Chapter 2: Building Tension
Briefly, I thought about my girlfriend. My mom knew I was dating someone. But why was my cock so hard right now? I was conflicted. My mom was hot, yeah, I'd always thought that. But this was too far, wasn't it? She was my mom. And yet, here I was, unzipping my pants, my cock springing free, eager and ready. I couldn't help but stare at her, her red hair cascading over her shoulders, her green eyes locked onto mine. She looked... hungry.
She pushed back the seat, her dress riding up her thighs, exposing her lace-clad ass. "Come here, baby," she purred, her voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down my spine.
I moved closer, my cock brushing against her leg as I straddled her, my knees on either side of her hips. She wrapped her legs around me, her heels digging into my ass, pulling me closer. I could feel the heat of her pussy against my cock, the dampness of her arousal soaking through her panties and into my jeans.
"Take off your dress, mom," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of our ragged breaths. She smirked, her hands moving to the straps of her dress, slowly sliding them down her shoulders.
Students were starting to gather around the car too.
They were young high school kids, all giggles and laughs and crude jokes about sex. They were staring at the car, trying to figure out what was going on. I didn't want to make a scene, but I couldn't exactly stop what we were doing. Not when my cock was hard and throbbing, and not when I was so hard and ready.
I could see the kids outside, their faces pressed against the window, trying to see what was going on. They had no idea, but I did. My mother was hot, and she wanted me. Me. Her son.
I slipped out of my shirt, my muscles tensing as I moved. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against mine, her tongue darting out to taste me. I groaned, my cock pulsing as I felt her hands on my chest, her fingers tracing the lines of my muscles.
"You're so strong," she murmured, her voice a low purr. She reached up and grabbed a remote that tinted the windows. Wow, this was actually happening. I was making out with my mom in the backseat of our car, in the school parking lot, no less. I couldn't believe how good her lips felt on mine, how her tongue tasted like the wine she loved so much. I was drowning in her scent, a mix of her signature perfume and something else, something primal and intoxicating.
I felt her hands roam over my chest, her fingers playing with my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my cock. I broke away from her lips, trailing kisses down her neck, tasting her skin, feeling her pulse race against my tongue.
She arched her back, a soft moan escaping her lips, her fingers tangling in my hair. I could feel the heat between us, the electric charge that seemed to crackle in the air whenever we touched. It was intoxicating, addictive, and I never wanted it to end.
"Elliot," she whispered, her voice a low purr that sent shivers down my spine. "I've wanted this for so long."
I looked into her eyes, saw the truth reflected back at me. The desire, the need, the love. I knew it was wrong, that it went against everything society taught us, but in that moment, none of that mattered.
"Me too mom...
I've always wanted you." My hand cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing against her soft skin. I could feel her heart racing, matching the rhythm of my own. "But we can't. This is wrong, Mom."
She shook her head, her eyes filled with determination. "Who says it's wrong, Elliot? We're consenting adults. We're not hurting anyone. And we're not doing this because we have to. We're doing this because we want to. Because we can't deny this anymore."
She was right. I couldn't deny it anymore.
I dipped down and licked my tongue across Mom's wet clit.
She gasped and shoved a hand into my hair, holding me in place. "Fuck, Elliot. That feels so good."
I grinned against her pussy, my cock throbbing in my pants. I wanted to taste her, feel her come on my tongue. I wanted to make her scream my name.
I slipped a finger inside her, then another, curling them slightly to hit all the right spots. Her hips bucked, her breathing coming in short, desperate gasps. I could feel her pussy clenching around my fingers, her orgasm building.
"Elliot, please." Mom moaned for me.
"Tell me I'm your favorite son," I grunted.
I wanted to hear her say it, needed her to affirm what I was already sure of. That she was mine, and I was hers. That our love was different from the rest. That it was more.
She bucked her hips again, her voice barely a whisper, "You are, Elliot. You're my favorite."
I smiled against her clit, my fingers pumping in and out of her, feeling her slick heat surround me. Her words were like a drug, fueling my desire, making me harder. I was going to make her come so fucking hard.
"Good boy," she moaned, her grip on my hair tightening.
"Now make me come, Elliot. Make your mommy come."
Her words sent a jolt of electricity straight to my cock, and I dove in, my tongue lapping at her clit, my fingers fucking her pussy. She was close, I could feel it, her body tensing, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
"Elliot... yes... right there..." she panted, her hips bucking against my face.
I sucked her clit into my mouth, my fingers curling inside her, and that was all it took. She cried out, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed over her.
I held her hips down, my tongue and fingers working in tandem, drawing out her pleasure. She was so fucking beautiful like this, her face flushed, her chest heaving, her eyes locked onto mine.
"Holy shit, Elliot. That was... amazing," she breathed, her body still trembling with aftershocks. I pulled my fingers out, bringing them to my lips and sucking them clean. Her taste was sweet and intoxicating, and I found myself craving more.