The Mother Memories Chapter 9
The beach party was long over and it had been five weeks since Lynn left for college.
She and I were the same age and, even though I wasn’t as smart as my sister, I had
managed to graduate. Nevertheless, there was no college education in store for me.
I had applied too late for the electrician program I wanted to do and now couldn’t
start until January so I was just working my weekend job plus three extra shifts through
the week. Mom hadn’t said anything more about that day in Lynn’s room but I could
sense tension whenever her name came up.
Though I didn’t expect it to be completely forgotten, I hoped the incident would fade
sufficiently that it would never need to be discussed. I did wonder what Mom had made
of it. Surely, she had figured out that Lynn had shown me her tits but did she think
more had happened? Did she think Lynn and I were actually doing it?
Sure, Lynn and I had always been close and hung out with a lot of the same friends,
but having sex together? Well, alright, I admit I had tried to cajole Lynn into showing
me her tits but was hoping to see more, maybe even getting her to bend over so I could
look at her awesome ass, but what teenager wouldn’t try with a sister that looked
like mine? I mean, except for smaller tits and a tighter ass, she was the spitting
image of Mom, just a younger version, and Mom was a nice looking woman. When my parents
hosted parties, it was obvious from a bystander point of view that most of the men
frequently checked Mom out.
A very nice looking woman indeed. My mind roved over my own personal memories of Mom’s
body. Actually, she wasn’t that old looking. Sure, her ass had more padding than Lynn’s
but it was still nice to look at and when she wore a dress, you could see that she
had great legs. Her hair was usually worn in an older-woman style but when she shook
it loose like she sometimes did at night with only family at home she looked much
younger and, now that I thought about it, kind of sexy.
I dropped out of my daydream and looked down at my hand which had slipped from resting
on my knee to inside my leg. Well, on my crotch, actually, cupping my balls. I shook
my head hard and jumped up.
Jesus fucking Christ, Ty. Get a fucking grip.
“Tyson. Dinner,” Mom yelled from the bottom of the stairs.
I started for my bedroom door but stopped to check that my prick, which was sending
happy signals to my brain, wasn’t swollen enough to cause embarrassment. It was noticeable
but nothing that couldn’t be addressed by the visions of hammers and anvils I flushed
through my brain as I descended the stairs.
After dinner, Mom did her crossword puzzles, as usual, while Dad alternated between
reading and glancing at the news channel. A perfectly normal night at our house. I
finished the magazine I was reading and shifted closer to look over Mom’s shoulder.
I didn’t have anything else to read downstairs and was too lazy to go up to my room
to get something.
Mom was almost finished a large puzzle. Only the bottom right corner remained. I leaned
closer, brushing up against her side, and she turned the book toward me a little so
I could read the clues, as if I would have half a clue what the answers would be.
I was hopeless at crosswords and Lynn wasn’t much better. Mom was an expert and tried
to get us to do them to expand our vocabulary but her message fell on deaf ears with
me and Lynn only filled in the easiest words in Mom’s puzzles which bugged Mom but
she didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to discourage her.
I started throwing out goofy suggestions as I usually did when I pitched in to help
Mom when she was stuck. There was no chance of me getting the right word but sometimes
my inane offerings triggered something in her mind and helped her finish.
Tonight wasn’t any different. At first, Mom openly laughed at my ideas but then they
started making her think and she ignored my further contributions as she turned the
earlier ones over in her mind. The hand holding the pencil waved me off but I leaned
closer as if proximity would improve the uptake of my ideas.
My thigh brushed the side of Mom’s as I moved closer and, thinking I needed room,
she leaned toward the corner of the couch but I followed, hanging my head over her
shoulder. As I did, my leg pressed more firmly into the underside of Mom’s thigh since
her leg had lifted from the couch as she leaned away from me. In fact, I was pressing
against Mom’s hip near the edge of her ass. Believe me, I hadn’t intended to do so,
it just happened.
“Aha,” she cried, filling in one of the longer empty spaces. Quickly, the remaining
holdouts were swept away as Mom’s mind, now renewed, sped through them as if a dam
had burst.
“There,” she said with a flourish. “We did it.”
Mom dropped the puzzle book into her lap and reached across with her left hand to
pick up her cold cup of tea. For a brief moment a gap opened between the back of her
thigh and mine. Again, through no conscious intention, I naturally moved closer and,
in fact, slid part way under Mom. The gap disappeared when Mom set the cup back onto
the saucer and sank back onto me.
“There,” she reiterated.
The puzzle book was retrieved and the page was turned, Mom’s face already showing
that she was ready for the next challenge but it soon turned to puzzlement and mine
to horror.
The next page revealed a puzzle that had already been partially completed but not
by the careful hand of my mother. This script was messy, it’s letters often violating
the line constraints quite unlike my mother’s fastidious completions. That wasn’t
the main problem, however. The real issue smacked me in the face far before it penetrated
Mom’s awareness with gentler probes, for there, in plain sight embedded within the
larger scrawls were three entries that I recognized. Therre were four letters across
and five down in the middle of the puzzle and another six written across the center
of the bottom : “tits”, “pussy”, and “showme”.
Mom stared at the puzzle. The muscles in her thigh pressing upon mine became tense
and my body became as rigid as hers. My mind reeled and sensations flitted throughout
my body, urging it to flee, but I couldn’t move though I so desperately wanted to
run.
Slowly, hesitantly, Mom’s fingers pulled the empty right page over to cover the left,
exposing a new set of virgin puzzles. We both stared at the blank page. Finally, Mom
dropped the book on her leg and reached across to pick up her empty tea cup, hand
shaking as she brought it to her lips. She savored the nonexistent brew for a long
moment before setting it carefully down. I could have escaped then but I didn’t. I
simply watched Mom take her extended, make-believe sip though I could clearly see
from my vantage point that the cup was empty, but I didn’t move. In fact, my body
even rolled toward Mom so when she sank back, my thigh was even further ensconced
underneath hers and the fleshy part of her buttock now pressed into my groin.
