April's Fool

It's such a beautiful day but I'm far too nervous to appreciate it. No, my mind is on other things. I drop my phone back into my pocket and pull out my keys. My stomach drops for a second but then I spot it, tucked under my dorm room key and the car key — my old house key.

Opening the door to my childhood home still feels exactly the same and I draw in a deep breath. Someone is cooking vegetables but just underneath that is the welcoming scent of safety and love. I take off my shoes and shut the door a little more forcefully than strictly necessary.

"Brian?" Mom calls out my dad's name from the kitchen.

The kitchen is the central hub of the downstairs, connected right to the entrance hallway. As I enter, the aroma of chicken adds to the mix. My mouth waters but I'm not hungry. Not for food, anyway.

There she is, beautiful as ever. April, my mom. Thirty-eight — no, thirty-nine as of today, and, by my estimate at least, in the prime of her life. She has a warm, round face, and blue eyes. Her normally straight, dirty-blonde hair is messy, as if she just got out of bed. She's wearing her favorite dress, a dizzyingly colorful floral print fabric with a lot of greens and purples.

The dress hangs loosely on her body as if she stood there completely naked and it just happened to fall on top of her. Her wonderful breasts — big and round — hang free and unencumbered by fabric. No bra? Just my luck. The kitchen is quite warm and beads of sweat have formed on her bosom.

Do I also need to mention that it is my favorite dress? Mom looks terrific, like Venus herself on a lazy Saturday morning. Spatula in one hand, she stands at the kitchen island making what looks like fried rice with chicken.

As soon as she sees me, Mom startles and her eyes go wide. She tugs at the strap of her dress, carefully rearranging it to not expose quite as much.

"Myles!" she gasps. "What are you doing here?"

"What? I can't wish my own mother a happy birthday?" I say, smile, and approach her.

"Of course you can," she says.

I open my arms for a hug and she puts down the spatula before turning toward me. Her lips are pressed together and she looks flustered but she musters a smile for me.

The hug is wonderful. I can smell sweat and something else. An earthy, musky odor. Being nearly a foot taller than her, her breasts press into my abdomen and I pull her closer.

"Happy birthday, Mom," I whisper.

"Thank you," she says.

Eager to pull away again, I let her disengage. She tugs consciously at her dress again, which is very unlike her. Normally she's the picture of confidence.

"Sorry about the mess, I didn't really expect anyone to visit," she apologizes.

"Oh, my bad," I say. "I guess I should have called or something."

I move around the kitchen island, standing on the other side of the range, and pinch a piece of chicken from the pan. Very spicy, Mom likes her heat. I lean against the counter and put my hand in my pocket.

"No, no, don't apologize. You're always welcome, it's just been a weird—" Suddenly Mom jerks upright and her eyes go wide again. "—day," she finishes with a squeak.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Mom says and nods. "Are you hungry? Why don't you set the table, I'm almost done."

"Sure."

The plates are still in the same drawer as ever. I grab two, more out of politeness than a desire to eat, and open the silverware drawer. Glancing sideways, I can see Mom stirring the pan with one hand and tightly gripping the edge of the counter with her other. Her knuckles have turned white.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" I ask again.

"Yup," Mom manages to squeeze out but it sounds almost like a cry of pain.

I set the table for two and when I turn around, Mom seems to have recovered. She's taking deep but steady, relaxed breaths. She runs her left hand through her hair and wipes away a few drops of sweat.

"No cake this year?" I ask.

"I was gonna buy one this morning but... I forgot," she says as if she just realized it for the first time.

"Hey, it's your birthday, you can spend it however you want," I chuckle and return to my position at the kitchen island. "Speaking of, what are your plans for the day? I thought that since I can't be here for the party on the weekend, I could at least hang out with you today."

Mom's head snaps up and she looks at me with narrowed eyes, trying to search my face. She's been distracted so far but finally, she picks up a scent of something suspicious. She hasn't completely forgotten what day it is.

"Why? What do you have planned?" she asks.

It's something of a family tradition. You see, Mom was born on April Fools, and to make matters worse, her parents thought it was the funniest thing in the world to name her April. She had no choice, her lot in life was to either accept that or fight a constant battle. She chose to accept her fate to the delight of my grandparents, who taught her all the tricks of the trade. She passed that gene down to me and, even though I was born in August, our birthdays have become prank days.

