The Mother Memories Chapter 5
“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 transgression
was involved, real or not. “I’m sorry honey. I hope I didn’t mess up your 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 pressed.
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 fondle
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 innocently
normal action cranked up the sexual tension and she looked so hot walking ahead of
me in her stocking feet, her buttocks patiently taking turns bulging against her dress.
Dad wasn’t sleeping. He was sitting up in bed reading and I immediately felt uncomfortable
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 looked
at herself in the mirror. The door was open and as I looked over Mom’s shoulder I
could see the mirrored door, and through it, my father from the side, sitting 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 appeared
around her knees and were pushed down her legs so her feet could step out 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 herself
with several strands she picked on the right side of her head, toward the front. 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 over 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, before glancing to the side
at the reflection in the bathroom door of my father. He had slumped down in the bed
but was still reading.
Mom’s ass wiggled against my sweatpants and the hard cock underneath settled into
her womanly notch.
“We’ll have to finish this tomorrow night,” she said, pushing back and rubbing her
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 pushed,
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. Looking 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 sufficient 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, inside her
dress, and moved up her tummy to cup her breasts. Her training voice started again,
repeating the same instructions she had used the first time. Her voice was calm and
didn’t change as my hands slid over the top of her breasts and squeezed her tits,
my fingers finding and pinching her nipples, rolling and tugging.
God, how I loved her nipples. They were like two perfect little cylinder, jutting
out, waiting to be teased. I wanted to suck them and I whispered as much in her 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 between
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 between her cheeks
but not so far that the huge pyramid in my sweatpants wouldn’t be readily apparent
should Dad suddenly walk through the bathroom door. Try as I might, 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 watching
us? Obviously he could see us in the mirror if we could see him before he turned out
the light. What was he doing? The air was taut with tension. Would he suddenly burst
angrily through the door? What was he doing? My eyes weren’t accommodating to the
darkened room, not standing here in the bright bathroom, so my ears 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 in short, sharp
movements. I held her waist to stop her from leaving, relaxing when 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 push
my hands around her hips to rest on her belly and, after no outraged bellow from 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 wearing
panties! My cock throbbed on her ass, the ass that had been naked under the dress
all along. I leaned down into her neck and groaned, pushing my hand lower, 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 to
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, grabbing her
dress and helping to pull it over her hips as I felt Mom’s hands reach 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 hands
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 minutes 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, searching
in her damp heat. Holding my gaze, Mom leaned forward and allowed her slit to 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 shoved
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 watch her face as
I fucked her faster and faster. I couldn’t stop. I was like a train, 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 my 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, triggering 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 forward 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 inside 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 town. I had to sleep with
Mom. I pulled my sweatpants up and kissed Mom on the back, 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 down
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? Something 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 reading
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 should
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 focused
on the paper, spread flat on the table rather than held up with his face in it, 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 edges. 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 and 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 outside
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 or
Mother’s day, whenever she’s feeling older.”
My memory told me Dad was right but I hadn’t really noticed it before. But things
had changed.
“I’ve never heard her …”
“Well, that because she says it to me. She gets all antsy but calms down after few
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 they 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 you
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, and she’ll
feel save with y
ou 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 interests
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 something,
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 there
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 the
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 because it was
hot outside in the sun, but she had forgotten to do them back up. I wasn’t about to
remind her, thinking her chest looked pretty good this morning. She 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 Mom
ignored them and simply increased her business-like pace. She didn’t do anything I
could see to attract attention to herself. I guess she wasn’t as keen to show off
her wares as Dad thought. In the drug store, we walked straight to the back counter
to place our order. There was one older man sitting in the little U-shaped 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 did. He wasn’t shy.
I sat in a chair opposite the old man and watched him look at Mom. I couldn’t blame
him, she did look sexy. After placing her order, Mom sat beside me, legs held 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 over
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 asked,
eyes glinting.
I nodded and Mom raised her right leg and pulled it to the side until just its ankle
was resting on the other knee, opening her thighs to provide a shocking view 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 pharmacist
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 away. 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 lips.
