Incest/Taboo Nora in the Sun

I felt myself being shaken awake. Somebody's hand was on my shoulder. There was a whispering noise as my eyes opened -- the room was still dark, and above me, I could barely make out my mother's shape as she pushed at my shoulder.

"Don't make any noise," she said, her finger on my lips. "I've already packed your stuff. Are you ready?"

"What?" I sat up and tried to understand. Mom sat on my bed, already dressed and ready to go. She wore a loose, flowing dress, a wide brimmed sun hat from the other day. She looked absolutely radiant, even in the darkness of my room. I looked to the window and realized it was still dark.

"What's going on?" I asked, trying to read what she was getting at.

"I've rented a car," she said, half breathless. Mom was clearly excited, smiling grandly. It reminded me of one special birthday where she woke me up, told me she called school to tell them I was sick, and we spent the day together instead, eating ice cream and playing some of my favorite video games. But today, in Belize, she had much, much bigger plans.

"A car?"

"We're going to Cancun," she said, her voice tense with suppressed joy. "Just you and me. Your father has no idea. I've got the car outside and we're going to make the drive, right now. It'll be a mother and son road trip!"

"I thought Cancun was..." my knowledge base of geography in any foreign country was nonexistent.

"It's only five hours north. Just get your pants on and load up the luggage. Hurry, before your father wakes up." Mom left, her dress swishing behind her. She looked back, winking at me while I rolled out of my bed in a daze.

By the time I got to the car, the cool morning mist of the ocean chilled me. I carried our suitcases and threw them into the back of a nifty little red sedan.

"Ready, mister muscles?" Mom climbed into the driver's seat.

"Did you even sleep last night?" I asked, trying to gauge whether mom was high. I got into the passenger seat anyway, ready to go even if mom was on something. "How did you get this thing so early in the morning?"

"With a cell phone, anything's possible." Mom waved her phone, showing off a new rental app and then started the car.

We took off, the heat running, right as the sun started to crest over the edge of the ocean. The villa disappeared as the roads bent into the main thoroughfare of the village, and then we left even that and onto a stretch of tarmac that went on into the endless jungle. We passed through towns as small as a single shack while occasionally passing through tourist spots lined with thatched huts over lagoons and lakes. Mom set up a mix of old hits from her time in high school and college -- the best of 80's pop blaring as she rolled down the windows to let the color of the morning in.

At some point, we heard a ringtone from mom's phone. She purposefully ignored it until it went quiet, and then I heard a last chime from her voicemail.

"Did we even leave a note?" I asked.

"I don't have to explain a thing to your father," mom said. "He's been such a fucking pain in the ass this entire trip. The only time we've had any fun at all has been when it's just you and me, so why would I even let him know where we're going?"

I shrugged, trying to make sense of it. "But isn't he going to get worried?"

Mom laughed and I felt the stupidity of the question manifest in my cheeks. "I don't think dad will care once he gets a few drinks in him."

The highway stretched on into jungle. We filled up on gas at a little convenience store setup and mom passed me a hot breakfast torta while she sipped on a chocolatey coffee. As we started the car mom's phone went off again. She rolled her eyes and shoved it into the glove compartment.

The drive went on, and on. We started to talk about the future. About the jobs I wanted, about my dreams, about the kind of house I wanted someday. Mom kept asking me to go on, the expand on my hopes for the future, but the more I thought about the kind of house I wanted, the more I envisioned just living at home and seeing mom every day.

I wanted to tell her about it. I wanted to even tell her that I wanted to take her out on dates. But she seemed so set on hearing me talk about my own dreams, the things I wanted, to keep talking about different places, different cars, different people, goals. I wanted to somehow connect them to her but the more I went on, the more I kept halting and keeping myself from bringing those dreams into contact with my own mother's life.

A weird feeling rose in my stomach. It was a mysterious ache. I thought of the vacation ending in a couple days, of the flight back, of returning to college. Mom would be stuck again with dad. I'd be stuck in a party college. Then a career. An existence as a man on my own. Life would go on.

"Don't let anything keep you back, baby. Take the life you want, study hard, meet good girls. Don't get them pregnant too early," mom said, her voice firm as she sipped at her coffee. It made her seem like a cutthroat businesswoman -- the coffee, the dress, the way she leaned back in the chair, dispensing common sense. I felt small again, lectured. She was so pretty in the rising light of the sun filtering through the jungle around us. "You're a man now, aren't you Brett?" She asked me so firmly while we drove.

My mother, my mentor. I nodded, trying to keep from getting sad while my mother gave me a talk about life that I didn't quite get from my dad.

