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If you are a parent you have probably read, or even own, What to Expect When You Are Expecting and other self-help parenting books. Many have been very useful over the years, as I raised my two children on my own after my husband’s premature death, when Crystal was four and Michael two. The books were helpful when I struggled to deal with my daughter’s teenage rebellion phase and they were somewhat helpful as I dealt with my son’s coming of age, although truth be told I let my brother help out with that one.

Yet, nothing in any book I have read could have prepared me for what I saw that one fateful day, because I am pretty sure there is no chapter called ‘What To Do When You Catch Your Son Masturbating With Your Stockings’.

I sell real estate and for many reasons I am quite successful; I am hard working, a people’s person and am still quite attractive. The three together are a lethal combination and I have made a very comfortable living for myself and my two children. Sixteen years after Jake had passed, Crystal was in college a couple of hours away, and Michael, who just turned eighteen two weeks before the incident, was in his last two months of high school.

While Crystal was the wild child who did way more partying than studying and who brought me my first grey hair, Michael was shy, geeky and was way more likely to play some computer game than go to a party. I worried about Michael, who was academically very strong and already accepted by some colleges and all on scholarship, but was socially quite inept. He had never had a girlfriend and the only parties he had ever gone to were with his three equally socially challenged friends and included things like Lord of the Rings night, Star Wars night, the original and not the weak prequels (why does George Lucas attempt to write?), and most recently, at my house, the Harry Potter weekend, where they watched all eight movies, all the extras and made a list of the 100 things the movies got wrong (which they actually read to me very enthusiastically). Which brings me to what started it all….

I came home early after two appointments were cancelled. I slipped out of my heels and was going to my room to undress and shower when I noticed the light of my room was on, and I knew I hadn’t left it on. Cautiously, I peeked around the corner and into my room. On my bed stroking his cock with one of my thigh high stockings was my son. I barely caught the gasp that was about to escape my lips. My son was jerking off on my bed and seemingly reading something on his laptop, as his moans of pleasure increased. I was frozen in shock and my legs felt trapped in cement; I couldn’t take my eyes off my son and his shockingly large cock.

It was only a minute, maybe two, before my son moaned, “Oh yes, Mommy, suck my cock, be a good Mommy slut.”

I couldn’t completely hold in the gasp this time, as I realized he was not only masturbating using my stockings, he was masturbating about me. Luckily, he was clearly in his own fantasy world and did not hear my slight sound.

A couple of minutes later, including my son using my name three more times, he grunted, “I’m coming Mommy, swallow my cum.” Seconds later his sticky white stuff shot out in the air like a rocket.

I quickly retreated back down the stairs, snuck out of my own house and to my car. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen and heard. My son fantasized about me. I was mortified and doubly mortified when I felt an undeniable dampness in my panties.

Why was I wet?

Why was I suddenly so horny?

Did he really call me a Mommy-slut?

I shook the thoughts out of my head and pulled out of my driveway to see if a drive would let me put what I saw in perspective.

An hour later, close to when I was supposed to be home, I walked in the house and called out, just in case, “Michael, I’m home.”

Michael called out from his room, “Hi, Mom.”

I went to his room, the door open, and asked, while he was on his computer, “Want pizza?”

“Sounds great,” he answered, completely unaware of what I knew.

It was hard to believe that what I saw just an hour ago was real. The rest of the evening was normal: supper, watching Jeopardy together and him going to his room and his computer while I watched television, planned showings for tomorrow and relaxed.

At bedtime, I tossed and turned, as the image of my son masturbating, and thinking about me doing it, refused to leave my mind. My vagina was tingling and although I tried to deny the temptation to pleasure myself, I eventually gave in. Closing my eyes, I fantasized, like I always did, of my late husband, the perfect man who left me way too soon. He understood my submissive nature in the bedroom, the polar opposite of my personality in public, where I was in charge and a no-nonsense woman. A feminist in most people’s eyes. I imagined myself on all fours, the way he usually fucked me, so he could fuck whichever hole suited his fancy, as when we were alone and intimate he treated me like the slut I craved to be; yet, in public he was the perfect gentleman and husband, putting up the facade of a vanilla life, which was all anyone would see. This fantasy or reminiscing of the ‘good times’ always got me off quickest and I was close in only a few minutes.

As I got close to climax, my mind played tricks on me and suddenly it was not my husband pounding me from behind, but my son. So close to coming I kept pleasuring myself until the crescendo of pleasure washed through me and I heard my son order, “Come Mommy, come from your son’s big hard cock!”

The orgasm was more intense than most I self-created and I collapsed onto my bed a bundle of sweat. As I recovered from the best orgasm in a long, long time, I gasped at what had turned the tide, so to speak. I couldn’t believe it was my son replacing his father in the dream. I couldn’t believe how hot and bothered it had made me both during the fantasy and what I saw him doing earlier today. After some thought, I realized it was a mixture of exhaustion, loneliness, missing Jake and shocked at seeing my son in such an intimate act. Comfortable with my conclusion, I drifted to sleep and had the best rest I had had in a long, long time.

**********

Next morning, as Michael came down for breakfast, I suddenly realized just how much he looked like Jake. Jake was more built, but he too was rather nerdy in appearance and hid his naughty sexuality quite well. Once my son went to school, curiosity got the better of me. I went to his room and flipped open his laptop. I typed in his password which was as predictable as could be, PrincessLeia, and searched the sites he was on yesterday afternoon. I knew this was wrong, and a major violation of privacy, yet wondering what he was reading or watching while masturbating about me was driving me nuts. His websites yesterday were mostly the usual geek sites, but one wasn’t and there were a few of them, all beginning with erotica incest. I had never heard of the site, but as I looked at the url’s, I gasped. They were all stories about incest, with titles like Making Mommy Mine, What Mom Doesn’t Know Will Fuck Her, Pet Mommy, Riding on Son’s Lap and Mom’s Stocking Stuffer.

I wrote down the titles, not wanting to leave any evidence of my parental violation of privacy and logged out of the Internet. Curious, I searched the word ‘mom’ on his files and noticed a plethora of stories saved. I was shocked at the obvious revelation that my son wanted to have sex with me, or at least it was his biggest fantasy. Yet I could not even begin to fathom how to deal with this knowledge.

