shepherd's Pie
By Earth saint

It all started when I was 10 class old, the class my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to have his obsession with Grand larceny automobile blindsided by his first crush.
I had just started junior high, where they made us take boring hooey like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to see the risk of forbidden lust, yet old enough to comment how my mother would often do the sexiest things without knowing it.
thing might have been different had my mother been more willing to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally comply at her cad everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my free time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more queer disposition.
She had an extensive shoe collection, nearly of which were high heels. She loved wearing dog so much that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the house, by practicing in unseeable stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to take something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a straw. If she was sitting at family grading theme, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about sportsman. She just enjoyed wearing her match Jersey and a pair of tights, rooting for whichever team had the gelded quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would angle down, pout her back talk together and gently blow until it was gone. The feeling excited me so often that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the prison term I finished luxuriously shoal, I was so used to being by my mother's incline that leaving for college to a lesser extent than an hour away filled me with highly motley emotions due to all the beat memories left behind.
By my third year at Emerson, the novelty of living away from abode had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no girls and only a few male friends to help vote out the ennui.
One dreary afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the bluing, with the radical idea of finding a new apartment for us to live together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking womanhood, with long, flowing, chestnut tree Robert Brown hair, hazel center, flat cheeks and tight fitting lip set between her oval Chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red cat suit from her glory 24-hour interval of high school day gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple prize, mostly for balance ray of light. Still, she kept her body in tremendous shape, wearing trendy outfits that proudly displayed her pert chest, pissed ass, and secure of all, her long, head-turning pegleg.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal legal opinion, my female parent was the hottest woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a broad blown obsession. I tried my effective to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the old age, she started to worry that I seemed to have no stake in other missy.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the thought of moving back in with my female parent initially felt like a tone backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a pocket-sized, squatty apartment. My roommate was a sum up slob. Yet, in spite of the cephalalgia, and as much as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to last on my own and part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to pass my junior year getting hammered every night and screwing as many college girl as possible. At to the lowest degree, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the Same tightfitting kid from Rhode Island, with a trend to fidget and make awkward jokes around girls my own age, to the point where even the ugly ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my best-loved depiction of her on my cell phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden itch to rub one out and nothing made me cum faster than looking at word picture of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as prospicient as I could call up I had always been captivated by my mother's legs. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up upshot planning to instruct merchandising at a nearby community college where the womanhood on faculty often wore pantyhose under their skirts. By that fourth dimension, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many class. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this basic constituent of her daily business garb distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and proportion of her tenacious, sinuous branch.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that time, I became so fixated on my female parent's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the 1st place. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic essence immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary undergarment was imbued with over-the-top business leader luring my oculus to linger over the svelte tone of her lean, slender calves, moving up to the meaty physique of her firm sculpted second joint, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the richness of her rose hip, topped by a set of luscious one shot asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering threads of nylon.
Though I'd long draw a blank the very offset time that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an urgent impulse to depend down and gaze over the fulgurous atmosphere emanating from her legs. From the bottom of the inning of all her suddenly wench, down to the tips of her toes, each pair she wore had the power to enrapture me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a I day went by where I wasn't sitting at home waiting for her to walk in and kick off her aphrodisiacal bounder. My dreamy optic followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the warmly gleam of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the Sir Thomas More I became desperate to feed my growing fixation at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't unusual for me to pull out out my camera and get her to dumbfound for me out in public. She'd always been the type of female parent who gladly encouraged any Falco subbuteo I developed, especially my growing interest in photography. Eventually, I managed to take in dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous peg. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so unseasoned, not to mention being her son.
My favorite mental picture for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her leg. Before teaching, working in corporate USA had given her many old age to develop this particular acquirement. As a trained pro, she was far too elegant to take one leg and carelessly founder it over the other.
Instead, with her head up and her chirpy knocker pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, tangle her script under her skirt, then with full phase of the moon denotation, leaf out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky stem, the lush contours visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her let down thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously double-dyed coalition, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my dick throbbing auditory modality that elusive swish.
Deep down, I knew it was incorrect. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the spicy woman on Earth. Her part alone sent shivering down my spikelet, with the pure choice of words and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly positive educator, with only the slender trace of a typical New England accent.
Despite being over 40, her nutritious diet and friendly demeanour gave her a youthful glow. She barely ate more than two morsel of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every dawning. While it was clearly a prescribed thing, her sizable lifestyle only encouraged my physical attractiveness to continue edifice and become more powerful each day.
Her bra sizing was an average out 34-B. Yet, her modest chest proudly stood out in contrast with her flyspeck waistline, jutting from the flimsy stuff of her soaked blouses and low-necked tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to opine she still had pauperism. Yet, to my limited cognition, after the divorcement, she had no men in her life story. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much time worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had meter to date. She should birth had fling lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own forbidden infatuation and my ever increasing luxuria for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my whack, as I lied in bed, bore to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell figure flashed up across the screen. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her safe flick, taken in clip Square. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a disastrous miniskirt, black heart, and a refulgent span of sunburn pantyhose gleaming in extensive daylight.
I snapped the video just as Mom walked over to bewilder future to a tall New York street lamp. It was like she could read my thoughts as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her case was only one-half visible under her long whisker, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty celestial pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her left knee behind her back. She stood there holding the pose for several arcsecond, with one shoe playfully lifted off the flat coat and a smiling on her fount as brilliantly as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the sound up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to find the noisy jangle of bash, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a instant ?"she said quickly."There's something crucial I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her vocalisation that told me it must be grievous. Still, I'd just spent the net five minutes drooling over her aphrodisiac photos. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her chest on my last head trip home. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My gumshoe was already throbbing. All I could think about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hand, then taking my silky finger and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the more she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My rental is up in two months,"she said."I just got a letter that my rent is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can afford that."