Mom started filling in the puzzle on the right side of the page, uncharacteristically
leaving the left one undone. Her fingers squiggled, moving the pencil rapidly up and
down the rows and columns as
she completed the easier clues so well known to her.
My eyes lifted from the page and gazed blankly toward my father who, at this particular
moment, was watching the TV, a book held open on his leg in his left hand. Would Mom
show him what he had found and explain its significance in light of her discovery
a few weeks ago?
I returned to watch Mom’s fingers drive the pencil across the page and suddenly became
uncomfortably conscious of the warmth of her thigh and the soft press of her buttock
. Somehow the thought of that pleasant feeling escaped my skull and dropped like a
stone to the source of the sensations, causing it to expand. With pure and utter horror,
my mind registered the tactile sensation of my burgeoning cock. It wasn’t swelling
sufficiently to be noticed, at least not yet or so I hoped, but it was growing none
the less. What had triggered this new feeling, at this awkward moment of all times?
Well, the memory of my sister’s tits, as they had accidently been presented to me
on that day, bracketed by the open yellow blouse, had suddenly surged into my consciousness.
STOP, my mind screamed. Stay still!
But it didn’t. I gritted my teeth and pictured a ring of large sweaty men in leather
harnesses laughing as they swung enormous hammers onto my swollen balls, stretched
over a large anvil next to a roaring fire. WHAM, WHAM, WHAM. Nothing, no effect whatsoever.
Instead, my cock shifted as it stiffened, seeking growing space like the little tyrant
it was.
Mom’s fingers stopped, frozen with the pencil in the middle of forming a “G” at the
begging of a word. Another uncontrolled flinch in response to a tingling sensation
I couldn’t ignore prompted Mom’s fingers into motion, grasping the near edge of the
page and pulling it over to the right, returning the book to the previous, unfinished,
messy puzzle. Staring at those words again — tits, pussy, showme — caused another
uninhibited flinch. My leg muscles tightened, already in receipt of the automatic
commands from my brain before my conscious mind was aware, preparing to flee. Reacting
to my own muscles before me, Mom’s hand slipped off the book and fell onto my tensed
leg, its grip silently commanding me to stay. Only when my muscles relaxed did Mom’s
hand release my leg and return to its former activity.
I stared helplessly at the words: tits, pussy, showme. The warmth of Mom’s body, the
fear of what was to come, the threatening presence of my father, even though I couldn’t
tear my eyes away to see if he had noticed the tension on the couch — all these things
impinged on my senses but none could stop another forbidden flinch.
The pencil moved to a position under “showme”. It scribbled: “leave her alone.”
For the first time since I had started helping Mom with the puzzles, she turned to
look at me. I nodded, slowly, in solemn affirmation. Mom nodded in return and turned
back to the puzzle. I started to get up but Mom stopped me with a brief grip on my
leg and the tension in my muscles abated. The page was turned and Mom began filling
in the crossword again.
I alternated between watching Mom and looking at Dad but mostly I focused on Mom.
I didn’t just watch her fingers scribble over the puzzle; I noticed how slender and
feminine they were. I admired the crook of her neck where it wasn’t covered by the
hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her throat pulsed gently with her breathing
and my eyes descended until they registered the valley between the slight swells that
yielded the first hints of the fruit filling the blouse below. My eyes explored further,
past the first unsecured button and then the next where the bursting fullness confirmed
that here sat a mature woman and not a mere girl.
Mom made a mistake, a rare event. She reversed the pencil and rubbed the tip across
the page. It was a long word. Mom pressed the book tightly against her leg as she
scrubbed the errant letters away, shaking the book and her leg, and mine below. Her
bottom, by the laws of physics, wriggled, shooting blazing stars through my groin.
I stifled a groan as my cock stiffened into full hardness, stretching into the remaining
space in my jeans and bending outward when that was filled.
I knew my swollen member was pressing into the black material of Mom’s stretchy pants
but there was nothing I could do. The letters were gone but Mom continued scrubbing.
Finally, she stopped and, after a brief pause, pencilled in a new word and sighed
in satisfaction as it meshed with several others crossing its path.
Mom continued with the puzzle. I had hoped my erection would subside but it didn’t.
It was as rigid as ever but Mom paid it no notice that I could detect even though
she must have felt its presence. She didn’t lift her soft buttock or acknowledge its
impudent presence in any way.
Twice more, Mom made mistakes. This was unprecedented. Mom never made mistakes and
she had made three on this puzzle alone, all on longer words. The prolonged scrubbing
to remove the offending marks didn’t help my mental attempts to quell my swollen cock.
Quite the opposite. I was now beyond worrying about its growth, or the rude announcement
of its presence. There was nothing more it could do to attract additional attention
except rub itself into Mom’s bum but that ability was beyond its control. That could
only happen if I allowed it.
Despite myself, I did shift my weight a couple of times. They were small, involuntary
movements but they increased the tingling sensations in my cock almost beyond control.
Mom still didn’t react but a short time after the second one, she finished the puzzle
and pulled the page back to reveal the previous one again. She stared at the offensive
words for half a minute before writing below her own words, “leave her alone”, adding
“PROMISE” in capital letters in an empty seven-letter slot. She turned to look at
me and I nodded immediately. The puzzle was covered again.
“Well,” Mom said, drawing Dad’s attention. “Your sister will be home in a few weeks.
We’ll have to plan a proper reception for her.”
