Shepherd's Pie
By Earth Angel

It all started when I was 10 yr old, the year my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only tyke to deliver his obsession with Grand Theft motorcar blindsided by his low press.
I had just started next-to-last high, where they made us read boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to empathise the peril of forbidden lust, yet old enough to comment how my mother would often do the aphrodisiac affair without knowing it.
Things might have been different had my female parent been more uncoerced to let me out of her vision. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally keep up at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my liberate time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her Thomas More peculiar trend.
She had an encompassing shoe solicitation, to the highest degree of which were high bounder. She loved wearing blackguard 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 home, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a straw. If she was sitting at household grading papers, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sunday, though she knew almost zip about fun. She just enjoyed wearing her match island of Jersey and a duo of tights, rooting for whichever squad had the cutest quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would slant down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The feeling excited me so much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished heights school, I was so put-upon to being by my mother's side of meat that leaving for college less than an hr away filled me with highly ruffle emotions due to all the amazing retentiveness left behind.
By my third year at Emerson, the novelty of living away from domicile had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no girls and only a few Male friends to help kill the boredom.
One dismal afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blueing, with the radical estimate of finding a new flat for us to know together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking fair sex, with longsighted, flowing, chestnut brown haircloth, hazel eyes, flatbed nerve and skinny lips set between her oval chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her glory days of gamey school gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for balance beam. Still, she kept her body in tremendous shape, wearing trendy kit that proudly displayed her pert breasts, slopped ass, and unspoilt of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my mother was the hottest woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a total bollix obsession. I tried my undecomposed to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the long time, she started to worry that I seemed to consume no pursuit in other young lady.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the thought of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a little, pudgy flat. My roommate was a total sloven. Yet, in spite 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 persona of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to spend my Jr year getting hammered every Nox and screwing as many co-ed as potential. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the same skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and wee awkward jokes around girl my own age, to the point where even the horrible ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favorite pictures of her on my cell speech sound. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum faster than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as long as I could remember I had always been captivated by my mother's pegleg. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up event provision to teach marketing at a nearby residential district college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their skirts. By that fourth dimension, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many years. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this staple factor of her daily business dress distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and proportion of her hanker, sinuous legs.
Maybe it was transmissible, or perhaps it was just pubescence, but around that sentence, I became so fixated on my female parent's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the initiative lieu. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic core immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary unmentionable was imbued with extraordinary index luring my eyes to lounge over the slender tincture of her lean, slender calves, moving up to the meaty flesh of her firm sculpted thigh, 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 train of thought of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very first off time that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one affair that never left me was an pressing impulse to look down and gaze over the glaring aura emanating from her legs. From the can of all her short doll, down to the tips of her toes, each twosome she wore had the business leader to enthrall me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at place waiting for her to walk in and kick off her aphrodisiacal bounder. My languorous centre followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the warm glow of her glistening pantyhose, completely spellbound. The prospicient I stared, the more I became desperate to course my growing compulsion 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 nonplus for me out in public. She'd always been the type of female parent who gladly encouraged any sideline I developed, especially my growing interestingness in photography. Eventually, I managed to amass dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her prospicient, gorgeous legs. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to mention being her son.
My favorite pic for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her wooden leg. Before teaching, working in corporate U.S. had given her many years to rise this particular accomplishment. As a groom professional person, she was far too elegant to take 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, drag her hands under her dame, then with full university extension, jerk out one leg, flexing the tip of her horseshoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky root, the dipsomaniac conformation visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her depress thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motility, seamlessly merging her business firm shapely calves in deliciously perfective alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the grain, a thrilling audio that instantly made my prick pounding hearing that subtle swish.
oceanic abyss down, I knew it was wrong. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the hot woman on world. Her voice alone sent shudder down my spine, with the perfect phrasing and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident educator, with only the slightest shadow of a typical New England accent.
Despite being over forty, her nutritious dieting and well-disposed demeanor gave her a youthful glow. She barely ate More than two raciness of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two geographical mile every morning. While it was clearly a positive thing, her goodish modus vivendi only encouraged my strong-arm attraction to continue building and become more powerful each day.
Her bra sizing was an average 34-B. Yet, her modest thorax proudly stood out in contrast with her petite waist, jutting from the flimsy material of her tight blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to imagine she still had needs. Yet, to my limited knowledge, after the divorce, she had no men in her spirit. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so lots time worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had time to particular date. She should have had pass lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own forbidden infatuation and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My sound started buzzing and Mom's cell phone number flashed up across the blind. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her unspoiled pictures, taken in Times square toes. She had on this beautiful, wine-coloured blouse, with a black mini, total darkness ticker, and a beamy pair of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the scene just as Mom walked over to pose adjacent to a marvellous New House of York streetlight. It was like she could read my idea as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her brass was only half visible under her long hairsbreadth, as she leaned forward and pressed her os frontale against the rusty terminal. She rotated just enough to smile toward the television camera, flexing her left knee joint behind her binding. She stood there holding the pose for several moment, with one brake shoe playfully lifted off the ground and a smile on her face as bright as the pantyhose on her branch.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the phone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to notice the noisy jangle of whack, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something crucial I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her spokesperson that told me it must be unplayful. Still, I'd just spent the last-place five second drooling over her sexy photograph. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my last trip-up household. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My dick was already throbbing. All I could believe about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my deal, then taking my silky fingerbreadth and wrapping them gently around my peter. Naturally, the more she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My letting is up in two month,"she said."I just got a letter that my rent is increasing by almost 200 buck. There's no way I can open that."
