Friday night, the time when most people were hanging out with their friends and having fun but not me, I was seventeen, a hermit more introverted than a rock hidden in a cave. It sucked for the most part but it did have its perks as a mama's boy.

I found myself sitting on the couch, stealing glances of my mother in her little red dress. I had a thing for her, she was the apple of my eye, and I filed all those immoral thoughts and fantasies in my head into the phase folder. Taboo, unusual, weird, and more, but I just told myself it was nothing more than a phase.

Anyways, I knew what panties she was wearing underneath, I was meticulous with that sort of thing. She had purchased a pack of three recently, two black ones and a red one that would go perfectly under her dress. It was obvious she was wearing it, and I couldn't wait to sniff it and wrap it around my throbbing erection when she got back home.

Would she get it pulled down or aside? Would it be drenched in her juices or have a hint of her boyfriend's cum? It was always fun finding out those answers for a pervert like me. Her scent was intoxicating, it got me harder than anything else could.

She'd been hitting the gym pretty hard, preferring early morning sessions that had her getting home sweaty in her tight outfits that provided me with some eye candy before breakfast. Needless to say, she was a MILF, one with an impossible-to-resist derriere that I was sure her college-aged boyfriend was fondling and burying his face in every chance he got.

Knowing she was going out to have a good time, culminated by spreading her legs or arching her back, and taking every drop of her boyfriend's stamina made me jealous, of course it did, but it wasn't like I could ever take his place. That just wasn't realistic, so I had to envision myself in his position, albeit in a strange, very strange way.

I edged myself while she was out, utilizing all the porn and sexy bookmarks I had compiled throughout the week. I relentlessly stroked myself, stopping just in time to feel an ache, a momentarily punishing one that promised an explosive orgasm upon succumbing to it.

When the lube dried up, I decided to take a break since she was taking longer than usual. I could only imagine where and how they were fucking but I was sure they were matching each other's libido. The only question was if it was crazier, as to say more or less intense than the scenarios I came up with in my perverted, incestuous mind.

I was tired, edging was exhausting, not just on my dick but on my lower body and right arm from sitting and stroking for so long. I was nearly falling asleep by the time I heard the front door open. It startled me into attention, and announced that my reward was home.

I hope it's soaked and creamy, I thought, getting up from my chair and stretching.

Just as I was headed out my bedroom door to welcome her home like a teenager, which I always did with a touch of humor seeing how our roles were reversed, I heard a familiar voice down in the living room.

He's here, I said to myself, recognizing it was her boyfriend's voice. They must be drunk or something.

She had introduced me to him before, so that wasn't the unusual part, it was that he'd never come over during one of their date nights. I normally would've turned on the hallway light but the circumstances called for me hiding in the dark, in the shadows like some type of detective.

By the time I reached the railing next to the stairs, I knew I'd have some visibility of them thanks to the adjacent kitchen light, which helped me take in the scene of him sitting on the couch with my mom on her knees in front of him.

What the fuck is going on? I asked myself, feeling a distinct heat rushing through my body, a mixture of jealously and arousal that sent a trembling feeling from my chest to my limbs. Didn't they fuck already?

I'd always fantasized about seeing her in action, but having it actually happening in front of me was overwhelming, to say the least. It almost didn't feel real and it threw me into an unescapable enthrallment.

It's late, so they must've thought I was asleep, I deduced, staying in my detective-like persona.

With his taller frame, he was able to reach down and pull up her dress while she scrambled like a fiend to unleash what she had been craving all night.

I'd never thought that would be the way I got to see my mother in a state of undress, but it was, proof that reality was stranger than fiction. On her knees, bobbing her head, busying her mouth, and inadvertently displaying her supple, pale ass cheeks that she had been molding in the gym, with only a thin string of red fabric preventing me from seeing what I had imagined countless times in my mind.

I was right, she's wearing the red one, but, damn, her ass looks so fucking good, I observed, feeling a stir under my shorts that reminded me I was in need of release after edging so much.

As for him, he was resting his head on the couch, eyes closed, with one hand on the back of my mother's head. He was totally relaxed while she was taking care of him after a successful date, and I couldn't blame him, I would've done the same in his position.

I stood there, watching the immoral scene, from my perspective at least, because they were doing no wrong. I felt like I was floating, not in an out-of-body experience type of way, but more so in a trance, unable to pull my eyes away from the distortion of my reality.

It wasn't until my lower body began to tire from my holding a stealthy position that I realized my mother had been pleasuring him long enough for the gusset of her thong to darken with the soaking of her juices. She wanted more, and so did I, which urged my hand down my shorts to stroke myself discreetly.

Finally, I was acquiescing to my body's demands, specifically that of my aching member. I felt like I could bust at any second, forcing me to slow down in the hope that I could see the climax of their session.

