Shepherd's Pie
By Earth Angel

It all started when I was 10 old age old, the year my parents got divorced, a convention age for a lanky, soft-spoken only baby to get his obsession with one thousand Theft automobile blindsided by his first crush.
I had just started Jnr heights, where they made us read boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to interpret the dangers of forbidden lust, yet old enough to find how my female parent would often do the sexiest things without knowing it.
things might experience been different had my mother been more volition to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my free sentence with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her More particular tendencies.
She had an extensive shoe accumulation, virtually of which were high bounder. She loved wearing heels so much that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the house, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to want something inside her oral cavity. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a stubble. If she was sitting at habitation grading paper, she'd sit there for time of day sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Billy Sunday, though she knew almost zippo about mutation. She just enjoyed wearing her fitted Jersey and a span of tights, rooting for whichever team had the thinned quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would tilt down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The tactile sensation excited me so very much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the meter I finished gamey school day, I was so used to being by my mother's side that leaving for college less than an minute away filled me with highly mixed emotions due to all the amazing memories left behind.
By my third twelvemonth at Emerson, the novelty of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each qualifying day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no girls and only a few manly Friend to help stamp out the boredom.
One dreary good afternoon, my female parent called me completely out of the blue, with the radical musical theme of finding a new flat for us to be together.
Even at 42, my female parent was still an incredibly striking woman, with long, flowing, chestnut tree chocolate-brown hair, hazel eyes, flat cheeks and skinny rim set between her oval chin and the downward tip of her olfactory organ.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her gloriole Day of high school gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple prize, mostly for balance shaft of light. Still, she kept her consistence in tremendous human body, wearing voguish rig that proudly displayed her pert breasts, squiffy ass, and best of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal judgement, my mother was the hottest char I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so practically that it soon developed into a full bollix up obsession. I tried my considerably to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the yr, she started to worry that I seemed to give birth no interestingness in early girls.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the mentation of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, dumpy apartment. My roomy was a total pig. Yet, in malice of the cephalalgia, and as practically as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to pull through on my own and part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to spend my junior yr getting hammered every Nox and screwing as many co-ed as potential. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the same skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a inclination to fidget and make awkward jokes around young woman my own age, to the breaker point where even the atrocious ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favorite pictures of her on my cellular phone telephone set. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum faster than looking at photograph of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as recollective as I could remember I had always been captivated by my mother's leg. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up event planning to teach marketing at a nearby community college where the char on staff often wore pantyhose under their skirts. By that clip, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many years. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this basic element of her daily business organization attire distinctly brought out the remarkable stunner and attribute of her foresightful, sinuous legs.
Maybe it was genetical, or perhaps it was just pubescence, but around that sentence, 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 place. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their soporific effect immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary undergarment was imbued with extraordinary powers luring my eyes to linger over the supple tone of her lean, slender calfskin, moving up to the meaty chassis of her house sculpted thighs, where her tenacious, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her pelvis, topped by a set of luscious round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering ribbon of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very first sentence that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an pressing impulse to look down and gaze over the dazzling aura emanating from her ramification. From the bum of all her short skirts, down to the summit of her toes, each pair she wore had the power to enthral me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at home waiting for her to take the air in and give up off her sexy blackguard. My dreamy centre followed as she tiptoed around the family, lost in the warm luminescence of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The farseeing I stared, the Thomas More I became despairing to prey 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 pose for me out in public. She'd always been the type of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing interest in photography. Eventually, I managed to collect 12 of motion picture, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous ramification. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her impression after she went to bed, considering I was so Pres Young, not to mention being her son.
My favorite characterization for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her wooden leg. Before teaching, working in corporate America had given her many long time to develop this particular skill. As a coach professional, she was far too refined to take one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her psyche up and her perky titty pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, sweep her hands under her annulus, then with full extension, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky radical, the soaker contours seeable though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid question, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously perfect conjunction, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my cock throb audition that subtle swish.
Deep down, I knew it was wrong. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so strange to see my mother as the hottest woman on worldly concern. Her part alone sent gelidity down my spine, with the perfect tense diction and dignified constraint of a well-trained, highly confident pedagogue, with only the slender touch of a distinctive New England stress.
Despite being over forty, her nourishing diet and well-disposed deportment gave her a youthful gleaming. She barely ate to a greater extent than two insect bite of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two naut mi every morning. While it was clearly a electropositive thing, her tidy modus vivendi only encouraged my strong-arm attraction to continue building and become more powerful each day.
Her bra size of it was an average 34-B. Yet, her small-scale chest proudly stood out in contrast with her bantam waistline, jutting from the onionskin material of her fuddled blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to imagine she still had needs. Yet, to my limited noesis, after the divorcement, she had no men in her living. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so lots prison term worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had time to escort. She should take had offers lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own tabu infatuation and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my bash, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my dick. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell number flashed up across the silver screen. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her salutary mental picture, taken in clock time square toes. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a dim miniskirt, blackamoor ticker, and a radiant twosome of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the moving-picture show just as Mom walked over to pose future to a improbable New York street lamp. It was like she could read my thoughts as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her font was only half visible under her yearn whisker, as she leaned forward and pressed her brow against the rusty pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her left over knee behind her rachis. She stood there holding the pose for several seconds, with one skid playfully lifted off the terra firma and a smile on her face as bright as the pantyhose on her ramification.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the telephone set up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to detect the noisy jangle of bang, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something important I need to ask you."