"Okay,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not okay,"she said."I'm going to get to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd flavour if I moved up to Boston."
At that picky bit, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so safe around my shaft that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the chance to be up airless and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to suppose about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not sure what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to suppose what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random interrogative sentence hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the instructor's couch,"she said."I'm on my tiffin good luck. Why ?"
"No cause,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her legs crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one shoe off her foot, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's amercement,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that make things well-heeled ?"
"You're right on,"she said."That's actually the genuine reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roomie. And I've never been crazy about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a skillful space for the two of us."
It took me another second to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the smooth velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the distance of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely concentrate. I was too busy wondering what her free hired hand was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the earphone. Was she gently rubbing her finger's breadth over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many multiplication at household ? Was she dipping one metrical unit in and out of her horseshoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to know for sure as shooting. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the instructor's waiting room, in full prospect of anyone walking by.
"semen on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old prison term. I can always find workplace at another campus. Plus we can find a place with more space for your television camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her cordiform ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose voider peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to blab to Jimmy about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bond on my roommate, even if our rental was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some background rules,"I added, when I started to realize the exemption I'd be giving up purely to see her peg every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to name the dominion now, huh ? OK. Like what ?"
"cypher John Major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be for sure we'll respect each other's concealment. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys dwelling or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to worry about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was slopped, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, More touchy detrition to my teasing hand chance event.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each early's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you place to fume weed and gambling with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your electronic computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's nothing you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the hell,"I said, voicing my annoyance."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first response was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her words carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a fiddling bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very fine-looking. It doesn't make sense that you'd rather sit at family surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of actual women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my chronicle too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering feel that made me a wee bit nervous."I never knew you had such a matter for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should inaugurate you to some of the instructor here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought process of her checking my computer behind my back, by then my drumhead was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the matter to something to a greater extent stimulating."Did you like the new brake shoe I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a second gear, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The lift in her voice told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must take been reading my brain,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had cypher but compliments all day. It was Nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"Cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't postponement to see how they look."
"Well, you're in portion,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at spot in the morning. You should follow with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool off tomorrow. You might want to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be fine,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jeans. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a pair,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject area.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your denim,"I repeated, resisting the urge to moan."I dead reckoning that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another mo or so before I exploded all over my helping hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just make sure you tell Jimmy to wear some pants this fourth dimension. It's a minuscule sticky seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a devil."But then again, you can't really blame him. That wench you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal length. The doll I'm wearing today is brusque than that."
"Well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you hold back your students from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's kind of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"Stop it, Mom. You look great. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other woman. We all like to hear it."
"well, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my female parent, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your mother, you'd probably what ?"
That was the polar present moment. In 19 geezerhood, my mother had never asked me a question as directly intimate as that. My balls were practically about to burst. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to sound my unnatural desire to run my hands over her lenient silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy legs. Still, I somehow managed to reply with an answer intended to conceal my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my os frontale."This is starting to shoot a weird turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, tell me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same time."Seriously, I want to know,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive eruption."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the 1 you look at on those unsporting web site ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't Tell whether she wanted the true statement, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should lecture about this anymore."
"okay, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to work you uncomfortable. Just tell me one matter. Which part of a fair sex's consistency do you like nigh ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My best option was to force back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we drop off it now ?"
To my astonishment, she didn't stop there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the state I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, finish it. I can't take this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this whole idea. It's bad enough you can't find a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the stopping point prison term,"I said, starting to drop off it."If I really wanted a girl, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one foot in the grave ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetish I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the meter. I certainly don't want you having sexual persuasion about me. Surely, I don't have to distinguish you how out or keeping that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how out or keeping it was. In that bit, I honestly didn't concern. By then, I was pummeling my tool with a vengeance, bent-grass on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to overcharge every thread with a massive wad of thick sebaceous punk, purely out of spite.
I closed my eye, instantly reliving the indelible retention that triggered my fetich in the first position.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing see-through pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from work in her sinister fuck-me pump, the stale olfactory property of dampness, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her vain metrical unit. I could even picture the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hip switching from face to side, pretending not to fuck how men spun toward the strait of her spiked heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to come home, flake off her pantyhose and carelessly thrash them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salve, as I secretly pulled them out, slue my tongue over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her solid, musky scent.
My lurid memories pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my urge to groan, watching jets of semen blast into the air, surging from the point of my hammer, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hand, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no musical theme what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my reckless act, her pantyhose swimming in a syndicate of cum.
Finally, I managed to call for myself, leading with a sound sigh.
"look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be good. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being honest. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important determination, I think you should tell me everything. Tell me the truth, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one hand, by saying no, she'd most likely sense that I was lying, which would only clear her angry and potentially baffle any luck of us moving back in together. On the other mitt, telling the Sojourner Truth would most likely freak her out so much that she might not speak to me again for month, and that was even worse.
Normally, in position like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the first matter I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my billet. That's when it hit me that the best way to answer her dubiousness was to plough it around and ask her a doubt of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to redirect."But foremost I'd like to get wind what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short breather."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your head. I think if we're going to live together, then you have to forebode to find a lady friend and start animation in the veridical world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"good,"she said."I'll see you in the daybreak. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The succeeding morning, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, blacken, V-neck jumper, fairly low cut, with her first off initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a ash gray necklace which failed to hold on me from noticing the segmentation swelling over her engross neckline. Her blue skinny jeans sat low on her shapely pelvic girdle, hugging every breaking ball under skin-tight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her mark new, high-heeled, bleak leather sandals, with thin strap spanning over her naked base.
Looking down at the turnup of her jeans, the first matter I noticed was the disturbing absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my unscathed night tossing and turn in anticipation of seeing them the next morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how occupy she was talking about my fetich. So the last thing I wanted to do was hollo any undue attention to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roommate, Jimmy, promptly emerged from his elbow room. The grin on his face told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a genteel handshake. For a few second, she and Jimmy stood there making little lecture, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak to me in my room.
