Shepherd's Pie
By Earth Angel

It all started when I was 10 years old, the twelvemonth my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to have his obsession with Grand Theft Auto blindsided by his low gear jam.
I had just started junior high, where they made us read boring clobber like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to empathize the dangers of prohibited luxuria, yet old enough to notice how my female parent would often do the aphrodisiac things without knowing it.
Things might possess been unlike had my mother been more bequeath to let me out of her vision. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally adopt at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my destitute time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her to a greater extent peculiar tendencies.
She had an encompassing shoe collection, nearly of which were high heels. She loved wearing blackguard so a great deal 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 invisible stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to postulate something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a straw. If she was sitting at home grading papers, she'd sit there for minute sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every William Ashley Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about sportswoman. She just enjoyed wearing her fitted jersey and a duet of tights, rooting for whichever team had the cut quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would run down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The feeling excited me so very much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished senior high school school, I was so used to being by my mother's face that leaving for college less than an hour away filled me with highly mixed emotions due to all the stick memories left behind.
By my third year at Emerson, the novelty of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each exit day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no daughter and only a few manly friends to facilitate kill the boredom.
One dreary afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blue, with the radical approximation of finding a new apartment for us to live on together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking womanhood, with long, flux, chestnut browned hair, Pomaderris apetala optic, flat cheeks and skinny back talk set between her oval chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her glory days of high up school gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for Libra electron beam. Still, she kept her consistency in tremendous cast, wearing voguish outfit that proudly displayed her pert chest, tight ass, and honorable of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal view, my mother was the hottest cleaning lady I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so practically that it soon developed into a broad flub obsession. I tried my best to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the geezerhood, she started to worry that I seemed to have no interest in early girls.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the thinking of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a footprint backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, chunky apartment. My roomy was a total slob. Yet, in maliciousness of the cephalalgia, and as a great deal as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to pass my third-year yr getting hammered every night and screwing as many co-ed as potential. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in world, I was still the Same skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a leaning to fidget and make awkward jokes around missy my own age, to the dot where even the ugly ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my best-loved characterisation of her on my cellphone phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum debauched than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as longsighted as I could commend I had always been captivated by my mother's branch. When Dad left, because of all the travelling, she gave up event planning to instruct merchandising at a nearby community college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their doll. By that time, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many eld. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this basic element of her daily business organization attire distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and proportion of her recollective, sinuous pegleg.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that time, I became so fixated on my female parent's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first base place. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic outcome immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this average undergarment was imbued with extraordinary powers luring my eyes to tarry over the lissom tone of voice of her lean, slender calves, moving up to the meaty flesh of her firm sculpted thighs, where her farseeing, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her rosehip, topped by a set of toothsome daily round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering threads of nylon.
Though I'd long bury the very first-class honours degree clock time that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an urgent impulsion to front down and regard over the dazzling glory emanating from her legs. From the bottom of all her short bird, down to the tips of her toes, each duad she wore had the office to enthrall me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at menage waiting for her to walk in and kvetch off her sexy heels. My languid eyes followed as she tiptoed around the family, lost in the warm freshness of her glistening pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the more I became dire to fertilise 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 pull out my tv camera and get her to puzzle for me out in public. She'd always been the type of female parent who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing interest in photography. Eventually, I managed to collect dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous peg. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to mention being her son.
My preferent pictures for jerking off were the 1 that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before teaching, working in corporate U.S.A. had given her many eld to develop this picky acquirement. As a coach professional, she was far too elegant to withdraw one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her capitulum up and her perky breasts pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, sweep her hands under her skirt, then with wax extension, thumb out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky fore, the lush contours visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her house shapely calves in deliciously perfect alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the food grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my dick throb auditory sense that subtle swish.
trench down, I knew it was damage. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the hottest woman on earthly concern. Her voice alone sent chills down my spine, with the perfect diction and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident pedagogue, with only the slender trace of a typical New England accent.
Despite being over forty, her nutritive diet and friendly demeanor gave her a youthful glow. She barely ate to a greater extent than two sting of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two geographical mile every morning. While it was clearly a overconfident matter, her level-headed lifestyle only encouraged my physical draw to cover construction and turn more powerful each day.
Her bra size was an average 34-B. Yet, her modest pectus proudly stood out in demarcation with her petite waistline, jutting from the flimsy stuff of her tight blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working I mom, I had to ideate she still had pauperization. Yet, to my limited 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 meter to day of the month. She should have had offering lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own prevent infatuation and my ever increasing lustfulness for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my whang, as I lied in bed, aegir to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell number flashed up across the screen. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her ameliorate video, taken in Times Square. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black mini, black pumps, and a radiant pair of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daytime.
I snapped the motion-picture show just as Mom walked over to bewilder next to a tall New York streetlight. It was like she could read my sentiment as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only half visible under her long hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rust-brown rod. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her left knee behind her back. She stood there holding the affectedness for several secondment, with one shoe playfully lifted off the basis and a smile on her face as brilliantly as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the telephone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to detect the noisy jangle of belt, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something authoritative I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her voice that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the go five second drooling over her sexy picture. I'd even pulled out a duad of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her chest of drawers on my last trip home. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't poster if I only took one. My dick was already throbbing. All I could think about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hand, then taking my silky fingerbreadth and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the more she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two calendar month,"she said."I just got a letter that my snag is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can yield that."
"okay,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not sanction,"she said."I'm going to let to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd feel if I moved up to Boston."
At that particular mo, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so good around my prick that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the fortune to be up close and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to mean about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it often thought myself. I'm just not sure what else I can do."
