In the heart of Tokyo's serene suburbs, where cherry blossoms danced lazily in the spring breeze, stood the Nakamura family home. It was a place of quiet routines—morning tea ceremonies, evening walks along the neighborhood paths, and the soft hum of family life. But beneath the surface, tensions simmered like a pot left too long on the stove.
Aiko Nakamura, 42, was the epitome of mature Japanese beauty. Her long, raven-black hair cascaded down her back like silk, framing a face with soft, almond-shaped eyes and full lips that often curved into a secretive smile. But it was her body that turned heads, even if she hid it under modest kimonos or simple house dresses. Her breasts were enormous—full, heavy G-cup orbs that strained against any fabric, nipples often hardening at the slightest provocation. Her ass was a plump, heart-shaped masterpiece, wide and jiggling with every step, drawing lingering glances from neighbors. And between her thighs... oh, her pussy was a constant betrayal. It dripped with arousal at the mere thought of forbidden things, soaking her panties until they clung wetly to her swollen folds. Aiko had always been highly sexed, her body a furnace of unmet needs.
Her husband, Hiroshi, 45, was a salaryman through and through—reliable, kind, but utterly inadequate in the bedroom. His cock was tiny, barely four inches when hard, and he lasted a pathetic two minutes at best. Their sex life had dwindled to rare, mechanical encounters that left Aiko frustrated and aching. She'd masturbate in secret after he fell asleep, fingers plunging into her slick heat while fantasizing about something—someone—more satisfying.
That someone was her son, Kenji.
Kenji, 20, was home from university for the break. Tall and athletic from years of kendo practice, he had inherited his mother's striking features but with a masculine edge—sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and eyes that sparkled with quiet intensity. What Aiko obsessed over in her darkest thoughts was what hid beneath his yukata or jeans: a big, thick cock she'd accidentally glimpsed once during a family bath years ago. It had grown since then, she was sure—veiny, girthy, and capable of pounding for what felt like hours in her fevered dreams. Kenji was polite, studious, and oblivious to his mother's growing fixation. Or so she thought.
Hiroshi's business trip to Osaka changed everything. "I'll be gone for two weeks, Aiko," he said that morning, pecking her cheek as he adjusted his tie. "Take care of the house—and Kenji." His voice was bland, his touch fleeting. As the door clicked shut behind him, Aiko stood in the genkan, her heart racing. The house felt emptier, charged with possibility.
She glanced at the clock: 10 AM. Kenji was still asleep upstairs. Aiko's mind wandered as she prepared breakfast—miso soup, rice, grilled fish. Her nipples stiffened against her thin bra, poking through her blouse. A familiar warmth pooled between her legs, her pussy lips swelling and leaking arousal that trickled down her inner thighs. *Just the thought of him... so close, so virile.* She bit her lip, adjusting her skirt to hide the damp spot forming on her panties.
By noon, Kenji shuffled downstairs in a loose t-shirt and shorts, his hair tousled from sleep. "Ohayou, Okaa-san," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Aiko's breath caught. He was shirtless under the tee, his toned chest hinting at the power beneath. She served him breakfast at the low kotatsu table, bending slightly to place the bowl. Her massive breasts swayed heavily, nearly spilling from her top, and she noticed his eyes flicker downward for a split second.
"Arigatou," he said, digging in. They ate in companionable silence at first, the clink of chopsticks the only sound. But Aiko couldn't help herself. "Kenji-kun, your father is away for a while. It's just us now. We should... spend more time together." Her voice was soft, laced with something husky.
He looked up, smiling innocently. "Sure, Okaa-san. Maybe watch a movie tonight? Like old times."
*Old times.* When he'd cuddle against her on the couch, his head on her soft, pillowy breasts. Aiko's pussy clenched at the memory, a fresh gush of wetness soaking her. "Hai, that sounds wonderful." She shifted in her seat, her big ass pressing into the cushion, thighs rubbing together to ease the ache.
The day unfolded slowly, deliberately. Aiko found excuses to be near him—helping with laundry, where she "accidentally" brushed her hip against his as they folded clothes. Her ass, so full and round, grazed his thigh, sending a jolt through her. Kenji blushed but said nothing. In the kitchen, she reached for a high shelf, her dress riding up to reveal the curve of her thick thighs and the hint of her drenched panties. "Kenji, can you help Okaa-san?" she purred, her voice breathy.
He stood behind her, his body close—too close. As he grabbed the item, his crotch pressed lightly against her ass. Aiko gasped softly, feeling the outline of something massive stirring in his shorts. *So big... even soft.* Her pussy dripped harder, juices coating her inner lips, making her clit throb with need. She lingered there, pretending to struggle, grinding back ever so slightly.
"S-Sorry," Kenji stammered, pulling away. But his eyes lingered on her cleavage, where her breasts heaved with each breath.
Evening came, the sun dipping behind the sakura trees. They settled on the couch for that movie—an old romance, fittingly. Aiko wore a loose yukata, nothing underneath but sheer panties already soaked through. Her nipples tented the fabric obscenely. Kenji sat beside her, closer than necessary.
As the film played, Aiko's hand "accidentally" rested on his thigh. "You're so grown up now, Kenji-kun," she whispered, her fingers tracing lazy circles. Higher... higher. Her obsession burned; she needed to feel him, to compare him to that worthless husband.
Kenji tensed, but didn't move away. His shorts tented noticeably—a thick, lengthening bulge that made Aiko's mouth water. *Hiroshi could never... but my son...* Her pussy was a flood now, dripping onto the couch cushion, her big ass shifting restlessly.
The movie's romantic scene intensified—kisses, caresses. Aiko leaned into him, her massive breast pressing against his arm. "Do you... ever think about girls, Kenji?" she asked, voice trembling with lust.
He swallowed hard. "S-Sometimes..."
She turned to him, eyes dark with desire. "Show Okaa-san what you've learned." Her hand slid boldly to his crotch, cupping the enormous, thickening cock through his shorts. It twitched, growing harder under her touch—easily twice his father's size, veiny and pulsing.
Kenji's eyes widened, but he didn't pull away. "Okaa-san... this is..."
"Shh," she hushed, stroking slowly. Her other hand slipped under her yukata, fingers dipping into her sopping wet pussy, circling her clit as she moaned softly. "Your father is gone. Let me take care of you... like a real woman should."
The slow burn ignited. Aiko pulled him into a deep, forbidden kiss, her tongue invading his mouth as her hand freed his massive cock—thick as her wrist, over 8 inches and still hardening. Precum beaded at the tip. She pumped it slowly, marveling at its girth, while her own arousal dripped in rivulets down her thighs.
Kenji groaned, his hands finally moving to grope her huge breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. "Okaa-san... you're so wet... I can smell it."
She straddled him then, yukata falling open to reveal her dripping pussy hovering over his throbbing shaft. No rush—just teasing rubs, her slick folds gliding along his length, coating him in her juices. "Feel how much I need you, Kenji-kun. Your cock is perfect... so big, so thick. It'll last all night."
He thrust up instinctively, the fat head nudging her entrance. Aiko sank down slowly, inch by girthy inch stretching her walls deliciously. She was so full, so complete—unlike anything with Hiroshi. Her big ass bounced lightly as she rode him at a languid pace, breasts jiggling wildly.
They fucked for what felt like eternity—his stamina endless, pounding deep while she creamed around him, orgasm after orgasm ripping through her. Juices squirted with each thrust, soaking their joined bodies. "Yes, my son... fill Okaa-san!"