Shepherd's Pie
By land Angel

It all started when I was 10 years old, the year my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to have his compulsion with Grand Theft motorcar blindsided by his first jam.
I had just started Junior heights, where they made us read boring clobber like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too untried to infer the danger of interdict lustfulness, yet old enough to notice how my female parent would often do the sexiest matter without knowing it.
Things might have been dissimilar had my mother been more willing to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her hound everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my free clip with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more rummy tendencies.
She had an blanket horseshoe collection, most of which were heights dog. She loved wearing heel so often 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 home, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drunkenness anything without a straw. If she was sitting at home grading document, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football game every Sunday, though she knew almost naught about sports. She just enjoyed wearing her fitted jersey and a pair of tights, rooting for whichever team had the cutest quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would incline down, pout her lip together and gently blow until it was gone. The intuitive feeling excited me so much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished high schoolhouse, I was so used to being by my mother's face that leaving for college less than an hour away filled me with highly merge emotions due to all the awful storage left behind.
By my tertiary year at Ralph Waldo Emerson, the novelty of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each loss day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no young lady and only a few male friends to help vote down the tedium.
One drab good afternoon, my female parent called me completely out of the blue, with the extremist idea of finding a new flat for us to exist together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with long, flowing, chestnut browned fuzz, hazel eyes, monotonic cheeks and tight fitting mouth set between her oval mentum and the downwardly tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her aura days of heights school gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophy, mostly for balance ray. Still, she kept her body in marvelous shape, wearing trendy turnout that proudly displayed her pert breasts, tight ass, and expert of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my female parent was the live woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a full blown obsession. I tried my best to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to vex that I seemed to have no interest in other girls.
I had just started college two eld earlier, so the idea of moving back in with my female parent initially felt like a stair backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a humble, squat apartment. My roommate was a total slob. Yet, in nastiness 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 spend my junior class getting hammered every Night and screwing as many co-eds as possible. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the same scrawny kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and take a shit embarrassing jokes around lady friend 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 pet pictures of her on my cell telephone set. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum firm than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as retentive as I could remember I had always been captivated by my mother's stage. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up case planning to teach marketing at a nearby residential district college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their skirt. By that fourth dimension, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many years. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this staple element of her casual business attire distinctly brought out the noteworthy beauty and dimension of her retentive, sinuous wooden leg.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that prison term, I became so fixated on my female parent's legs that I started to query why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first plaza. As unflawed as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic effect immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this average undergarment was imbued with extraordinary powers luring my eye to linger over the slender tonus of her slant, slender calves, moving up to the meaty chassis of her firm sculpted thighs, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her hips, topped by a set of delectable round of golf asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering thread of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very first time that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an pressing impulse to look down and gaze over the dazzling gloriole emanating from her legs. From the bottom of all her dead skirts, down to the tips of her toes, each span she wore had the magnate to enthrall me with its own seductive glitter.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at domicile waiting for her to walk in and kick off her sexy dog. My dreamy eyes followed as she tiptoed around the household, lost in the fond glow of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the Thomas More I became desperate to feed 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 extract out my photographic camera and get her to dumbfound for me out in public. She'd always been the type of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing pursuit in photography. Eventually, I managed to roll up XII of pictures, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous legs. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to mention being her son.
My favorite pictures for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before teaching, working in embodied America had given her many years to educate this particular skill. As a trained master, she was far too elegant to take one leg and carelessly fall through it over the other.
Instead, with her fountainhead up and her perky boob pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, sweep her bridge player under her skirt, then with full extension, thumb out one leg, flexing the tip of her skid, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky stem, the boozer contour visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her crushed thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motility, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously unadulterated alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my dick throb hearing that subtle swish.
oceanic abyss down, I knew it was wrong. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the hottest cleaning woman on Earth. Her voice alone sent chills down my spine, with the double-dyed verbiage and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident pedagog, with only the slightest tracing of a typical New England accent.
Despite being over XL, her nutrient diet and friendly demeanor gave her a young glow. She barely ate Sir Thomas More than two sharpness of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every morning time. While it was clearly a positive thing, her goodish lifestyle only encouraged my physical attraction to stay on building and turn more powerful each day.
Her bra size was an middling 34-B. Yet, her modest pectus proudly stood out in contrast with her petite waistline, jutting from the flimsy material of her compressed blouses and low-necked tops.
Despite being a hard-working ace mom, I had to imagine she still had needs. Yet, to my limited knowledge, after the divorce, she had no men in her life. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much time worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had time to date. She should have had fling lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own forbidden infatuation and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eagre to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell number flashed up across the screen. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her better pictures, taken in metre second power. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a fateful miniskirt, nigrify pumps, and a beaming pair of tan pantyhose gleaming in wide daylight.
I snapped the picture just as Mom walked over to pose next to a marvelous New House of York streetlight. It was like she could understand my idea as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her side was only half visible under her long hair's-breadth, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her left knee behind her backbone. She stood there holding the pose for several secondment, with one shoe playfully lifted off the earth and a grin on her face as bright as the pantyhose on her wooden leg.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the phone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to detect the noisy jangle of belt, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something significant I need to ask you."
There was something pressing in her voice 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 pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my last slip place. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't posting if I only took one. My pecker was already throbbing. All I could think about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hired man, then taking my silky fingers and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the Thomas More she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two months,"she said."I just got a letter that my rent is increasing by almost 200 clam. There's no way I can yield 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 look if I moved up to Boston."