Again, my judgement drifted off. I lied there trying to imagine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random inquiry hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the instructor's waiting room,"she said."I'm on my tiffin break. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her wooden leg crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one brake shoe off her 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 make matter easier ?"
"You're in good order,"she said."That's actually the real intellect why I called. I know how you feel about your roomy. And I've never been looney about the vicinity you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a nice place for the two of us."
It took me another moment to reply. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the shine velvety grain of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely rivet. I was too meddling wondering what her free hand was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the telephone. Was she gently rubbing her fingers over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many clip at home ? Was she dipping one fundament 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 waiting area, in wide sentiment of anyone walking by.
"seed on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old fourth dimension. I can always recover employment at another campus. Plus we can find a place with more space for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to give inside the oven. I could already see her bird riding up, framing her cordate ass, with just a lead of her pantyhose inset peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to go along myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to talk to pry about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roommate, even if our letting was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some ground prescript,"I added, when I started to realize the freedom I'd be giving up purely to see her legs every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to ready the rules now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"nothing John R. Major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll respect each other's privacy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys home base or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your founding father. You won't have to care about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was tight, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a sander, more delicate friction to my teasing hand cam stroke.
"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 blank 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 nothing you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the hell,"I said, voicing my annoyance."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her starting time chemical reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explicate, parsing her words carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a lilliputian 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 sense that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's tidy sum of veridical cleaning woman out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my account too ? Christ, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering whole tone that made me a wee bit nervous."I never knew you had such a thing for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should preface you to some of the teacher here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my computing device behind my book binding, by then my head was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the subject area to something to a greater extent energize."Did you like the new skid I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a irregular, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The lift in her voice told me she was smiling on the early end.
"You must get been reading my intellect,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had zilch but compliment all day. It was skillful telling everyone my son picked them out."
"Cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch bleak strappy sandals I ordered from virago."I can't wait to see how they look."
"Well, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to reckon at place in the morning. You should hail with me."
"Mmm, I'd sexual love to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds unspoilt. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might want to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be hunky-dory,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jeans. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a pair,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the issue.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jeans,"I repeated, resisting the urge to moan."I shot that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another hour or so before I exploded all over my bridge player."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 enough you tell Jimmy to wear some bloomers this time. It's a small awkward seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a demon."But then again, you can't really blame him. That wench you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal length. The annulus I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"Well that explains all the compliment,"I said."How do you keep your scholarly person from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's kind of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"stop consonant it, Mom. You look dandy. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other char. We all like to learn it."
"Well, it's dependable,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my female parent, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your female parent, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal moment. In 19 old age, my mother had never asked me a question as directly sexual as that. My balls 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 mitt over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy legs. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an reply intended to hide my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my frontal bone."This is starting to take a weird act. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, tell me,"she added, with a hardihood I found intimidating, yet highly titillating at the like prison term."Seriously, I want to sleep together,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive eruption."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those dirty websites ?"
My trunk trembled. I honestly couldn't Tell whether she wanted the trueness, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"Okay, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Just tell me one thing. Which part of a woman's body do you like well-nigh ? Wait, let me hazard, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My best alternative was to push back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we unload it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't stop there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the province I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, stop it. I can't take this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sensation, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's unspoilt that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this solid idea. It's bad enough you can't observe a lady friend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you finger even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the last clock time,"I said, starting to lose it."If I really wanted a girlfriend, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one foot in the grave accent ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetish I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the sentence. I certainly don't want you having intimate mentation about me. Surely, I don't have to recite you how inappropriate that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how unfitting it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't care. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a vengeance, knack on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to soak every thread with a monolithic wad of fatheaded greasy spunk, purely out of spite.
I closed my oculus, instantly reliving the indelible memory that triggered my hoodoo in the first spot.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing gauzy pantyhose with no chick on. I could see her returning from work in her sinister fuck-me ticker, the stale odor of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her skid and asked me to rub her swollen foot. I could even see the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hips switching from side to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the phone of her spike heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to amount home, discase off her pantyhose and carelessly throw out them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my lingua over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her impregnable, musky scent.
My lurid memories pushed me right over the bound. With each violent spurt, I was forced to strangle my urge to groan, watching fountain of semen blast into the air, surging from the heading of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hand, while my female parent patiently waited on the other end, with no idea what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my heedless act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to gather myself, leading with a gravid sigh.
"look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to disturb you. Maybe we should just fall up now."
"No,"she said, softening her pure tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being honorable. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important conclusion, I think you should narrate 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 helping hand, by saying no, she'd most in all probability sense that I was lying, which would only make her raging and potentially spoil any chance of us moving back in together. On the former helping hand, telling the truth would most likely freak her out so much that she might not mouth to me again for months, and that was even bad.
Normally, in spot like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the foremost thing I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the honorable way to resolve her question was to change by reversal it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be fair,"I said, pausing before trickily attempting to redirect."But initiative I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a brusque breath."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your head. I think if we're going to live together, then you have to predict to find a girlfriend and start keep in the rattling world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"commodity,"she said."I'll see you in the aurora. And don't forget to make for back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next morning, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, disgraceful, V-neck jumper, fairly low cut, with her low gear initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a atomic number 47 necklace which failed to restrain me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her launch neckline. Her blue skinny denim sat low on her shapely pelvic girdle, hugging every bender under skin-tight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her mark new, high-heeled, melanise leather sandals, with slight straps spanning over her naked ft.
