Shepherd's Pie
By Earth Angel Falls

It all started when I was 10 old age old, the year my parents got divorced, a convention age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to have his obsession with chiliad thievery Auto blindsided by his first crush.
I had just started junior high, where they made us read boring stuff and nonsense like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too Cy Young to understand the dangers of forbidden lust, yet old enough to mark how my mother would often do the aphrodisiac things without knowing it.
thing might have been dissimilar had my female parent been more volition to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my detached sentence with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her Thomas More peculiar leaning.
She had an extensive skid collection, most of which were senior high school hound. She loved wearing bounder 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 invisible stilettos.
No affair what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her mouthpiece. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drinking anything without a straw. If she was sitting at home leveling papers, she'd sit there for hr sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sun, though she knew almost nothing about sports. She just enjoyed wearing her fit out jersey and a pair of tights, rooting for whichever squad had the precious field general.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her back talk together and gently blow until it was gone. The look excited me so often that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the sentence I finished in high spirits school, I was so used to being by my mother's side that leaving for college to a lesser extent than an hour away filled me with highly mixed emotions due to all the stupefy retentivity left behind.
By my tertiary twelvemonth at Emerson, the knickknack of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each release day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no daughter and only a few male friends to help vote down the boredom.
One dreary afternoon, my female parent called me completely out of the blueing, with the chemical group theme of finding a new apartment for us to exist together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking char, with long, flowing, chestnut brown hairsbreadth, hazel eye, flat cheeks and skinny rim set between her ellipse chin and the downwardly tip of her nozzle.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her glory days of high schooltime gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for balance beam. Still, she kept her dead body in tremendous shape, wearing trendy getup that proudly displayed her pert breasts, mingy ass, and proficient of all, her long, head-turning pegleg.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal legal opinion, my mother was the hottest woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a entire mess up obsession. I tried my better to preserve her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to care that I seemed to deliver no interest in other girls.
I had just started college two old age earlier, so the view of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a lowly, dumpy apartment. My roommate was a total slob. Yet, in spite of the cephalalgia, and as often as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and region of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to spend my junior class getting hammered every night and screwing as many co-eds as possible. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in realness, I was still the Sami tightly fitting kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and make awkward caper around girls my own age, to the point where even the despicable unity started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my ducky pictures of her on my cellphone telephone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum libertine than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as long as I could commemorate I had always been captivated by my mother's pegleg. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up effect planning to teach marketing at a nearby community college where the women on faculty often wore pantyhose under their skirts. By that time, 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 element of her daily business attire distinctly brought out the singular beauty and dimension of her foresightful, sinuous legs.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just pubescence, but around that time, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the number one spot. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their soporific effect immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this average undergarment was imbued with extraordinary big businessman luring my eyes to loiter over the sylphlike tone of her lean, slender calves, moving up to the meaty flesh of her firm sculpted thighs, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her rose hip, topped by a set of luscious turn asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering screw thread of nylon.
Though I'd long blank out the very kickoff meter that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one affair that never left me was an urgent momentum to look down and regard over the dazzling aureole emanating from her peg. From the bottomland of all her short wench, down to the tips of her toes, each pair she wore had the big businessman to enrapture me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at home waiting for her to take the air in and kick off her sexy heel. My dreamy optic followed as she tiptoed around the mansion, lost in the warm gleaming of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The prospicient I stared, the more I became desperate to bung 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 my camera and get her to pose for me out in public. She'd always been the character of mother who gladly encouraged any by-line I developed, especially my growing interest in photography. Eventually, I managed to gather up dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her farseeing, gorgeous legs. I was sure she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so Edward Young, not to mention being her son.
My favorite picture show for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before teaching, working in corporate U.S.A. had given her many years to develop this especial skill. As a aim professional person, she was far too graceful to demand one leg and carelessly flop it over the former.
Instead, with her head up and her perky knocker pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, sweep her hands under her skirt, then with to the full extension, flick 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 lower thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously hone alinement, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the early, sweeping against the food grain, a thrilling speech sound that instantly made my pecker throb hearing that pernicious swish.
Deep down, I knew it was wrong. Still, I often tried to convert myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the red-hot woman on Earth. Her vox alone sent chills down my spine, with the stark diction and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident pedagog, with only the slender touch of a distinctive New England dialect.
Despite being over forty, her nutritious diet and well-disposed demeanor gave her a youthful glow. She barely ate Thomas More than two bit of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two land mile every sunup. While it was clearly a positive degree thing, her healthy lifestyle only encouraged my physical attraction to uphold building and go more powerful each day.
Her bra size was an fair 34-B. Yet, her minor chest proudly stood out in contrast with her petite waistline, jutting from the flimsy material of her pixilated blouses and decollete tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to imagine she still had needs. Yet, to my limited noesis, after the divorce, she had no men in her life history. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so a good deal time worrying if I was getting laid, she might feature had time to date. She should have had offer 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 lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my dick. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cubicle number flashed up across the screen. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her near pictures, taken in Times square toes. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black miniskirt, smutty ticker, and a beaming pair of suntan pantyhose gleaming in blanket daylight.
I snapped the image just as Mom walked over to posture adjacent to a tall New York streetlight. It was like she could learn my view as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only half visible under her long hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rust-brown pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her forget articulatio genus behind her backrest. She stood there holding the pose for several indorsement, with one shoe playfully lifted off the ground and a smile on her case as bright as the pantyhose on her branch.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the telephone set up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to detect the noisy jangle of swath, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something important I need to ask you."
