Mother Can't Resist Son's Lust

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Mother's idea for breast reduction rubs son the wrong way
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I thought the news was good, but my son didn't feel that way. I'd let him on it during dinner, as we sat beside each other on the deck, taking in the view of the city below.

"You've seen how much of a strain they've been for me, so I think it'll just make things so much easier in the long run. You understand."

I'd told my son I was getting the breast reduction I'd wanted for so long, and suddenly he was regarding me as if I'd told him I was going to stop paying his tuition for college. His eyes were almost always kind, as blue as a tropical ocean and equally inviting, yet his anger could turn them dark in a heartbeat, as they were now — so much so that I had to pause for a moment and regroup.

"That it?" He asked me. "That all you have to say?"

"Well, yes," I said. "I don't think you realize how much of a constant hindrance they are."

I could feel them now, my embarrassing, heaving bosom overflowing from my sundress, hovering inches above the table top like massive watermelons.

"Robert says he'll do it free, if it's the money you're worried about. He's been so kind these last few months."

"If by 'kind' you mean he's wanted in your pants all that time."

"James — quit it."

As if my son's mood had affected the weather, the sun suddenly got lost in a cloud, and a gust picked up that pinned his shirt to his body. In that moment his carved pectorals became quite defined through the fabric, if not indecent, so prominent that I figured containing his tank of a chest must have been no different than the torture I went through with my breasts every day. I was sure the girls ogled at him just as the men did to me, and with that in mind, his lack of empathy grew frustrating.

"I'm done," James said, pushing his plate forward.

"Honey, I don't see what the big deal is. It won't affect you at all. And it's a quick surgery, I'll be in and out."

"It's not about me, or your health" he said stepping forward, picking up my plate along with his own. "It's this guy trying to buy his way into your panties. He's no better than all the rest of them, you realize that, right?"

"You just miss your father," I said under my breath, shaking my head. "I think that's all this is about."

He laughed. "Screw dad AND Robert. We're better off alone, if you ask me."

On that note, he went back inside. I'm not sure what he meant by that. He was only here for the summer before he went back to school, and so often I was alone. That was why I was so grateful for Robert. He'd approached me at a mutual friend's party, another surgeon that shared his office space, and we immediately hit it off. My son had been fine at one point with my seeing him, but with mention of this surgery, that all suddenly seemed to change.

I followed my son inside, and when I saw him doing the dishes I slipped away to the bathroom to freshen up. Even in my reflection, my breasts were all I could focus on. It was all anyone could focus on, it seemed. They'd started to grow in middle school, and by the time I graduated high school they were rather enormous, and even with their pillow like quality giving them a massive robustness, I'd been fine with them and all their added baggage (no pun intended) . . . up until recently. I'd noticed the very first signs of sag, my breasts straining at my already capsizing bras, and I made mention of it to Robert one night. I'd just turned thirty-five, and his offer to work on them coincided right with my finding them painful to carry around. Besides, I was fine with my other features — working out had left my backside firm and perky, and I'd been afforded the high cheekbones and full lips that all my friends squawked over when reading their gossip mags.

When I returned to the kitchen it was empty, and I found my son in the living room playing video games; he was splayed out on the couch, and his head was propped up on its arm. "There's you are," I said.

"Not right now," he said. He looked so darling when he was pouty. He'd recently started parting his hair like he was straight out of the fifties, a crisp pompadour that curled back and profiled his face into that of a gentleman's — yet right now he was shade too red, and his acting like a child brought out the maternal side in me.

"Now now, let mommy make it better," I said. I snuck in behind him, and he picked himself up just enough for me to swing my leg beneath him and hold his upper body up against my chest, my chin on his head. I stroked his shoulder like I used to do to calm him down, and rubbed his chest in a soothing manner.

"You going to tell me why you really got upset?" I asked.

He sighed. "You . . . look fine," he said. "I just don't get it."

