Just at the sweaty peak of David’s morning workout, his mother came out through the back of the house wearing the kind of bikini he’d only seen in pictures. It fit her like a bikini that didn’t fit her. The network of neon blue cords and bowknots rode the dance of her tanned, heavily curvaceous body in a way that made him feel drugged. He forgot himself and stopped, paralyzed by the way she moved through the backyard, casually inspecting and primping her flowerbeds.
Miranda was double his age of sixteen, and at least double the size of the girls who usually caught his attention, but she had a way of wearing her thick, exaggerated features like a badge of honor. Her tits were heavy and careless, while her ass was thicker and rounder than he ever imagined being packed into an outfit like hers.
Everything about Miranda was breezy and brash. It wasn’t that she was really all that big, but somehow just bigger than life. She had deep brown, Mediterranean skin that always seemed to be shining, and the finest, darkest hair he’d ever seen. Even her accent took wide, luxurious curves around the syllables when she spoke. And although she seemed petite for her size, she carried herself as tall as any woman he knew. David had always been taught to admire girls like Kayla, his girlfriend; slender girls with hard, miserly curves that could knock a man’s heart out of its natural rhythm.
He couldn’t think of a woman from home even close to Miranda’s body type having the audacity to wear anything as skimpy, but she moved with such bold confidence – perfectly at home in her skin - it put all the imaginary barriers in their place.
David looked more like his father, and didn’t bear much resemblance to his Spanish speaking mother. Since his father never made any effort to learn his wife’s native language, David had never learned much of it, but he often wished he’d made more of an effort. His mother’s feeling of isolation was something he always noticed, even when he wasn’t sure how to define it. She never fit in with the other mothers in their circles, and he’d always had a hard time dealing with the way he overheard people talking about her. His friends made all kinds of comments about his mother’s tits and ass, and their mothers made catty jibes about how a woman her size should never wear the kinds of tight, revealing clothes she always preferred.
As a result, David had gradually distanced himself from all of them. Being a star athlete, he was always popular, but he never got to close to anyone except his doting, affectionate mother.
But the thing that made him angrier than anything was the way his father treated her. It seemed as if the more he began to hate his father, the more he felt in love with his mother.
The whole planet was full of shit, and every time he thought of her David’s heart clenched like a fist full of stolen jewels.
She didn’t say hello or wave like she usually did, taking the time to be friendly and flash her bright, toothy smile. Today, she barely even seemed to notice he was there, lifting weights until his taut, shaven body was shimmering with sweat in the sun. Her eyes, dark and smoky, scanned the area as if he weren’t even part of it, surveying the barbered grounds a professional crew had worked on the day before.
David was only wearing dark blue gym shorts, and as he followed the proud jut of his mother’s big, half saddled tits, it felt like the air was shifting gears. He took a moment to pour water down his throat from the bottle beside his mat. He angled it over his head and doused himself, hoping the cool trickle would take the edge off his spiking body heat. Then he started lifting again, afraid this unexpected view of his nearly naked mother would cause his young cock to rise beyond his control.
It was bad enough being banished here for the summer, pressured to train for the talent scouts his father expected him to impress in the fall. His father had chosen the area for its sparse population. The backyard ran straight to the edge of a small lake, and the local roads were excellent for running, being mostly shaded by tall hardwoods and lightly traveled at best. He’d rented the house without discussing it with David or his mother, and simply announced that they would both spend the summer there together. When David and his mother made eye contact across the table, they both knew it was his father’s way of getting rid of them for a few months.
David had been there long enough to learn abject boredom could be a powerful motivation to spend hours working diligently to reach his father’s goal. As for his own goals, David just wanted to spend the summer hanging out with Kayla. But the time was also giving him a chance to rethink his goals. His relationship with Kayla wasn’t strong enough to survive a whole summer apart.
He felt sluggish at first, as he went back to dragging the weights toward his chest in desultory bicep curls. It felt like punishment. This whole, perfect place was nothing but a glossy prison, but he kept his eye on his hot, youthful mother, watching her move like something he was planning to dream later on. The speed of his curls slowly increased, until he was sputtering out breath with each exertion. It felt like he was punishing himself even more than his father was by sending him here, more than the unforgiving meat grinder of the university athletic system waiting to swallow him alive.
He pumped and grunted against the weight until all the muscles in his arms and shoulders were singing. Sweat poured down his face while the corner of his eye was trained on Miranda. The neon turquoise of her scant bikini stood against the creamy almond brown of her skin in bright, triangular patches that never seemed to catch up with the movement of her body.
