Your instinct replies for you

Your breaths mingle in a sensual moan as your tongues dance together, intertwining one on the other, and the taste of your mom's lips floods your palate.

Your mom is kissing you; and it's not a motherly kiss, or a quick childlike peck. No, it's a French kiss, a luscious, fervent French kiss, the one that two lovers share at the beginning of copulation. You've experienced this before with her, just last night, though you were using Kim's body, and she was possessed by Tina.

But this time it's different. There's no Tina, no you pretending. This is your real Mom who is willingly sharing this kiss with the real you. And yes, you know that she's doing this out of a wrong assumption - that it comes all from her straight mind - but your dick only recognizes the fingers that are groping it, not the ratio behind them. The morality, perhaps; or the gray zone you're in, to be more precise; but it only makes it even more excited.

Your Mom breaks the kiss, though she keeps you close, her hands now caressing your chest and your head.

-Oh, honey.~ Her voice is laden with passion, yet tinged with shame and sorrow.

-This is not your first time with a woman, isn't it?-.

You hold your breath at that question. Up to yesterday, you were a virgin - meaning, you scored the second base more than once, and you had a third base encounter with a pretty girl during a late-night party at high school, but you never put the bread in the oven. Then, last night, everything changed, though you were 'differently equipped', to use a euphemism.

Your mother interprets your silence as embarrassment and reassures you: -It's alright, I didn't mean to judge, sweetie. It's just... you are very good with your mouth.-.

-Mom...-.

-You know, if it weren't... wrong... I'd be happy to know that a handsome, young boy like you still finds me attractive, even at my age...-.

You gasp, both for her touch and her implications. So, if you weren't her son...?

-You're not old, mom. You are still very beautiful.-.

A blush colors her cheeks.

-Thank you, dear. Could you... could you keep flattering me? It's just that... it helps me, I think.-.

A smirk tugs at your lips. The knowledge that you can finally express what you've secretly thought about her, because she's demanding it... oh, poor, poor Jessica. She said that she was doing this to help you get rid of your feelings; but you already know that it will only fuel them. You should tell her, you should confess to her this. A good son would.

-I love your curves, Mom. They're so enticing and well-defined. I love running my hands over them.-.

A little groan slips out of her lips.

-My dress...- She starts; it's the tight red minidress that you've chosen for her after the shower: -Do you like to... to see my curves... enclosed in my dress?-.

You nod.

-Why did you choose it?- You dare to ask.

She pauses, not to reflect, but to emit a deep whiff.

-Maybe... maybe I wanted you to watch me this way. Your father... he adored to talk to me like this, and to look at me like this. You... you look like him when he was young. I think this is why...- this is why it's working, she wants to say. But you know she's trying to divert from the real topic.

-I'm not Dad.- You whisper. It's a hazard, it could definitively shatter the mood, bringing her back to reason. But it pays off, as you can check on her bashful visage.

Slowly, carefully, she lifts her dress all the way up to her arms, revealing that red lingerie combo which she believes she chose herself. If possible, after you've felt those boobs against your skin, after you had those boobs hanging from your chest, after you experienced what it means to fondle them with your bare hands, after all of this, these concealed assets appear even more attractive, emphasized by her daring bra and timid pose.

Now that you think about it, there's something you haven't tried yet, even if you've been in her body for hours. You lower her cups, revealing those juicy nipples that'll never stop to amaze you, and then you push your mouth onto one of them, sucking as if you were a baby needing mother milk. You feel your mom's fingers closing on your wrist, her mouth hissing teeth-gritted.

You wonder if when you were a baby and she truly breastfed you, it tasted the same. Who knows. Regardless, it's unfair that such pleasure should be forbidden just because you've grown up. It's the same mouth, the same tits , after all. If it wasn't wrong at that time, it shouldn't be wrong now as well.

-Honey~~~ She gasps as you press your tongue onto the turgid nipple, twisting it much to your mother's panting pleasure.

-I-Is this what you desired? Ah! Oh, I can't believe I'm saying that, but... ahh... it never feels this good with your dad...-.

You don't need anything else. You know that at this point she will never back down. Therefore, you push her backward, making her lie on her back, your tongue still teasing her teat, while with your hand you're fidgeting with her panties, until they're gone. Even with your greasy and rough fingers, you immediately recognize the soft flesh they're now brushing against, while your mother's cries rise to a pitch, and her hands unrestingly move on your head and your chest.

-Ahh!!! T-Tom, Tom!!!- Her jaw is trembling, every micro movement of your fingers translating into another moan. You lift up your face, locking your eyes with hers, a pair of pleading gems that she would never have expected to turn to her son one day. You can read it inside of them, and also your same need not to stop, to continue this carnal sin, until it will be too late to regret it.

As if to seal this intention of yours, you, a mother and her son, stamp your lips onto each other, an intense kiss that is renewed after every second you have to pause to catch your breath. This kiss tells you everything - she has surrendered to the pleasure, she has accepted you as her sacrilegious lover, and she's ready to cheat on her own husband for the seed of their marriage.

-Mom.- You speak looking at her straight in the eyes: -I want to taste your pussy. Will you let me taste your pussy?-.

-Tom... oh, my beloved son... yes... yes, taste it, taste your mother's pussy...~ Her words come out like a chant.

Your mouth travels down her waist, while she prepares herself spreading her legs in an M shape. Your mom's smelly vagina glistens before your eyes, a trimmed bush coronating her folds competently worn out by the years, the same ones that gave birth to you many years ago. It's almost unbelievable to think that you were so tiny once, but big enough for her hole to stretch out to an incredible radius which you can hardly imagine.

