10 comments/ 89230 views/ 52 favorites Isabella's Fella By: Ernest Hemingsex WARNING: If you are not 18 or older, please leave this page immediately. Incest—a word that has extreme negative connotations. The image that most often comes about when the word is mentioned is that of a father forcing himself on his daughter. Any forcible sex act, especially done by a parent to a child, should result in the parent being punished in legal and non-legal ways. This is a fantasy of consensual incest between adults. It is intended for adults who are interested in reading about consensual sex between relatives. If this offends you, do not continue any further. * "Mail call! Last mail call." Lance Corporal Michael Faso was conversing with fellow Marines in their Baghdad base when the yell caused them to all break for the military postal carrier. They ran toward the center of the base where other Leathernecks were converging. Mail call for all the troops was like ringing the dinner bell to a recently rescued castaway. He eagerly waited, hoping, for his name to be called next, and the envelope he had longed for the past two weeks had arrived. "Simmons. Stanley. Williams..." Michael maintained a big grin, which prevented him from jumping up and down like a puppy when everyone comes home. "Faso. Klein..." He saw the envelope in the hand of the Marine and grabbed it. He recalled those commercials of people winning the Publisher's Clearing House award. As he jogged to an area of the camp less populated, he felt he now had some more privacy. He tore open the envelope. Faso pulled the letter out of the envelope and flipped it open. My dearest Mikey, My heart jumped for joy when I received your note saying you were coming home from Iraq earlier than planned. I cannot even begin to describe how happy I am you are coming home! We have so much to celebrate—you being alive and well. We also have some things to discuss. I was very relieved to read in your first letter that said when you got home it was very important to discuss about what happened between us. I agree. We need to talk. I have missed you oh so much. I cried. I cursed. I longed. Well, let me stop there and save that for our discussion. I also don't want the military censors blowing a gasket. J I will take a flight out and meet you at Camp Pendleton. Until then: be safe, my love. Love, hugs, and kisses, Isabella Faso had finished the words of the letter but he still stared at the paper. He was a combination of happy, sad, guilt-ridden, and aroused. His image was of the statuesque Isabella: the long black wavy hair that reached down to the large, bountiful breasts; deep brown eyes that were piercingly dark; a friendly smile that could melt a drill sergeant's toughness; slightly flared hips that when she walked had more rolling motion than the Atlantic Ocean; and legs that seemed to go on forever and then some. His minds eye was starting to form a lovely picture of the succulent nether lips and neatly-trimmed hair between those smooth thighs, when a hand on his shoulder shook him out of the oncoming X-rated image. "Hey Mikey!" Faso blinked his eyes. It was his battery mate, O'Grady. "She wrote you, didn't she?" Michael just looked down at the ground and sheepishly smirked. "Ah, look at that face. Hey Carlson! Carlson!" The Irishman called to the hulking Private First Class who was commiserating with other Marines in a nearby group. Carlson turned to the caller and looked at O'Grady and then the Italian. "Hey Fatso! It's from Isabella isn't it?" Fatso was a nickname to Michael's last name, but he was far from anything fat. He was 6' 1", lean, muscled, and ripped thanks to the US Marine Corps' infamously tough training. The jet-black haired, 21-year old rolled his eyes when his other buddy plodded to him and O'Grady. Carlson gave a southpaw punch to Faso's right shoulder. As if on cue, O'Grady puckered his lips. "I miss you Isabella." He began kissing the air. Carlson joined him in the fake mockery of his friend. "Oh, Isabella. I miss you. I have been playing Spank the Monkey for so long, I forgot how to fuck." He too puckered his lips and air kissed. The two were a chorus of fake kisses, and "Isabella, I miss you's". The targeted Michael just laughed. "Ten-hut!" The three soldiers came to immediate attention, their backs razor straight, and promptly ceased joking. It was their Sergeant Major. "Just what the hell on God's green earth are you puss-nuts doing?!" The three remained straight as arrows and silent. "O'Grady and Carlson! Step forward." The two Marines move forward in front of Sergeant Hauser. "It looks like you two sheep-dips should be getting a room at the Baghdad Hilton." The muscled-bound drill instructor moved so close to the troopers that their three noses formed the points of an imaginary triangle. "Knowing how your ears must be encrusted with earwax, I will repeat my question!" He boomed into their faces. "Just what the hell on God's green earth are you doing?!" O'Grady and Carlson eyed each other. Carlson offered up first. "We were breaking Faso's balls, sir, Sergeant Major Hauser, sir!" The highest ranking soldier remained silent, not taking his eyes off the other two. After what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only a few seconds, Hauser replied. "Ohhhhhh, you were breaking the balls of Lance Corporal Faso! Is that the truth, Private First Class O'Grady?" He now peered at the other ramrod-straight Marine. "Yes, sir, Sergeant Major Hauser, sir!" O'Grady yelled his answer. Hauser cast his steely glare at Carlson and O'Grady, and then Michael. Silence hung in the air amongst the four Leathernecks. For Carlson, O'Grady and Faso it felt like forever. But again it was actually only seconds. The sergeant responded: "Well, then, carry on!" and walked away. The three friends slumped in relief and chuckled. That night, his last night in Iraq, Michael was lying and waiting for sleep to overtake him. His long, strange trip was almost over. He mused on how this all started. It was almost three years ago. Michael had turned 18 and just graduated high school. He had the house to himself, and just received a brisk blowjob from his 20 year old girlfriend, Luz. The sexy senorita's mouth had worked its usual oral magic on Michael, bringing him to his 7 ½ length in joyous fashion. "Hmmm, papi," the naked Latina purred in between tongue lapses of his cock's frantic head. "Your penga tastes so goooood. Please fuck me now." Her livid tongue slid up and down the engorged blue penile vein. Michael had his eyes closed during most of the event, his entire nervous system alive with sexual glee. He opened his eyes as he felt pre-cum start to bubble out. He watched the whitish liquid slide down his pole to the tip of Luz's tongue. Keeping her brown eyes on his, she dragged her tongue straight up along his cock, the pre-cum dissolving on her slithering mouth organ. She then dropped her ruby red lips on his helmet, tightening the hold on his crown, and then once again sent out her tongue. She tickled Michael's penis hole and enjoyed more pre-cum coming (pun-intended) forth. He felt as if he had been struck with a cattle prod. "Oh, fuck!! Luz, you do that so good!" She sat up in front of the recent graduate. He could not help watch her big, light brown breasts, capped with pointy eraser-like nipples, jiggle. Next his eyes were drawn to her open mouth as she slowly licked her lips, first