Sam Comes Home

Sam Comes Home

© Bad Hobbit 2023

The vibrator on my clit was getting me close to orgasm. My eyes were tightly closed, focusing my thoughts on Sam. What he might look like, naked. How his skin might feel, brushing against mine. What it might feel like if he were to open my legs and...

"Would you like a hand with that?"

My eyes snapped open. I hadn't heard anyone come into the bedroom. And there was Sam, smiling down at me. I could have died with embarrassment; it was so obvious what I was doing.

"Mum said you might need some company. Looks like you do."

"I - I..." Abi and I had talked for a long time after dinner, just like when we were students together - only back then, we wouldn't have been able to afford to finish off a bottle and a half of Prosecco between us. I guess I couldn't help talking about the sexual desert I'd experienced since long before my divorce from Paul, nearly a year ago; I'd endured around eighteen months without a male body to enjoy, after he'd gone off with bloody Sophie.

Then, while we were still chatting, just before midnight, Sam had come home; twenty-one, about to start his final year at university, disgustingly fit and attractive - and notorious for his endless string of girlfriends and one-night stands. It's probably terribly bad form to lust after your best friend's son, especially as I'd known him since he was a kid, but it really was too much to bear. I'd headed for bed, drunk and horny, and all I could do was get my travelling vibrator out.

And now Sam was by my bedside, and I couldn't think what to say. But as it happened, I didn't need to. Sam just bent down and kissed me, very gently. "You know, I've always fancied you, Rachel, probably since the time I stopped calling you 'Auntie Rachel'. You're definitely the hottest of mum's friends."

I felt an inward lurch. Flattery is always nice, especially coming from someone as cute as Sam, but his good looks had brought him a seemingly-endless stream of pretty girls, and I guessed that this was just another chat-up line. Before I could reply, he kissed me again.

I was in a whirl of indecision, but if I'd ever been stupid enough to rebuff his unusual - not to say insane - sexual advances, the kiss clinched it. No-one had kissed me like that, since - since - oh fuck it,

ever.

Paul's kisses had been nice enough at first, but had grown colder over the years. If my pussy hadn't already been wet as a result of my own efforts, the kiss would have instantly caused it to flood. That kiss was soft, very sensuous, moist but not slobbery, hot but not forceful. He used his lips and tongue in such a graceful way, gently nibbling, sucking at my lips, slowly insinuating his tongue. If a kiss could talk, this one said "I

really

want to fuck you." And my own kiss answered "Oh yes, please."

The curtains were open, and although all the lights were off, the moonlight was bright enough for me to see his face as he withdrew from that oh-so-sexy kiss. I could tell why all the girls fancied him. He has those dark, soulful eyes, high cheekbones, a firm chin, waves of thick, shining hair that flops just so across his forehead, and a mouth that you definitely wouldn't mind kissing - a lot. Or enjoying between your legs. He smiled. I melted.

Then he slipped off the short robe he'd been wearing and started to climb onto the bed. I took in the broad, subtly-muscled shoulders, the lean, strong arms, the nicely-tapering torso. And then we were kissing again, his hands pulling down the straps of my flimsy nightie, stroking my shoulders, cupping my breast and sending an arc of sharp, erotic sensation through me, bouncing from my nipple to my clitoris. I turned to meet him, my hand behind his neck as our mouths met again, and my mouth once more became a primary erogenous zone.

In the gym I sometimes get my heart-rate up to around 140 or 150. I wondered idly what it was running at now, as my pulse pounded in my ears and my pussy seemed to tingle from the referred sensations from my mouth and my breast.

"I've always loved your breasts," he breathed in my ear between extended bouts of slowly and deliciously devouring my mouth. I'd always thought of them as rather small, especially compared to Molly's. My daughter seemed to have grown huge breasts overnight, and I sometimes wondered where, genetically, these may have come from. By comparison, mine were like oranges to her melons, and I was a little self-conscious about my relative scrawniness, especially after the divorce when I desperately wanted male attention.

"You talk - the most delightful - bollocks" I replied between kisses.

"It's true," he replied. "They're nice and firm, and they haven't sagged. And the rest of you is pretty hot, too."

By now, he'd pulled my loose-fitting nightie down to my waist, pausing only to allow me to free my arms. I again draped one arm around his shoulders, savouring the smooth skin and the muscles under it. The other arm was pinned underneath me, so I slid it forward, between our bodies. Which was when I encountered his cock.