Now, of that circumference, only this small rim here is left. But, your fantasy wonders, maybe it will let you settle back inside, if you'll do it little by little. With this thought in mind, you press her lips onto hers, just the way you did last night with Kim's mouth, and then you start jawing and digging in with your tongue, licking all around like a bear with a hive.

Your mother's gasps grow restlessly, and you can feel the density of her gaze upon you. Even if you've been her up to five minutes ago, you really can't imagine what she sees by looking at you now. Does she see the child she cared for and raised for 19 years? Or the man that you've become and who is now orally pleasuring her clitoris?

No; actually, you know that. You know it by the way she's holding her legs spread, by the wild throbbing of her vulva, and by her moans which are turning into squeals.

-My little man!!! Ohhh!!!- Her entire body shudders like being struck by an electric shock, and as you retreat and rest your back on the pillow you can admire her face losing that little composure that was left into a pure blissed expression. This is your mother, now. This sweaty, panting woman, who you had just made orgasm on her couch, and whose groans are still filling your ears.

Damn. Your penis is killing you, still enclasped inside your trousers. For the second time in a row, it is released in the air of the Harris' living room, your hands tingling in anticipation, used to be the only outlet for its tension. But this time is different, since your mom is turning around and crawling on her knees, breathing fire from her nostrils. Her little mouth is dangling open at the sight of your manhood, and you can distinguish it - pride - in her eyes.

-Tom... oh, sweetheart, you are so big...-.

You know what she's doing a moment before she acts. Her mouth engulfs your springing cock, descending on its length and sucking in with her cheeks to milk it thoroughly.

The moment that you've dreamed of during your entire puberty is now coming to reality.

Your mother is blowing you.

You grunt, one of those snorts that a male animal does to turn on his female in heat. What is better is not simply the sensation, which is of course inebriant. Instead, it's the fact that she didn't have to. This is not you trying to build her up her excitement, neither it's her giving you a taste of her forbidden fruit to convince you of something.

No: this is her swallowing your cock, because she wants it, because she likes it. And she really likes it, so much that she grabs your shaft to accompany her mouth's motion with her hand, speeding up the pace at which your tip slams onto her uvula.

You're about to cum. You wish to, you need to, but at the same time you don't want to, not now, not yet. If only you could - maybe you can? You can feel your goo form ready to squirt out with your sperm, but maybe you can use it for the opposite, to keep all of it in there. Somehow, you sense that the goo creates a pellicle, and your organ keeps raging on despite the mindfuck blowjob you're receiving.

Eventually, your mother reluctantly pulls away. She looks... hurt, she might have hoped you'd finish earlier, so to end it up like this. But you see that she's forcing herself to act like this. She can't hide her amazement, the thrill of such a young and lively dick being still far from being over. And it's her son's one. Her big boy's.

-Mom.- You call her again, your voice filled with desire.

-Tom.- She replies samely. No more words are needed; the desire is mutual. She tosses aside her bra and heels, and, fully naked, positions herself above your erection, feet on either side, ready to squat. She turns her sinuous back to you, where the curls of her blonde hair sway with every tremor.

Her mouth forms an 'o' as the tip of your penis slides into her moistness, while her soft rear brushes against your stomach. You hold onto her hips, supporting her as you place kisses along her ribs, savoring the saltiness of her skin.

She goes down for a bit, then moves up, then down again, this time pushing herself deeper, and so on, her rhythm accelerating while she blows on her teeth to bear it longer.

Your mother is impaling herself on your cock. Your lines still hold.

-Ohh... ohh I can't believe it... my son is... my son is making me feel so goooood!!!-.

A surge of power fills you as you listen to those words. She's hovering over you, and with a sudden movement, you thrust your hips, burying your manhood deep inside her. She cries out, and you guide her to the side, causing her to lie down on her hip while you follow her and continue thrusting from behind.

You pump vigorously, as if there's no tomorrow, as if your life depends on it.

-T-Tooom d-don't stop pl-pleeeaseee!- She shouts, devoid of the woman you knew. In an act of momentary lucidity, she manages to straighten up her head, her fingers circling around her clit while the other hand plays with her breasts.

-I had no idea... I had no idea...!!!- Of what, that you had all of this inside of you, that you were so good, that she craved for this too? Whatever it is, her mind is racing, and soon she crumbles down again, her arms flailing, her mouth howling your name, your hand grasps her neck and then the membrane breaks, and your seed finally flows into her urethra.

At this moment, it's like the control that you maintained up to this point has totally collapsed onto itself. Your only thought now is to eject every single drop of sperm that is emptying your balls. In the shaking of the moment, you feel your penis slipping out of her vagina, but her fingers quickly grab it, redirecting your spurt on her waist.

Your mother truly knows her deed. With deep, decisive jerks, she drives out your last shots that paint a Pollock-like pattern on her abdomen.

This feeling, this orgasm, is completely different from the ones you've experienced from inside her skin. But may you be damned if you'll ever decide to disclaim it.

Her hand is still around your chunk, you insert yours in the between; an almost romantic scene, her palm cupping your torso, if it wasn't for the incestuous escapade that has just happened. Her lips curl into a satisfied smile, and you saw her memories, your father never makes her smile like that.

Well, now comes the afterplay. You crawl toward the different corners of the couch, and you groggily redress, without much hurry. Your mother, instead, looks to be still basking in the post-coital bliss. She'll need a shower, her couch is ruined, and she might catch a cold in her current state. Yet, she looks like the happiest person in the world.