In the Womack bungalow, following the previous evening's perfect storm of loneliness, seduction, indiscretion and outright bad judgement, forty-year-old Colleen had failed to find any meaningful rest. Now, three hours after the least relaxing hot shower she had ever taken in her life, her rejuvenated sexual awareness continued its non-stop battle against her self-recriminations. Exhausted, emotionally overwrought, and unimaginably horny, she looked at the clock-radio in her waterbed's walnut headboard, then groaned, "Uhggh." Trying to focus on practical matters, she thought, "Two-and-a-half hours until Walgreen's opens at nine... maybe a glass of warm milk will help me get a couple hours' sleep before I go get the Plan B..."
Down the short hall from her bedroom, Colleen's eighteen-year-old son, Charles, struggled sleeplessly with his own demons in his plain maple-framed standard bed. After peeping on his mother, at first accidentally, but then admittedly on purpose the second time, he had jacked himself to completion while his mind dwelt on his snatched peek at her pouting snatch before she departed his view to step through her bathroom door. As good as that had felt, it hadn't been enough. His erection had softened only temporarily and his aching nuts unabashedly antagonized him to no end while his semi-hard prick pestered his psyche for more attention than he could give it with his hands.
Charles sighed and consulted his Fossil wristwatch then disappointedly thought, "Six-thirty... too late to get any real sleep, but too early to get up and do anything." Lifting the covers, he looked at his pajama's crotch and wryly confirmed to himself, "Well, at least your dick is down. Maybe a pee, and a shave, is all I actually need." Rolling from his bed, he ambled barefoot to the main bathroom, one door down the hall.
Colleen, in her electric-blue velour zip-front housecoat and oversized pink terry-lined slippers, heard the toilet flush as she scuffed her way to the kitchen. Hoping that her son was not up for the day, but only doing his business before going back to bed, she said nothing through the closed door. On the other side of the painted panels, Charles heard only the refilling toilet tank and the warm tap-water splashing in the porcelain sink. His Barbasol Lemon-Lime shaving cream felt coolly comforting as it softened his stubble and settled onto his jowls.
Midway through scraping his whiskers, Charles' stomach grumbled. As he finished his shave, it complained to him again. Wiping his face clean with a washcloth, he said aloud to his reflection, "Maybe I need a piece of toast, too."
When he stepped into the kitchen, Charles was mildly surprised, but far from unhappy, to see his mother standing at the window, watching the breaking morning. He opened his mouth to say something to her, then thought better of it. As he looked upon Colleen, his detailed memory of seeing her stark naked made her bright blue robe irrelevant. He studied the landscape of her shoulder blades, tapering mid-back, slight waist-roll, and finally, her widening hips framing her broad bottom as the velour draped, then fell straight away to her bubble-gum pink slippers. He imagined he had Superman's X-ray vision and his cock thickened.
Whether Colleen sensed that she was no longer alone, or heard Charles' sudden low excited inhalation, or simply had finished her milk, she set her empty glass on the counter and turned about. Even at ten feet distance, her eyes met her son's and made a connection which shocked them both. As she gazed at him, she mistakenly saw, instead, her dead husband, and also his living older brother, who had become, last night, only the second lover she had ever known. As Charles stared at the milk mustache on her openly astonished face, he couldn't help but conjure the image of him painting her lips with his cock's cream.
Colleen desperately sought to drive her crazy lust into banishment as she brightly greeted, "Good morning, Charlie! You're up early!"
Closing the gap to arms' length, Charles answered huskily, "Umm, yeah... I was, uhh, hungry."
Both mother and son had said the wrong thing at the wrong time with the wrong inflection. Their libidos jumped at the chance to call them out. Colleen's inner voice snarked, "That's right. Charlie's 'UP.' Take a gander at that package swelling in his pajamas, why don't you?"
Meanwhile, Charles' devil advised him, "Forget the toast! You're 'hungry', alright... for what your mom's got! And she knows it, too!"
Inspired by desire and unchecked by reason, Charles continued forward, enveloped Colleen in an unbreakable embrace and kissed her like he only ever dreamed of kissing all the beautiful girls he was too bashful to even approach. To his delight and surprise, she kissed him back while she pushed her hands under his arms and grabbed him low on his butt. His growing erection outgrew his pajamas' vent-fly as she pulled his hips hard to hers and flattened her breasts as much as possible to his thinly protected pecs.
Colleen was helplessly out of control in Charles' arms. She felt her intimate juices spill down her inside thighs. Working her jaws against his as she kneaded her fingertips through his pajamas into his contracting firm glutes, she whimpered, "N-n-ohh, Charlie! Oh, n-no, no, n-no!"
Charles didn't understand. His mother was jamming his joint against her pussy. His cock's bare head pushed painfully on her housecoat's metal zipper as it forced the velour, and the dobby nightgown beneath it, past her cunt's opening iris-petal lips. His brain tried to fathom what she could mean while his hands, without instruction, slipped through her armpits and seized her wonderfully full tits by their sides.
Forcing his left hand between their chests and up to Colleen's throat, Charles yanked her robe's zipper tab to her belly, then reversed his wrist and slid his inverted palm downward inside. Feebly and ineffectually, she protested, "P-please! Wait!"
But Charles wasn't waiting. He pulled her robe's collar off Colleen's shoulders with his right hand while he drove his left lower and grabbed her weeping welt through the soaked nightie. As his clutching fingers teased her cloth-covered clit, his standing stallion nosed between her labia and pressed against her paddock's gate, seeking entry. With a frantic fervor, she humped her ass forward while she hauled him impossibly closer yet, squealing as she came, "Yesss! Oh, God! YESSSS!"
Charles' primal instincts and their consequences were novel to him. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but he shared his mother's elation at whatever it was. Driving forward another foot, he pinned her against the counter's edge. As her body knocked over her empty milk glass, sending it shattering into the steel sink, his exploding nuts saturated her nightgown and pasted it to her pussy.
Abruptly changing her tune, and taking charge of her charging inexperienced son, Colleen pushed off from the counter and gasped, "Yes, yes, OKAY! But finish the right way... inside me!"
