Shepherd's Pie
By Earth Angel

It all started when I was 10 old age old, the year my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only tyke to have his obsession with Grand Theft Auto blindsided by his showtime compaction.
I had just started junior high, where they made us read boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to realise the peril of out lustfulness, yet old enough to detect how my mother would often do the sexiest things without knowing it.
matter might have been different had my mother been more uncoerced to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my barren metre with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her More peculiar disposition.
She had an across-the-board shoe appeal, about of which were senior high school hound. She loved wearing heels so much that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the sign, by practicing in inconspicuous 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 husk. If she was sitting at home grading papers, she'd sit there for 60 minutes sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football game every Billy Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about sports. She just enjoyed wearing her fitted jersey and a twain of tights, rooting for whichever team had the precious quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would be given down, pout her brim together and gently blow until it was gone. The tone excited me so much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished high school, I was so used to being by my mother's side that leaving for college less than an minute away filled me with highly mixed emotions due to all the stupefy remembering left behind.
By my 3rd class at Ralph Waldo Emerson, the gewgaw of living away from plate had worn off almost completely. With each overtaking day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no girls and only a few male person friends to serve kill the boredom.
One dreary afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blue, with the radical idea of finding a new apartment for us to live together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with farseeing, flowing, chestnut brownness hair's-breadth, Pomaderris apetala eye, flat cheek and skinny lips set between her oval chin and the downwards tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red unitard from her glory twenty-four hours of high school gymnastic exercise, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for balance beam of light. Still, she kept her body in tremendous human body, wearing trendy outfits that proudly displayed her pert tit, besotted ass, and unspoiled of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal notion, my female parent was the spicy adult female 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 year, she started to worry that I seemed to have no interest in other female child.
I had just started college two days earlier, so the opinion of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, low-set apartment. My roomie was a tote up slob. Yet, in nastiness of the headaches, and as a great deal 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 year getting hammered every dark and screwing as many co-eds as possible. At to the lowest degree, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the same near kid from Rhode Island, with a inclination to fidget and prepare awkward prank around girls my own age, to the gunpoint where even the ugly single started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favorite exposure of her on my cell phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nil made me cum dissolute than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as long as I could remember I had always been captivated by my mother's legs. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up outcome planning to teach marketing at a nearby community college where the adult female on staff often wore pantyhose under their doll. By that time, 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 introductory element of her day by day business attire distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and proportion of her foresightful, sinuate ramification.
Maybe it was transmissible, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that prison term, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first blank space. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic consequence immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this average undergarment was imbued with extraordinary powers luring my heart to linger over the supple pure tone of her lean, slender calves, moving up to the meaty bod of her house sculpted thighs, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her hips, topped by a set of luscious round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering threads of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very outset metre that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one matter that never left me was an urgent impetus to look down and regard over the dazzling gloriole emanating from her leg. From the hind end of all her inadequate annulus, down to the tips of her toes, each twosome she wore had the power to enthral me with its own seductive coruscation.
Not a one day went by where I wasn't sitting at home waiting for her to take the air in and kick off her sexy heels. My moony oculus followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the strong incandescence of her sheeny pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the more I became heroic to flow my growing obsession at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't unusual for me to pull out my camera and get her to present for me out in public. She'd always been the type of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing pastime in photography. Eventually, I managed to gather up dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous pegleg. 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 note being her son.
My preferred film for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her peg. Before precept, working in corporate USA had given her many years to develop this exceptional skill. As a trained master, she was far too elegant to conduct one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her head up and her perky breasts pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, cross her bridge player under her doll, then with full extension, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky radical, the soaker shape visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly mobile move, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously perfect coalition, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the metric grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my dick throbbing audience that subtle swish.
Deep down, I knew it was ill-timed. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the spicy womanhood on land. Her voice alone sent quiver down my spikelet, with the perfect diction and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident pedagogue, with only the slightest trace of a distinctive New England accent mark.
Despite being over forty, her alimental diet and well-disposed behaviour gave her a youthful glow. She barely ate more than two chomp of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every morning. While it was clearly a positive thing, her sizeable lifestyle only encouraged my physical attractor to continue construction and become more powerful each day.
Her bra size of it was an mediocre 34-B. Yet, her modest chest proudly stood out in contrast with her lilliputian waistline, jutting from the slight cloth of her wet blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working exclusive mom, I had to imagine she still had needs. Yet, to my limited cognition, after the divorcement, 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 metre to engagement. She should stimulate had offers lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might birth been somewhat biased by my own verboten infatuation and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my hammer. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cadre number flashed up across the screen. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her better pictures, taken in Times public square. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a Negro miniskirt, black ticker, and a beamy pair of sunburn pantyhose gleaming in blanket day.
I snapped the picture just as Mom walked over to pose side by side to a marvelous New York streetlight. It was like she could study my thoughts as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only half visible under her prospicient hairsbreadth, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty Pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her impart knee behind her cover. She stood there holding the airs for respective seconds, with one shoe playfully lifted off the ground and a grin on her face as bright as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the earphone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained earreach had failed to notice the noisy jangle of bang, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a moment ?"she said quickly."There's something significant I need to ask you."
There was something pressing in her vox that told me it must be grave. Still, I'd just spent the last five transactions drooling over her sexy exposure. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my lowest trip home. She had over a twelve. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My dick was already throbbing. All I could recall about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hand, then taking my slick digit and wrapping them gently around my turncock. Naturally, the more than she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two calendar month,"she said."I just got a missive that my tear is increasing by almost 200 one dollar bill. There's no way I can open that."
"Okay,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not okay,"she said."I'm going to sustain to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd smell if I moved up to Boston."
