My cock was hard, there was a lovely lady wanting it, and I was about to cum all over the place. After a few of her strokes I could bear it no longer. I had to be on top of her. I rolled her over and slowly began a humping rhythm into her warm pussy. My cock seemed to expand to a size I had yet to experience in my young life. Each thrust brought a new flash of feeling to my engorged cock. As I huffed and puffed at my fucking, Mother grasped the cheeks of my ass to pull me deeper. Her moans only excited me further. Soon I could feel the rush to cum building within my balls. When I came inside of her it felt like I had exploded a mighty bomb. I was weak and trembling in her arms. My whole body tingled. Mother caressed the sweat dampened locks of my hair and whispered, “You are my love.” Realization of what had just occurred swept over me. Yes, over the years I had glimpsed my mother's nude body and it had turned me on. And, yes, I had masturbated a few times to the image of having her. She did not go easy, writhing underneath him, nails finding his back in punishment. He luxuriated in the pain – and the touch. But he was not willing to let her have her way, his mouth had not tasted enough of her yet. He loved the way her back arched as his teeth found the long column of her throat, the shudder as he laved the little marks his teeth made in her skin. The sigh when he found the hollow at her collarbone, the sigh changing to a mewl when his hands filled with her breasts. There he halted, let the minutes stretch for his own enjoyment. How often would he still be allowed to touch, to feel that subtle skin, that fullness under his hands. He had no idea why the pale curve, the dark contrast of the aureole had such profound attraction to him, but every time he touched her, it was a moment to savour. It was also a moment of torture, her glittering pine-green eyes now unseeing with want. It was that, the knowledge of her eventual surrender, which made him act. He wanted to.
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