the top then the bottom. "Tu mammi needs to be fucked now," she stated in dirty Spanglish. It was a cross between a plea and a command. She repositioned herself, swinging her sexy right leg over Michael, so that she was now on all fours. Her curvy ass, smooth cheeks spread lewdly apart, was a mere inches from Michael. Luz's in-heat aroma hit him like the preverbal Mack truck. Her back curved, causing that luscious ass to stick higher in the air. She spread her left knee a little further on the bed, causing everything else of her lower region to spread. This seemed to release more, and stronger-scented aroma. Michael was like a deer caught in the headlights. His girlfriend's sex scent wafted rapidly into his nostrils. Her splayed pouty, pink slit was very moist. The white bikini tan lines on her buttocks against her brown skin was also sexy. She began to swirl those buttocks in the air, forming slow erotic circles. "Mucha cliente," Luz hissed, as her right hand when to her right ass cheek and rubbed it. The pads of her fingers and the palm caressed the fleshy buttock, while the entire butt continued its sensual, circular dance. The manicured fingernails trailed along the curve of the cheek, perilously inward to the damp lips of her spread vagina. "Tu mammi wants your big canoli and all of its cream." That was it for Michael. He lunged forward, pushing aside her hand. "Oh!" she exclaimed, not expecting this. She wanted to fuck, but always liked to tease and entice her boyfriend as much as possible. He got up on his knees and slid his eager prick into her well-lubed snatch. She backed up that sweet rump and sealed the deal. "Ayyyyyy, papi!!" the sexy Dominican cried. "Ugh!" he responded sounding like a beast on Animal Planet as he started boning his girlfriend at a furious clip. The carnal slapping of flesh against flesh began. The fired-up Italian took hold of those Spanish hips and started pounding Luz from behind. The flesh slapping was soon joined by their pillow talk. She was stuttering "Ahhhh! 's" and "Ah, yeah! 's", while he moaned "Fuck yeah!" A third sound was added to the mix: the bed started squeaking. The lusty Latina met the virile teenager thrust for thrust. Michael was moving like a jackhammer. He rapidly, hungrily motioned his steel dick in and out of her receptive, oily orifice. He looked down at her. Luz on all fours was always a hot sight. He focused on her round, smooth ass cheeks which rippled and jiggled. Her wailing, sometimes in Spanish and sometimes in English, spurred him on. He particularly liked when she combined the two languages. "Ay, si! Si! Pappi! Si, fuck me, pappi. Fuck your mammi!" He obliged his girl by picking up his pace and drove into her, over and over with the ultimate in physical speed: teenage sexual energy. His young, stiff cock was incessant as it shoved in and out of her soggy twat. Then, something made Michael' eyes tear away from the convulsing female below him and look in a 10 o'clock direction. Standing outside of his bedroom doorway was Isabella, his mother. Their eyes were locked on each other. Luz, her head in the pillows and turned to the right away from the door, was lost in the delirium of this good fucking and had no idea there was a visitor several yards away. Isabella was a striking brunette, 5' 8", 122 lbs, with a curvaceous figure and beautiful face. On more than one occasion she was told she looked incredibly like Catherine Zeta-Jones. Many had suggested to the single parent that she should try out as the actress' stunt (or body) double. A Hollywood job was not for this 41 year old, her only preferences being her son and her accounting career. Michael's mother was in a state of shock. She had done so well with one of her firm's newest and largest clients, that her boss gave her the afternoon off. When she had opened the house door seconds ago, the throes of love-making filled her ears and ignited her Italian anger. "I TOLD MICHAEL, NO VISITORS! And no screwing in my house!" were her first mental reactions. Her next physical move, after locking the door, would be to break up the copulating couple. Next she'd toss Luz out—Isabella wasn't sure if she would allow the girl to get dressed first, and then read the Riot Act to him in full hi-def sound. But that all unexpectedly changed when Isabella reached her son's open door. Upon seeing her son and his girlfriend in a doggie style position—one of her personal favorites—she was stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes were met by Michael's. Instead of being shocked at discovery, Michael continued fucking Luz. The unbridled lovemaking was just too much to stop. He and his mother just looked at each other. They were both taken back at their individual reactions to the surprise and the situation. Isabella stood at the entranceway with her mouth open as if she wanted to say something but nothing came out. Michael was letting out low guttural sounds as he continued his piston-like motion. The sounds were the same as before: Michael's grunts, Luz's moans, and the bed squealing. To the young Italian, the sound of his mother's silence was the most deafening. Isabella, maintaining eye contact with her son, tilted her head to the left in a quizzical manner. She felt paralyzed. Where is my anger from a few seconds ago? I heard them when I came in the front door and was ready to rip them both new ones. But now that I am here, seeing and smelling this carnality—I can't do anything but watch. Why? Her brain was on maximum overdrive trying to figure out the sudden change in her own behavior. She visually flickered away from Michael's eyes to the whole scene: her son, her only child, was naked as the day he was born and fucking his pretty girlfriend, who was also nude, from behind. The room smelled like a whorehouse during Fleet Week. The flesh slapping had a porno film sound effect. And the squeaking bed was like one in an hourly hotel. Sex. This room, this whole scene, was a raging image of sex. Sex was something that had been missing from the divorcee's life for over a year. Prior to the breakup, she had a very healthy sex drive. After the disintegration of her marriage, Isabella had thrown herself into her career and being the best single mom possible. She had ignored all her own physical needs and desires for fifteen months. Now, here was all of that suppressed sexuality right in front of her...live! What was compounding the mental revelation was that her own son was one of the participants, and she didn't care. In fact, she felt a little... Michael sure does have a very nice body, she dreamily critiqued. Whatever moral restraint that would have materialized, was repulsed back by everything X-rated in front of the raven hair beauty. "Oh, Michael, you fuck so good!" Luz complemented loudly, her face thankfully for Isabella, was still opposite from where she stood. The mother's eyebrows rose at the lusty appraisal. Michael was a mixture of sex-crazy, and confused. He still looked at his mom. Passed was his initial shock of discovery, replaced now by wondering why she just stood there silent. He saw her nose twitch. Luz sure has some sex scent. I could smell it in China, summarized the parent. Isabella, head still tilted, lowered her eyes to where Michael and Luz were joined together. I can't see the whole thing since he's screwing at a steady pace, but it would seem my son has one hell of a schlong. Michael