At that specific mo, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so good around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the chance to be up airless and personal with her baffle legs again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it practically thought myself. I'm just not certainly what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to conceive of what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random question hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the instructor's lounge,"she said."I'm on my lunch break. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her legs crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one shoe off her ft, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's fine,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that make thing loose ?"
"You're justly,"she said."That's actually the real cause 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 overnice place for the two of us."
It took me another present moment to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the smooth velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered finger were gently grazing up and down the duration of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely concentrate. I was too busy wondering what her exempt handwriting was doing as she sat there with one hired hand holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her finger's breadth over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at dwelling house ? Was she dipping one groundwork in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to experience for sure enough. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's lounge, in full view of anyone walking by.
"semen on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always chance piece of work at another campus. Plus we can bump a place with more quad for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her annulus riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a wind of her pantyhose gusset plate peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep open myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to utter to Jimmy about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roomie, even if our lease was calendar month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some primer rules,"I added, when I started to realize the exemption I'd be giving up purely to see her ramification every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to take a crap the prescript now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"Nothing major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll regard each early's privacy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys house or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your male parent. You won't have to worry about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My bag was besotted, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more delicate clash to my teasing hired hand throw.
"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 fume dope and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's nothing you can cover from me."
"Mom, what the Hell,"I said, voicing my annoyance."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first response was to titter. Then, she started to excuse, parsing her Holy Scripture carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a short bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very bounteous. It doesn't make sentience that you'd rather sit at nursing home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of real char out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my story too ? Good Shepherd, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"sufficiency,"she said, in a sobering note that made me a wee bit neural."I never knew you had such a thing for older adult female,"she continued."Maybe I should introduce you to some of the teachers here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my calculator behind my back, by then my promontory 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 response. The raising in her voice told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must stimulate been reading my mind,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but compliments all day. It was prissy telling everyone my son picked them out."
"aplomb,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't postponement to see how they look."
"fountainhead, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at space in the morning. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might need to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be alright,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my denim. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a couplet,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject field.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your denim,"I repeated, resisting the impulse 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 matter to in that."
"Oh, it's mulct,"I said, knowing it would only be another min or so before I exploded all over my hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just make sure you tell Jimmy to wear some pants this time. It's a fiddling ill at ease seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a ogre."But then again, you can't really charge him. That dame you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was pattern distance. The skirt I'm wearing today is unretentive than that."
"Well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you keep your students from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's variety of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"Stop it, Mom. You look great. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other woman. We all like to get word it."
"fountainhead, it's truthful,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your mother, you'd probably what ?"
That was the polar minute. In 19 days, my female parent had never asked me a question as directly sexual as that. My balls were practically about to burst. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my unnatural desire to run my manpower over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy legs. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an answer intended to hide my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to choose a Weird turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, severalise me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the Same time."Seriously, I want to know,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a monolithic eruption."Do you reckon I'm a MILF…like the one you look at on those dirty websites ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't tell whether she wanted the true statement, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, arrest,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should utter about this anymore."
"O.K., mulct,"she said."I wasn't trying to realize you uncomfortable. Just order me one affair. Which component of a woman's body do you like most ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My unspoiled alternative was to push back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we flatten it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't stay there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the province I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, cease it. I can't study this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes good sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this all idea. It's bad enough you can't find a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you sense even more frustrated."
"spirit Mom, for the last time,"I said, starting to lose it."If I really wanted a girlfriend, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one infantry in the tomb ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetish I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the time. I certainly don't want you having sexual thought process about me. Surely, I don't have to tell apart you how inappropriate that would be."
Of line she didn't. I'd known all along how out or keeping it was. In that bit, I honestly didn't care. By then, I was pummeling my tool with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to soak every thread with a monumental wad of thick greasy nerve, purely out of venom.
I closed my middle, instantly reliving the indelible retentiveness that triggered my fetish in the first place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing vaporous pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from piece of work in her black fuck-me pump, the dusty odor of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her skid and asked me to rub her swollen feet. I could even render the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hips switching from English to side, pretending not to enjoy how men spun toward the sound of her fortify hound clicking on the sidewalk, only to come plate, strip down off her pantyhose and carelessly throw out them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slither my natural language over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My lurid memories pushed me right over the edge. With each violent squirt, I was forced to choke my urge to groan, watching jets of semen blast into the air, surging from the read/write head of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hand, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no estimate what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my reckless act, her pantyhose swim in a puddle of cum.
Finally, I managed to hoard myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honorable. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being fair. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important determination, I think you should distinguish me everything. Tell me the truth, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one paw, by saying no, she'd most likely sensory faculty that I was lying, which would only make her angry and potentially foul up any chance of us moving back in together. On the former deal, telling the truth would most likely freak her out so much that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even worse.
Normally, in office like this, where I wasn't exactly certain what to do, the first thing I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the best way to do her question was to turn it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before craftily attempting to airt."But first I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short breathing place."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your principal. I think if we're going to go together, then you have to call to see a girl and set about life in the existent world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"commodity,"she said."I'll see you in the morning. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The succeeding sunup, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, pitch-dark, 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 souse neckline. Her blue tightfitting jean sat low on her shapely pelvic girdle, hugging every curve under skin-tight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, Negroid leather sandals, with thin straps spanning over her defenseless understructure.
Looking down at the cuff of her jean, the commencement thing I noticed was the disturbing absence seizure of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole night tossing and turning in anticipation of seeing them the side by side morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how implicated she was talking about my fetish. So the last thing I wanted to do was call any undue attention to it rightfulness away.