I led her back to my bedroom and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her last pair of pantyhose with a sheer blackguard and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to gargle out the pair I'd taken from her vanity. So I promptly fished them from the big bucks of wash thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give her a present moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must induce been hurrying too much to actualize that I'd purposely left the threshold slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow crack, knowing it was wrongfulness, yet still unable to tear my eyes from watching her undress.
With her vertebral column turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a time, enjoying the lovely sight of denim smothering her squiffy round butt. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zip fastener, then continued watching as her hands went up to her sides. She hooked her quarter round into the narrow cincture and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hip joint side to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a thong, resisting the urge to heave as she peeled down the dungaree, revealing her naked ass. My dick instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a clear vista of her outer pussy backtalk, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that Jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any bit. Still, my incredible fortune was too effective to draw up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her nimble fingers rolled up the first leg. She then lifted her left groundwork, then reached down and slid the ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slither the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee. She set down her leave alone foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right foot inside the diametric sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knee joint, drawing the nylon in by inch over her supple thigh, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely pelvis under the distortion waistband, making one terminal accommodation to line of merchandise up the stitching along her narrow rear cracking, where her high-class asscheeks, under a marvelous level of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could deliver stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to quit while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the living room to find jemmy rolling a joint, which I'd come to expect as component part of his forenoon routine. The nighttime before, he and I had sat down for a tenacious talk where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, jimmy took it in pace, explaining that he had already been planning to propel in with his girlfriend in a few weeks anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard feelings between us, especially when I stopped to take who my new roommate was soon to be.
moment later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her pretty groundwork. I promptly turned and hurried toward the threshold, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her view. We left my apartment and set out to bump our new place, quickly escaping so Mom could head off jimmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the cycle and turned on the local eighties place. The birdcall on the radio thankfully managed to calm my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic lyric.
"Every fiddling thing she does is a sorcerous. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the next couple of time of day going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second story walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The house was owned by a young, newlywed span named Joel and Artemis, who conveniently lived on the first floor. Joel was a successful contractile organ in the urban center. Cynthia was a former nursemaid turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given parturition to their initiatory nestling. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the size of her enormous titty which seemed to account for nearly half her consistence weight, especially considering how short circuit she was. If I had to estimate, I would have said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big breast !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inches shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Artemis had graduated from the same high school day as my mother, only eight years later.
Artemis led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our eyes. The topographic point had literally everything we wanted, high ceiling, hardwood level, with tons of blank space, including a with child eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the leftfield was a combination dining and life way area, divided by sliding double doorway. On the right field was a diminished billet, a small guest bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a small storage space, with a threshold to the backward porch, and steps leading up to the attic. The attic had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two bedrooms, and a bombastic schoolmaster bath.
Mom and I signed the term of a contract in a issue of days, agreeing to proceed in by Oct 1st.
The move itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired mover to plow all the big article of furniture. Then, on Sunday the thirtieth, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hours. Sometime around noonday, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no intellectual nourishment. I offered to come out unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the hand truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and jump removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old books and photo record album, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound diary which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the vacate room and quietly cracked open the number one page.
The first introduction was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The starting time few entries weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old selling firm she'd worked at during her married couple. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks bill. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was someone Thomas More traditional and subservient. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did appear much glad with his new trophy wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the low five or six pages, when things started to plunk up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with Mike Sir Arthur Sullivan in the stairwell over by his place. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 class untested than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't plosive consonant flirting with me ever since he heard I was back on the market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to encourage him. It wasn't my conclusion to move the duplicator outside his office. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the floor. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just play along. At first, he would shake off it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to loiter down there and stare at my legs for a while. It's pretty funny to watch. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the like affair. He must really care my ramification. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through adequate lately. The endure thing I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about microphone. Kelly and Robin are throwing a goodbye party for me tomorrow dark. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His dick got really surd when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the women in the office staff. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollars on a brand new party attire and that son of a bitch didn't even show up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were plenty of early hombre there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again adjacent hebdomad. It was sort of odd being the center of tending, but I think I could get used to it. I know Robin was pretty jealous. I told her to stop buying me shots. Besides, no one puts stripteaser poles in a bar full of boozy cleaning lady expecting cipher to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my puss for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm sure mike would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't blockade thinking about his tool. I really need to get have it away. I should probably invest in a good vibrator. I would experience bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would come up it. He's always sneaking into my room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my panty drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The last matter I want to find is a huge cum stain on one of my satin thong. I guess at some tip I'll have a talk of the town with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's member. I really wish well his Father-God were here…
I would let kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the elbow room. I headed back downstairs trying to process all the twisted sentiment scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or barren as I'd always believed. She seemed to enjoy getting attention from younger men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a fornicatress really got me excited. I stepped out onto the back porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to calm myself down.
The view from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the drape were drawn on our new landlord's bedchamber window downstairs. In the corner of the room, I spotted an void rocking chair, next to what looked like the railing on a baby's cribbage. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the baby in her munition. Even from such a high Angle, it was virtually inconceivable to look down and see anything early than her banging tits. The image reminded me of those IMAX picture where they show you the terra firma from space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't assist grinning at the alight blue clitoris up sweater she was wearing. The cloth was stretched out so lots it looked like she bought it from baby Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to heave in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already ruttish as fuck, as I watched Cynthia reach up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her get out bosom flop through the gap of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's mouth over her swollen mammilla. My whole life story I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth. I've always preferred pegleg, but there was no denying the beauty of Cynthia's phenomenal jugs. The sizing of her breasts reminded me of my day back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dough until it rose into soft, round, flesh-colored pitcher's mound. The longer I watched, the more I found myself covetous of her little boy and the blissful look on his face as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my dick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front doorway. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back inside.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a short, heather gray, New England patriot T-shirt, with shameful spandex yoga pant, and a pair of brown fur-lined boots. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no makeup, yet I still wanted to crouch her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get much done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd postponement for you."
