Skip to content There’s only so many ways a person can talk about a woman’s ass before you start to sound unhinged. And I guess if I’m being honest, that word fits, because for as long as I could remember, my mother’s ass had defined the boundaries of my obsession, my curiosity and my entire adolescence. I could trace my sexual awakening to a single memory: playing video games in the den, and seeing her walk past in a pair of black yoga pants so tight you could see every last bump and curve. At the time, I didn’t know what it meant; I just knew I wanted to look, and that not looking was impossible.
It never got better. It only got worse. My mother Vanessa, and her incredible, planet-sized, perfect ass was impossible to ignore.
I tried, I really tried, to be normal about it. It’s not like she dressed trashy or went out of her way to tease me. She just existed, and that was enough. Forty-two years old and easily the hottest woman in any room she entered, including the college classrooms where she’d just started teaching community classes. Full natural triple Ds, hair so dark it was almost blue in the sunlight, lips thick and suckable, and eyes that could burn right through your soul if you caught her in the wrong mood. But none of that compared to the way she filled a pair of jeans, or the hourglass shape she carved out of her business casual, or the smooth, cartoon-round perfection of her ass when she walked through the living room on her way to do laundry, fold towels or fix dinner.
I was nineteen, and last year I started jerking off to the thought of her. I never used porn when she was around, didn’t need it. There was always some new image, a tight gray skirt, her favorite blue leggings, the white sundress she wore in summer, that was better than anything online. I couldn’t look away. And eventually, I stopped trying to hide it, at least from myself. At home for the summer, with no job and no social life, the game became how much I could see before she noticed.
The answer: a lot.
*****
“Jesus Christ, Alex,” my mother said, rolling her eyes as she bent over the dishwasher. “Are you going to help or just stand there?”
It was ten in the morning and she was still in her workout clothes: hot pink sports bra and black leggings that looked like they’d been painted on wet. The whole back of her, from shoulders to calves, glistened with sweat from her run. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her neck partly bare, and the line where her lower back met her ass was so defined I was certain she’d drawn it on with a ruler.
I set down my phone and opened the cabinet above her head, pretending to rummage for something, but really just getting a better view of her bent over, her hips flexing as she reached for a dropped fork. She looked back, caught my eyes, and held them for a second longer than usual. I must have looked like a deer in headlights.
“If you’re hungry, I’ll make you eggs. Go sit down.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks,” I stammered, my shorts tented, and I could feel my face burning. I dropped into the kitchen chair and tried to calm down.
She pulled out a carton of eggs and set it on the counter, then rummaged through the fridge, still bent, still showing off. She must have known. There’s no way she didn’t know. The urge to stare was overwhelming. I justified it by telling myself this was the last summer before I went off to university. The last time I’d get to see her like this, unfiltered, every day.
Then eggs sizzled in the pan. My mother hummed some pop song, swaying her hips a little as she cooked, which did nothing to help me. I found myself comparing the bounce of her ass to a Newton’s cradle. My thoughts were so far off the rails I didn’t notice her set the plate in front of me. That was quick, or had I lost myself in the sight of her gorgeous full moon like usual?
“Eat up,” she said, watching as I looked up at her. Her boobs were almost falling out of her top. She didn’t break eye contact. “You’re growing. Or at least, something is.”
My fork clattered onto the floor.
She laughed. “Pick it up, dork.”
I bent to retrieve the fork and, when I came up, she was still standing there, hands on her hips. She gave me a half smile.
I couldn’t eat. Not with her watching me. My body was in fight or flight. I pretended to check my phone, but then eventually, I managed to eat. We talked about various topics, but then I excused myself. “I have to take a shower.”
“Sure thing, honey.”
She waited for me to stand. Then, as I squeezed past her in the narrow galley kitchen, she turned slightly, so that her hips grazed my arm.
“Careful,” she said. “You almost knocked me over.”
My eyes dropped automatically, following the curve of her side down to the unmistakable outline of her ass. The leggings were so thin I could see the faint line of her panties. I stared … I stared way too long.
“Alex?”
I jerked my gaze up. She was still looking at me. This time, I knew she’d caught me. The silence was immense.
Her smile faded. “Go shower.”
I nodded, ran upstairs, and jerked off in the shower so hard I almost slipped and broke my neck.
*****
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed and replayed the scene, over and over. The way she’d looked at me, like she’d figured me out and didn’t even care. Like maybe she liked it. My body felt too small for my skin. My erection wouldn’t go away. Around eleven pm., I gave up and padded downstairs for some water.
