Brushing Mom's Hair

"Cliff, you said you would," Mom complained. "It has to be brushed out tonight o r it won't be right for tomorrow." Mom shook her heavy mane of hair, the red hig hlights glinting against the background of her rich brown locks. "I know, Emily," Dad acknowledged, "but ning." Dad waved the papers in his hand e toward the stack occupying the coffee o LA and this got dumped on me. I can't

I have to get this done for tomorrow mor at Mom, finishing with a sweeping gestur table in front of him. "Bill had to go t help it."

"That's just great. You know what my hair is like. I'll look like a flathead, an d it's the biggest fundraiser of the year. Not that you care." Mom turned on her heel and walked quickly away. Though she didn't stomp, it was clear from her deliberate tread that she wasn't happy. Exasperated and already s tressed, Dad muttered something under his breath and settled back into his paper s. I left for the kitchen, ostensibly to make myself some hot chocolate but just as much to escape. I made a couple of extra mugs, one for each of my parents an d carried a tray into the living room, offering one to my Dad. "Oh, thanks Mike. Did you make one for your Mom?" I nodded at the two mugs left on the tray. "Good boy. Look, can you do me a favor and brush her hair for her. You know how she is about her hair." "Sure Dad." "Great. Thanks son." I walked carefully across the room and up the stairs, trying not to spill the ho t chocolate. I knew about Mom and her hair, that's for sure. Because of the red highlights, Mom's long, thick and full-bodied head of hair was especially beauti ful in the sunlight but if it wasn't brushed it lost its shine and hung flat. Th is had a dramatic effect on the way Mom felt about herself, especially because h er hair compensated for a lack of prominent assets in the chest area. She did ha ve very nice legs, at least my dad was always saying so, but she thought they we re too thin and was convinced his compliments simply confirmed that he thought h er breasts were too small. So Dad had learned not to say anything. Thankfully, I wasn't expected to say. Mom's door was open and she was sitting in front of the mirrored dresser brushin g her hair. As I approached, I stepped around her discarded robe which looked li ke it had been tossed toward the bed but fell short and sprawled on the floor. M om was dressed in a pale blue nightdress I had seen before, though I could only see the bit covering her hips and the lower six inches of her back; the rest was covered by her hair. Mom's eyes looked up when I entered and her expression softened. "Oh Michael, you didn't need to do that." Mom always called me Michael and Dad a lways called me Mike. "No problem, not for my favorite lady," I sucked up, hoping to drain Mom's anger though I knew she would already be feeling sorry about getting mad at Dad. "That's so sweet," Mom said as I put her mug down on the dresser in front of her . "Will you stay for a few minutes with me?" "Sure." I took my mug over to the bed and sat down, tossing the tray behind me.

I sipped hot chocolate and watched Mom brush her hair after taking a small drink from her mug. "Is Dad mad at me?" she asked, pulling the brush slowly through her hair. "You know he's not," I answered, causing a slight smile that conveyed both relie f and acknowledgement that she knew this to be true. With each stroke of the brush, her breasts stretched up to strain against the fr ont of her nightdress, starkly outlining their form for a brief moment before he r descending arm relaxed the material sufficiently to camouflage her feminine ph ysique. As I drank my hot chocolate, my eyes were drawn again and again to this exposition but I thought nothing more of it than to note that there was more the re to meet the eye than Mom thought. It was strange to notice this feature of my mother with such platonic regard, for I wasn't feeling anything sexual about it . I just noted, with some surprise, that from this vantage point, Mom's breasts were more substantial than I had thought. Mom took her second drink and looked over to smile at me but she didn't say anyt hing. Feeling suddenly self conscious, I drained my mug in one gulp and stood to leave. As I walked behind Mom, she thanked me again for being so thoughtful. So mething made me stop. I leaned past Mom, set my empty mug beside hers, and stopp ed her hand in mid-stroke, relieving her of the brush. "I'll do it for you Mom," I quietly offered my services. "You don't have to do that, Michael." "I want to. Let me do it for you Mom." I was rewarded with a big smile. "Ok. That's so sweet of you." Mom adjusted her position on the seat, with a pleased wiggle as I began pulling the brush slowly and gently through her reddy brown hair. I brushed Mom's hair for quite a while and after she took the last drink from he r mug, she leaned her head back, looked up at my face, and asked me to do the fr ont, meaning the part that draped down over her ears. She closed her eyes, leavi ng her face turned up toward me, and leaned back against me. That was my undoing . As I looked down, carefully brushing the hair beside Mom's face, I realized that I had an unobstructed view of Mom's chest, barely covered by the thin nightgown . It was readily apparent that Mom was not wearing a bra and this time, I defini tely noticed that her small but pert breasts were very sexy. I quickly jerked my eyes away but they returned when I realized that with Mom's eyes closed, I was free to look. I could see the dark red spots encasing her nipples and a thrill r ippled through me when I noticed her nipples poking into the silky material of h er nightgown. I focused first on one nipple and then the other. As my gaze trave led between them, I realized the sides of her breasts were bare because the nigh tgown delved down in a big 'V' to the top of her tummy. This wonderful vista generated a twinge in my groin and I became suddenly cogniz ant of a boner growing in my jeans which were pressed against the spongy flesh o f my mother's back. I couldn't pull away because Mom was leaning too far back an d she would have lost her balance. I had to act like nothing was happening. I wi lled my cock to behave itself, admonishing myself for getting hard while looking at my own mother. When that didn't work, I started thinking of horrible things, like a hammer smashing my balls on an anvil but even that didn't work. Mom sighed and purred, "That feels wonderful."

She moved her head slightly from side to side, just enough to press her back har der against my scrotum, my softness slowly stiffening away. "Put the brush down and massage my head like your father does." I leaned forward to set the brush down on the dresser, my errant appendage press ing even harder into Mom's back. I worked my fingers over Mom's head, gently mas saging her scalp and then down to erase the stress lines from on her forehead, l etting my fingers stretch down her cheeks and along her jaw line before returnin g to her head, the way I'd seen my father do it many times before. "Mmmmmmmmm," Mom sighed, slowly twisting her head and neck, making the constrain ed ball within my jeans grow another inch. Maybe she didn't realize what was happening to me. Maybe she couldn't feel it th rough thick material of my jeans. Of course she can't, I reasoned, I was no porn star. I relaxed and my eyes strayed back to Mom's tits, now stretching the nigh tgown tightly across her upthrust nipples which seemed longer than they were mom ents before. They may be small, but they were fucking nice! Perhaps because of their subconscious desire to touch Mom's breasts, my hands di pped lower on their next pass down Mom's cheeks, below her jaw line, to stroke a nd massage her neck and throat, an action that pulled her tighter against my bul ging jeans. I didn't realize I was doing it until Mom spoke. "Oh, that feels really nice," she purred. "I like that." Mom arched her neck, pu shing her head back and stretching her nightgown until her tits looked like they were going to burst through. When I returned to massage her forehead and scalp, I left one hand on Mom's thro at, gently massaging her windpipe and the underside of her chin. Mom purred a co nstant, throaty appreciation. I was sure that her nipples were definitely longer and her breasts seemed firmer all around, rising more abruptly from her chest. I don't know how long I massaged her like that but it dawned on me that I wasn't massaging her scalp so much as stroking her throat and face, and just after tha t realization I was startled by the sound of my father's footsteps coming up the stairs. "Your father's coming," Mom whispered. I pulled my hands away from her neck and face, her whispered warning suddenly ma king me see my touch as a caress. My hands returned to Mom's scalp and her eyes opened just as Dad entered the bedroom. Why had she whispered? "Cliff, you can't believe the wonderful scalp massage your son just gave me." "Oh?" my father asked, shuffling toward the bathroom, clearly not interested. "Yes. You could be replaced, not that you'd care," Mom jibed. "Done," Dad shot back. "You've got a job, Mike. It's full time if you didn't alr eady know." The door closed and a few seconds later the tinkle of Dad's pee could be heard e ven through the closed bathroom door. I gently prodded Mom to an upright positio n and pulled away. "No, don't go," Mom protested.

"Dad's going to bed. I should too." "No. Just a little longer," Mom begged. "Mom," I complained, tugging the hand she had captured in her own. "Go get in your pajamas while Dad gets changed and then come back for a while lo nger." "Mom." "Please. That felt so nice. Just a bit more," Mom whined. "Alright," I conceded, wanting to escape with my still bulging jeans before Dad came back into the room. Mom let go and I was gone, struggling with my thoughts. She couldn't have known what was happening or she would have been mad. She certainly wouldn't have asked me to come back for more. But how could I do it in my pajamas? No, I'd have to keep my jeans on. But she told me to get changed. That's ok. I'd just stand back so she couldn't lean back against me, rub her scalp for awhile, and get out. Normally, I slept nude in the summer or with a pair of pajama bottoms from late fall through early spring. Following my habit, I put on a pair of PJ's and was o ut the door before it dawned on me that I couldn't wear just pajamas. What if I got a hardon again? How could I hide it? I returned and put on a pair of jockey shorts, rummaging around for a tight pair that would keep me close. Suitably arm ored, I put my PJ's back on and headed for my parents room, resolved to make thi s a brief as possible to minimize the possibility of facing an awkward, embarras sing situation. Dad was in bed when I entered and the lights had been turned off except for Mom' s the lamp on Mom's dresser which had been dimmed. I approached Mom, leaving alm ost a foot between myself and her back, and awkwardly stretched forward to get t he hairbrush from the dresser. Mom pushed my hand away. "Just do my scalp like before," she spoke quietly, glancing at Dad. I looked over at Dad too before I put my hands on Mom's hair. He was lying on hi s back with his eyes closed breathing quite deeply if not actually snoring yet. Turning back to Mom, I saw in the mirror that she had noticed where I was lookin g. "He's been doing that for about a year now. He goes to sleep as soon as he's in bed. He'll start snoring in a couple of minutes." My fingers were threading through Mom's hair, pulling it back and away from her face, revealing her relaxed smile. My fingers traced around the edges of her for ehead, then down one cheek, under her chin and up the other side of her face, ci rcling her ear to drag her hair out, letting it fall and returning my hand to he r forehead to repeat the cycle. Mom closed her eyes. "That's feels so good, Michael." Mom turned her face up toward me, I suppose to make it easier for me to reach. I didn't answer. There was no need, and anyway, I was captivated to the length o f her exposed throat. Why should the vulnerability of a woman's neck be so excit ing? Porn sites certainly weren't populated with pictures of women's necks. As I caressed Mom's face, my free hand slipped down to stroke her neck as I had been doing before Dad came upstairs. As that thought filtered through my mind, I gla

nced his way but he was still lying on his back. The only change I noticed was t hat he was breathing more deeply and before I looked away, he started to quietly snore. Surprisingly, I was more excited than scared to be touching Mom the way I was with my father lying not ten feet away. For some reason, that brought a smile to my face and it made Mom relax. I could feel the tension flow from her neck on Dad's first snore and by the third, despi te the gap between us, Mom leaned back until her head collided with my groin. I panicked then, sure she would open her eyes and suddenly leap forward, swing aro und and ask me what the hell was going on. She did no such thing. She just relax ed and let out a contented sigh. There was no adverse reaction about the back of her head resting on a lump that shouldn't be there. Somewhat mortified, I nevertheless continued Mom's face and neck massage. What e lse could I do? As my fear melted away, my attention was once more captured by M om's chest. The dim light did little to reduce the illegitimate affect of her br easts, especially since they seemed to be more available than they had been a wh ile ago. I looked closer. Her breasts were covered but the nightgown draped more loosely over them. I coul d still see the dark color of her areolae and the jut of her nipples which seeme d, if anything, to be longer now. Though the nightgown was looser, the edge of t he nightgown was closer to her nipples and revealed more of her breasts. The cas cade of Mom's hair over her shoulder as she leaned back explained the physics of the situation. The straps of the nightgown had fallen off Mom's shoulders to la y loosely on her upper arms, allowing the bodice to slip down her chest. My cock throbbed as this knowledge filtered through my brain. I'm sure the 'mmmmmmm' that Mom exhaled at that precise moment was sheer coincid ence but it flushed another surge of blood through my organ without evoking any further response from Mom. I continued my massage, acutely aware that my cock wa s pulsing into the back of Mom's head and getting harder by the minute. After a few more minutes, I was wishing I hadn't put on the tightest jockeys I c ould find because my cock had stiffened so much it was bent quite uncomfortably inside my shorts. Soon, I couldn't stand it any more and pulled my hips back so I could reach inside my pajamas and shorts to straighten myself. Mom was surpris ed by my sudden withdrawal but I quickly caught her with my free hand so she wou ldn't fall back and she didn't open her eyes. When I stepped forward again, I was closer and she was sitting more upright. I r esumed my massage by kneading her shoulders and neck to an appreciative murmur, my now upright cock pressing between her shoulder blades and against her neck ra ther than her head. I looked down to check out her breasts and was pleased to se e that the nightgown had fallen further down, catching on her left nipple and le aving the right completely exposed! Her bare nipple was longer than it appeared when covered by the nightgown. My ey es darted quickly from one to the other. Were they different sizes? No, it had t o be an illusion. My balls were bursting and I couldn't stop exerting my own pre ssure for the first time against Mom's back. Her free nipple stood out at least three quarters of an inch from her small tit, stiff and proud. How could anyone not be satisfied with that? I imagined the feel of it in my mouth, her soft tit pressing against my lips and tongue while her hard nipple poked into my palate. Oh, god. If only she wasn't my Mom. I could reach down and grab those tits and s queeze them and lean over to suck that luscious nipple. Mom purred again as I in advertently kneaded her neck harder. Encouraged, I reckless extended my massage out to her shoulder and beyond, kneading the muscles in her upper arms, pushing in, loosening her nightgown even more and managing to brush her shoulder straps

down toward her elbows. Returning my hands to massage her neck and the sides of her face and throat, I e ased back a half step, forcing Mom to lean further back like she had before. My cock slid higher into the groove in the back of her neck and I was surprised to sense bare skin. My cock had hardened enough to slip under the waistband of my s horts and pajamas and its head was now rubbing the back of Mom's neck! Settle down Mike, my brain screamed but my hands kept caressing Mom and my eyes feverishly sought out her chest to check out the results of my slippery handiwor k. Her tits were both bare! Completely. The nightgown had slipped right over her breasts and they were both open for my inspection, heaving in unison with her h eavier breathing. I stepped closer to Mom, allowing my cock to slide back between her shoulder bla des and causing her nightgown to fall ever further as her body returned to a mor e vertical posture. I concentrated my massage on her face and neck again, slidin g one hand gently over her entire face and rubbing the other up and down her thr oat, allowing my thumb to slip over onto her chin and briefly rest between her l ips. After awhile, I let that thumb press down slightly and noticed that Mom lef t her lips parted, ready to welcome its return. Incredibly, I found myself sligh tly hunching my cockhead into the hollow between Mom's shoulder blades as my han d glided up her throat to cup her chin and my thumb inserted itself between her moist lips, even pressing into her mouth to caress the tip of her tongue. Mom was breathing regularly and deeply, almost panting but not quite. Dad was no w snoring just as deeply. My eyes were fixed on her tits, on that pair of long, stiff nipples. I dearly wanted to touch one. I could almost feel them in my mout h. Dare I touch one? No! That would be insane. But I couldn't help thinking abou t it. God, how I wanted to. And then I did it. I just continued the stroke of my hand down her throat, over the bony part of her chest, to the side and over the top of her right tit, its r igid nipple dragging across my palm. And that produced another shock. Mom didn't do anything. She acted like I was still just stroking her neck. Her b reathing didn't change. Nothing. No jerk away, no yelling. If anything, her tit pressed into my hand. I slid my other hand from the side of her face and inserted my finger into Mom's mouth as my other hand closed over her tit, gently squeezing and releasing, squ eezing and releasing. I pushed my cock hard into Mom's back and inserted my fing er further into her mouth as if it was a cock seeking the bottom of her pussy. F or a long couple of minutes I kept that up. My finger sliding slowly in and out of her mouth, hand pulsing over her right tit as if I was squishing a bulb, and my cock rubbing up and down her back. This was insane. Unbelievable. Squeezing my mom's tit, fingering her mouth and d ry-humping her back with my father snoring less than ten feet away. Holy fuck. It was the sudden snort from Dad that changed everything. Mom jerked upright, hu nching over and turning away from Dad to sit sideways on the bench seat. I jerke d my head in absolute fear to look at my father, leaning back on bent knees but hunched forward, my bare cock sticking out above the waistband of my pajamas. He was changing his position, turning on his side, facing toward us. His eyes were closed, but they could open at any minute. Move! Turn away. Get out! Why couldn 't I move? Dimly, I was aware that Mom was turning, swiveling around to face me. Her arms r eached out and circled my hips, pulling me close, her forehead resting on my sto

mach. "Brush my hair," she hissed. Dumbly I looked down at the hair covering her entire back and falling to her sid es, concealing the state of her nightgown. My hand lurched toward the dresser, p icked up the brush, and pressed it against the hair in the middle of her back. D ad's eyes fluttered open but they didn't seem to focus. He smiled at me and clos ed his eyes. His breathing began to deepen. My hand pushed the brush down throug h Mom's hair. I continued brushing 's hands had slipped to grip their backs. athing was almost to

Mom's hair, my strokes lengthening as my fear subsided. Mom down to the side of my thighs, her fingers slipping around Her forehead was against my stomach, face hidden. Dad's bre snore level, but not quite.

I was alive. We hadn't been caught. Mom had saved me by turning around. Love pou red out of me, falling on her hair, over her shoulders and down her back. I love you, Mom. I love you, I thought. What an incredible relief. Mom had saved my li fe and wasn't mad at me for what I'd done. I didn't want her to pull her head aw ay, didn't want to have to face her. My free hand lightly stroked the back of he r head in tandem with my brush hand, gently pressing to keep her head still so s he wouldn't pull back and show me her face with its demand for an explanation. H ow long could I keep her there? Could I just run away? Dad started snoring, and then something else happened. Mom's hot breath suddenly blew over my cock. With every stroke of the brush, the re was a fresh puff of hot air, enveloping and warming, teasing, tickling, harde ning. I quickened my strokes and her breath puffed more often. I pressed my hand more firmly against the back of her head but encountered resistance stiff enoug h to deny my wish. Still, the hot puffs continued. God, my cock wanted to explode. It was tingling so hard I thought it would burst . I pushed forward, trying to find the source of that magic wind but Mom leaned back. Retracting, Mom leaned forward, shifting her position on the seat and foll owing with her hot breath. Magnificent. I leaned toward her again and this time stepped closer as well. Mom leaned back again but her legs widened to accommodat e my move. The hot breath continued though I had stopped brushing her hair. I resigned myself to being a receiver. I wanted to press myself against her mout h but I couldn't. I wanted to hold her tits again but I couldn't do that without losing her wonderful maternal breath. I needed to cum! A thought flooded into my mind on the backwash of that mind emptying flush, and I acted upon it. A simple change of footing, one foot ahead of the other, and my thigh, just above my knee, pressed between Mom's legs, making solid contact wit h the apex of their connection. Gently, I pressed my knee in, pushing my leg aga inst her pussy, her covering warmth searing around my thigh and rising up to my groin. I timed my presses to her breaths, leaning forward whenever I felt her ho t breath on my cock. How quickly we adapted to one another, as if we were genetically attuned. My pre sses became longer, enjoying both the heat of her connection and the hotness of her longer breaths. I started rubbing, pressing my knee in and rocking it agains t her from side to side, keeping it there longer than she could possibly expel h er hot breath. Gently, I urged her head forward again. She resisted but this time she was the w eaker and slowly, slowly, I pressed her reluctant face closer to my cock. But no

t all the way. I couldn't get her close enough to make contact though I could te ll from the heat of her breath she was only millimeters away. God, what a tease. Please, please, let me touch your face, just once, that will be enough. Then it happened. A thick, warm, wet slug pressed the underside of my cock, push ing, enveloping, sliding over me. Her tongue, her tongue, the thought crashed in to my head. I was going to cum. The shock was too much. I could feel it gatherin g steam, starting to roil up my shaft. Her head was gouging into my stomach, her upper lip prying my head away, fighting against the strength of the two elastic s keeping my cock tight to my skin. Hurry, my head yelled. It's coming. The hot liquid left my balls, entering my shaft, rocketing up. My head tipped forward an d Mom's upper lip slipped over the top of my cock and her teeth grazed my head w hile her lower lip, softened by her tongue, sweetly tickled the underside of my glans. Splash, splash, splash. In the nick of time. I pushed, shoving more of my cock into Mom's sweet mouth, gently nudging her tonsils. Squirt, squirt, squirt . I could hear her sucking, gulping, swallowing my copious treat, both hands now holding her head in place, the brush long since dropped to the carpet. She was sucking me now even though I was finished, pulling the dregs from my tip, lettin g me fuck her mouth with short strokes. Finally, she pulled away. She didn't look at me, swiveling around instead to fac e the dresser. Her face was turned down but I could see that her eyes were open. Her right hand stretched out, pointing down toward the floor, the strap of her nightgown hanging around her elbow. "Hand me my brush before you go, please," Mom's said in a strangely disconnected voice. I picked up the brush and placed it in her hand, turned, and walked away, feelin g somewhat divorced from the situation myself. "Michael," Mom's soft voice caught up to me. I stopped and turned. "Yes." "I like my hair brushed every night." Her voice seemed to echo, like an offstage direction. I nodded, noticing her eyes watching me in the mirror. "I'll see you tomorrow night then, after Dad's asleep." "Ok." I turned away again, shuffling toward the door. "Michael," she called in her normal voice. "Yes?" "Say goodnight to your mother." "Goodnight, Mom ... I love you." I didn't avoid Mom the next day. Not on your life. At breakfast and dinner I tri ed to send private messages to Mom through meaningful glances but she was oblivi ous to every one. Not once did I receive an acknowledgement of any kind. Mom did n't flash me a secret smile or glance, or avert her eyes in sudden discomfort up on interpreting an uncomfortable signal. She was the same mother I had known eve ry day of my life. I hadn't known what to expect. At first, I was apprehensive because I thought sh

e might be angry with me, that I had forced myself upon her and she had to do wh at she did so Dad wouldn't know. But then I remembered the way things had ended and I felt eager to engage her in anticipation of another wonderful evening brus hing her hair. The last thing I expected was no change at all. But that's the way it was. Mom largely ignored when I got home after school, res ponding only when necessary to my atypical chit chat with her. I gave up and wen t to my room, as I normally did. Mom's interaction with Dad was typical and she dealt with me the way she always did after I came downstairs to wait for dinner. Dinner ... you guessed it ... was exactly the same as any other dinner. Mom cha tted about her day, asked Dad about his and me about mine and then she and Dad w ent to the living room while I cleaned up the table, loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned the counters before joining them to watch some TV. Mom totally ignored my hints about her hair, my attempts to catch her attention, and my long looks at her legs and small breasts. Eventually, I became disgruntl ed and left for my room to blow off my built-up tension by killing something on the computer. Was this it? Was last night a one-timer? Did she think the easiest way to handle it to pretend it didn't happen? She hadn't responded to any of my references to her hair. Though I hadn't explicitly asked her if she wanted it brushed, she di dn't pick up on the hint. She couldn't have missed the obvious request so the an swer must be no, she didn't want her hair brushed. I was startled by the quiet knock on my door. Mom came in before I could answer, carrying a mug of hot chocolate. She brought over and set it down on the desk, her hand reaching out to rest across on my shoulders while she looked at the com puter screen and the game I was playing. I thanked her for the drink. "I thought you might be studying," she said, implying she wouldn't have brought me anything if she'd known I was just playing a game. "No, I just needed to blow off some steam," I replied. More like frustration, I thought to myself, conscious that Mom was wearing a housecoat which meant she'd already changed for bed. Her hip felt warm pressing against the side of my arm. Mom's hand lifted from my shoulder and her fingers curled around to play with th e hair at the nape of my neck. "Well, that's one way to do it," she said. Mom played with my hair for a few more seconds before pulling her hand away and walking to the door where she briefly paused. "Dad's just gone to bed." She was gone but somehow it felt like she was still there. It wasn't just the fa int smell of perfume or other feminine products, it was the excited tension her voice had inspired in me. My nerves tingled and I found it hard to breathe. Dad had gone to bed. She hadn't said goodnight. She'd just told me that Dad had gone to bed, and she'd brought me a drink, implying I should take a few minutes to d rink it. I jumped up and stripped my clothes off, lunged to the dresser and grabbed a pai r of pajama bottoms and jockey shorts, yanked them on and then searched for a tshirt. After that I turned for the door. Too quick, I thought, turning back. I'd better finish the hot chocolate. I strod e to the desk and picked up the mug, taking a big swig. Shit! I sprayed frothy b rown foam all over my LCD screen. Christ, that was hot! I picked up the front of