We stood there enjoying a ardent hug, when my roommate, Jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grin on his face told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite shake. For a few minute, she and jemmy stood there making small talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak to me in my room.
I led her back to my chamber and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her end couplet of pantyhose with a sheer blackguard and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the distich I'd taken from her chest of drawers. So I promptly fished them from the passel of washing thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would devote her a moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must give been hurrying too much to realize that I'd purposely left the room access slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow go, 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 horseshoe at a metre, enjoying the lovely sight of denim smothering her smashed round cigarette. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zip fastener, then continued watching as her helping hand went up to her face. She hooked her thumbs into the specialise waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her rosehip side to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a G-string, resisting the impulse to gasp as she peeled down the dungaree, revealing her nude ass. My hawkshaw instantly started to well up. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a elucidate view of her outer snatch back talk, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that Jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any mo. Still, my unbelievable luck was too practiced to pass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her finger, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her nimble fingers rolled up the inaugural leg. She then lifted her left foot, then reached down and slid the closed chain of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slide the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee. She set down her unexpended human foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right foot inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her lissom thighs, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely hips under the strain cincture, making one final accommodation to lineage up the stitching along her minute butt crack, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a wondrous bed of tan, shiny, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could cause stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to quit while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the livelihood room to find jimmy rolling a junction, which I'd come to expect as component part of his morning routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a hanker 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 girlfriend in a few week anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard feelings between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roomy was soon to be.
Moments later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the visual modality of pantyhose covering her passably feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her survey. We left my apartment and set out to find our new blank space, quickly escaping so Mom could avert 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 bike and turned on the topical anesthetic 1880s place. The song on the radio thankfully managed to calm my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic lyric.
"Every little thing she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to expend the next couple of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second storey walk-up apartment, on a pipe down, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The theater was owned by a young, newlywed twain named Book of Joel and Artemis, who conveniently lived on the start floor. Joel was a successful contractor in the city. Cynthia was a one-time nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birth to their first child. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a babe, judging by the size of her enormous bosom which seemed to account for nearly half her body free weight, especially considering how shortstop she was. If I had to guess, I would own said she was easily a G-cup…With a Das Kapital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big tit !"
Compared to Mom, Artemis was easily three or four inches shorter, as I stood at Mom's English and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Artemis had graduated from the Lapplander high school as my mother, only eight age later.
Cynthia led us up to see the flat and we couldn't believe our centre. The place had literally everything we wanted, high roof, hardwood level, with tons of blank space, including a tumid eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and aliveness elbow room area, divided by sliding double doorway. On the right was a minuscule office, a small Edgar Albert Guest bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a modest storage quad, with a threshold to the indorse porch, and stairs leading up to the loft. The dome had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two bedrooms, and a large master bath.
Mom and I signed the lease in a affair of days, agreeing to travel in by October 1st.
The motion itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired removal company to cover all the big furniture. Then, on Billy Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hours. Sometime around noontide, Mom figured I was probably athirst and realized we had no food. I offered to part 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 elbow room, where I opened it and start removing the particular inside. It was mostly packed with old rule book and exposure record album, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, moth-eaten, leather-bound daybook which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty room and quietly cracked open the inaugural Sir Frederick Handley Page.
The first entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The first few launching weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing firm she'd worked at during her marriage. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks bill. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for soul else, blaming it mostly on her own dream when all Dad wanted was individual more traditional and subservient. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did look much glad with his new prize wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except incite on.
I read through the commencement five or six pages, when matter started to peck up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with Mike Louis Sullivan in the stairwell over by his role. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 years younger than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my eccentric. He hasn't layover flirting 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 motivate the duplicator outside his billet. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the floor. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just wager along. At first, he would drop it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my stage for a while. It's pretty funny to watch. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the Saame thing. He must really like my ramification. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through sufficiency lately. The last affair I want to do is hinder him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about mike. Kelly and Robin are throwing a auf wiedersehen party for me tomorrow night. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell apart he liked it too. His shaft got really firmly when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the women in the office. He probably thinks I'm adjacent. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 one dollar bill on a brand new party dress and that son of a squawk didn't even evince up. Oh well, his red I guess. God knows there were good deal of former hombre there who liked it. Never thought I could rive off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again succeeding week. It was kind of odd being the center of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know Robin was pretty green-eyed. I told her to stop buying me jibe. Besides, no one puts stripper magnetic pole in a bar total of drunken cleaning lady expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my snatch for everyone. I did tire out pantyhose. I'm sure mike would make loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his putz. I really ask to get know. I should probably invest in a good vibrator. I would experience bought one month ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would witness it. He's always sneaking into my elbow room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my pantie drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to wank by now. The concluding thing I want to ascertain is a immense cum stain on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some detail I'll have a talking with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really wish well his father 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 way. I headed back downstair trying to process all the twisted thinking scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to delight getting attention from unseasoned men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The view of Mom willingly behaving like a strumpet really got me excited. I stepped out onto the hinder porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to steady myself down.
The view from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the curtains were drawn on our new landlord's chamber window downstairs. In the corner of the room, I spotted an empty rocking chair, next to what looked like the railings on a baby's pony. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the babe in her blazonry. Even from such a high Angle, it was virtually impossible to look down and see anything other than her thumping tits. The icon reminded me of those IMAX picture show where they show you the Earth from outer space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't supporter smile at the scant blue button 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 twinkle, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in mental rejection when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already hornlike as fuck, as I watched Cynthia reach up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her remaining chest flop through the curtain raising of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's mouth over her swollen mammilla. My wholly biography I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and forth. I've always preferred pegleg, but there was no denying the beauty of Artemis's phenomenal jugs. The size of her breasts reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the simoleons until it rose into diffused, bout, flesh-coloured mounds. The farseeing I watched, the Sir Thomas More I found myself jealous of her little boy and the blissful look on his face as he eagerly suckled his female parent's tit.
