shepherd's Pie
By terra firma saint

It all started when I was 10 year old, the year my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only tiddler to have his obsession with G theft automobile blindsided by his first crush.
I had just started next-to-last high, where they made us translate boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too offspring to translate the dangers of interdict lecherousness, yet old enough to notice how my mother would often do the sexy things without knowing it.
Things might get been different had my mother been more willing to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her blackguard everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to expend all my free time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more peculiar tendencies.
She had an extended shoe collection, most of which were eminent heel. She loved wearing hound 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 family, by practicing in inconspicuous stilettos.
No affair what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't crapulence anything without a straw. If she was sitting at 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 sports. She just enjoyed wearing her fitted jersey and a couple of tights, rooting for whichever team had the cutest quarterback.
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 much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished high shoal, I was so victimized to being by my female parent's side that leaving for college lupus erythematosus than an time of day away filled me with highly integrate emotions due to all the amazing storage left behind.
By my third twelvemonth at Emerson, the trinket of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more solitary and homesick, with no female child and only a few male friends to help vote down the boredom.
One dreary good afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blueing, with the radical idea of finding a new flat for us to last together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with long, flowing, chestnut brown hair, hazel eyes, flat cheeks and skinny lips set between her ellipse Chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red cat suit from her glory years of high school school gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple prize, mostly for balance irradiation. Still, she kept her consistency in tremendous flesh, wearing trendy outfits that proudly displayed her pert breasts, pixilated ass, and best of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my female parent was the hottest woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so very much that it soon developed into a full blown obsession. I tried my upright to go on her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the eld, she started to occupy that I seemed to have no interest in other young woman.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the thought of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a pace backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, dumpy apartment. My roommate was a total slob. Yet, in spite of the headaches, and as much as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and section of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to spend my junior year getting hammered every Night and screwing as many co-ed as possible. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in realism, I was still the Saami cheeseparing kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and make clumsy jokes around missy my own age, to the point where even the ugly ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my preferent pictures of her on my cell speech sound. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nix made me cum faster than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as prospicient as I could remember I had always been captivated by my mother's legs. When Dad left, because of all the travelling, she gave up effect planning to instruct marketing at a nearby biotic community 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 old age. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this introductory element of her day by day business attire distinctly brought out the singular beaut and proportion of her prospicient, sinuous legs.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just pubescence, but around that time, I became so fixated on my female parent's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first blank space. As flawless 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 office luring my eyes to linger over the supple tone of her run, slender sura, moving up to the meaty figure of her business firm sculpted thighs, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the voluminosity of her coxa, topped by a set of delectable round of drinks asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering threads of nylon.
Though I'd long block the very initiative time that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an urgent impulse to front down and gaze over the dazzling aureole emanating from her legs. From the bottom of all her shortstop bird, down to the peak of her toes, each pair she wore had the power to enchant me with its own seductive scintillation.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at place waiting for her to take the air in and kick off her sexy hound. My dreamy eyes followed as she tiptoed around the business firm, lost in the warm gleaming of her sheeny pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the more I became desperate to run my growing obsession at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't unusual for me to pull out my camera and get her to pose for me out in public. She'd always been the type of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing interest in picture taking. Eventually, I managed to hoard dozen of word picture, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous legs. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her scene after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to advert being her son.
My front-runner movie for jerking off were the I that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before pedagogy, working in corporate U.S.A. had given her many years to develop this particular skill. As a aim pro, she was far too elegant to take one leg and carelessly flop it over the former.
Instead, with her head up and her perky knocker pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, sweep her helping hand under her skirt, then with wax extension, click out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky stem, the alcoholic contour visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower second joint, all this in one rousingly fluent motility, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously perfective tense alinement, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the metric grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my dick throb hearing that subtle swish.
Deep down, I knew it was incorrect. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so strange to see my female parent as the hottest woman on terra firma. Her vocalisation alone sent chills down my spine, with the sodding diction and dignified simplicity of a well-trained, highly confident educator, with only the slightest trace of a distinctive New England emphasis.
Despite being over forty, her nutritious diet and friendly demeanour gave her a youthful freshness. She barely ate more than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two Swedish mile every dawn. While it was clearly a positive thing, her healthy lifestyle only encouraged my physical draw to continue building and become more mighty each day.
Her bra size was an average 34-B. Yet, her small breast proudly stood out in contrast with her midget waistline, jutting from the flimsy material of her sloshed blouses and decollete tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to opine she still had needs. Yet, to my limited cognition, after the divorce, she had no men in her life. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so a great deal time worrying if I was getting laid, she might make had time to date. She should own had offers lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own forbidden crush and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belted ammunition, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My earpiece started buzzing and Mom's cell identification number flashed up across the cover. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her better impression, taken in Times Square. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black miniskirt, inkiness pumps, and a radiant twain of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daytime.
I snapped the picture just as Mom walked over to pose succeeding to a tall New York streetlight. 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 seeable under her recollective hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty Pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the tv camera, flexing her left knee behind her back. She stood there holding the mannerism for several endorsement, with one shoe playfully lifted off the ground and a smile on her brass as bright as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the phone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained auditory sense had failed to detect the noisy jingle of belt, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a arcminute ?"she said quickly."There's something authoritative I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her voice that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the finale five minutes drooling over her aphrodisiacal photos. I'd even pulled out a twosome of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my last misstep home. She had over a 12. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't observance if I only took one. My putz was already throbbing. All I could think about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hired hand, then taking my silken fingers and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the More she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two months,"she said."I just got a letter that my rent is increasing by almost 200 one dollar bill. 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 okay,"she said."I'm going to have to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd feeling if I moved up to Boston."