“She’s just left,” Dad said, seemingly annoyed at the interruption. “What brought
that on?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was just thinking about her and hoping everything is going well.
I just want everything to be perfect for her when she comes home. It must be so stressful
going to college and I want her time at home to be as relaxing as it can be.”
The last phrase was stated with added emphasis. Mom turned and fixed me with a steady,
firm gaze. I nodded, feeling uncomfortable and seeking relief from her attention.
“I suppose so,” Dad mumbled, already returning to his book though I think he’d been
watching TV when Mom spoke. None of us had been to college so we had no idea what
it was like there.
Mom moved to get up and I pulled back to make room. She put her hand on my leg to
help herself up. I might have been imagining things but I think she squeezed it more
than necessary to lift herself up.
That night in bed I relived Mom’s discovery of those incriminating words and the subsequent
press of her thighs and bottom against my leg, over and over. I hadn’t meant to jack
off but the press of my palm along the length of my dick soon made me tur
n on my side
so I could stroke it properly. I also didn’t mean to come but couldn’t stop as I beat
my cock faster and faster, imagining that Mom had pushed her backside onto me on purpose.
She couldn’t be offering me an alternative to my sister, could she? In the frenzy
leading up to my orgasm, I was sure of it but in the cold reality of the aftermath
while i was cleaning up my mess, I knew it was too good to be true.
Reality offered the more truthful portent of the world. The next day, Mom’s interaction
with me was outwardly no different than any other day but I felt a distinct distance
between us that wasn’t normally there. I was hurt at first but then became angry.
When my parents took up their usual respective evening positions, he reading and her
doing crosswords, I initially responded in my own typical fashion: I repaired to my
room to waste hours on shoot-em-up computer games. However, I couldn’t keep focused
and kept getting easily killed rather than winning. After less than an hour of play,
I wandered downstairs, frustrated and angry, already dressed in my pyjamas and house
coat.
Neither parent looked up when I entered the living room. I looked at them for a long
moment, then turned into the kitchen where I waited for the kettle to boil. Patiently,
I watched the tea pot steep, thinking about nothing in particular but aware that my
unconscious mind was planning something. I just couldn’t grasp what it was.
Mom looked up when I set a cup of tea down on the end table beside her but Dad didn’t
even notice his. I returned for my own mug and sat on the couch near Mom but not right
beside her. She was wearing a similar outfit to the one she’d worn the day before:
black stretchy pants and a white blouse. Looking at her, I realized Mom was kind of
chic in a simplistic bohemian way. She had one foot resting on the coffee table and
the opposite leg crossed over the knee of the first, foot dangling and toes tapping
to some silent tune. She hadn’t even thanked me for the tea.
At some point during my observation, I realized that Mom was aware of my perusal but
acting as if she wasn’t. How I knew that, I can’t explain but more interesting to
me was , why? I let my eyes rove over her body, from head to toe, or more to the point,
from chest and along her shanks to her knees, and back again. It wasn’t the tenseness
I sensed in her limbs that signaled her secret discomfort but rather the almost unobservable
twitches in her face. Mom was expecting something from me and she was nervous about
it.
“How’s the crossword going?” I asked, quietly, so as not to rouse Dad’s attention.
Mom nodded, as if to say Ok, but didn’t speak.
“I thought the tea might help,” I said, hoping to make her feel just a little bit
obligated to me.
Mom nodded again but curtly as if to say thanks but don’t bother me now, I’m busy.
I picked up my mug and took a sip. Carefully, I set it down on the coffee table near
Mom’s foot more than a foot closer to her than I currently sat. I shifted towards
her on the couch.
“Is it a hard one?” I asked, peering at the book.
Mom nodded, tensely.
“Really hard,” I persisted, moving even closer.
Mom shook her head slightly, grimacing in concentration.
“That hard?” I commented, closing the last few inches between us and bringing my housecoat
into contact with Mom’s stretchy pants. Her face twitched and the letter she was completing
strayed outside it’s little square.
“Why don’t you take a tea break? It might help.”
Mom didn’t answer but a minute later, she reached over with her left hand to pick
up her tea. I experienced a heartfelt appreciation of the fact that Mom was a south
paw. Reaching across her right leg with her left hand to pick up her tea lifted the
left off the couch, allowing me to snuggle close like I had the day before.
“Tyson. Leave me some room,” Mom chided me.
“I’m just trying to see what you’re doing,” I said.
Mom sipped her tea, then set the cup down and returned to her puzzle. I watched her
fill in a few words, then leaned across her to pick up her spare pencil from the end
table.
“Tyson,” she complained.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
Mom completed two more words, then appeared to be stuck. I moved the tip of my pencil
toward the puzzle but she pushed it away. I tried twice more and was rebuffed both
times, the last time verbally.
“Stop it,” Mom cried.
Dad looked up then and smiled. He seemed to discover his tea for the first time and
picked it up, draining it in one long gulp before returning to his book.
I moved the pencil toward the crossword but stopped when Mom’s right hand moved up,
preparing to block mine. I hovered for a moment, then withdrew. About to move forward
again, I suddenly changed my mind and flipped the pencil end for end. The eraser now
pointed at the book.
“Don’t you dare,” Mom warned, obviously thinking I was going to try to erase one of
her entries.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I laughed.
Nor would I have ever dreamed that I would do what I did next. I moved the pencil,
but sideways instead of forward, until it bumped against the side of Mom’s breast.
There was a pregnant pause as both Mom and I reacted to what I’d done. Or, I should
say, failed to react. I kept the eraser pressed against the side of Mom’s breast,
fascinated by the way it actually moved as she breathed, and Mom just sat, rigidly
unmoving, her face still. Neither of us knew what to do next.
