What My Mother Did for Me Under the Wedding Table

Marisol was still a young woman, with long, straight, light brown hair and very fair skin. The most striking thing about her body was her broad, full hips, which held up a backside that was impossible to look away from. Those curves didn’t just draw the eyes of men in any room: that night, they also drew the gaze of her own son.

The two of them were at a wedding, in a huge banquet hall, sharing the same round table while the music barely managed to be heard.

—I saw you, Adrián —she said, narrowing her eyes—. What are you staring at on your cousin for?

—Nothing, Mom, come on —he answered, taking a sip from his glass—. It’s just that something caught my eye, that’s all.

—Oh, yeah? Something like what? Don’t go acting all perverted on me. She’s my sister’s daughter, you’re blood cousins. Don’t make things up.

—I really wasn’t looking at her ass or anything like that.

—Her ass? Show some respect, I’m your mother. What kind of way of talking is that?

—I wasn’t looking at anything, Mom. If you calm down, I’ll explain it to you.

Marisol drank again, now with some insistence, and looked at him over the rim of her glass. Adrián snorted and rolled his eyes, frustrated because she didn’t want to understand him.

—The way you’re drinking isn’t natural —he said, and took the glass out of her hand—. Can you slow down a little?

—Oh, and what’s it to you? —she snatched the glass back—. I’m your mother, here things are done my way. And for your information, I’m not the one staring at my cousin’s ass.

—Now you’re saying ass too? —Adrián raised an eyebrow, amused.

—You said it was natural —she defended herself, pouring herself more.

—I wasn’t looking at Camila at all, understand that.

—Then what an idiot, for how good-looking the girl is —murmured Marisol, downing what was left.

His own mother had just said that.

—I was looking at the dress! —Adrián finally blurted out—. It’s exactly like yours.

Marisol lowered the glass slowly and searched the crowd for her niece. Camila, indeed, was wearing the same cherry-colored, fitted, off-the-shoulder dress as she was.

—Hey, that’s true —she said, surprised—. It looks like mine.

—It doesn’t just look like it. It’s identical.

—You’re right. It’s the same one, the little bitch copied me.

***

Marisol waved her niece over and the girl came right away, smiling, glass in hand.

—Yes, Auntie, what happened?

—Did you see we’re wearing the same dress?

—Yeah —Camila laughed—. Look at it the good way, we look like sisters.

The two of them laughed, but Marisol was glancing sideways at her son, who couldn’t take his eyes off his cousin’s backside. Something warm and dangerous rose in her chest.

—Well, it looks better on you than on me, my love —she said, and gave her a couple of soft pats on the buttock.

—Haha, really? —Camila turned all the way around to show it off.

—You’re gorgeous. Your boyfriend must be very happy, right? —and she patted her again, this time a little harder, watching Adrián out of the corner of her eye.

—I hope so, Auntie. Well, I’m off now.

Camila walked away toward the dance floor. Marisol turned her head toward her son, who barely bothered to hide it.

—Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?

—She looked really good —he admitted.

—Yeah? Did you enjoy the view, pervert?

—Uff, damn right I did. Those pats you gave her made her bounce so damn deliciously. My cock got hard just from seeing her ass jiggle under the fabric.

Marisol kept a straight face, not blinking, her eyes fixed on him.

—You pictured her in your head with what you saw, didn’t you? Sicko. I saw it, you pictured her naked, tits out and pussy wet.

—And what did you want me to do? You saw how she is. Any man would fuck her right there on the floor in front of everyone.

She slammed her palm down hard on the table. Adrián jumped.

—Daniel —she said, using his full name like when he was a child—. We’re wearing the same dress. And in case you hadn’t noticed, Camila and I have almost the same measurements.

—But…

—No buts. Do you like staring at my ass too? Because right now there’s no difference. This ass I’ve got here is exactly like your cousin’s, and it’s the same one that came out from under me when you were born.

—Mom, no, that’s different —he stammered.

—It didn’t matter with your cousin. Why does it matter with me?

—Because you’re my mother.

At that moment someone came over to say hello. Marisol stood up to hug the woman and, in doing so, turned her back to her son. Suddenly Adrián had, a few inches from his face, his mother’s backside, an almost exact replica of the one he had just seen on his cousin. He swallowed and didn’t look away. He could see the line of her panties marked under the dress, the gap between the two cheeks drawn starkly by the clinging fabric. His cock, already half hard, gave a brutal tug against the zipper.

When she sat back down, she looked at him again.

—Did you at least enjoy it?

—A lot. I’d never been that close. I even saw your thong line, Mom. Thanks.

—Thanks? You’re messed up, son. I don’t know where you picked up those habits.

