My Son’s Bun In My Back Oven : Anal Mothers 17

My son Charlie suddenly started showing an alarming interest in the bakery I’ve had for the past twenty years.

He comes in early every morning and I start to give him lessons that soon turn sexual when his real intentions become known.  Now I want him inside me, but he promised his virginity to someone else.  Instead I take him in my ass, convincing him that it doesn’t count.  Fill my butt with your hot love, Charlie.  I want every last drop.

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“So kiss me.”

“Mom!” Charlie gasped, stepping away.

“Charlie I’m trying to help you,” I said, pretending to be offended.

“Can we do that?”

“There’s no-one else here,” I said, looking around.  “Of course we can do it.”

Charlie moved in slowly.

“That’s it,” I said.  “Put one hand here.”

I gripped his hand and moved it to my cheek.  He held me tenderly and I realized that this fantasy was mine now and not Charlie’s.  I was telling him to kiss me exactly how I’d always desired.

“And your other hand here,” I said, and I moved it to my hip.

Charlie’s mouth moved towards mine and I closed my eyes, letting myself drift away as his lips softly touched against mine.

He was timid at first and I was coy too.  Our mouths pressed together and I teased my tongue through my lips.  Charlie did the same and the sudden connection seemed to spark something inside the both of us.

I took a deeper breath and kissed him with greater passion, grinding my pussy against his leg as the embrace flourished into something taboo.

I moved my arms under his and pulled his back towards me, swirling my tongue against his and feeling like a teenager all over again.

As we kissed I felt Charlie begin to grow in his pants and soon I could feel his thick muscle pressing against my thigh.

I broke away from him slowly and felt a semblance of myself begin to return.  My eyes blinked and I looked across into the face of my son.

“That’s good, Charlie,” I said, as though we were still mid-lesson.

“Is that all?” he asked.  “Is that all I need to do?”

“No,” I said.

This time I didn’t say a word.  Instead I took his hand and guided it under my apron.  Charlie let me move him submissively, showing no sign of protest as I placed his upturned palm in between my legs.  I held him there against me, my fingers interlaced with his again.

“There,” I said.  “You need to work your way there.  Slowly.”

“Slowly?”

“Yeah, we—uhh—jumped ahead a few steps,” I smirked.

“And then?”

“Just move,” I said, dictating my rhythm against his fingers.

Charlie matched my pace and I let out a long breath as he slowly started to rub himself over my mature, forbidden sex.

“That’s it,” I gasped.  “Oh, Charlie, that’s it.”

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