I have to say that his cock was a surprise, for three reasons. Firstly, he was fully hard and erect. I couldn't imagine why a fit, very attractive boy like Sam would be turned on by a late-40s woman like me with cellulite and more than the odd wrinkle; but it was a thrill to realise that he was.

Secondly, his cock, balls and entire pubic area were smooth. Sure, I knew that many women, especially the younger ones, waxed or shaved their pussies. I'd even been tempted myself when I last went for a bikini wax, but settled for a trim and tidy-up rather than the full Hollywood. I reasoned that if my face and body wouldn't attract a bloke, there was no point in going through the discomfort to improve the look of an area that no-one but me was likely to see. But I was intrigued that his sexual organs were not only hairless but baby-smooth, with no stubble. A hairy scrotum is one of nature's ugliest manifestations, and I was suddenly intrigued. I wanted to look at the area in question to see if it actually looked attractive without wiry hair.

But the thing that most surprised me was the size of Sam's cock. Look, I'm not one of these women who longs for a huge cock. Sure, I've had a kid - just one, over twenty years ago - but I've been working my pelvic floor muscles ever since, and I don't think I'm slack. For me, size really isn't that important, as long as the guy knows how to use it. I'd concluded, after nearly twenty-five years of marriage, that Paul didn't. Sometimes he - or maybe I - got lucky when he hit the right spots inside me, but he rarely lasted long enough to give me more than passing pleasure, and he always had to get me off with his fingers or mouth on my clit.

As I ran my hand along the shaft of Sam's cock, from the velvety balls to the slightly-sticky, rather bulbous head, I realised that he was bigger than Paul. He was definitely longer, maybe by as much as two inches. And as for girth... My pussy gave a little involuntary jolt. It hadn't been stretched - like, properly stretched - since Molly was born. This - this could be

really

interesting.

Then, suddenly, his hand moved to my thigh, and I gasped as his smooth, firm-but-gentle strokes made me tingle even more. "You have great legs, Rachel," he murmured into my ear between even more of his increasingly-fiery kisses. "And a peachy arse. Believe me, I've been looking at your cute face, your pert tits, your lean legs and your pert little bum since I was about twelve, and more-recently wondering what it would be like to sample them. You're really hot, Rachel."

"Don't talk bollocks," I replied, embarrassed by the flattery, but enjoying it none the less.

He pulled back a little and looked into my eyes. "Rachel, baby," he said, and I thought 'no-one has called me

baby

for a long time'. "Rachel, baby, please don't contradict me. You're very sexy. I think you can tell just how sexy I find you by what's in your hand. So please, Rachel, if all you're going to do is tell me I'm talking bollocks, shut the fuck up until you're ready to say something more appropriate."

His hand slid up, into my pussy slit, and I just moaned out loud. "Oh God!" I gasped.

"Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, smiling. His hand pressed lightly against my pussy lips, and I opened my legs a little to give him better access. Being a gentleman, he took full advantage of this, sliding one of his long, artistic fingers across my slit and on, deep inside me.

"Oh my God! Oh - oh fuck..." I gasped as I slumped back onto the pillow.

"Yes I am - well, at least a demigod. And yes I will -

we

will - fuck. But all in good time," he replied. His mouth dropped over a nipple, as one finger probed for - and found - a couple of very sensitive spots inside me, and his thumb then accurately located and stimulated my clit.

All I could do was lie there, moaning, idly stroking his hard cock up and down. This was bizarre, but unbelievably sexy. I absolutely should not be doing this, with the son of my best friend, a man - barely more than a boy, in my eyes - twenty-five years my junior. I'd watched him grow up, seen him blossom from a toddler to a boy to a teenager to a very attractive hunk. I'd been his 'auntie', babysitting for Abi, buying him treats, watching him play happily with my daughter and other young children. And now - now he was about to fuck me. I hoped.

My pussy was boiling. I was so wet, and he had found sensitive areas that I barely knew I possessed. Even as I was trying to decide whether I most wanted him to go down on me or just fuck me, he slid the other hand under me, moistened a finger in my copious juices and slowly slid it up my bum. I didn't like that when Paul did it. I'm sure he'd wanted to try anal sex with me, and that had never appealed, so every time he tried to put his finger up there, I stopped him. But there was no stopping Sam. And oddly, this time I didn't want him to stop. Everything he did felt erotic, thrilling - more exciting than anything I'd felt in years.