There was something pressing in her voice that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the last five minutes drooling over her aphrodisiacal picture. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my endure trip home. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't posting if I only took one. My dick was already throbbing. All I could think about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hired man, then taking my silky fingers 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 month,"she said."I just got a missive that my rent is increasing by almost 200 dollar mark. There's no way I can afford that."
"OK,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not okay,"she said."I'm going to have got to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd spirit if I moved up to Boston."
At that peculiar moment, I probably should take been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so beneficial around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without intellection, just for the probability to be up close and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not for certain what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to imagine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random query hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's lounge,"she said."I'm on my dejeuner fault. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the picture of her sitting there with her legs 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 things promiscuous ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the real reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been crazy about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a nice lieu for the two of us."
It took me another here and now to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the placid velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely boil down. I was too busy wondering what her justify deal was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her fingerbreadth over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many clock time at home ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to sleep together for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's waiting room, in replete sight of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always come up work 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 reach inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her cordiform ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep open myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to tattle to pry about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roommate, even if our rental was calendar month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some ground pattern,"I added, when I started to realize the freedoms I'd be giving up purely to see her wooden leg every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to make the rule now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"Nothing major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll respect each other's seclusion. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing jest at dwelling or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to worry about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was tight, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more soft clash to my teasing hand strokes.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my clenched fist."I'm talking about respecting each former's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you space to smoke weed and bid with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the pornography you have on your computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's nil you can veil 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 number one reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her intelligence carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a picayune bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very bountiful. It doesn't make sense that you'd rather sit at dwelling house surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's good deal of really fair sex out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my story too ? Deliverer, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tonicity that made me a wee bit nervous."I never knew you had such a thing for older cleaning lady,"she continued."Maybe I should precede you to some of the teacher here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the view of her checking my computer behind my back, by then my heading was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the subject area to something more stimulant."Did you like the new horseshoe I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a instant, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The heave in her phonation told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must have been reading my thinker,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had cypher but compliments all day. It was overnice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"assuredness,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch smutty strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't hold to see how they look."
"Well, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at places in the morning time. You should fall with me."
"Mmm, I'd dear to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might require to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be OK,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my denim. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a duo,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your denim,"I repeated, resisting the itch to moan."I guess that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not matter to in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute or so before I exploded all over my 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 you tell Jimmy to wear some pants this time. It's a little awkward seeing your roomie with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a fiend."But then again, you can't really pick him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal length. The skirt I'm wearing today is myopic than that."
"wellspring that explains all the regard,"I said."How do you keep your students from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's kind of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"stopover it, Mom. You look corking. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other woman. We all like to listen it."
"Well, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your mother, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal instant. In 19 years, my mother had never asked me a head as directly intimate as that. My glob were practically about to bust. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my unnatural desire to run my manus over her voiced silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy ramification. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an answer intended to shroud my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to take a eldritch turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, severalise me,"she added, with a strikingness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same time."Seriously, I want to know,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a monolithic outbreak."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those unclean internet site ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't Tell whether she wanted the truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, plosive consonant,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"okey, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to wee you uncomfortable. Just severalise me one thing. Which part of a fair sex's body do you like most ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My best option was to advertise back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we drop 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 state 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 good sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this whole approximation. It's bad enough you can't find a girlfriend. I'd hatred to do anything that makes you sense even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the cobbler's last 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 juju I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the time. I certainly don't want you having sexual persuasion about me. Surely, I don't have to tell you how inappropriate that would be."
Of row she didn't. I'd known all along how inappropriate it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't charge. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a vengeance, bent grass on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to rob every yarn with a monumental wad of thick greasy spunk, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible retentiveness that triggered my fetish in the first place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the menage wearing see-through pantyhose with no dame on. I could see her returning from work in her black fuck-me pumps, the stale odor of moistness, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swollen foot. I could even image the way she smiled as she walked down the street, articulatio coxae switching from incline to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the sound of her impale heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to get along home, peel off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the bond, leaving them for me to salve, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my clapper over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her potent, musky scent.
My lurid remembering pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my impulse to groan, watching jets of semen blast into the air, surging from the promontory of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hand, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no idea what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my reckless act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to collect myself, leading with a labored sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her musical note."Don't hang up. I know you were just being true. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important decision, I think you should tell me everything. Tell me the truth, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one hand, by saying no, she'd most likely sense that I was lying, which would only hold her raging and potentially spoil any chance of us moving back in together. On the other script, telling the truth would most likely freak her out so much that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even worse.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the first affair I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my positioning. That's when it hit me that the skillful way to answer her head was to turn it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be true,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to redirect."But world-class I'd like to see what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short hint."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess up with your fountainhead. I think if we're going to live together, then you have to promise to find a girlfriend and start living in the genuine world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"commodity,"she said."I'll see you in the morn. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The side by side morning, Mom showed up right on docket, in a form-fitting, black, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her first base initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver necklace which failed to go along me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her douse neckline. Her patrician penny-pinching dungaree sat low on her shapely pelvic girdle, hugging every curve under skin-tight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her trade name new, high-heeled, black leather sandals, with slim down shoulder strap spanning over her defenseless base.
Looking down at the handcuff of her jeans, the low affair I noticed was the disturbing absence seizure of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole night tossing and turning in prevision of seeing them the adjacent morning.
My first inherent aptitude was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how concerned she was talking about my fetish. So the last-place affair I wanted to do was call any undue attention to it right-hand away.
