***This story was a challenge as it’s not an area I know and has all kinds of taboo in it. Feedback (don’t be a negative jerk) is welcome!****
It had been 4 years since the accident that ruined my husband. One drunkard on the interstate, then a year and a half in the hospital, and another few months of in and out physical therapy before they gave up and put him in a wheelchair. He lounges around the house now, barely able to tilt his neck to look at me when I’m speaking, barely able to move his wrist further than the joystick he’s got controlling himself, but still, he was fully capable of telling me what to do still. It went far beyond just the necessary food and water for him. Telling me to throw out all my old sex toys, asking me to remain faithful and abstinent in his crippled state. I still loved him of course, but it was frustrating, and I was getting lonely without any intimacy.
As much as it hurt me to see my husband in this state, I couldn’t imagine what my son was going through. He had grown distant, he was angrier, went through girlfriend after girlfriend, detention and detention, before he left for college. Not that he lasted too long there, coming back to live with us despite not even a semester having passed. He was still young, good-looking, and just, so horny. Every weekend it felt like, with girls over in his bedroom. I could hear murmurs through the walls on some nights. Moans, pounding against the bed, obvious sucking noises, the regular stuff a man of his stature could supply. It was, rather tormenting, really, considering I couldn’t even have sex with my own husband. I would press my ear against the door and listen to him, touching myself and stifling my moans, but always having to stop before I came, narrowly missing him swinging the door open to use the bathroom.
That was all the excitement my life allowed, unfortunately. I would’ve killed to do something fun, been somewhere else, pleasure myself for the love of god.
It all changed one autumn day.
I awoke in the middle of the night and needed desperately to use the bathroom. I stumbled out of bed and down the halls, groggy and still more than half asleep. I opened the bathroom door, not noticing the light on, and found my son standing upright, somehow fully erect, angling his massive cock down into the toilet, releasing a light-yellow stream into the toilet. For a couple seconds, he didn’t notice I was there. He was more tired than I had been. I watched him piss and thought about someone using my mouth as an overflowing urinal, which was just another thing I hadn’t done in ages. The water’s light splash eventually brought him back and he swatted me away, awkwardly trying to hide his manhood from my staring.
“Sorry,” he muttered as he left the bathroom and walked back to his room, still nude. I ran in and looked down at the seat. He had left it down, and dribbled a significant amount of piss on the seat. I was so horny, seeing his cock, thinking about the good old days when I’d have a line of people waiting to use me. I dropped down and licked the seat clean, gliding my tongue slowly across, tasting its slight saltiness. It was still a little warm. I swallowed, then dropped my panties and masturbated on the toilet. I was moist as hell, and only a few minutes went by before I squirted all over the bathroom floor.
The next morning, I awoke like normal. Made breakfast, did the dishes, tended to my husband. The thought of my son’s piss stewed in the back of my mind the whole time. His hard cock, him cumming down my throat or inside my pussy, anything he could want to do to me. Maybe it’s because I was so repressed, but it wasn’t like my son wasn’t a viable sexual option. I thought that maybe I could try to get closer to him, let him fuck his mom a couple times. I could finally relieve some tension, and I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to getting his dick sucked. It was a matter of approaching him, really. I definitely didn’t know how to talk to him about it. Could I really just have some sort of blunt discussion about it? Just come out and say, “hey son, please fuck me?”
Well, it was worth a shot I suppose.
He didn’t take it well at first.
He was upset, left the house for a few days. My husband barely noticed. I was worried he’d never come back, that this was the wrong decision. I realized how abnormal my feelings were, and was filled with shame about it. Not that that shame was enough to stop me from fingering myself in his bed every night he wasn’t sleeping in it.
He came back after three days, and didn’t speak for the first couple hours he was back. I was cleaning up after dinner and he beckoned me into his room. He said nothing and rummaged through his top drawer, muttering incoherently to himself. He pulled out a large purple dildo, and handed it to me.
“A girl left it here once. You’ll find more use out of it than I do. I’m… sorry I stormed out the other day. I just need some time to mull this all over,” he said. He smiled a low smile as I walked out of the room. The toy he gave me was still musty, with a vague white crust formed near the base. After giving it a good lick, I washed it off in the sink and sat down on the living room couch with it. I tugged my panties down around my ankles and flicked the switch on the base. It vibrated steadily in my hand as I pressed the tip against my clit. I moaned, ensuring that my sleeping husband upstairs couldn’t hear. The tip entered, followed slowly by the rest of the purply dick. I undid my blouse and played with my sensitive left nipple. God, it was the best I had felt in years. I felt like a woman I hadn’t been in years. It was like I could see myself from the outside, a sexy middle-aged mom, her tits still swollen and rocking, the perfect body proportions, pleasuring herself for her own sake.
It was the exact confidence boost I needed to stay naked as I walked back into my son’s room.
I knew he was still awake; I could hear his laptop playing porn. (I didn’t know at the time, but thinking back it definitely was mother/son.) The door creaked open and his eyes came to meet mine. The only light came from his bedside lamp, leaving the room with a vague yellowish glow. His eyes broke from mine and darted to my tits, down to my pussy, dripping down my inner thigh. The tight grip he had on his cock loosened as blood pumped into it. He licked his lips.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Like really sure that this is what you want.”
“Of course, silly. I wouldn’t have made it this far if this isn’t what I wanted”
“Alright,” he smiled, “Let’s do it.”
