Chapter 3: Pleasure
The kitchen, that sanctum of household bliss, was now a hotbed of illicit desire. The sun had darkened to orange, shining down upon their embracing figures in a blaze of golden light.
"We have to go to my room," Ethan implored, his voice tense, "Before someone comes home."
Mrs. Willow nodded, her thoughts in a tangled mess. She knew that it was wrong, but she could not stop herself anymore. She wanted him, yearned for him, and the potential of making love to her son sent shivers down her spine and thrilled her at the same time.
They staggered out of the kitchen, hands never once parting from each other's body. Down the hallway, she leaned against the wall, gasping. He kissed the back of her neck, his teeth against her skin, a line of fire burning where they had been.
"Mm," she moaned, her hand reaching down toward his zipper.
"Yes," he hissed, "Take it out."
Mrs. Willow did as he asked, her hand shaking as she pulled his cock free. It was thick and hot, pulsing in her hand. She moistened her lips, her eyes not leaving his face as she began to stroke him.
Ethan groaned, his hips pushing against into her touch. "Fuck, Mom," he gasped, "You make me feel so good."
Her cheeks flushed at the coarseness, but it only made her more aroused. She'd never been spoken to like this before, never felt anything remotely like being this desired. It was like a switch had been flipped, and she was a completely different person.
"Let's go," he said, taking her hand and pulling her up the stairs.
Their footsteps were silent on the carpeted floor, their hearts beating a rhythm of lust. When they reached his room, he shut the door, his hands returning to her body immediately. He pulled over her shirt, revealing her big, round tits, the nipples erect and begging for attention.