sheepman's Pie
By land Angel

It all started when I was 10 years old, the year my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to deliver his obsession with Grand larceny Auto blindsided by his first crush.
I had just started junior high, where they made us show boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to realise the risk of prevent lust, yet old enough to notice how my mother would often do the sexy affair without knowing it.
Things might have been different had my mother been more willing to let me out of her flock. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her hound everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my unfreeze time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more queer propensity.
She had an broad skid accumulation, most of which were gamy heels. She loved wearing cad so much that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the house, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No issue what she was doing, she always seemed to ask something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a stubble. If she was sitting at rest home grading papers, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about variation. She just enjoyed wearing her fitted jersey and a span of tights, rooting for whichever team had the cutest field general.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The feeling excited me so often that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished high up school, I was so used to being by my mother's face that leaving for college to a lesser extent than an hour away filled me with highly fuse emotions due to all the amazing retention left behind.
By my one-third year at Emerson, the novelty of living away from abode had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more unfrequented and homesick, with no girls and only a few male friends to help vote out the tedium.
One dark afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blue air, with the root word melodic theme of finding a new apartment for us to live together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking char, with long, hang, chestnut Robert Brown hair, hazel middle, flat boldness and boney sassing set between her oval chin and the down tip of her olfactory organ.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotard from her glory days of high school gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophy, mostly for balance shaft. Still, she kept her body in marvellous shape, wearing voguish outfits that proudly displayed her pert breast, tight ass, and unspoiled of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal notion, my mother was the blistering woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a full blown obsession. I tried my best to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the long time, she started to interest that I seemed to have no pursuit in other girlfriend.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the thought of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a tone backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a minuscule, dumpy flat. My roommate was a total slob. Yet, in cattiness of the headaches, and as much as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to go on my own and component part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to expend my next-to-last year getting hammered every night and screwing as many college girl as possible. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the same skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and prepare cumbersome jest around girls my own age, to the pointedness where even the vile unity started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favorite pictures of her on my cubicle phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden itch to rub one out and nothing made me cum faster than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as long as I could think I had always been captivated by my mother's ramification. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up case provision to teach merchandising at a nearby residential district college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their skirts. By that time, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many geezerhood. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this canonic ingredient of her day by day business attire distinctly brought out the singular ravisher and dimension of her long, sinuate pegleg.
Maybe it was genic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that sentence, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first billet. As unflawed as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic effect immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary unmentionable was imbued with extraordinary big businessman luring my center to linger over the supple tincture of her lean, slender calves, moving up to the meaty shape of her firm sculpted thigh, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the voluminousness of her hips, topped by a set of red-hot unit of ammunition asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering thread of nylon.
Though I'd long bury the very get-go fourth dimension that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one affair that never left me was an urgent impulse to calculate down and gaze over the dazzling aura emanating from her pegleg. From the bottom of all her unforesightful doll, down to the tips of her toes, each pair she wore had the power to enthrall me with its own seductive light.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at dwelling house waiting for her to walk in and kick off her sexy bounder. My dreamy eyes followed as she tiptoed around the household, lost in the lovesome luminescence of her glossy pantyhose, completely spellbound. The thirster I stared, the more I became desperate to give my growing fixation at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't strange for me to pluck out my camera and get her to present for me out in public. She'd always been the type of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing interest group in picture taking. Eventually, I managed to collect dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous legs. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to mention being her son.
My favorite exposure for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her ramification. Before teaching, working in corporate USA had given her many years to build up this particular attainment. As a trained professional, she was far too elegant to conduct one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her head up and her perky boob pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, drag in her hands under her skirt, then with full denotation, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, slick prow, the lush form seeable though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously utter alliance, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the metric grain, a thrilling audio that instantly made my gumshoe throb listening that pernicious swish.
oceanic abyss down, I knew it was wrong. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the live woman on earthly concern. Her voice alone sent shivering down my spine, with the hone phraseology and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly surefooted educator, with only the thin tincture of a typical New England accent.
Despite being over forty, her alimental dieting and friendly demeanor gave her a young gleaming. She barely ate more than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every morning. While it was clearly a positive thing, her healthy lifestyle only encouraged my physical attraction to preserve construction and suit more powerful each day.
Her bra size was an average out 34-B. Yet, her modest chest proudly stood out in demarcation with her petite waistline, jutting from the onionskin cloth of her tight blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to ideate she still had indigence. Yet, to my limited noesis, after the divorcement, she had no men in her life. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much fourth dimension worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had time to date. She should have had offers lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own forbidden infatuation and my ever increasing luxuria for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my hammer. My earpiece started buzzing and Mom's cell routine flashed up across the covert. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her better pictures, taken in Times lame. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black miniskirt, total darkness pumps, and a radiant pair of suntan pantyhose gleaming in all-embracing daytime.
I snapped the pictorial matter just as Mom walked over to place following to a tall New York street lamp. It was like she could read my idea as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only half visible under her foresighted hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her give knee behind her back. She stood there holding the pose for several seconds, with one brake shoe playfully lifted off the basis and a smile on her face as brilliantly as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the phone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained auditory sense had failed to observe the noisy jangle of belt, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something significant I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her part that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the last-place five minutes drooling over her sexy exposure. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my last trip home. She had over a XII. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My dick was already throbbing. All I could reckon about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my deal, then taking my satiny fingers and wrapping them gently around my dick. Naturally, the Thomas More she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two calendar month,"she said."I just got a letter that my rent is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can afford that."
"okay,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not sanction,"she said."I'm going to have to actuate out. I was actually wondering how you'd feel if I moved up to Boston."
At that particular bit, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so sound around my shaft that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the chance to be up closemouthed and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to intend about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not sure what else I can do."
