My mum was pretty much a slapper always going off with men. Let’s just say she was obsessed with cock it was embarrassing. My mum was getting more sex than me and she is in her 40s and yes I was jealous. Until lockdown came, the dreaded covid.
It had been weeks locked up within the same four walls, one night I sat on the couch in just my grey jogging bottoms and black tank top watching shitty woke Netflix. Then my mum came in the room with a glass of wine in a very short and very low cut pink nightie. I never really looked at my mum in any other way than just a mum, but my hormones were feeling it as I watch her sit as her tits bounced.
My eyes snagged on them, then slid away fast, like I’d been caught doing something wrong. But she didn’t even seem to notice. She just slumped onto the other end of the couch, letting out a long sigh that seemed to carry all the boredom of lockdown with it. The pink nightie was barely there, clinging to her curves and showing off way more leg than I was used to seeing.
Her breasts, usually hidden away under baggy t-shirts or jumpers, were right there, pressing against the thin fabric. They looked… soft. And big. Not saggy like you sometimes think older women’s tits are, but full, heavy, and round. My mouth went a bit dry. My dick started to get hard in my jogging bottoms and she actually saw me adjusting, well, myself and staring at her tits.
“Haha oh honey. This lockdown is driving me mad,” she grumbled, taking a long swig of her wine. “Are you watching that rubbish again, Andy?”
I swallowed hard, trying not to stare at the way her nipple was now just barely visible through the pink fabric—not that I was looking. Not really.
“Yeah, me too,” I muttered, shifting again. My cock was practically aching now, trapped against the fabric of my joggers. My face felt like a furnace, and I prayed she wouldn’t notice.
She hummed, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip. Her lips left a faint red mark on the rim. “You know what’s the worst part?” she said, her voice softer now, more thoughtful.
I didn’t answer. I was too busy trying to keep my pulse steady.
“No fucking,” she finally said, blunt as hell. Then she spoke again, “Fuck so sorry, I am drunk ignore your stupid old mother.”
I took a deep breath staring at her tits, shit I don’t think she is wearing a bra, “Your not old mum. You… you look great.”
She stopped swirling her wine, her eyes opening wider. A slow smile spread across her lips, a little wobbly with the alcohol. “Oh, really now, Andy? That’s sweet of you to say.” She chuckled, a soft, husky sound that prickled my skin. “You usually just grunt at me.”
Her smile deepened. She took a tiny sip of wine, her eyes never leaving mine. “Well, thank you, sweetie. Maybe I should dress like this more often if it gets you to talk to me.”
My heart hammered. I tried to discretely adjust myself again, pulling the tank top lower over my lap, but it was a useless effort. The tent in my joggers was undeniable.
“It just… came out,” I mumbled, feeling like an idiot. I focused intently on the shitty green wall in the Netflix show.
Fuck it. I could play this off. I could try get into her knickers, fuck what am I thinking. It is my mum, but I am so horny not had pussy in a while.
“You want another glass?” I asked, nodding at her nearly empty wine. My voice cracked a little, but I cleared my throat, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
She let out another sigh, tilting her head toward me. “Oh, go on then. Might as well. Wait are you trying to get me drunk.” She held out the glass, her fingers brushing mine as I took it. The touch sent a stupid jolt through me.
“Nah,” I lied, standing up too fast. The tent in my joggers was painfully obvious now, but she didn’t glance down. Just kept watching me with those lazy, wine-glazed eyes.
I grabbed the wine bottle from the kitchen, my hands shaky. Fuck, what am I doing? The thought twisted in my head, but my dick didn’t care. It just throbbed harder, desperate, stupid.
I poured her glass way too full, sloshing a little onto the counter. Smooth.
When I walked back in, she was sprawled deeper into the couch, one leg bent, the other stretched out. The nightie had ridden up her thigh—way up—and she didn’t even bother adjusting it.
“Hope you’re not planning on running a marathon in those,” she teased, nodding at my tented joggers as I handed her the glass.
My face burned. Shit, she noticed.
“Just comfortable,” I muttered, sitting back down—farther away this time. Not that it helped. The air between us felt thick, sticky.
She took a long sip, licking the wine off her top lip. “Mmm. Lockdown’s turning us all into lazy slobs, huh?”
I grunted, eyes darting to the deep v of her nightie. No bra. Definitely no bra. The fabric clung to her nipples, and when she shifted, they stiffened even more under the thin pink material.
Fuck.
She let out another sigh, rolling her shoulders. “Christ, I need something to take the edge off.”
You and me both.
I swallowed. “Yeah… you, uh, want another drink?”
She smirked, swirling the wine lazily. “Trying to get me pissed, Danny?”
