A Brother's Dilemma

With a little cry he plunged his rampant cock into her, hearing the explosive grunt of her breath as she absorbed its full length; and he seized her hips and began to saw into her with long, slick strokes though the pelvic girdle and into that delicious, thrumming body. He understood that up to now it had been his time, but now it was hers. This was her favourite position, crouched like a little animal being taken, with tight fists of pleasure clutching the sheets and a slack expression on her face as she was fucked. This was her time; and so he gritted his teeth to hold back, to make it as good as he possibly could - to ignore the delicious odour of wet cunt, and the pungent scent of semen on her skin. To disregard the feel of her tight little tube enveloping him, clutching like a voracious mouth, and to forget the whimpers and groans as the tide of her pleasure grew.

At last Ellie's climax burst upon her like a Tsunami and she shrieked, her head thrashing from side to side and her body twitching spasmodically. It went on and on, each convulsion of her body seemingly better than the last. Her cunt clamped around him like a vice and he closed his eyes, desperately trying to think of other things. But it was no good for his own orgasm was upon him, and with a hoarse cry he unleashed the waiting load with a long, quivering jet that burst into the wriggling little body beneath him.

Ellie felt its heat and she screamed - a primeval, quivering cry that ended with a groan of utter delight. She felt a second jet enter her and then a third, and she imagined his sperm spraying into the quivering tube of her cunt to coat it in a film of clinging white. She felt helpless, plundered like a rag doll, and deep inside she experienced a sudden ache as his cock battered her cervix, basting it with living seed.

And for a long time afterwards they did not move, delighting in the twitching of his cock as it released the final dribbles of his sperm, and the pulsing suck of her cunt as she drew it into her body. Next door a stifled giggle announced that Ellie's roommate was there, having her own fun.

At length Ellie eased forward and his shaft fell free. She drew him to her and they lay together quietly.

'Wow!' she said at last. 'You're a natural. Can you give me a minute? I just need to catch my breath and have a drink.' She regarded him with bold eyes. 'Can you stay the night?'

Tom nodded, his mind in turmoil. He had thought his life was set out, but the world had suddenly tilted and that all he had counted as important had just been swept away.

*

Mum's eyes were like organ stops as she stared at me across the table. 'Jesus, Tom!' she said at last. 'I didn't expect that!'

'You asked me to tell you.'

'Yes, but I wasn't expecting it in living colour...bloody hell!'

'Did I offend you?'

She shook her head. 'No – it's just that we've never talked like that before.' Even in the dim light I could see a flush of high colour in her cheeks, and the eyes that regarded me wore an expression I'd never seen before.

'So you've broken up with Ellie?' She saw me nod in agreement. 'Um - so who do you -' the unfinished words lay on the table between us: who do you get your sex from now?

'Nobody. I just have to manage myself until someone else comes along.'

'Me too.' She laughed, a little self-effacing chuckle, and glanced around the room as if to check who was within hearing before leaning over the table towards me. 'When I got married I thought sex would be on tap whenever I wanted it, but it's surprising how quickly things change. I'm not embarrassing you, am I?'

'Not a bit. You're still young and beautiful, Mum – why shouldn't you enjoy it?'

'I do – or at least I did, but I think your Dad has other things on his mind now. I think -' she stopped suddenly and I could see the look in her eyes, wondering if she'd gone too far already, wanting to say more but worried about pushing too far. For the first time, I saw that she was nervous.

'You think what, Mum?' I prompted gently.

'Well – you know...I think I'm like you, Tom, all alone with nobody to go with. But I don't suppose you want to know all about my sex life, do you.'

Her tone was flat. There was no inflection on the last two words to make it a question, but I was sure it was. I suddenly remembered Ash's words all those weeks ago ...the only thing stopping her is the fear you'd be disgusted. She needed reassurance and she'd found a way to ask, to see if I was willing to play. Do you want to know about my sex life? Just say yes and the sky's the limit.

I don't know how long I sat there looking at my mother...a few seconds perhaps, although it seemed much longer. Her face was more familiar than any other on this earth. She'd carried me in her body, pushed me into the world from between those slim, golden thighs; nurtured and guided me for nineteen years, laughed and cried and rejoiced in my journey from a mewling infant to a young man. And though all those years I'd seen her through the prism of a child regarding his mother.

