Wet Dreams of Mommy by eternalone

Rating: 100%, Read 408 times, Posted Mar 01, 2023

Fiction | Incest, Non-consensual sex

RWS #16 Bill was 33, having wet dreams about his mother, trying to convince himself they were not about the obvious, rather had some deep Freudian meaning. This is the same guy who, ever since High School graduation, got a hardon any time his mother gave him a hug. It was especially bad when she was dressed up, like a family wedding. Actually, just standing next to her, if they rubbed elbows, or her scent were particularly effective, erection city.
Historically, over the millennia, the age of 33 is often a pivotal age in the spiritual progress of noteworthy men. Not that Bill was a noteworthy man, but even ordinary men can have pivotal moments in their spiritual lives. Awakening, or climaxes, and age 33 does coincide with Bill’s recognition of his…interest…in his mother’s sexual activity…and how it might coincide with his own.
The first step to a solution, is recognizing the problem.

The problem was, he was obsessed with fucking his mother. He did not want a one-time event. No one night stands, it had to be ongoing. He wanted to pause while passing, getting a hug, cop a feel of nice mommy tits. In his darkest moments, he felt like an old leacher, crooked fingers clutching the breast of some innocent, some vulnerable waif, whispering in her ear “I have warm soup for you. Bread too, fresh bread, with melting butter. You can eat when we are done. I won’t be long, with a pretty such as you. You can start me with your little hand, I like that. I’ll give you a glass of wine if you put it in your mouth right at the end. The same for your father as well, who had been kind enough to arrange this meeting. You don’t have to say anything, let me put your hand on it. Yes, there it is…that’s good…see how its getting harder… pull it out dear, don’t be shy, you’re among friends…yes, your fingers feel good like that…now up and down, you know how to do this, just like for daddy…that’s it honey…yeah…see, I knew you knew..just how…to make…a man feel happy…it you want the wine, you’d better get down there.
Wine for her and daddy with one for the road, because she was so neat and tidy.
Bill’s mother was a senior citizen, not some waif.

Not all lechers are old.
Sometimes he feels like a young lecher. Like the high school kid, eyeing the school Librarian. She’s old, like his parents, wears high heels, dresses perfectly, with special jewelry that matches the outfit, hair always perfect. He waits for the school assembly, everyone is at the other end of the building, except her. He goes in, quietly locks the door, gets her to go back in the book shelves, then corners her against the wall. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want a little feel. No one will know, our little secret. Ask the girls, that go under the bleachers with us, to let us feel them up, no one gets hurt. Come on, don't fight me. Nice skirt you’re wearing today, I’ve been watching you. Yeah, that’s not so bad, is it. Panties feel kind of special, like lace, huh? When I’m feeling a nice pussy, I like to suck on titties. You’ve got a nice pair. Do you want to unbutton your blouse, or should I chew your buttons off. Yeah, that’s it. Geez, I’ll bet your husband likes these. We won’t tell him about today. Scoop one of those puppies out for me. Damn, you’re giving me a hardon. You’re sexy as hell, for an old broad. I’m bet you’re good in bed. I hope your hubby treats you good. I’ll bet you treat him good. You know, those girls that go under the bleachers, they’re real friendly. I bet you can be real friendly. I’m stuck with that hardon you gave me. Why don’t you be friendly, and take care of it for me. Come on, don’t be that way. I’m not going to hurt you, just play nice. Here, I pulled it out for you. Don’t fight me now, it will all be over soon. Feel how hard it is, yeah, not so bad. You like that, huh. Let me have a kiss first. No? Well you’re going to kiss my cock, or you might have some bruises to explain. That’s it, down on your knees. Watch those teeth. Look at that, you like young meat. Don’t look at me like that. You know what to do. Ohhh yeah, man does that feel good. Hey, you want me to cum on your titties? No? Worried about your blouse, huh. Don’t worry, no mess. You can take care of it. Don’t slow down…you got it…right there…ready?...”

