My pulse hammers so hard in my brain that I can’t think straight. My mom saunters over to me, her breasts jiggling enticingly, her hips sashaying back and forth with each catlike stride. I want to tell her that this isn’t funny, that it’s not right to tease her son like this, but my mouth won’t work right, only groaning uselessly as she sinks to her knees before me.
No girl has ever looked at me the way my mom is looking at me right now. Like she wants to consume me—to devour my cock and cum with her plump, painted lips. When she rests her warm hand on my bare knee, I suddenly realize that she’s not joking or teasing me, and that the pills have definitely altered her somehow.
“Mom, I think the drugs have kicked in,” I bite out.
My voice is low and hoarse, like I’ve been kicked in the throat. I want to push her away, but at the same time, I want her to keep touching me. God, I’m such a fucking pervert. I’m definitely going to go to hell if I don’t stop this.
But no one has ever touched me before and when her hand slides up-up-up and under the leg of my shorts I freeze in place, allowing her soft fingers to explore my inner thigh, separated from my skin only by the thin material of my boxers.
“Mom?” I gasp.
“Let me take care of that for you,” she purrs, her blue eyes wide and glazed with lust—with mindlessness.
“Oh,” I groan, just as she pushes her hand in the hole of my boxers and brushes against my erection.
A frisson of pleasure shoots through me, pre-cum dribbling all down my leg as hot skin touches skin.
“Please,” I whine, not sure if I mean ‘please stop’ or ‘please keep going’.
It doesn’t matter, because she grips my boner firmly, stroking me before I can decide either way. I guess no decision is decision enough, my mind taunts me as my eyes flutter closed. I don’t move as she pumps me with one hand slowly, her other hand reaching out to undo my shorts.
“I want to make you feel good, son.”
Oh fuck, this is so wrong. But I’m frozen in place as she finishes opening my fly and then pushes my throbbing cock through the hole of my boxers. If I don’t watch it doesn’t count, I tell myself. I feel her large breasts press against my legs as she leans forward and against me, hear the sound of the fabric of her bra brush my shorts.
An eternity seems to stretch out in the one second it takes for her to position us, but then her hot, wet mouth collides with my cockhead and I bite back a moan.
“You’re such a big boy,” she croons, kissing me eagerly. “And look at how much you’re dripping….”
I nearly lose it from just hearing her low sultry words. No woman has ever touched me like this before and only in my dreams have hot babes whispered such dirty things to me. But my mom shouldn’t be hot to me, right? I shouldn’t feel all hot and trembly from her sweet caress. I shouldn’t be letting this happen.
“Relax and let me pleasure you,” she whispers.
Stars explode behind my eyes as she pulls my cockhead into her mouth, sucking and tonguing the mushroomed tip with an expert precision. Part of me wonders how many times she’s done this before, but part of me doesn’t care. All that matters is that it’s happening to me right now, and it feels absolutely fucking amazing.
I stare at her face but her eyes are now closed in concentration, her cheeks hollowing as she pulls me all the way in. I’m not going to last long, I realize distantly. A tight coil of pleasure is drawing my balls up and making all of my muscles twitch. It feels like I’m floating. I want it to stop. I want it to never stop.
My toes curl tight in my shoes as she sucks and slurps, noisy wet sounds filling the room. The ceiling swims overhead as I lean my head back and gasp. My mom is sucking me down like she’s made for it—sucking the very soul from my body. If I’d known that her mouth could do such blissfully amazing things like this, I probably wouldn’t have needed the flatly colored pictures in my magazines; I would have spent all that time jerking off to her.
She gags as my hips buck and I drive my cock into the back of her throat, but she doesn’t pull away. I look down at her, groaning, and her blue eyes flutter open and lock onto mine. A jolt of ecstasy pierces through me, and I feel just as mindless as her wide, dilated gaze.
Everything goes white, and I jerk violently as my cock spasms inside her tight, constricting throat, shooting thick gushes of cum down into her belly.
“Mmm,” she hums, like it’s the most delicious thing ever, and the vibration on my dick makes the spasms grow even harder, until I’m nothing more but white-space and throbbing pleasure.
She keeps sucking gently as a golden afterglow slowly descends upon me. I’ve just cum down my own mother’s throat and all I can think about is the floaty bliss of pure relief. It takes a few moments before my body stops trembling, and then she pulls away with a slick-wet sound, her lips swollen from her efforts.
“Did I please you?”
I grunt, willing my heart to stop thundering inside my chest. I’ve never had such an intense orgasm in all my life, but guilt is starting to set in. What the hell did we just do? What the hell am I supposed to say to her now? What the hell is supposed to happen next?
She kisses my knee and pets my cock lovingly. “Do you want me to keep going?”
“No,” I mumble, gently pushing her hands away so that I can push my softening cock back into my boxers and redo up my fly. “That was . . . uh….”
I have no idea what to say. Is she going to hate me when the drugs wear off? I want to get away from this situation. I want to go take a long shower and then hide out in my room for the next million years.
“I love you, Alex,” my mom whispers, and when our eyes lock again I see a flicker of real concern there, of real warmth.
“I love you, too, mom,” I stammer.
I have no idea where we’ll go from here, but I know that my mom will forgive me—and that she loves me unconditionally—even if it’s my fault for everything. Maybe we’ll never speak of it again and it’ll just be a secret we share until the end of our days. Maybe it’s not really such a big deal, after all.
After I shower and tuck myself in—having told my mom that I’m tired and need some space—I lie in bed and stare up at nothing, thinking: God that was wonderful . . . would it be so wrong if it happened again?
It probably would be, but if she’s still mind-altered in the morning, I don’t think I’ll be able to resist the temptation. I still have one more pill, too—but I’m not sure I could go as far as drugging her again. Or could I? Sleep pulls me under before I can worry about it for too long, and my dreams are full of my beautiful mother—her hair a golden halo around her head, her angelic blue eyes gazing at me with an endless and patient love.