My Mother's Wiced Game

This standalone taboo tale is a side story of my series called

Portmanteau.

This side story, and others like it, cover far more

taboo genres

than my work in the Erotic Couplings category. Please review the tags so there are no unexpected actions outside your comfort zone. I assure you this story will go places you might not expect."

TAGS:

Anal Sex, Blowjob, Hairy Pussy, Mother, Mom, Incest, Mother Son, Mature, Swallowing, Pegging, Nipples, Creampie, Loud sex, Ass play, Sex Toys, Cunnilingus, MILF, Mature

Mother's Wicked Game: The Wicked Wendie Weckenstein

Mrs. Weckenstein entered the hotel room and looked at the bed where her conquest waited obediently. Her rock-hard nipples were impossible to hide as she arrived already charged up for action. She poured herself a substantial glass of scotch, then admired herself in the mirror as she drank it.

She was a beautiful woman in her late forties. Her level of sophistication was evident in the knee-length taupe, single-breasted jacket dress from Saks, which she wore with refined elegance.

The man in the room was young, perhaps 20 years old. He walked up behind her and lifted her dress to reveal her elegant lingerie covering her tight round ass. The lace and satin tanga sat beneath an elegant garter belt attached to stockings with straps.

His hands moved across her ass, feeling its firmness. He then reached around the front of the dress, undid four buttons, and the jacket dress fell away, revealing her mature body with firm tear-drop breasts clad in a black satin and lace balconette. The two made eye contact via the mirror before them. She nodded approval for him to continue.

Keeping his body behind her, he kissed her neck as his hands explored her thighs, then moved to her stomach and aggressively into her panties. He roughly inserted three fingers inside her watering slit. She arched back at the attack grinding her ass into his crotch, massaging his growing bulge beneath his jeans.

"He almost saw Mrs. Weckenstein this time," she whispered seductively. "You know what that does for me."

She leaned on the counter while he violently pulled her panties down, causing the garters to snap loudly. He found himself staring at the perfect ass of a middle-aged man who didn't work out, yet she was blessed with a nearly perfect figure.

Taking his pants down to his knees, the young man grabbed his cock, stroked it once, pushed her forward so her ass flared, and ran his thickness up and down her ass over her flared starfish, which puckered and beckoned the young man's cock to enter.

But that was for later. For now, the young man adjusted, and the tip of his phallus hunted for the split of her dark full bush, seeking the entrance to her warmth. With a push, he slid in slowly. Her growing wetness trickled from her pussy as she smiled with pleasure.

"Mmmmmm. Mrs. Weckenstein has trained you well," she whispered.

"Yes, you have," he whispered in her ear.

The young man increased cadence, changing the copulation from lovemaking to fucking as her pussy made a moist fapping sound.

He looked down to enjoy the view of his penis engulfed in her air-tight labia, watching its elastic skin stretch out and in with each pull and push. Her pussy's grip felt like a hand wrapped around his girth, gently masturbating him to a glorious finish.

Mrs. Weckenstein let out a long low moan, the kind we do in hotel rooms where we know we can be heard and want to ensure we are.

"I'm going to cum" he exclaimed as his face reddened.

It was evident she was cumming too.

"Yes, baby, cum for Mrs. Weckenstein. Fill me," she demanded loudly.

The young man's cock unloaded its semen deep inside the mature woman. She could feel it filling her pussy as he pumped away, frothing it into a cream.

Her orgasm came from the feeling of his ejaculation and the excitement of the moment. With his first orgasm out of the way, she knew she would control the young man by edging him to several orgasms over the next 12 hours.

_____________________________________________

It was late fall in 1990, I don't remember the exact date, but I'm sure I could look it up. I remember Rutgers was in town for a football game and the campus was abuzz with activity. Around midday, I went to Hungry Charlies for drinks with a few of the guys from my frat. Nothing was better than an afternoon football game with a strong beer buzz. The campus was packed, the sororities were partying, and the odds of getting laid tonight increased exponentially after the game.

It was almost game time, and the bars emptied with everyone heading to the stadium. Walking with my frat brothers, I spotted an attractive woman a block away. She was standing alone, smoking a cigarette. The crowds were thick, and my view of her was repeatedly obscured, but I could have sworn the woman was my mother. But that wasn't possible. She and my father were at home on Long Island.

