My son was awakened by the scent of breakfast - bacon to be exact. He staggered to the kitchen wearing his baggy shorts. I was humming that old Carpenter's song, "Top of the World", as I stood over the cook-top in my flowered, blue, cotton housecoat with my unbrushed, raven locks draped over my shoulders.
We were the only ones in the house because my daughter and husband had left earlier to pick up his car from the repair shop. My son stealthily sneaked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I yelped. He just squeezed me tightly in a big, bear hug and kissed the nape of my neck.
"Stop it. What if your Dad sees us?"
"They'll be gone at least an hour," as he kissed my neck again then began nibbling on my ear. If possible, he squeezed me a little tighter. I loved the feel of his body nestled into mine.
He slid his left hand down my waist and hip until he found my hand. He slowly moved it to his shorts placing it on his morning woody, saying, "I've got something for you."
"You're up early," I gave it a squeeze. It throbbed in response. He pinched my nipple. A rush went through me like an encounter with a paranormal entity. I shivered.
He turned me around, and we kissed, a nice wet French kiss just like toast in the skillet. He cupped my breast and gave it a squeeze. My nipple betrayed me by acknowledging his touch becoming a taut eraser as an uncontrolled moan escaped my mouth.
His other hand drifted down over my best feature, my sensuous, bubble derriere. He lifted my cheek and squeezed.
"Wooo," was my response as I broke our embrace.
"C'mon, Mom, let's have a little fun while the cat's away."
"No, they'll probably be back any minute. Besides, what happened in the bathroom was a mistake. It’ll never happen again.”
Apparently, he didn’t believe me and grabbed another handful of tit. I reacted instinctively and slapped the shit out of him with a hard, open-handed slap.
“Mom, what the fuck! That fucking hurt,” he shockingly replied while rubbing the side of his face.
“I told you what happened yesterday was a mistake, so let’s just forget it ever happened. Okay?”
“But, Mom, it was so hot. Didn’t you enjoy me eating you?”
“Yes, but it can’t happen again. Understand?”
“Are you sure?” he questioned hoping for a change in heart.
“No, never again,” I was adamant.
“Okay, if that’s the way you want it. I’ll leave you to Dad and his pitiful little cock.”
I thought that was the end of it, but over the next few weeks, I couldn’t stop thinking of how unique it felt having his cock slide between my lips, feeling it throb and convulse over my tongue, and tasting his cum.