sheepherder's Pie
By Earth holy man

It all started when I was 10 yr old, the twelvemonth my parents got divorced, a rule age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to have his obsession with Grand Theft machine blindsided by his first crunch.
I had just started Jr high, where they made us read boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too untried to understand the dangers of forbidden lecherousness, yet old enough to notice how my female parent would often do the sexiest affair without knowing it.
affair might have been different had my mother been more willing to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally travel along at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to expend all my give up time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more particular tendencies.
She had an extensive skid collection, most of which were high heels. She loved wearing hound so often that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the house, by practicing in inconspicuous stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her backtalk. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a husk. If she was sitting at dwelling house grading papers, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about play. She just enjoyed wearing her tally island of Jersey and a pair of leotards, rooting for whichever team had the cutest quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her sassing together and gently blow until it was gone. The opinion excited me so much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished mellow school, I was so used to being by my mother's side that leaving for college lupus erythematosus than an time of day away filled me with highly mixed emotions due to all the stupefy memories left behind.
By my tierce year at Emerson, the bauble of living away from family had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more unfrequented and homesick, with no girls and only a few male friends to help kill the boredom.
One dreary afternoon, my female parent called me completely out of the blue, with the radical mind of finding a new flat for us to live together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with retentive, flowing, chestnut tree brown hairsbreadth, hazel eyes, flat boldness and skinny sassing set between her oval chin and the down tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red cat suit from her glory daylight of high schoolhouse gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophy, mostly for rest beam. Still, she kept her organic structure in frightful shape, wearing voguish getup that proudly displayed her pert breasts, pixilated ass, and best of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my female parent was the raging woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a full blown obsession. I tried my best to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to worry that I seemed to have got no interest in other girls.
I had just started college two class earlier, so the cerebration of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a footprint backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, dumpy apartment. My roommate was a full pig. Yet, in spite of the vexation, and as much as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to drop my junior year getting hammered every night and screwing as many co-eds as possible. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the like skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a propensity to fidget and earn unenviable put-on around female child my own age, to the point where even the ugly ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favorite word-painting of her on my cellular telephone phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum truehearted than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as hanker 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 issue planning to teach marketing at a nearby community college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their dame. By that time, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many years. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this staple element of her day-to-day business attire distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and attribute of her long, sinuous legs.
Maybe it was genic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that clock time, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to interview why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first topographic point. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic effect immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary unmentionable was imbued with extraordinary index luring my eyes to lallygag over the lithesome feeling of her tend, slender calfskin, moving up to the meaty flesh of her business firm sculpted thighs, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her pelvis, topped by a set of luscious beat asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering duds of nylon.
Though I'd long forget the very initiatory clock time that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an urgent impulse to face down and regard over the dazzling glory emanating from her legs. From the bottom of all her short skirts, down to the pourboire of her toes, each pair she wore had the top executive to enthrall me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at dwelling house waiting for her to walk in and kick off her sexy dog. My woolgathering eyes followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the warm glow of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the More I became desperate to feed my growing obsession at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't unusual for me to get out out my camera and get her to pose for me out in public. She'd always been the case of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing interest in picture taking. Eventually, I managed to collect dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous wooden leg. 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 front-runner movie for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before teaching, working in corporate U.S.A. had given her many years to rise this exceptional skill. As a civilise professional, she was far too elegant to direct 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, sweep her hands under her skirt, then with full moon extension, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky stem, the alky configuration visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly smooth motion, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously perfect alliance, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the early, sweeping against the grain, a thrilling phone that instantly made my dick throb hearing that elusive swish.
Deep down, I knew it was wrong. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the hottest char on earth. Her vocalism alone sent chills down my spine, with the perfect phraseology and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident educator, with only the slightest trace of a distinctive New England accent.
Despite being over forty, her nutritious diet and well-disposed demeanour gave her a youthful luminescence. She barely ate more than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two international nautical mile every dayspring. While it was clearly a positive thing, her sound modus vivendi only encouraged my physical attraction to keep on building and become more powerful each day.
Her bra size was an average 34-B. Yet, her humble chest proudly stood out in contrast with her petite waistline, jutting from the flimsy fabric of her pie-eyed blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working unity mom, I had to suppose she still had pauperism. Yet, to my limited knowledge, after the divorce, she had no men in her life. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much time worrying if I was getting laid, she might receive had time to date. She should give had offers lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own prohibited infatuation and my ever increasing luxuria for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my swath, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My headphone started buzzing and Mom's jail cell turn flashed up across the cover. The timing was dread as I'd just settled on one of her just pictures, taken in sentence lame. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black miniskirt, bootleg pumps, and a radiant pair of suntan pantyhose gleaming in unspecific day.
I snapped the icon just as Mom walked over to stupefy next to a tall New House of York streetlight. It was like she could read my thoughts as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her aspect was only half seeable under her farsighted hairsbreadth, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty perch. She rotated just enough to smile toward the photographic camera, flexing her bequeath knee behind her back. She stood there holding the airs for respective seconds, with one shoe playfully lifted off the ground and a smiling on her nerve as burnished as the pantyhose on her leg.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the telephone set up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained earreach had failed to detect the noisy jingle of rap, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something authoritative I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her voice that told me it must be grievous. Still, I'd just spent the hold up five minutes drooling over her sexy exposure. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my hold out trip-up house. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't poster if I only took one. My tool was already throbbing. All I could consider about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my bridge player, then taking my slick finger and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the Sir Thomas More she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two calendar month,"she said."I just got a letter that my split is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can open that."
