Massively Taboo 50

by Izzy Slam

  I tripod my legs and lower my body, putting my tits directly in front of his mouth. He immediately cups my mounds and starts working his tongue over my aching nipples, licking, biting, sucking, and sending tingles of pleasure rippling to my pussy.

  “Would my boy like to have an orgasm while suckling mommy’s tits?”

  He groans and nods his head hard and fast, and I decide he really has earned a good cum. Actually, he’s earned several. And I plan to help him with that.

  I spit in my hand and grasp his length, leaning forward to get a good grip. His lips part and he points his tongue over my hard bud before flicking up and down.

  “Oooh, yeah,” I purr.

  I stroke him with a tight grip, using my thumb to massage the little indentation underneath his crown. He huffs as I use my other hand to tickle his balls, and they knot up beneath my fingers. His length turns hard and hot, then twitches as he releases.

  “Nnnnnnggggnnnn…” he moans, tugging my nipple into his mouth and letting his eyes close.

  “Good boy, cumming on mommy’s hand.”

  I palm the head, catching most of his jizz as it pulses out, one burst after another. Meanwhile, his little tongue is frantically moving from one tit to the other, swirling around my nipples and making my pussy cream.

  I look down and see a long line of my juices trailing to the floor. I point his cock in my direction, and another burst shoots out, landing on my thigh.

  “So sexy, sweetie.”

  He presses my tits together and suckles both nipples at once, making me delirious with lust.

  “That cock of yours better stay hard, young man. You still have one wet pussy and one throbbing asshole to pound.”

  “Yes, mother,” he says, his voice tight and raspy. “Thank you for allowing me to cum.”

  I press my lips to his. “You’re welcome, my good boy. Now lie down so mommy can ride your dick.”

  He scoots back quickly, his rod still as hard and long as ever, but this time his balls have dropped down a bit, making them look less painful. I crawl on top of him, letting my tits dangle above his face. I loved the way his lips felt on my luscious mounds, and I tell him as much.

  “Suckle my tits while you fuck your mother, darling.”

  He’s on my boobs like a honeybee on a wildflower. I slide my cunt over his length, a long breath escaping my lungs as he pushes in to the hilt.

  “Fuck yessss,” I groan, working my hips in an up and down fashion once he’s inside of me.

  Being the good little submissive stepson that he is, Jonathan licks every inch of my boobs while holding them still. I arch my back and purr softly.

  “Now, pound my pussy with that cock, baby boy.”

  Without missing a beat, my stepson does as I ask, slapping into me with fury and pounding my cunt so hard, I cum three times, back to back. And I want the same thing from my slave boy.

  “Cum in my pussy, baby. But just enough that you can stay hard after.”

  He grunts as he slams deep, sinking his teeth around the circumference of my hard little bud. I feel his cock pulse as it empties, making me cum yet again. He grunts and moans, flicking his magical tongue back and forth over my tender tissue. His cock grinds along my walls with each contraction, and I can tell that I’m milking out drop after drop.

  “Mm, now my asshole, baby. Find it and fuck it.”

  This time, he releases a growl, reaching down to grip his cock and point it at my asshole. I have to lie down flat as he enters me, his head stretching my tight hole so fucking blissfully.

  With the side of my face pressed to his chest, I reach behind me and grab my ass, pulling my cheeks apart as he dives in.

  “Deeper, sweetheart. Mommy needs that hole drilled and filled.”

  He pushes in further, the fullness in my rear putting a smile on my face. Once I feel the familiar popping as his crown slips past my ring, I sit up and move his hands aside.

  “Why don’t you just relax and focus on cumming in my asshole, baby boy.”

  His mouth drops open and his eyes roll to the back of his head as I lean back and ride his dick. God, his size is perfect—long enough that I can rock my hips in long sweeps, but not so thick that it hurts.

  “Oh yeah, mommy could fuck this dick every day. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, mother. Oh, fuck yes.”

