As soon as his fingers were fully inserted into her wet hole he felt her body go rigid, then suddenly limp. Pulling his mouth from her cunt he glanced up her body and saw that her eyes were closed. Releasing his hands from her tits he shifted around until his ass was resting on his calves. Panic started to set in until he saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Carefully he crawled off the bed and stared down at his mother’s dripping pussy, his rampant rod sticking obscenely out in front of him. He knew it would be so easy to just crawl back onto the bed and guide his cock into her soaked pussy. But he also knew that that would be the ultimate betrayal of her trust. Gently he pulled a blanket over her, turned off her lamp and left. He did leave her bedroom door open just in case.
Lauren’s internal clock woke her about the same time as her alarm would have, if she had actually set it. Swinging her legs over the side she sat up, instantly aware that her head was throbbing. As she sat there the memories of last night slowly filtered into her brain. She remembered the wine and the movie, at least some of it. But the thing that was vividly etched into her mind was seeing her son with his face buried in her muff, his tongue doing things to her that she had never experienced. How far they had gone she wasn’t sure. Slowly she reached between her legs and ran her fingers through her slit. She was wetter than normal.
“Oh God,” she groaned, holding her aching head in her hands.
Fighting off the hangover she dressed and headed to the kitchen in desperate need of coffee and aspirin. By the time her son walked in she was feeling a little better, at least her head was no longer pounding.
Mark stepped into the kitchen and did a doubletake as he spotted his mom at the table. Her hair was a frizzy mess and her eyes looked bloodshot. Fixing himself a cup, he sat down, his stomach tied up in a knot of nerves as he waited for her to unleash her wrath on him. What she did instead threw him for a loop.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked, her red-rimmed eyes staring into his.
“Sure Mom,” he replied, dipping his eyes to the table, unable to hold her gaze.
“Did we have sex last night?” came her question.
“Um, not completely,” he mumbled.
“Not completely? What in the hell does that mean? Either we did, or we didn’t,” she stated.
Glancing up at her he asked, “How much of last night do you remember?”
“Pretty much everything, especially the part where you climbed into my bed. What I’m sketchy on is how far did we go,” she told him.
Taking a deep breath he began to explain the events of last night. He told her about hearing her call out his name, and thinking something was wrong, had gone into her room and seeing her pleasuring herself. He told her that seeing her like that had caused him to lose control. When he finally got to the part where she had passed out he could see a small smile begin to play at the corners of her mouth.
“So we never actually fucked?” she asked.
Her use of profanity shocked and aroused him at the same time.