Julie woke with the taste of last night still on her tongue, metallic and sharp. The red satin nightie had twisted around her waist while she slept, and the air felt cool against the damp heat between her legs. Mark’s breathing was slow and heavy beside her, one arm flung across the pillow like a barricade. She lay very still, afraid to move, afraid the memory would scatter if she so much as blinked.

It didn’t scatter. It pressed in.

Jeremy’s weight on the mattress.
His palms sliding under the satin, cupping her breasts like he already knew their shape.
The way her nipples had tightened against his thumbs, greedy little traitors.

She shifted her thighs and felt the crust of him, flaking where it had dried. A quiet, filthy reminder.

Mark snorted in his sleep and rolled away. The movement freed her. She slipped from the bed, bare feet silent on the carpet, and padded to the bathroom. The door shut with a click that sounded too loud.

The mirror showed her what she already knew: hair tangled, mouth soft and swollen, eyes wide and guilty. She looked like a woman who had been taken apart and put back together wrong.

Her fingers found the nightie’s straps. The satin slid from her shoulders and drifted to the tile, a puddle of red at her feet.

Naked now.
The dried streaks on her inner thighs caught the light, faint silver lines. She touched one with a fingertip and shivered.

The shower hissed to life. Steam curled around her ankles as she stepped in. Hot water poured down her back, over the curve of her ass, between her legs. She closed her eyes and let it burn.

Her hands moved without permission.
Soap first, then just skin.
She cupped her breasts the way he had, slow and deliberate, thumbs brushing the nipples that still felt raw from his mouth.

He’s my son.
He knew exactly how hard to squeeze.

A small, helpless sound escaped her.

Her palms slid lower, over the soft rise of her belly. The water made everything slick. One finger parted her folds and found the swollen knot of her clit. She circled it once, twice, hips jerking at the contact.

He’s my son.
He made me come so hard I forgot how to breathe.

The memory rolled over her like the water: On all fours, drunk on wine and want. Begging for Mark.

Then Jeremy’s hands, strong and sure, gripping her hips. The blunt press of his cock, thick and hot, sliding home in one slow, merciless stroke. Her own voice, cracked open: “Yes—fuck me—just like that—”

Her fingers moved faster. Two slipped inside, curling, chasing the angle he had found so easily. Her other hand pinched a nipple, rolled it, tugged until the sting shot straight to her core.

He’s my son.
He fucked me like he’d been starving for it.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. The tile was cool against her shoulder blades. She rocked into her hand, thighs trembling, the water drumming on her skin like a second heartbeat.

The climax built fast and vicious. She bit her lip to stay quiet, but a low, broken moan slipped out anyway. Her pussy clenched around her fingers, pulsing, milking nothing and everything. She hunched forward, forehead pressed to the wall, riding the aftershocks until her knees nearly gave.

Mark’s voice floated through the door, thick with sleep. “Jules? You okay?”

She swallowed, throat raw. “Fine,” she managed. “Dropped the shampoo.”

A grunt. The mattress creaked. Silence.

She stayed under the spray a moment longer, letting the water rinse her clean on the outside while the ache inside only grew.

When she stepped out and dried herself before reaching for the pink satin robe waiting on the hook. She slipped it on, tied the belt, and felt the fabric brush her nipples like a promise.

Mark was already snoring again. She bent, pressed a soft kiss to his temple (habit, apology, goodbye), and walked out of the room.

Julie left the bedroom on silent feet, the pink satin whispering against her thighs. At the top of the stairs, she paused, one hand on the banister, the other pressed to her stomach as if she could push the memory back down. Jeremy’s door stood at the end of the hall, half open, a thin blade of light cutting across the runner.

She wanted to forget. She needed to speak.

The conflict weighed heavy in her mind, but her legs carried her forward anyway. Each step felt inevitable, like walking into a room she already knew was on fire.

She eased the door wider. Jeremy lay on his back, sheet tangled low around his hips, chest rising slow and even. Morning light painted gold across the slope of his shoulder, the hollow of his throat. He looked younger in sleep—peaceful, almost innocent—until the memory of his hands, his mouth, his cock flooded back and turned innocence into something else entirely.

Julie slipped inside and closed the door with a soft click. The room smelled faintly of him: warm skin, sleep, the ghost of last night’s sweat.

