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.

That encounter would creep into my mind unannounced like a cat burglar; I always got wet and had to masturbate to keep myself under control. It was getting so bad that I was masturbating at least twice a day.

I started thinking about how good his beautiful cock might feel in my cunt. Would it get me off? My husband’s hadn’t done that in years. I’m sure my son's would do the trick.

When he would go to work, I’d find myself in his room on his bed with my panties down around my ankles; my head on his pillow with my skirt bunched around my waist; on my knees with legs spread, my fingers feverously working my clit.

My mind would be hoping that he’d come home early and catch me in that vulnerable, unladylike position, push my head firmly into his pillow and fuck me. Once my consciousness got to that part, I always came for him with a soul-shaking orgasm. If only, it was real. I couldn’t stop thinking about his beautiful cock.

A few weeks later, I got a call from my son. He’d had a fight with his girlfriend and wanted to talk to me about it over dinner. I thought about saying, "No," but he sounded so upset that I agreed.

Dinner was nice, but he drank too much as he told me his problems. I tried to console him the best I could.

He was in no condition to drive, so I got him to the car and drove us home. He was nearly unconscious when we arrived, but with a little fortitude, I got him undressed and into bed. He passed out and went straight to sleep.

He was in his boxers, and I caught a glimpse of his flaccid cock. I remembered how it felt in my mouth during our bathroom encounter. I was wet.

I couldn't help it as my fingers ran over his sleeping snake. It was warm even through the fabric. I squeezed it. It began to grow. Oh my, I hadn’t expected that.

By his breathing, I could tell he wasn’t going to wake up. I thought, “Why not?”

I slipped that magnificent cock out of his shorts into the evening air. By now, it was hard and beautiful. I leaned forward and gave it a lick. A flood of emotion crashed over me. I licked round his tip until it sparkled with my salvia. My lips kissed his tip and parted as I took him into my nearly virgin mouth.

It felt better than the first time. I began an up and down motion. My lips felt the tickle of his pubes when I took him all the down. I was so wet that juice was running down my leg. Suddenly, a blast of his precious seed squirted into my mouth. I gulped it down the best I could but gagged a little on the quantity.

Oh my, this was a dream fulfilled. I stuck my fingers in my dripping snatch and rubbed them over his unconscious lips. I hoped that he’d lick them and dream of me.