Sunday night, the familiar buzz of too much beer was thick in my head. I was sprawled on my bed, the sheets tangled around my legs, a dull ache throbbing behind my eyes. But it wasn’t just the beer making me restless; a different kind of throb had started further south. I was horny, plain and simple, and Mia’s name floated through my mind like a siren song. I started jerking off, my hand already slick against myself, when the thought hit me – a quick pic for Mia. She’d appreciate it.
My phone felt heavy in my clumsy, beer-numbed fingers. I aimed, snapped, and without really looking, hit send. Then, my eyes finally managed to focus on the recipient name. My stomach plummeted faster than a stone in a well.
Mom.
Not Mia. Mom. In the next room.
“SHIT,” I typed, scrambling, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. “Delete it omg I am so so sorry mom fuck.” I hit send again, praying, begging for a digital miracle that wouldn’t come.
A text came back almost instantly, the vibration making my heart jump against my ribs. “OMG what the fuck Adam, you dumbass LOL. I was not expecting that at this time of night haha. Good job your dad is working nights and did not see it.”
A wave of relief, hot and dizzying, washed over me. She wasn’t disgusted. Angry, maybe, but there was a “LOL” in there. And a “haha.” What the hell?
My fingers still trembled, but I managed a reply. “Sorry, I am so embarrassed. I honestly meant to send it to Mia. Please forgive me please, I am so sorry.” The words felt inadequate, hollow. I wanted to disappear.
Moments later, another message. “Stop it, it’s ok, don’t beat yourself up. It was a mistake. Men probably send dick pics all the time. Maybe not to their mother lol but it’s all good, sweetheart. I’m sure if you send it again but this time to Mia she’ll appreciate it, bloody lucky girl.”
My mouth went dry. Lucky? I chuckled despite myself, a nervous, breathless sound. “Lucky? What do you mean?” I hit send, a weird knot forming in my gut, a mix of lingering embarrassment and a strange, budding curiosity.
Her reply popped up immediately. “What do I mean Adam? Well, let’s just say not every girl gets a man who’s… that well-equipped. And you, my dear, are definitely well-equipped. Mia’s a lucky girl indeed. You always were a handsome boy, but clearly, you’ve grown into quite the man.”
I stared at the screen, my breath catching. My mom was complimenting my dick. My mom. The beer fog in my brain seemed to clear, replaced by a sudden, intense heat that spread through my chest and down, right back to where I’d been stroking myself moments ago. It was already twitching back to life.
“Mom, seriously, are you drunk too? That’s… wow. I don’t even know what to say. Thanks, I guess? But maybe we should stop talking about this.” My thumb hovered over the send button, a part of me screaming to delete it, but another, more primal part, desperate for her to keep going.
A new text came instantly, like she’d anticipated my hesitation. “Why stop? I’m just being honest. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a grown man now, Adam. We can talk about anything. Don’t be shy.”
Don’t be shy? That was a dare. A challenge. The darkness in my room suddenly felt heavy, charged with unspoken possibility. “I’m not shy, I’m mortified. And buzzed. I still can’t believe I did that.”
“Believe it. And you know what? I’m glad we are talking now. This is actually kind of intense.”
Intense wasn’t the word. It was exhilarating. Terrifying. And undeniably, incredibly arousing. “It is intense. I feel like I’m doing something completely wrong, but I can’t look away from my screen.”
“Me neither. I keep staring at the last message you sent.”
“Which one? The compliment about you?” I typed, a sly smile tugging at my lips. I was pushing, testing the waters, and she wasn’t shutting me down.
“No, the one before that. About being well-equipped. It made me feel good. A lot of guys worry about that.”
My chest puffed out involuntarily. Even from my mom, the validation felt good. And now I knew she’d looked. Really looked. “Well, you don’t need to worry. Trust me.”
“How can you be so sure? You only saw a picture.” Her teasing was getting more pronounced, a playful edge I’d never heard from her before.