"That's hunky-dory. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of debris everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"goodness dubiousness,"she said."Why don't you sit here ? If I get tired of standing, I can always sit on your lap."
Assuming she was just kidding, I grabbed my sandwich and took a tail end, while Mom leaned against the buffet and started to eat.
After one insect bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front end of the hot seat, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her legs stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new habitation. Are you excited ?"
I would get answered, if only she hadn't chosen that exact moment to set her ass on top of my groin. The scowl on her look instantly told me she could feel how severely I was. I expected her to bound right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this tortured spirit on her nerve like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this cold, distant feel in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the telephone set birdsong over again. Only this meter, there was no clever way for me to whirl it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the typeface. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the smoothness of her legging as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the legging felt more like velvety leotards, not swerve like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the spot. On the positive slope, the framework was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her arms in social movement of her.
"Maybe you should tell apart me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still ineffectual to present her, I lifted my sweaty ribbon and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her head."looking at, I understand that you're Young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the house like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that well-situated. It takes time."
"Okay, maybe you're rightfulness,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just have to shell out with it on my own."
"mulct,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the ordered thing to do in that state of affairs would have probably been to stand up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to draw light of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was uncoerced to have a sense of humor about the entirely thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her head back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow down twat of her eyes.
"You haven't got the chunk to try anything like that."
Her reaction hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been skillful at sports. In schooling, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in class. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny human body, knowing I was too chicken to contend back. I'd been putting up with bullies for as long as I could remember. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my rooster.
"Okay, time out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your pants, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a mild laugh and an obvious smirk on her typeface."So you just wait me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is normal ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nervus,"Mom said, dropping her pass to her chest, before wearily rubbing her frontal bone. After a legal brief moment, she slowly raised her drumhead up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered."Fine, do what you want. I can't stop you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never observe this again."
Admittedly, it would have been easy to stop right there. I could have easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, nobble my butt, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to brush off her own normal about smoking inside the theater. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of worldliness that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in inkiness spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of green goddess."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any understanding, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a 2d, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in paw, as she marched back over toward the heel counter. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her pocketbook, pulling out a belittled charge plate bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chairperson where I was sitting. Bottle in hand, she leaned over the head of my putz, squirting out a generous glob of creamy application, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"volition that assistant ?"she said, with a grin on her case which I instantly read as meek amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all position, enabling me to enjoy the opinion of my own slippery handwriting, rising and falling around my rigid shot, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would consider my technique, imagining one day to feel her hired man instead of my own. The aspect on her face lacked any material body of reflection, as if to prevent me from noticing any house of interestingness in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really pelt along this up,"she said, dropping her workforce to her hip joint."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to crusade this even further."You could turn around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and evidence you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say delight. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I seem at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of implicit exponent, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with ebullience.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I calculate at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out less than three inches from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is thoroughgoing. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the sight of her bleak leggings stretched taut over the bender of her firm shapely croupe. She kept her foot together, accentuating the incline where the small of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the blind drunk fabric, so amazingly daily round and wide, I could barely prevail back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm gladiolus you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a footling further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any More fiat from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. infer ?"
"O.K.,"I whispered, losing my breathing spell."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stomach up. We're trading places."
With no hesitancy, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my female parent to ferment around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index finger, directing me to stand in social movement of the hot seat. Then I watched as she set her stifle down on the wooden seat, keeping her legs together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her tight gluteus muscle,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then exhibit me,"she said."Show me how horny you are compensate now. Let me feel it. Let me feel that hot shipment all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the sound of her voice nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even up to of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to hitch off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her bleak yoga pants ?
I should have accepted it for the exclusive right that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my hammer smack up against her fag, a forceful hit softened by the leggings and the meaty soma underneath, the perfect cushion for my throbbing penis to grind against her smooth, velvety rump.
She let out a terrorize shriek, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal dissent as I violently started thrusting my articulatio coxae back and forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stay ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course of instruction, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to turn back, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nil in income tax return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my cock. Her vocalism was raspy and out of breath, with her head forward, hair swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so hard. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me palpate your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so much heart fare gushing out of my prick like a broken pee independent. The forcefulness of each muscle spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my branch gave out. My face was buried in her tomentum as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering hotshot of her delicate impertinence pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching balls.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the Shirley Temple leg covering spread head over Mom's ass were completely coated under a deep layer of white creamy foam, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the crack of her moist pussy.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go variety,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a 2d, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good thought,"she said, slowly rising to her foot."Just try to avert getting another hard-on in the adjacent ten transactions, okay ?"
* * *
For the residue of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only simulate she needed as much time to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the sleep of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking about of our matter. Mom spent to the highest degree of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the life way hooking up our idiot box and stereophonic system. We ordered pizza pie for dinner. Then sat on the sofa and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to foregather some friends from school who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got house, Mom had already gone to bed.
The future morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an evacuate house. It was Mon and Mom had apparently already left for piece of work. I'd woken up with barely enough time to seize a quick shower, throw on some clothes and race off to get to my aurora stratum. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to worry that my foolish actions had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a eminence with a list of things Book of Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the fear of Mom telling me to locomote out made it virtually unacceptable to focus on anything else. I stared off into infinite, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the mentation of going home, certain of what was destined to amount.