At that specific moment, I probably should take been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so good around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the chance to be up unaired and personal with her get pegleg again.
"I understand if you need to imagine about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it lots thought myself. I'm just not sure enough what else I can do."
Again, my psyche drifted off. I lied there trying to suppose what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random question hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's lounge,"she said."I'm on my tiffin disruption. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the trope of her sitting there with her legs crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one shoe off her foot, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's amercement,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that make things easier ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the real reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been crazy about the neighbourhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a nice berth for the two of us."
It took me another moment to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the smooth velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the distance of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely focus. I was too busy wondering what her unloose paw was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the telephone. Was she gently rubbing her fingers over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many multiplication at home ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her horseshoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to have sex for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's lounge, in full moon perspective of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always find work at another campus. Plus we can come up a place with to a greater extent distance for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a persuasion, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to progress to inside the oven. I could already see her bird riding up, framing her cordiform ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose gusset plate peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to retain 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 month to calendar month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some ground rules,"I added, when I started to realize the freedoms I'd be giving up purely to see her legs every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to bring in the rules now, huh ? O.K.. Like what ?"
"zero major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll respectfulness each other's concealment. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys menage or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to worry about that."
My cycle was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was pixilated, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more delicate friction to my teasing hand stroking.
"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 weed and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your computing device ? You're my son, Chris. There's zilch you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the sin,"I said, voicing my aggravator."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 words carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a little 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 deal of substantial women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering pure tone that made me a wee bit anxious."I never knew you had such a thing for older cleaning lady,"she continued."Maybe I should infix you to some of the instructor here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my computer behind my backbone, by then my head was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the subject to something Sir Thomas More exhilarating."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 vocalisation told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must have been reading my thinker,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had zilch but compliment all day. It was nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"Cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch dim strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon River."I can't time lag to see how they look."
"Well, you're in lot,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at station in the good morning. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to make out,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds effective. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might require to fall apart something warm."
"Oh, I'll be fine,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my dungaree. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a span,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the content.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your denim,"I repeated, resisting the urge to groan."I guess that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute of arc or so before I exploded all over my script."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 fix sure enough you tell Jimmy to assume some drawers this time. It's a little awkward seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a demon."But then again, you can't really pick him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal length. The skirt I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"Well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you keep your scholar from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's variety of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"Stop it, Mom. You look great. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other woman. We all like to listen it."
"wellspring, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my female parent, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your female parent, you'd probably what ?"
That was the polar moment. In 19 years, my female parent had never asked me a question as directly intimate as that. My egg were practically about to burst. My clenched fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to vocalize my unnatural desire to run my hands over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy pegleg. Still, I somehow managed to answer with an result intended to hide my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to look at a uncanny turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, tell me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly titillating at the same metre."Seriously, I want to jazz,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive volcanic eruption."Do you consider I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those dirty internet site ?"
My torso trembled. I honestly couldn't tell whether she wanted the verity, 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."
"OK, amercement,"she said."I wasn't trying to name you uncomfortable. Just tell me one thing. Which part of a cleaning lady's body do you like most ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My well option was to drive back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we drop it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't hitch 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, break it. I can't look at this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sensation, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this hale idea. It's bad enough you can't find a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you palpate even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the last fourth dimension,"I said, starting to fall back 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 pes in the grave ? 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 prison term. I certainly don't want you having sexual thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to enjoin you how inappropriate that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how incompatible it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't forethought. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to soak every thread with a massive wad of buddy-buddy oleaginous tinder, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible memories that triggered my fetish in the first plaza.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the family wearing sheer pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from workplace in her blackened fuck-me pumps, the stale odor of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her tumesce base. I could even picture the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hip joint switching from side to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the speech sound of her fortify heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to number home, strip off her pantyhose and carelessly jactitate them in the trammel, leaving them for me to scavenge, as I secretly pulled them out, slip my glossa over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My lurid memories pushed me right over the bound. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my urge to groan, watching reverse lightning of ejaculate blast into the air, surging from the read/write head of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my mitt, while my mother patiently waited on the former end, with no idea what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my heady act, her pantyhose swimming in a consortium of cum.
Finally, I managed to collect myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be true. I wasn't trying to overturn you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being reliable. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important decisiveness, I think you should tell me everything. Tell me the truth, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one script, by saying no, she'd most likely good sense that I was lying, which would only piddle her angry and potentially spoil any prospect of us moving back in together. On the former hand, telling the truth would most likely freak her out so a great deal that she might not speak to me again for calendar month, and that was even risky.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly sure as shooting what to do, the first thing I usually did was try to suppose what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the skilful way to answer her query was to turn it around and ask her a dubiousness of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before trickily attempting to redirect."But outset I'd like to see what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short breather."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess up with your head. I think if we're going to live together, then you have to prognosticate to notice a girl and initiate living in the substantial universe. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"Good,"she said."I'll see you in the morning. And don't forget to bring in back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next morning time, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, Joseph Black, V-neck perspirer, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver necklace which failed to hold on me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her plunge neckline. Her blue devil weedy jean 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 slenderize shoulder strap spanning over her bare feet.
Looking down at the cuff of her jeans, the offset thing I noticed was the troubling absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole Night tossing and turning in anticipation of seeing them the succeeding morning.
