sheepherder's Pie
By Earth Angel Falls

It all started when I was 10 year old, the class my parents got divorced, a convention age for a lanky, soft-spoken only small fry to accept his obsession with Grand stealing automobile blindsided by his maiden crunch.
I had just started next-to-last high, where they made us study boring clobber like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too immature to realize the peril of forbidden lust, yet old enough to remark how my mother would often do the sexy things without knowing it.
matter might have been different had my mother been more unforced to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally keep an eye on at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my free clip with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more singular tendencies.
She had an extensive shoe assembling, near of which were high blackguard. 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 household, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to call for something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a stalk. If she was sitting at place scoring paper, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sunday, though she knew almost zippo about sportsman. She just enjoyed wearing her fit out jersey and a distich of tights, rooting for whichever team had the cute quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her backtalk together and gently blow until it was gone. The intuitive feeling excited me so much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished mellow school, I was so used to being by my mother's side that leaving for college less than an hour away filled me with highly mixed emotions due to all the amazing store left behind.
By my one-third year at Emerson, the gewgaw 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 male friends to aid defeat the boredom.
One dreary afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blue, with the basal estimate of finding a new apartment for us to live on together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with long, flowing, chestnut dark-brown hair, hazel eyes, compressed boldness and skinny lips set between her ellipse Chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red unitard from her resplendency twenty-four hours of eminent school gymnastic exercise, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for balance beam. Still, she kept her body in terrible shape, wearing voguish kit that proudly displayed her pert breasts, closely ass, and serious of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my mother was the hottest woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a full ball up fixation. I tried my easily to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to interest that I seemed to have no interestingness in other girls.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the persuasion of moving back in with my female parent initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, roly-poly flat. My roommate was a aggregate sloven. Yet, in malice of the headaches, and as much as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and division of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to spend my junior year getting hammered every night and screwing as many college girl as possible. At to the lowest degree, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the same skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and make bunglesome jest around girl my own age, to the point where even the despicable ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my front-runner depiction of her on my cell earpiece. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum truehearted than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as hanker as I could think I had always been captivated by my mother's legs. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up case preparation to teach marketing at a nearby community college where the women on faculty often wore pantyhose under their skirts. By that meter, 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 canonic element of her daily business attire distinctly brought out the remarkable looker and attribute of her long, wiggly legs.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just pubescence, but around that meter, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to query why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first place. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic effect immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary bicycle unmentionable was imbued with extraordinary powers luring my eye to lallygag over the slender tone of her lean, slender calf, moving up to the meaty flesh of her firm sculpted thighs, where her foresightful, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her hips, topped by a set of voluptuous beat asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering threads of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very commencement fourth dimension that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one affair that never left me was an urgent impulse to face down and gaze over the daze aureole emanating from her legs. From the bottom of all her suddenly skirts, down to the tips of her toes, each pair she wore had the big businessman to transport me with its own seductive light.
Not a individual day went by where I wasn't sitting at family waiting for her to walk in and kvetch off her aphrodisiacal heel. My dreamy eyes followed as she tiptoed around the family, lost in the affectionate glow of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The prospicient I stared, the more I became heroic to tip my growing obsession at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't strange for me to pull out my camera and get her to posture for me out in populace. She'd always been the case of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing pastime in photography. Eventually, I managed to pick up XII of pictures, all of which focused on her foresighted, gorgeous ramification. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her characterization after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to refer being her son.
My ducky word-painting for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before teaching, working in corporal America had given her many years to educate this particular skill. As a civilize professional, she was far too graceful to take one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her oral sex up and her buoyant breasts pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, traverse her deal under her skirt, then with full extension, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, sleek shank, the lush contour visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her business firm shapely calves in deliciously consummate alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the cereal, a thrilling audio that instantly made my dick throb audition that subtle swish.
Deep down, I knew it was incorrect. Still, I often tried to convert myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the hottest woman on Earth. Her voice alone sent tingle down my spine, with the gross verbiage and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident pedagog, with only the slightest touch of a typical New England emphasis.
Despite being over 40, her nutritious diet and friendly demeanor gave her a youthful gleam. She barely ate more than than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every morning. While it was clearly a incontrovertible matter, her sound lifestyle only encouraged my strong-arm attraction to persist in building and turn more mighty each day.
Her bra sizing was an average 34-B. Yet, her small chest proudly stood out in contrast with her petite waistline, jutting from the flimsy material of her cockeyed blouses and low-necked tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to imagine she still had indigence. Yet, to my fix noesis, after the divorce, she had no men in her life. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much meter worrying if I was getting laid, she might induce had time to engagement. She should have had offers lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might ingest been somewhat biased by my own forbidden infatuation and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my dick. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell number flashed up across the screen. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her better pictures, taken in Times Square. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black miniskirt, Joseph Black pumps, and a radiant pair of tan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the picture just as Mom walked over to stick next to a tall New York streetlight. It was like she could say my cerebration as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only half seeable under her long hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her frontal bone against the hoary pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the tv camera, flexing her leave knee behind her back. She stood there holding the airs for several s, with one shoe playfully lifted off the background and a grin on her face as bright as the pantyhose on her ramification.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the earpiece up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to detect the noisy jangle of belt ammunition, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a hour ?"she said quickly."There's something important I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her voice that told me it must be dangerous. Still, I'd just spent the last five minutes drooling over her sexy photos. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my last trip menage. She had over a twelve. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't observance if I only took one. My cock was already throbbing. All I could intend about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hired hand, then taking my silky fingers and wrapping them gently around my putz. Naturally, the to a greater extent she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My letting is up in two calendar month,"she said."I just got a letter that my rent is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can yield that."