At that particular moment, I probably should take been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so beneficial around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without mentation, just for the chance to be up close and personal with her amazing pegleg again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not sure what else I can do."
Again, my nous 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 lounge,"she said."I'm on my lunch break. Why ?"
"No intellect,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the picture of her sitting there with her peg crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one shoe off her metrical 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 make things easier ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the material grounds why I called. I know how you feel about your roomy. And I've never been crazy about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a decent spot for the two of us."
It took me another moment to answer. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the liquid velvety grain of the nylon. My hose-covered finger's breadth were gently grazing up and down the length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely condense. I was too busy wondering what her unfreeze helping hand was doing as she sat there with one helping hand holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her finger's breadth over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many metre at home ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to recognise for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's lounge, in full phase of the moon persuasion of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always find work at another campus. Plus we can find a place with more quad for your television camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a sentiment, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to give inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her cordiform ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to mouth to Jimmy about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail bond on my roommate, even if our lease was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some ground rule,"I added, when I started to realize the freedoms I'd be giving up purely to see her ramification every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to throw the normal now, huh ? okey. Like what ?"
"Nothing John Major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure enough we'll respect each other's secrecy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing hombre home or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your Father. You won't have to occupy about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was tight, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more fragile clash to my teasing hired hand virgule.
"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 outer space to smoke weed and turn with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the pornography you have on your estimator ? You're my son, Chris. There's nothing you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the perdition,"I said, voicing my infliction."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her Scripture 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 horse sense that you'd rather sit at home base surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of real cleaning woman out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Saviour, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering timbre that made me a wee bit nervous."I never knew you had such a thing for older woman,"she continued."Maybe I should introduce you to some of the instructor here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the cerebration of her checking my computer behind my book binding, by then my head was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the matter to something more stimulating."Did you like the new skid I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a second, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The raising in her representative told me she was smiling on the former end.
"You must take in been reading my psyche,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but compliment all day. It was nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"poise,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon River."I can't wait to see how they look."
"Well, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at property in the daybreak. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to add up,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might desire to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be mulct,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my blue jean. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a distich,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jeans,"I repeated, resisting the urge to groan."I guess that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not occupy in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute of arc or so before I exploded all over my hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just score sure you tell jemmy to endure some pants this fourth dimension. It's a little awkward seeing your roomie with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a ogre."But then again, you can't really blame him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was convention length. The wench I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"fountainhead that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you save your students from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's form of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"Stop it, Mom. You look peachy. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other woman. We all like to hear it."
"Well, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your mother, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal instant. In 19 years, my mother had never asked me a question as directly sexual as that. My nut were practically about to burst. My clenched fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my abnormal desire to run my hands over her gentle silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy stage. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an resolution intended to hide my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my frontal bone."This is starting to take a uncanny turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, tell me,"she added, with a hardiness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the Lapp time."Seriously, I want to screw,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive bam."Do you consider I'm a MILF…like the unity you look at on those filthy websites ?"
My consistency trembled. I honestly couldn't tell whether she wanted the Truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, layover,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"Okay, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to name you uncomfortable. Just tell me one thing. Which region of a woman's body do you like most ? Wait, let me imagine, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My best option was to labor back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we drop off it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't stop there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so gruelling if she hadn't already gathered the State Department I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, barricade it. I can't consume this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes horse sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this whole idea. It's bad enough you can't ascertain a girlfriend. I'd hatred to do anything that makes you finger even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the last clock time,"I said, starting to lose it."If I really wanted a girl, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one invertebrate foot in the grave ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose juju I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the metre. I certainly don't want you having sexual thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to say you how out or keeping that would be."
Of row she didn't. I'd known all along how inappropriate it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't care. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a vengeance, bent-grass on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to soak every thread with a monolithic wad of thick greasy spunk, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible retentiveness that triggered my fetish in the get-go place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the home wearing see-through pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from work in her opprobrious fuck-me pumps, the cold odor of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swollen metrical unit. I could even project the way she smiled as she walked down the street, rosehip switching from incline to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the sound of her transfix heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to come home, peel off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, skid my glossa over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her firm, musky scent.
My lurid memories pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spurt, I was forced to choke my urge to moan, watching super C of ejaculate blast into the air, surging from the head of my hammer, 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 consortium of cum.
Finally, I managed to garner myself, leading with a overweight sigh.
"smell Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be good. I wasn't trying to swage you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her quality."Don't hang up. I know you were just being reliable. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important decisiveness, I think you should tell me everything. distinguish me the trueness, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one hand, by saying no, she'd most in all likelihood sense that I was lying, which would only make her angry and potentially scotch any luck of us moving back in together. On the other hand, telling the truth would most likely freak her out so a great deal that she might not speak to me again for month, and that was even worse.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the firstly 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 answer her question was to turn it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be fair,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to airt."But first base I'd like to discover what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a unretentive breathing time."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your read/write head. I think if we're going to live on together, then you have to promise to find a lady friend and start livelihood in the real macrocosm. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"commodity,"she said."I'll see you in the dawn. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next sunup, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, calamitous, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver necklace which failed to keep me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her launch neckline. Her blue skinny jeans sat low on her shapely hip joint, hugging every curve under skin-tight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, black leather sandals, with sparse strap spanning over her naked understructure.
Looking down at the cuff of her blue jean, the first thing I noticed was the disturbing absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my unhurt night tossing and turn in expectation of seeing them the next morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how concerned she was talking about my fetish. So the finale thing I wanted to do was call any inordinate attention to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a affectionate hug, when my roommate, jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The smile on his side told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshake. For a few minutes, she and Jimmy stood there making pocket-sized public lecture, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could mouth to me in my room.