Mom’s laughing stopped and I was aware of her hand pulling away from her now questioning
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 the 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 back
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 my tongue
out as far as I could and dragged it up her pussy until it was flattened over her
mound. I shook my head sideways and rubbed my tongue over her puffiness 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 from 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 thrusting
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 against
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 carts, 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 hadn’t been able to park closer,
though I’d been a little upset that we’d had to walk so far.
m
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 the 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 she 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 seat.
“What are you doing?” her eyes opened as I pushed her shoulders to force her hips
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. Though she looked
around, she didn’t try to sit up and she lifted her hips
and bent her 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 onto
the seat, leaning over her. Comprehension formed on her face as she saw my open 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 her
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. “Please,” I gasped.
“I need you.”
Mom’s head was still shaking but her hand suddenly appeared between us and grasped
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 her 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 up
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 mouth
as she held her head twisted back at a constant angle to make it easier for me.
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 stream of
cum into Mom’s mouth, which closed tightly around my shaft, her body convulsing 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 legs, mouth pressed
against her wet panties, nose aligned with her vertical crevice 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 looking 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 should 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 slightly
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 the kitchen
from the backyard and glanced at Mom as she disappeared down the hallway, 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 he
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 put 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 rush
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 at 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 morning.
Talking to Dad, I kept wondering if Mom would remember about Dad’s pill and whether
or not she would actually give it to him. Her headlong rush up the stairs made me
think she was having second thoughts. After all, that was a pretty wild and dangerous
thing we’d done at the mall.
Lunch arrived on a big tray complete with tall glasses of fresh lemonade, a specialty
of Mom’s. I was thirsty and grabbed one as soon as Mom set the tray down despite 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 only
interesting part was when Dad asked me if I was going to braid Mom’s hair this 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 enjoying the sun and sitting
back in our chairs, Dad and I in the two, classic wooden 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 grown
… 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 very real merits
of its own. As Mom talked to Dad and nibbled on her sandwich, she pulled one leg up
higher on the lounge, allowing me to see the back of that thigh. 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.
“Hm
mm, I’m not as hungry as I thought I’d be,” Dad commented, putting the last part
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 inch
in the bottom, set it down and closed his eyes. “It’s so beautiful out,” he sighed.
“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 just
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 though 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 different 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 singing 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 swayed from
side to side, legs tightly together. Still, I could briefly see the backs of both
thighs as her calves passed back and forth in front of them. It was several passes
before my brain twigged to something my eyes must have noticed right 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 between 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 together, along the lounge. Bummer.
I kept watching her, not moving a muscle because she was still looking my way. Her
hands raised languidly above her chest, still resting on her elbows beside her, and
began toying with the knot that tied her blouse together. Mom tugged at the ends and
slowly, slowly, the knot loosened. I wanted to turn my head to see what Dad was doing.
I knew he was there because I could see his feet at the bottom of my field of vision.
He must have dozed off like I had but he had to be still 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 Dad wake
up too? Should I warn Mom that I was awake? Mom finished undoing the knot 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 her
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 twice more until
her tits were bare, small swells of flesh rising from her chest capped 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 wasn’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 sides of the lounge cushion.
Mom’s legs were open now and I could clearly see that she wasn’t wearing any panties
at all, her lightly haired muff plain to see, legs spread wide enough to open a pink
slit between her nether lips. Her smile widened and I knew then she was aware that
I was watching.
Just then, Dad snorted! Mom’s legs snapped shut and her hands quickly pushed her blouse
together as she sprung to a sitting position, pulling her legs up and crossing them
to hide the position of her skirt. I could feel Dad moving on his side of our joined
chair. I opened my eyes and sat up too, looking over at Dad, surprised to see his
eyes still closed. He had only changed his position.
