The clock on the wall read 2:17 a.m. when I slipped out of bed again.
Aiko was deeply asleep beside me, one arm flung over her head, mouth slightly open. She hadn't stirred when I kissed her forehead goodnight. She never did anymore.
I padded barefoot down the hall, the floor cool under my soles. Mom's door was cracked open just enough—an invitation she'd left hours ago with a single whispered word before we'd all turned in: "Come when she's asleep."
Inside, the room was dark except for the faint glow of a bedside lamp turned low. Mom sat up in the futon, yukata already loosened, the fabric pooled around her waist. Her massive breasts were bare, heavy and gleaming with a thin sheen of oil she must have rubbed in while waiting. Her nipples stood out stiff and dark, begging.
"I couldn't sleep," she breathed as I shut the door. "I kept feeling you inside me all evening. Every time I moved at the table, your cum shifted and reminded me."
I was on her in two strides, mouth crashing into hers, hands filling themselves with those slick, oiled breasts. She moaned into the kiss, arching so hard her nipples dragged across my palms.
"I milked myself a little while I waited," she confessed against my lips, voice trembling. "Just my breasts. Thinking of you. Look."
She guided my hand lower. Between her thighs she was drenched, swollen, ready. Two fingers slipped inside her with obscene ease.
"I'm so full of you still," she whispered. "I didn't let any leak out after the shower. I wanted to keep every drop."
The thought made my cock throb painfully. I shoved my boxers down and climbed over her, pushing her gently onto her back. She spread wide instantly, knees falling open, offering everything.
I entered her in one slow, deliberate thrust, groaning at how perfectly she took me. She was molten, silky, still stretched from the day's endless fucking yet somehow tighter in the dark—like her body had learned to crave only me.
We moved lazily at first, savoring every inch. I kept my weight on my elbows so I could watch her breasts roll with each stroke, oil making them gleam like wet silk. I bent to lick a bead of it from one nipple and tasted sweet almond and her skin.
"I want to drink from you one day," I rasped, only half-joking. "Want these tits dripping for me."
She shuddered hard, pussy fluttering around my cock. "They would if you kept this up long enough. They ache for you already."
That sent a dark thrill through me. I hooked her knees over my elbows and folded her nearly in half, driving deeper. The new angle made her gasp, eyes rolling back.
"Quiet," I warned again, even as I pounded harder. "Aiko's right down the hall."
Mom bit her lip, nodding frantically, but her moans kept slipping out—soft, desperate, unstoppable. I silenced her with my mouth, swallowing every sound as I fucked her steadily, relentlessly.
Her hands clawed at my back. "I'm going to come," she whimpered into my shoulder. "I can't stop it—"
"Then come," I growled. "Come all over your son's cock while his wife sleeps ten meters away."
She shattered silently, body seizing, pussy spasming so hard it dragged me over the edge with her. I buried myself to the root and let go, pumping another thick load deep inside her welcoming heat. I stayed there, grinding slowly, making sure every drop stayed where it belonged.
When the tremors finally faded, I didn't pull out. Instead I rolled us onto our sides, still joined, her leg hooked over my hip.
She nuzzled my neck, breath warm. "Stay inside me tonight. Just like this. I want to fall asleep with you filling me."
I kissed her slow and deep. "Try getting me to leave."
We drifted off tangled together, my cock softening but never slipping free, plugged inside her warmth. Sometime near dawn I woke hard again, still buried in her, and took her gently from behind—slow, sleepy thrusts that left us both trembling through quiet, shared climaxes before sleep reclaimed us.
When the first birds began chirping outside, I finally eased out. Thick rivers of our mixed release followed, soaking the sheets. She smiled lazily, tracing a finger through the mess on her thigh.
"Bring me more tonight," she murmured. "I'm already hungry again."
I kissed her once more, tasting tomorrow on her tongue, then slipped back to my own bed before Aiko stirred.
Three more days until Mom's train home.
We weren't going to waste a single hour.
Morning light crept through the shōji like pale fingers. I woke before the alarm, cock already rigid and aching, the sheets twisted around my hips. Aiko had rolled away in the night; her back was a cool wall. I didn't touch her. I hadn't touched her in months, and now the thought felt almost obscene.
Mom's door was open. She was waiting.