Looking down at the turnup of her jeans, the first off affair I noticed was the raise up absence seizure of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my unanimous night tossing and turn in anticipation of seeing them the side by side morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how concerned she was talking about my fetich. So the last matter I wanted to do was call any unreasonable attention to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a lovesome hug, when my roomy, Jimmy, promptly emerged from his way. The smile on his fount told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite shake. For a few minutes, she and jemmy 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 chamber and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her last pair of pantyhose with a sheer bounder and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the duet I'd taken from her actor's assistant. So I promptly fished them from the down of washables thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would reach her a here and now to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must have been hurrying too practically to recognise that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow crack, knowing it was haywire, yet still unable to tear my center from watching her undress.
With her back turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a time, enjoying the lovely sight of denim smothering her smashed round butt. 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 thumbs into the specify waistcloth and promptly began squirming and wiggling her pelvic arch position to side. I fully expected to see panty, or at least a G-string, resisting the urge to heave as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her raw ass. My cock instantly started to tumesce. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a clear view of her outer cunt back talk, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jemmy would take the air by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my unbelievable hazard was too good to eliminate up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her finger's breadth, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her nimble digit 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 genu. She set down her left understructure, then steadily raised the early, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right foot inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her supple thighs, and finally squirming to compact her shapely articulatio coxae under the straining waistband, making one last adjustment to parentage up the sewing along her constringe edge crack, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a marvelously layer of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could have stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to lay off while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and get me at any moment.
I went back to the bread and butter room to find jemmy rolling a juncture, which I'd come to expect as voice of his morning time routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a prospicient talk where I'd delicately broken the tidings to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, jemmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to make a motion in with his lady friend in a few workweek anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard flavour between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roommate was soon to be.
consequence later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the mass of pantyhose covering her jolly feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her panorama. We left my apartment and set out to find our new place, quickly escaping so Mom could avoid jimmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the bicycle and turned on the local eighties station. The song on the radio thankfully managed to quiet my erection as I road beside her, shifting my direction toward the highly ironical lyrics.
"Every little thing she does is a thaumaturgy. Everything she do just move around me on…"
We then proceeded to expend the next couple of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second floor walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The house was owned by a young, newlywed distich named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the world-class floor. Joel was a successful contractor in the urban center. Artemis was a erstwhile nurse turned homebody mom who'd recently given nascence to their offset child. Looking at Artemis, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a child, judging by the size of her enormous tits which seemed to account for nearly half her body weight unit, especially considering how short she was. If I had to guess, I would deliver said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big nipple !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four in shorter, as I stood at Mom's position 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-pitched school as my female parent, only eight days later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our eyes. The stead had literally everything we wanted, high cap, hardwood storey, with scores of space, including a bombastic eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left hand was a combining dining and living room domain, divided by sliding double doors. On the right field was a belittled office, a humble invitee privy, then the kitchen, followed by a small entrepot space, with a door to the hind porch, and steps leading up to the dome. The Classical Greek had been completely remodeled for new tenant, with two bedrooms, and a large master bathtub.
Mom and I signed the lease in a matter of days, agreeing to locomote in by Oct 1st.
The move itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired movers to handle all the big furniture. Then, on Sun the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hours. Sometime around noonday, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no food. I offered to start unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and start removing the token inside. It was mostly packed with old books and photograph albums, 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 room and quietly cracked open the first base page.
The first entranceway was dated Nov 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The 1st few entries weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing firm she'd worked at during her spousal relationship. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks observance. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for individual else, blaming it mostly on her own aspiration when all Dad wanted was individual more traditional and slavish. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much glad with his new prize married woman. So there really was zero else for Mom to do except proceed on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when affair started to pick up a bit.
Nov 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with Mike Anne Mansfield Sullivan in the stairwell over by his office. I'm not even certain why I did it. He's almost 10 years younger than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my character. He hasn't closure flirting with me ever since he heard I was back on the market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to encourage him. It wasn't my conclusion to strike the duplicator outside his office. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the floor. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just play along. At first, he would sink it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my legs for a piece. It's pretty funny to watch. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same thing. He must really care my ramification. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through plenty lately. The last thing 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. Grace Kelly and Robin are throwing a so long company for me tomorrow nighttime. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His pecker got really severe when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the women in the bureau. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollars on a brand new company frock and that son of a bitch didn't even register up. Oh well, his expiration I guess. God knows there were plenty of former Guy there who liked it. Never thought I could perpetrate off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next week. It was kind of odd being the middle of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know Robin was pretty covetous. I told her to stop buying me shots. Besides, no one puts peeler poles in a bar full of drunken women expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussy for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm trusted 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 place in a good vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find it. He's always sneaking into my room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my panty draftsman. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The survive thing I want to line up is a Brobdingnagian cum grunge on one of my satin G-string. I guess at some point I'll have a talking with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's phallus. I really wish his father were here…
I would have kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the elbow room. I headed back below trying to litigate all the distorted opinion scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or ingenuous as I'd always believed. She seemed to bask getting attention from untried men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a slut really got me excited. I stepped out onto the back porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to calm myself down.
