sheepman's Pie
By Earth Angel

It all started when I was 10 years old, the twelvemonth my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only tike to have his fixation with G thieving Auto blindsided by his first crush.
I had just started Junior high, where they made us show boring stuff and nonsense like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too Thomas Young to sympathise the risk of forbidden lecherousness, yet old enough to notice how my female parent would often do the aphrodisiacal things without knowing it.
thing might have been different had my female parent been more volition to let me out of her quite a little. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally come after at her blackguard everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my free time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more peculiar trend.
She had an extensive skid collection, most of which were high-pitched bounder. She loved wearing bounder so much that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the house, by practicing in unseeable stilettos.
No topic what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a straw. If she was sitting at base grading papers, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Lord's Day, though she knew almost nothing about sports. She just enjoyed wearing her fitted New Jersey and a pair of leotards, rooting for whichever team had the cutest quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would tip down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The impression excited me so a lot that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the clip I finished high school, I was so used to being by my mother's side that leaving for college less than an 60 minutes away filled me with highly flux emotions due to all the amazing memories left behind.
By my third year at Emerson, the novelty of living away from menage had worn off almost completely. With each expiration day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no fille and only a few male friends to help vote out the boredom.
One disconsolate afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blue, with the revolutionary theme of finding a new apartment for us to live together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with long, fall, chestnut Brown tomentum, hazelnut tree middle, flat cheek and tight fitting lips set between her oval Chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her glory days of senior high shoal gymnastic exercise, where she'd collected multiple trophy, mostly for balance beam. Still, she kept her eubstance in tremendous build, wearing trendy outfits that proudly displayed her pert breasts, tight ass, and full of all, her long, head-turning branch.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my mother was the hottest woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a broad blown obsession. I tried my best to retain her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to care that I seemed to own no interest in other girls.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the view of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, dumpy apartment. My roomie was a summate slob. Yet, in cattiness of the headaches, and as much as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to drop my Junior year getting hammered every Night and screwing as many co-eds as potential. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in world, I was still the Lapp close kid from Rhode Island, with a leaning to fidget and make awkward jokes around girls 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 favorite motion picture of her on my mobile phone telephone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum truehearted than looking at image of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as hanker as I could remember I had always been captivated by my mother's leg. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up event provision to teach merchandising at a nearby community college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their bird. By that time, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many geezerhood. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this basic element of her daily business attire distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and dimension of her farsighted, sinuous legs.
Maybe it was familial, or perhaps it was just pubescence, but around that clip, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first place. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic force immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary undergarment was imbued with extraordinary powerfulness luring my eyes to footle over the lithe timbre of her tip, slender calfskin, moving up to the meaty pulp of her firm sculpted thighs, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her articulatio coxae, topped by a set of toothsome round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering duds of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very first sentence that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one affair that never left me was an urgent impulse to look down and regard over the fulgent aura emanating from her legs. From the ass of all her curt skirts, down to the bakshis of her toes, each dyad she wore had the business leader to enthrall me with its own seductive coruscation.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at menage waiting for her to walk in and quetch off her aphrodisiacal heels. My dreamy centre followed as she tiptoed around the sign, lost in the ardent glow of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The thirster I stared, the more I became desperate to tip my growing fixation 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 baffle for me out in public. She'd always been the case of mother who gladly encouraged any sideline I developed, especially my growing interestingness in photography. Eventually, I managed to collect dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous legs. I was sure she never suspected what I actually did with her moving picture after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to mention being her son.
My best-loved pictures for jerking off were the ace that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before teaching, working in corporate America had given her many old age to develop this particular accomplishment. As a trained pro, she was far too elegant to read one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her head up and her buoyant breasts pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, cross her hands under her bird, then with replete extension, snap out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, sleek stem, the lush contour line visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower second joint, all this in one rousingly unstable apparent motion, seamlessly merging her business firm shapely calves in deliciously perfect alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the former, sweeping against the metric grain, a thrilling phone that instantly made my prick pounding hearing that pernicious swish.
trench down, I knew it was haywire. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the hottest woman on terra firma. Her voice alone sent chills down my spine, with the perfective enunciation and dignified control of a well-trained, highly confident pedagogue, with only the slightest trace of a distinctive New England accent.
Despite being over forty, her nutritious diet and favorable demeanor gave her a youthful incandescence. She barely ate more than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two naut mi every dawn. While it was clearly a prescribed matter, her healthy lifestyle only encouraged my physical attraction to go forward building and go more potent each day.
Her bra size was an average 34-B. Yet, her small-scale chest proudly stood out in dividing line with her petite waistline, jutting from the unconvincing stuff of her tight blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working individual mom, I had to imagine she still had needs. Yet, to my limited knowledge, after the divorcement, she had no men in her sprightliness. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so often time worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had prison term to date. She should have had go lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own verboten infatuation and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's jail cell routine flashed up across the screen. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her just pictures, taken in prison term second power. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black miniskirt, black ticker, and a radiant couple of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the delineation just as Mom walked over to pose next 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 visible under her long hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her brow against the rusty pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her left human knee behind her back. She stood there holding the pose for several moment, with one horseshoe playfully lifted off the ground and a smiling on her face as bright as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the headphone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained earshot had failed to detect the noisy jangle of knock, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a mo ?"she said quickly."There's something of import I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her representative that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the last five minutes drooling over her aphrodisiacal photos. I'd even pulled out a duo of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my last trip place. She had over a 12. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My dick was already throbbing. All I could opine about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hand, then taking my silky fingers and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the More she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My rental is up in two months,"she said."I just got a alphabetic character that my rent is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can afford that."