my t-shirt and stuffed it into my mouth, trying to relieve my burning tongue. J esus! Seeing the stain on my t-shirt, I pulled it off and tossed it to the floor. I be gan looking for another one but changed my mind. The hell with it. I go the way I was. Thinking about it, I took my pajama bottoms off, stripped off my jockey s horts, and put the pj's back on by themselves. No guts, no glory, I thought, sud denly riding a wave of confidence again. I returned to the computer desk and slo wly sipped the hot chocolate until it was gone. As fast as I could, mind you, bu t without burning myself again. With confidence and anticipation, I strode out m y door. By the time I reached the door to my parent's room my anticipation was unchecked but my confidence had waned somewhat. Mom hadn't actually asked me to come. Wha t if Dad was awake? My pajama's weren't exactly tenting, shrinkage having wreake d havoc with my new found anxiety, but I was still loose and fancy free under th ere and anything could happen. I looked down; not now, anyway. I was through the door, having continued walking. The room was dim and filled with the sound of my father's heavy breathing period ically broken by a soft snore. Mom was sitting in front of the dresser, her back to me. I approached slowly, stepping quietly on the thick carpet. She looked up and smiled as I neared, lifting her right hand over her shoulder, offering the hairbrush. My fingers trembled as I took it. Saying nothing, Mom turned her eyes down, and waited. I pulled the brush through her hair with my first tentative stroke. Mom's hair w as damp and I had to pull harder to force the bristles through her thick mane bu t not so hard that it would hurt. I worked diligently and actually lost myself i n the task, pulling the hair away from her back with one hand to avoid snagging the robe, while tugging the brush through, slowly parting and straightening smal ler and smaller bundles of hair. Eventually, I was stroking the full length of h er hair without hitting a snag but found it harder to hold her hair away from he r back. I kept snagging the robe. After one such incident, probably the thirtieth, Mom lifted both hands to her ne ck, shrugged and wiggled, and her robe slipped off her shoulders, piling on the seat beside her and falling to hand down to the floor behind her. I continued br ushing, expecting to snag her nightgown but encountered no resistance. Perhaps i t was one of those ones made with silky material. Being cautious, I decided to p ull Mom's hair away from her back anyway. My knuckles grazed Mom's back as I gat hered her hair to pull it out a bit and was halfway through my brush stroke befo re I realized that the material was oddly warm and soft. The next stroke confirm ed it but it wasn't until the third stroke, when I peered under the pulled out h air, that I knew for certain that my knuckles had scraped along Mom's bare back. She wasn't wearing a nightgown. I pulled her hair way out from her back before a pplying the brush on the next stroke, opening a long column of bare back, and bu ttock. Working my way from that side to the center, I was able to see a long col umn of smooth skin that ended in a canyon that quickly narrowed to a dark crack. I was looking down at Mom's ass, at least the bit of it she wasn't actually sit ting on. For the first time, my pajamas began to tent. I looked over at Dad. He was still sleeping so my eyes returned to the magic slice of skin. "Something wrong?" Mom's soft voice startled me. She hadn't whispered and I look ed at Dad again in case he opened his eyes. "He's sleeping," Mom added, waiting for an answer her question. I was still holding the hair away from her back, the brush in my other hand wait ing to be applied. No wonder she'd asked. I was just staring at her ass crack.

"Um ... no. I was just ... um," "... going to massage my scalp?" Mom finished for me. "Yeah, that's ... uh, yeah." Mom held her hand up and I put the brush in it. After putting it on the dresser, Mom leaned back toward me, tipping her face upward, eyes closed. My thighs pres sed against her back. I started running my fingers through Mom's hair and scratc hing lightly at her scalp. Mom didn't make an aural response until my fingers sl ipped down to trace her forehead. "Mmmmmmmmm, I like that," she purred. I trailed my fingertips around as lightly as I could, carefully running over her closed eyelids, feeling her eyes underneath, running along the side of her nose and then horizontally across her lips. "Mmmmmmmm," she murmured. I pushed my other hand down to cup Mom's cheek and let my other fingers slide ov er her chin and down the length of her neck, gently caressing her exposed throat . Slowly, slowly, I thought. I spent some time tickling around and around on her neck, up and down an also up each side, cradling her head in my other arm, its fingers now stretching across her chin and mouth. She was naked to her waist where the still belted robe covered her lap. But her chest was bare and I had an open view of her breasts, topped by a small, pointie r swelling before her nipples, so long, burst forth. I pulled up on her chin, tw isting her head back and loving the way her tits pushed out as she arched her ba ck to accommodate the additional stress on her spine. My pajama tent grazed the back of her neck and stayed there as my hand stroked her neck. "Mmmmmmmm," Mom purred again, her head moving in a small, appreciative oval whic h caused her neck to rub against my equally grateful cock. I didn't think I could take a minute of her twisting neck but I did. I let my ne ck-stroking fingers slide down further, further, until my palm scraped over her hard, long nipple. "Ohhhhhhhhh." I don't know which one of said that. Maybe both. I massaged her tit, gently sque ezing her nipple. I stepped closer, forcing her more upright, my cock pressing a gainst the back of her shoulders, my other hand stretching down to capture her f ree tit, fingers enveloping it and pinching that nipple in a gentle vice. I hunc hed my cock into Mom's back as I tugged her nipples toward the mirror. "Ohhhhhhhh." "Mmmmmmm." We were in perfect tune. I rubbed my palms back and forth over her nipples, bending them all around her t its while I thrust my cock up and down between her shoulder blades. I was going to cum, I was near. My breath was raspy and ragged. Fuck, I was going to cum all over her back. In her hair?

Suddenly, Mom leaned way forward and her tits slipped from my hands. I was left leaning over with my hands empty and my pajamas forming a large pyramid in front . Panting, I stared down at Mom, also breathing hard, her head on the dresser, h ands laying on its edge at either side of her head. I'd gone too far, got too carried away. She'd stopped me. Was she waiting for me to go? I didn't want to but could I face her when she turned around? Could I re ally stay and make her face me? Could I really just leave and pretend this hadn' t happened. Mom's head lifted, turned sideways toward Dad, briefly, then back down toward th e floor. She was turning, away from Dad, spinning on the bench seat the way she' d done last night. Her knees were at the end now and coming around toward me on my side of the bench. I looked down at the top of Mom's head, she was keeping he r face turned down to the floor. Her knees were square to me now and her legs op ened. Head still down, Mom's arms raised and stretched out, closing onto the sid e of my thighs, hands folding around and pressing me forward, toward her, like l ast night. I gave way. My thigh once again made contact with the inside of Mom's and continued pressing until my leg was stopped by the juncture of hers. "Ohhhhhhh," Mom purred. A warm, damp bristly mat impinged on the soft flesh just above my knee. She wasn 't wearing panties. She was completely naked under that robe. I put my hands gently on the top of Mom's head and stroked the hair down the sid es of her face, pushing it back. Slowly, Mom's face turned up toward me but stop ped when she was looking directly ahead, at my pajama pyramid. Why hadn't I worn my jockey shorts? If I had, I would surely now be poking outside my pajamas, re ady to feel her hot breath, and maybe even her wet tongue. But I was stuck insid e, making this ridiculous tent. Mom's head moved forward and I gathered her hair in my hands, holding it up behi nd her head as she leaned in. I wanted to pull my pajamas down but was afraid to take the initiative. Please poke out. Please. But I wasn't long enough. No matter. Mom's head kept coming and her face bumped my rigid tent, adjusted, a nd then her mouth slipped over the head of my cock, pajamas and all. "Uuuuuuuhhhhhhh," I cried, not able to dampen my cry regardless of my father's p resence. "Ohhhhhhhhh," I cried as Mom's mouth pressed further, enveloping more of me and my pajamas. Her mouth closed, clamping my cock firmly in her mouth. She didn't move for seve ral very long seconds. Then, instead of pulling away, as I expected, she began m ilking my cock, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, the same way I had worked on her tits. Mom's arms circled my hips, pulling me closer, her legs closing on mine, her wet pussy rubbing my lower thigh, faster now. I began to push my pajama-covered cock into Mom's mouth, trying to fuck it, but I had limited degrees of freedom. Nevertheless, I kept thrusting, she kept milki ng, I pushed and twisted my knee, and she kept squeezing and rubbing. Suddenly, Mom's hand slipped down my hips, dragging my pajamas with them just as her mouth yanked off my soaked tent. One brief moment of freedom and my pole wa s quickly captured again, only this time the captor was warmer, wetter, softer a

nd more vigorous. Mom's head moved up and down on my cock of its own accord but I helped it along anyway, my own hands pushing and lifting, pushing and lifting. Ah, fuck. The feel of my cock sliding in and out of her tight mouth, amid all th ose slurpy sucking sounds. Suddenly, I convulsed, bending over, pulling her head to me, keeping my cock shoved in her mouth. My hips were jerking, my spasms unl oading my white son's cream in her throat. "Uggghhh, uggghhh, unnnggghhh." Finally, I was still. Gradually, the tension in my hips, legs and arms relaxed, releasing her head, her mouth slipping off my sagging cock. It flopped down as s oon as it passed her lips. Her head sagged down again. "Away you go now. Off to bed," she said, like she used to when I was little afte r kissing me goodnight. I backed away, pulling my pajamas up, my eyes straying belatedly over to check o n Dad, relieved that he his eyes were closed even though I knew I was safe befor e that was confirmed because I he was still snoring. Mom didn't move the whole t ime I backed away. She was still hunched over when I left the room. The next day was the same as the day before. Mom acted like nothing had happened . I was relieved because she had looked so dejected when I'd left her room. I di dn't try to badger her this time, didn't try to send or received any secret sign als. I acted just like she did. I didn't rush when she brought me a mug of hot c hocolate. I took my time with it, relishing in her parting words, "Dad's just go ne to bed." Though I had taken my time, Mom hadn't yet sat down in front of the dresser when I entered her room. She was just walking out of the bathroom, wearing a white r obe that fit her body well. It wasn't terry cloth or silky but a soft looking ma terial. It was belted at the waist but open down her front to there. Nothing sho wed because she didn't have big ones, but I knew those delightful treats were ea sily accessible. Mom smiled as she passed between me and the bed where Dad was sprawled on his ba ck, snoring quietly with his legs spread wide, and I stood unabashed by the tent already fully formed in my pajamas in full anticipation of tonight's brushing. "Hello Michael." She seemed pleased. "Hi Mom." My breath was already catching. I started to follow her to the dresser but Mom motioned for me to stay put. She picked up her brush and tapped the light to turn it off, leaving the room lit on ly by the light that managed to escape the bathroom through the almost closed do or. Were we going downstairs? My already hard cock subsided a little. I realized tha t, despite the fear factor or maybe because of it, I got off on the danger of ou r little game proceeding in my Dad's presence. Mom returned, stood in front of me, and handed me the brush. "It must be hard for you to brush my hair standing behind me like that when I'm sitting," Mom said. "No, it's ok. I don't mind," I replied, not wanting to change anything we did.

"No," she said. "We'll do it here. It will be easier on you." I was happy just to hear her say we weren't leaving the bedroom. I took the brus h from Mom's hand and she stretched up on her toes to give me a kiss on my cheek , then thought better of it and gave me a quick kiss on my lips, directly on my mouth for the first time in my life. Mom turned away and kneeled on the floor, facing the end of the bed. Her hands w ere busy in front of her and I realized she was pushing the robe off her shoulde rs. As it fell to the floor, still caught around her waist, she leaned forward t o rest her head on the edge of the bed, between Dad's widespread feet. I fell to my knees behind her, knees straddling her outstretched calves, squatting above her feet. I started to brush her hair. Like the night before, I brushed Mom's hair for a long time. I knew she was nake d under the robe and I was enjoying the anticipation of what was to come, fondli ng her tits before she turned to take me into her mouth. Eventually, as I brushe d, I allowed my free hand to stroke her skin, caressing first her back but then more and more along her sides. I let my fingers stretch around to her front to s trum over her waiting nipple, flicking it, sometimes pinching, sometimes graspin g and squeezing her whole tit. The way she arched her back and sighed in respons e, I knew she loved this extended love play. How was this to work, I wondered, when she turned around? We weren't standing. S hould I stand and pull her to her knees? No, that was too one-sided. What if, st ill kneeling, I forced her thighs around mine so she could rub her pussy on it? Could I then bend her head down to take me into her mouth? Playing the scenario out in my mind made we think, why not get started? Why not press my knee between her legs now? I dropped the brush and the pretense of brus hing her hair in favor of continuing to stroke her tit. Now free, I used my hand to pull her feet apart far enough that I could slip my knee between her legs. Q uickly, I slid it forward until it nudged her behind. Mom accommodated me, lifti ng her bum up and opening her legs a little wider. I pushed in further, scraping the top of my knee across the bottom of her pussy. "Ohhhhhhhhh," I heard what she thought of what I was doing. I continued brushing her tit and reached around with my other hand to similarly treat her other one that had so far been deprived of my attention. I kept pushin g and lifting my knee, gently grinding my leg into Mom's pussy. I could tell thi s was truly appreciated, not only by the sounds Mom made but also because she st retched her pelvis back so more of her pussy, especially the front, could scrape along my leg. It was after one particularly loving moan in response to a long grind and rub th at I decided to hell with it and slipped my hands down from her tits to undo the belt and pull her rob apart. I pulled it out to the right side and let it drop to the carpet. Mom was completely naked before me. I grasped her hips and pulled her back and forth along my thigh, tensing my musc les to make it press harder into her pussy as it moved up and down. She seemed t o love that and was really getting into it. Her abandoned response made we think again. I didn't want to turn her around. I wanted to keep this going. I slipped my right hand down and in, over her belly and between her legs, my fingers stre tching down to find her damp pubic hair, following it down until I pierced throu gh her wet slit. In response to her guttural moan, I pushed my fingers into her cunt. She was too

far gone to deny me. She needed it. Had Dad fucked he in the last year? Two? I didn't think so, not the way her cunt grabbed so desperately at my fingers. I pu lled up so my palm covered her mound and dug pressed back against her clit, rubb ing in a small circle there. Her hips began to gyrate. She was getting really ho t. Frantically, I used my free hand to shove my pajamas down, awkwardly catching th e waistband on my extremely hard cock, finally getting it free with great diffic ulty. I kicked her left wide to make room for mine and pulled her hips up, shovi ng forward to bring my cock below her gaping thighs. When I began to lower her, I think she realized what was happening. "No Michael. No." But it was too late. My cock was already in her wet slit, spreading her lips, po pping inside her hot cunt. As Mom's knees hit the carpet, I lunged forward, impa ling her on my cock, fully embedded inside her clutching pussy. Mom didn't try to stop me. She didn't say no again, she just reacted. She seemed just as happy when I moved slowly in and out as when I rapidly jammed myself in to her, hammering into her ass cheeks, making a wet slapping sound that should h ave woken the dead but didn't wake my Dad. Not that we cared. We were beyond it. We were fucking, intensely joined, rutting like two animals. One arm was curled around her belly while the other held a handful of hair. For some reason, pulli ng her head back to turn her face up really turned me on. I didn't ever want to stop fucking her. I was both desperate to cum and wanted t o avoid it at all costs. I couldn't imagine my cock ever pulling out of her. The feel of it sliding through that textured tunnel was exquisite. I couldn't live without it, my mother's pussy, the feel of her ass billowing against my hips as my cock dug deep into her cunt. I came hard, spewing my seed in a series of wild , lunging thrusts, slowly winding down until I was still. But I didn't pull out. We leaned, her against the bed, me on her back, gasping f or breath. I kept myself pressed tightly to her ass, keeping my cock inside that incredible warmth. As our breath returned and I could sense she was ready for m e to pull out, I began moving again. A couple of tiny thrusts. I'm sure she thou ght I was taking those last, saddened pokes before leaving but I kept it up and by the time she realized what I was doing, as my cock stiffened inside her, she was ready too and started squeezing my shaft, pulling on it, welcoming it with a warm cuntal hug. I pulled Mom away from the bed and turned her, pushing her down to the floor. Sh e spread her legs wider and raised her hips, opening herself to my attack. After a while, I closed her legs and pulled her up to her knees, keeping her head dow n on the carpet. I got to my feet and straddled her, attaining an angle that all owed me to reach maximum depth inside her maternal womb. We ended with her flat on the floor, legs together with me sitting on her thighs, cock embedded in her pussy, grinding away as I held an ass cheek in each hand. I came and then leaned forward, stretching my body over top of hers, kissed her on her mouth and whispered in her ear, "Tomorrow?" Mom nodded, exhausted. Wouldn't it be nice to say that the next day was the same? That Mom continued pl aying the same innocent "I'm just your mom" game until her evening mutation into my woman. But the next day was different. The first day I had tried so hard to make a special connection, and the second day I resigned myself to the "I'm just your mom" gig, but the third day was Saturday and all of us were home all day.

One difference was that I stayed home whereas usually I hung out with my friends until dinner and then went out again. Typically, I was home no more than an hou r after I got up and though Dad didn't seem to notice anything different, Mom ce rtainly did. She seemed antsy but didn't say anything directly, instead asking h ow such and such a friend was, and I haven't seen so and so for a long time ... that kind of thing. But I didn't bite on her ploy to ferret out an explanation f or why I was staying home. It took me a while but it eventually dawned on me that Mom was having trouble ig noring me. She wasn't angry about me making suggestive remarks, or casting long yearning glances her way. Unlike the first day, I wasn't doing any of that. It w as as if my mere presence bothered her. To be clear, she didn't seem angry or up set in that way. It was more like she was having difficulty acting normal with m e constantly there, as if she couldn't concentrate because she was aware of me a ll the time. I think I was making her excited. It was in her mannerism somehow that I couldn't precisely define. In her voice, for sure. There was a nervousness, a fragility that made her voice sound as if s he was holding her breath, like she might if she was stepping gingerly over some sharp pebbles. I tried hard not to glance her way and probably didn't succeed but I certainly d idn't leer or let my eyes dwell on her body. But neither did I leave. I stayed n ear her. At one point late in the morning, when Dad left the kitchen to visit th e bathroom, I sauntered over to where she was standing and stood beside her. Looking out the window as she was, I casually remarked, "You look really nice to day Mom." "Oh?" she replied wistfully. "Yeah," I said. "I don't know what it is but there's something special about you today." I didn't touch her or say anything more. I left it at that. When I heard Dad app roaching I simply walked away, outside, signaling my understanding that this spe cial moment was over, that it wasn't to be shared with anyone no matter how clos e or important. It's hard to describe but that quiet moment seemed more intimate than the previous night when I lay on top of her with my softening cock still d ripping between her legs. The connection was ephemeral yet concrete and enduring . Later that afternoon, long after lunch, I was standing in the same spot looking out the back window watching Dad gardening in the back yard near the greenhouse. Mom came in quietly behind me and I didn't notice her until she stood beside me , resting one hand on the counter in front of us. She looked out the window just as Dad stood and carried something into the greenhouse, leaned my way and press ed her hip against mine, curling her arm around my waist to rest her hand on my hip. "He certainly enjoys his gardening these days, doesn't he?" "Yes," I agreed, slipping my arm around her, resting it in the same spot on her hip. "He's more and more in his own world this past year," Mom said, stating a fact r ather than complaining. I pulled her closer and she leaned her head toward me as her body was pressed mo

re tightly to mine. I kissed the top of her head and let my hand fall, sliding f rom her hip to loosely cup the denim covering her buttock, my fingers finding an d resting in the little hollow on the side while my palm experienced the full ju t of her cheek. "You're not alone," I whispered. Mom's arm squeezed me tighter but she didn't reply. When Dad exited the greenhou se and walked toward the house, we parted again in tacit agreement that this was another moment meant only for us. The rest of the afternoon passed slowly and dinner was excruciating. I told Mom and Dad I was going out. Mom looked surprised and I think a little disappointed. I wasn't actually going anywhere, having already told my friends I was sick but I had to get out of the house. I drove around for an hour or so and returned ho me. It wasn't even ten but when I entered the darl house I knew right away that my parents had gone to bed. As I topped the stairs, I was disappointed to see no light shining from Mom's be droom, not even the dim light from her dresser. I went into my room and got chan ged for bed anyway, thinking I would play some games or cruise the net. I couldn 't believe Mom hadn't waited for me after the 'understanding' we had shared earl ier today. Naked, I searched for a new pair of pajamas but there weren't any fre sh ones in my drawer, nor could I find the ones I'd worn last night. I guess Mom had put them in the wash sometime during the day. I sat down at my computer buc k nake but within moments I stood up, bored and uninterested in games or the web . I don't know why I wandered out of my room and down the hall to Mom's room. The door was open about a foot and I quietly slipped inside and stopped, letting my eyes get used to the dark, listening past my Dad's snoring for any sign that Mom was not asleep. I stepped closer, straining to hear and was startled when my fo ot bumped into another. "Mom?" I whispered. "Michael?" Mom's reply drifted faintly from below, directly in front of me. Cautiously, I stepped forward, hands stretched out feeling the darkness, expecti ng to make contact with her sitting on the end of the bed. How long had she been waiting in the dark? Why hadn't she said something when I walked by when I firs t came home. How could her foot be stretched out so far? Just as I realized that she must be sitting down on the floor at the end of the bed, my knees collided with her chest. I started to kneel down but I was too close to the bed and my kn ees bumped against the end of the mattress, catching on the boxspring below it. Mom's hands were on my thighs, sliding up toward my hips. I was off-balance, onl y my knees pressing against the mattress kept me from falling onto Mom. I was st artled again when my cock brushed by the side of Mom's face, scraping by her ear and nestling in her hair. Christ, I didn't have any clothes on. I'd forgotten. About to apologize, ready to spring back onto my feet, I was blocked by Mom's ha nds grasping my hips. Her face pulled away but returned immediately. I could fee l my tip bumping against her cheek, her chin and lips, and then it was wet, slid ing into Mom's mouth. Her fingers gripped my ass, pulling my cheeks, holding me inside. Slowly, her head started moving back and forth and in no time I could the sound of her wet, sloppy cocksucking. I put my hand onto the bed to brace myself, a mi nute later leaning further forward onto my elbows, my hips moving slightly as I began fucking Mom's face. It wasn't gently. We were both too eager. Her teeth sc