I laughed a bit. "What's that suppose to mean, mister? You think I'm self-conscious?"

"No. It's just that this guy shouldn't be changing what's already perfect."

"Isn't that sweet," I said. I couldn't blame my son. His love for me — for my body — had been hardwired into him since he was an infant. He'd never wanted to let go of my breasts when he was nursing, and even when he was a toddler he'd try to sneak his way under my blouse or grab at my breasts through my shirt whenever he could.

"But it's not about my looks," I said. "They're painful, honey. It's for my health. Imagine trying to heave these things around everywhere."

He said nothing, and I thought I might've been distracting him from his game. I noticed that his head was squarely beneath my breasts, so much so that he'd propped them up to the point of their being on the brink of falling out of my dress. His body was so heavy, so strong, that I could feel myself pinned beneath his weight, and he must've been trying to relieve the pressure by repositioning his buttocks repeatedly, but it only managed to make my sundress slowly rise up.

"Did you ever think about if you have

more kids?" James said.

"Where's this coming from?" I asked.

"Well, I'd just hate the idea of them not having the same opportunity I had." He said this in an almost mournful voice, and right then "Game over" flashed on the television screen, and he directed his controller to turn the console off.

"The same opportunity? Did someone skip health class? I don't want any more kids – believe me, you're all the kid I need, James — but even if I did, my breasts would lactate still. If that's what you're worried about. We shouldn't even be talking about these sorts of things, honestly."

James sighed and put the controller down. He grabbed my revealed thigh with one meaty hand and gripped it. "It wouldn't be the same," he said, letting go intermittently, squeezing that same thigh on and off again, as if administering a massage of sorts. "As long as you realize that. It's the ultimate connection, mom. I'm telling you. Wanting those tits, that milk — it's what made us so close. I just wouldn't want any of my little siblings in the future to miss out on that."

He was so vulgar, so removed from our usual conversation, that I was at a loss for words. He yawned and pushed himself up an inch further, closing his eyes just as my left breast bounced out of my dress, so full that it nearly slapped James in the face, the nipple inches from his nose. His hand was still on my thigh, and his previous move had hiked my dress up all the way, my naked crotch now pinned to my son's prominent behind.

"This is how we used to sleep when dad first left, right?" he said, snuggling, turning, his eyelashes flickering as they made contact with my exposed breast before he turned back the other way.

"Yes, it is," I said trying to catch my breath.

"That's how it always should've stayed," he said. "Just you and me." He put his other hand into the air, as if to meet my own, and I extended it to him; he then placed our hands on his chest, slowly bringing them down to his abdomen, rollicking over his six pack as if they were hills.

"James, maybe we should get up—"

"Mom, come on, I'm sleepy. I need you. You always put me to sleep, didn't you? How 'bout once more for old time's sake."

"Yes, but — oh God — not like this."

I had to contain my gasp. He'd pulled my hand to his shorts, and I could feel the thick pipe of meat there, ever rising, and just then James turned and took my nipple into his mouth, nursing it slowly, and patiently, as if it might start lactating if only he took his time.

His lips suckled my breast, and the sensation was one I hadn't had for years, since he was a toddler, and I couldn't help but hold his head to my chest, encouraging him to continue.

"We shouldn't," I said, with little conviction. There was a loud popping sound as he disengaged from my breast. He quickly flipped himself so he was facing me, arms extended, just as he positioned himself when doing his morning push-ups, except now I had the pleasure of being beneath him.

"You know," he said, his face only inches from my own, "I had an internship lined up back at college, could've worked there straight through senior year and probably got a position when I graduated. I turned it down." His lips were lined up with mine, and he spoke in hushed tones. "And my buddies had a trip planned to head through Europe this summer, wanted me to come with them, said it would be the best time of our lives. I turned them down too. Now can you guess why?"