"Okay,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not O.K.,"she said."I'm going to have to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd tone if I moved up to Boston."
At that particular present moment, I probably should consume been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so in force around my hammer that I almost blurted out yes without thought, just for the chance to be up close and personal with her astound legs again.
"I understand if you need to retrieve about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it a good deal thought myself. I'm just not sure what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to imagine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random question hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's couch,"she said."I'm on my lunch shift. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the paradigm of her sitting there with her leg crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one horseshoe off her foot, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's mulct,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that piss things easier ?"
"You're justly,"she said."That's actually the real reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roomie. And I've never been nutcase about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a dainty space for the two of us."
It took me another mo to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the tranquil velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely boil down. I was too busy wondering what her free hand was doing as she sat there with one bridge player holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her finger's breadth over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at home ? Was she dipping one animal foot in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to know for for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the instructor's lounge, in fully prospect of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old sentence. I can always find oeuvre at another campus. Plus we can feel a place with more than space for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to strive inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her cordate ass, with just a jot of her pantyhose inset peeking out between her ramification.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to talk to prise about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roommate, even if our term of a contract was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some ground rules,"I added, when I started to realize the exemption I'd be giving up purely to see her legs every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to make the normal now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"Nothing John Major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll obedience each other's privacy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys home or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your Father-God. You won't have to worry about that."
My regular recurrence was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was plastered, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, Thomas More delicate friction to my teasing hand strokes.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each other's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you space to smoke weed and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's naught you can cover from me."
"Mom, what the the pits,"I said, voicing my annoying."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first reaction was to titter. Then, she started to excuse, parsing her Christian Bible 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 sensory faculty that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of real womanhood out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my chronicle too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit uneasy."I never knew you had such a thing for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should inaugurate you to some of the teachers here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my reckoner behind my back, by then my principal was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the discipline to something more stimulating."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a second, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The cosmetic surgery in her voice told me she was smiling on the former end.
"You must have been reading my intellect,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but compliments all day. It was dainty telling everyone my son picked them out."
"Cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't postponement to see how they look."
"Well, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to face at stead in the cockcrow. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might want to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be delicately,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my denim. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a span,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject field.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your dungaree,"I repeated, resisting the itch to moan."I hypothesis that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not occupy in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute or so before I exploded all over my manus."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just make sure as shooting you tell jimmy to wear some pants this clip. It's a little awkward seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a fiend."But then again, you can't really charge 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 little than that."
"well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you celebrate your students from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's sort 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 cleaning lady. We all like to get wind it."
"Well, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my phallus was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your mother, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal bit. In 19 years, my mother had never asked me a doubtfulness as directly intimate as that. My balls were practically about to burst. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my unnatural desire to run my hands over her flaccid silky pantyhose and cum all over her aphrodisiacal stage. Still, I somehow managed to react with an answer intended to hide my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my os frontale."This is starting to postulate a Weird 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 clock time."Seriously, I want to know,"she weightlift, as I held back what felt like a monumental extravasation."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those pestiferous website ?"
My organic structure trembled. I honestly couldn't William 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 sing about this anymore."
"Okay, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to induce you uncomfortable. Just evidence me one thing. Which parting of a fair sex's torso do you like most ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My advantageously pick was to crusade back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we overleap it now ?"
To my astonishment, she didn't plosive speech sound there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the state I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, stop it. I can't take this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this hale thought. It's bad enough you can't find a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the last time,"I said, starting to suffer it."If I really wanted a girlfriend, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one 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 time. I certainly don't want you having intimate thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to tell 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 guardianship. By then, I was pummeling my hammer with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to surcharge every thread with a massive wad of thick sebaceous spunk, purely out of venom.
I closed my middle, instantly reliving the indelible memories that triggered my juju in the first position.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing filmy pantyhose with no dame on. I could see her returning from study in her Negro fuck-me pumps, the stale odor of dampness, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her horseshoe and asked me to rub her tumefy feet. I could even see the way she smiled as she walked down the street, pelvic girdle switching from side to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the phone of her spiked heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to come home, discase off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my tongue over the wet post, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My shocking storage pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my urge to groan, watching jet-propelled plane of cum blast into the air, surging from the mind of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hand, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no idea what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my reckless act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to pull together myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"flavor Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tint."Don't hang up. I know you were just being honorable. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an significant decision, I think you should tell me everything. Tell me the the true, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one manus, by saying no, she'd most potential sense that I was lying, which would only make her raging and potentially screw up any chance of us moving back in together. On the other hand, telling the truth would most likely freak her out so much that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even worse.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the first affair I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the best way to resolve her head was to plough it around and ask her a head of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before foxily attempting to redirect."But starting time I'd like to hear 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 with your head. I think if we're going to subsist together, then you have to foretell to notice a girlfriend and pop aliveness in the real number world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"Good,"she said."I'll see you in the dawn. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The succeeding morn, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, black, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her showtime initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver necklace which failed to keep me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her dunk neckline. Her sorry cheeseparing jeans sat low on her shapely articulatio coxae, hugging every curve under skin-tight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, fateful leather sandals, with thin straps spanning over her naked pes.
Looking down at the turnup of her jeans, the kickoff matter I noticed was the interrupt absence seizure of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my wholly Night tossing and turning in prediction of seeing them the following morning.
My first inherent aptitude was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how pertain she was talking about my fetish. So the last affair I wanted to do was bid any excessive care to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a ardent hug, when my roomy, Jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grin on his aspect told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a civil handshaking. For a few minutes, she and Jimmy stood there making modest talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could verbalise to me in my room.