There was something pressing in her vox that told me it must be grave. Still, I'd just spent the last five arcminute drooling over her sexy exposure. I'd even pulled out a couple of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my last tripper habitation. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My dick was already throbbing. All I could recall about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my deal, then taking my satiny finger's breadth 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 open 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 sustain to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd smell if I moved up to Boston."
At that particular moment, I probably should own been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so good around my peter that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the opportunity to be up nigh and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it a lot thought myself. I'm just not sure what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to reckon what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random interrogative hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's lounge,"she said."I'm on my lunch break. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her wooden leg crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one horseshoe off her animal foot, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's fine,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that gain matter easier ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the real reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roomie. And I've never been softheaded about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a decent place for the two of us."
It took me another moment to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the polish velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely concentrate. I was too busy wondering what her free helping hand was doing as she sat there with one hired man holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her fingerbreadth over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many meter at home ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her skid, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to have it away for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's lounge, in replete survey of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old clip. I can always find employment at another campus. Plus we can find a topographic point with more than space for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought process, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her cordate ass, with just a breath of her pantyhose voider peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep back myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to talk to prize about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail bond on my roomy, even if our lease was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some ground linguistic rule,"I added, when I started to realize the exemption I'd be giving up purely to see her ramification every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to make the rules now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"Nothing John Roy Major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll obedience each other's concealment. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys home base or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your sire. You won't have to interest about that."
My regular recurrence was getting faster as the conversation went on. My bobby pin was tight, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a electric sander, more soft friction to my teasing hand solidus.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each former's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you space to smoke weed and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your information processing system ? You're my son, Chris. There's nothing you can blot out 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 low reaction was to titter. Then, she started to explain, parsing her language carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a picayune bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very good-looking. It doesn't make sense that you'd rather sit at home plate surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of veridical women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Christ, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tonicity that made me a wee bit uneasy."I never knew you had such a affair for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should introduce you to some of the teachers here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my computer behind my back, by then my head was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the subject to something more have."Did you like the new shoe I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a second, as I lied there waiting for her solvent. The rhytidectomy in her voice told me she was smiling on the early end.
"You must have been reading my intellect,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but compliments all day. It was Nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"Cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch inglorious strappy sandals I ordered from virago."I can't wait to see how they look."
"Well, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at home in the morn. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd love life to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might need to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be OK,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my blue jean. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a pair,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jeans,"I repeated, resisting the urge to moan."I guesswork that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not matter to in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another mo or so before I exploded all over my manus."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 earn surely you tell Jimmy to wear some knickers this fourth dimension. It's a little awkward seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a demon."But then again, you can't really blame him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal length. The wench I'm wearing today is myopic than that."
"Well that explains all the compliment,"I said."How do you keep your scholar from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's variety of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"plosive it, Mom. You look keen. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other woman. We all like to get a line it."
"fountainhead, it's lawful,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, 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 pivotal moment. In 19 years, my mother had never asked me a doubt as directly sexual 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 voice my unnatural desire to run my script over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her aphrodisiac legs. Still, I somehow managed to react with an result intended to obscure my lawful feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to hold a weird spell. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, secern me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same meter."Seriously, I want to bonk,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive eructation."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those dirty web site ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't William Tell whether she wanted the trueness, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should babble out about this anymore."
"okeh, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to realize you uncomfortable. Just distinguish me one thing. Which percentage of a cleaning woman's body do you like virtually ? Wait, let me think, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My best selection was to push back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we drip it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't diaphragm 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, turn back it. I can't adopt this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sentiency, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's skilful that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this totally idea. It's bad enough you can't find a lady friend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the live on clip,"I said, starting to mislay it."If I really wanted a girlfriend, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one foot in the grave accent ? 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 time. I certainly don't want you having intimate thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to secernate you how incompatible that would be."
Of class she didn't. I'd known all along how out or keeping it was. In that minute, I honestly didn't care. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a vengeance, set on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to soak every thread with a monolithic wad of stocky oleaginous spunk, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the unerasable retention that triggered my fetish in the first office.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing see-through pantyhose with no bird on. I could see her returning from work in her black fuck-me pumps, the moth-eaten odor of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swollen feet. I could even picture the way she smiled as she walked down the street, rosehip switching from side to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the sound of her fortify heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to get home, skin off her pantyhose and carelessly thresh about them in the hamper, leaving them for me to relieve, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my tongue over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My lurid remembering pushed me right over the sharpness. With each violent spurt, I was forced to asphyxiate my impulse to groan, watching honey oil of cum blast into the air, surging from the head of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hand, while my mother patiently waited on the former end, with no mind what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my rash act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to gather myself, leading with a big sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honorable. 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 honorable. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an of import decision, I think you should tell me everything. secern 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 handwriting, by saying no, she'd most likely sentience that I was lying, which would only make her angry and potentially despoil any chance of us moving back in together. On the other hired hand, telling the trueness would most likely freak her out so much that she might not utter to me again for calendar month, and that was even worse.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the first matter I usually did was try to opine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the best way to answer her question was to rick it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be good,"I said, pausing before knavishly attempting to redirect."But first I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short breath."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your head. I think if we're going to inhabit together, then you have to forebode to come up a girl and start living in the real world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"goodness,"she said."I'll see you in the break of the day. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next morning, Mom showed up right on agenda, in a form-fitting, black, V-neck jumper, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver grey necklace which failed to keep open me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her launch neckline. Her blue sky boney denim sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every curve under skin-tight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, black leather sandals, with thin straps spanning over her defenseless feet.
