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That night wasn't the first that Mirror and her son Smoke (who were all too aware of their pun names) had been left alone and unsupervised by their trainer. He was off with his girlfriend, and he tasked them with keeping the apartment safe. That was something of an inside joke; nobody could get past the Machamp in the lobby if they were of a mind to break in anyway. The mother and son Zoroarks took their task lightly and spent much of their time practicing their illusions, with Mirror coaching her boy in the art of such deceptions. When that diversion grew boring, they just resorted to watching TV.

It was very late, close to midnight. Both of them were tired, and in fact, Smoke was already sprawled back on the couch and lightly snoring. Mirror resisted the pull of sleep a while longer, eager to see if the teenage girl in the Midnight Monster Movie of the week would fend off the mutant Beedrill menace or be stung to death like her boyfriend. These pulpy films had been a guilty indulgence of hers for years, beginning back when she was just a Zorua.

A cop-out ending and bad dialogue left Mirror sulking on the couch, arms crossed. She glanced at Smoke, intending to wake him up, maybe coax him into fetching a snack for his mother. Although he was sleeping like a rock, one part of him was very much awake, and the mother with her subtly grayed snout and mature, discerning eyes looked away modestly. Curiosity and the fact that she'd not been laid since Smoke's conception made her slowly turn back at him with an unflinching eye.

Smoke was an obnoxiously heavy sleeper, and even once he was woken up, he had the stunning tendency to assess his situation with one bloodshot eye and promptly go back to sleep. Mirror, beginning to smile, and indeed knowing exactly how naughty she was about to be, leaned near her snoozing offspring and set her paw on his scrotum, nestled between his lazy legs. He exhaled; squirmed. Mirror drew a tight breath; kept her paw where it was. When Smoke relaxed, so did Mirror.

Touching her son was wrong. Rubbing up against him and holding him as a mother should was one thing, but this was sexual, like how they sometimes touched themselves in privacy or when they saw their trainer play with his special toys. It wasn't wrong in all those circumstances, but between a mother and her son? That was rotten to its core.

Mirror mulled over the moral quandary, keeping her paw on his soft balls. She felt the delicate movement of blood running through his veins, noting with a smile how his body breathed with his pulse. He so resembled her late mate when he'd been in his breeding prime. Her smile widening at its edges, beginning to split and show teeth, she slid her fingers up across his balls and against the grain of fur on his sheath. Her digits bumped the bulb of his knot, and she traced around it.

Her boy's shaft was hot to the touch - just as she'd expected it to be. It reminded her of the warmth of her old mate and memories came flooding back. Lustful nostalgia saw her touch herself without looking down; she was wet and a little swollen.

She leaned over him and gave his penis a delicate sniff. That was all she gave it; the thought of licking or (goodness, no) sucking on it was just too vulgar... but the scent was a mesmerizing thing, delicious to her trained nose, and much like other things, reminiscent of her former mate. The smile turned dreamy and she straightened herself up. Her vulva left a smear on the sofa cushion.

Positioning herself over Smoke was precarious, but then, Mirror prided herself on being graceful and swift. In the end, however, she settled for a fairly standard position: straddling her handsome son, taking care not to jostle his body too much.

Canine and pointed, the tip of Smoke's sleek red rocket felt perfect to Mirror, notching in the swell of her black pussylips. A bead of her moisture rolled down his shaft; an omen of greater things. The worry that her son might not appreciate being ridden by his mother echoed somewhere in the back of her mind, but the concern proved far-off and unlikely to be heeded, and besides that, she had caught him sniffing around her. One home-alone evening when the movie was dull and she had fallen asleep first, Smoke had masturbated not a foot from her; she awoke part of the way through, shifted and huffed to give him the chance to hide his perversion without being formally caught, but he continued. And so she had pretended to sleep. Yes, Mirror thought, smiling and easing herself down. My boy wouldn't mind this in the least.

One inch passed the loving swell of her cuntlips; two inches; three. Smoke squirmed and swallowed. His feet brushed against the cushions. Mirror watched with a held breath as he turned his head, and smacked his lips... and resumed his lazy drone. So did Mirror begin breathing again.

The thrill of exposure added to the pleasure and the precariousness. Mirror lowered herself more and more on stout, toned legs. Four inches, five inches, six - and now the knot put pressure on her vulva. Again Smoke shifted, but this time, instead of calming, he huffed softly in his rest. It wasn't difficult for Mirror to imagine the kind of dreams he was presently having; could they possibly involve his finely-aged, graying mother? She flattered herself when she considered it.