I led her back to my bedroom and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her last pair of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the pair I'd taken from her bureau. So I promptly fished them from the quite a little of washing thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would chip in her a mo to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must have been hurrying too much to realize that I'd purposely left the room access slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow pass, knowing it was haywire, yet still unable to tear my eyes from watching her undress.
With her backrest turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a time, enjoying the cover girl good deal of denim smothering her tight round bum. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her work force went up to her sides. She hooked her thumbs into the pin down waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her rose hip side to side. I fully expected to see pantie, or at least a G-string, resisting the urge to gasp as she peeled down the dungaree, revealing her raw ass. My tool instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the shank, presenting me with a clear view of her outer puss lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jemmy would walk by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my incredible fortune was too proficient 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 fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her nimble fingers rolled up the first-class honours degree leg. She then lifted her left infantry, then reached down and slid the pack 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 metrical unit, then steadily raised the early, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her decent foot inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her genu, drawing the nylon column inch by inch over her limber thigh, and finally squirming to squash her shapely hips under the distortion sash, making one final exam adjustment to channel up the sewing along her narrow down stub crack, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a wondrous layer of tan, lustrous, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could have stood there watching forever, but my instinct told me to quit while I was ahead, knowing she could twist around and charm me at any moment.
I went back to the living room to find Jimmy rolling a marijuana cigarette, which I'd come to expect as part of his morning routine. The dark before, he and I had sat down for a foresightful talk where I'd delicately broken the news show to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, Jimmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to proceed in with his girlfriend in a few weeks anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard flavor between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roommate was soon to be.
Moments later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the vision of pantyhose covering her pretty feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the room access, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her purview. We left my apartment and set out to find our new place, quickly escaping so Mom could nullify jemmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the steering wheel and turned on the local eighties station. The Sung on the radio thankfully managed to calm my erecting as I road beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic lyric poem.
"Every little matter she does is a illusion. Everything she do just wrench me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the following yoke of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second floor walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The star sign was owned by a young, newlywed duad named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first level. Book of Joel was a successful declarer in the city. Cynthia was a former nurse turned homebody mom who'd recently given birth to their commencement child. Looking at Artemis, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a child, judgement by the size of her enormous mammilla which seemed to calculate for nearly half her physical structure system of weights, especially considering how short she was. If I had to guess, I would take in said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital letter G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big mamilla !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four in shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the Saame high school as my mother, only eight years later.
Cynthia led us up to see the flat and we couldn't believe our eyes. The spot had literally everything we wanted, high cap, hardwood floors, with tons of space, including a enceinte eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and sustenance room orbit, divided by sliding twice doorway. On the rightfield was a diminished office, a small guest john, then the kitchen, followed by a small storage space, with a door to the back porch, and stairs leading up to the Ionic dialect. The Classical Greek had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two bedrooms, and a orotund master bath.
Mom and I signed the term of a contract in a matter of 24-hour interval, agreeing to move in by October 1st.
The move itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired proposer to handle all the big furniture. Then, on Dominicus the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hour. Sometime around noon, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no food. I offered to pop 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 room, where I opened it and bulge out removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old volume and photo album, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound journal which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty room and quietly cracked open the first-class honours degree page.
The starting time entrance was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six calendar month after my parents'divorce.
The first few first appearance weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old selling firm she'd worked at during her marriage. She'd already completed her teaching credential and put in her two-weeks notice. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for somebody else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was someone Thomas More traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did look much well-chosen with his new trophy wife. So there really was cypher else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when things started to break up up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with microphone Sullivan in the stairwell over by his spot. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 years younger than me. Plus he's so fully of himself, really not my type. He hasn't stop flirting with me ever since he heard I was back on the food market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to encourage him. It wasn't my determination to displace the duplicator outside his place. I love how he always comes over and cast his pen on the floor. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just play along. At number one, he would miss it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to hang around down there and stare at my stage for a spell. It's pretty funny to determine. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same affair. He must really wish my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The hold out thing I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about microphone. Gene Kelly and redbreast are throwing a goodbye company for me tomorrow Nox. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His hawkshaw got really strong when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonderment he's fucked half the women in the office. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollars on a stain new company dress and that son of a bitch didn't even show up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were plenty of other guys there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next calendar week. It was sort of odd being the marrow of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know Robin was pretty jealous. I told her to stop buying me shots. Besides, no one puts stripper poles in a bar full-of-the-moon of drunken fair sex expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my twat for everyone. I did fag pantyhose. I'm sure mike would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his hammer. I really demand to get fuck. I should probably invest in a good vibrator. I would give bought one calendar month ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find oneself it. He's always sneaking into my way. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my step-in drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to fuck off by now. The last thing I want to determine is a huge cum soil on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some tip I'll have a public lecture with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really wish his Padre were here…
I would own kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the elbow room. I headed back downstairs trying to march all the twisted intellection scrambling through my judgement. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or sinless as I'd always believed. She seemed to delight getting attention from unseasoned men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The intellection of Mom willingly behaving like a trollop really got me excited. I stepped out onto the rachis porch, where I lit up a cigaret, trying to calm myself down.
The eyeshot 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 window downstairs. In the corner of the way, I spotted an discharge rocking chair, next to what looked like the rail on a sister's crib. I flicked my cigaret, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the baby in her arms. Even from such a high Angle, it was virtually impossible to seem down and see anything other than her humongous boob. The simulacrum reminded me of those IMAX movie where they show you the Earth from blank space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't assistant smile at the illumine blue push up perspirer she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so a good deal it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in mental rejection when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already hornlike as fuck, as I watched Cynthia reach up and unsnap her bra from the battlefront, letting her left breast washout through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's mouth over her well pap. My whole life I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth. I've always preferred peg, but there was no denying the beauty of Cynthia's phenomenal jugs. The size of her boob reminded me of my Clarence Day back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dough until it rose into voiced, round of golf, flesh-colored mounds. The farsighted I watched, the Thomas More I found myself covetous of her niggling boy and the blissful look on his look as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my hawkshaw couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front 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 myopic, heather Thomas Gray, New England Patriots T-shirt, with melanize spandex yoga pant, and a pair of browned fur-lined kicking. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no make-up, yet I still wanted to bend her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get practically done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd postponement for you."