I logged out of his computer and realizing the time, headed out for my first showing of the day. Strangely, all day at work I couldn’t shake my new-found knowledge, couldn’t shake how obsessed I had become with the need to learn more.

Once my showing day was done, I headed home, oddly hoping to catch him in the act again, although completely unsure what I would do if I did or for that matter why I was hoping I did. I didn’t want to have sex with my son, did I?

When I got home, he was downstairs gaming with his friend Frederick, the poster boy for geek if there ever was one. I ordered pizza for them and as they gamed, I fired up my laptop, curious to read the stories he had been stroking to yesterday.

As I read story after story, I was shocked at both the content of the stories and what the stories were doing to me. My pussy was on fire and my left hand slowly pleasured myself as I read each incest story. Some of the stories had dominant sons seducing their mothers, while others had powerful daughters dominating their mothers, while others were more intimate in the sexual relationship between son and mother. I had never even remotely considered either of my children in a sexual way, but yesterday’s events, as well as these vivid, hot stories brought the thought that was now crossing my mind. I was close to reaching orgasm while reading a story about a son fucking his mom’s ass when the phone rang. I grabbed the phone, leaving the bubbling just beneath the surface to simmer and then fade away, as I talked to my overbearing mother about many things, including the never ending conversation about finding myself a man. By the time I was off the phone, I was frustrated, like I usually was after a conversation with my mother, and thankfully no longer horny. Looking at the clock and realizing the pizza would be here any minute, I went downstairs to check on the boys who were still, as far as I could tell, playing the same game and in the exact same spots as they were when I left. I got the boys some drinks and couldn’t help but notice my son checking out my legs as I walked away.

As I returned to the kitchen, conflicting emotions swarmed over me. The more I looked at my son, the more I saw his father; the thought that I turned my son on was both flattering and yet wrong…that being the case why was I not mortified by it? Deciding to test if my son was just turned-on by the idea of incest or really obsessed with me, I decided to showcase my assets.

After the pizza arrived, I brought them slices on plates, being sure to bend down enough to give a quick flash of my breasts and, when moving up, showing just a quick flash of my lace stocking tops. Grabbing my own pizza, I sat on a chair to the left of them and, flipping off my four-inch heels and saying dramatically enough to make sure I got their attention, which I was pretty confident I already had anyway, said, “My feet are killing me.”

Reclining my chair and leaning back, my silk stocking-clad feet and legs were on full display for both of the eighteen year old boys. As expected, my joining them caused complete havoc between them, as if these Mensa candidates’ boys brains shut off the minute their erections grew. The thought that I had such power over young boys at my age was also quite a turn-on.

I already knew Frederick had a thing for me as he practically stammered every time he talked to me and could never look me in the eye, his eyes always staring at my chest. But watching my son attempt to take quick glimpses of my legs every few seconds was amusing.

Once I finished eating, I stood up and stretched in front of the two horny eighteen year olds, which allowed for my skirt to ride up more than socially acceptable and allowed my large breasts to be showcased in all their grandeur.

Once I assuredly had their cocks begging for release from their pants, I added to their situation by bending down to grab their empty plates lingering just long enough for each of them to peek down my ample cleavage. I dressed to impress on my job, professional but sexy, and leaving lots to the imagination, and I was still in my business attire that showcased all my assets.

Leaving the boys alone, I stopped where they would think I was gone, but was just in earshot. As expected, Frederick said, “Holy shit, Michael, your Mom is such a MILF.”

“Fuck off,” my son countered, clearly uncomfortable with his friend checking out his mom.

“Seriously,” Frederick continued, “I saw both her stocking tops and her bra.”

“No seriously, don’t talk about my Mom that way,” my son snapped, anger riding in his voice.

Frederick, a lot like Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory, could not read social cues and continued, “Sorry man, but you have to admit you have a hot mom.”

Snapping completely, Michael said, “Yes, I know my Mom is hot, I live with her and see her every day, but I am sick and tired of my friends and all the other losers at school talking about how they want to fuck my mom.”

Finally catching on, Frederick said, “Sorry, Michael, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Suddenly calm, Michael said, dismissing the topic completely, “Forget about it, let’s finish this game.”

I returned to the kitchen, flattered at my son’s adamant defence of me and surprised by the crap he apparently had to deal with because I was his mother. I cleaned up in the kitchen, and dealt with the bills when Frederick left and my son went directly to his room.

I don’t know why I thought this, but the first thought in my head was ‘I wonder if he is going to jerk off’. The second thought surprised me: ‘I wonder if I could see his cock again’. The third thought, which I quickly dismissed, was why I was excited by the thought of seeing his cock again? I was beginning to learn once my pussy began tingling, my moral compass quickly pointed due south. I quietly climbed the stairs and listened at the door, but could hear nothing. It was at this moment, my cunt tingling like it hadn’t in years, that I decided I was going to make my son’s fantasies a reality.

I took a deep breath and opened his door, but was disappointed to see him on his laptop completely dressed, although he did quickly, and guiltily, close his computer. I walked to his bed and sat on the edge beside him, my skirt again riding up just enough to tease, and opened with, “Michael, thank you for standing up for me.”

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused and clearly uncomfortable. I didn’t catch him in the act, but I had obviously caught him in preparation for the act, which the box of Kleenex beside him clearly insinuated.

“I heard what you and Frederick were talking about,” I admitted.

“Oh, God,” he said, his face flushed.

“I am really sorry if my looks have caused you problems with your peers,” I said, my hand seemingly haphazardly going to my son’s leg.

This distracted him greatly as he stammered, “I-I-it’s ok. Better to have a pretty mom than an ugly one.”

“You think I am pretty?” I asked coyly, as if I was shocked by this.

Still flustered, he answered, “Y-y-yes and so does every friend of mine and the majority of guys in my school.”

“Well thank you, Michael. At my age such compliments don’t happen as often as when I was a teenager and in my prime,” I smiled.