noticed the break in the mutual gaze and where her eyes had ended up. That someone was watching him fuck, albeit it was his mother, seemed to spur him on. He began shoving his ecstatic, sex-sap covered pole even faster into the Latina's yearning chasm. He readjusted his grip on her hips, and moved like there was no tomorrow. He was like a pile-driver. "Ohhhhh, baby!" Luz announced. "That's it! Fuck me like that!" Michael's hips and Luz's bottom were a frenzied blur. His swaying testicles kept bouncing off her like a wrecking ball while his sleek, hard dick pummeled non-stop. Her stretched, gooey snatch spouted love juice like a cracked damn. As Luz was shoved back and forth on the bed, her big hard-capped tits swayed furiously. Her moaning ended up a crescendo of stuttering. "Fuccckkk my pussy! Fuuucckkk your mami's pussyyyy!" The sound of Luz's louder groaning made Isabella blink and snap her head out of the tilted position. The single mother's body began doing things she never expected: her nipples were starting to harden, and moisture was growing between her legs! Isabella was getting aroused, the first time in a very long time, watching this scene of raw sex. Her dormant sexuality was released like a caged tiger and oversweeping her. Her brewing lust seemed only encouraged and heightened by the depravity of the situation: a mother voyeuristically enjoying her son having sex with a pretty girl. The brunette remained motionless, not because of a state-of-shock, but because she didn't want to interrupt this phenomenal scene of mad love making...and didn't want to stop watching. Michael noticed a change in his mother's face. She was no longer aghast at the sight before her. Now her eyes were lowered...and focused on his member sliding in and out of Luz's frothy and open slit. Mom is enjoying me see fuck Luz? Michael increased the tempo of his hip thrusts, much to the X-rated applause of his girlfriend who was now crooning in Spanish. He eyed his mother and saw a small quiet sigh escape from her mouth. Or is she just enjoying seeing me nude and hard like an ironing board? Michael withdrew his hard-on completely out of his girl's cunt, and moved backward so his manhood could stand proud...for his mother to see! The withdrawal made a sloppy "pop" sound that rang in Isabella's ears. Upon suddenly seeing her son's penis, solid, on an angle, covered in Luz's secretions, Isabella's instinctively licked her lips. Michael caught her eye and grinned proudly. A teaspoon of guilt came to the mother's mind but she was too far gone in wantonness to care. "Hey!" The Latina protested at no longer feeling her boyfriend inside of her. Getting turned on by this unexpected visitor, Michael began to rub his dick up and down the wet Dominican pussy. He was teasing Luz, but in effect, was teasing his mother. He felt like he won the lottery when he saw his mother lick her lips again, this time more hungrily at seeing his manhood full length, and teasing Luz. My mom is a freak! He concluded with unexpected glee and more horniness. She likes what she sees! Luz was about to pick her head up in the direction of Isabella. The 18 year-old quickly plugged back into the yearning orifice—hard. "Ay Dios mio!" Luz returned to her original head position away from the bedroom entrance. Michael resumed drilling his girlfriend senseless. But that was primarily a physical reaction. His mind and visual focus was on his mother. I never noticed before, but Mom is hot. His eyes trailed over her. She was in a navy woman's business suit, white blouse, and black pumps. The suit jacket was closed thanks to one button, but a blind man in Canada could see Isabella had a rack, which was slowly ascending and descending as her breathing increased. The blouse was conservatively buttoned, showing not a hint of chest flesh. The skirt portion of the suite reached just about the knees with a modest slit on the side. She had her weight shifted to her left side, which stretched out the skirt over her slightly parted legs and suggestively accented her left hip. Oh those legs, Michael summarized, oh those lovely, long legs. The patent leather shoes, 3 inches high, completed giving Isabella a corporate but sexy look. He had lost count how many times she was told she looked like Catherine Zeta-Jones. Michael knew the actress was gorgeous but he never equated the two...until now. My mother is definitely a MILF! Isabella meanwhile was like an M-80 on the Fourth of July: lit and ready to go. Her nipples were aching against her bra. She undid the jacket button and shimmied her shoulders to widen the lapels. My son likes showing off. Then two can play that game. Isabella's Fella She wouldn't remove the jacket or anything else, but she would display her mammary reaction to this mini-porn flick. With a sly grin she thrust out her abundant breasts, forcing the already-hardened nipples to push against the blouse. Michael's eyes bugged out when he saw his mother's bodacious ta-tas, and the teats straining through the blouse material. He started lowering his jaw when Isabella opened the top two blouse buttons, giving a nice view of the top of her cleavage. The visible stretch of bra was a lavender color. Mom's got some rack. And look at those nips! raced throughout the teenage brain. Next the single parent brought her hands up to her tits and began caressing them. Through the blouse she held them, weighed them, slowly squeezed them, let the flats of her hands skim the curves of the breasts. She did this to counter-tease her son, but more importantly she needed physical relief from the smoldering love-making. Isabella's fingers now focused on the eraser-like nipples. She grasped them through the blouse material that covered them. She rolled and tweaked them, doubling the pleasure she was feeling from massaging her breasts. "Ahhh," she sighed as quietly as possible. The inside of Michael's brain was like a washing machine on the spin cycle. Here he was banging from behind his luscious girlfriend while his equally luscious mother was watching and rubbing her breasts and nipples. He felt his sought-after ejaculation was on the way but he wanted to suppress it. He wanted to see if his overheating Mom would do more. Isabella's panties, lavender like the bra, were a French cut. The gusset was now brimming with her leaking sap. Her cunt wanted manual attention—now! Isabella widened her stance, shifting to her right which caused that knee to poke through the skirt slit. In a haze of pure wantonness, she lifted the hem of the skirt almost to the waist with her left hand and slipped her right hand, under the panties' frilly waistband, and into her steamy cunt. She tossed her head back and proceeded to finger herself. The mind of the young man went from a running washing machine to feeling like he had just been electrocuted. Holy shit! he exclaimed to himself First he saw the indentation of her cuntal lips against the thin fabric. Then he watched his mother's fingers, hidden from view by the soaked panties, feel her cunt. He could tell by the hand action that she was rubbing the mound. It was slow for only a few seconds, moving up and down, but then increased in intensity. "So needed! So needed! So hot!" Isabella's mind screamed while she suppressed letting out a loud groan. Her fingers were now coated with her brimming juices as they pressed harder over the scalding public area, gliding over the fuzzy hair