Morning light filtered through the lace curtains, painting golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Elena woke first, nestled against Ethan's chest—his arm heavy around her waist, morning wood pressing insistently against her ass. She smiled, grinding back slowly, teasing.
He stirred with a low groan, hand sliding up to cup her breast. "Morning, Mom."
The taboo word sparked heat between her thighs. She rolled over, straddling him, guiding his cock inside her still-slick pussy. They fucked slow and lazy—deep rolls of her hips, his thumbs circling her nipples. No rush. Just the wet sounds of reunion and whispered filth.
"Love waking up full of you," she murmured, clenching around him.
Ethan thrust up sharply. "Gonna keep you that way all summer."
She came first—soft, shuddering, biting his shoulder to stay quiet. He followed, pumping her full again, kissing her through the aftershocks.
They dozed, tangled and sated.
Until the doorbell rang.
Elena bolted upright. "Shit. That's Linda's ring—three short bursts."
Ethan's eyes widened. "Again?"
She scrambled out of bed, come trickling down her thighs. "Quick—your room. I'll handle her."
He grabbed his clothes, pausing to kiss her hard. "Save some for later."
Elena threw on a sundress—no bra, no panties, the fabric clinging to her curves—and raced downstairs. She cracked the door.
Linda stood there with a bakery bag and two coffees. "Morning! Thought I'd bring breakfast. We need to talk about last night." Her eyes were sharp, knowing.
Elena's stomach flipped. "Talk? Sure, come in."
They settled in the living room—Linda on the couch, Elena perched opposite, legs crossed tight to hide the wetness seeping from her.
Linda sipped her coffee. "I couldn't sleep. Kept thinking about those towels. And the lights were off, but… I don't know. You seemed flushed."
Elena laughed it off. "Hot flashes. Perimenopause is a bitch."
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked. Both women looked up.
Linda frowned. "Ethan still asleep?"
"Dead to the world," Elena said quickly.
They chatted—weather, town gossip. Elena's phone buzzed on the table: a text from Ethan. *Pantries are for more than food.*
Her core clenched. *Bad boy.*
Another creak—closer this time. Footsteps on the stairs.
Linda glanced over. "Thought he was asleep."
Elena stood. "I'll check. Probably getting water. Refill your coffee?"
She escaped to the kitchen, heart racing. Ethan was there—shirtless, jeans unbuttoned, leaning against the pantry door with a wicked grin.
"You're insane," she hissed.
He yanked her inside the walk-in pantry, pulling the door almost shut—leaving a two-inch gap. Shelves of canned goods and dry pasta surrounded them. Dim light from the kitchen window.
"Need you," he growled, spinning her to face the shelves. He hiked her dress up, fingers finding her soaked. "Fuck, you're dripping my come."
She braced her hands on a shelf, arching back. "Quiet. She's twenty feet away."
He freed his cock—rock hard—and rubbed the head through her folds. "That's what makes it hot."
He pushed in slow—inch by torturous inch—stretching her deliciously. Elena bit her lip to stifle a moan.
Then voices—Linda calling: "Elena? Everything okay?"
Ethan froze, buried balls-deep.
Elena's pussy clenched involuntarily. "Fine!" she called back, voice higher than normal. "Just… grabbing creamer!"
Linda's footsteps approached the kitchen.
Ethan pulled back almost out—then slammed home hard. Elena's knees buckled. Jars rattled on the shelf.
"Need help finding it?" Linda asked, now in the doorway.
"No!" Elena gasped—half from Ethan's thumb circling her clit. "Got it!"
Ethan started thrusting—shallow, silent pumps, grinding against her G-spot. His free hand clamped over her mouth.
Linda opened a cabinet. Cups clinked. "You sure? You sound out of breath."
"Allergies," Elena managed, muffled against Ethan's palm. Her eyes watered as he sped up—wet sounds barely masked by Linda humming.
Close call 1: Linda turned toward the pantry. Elena saw her shadow through the gap. Ethan didn't stop—fucked her harder, daring.
Linda paused, then went back to the coffee maker.
Elena came silently—pussy spasming, squirting down her thighs. Ethan growled low in her ear, biting her neck to stay quiet.
But he wasn't done.
He pulled out, spun her around, and dropped to his knees. Tongue diving into her creamy folds—lapping his own come mixed with hers. Elena's hands fisted his hair, legs shaking.
"Elena?" Linda called again. "I'm coming to help."
Footsteps—heading straight for the pantry.
Close call 2: Ethan stood fast, shoving Elena behind him just as the door swung open.
Linda stared—at Ethan's bare chest, messy hair. "Oh! You're up."
He blocked the view perfectly. "Morning, Aunt Linda. Just grabbing cereal."
Linda's eyes narrowed at the obvious bulge in his jeans. "You okay? You look… flushed too."
"Bad dreams," he deadpanned.
Elena stayed hidden in the shadows, dress askew, thighs slick.
Linda bought it—for now. "Well, come join us when you're decent."
Door closed.
Ethan locked it this time—there was a slide bolt inside. He pinned Elena to the wall, lifting one leg over his hip and slamming back inside.
"No more interruptions," he promised.
He fucked her raw—deep, punishing strokes that rattled shelves. Pasta boxes tumbled. Her back scraped wood as she met every thrust.
"Gonna come again," she whimpered.
"Do it. Soak me while she drinks coffee ten feet away."
Close call 3: Linda knocked on the pantry door. "Kids? Coffee's getting cold!"
They froze—Ethan mid-thrust, cock pulsing inside her.
"Coming!" Elena yelled—voice cracking as her orgasm hit anyway, walls milking him desperately.
Ethan thrust once, twice—then exploded, flooding her deep.
They panted, foreheads together.
"Be right out!" Ethan called casually.
Linda's footsteps retreated.
He pulled out slowly, watching his come drip from her swollen pussy. "Fix your dress, Mom. We've got breakfast to eat."
Elena smoothed her hair, legs wobbling. "You're going to kill me."
He smirked. "Worth it."
They emerged separately—Ethan first, casual as hell. Elena a minute later, carrying creamer like nothing happened.
Linda watched them over her coffee, eyes flicking between mother and son. The air smelled faintly of sex. Elena's cheeks were glowing. Ethan's jeans still tented slightly.
"Everything… okay?" Linda asked slowly.
"Perfect," Elena said, sitting gingerly—feeling every drop of her son inside her.
But Linda's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then at them. "Interesting. My neighbor across the street swears she saw movement in your upstairs window last night. Late."
Ethan choked on his coffee.
Elena's blood ran cold.
Linda smiled—too sweet. "We really should catch up more. I'll be back tomorrow. Same time?"
**[To be continued…]**