Show Your Tits, Show Your Tits Ch. 02a

"Would I hurt my sexy mother?"

No, he wouldn't. My son loved me, he'd do anything for me, as I would for him. Yes, I'd give him my asshole, give it to him with my husband and his friends mere feet away. Using the muscles I had spent so many hours in the gym perfecting, I clamped down on his fingers, moaning in growing lust.

Jacob brought a hand to my clit, rubbed it in a tight circle, catalyzing the wicked sensations flowing through me. A third finger entered my asshole; the fingers on my clit grew more insistent. I imagined what the people in the yard would think if they looked up and saw us: hard-bodied mother, naked, a sex-toy for her fully clothed son. They'd call us perverts, but how many of the women, in their hearts, would envy me my perfect lover.

His fingers kept moving; my nerve endings crackled, the discomfort receding into memory. An orgasm was building inside me. I closed my eyes, concentrated on my clit, on my asshole, squealed in delight. I was a sexual animal, drenched in libidinous pleasure, celebrating my body without reference to rules or mores.

I squeezed my breasts, twisted the nipples, adding that pain/pleasure to the cauldron between my legs and the fingers twisting in my asshole. Jacob rolled my clit against my body; a fire burned through my mind. My legs wobbled. I placed my hands on the window and writhing moaning grinding, came. I slumped forward, my face pressed to the glass. Juice ran down my thighs.

Several fireworks exploded above a nearby yard. If anyone had looked up, they'd have seen me. At the thought my nipples tightened, there was a throbbing deep within my sex.

"Take me Jacob, take me."

Jacob kicked off his shorts. I reached around to place his rock-hard erection at the opening of my well-lubed ass.

"Now son, take me."

He bucked the head inside me with a short thrust. I whimpered, told him it hurt, that I wanted more. He stroked his hands along my body, told me he'd stop if I wanted him to. The pain began to subside. I nodded and another inch was pushed into me. I shuddered: pain came, diminished, drained away.

Inch-by-inch he filled my most intimate part. When his balls reached my ass I turned, bit his lip, kissed him, pushed my tongue into his mouth. His strong hands kneaded my tits. He flexed his cock inside me; my cunt tingled.

A ball of light filled the backyard. Pressed against the window like this, when the fireworks went off I'd be visible.

To be found out, exposed.

I swallowed, whispered, "Be gentle," and pushed back. He started sliding his cock in and out of me, each thrust a little harder, a little deeper. My body was his.

He ran his knowing hands over my skin, sang my praises, told me how beautiful I was, how much he loved me. What had been deviant and unnatural morphed into the perfect, the divine.

The pain continued, but now it focused, intensified the joy. My son moved more rapidly, each stroke bottoming out deep in my ass. I moaned, squeezed my rectal muscles, whimpered, "It feels so good."

I watched and heard the fireworks explode, watched and heard the crowd in the back yard. I was something they would never understand, a licentious dirty son-fucking mother. And the dirtier I felt, the higher I flew.

I felt sorry for them, they'd never know this kind of incestuous delight.

My son was grunting, his fuck-rhythm rapid and hard. I knew that sound, those motions, his climax was approaching. I flexed the muscles of my ass, clamped down on his cock, narrowing the chute, milking his dick. I begged him to dump his seed inside me, told him I was his whore, his slut, his cunt, his whatever-he-wanted.

He took hold of my hips, pulled me into him. I howled, begged him to use my body, to fill my asshole.

He moved up on his toes, drove his cock deeper into my asshole, flattened me on the window, hollered my name, came. Pinned to the window, I flexed the well-developed muscles of my rump, drawing spurt after spurt of white hot cum. His cum sloshed about inside me as his tool softened and shrunk. Finally, I turned, feeling his half-hard dick slide from my butt, wrapped my arms around him, told him he was wonderful, that I loved him. He said I was beautiful, that I'd made all his dreams come true.

I reached behind, caught some of his cum dripping from my asshole, licked it off my finger.

"From now on honey, the backdoor is open for business."

