It’s been a long day. You can’t believe what you just did and don’t know what to do about this situation. Better get some sleep

You blink in surprise looking down at your mom, topless on her knees in front of you, as she tastes your cum and rubs it into her big, soft tits, like an actress in a porn video. The thought is screaming in your brain: I just came on my own mother. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You feel your ears and cheeks burn as you flush with embarrassment and shame. You see a worried look in your mother’s eyes, too. She’s looking to you for approval and reassurance. You lean forward in your chair and stroke your fingers through her hair. “I know, mom. You’re the best. It’s… well, complicated dealing with this… the way… the way we feel about each other. Remember I love you no matter what, and I know you want what’s best for me.”

You bend down and place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Right now, I think we both need some sleep. I’ll be able to think more clearly in the morning.” You try to sound confident and reassuring, but you don’t feel that way. “It's been a long day. You need to get some rest. Go get ready for bed, then lie down in bed, close your eyes, relax, and drift off to sleep for the night. I'll see you in the morning." You tell her. You aren’t sure how the spell works, and if telling her that will really compel her to relax and sleep, but you’re reasonably confident she’ll try, and at least stay in bed until morning.

Your mother nods up at you. Her hand grips yours, and she kisses your palm. “You’re right, honey. I’m glad my son grew up so wise. We’ll both feel better in the morning.” She smiles, then kisses your hand again, holding it to her lips for a long time. She slowly releases her hold on your hand and gets up from her knees. She heads out of your bedroom, down the hall to her own.

You start to breathe easier once you’re alone and not being distracted by your mother’s body and willingness to do anything to please you. You feel drained in more ways than one. You strip down to your boxer shorts, crawl into your bed, and fall asleep almost immediately.

You wake up to the sensation of a soft kiss on your lips. You open your eyes to see your mother’s face as she leans over you. “Good morning, honey. The sun is up. I made you some breakfast.” She places a breakfast tray on your bed. There’s a tall stack of pancakes, strawberries with whipped cream, and a mug of coffee. “I hope you like it.” She smiles at you expectantly.

Your mother is dressed in her short robe. Like yesterday morning, it's not fully closed in front. It shows a lot of cleavage and a generous amount of her full breasts. Your mother's breasts, which you remember the feel of around your cock from last night.

You manage to sit up in bed, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. “Mom… you didn’t have to do this.” You mumble.

“I wanted to, Davie. I want to take care of my handsome, wonderful son.” She grins. Her hand slides under the tray, stroking over your morning wood through the blanket. “I know that young men usually need something else taken care of first thing in the morning. I could do that too.” She offers.

Your cock throbs at the touch. You startle, and the little jump your body makes almost spills the coffee. You grab the mug with both hands, “I… umm… I don’t think we should right now.” You stammer out. You gulp down a swallow of the hot coffee, hoping it will help you wake up and think a bit more clearly.

A look of disappointment crosses your mother’s face, but she doesn’t argue. She nods. “Anything you say, honey.” She doesn’t move her hand away from your cock, just resting it there, still. Your cock isn’t still though, it flexes and strains under the unfamiliar pressure.

The coffee isn’t really doing much to help you think, but you manage to at least say “Mom, please move your hand away. I know you want to help, but it’s hard for me to think.”

Your mom giggles. “It’s not hard for you to think, silly. It’s hard for you to do something else.” She winks and gives your shaft a squeeze before she moves her hand away. Then she pouts, “But I know that’s not something you want to do with your old mom when a man like you could get any sexy young woman you want.”

Your mother looks down and blushes, as if she were embarrassed by what she just did and said. “I’m sorry, Dave. I… can’t seem to help myself. It’s getting worse. You’re all I can think of.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “I did what you said last night, went to bed, tried to relax and sleep. But I was so, um, worked up… the only way to relax was to, well, touch myself. And when I went to sleep, I dreamed about you. It was even more intense than the night before.” She shivers. “I know you didn’t ask for any of this, and it’s not right for me to burden you with it. I’m sure you’re disgusted by the way I’m behaving. I’m starting to think I really need to see a psychiatrist.”

You feel guilty. You didn’t ask for this, exactly, but it is your fault, not your mom’s. If it really is getting worse for her, it might be because you haven’t given her enough contact to satisfy the enchantment. The problem is — you don’t know if it’s a matter of more frequent contact… or more intimate contact.

She needs to be reassured right now though, and certainly, you have to get the idea of seeing a shrink out of her head. No one else should ever know about this. You move the tray out of the way and put your arms around her — pulling her into a tight hug. “I already told you, I love you no matter what Mom. I’m not disgusted at all, or burdened. I love that you are so honest and open with me. And… I feel things towards you, that… aren’t accepted. You know that. What we did last night… it wouldn’t have happened if I was in any way disgusted by you.”

You kiss her cheek, then the side of her neck. You pause a moment to think about how to word what you want to tell her. “We’ll work this out between us. I don’t want you to tell anyone else about the feelings you have for me or any of the things we do, that society wouldn’t accept as normal.”

You release her from the hug, and she pulls back, still teary, but smiling at you. “Of course. I won’t say anything to anyone.” She leans in and kisses you on the lips. It’s a hungry, passionate kiss. When she pulls back from it, she bites her lip. “Sorry…” she says in a soft voice.

“It’s OK.” You tell her and caress her cheek with your fingertips. Then you hear Abbie’s bedroom door open and her footsteps in the hall. “Mom… you should go. Make some breakfast for Abbie, too.”

Your mother gives you a quick nod of agreement and understanding. She hurries out of your room. A moment later, your older sister sticks her head in your door. “What’s up with mom? She’s acting…” Abbie’s voice trails off as she sees the breakfast tray on your bed. “The fuck?!” she blurts out.