I led her back to my bedchamber and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her in conclusion pair of pantyhose with a sheer dog and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the yoke I'd taken from her chest of drawers. So I promptly fished them from the batch of washing thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give her a present moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must have been hurrying too lots to take in that I'd purposely left the doorway slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the minute crack, knowing it was wrong, yet still unable to tear my eyes from watching her undress.
With her back turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one skid at a time, enjoying the lovely sight of denim smothering her tight beat butt. I then heard the audio as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her custody went up to her English. She hooked her thumbs into the narrow sash and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips side to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a G-string, resisting the impulse to pant as she peeled down the jean, revealing her naked ass. My dick instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the shank, presenting me with a take in horizon of her outer pussy 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 estimable 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 finger, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her quick digit rolled up the low leg. She then lifted her left foot, then reached down and slid the anchor ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slue the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee joint. She set down her left metrical foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her mighty foot inside the contrary sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her stifle, drawing the nylon inch by in over her lithesome thighs, and finally squirming to squash her shapely hips under the overrefinement waistband, making one final adjustment to line up the stitching along her constrict butt crack, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a wonderful layer of tan, sheeny, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could have stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to chuck up the sponge while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the animation room to find Jimmy rolling a joint, which I'd come to look as division of his morn routine. The dark before, he and I had sat down for a long 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 move in with his lady friend in a few weeks anyway. Fortunately, there were no voiceless feelings between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roommate was soon to be.
bit later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her fairly feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her horizon. We left my apartment and set out to find oneself our new place, quickly escaping so Mom could nullify jimmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the steering wheel and turned on the topical anaesthetic eighties place. The song on the radio receiver thankfully managed to calm down my erection as I route beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic language.
"Every piffling thing she does is a magic. Everything she do just move around me on…"
We then proceeded to expend the next couple of hour going from one ugly, over-priced flat to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second level walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The star sign was owned by a immature, newlywed couple named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the 1st base. Book of Joel was a successful contractor in the city. Artemis was a early nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given giving birth to their first nipper. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the size of her tremendous tits which seemed to account for nearly half her body exercising weight, especially considering how brusk she was. If I had to guess, I would have said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big pap !"
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 champion when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the same high school as my mother, only eight class later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our heart. The place had literally everything we wanted, high ceiling, hardwood floors, with heaps of space, including a large eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and support room area, divided by sliding double door. On the right was a minor office, a small client bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a pocket-size memory space, with a door to the indorse porch, and stairs leading up to the bonce. The attic had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two sleeping room, and a large master bath.
Mom and I signed the lease in a matter of days, agreeing to actuate in by October 1st.
The motility itself went fairly tranquil. Mom hired moving company to care all the big furniture. Then, on Sun the thirtieth, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hours. Sometime around noon, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no intellectual nourishment. I offered to start unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and take off removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old record and picture 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 page.
The first of all entering was dated Nov 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The first few entranceway weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old selling business firm she'd worked at during her marriage. She'd already completed her teaching enfranchisement and put in her two-weeks notice. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was individual to a greater extent traditional and slavish. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did appear much happier with his new prize wife. So there really was aught else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when things started to clean up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something looney happened today. I made out with microphone Ed Sullivan in the stairwell over by his government agency. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 years younger than me. Plus he's so wide-cut of himself, really not my type. He hasn't plosive consonant toying with me ever since he heard I was back on the market place, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to encourage him. It wasn't my decision to move the copier outside his office. I love how he always comes over and strike down his pen on the floor. It used to throw me uncomfortable, but now I just play along. At commencement, he would drop down it and break up it right back up. Now he likes to lurk down there and stare at my leg for a while. It's pretty queer to keep an eye on. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the Lapplander matter. He must really like my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The last thing I want to do is blockade him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about Mike. Eugene Curran Kelly and Robin are throwing a goodbye party for me tomorrow nighttime. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could say he liked it too. His dick got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the fair sex in the berth. 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 political party dress and that son of a bitch didn't even demo up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were mass of former guys there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra mark. Maybe I'll wear it again side by side week. It was form of odd being the center of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know Turdus migratorius was pretty envious. I told her to stop buying me shots. Besides, no one puts stripper perch in a bar good of drunken adult female expecting cypher to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussy for everyone. I did break pantyhose. I'm sure as shooting microphone would take loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't discontinue thinking about his cock. I really need to get make out. I should probably induct in a estimable vibrator. I would let bought one calendar month ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find it. He's always sneaking into my room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my panty drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to she-bop by now. The last thing I want to find is a vast cum smear on one of my satin G-string. I guess at some compass point I'll have a talk with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really care his don were here…
I would have 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 misrepresented view scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to revel getting attention from younger men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a fornicatress really got me excited. I stepped out onto the spinal column porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to cool off myself down.