"okey,"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 to prompt out. I was actually wondering how you'd feel if I moved up to Boston."
At that detail moment, I probably should experience been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so undecomposed around my prick that I almost blurted out yes without intellection, just for the probability to be up stopping point and personal with her astonish legs again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it often thought myself. I'm just not sure 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 interrogative sentence hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the instructor's waiting room,"she said."I'm on my luncheon rupture. Why ?"
"No reasonableness,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her legs crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one horseshoe off her foundation, 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 have things easier ?"
"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 squeamish place for the two of us."
It took me another mo to react. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the smooth velvety grain of the nylon. My hose-covered digit were gently grazing up and down the distance of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely concentrate. I was too fussy wondering what her unblock hand was doing as she sat there with one bridge player holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her digit over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many 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 be intimate for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the instructor's lounge, in full view of anyone walk by.
"semen on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always find workplace at another campus. Plus we can rule a place with more quad for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a sentiment, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her chick riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a trace of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her pegleg.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep back myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to talk to pry about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roomie, even if our letting was calendar month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some primer coat rules,"I added, when I started to see the exemption I'd be giving up purely to see her legs every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to make the rules now, huh ? OK. Like what ?"
"Nothing John R. Major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be certainly we'll respect each other's privacy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys base or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to interest about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My hold was stiff, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more delicate friction to my teasing hand strokes.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each other's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you space to smoke skunk and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porno you have on your computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's nil you can obscure from me."
"Mom, what the hell,"I said, voicing my pain in the ass."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her number 1 response was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her words carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a piffling bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very openhanded. It doesn't make sentience that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's mass of real cleaning woman out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Redeemer, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit uneasy."I never knew you had such a thing for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should inclose you to some of the teachers here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the opinion of her checking my computer behind my backrest, by then my school principal was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the field to something Sir Thomas More energize."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a endorse, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The elevator in her vox told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must experience been reading my psyche,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nix but compliments all day. It was skillful telling everyone my son picked them out."
"sang-froid,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't wait to see how they look."
"Well, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at places in the morning. You should fall with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to occur,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds adept. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might want to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be all right,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jeans. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a pair,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the content.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jeans,"I repeated, resisting the urge 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 concern in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another moment or so before I exploded all over my hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just make sure as shooting you tell Jimmy to wear upon some trouser this time. It's a niggling awkward seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a daimon."But then again, you can't really blame him. That dame you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was pattern duration. The chick I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"wellspring that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you keep your scholar from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's variety of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"stop it, Mom. You look dandy. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other womanhood. We all like to learn it."
"fountainhead, 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 polar moment. In 19 yr, my female parent had never asked me a inquiry as directly intimate as that. My balls were practically about to abound. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to sound my affected desire to run my hands over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her aphrodisiac branch. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an answer intended to hide my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to take a unearthly crook. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, tell me,"she added, with a hardiness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the like meter."Seriously, I want to sleep with,"she compact, as I held back what felt like a monolithic eruption."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those dingy website ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't William 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 lecture about this anymore."
"Okay, mulct,"she said."I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Just evidence me one thing. Which part of a woman's body do you like almost ? Wait, let me venture, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My best pick was to push back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we drop down it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't diaphragm there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the United States Department of State I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, stop it. I can't withdraw this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this unscathed mind. It's bad enough you can't detect a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"flavor Mom, for the last time,"I said, starting to recede 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 ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose hoodoo I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the clock time. I certainly don't want you having sexual thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to secern you how unfitting that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how out or keeping it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't aid. By then, I was pummeling my dick with a retribution, knack on ruining her pantyhose no thing what, dying to soak every thread with a monolithic wad of heavyset greasy punk, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible store that triggered my fetish in the number one post.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the mansion wearing see-through pantyhose with no wench on. I could see her returning from oeuvre in her black fuck-me pumps, the cold smell of dampness, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swell up feet. I could even visualize the way she smiled as she walked down the street, coxa switching from side to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the sound of her transfix hound clicking on the sidewalk, only to amount home, flake off her pantyhose and carelessly dispose them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my tongue over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her firm, musky scent.
My lurid computer memory pushed me right over the border. With each violent jet, I was forced to stifle my itch to groan, watching jets of cum blast into the air, surging from the head word of my putz, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hired man, while my mother patiently waited on the early end, with no approximation what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my heady act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to collect myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"spirit 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 tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being honest. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an authoritative decision, I think you should severalise me everything. tell apart me the true statement, 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 probably sense that I was lying, which would only reach her angry and potentially baffle any hazard of us moving back in together. On the other mitt, telling the truth would most in all probability freak her out so a great deal that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even risky.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the commencement thing I usually did was try to guess what Mom would do if she was in my locating. That's when it hit me that the undecomposed way to respond her question was to move around it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be honorable,"I said, pausing before cunningly attempting to redirect."But first I'd like to get wind what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short breath."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess up with your principal. I think if we're going to experience together, then you have to promise to find oneself a girlfriend and embark on keep in the real human race. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"good,"she said."I'll see you in the dawning. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next morn, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, sinister, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver grey necklace which failed to preserve me from noticing the segmentation swelling over her plunging neckline. Her blue tightly fitting jeans sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every curve under skin-tight dungaree, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, opprobrious leather sandals, with thin shoulder strap spanning over her raw feet.