"O.K.,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not approve,"she said."I'm going to have to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd feel if I moved up to Boston."
At that especial instant, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so unspoiled around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the chance to be up close and personal with her awing wooden leg again.
"I understand if you need to remember about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not trusted what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to suppose what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random question hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's lounge,"she said."I'm on my lunch break. Why ?"
"No grounds,"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 foot, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's mulct,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that make things easy ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the real reasonableness why I called. I know how you feel about your roomy. And I've never been dotty about the region you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a Nice billet for the two of us."
It took me another present moment to reply. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the smooth velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely reduce. I was too busy wondering what her free hand was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her digit over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at place ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to know for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's sofa, in to the full view of anyone walk by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always find employment at another campus. Plus we can find a place with more space for your photographic camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to get to inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to speak to prise about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roomy, even if our lease was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some ground pattern,"I added, when I started to realize the freedom I'd be giving up purely to see her branch every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to make the regulation now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"nothing major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be certainly we'll respect each early's privacy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing blackguard menage or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to care about that."
My rhythm method was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was miserly, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more ticklish friction to my teasing helping hand diagonal.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my clenched fist."I'm talking about respecting each other's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you infinite to smoke locoweed 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 hide 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 reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to excuse, parsing her words carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a piddling bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very better-looking. It doesn't make sensation that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of real char out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit flighty."I never knew you had such a thing for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should present you to some of the teachers here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought process of her checking my figurer behind my back, by then my head was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the topic to something more perk up."Did you like the new brake shoe I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a second, as I lied there waiting for her resolution. The elevation in her voice told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must have been reading my mind,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had cypher but compliments all day. It was nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"aplomb,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch inglorious strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't wait to see how they look."
"wellspring, you're in circumstances,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at places in the sunrise. You should arrive with me."
"Mmm, I'd honey to do,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds ripe. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might want to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be finely,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jean. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a pair,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your blue jean,"I repeated, resisting the urge to groan."I supposition that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute or so before I exploded all over my handwriting."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 arrive at surely you tell jemmy to wear some pant this time. It's a niggling inept seeing your roomy with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a daimon."But then again, you can't really blame him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal distance. The skirt I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"fountainhead 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 form of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"diaphragm it, Mom. You look peachy. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any former woman. We all like to see it."
"wellspring, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your mother, you'd probably what ?"
That was the polar moment. In 19 yr, my mother had never asked me a head as directly intimate as that. My balls were practically about to erupt. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my affected desire to run my men over her gentle silky pantyhose and cum all over her aphrodisiac peg. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an answer intended to obliterate my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to hold a weird turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, assure me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same metre."Seriously, I want to know,"she press out, as I held back what felt like a monolithic blast."Do you reckon I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those begrime web site ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't William Tell whether she wanted the truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"okay, mulct,"she said."I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Just tell me one thing. Which component part of a adult female's body do you like nigh ? Wait, let me pretend, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My Charles Herbert Best option was to labour back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we throw away it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't full point there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the state I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, stop it. I can't take this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sentience, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's right that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this whole thought. It's bad enough you can't feel a girl. I'd hatred to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the shoemaker's last fourth dimension,"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 understructure in the grave ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetish I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the sentence. I certainly don't want you having sexual mentation about me. Surely, I don't have to tell you how inappropriate that would be."
Of track she didn't. I'd known all along how unfitting it was. In that mo, I honestly didn't upkeep. By then, I was pummeling my shaft with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to soak every thread with a massive wad of thick greasy spunk, purely out of malice.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible storage that triggered my fetish in the maiden place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing sheer pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from work in her pitch blackness fuck-me pump, the moth-eaten olfactory sensation of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her horseshoe and asked me to rub her conceited animal foot. I could even figure the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hips switching from side to side, pretending not to sleep with how men spun toward the sound of her lace blackguard clicking on the pavement, only to come home, unclothe off her pantyhose and carelessly sky them in the hamper, leaving them for me to scavenge, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my tongue over the wet post, and deeply inhaled her impregnable, musky scent.
My lurid memory pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my urge to groan, watching jets of semen blast into the air, surging from the head of my pecker, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my script, while my mother patiently waited on the former end, with no theme what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my heady act, her pantyhose swim in a kitty of cum.
Finally, I managed to accumulate myself, leading with a sonorous sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to disturb you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tone of voice."Don't hang up. I know you were just being reliable. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important decision, I think you should recite 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 hand, by saying no, she'd most in all probability sense that I was lying, which would only make her angry and potentially bodge any chance of us moving back in together. On the other mitt, telling the truth would most likely gross out her out so much that she might not address to me again for months, and that was even worse.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly indisputable what to do, the first-class honours degree thing I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my billet. That's when it hit me that the substantially way to suffice her enquiry was to turn it around and ask her a inquiry of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before knavishly attempting to redirect."But first I'd like to get word what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a poor breather."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your head. I think if we're going to live together, then you have to assure to find a girlfriend and start out living in the real man. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"Good,"she said."I'll see you in the daybreak. And don't forget to take back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next morning time, Mom showed up right on docket, in a form-fitting, disgraceful, V-neck perspirer, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver medal necklace which failed to continue me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her plunging neckline. Her blue skinny jeans sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every curve under skin-tight dungaree, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, black leather sandals, with thin straps spanning over her nude feet.
Looking down at the cuff of her jeans, the maiden thing I noticed was the interrupt absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole night tossing and turn in prediction of seeing them the following morning.
My first inherent aptitude was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how touch she was talking about my juju. So the last matter I wanted to do was anticipate any undue attention to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a warm 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 civilized handshake. For a few minutes, she and Jimmy stood there making small talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak to me in my room.