My final form ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two ounces of Amytal ambition. So I figured the best matter to do was go home, smoke a bowl and have a duo beers, just to prepare myself for the foul mode my female parent was indisputable to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the house, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the same box where I'd left it, right at the foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the shopping center. I was kind of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a prospect. He was well dressed for a vernal guy with a nice commercial enterprise suit like he could have been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my posterior, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly experience him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could have got up and find another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and retain my ramification crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye mentation he'd take the suggestion and go away. He must let thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a mo, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the More I realized how aflutter he was to approach me. I was kind of affront, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not give him one just to fuck with his caput. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my rose hip toward him, and slowly uncrossed my pegleg. I paused for a moment, holding them undetermined to show him the disgraceful thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four fourth dimension, crossing my pegleg back and forth. Each time, I held my pegleg clear for a endorsement, letting him see up my wench. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to play along me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a dandy deal on a inglorious pair of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice glossy finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the windowpane. The terrace was so low that sitting down opened my doll up even more, exposing not only my black thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my wooden leg as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert keep me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my legs afford and my skirt up around hips, working my feet into the skid. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play innocent with his back turned. At that point, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the place and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the going and turned around to see if he was still behind me. for certain enough, he walked out with a grin on his face like he hadn't done anything wrong. By then, I was so pissed off that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful legs. I asked if he got off peeking up women's skirts. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a cunt or maybe he could throw seen more. He offered to ask me out for a crapulence to see if he could change my opinion. He looked a picayune angry when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly untie my blouse, then told him to take out his peter. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my palm, taking his cock in one deal, while using the other to slowly commit up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the other to stroke his cock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my wooden leg and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my thigh, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my wench, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The passage ended there, but the arouse effect lingered in my graphic mental imagery longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without doubt my first open evidence that the womanhood who raised me and handed down all of my morals was willing to engage in extreme point, high-risk, sexual demeanor with seemingly any new man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the face and feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slattern, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my mother's dark side, determined to see how far she was willing to go to satisfy her deepest sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the bowling ball I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard pace coming up the stair. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobweb from my head, as I walked toward the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his creature belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the doorway and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a bright orange satin nightie.
"Good break of day,"she said, over a deep yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled smell, as I glanced down at her fuzzy pink slippers."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would make come sooner, but I woke up about ten second ago."
"Oh, no job. I was actually expecting your hubby. But that's assuredness. arrive on in,"I said, pulling the doorway open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a twist myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her face."That's actually form of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a lean of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, lav sink, and one of the light permutation in the attic."
"No concern,"she said."Smoke warning device probably needs a new battery. If the light switch isn't working, I'll have to state Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living way, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Artemis had brusk blonde fuzz, in one of those voguish bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely inning for the fullness of her round, chubby face. Knowing how vital some charwoman are, she might birth described herself as overweight. In my legal opinion, the supernumerary child weight just made her look more buxom. Her hips were fairly wide, yet her stomach was still pretty flat, with a pair of incredibly vast knockers, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a little under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and hang over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no cultivated way to keep myself from staring down at her behemoth bird of Minerva. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's tits reminded me of those heavy bags down at the gym, two of them, position to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonders for her teat too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orange tree satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her excuse for showing up half naked, I did my salutary to relieve her signified of urging, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could own waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave employment until five or six. She's more sore to the frigidity than I am. My old apartment was a good deal worse. Not to refer, we trust you."
"well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first tenant since we bought this place…hate to start off on the faulty foot,"she added."The radiator seems o.k., must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's form of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"Sounds honest,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and break out the sink too. I just need to put on some existent clothes."
"No hurry, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to wear a little more next clock time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her night-robe had helplessly slipped down."I know the fille can be a short distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless endeavour to cover up, making her tit nub jiggle under the nightgown, as I stood there fighting to celebrate my eyeballs inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the threshold, she paused in front of the place, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that just, but it's always been a hobby. When I was young, I had this dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like sportsman Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or Corinthian,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's cool,"she said, smiling."You mean like cover girl trend. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just struck me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a glove Romney bumper dagger, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"wellspring, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the more than Cynthia reminded of the fille I knew back in high school, the one who'd been spoiled since nascency and hid their emotions under a well-practiced grinning and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, suitable in this typeface considering her plentiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our second anniversary. I wasn't sure what to get Joel as a giving, but now I'm thinking he'd really relish some nice glamour guess, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her wedlock. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle flirtation of this despairing housewife or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pants.
"Umm, sure, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discourse wardrobe and take some run stroke, but otherwise, I should let everything we need."
She then wasted no metre stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the rampart and slowly proceeded to peel down the right strap of her nightgown, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here employment for you ?"
"I'll use the flash,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the moment the photographic camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so much assurance in front of the electron lens. The inexperienced person, plucky housewife who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering vamp, with two perfectly pouting lips and a pestilent come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating effect of her horny dismal eyes. Yet, the sultry look on her typeface, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely train me for the instant she crossed her arms together, thrusting her tits toward the television camera like treble airbags, completely filling up the frame with more cleavage than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through diverse poses, when I mildly requested that we step over across the residence hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the paw, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need a lot program line as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her head tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the ceiling.
"Mind if I ask you a personal doubt,"I asked, as she shifted over to her provide position, returning my query with a knowing smile.
"You want to have a go at it how big they are."
"Well, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be smaller before I got meaning. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they offend your back ?"
"All the meter,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two gallon of Milk strapped to your chest. It sorting of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your teat ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Artemis nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use formula, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My breast Milk River ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than even Milk River. I try to eat lots of fruit to shit it sweeter. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."wellspring, I know you have to go. I'll upload these pictures and see which angles workplace best. Let me recognise when you have metre for a fully photo shoot."
"Oh, O.K.,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need time to imagine about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calm in her part combined with her level gaze gave me a lightheaded feeling as I set down the camera, then pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed things couldn't possibly get weirder, this womanhood I barely knew was offering to let me taste her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the here and now I saw her, my first impulse was to inhume my face between her chest and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a footling curious.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her proper hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder shoulder strap. Sweat beads formed across my brow as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the other. My eyes concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her massive bureau, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently comfort down the glazed cloth. Finally, with a lump in my pharynx, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull out her tremendous jug.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't fathom how a woman so pocket-size could end up with titmouse that big. Each one was bigger than my psyche and must have weighed at to the lowest degree ten lb, as I sat there entranced by the size and shape of these two gigantic globes, hovering inches from my typeface. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with reaching marks along both side of her otherwise porcelain tegument.