I walked on, then turned back to see her off in the distance walking into the University Sheraton Hotel against the crowds heading to the game.

I couldn't see her face from behind, but it had to be my mother. No one had that incredible sense of style and look. Still, it made no sense. Were my parents in town to surprise me?

I told my frat brothers I'd catch up to them and headed toward the Sheraton. Inside, the lobby was chaotic, and I could not find the mysterious woman. Rethinking the situation, I determined it couldn't possibly be her.

I walked to the desk and asked the clerk for Judge Andrew Weckenstein's room. They assured me there was no Andrew Weckenstein checked in the hotel.

"How about Wendie Weckenstein?" I asked.

The clerk nodded and said. "Yes, we have Mrs. Weckenstein. Would you like to leave her a message?"

I was stunned. When I asked for her room number, the clerk would not supply it, citing hotel policy.

"I'm her son," I replied, pulling out my driver's license to prove we had the same last name.

"Oh, well, we can bend the rules a little. After all, your brother is already here."

"My brother?" I asked, bewildered. I don't have a..." I paused and decided I needed to get to the room. "18433," the desk clerk said.

I rode the elevator up to the 18

th

and walked down the hall until I came to the room. I was about to knock on the door when I heard a familiar sound. It was the sound of a woman getting laid and enjoying every inch of her impalement. I knew the voice, and I knew the sound. My mother never held back when she and my dad fucked. She was a notorious moaner, and her choice of words could make a sailor blush.

When I turned 18, I moved into the spare bedroom below my parent's room because I enjoyed listening to her groan and moan as my dad fucked her often and mercilessly. Sometimes I jacked myself off to her pleasure sounds. So yes, I knew what my mother sounded like when she orgasmed.

I leaned in to listen to the sex sounds. With each moan, my cock became increasingly rigid, remembering some of my hand sessions listening to her in the room above me.

"Mmmmmm. Mrs. Weckenstein's trained you well." I could hear her say through the door.

I often thought she liked to cum loudly just for me to hear. She was notoriously manipulative, and I knew she got off by pushing my buttons.

My heart raced as she was getting close to coming. I had never heard her refer to herself in the third person. But it was hot and turned me on. In my mind, I imagined my father trying his best to punish her pussy. My mom was extremely attractive, in her late 40s, and still looked like a wife who belonged on a trophy shelf.

I leaned closer, putting my ear to the door, and her voice was much more apparent when she said, "Yes, baby, cum for Mrs. Weckenstein. Fill me," she demanded loudly.

There it was again. Mrs. Weckenstein? If she and my dad were doing some role-playing, I should probably be leaving

,

I thought to myself.

I then realized my cock was rising as I listened to passionate sounds, which soon culminated in a loud dual orgasm inside the hotel room.

Then silence. I could hear some shuffling inside and someone approaching the door, and I quickly retreated a few doors down. The room door opened and out walked a man my age wearing a robe and holding an ice bucket.

I knew the guy. It was my roommate Grant.

I had to process what I was seeing. My roommate Grant had just exited a hotel room where I heard my mother getting laid. What the fuck was he doing here? Was my mother fucking my roommate? How was that possible?

He put the door latch in the door to keep it from locking behind him. As he went down the long hall, I went to the door and went inside.

I had no plan and no idea what I was doing. The bed was still made. Apparently, they had fucked standing up. The room smelled of sex, but my mother was not there. I must have heard wrong and turned to leave. Just then, I heard the sound of someone peeing.

"That was a lot of cum," the familiar voice said. "I hope I can pee it all out.

I walked to the open bathroom door to see my naked mother sitting on the toilet, peeing and wiping cum off her full black bush. She looked up at me with confusion.

Her strong stream of pee shut off abruptly.

Then a calm coolness that only she possessed took over.

"Barry," she said flatly.

"Hi, Mom," I replied, "in town for the game or just to fuck my roommate?"

She was caught. She was so cold busted. But she was so fucking shrewd.

"You should have called first," she said as she stood. Some of her pee dribbled down her leg, and she did not attempt to dab it up.

Despite the insanity of the moment, I was caught off guard looking at her naked body. I had seen glimpses through open doors and spying on her sunbathing over the years. Any missing details had been filled in with my imagination.