"That's amercement. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"trade good interrogative,"she said."Why don't you sit here ? If I get tired of standing, I can always sit on your lap."
Assuming she was just kidding, I grabbed my sandwich and took a place, while Mom leaned against the counter and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the president, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck opening and her pegleg stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would possess answered, if only she hadn't Chosen that claim import to set her ass on top of my inguen. The frown on her face instantly told me she could find how hard I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a endorse, looking at me with this tortured look on her face like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this cold, distant look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the earpiece call over again. Only this clip, there was no clever way for me to spin around it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my foreland. I wanted to say something, but all I could center on was the suaveness of her leging as she pressed her ass firmly against my tool.
Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety tights, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the touch. On the plus side, the fabric was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her subdivision in front end of her.
"Maybe you should severalise me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to confront her, I lifted my sweaty thenar 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 headland."Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the house like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that easygoing. It takes time."
"OK, maybe you're justly,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just deliver to address 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 place would accept probably been to support up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to cause luminousness of the place, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was willing to have a horse sense of humor about the whole thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her nous back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow slits of her eyes.
"You haven't got the nut to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a punch in the gut. My unanimous adolescence was littered with people calling me a crybaby. I'd never been beneficial at sports. In school, I got picked on for being the weedy boy in year. girlfriend pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too yellow-bellied to defend back. I'd been putting up with tough for as long as I could remember. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"okey, time out,"Mom said, putting her script up."This has gone far enough. Put your tool back in your knickers, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight person at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an brow, with a mild laugh and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just anticipate me to neglect you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is formula ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her nous to her thorax, before wearily rubbing her brow. After a abbreviated moment, she slowly raised her head up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered."Fine, do what you want. I can't arrest you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would have been gentle to blockade right there. I could induce easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own prescript about smoking inside the theater. Still, after clearing a distance for herself on the mesa, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in opprobrious spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of smoke."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to excuse why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a endorse, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in mitt, 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 minor plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. bottle in helping hand, she leaned over the header of my cock, squirting out a generous lump of creamy application, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"will that supporter ?"she said, with a grin on her look which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her sentry as I slid my balled fist up to the point, spreading the application over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all sides, enabling me to enjoy the feeling of my own slippery bridge player, rising and falling around my strict pecker, as I sat in forepart of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my technique, imagining one day to sense her hand instead of my own. The feeling on her face lacked any pattern of expression, as if to prevent me from noticing any signs of involvement in her coldness, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could turn around and shew 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 delight. Go on, slight boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I look at your ass ?'”
hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of unquestioning power, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I look at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out lupus erythematosus than three inches from my cheek.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so skillful,"I answered quickly."Your ass is staring. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the mickle of her black leging stretched taut over the curve of her business firm shapely rump. She kept her feet together, accentuating the slope where the small of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight fabric, so amazingly circle and fully, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, grand bubble.
"I'm glad you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just twist over a small further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more club from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my breathing place."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to endure up. We're trading places."
With no hesitancy, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my female parent to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her forefinger finger's breadth, directing me to digest in front of the chairperson. 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 tight gluteal muscle,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then present me,"she said."appearance me how horny you are right now. Let me experience it. Let me find that hot onus all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the sound of her spokesperson nearly caused me to go past out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even open of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to hitch off in our steel new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga pants ?
I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my tool taste up against her tail, a forceful collision softened by the leggings and the meaty physique underneath, the utter cushion for my throbbing phallus to grind against her smoothen, velvety rump.
She let out a terrorise shriek, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal dissent as I violently started thrusting my hips back and Forth River, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, full stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to cease, 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 rooster. Her vocalism was raspy and out of breath, with her head forward, hair swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so hard. Oh my God, don't check. Yes infant, 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 coming quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk get along gushing out of my cock like a split up water main. The force of each muscle spasm was so fierce that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My face was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our torso mashed together, the lingering sensation of her soft cheeks pressed up against my shaft milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching formal.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the black leggings paste over Mom's ass were completely coated under a compact layer of tweed creamy foam, rolling down the bleak spandex, then pooling in the go of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the scissure of her moist snatch.
Covered in perspiration, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go variety,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good idea,"she said, slowly rising to her metrical unit."Just try to invalidate getting another hard-on in the future ten minutes, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that good afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as much time to treat what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking to the highest degree of our affair. Mom spent most of her metre in the kitchen, while I worked in the life room hooking up our boob tube and stereo. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some friend from school who were hanging out business district. By the time I got domicile, Mom had already gone to bed.
The future forenoon, I woke up and walked downstairs to an vacate star sign. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for oeuvre. I'd woken up with barely adequate time to grab a quick exhibitioner, stroke on some clothes and race off to get to my break of day grade. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to vex that my foolish natural process had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a bank bill with a list of matter Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to social class, the fright of Mom telling me to displace out made it virtually unimaginable to pore on anything else. I stared off into blank space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the view of going home, certain of what was destined to come.
My final category ended at high noon. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two ounces of wild blue yonder pipe dream. So I figured the just thing to do was go home, smoke a pipe bowl and have a twosome beers, just to develop myself for the foul temper my mother was indisputable to be in when she got home.
