I want to use my dick mom.. Incest sex stories with mom and son.. I started to sweep angrily. My husband was gone again. Always business and always for more than a few days. I looked up at the mirror over the sink (it was my cheap replacement for actually having a window there) and frowned. I was 37 years old. My hair was still dark, my skin was nice (I thought) and my breasts were not hanging to my stomach. I went to the gym four times a week and managed to weigh almost the same as my wedding day. I smiled in the mirror—I remembered the time one of Tim’s friends called me a milf. At first I was angry, I didn’t know what it was but it sounded like something bad. But after using the internet to look it up, it made me blush. The point was: what the hell was my husband’s problem?
I scooped the debris into a bag then put the broom away. Then I felt some glass still on the floor so I got down to get it. It had managed to still be spread out—even under the sink. I sighed and started grabbing at it with my fingers. The last time we had sex was almost a month ago. A whole month. I did things in the bedroom must husbands would dream about, but he just didn’t seem interested. I scratched at the floor with my nails and smiled. I thought of the first time we had anal sex. He couldn’t believe I wanted to try it—he was so sweet then. I thought of the last time I had an orgasm—now that seemed like ages ago. Even with all our toys, gels and outfits…something was missing.
I crawled under the sink and felt around for the remaining debris. Of course I pleased myself when he wasn’t there. I mean I had to. But I never counted those orgasms as “real”. I smiled when I thought of my son Tim coming over. He was just 18, handsome and so sensitive. I used to think he was a spitting image of his father, now I didn’t think they could be any more different. I wondered if Tim had a girlfriend, or what he was doing. I loved being his mom. When I thought about him my mood changed and I smiled as I did my best to get every piece of that salad from under the sink.
I became aware that someone was behind me so I wiggled back wondering if it was Ella the maid. I got my shoulders out from under the sink and looked back. To my surprise it was Tim. He stood leaning against the doorway looking at me with a half-smile.
“Oh…hey dear,” I said embarrassed to have my butt sticking up at him. I realized that my running pants were slipping and I am sure he could see my thong.
“Hey mom,” he replied not moving, but still watching me.
I turned around and sat on the floor, wiping my hands on the dish towel hanging from the handle. “I was stupid and knocked the salad on the floor.” I said, trying to act casual. “So here I am on my hands and knees trying to clean it up before you got here.”
“It’s no problem,” he said—strangely quiet.
He was wearing his work out clothes too and then I saw it: a rather large bulge in his sweat pants. I felt my face blush. Did he get that looking at me? But I am his mother?