I moved into the attic room on the roof just after my fifteenth birthday. I loved the isolation, the feeling of separation, almost independence, it gave me. I felt master of my own domain, in charge, when all that changed was I now lived above my parent’s bedroom in our rather cramped house in the suburbs. My younger siblings now at last had bedrooms to themselves, something that benefited us all. Three years went by and nothing changed apart from when I left college and started University. My sister grew into a fantastic young athlete on the swim team and my little brother, her twin, turned seventeen and joined the Army.

A few weeks back, I noticed a tiny sliver of light shining up into my room. My floor is made from wooden floorboards, old and a few are warped and a little twisted with age. I have a carpet in one half of the room covering where my desk and chair are. I first noticed it as a dappled light on the slope of the ceiling. It took me a while to figure out where it came from. It remained there for only a short time, maybe twenty minutes or so before it disappeared and it only occurred at the same time each afternoon. I came home for the weekend from University and saw it on the Saturday afternoon, around two o’clock. I knelt on the floor and placed my eye over the light. It took me some time to figure out that the afternoon sun shone through the open window and on to a mirror placed on a small table next to my parent’s bed. I’m guessing the crack had been there forever but I had not noticed it until Mom placed the mirror on the table recently.

I waited until the sun moved away and looked again. I could see a thin slice of my parent’s bed, about three feet wide from the head to about two-thirds of the way down on the right side of the bed. I had only ever been in my parent’s bedroom as a kid, not since I reached about eleven or twelve. I knew my Mom slept on that side of the bed. I also knew that if you lay on the bed and looked up, you could see the wooden rafters supporting the wooden floorboards of my bedroom. My father painted the whole room white a couple of times since we had lived there.

I barely thought about the crack in my floor while I attended classes and played soccer at university for the next seven weeks. With the semester over, I had a couple of weeks off before spring break beckoned. This year, though, it would be different. The virus meant there would be no beach parties. I planned to go camping with my best buddy, Marshall, and his sister in the Catskills, away from the crowds. He assured me he would have his girlfriend with him and that his sister had the hots for me. With that in mind, I spent several afternoons and evenings fantasizing about Melanie and all the things she would do to me, with me and for me, not to mention all the things I would do for her for the week we were alone in the tent. These fantasies inevitably led to an erection which inevitably led to me jacking off, catching my ejaculation in a hand-towel placed strategically under the chair.

Later that afternoon, I sat in the kitchen drinking a quart of milk. Mom had been to the gym and returned still glistening with a sheen of sweat. She hurried through the kitchen and said,

“Hi, Honey. I’m going for a shower. I might take a nap for an hour. Will you be okay?”

“Sure, Mom. I’ve been okay since my twelfth birthday, thanks for asking.”

She laughed and trotted up the stairs. I took a few minutes to finish my glass of milk and rinsed the glass. Mom appeared to be in a good mood, something I hadn’t seen for some time. I went up to my room with the intention of doing some study for my thesis, The Effect of Global Warming on Desertification in sub-Saharan Africa. A best-seller in the making, for sure. I could hear the faintest bars of a song from under the floor. I could hear Mom singing, something she did only when happy. I think it might have been an old ballad, Bread, maybe, or The Commodores? Out of curiosity, I knelt on the floor and placed my eye above the crack in the floor. I very nearly cried out when I looked down at the bed and focussed properly. Mom had stopped singing. She had lain a towel on the bed, a large bath towel. Lying on top of the towel, I could see a purple vibrator and a tube of KY jelly. A second later, my naked mother lay back on the bed, legs akimbo, opened the tube, applied a tiny drop of lubricant to the head of the vibrator and slipped the tip directly into her ass!

She pressed the tip of the vibrator and arched her hips, rolling her ass up as she raised her feet off the bed. Lifting them high above her, her right foot obscured a good portion of my view until she moved again, lifting her legs almost over her head! She plunged the vibrator in and out of her ass, slowly at first, then gathering pace. Her left hand rubbed at her pussy, sliding her fingers inside, around, over and back inside, making the whole area wet with her juice. Now her right hand held the vibrator deep inside her. I had the idea I could hear the faintest buzzing with my head so close to the floor. Her left hand flashed across her pussy now, accelerating the pace. Her head rocked back, her neck strained and reddened as her climax approached.