Middle aged married guys can be leachers. Like the guy that pushes his wife, to do things she does not want to. At his school reunion. “Come on honey, like when we were kids, find a dark corner to make out. Yeah, over here, no one comes way back here. Come on honey, you know what I like. Don’t make me beg, you know how that makes me feel. Ah, thanks baby, I knew you understood. It’ll be hard any minute, just put it in…yeah…oh baby…so good…get ready for it babe. I know you want it.”
He shoots his load, and before the misses can stand up, cat-calls from down the hall. Hubby had his friends watching the whole thing.

To an impartial observer, if there a woman worth having a wet dream about, Bill’s mother would be on the list.
She was a real knockout, back in the day. Built like a brick shithouse.
Pauline was hired as window dressing. Some women might have been ashamed or embarrassed, Pauline wore it like a badge of honor. The year she was hired, the corporate budget had a line called “Window Dressing”. Within the expenditures was a line with her name on it, and her salary for the year. On the floor they called her “Receptionist”, but she was hired to be just window dressing up front, to please the visitors. It turned out she had not only good looks, with excellent taste in clothing, but a mind as well. Within two years she was in charge of all the clerical staff on the floor. Within a few years she was over all the clerical staff in the building, and she did it all on merit. She never dropped her drawers or dropped to her knees for any man. They stopped trying after the first year.

Pauline had invested wisely, had money from her deceased spouse, and retired early, at 55.
After a lifetime of good decisions, she made a very bad decision in picking a man. A con man took six months to clean her out. All of her savings, and even her home. She was forced to live on her monthly income. She reached out to her son, who invited her to live with him.
She was drinking wine, starting earlier and earlier.
Bill saw opportunity.
When she first moved in, he had an adjustment period, jerking off like an adolescent, until he got desensitized to the cause of his wet dreams, and spontaneous emissions. Her scent became common place, and stopped giving him an erection. She was not dressing professional, that subdued his urges. She was dressing very casually, stopped wearing makeup. She had also taken to having some wine with supper, which became wine with lunch.

One Saturday she went out with friends, came home three sheets to the wind, soused.
Bill greeted her at the door, took her from her friends, hoping they did not notice his erection. His mother was leaning on him as he guided her to her bedroom.
Her tits were practically falling out of her blouse, or so it seemed to him. They were practically asking to be held, and he answered the call, pawing them, running his hand over them. She was in and out, aware of where they were, then asking where her friends went. His groping went unnoticed, even when he brushed his nightstick against her hips or buns, or even in the crack of her ass.
“Let’s get you ready for bed.”
“It’s too early. Let’s have another drink.”
“First we’ll get you ready, okay.”
Half awake, half passed out, she lets her son unbutton her blouse. He pulls it open, to expose those headlights of hers. They are starting to sag a little, but still a fine set of knockers. He runs the palm of his hands over the globes, as he reaches behind her to undo her bra.
“You should be behind me, silly.”
His face is so close to her, his cheek brushes hers, and his cock shouts with joy.
Her breath smells of wine, but it is her breath.
With the bra released, globes drop, and hang, naked, for all to see. Bill sees, he takes a chance, holds one. Takes a nipple between thumb and index fingers, and rolls it, feeling the different levels of flesh. Breast of the mature woman, soft skin compared to his own, but leather compared to some tits he had nursed on. The value of these was in their fullness, ripe melons, truly ready for harvest, and not past their prime. Milk sacks that need no milk to satisfy the hunger of a man. Let him nurse on one, sucking from the nipple as if imaginary nutrients are sent by the gods. Delivered through this angel, while he fondles the other, preparing it for his adoration.
These are beautiful, but they are not perfect. Like us, they have developed flaws, a mole, or occasional stray hair, but these imperfections add to their charm, for the dedicated admirer.
The breasts of a young tart, still rising, appear as perfect little sloops, as pure as the finest China, flawless. They display the idealism of youth, whereas mature works of art, such as this, display the wisdom of experience.
The holder of these youthful works of art, share them indiscriminately, lacking an accurate understanding of their value. Mature ladies understand their value, and are not inclined to share indiscriminately.
Bill believes they do this to a fault.
On the face of it, it is so obvious. Except, this taboo, that does not really apply to them, because they are not kids. All that stuff about incest is about two things: Protect the kids, and do not make inbred babies. Neither of those applies to them. The logic is so simple. First, the taboo does not apply. Second, this is just like, “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours”, two adults, maybe not back-scratching, but foot rubs, same thing. Except you do not stop at the feet, you go up the leg to...
He tried to suggest it to his mother, who loves logic, but she stopped him at foot rubs.
She loves pragmatic solutions, and he told her that would solve so many problems. He would no longer charge her rent, and if she moves into his bedroom, she can turn her bedroom into a sewing room. Just win-win all around.
He felt that she just needed a little push, and she would be on board. The right encouragement, and she would at least try it, and if she likes it, do it again. He knows he can have her crawling into his bed at night, naked as a jaybird, kitty ready to play, if they can just cross that first threshold. If he can get her to take his cum, by mouth or sweet honeypot, he will have her in his bed within a week. A hand job is almost as good, if he can suck the beautiful milk sacks while she is cranking up his piston.
She has been impervious to his suggestions, with her resorting to name calling. It is difficult explaining to your friends why your mother is calling you a pervert. He held out hope, that opportunity would come knocking.
Knock – knock.
He was answering.
She was in no condition to object, and, who knows, she might not object.
As they say, easier to ask forgiveness, than to ask permission. Things would resolve themselves favorably, he was confident of that. He would have fun trying regardless, he was even surer of that.
He had waited long enough.

