Don't call me Mom - Call me Charlotte!

Charlotte imagined her son was at his girlfriend's, enjoying a blow-job whilst her parents slept. Or, if he was really lucky, fucking the agile redhead on the kitchen worktops. She imagined them coupling in the pool of light from the open fridge. She closed her eyes.

She switched her music on and slid her mind into that dark fantasy where she was the slinky redhead. 
(Daniel was slathering her breasts with banana ice-cream. It melted as it met her hot body and dribbled down her, onto his tongue. Oh... his lips were soft and urgent.)

"Oh Daniel! Oh Daniel! Oh Daniel!"

Daniel hadn't gone to his girlfriend's. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He had heard someone moaning his name. It sounded like Emma when she was hot and horny; but he knew it could only be his mother.

He crept into the living room. 

She writhed on the leather two-seater, hips thrusting. She was gift-wrapped in damp white silken pyjamas. They clung to her feverish body, so drenched with sweat that her carnal figure was perceptible. Long legs to make you stare after; now thrown open. Her smooth stomach, slinky and aquirming against the silk. Juicy wild breasts, rollicking under her wet top. Her dark nipples striking beneath a pyjama top so soaked in perspiration it was as transparent and lingering as cling-film.
She unbuttoned her top and struggled out of it. She looked like one of the women on the Playboy channel. Daniel was eighteen and could appreciate a stunning woman - even if she had given birth to him. Clammy strands of dark hair fell across her face, her pouting lips. Her eyes were half-closed, and her long lashes flickered. A walkman was clipped to the tight waist of her pyjama bottoms and Daniel realised she must be listening to music. She ran her long fingers over her naked breasts and squeezed them, gasping urgently. 

His stiff penis was hard against the cotton of his boxer shorts. It was an exquisitely tight bulge. 
(I can't take my eyes off her. She's a wet wriggling goddess; a thirty-seven year old fuck machine.)
He liberated his thick throbbing dick.
(Oh, Mom.... I wish you could do this.)
He wanked while he watched her.

He imagined her pursing soft lips on the tip of his penis, her tongue quick and darting. Her long raven hair tickling his balls.
She wet her fingers with her tongue and explored her nipples. Her fingers orbited the dusky circles of her areolas. Her touch was intense. Her nipples grew like button mushrooms. She tilted her head back and stroked them with her thumbs. "Daniel.... That feels sooo good...." Her voice was throaty and vital.
Daniel's hand raced up and down the curved shaft of his penis. His purple head swelled and surged. He imagined stimulating her pussy with it. Her bucking and writhing beneath him.

Charlotte stuck a long finger in her belly-button and shivered. It was one of her most secret erogenous zones. She played with it, pressing her finger-tip against the sensitive spot, her other hand busy provoking a wave of thrills by skilful attention to her sighing breasts. She moaned and pressed her shoulders deep into the leather. She unwittingly showed Daniel how she wanted her world to be rocked.

Daniel staggered forward, needing to see this ravishing woman. Lips open. Her normally alabaster face hot and flushed. Her long kissable neck, her strong shoulders, dripping with perspiration.

She twisted her long legs together, sliding her bum along the leather couch. Her thighs rubbed, slippery with the juices now flowing from inside her, her knees trembling against each other. She swept a hand down, delving beneath the waist of her pyjamas. She pretended to resist, holding her legs tight closed, but pushed insistently, working one finger in, then another. She grunted. "Fuck me...." And her legs flew apart to accomodate both hands. One bare foot pressed against the carpet. The other leg hooked over the back of the sofa and her foot swung.

Her toes stroked Daniel's penis.

The shock of pleasure was potent, intense, overwhelming. But a profound fear of her opening her eyes and seeing him strangled his lust. He didn't ejaculate. His mother was a sexy vision, naked from the waist up, breasts bouncing, in the throes of passion. Pyjama bottoms clinging to her every curve from the waist down. Her hands ravaging her clitoris, bopping under her pyjamas. Her alluring features wild and ecstatic. "Oh god.... oh god.... oh god...."
Daniel couldn't move. His mother was oblivious, lost in feeling. Tenderly stoking herself to a climax. She took one hand away and breathed, slowly, waiting. Then she reached into a hip pocket of her pyjamas and slipped out a white vibrator. It buzzed as she took it into her body. "Uhhuunnnn uhhhh!"
He wrenched at his cock, working it, eager to come at the same time as her. He lurched closer, his dick beating against the sofa. Trembling at the erotic shamelessness of this electric woman. Sexually gratifying her body with sordid dreams....

(Her own son, hard and muscular, bending her over the armrest of this leather sofa, her legs apart, her peachy buttocks receiving an athletic violation. His hands grasping her breasts, anchoring him deep inside her. His lips kissing the hot nape of her neck.)

She spasmed, arcing her back, her legs twitching, her body shuddering. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck meeeee!" Daniel came suddenly. His mother orgasmed beneath him. His cock pulsed in his hands and shot a huge glot of semen through the air. It splattered her face and drenched her tits.
(Oh fuck!)