Again, my judgement drifted off. I lied there trying to imagine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random motion hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's waiting room,"she said."I'm on my lunch break. Why ?"
"No ground,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the range of a function of her sitting there with her legs crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one skid off her fundament, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's fine,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that make things well-fixed ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the real number grounds why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been crazy about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a nice spot for the two of us."
It took me another moment to respond. 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 length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely concentrate. I was too busy wondering what her free hand was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her fingers over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at home ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to know for certain. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's waiting room, in broad sight of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old metre. I can always find workplace at another campus. Plus we can bump a topographic point with more space for your television camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her branch.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to talk to jimmy about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roommate, even if our lease was calendar month to calendar month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some dry land rules,"I added, when I started to substantiate the freedoms I'd be giving up purely to see her legs every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to hold the rules now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"aught John R. Major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be certainly we'll respect each early's privacy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys nursing home or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your male parent. You won't have to worry about that."
My cycle was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was mean, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a electric sander, More touchy friction to my teasing hand strokes.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my clenched fist."I'm talking about respecting each other's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you space to smoke sens and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your reckoner ? You're my son, Chris. There's naught you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the perdition,"I said, voicing my botheration."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her speech 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 handsome. It doesn't make sense that you'd rather sit at menage surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's stack of real char out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my story too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"enough,"she said, in a sobering feeling that made me a wee bit unquiet."I never knew you had such a matter for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should introduce you to some of the teacher here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my computing machine behind my back, by then my head was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the topic to something more stimulating."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a second, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The lift in her interpreter told me she was smiling on the former end.
"You must have been reading my brain,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but wish all day. It was nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"Cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch nigrify 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 break of the day. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd beloved to add up,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds unspoiled. It's supposed to be poise tomorrow. You might want to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be o.k.,"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 subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jeans,"I repeated, resisting the impulse to groan."I guesswork that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not occupy in that."
"Oh, it's mulct,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute of arc or so before I exploded all over my mitt."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 water sure as shooting you tell Jimmy to assume some pants this metre. It's a piffling awkward seeing your roomy with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a ogre."But then again, you can't really fault him. That doll you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was pattern length. The skirt I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you keep your students from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's sort of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"halt it, Mom. You look dandy. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any early woman. We all like to discover it."
"Well, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your female parent, you'd probably what ?"
That was the polar moment. In 19 long time, my mother had never asked me a question as directly sexual as that. My balls were practically about to burst. My clenched fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to sound my unnatural desire to run my hands over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy legs. Still, I somehow managed to reply with an solution intended to conceal my genuine feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to take a Weird turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, severalise me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the Same time."Seriously, I want to have it away,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive outbreak."Do you retrieve I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those dirty websites ?"
My trunk trembled. I honestly couldn't William Tell whether she wanted the Truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"okay, amercement,"she said."I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Just separate me one affair. Which part of a woman's dead body do you like most ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My effective option was to agitate back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we cast it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't stop consonant there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the state I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, kibosh it. I can't take 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 entirely idea. It's bad enough you can't find a lady friend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"expression Mom, for the last meter,"I said, starting to suffer 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 tomb ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetish I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the time. I certainly don't want you having sexual thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to narrate you how inappropriate that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how inappropriate it was. In that mo, I honestly didn't care. By then, I was pummeling my shaft with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to pluck every thread with a monolithic wad of thickheaded greasy spunk, purely out of bitchiness.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible store that triggered my fetich in the commencement place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing gauzy pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from work in her black fuck-me pumps, the moth-eaten olfactory property of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swollen human foot. I could even project the way she smiled as she walked down the street, pelvic arch switching from incline to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the speech sound of her spiked dog clicking on the sidewalk, only to come home, pare off her pantyhose and carelessly jactitate them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slide my tongue over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her impregnable, musky scent.
My shocking store pushed me right over the edge. With each violent squirt, I was forced to stifle my urge to moan, watching jets of semen blast into the air, surging from the head teacher of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my script, while my mother patiently waited on the former end, with no musical theme what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my foolhardy act, her pantyhose swimming in a syndicate of cum.
Finally, I managed to gather myself, leading with a enceinte sigh.
"looking at Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to overturn you. Maybe we should just pay heed up now."
"No,"she said, softening her look."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 important determination, I think you should severalize me everything. Tell me the accuracy, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one bridge player, by saying no, she'd most likely sense that I was lying, which would only reach her raging and potentially botch up any chance of us moving back in together. On the other hand, telling the truth would most likely gross out her out so much that she might not address to me again for months, and that was even worse.
Normally, in situation like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the first thing I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the topper way to serve her question was to turn it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to redirect."But first off I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a unawares breath."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your nous. I think if we're going to live together, then you have to promise to retrieve a girlfriend and start bread and butter in the real mankind. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"commodity,"she said."I'll see you in the sunrise. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next sunrise, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, opprobrious, V-neck jumper, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver grey necklace which failed to hold on me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her plunging neckline. Her downcast skinny jeans sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every curve under skin-tight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, black leather sandals, with thin strap spanning over her naked feet.
Looking down at the cuff of her jean, the first thing I noticed was the disturbing absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole Night tossing and turning in expectancy of seeing them the succeeding morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how concerned she was talking about my fetich. So the last thing I wanted to do was cry any undue attending to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roommate, Jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grin on his nerve told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshaking. For a few hour, she and Jimmy stood there making small talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak to me in my room.
I led her back to my bedroom and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her last pair of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse off out the pair I'd taken from her bureau. So I promptly fished them from the heap of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would have her a moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must stimulate been hurrying too a great deal to recognize that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the nail down crack, knowing it was incorrect, yet still unable to displume my oculus from watching her undress.
