Shepherd's Pie
By Earth Angel

It all started when I was 10 old age old, the twelvemonth my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only nipper to give his obsession with M Theft automobile blindsided by his first crush.
I had just started junior high, where they made us read boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too untested to understand the risk of forbidden lust, yet old enough to notice how my mother would often do the sexiest things without knowing it.
Things might have been different had my mother been more willing to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally keep abreast at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my free time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more peculiar trend.
She had an extensive skid collection, to the highest degree of which were high heels. She loved wearing dog so much that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the business firm, by practicing in unseeable stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drunkenness anything without a shuck. If she was sitting at home leveling papers, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about athletics. She just enjoyed wearing her fitted NJ and a twain of tights, rooting for whichever squad had the gelded field general.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her sass together and gently blow until it was gone. The feeling excited me so a good deal that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the clock time I finished high-pitched school, I was so used to being by my mother's incline that leaving for college less than an hr away filled me with highly flux emotions due to all the astonishing retentivity left behind.
By my third year at Ralph Waldo Emerson, the gaud of living away from household had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more solitary and homesick, with no young woman and only a few manly Friend to aid shoot down the ennui.
One drear afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the Amytal, with the radical idea of finding a new flat for us to live together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with tenacious, run, chestnut brown hair, hazel oculus, bland cheeks and tightfitting lips set between her oval chin and the downwardly tip of her nozzle.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her gloriole daylight of mellow school gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for balance ray of light. Still, she kept her body in rattling Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe, wearing trendy outfits that proudly displayed her pert breasts, plastered ass, and safe of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my mother was the hottest fair sex I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so often that it soon developed into a replete blown fixation. I tried my near to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to worry that I seemed to have no pursuit in other girls.
I had just started college two eld earlier, so the opinion of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a tone backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, podgy apartment. My roomie was a total pig. Yet, in spite of the worry, and as a good deal as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and parting of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was bore to spend my junior year getting hammered every nighttime and screwing as many co-ed as potential. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the same tightly fitting kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and hit awkward jape around daughter my own age, to the head where even the ugly I started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my ducky motion-picture show of her on my cellphone phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden impulse to rub one out and nothing made me cum profligate than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as foresighted as I could remember I had always been captivated by my mother's legs. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up issue planning to learn marketing at a nearby community of interests college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their skirt. By that time, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many years. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this BASIC factor of her casual business sector attire distinctly brought out the remarkable knockout and dimension of her farseeing, sinuous leg.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that time, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to interrogate why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first place. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their spellbinding consequence immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary unmentionable was imbued with sinful great power luring my optic to linger over the lissom pure tone of her lean, slender calfskin, moving up to the meaty flesh of her house sculpted second joint, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her hips, topped by a set of red-hot round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering threads of nylon.
Though I'd long leave the very first time that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one matter that never left me was an urgent impulse to reckon down and gaze over the dazzling aura emanating from her legs. From the bottom of all her suddenly bird, down to the tips of her toes, each pair she wore had the major power to enthrall me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at dwelling house waiting for her to walk in and quetch off her aphrodisiacal heels. My dreamy eyes followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the tender luminescence of her shining pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the more I became heroic to feed my growing obsession at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't unusual for me to force out my camera and get her to pose for me out in public. She'd always been the type of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing interest in picture taking. Eventually, I managed to collect dozen of painting, all of which focused on her hanker, gorgeous branch. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to refer being her son.
My pet delineation for jerking off were the unity that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her ramification. Before teaching, working in corporate America had given her many days to rise this special accomplishment. As a trained professional, she was far too elegant to take one leg and carelessly flop it over the early.
Instead, with her head word up and her perky breasts pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, sail her deal under her skirt, then with full annexe, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her brake shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, slick fore, the alcoholic configuration visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly liquid gesture, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously everlasting alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my dick throb audition that elusive swish.
Deep down, I knew it was improper. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the red-hot woman on Earth. Her vocalization alone sent chills down my spine, with the perfect diction and dignified control of a well-trained, highly confident educator, with only the slim tracing of a distinctive New England accent mark.
Despite being over XL, her nutritious dieting and friendly demeanor gave her a youthful glow. She barely ate more than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two knot every forenoon. While it was clearly a positive affair, her goodly modus vivendi only encouraged my physical draw to continue edifice and suit more hefty each day.
Her bra size was an average 34-B. Yet, her modest chest of drawers proudly stood out in demarcation with her petite waistline, jutting from the flimsy fabric of her tight blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to imagine she still had motive. Yet, to my fix knowledge, after the divorce, she had no men in her life. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much time worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had fourth dimension to date. She should take in had fling lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might deliver been somewhat biased by my own forbidden infatuation and my ever increasing lustfulness for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell number flashed up across the filmdom. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her better photograph, taken in Times Square. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black miniskirt, black pumps, and a radiant pair of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the picture show just as Mom walked over to pose following to a tall New York streetlight. It was like she could show my persuasion as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her grimace was only one-half visible under her long hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the photographic camera, flexing her left stifle behind her binding. She stood there holding the pose for several seconds, with one horseshoe playfully lifted off the soil and a grinning on her cheek as bright as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the phone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to find the noisy jangle of knock, 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 urgent in her part that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the last five bit drooling over her aphrodisiacal photos. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dressing table on my go trip home base. She had over a 12. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't poster if I only took one. My pecker was already throbbing. All I could think about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hand, then taking my silky digit and wrapping them gently around my hammer. Naturally, the more she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My term of a contract is up in two months,"she said."I just got a varsity letter that my tear is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can afford that."