Charlotte fondled herself, still fiddling with her nipples, still rapturous. She rubbed the sticky man-juice all over her breasts, loving it. She pushed it down between her legs, adding it to the lubricating liquids deep in the cleft of her vagina. She moaned and bit her lower lip. Then she came to her senses. She hadn't been with a man.

She sat up, soft cries subsiding, still panting hard. Charlotte searched the room. It was empty. She licked the semen from her lips, knowing her son had come home and found her. Knowing that he had cum across her face and body. She felt a strange emotional turmoil of shame and anger, exhaustion and longing. She didn't bother to put her pyjama top back on. She went to the drinks cabinet, unsteady on her long legs, and opened a bottle of Bailey's.
She wondered if Daniel would come back downstairs.

Her stomach was churning, her mouth was dry. Her son's semen clung to her and she felt drunk on it. She didn't want to shower. She didn't want to dress. She wanted to make him cum again.

In the darkness of his room, Daniel was masturbating. The bed-sheets were bunched around his legs. His powerful chest rippled with the effort. He pretended his mother was draping her randy thirty-seven year old body round him.
He didn't hear his door open.

Charlotte stood in the darkness, her fingers tucked inside her. She bit her lip to keep from whispering his name. She strummed her clitoris soundlessly, absorbing every lurid sensation, rubbing her arse against the door frame. The wood there became slick and slippery as she spied on her son.
She watched him shuffling his glorious purple cock, needing both hands to stir himself. She admired his arms bulging as he worked, knew that they could lift her against this doorway. She would want her ankles locked behind, so her legs could pull him in deeper.

She listened to him panting degenerate things about her. "Oh... Charlotte... suck harder... you horny angel... Charlotte... bend over, you beautiful sexy piece of ass...." It inflamed her. Her heart throbbed in her chest while he came. He spurted, and kicked and twitched. His bedclothes fell to the floor. He was exposed in his clumsy passion.

Charlotte convulsed as her orgasm wrenched through her. It was the second time tonight she had been shaken by the thought of her son coming in her body. Her arm flung outwards and her palm hit a light switch. There she stood, sillhouetted in the doorway. She saw the horror on Daniel's face, then the hot sexual longing. She knew how her semi-naked outline must look to any man. Her stunning contours, hard and ready for him. She arced her back against the door frame and pushed her breasts out.

He got up off the bed and stood before her, close enough for them to touch. The head of his penis nuzzled stickily against her taut belly. They were both trembling. Charlotte pounced fearlessly. She pushed her dark hair behind her ear and raised one angular eyebrow. She suddenly looked different, a girl he might meet in a club, and Daniel knew she was seducing him. "You're naked," she whispered breathlessly. "Would you like to slip into something more comfortable - like me?"
She was a beautiful Elf-queen, dripping with sexy mischief. A terrible Vulcan bitch in heat. Anything but his own mother asking him to fuck her brains out. He stared.

She shook her breasts at him.
That was it. He grabbed her and she grabbed him. There was no talking; just the fluttering cries and encouraging grunts between soft kisses. It seemed like hours they were kissing, lost in a warm smooth sliding clinch. Their wordless tongues wrestled. Neither of them closed their eyes. She had beautiful brown eyes, deep and brimming with tears of passion. She raised one of her legs and draped it around him. He held her long lovely thigh and moved inwards, always inwards. It was the first time she opened her legs to him, allowing him within thrusting distance of her slick warm vagina. She lifted her head and panted at the top of the door frame as he fissed his way down her neck. She had never felt this raunchy. Or this desired. His hands stole down her curved back and inside her pyjama bottoms, fondling her buttocks. She presented her breasts to his lips, and pushed his head down. He took one tip into his mouth, drawing it in, lathering it with his drool, circling and pushing with his tongue, driving Charlotte to frenzy. He suckled her. She began to shuffle his cock up and down against her leg. He took her tit out from between his lips and stared into her brown eyes. 

"Unwrap me," she begged. "Please."
He pulled her from her pyjama bottoms, lifting her as her legs curled around him. He laid his mother down on the bed and she squealed as he pushed his cock into her belly-button.
"Daniel! I love that!"

She came right then, wriggling beneath him. He let the spasms of lust ravish her, then pushed between her legs. His cock slid into her easily. Her nails dug into his back as she lifted her hips, no longer caring who he was. She stroked his shining athletic body. Her legs were wide, her toes gripping the matress. She put a finger up his anus.
"Oh mother!"
"Call me Charlotte, you mother-fucker!"

It was a long sweaty night. Sometimes he was on her. Sometimes she sat astride him, her long dark hair clammy on her breasts, her breasts bouncing as she pushed herself down onto his thick penis. 

They fell asleep, inside the tight embrace of the other. Each slight movement caused a powerful ecstacy. They half-woke many times; made love again. Her legs wound around him. His lips sucking at her firm heaving breasts. His hand cupping her bottom. Still inside her body. Connected; in flagrant syzergy.