In the slender strips of her bikini, her breasts seemed to strut with an air of mesmerizing prominence, with nipple erections that demanded attention.
David noticed everything. He noticed the way the little hollows formed in her ass muscles when she moved a particular way. He noticed the way everything about her seemed to glisten, as if she were made of something partly liquid. He noticed the way the sun played across the bunch and sway of her damp breasts, and the way her body turned in a kind of dance with her plants and flowers.
While the weight seemed to double, David’s rippling arms only seemed to pump faster and harder. Every glistening muscle in his finely tuned body stood tensely defined as his form seemed to move and strain in a single, flowing continuum of muscle and bone. His grunting gasps for air grew deeper and louder as ripe blood rushed through the meat of his sleek arms and legs, rushing to thicken his tingling cock with heat.
His mother sank to her knees on her perfectly manicured lawn, leaning down on one hand to pull at a few, stray weeds among her flowers. David grunted aloud when he saw the bright thong pull tightly along the smooth cleft delineating the spheres of her ass. Even at a distance, her pussy looked puffed and swollen against the snugly pasted gusset, and David’s straining crescendoed to a pitch, until he lifted the barbells one last time and thrust them away from his body, heaving them into the grass with a muted thud.
Miranda turned her head part way, casting an offhand glance toward the side yard and the sound of the fallen barbells, but not at David. He was wearing nothing under his shorts to stem the rising bulge of his eager cock, and he quickly turned away. Even though she was purposefully ignoring him, he knew a badly timed hard on would be hopelessly obvious.
Every muscle in his body was singing as he stood in the middle of the yard wondering which way to turn. Miranda’s stout ass and thighs faced him in raw invitation, swaying and rocking as she reached into the flowerbed with a scratching tool. His tense body felt like there was nothing but heat and steam inside. He suddenly wondered what kind of sound his hand would make swatting her ass. It was a strangely foreign thought, but the image made his pulse throb. He didn’t know why he’d never thought of it before because now it made perfect sense: his mother’s thick, round ass was created for spanking.
Irrational urgency filtered through David’s body as cravings and visions that never occurred to him before flashed through his mind. It seemed wherever his hands hung or his feet hit the matt was wrong. His mother’s body lurched forward – a frozen tableau in mid-crawl – scratching up fertile soil. David’s blood felt like didn’t fit inside his body.
A fresh pulse pounded in his temples while the prickling hot coil of meat between his thighs started to thicken and seep into his clinging shorts. In the position his mother lurched into, he couldn’t imagine the particular constellation of contours formed by her substantial ass and thighs existing anywhere else in nature. The glistening sheen across her extravagant flesh was coming on like neon – a mesmerizing blend of lotion and sweat glistening in the sun.
David’s heart jacked as he dreamt of blazing a wet lick-trail up the insides of her thick, hunkering thighs. A spear of hunger for anything that dripped off or out of her pierced him through the center.
The bright thong disappeared between the full cheeks of her ass as she stretched, but the glaring flash of turquoise pasted over the puff of her squeezed pussy beamed at David until his throat went dry. She was facing the other way. His right hand slid over the looming bulge of his cock, fingers sliding over the shaft as his cock blossomed into hardness.
As much as David realized he was being unmercifully taunted by his own, neglected mother, it still felt wrong to stand there staring at her. Even though it wasn’t necessarily out of the blue, he could barely wrap his mind around the way she was acting.
His cock was rippling with heat and punching against the thin fabric of his shorts. He could feel the damp stain spreading into them from the oozing dome of his cock as he rolled the pad of his finger around the gooey slick.
The moment she reared back, Miranda’s pussy strained against the pastel gusset of her thong, so ripe and puffy. She hovered in position a few seconds before sitting back on her haunches and stretching her body.
David wanted to turn his back and hide the prominent hardness stretching his tight shorts, but he couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off his mother. He drew a hard rush of breath, feeling the play of taut, blood engorged muscles down the front of his body. No one had ever gotten to him the way she was just then, and he wanted her to know. But then again, he was pretty sure she already did.
Miranda turned her head to the side, half looking toward him. Under the glaring sun, David’s cock pulsed and throbbed while unrelenting dribbles of precum soaked a bigger stain in his shorts.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
His mother bent forward and pressed her hands into the grass. She pushed herself up, rising to her feet with a paralyzing swivel of her durable hips.
