Sexy Mom Helps Son in Bad Marriage

The biggest mistake I ever made was not listening to my mother when I was twenty years old and marrying Belinda. I guess that’s two mistakes. Belinda was so sexy but had clear ideas on how our marriage should work — ideas that left me with no say in the matter. She insisted I work for her father, then saddled me with a mortgage and two car payments in my name, so I was indebted for life; Belinda controlled every aspect of our relationship once I was on her daddy’s payroll.

What made her controlling behavior especially toxic was her volatile temper and her jealous, suspicious nature. She could go from zero to rage in a matter of seconds without any provocation. I guess I saw it all going in, but my cock blinded me from that reality. Regular sex with a beautiful woman can do that to a man, no matter how irrational she can be. It didn’t take long after the I-dos to realize I was trapped. My mother saw it coming and tried to subtly coax me into taking a step back and seeing what I was getting into. If only I had listened to her.

Fortunately, Mom was always on my side, and we had developed a new closeness in our relationship my senior year in high school. It started one night when Mom had been out with her girlfriends. When she got home, she was flirty with me. It was weird seeing my own mother playing a tease, but she was attractive and had a beautiful body. I don’t mind admitting that I would sneak a peek at her coming out of the shower or getting dressed when the opportunity arose. Mom and I sat on the sofa that night kissing, then without thinking, I started caressing her breasts. Instead of pulling back, Mom rubbed my stiffening cock through my pants, looking at me and smiling. That went on for a few minutes before Mom excused herself and went to bed. Alone.

It went no further that night, and Mom kept her distance the next day, yet offered me sexy smile when I saw her in the morning. It was her way of saying what happened the night before was okay, but it wasn’t likely to be a regular thing. It did, however become an occasional thing, with her often frisky after a night out with her friends, or me coming home at night catching her watching porn. I never expected to make love with her, but I did allow myself to fantasize about my mother when I jerked off. On occasion, I would sneak a pair of her panties out of her drawer, spray some perfume on them, and hold them to my nose as I stroked my cock.

Belinda was usually curt with mom unless others were around. I saw it, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I see now that Mom wanted to stop the wedding but she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she prepared herself to help me when things inevitably went bad.

“I want you to be careful,” Mom said. “I don’t know if she’s stable.”

I saw it, but I didn’t want to admit it. I was twenty. What did I know about life? My bride was sexy as hell and could be charming and seductive. For a few short months, that was enough.

With time, Belinda and I fought more and more. She had a volatile temper, she was insanely jealous and suspicious, and she could be totally stubborn and irrational. She could be loving and tender yet there was always the possibility of her erupting at any moment. We wallowed in a toxic environment.

A couple months after our small wedding, Belinda was playing mind games with me one night. I felt the tension building up, but this time, instead of yelling back once the yelling began like I had in the past, I called my mother for help. “I’m stressed out,” I said. “I could use a massage.”

“Of course. Come over and I’ll take care of you.” When I arrived a few minutes later, Mom led me to her bedroom and told me to get comfortable. I considered stripping bare naked but decided to keep my silk boxers on.

Mom grabbed the lotion and started massaging my back with long, oily strokes setting me immediately at ease. She went to work on my shoulders and the back of my neck with deep squeezes, then made her way down to my lower back. When she got to my boxers, she pulled them down to reveal my butt, then drizzling oil over my bare skin. She massaged my butt cheeks seductively, then slowly went to my thighs and all the way down to my feet. She knew what she was doing and I was starting to get aroused. By the time she had me turn over, my hard cock sprang up.

Mom pulled off her Tshirt and bra, exposing her perfect B cups, and rubbed oil on them. She pulled my boxers all the way off, then lowered herself and began massaging my cock with her tits. It was such a wonderful feeling and I drifted far from the chaos at home as Mom continued to rub her tits up and down my shaft. After working my cock good and hard, Mom looked me in the eyes, then went down on me, taking my cock in her mouth. Her tongue circled the head of my cock and then she slid it all the way in her mouth. It was such a turn on seeing my cock deep in my mother’s mouth and thinking about my wife missing out. Let her throw her tantrum, I thought. I’ll take a blowjob from my mother any day.