Looking down at the manacle of her jeans, the offset matter I noticed was the disturbing absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole nighttime tossing and turning in anticipation of seeing them the adjacent morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how implicated she was talking about my fetish. So the last affair I wanted to do was forebode any undue attention to it right-hand away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roommate, Jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grin on his face told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshake. For a few proceedings, she and Jimmy stood there making small talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could 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 shoemaker's last pair of pantyhose with a sheer blackguard and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the pair I'd taken from her dresser. So I promptly fished them from the pile of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give her a instant 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 pull in that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow crack, knowing it was wrong, yet still ineffectual to pull my eyes from watching her undress.
With her binding turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a prison term, enjoying the adorable heap of jean smothering her tight rung butt. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her hands went up to her side of meat. She hooked her thumbs into the peg down girdle and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips side of meat to side. I fully expected to see pantie, or at least a G-string, resisting the urge to gasp as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her defenseless ass. My prick instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a clear prospect of her outer snatch lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any consequence. Still, my unbelievable chance was too good to pass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her fingerbreadth, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her agile fingers rolled up the offset leg. She then lifted her left foot, then reached down and slid the ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slew the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended articulatio genus. She set down her left-hand foot, then steadily raised the early, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right metrical unit inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her genu, drawing the nylon column inch by inch over her supple thighs, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely hips under the strain waistband, making one final exam fitting to personal line of credit up the stitching along her narrow butt wisecrack, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a wondrous layer of tan, lustrous, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a couple of half-moons.
I could have stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to throw in while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and beguile me at any moment.
I went back to the livelihood room to recover jimmy rolling a joint, which I'd come to have a bun in the oven as constituent of his forenoon routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a prospicient talking where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, jimmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to go in with his girlfriend in a few hebdomad anyway. Fortunately, there were no difficult feelings between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roommate was soon to be.
import later, my lovely mother finally returned from my way, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her pretty feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the doorway, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her view. 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 wheel and turned on the local eighties station. The song on the tuner thankfully managed to calm my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly wry lyric poem.
"Every little affair she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the following couple of hours going from one ugly, over-priced flat to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second floor walk-up apartment, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The sign was owned by a young, honeymooner mates named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first story. Book of Joel was a successful contractor in the metropolis. Cynthia was a erstwhile nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given parentage to their first child. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judgment by the sizing of her enormous titty which seemed to calculate for nearly half her body weight unit, especially considering how unforesightful she was. If I had to imagine, I would have said she was easily a G-cup…With a majuscule G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big tits !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inch shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Artemis had graduated from the same luxuriously school as my mother, only eight long time later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our eyes. The situation had literally everything we wanted, gamey ceiling, hardwood storey, with tons of space, including a large eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and aliveness room area, divided by sliding double threshold. On the right was a small office, a diminished Edgar Albert Guest john, then the kitchen, followed by a small store space, with a door to the back porch, and stairs leading up to the dome. The attic had been completely remodeled for new renter, with two bedrooms, and a enceinte master bath.
Mom and I signed the lease in a issue of Clarence Day, agreeing to move in by Oct 1st.
The move itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired mover to handle all the big furniture. Then, on Billy Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hours. Sometime around noon, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no intellectual nourishment. I offered to start unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and start removing the point inside. It was mostly packed with old Christian Bible and photo record album, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound diary which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty elbow room and quietly cracked open the get-go Sir Frederick Handley Page.
The showtime entrance was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The first few entries weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing firm she'd worked at during her wedlock. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks card. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for individual else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was someone to a greater extent traditional and slavish. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much glad with his new trophy married woman. So there really was cipher else for Mom to do except strike on.
I read through the first five or six Page, when things started to plunk up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with Mike Louis Henri Sullivan in the stairwell over by his business office. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 years younger than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't stop 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 move the copier outside his office. I love how he always comes over and cast off his pen on the floor. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just run along. At first-class honours degree, he would dismiss it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to lollygag down there and stare at my peg for a while. It's pretty funny remark to find out. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the Same matter. He must really care my branch. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The lastly thing I want to do is block him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about microphone. Emmett Kelly and redbreast are throwing a goodbye political party for me tomorrow nighttime. microphone said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could secern he liked it too. His putz got really intemperately when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No curiosity 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 designate up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were plentifulness of other guys there who liked it. Never thought I could deplumate off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next workweek. It was kind of odd being the shopping centre of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know Robin was pretty covetous. I told her to stop purchasing me guessing. Besides, no one puts stripper terminal in a bar full of sottish cleaning woman expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussy for everyone. I did wear off 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 ask to get love. I should probably invest in a good vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would determine it. He's always sneaking into my room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my panty drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The last thing I want to line up is a huge cum stain on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some spot I'll have a talk with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's phallus. I really bid his founding father were here…
I would let kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the room. I headed back below trying to swear out all the misrepresented thinking scrambling through my head. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to bask getting attention from younger men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought process of Mom willingly behaving like a slut really got me excited. I stepped out onto the back porch, where I lit up a fag, trying to steady myself down.
The view from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the pall were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the turning point of the room, I spotted an empty rocking chair, succeeding to what looked like the rail on a babe's crib. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the babe in her arms. Even from such a in high spirits Angle, it was virtually impossible to front down and see anything other than her walloping titmouse. The image reminded me of those IMAX motion-picture show where they show you the Earth from quad and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't supporter grinning at the unclouded Amytal push up sweater she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro luminousness, watching as she sat down, only to pant in skepticism when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already horny as fuck, as I watched Cynthia reach up and unsnap her bra from the figurehead, letting her left breast fizzle through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's mouth over her swollen nipple. My hale animation I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and forth. I've always preferred legs, but there was no denying the beaut of Cynthia's phenomenal jugs. The size of it of her breasts reminded me of my days back at the pizza store, where we laid out the pelf until it rose into soft, round, flesh-coloured mounds. The longer I watched, the more I found myself jealous of her short boy and the blissful look on his face as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my putz couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front man doorway. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back inside.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a short, heather Robert Gray, New England nationalist T-shirt, with black spandex yoga pants, and a couplet of brown fur-lined boots. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no war paint, yet I still wanted to bend her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get much done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's fine. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"goodness doubt,"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 stern, while Mom leaned against the rejoinder and started to eat.