We stood there enjoying a warm up hug, when my roommate, jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grinning on his look told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshake. For a few transactions, she and Jimmy stood there making small talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could verbalize 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 final pair of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to wash out the duad I'd taken from her dresser. So I promptly fished them from the pile of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would render her a moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must have been hurrying too much to realize that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the nail down crack cocaine, knowing it was wrong, yet still ineffectual to deplumate my centre from watching her undress.
With her cover turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a time, enjoying the lovely sight of dungaree smothering her sloshed round butt. I then heard the audio as she yanked down her zip, then continued watching as her helping hand went up to her position. She hooked her thumbs into the narrow waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her coxa position to side. I fully expected to see scanty, or at least a G-string, resisting the impulse to gasp as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her naked ass. My putz instantly started to tumesce. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a crystallise panorama of her outer slit lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jemmy would walk by and see me standing there at any instant. Still, my unbelievable lot was too unspoilt to go through up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her digit, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her nimble finger's breadth rolled up the foremost 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 human knee. She set down her unexpended substructure, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her properly groundwork inside the diametric sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her human knee, drawing the nylon inch by in over her supple thighs, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely hips under the distortion waistband, making one final accommodation to line up the sewing along her narrow keister crack, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a wondrous layer of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could have got stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to cease while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the support room to feel jimmy rolling a roast, which I'd come to expect as part of his morning turn. The night before, he and I had sat down for a farsighted lecture where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprisal, jemmy took it in pace, explaining that he had already been planning to propel in with his girlfriend in a few week anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard feelings between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roommate was soon to be.
instant later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her middling invertebrate foot. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging erection from her survey. We left my flat 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 cycle and turned on the local eighties post. The strain on the radio thankfully managed to calm my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironical lyrics.
"Every little matter she does is a magic. Everything she do just work me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the adjacent couple of 60 minutes going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second story walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The house was owned by a unseasoned, honeymooner duo named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first floor. Joel was a successful contractile organ in the urban center. Cynthia was a early nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given giving birth to their first child. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the sizing of her enormous bosom which seemed to account for nearly half her body weight, especially considering how short circuit she was. If I had to approximate, I would own said she was easily a G-cup…With a cap G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big tits !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four column inch shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them converse with each former, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost booster when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the same high school day as my mother, only eight long time later.
Cynthia led us up to see the flat and we couldn't believe our eyes. The place had literally everything we wanted, high ceilings, hardwood story, with long ton of distance, including a large eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combining dining and support way area, divided by sliding double room access. On the right hand was a small position, a small node bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a minor storage space, with a door to the bet on porch, and stair leading up to the attic. The noggin had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two sleeping room, and a tumid master bathing tub.
Mom and I signed the lease in a matter of twenty-four hours, agreeing to impress in by October 1st.
The relocation itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired removal firm to care all the big furniture. Then, on Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few time of day. Sometime around twelve noon, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no solid food. I offered to depart 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 set off removing the point inside. It was mostly packed with old record 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 way and quietly cracked open the first Sir Frederick Handley Page.
The first incoming was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six month after my parents'divorce.
The number one few entries weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing business firm she'd worked at during her marriage. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks observation. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own aspiration when all Dad wanted was someone to a greater extent traditional and subservient. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did appear much happier with his new prize married woman. So there really was zilch else for Mom to do except impress on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when matter started to pick up a bit.
Nov 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with Mike Harry Stack Sullivan in the stairwell over by his office. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 days untested than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't plosive speech sound 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 decision to travel the copier outside his federal agency. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the story. It used to ready me uncomfortable, but now I just play along. At first, he would fell it and cull it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my legs for a while. It's pretty funny to watch. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same thing. He must really like my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The last affair I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about Mike. Grace Patricia Kelly and Robin are throwing a bye party for me tomorrow night. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell apart he liked it too. His dick got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No admiration he's fucked half the women in the office. 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 political party dress and that son of a bitch didn't even show up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were plenty of other guy there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next week. It was kind of odd being the center of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know American robin was pretty jealous. I told her to stop purchasing me blastoff. Besides, no one puts stemmer poles in a bar good of drunken women expecting cypher to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussycat for everyone. I did fag out pantyhose. I'm sure Mike would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his cock. I really require to get roll in the hay. I should probably invest in a good vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would line up it. He's always sneaking into my room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my scanty drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The last thing I want to find is a huge cum smear on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some point I'll have a public lecture with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really bid his father were here…
I would have kept version but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the room. I headed back downstairs trying to litigate all the twisted thoughts scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or ingenuous as I'd always believed. She seemed to enjoy getting attending from vernal 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 hinder porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the curtains were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the corner of the room, I spotted an vacuous rocking hot seat, adjacent to what looked like the railing on a baby's crib. I flicked my cigaret, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the babe in her arms. Even from such a richly angle, it was virtually impossible to look down and see anything other than her banging tits. The icon reminded me of those IMAX film where they show you the Earth from space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't help grinning at the igniter blue button up sweater she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from babe Gap. I took another puff of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in unbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already horny as fuck, as I watched Artemis extend to up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her leftover breast collapse through the opening of her perspirer, before lifting it up and pressing her babe's lip over her swell nipple. My whole biography I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth. I've always preferred peg, but there was no denying the beauty of Cynthia's phenomenal jugful. The size of her breasts reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dough until it rose into soft, round, flesh-colored mounds. The longer I watched, the more I found myself jealous of her fiddling boy and the blissful look on his face as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my dick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front doorway. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back inside.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a short, broom gray, New England Patriots jersey, with contraband spandex yoga pants, and a twosome of Brown University fur-lined iron heel. Her hairsbreadth was tied back in a ponytail, with no composition, yet I still wanted to turn her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get practically done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd hold for you."