And now she sat there with pouting lips and nipples stiff enough to poke holes in her dress, and the big grey eyes filled with an expression of – what? Hope? Anticipation? A desperate plea not to spend another night in an empty bed? And suddenly I understood that the old prism was shattered, and I was free to see her as something else. I'd gone from son to confidante and, if I was willing, could go to something far beyond. The question was, did I want that?

It took me a nanosecond to figure it out and I reached across the table and took her hand. 'If it's part of you, of course I do,' I said, 'and we can do whatever you want.'

*

We had one of those taxi drivers who wanted to chatter, so we didn't share any more thoughts on the way home – but we didn't need to. The minute we sat down her hand stole into mine and I could almost feel the sexual energy crackling through her skin. It was extraordinary, because neither of us knew quite what was going to happen, but both understood something would.

We practically ran down the driveway and into the house, slamming the door before turning to each other. The front room was just as we had left it: the breakfast things ready for the morning; the light from the table lamp casting the familiar soft shadows and the faces in the picture frames just as they had always been. But it wasn't the same – not by a baker's mile. We'd gone out as mother and son and returned as something different, and the atmosphere zinged with anticipation.

She didn't say a word. She just gave me a sizzling look and then put her mouth over mine and kissed me – a long, slow smoochy kiss like the one I'd given her earlier, but ten times longer and better. I'd often admired Mum's lips – they were full and soft and a perfect shape, but I'd never imagined until today what they would feel like planted on mine like that: and the answer was, fucking fantastic. And it was only to get better as she opened them just a little and penetrated me with her tongue.

I don't know how long we stood there kissing, but it was a long time. She had a thing with her lips – first the soft press of them on mine, and then a little nibble using the soft flesh of her underlip to tease mine; and then her tongue, slipping into my mouth to find my own. Little feather touches right on the tip; tingling, electric, slippery and warm and sweet. And every now and again she'd mash her lips harder on mine and try suck the tonsils just about right out of my mouth, and I'd do the same to her. It was perfect.

I'd pretty much kept my hands to myself up to then but as the temperature rose I slid them to her breasts and checked them out through the rumpled material of her dress; and every time I palmed them she groaned softly and pushed against me. I dropped my hands to her ass, my other favourite viewing area. They were perfect – each one filling my palm whilst my fingers fitted under the curl of each buttock where it joined her crack. There wasn't an ounce of fat on her, thanks to the daily work-outs she did, and her body felt lean and warm as it pressed against the length of mine. I could smell her too: the fragrance of her perfume, mostly, and the crisp scent of her shampoo - but there was something else. too: a tinge of musk – the faint odour of arousal that gradually grew stronger as her desire ratcheted up.

By then my cock was as hard as a baseball bat, and I knew she could feel it as she started pressing her hips forward and grinding her loins against mine. Ellie had been much shorter than me but Mum was just the right height, and our bits just slotted together: my log pressing perfectly into the crease between those long, beautiful legs. I began to move my hips gently, dry humping her, imagining what it would be like to slide into the warm, vibrant slit just a few millimetres from my shaft.

The escalation from kissing to humping caused her to pull away and she held my face gently with both hands. I remember thinking that this was it – she would back off and we'd each go to our rooms as hot as pistols to beat off. But she didn't.

'Do you want this, Tom?' her voice was husky with desire. 'You know if we do this, nothing will ever be the same again. Are you ready for that?'

I nodded, my eyes on her face, and she took my hand and led me upstairs.

*

You'd think a woman approaching middle age would be bashful of her body, but Mum wasn't. She'd always taken care of herself though, with gymnastics four times a week and regular visits to the beautician, and it showed. She looked like a twenty-five-year-old rather than a mother with two kids.

The dress dropped away in a whisper of silk and she stood beside the bed in that little black lacy bra and matching panties. In the soft illumination of the table lamp her body looked flawless and I stood for a moment just soaking it in: the long graceful neck, the delicate structure of her shoulders, the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips, all fashioned by a craftsman. She had her legs slightly astride – those long, perfect legs and I drank in their shape and texture, my eyes roaming over them before settling on the little black panties at their juncture. They were stretched as tight as a second skin, accentuating the contours of her mound and the shadow of her sex crouching within it, and I felt my mouth go dry.