Within just a couple of minutes, I was on the verge of coming. He must have sensed this, because he eased the pressure on my clit and slowed the pace of his g-spot stimulations. My sensations plateaued off, and I looked at him, almost pleadingly.

"Patience," was all he said, before returning to suck my nipples alternately, quite hard. Slowly he ramped up the sensations again, seeming to focus on working his finger deep in my arse and teasing the ring with his knuckle. I could feel the other finger, swirling inside my pussy, occasionally press against the one inside my bum, squeezing the sensitive membranes that separate the two holes in a strange but oddly erotic way. And his thumb kept working my clit.

I opened my legs wider, pressing my pussy up to meet his hand, trying to increase the pressure on my clitoris. The weird and wonderful sensations from inside my vagina and arse, mixed with the insistent pressure on my clit and the almost painful stimulation of my nipples was lifting me into an erotic region that I'd never before explored, and I was absolutely fizzing inside.

Then, when I felt sure I really was about to come, he let go of my nipple with his mouth, and smoothly changed position. His finger slowly, tantalisingly, was withdrawn from my arse, and he rolled sideways, between my legs, still keeping a finger inside my pussy and his thumb lazily circling my clit, refusing to give me release. I still had hold of his cock. I'd idly been rubbing his rather copious pre-cum around the head. As I looked at him, the fit, V-shaped torso, all strong young muscles and smooth, clear skin, kneeling there, my small hand around his rather large cock, I just couldn't believe what was happening. And what was about to happen.

"OK, Rachel. You can talk now. What do you say in situations like this?"

"I - I say 'please fuck me, Sam'." What else could I say? God, I wanted this so much. Even if he didn't make me come like this, the sensations so far had been amazing, and I felt sure there would be more to come.

"Right answer. It'll be my pleasure - and also yours," he smiled back. "Now, point my cock where you want it, then open your legs as wide as they'll go."

It never occurred to me to suggest that he put on a condom. This was the moment. I very much doubted that I could get pregnant at my age - my periods had stopped before Paul had left - and if I thought about it at all I just assumed that he practiced safe sex with his other partners. (In fact, I'd found discarded condoms in Molly's waste bin when he'd been staying at ours, when she and he had briefly been a couple, two years ago. I idly wondered whether he would be comparing mother and daughter as sex partners, but right now, I didn't give a fuck. Or rather, I was about to give a fuck to Sam - something I wanted very, very much to do).

He withdrew his finger from inside me, still keeping his thumb gently stimulating my clit. I dutifully pointed his juicy cock-head at the entrance of my by-now overflowing vagina. He took it in his hand and lazily swirled it around my pussy lips, picking up more lubrication and setting off some more wild sensations in the process, before returning it to point straight at the target area.

"Arch your back." I shuffled my feet in a little and pressed down on the mattress with my heels, and he slid a pillow under my bum. "OK, Rachel. Tell me how this feels," he said smiling down at me, and I felt that bulbous cock-head start to burrow into me, spreading my pussy lips, slowly, irresistibly, excruciatingly entering my ultra-wet vagina. And it was good that I was so wet, as for the first time in well over twenty years, my pussy was actually being stretched and opened. It was, at the same time, thrilling and mildly uncomfortable. Not painful, like the time I lost my virginity or when I gave birth to Molly - that was agony - but my pussy knew it was swallowing something out of the ordinary.

Sam was gentle. No quick, enthusiastic thrust, as Paul had sometimes resorted to - not that his smaller cock ever met much resistance - but something slow, sensuous and powerfully sexy, moving in, then back a little, then in again, until I was full. I could feel that he had gone deeper than Paul had ever reached. Maybe my boyfriends before Paul had managed to tunnel that deep inside me, but if so, any memory of it was lost after nearly a quarter century of routine sex with Paul. And even if they'd gone that deep, I don't ever recall feeling so totally

full

before. And certainly never with such a sexy body behind that cock, spreading my legs wide, his handsome face in front of mine, looking into my eyes to see my reaction.

Then his hips were pressing against my thighs, forcing my legs even further apart. "How does that feel?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Amazing. Full, I..."

He pulled back, a little faster than he'd entered, settling up some interesting and delightful ripples inside me. Another thrust, rather faster than the first, then a quicker withdrawal and another slick, full depth penetration that made me gasp, and I knew I was being properly and totally fucked.

