Elena stood in the marble hallway of the house that no longer felt like home.
The divorce papers were still warm in her manicured fingers, ink barely dry.
Twenty-two years of marriage, gone.
Her husband—ex-husband now—had been fucking his twenty-five-year-old secretary on the same desk where Elena used to leave him homemade lunches.
She didn't cry.
She burned.
Burned so hot that when she looked across the kitchen island at her son, Lucas, leaning against the counter in gray sweatpants, something twisted low in her belly.
He was twenty-one, home from college for the summer, taller than his father now, broader too.
The thin cotton of his pants did nothing to hide the heavy sway of what hung between his thighs.
Elena's nipples tightened beneath her silk robe.
She'd stopped wearing bras months ago; the weight of her 34J breasts made anything else feel like prison.
The robe slipped open just enough to reveal the deep valley of her cleavage, beads of sweat collecting there in the July heat.
"Mom?" Lucas's voice was soft, worried. "You okay?"
She crossed the room slowly, hips rolling, thick ass straining the robe's belt.
When she reached him she didn't speak.
She simply took his hand and pressed it flat against her left breast, right over her racing heart.
Feel what he did to me, baby.
Feel what I'm becoming.
Lucas swallowed, throat bobbing.
His palm burned against her skin.
"Mom…"
"We're leaving tonight," she whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Just you and me. The lakehouse. No one will ever hurt us again."
The lakehouse sat on ten private acres, all pine and water and silence.
No neighbors. No Wi-Fi. Just the creak of old wood and the slap of waves against the dock.
Elena wore nothing but oversized linen shirts for three straight days—Lucas's shirts.
They hung to mid-thigh, buttons straining over her tits, the hem riding up whenever she bent over to pull something from the fridge.
Every time she did, Lucas's eyes locked on the plump, bare lips of her pussy flashing beneath—always glossy, always dripping.
She never wore panties anymore. Why start now?
On the third night the power went out.
Thunder rolled over the water like a warning.
They lit candles, poured wine, sat on the couch facing each other.
Elena's thighs parted slowly, deliberately.
The shirt slipped off one shoulder, baring the heavy globe of her breast, nipple thick and dark and begging.
"Touch me, sweetheart," she said, voice trembling with love, not shame. "I've wanted your hands on me since the day you turned eighteen. I just… I waited until I was free."
Lucas's cock surged against his shorts, the outline obscene—eleven inches of fat, veiny meat that made her mouth water.
He crawled forward on his knees, eyes glassy with worship.
"Mom… you're the most beautiful woman in the world."
His big hands cupped her tits, thumbs circling her nipples until she moaned.
She reached down, freed his cock, and fuck—he was even bigger than she'd dreamed.
The head was flushed purple, slick with precum, a thick rope of it already dripping onto her thigh.
Elena wrapped both hands around him and still couldn't close her fingers.
She pumped once, twice, watching his abs clench.
"I'm going to take care of you now," she whispered. "Every single day. This cock belongs to Mommy."
Rain hammered the tin roof.
Lightning flashed white, illuminating Elena on her knees between Lucas's spread thighs.
She took her time.
Licked a long, wet stripe from his heavy balls to the flared head, tongue swirling through the slit to steal his precum.
He groaned, hips jerking.
"Easy, baby," she purred. "Mommy wants to savor her favorite meal."
She swallowed him down—six inches, seven—throat fluttering around the invasion.
Her jaw ached gloriously. Saliva dripped over her chin, onto her swinging tits.
She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock.
"Stand up. I need you inside me. Now."
Lucas obeyed instantly.
Elena turned, planted her hands on the back of the couch, arched her spine until her fat ass was presented like an offering.
Her pussy lips were swollen, glistening, clit peeking out like a ripe berry.
He gripped her hips—fingers sinking into soft flesh—and lined up.
One slow push and the head breached her.
They both cried out.
Elena was so wet the sound was obscene—schlick-schlick-schlick as he fed her inch after thick inch.
When he bottomed out, his balls pressed flush against her clit, she sobbed in relief.
"Move, baby. Fuck your mother exactly how you've always wanted."
Lucas pulled back until only the head remained, then slammed home.
Again. Again. The couch rocked. Her tits swung like pendulums.
Every thrust sent a fresh gush of cream down her thighs.
"Harder," she begged. "Make me feel it for days."
He obliged, pounding her so hard her ass rippled, the wet slap of skin echoing over the storm.
She reached back, spread her cheeks wider, showing him everything—her tight asshole winking, her pussy stretched obscenely around his cock.
"I'm gonna cum," he growled.
"Inside," she gasped. "Fill Mommy up. Breed me, baby. I want every drop."
His rhythm stuttered.
He buried himself to the root and erupted—rope after thick rope of hot cum painting her insides.
The feeling triggered her own orgasm; her pussy clamped down, milking him relentlessly as she screamed his name.
They stayed locked together, panting, his cock still pulsing.
Cum leaked around his shaft, dripping in thick globs onto the hardwood floor.
Elena turned in his arms, cupped his face, kissed him slow and deep—tongues sliding, tasting each other.
"I love you," she whispered against his lips. "More than anything. This is only the beginning."
Outside, the storm kept raging.
Inside, mother and son held each other, hearts beating as one, already hungry for round two.
The sky bled pink and gold when Elena woke him with soft kisses down his spine.
She was already naked, skin warm from sleep, heavy breasts swaying as she crawled over him.
"Come," she whispered, tugging his hand. "I want you inside me while the sun comes up."
Lucas followed her barefoot across the cool wooden planks of the private dock.
Morning mist curled off the lake like steam.
Elena spread a thick quilt at the very end, then lay back, thighs falling open in invitation.
Her pussy was already drenched, lips puffy and glistening in the dawn light.
A single bead of cream slid down to her asshole and kept going, disappearing between the quilt's folds.
Lucas dropped to his knees between her legs, cock jutting up against his stomach, eleven inches of morning-hard need.
Elena reached for him, guiding the fat head to her entrance.
"Slow this time, baby," she breathed. "I want to feel every inch stretch me open."
He pushed in, agonizingly slow.
The slick sound of her body welcoming him filled the quiet, schlick… schlick… schlick, until his balls rested against her ass and they both groaned.
Elena locked her ankles behind his back, heels digging into his ass.
"Stay deep. Just… rock."
They moved like the lake itself, gentle waves, tiny thrusts that kept him buried to the hilt.
Every grind dragged the ridge of his cockhead across her G-spot; every roll of her hips smeared her clit against his pubic bone.
Minutes stretched into an eternity of wet, lazy fucking.
Birds called overhead. Water lapped beneath them.
Elena's tits bounced softly with each roll, nipples tight and dark against her pale skin.
"Look at me," she said, voice trembling. "Watch Mommy cum on her son's perfect cock."
Lucas's eyes locked on hers as her pussy began to flutter.
She didn't scream this time, just a broken, loving whimper, her walls rippling, milking him in slow, rhythmic pulses.
Fresh cream oozed around his shaft, coating his balls.
That was all it took.
He buried his face in her neck and let go, pumping thick, endless ropes of cum straight into her womb.
She held him tight, legs shaking, whispering, "Yes, yes, give me everything, baby, fill me up, I love you so much…"
When he finally slipped free, a river of their mixed release followed, pooling beneath her ass on the quilt.
Elena scooped some onto her fingers and sucked them clean, eyes never leaving his.
"Breakfast," she teased, voice husky.
Lucas laughed, breathless, and kissed her slow and deep, tasting both of them on her tongue.
They stayed on the dock until the sun burned away the mist, still joined, still leaking, still utterly, perfectly in love.