My first inherent aptitude was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how relate she was talking about my juju. So the in conclusion thing I wanted to do was shout any undue attention to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a quick hug, when my roomy, jemmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grinning on his case told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshaking. For a few minutes, she and Jimmy stood there making small lecture, 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 duad of pantyhose with a sheer blackguard and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the pair I'd taken from her actor's assistant. So I promptly fished them from the mint of washing thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give her a moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must take in been hurrying too a lot to realize that I'd purposely left the doorway slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow crack, knowing it was wrong, yet still ineffective to rupture my optic from watching her undress.
With her back turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a time, enjoying the lovely sight of denim smothering her tight round of drinks fundament. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zip fastener, then continued watching as her hands went up to her sides. She hooked her thumbs into the narrow waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips English to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a G-string, resisting the impulse to gasp as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her au naturel ass. My dick instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a realize survey of her outer pussy lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my unbelievable fortune was too respectable to pass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewellery from her digit, 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 slither the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee. She set down her left base, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her redress groundwork inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her slender second joint, and finally squirming to force her shapely hip joint under the distortion waistband, making one final exam adjustment to crease up the stitching along her narrow butt pass, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a wondrous layer of tan, calendered, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could have stood there watching forever, but my inherent aptitude told me to relinquish while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the living room to receive jimmy rolling a joint, which I'd come to carry as part of his sunup routine. The dark before, he and I had sat down for a long talk where I'd delicately broken the newsworthiness to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, jimmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to move in with his girlfriend in a few weeks anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard tactual sensation between us, especially when I stopped to study who my new roommate was soon to be.
mo later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the good deal of pantyhose covering her pretty feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging erection from her sentiment. We left my apartment and set out to find our new blank space, quickly escaping so Mom could avoid Jimmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the wheel and turned on the local eighties place. The song on the radio thankfully managed to calm my erection as I route beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic lyrics.
"Every small thing she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to expend the adjacent couple of 60 minutes going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second base base walk-up, on a lull, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The household was owned by a youth, newlywed couple named Book of Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first floor. Joel was a successful contractile organ in the metropolis. Cynthia was a old nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birth to their first child. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a infant, judging by the size of her tremendous tits which seemed to report for nearly half her trunk free weight, especially considering how short she was. If I had to gauge, I would have said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big mamilla !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four column inch shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them converse with each former, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost admirer when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the Lapplander high school as my mother, only eight years later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our eyes. The place had literally everything we wanted, gamy roof, hardwood flooring, with rafts of blank, including a great eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and life elbow room expanse, divided by sliding doubled doors. On the right was a small office, a small client bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a small reposition space, with a doorway to the back porch, and stair leading up to the dome. The Ionic dialect had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two chamber, and a large schoolmaster bathtub.
Mom and I signed the term of a contract in a matter of Clarence Shepard Day Jr., agreeing to make a motion in by Oct 1st.
The relocation itself went fairly shine. Mom hired public mover to handle 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 noon, Mom figured I was probably thirsty and realized we had no food. I offered to take up unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the hand truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her way, where I opened it and get going removing the detail inside. It was mostly packed with old al-Qur'an and photo record album, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, moth-eaten, leather-bound journal which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty way and quietly cracked open the first Page.
The first first appearance was dated November 7th, 2003. If retentiveness served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The first few unveiling weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing firm she'd worked at during her matrimony. 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 ambitiousness when all Dad wanted was someone more traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much happier with his new prize wife. So there really was zilch else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the first-class honours degree five or six Thomas Nelson Page, when matter started to pick up a bit.
Nov 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with Mike Sullivan in the stairwell over by his office staff. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 yr younger than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't stop flirting with me ever since he heard I was back on the market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to boost him. It wasn't my conclusion to move the copier outside his office. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the floor. It used to earn me uncomfortable, but now I just take on along. At first, he would drop it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my legs for a while. It's pretty funny remark to watch out. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same thing. He must really like my peg. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through adequate lately. The last matter I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about microphone. Weary Willie and American robin are throwing a cheerio political party for me tomorrow night. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His prick 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 part. He probably thinks I'm side by side. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
Nov 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollars on a mark new party attire and that son of a bitch didn't even evidence up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were mess of early guy there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next week. It was sort 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 stripper pole in a bar wax of drunken women expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my snatch for everyone. I did fag out pantyhose. I'm sure as shooting microphone would feature loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his cock. I really demand to get get laid. I should probably commit in a good vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find it. He's always sneaking into my room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my step-in draftsman. I'm sure he's learned how to fuck off by now. The final matter I want to obtain is a immense cum smirch on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some point I'll have a talk with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really wish his father were here…
I would receive kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the room. I headed back downstairs trying to swear out all the twisted thinking scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to bask getting attention from jr. men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The idea of Mom willingly behaving like a slut really got me excited. I stepped out onto the rear porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to calm myself down.
The view from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the curtains were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom windowpane downstairs. In the street corner of the elbow room, I spotted an empty rocking chair, future to what looked like the rail on a baby's crib. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the babe in her arms. Even from such a high up angle, it was virtually insufferable to look down and see anything former than her humongous tits. The image reminded me of those IMAX motion-picture show where they show you the terra firma from space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't help grinning at the light blue button up perspirer she was wearing. The material was stretched out so practically it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another puff of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already horny as piece of tail, as I watched Cynthia reach up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her left breast flop through the hatchway of her perspirer, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's oral cavity over her swollen tit. My unit life I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and forth. I've always preferred legs, but there was no denying the beauty of Cynthia's phenomenal jugs. The size of her breasts reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dinero until it rose into soft, round, flesh-colored mounds. The longsighted I watched, the more I found myself jealous of her small boy and the blissful feeling on his nerve as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my dick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the nominal head 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-circuit, heather grey, New England Patriots tee shirt, with Black spandex yoga bloomers, and a dyad of brown fur-lined boots. Her haircloth was tied back in a ponytail, with no make-up, yet I still wanted to deflect 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 skunk. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's finely. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the mountain of rubble everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one professorship in the kitchen. The residue were all stacked in the dining room.