Danny. She never called me that. My stomach flipped. “Nah. Just… being nice.”
She hummed, unconvinced, then leaned forward—way forward—to set her glass on the coffee table. The neckline gaped, and for a second, I caught a flash of pale, heavy tit, the curve of her nipple.
Fuck. Fuck.
I yanked my eyes away, but she’d already caught me.
Her lips twitched. “See something you like?”
My throat went dry. “Mum…”
“I’m joking, relax.” She laughed, flopping back. But her cheeks were pinker now, her breathing just a little quicker.
Silence stretched, thick and loaded. The TV droned on—some woke bullshit about feelings or whatever—but I couldn’t focus.
Then she stretched, arching her back, making her tits push against the fabric. “God, I’m bored.”
I adjusted my joggers again, heart hammering. “Yeah. Me too.”
She turned her head, looking at me—really looking at me—and something in her eyes changed. Less drunk, more… curious.
Slowly, she wet her lips. “You ever think about… breaking the rules?”
I froze.
Is she?
My pulse roared in my ears I put my hand on her thigh just under the hem of her nightie. “What kind of rules?”
She held my gaze, just for a second too long. Then she smirked, reaching for her glass again. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
She didn’t move my hand. She just held the wine glass suspended in front of her face, her eyes wide, staring at me over the rim.
“Andy, look, I’m tipsy. I say stupid things,” she mumbled, her voice losing its husky confidence and sounding suddenly small.
I didn’t pull my hand back. The warmth radiating off her thigh was amazing, sinking right through my skin. I could feel the silkiness of her skin just under the ridiculously short hem of that nightie. It was so soft.
“Mum, look,” I said, keeping my voice low. “It’s fine. We’re both just wired up. It’s been weeks.”
She took a huge sip of the wine, watching me intensely over the rim of the glass. Her eyes were wide, definitely still tipsy, but calculating, too.
I felt a stupid rush of courage. I let my thumb slide up an inch, brushing the very edge of where the nightie covered her.
She didn’t flinch, but her breathing hitched—just a quick, almost silent gasp. Her chest, heavy and round, pressed harder against the thin pink fabric. I could practically see the curve of her left breast straining, the nipple dark and demanding underneath.
“Andy, stop,” she mumbled, but her voice held zero conviction. It sounded more like a suggestion than a command.
“Why?” I asked, leaning slightly closer. The gap between us was closing fast.
“Because,” she whispered, setting the wine glass too quickly on the coffee table. It made a clatter, and now her hands were free. Free and resting on her own lap, bunched up like she didn’t know what to do with them.
I removed my hand from her thigh, but only to place it on the cushion right behind her back. I leaned in even more, invading her space completely. The smell of her perfume, wine, and something else—something hot and intimate—hit me.
“Because what?” I challenged, my throat thick. My cock was an absolute rock, pressing painfully against the seam of my joggers. I knew she had to see the outline clearly now.
She swallowed hard, her eyes glued to mine. “Because you’re my son, Danny.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, my gaze dropping instantly to her cleavage. It was impossible not to. Her tits were right there, practically spilling out. The skin in the deep valley was pale and smooth. “But we’re the only people in this house. And you said you miss… well, you know.”
I lifted my hand from behind her and let my fingers drag lightly across her collar bone, just above the curve of her left breast.
She shivered violently this time. A genuine, full-body shake. Her mouth parted slightly, and she let out a shaky breath.
“I was drunk, Andy,” she repeated, but she wasn’t pulling away. She was leaning slightly into my touch.
“Are you still drunk?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I could feel the heat pulsing off her skin, and I could swear I smelled the faint coppery scent of arousal beneath the perfume. “Don’t be mad… but I could give you a good hard pounding on this couch. No one as to know. My dick is hard as fuck Mum.”
Her eyes widened at my blunt words, a mix of shock and something else—something darker and more primal—flashing across her face. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Danny…” she finally breathed, her voice trembling. “We can’t… I’m your mother.”
But even as she said it, she made no move to push me away. If anything, she leaned in closer, her breath hitching as my fingers trailed lower, brushing the swell of her breast.
“I know,” I murmured, my own voice hoarse with desire. “But no one has to know. It’ll be our secret.” My hand slid fully onto her breast then, cupping its heavy weight through the thin fabric of her nightie. She gasped softly, her nipple pebbling instantly against my palm.
“Danny,” she whimpered again, but there was no real protest in it. I wanted to get her tits out and suck them so badly. So I did.
I slowly pulled down the straps of her nightie, revealing more and more of her soft, pale skin. Her breasts spilled out, heavy and perfect. I took one in my hand, marvelling at its weight and warmth. Her nipple was hard, begging for my mouth. My hand going up her nightie to her knickers. “Want me to stop, Mum.”