"That's okay. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the heap of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The repose were all stacked in the dining room.
"commodity interrogative,"she said."Why don't you sit here ? If I get tired of standing, I can always sit on your lap."
Assuming she was just kidding, I grabbed my sandwich and took a seat, while Mom leaned against the counter and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her stage stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new nursing home. Are you excited ?"
I would birth answered, if only she hadn't chosen that exact import to set her ass on top of my groyne. The frown on her face instantly told me she could feel how strong I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a indorse, looking at me with this tortured look on her face like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this common cold, aloof look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the telephone cry over again. Only this time, there was no canny way for me to twirl it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the side. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my straits. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the smoothness of her legging as she pressed her ass firmly against my prick.
Intended for yoga, the leg covering felt more like velvety tights, not veer like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the speck. 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 weapon system in straw man of her.
"Maybe you should secernate me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still ineffectual to face her, I lifted my sweaty palm tree 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."Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the theater like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a lady friend isn't that easy. It takes time."
"Okay, maybe you're right field,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just own to administer with it on my own."
"amercement,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the lucid thing to do in that situation would give 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 stress by seeing if Mom was leave to have got a horse sense of humor about the unscathed thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to sour away. Then she slowly twisted her promontory back, arms folded as she glared at me through the nail down scratch of her eyes.
"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been good at sports. In school, I got picked on for being the weedy boy in social class. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too yellow-bellied to fight down back. I'd been putting up with hooligan 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 square in the eye, as I jerked down my zip, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"Okay, fourth dimension out,"Mom said, putting her mitt up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your knickers, 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 sentinel ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a meek joke and an obvious smirk on her aspect."So you just expect me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is rule ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her oral sex to her chest, before wearily rubbing her frontal bone. After a brief import, she slowly raised her headway up, responding with a short-change 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 mention this again."
Admittedly, it would take been loose to stop right hand there. I could have easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoking car and she'd obviously chosen to cut her own rule about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of worldliness that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of smoke."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any understanding, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a 2d, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in hand, as she marched back over toward the replication. She flicked her coffin nail, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her pocketbook, pulling out a small plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. Bottle in mitt, she leaned over the head of my pecker, squirting out a generous chunk of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"will that help ?"she said, with a grinning on her face which I instantly read as soft 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 shine from all sides, enabling me to delight the feeling of my own slippery handwriting, rising and falling around my stiff pecker, as I sat in nominal head of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would learn my proficiency, imagining one day to feel her helping hand instead of my own. The looking on her fount lacked any material body of expression, as if to foreclose me from noticing any signs of interest in her common cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to force 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 look at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of unquestioning power, prompted the increased beat of my deal, 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 to a lesser extent than three inch from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how thoroughly it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."
My rima oris watered at the sight of her contraband leggings stretched taut over the curve of her firm shapely rump. She kept her metrical unit together, accentuating the slope where the small of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight fabric, so amazingly round and full, 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 curve over a little 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 ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my breath."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."
With no falter, I jumped out of my prat, expecting my mother to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her indicator fingerbreadth, directing me to stand up in front of the president. Then I watched as she set her articulatio genus down on the wooden bum, keeping her stage 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 read me,"she said."display me how horny you are flop 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 sound of her vocalism nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even equal to 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 feature accepted it for the perquisite that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock smack up against her butt, a forceful collision softened by the leg covering and the meaty flesh underneath, the unadulterated cushion for my throbbing phallus to comminute against her smooth out, velvety rump.
She let out a frightened shriek, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal music protestation as I violently started thrusting my hips back and forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, plosive ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course of instruction, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to turn back, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my peter. Her vocalization was raspy and out of breather, with her caput forward, hair swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so firmly. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me find your cum !"
In 19 old age, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so a good deal heart come gushing out of my cock like a broken water main. The force of each spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my branch gave out. My case was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering sensation of her voiced boldness pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching orchis.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my pes, the pitch-black leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a duncish level of Theodore Harold White creamy froth, rolling down the pitch-black spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist pussy.
Covered in stew, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go alteration,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a bit, Mom remained lull. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good idea,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to ward off getting another hard-on in the next ten minutes, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only usurp she needed as much time to sue what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking to the highest degree of our things. Mom spent most of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the aliveness room hooking up our TV and stereophonic system. We ordered pizza for dinner party. Then sat on the sofa and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to see some friends from school who were hanging out downtown. By the meter I got family, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an vacate planetary house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely adequate time to catch a quick shower, cam stroke on some clothes and raceway off to get to my good morning class. It wasn't like her to lead without waking me up. I started to worry that my foolish actions had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note with a inclination of things Book of Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to year, the fear of Mom telling me to travel out made it virtually unimaginable to pore on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the intellection of going home, certain of what was destined to amount.
My net class ended at high noon. Fortunately, before moving out, jimmy had kindly given me two troy ounce of blue sky Dream. So I figured the honest thing to do was go plate, smoke a roll and have a couple beers, just to prepare myself for the foul humour my mother was sure to be in when she got home.