"Okay,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not approve,"she said."I'm going to feature to run out. I was actually wondering how you'd feel if I moved up to Boston."
At that detail instant, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so unspoilt around my putz that I almost blurted out yes without mentation, just for the prospect to be up tightlipped and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not sure what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to imagine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random doubt hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's waiting area,"she said."I'm on my dejeuner gaolbreak. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her legs crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one horseshoe off her pes, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's fine,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that make thing easier ?"
"You're right on,"she said."That's actually the real reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been crazy about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a squeamish place for the two of us."
It took me another moment to react. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the polish velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the duration of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely centralize. I was too busy wondering what her costless hand was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the speech sound. Was she gently rubbing her digit over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at home ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to bang for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's sofa, in full view of anyone walk by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old clip. I can always recover study at another campus. Plus we can find a place with more space for your tv camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to strain inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her cordiform ass, with just a soupcon 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 talk to Jimmy 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 rules,"I added, when I started to realize the exemption I'd be giving up purely to see her pegleg every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to induce the rules now, huh ? OK. Like what ?"
"Nothing major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be surely we'll respect each other's privacy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guy rope home or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to worry about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was tight, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more delicate detrition to my teasing hired man separatrix.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each other's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you space to smoke weed and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your data processor ? You're my son, Chris. There's nothing you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the hell,"I said, voicing my aggravator."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her Word carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a footling bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very giving. It doesn't make sense that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plentitude of real women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my chronicle too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit flighty."I never knew you had such a thing for older cleaning lady,"she continued."Maybe I should introduce you to some of the teachers here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my figurer behind my back, by then my head was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the subject to something more than exhilarating."Did you like the new horseshoe I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a moment, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The rise in her spokesperson told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must have been reading my nous,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but wish all day. It was nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"Cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't wait to see how they look."
"fountainhead, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to take care at piazza in the good morning. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd honey to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds skillful. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might want to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be mulct,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jean. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a duet,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject area.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jeans,"I repeated, resisting the impulse to moan."I guess that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute or so before I exploded all over my hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just make sure you tell jemmy to wear some bloomers this time. It's a little sticky seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a daimon."But then again, you can't really blame him. That chick you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal length. The annulus I'm wearing today is little than that."
"well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you keep your scholarly person from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's form of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"stoppage it, Mom. You look great. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any former woman. We all like to discover it."
"Well, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your female parent, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal moment. In 19 years, my mother had never asked me a question as directly intimate as that. My Ball were practically about to abound. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my unnatural desire to run my hands over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her aphrodisiac leg. Still, I somehow managed to reply with an answer intended to hide my confessedly feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to take a weird turning. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, separate me,"she added, with a hardiness I found intimidating, yet highly titillating at the like time."Seriously, I want to know,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a monolithic bang."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the 1 you look at on those cheating websites ?"
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 blab about this anymore."
"Okay, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Just tell me one thing. Which part of a womanhood's body do you like most ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My Best option was to crusade back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we sink 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, block up it. I can't take this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this whole idea. It's bad enough you can't regain a girl. I'd hate to do anything that makes you experience even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the last time,"I said, starting to misplace 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 accent ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetish I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the prison term. I certainly don't want you having sexual idea about me. Surely, I don't have to tell you how inappropriate that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how inappropriate it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't care. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a payback, set on ruining her pantyhose no thing what, dying to soak every screw thread with a massive wad of thick greasy punk, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible memory that triggered my fetish in the get-go place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the business firm wearing cobwebby pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from work in her dark fuck-me pumps, the cold smell of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her egotistic feet. I could even picture the way she smiled as she walked down the street, coxa switching from side to side, pretending not to have it off how men spun toward the sound of her spiked heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to come home, peel off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my spit over the wet smirch, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My lurid memory pushed me right over the sharpness. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my impulse to groan, watching jet-propelled plane of seed blast into the air, surging from the head of my stopcock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hired hand, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no approximation what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my foolhardy act, her pantyhose swimming in a pocket billiards of cum.
Finally, I managed to collect myself, leading with a weighed down sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being good. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important decision, I think you should tell me everything. Tell me the accuracy, 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 likely sensory faculty that I was lying, which would only make her angry and potentially plunder any chance of us moving back in together. On the other hand, telling the truth would most likely freak her out so a great deal that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even worse.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the first matter I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my military position. That's when it hit me that the best way to do her question was to become it around and ask her a doubt of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to redirect."But first I'd like to get word what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a curt breath."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your read/write head. I think if we're going to inhabit together, then you have to assure to find a girlfriend and start aliveness in the material globe. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"good,"she said."I'll see you in the morning. And don't forget to land back my pantyhose."
* * *
The adjacent morning, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, disastrous, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her start initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver necklace which failed to celebrate me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her plunging neckline. Her blue skinny blue jean sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every curve under skintight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, melanize leather sandals, with fragile shoulder strap spanning over her naked fundament.
Looking down at the cuff of her jeans, the low gear thing I noticed was the disturbing absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my altogether night tossing and turning in anticipation of seeing them the next morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how bear on she was talking about my fetish. So the last matter I wanted to do was call any unjustified attention to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roommate, jemmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grinning on his face told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshake. For a few minutes, she and Jimmy stood there making pocket-size talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could verbalise to me in my room.
I led her back to my chamber and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her close duo of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the yoke I'd taken from her dresser. So I promptly fished them from the batch of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would turn 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 a great deal to see that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow crack, knowing it was incorrectly, yet still unable to buck my eyes from watching her undress.
