10 comments/ 93434 views/ 117 favorites Hot Tub MILF Machine By: Kethandra She watched the three tall, strong young men spring out into the air, hanging above the water, before knifing down through the surface where long full-body kicks carried them swiftly down their lanes underwater. The dark haired one in the middle led by a head, but broke soonest for the surface, beginning a long, efficient crawl that churned through the water. "No!" She grabbed the whistle on its cord between her breasts, blew three loud blasts. Three wet heads popped up, almost to the far end by the time they stopped. Two were red, the ones who had stayed under longer, maximizing the time and distance spent underwater, avoiding the speed-killing drag of the surface. "Dude, your mom's pissed now." One redhead said. "Conner! You had it, honey. The kicks looked strong, you had a good lead on them both. Then you bailed. You've got to stay down there." She ended with her arms out in a shrug. It showed off her toned arms and shoulders in her one piece racing suit, loose shorts pulled over the bottom. Jennifer's nipples pushed though the thin material, but she assumed the swirling print disguised the small shadows. It was a unavoidable truth with racing suits. "I wish she'd call me 'Honey'." One redhead muttered it as he pulled off his goggles, low enough for only the two other swimmers to hear. He got a splash in the eyes in response from Conner. The tall redheaded twins surged up from the tiled wall of the old pool, stood dripping on the narrow deck. They had the long-limbed, gently muscled bodies swimming favors, but she was still nearly their height. Like hers, their suits were thin and hid very little. Just part of the sport. She had set several school records swimming in high school. The small community college where she ran the Ceramics program, filling out her schedule and paycheck with Tennis and Golf classes under the PE department, didn't have a swim team. So when her son, Conner, and the McKinney twins asked her to sponsor a swim club, they got access to the old four lane 25-yard indoor pool, and she got an extra hundred bucks per month to watch them swim. And coach. And swim herself. "Why'd you two need to leave so early today?" She pulled the whistle over her head, set it on the wood bench. "I can't remember." The twins looked at each other before answering. "Oh. Dad's usual install guys are on vacation this week. A last minute delivery came up, so we're the backup muscle." "Well, don't strain your backs or anything. You know Regionals are in less than two weeks." She pulled down her loose shorts, flipped them with one foot onto the bench. The twins watched her turn, bend at her knees and trim waist, and launch herself out and over the nearest lane ropes to slice into the water of the second lane with almost no splash. She look two long powerful strokes underwater, her head not breaking the surface until she was behind Conner, her son and the only one else left in the pool. She boosted her weight out of the water with a hand on each of his shoulders to dunk him. The redheaded brothers watched, grinning, both clearly noting the way the position momentarily shoved her chest, her small firm breasts and protruding, hard nipples, out and on display, framed by her own down-pressing arms. Conner did not resist, allowing her sudden weight to shove him down toward the bottom of the the deep end. Conner felt the silky smoothness of her long toned legs brush by him on his descent. Holding his breath, in the silence of the water as his feet hit the deep diving well's tile bottom, he considered the past month, the changes that had happened since his mom had become the faculty sponsor to their nascent swim club. He and his mother had always been close, roughhousing and competing as he grew in strength and physical skills. It grew naturally from having an athletic mother and no father-figure around. In Conner's memory, she had never even really dated, saying her son was the only man she needed in her home life. Then the McTwinneys, as he'd dubbed the McKinney twins, had suggested her for their sponsor. Then she had started spending time with them in the humid, warm enclosed pool area. Had started wearing her old racing suits, and the comments had begun. Hearing continual comments on how hot his mother was, her body on display to back up the comments, Conner had been trying to keep his growing attraction to her at bay. She looked like one of the tall, sexy beach volleyball players on TV, lean, strong and sexy, and did nothing to hide it, here at the pool, or when the two were alone at home. It didn't help that his girlfriend's family had moved to Florida, a continent away, this past summer. They hoped to be able to see each other, and more than just see, over Christmas. But that was months from now. He grabbed a trim ankle lazily kicking in the water in front of him. He pulled. It forced her body underwater while helping launch his own back up. He let his hands trail along her legs, felt the nylon of her suit begin as his light touch traveled up her sides. His head broke the surface. Jennifer barely caught a breath before she was dragged under. The last thing she saw above the surface was the heavy metal door to what passed for the locker rooms swinging closed behind the twins. She relished the strong hands that stroked along her body as she sank. It had been so long since she'd really been touched, touched by a man. Her time around three muscular, barely dressed young athletes had brought feelings, yearnings to the surface. Yearning and feelings she had ignored for years, shoved into a place just out of sight, keeping her focus on raising her Conner. Doing one big thing right. It shamed her to recognize, deep inside, that it was the dark-haired swimmer, the truly forbidden one, who attracted her most in this dish of eye candy. The twins were aryan models in the making, strong and fair, but it wasn't enough. Her eyes and thoughts would return to the one who had been her little man; her big, strong boy; and had now become in reality the man of the house. Her son. She hadn't realized how attractive he was, how attracted she was, until the last few weeks. Mother and son continued the workout