"You'll call on the weekends, won't you?" Her last question came completely out of left field, entirely different from the life advice theme she chose for the first leg of the drive. Her lips were pressed together. Soft. Concerned.

"Of course," I replied, eager.

"And you'll visit for all the holidays?"

"Absolutely." I nodded, trying to make sure she could tell I wanted nothing more than to be with her every possible chance I had.

"And you'll marry a good girl, and you'll be really good to her, and you'll make her happy, right?" There was something strained in mom's voice.

I stared at her, while she kept her gaze on the road, hidden behind the dark layers of her sunglasses. I couldn't answer. What could I possibly tell her? That I wanted to marry a girl that was much, much younger than her?

Except, if I did say that, it would have made sense. But it didn't.

Mom drove silently on while I stewed in the feeling that it would be wrong of me to go find any other girl to be with.

"I guess," I said, unsure.

Mom glanced my way, analyzing my tone. Her hand went out and patted my thigh. "I shouldn't be putting all this life pressure on you, baby. I'm sorry." She sighed. "You're still so young, after all. Hardly a baby."

I reached over and pinched her thigh. Mom gave a slight yelp and smiled.

"I'm a man now, in case you forgot about last night," I said, trying to deepen my voice as naturally as I could."

Mom licked her lips. "Mmm. That's right. My son, a big, sexy man." Her breath dragged in. "Fuck, honey, I don't know where you learned to touch a girl like that with your pretty cock, but it really filled me up." She started to hum with the thought.

"I'll do it again if you want," I offered, trying my best to flirt.

"Please do, honey. You made mommy's pussy feel so, so good." Mom was fully smiling now. We were back to excited bliss -- to the open road, to the kind of adventure that didn't have complicated questions. "You're driving once we hit the next stop, by the way."

"Whatever you want, mom." I meant it. If I could stretch time, if I could afford a forever vacation, if I had the power to always make her smile, I'd use it, no reservations.

Mom was now singing the melody to the music mix under her breath. Her face was relaxed under her sunglasses.

In the light of the sun of that Mexican highway, I wanted nothing more than to capture that instant, and to live it, forever and ever.

We stopped at a roadside restaurant and grabbed some more food. This time I held a coffee, feeling big. Mom threw me the keys as we walked back to the car, and I turned it on, feeling the rumble, the control over the car. It really was sporty -- the dials looked very different, much more satisfying now that I sat directly in front of them. There was a mysterious set of buttons on the dash that I only now noticed.

"What kind of car is this?" I asked.

"No idea," mom said as she slid into the passenger seat. "An expensive one." We pulled out and back onto the highway, the scent of food filling the cabin.

I stared at the buttons for a minute as a little icon showed a car without a top. I looked up at the car ceiling, noting clips along the joints, hardly believing I actually missed this through the first hours of the drive. "Mom," I said, trying to keep cool. "This is a convertible." The highway started to blend past us as I picked up speed. I grabbed my sunglasses, anticipating the kind of wind this thing would pick up.

"Oh." Mom's surprised acknowledgement seemed very small. She started to laugh, now appreciating what we were sitting in. "I had no idea."

"I'm opening it." I flicked the clips along the sides of the car, reaching past her. The mechanisms gave a satisfying click. The button on the dashboard lit up. It was ready. I made brief eye contact with mom through her dark sunglasses. She gave a wide, wide smile.

I pushed the button.

The canopy suddenly flexed back -- a consistent motor sound and the sudden roar of wind flying through the car -- mom's hair flickered all around her as she gave a squeal, as if she were a teen riding in a fast car for the first time. The hood of the car settled behind us, and the full speed and wind of the highway blasting against my face, chilling my hair, while the light of the sun rose steadily over us and I felt its heat directly on my skin.

Mom's arms went up. I cranked the volume on her music. She was laughing.

We passed through a little town called Tulum, slowing down as we drifted past tourist cafes and then sped up again as it turned back into jungle. It was the last leg -- we'd have endless miles of beach on our right as we would drift north up to Cancun on the seaside. The sun was now shining directly downward, and the heat was getting through the wind and scorching at our skin.

I hit the button and the canopy closed up. Mom was leaning back, looking out at the ocean and taking it all in. Signs clued us in that we were getting closer to Cancun.

"You having fun?" I asked.

"More than ever," my mother replied, her right hand under her chin. Her left went out and pressed along my thigh. Immediately, I felt my cock rise and push against the inside of my pants. Mom looked, pulling her sunglasses down. "Oh, honey, really? In front of your mother?"

"I'm riding in a convertible with a beautiful girl," I excused myself. "Not sure what you want me to do here."