He sat on the bed with her, held her close, cheek to cheek, one hand behind her back, the other exploring Mother’s bounty. The twin peaks are a marvelous tribute to womanhood. He holds a melon, massages it in his hand, slow, soft and relaxing. Mommy mumbles something about feeling good, but then opens her eyes, and changes her mind.
“William! What are you doing.”
“Nothing Mom. We’re just getting you ready for bed. Let’s take your skirt off.”
“I can do this myself. You need to leave. Go on.”
Bill stands up and watches as his mother falls back on the bed, out cold.
He gets her skirt and pantyhose off, then sits her up, to remove her blouse and bra.
“Oh, Billy, there you are, don’t leave me. Help me with this.”
Bill helps the drunk finish stripping down to her panties, then feels a tit again.
“Billy, don’t tease me.”
He is not teasing, Bill likes the feel. He keeps at it, both of them. He had been patient, but waiting is over. He mouth wants in on this, and he sucks a mound into his mouth, Mommy objects, she tries to push his face away. He drops her on her back, puppies love continues, they have been going to waste, he tells her so.
“I’m not going to hurt you, what’s your problem?”
Drunks are not reasonable people. She continues her objections, struggling, as if she can win.
Bill has had enough.
He is up and off of her, she thinks she has won.
He takes his time as he undresses, with eyes on the prize. She has closed her eyes again, she probably does not realize she is wearing panties, but nothing else. Not a perfect body, cellulite forming, some love handles, and a tummy, all is understandable given her age. Not every man would want her, but he does.
He does not know why or how his obsession started. While he was in high school, a teenager, he never thought about her that way, but his body, had a mind of its own.

He had been fighting the urges creeping into his mind. Any time he masturbated, she came into the fantasy. Whether films, photos, or books, she was the one, when the cum came. He stopped masturbating completely, and that made it worse. It had not even been two weeks, some photos of her, wedding photos for Pete’s sake. Realized he was staring at them, he had a spontaneous emission, middle of the day, in the living room. It did not feel like a full orgasm. He excused himself, and went to the bathroom, it was a little shot of pre-cum.
He finally resigned himself to the situation, and she was his main crush for masturbation.

