What Happened That First Morning with My Son at Home

My name is Carolina, and my son Tomás came back home after fourteen months away. He had just turned twenty when he grabbed his things and moved in with whatever girlfriend he was seeing at the time. I warned him that living together would be harder than he imagined, but at that age nobody listens to a mother.

Luckily —and by a miracle, really— he didn’t make me a grandmother. I know exactly what that means: I had Tomás before I was even nineteen, and his father, another boy the same age, vanished off the face of the earth before I finished my second trimester. A coward.

Over the years I had gotten used to living alone. I left the bathroom door open, walked around the house with whatever I was wearing on —or nothing at all— and on summer weekends I spent the whole time naked between the patio and the kitchen. I kept my toys in the nightstand drawer —two dildos, a clit vibrator, and a plug— and used them whenever I felt like it, without having to hide anything or lower the volume of my moans when I came.

When he called to tell me he was coming back, the first thing I felt wasn’t happiness. It was a strange irritation, as if some permission were being taken away from me. Then I felt guilty for thinking that. He was my son. I couldn’t leave him out on the street.

The first day he settled into what had always been his room. He dumped his suitcases in a corner, plugged in the console and the computer next to the bed, and locked himself in there until dinner. We barely spoke. He looked at his phone between bites, and as soon as he finished his plate he went right back into his room. I thought maybe living together would be easier than I’d imagined.

***

The next morning I got up early, still with my hair mussed and wearing the long cotton T-shirt I sleep in. I shuffled down the hallway and opened the bathroom door without thinking. Tomás was there, standing in front of the mirror, shaving. And completely naked.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that…” I started to say.

“Hi, mom,” he answered without flinching, as if being naked wasn’t the issue.

I never would have imagined what he was carrying between his legs. Hanging over his testicles was a hairless cylinder of flesh, calm, considerable. And that was with it asleep. I looked away at once. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but above all I didn’t want to keep looking at that thick cock hanging between his thighs, because I felt something strange, a stupid pulse in my stomach that had no business being there, and worse still, a damp tingle between my legs.

“I’ll come back later,” I said, already backing up. “Remember you’re not alone now. You can’t go around naked in the house.”

“As if you’ve never seen me naked,” he said, laughing.

“Yes, but you were a kid. Now…”

“Now what?” he laughed harder. “Are you scared?”

And then he did something that left me even more thrown off. He set the razor down in the sink, grabbed his penis with his right hand, and started shaking it in the air like he was brandishing a sword. He came out of the bathroom chasing me down the hallway, laughing like a child, pretending to attack me with that hanging cock between his legs. I ran away shrieking, half scandalized, half dying of laughter.

“Come on, get out of here!” I told him once I reached the kitchen. “Finish shaving; I need to go in.”

He went back to the bathroom and I stayed there, leaning on the counter, trying to catch my breath. I put water on for tea and sat down to wait. My face felt hot and my panties were starting to cling to me, soaked through. It’s nothing, Caro, it’s nothing.

***

A little while later he showed up in the kitchen, still without clothes. But now he was walking more calmly, with one hand resting on his cock as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you like it?” he asked me.

“Like what?” I answered, playing dumb.

“How it turned out. Nice and smooth. That’s why it took me so long.”

I let out a laugh that came out more nervous than I intended.

“And why do you shave?” I asked, trying to sound motherly.

“What do you mean, why? So when they suck me off, they don’t end up with hairs in their mouth.”

“Tomás, don’t be vulgar.”

“It’s the truth. Girls like sucking clean cock. You probably shave your whole pussy.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything. And cover that up.”

“Come on, I want to see. Are you ashamed of your pussy?”

He came closer, still laughing, and grabbed the hem of my T-shirt to lift it. We wrestled. I laughed, slapped his hands away, told him to stop. Two or three times, his cock brushed my arm, thick and warm, and I swear goose bumps broke out all the way up my neck and I felt my nipples hardening under the fabric.

That was when I began to realize the game was pleasing me far too much.

“Well, a little,” I finally said, and lifted my shirt just enough to show my underwear. A plain white cotton panty, nothing fancy, with a dark wet patch right in the middle that didn’t escape his notice.

With my thumb I slid the elastic down three fingers’ width and showed him the few pubic curls I had. He looked without saying anything. He looked at me for a long moment, his tongue pressed to his lip. And then, without waiting for permission, he grabbed the panties by the sides and pulled them all the way down to my ankles. He stared at my pussy, with its lips already swollen and shining from how wet I was.

“Just right for shaving,” he said. “Come on, I’ll shave it for you.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Let’s go to the bathroom, mom. I’ll leave your pussy perfect.”

He took my hand and I followed without resisting. My mind no longer processed the fact that he was my son. I only felt the heat in my pelvis, the pounding pulse in every part of my body where there was blood, and that warm thread running down the inside of my thigh.

***

We went into the bathroom. He grabbed his shaving cream and a new razor. I sat on the toilet because I couldn’t take it anymore, and by then I didn’t care that he was there. I watched him pee with his cock already half-hard, biting his lip. I heard him chuckle softly while he got everything ready.

“Come here,” he said after a moment. “It’s better on the bed.”

He took me by the arm and led me to my bedroom. I threw myself back on the bed, spread my legs wide open, and let him put a towel underneath me. He brushed warm foam over my pubis and my heart started beating so hard I thought I’d hear it.

“Stay still,” he murmured.

He moved the razor patiently, slowly, as if he were working on a watch mechanism. Every millimeter he went over twice. With the fingers of his other hand he opened my pussy lips so he wouldn’t cut me, and every time his thumb brushed my clit I felt a jolt that made me clench my teeth. Then he lifted my legs and soaped around my asshole. He passed the razor over it with the same calm, spreading my ass cheeks with his free hand, and blew to get rid of the last bits of foam. He didn’t leave a single hair. He did it with the calm of someone who had done it many times before.