I was so lost in the moment I could barely utter a word, let alone a sentence. My freed breast, pulsing and engorged by James' suckling moments before, ached for him to return to it, and I felt his enormous pole of a penis tenting through his shorts, inches from my vulnerable slit. He leaned down and whispered. "I turned them all down 'cause I couldn't go so long without seeing you, mom. Your fucking body. Your ass —" he looked down at my breasts, eyes wild, — "those tits."

"Don't be... crass..." I moaned. His cock had escaped from his shorts and was nudging against my pussy, as if asking for an invitation. James carefully exposed my other breast and took both of them in his hands, playing with my massive orbs, cradling them, putting them together and suckling both nipples at once, sending me into a fit of moans.

"James, this is wrong," I said.

"What's wrong is you thinking you can get rid of these tits." He held them tightly, and I felt not pain but only pleasure. "There mine, mom. Mine to use." He squeezed my nipples, extending them to the breaking point and letting them go, flicked them a few times for good measure. "Always have been. I fed when I wanted to remember? And that hasn't changed. Not today. Not ever. And if you think you can do anything to them without my permission, you're wrong. Tell me their mine," he said.

I didn't have time to answer. He came forward and locked his lips to my own, one hand on my tit, the other cradling my head, clutching my hair, forcing me to him.

Something took over me. It was as if his cock found my hand, but I realized somehow, lost in the moment, I'd grabbed it, at least part of it, for its length was at least quadruple the size of my grip. "Fuck you're big," I said. I stroked it slowly as we continued our embrace, and as he leaned forward a length of pre-cum dispatched from its head and smeared across my pussy lips. My own juices had already leaked onto the couch, and my pussy ached to be filled.

"Do it," I said. "Fuck your mother."

Our eyes locked as he entered me, not needing to even guide himself in, as if he knew the path by heart, the path to where he'd come from. His cock was so thick I could feel my opening expand to its greatest limits, slick with my mess, and by the time he was to the hilt I was already gripping the back of the couch, my head arched back. This only brought my tits to full attention, and he ravenously stuffed one into his mouth and sucked greedily.

He began slow but couldn't contain himself. He pumped into me with no abandon, throttling my pussy, the sound of our shared sopping mess of juices filling the house with every thrust. He once again released my breast from his mouth and kissed me passionately, pulled up and looked me in the eyes. "Say they're my tits."

"They're yours."

"Not just while fuck you. They're always mine."

"Always," I said, gasping to contain a modicum of composure, my mouth agape in sheer pleasure.

He suddenly released the entirety of his dick from my pussy, and I looked down at the massive pole, the pulsating vein running down its length, the sheen from my cum, and I begged him to put it back in.

"Please, baby, I need it."

"You need my dick?"

"Yes!" I said, hoisting up my torso to meet it almost subconsciously, my body pleading for him to continue.

"Say it," he said.

"I need your fucking dick!"

He slapped my tit and grabbed a handful of it as he impaled me in one swift, forceful movement downward, and it triggered something within me, a tremor that consumed my whole body, and I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head as a massive orgasm overtook my very being. It seemed to go on for minutes, and at some point I could feel his dick growing within me, his strokes getting faster, and suddenly he buried himself to the hilt and let out an animalistic scream. His whole body seemed to flex, as if participating as he unloaded a giant load of baby batter into my pussy. He continued thrusting, each one more forceful than the last, pounding his load into my cervix, forcing every last drop as deep into me as he could possibly manage.

After a moment he collapsed, his deflating dick still in me, his head in the valley between my tits, his hands on both of them, as if they were made solely for him to hold and fondle.

"You're... incredible," I said, shaking my head, trying to catch my breath. "You'll make a girl very lucky one day."

My comment seemed to spur him from his momentary hibernation, for he looked up at me, and shook his head. "You're the only one for me. My fucking you makes you mine. Don't forget it."

"Oh, honey." I patted his head. He was so attached to me, that I found his comment flattering. "I love you so much, and we just shared something special, but you know that can't happen. I'm going to get old and fat, and I'll need someone to take care of me. That's why you need to understand my need for someone like Robert. Someone who can make it easier on me."