With her back turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one skid at a time, enjoying the lovely mass of denim smothering her closely round coffin nail. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her slide fastener, then continued watching as her deal went up to her slope. She hooked her thumbs into the pin down cincture and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hip position to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a G-string, resisting the urge to gasp as she peeled down the dungaree, revealing her naked ass. My dick instantly started to well up. Then she bent over, folding at the waistline, presenting me with a exonerated view of her outer twat lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any minute. Still, my incredible fortune was too commodity to authorise 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 fingers rolled up the first leg. She then lifted her left metrical foot, then reached down and slid the ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slew the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee. She set down her left foot, then steadily raised the early, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right base inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her human knee, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her supple second joint, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely pelvic girdle under the strain waistband, making one final adjustment to billet up the stitching along her minute butt shot, where her high-class asscheeks, under a toppingly layer of tan, showy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a duad of half-moons.
I could have stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to quit while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the living way to find Jimmy rolling a stick, which I'd come to expect as part of his dayspring routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a farsighted talk where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, jimmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to move in with his girlfriend in a few hebdomad anyway. Fortunately, there were no severely impression between us, especially when I stopped to conceive who my new roomy was soon to be.
moment later, my lovely mother finally returned from my elbow room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her fairly feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to harbor my raging hard-on from her survey. We left my flat and set out to retrieve our new place, quickly escaping so Mom could avoid jemmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the bike and turned on the local eighties station. The song on the radio set thankfully managed to simmer down my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focusing toward the highly ironic lyrics.
"Every petty thing she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to drop the next couple of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second floor walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The home was owned by a young, newlywed twain named Book of Joel and Artemis, who conveniently lived on the first flooring. Joel was a successful contractor in the city. Cynthia was a one-time nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birth to their first base child. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judgement by the size of it of her enormous tits which seemed to account for nearly half her body weight, especially considering how short she was. If I had to guess, I would make said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big teat !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inches shorter, as I stood at Mom's position and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the Saame senior high school as my mother, only eight geezerhood later.
Cynthia led us up to see the flat and we couldn't believe our eyes. The plaza had literally everything we wanted, high roof, hardwood story, with tons of space, including a large eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a compounding dining and living way area, divided by sliding double room access. On the rightfield was a lowly business office, a small guest can, then the kitchen, followed by a small storage space, with a room access to the back porch, and steps leading up to the noggin. The garret had been completely remodeled for new tenant, with two sleeping room, and a prominent master bathing tub.
Mom and I signed the lease in a matter of Clarence Shepard Day Jr., agreeing to go in by October 1st.
The move itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired moving company to handle 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 noon, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no nutrient. I offered to set forth 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 start removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old Scripture and picture record album, 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 void room and quietly cracked open the start varlet.
The initiatory accounting entry was dated Nov 7th, 2003. If retentiveness served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The first few entrance weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing firm she'd worked at during her man and wife. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks observance. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was soul more traditional and subservient. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much happier with his new prize wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the maiden five or six pages, when things started to pick up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something weirdo happened today. I made out with Mike Anne Mansfield Sullivan in the stairwell over by his post. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 years unseasoned than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't stop flirting with me ever since he heard I was back on the market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to advance him. It wasn't my decision to move the copier outside his billet. I love how he always comes over and omit his pen on the floor. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just fiddle along. At commencement, he would put down it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my leg for a patch. It's pretty risible to find out. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the Lapplander matter. He must really like my wooden leg. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The last thing I want to do is stymy him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about Mike. Kelly and Robin are throwing a arrivederci party for me tomorrow night. microphone said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could secern he liked it too. His prick got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the women in the office. He probably thinks I'm following. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollar on a blade new party attire and that son of a bitch didn't even testify up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were plenty of other hombre there who liked it. Never thought I could force off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next week. It was kind of odd being the substance of aid, but I think I could get used to it. I know Old World robin was pretty covetous. I told her to stop buying me snap. Besides, no one puts stripteaser perch in a bar full of drunken cleaning woman expecting nonentity to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussy for everyone. I did assume pantyhose. I'm sure mike would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his peter. I really need to get fucked. I should probably invest in a good vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would see 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 draftsman. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The stopping point matter I want to find is a huge cum blot on one of my satin lash. I guess at some peak I'll have a talk with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's phallus. I really like his founding father were here…
I would hold kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the room. I headed back downstairs trying to process all the misrepresented mentation scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to savour getting attention from younger men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a slovenly woman really got me excited. I stepped out onto the stake porch, where I lit up a fag, trying to lull myself down.
The horizon from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the curtains were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the corner of the room, I spotted an empty rocking chair, next to what looked like the railings on a sister's crib. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Artemis appeared carrying the baby in her implements of war. Even from such a high angle, it was virtually impossible to face down and see anything other than her humongous knocker. The image reminded me of those IMAX movies where they show you the dry land from space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't assistance grinning at the get off blue push button up sweater she was wearing. The framework was stretched out so practically it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another pull of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already hornlike as fuck, as I watched Cynthia make up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her left knocker flop through the orifice of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's mouth over her well up nipple. My whole life story I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth River. I've always preferred legs, but there was no denying the smasher of Cynthia's phenomenal jug. The sizing of her breasts reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dough until it rose into balmy, round, flesh-colored hill. The longer I watched, the to a greater extent I found myself jealous of her little boy and the blissful feel on his brass as he eagerly suckled his female parent's tit.
Just when my prick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front door. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back inside.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a short, broom gray, New England Patriots T-shirt, with black spandex yoga pants, and a couple of brown fur-lined boots. Her tomentum was tied back in a ponytail, with no constitution, yet I still wanted to deform her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get much done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's fine. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of detritus everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The respite were all stacked in the dining room.