“M-m-mom, I-I-I think you are definitely still in your prime,” he complimented me, his face red as a tomato. I could see why he never had a girlfriend, he was nervous as hell just talking to me and I was his mother.

I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, lingering there just a second or two longer than I usually did, and said, “You know just the right words to say, my dear.”

I stood up and said, leaving him with an insinuation he would not yet understand, “Thanks again Michael, you are turning out to be just like your father.”

I left his room and counted to ten before re-entering and seeing him close his laptop second time. “Sorry honey, but could you be a dear and unzip Mommy,” I asked, my voice syrupy sweet, and using the word ‘Mommy’ instead of ‘Mom,’ just a small, but subtle, change in our relationship.

He moved his laptop off his lap, paused for a moment clearly trying to figure out how to hide his obvious erection before he came to me. I turned around and felt his hands shake as he awkwardly unzipped my skirt.

I turned around and kissed him again on the cheek. “Thanks honey.”

He sheepishly replied, “You are welcome, Mom.”

I considered allowing my skirt to accidentally fall to the ground, but I thought that might give him a coronary and left the room. Back in my room, I undressed, and jumped in the shower where my shower head and I had a very intimate moment while I planned the seduction of my son.

**********

One thing about me, is once I decide I want something I do everything in my power to get it. And once I had decided I was going to seduce my son, it was all I thought about…it became an obsession and like most of my relationships with men…a game of sorts…where I controlled everything up to the main event before allowing my submissive side out to play.

After he left for school the next morning, I returned to his laptop and this time checked his favorites. Most were game sites, but there were three erotica incest websites, as well as a pantyhose site. The first erotica incest site was simply the new list of stories updated each day, the second was the top incest stories by score apparently, but the third was the one that gave me lots of information about my son’s kinks. It was a search engine with the following tags: mom, son, submission.

I clicked on the search button and was surprised to see 313 stories with those key words. I read a few, my pussy again on fire and came to realize what he wanted: his mom, in stockings, to be his personal plaything. It should have appalled me, yet instead all I could think about was my long dormant sexual needs being met like they hadn’t since my Jake, Michael’s father, died. I fingered myself to orgasm while fantasizing about my son becoming the dominant lover I had been searching for and craving for so long. After another great orgasm washed through me, I put his computer away after erasing today’s browsing history, and headed out to work.

Staying in my business attire, I made supper and noticed Michael taking glances at my legs all evening. Once the dishes were done, I asked, “Michael, can you do me a big favor?”

“Anything, Mom,” he replied like the sweetheart he was.

“Will you give Mommy a foot massage?” I asked with a warm smile, again using ‘Mommy’ instead of ‘Mom’, which I noticed was the word most used in stories of incest submission.

Michael’s face instantly went red and he stammered, “S-s-sure, Mom.”

I grabbed his hands, entwining them together like a couple would do, and led him to the couch. I gently pushed him to the couch, sat on the other end and flipped my silk stocking-clad legs and feet onto his lap. I could read his nervousness written all over his face as he just froze.

I lifted my left stockinged foot and tapped his nose playfully. “My feet won’t get massaged by themselves, honey.”

His face ruby red, he stuttered yet again, “S-s-sorry Mom.” He nervously grabbed my left foot and began to tenderly massage my foot. In seconds, I felt his member grow underneath my right leg. I couldn’t resist smiling knowing what I was doing to my son.

I opened my legs slightly, not enough to be slutty and let him see my panties, but enough to get a glimpse of my stocking tops. We were silent for a few minutes as I watched him, amused at his concentration, massaging my feet. Finally, I asked, “Could you do my other foot now, sweetheart?”

“Sure, Mom,” he replied, switching feet and not stammering this time, clearly enjoying the task.

I started the conversation. “So do you have a girlfriend yet, Michael?”

Instantly he was sheepish. “No.”

“Why not?” I asked, “You are a great catch.”

“Girls in high school don’t think that,” he sighed, continuing to massage my right stocking-clad foot.

“You are smart, sweet and very handsome,” I complimented, slyly.

“You have to say that, you are my Mom,” he pointed out, not taking my sincere compliment.

“Don’t you do that,” I said, scolding him.

“Do what?” he asked, startled by my sudden change in tone.

“Put yourself down,” I said, moving my foot away and leaning into him for a hug, my hand accidentally landing directly on his stiff cock. My son’s eyes went wide, but I didn’t move my hand as I leaned in and whispered, slightly seductively, “You look just like your father and he was the sexiest man I ever met. You have the same eyes, the same smile and,” I gave a gentle squeeze to his fully erect cock, “apparently you inherited something else from your dad.”

Before he could respond, I kissed him on the lips quickly and stood up. Brushing my skirt back down, I said, “Thanks honey, your hands felt amazing on my aching soles, but now I am going for a shower.” I started to walk away before pausing, turning around and pointing to his crotch, “you probably should look after that. I think it is about to burst.”

My son stared at me in stunned silence as I left him high and hard.

For the second straight day, my shower head and I became very intimate as I continued thinking about the completion of my plan.

**********

The next morning, I was dressed in a black skirt, a white blouse and beige thigh high stockings when Michael joined me for breakfast. We chatted casually about school until I stood up and said, “Dammit, I have a run in my stocking.” I put my leg on the chair right beside my very captivated son, and slid the stocking down my leg. My son’s eyes watched the entire removal. Changing legs, I took off the second stocking complaining, “I don’t have any more in this color, so I guess I’m going shopping before my first showing.” I kissed my son on the forehead and left the stockings on the chair as bait, leaving him alone as I headed out.

I waited five minutes and returned to the house hoping to catch him. As expected, he was pumping away on his big cock, with one of my stockings on his cock. I watched for a minute before walking in from behind and saying, “I forgot my purse, Michael.”

He quickly pulled up his pants and stammered, “Oh my god, Mom, I am so-so-so sorry.”

Hiding the growing desire to grab his cock, I replied, flirtation dripping in every syllable I spoke, “Oh honey, it is ok, masturbating is natural, I assume you did it last night. Actually, truth be told, I did it myself last night…twice.”

