Robert Vickers: Her lover son

Locked together in each other's arms, they rested.

In their drug and alcohol stupors, it wasn't long before they began fucking again.

Joleen stirred and pulled the covers over her bare, cold skin. Her shoulder was exposed to the frigid air of the bedroom. She had forgotten to turn up the heat again. With her head feeling like a rotten melon ready to split apart, and the taste of a well-worn sweat sock in her mouth, she didn't wonder why she had forgotten to turn up the thermostat the night before.

The blanket covered her to the neck, but as she pulled, she felt a resistance. That bothered her. Harold was out of town and wouldn't be back from his overseas flight for another week.

Joleen sat bolt upright in bed and ignored the blood pounding in her ears and the sharp jab of pain that needled into the back of her eyeballs. In horror, she saw the naked body of Larry in bed next to her. Bits and pieces of what had happened the previous night began to filter up out of the hangover-masked depths of her mind.

She remembered being drunk. She remembered Larry coming home from Katherine's stoned out of his tree. Her mouth felt as dry and parched as the desert sands when she remembered Larry fucking her.

She had fucked her own son!

The woman felt her stomach do a flipflop in reaction. That was unforgivable! Joleen could barely comprehend what she had done, the demands her body had made that forced her into fucking her own flesh and blood.

Larry stretched his cramped muscles without opening his eyes. He yawned an enormous yawn, then rolled onto his back and flexed his muscles like a cat awakening from a long nap. Joleen was fascinated in spite of herself as she watched the flow and play of her son's tendons and muscles.

Her son wasn't a weightlifter or a jock, but he wasn't any ninety-eight-pound weakling, either. There wasn't any flab on him like there was on Harold. In a way, her son reminded her of the man she had married nineteen years earlier. Larry was trim, well built, sleek, streamlined and one hell of a good fuck.

That thought frightened her for a moment, then her triphammering heart slowed back to normal. What was really so wrong with fucking her own son? There wasn't any chance of pregnancy; the pill had taken care of things like that. And she needed a man, a real man, around to sate her aching desires. Her sexual tensions had built to the point where she thought she would go insane. Was it really all that bad using her son as the outlet she needed?

The more Joleen thought about it, the more sense it made. Larry was around. Harold wasn't. Larry was a man, youthful and lustful. Harold was getting paunchy and hadn't really satisfied her in the last ten years.

Harold Jensen may have been an expert pilot, but when it came down to soaring in the sack, he was more of a canceled flight than anything else.

"Hi, Mom," said Larry, his voice tinged with the fuzzy blur of sleep.

"How are you this morning?" loleen could barely stand the sound of her own voice. The hangover made her tongue feel like a catcher's mitt, and she was sure that the evil little gnome inside her head would never stop kicking the backs of her eyeballs with those spiked golf shoes.

"Just great. But you look like warmed over death. You shouldn't drink like you do. Take up a clean vice."

He was sounding more and more cheerful. And Joleen hated him for it.

"Really, Mom. Dope's a lot better high. You must have one hell of a big hangover." He watched as she solemnly shook her head no.

"Hmmm," Larry muttered. Then he clapped his hands together in a sharp, emphatic sound that threatened to burst Joleen's eardrums.

"Dammit! Why the hell did you have to do that?" she cried.

"Ha! Thought so! You do have a hangover. And I bet you've forgotten what all happened last night. Booze makes people forget a lot of stuff. I remember everything."

Joleen wasn't sure if her son was boasting or merely stating a fact. She asked, "And what happened, Mr. Know-It-All?"

"After we finished fucking out in the living room, you sucked on my cock for a while. Then I got it up, we came in here and got it on again." He studied his mother for a few seconds, then said, "Mother of mine, have you ever got a tight one. Even tighter than Kathy's, and is she ever a hot one!"

Joleen saw her son didn't have the slightest remorse or hangup over fucking his own mother. In fact, he seemed to have enjoyed it. And he was complimenting her. Joleen couldn't remember the last time Harold had said anything halfway nice about their lovemaking. Mostly, he just grunted a lot, shot his load into her, then rolled off and went to sleep.

The woman shuddered as she thought of the many nights she had listened to Harold's snores disturbing the quiet.

"Don't you think it's a little… kinky… to ball your own mother?" Joleen asked in obvious surprise.

"Sure, that's what makes it such a turn on! It's really kinky! Face it, Mom, I can't stand the same things over and over. It's got to be exciting. You've got to do different things, or you'll get bored. I bet the old man is a real downer in the sack. Missionary position or nothing, right?"

It took Joleen a couple seconds to realize that Larry was talking about Harold. She hadn't realized how obvious it was, her relationship with her husband. Even her son had seen that Harold was less than adequate sexually. Joleen would not have cared if Harold had been inexpert as long as he had tried different positions. That hangup of his about always getting on top was tiresome after so many years of marriage. He wouldn't even eat her out, though he sometimes demanded that his wife suck his cock. The woman sometimes thought Harold had a large streak of sadism in him. That he delighted in making her do the same tired things year after year, refusing to innovate.

Hell, she had never even been fucked up the ass! In nineteen Goddamn years of marriage, Harold had completely missed her rear door.

That sudden thought made her answer, "That's the way it is, Larry. Your father's not much of an ace in bed. He's never… fucked me in… the ass." Her words stretched out. She wanted to see what effect they would have on her son.

Larry scratched his ribs, then his balls. The woman couldn't keep her eyes off his cock. Her son was really hung. That long cock of his could keep a harem satisfied. It had certainly kept her satisfied last night.

Larry, almost too casually, said, "That so? That must be a real shame because you have such a nice ass. It's so round and firm. Doesn't sag and look flabby like most women. This might sound really kinky to you, but I get a real charge out of watching you walk down the street. Or just around the house. Your butt sways so nice. Not up and down or from side to side but sort of in a circle. Really a turn on watching you from behind."

Larry continued to scratch at his groin, languorously, in obvious invitation.

Joleen licked her dry lips. Did she really want to be ass-fucked by her own son? It was apparent he'd do it. As the woman watched, she could see his cock slowly stiffening. Could she waste his beautiful hard-on?

The familiar aching and hollow feeling in her cunt returned. She needed a man, and Harold wasn't able to provide for her in that line any more. Larry seemed more than willing; he seemed to be eager for the opportunity to make it with his own mother.

The bored housewife made the big decision. She reached over and removed Larry's hand from his crotch and replaced it with her own. She purred, "What's a big boy like you doing jacking himself off? When there's a woman around?" Joleen began a gentle stroking of the semistiff cock curled in his groin. Her hand felt the stiff, bristling hair of her son's groin before she started the gradual journey down the hardening shaft. Two trips from balls to cockhead and Larry's prick was huge. As huge as Joleen remembered from the night before.