Husband Gets Sons Sloppy Seconds

Please be aware that this story explores a taboo relationship and may be disturbing to some readers. Just a quick story this time, something quick and hot. There will be another part depending on how well this goes.

How did I get here? Trapped in this twisted reality where the lines of wife and mother have blurred into something sick and depraved. I look in the mirror and see a woman I don't recognize, a reflection stained with guilt and shame, yet burning with a desperate, secret desire. They both look at me with such hunger, my son and my husband, and in their eyes, I'm not a mother or a wife, but some kind of dirty whore. And the worst part? A part of me, a dark, hidden part, revels in it. Each stolen touch, each whispered word, chips away at my soul, leaving me hollow and broken. I hate them, I hate myself, but God help me, I can't seem to stop.

The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that hummed in your ears late at night. Just the soft ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs and the whisper of the wind outside. Perfectly still. Until the bed dipped behind me. Didn't even need to open my eyes to know who it was. Gary. My 18 year old Gary.

A lazy hand snaked around my waist, warm and familiar even before it started to move. Fingers ghosted over the soft cotton of my nightie, then bolder now, cupping my breast. Through the thin fabric, his touch was electric, a spark right against my skin. God, even in sleep, I knew that touch. Craved it, didn't I?

"Sweetie," I sighed, my voice thick with sleep and something else... reluctance? Maybe. "Go back to bed." Did I even mean it? Could he hear the waver in my voice? "Honey, we talked about this, remember? Last time... last time was supposed to be... last time."

He nuzzled into the back of my neck, his breath warm and damp against my skin, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with being cold. "Come on, Mom," I need a release after the day I have had at work," he murmured, his voice low and husky, a sound that vibrated right through me. "Don't you miss this?" Miss this? Was he kidding? Did he have any idea the way my body remembered every single touch, every stolen moment?

His other hand slipped lower, tracing the curve of my hip, dipping lower still, beneath the hem of my nightie. My fingers found the elastic edge of my knickers, and a thrill, sharp and undeniable, shot through me. He knew exactly where to touch, didn't he? Always did. His fingers weren't still now, they were teasing, rubbing gently against the thin lace there, right where I was already starting to feel... damp.

"Dad'll be home soon, baby," I breathed out, a half-hearted protest. Did I want him to stop? Did I really? The way my heart was pounding, the way my breath hitched in my chest... all signs pointed to no. But I had to say something, didn't I? Maintain some semblance of... control?

He just chuckled softly, a low rumble against my back. "He's not due back for an hour, Mom. Plenty of time for a quickie. Just... just one more time? Please? I really need it." Need it? Like I didn't know what it was. Like I didn't feel the same desperate tug in my own belly, the same building ache between my legs.

His lips followed the line of my neck, hot kisses pressing against my skin, sending little jolts of pleasure all the way down to my toes. He smelled like... Gary. Warm, musky, a scent that was uniquely him, and uniquely intoxicating to me. He spooned closer, his body moulding against mine, the hard ridge of his cock pressing into my backside through our nightclothes. Was he even wearing anything under those pyjamas? Probably not. He knew exactly what he was doing.

My mind flickered back to the last time. Sunlight streamed through the window, turning the dust motes dancing in the air to gold. His hands on my thighs, lifting my nightie, the way his eyes had burned into mine, hungry and possessive. The slide of him inside me, hot and thick and right. God, how right it had felt. Too right, maybe. That forbidden thrill... it was addictive, wasn't it?

He was still kissing my neck, feather-light now, teasing, drawing out the anticipation. His fingers were moving against my knickers again, pressing harder this time, and I felt a jolt of liquid heat bloom between my legs. Was I really going to do this again? Right here, right now? Knowing the risk, the wrongness of it all?

"Mom..." he whispered again, his voice thick with want, his breath puffing hot against my ear. "Please?"

And just like that, something inside me snapped. Was it resistance? Or resolve? Hard to tell. But a sigh escaped my lips, not of protest this time, but of... surrender. Slowly, hesitantly, my fingers found the elastic waistband of my knickers beneath my nightie. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet of the room. This was wrong. So wrong. But... God, it felt so right too.

With a shaky breath, I started to slide them down, inch by agonizing inch. The lace snagged for a moment, then slipped free. Cool air kissed my suddenly bare skin, and a shiver ran through me again, different this time. Excitement? Anticipation? A delicious mix of fear and exhilaration? Maybe all of it.

