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Debbie didn't have a problem with the way that Lyle drank his milk straight from the carton, or the fact that he had a bad habit of leaving his dirty dishes sitting around the house until she came and collected them.

He had a lot of small, bad habits, but they paled in comparison to those of his estranged father, and as a divorcee, Debbie was more than happy to pick up the pieces here and there to make sure she had some company, as the years went on.

Other than Lyle's bad habits, the years were being truly kind to her, now that she'd gotten out of her borderline abusive marriage...and when he wasn't busy leaving messes around the house or diligently studying for his classes, Lyle was actually very good help: he took care of mowing the lawn, kept the cars in running order, and any time there was a structural piece of the house in need of repair, he was on top of it.

He was like a younger version of his father, in that way: handy, but a bit aloof, and without so much unkind roughness around the edges.

There were plenty of other ways that Debbie had seen similarities between the two, but with his father far removed from the picture, Debbie was struggling, day by day, not to take note of the way her son was almost always shirtless around the home, and as a fully grown young man, he'd developed into every bit the handsome appearance that his father held before him.

It's okay to appreciate that he's handsome, Debbie had to remind herself on a near daily basis; more often than not, she'd toss a clean shirt from the laundry at him and remind him that he still lived under her roof and needed to follow her rules, but there was always a kind playfulness to the act.

She didn't want to push him away...but he was the one pushing her buttons with his piss-poor habits.

"Heads up!"

Coming in from his third run of the week, Lyle was dripping from head to toe, coated in sweat and the evidence of the summer heat. His hygiene wasn't quite as poor as his housekeeping habits, leaving the fresh scents of nature to mingle with his own aromas; Debbie could tell that he was back from his run before he declared his presence, and his arrival tickled her nostrils in the most delightful way.

The soaking fabric of his shirt slapping against the back of her head, on the other hand, was anything but pleasant...and the slow roll of the shirt as it fell down her back and landed on the floor proved to be the straw that she was trying so hard to avoid breaking.

"...Lyle, honey?"

He'd rushed right past his mother on his way in from the garage, into the laundry room: his body was demanding a little rehydration, and the fridge was calling his name before his mother was.

Her siren song, however, proved just as hard to resist...he simply didn't know if she was using her heavenly voice because she was pleased with him, or because he'd truly screwed something up.

"Yeah mom?" he asked, his voice as gruff and dismissive as ever.

He nearly spit out his sports drink as he stepped into the laundry room, getting more of an eyeful of her womanhood than he ever had before: her hips were rolling just slightly as she shifted her weight from side to side, pushing her backside and popping each cheek of her rump.

There was a t-shirt dangling behind her, as well...but somehow, that was lost in the details.

"You missed the washer, sweetie...and I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you've been missing it on purpose for the last...I dunno...ten, fifteen years?"

The fact that her backside was pushed out so firmly was no accident, and Lyle wasn't so foolish as to overlook the fact, but he'd never been propositioned by a woman with the level of experience his mother had.

He was used to the college party weekends: going out, getting so drunk that he wasn't quite sure who he was sleeping with, and if it went well, potentially grabbing dinner with them the next day before very likely never seeing them again.

Debbie was planning on seeing her son a lot more often, and at that, a lot more of him...but she wasn't going to push for the next step until Lyle's dangling jaw picked itself up and said something.

"I...uhm...I didn't see you there," he confessed, but he couldn't think of anything smooth to say: tall, athletic and handsome, he wasn't used to being challenged by much of anyone, but much less the women that he was used to going to bed with. "Sorry for hitting you with the t-shirt?"

Debbie let out a wistful sigh. "And here I was hoping that you'd done that on purpose to get my attention," she confessed, though the renamon didn't look all that disappointed, especially when she noticed a quick twitch in the middle of Lyle's shorts. "But I think what's worse is that I was bent over the washer, stripped down to my panties...and you didn't say a single word about it."

Lyle was a typical 20 something, often so busy with genuine tasks and so occupied with his own world that he missed out on little details here and there, but even before Debbie mentioned it, he felt a little silly for not noticing the string of her thong, hugging the curve of her hip and tugging a nearly meaningless patch of fabric into the grip of her folds.

Those warm, dripping petals were making a terrible mess of the crotch of her panties, and of course, Lyle knew better than to stare...but he couldn't help looking, knowing he'd be caught.

"I guess I didn't think you'd be doing the laundry...w-well, like that ," he admitted. "Should I have knocked before I came in?"

"No, that's fine...the garage door was open, after all," Debbie reminded him. "I'm just grateful that it wasn't a neighbor coming in to ask for a favor...someone that I couldn't necessarily trust."