The view from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the curtain were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the corner of the room, I spotted an void rocking chair, next to what looked like the rail on a baby's pony. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the baby in her blazonry. Even from such a high angle, it was virtually unacceptable to reckon down and see anything other than her thumping knocker. The image reminded me of those IMAX movies where they show you the Earth from space and you can still see the Himalaya Mountains only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't aid grinning at the lite blue clitoris up sweater she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another pull of my Marlboro luminance, watching as she sat down, only to pant in incredulity when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already ruttish as shtup, as I watched Artemis accomplish up and unsnap her bra from the front man, letting her left tit flop through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her sister's mouthpiece over her swell nipple. My unit sprightliness I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth River. I've always preferred legs, but there was no denying the beauty of Cynthia's phenomenal jugs. The sizing of her tit reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dough until it rose into diffuse, round, flesh-colored mounds. The longer I watched, the more I found myself jealous of her little boy and the blissful look on his boldness as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my gumshoe 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 short, heather mixture grayness, New England patriot T-shirt, with black spandex yoga pants, and a pair of Brown fur-lined iron heel. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no war paint, yet I still wanted to twist her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get lots done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's exquisitely. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"goodness 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 fanny, while Mom leaned against the return and started to eat.
After one sharpness, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her legs stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't chosen that accurate moment to set her ass on top of my seawall. The frown on her face instantly told me she could finger how hard I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this tortured aspect on her fount like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this coldness, distant look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the sound call over again. Only this time, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the suaveness of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my turncock.
Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety tights, not swerve like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the touching. On the plus side, the cloth was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her arms in front of her.
"Maybe you should tell me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to confront her, I lifted my sweaty palms and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her head."looking at, I understand that you're Danton True 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 easy. It takes time."
"O.K., maybe you're mighty,"she said."So in the lag, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just receive to plow with it on my own."
"mulct,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the consistent matter to do in that berth would feature probably been to stand up and go to my way. Instead of doing that, I chose to establish igniter of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was uncoerced to have a sentience of humor about the all thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just strap it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her brain back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow slits of her middle.
"You haven't got the lump to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a punch in the gut. My hale adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been good at sports. In schooling, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in stratum. missy pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too chicken to fight back. I'd been putting up with bullies for as farseeing 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 zip fastener, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"Okay, time out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your trouser, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a mild laughter and an obvious smirk on her expression."So you just carry me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is normal ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her nous to her bureau, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a brief moment, she slowly raised her pass up, responding with a brusque nod, as she quietly answered."mulct, 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 cite this again."
Admittedly, it would have been easy to stop rightfield there. I could receive easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigaret, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoking carriage and she'd obviously chosen to cut her own principle about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a quad for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my tool harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of smoke."You're prosperous I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a instant, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in hand, as she marched back over toward the riposte. She flicked her butt, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a small plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the death chair where I was sitting. bottle in bridge player, she leaned over the head of my hammer, squirting out a generous glob of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"Will that help ?"she said, with a grin on her aspect which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glint from all incline, enabling me to enjoy the smell of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my rigid barb, as I sat in figurehead of her and boldly continued to buck off.
I sat there hoping she would study my technique, imagining one day to experience her hand instead of my own. The look on her face lacked any form of expression, as if to prevent me from noticing any signboard of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really travel rapidly this up,"she said, dropping her manus to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to agitate this even further."You could sprain around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and show you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I look at your ass ?'”
hearing her sexy, commanding interpreter, with its air of implicit power, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I look at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out less than three inches from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."William Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so skilful,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."
My sass watered at the sight of her dark leggings stretched taut over the curve of her firm shapely rump. She kept her foot together, accentuating the slope where the pocket-size of her backrest arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight fabric, so amazingly round and full, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm gladiola you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a piffling further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. realise ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my hint."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to brook up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my female parent to become around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index finger, directing me to stand in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her human knee down on the wooden arse, keeping her stage together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her compressed glutes,"right here, all over your female parent's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then record me,"she said."display me how horny you are right now. Let me feel it. Let me feel that hot burden all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the strait of her vox nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my female parent was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to twitch off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga bloomers ?
I should have accepted it for the exclusive right that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my dick peck up against her butt, a forceful collision softened by the leggings and the meaty human body underneath, the perfect shock absorber for my throbbing penis to grind against her smooth, velvety rump.
She let out a terrorize screaming, as I grabbed her by the waistline, ignoring her song protest as I violently started thrusting my pelvic girdle back and forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to check, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in riposte. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my peter. Her voice was raspy and out of breathing place, with her head forward, hair swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so severe. Oh my God, don't stay. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me palpate your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an sexual climax quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk come gushing out of my cock like a broken water main. The force-out of each muscle spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my branch gave out. My expression was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering whiz of her indulgent cheek pressed up against my dick milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching balls.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the black legging scatter over Mom's ass were completely coated under a compact layer of whitened creamy foam, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the scissure of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the fissure of her moist pussy.
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 change,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained silence. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good mind,"she said, slowly rising to her human foot."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the next ten minute, okay ?"
* * *
For the residual of that good afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only take up she needed as much sentence to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the sleep of the day quietly arranging article of furniture and unpacking most of our things. Mom spent well-nigh of her clock time in the kitchen, while I worked in the bread and butter room hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza for dinner party. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to foregather some friends from school who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The succeeding morning time, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty firm. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely enough time to seize a quick shower, throw on some clothes and race off to get to my sunup year. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to occupy that my foolish legal action had managed to break everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a bill with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to grade, the fear of Mom telling me to travel out made it virtually impossible to sharpen on anything else. I stared off into blank space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought of going home, sealed of what was destined to fare.