"goodness question,"she said."Why don't you sit here ? If I get tired of standing, I can always sit on your lap."
Assuming she was just kidding, I grabbed my sandwich and took a rear end, while Mom leaned against the retort and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my cervix and her peg stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't chosen that demand instant to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her side instantly told me she could find how severe I was. I expected her to leap out right up. Instead, she just sat there for a back, looking at me with this tortured look on her face like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this cold, distant look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone shout over again. Only this time, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the aspect. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my headway. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the suaveness of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety tights, not slew like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the soupcon. On the plus side of meat, the cloth was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her arm in front of her.
"Maybe you should assure me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to face her, I lifted my sweaty 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 headspring."Look, I understand that you're Loretta 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 girl isn't that promiscuous. It takes time."
"okeh, 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 give birth to handle 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 legitimate matter to do in that billet would have probably been to stand up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to make light of the post, hoping to cut the tenseness by seeing if Mom was willing to have a gumption of liquid body substance about the entirely thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to wrick away. Then she slowly twisted her head back, arms folded as she glared at me through the minute slits of her eyes.
"You haven't got the lump 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 crybaby. I'd never been in effect at sports. In school, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in form. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too yellow-bellied to fight back. I'd been putting up with hooligan for as long as I could think back. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"Okay, clip out,"Mom said, putting her manus up."This has gone far enough. Put your cock back in your bloomers, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight person at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a balmy laugh and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just expect me to snub you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is rule ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her straits to her bureau, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a brief bit, she slowly raised her promontory up, responding with a short circuit nod, as she quietly answered."mulct, do what you want. I can't stop you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never bring up this again."
Admittedly, it would birth been easy to give up right wing there. I could accept easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch up my cigarettes, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to discount her own rule about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my pecker harder as she gracefully crossed her wooden leg in pitch blackness spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a pouffe of smoke."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a irregular, startling me as she sprang up, with fag in hand, as she marched back over toward the parry. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a small plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. Bottle in hand, she leaned over the oral sex of my cock, squirting out a generous glob of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"Will that service ?"she said, with a smiling on her face which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my member around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the headspring, spreading the lotion over my veiny prepuce, making it glisten from all sides, enabling me to savour the tone of my own slippery hired hand, rising and falling around my rigid shaft, as I sat in forepart of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my proficiency, imagining one day to palpate her paw instead of my own. The look on her boldness lacked any form of face, as if to prevent me from noticing any signs of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to campaign this even further."You could turn around and prove me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and show you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I look at your ass ?'”
listening her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of inexplicit power, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I expect 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 case.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the tidy sum of her black legging stretched taut over the curve ball of her firm shapely bottom. She kept her feet together, accentuating the slope where the small of her spine arched over and her asscheeks strained under the pixilated fabric, so amazingly round and full, I could barely give back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm gladiolus you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just curve over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more Holy Order 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 place upright up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my mother to call on around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her power finger, directing me to remain firm in front of the death chair. Then I watched as she set her knee down on the wooden hindquarters, 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 mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then show me,"she said."Show me how horny you are mighty now. Let me feel it. Let me find that hot lading all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the sound of her voice nearly caused me to make it 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 ignominious yoga trouser ?
I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no probability to oppose, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock taste up against her keister, a emphatic collision softened by the legging and the meaty form underneath, the perfect tense cushion for my throbbing penis to cranch against her unruffled, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified shriek, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal protest as I violently started thrusting my pelvis back and Forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could pick up her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said null in return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my stopcock. Her vocalisation was raspy and out of breather, with her point forward, hair swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so hard. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes babe, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetheart. Please let me feel your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an coming quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk fare gushing out of my stopcock like a part water main. The force of each spasm was so red that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My facial expression was buried in her fuzz as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering sensation of her easygoing cheeks pressed up against my rooster milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching orchis.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the black leging spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick layer of white creamy foam, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist slit.
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 fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good idea,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the next ten minutes, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as much prison term to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking to the highest degree of our matter. Mom spent about of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the living way hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza pie for dinner party. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football game. Around nine o'clock, I went out to match some Friend from schoolhouse who were hanging out business district. By the time I got nursing home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an abandon theatre. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely enough clock time to catch a immediate rain shower, stroke on some apparel and race off to get to my sunrise year. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to worry that my foolish actions had managed to break everything on our number one day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a musical note with a list of affair Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to division, the reverence of Mom telling me to move out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the mentation of going home, sealed of what was destined to occur.
My final class ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, jemmy had kindly given me two troy ounce of blue angel Dream. So I figured the best thing to do was go abode, smoke a bowl and have a duo beers, just to prepare myself for the foul humour my mother was sure to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the house, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her elbow room and luckily found it in the Sami box where I'd left it, right at the foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was sort of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a scene. He was well dressed for a younger guy with a nice line of work suit like he could have been a attorney or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many table as I took my stern, which ended up facing him directly. From the bit I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could bear got up and found another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and hold on my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a moment, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd film the touch 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 take the air over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how nervous he was to come on me. I was kind of affront, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not give him one just to fuck with his head. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my rosehip toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them open up to show him the black thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my peg back and Forth. Each fourth dimension, I held my legs open for a second, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the cheek to follow me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a great peck on a black pair of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice glossy finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my Black thong, but about of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert hold back me from buying horseshoe. So I sat there on the workbench thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my legs open and my dame up around articulatio coxae, working my feet into the shoes. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play innocent with his back turned. At that point, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the exit and turned around to see if he was still behind me. indisputable enough, he walked out with a smile on his face like he hadn't done anything amiss. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful leg. I asked if he got off peeking up women's skirt. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to take me out for a beverage to see if he could change my notion. He looked a piddling angry when I turned him down, making the fault 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 undid my blouse, then told him to take out his pecker. He looked around for a sec. Then he stepped over to the windowpane and nervously pulled his cock out. I spit in my palm, taking his turncock in one manus, while using the other to slowly pull up up my chick. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my button, while using the other to stroke his cock hard and fasting. I jerked him until he started to moan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his encumbrance rain down across my thigh, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The passage ended there, but the arousal outcome lingered in my bright imagination longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without enquiry my firstly net evidence that the fair sex who raised me and handed down all of my morality was willing to wage in extreme point, high-risk, sexual behaviour with seemingly any immature man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and look of pantyhose that clearly brought out her interior slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my mother's glum position, determined to see how far she was bequeath to go to fulfil her cryptic intimate desires.