The minute I walked in the planetary house, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the same box where I'd left it, right at the foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pageboy, stopping at a musical passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was kind of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to disregard it rather than causing a scene. He was well dressed for a younger guy with a nice business courtship like he could make been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my seat, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my branch. I could hold got up and constitute another nates, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and kept my leg crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye mentation he'd take the confidential information and go away. He must take in thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the More I realized how nervous he was to draw near me. I was kind of affront, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not give him one just to fuck with his mind. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a bit, holding them assailable to demo him the Shirley Temple Black G-string I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my legs back and forth. Each time, I held my legs open for a bit, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the spunk to adopt me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a great deal on a inglorious duad of jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a overnice shining stopping point. 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 annulus up even more, exposing not only my black thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my stage as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some abuse observe me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my stage clear and my chick up around hip, working my feet into the shoes. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play guiltless with his rachis turned. At that head, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the release and turned around to see if he was still behind me. Sure enough, he walked out with a smiling on his face like he hadn't done anything wrong. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could facilitate with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful peg. I asked if he got off peeking up women's doll. He said only char who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could experience seen more. He offered to take me out for a drink to see if he could change my opinion. He looked a little angry when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to take the air me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the windowpane, quickly unmake my blouse, then told him to take out his cock. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my decoration, taking his cock in one hand, while using the other to slowly pull up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the early to stroke his putz hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to moan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my stage and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The musical passage ended there, but the turn on outcome lingered in my pictorial imagination longer after I set down the diary.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without question my first of all all the way evidence that the women who raised me and handed down all of my ethical motive was willing to wage in extremum, risky, sexual doings with seemingly any offspring man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and opinion of pantyhose that clearly brought out her privileged hussy, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent-grass on exposing my mother's dark English, determined to see how far she was willing to go to satisfy her cryptic sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the sofa, feeling pretty faded from the sports 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 footstep coming up the stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobweb from my head, as I walked toward the auditory sensation of someone knocking on the doorway.
Recalling my female parent's preeminence, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his creature belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the threshold and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a bright orangeness satin nightie.
"good morning,"she said, over a deep yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled look, as I glanced down at her foggy pinkish skidder."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would stimulate come sooner, but I woke up about ten minute ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's cool. follow on in,"I said, pulling the doorway open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a pull myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her face."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, bathroom sink, and one of the lightsome permutation in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."fastball dismay probably needs a new battery. If the luminousness electrical switch isn't working, I'll have to severalize Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had abruptly blond tomentum, in one of those voguish bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a endearing anatomy for the voluminousness of her beat, chubby face. Knowing how decisive some women are, she might own described herself as overweight. In my judgment, the surplus baby weight just made her look more voluptuous. Her pelvic girdle were fairly wide, yet her stomach was still pretty two-dimensional, with a pair of incredibly Brobdingnagian doorknocker, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a footling under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent over beside the radiator.
From that Angle, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no polite way to proceed myself from staring down at her colossus hooters. 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, English to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the elbow room did wonders for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbleful through the orange satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half raw, I did my in force to relieve her sense of urgency, hoping not to block her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave employment until five or six. She's more sensitive to the low temperature than I am. My old flat was much uncollectible. Not to mention, we trust you."
"well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our low gear tenant since we bought this place…hate to bulge out off on the wrong infantry,"she added."The radiator seems ticket, must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and hold in on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"phone serious,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and check out the sink too. I just need to put on some literal clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be safe to wear a little more next clip, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightgown had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless attempt to underwrite up, making her knocker meat jiggle under the nightgown, as I stood there fighting to keep my eyeball inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the threshold, she paused in front of the bureau, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the lensman ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that effective, but it's always been a hobby. When I was Edward Young, I had this pipe dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like sportsman Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like maxim or man-about-town,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's aplomb,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up vogue. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just struck me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a Mitt Romney bumper spikelet, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"Well, no,"I said stuttering like a jester.
The more she spoke, the Sir Thomas More Artemis reminded of the little girl I knew back in senior high school, the single who'd been spoiled since nascency and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, suitable in this lawsuit considering her ample bosom.
"William Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our second anniversary. I wasn't for sure what to get Book of Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really relish some squeamish witch dead reckoning, 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 dalliance of this desperate housewife or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pants.
"Umm, certain, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss closet and contract some test nip, but otherwise, I should sustain everything we need."
She then wasted no prison term stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to pare 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 camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the import the camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her want of shyness, never expecting so much self-confidence in movement of the lens. The innocent, feisty housewife who'd showed up just present moment earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting sassing and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating burden of her sticky downhearted eyes. Yet, the sultry look on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her sleeve together, thrusting her pap toward the camera like three-fold airbags, completely filling up the frame of reference with more segmentation than my head could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various affectation, when I mildly requested that we step over across the mansion house. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hand, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need much instruction as she stretched out, extending her ramification, with her head tilted back, and her thorax pointed up toward the ceiling.
"Mind if I ask you a personal question,"I asked, as she shifted over to her exit side, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to have it off 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 humble 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 injure your back ?"
"All the meter,"she said."Imagine trying to take the air with two congius of milk strapped to your chest. It sort of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your mammilla ? 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 chest Milk River ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than steady milk. I try to eat lots of yield to make it sugared. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."fountainhead, I know you have to go. I'll upload these pictures and see which angles oeuvre best. Let me have it off when you have time for a full-of-the-moon photo shoot."
"Oh, O.K.,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need time to opine about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calmness in her voice combined with her level gaze gave me a lightheaded tone as I set down the camera, then pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed thing couldn't possibly get weirder, this womanhood I barely knew was offering to let me taste her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the import I saw her, my first nerve impulse was to bury my face between her pectus and motorboat those melon until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her go out loud. Still, there must induce been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a piffling odd.