My final exam course of study ended at midday. Fortunately, before moving out, jemmy had kindly given me two snow leopard of blue air Dream. So I figured the best affair to do was go plate, smoke a bowl and have a couple beers, just to fix myself for the foul mood my female parent was certainly to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the family, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the Sami 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 passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was variety of scared at foremost, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a scene. He was well dressed for a vernal guy with a nice business sector suit like he could have been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee tree so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many mesa as I took my seat, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly finger him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could have got up and institute another tooshie, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and keep back my leg crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take the mite and go away. He must make thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a here and now, I was expecting him to take the air over and say something. But the longer he waited, the Sir Thomas More I realized how nervous he was to border on me. I was kind of insult, but then I figured if all he wanted was a display then why not apply him one just to fuck with his principal. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee tree, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them outdoors to designate him the 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 open for a second, letting him see up my dame. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the heart to follow me down to the brake shoe store.
I'd found a great deal on a blacken pair of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a overnice shiny finale. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my black flip-flop, but most of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some convolute keep me from buying skid. So I sat there on the terrace thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my legs exposed and my skirt up around hips, working my feet into the place. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play innocent with his back turned. At that peak, I probably should cause confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the way out and turned around to see if he was still behind me. certainly enough, he walked out with a grinning on his face like he hadn't done anything incorrect. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful ramification. I asked if he got off peeking up women's wench. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a kitty or maybe he could induce seen more. He offered to take me out for a crapulence to see if he could switch my popular opinion. He looked a little angry when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly unwrap my blouse, then told him to consider out his tool. He looked around for a secondly. Then he stepped over to the windowpane and nervously pulled his gumshoe out. I spit in my thenar, taking his cock in one hand, while using the other to slowly perpetrate up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the former to stroke his cock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to moan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my ramification and instantly started to cum as I watched his onus rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my doll, started the car and drove off without a 1 word…
The enactment ended there, but the rousing effect lingered in my vivid imagination longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without dubiousness my first realize grounds that the women who raised me and handed down all of my morals was will to engage in extreme, high-risk, sexual demeanour with seemingly any young man with a prick. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and touch of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my mother's dreary side, determined to see how far she was willing to go to satisfy her deepest sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the lounge, 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 step coming up the stair. I slowly stood up, shaking the gossamer from my capitulum, as I walked toward the sound of person knocking on the threshold.
Recalling my mother's Federal Reserve note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his tool swath. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced United States Department of State, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melon spilling out of a bright orangeness satin nightie.
"goodness morning,"she said, over a deep yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled tone, as I glanced down at her fuzzy pink slippers."Actually, it's good afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no job. I was actually expecting your hubby. But that's cool. Come on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Book of Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a twist myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to sharpen on her case."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alarm system, radiator, bathroom sink, and one of the light switches in the attic."
"No trouble,"she said."smoke alarm probably needs a new bombardment. If the light switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Artemis had short-circuit blonde hair, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the leftfield, creating a adorable systema skeletale for the voluminousness of her one shot, chubby typeface. Knowing how vital some women are, she might have described herself as overweight. In my opinion, the spear carrier baby exercising weight just made her look more voluptuous. Her hips were fairly wide, yet her stomach was still pretty categoric, with a pair of incredibly huge knockers, giving her a sodding hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a little under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no civilised way to prevent myself from staring down at her giant hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Artemis's tits reminded me of those heavy bags down at the gym, two of them, incline to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonders for her nipple too, swelling and poking out like thimble through the orange satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half naked, I did my best to relieve her common sense of urging, hoping not to stymie her.
"You could ingest waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave workplace until five or six. She's more sensitive to the cold than I am. My old apartment was much worse. Not to mention, we trust you."
"wellspring, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our maiden renter since we bought this place…hate to start off on the awry foundation,"she added."The radiator seems fine, must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new she-goat and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"sound good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and jibe out the sinkhole too. I just need to put on some actual clothes."
"No spate, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to wear a little more succeeding time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightie had helplessly slipped down."I know the fille can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the shoulder strap, a useless try to cover up, making her chest center jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to prevent my orb inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in front of the office, pointing to the tv camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the lensman ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that dear, but it's always been a Falco subbuteo. When I was vernal, I had this dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like athletics 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 expressive style. 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, bourgeois, 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 miss I knew back in high gear shoal, the ones who'd been spoiled since parentage and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy tendency, suitable in this case considering her plentiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."next month is our moment anniversary. I wasn't sure what to get Book of Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really revel some dainty bewitch 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 spread out she was about her marriage. Still, I couldn't ignore the insidious dalliance of this despairing lady of the house or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pant.
"Umm, for certain, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and bring some test shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no clip stepping into the role, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to peel down the right strap of her nightdress, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the flash,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the moment the photographic camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so a lot confidence in front of the genus Lens. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering vamper, with two perfectly pouting back talk and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stir effect of her muggy blue eyes. Yet, the sultry expression on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely make me for the present moment she crossed her implements of war together, thrusting her nipple toward the camera like treble airbags, completely filling up the anatomy with more cleavage than my nous could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various affectation, 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 room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need lots instruction as she stretched out, extending her peg, with her drumhead tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the ceiling.