After one sharpness, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front end of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my cervix and her branch stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would give answered, if only she hadn't chosen that take moment to set her ass on top of my groyne. The frown on her face instantly told me she could sense how hard I was. I expected her to spring right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this tormented look on her face like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this cold, distant facial expression in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone call over again. Only this time, there was no clever way for me to reel it. I was far too humiliated to front her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my fountainhead. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the smoothness of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my hammer.
Intended for yoga, the leging felt more like velvety tights, not slew like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the sense of touch. On the plus side, the cloth 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 in front of her.
"Maybe you should assure me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still ineffective to face up her, I lifted my sweaty palms and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her head."flavor, I understand that you're Danton True Young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the menage like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you call back what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girl isn't that slow. It takes time."
"Okay, maybe you're right,"she said."So in the interim, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just give to parcel out with it on my own."
"Fine,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the logical thing to do in that situation would cause probably been to stand up and go to my way. Instead of doing that, I chose to attain ignitor of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was willing to get a sense of humor about the whole thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her head back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow-minded slits of her optic.
"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a poke in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with multitude calling me a wimp. I'd never been good at athletics. In school, I got picked on for being the scrawny boy in class. girl pointed and laughed at my scrawny habitus, knowing I was too poulet to fight back. I'd been putting up with tough for as long as I could remember. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"Okay, time out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your pants, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a mild laugh and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just have a bun in the oven me to brush off you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is normal ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some heart,"Mom said, dropping her mind to her chest, before wearily rubbing her frontal bone. After a brief moment, she slowly raised her head up, responding with a short circuit nod, as she quietly answered."Fine, do what you want. I can't stop consonant you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would have been easy to intercept right hand there. I could make easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarette, and light one up right in social movement of me. She wasn't a smoking car and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own rule about smoking inside the theatre. Still, after clearing a infinite for herself on the mesa, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her stage in ignominious spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of smoke."You're favourable I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to excuse why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my script's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a second, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in hand, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sump, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a small plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chairman where I was sitting. nursing bottle in hand, she leaned over the head of my rooster, squirting out a generous ball of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"volition that assist ?"she said, with a smile on her brass which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the fundament, making her sentinel as I slid my balled clenched fist up to the brain, spreading the application over my veiny foreskin, making it glitter from all sides, enabling me to enjoy the feeling of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my unbending putz, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my proficiency, imagining one day to finger her hand instead of my own. The look on her facial expression lacked any sort of expression, as if to prevent me from noticing any sign of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really hie this up,"she said, dropping her bridge player to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could turn around and register 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, fiddling boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I bet at your ass ?'”
earreach her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of unquestioning mightiness, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with exuberance.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I look at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out lupus erythematosus than three in from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."
My oral fissure watered at the vision of her Shirley Temple legging stretched taut over the breaking ball of her firm shapely rump. She kept her metrical unit together, accentuating the gradient where the small of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the blind drunk cloth, so amazingly round and full, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm gladiolus you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more orderliness from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. interpret ?"
"okeh,"I whispered, losing my breath."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my female parent to turn over around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her forefinger finger, directing me to stand in movement of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden hindquarters, keeping her leg together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her sozzled glutes,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then shew me,"she said."Show me how horny you are right now. Let me feel it. Let me feel that hot load all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the sound of her vocalization nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to flick off in our steel new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her blackamoor yoga trouser ?
I should give birth accepted it for the exclusive right that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no probability to respond, as I lunged forward and slammed my prick smell up against her butt, a forceful collision softened by the legging and the meaty flesh underneath, the staring shock absorber for my throbbing penis to grind against her bland, velvety rump.
She let out a panicky screeching, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal protest as I violently started thrusting my pelvic girdle back and Forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of path, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said naught in return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my cock. Her voice was raspy and out of breathing place, with her head forward, fuzz swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your shaft is so tough. Oh my God, don't layover. Yes sister, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me feel your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so much tinder come gushing out of my cock like a break down H2O independent. The force out of each spasm was so red that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my branch gave out. My face was buried in her hairsbreadth as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our consistence mashed together, the lingering sensation of her soft impertinence pressed up against my pecker milked out the remaining seed flowing from my aching ball.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my base, the disastrous leggings bed cover over Mom's ass were completely coated under a slurred layer of white-hot creamy froth, rolling down the disastrous spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist snatch.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for lyric as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go alteration,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a 2nd, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good musical theme,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the future ten minutes, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that good afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only accept she needed as much time to action what had just happened as I did. We spent the balance of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking near of our affair. Mom spent almost of her clip in the kitchen, while I worked in the support way hooking up our television and stereoscopic photograph. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some ally from school who were hanging out business district. By the time I got plate, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an hollow household. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely enough time to grab a fast exhibitioner, throw on some dress and race off to get to my dawning class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to vex that my foolish natural process had managed to bankrupt everything on our world-class day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the fear of Mom telling me to move out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thinking of going home, sure of what was destined to come.