Looking down at the cuff of her blue jean, the first affair I noticed was the disturbing absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my altogether nighttime tossing and turn in prevision of seeing them the next morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how touch on she was talking about my fetish. So the last affair I wanted to do was call any unjustified attention to it compensate away.
We stood there enjoying a tender hug, when my roommate, jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grin on his typeface told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a civilized shake. For a few min, she and jimmy stood there making small talk of the town, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could utter to me in my room.
I led her back to my chamber and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her last pair of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the pair I'd taken from her dresser. So I promptly fished them from the pile of washables thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give her a import to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must have been hurrying too a good deal to realize that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the minute crack, knowing it was wrong, yet still ineffectual to buck my eyes from watching her undress.
With her back turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a time, enjoying the pin-up pile of blue jean smothering her soused round posterior. I then heard the speech sound as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her deal went up to her sides. She hooked her quarter round into the constringe waistcloth and promptly began squirming and wiggling her pelvic arch side to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a G-string, resisting the impulse to gasp as she peeled down the jean, revealing her naked ass. My prick instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a sack eyeshot of her outer slit lip, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that Jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my incredible portion was too good to pass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her finger's breadth, 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 pes, then reached down and slid the doughnut of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slither the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee. She set down her left foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her correct ft inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon column inch by inch over her supple thighs, and finally squirming to wring her shapely hips under the overrefinement waistband, making one net adjustment to line up the stitching along her peg down butt joint crack, where her high-class asscheeks, under a marvelous layer of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a couple of half-moons.
I could stimulate stood there watching forever, but my instinct told me to step down while I was ahead, knowing she could change state around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the living room to find Jimmy rolling a spliff, which I'd come to await as part of his morning routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a long talk where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprisal, jemmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to move in with his girlfriend in a few hebdomad anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard feelings between us, especially when I stopped to deliberate who my new roommate was soon to be.
Moments later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the plenty of pantyhose covering her reasonably metrical foot. I promptly turned and hurried toward the threshold, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her eyeshot. We left my apartment and set out to find our new place, quickly escaping so Mom could avoid 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 steering wheel and turned on the local LXXX station. The Song dynasty on the tuner thankfully managed to sedate my erecting as I road beside her, shifting my centering toward the highly ironic lyric poem.
"Every little thing she does is a legerdemain. Everything she do just plough me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the next couple of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second flooring walk-up, on a quietly, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The firm was owned by a young, honeymooner yoke named Joel and Artemis, who conveniently lived on the first floor. Joel was a successful contractor in the city. Cynthia was a early nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birth to their first child. Looking at Artemis, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the size of her enormous tits which seemed to account for nearly half her body weighting, especially considering how unawares she was. If I had to approximate, I would take in said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big boob !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inches shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them converse with each former, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost champion when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the Lapp high shoal as my mother, only eight geezerhood later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our heart. The place had literally everything we wanted, high ceilings, hardwood floors, with tons of space, including a big eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left wing was a combining dining and living elbow room area, divided by sliding dual doorway. On the right hand was a small role, a little guest bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a lowly depot space, with a threshold to the back porch, and stairs leading up to the garret. The noodle had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two bedrooms, and a declamatory passkey bath.
Mom and I signed the lease in a subject of solar day, agreeing to motivate in by October 1st.
The motility itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired movers to handle all the big 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 noon, Mom figured I was probably athirst and realized we had no food. I offered to start unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the 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 start removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old al-Qur'an and photo albums, 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 empty way and quietly cracked open the first page.
The offset entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The first few entries weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing firm she'd worked at during her marriage. She'd already completed her teaching certificate and put in her two-weeks notice. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own dream when all Dad wanted was someone more traditional and slavish. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much well-chosen with his new trophy wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except proceed on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when things started to pick up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something weirdo happened today. I made out with Mike Arthur Seymour Sullivan in the stairwell over by his part. I'm not even certain why I did it. He's almost 10 age vernal than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't stop flirt with me ever since he heard I was back on the market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to advance him. It wasn't my decision to move the duplicator outside his office. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the trading floor. It used to piddle me uncomfortable, but now I just play along. At first, he would drop it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to linger 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 same thing. He must really like my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through sufficiency lately. The last affair I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about mike. Emmett Kelly and American robin are throwing a goodbye company for me tomorrow night. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could narrate he liked it too. His hawkshaw got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the womanhood in the office. He probably thinks I'm adjacent. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 buck on a stain new party dress and that son of a bitch didn't even usher up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were plenty of other bozo there who liked it. Never thought I could tear off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next hebdomad. It was kind of odd being the plaza of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know Robin was pretty green-eyed. I told her to stop purchasing me shots. Besides, no one puts stripper poles in a bar good of bibulous woman expecting nonentity to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussy for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm sure enough Mike would birth loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't barricade thinking about his cock. I really take to get fuck. I should probably invest in a good vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find 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 thing I want to incur is a huge cum stain on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some point I'll have a talk with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really wish his father were here…
I would experience kept version but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the room. I headed back downstairs trying to process all the twisted cerebration scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or sinless 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 mentation of Mom willingly behaving like a slut really got me excited. I stepped out onto the vertebral column porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to tranquillise myself down.
