The bank doors hissed shut behind them. Ed, 28, his pulse hammering, guided his mother Ella by the elbow into the narrow alley beside the building. The confession had just spilled out on the porch—his years of hidden hunger for her.

"Ed, what are you—" Ella stammered, her dark hair framing a face flushed with confusion. She was a slender vision in her crisp white shirt and tight black pencil skirt, sheer stockings whispering with every step.

"No talking," Ed growled, his voice thick with need. He backed her into the shadowed corner, brick scraping her back. His hands were firm on her shoulders. "You heard me. Now you know what I want."

Her eyes were wide, but a dark curiosity flickered in them. He saw it. Without another word, he applied pressure. "On your knees, Mom."

A shaky breath escaped her lips, fogging in the cool air. Slowly, she sank, the nylon of her stockings catching on the rough concrete. Her skirt rode up, revealing the taut bands of her garter straps.

Ed unzipped his jeans, freeing his hard, thick cock. It sprang out, already leaking pre-cum. "Open," he commanded, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Ella’s lips parted. He didn't wait. Guiding his swollen head, he pushed past her lips, feeling the incredible wet heat of her mouth. A muffled gasp vibrated around his shaft.

"Yeah, just like that," he grunted, beginning to move. He started slow, watching his length disappear between her glossed lips. Her tongue tentatively swirled around his tip, then flattened as he pushed deeper.

"