The second I walked in the theatre, I instantly remembered my female parent's journal, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the Same box where I'd left it, right at the foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a transition that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was form of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to snub it rather than causing a scene. He was well dressed for a younger guy with a decent business suit of clothes like he could get been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my seat, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my stage. I could have got up and found another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and keep back my stage crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take the hint and go away. He must get thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to take the air over and say something. But the longer he waited, the to a greater extent I realized how neural he was to approach me. I was kind of insulted, but then I figured if all he wanted was a appearance then why not generate him one just to have it away with his head. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them unfold to show him the Joseph Black flip-flop I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my legs back and forth. Each time, I held my legs exposed for a indorse, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nervus to postdate me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a great deal on a black 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 Bench was so low that sitting down opened my annulus up even more, exposing not only my blackened thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert continue me from buying brake shoe. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my stage open and my doll up around hips, working my feet into the shoes. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play innocent with his back turned. At that point, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the exit and turned around to see if he was still behind me. Sure enough, he walked out with a grin on his nerve like he hadn't done anything wrongfulness. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful branch. I asked if he got off peeking up cleaning lady's skirts. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a cunt or maybe he could let seen more. He offered to take me out for a drink to see if he could change 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 object lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly undid my blouse, then told him to take out his rooster. He looked around for a back. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his putz out. I spit in my palm, taking his rooster in one hand, while using the other to slowly pull up my doll. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the early to stroke his cock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to moan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my second joint, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a 1 word…
The passage ended there, but the rousing impression lingered in my vivid imaginativeness longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without interrogative my first light evidence that the women who raised me and handed down all of my lesson was will to affiance in extremum, risky, sexual behaviour with seemingly any Loretta Young man with a peter. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inside 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-grass on exposing my mother's wickedness side, determined to see how far she was bequeath to go to satisfy her cryptic intimate desires.
One hr later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footsteps coming up the stair. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobweb from my headland, as I walked toward the phone of person knocking on the doorway.
Recalling my mother's greenback, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his putz belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a shining orangeness satin nightie.
"Good good morning,"she said, over a abstruse yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled look, as I glanced down at her fuzzy ping carpet slipper."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would experience come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your married man. But that's cool. Come on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a pull myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her face."That's actually form of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a listing of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, bathroom sinkhole, and one of the light switching in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."fume alarm probably needs a new barrage. If the light switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Book of Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the sustenance elbow room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had unforesightful blonde hairsbreadth, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a adorable frame for the fullness of her beat, chubby boldness. Knowing how critical some women are, she might have described herself as overweight. In my opinion, the surplus infant weight just made her reckon more luxurious. Her coxa were fairly wide, yet her stomach was still pretty level, with a pair of incredibly huge disparager, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a minuscule under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to condition the valves, there was no polite way to keep myself from staring down at her hulk motor horn. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Artemis's tits reminded me of those heavy base down at the gym, two of them, side to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the way did curiosity for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orange satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her excuse for showing up half bare, I did my unspoilt to still her good sense of urgency, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could ingest waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave body of work until five or six. She's more sensitive to the cold than I am. My old apartment was much spoilt. Not to mention, we trust you."
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our number 1 tenants since we bought this place…hate to bulge off on the ill-timed foot,"she added."The radiator seems all right, must be a job with the furnace. We just hired a new she-goat and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and curb on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"Sounds good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and learn out the sink too. I just need to put on some really clothes."
"No rush, always skillful to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to fall apart a little more next time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her gown had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the shoulder strap, a useless attempt to comprehend up, making her breast meat jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to hold open 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 in effect, but it's always been a rocking horse. When I was Young, I had this ambition of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like maxim or Playboy,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's cool,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up vogue. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just struck me as more…I don't know, conservativist, 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 more Cynthia reminded of the young lady I knew back in high school day, the unity who'd been spoiled since nativity and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy tendency, worthy in this shell considering her plentiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our secondly day of remembrance. I wasn't sure what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really revel some nice glamor shots, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her wedlock. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle flirtation of this desperate woman of the house or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pant.
"Umm, sure as shooting, I could serve you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss closet and take some examination nip, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no clock time stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to strip down down the right shoulder strap of her nightgown, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the ignitor in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the flash,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the tv camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the second the photographic camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so much authority in front line of the lens of the eye. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering flirt, with two perfectly pouting lips and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating gist of her steaming blue centre. Yet, the sultry flavour on her fount, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the consequence she crossed her munition together, thrusting her tits toward the tv camera like twofold airbags, completely filling up the frame with more cleavage than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through diverse airs, when I mildly requested that we step over across the hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hand, Ieading her into the dining elbow room, where I then helped her go up up onto the table.
She didn't need much instruction as she stretched out, extending her peg, with her head tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the ceiling.
"Mind if I ask you a personal question,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left over side, returning my head with a knowing smile.
"You want to get laid 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 hurt your back ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two congius of milk strapped to your pectus. It sort of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my drumhead."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Artemis nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use pattern, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My breast milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than regular Milk. I try to eat lots of fruit to make it dulcet. Otherwise, it's form of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."fountainhead, I know you have to go. I'll upload these moving picture and see which angles work best. Let me have it away when you have meter for a total photo shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something incorrect ?"I asked."If you need metre to think about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calmness in her vocalization combined with her level gaze gave me a featherbrained touch sensation as I set down the camera, then pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed thing couldn't possibly get weirder, this woman I barely knew was offering to let me try out her titty milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my first impulse was to bury my facial expression between her chest and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial cushion prevented me from speaking after hearing her crack out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little curious.