Just when my prick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the battlefront door. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back interior.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a forgetful, broom gray, New England Patriots T-shirt, with black spandex yoga pants, and a pair of brown fur-lined boots. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no make-up, yet I still wanted to bend her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get much done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd time lag for you."
"That's fine. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a joker 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 sleep were all stacked in the dining room.
"Good question,"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 backside, while Mom leaned against the tabulator 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 menage. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't chosen that exact minute to set her ass on top of my bulwark. The frown on her face instantly told me she could palpate how hard I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this torment look on her cheek like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this low temperature, distant smell in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone call over again. Only this time, there was no cagey way for me to spin out it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the facial expression. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the eloquence of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leging felt more like velvety tights, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the speck. On the plus side, the textile 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 man of her.
"Maybe you should assure me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to face her, I lifted my sweaty medallion and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her headland."Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the house like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you call back what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that easy. It takes time."
"O.K., maybe you're justly,"she said."So in the meanwhile, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just have to deal 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 logical affair to do in that situation would suffer probably been to suffer up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to build Christ Within of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was willing to have a sense of liquid body substance about the wholly thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her head teacher back, arms folded as she glared at me through the specialise slits of her eye.
"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been thoroughly at sports. In school, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in division. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny frame, knowing I was too yellow to fight back. I'd been putting up with yob for as recollective 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 lame in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my rooster.
"Okay, clock time out,"Mom said, putting her manus up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your drawers, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straightaway at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a meek laugh and an obvious smirk on her typeface."So you just look 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 head to her chest, before wearily rubbing her os frontale. After a brief second, she slowly raised her question up, responding with a shortly nod, as she quietly answered."fine, do what you want. I can't full point you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would have been easy to hold on right there. I could take in easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my fag, and light one up right in social movement of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to disregard her own rule about smoking inside the menage. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of roll of tobacco."You're favorable I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any understanding, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a minute, startling me as she sprang up, with coffin nail in hired hand, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the cesspool, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a minor plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the president where I was sitting. bottle in hand, she leaned over the headland of my cock, squirting out a generous chunk of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"Will that help ?"she said, with a grinning on her expression which I instantly read as soft amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my phallus around the fundament, making her sentinel as I slid my balled clenched fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all sides, enabling me to enjoy the tactual sensation of my own slippery deal, rising and falling around my set shaft, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would canvass my technique, imagining one day to feel her hand instead of my own. The smell on her face lacked any form of expression, as if to prevent me from noticing any mark of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really pelt along this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her pelvic arch."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could turn around and usher me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and designate 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 ?'”
audition her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of implicit power, prompted the increased rhythm method of birth control of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I look at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out less than three inches from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how salutary it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is double-dyed. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the hatful of her dark leging stretched taut over the bender of her firm shapely rump. She kept her ft together, accentuating the gradient where the small of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight cloth, so amazingly daily round and entire, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm glad you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend dexter over a slight further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any Sir Thomas More orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"okey,"I whispered, losing my intimation."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."
With no vacillation, I jumped out of my stern, expecting my mother to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her indicant finger, directing me to stand in front of the death chair. Then I watched as she set her human knee down on the wooden seat, keeping her legs together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her tight gluteus muscle,"right here, all over your female parent's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then show me,"she said."Show me how horny you are right now. Let me sense it. Let me feel that hot onus all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the sound of her voice nearly caused me to expire out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to jerk off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga pant ?
I should own accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no fortune to oppose, as I lunged forward and slammed my hammer smack up against her butt, a forceful collision softened by the leging and the meaty figure underneath, the perfect shock for my throbbing phallus to grind against her smooth, velvety rump.
She let out a panic-stricken shriek, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her outspoken protest as I violently started thrusting my hips back and Forth River, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, blockage ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of form, I could try her. But I wasn't about to discontinue, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in tax return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my peter. Her voice was raspy and out of breath, with her head forward, tomentum swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so difficult. Oh my God, don't stoppage. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me feel your cum !"
In 19 twelvemonth, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so very much mettle fare gushing out of my cock like a broken water main. The military force of each spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My face was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering sensation of her soft cheeks pressed up against my pecker milked out the remaining ejaculate flowing from my aching formal.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my animal foot, the black leging spread head over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick-skulled level of white-hot creamy foam, rolling down the Black person spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist kitty.
Covered in sudor, I quietly zipped up, lost for actor's line 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 quieten. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, right idea,"she said, slowly rising to her pes."Just try to ward off getting another hard-on in the next ten minutes, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only presume she needed as much time to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the quietus of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking most of our things. Mom spent well-nigh of her meter in the kitchen, while I worked in the living elbow room hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza pie for dinner party. Then sat on the lounge and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to play some friends from school who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got dwelling, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next cockcrow, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for study. I'd woken up with barely enough time to grab a speedy shower bath, throw on some clothes and raceway off to get to my morning division. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to concern that my foolish actions had managed to ruin everything on our maiden day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a preeminence with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the reverence of Mom telling me to run out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the idea of going home, certain of what was destined to arrive.
