Close Knit: The Climax

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       “I might rent some movies tonight. Anything you’re interested in seeing?” Mom asked as I appeared in the kitchen door way, flipping through a gossip magazine. She appeared to be only half-interested in its pages. She sat in the living room, shifting slightly in her place on the loveseat.        “Probably anything with Adam Sandler in it,” I replied, drying my hands with a hand towel—I had been in the middle of washing dishes. Leaning against the door frame, I draped the towel over my shoulder and folded my arms.       Golden late-morning sunlight spilled through drawn windows, Mom basking in its warmth, her fiery mane blazing. She dressed simply, a soft green blouse and a pair of denim jeans, her pretty feet slipped into a pair of green heels. It was simply amazing how she could make something so simple look so damn . . . sexy. Especially the way her jeans fit around her voluptuous legs, as if they were painted on, and like most of her blouses, this one had revealed her milky, plentiful cleavage.       “You know, I think I could go for a Sandler movie myself,” she nodded approvingly, a slow smile creasing her lips. She was placid, serene, like she usually was on a Saturday, and it bothered the living hell out of me.        I couldn’t understand how she did it—act so casual, so natural. As if just last week she had not slipped into my bedroom while I obliviously stroked myself to videos of her when she was involved in the adult industry. As if she hadn’t taken my cock into her hot, cock-starved mouth, felt it slide easily between her breasts, felt my cum splash against her creamy skin—tits and neck and chin. As if our little venture had been nothing more than a dream, a gratifyingly vivid dream.       She caught me staring, her calm expression Gölbaşı escort bayan melting into a quizzical mask. She closed her magazine on her lap, the motion strangely sensual.  The concern was clear in her eyes, and I could sense the fear bleeding through her peaceful air, forming around her like an oppressive rain cloud. I then realized that her serenity was counterfeit, her casualness put on. She must have been trying to keep things normal between us since our little escapade. I couldn’t blame her.       Might be why we haven’t done anything since then, I thought. Or maybe it was a dream, and I’m just going out of my fucking mind!       “What’s wrong, hun?” She asked carefully, trying to sound as casual as possible, failed.       I padded bare feet into the living room, and plopped beside her on the loveseat. She smelled wonderfully—vanilla and honey—and my fingers ached to touch her skin, to explore every inch of it, inside and out. I felt my cock grow good and stiff, strangled behind my jeans and boxer briefs. I took a deep breath.       “Of course,” I said, finally, “you know that I watch your videos online sometimes—well, all the time.” She paused, but then nodded hesitantly, her expression uncertain.       I continued. “And, well, the thing we did last week . . .” I trailed off, almost unconscious of my hand smoothing around her denim-clad thigh. She tensed, sucking in a quick breath, but then relaxed, her copious chest falling slowly. “I really want to do it again, and obviously you do, too.”       I noticed her mouth perk up slightly at the corners, an easy smile, as if she’d been waiting for me to say something—anything, to let her know that she wasn’t a terrible mother, that what Escort Keçiören we had done the previous week was not a mistake.       And she was on me within a blink’s time, her tongue up against my neck and around my ear, her right hand cupped around my aching bulge. Her touch flushed my skin with heat, coating my every nerve with electricity. She had breached my jeans, unbuttoned and unzipped, and now my cock was in her tiny hands, her fingers barely reaching around my throbbing shaft.       “Good,” she whispered, her breath hot against my skin, sending waves of goose flesh through my body. “Because I want you,” she continued, “and I want this big . . . fucking . . . cock.” Her grip grew firm, and I felt my cock twitch, threatening to erupt. She pressed smiling lips against the curve of my neck, and I exhaled a silent breath.       She’d easily slipped into porn star mode.       Mom rose with liquid motion onto her heels, standing before me like a supervillainess with her hip cocked to one side, her hands creeping toward the hem of her blouse. Slowly, she began lifting her top, revealing her soft tummy, her green mesh and lace bra that seemed to struggle to contain her monstrous breasts—36G according to one of her fansites. Letting her blouse fall from her delicate fingers, her jeans were next, and she turned and bent over as she slowly peeled them from around her ass—plump and shapely—my eyes catching a glimpse of her bare slit. Christ, she wore no panties, the fact resulting abuse for my lower lip, my teeth pressing anxiously into it. A moment later, she was stepping out of her jeans, turning as she reached to undo her bra.       She stalked toward me, her steps slow and sultry, determined. She stepped Kızılay escort over her bra once it fell from her shoulders, her full, pendulous breasts exposed, hard pink nipples seeming to beckon his fingers, his mouth. She was absolutely gorgeous, stunning in her rubenesque glory. She reminded me of a Goddess, caught in late-morning sunshine.       I didn’t take long for me to get undressed as she approached, my clothes piled messily on the cushion beside me. My cock twitched something fierce, its ripe and engorged head dripping precum.       “Mmmm,” she uttered as she kneeled before my seated form, as if she’d been offered a feast. “Look at that big fucking cock . . . it can’t wait to get inside of mommy’s pussy, huh?” She teased, inching closer between my legs, her heavy breasts brushing against my inner thighs. It was a good thing I wasn’t standing.       “Can’t fuckin’ wait,” I answered, voice husky, my chest tight with anticipation.       Singly, her fingers wrapped around my cock as best they could. I could feel my shaft pulsing against her hand.       “Got this cock good and hard for mommy,” her tongue slid along the underside of my dick, good and slow, as if savoring a lollipop. I squirmed slightly beneath her touch, my fingers anxiously raking against my thighs. “Mmm, my baby’s cock is tasty,” she said before she licked me again, smoothing her tongue up along my length, swallowing me whole as she came back down. Hands free.       “Fuck!” I sucked in a hissing breath, both of my hands finding themselves tangled in her flaming-red hair. I watched her, witnessing every inch of my cock vanishing behind her cock-hungry lips, her needy moans and soft slurps becoming music to my ears.       “Mhm . . .” I moaned. Her head bobbed a steady rhythm, and I tied her hair up in my palm, not wanting to obscure my perfect view. “Fuck yes,” I said quietly, rearing my head back, gazing up into the ceiling. “Fuck yes, suck my cock. Suck your son’s big fucking cock. Gobble it right up.”       My words rewarded me with a long, steamy moan around my cock.

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