The Debenoir Affair

Christmas music played on the radio and indistinct conversations filled the air in a very busy home one snowy night. A party was held for family members and friends, to celebrate the festive season with joy and cheer.

Among the many partygoers, there was a woman, somewhere in her 40s, who sat on the couch chatting with other women her age. She was dressed in a fine red blouse, fit for her slim body and rather large breasts, paired with a black skirt and leggings that would get most men mouth-watering upon seeing her the first time. While most women would judge her and advise her to 'dress her age', she would simply brush it off and be proud of her looks that she worked so hard to achieve. Her thick brunette hair bounces when she speaks, hovering just over her shoulders. Her skin is as fair as snow, her feline eyes filled with life and her red lips thick and luscious.

"That's Margaret Debenoir," came the whispers and murmurs of Selma Coolidge and Maude Milanders, the neighbourhood gossip, eyeing her from a distance. "She's the daughter of tonight's hosts. The heir to the Debenoir estate and wealth."

"Is that so? Is she married?"

"Divorced. She took her name back and half of her former husband's properties, leaving him a shrew for having an affair with his receptionist."

"Smart move. No children?"

"Only one. A son. Philip Debenoir, he took his mother's name after discovering the affair."

"Is he here?"

"Yes, he is." A third voice interrupted the women's conversation. A tall young man in his 20s, with a defined jaw and beautiful hazel eyes. He was dressed in a sharp suit and his hair was combed neatly towards the back.

"Oh! Philip! We didn't know you were also at this party!"

"I just landed last night, actually. I may have overheard you ladies having a discussion. I hope you weren't talking about my mother. Again."

The women got flustered, out of guilt of getting caught and by the young man's charismatic output. "N-no. Of course not, Philip."

"I appreciate that very much, ladies. Now, if you'll excuse me; I'll be joining my mother's side now and please enjoy the rest of the night."

The young man left the women to their conversation and indeed, joined his mother, whose smile widened with joy and pride.

The evening carried on without any other trouble and the guests eventually returned to their homes. Caterers cleared out the food and home services cleaned up the house. Now, it was just Mr. and Mrs. Debenoir, their daughter, Margaret and grandson, Philip. They sat together in front of the fireplace, enjoying the warmth and togetherness.

Margaret cuddled up with Philip, laying gently in his arms, resting her head on his chest. Mr. Debenoir observed steadily, choosing not to speak up or comment on his uncomfortable feelings, as advised by his wife.

"The snow is getting heavier outside. I don't think you will be able to drive out in this weather," Mrs. Debenoir said, "I think it would be better if you both stayed the night."

"We don't want to impose," Philip replied.

"Nonsense! We'll get the guest rooms ready for you two."

Later that night, the family began to retreat to their own rooms. Margaret was the first, announcing her need for a shower. "Good night everyone," she said before disappearing into her room.

"I'll call it a night as well. Good night, Grandpa and Grandma."

"Good night, Philip." Mrs. Debenoir said, walking up the stairs to the master bedroom. But Mr. Debenoir grabbed his arm. He may be old but his grip was still firm.

"You are sleeping in different bedrooms. Correct?" he asked.

Philip smiled and gently tapped his grandfather's hand, affirmation in his eyes but no answer from his lips.

Then, both men went away separately, the younger Debenoir retreating into a separate room than his mother.

Philip was alone in his room. He removed his shirt and laid on the bed, his sculpted body; large chest and detailed abs bare and exposed. He had his phone out, scrolling through social media. The sound of rushing water was loud and clear in the connecting bathroom between his room and his mother's.

The young Debenoir simply waited patiently until his mother was done.

Then, the handles squeaked and the rushing waters stopped. It would be another minute or two before the door swung open. Margaret stepped out, accompanied by steam, dressed in nothing but towels wrapped around her body and her head. "Hello, sweetie," she said with a calm and flirty demeanour.

"Hello, mother. Did you enjoy your shower?"

"Very much, thank you. You should go and take one yourself and get ready for bed. I'll be right here when you're done."

"Really? Grandpa seems to be very against that idea."