raped my cock but I didn't care. I shoved faster and faster into her face. I was too hepped up, I needed release. Too long a day, too much thinking, not enough fucking. Until now that is. My hips were bucking. How could that loud slurping n ot wake my father? Oh shit, my cockhead was vibrating, it was coming, bolting up my shaft, into her, gush, gush, gush. I could hear her, swallowing, then gurgli ng like she was drowing, then swallowing again, gulping. I tensed all my muscles , urging my sticky seed out, needing to fill her. I was done. I slipped back, now finding it so easy to fall to the floor, straddl ing her thighs, collapsing against her, feeling her tits poke into my chest. She was naked. There was no robe. She had been sitting on the floor at the end of t he bed, waiting, naked. My wet cock pressed into her stomach, and I involuntarily hunched into her, fuck ing her torso for several thrusts. I leaned down and pressed my face to hers, fe eling her wet cheeks. It was tears, not my cum. "Mom?" I whispered. "Michael ... oh, Michael," she mumbled. I stood up, finding and pulling her hands with me. "Come on," I urged, tugging her toward the door. "No, I can't," she whispered. "Yes," I whispered, more urgently. I pulled harder but her hands pulled out of m ine. I bent down but couldn't retrieve her hand. Instead, I found her foot and curled my hand around her ankle. Lifting her leg, I pulled her across the carpet, thro ugh the door and into the hallway where the dim light from my open bedroom door highlighting her curves and casting shadows in her feminine valleys. Her eyes wa tched me as I dragged her like a caveman toward my room, luscious brown hair tra iling on the carpet behind her. She made no protest, not by sound or struggle. I pulled her well into my room, dropped her foot to the floor with a dull thud, and closed my door. Returning, I briefly surveyed my prize, then knelt between h er legs, lifting her knees and pushing her legs back toward her chest. Scooting underneath, I rose up on my squatting feet and nudged my cock into her open slit , lifted a little more to improve my angle, and slid home with a loud grunt. "Unnnnnghhhhh," Mom responded to my first long thrust. I stayed bottomed inside her while I adjusted my stance, pushing her legs back e ven further. I started fucking her, holding her knees tight to her chest, hands gripping her small tits, staring intensely into her eyes. I didn't fool around. I didn't vary my pace or try to be cute. I simply fucked her, straight and hard. I wasn't in a hurry. Filling her mouth had freed me from any such desperate nee d. I just wanted to fuck her long and hard. Not once did I look away and neither did her eyes waver. I loved fucking her like this. She couldn't move, she could only take me. And she did, pulling more and more from me, wresting control away from me until much later, when my cock was digging into her at a furious pace, and her eyes pleaded for release though our grunts and moans. I spewed all of my spunk inside her bare, unprotected cunt as her feet tried desperately to hold m e closer, her heels digging into my shoulders. A long time later, when my cock dropped out of her pussy followed by the dregs o f my white cream, I stood and helped her to her feet. Wordlessly, she turned to

walk back to her room but I pulled her back and took her in my arms, hugging her closely for over a minute. Our heads finally pulled back and we kissed. On the lips at first, just a light brushing, but quickly followed by several deep, tong ue lashing duels. We were breathing faster when we finished. Mom pulled away aga in, our hands joined, stretching out as the gulf between our bodies widened but at that last moment, when our fingers should have parted, I pulled her to me aga in. Mom rolled into my arms, expecting another long kiss, but I turned her and pushe d her toward my bed. Belatedly, she realized what I was doing and protested but I pushed her forward until she fell on her tummy across my bed, knees and feet d angling over the edge. She tried to push herself up but I pressed her down with a hand in her back while my legs nudged hers apart. She was still. I spent a few minutes arranging her hair until it was spread evenly over her bac k, untangled. She waited patiently while I did this, seeming to enjoy it as much as I did, as if she could see how beautiful her hair was through my eyes. I bent my knees, my now hardening cock reaching for the juncture of her legs, fi nding her pungent pussy and pushing in, slowly, until I was all the way in. Her arms stretched out and her hands grasped the far side of the mattress. I leaned over her back, bringing my head close to hers. "I love being inside you," I whispered. "Then fuck me," she said, pushing her ass up and back, clamping down, and pullin g on my cock. Mom had gone all the way. Well, now that she'd been mine, she'd be available whe never I wanted her. So went my false male logic, or at least the limited logic o f an inexperienced young man. Of course, things turned out to be a little more c omplicated than that. The next day was Sunday and I expected to have access to Mom as soon as I could pry her away from Dad. It was a beautiful, sunny morning and Mom matched the day with white shorts and a multi-colored knitted top made of a stretchy material w ith a knitted look, the kind worn like a band covering a woman's chest but leavi ng her shoulders and tummy bare. It was perfectly suited for a woman with smalle r breasts because it lifted them, making them seem larger and more prominent, wh ile emphasizing their shape, greatly improving their sex appeal. This sight wasn't lost on me when I joined my parents in the kitchen for breakfa st. Dad was holding his coffee in one raised hand as he read the morning paper a nd Mom was just setting his breakfast plate on the table in front of him. Her ta nned torso greeted me as I passed through the doorway and my eyes immediately la tched onto her shapely top. She asked me what I wanted for breakfast, offering a couple of selections as I clumsily sat in my chair, the rest of my brain strugg ling with insufficient resources to properly manage that simple task. I noticed another thing while Mom repeated the breakfast options. Although she w as a thin woman Mom had a wonderfully full and sensuous oval navel rather than t he little button type. When I finally looked up, she was regarding me with a smu g smile, obviously amused by my intense appreciation of her ... summery attire. "Well?" she asked as my face reddened and my eyes darted toward my thankfully ob livious father. I was at a loss for words. Mom reached out to cup my chin in her hand. "You look tired. Didn't you sleep well last night?"

Again, I didn't know what to say, surprised by her allusion to last night's acti vies. Mom's smile broadened. "I think you should have a nap this afternoon if you're g oing to come to the theater with us tonight. What do you think, Cliff?" "What?" my father looked up, not really aware of what had been said. "Michael. He looks so tired. He should have a nap this afternoon before going to the theater with us tonight." "Theater?" Dad repeated. Mom's smile, which had changed to feigned concern, now morphed into an exasperat ed expression. "Yes, the theater. We're going to the theater, and you're both go ing to rest this afternoon. I don't want either of you nodding off and embarrass ing me." "Yes dear," Dad hid his face in the paper again. I began to protest but Dad spok e without raising his head, "No arguments, Mike. Do as your mother says." "Ok Dad," I capitulated. Mom had turned and walked back to the counter and my attention was drawn away by the white shorts which clung to her bottom, her bare midriff and tanned legs ac centing the flare of her hips from her narrow waist. Last night I had straddled and pushed my cock between those thighs but it had been too dark to appreciate t he lovely shape of her buns. I was certainly appreciating them now but was caugh t again when Mom turned to look back at the table. She smiled and didn't seem up set when she saw the direct line from my eyes to her shorts. "It's going to be hot today. I might have a rest myself," Mom said. Continuing a fter a short pause, she mused, "I wonder what I should wear tonight?" Mom drew her arm back, bent her elbow, and placed her hand on her right buttock, bending her knee to cock her hip and push her bun up to fill her hand. Her wais t kinked inward and forced her right breast tightly into her top, making it quit e clear that this was indeed a tit. My morning hardon, which had recently subsid ed, started to regenerate. I guess Mom couldn't make up her mind about what to wear because she resumed the activities she'd been engaged in before striking that erotic pose. A moment lat er she brought two bowls of yogurt and fruit to the table, one for me and one fo r herself. She sat down, turning her chair so she could stretch her legs, one on top of the other, toward my end of the table. I ate my fruit but my eyes were o n her legs, especially the upper one whose foot was bouncing up and down above t he other. Mom didn't talk. She amused herself by watching me look at her legs. When I look ed up, she smiled and put a spoonful of yogurt and fruit into her mouth, turning the spoon over and leaving it inside, slowly sucking off its contents as she pu lled it out. It was such a blatantly seductive action I couldn't help staring, i mmobilized except for my eyes which followed Mom's delicate hand as it set the s poon down and then joined its partner at opposite sides of her top. Her torso wr iggled as her fingers tugged at the top, evidently adjusting it to make her brea sts more comfortable. Even through the thick material I could discern the presen ce of Mom's nipples. Belatedly, I lifted my eyes to find that Mom had been watch ing me and once again my face reddened.

She toned down the seductive moves after that which allowed me to stand and leav e after eating breakfast without having to hide myself from Dad. I would have hu ng around longer but Dad didn't seem in any hurry to leave and Mom stayed in the kitchen. When Dad offered to go out to pick some things up for Mom, my heart an d cock leapt for joy but were quickly disappointed when Mom cheerily said she'd join him. I was stunned. Why the big tease if she was going to throw away the ch ance to be together for an hour or so? I desperately wanted to be with her but s he smilingly left with Dad. They didn't return for hours, well after lunch in th e middle of the afternoon. They had stopped to eat, Mom said. "Have you eaten?" Mom asked. I shook my head in response. "Can you bring in the other bags," she said to Dad, "while I make this brat a sa ndwich?" By the time Dad brought in the rest of the stuff I was already wolfing down the sandwich. Dad was about to sit down to join us when Mom told him to go upstairs and have a nap before dinner and she'd be up in a few minutes after she made sur e I did the same. Mom busied herself putting stuff away in the cupboards but she didn't strike any seductive poses like she had in the morning, she was just her normal, efficient self. When she finished, she walked over near the doorway and leaned against the end o f the counter, facing me. I had just finished eating. Mom leaned over to wipe a bit of mustard from the corner of my mouth and I grabbed her hand, trying to pul l her toward me. "No," she pulled back hard enough that I let her hand go. "I really want you to have a rest." About to argue, I was silenced when Mom moved her hips in a small, seductive ova l. "Will you do as I ask?" , her strangely elusive morning smile returned. I nodded. "Yes." "Come on, then." Mom walked away and I followed her upstairs, greatly enjoying the action of her shorts as she led the way. She turned into her room, taking my hand and pulling me in behind her. Dad was in his usual sleeping position but was lying on top of the bed, fully clothed. "Thanks for your help, Michael. You know how useless Dad is at this kind of thin g," Mom spoke in a semi-whisper. I had no idea what she was talking about. She pulled me toward the walk-in close t and I turned to look at Dad and then forlornly at the makeup dresser that now held such a special place in my heart, and another organ. "Thank god I have someone to help me choose what to wear," Mom said in that same , half normal, half quiet voice. Dad was breathing regularly but wasn't snoring, and the room was barely dim even though the curtains had been drawn. Mom entered the closet and began moving clothes about, evidently not worried abo ut the noise of rustling hangers. I stood in the doorway, watching her petit but lithe body.

"How about this?" Mom held out a dress, still on its hanger. She quickly discard ed it and held another in front. "Or this?" I nodded to both. Mom retrieved two more dresses while I looked confused at the dresses she had so casually tossed to the floor, quite unlike her. "This one?" she asked, holding a green dress that nicely offset her long, auburn hair. "Or this?" Mom held up a similarly colored dress made of a silkier material. I nodded, "Yeah." Mom tossed the rejected dress to the floor and pulled the winner off its hanger. She held the dress out to me, "Hold this." I had to step inside the closet to reach the dress. Mom slipped her flats off, then said, "Turn away for a minute." I turned my head away but Mom's hand reached out and turned my face back toward her, holding it steady for a few seconds. I realized then the instruction was sp oken for my father's benefit. Looking me straight in the eye, Mom suddenly cross ed her arms, grabbed her top and pulled it over head, then tossed it to the floo r. Her mouth opened in a silent laugh as her breasts bounced on her chest, her e xpression of mirth fading to a smile as the enthusiastic chorus settled down, fl atter I'm sure than when she was young but now accompanied by larger, more matur e nipples. Mom seemed pleased by my very appreciative regard, my eyes actually j ouncing in unison. I stepped toward her but she held her hand up to stop my adva nce, taking the dress when I jerked to a stop. Mom pulled the dress over her head and settled it over her body. The front dippe d low in the front and left a wide gap through which the sides of her tits were visible. Looking down, following my gaze, Mom pulled the two sides of the dress together, fingers twisting some kind of snap into place that held the dress toge ther while still leaving tantalizing glimpses of the breasts underneath. She loo ked beautiful and very sexy. "Ok, you can look now. What do you think?" Her smile was huge, clearly showing h er pleasure. My thoughts were obvious but Mom suddenly seemed unhappy with the way the dress caught at her hips, pulled the hem up and fiddled about for a few seconds, then stooped down and pulled her shorts over her feet, tossing them onto the pile of discarded clothing. She smoothed the dress down over her almost nude body -- no, make that completely nude body as I now noticed a pair of panties inside the di scarded shorts -- bereft of anything unnatural that could cause an unseemly lump . "Well?" "Awesome Mom. You look really nice. Dad will be pleased." Mom smiled. "And you?" she whispered. I nodded enthusiastically, growing a huge smile, and started toward her again. M om motioned me to stop but wasn't fast enough to stop me from taking her into my arms and crushing her body against mine. I buried my mouth into her neck and mo aned, one hand sliding down over her bum while the other moved up to encompass h

er breast. "No, Michael, no," she hissed into my ear. "Not now," her whisper was urgent. Sh e pushed me away hard. I stood, slightly bent as if still holding her, panting, feeling empty. She stepped closer to me and whispered in my ear. "Daytime is for your dad; nigh ttime is for you," she consoled me. Pulling back at bit, she continued, "Go lay down for awhile and think of me, like I'm going to think of you, until tonight." Mom kissed my ear, brushing past me as she walked out of the closet. I composed myself and followed. Mom was already lying on the bed beside Dad. I w alked toward the door, but Mom called out before I reached it. "Wake us before dinner, Michael." I turned to look at her. She was lying on her back, propped up on a couple of pi llows with her feet stretched out but when my eyes turned her way, she pulled on e knee up and to the side, opening her legs and letting the dress slide down to her hips. One arm languidly stretched out, its hand lazily curling down, slowly dropping until it rested between her creamy thighs. Her fingers pressed in and m oved. "Ok dear?" she asked. I nodded, eyes gripped by her rustling fingers. She enjoyed her audience for a m oment, then shooed me away with her free hand. Reluctantly, I left. I almost yanked my cock off in the bathroom and, yes, I didn't think about anyth ing else but her. We had a quick dinner and got dressed for the theater. Mom came downstairs weari ng a different dress than the sexy number she had tried on earlier in the aftern oon. This one fell closer to her knees but displayed the top of her small bosom through a square-cut bodice that was large enough to almost show her nipples. He r legs attracted my attention because the high heels caused her calf muscles to tense nicely with each step. At the door, as Dad put his coat on, Mom asked me t o help her with a shawl she pulled out of her purse. As I stood behind her, arra nging the silky shawl with fashionably frayed edges, I couldn't help looking ove r her shoulder and down her dress at her loosely confined, braless breasts despi te the fact that my father was standing right next to us. At the car, I held the door for Mom and though the dress was conservative, I did enjoy the sight of Mom's lower legs as she teasingly pulled them slowly inside. The theater wasn't a fancy affair, it was more of a small community effort. Mom removed her shawl, folded it neatly, and put it on her knees. As she chatted to Dad, it fell between her legs and was in danger of falling to the floor except Mom caught it and pulled it higher. Mom checked the shawl's status several more times as she talked to my father, each investigation resulting in a short tug hi gher up the seat. I wasn't really that interested in the shawl, other than its r emoval from Mom's shoulders and subsequent revelation of her open-necked dress, but every time Mom assured its safety by pulling it further from the edge of the seat, her hand happened to brush the hem of her dress higher up her legs. Now, that was worth watching. At one point, Mom lifted and opened her legs to make room for the folded shawl, bringing her hem more than halfway up her thighs. Just before the play started, she pulled the shawl out and spread it over her lap but I noticed she didn't pus h her dress back down. Our seats were near the back under the balcony so when th

e play started and the lights dimmed, it became quite dark. After a while, my ey es grew accustomed to the darkness and I noticed that when Mom leaned forward to see better, catching the light from the stage, I could see down her bodice as t he material fell away from her breasts. I leaned forward with her to extend my v iewing time. Mom had laid her hands on each arm of her chair, one over mine and one over Dad' s. After one hard look down Mom's front, I looked over at Dad when Mom leaned ba ck to make sure he hadn't noticed my transgression. I don't think Mom was aware of my illicit attention but I was relieved to see that Dad was already glazed ov er and may have been actually dozing with his eyes open. Working my hand loose from Mom's grip, I let it fall from the armrest on Mom's s ide. Though I didn't move, I'm sure Mom was aware of the light touch on her thig h and, a minute later, I knew she had to have felt my hand move underneath the s hawl. I reasoned that her lack of response meant she had decided to allow my tou ch under the discreet cover of darkness even with, or maybe because of, my fathe r's presence right beside her. I played it safe for awhile, just letting my hand rest on Mom's thigh under the shawl. Mom quickly returned her attention to the play, periodically leaning forward in reaction to the play. Under the cover of one of these movements, I signaled my o wn pleasure by slightly digging my fingers into her thigh. I could tell she was aware of it by the tightening of the skin beside her eyes, but again, she allowe d it. It wasn't long before I did it again and soon I moved my hand from the out side of her thigh to the top, letting my fingers hang inside, and gently squeeze d her muscle there in a continuous, pulsing caress. Although it was about no mor e than I had accomplished on dates as an adolescent, it made me much more horny. I was sporting a very large boner and had difficulty trying to straighten it wi th my free hand without the person sitting next to me realizing what I was doing . Much later, I was startled by the intermission but managed to extract my hand as light flooded the theater. Dad opened his eyes, trying to look like he'd been w atching all along. Perhaps feeling guilty, he eagerly offered to get Mom somethi ng from the concession when she declined the invitation to stretch her legs with him. Mom didn't mention my leg activity to me after he left but chatted about t he play before asking me if I was enjoying myself; a leading question. I enthusi astically assured her that I was just as Dad retuned. The second act started sho rtly thereafter. Mom fidgeted in her seat for the first few minutes but she eventually settled do wn. I watched Dad to see if he was now sufficiently refreshed to pay more attent ion but he soon acquired the glazed look he displayed through the first half of the play. When I observed that, I dropped my hand to the side of Mom's leg and q uickly slid under the shawl to resume massaging her thigh. I could feel the hem of Mom's dress under my palm but was startled to feel a new material with my fingers. It was her nylons but it wasn't the harsher material that encompassed most of a woman's legs, it was the softer band of material at t he top that wound around the upper thigh. I turned to look at her just as the au dience broke into gentle laughter and Mom leaned forward again as she had in res ponse to similar stage moments. I had the feeling, though, that this time Mom's amusement wasn't all directed at the play. She didn't look at me but I think she quite enjoyed my surprise at finding that her dress had moved significantly hig her, almost up to her panties. The next time Mom leaned forward, I leaned with her, sliding my hand between her legs towards her knees. When she leaned back, I followed, pulling my hand back to the hem of her dress. My fingers came to rest above the top of her nylons on

bare skin. Oh man, the softness of a mature woman's thighs. Even then, at that a ge, I knew that girls may have tighter skin but it lacked the softness found on a mature woman. I don't know why that is, it just is. Anyway, when my fingers first felt the tender inside of her thigh, I pushed my h and deeper between her legs, down to the seat cushion, and curled my hand so my fingers were pointing back toward her panties. Mom's hand moved quickly in respo nse to my move but I was surprised when, instead of blocking or grabbing my hand , she simply rearranged the shawl to better cover my presence in her lap. As soon as I realized what she'd done, I moved my fingers up and down, brushing the inside of both legs since I was so close to her sexy 'V'. So incredibly soft to the touch, the feeling accentuated by the heat emanating from her center. I was intensely excited as my fingers plied her sensitive tissue while my eyes fix ated on the stage props. I wasn't capable of following an actor around. I tickle d the inside of Mom's legs for a long time and I knew she loved it because she t ried several times to shift closer to my teasing fingers, and once even attempte d to pull my hand back. What stopped me from pushing my fingers onto her panties, you might ask, or even into her waiting pussy? Concern about getting caught? No, I was too far gone fo r that to even cross my mind. Why then? Payback, that's why. Just as I was about to push my fingers onto her damp panties, and maybe beyond, I remembered the way she had teased me in the afternoon. 'Not in the day' she ha d said. Well, I'd show her what it felt like to come so close only to be denied. I couldn't do anything for myself anyway, not in here, and if I kept it up, I m ight not be able to walk out of the theater without borrowing Mom's shawl to cov er a pair of wet pants. Mercilessly, I fluttered my fingers near Mom's pussy but refused to bless her wi th a direct touch. It was probably just as well since she probably would have ha d an obvious orgasm, as I was in danger of doing. That didn't stop me from teasi ng her, suddenly flicking my fingertips near after drawing further and further a way, only to repeat the long slow progression of my fluttering fingers back up h er thighs. This time, I barely managed to get my hand out when the lights came on and Mom s truggled to get her dress pulled down without being noticed, especially by Dad. Thank god he was groggy and nobody else was paying us any attention. I had to st eady Mom several times as we left the theater. At the car, Mom didn't stop her d ress from riding up her legs as she sat in the seat before swinging her feet ins ide the car, and Dad surprised me by getting into the back seat behind Mom. "You better drive, Mike. I had a little wine at intermission." He could have only had one glass more than an hour earlier so I was sure he was ok to drive. He clearly wanted to snooze in the back to avoid dissection of the play and risk providing incriminating evidence of his lack of knowledge about th e show. By the time I had started the car, done up my belt, and turned around to back out of the parking space, Dad had closed his eyes and stretched his legs i nto snoozing position. Turning forward to put the car in drive, I saw that Mom's dress was more than halfway to her hips, leaving a lot of her thighs showing, e nough that I could see bare skin above the tops of her nylons. In her struggle w ith the seatbelt, she had leaned toward me and was sitting closer to the middle of the car than the door, and slightly facing my way. I maneuvered the car into line and slowly made our way out of the parking lot wi

th everyone else. I checked the mirror to make sure Dad's eyes were still closed and was pleased to observe his head lolling against the rear seat. Though we we ren't yet out of the parking lot and the car was awash in light from nearby stor es and cars, I reached over to put my hand possessively on Mom's thigh, fingers draping between her legs. Mom's gaze remained fixed ahead. She didn't react at a ll. Encouraged, I pushed my hand deep between her legs, like I had in the theate r, and slid it back toward her. This time, I cupped her panties with my fingers, letting them move a little as w e inched along. We were driving alongside a sidewalk and one couple definitely n oticed my hand shoved up Mom's dress as they walked by but Mom ignored them, see mingly unaware of their presence let alone their giggles and stares. By the time we left the parking lot and turned into the street, I was actively rubbing Mom' s panties and evenly dividing my attention between the road, the mirror to check on Dad, and watching my hand moving between her legs. She had her first orgasm as we curved away from the street and accelerated up th e on ramp. As soon as I safely merged into the slow lane and then over into the middle lane, I pulled my hand up until my fingers could push underneath Mom's pa nties. I shoved them into her wet slit as I attained highway speed. Driving down the highway, I gently moved my fingers up and down in her slit, slowly finding it easier and easier to fit inside her. I played around for quite awhile before suddenly pushing two fingers inside her. I jiggled my hand as I drove, amused by how she managed to appear as if nothing was happening. Did she realize Dad was dozing with his eyes closed? After all, he wasn't snoring and she didn't have a rear view mirror like I did. We were more than halfway home when Mom suddenly gr abbed my arm and started gently humping my hand. She wasn't loud but if Dad had been awake there would have been no doubt about what was happening. "Oh god, oh god ... uhhhh ... unnnnggghhh ... uhhhh ... unnhhh ... unnnnh ... un nggghh ... ohhhhh." When she finished her heavy panting and stopping grinding on my hand, she lifted it from her panties and pushed it away, as if discarding a soiled utensil. I re turned my hand to the wheel as Mom fidgeted in her seat, pushing her dress down and fixing her hair. I drove on for several miles. "What did you think of the play?" I asked, breaking the silence. That started a very normal back and forth about the merits of the play, which ac tors we had liked or disliked, scenes that were good and parts we thought could have been done better, mostly by Mom. The conversation continued until we got ho me. Dad snoozed until the car was stopped and we woke him. Everyone went in the house and immediately headed for bed, including me. It had been one hell of a ni ght. But it wasn't over. I waited for fifteen minutes and then wandered down to Mom and Dad's room ... na ked. Their room was dark, lit only by the light from the hallway as I quietly stepped inside. I could hear Dad's characteristic snore. I waited for my eyes to acclim atize to the darkness, smiling to myself, knowing that Mom was probably not slee ping and had likely heard me come in. She had to know I would come for her. Several more minutes passed. Dad's snoring was monotonously consistent, as was M om's silence. Now able to make out the dim shapes of the larger pieces of furnit ure in the room, I walked across the end of the bed and down my mother's side. I looked down at her still body, knowing she wasn't sleeping even though she acte

d as though she was. Leaning down, I slowly pulled the covers back, revealing he r beautiful, naked body. I smiled again. She hadn't even put on a nightie. I grasped her hand and tugged but she resisted, confirming that she was indeed a wake. I pulled harder and she applied an equal effort to remain where she was bu t when I upped the ante, she couldn't call and slowly slipped off the mattress, pushing her feet ahead of her captured hand so she didn't fall to the floor. I helped her stand up, slipping my arm around her back and curling my hand onto her waist. With my free hand, I smoothed her hair back over her shoulders and aw ay from her face. When I was done, I cupped the back of her neck and head, and k issed her. She resisted at first but eventually she was kissing me back as much as I was kissing her. Our lips and tongues dueled as much as our bodies writhed together, pushing and straining, my hard cock trapped between our soft bellies, bathed in the cadence of my father's gentle snore. When my legs started to tremble, I pulled Mom toward the door. She followed, pro bably thinking I was taking her to my room and that I would have dragged her aga in if she resisted. I had intended to take her to my room but when we were at th e end of the bed, I changed my mind. I turned Mom around to face the bed and app lied pressure on her shoulders, urging her down. Understanding, Mom complied, fa lling to her knees, leaning forward to rest her head on the end of the mattress, her hands rising to grip its edge and her ass pushing back on spread legs, read y. As much as I had loved the look of her white shorts this morning, nothing compar ed to her bare ass. I fell to my knees behind Mom, admiring her shapely cheeks i n the dim light from the hallway, reaching out to touch them, to cup their sligh tly sagging fullness in my hands, lifting and spreading, opening her pussy for m y cock. I nudged my head into her slit and slowly pushed, conquering resistance the full length of her silky channel until she was fully cocked. I held myself f irmly ensconced inside nirvana, enjoying the simple peace of this maternal sanct uary for a magic moment. And then something wonderful happened. Mom started fucking my shaft. First it wa s just a little lift and resettlement, as if she was adjusting an uncomfortable position. But then she lifted and pushed back down on my shaft a little further, her tightness scraping over my root, only to repeat her little mini fuck a coup le of seconds later. Soon, I was kneeling, reaching back to brace myself on my h eels, while my mother fucked me. In my short sexual history, I had never been wi th a woman who was so horny that she took over, and fucked me. I loved it. Mom w as really going now and her sounds showed she was really into it. Needing to act, I pulled her away from the bed and turned her ninety degrees, pu shing on her back until she laid her head on the floor. She kept working her hip s up and down on my cock and I encouraged her, keeping myself closely aligned to her upturned ass to make it easy for her, surprising her every once in a while with a vigorous lunge into her cunt, my thighs slapping against hers. She moaned loudly when I did that so I did it again a minute later. Before long, I was lea ning over and lunging hard into her every few strokes and then I was hammering f ast, desperate for release, fucking, slamming, cumming, oh ... cumming ... cummi ng. I squirted and squirted and, when I stopped, she fell away, leaving me finished but still panting on my hands and knees. She lay on her stomach below me but soo n turned around to face me, opening her legs, stretching her feet up to curl aro und my back, lifting herself until her tummy pressed against mine, her pussy sea rching, moving around, finding my cock and then pushing, squeezing and forcing h erself onto me, pulling tight with her clamping feet, her body completely off th e floor, hanging from me.

