How I ride my sick son cock

It was a late December night when I heard the unmistakable sound of a Mustang rumbling up our driveway. I knew right away that it was my son, Jason, arriving home from college. He had texted earlier, letting us know that he had just finished his Calculus final and was planning to start the drive down soon.

My husband Mark had gone out to get some groceries, so he wasn't around to welcome Jason home. I finished rinsing off the cup that I had been washing in the sink, wiped my hands on my dress, and hurriedly walked to the front door before he had a chance to knock.

Opening the door, I had to stifle a gasp. My son looked so different from the way he did when we had dropped him off at his freshman dorm just a semester ago. Something had happened in the few months that he had been gone. I remember waving goodbye to a tearful boy. He looked nothing like the man who was in front of me now, slouching against the hood of his car with a backwards cap on, his arms crossed and biceps bulging in a college sweatshirt.

"Hey, Ma," he said, and I immediately noticed that his throat sounded a little hoarse. "Jason!" I exclaimed, running over and hugging him. He smelled a bit sweaty, which I attributed to the long drive. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed, lifting me a few inches off the ground. I was surprised. His arms felt like iron around me, and he was pressing me to his hard chest. My husband was soft with age and sweet. Jason's hug was so foreign to me that I had to fight down a blush, feeling ashamed for such a strange thought.

When Jason let go of me, I shivered at the sudden loss of warmth. I realized then that he had almost felt too warm. I placed the back of my hand on his forehead. He was burning up! "Sweetie," I said, "I think you might have a fever. Are you sick?"

"Nah, Ma," he grinned. "My roommate had a cold, but I don't think I caught it. We don't share any dishes or anything."

I hummed, skeptical. I had a feeling that in a couple of hours, he would change his mind. As I tried to recall whether our fever-reducing medicine had expired, Jason easily lifted his suitcase with one hand and walked past me into the house. I followed, closing the door behind us.

"I made a casserole and some roasted potatoes," I called as I walked over to the kitchen. Jason was returning from his room, where I assumed he had dropped off his suitcase. He pulled out one of the kitchen island barstools and sat down in it while I opened the oven with mitts to take out the steaming dishes. In the winter, I tried to use the oven as much as possible. The whole house would get warm and smell delicious when I was cooking. I carefully placed both the casserole and the potato dishes on the kitchen island. The cheese was still bubbling in the casserole. "Oh, Ma," Jason moaned. "My mouth is watering. The food at the dining hall is shit."

"Jason," I said sternly. "I don't care if you curse around your college friends, but that stops when you come to my house."

"Yes, Ma," he sighed, and if I hadn't missed him so much, I would've kept lecturing. But I couldn't, not with the way he had his elbow leaned against the kitchen island, staring at me (and the casserole) with such adoration in his eyes. I rose onto my tiptoes to open the cabinet above the stove to get him a plate, annoyed that we hadn't changed the kitchen organization to something that was more conducive to my height. With Jason and Mark around, I had fallen into the bad habit of asking them to grab the plates for dinner or telling them to put the plates away.

Before I could reach the plate, I heard Jason's chair push away from the table. Then I felt his presence right behind my back, as he reached above me and grabbed the plate. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and I leaned away from him to avoid any unnecessary contact. As I turned around, Jason went over to the food and put heaping servings on his plate, then sat down. I watched in slight awe as he leaned over the plate, shovelling the food into his mouth with his fork. It had to have burned his tongue.

"Is it good?" I laughed, a bit exasperated. I had to make sure that he didn't eat my and Mark's servings, too.

Jason looked up at me, his cheeks flushed and his face red. "Ma," he said, his voice muffled. "This is so good. I missed it so much. I missed you so much."

My heart warmed at his sweet words. "We missed you, too, sweetie."

I wasn't going to eat just yet. I wanted to wait until Mark got back from the grocery store. So instead, I sat down at the island with Jason, listening as he recounted his first semester at college. He was in the middle of telling me about an intramural basketball game when he started coughing.

I immediately stood up, concerned. I put the kettle on and searched the tea drawer for something soothing, like chamomile or honey ginger. "Ma, it's fine. Some food went down the wrong pipe."

