Real sex stories of mom and son 2025

My name is Amanda, I’m 35, married, and a mom to two boys. My husband, James, is 46, a government worker, and we’ve always had a steady, passionate sex life—every couple of days, sometimes more. One night, I slipped into the bedroom, pretending to head to bed early. James and our eldest son, Ethan, were glued to the TV, probably watching football. Five minutes later, James came in, asking if I was asleep. “Asleep? I’ve been waiting for you,” I teased, my voice low. “Tonight, I’m taking you to the stars.”

I’d always craved him. Even after years together, he still set me on fire. James grinned, climbing into bed. “Alright, babe, let’s see what you’ve got,” he said. I started undressing, slow and deliberate, and within ten minutes, we were both naked. He pulled me close, whispering, “Take me in, love.” We slid into a 69 position, his tongue working wonders while I took him deep, both of us lost in the heat of it. We were wild—biting, teasing, consumed. Then he lifted me onto his lap, and I rode him, our rhythm perfect until we both came, collapsing in a sweaty, satisfied heap. That night was pure magic.

Two days later, everything changed. James got news of a six-month temporary assignment in another state. I was devastated. Who would I turn to without him? When the day came, he left, and I felt the void immediately. For two weeks, we kept the spark alive over the phone—steamy calls, naked photos I sent to keep him going. It wasn’t the same, but it was something.

One afternoon, while I was dozing around 2 p.m., Ethan, my 18-year-old, climbed into bed beside me. His younger brother, Liam, was at school, and Ethan had the day off. I stirred, noticing him messing with my phone. My heart sank—please, don’t let him see those photos. But then he spoke, his voice curious. “Mom, what are these pictures?” I froze. “Which ones?” I asked, praying he meant something else. “These. They’re of you,” he said. I scrambled for an explanation. “Look, Ethan, your dad and I… we use these to keep things spicy when he’s away.” He raised an eyebrow. “Got any of Dad’s?” I lied, “No.” But he scrolled further, finding one of James. “So, this is Dad’s?” he asked. I nodded, mortified.

Then he got serious. “Mom, I’m young, but I’ve got needs too. I’m burning up inside.” I sighed, “You’re at that age, huh?” He smirked, “Way past it.” Then he leaned closer, his voice soft. “You’re so hot, Mom.” I laughed it off, thanking him, but he wasn’t joking. “I’m serious. I’m crazy about you.” My stomach twisted. “Ethan, I’m your mom,” I said. His tone darkened. “Doesn’t matter. If you don’t give in, I’ll take what I want, and you won’t like it.” My heart raced, but I tried to keep it light. “Alright, let’s see what my boy’s got,” I said, half-joking, half-curious.

Before I could process it, he kissed me, hard. I mumbled, “Wait,” but his hands were already on me, roaming my thighs. “I’m obsessed with you,” he growled, stripping me bare. He latched onto my chest, biting gently, and I could only gasp, “Easy, Ethan.” Then he grinned, echoing his dad: “Your turn, babe.” He guided himself to my lips, and I gave in, the heat overwhelming me. I was lost, urging him on, “Come on, baby, give it to me.” He hesitated about finishing inside, but I reassured him, “I’m protected, don’t worry.” Moments later, I felt him, warm and intense, and it was… incredible. My own son, and he was phenomenal.

Now, James could stay gone for all I care. Ethan’s taken his place, and every night—while Liam’s at school or asleep—we’re at it, burning up the sheets. My boy’s a lion, and I’m hooked.