Over the years, we have come up with two rules to make sure our pranks never go too far. One, nothing cruel, and nobody gets hurt. Two, if the pranked person doesn't end up laughing, it wasn't a good prank and you owe them a big favor. No destruction of property and if you make a big mess, you clean it up afterward.

"Planned? For what?" I feign innocence.

"You know what," she says and puts her hands on her hips in a menacing manner.

"Now that you're forty years old—"

"Thirty-nine!"

"—maybe we're getting too old for this kind of stuff."

Mom's upper lip twitches.

"It's okay, bring your best shot. I'm ready."

"I don't know. Maybe today isn't the right day, you look a little sick. Are you coming down with something? Maybe it's better if I go."

I put my hand in my pocket and turn as if to leave.

"I'm not sick, I'm—ohhhhh," she moans.

Mom stands up stiffly and her eyes go out of focus for a second. She swallows but doesn't move.

"Really, Mom, are you okay?" I ask and approach her.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she squeaks in an oddly high-pitched tone of voice.

"Are you sure?" I ask and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Y-yeah," she stammers. "I'm fine!"

Mom tries to take a step forward but loses balance. She clutches at the nearest thing for support, which happens to be my forearm. She's as light as a feather and I pull her closer, wrapping my other arm around her.

"Not now," she whispers. "Please, not now."

"Not now what?"

"Noth—ohhhhh," she moans and tries to push me away.

Taking a stumbling step toward the counter, she turns off the heat and then braces herself. Her head falls forward and her hair follows suit. She's clenching her legs together but it seems the worst has already passed.

"I'm okay," she says quickly. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure about that?" I ask and reach into my pocket.

I should confess that I haven't been entirely straightforward so far. I know exactly what's wrong with Mom.

You see, this morning when she woke up and Dad already left for the office, she got out of bed, yawned, and saw a package lying at the foot of her bed. Curious, she opened it and once she saw what was inside, her jaw dropped.

Dad isn't too keen on being involved in pranks. Not recently, at least. There was a time when we were all as tight-knit as could be but that time has passed and my parents have been distant for some time. I think they stay together out of habit more than love.

So when she saw the note, written in handwriting that looked just like the writing in all those love letters he had written her when they were young, she felt a spark of excitement inside her. "I dare you to wear this for the rest of the day and let a stranger's touch give you everything that your husband doesn't."

Underneath the note was what looked like a pair of panties at first — black and a modest cut. It was heavier than it should have been, though, and when she pulled out she saw that on the inside were two attachments. A five-inch long, three-inch diameter prod for the front, and a little bit smaller one for the back.

I had no idea if she decided to actually wear it until I saw her in the kitchen and I knew that she'd been wearing it non-stop. It was not, as implied, from Dad at all, nor was it a simple dildo. It's the latest in teledildonics, a remote-controlled pair of panties. I've been turning it on and off randomly all morning, picking up the intensity as the day went on.

I know, you must be thinking that it's a really sick weird and sick prank to play on your own mother and you'd be wrong. It's not a prank at all. It's the culmination of all my fantasies. Moving out of home and into a dorm room was what made me realize just how much I missed my mother. How hot she is compared to other women. How hard my cock gets when I think about her.

Two semesters worth of daily dreams about all the dirty deeds I want to do to her and when an opportunity presented itself, I seized it. One touch of my finger and I can make the toy inside of her vibrate.

"Everything's fine," she says and takes a deep breath.

I reach into my pocket and press the button that starts a pre-programmed routine that I titled "the finisher." Up until now, all the presets I've used have only activated the front vibrator. Mom has no idea that the one in her ass also does something special.

"Oh, God," Mom gasps loudly as the butt plug begins to pulsate.

The program starts slowly at first, building up the intensity. Mom looks around frantically, trying to look for an escape. She takes a step forward but it's too late. I'm there to catch her and she flings her arms around me for support.

The buzzing of the vibrator is loud enough that I can hear it. Mom's body trembles.

"I'm sorry," she mutters. "I'm—ohhhhh, ohhhhh!"

Mom throws her head back. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is open. She leans to the side and her hand looks up to grab her breast. Her nipple is hard and she pinches it through the fabric. It was only a guess before but it is confirmed now. She's not wearing a bra.

