NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

My name is Ryker, and yes, I’m named after a television character. I was 18. I was out of my mind. I must say it. My mom and I are lovers. There. You can let that hang in the air. You can be disgusted, and I can be disgusted, and I was sickened, only I wasn’t, and that’s okay. This is a confession.

This is where it gets weird. No, wait, it already was, so this is where it gets weirder.

I’ll go back to the beginning, to when it happened, when I was still out of my mind and not yet so much out of my mind, I’d do anything I wanted. Because I love my mother in all the wrong ways. Honestly, she was the one I masturbated to, her big watermelon breasts and fat long nipples too bold and proud to be hidden by a bra. Those nips were attractions and marked her clothing like a road sign, scenic view, pull off here.

At thirty 34, she still rocks a bikini like nobody’s business. I have a ton of pictures of her out back at our swimming pool, her big, only slightly saggy tits and bullet-point nipples barely covered. Well, that’s on my computer, and I’ve used them well.

My father had a job that took him away most of the year. Salesman of the year, twenty years in a row. He was a 47-year-old absentee husband and father who’d knocked my mother up when she was still in high school. She went on the road with him right after they were married and before I came along. At this point, she’s been on an 18-year sentence of lonely nights and worries about how dear old Dad is fucking. Shannon, my mother, didn’t finish high school because of me.

Because let me tell you, Dad’s a real fucking hound dog.

Sometimes, we didn’t see him for weeks. The numbers went something like this: more than 220 days gone, less than 145 days home, out of the house five days a week from 7:00 to 5:30 when he is home. Fuck you very much, Pops!

This is not a math problem.

He was home but not home, and that left Mom and me. She wasn’t 18 when she had me. You can do the math again and get to 34, or you cannot. It’s irrelevant, but maybe it’s not. She’s the one I went to with problems. Friends said she was young, cool, like an older sister.

We spent a lot of time together when Dad traveled. Watched shows. Cooked. Chilled out. We hung out that way, like buddies. It got so fucked. I’ll go back to when it happened. That’s how this works. It started a few months ago. It began on the couch and commenced with a movie on a streaming service. Perhaps it was too steamy for a mom and son to watch.

Another long trip for Dad, my mom’s head on my shoulder, and it felt normal. You won’t believe this part, but it’s true. She put her hand on my leg. At first, just on my leg. Then it moved, and it was on my dick. Then her mouth was on my mouth.

What the fuck all, dreams are made of this. I froze.

Honest to God, I couldn’t figure out what to do. What would you do? Probably something better. Part of me wanted to leave. Another part of me, the part of me that hated myself later, wanted this more than anything.

Therefore, I didn’t move, and she didn’t stop. We’d gotten close. Close like most moms and sons don’t. That should have been a sign. Mommy used to come to my room at night, knock on the door, sit on the edge of the bed. Sometimes she’d rub my back while I complained about finals or breakups.

Or I’d come to her room when I couldn’t sleep. We’d sit up and talk. She’d always said I was the most important thing in the world. She said I meant everything to her, and I believed her, and I wanted to believe her, and I shouldn’t have believed her. That’s what she said when she kissed me. You mean everything to me. She slipped a hand down my chest, pulled my shirt over my head. I stayed frozen. Not for long.

Here’s the icky part, the really sick part. I let it happen because I wanted to.

The TV flickered with a grayish blue, I felt more alive than ever. Emotions battled inside me, and Mother’s hand didn’t move from my dick, not until I came. I should have pushed her away. I should have stopped her. I did the opposite. I’m the worst son ever. Shannon’s the best mother of all, right?

I assumed this was a one-time thing. The thing on the couch. But she gave me a hand job that night, and I’m not ashamed to say this, and then I’m totally ashamed to say this, and it was fucking wonderful.

Her hand on me through my jeans. My dick hard and straining, and her hot breath in my ear. A boy’s dream, except it was a fully grown man’s dream. Ass’s planted firmly to the couch, she unzipped me. She liked what she saw.

“Nice, you’re going commando,” she said, and she unzipped the fly. Like I said. Sick. Here’s what else she did. Here’s how bad it got. She sucked on my neck. My lips. Her tongue and mine danced a lusty tango. When she leaned over and let her breasts fall into my chest, enormous and firm my mind and emotions raced adrenaline and lust through me unrestrained. Pressed them into me until I’m crazy.

Reaching for hand lotion and with a few thrusts on plunger, she pumped thick glob lotion into her palm. After that, Mom fondled my cock with her hand she lathered up, and her hair fell across my chest while we kissed. She didn’t say stop. She didn’t let up. She stroked me like I’d never been stroked.

Fuck, I forgot how to talk. Imagine your mother jerking your Gerkin.

This is all my fucking father’s fault. Dad left us for days, weeks. Months. We took trips when he took trips. We saw more of the world than he did. When I got my license, Mom liked me to drive. She said it made me look older. She didn’t act like my mom, not the way other moms do.

Summer and I’m not working for the first summer of my life. No rules. No chores. No curfew. We had fun, she and I, and when we got home from wherever, the mall, the movies, dinner out, it was just the two of us in the house.

Which always meant takeout. That meant streaming a movie, often very sexy ones. It meant nothing I had to confess until this happened. She said she couldn’t stand it when I had girlfriends, and now I know why. I’m not saying it’s right, or that it was right, or that we didn’t cross the hugest line. We did. I need you to understand how and why.

It took me forever to come. She said she liked it that way. She’d jerked off Dad before. I hadn’t seen that. It’s not the kind of thing I wanted to watch my mom do to my dad. This sperm donner was never around. Missed all my sports achievements. I’m getting a hand job form this stranger’s wife. Oh, good lord is it great. And Mother is no stranger to me, she’s Mom, Mommy, my best friend.

She kept it slow at first. After short time, a little faster. Fast enough to drive me nuts.

“You’re a stud, Son,” she said. This, and it made me smile and cry, “My handsome boy.” She quickened her pace. She played with my hair while she jerked me.

“You’re a stud. A big, bad stud.” Mommy whispered into my ear, “Way the fuck bigger than Dad.”

She wouldn’t let go, and I didn’t want her to. I never wanted her to. I let it happen, and that’s why I can’t keep this inside. We kissed more than I’d ever kissed anyone. Touched more. She was so smooth and so warm and so ... Mom. It got insane. It got intense. I wasn’t used to it. My girlfriend, June, did it once. I loved it, but Mom’s was better. Longer. She guided my hands to her blouse, and I opened it. You should be done reading now.

But if you’re not, if you’re still there, if you don’t think I’m the worst son ever, listen.

I squeezed her breasts and watched them pop out of her bra, and I’d gone too far, and I’d gone right about far enough. That’s where the confession gets its power.

Sucked on her nipples. She loved it, loved it when I touched her, loved it when I let her touch me, loved it when I lasted. At that point, Mom’s jerking me so hard, so faxt, I’m on the edge.

“Mommy, I’m gonna cum.”

That was when her head went to my lap. Moist, lipstick covered lips wrapped around the mushroom head, and she jacked so fast, her little finger hitting my balls. And I shot my load, thick streams gushed from me, filled her mouth, and ran down her throat.

The air hung heavy with the scent of sin as she kept her rhythm. One of her fat boobs poked her torpedo nipple into my balls, the covered my belly. I kept shooting forever. Thinking it would never end, she kept it going till I had nothing left to give.

Standing up, Shannon licked her hand, and I’m pretty sure it was my spunk on her palm, and the TV was still on

“Ryker, darling, turn off the TV and come to bed.”

“Your bed?”