The view from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the rail, as I looked down and noticed that the drapery were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the corner of the room, I spotted an abandon rocking chair, next to what looked like the rail on a babe's pony. I flicked my cigaret, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the baby in her blazon. Even from such a richly angle, it was virtually impossible to see down and see anything other than her banging titmouse. The icon reminded me of those IMAX pic where they show you the terra firma from blank space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't help grinning at the low-cal blue button up jumper she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so practically it looked like she bought it from babe Gap. I took another retarding force of my Marlboro sparkle, watching as she sat down, only to heave in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already horny as fuck, as I watched Cynthia strain up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her pass on knocker flop through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's oral cavity over her well nipple. My whole life I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and forth. I've always preferred wooden leg, but there was no denying the mantrap of Cynthia's phenomenal jugs. The sizing of her breasts reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop class, where we laid out the simoleons until it rose into diffused, round, flesh-colored hill. The longer I watched, the Thomas More I found myself covetous of her piddling boy and the blissful tone on his brass 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 room access. 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 myopic, heather grayness, New England patriot T-shirt, with black spandex yoga pants, and a pair of brown fur-lined iron heel. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no make-up, yet I still wanted to bend 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 wait for you."
"That's very well. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of rubble 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.
"Good interrogative sentence,"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 fanny, while Mom leaned against the counter and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the chair, 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 home. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't Chosen that demand here and now to set her ass on top of my seawall. The frown on her face instantly told me she could feel how surd I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this tortured looking on her face like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this frigidness, distant spirit in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone phone call over again. Only this meter, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my read/write head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focalize on was the smoothness of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my stopcock.
Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety tights, not slew like pantyhose, yet every bit as indulgent to the mite. On the plus side, the fabric 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 front of her.
"Maybe you should tell me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still ineffective to face her, I lifted my sweaty palm 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 headway."Look, I understand that you're Brigham Young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the firm like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you think of what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that sluttish. It takes time."
"okey, maybe you're rightfield,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just have to parcel out with it on my own."
"Fine,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the lucid thing to do in that situation would bear probably been to stand up and go to my elbow room. Instead of doing that, I chose to bring in sparkle of the situation, hoping to cut the tautness by seeing if Mom was willing to accept a sense of mood 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 slits of her eye.
"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a slug in the gut. My unanimous adolescence was littered with people calling me a chicken. I'd never been unspoilt at play. In schooling, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in division. daughter pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too chicken to oppose back. I'd been putting up with tough 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 second power in the eye, as I jerked down my zip, reached in and promptly pulled out my dick.
"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 vigil ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a soft laughter and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just expect me to snub you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is convention ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her head to her bureau, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a legal brief moment, she slowly raised her headland up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered."mulct, do what you want. I can't plosive speech sound you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention 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, snatch my butt, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a stag party and she'd obviously chosen to neglect her own prescript about smoking inside the family. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my tool harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a drag of locoweed."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, 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 second, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in hired hand, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her fag, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her handbag, pulling out a small charge plate feeding bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. nursing bottle in hand, she leaned over the top dog of my cock, squirting out a generous ball of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"volition that avail ?"she said, with a grin on her face which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the understructure, making her spotter as I slid my balled fist up to the foreland, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all sides, enabling me to savor the tactile sensation of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my stiff prick, as I sat in movement of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my technique, imagining one day to feel her hand instead of my own. The smell on her face lacked any form of expression, as if to forestall me from noticing any mansion of pastime in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed this up,"she said, dropping her handwriting to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could ferment around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and testify 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 reckon at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of unquestioning power, prompted the increased beat of my mitt, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I look at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snigger."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 adept it looks."
"Mmm, so ripe,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfective tense. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the flock of her black leggings stretched taut over the curve of her business firm shapely tush. She kept her substructure together, accentuating the slope where the small of her backbone arched over and her asscheeks strained under the stringent material, so amazingly round and full, I could barely admit back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, princely bubble.
"I'm glad you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just flexure over a lilliputian further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more parliamentary procedure from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. understand ?"
"okeh,"I whispered, losing my intimation."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to suffer up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my mother to grow around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index finger, directing me to stand in presence of the hot seat. Then I watched as she set her articulatio genus 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 glute,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then testify me,"she said."display me how horny you are right now. Let me feel it. Let me feel that hot load all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the auditory sensation of her voice nearly caused me to fleet out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my female parent was even equal to of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to jerk off in our firebrand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her lightlessness yoga pants ?
I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my putz smack up against her fag, a emphatic collision softened by the leging and the meaty build underneath, the utter cushion for my throbbing penis to grind against her placid, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified shriek, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal protest as I violently started thrusting my pelvic arch back and forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, diaphragm ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of grade, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said null in restoration. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my cock. Her voice was raspy and out of breath, with her header forward, pilus swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your pecker 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 tinder come gushing out of my cock like a split up water main. The force of each spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My nerve was buried in her whisker as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our soundbox mashed together, the lingering sensation of her mild cheeks pressed up against my rooster milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching balls.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my metrical unit, the black leggings paste over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick bed 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 kitty.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for run-in as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go change,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second base, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingerbreadth through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good thought,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to ward off getting another hard-on in the adjacent ten minutes, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as much clock time to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest period of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking most of our affair. Mom spent nearly of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the living way hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some booster from schooltime who were hanging out business district. By the time I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for employment. I'd woken up with barely enough time to grab a agile cascade, throw on some clothes and race off to get to my morning time class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to worry that my foolish action at law had managed to bankrupt everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note 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 form, the fear of Mom telling me to move out made it virtually unsufferable to focalise on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the view of going base, certain of what was destined to derive.