He had not arrived in this situation spontaneously. He did not plot the exact scenario that put him here, but he knew he would be here, him wearing nothing but hard cock, at his mother in bed, about to be serviced by an admirer.
He pulled her panties off, delicately. No need to wake her, yet.
With her legs dangling over the edge of the bed, they are naturally spread, inviting…for an inspection.
Bill sat on the floor, at the side of his mother’s bed, and inspected his mother’s private parts. Petting the outside, furry little box. Fingers probe the inside, give him a tingling feeling. She stirred, and he planted his face in the hairy honey hole. Fingers parted the outer lips, and his tongue lapped the flesh, slightly salty. Lips kissed dear Mother’s treasured piece, he started slow, but his enthusiasm betrayed him. He was devouring her sexuality like an ill mannered pup.
She made an attempt to awaken, but that was delayed.
Her hands searched out her benefactor, laid hands on him, that he might continue his good work.
Asleep or awake, she was not sure. The hair on the head felt real, the slurps and trough noises are real. She enjoys it, not worrying about how she came to be in this situation.
The haphazardly start takes direction when he finds Mommy’s sweet spot. He teases it, to be sure, scours the inside for any residue of her essence.
He at once, adores his mother, and resents her. His resentment is based on his what he considers unfair treatment. It is a pile of minor oversights, or accidental events. To an outsider, nothing to hold a grudge about. To Bill, betrayal of his mother, because of his step-father.
The other participants, or witnesses, to the events leading up to this are gone, deceased, or parts unknown. Just the two of them, to sort things. As usual, he considered his mother to be unreasonable.
As the foreign invader continued to successfully woo it’s intended, the intended began to come around to consciousness. It would be premature to say she was awake. The wine was fresh on her breath, and her mind as well.
She tried to remember how she might be in this position, when did it start. Those thoughts were washed away, by the eager tongue of this charming man, whoever he was.
His attention, had her attention. He seemed to do everything right, as if they had done this many times before.
She tried to raise her head, too much work. Lay back, and enjoy. Her fingertips locked on his head, as she had a wonderful orgasm. The male mouth organ backed out, from a job well done. Then a kiss, in appreciation of mature beauty, and more kisses, making a trail across her orange peal tummy, to her other ripe fruit, pausing there for more displays of adoration.
Mommy starts seeing through the haze and fog of the alcohol, her mind realizes what her eyes have been seeing. Her son is raping her.
She screams.
“My god William, what are you doing? Let go of me!”
He was prepared, therefore quicker than she.
She was already on her back on the bed. He was up and sitting on her pelvis, his pubes comingling with hers. His hands attached to her wrists. Her legs were useless, kick all she wants, it just makes her tired.
He does not try to talk over her. He ignores her babbling, and she grows tired, and her eyes close, and asleep again, he can
do as he wishes.
He was not going to ask for a lot, if she was nice about it. But now this, her not seeing his side of it at all, he decided he deserved a bigger piece. He said -She said. Worth the risk, might be a once in a lifetime event. The stuff of memories.

He dismounts, and fingers the goods. Nice. The reluctant participant seems unaware of two fingers, but more is offered.
He points his pointer to the center of the briar patch. Pointer goes up and down at the gate, defining the entrance that was his entrance into the world. As he starts in, he locks his hands on her hips, and pulls her to the bed’s edge. He is pulling her onto his post, and he taps that post in, to the very bottom. He plants it solidly, so there is no mistake. He lays claim by right of possession. Nothing from the quiet one, still napping.
Generous son pulls back, then down in, just as deep, and an extra bump. No reaction. New plan.
Generous son wants some kindness, he pumps Mommy’s box, for his own selfish pleasure. She is unaware, but it is a nice fit, much nicer than a friendly hand, and certainly better than an unwilling mouth.
He watches her face as he pumps his way to familial ecstasy.
When he knows consummation is immanent, he makes another attempt to make their bonding more balanced.
“You’ve still got it Mom!”
She did not hear him, and when he shot his family seed into her, she was unaware, for better, or worse.
The absolute best time he ever had with his Mom, and she slept through it.

After he had done the deed, he decided to continue being a gentleman, and he put her pajamas on her, before covering her with a sheet.
He went to the kitchen, and got a beer, to reflect on the day’s events.
“Damn!”
The bottle is tipped, and held, until empty, then tossed in the bin.
“That’s the best fuck I ever had, in my life. No shit!”
Another beer, to travel to the living room. Before he sits down, another tip of the bottle, that becomes empty, and another trip to the bin, then fridge.
With his third beer by his side, he sits down for that refection, and falls asleep, blissfully.

He awakens to the sound of his lover’s voice.
“Bill, we’ll need creamer before tomorrow.”
“Okay Mom. I guess I fell asleep in the recliner last night.”
“What a night. What time did I get in?”
“It was a little before midnight. Seems like you had a good time.”
“Yeah, what I can remember.”
His mother was clueless, she had no idea what happened.