patch and concentrating on the puckered, wet lips. Isabella could feel her orgasm starting to approach. In a combination of masturbatory frenzy and continued teasing, her hand stopped rubbing, pulled aside the panties, and whorishly displayed her dripping, nude pussy to her son. Once again, Michael's eyes widen to see what many boys have thought about at least once in their life. His mother's sex was a taboo treasure. The labia was puffed out and swollen. The neatly trimmed pubic hair was matted. He could literally see the oils bubbling in the open, pinkish hole. Isabella's cunt was like a hot steamy swamp. She ran her shaking fingers across the plump lips, rubbing their slick insides. Next she used her fingers to open the pink petals, spreading them wide, showing to her son the forbidden flesh, and letting her joy button peek out. She then gradually eased the middle finger deep into the sodden gash. Most of her hand was shiny from her non-stop ambrosia. Michael was in utter delirium. He no longer wanted to hold back his orgasm. He wanted to cum—in front of his mother, who was sexily frigging herself off before him. It was an erotic case of cause and effect. He speeded up his thrusting and was slightly amused to see Isabella's probing digit try to catch up to him. Their eyes catch each other. His were wide as in the old-time cartoons. Hers were half-open, looking dreamy. Both of their mouths were open. She licked her lips again. He reached the finish line first. "Arrgghhhh!" Michael bellowed as he quickly departed Luz's cunt again and began a thunderous release of sperm on her back and ass. His eyes cast down quickly to his spewing pecker, and then back to Isabella. She was shaking just outside of his door as she herself was about to come. Her eyes were locked on her son's ejaculation. Almost there, almost there! She was half announcing, half begging herself to speed up. Luz wailed, "Ooohhhh." Her orgasm had just hit. She would discuss later why the hell did Michael pull out. But for now, she wanted to joyful experience the crescendo. Her scorched cunt opened its floodgates, and her sexy ass was swaying all over the place. Almost! Almost! Isabella mentally screamed. The long-awaited climax for the single mom ripped through her like an earthquake. She bit so hard down on her lip to prevent shrieking that it bled a little. Her crotch, hand, and inner thighs were awashed in sex syrup. Her hips gyrated, much to the delight of her son who was multi-tasking: cumming big-time on his climaxing girlfriend, and watching his mother successfully bring herself off. The mother leaned for support against the hallway wall. She was overjoyed at the scandalous and way over-due orgasm, and thrilled as she watch her son's dick send thick, white threads skyward, and then plop back down either on Luz's back or bottom. The coppery test of blood made her realize the show was over and she had to get out of there. Mother and son looked at each other one more time, both smiling mischievously. She blew him a kiss, and he did likewise. Isabella slowly slinked back down the hallway to the front door. The raven hair beauty knew she smelled like a porn queen right after a movie. Her fingers and inner thighs were coated in her sex sap. She got back into her Infiniti and parked it down the block, which gave her a view of her driveway. As she turned off the ignition, she finally had a chance to catch her breath. She was still on sexual fire, lit by incestuous voyeurism. Her hands gripped the steering wheel. Her massive breasts heaved up and down as her breathing was labored. She leered at the auburn Toyota in her driveway, like a stalking cat. She wanted the car's owner gone, and soon. Isabella was nervous, excited, and beyond any moralistic reasoning. She had just thrown society's rules out as she allowed herself to get turned on by watching her son bone his girlfriend, and masturbated to it. Adding even more fuel to the fire was her son saw her and seemed just as turned on first by seeing his mother, and then when she revealed herself and played with herself while he copulated. She was determined to fuck and get fucked by her stud of a son. Dampness between her thighs began once again. Her wait was thankfully short-lived. She saw the front door open and out stepped a clothed Luz. The door closed behind her. Isabella couldn't help but watch that sexy Dominican ass, encased in tight denim jeans, sashay back and forth toward the Corolla. The heart of the single parent jumped as she watched Luz pull out of the driveway, turn left and drive off. Isabella waited literally one minute before she revved the Coupe. The mother frantically locked the house door and rushed back toward Michael's room. She stopped in the hallway when she saw him standing just outside the bathroom holding a towel. He was still nude, looking like Michelangelo's David. Apparently he was going to take a shower. A smile, a mixture of motherly pride and unnatural lust, appeared on her pretty face. He was a little surprised by her sudden entrance—now he was surprised—but returned the smile and stare. Still smiling and maintaining eye contact, the accountant strutted forward. Her eyes flared open as she was moving closer to the young, sculptured body. With savage furry, she shoved her lips against his. He returned her energetic move and locked his lips against hers. They quickly enfolded their arms around each other. Their heads twirled as their lips released their grip on each other, allowing their tongues to play. Michael's tongue jutted out first, expecting to duel with its counterpart. Instead, her lips went around it as Isabella began sucking on his tongue. While all this passion-filled activity was taking place, the rest of their bodies were also converging. She grinded herself over and over against her son. Her nipples, hard and poking through her blouse, seared against Michael's hairy chest. Isabella's crotch—the dampness increasing—was frantically rubbing against his naked hard-on. The high school graduate responded in kind, dry-humping the outside of her skirt. "Ugh, argh, ugh," she throated as her son's lips were now all over her earlobes. "Ahhh," he exhaled as he switched from the right earlobe to the left. A few seconds later they were lip-locked again. Isabella's arms went from around Michael's upper body to around his neck. She climbed up on his body like a wild animal and wrapped her left leg around his hip, resting the heel of her shoe on his buttocks. She broke the kiss and asthmatically urged, "Let's go to my bedroom." Michael looked at her. "I was going to take a shower to get, you know, Luz off of me." Isabella peered at him. "I am about to fuck you, my son. Do you think not mixing Luz's pussy juice with mine makes this any less wicked?" Michael's cock twitched in response. Her other foot left the ground to scissor him between her supple thighs. The skirt slit ripped wide open. She hungrily lapped at his neck and kissed his lips. The savage sexual fury surprised and delighted him. Michael grasped her ass for support. He carried her to her bedroom where he laid her on the bed and they proceed to remove her clothes. Soon each article of clothing was on the floor in a different corner or part of the room. It was as if someone yelled "Time Out" so the two could admire each other's nakedness. Michael stood at the foot of his mother's bed and gazed at the nude, forbidden beauty