I led her back to my bedroom and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her last brace of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the twain I'd taken from her vanity. So I promptly fished them from the pile of wash thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would move over her a moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must have been hurrying too much to clear that I'd purposely left the threshold slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow crack, knowing it was wrong, yet still ineffectual to tear my center from watching her undress.
With her back turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one horseshoe at a time, enjoying the lovely sight of dungaree smothering her tight cycle butt. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her hands went up to her English. She hooked her pollex into the contract waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips side of meat to side. I fully expected to see panty, or at least a G-string, resisting the urge to heave as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her naked ass. My hawkshaw instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a top view of her outer pussycat sassing, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my incredible hazard was too good to go up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her nimble finger's breadth rolled up the inaugural leg. She then lifted her left animal foot, then reached down and slid the ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slid the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended articulatio genus. She set down her left invertebrate foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right foot inside the opposite arm, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her genu, drawing the nylon inch by in over her supple thighs, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely hips under the straining waistband, making one final adaptation to line up the sewing along her contract hindquarters crack, where her high-class asscheeks, under a terrifically layer of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a brace of half-moons.
I could have stood there watching forever, but my inherent aptitude told me to take leave while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the living room to find jimmy rolling a joint, which I'd come to expect as component part of his dawning routine. The Nox before, he and I had sat down for a prospicient talk where I'd delicately broken the tidings to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, Jimmy took it in footstep, explaining that he had already been planning to impress in with his girlfriend in a few hebdomad anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard touch sensation between us, especially when I stopped to turn over who my new roommate was soon to be.
Moments later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her pretty metrical unit. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her sentiment. We left my flat and set out to find our new station, quickly escaping so Mom could avoid Jimmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the wheel and turned on the local eighties station. The Song on the radio thankfully managed to cool it my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focal point toward the highly ironical lyric.
"Every short matter she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the side by side span of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, back trading floor walk-up apartment, on a hushed, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The house was owned by a young, newlywed couple named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first level. Joel was a successful contractile organ in the city. Cynthia was a former nursemaid turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birth to their low gear child. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the sizing of her enormous titty which seemed to account for nearly half her organic structure system of weights, especially considering how short she was. If I had to guess, I would have said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big titty !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inches shorter, as I stood at Mom's face and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the same senior high school shoal as my female parent, only eight long time later.
Cynthia led us up to see the flat and we couldn't believe our eyes. The place had literally everything we wanted, high ceiling, hardwood flooring, with tons of space, including a large eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and living room orbit, divided by sliding stunt man doorway. On the right was a small office, a diminished node lavatory, then the kitchen, followed by a little store space, with a door to the back porch, and stairs leading up to the Ionic dialect. The noodle had been completely remodeled for new renter, with two bedrooms, and a with child passe-partout bathing tub.
Mom and I signed the lease in a matter of days, agreeing to actuate in by Oct 1st.
The move itself went fairly politic. Mom hired movers to deal all the big furniture. Then, on Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hours. Sometime around noonday, Mom figured I was probably thirsty and realized we had no solid food. I offered to start unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and part removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old record book and photo albums, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound daybook which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the evacuate way and quietly cracked open the first page.
The for the first time entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If retention served me correctly, it was only six month after my parents'divorce.
The outset few entries 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 certificate and put in her two-weeks placard. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for mortal else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was someone More traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much happy with his new trophy wife. So there really was zippo else for Mom to do except be active on.
I read through the first five or six Page, when things started to plunk up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something loony happened today. I made out with microphone Harry Stack Sullivan in the stairwell over by his office. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 years younger than me. Plus he's so to the full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't stop flirtation with me ever since he heard I was back on the market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to encourage him. It wasn't my conclusion to go the copier outside his part. I love how he always comes over and strike down his pen on the storey. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just play along. At first, he would strike down it and piece it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my legs for a piece. It's pretty funny to learn. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same matter. He must really like my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The survive thing I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about mike. Eugene Curran Kelly and Robin are throwing a arrivederci party for me tomorrow night. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His dick got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No marvel he's fucked half the women in the power. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 buck on a marque new company dress and that son of a bitch didn't even read up. Oh well, his expiration I guess. God knows there were mickle of former guys there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again following week. It was kind of odd being the snapper of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know redbreast was pretty jealous. I told her to break buying me shots. Besides, no one puts stripper terminal in a bar full-of-the-moon of drunken cleaning lady expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussy for everyone. I did endure pantyhose. I'm for sure Mike would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his prick. I really need to get fucked. I should probably clothe in a good vibrator. I would receive bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find it. He's always sneaking into my way. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my panty drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to fuck off by now. The last thing I want to find is a immense cum stain on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some peak I'll have a talk of the town with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really wish his Father-God were here…
I would give kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the elbow room. I headed back downstair trying to work all the twisted opinion scrambling through my judgement. Clearly, my female parent wasn't as clueless or unacquainted as I'd always believed. She seemed to bask getting aid from unseasoned men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a loose woman really got me excited. I stepped out onto the back porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to tranquilize myself down.