“No,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.”Don’t stop.”
Her hips lifted slightly as my hand slipped beneath the waistband of her knickers. I felt the soft curls of her pubic hair, then the slick heat of her folds. She was wet, soaking wet. “Fuck, Mum,” I groaned, sliding a finger along her slit. “You’re soaked. One minute, I need to get my cock out.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this. My heart’s pounding so hard it feels like it’s gonna bust out of my chest. My mum—my own bloody mum—is right here, half-naked on the couch, and I’ve got my hand down her knickers. She’s soaking wet, and the heat of her is driving me mental. I need to get my cock out before I lose it completely.
I pulled my hand back from her knickers for just a second, my fingers slick with her juices, and yanked down my jogging bottoms with my other hand. My cock sprang free, hard as a bloody rock, throbbing in the cool air of the living room. It’s thick, veins bulging, the tip already glistening with pre-cum from how turned on I am. I gave it a quick stroke, just to ease the ache, while my eyes stayed locked on her.
“Bloody hell, Danny,” she whispered, her voice shaky but laced with something hungry. Her eyes dropped to my cock, widening a little as she took it in. “You’re… big.” I smirked, despite the heat rushing to my face. “Yeah, well, you’re making me like this, Mum.”
I shifted closer, my knees brushing against her bare thigh. The pink nightie was bunched up around her waist now, her tits still out, heavy and perfect. Her nipples were dark and stiff, begging to be touched again. She bit her lip, a nervous little gesture that somehow made her look even hotter.
“We shouldn’t… oh God, we really shouldn’t.” But her body was saying something else. Her hips twitched, just a tiny movement, but enough to tell me she wanted more. I slid my hand back up her thigh, pushing the nightie higher until her knickers were fully exposed. They were a pale blue lace, clinging to her, the fabric damp and practically see-through at the crotch. I could see the outline of her fanny through them, the soft swell of her lips, and it made my cock twitch hard.
“Tell me to stop then,” I said, my voice rough. I hooked my fingers under the waistband of her knickers and tugged them down slowly, inch by inch, revealing the dark curls of her pubic hair and then the glistening pink of her fanny. It was gorgeous, the lips puffy and slick, the clit peeking out just a bit, begging for attention. The scent hit me—musky, warm, pure sex. My mouth watered.
She didn’t say a word. Just let out a shaky breath, her chest heaving as her tits rose and fell. “Danny…” she murmured, but it wasn’t a no. It was more like a plea. I pulled her knickers all the way off, tossing them to the floor, and spread her thighs wider. Her fanny was fully on display now, wet and open, the inner lips a deeper pink, shining with her arousal. I ran a finger along her slit again, collecting her juices, and she shivered, letting out a soft, needy moan. The sound went straight to my cock.
“Fuck, Mum, you’re dripping,” I muttered, sliding two fingers inside her. She was tight, but so warm and slick, her walls clenching around me instantly. I pumped them in and out slowly, watching her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, her mouth parting as she let out a low, desperate hum.
“Ohh… Danny, that’s…” she trailed off, her voice breaking into a whimper as I curled my fingers, hitting that spot inside her. Her hips bucked a little, pushing against my hand. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to be inside her. I pulled my fingers out, her fanny making a wet, squelching sound as I did, and positioned myself between her legs. My cock hovered right at her entrance, the tip brushing against her wet lips. The heat of her was unreal, and I groaned just from that tiny contact.
“You want this?” I asked, my voice thick with need. I rubbed the head of my cock up and down her slit, spreading her juices over me, teasing her clit with every pass. She gasped, her hands gripping the couch cushions.
“God, Danny… yes, just… do it,” she breathed, her voice trembling but sure. Her eyes locked onto mine, wide and full of lust. I didn’t need any more encouragement. I pushed forward, the head of my cock slipping inside her fanny with a slow, delicious stretch.
She was so tight, her walls gripping me like a vice, hot and wet and perfect. I groaned, low and rough, as I inched deeper, feeling every bit of her.
“Fuck, Mum, you feel so good.” She let out a sharp, breathy cry, her head tipping back against the couch.
“Ahh, Danny… oh my God, you’re so big.” Her hands moved to my shoulders, gripping tight as I pushed in further, filling her completely. I paused for a second, buried to the hilt, just savouring the way her fanny pulsed around me. It was like she was sucking me in, every little twitch and clench driving me wild. I could feel the heat of her core, the slickness coating my cock, and it took everything in me not to start pounding her right then and there.
“You okay?” I asked, my voice strained. I wanted to make sure she was with me, even though every part of me was screaming to move. She nodded, panting softly. “Yeah… yeah, just… go slow at first, okay? It’s been a while.” Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath.