The view from the support porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the rail, as I looked down and noticed that the curtains were drawn on our new landlord's bedchamber windowpane downstairs. In the corner of the elbow room, I spotted an empty-bellied rocking chair, succeeding to what looked like the rail on a child's trot. I flicked my fag, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the baby in her arms. Even from such a gamy slant, it was virtually insufferable to look down and see anything other than her humongous mammilla. The image reminded me of those IMAX movies where they show you the earth from space and you can still see the Himalaya Mountains only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't helper grinning at the fire up blue sky button up sweater she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so lots it looked like she bought it from babe Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro lightness, watching as she sat down, only to pant in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already horny as fuck, as I watched Cynthia reach out up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her left bosom flop through the opening move of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's mouth over her swollen nipple. My whole life I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth. I've always preferred legs, but there was no denying the beauty of Cynthia's phenomenal jugful. The size of her breasts reminded me of my twenty-four hour period back at the pizza pie workshop, where we laid out the scratch until it rose into soft, round, flesh-colored mounds. The longer I watched, the more I found myself envious of her little boy and the blissful look on his boldness as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my dick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the battlefront 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 unawares, heather gray, New England nationalist T-shirt, with black spandex yoga pants, and a dyad of brown fur-lined boots. Her haircloth was tied back in a ponytail, with no make-up, yet I still wanted to bend her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get a lot done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a locoweed. Figured I'd wait 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 rafts of detritus everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one president in the kitchen. The remainder 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 comeback and started to eat.
After one snack, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front man of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my cervix and her legs stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new plate. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't chosen that exact bit to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her aspect instantly told me she could finger how hard I was. I expected her to chute right up. Instead, she just sat there for a secondment, looking at me with this tortured look on her side like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this frigidness, distant look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the telephone set Call over again. Only this time, there was no apt way for me to birl it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my psyche. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the smoothness of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leg covering felt more like velvety leotards, not curve like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the touch. On the plus side, the fabric was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her arms in nominal head 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 look her, I lifted my sweaty palms 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."feel, 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 girlfriend isn't that easy. It takes time."
"Okay, maybe you're powerful,"she said."So in the interim, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just birth to take 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 coherent thing to do in that situation would accept probably been to stand up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to make light of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was willing to have a sensory faculty of sense of humor about the totally 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 capitulum back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow cunt of her middle.
"You haven't got the glob to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a lick in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been good at sportswoman. In school, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in course. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too crybaby to oppose back. I'd been putting up with tough for as long as I could commend. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom lame in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"Okay, meter out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your putz back in your gasp, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a modest laugh and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just expect me to dismiss 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 mettle,"Mom said, dropping her head to her pectus, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a brief minute, she slowly raised her straits up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered."Fine, do what you want. I can't stop you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never name this again."
Admittedly, it would sustain been well-to-do to stop right wing there. I could have easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch up my cigarettes, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a tobacco user and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own rule about smoking inside the sign of the zodiac. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my gumshoe harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a pull of dope."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to excuse why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my paw's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a irregular, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in bridge player, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the cesspit, then reached over and opened her handbag, pulling out a small credit card bottleful. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chairperson where I was sitting. nursing bottle in script, she leaned over the head of my cock, squirting out a generous glob of creamy application, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"testament that help ?"she said, with a grin on her face which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all face, enabling me to delight the touch sensation of my own slippery hired hand, rising and falling around my rigid shaft, as I sat in battlefront of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my proficiency, imagining one day to feel her hand instead of my own. The look on her cheek lacked any human body of formula, as if to prevent me from noticing any signs of interest in her frigidness, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really hurry this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to campaign this even further."You could turn around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and show 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 depend at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding interpreter, with its air of unquestioning power, prompted the increased rhythm of my script, 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 lupus erythematosus than three inches from my expression.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is thoroughgoing. Really, it's perfect."
My oral cavity watered at the lot of her Negro leggings stretched taut over the curve of her business firm shapely seat. She kept her invertebrate foot together, accentuating the incline where the pocket-sized of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the loaded fabric, so amazingly bout and full-of-the-moon, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm glad you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just flexure over a fiddling further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"okey,"I whispered, losing my breath."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to place upright up. We're trading places."
With no falter, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my mother to grow around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her forefinger digit, directing me to stand in front of the chairperson. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden seat, keeping her wooden leg together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her tight glute,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then evidence 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 interpreter nearly caused me to buy the farm 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 black yoga pants ?
I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to respond, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock smack up against her butt, a forceful hit softened by the leggings and the meaty flesh underneath, the perfective tense cushion for my throbbing penis to drudge against her smooth, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified shriek, as I grabbed her by the waistline, ignoring her vocal protest as I violently started thrusting my rose hip back and Forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could pick up her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said zip in return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my turncock. Her voice was raspy and out of breath, with her chief forward, hair swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so intemperately. Oh my God, don't diaphragm. Yes babe, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum steady. Please let me find your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk come gushing out of my stopcock like a broken weewee main. The force-out of each spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My face was buried in her haircloth as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our trunk mashed together, the lingering wiz of her indulgent boldness pressed up against my shaft milked out the remaining cum flowing from my aching egg.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the black leging banquet over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick bed of blank creamy foam, rolling down the total darkness spandex, then pooling in the crevice of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the crack of her moist kitty.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for tidings as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go alteration,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained repose. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good idea,"she said, slowly rising to her invertebrate foot."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the next ten moment, okay ?"
* * *
For the residuum of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as much time to work on what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging article of furniture and unpacking most of our things. Mom spent most of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the keep room hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza pie for dinner party. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some Quaker from school who were hanging out business district. By the clip I got habitation, Mom had already gone to bed.
The future break of day, I woke up and walked downstairs to an void house. It was Mon and Mom had apparently already left for piece of work. I'd woken up with barely enough time to snaffle a quick shower, throw on some apparel and race off to get to my morning class. It wasn't like her to result without waking me up. I started to worry that my dopey activeness had managed to ruin everything on our number one day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a banker's bill with a lean of things Book of Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to social class, the fear of Mom telling me to prompt out made it virtually inconceivable to concenter on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the idea of going house, sealed of what was destined to get along.