I ripped off my shirt and dropped my pants and we stood before each other for a few moments. She reached behind her to undo the hook on her bra and it fell free. Her breasts were still firm, sitting high on her ribcage and I saw the nipples were thick and swollen with desire.

'Now you, Tom,' she whispered. She was looking at the tent in my pants.

I wouldn't say I have the biggest cock in the world, nor the smallest– but I reckon it was the hardest one at that moment. It bobbed free as I pulled down my jocks, the glans purple and shining and the shaft as thick as a stick. I watched her expression as she looked at it: the hooded eyes, the lips slightly apart, a shadow of something flitting across her face – surprise that her little boy wasn't so little, perhaps, or maybe a twinge of lust. It was only for a second or two, and then her eyes came back to my face to watch my expression as she hooked her thumbs under the elastic of her panties and slid them down over her thighs.

Like everything about her, my mother's pussy was neat, sitting below a crown of hair as fine as spun gold. The lips were slightly open and the flesh between them a delicate shell pink, fresh and clean and shining with moisture. It looked small, too – certainly smaller than my knob, which by then felt massive as it reacted to the delicious sight before me. I stared at her crack, imagining how it would feel to break into it: envisaging how tight it would be as those delicate lips stretched wide to take me inside.

She must have had the same thoughts as she moved quickly to where I stood and dropped to her knees, her hand reaching out to grasp my cock. For a second or two she stared up at my face, and then she turned and took me into her mouth.

How can I possibly describe what I felt at that moment? Physically it was devine: her soft, wet lips opening just enough to engulf my knob but tight enough to grip as I slid into her face. Her mouth was warm and her tongue slithered along the underside of my shaft as it entered her, inch by inch, sliding ever deeper until the constriction of her throat and the fluttering of her hands told me to stop. But it was more than that: it was the sight of her, my mother, crouching on the floor with my cock buried in her throat. It was the sheer fucking eroticism of that glorious, illicit moment as I first penetrated her in the sanctity of my parents' bedroom, and the knowledge that if we were caught the world as we knew it would come to an end.

I'd thought Ellie had been good at giving head, but she paled into insignificance compared to Mum. For the next ten minutes she treated me to a stunning demonstration of how to eat cock, with a finesse and enthusiasm that literally took my breath away. It was the way she moved her mouth, the exacting pressure of her lips: soft and wet one moment and tight and rubbery the next; it was her tongue, curling around the exquisitely sensitive skin of my glans, or darting arrow like into the little hole in its end. It was the expression in her eyes watching my face to gauge my pleasure, and the way she gripped me at the root of my cock to tide the rising tornado of my cum.

She knew how to use the visual cues too, breaking away every now and again to rest my great purple knob against her beautiful, soft face whilst she looked at me like a young girl, lips wet and smiling. It was the way she let my lubrication drool in slimy cords from her chin; It was the expression in those cool grey eyes as if to say 'This is your mother, and I bet in your wildest dreams you didn't know I could do this.'

Twice she pinched off my impending orgasm, waiting until my corded hands relaxed and I caught my breath; and then she'd start again – long, gliding strokes into the back of her throat interspersed with short sharp bobs with her lips clamped just behind the head of my cock.

And then, when my vision greyed out for the third time, she pulled free and led me to the bed with a smile. 'Now it's your turn, Tom,' she whispered. 'Show me what you can do.'

I knelt between her outstretched legs and bent my head to her pussy. The lips were furled back and swollen with excitement, with a pearl of cream resting between them like a drop of precious elixir. I captured it on the tip of my tongue, delighting in its oily texture and the salty taste, and the knowledge that it had come from deep inside my mother's sex. She'd levered herself up to watch as I lapped at her vagina, my tongue sliding lightly into the furrow and I heard he little squeaks and sighs of pleasure, and the soft words she uttered.

'Oh God, yes...just there...just there. That's it! A little deeper – yes, push it in.' My mother's voice resonating in my ears.