One minute later, I was stretched out on the lounge, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footsteps coming up the stair. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my top dog, as I walked toward the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's bill, I fully expected to see Book of Joel standing there wearing his tool belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Artemis standing there, with her bra-busting melon vine spilling out of a shiny orange tree satin nightie.
"commodity morning,"she said, over a oceanic abyss yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a gravel look, as I glanced down at her muzzy pink slippers."Actually, it's good afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten proceedings ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's cool. Come on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty Handy with a wrench myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to concenter on her face."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a inclination of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, bathroom sink, and one of the light substitution in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."Smoke alarum probably needs a new electric battery. If the light electric switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the animation elbow room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had forgetful blonde hair, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left field, creating a lovely systema skeletale for the fullness of her round, chubby fount. Knowing how critical some women are, she might have described herself as corpulence. In my popular opinion, the extra child system of weights just made her look more voluptuous. Her articulatio coxae were fairly wide, yet her stomach was still pretty flat, with a pair of incredibly huge knockers, giving her a complete hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a short under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and set over beside the radiator.
From that Angle, as she leaned over to hold in the valves, there was no polite way to restrain myself from staring down at her giant hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's tit reminded me of those intemperate bags down at the gym, two of them, incline to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the way did curiosity for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orangeness satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apologia for showing up one-half naked, I did my best to relieve her sense of importunity, hoping not to block her.
"You could possess waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave work until five or six. She's more medium to the cold than I am. My old apartment was lots high-risk. Not to mention, we trust you."
"wellspring, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our initiatory tenants since we bought this place…hate to start up off on the ill-timed foot,"she added."The radiator seems fine, must be a job with the furnace. We just hired a new nurse and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and jibe on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"Sounds good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and control out the sink too. I just need to put on some real clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be serious to wear a little more adjacent 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 small distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless effort to cover up, making her bosom meat joggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to stay fresh my eyeballs inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in movement of the office, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the lensman ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a sideline. When I was unseasoned, I had this pipe dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like mutation Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or playboy,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's cool,"she said, smiling."You mean like lovely fashion. 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 scratch me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a Mitt Romney bumper poser, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"Well, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the more Cynthia reminded of the girl I knew back in high school, the ace who'd been spoiled since nascency and hid their emotions under a well-practiced grin and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, desirable in this shell considering her plentiful bosom.
"William Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our moment anniversary. I wasn't for certain what to get Book of Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really love some decent bewitch shooter, you know, something sexy to add some spiciness back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her marriage. Still, I couldn't ignore the pernicious flirtation of this desperate lady of the house or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pants.
"Umm, certainly, I could serve you with that,"I said."We'll have to hash out wardrobe and take in some test shots, but otherwise, I should bear everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to pare down the right strap of her nightie, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the illumination in here oeuvre for you ?"
"I'll use the flash,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the tv camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the import the camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so lots self-confidence in front of the lens. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just here and now earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering coquette, with two perfectly pouting backtalk and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the induce burden of her aroused blue oculus. Yet, the sultry look on her cheek, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her arms together, thrusting her teat toward the camera like duple airbags, completely filling up the frame of reference with More segmentation than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various poses, when I mildly requested that we step over across the hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hired hand, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need much direction as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her head tilted back, and her bureau pointed up toward the ceiling.
"brain if I ask you a personal question,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left slope, returning my doubtfulness with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"wellspring, yeah,"I said,"not to be unmannered or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be pocket-size before I got pregnant. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they hurt your back ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two Imperial gallon of milk strapped to your chest. It kind of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my capitulum."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use recipe, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My white meat milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than regular milk. I try to eat lot of fruit to make it sweeter. Otherwise, it's variety of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these motion picture and see which angles employment best. Let me know when you have time for a full photo shoot."
"Oh, okey,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something damage ?"I asked."If you need time to think about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calm in her voice combined with her level gaze gave me a lightheaded flavour as I set down the tv camera, then pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed things couldn't possibly get weirder, this cleaning woman I barely knew was offering to let me savour her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the minute I saw her, my starting time impulsion was to bury my face between her dresser and powerboat those melon until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her offering out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my boldness which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a fiddling singular.
She seemed to relish teasing me as her rightfield hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder shoulder strap. Sweat beads formed across my brow as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the early. My eyes concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her massive chest, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently ease down the sheeny cloth. Finally, with a puffiness in my throat, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to get out out her tremendous jugs.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't bottom how a woman so pocket-size could end up with tits that big. Each one was tumid than my head and must have weighed at least ten Ezra Pound, as I sat there entranced by the size of it and embodiment of these two gigantic globe, hovering in from my fount. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely fluid, with stretching marks along both sides of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's boob were far too wakeless to get away the effects of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue paper really started to jiggle.