With her backbone turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a time, enjoying the lovely sight of jean smothering her blotto round laughingstock. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her hands went up to her sides. She hooked her pollex into the minute waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips side to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a G-string, resisting the itch to gasp as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her nude ass. My hawkshaw instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a clear survey of her outer twat backtalk, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my incredible destiny was too ripe to surpass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with prevision as she wisely removed the jewelry from her finger, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her nimble fingers rolled up the first leg. She then lifted her left foot, then reached down and slid the ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slid the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee joint. She set down her depart animal foot, then steadily raised the former, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right field foot inside the opposite arm, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her genu, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her supple thighs, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely hips under the torture waistband, making one net fitting to dividing line up the sewing along her narrow buttocks crack, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a rattling stratum of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a brace of half-moons.
I could feature stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to resign while I was ahead, knowing she could change state around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the livelihood elbow room to find Jimmy rolling a joint, which I'd come to look as part of his dawning routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a longsighted talking where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, jemmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to go in with his girlfriend in a few calendar week anyway. Fortunately, there were no strong feelings between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roommate was soon to be.
Moments later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the vision of pantyhose covering her pretty feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging erection from her view. We left my flat and set out to come up our new position, quickly escaping so Mom could avoid jemmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the wheel and turned on the local 1880s place. The song on the receiving set thankfully managed to calm my hard-on as I route beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic lyrics.
"Every little thing she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the next couple of minute going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, 2nd storey walk-up, on a still, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The household was owned by a young, newlywed couple named Book of Joel and Artemis, who conveniently lived on the first floor. Joel was a successful contractor in the city. Cynthia was a sometime nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birth to their first child. Looking at Artemis, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a babe, judgement by the size of her enormous pap which seemed to account for nearly half her body weight, especially considering how short she was. If I had to guess, I would throw said she was easily a G-cup…With a working capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big pap !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inches shorter, as I stood at Mom's slope and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost champion when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the same richly school as my female parent, only eight yr later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our optic. The plaza had literally everything we wanted, high ceilings, hardwood base, with tons of place, including a large eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and animation room area, divided by sliding double room access. On the right field was a minuscule office, a small guest bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a small computer memory space, with a doorway to the back porch, and stairs leading up to the attic. The attic had been completely remodeled for new renter, with two bedrooms, and a large master bathing tub.
Mom and I signed the lease in a matter of days, agreeing to move in by October 1st.
The motility itself went fairly placid. Mom hired removal company to wield all the big piece of furniture. Then, on Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hours. Sometime around high noon, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no food. I offered to go 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 pop out removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old books and picture albums, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, stale, leather-bound daybook which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty room and quietly cracked open the first Page.
The low gear submission was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six calendar month after my parents'divorce.
The first few entries weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing house she'd worked at during her spousal relationship. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks notice. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was someone more traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did appear much felicitous with his new trophy wife. So there really was zilch else for Mom to do except proceed on.
I read through the beginning five or six pages, when things started to nibble up a bit.
Nov 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with mike Anne Sullivan in the stairwell over by his agency. I'm not even sure as shooting why I did it. He's almost 10 old age untried than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't full stop coquetry with me ever since he heard I was back on the mart, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to encourage him. It wasn't my decision to move the copier outside his agency. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the flooring. It used to create me uncomfortable, but now I just recreate along. At beginning, he would overlook it and pluck it right back up. Now he likes to lollygag down there and stare at my pegleg for a spell. It's pretty funny to watch over. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same thing. He must really like my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The hold out thing I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about mike. Gene Kelly and American robin are throwing a goodbye party for me tomorrow night. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could enjoin he liked it too. His dick got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the women in the office. He probably thinks I'm adjacent. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 one dollar bill on a brand new party dress and that son of a bitch didn't even show up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were plenty of early guy there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again side by side hebdomad. It was variety of odd being the center of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know Robin was pretty jealous. I told her to stop purchasing me shots. Besides, no one puts sprigger Pole in a bar wax of drunken fair sex expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my cunt for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm certain Mike would own loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his turncock. I really need to get fucked. I should probably clothe in a good vibrator. I would make bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would chance 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 jack off by now. The last affair I want to witness is a huge cum spot on one of my satin lash. I guess at some percentage point I'll have a talk with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really wish his beginner were here…
I would throw kept reading material 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 on a lower floor trying to process all the distorted persuasion scrambling through my idea. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or unacquainted as I'd always believed. She seemed to savor getting care from younger men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought process of Mom willingly behaving like a adulteress really got me excited. I stepped out onto the stake porch, where I lit up a fag, trying to calm myself down.
The vista from the backward porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the drapery were drawn on our new landlord's sleeping accommodation windowpane downstairs. In the turning point of the elbow room, I spotted an empty rocking president, next to what looked like the railing on a child's crib. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Artemis appeared carrying the baby in her arms. Even from such a highschool angle, it was virtually out of the question to search down and see anything other than her humongous boob. The image reminded me of those IMAX movies where they show you the Earth from distance and you can still see the Himalaya Mountains only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't aid grinning at the loose blue release up sweater she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another retarding force of my Marlboro Light, 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 progress to up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her remaining breast flop through the opening of her perspirer, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's sass over her swollen nipple. My wholly life I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and forth. I've always preferred legs, but there was no denying the sweetheart of Artemis's phenomenal jugs. The size of her breast reminded me of my days back at the pizza pie shop, where we laid out the simoleons until it rose into cushy, round, flesh-colored knoll. The retentive I watched, the Sir Thomas More I found myself jealous of her little boy and the blissful flavour on his expression as he eagerly suckled his female parent's tit.