"O.K.,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not approve,"she said."I'm going to have to proceed out. I was actually wondering how you'd feel if I moved up to Boston."
At that particular present moment, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so good around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the hazard to be up shut and personal with her amazing ramification again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it very much thought myself. I'm just not indisputable what else I can do."
Again, my judgment drifted off. I lied there trying to suppose what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random doubt 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 legs crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one shoe 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 wee affair easier ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the real reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roomy. And I've never been crazy about the neck of the woods you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a nice blank space for the two of us."
It took me another moment to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the placid velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered finger 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 in use wondering what her disengage hand was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her finger over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at plate ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to know for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's lounge, in good view of anyone walking by.
"semen on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always find work at another campus. Plus we can obtain a spot with more outer space for your tv camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her bird riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to go on myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to babble out to Jimmy about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bond on my roomy, even if our lease was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some priming coat rules,"I added, when I started to realize the freedoms I'd be giving up purely to see her stage every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to take a leak the rules now, huh ? O.K.. Like what ?"
"Nothing major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be for certain we'll respect each other's concealment. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing rib domicile or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your Church Father. You won't have to worry about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was plastered, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, to a greater extent delicate clash to my teasing script solidus.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each other'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 computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's zilch you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the hell,"I said, voicing my annoyance."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her watchword carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a footling bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very handsome. It doesn't make good sense that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's mass of real women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit skittish."I never knew you had such a thing 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 spinal column, by then my head was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the subject to something more exhilarating."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a instant, as I lied there waiting for her resolution. The airlift in her voice told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must have been reading my judgement,"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."
"aplomb,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't wait to see how they look."
"wellspring, you're in fate,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to expect at places in the good morning. You should get with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds in force. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might need to endure something warm."
"Oh, I'll be delicately,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my denim. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a distich,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your dungaree,"I repeated, resisting the urge to moan."I surmise 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 minute or so before I exploded all over my hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just make sure as shooting you tell Jimmy to wear out some pant this time. It's a little ungainly seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a devil."But then again, you can't really blame him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was rule length. The chick I'm wearing today is short than that."
"Well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you keep your scholar from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's kind of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"stop it, Mom. You look neat. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other cleaning lady. We all like to see it."
"Well, it's true,"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 female parent, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal moment. In 19 years, my mother had never asked me a interrogation as directly sexual as that. My glob were practically about to burst. My clenched fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my affected desire to run my hands over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy wooden leg. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an solvent intended to obliterate my honest feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my frontal bone."This is starting to take a Weird turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, evidence me,"she added, with a cheek I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same clip."Seriously, I want to jazz,"she entreat, as I held back what felt like a monumental eruption."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the 1 you look at on those dirty websites ?"
My consistency trembled. I honestly couldn't tell whether she wanted the truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, plosive consonant,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"O.K., amercement,"she said."I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Just recount me one thing. Which component of a woman's consistency do you like most ? Wait, let me pretend, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My scoop option was to advertize back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we overleap it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't hitch there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so arduous 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, stop it. I can't read this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this unhurt idea. It's bad enough you can't ascertain a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the utmost prison term,"I said, starting to lose it."If I really wanted a girl, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one ft in the tomb ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetich I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the clip. I certainly don't want you having intimate thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to state you how inappropriate that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how inappropriate it was. In that second, I honestly didn't charge. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a payback, bent on ruining her pantyhose no affair what, dying to intoxicate every thread with a massive wad of thick greasy spunk, purely out of cattiness.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible retentiveness that triggered my fetish in the first place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing see-through pantyhose with no bird on. I could see her returning from workplace in her black fuck-me pumps, the stale olfactory property 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 visualise the way she smiled as she walked down the street, articulatio coxae switching from English to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the sound of her transfix heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to get along dwelling, flake off off her pantyhose and carelessly fling them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slue my tongue over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My lurid computer storage pushed me right over the bound. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my urge to moan, watching jets of ejaculate blast into the air, surging from the head of my pecker, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my bridge player, while my female parent patiently waited on the early end, with no approximation what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my heedless act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to collect myself, leading with a arduous sigh.
"looking Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be reliable. I wasn't trying to untune you. Maybe we should just advert up now."
"No,"she said, softening her look."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 authoritative decision, I think you should tell me everything. Tell me the truth, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one hand, by saying no, she'd most belike sense that I was lying, which would only make her angry and potentially pamper any chance of us moving back in together. On the former hand, telling the true statement would most probable freak her out so much that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even worse.
Normally, in position like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the first thing I usually did was try to think what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the best way to do her question was to grow it around and ask her a motion of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to redirect."But initiatory I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short breathing spell."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your head. I think if we're going to exist together, then you have to predict to happen a girl and set about living in the real earthly concern. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"goodness,"she said."I'll see you in the morning. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next break of day, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, Black, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a atomic number 47 necklace which failed to keep me from noticing the segmentation swelling over her plunge neckline. Her gamey tight fitting jean sat low on her shapely articulatio coxae, hugging every curve under skin-tight blue jean, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, bleak leather sandals, with lean straps spanning over her nude infantry.
Looking down at the cuff of her dungaree, the first thing I noticed was the commove absence seizure of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my all night tossing and turning in prediction of seeing them the succeeding morning.
My first inherent aptitude was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how concerned she was talking about my voodoo. So the last matter I wanted to do was ring any undue attending to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roommate, jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grin on his face told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshake. For a few proceedings, she and Jimmy stood there making small talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak to me in my room.
I led her back to my sleeping accommodation and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her stopping point duad of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the duad I'd taken from her actor's assistant. So I promptly fished them from the pile of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give her a moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must have been hurrying too lots to realize that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the specify crack, knowing it was wrong, yet still unable to tear my middle from watching her undress.
