced over at Brenda, who was busy wiping down the counter, her back to him. Her shoulders were tense, and he could see the outline of her panties through her T-shirt, damp with his cum. Despite her anger, he couldn't help but feel a strange thrill at the sight.

The kitchen door swung open, and his father's booming voice called out, "Honey, I'm home!"

Brenda's eyes met Max's in the mirror, and he saw the fear and disappointment in them. She straightened up, plastering a smile on her face. "Dinner's almost ready, dear," she called out, her voice unnaturally bright.

Max took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He knew this was just the beginning, that the free-use pass would change everything. And as he helped his mother serve dinner, the weight of his secret felt like it was crushing him.

Tom took his seat at the head of the table, a proud smile on his face. "So, Max," he began, slapping him on the shoulder. "I heard about the pass. You must be feeling pretty special, huh?"

Brenda's eyes flashed with anger, but she said nothing. Max nodded, setting a plate of roast chicken in front of his father.

"Yeah, it's... it's pretty wild," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tom took a bite, nodding appreciatively. "I can imagine. So, who's the lucky lady, or should I say, ladies?" he chuckled conspiratorially. 

Max swallowed hard, glancing at his mother. "I’m thinking of some teachers," he began, "and maybe some cheerleaders. And Mrs. Thompson next door."

Tom's eyes lit up. "That's the spirit, son! Take it from me, you've got to strike while the iron's hot!"

Brenda's grip on her napkin tightened, her knuckles white. "Max," she began, her voice low and firm. "You need to be careful with that thing. It's a big responsibility."

Tom chuckled. "Oh, come on, Bren. He's a man now. Let him have some fun," the irony of that statement not escaping either his wife or son, who just moments ago, were frantically rutting on the kitchen floor.

Max felt the tension in the room thicken, like the gravy on his plate. He hadn't meant to tell his dad about the pass, but now it was out in the open, and there was no taking it back.

"But seriously, son," Tom continued, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Be safe, okay?"

Max nodded, his appetite waning. "I will, Dad."

The dinner passed with a tense silence, the clinking of silverware against plates the only sound. Brenda kept her eyes on her food, her mind racing with thoughts of what her son had done in the kitchen moments ago. Max pushed his food around his plate, the guilt and excitement warring within him.

Finally, unable to take the silence any longer, Max excused himself. "I'm not really hungry," he mumbled, standing up. "I think I'll go for a walk."

Tom looked up, his smile fading. "Is everything okay, buddy?"

Max nodded, his eyes on his mother. "Yeah, I just need some fresh air."

Brenda's gaze was a mix of anger and sadness as he left the room. She knew she had to have a serious talk with her husband, to explain what had really happened. But she also knew that Max had made his choice, and she couldn't protect him from the consequences of his actions.

Outside, the cool evening air hit Max's face like a slap. He felt a mix of relief...