Mom smiled as she tried to think of something clever to say. Her voice changed. It dripped with seductive lust. "I could take care of that for you, you know." Her hand pressed up my hip and her fingers pushed against the head of my cock. "So you don't embarrass yourself later."

"I've seen this porn before," I joked.

"You haven't lived it, baby." Mom took off her sunglasses and raised her hands behind her head, using a tie to bring her hair back. Then she unbuckled her seatbelt. I glanced at the dial and realized we were going over sixty miles an hour, and my mother, who was always, always a stickler about safety, let the seatbelt fly up and off of her ample chest.

She leaned toward me, her lips brushing against my shoulder. "Do you have any idea what road head is?"

"No," I lied.

"Let mommy show you," she said, leaning further, tracing both hands over my junk, her pale white fingers collecting my zipper, undoing my pants button. "Mommy's got to take care of her baby boy so he won't get embarrassed." My cock slipped free, coming out through the hole in the front of my underwear. Mom's fingers wrapped around it, and I felt the soft heat in her palm as she massaged my dick, up and down. "I'd be a bad, bad mother if I didn't take care of this problem for him, right now."

The humor of the situation disappeared as fast as my hard on increased. My mother's lips that would have yelled at me about a seat belt a few years ago were now opening. I felt a soft breath on my cock, saw Mom's sun-kissed hair decorating my peripheral vision as I tried to keep focused on the highway. I felt a sudden, wet sensation flicking across the head of my dick. Mom was licking at me, wetting the tip of my cock with her warm, soft tongue.

"Keep driving, baby," she said. Her hair shimmered as some of the light haloed through the windows.

Then I felt something wet, hot, soaking over the head of my cock. Mom had taken the first inch of me into her mouth -- and I heard her humming, savoring the taste of my flesh. She moved down, the slick saliva inside her pretty mouth swirling over my shaft. As she took in my length between her lips, I groaned and felt my focus drifting. I tried to refocus, to keep all of my attention on the road, but mom started to move her head up and down. I saw her shining hair bobbing above my waist, felt the slipperiness of her tongue. Felt her moaning on my cock as she licked and sucked at me like I was a tasty piece of meat.

She slowed down, tasting me. It wasn't fast enough for me though -- my speed on the highway increased, and my cock wanted to thrust in and out of something hot and wet. I took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for the knot of hair that she had tied up. I grabbed it and mom made a sighing noise as I forced her head down, the wetness of her mouth taking in all of my length.

"Mmm," she made a moaning noise as I pushed her head down, pulled her back up by her hair, guiding her along my cock while she suckled on it. I felt one of her hands smoothing along the inside of my thigh, lightly touching my balls through the cotton of my underwear.

"Oh, fuck, mom..." I moaned as she sucked, pushing her head down, her tongue sliding along my length. I felt the back of her throat bumping against the head. She pushed a little harder, making a noise while I shivered, trying to refocus again on the highway. There were three lanes at this point. I saw a car pulling up in my peripheral vision while I pushed mom's mouth over my cock. It pulled up along our right side, moving past at a steady pace. The pace of cruise control.

I was half certain the people in that car could see what was going on, if they wanted to. I pushed mom's head down until I felt the action of her throat. Glimpsed off to my side, where the people in the car drove on, entirely unaware. They passed by us while mom's mouth sucked on me.

Another car pulled up to the left. Mom's head bobbed as I tried to keep control. It felt so hot -- the danger of road head, my mom making noises of tasty enjoyment as her spit coated all of me, as I reveled in the wetness of her mouth, as I felt the heat building in my core. Mom moved faster and faster as the other car pulled up on our left side. I started twitching my hips up, trying to time it for a deeper sensation.

A younger couple was sitting in the front seats of an SUV. The woman in the passenger seat was almost at my immediate left -- she must have been twenty or so. She turned lazily to see what we looked like and I saw her mouth drop as she saw my mother's head shifting up and down, faster, while I thrust my hips up, trying to fuck at her mouth.

The lady and I made eye contact. She glared at me and started saying something to the guy next to her -- but I could tell he started laughing. I gunned the accelerator and sped ahead, feeling the rise in my core as mom's mouth started to bring something up -- a hot pressure that built at the base of my cock.

I was getting closer, but it wasn't enough. I needed more. I reached over my mother and gathered some of her dress in my hand, and pulled it towards me. Mom's form suddenly revealed itself as I pulled up her dress, and underneath the flowing white, she was wearing a cute little white thong that slipped between the mounds of her ass and disappeared. It was a high waisted thong -- the kind that perfectly complimented a dress like hers, and her beautiful, pale body, barely tinged with pink and gold from the sun, was on display for me while I broke the speed laws in a different country.