"Oh, don't mind him. He's just an old man. What is he going to do, really?" She giggled and tossed a towel at the young man. "Now, enough chit-chat. Go and shower."

Philip giggled back and obeyed her orders. He got up and dropped his pants, leaving only his briefs on. Margaret knew his actions were a show meant for her; she could see the very visible bulge from his underwear... and her heart skipped a beat. She smiled and returned to her skincare.

"Love you, Mom," Philip said, sneaking an ass smack on his way past her. She yelped slightly, clearly unaware he would do that.

Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Debenoir were upstairs in their room, resting together in bed. Mrs. Debenoir was talking endlessly about the events of the party and all the new gossip she heard from her friends and neighbours, unaware that Mr. Debenoir wasn't listening; in fact he was very absorbed in a book.

"Henry? Henry, are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" he startled, "I'm sorry, darling. You were saying?"

"You weren't even listening. What are you reading that has gotten you so intrigued?"

"The tales of Oedipus."

"Oedipus? Isn't that the king who-"

"Slept with his mother? Yes, indeed."

"Henry... Please tell me this isn't part of your obsession with Margaret and Philip."

"It is unnatural, Madelyn! A mother should not be so comfortable with her own son that way! You saw how they were tonight!"

"It has been a month since Margaret's divorce was finalized. If she finds comfort in her son, we'll let her be."

"No! They cannot behave that way. A mother and son cannot be so intimate to that point. I simply will not allow it." The man returned to his book in a huff.

"Henry..."

The grandparents continued their debate upstairs, completely unaware of the young and strapping handsome fellow stepping out of the steamy shower in the guest room downstairs. His body was still wet, highlighting the perfect curves of his chest and abs in the light, just above the towel wrapped around his waist.

His mother laid on her side on his bed, wearing an almost see-through silk piece that covered just her sensitive parts but emphasised her smooth thighs. Her hard nipples poked through the thin fabric, something Philip saw from a distance.

With a smile, he wasted no time and dove into bed, joining his mother. He claimed her lips with his, kissing passionately as a man and woman. Their hands moved meticulously all around their bodies, carefully feeling the texture of skin and muscle, embracing their sin of lust and passion.

Margaret tossed aside his towel, revealing his rigid member standing tall between his legs. Her eyes widened with excitement, locked on the sight of its bulbous head, thick shaft and hairy base.

"Someone's been waiting very patiently," she said, lowering herself down to meet his cock face to face.

"You have no idea how patient I've been waiting, mother."

Margaret's slender fingers wrapped around the cock's veiny shaft. "Tonight... call me 'Mommy'."

"Yes, Mommy."

She then took his cock in her mouth, sucking it while bobbing her head up and down. Philip watched the display unfold, adjusting her hair to the back of her head, the spectacle of seeing his penis disappear into his mother's mouth whenever she bobbed down. The sight of the top of her head was magical and felt so taboo at the same time.

All throughout the night, he defended her honour against those who spoke badly of her. "She is my mother," he would proudly say. But now, with that in his mind, it never felt so good... yet so wrong. And that made this feel... amazing.

He had his fingers through her hair, gripping them like a ponytail as things got more heated. Faster. His groans fill the air while her moans, muffled.

After a minute or so, she stopped and pulled herself up, her right hand holding his thigh for balance while her left cusped her breast. She had been flicking her nipple, sending waves of pleasure through her body during the blowjob.

"Lay back," she pushed him gently, laying him flat on the bed so she could cradle herself over him. The cock now lathered in saliva, nature's lube, she slid it directly into her aching pussy. The Debenoir woman moaned aloud with her head thrown back, as if she had finally achieved a goal she had been waiting for for too long.

Philip held his mother's hips, slowly climbing up to her bouncing breasts as the woman rode him like a stallion in the Wild West. "Mommy! Fuck! Your pussy feels so good!"

"Watch your language, honey. I'm still your mother."

"Sorry, Mommy! Oh, damn!"

He could feel her bare buttocks smacking hard on his balls, causing the sounds of flesh on flesh.

