My friend Tamara had told me that the only people who took out personal ads in our local weekly were "horny yuppies with more money than brains."
However, I had recently finalized my divorce after twenty-seven years of marriage, and I simply didn't know how to play the modern dating game. Besides, I could think of a lot worse things than a man with a fat wallet, a lonely cock, and an empty head.
One advertisement called to me again and again: "Good-looking professional, 26, who enjoys romantic encounters in dark theaters with mature women who remember the days of candlelight and roses. Let's share a bottle of fine, properly aged wine together and discuss our interests."
Tamara groaned when I pointed it out to her. "Kim, you're old enough to be that man's mother," she said as she jabbed her scarlet fingernail at the number 26. It was true, alas. I didn't like to remember it, but my own son was exactly that age.
"Well, he does say he likes mature women," I said.
"Kim, to a boy of 26, 47 isn't mature, it's ancient! Either that, or he's looking for a sugar mama. Why don't you let me set you up with my cousin Brian!"
Cousin Brian, I remembered, had hunched shoulders and looked a decade older than his fifty years.
"No, thanks, Tamara. I think I'm going to check this one out."
I sent him a cautious note, along with a photograph that showed my body from the neck down. Maybe I was being TOO cautious, but I wasn't ready to have naked photos of myself circulating around town with my real face or name attached! I reasoned that a good, long look at my lean, well-maintained figure would he enough to tell the man what he needed to know.
A couple of weeks passed, and then I found a note in my mailbox telling me to drop by a certain club any Tuesday for the next month. "I'll be the one with the silver wine bucket," he promised.
"Don't go," Tamara said. "You haven't even talked to him on the phone. Are you crazy!"
"Look," I said. "We're meeting in a public place. I'll just steal a look at him and if I don't like what I see, I'll leave. No worries, right!?"
Tamara just shook her head as I shimmied into a tight white skirt that she couldn't have worn since the summer of '67. It wasn't fair that I had such a firm, small belly since I'd had a kid and Tamara hadn't, but hey. That's the breaks. Anyway, I didn't need to fuss much with my appearance. I slicked on some coral lipstick and stepped into a pair of white, high-heeled sandals and I was ready to go.
The club was moderately crowded. I scanned several busy tables for a minute before I saw the one in the corner where a man sat alone with a silver bucket and a bottle of wine. Although I was looking at him from behind, where I could see nothing but the blonde curl that hung down like an inverted question mark from the back of his short, thick hair. I knew it was Matthew. My own son!
Just then he turned and saw me. Our eyes met across the crowded barroom floor. I remembered the sexy fantasies I'd had while slithering into my tight skirt, and I wasn't willing to give up the dream. I felt a sudden moistness in my panties as I realized how handsome my son really was.
"Mom!" he said, getting up and coming across the floor, "What are you doing here!"
I laughed. "Well, Matt, I guess you invited me!"
He flushed and then laughed as I explained. Somehow we wound up tucked in the corner table, where a waiter materialized to pour the wine. I could tell from his manner that he assumed that my son was actually my lover, and the way I giggled when I tasted the expensive libation did nothing to contradict that assumption.
"I didn't know you liked 'mature' women," I said to Matt after the waiter finally left.
"I suppose I have you to thank for that." He clicked his glass to mine. "You're a beautiful woman, Mom. Beautiful, intelligent, and sexy. I've often wondered where I would meet a woman as fine as you."
I felt flustered. We aren't a family that's much on compliments. Besides, Matt had suddenly slipped his hand into mine, squeezing it. I wasn't really surprised when he then took my hand and placed it gently in his lap so that I could feel his crotch. "Just looking at you in that skirt has me so hard, Mom," he whispered. "I need to fuck so bad."
"So do I," I confessed, before I could stop myself. The feel of Matt's hard cock was like a drug on me. My pussy was moistening rapidly. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to fuck my own son!
"I know it's wrong, Mom," he whispered. "But I want you so badly! Maybe I always have."
He wrapped my fingers about the bulge in his pants and instinctively I squeezed his erection. I was shocked at the size and stiffness of his prick. I couldn't remember when I had felt a cock of such prodigious proportions. My pussy was itching with a need to feel it between my legs.
"Come home with me, Mom," he whispered.
My brain told me that it was wrong, but my body wasn't listening anymore. All I wanted right then was my son's long hard cock fucking my neglected pussy.