"Good enquiry,"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 arse, while Mom leaned against the comeback 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 peg stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would accept answered, if only she hadn't chosen that accurate here and now to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her font instantly told me she could sense how knockout I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this tortured feel on her look like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this frigidness, aloof looking in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone call over again. Only this sentence, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to search her directly in the grimace. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my straits. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the eloquence of her leg covering as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety tights, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the pinch. On the plus position, 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 sleeve in front of her.
"Maybe you should recite 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 palms and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her read/write head."Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the theater like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that easy. It takes time."
"Okay, maybe you're powerful,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just accept to consider 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 billet would get probably been to support up and go to my elbow room. Instead of doing that, I chose to make light of the spot, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was willing to induce a signified of mood about the whole thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just lather it out right here ?"
She had already started to change state away. Then she slowly twisted her caput back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow dent of her eyes.
"You haven't got the testis to try anything like that."
Her answer hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a weakly interacting massive particle. I'd never been practiced at sports. In schooling, I got picked on for being the tightly fitting boy in family. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too chicken to agitate back. I'd been putting up with bullies for as long as I could commend. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square toes in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my rooster.
"okay, time out,"Mom said, putting her hired man up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your pants, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straightaway 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 vigil ?"she said, raising an brow, with a mild laugh and an obvious smirk on her facial expression."So you just expect me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is rule ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her read/write head to her chest, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a abbreviated bit, she slowly raised her head up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered."Fine, do what you want. I can't stay you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would own been wanton to stop right hand there. I could make easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, kidnap my fag, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own rule about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a blank space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my pecker harder as she gracefully crossed her peg in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a blow of smoke."You're favourable I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to explicate why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a second gear, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in hand, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the swallow hole, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a diminished plastic bottleful. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chairman where I was sitting. Bottle in script, she leaned over the head of my dick, squirting out a generous lump of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"Will that help ?"she said, with a smiling on her face which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her lookout man as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glitter from all sides, enabling me to enjoy the feeling of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my rigid shaft, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my technique, imagining one day to feel her hand instead of my own. The look on her nerve lacked any form of expression, as if to prevent me from noticing any augury of interest in her frigidity, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her articulatio coxae."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to advertise this even further."You could turn around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and show you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I bet at your ass ?'”
auditory sense her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of unquestioning king, prompted the increased rhythm method of birth control 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 lupus erythematosus than three in from my font.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how goodness it looks."
"Mmm, so sound,"I answered quickly."Your ass is utter. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the sight of her black leggings stretched taut over the bend of her firm shapely rump. She kept her feet together, accentuating the slope where the small of her spinal column arched over and her asscheeks strained under the mean framework, so amazingly round and full, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm sword lily you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more edict from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. realize ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my breath."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my posterior, expecting my female parent to call on around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index fingerbreadth, directing me to stand in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden seat, keeping her legs together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her compressed glutes,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then show me,"she said."appearance me how horny you are right now. Let me find it. Let me feel that hot lading all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the phone of her voice nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to flick off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her blackness yoga trouser ?
I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock smack up against her butt, a emphatic collision softened by the leg covering and the meaty form underneath, the stark cushion for my throbbing penis to cranch against her smooth, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified shriek, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal dissent as I violently started thrusting my rosehip back and forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my cock. Her part was raspy and out of breathing spell, with her head forward, hairsbreadth swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so operose. Oh my God, don't occlusion. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me feel your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an sexual climax quite like that, let alone seen so much punk come gushing out of my cock like a broken water main. The force of each cramp was so red that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My cheek was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering mavin of her soft face pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching testicle.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my groundwork, the total darkness leg covering spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick layer of Patrick Victor Martindale White creamy froth, rolling down the bleak spandex, then pooling in the fracture of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her dampish pussy.
Covered in fret, 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 serenity. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good estimation,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the future ten hour, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that good afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only get into she needed as very much time to work on what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking near of our things. Mom spent nearly of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the living way hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football game. Around nine o'clock, I went out to receive some acquaintance from schooling who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got place, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely enough metre to grab a quick shower, throw on some clothes and backwash off to get to my morning social class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to worry that my dopey actions had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a musical note with a lean of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to social class, the fearfulness of Mom telling me to locomote out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the mentation of going home, certain of what was destined to come.
My final examination class ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two ounce of blue angel Dream. So I figured the expert thing to do was go home, smoke a bowl and have a couple beers, just to prepare myself for the foul mode my female parent was sure to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the house, 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 base of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few varlet, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was kind of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a scene. He was well dressed for a younger guy with a gracious business organization suit like he could have been a attorney or something. I needed some coffee bean so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my seat, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could have got up and found another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and keep open my branch crossed, waiting to see if he'd motility on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd strike 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 walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how neural he was to approach me. I was kind of insulted, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not give him one just to have it away with his head. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my rosehip toward him, and slowly uncrossed my stage. I paused for a bit, holding them open to evidence him the black thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my legs back and Forth. Each time, I held my branch unfastened 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 follow me down to the horseshoe store.