And then she began again, her face hanging below mine, eyes demanding as her hip s ground on my hardening cock. How could a woman be so incredibly erotic? Braced on all fours, this sexy woman, my own mother, writhed against my body, squeezing my cock with each downward pu ll, forcing her pussy open with each exquisite upward shove, repeatedly opening the collapsing tunnel my cock had just vacated. Her mouth was busy around my nec k, licking, sucking, latching onto my mouth, kissing, falling away, head hanging down and laughing, jerking back up to whisper urgent fuck sounds in my ear, tel ling me she needed it, to give it to her, asking if I liked it. If I hadn't just emptied myself inside her I couldn't have taken more than a min ute of that without blowing my load. As it was, it was barely more than three mi nutes when my cock gushed forth again. Her legs clamped around me like a vice as if it would be a crime for her to miss a single drop of my jiz. Mom's legs loosened and she fell to the carpet. I followed, into her open legs, gasping for breath, confessing my love for her. My breathing returned to normal over the next few minutes but as soon as I was calm, Mom's husky laughter spille d over my ears again. "Did you like that Michael?" The husky laugh followed her query. "Was it worth t he teasing? Hmmmm?" I raised my head to look into her laughing eyes. "Get off me you big oaf," she said, pushing my chest with her small hands. Stunned, I rose up to my knees and then stood, taking the hand she offered and h elping her to her feet. I tried to take her into my arms but her small hand pres sed against my chest and pushed me back. "Go to bed, now. We have a big day tomorrow." With that, Mom turned and walked away but she half turned at the corner of the b ed to look back at me, eyes delighted by the confused look on my face, and perha ps the direction of my gaze, on her ass with its jutting cheeks, deliciously mol ded by the twist of her legs as she strained to face me. "Would you like to learn how to braid my hair?" Her face broke out into a huge smile and her dancing eyes stayed on me as she wa lked seductively along the bed, lifting the covers and sliding her naked body, s hiny with our sweat, next to my father. "Goodnight," she whispered, dismissing me as she closed her eyes. Would I like to learn how to braid Mom's hair? Well, yeah! I looked closely at Mom's hair the next morning while eating breakfast. Her hair really was beautiful, a slightly wavy chestnut brown that fell a third of the w ay down her back. The swirl of her mane about her shoulders as she moved around the kitchen made my dick tingle and I loved it when she pulled her hair back fro m her face, tipping her head to let if fall over her shoulders. I could hardly w ait until tonight when I could get my fingers in it. But that wasn't to be. Mom went out with her friends for dinner and didn't retur n until late. I waited up but she went into her room before I could get out of m ine to greet her, shutting the door behind her. What was up? Had I angered her?

I reviewed the day in my mind, the morning and brief interaction after school, b ut couldn't find anything I might have said or done that could have upset her. D isappointed, I retreated to bed and consoled myself with spanking the monkey. Tuesday. This was the day. Nope. Mom had to attend a business function with Dad. I waited but the door was shut a gain after my parents went to bed. Mom was aloof the next morning. I really must have done something but I couldn't think of what no matter how hard I racked my brain. Wednesday. Same standoffish mother, morning and night. Thursday, the same. Had she been visited by Guilt Friday. Chipper mom. All bright and smiley, wearing a plain white, sleeveless co tton blouse that hid her small but perky assets, tucked into a pair of form-fitt ing, dark navy blue shorts. I had an instant crotch rise at the breakfast table as I looked at her long legs and shapely bottom, and was barely able to contain myself when she stood in front of me, right leg and hip slightly forward, stretc hing her shorts tightly over the prominence of her puffy mound. "What are you up for this morning, sweetie?" Mom purred as if the past week's al oofness was a figment of my imagination. "To eat?" I asked, looking up, unable to keep hope from the tenor of my voice. Mom smiled at my obvious hint, pushed her knee further forward and watched my ey es stray down to the front of her plush shorts, sensuously rocking her hips in a slow tease. "And to drink. What would please your taste buts most this morning?" the twinkle in Mom's eyes produced sparks in my cock, causing it to throb painfully in my j eans. I want to throw you on the floor and fuck your brains out, my head screamed, but my mouth silkily mewed, "Whatever's easiest for you, Mom." "How about yogurt and fruit again?" she asked. "Sure, that would be great." Mom pivoted on her feet and tensed her buttocks before strolling slowly to the f ridge. A moment later she returned with two bowls. I had watched her the whole t ime, keeping a tab on my father every time his newspaper rustled to make sure he was behind it, unable to see me ogling my own mother. "Which one do you want?" Mom asked, setting the bowls down on the table. "This o ne's French vanilla and this one's lemon." Mom dipped her finger in one and moved it quickly to my mouth, inserting it betw een my lips and pushing it all the way in, sliding along my tongue. My eyes were saucers as she slowly dragged her finger out, scooped it through the other bowl and returned it to my mouth, wiggling on my tongue for a few seconds before ret racting it the same teasing way. "Well?" Her face literally dripped amusement, heightened, I'm sure, by my shocke d visage. Mom turned and walked to the fridge, returning with a container of orange juice

to pour two glasses while standing in the same, sexy stance with knee bent and h ip cocked forward. "You can have this one," she pushed the bowl with lemon yogurt toward me, "and w e'll find something sweet for you later today." Again the big smile. Mom sat down to eat her yogurt and fruit. She crossed her legs under the table a nd her foot bumped against my leg. Something was definitely up. Today was the da y, my brain sang, as song that was interrupted by Dad suddenly rustling his pape r as he flipped pages, the noise covering the clatter of Mom's sandal dropping t o the floor. Mom's bare foot pried between my knees as my father snapped the pap er before burying his face again, a moment later mumbling to himself as Mom's to es scratched my thigh just above my knee. "Eat up," Mom said, nodding at my barely touched bowl, pushing her spoon into he r mouth and turning it over to suck the yogurt off like she had a week ago. This time, when she pulled the spoon from her mouth she kept it near and her tongue snaked out to lick the already clean metal. Mom smiled innocently at me as her t ongue flicked around the spoon. "Don't you want to eat it?" she asked, her eyes flickering as a mischievous smil ed formed on her face. "Yeah Mom, I do," I assured her, digging my spoon in the bowl. Before I could ea t it, Mom stretched her hand out and put her spoon in front of my mouth. When I leaned forward to take it she pulled it away but followed as I pulled my head ba ck. Her eyes sparkled. I stuck my tongue out and she nodded. Quickly, I licked t he spoon and found that a strangely erotic taste lingered from its presence in h er mouth and the slithering bath of her sexy tongue. "Slowly," Mom said, "or you'll give yourself an upset stomach." I dutifully followed her motherly advice and she nodded approval as my tongue ba thed her spoon, trying to imitate the writhing action applied by her own tongue. When Dad shook the paper again in preparation for turning pages, Mom yanked the spoon away. After he settled in again, she stood, picked up her empty dishes, a nd stepped close to me. "Oh, look what I've done," she said, looking down at the gob of white yogurt spi lled on her dark blue shorts, looking helpless with a glass in one hand and the bowl in the other. "Can you get that for me, Michael?" I was slow to react. What was she asking? I looked at Dad, or at least the newsp aper covering everything except his hand and the top of his head. I looked back at the creamy gob on the front of Mom's shorts. Her hips moved, thrusting her pe lvis toward me in the same motion she had teased me with earlier. Her pelvis sto pped, and she waited. I dropped my spoon and swung my right hand around toward Mom's shorts until it w as half an inch away under the offending dollup of yogurt. Casting a nervous gla nce at my father, I pushed my hand forward, crooking my finger into a half cup a nd pressing it against Mom's blue shorts just under the yogurt, right on her pub ic mound. The yogurt peeled off onto my fingers. I looked at it, resting in my cupped fing ers, then raised it to my lips and sucked it into my mouth. "Get all of it Michael," Mom said in a quieter voice. Her eyes were on me. She d idn't look at Dad.

I put my finger back against her mound and rubbed. Up ... pulled back and down w ithout breaking contact ... then up again. I rubbed up and down her shorts, righ t over her pussy. I could feel the crevice dividing her secret lips even under t he tight shorts, especially when Mom pushed her mound against my fingers as they rubbed. I kept rubbing, up and down, until the paper rattled again and Mom turn ed away, walking toward the counter, ass moving delectably under the tight short s, hands with dishes crooked to the sides and moving with the sway of her hips. I was left with my hand and fingers hanging out, toward Mom's retreating behind, as if I was making a point in conversation. My face went red as I turned toward Dad to explain myself, but he had already re turned to his paper. I could hear Mom putting her glass and bowl in the sink and turned to see her walking back toward me, a round damp stain marking the spot w here I had removed the yogurt. "I'd better go up and change these," she said, walking past me and out of the ki tchen. I looked down at my own lap and the wet spot staining my jeans. I had cum in my pants and hadn't even been aware of it. I extricated myself from the table and b eat a hasty retreat upstairs to my room. I threw my soiled jeans and shorts in t he laundry basket, put on a robe, and went to the bathroom to get a shower. Step ping out, I was surprised to find Mom looking in the mirror, though it was fogge d up. She was wearing a different pair of tight shorts. "Do these look ok?" she asked, putting her thumbs under the waistband on each hi p and jutting her behind toward me, beautifully detailing her prominent cheeks a nd completely ignoring the fact that I was stark naked. I stepped close to her, my dangling cock pressing into her behind. She scooted f orward, breaking contact. "You'll get me all wet, silly," Mom giggled, turning around before I could regai n the softness of her ass. "Anyway," she said, "its daytime." My face fell. "But make sure you come straight home from school," she said. Was she going to give me a treat before Dad got home? My face brightened. "Do you hear?" Mom demanded. I nodded eagerly just as Mom's soft little hand closed over my cock at the base, her fingers stretching down to cup my balls. "Promise me," she whispered. "I promise," I answered in a high pitch, barely able to speak. Mom's fingers closed over my cock, twisted around and squeezed up my shaft, her thumb rubbing across the bottom of my glans. "Good boy," she said, stretching up on her toes to kiss me lightly on my mouth, tongue poking just inside and sliding sideways back and forth across my lips, be fore pushing in for a brief kiss. Settling down on her heels, she said, "I'm looking forward to tonight." She stepped around me and was gone, leaving me standing there with a huge boner.

I turned to the toilet and started jacking off. Mom wasn't there when I came home from school. "We're on our own," Dad said when he came in. "Mom's gone to a show with the gir ls," he explained. We ordered in pizza. Dad had just gone up to bed when Mom came home about ten. "Hi baby," she greeted me cheerily, hanging her coat up in the closet. "Where's your Dad?" She was wearing a nice dress that clung to her slender frame, a matching, integr ated belt emphasizing her hips. She walked toward me, eyes questioning. "In bed," I answered sullenly. "Already?" Mom said in a tone that didn't really demand an answer. "I thought you wanted me to braid your hair," I said, sounding sullen. "Oh, I completely forgot. Marge called," she explained. "The girls wanted to go to this new show and, well, you know." Mom regarded me with that apologetic look that women sometimes use, knowing you can't must forgive them for whatever tran sgression was involved, real or not. "I'm sorry honey. I hope I didn't mess up y our plans with your friends for nothing." I shook my head. "Can you do it tomorrow night? Please?" Mom knew I had already forgiven her. "Sure," I said. "Can I show you a little bit tonight so you know what to do tomorrow?" she press ed. I nodded. "Great. Come on." Mom grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the stairs. "Dad just went to bed," I said, looking at the kitchen, much preferring to fondl e her hair there, in private. "That's ok. He's probably asleep already." Mom paused halfway up the stairs to remove her high heels. Somehow that innocent ly normal action cranked up the sexual tension and she looked so hot walking ahe ad of me in her stocking feet, her buttocks patiently taking turns bulging again st her dress. Dad wasn't sleeping. He was sitting up in bed reading and I immediately felt unc omfortable but Mom wasn't fussed at all. "Hi dear. I'm going to show Michael how to braid my hair so he can do it for me tomorrow night," Mom explained as she pulled me toward their ensuite bathroom. Without looking up, Dad asked, "Did you have fun with the girls?" "Yes," Mom said without slowing her pace, knowing that was all the exchange that was needed, expected, or wanted.

I followed Mom inside and stood behind her as she stepped up to the sink and loo ked at herself in the mirror. The door was open and as I looked over Mom's shoul der I could see the mirrored door, and through it, my father from the side, sitt ing up in bed reading his book. "These have been killing me all night," Mom was saying. She had raised her dress up and slid her hands underneath from the sides. She ducked and her pantyhose a ppeared around her knees and were pushed down her legs so her feet could step ou t and kick them aside. Mom looked at me in the mirror. "Ok, now watch what I do." She proceeded to give me a lesson on braiding hair, showing me by doing it herse lf with several strands she picked on the right side of her head, toward the fro nt. She talked steadily as the demonstration proceeded, and I wondered if it was for my benefit, or my father's. I leaned closer and closer to her as I looked o ver her shoulder and my pelvis was eventually pressed tightly against her behind . She had looked up and caught my eyes when I first made contact, and smiled, be fore glancing to the side at the reflection in the bathroom door of my father. H e had slumped down in the bed but was still reading. Mom's ass wiggled against my sweatpants and the hard cock underneath settled int o her womanly notch. "We'll have to finish this tomorrow night," she said, pushing back and rubbing h er ass on me. God, she was such a fucking cock tease. "Maybe you should do another one," I said. "I haven't quite got it yet." I pushe d, pressing my cock along the length of her crack. "Alright, one more," she said. "But then I have to get to bed." I ground my cock into her ass in appreciation. "Unhook me," she whispered, loud enough for only me to hear, holding her hair up from her neck. I struggled but finally managed to undo the little hook above the zipper on Mom' s dress. Mom let her hair fall over my hand still at the back of her neck. Looki ng over her shoulder into her eyes in the mirror, I grasped the zipper and very slowly pulled it down her back, trying hard not to make a sound. I had sufficien t presence of mind to take advantage of the rustling as Dad turned to a new page in his book, quickly running the zipper down to Mom's hips. Mom tipped her head to the side and started braiding a strand on the other side of her face. She didn't seem surprised when my hands slid around her waist, insi de her dress, and moved up her tummy to cup her breasts. Her training voice star ted again, repeating the same instructions she had used the first time. Her voic e was calm and didn't change as my hands slid over the top of her breasts and sq ueezed her tits, my fingers finding and pinching her nipples, rolling and tuggin g. God, how I loved her nipples. They were like two perfect little cylinder, juttin g out, waiting to be teased. I wanted to suck them and I whispered as much in he r ear, digging my hard cock into her soft behind. "Tomorrow," she whispered, her voice faltering a bit as I tugged her nipples out far enough to pull her breasts away from her chest.

"Now," I insisted, dropping her tits back to her chest and rolling her nipples b etween my fingers. "Tomorrow night," she countered. "I can't wait," I gasped into her ear. "Tomorrow," she pleaded. "In the day?" I bargained. A pause. "Alright." "In the morning?" A shorter pause. "Alright." The light snapping off in the bedroom startled us both. I slid my hands down to Mom's waist and out of her dress, stepping back so my cock wasn't pressed betwee n her cheeks but not so far that the huge pyramid in my sweatpants wouldn't be r eadily apparent should Dad suddenly walk through the bathroom door. Try as I mig ht, I couldn't see anything in the bedroom, it was too dark. Mom was looking too , her eyes straining to see though she continued braiding her hair. Clearly Dad had decided to go to sleep, but had he turned this way? Was he watch ing us? Obviously he could see us in the mirror if we could see him before he tu rned out the light. What was he doing? The air was taut with tension. Would he s uddenly burst angrily through the door? What was he doing? My eyes weren't accom modating to the darkened room, not standing here in the bright bathroom, so my e ars strained for telltale sounds that he was either coming or going to sleep. We kept up our act of learning to braid Mom's hair. Several minutes passed but I still couldn't see or hear anything. My cock, aching for the press of her ass, pushed back between her buns. Mom, looking panicked, shook her head vigorously i n short, sharp movements. I held her waist to stop her from leaving, relaxing wh en she didn't seem about to go, letting my hands slip under her dress once more. I didn't dare to move up to hold her tits. It would be too obvious, but I did pu sh my hands around her hips to rest on her belly and, after no outraged bellow f rom the other room, I thought it safe to let them move, brushing lightly across her lower tummy, trying not to raise a visible profile under the dress. I was shocked when my fingertips brushed through Mom's pubic hair. She wasn't we aring panties! My cock throbbed on her ass, the ass that had been naked under th e dress all along. I leaned down into her neck and groaned, pushing my hand lowe r, meshing in her pussy hair and pulling her ass tighter against my cock. Mom's eyes darted toward the bedroom and her hands dropped from her hair, down t o her hips. I held her tighter, ready to fight to retain access to her pussy and ass, but I didn't have to. Mom's hands worked at her sides and I realized that she was pulling her dress up, baring her ass. I pulled my hands out and down, gr abbing her dress and helping to pull it over her hips as I felt Mom's hands reac h back to push my sweatpants down. I bent my knees to help her get the waistband over my boner and wasted no time getting it against her hot skin as soon as it flopped clear. Throwing caution to the wind, I humped my cock between her cheeks, moving my han ds up under her dress to grab her tits again. If Dad came in to kill me, it was worth it. I pulled my cock back and poked at her, trying to find her fuckhole.

"Let me," I rasped in her ear. Mom's arms were stretched over her head, elbows bent to allow her hands to hold my head. "No," she whispered frantically. "Just rub me 'til you cum." Mom moved her ass up and down, encouraging me to do as she asked but I wanted to fuck her and kept trying to get my cock in her. We struggled for a couple of mi nutes and I finally gave up, realizing I couldn't get it in her moving, twisting target unless she let me. I panted in her ear as I stood, cock slowly grinding against her ass as she pushed it back to goad me on. That's when we heard Dad's gentle snore. I looked in the mirror, into Mom's eyes , and pulled my cock back, sliding it under her ass and between her legs, search ing in her damp heat. Holding my gaze, Mom leaned forward and allowed her slit t o find me, opening, sucking my eager cock inside. I loved the almost pained look on her face and the way her mouth opened as I sho ved my cock all the way in. "Unnngghh." Again. "Unnnghhhh." Ahhhh, the way she lifted with each thrust. I liked that so much I stretched up on my toes just to see her face at the moment she was completely suspended on my cock. As Dad's snoring grew louder, I really began shoving into her, long hard lunges and mom hung her head down as I bounced her ass up and down. Her hair had fallen around the sink but I grabbed a handful to pull her head up so I could w atch her face as I fucked her faster and faster. I couldn't stop. I was like a t rain, steadily gaining speed, never slowing, always faster and faster. I reached in front to rub my fingertip on her clit, then crooked my long finger and slid it into her cunt, on top of my cock, feeling it slide back and forth, jiggling m y hand around as I fucked, pounding against her ass. She started making the little sounds I was now familiar with and changed into an accompanying characteristic breathing pattern. She was close, near her orgasm. I sucked her ear into my mouth and felt her cunt flood me with her fluid, trigge ring my own explosive eruption. I jerked and jerked, convulsing inside her until I had nothing left to give, finally letting go and letting her head fall forwar d again. She gasped for breath, her dress caught on her hips, legs open, my cum trickling down the inside of one thigh. Fuck she was so hot. If I could sleep with her, I knew I'd fuck her again before morning. A picture flashed in my head of me waking up and sliding my cock insid e her while she was still sleeping, waiting for her eyes to open so I could see her joy at feeling her son's cock inside her again. I needed to get Dad out of t own. I had to sleep with Mom. I pulled my sweatpants up and kissed Mom on the ba ck, between her open dress. "Tomorrow morning," I whispered. I went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night with a huge hardon. I got up and wandered d own the hall to find Mom and Dad's door closed. I pushed but it didn't budge. I pushed harder without further success. Had Mom jammed it with a door stop? Somet

hing was blocking it. I gave up and went back to bed. In the morning, I found Dad alone in the kitchen, drinking his coffee and readin g the Saturday paper. He looked up when I came in. "It's Mother's day tomorrow." "Yeah?" I responded, getting a bowl out of the cupboard. "Yeah," Dad replied. "I want you to be extra nice to your mother today. You shou ld braid her hair for her like she asked." "I was going to do that anyway," I said, pouring some granola with raisins into the bowl. "That's good. Make sure you tell her it looks great, no matter what." "I will Dad," I assured him as I opened the fridge to get some milk. Mom sauntered in while my head was buried in the fridge, saying good morning and adding, in an explanatory tone, "All my shorts are in the laundry." I almost dropped the milk when I pulled my head out of the fridge. Dad was focus ed on the paper, spread flat on the table rather than held up with his face in i t, and Mom was reaching up to get a box of cereal out of the cupboard above the counter behind me. She was wearing a short, light blue jean skirt with frayed ed ges. I mean short. One foot lifted from the floor as Mom strained to reach the cereal, highlighting the muscles in her supporting leg. I didn't help her, I just straightened up an d watched her, milk bottle in one hand, fridge door still open. Mom turned around and took the milk from my hand. "Thanks," she said. She poured the cereal in a bowl, got a coffee, added milk to each, and walked ou tside to have her breakfast on the patio. Belatedly, I poured milk on my granola and put it away before joining Dad at the table. "You should have said something about how nice she looks." "What?" I looked at Dad, surprised. "You should have said something about her legs." "About Mom's legs?" I said, my voice rising an octave. "Mm hmm. She does this every once in a while, usually just before her birthday o r Mother's day, whenever she's feeling older." My memory told me Dad was right but I hadn't really noticed it before. But thing s had changed. "I've never heard her ..." "Well, that because she says it to me. She gets all antsy but calms down after f ew compliments about her hair, or her legs. She works hard on both, you know." Dad cleared his throat, then went on.