  “I’m going to cum on your dick, then I want you to cum, too.”

  He huffs his approval as I dig my claws into the sides of his thighs. I bounce up and down, the weight of my tits bouncing adding fuel to the fire. His cock rubs along my puckered entrance, igniting a raging fire inside of me. My ring clenches, and I topple over the edge, suddenly experiencing the most intense anal orgasm of my life.

  And all while fucking my submissive stepson who, before tonight, was so troubled.

  Not anymore. Mother fixed that problem.

  I grind my pelvis as I ride his shaft, watching that look of euphoria wash over his face.

  “You can cum, now, little boy. Cum in mommy’s ass. Give me a good load.”

  His growls nearly shake the walls, his hands gripping the sheets as he empties inside of me. My asshole quivers through another orgasm, one I’m sure is heightening his pleasure. I reach between his legs and fondle his balls as they sit under my ass, all squished but hard to the touch.

  Sometime, maybe later tonight, I’ll reward my son by licking his balls until he cums.

  When he drops from my bowels, I scoot off the bed, walk around to the side, and lean down to kiss him on the forehead.

  “Go ahead and take your time recovering, darling. Job hunting is officially off the schedule, but I have a busy day planned for us.”

  “Good. I’ll do anything you want, mom. Anything.”

  I smile down at him. “I know, my good boy. And that’s just why I’ll let you stay here forever.”

  ~The End

  Satisfying the Woman of the House

  (Sexy MILFs)

  ***

  Just like any woman, I’ve always enjoyed sex. But when I hit my forties, the floodgates really opened up, leaving me insatiable. Problem is, my husband of four years has decided to leave me for a younger woman.

  That’s okay, though. My stepson is younger, too—only twenty years old—and with his hard muscles and go-all-night attitude, I might get some satisfaction. I can tell he wants it as much as I do.

  “And you’re sure nothing is wrong with me?”

  Dr. Styles smiled warmly. I’m sure he’s heard it all. I could only imagine the countless women that had sat in this very chair, needing reassurance. I was a little embarrassed at my insecurities.

  “Patricia, your blood panels and hormone levels are all fine. You’re not in menopause. I believe you’re simply experiencing a late sexual peak.”

  I shifted in my seat. “But I thought women hit their peak in their twenties.”

  “Twenties and thirties, yes. It can happen at any age, though. There’s no hard science to it.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “According to the most recent surveys, women are at their peak when they’re most comfortable in their skin, they’re in a good relationship, and they feel … sexually free. My advice is to go home and have all the sex you want without worrying. Your husband has had a vasectomy, so there’s literally nothing stopping you from enjoying yourself.”

  I knew he was right. I was just being paranoid. Lately, I had wanted sex every day. And that was after waking up and pressing the vibrator to my pussy while my hubby was in the shower. Lately, he hadn’t been as insatiable as me, so I ended up using my toys several times a day. I’d even eyed my 20-year-old stepson Aiden a few times, then felt guilty for even thinking of cheating on my husband. But damn me and my libido. It was unstoppable. I needed cock, and I needed it all the time.

  I thanked Dr. Styles and left his office, feeling better about things. When I married Peter four years ago, I was at the peak of my career. But lately, things had slowed down at the
office and I was better able to focus on my marriage. Then, Peter had the vasectomy about six months ago, and we were both able to relax. Except instead of my husband getting increasingly horny like I had, he seemed to pull away, saying he was stressed from his job and hadn’t been sleeping well.

  I understood, having been there myself. But meanwhile, my sex drive seemed to be consuming me. I made the appointment with Dr. Styles to be sure there wasn’t something screwy with my hormones. And now that I knew there wasn’t, I would go home and plan a nice dinner with my husband, seduce him, and make sure he understood just how badly I needed his cock. What man wouldn’t love to hear that from his wife?