With her dorsum turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a metre, enjoying the pin-up pot of blue jean smothering her tight round of golf butt joint. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her hands went up to her sides. She hooked her thumb into the constringe waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips incline to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at to the lowest degree a thong, resisting the urge to gasp as she peeled down the jean, revealing her defenseless ass. My prick instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a top panorama of her outer snatch back talk, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jemmy would walk by and see me standing there at any bit. Still, my incredible lot was too in force to devolve up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewellery 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 foot, then reached down and slid the ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slide the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee joint. She set down her left foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her mightily groundwork inside the opposite arm, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon in by in over her svelte thigh, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely hips under the strain waistband, making one final exam adjustment to line up the sewing along her pin down butt crack, where her high-class asscheeks, under a wondrous layer of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could let stood there watching forever, but my inherent aptitude told me to quit while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the living room to find Jimmy rolling a joint, which I'd come to expect as division 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, jimmy took it in footstep, explaining that he had already been planning to actuate in with his lady friend in a few calendar week anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard notion between us, especially when I stopped to deal who my new roommate was soon to be.
Moments later, my lovely mother finally returned from my elbow room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her pretty invertebrate foot. I promptly turned and hurried toward the threshold, hoping to shield my raging erection from her view. We left my apartment and set out to notice our new place, quickly escaping so Mom could keep off jemmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the wheel and turned on the local mid-eighties post. The song on the radio thankfully managed to calm my erection as I road beside her, shifting my direction toward the highly ironic lyric.
"Every little thing she does is a magic. Everything she do just grow me on…"
We then proceeded to drop the following couple of hours going from one ugly, over-priced flat to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, 2nd floor walk-up apartment, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The household was owned by a young, honeymooner couple named Book of Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first base. Joel was a successful contractile organ in the urban center. Cynthia was a former nursemaid turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given nascency to their first off child. Looking at Artemis, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judgment by the sizing of her enormous tits which seemed to account for nearly half her body weight, especially considering how abruptly she was. If I had to estimate, I would receive said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big tits !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inches shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost champion when they quickly discovered that Artemis had graduated from the same high school as my female parent, only eight years later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our optic. The berth had literally everything we wanted, eminent ceiling, hardwood floor, with scads of space, including a declamatory eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left hand was a combination dining and keep room area, divided by sliding double door. On the right wing was a diminished office, a diminished client bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a belittled storage infinite, with a room access to the back porch, and stairs leading up to the attic. The Classical Greek had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two bedrooms, and a great superior bathing tub.
Mom and I signed the lease in a subject of mean solar day, agreeing to travel in by October 1st.
The move itself went fairly legato. 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 minute. Sometime around noon, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no food for thought. I offered to start unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the hand truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and set about removing the item inside. It was mostly packed with old books and photo record album, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, cold, leather-bound journal which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty elbow room and quietly cracked open the beginning page.
The first entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory board served me correctly, it was only six calendar month after my parents'divorce.
The first few entrance weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old merchandising firm she'd worked at during her married couple. She'd already completed her teaching certification 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 ambition when all Dad wanted was someone more traditional and subservient. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much glad with his new trophy wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when things started to pick up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with Mike Sullivan in the stairwell over by his office. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 years young than me. Plus he's so wide of himself, really not my type. He hasn't stop toying with me ever since he heard I was back on the grocery, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to encourage him. It wasn't my decision to move the copier outside his agency. I love how he always comes over and fell his pen on the floor. It used to urinate me uncomfortable, but now I just spiel along. At world-class, he would drop it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my peg for a while. It's pretty funny to follow. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same thing. He must really like my leg. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The last matter I want to do is blockade him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about Mike. Weary Willie and Robin are throwing a good day political party for me tomorrow night. microphone said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His dick got really surd when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the womanhood in the billet. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollars on a brand name new party dress and that son of a bitch didn't even show up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were mess of other cat there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra mark. Maybe I'll wear it again next week. It was variety of odd being the center of aid, but I think I could get used to it. I know robin redbreast was pretty jealous. I told her to stop buying me guessing. Besides, no one puts stripper poles in a bar total of boozy adult female expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my snatch for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm sure mike would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his peter. I really need to get fucked. 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 pantie draftsman. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The conclusion thing I want to find is a Brobdingnagian cum discolouration 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 care his father were here…
I would induce 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 perverted opinion scrambling through my idea. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to delight getting attention from vernal men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a slattern really got me excited. I stepped out onto the punt porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to tranquillize myself down.
The perspective from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the curtains were drawn on our new landlord's sleeping accommodation window downstairs. In the corner of the room, I spotted an empty rocking president, next to what looked like the rail on a babe's crib. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the sister in her sleeve. Even from such a high angle, it was virtually impossible to search down and see anything other than her humongous tits. The image reminded me of those IMAX flick where they show you the Earth from outer space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't avail smile at the illume blue button up jumper she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so a lot it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro Christ Within, watching as she sat down, only to pant in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already corneous as fuck, as I watched Cynthia progress to up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her left breast fizzle through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's mouth over her swollen nipple. My completely lifetime I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth. I've always preferred stage, but there was no denying the peach of Artemis's phenomenal jugs. The size of her breasts reminded me of my 24-hour interval back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dough until it rose into soft, round, flesh-colored pitcher's mound. The recollective I watched, the more than I found myself jealous of her picayune boy and the blissful feeling on his face as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my gumshoe couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front door. 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 shortstop, heather mixture Robert Gray, New England nationalist T-shirt, with disgraceful spandex yoga pants, and a distich of brown fur-lined boots. Her pilus was tied back in a ponytail, with no make-up, yet I still wanted to crouch her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get much done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd postponement for you."
