Jeanne Catherine LaMonica stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, admiring the lush, mature curves that still turned heads even in her early sixties. Her thick blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, framing a face that had only grown more seductive with age—full lips, smoky eyes, and that knowing smile of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. Her heavy tits strained against the thin silk robe she wore, nipples already stiff with anticipation. Below, her wide hips and plump ass gave way to the thick, juicy thighs that had always driven her son Anthony wild. She ran a hand down over her belly to the neatly trimmed patch of blonde hair above her swollen cunt lips, already slick with need.
Twelve fucking days. That was how long her baby boy Anthony had been gone in Amsterdam, chasing whatever meaningless vacation thrills a man in his forties thought he needed. Jeanne’s incest-loving cunt had been aching the entire time. No one filled her like her own son. No one knew how to pound Mommy’s greedy cunt the way Anthony did—deep, relentless, claiming every incestuous inch of her as his personal fucktoy.
She needed to rock his world when he came home.
Jeanne had spent the last few days planning the perfect surprise. She’d bought new lingerie that barely contained her voluptuous body: a sheer black lace bodysuit that hugged her massive tits and left her dripping cunt completely exposed. She’d shaved and lotioned every curve until her skin glowed. She’d even practiced her “welcome home” pose in the mirror—legs spread wide on the edge of his bed, fingers lazily circling her swollen clit while she moaned his name.
But that wasn’t enough. She wanted filthier. She wanted him to walk through the door and immediately smell how desperately Mommy’s incest cunt had missed him.
On the morning of his return, Jeanne executed her plan perfectly. She slipped into Anthony’s bedroom while he was still in the air, lighting a few scented candles that filled the room with a warm, musky vanilla. She stripped completely naked, her big tits swaying heavily as she climbed onto his king-sized bed. Then she lay back, propped herself up on pillows, and spread her thick thighs as wide as they would go.
Her cunt was already soaked. Twelve days without her son’s cock had left her incest pussy puffy, slick, and throbbing. She reached down and parted her plump outer lips with two fingers, exposing the glistening pink inside. A thick string of her creamy arousal stretched and broke as she played with herself, imagining Anthony’s face buried between her legs.
“Mmm, that’s it, baby,” she whispered to the empty room. “Mommy’s cunt is so fucking wet for you. Come home and fuck Mommy’s incest pussy like you own it.”
She edged herself for hours, bringing her fingers to her mouth to taste her own juices, then sliding them back into her hungry cunt. She wanted to be dripping by the time he walked in. She wanted her son to see exactly how depraved his mother had become without his cock.
When she finally heard the front door open downstairs, her heart raced with filthy excitement. She stayed exactly where she was—naked, legs splayed obscenely wide, two fingers buried knuckle-deep in her sopping incest cunt.
“Anthony?” she called out in that sweet, husky voice she reserved only for him. “Baby boy? Mommy’s waiting for you in your room. Come see what twelve days without your cock did to Mommy’s cunt.”
She heard his footsteps on the stairs, then the bedroom door creaking open.
Anthony froze in the doorway, suitcase still in hand, eyes widening at the sight of his gorgeous 60-year-old mother spread out on his bed like a whore in heat. Jeanne’s blonde hair fanned across the pillows, her massive tits heaving with every breath, and between her spread thighs her cunt glistened obscenely—lips puffy and parted, clit swollen, a steady trickle of creamy incest juice leaking down toward her tight asshole.
“Welcome home, my sweet boy,” Jeanne purred, slowly fucking herself with her fingers while she looked him dead in the eye. “Mommy’s incest cunt missed you so much. Twelve days is way too long to go without my baby boy’s cock stretching me open. Look how fucking wet I am for you.”
She pulled her fingers out with a wet squelch and spread her cunt lips wide, showing him every pink, dripping inch.
“Come here, Anthony. Mommy needs you to wreck this incest pussy right now. I’ve been planning this surprise for days—keeping my cunt nice and juicy just for my son. I want you to bury your face in Mommy’s cunt first. Taste how much I’ve been aching for you. Then I want you to shove that thick cock balls-deep into the same hole that pushed you out and fuck me until I scream.”
Anthony dropped his suitcase. His pants were already tenting hard as he stalked toward the bed, eyes locked on his mother’s shamelessly displayed cunt.
Jeanne smiled like the filthy incest queen she was, spreading her legs even wider.
“That’s my good boy. Come feed Mommy’s starving cunt. It’s been twelve long days, and this incest pussy is never going to let you leave for that long again.”
She reached down and held her cunt open invitingly as he climbed between her thighs.
“Welcome home, baby. Now ruin Mommy’s cunt like only you can.”