outstretched before him. His mother truly was a Grade A MILF. Her large breasts rose and fell with each rapid breath. He surmised they were 36-37, and sagged ever so slightly. He sighed at their fullness. The nipples were thick, pink and swollen, begging to be suckled. Her waist was better-than-average. Her hips flared out just a bit, adding to her mature allure. Her long, sexy legs were seductively parted. Her vagina, spread before him like a banquet, showed sparse black pubic hair and engorged shiny lips that were open, displaying the dewy, salmon-colored insides. The marshy smell from it immediately drifted through the room. Sex sap leaked from her hot hole, down to the crack of her ass. The 18 year old, hornier and harder than he ever was before, felt no regret about what happened—and what was about to happen. Isabella, in turn, viewed him in way that a lover would. She could now "drink" in what she had witnessed before but without the fear of getting caught. The fact this was her son and the inherent taboo element only stoked her white-hot lust. He was a strapping young hunk. His body showed payoff from the weight training he began in senior year. His chest was starting to get cut. His shoulders were broadening, while the waist was near wash-board. His thighs looked strong. Best of all for the highly aroused woman, Michael's thick, rigid penis stood proudly above his pinkish nut sack. The erection bobbed up and down with his rapid heart beat. The "helmet" was impressive, and the purple vein seemed to throb. She guessed he was a little over 7 inches, and definitely had some girth. She could imagine cradling, kissing, and licking the massive testicles. The divorced beauty licked her sex-hungry lips at the illicit, delicious sight of young manhood before her. Now THAT'S a stimulus package! she thought. Their mutual admiration of each other's bodies ended. It was now as if someone yelled "Time In." The frantic motions from before in the hallway started again. Michael rushed forward to mount his mother. Her eyes widened as he knelt on the bed between her splayed thighs and his erection pulsed just above her stomach. He, in the classic push-up position, lowered himself onto her. His bulbous cock head split Isabella's cuntal lips and entered into her buttery slit. Isabella's pussy was so drenched, so spread open, her son easily slid in. "Ugghhh!" The two groaned simultaneously at the exquisite sensation as he was now completely inside of her—his mother. The incestuous impact of Michael having entered Isabella exalted their primal impulses, and scorched their frenzied minds. Her vaginal walls easily adjusted to what it hadn't had in over a year—a nice hard one. They enveloped and welcomed Michael's penis. The sex organs of mother and son seemed like they were perfectly fitted for one another. Sexual instinct took flight. Isabella's sexy hips began undulating and Michael started pumping his young, firm tool into her eager and simmering crevice. "Fuck me, Mikey! It's been so long since I had a good fucking! Fuck me!" This dirty talk—from all people—caused the son to increase his thrusting tempo. "Is this good, Ma? Is this a good fucking?" he inquired. Looking down at his mother as her head slowly thrashed from side to side, he already knew the answer. "Oh, yes! Oh, oh so good! Yes! Yes! Such a good fuck!" she gasped hoarsely. "I need it so badly, baby! So bad!" Waves of intense physical pleasure, long since forgotten, returned and emanated throughout her body. The sexually-starved brunette gyrated her hips and was in synch with his motions. Her glistening juices coated the stiffness of Michael's long, thick cock as it steadily plugged in and out of her creamy, pink slit. Michael's thrusts were growing swift and hard. His arms though needed a break. He gently descended his chest onto his mother's. Isabella's big and jiggling boobs smashed against him, the extended nipples sexily grazing him. He nuzzled her right ear. "You liked what you saw before? Me and Luz? You liked seeing your son bang his girlfriend? Turned you on, didn't? Wished it was you. Yes or no? You—getting fucked by your own son. That's why you showed me your tits and nipples, and played with your bare pussy. Isn't it?" he whispered. Isabella was in delirium and screamed her reply with no shame. "Yes! Yes! Seeing you with Luz turned me on! I loved it! I DID wish it was me! Yes to everything!" As soon as the words left her mouth, the overheating mom arched her body up to take in Michael's prick as deep as she could. She wantonly thrusted her delirious pussy up at his hard-hitting dick, grinding her hips, and mashing her engorged clit against his shaft. Her pleasure was immediately doubled. "Yes! Ohhhhhhh!" she moaned, and released more sap. His prick, her inner thighs and ass, and the bed cover were awash in her oils. The slapping sound of flesh against flesh once again filled the Faso house. Her shapely legs were raised high, her ankles bouncing on the young man's shoulders as he was relentless in pounding Isabella's willing, wet cunt. His sweaty meaty balls, also coated with her cunt sauce, banged against her ass like wind chimes in Chicago. "Fuck me, baby! Fuck your mommy! Fuck your mommy with your big, beautiful cock!" she howled. "Mom, you're soooo wet!" Michael huffed. He closed his eyes and slowly spun his head around. "Soooo wet, and so HOT!!" Sweat seemed to fly off mother and son. He insatiably pummeled, and she greedily accepted. She also confidently fucked back. They had briefly returned to kissing, and dueling tongues. Michael and Isabella screwed with hunger and fury. The horny 18 year old dipped his head and caught her shaking left nipple in his mouth. She wailed in delight. "Ahhhh!" His tongue flickered and danced around the rubbery point while his lips sucked it. "Yessss, Michael! Suck on Mommy's titty," she hissed. Suck it!" He briefly paused his oral loving to swoon. "Mmmm, just like when I was a baby." He returned to sucking the overjoyed teat. Isabella laced her legs across her son's back, pulling him in...deeper. "Ohhhhhhh, Mom!" She shivered. She desperately needed to feel every inch of her son's pulsating cock ram into her fiery cunt. Michael took hold of her generous hips and began to drill Isabella with even more force. The faster he fucked, the more aroused she got, and the harder she fucked back. This incestuous pair would put alley cats to shame. The wanton parent soon announced her oncoming climax. "Oh Mikey! I am going to cum! Mikey, you're making Mommy cum. Mikeeyyyy! Bells went off in the high school graduate's head and he started huffing and puffing. "Don't stop, baby! Keep fucking your mommy!! Yessss! Fuck meee!" Michael's shoulders ached but his motions were on autopilot. His hips were a blur as he frantically screwed his convulsing mother. "Oh, I am cumming! Mmm. Oh, Ughhh! You fuck your mommy so DAMN good, Mikey. You're making me cummmm!" Isabella's orgasm ripped through her like lightning. Pearly, thick love cream poured forth from her sultry cunt cavity. Her sexy, MILF body writhed in ecstasy. Her stud son, again holding onto her flaying hips for control, had to increase speed in his fucking just to keep up with her. "I'm cumming! Ohhhh, ahhhh! My boy's making me CUM!" she trumpeted loudly. As her orgasm eventually subsided, Michael's neared. He grunted as he shoved his excited, hard cock in and out of his mother's