Pet Mommy: Becoming a Mommy-slut - Sex Stories

Pet Mommy: Becoming a Mommy-slut

... my eyes off my son and his shockingly large cock. It was only a minute, maybe two, before my son moaned, "Oh yes, Mommy, suck my cock, be a good Mommy slut." I couldn't completely hold in the gasp this time, as I realized he was not only masturbating using my stockings, he was masturbating about me. Luckily, he was clearly in his own fantasy world and did not hear my slight sound. A couple of minutes later, including my son using my name three more times, he grunted, "I'm coming Mommy, swallow my cum." Seconds later his sticky white stuff shot out in the air like a rocket. I quickly retreated back down the stairs, snuck out of my own house and to my car. I couldn't believe what I had just seen and heard. My son fantasized about me. I was mortified and doubly mortified when I felt an undeniable dampness in my panties. Why was I wet? Why was I suddenly so horny? Did he really call me a Mommy-slut? I shook the thoughts out of my head and pulled out of my driveway to see if a drive would let me put what I saw in perspective. An hour later, close to when I was supposed to be home, I walked in the house and called out, just in case, "Michael, I'm home." Michael called out from his room, "Hi, Mom." I went to his room, the door open, and asked, while he was on his computer, "Want pizza?" "Sounds great," he answered, completely unaware of what I knew. It was hard to believe that what I saw just an hour ago was real. The rest of the evening was normal: supper, watching Jeopardy ...

... together and him going to his room and his computer while I watched television, planned showings for tomorrow and relaxed. At bedtime, I tossed and turned, as the image of my son masturbating, and thinking about me doing it, refused to leave my mind. My vagina was tingling and although I tried to deny the temptation to pleasure myself, I eventually gave in. Closing my eyes, I fantasized, like I always did, of my late husband, the perfect man who left me way too soon. He understood my submissive nature in the bedroom, the polar opposite of my personality in public, where I was in charge and a no-nonsense woman. A feminist in most people's eyes. I imagined myself on all fours, the way he usually fucked me, so he could fuck whichever hole suited his fancy, as when we were alone and intimate he treated me like the slut I craved to be; yet, in public he was the perfect gentleman and husband, putting up the facade of a vanilla life, which was all anyone would see. This fantasy or reminiscing of the ‘good times’ always got me off quickest and I was close in only a few minutes. As I got close to climax, my mind played tricks on me and suddenly it was not my husband pounding me from behind, but my son. So close to coming I kept pleasuring myself until the crescendo of pleasure washed through me and I heard my son order, "Come Mommy, come from your son's big hard cock!" The orgasm was more intense than most I self-created and I collapsed onto my bed a bundle of sweat. As I recovered from the ...