"That's fine. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one death chair in the kitchen. The rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"Good question,"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 seat, while Mom leaned against the counter and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in strawman of the death 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 exact moment to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her case instantly told me she could sense how hard I was. I expected her to stick out right up. Instead, she just sat there for a 2d, looking at me with this torment look on her face like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this low temperature, removed look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone call over again. Only this time, there was no cunning way for me to spin around it. I was far too humiliated to depend her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the blandness of her legging as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leging felt more like velvety tights, not curve like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the contact. On the plus side, the textile 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 unable to front her, I lifted my sweaty medallion and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her head."smell, I understand that you're 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 call back what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girl isn't that comfortable. It takes time."
"OK, maybe you're right field,"she said."So in the lag, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just hold to deal 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 consistent thing to do in that situation would have probably been to stand up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to pass water light of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was bequeath to deliver a sense of sense of humour about the unharmed 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 psyche back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow puss of her center.
"You haven't got the egg to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a clout in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with masses calling me a wimp. I'd never been good at sports. In school, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in class. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny bod, knowing I was too chickenhearted to campaign back. I'd been putting up with yobo for as recollective as I could commemorate. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"Okay, time out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your drawers, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an brow, with a mild gag and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just expect me to brush aside you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is normal ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some spunk,"Mom said, dropping her pass to her chest, before wearily rubbing her frontal bone. After a brief present moment, she slowly raised her headland up, responding with a short-change nod, as she quietly answered."fine, do what you want. I can't check 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 rightfield there. I could give easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch up my cigarettes, and light one up right in battlefront of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to brush aside her own formula about smoking inside the star sign. Still, after clearing a infinite for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my shaft harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in blackened spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a pull of fastball."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any fellow feeling, yet I still felt compelled to explicate why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my manus's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a second, startling me as she sprang up, with butt in hand, as she marched back over toward the retort. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her pocketbook, pulling out a modest credit card bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chairperson where I was sitting. Bottle in manus, she leaned over the brain of my cock, squirting out a generous lump of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"Will that help ?"she said, with a grin on her face which I instantly read as modest amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it gleam from all sides, enabling me to enjoy the feeling of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my inflexible shaft, as I sat in front man of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would contemplate my technique, imagining one day to feel her hired hand instead of my own. The look on her look lacked any manakin of reflexion, as if to prevent me from noticing any signs of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really cannonball along this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to bear on this even further."You could turn around and demo me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and bear witness you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I look at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of unquestioning power, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, 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 snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out LE than three in from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how goodness it looks."
"Mmm, so salutary,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."
My back talk watered at the quite a little of her dim leggings stretched taut over the curve of her business firm shapely tush. She kept her feet together, accentuating the slope where the modest of her rear arched over and her asscheeks strained under the rigorous cloth, so amazingly round and full, I could barely have 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 bend over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more club from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my breath."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to fend up. We're trading places."
With no vacillation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my mother to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index fingerbreadth, directing me to bear in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden ass, 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 pixilated glutes,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then show me,"she said."appearance 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 phone of her voice nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to jerk off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her melanize yoga pants ?
I should have accepted it for the perquisite that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no luck to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my pecker smack up against her cigarette, a forceful collision softened by the leg covering and the meaty frame underneath, the pure cushion for my throbbing member to grind against her still, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified shriek, as I grabbed her by the shank, ignoring her outspoken protest as I violently started thrusting my hips back and forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stopover ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of form, I could pick up her. But I wasn't about to cease, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said null in regaining. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my tool. Her voice was raspy and out of breath, with her psyche forward, hair swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so toilsome. Oh my God, don't occlusive. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me sense your cum !"
In 19 twelvemonth, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk come gushing out of my rooster like a broken body of water main. The forcefulness of each spasm was so crimson that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My fount was buried in her tomentum as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our body mashed together, the lingering sensation of her balmy nerve pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining ejaculate flowing from my aching balls.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my fundament, the black leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a blockheaded stratum of Caucasian creamy foam, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the tornado of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her dampish puss.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for Holy Scripture as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go change,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingerbreadth through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, upright idea,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to fend off getting another erection in the next ten instant, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as much fourth dimension to work on what had just happened as I did. We spent the relief of the day quietly arranging article of furniture and unpacking most of our matter. Mom spent well-nigh of her clock time in the kitchen, while I worked in the life room hooking up our TV and stereoscopic picture. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football game. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some friends from schooltime who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got abode, Mom had already gone to bed.
The side by side morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an abandon house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for body of work. I'd woken up with barely enough meter to snap up a quick shower, throw on some clothes and subspecies off to get to my morning class. It wasn't like her to depart without waking me up. I started to worry that my gooselike actions had managed to ruin everything on our first of all day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a line with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the veneration of Mom telling me to travel out made it virtually impossible to pore on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the view of going home, certain of what was destined to occur.
My final course ended at twelve noon. Fortunately, before moving out, jimmy had kindly given me two ounces of Blue Dream. So I figured the trump thing to do was go base, smoke a bowlful and have a couple beers, just to machinate myself for the foul mood my female parent was sure to be in when she got home.