  As soon as I got home, I went straight to my bedroom and got undressed. Then, I composed a short message to Peter, telling him to not make any plans, that I wanted him all to myself. Aiden had already said he was going out with some friends from work, so we wouldn’t have to worry about any interruptions.

  I made my way to the master bath and let my long hair down, getting ready to draw a nice, hot bath, maybe use the dildo for a while and edge. Hadn’t done that in a long time. But as I set down my bobby pins on the counter, I saw a long, white envelope with my name across the top, written in my husband’s handwriting.

  I felt a buzz of excitement as I tore it open, sure that our great minds had thought alike, and he had planned something special for the two of us. When we first met, he had been so romantic like that. All we needed was a little spice, and everything would be just fine. My spice awaited me, inside this envelope.

  Or so I thought.

  I didn’t need to read more than two or three sentences for it to become crystal clear that this was not a romantic letter, or a request to meet him somewhere romantic, or for me to do anything remotely romantic with him.

  As a matter of fact, Peter was leaving me for another woman: Helena, his 28-year-old assistant. My body turned ice cold as I read, in sickening detail, how they had fallen in love earlier this year, that she understood the pressures he was under and that she didn’t make demands on him the way I did.

  Demands? The only demands I recall making were requests to spend time with him, to be close to him, to be fucked senseless by him. Tears burned my eyes, and I couldn’t bear to read anymore. I crumpled up the paper and tossed it aside, then threw myself on the bed where I lay crying for the next half hour.

  How could he do this to me? And how could he be so cruel, letting me know our marriage was over in a letter? I suddenly realized that he would be home from work soon, or at least he should. Would Peter bother to show his face to me after leaving a “Dear John” letter for me to find in the bathroom?

  I felt sick inside as I jumped from the bed and walked across the room. I pulled in a deep breath before opening the closet door, only to discover that his side was mostly barren—nothing more than a few crumpled undershirts and an old tie he no longer wore was left in the corner.

  I was deflated.

  I then darted across the hallway to his office and found it essentially untouched, with the exception of his computer which he’d removed. Of course he wouldn’t leave that behind. His file cabinet was still here, but one glance showed that it was completely empty.

  I let out a bitter laugh. It hurt to see, but at the same time, it snapped me out of pity mode and sent me right into a state of anger. My blood burned hot as it raged through my veins. Fucking asshole.

  I heard the front door close and spun around, assuming it was Peter, thinking maybe he had forgotten something important. A part of me didn’t even want to see him. But then it occurred to me that between the heartless letter he wrote and most of his personal belongings gone, there was nothing left for him here, and I’d tell him as much.

  But when I poked my head out of the office, I saw his son, Aiden, tossing a softball glove on the couch in the living room. I walked down the hallway, scanning him from head to toe. His blue jeans were dusted with dirt, and his hunter green t-shirt clung to his sweat-covered chest. I could see the faint outline of his six-pack. At twenty years of age, my stepson had it going on.

  “Aiden? I thought you were going out tonight?”

  “I was planning on it, but the guys ended up canceling during our softball practice. I thought I’d just come home and see what you were up to.”

  It suddenly occurred to me how odd it was that he was here at all. Why hadn’t Peter taken his son with him? Not that I wanted Aiden to leave. He was fun to be around, had always been respectful, and …

  Okay, I’ll be honest, he was eye candy. Eye candy I’d really need now that his father had dumped me.

  “You don’t know?” I asked, suddenly a little unsure about whether I could trust him. What if Peter had asked him to come here, pretend like nothing happened just so he could spy on me? It seemed silly when I thought about it, but I honestly didn’t know who was on my side.

  “Yeah,” Aiden said, pulling a face. “I know dad left you. Are you okay?”

  I took a deep breath, feeling the anger resurface all over again. “Not really. It’s bad enough he fell in love with a 28-year-old, but to end our marriage in a letter? Not quite sure how to recover from that.”

  Aiden’s jaw dropped and his eyes flared. “He broke up with you in a letter?”