The sight of her body was helping -- I felt the power and heat surging up my rod as mom sucked at it harder, letting my hips and the direction of my hand in her hair work the action of fucking her mouth.

We were coming up on a few cars ahead of us. I slipped into the empty lane and we blazed past a truck on my mom's side. Without a doubt, they would have seen her, her soft, white flesh on full display in her window as she bent over my seat with cock in her mouth. Her ass swept from side to side as she put her effort into it -- and I could almost see in the rear view mirror the gaping stares of the people in the truck we passed.

I felt it building and pushed her face onto me harder. Mom was moaning -- at that instant I realized that she was only propped up on one elbow over my thigh, her other hand was between her legs as she touched herself, her fingers squirting inside of her while she tasted the precum that must have been flowing upward and over her tongue. She was starting to shudder while she sucked on me, her moans adding a new dimension of feeling to me as I got closer, and closer.

I was at the edge.

"Fuck, mom!" The speed dial was at ninety. We were passing another set of cars -- mom's lovely hips swung back and forth as I felt something surging deep in my pelvis, as I felt the cum rising, pumping. We passed another car. Some lucky son of a bitch could easily see my mom's fingers deep inside her in the blur as I felt the orgasm breaking upward. Then I heard mom's ringtone again, blaring from the glove box. Dad was calling.

She bore down, making a soft moaning sound as I saw her arm push under her, her head pushing so low that it forced my cock into her throat -- and I came, hard, bucking against her face, feeling the shotgun action of my balls shooting my semen up and into her throat. I felt my dad's wife -- my mother swallowing, moaning with pleasure as my cum poured into her mouth, some of it slipping downward and around her lips, down the smoothness of her tongue as she sucked it upward. Her hair was still in my hands and I pushed her down, feeling the head pressing against the back of her throat while it vibrated with her noise as I emptied everything I had into my mother's pretty, soft mouth.

Then she pulled her head up, gasping, my cum dripping from her lips in streaks, and she slid back into her chair, pulling her dress down, trying to catch the fluid as it poured from her. She looked off to the side and could see in her mirror the stunned stares of the guys we had just rocketed past, before we blazed far out of view, going a speed that could definitely get us arrested.

I kept my foot on the accelerator while my cock still throbbed in pleasure, the last drops rising out of me while mom caught her breath, red faced, wiping her mouth with the napkins we had from breakfast.

"You're a little more daring than I thought," mom teased, her voice shaking. "Maybe you are more of a boy than I expected."

"Maybe," I admitted, trying to calm myself. I kept at the speed we were at for a few minutes until I was sure that nobody would be able to catch up to us and notice us, and then let go of the accelerator so that we wouldn't run into any cops as we approached Cancun.

Mom was breathing, hard, excited. "I've never done anything like that," she admitted.

I zipped up my pants one handed. "You've never ridden in a convertible either, have you?"

"It's not like you have until your mother went out and rented one," she reminded me, poking my shoulder. "Also, you had to drive my minivan for years in high school. I'll never let you forget it." She drank some water and pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste from her purse, trying to get the taste of my cum out of her mouth. "You really did a number on my taste buds, kid," she said, toothpaste foaming along her lips.

"By the way," she added after she finished brushing, "what we're doing here, this is the absolute limit."

"What?"

"You've come in your mother's mouth, Brett," she said, as a matter of fact. "You won't be cumming anywhere else inside me. Do you understand?"

"Oh." I felt a little wave of disappointment putting a damper on everything. It was like the slowing of the car matched my mood.

"Listen," mom put her hand on my leg. "This is a lot of fun. More fun than I've had in a long, long time. If ever, honestly. And it's not like we're stopping." Mom pursed her lips, trying to word this as clearly for me as possible. "But you need to understand that I am your mother, and what we're doing, it's so, so crazy. We had sex -- you had to pull out, this is a giant, illegal mess, Brett. You're my son, I shouldn't have even jerked you off a few days ago."

We went quiet as the car settled into the speed limit.

"I'll be... a bit of a whore for you," Mom said, her mouth unused to saying the word, 'whore.' "But I've got a very, very serious line here. It's more than moral, do you understand? Can you imagine if... if you got me pregnant?"

I couldn't imagine it. It really was insane. I could see her point but the idea was so stunning that I didn't really know how to respond.

"Understand, Brett?" Mom was back to her motherly self, really confirming that I knew where she was coming from.

It was really weird, but my disappointment was immeasurable. "Yeah."

Mom glared at me.