She stood in the center of the guest room wearing nothing but the thin gold chain she always kept around her neck (the one Dad gave her thirty years ago). Her breasts looked heavier than ever in the soft light, nipples dark and already peaked. A faint sheen of dried cum still streaked her inner thighs from the night before.
"Train leaves tomorrow at noon," she said quietly. No greeting, no pretense. Just the truth hanging between us like smoke.
I crossed the room in three strides and kissed her so hard our teeth clicked. She tasted of sleep and want. My hands went straight to her breasts, lifting, squeezing, feeling the weight I'd become addicted to in only four days.
"Then we're not sleeping again until you're on that platform," I told her.
She laughed, low and filthy, and sank to her knees right there on the tatami.
I watched, stunned, as she took me into her mouth without hesitation. Warm, wet suction, tongue swirling around the head, cheeks hollowing. She looked up at me the whole time, eyes watering slightly when I hit the back of her throat, but never pulling away. Her hands cupped my balls, rolling them gently, urging me deeper.
"Mom—" The word broke on a groan. I tangled my fingers in her hair and fucked her mouth in shallow, greedy thrusts. She moaned around me, the vibration shooting straight to my spine.
I didn't last long. Couldn't. Not after days of constant edging inside her. I came with a choked warning, hips jerking as I spilled down her throat. She swallowed every drop, then licked me clean like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When she stood, lips swollen and shining, she whispered, "I've wanted to taste my son since the first night."
I hauled her to the futon and spread her out beneath me. She was drenched, thighs slick, pussy flushed dark pink and gaping slightly from everything we'd done. I slid into her easily, groaning at how perfectly she still fit me.
We fucked slow and deep, missionary again, because I needed to see her face. Needed to watch those heavy breasts bounce with every thrust, needed to see her eyes roll back when I ground against her clit.
"Tell me you'll come back," I rasped, hips snapping harder.
"Every chance I get," she promised, nails raking down my back. "I'll make excuses. I'll lie. I don't care."
I hooked her legs over my shoulders and pounded into her until the headboard rattled. She came with a broken cry, pussy fluttering wildly, milking me. I followed seconds later, flooding her so deep I felt it in my bones.
We didn't stop.
All day we moved through the house like a storm.
On the sofa, her riding me reverse, breasts swinging as she slammed down again and again, my thumb rubbing her clit until she squirted (actually squirted) all over my lap.
In the kitchen again, bent over the counter while I took her from behind, one hand over her mouth to muffle the screams, the other kneading a breast until milk-white fingerprints bloomed on her skin.
On the washing machine during the spin cycle, vibrations making her come before I even got inside.
By evening we were raw, shaking, covered in each other. She knelt between my legs on the living-room floor and let me paint those magnificent tits with a final load, watching it drip from her nipples before licking herself clean with slow, deliberate swirls of her tongue.
Afterward, we showered together one last time. I washed her gently, reverently, memorizing every curve. She did the same for me, tears finally slipping when my fingers traced the faint bruises on her hips (my bruises).
Back in her room, she packed slowly while I sat on the futon and watched. Every time she bent over the suitcase, her breasts swayed, and I felt myself stirring again despite the ache.
When the bag was closed, she climbed into my lap, guided me inside her one more time, and rode me slow and quiet. No rush. Just the soft, wet sounds of bodies that already knew each other by heart.
"I'll leave something for you," she whispered against my lips.
She reached between us, gathered the slick where we joined, and coated her fingers. Then, deliberately, she painted a glistening heart just above her left breast (right over her heart) with our mixed release.
"When you miss me," she said, voice trembling only slightly, "touch here and remember I'm full of you."
I kissed the mark, tasting us both, and came inside her one final time with her name on my lips like a prayer.
Later, when Aiko came home, Mom greeted her with the same warm smile as always. No one could tell she was full to the brim with her son's cum, that her thighs still trembled when she walked, that her nipples were raw and tender under the modest sweater.
At dinner she sat across from me, serene, occasionally brushing her fingers over that hidden heart beneath the fabric.
Tomorrow she would board the train.
Tonight, after Aiko fell asleep, I would crawl into Mom's bed one last time and add another quiet load to the ones already waiting inside her (a secret she would carry all the way home, warm and wet between her legs for the entire six-hour journey).