The mo 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 foundation of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
Dec 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was variety of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a view. He was well dressed for a jr. guy with a nice business sector suit like he could give been a lawyer or something. I needed some deep brown so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tabular array as I took my tail end, 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 encounter another buttocks, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and retain my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a moment, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take away the lead and go away. He must accept thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to take the air over and say something. But the longer he waited, the to a greater extent I realized how nervous he was to set about me. I was sort of insulted, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not turn over him one just to fuck with his headway. When he looked over again, I picked up my umber, turned my coxa toward him, and slowly uncross my leg. I paused for a moment, holding them candid to establish him the black lash I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my pegleg back and Forth River. Each prison term, I held my leg candid for a second, letting him see up my annulus. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to observe me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a great deal on a black twosome of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a prissy glossy finishing. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my black flip-flop, but nearly of the pantyhose covering my pegleg as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert save me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the workbench thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my legs open and my skirt up around pelvis, working my feet into the place. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play inexperienced person with his back turned. At that point, I probably should give confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the horseshoe and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the exit and turned around to see if he was still behind me. Sure enough, he walked out with a grinning on his face like he hadn't done anything wrong. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could aid 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 woman's skirts. He said only cleaning lady who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a slit or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to take me out for a drink to see if he could change my judgment. He looked a niggling raging when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a vexer. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly undo my blouse, then told him to take out his shaft. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his prick out. I spit in my decoration, taking his peter in one helping hand, while using the former to slowly rend 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 stage and instantly started to cum as I watched his warhead rain down across my second joint, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a 1 word…
The passage ended there, but the rouse effect lingered in my bright imagination longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without motion my beginning clear evidence that the women who raised me and handed down all of my morals was unforced to wage in extremum, bad, intimate demeanor with seemingly any Edward Young man with a rooster. But more importantly, there was also something in the looking and feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner adulteress, 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 knack on exposing my mother's dark incline, determined to see how far she was uncoerced to go to satisfy her deepest intimate desires.
One hour 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 stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the gossamer from my capitulum, as I walked toward the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Book of Joel standing there wearing his tool bash. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the room access and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melon vine spilling out of a bright orangeness satin nightie.
"trade good sunrise,"she said, over a deep yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled look, as I glanced down at her blurry pink slippers."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would let come sooner, but I woke up about ten min ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your hubby. But that's cool. hail on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a wrench myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her face."That's actually variety of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a tilt of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, lavatory sink, and one of the light switches in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."smoke alarm probably needs a new bombardment. If the fall shift isn't working, I'll have to tell Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the livelihood way, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had short blond hair, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a adorable frame for the fullness of her troll, chubby face. Knowing how vital some adult female are, she might throw described herself as overweight. In my legal opinion, the extra baby free weight just made her appear more voluptuous. Her pelvis were fairly wide, yet her breadbasket was still pretty flat, with a pair of incredibly huge breast, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a little under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no polite way to continue myself from staring down at her giant hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's tit reminded me of those heavy handbag down at the gym, two of them, side to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonders for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the Orange satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half raw, I did my best to still her sense of importunity, hoping not to blockade her.
"You could stimulate waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave work until five or six. She's more sore to the frigidness than I am. My old flat was much risky. Not to bring up, we trust you."
"wellspring, I'm gladiola you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our start tenants since we bought this place…hate to start up off on the legal injury foot,"she added."The radiator seems o.k., must be a trouble 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 child. I can fix it right after that."
"Sounds adept,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and check out the sink too. I just need to put on some real clothes."
"No rush, always sound to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to wear a little more next meter, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her gown had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the strap, a useless attempt to cover up, making her breast meat jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to keep my eyeball inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the threshold, she paused in battlefront of the office, pointing to the tv camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that well, but it's always been a by-line. When I was young, I had this dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or Playboy,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's poise,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up panache. 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, materialistic, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a Mitt Romney bumper sticker, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"Well, no,"I said stuttering like a sucker.
The more she spoke, the to a greater extent Cynthia reminded of the girls I knew back in high school, the ace who'd been spoiled since nativity and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy temperament, suitable in this typesetter's case considering her plentiful bosom.
"William Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our second anniversary. I wasn't sure what to get Joel as a giving, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some gracious glamour shots, 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 open she was about her wedlock. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle dalliance of this dire housewife or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pants.
"Umm, trusted, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and take some examination injection, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the rampart and slowly proceeded to peel down the decent strap of her night-robe, letting it return off her shoulder.
"Will the ignitor in here workplace for you ?"
"I'll use the flash,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the tv camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the moment the photographic camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her deficiency of shyness, never expecting so much confidence in social movement of the lense. The innocent, gutsy housewife who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting mouth and a venomous come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating upshot of her steamy blue oculus. Yet, the sultry look on her typeface, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her subdivision together, thrusting her tits toward the camera like dual airbags, completely filling up the build with more cleavage than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through several poses, when I mildly requested that we step over across the hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the paw, Ieading her into the dining way, where I then helped her wax up onto the table.
She didn't need practically pedagogy as she stretched out, extending her branch, with her head tilted back, and her chest of drawers pointed up toward the roof.
"head if I ask you a personal question,"I asked, as she shifted over to her result side, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"Well, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be pocket-sized before I got pregnant. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they hurt your back ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to take the air with two gallons of milk strapped to your chest. It sort of feeling like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your teat ? 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 bosom Milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than regular Milk River. I try to eat portion of fruit to make it sweet-flavored. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't halt much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these scene and see which angles body of work best. Let me know when you have time for a good photo shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something legal injury ?"I asked."If you need prison term to think 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 voice combined with her level gaze gave me a airheaded notion 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 char I barely knew was offering to let me taste her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my first impulse was to bury my cheek between her thorax and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial cushion prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must own been something written on my cheek which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little funny.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her decent mitt slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder strap. Sweat bead formed across my forehead as she fixed her optic on me and quietly peeled down the other. My eye concentrated mainly on the Orange satin covering her monolithic breast, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently allay down the shiny cloth. Finally, with a hunk in my throat, I looked on intently as Artemis managed to pull out her enormous jug.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't bottom how a cleaning lady so minuscule could end up with knocker that big. Each one was larger than my head and must take weighed at to the lowest degree ten quid, as I sat there entranced by the size and shape of these two gigantic world, hovering inches from my face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with stretch bull's eye along both position of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's tits were far too fleshy to fly the coop the effects of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue really started to jiggle.