"Sweetie, I don't think you're fine. That cough sounded pretty nasty," I said softly, making the cup of tea. I gave it to him, looking at him sternly. "Drink this. Now." He rolled his eyes, but sipped it obediently.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Mark. Hi Honey. I met Mr. Edgar at the store. We're going to stop by the bar on the way home. Tell Jason I'll see him soon! I swallowed my disappointment. Mark was a good husband. He loved me a lot, and he was a hard worker at his job, always making sure we were comfortable. But he was also a bit careless and neglected to form a close bond with his son. They had argued a lot before Jason had left for college. I had hoped that this time apart would help them rebuild their relationship, but it almost seemed like Mark was actively avoiding coming home to see Jason.

I put my phone down, irritated, then turned to Jason. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were starting to look a bit glassy. "You need to lie down," I said firmly. To my surprise, he didn't protest. Instead, he nodded and clumsily got to his feet. He must really be sick, I thought. He would've made a big fuss otherwise. I followed him down the hall to his room, stopping only to give him some medicine.

Jason's room was dark, and I went over to his desk and turned on his lamp. It cast soft, warm light on the walls. When I turned back around, my son was taking off his sweater and toeing off his socks before he dropped his pants to the ground. I averted my eyes and then shook my head and looked back at him. There was no reason to do that. He still had his boxers on, and anyway, he was my son! I had seen him naked pretty much every year of his life. This wasn't weird, and it wasn't wrong.

Except it was weird and a bit wrong. Gone was the gangly, pale teenager. Jason's chest was muscled and well-defined, and my traitorous eyes strayed lower; a sharp V cut into his lower abdomen, which was also rippling with muscles as he moved. His thighs were bigger and a bit hairier. He was just bigger overall. I tried to be as casual as I could and forced myself to look at his face. He was so feverish that I don't think he noticed, and the room was dark, anyway. Jason slumped into bed, and I pulled the comforter up and around him, my face hot. Maybe I was also coming down with a cold. That had to be it. There was no other reason for my body to feel this warm.

"I'm going to go eat and tidy up the kitchen. You call if you need anything," I said to him softly, brushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead. He nodded, his eyes closed.

**

After I finished with the kitchen, I checked my phone again. There were no more texts from Mark. He was probably still at the bar. I sent him a quick text: Make sure you take a cab home tonight. Please don't drive!

It was getting pretty late. I settled down on the living room couch with a bowl of vanilla ice cream, my favourite. I was watching a true crime show, and it was really getting good. I stared at the TV, my spoon forgotten in my mouth, when I heard a thud behind me. I jumped and spun around, my heart in my throat. There was a shadowy figure in the hall leading to the bedrooms. I almost screamed before I remembered with a jolt that Jason had come home. It was just my son. "Jason!" I whisper-screamed. "You scared me! What do you need, sweetie?"

"Ma," he groaned, voice raspy. "I keep having bad dreams. Can you come sit with me?" He had to be a bit out of it, with how whiny he was being.

I smiled fondly. It had to be those fever dreams that Jason had gotten all of his life. "Of course. Let's go back to bed."

We returned to his room, and I tucked him back in. I sat on the side of his bed, rubbing his bare back in soothing circles. He turned around and stuck his arm out, brushing my breast as he went to grab my hand. I leaned back quickly, ignoring the way my nipple tightened with that brief touch. "Ma," Jason groaned. "I'm cold. Can you get in the bed with me?"

I felt a bit hesitant to do so, but swallowed the strange feeling. I had cuddled with my son in bed many times. This was no different. Still, to stay on the side of caution, I tucked the comforter neatly around Jason before lying down on top of the sheets instead of inside them with him. At once, he turned to face me completely. His eyes were still closed, and his cheeks glowed red in the lamplight. I felt a bit stifled by the heat radiating from his body. As I tried to relax and close my eyes, Jason's arm fell heavy across my torso, hugging me around the waist and pulling me flush to him. I thanked God that I had put the comforter between us and squeezed my legs together. I wondered desperately if I, too, had a fever.

Jason tucked his head into the juncture between my neck and shoulder, and I couldn't help but gasp. "Ma," he mumbled, mouthing the words into my skin, "You feel so nice. You're so soft. It's so nice,"

"Jason," I said, with a bit of warning, and tried to pull out of his grip. But he was so strong. He pulled me even closer than I had been before. I felt every hard muscle of his body against my own, searing hot even with the comforter between us. "Ma," he whispered, his lips hot on my neck. "Ma, don't go,"

Suddenly, I realized that my underwear was damp. No, no no no! This was not related to anything that was happening right now, I thought desperately. This was just my body's natural reaction to being near a red-blooded man. I was disgusted with myself, but I couldn't move out of Jason's iron grip. I had no idea what to do, so I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to go to sleep.