***

She instinctively lowered her gaze and froze. Under the fabric of his pants, Adrián’s erection was impossible to hide. A thick, long cock bulged sideways, pushing the fabric upward, swollen enough that even the corona could be made out.

—Oh, God —she murmured, covering her mouth.

—And now what? —he asked.

—You… you… —the words wouldn’t come.

—Me what? Take your hand away, I can’t understand you.

—That, son. That —she indicated the bulge with her eyes.

Adrián looked down at his own legs and realized. It was about to burst through his pants, so swollen that the thick vein could be seen pressing against the fabric.

—Sorry, Mom. I don’t know what came over me.

—Is it because of me or because of your cousin?

—I don’t know. I had both of you close. I’m a man, Mom, my body reacts. You can’t expect me not to feel anything having you both that close, with those giant asses bouncing right in front of me.

—And are you all right? It looks like it’s squeezing you.

—It’s stabbing me. It’s squeezing me like hell. My balls are burning, Mom.

—Dear God, it looks like you’re going to rip your pants.

—I think we’d better go home.

—Yes, that’ll be best. But you can’t stand up like that, look at the shape you’re in. Your hard-on can be seen from thirty feet away.

—Then what do I do? —he asked, frightened.

Marisol looked one way and the other. The table was empty, the others were dancing or chatting far away. She took another long drink, bit her lip, her fingers drumming on the tablecloth.

—Let’s see. I don’t even know who’s more fucked up, you for getting turned on by your mother and your cousin, or me for letting you. Take it out.

—What? Are you crazy? I can’t do that here.

—Let go of my arm, you’re hurting me. We can’t leave like this, and we’re alone at the table. Do you want my help or not?

—Yes, I do —he answered instantly.

—Then go on. Take it out.

Adrián carefully lowered his zipper, reached in, and freed himself from his pants. His cock sprang upward like a coil, thick, swollen, with the head purple and a fat drop of pre-cum already beading at the tip. He held it by the base, throbbing in his hand, so hard the veins stood out.

—Holy Mother of God —she whispered, staring without blinking—. Look at the size of it.

—Mom, it hurts.

—Of course it hurts, it’s enormous. And thick. Your whole skin looks stretched, son. And that head… it’s swollen like a fist.

—You’re not helping, you’re making it worse.

—It’s been so long since I saw one that size —she said, and for the first time it didn’t sound like a rebuke. Her eyes grew glassy, her breathing shorter. She crossed her legs under the table and squeezed her thighs together, uncomfortable with the heat beginning to build between them—. Your father’s wasn’t even half that thick.

—Mom, it’s leaking now.

Marisol couldn’t take her eyes off that transparent drop sliding slowly over the corona until it vanished down one side of the glans.

—Get in deeper under the table so it can’t be seen.

Adrián dragged the chair back to hide his legs under the tablecloth, his cock peeking out between the folds of his shirt, pointing at the face of anyone who might bend down to look.

***

—Camila! —Marisol called suddenly—. Come here, sweetheart.

—What are you doing? —Adrián asked, alarmed.

—You be quiet and enjoy it. Now it’s your turn to let off some steam, pervert. Grab hold of that hand and start thinking about your cousin.

The girl came over again. As soon as she arrived, Marisol stood up, hugged her, and slowly turned her until her back was to Adrián, offering her son a privileged view of his cousin’s backside. Adrián grabbed his cock under the tablecloth and began to jerk off, his hand closed in a tight fist.

—Oh, Auntie, what’s with the hug? —Camila laughed, hugging her back.

—I haven’t seen you in ages, and we’re about to leave. I wanted to say goodbye properly.

Over the girl’s shoulder, Marisol saw her son petrified, jaw clenched, his arm barely moving under the tablecloth. She made a sign with her eyes: do it already, go hard.

—That’s a shame, Auntie. We should see each other more often —Camila said, oblivious to everything.

Under the table, Adrián started moving, slowly at first, with his cousin’s ass a hand’s breadth from his face. He was jerking himself off with his hand closed tight, the skin sliding up and down over the cock wet with his own fluid, the damp sound muffled by the music. He could clearly see the gap between Camila’s cheeks outlined by the fabric, the round, full shape of each cheek, and he imagined shoving it in all the way, grabbing her by the hips and fucking her from behind.

—I know, my love —Marisol went on, taking her by the waist—. I hadn’t realized how pretty you had gotten.

Adrián had his eyes fixed on the taut fabric, on the line of thong that showed through and split her cheeks in two perfect halves. He sped up. His cock throbbed inside his fist, thick, hard, slippery. He bit his lip so he wouldn’t moan.

—Oh, thanks, really? —Camila had no idea what was happening behind her back, that her cousin was jerking off while staring at her ass from twelve inches away.