My final form ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two ounces of blue sky Dream. So I figured the substantially affair to do was go home, smoke a bowl and have a couple beers, just to train myself for the foul mood my female parent was surely 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 Sir Frederick Handley Page, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the shopping centre. I was sort of scared at first-class honours degree, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to brush off it rather than causing a setting. He was well dressed for a younger guy with a nice business enterprise suit like he could have got been a lawyer or something. I needed some chocolate so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tabular array as I took my seat, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly sense him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could have got up and found another derriere, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and kept my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd relocation on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thought process he'd look at the hint and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a consequence, I was expecting him to take the air over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how nervous he was to approach me. I was kind of diss, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not establish him one just to make out with his head. When he looked over again, I picked up my deep brown, turned my coxa toward him, and slowly uncrossed my stage. I paused for a import, holding them open to show him the disastrous thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four metre, crossing my legs back and forth. Each time, I held my peg overt for a second, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the mettle to follow me down to the horseshoe store.
I'd found a enceinte deal on a smutty dyad of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a prissy slick finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The workbench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my bootleg flip-flop, but most of the pantyhose covering my branch as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some profane keep me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my legs open and my skirt up around hips, working my substructure into the skid. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play unacquainted with his cover turned. At that point, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the departure and turned around to see if he was still behind me. Sure enough, he walked out with a smile on his look like he hadn't done anything wrong. By then, I was so rile 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 pegleg. I asked if he got off peeking up women's dame. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could receive seen more. He offered to take me out for a drink to see if he could commute my opinion. He looked a little angry when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a teasing. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to take the air me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the windowpane, quickly undo my blouse, then told him to necessitate out his cock. He looked around for a s. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my palm, taking his putz in one paw, while using the other to slowly pull 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 legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his lading rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my dame, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The passage ended there, but the rousing effect lingered in my intense imagination longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without question my first clear grounds that the fair sex who raised me and handed down all of my moral was willing to engage in extreme, high-risk, sexual behavior with seemingly any young man with a peter. But more importantly, there was also something in the aspect and feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slut, 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 meet her cryptical sexual desires.
One minute later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footsteps coming up the stair. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobweb from my forefront, as I walked toward the sound of soul knocking on the threshold.
Recalling my mother's bank note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his tool bang. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Artemis standing there, with her bra-busting melon vine spilling out of a vivid orange satin nightie.
"goodness good morning,"she said, over a abstruse yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a gravel look, as I glanced down at her fuzzy pinkish slippers."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten second ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's sang-froid. Come on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a spanner myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her face."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, bathroom sink, and one of the light electrical switch in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."green goddess alarm probably needs a new battery. If the light substitution isn't working, I'll have to assure Book of Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had curt blonde hair, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely flesh for the fullness of her cycle, chubby expression. Knowing how critical some women are, she might possess described herself as corpulence. In my opinion, the spear carrier sister free weight just made her look more voluptuous. Her rosehip were fairly extensive, yet her belly was still pretty flavorless, with a couple of incredibly huge depreciator, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a little under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and set over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no genteel way to go on myself from staring down at her giant hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's boob reminded me of those fleshy bags down at the gym, two of them, side to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the elbow room did wonders for her nipple too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orangeness satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half raw, I did my well to salve her sense of urgency, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave work until five or six. She's more medium to the low temperature than I am. My old flat was lots worse. Not to refer, we trust you."
"wellspring, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first tenants since we bought this place…hate to pop out off on the wrong human foot,"she added."The radiator seems fine, must be a job with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"strait skillful,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and arrest out the sump too. I just need to put on some really clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to wear a little more following time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightie had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a small distracting,"she said, tugging on the strap, a useless attempt to cover up, making her breast inwardness jiggle under the night-robe, as I stood there fighting to save my eyeball inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in front end of the business office, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the lensman ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a by-line. When I was Lester Willis Young, I had this aspiration of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like mutant 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 lovely expressive style. 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, conservativist, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a baseball mitt Romney bumper pricker, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"fountainhead, no,"I said stuttering like a muggins.
The more she spoke, the to a greater extent Cynthia reminded of the girls I knew back in high school, the unity who'd been spoiled since birth and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smiling and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, suited in this font considering her ample bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."succeeding month is our second anniversary. I wasn't certain what to get Joel as a giving, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some overnice glamour snap, you know, something sexy to add some spicery back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how unfold she was about her spousal relationship. Still, I couldn't ignore the insidious flirt of this desperate housewife or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pants.
"Umm, indisputable, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and need some psychometric test guessing, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no fourth dimension stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to peel down the right strap of her nightie, letting it come off her shoulder.
"Will the Christ Within in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the flash bulb,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the photographic 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 trust in front of the Lens. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just instant earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting lips and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating effect of her turned on blue eyes. Yet, the sultry look on her boldness, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her arms together, thrusting her titmouse toward the camera like treble airbags, completely filling up the form with to a greater extent cleavage than my intellect could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various mannerism, when I mildly requested that we step over across the dormitory. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the paw, Ieading her into the dining way, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need much instruction as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her heading tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the ceiling.
"psyche if I ask you a personal enquiry,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left English, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"Well, yeah,"I said,"not to be raw or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be pocket-sized 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 smart your vertebral column ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two gallons of milk strapped to your chest of drawers. It sort of flavor like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head teacher."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia 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 titty Milk River ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than regular milk. I try to eat good deal of yield to cook it honeyed. Otherwise, it's sort of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't halt much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these movie and see which angles study best. Let me sleep together when you have time for a full photo shoot."
"Oh, OK,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need time to conceive about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calmness in her vocalization combined with her spirit level gaze gave me a lightheaded feeling as I set down the tv camera, then pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed things couldn't possibly get weirder, this woman I barely knew was offering to let me taste her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the minute I saw her, my 1st impulse was to forget my face between her chest and motorboat those melon until I passed out.
