“Quick,” said my mother. “Stop looking. Just get on the bloody bed with me, Alan. Love me.”
Pausing so I could seal the image into my mind I told her, “Don’t ever be shy with me again. Not about being naked, mum.”
Then I went to her. I clambered onto the bed with indecent haste, moving between my mother’s spread thighs, her sex glistening pink, labia puffy with her arousal.
***
We loved.
I felt the delicious warmth engulf my cock, the gasp coming out of my mother as we joined.
“God, I love how you feel inside me, Alan,” breathed my mother while I held myself up on straight arms. “Incest,” she murmured, staring at our conjunction. “My boy … my wonderful son…”
We began to move, my mother slowing me down when I forgot about making love and started to rut.
“Easy,” she purred, a restraining hand on my shoulder. “Steady, Alan. Don’t just fuck. Take your time. Nice and slow. Look at me, baby.” She held my focus, gazing into my eyes, the liquid glide between us. “Love,” sighed my mother. “Like we’re married,” she said. “This is so sublime. You’re good at this, Alan. I’m jealous of your girlfriends. I wish I’d been your first.”
“Mum, wow, that would have been fantastic.”
I was still up on straight arms but eased down onto my elbows after I said it.
“I love your body, mum. Fuck, those big tits are great…”
Excited, I moved so I could duck in to suck at her nipples, my mother cooling my ardour again when I fucked into her body.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Kiss me. Make love. Look at my face so I can see how it feels for you.”
We kissed, moving slowly together, her breasts between us, her legs folded at the knees while her feet gripped my flank. Our breaths mingled as we stared and moaned, mumbled endearments passing between us. It was loving. We were together as a couple. Melded. Intimate. It was private, our filial relationship shifting as our love deepened.
To herself, vague and distant, my mother moaned, “I wish we could have a baby together. Put your seed inside me.”
It stirred me to hear her say it. The idea was strangely compelling, the image forming in my mind as we continued to rock, her body around my girth. Then, suddenly, it became imperative that I get there quickly. That I poured what I had left into her pussy. My cum would bathe her cervix, sperm swimming to her centre to spark new life.
Aroused by the prospect of impregnating my mother — I could imagine her swollen with child, a baby we’d made in our love — I went up on straight arms, fucking at her so the bed dipped and shook.
“Mum,” I groaned, wild with need.
She must have sensed my intent because she blurted my name, alarm in her face.
“Not yet,” my mother hissed up at me. She pushed at my chest, wriggling to get out from under. “Don’t come. Not now. I want it for longer.”
I grunted and kept on going desperate to do it inside her.
My mother gave another hefty push, shoving at me, wriggling free. “Don’t!” she cried out. “Not yet.”
When my cock slipped free of her body, the urgency faded a little, enough for me to realise I’d been galloping towards the finish line with no thought about my mother’s needs and satisfaction.