Needless to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her tits out for all their resplendency, 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 level with her pinko nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised aerofoil of her dark areolas, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked fingerbreadth, stopping me when I leaned in too last.
"Don't put your back talk on it,"she said."Just sit back, open wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed parliamentary procedure, leaning my head back, then parting my lip capable and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her ovolo and forefinger on each slope of her rightfulness nipple. Then, using light press, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The first gear sparge squirted from her pap like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfect, pointing her mammilla directly in figurehead of my mouth. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the want to cut this consequence deep into my memory forever. The tang seemed to vivify something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, tart liquid filling my open mouth magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a consequence, giving me sentence to relish the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouthpiece. My eyes opened just in time to see her lifting her former breast, which soon began streaming milk over my tongue as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my knife through the warm nectar, letting the savour seep into every turning point of my mouthpiece, tingling my perceptiveness buds, as the world around me faded into a distant blur.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."upright affair I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really apprize your help with the pictures. But I should probably guide back now. We'll lecture again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my Best to appear nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it exonerate 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 water system just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about press for the shoot. How would you finger about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those affair. They made us have on them all the time at the hospital. You know, like those surly white compression hosiery. It makes me scratch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter bash ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nurse's rig, with white heels and slick magazine white hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just make me seem good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a brief hug and a soft kiss on the cheek, as I closed the door, wiping the fret off my forehead.
* * *
By the meter Artemis left, I felt like a total zombie. My gumshoe was so hard I could barely take the air, like all the descent in the quietus of my consistency had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some type of dismission, as I slowly cringe back upstairs, looking to find Mom's daybook once again.
This clock time I wasn't just looking for any random transition. Instead, I entered my female parent'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 date of her a la mode ledger entry. My chest heaved the moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut feeling that something inside her wanted it to materialise too. In my judgement, the possibility was so tantalizing that the prohibited excitement of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that gunpoint, I wanted a way to make the moment even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a cold room. Or maybe it was just my natural instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled open my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a luxurious muckle of high quality women's hosiery, in a multitude of colors, patterns and heaviness grade. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the amplitude of nylon unmentionable spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose buffet. I rummaged through the flock, searching until my hands came across a feather low-cal pair of silky, midnight black pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the draftsman, I made my way over to the bed, removing my denim and underclothing, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking instructions from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her jean. With the pantyhose drawn up over my articulatio genus, I then had to figure out out stretching the nylon over my cock and balls. My dick stood up like a sword lily pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its terminal point, drawing the girdle several inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my stomach. That maiden moment of come incasement from the shank down filled my totally body with tingling electricity. I wasn't indisputable why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the joy sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own smooth legs took me to a level of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my member beneath the textile, making me feel right at home.
Ready to begin reading, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my female parent letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her tits, and the dotty expectation of what I had yet to study, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my lode as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the sess, sent me into a dreamlike res publica as I quietly turned down to the page.
Sept 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting dissimilar lately. I love him to death and I can't help look responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting aged and he's basically grown enough to make his own decisiveness. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendency that are far too severe to overlook. I was able to appear past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even push aside all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetence for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this eccentric obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animate being. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not certain why I said those affair. It's laborious to even stomach the thought of letting him degrade me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my life story, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own physical body and blood. What kind of mother would I be to let him believe what he did was OK ? It doesn't weigh how much I enjoyed it. There's nix wrong with enjoying the spirit 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 pull it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a pretty decent size, surprising in fact. His consistence has gotten so rip since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so belligerent lately. I wish there was mortal I could talk to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him find someone, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is gaga. I missed him so lots and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can operate this out, as long as I'm able-bodied to control myself amend that he can. Guess we'll just accept to hold back and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my centre, letting her actor's line action replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the strait of keys jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter past times five. Mom was already plate. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my elbow room with no time to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some jean, slid on a dyad of air-sleeve, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as calmness as I could.
"You're home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of junk mail, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a flying grinning."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish Louis Harold Gray business suit. The color was a piffling drab, but the cut was extremely blandish, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right above mid-thigh, leaving more than enough leg on presentation where I could briefly pause to stare over the electroneutral color of the sheer whitish pantyhose stretching down to her bloodless leather heart.
"Sorry, probably smoked too much,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner party ?"
"Well,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to evacuate the bag."Since it's our beginning functionary home-cooked repast in our new seat, I went out and got stuff to make shepherd's pie."
The bag Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with Allium cepa, carrots, soil lamb or beef, topped by a stratum of creamy mashed Irish potato. It was also an inside jocularity among our sept.
shepherd was the name Mom took when she got marital, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her last gens would still be the same as mine. Mom could ready almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for natal day and early special occasions.
"assuredness,"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 affair for dinner party when we moved into our first space. I figured since you're the new man of the menage, I should name it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the sentiment of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty adept. For a secondment, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly overthrow when she got base. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to enlighten the air and would have said something right then, but the smiling on her face was so open and full of philia that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that moment, I could only presume that Mom had made the decision to move on like zilch had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter head word on, I did my comfortably to discount the tension between us, though it wasn't loose, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must birth picked up on the violent storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck. Her essence smelled like mint candy as her hazel tree eyes cut right through me. Her long, steady regard calmed me to the detail where the panic inside me gradually started to blow over away.
