The door swung silently as I pushed it open. I hate squeaky hinges. My bare feet made no sound as I padded across the floorboards to his bed.
He woke up when I got on the bed. It’s a nice fantasy that people don’t do that and somehow stay asleep while naughty stuff happens but the inner ear is a touchy device. Teagan raised his head and looked at me blearily, eyes widening in alarm as I pulled my dressing gown open and off. His eyes were dragged helplessly downward – my tits he’d seen countless times, but this was the first time he’d seen my damp, perfectly bald pussy.
“Mum, what the fuck -”
“Shh, shut up, Teagan,” I shushed him, putting both my hands on his chest and forcing him back down to the mattress when he tried to sit up. It took my whole weight; my son’s not a weak boy. “I just really need you to fuck me.”
“What the fucking fuck?” he demanded, his voice a hoarse whisper. Panic was in his tone, now, and his eyes flicked toward the doorway. I’d closed the door but the meaning was clear.
“Tara’s gone, your Dad didn’t come home. We’re alone.” I slid down the bed and pulled his boxers down, fishing around in them to pull his stiffening cock out. He wasn’t stopping me, I noticed.
“Are you still drunk?” he asked, in a more normal voice.
“Not even slightly,” I grinned, wrapping my hand around the base of his shaft. “Not even hung over any more. But I’m really fucking horny and I need my cunt stuffed. Right now. By you.”
“But you’re my Mmmmmotherfucker,” he groaned as my lips slid down over his glans, down, down until I had his whole length trapped in my mouth, in my throat. Up and down my head bobbed, deep-throating one moment, lavishing attention on the head of his cock the next. It took a long time for me to be willing to let him go, and that was mostly so he didn’t blow his load too soon.
“No, honey,” I laughed, “you’re my motherfucker.”
He made some cute wordless noise and I took him back in, working him with my mouth and my hand. He’s not exactly a small guy but I have excellent gag reflex control. Laying on my front between his legs, I pulled back and looked his manhood over as I pumped its length with one hand. About seven, maybe seven and a half inches. Bigger than average but not so big it was going to rip me apart.
To this day I don’t know why he didn’t stop me. I don’t know if he wanted to fuck me. I don’t think he did – not initially, at least. He got into it pretty quick but I think if I’d ever stopped to actually ask him what he wanted he’d have let me down. Maybe that’s why I didn’t.
Still, he got used to the idea very quickly.
He was in my hand, my fist moving up and down in a blur, when his first shot of cum hit me in the face. I quickly sank him in my mouth and swallowed as much of it as I could, eyes on his agonised O-face all the while.
“Oh my God,” he started, sitting up. “I came way too quickly.”
“Shut up, I wanted you to,” I giggled, still pumping his cock. “This way you last longer when you’re fucking the living shit out of me.” I licked my lips, tasting the spilled cum there, and caught that tasty initial spray with one finger before slurping it off. Fuck, there are only a few things I love more than swallowing cum. The taste of it made me hotter, wetter, even though I hadn’t been sure that was possible.