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Mom's Horny New Year's Eve

Emma bates stumbled into her family living room, grabbing onto whatever she could to maintain her balance. She had fallen asleep in another room at the near the end of a New Year's Eve party she and her husband had thrown that night. She passed her husband on her way to the family room and he was in even worse shape than she was.

Emma saw her son sitting on the couch and she moved in his direction. But she couldn't quite make it without falling on her face next to where he was sitting.

She always got ready at home before leaving for her workouts, generally dressing in the typical outfit of a sports top and tight spandex pants, which never failed to give me a hard-on. I could clearly see her nipples as the top mashed her tits against her chest and the way her ass rolled in her tight pants was a sight to behold.

"Hi Bret!". "Is everybody gone?"

"Hi Mom," Bret replied. "Yeah, the Mitchells left about 20 minutes ago. Where were you, anyway?"

"Oh ... I just took a little nap, I think."

"Where's Dad?"

"He's totally passed out in the other room! He was like, totally drunk!"

"He was totally drunk, Mom? And what are you?"

"I'm fine, Bret! I'm talking to you, aren't I?" Bret chuckled to himself and rolled his eyes. "Did you have fun, Bret? Wasn't it a good party?"

"Yeah ... yeah, Mom. It was a great party."

Suddenly Emma seemed to realize that music was coming from the stereo.

"Hey! I love this song! This is a great song! Do you remember this, Bret?"

"I guess... ," Bret began.

"Yeah!" Emma exclaimed without giving her son a chance to answer her question pulled herself to her feet.

"Oh, do you remember this song Bret? Oh wow! Your dad and I used to dance to this song!"

Emma got herself as steady as she could, then put her arms in the air, doing her best to dance to the music.

"Bret! Dance with me!"

"Mom, come on. Sit down. You're gonna hurt yourself."

"AAaaawwwww, come on, Bret! Dance with your mother!"

Bret shook his head and laughed, but he got up and moved toward his mother. He figured it was ​probably a good idea, mostly to keep her from falling down. He put his hands on her waist and looked into her face.

Emma brought her arms down and put them around her son's neck. She pulled him close and began slow dancing with him.

Bret had enjoyed a few drinks during the parth, but nothing that made him even near drunk. He had complete control of his senses. He suddenly noticed his mother's perfume. He put his face into her neck to take in the fragrance.

"Mom," he said softly, "you smell great."

"You like it?" Emma asked. "You got it for me ... for Christmas."

Emma pulled back and gave Bret a bleary-eyed smile.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm still a little buzzed, I think. Dance with me, Bret."

After a minute of his smelling his mother's perfume, feeling her big, soft breasts against his chest, and generally enjoying the way she was holding on to him for support, Bret had an urge that he knew was wrong, but which he couldn't help chancing.

"You feel good, Mom. You smell good, and you feel really good."

Emma didn't respond. She just kept her head against Bret's shoulder. He then made his first move. He slid his hands from Emma's waist to her back. He returned the embrace she was giving him. Feeling slightly afraid of how she might react, Bret then slid his hands down to his mother's behind. The couple turned in slow circles for another minute before Emma noticed where her son's hands were placed.

"Bret, what are you doing?"

"Nothing Mom. I'm dancing with you, like you wanted."

"Fine, but watch your hands!"

She put her hand on one of her son's hands and brought it up to her waist.

"OK, sorry Mom."

She didn't touch his other hand, which was still planted on her butt. Bret noticed that his mother didn't sound angry. He wasn't sure how to categorize her tone, but he could tell it wasn't especially negative. After a short while, he slid the hand his mother had moved, back to her bottom. This time he squeezed her with both hands.

"Joooeeeeeey," she said in a sing-song fashion, "what are you doing with your hands, young man?" He just shrugged and kept squeezing. "Yes, Bret, that is Mom's ass your ​touching!"

"I'm sorry Mom. I just can't help it."

"Can't help it? I'm your mother."

"Yeah Mom, I know."