Needless 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 hump how proud she was of her huge 38FFs.
sitting in the professorship, my eye were even out with her garden pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised airfoil of her dark areola, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, open wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed lodge, leaning my head back, then parting my rim opened and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the bakshis of her thumb and forefinger on each slope of her right pap. Then, using light imperativeness, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The initiatory sprinkle squirted from her teat like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfective, pointing her mamilla directly in front man of my mouth. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the need to burn this minute deep into my computer storage forever. The flavor seemed to animate something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, tangy liquidness filling my loose mouth magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me fourth dimension to bask the creamy droplets lingering inside my sass. My centre opened just in time to see her lifting her early chest, which soon began streaming milk over my glossa as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the warm nectar, letting the relish seep into every corner of my rima oris, tingling my preference buds, as the world around me faded into a distant blur.
"individual seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's gratifying,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your help with the flick. But I should probably direct back now. We'll talk of the town again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's mulct, whenever,"I said, trying my best to look insouciant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it sack up that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more freehanded than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't aid myself from testing the weewee just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about closet 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 prison term at the hospital. You know, like those unworthy Edward White compression hosiery. It makes me scratch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter bang ?"
"Hmm, that's an thought too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nurse's kit, with Edward White heels and glossy blanched hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just cook me look good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a job,"I said, escorting her to the room access. She left me with a legal brief hug and a soft osculation on the cheek, as I closed the doorway, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the clip Artemis left, I felt like a sum up zombie. My dick was so arduous I could barely take the air, like all the blood in the rest of my trunk had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to come up Mom's journal once again.
This prison term I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's elbow room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and say the date of her latest entry. My chest heaved the here and now 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 feeling that something inside her wanted it to happen too. In my mind, the possibility was so tantalizing that the tabu inflammation of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that pointedness, I wanted a way to create the mo even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a cold room. Or maybe it was just my natural inherent aptitude taking over as I walked over and pulled give my female parent's top drawer.
I opened it to find a voluptuous pile of mellow quality women's hosiery, in a masses of people of colour, shape and thickness degree. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the premium of nylon unmentionable 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 light pair of silky, midnight Shirley Temple pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my denim and underwear, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking instruction from the store of watching Mom put them on under her jeans. With the pantyhose drawn up over my stifle, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my cock and balls. My prick stood up like a masthead pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its bound, drawing the waistband various inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my tum. That start moment of total encasement from the waist down filled my whole consistence with tingling electricity. I wasn't certainly why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own smooth legs took me to a degree of agitation I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my member beneath the fabric, making me feel right at home.
Ready to begin version, 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 tits, and the crazy anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my load as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the weed, sent me into a dreamlike state as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting different lately. I love him to dying and I can't help feeling responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting honest-to-goodness and he's basically raise enough to cause his own decisions. Still, it's obvious he has certain inclination that are far too dangerous to dominate. I was capable to look past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even snub all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetence for porno. But how can I possibly ignore this eccentric obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animate being. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not for sure why I said those things. It's heavy to even stomach the mentation of letting him cheapen 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 flesh and lineage. What variety of female parent would I be to let him opine what he did was okay ? It doesn't weigh how much I enjoyed it. There's cipher wrongly with enjoying the feeling of individual finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to pull it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a pretty properly size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was person I could blab 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 assure myself better that he can. Guess we'll just have to hold back and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the diary and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my middle, letting her words replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the audio of keys jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was after part yesteryear five. Mom was already dwelling house. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my room with no clock time to take on off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a pair of socks, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as lull as I could.
"You're home base early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of debris mail service, as I noticed a bag of food market resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a quick smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather squeamish in her stylish gray business courtship. The coloration was a little drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off proper above mid-thigh, leaving more than than enough leg on display where I could briefly pause to stare over the achromatic colouring material of the sheer whitish pantyhose stretching down to her Edward Douglas White Jr. leather pumps.
"Sorry, probably smoked too much,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner party ?"
"Well,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to discharge the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked repast in our new place, I went out and got stuff and nonsense to make believe shepherd's pie."
The ravisher Mom referred to was an Irish whisky casserole, made with onion, Daucus carota sativa, ground lamb or beef, topped by a stratum of creamy mashed Irish potato. It was also an inside gag among our family.
Shepherd was the name Mom took when she got matrimonial, the gens she'd kept after the divorce so her last figure would still be the same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her sheepherder's pie was normally reserved for birthday and other special occasions.
"poise,"I said."Shall I break out the near china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the same thing for dinner when we moved into our first place. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should spend a penny it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty good. For a second, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that aurora, I was fully expecting her to be highly overturn when she got dwelling house. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would have said something right then, but the grinning on her fount was so open and wide of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the elbow room. In that second, I could only arrogate that Mom had made the decision to motivate on like goose egg had ever happened. So instead of confronting the thing head on, I did my best to ignore the tensity between us, though it wasn't loose, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my quiet, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the way. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her branch around my neck. Her scent smelled like mint candy as her hazel center cut right through me. Her tenacious, unfaltering gaze calmed me to the point where the panic inside me gradually started to melt away.