Gary didn't say a word, just shifted slightly closer, his body pressed even tighter against mine. His hand moved lower, cupping my ass cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle right at the crease. The heat between my legs intensified, a throbbing, insistent ache. He was right there, behind me, spooning, intimate as could be, and I was naked underneath my nightie for him. For him.

My knickers pooled around my thighs, not willing to take them off just enough for him to get inside me, feeling exposed and utterly, terrifyingly, turned on. What was I doing? Did it even matter anymore? The only thing that mattered at that moment was the heat of his body pressed against mine, the feel of his hand on my skin, and the frantic, undeniable need that was building inside me, demanding to be satisfied.

He shifted again, just slightly, and I felt the hard tip of his cock press right against my slick, wet opening, he shifted forward and slid inside of me. I preferred to be spooned, felt so good. "I mean it, soon as you done, get back to bed."

Gary's breath hitched as he slid into you, his thick cock stretching your tight pussy open. He groaned softly, burying his face in your neck as he started to move, his hips rolling slowly, deeply. "Fuck, Mom," he murmured, his voice ragged with pleasure. "You feel so good. Oh yeah, Mom."

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he picked up the pace, thrusting harder, faster. The bed creaked softly beneath you, a rhythmic squeak that matched the wet slap of skin against skin. You could feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein, as he pumped in and out of your dripping cunt.

"Gary," you gasped, your fingers clutching at the sheets. "Oh God, Gary..." my voice trailed off into a moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

His hips slammed into mine, the force of his thrusts shaking the bed. I gasped, my fingers digging into the sheets, as he pounded into me relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by our ragged breaths and muffled moans.

"Fuck, Mom," he growled in my ear, his voice thick with lust. "Your pussy feels so good. So tight and wet."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of shame and arousal. I was letting my own son fuck me, in my own bed, while my husband was at work and due home soon. It was so wrong, but it felt so right. I couldn't deny the pleasure that was building inside me, the heat that was spreading through my veins with every thrust of his hips.

"Yes, Gary," I moaned, my voice barely audible over the sound of our bodies colliding. "Harder. Fuck me harder."

Gary's grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh as he obliged my request. His thrusts became more forceful, more urgent, each one driving his thick cock deeper into my aching pussy. The bed shook violently beneath us, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful snap of his hips. "Like that, Mom?" he grunted, his breath hot against my neck. "You like it when I fuck you hard?"

"Yes," I gasped, my voice strained."God, yes. Don't stop."

His hand slid around to my front, fingers finding my clit and rubbing it in tight circles. The added stimulation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me, and I felt my orgasm building rapidly. My muscles tightened, my breath coming in short, sharp pants as I hurtled towards the edge.

"That's it, Mom," Gary encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Cum for me. Cum around my cock."

Gary's fingers on my clit, combined with his relentless thrusts, pushed me over the edge. My orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave, my pussy clamping down around his cock as I cried out in ecstasy.

"Gary! Oh fuck, Gary!" He groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he felt my pussy spasming around him."Shit, Mom, I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice strained."I'm gonna fill you up."

"Yes! Oh god, yes," I choked out, my voice rough like sandpaper scraping skin. "Do it, baby. Spill it all inside me."

Gary didn't need to be told twice. He thrust, hard and suddenly, and I gasped as he went bone-deep. A guttural sound ripped from his chest, all raw pleasure. I felt his cock throbbing, a thick pulse against my insides. Hot, thick... his come was flooding me. It went on and on, each spasm sending shivers down my spine, his hips bucking against mine, frantic, desperate. God, it felt good, too good, even as the guilt nipped at my heels.

BANG.  The front door slammed shut downstairs. Cold panic shot through me. "Shit! Quick! Pull out, Gary! Now!" I hissed, my voice barely a breath, fear tightening my throat.

He scrambled back like he'd been burned, his dick sliding out with a wet,  schlepp sound that echoed the sickening twist in my gut. Shame, hot and sharp, flooded me. I yanked my knickers up, fumbling, fingers clumsy with panic.

Gary was off the bed in a flash, clothes rustling in the sudden silence. Downstairs, footsteps, heavy and familiar.  Mark.  Keys jingled, tossed onto the hall table -- a sound that usually meant comfort, now a death knell. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat. Breath hitched in my chest, shallow, useless gasps. Could he hear it? Could he feel it, the guilt radiating off me in waves?

"Mom, I..." Gary started, his voice a shaky whisper, eyes wide with the same fear I felt. I cut him off with a sharp, silencing look.

"Not. Another. Word," I breathed, pulling my nightgown down, and tugging it into place like I could erase the last ten minutes. "Just go. Get out of here. Before he comes up."

