Helping Mom Get Over It: Part One

The late summer heat clung to the suburban house like a second skin, the air thick and restless. Ethan sprawled on the living room couch, his lean frame slouched against the cushions, dark hair falling into his eyes. His phone glowed in his hand, the screen displaying a hypnosis app he’d downloaded on a whim—TranceMaster. Across from him, Rachel, his mother, fanned herself with a magazine, her blonde hair sticking to her neck. She wore a thin white tank top, no bra, her full tits straining the fabric, nipples poking through like a fucking invitation. Ethan tried not to stare, but his cock twitched anyway.

“Jesus, it’s too hot to breathe,” Rachel muttered, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. Her voice carried that post-divorce edge—half exhaustion, half longing. She shifted, her shorts riding up her thick thighs, and Ethan’s throat tightened.

“Yeah, it’s brutal,” he said, forcing his eyes back to his phone. He’d been jerking off to her for months—those curves, that husky laugh—ever since Dad fucked off with his secretary. Guilt gnawed at him, but the ache in his balls always won. “Hey, Mom, I found something that might help you relax.”

She arched a brow, skeptical but curious. “What, like yoga? I’m not bending over in this heat.”

“Nah, better.” He held up his phone, the app’s swirling logo pulsing. “It’s hypnosis. Supposed to chill you out, help you sleep. You’ve been tossing and turning all week.”

Rachel snorted, but her eyes softened. “You think I’m that desperate? What’s next, you gonna swing a pocket watch in my face?”

“Only if you want me to.” He grinned, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Come on, it’s legit. I read reviews—people swear by it. Just let me try, five minutes.”

She sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her tank top shifted, flashing a sliver of underboob, and Ethan’s dick pulsed harder. “Fine,” she said. “But if I start clucking like a chicken, you’re grounded.”

“Deal.” He stood, gesturing to the couch. “Lie back, get comfy.”

Rachel kicked off her flip-flops and stretched out, her body sinking into the cushions. The way her tits jiggled as she settled made Ethan’s mouth dry. She propped her head on a pillow, legs slightly parted, unaware of the wet spot he imagined blooming between her thighs. He sat beside her, close enough to smell her coconut lotion, and opened the app.

“Okay, just listen to me,” he said, his voice dropping low, mimicking the tutorials he’d skimmed. “Close your eyes, take a deep breath.”

She obeyed, her lashes fluttering shut. Her chest rose, those heavy breasts lifting, and Ethan gripped his phone tighter. “Good,” he murmured. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Feel the air moving, slow and easy.”

Rachel’s breathing steadied, her lips parting slightly. The app chimed softly, a rhythmic pulse like a heartbeat, and Ethan leaned closer. “Picture yourself floating,” he said, his tone smooth, hypnotic even to himself. “Like you’re on a raft, drifting on warm water. Everything’s heavy—your arms, your legs, your head. Let it all sink.”

Her brow smoothed, tension melting from her face. Ethan’s pulse quickened—he hadn’t expected it to work this fast. “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, then caught himself. “You’re doing great, Mom. Just keep drifting.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, barely audible. Her fingers twitched, then stilled, and Ethan’s eyes traced the curve of her neck, the sweat beading there. He could reach out, cup those tits, and she’d never know. His cock strained against his jeans, a damp spot spreading where precum leaked.

“Tell me how you feel,” he said, testing the waters.

“Warm,” she slurred, her voice thick, dreamy. “Heavy. Safe.”

Safe. The word hit him like a punch—his sweet, broken mom trusting him while he sat there, rock-hard, imagining her cunt wrapped around him. “Good,” he said, swallowing. “Now, let your mind go blank. Nothing but my voice. You hear me?”

“Yeah, Ethan,” she breathed, and the way she said his name—soft, needy—sent a jolt to his groin. He shifted, adjusting his dick, and glanced at the app. Step two: deepen the trance.

“Count backward from ten,” he instructed. “Slow, with me. Ten.”

“Ten,” she echoed, her lips glistening as she licked them.

“Nine.”

“Nine.” Her thighs rubbed together, a faint squirm, and Ethan’s breath hitched. Was she getting wet? He couldn’t tell, but the thought alone had him throbbing.

“Eight.”

“Eight.” Her voice grew softer, her body slumping deeper into the couch. By “five,” she was limp, a ragdoll under his control. Ethan’s heart pounded—he could do anything now. The app suggested planting a suggestion, something simple. But his mind screamed filth.

“Mom,” he said, voice husky, “when you hear my voice, you feel calm. Warm. A little… tingly. Like a buzz under your skin. Got it?”

“Tingly,” she repeated, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Her nipples hardened through the tank top, twin peaks begging to be sucked, and Ethan groaned inwardly.

“Yeah, tingly,” he rasped. “Every time I talk, it gets stronger. You like it, don’t you?”

“Mmm, yes,” she murmured, and her hand drifted to her stomach, fingers brushing the hem of her shorts. Ethan’s cock jumped—he was seconds from whipping it out and jacking off right there.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, too quiet for her to catch. He wanted to push further, tell her to strip, to beg for his dick, but a shred of sanity held him back. “Okay, time to wake up. Count up to five, slow. When you hit five, you’ll open your eyes, feeling good.”

“One,” she started, her voice gaining strength. “Two… three…”

Ethan watched, mesmerized, as her chest heaved with each number. At “five,” her eyes fluttered open, hazy but bright, and she blinked at him.

“Wow,” she said, sitting up, her tits bouncing. “That was… wild. I feel weirdly good.”

“Yeah?” He forced a grin, hiding the bulge in his lap with a cushion. “Told you it’d work.”

She stretched, arms overhead, her tank top riding up to expose her soft belly. “You’re a genius, kiddo. I haven’t felt this relaxed in months.”

“Anytime,” he said, his voice tight. “We can do it again tomorrow.”

“Deal.” She stood, swaying slightly, and padded toward the kitchen. “Want a soda?”

“Sure,” he called, watching her ass sway in those shorts. As she disappeared around the corner, he slumped back, hand sliding to his crotch. His dick was a steel rod, aching for release, and he squeezed it through the denim, replaying her moans in his head.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered, glancing at his phone. The app sat open, tempting him. Tomorrow, he’d push harder—deeper. He’d make her feel that tingle everywhere, especially between her legs. Guilt twisted in his gut, but the image of her squirming, wet and needy, drowned it out.

Ethan unzipped his jeans, freeing his cock, and stroked himself fast, imagining her lips around him, her cunt dripping for her own son. He came hard, cum splattering his shirt, and panted, staring at the ceiling. This was just the beginning.