My hands on the side of his face, I brought his lips to mine. His tongue entered my mouth; more drops of cum slithered out my ass. When the kiss ended he dropped to his knees and licked me, asshole to clit. I leaned against the window and stroked his hair. His tongue pushed inside my pussy, slurping down the cream bubbling from within. I placed a hand on the back of his head and ground my sex on his face. He flicked my clit with his talented tongue; I squealed, took hold of my breasts, rolled my nipples between my fingers, cried out. I bucked against him, reached down, placed an open hand on the back of his head, held him in place.

I took a long whiff, I could smell my own arousal. Hopefully, it would dissipate before Betty went to bed.

Then I heard it, footsteps coming down the hall, towards the bed room.

I stated to push Jacob away, but then heard Betty's voice yelling from downstairs, "Jeffrey, the upstairs bathroom is the other way, you turned in the wrong direction."

As the steps receded Jacob slipped a finger into my ass, wriggled it, and munched on my sex with single-minded intensity. One hand still on his head, I used the other to bring my breast to my mouth and licked, then bit, the nipple. As the fireworks outside concluded in a grand finale of fiery explosions, so did I, howling my delight as I came on my son's face, then again, then again. Finally I had to push him away; my cunt had reached its limits, for the moment far to sensitive to touch.

* * * *

As I put my clothes back on I watched Betty chatting with my husband. Was she finally showing some romantic interest in him? Then my son, re-joining the party, approached his father to say hello. As they talked I could have sworn Betty glanced up at me.

* * * *

The next day Betty called, said she was shopping downtown, asked me to lunch.

We exchanged pleasantries. She was neither hostile or angry, I'd feared both. Instead she started a story. I listened, asked an occasional question.

"My parents adored each other, although she was as much mother as wife. Dad was a sweet man, amiable, well-liked, but he couldn't take care of himself; he didn't know how to operate a toaster. Mom looked after all his needs. It became my norm. My friend's moms didn't act that way, I just figured they were mean.

"Mom passed when I was twelve. Dad was lost, didn't know what to do. I slipped into her role, took care of him. He was never particularly good with the ladies, Mom was his high school sweetheart, I don't think they ever dated anyone besides each other. Some of the neighborhood women made plays for him, but Dad didn't understand, he didn't know how to flirt. And if something even hinted at getting started, I'd squelch it; Daddy was mine.

"When I turned eighteen we became lovers. He wasn't that demanding. I wanted it more than he did. We did it once or twice a week, at night, lights off, him on top.

"When he passed I married George. Like Daddy, he was older, well-liked, amiable, and he needed someone to take care of him.

"I've been wondering why you've been pushing me at your husband. You're right, Bruce is the type of man I'm attracted to, but he's also not the kind of man to cheat. And then last night I saw why, I saw you and Jacob, it clearly was not your first time and not the kind of sex I suspect Bruce brings to the marriage.

"Don't worry, I kept my eye on everyone. No one else saw.

"Bruce said that your son is going to college in St. Louis. My guess is that you're going with him, but you don't want to abandon Bruce, you want someone else to take care of him, you're hoping it would me."

I felt ashamed. Betty made it sound like I was playing God, but not particularly well.

Betty took my hand in hers. "I'm sorry dear, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm in no position to judge you, after all I was my father's lover."

I said, "No, its not that. At first with Jacob, I had doubts, it was against all the rules, but now I'm certain, he and I should be together. No, its just that I hadn't thought about it, but I've been a scheming bitch, trying to manipulate you and Bruce. I apologize."

"Accepted. But there is no reason to apologize. You're right, Bruce is what I want in a husband and while I may look and act sweet, I tend to get what I want. He'll be mine."

* * * *

In August I told Bruce the Department of Transportation was transferring me to its St. Louis office and that Jacob and I would rent a condominium together while I figured out the lay of the land.

Occasionally, and ever less frequently, I came home on the weekends. Bruce, always involved with the gang, never made the trip to St. Louis and I didn't encourage him. We had only one bed. On my last trip Bruce asked for a divorce, said we'd grown apart. I feigned surprise (Betty had let me know it was coming), but did not make a scene, acknowledging that I'd also felt a growing distance between us.

That night he and Betty became lovers.