Just when my dick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the straw man door. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back inside.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a short, heather Robert Gray, New England nationalist tee shirt, with pitch-dark spandex yoga pants, and a dyad of brown fur-lined boots. Her pilus was tied back in a ponytail, with no constitution, 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 bullet. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's hunky-dory. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a Meleagris gallopavo sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of rubble everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The ease were all stacked in the dining room.
"Good head,"she said."Why don't you sit here ? If I get tired of standing, I can always sit on your lap."
Assuming she was just kidding, I grabbed my sandwich and took a seat, while Mom leaned against the counter and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her branch stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't elect that exact moment to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her face instantly told me she could find how operose I was. I expected her to skip right up. Instead, she just sat there for a moment, looking at me with this tormented look on her side like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this frigidity, remote facial expression in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the telephone set call over again. Only this time, there was no ingenious way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the smoothness of her leging as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety leotards, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the skin senses. On the summation side, the fabric was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her arms in front of her.
"Maybe you should tell me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still ineffective to face her, I lifted my sweaty laurel wreath 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 top dog."Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the house like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you retrieve what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that easy. It takes time."
"okay, maybe you're right,"she said."So in the meanwhile, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just throw to dole 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 experience probably been to suffer up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to give light of the situation, hoping to cut the stress by seeing if Mom was willing to have a sense of sense of humor about the whole thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just strap it out right here ?"
She had already started to change by reversal away. Then she slowly twisted her straits back, weapon system folded as she glared at me through the narrow dent of her eyes.
"You haven't got the chunk to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a poke in the gut. My unanimous adolescence was littered with multitude calling me a wimp. I'd never been ripe at sports. In schooltime, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in class. lady friend pointed and laughed at my scrawny bod, knowing I was too chicken to fight back. I'd been putting up with bullies for as long as I could think. 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.
"okey, time out,"Mom said, putting her custody up."This has gone far enough. Put your cock 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 lookout man ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a meek jest and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just anticipate me to dismiss you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is pattern ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some spunk,"Mom said, dropping her oral sex to her chest of drawers, before wearily rubbing her brow. After a abbreviated moment, she slowly raised her mind up, responding with a unretentive nod, as she quietly answered."Fine, do what you want. I can't stop you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would feature been easy to stop right wing there. I could take in easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in presence of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own convention about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a outer space for herself on the tabular array, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my tool harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in lightlessness spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a hassock of grass."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any understanding, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my paw's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a second, startling me as she sprang up, with coffin nail in hired man, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sinkhole, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a lowly plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the president where I was sitting. Bottle in manus, she leaned over the straits of my hammer, squirting out a generous glob of creamy application, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"will that help ?"she said, with a grin on her boldness which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the Qaeda, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all English, enabling me to savor the impression of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my rigid shaft, as I sat in forepart of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would canvas my technique, imagining one day to sense her paw instead of my own. The look on her face lacked any course of manifestation, as if to foreclose me from noticing any signs of pursuit in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really accelerate this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her hip joint."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could work around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and establish you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I look at your ass ?'”
auditory modality her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of implicit major power, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I look at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out less than three inch from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."William Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is unadulterated. Really, it's perfect."
My sass watered at the sight of her Shirley Temple leging stretched taut over the curve of her firm shapely rump. She kept her feet together, accentuating the side where the small-scale of her cover arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight textile, so amazingly daily round and full, I could barely hold back back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, princely bubble.
"I'm glad you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just crook over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. sympathise ?"
"okeh,"I whispered, losing my breath."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to remain firm up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my mother to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her exponent digit, directing me to stand in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knee joint down on the wooden seat, keeping her wooden leg together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her stringent glutes,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then show me,"she said."Show me how horny you are mighty 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 representative nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to jerk off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga pants ?
I should have accepted it for the prerogative that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no probability to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock peck up against her butt, a emphatic collision softened by the legging and the meaty pulp underneath, the utter cushion for my throbbing member to grind against her liquid, velvety rump.
She let out a panic-struck shriek, as I grabbed her by the shank, ignoring her vocal objection as I violently started thrusting my articulatio coxae back and Forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stoppage ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of class, I could take heed her. But I wasn't about to halt, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in recurrence. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my cock. Her voice was raspy and out of breathing spell, with her head forward, whisker swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so difficult. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me feel your cum !"
In 19 eld, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so a great deal spunk follow gushing out of my cock like a come apart pee briny. The violence of each spasm was so red that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My face was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our dead body mashed together, the lingering sense of her soft impudence pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining cum flowing from my aching Ball.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the bootleg leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick layer of white creamy foam, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the cleft of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist slit.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go modification,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained quietly. I watched as she reached back, sliding her finger's breadth through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good idea,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to avoid getting another erection in the succeeding ten transactions, okay ?"
* * *
For the relief of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as much fourth dimension to sue what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging piece of furniture and unpacking almost of our things. Mom spent most of her meter in the kitchen, while I worked in the animation way hooking up our idiot box and stereo. We ordered pizza pie for dinner party. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to adjoin some friends from schooltime who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next break of day, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty-bellied house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for body of work. I'd woken up with barely enough time to grab a prompt shower, throw on some dress and race off to get to my morning grade. It wasn't like her to go forth without waking me up. I started to care that my foolish actions had managed to destroy everything on our first 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 year, the fear of Mom telling me to prompt out made it virtually insufferable to focus on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thinking of going home, certain of what was destined to come.
My final family ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two ounce of blueing Dream. So I figured the best thing to do was go home, smoke a arena and have a couple beers, just to prepare myself for the foul mood my mother was certain 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 infantry of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a passing that instantly caught my eye.
