Jeanne Lamonica fucks Her son
I stared at the woman who strutted into my office studio, her voluptuous curves barely contained by the slinky black dress and lacy lingerie. Mother. Jeanne Catherine Lamonica, age 57, a vision of dark-haired, full-figured eroticism. She wore a knowing smile, as if savoring the shock value of her provocative entrance.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my long-lost son,” she purred, her voice dripping with sultry promise. “I heard you were looking for a certain…type of spokesmodel for your new venture.”
I couldn’t help but swallow hard, my gaze roving over her ample cleavage and the way the fabric of her dress hugged her thick thighs. Fuck, my own mother was performing a striptease for me, and I was both horrified and aroused.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” I asked, trying to maintain a professional tone despite the tightness in my pants.
She closed the door behind her and sauntered over to my desk, her hips swaying hypnotically. “You know, dear, I’ve always been a bit of a free spirit. And when I heard about your line of…adult toys, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to spread my wings.”
Jeanne reached a hand behind her neck, unclasping the dress to let it slither down her body, exposing her lush, freckled breasts, barely contained by a black lace bra. I nearly choked on my own tongue.
“Aren’t you going to ask for the audition, sweetie?” she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.
I shook my head, my mind reeling. “Uhh, yeah. Of course. Let’s…get to it.”
Jeanne smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes. She reached behind her back and unlatched another clasp, allowing the dress to pool at her feet. Now, she stood before me in just her lingerie, a matching black thong and bra that left little to the imagination.
“You want to see me work my magic, don’t you?” she cooed, her voice honey-licked.
Without waiting for a response, Jeanne hooked her thumbs under the underwire of her bra and gently pulled it away from her breasts. They tumbled free, plump and perfect, with dark nipples already hardening in the cool office air.
Next, she slid a hand beneath the waistband of her thong, inching it down her thick thighs until it pooled around her ankles. Now, naked except for her heels, she stood before me in all her glorious, motherly nakedness.
“Like what you see, Anthony?” she asked, her voice husky with desire.
I nodded dumbly, transfixed by the sight of my mother’s ravenous sexuality on full display. She reached for me, her hands on my chest, pulling me down for a deep, sensual kiss. Her tongue danced with mine, and I could taste the mix of lipstick and forbidden lust.
Breaking the kiss, Jeanne backed away, a seductive smile playing on her lips. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?”
She sat on the edge of my desk, spreading her legs wide in an unmistakable invitation. With a trembling hand, I reached for one of the sex toys from the table, a slim, black vibrator.
“Do you want to see me pleasure myself with it, baby?” Jeanne cooed, her eyes burning with wanton need.
I nodded, mesmerized, as I watched her take the toy in her hand, the cool metal a stark contrast to her heated skin. She rubbed it between her folds, gasping at the sensation, and then pressed it against her engorged clit, grinding it in slow, deliberate circles.
My cock throbbed in my pants as I watched my mother play with herself, lost in the throes of passionate self-pleasure. She was so wet, so turned on, that the toy made obscene squelching noises with each pass.
“Look how much I want it,” she moaned, her chest heaving, breasts bouncing with each thrust of her hips. “Don’t you crave a taste, Anthony?”
Before I could respond, she grabbed my hand, guiding it to her slick, swollen cunt. “Go on, sweetie,” she urged, her voice a low, desperate purr. “Eat your mommy’s pussy.”
And so, with a groan of surrender, I pressed my mouth to her sex, lapping at her juices with growing fervor. She gripped my hair, pulling me deeper, urging me on as I feasted on her, drinking in her essence with each reckless, wanton thrust of my tongue.
As I devoured her, Jeanne reached down and guided the vibrator back into her folds, fucking herself with it while I ate her out. The sensations were too much, and I felt my own orgasm building, my cock aching for release.
Suddenly, Jeanne pulled me away, her eyes wild with lust. “Now, baby, it’s time for the main event,” she panted, reaching for the lube on my desk.
She straddled my lap, positioning my hard cock at her entrance. With a sharp, wanton cry, she sank down onto me, taking me deep into her slick, pulsing depths.
“Fuck me, Anthony,” she moaned, her hips rolling in a steady, driving rhythm. “Fill your mommy’s ass with your big, hard cock.”
I gripped her hips, meeting her thrusts with savage intensity, burying myself to the hilt in her pulsing, velvet heat. The forbidden, taboo pleasure of taking my own mother’s ass was almost too much to bear.
As we fucked, Jeanne reached back to play with her clit, the vibrations of the toy sending shockwaves of pleasure through us both. I could feel her climax approaching, and I knew I was right behind her.
With a final, desperate thrust, I came inside her, my hot seed filling her as she spasmed and moaned above me, her own orgasm crashing over us in a surge of raw, animalistic pleasure.
In the aftermath, we lay there, sweat-slicked and breathless, the reality of what we’d done hitting us like a tidal wave. I’d just fucked my own mother, and she’d been the one to initiate it all, seducing me with her erotic allure and uninhibited desire.
As we caught our breath, Jeanne traced a finger down my chest, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Well, son,” she purred, “I think this audition went rather well, don’t you?”