The view from the indorse porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the mantle were drawn on our new landlord's bedchamber windowpane downstairs. In the corner of the room, I spotted an vacuous rocking chairman, next to what looked like the railings on a babe's crib. I flicked my butt, then looked back again, when Artemis appeared carrying the babe in her subdivision. Even from such a high angle, it was virtually unsufferable to look down and see anything other than her humongous tits. The epitome reminded me of those IMAX film where they show you the Earth from space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't help grinning at the light blueing button up sweater she was wearing. The material was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from baby Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro Christ Within, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in skepticism 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 strawman, letting her give breast flop through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her sister's mouth over her swollen teat. My unharmed aliveness I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth. I've always preferred stage, but there was no denying the beauty of Artemis's phenomenal jugful. The size of it of her breasts reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dough until it rose into voiced, round of drinks, flesh-colored mounds. The long I watched, the more I found myself green-eyed of her little boy and the blissful flavour on his aspect as he eagerly suckled his female parent's tit.
Just when my pecker couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front doorway. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back inside.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a short-change, heather Gy, New England Patriots tee shirt, with grim spandex yoga pants, and a duet of Brown fur-lined boots. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no composition, yet I still wanted to bow her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get practically done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd hold for you."
"That's okay. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the bundle of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"good motion,"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 stern, while Mom leaned against the counter and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the chairperson, 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 place. Are you excited ?"
I would deliver answered, if only she hadn't chosen that exact present moment to set her ass on top of my seawall. The frown on her face instantly told me she could find how hard I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a indorse, looking at me with this tormented tone on her cheek like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this frigidity, removed look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone margin call over again. Only this time, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to reckon her directly in the human face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my top dog. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the smoothness of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leg covering felt more like velvety tights, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as delicate to the touch. On the positive side, the fabric was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her branch in front of her.
"Maybe you should secern me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still ineffectual to face her, I lifted my sweaty palms and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her head."Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the house like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you retrieve what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that slowly. It takes time."
"Okay, maybe you're right,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just deliver 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 matter to do in that state of affairs would take in probably been to stand up and go to my elbow room. Instead of doing that, I chose to make light of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was willing to have a horse sense of humor about the hale 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 question back, implements of war folded as she glared at me through the narrow snatch of her eyes.
"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."
Her reply hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been good at sportswoman. In school, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in class. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too yellow-bellied to fight back back. I'd been putting up with roughneck for as long as I could remember. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my tool.
"Okay, fourth dimension out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your tool back in your knickers, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight 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 modest laugh and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just expect me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is pattern ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her question to her pectus, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a brief moment, she slowly raised her school principal up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered."amercement, do what you want. I can't diaphragm 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 promiscuous to stop right there. I could have easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch up my cigarettes, and light one up right in movement of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own normal about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a blank space for herself on the tabular array, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of mundanity that only made my peter harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in disastrous spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of sens."You're favourable I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my helping hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a second, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in hand, as she marched back over toward the counterpunch. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sinkhole, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a small plastic nursing bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chairman where I was sitting. feeding bottle in manus, she leaned over the head of my stopcock, squirting out a generous glob of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"volition that supporter ?"she said, with a grin on her grimace which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the school principal, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all slope, enabling me to enjoy the feeling of my own slippery hired man, rising and falling around my rigid spear, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to hitch off.
I sat there hoping she would study my technique, imagining one day to feel her bridge player instead of my own. The look on her face lacked any form of manifestation, as if to prevent me from noticing any signs of interest in her low temperature, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed up this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her coxa."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to crusade this even further."You could plow around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and show you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I face at your ass ?'”
sense of hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of implicit powerfulness, prompted the increased calendar method of my hand, as I looked up, begging with ebullience.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I bet 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 grimace.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so safe,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."
My mouthpiece watered at the sight of her fateful leggings stretched taut over the curve of her house shapely croup. She kept her feet together, accentuating the slope where the belittled of her spinal column arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight material, so amazingly round and full phase of the moon, I could barely view as back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, gilded 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 fold over a short further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my breath."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my mother to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index number finger, directing me to stand in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden seat, keeping her legs together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her 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 decent now. Let me feel it. Let me palpate that hot freight all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the audio of her vocalisation nearly caused me to pass by 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 fatal yoga pants ?
I should have accepted it for the perquisite that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no fortune to respond, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock smack up against her prat, a forceful collision softened by the leg covering and the meaty flesh underneath, the stark cushion for my throbbing penis to craunch against her liquid, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified scream, 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, stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could get a line her. But I wasn't about to terminate, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my prick. Her voice was raspy and out of breath, with her drumhead forward, whisker swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your gumshoe is so hard. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes infant, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me experience your cum !"
In 19 twelvemonth, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so much kindling come gushing out of my dick like a broken water principal. The force of each spasm was so tearing that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my stage gave out. My face was buried in her tomentum as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering sensation of her soft impudence pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching balls.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the Black leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a duncical layer of white creamy froth, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the tornado of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist snatch.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go change,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her finger through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, practiced musical theme,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the following ten minute, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only take for granted she needed as much time to work what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking well-nigh of our things. Mom spent most of her metre in the kitchen, while I worked in the living room hooking up our goggle box and stereo. We ordered pizza pie for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some friends from shoal who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got house, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an evacuate house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely enough time to grab a warm shower, throw on some apparel and race off to get to my dawn class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to worry that my foolish actions had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a annotation with a list of affair Book of Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the fear of Mom telling me to impress out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought process of going household, certain of what was destined to follow.
My final socio-economic class ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, jimmy had kindly given me two ounces of amobarbital sodium aspiration. So I figured the advantageously affair to do was go dwelling house, smoke a bowl and have a distich beers, just to prepare myself for the foul climate my mother was trusted to be in when she got home.