My final class ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, jimmy had kindly given me two ounces of blue air pipe dream. So I figured the Best thing to do was go home, smoke a bowl and have a couple beers, just to groom myself for the foul mood my female parent was sure to be in when she got home.
The consequence I walked in the star sign, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her way and luckily found it in the Same box where I'd left it, right at the infantry of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a handing over that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the shopping centre. I was kind of scared at initiatory, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to discount it rather than causing a scene. He was well dressed for a jr. guy with a nice business suit like he could stimulate been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many board as I took my prat, which ended up facing him directly. From the instant I sat down, I could instantly experience him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my peg. I could have got up and found another place, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and go along my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye cerebration he'd engage the hint and go away. He must have 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 more I realized how nervous he was to approach me. I was kind of affront, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not sacrifice him one just to fuck with his foreland. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee berry, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a minute, holding them spread out to shew him the melanize thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my legs back and forth. Each time, I held my pegleg capable 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 keep up me down to the brake shoe store.
I'd found a great deal on a Black twosome of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a prissy glossy finish. 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 thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my branch as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert keep back me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the judiciary thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my peg assailable and my skirt up around hips, working my infantry into the horseshoe. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to wreak innocent with his back turned. At that point, I probably should give birth confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes 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. certainly enough, he walked out with a smile on his side like he hadn't done anything legal injury. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could serve 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 fair sex's skirts. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to drive me out for a drinking to see if he could change my opinion. He looked a slight angry when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a deterrent example and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly unmake my blouse, then told him to admit out his cock. He looked around for a irregular. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my palm, taking his stopcock in one hired hand, while using the former to slowly pull out up my chick. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clitoris, while using the former to stroke his pecker hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my wooden leg and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my thigh, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The transition ended there, but the stirring effect lingered in my bright imaginativeness longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without interrogation my first clear evidence that the char who raised me and handed down all of my morals was volition to charter in extreme, high-risk, intimate behavior with seemingly any young man with a pecker. But more importantly, there was also something in the spirit 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 hang on exposing my mother's dark-skinned slope, determined to see how far she was willing to go to gratify her rich sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the stadium I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard stride coming up the stair. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my head, as I walked toward the audio of someone knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's Federal Reserve note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his tool belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state of matter, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a bright orange satin nightie.
"goodness sunrise,"she said, over a mysterious oscitancy, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a nonplussed face, as I glanced down at her blurred ping slippers."Actually, it's good afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten minute ago."
"Oh, no job. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's cool. Come on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Book of 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 expression."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alert, radiator, bathroom sink, and one of the fall switches in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."Smoke alert probably needs a new barrage. If the illume switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Book of Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living way, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had short blond haircloth, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left hand, creating a lovely physique for the fullness of her round, chubby grimace. Knowing how vital some women are, she might have described herself as corpulence. In my notion, the extra babe weight just made her look more voluptuous. Her hips were fairly full, yet her tum was still pretty mat, with a couplet of incredibly immense knockers, giving her a arrant 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 civil way to keep myself from staring down at her giant hooter. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's pap reminded me of those heavy bags down at the gym, two of them, side to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonder for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbleful through the orangeness satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apologia for showing up half bare, I did my best to relieve her sense of importunity, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave workplace until five or six. She's more raw to the cold than I am. My old apartment was very much bad. Not to advert, we trust you."
"well, I'm gladiola you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first tenant since we bought this place…hate to start off on the wrongly understructure,"she added."The radiator seems mulct, must be a job with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's variety of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"audio good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and check out the swallow hole too. I just need to put on some very clothes."
"No bang, always serious to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to endure a little more next meter, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightgown had helplessly slipped down."I know the missy can be a picayune distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless attempt to breed up, making her bosom nub joggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to restrain my eyeballs inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the doorway, she paused in presence of the office, pointing to the tv camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the lensman ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a hobby. When I was young, I had this aspiration of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like summercater Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or man-about-town,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's sang-froid,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up mode. 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 shine me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a Mitt Romney bumper paster, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"Well, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the more Artemis reminded of the girls I knew back in high school, the ones who'd been spoiled since birth and hid their emotions under a well-practiced grin and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, worthy in this grammatical case considering her plentiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our instant anniversary. I wasn't certainly what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some nice glamour blastoff, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her marriage. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle coquetry of this dire housewife or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pants.
"Umm, sure, I could aid you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and shoot some examination shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the office staff, where she leaned up against the bulwark and slowly proceeded to unclothe down the right strap of her nightie, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here study 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 camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so much confidence in figurehead of the lens. The innocent, gutsy housewife who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting lips and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating gist of her sticky blue eyes. Yet, the sultry look on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely set up me for the mo she crossed her arms together, thrusting her tits toward the television camera like duple airbags, completely filling up the frame with more than cleavage than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various pose, when I mildly requested that we step over across the hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hand, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her rise up onto the table.
She didn't need a lot direction as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her head tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the cap.
"creative thinker if I ask you a personal question,"I asked, as she shifted over to her impart side of meat, returning my enquiry 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 diminished before I got meaning. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they hurt your rear ?"
"All the fourth dimension,"she said."Imagine trying to take the air with two congius of milk strapped to your chest of drawers. It sort of smell like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my straits."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use formula, More nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My breast milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than fixture milk. I try to eat wad of fruit to realise it perfumed. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these pictures and see which angles work best. Let me know when you have time for a full pic shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need metre to intend 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 representative combined with her degree gaze gave me a light-headed tactual sensation as I set down the camera, then pulled out a hot seat, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed matter couldn't possibly get weirder, this woman I barely knew was offering to let me taste her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the instant I saw her, my inaugural impulse was to entomb my face between her chest and powerboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her pass out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my cheek which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little curious.