“Mom!” he gasped, still frantically fumbling to get his pants on, my stocking still on his cock.

“And feel free to keep my stockings if that is your thing,” I offered with a coy smile.

“Mom!” he repeated, still humiliated to be caught in the act by his mom.

“You have a stocking fetish too?” I asked, with a sexy smile on my face. “You really are just like your father,” I said, grabbing my purse and leaving before he had time to respond.

I drove away, knowing another seed had been planted.

I returned home after lunch, flipped open his computer, went to the erotica incest website and opened the story Making Mommy Mine. I left it on that story and returned to work, leaving giving yet one more tease for my son.

A long day of showings, including two last minute additions, meant I did not get home till after seven. I came in, slipped out of my heels, went upstairs and knocked on Michael’s door.

I heard a very nervous voice say, “Come in.”

I entered and sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed my stocking-clad feet. I wasn’t even lying when I said, “My feet are killing me.”

He was staring at my perfectly manicured feet and red toenails, unable to make eye contact with me.

I asked sweetly, “Michael, could you please massage my feet again, like you did yesterday?”

“S-s-sure, Mom,” he stammered, standing up.

“Come to Mommy,” I beckoned, my finger calling him over and my tone dripping with sultry seduction.

He shyly obeyed.

I moved up on his bed to lie on his pillows and ordered, as I patted the bed, “Come join me on the bed.”

He did, never once making eye contact with me. He sat at the end of his bed and took my right foot in his hands and began massaging me. My legs were parted more than yesterday and if he looked up he would get a very clear look of my black panties…which after only a few seconds he did. He quickly looked away flustered. Over the next couple of minutes, he continued to take quick peeks between my legs as he continued the massage, his face redder than hell itself. I purposely would open and close my legs slightly to distract him. As he switched feet, I asked, “So, how was school today?”

He sighed, “Boring as usual.”

“Any hotties on the horizon?”

“Not even on the radar,” he replied, his confidence still non-existent.

“Why not?” I asked, letting out a soft moan from his massage, adding, “you sure have the magic touch with your hands.”

Surprised by the compliment, he stammered, “R-r-really?”

“Yes really, you have me so relaxed now,” I said, allowing another moan to escape my lips.

Just then my cell phone rang and I cursed to myself. I grabbed it and was asked if I could show a house in twenty minutes. I agreed and sighed, reluctantly getting up and saying, “Did you know that tomorrow is Nude Day?”

“It is?” he asked.

“Yep. I wonder how average people celebrate Nude Day?” I asked, my smile implying something naughty.

“I-um-I don’t know,” he answered, clearly rattled by the odd question.

At the door, I paused and asked, “While I am gone, why don’t you check that erotica incest site and read some of those contest stories and see what regular people do.”

His mouth dropped like it would hit the floor, and I turned and left, a new plan formulating in my mind.

**********

The next day, I scheduled myself off from 3 o’clock on, declining a 4 o’clock showing, determined to finish seducing my son. I got home, showered, dressed in only white thigh highs and an apron to cover my freshly shaved cunt, and started cleaning the house. At 4 o’clock, I put the casserole in the oven and was just making a salad when Michael came home. When he walked in the kitchen, he froze as he stared at me, my voluptuous breasts barely concealed by the apron. I asked, “Did you know what today is?”

He paused, trying to comprehend the strange sight of his mother almost naked. “Um….”

I explained, “It is Nude Day.”

“There is a Nude Day?” he asked, still processing.

“Yes there is silly,” I flirted, before adding, “Michael, you are eighteen and old enough to celebrate Nude Day with your Mother. So all clothing is forbidden.”

Silence lingered for a while until he stammered, “M-m-mom, this is weird.”

I pouted, drawing him in, “Don’t you want to celebrate Nude Day with me? Or is your Mother to old?”

He stammered, “N-n-no home that is not it. It is just strange.”

“Is it?” I shrugged. “I find it very liberating. It has been years since I went without panties.” I quickly lifted the apron to give him a quick flash of my pussy.

“B-b-but you are my M-m-mom,” he said, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening, his bulging pants already revealing the impact my body had on him.

“And you are my son. I have seen you naked many times, baby,” I rationalized, before adding in my Motherly do-as-you-are-told tone, “Now get undressed, Michael.”

“But you are wearing nylons,” he pointed out.

“I did that for you.” I smiled, walking over to him and kissing his cheek. “Like your father, you clearly have a thing for stockings.”

I pulled his shirt over his head and offered, “Unless you want me to completely follow the rules and take the thigh highs off.”

“N-n-no, k-k-keep them on,” he stammered, shivering at my touch.

“Your wish is my command,” I teased, unbuckling his pants, hinting at my submissive nature. He seemed to be holding his breath, so I reminded him, “Breathe, baby, breathe,” as I allowed his pants to fall to the floor. His big hard cock was not completely held in by his very unflattering tighty-whities. “We have definitely got to get you some new underwear.”

He nodded, unable to speak a word.

“Oh my, Michael, is that because of me?” I asked, my hand going to his cock.

“Oh God,” he moaned and went even stiffer the instant my hand brushed his cock.

As I pulled down his underwear, his beautiful cock flopped into the open, giving me the eight inch salute. It took every ounce of my will power to not devour his cock then and there, but I wanted to make him wait a bit longer.

I stood up and went back to finish cutting the salad veggies. Michael hadn’t moved an inch since I undressed him so I asked, “Can you pour us some wine?”

“Wine?” he asked.

“Today is a special day, Michael, you can have some wine,” I smiled, my tone implying I was soon going to create his very own erotica incest story.

He did as instructed, while I finished the salad and pulled the casserole out of the oven. I noticed Michael taking quick glimpses at me every time he could, desperately trying not to be obvious, when he was actually being the exact opposite. I suggested, “Michael, take a seat as Mommy gets your dinner ready.”

He sat down and I brought him his plate. I went back and grabbed mine, and after putting my plate on the table, I took off the last piece of fabric that was hiding my breasts and just trimmed pussy. As expected, Michael stared, his mouth open, literally watering. I sat down and began eating and created conversation as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“So Michael, anything exciting happen at school today?”

