"Mom, I can’t—" he gasped, his voice breaking as her fingers traced the sensitive vein running along the length of his arousal. "Shhh," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear as she leaned closer, her lips brushing his skin. "You can. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? All those times you couldn’t take your eyes off me…" His heart pounded in his chest, the sound drowning out his thoughts. He’d tried to resist, tried to bury the feelings that had been growing inside him for years. But here, in the dim light of her bedroom, he felt the last shred of his resolve crumble. Her hand wrapped around him, firm and knowing, and he let out a strangled moan. "Mom—" "Don’t call me that," she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. "Not now. Not when I’m about to take you to places you’ve only dreamed of." ---It had started innocently enough—or as innocent as something like this could be. He’d always been close to his mother. She was his confidante, his rock, the one person he could always turn to. But as he’d grown older, he’d started to notice things about her—the way her laugh lit up a room, the way her curves filled out her clothes. She was beautiful, and he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her in ways that made him sick with guilt. He’d try to ignore it, try to push those thoughts away, but they kept creeping back. And then, one night, everything changed. They’d been watching a movie together, sitting side by side on the couch. He’d glanced over at her, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, he’d reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She’d looked at him then, her eyes wide with surprise—and something else. Something that made his pulse quicken. "Mom," he’d started, his voice trembling. She’d put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Don’t," she’d said softly. "Don’t say anything." And then she’d kissed him. It was soft at first, tentative, as if she was testing the waters. But when he’d kissed her back, she’d deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against his. He’d felt like he was drowning, like the world was spinning out of control. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was the feel of her lips on his, the warmth of her body pressed against him. When they’d finally pulled away, she’d looked at him with a hunger that made his stomach twist. "Do you want this?" she’d asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He’d nodded, unable to speak. She’d smiled then, a slow, seductive smile that sent a shiver down his spine. "Good. Let’s take this to my room." ---And now, here they were. She was in control, her dominance both terrifying and intoxicating. She’d stripped him down to his boxers, her fingers trailing over his skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her own clothes had come off with agonizing slowness, every movement calculated to drive him wild. And it was working. He’d never seen her like this—her hair cascading over her shoulders, her body bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the window. She was breathtaking, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She pushed him down onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. His breath caught in his throat as she climbed on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips. Her hands roamed over his chest, her nails lightly scratching his skin. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "How long I’ve waited to feel you like this." He swallowed hard, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him. "Mom—" She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "I told you. Don’t call me that." "Then what should I call you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper

"Mom, I can’t—" he gasped, his voice breaking as her fingers traced the sensitive vein running along the length of his arousal. 

"Shhh," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear as she leaned closer, her lips brushing his skin. "You can. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? *All those times you couldn’t take your eyes off me…*" 

His heart pounded in his chest, the sound drowning out his thoughts. He’d tried to resist, tried to bury the feelings that had been growing inside him for years. But here, in the dim light of her bedroom, he felt the last shred of his resolve crumble. 

Her hand wrapped around him, firm and knowing, and he let out a strangled moan. "Mom—" 

"Don’t call me that," she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. "Not now. Not when I’m about to take you to places you’ve only dreamed of." 

---

It had started innocently enough—or as innocent as something like this could be. 

He’d always been close to his mother. She was his confidante, his rock, the one person he could always turn to. But as he’d grown older, he’d started to notice things about her—the way her laugh lit up a room, the way her curves filled out her clothes. She was beautiful, and he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her in ways that made him sick with guilt. 

He’d try to ignore it, try to push those thoughts away, but they kept creeping back. And then, one night, everything changed. 

They’d been watching a movie together, sitting side by side on the couch. He’d glanced over at her, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, he’d reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She’d looked at him then, her eyes wide with surprise—and something else. Something that made his pulse quicken. 

"Mom," he’d started, his voice trembling. 

She’d put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Don’t," she’d said softly. "Don’t say anything." 

And then she’d kissed him. 

It was soft at first, tentative, as if she was testing the waters. But when he’d kissed her back, she’d deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against his. He’d felt like he was drowning, like the world was spinning out of control. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was the feel of her lips on his, the warmth of her body pressed against him. 

When they’d finally pulled away, she’d looked at him with a hunger that made his stomach twist. "Do you want this?" she’d asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He’d nodded, unable to speak. 

She’d smiled then, a slow, seductive smile that sent a shiver down his spine. "Good. Let’s take this to my room." 

---

And now, here they were. 

She was in control, her dominance both terrifying and intoxicating. She’d stripped him down to his boxers, her fingers trailing over his skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her own clothes had come off with agonizing slowness, every movement calculated to drive him wild. 

And it was working. 

He’d never seen her like this—her hair cascading over her shoulders, her body bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the window. She was breathtaking, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

She pushed him down onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. His breath caught in his throat as she climbed on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips. Her hands roamed over his chest, her nails lightly scratching his skin. 

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "How long I’ve waited to feel you like this." 

He swallowed hard, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him. "Mom—" 

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "I told you. Don’t call me that." 

"Then what should I call you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper

A forbidden love between a mother and son unfolds as they secretly indulge in their taboo desires, taking turns dominating each other in a world of incestuous pleasures. The mother teases and pleasures her son with her mouth, while he worships her with his tongue, and they explore each other's bodies with excitement and lust.

Forbidden Fantasies: A Mother-Son Taboo Love Story

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