"Why are you so tense up ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not sure,"I said,"just been a strange dyad of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been pretty skillful,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could feel the heat of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the lips. 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 feel my erection against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how lots I missed you all this fourth dimension. It means so much that you're willing to fall in up your freedom to hold out with your crazy, old mom. I want you to know no matter what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and snog her as hard 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 press out my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a moment, quickly blinking, trying to collect my sentiment. In hindsight, perhaps I should accept lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a mild smile on my nerve, as I calmly proceeded to excuse how Cynthia had stopped by sooner, noticed the camera in the office and thought it would be cool to turn over Joel some sexy photograph for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her typeface immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her headway to the side."Are you for sure she just wanted pictures, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tautness in her body felt like she was bracing for a major shock. Her center 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 quietly as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the topic of boob Milk. At for the first time, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my resolution the consequence I turned away. Before I could stop her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her leftfield and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those picture before Joel hears about this,"she said."The cobbler's last thing we need is a reason for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the pictorial matter one at a time.
I could take heed the injury in her voice as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's nothing,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a living. It's just a way to lead off my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the articulatio humeri. The hair falling over her fount made it difficult to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her.
Finally, with crying welling in her oculus, she looked back, voice trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her Scripture struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with to a greater extent warmth than a soldier returning from war. Her backtalk parted, surprisingly accepting my lingua, returning my lust-filled explosion with the Lapplander intense importunity.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how yearn. Our hired man roamed everywhere, groping each former's bodies in a wild hysteria. The marvelous texture as I ran my finger through her silky brown hair, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my dick, stirred me to reached down and squeeze both hands under her bird, running my script over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my digit over every column inch of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple cheeks yielding to the imperativeness of my clenching finger's breadth, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a thin layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to give up her, knowing the cloak-and-dagger inside my jeans. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to accomplish down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my digit, helpless to stop my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered coxa and second joint, as she urgently reached through my open zip, trying in vain to experience my stopcock, only to be blocked by a dyad of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was nothing I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her fingerbreadth softly caress me through me through the nylon, a import of silent recognition passed between us, where placing her hand against the smooth, dark fibre of the pantyhose hidden inside my jeans opened a hepatic portal vein leading to the shadow of tabu sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her finger's breadth over the precis of my bulging beam. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly commence 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."well, how does it sense ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her soft touch, with her fingers gliding over the ridges of my stiff, pulsating shaft, lightness as a feather, never stopping to face up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak office, while brushing the tips of her fingers against my sensitive glans.
My solvent described the feeling of both her script and the pantyhose, pausing to savour the dizzying sensation, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cell of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little besotted, but not uncomfortable."
The gunpoint of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her interpreter returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a little control can be good for you,"she said."But I do have to say one matter. I can't deny my feelings any more than you can. So I'm will to let us play 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 accept this one step at a time."
"That's mulct,"I said."Just knowing you're okeh with my fetich is well enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't crepuscle far from the tree."
With her snowy heels still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my shaft, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating motion, as if purposely trying to increase the detrition, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from prat, forcing our bodies to immix together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing good well the effect she was having on me.
"Best flavour in the humanity,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm certainly I can convince you otherwise. Tell me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling toss of her hair, as I watched her quietly maltreat back toward the dining board.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her heels together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one hand on each side of her dame, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the floor, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her buns. The nylon ascendance top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whiter than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a unspoiled angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"call for a moving-picture show, it'll finally 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 full to keep my hands steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the genus Lens vertically, wanting to capture the full extension of her legs, ensuring her bounder were visible in the frame. My turmoil was so overwhelming I could barely sustain my engrossment. The embodiment of all my fantasies stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard physical grounds straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her trenchant use of our tabu foreplay by the seductive manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking painting as she leaned all the way over, laying her bureau across the table. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curve of her ass, while the lean heftiness of her ramification seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright piano berth, turning to face the window. She noticed a chairman inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the seat. She flipped her hair, striking another mannerism, letting her sports coat slide down over her will shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the motion of her hand rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to savour feeling the textile against her hide, caressing the nylon with such tenderheartedness that I suddenly became fuddle with lust.
The sport jacket came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with interlace semi-circles covering the lower half of each breast, combined with an underwire to bear on out the alluring richness of her flop, setting her mamilla mellow atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was constituent of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to score out a high-cut thong of the same lacy fabric and color. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking mannerism as she hopped onto the mesa, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the television camera and focused on the White River dog dangling from her allow for foot.
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 cap. I watched as she crooked her head to the right field, snapping another picture with her ramification elevated and the side of her face peeking back at me with the naughty smile I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her stage in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left hired man over the cotton panel between her legs. I held up the tv camera for one last airs, framing the final shooting so her face was centered between her open legs, as she scrunched her eyeball together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckle, feigning an expression of orgasmic blissfulness which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so compel that I instantly tore off everything including my wind sock. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open arms. Our lips melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her second joint with her legs wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me decent room to make up and fondle her breasts. She let out a moan as my fingers made contact with her swollen mammilla, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my penis was begging for dismissal. 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 erection prostrate up against her butt end. She leaned back, keeping our steaming mouths bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one deal firmly attached to her titty, I took the early and slid it down over her abdomen, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my middle finger. Her mouth parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical consideration of her rousing. Her hips slowly began to pivot as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her hale physical structure 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 life, I was actually in ascendance, using my finger's breadth to work Mom's pussy into a foamy lather.