The kitchen was dark, but the light over the sink was on. Mom was there, leaning against the counter, scrolling through her phone. She’d changed into a loose, long T-shirt, but even that did nothing to hide her shape.
I froze, halfway to the fridge. She looked up.
“Can’t sleep?” she said.
“Yeah, sorry.”
She didn’t move. I stood there, water forgotten, just looking at her. The silence between us thickened. Then she set her phone down. “You want to talk?” she asked. “You’ve been weird all day.”
I laughed nervously. “I’m not weird.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Alex. I’m your mother. I know what ‘not weird’ looks like on you.”
I shrugged, helpless. “I’m just tired.”
She sighed. “Sit.”
I sat at the kitchen table, the same place I’d been that morning. This time, she sat too, across from me, elbows on the table, chin in her hands.
“You’re not a kid anymore,” she said. “You can talk to me.”
I looked away. “It’s nothing. I’m just… I don’t know.”
She waited, patient. I could feel her gaze on my face, my hands, my posture.
“You’ve been staring at me,” she said. No judgement, just the truth. “A lot.”
I swallowed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Her voice was soft but firm. “I’m not mad. I just want to know what’s going on.”
I looked up. She wasn’t angry. She was maybe… curious? Amused? A little sad? I couldn’t tell.
“I can’t help it,” I admitted. “You’re… I mean, you look good. For your age. For any age. I didn’t want to be a creep.”
She laughed, surprised, but didn’t look away. “Is that it? I embarrass you because I look good?”
“No, it’s—” I wanted to stop, but the words tumbled out, as if all the nights of jerking off and the days of pretending were building up to this one moment. “It’s your ass, okay? It’s… really hard not to look.”
She blinked, as if she hadn’t expected me to say it out loud. A flush crept up her neck, but she didn’t cover herself or shift in her seat.
“My ass?” she repeated, a little breathless.
“It’s insane,” I said, voice cracking. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
For a second, she said nothing. Then she looked down, like she was considering something private. When she looked back up, she reached across the table, placed her hand on mine.
“I always knew you’d notice eventually,” she said. “You’re a man now. It’s not… unnatural.”
“You’re not freaked out?”
“I’m flattered.” She squeezed my hand, then let go. “You know, when I was your age, my mother caught me sneaking looks at my uncle’s abs every time he visited. It’s a thing. It happens.”
I exhaled, tension pouring out of me. “So we’re cool?”
“We’re cool.” She stood, stretching. The T-shirt pulled up, exposing her lower back. She caught me looking again, and smiled. “But if you want to keep looking, maybe you should just ask. It’s less creepy.”
“Can I look?” I asked.
She nodded. “Just once. Get it out of your system.”
She turned around, slowly, and pulled her T-shirt up over her hips. She was wearing a thong: lace, black, nothing left to the imagination. She arched her back and looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.
“Well?”
It was everything I’d imagined, and a thousand times better. Her cheeks were full, high and impossibly smooth. The thong disappeared between them, splitting her down the center. Her skin glowed in the kitchen light. I couldn’t breathe.
“Go on,” she said, voice husky. “Touch it.”
I got up, shaking, and ran my palm over her left cheek. The flesh gave under my hand, impossibly soft and warm. My cock throbbed, straining against my shorts.
She didn’t flinch. She pressed back against my hand, encouraging. “Harder.”
I squeezed, both hands now, kneading her ass. The muscles underneath flexed then relaxed. I slid my hands lower, down her thighs, then back up, thumbs almost meeting at the cleft between her cheeks. I wanted to bury my face there, to taste her.
She pushed back, grinding her ass against my crotch. “You like that?”
“Yes.”
She looked over her shoulder, eyes burning. “Show me how much.”
I took her cue and dropped to my knees. Her ass was eye-level, spread perfectly for me. I pressed my lips to her right cheek, kissing softly, then opened my mouth and bit down, just a little. She gasped.
“Lick it,” she said.
I did. I ran my tongue along the crease, all the way from her thigh to the waistband of the thong. She shivered. I pulled the thong aside, exposing her completely.
The smell was intoxicating: clean, feminine, with a hint of sweat. I dove in, licking her from the bottom up, circling her asshole with my tongue.
“Oh, fuck,” she whispered. “God, you really want this, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer, just kept licking, tasting her. She gripped the counter and pushed back, grinding her ass into my face.