Fortunately, she's too occupied to feel my throbbing erection push into her abdomen.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, ohhhhh," she moans.

Mom's legs begin to shake and she grows a lot heavier. The sound of water dripping on hardwood makes me look down and I see a small rivulet flow down her thigh and drip off her knee. Jesus, she's really cumming.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

It's getting too difficult to hold her and I let her down gently on the ground, though she's still clinging to me, so it means I have to kneel down next to her. The bottom of her dress rides up and the high-tech panties become visible. The buzzing gets louder and I can see them vibrating. The edges of Mom's bush are visible to the left and right of the narrow band.

The buzzing winds down and Mom slumps against my thighs. Her cheek rests right on my throbbing erection and it's almost enough to make me cum.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," she sighs.

Her eyes flutter open slowly as if she's not quite sure what's going on. She looks at me dreamily, then suddenly it dawns on her.

Moving quick as lightning, she looks at me horrified, grabs my thigh for support, and pushes herself to her feet, yanking down her dress at the same time. Or at least she tries to. She's not quite standing yet when her legs crumble and she falls back down, landing hard on her butt.

"Ow!" she winces.

"It's okay," I tell her in a crackly voice. My throat is dry as sandpaper.

"No, you don't understand, it's—help me up, Myles."

Of course, I help her up. I offer her my hand and she grips it. I pull her to her feet and she holds on tightly, still somewhat unsteady. With her free hand, she pushes her dress back down to her knees.

"I don't know what happened, I must be dehydrated or something," she mumbles. "Nothing serious, just need to drink a little water and I'll be alright."

"I know what an orgasm looks like, Mom," I say.

Mom's head snaps up to look at me, horrified. Her cheeks begin to flush and within seconds, she's as red as a strawberry.

"I-I-I—your father—it was—" she stammers.

I can't help it and start laughing. Mom stops and eyes me suspiciously. The gears are turning in her head.

"Why are you laughing?" she asks as the first tear escapes my eye.

It's all just so damn funny. I don't know how long I've fantasized over her gorgeous body, how long I've wanted her, and now it happened. Whether she knows it or not, I made her orgasm. With the touch of a button, I can make the toy inside of her move but I can never actually touch her myself.

But I want to. I need to.

"April fools," I squeeze out between wheezing laughter.

Mom knows. Her eyes go wide in surprise as soon as the words connect in her head. But she can't believe I would do something like that. Not her only son.

"What did you do?" she asks slowly, voice filled with disbelief.

Out of breath, I pull the phone out of my pocket. The app is still open and I tap into manual control. Two sliders appear on the screen, one for her pussy, one for her ass. Tilting the phone so that she can see, I touch the pussy slider and move it up to quarter throttle.

Mom gasps and suddenly the kitchen is dead silent, save for the faint hum between her legs. She looks at me, horrified, as if she sees who I really am for the first time. Her mouth works as if she wants to say something but doesn't know the words.

What do I have to lose anyway? I touch the ass slider and crank it up to fifty-percent. A shiver runs through her and she snatches the phone out of my hand, turning it off.

"Myles," she says, looking back at me.

"Mom."

"What did you do?" she whispers.

"I pranked you."

"This isn't a prank, this is... it's not right. What the hell were you thinking?"

"That it would be funny to give you something for your birthday that Dad won't."

"Your father—"

"—hasn't made you cum in a long time," I interrupted.

Mom swallows the lump in her throat, looking at me aghast. Even if she had any doubts before about what my goal was, she knows now. It wasn't a mistake or boyish innocence. I made her climax.

"This is breaking all the rules," she mutters.

"Right, sorry," I say and grab a towel. "I made a mess, I'll clean it up."

The hardwood floor has several puddles, one larger one and a few smaller. I get on my knees in front of a very dumbfounded Mom and begin wiping up the large puddle of her juices. There has to be at least a cup of the stuff. The towel grows damp and my fingers tingle. I want to lick them clean and press the fabric right up against my nose.

A minute later, the floor is as clean as it's going to get with just a towel. Mom looks down at me, transfixed. She didn't run away in fright, she's not yelling at me, she's just looking at me. Surprise, not anger.

Do I even dare?

"Looks like I missed a spot," I say and scoot closer to her.

Leaning in, I plant a kiss on the side of her knee. Immediately, my nose fills with the aroma of her sex. I can taste the sweet trail of juices, half-dried on her skin. I lick and the taste intensifies.