It could have been an accident. Was she waiting for me to acknowledge it as such,
to say… sorry, or just pull it away?
In defiance of all logic, I moved the pencil, but not away. Instead, I moved it down,
along the curve of Mom’s breast, stopped, then dragged it up to its original point
of contact and even above, still in contact with Mom’s mammary. Mom glanced at Dad
and I quickly shot a look at him as well. Then, the unimaginable happened. Mom raised
the crossword book up so it almost stood on her crossed leg, blocking the line of
sight from Dad to the tip of my pencil. Mom’s own pencil once again contacted the
page and another blank space became a word.
I rubbed the pencil up and down the side of Mom’s breast, almost cheekily, like a
spoiled kid announcing to his minder that he knew he was doing something wrong and
was enjoying it all the more because he was getting away with it. Mom filled in two
more words while the eraser fully explored the side of her blouse, at least the part
that swelled nicely. After that, she pushed the pencil away.
I picked up my mug, took a swig of tea, and asked, “So, exactly when is Lynn coming
home?”
My question hung in the air, orphaned for several long seconds until Mom responded,
tersely, “Two weeks from this Saturday.”
“Oh,” I said. “That soon?”
“Yes,” Mom’s response was even more curt.
I set my cup down, but this time on the end table beside Mom, leaning over her to
do so. When I settled back, I moved the eraser back onto Mom’s left breast and allowed
it to play along its curvature, even venturing toward the front. I dropped the pencil
beneath Mo
m’s breast, pushed it toward her and lifted her breast with it, allowing
it to skid outward until the weight of Mom’s breast pushed it away and bounced back
to her chest. Fantastic.
When Mom tried to push the pencil away, I parried with words.
“I’m looking forward to seeing her.”
Mom wrote in the book and jabbed her script. ‘NO.’
I pushed my pencil toward the crossword and this time Mom didn’t try to stop me.
‘Then?’ I wrote, in the first available four-letter space.
I returned my pencil to the top of Mom’s breast, resting it there, waiting. Mom pointedly
avoided looking at me but slowly returned her pencil to the book and wrote in another
entry. It was the proper answer to the clue. She was doing the puzzle again.
I let the pencil lightly follow the slope of Mom’s breast out until it fell over its
edge. I kept it close to her breast, tracing its outline, feeling the excitement in
my loins grow as it passed over the point where I knew her nipple must lie underneath
the bra. I played that pencil over Mom’s breast constantly, up and down, until she
finished the puzzle. She started to close the book.
“Do another one, Mom,” I suggested, but we both knew it was more than a suggestion.
I was actually surprised when Mom complied. By the time she was two thirds through,
my pencil was rubbing all over her right breast too. By then, I had convinced myself
that my tightly controlled but excited breath was matched once or twice by Mom’s own.
Perhaps I strayed too far when I tried, successfully, to push the top button of Mom’s
blouse through its hole, for the second it popped through, Mom snapped the book shut
and stood up.
“That’s enough,” she cried sharply, then belatedly added, “for one night.”
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I was exhilarated. It took me hours to get to sleep that night, even after I had emptied
my balls. My poor cock was sore, I beat it so much. I fell asleep dreaming of my pencil
rubbing up and down Mom’s bare tits, flicking her nipples while Mom whispered to me,
“Suck them, Ty.”
I predicted that Mom wouldn’t have a second pencil the next night. I knew she would
do her crosswords. Otherwise, Dad would say something, but I knew there wouldn’t be
a spare pencil. Mom wasn’t surprised when I snuggled up close to her and seemed to
welcome me. She even thanked me for the tea that I brought.
“Are you going to help me again tonight?” she asked, smiling pleasantly.
“Every night, Mom. I love helping you do your crosswords.”
Our banter was lost on Dad. His attention remained fixed on his book.
Mom seemed smugly pleased and I think she could hardly wait for my discovery of the
missing pencil but her faint smile disappeared when I produced one of the pencils
I had shoved in the pocket of my housecoat before coming downstairs. I immediately
moved it onto Mom’s breast and, resigned, she raised her book to block my nefarious
activity.
I had been rubbing the pencil over her glorious breasts for almost ten minutes before
I realized Mom’s blouse didn’t have buttons I could push undone. She was wearing a
thin turtleneck sweater which I didn’t notice until I moved the eraser between her
upper breasts in search of a button. The faint smile returned to Mom’s face.
She seemed almost eager for me to continue rubbing the pencil over her breasts after
that, as if to rub it into my face that I may have outsmarted her with my pencil stash
but she had bested me with the removal of the ‘gates’ to her bare breasts. That smile
stayed on Mom’s face as my anger led me to scrub the pencil over her breasts.
That roughness accidentally led me to my next victory. The eraser, because of how
firmly I was scraping it over Mom’s tit, dug into the bra underneath her thin sweater,
and pushed it a ways down her breast before the pencil snapped over the top of the
bra. The importance of that didn’t immediately dawn on me but several passes later,
I purposely dug the eraser into the bra and pushed, keeping the pencil tight to Mom’s
tit. The tip dug in, between the bra and Mom’s flesh, out to the crest where I pried
it outward. At the same time, I found the strap on Mom’s shoulder under the sweater
and pulled it over as the pencil lifted the bra over Mom’s nipple and off her breast.
Mom’s smile disappeared and a replacement grew on my face. The bra collapsed underneath
Mom’s breast which bounced freely under her thin sweater, the nipple now advertising
its presence. Quickly, I pushed the pencil across to Mom’s other breast and, in concert
with my hand behind her shoulders, relieved it of its covering too. The bra now encircled
Mom’s waist below her breasts, leaving them free except for the inadequate covering
of the thin sweater.
The pencil now traced the outline of Mom’s breasts more accurately, and lovingly.