together, swimming side by side in the water, separated by one narrow lane marker. They did 100s, four lengths of the pool. One she would swim, pacing him, the next she'd rest and watch. She wanted him working on technique, not speed. How he could minimize drag, maximize the distance produced by each stroke, instead of trying to simply power through the water. He insisted on practicing more starts, with long dolphin kicks underwater, staying down as long as he could, before the session ended. She felt like she waited half an hour for him to finally exit the outside door to the men's locker room, trudging to the car. Then he wanted to stop at the store on the way home and wouldn't tell her why. Joe McKinney, the twins' father, was pulling out of their neighborhood as she finally turned in. In the big spa store delivery truck, he waved at them. "I wonder who's getting a hot tub?" She wondered out loud. It reminded her of the gaping, square hole in their redwood deck: the previous owners had built the deck around the spa. When they left the deck stayed, but the spa was not a 'fixture,' so it had been hauled away, leaving the empty cut-out. The McTwinneys stood waiting by their old Ford pickup in Jennifer's driveway. "What are you guys doing here? I thought you had a delivery to make." She called out the rolled-down window. "We did. Check it out." One beckoned with an arm as they headed for the outside steps that led up onto the deck from the driveway. It was a small town and a safe neighborhood; Jennifer had never locked the gate that closed off the steps. The two redheads were grinning widely when she reached the deck. Her mouth dropped open in shock. A square hot tub, the acrylic a bright swirly blue, erased the hole in the deck, hummed as water churned under the power of the submerged jets. "Good job, guys." Conner's smile was as big as theirs. "What the...what's going on? Where did this come from?" Jennifer was bewildered, sputtering. "The hole in this deck was just dangerous." One twin began and, as they often did, the other finished. "And Dad's thankful you took on the swim club." "...so we stay out of trouble." "This tub came back, just outside the 30 day return period. Old Fart Daniels demanded Dad come pick it up. He said he won't use it any more; he thinks it acquired magic powers." "Boys! Use the man's name. He's not that old." Brother two. "He called it the Hot Tub MILF Machine." Fists on her hips, head tilted to one side, she asked. "MILF? What's that?" A quick nervous glance passed between the twins, stopped briefly on Conner. Both twins were turning redder than usual. ""Um. A MILF is a mother who is...still attractive." "Hmm. I don't think I've heard that word before. Is it German?" Conner shook his head. He knew his mother enjoyed playing up the spacy art-teacher persona. The twins didn't know her well enough yet. One redhead snorted. "Maybe. I don't know the origins of it, exactly." "Milch is German. For milk." Conner tried to be helpful, or maybe offered a shovel for the twins to dig themselves in deeper. It was up to them. The other redhead shrugged. "Kinda makes sense." She looked at her son. He could see how delighted she was with the gesture. And amused with herself. "You knew about this?" He shrugged. "They told me to buy them some time, to get it over here and set up." She nodded, considering before asking the twins. "Why did he call it the MILF Machine?" "Well. He said he used it twice, joined by two different single mothers - he claimed - and things got too hot and horny for him both times. Sorry, but those were his words: 'too hot and horny.' Said his back couldn't take any more." "Oh. And this is the best part." His brother broke in. "The magic powers came from a radioactive can of Mountain Dew that was spilled in the ozonator." "Seriously. Radioactive soda. Where does he get this stuff?" Everyone laughed but Jennifer. "Exactly. Where did he get the Mountain Dew? We don't know that much about some of the effects of radioactivity." "Mom!" Son said, laughing. "Radiation does not make hot tubs magical." Jennifer paused. Turned to him, thoughtful. "You're right. Hot tubs are magical all on their very own." She continued. "Hot tubs are magical because they can relax muscles, ease a tired mind, and - I've heard it rumored - even cause a son to be respectful and loving enough to rub his mother's feet and shoulders while she soaks in the hopefully non-radioactive waters." As soon as she ended her pronouncement, as though the act was punctuation, Jennifer stepped out over the water and dropped into the swirling tub, still wearing the pants and t-shirt she had changed into after practice, crouching so she disappeared entirely under the surface. Conner only had time to move his head to one side, the first step in shaking his head again at his mother's spontaneous ways, before she exploded back up out of the water. Mouth agape. A loud breath inhaled in shock. "Fu...fuck! That's cold!" She was up the steps so fast it seemed she had jumped out of the water. The twins' laughter was choked off at the sight of her, drenched, soaked shirt clinging to her fit body, to the thin bra underneath. Somehow, her erect, protesting nipples pushing out through the wet clothes was more forbidden, more salacious, than seeing them through her much thinner swimsuit at practice. She hugged herself against the sudden cold, unaware she was emphasizing her nipples more. "So...cold." "Ah. Um. It'll be hot by morning." The twins shrugged in unison. "Now you tell me." She shivered. Conner grabbed his thick terry robe off the back of a chair. He had pulled it from the dryer this morning still damp and set it where it would receive all day sun. The dense, heavy cotton took forever to tumble dry. "Here you go." He held it open for his mother, reached around her from behind to help wrap the belt close. He felt her shiver, a strong shimmy of her shoulders, as she leaned back for an instant against his chest. He caught the scent of her hair, a hint of the chemical something from the water, not chlorine like the pool, over the familiar smell of Mom. "Thank you, sweetie. That helps." Her hand rested on his. Then she stepped away from him. Each of the twins got a hug of thanks for