"Why are you so strain ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not trusted,"I said,"just been a unusual duo of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been middling squeamish,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close adequate where I could sense the passion of her breathing spell. Then she softly kissed me on the rim. It wasn't long a buss, more like a passel. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't feel my erection against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how much I missed you all this time. It means so much that you're unforced to give up your freedom to be with your weirdo, old mom. I want you to know no matter what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and kiss her as difficult as I could. The spark her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and weightlift my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the television camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a second, quickly nictation, trying to collect my persuasion. In hindsight, perhaps I should have lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a mild grin on my face, as I calmly proceeded to excuse how Cynthia had stopped by before, noticed the camera in the office and thought it would be cool to give Joel some sexy photos for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would sympathize it was all in fun, but the frown on her grimace immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem queasy about it,"she said, quirking her head to the side."Are you sure she just wanted pictures, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her body felt like she was bracing for a major shock. Her center stared intently as she quietly held her breathing place.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily tranquil as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the subject of white meat milk. At first, it was all pretty standard. 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 reply the here and now I turned away. Before I could arrest 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 characterization before Joel hears about this,"she said."The last affair we need is a grounds for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining elbow room, Mom had already picked up the television camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the moving-picture show one at a time.
I could hear the damage in her voice as she looked down and studied the picture 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 support. It's just a way to start my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulders. The hair falling over her face made it hard to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulder, trying to console her.
Finally, with weeping welling in her middle, she looked back, voice shaking as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without mentation, I lunged forward and kissed her with to a greater extent passion than a soldier returning from war. Her backtalk 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 long. Our hired man roamed everywhere, groping each early's bodies in a savage frenzy. The wonderful texture as I ran my finger through her slick brown tomentum, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my shaft, stirred me to give down and stuff both handwriting under her wench, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingerbreadth over every inch of that sleek nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her lithesome face yielding to the pressure level of my clenching finger's breadth, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a slight stratum of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the secret inside my dungaree. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to get through down and snaffle her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the unfitness of the nylon against my finger, helpless to quit my bridge player from steadily caressing her hose-covered pelvis and thighs, as she urgently reached through my open zipper, trying in vain to sense my cock, only to be blocked by a twosome 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 finger softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of silent recognition passed between us, where placing her hired hand against the placid, moody roughage of the pantyhose hide out inside my jean opened a hepatic portal vein leadership to the tincture of verboten sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the outline of my bulging shaft. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her bridge player slowly set out rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."well, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the delight of her delicate touch, with her fingers gliding over the ridgeline of my corpse, pulsating irradiation, sparkle as a feather, never stopping to bet up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak spots, while brushing the steer of her fingerbreadth against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the notion of both her hired man and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying sensation, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cell of my trunk, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a trivial crocked, but not uncomfortable."
The percentage point of her nail circled around the tip of my rooster, slowly moving down to my aching globe. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a minuscule restraint can be goodness for you,"she said."But I do give birth to say one affair. I can't refuse my feelings any more than you can. So I'm volition to let us spiel with each other but only so much."
"okeh,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that mean ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just look at this one pace at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okey with my voodoo is dear enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."
With her Andrew Dickson White heel still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my shaft, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grate motion, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the pressing inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our bodies to meld together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing broad well the effect she was having on me.
"topper feeling in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm indisputable I can convince you otherwise. Tell me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling flip of her pilus, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining board.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her cad together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the swelling of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zip. With one handwriting on each face of her skirt, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the floor, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her butt. The nylon dominance top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even snowy than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a beneficial angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"Take a photograph, it'll concluding longer,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to beak up the photographic camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the Sami pose, as I did my safe to keep my hands truelove, fighting through rickety nerves.
I shifted the lens system vertically, wanting to capture the full extension of her legs, ensuring her cad were visible in the systema skeletale. My turmoil was so consuming I could barely maintain my immersion. The embodiment of all my fantasies stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was arduous physical evidence straining under the atmospheric pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct delectation of our forbidden foreplay by the seductive mode in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking pictures as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest across the mesa. Her prone side beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the slant heftiness of her stage seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright piano position, turning to face the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her bounder on top of the tooshie. She flipped her hair, striking another pose, letting her blazer swoop down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't avail watching the motion of her hand rubbing back and Forth against her leg. She seemed to savor feeling the material against her tegument, caressing the nylon with such tenderness that I suddenly became intoxicated with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a aphrodisiacal demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with interlace semi-circles covering the lower half of each breast, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring fullness of her tear, setting her titty 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 flip-flop of the same lacy fabric and people of color. She didn't wait long to switch into yet another striking mannerism as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg hybrid, as I held up the tv camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her left metrical unit.
Finally, with her place still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her heels pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her nous to the right, snapping another picture with her leg elevated and the side of her face peeking back at me with the naughtiest grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left hand over the cotton panel between her legs. I held up the tv camera for one last pose, framing the final shot so her face was centered between her subject legs, as she scrunched her eye together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an aspect of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so compel that I instantly tore off everything including my wind sleeve. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with undetermined arms. Our mouth melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her legs wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough elbow room to contact up and caress her breasts. She let out a moan as my fingers made impinging with her swollen nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her optic roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my penis was begging for dismissal. Still, I wasn't sealed how far she was bequeath to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the mesa, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on flavorless up against her can. She leaned back, keeping our steaming sass bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one bridge player firmly attached to her white meat, I took the early and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her kitty with my middle fingerbreadth. Her lips parted as she moaned deeply against my sass. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical circumstance of her foreplay. Her hip slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my digit and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her whole body started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to excite even more. For once in my life, I was actually in control, using my fingers to work Mom's pussy into a foamy fret.
"Are you prepare to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flaming even more.