Emma's mildly annoyed, but still un-discouraging tone piqued Bret's interest even more. He left one hand in place on Mom's ass, as he slid his other up her body near her breast. He pulled back to gauge how she was feeling by the look in her eyes. She looked back at him dreamily, seeming to be unconcerned about the fact that her son's hand was still on her butt. When he softly grasped her big breast, it did get her attention, but he still didn't sense anything like anger.

"Hey, Mister!" she said without much protest. "Watch your hands, Young Man."

"OK Mom, I will."

Bret was pleased that his mother didn't seem to be mad at all. She certainly wasn't batting his hand away or pulling away from him. In fact, despite telling him to watch his hands, she didn't remove the one that was fondling her boob. He took another step, as he put his face back on her neck and planted a few kisses.

Rather than telling him to stop, Emma let out a very slight grunt of pleasure.

"You feel great, Mom," Bret repeated in a whisper.

"Bret," Emma said matter-of-factly, "we're just supposed to be dancing. What are you..." She was interrupted by Bret pulling back again, then gently kissing her mouth. "Hey!"

Emma still wasn't protesting. In fact, this time she chuckled at her son's gesture.

"What, Mom?" Bret said with a smile. "Can't I kiss my mom?"

Emma paused to consider his question before speaking.

"Uh ... well of course you can! But that wasn't a kiss you should be giving your mother, Mister! Especially while you're hand is on Mommy's ass, and your other hand is ... why is your hand on my boob, anyway?"

"Because it feels so good, Mom."

Bret then realized that his penis was rising to attention. Part of him wanted to turn his hips and not let her know, and part of him wanted to press it into her. But he figured that was too much too soon, so he just pulled his hips back a bit.

But he did give his mother another kiss. She did nothing to move out of the way. In fact, it was a longer kiss with more contact. And she kissed him back.

"Bret," she said when their lips finally parted. "We shouldn't do that, should we? I mean, I don't think we should..."

He kissed her again, which took her focus off of her brief complaint. Bret pulled himself back ​slightly and turned his mother around so she was facing away from him. She assumed their dance was continuing and she raised her arms up in the air and gyrated her hips.

Bret began nudging Emma toward the door that led to the kitchen, thinking it was an extra room away from his father, whom he didn't think would wake up. But figured that if he did, he would have a little better chance of hearing him coming if they were a little further removed from the spot where he was passed out.

"Let's go in the kitchen, Mom," Bret said into his mother's ear from behind her.

"Why are you taking me in the kitchen?" Emma asked.

"I just think it's a better place for us to dance," Bret replied as he moved her toward the doorway.

She didn't question his logic about being able to dance better in the kitchen. As they got to the door, Bret made a bold move. He lifted the back of his mother's short, blue skirt and grabbed her ass cheeks. He was almost sure she would turn and slap him at this point. But instead of getting angry, she threw her arms up in the air and began dancing again.

Mom kissed me hard, her body shivering with excitement as her wet, soapy body pressed against mine; her heavy, meaty breasts pillowing out against my chest, her thick nipples making me shiver as they scraped against my flesh. Mom's legs wrapped around me, digging into the small of my back as she thrust herself against me, taking me deep within her.

My hands cupping her ass cheeks to hold her against me as I shoved my cock into my mother's hungry pussy.

For what seemed hours we both crept towards the edge of climax. Mom and I stared at each other, our mouths slightly open in awe or disbelief that we were again consummating our desires for each other.

Each gentle, slow agonizing thrust into Mom made us groan and sigh. We seemed to reach climax together, Mom crying gently as she pressed her face against my chest, her arms holding me so tight, her nails digging slowly into my back as our mutual pleasure mounted and mounted until finally, my cock buried deep in Mom's pussy,

I cried out, "I love you, Mom!" and let myself go, ejaculating my seed into her steamy cunt.

Mom screamed, her voice muffled against my chest and I felt her subtly thrust a little more, taking me a fraction deeper into her pussy before her vaginal muscles clamped down tightly and enhance my pleasure by constantly milking me of my semen.

I held on tight to Mom as she convulsed in orgasmic delight.