A smile overtook my face and I walked over to the bed. I sat on the edge and took his cock in my palm. It was rock hard. The stiffest I had ever felt. Immovable and upright. My hand moved along the underside of it, grabbing at the top and beginning to stroke him off. The scent of his room finally got to me. Musky, with the smell of cum-stained boxers permeating my nostrils. Oh, how it drove me wild. I looked closely at his dick. It reminded me of my husband’s, in a way. Thick where it needs to be, never circumcised. But this was far more impressive than my husband’s. It was longer, much more finely groomed, and it was still functional, thank god.
I sat closer to him, my knees touching his torso, right hand jacking my son off, and my left slowly guiding his hand to my breast.
“Go on, play with it,” I told him. Naturally, he obliged, squeezing it gently and using his finger to stimulate the nipple. I needed more than that, though. I put my hand on the back of his head and gently brought his head up to my boob.
“Should I suck them?” he asked. He never was the brightest.
“Yes, yes you should,” I replied. His mouth formed around my areola and he began to suckle. I bit my lip as he began. My pussy flooded. Despite the fact I hadn’t breastfed since he was born, drops of milk began to form in his mouth, starting with a soft and short droplet, but quickly gushing into a constant trickle into his mouth. I let out a moan for him. He sucked harder and I jacked him faster.
“I need you to finger me baby,” I asked. He obliged, reaching his arm over his stomach, sticking two fingers up my loosened wet pussy. Minutes passed in this state of enhanced ecstasy. He greedily slurped down my breastmilk and I moaned intensely. My husband had never made me feel this good, I thought to myself. Even in his prime. I looked around the room for a condom, eyeing the top of every shelf and all along the floor. Dirty clothes, old trophies, not a condom in my sight.
I pulled my breast away from his mouth, letting milk spill over his chin and down his cheek. “Do you have any condoms?” I asked him.
“No, no I don’t have any with me,” he replied quickly. “Do you really need one?” he asked. I thought about the question for a moment. Weighed my options. On one hand, fucking without a condom isn’t all that safe. I had no clue where my son’s dick had been. On another, hornier hand, I knew how badly I needed his cum in me. I didn’t care, I could tell he didn’t either. We had gotten this far. Any stupid taboo we could possibly be concerned with was long thrown out the window of our minds.
Before I knew it, I was riding my son’s cock. My large thighs wrapped around his waist and our hands clasped into one another. His cock slowly penetrated me at first, sliding in easily to the middle of his shaft, but I struggled to fit the rest of his length inside me. God, he was almost too big. It felt so surreal to think how I had created this monster inside me. It wasn’t long before we reached a perfect rhythm. Both my breasts leaked droplets of milk, bouncing off and splattering across the sheets and floor. He rolled his head back, I threw my hair and arched my back. We were both moaning and groaning, loud enough that if my husband was still awake, he most certainly would have heard.
I felt his cock twitch inside me. “I’m… close” he said through parted breaths.
“Fuck yeah,” I replied, “I’m close too”
The riding slowed, and I slammed down on his dick when I felt it twitch the hardest. He blasted the insides of me with his cum. It flowed out of the tip of his dick with reckless abandon, filling my womb, infiltrating into my stomach, and making it bulge the slightest bit. With his cock still deep inside me, his cum dripped along the lips of my pussy and down the sides of his balls. I had a smile, ear to ear, eyes closed in pure bliss. It stopped, at some point, and I hoisted myself off, leaving a stringy white trail from his dick to my pussy. It dripped from my hole for minutes, but I was too busy polishing his cock off with my tongue to notice. Sucking around his balls to clean them off, licking the tip of his cock clean.
“Hey mom, are you almost done? I gotta piss, bad,” he told me. It came to my mind I never told him about the mess of his I lapped up a few days prior.
“Well, go on,” I told him, wrapping my mouth around his dick and angling it down my throat. For the first time, he understood without question, letting a stream of hot piss loose into my mouth. He seemed too tired to care about what he was doing. I sucked and swallowed every drop he gave me, until slowly, I began to miss a little, and more and more of his vile tasting urine was stored in my cheeks. He didn’t give me a chance to play catch-up. After only a few more moments my mouth burst open, unable to contain or swallow anymore piss. He wasn’t done, idly peeing on my face, drizzling down onto my nude torso. It stopped eventually, but his floor was stained like hell.
“Hey mom?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Have you had menopause? Like can you still get pregnant?” he asked. I pondered it for a moment.
“Well, actually, I guess I can still get pregnant. I wasn’t really thinking about that,” I said. He put his face in his hands and groaned. I smiled, still feeling the dribbles of cum pour out of my pussy.
I left his room with a kiss on his forehead and a promise to clean it up in the morning. The first time was the time I remember best. It happened almost every night a week after that, in his room, in the backyard. Once at the neighbor’s barbecue, we did it in their bathroom, which was especially fun because it was the first time he ever came in my ass. It was only a few months before my belly started bulging. My husband couldn’t have given less a shit, it felt like. Seeing me pregnant though only made my son more ferocious. A couple times a day then, he would feverishly down my milk and fuck me harder and harder. He invited girls over a few times to join in, and a couple of his guy friends to help rail me too. I was the town slut again, after years and years of my title lost. The first baby was born a girl, and my son promised he’d raise her right, like I did with him.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/p1cjmm/robs_story_mf_incestwater_sportspregnancy_triggers