I didn't remember much about the ride from the club to Matt's apartment except the speed at which the streetlights flashed past. I had both hands inside his pants stroking his hard, throbbing cock while he was driving, and I'm afraid that they may have provided something of a distraction.
When we reached his apartment, soft music came on. He'd wired the place somehow so that it did that automatically. I was surprised at the subtle eroticism of the recording he'd chosen. I suppose I'd expected something crude and vulgar from a younger lover, even if he was my own son. I should have known by now that Matt was a man of exquisite good taste. He took me in his arms and danced with me, waltzing me around his hardwood floor. I kept hunching my hips forward, eager to feel the hard lump in his trousers rub deliciously against my burning pussy.
Despite his obvious desire for sex. Matt didn't rush a thing. He was clearly the master of the show. When the song ended, he kissed me. Not the usual mother/son peck on the lips, a long, lingering passionate kiss that had my pussy bubbling with lust for him. He slithered his tongue into my mouth. I sucked it gently and then a little harder as I felt his hands drift down to unzip the back of my tight skirt.
I tried to remember to pull off one or another of his articles of clothing from time to time, but I was mostly letting him undress me. I was highly aroused, burning from the thrill of surrendering my body to the touch of my very own son.
When we were naked, I made him step back so that I could look at his body... just look at it. He was so beautiful! His shoulders were broad, his chest rippled with muscles, his belly flat, his hips tapered. His cock was long and thick. I was secretly afraid that I wouldn't be able to get all of it inside of me, but I sure as hell was going to have a lot of fun trying.
"It's been a long time since I've had sex," I told him. "I feel like a virgin with my own son."
"Come here, Mom!"
He took me into his arms and kissed me everywhere. The track of his wet tongue created a sensuous criss-cross pattern as it traversed the sensitive flesh of my too-long-neglected body. I quivered, painfully close to orgasm and yet so terribly afraid that I couldn't take the blast of long-denied feeling, when he sealed his young lips about the small bud of my clitoris.
"It's all right, Mom," he whispered, his warm breath tickling my pussy hair. "It's all right. Let go and enjoy. I'm going to make you feel so good."
He opened his mouth wider, so that he could simultaneously move his tongue down to my cuntslit while he continued to suck gently on my clitty button. I bucked my hips up in total abandon. Having my handsome young son eating my cunt like this was so deliciously dirty I knew I wouldn't last long before I came all over his tongue. My knees wobbled. I wasn't going to be able to remain standing if he insisted on giving me much intense pleasure.
But Matt was way ahead of me. Standing up, he took me by the hand and led me back to his bedroom. I'd never been there before, never stolen a glimpse at the masculine darkness of his heavy antique four-poster and black satin sheets. I felt as if I were going to bed with a stranger as my son tenderly lay me down and spread my thighs, eyeing of my juicy-wet cuntslit like a starving man.
"I want to suck you too, baby," I finally said, remembering the incredible hardness of that wonderfully large cock of his. I was still afraid that I couldn't handle all of it, but I desperately wanted to try.
Matt turned around on top of me and planted his knees on either side of my face before returning his lips to my pussy. It was the classic sixty-nine position, something his father hadn't much cared for. My son's lingual enthusiasm was infinitely better than my husband's dutiful slurps.
God, it was so intoxicating to be sucking on a prick that belonged to a man who was simultaneously licking out my pussy! That combined with the fact that the tongue in my cunt belonged to my own son, to me, was the ultimate turn on. I'd never been so aroused in my life!
As I sucked his long, hard cock deep into my mouth, I felt the deep stirrings of a long-delayed orgasm. I was so afraid that I was going to explode right into my son's face. But how could I hold back when he slipped his tongue that extra inch inside of me and pressed hard on some secret erogenous zone I had no idea I even possessed! I'd meant to show a fraction more control, but it was hopeless. I erupted in my first tongue-generated climax in a decade.
When he realized that I was cumming, Matt actually grew more excited. I suppose he could have forced himself to re-double the speed of his cartwheeling tongue, but he couldn't have faked the sudden extra dose of steel-hard stiffness in the prick he was hunching into my mouth.
My son was honestly aroused by the sweet, sticky taste of his own mother's cum. My own tongue had gotten a little clumsy because I had to keep gasping for breath around the thick plug of Matt's overstuffed cock. Suddenly, he went rigid above me. I recognized the signs instantly and reached up to grab his cute butt, pulling him down so that he could shoot all that lovely hot sperm deep into my throat.