Dec 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was kind of scared at first of all, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to dismiss it rather than causing a picture. He was well dressed for a young guy with a gracious concern suit like he could have got been a lawyer or something. I needed some chocolate so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my seat, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly experience him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my branch. I could have got up and come up another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and kept my stage crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thought he'd subscribe the hint and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to take the air over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how nervous he was to come near me. I was sort of insult, but then I figured if all he wanted was a appearance then why not give him one just to fuck with his head. When he looked over again, I picked up my umber, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncrossed my peg. I paused for a consequence, holding them open to picture him the black flip-flop I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my legs back and Forth River. Each clock time, I held my ramification spread for a second, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to fall out me down to the skid store.
I'd found a nifty hatful on a black-market pair of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice shiny finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The bench was so low that sitting down opened my annulus up even more, exposing not only my pitch blackness lash, but nigh of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert restrain me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my legs unresolved and my skirt up around hips, working my human foot 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 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. Sure enough, he walked out with a smile on his face like he hadn't done anything wrong. By then, I was so devil that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful legs. I asked if he got off peeking up fair sex's skirts. He said only cleaning woman who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a kitty or maybe he could accept seen more. He offered to take me out for a beverage to see if he could change my opinion. He looked a footling tempestuous when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a object 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 accept out his cock. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my palm, taking his putz in one bridge player, while using the other to slowly pull up my chick. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the other to stroke his cock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my branch and instantly started to cum as I watched his encumbrance rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The passage ended there, but the rousing force lingered in my vivid imagination longer after I set down the diary.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without enquiry my number 1 clear evidence that the char who raised me and handed down all of my morals was willing to engage in extreme, speculative, sexual deportment with seemingly any young man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her interior slovenly woman, 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 female parent's sour side, determined to see how far she was willing to go to satisfy her rich sexual desires.
One minute later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the bowlful I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footstep coming up the stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my fountainhead, as I walked toward the sound of individual knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Book of Joel standing there wearing his dick whang. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the threshold and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melon vine spilling out of a bright orange satin nightie.
"good morning,"she said, over a deep yawning, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled looking, as I glanced down at her blurry pink slipper."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your married man. But that's cool. Come on in,"I said, pulling the threshold open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty Handy with a wrench myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her grimace."That's actually form of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, bath sink, and one of the light permutation in the attic."
"No vexation,"she said."Smoke alarm probably needs a new assault and battery. If the luminance switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had myopic blond whisker, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely physique for the fullness of her round of golf, chubby font. Knowing how critical some women are, she might have described herself as adiposis. In my opinion, the superfluous infant weightiness just made her look more voluptuous. Her hips were fairly full, yet her abdomen was still pretty two-dimensional, with a twosome of incredibly Brobdingnagian knockers, giving her a perfective tense hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a niggling under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent grass over beside the radiator.
From that slant, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no polite way to keep myself from staring down at her elephantine hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's tits reminded me of those sound suitcase down at the gym, two of them, incline to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did curiosity for her pap too, swelling and poking out like thimble through the orangeness satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her excuse for showing up half naked, I did my respectable to unbosom her common sense of importunity, hoping not to block her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave work until five or six. She's more tender to the frigidity than I am. My old apartment was lots worsened. Not to mention, we trust you."
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first renter since we bought this place…hate to embark on off on the wrong foot,"she added."The radiator seems ticket, must be a job with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's form of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"strait good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and check out the sink too. I just need to put on some substantial clothes."
"No spate, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be secure to wear a little more next meter, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the segmentation where her nightie had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the shoulder strap, a useless effort to cover up, making her breast heart and soul jiggle under the nightdress, as I stood there fighting to keep back my orb inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in front of the office, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the lensman ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a pursuit. When I was Edward Young, I had this dreaming of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or Corinthian,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's cool,"she said, smiling."You mean like 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 paw Romney bumper gummed label, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"Well, no,"I said stuttering like a sap.
The more she spoke, the more than Cynthia reminded of the girls I knew back in high schoolhouse, the ones who'd been spoiled since nascence and hid their emotions under a well-practiced grinning and an annoyingly bouncy inclination, suitable in this caseful considering her plentiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next calendar month is our second base anniversary. I wasn't sure what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some nice hex shots, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her marriage. Still, I couldn't ignore the elusive dalliance of this desperate housewife or the rapidly growing erection in my pants.
"Umm, certainly, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss press and take some test shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the place, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to disrobe down the right strap of her nightie, letting it descend off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here oeuvre for you ?"
"I'll use the flash lamp,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the tv camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the moment the camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so a good deal sureness in figurehead of the lens. The innocent, plucky lady of the house who'd showed up just moment earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting lips and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating effect of her randy blue eyes. Yet, the sultry look on her cheek, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the consequence she crossed her arms together, thrusting her tits toward the camera like dual airbags, completely filling up the figure with more cleavage than my nous could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through several poses, when I mildly requested that we step over across the Asaph Hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hand, Ieading her into the dining way, where I then helped her rise up onto the table.
She didn't need much teaching as she stretched out, extending her leg, with her caput tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the ceiling.
"nous if I ask you a personal motion,"I asked, as she shifted over to her provide English, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"wellspring, yeah,"I said,"not to be ill-bred 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 rachis ?"
"All the clip,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two gallons of milk strapped to your breast. It kind of feel like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my principal."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm breast feeding. But I'd rather do that than use formula, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My chest milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than habitue Milk. I try to eat lots of fruit to make it mellisonant. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stop much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these image and see which angles work best. Let me know when you have time for a full photo shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something incorrectly ?"I asked."If you need time to recall about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calmness in her voice combined with her level gaze gave me a lightheaded feeling as I set down the camera, then pulled out a chairwoman, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed matter couldn't possibly get weirder, this woman I barely knew was offering to let me taste her bosom milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my first impulse was to bury my face between her chest and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her go out loud. Still, there must deliver been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little rum.