Lyle was starting to get the point, but Debbie was still light-years ahead of him in terms of experience, and her approach was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

Her lifted tail would have been enough to leave him speechless, but the slow, teasing walk of her fingertips across her own ass forced his jaw to drop again; by the time those digits reached the crotch of her panties and fully revealed the soaking mound of her womanhood, her son was pitching a tent indoors and left at a genuine crossroads of what was best to do.

He felt as though he was living out a fantasy of his own, where a lusty, older woman saw him after a workout and was overcome by their sense of need, acting against all of their better judgment...and the raging, roiling testosterone that guided most of his decisions wasn't helping him make the right one, right then.

"You, uh...y-you know you can trust me not to say anything, mom," he assured her. The lack of confidence in his voice wasn't a matter of him not believing the words, but his inability to know what was the right thing to say: he never had to put this kind of thought into what he said before bedding someone, and his mind was still torn by seeing his mother as a partner.

This wasn't something that they'd done before, and wasn't the culmination of a pattern of teasing, building up over time. There were no hints, and very rarely did Debbie say anything to her son that could have been taken as untoward.

All at once, she was making it known that she'd seen him as a viable partner: how long she'd felt that way was a mystery to him, and how long she'd been planning to take him like this, he couldn't possibly know.

It could have been as simple as her frustrations with his habits manifesting in a sexual release...and the more he thought it over, the less resistance he had to the idea.

"I'm not worried about what you're going to say, Lyle. No one would believe you if you said your mother bent over the washer for you and invited you to fuck her."

Lyle could only nod at such a piercing line.

"What I'm worried about," she continued, letting her fingers press to her pouted, eager petals, "Is what kind of man I raised...and what you're going to do with perhaps the only opportunity you'll ever get to prove your worth to me like this."

Those digits spread away from each other slowly, revealing a warm, webbed spread of juices amid an opening of eager, heated pink.

The younger renamon was utterly overwhelmed by his mother's approach, but seeing a sight like that, it was a miracle he hadn't already jumped out of his shorts and taken his place behind her.

"But you're-

"Your mother, yes."

"And what about dad?"

"What about him?"

Should have seen that answer coming, he thought. But...you can't fuck your own mom, dude...you just can't! It doesn't matter that she's in heat...oh. Oh shit; she's in heat.

The scent was one that he'd known in other women before: every single one was just slightly different, but there was no mistaking the arousal that had filled the air.

He'd been taught to ignore it when that delicate aroma tinted the air, whether it was from Debbie, or from his sister; he was rather talented at giving himself other things to do, and leaving the house to go for a run was a distraction that had never failed him before.

Having just come back from one, with his body looking for _anything_to release the tension that was building up, he wondered if he would have been able to say no to her if that delicious bouquet wasn't tickling at his muzzle.

If he was willing to get close enough to it, he was afraid of what the final outcome would be, but...he was a simple man of simple pleasures, and right then, he knew how horny he was.

He knew how horny his own mother was, thanks to the obvious signals, but perhaps the only thing more obvious than that was the fact that she should have turned to any other man in the world to get her fix.

"You smell just like him, you know," Debbie broke the moment of silence, seeing that Lyle was coming a little closer, even if he didn't want to admit that his legs were moving. "A little sweeter, perhaps, and much stronger...but maybe you're better than he was in other ways I hadn't considered?"

Normally, Lyle wouldn't have wanted to be compared to another man right before the peak of the action, but in this instance, whatever part of his mind would abide the experience in the first place wasn't allowing him to swirl his toes in the water.

The kinkiest part of his thoughts, driven by an overwhelming surge of arousal and the scent of his mother's heat, was pushing him into the deep end of the incestuous pool and keeping him there until he learned to swim...and if he failed, Debbie would be more than happy to teach him the basics.

"Not that I have anything to compare it to, but...I sure hope I'm better than he is if you're even looking at me that way," Lyle admitted, finding some of his stride as he appeared to approach the older renamon...but he walked right past her, proving that he was just as capable of teasing as he was being teased. "In all the years he was around, I don't think I ever caught you looking at him like that."

Debbie was already rubbing the hood of her clit when Lyle appeared to pass and ignore her again, but he was just closing the interior door of the garage: he knew that, once the gloves came off, he wouldn't be able to take back the things he was going to say...and the whole neighborhood didn't need to hear him screaming aloud about how much he loved fucking his own mother.

As for Debbie herself, he didn't know if it was genuine passion for her, or a reaction to her heated scent, but he wanted his words to echo in her ears until she was tired of them.

"Only one way to look at you when I have to look back over my shoulder," she reminded him. "But if you'd rather I turn around so I can look into your eyes while you fuck me..."