"Yes, mom," I said reluctantly. "I understand."

I didn't want to.

I really, really, really wanted to cum inside my mother.

I smiled sheepishly, trying to look cool while Cancun started to appear in flashes along the sides of the road. Tourist attractions, a zoo, hotels and motels from thatched water huts to blocky, adobe complexes. The names of the businesses we passed flitted in and out of English, names like Paradise Spa blended with Casa de Vino Anejo, and the speed limit brought us down, down, into a halting movement that timed with the stop lights.

We pulled into downtown, where the pearly exteriors of businesses stood alongside tall hotels while people filtered through the base, tourists with darkened skin, more six packs of beer than cell phones.

"Where are we staying?" I asked. Mom pulled herself out of some reverie and pointed along the right toward a highway sign that said "Isla Mujeres."

"Just follow those signs, Brett. It's a surprise."

I shrugged as I turned off according to her instructions. "Alright."

The streets suddenly lost all of their hotels. Strips of green ran up and down the sides of the road -- a broad park spread out to our left, dotted with palms and pools as we headed east, until we hit a straight wall of apartment buildings in a deep orange cream color. The apartments then disappeared, as fast as they arrived. To our left, broad, expansive complexes, endless mowed grass, and waving palms started to spread out, and beyond, we could see the ocean again as we cruised south along what I realized was a long, thin peninsula that carried more luxury hotel resort per square foot than anything I had ever seen.

"Woah," I marveled at the slick, minimalist modern buildings that stood atop expansive grass grounds that melted into the ocean, multicolored canopies dotting the sand line, flashes of dozens of pools interspersed between the resort buildings.

"It's this one," mom said, grinning, as we pulled up to an entrance lined with cool white monolithic stones.

"This one..." I stared at a bronze gilded and backlit sign and at the immaculately trimmed grass that sprinkled with fresh water and the warm smell of chlorine. "This one looks expensive. How'd you reserve a place like this?"

"Credit cards, Brett," mom laughed at me. "Someday, you'll be a big enough boy to use them too."

We pulled into the parking lot and got out, our legs tight from the journey and from our speed-themed sexual game. While mom checked in, I carried all of our luggage, acting as porter for the both of us. People looked us up and down -- not only the staff that wondered at the beautiful woman in the sunglasses, but also the much, much younger guy that carried everything for her.

It occurred to me that out here, without my dad as a barometer, people would make an assumption about us that wasn't entirely true, but at the same time they would also assume that we weren't related to begin with.

It was exciting.

Mom led the way once she finished checking in, chuckling to herself. "You know," she said, the smile apparent in her voice, "they asked me if they should spread rose petals, if we had any special days coming up. Like an anniversary. Or a honeymoon."

"For us?"

Mom's hips swayed seductively as she moved ahead of me. She looked back, laughing at me. "They said, 'we hope you make some unforgettable memories here.' All this, as if we were lovers, or something. Imagine that."

"Wow. Yeah."

We popped into an elevator. Mom watched my chest and shoulders as I hefted our things. She bit her lip, deep in thought. "You know," she said, "I wouldn't mind if we pretended something like that."

"Oh?"

"You may be my son, but it's not like anyone knows." Her small white hand tucked along her neck. "Oh Brett. Are we crazy?"

I had no idea what to say. I had just cum into my own mother's mouth half an hour ago -- and we were ignoring all of the calls from my dad -- her husband. It was as if we really had run away like lovers despite being more related than most lovers could be.

"We could be crazy," mom added, her smile a teasing, mischievous grin. It was clear she was cooking something else up in her mind -- something to add to our vacation. She leaned forward, kissed me on the lower lip, and let her tongue move along the corner of my mouth as she closed her eyes. I kissed her back.

The elevator doors opened, and mom pulled away in full view of some staff and guests that were waiting on our floor. I saw their gaze pulling away from us as a series of mental calculations went on in their faces as they compared my mother's age to mine.

Mom's hand boldly smoothed over my pelvis as she stepped out. "Come on, kid," she said, her eyes sexy and dark. "If this sugar momma arrangement is going to work I need you to hurry it up. I won't wait for my massage."

Some of the guests suppressed smiles at mom's implication while my face lit up, hot, as I stepped out and tried to duck out of sight. Once we rounded the corner I had the presence of mind to get what my mom was doing. She looked like she was having fun, occasionally turning to watch my red, embarrassed face.

When we got inside our room, mom sat on the bed. The only bed in the room. It glowed in the light filtering through the curtains. "I have a request," she said, slowly. She crossed her legs, letting her lightly tanned thigh shine over the white bed. "You're willing to do something for your mother, aren't you?"