drooling, fevered pussy. "Ah, oh! Oh! Mom I'm gonna cum!" This was not just a glorious declaration. He was also wondering whether he should pull out or not. He looked down at her with a "what should I do?" look. She immediately picked up on this. "Cum inside me, Mikey. Oh YEAH! Let momma feel your cum. Shoot your load in mommy's pussy!" she lustfully responded. Michael nodded and then scrunched up his face, his mouth shaped in a perfect "O." She smiled and joyously waited for his white, liquidly onslaught. His cock, still pounding the insides of Isabella's cunt, belched out the first salvo of jizz. He tossed his head back and howled. "Arrgghhh!" The studly son was balls-deep in his mother's wanton pussy, and he was ejaculating wildly. He shot stream after stream of hot male ambrosia down the channel that he was born from. The physical release was absolute joy to the 18 year old. "Ahhh! Ah! Ohhh! Ahhhh!" he panted. She wildly cheered him on. "That's it baby! Give it ALL to Momma! Give it to meeeee!" Isabella's sexual spasms had begun to subside as her orgasm cleared. But she started increasing them again as she felt Michael unloading his love into her. She felt an erotic sense of satisfaction, and a twisted sense of pride as her son completed fucking her. She also delighted in the pool of their combined cum and perspiration that soaked their loins and bed cover. Later, the illicit lovers were quiet and basking in the orgasmic afterglow. Michael had rolled off Isabella, lying close to her left side. They kissed, this time slower and more sensuously. The touch of lips to lips was softer. The intermingling tongue play was much lighter. They looked contently upon one another. "Mom, that was incredible!" he complemented. The beautiful brunette smiled and then spread her right leg, bending the knee. Her right hand fell onto her pubic mound. She curved the index and middle fingers and slipped them into her sodden opening. Michael's eyes had followed her hand and widened when he saw the fingers delve in. Isabella scoped out a big glob of cream, a combo of her juices and his spunk, and held it a couple of seconds above her navel to visually entice him. She brought the glob to her open mouth, and wrapped her lips around the coated digits. Looking sideways at her son with dreamy eyes, she slowly sucked her creamy fingers like a Popsicle in August. Michael was entranced, paying attention as her throat made swallowing motions. She gradually withdrew her fingers from her mouth; there was no more cream on them. Isabella's Fella Isabella smiled. "I told you it wouldn't be a problem mixing Luz's juices with mine." They soon fell asleep. He was the first to awake, a little before 10 PM. He sat on the edge of his mother's bed, aglow with intense male conquest and glory. He had had fevered sex with two gorgeous women, separately, in the same day. Michael cast a glance over his left shoulder at the sleeping form of his naked mother lying on her back. The starlet-like beauty of her face, the bountiful breasts now rising and falling with her steady breathing, and the supple thighs were spread in sleep as they were when she was awake. She is smoking hot and an incredible fuck, he surmised. And she's my mom. Michael initially felt a twisted pride, at being able to do what most boys have thought about at least once in their life. That pride was soon being overtaken by guilt. He had sex with his parent, a no-no by society's standards. The transformation to guilt increased as he sat there gazing at the luscious but forbidden shape next to him. His gaze encompassed her from her black hair which was splayed sexily on her pillow to the tips of her red-painted toenails which pointed to the ceiling. The son soon knew there would be no way he could resist his mother. Unless she awoke with a completely changed mind, he would not be able to say no to her attraction for him. She was a five-star cougar, and what normal boy in his late teens could say "no" to the prospect or actuality of getting laid with such a woman. Michael also feared his initiating further sexual acts with Isabella, specifically concerned he would begin to relish in the incestuous aspect of those futuristic encounters. This fear began to take root in his thinking as he didn't feel bad about cheating on Luz. He summarized this was due to his start of liking consensual incest. Michael believed he had to leave. Moving out, perhaps to another state, wouldn't do. He had to really leave. He turned away from his mother and stared ahead at the opposite wall. The 18 year old rubbed his eyes, then ran he fingers through his wavy hair. He pondered. Then he decided: the military. He would join the military, probably the Marines. He raised himself off the bed, and padded to his room. He lay on the bed, waiting for sleep. It would be an almost two hour wait. Isabella slept more because of the joyous pounding she got from Michael. Her eyes flickered open and she glanced at the clock on the night table to her left. 12:47. She then looked and saw the empty space in her bed. The sleepy parent was a little disappointed her forbidden lover wasn't still by her side, but she mostly felt complete sexual satisfaction and a magnificent thrill. After a lengthy physical drought, she got an Oscar-winning fuck by a young stud. The fact that it was her gorgeously built son had her mind and body electrified. She felt no shame what so ever. In fact, she began wondering how she would be able to share him with his girlfriend, Luz. The brunette needed to go to the bathroom. Still naked, she slipped into the hallway. She peered into Michael's room. She smiled with pride at his nude, still shape. He snored ever so slightly. She studied his mouth and wondered how he was at cunnilingus. Her mind created an image of him sitting at the kitchen table eating his Wheaties. She sauntered in wearing her flowing, blue silk robe which was open. She moved like a cat. She picked up his bowl and took his spoon, moving them to the sink, much to her son's surprise. She then returned to the table, promptly sat on it facing her son, and seductively spread open her long sleek legs, and huskily said, "This is the real breakfast of champions." She watched as Michael's face went from surprised at being robbed of his cereal and spoon to having a bugged-out look as he eyes lowered to her naked muff. Its open, pink lips were distended and shiny with oncoming wetness. The black field of pubic hair was short and trimmed. The brewing musk made his nostrils flare. He ended his stare by lowering his head between his mother's thighs, mouth open, with tongue jutting out. "Aahhh," Isabella sighed, tossing her head back and closing her eyes, as Michael's tongue made first contact with her eager labia. Her maxed-out bladder broke the taboo image. She turned out of her son's room. After returning to her room from the bathroom, she set her alarm for work, and went back to bed. She gleefully rustled her back and bum into the mattress, much like a cat does when it is happy. And also like a happy cat, she smiled as if the proverbial canary had been eaten. At work Isabella was walking on air. Nothing bothered her, and everything was right. More than once her vagina tingled with anticipation at another go-round with Michael's manhood. When her boss stated the filings for a client had to be unexpectedly completed that night, she did not do her usual internal pouting at being