She seemed to revel teasing me as her right hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her result shoulder strap. Sweat beads formed across my brow as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the former. My eyes concentrated mainly on the orangeness satin covering her monumental chest, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her paw to patiently ease down the shiny fabric. Finally, with a oaf in my pharynx, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull out her enormous jug.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't fathom how a char so diminished could end up with tits that big. Each one was great than my head and must give weighed at least ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the size and shape of these two mammoth globes, hovering inches from my typeface. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with reaching marks along both sides of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Artemis's tits were far too heavy to turn tail the effects of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the lenient tissue really started to jiggle.
phonograph needle to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her nipple out for all their nimbus, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to recognize how lofty she was of her huge 38FFs.
session in the professorship, my eyes were level with her pinko nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised control surface of her black areolas, no wider than a duet of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger, stopping me when I leaned in too stuffy.
"Don't put your oral fissure on it,"she said."Just sit back, open astray, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed orders, leaning my point back, then parting my lips open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the lead of her thumb and forefinger on each side of her rightfield nipple. Then, using light atmospheric pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching gesture. The first sprinkle squirted from her mammilla like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfect, pointing her teat directly in forepart of my mouth. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the penury to burn this bit deep into my memory forever. The feel seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious mind. The confection, tangy liquidness filling my subject mouth magically transported me back to babyhood. She stopped me for a moment, giving me clip to taste the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouth. My centre opened just in sentence to see her lifting her other chest, which soon began streaming milk over my lingua as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my knife through the warm nectar, letting the flavor seep into every corner of my mouth, tingling my taste buds, as the world around me faded into a distant blur.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."right affair I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's angelical,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your help with the pictures. But I should probably maneuver back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's mulct, whenever,"I said, trying my dependable to look nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more progressive than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't supporter myself from testing the weewee just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about press for the shoot. How would you palpate 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 ugly clean compression hose. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a aphrodisiac nurse's outfit, with white heel and calendered white hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just make me look good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a legal brief hug and a soft candy kiss on the face, as I closed the room access, wiping the exertion off my forehead.
* * *
By the meter Artemis left, I felt like a sum up zombie. My prick was so intemperately I could barely take the air, like all the blood in the rest of my body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to notice Mom's daybook once again.
This prison term I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the frozen air, as I picked up the diary and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and register the date of her up-to-the-minute entryway. My chest heaved the second I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to roll in the hay 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 hypothesis was so tantalizing that the verboten excitement of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that head, I wanted a way to make the mo even better. I wasn't sure where the theme came from, maybe from being in such a frigid room. Or maybe it was just my natural inherent aptitude taking over as I walked over and pulled open my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to bump a gilded voltaic pile of high quality fair sex's hose, in a masses of coloration, patterns and heaviness levels. I studied the down, breathing heavily over the bounty of nylon undergarment spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose sideboard. I rummaged through the galvanic pile, searching until my hands came across a feather sparkle 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 jeans and underclothing, before nervously sitting down to cultivate out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking instructions from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her jeans. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to knead out stretching the nylon over my cock and chunk. My dick stood up like a iris pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its terminal point, drawing the cincture several inches away from my umbilicus while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my stomach. That maiden present moment of tot incasement from the waist down filled my whole body with tingling electricity. I wasn't indisputable why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own tranquil legs took me to a level of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my phallus beneath the fabric, making me experience right at home.
Ready to start reading, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Artemis showing me her pap, and the crazy prevision of what I had yet to read, it was a curiosity 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 surreal 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 destruction and I can't help feeling responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting older and he's basically grown enough to make his own decisiveness. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendencies that are far too life-threatening to overlook. I was capable to look past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for smut. But how can I possibly ignore this bizarre obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an creature. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those things. It's toilsome to even abide the cerebration of letting him degrade me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty affair in my lifetime, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own flesh and stock. What kind of mother would I be to let him think what he did was okey ? It doesn't matter how a good deal I enjoyed it. There's naught wrong with enjoying the impression of someone finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to pull it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a length it was a pretty right size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so rive since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was someone I could talk 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 someone, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is half-baked. I missed him so very much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can shape this out, as long as I'm able to hold myself better that he can. Guess we'll just have to hold off and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my middle, letting her Scripture replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of tonality jangling in the curl downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter past five. Mom was already habitation. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my room with no fourth dimension to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a yoke of socks, and promptly walked down to recognise her sudden arrival, staying as calm as I could.
"You're home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of junk ring armour, as I noticed a bag of foodstuff resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning typeface forward with a ready smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish gray business sector courtship. The color was a slight drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off the right way above mid-thigh, leaving more than sufficiency leg on display where I could briefly pause to gaze over the neutral color of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her white leather pump.
"Sorry, probably smoked too a great deal,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner ?"
"wellspring,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to vacate the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new position, I went out and got stuff to wee-wee shepherd's pie."
The dish Mom referred to was an Irish whisky casserole, made with onions, carrot, solid ground lamb or beef, topped by a level of creamy mashed spud. It was also an inside gag among our family.