She must love doing it, I thought, noticing the contrast of her knees on the hard floor and the tender care she had for her boyfriend.

The same lips that kissed me goodnight were wrapped around him, working up and down with ease thanks to her saliva drooling over his shaft. He pressed her head down against him, inviting her to deepthroat his length and she seemed to pass the challenge with how long she held out for.

She came up with a loud gasp for air, but he didn't give her any time to rest as he swiftly helped her up to her feet, bringing her closer to reach around her back and pull her thong aside.

Just before she widened her stance to straddle him, I got my first glimpse of his impressive size. The realization that he was hung made me stop stroking for a second to allow the sting of humiliation to settle in.

Much thicker and longer, I shamed myself, knowing my hand comfortably covered most of my length and easily wrapped around my girth. Probably need two hands for his.

I could tell he was throbbing with intensity because it stood in place all by itself waiting for my mom to drop her weight on it. And with no further suspense, she did, aided by his hands holding up her dress and digging into the flesh of her ass. She disappeared his inches into her sweltering entrance until the bottom of her cheeks rested comfortably on his thighs.

I wasn't sure if my brain was processing things correctly, or filling in the gaps with my porn-inspired fantasies, but in that moment I could have sworn she let out a moan that was cut short by the sealing of their lips.

It certainly wasn't a professional porn scene playing out in the living room couch, but it was raw, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that I wouldn't miss for anything in the world.

Her hips moved effortlessly, grinding back and forth, even in circular and semi-circular motions to hit all the spots. She was in control of her pleasure, no different than when she filed for divorce from my father and went looking for a hot stud to replace him.

His hands would not stop palming her ass, it belonged to him, it was his prized possession after all. Not for a second did they stop kissing each other, a display of the palpable feelings emanating from the two of them, which returned the mixed emotions to the forefront of my mind.

I pushed those pesky thoughts away and focused on my stroking. I wanted to finish and sure as hell didn't want to get caught, but I also wanted to see if she was going to climax. I staved off a few orgasms, intensifying the pain in my scrotum but somehow managed to push through.

This motherfucker, I thought, smiling to myself at the unintended pun. He's gonna last forever or what.

He gave her ass a good squeeze, one that left white imprints of his fingertips on her flesh, and held her in place as he scooted down until his hips were off the couch. I had seen it in many porn videos, it was a staple in many of the couch scenes. It gave him greater access and increased mobility to thrust upwards into her, and it didn't seem like it was his first time showing her the position.

He adjusted the grip of his hands on her ass, fitting his right one underneath her pulled-aside thong, and began a brutal rhythm with his hips that had the softness of her curves rippling with the repeated contact.

She's so fucking wet, I admired, listening carefully to the wet sounds that accompanied each and every one of his thrusts. He's owning her body, claiming it for himself.

I tried clamping the base of my cock but one rope of cum escaped into my boxers. A second, smaller rope spurted out but the unprecedented levels of arousal kept me fully erect, and I was miraculously able to continue stroking.

He left her, and unknowingly me, with no doubt of his virility. He was exuding such vigor with his fucking that his balls were slapping against the bottom of her ass.

I-I could never fuck he...my mom like that, I shamed myself once more, also noticing that he just wouldn't slip out with his precise motion.

Seeing her throwing her head back, forgetting all about the fact I was home to focus on her pleasure, and moaning to the ceiling, "Oh my fucking, God!" was more than enough to render me a spurting mess.

Maybe it was how much I had edged myself, or maybe it was spectating my ultimate fantasy unfold, perhaps a combination of the two, but I could not stop cumming into my boxers until they were full of my stickiness.

She flexed her ass cheeks together as if bracing for her orgasm, which was visibly announced by the splashing of her juices that left everything in the vicinity with a hint of her scent. He was ruthless, mercilessly pounding through her convulsing walls until he brought himself to join her in the unadulterated bliss.

I wanted to see his creamy, white load dripping out of her pussy but his tip was buried so deep inside of her that I knew I wasn't going to get the chance, so it was time to retreat into the safety of my room. I didn't have time to pace around my room and relive the images permanently engraved in my mind. I had to at least pretend to be asleep in case my mom came up to check on me. I would have time to process the raw data I had compiled, but for now, it was still fresh, resembled by the warm, sticky feeling under my boxers.

I loved her, she was my mother, I always would love her, but she wasn't mine in the way I wanted her and never would be. That was reality, I couldn't expect to make her my woman no matter how many outlandish plans I came up with to try and make it true. It wasn't going to happen, but for a pervert like me, one with an emerging humiliation kink, seeing her with her boyfriend was as good as it was ever going to get. I couldn't wait to see them again, be it in person or through a hidden camera in her bedroom to catch some new angles of them, which was the most sensible of all my plans. Whatever it was, I would do it, anything to experience my mom's fulfilling sex life vicariously through her boyfriend.