When I lifted my head, I saw that his cock was already fully hard. It pointed at the ceiling, swollen, with thick veins standing out along its length, the tip dark purple and a fat drop of pre-cum hanging from it. It was huge. I’m not exaggerating. My mouth went dry.

“There,” he said, passing the towel over me. “You look beautiful. You have the pussy of a little girl.”

***

I didn’t get a chance to answer. He knelt between my legs, grabbed my thighs, and spread them until I felt like my hips were going to break. He pressed his mouth to my vulva and started sucking me with an intensity I hadn’t expected. His tongue moved in circles around my clit, then flattened against my freshly shaved lips, then slid inside and pumped as if it were a miniature cock. He sucked, slurped, made obscene sounds with his mouth against my wet flesh. I clutched the sheets with both hands. My body wouldn’t obey a single command. He pushed two fingers inside and curled them, searching for the exact spot, all while still sucking my clit. I started shaking and an orgasm hit me like a lash, so strong it stole my breath and I felt myself soak his whole face.

“You have such a delicious pussy, mom,” he said, his chin shining with my juices. “I knew you’d like it.”

But he didn’t stop. He straightened up, grabbed his cock with one hand, ran it through the slit to coat it well with my wetness, and shoved it into me in one thrust all the way to the hilt. It felt like they’d put a hot arm inside me. The thick head slammed against my womb and I screamed. I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t scream louder. He thrust with a rhythm that didn’t seem improvised, pulling almost all the way out and then driving it back in until his balls hit me, making a splashing sound every time his hips crashed against mine. He grabbed my tits over my T-shirt, squeezed them, pinched my nipples through the cotton until they stood out. Then he yanked my shirt up, bent down, and bit one nipple while he kept pounding into me.

“Watch my cock going in,” he said, straightening up again. “Look how I take it all the way in.”

I looked down and saw his cock entering and leaving, shiny, swollen, leaving rings of white foam at the base every time it came out. I kept having orgasms, one after another, with no time to come down from the last one. Everything inside me was contracting, my vagina clamping around him like a fist, and he let out guttural groans every time he felt the contractions around his cock.

“Stop,” I told him at last, grabbing his forearm. “Stop. I don’t want you coming inside.”

He pulled out with a sudden motion, dripping. Before I could react, he turned me over and left me face down. He grabbed my hips, lifted my ass, and spit into my hole. He lubed his cock with his own saliva and my fluids, set it against my asshole, and pushed slowly at first, then with a jerk when he felt me give.

The pain was an electric current from my waist to the nape of my neck. I bit the pillow. I thought he was splitting me in two. I felt him enormous in there, forcing every centimeter, burning me. But I didn’t tell him to stop. I dug my nails into his thigh and pushed back too, because something inside me no longer wanted to stop. He grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, and started fucking my ass with short, fast thrusts.

“Such a tight ass you have, mom, fuck,” he panted. “You’re milking my cock.”

He slid his other hand underneath, found my clit, and started rubbing it in circles while he kept shoving it up my ass. The combination drove me crazy. I started pushing my ass back on my own, asking for more, saying things I didn’t recognize as coming from me.

“Give it to me, give it to me, harder, break me,” I moaned into the pillow. “Put it all the way in.”

This time he came inside me. I felt his cock swell even more, felt the spasms start, and then the hot jets of semen filling my ass, one after another, while he growled and dug his nails into my hips. He stayed inside until the last drop, his body weight over my back, panting in my ear. When he finally pulled out, I felt the thick semen running down the crease of my ass toward my pussy. I was left panting against the sheet, not really understanding what had just happened.

***

I thought that was the end of it. That he’d run out of there ashamed, and I’d spend the rest of the day crying in the shower. That didn’t happen. Within minutes he was hard again, leaning against the doorframe jerking off while watching me, and he came back to the bed to fuck me from the front as if nothing had happened, as if we were two strangers in a hotel and not mother and son in my bedroom. This time I sucked him off first, kneeling on the floor and taking him all the way to the back of my throat, tasting myself and him mixed together while he held my head with both hands and fucked my mouth.

That wasn’t the only time. It was the first. That same afternoon we spent it both of us naked all over the house, eating the leftovers from the night before with our hands, laughing, starting all over again on the couch —me astride him, riding him until my thighs cramped— in the kitchen —against the counter, with him behind me biting my neck— in his room —on top of the console, until the controller fell to the floor and neither of us bothered to pick it up—. We didn’t stop until night came again, and when we fell asleep, he was still inside me.

We knew it was wrong. We both knew it. But there was no going back now.

From then on, around the house we do as we please. Mostly naked the whole day, and every time we cross paths in the hallway or the kitchen, we end up on the floor or against the wall. If my mind is occupied with anything, he gets on his knees and eats my pussy until I forget what I was doing, until I come in his mouth and he swallows everything. If he’s on his console, I sit on his lap, pull down his pants, take out his cock, and ride it until he drops the controller and grabs my hips to move me himself.

At night we sleep in the same bed. Many times I wake up with his hard cock pressed against my ass, or with his mouth already working me between the legs. I’ve learned to come silently and to make him come inside me without saying a word, just with the rhythm of my hips and my hand covering his mouth.

For the rest of the world, we’re a single mother and her son, a normal family like the ones that go to the supermarket on Saturdays and celebrate birthdays like anyone else. Inside, between these walls, we live something else. Something forbidden, something we don’t tell anyone, something that burns us every day. And I no longer want it to go out.