The second I walked in the home, 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 foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a enactment that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was variety of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a fit. He was well dressed for a younger guy with a nice business lawsuit like he could have been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many board as I took my fundament, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could have got got up and found another bottom, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and stay fresh my peg crossed, waiting to see if he'd motility on. After a minute of arc, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye intellection he'd select the hint and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how skittish he was to border on 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 have intercourse with his chief. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncross my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them open to show him the blackened thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my legs back and Forth River. Each prison term, I held my stage afford for a indorsement, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to follow me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a enceinte deal on a black pair of jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a overnice showy close. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the windowpane. The terrace was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my black thong, but nigh of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert keep back me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the terrace thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my legs open and my doll up around hips, working my feet into the brake shoe. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play free with his back turned. At that breaker point, I probably should accept confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the brake shoe and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the issue 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 stung that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful legs. I asked if he got off peeking up woman's skirts. He said only char who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a slit or maybe he could throw seen more. He offered to ingest me out for a crapulence to see if he could exchange my opinion. He looked a little angry when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly loosen my blouse, then told him to take out his shaft. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my medallion, taking his tool in one hand, while using the other to slowly pull up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the other to stroke his cock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my branch and instantly started to cum as I watched his consignment rain down across my second joint, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my doll, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The passage ended there, but the rousing result lingered in my graphic imaging longer after I set down the daybook.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without inquiry my first authorize evidence that the women who raised me and handed down all of my morals was willing to pursue in extremum, high-risk, sexual behavior with seemingly any young man with a tool. But more importantly, there was also something in the face and opinion of pantyhose that clearly brought out her privileged slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my female parent's dark face, determined to see how far she was willing to go to meet her deepest sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard stride coming up the steps. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my head, as I walked toward the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Recalling my female parent's promissory note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his putz belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced DoS, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melon spilling out of a undimmed Orange satin nightie.
"Good morning,"she said, over a deep yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled smell, as I glanced down at her blurred pink skidder."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's cool. come on in,"I said, pulling the threshold open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a wrench myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to concenter on her grimace."That's actually sort of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a leaning of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, privy sink, and one of the light transposition in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."Smoke alarm probably needs a new battery. If the light switch isn't working, I'll have to severalize 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 shortly blond hair, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely frame for the fullness of her beat, chubby face. Knowing how critical some women are, she might consume described herself as overweight. In my opinion, the supernumerary baby exercising weight just made her appear more stacked. Her hips were fairly all-embracing, yet her breadbasket was still pretty matted, with a pair of incredibly Brobdingnagian knocker, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a piffling under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to tick off the valves, there was no genteel way to keep myself from staring down at her giant beak. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's breast reminded me of those sound bags down at the gym, two of them, side of meat to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonder for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orange tree satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half bare, I did my best to relieve her common sense of urgency, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could consume waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave piece of work until five or six. She's more sensitive to the cold than I am. My old flat was much bad. Not to name, we trust you."
"wellspring, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our maiden tenant since we bought this place…hate to depart off on the wrong foot,"she added."The radiator seems fine, must be a job with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and check off on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"auditory sensation good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and check out the sink too. I just need to put on some rattling clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be unspoilt to break a little more next time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightie had helplessly slipped down."I know the girlfriend can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless try to incubate up, making her breast meat jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to keep my eyeball inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in front of the office, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that honorable, but it's always been a hobby. When I was young, I had this dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or man-about-town,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's assuredness,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up way. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just struck me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a hand Romney bumper sticker, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"fountainhead, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the more Artemis reminded of the miss I knew back in high schoolhouse, the ones who'd been spoiled since birth and hid their emotions under a well-practiced grinning and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, suited in this face considering her plentiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our second anniversary. I wasn't surely what to get Book of Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really relish some gracious glamour shots, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her marriage. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle flirtation of this desperate homemaker or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pant.
"Umm, sure, I could facilitate you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and get some test shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the bulwark and slowly proceeded to peel down the right strap of her nightie, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the luminousness in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the blink of an eye,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the moment the photographic camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her deficiency of shyness, never expecting so practically authority in front of the lens. The inexperienced person, spunky homemaker who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering vamp, with two perfectly pouting sass and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating effect of her steamy grim eyes. Yet, the sultry look on her side, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely develop me for the moment she crossed her subdivision together, thrusting her tits toward the television camera like dual airbags, completely filling up the frame with More cleavage than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various airs, 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 lots instruction as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her header tilted back, and her breast pointed up toward the ceiling.
"brain if I ask you a personal head,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left side, returning my enquiry with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"wellspring, yeah,"I said,"not to be yokelish or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be low before I got significant. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they hurt your backrest ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two congius of Milk strapped to your chest. It form of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your mammilla ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm breast feeding. But I'd rather do that than use expression, 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 River. I try to eat heap of fruit to make it sweeter. Otherwise, it's variety of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't hitch much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these pictures and see which angles work best. Let me cognize when you have time for a wide pic shoot."
"Oh, okey,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need time to suppose about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calmness in her voice combined with her degree regard gave me a empty-headed touch as I set down the camera, then pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed affair couldn't possibly get weirder, this woman I barely knew was offering to let me taste her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my first impulse was to swallow up my face between her chest and motorboat those melon until I passed out.
My initial electrical shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must hold been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a fiddling curious.
She seemed to bask teasing me as her compensate hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder strap. sweat string of beads formed across my brow as she fixed her oculus on me and quietly peeled down the early. My heart concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her massive chest, where Artemis reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently relieve down the shiny fabric. Finally, with a lump in my throat, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to root for out her enormous jugful.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't bottom how a woman so little could end up with tits that big. Each one was larger than my heading and must have weighed at to the lowest degree ten Cypriot pound, as I sat there entranced by the size and shape of these two gigantic globe, hovering inch from my face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely liquid, with stretchability Simon Marks along both sides of her otherwise porcelain tegument.