But Jason was restless in his feverish slumber. He moaned and held me tight, mumbling nonsensical words against my skin. I was feeling hotter and hotter, and the spot between my legs was getting wetter and wetter. A few tears of shame welled in my eyes and rolled across the bridge of my nose and down my temple, soaking into the bedsheets. I was so worked up that when I felt the hard ridge of something against my back, I almost groaned out loud. This was a different hardness, not like the muscles of his chest. There was something hot, throbbing and insistent behind me, and I prayed that Jason wouldn't wake up. This entire situation was too embarrassing to bear.

At this point, my mind was racing. I felt crazy, past the limits of coherent thought. My husband hadn't touched me in months. My son was here, next to me, hard as steel and so feverish that he had no idea what was going on. I decided, swallowing my shame, that a little wiggle wouldn't hurt. I pushed my ass back just a few inches, heart beating wildly. Behind the comforter, Jason's cock slipped heavily between my ass cheeks, and I gasped. This was insane. This was so wrong. But my pussy was pulsing and dripping, and I wanted a little more. I pushed back some more. Immediately, Jason roughly pulled me back against him, grinding his erection on my ass. "What?" he murmured sleepily, his hips rutting against my ass in sweet little stutters.

"Nothing, sweetie. Go back to sleep," I said soothingly. This was as far as we should go. It was already so wrong, anyway.

But Jason didn't seem like he was going to stop any time soon. "Ma," he breathed, rubbing against me. "You feel so soft and nice," He had said something similar before, I remembered. "Ma," Jason said again, whining. "You're so soft. Won't you come here?" With one hand, he took the comforter out from under his side and pulled me close, enveloping both of us in its warmth. My heart was beating out of my chest. Now, there were only a few layers of flimsy fabric between us. When Jason pulled me back against his crotch, my pussy rubbed against the head of his cock. Everything was damp and sticky. I was so wet that I was dripping down my legs. Please, I thought Please let him think that I'm just sweaty.

I was wearing a nice sundress, one that I had worn to church just a few days prior. I desperately tried to remember the sermon we had been given while Jason's hand smoothed down my front, creeping lower and lower. "Ma, you're so warm. You're warm everywhere. Are you warm here, too?" Jason mumbled, his voice sweet. I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut as his large fingers slipped clumsily under the waistband of my underwear.

"Jason," I said, trying to sound as firm as possible. But my voice sounded breathy and flustered, not strict. "Yeah, Ma?" he said softly, parting my pussy lips with his fingers. I was slick and so, so wet. "Ma, you're warm here, too. And you're wet. Ma, why are you wet?" I was a bit angry. Here was my son, his hand stuffed down my panties, teasing me!

"It's just sweat, sweetie," I protested, hating how soft my voice sounded.

"No, it isn't, Ma," Jason whispered, then sank two fingers smoothly into my pussy. I gasped with shock, instinctively bearing down on the digits.

"Oh, my God," I said, as my son began lazily pumping his fingers in and out of my pussy, never fully removing them. "That 's-this is-Jason!" I moaned as his fingers curved up to rub on my G-spot.

"Ma, I learned so much in college. I learned Calculus and Economics and How to Make a Girl Cum. Don't you want to know all that I've learned?" Jason whispered, voice a bit slurred. I knew this was the fever talking.

"This isn't right. You know it. I know it." I whispered furiously, even as his fingers worked inside of me. They were coated in my juices. Horrified, I realized that the room was quiet except for the slick sound of my son fingering me!

"I don't care, Ma. I don't ca-are!" he said in a sing-song voice, rutting against me again. Then he quickly removed his fingers from inside me, and I had to stifle a noise of disappointment. That disappointment swiftly gave way to shock as I realized Jason was using that hand to remove my panties and his boxers.

"Jason, sweetie, what are you doing?" I asked, trying to be patient with him. After all, he was sick.

"Ma, feel this. It's me, Ma," he whispered, clumsily pushing his cock against my uncovered ass. I felt the hot, damp skin of his cock on me, and my pussy pulsed insistently.