"Mind if I ask you a personal query,"I asked, as she shifted over to her leave behind position, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"fountainhead, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be small-scale before I got fraught. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they spite your dorsum ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to take the air with two gallon of milk strapped to your breast. It sort of flavour like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."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, Thomas More nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My breast Milk River ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than regular milk. I try to eat scores of fruit to make it sweeter. Otherwise, it's variety of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these icon and see which angles study best. Let me know when you have clip for a full photo shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrongfulness ?"I asked."If you need time to imagine about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The composure in her interpreter combined with her floor gaze gave me a giddy feeling 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 savor her knocker milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my number one impulse was to swallow up my cheek between her chest and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial jounce prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a slight curious.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her rightfield hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her give shoulder joint strap. Sweat beads formed across my hilltop as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the former. My centre concentrated mainly on the orangeness satin covering her monumental breast, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her men to patiently relieve down the glossy framework. Finally, with a swelling in my throat, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull up out her tremendous jugful.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't bottom how a char so humble could end up with tits that big. Each one was larger than my point and must have got weighed at to the lowest degree ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the size and chassis of these two gigantic world, hovering inches from my facial expression. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with stretch gull along both side of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Artemis's titmouse were far too heavy to escape the effects of soberness, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue paper really started to jiggle.
acerate leaf to say, I was totally stunned as Artemis pulled her tits out for all their glory, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to know how proud she was of her immense 38FFs.
Sitting in the chair, my heart were level with her pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised aerofoil of her coloured areola, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her round-backed fingerbreadth, stopping me when I leaned in too close up.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, surface wide of the mark, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed orders, leaning my head back, then parting my sass open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her thumb and forefinger on each incline of her right wing nipple. Then, using illumination pressing, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The first sprinkle squirted from her mamilla like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfective, pointing her nipple directly in straw man of my mouth. I instantly closed my heart, compelled by the need to burn this instant deep into my storage forever. The flavor seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious. The sweetness, tart liquid filling my open oral cavity magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me time to relish the creamy droplets lingering inside my oral cavity. My centre opened just in time to see her lifting her other white meat, which soon began streaming Milk River over my tongue as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my natural language through the warm nectar, letting the relish seep into every corner of my lip, tingling my taste buds, as the reality around me faded into a removed blur.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."serious affair I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's odorous,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really apprize your help with the pictures. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my best to seem insouciant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the body of water just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you find about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us jade them all the time at the infirmary. You know, like those ugly white compression hose. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter bang ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nursemaid's outfit, with livid heels and glossy blanched hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just make me look commodity. 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 time Cynthia left, I felt like a total zombi. My prick was so voiceless I could barely take the air, like all the blood in the eternal rest of my body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitalia. I desperately needed some type of press release, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to encounter Mom's journal once again.
This prison term I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's elbow room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the daybook and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the date of her latest launching. My bureau heaved the present moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut feeling that something inside her wanted it to go on too. In my mind, the possible action was so tantalizing that the nix excitement of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that detail, I wanted a way to make the moment even better. I wasn't sure where the melodic theme came from, maybe from being in such a frigid elbow room. Or maybe it was just my natural instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled surface my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a voluptuary pile of mellow character woman's hosiery, in a mass of colors, pattern and thickness levels. I studied the stilt, breathing heavily over the bounteousness of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose counter. I rummaged through the pile, searching until my men came across a feather light pair of silky, midnight opprobrious pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my jeans and underclothes, before nervously sitting down to exercise out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking book of instructions from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her blue jean. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to ferment out stretching the nylon over my cock and balls. My dick stood up like a iris magnetic pole as I stretched the ticklish threading to its limitation, drawing the waistband various inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my stomach. That first gear moment of sum encasement from the waist down filled my whole body with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the joy sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own shine legs took me to a level of exhilaration I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my phallus beneath the framework, making me sense right at home.
Ready to take off reading, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her tits, and the crazy 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 strength running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the weed, sent me into a dreamlike Department of State as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting unlike lately. I love him to death and I can't help feeling responsible for for what happened today. I know he's getting older and he's basically grown enough to make his own decisiveness. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendencies that are far too dangerous to look out over. I was able to expect past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even dismiss all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this flaky obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animal. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those affair. It's hard to even stomach the intellection of letting him cheapen me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty affair in my life sentence, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own bod and blood. What sort of mother would I be to let him reckon what he did was okay ? It doesn't matter how much I enjoyed it. There's cipher wrong with enjoying the feeling of someone finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the trust to rip it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a somewhat decent size, surprising in fact. His dead body has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so fast-growing lately. I wish there was individual I could spill the beans to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him obtain someone, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is brainsick. I missed him so a good deal and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work this out, as long as I'm able to contain myself upright that he can. judge we'll just deliver to wait and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the daybook and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and keep out my eyes, letting her words action replay in my top dog, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of keys jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter preceding five. Mom was already home base. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my way with no fourth dimension to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a pair of socks, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as steady as I could.
"You're domicile early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of junk mail, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning expression forward with a immediate smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish greyish business suit. The color was a little drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off redress above mid-thigh, leaving more than than enough leg on display where I could briefly pause to gaze over the neutral color of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her lily-white leather heart.
"Sorry, probably smoked too much,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner ?"
"well,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to vacate the bag."Since it's our foremost official home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got hooey to make shepherd's pie."
The dish Mom referred to was an Irish whiskey casserole, made with onion plant, cultivated carrot, ground lamb or beef, topped by a bed of creamy mashed potatoes. It was also an inside joke among our family.
Shepherd was the public figure Mom took when she got espouse, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her stopping point name would still be the same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and other special occasions.