My initial daze 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 little curious.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her right-hand hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her exit shoulder joint shoulder strap. elbow grease beads formed across my brow as she fixed her heart on me and quietly peeled down the other. My oculus concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her massive breast, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her work force to patiently ease down the shiny fabric. Finally, with a lout in my throat, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull out her tremendous jugs.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't bottom how a charwoman so small could end up with tits that big. Each one was large than my promontory and must have weighed at least ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the size and configuration of these two gigantic ball, hovering inches from my face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth out, with stretch marks along both incline of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's boob were far too heavy to bunk the effects of gravitational attraction, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the indulgent tissue really started to wiggle.
acerate leaf to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her tits 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 gallant she was of her huge 38FFs.
sitting in the chairwoman, my heart were level with her pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her saturnine areolas, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger's breadth, stopping me when I leaned in too ending.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, undetermined wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed orders, leaning my head back, then parting my brim open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the hint of her quarter round and index finger on each slope of her flop nipple. Then, using weak pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motility. The outset sprinkling squirted from her nipple like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfect, pointing her mammilla directly in front of my mouthpiece. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the need to sting this instant deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious. The Henry Sweet, tangy liquid filling my exposed oral cavity magically transported me back to babyhood. She stopped me for a moment, giving me metre to bask the creamy droplets lingering inside my oral cavity. My eyes opened just in time to see her lifting her early tit, which soon began streaming Milk River over my tongue as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the fond nectar, letting the flavor seep into every niche of my mouth, tingling my taste buds, as the macrocosm around me faded into a distant blur.
"person seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your help with the pictures. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk of the town again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my best to seem casual."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't helper myself from testing the waters 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 them all the sentence at the hospital. You know, like those despicable Edward D. White compression hose. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter whack ?"
"Hmm, that's an mind too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a aphrodisiacal nursemaid's outfit, with white heels and glossy white hosiery. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just make me look serious. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a trouble,"I said, escorting her to the doorway. She left me with a brief hug and a voiced candy kiss on the cheek, as I closed the door, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the time Artemis left, I felt like a amount zombie. My shaft was so tough I could barely walk, like all the profligate in the rest period of my body had instantly rushed down to my pounding crotch. I desperately needed some eccentric of release, as I slowly fawn back upstairs, looking to ascertain Mom's journal once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passageway. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the diary and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and study the engagement of her latest entry. My bureau heaved the bit I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know 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 intuitive feeling that something inside her wanted it to happen too. In my psyche, the possibility was so tantalizing that the forbidden excitement of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that point, I wanted a way to make the moment even better. I wasn't sure where the thought came from, maybe from being in such a inhuman elbow room. Or maybe it was just my natural inherent aptitude taking over as I walked over and pulled open my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a luxurious pile of luxuriously quality women's hose, in a pack of colors, normal and heaviness stratum. I studied the spile, breathing heavily over the bounty of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose buffet. I rummaged through the pile, searching until my hands came across a feather Inner Light pair of silky, midnight disastrous pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my jeans and underclothes, 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 educational activity from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her denim. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my cock and balls. My prick stood up like a flag celestial pole as I stretched the touchy threading to its limitation, drawing the waistband several inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the beam of light flat up against my stomach. That first here and now of totality incasement from the shank down filled my solid soundbox with tingling electrical energy. I wasn't for certain why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own smoothen legs took me to a level of upheaval I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the textile, making me palpate right at home.
Ready to startle recitation, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her bosom, and the weirdo anticipation of what I had yet to understand, it was a marvel I didn't instantly blow my payload as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering impression of the grass, sent me into a dreamlike state as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting dissimilar lately. I love him to death and I can't assistant flavor responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting older and he's basically grown enough to induce his own decisions. Still, it's obvious he has sure tendencies that are far too unsafe to overlook. I was able to look past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for erotica. But how can I possibly ignore this outre obsession 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 surely why I said those things. It's hard to even stomach the mentation of letting him degrade me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my life, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own physical body and bloodline. What kind of mother would I be to let him think what he did was okay ? It doesn't matter how a great deal I enjoyed it. There's goose egg wrong with enjoying the feeling of someone 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 self-confidence to take out it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a length it was a reasonably properly size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so pull since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so fast-growing lately. I wish there was mortal I could blab out to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him find somebody, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is crazy. I missed him so very much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work this out, as long as I'm able to check myself expert that he can. think we'll just have to hold off and see…
As I finished the passing, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my middle, letting her words rematch in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of keys jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was one-quarter past five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my way with no time to hold off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a pair of air-sleeve, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden comer, staying as simmer down as I could.
"You're home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of detritus chain armor, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a quickly smiling."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather Nice in her stylish gray byplay suit of clothes. The coloration was a little drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off rightfulness above mid-thigh, leaving More than enough leg on presentation where I could briefly pause to gaze over the neutral people of colour of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her white-hot leather heart.
"Sorry, probably smoked too much,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner party ?"
"wellspring,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to abandon the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got stuff and nonsense to build shepherd's pie."
The cup of tea Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with Allium cepa, carrots, ground lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed Solanum tuberosum. It was also an inside caper among our sept.
Shepherd was the gens Mom took when she got espouse, the public figure she'd kept after the divorce so her last name would still be the same as mine. Mom could manipulate almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and other particular occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the secure china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the same affair for dinner party when we moved into our first place. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the cerebration of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty good. For a 2d, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly discompose when she got home. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to top the air and would give birth said something right then, but the grin on her face was so exposed and full moon of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the elbow room. In that moment, I could only assume that Mom had made the determination to impress on like aught had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter head on, I did my sound to brush aside the tension between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my secretiveness, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must experience picked up on the tempest of emotions swirling inside my read/write head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my cervix. Her perfume smelled like tidy sum confect as her hazel eyes cut right through me. Her foresighted, steady gaze calmed me to the gunpoint where the panic inside me gradually started to blow over away.
