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We both stayed still allowing the feeling of being locked together by my cock to envelope us. The she pushed back again slightly and I pushed forward. This was repeated over and over and the pace quickened and a rhythm was established. She sighed as she matched my thrusts and then crossed her arms and rested her head on her forearms. Her legs widened ever so slightly as she welcomed each thrust of my cock. "That's so good," she said softly as, again, I pushed my cock into her. "Oh, mom," was all I could say as I fucked her as she was bent over the kitchen bench. I was in total erotic bliss with my cock buried deeply inside her cunt, both of us moving backwards and forwards in an almost perfect rhythm. It was great sex. It was hot and sweaty sex. And, it was taboo sex. I though these things but didn't say them. How do you tell your mom she's a great fuck? ************* It was late on a summer Saturday afternoon that began with me and three buddies enjoying a few beers in my back yard. What had eventuated on that hot summer Saturday backyard birthday party changed my life and introduced me to the hidden desires and needs of my mature mom. Three of my close buddies were around to celebrate my 18th birthday, four days after the actual event. We were hanging in the back yard where a couple of old, heavy trunked trees shaded much of the yard and partly obstructed the back windows of the house from the grassy patch where we were relaxing a few outdoor chairs. A portable ice box was crammed with a case of beer heaped in slowly melting ice. A lemon tree was in the center of the grass, just a little off from where we were seated. Like the beer we were chilled, slowly swigging the beer and talking a whole lot of crap about our future, sex-filled, adventures we were anticipating in college. Liberated and lubricated by long neck cold beers, the conversation concentrated on two topics normal for boys on the cusp of manhood. Sex along with sports. The latter took up most of our spare time and it was what we talked about. At the back of the house, away from prying eyes we could, at least, enjoy a beer or two along with exaggerations of sex we hadn't had and sports successes that often alluded us. The trees meant none of us needed to go inside if we needed to piss. The wide branches of the lemon tree were more convenient and the other trees gave us privacy. Sometimes, as more bottles were drained, the stories and our imaginations expanded, far beyond reality. As the afternoon sun got hotter, we drained more bottles and the stories got wilder. It was all good fun, each knew the others were telling stories further down the road from reality - for both sex and sports.