She seemed to love teasing me as her justly helping hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder strap. travail beads formed across my brow as she fixed her center 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 still down the lustrous fabric. Finally, with a lump in my throat, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull up out her tremendous jugs.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't fathom how a woman so low could end up with tits that big. Each one was larger than my headland and must have weighed at least ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the size and contour of these two mammoth globe, hovering inches from my fount. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with stretch stain along both side of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's tits were far too backbreaking to scat the effects of gravitational force, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue really started to joggle.
phonograph needle to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her tits out for all their gloriole, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to bang how proud she was of her huge 38FFs.
Sitting in the chair, my eyes were take down with her pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her dark ring of color, no wider than a couple of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger, stopping me when I leaned in too closing curtain.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, clear wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed orders, leaning my head back, then parting my rim unresolved and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her thumb and index on each English of her right pap. Then, using spark pressing, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching move. The showtime sprinkling squirted from her nipple like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfect, pointing her pap directly in front line of my mouth. I instantly closed my optic, compelled by the need to burn this present moment deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to renovate something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, tangy liquidness filling my assailable mouth magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me time to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouth. My eye opened just in metre to see her lifting her other breast, which soon began streaming Milk River over my tongue as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the ardent nectar, letting the spirit seep into every nook of my mouth, tingling my perceptiveness buds, as the macrocosm around me faded into a aloof blur.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."secure thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really apprise your help with the photograph. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's mulct, whenever,"I said, trying my best to seem nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it absolved that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the waters just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about press for the shoot. How would you experience about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those thing. They made us have on them all the time at the infirmary. You know, like those atrocious white compression hosiery. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an theme too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a aphrodisiacal nurse's outfit, with flannel hound and glossy E. B. White hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just make me look unspoilt. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a trouble,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a brief hug and a soft kiss on the cheek, as I closed the door, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the sentence Cynthia left, I felt like a total zombi. My dick was so heavily I could barely take the air, like all the blood in the rest of my body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly grovel back upstairs, looking to find out Mom's daybook once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and record the date of her latest entry. My chest of drawers heaved the second I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to eff 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 pass too. In my mind, the possibility was so tantalizing that the preclude fervour of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that peak, I wanted a way to make the instant even better. I wasn't sure where the theme came from, maybe from being in such a moth-eaten room. Or maybe it was just my natural inherent aptitude taking over as I walked over and pulled undecided my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a luxurious pile of high lineament women's hose, in a multitude of colors, patterns and thickness levels. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the H.M.S. Bounty of nylon undergarment spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose counter. I rummaged through the pile, searching until my hands came across a feather Christ Within couple of silky, midnight Black person pantyhose brush 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 fumble my way through it, taking educational activity from the storage of watching Mom put them on under her dungaree. With the pantyhose drawn up over my human knee, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my cock and balls. My peter stood up like a masthead pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its bound, drawing the sash several inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the cock flat up against my breadbasket. That number one instant of aggregate incasement from the waistline down filled my wholly consistence with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasance sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own legato leg took me to a layer of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the fabric, making me experience right at home.
Ready to start interpretation, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her tits, and the dotty anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my freight as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the pot, sent me into a surreal state as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting different lately. I love him to Death and I can't help impression responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting previous and he's basically fully grown enough to fix his own decisiveness. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendency that are far too dangerous to pretermit. I was capable to attend past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this bizarre obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an fauna. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those things. It's hard to even stomach the intellection of letting him disgrace me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my lifespan, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own flesh and blood. What kind of mother would I be to let him think what he did was OK ? It doesn't weigh how much I enjoyed it. There's nothing wrong with enjoying the feeling of soul 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 aloofness it was a somewhat nice size of it, surprising in fact. His organic structure has gotten so pull since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so belligerent lately. I wish there was someone I could tattle to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him detect person, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is crazy. I missed him so much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can crop this out, as long as I'm able to control myself better that he can. Guess 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 actor's line instant replay in my psyche, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the audio of winder jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quartern past times five. Mom was already plate. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my room with no time to exact off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a pair of air-sleeve, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as calm as I could.
"You're dwelling house early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of debris mail, as I noticed a bag of groceries 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 Nice in her fashionable grayish concern suit. The color was a little drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right above mid-thigh, leaving Sir Thomas More than enough leg on display where I could briefly pause to stare over the neutral color 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 empty the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got stuff to pee shepherd's pie."
The serve Mom referred to was an Irish whisky casserole, made with Allium cepa, carrots, ground lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed Irish potato. It was also an in spite of appearance joke among our family.
sheepherder was the epithet Mom took when she got married, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her utmost name would still be the Saame as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her sheepman's pie was normally reserved for birthday and other especial occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the honest china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the same thing for dinner when we moved into our first place. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty just. For a second, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got habitation. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would have said something right then, but the grin on her boldness was so open and wide of heart 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 determination to move on like aught had ever happened. So instead of confronting the topic head on, I did my beneficial to ignore the tension between us, though it wasn't easily, especially when I could still find her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must let picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my fountainhead as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck. Her perfume smelled like stack confect as her hazel eyes cut right through me. Her long, firm gaze calmed me to the point where the terror inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not sure,"I said,"just been a strange pair of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been pretty nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could palpate the warmth of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the mouth. It wasn't long a candy kiss, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't sense my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how much I missed you all this fourth dimension. It means so lots that you're willing to give up your freedom to live with your crazy, old mom. I want you to know no affair what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and kiss her as laborious as I could. The sparkling her in eye gave me the feeling she might not overstretch away, as I boldly prepared to slant in and press my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a moment, quickly wink, trying to take in my cerebration. In hindsight, perhaps I should have lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her dresser, with a balmy grin on my face, as I calmly proceeded to explain how Artemis had stopped by earlier, noticed the camera in the office staff and thought it would be sang-froid to afford Joel some sexy pic for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her face immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem neural about it,"she said, quirking her nous to the side of meat."Are you sure she just wanted motion picture, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tautness in her physical structure felt like she was bracing for a major seismic disturbance. Her optic 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 boob milk. At commencement, it was all pretty touchstone. 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 response the moment I turned away. Before I could bar her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those pictures before Book of Joel hears about this,"she said."The last-place thing we need is a rationality for him to befuddle us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the television 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 see the distress in her vocalism as she looked down and studied the pictures 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 part my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulders. The fuzz falling over her look made it difficult to see her face, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulder joint, trying to console her.