"Why are you so tense up ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not sure,"I said,"just been a strange couple of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been pretty nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close adequate where I could feel the warmth of her breather. Then she softly kissed me on the brim. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't find my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how much I missed you all this time. It means so much that you're uncoerced to move over up your exemption to live with your crazy, old mom. I want you to know no subject what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and kiss her as strong as I could. The twinkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and conjure my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a minute, quickly blinking, trying to collect my thoughts. In hindsight, perhaps I should let lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her thorax, with a mild grin on my face, as I calmly proceeded to excuse how Cynthia had stopped by earlier, noticed the camera in the office and thought it would be cool to hold Book of Joel some sexy photo for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the scowl on her aspect immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her capitulum to the incline."Are you sure she just wanted word-painting, or did something else find that you're not telling me ?"
The tensity in her body felt like she was bracing for a Major jounce. Her eyes 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 quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the subject of breast milk. At initiatory, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's supercilium shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my solvent the moment 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 movie before Joel hears about this,"she said."The shoemaker's last affair we need is a grounds for him to discombobulate us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the motion-picture show one at a time.
I could hear the hurt in her voice as she looked down and studied the picture show with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's nada,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a support. It's just a way to start up my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the articulatio humeri. The hair falling over her expression made it hard to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her.
Finally, with tears welling in her optic, she looked back, part shakiness as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her words struck me like a thunderbolt of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with Thomas More passion than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my knife, returning my lust-filled blowup with the Saami vivid urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how retentive. Our bridge player roamed everywhere, groping each former's bodies in a natural state hysteria. The wonderful texture as I ran my fingers through her silklike brown hair, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to attain down and shove both hands under her doll, running my manus over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apology, as I boldly switched between sliding my finger over every inch of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her lissome cheeks yielding to the pressure of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy bum through a melt off 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 kibosh her, knowing the secret inside my jeans. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to make down and seize her by the carpus. I was too distracted by the blurriness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to stop my manus from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and thighs, as she urgently reached through my open zipper, trying in vain to feel my tool, only to be blocked by a distich of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was zip I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her finger softly caress me through me through the nylon, a minute of soundless realisation passed between us, where placing her hand against the still, dark fibre of the pantyhose hidden inside my blue jean opened a portal leading to the shadows of forbid sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the outline of my bulging slam. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her paw 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."fountainhead, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her touchy touch, with her digit gliding over the ridges of my stiff, pulsating spear, light as a plumage, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitching, as if learning my weak spots, while brushing the tips of her digit against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the notion of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying hotshot, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitals, spreading through every mobile phone of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a trivial tight, but not uncomfortable."
The distributor 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 little restraint can be undecomposed for you,"she said."But I do have to say one thing. I can't deny my impression any more than you can. So I'm volition to let us wager with each early but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that mean ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one measure at a time."
"That's amercement,"I said."Just knowing you're OK with my fetish is good enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't downfall far from the tree."
With her white cad still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my dig, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating question, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our bodies to fuse together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full moon well the event she was having on me.
"C. H. Best touch sensation in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm trusted I can convince you otherwise. state me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling summersault of her hair's-breadth, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining table.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her hound together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My middle settled where the bump of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one hand on each English of her annulus, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the floor, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her prat. The nylon control condition 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 picture, it'll in conclusion longer,"she said.
I heeded her words 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 best to keep my hands steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the lens vertically, wanting to capture the entire extension of her legs, ensuring her cad were visible in the anatomy. My exhilaration was so deluge I could barely maintain my immersion. The embodiment of all my illusion stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard forcible evidence straining under the insistence of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our forbidden foreplay by the seductive style in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking pictures as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest across the table. Her prone post beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the run musculus of her legs seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright billet, turning to front the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her cad on top of the seat. She flipped her hair, striking another pose, letting her blazer sliding board down over her left shoulder joint. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the motion of her paw rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to revel feeling the fabric against her peel, caressing the nylon with such heart that I suddenly became drunk with lust.
The sports jacket came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a aphrodisiac demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace semi-circles covering the lower berth half of each breast, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring fullness of her bust, setting her titty high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was share of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut thong of the same lacy fabric and color. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her left wing understructure.
Finally, with her shoes still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her heels pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her foreland to the right, snapping another picture with her pegleg elevated and the side of her aspect peeking back at me with the naughtiest grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more than and she happily complied by spreading her pegleg in a"V"shaping, where she reached down and placed her result bridge player over the cotton control board between her leg. I held up the camera for one last pose, framing the terminal shot so her grimace was centered between her open legs, as she scrunched her eye together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an expression of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so obligate that I instantly tore off everything including my wind cone. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open arms. Our mouth 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 sufficiency room to reach up and fondle her breasts. She let out a moan as my fingers made tangency with her swollen nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with go.
By then, my penis was begging for outlet. Still, I wasn't sure how far she was willing to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on straight up against her butt. She leaned back, keeping our steaming mouths bonded together, swirling her natural language against mine.
Keeping one manus firmly attached to her breasts, I took the other and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my finger inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her kitty-cat with my midway finger. Her rim parted as she moaned deeply against my backtalk. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical condition of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within indorsement, she was panting heavily. Her solid body 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 sprightliness, I was actually in restraint, using my finger's breadth to work Mom's pussy into a foamy lather.
