In a costume

I've been craving my mom and now it's time I sate my hunger...

Mom’s ass was a fucking masterpiece, round and perfect, hugged so tight by those yoga pants I could see the outline of her thong. Marla, my mother, moved through the kitchen like she didn’t know I was staring, her crop top barely holding in her tits, those full, heavy curves bouncing with every step. I was eighteen, and I’d spent years telling myself it was wrong to look at her like this, to feel my cock harden when she bent over, her hips swaying like a tease. But fuck, she made it impossible. Her auburn hair fell in waves over her shoulders, her green eyes sparkled with that teasing warmth, and at forty-two, she looked like a goddess, toned from yoga, her body screaming to be touched.

I used to hate myself for it, the way my dick twitched every time she walked by in those skimpy outfits. Shorts that rode up her thighs, tank tops that showed off her cleavage, nipples poking through when the AC kicked on. But the guilt was gone now, burned away by the fire in my balls. I’d jerk off every night, my hand flying over my cock, her face filling my mind—her lips, her ass, the way she’d laugh and call me her “sweet boy.” I tried to think of other girls, porn stars, anyone, but it was always Marla. I’d cum so hard my vision blurred, imagining her moaning my name, her pussy wrapped around me.

I started testing her, seeing how far I could go. Compliments first, small ones. “You look hot today, Mom,” I’d say, keeping it light, casual. She’d giggle, her cheeks flushing, and brush it off. “Oh, Theo, you’re sweet.” She had no idea what those words did to me, how they made my cock throb. I got bolder, dropping compliments every day—her legs, her smile, the way her ass filled out those jeans. She never pushed back, just smiled, like it was normal for her son to worship her body.

Then I started touching her. Innocent at first—a hand on her shoulder in the hall, a hug that let me feel her tits press against my chest. I’d “accidentally” bump into her in the kitchen, my hip grazing her ass, my fingers brushing her thigh as I reached for something. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. She’d laugh, ruffle my hair, call me affectionate. Fuck, that drove me insane. Every touch was a spark, building the fire inside me, the need to claim her consuming my every thought.

Halloween was my chance. The neighbors were throwing a costume party, and Mom was buzzing about it all week, trying on outfits that got sluttier each time. She settled on a witch costume—black lace dress, tight as fuck, plunging neckline showing off her tits, a slit up the thigh flashing her legs. I jerked off three times that morning, picturing her in it, my cum splattering the shower wall as I groaned her name. Dad was the problem, always there, clueless to the way I burned for her. But I had a plan. He was a lightweight, always out cold after a drink or two. I poured him a whiskey, slipped in something I got from a friend—nothing dangerous, just enough to knock him out for the night. He was snoring on the couch in an hour, dead to the world.

I slipped into his costume—a cheesy vampire getup, cape, mask, the works. The mask covered most of my face, perfect for hiding who I was. When I walked downstairs, Mom was sipping wine, her eyes glassy, her witch hat tilted. “Theo, you’re such a good son, staying home,” she slurred, adjusting her dress, her tits practically spilling out. “Your dad and I won’t be late.” She thought I was staying behind. Fucking perfect.

“Nah, I’m coming with you,” I said, pitching my voice low, mimicking Dad’s gruff tone. The mask hid my smirk as I offered her my arm. She giggled, leaning into me, her curves soft and warm, her tits brushing my arm. I had to clench my jaw to keep from groaning. She smelled like vanilla and sin, and my cock was already straining against the costume pants.

The party was a haze of lights, music, and bodies grinding together. Mom was tipsy, laughing too loud, her hips swaying as she danced with me—or who she thought was Dad. I played the part, keeping my voice low, my hands bold. I’d smack her ass when she turned, quick and playful, and she’d squeal, swatting at me with a grin. “You’re naughty tonight,” she slurred, pressing closer, her body hot against mine. I could feel her nipples through the lace, hard and begging for my mouth. My cock was so hard it hurt, and I didn’t care if she noticed.

