I married Mom. My sister married Dad

Mom was a thirty-eight-year-old beauty, the kind of mature woman who still turned heads hard. Classical oval face, arched willow-leaf brows, a straight little nose, and a soft, red mouth. Full, heavy tits that strained against everything she wore, a high, round ass that begged to be grabbed, and long, smooth legs that went on forever. Just walking down the street, Mom caused accidents—guys slamming into poles, drivers rear-ending the car in front of them, head-ons because no one could look away from that body.

For a kid who spent every night buried in incest stories online, Mom was pure poison. Every time she wore a short skirt, that deep crease between her ass cheeks made my cock jump to full hardness. I wanted to throw her down right there, spread those cheeks, and bury myself balls-deep in Mom’s tight little asshole. But I never had the guts. All I could do was jerk off, sometimes with a pair of Mom’s worn panties pressed to my face. I hated how lucky Dad was.

My sister was pretty too, but I didn’t give a shit about her. It was Mom’s ripe, mature body I craved. Even when my sister and I roughhoused or hugged, it never did anything for me.

“Son, come help me.”

I’d just gotten home from school—always first, because Mom was here and my school was closer—when her voice called from the kitchen.

I dropped my bag and walked in. Mom was up on a chair, arms stretched high, trying to reach a lightbulb that was just out of her grasp. Dad had installed the fixture; Mom’s petite frame couldn’t get there.

“Don’t just stand there staring. Come lift me up.” She tried again, rising on her toes.

“Okay.” I stepped in behind her and slid my arms around Mom’s narrow waist. Soft, slim, silky-smooth. God, holding Mom felt so fucking good. My hands almost spanned her completely.

That’s when my sister came home. She saw me helping Mom, stuck her tongue out at me, and tiptoed off to her room. I made a face back. Finally—a chance to touch Mom’s body.

“Son, what the hell are you doing? I said lift me, not feel me up.” Mom glanced back over her shoulder, laughing as she scolded me. My hands had already drifted without thinking—one sliding up toward Mom’s heavy tits, the other cupping and squeezing the firm curve of Mom’s ass.

“Mom… how am I supposed to hold you?” I yanked my hands away fast, face burning. The incest fantasies never left my head, but doing it for real still made me feel filthy.

Mom climbed down. When she bent over to move the chair, that tight skirt stretched across her ass, outlining every line of her panties and the deep split of Mom’s crack. My cock throbbed so hard it hurt.

She set the chair aside. “Come on. Grab my legs and lift me. Just for a second.”

Her voice snapped me out of it. I walked over with my stiff cock tenting my pants, crouched, and locked my arms around Mom’s thighs, hoisting her up.

Mom’s long, smooth legs filled my arms. It wasn’t exactly the scene from my jerk-off fantasies, but it was close enough to make my blood pound. Then Mom shifted, and her soft, full ass pressed right against my face—cotton-soft, silky-smooth, carrying the warm scent of Mom’s skin. I almost came on the spot. I never wanted to let go.

“Okay, you can put me down now.” Mom finished with the bulb and patted my head, pulling me out of the haze.

“Yeah…” Mom wasn’t heavy, but after nearly ten minutes my arms were numb. The filthy thoughts didn’t help. My grip slipped.

“Ah—!” Mom slid straight down my body.

“What are you doing? You just let go!”

Mom’s feet tingled; she kept shifting her weight, rolling her ankles. Then she finally noticed the hard length of my cock pressing against her.

“Mom… you’re so fucking beautiful.” The second I released her I had my hands on her again—sliding up the outside of Mom’s thighs, over her waist, until both palms were full of Mom’s soft, heavy tits. My rock-hard cock jammed tight against the high curve of Mom’s ass.

“You… what are you doing? Let go of me!” Mom’s voice cracked. She was terrified of the rough way I was mauling her breasts and the way my cock kept grinding and thrusting against her ass.

“It hurts, Mom. I can’t take it anymore.” I locked my arms around her from behind, cock rubbing hard and frantic against Mom’s soft cheeks. All I could think about was dumping every ounce of the filthy need I’d been holding back.

“Son, stop it! Let Mom go—right now!” Mom struggled, but I was stronger, younger, and so fucking hard I couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t break free.

I kept grinding, thrusting, dry-fucking Mom’s perfect ass, pouring