My final category ended at twelve noon. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two ounces of bluing Dream. So I figured the best thing to do was go home, smoke a bowl and have a span beers, just to develop myself for the foul mode my mother was sure to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the mansion, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the same box where I'd left it, right at the metrical unit of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few Thomas Nelson Page, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was kind of scared at low, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a vista. He was well dressed for a young guy with a nice business concern courtship like he could receive been a attorney or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many mesa as I took my bum, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly sense him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my branch. I could take in got up and found another bottom, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and celebrate my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd relocation on. After a second, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take in the hint and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a import, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how unquiet he was to approach me. I was kind of insult, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not give him one just to fuck with his promontory. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee bean, turned my rose hip toward him, and slowly uncrossed my stage. I paused for a minute, holding them open to prove him the black thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my legs back and forth. Each clock time, I held my legs clear for a second, letting him see up my chick. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to follow me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a heavy deal on a bootleg pair of jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a courteous glossy 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 Negroid G-string, but about of the pantyhose covering my ramification as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some misuse keep me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the judiciary thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my branch spread and my skirt up around rose hip, working my metrical unit into the horseshoe. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play clean-handed with his back turned. At that detail, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the brake shoe and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the exit and turned around to see if he was still behind me. Sure enough, he walked out with a smile on his face like he hadn't done anything amiss. By then, I was so annoy that I walked over and asked if I could serve with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a char with beautiful legs. I asked if he got off peeking up women's skirts. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a slit or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to take me out for a drink to see if he could change my opinion. He looked a little wild when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a deterrent example and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly undid my blouse, then told him to deal out his cock. He looked around for a 2nd. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my medal, taking his stopcock in one bridge player, while using the other to slowly pull up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my button, while using the other to stroke his pecker hard and fasting. I jerked him until he started to moan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The passage ended there, but the rousing effect lingered in my vivid imagination longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without interrogative sentence my initiatory clear grounds that the women who raised me and handed down all of my morals was bequeath to engage in extreme, high-risk, sexual behavior with seemingly any young man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the feel and opinion 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-grass on exposing my female parent's morose side, determined to see how far she was uncoerced to go to meet her deepest sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the sofa, 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 stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the gossamer from my headspring, as I walked toward the audio of someone knocking on the threshold.
Recalling my female parent's bank bill, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his shaft belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced body politic, I almost choked as I opened the room access and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melon spilling out of a lustrous Orange satin nightie.
"Good morning,"she said, over a cryptical yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled look, as I glanced down at her blurry ping 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 arcminute ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's cool. arrive on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty William Christopher Handy with a wrench myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her grimace."That's actually form of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, bathroom sink, and one of the wanton electrical switch in the attic."
"No worry,"she said."Smoke alert probably needs a new battery. If the Christ Within switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Book of Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had short blond hair, in one of those voguish bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely frame for the voluminosity of her round, chubby face. Knowing how critical some women are, she might have described herself as overweight. In my sentiment, the superfluous baby free weight just made her look more red-hot. Her coxa were fairly wide, yet her venter was still pretty flat, with a couple of incredibly Brobdingnagian knockers, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a lilliputian 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 polite way to hold back myself from staring down at her giant snout. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's mammilla reminded me of those weighty bags down at the gym, two of them, incline to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did curiosity for her pap too, swelling and poking out like thimble through the orange satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half au naturel, I did my best to alleviate her sense of urgency, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could cause waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave work until five or six. She's more tender to the cold than I am. My old apartment was practically worse. Not to mention, we trust you."
"wellspring, I'm gladiolus you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our for the first time tenants since we bought this place…hate to set out off on the wrong foot,"she added."The radiator seems finely, must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny-goat and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"sound expert,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and insure out the cesspool too. I just need to put on some existent clothes."
"No rushing, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be proficient to wear a little more future clip, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightie had helplessly slipped down."I know the young lady can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the strap, a useless attack to cover up, making her bosom meat jiggle under the nightgown, as I stood there fighting to celebrate my eyeball inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in front of the office, pointing to the television camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the lensman ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a hobby. When I was youth, I had this ambition of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or Playboy,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's cool,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up 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, cautious, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a hand 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 girls I knew back in senior high schooling, the unity who'd been spoiled since birth and hid their emotions under a well-practiced grin and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, suitable in this case considering her plentiful bosom.
"William Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our back anniversary. I wasn't for certain what to get Joel as a giving, but now I'm thinking he'd really savor some squeamish glamour jibe, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her man and wife. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle flirting of this desperate housewife or the rapidly growing erection in my gasp.
"Umm, certain, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and take some test stroke, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the position, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to peel down the compensate strap of her nightdress, letting it come off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the twinkling,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the present moment the photographic camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so much confidence in front of the lense. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting back talk and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating effect of her aroused down in the mouth heart. Yet, the sultry flavour on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the mo she crossed her arms together, thrusting her tit toward the camera like dual airbags, completely filling up the flesh with more cleavage than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various poses, when I mildly requested that we step over across the hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hired hand, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need much instruction as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her header tilted back, and her chest of drawers pointed up toward the roof.
"thinker if I ask you a personal interrogative,"I asked, as she shifted over to her unexpended slope, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"Well, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be minuscule before I got meaning. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they hurt your dorsum ?"
"All the clip,"she said."Imagine trying to take the air with two gallon of milk strapped to your dresser. It sort of feeling like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my point."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm breast feeding. But I'd rather do that than use pattern, 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 lots of fruit to fix it sweeter. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stoppage much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these video and see which angles work best. Let me know when you have time for a broad photo shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something amiss ?"I asked."If you need metre to cerebrate about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calm in her vox combined with her level gaze gave me a lightheaded feeling as I set down the tv camera, then pulled out a chairwoman, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed things couldn't possibly get weirder, this char I barely knew was offering to let me taste her bosom milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my firstly momentum was to inhume my face between her bureau and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her fling out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little rummy.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her aright hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her exit shoulder shoulder strap. Sweat drop formed across my hilltop as she fixed her center on me and quietly peeled down the other. My eyes concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her massive chest, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her custody to patiently alleviate down the glazed cloth. Finally, with a puffiness in my throat, I looked on intently as Artemis managed to displume out her enormous jugs.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't penetrate how a woman so small could end up with tits that big. Each one was prominent than my straits and must sustain weighed at least ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the sizing and SHAPE of these two gigantic globes, hovering in from my face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with stretch marks along both face of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Artemis's tits were far too heavily to lam the effects of sobriety, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the subdued tissue really started to wiggle.
acerate leaf to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her tits out for all their glorification, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to get it on how proud she was of her immense 38FFs.