"Women need to feel men's attention though they often profess to spurn it. Your mother's not a buxom woman. A bigger woman would wear a revealing blouse. Women like your mother emphasize other things, like their hair or legs. They all have something and know how to use it, just to get a few glances, to let them know th ey still have it." Dad cleared his throat again. "Your mother has nice legs and hair, so you should say something about them." Thus, my father imparted his wisdom about women to me. "But it'll sound weird coming from me," I argued. "Won't matter," Dad changed to a new page. "A compliment's a compliment. Tell yo u what. I'll ask her to get my prescription filled and you take her down to the mall to the drug store. She's sure to get a few admiring looks in that skirt, an d she'll feel save with you along." When Mom came in the house, Dad talked her into getting his prescription but he wanted me to so I could check the oil in the car. "Anyway," he added laughing, as if making joke, "I need someone to protect my in terests if you're going to wear a skirt like that." "I'll get changed then," Mom huffed. "No no," Dad laughed. "Don't cover up those gorgeous legs. They're really someth ing, aren't they son?" "Uh yeah, Dad. They really are," I said awkwardly. "They sure are and I want everyone to know what a lucky guy I am. But you be the re to make sure no one bothers your mom." "I will Dad." Looking exasperated, Mom walked out of the house. I caught up and we drove to th e mall where the closest drug store was located. I noticed that Mom had undone a couple of buttons on the jean shirt she wore to match her skirt, I suppose beca use it was hot outside in the sun, but she had forgotten to do them back up. I w asn't about to remind her, thinking her chest looked pretty good this morning. S he must be wearing one of those push-up bras. As we walked through the mall, Mom did garner a few looks from passing men but M om ignored them and simply increased her business-like pace. She didn't do anyth ing I could see to attract attention to herself. I guess she wasn't as keen to s how off her wares as Dad thought. In the drug store, we walked straight to the b ack counter to place our order. There was one older man sitting in the little Ushaped waiting area, waiting for his prescription. His head rose when Mom walked by him and his eyes fixed on her bare legs and short skirt, landing on her ass. He didn't see me at first but only glanced away from Mom for a second when he d id. He wasn't shy. I sat in a chair opposite the old man and watched him look at Mom. I couldn't bl ame him, she did look sexy. After placing her order, Mom sat beside me, legs hel d demurely together. The old fella's eyes followed her all the way to her chair and locked onto her slender legs.

"You've got a fan, just like Dad said," I whispered to Mom. Mom nodded, seeming a bit annoyed. "Poor old guy, probably doesn't get to look at legs like yours often," I said. " He probably has to rent dirty movies." Mom laughed out loud. "No doubt," she said, looking at me, eyes sparkling. A funny look flashed over her face. She raised her right foot and crossed it ove r her left knee toward me, her eyes holding mine and she let her leg fall snugly onto the other. "Did your father say I should let the guys see what a lucky man he is?" she aske d, eyes glinting. I nodded and Mom raised her right leg and pulled it to the side until just its a nkle was resting on the other knee, opening her thighs to provide a shocking vie w for the older man. Mom's eyes were intent on mine, as if she was unaware that the stranger must be able to see not just her legs but her panties too. She held that pose until the pharmacist approached the counter and called our name. The old fellow followed her legs all the way to the counter. I stood and walked over to stand by Mom, leaving a clear line of sight for the old guy. When the ph armacist took Mom's credit card to process it, I put my hand possessively on Mom 's skirt, directly over her right buttock. In the car, Mom burst out laughing. "That was a riot," she roared, slapping her thighs and leaning back in the seat, covering her eyes with one hand. "Oh, I was so bad. I gave him such a view." Mom opened her legs wide, replaying her saucy action. I looked down at her dark blue panties, covered with a lacy, flowered design. No wonder he hadn't looked a way. The panties were molded to her prominent pussy mound so tightly that there was a distinctive line, slightly dipped in, marking the meeting of her pussy lip s. Mom's laughing stopped and I was aware of her hand pulling away from her now que stioning eyes. "Do you think he could see the pretty design?" I asked. "You mean this one?" Mom opened her thighs wider and pulled her skirt higher. "Yeah," my voice lowered to a husky whisper. "I don't know. Can you see it from that far away?" I leaned toward Mom, resting my elbow on the middle of the seat, twisting to get past the steering wheel. Mom shifted her hips so she was pointing more toward t he middle of the car and pushed her left knee against the back of the seat. "Is that some kind of flower?" I asked, leaning over, my face hovering above her thighs. "Yes," Mom husked. "What kind?" I stretched to get my face closer to her panties. "Pussy willow," Mom panted.

"Aren't they soft?" I asked as Mom's fingers threaded through the hair on the ba ck of my head. "Yes." I pushed Mom's left leg higher so I could get closer. "Really soft?" "See for yourself." I stuck out my tongue and let it taste Mom's blue panties. Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling me closer, mashing my mouth against her panties. I pushed m y tongue out as far as I could and dragged it up her pussy until it was flattene d over her mound. I shook my head sideways and rubbed my tongue over her puffine ss but soon traced a circular path around its edge, kind of like I was cranking a small engine ... spin ... pause ... spin ... pause. Mom's panties became wet f rom her juice and my saliva. My wiggling tongue had inserted itself between her lips, surrounding by my mouth, when she first cried out. "Oh god. Michael, Michael," she cried, pulling me hard with her hand and thrusti ng her cunt against my face in a rapid series of facefucks. "Uhhh ... uhhhh ... unnnnghhhh ... unnngghhhh." Her hand slowly loosened, allowing me to pull my head back. She was lying agains t the door, eyes closed, a sated expression on her. Cautiously, I raised my head a little higher and looked around over the seat and the dash and then behind me over the door. People were bustling around, to and from their cars, pushing car ts, carrying packages ... all busy with what they were doing. Nobody was paying attention to us, even the person walking behind our car. I was glad now that I h adn't been able to park closer, though I'd been a little upset that we'd had to walk so far. I looked down at Mom's still spread legs, thighs wide apart, skirt pushed to her hips, dark blue panties soaking wet. I pushed Mom's legs together and toward th e front. She bent her knees and slumped in the seat to make it easier for me to turn her, or maybe because she wanted to slink down in the seat to hide since sh e kept her face tucked down, chin on her chest. At first, she didn't resist when I continued turning her, tugging her shoulders to twist her back toward me, but she did when I began pulling her down to the se at. "What are you doing?" her eyes opened as I pushed her shoulders to force her hip s closer to the door. "Shhhhh," I whispered, pushing her down, her head now lower than the back of the seat, hiding her presence to anyone that wasn't standing right beside us. Thoug h she looked around, she didn't try to sit up and she lifted her hips and bent h er legs so she could fit on the seat lying on her back. "Michael, what are you ..." "Shhhhh, Mom. Stay still." Mom was craning her neck to look up and back at me as I lifted my right knee ont o the seat, leaning over her. Comprehension formed on her face as she saw my ope n shorts. She shook her head.

"No Michael. No." I pulled my jockeys down, letting my cock spring out, long and hard. "People will see," Mom protested, her eyes almost crossed as they focused on the cock she had made so hard. "No they won't," I cried, the desperation clear in my voice as I hunched over he r stomach, hiding below the seat and trying to angle my cock onto her mouth, my hand slipping under her neck and lifting slightly to tip her face my way. "Pleas e," I gasped. "I need you." Mom's head was still shaking but her hand suddenly appeared between us and grasp ed my cock. I almost let go at the touch of her soft fingers. I watched, looking along her denim shirt as her hand slowly pulled my stiff member down, toward he r face, onto her lips. She paused there for a second, twisting her neck to brush her lips across the bottom of my tip, then arched her neck and pushed her head up, enveloping my cock in her soft warm mouth. "Ahhhhhhh," I cried, stunned by the exquisite feeling of her wet mouth pushing u p my shaft, unable to restrain my hips from an answering shove. I pulled out and shoved in again, slowly. "Ahhhhhhh, Mom ... fuck ... fuck," I cried, humping gently in and out of her mou th as she held her head twisted back at a constant angle to make it easier for m e. I wish I could say I lasted a manly long time but that would be a lie. I didn't. Not much longer than it took to describe what happened, I unloaded a steady str eam of cum into Mom's mouth, which closed tightly around my shaft, her body conv ulsing as she swallowed several times in quick succession as my fluid forced its way past her tonsils. I collapsed on top of her, my face falling between her le gs, mouth pressed against her wet panties, nose aligned with her vertical crevic e as my cock softened and eventually slipped from her face. Slowly, groggily, we struggled apart and sat up, each of us arranging our clothing properly, not loo king at each other. After a few minutes, Mom looked at me and said, "We'd better get home. Dad will be waiting for his pills." "Yeah," I replied, starting the car and backing out of our spot. As I drove out of the parking lot, I asked Mom, "What are the pills for anyway?" thinking I sho uld talk about anything but what just happened. "They help him calm down. The doctor told him months ago not to get too excited. He doesn't want you to know, that's why he wanted me to get the prescription." "They're like a sedative?" I asked. "Yes. He takes one a day during the week at work and an extra one at night. They help him sleep." "They make him sleepy?" "Yes." "He doesn't take them at home on the weekends, except at night?" "No. He only takes them in the day at work because of the stress."

"So he just wants these for tonight?" "That's right." "Can you put one in his lunch when we get home?" There was a long pause. We were driving down the street now. I looked over at Mom. She was sitting sligh tly slumped, hands held together in her lap keeping her short jean skirt pushed between her thighs to cover her wet panties. "Will you give Dad a pill?" I repeated. I was about to say it again, thinking she hadn't heard me, when she answered in a low voice. "Yes." Mom lifted her head then but she turned to look out the window. We drove home in silence. I tried to follow Mom up the walk but she was too quick and was already near the top of the stairs by the time I got through the door. Dad had just come into th e kitchen from the backyard and glanced at Mom as she disappeared down the hallw ay, pulling a gardening glove off his hand. He shook his head and looked at me. "I take it you weren't able to stave off the looky-loos." "Just one old guy, Dad, but he was pretty persistent. Didn't say anything, but h e kept staring." "Yup," Dad said. "That would do it. That's part of the price when you have legs like that. She likes the admirers when she's in the mood for it but the oglers p ut her off." "I don't think she's upset, Dad. The old guy didn't seem to bother her much. She just felt sorry for him." "Oh?," Dad looked up the stairs again. "Then ...," "I think she spilled something on her skirt," I said, explaining her headlong ru sh upstairs. "Oh. Well, let's you and I get lunch started." We were busy in the kitchen mucking up lunch when Mom came in telling us to stop making a mess of everything and to go outside, that she'd bring lunch out into the yard when it was ready. I wanted to stay but she shooed me out the door with Dad but not before Dad said something about her spilling on herself, pointing a t her skirt, adding that he wasn't the only one that made a mess of things. Mom just looked at him oddly as he made his escape while I paused to admire her new outfit, a light cotton, short-sleeved blouse tied under her breasts and a white, pleated tennis skirt not much longer than the jean skirt she'd worn this mornin g. Talking to Dad, I kept wondering if Mom would remember about Dad's pill and whet her or not she would actually give it to him. Her headlong rush up the stairs ma de me think she was having second thoughts. After all, that was a pretty wild an

d dangerous thing we'd done at the mall. Lunch arrived on a big tray complete with tall glasses of fresh lemonade, a spec ialty of Mom's. I was thirsty and grabbed one as soon as Mom set the tray down d espite Mom trying to bat my hand away. I took a big gulp and screwed my face up; it wasn't as sweet as usual. Mom noticed and took the glass from me, handing it to Dad. "You got Dad's," she said, then explained, "I always put a little sugar in yours ." Lunch was alternating chit-chat and munching, almost all munching for me. The on ly interesting part was when Dad asked me if I was going to braid Mom's hair thi s afternoon. I nodded in affirmation but Mom said that was for tonight. That was a little disappointing. After a while, the chit-chat died down and we all sat e njoying the sun and sitting back in our chairs, Dad and I in the two, classic wo oden seats joined by a mutually shared table while Mom sat across from us in the cushioned lounge. Part of the reason I had been quiet was the attraction of Mom's legs. I had grow n ... perhaps a poor choice of words ... a new appreciation of Mom's legs after trailing around behind her in that jean skirt and this looser, pleated job had v ery real merits of its own. As Mom talked to Dad and nibbled on her sandwich, sh e pulled one leg up higher on the lounge, allowing me to see the back of that th igh. This was the view the old guy must have enjoyed. Despite the fact that I'd had my face buried right in there only an hour ago, the sight was still exciting . "Hmmm, I'm not as hungry as I thought I'd be," Dad commented, putting the last p art of his sandwich down on his plate beside me. "Sorry dear," he apologized. "Just drink your lemonade then. You don't want to get dehydrated in this sun." Dad dutifully picked up his glass and took a huge drink, leaving less than an in ch in the bottom, set it down and closed his eyes. "It's so beautiful out," he s ighed. "Summer's been a long time coming this year." Mom didn't answer. I expected her to stretch out and close her eyes too but she continued to watch Dad, a small smile on her face. I opened my mouth to speak, just to fill the void, but Mom waved me off, so I ju st sat back and waited. After a minute, I succumbed to the effect of the sun and closed my eyes too. I opened my eyes with a start and tried to lift my head but it was too heavy. I must have dozed off because I had that feeling of waking from a deep sleep thoug h my slitted eyes told me it couldn't have been more than a few minutes because Mom was still sitting in the lounge across from me. The only thing that was diff erent was that she had kicked off her sandals and was propping both bent legs up with bare feet. It was very hot and still, except for the sound of birds singin g and flitting through the trees. Mom was looking at me now instead of Dad. I kept still, watching through slitted eyes to see if she knew I was awake but there was no indication. Her knees sway ed from side to side, legs tightly together. Still, I could briefly see the back s of both thighs as her calves passed back and forth in front of them. It was se veral passes before my brain twigged to something my eyes must have noticed righ t away ... I couldn't see any panties. I should have been able to see them along the bottom of each leg, joining to form a strip to rise up and disappear betwee n her thighs, but there was nothing. As I tried to strain my eyes to see better

without opening them, Mom flattened her legs out and stretched them, tightly tog ether, along the lounge. Bummer. I kept watching her, not moving a muscle because she was still looking my way. H er hands raised languidly above her chest, still resting on her elbows beside he r, and began toying with the knot that tied her blouse together. Mom tugged at t he ends and slowly, slowly, the knot loosened. I wanted to turn my head to see w hat Dad was doing. I knew he was there because I could see his feet at the botto m of my field of vision. He must have dozed off like I had but he had to be stil l out if Mom was doing this with me there. Mom must have put his pill in the lemonade. That would explain why I had conked out after taking a big drink of the glass Mom had explained wasn't mine. Would D ad wake up too? Should I warn Mom that I was awake? Mom finished undoing the kno t and pulled her shirt apart. I decided to wait for a few more minutes. Mom's fingertips trailed up her chest along the divide she had just opened in he r blouse, widening the gap between the sides, reversing direction to travel back down, opening the blouse even further. She watched me as she repeated this twic e more until her tits were bare, small swells of flesh rising from her chest cap ped by long and thick nipples. Mom smiled, then pulled her feet up and bent her knees, keeping her retracting legs out to the sides so my view of her breasts wa sn't obscured. After pulling her feet up, pressed together sole to sole all the way to the bottom of her thighs, she slowly pushed them back, straightening her legs but this time letting her feet move apart, edging them part way down the si des of the lounge cushion. Mom's legs were open now and I could clearly see that she wasn't wearing any pan ties at all, her lightly haired muff plain to see, legs spread wide enough to op en a pink slit between her nether lips. Her smile widened and I knew then she wa s aware that I was watching. Just then, Dad snorted! blouse together as she ossing them to hide the de of our joined chair. rprised to see his eyes

Mom's legs snapped shut and her hands quickly pushed her sprung to a sitting position, pulling her legs up and cr position of her skirt. I could feel Dad moving on his si I opened my eyes and sat up too, looking over at Dad, su still closed. He had only changed his position.

I looked at Mom. Our eyes met and we laughed, quietly, nervously. Mom looked lik e a cutout from an erotic fashion magazine. She was sitting hunched forward with her arms around her knees, lower legs held tightly together with one foot cross ed over the other, and long reddish hair cascading over both arms and legs. Alth ough you couldn't see it, you had the impression her shirt was open. One thing was open, though I don't think Mom knew it, especially given she was t rying to cover up because she thought Dad was waking up. Her pussy. A thatch of hair was peeking out below her crossed ankles. Mom probably thought I was admiri ng her legs but it was her bare pussy that captured my attention. I remembered t he feel of it on my tongue that afternoon, at least, the feel of it under her pa nties. And the smell. I could detect that faint aroma in the summer air. I looked back at Dad and then at the glass of lemonade beside him, reached over to grasp it and tipped it my way, pointedly looking at the bottom of the nearly empty glass. I looked back at Mom and she smiled, as if we were sharing a secret . I stood and stepped toward Mom until I was standing in front of the lounge she was sitting on. She turned up to look at me and I noticed her eyes fix briefly on the large bulge she had created under my shorts. I reached down to brush the hair away from her face. I leaned over a bit so I could put my hands on her knees, applying gentle pressu

re to urge them apart. Slowly, Mom's arms loosened and fell away, allowing her k nees to part, and then widen. I spread them further and further until her shirt fell open, exposing her tits, but my eyes traveled down, past her open shirt to the bare pussy they had been loving before Dad's precipitous snort. Mom's eyes, still looking at me, knew what mine were looking at. I shuffled closer, almost touching her with my bulging shorts. Eyes staying on m ine, Mom's fingers found the front of my thighs and slid up, lightly brushing ov er my lump, and released my cock from its prison, laughing as it sprang free and capturing it in her delicate little hand. She tipped her head back further and laid my bare cock on her upturned face, across her lips and along her nose, usin g her soft fingers to press it against her flaring nostrils, rubbing it back and forth. I grabbed a handful of hair on either side of Mom's face and walked slowly forwa rd, legs wide and waddling up the side of the lounge, leaning Mom back and follo wing her down, keeping my cock on her face. Her eyes laughed at me all the way u ntil her back was pressed against the slightly raised lounge cushion. That's whe n I drew back until my cock head rested on her lips and she opened her mouth, in viting me inside. I slid home. Oh god, that wonderful mouth of hers. Such an incredible feeling. Mom didn't clo se her eyes. I could see she loved what she was doing to me, so apparent in the almost pained ecstasy etched on my face. I began to move. Hardly at all, at firs t, but then more and more, eventually pushing too much inside so that she gagged and I had to pause while she recovered, waving that she was ok and pulling my c ock back in when she was ready. My thighs burned with the strain of squatting over her like that, dipping my coc k in for a dozen thrusts and then waiting while she coughed. Her mouth became we tter and wetter and the gag pauses less frequent, farther apart, until I was ste adily fucking her mouth. I remember thinking that this was what heaven must be l ike, and that made me think about how natural this was. In medieval times, in sm all rural villages or out on the farms, this must have been common. After a day in the fields, the older son must have been allowed to have a turn with what may have been the only pussy around. This wasn't wrong, I thought as my cock squelc hed in and out of Mom's saliva-filled mouth. And it was my right. That spiritual revelation triggered a religious experience. I began spewing my s eed into Mom's mouth which, already half filled with saliva and cock, quickly ov erflowed, spilling out over her lips and running down her cheeks and chin. I pul led out, afraid of drowning her, and let the last couple of strings burst over h er face, though thankfully not in her precious hair. Mom struggled to swallow but she did manage it. She spoke to me then, but not an grily like I had expected. I leaned down to hear her better. "Lick it off," she said. Though confused at first, I quickly realized what she w anted and proceeded to lick my own cum off Mom's face, depositing it into her op en mouth. I could scrape it up with my tongue but I couldn't bring myself to swa llow it. I licked her face until it was clean, pushing my tongue in her mouth fo r longer and longer kisses but she pushed me away. Or, should I say, down. Mom's hands pressed on my shoulders, guiding me. If that wasn't signal enough, she provided further direction. "My turn," she whispered hoarsely. I obliged. I pushed her skirt up high and buried my face between her legs, stret ching my feet out behind me and onto the patio. I didn't waste time, I dug my to

ngue into her cunt, vigorously wiggling it around, then pulled out and lapped he r all around her lips and up and down her slit, then dug in for some more. I kep t doing that for a long time, until her legs were writhing and her hands clutche d my head in a vice grip. Then I pulled my face up and started gently teasing he r clit, licking gently, nibbling and tugging with my lips, licking again, pushin g my fingers inside her pussy, finding the pink hole and slowly finger grinding her while I teased the living fuck out of her clit. I was pleased that she didn't last any longer than I did and I learned how eroti c it was for her to let me come on her face and then feel me lick myself off of her, learned by her drenching my face and then pulling me up to lick herself fro m me with her teasing little tongue. We were relieved to find Dad still out when we finally remembered he was behind us. Mom told me to go upstairs and she would wake him. I held her for one last k iss, standing behind Dad's chair, my hand reaching down to cup her bare ass unde r her skirt, fingers pushing between her cheeks and reaching down for her pussy but only managing to rub over her asshole. "I need to fuck you," I rasped desperately in her ear. "No," she gasped, pushing me away hard. "That's for night time." Reluctantly, I went. I was pleased with the new division of day and night time a ctivities. My young cock was already stirring as my thoughts turned toward the e vening. Another night away from my friends. I was turning into a real momma's bo y. After that, I had to get out of the house. It was just too hard to hang around w atching Mom without touching her. So I left. I called a couple of buddies but th ey were already doing stuff and I didn't actually feel like company anyway. I ne eded to be alone and ended up taking a drive in the country, following secondary and even gravel roads through rolling hill country. It was a good choice. My thoughts of Mom intermingled well with the music on the 'Classics' station that played vintage rock'n'roll from her era. I passed throu gh miles of beautiful country without really paying attention to it, my mind pla ying a fiction movie starring me and Mom, not much older than me, as I imagined she would look. We did things I would do with a girl my age, went to movies, bur ger and pizza places, and parties, sometimes hanging out with my friends, more o ften just being by ourselves. It was a life with Mom more integrated in my world , before she met Dad. Dad. How could I get Mom away from him? He hardly traveled for business anymore. I wanted to get him away for a night or two so I could be alone with Mom, so I could wake her in the morning with tender caresses. Or maybe I could find an exc use for Mom to visit some relative or friend that lived within driving distance but far enough that we could do a road trip with an overnight stop at a motel. B ut neither was an option until school was done and that was weeks away. I couldn 't wait that long. I had to get Mom alone some other way. My thoughts turned toward tonight. Tonight I would braid Mom's hair. I could ima gine her in the bathroom, braiding together strands of hair while I watched her in the mirror, proudly showing me her tits, arching her back to tighten her tumm y and lift her nipples high, pushing her bare ass against my cock, embedding it the crack of her ass. WHOAAA! Jesus! I scrambled to get the car straight, hands flailing on the wheel. This way, back ... over correcting ... back again, avoiding the ditch, up onto the road and back to my own side.