"Sure," I said, ready for whatever she needed.

"What I said in the elevator... about you being a sugar baby," she leaned back, pushing her breasts up, drawing her knee upward. "I'd like to play that game." I understood where she was coming from, but mom explained, her voice seductive and slow. "I'll be your sugar momma. You'll do what I say in public. I'll pretend I'm lavishing all of this on my new, shiny toy. Are you willing to be mommy's pretty new toy?"

The idea was hilarious to me. But at the same time, I figured it would be a lot of fun to pretend that my mother wasn't my mother at all -- that she was a milf, a cougar who picked me up and whisked me to Mexico to have her all to herself. "Alright," I said, looking at mom differently. She really was her own woman, even though it was strange to think of her as anything but my mom. This woman had done my laundry for me for almost two decades -- she selflessly provided a clean, safe home, and picked up jobs on the side to make sure I could get things like braces or the best possible Christmas presents.

And now she was asking me to be her toy -- her luxury. "Sure. You deserve it, Mom," I added.

"That's Nora, to you," she said, her knee drifting to the side, the smooth, pale insides of her legs artfully revealing themselves under the cotton of her dress. I felt myself getting hard again, even though I had released myself in her mouth just an hour ago. She looked at me, toying with me. "Actually, I want you to call me something else." Her lips pressed softly together while she came up with something. "Mrs. Robinson."

That was definitely not our last name. But mom was trying something new. As if we weren't related. As if she were somebody I maybe knew in a professional or academic way. As if she were my professor, or my boss, or the wife of one of those. Mom traced a finger along the inside of her thigh. I looked at her hungrily.

"Just Mrs. Robinson?"

"Only Mrs. Robinson," mom decided with finality. "And don't you forget it. Or I'll have to ground you again."

"Alright."

"How about, yes, ma'am?" Mom started to laugh as her fingers pressed into the smoothness between her legs. Her thighs moved back together, and mom turned, angling the curves of her ass for me to observe.

I nodded obediently, transfixed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Do you know what I want you to do for me, little boy?" She whispered, pushing her fingers between her legs. "Come here."

I stepped forward, approaching the bed, ready. I was prepared to eat her out, to service her with my cock, to give her what she needed between her legs. "What do you want me to do, Mrs. Robinson?" I carefully moved my cock to the side and prepared to unzip my pants.

Mom leaned back, pulling me close. I felt my cock pressing against her leg, while she shifted, pushing her cunny against the hardness. Her lips went up to my cheek, giving it a soft kiss, and then moved up to my ear. She whispered while I eagerly listened.

"Go get me some more towels and some massage oil. You're going to give me a massage, and in return, I'll take you to dinner." Her lashes batted at me. Mom was clearly set on getting as much of a treat out of me as she could.

Disappointed, my cock throbbing, I pulled myself up.

"If you need money," she said, drawing out her words as if she were the richest woman in the world, "I have cash in my purse. Thank you, doll." She stretched out on the bed, smiling at me, watching as I sullenly left with a fistful of pesos.

The staff at the front desk didn't take long at all in getting me towels. I had to buy massage oil from a store inside that also sold bathing suits and sunglasses. I figured mom would probably want to drop by here at some point -- it had an elegant variety of the latest styles -- each one something I could imagine her wearing, from bold reds to sea greens to dotted whites and sheer blacks. I wanted to surprise mom with one, but she only gave me enough for the oil. And maybe it was better for my dignity that I didn't buy them, but that didn't stop me from wanting to pick something sexy for her.

There was one particular swimsuit that caught my eye -- it was extremely thin, extremely skimpy, barely a sliver of black cloth to cover nipples, more string than actual bathing suit. It would create a crisscrossed network of lines for anyone tanning in it. It was nearly pornographic in how little cloth was actually a part of it.

While checking out, I imagined mom wearing it for longer than I could really control myself. My own mother would go far, far beyond sheer beauty -- she would be a creature of pure sex, decorated by only ounces of string over her nakedness. I saw the lady at the check stand shake her head disapprovingly as I left. I couldn't imagine how that lady would look if she knew I was thinking about my own mom. I finished salivating over the thought and wiped my mouth and left, trying to figure out when I could bring her down here and convince her to buy it.

I was half certain that the poor passengers in the elevator might have gotten a glimpse of what I was tenting. I got back to the room, trying to keep my erection under control.

There was a new addition to the center of the suite. One of the staff must have brought up a massage table. Mom sat on the edge, wearing only a bathrobe. Her arms were crossed around her body, her gaze only for me. The window sashes were open, allowing light and a breeze to swirl through the room. The sound of the surf was quiet outside.