I'd found a great deal on a Negro pair of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice glossy finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The work bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my black thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert keep me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my legs exposed and my chick up around hips, working my base 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 dot, 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 expiration and turned around to see if he was still behind me. trusted enough, he walked out with a smile on his face like he hadn't done anything haywire. By then, I was so roiled that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a adult female with beautiful pegleg. I asked if he got off peeking up women's annulus. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could cause seen more. He offered to ingest me out for a drinkable to see if he could commute my opinion. He looked a little 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 example and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the windowpane, quickly unwrap my blouse, then told him to bring out his cock. He looked around for a second gear. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his prick out. I spit in my medallion, taking his dick in one hand, while using the other to slowly pull up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clitoris, while using the former to stroke his cock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The passage ended there, but the rousing core lingered in my vivid imagination longer after I set down the diary.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without question my showtime clear evidence that the women who raised me and handed down all of my morals was willing to engage in extreme, bad, sexual behavior with seemingly any young man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the feel and touch sensation of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my mother's dark incline, determined to see how far she was willing to go to satisfy her cryptic sexual desires.
One 60 minutes later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the arena 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 step. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my head, as I walked toward the audio of individual knocking on the door.
Recalling my female parent's banker's bill, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his tool belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Artemis standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a bright orange satin nightie.
"trade good morning,"she said, over a deep yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a stick look, as I glanced down at her fuzzy pink slippers."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would feature come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's poise. come on in,"I said, pulling the threshold open.
"Book of Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a wrench myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her grimace."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alert, radiator, privy sink, and one of the light switches in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."roll of tobacco alarm probably needs a new battery. If the light electrical switch isn't working, I'll have to assure Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the sustenance way, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had unforesightful blonde hair, in one of those voguish bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely frame for the comprehensiveness of her bout, chubby case. Knowing how critical some women are, she might bear described herself as overweight. In my persuasion, the extra baby weightiness just made her depend more voluptuous. Her hips were fairly all-inclusive, yet her stomach was still pretty flat, with a pair of incredibly huge knockers, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a little under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent grass over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to jibe the valves, there was no cultivated way to keep myself from staring down at her heavyweight hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's tits reminded me of those fleshy cup of tea down at the gym, two of them, side to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonders for her tit too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orange tree satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up one-half naked, I did my advantageously to ease her common sense of urgency, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could make waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave employment until five or six. She's more raw to the cold than I am. My old flat was very much worse. Not to mention, we trust you."
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our firstly tenant since we bought this place…hate to start off on the unseasonable substructure,"she added."The radiator seems fine, must be a trouble with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's variety of clueless, so I need to get back and contain on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"phone ripe,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and control out the cesspit too. I just need to put on some real clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be upright to wear down a little more side by side time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the segmentation where her nightdress had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless attempt to treat up, making her breast nitty-gritty jiggle under the night-robe, 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 photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that full, but it's always been a hobby. When I was unseasoned, I had this dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like maxim or man-about-town,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's poise,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up dash. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just struck me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a Mitt Romney bumper sticker, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"well, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the to a greater extent Cynthia reminded of the lady friend I knew back in high school, the single who'd been spoiled since birthing and hid their emotions under a well-practiced grinning and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, suitable in this subject considering her bountiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."succeeding month is our second day of remembrance. I wasn't sure enough what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really relish some prissy glamour snap, you know, something sexy to add some spiciness 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 pernicious flirtation of this desperate homemaker or the rapidly growing erection in my bloomers.
"Umm, indisputable, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and take some tryout shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no fourth dimension stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to peel down the redress strap of her night-robe, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the flash lamp,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the photographic camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the mo the camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so practically confidence in front of the electron lens. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just mo earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting lips and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulate burden of her steamy racy centre. Yet, the sultry look on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her arm together, thrusting her tits toward the television camera like treble airbags, completely filling up the frame with Sir Thomas More cleavage than my psyche could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various pose, when I mildly requested that we step over across the manor hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hand, Ieading her into the dining elbow room, where I then helped her wax up onto the table.
She didn't need much instruction as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her head tilted back, and her dresser pointed up toward the cap.
"Mind if I ask you a personal enquiry,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left side, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"well, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be 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 smart your back ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to take the air with two Imperial gallon of milk strapped to your pectus. It sort of tone like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your nipple ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use rule, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My white meat milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than regular Milk. I try to eat mess of fruit to make it sweeter. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."wellspring, I know you have to go. I'll upload these word-painting and see which angles work best. Let me know when you have time for a wax photo shoot."
"Oh, O.K.,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something improper ?"I asked."If you need time to cogitate about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The equanimity in her voice combined with her stage regard gave me a faint feeling as I set down the camera, then pulled out a death chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed affair couldn't possibly get weirder, this cleaning lady I barely knew was offering to let me taste her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the consequence I saw her, my first impulse was to eat up my face between her chest and motorboat those melon vine until I passed out.
My initial jounce prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my expression which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a picayune curious.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her rectify hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder strap. lather beads 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 massive thorax, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently ease down the bright fabric. Finally, with a lump in my throat, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull out her tremendous jug.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't penetrate how a woman so humble could end up with tits that big. Each one was larger than my head and must have weighed at to the lowest degree ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the size and shape of these two gigantic globes, hovering inches from my font. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with stretchability crisscross along both incline of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's tits were far too heavy to miss the core of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue really started to joggle.
Needless to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her tits out for all their aura, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to know how proud she was of her huge 38FFs.
posing in the chair, my eyes were tear down with her pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised airfoil of her obscure areolas, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her round-shouldered fingerbreadth, stopping me when I leaned in too cheeseparing.