"Okay, get on the bed." Philip took charge of the situation and positioned his mother on all fours. Her ass lifted and ready, Philip positioned himself behind her. She bit down on the pillow as she felt his fingers slide inside her.

The young man loved feeling the inside of his mother's vagina first before re-entering his waiting member. Her pussy was shrouded in a thick layer of unkept pubes, difficult to see the slit from afar but it added so much more beauty to her current form. Her pubes tickled the man's knuckles when he slid his fingers in and out of her.

"Alright, young man, no more playing around." Margaret said with a growl.

Philip propped up on his knees behind her and gently held her waists, her love-handles. The feeling of his cock sliding into her wet clit was truly incredible, feeling the wet walls tightening around him, a feeling so familiar and so pleasurable.

He pumped without thought, pistoning his cock into his mother's womb like it was pure animalistic instinct. Smacking of flesh and the scent of sweat filled their external senses, electric shocks of pleasure rushed up their internal senses.

"Keep going! Don't stop!"

Philip held on for as long as he could, feeling the urge to explode and fill her womb with his semen. But he waited too long for it to be over so soon. He had been watching his mother all night, hearing tales of men and what they would do with her. Oh, if only they knew whose cock fills her cunt every night.

"On your back," Philip said with a smack on her bum. Her turn to lie on her back, legs spread apart and ready. Her hair, slightly damp from sweat, sprawled out across the pillow. He applied his weight on her, and slid his cock into her warm clit.

She moaned with eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her body writhed and trembled at the amount of pleasure she was getting. Her legs wrapped around Philip's back, absorbing him completely and taking in every amount of his body and energy.

"Mommy! Your pussy is so good! I'm gonna cum soon!"

"Keep holding on. I'm almost there too."

The bed rocked with their rhythm. A perfect flow between the two. Philip's speed increased when he adjusted his body, applying more weight and focus to his abdomen, allowing him to thrust his pelvic muscles with more control. He could feel it; his mother's quivering lips and trembling thighs.

She was at her limit. And so was he.

"Mommy! I'm gonna cum!"

"Me too, baby! Fill me up!"

"What?"

"Do it, honey! Give me your sperm! And I'll give you beautiful children," she caressed his face gently, locking her legs around him. He grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed them, flicking her nipple with his thumb as he pistoned faster. She moaned louder and louder, nearly screaming. Her fingers dug into the man's large back, her toes curling and her mind going blank.

Then, with a loud and satisfied moan, both mother and son reached their climaxes, her body writhed and trembled as she felt her son's hot fluids fill up her insides, like a hot bun creamed until extras oozed out.

Philip twitched and shook, pushing out every single last drop of semen he could produce. He didn't pull his cock out until it turned flaccid, letting it slowly slide out of Margaret's pussy on its own.

"That was incredible," Philip said, panting and struggling to catch his breath. "Are you okay?"

The young man was still on top of Margaret, the woman enjoying his weight on her. "Yea," she replied breathily, as if letting out air at the same time. "It was so good."

Philip laid beside his mother, both exhausted, panting and covered in sweat. Cum leaked out bit by bit, and Philip's drenched crotch began to crust in the cold air. She snuggled up to him after a moment, resting her head on his chest and caressed his chest with her fingers.

"I love you, Mom," Philip said, "like no other son would love his mother."

"You got that right." She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. "I love you too." They kissed and they drifted to sleep slowly.

The next morning began as every other day did. Margaret was the first awake, naked with her breasts out on full display. She giggled when she saw her son, equally naked and laying in the same position he passed out in the night before.

She showered. And shortly after, so did he. And then they joined the grandparents for breakfast, as if it was just another normal day.

"How was your sleep?" and "It was good" were repeated all around the table. Margaret and Philip secretly held hands under the table as they ate.

Before noon, the mother and son said their goodbyes and made their way home. Henry glared at Philip the whole time the car was still in their driveway, like a father staring down his daughter's new boyfriend.

Their car eventually disappeared down the road, turning a corner and the mother and son made their way back to their home.