He did overhear part of a phone conversation later that day.
“I know the difference between wet from dancing and wet from cum. This was cum I tell you. How long was I gone with that guy?”
“I don’t know. Yeah he was nice. But - I don’t remember anything. Yeah, well, keep an eye on me the next time we go out. Oh yeah, a great time, we need to do it again.”

Mental note, clean up the cum trails.
Bill decided to lay low for a while, to plan his next move. That evening, another knock from Lady opportunity.
He watched his mother hit the wine again, by 9:00 she was nodding off. Low hanging, ripe fruit, such temptations are difficult to ignore. Bill slides down the couch, and puts a hand on her thigh, then shakes it a little. No response. He goes to the fruit and handles it, checking for fullness, ripeness, then the other, equally nice. He unbuttons her blouse, slips a hand inside the bra cup, and fondles. Erection needs satisfied.
He tells her it is bedtime, and gets her up, and back to her bedroom. She mumbles, unintelligible words, as she sits on the bed, then falls back.
Bill knows where this is going, so he strips down, piles his clothes by the door.
He undresses his mother, brushing his cock against her at every opportunity.
Feeling her tits, at every opportunity. Nice tits, mature nipples, feel so nice in the hand. Unable to resist, he kisses a nipple, even sucks on it.
He gets her up in bed, lays beside her, feeling her muff with one hand, his pecker with the other, and the two shall become one.
He needs to fuck her again. No surprise.
Face plant in pussy, need to lube the portal. Time for some Mommy pie. Bill goes prone between his mother’s legs, to have a snack at the “Y”. This is a quick lube job, in and out, no celestial angels singing, that will be later, with a little luck.
He slurps around, licks her up like a four-year-old with an all-day sucker. She is wet, he has been hard, planting time again.
On his knees between her legs, he pushes it in her gash. He pauses, to look up at her beautiful face. He wants her eyes open.
He starts pumping, but moving the gear shifter around, looking for that special gear, that makes Mom happy. Her eyelids flutter, then they close, and she smiles, then her eyes open again, and see her son, the rapist. She screams.
“William! Get off me!”
“Easy Mom. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Get off me! What are you doing! Where’s your father?”

Progress is halted.
“Daddy’s been dead Momma. I’m here for you now Momma. I’m here for you. I made you feel good last night. Let me do it again.”

Pauline stopped complaining, confused, the wine guiding her lack of understanding. The wine, giving her freedom from inhibitions she would have felt. The wine…The wine…, she will blame it on the wine.
Her son should get primary blame. It was his tool giving her the pleasure, with expectations of a bigger payoff, fortifying their socially unacceptable relationship, with gobs of goo.
The gobs of goo in her were not from a stranger, but from her own son. She must have enjoyed it. Somehow he talked her into spreading her legs for him, and they became intimate. She did not remember it, but her son would not lie about something like that.
She may have invited him into her bed.
She had been thinking such wicked thoughts. She tried not to, but he was her knight to the rescue. When they first reunited, she felt something when they touched, almost a spark.
She probably came home, started flirting with him, one thing led to another, and she pulled him into her bedroom.
Now, here she was blaming him, when it could have as easily been her fault.

It felt good.
She wrapped her legs around him, and held him close, as he did the in-out with her, with all his heart.
She could feel the love coming from him, the steady rhythm.
“Is this good?”
“Yeah baby, real good.”
Such a good son. Momma has not felt this good in a long time…that she can remember.
He can tell he is getting her there, but he is having problems holding himself back. He tries to think about something else, but with his Mother under him, urging him on, he could not hold back, he spewed gobs of goo that made Mommy warm inside, but his tool took a break, with Mommy still wanting.
Mommy was once again drifting off as the good son replaced his bone with the hungry puppy.
She seemed to be in agreement with his plan, he wanted her to finish that night, with full satisfaction.
He kissed the outside, before entry, licked the drainage, and continued on with the cleaning of the gutter. His mouth needed no help making her wet. It resented foreign intrusion, even his own. He cleaned her out. In some recesses, he believes he is tidying up yesterday’s residue, as there is a slightly different flavor. As he touches on all interior corners, she stirs a little, rolling on her buns and hips. He gives her more like that, and her forward thrusts become stronger, harder. In her semi-consciousness, her hands find his head, to remind her this is not a dream. She knows this is her son, but does not want to believe it. She wants it to be a dream. But her dreams did not start until several minutes after her orgasm.
In her mind, they were stitched together.