"JESUS!" I yelled, looking in the mirror at the car rapidly disappearing down th e road, a hand held straight up outside the driver's window, obviously giving me the finger. Relief flooded over me and I laughed, nervously and loud. "Jesus ... fuck," I said. "Keep your mind on the road, Mike," I yelled at myself . I looked down at my lap, at the huge bulge still residing there, concrete eviden ce of where my mind had been seconds ago. "You almost killed me, you prick!" I laughed. I slowed down and looked around at the scenery but my thoughts soon returned to Mom though I resisted playing another bathroom scene in my mind. I was partly su ccessful. I was late for dinner, quite late. It was almost dark when I got home and Dad ad monished me as soon as I came in the door. "Where have you been?" Then, not waiting for an answer, "You said you'd do your mother's hair for her today." "Sorry Dad," I said. "I went for a drive and lost track of time. Is Mom mad?" "No. She went to warm up your dinner when she heard you pull in. She's never mad at you, you know that." I went into the kitchen. Mom was standing in front of the microwave waiting for it to finish, facing me with her right hand and hip resting against the counter. Her amused eyes glanced toward the living room and Dad when she saw me, then re turned to me, arched high. Her robe was cinched tightly around her waist and, se eing she was already changed for bed, I realized how late I really was. My eyes traced appreciatively down her body, past the robe and along her legs to the flu ffy slippers on her feet, and back. I wasn't shy. I didn't mind if she saw my th oughts reflected in my face and my actions. "Sorry, Mom." I quietly offered. "There's no reason to be sorry," Mom replied. "Did you have a nice drive?" "Yeah." "Get thing's all sorted out?" "Yeah." "It's amazing how a drive or a long walk can do that." "Yeah." Just then, the microwave buzzed. Mom waited until the fifth buzz before opening the door. She never opened the door until the buzzing was done and always gave m e heck when I did, saying there was lingering radiation that wasn't good for me. She handed me the plate with a warning that it was hot and told me to sit down. She poured a large glass of milk and brought it to me, sitting down at the tabl e in the chair across the corner from mine. She smiled while I ate but let me ea t without interruption, not talking until I was almost finished. Her presence ma de my chest feel tight and my skin hypersensitive.

"So," she said huskily, "are you going to braid my hair for me?" I nodded, not trusting my voice, afraid it would break into an unmanly squeak. "Good," Mom smiled, her foot rubbing my shin briefly before she stood. "Come up after you put your dishes away." She paused just before the door and turned half back to face me, "Maybe you shou ld put your pajamas on before you come. It might take a while." I was vaguely aware of Mom telling Dad she was going upstairs so I could braid h er hair and that he should lock the doors and turn the lights out when he came u p. I was already imagining the feel of her hair, and her soft behind. I had to run really hot water on my hand to shock my mind off of Mom but it was the cold water that finally dampened my boner enough that I could leave the kitc hen and walk past Dad on the way upstairs. I rushed to my room and put my pajama s on in record time. It was all I could do not to run to Mom's room. She was waiting for me, seated on the bench in front of her makeup dresser, wher e she had been the first time she'd let me touch her. As then, I approached her back slowly. Her hair was spread evenly across her back, outside her robe. As I neared, I could see that her robe was open down the front, about four inches apa rt, not enough to bare her breasts but my cock still stiffened to half mast. Her smile was alluring and knowing, aware of the effect she wrought upon my male sensitivities. Hovering behind her, my eyes couldn't stay on hers and were pull ed down her reflection, through the gap in her robe, between her hidden breasts and over her slightly pouting tummy with its sexy, beckoning navel, and on to he r flesh colored panties. "Do you like pussy willows?" she said, mouth turned up in one corner in obvious amusement. There was a faint design etched in the front of Mom's panties but that wasn't wh at I was looking at, and she knew it. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," I answered, playing it up. "A connoisseur, are you?" "Yes. Yes I am, of sorts." Mom's smile broadened in delight and I could feel an intense enjoyment spreading through my own body from this playfulness. "Perhaps you'd like a closer look?" Mom's knees parted a little, exposing more of her panties. "I would certainly appreciative that. I think you have a rarity there, a real co llector's item." "Really?" Mom cried, opening her legs a little more, enough for me to see the se xy way her thighs widened as they flattened on the seat. "What makes you think t hat?" "There's a hint, a lascivious quality. I can't quite explain it, but your item s eems to possess a life force that cannot be denied."

I thought that sounded really lame but Mom seemed to like what I'd said. Her leg s opened even more and her panties puffed forward delineating their underlying s culpture so finely that a permanent memory was burnt into my retinas, forever as sociating that particular image in my mind with the word 'pussy'. "That may be the finest example of a pussy ... willow that I've ever seen. But, of course, I'll have to take a closer look to be sure." "I don't know," Mom said, her voice uncertain. "My husband's just downstairs." "But surely he wouldn't mind," I protested. "It is in the name of art, after all ." Now that got a huge smile from Mom. I was sure I had hit pay dirt and was about to lean over her so I could reach down and take my prize in hand but a creak fro m the hall made me stiffen -- not where you think -- my whole going rigid in fea r. Mom's knees snapped shut and her robe was quickly closed and securely tied. I ha d the presence of mind to take a handful of her hair and start separating it int o strands, just before Dad walked through the bedroom door. "Still at it?" Dad asked, casting a quick glance our way on his way to the bathr oom. "We just got started," Mom said. "Will it bother you, us being here?" Yes, I thought. Let's go downstairs. "Nope," Dad doused that idea as he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the do or almost shut. The tinkle of pee followed seconds later. I pressed myself into Mom's hair, between her shoulder blades, nudging my cock s uggestively into her back. "We could do this downstairs, Mom, so Dad can go to sleep," I suggested. "He'll fall asleep anyway," she answered nonchalantly stroking her hair. I began a braid, for real, to the sound of Dad brushing his teeth. Mom was silen t while I worked, her eyes averted. She didn't look at me until the braid was al most done but Dad entered the room just then and she looked his way. Ignoring my presence, Dad proceeded to undress and get into his pajamas. I started another braid as he slid under the covers, picked up a book, and began to read. "You're not tired?" Mom asked. "No, not really," Dad replied without looking up. There was no sound except the faint sound of me twisting Mom's hair and Dad flip ping a page. I finished the braid and started on another. "Did you take your pill?" Long pause. "No." "Cliff, you know better." Dad didn't respond.

"Cliff." "I think I can sleep without it." "You'll fidget around and keep me awake," Mom complained. "No I won't. ... If I do, I'll take one." "Promise?" Promise. More time passed in silence, Dad reading, the bench not looking at either of us. I ught I was finished but Mom indicated the ere her hair was shorter. I began doing a

me braiding, and Mom sitting calmly on had completed four long braids and tho sides of her head, toward the front wh couple of short braids on each side.

I stepped close to do these, leaning over Mom's head and shoulders. I couldn't h elp pressing my cock into her back again, feeling her warmth of her skin through the robe now that her hair was separated into braids. Looking along the side of Mom's head, I could see her robe had parted a bit in front but it was closed su fficiently for shadows to hide her charms. I glanced at the mirror and saw that Mom was watching me. She kept her eyes on mine as her left hand, the one farthes t from Dad, appeared in front of her robe and pulled it apart just enough to all ow the light to shine on her bare, left tit. I pressed my cock harder into her back and she pushed back, arching and rubbing against me. I finished the two little braids on that side and switched over to t he other side. Mom's hands switched too and I was soon watching her right tit. W hereas I had been able to watch the other nipple grow, this one was already exte nded. Dad flipped another page and I ground my cock into my mother's back. I don 't how I managed not to groan out loud. When I finished the last braid, Mom stood. We were done. Why hadn't she come dow nstairs? She stepped around the bench seat and walked around the end of the bed, heading for the bathroom. I followed, but turned to go out the bedroom door. "Goodnight," I said to both of them. "Goodnight, son," Dad responded. "Where are you going?" Mom said. "You're not finished yet." "Not finished?" I mumbled. "No," Mom said, holding her hand out to me. "You need to rub a little oil in my braids to make them soft and shiny." She shook her hand, beckoning impatiently. "Come on." Mom led me into the bathroom, leaving the door open so wide that we couldn't see Dad reflected in the mirror, or he us. She picked a squeeze bottle up and hande d it to me. "Here," she said. "Rub this into my braids." I squeezed some of the clear, light oil into the palm of my hand. "Not too much," Mom said. I started running my palm down her braid. Looking nervously at the door, reassur

ed by the sound of a flipping page, I pressed forward and applied my stiffness t o Mom's bottom. "That's it," Mom said aloud. "Rub it in good." I did. I took Mom seriously about rubbing the oil into her hair but I kept shovi ng my cock up and down her soft behind. I lost myself in that and was on the thi rd long braid when I realized I hadn't heard a page flip for a while. Anxiety we lled up from my stomach, spreading through my chest. The snap of a light shutting off defied the laws of physics by arriving in my br ain before the fact of darkness in the bedroom impinged on my mind. "Did you take your pill?" Mom yelled, her calm voice belying the danger of the s ituation. "NO," came the muffled response, sounding like it have been emitted from a face buried in a pillow, or at least under the covers. Mom didn't answer. I continued braiding, and stayed still. Two minutes passed. M y cock couldn't stand it and started nudging mother's cheeks again, but soon ram ped up to full fledged rubbing. Mom was rocking forward from my little shoves, h er hands grasping the edge of the counter to help steady herself. I had a hand o n two of her long braids and tugged them, pulling her head back and face up, but her eyes stayed on mine. I grimaced and ground my cock into her ass, tugging harder on her braids. Mom an swered with a silent laugh, her face flushed, eyes burning and exuding excitemen t. I responded with a series of quick, violent shoves into her behind accompanie d by almost as exuberant tugs on her braids. I stopped, panting for breath, realizing I was getting carried away. I glanced t oward the door and the dark bedroom beyond, desperately trying to get a grip on my mind, to regain some semblance of control, but when I looked back at the mirr or, into Mom's eyes, I lost it. She did something with her ass. It seemed to soften, relax and open, welcoming m e. I was enveloped, ensconced between her cheeks, even through the robe. If it w as possible, my cock hardened even more in response to her invitation. I let go of her hair and grasped the lapels of her robe, parting them to reveal her bare tits. I knew if I grabbed them, I would be lost, but her eyes begged me to do it. I co uldn't resist and almost cried aloud when her nipples pierced my palms and I clo sed my fists tightly over them. I sunk my teeth into the crook of her neck, hunc hed into her ass, and adjusted my hands until her long nipples were poking out b etween the circles between my thumbs and index fingers. I lifted my head and was amazed that Mom hadn't cried out when I saw the teeth m arks I had left in her neck. I looked in the mirror, marveling at the way her ni pples tried to escape from my clutching fists. Mom's hands released their grip o n the counter and grasped my hands, trying to pull them away. I relented and all owed her to pull my hands off, freeing her tits which bounced down onto her ches t. Mom didn't release my hands. Instead, she guided them to the lapels of her robe, high up, near her neck, all the while watching me in the mirror. She let go and returned to grip the counter. I was confused. What did she want? She looked at me, expectantly, in the mirror. Comprehension finally filtered into my thick sku ll. I pulled the robe apart and around her shoulders, baring her entire front, a

nd dropped it to the floor. Mom was standing in front of me, stark naked, with m e behind, pajamas poking firmly into her rear. This was insane. Dad was in bed in the next room and he hadn't taken his pill. I strained to hear his snore but couldn't. Please, please, I thought. Go to sleep . I listened again. Nothing. I looked down at Mom's unblemished back, at her perfect skin, gracefully dipping into the hollow at the base of her spine and curving out to form her wonderfull y feminine buttocks. Only the cotton of my pajamas marred the view. I stepped ba ck to admire her beautiful, bare ass and long, shapely legs. Staring dumbly, I pushed my pajamas over my hard cock and down my legs, stepping out of them as if I was sleepwalking, and kicked them aside. I reached forward to cup those lovely buttocks in my hands, feeling their heft, squeezing slightly to extract as much joy as I could from this forbidden skin. My hands moved easi ly over her cheeks, facilitated by the light oil I had been rubbing in her braid s. I loved the curve of her flesh and the rubbery resistance it offered to my ro ving palms but I reveled even more in the surrender implied by the ease with whi ch her cheeks parted for my exploring fingers. Now oblivious of events in the other room, I stepped forward and pushed my cock between my mother's cheeks. She smiled in the mirror as I began poking around, t rying to find her hole, becoming more frantic with each passing second. Mom's lips pouted in the mirror. "Shhhhhh." I calmed down. Her lips moved but I couldn't hear. I leaned close, pressing my h ead to the side of her's. "Lick me." I regained her eyes in the mirror. She nodded, smiling. I slid my head down her back, all the way to her ass without breaking contact un til I was on my knees. I pressed on her knees and she obligingly moved her feet apart. Her ass pushed out toward me, eager to receive my blessing. I leaned forw ard and pressed my face into her ass, tongue extending, searching for the source of the musky smell that now filled my nostrils. I found it. I began lapping and licking between Mom's cheeks, poking inside her slit, wiggli ng my tongue around and around, then dragging it out and up her perineum, shovin g my flattened tongue between her cheeks and over her musty bunghole. You should have seen how she wriggled her ass on my face. She loved it! I wrapped my arms around her thighs and lifted her until her ass was level with my face. Mom was leaning almost level over the counter now, head lying on crosse d arms, tits dangling over the edge and hanging down, swaying. I plunged back in . I licked and lapped and shoved my tongue inside her, flailing around in her puss y, pulling out for brief trips up to her asshole and a quick lick before returni ng to her center. My fingers stretch up her inner thighs until their tips reache d her pussy lips, and pulled them apart so I could get my tongue deeper inside h er, shaking face wiggling my snake until her juices flowed over my tongue and pr ying fingers. Her cunt began to quiver uncontrollably, having a seizure on my to ngue, her cheeks jiggling all over my face.

As her orgasm subsided, I withdrew my tongue and dragged it along the trail from her pussy to her ass one last time, for a final goodbye lick. But I changed my mind at the last second, the instant the tip of my tongue found her vibrating pu cker, and I forced my tongue through her sphincter. Well, she just exploded. Her ass quivered violently and her thighs shook in my a rms, legs tensing as her toes stretched out, trying to reach the floor. I could feel her pussy oozing fluid again as she trembled to another intense orgasm. She cried out. I froze. My arms loosened, allowing Mom's feet to fall to the floor and while sh e finished her orgasm, toes holding her quivering legs as she leaned over the ba throom counter. I turned my face to the door, waiting for my father to burst in. And waited, but he didn't come. I struggled to my feet and waited some more but he still didn't come. Then my ears detected a familiar sound. His snore. I strai ned for confirmation. Was I kidding myself? No. He was snoring, regularly but more quietly than usual. Mom was still regaining her breath, panting on the counter. I turned and pulled the thick bath mat from where it was draped over the edge of the tub and spread it on the floor before grasping Mom's waist and gently pulling her away from the counter. She complied without resistance and I guided her to the ground until s he was lying on her side, her legs curled up. I pushed on the back of her right thigh, opening her legs and leaning her slightly forward onto her tummy. I wrapp ed my hand around her hip and reached down to cup her wet pussy, pulling her up and back, inserting my knee between hers and guiding my cock into her open, wet cunt. I slid in, partly shoving and partly pulling her back until she was impaled on m y pole. I didn't waste any time. Keeping my hand wrapped over her hip and pussy, I grasped a long braid with the other so she wouldn't slide away from me, and s tarted fucking her. Fucking my mom on her bathroom floor with my father sleeping in his bed not a dozen feet away. Fuck, it was gloriously hot. I rammed into her, my hips slapping against her behind. I wasn't worried about n oise now. I was confident my father wouldn't wake up, even without the pill. I w anted to fuck my mom, hard. And I did. I made her body shake all over the mat, b ack and forth with every shove, every thrust. Despite my hard thrusts, I could feel her wonderful pussy all the way in, gloryi ng in long strokes to sense the minute variations in texture all along her silky wet channel. And regardless of my lunging fucks, and the way I gripped her so s he couldn't avoid my frenetic onslaught, Mom fucked me back, gripping and releas ing, clutching my ramming shaft with her feminine muscle, like a snake working m e inside a one-way tunnel only to quickly reverse, expelling my intruder, then s uck him in again. Somehow she managed to bend her waist and cock her hip, swiveling her ass up tow ard me, demanding that I shove into her even harder, her head twisting around to look at me, her wild eyes confirming her need for more. Her rampant desire triggered my release. I had barely started banging her harder when my sperm spewed inside her, flooding her cunt. I fell on top of her. "Mine, ... you're mine," I gasped, hips lurching, cock squirting my seed. I continued to lie on Mom until the last gob of jiz was squeezed into her pussy.

By that time, she was flat on her tummy, legs spread, my cock still shoved in d eep. When my last squirting lunge was barely a twitch, Mom pushed back at me, tw isting onto her side, and pulled away. She stood, faced the sink and ran the water. I lay on my back and watched as Mom soaked a facecloth and cleaned her pussy, then stepped over to grab a towel to dry herself. She stooped down and kissed me, fingers trailing over my face, then stood and walked into the bedroom. I heard her slip under the covers and the ro om was silent except for Dad's gentle snore. I got up, pulled my pajamas on, tur ned out the bathroom light, and picked my way through the darkness to my room. The next day was Mother's Day. I slept in. Mom and Dad were already downstairs and were just finishing breakfas t when I stumbled into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Mom was a p icture of wholesome health but the girlish braids were unable to hide her underl ying sexual maturity. She wore a khaki hiking outfit with a loose-fitting shirt made of that quick-dry material and a matching pair of shorts. The the shorts fi t snugly around her hips and bottom and though the legs were a little loose they were quite short, resting high atop legs that were bare down to a pair of hikin g boots with socks peeking just an inch above. "It's about time you got up lazybones," Mom greeted me cheerily. "I've been wait ing for you for an hour to take me for a picnic." "Picnic?" "Yes. It's Mother's day and I want you to take me up to Old Baldy, to our secret family viewpoint." Mom was referring to the outcropping below the viewpoint on our local mountain. It was about an hour's hike to the viewpoint and there was a moss-covered rock b elow it that gave almost as good a view but was much better for a picnic because hardly anyone bothered to scramble down the rocky trail to it. The thought of s pending hours alone with Mom on a private, mossy rock appealed to every bone in my body, and one in particular. "Hurry up, now," Mom urged. "Get something to eat while I finish making our lunc h." Obediently, I rushed to pour myself some cereal. "Where's Dad?" I asked. "Having his coffee outside. Quickly now." I finished my breakfast in record time and Mom rushed me upstairs to get dressed . I did that in a hurry too and ran down the stairs to find Mom waiting by the d oor, a couple of small backpacks stuffed and ready to go. I could hardly wait to get her up that mountain. "Don't forget your Dad," Mom said, pointing to the backyard. "Right." I rushed through the kitchen to say goodbye to Dad, leaning through the backdoor with one hand pressed against the inside wall, "Dad." Dad's head spun around and he got up from his chair, coffee cup in hand. I was a bout to say goodbye when his attire stopped me. "Ready?" Dad asked. He was wearing the same hiking outfit Mom had on.

I nodded, speechless. "About time," Dad said, brushing past me through the door. "Emily, you ready?" h e called out. "Waiting for you," Mom shouted back. Fuck! So off we went. Dad drove and an hour later we arrived at the trailhead. He and I carried the packs. The only good part was that he led the way and I followed M om, eyes on her sexy behind all the way. We passed a few people on the way, goin g up and down, and two couples at the lookout. We hung around looking at the vie w until the others left, which took about fifteen minutes. After Dad was sure th ey were gone and nobody else was coming, we carefully picked our way down around the bluff. Our preferred site was empty. We had it all to ourselves. Mom pulled a large blanket from one of the packs and spread it over the moss. Ou r lunch was emptied from the other pack and we sat down to enjoy the view while we ate. It was a beautiful sunny day. Dad finished eating first and leaned back on his elbow to relax. Mom and I were still sitting, she with her legs crossed, me with my elbows resting on my knees. After a few minutes, Dad arranged one of the packs under his head and lay on his back. Mom and I continued to take in the view, finishing our lunch in silence. Mom finished her sandwich and tipped her water bottle up to take a long drink. I took the opportunity to watch the way her shirt stretched over her small breast s. I was pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra. Mom tipped the bottle up too high and water spilled outside her mouth, running down her neck. She jerked the bott le down and pulled it away from her mouth, lifting one arm to wipe her mouth wit h the back of her hand. I continued admiring her front and she smiled at me. I w asn't worried about Dad. His head was out of sight behind Mom's back but I was p retty sure his eyes were closed. Disappointment welled up inside me again as I t hought about how wonderful this would have been with just the two of us. Mom put her bottle down and started brushing crumbs from her legs. Her action wa s quite mechanical but that changed when she looked up to see me watching her cl osely. Then, she stretched one leg out, leaving the other with its foot curled u nderneath the thigh of the outstretched leg. Now, more slowly, she continued to brush away crumbs, though I couldn't see any. Brush ... brush ... brush. Her mov ements became more languid, more sensual, her fingertips removing unseen crumbs from the very tops of her thighs, seemingly to be found all on the inside. Mom b atted her eyelids. "Do you have any water left?" I replied that I did, looking down at the water bottle she had set down on the b lanket, still half full. Nevertheless, I retrieved my bottle and held it out to her, but she ignored it, continuing to brush away phantom crumbs. I unscrewed th e lid and offered the bottle again but Mom still ignored it. Changing my positio n to lean close to her, I held my bottle to Mom's lips. She drank. A small sip. I held the bottle an inch away for a few seconds, then o ffered it to her again. Mom took another sip but this time she spilled some from her mouth, letting it run down her chin and onto her thighs below. I was surpri sed because I had barely tipped the bottle and she could have easily handled wha t spilled into her mouth. Mom looked at the water on her thighs, then at me. Carefully, I secured the cap

on my water bottle and set it down in the moss behind me. Turning back to Mom, I put out one hand to lean on and stretched the other over her lap, looked into h er eyes, and dropped it onto her wet thighs. The way Mom's eyes smoldered, she c ould have looked down and dried her legs with a single glance. Despite the water , her thighs were hot from the sun. I slid my hand over Mom's thighs, spreading the warm water around. It was soon g one. I held Mom's gaze the whole time my hand rubbed her inner thighs. Her only reaction was to open her legs to allow me all the room I needed to do my job. My fingers slowly inched higher as they rubbed and I was soon stretching my finger tips under the leg of Mom's shorts. Still, she held my eyes. I curled my fingers back and moved my hand closer, then stretched my fingers out , but not under the leg of her shorts. Instead, I brushed my knuckles against th e outside, in the puffy center where her pouting pussy pushed up from the inside . Mom's mouth opened in surprise and a small gasp escaped past her lips. I tease d her for several minutes, finding her groove and brushing my knuckles up and do wn inside it, then turning my hand around and rubbing my finger up and down and then sideways back and forth. I smiled. How glorious to feel the sun on my back and my mother's pussy in my ha nd. I forgave her for allowing my father to join us on our day. What a special m other, to sit with her husband lying behind her with legs spread wide open, offe ring her pussy to her son. I nodded my head, flashing my eyes over her shoulder. She looked back, then returned her eyes to mine, nodding. I raised my hand, watching disappointment spread over Mom's face as her pussy wa s left alone. But the disappointment was replaced with anticipation when my fing ers freed a couple of buttons from her shirt and slipped inside to slither over her waiting tit, briefly fondling her already extended nipple, twisting around t o slip underneath, lifting the weight of her breast as my thumb scraped down to flick her hard nipple, the silent cry on her lips an added reward. We were both startled by the sudden appearance of my father's hand on Mom's shou lder pulling her back, down toward him. Awkwardly, Mom complied and was soon lyi ng on her back next to Dad, his arm curled under her neck so his hand could hold hers, her neck fitting into the crook of his elbow. I could see Dad's face now, eyes still closed, chest heaving a sigh of satisfaction. I watched my parents for several minutes. Mother looked worried, lying stiffly i n Dad's arm, her open shirt a testimony that she might have been doing something more than taking in the view. Father, for his part, looked for all intents and purposes to be asleep. He hadn't changed his position or expression after that f irst satisfied exhalation. Mom's legs were now both stretched out. I moved my hand toward her open thighs. The movement caught her attention and her look so clearly warned me away I could almost see her head shake. Mom glared as my hand slipped between her thighs and her legs closed to inhibit its advance but she wasn't quick enough. Though my h and was now trapped my fingers were pressed against her warm spongy pussy. I cou ldn't move my hand but I could press my fingers and I did just that, pulsing the m against her puffy lips, again, and again, and again. Mom glared at me as she lay in Dad's arm, my hand working between her legs. I co uld understand her reaction. If he opened his eyes, we were done. I was my own b ehavior that was amiss. Nevertheless, I continued and in a matter of minutes Mom 's glare softened and was replaced by a glazed look. In that moment her legs rel axed, loosening their hold on my manipulating fingers. Immediately, I began to r ub her pussy in longer strokes, though still soft and gentle. Her legs opened wi der.

