The soft morning light slipped through the blinds, filling the quiet suburban house with a warm glow. Sophia stood in front of the bathroom mirror after her shower, water still beading on her skin. At thirty-eight, her body was still dangerously sexy — full, heavy breasts that sat high and firm, a narrow waist, and a round, plump ass that turned heads.
She chose her outfit carefully. A thin, tight white tank top with no bra underneath. The soft fabric clung to her breasts, the dark outlines of her nipples clearly visible, the deep cleavage on full display. On the bottom she wore a pair of tiny black cotton shorts that rode up between her cheeks, leaving most of her round ass exposed. Every time she moved, the shorts dug deeper into her soft flesh.
Her husband had called twenty minutes earlier. Night duty. He wouldn’t be coming home.
The house was empty except for her and their son, Ethan.
Twenty-two years old. Tall, lean, and strong from the gym. And the one thing Sophia had been starving for.
Her marriage had become a dry, unsatisfying routine. Her husband’s cock was small, his interest even smaller. She hadn’t been properly stretched, filled, or used in years. But every time Ethan walked past her in the hallway, heat pooled between her legs. For months she had brushed her full breasts against his arm “by accident,” pressed her soft ass against the front of his shorts in the kitchen, and even slipped into his bed on cold nights, curling against his hard body. He had always pretended not to notice.
Today that would change.
She walked into his room without knocking.
Ethan sat on the edge of his bed in only a pair of black shorts, a book open on his lap. The morning light caught the ridges of his stomach and the thick outline already resting against his thigh. Sophia closed the door softly and sat right beside him, her heavy thigh pressing against his, her round ass spreading on the mattress. The thin tank top left almost nothing to the imagination.
“Look at me, Ethan,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “Tell me how I look.”
His eyes lifted. They darkened the moment they took in the way the tight fabric hugged her breasts and the way her shorts barely covered her.
“You’re… beautiful, Mom,” he managed, throat tight.
She took his wrist and placed his large hand directly over her left breast. The thin tank top did nothing to hide the stiff peak of her nipple.
“Squeeze,” she whispered. “You’re a man now. Don’t you feel anything when you look at me like this?”
His fingers closed.
A soft, broken moan slipped from Sophia’s lips as he squeezed harder, testing the weight and softness. She arched into his palm, guiding his other hand lower until it cupped the full curve of her ass through the tiny shorts. He gripped both — breast and ass — kneading, learning the shape of the body that had given birth to him and now begged to be used by him.
“Take the top off,” she breathed.
He did. The thin tank top was pulled over her head and her heavy, still-tight breasts spilled free. The dark nipples were already wet with the milk that sometimes still leaked when she was this aroused. Ethan stared for one stunned second, then lowered his mouth. He sucked one thick nipple deep, tongue circling, teeth grazing, while his hand roughly massaged the other. Warm milk coated his tongue. He drank greedily, the wet sounds of his mouth loud in the quiet room.
Reader Discussion
0