I hadn’t had a good blowjob since before I was married, so I savored the sensation for as long as I could hold out before I blew my load in her mouth. She swallowed every bit, licked me clean, then left the room while I got dressed.

When I got home, Belinda grilled me about where I went.

“You told me to leave so I left. I didn’t want to shell out for a hotel, so I went to Mom’s to cool off.”

Belinda shook her head and smirked, pitying me, like I was some little boy running off to mommy when things got tough. She had no idea.

The tension reached the breaking point one night when Belinda accused me of sleeping with another woman, which was absurd. I had that blowjob from my mother, but Belinda was screaming accusations about some young girl from work whose pussy I supposedly had gotten into. That was impossible because her father watched my every move. I screamed back. She slapped me and started pounding me on my back. “Get the fuck out of here,” she screamed.

I surprised her when I stood and voluntarily left without a fuss. She thought she gained control over me, watching me walk out the door like she was cuckolding me.

I didn’t know where to go but in hindsight, I knew all along where I was going to end up. I drove around a bit, thought about getting a hotel room, but before I knew it, I was pulling into Mom’s driveway.

She greeted me at the door, and I didn’t have to say anything. She knew one day I’d show up after fighting with Belinda, and I’d be there for more than a massage and a blowjob. She hugged me. Kissed me. Caressed my back and whispered in my ear, “Mommy is going to take real good care of you.”

We headed to the sofa and hugged some more, and I impulsively reached for her breasts. I caressed her, wondering if I was making things worse, but mommy said, “It’s okay. It’s what mothers are for.” Soon my mouth was over her nipples sucking and a licking, my hands squeezing and rubbing. We experienced the purest form of love and understanding between a mother and her son as we sat there in a loving embrace.

Mom knelt down in front of me and took my cock in her mouth to get it nice and hard, then climbed up and straddled me on the sofa, guiding my cock inside her. One night when she was flirty, she let me lick her pussy, and once she like me slide a finger inside her wet pussy, but this was the first time my cock slid inside my mother’s tight, wet pussy. I looked her straight in the eyes and fondled her tits as she slid up and down my cock until I’d came inside her.

The next time my wife kicked me out of the house and I voluntarily left, she thought she gained control over me, that I would whimper away like a puppy. She had no idea that by now, I was loving these fights. Get out of the house? Great. That gives me a chance to go fuck my mother. To make tender love with her because she loves me and I love her.

Helping me through troubled times was the purest form of a mother’s love — and of a son’s appreciation for his mother. Let Belinda have her sham marriage with me, the relationship I had with my mother was much closer to a real marriage.

It got to the point when Mom could tell when to expect my visits. She would greet me at the door wearing only a robe and giving me a long, wet kiss. She would lead me directly to the bedroom, slide out of her robe, and begin kissing again while unbuttoning my shirt, then taking my pants off.

And so it went over the next few months, my wife suspicious for all the wrong things, never suspecting my mother and me. But tensions steadily built until one night I reached my breaking point. Belinda was totally out of control. Yelling. Screaming. Punching. Throwing things for no apparent reason. It was like she was trying to get me to hate her. I was stuck working for her dad so she could get away with anything knowing if I fought back, one call to daddy would make my life even more of a hell than it already was.”

I had to get out of the house. I was a wreck. My wife was so full of spite that it consumed me. I explained it to Mom on my drive over, but she already knew.

“It’s like she intentionally tries to make me want to hate her,” I said.

“Then there’s only one thing to do.” Mom met me at the door, again with just a robe, and led me straight to her bed. “You need to spite-fuck.”

She dropped her robe and hurried me out of my clothes. “You need to get it out of your system,” she said. Mom laid back on the bed and spread her legs for me. “What you need is a good spite-fuck. Let it all out. Come fuck your mother. Pound mommy’s pussy.”

Just like that I was on her, and inside her, wild and wonderful.

“That’s right, son. Pound my pussy. Pound it. You’re such a good boy. Pound it for mommy.” I never experienced anything so intense, like Mom was spite-fucking Belinda as much as I was. “Harder. Harder,” Mom said. “Fuck your mom’s pussy. Teach your wife a lesson.”

“That fucking bitch,” I blurted out.

“That’s right,” Mom said. “She’s a bitch. Pound my pussy and teach that bitch a lesson.”