She walked toward the back door of the house, seeming to ignore her son until she was only a few paces from the step. Without breaking stride, she tossed back her dark, flowing hair and cast a fleeting glance at him. She flashed her bright smile, and even at the distance between them David felt the brush of her eyes over his cobbled body and pulsing cock. Suddenly she went inside. When the screen door slapped shut, David gripped his aching cock though the tight skin of his shorts with a groaning exhalation of breath. It was even more disorienting now that she was gone. He squeezed his shaft and moved his hand to cup his neatly tucked balls.
He wanted to follow her inside, but his feet refused to move. He thought of her moving through the house, the way her body would turn and quiver as she moved. He wondered if she could possibly be wet now, running her hands over the opulent curves of her gleaming body. Could she possibly be thinking of the flashing glimpse she had of his painfully swollen cock?
She was there. Close enough to follow inside and touch like an angel charged with the tender care of his sins. But she was his sin. She was untouchable, and yet her every curve and motion was now burned into his mind.
He needed to spin on his heels and run to the lake, dive into the cold water and cool his raging body down, but instead he picked up the other water bottle and emptied it over his head just like he had with the first. The water cooled him for a moment, but in the sun it quickly steamed off his smooth, young skin.
He scanned the windows of the house, trying to bring the hazy visions in his mind into focus. He pushed his gym shorts off, letting his rigid cock snap free. The skin around his shaft and balls was shaved as smooth as the rest of his body. He had the kind of tan line that was beginning to darken, revealing how he sunbathed naked whenever she ran out on errands.
He stepped off the matt and knelt down in the grass, facing the side of the house. His knees were spread wide, the weight of his balls dangling between muscular thighs while his long, thick shaft stood up against his abs. He leaned his weight backward onto the palm of his left hand while the right curled into a fist around his cock.
Sweat and sunlight felt like a pelt against his skin. His hand started moving up and down the fat girth of his shaft, slicking his heavily oozing precum over his flesh as his fingers slipped and slid over the ridge of his cock head.
“Today,” he grunted at his mother’s strutting afterimage, “you make me want to fuck. Just fuck. You’re like a fucking emergency my cock needs to be in the middle of.”
His firm fist started to corkscrew as he pumped his steaming shaft. Whether she was or not, he imagined her watching. He wanted her to see everything. His breath deepened and his fist worked harder and faster. Lube oozed out of his knob like a piece of split fruit.
She had to be watching. Had to. Why else would she have started the fire only to run away and not see the flames?
David’s hips arched upward into the gathering force and speed of his stroking hand. His spine curled and his muscles tensed. A feeling of scandal and freedom flushed through his body as he winced and felt her watching from the safety of her shady house.
She had to be pulling her expansive breasts free of the tiny triangles that barely held them. She had to be clawing at the heavy spheres of caramel flesh, pulling and twisting her fat nipples. She had to be yanking that worthless fucking thong aside to shove her fingers up inside her shuddering, wet sheath.
She had to.
“Mmmmmotherfucker!” he growled. Huffing grunts took over his voice while his head fell back and his fist pounded the throbbing length of his starving cock shaft. He felt like he was spinning in backward circles while the feel and taste of her hot flesh invaded his senses. “You’re mine now,” he grunted to himself. “You’ll never belong to him again.”
He could fucking feel her. Taste and smell her.
Electric pulses started to jolt the length of his spuming cock. His balls drew up tightly into his retracting sac. His fist felt like a slam of spastic sensation – pounding – mauling the unyielding stone of his cock until he growled and arched his body into a hard, shuddering curl while cum burst through his stalk in a shower of spattering cum.
David pumped his gushing cock until all the tension in his body suddenly gave way to a feeling of descending calm. Thick drabs of spunk speckled his hand and lower abs. When he relaxed into a more comfortable sitting position, he could see gobs of his cum in the grass.
His cock slowly relaxed. He still sat facing the house, but he couldn’t bring himself to look toward the windows now. He didn’t know how he could ever look her in the eye the way he had before. But then, maybe she was hiding in the house now because she felt shy about the way she’d strutted around in front of him. Maybe she wouldn’t know how to cope with the way he’d look at her with abject longing. Would they even know how to talk to each other now?
He finally got to his feet and picked up his damp shorts, carrying them toward the lake balled up in his cum soaked fist. A brisk swim in the cool water would help clear his mind. Maybe it wouldn’t be long before they found a way to act like nothing ever happened.
Miranda’s nerves were singing so hard she jumped when the screen door slapped shut behind her. Her pulse hammered with exhilaration. Her bikini felt smaller now than when she first tried it on and debated whether to go out and let David see her in it. The stretch of the bright cords against the ripe opulence of her body dug in her flesh like restraints. Every step she’d taken in her garden under the watchful gaze of her beautifully made son made the tiny garment feel smaller and tighter.