Trying to act nonchalant himself, he responded, “Aced my Calculus test.”

“Excellent,” I smiled. “You are such a good student and such a perfect child.”

“Oh Mom,” he said embarrassed, the crimson hue rising to his cheeks.

“Seriously, half the teenagers today are drinking, doing drugs, failing school and having sex, but you are a good boy, aren’t you?” I asked, my tone demure.

“Yes, because I am a loser,” he pointed out, not insulting himself, but just stating the social hierarchy of high school.

“Well, Bill Gates was a loser too, based on your theory,” I pointed out, before adding, “most of the so called cool kids in high school end up peaking in high school and doing nothing with their lives.”

“You were cool,” my son pointed out.

“I’m not now?” I pouted, luring him in.

“Y-y-you are still,” he stammered, desperate to rectify any implied insult, “I-I-I just meant, you are successful even though you were cool in high school.”

“Aaaah thanks, sexy,” I replied warmly, as he blushed at being called sexy, “but I am still successful partly because of my looks and not because of academic prowess like you will be.”

“I hope you are right,” he said, letting out a soft sigh that implied he wasn’t convinced I was right.

“Plus,” I added, the seduction moving forward at full throttle, “once the girls see your fucking cock you will have to beat them off with a stick.”

“Mom!” Michael replied shocked.

Continuing my sexual flattery, I added, “You heard the saying it isn’t the size that counts.”

“Yeah,” he answered, confused by my intent.

“That is bullshit and said by nice girls to keep up the egos of insecure guys with small peckers,” I announced.

“Jesus Christ, Mom,” he said, clearly bewildered by the conversation.

“Trust me,” I continued, “I have had a wide variety of cocks, but your Dad’s was the biggest and the best and your cock is bigger than his.”

“I can’t believe you are talking about my penis,” he said.

“It’s a cock, son. A big, and I am guessing, still really hard cock.” I smiled, standing up. “Stiff,” I continued moving closer, “cock,” I finished, reaching him.

He stared at me speechless. Standing above him, in a position of authority, I changed the subject and started asking a few rhetorical questions.

“So you like erotic sex stories, don’t you my son?”

He attempted to speak, but I interrupted his stammer, placing my finger to his lips, my big tits just inches above him, my slightly wet pussy directly in front of him.

“And you particularly like erotic stories about sons and mommies, don’t you son?”

My hand reached down and wrapped gently around his, as expected, erect ready to burst cock.

“And you seem to have a rather major fascination with stockings too, don’t you?” I stood back up, reluctantly letting go off his cock and placing my right foot on his leg, which also gave him a very clear, close-up-and-personal, look at his Mommy’s cunt. “Do you like my thigh highs, Michael?”

So stunned, he couldn’t even complete the sentence as the sexual attack on his senses overwhelmed him. “I-I-um-I-I-well-I….”

I grabbed his hand and put it on my leg. “Go ahead, son, feel Mommy’s stockings.”

He obeyed, obsessed, like a kitten with a string, by the silky feeling.

I moaned, “Mmmmm, Michael, your hand feels so nice on Mommy’s legs.”

A moment later, I put my foot back down and jumped up onto the kitchen table. He looked at me and watched as both my stocking-clad feet, reached his stiff missile. ‘Stand by, Houston,’ I thought, ‘we have liftoff.’ He shook at my touch and I, without a word, began to give him a foot job. My legs bent as they were, my trimmed pussy was staring my stunned son in the face, a gaping invitation if there ever was one.

As I slowly moved my stockinged feet up and down on my son’s cock, he closed his eyes and apparently let his long held fantasy come true. In less than a minute, he moaned and warned, “Mom, I am going to come.”

I purred, like the predator I was, “Come for Mommy, baby, come all over Mommy’s stockinged feet. I wore them just for you, baby…everything tonight is just for you.”

Simultaneously as I finished speaking, his white goo shot up in the air and most of it landed on my stockings, the rest on the kitchen table and floor. I continued the slow foot masturbation of my son until the last speck of cum was released.

I asked, my voice still syrupy sweet, “Did you like that, baby?”

Michael finally opened his eyes and looked into mine. “T-t-that was amazing, Mom.”

“It’s Mommy, Michael, isn’t that what you want? A full-service Mommy?” I asked, lifting my foot to my mouth and retrieving my son’s cum from my foot.

My son’s mouth was again wide open in shock, as he watched the obscene act.

“Fuck, you taste delicious,” I smiled, switching feet and retrieving more of his cum, before eventually saying, “Actually, I would love to get from directly from the source.”

I fell to my knees as my son watched me take his cock in my mouth.

“Oh God,” he let out the instant my warm mouth swallowed completely his still erect cock. It had been a long time since I had a teenager, since being a teenager myself, and was grateful for their quick recovery time.

I bobbed slowly up and down on his cock for a couple of minutes before taking his cock out of my mouth and saying, “Oh, I missed some.” Continuing to set up the opportunity for him to take control, I leaned to the ground and licked his cum off the floor.

My son, finally catching on it seemed, said, with a confidence I had never heard from him, except for the time I watched him jerk off about me, “Mom, you missed some on the kitchen table.”

A smile crossed my lips at the shift in him as I sat back up, still on my knees and looked at the table. Seeing some white goo, I asked, “Does Michael want Mommy to clean up his cum?”

“Yes,” he replied, although not with the aggressiveness I had hoped.

I looked at him and said, my hand back on his stiff missile, “Mommy needs directions. Please tell Mommy what you want. She promises to obey every command like a good Mommy, a very obedient Mommy, a pet Mommy like in those stories.”

He looked into my eyes, something he had avoided most of the evening, and said, “Clean up my cum, Mommy.”

I instantly obeyed, using only my tongue at first to retrieve his white seed. I finished my sucking it up with my lips before turning back to him and asking, my voice as submissive as humanly possible, “Mmmmmmm, did I do good?”

A smile crossed his face for the first time as he finally realized the complete implications of what had just occurred and what I was literally offering him. He asked, slightly hesitant, wanting a final declaration before proceeding (he always was a linear boy) “You really want to be my Mommy-slut?”