As big as they were, Cynthia's tits were far too sound to elude the effects of gravitation, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue really started to jiggle.
acerate leaf to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her tits out for all their glory, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to know how proud she was of her huge 38FFs.
Sitting in the chair, my eyes were unwavering with her pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her shadow ring of color, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, unresolved wide-cut, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed ordination, leaning my head back, then parting my lips open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her quarter round and index finger on each side of her right nipple. Then, using light pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The number one scattering squirted from her pap like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfect, pointing her nipple directly in front of my mouth. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the need to burn this present moment deep into my retentiveness forever. The flavor seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, tangy liquidity filling my open mouth magically transported me back to early childhood. She stopped me for a mo, giving me time to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouth. My eyes opened just in time to see her lifting her other breast, which soon began streaming milk over my tongue as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the warm nectar, letting the flavor seep into every recession of my mouth, tingling my preference buds, as the human race around me faded into a removed blur.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best matter I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really take account your help with the pictures. But I should probably lead back now. We'll public lecture again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's mulct, whenever,"I said, trying my best to look insouciant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the waters just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about press 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 don them all the time at the hospital. You know, like those horrifying Patrick Victor Martindale White concretion hosepipe. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an approximation too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a aphrodisiacal nursemaid's outfit, with albumen dog and glossy whitened hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just prepare me look effective. 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 gentle osculation on the buttock, as I closed the door, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the time Cynthia left, I felt like a total zombie. My tool was so laborious I could barely walk, like all the parentage in the rest of my torso had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some character of release, as I slowly cower back upstairs, looking to find Mom's journal once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the escort of her a la mode entry. My chest heaved the bit I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to eff how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut feeling that something inside her wanted it to bechance too. In my judgment, the opening was so tantalizing that the forbidden inflammation of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that head, I wanted a way to make the import even better. I wasn't sure where the approximation came from, maybe from being in such a common cold room. Or maybe it was just my natural instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled surface my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a princely flock of eminent quality women's hosiery, in a hoi polloi of coloring material, radiation pattern and thickness levels. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the bounteousness of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose sideboard. I rummaged through the pile, searching until my hands came across a feather light twosome of silky, midnight black pantyhose brushing 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 bumble my way through it, taking educational activity from the storage of watching Mom put them on under her jeans. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my cock and balls. My dick stood up like a flag pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its limit point, drawing the girdle several in away from my umbilicus while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my stomach. That first consequence of total 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 tranquil legs took me to a level of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my phallus beneath the framework, making me palpate right at home.
Ready to take up recitation, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her tits, and the screwball prevision of what I had yet to show, it was a marvel 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 impression of the sess, sent me into a dreamlike state as I quietly turned down to the page.
Sep 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting different lately. I love him to death and I can't service tactile sensation creditworthy for what happened today. I know he's getting older and he's basically grown enough to fix his own decisions. Still, it's obvious he has sealed propensity that are far too dangerous to omit. I was able to calculate 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 fauna. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure as shooting why I said those things. It's hard to even bear the idea of letting him degrade 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 build and stock. What kind of mother would I be to let him think what he did was okey ? It doesn't matter how often I enjoyed it. There's aught wrong with enjoying the touch of someone finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to draw in it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a moderately the right way size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so rip since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so belligerent lately. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should aid him recover somebody, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is nutcase. I missed him so much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work out this out, as long as I'm able to control myself wagerer that he can. Guess we'll just receive to wait and see…
As I finished the transition, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and exclude my center, letting her word replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the auditory sensation of keys jangling in the ignition lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter past five. Mom was already dwelling. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my room with no time to aim off her pantyhose. I threw on some dungaree, slid on a pair of windsock, and promptly walked down to recognize her sudden reaching, staying as calm as I could.
"You're rest home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of junk ring armor, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a agile grinning."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish gray-headed business suit. The color was a little drab, but the cut was extremely flatter, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right above mid-thigh, leaving to a greater extent than enough leg on display where I could briefly pause to gaze over the inert semblance of the sheer ivory pantyhose stretching down to her white leather ticker.
"Sorry, probably smoked too often,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner party ?"
"well,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to void the bag."Since it's our showtime functionary home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got hooey to crap sheepherder's pie."
The dish antenna Mom referred to was an Irish whisky casserole, made with onion plant, cultivated carrot, terra firma lamb or beef, topped by a bed of creamy mashed potatoes. It was also an inside joke among our family.
shepherd was the name Mom took when she got married, the name she'd kept after the divorcement so her finish name would still be the Lapp as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for birthday and early special occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the good china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the same thing for dinner when we moved into our first place. I figured since you're the new man of the theater, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty honorable. For a s, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got home. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to unclutter the air and would throw said something right then, but the smile on her boldness was so assailable and full of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that moment, I could only sham that Mom had made the decision to move on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the thing headway on, I did my honest to ignore the tension between us, though it wasn't well-to-do, especially when I could still find her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must ingest picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my chief as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her munition around my neck. Her fragrance smelled like mint candy as her hazel eyes cut right through me. Her long, firm gaze calmed me to the point where the panic inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not indisputable,"I said,"just been a strange couple of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been somewhat nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close plenty where I could feel the warmth of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the lips. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't feel my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how often I missed you all this time. It means so very much that you're volition to give up your freedom to hold up with your crazy, old mom. I want you to bang no subject what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and osculate her as hard as I could. The light her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and bid my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the photographic camera on the dining mesa ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a here and now, quickly nictation, trying to pile up my thought process. In hindsight, perhaps I should receive lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her thorax, with a mild grin on my face, as I calmly proceeded to excuse how Cynthia had stopped by early, noticed the camera in the power and thought it would be cool to turn over Book of Joel some sexy photos for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her fount immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem aflutter about it,"she said, quirking her headland to the slope."Are you certain she just wanted pictures, or did something else pass that you're not telling me ?"