We stumbled home, her barely able to walk in those heels, me half-carrying her, my arm around her waist, her curves pressed against me. My heart pounded, my dick throbbing with every step. I dragged her into her bedroom, the one she shared with Dad, and laid her face-down on the bed. She mumbled something, giggling into the pillow, her ass sticking up in that tight dress. I couldn’t stop staring—round, perfect, the lace stretched so thin I could see the shadow of her pussy.

I didn’t take off the costume. The mask, the cape, the gloves—it made it dirtier, like I was someone else, but I knew it was me, Theo, about to fuck my own mom. I peeled the dress off her, slow, savoring every inch of skin. Her thong was black, barely there, and I yanked it down, exposing her ass and the pink, glistening lips of her pussy. Fuck, she was perfect. I licked my lips, my mouth watering, and leaned in, burying my face between her thighs.

Her pussy tasted like heaven, sweet and musky, her lips soft against my tongue. I sucked on them, lapping up her juices, my nose pressed against her tight asshole. She moaned, drunk and sloppy, pushing her ass back against my face. “Mmm, baby,” she slurred, thinking I was Dad. “Keep going.” I groaned into her, my tongue flicking over her clit, then up to her asshole, circling it, tasting the forbidden heat. She shivered, her moans louder, and I kept going, sucking and licking until her pussy clenched, her body shaking as she came, her juices flooding my mouth.

My cock was throbbing, leaking pre-cum, and I couldn’t wait anymore. I fumbled with the costume pants, pulling it out—thick, hard, the head swollen and slick. I positioned myself behind her, my hands gripping her hips, and pressed against her pussy. She was tight, so fucking tight, resisting at first. I pushed harder, forcing my way in, drooling as I bottomed out, my balls pressed against her, her pussy gripping me like a vice.

“Fuck,” I groaned, my voice muffled by the mask. I propped myself up, my hands on either side of her, and started fucking her, hard and fast, my hips slamming against her ass. The bed creaked, her moans filling the room, raw and desperate. “Yes, baby, deeper,” she gasped, her voice thick with lust, her hips rocking back to meet my thrusts. She thought it was Dad, but it was me, her son, pounding her pussy, my cock stretching her, filling her.

I fucked her like a beast, my hands gripping her ass, spreading her cheeks so I could watch my cock slide in and out, slick with her juices. I shifted, pulling her up onto her knees, my arm around her waist as I slammed into her from behind, my balls slapping her clit. She screamed, her pussy clenching, and I felt her cum again, her body trembling, her moans turning to whimpers. I didn’t stop, flipping her onto her back, spreading her legs wide, and plunging back in.

Her tits bounced with every thrust, her nipples hard and begging to be sucked. I leaned down, still masked, and took one in my mouth, biting just hard enough to make her cry out. “Oh, fuck, yes,” she moaned, her hands tangling in the cape, pulling me closer. I fucked her harder, switching positions—lifting her legs over my shoulders, then flipping her onto her side, my cock never leaving her pussy. I wanted to ruin her, to make her feel every inch of me, to claim her in ways Dad never could.

I lost track of time, lost in the heat of her, the way her pussy gripped me, the way her ass jiggled when I smacked it. I fucked her until my balls ached, until I couldn’t hold back. “Gonna cum,” I grunted, my voice low, and she moaned, “Do it, baby, fill me up.” I did, my cock pulsing as I shot deep inside her, thick ropes of cum flooding her pussy, dripping out around my shaft as I kept thrusting, milking every drop.

She collapsed, panting, her body slick with sweat, her pussy still twitching around me. I stayed inside her, my cock softening, my heart racing. She thought it was Dad, but it was me—Theo, her son, her lover. I’d had her, and I’d have her again. The costume stayed on, my secret safe, but I knew this was just the start. I’d make her mine, over and over, until she screamed my name.