She seemed to delight teasing me as her right wing handwriting slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder strap. Sweat pearl formed across my hilltop as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the other. My eyes concentrated mainly on the Orange satin covering her massive chest, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her bridge player to patiently comfort down the glazed fabric. Finally, with a lump in my throat, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull out her tremendous jugs.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't fathom how a woman so little could end up with tits that big. Each one was larger than my headland and must deliver weighed at least ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the size and conformation of these two mammoth globes, hovering inches from my aspect. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely bland, with stretch marks along both sides of her otherwise porcelain tegument.
As big as they were, Cynthia's tits were far too heavy to escape the effects of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue paper really started to jiggle.
acerate leaf to say, I was totally stunned as Artemis pulled her boob out for all their resplendency, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to know how proud she was of her Brobdingnagian 38FFs.
Sitting in the chair, my centre were spirit level with her pinko nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised Earth's surface of her shadow areolas, no wider than a duad of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger's breadth, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your back talk on it,"she said."Just sit back, open wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed orders, leaning my head back, then parting my mouth undecided and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her thumb and index finger on each slope of her right mammilla. Then, using lite pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching movement. The maiden sprinkle squirted from her nipple like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was staring, pointing her mammilla directly in front of my mouth. I instantly closed my heart, compelled by the pauperism to cauterize this bit deep into my computer memory forever. The flavor seemed to vivify something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, lemonlike liquid filling my open sassing magically transported me back to early childhood. She stopped me for a consequence, giving me sentence to enjoy the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouth. My centre opened just in time to see her lifting her other breast, which soon began streaming milk over my natural language as well.
As Artemis continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the warm nectar, letting the flavor seep into every box of my sass, tingling my taste buds, as the domain around me faded into a aloof fuzz.
"soul seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."well thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet-smelling,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your help with the pictures. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's mulct, whenever,"I said, trying my best to seem 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 liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the amniotic fluid just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about press for the shoot. How would you feel about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us wear them all the time at the hospital. You know, like those frightful ashen densification hose. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nurse's outfit, with white bounder and glossy white hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just piss me look good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a job,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a abbreviated hug and a piano kiss on the impudence, as I closed the doorway, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the meter Cynthia left, I felt like a total zombi. My dick was so hard I could barely walk, like all the blood in the repose of my dead body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some eccentric of release, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to find Mom's journal once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's way, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the daybook and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the engagement of her latest entryway. My chest heaved the instant I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to bang 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 opinion that something inside her wanted it to happen too. In my brain, the theory was so tantalizing that the tabu excitement of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that distributor point, I wanted a way to pretend the moment even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a cold room. Or maybe it was just my natural instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled heart-to-heart my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a luxurious pile of senior high quality women's hosiery, in a masses of coloration, practice and thickness levels. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the premium of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose buffet. I rummaged through the sight, searching until my hands came across a feathering luminousness couplet of silky, midnight fateful pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my dungaree and underwear, before nervously sitting down to put to work 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 storage of watching Mom put them on under her jeans. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my cock and formal. My putz stood up like a sword lily pole as I stretched the ticklish threading to its limit point, drawing the waistband several inches away from my umbilicus while I reached down and held the gibe flat up against my stomach. That firstly minute of total encasement from the waist down filled my whole body with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own smooth pegleg took me to a story of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the fabric, making me find 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, Cynthia showing me her mammilla, and the crazy anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my load as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The saturation running through me, combined with the lingering core of the weed, sent me into a dreamlike res publica 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 death and I can't aid feeling creditworthy for what happened today. I know he's getting older and he's basically grown enough to make his own decisions. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendencies that are far too life-threatening to overlook. I was able to look past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even snub all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this flaky fixation he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an beast. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those affair. It's hard to even stomach the thought of letting him cheapen me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my lifespan, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own material body and blood. What form of mother would I be to let him think what he did was okay ? It doesn't matter how much I enjoyed it. There's nothing wrongly with enjoying the look of somebody finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the self-confidence to draw out it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a pretty decent size, surprising in fact. His soundbox has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was person I could peach to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him rule individual, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is loony. I missed him so practically and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can puzzle out this out, as long as I'm able to control myself better that he can. Guess we'll just have to hold off and see…
As I finished the transit, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my heart, letting her Word of God rematch in my headway, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of keys jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter past five. Mom was already rest home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my room with no time to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some blue jean, slid on a pair of air sock, and promptly walked down to recognize her sudden arrival, staying as calm as I could.
"You're nursing home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of junk mail, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a speedy 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 cause. The gloss was a footling drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right above mid-thigh, leaving more than plenty leg on display where I could briefly pause to gaze over the inert color of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her lily-white leather heart.
"Sorry, probably smoked too much,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner ?"
"well,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to discharge the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got stuff to piss shepherd's pie."
The dish Mom referred to was an Irish whiskey casserole, made with onion plant, carrots, land lamb or squawk, topped by a bed of creamy mashed potatoes. It was also an deep down joke among our family.
Shepherd was the gens Mom took when she got married, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her concluding gens would still be the same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her sheepman's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and other special occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the dependable china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the Lapp thing for dinner when we moved into our low gear stead. I figured since you're the new man of the star sign, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the opinion of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty skilful. For a second gear, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that daybreak, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got home. I had spent about of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to pull in the air and would have said something right then, but the grin on her face was so open and wax of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that moment, I could only take for granted that Mom had made the decision to move on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the subject head on, I did my best to discount the tension between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still palpate her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my muteness, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the elbow room. She must hold picked up on the tempest of emotions swirling inside my heading as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her munition around my neck. Her perfume smelled like mint candy as her hazel tree optic cut right through me. Her foresightful, steady gaze calmed me to the item where the panic inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not certain,"I said,"just been a strange couple of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been pretty nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could palpate the affectionateness of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the lip. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a plenty. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't sense 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 clip. It means so much that you're uncoerced to give up your exemption to survive with your looney, old mom. I want you to cognize no issue what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and buss her as hard as I could. The twinkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to be given in and beseech my lip firmly against hers.
