Anthony’s Secret Fantasy
Anthony Lamonica’s eyes roamed over his mother Jeanne’s curvy figure, practically burning with lust as he recalled the countless nights he’d fantasized about possessing every inch of her. For years, he’d been polite, respectful – even desperate – in his attempts to get her into bed. Still, Jeanne remained a frustrating enigma, her reserve as unbreakable as the walls of her tiny Fortress of Solitude.
“You’re such a cuntbag,” he muttered, more to himself than her, as he watched her clipidy-clip around the kitchen, preparing dinner for their family. The term was his latest epithet, a pet peeve that summed up her infuriating willfulness.
Jeanne glanced up, fixing him with a piercing stare. “Excuse me?” Her voice was even, but the raised eyebrow spoke volumes. He knew that look – it was the same one she gave him when he accidentally left the cap off the toothpaste or forgot to take out the trash.
“Nothing, Mommy. Just lost my train of thought,” Anthony replied, pasting on his usual cherubic grin as he sauntered over to “help” with the meal prep. His hands strayed, brushing against her hips, teasing the swell of her ass. Jeanne tensed, subtly moving out of reach.
As the evening wore on, Anthony’s agitation grew. The incessant clacking of Jeanne’s heels against the hardwood floor was like nails on a chalkboard. The scent of her perfume – a saccharine blend he’d once found appealing – now made his stomach churn. He couldn’t focus on the HGTV show they were watching, his mind consumed by visions of peeling off her prim, floral sundress to reveal the lush curves beneath.
When the commercials aired, Anthony seized the opportunity to make his move. He snaked an arm around Jeanne’s waist, pulling her close as he nuzzled her neck. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine.
Jeanne stiffened, her body as rigid as a board. “Anthony, we can’t – not now, not here,” she protested, her voice laced with a combination of panic and quiet desperation.
He ignored her, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind her ear. “I need you,” he panted, his hand wandering up her thigh, his fingers grazing the silk of her stocking. “Let me make you feel good, mommy.”
To his shock, Jeanne didn’t push him away. Instead, she let out a shaky sigh, her resolve crumbling like a sandcastle in the tide. “Fine,” she whispered, her eyes glazing over with a mix of fear and resignation. “But just this once, and don’t think this means anything.”
Anthony’s heart raced as he led her upstairs, his erection throbbing in his pants. As soon as they reached the bedroom, he yanked off his clothes, revealing his hard, aching cock. Jeanne’s gaze flickered over his naked form, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Anthony climbed onto the bed, padding over to where she sat, fully dressed, on the edge of the mattress. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered, his voice low and husky with desire.
Jeanne hesitated, her hands trembling as she reached for the zipper of her dress. With agonizing slowness, she peeled off the offending garment, revealing a lacy black bra and a matching thong that hugged her curves like a second skin.
Anthony’s mouth went dry as he drank in the sight of her, his cock twitching in anticipation. He reached out, tracing a finger along the edge of her bra, relishing the way her nipples pebbled beneath the soft fabric.
“Turn around,” he growled, his patience wearing thin. Jeanne obliged, presenting him with the delectable view of her ass, round and firm, clad in the delicate thong.
Anthony wasted no time, hooking his fingers into the waistband and tugging the scrap of lace down her legs. He paused to admire her glistening pussy, the pink folds already slick with arousal. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you, baby?” he purred, his thumb teasing her clit.
Jeanne bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan as he probed her entrance with a finger, painting her inner walls with her own juices. “Please, Anthony, I…I need more,” she breathed, her hips rolling in a desperate attempt to take him deeper.
With a feral growl, Anthony stepped out of his boxers and positioned himself behind Jeanne. He gripped his throbbing cock, rubbing the head against her slick folds, teasing her with the promise of release.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll forget your own name,” he vowed, his voice a low, menacing rumble.
And with that, he slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Jeanne cried out, her back arching as she struggled to accommodate his girth. Anthony set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against hers as he pistoned in and out of her quivering cunt.
Despite the ferocity of their coupling, Jeanne’s body responded eagerly, her walls clenching around him like a vice. Anthony could feel the telltale flutter of her climax building, and he redoubled his efforts, determined to push her over the edge.
“Yes, fuck, just like that!” Jeanne keened, her hands fisting in the sheets as she hurtled toward oblivion.
Anthony grunted, his own orgasm barreling down on him like a freight train. With a few more savage thrusts, he buried himself to the root and exploded, painting Jeanne’s insides with his hot, viscous seed.
As they both collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap, Anthony knew that this was only the beginning. He’d breached the dam, and now there was no turning back. Jeanne might still try to maintain her icy façade, but he could sense the shift in her, the way her body now craved his touch as much as his own did.
And he’d be damned if he let her retreat back into her fortress of frigidity. He’d conquer her cunt, body, and soul, until she was as greedy for his cock as he was for her sweet, willing flesh.