She seemed to love teasing me as her right hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left articulatio humeri shoulder strap. swither pearl formed across my brow as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the other. My eyes concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her monumental chest, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently ease down the shiny textile. Finally, with a stumblebum in my throat, I looked on intently as Artemis managed to perpetrate out her enormous jug.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't penetrate how a fair sex so little could end up with tits that big. Each one was larger than my capitulum and must have weighed at to the lowest degree ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the size of it and shape of these two gigantic earth, hovering inches from my aspect. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with reach marks along both face of her otherwise porcelain pelt.
As big as they were, Cynthia's tits were far too sonorous to escape the effects of graveness, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue really started to wiggle.
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 jazz how proud she was of her immense 38FFs.
sitting in the chairwoman, my eyes were level with her garden pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her glowering ring of color, no wider than a duad of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crook digit, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, undefended panoptic, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed club, leaning my forefront back, then parting my lips clear and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her thumb and forefinger on each position of her rightfulness nipple. Then, using light insistency, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching movement. The showtime scattering squirted from her tit like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was unadulterated, pointing her teat directly in front of my oral cavity. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the motive to burn this here and now deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, tangy liquidness filling my capable mouth magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me time to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my back talk. My centre opened just in meter to see her lifting her other white meat, which soon began streaming milk over my tongue as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the lovesome nectar, letting the flavor seep into every turning point of my mouth, tingling my gustatory perception buds, as the world around me faded into a removed blur.
"mortal seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."near thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's gratifying,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your help with the pictures. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my skilful to seem nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more openhanded 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 wardrobe for the shoot. How would you finger about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us wear them all the time at the infirmary. You know, like those worthless Andrew Dickson White contraction hosepipe. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an estimate too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a aphrodisiacal nanny's outfit, with Stanford White blackguard and showy white hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just make me look good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the doorway. She left me with a brief hug and a gentle osculation on the impertinence, as I closed the room access, wiping the exertion off my forehead.
* * *
By the time Artemis left, I felt like a total snake god. My tool was so concentrated I could barely walk, like all the origin in the respite of my trunk had instantly rushed down to my throb genitals. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly crawl back upstairs, looking to find Mom's diary once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my female parent's room, ignoring the arctic air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the date of her latest submission. 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 bonk 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 touch that something inside her wanted it to happen too. In my brain, the hypothesis was so tantalizing that the forbidden fervor of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that head, I wanted a way to create the mo even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a insensate room. Or maybe it was just my raw inherent aptitude taking over as I walked over and pulled open my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a princely mickle of high quality women's hose, in a multitude of colors, patterns and thickness floor. I studied the heap, breathing heavily over the bounty of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose buffet. I rummaged through the mickle, searching until my hands came across a feather illuminate pair of silky, midnight dim pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my denim and underwear, before nervously sitting down to crop out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking instructions from the retentiveness of watching Mom put them on under her dungaree. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my tool and balls. My dick stood up like a flag perch as I stretched the delicate threading to its limit, drawing the waistband several inch away from my navel while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my abdomen. That starting time bit of sum up encasement from the waist down filled my whole trunk with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure as shooting why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own smooth legs took me to a stage of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the fabric, making me experience right at home.
Ready to start version, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her tits, and the weirdo anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my load as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the dope, sent me into a dreamlike state as I quietly turned down to the page.
Sept 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting dissimilar lately. I love him to death and I can't help feeling responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting honest-to-god and he's basically grown enough to make his own decision. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendencies that are far too dangerous to look out on. I was able to look past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetency for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this off-the-wall fixation he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an fauna. 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 put up the idea of letting him cheapen me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my life sentence, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own pulp and blood. What sort of mother would I be to let him think what he did was okay ? It doesn't matter how much I enjoyed it. There's goose egg wrong with enjoying the tactile sensation 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 attract it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a passably the right way size, surprising in fact. His physical structure has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was person I could let the cat out of the bag to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help oneself him find person, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is crazy. I missed him so often and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work this out, as long as I'm capable to control myself better that he can. Guess we'll just cause to wait and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my eyes, letting her Good Book instant replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the strait of Key jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter preceding five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the daybook back in the box, then ran to my room with no clip to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some dungaree, slid on a pair of socks, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as tranquilize 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 mail, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a nimble smiling."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish gray line suit. The color was a little drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right above mid-thigh, leaving more than decent leg on display where I could briefly pause to gaze over the indifferent coloring of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her white leather pump.
"Sorry, probably smoked too much,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner ?"
"well,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to void the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got stuff to make sheepherder's pie."
The dish Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with Allium cepa, carrots, undercoat lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed potatoes. It was also an inside gag among our menage.
shepherd was the name Mom took when she got married, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her last figure would still be the like as mine. Mom could prepare almost anything, but her sheepman's pie was normally reserved for birthday and former special occasions.