We rested quietly for s few minutes in that position, my son's half-hard cock still between my lips. I savored one of my favorite sexual treats, a treat I'd almost forgotten over the years... the feeling of a man's prick getting hard again. It would probably be difficult for anyone except another woman to understand how powerfully excited it made me feel to know that I had my own son's cock swelling in my mouth at the simple touch of my tongue.
"I want to fuck you, Mom," Matt whispered.
I hated to let his cock slip from my mouth for even so much as a fraction of a second, but I knew that he wanted to hear me say it.
"I want it too, son," I told him.
"Please, Matt. Fuck your mother's hot pussy! Fuck me good!"
He raised his big, masculine body from mine long enough to turn himself around into the proper position between my open thighs. I lifted my legs up and wide as I took him in the classic missionary position. The hairy, swollen lips of my pussy trembled as I felt the head of his massive cockhead start to spread them open. Was I woman enough to take a man like this! My own son was hung like a stud horse and I was to be his filly. Would my poor, neglected cunt stretch as much as it needed to! Or would Matt split me in two with his incredibly thick weapon.
"It's alright, Mom," Matt whispered, sensing my fear. "I know that I'm larger than average, and definitely much bigger than Dad, so let's just take it slow and easy."
His voice was a soothing sing-song that relaxed me like he was hypnotizing me. My pussy stretched a little more and Matt slipped another inch inside of me. He never hurried. No matter how desperate I grew, no matter how wildly I rubbed my heels against his broad back, no matter how madly I whimpered into his ears, he took me a tantalizing inch at a time. It was the technique that another man might have used to fuck a woman's asshole, entering me so slowly that I couldn't help but open wide as my muscles ached to pull him in more.
"Fuck me, Son! Fuck me, Matt! Don't hold back. Give me the whole thing!"
And then he'd done it. I felt the head of his massive cock rubbing sensuously at the back wall of my swamp-wet pussy while my trembling pelvis squirmed against the flat muscle of his hard belly. The entire length of my son's incredible prick was buried inside of me!
My cunt was full, fuller than it had ever been before and it felt wonderful. I moved with him as Matt began to fuck me with a slow, steady rhythm. I was being fucked by my own son! My own son's cock was pumping in and out of my cunt, my little boy's prick was stretching me, filling me, making my clit tingle and throb with the promise of orgasms like I'd never experienced before.
Matt had the consummate control that I would expect, and yet had never received from a much older man. I quickly discovered that I could buck and jerk my hips beneath him as violently as I wished, letting myself surrender to orgasm after orgasm without restraint.
My son just kept pumping away, and there was never a moment when I had to be afraid that he'd come too soon. The satin sheets were a soaking wet swamp that smelled strongly of jism and cunt-juice when we finally collapsed, my son's happy prick still inside of me.
"Jesus, baby! Who taught you how to fuck like that!" I asked, sighing deeply.
"I guess you did, Mom, since I've never fucked like that before."
His tongue stroked the curve of my ear, and I felt my belly quiver. I wanted him again! I wanted my son to fuck me till I dropped! Soon, soon, we would be entwined in yet another deliciously incestuous fuck. I reached for his cock and looked up into his eyes.
"How long can you keep this thing hard, darling", I husked, "Mommy wants to fuck you all night long."
Matt slipped two fingers into my juicy, wet slit and rubbed my clit, a devilish grin on his handsome young features. His cock was growing in my hand.
"Why don't we find out," he smiled, finger-fucking my hot hole. "I don't think you'll be disappointed, Mom."
When I slipped away from his bed at dawn, I felt a pleasant ache deep in my pussy, but I was totally satisfied. He HAD fucked me all night, in every possible position, and in every possible orifice. Some I'd secretly longed to try, like getting a cock up my ass for the first time, and some I'd never even heard of, although Matt had obviously perfected them on some lucky young girl.
My son was a wonderful lover, undoubtedly the most talented I'd ever had, and I knew that despite the fact that he was my own son, I simply had to continue the relationship we'd started. After sampling my son's talented young prick I was certain that I wouldn't be able to do without it for a single night.
At work, Tamara smirked when she asked me how my date had gone.
"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," I said. "The guy turned out to be my own son!"
She laughed. "Can I say 'I told you so!'"
"Go ahead! Say it." I said putting on a sad face.
But I was smiling a secret smile. Tamara never suspected for a second that I spent a night of unbridled fucking and sucking with my own son!
I wonder if I should tell her?