Bill was up and cheery, and had his first cup of coffee before his mother came out.
He had her cup ready, just the right amount of cream. All she has to do is add coffee.
“Thanks Bill.”
She pours herself a full cup, and sits down.
“Did you see the end of that movie we were watching? I fell asleep.”
“Yeah, the sheriff was in on it.”
“Figures.”

She has no memory of last evening’s conjugal visit. Back to start, and he is fine with that.
He buys another case of wine, it seems to help with motivation.
Bill takes a couple nights off, encourages his mother to go easy on the grapes. She does, by the third night she has developed a thirst. She tells herself it is the wine she misses, but it may be her son’s cock.
She has not been having those wonderful dreams, that make her so wet inside. It feels so real, sometimes it is a stranger, sometimes it is her son. The feeling is the same.
It seems the wine brings on a deeper sleep, and the dreams.
She has her usual, half way through the second bottle.
She moves down the couch, close to her son. She holds onto his arm, feeling safe and secure. She is floating in the wine sea, eyes closed, when she recognizes the smell, as being the same as the stranger who delivers pleasure to her. It takes a while for one plus one to equal two.
Lightbulb!
They have been intimate, she and her son.
She takes another drink of wine, to settle her nerves, to help her remember, maybe to remove her inhibitions.
In the shadowy past, bits and pieces emerge, still remembering how it started. Did she make a pass at her own son? Did he misunderstand some innocent comment she made? Did he instigate something that led to the bedroom?
Another drink of wine.
Does it even matter who started it. She recalls feeling like a woman, being loved by a man. Two adults being intimate, with no possibility of making an inbred, so where is the issue? She read that somewhere, or something.
Another drink of wine.
Time for honesty.
Her hand goes to his thigh as she starts talking.
“Maybe I should do something for you.”
The hand explains the details, by rubbing the lump in his crotch.
The lump gets the message, and starts taking form.
“I was hoping you would feel that way.”
Bill undid his belt buckle and snap, and pulled his zipper down, and splayed his pants.
“Let’s do this in my bedroom.”

Bill likes the change of plans, things are moving along nicely. She is starting to remember, just enough.
They go to her bedroom, she strips down to bra and panties, he is butt naked.
She sends him out for more wine, and has another sip. She gets in position, and falls asleep, passes out. She overdid the wine.
He is in the mood, and not willing to let the moment pass. He has been here before, knows what to expect from her, and can talk his way out of anything, with a drunk mother.
He backs up, so he is leaning against the headboard, and pulls Mommy back between his legs, for some intimate spooning. He lifts her up, and undoes the bra, before pulling her back against him.
He takes a moment to play with her full tits. They feel better than they look. He nuzzles his cheek against hers. This could be such a tender moment, if she were conscious. He felt the nipples, if he squeezed too hard, she jerks, so he is careful.
One hand went down, over her tummy, and under the waistband of her panties. He felt her pubes, and his middle finger found the groove that was the gateway. His finger sawed back and forth, invading the sleeping queen at her most private point. A helpful finger might prepare the way, for that flesh pole rubbing her back.
He was enveloping his mother, more than just a full body hug, he was in her cunt. His cock was smearing precum on her spine, with good reason. His hands on her tits, and now fingers in her pussy, cock was going to fuck that nice pussy again, and no one doubted it, although one of them might be totally unaware.
He used his finger to stimulate her body, her mind followed behind. She had pleasant dreams, of lovers long past.
He extracted himself, removed his mother’s panties, made her comfortable, humped over a pile of pillows, for a nice doggy-style copulation.
He lubed up his shaft with his saliva, and started it in her pussy hole, but after a few pokes, he decided it lacked the intimacy of the missionary position. So, back to on her back, head on a pillow.
Bill took a break, and laid down beside his life-size doll, and played with its tits. Then he sucked a mommy melon, while he fingered her snatch some more. He enjoyed being close to her, running his hands all over her. Touching her lips, he kissed her, but there was no response. It would be a few more hours before the wine would wear off enough. For now, his cock is begging for attention, and it does not want Bill’s hand. It wants that sweet mature honey pot.
He gets in position, and lifts her legs, as he drives his stake into his claim. This is starting to feel like home. In and out, drive it home, in and out, make her cum, in and out, this is yours, in and out, watch her face, in and out, watch her tits, in and out, mother fucker, in and out, mother fucker, in and out, mother fucker…and Momma had the big O, with sonny right behind.
“William! My god, what are you doing? Where is your father?”
Deja Vu, all over again.
The cycle needs to end.

