The night wraps the house in a silent embrace as I undress taking off my clothes and underwear and put on my nightie leaving off my underwear. It’s a light, airy piece, offering a small sense of comfort in these unsettling times. My reflection betrays the worry lines etched by recent events – Ethan’s sleepwalking has evolved from a mere oddity to a nightly concern.
Since he started college, Ethan’s nocturnal wanderings have not only persisted but grown more intense. Each night, he finds his way to my room, his eyes glazed over in a sleepwalker’s trance. By morning, he recalls nothing. It’s a routine that’s become both familiar and deeply disconcerting.
The house feels colder tonight, its silence more pronounced. As I slip into bed, my thoughts linger on Ethan, his once cheerful demeanour now often shadowed with an unspoken heaviness.
Then, in the depths of the night, a sound shatters the stillness. My bed creaks softly, a noise so subtle yet so foreign in the quiet room. My breath hitches in fear. Slowly, I feel a presence beside me – Ethan, his body unnaturally close, his hands gripping my hips.
Frozen in shock and fear, I whisper, “Ethan?”
There’s no response, only the steady rhythm of his breathing. He’s here, yet he’s not. Lost in a world where I can’t follow.
“Ethan, you need to go back to your room,” I urge my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with a mix of fear and maternal concern.
But he remains still, his grip unyielding. The realization hits me like a wave – Ethan’s sleepwalking has crossed into uncharted territory, a realm far beyond my understanding.
I woke up to the bed rocking side to side and I was panting, an intense feeling between my legs of something inside my vagina, the bed was squeaking and my nightie was up over my tits. The clock on my nightstand read 3:45 am, an ungodly hour for most, but lately, it had become a recurring time for my consciousness to stir due to Ethan’s sleepwalking episodes.
Frozen in shock and fear, OMG, “Ethan, mmm oh fuck, what are you doing to me, please pull it out of me I am your mom oh fuck it feels good…”
There was no reply, just the continued slapping sounds, the heat and pressure building between my thighs as my son took me from behind. My heart hammered against my chest, my breath caught in my throat. I turned my head, and the moonlight revealed his face, eyes closed, brow slightly furrowed, lost in the throes of whatever dream was playing out in his head.
“Ethan, oh fucking hell, you shouldn’t be… mmmm… fucking mommy like this, you need to go back to your room,” I urged my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with a mix of fear and maternal concern.
He didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch. My words seemed to fall on deaf ears as he remained steadfast in his rhythm, driving into me with a need that seemed to transcend his unconscious state. The realization that my son, my boy, was pumping his cock into my pussy, the very place he came from.
The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of my vagina was undeniable, his balls slapping against me, my tits bouncing slightly with each of his unconscious thrusts. It was wrong, it was insane, but my body was betraying me, responding to his touch, to the taboo act that was unfolding.
“God, we… we should stop… mmmm, but I can’t get enough of this. It feels so good,” I heard myself moan softly, a part of me horrified at the pleasure I was deriving from this situation. His grip on my hips was firm and possessive, and he was still manage to hammer my pussy, his mommy in his sleep.
“Mmm, yes… oh fucking hell, just like that, give it to me,” I whispered, caught up in the moment, my mind clouded by the intensity of the sensation.
“Oh my pussy, I can’t believe your fucking me, Mmmm fuck fuck it harder,” I found myself pleading even though I knew he couldn’t hear me, the bed continuing to squeak and rock beneath us. As his determined cock just continued to slide in and out of me at a much faster rate.
“Fuck me harder! Deeper!” I cried out, the walls of my pussy clenching tightly around him as I neared the edge of an earth-shattering climax.
“Ah, ah, ah! I can’t get enough of your cock! Fill mommy up oh my pussy!” I tried to be quiet, no longer able to contain the feelings his cock was giving me and that had been awoken by my son’s sleepwalking indiscretion.
“Oh fuck, yes! I’m so close, I’m gonna cum, I can’t believe my son was going to make me cum” I moaned loudly, my voice filled with a lustful urgency that I couldn’t suppress. How is he fucking me in his sleep? I should have stopped it, but I knew waking him would be dangerous. Hey, it isn’t like I wanted this, I woke up to him already pounding me.
The intensity was building to a fever pitch, the line between dream and reality blurring as I felt the onset of an orgasm like no other. But just as I was about to tumble over the edge, a voice in my head screamed for reason, for control.
I couldn’t let this happen, it was wrong, But the pleasure was too overwhelming, my body betraying me as I felt my walls clenching around his cock, milking him for all he was worth.
His thrusts became more erratic, his breathing ragged as he neared his own release. I could feel his hot breath on my neck, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he pounded into me with a primal ferocity.
I pushed my face into the pillow with an intense muffled strong moan as my pussy squirted and soaked his cock and the bed sheets.
my body trembling as the pleasure took over. I could feel him tense up, his movements becoming more frenzied as he finally came, feeling spurt after spurt inside me.
I gently pushed him out of me and slowly got up, my legs feeling wobbly as I made my way to the bathroom. As I cleaned myself up, I couldn’t help but think about what had just occurred. It felt like this was just a dream, but it wasn’t, I had a cum filled pussy to prove it was real.
My son did sleepwalk into my bed and started fucking me, I still couldn’t believe it. I returned to my bed, I knew that it didn’t matter. Because at that moment, in the blur of dreams and reality, I experienced the most intense orgasm of my life.
As I closed my eyes, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt and shame wash over me.
The next morning, I woke up to the sun streaming through my window, the memories of the night before flooding back to me. I couldn’t believe what had happened, but I couldn’t deny the intense arousal that coursed through me at the thought of it. As I went about my day, I couldn’t look at my son the same way. Every time I saw him, I couldn’t help but remember the way he felt inside me, the way he made me cum so hard.
#incest stories #mom #son