She was going out on a limb: she didn't have a proper answer from him yet, and she wasn't so desperate that she'd consider the sight of his erection to be consent.

Debbie knew what was at stake just by dropping her panties in front of him in the first place, and there was far more to be worried about if he changed his mind, now that she'd given such an obvious and undeniable invitation.

To finally feel the stroking palm of her son, gliding across her rump and touching flesh that he was never meant to touch...it was a thrill that neither one of them could properly describe, no matter how inspired they were.

"...Tell me I'm not alone right now," Debbie whispered, "In...f-feeling that..."

Her pawtips eased back out of her womanhood and revealed that warm, eager part to her son once more, but he was taking his time with the experience, as if he believed that an old woman deserved to be romanced and treated.

Incidentally, he was taking things a little too slowly for her, even if she appreciated his intent.

"The tingle in my fingers? Trust me, I...I f-feel it too," Lyle confessed, struggling to believe that there could be so much genuine emotion and passion in the act of incest. "I really can't...I just can't believe what I'm about to do, Mom..."

"Do you want to do it?"

"More than I should."

"Do you think you'll regret it?"

"Only one way to find out, I guess."

"Then stop worrying," she urged him on, pushing her breasts down into the top of the washer and spreading her legs a little wider for him. "And stop stalling...because it's very rude to keep a lady waiting."

Debbie raised Lyle to respect all women: he'd always done his best at it, even in the moments where temptation was strongest.

He wasn't the kind of guy to take advantage of a woman, and even less so if he thought she wasn't in her right of mind to make such heavy decisions...but right then, he realized what kind of gravity there was riding on the end of his member.

He'd been flippant in sleeping with some women before, but there was always clear consent, and they'd simply carried on with their lives; every single time, he'd permanently changed his relationship with those people, and no matter what Debbie said, he knew better than to think of the act as something casual or passing.

Fingertips gripped the full, supple flesh of her ass and squeezed it, releasing an instant wealth of endorphins in the younger renamon and giving him reason to stand right behind her, allowing his other paw to settle against the other cheek and spread it.

The bliss of squeezing her tender bodice and revealing the tight, subtle wink of her tailhole was such a powerful experience that the sheer lust he felt should have driven his cock into her...

...But he'd gotten into his own head so deeply that he'd forgotten to take off his shorts.

"I know you younger guys are into some weird, kinky stuff," Debbie murmured, "But I'm pretty sure you still can't fuck someone without taking your shorts off..."

She'd finally teased him enough to bring out the bull, but she knew she was more than capable of dealing with his horns.

She was desperate to take the proverbial bull for a ride.

"Having second thoughts, baby?"

"...Just thinking I should probably learn to do my own laundry, one of these days," he suggested, as he regretfully pulled his palms from her ass...but his thumbs were quick to push those shorts out of the way of their continued folly. "So something like this doesn't happen again..."

Debbie would have asked him what he meant, if he hadn't sneakily eased the tip of his uncovered cock between her petals in the middle of his statement.

"Only going to indulge me once, kiddo?"

Her motherly nature was more of a turn on than he wanted to accept, and judging by the sheer force in his throbbing length, he didn't need anymore arousal to give his mother one hell of a bucking...but knowing that a willing partner was waiting just down the hall was an odd thing for him to even consider.

Taking her advice and running with it, he didn't keep her waiting any longer...but he'd have a lot to unpack, when he was done packing his length into her.

"Not quite what I meant, Mom..."

His response wasn't quite what she expected, but she knew her boy to be a noncommittal person, as far as relationships were concerned: he'd never brought a girl home, at least, not when she was around or awake to know about it.

She could tell with a single thrust that he wasn't a virgin, but still, feeling his impressive length into her, she couldn't help feeling something more profound than she had with any other lover before, including the very man who helped her to create him.

"If you're unsure about it, just...ju-

"Lyle?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Pound that fucking cock into me so hard that the neighbors will feel like they need a cigarette when we're done."

She knew she'd already appealed to his physical sensibilities: Debbie was aging gracefully, and she'd always had just a little extra up top and in the back to keep Lyle's younger, perverted eyes trained on her...but when he went off to college and found the wiles of younger women were so easy to capture, she worried that she'd finally lost his affection.

This wasn't the way that she intended to recapture it, but feeling his sack slap against her inner thighs as he finally put his heart into the act as much as his libido...she came to understand why he was so popular around the local campus.

"Now t-that's a bit more like it, Lyle," she encouraged him, wondering if he needed more of that motherly touch to give her what she needed. "A little harder, and you might...j-just might knock the washer off kilter..."