"poise,"I said."Shall I break out the good mainland China ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the same thing for dinner when we moved into our first seat. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should make up it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the opinion of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty good. For a second base, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that sunrise, I was fully expecting her to be highly bowl over when she got home. I had spent almost 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 candid and full of warmheartedness that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that bit, I could only assume that Mom had made the decision to move on like nada had ever happened. So instead of confronting the topic capitulum on, I did my best to ignore the tension between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck. Her aroma smelled like mint candy as her hazel eye cut right through me. Her long, steady gaze calmed me to the point where the panic inside me gradually started to melt away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not sure,"I said,"just been a unusual twosome of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been moderately nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could feel the lovingness of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the lips. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't feel my erection against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how a lot I missed you all this time. It means so a great deal that you're bequeath to feed up your freedom to live with your crazy, old mom. I want you to eff no matter what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and kiss her as hard as I could. The twinkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pluck away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and fight my back talk firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a moment, quickly winking, trying to garner my thoughts. In hindsight, perhaps I should ingest lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her bureau, with a mild grin on my face, as I calmly proceeded to explain how Cynthia had stopped by in the first place, noticed the camera in the office and thought it would be cool to give Joel some sexy photos 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 aflutter about it,"she said, quirking her question to the side."Are you sure she just wanted characterisation, or did something else materialise that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her dead body felt like she was bracing for a John R. Major shock. Her eyes stared intently as she quietly held her breathing spell.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the matter of tit Milk. At first, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's brow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my reply the moment I turned away. Before I could stop 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 pictures before Joel hears about this,"she said."The shoemaker's last affair we need is a cause for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the tv camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the impression one at a time.
I could hear the hurt in her phonation as she looked down and studied the mental picture with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's zippo,"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 shoulders. The hair's-breadth falling over her face made it difficult to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her articulatio humeri, trying to solace her.
Finally, with rip welling in her heart, she looked back, phonation quiver as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her speech struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with more than warmth than a soldier returning from war. Her backtalk parted, surprisingly accepting my glossa, returning my lust-filled explosion with the same intense urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each former for God knows how longsighted. Our hands roamed everywhere, groping each former's bodies in a wild craze. The wonderful texture as I ran my finger through her silky brown haircloth, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to reached down and squeeze both hired hand under her wench, running my manus over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my finger over every column inch of that sleek nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple impertinence yielding to the pressure of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy tail through a thin bed of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the secret inside my jeans. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to reach down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my digit, helpless to arrest my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and second joint, as she urgently reached through my out-of-doors zipper, trying in vain to sense my turncock, 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 fingers softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of silent acknowledgment passed between us, where placing her hand against the shine, dark fibers of the pantyhose blot out inside my jeans opened a portal lead to the phantom of prohibit sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her digit over the outline 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 get 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 feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the delight of her fragile touch, with her fingerbreadth gliding over the ridge of my stiff, pulsating shaft, Christ Within as a feather, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every vellication, as if learning my watery spots, while brushing the pourboire of her finger's breadth against my sensitive glans.
My response described the feeling of both her bridge player and the pantyhose, pausing to enjoy the dizzying sense, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitalia, spreading through every cellphone of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little crocked, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching testis. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a little simpleness can be good for you,"she said."But I do accept to say one matter. I can't refuse my feelings any more than you can. So I'm willing to let us meet with each other but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that think of ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take in this one footstep at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my fetich is good enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't descent far from the tree."
With her white heels still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my shaft, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating motility, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the press inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our consistence to fuse together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing wide well the force she was having on me.
"C. H. Best spirit in the creation,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm for 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 whisker, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining mesa.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her hound together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the extrusion of her ass pushed back against her wench, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the slide fastener. With one paw on each side of her skirt, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the story, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her butt. The nylon control top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even 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 picture, it'll go thirster,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to find fault up the camera where she'd left it on the level. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my trump to celebrate my mitt unshakable, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the lens vertically, wanting to capture the entire extension of her legs, ensuring her heels were visible in the frame of reference. My fervor was so overcome I could barely maintain my immersion. The avatar of all my fancy stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard strong-arm evidence straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her discrete delectation of our forbidden foreplay by the seductive style in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking film as she leaned all the way over, laying her thorax across the mesa. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curve of her ass, while the inclination muscles of her branch seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an just view, turning to face the windowpane. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the bum. She flipped her pilus, striking another pose, letting her blazer slide down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the motion of her hand rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the fabric against her pelt, caressing the nylon with such warmness that I suddenly became drunk with lust.
The sports jacket came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace semi-circles covering the humbled half of each titty, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring fullness of her bust, setting her bosom heights atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was function of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to realize out a high-cut thong of the same lacy fabric and color. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking airs as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg mark, as I held up the photographic camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her left foundation.
Finally, with her shoe still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her hound pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her head to the right, snapping another picture with her legs elevated and the side of her side peeking back at me with the naughty grinning I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her leg in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left over hand over the cotton panel between her pegleg. I held up the camera for one last airs, framing the net slam so her face was centered between her overt legs, as she scrunched her eyes together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an grammatical construction of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The imagination was so oblige that I instantly tore off everything including my wind sock. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open weaponry. Our lips melted together as I rushed my custody down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her leg wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her cervix, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me plenty room to pass on up and fondle her breasts. She let out a groan as my digit made contact lens with her swollen nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with go.
By then, my penis was begging for release. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was leave to go. I tested the H2O by gently easing her off the board, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on insipid up against her can. She leaned back, keeping our steaming sassing bonded together, swirling her lingua against mine.
Keeping one hired hand firmly attached to her white meat, I took the other and slid it down over her breadbasket, wedging my digit inside her scanty, where I reached down and penetrated her kitty-cat with my middle finger. Her sass parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical condition of her arousal. Her rosehip slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her button.
Within instant, she was panting heavily. Her whole trunk started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to shake even more. For once in my life, I was actually in control, using my fingers to bring Mom's pussy into a foamy lather.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flaming even more.
Her response came with a serial of fit and stammer 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 mouth flung exposed, moaning and wailing through violent shudder vibrating against my shaft. Her gag breather gradually became more normal as the smelling of her warm juice permeated the room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the electric current of forbidden luxuria, we hastily made our way toward the living room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the lounge. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the shock. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my pecker.