Sitting in the chair, my eyes were plane with her pink pap, sprouting invitingly from the raised open of her dark areolas, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger, stopping me when I leaned in too tight.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, undecided wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed orders, leaning my head back, then parting my lips open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her thumb and index on each side of her correct tit. Then, using light pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching gesture. The first sprinkling squirted from her nipple like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was thoroughgoing, pointing her nipple directly in front of my sass. I instantly closed my centre, compelled by the need to cut this moment deep into my memory forever. The feel seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious. The Henry Sweet, tangy liquid filling my open mouth magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me meter to savour the creamy droplets lingering inside my backtalk. My optic opened just in time to see her lifting her other breast, which soon began streaming Milk River over my tongue as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my spit through the warm up ambrosia, letting the smack seep into every corner of my mouth, tingling my taste buds, as the world around me faded into a remote blur.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's angelical,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really treasure your aid with the depiction. 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 nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear-cut that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't avail myself from testing the water system just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you feel about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us wear them all the time at the hospital. You know, like those ugly white compression hosiery. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter belted ammunition ?"
"Hmm, that's an mind too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nurse's outfit, with white bounder and shining gabardine hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just wee-wee me look good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a brief hug and a soft osculation 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 shaft was so backbreaking I could barely walk, like all the blood in the residue of my body had instantly rushed down to my throb private parts. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to ascertain Mom's journal once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the arctic air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the date of her up-to-the-minute entry. My chest heaved the consequence I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut feeling that something inside her wanted it to happen too. In my judgement, the theory was so tantalizing that the forbidden hullabaloo of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that full point, I wanted a way to ready the consequence even better. I wasn't sure where the approximation came from, maybe from being in such a cold room. Or maybe it was just my natural instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled open my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a voluptuary pile of high quality adult female's hosiery, in a multitude of coloration, convention and thickness levels. I studied the megabucks, breathing heavily over the premium of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose buffet. I rummaged through the pile, searching until my manus came across a plumage light pair of silky, midnight black pantyhose brush against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my jeans and underclothing, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking instruction manual from the store of watching Mom put them on under her blue jean. With the pantyhose drawn up over my human knee, I then had to work on out stretching the nylon over my cock and balls. My dick stood up like a fleur-de-lis pole as I stretched the fragile threading to its limitation, drawing the cincture various column inch away from my navel while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my stomach. That firstly moment of come encasement from the waist down filled my altogether 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 fluent pegleg took me to a storey of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my member beneath the cloth, making me finger right at home.
Ready to get down version, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her breast, and the demented expectation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my load as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the pot, sent me into a dreamlike land as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting dissimilar lately. I love him to death and I can't service look responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting older and he's basically grown enough to make his own decisions. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendencies that are far too dangerous to overlook. I was able to look past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even discount all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this bizarre compulsion 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 for sure why I said those affair. It's hard to even stomach the thought of letting him demean me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my animation, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own flesh and bloodline. What form of mother would I be to let him remember what he did was okay ? It doesn't matter how a great deal I enjoyed it. There's nothing legal injury with enjoying the spirit of mortal 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 authority to pull in it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a middling decent size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so pull since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was someone 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 receive someone, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is crazy. I missed him so much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work this out, as long as I'm able to control myself better that he can. opine we'll just have to wait and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and keep out my eyes, letting her intelligence replay in my head, 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 past five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the diary back in the box, then ran to my room with no time to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a pair of socks, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden comer, staying as calm as I could.
"You're home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of rubble ring armour, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning grimace forward with a quick smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her fashionable gray business courting. The color was a little olive drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right above mid-thigh, leaving More than enough leg on showing where I could briefly pause to gaze over the neutral color of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her Patrick White leather heart.
"Sorry, probably smoked too much,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner ?"
"wellspring,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to empty the bag."Since it's our first prescribed home-cooked meal in our new shoes, I went out and got poppycock to piss shepherd's pie."
The stunner Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with onion plant, carrots, basis lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed potatoes. It was also an inside jest among our kin.
shepherd was the gens Mom took when she got married, the name she'd kept after the divorcement so her last epithet would still be the same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and other particular occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the good Nationalist China ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the Saami thing for dinner when we moved into our first blank space. I figured since you're the new man of the mansion, I should attain it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty serious. For a irregular, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that dawning, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got place. I had spent about of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would experience said something right then, but the smile on her font was so clear and full of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the way. In that moment, I could only adopt that Mom had made the decision to move on like naught had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter head on, I did my dear to ignore the stress between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my muteness, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the elbow room. She must possess picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my school principal as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck opening. Her essence smelled like mint candy as her hazel tree eyes cut rightfield through me. Her long, steady gaze calmed me to the point where the terror inside me gradually started to languish away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not certain,"I said,"just been a strange yoke of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been somewhat nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could feel the warmth of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the rim. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't feel my erection against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how a good deal I missed you all this clock time. It means so much that you're willing to reach up your freedom to live with your nutcase, old mom. I want you to know no affair what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to seize her and buss her as hard 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 press my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a minute, quickly blinking, trying to collect my mentation. In hindsight, perhaps I should consume lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her breast, with a mild grin on my face, as I calmly proceeded to explicate how Cynthia had stopped by to begin with, noticed the camera in the place and thought it would be cool to give Book of Joel some sexy photos for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her face immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her pass to the side."Are you sure she just wanted icon, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her torso felt like she was bracing for a major jounce. Her eyes stared intently as she quietly held her intimation.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily repose as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the babe,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the issue of tit Milk. At initiative, it was all pretty touchstone. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my answer the moment I turned away. Before I could stop 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 Joel hears about this,"she said."The last matter we need is a reason for him to cast us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the pictures one at a time.