the surprise delivery. After the redheads headed down the outside stair, Jennifer shivered again. "Damn, boy. That water's cold. Give your mama a hug and warm her up." She leaned into him, her arms crossed close in front of her with her hands under her chin, her face tucking in close to the side of his neck. Conner wrapped his arm around her, held her in silence. He liked the idea of her wearing his robe, that he was responsible for keeping his mother warm. ----- Conner had trouble sleeping. He didn't want to even touch the hard-on that plagued him, not with images, sensations of his mother running through his head. Her incredible nipples on display. The suggestion that her son rub her feet, massage her shoulders, in the swirling hot waters of the new tub. Most clearly, the feel of his hands on her long wet legs after she dunked him, sliding down their length as he let her push him under, then grabbing them to pull her under in turn. To feel her body slipping down through his hands. So smooth, so sexy, so wrong. He grunted as hot cum splashed in striped waves over his stomach and chest. His hand had pumped him to climax entirely without his permission. God, his mom was so sexy. He rested one forearm on his brow, his heart beating fast, panting. "I gotta get laid soon." After that, he must have slept, because he awoke with a start. "Good morning, sleepy head!" Jennifer greeted his opening eyes after she jumped on his bed. She patted his leg through the covers. "Come on. It's tubbing time." She stood, grinning. Conner saw she was wearing his robe, the one he had wrapped her in last night. Seeing her in his clothing sent a small tingle through his groin. "I made coffee." She said it over her shoulder as she headed out of his room. Pausing in the doorway, she loosened the robe, slipped it down off her shoulders and let it drop to the carpet. Conner watched, managed to keep his reaction silent. Jennifer padded barefoot away without another look back. Conner stared until she disappeared, locking in on the image of her tall, toned body in the high cut black one-piece bathing suit, a maillot. Lean hips showed bare, smooth skin. Her small, firm bottom was displayed to perfection in the fashionable, flattering suit that was a far cry from her usual racing models. He pulled on the discarded robe after slipping into an older swimsuit. Like every swimmer, he had a drawer full of threadbare speedos in various patterns and team colors, and he was young enough to not yet associate the look with the stereotypical hirsute foreign beach-goers. She handed him a mug of coffee when he entered the kitchen. He tried to avoid looking too closely at her in the simple, flattering swimsuit. "No plans for Halloween?" He had forgotten tonight was the holiday. "Nah. No one's having a party." He shrugged. "I can't trick or treat. Too old." "You are awfully old." She nodded, with a mock-serious expression, full of concern. "Well, you get to spend All Hallows' Eve with your own personal witch then." "Witch? You? Mom, you're a princess, a magic fairy maybe, but not a witch." "Come on." She took his hand, pulled him out toward the tub. The morning air was chilly, but only just. Steamy mist rose from the tub. She released his hand, stepped down into the water. Putting her mug of coffee down, she turned on the pumps, eased down until only her head was above the water, neck supported by the cushion set above a cluster of massaging jets. "I don't know. Some places and times, an unmarried woman with a job was likely to be called a witch. Especially a tall, strong woman like me." Conner followed her down the steps into the tub. Both to escape the chill, and to hide the growing arousal his mother was causing. The maillot she wore showcased her body from her long legs to her round, athletic bottom to her strong, lean feminine neck and shoulders. But especially her bottom, the way she had dropped the robe, walking away from his bedroom. And even more especially her breasts and the nipples which peaked them, already clearly defined, but crinkling outward through the thin-stretched black fabric harder once they hit the chill outside air. He sat on the molded seat opposite her, swallowed a mouthful of his coffee and set it on the deck close to hand. He leaned back, not quite awake yet. His eyes opened wide when he felt her foot stroke across his ankle under the swirling water. Her shoulders and head bobbed slightly as she moved closer to him, following the squared circle of the tub. The foot left his ankle, reappeared at his knee before vanishing again. Her head settled at an angle on the cushion nearest his seat and he felt both of her calves settle onto his thigh. She had very defined, developed calf muscles, elongated barefoot in a way most women - and men who wanted the look - needed very high heels to achieve. A McTwinney had gone into detail about them days ago, as part of a broader discussion between the brothers about her legs. "Rub my feet, sweetheart. Please." She didn't use her pouty lower lip often, but he had never been able to resist it, even as a small child. He just couldn't let Mom be unhappy if it was in his power to fix. He'd rubbed her feet countless times before. Almost a ritual for them. Whenever they watched a movie on the couch, her feet appeared in his lap. He knew where they ached, where she moaned in relief and asked for more, where to go gently, or use extra pressure, or avoid all together. He could do it with little thought or attention, hands moving with their own confident knowledge, listening to her feet and body respond without conscious help. This felt nothing like that. Conner's mind raced while another part of his body responded without his conscious decision. He wrapped his near arm over and around both lower legs, turning his body away from her. Cradling her smooth calves this way, he could both rub her feet with two hands and keep the erection caught awkwardly in his swimsuit private. "Mm. That feels good, hon." Jennifer purred. "But why don't you turn around and face me? So I can see you?" "Alright, Mom." Conner held her crossed ankles in one hand under the water while he shifted to the seat directly across from hers. If he sat on the edge of the seat, her legs