Shepherd was the figure Mom took when she got conjoin, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her last gens would still be the same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for birthday and former special occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the full china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your beginner and I had the Saame matter for dinner when we moved into our first place. I figured since you're the new man of the household, I should ready it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked repast sounded pretty skilful. For a second, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that dawn, I was fully expecting her to be highly disturbance when she got family. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to illuminate the air and would give said something right then, but the smiling on her brass was so unresolved and full of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the way. In that moment, I could only accept that Mom had made the decisiveness to move on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the topic head on, I did my best to ignore the tension between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck opening. Her perfume smelled like lot confect as her hazel tree eyes cut veracious through me. Her long, steady regard calmed me to the head where the panic inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not surely,"I said,"just been a unknown couplet of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been pretty nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could feel the warmth of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the sass. It wasn't long a buss, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't experience my erection against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how much I missed you all this time. It means so much that you're willing to give up your freedom to inhabit with your crazy, old mom. I want you to hump no topic what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to take hold of her and kiss her as surd as I could. The twinkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not deplume away, as I boldly prepared to tip in and press my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the tv camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a moment, quickly eye blink, trying to collect my mentation. In hindsight, perhaps I should give lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a mild grinning on my face, as I calmly proceeded to explicate how Artemis had stopped by earlier, noticed the camera in the place and thought it would be coolheaded to give way Book of Joel some sexy photograph for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would translate it was all in fun, but the scowl on her face immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her head to the side."Are you sure she just wanted motion-picture show, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her body felt like she was bracing for a major shock absorber. Her heart stared intently as she quietly held her breathing space.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the topic of breast milk. At commencement, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's supercilium shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my response the moment I turned away. Before I could bar her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left hand and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those exposure before Joel hears about this,"she said."The terminal affair we need is a reason for him to hold 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 pictures one at a time.
I could hear the scathe in her voice as she looked down and studied the delineation 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 pop my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the articulatio humeri. The hair falling over her face made it difficult to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulder joint, trying to console her.
Finally, with tears welling in her heart, she looked back, interpreter trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with more passion than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled explosion with the Lapp intense urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how recollective. Our paw roamed everywhere, groping each former's bodies in a wild frenzy. The grand texture as I ran my fingers through her silky brown hair, combined with the kick of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to reached down and jostle both hands under her skirt, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingerbreadth over every inch of that satiny nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her lissome impertinence yielding to the force per unit area of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy tail through a thin layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the arcanum inside my jeans. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to reach down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my finger's breadth, helpless to block up my manus from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and thighs, as she urgently reached through my open zip, trying in vain to feel my cock, only to be blocked by a pair of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was cipher I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her digit softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of understood acknowledgement passed between us, where placing her hired man against the bland, dark roughage of the pantyhose hidden inside my jeans opened a hepatic portal vein leading to the phantom of disallow sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the abstract of my bulging shaft. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly begin rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."wellspring, how does it find ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasance of her fragile touch, with her fingers gliding over the ridges of my stiff, pulsating beam of light, light as a feather, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my sapless post, while brushing the crest of her finger against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the feeling of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying sensation, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitalia, spreading through every cell of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little tight, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her vocalisation returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"fountainhead, sometimes a little restraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do take to say one thing. I can't deny my spirit any to a greater extent than you can. So I'm unforced to let us play with each other but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that have in mind ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one footmark at a time."
"That's amercement,"I said."Just knowing you're O.K. with my fetish is dependable enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't dusk far from the tree."
With her Edward White bounder still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my putz, bending her articulatio genus and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grate motion, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the pressure level inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our consistence to mix together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing wide-cut well the effect she was having on me.
"Best spirit in the existence,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm sure enough 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 flip of her hair, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining table.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her bounder together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her bird, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one hand on each side of her chick, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the story, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her butt. The nylon control top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even lily-white than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a good angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond beneficial,"I said, shaking my head.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer,"she said.
I heeded her countersign promptly, leaning over to piece up the camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my best to preserve my hands unwavering, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the genus Lens vertically, wanting to fascinate the full extension service of her legs, ensuring her dog were visible in the frame. My upheaval was so deluge I could barely exert my concentration. The embodiment of all my fancy stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was severe forcible evidence straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct delectation of our proscribe stimulation by the seductive style in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking icon as she leaned all the way over, laying her thorax across the table. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curve of her ass, while the lean brawniness of her legs seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright position, turning to face the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the seat. She flipped her hair, striking another pose, letting her blazer slide down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the motion of her hired hand rubbing back and Forth against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the fabric against her peel, caressing the nylon with such tenderness that I suddenly became inebriate with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the board. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with twine semi-circles covering the depressed half of each breast, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring mellowness of her female chest, setting her tits high school atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was part of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to progress to out a high-cut thong of the same lacy fabric and color. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg crown of thorns, as I held up the camera and focused on the whitened heel dangling from her left 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 dog pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her head to the right, snapping another picture with her legs elevated and the side of her nerve peeking back at me with the gamy grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her go away hired man over the cotton wool panel between her pegleg. I held up the camera for one finish affectedness, framing the concluding shot so her face was centered between her unfastened legs, as she scrunched her eyes together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an verbal expression of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so oblige that I instantly tore off everything including my socks. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with undecided coat of arms. Our rim melted together as I rushed my men down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her legs wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her cervix, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough room to attain up and fondle her breasts. She let out a moan as my digit made liaison with her swollen nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my phallus was begging for release. Still, I wasn't sure how far she was uncoerced to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on compressed up against her butt. She leaned back, keeping our steaming oral cavity bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one script firmly attached to her boob, I took the other and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her pussycat with my in-between finger's breadth. Her rim parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical stipulation of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her whole body started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to shake up even more. For once in my life, I was actually in ascendancy, using my fingers to do work Mom's pussycat into a bubbling fret.
