Mommy’s Need A Big Dicked Son

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“One taste and you’d be mine,” she smiled, having been suggesting I switch to her side for a couple months now.

“I prefer sausage to fish,” I countered.

“Trust me, I don’t taste remotely like fish,” she said, a sexy tone in her voice. “More like a fruit salad.”

“I do like fruit,” I smiled, playing along. Truth was, I had been slightly tempted to explore that side of my sexuality again… but right now I really was crazy about sausage.. specifically, my son’s big fat sausage.

“The offer is still out there, I can take you home ‘Kathleen’, and seduce you into your wonderful new life,” she improvised, all singsong.

“Tempting,” I admitted, which it was, and for some reason it was even more tempting after seeing my son fucking… which made no sense.

She winked and said, “It’s only a matter of time.”

I smiled, but didn’t say anything as a new idea suddenly popped into my head.

Tomorrow was Nude Day.

I wasn’t sure how… but I was pretty sure it was some kinky angel from above telling me to use this holiday to push my taboo incest fantasy ahead… perhaps by giving head.

That late afternoon as Jason massaged my feet I asked, “So… any girlfriend yet?”

“Nope,” he said.

“Any boyfriend?” I asked, knowing he wasn’t gay, but messing with him.

“God, no.”

“I was kidding,” I smiled as I felt his hard cock stirring under my feet. I then asked, “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” I asked. “If you massaged their feet, I’m sure you could have anyone you liked.”

“Most of the girls I know don’t wear nylons,” he pointed out.

“True,” I agreed. “Girls today are so lazy.”

“Agreed,” he said, as he rubbed each toe individually.

“I love the way they showcase my legs and I know I get looks because of them,” I said, as I wiggled the toes he wasn’t massaging.

“I sure notice,” he said.

“You notice my legs in nylons?” I asked innocently.

“I mean, I…” he began and then just admitted it, “…yes, you’re the reason I expect anyone I’m with to wear them.”

“I’m flattered,” I said sincerely, as he massaged the sole of my left foot. “Do you tell them to wear them?”

“Kinda,” he said, one hand now massaging my calf… higher than he had roamed previously.

“Either you do or you don’t,” I pointed out. “You can’t ‘kinda’ do something.”

“Yes, yes,” he sighed, this being something I’d said to him many times. Truth was, I hated indirect answers, and I hated the word ‘kinda’.

“And they all agree to do it?” I asked quizzically.

“Usually,” he said.

“Interesting,” I said, as I allowed my son’s hand to reach slightly higher up my leg… each of us secretively becoming more brazen as I parted my legs ever so slightly.

“Why interesting?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, purposely luring him in.

“You can’t call something I say ‘interesting’ and then just shut down,” he pointed out.

“Fair enough. It’s just that I never saw you as a take charge ‘kinda’ guy,” I said.

“I can be,” he said, his hands doing magic to my legs.

“I can’t imagine,” I continued, lying about that, wanting to hint to him every possible invitation to show me his power.

“I usually get what I want,” he said rather firmly.

“And what exactly do you want?” I asked, perhaps a little too bluntly.

He paused for a few seconds… trying to figure out how to say what he really wanted… I hoped it was to fuck me and make me his Mommy-slut… but he answered, rather sweetly, but with a hint back to me, still unaware I knew of his deep dark fantasy expressed to me via a security cam, “I want a woman like you.”

“Like me?” I asked, pretending to be surprised.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Caring, compassionate and….”

He paused.

I asked, “And what?”

“And who wears nylons every day and who’s as hot as you are,” he blurted out quickly, like if he didn’t say it in a rush, he’d never say it at all.

“You think I’m hot?” I asked, loving the flattery.

“Blistering,” he admitted, his cock twitching under my feet.

I took a blatant glance at his crotch as I asked again, acting shocked, “Really?”

“I know it’s weird,” he said, looking down at my feet, his cock flexing again, “but I’ve always had a thing for older women.”

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