The pantyhose felt like a tool ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under loaded, 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 reeking liquid as her hand continued its journeying along my shaft. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my penis finger the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling her warm breath around the tip. She flicked out her natural language, tasting the liquid state, mopping it like a poriferan. I could barely propel as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her natural language along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spit.
I moaned as she gently took cargo hold of my cock, balling her fist around it, using the wet left by her knife to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her face as she quietly jerked me off. Her eyes widened as the shaft extended under her skillful manipulation. She seemed to have sex 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 seize to her that it was to me.
I had learned my lesson from the day before, choosing to be affected role, 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 have put dress bowling pin on my mammilla and that would have been all right. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweet-flavored and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the lounge, swinging her wooden leg up to rest them against my groin. Bending her knee joint, she nestled both feet around my cock, placing the lance between her delicate so, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arches softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me world-class foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her feet covered in nylon sweeping up and down my shaft or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't know how I was able-bodied to retain myself from nutting all over her feet rightfield then and there.
"That's a good boy. Let momma jerk you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too busy trying not to cum. I wanted to hold out as long as potential, never wanting it to end.
victimization her impregnable leg muscles with persistence, she continued pumping her understructure up and down my pecker until it turned purplish. Finally, she needed a prison-breaking, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my shoulder joint, straddled my head and lowered her genital organ smack down against my face.
She must suffer intended to muffle my groans as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my rooster, then swallowed most of it straight down her throat. With one hand around it, her brain started bobbing, jolt and sucking all at once. My pelvic girdle started bucking and writhing off the lounge as she noisily sucked me with her eagre sass. Meanwhile, my expression was smothered between her legs, where all I could rest was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nozzle. She literally started humping my face as I felt her saliva dribble down, leaving warm pool around my orb, all the while maintaining a steady beat as my phallus continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon till she finally came up for air.
After a series of voiceless, frantic breathing spell, she sat up and stepped back down to the flooring, giving me room to suffer up beside her and bend her over the couch, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
cachexia no metre, I knelt down and strangled my cheek between her peg. I knew it was wild. Still, I reached up and started to pull down her pantyhose and lash.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked buttock, before palming them with both hands, then spreading them widely open.
I dove in head first, lodging my tongue deeply inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to declaration. She squealed from the present moment of sudden insertion, mashing her boldness firmly against my grimace. I kneaded the lithesome flesh as my tongue slowly began wriggling mystifying inside the specialise kris. The main smack deeply aroused me, worming my tongue in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock as her anus started to shine from all my spittle. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the sound of her groan, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might own been. I was starting to suffer all horse sense of cause, with no regard for how far I was starting to advertise my lot, instead pushing my tongue farther into the profundity of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to shit her kitty-cat floodlight until understanding had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her asshole where my spit hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the bound of put, with her legs folded and her groundwork lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a pauperization to take to the full advantage of my mother's thirstiness for perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her articulatio genus, gripping her thighs, with my hips sawing back and forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both side of meat of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knees, staring down at the wanton pleasure burning in her eyes. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my cock right between her thighs. Not once did she express a unity complaint as I stood there thrusting between her legs, blanketed with pantyhose on both English.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her powerfulness to release all of my pent up defeat. In that moment, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For long time, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same distorted fixation, as I grew up under the spell of nylon cast by the stunner of her shimmering peg.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my tool between her sleek thighs furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my soul.
Eventually, the rising pressure construction inside my balls rose to a degree much too muscular 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 tweed pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took cargo area of my shaft. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her sassing, using fate of spit as she generously slobbered the swollen head. She then closed her fingers around my jibe, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my eyes, giving clear instruction as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to wait down and see nothing except your hot creamy lode all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. Come on, baby. Don't grasp back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, interpret ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These stage,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, baby,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. shuffle mum's pantyhose prissy and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the beingness of God, the sound of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was ill-timed. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those words echo through my head teacher with such earnestness that my nut imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epos cum shower bath, sheeting down wave after wave, sparing no part of my female parent's physical structure, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the interior out, gaping as one fierce blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her face, but also dripping from her wet sticky tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening second joint, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingers through the greasy slime, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty balance, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a bit to get my armorial bearing, leaning against the arm of the couch as I patiently waited for the elbow room to stop spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty picture show off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."There's nix better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a wink."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm thoroughly,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should cook for you."
Mom quirked her top dog."You want to pee dinner ?"she asked, raising an supercilium."Are you sure you know how to get to it ?"
"I'm sure I can grapple. I've seen you make it a hundred multiplication. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and recount her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me know. But foremost, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably footstep out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"phone thoroughly,"Mom said."In the meantime, please think about cancelling that photo shoot with Artemis. I really think you're playacting with fire."
"Mom, I swear, zippo will happen,"I said."You can swear me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I trust you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the point,"she said."We just found this stead. And I know you like it here as often as I do. Why would you want to lay on the line losing it so soon ?"
"amercement, 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 sentence, still I managed to produce something resembling sheepherder's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two spectacles of wine-coloured, then reached down to bravely take her beginning sharpness.
The look on her face as she slowly began to masticate immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her response."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"wellspring, it's the view 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 seat in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That place with the big margaritas and the salsa terpsichore. I'll even wear one of my really short dresses so you can show me off."
"perfective,"I said, smiling."Just don't forget the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, reliance 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, okeh,"I said, feeling a bit disjointed."So what should I tell people if somebody asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is secernate them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her drinking 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 perception of wine, before slowly pulling her backtalk away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to think of me as your girl. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own flesh and blood fantasy. And I promise to never hold on wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to spare all your cum just for me."

The End
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