  “Yes. He didn’t tell you that?”

  He swung his head from side to side, slowly, as if he were as mortified as I was. “No. Jesus. What did he say?”

  I looked in Aiden’s eyes. If he was faking disappointment, he was doing a damn good job of it. “I’ll let you read it if you want.”

  He nodded, his face twisted in concern. So, I retrieved the letter from the bathroom floor, uncrumpling it as I walked back to the living room. It took him a few minutes to scan the letter, and I watched his face the entire time, noticing the look of surprise as it washed over him.

  “My god,” he whispered, handing me back the letter with shock in his eyes. “He just told me today that the two of you were separating, but I had no idea he had stooped to this level. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry, mom.”

  Aiden stepped to me and pulled me into a hug. I felt the tears come out again, but this time it was because I felt love and understanding from my stepson. I held him tightly, feeling the warmth of his support wash over me. He wrapped his arms even tighter, letting his hands run down the length of my back.

  It was then that I felt the faintest stirrings of desire. I became suddenly aware of how my large D-cup breasts were pressing into his chest, and I wondered if he could feel them, too.

  When he gently pushed me away, I was momentarily disappointed. I didn’t want to lose this intimacy I felt with him. Especially with my body reacting the way it was.

  “Dad wants me to live with him, but I don’t know what to do.”

  I put my hand on Aiden’s face and stared into those gorgeous brown eyes of his. He was on my side. But I could tell he was still torn, not wanting to disappoint his father. All he needed was a little tug in my direction and I could probably have him all to myself. I smiled as I thought about how pissed off Peter would be if he knew I was fucking his son.

  “What does your heart tell you, Aiden?”

  “That my father is a jerk. That he doesn’t deserve you.”

  I fought the urge to smile by pulling my lips inside my mouth and glancing away. “Well, it sounds like you have your answer. I would love it if you stayed here with me. There’s no doubt I’ll need a strong man around the house to help me with things. But I don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

  I slid my hands down the front of his chest and bit my lip, silently hoping he would agree with me. I needed him to feel like it was his choice to stay because I didn’t want any resentment in case things didn’t work out.

  “No, mom. What I’m not comfortable with is living with that man and some strange woman that he’s decided to shack up with.”

  I smiled softly and pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth for a kiss. He started to turn
his head, like he wanted to kiss me back, and it was so unexpected. I should’ve let him but I didn’t. I wanted to give him something to think about. But that little move gave me the distinct impression that he had already given it some thought.

  Good.

  Since I had planned to cook dinner for my husband that night, it wasn’t any more work to cook for me and Aiden. But instead of chicken piccata, I made Aiden’s favorite instead: spaghetti with meatballs and a Caesar salad. I even cracked open a beer for him, but he said he didn’t want it. What a good boy, I thought.

  “With all the drama this afternoon. I didn’t get a chance to ask you how your day at work went.”

  “Busy. We got a few extra clients this week which has made for longer days.”

  Aiden had been working for a landscaping company since he graduated from high school. He had promised his dad he would start college soon, but he was making pretty decent money. And then a few months ago, he announced that he was saving up to buy a house. I admired his goals.

  “Also gives you a chance to workout a little more, really beef up those muscles, huh?”

  He chuckled. “I guess so, especially since I don’t have time to go to the gym every day anymore.”

  I couldn’t help but run my eyes up and down his muscular arms. Aiden had always been strong, but man, he had really beefed up this summer.

  “Well, now all those lonely housewives get to reap the rewards as they watch you mow their grass.”

  “Ha, well, it’s a nice thought, but I doubt any lonely housewives are watching me.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  Aiden twisted his fork through his spaghetti and looked at me, rather confused. “I’m a little bit young, don’t you think? Most of those women are more likely to flirt with the owner of the company. He’s much closer to their age and he drives an Audi.”

  “So what?” I laughed. “Money isn’t everything. Besides, a lot of women in their forties like younger men your age.”