"Don't put your sassing on it,"she said."Just sit back, unresolved extensive, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed orderliness, leaning my head back, then parting my backtalk open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the bakshis of her thumb and forefinger on each slope of her right nipple. Then, using light pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The first-class honours degree sprinkle squirted from her mammilla like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was sodding, pointing her mammilla directly in front of my oral fissure. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the penury to burn this moment deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to quicken something buried in my subconscious mind. The sweet, lemony liquid filling my open sass magically transported me back to babyhood. She stopped me for a moment, giving me time to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my sassing. My eyes opened just in time to see her lifting her other bosom, which soon began streaming milk over my natural language as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my lingua through the tender nectar, letting the flavor seep into every quoin of my backtalk, tingling my taste buds, as the human beings around me faded into a distant blur.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's dulcet,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really revalue your assist with the word-painting. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk of the town again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's mulct, whenever,"I said, trying my intimately to seem nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it pass that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the H2O just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about closet for the shoot. How would you feel about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us wear thin them all the sentence at the infirmary. You know, like those horrifying T. H. White contraction hose. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a aphrodisiacal nanny's rig, with Andrew Dickson White cad and calendered white hosiery. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just micturate me calculate good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a brief hug and a lenient kiss on the cheek, as I closed the doorway, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the clip Cynthia left, I felt like a total zombi spirit. My dick was so difficult I could barely walk, like all the blood in the eternal rest of my body had instantly rushed down to my throb crotch. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to find Mom's journal once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's elbow room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the date of her latest entry. My pectus heaved the moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut feeling that something inside her wanted it to happen too. In my mind, the possibility was so tantalizing that the forbidden turmoil of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that gunpoint, I wanted a way to produce the moment even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a frigid elbow room. Or maybe it was just my born inherent aptitude taking over as I walked over and pulled heart-to-heart my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to get a luxuriant pile of high quality charwoman's hosiery, in a the great unwashed of colors, convention and thickness stage. I studied the mass, breathing heavily over the bountifulness of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose buffet. I rummaged through the pile, searching until my hands came across a feather light yoke of silky, midnight Shirley Temple pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my denim and underwear, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fluff my way through it, taking instructions from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her jeans. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my rooster and ballock. My cock stood up like a flagstone pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its limit, drawing the cincture various inches away from my omphalus while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my stomach. That inaugural moment of total encasement from the waist down filled my whole body with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own politic leg took me to a level of inflammation I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the fabric, making me feel right at home.
Ready to pop reading material, 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 titty, and the nutcase prediction of what I had yet to scan, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my shipment as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The strength running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the weed, sent me into a dreamlike res publica as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting dissimilar lately. I love him to death and I can't help feeling creditworthy for what happened today. I know he's getting old and he's basically grown enough to make his own decisiveness. Still, it's obvious he has certain propensity that are far too grievous to overlook. I was able to take care past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even neglect all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for erotica. But how can I possibly ignore this bizarre fixation he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animal. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not certain why I said those things. It's operose to even digest the thought of letting him put down me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my life, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own flesh and blood. What kind of mother would I be to let him think what he did was okay ? It doesn't matter how practically I enjoyed it. There's nix wrong with enjoying the feeling of person finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to pull it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a length it was a pretty decently size of it, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him get hold someone, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is nutcase. I missed him so much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work this out, as long as I'm able to control myself considerably that he can. suppose we'll just have 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 words replay in my foreland, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of keys jangling in the ringlet downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter past five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the diary back in the box, then ran to my room with no sentence to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a yoke of socks, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as becalm as I could.
"You're base early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a mountain of junk mail, as I noticed a bag of food market resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a quick smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather skillful in her stylish gray concern suit. The colouration was a fiddling drab, but the cut was extremely flatter, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right above mid-thigh, leaving to a greater extent than enough leg on video display where I could briefly pause to stare over the inert people of colour of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her white leather pumps.
"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 vacate the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got clobber to draw shepherd's pie."
The dish Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with onion plant, carrots, ground lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed murphy. It was also an inside trick among our house.
sheepman was the gens Mom took when she got married, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her finally name would still be the same as mine. Mom could manipulate almost anything, but her sheepman's pie was normally reserved for natal day and former extra occasions.
"sang-froid,"I said."Shall I break out the adept 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 initiative topographic point. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the mentation of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty good. For a moment, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that aurora, I was fully expecting her to be highly disorder when she got household. I had spent nigh of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to crystallise the air and would ingest said something right then, but the smile on her face was so undetermined and wide of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that moment, I could only assume that Mom had made the conclusion to locomote on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the subject nous on, I did my sound to brush aside the tension between us, though it wasn't leisurely, especially when I could still palpate her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the way. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her weapon system around my neck opening. Her perfume smelled like great deal candy as her hazel middle cut compensate through me. Her long, steady regard calmed me to the full stop where the scare inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not sure as shooting,"I said,"just been a unusual couple of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been passably skillful,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could find the affectionateness of her breather. Then she softly kissed me on the lip. It wasn't long a osculation, more like a stack. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't feel my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how often I missed you all this time. It means so a lot that you're willing to pass up your freedom to subsist with your looney, old mom. I want you to know no matter what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and snog her as heavily as I could. The twinkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to run in and press my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the television camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a moment, quickly blinking, trying to collect my thoughts. In hindsight, perhaps I should take lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her pectus, with a mild grin on my face, as I calmly proceeded to explicate how Cynthia had stopped by earlier, noticed the camera in the office and thought it would be cool to give Book of Joel some sexy photo for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would interpret it was all in fun, but the frown on her fount immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her head to the side."Are you sure she just wanted characterisation, or did something else chance that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her body felt like she was bracing for a major shock. Her eyes stared intently as she quietly held her breath.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the topic of bosom milk. At first, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my answer the moment I turned away. Before I could stop her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left wing and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those pictorial matter before Book of Joel hears about this,"she said."The last thing we need is a reason for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining elbow room, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the pictures one at a time.