Bill tries to silence his mother by covering her mouth with his, he is still plugged in with Mommy’s juice box.
She resists, keeps her mouth closed, his hands hold her wrists to her side.
His tongue tries to enter her mouth, but she resists, head shaking side to side.
Her pelvis is moving too, all the movement has Bill’s cock showing amazing fortitude, and rising to the occasion, ready to poke around Mommy’s honey hole. Cock and pussy are simpatico, even if Mother and Son are having their differences.
Below the waist, two lovers are reuniting, as hard cock pleases wet pussy.
The faces slowly come to this realization. Mommy’s mouth stops rejecting, her lips soften, they open for her lover’s tongue, she gives him entry, cautiously, still not understanding what is happening. She is fucking, she is returning his passion, it feels so good, so right. Her tongue joins in the passion.
Bill knows his Mother is now fully aware, finally. His fucking is being returned, not by a drunk, but by a woman who enjoys being satisfied.
He continues fucking her, with her awareness, and approval. They are looking into each other’s eyes as Bill cums. It seems each invasion into Mommy’s love box is better, and this one is no exception. Having her awake, made it even better, who would have thought.

She invited him to spend the night with her, because he was such a good son.

RWS – Rear Window Series
****
Welcome to the Rear Window Universe, where everyone is motivated by sexual gratification of themselves or others, and teens are sexually precocious.
These are real people, and real stories, however they represent a very small slice of society. They act on impulses a sane or reasonable person would reject. The chances of these very people living anywhere near you is extremely remote, that is true.

Previous Publications

RWS #1 Bonnie and Grandson Tyler
Family is everything to grandma, when her grandson needed dating advice, role playing leads to fun.
RWS #2 Margo Bonds With Adult Son
A strained relationship with a solution in the bedroom.
RWS #3 Montana Mother Lover, Sister Lover, Neighbor Lover
Teenage boy, raised by a Liberal mother, fucks, fucks, and fucks.
RWS #4 Margo Plays House With Ken
Living the dream, adult son falls in love with his mother, thinks he appreciates his mother’s gorgeous tits more than his father did, same with her cock sucking.
RWS #5 Montana, Margie, Donnie
Margie has a threesome, with her son and his friend.
RWS #6 Gretchen and cuck son
Gretchen’s son likes mommy pussy, but when she demands he suck her lover’s cock, he likes that too.
RWS #7 The Scoutmasters Wife
Trophy wife is drugged with magic mushrooms, sexually ravaged by teen boys, and falls in love with monster-dick.
RWS #8 Veronica loves daddy
Daughter wants what daddy has, work-related, and Daddy wants what Daughter has, bedroom related.
RWS #9 Daddy lover club
Teenage girls find out they have the golden ticket, when they spread their legs for Daddy.
RWS #10 Brent loves family
When you find love in the family, no need to look elsewhere. Mom, Teen niece, and grandma, all fair game.
RWS #11 The doctor's wife
Passive-aggressive trophy wife seeks revenge on pig husband, her son and his friends benefit, and she gets the Monster dick.
RWS #12 Heidi – The Early Years
Vignettes of the adventures of a simple mountain girl, at ages 10, 13, 15.
RWS #13 Aunt Frances
Aunt Frances swore off men, but makes exceptions for her nephew and his friends
RWS #14 Kathleen finds love close to home
Kathy tries to impress a teacher, but Daddy and Brother appreciate her more.
RWS #15 Parking lot hookup
Male cast only, old cock sucker is reunited with that pastime.

Rating: 100%, Read 408 times, Posted Mar 01, 2023

Fiction | Incest, Non-consensual sex