Genre unlock

As I did most days, I was reading. I had parked my oversized ass on the couch, struggling to get comfortable as I sank a bit too far into the cushions. The book was good, but I was just not into it. Reading and watching TV was about all I could really do for fun anymore, thanks to my damned thyroid condition. I just kept getting heavier, and uglier, and I could do less and less. I could see the toll it was taking on my family, especially my husband, watching me gradually become less and less able to do anything, as they all had to pick up my slack. I returned my attention to the book up again, trying to **** myself to keep reading to keep my mind off things, when John ran downstairs.

"Lets try to keep it under 60 in the house," I joked, not looking up, figuring he was headed to the kitchen. Instead, he stopped in front of the couch, regarding me with an oddly intense expression.

“Mom,” he said, talking fast, excited. “I want... no I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s wrong, John?" asked, setting my book aside. "What do you need? Is everything ok? You sound upset.” I tried to keep my tone light, but a flutter of worry passed through my chest. Whatever it was, I hoped it was something I would be able to to do. His father was at work, and I didn't want to have to let my son down anymore than I had to.

“I want you to be a milf,” he stated. “I want you to be cured of your illness. Lose the weight, tone up, make yourself younger, prettier... all of it.” He said in a rush. "I want to use my perfect milf mother."

I was shocked for a second at what he said, but once it was clear this was how he wanted to use me, I smiled, trying to play it cool even though my heart was pounding. “Sure, honey,” I said, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. “You can use me that way if you want." I levered myself up off the couch, standing up slowly, my movements deliberate as they had to be, even though inside, I was buzzing with a mix of excitement that my son was using me, nervousness about if he would like it, and anticipation of what was to come.

My body began to shift, the softness that had defined me for years melting away like ice under a hot sun. My loose, intentionally formless dress became even looser, the fabric hanging off of my body as my form beneath it tightened, molding itself into a new shape. I could feel my face getting smoother, my rounded cheeks pulling inwards, the lines of age fading. My hair brushed against the back of my neck as I lengthened, cascading down my back in soft waves, no longer the short buzz cut I maintained to make it easier for my husband to wash it for me. I could feel my body getting more toned, a strength in my legs I had never felt even before my disease, power in my arms. I felt like I was taking a deep breath as my breasts swelled, rising, loosing the sag of age and illness, pushing against the loose material of my dress, the only place my clothes didn't now hang off my body. My hips narrowed, and my waist cinched in, and I even got a bit taller, having to adjust my gaze slightly downwards to keep watching the awestruck expression on my son's face as he watched me change. I knew that years were literally melting off of me.

John's eyes wandered, trying to glimpse the changes through the billowing obstruction of my now comically oversized dress, still managing to hang onto my shoulders, and I felt a thrill run through me at the intensity of his gaze. The dress I wore now draped over my body like a cape, stubbornly hiding the changes from his sight, but I knew they were there and, so did he. I could feel every toned muscle in my arms and legs, every smooth line of my body, the swell of my firm, high breasts breasts, the round pertness of my ass, the hard plane of my abs. I smiled, my first genuine smile in years, as I looked lovingly at the son who had chosen to use me this way.

"I am so fucking glad that worked," he said, looking relieved.

“You're the best son a mother could ask for,” I told him proudly, my voice effortlessly low and sultry, the kind of tone that I knew would drive any man, but especially my darling boy, crazy. "How else would you like to use your perfect milf mother?"

He respond or hesitate. He grabbed my dress and yanked it hard. The the strained seams gave way, fabric tearing easily, and suddenly I was naked before him, my panties having long ago fallen off hips many inches too small to hold them up. I felt exposed, ****, but also seen, wanted, and more alive than I had in years.