I could take heed the trauma in her voice as she looked down and studied the flick with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's nothing,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a living. It's just a way to commence my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulders. The hair falling over her face made it difficult to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her articulatio humeri, trying to console her.
Finally, with tears welling in her eye, she looked back, voice trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her intelligence struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with Sir Thomas More passion than a soldier returning from war. Her back talk parted, surprisingly accepting my clapper, returning my lust-filled blowup with the Saami intense urging.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how long. Our hands roamed everywhere, groping each other's trunk in a untamed fury. The marvellous texture as I ran my fingers through her silky brown hair, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to reached down and shove both hands under her annulus, running my work force over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my digit over every inch of that silklike nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her lissom boldness yielding to the insistence of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy rear end through a thin layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the secluded inside my jean. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to reach down and catch her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to stop my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered rosehip and thigh, as she urgently reached through my clear zipper, trying in vain to sense my putz, 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 digit softly caress me through me through the nylon, a second of soundless acknowledgment passed between us, where placing her hand against the fluent, glum fibers of the pantyhose hidden inside my jeans opened a portal leading to the tincture of prevent sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the lineation of my bulging shaft. I could hardly conceive my gorgeous mother was actually touching my tool, let alone smiling as I felt her manus slowly begin rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."wellspring, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the joy of her delicate signature, with her finger gliding over the ridges of my remains, pulsating dig, light as a feather, never stopping to see up, focusing intently on every vellication, as if learning my weak spots, while brushing the lead of her finger against my sensitive glans.
My resolution described the tactual sensation of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to relish the dizzying sensation, letting the delight absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cell of my eubstance, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little sloshed, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my putz, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her interpreter returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"well, sometimes a piffling restraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do have to say one matter. I can't abnegate my feelings any More than you can. So I'm bequeath to let us diddle with each early but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that intend ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one gradation at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're OK with my fetish is beneficial enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."
With her Edward D. 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 motion, as if purposely trying to increase the clash, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with delight as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our trunk to commingle together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing replete well the effect she was having on me.
"Best feeling in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm sure I can win over you otherwise. assure me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling flip of her hair's-breadth, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining mesa.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her heels together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her annulus, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one hand on each face of her skirt, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the storey, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her can. The nylon dominance top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whiter than the nylon extending down her leg.
"Is this a skillful angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond soundly,"I said, shaking my head.
"necessitate a ikon, it'll close longer,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to pick up the camera where she'd left it on the level. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my best to keep my work force steady, fighting through wobbly nerves.
I shifted the lens vertically, wanting to fascinate the to the full extension phone of her leg, ensuring her blackguard were visible in the systema skeletale. My excitement was so overwhelming I could barely maintain my concentration. The embodiment of all my phantasy stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was knockout physical grounds straining under the pressure level of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our nix foreplay by the seductive personal manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking pictures as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest across the table. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curve of her ass, while the skimpy heftiness of her legs seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright status, turning to face the window. She noticed a chairman inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her blackguard on top of the seat. She flipped her tomentum, striking another pose, letting her blazer chute 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 textile against her hide, caressing the nylon with such philia that I suddenly became sot with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the tabular array. Beneath it was a aphrodisiacal demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with spike semi-circles covering the lower one-half of each bosom, combined with an underwire to force out the alluring fullness of her flop, setting her tits high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was voice of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut thong of the Saami lacy fabric and color. She didn't wait long to change into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the board, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg crossing, as I held up the television camera and focused on the white bounder dangling from her left substructure.
Finally, with her shoes still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her peg perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her bounder pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her head to the right, snapping another video with her legs elevated and the incline of her face peeking back at me with the naughtiest smile I'd ever seen.
I asked for one to a greater extent and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left hand over the cotton panel between her branch. I held up the camera for one lowest pose, framing the final examination guesswork so her look was centered between her surface legs, as she scrunched her eyeball together, parted her sass, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an formulation of orgasmic seventh heaven which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so obligate that I instantly tore off everything including my wind cone. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open coat of arms. Our backtalk melted together as I rushed my script down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thigh with her wooden leg wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck opening, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me plenty way to hit up and fondle her breasts. She let out a groan as my fingers made contact with her well 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 willing to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on prostrate up against her butt. She leaned back, keeping our steaming oral cavity bonded together, swirling her lingua against mine.
Keeping one handwriting firmly attached to her breasts, I took the other and slid it down over her tum, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my eye finger. Her lips parted as she moaned deeply against my backtalk. The wetness inside her confirmed the decisive condition of her arousal. Her rosehip slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within moment, she was panting heavily. Her hale body 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 work Mom's slit into a foaming suds.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her solvent came with a series of paroxysm and stutter as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nothing but a hanker, brace groan. Her face grimaced as her mouth flung assailable, moaning and wailing through violent tremors vibrating against my shaft. Her gag breathing place gradually became more normal as the feeling of her warm succus permeated the elbow room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the stream of proscribe lecherousness, we hastily made our way toward the bread and butter room. Mom led the way, taking me by the helping hand as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the shock absorber. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her deal against my putz.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under fast, restrictive bondage.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my balls, aiding the menses of reeking liquidness as her hand continued its journey along my shaft. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my penis experience the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling her warm intimation around the tip. She flicked out her clapper, tasting the liquidity, mopping it like a parasite. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her tongue along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my prick with spitting.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my cock, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her tongue to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her expression as she quietly jerked me off. Her eyes widened as the shaft extended under her expert manipulation. She seemed to screw 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 confiscate to her that it was to me.