"Ohhhh," Mom moans.

That's all the encouragement I need. I grab the hem of her dress and push it up, licking at her inner thigh ferociously, leaving a trail of shiny, wet skin. I switch to the other side, working my way upward until my forehead bumps into warm fabric.

I pull back and look up at Mom. She's looking down at me, biting her lips together. Without breaking eye contact, I dig my index fingers under the elastic band of the panties on either side and pull it down.

There's some resistance and I hear a wet schlick as the attachments leave her holes. Then I can't help it any longer, I break eye contact to look at my mother's pussy.

It's breathtakingly erotic. She has a thick patch of brown hair, trimmed to her panty line, currently damp. Between that are two full lips, puffed up. The underwear drops the rest of the way to the floor.

Then the most incredible thing happens. Mom's left leg moves to the side and she takes a much wider stance. I jump at the opportunity, pressing my mouth against her pussy and entering her with my tongue.

"Ohhhh," Mom moans. Her fingers run through my hair and she grabs a fistful.

The heat, the aroma, the sensation of my tongue gliding over her labia, slipping into her wet hole, the pubic hair on my cheeks, everything is incredible. I reach up and grab her buttcheeks, squeezing them. I muster all the knowledge I possess to try and guide my wild, ferocious hunger.

Surprisingly quickly, Mom's leg begins to tremble. She slumps against the kitchen island and tugs at my hair. I pull back and look up at her, eyes closed, mouth open, breathing heavily. Then the orgasm begins in full.

Using three fingers, Mom begins to rub herself. I'm a little sad that I'm not the one who gets to finish the job but I'm not complaining. She slowly glides down the kitchen cabinet. The hem of her dress gets caught on the knob of a drawer and as she descends, it is pulled off her body.

Inch by inch, Mom's naked body is revealed. Her milky white, soft stomach. The large and luscious pair of breasts, adorned by hard nipples in a shade so light they're almost invisible. Her butt touches the ground, her legs are spread wide, and the dress is wrapped loosely around her throat.

"Oh, yeah," she sighs and her hand drops away.

I can see every time her pussy contracts, like a slow, powerful heartbeat. I grab the dress, bunch it up, and she raises her arms to allow me to pull it over her head. When I'm done, her eyes are open again and she looks at me dreamily.

Mom laughs. An out-of-breath, nervous giggle, really.

"You laughed. That means it was a good prank after all," I say.

Instantly, Mom cuts off and snaps her lips shut, looking guilty. She shakes her head without breaking eye contact.

I undo the button of my jeans. Her eyes flicker down toward the movement and she sucks in her breath. I push my pants down, at last able to ease the pressure of my aching erection. I push my boxers down and it pops up. Seven inches of the most painfully hard cock, pointing its circumcised tip right at Mom's face. I raise my legs one at a time to push the clothes past my knee.

"No, no, no, no," Mom mutters. "We are not doing that. This is too far."

I scoot closer.

"Myles, you know this is wrong!"

I scoot closer. My knees are touching her still spread thighs. Her pussy stopped contracting and a puddle of juices dripped on the floor beneath.

"Is this really what you want?" she asks.

I nod. Mom looks down at my cock and looks at it with a mix of guilt and longing.

"God, that looks good," she mutters and apparently startles herself. Her head snaps up again and she takes a deep breath. "Just one time, okay?"

Fireworks explode in my chest. I can't believe my luck when Mom places both her hands on my shoulders. She pulls herself up, legs sliding up my thighs. I grab the small of her back and pull her closer. Her hot vulva presses against the base of my cock and my balls. Our faces are level to another and I look deep into her sparkling blue eyes.

Mom raises herself until the tip of my cock slips an inch forward, then drops back down. My brain is overwhelmed by the sensation of my penis being completely engulfed by her vagina. My mother's pussy. My cock is inside Mom.

I remember that I have to breathe. She does all the work. With her feet firmly planted on the floor, she pushes up again, letting herself drop back down. Slow and methodical.

It feels like I'm in a dream. The most fantastic, wonderful, incredible dream. My entire body is buzzing with energy.

I don't know how long it lasts. It feels like an eternity when the powerful spike of my orgasm races up my spine. My body explodes, overwhelming my brain and pumping cum.

 

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