stretched just the right distance to reach him. Just the right distance for Jennifer's head to rest on the padded cushion while her body floated at the surface, supported by Conner's control of her feet. "That's it." She slurred the words. He could see the soles of her feet this way, and past them. His mother's eyes were closed, her lips parted in a look of bliss. Unlike previous foot rubs, this one required his conscious attention and his mind was failing him. Distracted by things like the curves of her small breasts, diminished more by her current position but still clearly defined in the thin, wet material as she arched. The nipples that crowned the small peaks, they seemed harder now, swollen. She moaned and arched more as he stretched one foot between both hands, thumbs pressed next to one another into the meat of the sole. She looked and sounded exactly like a woman in the midst of sexual delight. A beautiful woman giving in to pleasure. A woman Conner more and more wished he could possibly... Hot Tub MILF Machine His train of thought ended abruptly when her other foot sank down, forgotten. Arch, ball, toes slid down over his trapped erection. He twisted away, almost leaping out of the tub with his back to his mother, horrified he had betrayed her trust. "Ah. I. I forgot. I gotta help the guys. Ah. Move some stuff. I totally forgot." He dashed for the sliding door, leaving Jennifer open mouthed. He had been hard, really hard, rubbing her feet. Foot. She smiled. Really hard. She stretched out her leg, let it drop slowly through the water, remembering what he had felt like under her foot. The tip of a middle finger dragged up between her thighs, pushing in on the fabric there. The magic MILF machine. The finger circled down for another pass. "Bye, Mom." Her eyes popped open. He leaned out the sliding door, dressed. "Sorry. Gotta run." "Be home for dinner, baby. Let's BBQ." "Um. Okay. Sure. See ya." "Bye." She said it to the glass door he shut behind him. ----- Conner pushed the pace, climbing the winding trail. He still felt overflowing with nervous energy. Sweat ran down his back under his cotton t-shirt. She knew it now. His mom knew he wanted to fuck her. He did, didn't he? He wanted to fuck his mom. Until now he had avoided considering it so directly. But it was true. Motherfucking wannabe. Or a wannabe motherfucker. That was it. And a sick fuck. Sure she was hot, and not just for her age. Sure he loved her, trusted her, wanted to keep her safe and protected and happy, like no person in the world, but she was his mother. Trust. How could she trust Conner now? Now that she knew. He knew of a grove of twisted oaks along this trail. He had retreated to their shade and solitude many times. Solitude is what he craved now. To be alone with his shame. It had taken him less than a day to turn the joy of her new spa into a despicable revelation about her pervert son. Once he reached the grove, the wind's murmuring through the small dry leaves soothed the worst of his anxious thoughts. Mom had walked in on him once masturbating in the bathroom, full-on boner lubed with a handful of conditioner. It was never mentioned. Not even to platitudes about it being natural, or that everyone had urges. Maybe, just maybe, this too would be forgotten, ignored. If anyone could be trusted to deal with something as delicate as this, it was his mom. He was shocked to wake up with afternoon sun mottling over him. Less branches and fewer leaves shaded the flat spot he had chosen from the lower western rays. Heading back down the trail, his pace was relaxed. He trusted her. Dinner was almost prepared when he got home. Jennifer planted a quick kiss on his cheek. He noticed she'd opened a bottle of wine. "Welcome home, my big little guy. Do you want to take a shower? I've still got to Q the kebabs and corn." "Kebabs? Thanks, Mom." He kissed the side of her head as he walked behind her, toward his bedroom. "Yeah. I'd better rinse off. I kinda stink." "You smell good to me." She called after him. "But I changed your diapers, so anything's an improvement." She always made the most wonderful lamb kabobs and tonight was not an exception, with lean meat, and mushrooms, and sweet onion and peppers. Just enough seasoning. She knew what her son liked. And even more than the meal he liked the normalcy. Nothing to remind him, to embarrass him. "Thanks for that meal, Mom. Delicious." He pushed back from the table. With the salad and grilled corn, he felt well fed, not full. She stood, scooped up her wine glass, took a good swig, more than half of what had been left. "You are so welcome, baby. Now it's time to pay me back." "Wait. What?" He matched her infectious grin with one of his own. "My shoulders, silly. They've been waiting all day for their massage." She headed for her room. "Don't worry about the dishes, I'll take care of them later. Go get your suit on, baby. I expect you in the tub in five." Conner's shoulders slumped. He couldn't refuse or he'd have to explain why. He just needed to have control. He slugged back what was left of his own wine and pushed himself up out of the chair. His mother rounded the corner as he headed to his room. She twisted sideways, facing him, to dodge the collision. His hand fell on her hip, slid across a toned belly in sleek black Lycra as she passed by. "Three minutes. Be there." Her palm found his cheek, motherly and intimate, and maintained the contact until her outstretched arm reached its limit. The final contact was a stroke of fingers along the line of his jaw, catching slightly on the soft stubble of youth. Once in his room he stripped, reaching for a swimsuit from the top drawer. Swimsuit. Not good. Mom was wearing the same sexy maillot. Cut higher over her hips, it accentuated those already luxuriously long legs. The neck cut low and square to expose the upmost edge of her perfect firm little tits and the darker crease beckoning between them, the opposite of her high-necked racers designed for low drag in the water. Suddenly he was in a hurry. Thinking about her in that suit, he realized if he had to get in that tub at all, he'd better do it now, before he started to get hard again. He tied the string closed as he headed for the sliding door to