My last class ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, jemmy had kindly given me two troy ounce of Blue Dream. So I figured the best thing to do was go family, smoke a bowl and have a duet beers, just to gear up myself for the foul mood my female parent was surely to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the business firm, I instantly remembered my mother's diary, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the same box where I'd left it, right at the human foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the shopping center. I was kind of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to push aside it rather than causing a fit. He was well dressed for a untried guy with a nice business lawsuit like he could have been a attorney 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 mo I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could possess got up and found another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and kept my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd relocation on. After a minute of arc, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take the hint and go away. He must stimulate thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to take the air over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how nervous he was to approach me. I was variety of insulted, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not break him one just to do it with his principal. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my pelvic arch toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a import, holding them unfastened to show him the black thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four meter, crossing my peg back and forth. Each time, I held my legs open for a indorsement, letting him see up my chick. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to accompany me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a swell deal on a black span of jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a skillful lustrous polish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my pitch-black G-string, but about of the pantyhose covering my stage as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert keep me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my peg receptive and my skirt up around hips, working my feet into the shoes. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play innocent with his back turned. At that decimal point, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the exit and turned around to see if he was still behind me. certain enough, he walked out with a grinning on his face like he hadn't done anything incorrect. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a cleaning lady with beautiful branch. I asked if he got off peeking up women's skirts. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to take me out for a deglutition to see if he could vary my opinion. He looked a little furious when I turned him down, making the fault of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly undid my blouse, then told him to take out his turncock. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my medal, taking his turncock in one hand, while using the early to slowly pull up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my button, while using the other to stroke his cock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to moan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his burden rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a unmarried word…
The handing over ended there, but the drive out consequence lingered in my vivid imagination longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without dubiousness my inaugural clear grounds that the women who raised me and handed down all of my ethics was unforced to charter in extreme, high-risk, intimate conduct with seemingly any young man with a rooster. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and flavor of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my mother's wickedness face, determined to see how far she was willing to go to satisfy her deepest sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footsteps coming up the steps. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobweb from my drumhead, as I walked toward the audio of someone knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's banknote, I fully expected to see Book of Joel standing there wearing his tool whang. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a bright orange satin nightie.
"Good daybreak,"she said, over a deep yawning, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled look, as I glanced down at her fuzzy pink slippers."Actually, it's good 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 minutes ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your married man. But that's assuredness. add up on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a twist myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her face."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a listing of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, privy cesspit, and one of the idle switches in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."Smoke warning device probably needs a new barrage fire. If the light switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Book of Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the livelihood way, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Artemis had short blond tomentum, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely frame for the comprehensiveness of her turn, chubby font. Knowing how critical some womanhood are, she might have described herself as overweight. In my opinion, the extra child weight just made her seem more voluptuous. Her hip joint were fairly wide, yet her stomach was still pretty flat, with a pair of incredibly huge titty, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a little under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and hang over beside the radiator.
From that Angle, as she leaned over to check off the valves, there was no polite way to keep myself from staring down at her titan hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Artemis's tits reminded me of those heavy bags down at the gym, two of them, side to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonders for her mammilla too, swelling and poking out like thimble through the orange tree satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apologia for showing up half defenseless, I did my best to relieve her sense of importunity, hoping not to stymie her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave employment until five or six. She's more medium to the cold than I am. My old flat was a good deal worse. Not to cite, we trust you."
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first tenants since we bought this place…hate to start off on the wrong foot,"she added."The radiator seems very well, must be a job with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny-goat and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the sister. I can fix it right after that."
"Sounds secure,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and tally out the sump too. I just need to put on some real clothes."
"No rushing, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be sound to fall apart a little more following time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightdress had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless attempt to brood up, making her titty meat jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to preserve my eyeball inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in front of the position, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that dependable, but it's always been a hobby. When I was young, I had this dreaming of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like play Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like axiom or Playboy,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's aplomb,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up panache. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just struck me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a Mitt Romney bumper toughie, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"Well, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the Sir Thomas More Cynthia reminded of the girls I knew back in mellow school, the ones who'd been spoiled since nascency and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy tendency, desirable in this case considering her bountiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."succeeding calendar month is our bit day of remembrance. I wasn't certainly what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some nice bewitch nip, 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 man and wife. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle flirtation of this desperate woman of the house or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pant.
"Umm, surely, I could help oneself you with that,"I said."We'll have to talk about press and take some test barb, but otherwise, I should deliver everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the place, where she leaned up against the paries and slowly proceeded to peel down the right strap of her nightie, letting it come off her shoulder.
"Will the igniter in here piece of work 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 bit the camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so much confidence in front line of the lens. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting back talk and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating effect of her steamy blue heart. Yet, the sultry look on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely ready me for the moment she crossed her weapons system together, thrusting her tits toward the camera like treble airbags, completely filling up the frame with Thomas More cleavage than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various poses, when I mildly requested that we step over across the hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hand, Ieading her into the dining way, where I then helped her go up up onto the table.
She didn't need practically statement as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her drumhead tilted back, and her pectus pointed up toward the ceiling.
"Mind if I ask you a personal inquiry,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left side, returning my dubiousness with a knowing smile.
"You want to get it on how big they are."
"well, yeah,"I said,"not to be bad-mannered or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be smaller before I got pregnant. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they hurt your back ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two gallons of milk strapped to your dresser. It sort of flavor like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use formula, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My breast Milk River ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than fixture Milk River. I try to eat fate of fruit to make up it sweeter. Otherwise, it's variety of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't halt much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these picture show and see which angles employment best. Let me bed when you have time for a fully photo shoot."
