“Yes, but be quick before I change my mind. Do you have any idea how pervy this is? And don’t get spunk all over me, Gareth. I saw what you did the last time. Use my tee-shirt to catch it all in. You’re liable to get your muck in my hair if it squirts out like it did before. I don’t want that stuff on my face. I don’t want it on my boobs, either, thank you very much.”
Gareth moved quickly. Once he realised it was on, he scrambled around, suddenly oblivious to the cold winter chill. He knee-walked in place and held his shaft in one hand, looming over his mother while she lay with her thighs spread wide, her fingers still holding her ungainly folds apart.
He lowered himself down and rubbed the keel of his cock over his mother’s sex, the shaft moving over her clit.
“Oh, fuck, mum,” groaned Gareth, his stare fixed on her breasts. He watched his mother’s boobs shiver and roll, his focus going down to where his dick moved over illicit flesh, her pubic bush a brittle scratch at the underside of his dick. “You’re lovely. I think you’ve got a sensational body.”
“I’m forty-five,” his mother replied. “It isn’t like it used to be, Gareth.”
“You’re still gorgeous,” he told her. “My friends all want to fuck you.”
“Gareth,” his mother admonished. “Don’t say that to me. It’s not the sort of thing you should be telling me. Just come and get out. I’m cold and I want to go to sleep. It’s late. And this is just so wrong. We shouldn’t … I mean, you shouldn’t … I mean, I shouldn’t…”
Gareth moved his hips, working his pelvis back-and-forth so his cock slid through the slick folds. Neither mother nor son had hold of the cock. It was just slipping and sliding while Gareth held himself over his mother on two straight arms. She was beneath him, breasts shivering, her legs folded at the knees, thighs spread, an inarticulate gurgling sound coming up from her throat. Gareth gulped and gasped and dared to ease the end of his cock lower than he probably should, the head of it nudging his mother’s body at a very intimate and very illicit place.
It was where he had no right to be. It was a trespass of Olympic proportions, bold and daring and wrong.
He felt her shifting beneath him, the wriggling causing the dome to press up against his mother’s opening, the big bulb somehow slipping inside.
Gareth let out an, “Oh,” of surprise when he felt the molten embrace tight around his shaft. He was halfway inside his mother, her heat all around him when he gawked down at their sudden conjunction.
“Gareth,” she mumbled, eyes wide. “I didn’t say you could put it in. We can’t do that. It’s incest. It’s wrong. Gareth, we can’t possibly fuck.”
But the sensations were just to sublime to ignore. Gareth couldn’t say how he’d managed to slide into his mother’s body, he was sure he hadn’t intended to do it, although he couldn’t actually swear to that fact. But he was in there now and he wasn’t about to pull out.
“Just a couple of strokes,” he managed to croak, his cock going in up to his nuts. “Just let me do it for a minute, mum. Then I’ll pull it out and wank it ’til I come.