I had to roll to the side and ease my erection out of my pants, bone hard and uncomfortable, as I lay on the floor. I unzipped and pushed my pants down around my hips. Now I could pump, getting hurriedly up to speed to catch up with Mom, who fast approached completion by the look of things. Her breasts, not large but adequate, I guess, rotated as she pumped with her right hand, her hard, dark-brown nipples making perfect little circles. She now had her knees tucked behind her elbows, her legs spread as wide as she could ever get them. The vibrator plunged, her hand flew, liquid squished and slopped out of her pussy as she began to moan quietly as she came. She squealed, just a little yelp and slapped her pussy with her left hand, flinging clear liquid over her belly and thighs. Her head shook from side to side, her right hand held the vibrator still now, pushed deep with her. Her left hand made slow, gentle circles over her pussy lips as the flow of liquid diminished and finally stopped. She pulled the vibrator out, pressed the top, lowered her legs and dropped them straight onto the bed. She relaxed, the vibrator lying on the towel next to her. Her head lay flat now. She opened her eyes, looked directly at me and I came.

I rolled a little onto my side and then onto my back as I came, anxious to avoid splashing my cum onto the carpet off to my right. I held my erection up against my stomach, shooting long streaks of cum up over my belly and chest until after about six or seven massive contractions, my balls were drained, my climax finished, my body flooded with endorphins and a wet T-shirt to maneuver over my head. I rolled back to the crack. Mom hadn’t moved. She had closed her eyes and looked to have the tiniest smile on her lips. I guessed she might have dozed off. I scrunched my shirt, squeezing the cum into the cotton, then eased it over my head without getting any cum on my face. I bundled the shirt up and tossed it in the wash basket. I needed a shower. A cold shower. I had just jacked off to the sight of my Mom jacking off.

Back in my room, I checked the crack. Mom had gone into the shower; I could hear the water running. I decided to take the bike out and get some exercise. I dried and dressed in my cycling garb. I needed time to think about what I’d just done. I eased along the lane down to the beach and when level, increased the pace to get my blood pumping. My Mom is forty-two. She looks good for her age. She works out three days a week and has a rowing machine she uses every morning. Her body is in great shape, tight and lean. Her figure is as good as it gets and her blonde hair is the highlight of the ensemble, shining, wavy, long and always clean and well groomed. She has an attractive face, well, I would call it beautiful, but I guess I’m biased.

Dad moved out six months back, moving in with his assistant from the transport company he runs on the edge of the city. She’s twenty years younger than him and looks about the same shape and age as my Mom. I hate him for being so stupid and I just don’t like her because she looks so dumb next to my mother. Mom looked heart broken for weeks, a few months even. Today was the first time I saw her smiling and heard her singing since it happened. I tried to think of Melanie and her young body but every time I tried, all I saw was my naked Mom shaking her body as she came in a rush of blood and sexual abandon on the bed not eight feet away from me. I now know that my mother has a flat mole about the size of a dime on the lower quadrant of her backside, about an inch from her ass on the right side. That is not something a son should ever know about his mother.

I cycled for an hour, my FitBit telling me how great things were as I pounded out the miles on the road following the coastline. I turned for home and raced as hard as I could manage for thirty more minutes. When I walked through the kitchen and saw Mom sitting at the counter working her phone with both thumbs, a glass of white sitting in front of her smiling face. She wore cotton shorts and a three button shirt, leaving her waist bare.

“Hi, Mom. I need a shower. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

“Okay, Honey. We must talk.”

Oh, my god! What was she going to talk about? It could only be that she saw me watching her have a massive orgasm a couple of hours ago. She must be able to see the crack, see my eye as I looked down on her. I showered, cold and long, cooling my body enough to get dried and dressed. Jeans and a T would do. I ambled down the stairs and grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge. As I poured a pint, Mom said,

“So, how was your day? Anything interesting? Any surprises? Anything unexpected? Anything new?”

What does she know? What did she see? Did she see my eye? Surely not, she just looked up at the ceiling after she came, is all. God, I can still see it now; her body looking so wanton, so sexy, so hot. I felt a stirring in my pants. I hoped Mom wouldn’t notice. I moved to the other side of the breakfast counter to make sure.

“Er, not really. I chatted with the guys on the soccer team this morning, then with Marshall about our trip next week, then I took the bike out. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I just wondered if you’d noticed anything different, anything that might have surprised you, that’s all.”

“Ah, well, yes, I did. You were singing when you went up for your shower. You’re happy about something.”