—Of course. You should pass me some of that.

Marisol slid her hands to the base of her niece’s ass and gave it a few light pats to make it bounce. Each pat made the flesh tremble under the dress, and the sight drove Adrián’s rhythm wild. He felt his balls tighten, his cock about to burst, his hand going faster and faster.

—Haha, don’t say that, you’re gorgeous too.

—But not as much as you, sweetheart. Hey, are you done dancing already?

—My legs are numb from sitting.

Marisol gave her son one last look and took Camila’s hands in both of hers.

—Here, give me your hands. Stretch out. But don’t bend your knees.

The girl obeyed, leaning farther and farther forward without bending her legs, revealing a spectacular profile. The dress tightened over her ass until it outlined her crack, the fabric barely covering the rounded bulge of her pussy between her thighs. For Adrián it was too much. He gave himself two, three quick, brutal strokes, squeezing his fist until his cock hurt, and felt his load beginning to rise in his balls. He clenched his teeth to keep from making noise, breathing through his nose. He didn’t make it in time.

—Like that, my love, a few more seconds… There.

—Uff, that felt so good to stretch. Well, see you in a bit —Camila straightened up and walked away, suspecting nothing.

***

Marisol approached her son without sitting down.

—So? Did you take advantage of the way I put your cousin on display?

—Uff, Mom, I loved it. She’s just as hot as you. But I couldn’t finish, it was too little time. My balls are about to explode.

—Oh, what an idiot you are. I had her right in your face. I almost sat her on you.

—I know, but I need more time. I’m right there, Mom, if I don’t cum I’m going to be hurting all night.

—Well, I can’t keep her all night.

—And if… you help me?

Marisol’s eyes went wide.

—Have you lost your mind? How am I supposed to help you? I’m your mother, don’t forget that.

—It wouldn’t be that serious, think about it. You’re wearing the same dress as her, your body’s almost the same. I’m just going to imagine you’re Camila. Put your ass close, Mom. That’s all. Let me finish looking at it.

She took a breath, drank half her glass in one gulp, bit her lip, cracked her fingers. She didn’t know how to answer. And yet, something in her gut had already decided for her. She felt her pussy wet, swollen, throbbing between her legs in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

—Do it fast, before I change my mind.

She turned her back to him and offered him the full view of her backside clinging in that cherry dress. She pushed one hip out to the side, shifting her weight, and her two cheeks split sharply against the fabric.

—Uff, Mom. Honestly, you’re even better than her. You’ve got a bigger ass, rounder. Your cheeks look heavier.

—Hurry up, pervert.

—Can you lean back a little more?

Marisol took two steps back, until her buttocks were inches from her son’s face, pretending to look for someone in the crowd to cover for herself. Under the tablecloth, Adrián moved again. He grabbed his cock once more, now with complete freedom, and started stroking it without stopping. He had it so close to his mother’s ass that he could feel her warmth through the dress.

—God, that feels so good, Mom. What a ass you have, holy shit.

—Mind your mouth, son. Don’t take too long, please, this is already too much.

—Can you lean forward a little? Like my cousin?

Marisol bent forward without flexing her knees, giving him the same image Camila had, but closer, more hers, more forbidden. The dress tightened on her, rose a few inches up her thighs, and Adrián could clearly see the bulge of his mother’s pussy marked through the fabric, the crack of her ass sinking between the two broad cheeks. He quickened the pace, holding back every gasp, his cock sliding in the wet fist.

—For God’s sake, Mom, you’re a thousand times better than her. You’ve got one hell of an ass.

—Do you like what you see? —she asked, turning her head just a little. Her voice had changed, rougher, lower.

—I love your ass, Mom. I’d bite it. I’d fuck it until I split it open.

She straightened again, once more inches from him. A sigh escaped her that she tried to cover with a little cough.

—Mom, a little more, I’m almost there.

—I can’t stay like this all night, people are going to think it’s weird.

—I need to finish, I’m not far off.

Marisol hesitated for a second. Then, in a very low voice:

—Fine. Kiss them.

—Really? —he asked, incredulous.

—Quick, before someone sees you.

Adrián didn’t think twice. He brought his mouth down and started kissing her buttocks over the fabric, barely biting them, sucking them, leaving the dress wet with saliva over the hot flesh of his mother. At the same time, he kept jerking himself under the tablecloth, his cock sliding up and down inside his closed fist, faster and faster.

—Do you like it, you filthy boy? Do you like kissing your mother’s ass?

—I’m obsessed with it, Mom. A thousand times more than Camila’s. It’s tastier, hotter, fuller.

