My Soapy Asshole For My Son : Anal Mothers 23

What a series of events!  I’m scrubbing the tiled floor in the kitchen when a bizarre set of circumstances sees my son Angus drop the soapy water all over the floor.  It splashes my dress up over my ass and gives him the most sinful view of my soaped up asshole.  He can’t resist and I’ve been desperate for a good filling for too long now.  Stick it in my ass, Angus, and don’t be gentle.

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As I sucked his perfect length I started to toy between my legs, pushing my fingers against my pussy and moaning against his forbidden flesh as I felt my own wetness.  “I want you,” I groaned.  “I want you to be my first.”

“Your first,” he whispered, confused.

I pulled his cock from my mouth.  “The first in my ass.”

I felt Angus’s cock twitch in response.  I pulled back off him and opened the belt of my gown, letting it fall open and showing him my naked, mature body.

His eyes wandered over it.  He took in my big tits and soon he was staring at the triangle of kempt hair that sat above my pussy.

“Come here,” he beckoned, and he lay back against the tiles.

I crawled forward over him, arriving over his cock.  But Angus didn’t want me there yet.  Instead his hands came down inside my thigh and he pulled me upwards.  I continued to kneel forwards until his face disappeared beneath my crotch.

I could feel his breath inside my legs and then I felt the stubble of his handsome face against the soft skin of my inner thigh.

His mouth opened and gasped over my wetness.  He drove his tongue into me and I clenched, releasing a grunt of pleasure that I prayed my husband didn’t hear.

Angus was quick to the task.  He started to lap over my rippled flesh, parting the petals with his tongue and sliding along the groove like he was licking a Popsicle.

He was a messy eater, and I reveled in it.  The more ravenously he ate from me the more pleasurable it felt.  To feel his lips and tongue dance over my flesh was a treat like no other.  I had to remind myself that it was my son—my pride and joy—whose expert tongue was sending me to heights of ecstasy.

“Fuck,” I hushed, stretching my hands down my thigh and grinding my hips over him.

I smoothed my flesh across his face and realized I was in full control.  Angus had nary a say in where my pussy went—even if it disappeared completely.

I leaned forwards and concentrated as his tongue slipped down my pussy and over my honey-pot.  He slid inside briefly but before he could taste me it was gone.  It was replaced by the strap of skin that separated my two playgrounds.  Suddenly I felt the swirling of his tongue race over my puckered, virginal knot.

“Yes!” I cried, and Angus took that as his cue to lick faster.

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