I’ve never been able to look at my mother the same since I left for college. Seeing her in tight, revealing clothing that accentuates her curves, her breasts straining against the fabric of her low-cut tops. The way her miniskirts hug her thick thighs as she walks around the house half-naked. She’s been acting out of character, dressing like a total slut lately. I think it’s a cry for attention, but I’m the only one around to give it to her.
I couldn’t believe my luck as I drove up to Mom’s place, the festive lights twinkling in the cold winter air. It had been three long months since I’d seen her, and the anticipation of our reunion had been driving me crazy. Mom, or Jeanne Catherine LaMonica as she’s insisted on being called since her divorce, was always a sight to behold – but now, at 42, she was getting more and more daring with her wardrobe choices. And Jesus, did it work for her.
My name is Anthony, and I’m 21 years old, a sophomore in college. I am tall with dark hair and brown eyes. I’ve grown into a handsome young man. My athletic build turns heads, especially among the female students on campus. But nothing could prepare me for the way my heart races when I see my own mother, Jeanne Catherine LaMonica, walking around the house in nothing but a lacy bra and panties.
I know it’s wrong to desire your own mother, but now that she is divorced, I can’t help the way I feel. Jeanne Catherine LaMonica is stunning, with her long blond hair, intense brown eyes, and voluptuous figure that she flaunts in the skimpiest outfits. I’ve caught myself staring at her more times than I care to admit, my cock getting hard just from the sight of her.
That night, I fell asleep in my old childhood bedroom, replaying a fantasy in my head. Then in my dream, Jeanne Catherine LaMonica knocked on my door and slipped inside, closing it behind her. She removed her clothes, revealing her perfect body, and climbed onto my bed. “Anthony, mommy needs some help unwrapping her presents,” she teased, rubbing against me. “Mom, Mom, Mom,” I chanted, my fingers discovering her dripping wet pussy, slick and ready for me. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Jeanne Catherine LaMonica’s eyes glowed with a feral intensity as she leaned over me, her breasts swaying hypnotically above my face. “Shh, baby,” she cooed, “just let go. I’ll take care of you.”
And then, in the dream, she straddled my face, her sweet nectar flooding my senses as I buried my mouth between her thighs. I devoured her, sucking and licking with a desperation born of years of pent-up desire.
When she finally climbed up my body, her pussy poised above my throbbing cock, I was delirious with anticipation. “Please, Mom,” I begged, my voice cracking with need. “Fuck me. Make me yours.”
I woke up with a start, my cock rock hard and throbbing in my boxer briefs. And that’s when I saw her, Jeanne Catherine LaMonica, straddling me, her wet pussy sliding up and down my shaft. My mouth fell open in shock, but I didn’t stop her. If anything, my arousal spiked, and I reached up to grip her hips.
“F-fuck me, mommy,” I whispered, my voice shaking with desire.
Jeanne Catherine LaMonica smiled, her eyes gleaming with lust. “With pleasure, baby,” she purred, sinking down until I was buried to the hilt inside her.
I groaned at the incredible feeling of being inside my mother. It was so wrong, yet so right. She started riding me, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her perfect tits as she moved above me.
“Fuck me, mommy,” I begged, my voice growing louder. “Harder!”
Jeanne Catherine LaMonica obliged, slamming her hips down on mine, her tight pussy gripping my cock so hard it felt like she was milking me. I gripped her ass, pulling her onto me with each pump of my hips.
“FUCK ME, Jeanne Catherine LaMonica! FUCK ME! Jeanne Catherine LaMonica! ” I shouted, over and over my orgasm building at the base of my spine.
Jeanne Catherine LaMonica leaned forward, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss as she rode me even harder. I could taste the champagne she’d been drinking earlier on her tongue, mixing with my own desire. It was intoxicating.
With a final thrust, I came hard, my cock pulsing as I filled my mother’s womb with my seed. Jeanne Catherine LaMonica moaned into my mouth, her pussy clenching around me as she found her own release.
We collapsed together, panting and sweaty, the reality of what we’d just done sinking in. Guilt and shame warred with the intense pleasure and satisfaction I felt. But as I looked into Jeanne Catherine LaMonica’s eyes, I saw no regret, only a deep, primal connection between us.
“I love you, mommy,” I whispered, pulling her close.
“I love you too, baby,” she replied, her voice soft and full of tender emotions. “Remember incest is always the best.