And as I worked I noticed how her hands guided me, pulling me when she wanted my tongue deeper and pressing downwards to direct my mouth lower. I learned her clit was too sensitive to touch directly but she loved it when I used the soft inside of my bottom lip to stimulate it; and she delighted in the long, slow laps of my tongue too, from the very back of her sex to the soft, wet hair crowning it. She lifted her legs to allow me better access, rolling her hips upwards to thrust her sex against my mouth, delighting as my tongue darted into her as deep as I could push it.

She moaned softly when my tongue flickered over the puckered ring of her anus and her hands held me there, her voice gusty with passion. 'Jesus...ah, yes. Just there, Tom...that's so nice,' and then a soft, quivering sigh as I moved upwards to lap hungrily at the juice gathering there. I gathered it on my tongue as thick and sweet as custard, allowing it to rest on my taste buds before swallowing it; and then lapping to gather more.

I'd learned from her too. Twice she reached up towards her orgasm as my lips worked gently on her clitoris, and twice I waited until she spiraled towards the pinnacle before lifting my face to smile at her, my lips and chin soaked in her juices. And she'd gasp softly to catch her breath and pull me towards her for a long, passionate kiss before lifting her legs again in invitation.

'You're leaking,' she said during one short break. Her eyes were on my cock which was drooling pre-cum in long silver strands. I felt it would burst, and I told her.

'Then its time,' she said and her hands guided me as I mounted her, looking down between us as I climbed aboard. 'Go in slowly, Tom. I want to watch as well as feel you.'

I'll never forget the experience of penetrating my mother for the first time: the smear of silver love juice on the hot skin of my glans as it engaged. A soft sigh as she felt it press inwards, and then a frantic request to wait, to keep still, to share the moment. A snapshot of her body under mine: those glorious breasts with nipples as hard as organ stops; my cock half buried in her flesh, jerking slightly, a ring of fluid seeping from around it. The grip of her hands on my body holding me, begging me not to move as her flesh trembled around my shaft, and her voice soft with wonder as she whispered to me.

'Can you feel it Tom? You're inside me, my love.'

'I can, I can.'

'Is it good for you?'

'It's delicious. I love you, Mum.'

'I love you too, honey.'

I watched her face as I began to move again, sliding deeper inch by inch. The widening of her eyes, her mouth opening in a silent "O" of pleasure as she felt my shaft levering aside the clinging walls of her cunt. I felt her back arch to better absorb me, and heard her a small groan of pleasure as my pubic hair touched hers. I was buried inside her to the hilt and in a sudden rush of awareness I understood that no matter what the future might hold, this was a defining moment. It was my mother underneath me! This was a coupling so wrong that we would forever have a bond to bind us together. This was sex at its finest.

She began to move and I reciprocated with long, slippery strokes into her core. Delighting in the tightness of her flesh, in the little words she gasped into my ear telling me how good it was, and how much she loved it. She lifted her legs and locked them over my back and I slid even deeper. Her cunt was a river, oozing and dripping as I thrust back and forth. I could feel her juice smeared over my thighs and balls, hear the soggy thump of our flesh as it parted and joined and her fingers were like claws on my arms as the gasped frantic words of desire in that quiet and empty house.

'Fuck me, Tom! Go faster! God, yes...yes. Push deeper!'

I heard my own voice telling her I loved her, loved being inside her. Asking if I could cum into her, and I heard her tremulous reply.

'Yes, please yes! Cum into me, son. Fill me up...fill me up!'

The thought of impregnating my mother was enough to trigger my climax. My universe narrowed to encompass only her face and the glorious feeling of my shaft plunging into her body: back and forth, back and forth, each stroke lifting me higher, ratcheting me upwards to a place where there was only me and her; my cock and her pussy. Lifting me to the very pinnacle, to balance there for an eternity before I erupted into her squirming body.

She felt the first jet of my sperm and it triggered her own climax. Her shriek of ecstasy mirrored my own and her cunt clamped down on me, milking, milking, drawing out each burning ribbon of seed. It seemed to go on forever, one long rope after another spraying deep into her body, oozing back along her twitching tube to dribble onto the sheets. And still it came, weaker jets now but still enough for her to feel them, to gasp in wonder at the knowledge that it was her son's seed filling her.