She sat on the edge of the mattress. The dip woke him.

“Jeremy,” she said, voice barely above a breath. “Jeremy, honey, we need to talk.”

His eyes opened slowly, lashes lifting like curtains. For a moment he just looked at her—really looked. The robe clung to her damp skin. The satin caught light across the swell of her breasts, the shadowed valley between. Her hair fell in loose, tousled waves; her lips were still swollen from the shower’s heat and her own teeth. She was beautiful, and he had fucked her, and the knowledge sat between them like a live wire.

Under the sheet, his cock stirred, thickening against his thigh.

“Mom, I—”

She cut him off, gently but firm. “What happened last night can’t happen again.”

He pushed up on one elbow. “Why?”

“Because it was wrong.”

Jeremy’s hand moved before he thought, settling on her thigh just above the knee. The satin was warm from her skin; beneath it, her leg was softer than he remembered. He slid his palm upward slowly, watching her face.

“At least admit it felt good.”

Her breath hitched. “It… did.”

“We could do it again.”

“No.” The word came out thin, unconvincing.

His fingers kept moving, tracing the hem, slipping beneath. The robe parted easily. Her skin was fever-hot.

“Just tell me you don’t want to feel that way again.”

“It’s wrong,” she whispered, but her thighs relaxed, knees drifting apart.

His hand slid higher. The robe fell open to her waist. He found the soft, bare mound of her pussy already slick, the lips swollen and sensitive.

“You let Dad fuck you with my cum still inside you,” he said, voice low.

A soft sound escaped her—shame, maybe, or hunger. Her hips lifted a fraction, chasing his touch.

Jeremy’s finger traced her slit, gathering wetness, circling the hood of her clit with deliberate care. She was dripping, the scent of her arousal filling the small space between them.

“Which felt better?” he asked. “Did Dad make you come?”

She looked down, lashes trembling. His finger pressed lightly, steadily, waiting.

“Say it.”

Her gaze lifted. “You.”

He smiled slowly and surely. “Don’t you want to feel that again?”

His middle finger slipped between her folds, parting them, sliding through slick heat until the pad of his thumb settled over her clit. He rubbed in tight, perfect circles.

Julie’s head fell back, a low moan vibrating in her throat. Her thighs spread wider, knees falling open, offering everything.

He shifted, sitting up fully, sheet pooling at his waist. His face was inches from hers now. With his free hand, he cupped her chin, turned her to him.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes opened—hazel, glassy, pleading.

His finger pushed inside her, slow and deep, curling to stroke the spot that had made her scream last night. Her walls fluttered around him.

“Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head.

“Say it.”

“No,” she breathed, voice shaking. “Don’t stop.”

He leaned in. Their lips met—soft at first, then hungry. Her mouth opened under his, warm and sweet, tasting faintly of toothpaste and something darker. His tongue slid against hers, coaxing, claiming. She moaned into the kiss, the sound swallowed between them.

His finger thrust steadily now, thumb circling her clit in time. Her hips rolled, riding his hand, chasing the edge.

He pulled back just enough to watch her face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

She came with a sharp, muffled cry against his mouth, pussy clenching hard around his finger, juices coating his palm. Her body shuddered, thighs trembling, breath coming in soft, broken gasps.

He eased his finger free, brought it to his lips, tasted her.

Julie stared at him, chest heaving, eyes wide and soft.

“Did that feel good?” he asked.

She nodded, small and helpless.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Jeremy’s hand stayed between her legs, palm cupped gently over her pulsing heat, letting the aftershocks ripple through her. The sheet had slipped entirely away; his young cock stood up hard like a steel beam, flushed and slick at the tip.

Julie’s eyes drifted down, then snapped back to his face. The robe hung open now, satin framing her breasts, nipples tight from the cool air and the orgasm still humming in her blood.

She tried to speak. “We—”

He silenced her with a thumb across her lower lip. “Shh...”

His fingers moved again, slower this time, tracing lazy circles around her clit, spreading her wetness. She was so sensitive that every touch made her hips jerk.

“Tell me what you want, Mom.”

Her voice cracked. “I don’t know.”

He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Don’t lie to me, Mom.”

Julie’s hand found his wrist—not to stop him, but to hold on. Her thighs trembled.