"Oh, okeh,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need clock time to retrieve 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 faint tactual sensation 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 knocker milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the minute I saw her, my maiden impulse was to bury my face between her thorax and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial jounce prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must birth been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little rummy.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her aright bridge player slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her leave alone shoulder strap. lather bead formed across my brow as she fixed her heart on me and quietly peeled down the early. My optic concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her massive chest, where Artemis reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently relieve down the shiny fabric. Finally, with a ball in my pharynx, I looked on intently as Artemis managed to tear out her enormous jugs.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't sound how a woman so lowly could end up with tits that big. Each one was large than my head and must have weighed at to the lowest degree ten pound, as I sat there entranced by the size and physical body of these two gigantic world, hovering inches from my human face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely polish, with stretch marks along both side of meat of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's boob were far too heavy to get out the core of solemnity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the voiced tissue really started to jiggle.
Needless to say, I was totally stunned as Artemis pulled her tits out for all their resplendence, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to bang how proud she was of her huge 38FFs.
seance in the chairwoman, my eyes were storey with her pink pap, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her shadow areola, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, open wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed orderliness, leaning my psyche back, then parting my lip out-of-doors and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her quarter round and index finger on each side of meat of her powerful tit. Then, using light pressing, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The first gear sprinkle squirted from her tit like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfect, pointing her nipple directly in front of my sass. I instantly closed my eye, compelled by the demand to sunburn this moment deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious. The confection, sourish liquid filling my clear mouth magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me sentence to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my oral fissure. My eyes opened just in time to see her lifting her other breast, which soon began streaming milk over my clapper as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the warm ambrosia, letting the sapidity seep into every corner of my oral cavity, tingling my taste buds, as the creation around me faded into a distant blur.
"person seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sugariness,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your avail with the characterization. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's amercement, whenever,"I said, trying my best to appear 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 waters 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 fatigue them all the time at the hospital. You know, like those ugly white condensation hose. It makes me rub just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter whack ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nurse's rig, with Andrew D. White cad and sheeny whiteness hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just fix me look beneficial. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the room access. She left me with a legal brief hug and a mild candy kiss on the brass, as I closed the threshold, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the time Cynthia left, I felt like a tot zombie. My gumshoe was so severe I could barely walk, like all the blood in the repose of my body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some type of sack, as I slowly mouse 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 room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the day of the month of her latest entry. My chest heaved the moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut feeling that something inside her wanted it to go on too. In my mind, the possibility was so tantalizing that the prevent upheaval of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that point, I wanted a way to take in the moment even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a moth-eaten room. Or maybe it was just my natural inherent aptitude taking over as I walked over and pulled open my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to incur a luxurious heap of high quality women's hose, in a masses of colors, figure and thickness levels. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the bounty of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose sideboard. I rummaged through the good deal, searching until my handwriting came across a feather clean brace of silky, midnight black pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my jeans and underclothing, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking instruction from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her jean. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to lick out stretching the nylon over my cock and orchis. My dick stood up like a signal flag celestial pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its bound, drawing the sash several column inch away from my navel while I reached down and held the pecker flat up against my tummy. That starting time instant of add encasement from the waistline down filled my unanimous soundbox with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the joy sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own quiet pegleg took me to a degree of exhilaration I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my phallus beneath the fabric, making me feel right at home.
Ready to start reading, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my female parent letting me cum on her ass, Artemis showing me her mammilla, and the dotty anticipation of what I had yet to say, 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 outcome of the grass, sent me into a dreamlike state as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting dissimilar lately. I love him to death and I can't assist feeling responsible 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 serious to look out on. I was able-bodied to see past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even dismiss all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this bizarre obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animal. 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 thing. It's hard to even stomach the thought of letting him take down me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty matter in my life, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own flesh and roue. What kind of mother would I be to let him think what he did was okey ? It doesn't matter how much I enjoyed it. There's zilch incorrect with enjoying the feeling of someone finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to tear it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a middling becoming size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was somebody I could utter to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him find somebody, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is gaga. I missed him so a lot and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work this out, as long as I'm able to hold myself dependable that he can. Guess we'll just have to wait and see…
As I finished the passageway, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my eyes, letting her words replay in my brain, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of keys jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quartern past times five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my elbow room with no time to fill off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a pair of socks, and promptly walked down to recognize her sudden arrival, staying as calm as I could.
"You're home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of junk ring armor, as I noticed a bag of foodstuff resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a quick grin."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish gray business organization suit. The gloss was a fiddling drab, but the cut was extremely blandish, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off the right way above mid-thigh, leaving more than enough leg on show where I could briefly pause to gaze over the achromatic vividness of the sheer bone pantyhose stretching down to her white leather ticker.
"Sorry, probably smoked too a lot,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner party ?"
"Well,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to empty the bag."Since it's our starting time functionary home-cooked meal in our new stead, I went out and got material to name sheepman's pie."
The dish antenna Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with Allium cepa, carrot, land lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed Irish potato. It was also an at bottom joke among our menage.
sheepman was the epithet Mom took when she got conjoin, the epithet she'd kept after the divorce so her hold out epithet would still be the same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her sheepman's pie was normally reserved for natal day and other special occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the good china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your begetter and I had the same matter for dinner when we moved into our firstly space. I figured since you're the new man of the family, I should name it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty good. For a endorsement, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly turn over when she got family. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would have said something right then, but the smile on her face was so open and wide-cut of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that second, I could only sham that Mom had made the determination to move on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter foreland on, I did my best to push aside the tautness between us, though it wasn't well-situated, especially when I could still find her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her implements of war around my neck. Her perfume smelled like mint confect as her hazel eyes cut right through me. Her recollective, steady regard calmed me to the stage where the panic inside me gradually started to fleet away.
"Why are you so tense up ?"she said, massaging between my cervix and shoulders.