Her body was tight and toned, although I had never seen her make any attempt to work out. Her breasts were a perfect teardrop, and her rose-red nipples were large and engorged, no doubt from the adrenaline of her son busting her or perhaps from the massive orgasm she just enjoyed.

"Would you like me to explain?" she said as she walked toward me.

"That you're fucking my roommate?" I replied incredulously.

"I have needs. Grant fills those needs," she said.

"I'm going to ask again. Are you fucking my roommate?"

As if on cue, the door reopened, and Grant came into the room oblivious to the situation.

"Please don't put more than one ice cube in my..." Grant froze when he saw me, "...asshole," he finished.

"Hey, Grant. Tonight, when we're back in our dorm room, maybe you don't tell me about the girl you were fucking during the football game.

"You told him about our lovemaking?" My mom asked Grant with concern.

"No, he told me about your fucking," I corrected her.

"I didn't say who it was. Just a sorority girl from Alpha Gamma," Grant said in defense. "Which is kind of true. She was in that sorority 25 years ago."

"Grant, Mrs. Weckenstein needs you to shut up right now," Mom said. There it was again--another third-person reference.

Grant nodded in agreement, wishing he could be anywhere but here.

Mom moved to the mini bar, poured three glasses of scotch, and handed one to each of us. She did not attempt to dress or hide her nudity.

"Take the drink. Let's reset and talk about this like adults."

I put the drink down to continue with my litany of gripes. Mom's face got serious.

"Your mother said drink your fucking scotch," she said with the scolding tone of my childhood that would scare me into cleaning my room.

I swallowed the liquor, which burned. Added to my pre-game beers, my head swirled. I was a little drunk and a lot enraged.

"You ask questions. I'll give honest answers," she said. She drained her drink in a single gulp and poured another.

Grant sipped at his, reacting to the strength of the spirit.

"When did this start?" I asked

"Parents' weekend," she replied.

"How does Dad not know?"

"He does. He was here when we first fucked. He was pretending to be blacked out. It was a special treat for him to watch me and a younger man."

"Wait. He was awake that night?" Grant queried.

"Yes, Grant. But let's let Barry have the floor right now,"

"Watch out for her, Grant. She loves fucking with people. Christ, I need a better adjective. Don't fall for her game. She always gets what she wants."

"Too late," Grant said. "I think I'm in love with her," he said quietly.

"What did I say? What was my only demand? Don't fall in love with me, you idiot," Mom told her boy toy.

"I'll have to take the blame for some of this," she continued.

She pointed to Grant. "You should not have fallen in love with me."

She then pointed at me, "And you should not be creeping around listening to my hotel room door."

"Which part of the blame do you take?" I asked.

"Not covering my tracks better. You boys are like sons to me," she replied.

"I am your son!" I said a little too loud. "I'm just the son who did not get a chance to fuck you."

"Is that what this is about? Do you want to fuck me?" she asked.

"No, well, maybe, but no. Well, maybe; I mean, I've had fantasies like all guys."

I could not believe the words that were coming from my mouth. She had been at the core of most of my fantasies, but I had never said it out loud. Now she was standing nude before me, her lover in the room, and I had somehow admitted to my desire to try the last taboo.

"I don't fantasize about my mother," Grant said.

"Why would you? You're too busy fucking mine," I fired back.

"It's okay to fantasize about me, baby," My mother told me.

She smiled with pride. My dad may have been the high-powered ex-attorney, but Mom just cross-examined me into admitting my desire to fuck her. She had me and knew it. My cock went so stiff in the jeans that I had to adjust myself in front of her.

The weight of everything was overwhelming, and I had to sit on the bed or pass out.

My Mom came over to me, sat uncomfortably close, and handed me her glass of scotch.

"I should leave," I said. "You two do whatever you're doing, and I'll sort it out someday in therapy."

"I want you to stay," she said with a gentle whisper putting her hand on my leg for reassurance.

"To watch you fuck Grant? No thanks."

"Grant, Mrs. Weckenstein wants you to leave now," she said dismissively.

"But we were going to-," he began.

"Things have changed. You crossed the line."

Grant began to gather his clothes, slowly getting dressed, hoping my mother would tell him to stop and do to him whatever the fuck she had promised him.

"What did I say the first time we fucked?" she asked.

"Not to fall in love with you."

"That's right," she replied.

"I'm sorry, but I could not help it. I just-"

"You'll get over me. But this is done."