I was surprised that Mom didn’t jump up immediately and walk away but that would draw
attention to herself and perhaps require an explanation for the way her breasts jostled
loosely under her sweater. When I realized that, I knew that Mom was stuck. I slowed
the pencil down and lightened its touch, teaching it to caress rather than probe,
to titillate instead of poke.
Mom’s pencil returned to the crossword and mine lovingly traced every curve, every
nook and every cranny of her breasts. It favored the left breast because of its proximity
but found every part of the right as well. When Mom completed the last entry, I had
been teasing her nipples for several minutes and they proudly marked their places
beneath the white turtleneck. Mom’s hand dropped to her lap, pencil held loosely between
her fingers. She sat, listlessly, while I languidly traced the eraser around her nipples.
Her eyes closed.
Dad’s snore made both of us jump. We stared at him, realizing that we had both dangerously
forgotten about his presence. I looked at Mom and she, for the first time, looked
steadily back at me. I dropped the pencil and enveloped her left tit in my hand, gently
squeezing until my finger and thumb found the outskirts of her nipple, pinched and
rolled it, then tugged it off Mom’s chest, forcing Mom’s mouth open in a silent cry.
I lowered my head as Dad’s snoring resumed its rolling lilt. Mom shook her head, her
eyes saying ‘No’ but I ignored both and brought my lips to hers. She let me kiss her
but refused to part her lips for my probing tongue. I pulled back and tried to pull
Mom’s sweater up but it remained tightly tucked in her slacks; it must have been one
of those things that wrapped around and snapped under her panties. I grasped her tit
again and rolled the nipple between my fingers, tugging it up and letting it fall
half a dozen times, like a little kid with his newest toy. I moved my mouth toward
Mom again but she turned her face away so I redirected my head and latched onto her
extended nipple, sucking it in with a mouthful of sweater. Surprised, Mom groaned
quietly. I sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until Mom’s hands pried my head away. She
pushed me aside and got up. She was passing in front of Dad, loose and jostling tits
be damned, when he awoke with a start.
“I’m going to bed,” Mom snapped in response to his querying look as she rushed by.
Mom worked the next day and I wasn’t able to be alone with her until Dad went to wash
his hands before supper. As soon as he left, Mom accosted me.
“That was a stupid thing you did last night with your father right there,” she said,
eyes flashing her anger. “I know your sister’s been showing off her breasts and you
want more, to touch them, but I won’t have it, any of it!” She paused to take a dep
breath, then continued in a softer tone, I’ll let you touch mine instead, but don’t
you ever do anything stupid like that in front of your father again, understand?”
“Yes, Mom. I won’t,” I responded immediately, suitably chastised.
She may have been angry but I knew that she had been excited last night. I knew she
wanted me to kiss her even though she acted like she didn’t want me to. Maybe, if
Dad hadn’t been there, she would have let me go further but I knew if Dad hadn’t been
there to mute her reaction, I never would have got as far as I did in the first place.
It was a different supper that night. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Mom. She looked
sexy even in her conservative work suit. Mom knew I was looking and that I was looking
at her not as a mother but as a woman. She also knew I was looking at her breasts,
imagining them without the cover of clothes, imagining myself touching them, like
I had last night. Did she know I wanted more than that, that I dreamed of fucking
her?
That night, I cleaned up after dinner myself. I wouldn’t let Mom in the kitchen. When
I was finished I went upstairs and returned much later, after relieving myself in
more ways than one in the toilet bowl. My late return was according to the plan I’d
developed that afternoon, to arrive and let the games begin after Dad had rested for
awhile, in the hopes that he would fall asleep again.
Mom was still wearing her business suit. I was disappointed, hoping that after her
words with me before supper that she would change into something more accessible.
I guess she had meant what she said about not doing anything in front of Dad. I was
pissed off.
I sat down near Mom and picked up a magazine, supposedly ignoring her. Dad was reading
but I could see he was already beginning to nod off. My resistance waned and I slid
over closer to Mom. She smiled.
“Where’s your pencil? You can’t help me if you don’t have a pencil.”
Her smile made me suspicious. Had she removed my pencil stash earlier in the day?
I reached into the pocket of my housecoat and dragged out the only one there. It wasn’t
one of the ones I’d put in my stash. It was an unsharpened carpenter’s pencil, almost
a quarter of an inch thick and half an inch wide. What had happened to the handful
I’d put in there yesterday?
“You can’t use that on my crosswords,” Mom laughed.
She thought she had me and maybe she had. I let the pencil tap against the side of
her suit jacket. This wasn’t going to be any fun.
“Aren’t you hot in that jacket?” I asked in a thinly veiled suggestion to make her
breasts more available.
“No,” Mom’s smile briefly turned up in greater amusement but then returned to its
original, nearly straight line.
I let the pencil fall away, resting it on her leg, and watched Mom fill in the crossword.
She worked steadily, passing over clues that she couldn’t do immediately but returning
to them after a few more words had been completed. I tapped her skirt absently.
“Do you have to do that?” Mom asked.
“What? This?” I tapped her leg harder.
“Yes, that,” Mom responded, annoyed.
“Yes,” I retorted.
Mom quietly harrumphed. I looked at Dad and saw that his head was hanging over and
he had slumped back in his chair. I moved the pencil across Mom’s skirt, tapping as
I went. It made a more hollow drumming sound as I moved onto the material stretched
over the gap between her thighs, then softened to a duller thud when I reached the
right leg. I tapped my way back again and noticed with perverse pleasure the tightening
of Mom’s jaw.
The tapping slowed as a thought slowly formed in my mind. Tap, tap, tap, tap… tap…
tap… tap… tap.