I looked at Mom. Our eyes met and we laughed, quietly, nervously. Mom looked like
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 crossed over
the other, and long reddish hair cascading over both arms and legs. Although 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 trying
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 admiring her legs
but it was her bare pussy that captured my attention. I remembered the feel of it
on my tongue that afternoon, at least, the feel of it under her panties. 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 pressure
to urge them apart. Slowly, Mom’s arms loosened and fell away, allowing her knees
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 mine,
Mom’s fingers found the front of my thighs and slid up, lightly brushing over 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, using 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 forward,
legs wide and waddling up the side of the lounge, leaning Mom back and following her
down, keeping my cock on her face. Her eyes laughed at me all the way until her back
was pressed against the slightly raised lounge cushion. That’s when I drew back until
my cock head rested on her lips and she opened her mouth, inviting me inside. I slid
home.
Oh god, that wonderful mouth of hers. Such an incredible feeling. Mom didn’t close
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 first, 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 cock back in when
she was ready.
My thighs burned with the strain of squatting over her like that, dipping my cock
in for a dozen thrusts and then waiting while she coughed. Her mouth became wetter
and wetter and the gag pauses less frequent, farther apart, until I was steadily fucking
her mouth. I remember thinking that this was what heaven must be like, and that made
me think about how natural this was. In medieval times, in small 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 squelched 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 seed
into Mom’s mouth which, already half filled with saliva and cock, quickly overflowed,
spilling out over her lips and running down her cheeks and chin. I pulled out, afraid
of drowning her, and let the last couple of strings burst over her face, though thankfully
not in her precious hair.
Mom struggled to swallow but she did manage it. She spoke to me then, but not angrily
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 wanted
and proceeded to lick my own cum off Mom’s face, depositing it into her open mouth.
I could scrape it up with my tongue but I couldn’t bring myself to swallow it. I licked
her face until it was clean, pushing my tongue in her mouth for 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, stretching
my feet out behind me and onto the patio. I didn’t waste time, I dug my tongue into
her cunt, vigorously wiggling it around, then pulled out and lapped her all around
her lips and up and down her slit, then dug in for some more. I kept doing that for
a long time, until her legs were writhing and her hands clutched my head in a vice
grip. Then I pulled my face up and started gently teasing her clit, licking gently,
nibbling and tugging with my lips, licking again, pushing 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 erotic
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 from 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 kiss, standing
behind Dad’s chair, my hand reaching down to cup her bare ass under 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 activities.
My young cock was already stirring as my thoughts turned toward the evening. Another
night away from my friends. I was turning into a real momma’s boy.
Ch. 5 – Son braids Mom’s hair for Mother’s day.
After that, I had to get out of the house. It was just too hard to hang around watching
Mom without touching her. So I left. I called a couple of buddies but they were already
doing stuff and I didn’t actually feel like company anyway. I needed 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 through miles of beautiful
country without really paying attention to it, my mind playing 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, burger and pizza places, and parties,
sometimes hanging out with my friends, more often 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 excuse 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. But 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 imagine
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 tummy 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 the
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 evidence
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 successful.
I was late for dinner, quite late. It was almost dark when I got home and Dad admonished
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 returned
to me, arched high. Her robe was cinched tightly around her waist and, seeing she
was already changed for bed, I realized how late I really was. M
y eyes traced appreciatively
down her body, past the robe and along her legs to the fluffy slippers on her feet,
and back. I wasn’t shy. I didn’t mind if she saw my thoughts reflected in my face
and my actions.
“Sorry, Mom.” I quietly offered.
m
“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 me 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 table in the chair across
the corner from mine. She smiled while I ate but let me eat without interruption,
not talking until I was almost finished. Her presence made 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 should
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 her
hair and that he should lock the doors and turn the lights out when he came up. 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 kitchen and
walk past Dad on the way upstairs. I rushed to my room and put my pajamas 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, where
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 apart, 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 pulled 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 her 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 what
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 collector’s
item.”
“Really?” Mom cried, opening her legs a little more, enough for me to see the sexy
way her thighs widened as they flattened on the seat. “What makes you think that?”
“There’s a hint, a lascivious quality. I can’t quite explain it, but your item seems
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 legs
opened even more and her panties puffed forward delineating their underlying sculpture
so finely that a permanent memory was burnt into my retinas, forever associating 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 from the
hall made me stiffen — not where you think — my whole going rigid in fear.