I aligned my fingers with her damp crevice and wiggled my fingertips, turning a faint line into shallow trench. I shifted closer so I was lying beside Mom, my h and reaching under the bottom of her partly raised thigh to keep my pliant finge rs pressed into the ever deepening split dividing her mound. Confident in the kn owledge of her acceptance, I slipped my hand up to her waist and quickly unsnapp ed her shorts with a quick twist of my fingers, my retreating fingertips blazing a trail parting the thin material of her quick-dry shorts. Now only her panties separated me from her damp pussy hair. When I reached the bottom of her mound, I pushed my fingers under, inside her legs, between her panties and shorts. So h ot and wet. Dad's arm straightened and flopped to the side, almost hitting me in the head. H e was dozing off. A moment later, I grabbed Mom, a hand on each hip, and tugged her down on the blanket and off Dad's arm. I waited for Dad to settle into his n ew position. Mom didn't resist when I turned her hips toward Dad, pushing her on to her side with her bottom facing me. She was lying awkwardly on one hip but tw isted with her back still flat on the ground. My hand slipped down from her hip, sliding over her bottom, cupping and caressin g her buttocks. Though a forbidden touch, it was platonic compared to the teasin g scrapes across the front of her shorts moments earlier. Mom relaxed as Dad's b reathing deepened and my hand maintained its relatively innocent exploration of her bottom. Perhaps due to my more muted appreciation, or because of her awkward position, Mom turned fully onto her side. I pushed on her right cheek, twisting her slightly forward, then slipped my hand between her legs, snug against the b ottom of her pussy and pressed my thumb between her cheeks. I started gently but regularly pressing and squeezing. Mom swung her hand behind her in a half-hearted attempt to push mine away, to no avail. After several swi ngs, she let her hand fall along the outside of her thigh where it stayed, empha sizing the curve of her hip. After a few minutes of my squelching action, I used my free hand to tug Mom's shorts down until, with a quick motion, I pulled my h and back and slid it back into place, but this time between her shorts and her b are ass and pussy. "Ohhhhhhh," Mom moaned aloud, then turned her face into the blanket. Her only pr otest was to push her ass toward me, as if pleading for more. So be it. I slipped two fingers into her soaking cunt, producing a muffled, "Unn nngghhhhhhh." Splooook, sploook, sploooook. I pushed my fingers in and out, varying my timing and speed, loving the way her ass would reach back when my return was delayed an d the way her channel clamped down, sucking me inside, trying to keep me there, fighting my exit and providing a veritable hero's welcome when my fingers return ed. I don't know why she seemed surprised and struggled when she felt my cock enteri ng her slippery hole. She must have known I couldn't settle for just my finger, that I would fuck her despite the danger and the total absence of any defense sh ould my father awaken. But she did fight my entry and rather than put me off it excited me to no end. The way her butt twisted and shook, first trying to evade me and then to shake me off, was an incredible turn on. What an exciting fuck! I grasped her longer braids, pressing into her back to ho ld her still but I couldn't stop her twisting hips. Though her upper torso was s till, her butt bucked like a little bronco, lifting off the blanket, emphasizing its shape relative to her narrow waist. Yeah, I thought, fuck that. Fuck that! She wound me up much quicker than I wanted. I had envisioned a long, slow, caref

ul fuck that wouldn't disturb Dad but before I knew it I was lunging into her ba ckside and cumming, blasting my spunk inside her, my hard bare cock spewing into her unprotected cunt. I I , g

collapsed on her back and then fell over onto my back. Recapturing my breath, reached down to pull my shorts up, opening my eyes to the bright afternoon sun raising my hand to block its glare. There, high above, on the bluff overlookin ours, two people were looking down. Quickly, I looked over at Mom lying on her chest, hips raised to allow her hands underneath to refasten her shorts. I look ed back, seeing more clearly now, a woman and a younger man, smiling down at us. I sat up and was surprised to see that Dad was no longer lying on his back but h ad turned onto his side, facing away from us. I hadn't been aware of his movemen t. Mom twisted around and sat up too. "We should go," I said. "Yes," she answered, turning to shake Dad's shoulder. He awoke with a start and we were soon packed up and on our way. On the trail back, Dad led the way and seemed to be in a hurry. We had only gone about a third of the way back before we caught up to three people, a family lik e ours. Dad hiked quickly past them but Mom recognized the woman and stopped to say hi. Evidently, they were casual acquaintances who exchanged pleasantries at the local gym. I recognized her as the woman who had been looking down at us from the bluff and the young man as her companion. He was watching me, a smug smirk on his face. I t was disconcerting, to say the least. The woman glanced at me several times whi le she and Mom talked. Noticing, Mom introduced me as her son. The woman greeted me with a smile quite unlike that of her son's. We left after that. Mom turned away first and the woman regarded me with a very frank appraisal. As I hurried t o catch up to Mom, walking briskly in a effort to catch up to Dad who hadn't sto pped, I thought about the woman and how fine her body was despite her plain face . There was something about her that said, 'Take the time, you won't regret it.' I couldn't stop thinking about that woman all the way home -- except for the par ts where Mom's shorts emptied my head of any other thoughts. She and Mom knew ea ch other, and she and her son had seen us. What if she said something to people that knew Mom? Mom had no idea we had been observed. Shouldn't I tell her? I was quiet on the ride home, and so were Mom and Dad. It was still Mother's day or, at least, Mother's night. We had a brief pit stop at home for everyone to get showered and changed and the n we were off to Mom's favorite restaurant for dinner. Mom wore a conservative f rilly white blouse with black slacks, mentioning that her legs were too scratche d up from the hike to wear a dress. The blouse was made of a delicate material a nd Mom wore a camisole underneath for extra protection but I could tell she wasn 't wearing a bra; there was too much intriguing motion for that to be the case. Even though our afternoon bout had only been over for an hour or so, it was hard to sit next to Mom without admiring her or trying to sneak the odd clandestine touch. But I had to because my father was uncharacteristically alert and attenti ve. Dinner was dragged out by dessert and coffee despite the fact that neither I nor Dad wanted anything. When we finally arrived home, I was tired from the strain of the evening but both Mom and Dad were showing no sign of wear or tear. Of cou rse, that was understandable for Dad. I surmised that Mother's day must be a spe cial evening for my parents and resigned myself to the fact that there would be

no further extracurricular activities for me that day. I watched part of a movie with them and said goodnight. I would have to find a way to discuss the woman w e'd met hiking the next day before I went to school so Mom was pre-warned should they encounter each other, or someone they both knew. I had the wildest dreams that night. That woman was on me, fulfilling the implie d promise of rapturous sex. She had started by somehow sneaking under my covers at the foot of my bed, licking my soles, dragging the tip of her stiffened tongu e along the sensitive underside of my arches, sucking my toes into her mouth one at a time before trailing kisses and nibbles up my legs. Her tongue flicked bet ween my thighs, digging deep to get under my balls. I tried to grab her head to pull it up so I could shove my cock down her throat but her incredibly strong ha nds gripped my wrists, holding them by my sides. She teased me mercilessly, slathering my balls with her tongue, then snaking it up my shaft. It was so long, in this dream world, that it curled right around my lovestick and it seemed to take ages for her to reach the top despite steady pr ogress -- I was far longer in my mind that reality would support. She was finall y there, licking my head, drooling copious quantities of saliva before envelopin g my cock with her cavernous mouth, sliding all the way down until her lips smas hed into my curlies, shaking her head in a futile attempt to force an early ejac ulation. I still couldn't free my hands to get hold of her head. I desperately wanted hol d her still, to take control, to shove my cock deep into her face, but she was t oo strong. How? She was no bigger than my mother. And how was it that I could se e her face so clearly, my cock shoved down her throat, when I was lying on my ba ck and she was still under the covers? Ahhh, in a dream, anything can happen. How fantastic her lips felt dragging up my shaft, how exquisite her tongue slipp ing along the underside of my cock, how lovely the squeeze of her mouth around m y tip and the tickling squish of new saliva before she forced herself down until I banged on the door of her throat again. God, again and again. How could a wom an suck a cock so well, a married, family woman? I couldn't help it. I was going to cum. It was too late to warn her, it was already gushing into my tube. PAIN. Fuck! She was squeezing my balls. Shit. Owwww. Why did she do that? Her mouth was off me, she was clambering up under the covers, her knees shifting in jerks along my sides. "Not yet," she cried. "It's still MOTHER's day!" What? I started to protest, to complain about not being able to cum, to explain that I was younger than her husband and could still service her well, but my mou th was suddenly covered by pussy. Excited and pungent cunt mashed against my fac e, filling my nose with the scent of overheated womanhood. Now it was my head th at was held in a vice-like grip. "Lick me," she gasped, her thighs squeezing my chest as she was riding a pony ba reback, knees digging into the mattress to help her hips lever her cunt against my face. "Lick me," she repeated. "Eat me!" I had no choice. I thrust my tongue out, making it as stiff as it would titillate her ravaging pussy sufficiently to end this n. She was moving frantically now, banging my face, forcing me low, her thighs spreading wide to follow me down. I gasped for ir through my nose. "Yes ... yesss ... yessss!" she yelled.

possible, hoping cuntal attack soo deep into the pil breath, sucking a

This was no dream. This was real. And this was no dream woman, it wasn't even an other mother. This was my mother. My Mom ... raping my face. I was suddenly bathed in a gush of pussy fluid. Soaking, rubbery lips slid over my nose and back across my lips, pushing onto my chin, flooding my neck. Mom was gasping and moaning, her hips bucking out of control, slowing slowly, broken by small jerks and shudders, until finally, she was still. I lifted my arms and grabbed her by the waist, lifting her, shifting her down, a ided by her straightening legs, until she was lying on top of me, heaving chest pushing hard, steel-tipped nipples into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, clutching her sweaty body to mine, running my fingers through her wavy hair. The braids were gone. I hugged her until her breath returned to normal, gently stro king her hair, her back, kissing the top of her head, slipping my hand down to s lide over the curve of her ass. Only when her breathing was completely normal did she speak to me. "Put your cock in me," she whispered, lifting her hips so I could rise up and fi nd her. "It's still Mother's day and I want you to fuck me, like this, the way I want it." What could I do? Ever the dutiful son, I found her wet, sloshy hole and shoved m y cock inside, working hard. When I tired of lifting her weight, she took over, sitting up, lifting herself almost off and dropping down with a thud and an extr a push, sometimes wrenching her clutching pussy around on my root, almost painfu lly. "Do you like that?" she husked. "A little rough?" she shoved herself down and ch urned hard. When I tried to pull her down to me, she grabbed my hair and forced my head down, gritting her teeth, fucking hard. "Huh?" she cried. "This will tea ch you for fucking me right beside your father." She rode me roughly until I was exhausted and just lying there. It was an intens e cum. I couldn't move but wouldn't have anyway. I loved the feel of her used bo dy draping over mine, her thighs spread over my hips, her pussy still covering m y cock even though it had slipped out of her minutes ago. She reached behind her self to grasp my hands from where they were clasped around her waist, resting in the small of her back. Pulling them apart, she pushed them down and up the rise of each buttock, guiding my fingers into the crevasse separating her cheeks. Mom pushed the longest finger of my right hand in, pressing until its tip brushe d over her little brown asterisk, the crinkly entrance to her dark hole. Visions of the wildly exciting ride on her ass that afternoon burst into my head. What was she hinting at? Was she really suggesting what I thought? Her hand rubbed my fingers back and forth across her rosebud, hard enough that it dug in a little. "Your Dad asked me to do something special for you on Father's day," she whisper ed. WHAT? My mind swirled like a tornado, making my head dizzy. What? I blacked out. "Your Dad asked me to do something special for you on Father's day." Those words replayed in my mind morning, noon and night. I just couldn't shake t hem loose. It was like my head was one giant echo chamber, a walking sea shell.

To make things worse, Mom put me on a starvation diet. Not food, of course. Mom treats were few and far between. By the time Father's Day was only a week away, Mom had let me fuck her only twice since that fateful night when she'd whispered those deafening words. She did, however, milk my cock with her hand several tim es. The first time was after I asked if she needed help washing her hair. I had been bugging her daily to brushed or braid her hair but when I came out with that Mo ther's frown indicated her clear displeasure. She walked into the kitchen and wh en I followed she let me have it, dishing out a real tongue-lashing, but not the kind I would have liked. "What the hell are you up to?" she demanded angrily. Though whispered, the intensity in her voice was more effective than the blare o f the train blasting by. Of course, I just looked dumb as if I had no idea what she was talking about. "Are you retarded?" she hissed. I looked around toward the living room, sure that bullet would be heard but her voice probably hadn't carried past me. I turned back to Mom's face which wore an expression typically paired with, "Duh!" I shrugged my shoulders, my hands opening and lifting at my sides. "Do you think your father is stupid?" Again, I just shrugged, not knowing what to say. I felt like a deer caught in he adlights and was afraid to speak in case I said the wrong thing. Mom's expression softened when she recognized my dilemma. "Baby," she said, more kindly. "You have to be smarter." I answered with an 'I know but can't help it look.' Mom suddenly seemed to be all soft and feminine. She stepped toward me. "I know," she said. "It's hard to think when that thing is armed, isn't it?" Mom looked down at my boner which hadn't subsided in my jeans despite her tirade. I don't know how I had managed to get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen without my father noticing my odd gait. Mom's hand stretched out, pointing down with her palm up. "It's hard, isn't it," she whispered, the double entendre not lost on me but was obliterated as soon as her hand cupped my scrotum. "It won't be long now," she whispered, her head tipping up to direct her voice straight at my ear, her palm rubbing me as if to emphasize how wonderful 'soon' would be. "Do you need something tonight?" she asked, rubbing harder but not faster, the h eel of her hand grinding against the underside of my cock, forcing it into my be lly. "Can't you wait?" she whispered, her fingers closing on my balls as her hand mov ed faster. I nodded more vigorously each time, first yes, then no. Mom stood on tippy toes and slid her tongue out to flick my neck. Her hand was r

ubbing furiously now, almost painfully, but I didn't care. She stopped talking a nd breathed heavily into my neck, just below my ear, communicating her own excit ement. My arms circled her shoulder to help me stay on my feet. My legs felt wea k and my knees felt like they might buckle. "I'll given you a little present tonight," she whispered. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I nodded. "Would you like that?" Yeah, yeah. I was speechless, my hips grinding against her cruel hand, the heel of her palm rubbing and twisting right on my cockhead. "I'll come fuck you," she said in a throaty whisper. I erupted in pants, clasping her to me, loving the way she ket rubbing me, more softly, urging me to discharge every ounce of my cum. When my hips were still, s he patted my damp crotch, gave me a quick kiss, and said, "There, that should ho ld you until tonight." "Now, behave yourself," Mom added, walking by me to the door. I promised myself I would. It wasn't until I was lying in bed, waiting for Mom, that I realized her anger must mean that Dad really didn't know what was going o n, that he hadn't actually asked her to do the special thing she had hinted at. Didn't it? In a way, I was disappointed. If Dad had known, if he'd actually asked her, then I could have Mom openly without any need to hide. On the other hand, the thrill of fucking her right under his nose when he didn't know was perhaps too much to o give up. I wasn't sure what I wanted but I resolved to ask Mom what the real s ituation was that night. I fell asleep. Can you believe it? It was completely dark when I woke up and I felt like I was still in a dream. Mo m was on top of me, lying very still. I was on my back, head turned to the side, looking at the big red numbers on my clock. It was just after four in the morni ng. No wonder I had fallen asleep. My cock was hard, very hard. How long had she been milking it, her palpitating muscles steadily dragging it deeper into her c unt? "Finally," she whispered. "Were your dreaming, about being in my pussy?" She ground her hips and squeezed her muscles hard. My cock felt like it was bein g exquisitely crushed in a circular vice. I groaned out loud. "Oh, so you like that," she laughed. I started fucking up at her but she used her weight to dampen my thrusts, laughi ng harder. "Not so fast," she instructed. "I want it slow and hard." And that was how it went. As long as I pushed up slow, as far as I could, I was allowed to fuck her, but as soon as I humped faster, she shut me down. The whole time she whispered encouragingly in my ear, that is, when she wasn't swirling h er warm tongue around in there. She was hot. She could have been any woman you c ared to imagine, but she was the only one I pictured in my mind. I didn't cum, I

detonated. My back lifted completely off the bed as my whole body tensed, held aloft by head and heels, every muscle engaged in bursting my sperm into Mom's pu ssy, the best pussy in the world. Her deep, sultry laugh goaded me on until I co llapsed, exhausted. She was gone before I remembered to ask her about Dad's request. Over the next few days, Mom wore clothes that accented her behind. Although she wasn't obvious, I knew she was teasing me. I struggled not to say or do anything inappropriate which was all the harder because she didn't let me touch her for days. I was treated, or tortured, with several days of tight shorts and jeans th at hugged her buttocks and separated her cheeks as if announcing a womanly welco me. Once, while looking at her jeans as she and Dad were talking, I imagined tha t her ass was speaking directly to me, "Fuck me, come on, fuck me." I gave my head a shake just as Dad looked up at something, I guess whatever they 'd been discussing, and Mom turned around to look at me, smiling enigmatically a s she straightened one leg taut, lifting that hip, and placed her hand on its bu ttock. "What was that, dear?" she turned back to follow my father's gaze. That night Mom headed me off just outside her bedroom door as I tried to enter. I had heard the shower come on in their room, not surprising since I had been wa iting in the hallway. As I leaned against the wall in the hallway outside their bedroom, Mom's hand snaked inside my pajamas and fished my cock out. Her arm cur led around my neck as she stretched up to kiss me, jacking my cock throughout a long and sensuous embrace. She looked down when we finished and, her breath as short as mine, said, "It loo ks like you need it again." Her hand didn't stop pumping my cock. "Do you like t hat?" she cooed. Well, yeah. Her hand gripped me tightly, rubbing hard down the length of my shaft, then sque ezing so hard as she pulled my cock up that I though the head would come off. "Do you want it again?" I nodded, a pleading expression filling my face. Up and down, she continued her harsh masturbation. "Do you want me to?" she demanded. I nodded, looking at the ceiling, trying to hide the desperation in my eyes. I w as completely surprised when her mouth engulfed my cock. Shocked, I looked down to see her wonderful head of hair pumping up and down, vigorously sucking my joy ous member right down to the root. My hands dropped to her head but when I tried to hold her down she batted my hands away. I backed off, acceding to her demand . She was almost biting my cock but it still felt wonderful. In a matter of second s I released a torrent, a veritable flood built up over three days of her dangli ng that Mom ass in my face. A picture of me sliding between her cheeks filled my head as I filled hers. Take that, I cried to myself, thrusting forward, shoving my cock into her throat, holding her head to stop her from pulling away, thrill ed that she let me. "That's it until Father's day," she said when she straightened up and then quick

ly disappeared into her room, shutting the door behind her. I noticed that the shower had stopped. When? I wondered, hobbling to my room, pa jamas almost down to my knees. I woke up with Mom splayed over my cock again. It was just after four in the mor ning, like the last time. I hadn't expected her after her parting remark. Had sh e changed her mind or planned this all along? Who cared? I started fucking her s lowly, like before. "Faster," she urged, displeased. "Come on, fuck me harder." I thrust faster and harder, lifting us both off the bed. It wasn't enough. She y elled in my ear. "Come on! Fuck me!" I went wild, digging my heels and elbows in the bed, throwing myself up at her, almost trying to heave her clutching pussy off my cock, to no avail. Try as I mi ght, she rode me like a rodeo star, goading me on, mocking me, then just hanging on and cooing in my ear as I convulsed inside her, emptying my spunk insider he r. "That's it, that's it," she cried, hugging me close. "Give me everything, baby, squirt it in me." She disappeared quickly again but no matter, I wasn't going to ask her anything anyway. I was happy the way things were going. It was only a week away now. You'd have thought she might have some mercy that last week, especially after te lling me I wasn't getting any more until Father's day. But no. She wore the same tight shorts and ass-defining jeans but added short skirts to top it off. But t hat wasn't the worst. Every night in the living room, she sat opposite me, twist ing her hips to the side and pulling her legs up but holding her feet far enough out that I could see her accented bottom and the bare backs of her upper legs. And she always found a moment to suddenly look at me and flash that enigmatic sm ile, slowly closing her eyes just long enough for her lashes to flutter on her c heeks. Ah, cheeks. I couldn't keep that word out of my head. I pictured those beautiful globes for hours in my head, at home and all day at school. I couldn't think of anything else. All my time on the internet was now spent watching ass fucking o r reading up on how to get a woman to enjoy anal sex. That was a good thing beca use my first impulse for Father's day had bee to upend Mom at the first opportun ity and shove my hard cock into her behind. I learned that if I did that, it wou ld be the shortest ass fuck in history, and my last, at least with Mom. So I res earched and read carefully. Slow, slow, everything I read told me. Use lots of lube and relieve yourself fir st. This latter was usually a caution to women readers to get their lover off fi rst so they didn't lose control and ruin the experience for both of them. I did the equivalent of a year long correspondence course in anal sex in one week. If astrophysics was ass fucking, I would have been put in charge of the space progr am. Friday. I left school early so I could get a ride home with Mom from her club be fore she went home, thinking I might even be early enough to catch her still wor king out. No such luck. I spotted her sitting in the food court on the way in. I was about to join her when I recognized the woman sitting with her. It was the one we'd met on the trail, the one that had watched us from the bluff.

I figured they knew each other but I thought in just a passing fashion, like rec ognizing someone you passed when changing machines. Not a coffee partner. Yet, t here they were, in cheerful, animated discussion, hands waving, and tossing smil es and laughs in abundance. What the hell was this? I slunk back into the hallway outside the cafeteria, lurking and watching, tryin g to figure out what this obviously closer friendship meant. They hadn't seemed so friendly on the trail. Was this new, then? Or, had Mom been surprised to see her friend and felt uncomfortable given what had happened only moments before? A s my mind chewed through the possibilities, both women suddenly stood and turned to the exit, walking toward me, still talking. Mom's friend looked up, spied me , and said something to Mom who then looked up with a big smile, beckoning to me . "Michael, what a lovely surprise," she said, walking up to me and taking my hand . Turning to her friend, she said, "Do you remember Alicia, from our hike the ot her day?" I shook my head and though I'm sure Alicia had seen the recognition in my face w hen she had first spotted me, she graciously played along. "Hello, Michael. It's so nice to meet you. Your mother has told me so much about you." Her voice was soft and silky and her smile seemed to convey a hidden mess age that she knew a lot more than her perfunctory statement indicated. "Oh, don't listen to Mom," I blushed slightly. "I'm just an ordinary guy, like y our son," I burst out, blowing my feigned ignorance about meeting her on the tra il, but both women let it pass. "No," she mused. "Not ordinary and certainly not like my son." She smiled sweetl y, and then provacatively looked me up and down. I blushed again. Alicia grabbed Mom's arm and walked her away. "Come on, Emily, walk me to my car ." I followed these two attractive, fortyish women, leaning into one another as the y walked and giggling like schoolgirls. Though they were different and couldn't be mistaken for each other, they were similar in many ways, and one in particula r. If you were just looking at their gorgeous behinds, you'd be hard pressed to say which was whose. I'm sure I drew more than one frown as we walked out of the club, my eyes glued on the two sexy asses in front of me. A leer is so obvious, especially to women, but I didn't care. At the car, Alicia managed to stand between us, her facing Mom and me staring at her ass which she managed to sway about. She even said something so funny to he r and Mom that they both bent over laughing, her cheeks straining against her ti ght, white shorts. My boner grew uncomfortable in my jeans. When we left, as soo n as Mom turned away, Alicia looked directly down at my bulging pants and smiled . In our car, Mom said, "She's nice, isn't she?" "Sure," I answered, as flippantly as I could, guiding the car out of the parking lot. "You sure seemed to like her," Mom poked the side of my knee with her toe, evide ntly having dropped her sandal on the floor. "Mom," I complained. "Put your seatbelt on."