Mom was about to speak, presumably to tell me that I was being extremely annoying
when I suddenly stopped. Mom smiled and nodded her satisfaction. A few seconds later,
I slid the pencil forward onto her bare leg and pushed it slowly along the top of
her thigh to her knee, transferred to the other leg and dragged the eraser back along
that thigh. Mom sighed, but I could tell she would rather put up with this new nuisance
than the annoying drumming on her skirt.
Mom continued to fill in the crossword in grim silence, Dad resumed breathing steadily,
and I traced the length of Mom’s thighs, up one leg and back the other, sometimes
switching direction on each leg. Though it was hardly noticeable, I let the pencil’s
path fall gradually toward the center of Mom’s legs so that I was pushing and dragging
the eraser along her inner thighs. Mom seemed ok with this which may be why I became
bored with it. I decided to push the envelope a little more.
For the hundredth time I dragged the pencil back to the hem of Mom’s skirt but this
time I ‘accidently’ dropped it between her legs. The eraser end fell to the couch
between the more open end of Mom’s legs near her knees but the other, as yet unsharpened
tip lodged between the meaty part of Mom’s thighs, leaving the pencil on an upward
angle of about thirty degrees or so. I rooted around between Mom’s legs fumbling the
pencil as I tried to pick it up. With each ‘fumble’, Mom’s legs gave way a little
as my hand twisted about. I finally managed to regain my grip on the pencil but at
the eraser end near Mom’s knees.
The pencil resumed its exploration but it now ventured under Mom’s skirt, sliding
up the inside of her legs until it jammed between the fleshy part of her upper thighs.
Mom was momentarily startled and so, in fact, was I, by the sheer brazenness of my
act. I wasn’t sure how this would go over or what to do now that the pencil was stuck
in the thickness of Mom’s inner thighs.
Mom glanced at Dad. I did too. He wasn’t snoring but his he was breathing more heavily
and his eyes were still closed. Nevertheless, I was afraid because he could open his
eyes at any moment and start reading again. Surprisingly, Mom looked back at her puzzle
as if nothing was amiss. I stared at the book and her motionless hands, at a loss
of what to do next, my courage failing me.
Dad snorted and his eyes opened. He shook his head and began to read as if he had
never been dozing. Mom lifted the crossword book and set it down on her legs in front
of my hand, the one holding the pencil. I took this as a sign and pulled the pencil
back, away from Mom’s knees. It wiggled it between her legs but she trapped it before
it got very far and cast a wary eye at Dad. I remembered Mom’s warning not to do anything
stupid again in front of Dad but kept wiggling the pencil anyway, just to be a nuisance
if nothing else; I don’t know why. Mom casually filled in another word, ignoring me,
as if she was above my annoying behavior.
I felt I had won something and now wiggled the pencil with a vengeance, twisting it
this way and that. The unsharpened end was not as soft as the eraser end and Mom’s
legs mom
entarily gave way with each new foray. I found that if I held the pencil flat,
Mom’s legs would yield more to its width and that quickly snapping it vertical to
make it thinner would allow it to slide even further between her thighs. After only
a dozen such advances the pencil was quite far under Mom’s skirt and I had dragged
the hem back quite a ways to let my hand keep up with the pencil’s advance. It suddenly
struck me that the pencil must be almost touching Mom’s panties which triggered another
realization. Mom’s legs hadn’t been squeezing very tightly to impede the pencil’s
progress. I stilled my hand and, in reaction, Mom’s legs tensed around the pencil,
but then slowly relaxed when it didn’t move.
Dad made a sound and both our heads snapped up to look at him.
It was a snore. His head leaned to one side, our side. If he opened his eyes now,
he would be looking directly at us.
Together, we watched Dad for at least a minute. We were absolutely still. Then, I
moved the pencil the tiniest bit. My breath caught when I realized that Mom’s legs
didn’t try to stop it, not even a single clench. I pushed it a little more and still
encountered no resistance. A little more. I looked down at Mom’s skirt to see it bunching
up behind my hand as I dragged the pencil even further back. Resistance completely
disappeared and I realized the pencil must have reached the open triangle at the crux
of Mom’s thighs, directly in front of her panties. I twisted the pencil so the flat
part would face down and pushed. It collided with Mom’s panties in a silent thud that
reverberated up my arm.
I turned to look at Mom. She was staring at Dad, her mouth open with a strange, strained
look on her face. I pushed the pencil back and forth, skidding its flat side over
the gusset of Mom’s panties, trying to exert a firm pressure. Mom’s mouth opened more
but though her expression intensified, no sound spilled forth.
Back and forth, back and forth, I rubbed that heavy carpenter’s pencil. Mom seemed
to be paralyzed, incapable of motion and quite unable to stop me. I could even feel
her pushing against the pencil now as I scraped it across her panties. Oh yeah, there
was no doubt, she was horny, real horny. I wanted to turn to her, to shove her skirt
up and get my fingers inside her panties and into her cunt but I knew I couldn’t.
If Dad woke up, everything would be ruined. Right now, he might be taken aback by
Mom’s strange expression, but the crossword book still blocked his view of my hand
and the pencil, and my posture sitting beside Mom made it look like I was simply helping
her with the crossword puzzle. That would all be changed if I turned toward Mom so
no matter how much she looked like she would let me, I couldn’t do it.
I stopped moving the pencil and Mom’s hand dropped onto mine, as if to urge it back
into motion, but it didn’t. Her limp fingers felt soft and feminine on the back of
mine. I pulled the end of the pencil up, lifting Mom’s skirt, and twisted it so the
thin edge was toward Mom’s panties. Immediately, I felt it nudge into a soft and yielding
groove that somehow felt damp though I knew I couldn’t really sense that. I wiggled
the pencil and Mom’s hand left mine to cover her mouth. Abruptly, I jiggled the pencil
up and down, working it into her pantied slit, surprising her so completely her hand
closed tightly around her mouth to stifle the moan that threatened to rip out of her
throat.