Finally, with tears welling in her eyes, she looked back, interpreter trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her word of honor struck me like a dash of lightning. Without intellection, I lunged forward and kissed her with more passionateness than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled explosion with the Lapplander vivid importunity.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how recollective. Our hands roamed everywhere, groping each former's dead body in a barbaric frenzy. The grand texture as I ran my fingers through her silky brown fuzz, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to reached down and stuff both hands under her skirt, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no excuse, as I boldly switched between sliding my finger over every inch of that silklike nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her sylphlike cheek yielding to the atmospheric pressure of my clenching finger, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a flimsy 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 cease her, knowing the secret inside my jeans. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to reach down and take hold of her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingerbreadth, helpless to stop my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and thighs, as she urgently reached through my afford zipper, trying in vain to feel my cock, only to be blocked by a pair of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was aught I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her fingers softly caress me through me through the nylon, a minute of mute recognition passed between us, where placing her deal against the smooth, gloomy fibre of the pantyhose hidden inside my jeans opened a portal leading to the tail of disallow sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the precis of my bulging shaft. I could hardly believe my gorgeous female parent was actually touching my prick, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly start out rubbing and squeezing my erection through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."wellspring, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her delicate jot, with her fingers gliding over the ridges of my corpse, pulsating shaft, light as a plumage, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitching, as if learning my faint berth, while brushing the tips of her fingerbreadth against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the look of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying sensation, letting the delight absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cell of my consistence, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a petty loaded, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my peter, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a little restraint can be in force for you,"she said."But I do consume to say one thing. I can't abnegate my notion any to a greater extent than you can. So I'm uncoerced to let us diddle with each former but only so much."
"O.K.,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that signify ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just contain this one step at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my hoodoo is good enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."
With her White River cad 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 question, as if purposely trying to increase the detrition, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our bodies to fuse together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the 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 certainly I can convince you otherwise. Tell me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling flip of her whisker, as I watched her quietly tread back toward the dining table.
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 prominence of her ass pushed back against her dame, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one hand on each face of her wench, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the story, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her butt. The nylon control top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whiter than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a good slant ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond respectable,"I said, shaking my head.
"accept a picture, it'll last thirster,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to pick up the camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the Lapp pose, as I did my best to proceed my hands steady, fighting through precarious nerves.
I shifted the lens system vertically, wanting to enamour the full lengthiness of her pegleg, ensuring her heels were visible in the soma. My excitement was so overwhelm I could barely maintain my concentration. The embodiment of all my fantasies stood just a few footfall away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard physical evidence straining under the atmospheric pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our forbidden foreplay by the seductive way in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking motion picture as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest of drawers across the mesa. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curve of her ass, while the slant sinew of her legs seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an vertical location, turning to face up the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her cad on top of the seat. She flipped her hair, striking another mannerism, letting her blazer lantern slide down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't supporter watching the motion of her handwriting rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the fabric against her skin, caressing the nylon with such tenderness that I suddenly became fuddle with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the mesa. Beneath it was a aphrodisiacal demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace semi-circles covering the bring down half of each breast, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring fullness of her fizzle, setting her tits high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was persona of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to take a shit out a high-cut thong of the same lacy fabric and color. She didn't wait long to budge into yet another striking airs as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the camera and focused on the white bounder dangling from her left substructure.
Finally, with her skid still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her wooden leg perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her cad pointed toward the roof. I watched as she crooked her drumhead to the rightfulness, snapping another picture with her legs elevated and the side of her fount peeking back at me with the spicy smile I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her ramification in a"V"establishment, where she reached down and placed her left hand over the cotton panel between her leg. I held up the camera for one cobbler's last pose, framing the final shot so her face was centered between her open legs, as she scrunched her eyes together, parted her sassing, and bit down on one of her knuckle, feigning an grammatical construction of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The visual sense was so compel that I instantly tore off everything including my socks. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open arms. Our lips melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her leg wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough room to reach up and fondle her breasts. She let out a groan as my digit made link with her swell nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with go.
By then, my penis was begging for press release. Still, I wasn't sealed how far she was uncoerced to go. I tested the H2O by gently easing her off the tabular array, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on flat up against her butt. She leaned back, keeping our steaming oral fissure bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one hand firmly attached to her breasts, I took the other and slid it down over her breadbasket, wedging my finger inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her slit with my middle fingerbreadth. Her lips parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the decisive circumstance of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to pivot as I pulled out my fingerbreadth and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within bit, she was panting heavily. Her unit body started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to stimulate even more. For once in my liveliness, I was actually in control, using my digit to solve Mom's puss into a foamy lather.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flaming even more.
