We did it. I feel so wrong

I spent a good portion of yesterday out. I wanted to get some air and have some time alone to think things through.
When I got home that afternoon we had a talk. I told my mom I wasn’t attracted to her. She said she understood, and repeated what she’d said the other day. She wanted this to be a one time only thing, just to make her feel like a “woman” again.
I asked her why me. She told me after so long without any relationship I was the only man she felt comfortable around. I offered to help her with online dating (thanks for that suggestion, whoever). She agreed.
But, she said, AFTER tonight. She wanted to go all the way with me first.
Seeing how persistent Mom was, and realizing how awkward this must be for her as well as me…I relented. But I insisted this was the last time.
Mom brightened up considerably, and we actually had a great Christmas dinner, having cleared everything up.
It wasn’t long before, a few drinks in, Mom got touchy feely again. I returned her affections the best I could, half-stripping each other. I was counting on the alcohol to help get me hard. It didn’t.
I went down on her again. I made her cum, but I still couldn’t get hard.
Okay. Viagra. I suggested we get some. Mom agreed, but offered to go buy it, telling me to sit tight. “Get ready for me,” she said. She stood up and grabbed her purse, pointedly leaving her panties on the couch and wiggling her ass as she left for the garage, showing off to me that she was bottomless. I felt a chill down my spine.
I grabbed my laptop and another bottle of wine, going through some porn, trying to get that mental image out of my head. When Mom came back, she was pleasantly surprised to see me finally erect.
“Good boy,” she purred sweetly in a honeyish tone that I’d never heard her use before. My mother was trying to be seductive with me. I tried to ignore how disturbed it made me.
I took the viagra as Mom straddled me, grinding her dripping wet pussy on my cock. I closed my eyes as she started making out with me, trying to imagine it was the woman from the porn video instead. I felt breasts up against my neck as she leaned on me. I felt her fingers wrap around my cock as she guided me toward her. I felt the tip of my cock pushing through the lips of her pussy. I imagined a different woman on top of me as my mother finally lowered herself, and I entered her for the first time.
I kept my eyes closed, trying to just focus on how good it felt as the woman rode me, bucked on top of me, frantically kissed my forehead, my face, my lips. I imagined it was someone else whispering into my ears how good she felt, how much of a good boy I was being.
It worked. I felt myself getting close. I grabbed her ass. I couldn’t help it. I also couldn’t help my hips bucking upward, thrusting into her as I came. I opened my eyes, and found myself gazing into my mother’s loving eyes as I shot load after load into her. No! No! No! a voice in the back of my head screamed. Everything was wrong.
Mom locked lips with me. Buzzed, and still on the coital high, I returned her kiss. Tasting her lips, her mouth, her tongue. I was still cumming. Mom’s perfume, her familiar smell oppressed me.
I was still hard. Mom kept riding me as we made out, until I came inside her again. Then again. I stopped responding to her affections. Reality had hit again. My own mother was having sex with me. This was wrong.
Mom looked disappointed. “What’s wrong? Is it because you’re looking at me?”
It must’ve been Mom’s suggestion, but I found myself upstairs standing at the foot of her bed, my mother on all fours pointing her ass up at me. Every voice in my head was protesting, but my body moved on its own, grabbing my mother’s ass, sliding my still-erect cock back into her, and thrusting angrily.
I wasn’t fucking my mother. I was going at some faceless woman doggystyle. It wasnt my mother moaning to the rhythm of my thrusts. It wasn’t my mother crying out in pleasure. It wasn’t my mother calling my name over and over again. It wasn’t my mother begging me to fill her up. It wasn’t!
I don’t know how many times I came inside her. I slumped on top of her, exhausted, and she slid over to make room for me in her bed.
I was still hard. Mom crawled half on top of me and started rubbing my cock, trying to gaze into my eyes. I turned my head. I couldn’t look at her. Just lie there tired, limp as she coaxed my last orgasm out of me.
“You’ve been so good, baby,” mom whispered. Her breath tickeled my ear. “My baby boy.”
I fell asleep in my mother’s arms.
I woke up this morning to my mother 69ing me, cleaning me up with her mouth, her ass in my face, the smell of her pussy stifling me. I couldn’t help myself. I came again.
Mom snuggled back up to me, trailing her finger on my chest. I lay there, letting her caress me, whisper into my ear how amazing that night was, how good I was for doing this for her, how much she loved me. How hard I had fucked her…how sore she was starting to feel…how she wanted me to make love to her next time.
I realized she wanted there to be a next time. I wondered if she had, from the beginning, wanted there to be a next time.
“I’m going to take a shower. Join me?” She said.
I said no. A flash of disappointment across her face, but she conceded.
I lay there limply to the sound of the shower next door, the faint sounds of my mother singing to herself. I think I was in shock.
I was still there when Mom came out. “Your turn, honey. Take your time. Mommy will have breakfast ready for you.”
I washed myself, the events of last night fully hitting me. I felt a wave of guilt and shame. This was so wrong. What we did was so wrong.
Mom was still being flirty at breakfast, her loose bathrobe completely failing to conceal her naked body underneath. She caressed my cheek after she served me food. Against my will I got hard. Mom noticed and giggled. She trailed her finger down across my shoulder as she walked off, a spring in her step, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I don’t know what to do. I feel so ashamed, so wrong. I made my mom happy, but it seems like I killed something important to do it. We crossed a line. There’s no going back. And it seems like it wasn’t enough. She wants more.

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