He vanished, a shadow slipping out the door. I lay back, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving.  Mark.  My husband. Gary's dad. Christ, what had I done?

Then, the creak of the bedroom door. Mark. He stepped in, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, the scent of his aftershave, familiar and... wrong now. He looked tired, yeah, work always drained him. But his face lit up when he saw me, a genuine smile that twisted my insides even more.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, warm, loving. "I'm home."

He crossed the room, leaned down, and kissed me softly. His lips on mine, so normal, so him. I kissed him back, a hollow, empty press of lips. Guilt gnawed, sharp teeth tearing at my insides. Gary's hands, his mouth,  him inside me... just minutes ago. Could Mark smell it on me? See it in my eyes? Pretend, just pretend.

"Hey, Mark," I murmured against his mouth, forcing warmth into my voice. "Long day?"

"Killer," he sighed, straightening up, and starting to unbutton his shirt. "But good to be home. How about you? Good day?"

I nodded, a fake smile plastered on my face. "Yeah, fine. You know, same old." Same old lying, cheating bullshit, you mean?

He stripped down to his boxers, slid into bed, and turned to me, pulling me close. "Missed you, honey."

His hands started roaming, gentle, familiar paths over my skin. He kissed me deeper this time, tongue sliding in, tasting... what? Me? Gary? I responded, lips moving, but my mind was a scream of guilt. Shame burned like acid. Mark's hand cupped my breast, and I bit back a moan. Not pleasure. Pure, raw panic.

He couldn't know. Couldn't know someone else had touched me like this, been inside me, filled me up, just moments ago. So I forced myself to relax, to soften into his touch, to play the role I always played. He broke the kiss, lips trailing down my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

"I want you," he murmured, husky and low as his hand gripped the waistband of my knickers and slowly started to drag them down my legs. "Been thinking about getting inside you all day."

Oh, you are, are you? You have no freakin' idea.  He was about to get a chockful of sloppy seconds, wasn't he? Gary's leftovers. Jesus Christ.

Mark's dick nudged against me, already hard, eager. My heart slammed harder in my chest. I bit my lip, trying to breathe, trying to brace myself. Gary's come was still there, inside, warm, sticky, a disgusting, secret tide. Mark was going to stir it all up. A mess. A horrifying, shameful mess. But what choice did I have?

I just lay there, eyes squeezed shut, as he pushed inside. A low groan escaped his lips, a sound of pure male satisfaction. Then... the slide. His cock slid in, through...  it. Through Gary's slickness. It felt... strange, almost. A strangled sound escaped me.

"Fuck," Mark grunted, his hips starting to move. "You're so wet, honey. Really sloppy. Fuckin' sloppy good."

Sloppy? Yeah, sloppy with his son's man juice. Didn't he know? Could he feel it? Smell it? See the lie in my eyes? I just nodded, wrapped my legs around him, tighter, urging him deeper, anything to hurry this up, to get it over with.

He started to thrust, harder now, faster. And with every push, that sound.  Squelch-squelch. His cock dragging through the mess, Gary's come squishing around him, obscene, disgusting. The sound filled the room, amplified by the sudden quiet of my shame.

But Mark... he didn't seem to notice. Lost in his own world, his own pleasure. He fucked me harder, faster, grunting, face flushed, and something twisted inside me. Pleasure, yeah, a flicker of it, mixed with the crushing guilt, the shame, creating some sick, heady brew.

His face tightened. Already? Jesus Christ, seriously? He's been inside me, what, five minutes? Five measly minutes and he's about to blow?

"Mark... wait, please," I moaned, a desperate plea. "Don't... not yet..." Too late. His face went red and strained, and he bucked into me, with hard, final thrusts.

The sad, pathetic truth? Mark was always like this. A quick draw. Premature, they called it, didn't they? Maybe that's why I let Gary... maybe that's why I craved more, craved longer, craved harder. And Mark, oblivious, just kept pumping, lost in his short-lived bliss, completely unaware of the messy, shameful secret slicking his cock inside me.

The only part about having sex with Mark was, that he never could last long. He's always been an early ejaculator and suffered from premature ejaculation. Maybe that's why I allowed Gary to have his way with me. I wanted longer and harder sex.

He eventually pulled out kissed me and went to sleep, fast asleep. Snoring already gets his sex and just sods me and goes to sleep. I sighed laying there with two different loads inside of me as I again pulled up my knickers looking at him sleeping, "Typical."

TO BE CONTINUED