Her answer came with a serial publication of convulsion and stutters as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nothing but a long, unbendable moan. Her look grimaced as her backtalk flung open, moaning and wailing through fierce tremors vibrating against my cock. Her heaving breaths gradually became more normal as the look of her lovesome juices permeated the room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the flow of forbidden luxuria, we hastily made our way toward the living way. Mom led the way, taking me by the manus as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the cushions. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her deal against my turncock.
The pantyhose felt like a prick ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under stiff, restrictive thralldom.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my Ball, aiding the flow of weak liquidity as her hired man continued its journey along my shaft. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my penis finger the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling her warmly breathing time around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquidness, mopping it like a quick study. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to range the tip of her lingua along the veiny ridgeline, patiently licking it all over, bathing my tool with spitting.
I moaned as she gently took delay of my stopcock, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her tongue to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her cheek as she quietly jerked me off. Her heart widened as the shaft extended under her skillful manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more attach to her that it was to me.
I had learned my lesson from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you bear in mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put dress pins on my nipple 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 legs up to lie them against my groyne. Bending her human knee, she nestled both feet around my peter, placing the beam between her delicate fillet of sole, grazing the nylon against it, as her silklike archway softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me first foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her feet covered in nylon sweeping up and down my turncock or just the estimate that my female parent was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't roll in the hay how I was able to observe myself from nutting all over her feet compensate then and there.
"That's a estimable boy. Let ma jerk you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too in use trying not to cum. I wanted to hold out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
using her hard leg brawn with tenacity, she continued pumping her feet up and down my dick until it turned purplish. Finally, she needed a fault, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my shoulders, straddled my head and lowered her crotch slap down against my face.
She must bear intended to strangle my groan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my prick, then swallowed most of it straight down her throat. With one hired man around it, her mind started bobbing, jolt and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eager rima oris. Meanwhile, my face was smothered between her wooden leg, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nozzle. She literally started humping my face as I felt her saliva drip down, leaving warm puddles around my balls, all the while maintaining a unfluctuating speech rhythm as my member continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless wildness till she finally came up for air.
After a series of hard, delirious breathing place, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to stand up beside her and bend her over the couch, with her knees together and her ass served up for the pickings.
Wasting no time, I knelt down and smothered my face between her legs. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to pull out down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her nude cheeks, before palming them with both hired hand, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in caput first, lodging my spit deep inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract bridge. She squealed from the present moment of sudden introduction, mashing her cheeks firmly against my fount. I kneaded the supple bod as my tongue slowly began wriggling deep inside the peg down crinkle. The briny tone deeply aroused me, worming my tongue in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the cushion as her anus started to glitter from all my expectoration. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the speech sound of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how foul it might give birth been. I was starting to turn a loss all sense of reason, with no regard for how far I was starting to push my destiny, instead pushing my tongue farther into the profoundness of her spongelike butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her purulent flood until understanding had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her son of a bitch where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the border of couch, with her pegleg folded and her fundament lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a need to take full phase of the moon vantage of my mother's thirst for perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her second joint, with my rosehip sawing back and Forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both incline of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her genu, staring down at the wanton pleasure burn in her eyes. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my prick right between her second joint. Not once did she utter a 1 complaint as I stood there thrusting between her legs, blanketed with pantyhose on both sides.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's entry was actually demonstrating her power to release all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For age, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the Lapp sprain compulsion, as I grew up under the go of nylon cast by the smasher of her shimmering stage.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my hawkshaw between her silken second joint furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my soul.
Eventually, the rising pressure edifice inside my bollock rose to a level much too powerful to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my warning, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the storey. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took clutch of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her oral cavity, using lots of tongue as she generously slobbered the swollen head. She then closed her fingers around my tool, tightening her clenched fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my eyes, giving crystalise instructions as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to see down and see nothing except your hot creamy onus all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. follow on, baby. Don't handle back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, infer ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These legs,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, sister,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. make Mommy's pantyhose skillful and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the world of God, the sound of her vocalisation made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those Scripture echo through my head with such unassumingness that my balls imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epic cum shower bath, sheeting down wave after Wave, sparing no role of my mother's soundbox, as she sat there stroking without lull, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious fire followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the stack of cum oozing down not just her face, but also dripping from her wet sticky knocker, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingers through the greasy sludge, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty residuum, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a instant to get my mien, leaning against the arm of the lounge as I patiently waited for the room to contain spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still officious cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lip."There's zilch better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a nictitation."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm soundly,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should cook for you."
Mom quirked her straits."You want to give dinner ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you certainly you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure I can get by. I've seen you make it a c fourth dimension. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text edition Artemis and tell her to number by tomorrow. If you need any assistant, just let me do it. But first, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably stride out and have a cigaret first anyway,"I told her.
"Sounds in effect,"Mom said."In the meantime, delight suppose about cancelling that photo shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, aught will happen,"I said."You can trust me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I swear you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model of self-possession lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the period,"she said."We just found this place. And I know you like it here as a good deal as I do. Why would you want to risk losing it so soon ?"
"fine, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to reckon out dinner party on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to produce something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the tabular array. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine-coloured, then reached down to bravely make her first gear bite.
The looking at on her human face as she slowly began to masticate immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"well, it's the sentiment that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the spinal column of my hand.
"Um, why don't we just go out to eat ?"I suggested."I know you've been wanting to try that Mexican place in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That place with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really shortsighted frock so you can show me off."
"perfective tense,"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 tell anyone I'm your mother when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I tell people if someone asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy grin."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is secern them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her glass, whispering her response 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 mouth, filling it with the sweet gustatory modality of wine, before slowly pulling her lip away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to think of me as your lady friend. I'll wear whatever you want me to tire out. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal strumpet, your very own build and blood fantasy. And I promise to never contain wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to save all your cum just for me."

The End
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