She was savoring that self-indulgent thought as she started to ride. It was a matter of utter precision for her to be sure she didn't wake her boy. Up and down she went, riding smoothly, quickly, never letting her pelvis touch his - but her muff did bump the bulb of his knot. Her snatch oozed down his meat, lubricating red flesh, making it gleam in the lone glow of the television. She gripped the backrest of the couch tightly for support.

Smoke whimpered in his rest. His toes had started to curl. Precum was oozing from him at a steady rate, adding to his mother's moisture. In his dream, it wasn't mom but the pretty Vulpix living with the nice old lady next door. The smell of the little fox's heat always wafted to him through the vents and under the doors and it proved to be the catalyst for many nights of lonesome masturbation. It was that sweet foxy thing who was bouncing on his dick as far as he was concerned.

Mirror watched with mounting delight as her son's unconscious face took on shades of bliss. His tongue lolled out and little twitches of a smile sparked at the corners of his mouth. He squirmed, crooned, and whimpered. Mirror rode him harder, daring to let her pussy rest hard on his knot. Her vulva squished, deforming before it began to spread. Pressure was put upon her clit, hard-to-see but definitely there; she clenched her jaws tight to keep from moaning aloud.

Sensations of pleasure wracked the mother's body as well as the son's. Her legs were beginning to tremble both from such a difficult position and repetitive motion, and the pleasure wasn't helping. Smoke showed no signs of stirring, but he squirmed beneath her and once absently pushed his hips up, doing little but meeting his mother's vulva second sooner.

A new conundrum was taking up Mirror's thoughts - to knot or not? Her boy was a dense sleeper, but could he sleep through that? And suppose he awoke while her loins were still stuck to his? Mirror didn't like this line of thought; it made her question what she was doing in the first place. She would take her boy's knot as was expected of her, and that would be final.

Over and over and over, Mirror's spongy, fat muff patted her boy's knot. Each drop caused her vulva to smooch on that fat bulb, and the wet, lewd noises emerging from the ride only added to the analogy. She observed in the flickering, bluish light the changes in her son's dreaming expression. Pleasure notwithstanding, he was incredibly handsome. She wanted to stroke him, nuzzle his muzzle, lick his jowls and drag him into a kiss. She only narrowly resisted.

Equal feelings of guilt, lust and love boiled up in Mirror. She was in love with her boy in more than one way then, and she wanted nothing more than his seed. So she pushed against him, chancing the pressure that could awaken him. She pushed and wiggled, foregoing her bounces to try and cheat his knot into her. Her honey ran thick around him, making him slippery and hot. There was no time like the present.

As Smoke puffed and whined, Mirror achieved that perfect closeness with him; her fat, mature cunt engulfed his slick knot with a muted suck, and she nearly fell on him as the pleasure and pain peaked. The former remained as the latter fast waned, and she rolled back her eyes and grunted through clenched jaws.

Mirror huffed and squirted on her son. Much of this moisture escaped, wetting his loins and making a spot on the couch which would be a mystery for years to come. Her pink inner flesh gulped and kneaded him, building up his hazy Vulpix dream into a wonderful peak. He gasped, and uttered a soft cry when he came into his mother, filling her with a virile mess.

The worry that she'd just been impregnated by her son fought for Mirror's attention, but her orgasm and that wonderful full sensation she was feeling gave it stiff competition. Her trainer lamented how likely it was that she was past her breeding age; maybe he was right. Fretting over it, however, was just distracting enough that the graceful vixen let her balance falter. In reflex, she flinched and flailed, and saw with agonizing clarity as her paw came down on Smoke's breast, swatting him and pushing him down with her weight. She shoved off of him and diligently straightened herself again, hoping against common sense that such a rude jostling wouldn't wake him.

Smoke snorted awake a full second after his mother pushed off of him. He opened his eyes, bleary and lame, and seemed unaware of his situation. The living room was of course dark, save for the television currently showing schlock horror movies, turned down so far as to be unintelligible to his sleepy ears.

The mother Zoroark stared down at her son, praying he wouldn't notice the fact that his erection was presently lodged in her. He did eventually roll his dozy eyes onto her. A humorous specter of recognition flashed across his face, growing swiftly into a wide-eyed and dumb gape.

Mirror grinned sheepishly, blushing bright red. She leaned down low and bumped her nose into Smoke's. Though her snout was grinning, her eyes were worried, and begging for forgiveness already.

But Smoke had always loved his mother. He had intuited that she was awake and aware that night so long ago that he'd jerked off staring at her bottom and her naked vulva; this only confirmed something he'd suspected for years. He licked her lips and wrapped his arms around her. All was forgiven in that simple gesture.

Shivering with pleasure and love, Mirror squeezed her boy and nestled in close to him. She hadn't felt so loved and fulfilled since she'd conceived him.