I looked up from my submissive position and answered, “I want to be whatever you want me to be.”

“Really?” he asked, still trying to accept his good fortune.

“Give me a command,” I suggested.

He paused as if he was just given three wishes from a genie and really had to think about what he wanted. “Masturbate,” he ordered, with a vague resemblance of confidence.

Without hesitation, still on my knees, I moved my left hand to my eager pussy and fulfilled his command.

He watched from his position of new-found power his mind clearly moving a mile a minute at the possibilities. I let out a moan, the sensation of obedience bringing enhanced pleasure and asked, “Can Mommy come, son or does my big boy have other plans for his Mommy?”

He was still clearly coming to terms with the amazing reality that this wasn’t a wet dream or some computer-driven fantasy. I looked up at him like a lost puppy looking for directions, desperately attempting to guide him in what we both needed: me a dominant man, and him a woman to learn from. My moans increased and I warned, “Son, Mommy’s cunt is getting really wet, I can’t hold back much longer.”

The last brick in the wall of resistance shattered, I watched as my son stood up, pulled me up and onto the table and, without a word, took was now rightfully his as he buried his face in my hot lava box. Instantly, I moaned, as my inexperienced son licked my already sticky wet pussy lips. Obviously being his first time, he was a bit rough and all over the place. I moaned, “That feels good baby. Part Mommy’s lips with your tongue, baby.”

He obeyed the instructions and on his own accord slowed down. For the next couple of minutes he continued to lick my pussy lips bringing a constant teasing sensation to me. I moaned, “Is this your first time eating pussy, baby?”

He nodded, but didn’t quit what he was doing, clearly enthralled by the taste of my cunt. Every man I had ever been with and the two girls in college had always commented on my unique, sweet tasting pussy, although he would have nothing currently to compare it to.

“Well, you are a natural, baby,” I purred, adding, “do you want to help Mommy come?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, his tongue refusing to leave my snatch.

“Take my clit into your mouth, baby,” I requested, “swallow it whole.” Again he obeyed, and the minute my swollen needy clit was in his mouth I screamed, “Oh God fuck, son, now lick Mommy’s clit, suck it hard, make Mommy come.” He increased the pressure and my moans became louder as my inevitable orgasm began to rise. “Oh God, son. Make Mommy your slut, make me come and I am yours unconditionally, baby. Is that what you want, son? Your very own Mommy-sluuuuuuut,” I screamed, as he surprised me by sliding two fingers without warning deep inside me. Like a veteran pussy pleaser, he hooked his fingers inside me and found my g-spot in seconds. On contact, I wailed and my legs stiffened.

The mixture of the pleasure of having my g-spot tapped like a drum, mixed with the long ignored desire of submission, twisted with the reality of the taboo incestuous act I was willingly committing and I was a bundle of goo in seconds and babbling like a teenage slut. “Oh God Michael, you got Mommy, you got Mommy, oh fuck, oh fuck, yes Michael, uh, ah, uuuuuuuuuh, fuuuuuuck, Mommy’s coming baaaaaaby, don’t stoooooop,” I screamed, grabbing my son’s head to add even more pleasure on my exploding cunt. It was easily the best, most intense, toe tingling, leg stiffing, cunt dripping, mind numbing orgasm I had ever experienced. Pleasure pulsed through my very being and I knew in this brief moment of euphoria, what Heaven feels like: a brief moment of acceptance of what I had just done and what I knew I would be doing over and over.

My orgasm finally done, no nook or cranny untouched by his assault, I begged my son, with his fingers still in me and his mouth still devouring my clit, “Please stop baby, I have to pee so badly.”

As his fingers left my cunt, I suddenly felt empty. As I pushed myself off the kitchen table, which I would never, ever be able to look at again and not remember the moment my life officially drastically changed, I stumbled, my orgasm apparently doing a number on my now jell-o like legs. I literally fell on my son’s lap face first, his cock almost poking me in the eye. I promised, grabbing his very ready for action cock, “I will be right back to take care of that for you, son.”

One firm squeeze and I left.

I returned a few minutes later, his cock just as hard and ready for action as when I left. I smiled, acting demure and sweet, “Did you miss me?”

My son took control like I hoped he would ordered, “Let’s go to your room.”

Acting coy, I asked, “And what do you want to do there?”

His words sparked the fire that had never completely flamed out after my orgasm. No smile crossed his face as he said, “I’m going to fuck you Mom.”

“Oh my,” I exclaimed, feigning shock at his words.

Attempting to be dominant, a skill he would need to work on as it sounded more like a request than an order, “Get your ass to the room, Mommy.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered, walking in front of him, my ass swaying back and forth, the perpetual tease continuing.

Once in my room, I sauntered to my bed and asked, “Is this where you want me, son?”

His confidence seemingly increasing, he surprised me as he demanded, his tone hinting at annoyance, using my full name like I had always done to imply he was in trouble when he was younger, “Betty Cheryl Lodge, get your ass over here now.”

Startled, and impressed, I scurried to him.

His hands on my shoulders, he gently, but firmly guided me to my stocking-covered knees. His smile smug, one I had never seen cross his face before, he said, finally using the words he used while fantasizing about me, “I assume a dirty Mommy-slut like you Betty, knows exactly what to do with this.”

Reaching for his delicious cock, I shifted into my sultry seductress MILF mode and smiled, “Actually, I can think of quite a few things I would like to do with this.”

“Like what?” he asked, I think attempting to see all his options and just how far I was willing to go.

My eyes never leaving his from my subservient position I laid my cards all on the table, offering him four of kind. “I could give you another stocking-clad foot massage until your huge dick shoots your load all over Mommy’s stockinged feet, or I could suck your delicious cock in Mommy’s mouth until you coat my throat with your yummy cum, or you could slip that big fucking pecker of yours in my fiery volcano until you erupt inside me or you can get me on all fours like a pet, a pet Mommy, and do me doggy-style as your raging rod pierces my back door.”

His eyes were big and wide as my shocking options were given. He finally spoke, although it was more of a whimper, “Oh God, Mom.”