the back deck, then adjusted himself inside the stretchy nylon pouch, to an angle where he could expand close to his own body instead of tenting out like this morning. He would keep his thoughts under control, but it was best to be prepared. ----- Both mother and son reclined, jets of water moving over their backs, eyes to the bright night sky. The moon was huge. And blue. "Once in a blue moon." He muttered. "I was just thinking about that. This is a blue moon. I'm glad they teach my boy something at that Podunk little college he goes to." "The one that employs you?" "Exactly. I wouldn't attend any school that would have me a teacher." "Okay, Grouchita Marx." "Ready to rub my shoulders?" "Sure. Let's do this thing." He sat down in the molded seat further, bringing his face and attention away from the sky. His mother was hidden by the water except for her head and the tops of her toned shoulders, naked except for two narrow black stripes, straps of Lycra linguini, not quite as so round or thin as spaghetti. "How do you want me?" Conner was thankful she had begun to spin in the water to face away from him. It ensured that she didn't see the look that crossed his face at her question. Oh. Let me count the ways. "Right here." Taking the point of each shoulder in a hand, he guided her in front of him. She sat on the edge of his seat, wedged between his legs, where his hands could comfortably work her shoulders and there was a buffer zone preventing her from backing into his hard cock. Her head slumped forward, limp, as his thumbs began to push into her muscles, and around the edges of her shoulder blades where those muscles attached. Occasionally she muttered encouragement when he hit an especially good spot. Most were more sounds than intelligible words. Conner wished they were words. The soft groans she made spoke to him of pleasures other than mere massage. She answered his wish. She brought her head up as his hands moved higher, thumbs pressing into the back of her long neck. "I wonder." "What do you wonder, Mom?" He had to bend his elbows as she leaned back closer to him, her head tilting back further. "I wonder if this hot tub really might be magical, at least on a magical night like this." "What do you mean, mom?" He didn't bother to keep the suspicion out of his voice. "Well, I actually get some respect and care from my cruel and wayward son. You haven't left me with one shoulder neglected like my poor right foot." "Mom!" "Just kidding. Seriously, I had to massage those toes myself so I didn't feel off balance." "Mom!" He couldn't help laughing. Count on Mom to break any lingering awkward-ice in her own unique way. She twisted in to face him, a shoulder against his chest, a hip dangerously close to his erection, which had thwarted his attempt to avoid an uncomfortable tent. Her nose was close to the point of his jaw. "No mother could ask for more of her son. I love you, baby." "I love you too, Mom." She twisted back away from him while boosting herself up onto his lap, closer. "Hold me." His hands, already dropping off her rising shoulders slid down and around her waist. She snuggled back against him. If she noticed an extra pressure low on her backside, she gave no sign. Her head fell back. "Ah. Conner. This feels so nice. Thank you." He paused, considering. "You are very welcome, Mom. You know, these waters do feel kinda magical. I feel very close to you right now." "Me too." Her response was a hoarse whisper. His hips wanted to push into that whisper. Instead, he pulled back, or tried before the molded seat stopped him. She felt him shift, moved with him when his hardness eased away from her. She snuggled back close, pinning him against his stomach. "Conner? Am I?" His voice was tight, close to her ear. It sounded like he was clenching his jaw, full of tension. "Are you what, Mom?" "Am I a MILF?" "Uhh!" She felt his body twitch, deep, involuntary. "You know...am I still attractive, do you think?" "Um. Ah. Attractive? Yeah. Mom, you're beautiful." Fingers found his hands, pulled them apart. She pushed up, floating off his lap. She could almost hear his relief. "Thank you, baby. That's nice." She turned in the water to face him. "But it is not at all what I asked you." Moving close, she straddled her surprised son, kneeling on the molded bench. One hand to each side of his head on the edge of the tub, she sank down, again feeling his stiff shape, this time between her legs. This time she faced him, looking down into his upturned, nervous face. His eyes widened when she moved her hips, easing back and forward on him. "It's okay. I take it as a compliment." "You...do?" "Oh yes." She ground down on him, two layers of soaked nylon separating son's cock from the mother who bore him. "It's nice you think I'm beautiful." She relished the change to his face, keeping him off balance. "But I do want an answer." Back. Forward. She saw his breath catch, his eyes drop to her nipples, pushing hard against the wet black fabric, almost level with his lips. She smiled when he looked back up, knew he'd been caught again. Caught hard, and caught staring. "Do you think I'm attractive? Not beautiful, but attractive." She sat down harder on him as she paused, seating his length firmly into the soft groove between her thighs. She couldn't prevent the bite down into her lower lip at the growing warm pressure there. "Yes, Mom. You look - you are - very attractive." She smiled. Wriggled her hips on him. "Yeah? Your mom's a MILF?" "Mom!" "Please. We can blame the magic hot tub, and a magic night. It's Halloween and the moon is full. What better time to blame a magic MILF machine hot tub?" She straightened her back, knowing it displayed her nipples for him, then leaned down to softly peck his lips. "Just for tonight, just in the magic waters, once under a blue moon, tell your mom she's a MILF. Please." His hips bucked, a small almost controlled motion, almost stopped in time. But she felt it. Her lips hovered near, her eyes searched his, waiting. The lower lip, the pouter, began a slow movement outward. He crumbled. "Yes, Mom. You are a MILF." She beamed at him, gave his lips another quick peck. "See, that wasn't so hard." Two mouths made matched O's at the unintended but too obvious pun. Her hips moved on him as she whispered, repeated. "So hard." "Mom..." "Shh. Blame the magic." He nodded, face tight. "Now that we have that straightened out..." She moved again, slow, back and forward. His eyes half closed, brow straining. "I have one more question." Back. Forward. "Tell me what a MILF really is." His eyes went wide, stunned. "I know, silly boy." Her own face looked distracted as she wriggled again on him. A hand found his cheek, stroked back through his hair. "Handsome young man. I want to hear you say it. Tell your mom. What does MILF mean?" He licked his lips, swallowed. His resistance was gone. "Uh. A Mother I'd...Like to Fuck." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "I think I like having a magic hot tub." Her face drew close, noses almost touching. "Me too." He leaned in, reached up to find her lips. To return his mother's earlier kisses. Both were hesitant. Hesitant to pull away, to end the kiss. Hesitant to go further, knowing boundaries could not be uncrossed. Her lips parted first, his tongue the first to lightly brush between them. He encouraged her, soft and slow, to open wider. Her tongue found his. Hesitation disappeared. He wrapped his arms deep around his mother's trim torso as she ground down on him. Small noises escaped as they kissed, almost frantic now, as if trying to make up for lost time, take advantage of a window of opportunity. As if the magic might leave, with the moon and the Eve. She sank both hands into his hair, pulled his head back, rising up on her knees and off his lap. Her pupils looked dilated as she stared down at him. "Tell me. Please. Tell me again." He smiled. He enunciated, emphasizing the first letter of each word. "Mother I'd Like to Fuck. You." "Oh!" Her lower body reacted, sinking down and in on him. Her fingers twisted in his hair as her groin ground on his, caught close to his belly. She groaned into his mouth once his tongue again found hers, his hand on her nape pulling her to him, her body shaking. His other hand slid up her side, found a small firm breast. Stiff, the nipple caught in the V between two fingers as he cupped her. When he squeezed his fingers in, trapping the hard nub, rolling it between them, the rhythm of her hips shifted to rapid, small motions tight against him. He caught it with his thumb and finger, releasing the rest of her breast to concentrate on her nipple. One of the nipples that had been driving him crazy since she took over coaching, and since the guys had begun kidding him about how hot she looked. He pinched it lightly, the wet Lycra knit pressed into the flesh, before stretching the cup of her breast out into a soft cone. Her teeth reached in and caught his upper lip. One clacked his front tooth. She let his lip go, laughed. Three quick 'get better' kisses were planted on him. "Sorry." He pulled her head back in, held her lips with his. For a heart beat. Two. Three. "I love you, Mom." "Oh, baby. You don't know how much." She grabbed his head, pulled it into her chest, held him close. The nipple he had just fondled was hard and distinct, pressing out of the black swimsuit, inches from his face. "I love you too." He seized the raised nub between his lips and was rewarded with her hands gripping his hair, a long whine beginning. Lips rolled and pinched and pulled in place of the thumb and finger before them. His hips humped up into her. His own throaty moan joined her cry. She shoved a single hand down, forcing it between them, reaching for him. She found his waist band, tugged, found it tied. "We need." She breathed in deep, closed her eyes. Exhaled. "We need to get these off you." He released her nipple. "Mom?" Her eyes opened. "Yes, honey?" "I want to get you out of your suit too. But tell me something first." "What, baby? Anything." "I told you. Now you tell me." She frowned before smiling. "What...Ohhhh. Son. I'd. Like. To. Fuck. You." His grin was wide. She followed up with a deep grinding wriggle against him. "So, Mom." He looked thoughtful. "This is all okay because of the magic radioactive water and it being Halloween and the blue moon and stuff, right?" "Exactly." She nodded. "And because I love you." "And we're both soaked in magic MILF water." "Drenched." "Good." He sat up off of the bench, holding his mother close, letting her float against him in the deeper middle of the spa. "Wrap yours legs around me, you sexy MILF you. And your arms. Hold tight." She squealed when he stood, holding her close around the waist and dropping his other hand down, large on one small, muscular cheek. The water still supported part of her weight until he started up the stairs, one slow, careful step at a time. She held tight to her son's strong frame, her long athlete's limbs holding her own weight, transferring it to his shoulders and hips, away from his arms. "What are you..." He shushed her. "Trust me." One hand opened the sliding glass door. He turned sideways to ease them through the opening. A wet foot kicked open her bedroom door. "Wait. We can't. It's the tub..." He dropped her onto her bed, onto her back, kneeling over her. "Mom." His eyes followed his hand as it ran down her body, tracing over the wet fabric of her suit, curving around the edge of one breast, over ribs and belly to descend between her legs, still open. "It's the water. The water and the moon and the day. As long as we're wet, it's all okay." He dragged his fingers along her groove, warm and tender. She arched, groaned, as he asked. "Are you wet?" "You know I am." He pressed in, made small circles, where the top of the groove disappeared. The arch deepened, holding her hips up off the bed. "Then we're okay. We still have the magic. I can feel it. Can you?" She was panting, staring up at him, as he continued to touch her. She nodded. "Mama still feels the magic." "Good. Let's get this suit off you." "No! Please. You first." Her eyes were low, staring at the long bulge he made in his own wet, clinging suit. Instead of stepping back, to have more room to strip, to put on a show for his sexy, hungry mother, he edged closer. He let his fingers drag up through the soaked groove, now slicker, wetter than the surrounding fabric. Her eyes followed the fingers as they drew an outline