His eyes roamed over my body, gazing over every inch, and I could see the burning desire in his gaze. I ran my hands over myself, feeling my smooth skin, my taut, toned muscles. My ass felt firm, my breasts full and perky, my waist cinched in so tightly , then flaring outwards to rounds hips, my stomach flat and firm. I couldn't resist running my hands up along my long, lean thighs, sweeping all the way down to my smooth calves, effortlessly bending at the waist where before I wouldn't have even been able to bend over far enough to see past my own bulk. For the first time in years, I touched my toes, effortless bending over, more flexible than I had ever been. I basked in his enraptured gaze, laughing as I saw him follow the fall of my boobs, then admire how high they sat as I straightened. My breasts rose and fell with every breath, my nipples hard with arousal, and I reveled in the feeling of there near-weightlessness after years on feeling like I had sandbags on my chest.

Every inch of me had transformed into something beautiful, designed for desire, screaming to be fucked. I fell backwards onto the couch, reveling in being able to do that without risking breaking it, landing lightly. My movements felt different, more fluid, effortlessly sexy, and posed for my son, one leg bent at the knee against my shoulder in a sexy display of flexibility, the other stretched out to the side, giving a hint of the paradise between my thighs, leaning forward to present my tits to him with just a hint of pressed-together cleavage.

“You like what you see?” I asked, my voice husky with desire. I knew exactly what I was doing to him, and I loved it. I could see his hardon throbbing, visible through the fabric of his pants, and I felt a surge of satisfaction at the sight. My son was hard for me, for his milf mother. I made a come hither gesture, and he practically ripped his clothes off, giving me my first intentional view of his naked form in years.

"You're perfect, mom," he gasped out. "How do you feel now? Is it better?"

"Much better," I replied happily. "Better than ever. You wanted a milf, you got a milf. Now are you gonna F me, or am I just M I L?" I added teasingly.

John all but leaped onto the couch, his hands going for my knees, forcing my thighs wide. “Eager, aren’t you, my darling boy?” I teased. I reached out to him, my hands on his waist, pulling him closer. I guided his dick until it slid against my slit, moaning softly as he rubbed his tip along my wet lips, and I grabbed him, rubbing his length up and down against me, teasing him with every slow, deliberate, delicious motion. I laughed delightedly, the sound sensual, light and musical; I was having the time of my life.

“A modern milf should have a bare pussy,” he grunted, at the feeling of my untamed bush scratching against his dick. My fingers tightened around his hard length as the hair between my legs vanished in an instant, leaving me smooth and glistening, his dick sliding along my now-smooth lips.

He pulled back and I lined his shaft up with my opening, letting him push inside of me with one hard thrust. I him pull out and then began moving, slamming my hips against his, instinctively picking up his rhythm. My moans grew louder as he fucked me harder, my body responding to every thrust. This body was made for this, made to be used by my son, to be fucked, to be taken like the milf I now was. I was his mother, his lover, something beautiful, something perfect. His hands gripped my thighs tightly, his fingers digging into my flesh as he set a punishing rhythm. I could feel every inch of him inside me, stretching me wide, filling me completely. My moans turned into gasps as he hit that sweet spot deep within me, the one that sent shivers down my spine and made my toes curl, the one that hadn't been touched in a decade or more. The couch creaked beneath us, the sound mixing with our ragged breaths and the sounds of our bodies slapping together.

“Fuck, John,” I gasped, my voice breathless and needy. “You feel so good inside me, son.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me, my desperation a match for his own. "That's it. Fuck your mother. Fuck the hole that made you!"

“You like that?” he growled, his voice filled with lust. “You like being fucked by your son? You made this dick. Now take it!” he yelled.

My hands gripped his hips as he pounded into me, the couch creaking beneath us with every movement, tits bouncing wildly with each thrust, nipples hard and begging for attention. He grasped them and squeezed, playing with them, stroking them. I looked down at our where our bodies joined, watching my tight milf pussy stretch around his pole.

“God yes,” I moaned, my fingers digging into his back as I arched against him, my body trembling. “Fuck me harder, John.” I cried out, whimpering as sent his hard pole thrusting in and out of my core sent me spiraling toward climax. “Oh God! Oh fuck! John! FUCK ME, MY DARLING BOY!” I screamed, my body tightening around him, my pussy clenching so hard it nearly stole his breath. My first orgasm in over a decade hit me like a wave, my back arching off the couch as I came with a series of broken moans, my nails raking down his back as I rode out the pleasure. My son didn’t slow down, fucking me through it all, his dick feeling like it was getting harder in response to my every gasp and whimper. I knew then that I was a perfect milf, everything he had wanted; I couldn't resist him and I didn't want to try. I thrust my hips at his again and again, and finally he came inside me, burying himself deep as his cock pulsed. I moaned as shot after shot splashed deep inside me, smiling up at him, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm.