His cock begging for attention, I asked, my eyes hungry with lust, “What do you want Mommy to do for you, baby?”

His hands grabbed my head and guided me to his cock. I opened my mouth and took my son’s raging hard-on between my lips. I slowly bobbed back and forth all the while creating a whirlwind of pleasure with my tongue and saliva. Although Jake loved fucking me, he said there was nothing he loved more than a slow burning blow job from his slut wife. I took pride in giving amazing, earth shattering blowjobs and I did the same with my son. I took my time making love to my son’s cock with my mouth. Reading the warning signs of an orgasm on the build: the moaning, the leg shift and the subtle pulses in mouth, I went in for the kill as I shifted from a constant slow swirl to bobbing back and forth like some porn star cocksucking slut. As expected, the sounds out of my son’s mouth got louder and he warned, “I’m going to come.”

I instantly stopped and took his cock out of my mouth, again attempting to lead him into his role as dominant on our ever-changing relationship. I asked, “Do you want Mommy to swallow your cum, son?”

“Badly,” he moaned, frustrated by me stopping.

“Just tell me what to do Michael. I am yours to use as you please,” I smiled.

Michael surprising me, and apparently not a man of many words, he grabbed my head and shoved his cock back in my mouth, but instead of me bobbing on his cock, he began pumping his cock in between my lips, literally fucking my mouth. He grunted, as his orgasm rebuilt the steam I had slowed down moments ago, “Swallow my cum, Mommy-slut, swallow it all.”

Seconds later I was rewarded with a warm load of my son’s cum as it sprayed the back of my throat. He kept pumping in and out of my mouth, albeit slower, until I had savored every last speck of his addictive seed. Pulling out of my mouth, he apologized, “Sorry, Mom, I-I-I got carried away.”

Still on my knees, I quickly responded sincerely, “Michael, you don’t ever have to apologize to me, baby. When your Father was alive he was in charge in the bedroom and I was the obedient wife. Until I learned of your fantasy to fuck me, my submissive side had lain dormant, but when I saw you on my bed masturbating with my stockings and moaning my name as you came it all came flooding back.”

“You saw me?” he asked, clearly surprised by this new tidbit of information.

I stood up, my knees sore, and continued, impressed his cock was still stiff, “I did and every moment since I haven’t been able to stop thinking of your big cock.” I again grabbed his swollen member and added, “This delicious fucking cock.”

“Oh God, Mom,” was all this academic genius could come up with, my sexual power to overwhelm still prominent.

“Do you want to fuck Mommy, son?” I asked, my hand gently stroking his cock.

“Yes,” he moaned.

“Tell me,” I said, explaining, “Michael, I am submissive like all those stories you have read. I am yours to use as you please.” I leaned in and took his nipple in his mouth before adding, “When you please.” I moved to his other nipple before adding, “How you please.” Moving in to kiss him not as mother and son, but two lovers, my lips just inches from his, I finished with, “I love you Michael. I love you as a son and now I also love you as a Master. Let Mommy take your virginity.” Our lips touched and our tongues began to explore each other’s mouths. A couple of minutes later, tangled in a sweaty embrace as our hands explored each other as well, my son lifted me up and took me to the bed…like a husband would do on her wedding night.

Reaching my bed, he tossed me on the bed and roughly pulled my legs apart. A determination seemed to control his movements as he tried to become what I desperately needed. He asked, “Does Mommy want her son’s cock?”

His cock rubbed up and down my glistening pussy lips and I moaned, “Oh God yes, please fuck Mommy.”

He smiled slightly, tapping his cock head on my clit, “A good Mommy-slut can do better than that.”

My stocking-clad legs wrapping around him and pulling him in, I begged, “Fuck your slut Mommy, son. Shove that huge fuck stick in Mommy’s wet cunt. Pound Mommy hard.”

His cock easily slid inside my inferno and I moaned loudly the instant he penetrated me, “Oh yes, son, thank you baby. Now fill Mommy’s cunt with your cock.”

Slowly all eight inches filled me and I watched as his facial expressions gave away how in awe he was that he was not only losing his virginity, but he was losing it to his mother. He paused, enjoying the feeling of my cunt wrapped around his cock. Slowly, he began to make love to me. It was slow and tender and he leaned forward and kissed me. The odd mix of dominance and romance was strange yet erotic and it only seemed to enhance the intimacy of the moment. His hands cupped my breasts as he began to slowly fuck me faster. He broke the kiss and began to smother my tits with kisses. He explored every crevice of my breasts with his lips, tongue and teeth all the while keeping a steady pace. Time stood still as I took my son’s cherry and allowed him to explore his Mother’s in ways society would detest.

It was over fifteen minutes before he suddenly pulled out and flipped me onto my side. As he repositioned himself, I teased, “Are you going to try the other hole now, baby?”

“Shhhh,” he ordered, as his cock slipped back into my cunt. “I am not done with this one yet.”

“They’re all yours, baby,” I moaned. Unlike when we were in the missionary position, this time he fucked me. He wrapped his arm around me, cupped my left breast for leverage and began thrusting in and out of me. His body slamming into my ass with each hard thrust into me had me hot in seconds and my nasty mouth returned. “Harder, baby, fuck Mommy harder.”

He obliged, his cock somehow going deeper with each push. “You like that, Mommy?” he asked.

“Oh yes, baby, I fucking love it. Promise me you will fuck me again and again,” I moaned.

His confidence clearly building, “Don’t worry slut, I have definite plans for you.”

“You doooooooo?” I moaned in surprise, the thought making me even hotter.

He fucked me harder, he fucked me faster and I felt his legs stiffen and knew I was soon going to get my second hole filled by his cum. Unlike the previous two courtesy warnings he gave before he came on my feet and in my mouth, this time he announced, “I’m going to come in you Mommy, I’m going to come in my slut.”

His confidence a turn on, my orgasm was close to and I moaned, “Oh yes, baby, fill Mommy with your cum. Fill me with your seed. Make Mommy your cum deposit.”

“Aaaaaaaaaah, fuuuuuuck,” he grunted and I felt my pussy walls being sprayed which triggered my own orgasm.

