Every Last Thing - Sex Stories

Every Last Thing

... sensation like that one. It was at once grounding and completely surreal. To be impaling a woman is one thing, to see the woman crouched above you, on you was another. For that woman to be you own mother, staring into your eyes with love, concern and lust was something altogether different and taboo.

Again, I had no time to process this new series of feelings.

There was only frenzy. Mom, straddling me like a jockey, went for it, pumping up and down with abandon like she just wanted me to come quickly and be done with it. It was like she had a race to win, and I was immaterial. I lay on the bed, hardly able to take in what had just happened, as she rode my cock like a steam piston. Obviously, it was what she needed though. Within what felt like seconds, she was howling in the throes of an orgasm that I could feel as tight pulses on my cock. The sheer shock of her passion -- and the fact it was mom feeling it and I was causing it - sent me over the edge too and I came inside her. The feeling was more intense than anything I had ever experienced. I'd had many orgasms with many women over the years. This was stronger, more intense than all of them combined. I heard myself yelling in pleasure as what felt like gallons of semen was sucked out of my soul, through my penis and into my mother.

Just as quickly, it was over. Mom collapsed across me, cock still inside her, panting.

"I needed that." She whispered, breathlessly.

I said nothing. I lifted my arms up at last ...

... and encircled her, holding her gently. I wanted her to know that I was cool with what just happened. The feeling of her skin against my skin was intense. My mind was whirling with what we had just done -- what we were still doing. I had fucked my father over and was now dirty filthy revenge-fucking his wife my mother. My incestuous dick was inside her incestuous pussy. My incestuous semen mingling with her incestuous juices inside her. I tried to make sense of it. And realized one thing. I liked it.

No. I loved it.

We had had something that you could hardly even call sex. Perhaps a revenge-fuck was the term, after all. It was seedy. Scummy. Filthy. Dirty. Wrong. Illegal. Animalistic and primal, there had been absolutely no lovemaking involved, but there was love. Pure, unconditional, and as united and wholly holy as two people could ever be. It may have been wrong. I didn't care.

Mom placed her palms on either side of my face and stared into my eyes, trying to see where my head was at. Finally, I knew where my head was at.

I raised my head and kissed her full on the lips.

Her eyes widened, then crinkled at the sides. She returned my kiss, lips parting, tongue darting between my own opening lips. I lifted my hands to the back of her head and held her as we made out like teenagers. This time, it was slow, passionate, like neither of us had eaten in a month. We devoured each other. Our tongues met and meshed and mangled and mixed saliva as our lips mashed, heads ...