My name is Kenneth Thompson, though everyone who knows me calls me Kenny. I live with my mother and stepfather in Newark, New Jersey, and attend a local college not ten minutes away so that I can still live at home.
When I hit puberty and learned what sex was really all about, I quickly developed a huge crush on my very own Mom. It was wrong, I knew it was, but I could not help the way I felt about my mother, Erica Thompson. She was the most attractive woman I had ever seen in my entire life - with a kind heart and a quirky sense of humour, she was forever smiling and cracking jokes around me, never letting the hardships of life get to her or weigh down her bubbling, vivacious spirit.
Mom had only been 15 when I was born, much to the embarrassment and disgust of her own parents, who promptly disowned her and her new offspring and cast us both out into the streets.
We survived, though I was young then and didn't really remember much about the life that we lived before Mom met my stepfather, Roger Thompson. She never really talked about our life together before Dad, and by the pained look on her face whenever I managed to broach the subject, she desperately wanted to forget that part of her life and just move on...
Dad was a fantastic guy, one of those all-round top fellows who loved to laugh and have a good time. He had lots of friends, because people simply found themselves gravitating towards him all the time.
Roger had that type of instinctive ability to hook people with whatever he was saying, that was he literally made a killing as a business mogul. He was a tall man, about 6'7", with shortish steel-grey hair cut back in a sharp, severe style and deep, china-blue eyes which seemed to radiate power and control.
He was a cold, calculating businessman who made millions for himself and his investment company in his youth and throughout his 30s and 40s, but now that he had just turned 51, he was planning on really winding back at the office and enjoying the good things in life again...
Mom was a complete and utter knockout, still a totally gorgeous woman at the matured age of 36-years-old, with the appearance and physique that women a decade younger would be envious of. She was quite tall for a woman, at about 5'11" in height. With long, billowing chestnut-brown hair done up in a thick braid on top of her head, large, shining china-blue eyes, full, luscious crimson-red lips and a stunningly beautiful oval face which seemed to be crafted by the very hand of God, so sensuous and pristine in its perfection, Erica never failed to turn heads wherever she went and no matter what she was doing, saying or wearing.
Her firm, voluptuous body only served to add to this fact. Mom had gigantic breasts, and I do mean GIGANTIC! One day, I checked the size of the bras that she wore, and wasn't all that surprised when I discovered that they were 36F-cups! They were massive mammaries, that was for sure, and one day when I caught her slipping out of her clothes one day, I saw them in the naked flesh in all their splendid glory!
She had the biggest, fattest dark-pink nipples I had ever seen in my entire life! I could hardly believe how thick and rigid they looked, poking straight out in the very centre of each large, round globe of tit-flesh.
But Erica was not only gifted with some choice norks - oh no, she had one of the most exquisite hour-glass figures I had ever seen any woman possess, with big curvy thighs, a large, meaty rump, and a couple of nice, long sleek legs that just seemed to go on and on for days! She was, to put it bluntly, the full package
I could tell that Mom was happy about her husband coming back home a lot more regularly than before, and they seemed to be having 'relations' a good deal more frequently and really getting into the mood of things. I couldn't help but grasp a firm handhold of my cock and beat my meat furiously as I listened to the sounds of my parents screwing like jack-rabbits through the thin wall which separated my bedroom from the master-bedroom, as my Mom was a real screamer when she came, and she had a hell of a lot of orgasms when they fucked.
Although I definitely wasn't a virgin (I was quite an attractive, confident young man who had always been a hit with the ladies), I knew that being with Erica would be so much different than the other girls I had loved, and so much more sweet and meaningful because of our connection and our bond.
My 9" dick got painfully stiff every time I even imagined what it would be like to bend my Mom over a couch or shove her up against a wall and just ravage her with my long, aching tool. I came dozens and dozens of times dreaming of having my cock sucked down my mother's throat as the horny, mature cum-slut played with her dripping wet pussy.
I couldn't help but feel trapped and short of breath whenever I was in the same room with Mom, as if she could tell just by looking at me that I harboured such deep, inexcusable desires for her. Sometimes, I saw her glancing at me from time to time, and there was a look of such infinite sadness and longing in her eyes that seemed to mirror the very emotions I felt towards her deep inside.
A part of me began to consider that maybe she felt the very same that I did, but the larger, more rational part strongly disagreed, saying that the idea was just crazy and that I would regret it later if I made any stupid moves on my own Mom... it was far better to just keep it a fantasy and then no possible harm could ever eventuate.
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Things were to change forever between my mother Erica and I on the night of my 21st birthday... or rather, in the early hours of the morning after! My Dad Roger was out of town for the entire week, on some big business trip that he couldn't reschedule despite Mom's urgings - she had wanted him to be there for my celebrations, and be the father figure that I needed.