Jeremy’s eyes flicked to the door, then back to her. He didn’t stop. If anything, his touch grew bolder, two fingers sliding back inside her, curling, stroking.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Jeremy—”

“Say it.”

“I want…” She swallowed. “I want you inside me again.”

The words hung between them, raw and irreversible.

Jeremy’s hand left the slick heat between her thighs and rose to the open front of her robe. His palm slid over one breast, cupping its weight, the hard nipple pressing into the center of his hand like a plea. He let out a low, involuntary moan that was soft, almost reverent, as if the feel of her was still a surprise.

Julie’s breath caught. She didn’t pull away.

He tugged her gently, and she obeyed, climbing onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. The robe parted completely as she straddled him. His cock, rigid and flushed, lay hot against her belly for a moment before she shifted, sliding down until the head nudged her entrance.

She untied the belt. The satin slipped from her shoulders and pooled on the sheets behind her.

Jeremy looked up.

Morning light spilled across her soft, flushed skin, still damp from the shower. Her breasts hung full and heavy, nipples dark and tight, swaying slightly with every breath. The curve of her waist flared to the swell of her hips; between them, her pussy glistened, swollen and open, the lips parted just enough to show the slick pink inside.

She was a vision. His mother, naked, straddling him, offering herself like a sexual goddess.

Julie rolled her hips once, slow. The head of his cock slipped through her folds, coating itself in her wetness. She lifted slightly, positioned him, and sank down.

He slid in to the hilt in one smooth glide.

Her head fell back, eyes fluttering shut. A low, shuddering moan escaped her as she felt him fill her again. Thick, hard, perfect. For a moment she stayed still, savoring the sensation of being stretched, the pulse of him inside her.

Then she began to move.

Slow, deliberate circles at first, grinding her clit against his pelvis, back arched, breasts thrust forward. Jeremy’s hands found her hips, guiding, then sliding up the smooth plane of her stomach to cup both breasts. He squeezed, thumbs flicking her nipples, and she gasped, hips stuttering.

Her pace quickened. The bed creaked softly beneath them.

She rode him like she’d been waiting years. Her hips rolling, thighs flexing, pussy gripping him tight. Her second orgasm built fast, coiling low in her belly. When it hit, she bit her lip to muffle the cry, body trembling, walls fluttering around him.

She slowed, breathing hard, then leaned down. Their mouths met. She kissed him deeply, tongue sliding against his, tasting him.

Her hips never stopped.

She broke the kiss, lips brushing his ear.
“Come on,” she whispered, “Cum for Mommy.”

Jeremy groaned.

She sat up, hands braced on his chest, and rode him with purpose. She moved with slow, deep strokes, grinding down on every upstroke.

“Come on, Jeremy,” she breathed. “Cum for Mommy’s tight pussy.”

His hands clamped on her hips. His cock throbbed, thick and urgent. She felt it swelling inside of her and bore down, taking him to the root.

He came with a low grunt, hips jerking, flooding her in hot pulses. She pressed down hard, milking every drop, until he was spent.

Julie collapsed forward, forehead to his, their chests heaving together. His cock stayed inside her, softening slowly.

“Jules?” Mark’s voice, sleepy but cheerful through the closed door. “You make coffee yet?”

She lifted her head, voice steady despite the tremor in her thighs.

“Not yet, honey. Just checking on Jeremy.”

A pause. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine,” she called back, a smile tugging at her lips. “He agreed to help me with a few things I need.”

Mark chuckled. “That’s great. Jeremy, make sure you give your mother everything she needs.”

Jeremy’s hands slid up her back possessively. “Sure thing, Dad,” he said, loud enough to carry. “I’ll take care of Mom whenever she needs it.”

Julie’s eyes met his. They were dark, playful, promising.

She pushed up slowly, letting him slip free. A trickle of cum followed, warm down her thigh.

She stood beside the bed, naked and unashamed, reaching for the robe. The satin slid over her skin like water. She tied it loosely, then bent to kiss him. Once on the mouth, soft and lingering, and then she moved down, brushing the tip of his softening cock with her lips, tasting them both as she gave him a soft but sensual kiss on his cock.

At the door she paused, hand on the knob.

She looked back, eyes gleaming. “You promised,” she said, voice low and teasing. “Whenever I need it.”

Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.