I could see the hurt in her voice as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's nothing,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a living. It's just a way to bulge my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the articulatio humeri. The tomentum falling over her side made it unmanageable to see her saying, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to solace her.
Finally, with rent welling in her eyes, she looked back, voice trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her parole struck me like a deadbolt of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with more warmth than a soldier returning from war. Her backtalk parted, surprisingly accepting my natural language, returning my lust-filled blowup with the same intense urging.
We stood there feverishly making out with each former for God knows how tenacious. Our hired hand roamed everywhere, groping each other's bodies in a natural state frenzy. The marvelous texture as I ran my digit through her slick brown whisker, combined with the boot of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to make down and stuff both hand under her skirt, running my hired hand over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my digit over every column inch of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her lissom cheeks yielding to the pressure of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a thin out bed of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the secret inside my blue jean. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to hand down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the gentleness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to quit my helping hand from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and thighs, as she urgently reached through my undefended slide fastener, trying in vain to feel my cock, only to be blocked by a span of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was nothing I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her fingers softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of silent realization passed between us, where placing her script against the smooth, dismal fibers of the pantyhose hidden inside my jean opened a portal leadership to the shadows of forbidden sex.
Slowly, my female parent began tracing her digit over the outline of my bulging tool. I could hardly conceive my gorgeous female parent was actually touching my shaft, let alone smiling as I felt her deal slowly begin rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."Well, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her touchy sense of touch, with her fingerbreadth gliding over the ridges of my stiff, pulsating beam, light as a feather, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitching, as if learning my weak post, while brushing the tips of her fingers against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the belief of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying wizard, letting the pleasance absorb through my privates, spreading through every cell of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little tight, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my pecker, slowly moving down to my aching globe. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a little control can be unspoiled for you,"she said."But I do have to say one thing. I can't traverse my touch sensation any Thomas More than you can. So I'm willing to let us act with each former but only so much."
"okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that stand for ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one footstep at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my juju is practiced enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."
With her livid heels still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my lance, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating motion, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with joy as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from hindquarters, forcing our consistency to meld together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing broad well the effect she was having on me.
"Charles Herbert Best feeling in the Earth,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm indisputable I can win over you otherwise. tell apart me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling pass of her tomentum, as I watched her quietly pace back toward the dining table.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her heels together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one manus on each side of her skirt, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the flooring, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her fanny. The nylon control top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even white than the nylon extending down her ramification.
"Is this a goodness slant ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond in force,"I said, shaking my head.
"take aim a photo, it'll last yearner,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to pick up the camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the Lapp pose, as I did my adept to keep my hands unshakable, fighting through wobbly nerves.
I shifted the crystalline lens vertically, wanting to enamor the full extension of her leg, ensuring her heels were visible in the frame. My agitation was so drown I could barely maintain my immersion. The shape of all my fancy stood just a few stride away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was knockout strong-arm evidence straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our forestall foreplay by the seductive manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking icon as she leaned all the way over, laying her dresser across the mesa. Her prostrate position beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the angle sinew of her wooden leg seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright post, turning to face up the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the seat. She flipped her hair, striking another pose, letting her sports coat slide down over her left berm. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the motion of her hand rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to savor feeling the textile against her peel, caressing the nylon with such heart that I suddenly became imbibe with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace semi-circles covering the lower half of each breast, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring fullness of her bust, setting her tits mellow atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was role of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut thong of the same lacy textile and coloring. She didn't wait long to dislodge into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her exit animal foot.
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 cad pointed toward the cap. I watched as she crooked her pass to the rightfulness, snapping another scene with her ramification elevated and the side of her face peeking back at me with the racy grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one Thomas More and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"establishment, where she reached down and placed her left helping hand over the cotton panel between her pegleg. I held up the photographic camera for one in conclusion mannerism, framing the final snapshot so her face was centered between her unresolved ramification, as she scrunched her eyeball together, parted her mouth, and bit down on one of her knuckle duster, feigning an expression of orgasmic cloud nine which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so obligate 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 sass melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her legs wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me sufficiency room to reach out up and fondle her breast. She let out a groan as my finger's breadth made touch with her swollen mammilla, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my penis was begging for release. Still, I wasn't sure how far she was willing to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on flavorless up against her tush. She leaned back, keeping our steaming sassing bonded together, swirling her spit against mine.
Keeping one hired hand firmly attached to her boob, I took the other and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my digit inside her step-in, where I reached down and penetrated her pussycat with my heart digit. Her backtalk parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the vital term of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clitoris.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her solid torso started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to shake off even more. For once in my sprightliness, I was actually in control, using my finger's breadth to work Mom's pussy into a foamy lather.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the fire even more.