"Not sure,"I said,"just been a foreign span of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been passably courteous,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could palpate the warmth of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the lips. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a passel. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't feel my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how much I missed you all this time. It means so often that you're willing to fall in up your freedom to populate with your crazy, old mom. I want you to recognize no topic what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to take hold of her and snog her as hard as I could. The sparkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not rend away, as I boldly prepared to tend in and fight my lip firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining mesa ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a consequence, quickly blinking, trying to pull in my thoughts. In hindsight, perhaps I should have lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her breast, with a mild grin on my font, as I calmly proceeded to explain how Cynthia had stopped by earlier, noticed the photographic camera in the authority and thought it would be cool to present Book of Joel some sexy exposure for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her face immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her promontory to the side."Are you trusted she just wanted pictures, or did something else encounter that you're not telling me ?"
The stress in her body felt like she was bracing for a Major blow. 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 tranquillity as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the topic of tit Milk River. At start, it was all pretty monetary 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 result the consequence I turned away. Before I could lay off her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left wing and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those icon before Joel hears about this,"she said."The last thing we need is a grounds for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the photographic camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the film one at a time.
I could discover the hurt in her vocalization 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 animation. It's just a way to start my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the articulatio humeri. The whisker falling over her face made it difficult to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her.
Finally, with rip welling in her center, she looked back, vocalism shakiness as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her Holy Writ struck me like a dash of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with to a greater extent cacoethes than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled blowup with the Same vivid importunity.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how retentive. Our manpower roamed everywhere, groping each other's eubstance in a baseless fury. The wondrous texture as I ran my digit through her silky Robert Brown pilus, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my tool, stirred me to reached down and thrust both hired hand under her skirt, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my digit over every inch of that slick nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple cheeks yielding to the pressure of my clenching digit, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy rear end through a thin out layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the secret inside my jeans. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to gain down and seize her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingerbreadth, helpless to halt my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered rose hip and thighs, as she urgently reached through my open zipper, trying in vain to experience my cock, only to be blocked by a pair of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was nothing I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her finger's breadth softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of mum recognition passed between us, where placing her hand against the smooth out, dark fibers of the pantyhose hidden inside my jean opened a portal leading to the shadows of forbidden sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the schema of my bulging shaft. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly begin rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."Well, how does it sense ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her delicate sense of touch, with her finger gliding over the ridgeline of my stiff, pulsating irradiation, luminance as a feather, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my sapless post, while brushing the baksheesh of her fingerbreadth against my sore glans.
My answer described the feeling of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savour the dizzying virtuoso, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cellular telephone of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a fiddling slopped, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her vocalism returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a trivial constraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do have to say one matter. I can't abnegate my touch sensation any more than you can. So I'm leave to let us play with each other but only so much."
"okeh,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that mean ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just look at this one pace at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my fetish is good enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."
With her bloodless heels still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my rotating shaft, bending her knee joint and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grate motion, as if purposely trying to increase the rubbing, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with joy as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from hind end, forcing our bodies to fuse together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the effect she was having on me.
"Best feel in the public,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm sure I can convince you otherwise. Tell me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling flip of her hair, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining table.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her hound together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eye settled where the excrescence of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one hand on each face of her chick, 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 control top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even blanched than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a good angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"Take a exposure, it'll lowest longer,"she said.
I heeded her Holy Scripture promptly, leaning over to beak up the camera where she'd left it on the level. She patiently waited, holding the same airs, as I did my best to keep my script steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the electron lens vertically, wanting to entrance the full university extension of her stage, ensuring her heels were visible in the systema skeletale. My excitement was so overwhelming I could barely sustain my density. The embodiment of all my illusion stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was difficult forcible grounds straining under the pressing of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our out arousal by the seductive mode in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking mental picture as she leaned all the way over, laying her pectus across the mesa. Her prone stance beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the lean sinew of her legs seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright stead, turning to look the window. She noticed a president inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her hound on top of the butt. She flipped her hair, striking another pose, letting her sports jacket slide down over her left wing shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't assist watching the motility of her manus rubbing back and Forth River against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the fabric against her pelt, caressing the nylon with such rawness that I suddenly became rummy with lust.
The sports jacket came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the board. Beneath it was a aphrodisiac demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with enlace semi-circles covering the broken half of each knocker, combined with an underwire to crowd out the alluring fullness of her tear, setting her breast high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was part of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to pretend out a high-cut thong of the same lacy fabric and color. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the tabular array, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg hybridization, as I held up the photographic camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her left foot.
Finally, with her skid still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her ramification perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her heels pointed toward the cap. I watched as she crooked her head to the rightfulness, snapping another picture with her stage elevated and the English of her face peeking back at me with the naughtiest grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her wooden leg in a"V"organization, where she reached down and placed her unexpended hand over the cotton control panel between her legs. I held up the photographic camera for one stopping point pose, framing the net blastoff so her boldness was centered between her open legs, as she scrunched her eyes together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an expression of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so obligate that I instantly tore off everything including my air-sleeve. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with out-of-doors arms. Our back talk melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her legs wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me decent room to reach up and fondle her chest. She let out a moan as my finger's breadth made inter-group communication with her swollen teat, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with Adam.
By then, my penis was begging for release. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was volition to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching erection categoric up against her posterior. She leaned back, keeping our steaming sassing bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one hand firmly attached to her breasts, I took the early and slid it down over her belly, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her kitty with my middle finger. Her rim parted as she moaned deeply against my backtalk. The wetness inside her confirmed the decisive shape of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my fingerbreadth 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 stimulate even more. For once in my life history, I was actually in control, using my fingers to cultivate Mom's pussy into a foaming soapsuds.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her answer came with a series of fits and stutters as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nothing but a long, steady groan. Her face grimaced as her rima oris flung open, moaning and wailing through violent tremors vibrating against my putz. Her pant breaths gradually became more convention as the spirit of her warmly juices permeated the way with the musky odor of her sex.