As big as they were, Cynthia's boob were far too with child to take to the woods the upshot of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the piano tissue really started to jiggle.
Needless to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her titmouse out for all their glory, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to know how majestic she was of her Brobdingnagian 38FFs.
posing in the chair, my eyes were horizontal surface with her garden pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her dark areolas, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked digit, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your sass on it,"she said."Just sit back, assailable wide of the mark, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed ordination, leaning my pass back, then parting my lips open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her thumb and forefinger on each side of meat of her compensate nipple. Then, using light pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The first sprinkle squirted from her nipple like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was utter, pointing her nipple directly in front of my rima oris. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the need to burn this import deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, tangy liquidity filling my open mouth magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me time to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my backtalk. My eyes opened just in clock time to see her lifting her early breast, which soon began streaming milk over my tongue as well.
As Artemis continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my spit through the tender nectar, letting the nip seep into every turning point of my mouth, tingling my taste buds, as the macrocosm around me faded into a aloof blur.
"person seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."salutary thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's angelic,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really prize your help with the pic. But I should probably head back now. We'll public lecture again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my best to seem nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it readable that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the weewee just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you feel about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us wear upon them all the time at the hospital. You know, like those atrocious white compaction hose. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an thought too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nurse's rig, with white heels and glossy Edward White hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just make me look effective. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a trouble,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a brief hug and a diffuse buss on the cheek, as I closed the threshold, wiping the exertion off my forehead.
* * *
By the time Cynthia left, I felt like a amount zombie. My dick was so hard I could barely walk, like all the blood in the rest of my physical structure had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to determine Mom's diary once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random transition. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the icy air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the date of her latest entry. My breast heaved the consequence I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to do it how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut tactile sensation that something inside her wanted it to bechance too. In my mind, the opening was so tantalizing that the prohibit excitement of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that tip, I wanted a way to attain the second even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a insensate room. Or maybe it was just my raw instinct taking over as I walked over and pulled open my female parent's top drawer.
I opened it to find a luxurious agglomerate of heights caliber women's hosiery, in a large number of colors, design and heaviness levels. I studied the deal, breathing heavily over the bounty of nylon undergarment spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose sideboard. I rummaged through the flock, searching until my hands came across a feather luminousness pair of silky, midnight black pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the draftsman, I made my way over to the bed, removing my blue jean and underwear, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking command from the retention of watching Mom put them on under her jeans. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to go out stretching the nylon over my cock and balls. My dick stood up like a flag pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its limit, drawing the sash several inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the slam flat up against my stomach. That first-class honours degree moment of tot encasement from the waist down filled my whole body with tingling electrical energy. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own placid leg took me to a level of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the material, making me palpate right at home.
Ready to bulge meter reading, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my female parent letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her tits, and the sick anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my consignment as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the weed, sent me into a dreamlike state as I quietly turned down to the page.
Sept 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting different lately. I love him to end and I can't help feeling responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting older and he's basically grown enough to hit his own decisions. Still, it's obvious he has certain disposition that are far too severe to overlook. I was able to depend past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this bizarre fixation he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an beast. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those things. It's hard to even stomach the thought of letting him put down me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my spirit, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own flesh and blood. What kind of mother would I be to let him cogitate what he did was okay ? It doesn't weigh how practically I enjoyed it. There's nothing improper with enjoying the impression of individual finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to pull up it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a pretty decent size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so rip since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so fast-growing lately. I wish there was person I could babble to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should avail him find mortal, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is crazy. I missed him so often and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work this out, as long as I'm able-bodied to hold in myself break that he can. hazard we'll just induce to wait and see…
As I finished the passageway, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my eyes, letting her words replay in my brain, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of winder jangling in the whorl downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter past five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the diary back in the box, then ran to my elbow room with no fourth dimension to direct off her pantyhose. I threw on some jean, slid on a pair of socks, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as calm as I could.
"You're home base early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of junk mail, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning nerve forward with a quick smiling."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather skillful in her stylish Asa Gray business case. The color was a picayune drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off decent above mid-thigh, leaving more than decent leg on showing where I could briefly pause to stare over the inert color of the sheer pearl pantyhose stretching down to her Patrick White leather heart.
"Sorry, probably smoked too lots,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner party ?"
"Well,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to empty the bag."Since it's our inaugural official home-cooked meal in our new berth, I went out and got stuff to realize shepherd's pie."
The dish Mom referred to was an Irish whiskey casserole, made with onion plant, carrots, ground lamb or beef, topped by a stratum of creamy mashed potatoes. It was also an inside jest among our family.
sheepman was the epithet Mom took when she got tie, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her go name would still be the Lapplander as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and early extra occasions.
"assuredness,"I said."Shall I break out the good Republic of China ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your founder and I had the Lapplander matter for dinner when we moved into our first-class honours degree space. I figured since you're the new man of the theatre, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the mentation of a tasty, home-cooked repast sounded pretty good. For a second, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got home. I had spent to the highest degree of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would have said something right then, but the grin on her face was so surface and full of warmheartedness that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that instant, I could only assume that Mom had made the decision to affect on like nil had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter head on, I did my undecomposed to ignore the tensity between us, though it wasn't easily, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the way. She must have picked up on the violent storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck. Her essence smelled like mint candy as her hazel heart cut right through me. Her recollective, unwavering gaze calmed me to the point where the panic inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck opening and shoulders.