It was noticeably cooler inside the remote, air-conditioned home she’d come to think of as prison. At least if she were going to live in exile imposed by her despicable husband, sharing it with her loving son turned everything around. But today, as sultry patches of moisture started to evaporate off her caramel rose skin, she felt the pulse of blood pounding through the heavy grace of her thick extremities – shoulders proud and broad, round arms full of strength and graceful tenderness, voluptuous ass and thighs that could grind heroes into puddles of weak surrender –Miranda felt more alive than she could remember.
She crossed to the refrigerator and opened the door, letting the blast of even cooler air ease the voracious tingling over the surface of her skin. Propping the door open with her right hand, she let the left take a slow journey down the damp luxury of her body’s extravagant curves. She pulled her left breast free of the slender strip covering her nipple and squeezed herself. Hard. Her nipples had been swollen ever since she knelt in the grass and felt her son’s eyes bee-lining for her audaciously exposed ass.
She wanted to blame her actions on the raging needs of her body. Needs that would never leave her in peace. But she knew the love in her heart and mind only made it worse. He was hers, after all, wasn’t he? Could either of them ever love anyone in quite the same way?
Out in the yard, Miranda’s pussy had started to throb and moisten much faster than she expected. Not wanting her son to see that much, she’d needed to get back inside. He started getting so hard he couldn’t hide it anymore. She’d wanted to look at his spectacular young body without fear or hesitation, but feeling herself flush and simmer so hard made her mind spin. Rational thought was beyond reach while her hand continued moving down until she was cupping her sensitive mound through the tapered front of her thong. Her hand was wider than the strip of fabric.
As her fingers explored the heated flesh of her inner thighs, she felt the slick of her own honey smearing her skin. She pushed aside the scant strip of fabric and let her fingers play over the shape of her pussy, stroking and teasing her lips until the heated flow of her body’s nectar seemed to be everywhere.
Miranda gripped the upper edge of the open refrigerator door, relishing the play of heat and cool over the surface of her skin. The sensation was delicious, but there was no way it could compare to the feeling of her own son’s mouth and hands exploring her with the need she’d seen in his face and all over his glorious body. The intense flush of her pussy saturated her grinding fingers while her head leaned back and her eyes closed. Images of David flashed through her mind – his ripped, rigid body, glistening with moisture in the sun – the ripe, enormous bulge of his growing cock as it strained against his shorts.
She’d heard the strain of his grunting breath while his bulging arms glistened and pumped hard and fast against the heft of his barbells. She wondered if the strain of lifting weights while his cock grew hard and ravenous had made him dizzy. A soft, low growl curled through her lips like a wisp of smoke. Her fingers, clustered and slightly curled, mashed increasingly desperate circles against the pliant lips of her pussy. Every unforgiving degree of the day’s humid punishment felt like it was gathering in that soft pocket between her thighs.
“Ffffffuck,” she hissed as one of her fingers ground upward into the dripping void between the billowing lips of her slit.
As her finger stirred the broiling nectar deep inside the darkness of her sheath, she ripped away the strip of fabric over her left breast and clutched at herself, listening again to the huffing grunts of breath she’d heard from her son just moments ago. The waves of cool out of the open refrigerator only highlighted the feeling of heat rising off the tight knots of her mahogany nipples.
A second finger slipped in beside the first. There was a swift, rabid pumping – a sudden flurry of desperately unrestrained finger-fucking as she yowled softly and ripped at the flesh of her heaving tit with her left hand.
Just as suddenly, she let go of herself and opened her eyes. She focused on the coolness lightly washing over her skin as she struggled against the spinning sensation in her head.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she brought the fingers of her right hand to her lips and tasted her own tang. Her eyes closed again. She was luxurious and sweet, and as she sucked her own flavor off her fingers, she brought the sight of his straining cock back to her mind. It should have been his precum on her lips now – the same texture, but the taste of a rippling young man caught in the grip of his own mother-lust.
She was wasting away in a beautiful nowhere, and Adonis had come down to remind her what she was made of after all the others had failed.
Miranda reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a plastic bottle of water. She twisted the cap and drank, feeling the cool liquid flow into her body. She had the sensation of being cool inside and cool on the surface, but everything in between was burning up like a wild brushfire.
She angled the bottle over the proud jut of her exposed breasts and let water trickle over the swells. Her left hand moved over the heavy flesh, relishing the feel of her smooth, wet skin. She was about to do it again, but something made her stop. She put the water bottle back inside the refrigerator, and with a smile curling her full lips, she picked up a small carton of milk.