And when the countryside swallowed her up again, I would still taste her on my tongue, feel her around my cock, and count the days until the next visit.
Because some hungers, once awakened, never go back to sleep.
The message arrived at 9:03 p.m. on a Thursday.
Keiko:
Your father left for his brother's in Hokkaido this morning.
He'll be gone ten days.
I booked the night train.
Arrive Tokyo Station 6:47 tomorrow.
Will you meet me?
My hand shook as I typed back.
Kenji:
Platform 14. I'll be the one already hard.
Keiko:
Good boy.
I didn't sleep. I jerked off twice in the shower just to take the edge off, but it didn't help. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her breasts swaying as she rode me, felt her pussy clenching when she came whispering "my son" like a prayer.
Aiko left for a weekend work retreat on Friday afternoon. She kissed my cheek, told me to "relax and eat properly," and never noticed the overnight bag already packed by the door.
I reached the station at 6:15. The Shinkansen pulled in exactly on time. I watched the doors slide open, commuters spilling out, and then, there she was.
Mom stepped onto the platform in a simple navy dress that hugged every dangerous curve. The neckline was modest, but the fabric strained across her chest; she had clearly chosen the thinnest bra she owned, or none at all. Her eyes found me instantly. She smiled, slow and filthy, and walked straight into my arms.
No words in front of strangers. Just the crush of her body against mine, the unmistakable press of hard nipples through two layers of cloth, and the way her hips rolled once, deliberately, against my instant erection.
We made it to the car. The second the doors shut she was on me, straddling my lap in the driver's seat, mouth devouring mine, hands already fumbling with my belt.
"I've been wet since Nagoya," she panted against my lips. "Three hours of sitting in my own mess thinking about you."
I shoved her dress up to her waist. No panties. Her thighs were slick all the way to the knee. I groaned and plunged two fingers into her; she was scalding, swollen, dripping with need.
"Drive," she ordered, voice shaking. "If you pull over I'll fuck you on the side of the highway and we'll both get arrested."
Somehow I got us onto the road. She stayed in the passenger seat, dress rucked up, legs spread, one foot on the dashboard while she touched herself and told me, in graphic detail, every fantasy she'd had on the train.
By the time we reached the apartment parking garage I was nearly blind with lust.
We didn't make it to the elevator.
I pushed her against the car hood, bent her forward over warm metal, and drove into her from behind in one brutal thrust. She cried out, loud enough that it echoed off concrete walls, but I didn't care anymore. Ten days without her had turned me into something feral.
I fucked her hard and fast, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping a heavy breast through the dress. The angle was perfect; every stroke dragged the head of my cock across that spot that made her sob.
"Come inside me right here," she begged. "I want to walk through your building with your cum running down my legs."
I slammed deep and exploded, hips jerking as I filled her again and again. She came with me, pussy spasming so hard I had to hold her up.
We stumbled to the apartment like that, half-dressed, her dress askew, my hand still up her skirt keeping my spend plugged inside.
The door had barely shut before she was on her knees in the genkan, sucking me clean, moaning at the taste of us mixed together.
Later, much later, we lay tangled on the living-room floor, sheets long since abandoned. She rode me slow, breasts swaying above my face, nipples red and swollen from my teeth.
"I lied to your father," she whispered, rolling her hips in that perfect circle that made my vision blur. "Told him I was visiting an old friend in Tokyo. He didn't even ask who."
I gripped her ass and thrust up hard. "You're not visiting a friend. You're coming home to get fucked by your son until you can't walk straight."
She laughed breathlessly and ground down, taking me to the root. "Ten days, Kenji. Ten whole days. I brought nothing but dresses with no panties and three bottles of the oil you like on my breasts."
I flipped us over, pinned her wrists above her head, and started a slow, punishing rhythm.
"Then we're not leaving this apartment," I growled against her throat. "I'm going to keep you naked, full, and dripping for the next week and a half."
She wrapped her legs around my waist and smiled like the devil herself.
"Promise?"
I sealed it with a kiss and another load buried so deep she'd feel me for days.
Outside, Tokyo kept moving.
Inside, time stopped.
Ten days.
We had ten days to make up for every second we'd ever lost.