“I saw enough, Mom. It’s obvious. It’s a very big picture.” The word ‘Mom’ felt strange, almost a placeholder in this wildly inappropriate conversation.
“It was an angle, maybe.”
“No angle needed. It was impressive. Even if it was aimed at Mia.”
I hesitated, my breath catching as I typed slowly, carefully. This was the line. “I think I’m more excited right now that it was aimed at you.”
Her reply was swift. “Don’t say that, Adam. That’s really crossing a line.” For a second, my heart sank. Had I pushed too far? But then, a beat later, another text. “Is it? You said we could talk about anything. You reacted like you enjoyed it.”
The relief made my head spin. She wasn’t mad. She was… challenging me again. “I enjoyed the shock value, yes. And the compliment. And I enjoy this conversation. It’s ridiculous, but thrilling.”
“So do I. It feels good to talk to you like this. Honest.” The words came easily now, a forbidden truth spilling out.
“It is honest. I don’t think I’ve been this honest with anyone in years.”
“Me neither. Now, about those tight jeans again.” I deliberately brought it back to her body, to things I’d noticed, things that had always lingered in my subconscious.
“Why those jeans, Adam? You see me wear lots of clothes.” Her tone was light, but I could almost hear the smile in her voice.
“Because they showed everything off perfectly. The curve of your hip. The way your thigh muscle bunched when you walked fast. You always look so… good in them.”
“You’re making me blush, Adam. In the dark.”
“I can imagine it. You look hot when you blush.” My eyes were scanning the ceiling, imagining her in her room, sprawled on her bed like me, her cheeks flushed.
“Enough about my blushing. You mentioned something about my chest earlier. That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” The bait was dangling. I took it.
“No. You wear shirts that show them off. That blue v-neck you wore yesterday? It was low. Couldn’t help but notice.” My eyes had absolutely devoured her that day.
“It’s summer. It’s breathable.” A soft laugh emoji followed.
“It was more than breathable. It was distracting. In the best way.”
“Distracting you from what?”
“From my video game. I kept looking over when you walked by. They looked perfect. Like they were just… spilling out, waiting.” My voice was getting husky, even though she couldn’t hear it. I was imagining the soft swell, the curve, the way the fabric stretched and dipped.
“You’re a terrible son.” There was no heat in the words, only amusement.
“Maybe. But I’m telling the truth. They are really nice, Mom. Always have been.” It felt good to say it out loud, to have her acknowledge it.
“Thank you, I guess. I always thought they were too big now that I’m older.”
“No way. They are exactly right. They fit your body perfectly. They make your waist look small. Emphasize everything.” I was picturing them, the full, round weight of them, pressing against the fabric.
“You really know how to make a woman feel good, Adam.”
“I learned it from watching you.” It slipped out, a raw, honest admission of lifelong observation. I saw her body, I saw how men looked at her, how she carried herself. I saw things Dad probably hadn’t noticed in years.
“Oh, stop. Don’t bring that into it.” A slight edge, but still playful.
“Sorry. Just trying to be honest. Completely honest.” I paused, taking a breath. This was it. “The truth is, I haven’t been complimented this much on my body since before you were born.”
That hit me. A pang of something, pity? Sadness? Or just a confirmation that I was right, that she was neglected. “That’s sad. You deserve it.”
“It just makes me wonder… if I should wear those jeans more often.”
“Definitely. And the blue top.” My thumb hovered again. The alcohol, the arousal, the forbidden thrill – they were all pushing me. “Maybe less bra though.”
“Adam! Boundaries.” The word was a digital slap, but it felt weak, almost performative. Then, a beat later, a second text. “For your information, I don’t actually wear bras with that top. The straps always show.”
My breath hitched. I knew it. I knew it. My eyes had been right. All those times I’d caught glimpses, the way the fabric moved… there was nothing holding them back. My dick pulsed, throbbing hard against my boxers. “Sorry. Just thinking about how comfortable that silk nightgown must be. And how little coverage it provides. You sound good.” I was trying to paint a picture, to push her into imagining what I was seeing in my head.