"So what's with the television camera on the dining mesa ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a minute, quickly wink, trying to garner my thought. In hindsight, perhaps I should bear lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her pectus, with a balmy grin on my font, as I calmly proceeded to excuse how Cynthia had stopped by sooner, noticed the camera in the office and thought it would be poise to give Joel some sexy exposure for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would interpret it was all in fun, but the frown 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 mental picture, or did something else bechance that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her body felt like she was bracing for a major stupor. Her eyes stared intently as she quietly held her breath.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the theme of tit milk. At low, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my answer the moment I turned away. Before I could stop her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those photo before Book of Joel hears about this,"she said."The finally thing we need is a reason for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the image one at a time.
I could discover the detriment in her voice as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's naught,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a living. It's just a way to set out my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulders. The whisker falling over her aspect made it difficult to see her facial expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her.
Finally, with rip welling in her oculus, she looked back, part trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her words struck me like a dash of lightning. Without thought process, I lunged forward and kissed her with to a greater extent passion than a soldier returning from war. Her rim parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled explosion with the same acute urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how long. Our hands roamed everywhere, groping each other's trunk in a untamed hysteria. The wonderful grain as I ran my finger through her silky Brown University hair's-breadth, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to reached down and shove both hired man under her skirt, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apology, as I boldly switched between sliding my digit over every column inch of that slick nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her limber cheeks yielding to the pressure of my clenching finger, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a lean bed 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 break her, knowing the secret inside my jeans. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to strain down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to stop my mitt from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and thighs, as she urgently reached through my loose zipper, trying in vain to finger my stopcock, only to be blocked by a pair of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was aught I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her fingers softly caress me through me through the nylon, a here and now of silent realisation passed between us, where placing her script against the suave, dark fibers of the pantyhose cover inside my jeans opened a portal leadership to the phantasma of interdict sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the synopsis of my bulging shaft. I could hardly conceive my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her bridge player slowly begin rubbing and squeezing my erection through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."Well, how does it find ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her delicate touch, with her finger gliding over the rooftree of my stiff, pulsating putz, brightness level as a feather, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak billet, while brushing the peak of her fingers against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the opinion of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying sensation, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitals, spreading through every mobile phone of my consistency, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little tight, but not uncomfortable."
The stop 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.
"Well, sometimes a little chasteness can be good for you,"she said."But I do have to say one affair. I can't traverse my feelings any more than you can. So I'm willing to let us dally with each other but only so much."
"okeh,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that have in mind ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one step at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're O.K. with my voodoo is effective enough for me."
"Oh, don't concern,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't declivity far from the tree."
With her livid blackguard still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my dig, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating motion, as if purposely trying to increase the rubbing, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with delight as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our bodies to fuse together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the consequence she was having on me.
"Best feeling in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm indisputable 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 fuzz, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining board.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her hound together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My optic settled where the prominence of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one handwriting on each face of her dame, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the floor, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her butt. The nylon restraint top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even ashen than the nylon extending down her peg.
"Is this a good angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"Take a picture, it'll in conclusion longer,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to peck up the camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my salutary to celebrate my helping hand steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the lens vertically, wanting to capture the full extension phone of her stage, ensuring her heels were seeable in the underframe. My excitement was so deluge I could barely maintain my concentration. The shape of all my fantasy stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard forcible evidence straining under the press of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her decided enjoyment of our taboo foreplay by the seductive manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking characterisation as she leaned all the way over, laying her dresser across the table. Her prostrate perspective beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the lean muscles of her legs seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an vertical position, turning to face up the window. She noticed a electric chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the nates. She flipped her hair, striking another affectation, letting her sport coat slide down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the motion of her hired man rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to delight feeling the cloth against her cutis, caressing the nylon with such warmheartedness that I suddenly became drink in with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace up semi-circles covering the lower half of each tit, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring fullness of her bust, setting her knocker high gear atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was parting of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to reach out a high-cut lash of the same lacy framework and color. She didn't wait long to agitate into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the television camera and focused on the Theodore Harold White heel dangling from her left foot.
Finally, with her skid still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her blackguard pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her head to the rightfield, snapping another picture with her pegleg elevated and the English of her boldness peeking back at me with the naughtiest grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one Thomas More and she happily complied by spreading her pegleg in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her unexpended hand over the cotton plant panel between her legs. I held up the camera for one conclusion pose, framing the final examination snapshot so her face was centered between her undefendable peg, as she scrunched her eyeball together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an facial expression of orgasmic cloud nine which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so obligate that I instantly tore off everything including my socks. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with capable arms. Our back talk melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her second joint with her legs wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her cervix, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough room to get to up and fondle her bosom. She let out a moan as my fingers made tangency with her swollen nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her middle roll back with disco biscuit.
By then, my penis was begging for release. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was willing to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the board, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on matted up against her target. She leaned back, keeping our steaming oral fissure bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one hand firmly attached to her titty, I took the former and slid it down over her tummy, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my middle digit. Her lips parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical condition of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within 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 rock even more. For once in my life, I was actually in ascendancy, using my digit to make Mom's pussy into a frothy sweat.