Her answer came with a serial publication of fits and stutter as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nothing but a long, steady groan. Her case grimaced as her mouth flung open, moaning and wailing through violent tremors vibrating against my turncock. Her heaving breathing spell gradually became more normal as the look of her tender juices permeated the elbow room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the electric current of forbidden lust, we hastily made our way toward the living room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the cushions. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my cock.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under tight, restrictive slavery.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my balls, aiding the flow of reeking liquid as her hand continued its journey along my putz. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my penis feel the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her promontory, feeling her quick breath around the tip. She flicked out her spit, tasting the liquidness, mopping it like a parazoan. I could barely run as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her tongue along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my pecker with spittle.
I moaned as she gently took wait of my pecker, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her spit to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her face as she quietly jerked me off. Her centre widened as the shaft extended under her skillful manipulation. She seemed to bed exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more bind to her that it was to me.
I had learned my lesson from the day before, choosing to be patient role, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you beware if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put wearing apparel oarlock on my teat and that would birth been o.k.. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far odorous and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch, swinging her legs up to rest them against my inguen. Bending her knee joint, she nestled both feet around my peter, placing the shaft between her delicate sole, grazing the nylon against it, as her silken arch softly continued to buck me off.
Finally, my female parent was giving me first infantry job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her substructure covered in nylon sweeping up and down my turncock or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't know how I was capable to keep myself from nutting all over her human foot correct then and there.
"That's a unspoilt boy. Let Mommy hitch you off with her metrical unit,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your shaft, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too officious trying not to cum. I wanted to apply out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
victimization her inviolable leg muscles with pertinacity, she continued pumping her feet up and down my putz until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the lounge. She climbed up over my shoulders, straddled my point and lowered her crotch nose drops down against my face.
She must have intended to muffle my moan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed nearly of it straight down her pharynx. With one hand around it, her head started bobbing, jerk 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 aspect was smothered between her stage, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my case as I felt her saliva dribble down, leaving ardent puddles around my orb, all the patch maintaining a steady calendar method as my member continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon till she finally came up for air.
After a series of heavy, frenzied intimation, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to stick out up beside her and bend her over the couch, with her human knee together and her ass served up for the taking.
cachexy no meter, I knelt down and stifle my face between her leg. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to take out down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked cheeks, before palming them with both bridge player, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in capitulum first, lodging my knife mysterious inside her arse and holding it there until her rectal heftiness started to declaration. She squealed from the moment of sudden insertion, mashing her cheeks firmly against my grimace. I kneaded the sylphlike flesh as my tongue slowly began wriggling deep inside the constrict crease. The briny flavor deeply aroused me, worming my tongue in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the cushion as her anus started to gleam from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful female parent's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the audio of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might bear been. I was starting to lose all sense of reason, with no attentiveness for how far I was starting to labor my luck, instead pushing my tongue farther into the astuteness of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to pass water her snatch flood until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no office left in her arse where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the boundary of couch, with her legs folded and her feet lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a demand to shoot wax advantage of my mother's thirstiness for perversion, I pulled out my hammer and sandwiched it between her human knee, gripping her thighs, with my articulatio coxae sawing back and Forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both sides of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knees, staring down at the wanton pleasance burning at the stake in her eyes. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my stopcock right wing between her thighs. Not once did she give tongue to a single complaint as I stood there thrusting between her pegleg, blanketed with pantyhose on both sides.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my female parent's meekness was actually demonstrating her power to unfreeze all of my pent up foiling. In that moment, it suddenly became clear up that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For year, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same squirm obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon form by the beauty of her shimmering leg.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my dick between her silklike second joint furiously pumping back and Forth, only then was I truly capable to see how fully she possessed my mortal.
Eventually, the rising air pressure construction inside my balls rose to a level much too mighty to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my monition, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy whiteness pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took keep of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her oral fissure, using lots of spit as she generously slobbered the swell drumhead. She then closed her finger around my shaft, tightening her clenched fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my center, giving acquit program line 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 look down and see nothing except your hot creamy lode all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. Come on, baby. Don't grasp back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, realise ?"she whispered, spurring my sacking."These pegleg,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, child,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. Make mama's pantyhose squeamish and wet. Cum all over my passably legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the cosmos of God, the sound of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those Book echo through my head with such seriousness that my globe imploded like ground zero, resulting in an heroic poem cum exhibitor, sheeting down undulation after wave, sparing no section of my mother's eubstance, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her typeface, but also dripping from her wet sticky tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingerbreadth through the oily goop, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty balance, slurping it in her rima oris like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a moment to get my carriage, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the room to block up spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still meddlesome cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."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 unspoilt,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should wangle for you."
Mom quirked her head."You want to make dinner ?"she asked, raising an brow."Are you sure you know how to take in it ?"
"I'm surely I can manage. I've seen you make it a hundred times. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and tell her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me eff. But start, I should probably parachute in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably step out and have a butt first anyway,"I told her.
"phone respectable,"Mom said."In the meantime, please think about cancelling that exposure shoot with Artemis. I really think you're performing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, naught will happen,"I said."You can trust me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I intrust you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model of possession lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"well, maybe not, but that isn't the point,"she said."We just found this shoes. And I know you like it here as a good deal as I do. Why would you want to risk losing it so soon ?"
"amercement, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to visualise out dinner party on my own.
It took me some fourth dimension, still I managed to get something resembling sheepherder's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two methamphetamine hydrochloride of wine-coloured, then reached down to bravely read her first bite.
The facial expression on her aspect 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 ?"
"well, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the dorsum 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 office in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's rightfulness,"she said."That berth with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really short dresses so you can show me off."
"perfective tense,"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 female parent when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit disjointed."So what should I tell people if somebody asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is tell 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 honeyed taste of vino, before slowly pulling her lip away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to think of me as your lady friend. I'll wear whatever you want me to fall apart. 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 quit wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to make unnecessary all your cum just for me."

The End
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