"Yes, Mrs. Weckenstein," Grant said sadly as he finished getting dressed and left.

Grant left without so much as getting a kiss goodbye.

"Why do I feel so bad for him?" I asked, "That's so fucked up."

It was just my mother and me sitting on the bed. I took another drink of her scotch.

"I always knew when you watched me sunbathing from the guest room."

Fuck me,

I thought. She knew I would run to the guest bedroom because it overlooked the pool to watch her worship the sun topless.

She slowly moved her hand along my thigh.

"I liked knowing you were watching me," she whispered in my ear, "it made me wet, just like now."

My cock stiffened quickly and got stuck against the tightness of my jeans. I had to awkwardly squirm to free it.

"W...W...W...Wet?" I said with a stutter.

Mom smiled as she took her left hand and slowly slid it down her stomach across her dark bush, and I watched it disappear into her hair-covered slit. I gulped in awe at her hypnotic move. Her fingers creased her dark bush revealing the pink rose petals of her labia.

"What are you..." I could not finish my sentence as she took her glistening finger from her pussy, slowly brought it to my lips, then coated them with her velvet gloss.

She then watched and waited for what seemed like hours. Finally, I could resist no longer and licked my lips to savor her taste.

Only then did she place her hands under each of her breasts, cupped them firmly, and held them out toward me, offering me the prospect of suckling them.

My heartbeat quickened. The room was getting hot. I knew I had to leave. I could no longer stay with her but found myself leaning toward her. I found the warmth of her breast flesh in my mouth as my tongue caressed her nipple and let her nurse me. She closed her eyes with pleasure from my weakness and her ability to win.

I could sense the joy my tongue provided the nerve endings in her nipples as they thickened in my mouth and the tips dimpled inward. I could feel the bumps on her wide areolas.

She held my head and let me engulf her nipple while petting and stroking my hair. While still suckling her tits, I placed my hand on her flat stomach wanting to move it into her pussy, wanting to feel her clit, longing for her warmth. She could sense my desire as well as my hesitancy.

Mom placed a hand behind my head, then pulled me up from her breasts and in close for a soft sensual, open-mouth kiss where she probed me hungrily with my tongue. It was not a typical mother-son kiss, not by a long shot.

She whispered, "You know how this will end, right?"

I had only kissed and fondled her; it should have ended there. I stood up. I should have found the courage to leave, but I was a prisoner to her passion.

I got off the bed, but she reached out and pulled me toward her so my waist was in front of her face.

She seductively ran her hands across my stomach and gently unbuttoned my jeans. With each button, she would kiss and lick the exposed flesh. After two buttons, the glans of my penis was exposed. She gently licked the blunt tip, savoring the salty taste, another two buttons, and it sprang free. She gripped my cock in her hand, giving it a gentle tug up and down, seemingly pleased at my size and arousal,

I pulled her hand away with some doubts. It was a panic response. Could I meet her expectations? Her next move was devious.

She finished opening my jeans, pulled them down then began to massage my cock with long slow strokes. I stepped out of my jeans, naked from the waist down, as my mother crossed yet another line and descended on my prick with her mouth.

Licking the shaft and then swirling her tongue around the head. The warmth of her mouth and the suction she created were dizzying. I wanted to cum then and there, just dump my load in her mouth, but she predicted my moves and excitement and backed off.

"Mommy needs you to slow down, baby," she said as she pulled herself to her knees and brought me in for more deep probing kisses.

"Lay down. I want to feed you," she whispered.

I removed my shirt, now fully naked; I obediently lay back on the bed, stroking my erect cock.

My mother straddled my chest in a reverse cowgirl stance so her magnificent ass was on my chest and in my face. My view was her slender back, her pale anus, her manicured perineum, and black-haired pussy. Her soaked snatch left a trail of her wetness on my skin as she scooched her ass toward my face.

She then leaned forward and began to lick my stomach, putting her mouth just inches from my cock.

This move raised her pussy directly over my head but out of reach from my tongue. Her entry was now over my face, and I could smell her inviting essence. I breathed in deeply, inhaling her pussy's fragrance which raced to my balls, swelling them with anticipate

She then ran two fingers in her pussy, readying it for me to taste. Her thick, rich juices created a syrupy glycerin coating that held her pussy lips closed.