"Ma," my son whined, holding me close and cupping my sex with his hand.

"What?" I snapped.

"Ma, won't you let me put it in you a little?"

I was shocked. "Absolutely not. Are you insane? Your father will be home soon!" I had no idea how much time would go by. Then I realized with shame that I didn't want Mark to come home, not yet.

"Please, Ma. Please?"

I tried to put some distance between us, but it was futile. Jason slipped one finger back into my sopping wet pussy and just held it there.

"Mommy. Please? Mommy, you just feel too good. Just a little?"

My mouth wasn't working. The word no was stuck in my throat. I wanted this just as much as my son did.

"Okay, Mommy. I'm gonna put it in a little, okay?" Jason mumbled. I stayed silent and nodded quickly. The thick head of his cock nudged against my pussy a couple of times. I felt Jason reorient himself behind me. He put one arm under my head and used his other hand to open up my pussy a little, then he pulled me back onto his cock. This time, it went in a little more. I felt crazy, almost like I was about to come. But I had to be the voice of reason in this situation. I had to put a stop to this.

"Isn't that enough, sweetie? Haven't you had enough of this, now?" I murmured, tightening around his cock. It was so big. I had no idea where he got that from. Mark had always been on the small side, but at least he knew how to use his mouth.

But Jason whined, "Mommy, I want more," and thrust up into me. His cock slid smoothly to a hilt inside of my wet pussy, and I wailed wantonly. He was so big and thick. I was stretched around him, held in place by his arms and cock. I could feel his balls resting on my thighs.

"Oh my God, Mommy. This is what Mark gets whenever he wants? It's not-it's not fairrr," Jason grunted, grinding up into me. I couldn't speak, only moan. The head of his cock rubbed against my G-spot over and over with each thrust. I could feel my wetness covering his cock and balls, smearing between us.

Suddenly, Jason pushed me over onto my front, and I gasped. I was lying prone on the bed now, and he was heavy on top of me, slipping in and out of me smoothly as his balls slapped against my ass. "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy," he whimpered, then slipped one hand under me to touch my clit. Where had he learned how to do that? I thought, pinned to the bed. The pleasure was too much. My vagina was pulsing with every thrust.

"Jason, sweetie, you're so good at this." I couldn't help but praise him. I'd been praising him all his life, so it wasn't so different from it was now.

"Thank you, Mommy," my son said, rubbing tight circles on my sensitive clit as he fucked me. His thrusts were getting more erratic, and I thought, In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Jason-Oh-you can't come yet. You need to-oh, fuck-make Mommy come first, o-okay?" I said, my voice fractured between moans.

"Whatever you want, Mommy," my son whispered, slowing his thrusts to grind against me slowly, still rubbing my clit.

"Okay, sweetie. Keep doing that," I said, feeling close. A fresh wave of pleasure washed over me, and my clit began to throb harder under his touch. "Yes, just like that. Good job!"

Then I realized that something was happening to me that hadn't happened in years. My pussy gripped Jason's cock. "Sweetie, I'm going to squirt on your c-cock, okay?"

"Please, Mommy. Please squirt everywhere!" Jason cried out, grinding against me harder. The pressure built in my pussy until it was too much, and then warm liquid started splashing out with every shallow thrust, soaking the sheets.

"Fuck, baby, my sweet boy, you're making me come!" I sighed as my pussy clenched around him.

"Oh, my Goddd," Jason moaned, and he began to slam his cock into me harshly. My orgasm went on and on as he bumped against my cervix in a way that felt so good it hurt. "Mommy, can I come here? Please, can I come inside you? Please, please, please.." with every thrust, Jason begged. I wasn't ovulating anymore, I thought hazily, letting him pound into me. Little shocks of pleasure rippled through my vagina.

"Yes, baby. If you want to," I murmured, smiling. I was drooling onto the pillow under me, and I could feelJason's hot muscles rubbing my back.

"Fuck, Mommy! I want to so badly! I'm going to come!" He groaned. "Fu-uck. Mommy! Oh, I'm coming in you! I'm coming, Mommy!" His balls slapped furiously against my legs as he worked in and out of my dripping pussy. I felt the warm rush of come in my vagina and clenched around his cock, coming once more. I had never felt such pleasure in my life.

When it was all over, my son held me close, his cock softening inside me. I realized that he was much less hot than before, and that his fever had probably broken.
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