James had already gone back to nestling his head between my tits, his eyes closed, but I could hear his muffled voice. "Robert's never touching you again."

"Honey, you can't be so selfish. I still love having you around. You'll always be my baby boy."

He looked up again, his steely blue eyes kind, but hiding something devious, serious. "Do I need to make you understand that? That you and Robert are done?"

"Listen, honey—" I was interrupted by the growing specimen in my pussy, as my son's cock began to expand, began to fill me without his even moving. He eyes pierced mine with unabashed lust, and it was as if I was caught in a spell, unable to break eye contact even if I'd wanted to.

"You can be so stubborn, mom. That's why dad left. He couldn't control you. But I can."

In one fell swoop, he pulled out of me, his raging monster of an erection standing at attention before my eyes, dripping with his excess spunk.

"Up," he said. When I didn't respond, he grabbed my arms and turned me over onto my knees, the unplugging of my pussy and the sudden movement sending a spasm of splooge flowing onto the couch. He got behind me and collected my hair in his hand, pulling it back, arching my back. Without warning he plunged his cock back into my pussy, pounding into me with abandon, his hold on my hair unwavering, tightening.

"FUCK JAMES," I screamed, holding onto the couch for dear life.

"Who owns your pussy, mom?!"

"James—"

With his off-hand he leaned over and gripped my tit for good measure, kneading into it like fresh dough, pinching my nipple as if he wanted to rip it off.

"Who owns your pussy and your tits?!"

"YOU DO, JAMES. ONLY YOU. THEY'RE YOURS."

The tit he let roam free slapped wildly into the couch's arm with James' every thrust, and I realized then that never again would anyone touch my body but my son, that as long as he allowed me his cock, his sex, that I would be his.

"I'm gonna cum in you again," he said.

"Cum in me, honey."

"Yeah? You want this cum in your cunt, mom?"

"I need it, baby" I said. "Cum in me. Make me pregnant, honey, and I'll give you all the milk you want, just like when you were a baby. Unload in me!"

His massive, swollen balls steadily slapped against my ass, and I could feel their broiling heat, preparing to fill me once again. He let go of my hair and grabbed for my other breast, his hands clutching my engorged tit-meat, merely tools for him to grip, devices to find better leverage for reaching the farthest depths of my dripping cunt.

"Fucking fill me!" I screamed.

James roared, and I could feel each twitch of his cock as he unloaded burst after burst of cum into me, and it seemed to go on for minutes, buckets of cum. Finally he slowed. I turned and embraced him, bringing him to my chest, stroking his head. His semi-soft, elephant trunk of a cock relaxed on my thigh, and we both began to doze off.

"I can take college online, you know,," James muttered under his breath. "That way I can be here every day to make sure you're taken care of."

"That'd be nice, honey," I said. "Now go to sleep. You need your rest."

There was a moment of silence before James spoke again.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"What'd you decide about the surgery."

"Surgery? What surgery"

He peeked an eye open at me, and I winked at him in return; we both smiled, kissed one another, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

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AnonymousAnonymousabout 2 months ago

Absolutely love this series please please please keep publishing more for this specific series!!!!!!

muskyboymuskyboy12 months ago

This is one of my favorites, thanks! 5/5

AnonymousAnonymousabout 2 years ago

I remember reading.

There's a difference between knowing your shit and knowing You're Shit.

Same could be said for your writing "There mine, mom. Mine to use." "Tell me their mine"

AnonymousAnonymousover 2 years ago
If your over D cup get the surgery

I prefer B Cup and nothing over a C Cup. I prefer A Cup over D Cup. Anything over D Cup get breast reduction surgery it will save you back and change you life. A friend of mine did and she was finally very happy.

AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
Agree comeback

This makes my pussy wet Everytime I read it, more please

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