"Not sure as shooting,"I said,"just been a foreign couple of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been middling Nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could find the warmth of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the lips. It wasn't long a candy kiss, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't sense my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how often I missed you all this sentence. It means so a lot that you're willing to give up your freedom to live with your loony, old mom. I want you to acknowledge no matter what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to take hold of her and kiss her as tough as I could. The light her in eye gave me the feeling she might not draw in away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and push my backtalk firmly against hers.
"So what's with the photographic camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a present moment, quickly eye blink, trying to collect my thought process. In hindsight, perhaps I should own lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a mild smiling on my face, as I calmly proceeded to excuse how Artemis had stopped by former, noticed the tv camera in the office and thought it would be cool to gift Book of Joel some sexy photos for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her facial expression immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem aflutter about it,"she said, quirking her head to the side."Are you sure she just wanted film, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her soundbox felt like she was bracing for a major shock. Her centre stared intently as she quietly held her breath.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily unruffled as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the sister,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the topic of breast Milk. At first, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my answer the minute I turned away. Before I could stop her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left field and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those pictures before Book of Joel hears about this,"she said."The last thing we need is a reason for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the photographic camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the photo one at a time.
I could hear the hurt in her voice as she looked down and studied the flick with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's naught,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a living. It's just a way to bulge out my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulders. The hair falling over her face made it hard to see her look, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulder joint, trying to comfort her.
Finally, with tears welling in her middle, she looked back, representative shakiness as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her wrangle struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with More passion than a soldier returning from war. Her mouth parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled explosion with the like intense urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each former for God knows how long. Our manus roamed everywhere, groping each former's dead body in a wild frenzy. The wonderful texture as I ran my finger's breadth through her silky brown whisker, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my tool, stirred me to get hold of down and shove both hands under her skirt, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no excuse, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingers over every inch of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple brass yielding to the pressure of my clenching digit, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a thin layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the secret inside my dungaree. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to hand down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to give up my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered articulatio coxae and thigh, as she urgently reached through my heart-to-heart slide fastener, trying in vain to experience my cock, only to be blocked by a duo of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was naught I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her digit softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of unsounded acknowledgment passed between us, where placing her hand against the smooth, coloured fibers of the pantyhose hidden inside my blue jean opened a portal leading to the shadows of forbidden sex.
Slowly, my female parent began tracing her finger's breadth over the outline of my bulging shot. I could hardly think my gorgeous mother was actually touching my shaft, let alone smiling as I felt her handwriting slowly get down rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."wellspring, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasance of her delicate contact, with her fingerbreadth gliding over the ridge of my stiff, pulsating calamus, lightness as a plumage, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak patch, while brushing the lead of her fingers against my tender glans.
My solution described the impression of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to enjoy the dizzying sentiency, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitals, spreading through every electric cell of my physical structure, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little tight, but not uncomfortable."
The power point of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a piddling restraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do consume to say one affair. I can't deny my feelings any More than you can. So I'm bequeath to let us play with each other but only so much."
"okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that signify ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one footstep at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my hoodoo is good enough for me."
"Oh, don't concern,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't downfall far from the tree."
With her Edward White dog still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my rotating shaft, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating apparent movement, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the insistency inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from prat, forcing our trunk to fuse together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full-of-the-moon well the effect she was having on me.
"Best intuitive feeling in the human beings,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm trusted I can convince you otherwise. Tell me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling pass of her haircloth, as I watched her quietly mistreat back toward the dining board.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her bounder together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My center settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one hand on each face of her dame, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the flooring, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her stub. The nylon ascendence top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whiter than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a good angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"Take a characterization, it'll last longer,"she said.
I heeded her intelligence promptly, leaning over to pick up the camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my Charles Herbert Best to prevent my hands steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the genus Lens vertically, wanting to capture the full extension of her leg, ensuring her bounder were seeable in the skeletal frame. My fervor was so whelm I could barely maintain my concentration. The embodiment of all my fancy stood just a few whole tone away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard physical evidence straining under the pressure level of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our proscribe foreplay by the seductive way in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking pictures as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest of drawers across the mesa. Her prostrate locating beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the tend brawniness of her peg seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright berth, turning to face the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her dog on top of the seat. She flipped her pilus, striking another pose, letting her blazer slide down over her left field berm. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't avail watching the motion of her hand rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the fabric against her tegument, caressing the nylon with such tenderness that I suddenly became drunk with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace semi-circles covering the lower half of each breast, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring voluminousness of her bust, setting her tits high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was part of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut lash of the Lapplander lacy fabric and coloring material. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the board, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg hybridisation, as I held up the camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her left metrical unit.
Finally, with her skid still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her hound pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her nous to the right, snapping another exposure with her legs elevated and the side of her fount peeking back at me with the juicy smile I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left wing hand over the cotton control panel between her wooden leg. I held up the camera for one death pose, framing the terminal shot so her face was centered between her open stage, as she scrunched her eyeball together, parted her mouth, and bit down on one of her knuckle duster, feigning an expression of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The visual sense was so compelling that I instantly tore off everything including my sock. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open arms. Our lips melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her legs wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough way to reach up and caress her breasts. She let out a moan as my fingers made contact with her intumesce mammilla, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my penis was begging for release. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was volition to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the tabular array, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on flat up against her butt. She leaned back, keeping our steaming oral cavity bonded together, swirling her glossa against mine.
Keeping one hand firmly attached to her knocker, I took the other and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her slit with my middle finger's breadth. Her brim parted as she moaned deeply against my rima oris. The wetness inside her confirmed the decisive precondition of her foreplay. Her hips slowly began to pivot as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within indorsement, she was panting heavily. Her unharmed torso started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to shake even more. For once in my animation, I was actually in ascendancy, using my fingers to work Mom's pussy into a spumy lather.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the fire even more.
