Her panties dropped to her shins. As she had done thousands of times before, she kicked them off and stood on her tippy-toes, tilting up her head so that her lips were centimeters away from her son’s. Garrett looked down to meet her lips.
“I love you. Only you,” she whispered before pressing her lips to his.
Their wet, messy, desperate lip locking seemed to go on for eternity. Finally reunited and safe in the temple of the most forbidden ritual, mother and son consumed each other. The heat of their embrace also further ignited their craven need, as evidenced by their throbbing, weeping genitals.
Kristen broke the kiss. She breathlessly whispered, “I need cock. Now.”
She dropped to her knees, intently worshipping her most favorite penis in the world. She felt her pussy ache as she relearned its pale, vein-engorged surface after a month of estrangement. The base stood hard and thick, like an alabaster tree trunk surrounded by pufts of dark grass. The tip, a slab of flesh that had covered every infinitesimal nook and cranny within her in its many spelunkings, drooled with monstrous purpose.
She puckered her soft lips and approached, planting a long, tender kiss on the shaft, her eyes searching for his. He met her gaze, shivering from the memories associated with one of their many sexual rituals. She smiled, well aware of her ability to reduce her lothario to a mewling boy, pulling her hair behind her ear in preparation of readying his vigorous breeding tool.
Looking to her left at the boy’s nightstand, she opened the false bottom and used her plying fingers to grasp a flat piece of plastic from the wicker bucket. “Magnum. Extra Sensitive.” she read, strangely happy to see the packaging again. Expertly tearing the plastic with her teeth – she hadn’t ruptured a condom in years – she safely deposited the circle in the flat of her right hand.
Garrett gently grasped her hand just as she set to the task. She looked up, bemused, to find him shaking his head.
“Magic trick.”
She smiled in understanding. She grasped her son’s penis casually with her left, placed the rubber in her mouth, and proceeded to swallow his entire monstrosity.
Her son confirmed her success when he groaned in response to her voice tickling his glans and her lipstick smearing his base. The maneuver provided gooey lubricant for her mouth to spread over the column; Garrett’s vision began to blur as he watched his parent lay wet, broad tongue-strokes around the surface of his babymaker. His knees went weak from the sensation, and he grasped her bare right shoulder for support.
Normally, Kristen would never cease an action that made her baby groan and thrust with such relief. Today, however, even her maternal needs were bowing to her needs as a woman.
She plopped the shiny, black obelisk from her mouth, and whispered huskily, “I need him. Inside me.”
He soundlessly pulled her up to her feet, right up against him. Holding her with his large hands, he walked her back and gently put her on her back. Climbing onto his knees, he recklessly pulled her legs apart to find her open for him, once again, stroking her bud to anoint his entry. He watched her, enjoying her heart-achingly pretty face watching him expectantly with need; her large, maternal breasts sloped onto her torso; her thick, creamy thighs and ample hips shaking with anticipation. He remembered well why high school girls had never concerned him before.
He kneed up to her, laying down his pale enormity on her matching stomach. Its chasmal opening slobbering clear pre-cum well above her belly button, the image in her wide eyes drying her mouth. He pulled back, preparing to enter her in simple, but practiced, perfected, familiar missionary.
Yet he felt her hand on his left shoulder, their well-established gesture of veto.
“W-wait… I wanna see it go in,” Kristen sighed.
Garrett’s lust-glazed eyes cleared to consider her request.
Kristen blushed, “I was… watching you with that girl earlier… and watching you fill her was… fun. So I wanna see…”