When she opened the carton and let the milk drip over the prodigious contours of her body, a sensation of luxury came over her. There was something luscious and obscene about the cool rivulets of white running over her dark skin. Her free hand roamed across her shape as she let the milk drip over her in a steady flow. Her thumb moved over her swollen nipples, her hand pausing to cup and squeeze each breast as the milk flowed like a river of David’s cum.
Miranda shoved her left hand down inside her thong, cupping her smooth pussy, but leaving a gap to let the running milk pool between her palm and mound. There was something different in the texture and scent of the milk. As it dribbled and flowed around the finger grinding her clit, she uttered another yowl, not quite as softly as before.
The carton finally emptied, milk running down over her pussy and thighs onto the kitchen floor. Fuck the mess. Fuck the world. She kicked off her sandals to feel the mess of it against her bare feet as she flung the empty carton on the floor.
If her husband had been there, he wouldn’t have leapt to his feet to consume her in a spontaneous combustion of lust and desire. She could see him in her mind, sitting incredulous at the table, gaping in disbelief. He would say something so utterly clueless as to not be worth saying. Something that would only make her feel like a servant as he ordered her to wipe up the spill and come to her senses.
Miranda slammed the refrigerator shut, feeling continuous waves of need course through her body as she thought of her son. Now she knew there were certain women in this world who could only truly belong to a man so special that they had to bring them to life themselves. And she was one.
She untied the useless top of her bikini and dropped it into the spilled milk on the floor. She left it lying beside the empty carton and went to the kitchen window to see if he was still outside. Her bare feet were wet with milk.
“Oh ... oh ... fffffuck,” she said aloud, half in a moan as she looked out to see David, still there, the rigid spine of his excited cock even bigger, the hard shape even more pronounced against the tight stretch of his shorts than before.
“Que pollo,” she purred, gnawing her supple bottom lip as she watched his hand drift over his imposing bulge.
When he turned to face the house head on and shoved his shorts down to the grass, letting the naked shaft of his magnificent cock spring free, Miranda gasped in surprise.
She grasped the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white, her pussy broiling with waves of fluid heat as she watched David kneel in the grass. He was facing her house in a way that made her feel he was openly facing her - taunting her – egging her on with his outrageous excitement. His knees were spread wide, letting his fully laden ball sac nestle between his powerful thighs. Then he leaned backward onto his left hand while the right curled into a firm grip around his prominent shaft.
He was stout and long, with a richly flared head, as if the size and shape of his proud cock had somehow been made to match his ripped body. He gave the impression full blown hardness was his natural state. The flashing shimmer of sunlight along his stalk, along with the slick, corkscrew glide of his tight hand, betrayed the steady ooze of precum Miranda had only imagined. But it was so clear and obvious now, even from the window above her kitchen sink.
Her tongue rolled a moist circle around her parted lips while her heart slammed and a low, groaning sigh sifted out. She gripped each of her aching nipples, twisting them hard. Her pussy flushed and seeped until the gusset of her thong felt tacky and pasted to the squeezed shape of her maw.
“Such a nowty boy,” she crooned in the rich music of her Caribbean-Spanish accent. “Nasty boy! Mami’s big, horny man, flaunting that big, delicious cock.”
Her fingers clamped harder on her pulsing nipples as she pulled and twisted them. David’s lips were drawn back into a desperate grimace, but as his mother watched them draw tight, she couldn’t stop feeling them in her mind, ravenously sucking the rigid tips of her heavy breasts, traveling across her skin in moist, scuttling nips as he sought to devour her body.
His fist was moving faster, pumping harder along the jutting length of his rock-hard stalk. His hips were making a little see-saw rocking motion as he fucked back at his pummeling hand.
Her right hand released the nipple in its unforgiving grip and slid to her pussy. Pushing her thong aside, she widened her stance, giving her fingers room to explore her slick, fluttering petals. When her wet tongue pushed outward to trace the circle of her mouth once more, she imagined the sensation of David gripping his shank as he rubbed his precum over her lips. She imagined him painting them slick and clear with the bursting tip of his cock while her tongue flashed out like a serpent to curl around his frothing dome.
“Ayyyy, fuck,” she growled. Feline. Feral. Driven by the power of her own unquenchable life-force. Taking flight on the rising waves of heat emanating through her pores.
Searching fingers ground along her lips, pushing forcefully into her sheath – pumping, stirring – creamy fuck-scrape of her fingers into her core. Her left hand began to feel spastic as she slapped her own quaking breast before she could think about what she was doing.