Defiant, Mom poked me with her toe again. "Come on, admit it," she said, glancin g down into my lap. "I can see you really liked her." "Whatever you say, Mom." "I could feel your eyes," Mom persisted. "But not all the time. I wonder where t hey were?" she teased. "Mom," I said, exasperated. "She fills out a pair of shorts nicely, doesn't she?" Mom twisted sideways on th e seat, crossing her right leg over her knee, stretching it out and bringing it to rest on my thigh. "So do you," I replied. Mom ignored my compliment. "Did you like her shorts?" Mom's heel dug into my leg , pulling it toward her while her foot twisted and pointed her toes into my lap, pressing against the bulge her teasing had produced. "I like yours better," I tried again. "She has her own son to admire hers." Mom dug her foot in, using the balls of her foot to rub my jeans. "But her son isn't as handsome as mine, or as loving," Mom purred, her foot rubb ing my cock. I didn't answer. I was trying to stay focused on the road. "What would you do with a pair of shorts like that?" Mom pestered. "You'll find out on Father's day," I growled. "Ohhhhh, so intense," she teased. "Mom. I'm driving." "Then you'd better hurry home." Mom's foot softly rubbed my cock the rest of the way home. Unfortunately, Dad's car was parked in his spot on the far side of the driveway. He was already home. I pulled up beside it. "I think we should put the car in the garage early today." Mom laid her head on the seat, her foot lazily scraping up and down the front of my jeans as she smil ed at me, fingers toying with my shirt sleeve. The garage door was still closing and I had just shut off the engine when Mom's hands roughly pulled me out of my jeans. Holding me upright, her mouth closed ov er my cock. She was rough again but this time didn't push my hands away when the y closed over the back of her head. I probably would have thrust her face agains t the roof but the steering wheel restricted my movements. Still, I held her hea d firmly in my crotch, grinding it down on my cock, thrilled as she gurgled for breath, foolishly undisturbed by her choking gasps. Triumphantly, I splattered h er tonsils, remorse seeping into my brain only after I filled her mouth. She didn't swallow it. Instead, she let it gurgle out, streaming and oozing down my shaft, soaking my jeans. Mom looked up, a wanton, horny woman with a streak of cum dribbling over her lip onto her chin. Her eyes were wild and excited as s he swiped my goo away with the back of her hand.

"I'll keep Dad busy while you sneak upstairs." Saturday. Tomorrow was Father's day. Mom was dressed in an absolutely killer out fit, shortie white shorts with a matching sleeveless top that emphasized her tan ned and supple upper arms, and hugged her sides to accent the narrowness of her waist, the wide flare of her hips, and the jut of her firm ass. Her top was unbu ttoned deep between her small breasts to ward off the heat, but not my eyes whic h dipped into her tanned cleavage. Several times that day she sat in the patio lounge, one leg resting over the oth er, foot dangling a sandal languidly up and down in the oppressing heat, before struggling up and walking barefoot across the grass to remove an offending weed from the garden. Always, she bent over with her ass pointing directly at me, pul ling on her victim with gentle force so the roots wouldn't snap and stay in plac e to grow again. Such care took time, time for her buttocks to press against her shorts, to move with the slight sway as her legs adjusted to minute variations in the force applied by her arms, cheeks alternately tensing with the effort to maintain the balance of the sexiest weeding machine on the planet. 'Soon,' they whispered. Towards the end of the day, as Dad and I shared the double lawn chair divided by a shared, built-in table, Mom stretched out face down on the lounge in front of us. Dad was engrossed in a book while I was enamored with, well, you know what I was looking at. Mom's feet were crooked in about a foot apart, leaving a slight part between her tanned legs all the way up to her shorts. Without looking back, Mom's hands sud denly lifted from her sides and came to rest at the back of her shorts. Grasping the hem of each leg, she pulled her shorts up high on her ass, allowing her che eks to bulge out and stretching the material tightly against her crotch. Casuall y, with the legs of her shorts so lifted, Mom's fingers reached in scratched the inner sides of her cheeks for at least a minute before letting her shorts loose and dropping her hands back to her sides. Several seconds later, she turned hea d to look back to deploy a cheeky smile. It was a long night, probably the longest one in my life. I reviewed my notes fr om my internet research, over and over. Father's Day. I was up early, in more ways than one, but I wasn't the first one, at least in that other respect. Both of my parents were up, already finishing b reakfast when I arrived in the kitchen. Mom smiled at my surprise to find them b oth up so early. Only Dad seemed surprised to see me. "Oh, good morning," I said. "What's up?" Before either of them could answer, I followed up with, "Happy Father's Day, Dad ." I rushed over and bent down to give him a big hug. Dad clasped me back in a manly, bear-like embrace, hands slapping my shoulders. "Thanks, son," Dad said as we released each other and I straightened up. "I'm so rry I can't be here." I immediately looked confused. I was elated at the opportunity to be alone with Mom, but I really was confused. Dad was always home on Father's Day. We always d id something special together, and it was usually a surprise. "I have a very special meeting in New York, Monday morning so I have to leave," he explained, nodding toward the front door where his suitcase and laptop bag sa t in the entranceway. "Perhaps you can give me a lift to the airport?"

I nodded, "Sure Dad." "I knew this was coming but I had hoped to reschedule so I didn't say anything," Dad explained further. "But I couldn't. This day has always meant a lot to us, so I've asked your mother to fill in for me, to do something special with you to day. Would that be OK?" Mom smiled. I beamed back at Dad, "Sure Dad. We'll think of something." "Great, son." Dad said, getting to his feet. "I warned Mom a while ago, so I thi nk she has something planned, but it's a secret," he turned and smiled at Mom. " I'm sure she'll think of something very special. You can fill me in when I get b ack." Mom stood as well. "You'd better get going. You'll be late." Mom stretched up an d gave Dad a hug and a kiss. Dad went to get his bags and I retrieved my running shoes and knelt down beside him to put them on. "Here," Mom said, thrusting a scrap of paper at me, letting it fall to the floor when I didn't take it, too busy tying my shoes. "I have some things for you to pick up before you come home." "Be careful," Mom said to Dad, her hand brushing his arm as she leaned in to giv e him another kiss goodbye. I looked down at the paper which was lying face up with its single item clearly legible in felt pen: - KY jelly I stared, my hands frozen in mid-tie. Time slowed, then quickly restarted as my foot reached forward and stepped on the note. Jesus, god! What was she thinking? The drive to the airport was a blur. I must have automatically driven safely bec ause Dad didn't say anything. He didn't want me to go inside to wait with him an d I was pleased about that. I rushed home, nearly forgetting Mom's note. Did she really mean for me to get that? Where would I find it? I stopped at a drug store and spent half an hour looking for KY jelly without an y success. I finally girded up the courage to ask a guy working in the store. He laughed and said they didn't have that, suggesting an adult shop downtown. I we nt beet red and the guy took pity on me, indicating for me to follow as he walke d away, explaining that they did have some petroleum jelly that was almost as 's oothing' to the skin. I headed home, armed with several jars of petroleum jelly. My face had almost returned to its normal shade by the time I pulled into the d riveway. I ran to the door. It was locked. Locked? I dropped the keys twice before I mana ged to get the door open. I ran into the kitchen and looked outside for Mom. She wasn't there. I ran upstairs after taking my running shoes off. Then I remember ed that I had left the bag with the petroleum jelly in the car. I ran outside in my stocking feet and got it. I stopped to catch my breath when I returned to th e house. That's when I started to get some sense. Slow down, knucklehead. Get a grip on yourself, remember your research.

I forced myself to calm down and then walked with exaggerated slowness up the st airs and down the hallway to Mom's room. The door was ajar, almost closed. I pus hed it open and stepped inside. What a sight. Mom was lying face down on the bed, stretched over a pair of stack ed pillows, arms at her sides disappearing under her hips, busy somewhere undern eath as betrayed by the tiny movements of the bare ass above. Oh, that lovely, g orgeous ass that I had been dreaming of and ogling for weeks, now uncovered befo re me, parted legs hiding nothing, certainly not her dewey, lightly haired pussy . "Like what you see?" Mom's asked playfully. I nodded. "Better than a pair of shorts?" "Yesss," I hissed, moving toward the bed, shedding my shirt. As I stood at the foot of the bed, admiring her body, I noticed a jar of KY jell y and a couple of plastic squeeze bottles of clear lubricant on the bed beside M om. My eyes followed the curves up her body until they met hers looking intensel y into mine. "You're wondering why I sent you to the store?" "Yes." "You had to ask for it, didn't you?" "Yes." "Was it embarrassing?" "Yes," my face reddened from the memory. Mom lifted her ass and moved it in a small, sensous circle. "Was it worth the effort?" "Yes!" I replied, emphatically. "Get undressed," Mom hissed, arching her ass. I dropped my jeans and shorts and crawled onto the bed. "Take off your socks," Mom ordered in a jarring, motherly tone. I did as she asked, fumbling in my haste. Naked, I clambered up behind her. She was surprised when I dropped to her side, propped up on my elbow, facing her. I could see it in her facem, that she had expected me to push my cock between her cheeks right away. That's why she'd been fingering herself and was already well lubricated. I reached down and placed my hand on her bum, stretching my fingers down between her legs. As I suspected, they were already slippery. She'd prepare d herself, ready for the onslaught she was sure I couldn't stop after weeks of a nticipation. Well, she'd teased me mercilessly for weeks. And in those weeks, I'd armed mysel f with sufficient knowledge to tease her for a few tortuous hours. I didn't poss ess practiced skills, but I was willing to take the time to learn.

I pulled my hand away from her legs and skinned my fingers and palm lightly over her cheeks, moving around slowly, taking time to explore the shape of each indi vidual cheek. I caressed her bottom for several minutes, all the while gazing in to her eyes with a deadpan expression. I didn't push my fingers between her chee ks to feel the forbidden hole. That was for later. Soon, but later. I leaned forward to kiss the corner of Mom's mouth. "I love my mother's ass," I whispered. I reached under her with my free hand, sliding under her tit, pinchin g her hard nipple, reveling in the pleased wince that crossed her face. "I'm goi ng to kiss it, and lick it, and worship it with my tongue." Mom's eyes closed as if she was imagining it. I softly pinched her buttocks. "But first I'm going to suck my mother's beautiful little tits." I pushed my head into her side, forcing her shoulder up as my face nuzzled the s ide of her breast. My hand pulled her tit toward me, feeding her long nipple int o my mouth. I sucked it in hard. "Ohhh, baby," Mom cried. "Suck me." I did. I sucked and sucked her tit, my hand continuing to caress her buns, finge rs straying between her legs to tease the bottom of her wet pussy. When I finall y pulled my face off her tit, my fingertips were dipped into her slit, brushing sideways back and forth, expanding her puffy, wet lips. Propping myself up on my other elbow, I surveyed Mom's willing body, her parted legs and trembling butto cks. I reached for one of the squeeze bottles that she had placed on the bed and alig ned its nozzle with the crack of Mom's ass. I squeezed, expelling a stream of vi scous oil into her crack, watching in fascination as it slowly oozed between her tightly pressed cheeks. As it magically disappeared, I squeezed in more to repl ace it, and then again. Dropping the bottle to the bed, I leaned in so I could whisper in Mom's ear. My fingertips began tracing a line up and down her crack, as softly as I could, tea sing her flesh. "I can imagine " I whispered, ... your ass." g her perineum

what it would be like to see you for the first time, from behind, fingers trailing along her crack. "The first time ... ever I saw Stroking, stroking, right down to her pussy, and then up, ticklin before returning to tease her crack.

"God, that very first look. To see that woman's ass for the first time," I whisp ered, "and wonder what it would feel like to brush against her tush." Mom groaned and turned her face into the bed. I followed, keeping my mouth by he r ear, whispering. "To see the look in her face as she watched me in the mirror, walking toward her through the store, to the rack she was standing beside flipping through skirts. To see her apprehension, knowing I was going to do it, that I was going to brus h myself against her bottom, in public, and that even so, she would shamelessly respond, pushing her ass back to offering the promise of her dark, secret hole." Mom moaned into the mattress. "Never before taken, never before offered," my whisper intensified. Mom turned her face toward me again. "Never," she hissed.

I pushed my thumb between her slippery, rubbery cheeks until my thumbprint skidd ed across her puckered hole. "Oh, god," Mom cried. I leaned down, dipping my tongue in her ear as my thumb gently rubbed the entran ce to her back door, and then slid past. She groaned but I took pity on her and stretched my long middle finger back to stand in for my thumb, rubbing its finge rprint softly over her crinkly donut. I whispered as I tickled her hole, about how I would slowly work her to the back of the store, into a fitting room, pull her skirt and panties down her legs and spread them as she leaned against the mirror. I told her how I wouldn't be able to stop myself from kissing and licking such beautiful cheeks, pushing my tongu e in deeper to tickle her pussy before poking into her dirty hole. I wasn't aware when my finger first crooked and dipped into Mom's hole but I sud denly realized that her crinkle was gripping my first knuckle and my fingertip w as knocking on her inner ring. Her ass was quivering slightly, pulling away but immediately pushing back, as if confused about whether to repel an intruder or w elcome a guest. My finger moved easily into this tiny hallway but was blocked by a pulsating door that opened briefly to solicit its entrance but quickly closed before the invitation could be accepted. I stopped whispering in Mom's ear then, pulling my head away and moving to hover over her ass. I used my free hand to pull Mom's cheeks apart so I could see my finger more clearly. I pulled it away to see Mom's little hole, no longer closed like a butterfly shutter, but open like a black nickel. I lowered my head and d ipped my tongue down to touch it, flicking all around and then inserting the tip into the little hallway until the sides filled her ring, wiggling. "Oh, God!" Mom yelled. I pulled my head back and grinned at her ass. Yes. Now we're talking. You're goi ng to regret all that teasing, I thought. I lowered my head and began teasing he r asshole with my flicking tongue. There were many more moans. I poked and flicked and licked for a long time. Seve ral fingers were inserted into her pussy by the time I lifted my head again, mov ing slowly, nothing fast. I wanted her to ache for it. I raised my head, pulled my fingers from her pussy, and grabbed a tube of lube. Mom lay panting on the bed, breath ragged and hoarse. I squirted copious quantit ies of lube all around her hole, then spread her cheeks wide apart with both han ds, stretching her hole. Her inner ring was no longer closing on me, my tongue h ad seen to that. Carefully, I inserted a finger into the darkness. It was briefl y gripped and then released, then grabbed and let go several times in rapid succ ession. I pulled my gooey finger out, then carefully reinserted it. Several more times, then I started moving it steadily in and out. A minute after her ass began risin g to meet me, I stopped and inserted the tip of a second finger. Very, very slow ly, I pressed down but it was her rising hips that forced my fingers fully insid e. She began thrusting her hips rapidly up and down, shoving her ass onto my fin gers, moaning and groaning into the mattress. When her fuck motions were steady, I pulled my fingers out to a loud, desperate groan. Quickly, I stretched myself over her ass, looking down at her pussy. I pulled he r cheeks apart again, and allowed two fingers to just dip inside but my chest st opped her from shoving her ass up far enough to envelop them. I stretched my nec

k down, lowering my head until my tongue could reach between her legs and starte d licking her pussy and perineum. Her ass humped wildly back at me but I kept my fingers dipped in far enough to just pierce her inner ring. She came hard when my tongue reached her ass again, shuddering violently, her thighs quivering like she was being shocked. I kept my fingers inside her, stretching her ring as my tongue kept tickling aro und her hole while her orgasm settled. She was still for a while but then her as s began moving involuntarily again. Minutes later, I pushed my fingers deep unti l they were fully plugged inside her. Her ass shuddered to a stop and I kept my fingers still. Again, after a minute, she began to move again. Just barely, but soon, she was humping up onto my fingers. I pushed them in, past the second knuc kles until they widened. Holding them there, I pushed Mom's ass down into the pi llow. It was time. I scrambled around behind her, between her now widely spread legs. She opened th em even more in anticipation. Picking up the jar of KY, I opened it and slathere d it all over my rock hard cock, then pushed more onto and between her cheeks. I tossed the jar onto the bed so hard it bounced onto the floor. I leaned forward , nosing my cock to Mom's hole, gaping in front of me. The tip slid inside easily but when the wider head filled her until her ring clo sed tightly around it, Mom's hand suddenly flung back, palm toward me. I stopped , but held my ground. I didn't pull away. Mom's hand fell to the bed. Mom kept a steady pressure against my cock and, slowly, interminably, I pressed forward until suddenly, I just popped through the inner ring. Mom's hand flew up again so I stopped though I desperately wanted to shove home. She exerted no pr essure this time. We just lay there, her on her tummy with ass raised up and me leaning forward, cock barely inserted inside her ass. Mom's hand dropped to the mattress and the steady pressure began again. Slowly, slowly, my shaft moved further and further inside. A couple of minutes later, my groin pressed against Mom's cheeks. I was all the way in! I didn't pull out and Mom didn't pull away. She pushed back a little harder and I pressed in with equal force. She moved her ass around and I slowly churned my hips, helping her make the circle. We kept this up for several minutes, the circ le growing wider in tiny increments as Mom began making odd sounds. These were n ew fuck sounds I hadn't heard before and it excited me tremendously. I started g rinding the circle harder and Mom responded with louder grunts and more strange sounds. I started grinding harder and Mom responded. We were moving back and forth now b ut my cock wasn't moving in and out of her ass, we were too closely attuned. But we were grinding rapidly against each other, rocking to and fro on the bed. My very first ass fuck, and Mom's too. She kept shoving her ass back, impaling hers elf on my grinding, ass-loving dick. This was so incredibly good. I stopped suddenly, grasped a handful of her hair, and pulled my cock back, stop ping when the head was widening her sphincter again, then shoved it back in. Thi s was repeated again and again, a slow, teasing retreat followed by a vigorous f orward lunge. I pressed on the outside of Mom's widespread thighs and she obligi ngly closed her legs. I shoved myself in deep and straddled her ass. Picking her hair up, I gently tugged her head back, far enough to look wildly sexy but not too uncomfortable for her. I started fucking her ass in earnest. Mom seemed to l ove it, knowing I was riding her, riding her ass. I quickly changed my trot into a long comfortable lope which I held for quite a respectable time before I couldn't hold back from a finishing gallop. It was a f

urious attack and I let Mom's head fall to the mattress as I pressed both hands onto her shoulders to hold myself steady, in constant danger of rocking myself o ff her slippery hole. Fuck, the way her cheeks squished up when I slammed into h er. The spongy feel of it. Amazing! I meant to pull out and cum on her ass but I didn't. I emptied myself in her bum . I straddled her limp body for some time, twitching inside her until my cock so ftened and slipped out. I collapsed on the bed and was only dimly aware of Mom g etting up, followed by the sound of the shower. It was barely noon. I toweled myself dry and walked into the bedroom naked. Mom was lying on her bac k, eyes closed, her breathing shallow. She was napping. I crept onto the bed, ca reful not to disturb her, and waited a minute or so just to be sure before slipp ing my hands under her knees and lifting her legs up. Before I set her down, I p ushed the pillows so they lay squarely under her bottom. Holding her bent legs p ushed back but held together, I marveled at the rosy pussy and asshole lewdly ex posed before me. My cock began reacting to the sight, stiffening like a long bal loon being pumped full. She looked so sexy like that, her hips raised, legs bent back. Her skin was so s oft and feminine. I was really hard now, my cock bobbing above her pussy and the hole beneath it exposed by her spread cheeks. Holding her feet in place near my shoulder, I picked up a squeeze bottle and squirted the slippery oil along the length of my shaft, missing several times as it bobbed about. I squeezed the res t of the bottle all over her pussy and ass, soaking her soft fur in an oily mass . Tossing the bottle, I manipulated Mom's pussy with my fingers and thumb, gently massaging and parting her pubes, circling her clit, briefly plugging my thumb in side only to quickly withdraw to trace yet another circle around her cunt. Near the bottom, I dangled my fingers down to tease her asshole but not every time. I mixed it up, trying to surprise her, hanging on the slightest response -- the b arest twitch of her lip to fleetingly form a smile, a tightening around her clos ed eyes -- that was my reward. I did this for a long time and Mom never opened h er eyes or gave any indication that she was awake. Cautiously, I leaned forward, pushing my cock down until it nugded the glistenin g asterisk under her pussy. My tip was welcomed inside, just barely, inserting h alf an inch until the helmet filled the breach. A frown crossed Mom's face and h er head shook slowly from side to side. I held still, restarting my teasing mani pulation of her pussy, propping her calves across my left shoulder and reaching down to gently pinch and roll her right nipple. Her frown persisted. Perhaps it was too soon to have her ass again. I r n y

started talking, trying to distract her. What to say? I began talking about he friend, what a nice ass she had, almost as good as Mom's. I wondered if her so would appreciate it as much as I did hers and imagined a scene with that pimpl face geek pushing a surprisingly long but thin cock between Alicia's cheeks.

My cock popped inside. Every nerve in my body tingled with exhileration. Yes! Su ccess. I continued my whispered story, describing how exquisite his long rod fel t as it slid through Alicia's slippery back door, how much she loved feeling the thickness of its head, how full it made her feel. How fantastic Alicial thought it felt to be fucked in the ass by her own son. I was moving slowly in and out now. My hand had left Mom's tit to hold her legs in place while I fucked her ass. My other hand remained on her pussy but I could only spare enough brain power to hold my thumb inside, wiggling it inside her c

unt in concert with my thrusts into her ass. I lost the story. My mind couldn't keep it up but that was ok. Mom was moaning w ith each thrust now. I'm sure she was past my whispered narration and concentrat ing on how good it felt to have her son fuck her ass. I had moved her legs furth er back and was squatting over her bent hips, banging her in long strokes, pausi ng to root around, pulling out slowly, holding my head at her entrance to maximi ze the stretch before slamming back in for yet another grind. My hands returned to her chest, a tit and nipple firmly gripped by each, squeezing on the in thrus t and grind, releasing on withdrawal. We weren't quiet. Though Mom's eyes still hadn't opened, she was moaning and gru nting loudly. So was I, but strangely, we didn't groan in unison. Our sounds rem inded me of a bunch of pigs I had watched years ago when we visited a local farm on a school trip. That weird memory triggered a frantic release and I began hum ping Mom's ass with wild abandon, grunting like a whole herd of pigs. My second release. This time I pulled out of Mom's ass and sprayed my spunk firs t on her pussy and tummy, then grabbed my cock and aimed it at her tits, finally leaning forward in an attempt to squirt some on her face but I could only pump hard enough to hit her chin by then. I thought she would give me shit for such v ulgar treatment but she just smiled at me when she finally opened her eyes. "Like that, do you?" she laughed. I nodded, my flushed face being answer enough. As I recovered my breath, Mom lying before me with her feet now firmly planted o n the mattress, legs spread wide, my cum spread up her torso, Mom said, "Alicia' s son is too dumb to know what he could have. It's a shame, really. Especialy si nce her husband is such an asshole." I nodded, more interested in the wad of spunk dripping down Mom's chin, and the fact she hadn't bothered to wipe it away, than hearing about Alicia's stupid, ge eky son. "I'm going to invite them over for dinner next weekend. Just Alicia and her husb and. Maybe he won't be able to come."