"Oh…god…" I whispered, my voice hoarse and shaky as I held him, his hard dick fully inside me. "That...that was incredible. It's been so long..." I panted softly, my body still shaking from the aftershocks of my orgasm, his cock still buried deep inside me, my breasts pressed into his chest, my breath warm against his chest. I felt his hot cream within me and knew I needed to ask him how he would be using me.

“John, do you want me to be a milf twice over?” I whispered, my voice husky with need as I felt his seed swirl inside me.

“Huh? What does that even mean?” he asked, confused.

“I'm asking if you want me to give you a little brother or sister?” I clarified, my legs tightening slightly around his waist. "Or would that be a son or daughter? Either way, if you want a baby, I’d be happy for you to use me to give one to you,” I said, pulling him in deeper, stirring his hot cum inside me with his hard pole.

"No," he said firmly. "God, I don't want kids. Can't everyone just hold on until I say so?" he asked, with a touch of annoyance in his voice.

“Okay, son,” I murmured, as I felt his spunk inside me vanish. “You can use everyone however you want. No kids until you ask for them," I said, only felling a seconds regret as I felt the cum inside me vanish. "Now be a good son and fuck your milf mommy more,” I begged, rocking against him. “Please… I need it. I need more.”

“Fuck, of cour... Wait, you want me to fuck you again?” he asked in surprised tone. "You're not asking me how I want to use you?"

"Of course, if you want to use me, just let me know," I replied , laughing softly. “But you're already using me. I'm a perfect milf, just like you said. A perfect milf always wants more, and a perfect milf isn't going to hesitate to ask,” I added, my voice thick with need.

“Fucking you is the best, mom” he declared, his cock throbbing with desire inside me. "Even better than fucking Amy," he added. I smiled, I was doing a good job being used and also happy he had been using his sister. He pulled out slowly, teasing me with the tip of his cock, before slamming back into me. I gasped, pulling him to me as he set a relentless pace, my breasts rubbing along his chest with each movement, my nipples hard and aching for attention. I leaned back into the couch cushions and reached up, cupping them in my hands, squeezing gently as I arched my back, offering myself to him completely.

"Fuck, mom," he groaned, his voice dripping with desire. "You feel so good, so tight around me." The sound of our skin slapping together filled the room as his hips rhythmically collided with my own, counterpoint to our ragged breaths and exclamations of pleasure. I could feel every inch of his long hard, thick meat inside me, stretching me wide, filling me completely.

"Fuck me harder, John. Harder!" I gasped, my voice breathless and needy, my hands gripping his hips, pulling him deeper into me with every thrust. "Fuck your mother," I gasped, my voice hoarse with desire. His thrusts becoming more urgent, more ****. "Harder, John. Faster! Make your mother cum!" I cried, feeling his cock throbbing inside me, his cum building, and I knew that soon, we would both find our release together once more. "Fill mommy's pussy again. Fill me with my son's hot cream!"

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice filled with lust. His hands found my breasts again, squeezing them gently before pinching my nipples between his fingers, making me gasp, body trembling and back arching, rolling them between his fingers, my own orgasm building with every thrust, every touch, every word he whispered in my ear. "You're so tight, mom. So fucking perfect," he gasped, voice filled with lust as he buried himself deep inside me, his cock pulsing as he came.

"Oh course, I'm your perfect milf!" I cried as I felt his cum filling me again, warm and thick. I moaned softly, my body trembling with the aftershocks of my own orgasm. "That's how you're using me," I got out breathlessly as we collapsed onto the couch, breathing hard. John lay heavily against me, a pleasant pressure, but one that I prepared not to have on me for too long. I rolled us over so I was on top, letting him rest in the cushions of the couch, his hard dick joining us together, as I rested against his chest.