Her reply came with a serial publication of fits and stutters as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nil but a farseeing, steady groan. Her look grimaced as her mouth flung heart-to-heart, moaning and wailing through violent tremors vibrating against my turncock. Her surge breaths gradually became more formula as the smell of her warm juices permeated the elbow room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the current of forbidden luxuria, we hastily made our way toward the living room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the sofa. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the shock. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my cock.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my ray of light fully engorged under pixilated, restrictive thraldom.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my balls, aiding the flow of reeking liquid as her paw continued its journey along my jibe. Grabbing the sash, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my member find the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her psyche, feeling her quick breath around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a sponge. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her glossa along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spittle.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my cock, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her spit to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her look as she quietly jerked me off. Her eye widened as the shaft extended under her skillful manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more attached to her that it was to me.
I had learned my lesson from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put clothes pins on my mamilla and that would have been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the lounge, swinging her leg up to rest them against my groin. Bending her articulatio genus, she nestled both groundwork around my cock, placing the cock between her delicate fillet of sole, grazing the nylon against it, as her silken arches softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me beginning foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the look of her feet covered in nylon sweeping up and down my cock or just the melodic theme that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't know how I was capable to maintain myself from nutting all over her feet correctly then and there.
"That's a safe boy. Let mama jerk you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your peter, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too fussy trying not to cum. I wanted to hold out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
victimisation her strong leg muscles with persistency, she continued pumping her feet up and down my peter until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my shoulder joint, straddled my head and lowered her private parts smack down against my boldness.
She must take in intended to stifle my groans as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed most of it straight down her pharynx. With one bridge player around it, her head started bobbing, jolt and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the sofa as she noisily sucked me with her eager mouth. Meanwhile, my nerve was smothered between her wooden leg, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my brass as I felt her saliva drip mold down, leaving warm puddles around my balls, all the patch maintaining a steady calendar method as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless unconstraint boulder clay she finally came up for air.
After a series of tough, mad breathing place, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to stand up beside her and bend her over the redact, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
Wasting no time, I knelt down and smothered my face between her ramification. I knew it was bad. Still, I reached up and started to draw in down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her bare cheek, before palming them with both mitt, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in head first, lodging my lingua deep inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscle started to contract. She squealed from the mo of sudden introduction, mashing her cheeks firmly against my fount. I kneaded the supple flesh as my tongue slowly began wriggling deep inside the specialise wrinkle. The briny savour deeply aroused me, worming my spit in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the cushions as her anus started to gleam from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the strait of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how nasty it might take been. I was starting to lose all sense of reason, with no regard for how far I was starting to bear on my luck, instead pushing my natural language farther into the deepness of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her pussy flood until intellect had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spotlight left in her prick where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the border of redact, with her branch folded and her feet lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a penury to take full phase of the moon advantage of my mother's thirst for sexual perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her genu, gripping her thigh, with my rosehip sawing back and Forth River, feeling her pantyhose tickle both face of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knees, staring down at the wanton pleasure burning in her middle. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spin out her around, and shoved my shaft rightfield between her thighs. Not once did she talk a single complaint as I stood there thrusting between her ramification, blanketed with pantyhose on both sides.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her power to secrete all of my pent up frustration. In that instant, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For years, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same twisted obsession, as I grew up under the turn of nylon cast by the sweetheart of her shimmering branch.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her shank, driving my shaft between her silken thighs furiously pumping back and Forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my individual.
Eventually, the rising pressure edifice inside my Lucille Ball rose to a point much too powerful to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my monition, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the base. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took cargo hold of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using stacks of tongue as she generously slobbered the well up head. She then closed her fingers around my irradiation, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my eyes, giving bring in book of instructions as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to seem down and see nothing except your hot creamy encumbrance all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. number on, baby. Don't appreciation back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, understand ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These legs,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, baby,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. shuffle mamma's pantyhose skillful and wet. Cum all over my reasonably legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the sound of her vocalization made it blindingly obvious I was amiss. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those words echo through my head teacher with such sincerity that my balls imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epos cum rain shower, sheeting down wave after waving, sparing no part of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her face, but also dripping from her wet sticky tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening second joint, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingers through the greasy slime, smiling as she reached up to taste the salty residue, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a bit to get my bearings, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the room to block spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty plastic film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."There's nothing better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a winking."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner party. You must be starving."
"I'm adept,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should cook for you."
Mom quirked her caput."You want to make dinner ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you sure you know how to make it ?"
"I'm certainly I can finagle. I've seen you make it a hundred metre. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text edition Cynthia and assure her to fare by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me have it away. But first-class honours degree, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably step out and have a fag first anyway,"I told her.
"Sounds good,"Mom said."In the meantime, please believe about cancelling that photo shoot with Artemis. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will befall,"I said."You can swear me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I trust you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the point,"she said."We just found this stead. And I know you like it here as much as I do. Why would you want to risk losing it so soon ?"
"Fine, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to see out dinner on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to bring out something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two drinking glass of wine, then reached down to bravely take her showtime bite.
The looking at on her face as she slowly began to chew immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"well, it's the cerebration that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the binding of my hand.
"Um, why don't we just go out to eat ?"I suggested."I know you've been wanting to try that Mexican berth in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That place with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really short circuit dresses so you can show me off."
"Perfect,"I said, smiling."Just don't blank out the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, trust me, sweetie. You'll be seeing me a lot of me in pantyhose from now on,"she replied."Just try not to tell anyone I'm your female parent when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, O.K.,"I said, feeling a bit confuse."So what should I secernate people if someone asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is tell them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her Methedrine, whispering her answer as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering candy kiss, sliding her spit inside my backtalk, filling it with the sweet perceptiveness of wine, before slowly pulling her mouth away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to imagine of me as your girl. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own flesh and blood fantasy. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to carry through all your cum just for me."

The End
Copyright @ 2013
earthangelxxx @ gmail.com