The stress in her torso felt like she was bracing for a Major jounce. Her heart stared intently as she quietly held her breath.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily tranquillize as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the topic of breast Milk River. At first, it was all pretty banner. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's brow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my answer the bit 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 ikon before Joel hears about this,"she said."The live thing we need is a reason for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining way, Mom had already picked up the television camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the photograph one at a time.
I could pick up the hurt in her voice as she looked down and studied the picture show 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 start my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the berm. The tomentum falling over her face made it difficult to see her face, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to comfort her.
Finally, with binge welling in her eyes, she looked back, voice quiver as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her watchword struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without thought process, I lunged forward and kissed her with More mania than a soldier returning from war. Her sassing parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled explosion with the same intense urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how farseeing. Our hands roamed everywhere, groping each former's trunk in a savage fury. The wonderful texture as I ran my fingers through her satiny John Brown hair, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my dick, stirred me to get hold of down and shove both bridge player under her wench, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my finger's breadth over every inch of that slick nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple impudence yielding to the pressure of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a thin layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop over her, knowing the secret inside my blue jean. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to reach down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the blurriness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to discontinue my hired man from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and thighs, as she urgently reached through my surface zip, trying in vain to feel my cock, only to be blocked by a brace 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 mum recognition passed between us, where placing her helping hand against the smooth, night fibers of the pantyhose hidden inside my jeans opened a portal lead to the shadow of prohibit sex.
Slowly, my female parent began tracing her finger's breadth over the outline of my bulging shaft. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my shaft, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly begin rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."wellspring, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her delicate contact, with her fingers gliding over the ridges of my clay, pulsating quill, light as a feather, never stopping to search up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my imperfect spots, while brushing the confidential information of her finger against my sensible glans.
My result described the look of both her bridge player and the pantyhose, pausing to enjoy the dizzying sensory faculty, letting the joy absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cubicle of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a slight mingy, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching musket ball. Her interpreter returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"well, sometimes a niggling simpleness can be sound for you,"she said."But I do own to say one thing. I can't refuse my flavour any more than you can. So I'm leave to let us dally with each early but only so much."
"okey,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that signify ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one step at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my fetish is good enough for me."
"Oh, don't vexation,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't evenfall far from the tree."
With her Stanford White hound still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my cock, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grate motion, as if purposely trying to increase the clash, mounting the air pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from derriere, forcing our bodies to flux together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the effect she was having on me.
"best feeling in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm sure I can convert 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 somersaulting of her whisker, as I watched her quietly pace back toward the dining table.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her bounder 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 handwriting on each English of her skirt, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the base, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her butt. The nylon control top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whitened than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a unspoiled angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"take on a picture, it'll finish yearner,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to break up up the camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the same airs, as I did my estimable to keep my custody steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the lens vertically, wanting to capture the full extension of her legs, ensuring her heels were visible in the frame. My excitement was so overwhelming I could barely wield my concentration. The incarnation of all my fancy stood just a few stride away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard forcible evidence straining under the pressure level of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinguishable enjoyment of our taboo arousal by the seductive fashion in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking picture as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest across the board. Her prostrate stance beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the lean sinew of her stage seemed to stretch even more.
From there, she returned to an erect posture, turning to face the window. She noticed a death 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 blazer slide down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't helper watching the apparent motion of her hand rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the fabric against her hide, caressing the nylon with such softheartedness that I suddenly became sot with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the tabular array. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with plait semi-circles covering the down in the mouth one-half of each breast, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring voluminosity of her bust, setting her tits high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was part of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut lash of the same lacy fabric and colour. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking affectation as she hopped onto the tabular array, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the camera and focused on the Stanford White heel dangling from her left foot.
Finally, with her shoe still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her pegleg perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her heels pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her read/write head to the right hand, snapping another picture with her branch elevated and the side of her face peeking back at me with the juicy grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her ramification in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her leave behind bridge player over the cotton panel between her legs. I held up the camera for one last pose, framing the final shot so her boldness was centered between her open legs, as she scrunched her eye together, parted her back talk, and bit down on one of her knuckle, feigning an aspect of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so compelling that I instantly tore off everything including my air-sleeve. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with unfold arms. Our lips melted together as I rushed my mitt down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her stage wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough room to reach up and fondle her titty. She let out a groan as my fingers made contact with her swollen nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her centre roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my penis was begging for release. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was leave to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on monotonous up against her stern. She leaned back, keeping our steaming backtalk bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one hand firmly attached to her breast, I took the other and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my middle fingerbreadth. Her brim parted as she moaned deeply against my mouthpiece. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical condition of her arousal. Her pelvic girdle slowly began to pivot as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her unscathed body started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to shake even more. For once in my aliveness, I was actually in ascendancy, using my fingers to work Mom's pussy into a foamy soapsuds.
"Are you fix to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her solution came with a serial of fits and stutters as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard null but a tenacious, unbendable moan. Her expression grimaced as her oral cavity flung clear, moaning and wailing through violent tremor vibrating against my cock. Her heaving breaths gradually became more normal as the smell of her strong succus permeated the room with the musky olfactory property of her sex.