Her solution came with a series of tantrum and stutter as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard naught but a farseeing, steadily moan. Her look grimaced as her mouth flung open, moaning and wailing through red shudder vibrating against my cock. Her heaving intimation gradually became more normal as the olfactory sensation of her fond juice permeated the room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the stream of proscribe lust, we hastily made our way toward the living way. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the 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 prick fully engorged under squiffy, restrictive thralldom.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my balls, aiding the flow of watery liquidness as her hand continued its journey along my cock. Grabbing the sash, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my member feel the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her psyche, feeling her warm breath around the tip. She flicked out her clapper, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a sponge. I could barely prompt as she calmly proceeded to browse the tip of her knife along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spittle.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my cock, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her natural language to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her human face as she quietly jerked me off. Her eyes widened as the shaft of light extended under her skillful handling. She seemed to get it on exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more impound to her that it was to me.
I had learned my lesson from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you beware if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could take in put clothes pins on my teat and that would have been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far seraphic and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite word end of the lounge, swinging her pegleg up to roost them against my bulwark. Bending her stifle, she nestled both feet around my cock, placing the shaft between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky archway softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me number one pes job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her feet covered in nylon sweeping up and down my stopcock or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't know how I was able-bodied to keep myself from nutting all over her feet right then and there.
"That's a well boy. Let momma hitch you off with her understructure,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your gumshoe, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too busy trying not to cum. I wanted to hold out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
Using her stiff leg brawn with tenacity, she continued pumping her feet up and down my cock until it turned over-embellished. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the lounge. She climbed up over my shoulder, straddled my read/write head and lowered her privates smack down against my face.
She must have intended to muffle my moan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed about of it straight down her throat. With one hired hand around it, her head started bobbing, saccade and sucking all at once. My hip started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eagre mouth. Meanwhile, my boldness was smothered between her legs, where all I could emit was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my human face as I felt her saliva drip down, leaving lovesome pool around my balls, all the while maintaining a steady rhythm method as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon trough she finally came up for air.
After a series of hard, frantic breath, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me way to resist up beside her and bend her over the couch, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
Wasting no clock time, I knelt down and smothered my case between her legs. I knew it was wild. Still, I reached up and started to pull down her pantyhose and G-string.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked face, before palming them with both hands, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in read/write head first, lodging my glossa deep inside her SOB and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract bridge. She squealed from the instant of sudden insertion, mashing her cheeks firmly against my font. I kneaded the supple flesh as my tongue slowly began wriggling oceanic abyss inside the narrow fold. The briny smack deeply aroused me, worming my tongue in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the cushions as her anus started to glitter from all my expectoration. I was eating her ass, my beautiful female parent's ass, slobbering and licking it fresh. From the strait of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how foul it might have been. I was starting to lose all sense of reasonableness, with no regard for how far I was starting to push my luck, instead pushing my tongue farther into the astuteness of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her slit flood until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spotlight left in her mother fucker where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the sharpness of put, with her ramification folded and her feet lifted off the story.
Possessed by a pauperism to occupy full advantage of my female parent's thirst for perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her thigh, with my hip joint sawing back and Forth River, feeling her pantyhose tickle both incline of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her articulatio genus, staring down at the wanton pleasure combustion in her heart. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my hammer rightfield between her thigh. Not once did she utter a single complaint as I stood there thrusting between her leg, blanketed with pantyhose on both slope.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her ability to release all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became sort out that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For years, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the Lapplander twine compulsion, as I grew up under the while of nylon cast by the beaut of her shimmering pegleg.
Finally, with my work force locked firmly around her waist, driving my peter between her silken second joint furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my soul.
Eventually, the rising pressure building inside my balls rose to a level much too powerful to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my warning, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the storey. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took hold of my turncock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her sass, using fate of spit as she generously slobbered the swollen head. She then closed her fingers around my shaft, tightening her clenched fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my eyes, giving sack up 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 zippo except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. add up on, baby. Don't hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, read ?"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. Make mommy's pantyhose Nice and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the audio of her articulation made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more surpassing than hearing those words echo through my head with such unassumingness that my ballock imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epic cum shower, sheeting down Wave after wave, sparing no part of my mother's soundbox, as she sat there stroking without lull, draining me from the interior out, gaping as one furious bang followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the batch of cum oozing down not just her brass, but also dripping from her wet mucilaginous tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thigh, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her digit through the oleaginous guck, smiling as she reached up to taste 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 bearings, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the way to block spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty photographic film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her brim."There's zero 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 cook for you."
Mom quirked her head word."You want to wee-wee dinner ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you indisputable you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure enough I can cope. I've seen you make it a c times. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll textual matter Cynthia and tell her to come by tomorrow. If you need any assistance, just let me live. But first base, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably step out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"auditory sensation estimable,"Mom said."In the meantime, please conceive about cancelling that exposure shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, zippo will happen,"I said."You can trust me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I rely you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the poser of self-command lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"wellspring, maybe not, but that isn't the point,"she said."We just found this place. And I know you like it here as very much as I do. Why would you desire 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 visualize out dinner party on my own.
It took me some prison term, still I managed to farm something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two chicken feed of wine, then reached down to bravely engage her first bite.
The expression on her face as she slowly began to manducate 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 process 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 office in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That place with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really inadequate dresses so you can show me off."
"Perfect,"I said, smiling."Just don't draw a blank 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, O.K.,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I say masses if someone asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smiling."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is tell them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her glass, whispering her response as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering candy kiss, sliding her natural language inside my mouthpiece, filling it with the sugared preference of wine-colored, before slowly pulling her rim 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 human body and blood fantasy. And I promise to never break wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to hold open all your cum just for me."

The End
right of first publication @ 2013
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