“Fuuuuck, Mommy’s coming too, baby.” He kept pistoning in and out of me as we both quaked with pleasure

Suddenly, he pulled out, pushed me onto my back and shoved his cock shiny with my juices in my mouth. Although the position was awkward, I bobbed back and forth as best I could, desperate to prove my utter obedience to my son, my new Master.

He finally pulled out and collapsed beside me, sweat dripping down his forehead. Silence lingered for a long time as we both just allowed the afterglow of what we’ve done these past two hours to linger.

Finally, I rolled onto my side and said, “Michael, that was amazing.”

Michael turned to face me too. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” I smiled, “That you just fucked your Mom?”

“All of it; that you saw me masturbating; that you are submissive; everything we just did,” he responded, clearly overwhelmed by it all.

I asked, “You don’t regret it, do you?”

“God no,” he replied, “I just can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“I am the lucky one,” I said, my hand slowly caressing his chest.

“Oh Mom, I have fantasized about you all my life. But it never occurred to me that it was ever anything more than a fantasy,” he admitted, his facial expression one of utter delirium.

“Was it as good as you fantasized?” I asked.

“God yes,” he answered.

“Better than the stories?” I asked, my hand ever so slowly moving lower, to his now only semi-erect cock. Taking a quick glimpse at his cock, I wondered if it was on its way to slumber or was it again on the rise.

“I don’t need the stories anymore, Mom, we just made our own,” he pointed out.

I chuckled, “I guess we did.” I looked at his cock, which was indeed growing again. “You are insatiable,” I purred.

He shrugged, “My record is nine.”

“Nine what?” I asked, unclear what he was talking about.

“I have came nine times in one day,” he revealed.

My hand reaching for his almost fully erect cock, I teased, “Well, I am not sure I can do nine, baby, but I can definitely do one more and I do have one last hole for you to fill.”

“You sure Mom?” he asked.

“I have never been sure about anything more in my life, Master,” I replied, again stressing my utter submission to him.

As he sat up, I said, “The lube is in the drawer of the nightstand.”

He reached for the nightstand and found my small collection of toys, which included a couple of vibrators and a butt plug. He paused and looked at me.

I shrugged, “It is lonely being a single Mother.”

“Not anymore,” he promised, returning with the lube.

I coated his cock generously, not having had a real cock in my ass in a couple of years after I briefly dated a co-worker. I got on all fours and presented my still very fine ass to him. “What do you think of my ass, baby?”

“Fucking awesome,” he replied, as he moved behind me.

“Now go slow at first baby,” I said, “your cock is pretty big for any girl’s backdoor.”

He slapped my ass playfully and said, “I thought I was in charge here.”

I instantly played along. “Sorry, Master, do with your slut as you please.”

“Good girl,” he purred, which sent a chill down my spine, that being his father’s trademark saying to me.

“Fuck Mommy’s ass, baby,” I moaned, as the tip of his cock pushed past my tight puckered entrance.

As he slowly went deeper, he moaned, “Holy shit, it is so hot and tight.”

“All for you, baby,” I moaned, as his cock slowly filled me.

“So fucking tight,” he grunted, as the last couple of inches filled my ass.

His cock feeling so perfect in my ass, I finally allowed my mind to let go and be controlled like I used to all those years ago. “Fuck your cock feels so perfect in my ass, Master.”

“Master,” he repeated, “I am really beginning to like being called that.”

As his cock began sliding in and out of my ass, I declared again, “Yes Master. In this house you are in charge and I am yours unconditionally.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, “you are so hot Mom.”

“You are too, baby. You are a hot fucking stud, just like your Dad was,” I moaned, beginning to buck back on his cock, wanting him deeper inside me.

“Bounce that ass on my cock, Mommy,” he instructed. I obeyed, attempting to get in a constant rhythm.

“Good girl,” he repeated the magic words, his hands slowly roaming over my back and ass.

“Oh yes, son, your cock was made to fill me,” I moaned. I bounced back on his cock for an eternity, Michael having already came three times tonight. My knees ached, but I was determined to feel his cum coat my ass so I tried to go for the kill verbally. “Oh God, baby. I need your cum in my ass. I will do anything for it baby.”

“What about Crystal, Mommy?” he said, surprising me.

“What?” I gasped.

“I want to see you seduce her so I can fuck her too,” he announced, adding “I have always hated her condescending treatment of me.”

“Oh God,” I moaned, the sudden thought of my daughter and I in the throes of lesbian lust suddenly bringing me to a boil again.

“Oh God, what?” he asked, beginning to fuck my ass harder.

“Oh God, yes, Master, I will help make her your submissive sister slut,” I promised, as my hand went to my clit.

“Dyking out with your daughter is turning you on, Mommy?” he asked, now pounding my ass so hard each thrust forward had me falling forward.

“Yes, baby, obeying your every command gets me off,” I admitted, rubbing my clit furiously, even as my mind played the seemingly preposterous notion of seducing my very strong-willed daughter.

As his cock tore apart my ass I desperately tried to push him over the limit. “Fuck, baby, do you want to see me eat your sister’s cunt?”

“Fuuuck, yes,” he grunted, clearly close.

Pushing him over the edge, I asked, “How about if I fucked your sister’s tight ass with the strap-on I have from when I used to get fucked in college?”

That was the final straw as he grunted and I felt his cum filling my ass and fulfilling the tri-fecta of coming in all three of my pleasure holes in one night. As his cum coated my rectum, another orgasm washed through me as the idea of seducing my daughter bounced in my head, a ridiculous fantasy already becoming an obsession.

“I’m coming too, baby,” I screamed, “Don’t stop pounding Mommy’s ass.”

He kept the full frontal assault, until my orgasm finished pulsing through me and I collapsed out of utter exhaustion onto the bed.

I could feel my son’s cum slowly leaking out my ass as my son joined me on the bed. Looking into each other’s eyes, I smiled and said, “I love you, Michael.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

After a brief pause, I smiled, “So your sister, hey?”

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MILF Mom catches nerdy son masturbating and becomes obsessed, 7.5 out of 10 based on 55 ratings