"aplomb,"I said."Shall I break out the good china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your founding father and I had the like thing for dinner when we moved into our number one post. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should work it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty good. For a moment, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly turnover when she got home base. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to shed light on the air and would sustain said something right then, but the grin on her facial expression was so open and good of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the way. In that bit, I could only presume that Mom had made the decision to move on like nada had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter head on, I did my best to ignore the tautness between us, though it wasn't easygoing, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must throw picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my straits as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arm around my neck. Her perfume smelled like mint candy as her hazel eyes cut decent through me. Her longsighted, steady regard calmed me to the point where the panic inside me gradually started to wither away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not for sure,"I said,"just been a foreign couplet of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been middling nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close sufficiency where I could feel the warmth of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the rim. It wasn't long a osculation, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't feel my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how very much I missed you all this time. It means so practically that you're bequeath to give up your freedom to live with your nutcase, old mom. I want you to sleep with 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 spark her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and compress 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 eye blink, trying to collect my thinking. In hindsight, perhaps I should have lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a meek grin on my brass, as I calmly proceeded to explain how Artemis had stopped by in the beginning, noticed the camera in the office and thought it would be cool to give Joel some sexy pic for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her grimace immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem aflutter about it,"she said, quirking her question to the side."Are you sure she just wanted pictures, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tensity in her body felt like she was bracing for a major shock. Her eyes stared intently as she quietly held her breath.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the child,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the topic of knocker milk. At first, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my answer the instant I turned away. Before I could intercept 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 matter we need is a reason for him to hold us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the photographic camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the pictures one at a time.
I could see the hurt in her vocalisation as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's nada,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a keep. It's just a way to pop out my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulder joint. The fuzz falling over her cheek made it hard to see her formulation, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her.
Finally, with tears welling in her centre, she looked back, voice palpitation as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning of lightning. Without mentation, I lunged forward and kissed her with more mania than a soldier returning from war. Her back talk parted, surprisingly accepting my spit, returning my lust-filled explosion with the same vivid urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how long. Our hands roamed everywhere, groping each other's trunk in a hazardous frenzy. The wonderful texture as I ran my fingers through her slick Brown fuzz, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to accomplish down and jostle both hands under her skirt, running my bridge player over her skintight pantyhose with no excuse, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingerbreadth over every column inch of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple impudence yielding to the pressure of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy prat through a slight level 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 quit her, knowing the hole-and-corner inside my dungaree. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to reach down and catch her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to contain my hand from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and thigh, as she urgently reached through my open 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 zip I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her fingers softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of silent realization passed between us, where placing her hand against the smooth, blue fibre of the pantyhose hide inside my dungaree opened a portal leading to the phantasm of forbidden sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the outline of my bulging slam. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my pecker, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly get down 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."fountainhead, how does it finger ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her finespun feeling, with her fingerbreadth gliding over the ridgeline of my stiff, pulsating prick, visible radiation as a feather, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak spots, while brushing the tips of her fingers against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the feeling of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying maven, letting the delight absorb through my privates, spreading through every cellphone of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little slopped, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching clod. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a fiddling constraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do have to say one thing. I can't deny my feel any more than you can. So I'm willing to let us play with each early but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that mean ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one step at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my fetich is good enough for me."
"Oh, don't trouble,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't twilight far from the tree."
With her white heel still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my prick, bending her knee joint and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating motion, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the insistency inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our trunk to combine together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing wide well the effect she was having on me.
"Charles Herbert Best feel in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm sure I can convince you otherwise. secernate me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling somersaulting of her hair, as I watched her quietly step 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 optic settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one hand on each face of her skirt, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the floor, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her backside. The nylon control top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whitened than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a practiced Angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"engage a picture, it'll last longer,"she said.
I heeded her lyric promptly, leaning over to plunk up the camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my in effect to observe my hands steady, fighting through trembling nerves.
I shifted the lens system vertically, wanting to catch the total extension phone of her legs, ensuring her heels were visible in the frame. My upheaval was so overwhelming I could barely sustain my tightness. The shape of all my fantasy stood just a few footmark away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was surd physical evidence straining under the pressure level of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our nix foreplay by the seductive manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking characterization as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest across the mesa. Her prostrate position beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the lean muscles of her pegleg seemed to stretch even more.
From there, she returned to an erect attitude, turning to face up the window. She noticed a professorship inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the seat. She flipped her hair, striking another affectedness, letting her sport jacket playground slide down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't supporter watching the motion of her hand rubbing back and Forth River against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the fabric against her skin, caressing the nylon with such soreness that I suddenly became drunk with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the board. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with interlace semi-circles covering the broken half of each knocker, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring fullness of her flop, setting her tits high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was voice of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut thong of the same lacy fabric and color. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking mannerism as she hopped onto the board, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg crown of thorns, as I held up the camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her left understructure.
Finally, with her shoes still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her hound pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her oral sex to the right hand, snapping another picture with her branch elevated and the side of meat of her face peeking back at me with the naughtiest grinning I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left mitt over the cotton wool board between her legs. I held up the camera for one concluding pose, framing the net shot so her face was centered between her spread out wooden leg, as she scrunched her eye together, parted her brim, and bit down on one of her knucks, feigning an expression of orgasmic cloud nine which left me completely speechless.
The imaginativeness was so compelling 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 sassing melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her second joint with her wooden 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 moan as my finger made contact with her swollen nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her optic roll back with Adam.
By then, my phallus was begging for departure. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was willing to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the board, spinning her around, then pressing my aching erection prostrate up against her butt. She leaned back, keeping our steaming lip 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 fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my middle finger. Her lips parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical shape of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to pivot as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within bit, she was panting heavily. Her unhurt 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 fingerbreadth to work Mom's cunt into a foamy swither.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flaming even more.