around his own shape under thin soaked Lycra. Her long, strong legs were still open wide, falling from where they had wrapped close around his hips. Now he was close enough for his hips to push her thighs wider, hold them open. Her chest heaved, nipples hard and exaggerated, her breasts reduced to soft hints by her position. Breaths quick and shallow. A flush of red mottled her upper chest, the bright color winning over more of her pale flesh as it moved upwards, her face approaching crimson. He focused on her lips, open and panting, as she locked on his fingers. Lips swollen with recent, taboo kisses. Fingers pulling loose the simple knot that had stymied her efforts in the hot tub. Knot undone, he hesitated, thumbs inside the narrow elastic band, drinking in the sight below him. And showing off for the sexy, forbidden beauty who rewarded him by running her tongue, quick and nervous, over her upper lip. Thumbs stretched the elastic band out and then down. He bounced free, stiff and heavy. His mother gasped when the head, weighty and full, smacked down against her. Slapping down against the upper crease of her soaked, nylon-clad entrance. Her face, red and focused, twisted. Eyes squinted, brows tight, mouth pulled back in a look of surprised pain. Muscles clenched down her neck and over shoulders. The red, no longer mottled, chest torqued along with the rest of her lean toned torso. "Mom? Are you okay?" He leaned close over her in concern, planting his length more firmly along her groove. She groaned, twisting further under him, eyes wide at the change of contact. "Oh god. I'm sorry." He moved to push back, away from her, to ease the discomfort he was causing. "No!" It was a harsh whisper. As if it took a much larger effort than usual to speak. Her legs whipped back around him, snugged him tight against her. The motion arched her back even more, ground her son's exposed erection against her soaked opening, now separated by only a single layer of thin, stretchy material. Hot Tub MILF Machine He caught his weight on outstretched arms, one hand to either side of her head, when her reaction pulled him over her. Her hips now pushed, retreated, pushed, shifting his shaft along the hungry crevice that pulsed under the intimate pressure. Her breaths deepened, eyes closed. The strain left her face and her eyes fluttered back open, found his concerned ones. She smiled. Smiled and wiggled her hips against him with a more languid, playful motion. "Thank you, sweetheart. I needed that." "Mom? Did you...you just came." Realization was clear on his face. "Uh-huh. Hard." Her hips continued slow, teasing circles. "A lot harder than the little one in the tub." "You came in the tub?" "Yes, baby. My sexy son got me off in the hot tub with his kisses. And his nasty talk." He almost growled, shoving himself close between her thighs in a twitching, grinding hump. A single pulsing spasm passed through his length, the underside of his shaft forced half inside her. Her eyes went wide. Her legs dropped from around him, one hand came up to his chest. "Did you just...?" "I..I think...I just leaked a little pre-cum." The hand pushed his chest back and away. It exposed a thick smear of clear fluid over half his swollen head, bobbing just above her, and a dime sized deposit of silvery shine melting into the thin black fabric that barely separated her from this man, her own flesh, her son. She pushed again, harder. He backed off, still unsure after thinking he'd hurt her. As he stepped back she scrambled off her back and the bed. She grabbed the wet suit stretched around his thighs, tugged down as she dropped to her knees on the floor. "Gimme." One hungry, breathy word. A hand continued to tug at his suit, encouraging him to step out of the wet tangle, while the other hand wrapped around the very base of his shaft. It pumped up toward the head, her parted lips hovering just out of reach. The fingers eased, squeezed tight again once they were reseated around the base. A pump up, out again. He watched a clear half dome form at her hand's demand, swell and swirl. A miniature snow globe about to burst. Then the globe, the swirl, his entire head disappeared inside a hot sucking mouth. He felt lips, her tongue, the hungry slurping of her son's seed as a roaring electric sizzle traveled up his spine. His fists clenched, body frozen except for the the small, rapid shaking that spread from his clenched thighs. Spread as his mother continued to suck, lick, devour him, now working more of his length into her mouth, her lips finding the hand wrapped tight around him at his very root. The sounds she made seemed to fill the room, wet, hungry, happy as she bobbed deep over him. "Mmmm. Mm. Mm. Mm." The hand that had guided the suit off his feet slipped between her own legs, changing the pitch, the vibration of her sounds around him. Deeper, more timbre. The upper hand left its grip, found his thigh. She pulled back before sliding him far into her mouth, the source of her shiny taste now pushing against the back of her mouth, the entrance to her throat. He felt her tongue escape her stretched lips, slicking along his tender underside, toward his tight, clenched sack. The electric rushing static roared behind his ears and brain. His mother was going to make him explode, choke her on his flooding release. His eyes opened. Not yet. "Mom." It was barely recognizable as a word but her eyes came up. He brought an open palm to the side of her head. "Stand up." He saw her hesitation, growled at her. "Now." She rose, bending to keep him in her mouth as long as possible. He blew out a long breath, trying to concentrate, to hold back. She stood, a half smile on her face, her eyes moving, unsure. His hands stroked up her arms, across her shoulders, fingers found twin narrow straps and began to peel them down. "Why did you stop me?" He paused when the straps were nearing her elbows, the low-cut, square neckline beginning to roll down over her small breasts. "You were going to make me cum." "I know." So close to a whine. A protest of his denying her that. She whimpered, perhaps the most erotic sound he had yet heard his mother make, when his renewed downward removal of her damp maillot caused the neckline seam to