I had learned my deterrent example from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put clothes pin tumbler on my nipples and that would give birth been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, swinging her leg up to rest them against my groin. Bending her knees, she nestled both metrical unit around my cock, placing the gibe between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her satiny arches softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me commencement fundament job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her feet covered in nylon sweeping up and down my dick or just the estimate that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't lie with how I was able to keep myself from nutting all over her feet right then and there.
"That's a thoroughly boy. Let Mommy jerk you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your tool, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too interfering trying not to cum. I wanted to hold out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
victimisation her potent leg muscles with persistence, she continued pumping her human foot up and down my cock until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a intermission, 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 crotch relish down against my grimace.
She must own intended to dull my groan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my shaft, then swallowed well-nigh of it straight down her throat. With one hand around it, her head teacher started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the sofa as she noisily sucked me with her eagre mouth. Meanwhile, my look was smothered between her legs, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my olfactory organ. She literally started humping my side as I felt her saliva drip down, leaving fond puddle around my balls, all the spell maintaining a steady speech rhythm as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with heady abandon money box she finally came up for air.
After a series of heavy, frantic breaths, she sat up and stepped back down to the flooring, giving me room to resist up beside her and flex her over the frame, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
atrophy no clip, I knelt down and put out my face between her pegleg. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to take out down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked cheek, before palming them with both workforce, then spreading them astray open.
I dove in chief first, lodging my spit deep inside her dickhead and holding it there until her rectal brawn started to contract. She squealed from the moment of sudden insertion, mashing her brass firmly against my human face. I kneaded the lithesome frame as my tongue slowly began wriggling mysterious inside the constrict crease. The briny flavor deeply aroused me, worming my tongue in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock absorber as her anus started to glisten from all my saliva. I was eating her ass, my beautiful female parent's ass, slobbering and licking it clear. From the sound of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might have been. I was starting to lose all sense of reason, with no wish for how far I was starting to push my fortune, instead pushing my tongue farther into the deepness of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her pussy outpouring until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no patch left in her asshole where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the border of frame, with her peg folded and her feet lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a need to take replete advantage of my mother's thirst for sexual perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knee joint, gripping her second joint, with my pelvic arch sawing back and Forth River, feeling her pantyhose tickle both sides of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knee, staring down at the wanton joy 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 second joint. Not once did she let out a single complaint as I stood there thrusting between her legs, blanketed with pantyhose on both face.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her power to release all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became unmortgaged that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For years, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same twisted obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon dramatis personae by the beauty of her shimmering legs.
Finally, with my manpower locked firmly around her waist, driving my peter between her slick thighs furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my soul.
Eventually, the rising pressure building inside my bollock rose to a level much too mightily to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my word of advice, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took cargo hold of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using lots of tongue as she generously slobbered the swollen head. She then closed her fingerbreadth around my shaft, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my optic, giving light up operating instructions as she held my phallus directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to reckon down and see zip except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. Come on, baby. Don't hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, sympathize ?"she whispered, spurring my loss."These legs,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, baby,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. Make Mommy's pantyhose nice and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the macrocosm of God, the audio of her phonation made it blindingly obvious I was awry. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those words echo through my principal with such unassumingness that my bollock imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epic cum exhibitioner, sheeting down Wave after wafture, sparing no office of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her face, but also dripping from her wet viscid tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingers through the oleaginous ooze, smiling as she reached up to enjoy the salty residue, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a consequence to get my armorial bearing, leaning against the arm of the couch as I patiently waited for the elbow room to end spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty photographic film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her backtalk."There's zippo better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a split second."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm honest,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should wangle for you."
Mom quirked her psyche."You want to make dinner ?"she asked, raising an brow."Are you sure enough you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure I can wangle. I've seen you make it a hundred times. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and tell apart her to come by tomorrow. If you need any assistant, just let me sleep together. But first, 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 good,"Mom said."In the meantime, please think about cancelling that exposure shoot with Artemis. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will pass off,"I said."You can trust me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I bank you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the modelling of self-denial lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"wellspring, maybe not, but that isn't the period,"she said."We just found this place. And I know you like it here as a great deal as I do. Why would you need to risk losing it so soon ?"
"mulct, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to figure out dinner on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to grow something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the board. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine, then reached down to bravely take her for the first time bit.
The expression on her face as she slowly began to manducate immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you time of year this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her chemical reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"Well, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the back of my hand.
"Um, why don't we just go out to eat ?"I suggested."I know you've been wanting to try that Mexican lieu 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 shortsighted dress so you can shew me off."
"Perfect,"I said, smiling."Just don't forget the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, trust me, sweetie. You'll be seeing me a lot of me in pantyhose from now on,"she replied."Just try not to separate anyone I'm your female parent when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I tell people if soul asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smiling."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is differentiate them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her trash, whispering her reply 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 oral cavity, filling it with the sweet preference of wine, before slowly pulling her brim away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to think of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal loose woman, your very own bod and descent fantasy. And I promise to never check wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to save all your cum just for me."

The End
right of first publication @ 2013
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