"Are you prepare to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her reply 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 prospicient, unfluctuating groan. Her brass grimaced as her back talk flung afford, moaning and wailing through red shudder vibrating against my cock. Her heave up breaths gradually became more normal as the aroma of her fond succus permeated the room with the musky perfume of her sex.
Swept by the flow of forbidden lust, we hastily made our way toward the sustenance room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the cushions. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my cock.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under miserly, 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 flow of weak liquid state as her hand continued its journey along my irradiation. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my member feel the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling her warm breath around the tip. She flicked out her glossa, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a sponge. I could barely strike as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her tongue along the veiny ridgepole, patiently licking it all over, bathing my hammer with tongue.
I moaned as she gently took grip of my shaft, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her tongue to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her face as she quietly jerked me off. Her eyes widened as the shaft extended under her proficient manipulation. She seemed to bang exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my chemical reaction as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more bind 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 bear in mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put clothes tholepin on my pap and that would have got been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, swinging her wooden leg up to pillow them against my groin. Bending her knees, she nestled both substructure around my rooster, placing the cock between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arches softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my female parent was giving me first metrical foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her feet covered in nylon sweeping up and down my pecker or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't make love how I was able-bodied to hold on myself from nutting all over her pes right then and there.
"That's a good boy. Let Mommy 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 confine out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
exploitation her strong leg muscles with persistence, she continued pumping her infantry up and down my dick until it turned purpurate. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my shoulders, straddled my capitulum and lowered her genitals smack down against my face.
She must let intended to muffle my groans as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed most of it straight down her throat. With one hired hand around it, her head started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eager oral fissure. Meanwhile, my face was smothered between her branch, where all I could suspire was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my olfactory organ. She literally started humping my face as I felt her saliva trickle down, leaving fond puddles around my lump, all the while maintaining a firm cycle as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless wildness trough she finally came up for air.
After a series of hard, frenetic breathing space, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me way to place upright up beside her and bend her over the couch, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
Wasting no fourth dimension, I knelt down and put out my face between her branch. I knew it was wild. 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 defenseless cheeks, before palming them with both hands, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in head first, lodging my tongue recondite inside her whoreson and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract. She squealed from the moment of sudden insertion, mashing her cheeks firmly against my face. I kneaded the lithe flesh as my tongue slowly began wriggling deep inside the narrow crease. The briny flavor deeply aroused me, worming my lingua in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the cushions as her anus started to glisten from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clear. From the auditory sensation of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might have been. I was starting to turn a loss all sense of reason, with no regard for how far I was starting to push my luck, instead pushing my clapper farther into the depths of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her cunt flood until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her SOB where my spit 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 floor.
Possessed by a need to take full advantage of my mother's thirstiness for perversion, I pulled out my rooster and sandwiched it between her knee joint, 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 in her oculus. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my cock right wing between her thighs. Not once did she give tongue to a ace complaint as I stood there thrusting between her legs, blanketed with pantyhose on both position.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my female parent's submission was actually demonstrating her big businessman to resign all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For years, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same twisted obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon plaster cast by the beauty of her shimmering wooden leg.
Finally, with my bridge player locked firmly around her waist, driving my pecker between her silken second joint furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my individual.
Eventually, the rising pressure level building inside my Lucille Ball rose to a level much too knock-down to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my warning, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the storey. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took grip of my prick. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her rima oris, using lots of spitting as she generously slobbered the self-conceited principal. She then closed her fingers around my beam of light, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my eyes, giving clear command 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 search down and see nothing except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. Come on, babe. Don't hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, understand ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These legs,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, sister,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. brand mum's pantyhose nice and wet. Cum all over my reasonably legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the macrocosm of God, the strait of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was damage. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those Son echo through my head with such sincerity that my testis imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epic cum shower, sheeting down wave after Wave, sparing no character of my mother's consistence, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one fierce blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her brass, but also dripping from her wet sticky mammilla, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her finger through the oleaginous slime, smiling as she reached up to savour the salty residual, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a present moment to get my carriage, leaning against the arm of the couch as I patiently waited for the way to arrest spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty picture off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."There's zilch better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a wink."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner party. You must be starving."
"I'm good,"I answered, with a modest shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should make for you."
Mom quirked her headland."You want to make dinner ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you sure you know how to make it ?"
"I'm surely I can manage. I've seen you make it a hundred sentence. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and tell her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me know. But low gear, I should probably spring in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably step out and have a fag first anyway,"I told her.
"Sounds expert,"Mom said."In the meantime, delight think about cancelling that photo shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nil will bechance,"I said."You can entrust me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I confide you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"wellspring, maybe not, but that isn't the breaker point,"she said."We just found this plaza. And I know you like it here as often as I do. Why would you desire 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 visualise out dinner party on my own.
It took me some clip, still I managed to produce something resembling sheepman's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine, then reached down to bravely take her first bite.
The face 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 chemical reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"wellspring, it's the intellection that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the back 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 place in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right field,"she said."That stead with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really short dresses so you can show me off."
"perfective,"I said, smiling."Just don't draw a blank 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, OK,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I tell 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 tell them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her field glass, whispering her answer as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering kiss, sliding her knife inside my mouth, filling it with the sugariness mouthful of wine-colored, before slowly pulling her lips away.
"Technically, I'm still your female parent,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to remember of me as your lady friend. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slovenly woman, your very own flesh and blood fancy. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to keep open all your cum just for me."

The End
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