“It provides just enough. It’s sophisticated.” But the emoji she sent was a winking face.
“I bet it is. I bet I could see through it if the light hit it right.” My voice was barely a whisper now, even though I was just typing.
“Maybe. You’d have to come closer to find out.”
There it was. An invitation. Disguised as a tease, but an invitation nonetheless. My blood roared in my ears. “Is that an invitation? I am just laid on my bed in just my boxers.”
“NO! Adam, no. I’m joking. We are in the next room. You’re drunk. This is just talk. Keep it talk.” Her words were firm, but the speed of her reply, the quick negation, felt like a desperate attempt to rein in something she’d unleashed.
I sighed, a frustrated growl escaping my throat. My body was screaming, my dick rigid and painfully erect. “Now you got my imagination all over the place, and hard again with your teasing. At least send a pic.” I knew it was bold, but she was riding this line with me.
Mom’s response came quickly, almost imperceptibly fast. “Adam, stop playing with fire. We both know where this could go if we don’t cool it down. Since well me and your dad have not done it in months.”
Months. The word echoed in my mind. Neglected. Unused. It was all I could think about, her pussy, hidden inside her panties, aching. The image of her, waiting, wanting, consumed me.
I typed a quick message back, my fingers flying. “Yeah, I haven’t had it in 3 days, and I am frustrated. What are you doing now?” I wasn’t going to let her back away now. She’d gone too far, and so had I.
The ellipsis bounced on her screen for what felt like an eternity. Then, one word. “Waiting.”
My heart hammered. “Waiting for what?” My breath was shallow, my body buzzing with anticipation.
“For you to quit being a coward and come over here.”
That was it. Permission. A direct challenge. My mind went blank of all fear, all embarrassment. Only primal want remained. I threw my phone onto the bed, scrambling off, not even bothering to pull on a pair of shorts. My dick, hard and heavy, bounced against my inner thigh as I moved.
Her bedroom door was slightly ajar. A thin stripe of light from the hall spilled across the carpet. I pushed it open slowly, my eyes adjusting. She was sitting up in bed, silhouetted against the moonlight filtering through the window, her silk nightgown clinging to her curves. Just as I’d imagined.
“Mom?” My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
She looked up, her eyes wide, glistening in the dim light. She didn’t say anything, just watched me, a knowing, hungry expression on her face. Her hand, almost unconsciously, reached up and trailed along her collarbone, tugging at the thin strap of her gown.
I walked into the room, my gaze fixed on her. My blood was a raging river in my veins. Each step was deliberate, a ritual. When I reached the foot of her bed, I stopped, letting her take me in. My raw, exposed desire.
“You’re really here,” she breathed, her voice a little shaky.
“You invited me.” I leaned down, resting my hands on the mattress, my face close to hers. The scent of her – a mix of her perfume and something wilder, warmer – filled my nostrils.
“I did.” She reached out, her fingers brushing against my chest, a feather-light touch that sent shivers through me. “And you came, just like I hoped.”
“I’ve wanted to come to you for longer than you know,” I confessed, the words ripped from my chest. All those years, all those glances, all those forbidden thoughts.
Her eyes searched mine, a flicker of something raw and desperate. “You’re a wild boy, Adam.”
“And you’re a tempting woman, Mom.” I climbed onto the bed, pushing myself closer, my knees sinking into the soft mattress. The silk of her nightgown felt cool against my burning skin as my leg brushed hers.
She didn’t pull away. Instead, her hands found my waist, her touch surprisingly firm. “Are you sure about this?” her voice was barely a whisper, a last, fleeting moment of doubt.
“Never been more sure.” I leaned in, my mouth hovering inches from hers. Her lips parted, a soft sigh escaping. I couldn’t wait any longer. I crashed my mouth down on hers, a desperate, hungry kiss that tasted of beer, want, and forbidden pleasure.