Mom’s knees snapped shut and her robe was quickly closed and securely tied. I had
the presence of mind to take a handful of her hair and start separating it into 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 bathroom.
“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 door
almost shut. The tinkle of pee followed seconds later.
I pressed myself into Mom’s hair, between her shoulder blades, nudging my cock suggestively
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 silent
while I worked, her eyes averted. She didn’t look at me until the braid was almost
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 flipping
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, me braiding, and Mom sitting calmly on the
bench not looking at either of us. I had completed four long braids and thought I
was finished but Mom indicated the sides of her head, toward the front where her hair
was shorter. I began doing a couple of short braids on each side.
I stepped close to do these, leaning over Mom’s head and shoulders. I couldn’t help
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 sufficiently 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 farthest from Dad, appeared
in front of her robe and pulled it apart just enough to allow 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 the other side.
Mom’s hands switched too and I was soon watching her right tit. Whereas I had been
able to watch the other nipple grow, this one was already extended. 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 downstairs?
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 handed 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, reassured
by the sound of a flipping page, I pressed forward and applied my stiffness to 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 shoving
my cock up and down her soft behind. I lost myself in that and was on the third long
braid when I realized I hadn’t heard a page flip for a while. Anxiety welled up from
my stomach, spreading through my chest.
The snap of a light shutting off defied the laws of physics by arriving in my brain
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 situation.
“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. My
cock couldn’t stand it and started nudging mother’s cheeks again, but soon ramped
up to full fledged rubbing. Mom was rocking forward from my little shoves, her hands
grasping the edge of the counter to help steady herself. I had a hand on 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 answered
with a silent laugh, her face flushed, eyes burning and exuding excitement. I responded
with a series of quick, violent shoves into her behind accompanied by almost as exuberant
tugs on her braids.
I stopped, panting for breath, realizing I was getting carried away. I glanced toward
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 mirror, into Mom’s
eyes, I lost it.
She did something with her ass. It seemed to soften, relax and open, welcoming me.
I was enveloped, ensconced between her cheeks, even through the robe. If it was 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 couldn’t
resist and almost cried aloud when her nipples pierced my palms and I closed my fists
tightly over them. I sunk my teeth into the crook of her neck, hunched into her ass,
and adjusted my hands until her long nipples were poking out between 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 marks
I had left in her neck. I looked in the mirror, marveling at the way her nipples tried
to escape from my clutching fists. Mom’s hands released their grip on the counter
and grasped my hands, trying to pull them away. I relented and allowed her to pull
my hands off, freeing her tits which bounced down onto her chest.
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 skull. I pulled the robe
apart and around her shoulders, baring her entire front, and dropped it to the floor.
Mom was standing in front of me, stark naked, with me 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 wonderfully feminine
buttocks. Only the cotton of my pajamas marred the view. I stepped back 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 easily over her cheeks,
facilitated by the light oil I had been rubbing in her braids. I loved the curve of
her flesh and the rubbery resistance it offered to my roving palms but I reveled even
more in the surrender implied by the ease with which 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, trying 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 head
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 until
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 forward and pressed
my face into her ass, tongue extending, searching for the source of the musky smel
l
that now filled my nostrils. I found it.
I began lapping and licking between Mom’s cheeks, poking inside her slit, wiggling
my tongue around and around, then dragging it out and up her perineum, shoving 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 crossed 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 pussy,
pulling out for brief trips up to her asshole and a quick lick before returning to
her center. My fingers stretch up her inner thighs until their tips reached her pussy
lips, and pulled them apart so I could get my tongue deeper inside her, shaking face
wiggling my snake until her juices flowed over my tongue and prying fingers. Her cunt
began to quiver uncontrollably, having a seizure on my tongue, 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 pucker, and
I forced my tongue through her sphincter.
Well, she just exploded. Her ass quivered violently and her thighs shook in my arms,
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 she
finished her orgasm, toes holding her quivering legs as she leaned over the bathroom
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 strained 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 she 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 wrapped 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 my
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 started 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 noise
now. I was confident my father wouldn’t wake up, even without the pill. I wanted to
fuck my mom, hard. And I did. I made her body shake all over the mat, back and forth
with every shove, every thrust.