Mom smiled, locking eyes with mine. She looked so damn sexy when she smiled like that. I wanted to kiss her but she’s my Mom.

“You heard me singing in the bedroom? Really. I must have been louder than I thought! That’s what I wanted to tell you! Yes, you’re right, I’m happy for once. I have a date! You remember Gordon Connelly, the real estate guy from along the road? I met him at the gym this morning and we chatted. His wife left him for a younger man four months ago and he’s only just today come out of the house. He said he was in terrible shape and needed to get over the drinking and overeating. I told him I knew just what he meant and we just kind of hit it off. We’re going for dinner to Virginia Beach on Saturday. Tables booked and so is my appointment at the beauty parlor tomorrow. Whoo hoo! Give you mother a hug, she’s got a date!”

She jumped off the stool and stood for her hug. I tower over her by at least a foot so my waist is about level with her navel. I didn’t expect any physical contact with my mother so had done nothing to reposition my erection. She grabbed me and held me close. I put my arms around her shoulders and leaned on her hair, just a little. I could feel her flat belly up against my cock. She held me still, not moving her arms around my waist. Then… then she squeezed. She squeezed me and held still. She squeezed harder and pushed her belly into me. My erection lay trapped between me and my mother’s belly, hard as iron. She kept hold, maintained the squeeze and turned her head up to me. I looked down at her face, a few inches from mine. She smiled again, that sexy, warm, inviting smile.

“Is that for me, Honey?” she said.

I groaned and looked up at the ceiling. My hormones raged as a nineteen-year-old’s hormones do, spreading lust throughout my body, firing my synapses with visions of me replacing her hand, her vibrator, pounding into her just as she had done a couple of hours earlier. I looked down again. Mom tilted her head, lowered her eyelids and pulled me down to her lips. Powerless to resist, I let it happen. My lips touched hers, son to mother, a chaste, familial kiss. That all changed when I felt her tongue lick my lips. I groaned again and let her in. I opened my mouth just enough for her to wriggle the tip of her tongue into my teeth. Cascades of desire, confusion, joy, happiness and lust overwhelmed me. I opened my mouth and connected in the most intimate way possible, tongue to tongue with my mother.

We kissed for maybe two minutes. She held my head with her left hand, her right lay on my chest in front of her breasts. I held her shoulders and lower back, pulling her into me, letting her feel my lust, my passion, my hardness, my rampant youthful craving for sexual union. We swapped saliva, sucking, pressing, sliding, pushing, pulling and biting gently. Her hand slid down between us. She moved back just enough to allow it to turn and grip my cock. She squeezed, feeling the length and the breadth in her small hand. She slid down further, grasping the base and tried to get her fingers around it. The cotton jeans were in the way.

“The sofa. No-one can see in there, quickly.”

She tugged on my cock, pulling me into the next room. The sofa faced the TV, away from the windows. As she led the way, she unbuttoned her shirt and threw it on the floor, then her shorts followed, landing on top of her shirt. No bra, she got down to just her pants and they flicked off and landed close to the kitchen door. She grabbed at my pants as I pulled my tee over my head and added to the pile. She unzipped me and slid both pants down my thighs, down my calves and over each ankle as she got me naked. Kneeling down to undress me led to her head being on a level with my cock. She did the natural thing, turned her head and opened her mouth.

I had become accustomed to groaning today. Now, I did it again. Standing next to the sofa, I held on to the back for support, since my knees were feeling decidedly weak. I put it down to the sprint cycling I had done but in reality, my mother’s mouth on my dick, sucking, slurping the head, pumping the shaft, cradling my sack, fondling my balls and yet more sucking and pumping made me feel weak.

“Jeez, when did you get this? Last time I looked, you were like an acorn.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She resumed her sucking and pumping. Her technique seemed well practiced and efficient. My arousal level surged, my climax would be coming far too soon if she continued.

“Mom, slow down. I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

She slowed her pumping, stopped her sucking, opened her mouth and moved her head back a few inches. She looked up at me without letting go of my cock and said,

“Then come, plenty of time for another after you give me my reward. Just relax, Honey. Go with the flow.”

She resumed, same as before, sucking, pumping, slurping, kissing, spitting some saliva onto the crown, pumping some more until I felt the trigger being pulled deep within my belly. There would be no stopping it now, no matter how hard I clenched my muscles, no going back. I told her.

“Mom, I’m gonna come, fuck, Mom, now, now, now!” I groaned, loud and fierce, again!

She slowed her pumping,...