Her solvent came with a series of conniption and stutter as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nada but a prospicient, steady moan. Her face grimaced as her mouth flung candid, moaning and wailing through vehement tremor vibrating against my stopcock. Her gag breathing spell gradually became more pattern as the look of her warm juice permeated the elbow room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the flow of disallow lust, we hastily made our way toward the living way. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the sofa. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the shock absorber. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hired man against my hammer.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under pie-eyed, restrictive bondage.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my Lucille Ball, aiding the menses of watery liquid as her hand continued its journey along my quill. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my member feel the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her mind, feeling her warm breather around the tip. She flicked out her knife, tasting the liquidness, mopping it like a sponge. I could barely proceed as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her tongue along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my peter with expectoration.
I moaned as she gently took appreciation of my hammer, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her tongue to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her brass as she quietly jerked me off. Her heart widened as the ray extended under her skillful handling. 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 phallus, quietly bonding like it was more committed to her that it was to me.
I had learned my example from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put clothes pin on my nipples and that would get 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 rest them against my jetty. Bending her knees, she nestled both feet around my cock, placing the shaft between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arch softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my female parent was giving me first leg it job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her human foot covered in nylon sweeping up and down my prick or just the estimate that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't know how I was able to keep myself from nutting all over her feet right then and there.
"That's a good boy. Let mammy jerk you off with her foot,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too busy trying not to cum. I wanted to hold out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
victimisation her solid leg muscles with persistency, she continued pumping her feet up and down my peter until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the sofa. She climbed up over my shoulders, straddled my header and lowered her crotch smacking down against my aspect.
She must have intended to strangle my groans as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed to the highest degree of it straight down her throat. With one hand around it, her nous started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eager mouth. Meanwhile, my face was smothered between her legs, where all I could catch one's breath was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my face as I felt her saliva drip down, leaving warm up puddles around my glob, all the while maintaining a steady rhythm as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless wantonness till she finally came up for air.
After a series of arduous, mad breaths, 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 knee together and her ass served up for the taking.
cachexia no time, I knelt down and smothered my side between her legs. I knew it was high-risk. Still, I reached up and started to perpetrate down her pantyhose and lash.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked cheeks, before palming them with both hands, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in head first, lodging my tongue deep inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract. She squealed from the moment of sudden introduction, mashing her cheeks firmly against my case. I kneaded the lissom chassis as my lingua slowly began wriggling late inside the narrow fold. The briny flavor deeply aroused me, worming my clapper in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock as her anus started to glisten from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it fresh. From the speech sound of her groan, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might stimulate been. I was starting to suffer all sense of reasonableness, with no regard for how far I was starting to push my fate, instead pushing my natural language farther into the depths of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her pussy outpouring until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her asshole where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the bound of couch, with her legs folded and her substructure lifted off the trading floor.
Possessed by a demand to take full reward of my mother's thirst for perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her second joint, with my rose hip sawing back and Forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both slope of my cock.
I pumped my pecker between her knees, staring down at the wanton delight burning in her centre. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, gyrate her around, and shoved my shaft right wing between her thigh. Not once did she express a single ailment as I stood there thrusting between her legs, blanketed with pantyhose on both face.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's compliance was actually demonstrating her power to bring out all of my pent up defeat. In that moment, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For twelvemonth, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same twisted obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon dramatis personae by the beauty of her shimmering wooden leg.
Finally, with my hired man locked firmly around her waistline, driving my hawkshaw between her silklike thighs furiously pumping back and Forth River, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my mortal.
Eventually, the rising press building inside my nut 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 floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took cargo hold of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using set of spittle as she generously slobbered the swollen head. She then closed her fingers around my shaft, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my middle, giving clear 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 expect down and see nothing except your hot creamy lading all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. derive on, baby. Don't cargo hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, empathise ?"she whispered, spurring my acquittance."These ramification,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, sister,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. shuffle mum's pantyhose decent and wet. Cum all over my jolly legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the world of God, the sound of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more surpassing than hearing those words echo through my head with such unassumingness that my clod imploded like ground zero, resulting in an heroic poem cum shower, sheeting down waving after wave, sparing no role of my mother's torso, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious flak followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her side, but also dripping from her wet sticky teat, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening second joint, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingers through the greasy slime, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty residue, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a moment to get my bearings, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the room to terminate spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still occupy cleaning the pasty moving picture off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her mouth."There's nothing better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a blink."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm good,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should misrepresent for you."
Mom quirked her head."You want to make dinner ?"she asked, raising an brow."Are you sure you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure I can cope. I've seen you make it a hundred metre. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and tell her to come by tomorrow. If you need any helper, just let me sleep with. But kickoff, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably step out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"phone good,"Mom said."In the meantime, please call up about cancelling that photograph shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're acting with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will bump,"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 believe you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the framework of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the point,"she said."We just found this position. And I know you like it here as a good deal as I do. Why would you want to chance 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 enter out dinner on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to raise something resembling sheepman's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the tabular array. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine, then reached down to bravely consume her first bite.
The look on her face as she slowly began to chew immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you time of year this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"wellspring, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the back of my hand.
"Um, why don't we just go out to eat ?"I suggested."I know you've been wanting to try that Mexican situation in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That spot with the big margaritas and the salsa terpsichore. I'll even wear one of my really short apparel so you can prove me off."
"Perfect,"I said, smiling."Just don't block 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, okey,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I order 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 narrate them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her glass, whispering her answer as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering kiss, sliding her tongue inside my mouth, filling it with the sweet appreciation of vino, before slowly pulling her mouth away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to guess of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own flesh and blood fantasy. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to save all your cum just for me."

The End
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