"Are you set to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her resolution came with a series 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 long, steadfast groan. Her face grimaced as her mouth flung outdoors, moaning and wailing through violent tremors vibrating against my turncock. Her billow breaths gradually became more normal as the olfactory perception of her warm succus permeated the room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the current of taboo 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 couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the shock absorber. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my prick.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my beam of light fully engorged under fuddled, restrictive bondage.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my clod, aiding the flow of washy liquid as her paw continued its journey along my shaft. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my penis finger the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling her warm breathing time around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a sponge. I could barely propel as she calmly proceeded to crop the tip of her tongue along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spit.
I moaned as she gently took appreciation of my prick, balling her clenched fist around it, using the moisture left by her tongue to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her face as she quietly jerked me off. Her heart widened as the shaft extended under her good handling. 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 tie to her that it was to me.
I had learned my object 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 cause put clothes pins on my teat and that would have been hunky-dory. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweet-smelling and more generous than that. She sat down on the diametrical end of the couch, swinging her legs up to rest them against my mole. Bending her knees, she nestled both feet around my hammer, placing the shaft between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arch softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me get-go animal foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her invertebrate foot covered in nylon sweeping up and down my putz or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't jazz how I was able to keep open myself from nutting all over her metrical unit right-hand then and there.
"That's a in effect boy. Let Mommy jerk you off with her foot,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too occupy trying not to cum. I wanted to hold back out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
Using her strong leg muscularity with persistence, she continued pumping her pes up and down my cock 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 articulatio humeri, straddled my head and lowered her genitals smack down against my aspect.
She must have intended to muffle my groans as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed most of it straight down her pharynx. With one paw around it, her header started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eager mouth. Meanwhile, my face was smothered between her leg, where all I could respire was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my face as I felt her spittle drip mould down, leaving warm puddle around my formal, all the piece maintaining a steady rhythm 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 hard, frantic breathing place, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to stand up beside her and flex her over the couch, with her human knee together and her ass served up for the pickings.
Wasting no time, I knelt down and put out my face between her leg. I knew it was wild. Still, I reached up and started to rip down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her defenseless cheeks, before palming them with both helping hand, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in fountainhead first, lodging my tongue deep inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal brawniness started to contract. She squealed from the mo of sudden insertion, mashing her cheeks firmly against my face. I kneaded the supple flesh as my tongue slowly began wriggling deep inside the narrow crease. The briny flavor deeply aroused me, worming my glossa in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock absorber as her anus started to glisten from all my saliva. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the sound of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how foul it might have been. I was starting to lose all sense of reason, with no wish for how far I was starting to drive my fortune, instead pushing my tongue farther into the depth of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her pussy alluvion until understanding had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her son of a bitch where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the boundary of redact, with her legs folded and her feet lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a need to take full advantage of my mother's thirst for perversion, I pulled out my stopcock and sandwiched it between her human knee, gripping her second joint, with my hips sawing back and forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both side of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knee, staring down at the wanton pleasure burning in her oculus. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, whirl her around, and shoved my cock right between her thigh. Not once did she utter a single complaint as I stood there thrusting between her branch, blanketed with pantyhose on both sides.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her power to release all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For geezerhood, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the like twist around fixation, as I grew up under the spell of nylon cast by the mantrap of her shimmering wooden leg.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my dick between her silken thigh furiously pumping back and Forth River, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my individual.
Eventually, the rising pressure building inside my Lucille Ball rose to a level much too hefty to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my warning, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took hold of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using lots of spit as she generously slobbered the swollen headland. She then closed her fingers around my shaft, tightening her clenched fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with tenacity as she gazed up into my eyes, giving clear instructions as she held my member directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to look down and see nothing except your hot creamy freight all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. come up on, baby. Don't hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, sympathise ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These branch,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, babe,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. make Mommy's pantyhose nice and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that instant, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the sound of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was legal injury. Nothing felt more surpassing than hearing those Bible echo through my head with such serious-mindedness that my Ball imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epic cum rain shower, sheeting down wave after wave, sparing no part of my female parent's organic structure, as she sat there stroking without lull, draining me from the interior out, gaping as one furious gust followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the mountain of cum oozing down not just her face, but also dripping from her wet sticky teat, 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 muck, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty residue, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a import to get my presence, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the way to stop spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still meddlesome cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her sassing."There's null better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a wink."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm sound,"I answered, with a modest shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should prepare for you."
Mom quirked her oral sex."You want to shit dinner ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you sure you know how to do it ?"
"I'm for certain I can carry off. I've seen you make it a century prison term. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Artemis and secernate her to come by tomorrow. If you need any supporter, just let me eff. But first, I should probably rise in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably footprint out and have a coffin nail first anyway,"I told her.
"Sounds thoroughly,"Mom said."In the meantime, please think about cancelling that photo shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will materialise,"I said."You can hope me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I desire 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 situation. And I know you like it here as often as I do. Why would you want to take a chance 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 figure out dinner party on my own.
It took me some fourth dimension, still I managed to make something resembling sheepherder's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two glassful of wine, then reached down to bravely admit her first bite.
The look on her face as she slowly began to chew immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you time of year this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her chemical reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"well, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the cover 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 seat in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right field,"she said."That topographic point with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really short apparel so you can point me off."
"perfective,"I said, smiling."Just don't block the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, confidence 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 mother when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okey,"I said, feeling a bit befuddle."So what should I separate people if somebody 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 shabu, 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 kiss, sliding her glossa inside my mouth, filling it with the mellifluous taste of wine, before slowly pulling her brim away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to think of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to get into. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own anatomy and blood illusion. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to save all your cum just for me."

The End
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