I nodded, pulling out just a bit before sliding back in, slow and steady. The friction was insane, her fanny gripping me tight, the wet heat making a soft squelch with every thrust. I kept the pace gentle, watching her face for any sign of discomfort, but all I saw was pleasure. Her eyes were half-lidded, her mouth open in a silent moan.
“Ohh, that’s… that’s good,” she whispered, her voice breaking into a sweet little cry as I hit that spot again. Her hands slid down my back, nails digging in just a bit, urging me on.
I picked up the pace a little, thrusting deeper, feeling her fanny stretch and clench around me. Every stroke was pure heaven, the way she squeezed my cock, the way her juices coated me, dripping down between us. I could smell her arousal, sharp and intoxicating, mixing with the faint scent of wine on her breath.
“Fuck, Mum, you’re so tight,” I grunted, leaning down to kiss her neck. Her skin was warm and soft, and I sucked lightly, leaving a mark as I thrust harder. Her tits bounced with every movement, heavy and perfect, the nipples brushing against my chest through my tank top.
“Ahh, harder, Danny,” she moaned, her voice desperate now. Her hips started to move with me, meeting my thrusts, pushing herself onto my cock. “Ungh, ah yes, right there.” I obliged, gripping her hips and pounding into her with more force. The couch creaked under us, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room. Her fanny made wet, filthy noises with every thrust, her juices slicking my cock, some of it dripping down to her arse and onto the cushions. I could feel her getting wetter, her walls fluttering around me like she was close.
“Mmm… don’t stop… yes, there… ohhh,” she gasped, her nails digging harder into my back. Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me deeper, and I groaned at the angle. It let me hit even deeper, feeling the tight ring of her cervix with every thrust.
“Oh my God—faster! Yes! Ohhh yesss!” she cried out, her voice breaking into a high, desperate moan. Her tits jiggled wildly now, and I couldn’t resist. I leaned down, taking one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard as I fucked her. It was stiff and warm against my tongue, and she let out a sudden scream of pleasure.
“Ahhhhh, Danny my pussy ahhhh can’t… believe I am letting… you fuck me!” Her body tensed under me, her fanny clamping down on my cock like a bloody vice. I could feel her orgasm rip through her, her walls pulsing, milking me as she came. Her juices gushed around me, hot and sticky, coating my cock and dripping down my balls. I wasn’t far behind. The way she squeezed me, the way she moaned my name—it was too much.
My balls tightened, the pressure building fast. “Fuck, Mum, I’m gonna cum,” I grunted, my thrusts getting sloppy, erratic.
“Do it, Danny, cum inside me,” she panted, her voice raw and needy. Her hands grabbed my arse, pulling me deeper, and that was it.
I exploded, my cock throbbing as I shot load after load into her fanny. It was intense, like a bloody eruption, each spurt hot and thick, filling her up. I could feel it, the way my cum mixed with her juices, the way her walls kept clenching, drawing every last drop out of me. I groaned, long and low, my hips jerking with the aftershocks as I emptied myself inside her.
We stayed like that for a moment, panting, sweaty, my cock still buried in her fanny. Her chest heaved, her tits pressed against me, and I could feel the rapid beat of her heart. My cum started to leak out around my cock, a slow, sticky drip down her thighs and onto the couch. It was white and thick, mixing with her clear, slick juices, the sight and feel of it disgustingly hot.
“Bloody hell, Danny,” she finally whispered, her voice hoarse. She let out a shaky laugh, her hands sliding up to my face. “That was… fuck, that was wrong. But so good.” I smirked, still catching my breath.
“Yeah. Fucking amazing.” I pulled out slowly, watching as more of my cum dripped from her fanny, the lips puffy and red from the pounding. It was a mess, a beautiful, filthy mess.
She shivered, closing her legs a little, but not before I saw the way my cum clung to her inner thighs, sticky and obscene.
“We can’t… we can’t tell anyone about this,” she mumbled, her voice small but firm.
“Never,” I agreed, leaning down to kiss her forehead. My cock was still half-hard, twitching at the sight of her, but I knew we needed a breather.
“Our secret, Mum.” She nodded, pulling the nightie back down to cover herself, though it did little to hide the mess we’d made. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes glassy with post-orgasm haze. “God, I need a shower now,” she muttered, a tiny smirk tugging at her lips. I chuckled, sitting back on the couch, my joggers still around my knees.
“Yeah, me too. Wanna… share one?” Her eyes snapped to mine, a mix of shock and intrigue.
“Danny, you’re impossible,” she said, but there was a laugh in her voice, a spark of something that told me she wasn’t entirely against the idea.