“Ohhhh, Mom! You feel so good!”
His pelvic thrusts seemed to be on auto-pilot.
Mag’s arousal intensified. She crammed her middle finger into her roasting, yearning, gash. Low squishy sounds could be heard as the newly-untamed woman fingered herself to the lusty sight of her son dry-humping her in his dreams.
“Aaahhh, yeah!” She quietly moaned, adding her own dialogue to the dirty talk. “I feel good, Richie? Does mommy feel good to you as you fuck her?”
Wanting to feel slutty, Mag pushed her Victoria Secret’s down mid-thigh and resumed frigging her now-bare twat.
Richie’s ears heard some unusual things.
“Does mommy feel good to you as you fuck her?” That sounded like Mom.
“Ohhhh, Mom! You feel so good!” Was that me?
He also sensed his lower extremities were motioning. He opened his eyes.
“Oh, Mom!” he exclaimed.
This was not a repeat of the raunchy statement he made in his sleep. It was one of shock.
To the right side of his bed, he saw his goddess of a mother pleasuring herself. She was in her gray business suit, its skirt portion hiked up and her panties pulled down her thighs, enabling her left hand to feverishly stroke her overheating vagina. The jacket was open as was her white blouse, one of her stiff nipples being vigorously tweaked by the fingers of the right hand. She looked so fucking hot: her spread legs with one knee bent to the side, the tight-covering of the skirt across her lush hip, and her 3-inch, black heels.
Their eyes met and then hers motioned for his to look at his crotch. He did, mortified at the tented region. His eyes flew back to hers.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m—” his blabbering apology was cut off as he resumed viewing his lovely parent masturbating.
“Sorry for what, baby?” she coyly inquired, bringing the hand which attended her muff up to her face and then licking the palm. It was an erotic, slow lap from wrist to finger tips, exciting herself with her own spicy syrup.
The provocative scene of his mother tasting her own juices caused Richie’s pecker to start oozing precum into his Calvin Klein briefs. He was confused: embarrassed, yet aroused. He remained silent as Mag continued her inquisition.
“Sorry for what, Richie? Hmmm? Having a dirty dream about fucking me, your mother?” The words ‘fucking me, your mother’ were heavily stressed.
“I, I, I’m sorry, Mom,” he stammered.
“It’s ok, baby,” she consoled in a low, sexy tone just before pushing her panties down to her feet.
The college student’s eyes blinked and his mouth was opened wide, unbelieving at seeing his alluring mother shove her panties all the way down her snake-like legs. She paused, letting the image of her soaking wet Victoria Secrets around her ankles obscenely covering her high heels get saved in his memory. Then she stepped out of them.