Her hands gripped my sides, pulling me closer still, her body arching into mine. Her lips were soft, yielding, and she returned my kiss with an intensity that burned through me. My hand found the hem of her silk nightgown, pulling it up slowly, revealing the smooth skin of her thigh, then the soft curve of her buttock.
“You feel so good,” I mumbled against her mouth, my hand exploring, tracing the lines of her body. “So soft.”
Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me tighter. “You too, baby. You feel so hard.”
I broke the kiss, my eyes locking with hers. “I’m so hard for you, Mom. I’ve been thinking about you all night.” My hand slipped between her legs, feeling the warm, wet silk of her panties.
She gasped, her hips instinctively bucking against my palm. “Adam…” It was a plea, a warning, and an invitation all at once.
“Shh,” I whispered, my fingers teasing the lace of her underwear, feeling the dampness underneath. “Just let me.” I didn’t wait for an answer. I hooked my fingers under the waistband and peeled her panties down, slowly, deliberately. She lifted her hips, helping me, her nails digging into my shoulders.
When her bare skin was exposed, I pressed my palm flat against her, feeling the heat, the slick wetness. Her pussy was swollen, begging to be touched. I slipped a finger in, and she cried out softly, her body trembling beneath my touch.
“Oh, God, Adam,” she moaned, her head falling back against the pillow. “It’s been so long. So, so long.”
I leaned down, kissing her neck, her jawline, her ear. “I know, Mom. I’m here now. I’ll make you feel good.” My finger worked deeper, teasing, circling her clit until her hips were grinding against my hand, her legs tangling around mine.
“Please, Adam. Please.” Her voice was raw with desire.
I pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. “Are you ready for me?”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes, not from sadness, but from overwhelming need. “Yes. Fuck me, Adam. Fuck me hard.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I positioned myself between her legs, my thick cock pressing against her drenched slit. The sight of her, spread open for me, made my head spin. I pushed, slowly at first, feeling her stretch, hearing her sharp intake of breath. Then, with a grunt, I drove myself deep inside her.
She cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure, her entire body seizing around me. It was tight, so incredibly tight, a perfect, scorching fit. My balls slapped against her ass as I buried myself to the hilt.
“Oh, fuck,” I groaned, clenching my jaw. The sensation was beyond anything I’d ever imagined. Her warmth, her scent, her inner walls clamping down on me.
“Adam! So good,” she panted, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me even deeper.
I started to move, slow, deliberate thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in. Each stroke made her moan, a guttural sound that thrilled me to my core. Her breasts, unconstrained, bounced with every movement, and I leaned down, taking one in my mouth, suckling hard.
She arched into me, her hips rising to meet every thrust. “Yes! Like that, baby. Fuck me hard, Adam. Don’t stop.” Her voice was a desperate whisper in my ear.
I abandoned her breast, my hands gripping her ass, lifting her slightly, making our connection even deeper. I picked up the pace, slamming into her with a furious rhythm, listening to the wet slap of our bodies, the creak of the bed, her escalating moans.
“I’m gonna cum,” she choked out, her body tensing, her nails digging into my back. “Can’t… believe your making your mom cum honey.”
I felt it too, the exquisite pressure building, the heat intensifying. “Me too, Mom. Right with you.” I pumped into her faster, harder, a primal roar escaping my throat. Her body convulsed around me, her climax ripping through her, a guttural scream escaping her lips.
And then I erupted, a hot, thick flood of cum pouring deep inside her pussy, filling her completely. I groaned, my body shaking, collapsing on top of her, still buried deep. Her arms wrapped around me, holding me tight, as we both lay there, gasping, sweat slicking our bodies.
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the aftermath, but not with regret. Her fingers stroked my hair, a tender, loving touch.
“That was… intense,” she whispered, her voice still shaky, a soft smile on her lips.
I lifted my head, meeting her gaze. “Yeah,” I breathed, kissing her forehead. “The best.” And looking into her eyes, I knew, absolutely knew, it was far from over.