—Then enjoy it. I understand that as a man you have your needs —she said, and there was no rebuke left in her voice. She let out a short moan when he sank his teeth into one cheek.

—Can I touch them? —he asked.

—Do whatever you want to them, but hurry up.

Adrián lifted one hand and caressed that firm, warm ass through the dress, squeezing the flesh, sinking his fingers into the thick buttocks, separating them just enough to feel the space between them. With the other hand he kept stroking his cock, feeling his load already rush toward him.

—Why the change of attitude, Mom?

—I’m not made of stone, son. I have needs too, just like you. It’s been a long time since anyone did anything to me. And that thing you’ve got between your legs… it isn’t normal.

***

Marisol looked one way and the other. No one. Then she did something neither of them expected: she crouched down and went under the table.

—Mom —he whispered, startled.

—Shhh. This is only going to happen once, do you hear me?

Under the tablecloth, kneeling on the floor between her son’s legs, Marisol found Adrián’s cock pointing straight at her face. Thick, hard, throbbing, with a purple head and the skin stretched tight, glistening with pre-cum. She stared at it for a second, mouth slightly open, feeling herself go wet. She licked her red-painted lips, took a deep breath, and grabbed it with her hand. She felt it hot, heavy, alive. She brought it to her mouth and first ran her tongue over the head, tasting the salty fluid that oozed from the tip.

—Mom… what a mouth you have. Thank you.

—Shhh. Keep it down, will you?

She slowly took it in, opening her mouth wide so the head would fit. The cock was so thick it stretched her lips until they hurt. She started sucking carefully, alert to any sound coming from the dance floor, her tongue wrapping the corona, saliva spilling from the corner of her mouth and dripping onto her son’s pants. Adrián pretended to look at his phone, his knuckles white against the edge of the table, while inside he burned. He felt his mother’s hot tongue licking his glans, her lips sealed tight around the shaft, and her throat opening to take a little more each time.

—You’re so good, Mom —he murmured, barely moving his lips—. You suck it so well, fuck.

She sped up, bobbing her head up and down, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. A couple of times she had to stop because of the size, breathing low, breathless. She would take his cock out of her mouth, breathe for a second, wipe a strand of saliva from the back of her hand, and start again, determined, never lifting her head. She licked his balls too, took them into her mouth one by one, sucked them slowly while she worked his cock with her hand, feeling them hard and full, tight against his body. Then she came back up, ran her tongue from the base to the tip, and swallowed him whole again as far as she could.

Adrián clamped his legs together so he wouldn’t drive her head into his hips. Marisol sucked with a devotion she hadn’t shown in years, closing her eyes, moving her head faster and faster, feeling her son’s cock growing even bigger in her mouth, thicker, harder, throbbing on her tongue.

—I’m about to cum, Mom.

Marisol peeked out from under the tablecloth for a second, her lips swollen, shiny with saliva, a thread of liquid hanging from the corner of her mouth.

—I told you: this only happens once. I’m going to swallow it. Go ahead and finish.

And she took him back into her mouth, all the way this time, until the head touched her throat and she let out a muffled moan that vibrated around the shaft. Adrián put a hand on the back of her neck, just a little, feeling her hair between his fingers, and stopped holding back. He began to push his hips upward just a bit, driving it a little deeper into her mouth, while she kept sucking without pause, her tongue working his glans, her lips tight as they moved up and down the shaft.

—There, Mom. There.

He came into her mouth in a long spasm. The first jet hit Marisol straight on the palate, thick, hot, so abundant it filled her mouth at once. She didn’t pull away. She closed her lips around the shaft and kept sucking, swallowing each new spasm while the cock kept pulsing semen onto her tongue. One jet after another, the built-up load of a son who had been on the edge for hours. She took it all without spilling a drop, swallowing spasm after spasm while the music kept playing a few feet away, oblivious to everything. When at last the cock stopped throbbing, she kept it in her mouth for one second longer, sucking the tip slowly to get the very last drop out of it, and only then let it go, running her tongue over the glans one more time before letting it fall, softer but still thick, against her son’s thigh.

A few seconds later she emerged from under the table, fixed her hair, wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, and returned to her seat as if nothing had happened. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks red, and beneath the cherry dress her breathing was still visibly ragged.

—You need to be more careful —she said, folding the napkin calmly—. What you’ve got isn’t normal. Learn to be gentle with girls’ heads. You nearly choked me, son.

—Didn’t you like it, Mom?

She looked at him for a long while, with something new in her eyes.

—I loved it —she admitted softly—. It’s been years since I tasted one like that. Just be more considerate with whoever lends you their mouth. In this case, your mother.

And she drank the last sip of her glass, never taking her eyes off him, knowing perfectly well that this wasn’t going to stay a one-time thing.