given a last-minute thing to do. She was too happy to care. She just picked up the phone and called her son. She got the answering machine. "Hi, baby. I just got the Finley account papers thrown in my lap. They have to be completed tonight. I should only be an hour or so late. Sorry, love. Order a pizza if you want. I'll see you when I get home." Then she changed her tone to a husky sound. "Byyyye." The Italian beauty returned home almost at 8, practically skipping through the door. "Mikey," she sang, "I'm home." Once again, her sex tingled. There was no reply, no Mikey, and no sounds. "Mikey, baby. Momma's home," she announced coyly. Still, nothing. It would have been nice if he called and let me know he wasn't going to be home. Isabella's stomach startled to gurgle, signaling hunger. She headed for the kitchen. Maybe he's breaking it off with Luz, she gleefully considered. She turned on the kitchen light. Her eyes immediately saw the piece of paper propped against the fruit bowl in the center of the table. She moved toward it, dropping her purse on the table. She picked up the single sheet. Dear Mom, Yesterday was absolutely incredible. I had never been so turned on in my life when you were watching me and Luz...that is, until you and I had sex. I felt so turned on, hornier, harder—never before like this, literally, in my life. And that's where the problem is. Mom, you are smoking hot—your looks, your body, the way you fuck. I must admit I could never say no to you. I could never resist you. In fact, I would want to make love to you over and over again. But I can let this happen again. I am sorry. It's the incest thing; I fear I would end up enjoying it. I could tell by the way you said "Bye" on your message you're getting into it. I am going to enlist with the Marines. I am truly sorry I am doing this, and doing it this way. Please forgive me. I could never say "I'm leaving" to you in person. I would see your beauty, your sexuality, your motherly love, and never be able to stay away from you. Again, I am very sorry. I am going to Luz's and say "Goodbye" to her too. Honestly, it is far more difficult saying this to you then to her. I love you, Mom. And I am sorry. Love, Michael Isabella, still looking at the piece of paper, crumpled it with both hands. She began sobbing, tears rolling freely down her cheeks dotting the table and note. She went from sobbing to wailing. "Michael!!!!!!!!!!!" Her cries echoed throughout the silent house. Michael's reasoning for his sudden departure to Luz was his patriotism. The Latina was saddened and bewildered by this unexpected turn of events. She also cried, but nowhere near as much or as emotionally as Isabella. So Michael Faso became a US Marine. He eventually spoke with his mother, letting her know he was ok. She seemed relieved to hear from him and was tempted to ask "Why?" but she bit her tongue. Later, when it was determined he was going to Iraq and he relayed this to Isabella, his heart broke when she cried aloud. In Iraq Michael was introduced to combat, up close and personal. He was fired upon, and he fired back. Guys next to him or close by were shot dead. Some were killed by IED's (Improvised Explosive Devices), their body parts strewed across the desert sand. He also saw many of the enemy go down. He endured scorching days that would make downtown Phoenix in August seem like the North Pole. Sometimes during a firefight, and frequently when he was in camp, the image of his beautiful mother crossed his tattered mind. The question, "Why the hell did I leave?" crept into his mind during one night-time battle. The question took root in his subconscious and grew, to the point where he asked it daily to himself. Because she is your mother, and you're not supposed to fuck your mother, was the response. His mind questioned and answered itself constantly, frequently during actual combat. The horrors of war gradually gnawed at the answer of his mental Q&A. It was a slow gnaw. However, Because she is your mother, and you're not supposed to fuck your mother as the sole foundation for him being a Marine fighting in the Middle East, began to crumble. This foundation was weakening more and more with every buddy killed or wounded, every close call, every inferno-like day and, soon, even after enemy kills. The mental foundation also was weakened when, alone at night, Michael's natural male physical tendencies took flight and his penis throbbed. His mind and body yearned for the illicit delight and comfort of his desirable mother. After months of no communication, Michael began writing to Isabella. Strangely, he did not address the letter with "Mom." He used her first name and maiden name. The stateside parent was immensely relived to get the first letter. She didn't even wonder why he wrote her maiden name. She was just grateful he was alive, unharmed, and had reopened the lines of communication with her. Their communication became more frequent over the next year. The young Italian was thrilled to get letters from his mother. He told his friend she was his girlfriend. When he received a requested picture of her—nothing at all sexy—and his mates saw it, there were hoots and howls of "MILF!" Because she is your mother, and you're not supposed to fuck your mother was finally removed from Michael's reasoning as a result of one intense battle. The Marines were taking fire and their lieutenant, a man who Michael had grown to respect, was killed during a charge by insurgents. This along with the way the officer fell—his head literally exploding into shards of bone, blood and grey matter—affected Michael immensely. After he was rescued by Air Calvary, Michael no longer cared that he had fucked his mother. He didn't care that you're not supposed to do this. He just wanted to safely get back home, to her, and screw her and love her. At Camp Pendleton, the time-honor tradition of cheering returning soldiers was in full swing. Men and women in uniform were reunited with spouses, children, and other family members. There were smiles, hugs, kisses, tears, and yells of people's name. Michael watched as many of his comrades were seeing their families and friends for the first time in a very long while. He wore his green fatigues, along with an anticipatory smile. He was scanning the crows for his mother, Isabella. Michael was looking around like a dog tied to a hydrant while the owner is in a store. At first he didn't spot her, then he couldn't help but see the gorgeous, curvaceous figure in the crowd. She had already spotted him and was wading through the people toward him. Her black hair, slightly wavy on the sides of her face and reaching to just past her shoulders, appeared to flow like a horse's mane. Just a touch of make-up adored her face. Fuchsia was the color of her lipstick. She wore a violet, satiny one piece dress which was more like a second skin rather than a garment. The sleeveless top had been created with cleavage in mind. Isabella's large, braless tits moved with little constraint in the flimsy material. Her pink, pebble-like nipples shimmied deliciously back and forth against the inside of the top, adding to the twin peaks' excitement. The mid-thigh length of the skirt offered more than a copious view of her long, shapely legs. Her well-toned thighs and calves were bare—no nylon. Her pretty feet were encased in 4 inch black leather heels. The generous slit in the skirt offered more to