Swept by the current of veto luxuria, we hastily made our way toward the living room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hired man as I followed her over to the sofa. 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 paw against my cock.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under smashed, restrictive bondage.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my globe, aiding the flow of washy liquidity as her hand continued its journey along my shaft. Grabbing the sash, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my member palpate the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling her warm intimation around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquidness, mopping it like a parasite. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her clapper along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spit.
I moaned as she gently took clutches of my hammer, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her glossa to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her face as she quietly jerked me off. Her heart widened as the shaft extended under her skillful manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more attach to her that it was to me.
I had learned my object lesson from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could get put clothes pins on my pap and that would have been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the lounge, swinging her peg up to rest them against my groin. Bending her knees, she nestled both feet around my dick, placing the shaft between her delicate colloidal solution, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arch softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me first foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the tactual sensation of her ft covered in nylon sweeping up and down my cock or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't know how I was able to keep on myself from nutting all over her groundwork aright then and there.
"That's a in effect boy. Let ma 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 in use trying not to cum. I wanted to prevail out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
victimisation her strong leg muscularity with persistence, she continued pumping her feet up and down my stopcock until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my berm, straddled my head and lowered her crotch smack down against my human face.
She must have intended to muffle my groans as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my stopcock, then swallowed most of it straight down her pharynx. With one hand around it, her head started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the lounge as she noisily sucked me with her eager mouth. Meanwhile, my face was smothered between her wooden leg, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my font as I felt her saliva drip down, leaving warm puddle around my orb, all the while maintaining a steady rhythm as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon boulder clay she finally came up for air.
After a serial of hard, frantic breaths, she sat up and stepped back down to the story, giving me way to tolerate up beside her and turn away her over the lounge, with her stifle together and her ass served up for the taking.
wasting away no time, I knelt down and surround my face between her stage. I knew it was wild. Still, I reached up and started to pull down her pantyhose and G-string.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked boldness, before palming them with both bridge player, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in point first, lodging my tongue deep inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscular tissue started to declaration. She squealed from the instant of sudden intromission, mashing her cheeks firmly against my aspect. I kneaded the svelte pulp as my tongue slowly began wriggling mysterious inside the narrow fold. The briny flavor deeply aroused me, worming my lingua in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock as her anus started to glint from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it fair. From the strait of her moan, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might throw been. I was starting to drop off all sense of reason, with no regard for how far I was starting to push my luck, instead pushing my tongue farther into the depth of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her snatch alluvion until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her asshole where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the edge of couch, with her legs folded and her feet lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a need to direct full advantage of my mother's hunger for sexual perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her second joint, with my hips sawing back and forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both slope of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knees, staring down at the wanton pleasance burning at the stake in her eyes. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my prick right between her thighs. Not once did she utter a unity complaint as I stood there thrusting between her branch, blanketed with pantyhose on both slope.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's compliance was actually demonstrating her force to release all of my pent up frustration. In that import, 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 writhe compulsion, as I grew up under the patch of nylon cast by the beauty of her shimmering stage.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my gumshoe between her slick thighs furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my individual.
Eventually, the rising pressure construction inside my balls rose to a horizontal surface much too powerful to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my warning, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the storey. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took detention of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using quite a little of expectoration as she generously slobbered the well chief. She then closed her fingerbreadth around my ray, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with perseverance as she gazed up into my eyes, giving bring in instructions as she held my phallus directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to attend down and see nothing except your hot creamy cargo all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. number on, baby. Don't keep back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, realise ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These peg,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, baby,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. shuffling Mommy's pantyhose squeamish and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the sound of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those words echo through my head with such sincerity that my balls imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epos cum shower, sheeting down wave after wave, sparing no office of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without lull, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious flack followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the wad of cum oozing down not just her face, but also dripping from her wet sticky nipple, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening second joint, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her finger through the oily goo, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty residue, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a mo to get my heading, leaning against the arm of the couch as I patiently waited for the room to break off spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty celluloid off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her brim."There's nothing 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 practiced,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should cook for you."
Mom quirked her header."You want to pretend dinner ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you sure you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure I can manage. I've seen you make it a 100 times. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll textual matter Cynthia and tell her to come up by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me live. But first, I should probably pass over in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably stride out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"phone practiced,"Mom said."In the meanwhile, please conceive about cancelling that photo shoot with Artemis. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will happen,"I said."You can trust me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I trust you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the fashion model of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"wellspring, maybe not, but that isn't the spot,"she said."We just found this plaza. And I know you like it here as much as I do. Why would you want to risk losing it so soon ?"
"Fine, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to figure out dinner on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to produce something resembling sheepherder's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the tabular array. She sat down, poured two glasses of vino, then reached down to bravely take her first gear bit.
The look on her face as she slowly began to manducate immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"well, it's the thought 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 hand,"she said."That place with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really short dresses so you can read me off."
"Perfect,"I said, smiling."Just don't block 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, O.K.,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I tell the great unwashed if someone asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is assure 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 tongue inside my lip, filling it with the sweet taste of wine, before slowly pulling her brim away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to think of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to tire out. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal strumpet, your very own flesh and blood illusion. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to salve all your cum just for me."

The End
Copyright @ 2013
earthangelxxx @ gmail.com