Then we were moving together, me with my feet first on the mattress, then, after a short while, lifted and hooked behind his legs. As much as he was thrusting into me, I was opening for him, swallowing his cock, marvelling at the sensations he was giving me through that simple action of sliding in and out of my wet and welcoming vagina. And all the while, as he supported his weight on one arm, his other thumb stroked and teased my clit.

"How does it feel now?" he asked, slightly breathlessly, as his thrusts got even faster - deep, full, and with a slight swirling motion that got me even more aroused.

"Amazing! F - fucking amazing. Oh! Oh fuck!" I moaned.

"I

am

fucking. You're being fucked, Rachel. How does that feel?"

"It's - oh! So - so good! Oh! Oh yes! Oh God! Oh my God! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuuuu...!"

As I said, with Paul, I hardly ever came while we were fucking. It was almost always before or afterwards, with Paul licking or fingering my clit. Sure, Sam was also rubbing my clit, but his nice, meaty cock was definitely enhancing the sensations. And those sensations got me to the strongest climax I can remember. My pussy was contracting like crazy, my nipples were throbbing and I couldn't stop my legs from shaking. I have no idea what I was moaning, gasping or screaming; all control had been lost.

The orgasm went on for ages. Each thrust of his cock seemed to create another ripple, even as the main wave subsided. I was still in its final throes when Sam said "Rachel, I'm going to come. Where do you want it?"

Where did I want it? Was there a choice? He was thrusting inside my pussy. I just assumed he'd come inside me, as Paul always did. I was sure I was through the Change, so the chances of pregnancy were very small.

But he seemed determined to offer me options. "In your mouth? On your face? On your tits?"

"How about inside - inside my pussy?" I managed to gasp back. I hooked my feet higher behind him and reached around to grab his tight little bum and pull him in.

"Ye - ye - yeaaaaah!" he moaned, making one final, deep thrust, and I could feel his cock pulsing inside me.

He finally stopped rubbing my clit - I really couldn't have stood much more - and collapsed onto his elbows. Our mouths met again, and the kiss this time was soft and affectionate, rather than hot and erotic.

"That was - that was fucking amazing Rachel. You're a fantastic fuck!" He kissed me again, gently stroking my hair as our orgasms subsided.

"You're pretty good yourself," I replied. "In fact - in fact, that was the best fuck I've had in - in years."

"I'm glad," he replied. "I've wanted to do this for so long, and I wanted it to be special for both of us."

His cock slipped out, he rolled over to one side and I managed to grab some tissues to mop up the fluids. He smiled at me. I smiled back.

"I'm quite a bit older than your usual girlfriends," I said. "Why were you so eager to fuck me? Or was it just that you felt sorry for me?"

"Hey Rachel, when Mum said that you were having a tough time dating and couldn't find a decent bloke, I was astonished. Like I told you, I'd fancied you for years. You're still hot."

"But - but you've had so many girls. Including Molly." As soon as I'd said it, I regretted it. I was reminding him that he'd now fucked both mother and daughter. How would he react?

To my surprise, he laughed. "Oh, Rachel, you're a

much

better fuck than your daughter. I hope you don't mind me saying so. I don't want to disparage Molly, but her mum is much more fun in bed."

When Molly and Sam had parted, I was surprised and rather disappointed. They'd been friends since school, had gone out as girlfriend and boyfriend since Molly was seventeen, and started having sex when she was around eighteen - she didn't say when, so I could only guess. But after that, the relationship only lasted a couple of months. When I asked Molly why, she simply said that Sam was 'too demanding'. I'd actually asked Sam about it at the time, but he'd just shrugged. "I guess I'm not 'The One' for her," was all he'd say at the time.

"But she's so much prettier. I'm envious of her breasts. I wish I had a bosom like that."

"Oh no," Sam replied. "Yours are much sexier. Hers are already starting to sag. I guess I shouldn't say, but..."

"But what? Come on, you've fucked her mother. Tell me why you didn't stay with my daughter."

He laughed softly. "It doesn't seem right somehow, but... But, well, she doesn't react like you do. She wouldn't open her legs and enjoy my cock inside her like you do. It was so hard to make her come; she wouldn't just relax and let it happen. And I bet you'll do stuff that she won't. Oh - and I've lusted after you for years, so tonight was fulfilling an ambition for me."