"Not that I've ever heard you complain about that."

Her son was certainly full of surprises, but that was the greatest one of all.

"...You...you didn't j-

"You really didn't do the best job of hiding the toy that you keep in the basket up there," he claimed, snickering a bit and leaning his sweaty form a little further into her own. "And it was always a little...f-fucking weird to me that it would thump around, and then stop...a-and then, I'd hear it just a little bit...like someone was riding it."

The long lists of kinks that Lyle was hiding from his mother was threatening to come out, but the old trope of a woman riding a vibrating washing machine wasn't just a trope, in that household.

For the first time since she'd accosted him, Debbie was the one feeling a little bit bashful, but being caught in the act by her son like that, and knowing that he kept it a secret, she couldn't help a wider grin spreading over her lips.

"So you've known your mother has had certain kinds of needs all this time," she mentioned, "And you didn't once think to come down and help her?"

Lyle blinked. "Well when you say it like that-

"When I say it like that, it sounds like you're gonna be fucking me a few times today, baby...you've got some lost time to make up for!"

Spreading her own backside again and ruffling the fur upon her rump, Debbie was delighted to feel Lyle gripping her supple flesh once more and holding onto it with new intention: the taboo of the moment wasn't dissolved just yet, and every step of the way, things would be just a little awkward...

...But if the drool running down her cheek was any indication, Debbie was perfectly fine with feeling a little strange, if the by-product was feeling that much pleasure.

"...Is it bad if I like the sound of that, Mom?"

Debbie snickered, but on the backside of things, her fingers reached out and stroked over Lyle's own, wanting him to know that her lust was giving way just enough for her cooler head to prevail, even if it was only for a moment.

"We'll work out if this is good or bad when you're done cumming inside of me, baby."

"Oh, t-thank the gods..."

Lyle was used to sleeping with all manner of creatures on the campus, and there were plenty of girls who'd given him more than a night to remember, but he couldn't remember the last time he felt like a completely overwhelmed, genuine virgin...and more than that, his mother's inner workings were skilled beyond anything he'd ever experienced before.

Even the first of his slow, easy thrusts were bringing him right to the edge of his release, but when he leaned into his mother and gave her the pace that they were both yearning for, he had to clench the svelte musculature of his abdomen to keep from filling her up, then and there.

"So you're f-finally admitting it, baby?" she asked, pushing her legs back enough that she could throw her rump into his hips...and could she ever do that. "That you wanna fuck your mommy...?"

That may have been a step too far in the mothering direction, but not for the reason Lyle initially thought.

At first, it sounded a little awkward, but his body clearly had different ideas, as a fresh gush of precum spilled from the tip of his length, and a surge of pleasure ran up through his groin.

"Fuuuuuck...mom...I...I d-didn't know it could ever feel like this!" he confessed, gripping her hips with renewed vigor and trying to hold her still as he hammered into her body. "How are y-you even doing t-that...inside...ohfuckI'mgonnacum-

"Mommy's little secret," she snuck in the words, milking his cock in such a way that no girl his age had ever come close to replicating. "And if you r-really like it that much, that can be our little secret, Lyle..."

"Oh...o-oh fuck... please...please let it be..."

Running three miles wasn't an easy task, no matter how well trained a body was. Lyle was in the peak of his physical ability, but he felt like he couldn't draw a full breath, or hold onto one for more than an instant without panting and whimpering his mother's name.

If they hadn't locked the door, there would be no secret about how much he loved pumping into her, and for her part, Debbie was absolutely loving the rapid, vigorous endurance that her son displayed; he was so quick to take a nap on the couch after a jog that she never expected him to have that much energy left, but when his seed finally erupted inside of her and soothed the warmth in her womb, she was amazed to feel his hips still driving into her backside.

"Such a good boy...saying please and thank you, just the way I raised him," she praised his efforts and nuzzled her face into the washer, finding her own form of purchase as her tail curled around his lower back, keeping him right where he was. "It's already s-starting to leak back out, baby...guess we're gonna have to throw those shorts in the wash too, aren't we?"

Doing the laundry was going to take on more new meanings than Lyle could possibly imagine, but right then, as their mingled juices spilled down from his sack and dripped to the puddle of his shorts, he only cared about making as big of a mess as possible; he was proud that he'd made so much that her womanhood couldn't contain it.

"You said we had to m-make up for lost time, didn't you? Can't...c-can't keep my mom waiting..."

Her claws raked over the edge of the washing machine as she braced herself, feeling her own son find another gear with his hips and pummel into her eager, pouted folds, starting the second round without a break and kicking it off at a higher pace than she'd ever felt from another lover.

"Well said, baby..."