Despite my hard thrusts, I could feel her wonderful pussy all the way in, glorying
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 she couldn’t
avoid my frenetic onslaught, Mom fucked me back, gripping and releasing, clutching
my ramming shaft with her feminine muscle, like a snake working me inside a one-way
tunnel only to quickly reverse, expelling my intruder, then suck him in again.
Somehow she managed to bend her waist and cock her hip, swiveling her ass up toward
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 deep. When
my last squirting lunge was barely a twitch, Mom pushed back at me, twisting 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 room was silent except
for Dad’s gentle snore. I got up, pulled my pajamas on, turned 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 breakfast
when I stumbled into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Mom was a picture
of wholesome health but the girlish braids were unable to hide her underlying 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 fit 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 hiking boots with socks peeking just
an inch above.
“It’s about time you got up lazybones,” Mom greeted me cheerily. “I’ve been waiting
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 below
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 spending 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 lunch.”
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 door,
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 about
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?” he
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 Mom,
eyes on her sexy behind all the way. We passed a few people on the way, going up and
down, and two couples at the lookout. We hung around looking at the view until the
others left, which took about fifteen minutes. After Dad was sure they 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. Our
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 breasts. 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 bottle down and pulled
it away from her mouth, lifting one arm to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.
I continued admiring her front and she smiled at me. I wasn’t worried about Dad. His
head was out of sight behind Mom’s back but I was pretty sure his eyes were closed.
Disappointment welled up inside me again as I thought 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 was
quite mechanical but that changed when she looked up to see me watching her closely.
Then, she stretched one leg out, leaving the other with its foot curled underneath
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 movements 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 batted 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 blanket,
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 the lid and offered
the bottle again but Mom still ignored it. Changing my position 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 offered
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 surprised because I
had barely tipped the bottle and she could have easily handled what 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 her eyes,
and dropped it onto her wet thighs. The way Mom’s eyes smoldered, she could 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 gone.
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 fingertips 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 the 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 teased her for several
minutes, finding her groove and brushing my knuckles up and down 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 hand.
I forgave her for allowing my father to join us on our day. What a special mother,
to sit with her husband lying behind her with legs spread wide open, offering 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 was
left alone. But the disappointment was replaced with anticipation when my fingers
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 to 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 shoulder
pulling her back, down toward him. Awkwardly, Mom complied and was soon lying 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 in
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 first 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 hand was now
trapped my fingers were pressed against her warm spongy pussy. I couldn’t move my
hand but I could press my fingers and I did just that, pulsing them 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 could
understand her reaction. If he opened his eyes, we were done. I was my own behavior
that was amiss. Nevertheless, I continued and in a matter of minutes Mom’s glare softened
and was replaced by a glazed l
ook. In that moment her legs relaxed, loosening their
hold on my manipulating fingers. Immediately, I began to rub her pussy in longer strokes,
though still soft and gentle. Her legs opened wider.
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 hand reaching
under the bottom of her partly raised thigh to keep my pliant fingers pressed into
the ever deepening split dividing her mound. Confident in the knowledge of her acceptance,
I slipped my hand up to her waist and quickly unsnapped 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 hot and wet.
Dad’s arm straightened and flopped to the side, almost hitting me in the head. He
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 new position.
Mom didn’t resist when I turned her hips toward Dad, pushing her onto her side with
her bottom facing me. She was lying awkwardly on one hip but twisted with her back
still flat on the ground.
My hand slipped down from her hip, sliding over her bottom, cupping and caressing
her buttocks. Though a forbidden touch, it was platonic compared to the teasing scrapes
across the front of her shorts moments earlier. Mom relaxed as Dad’s breathing 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 bottom 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 swings, she
let her hand fall along the outside of her thigh where it stayed, emphasizing 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 hand back and slid
it back into place, but this time between her shorts and her bare ass and pussy.
“Ohhhhhhh,” Mom moaned aloud, then turned her face into the blanket. Her only protest
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, “Unnnngghhhhhhh.”
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 and 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 returned.