"They're fast here, aren't they?" Mom noted, her fingers trailing on the massage table. "What do you think?"

"I think you're right, Mrs. Robinson," I said, trying to stay in the role.

"I was looking forward to this service a little more, though," she whispered. Her hands went to the edges of the bathrobe. Her soft, pale fingers wrapped around the edges. I could see that the tie wasn't in a knot around her. It wasn't going to take much for all of her to be revealed. "I want you to... ease some of my tensions. Can you do that for me?" She lightly pulled on one edge of the bathrobe, exposing a sliver of her chest. The rosy nipple of her right breast appeared for me, a warm color in the lightness of my mother's skin. She stared at me as if she really were a different woman -- as if she weren't the one who gave birth to me, as if she were a seductress who had picked me up and flown me halfway around the world as her plaything.

"Absolutely," I said, my mouth dry.

"I don't even know what to call you," Mom said. She cocked her head to the side. "It's hard enough knowing you're my little boy. What am I supposed to call you if we're playing this game? Help me out, Brett."

I was at a loss for words.

"Do I call you, cutie? Young man? 'Hey you'?" She smiled, pulling at her robe, baring a full, heavy breast. "I give up. Did you bring the massage oil?"

"I did," my voice barely came out.

Mom straightened, running her hand through her hair, bringing it around her front. It draped across her chest, hiding some of the skin as she turned and bent over, allowing me to observe the lovely shape of her bottom underneath the bathrobe. She drew her arms apart, pulling at the edges of her robe... and it fell to the floor.

Her soft skin, tinged with the sun, touched with bikini lines that revealed an impossibly fragile paleness was so glorious, so delicious. Her hips smoothed around, the curve of her bottom plump and dreamily fuckable.

My mother turned her head and watched my reaction as she stretched out, pulling herself over the massage table, settling onto it, a flash of moist pink at the intersection of her legs, the curve of her bottom even more accentuated now that she lay face down. Her breasts were tucked under her chest, her hair drifted over her eyes. She looked at me through her locks, waiting for me.

"You look so hungry, but we have an arrangement, boy toy," she said, hiding her smile behind her soft shoulders. "Massage first. Then we'll get dinner."

I poured the lotion into my hands, reliving the moment where I first applied tanning oil to my lovely mother's skin. This time, mom waited for it, watching me, eager to feel my hands. I rubbed it through my fingers, allowing the excess to drip all over my mother's back.

Like cum.

I had already cum on my mother's face over the last few days, but I realized I wanted very, very badly to take her from behind again, and to pull out and spray my cum all over her back, just like on the couch last night. The sight of the oil alone was enough to send me into a deep, heavily urgent horny space.

My cock stood at attention under my shorts. Mom looked at it from behind her arms and I heard a soft laugh. "Not so fast. I hope you realize just how far I want you to go for now."

"What?"

"Massage my back, kid," mom made a humming sound, the cool scent of her perfume rising around me. "Put those muscles to use."

I poured some extra oil over her back. Mom gasped as she felt the cool slickness go up her spine, splashing over her ass. I then pushed my hands into her skin, and mom gave a soft moan as I pressed at the tension I felt under her sexy, soft skin. The more I pushed, the more I slid my hands up and down her body, the less tense she grew in her back, but the more tense her noise seemed to get.

Mom's breathing grew heavy. I slid my hands up to the back of her neck and gripped it tightly, feeling her neck muscles relax while her eyes flicked open to watch my cock straining against my pants.

"Oh, you look so yummy sometimes," she almost whispered, her eyes on my dick as I moved back and forth to massage her more deeply. "I almost want to suckle you, baby..." Mom's gasps were intense -- almost as strong as when she and I fucked on the armchair last night.

"Almost?" My fingers were slick -- so was her lovely neck, so was all of her smooth, curved back.

Mom let out a moan as I pushed my fingers, slipping along her lower back, holding her as if I were mounting her from behind. I pushed my cock against the firmness of her bottom and felt the shock of pleasure in me as I pushed against her side. Mom opened her mouth and let herself go, making sounds of pleasurable relaxation as I worked at the muscles in her back, plying her gently, witnessing with my fingers the sensation of her body as it smoothed out.

It occurred to me that I had only been paying attention to half of her. My fingers didn't need to be limited to her back.

I could feel much, much more if I pressed. Outside... and in... and down.