After a minute, she pulled away, breathing hard. She turned around and looked down at me, lips parted.
“If I let you do this,” she said, “we can’t ever talk about it again. It’s a one-time thing.”
I nodded.
“Come, let’s go to my bedroom.”
She led me upstairs, to her bedroom. The bed was made, covers turned down. She turned to face me and pulled her T-shirt over her head, and let her heavy, natural triple-D breasts spill free. They were perfect: full, slightly teardrop-shaped, with large, peachy nipples already stiff. They swayed heavily like two bells as she moved, the soft weight and shapes of them mesmerizing. I reached out instinctively, cupping one in each hand, feeling their warmth and softness. She let out a low moan as I squeezed gently, thumbs brushing her nipples.
“Let me see your cock, honey.” She freed my cock, already leaking, and stroked it with both hands, marveling.
“So big,” she murmured. “No wonder you stare at me all day. You’re just like your dad.”
I moaned, unable to form words.
She slicked my cock with lube, then coated two fingers and reached behind her, massaging her asshole. She eased the first finger in, shuddered, then added a second.
“May I?”
She grinned at my excitement. Hopping onto bed, she crawled onto the mattress on all fours, arching her back and presenting that legendary ass to me. I grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand, squirted a generous amount onto my fingers, and worked it into her tight hole. I took my time, sliding one finger, then two, scissoring gently while she moaned and pushed back.
“Ready?” I asked.
She nodded, reaching back to spread her cheeks. “Go slow at first.”
I pressed the head of my cock against her slick, lubed rosebud. The ring resisted for a second, then yielded. The first inch slid in, hot and tight. The feeling was overwhelming. I groaned, fighting the urge to thrust deep immediately.
“Fuck… so tight.”
“Deeper,” she gasped. “Give me more.”
I pushed forward, watching inch after inch disappear between her perfect cheeks. Her ass swallowed me slowly, the stretch visible as her hole widened around my thickness. When my hips finally pressed against her soft, round globes, I was buried to the hilt. The heat, the pressure and the way her walls rippled around me … it was better than any fantasy.
I started fucking, slow, deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. Each thrust made her ass jiggle beautifully. The lube made everything wet and filthy, the sounds obscene. I gripped her hips, pulling her back onto me, going deeper with every stroke.
“God, Mom… your ass feels incredible.”
She moaned louder, pushing back to meet me. “Harder, baby. Fuck Mommy’s ass deeper.”
I lost control. I started pounding her, hips slapping against her cheeks, driving my cock as deep as it would go. The sensation was mind-blowing, her tight ring gripping the base of my shaft while her warm, silky insides massaged the head. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through me. Her big ass rippled and bounced with every impact, the sight almost as good as the feeling.
She reached under herself, rubbing her clit furiously. “I’m so full… you’re so deep inside my ass. Don’t stop!”
The pressure built fast, my balls tightening. “I’m gonna cum so hard!”
“Mommy’s waiting!” she said playfully.
That pushed me over. I slammed into her as deep as I could and came hard. My cock pulsed violently, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside her ass. I kept thrusting through the orgasm, grinding against her, pumping every drop into her tight hole. The feeling of cumming raw in her ass was overwhelming and intensely intimate. I could feel my cum filling her, some of it leaking out around my shaft as I kept moving.
She moaned loudly, her own orgasm hitting as she felt me unloading inside her. Her ass clenched around my cock, milking every last spurt. She rubbed her clit furiously, body shaking as she came with me buried to the hilt in her backdoor.
We stayed locked together, both panting. I could feel my cum leaking out around my softening cock. When I finally pulled out, a thick white trickle oozed from her stretched, gaping hole, dripping down her thigh. She reached back, spread her cheeks, and let me get a perfect close-up of my cum leaking from her well-fucked ass.
“Fuck… that was intense,” she whispered, collapsing onto the bed with a satisfied laugh. She looked back at me, flushed and glowing. “You really filled me up, baby.”
I stared at her, still dazed, my cock twitching at the sight. “Gosh, that was insanely hot.”
She wiped herself with the sheets, and looked at me. “One time only,” she said. “That was the deal.”
I sighed. “Really?”
She giggled. “I’m just teasing you … we can do it as many times as you want.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
She smiled, kissed me on the forehead, and curled up next to me.
I drifted off, wondering how long I’d last before I begged her for more.
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