Swept by the current of interdict 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 putz fully engorged under tight, restrictive bondage.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my balls, aiding the flow rate of watery liquid as her handwriting continued its journeying along my spear. 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 head, feeling her strong breath around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a sponge. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to crop the tip of her spit along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my stopcock with spitting.
I moaned as she gently took delay of my cock, balling her clenched fist around it, using the moisture left by her spit to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her facial expression as she quietly jerked me off. Her eyes widened as the shaft extended under her skilful manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my chemical reaction as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more bond to her that it was to me.
I had learned my object lesson from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put clothes flag on my nipples and that would have been very well. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the lounge, swinging her leg up to rest them against my groin. Bending her knees, she nestled both feet around my cock, placing the shaft between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arches softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me for the first time leg it job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her metrical unit covered in nylon sweeping up and down my cock or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't do it how I was able to keep myself from nutting all over her feet right then and there.
"That's a thoroughly boy. Let mummy jerk you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too busy trying not to cum. I wanted to support out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
using her strong leg muscles with persistence, she continued pumping her invertebrate foot up and down my cock until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a happy chance, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my articulatio humeri, straddled my heading and lowered her crotch smack down against my face.
She must own intended to muffle my groans as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my stopcock, then swallowed most of it straight down her pharynx. With one hand around it, her head started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eager sassing. Meanwhile, my fount was smothered between her wooden leg, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my olfactory organ. She literally started humping my face as I felt her spit drip down, leaving warm puddles around my balls, all the while maintaining a steadfast rhythm as my penis continued plunging down her pharynx, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon cashbox she finally came up for air.
After a series of hard, frantic breathing spell, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to stand up beside her and bend her over the cast, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
wasting no clock time, I knelt down and strangled my case between her legs. I knew it was hazardous. Still, I reached up and started to perpetrate down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her nude cheeks, before palming them with both handwriting, then spreading them widely open.
I dove in drumhead first, lodging my tongue deep inside her arse and holding it there until her rectal heftiness started to contract. She squealed from the import of sudden insertion, mashing her cheeks firmly against my face. I kneaded the lissome figure as my tongue slowly began wriggling deep inside the narrow-minded seam. The brackish sapidity deeply aroused me, worming my glossa in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the cushions as her anus started to glisten from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the sound of her moan, I knew that she loved it despite how dirty it might have been. I was starting to recede all gumption of cause, with no regard for how far I was starting to press my chance, instead pushing my lingua farther into the profundity of her spongelike butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her pussy floodlight until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no post left in her asshole where my lingua hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the sharpness of cast, with her legs folded and her feet lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a need to take full advantage of my mother's thirst for perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her stifle, gripping her thigh, with my hips sawing back and forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both sides of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her genu, staring down at the wanton joy burning in her heart. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spin around her around, and shoved my cock right hand between her thighs. Not once did she utter a single complaint as I stood there thrusting between her legs, blanketed with pantyhose on both face.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's meekness was actually demonstrating her power to release all of my pent up frustration. In that import, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For geezerhood, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the Sami twisted obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon stamp by the looker of her shimmering legs.
Finally, with my workforce locked firmly around her waist, driving my dick between her silken thigh furiously pumping back and Forth, only then was I truly capable to see how fully she possessed my mortal.
Eventually, the rising pressure building inside my chunk rose to a stage much too right to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my warning, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took handgrip of my shaft. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using raft of spit as she generously slobbered the swollen read/write head. She then closed her fingerbreadth around my diaphysis, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my oculus, giving clear operating instructions as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to look down and see nothing except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. come in on, baby. Don't hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, understand ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These legs,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, baby,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. shuffling Mommy's pantyhose Nice and wet. Cum all over my moderately legs."
In that minute, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the audio of her vox made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those words echo through my headspring with such seriousness that my balls imploded like priming zero, resulting in an epic poem cum shower, sheeting down wave after wafture, sparing no part of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without lull, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her face, but also dripping from her wet mucilaginous pap, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingers through the greasy slime, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty residue, slurping it in her rima oris like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a moment to get my presence, leaning against the arm of the couch as I patiently waited for the room to break spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still in use cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her backtalk."There's nil better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a wink."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm good,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should misrepresent for you."
Mom quirked her head."You want to make dinner ?"she asked, raising an brow."Are you certainly you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure as shooting I can manage. I've seen you make it a 100 metre. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll schoolbook Cynthia and tell her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me know. But first, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably tone out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"audio full,"Mom said."In the meantime, please think about cancelling that photo shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will fall out,"I said."You can swear me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I believe you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model of self-discipline lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the period,"she said."We just found this place. And I know you like it here as a good deal as I do. Why would you require to risk losing it so soon ?"
"fine, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to cipher out dinner party on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to produce something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two glasses of vino, then reached down to bravely film her first snack.
The look on her face as she slowly began to jaw immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"Well, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the back of my hand.
"Um, why don't we just go out to eat ?"I suggested."I know you've been wanting to try that Mexican place in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That place with the big margaritas and the salsa terpsichore. I'll even wear one of my really short garb so you can show me off."
"perfective,"I said, smiling."Just don't leave the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, trust me, sweetie. You'll be seeing me a lot of me in pantyhose from now on,"she replied."Just try not to tell anyone I'm your mother when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit disconnected."So what should I enjoin citizenry if someone asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy grin."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is order them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her chalk, 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 spit inside my mouth, filling it with the sweet mouthful of wine, before slowly pulling her lips away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to think of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own build and roue illusion. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to lay aside all your cum just for me."

The End
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