Dad snored loudly, caught his breath and snored again, then twisted his head away
from us. I could see his eyes open as his head turned and fear made me jerk my hand
and the pencil out of Mom’s skirt. Mom leapt to her feet and barked that she was going
to bed as she hurried on unsteady feet in front of my still not-really-awake father.
I grabbed the crossword book and gathered my housecoat about me, pulling my knees
up and lowering the book to hide my enormous erection.
“I think I dozed off,” Dad said, shaking his head and looking at me. “Has your mother
gone to bed?”
“Yeah,” I croaked. It was all I could manage. When I did manage to escape, I half
ran up the stairs, my cock getting even harder as I realized the tip of the pencil
was indeed damp.
Something told me to avoid Mom the next day so after supper, I didn’t join her on
the couch, even to sit at the far end. Her abrupt departure signaled that I had perhaps
transgressed a boundary. If I stayed away and let things settle down maybe I could
take up where I had left off. Why, oh why, had I done that fool thing with the pencil?
What had come over me? Mom was clearly upset. At breakfast and dinner her whole body
tensed up when she had to interact with me, which she kept to a minimum. So I decided
to stay away and let it blow over.
I was completely immersed in a game when my mind suddenly filled with dread at the
thought of Mom coming up to my room to confront me about my behavior the previous
night. Wihtout Dad nearby, Mom wouldn’t be restrained and a fight now could ruin everything.
I quit the game and got up, searching for a book, anything that I could pretend to
read downstairs until Mom went to bed. That’s when the message came through. Lynn
was Skyping me.
“Hey bro.”
Lynn looked fantastic in a man’s open-neck t-shirt that clung tightly to her breasts.
In the background, I could see her roommate. I couldn’t remember her name but in red
bra and panties, who could give a shit? Lynn noticed the direction of my gaze.
“I’m right here, bro.”
I blushed and looked back at Lynn.
“So what’s been happening on the home front?”
“Nothing. Same old, same old.”
Lynn was happy with my expected brief response and quickly launched into a recap of
her adventures which was probably what she’d called about anyway. My attention wandered
to her roommate’s body, flitting about in the background, evidently in the process
of getting dressed but somehow managing to remain in just bra and panties. Not that
I minded. Her body was just as nice as Lynn’s. More streamlined, but nice.
When I had sat down, I had closed my housecoat tight but as I listened to Lynn and
watched her roommate, I began tenting uncomfortably in my shorts. I shifted the chair
closer to the computer to hide what I was doing and pushed the waistband of my underwear
down to free my painfully bent cock. I knew the webcam didn’t show anything below
my chest but I wanted to be certain. As Lynn talked, I absently fiddled with my cock
and eventually starting stroking it. The thrust of her tits under the t-shirt and
her roommates body prancing around filled my head with lecherous thoughts that I couldn’t
ignore. I was feeling pretty smug knowing I was wanking off in front of them and getting
away with it. It really added a delicious twist.
“So, I was wondering, Ty.”
Here is comes, I thought. The real reason for her call.
“Tessa’s coming home with me for the fall break.”
Lynn paused to let that sink in, half turning around in a stretching twist that arched
her tits hard enough against the t-shirt to make it obvious she wasn’t wearing anything
underneath.
“You’re coming, aren’t you Tessa?”
Tessa turned her pretty face briefly toward the computer to nod enthusiastically.
The whole movement was d
esigned to call attention to Tessa’s body which was at that
moment facing away from the computer and bent over, providing a magnificent view of
Tessa’s ass, or should I say, a view of Tessa’s magnificent ass.
“So, you can let me use your car for the week, can’t you, to show Tessa around?”
There it was. Slid in with her usual precision at exactly the right moment. My sister,
the master manipulator. Lynn had turned back to catch me red-handed, gawking at Tessa’s
fabulous ass.
“You will, won’t you?” Lynn purred.
I was nodding my head already, of course, though my answer hadn’t yet fully formed
in my mind.
“Of course,” I finally managed to squeak.
That’s when my door opened and Mom walked in. Lynn quickly moved her shoulders to
the left to block the view of Tessa’s ass and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Mom!” she cried, in glee.
I, of course was frozen in my chair, except that my head had automatically moved to
the right in an obvious effort to see past Lynn for a last glimpse of Tessa’s finely
sculptured posterior. Tessa, bless her soul, wasn’t much faster than I.
“Hi darling. How are you?” Then, impatiently to me, “Tyson, why didn’t you call me?”
Mom was pulling my extra chair over from the wall which thankfully gave me time to
realize my cock was sticking up through my housecoat. As she pushed the chair against
mine, I managed to cover myself in the motion of rising to move my own chair to make
room for hers. The housecoat pulled tightly around myself, I was neverthelessl acutely
conscious of the fact that my cock was still sticking out of my shorts. Shit!
Mom and Lynn launched into an animated exchange quite unlike their normal interactions
at home. I guess they really did miss each other. I kept still, relieved that I was
able to cover myself but painfully aware that under the housecoat, my cock still protruded
from my underwear. I couldn’t very well slip my hand inside my robe to fix it and
it simply wouldn’t soften up. Maybe it was because I got off on the fear of discovery
— after all, my housecoat could fall open if I wasn’t vigilant — or maybe it was because,
with Mom and Lynn yacking excitedly, I was free to watch Tessa who still cavorted
about in the background. Whatever the reason, I had a very hard cock under my robe.
“Yeah, so Ty’s going to let me use his car to show Tessa around,” Lynn announced.