Her lower half looked so delightful. My hands slipped down, pressed along the base of her spine, spread out, smoothing as I widened my hands to grab her plush, lovely round bottom. Mom's gorgeous ass made smooth, firm indentations as my fingers sank in. She shifted, humming, feeling my fingers along her nakedness. I wanted to look closer. I wanted to go deeper. Between her legs, was a soft, secret, wet place. My mother's eye peeked from over her shoulder at me, waiting as I licked my lips, seeking the spot she kept hidden.

"I don't know, Brett..." She commented. "You shouldn't be looking there. I'm your mother, aren't I?"

I hooked my thumbs under each cheek. Pulled outward. Her ass was so firm, so soft, an impossible dichotomy of feminine perfection that meant I could push deep, that meant she was truly a woman. My thumbs pushed in, pulled farther out, revealing her warm, wet pussy lips, a perfect pink slit. I heard mom's breath pulling in as I explored her, as her most private place opened, only for me. I went further, and her labia drew apart, and my mother's cunt gaped for me, already wet, already inviting, looking so, so moist and sweet.

Like home.

I felt my cock throbbing against the table, took in the scent of my mother's heady musk, was completely aware of mom's gaze on me, watching me, waiting to see what I would do. "Remember, Brett," my mom said quietly, playfully. "This is an arrangement. It's not for you to do whatever you want."

"I know," I said, trying to mean it.

Then a ringtone came from mom's purse. We stopped, both looked toward it. It rang, and rang, and rang, the ringtone mom chose specifically for dad's contact singing over and over. The more it played, the darker the mood in the room became. Mom suddenly felt tense under me.

Her arms shifted underneath her. She pushed herself up, and my fingers slipped out from the soft place under her bottom. She turned around, lifting one knee, eyeing me. Her taut breasts lightly pulled to the sides, her pink nipples looking like candies. She looked concerned again.

"Brett..." mom said, sounding worried, "what are we doing?"

I didn't have an answer.

"I know I just gave you a big talk about boundaries... but I've also been thinking. We're drawing boundaries on something we've gone so, so far on already. Too far. To be honest with you," she began, "I've been having so, so much fun over the last few days that I haven't been honest with myself. About the fact that I've been sexually playing with my own son."

"Is this about dad?" I asked, sensing where this was going.

Mom mulled it over. The light played across her chest, the smell of the ocean breezing through. "I just don't know... What are we doing? What have we done? I know we've gone too far, but I don't want to admit it to myself. I want it to go away sometimes. Be honest with me, Brett." She looked at me with a pleading gaze. "Have we gone too far?"

I knew we did.

Mom stared at me softly while I felt my erection leave. Her soft lips, the ones that had held my cock between them while she sucked on me earlier that day, turned slightly downward as she fell deeper and deeper into thinking about everything we had done -- all the forbidden barriers we crossed.

"Brett..." she tried to sound it out clearly, but her voice was breaking. "We had sex, Brett. You're my son. I'm your mother -- I gave birth to you! What we did was so, so wrong, and we're not even... we're just acting like it's a sexy game. What are we playing at? Are we pretending that any of this is right? That it's even a little okay?"

A difficult question rose within me. "Do you want to stop?"

Mom touched at her lips, standing, leaning over to pick up her robe, the loveliness of her full breasts pulling downward. She wrapped it around herself. Hid everything away. "I don't know," she said, quietly. Mom came up to me and put a hand on my arm. She looked at me with those dark, dark eyes. Struggling.

"I... like it, Brett."

"I like it too. I love it," I said, trying to reassure her.

"You... love it?" Mom bit her lip. My mother looked up at me as if she were a young, shy girl in high school. This woman, who was in the fullness of her sexual prime, more experienced than I in every possible way, looked into my eyes with deep uncertainty, looking to me for answers, hoping for some semblance of certainty. "Is it weird that I love the feeling of my own son's cock? That I actually... like the way it tastes?"

We both knew it was very, very weird, and very, very wrong.

"Do you like being inside your mother? Making her feel good?" Mom asked me, trying to keep her composure, drunk on the taboo, unsettled, turned on against her every sense of what was right. I saw her hand setting between her legs, her fingers pushing upward, subtle, as if she were trying to do it in a way I wouldn't notice.

"It's the hottest fucking thing in the world," I answered.

My mother took a deep breath and repeated what I said. "Hottest... in the world..." Her gaze grew a little sharper. Her chin lifted. I could tell she was making decisions -- the look was the exact same as all the times where she had to come up with a creative way to ground me in response for some dumb thing I did. It was a look of determination, of a plan -- meant specifically for her son.

"I want to go dancing," she said, her voice firm. Her eyes were decided. "And then," she took a deep breath, "you're going to fuck me like I'm the only woman left on Earth, whether I'm your mother or not."​