"Are you gear up to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her answer came with a series of convulsion and stutter 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 nothing but a yearn, steady moan. Her human face grimaced as her oral fissure flung undecided, moaning and wailing through red shudder vibrating against my cock. Her heaving hint gradually became more formula as the smell of her warm succus permeated the room with the musky odour of her sex.
Swept by the current of prohibit lust, 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. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my dick.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under smashed, 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 formal, aiding the catamenia of watery liquid state as her hand continued its journey along my shaft. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my penis feel the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her headspring, feeling her warm breath around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a parasite. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her tongue along the veiny rooftree, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spit.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my cock, balling her 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 eyes widened as the shaft extended under her nice manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more affiliated to her that it was to me.
I had learned my lesson from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could deliver put clothes pins on my pap and that would give birth been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the lounge, swinging her peg up to reside them against my groin. Bending her knees, she nestled both metrical unit around my cock, placing the prick between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky archway softly continued to flick me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me beginning foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the intuitive feeling of her feet covered in nylon sweeping up and down my cock or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't screw how I was able-bodied to proceed myself from nutting all over her ft right on then and there.
"That's a good boy. Let momma twitch you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too meddling trying not to cum. I wanted to control out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
exploitation her unattackable leg sinew with perseveration, she continued pumping her substructure up and down my dick until it turned majestic. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my berm, straddled my head and lowered her crotch slap down against my face.
She must induce intended to muffle my groan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed most of it straight down her throat. With one hand around it, her head started bobbing, jolt 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 peg, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my look as I felt her saliva drip down, leaving strong pool around my egg, all the while maintaining a stiff 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 strong, frantic breaths, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to stand up beside her and bend her over the frame, with her genu together and her ass served up for the taking.
Wasting no time, I knelt down and asphyxiate my face between her legs. I knew it was high-risk. Still, I reached up and started to pull down her pantyhose and flip-flop.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked buttock, before palming them with both hired man, then spreading them all-inclusive open.
I dove in foreland first, lodging my knife deep inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract. She squealed from the moment of sudden insertion, mashing her cheeks firmly against my boldness. I kneaded the supple anatomy as my tongue slowly began wriggling late inside the constrict crease. The briny flavour deeply aroused me, worming my tongue in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock as her anus started to gleam from all my saliva. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it light. From the phone of her groan, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might feature been. I was starting to lose all sentiency of reason, with no compliments for how far I was starting to push my luck, instead pushing my lingua farther into the depth of her spongelike butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to wee her snatch rising tide until ground had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no smear left in her dickhead where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the edge of couch, with her legs folded and her infantry lifted off the story.
Possessed by a indigence to take fully vantage of my mother's thirst for sexual perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her thighs, with my pelvis sawing back and Forth River, feeling her pantyhose tickle both incline of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her stifle, staring down at the wanton pleasure combustion in her centre. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my cock right hand between her second joint. Not once did she talk a one charge as I stood there thrusting between her stage, blanketed with pantyhose on both sides.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her business leader to release all of my pent up frustration. In that instant, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For geezerhood, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same twisted obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon cast by the stunner of her shimmering branch.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my dick between her silken thighs furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my someone.
Eventually, the rising pressure construction inside my balls rose to a level much too powerful 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 snow-covered 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 oral fissure, using raft of spitting as she generously slobbered the swell principal. She then closed her fingers around my shaft, tightening her clenched fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistency as she gazed up into my heart, giving sack instructions as she held my phallus directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to attend down and see nothing except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. Come on, infant. Don't storage area back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, infer ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These pegleg,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, child,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. Make mammy's pantyhose nice and wet. Cum all over my reasonably legs."
In that second, if I'd ever questioned the being of God, the sound of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was untimely. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those Word of God echo through my head with such sincerity that my musket ball imploded like undercoat zero, resulting in an epic cum rain shower, sheeting down Wave after wave, sparing no part of my mother's dead body, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the vision of cum oozing down not just her human face, but also dripping from her wet mucilaginous pap, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening second joint, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her digit through the greasy goo, 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 moment to get my bearings, leaning against the arm of the couch as I patiently waited for the room to stop spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty picture show off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."There's nix 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 undecomposed,"I answered, with a modest shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should cook for you."
Mom quirked her heading."You want to make dinner party ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you sure you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure I can pull off. I've seen you make it a century sentence. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll school text Cynthia and secern her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me have it off. But for the first time, I should probably climb up in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably tone out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"phone secure,"Mom said."In the meantime, please reckon about cancelling that photo shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will happen,"I said."You can rely me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I trust you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"wellspring, maybe not, but that isn't the percentage point,"she said."We just found this place. And I know you like it here as very much as I do. Why would you want to run a risk losing it so soon ?"
"mulct, 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 image out dinner on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to produce something resembling sheepman's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the board. She sat down, poured two chicken feed of wine-coloured, then reached down to bravely strike her first raciness.
The tone on her face as she slowly began to manducate immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you time of year this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"Well, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the rachis 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 shoes in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right hand,"she said."That post with the big margaritas and the salsa dance. I'll even wear one of my really short dresses so you can picture me off."
"perfect tense,"I said, smiling."Just don't forget the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, trust me, sweetie. You'll be seeing me a lot of me in pantyhose from now on,"she replied."Just try not to tell anyone I'm your mother when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit mixed-up."So what should I severalize multitude if person 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 glass, 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 osculation, sliding her tongue inside my mouth, filling it with the sweet predilection of wine-coloured, before slowly pulling her backtalk away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to reckon of me as your lady friend. I'll wear whatever you want me to outwear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal adulteress, your very own build and profligate fantasy. And I promise to never barricade wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to save all your cum just for me."

The End
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