“Really?” Mom responded, glancing at lanky Tessa who was once again bending over to
get something out of a drawer. She looked back at Lynn. “So I guess you won’t be around
the house much, then?”
“Well, I really want to show Tessa around,” Lynn said, apologetically, “and we’re
going to sleep over at Laura’s a couple of nights so she can meet the rest of the
girls.”
Tessa’s butt was wiggling around in the red panties as she searched for something
in the drawer, the muscles in her legs straining with the effort. I gawked when her
cheeks alternately tensed as her butt swayed about. Lynn was oblivious but Mom noticed
and I think she also noticed something else: my robe had slipped off my legs, leaving
my shorts exposed, with my cock sticking up past the waistband. My immediate urge
was to recover the robe to cover myself but I didn’t want to make a sudden move in
case I was wrong about Mom noticing. I slid my hands down to grasp the edges of my
robe but Mom stopped me by setting her hand squarely on me, her palm covering the
part of me that extended out of my shorts . She kept her eyes fixed on Lynn.
“Well,” Mom said, “I guess Tyson and I will have to amuse ourselves, then.”
I felt a light downward pressure on my dick.
“I’m sorry, Mom. We’ll try to be home as much as we can.”
“No, no. That’s alright. You girls have your fun. I know you need to let off some
steam. Tyson can keep me company. God knows your father won’t.”
There was a definite squeeze and it felt like my cock grew a whole inch out of my
shorts.
“How is Dad?” Lynn asked.
“Oh, you know your father.”
Mom told Lynn about some of the things Dad had recently done to annoy her. As she
talked, Mom massaged my cock with gentle squeezes. She did it offhandedly without
compromising her expression and without any hesitation in her speech. At one point,
the conversation became more animated and Mom’s fingers curled around my shaft and
began stroking it. Her fingers stretched inside my shorts but her palm continued massaging
the underside of my tip, mashing the helmet against my stomach. Unlike Mom, I struggled
to maintain my composure.
“Is something wrong, Ty?” Lynn asked.
“What?” I asked, startled, certain my face wore a guilty look. “No, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look very well.”
“I’m fine. My stomach’s a little upset, that’s all.”
“You can go. I don’t mind,” Lynn said.
Mom turned and, for the first time, looked down at me. She lifted her hand and patted
my stomach.
“I think he’s alright,” she said, then turned back to Lynn, resuming their conversation
where it had left off.
Mom’s hand dropped onto my cock again and reached far enough into my shorts that her
fingers could grasp my balls which she started squeezing with steadily increasing,
pulsing pressure.
“Ty, you really don’t look well,” Lynn cried.
Mom’s grip was getting painful but she released me when Lynn spoke.
“Yeah, I think I’d better go,” I mumbled, turning and almost falling off my chair
so I didn’t expose myself as I stood up. I stumbled to the door and exited the room,
my cock waving about over the waistband of my shorts which was stretched underneath
my balls. I ran awkwardly for the bathroom , my hand already starting to stroke my
cock. My aching balls need release, fast!
I was cleaning myself up when Mom paused by the partially open bathroom door that
in my haste I had forgotten to close.
“Two can play hardball, you know.”
She was gone before I could speak.
What the fuck had happened? Mom had just calmy jacked me off in front of my sister.
Her comment made it sound like it was punishment for the night before but she had
still taken my cock in her hand. I just wanted to look at and feel her tits and she
was willing to hold my cock? I realized now that I’d been playing a game with Mom
and I had no idea how big the playing field was. I could hardly wait to get home from
my stupid job the next day. I desperately needed to be with Mom, without Dad around.
I waited until later in the evening before going downstairs. I sat a ways from Mom,
leafing disinterestedly through a magazine. She glanced at me a couple of times but
I remained aloof until she patted the couch beside her and invited me to help her
with her crossword. I declined.
“Suit yourself,” she said nonchalantly but sounding a little miffed.
Quite a while later, Mom spoke quietly to Dad, “Gary, why don’t you go up to bed.
You’re falling asleep.”
Dad shook his head and looked bleary-eyed at Mom. “Am I?”
“Yes,” Mom said.
“I s
uppose I should hit the sack, then.” Dad got up and looked at Mom. “Are you coming?”
“After I finish this crossword,” Mom replied.
Dad stumbled over to Mom, leaned over, and gave her a kiss. “I’ll wait up for you,”
he said.
“Alright, dear.”
Mom continued her crossword after Dad left and I kept pretending to read my magazine.
It was kind of ridiculous, really. Finally, Mom looked at me.
“Come over here. You know you want to.”
I declined again.
“I’ll let you see them if you like.”
“No, it’s ok.”
“I know you lent your car to Lynn so she would be out of the house, removing temptation,
so to speak. I appreciate that. If you come over here, I’ll let you touch them.”
I remained silent. After that offer, I have no idea why.
“Suit yourself,” Mom said in a minor huff and returned to her puzzle.
I put my magazine down. If we were going to play games, I was going to go for it.
I wasn’t going to settle for just touching up her tits. I opened my robe. I was naked
underneath and my cock sprang to attention. I held it loosely with my fingers at the
base, keeping it straight upright. It took Mom a moment to notice.
“Good God, Tyson,” she cried. “Put it away.”
I shook my head and smiled arrogantly.
“You don’t really think just because I touched it I can’t do without it, do you?”
“No,” I stammered, shocked by the accuracy of her assessment.
“Women don’t go gaga just because they touched a man’s cock. At least, not outside
porn movies,” Mom laughed.
The only good part about the direction this was taking was Mom referring to my dick
as a man’s cock. Still, I didn’t know what to do now. I felt kind of silly but I couldn’t
just stuff it back under my robe like a dog with my tail between my legs.
“Honestly, Tyson. Put it away.”
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