see as she walked. She actually sauntered, her heart-shaped ass and flared hips rolling like ocean waves. Their eyes met and their smiles were wide. He moved to her, she to him. They met, he dropping his duffle bag, and wrapping his arms around her. She wrapped her arms around him, and the embrace was fiercely tight at first. Then it loosened, and their lips crushed together. The kiss was one of happiness and hunger. The lips undulated, hers soon parting to allow her tongue to slither into her son's mouth. He immediately responded, sucking on the tip of it, and brushing his invigorated groin and against her lap. Realizing they both needed to keep this greeting at least a PG-13 rating, Isabella withdrew her tongue and restrained herself from pushing up against Michael's growing member. He also lowered the intensity, now allowing the normal emotions of surviving a war to course through his body. The hunger for long-lost illicit sex was transformed into tears. They first started rolling down his face, then hers. "Hi, Isabella," he sniffled. "Hi, my baby," she responded. They kissed again and then broke it off, just to look into each other's eyes. Michael saw several feet behind her his battle mate, O'Grady, standing in shock with bugged-out eyes and his mouth wide-open. He mouthed to Faso, "Isabella?" Michael nodded with a sly grin. To which his friend mouthed, "Wow!" and flashed a thumbs up. The young Marine returned his gaze to his mother's. More tears seemed to be flowing out of her beautiful, dark eyes. "You're home. You're not injured," she cried. "You're home. You're home," she repeated. Her gaze on him became intent. "And you're mine." "Yes—" he wanted to say 'Mom' but didn't want anyone to hear it. "Yes, Isabella. I am home. And I am yours." Mother and son, unbeknownst to anyone at the base, returned to being in each other's arms and kissed. Michael and Isabella made their way to the camp parking lot holding hands. The sexy brunette caused much whiplash amongst the returning and stationed troops. She led him to her rental car, a 2010 royal blue Cadillac DTS. She beeped open the doors and handed her son the keys. Maintaining eye contact with him Isabella, flashing a seductive grin, slid into the front passenger seat. Her skirt pulled up her legs, revealing her smooth thighs. They slowly parted. A pair of white silk panties tightly hugged the pouch of her vagina. She secretly relished how the young vet's Adam's apple bobbed up and down and his eyes seemed to zoom out of the sockets. She closed her legs and the door. Michael opened the drunk, threw his duffle bag in, closed the trunk and practically skipped to the driver's door. The Caddy pealed out and off the military base, and headed for Highway 101. The car was soon parked in a secluded section of land off the highway. Isabella and Michael were locked in an intense and hungry kiss. Their lips were ravenous to each other, pressing hard, sliding, gently pulling. "Mmmm, baby," Isabella cooed. The intensity and hunger increased as Michael, groaned "Oh, Mom," and jabbed his tongue into her eager mouth. Her lips voraciously sucked on the welcomed intruder. When his tongue pulled out, his mother's followed, pressing into his mouth. He sucked on her tongue and heard her moan. The kiss and tongue-twirl went on and on, breaking only once for "I miss you" 's to be exchanged. The illicit couple's hands were also eagerly busy, sliding up and down each other's bodies. Isabella's right hand moved to his crotch and palmed the erection within his fatigue pants. It overjoyously jumped, then throbbed. She rubbed and grasped the cloth-covered protrusion. Michael broke the tonguing to emit a deep and grateful moan. Michael's left hand slide under portion of the dress top which (barely) covered Isabella's breast. He squeezed it. "Ahhhh, Mikey." He cupped the heavy mammary, feeling the fullness and the warmth of her flesh. It felt scintillating. The point of her hardened nipple almost burned his palm through the fabric. Isabella was on her way to nirvana. Her son was home safe, good-looking as ever, and harder than Chinese algebra. Her breast was being treated to a hand that wasn't her own, and her sex lips were getting swollen while her juices started brewing. She moved fast, breaking away from Michael and sent her hands to the back of her dress. The next sound in the car, besides their mutual heavy breathing, was the sound of the zipper being tugged down. The horny parent opened the top of the dress and shrugged it down off her shoulders, revealing to him her buxom breasts in all their naked glory. "Ohh," he uttered, transfixed on his mother's mouthwatering tits which rose and fell with each of her labored breaths. "They missed you," Isabella encouraged. She arched her back, highlighting their fullness and hardened tips. The Marine's head dropped like a stone onto the closest nipple. He sucked in between his lips the large pink aureole, sending a shock of pleasure throughout Isabella. "Oh, yes, my baby boy! Suck my tits!" she moaned. "Suck Mommy's nipples. Love 'em, just like when you were a baby. Love 'em! Suck 'em!" That's exactly what Michael did. He orally adored his mother's rack. He kissed, licked, suckled—with forbidden sexual hunger. He kissed the fronts of both quivering breasts, licked their half-moon contours, and suckled the excited teats. "Michael that feels sooo good!" The stud son slurped away. "Mrrpphh." "Suck momma's tits! Suck momma's tits!" she lustily urged. Michael worshipped from the left to the right, from the right to the left, over and over. He took as much of each of her fleshy orbs into his mouth and sucked it. Isabella's bust felt like it was on fire. The touch of his lips and tongue had her swooning and writhing. Her breathing was asthmatic-like. The lusty Marine added caressing and fondling the breasts, and fingering the nipples to his incestuous repertoire. "Squeeze 'em, Michael! Squeeze 'em. Pinch the nipples. It feels great! Mommy's tits are all yours!" The one-two approach of her son's mouth and hands on her boobs increased Isabella's squirming in the front seat. He pushed his face into the spacious cleavage. He alternated between kissing and lapping it. There was a slight taste of perspiration, and a hint of Calvin Klein's Eternity. Michael gave another round of hefty squeezes to each breast. "Mom, your tits feel so wonderful," he groaned. All this taboo treatment of her mammaries had the brunette's cunt soaring. The labia were engorged, and juice was cascading steadily into her panties. The smell of her sex also increased, wafting throughout the automobile. Its growing pungency hit Michael's nostrils like a two-by-four. He quickly pulled back from her chest. "Let's get out!" he advised, opening his door. Isabella was shocked and disappointed. Her face showed it. She was stunned at his sudden departure first from her chest and then the car. "Michael, what are you doing?" She watched as he ran around the front of the car to her side. He opened her door. "Mom, please get out." She remained seated, with the top of her dress down to the waist and her massive boobs on display in the late afternoon. "Please, Mom," he pleaded again. She sat still, but then relented, slipping out of the car. Michael took her wrist and led her to the back of the car. Her breasts jiggled and her heels clicked along the smooth pavement. It began to dawn on her what he was doing.