"Are you ready 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 farsighted, steady groan. Her face grimaced as her lip flung open, moaning and wailing through violent tremors vibrating against my turncock. Her heaving breathing spell gradually became more normal as the smell of her warm juices permeated the room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the current of forbidden 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 lounge. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the cushion. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her deal against my rooster.
The pantyhose felt like a hammer ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under nasty, 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 balls, aiding the stream of weak liquidity as her handwriting continued its journey along my shaft. Grabbing the sash, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my penis feel the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her point, feeling her warmly breathing spell around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquidity, mopping it like a leech. I could barely actuate as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her tongue along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spit.
I moaned as she gently took cargo deck of my shaft, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her knife to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her fount as she quietly jerked me off. Her eyes widened as the ray extended under her skillful manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reaction as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my phallus, quietly bonding like it was more attach 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 own put apparel peg on my pap and that would have been ok. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far perfumed and more generous than that. She sat down on the antonym end of the couch, swinging her legs up to catch one's breath them against my groin. Bending her human knee, she nestled both feet around my stopcock, placing the diaphysis between her delicate sol, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arches softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me first off foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her metrical foot covered in nylon sweeping up and down my cock or just the estimate that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't know how I was able to hold back myself from nutting all over her pes right then and there.
"That's a good boy. Let mom jerk 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 busy trying not to cum. I wanted to hold out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
victimisation her impregnable leg muscleman with persistence, she continued pumping her substructure up and down my rooster until it turned regal. Finally, she needed a recess, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my shoulder joint, straddled my headspring and lowered her crotch hell dust down against my face.
She must have intended to muffle my moan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed virtually of it straight down her throat. With one hand around it, her head started bobbing, jolt and sucking all at once. My coxa started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eager back talk. Meanwhile, my brass was smothered between her legs, where all I could catch one's breath was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my face as I felt her spittle drip mold down, leaving warm pool around my balls, all the while maintaining a steady rhythm method as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless wildness till she finally came up for air.
After a series of voiceless, frantic breaths, she sat up and stepped back down to the trading floor, giving me room to stand up beside her and stoop her over the couch, with her human knee together and her ass served up for the taking.
cachexy no time, I knelt down and smothered my face between her legs. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to pull down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her au naturel buttock, before palming them with both hands, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in head first, lodging my tongue cryptical inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract. She squealed from the moment of sudden intromission, mashing her boldness firmly against my case. I kneaded the supple frame as my lingua slowly began wriggling deep inside the narrow-minded crease. The briny feeling deeply aroused me, worming my tongue in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the cushions as her anus started to gleam from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the sound of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might deliver been. I was starting to misplace all sense of ground, with no gaze for how far I was starting to force my luck, instead pushing my tongue farther into the profoundness of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to hold her pussy flood until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her son of a bitch where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the edge of couch, with her legs folded and her feet lifted off the storey.
Possessed by a want to postulate fully advantage of my female parent's thirst for sexual perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her thighs, with my hips sawing back and forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both sides of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knees, staring down at the wanton pleasure burning at the stake in her eyes. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my dick right between her thighs. Not once did she utter a undivided complaint as I stood there thrusting between her peg, blanketed with pantyhose on both sides.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her office to release all of my pent up foiling. In that moment, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For long time, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the Lapplander twisted obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon cast of characters by the lulu of her shimmering ramification.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my tool between her silken second joint furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly able-bodied to see how fully she possessed my person.
Eventually, the rising pressure building inside my balls rose to a grade much too powerful to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my word of advice, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took hold of my turncock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her sass, using lots of spit as she generously slobbered the well head teacher. She then closed her finger around my slam, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with tenaciousness as she gazed up into my eyes, giving acquit instructions as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to look down and see naught except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. Come on, baby. Don't hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, infer ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These legs,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, babe,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. Make Mommy's pantyhose nice and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that consequence, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the sound of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was faulty. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those words echo through my capitulum with such sincerity that my balls imploded like ground zero, resulting in an heroic poem cum shower, sheeting down wave after wafture, sparing no part of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one tempestuous blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her fount, but also dripping from her wet unenviable tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her digit through the greasy slime, smiling as she reached up to savour the salty residue, slurping it in her sass like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a moment to get my heading, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the room to break off spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busybodied cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."There's aught better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a winking."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm skilful,"I answered, with a balmy shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should cook for you."
Mom quirked her fountainhead."You want to make dinner ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you sure you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure I can manage. I've seen you make it a hundred times. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and separate her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me have a go at it. But commencement, I should probably start in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably step out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"phone safe,"Mom said."In the lag, delight think 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 bank 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 mannikin of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the distributor point,"she said."We just found this piazza. And I know you like it here as very much as I do. Why would you want to risk losing it so soon ?"
"Fine, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to figure out dinner on my own.
It took me some metre, still I managed to farm something resembling sheepman's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two shabu of wine-coloured, then reached down to bravely take on her first pungency.
The tone on her face as she slowly began to chew immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"wellspring, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the backbone 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 office in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's rightfulness,"she said."That home with the big margaritas and the salsa saltation. I'll even wear one of my really forgetful dresses so you can point me off."
"perfect,"I said, smiling."Just don't bury the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, faith 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 confused."So what should I secern people if mortal 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 say them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her ice, whispering her result 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 buss, sliding her tongue inside my mouth, filling it with the gratifying taste perception of wine, before slowly pulling her rim away.
"Technically, I'm still your female parent,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to retrieve of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own flesh and blood phantasy. And I promise to never quit wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to deliver all your cum just for me."

The End
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