catch, hold, stretch and then suddenly release two sensitive, swollen nipples. He resisted the urge to immediately seize one in his lips. Instead, he continued to tug, to shimmy, to ease the stretchy thin fabric down off her exquisite form, drinking in the wonder he exposed. Mirroring her own actions, he dropped to his knees before her, both in control and giving loyal homage. More graceful than he, she lifted one long leg, then the other, to allow him to slip the suit off, leaving his mother entirely naked. He looked up at her. The narrow triangle of hair above swollen shimmering lips, the sleek muscles and curves of her lean belly rising up to where the small cups of her breasts stood out proud, peaked with the darker, tight-crinkled nubs of her nipples. He lifted a hand to her leg, inside the knee. He could feel the tiny quivers as he ran it up between her thighs, found slick soft moisture, brought another low whimper from her. "I want you, Mom." "I'm yours." "I want you, Mom." He repeated. "Take me." The hand dragged up over her belly, his thumb the last to leave its teasing touch below. Gently, he pushed. She fell back onto the bed, one leg coming up to either side of him. He followed her in, rising to a crouch. As she rolled back, he leaned forward, hands catching under her thighs on the bed. She was open and ready. His tongue, held wide and soft pushed low against her. She moaned, her hips responding. He tasted, licked deep, before slowly dragging his tongue and lips upward, separating and spreading open her welcoming, eager flower. Just one slow, deep pass before he eased himself higher, over her. A trace of the strained look he had mistaken for pain crossed her face when his swollen knob against slapped against her. Now more slick thickness had leaked down over his tip. Now nothing, not even thin nylon, kept mother from son. The knob slipped up, back, settled into the groove his tongue had widened. "I love you, Mom." "I love you. My handsome man." Her brow creased as he pushed, his head forcing her open, holding her wide, barely filled. "Yes. Do it. Please fuck your mother now." He did. Teeth gritted, trying to hold back his own eruption he slid into her, feeling her walls reluctantly give way to the intruding pressure. He saw her eyes roll back, the wide gap of white showing below her irises. Once more, her strong legs wrapped around his hips, snugged him close. "Don't hold back, baby." Her arms reached up, fingers massaging through his hair. "Fill me. Fuck me. Take me." He cried out then. An animal finally breaking its chain, able to run and leap. He thrust, pulled back, thrust. The rushing behind his eyes was a tumult, overwhelming. His stomach churned, twisted, before a chill shivered down his spine. "Yes!" She almost screamed it, face again flushing crimson, feeling his release before he did. Walls pulsed, squeezed tight around him as her legs locked him close to her arching, suddenly tensed body. He exploded. Unaware of what animal sounds escaped him as he released again and again deep inside her quivering, milking tightness. She pulled him close, holding him to her with arms and legs. She kissed the side of his head as his breathing slowly lost its raggedness, his heart slowed. Her own pulsing spasms eased as her body relaxed, confident it had milked every bit of his seed, deep within her. He drew in a long, shuddering breath. "Mom?" "Yes, sweetheart?" "Do you still feel it?" "The magic? Oh yeah. Stronger than ever." She wriggled under him, feeling him shift inside her. "Good. Me too." He turned his head, found the side of her neck, sweaty now. He kissed her there, savoring the salty taste. "I don't think it was really the water." He kissed her neck again. "Or the moon." Lick. "Or the holiday." Kiss. Her arms squeezed him tighter to her. She whispered. "Me either." "Good." His lips slid lower on her neck, tasting more. He moved his hips between her thighs, moving inside her enough to bring out a soft moan. "Because I'm not waiting for the next blue moon." The moon was gone when Conner awoke. The window let in enough light, diffuse from a single distant streetlight at the nearest intersection, to define the outline of his mother's side as she slept beside him. He could see the hard turn of her shoulder, the descent in a long half-V to her waist before the smaller, more rapid swell of her hip. He snuggled in close against her, arm slipping around her waist and up between her breasts. Her hands found his there. "I love you, Mom." Her hands squeezed as her hips wriggled back on him. "Oh, Conner. You're the best son a mother could ask for." She wriggled again. "Is that what I think it is?" "Maybe." Guilty fears of being caught doing wrong flashed through Conner's mind. "Do you want it to be?" She pushed back, squeezing him between her cheeks. "Do I want it? Yes, I want it. Very much. Gimme." "Not yet." He used his arm to roll her toward him and onto her back. A knee eased her legs apart as he sucked a nipple in. Fingers found the back of his head. His weight shifted over her, bringing his other knee in between hers. His hard shape dragged down between her thighs. Hips pushed up to meet his in time for him to slide down between her legs. He kissed above her small navel, on, and below. Then lower. She pulled at his hair. "Honey, no. Please." Still, her legs did not resist when he bent them up, out. "Please, baby, no. I'm not..ohh. Damn." "Mom." He lowered his head to her, sucked soft labia in to stroke with his tongue, before pushing between them, tasting deep inside her. "You're perfect, Mom. This is what I want." He lowered his mouth to her again. The fingers eased in his hair, for a moment. He felt her hips rise to him, felt the small shaking start. Looking up he could see two nipples outlined against the white wall, straining upward. Beyond them, the gleam of her eyes. Little else. He could hear hear quickened breaths. When he spoke he kept his lips a whisper away from her, brushing like feathers teasing tender flesh. "Besides. I'm just following your advice." A tongue flicked over the tender area where her open lips merged together . "Go down and stay down, you keep telling me. Stay down as long as you can. I'm a good son; I do what my Mom tells me."