sheepherder's Pie
By worldly concern Angel

It all started when I was 10 years old, the year my parents got divorced, a rule age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to cause his obsession with K larceny car blindsided by his foremost crush.
I had just started junior senior high, where they made us register boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to realise the peril of disallow lust, yet old enough to notice how my female parent would often do the sexiest thing without knowing it.
affair might own been unlike had my female parent been more unforced to let me out of her vision. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my free time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her Thomas More peculiar trend.
She had an extensive shoe compendium, most of which were high cad. She loved wearing hound so much that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the house, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No issue what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a stalk. If she was sitting at plate scaling theme, she'd sit there for minute sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sunday, though she knew almost zip about sportswoman. She just enjoyed wearing her fitted jersey and a pair of tights, rooting for whichever team had the weakened field general.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The feeling excited me so often that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished high school, I was so used to being by my mother's incline that leaving for college less than an hour away filled me with highly merge emotions due to all the stick memories left behind.
By my third year at Ralph Waldo Emerson, the freshness of living away from household had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more solitary and homesick, with no fille and only a few male Friend to facilitate kill the boredom.
One gloomy afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the amobarbital sodium, with the root word idea of finding a new flat for us to live together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking adult female, with long, course, chestnut tree brown hair, hazel eyes, flat boldness and weedy lips set between her oval chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her resplendence days of high school gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophy, mostly for balance beam. Still, she kept her soundbox in wonderful anatomy, wearing trendy outfits that proudly displayed her pert bosom, tight ass, and respectable of all, her long, head-turning branch.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal sentiment, my mother was the live woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a full blown fixation. I tried my best to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to vex that I seemed to have no interest in other lady friend.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the view of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, squat apartment. My roomy was a total slob. Yet, in spite of the cephalalgia, and as lots as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and region of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to expend my junior twelvemonth getting hammered every night and screwing as many co-ed as potential. At to the lowest degree, 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 tendency to fidget and make ill at ease put-on around girls my own age, to the percentage point where even the ugly ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my deary pictures of her on my cellular phone phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and goose egg made me cum faster than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as long as I could think back I had always been captivated by my female parent's legs. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up consequence planning to teach selling at a nearby community college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their wench. By that metre, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many years. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this introductory element of her daily business dress distinctly brought out the remarkable mantrap and property of her long, wiggly legs.
Maybe it was inherited, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that fourth dimension, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first off place. As unflawed as they looked by themselves, their spellbinding effect immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary undergarment was imbued with over-the-top superpower luring my eyes to linger over the supple tone of her incline, slender sura, moving up to the meaty flesh of her firm sculpted thigh, where her foresighted, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her coxa, topped by a set of luscious round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering screw thread of nylon.
Though I'd long blank out the very first sentence that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an urgent impulse to look down and regard over the fulgent aura emanating from her legs. From the bottom of all her short skirts, down to the tips of her toes, each pair she wore had the might to enthrall me with its own seductive scintillation.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at home waiting for her to walk in and recoil off her sexy heels. My dreamy center followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the warm up glow of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the Thomas More I became do-or-die to feed my growing obsession at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't strange for me to pull out my tv camera and get her to pose for me out in public. She'd always been the character of mother who gladly encouraged any pursuit I developed, especially my growing interest in photography. Eventually, I managed to collect 12 of flick, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous legs. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her mental picture after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to mention being her son.
My favorite pictures for jerking off were the 1 that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before teaching, working in corporate America had given her many years to educate this particular skill. As a school professional, she was far too graceful to take one leg and carelessly fall through it over the early.
Instead, with her head up and her buoyant breasts pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, cross her helping hand under her skirt, then with full extension phone, riff out one leg, flexing the tip of her brake shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, satiny stem, the lush form seeable though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her downcast second joint, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her business firm shapely calves in deliciously complete alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the metric grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my dick throb listening that insidious swish.
trench down, I knew it was wrongly. Still, I often tried to win over myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the raging womanhood on terra firma. Her voice alone sent gelidity down my spur, with the perfect diction and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident educator, with only the svelte shadow of a typical New England emphasis.
Despite being over XL, her nutritious diet and friendly demeanor gave her a youthful incandescence. She barely ate Thomas More than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every morning. While it was clearly a confirming thing, her healthy lifestyle only encouraged my physical attraction to continue building and become more powerful each day.
Her bra size was an average 34-B. Yet, her small-scale dresser proudly stood out in contrast with her petite waistline, jutting from the flimsy material of her tight blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to imagine she still had want. Yet, to my limited knowledge, after the divorce, she had no men in her life. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so a good deal time worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had time to date. She should induce had offer lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own nix infatuation and my ever increasing lustfulness for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell number flashed up across the concealment. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her better flick, taken in multiplication Square. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a bleak miniskirt, Negro pump, and a refulgent pair of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the picture just as Mom walked over to pose next to a tall New York streetlight. It was like she could read my thought process as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only half seeable under her long hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rust magnetic pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her left knee behind her back. She stood there holding the pose for several seconds, with one brake shoe playfully lifted off the solid ground and a smiling on her brass as lustrous as the pantyhose on her leg.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the headphone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained sense of hearing had failed to find the noisy jangle of whang, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a arcminute ?"she said quickly."There's something important I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her voice that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the last five second drooling over her sexy photos. I'd even pulled out a twain of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my last head trip home. She had over a twelve. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My prick was already throbbing. All I could recollect about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my mitt, then taking my silky finger and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the more she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two months,"she said."I just got a letter that my tear is increasing by almost 200 dollar sign. There's no way I can give that."
"OK,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not okay,"she said."I'm going to let to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd tactile property if I moved up to Boston."
At that particular moment, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so good around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without thought process, just for the probability to be up fold and personal with her get legs again.
"I understand if you need to guess about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it very much thought myself. I'm just not certainly what else I can do."
Again, my judgment drifted off. I lied there trying to imagine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random query hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the instructor's waiting area,"she said."I'm on my lunch break. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the range of her sitting there with her peg crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one brake shoe 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 shit things easier ?"
"You're right wing,"she said."That's actually the actual rationality 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 nice place for the two of us."
It took me another moment to react. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the tranquil velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the duration of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely concentrate. I was too busy wondering what her free hand was doing as she sat there with one deal holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her fingers over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at nursing home ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her horseshoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to have it away for sure enough. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's couch, in full view of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old clock time. I can always find work at another campus. Plus we can find a stead with Sir Thomas More space for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a opinion, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to strive inside the oven. I could already see her wench riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a intimation of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her leg.
"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 lever about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roomie, even if our lease was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some flat coat normal,"I added, when I started to agnize the freedoms I'd be giving up purely to see her ramification every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to make the prescript now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"zero John R. 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 guys dwelling house 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 fast, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a electric sander, more delicate friction to my teasing hand shot.
"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 sess and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porno you have on your figurer ? You're my son, Chris. There's nothing you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the hell,"I said, voicing my chafe."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her start reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her words carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a lilliputian bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very liberal. It doesn't make sensory faculty that you'd rather sit at household surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of genuine charwoman out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Christ, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit aflutter."I never knew you had such a thing for older woman,"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 computer 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 stimulating."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a mo, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The rhytidoplasty in her vox told me she was smiling on the early end.
"You must have been reading my brain,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had zero but wish all day. It was nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"sang-froid,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch pitch blackness strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon River."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 appear at places in the morning. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to fall,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds practiced. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might desire to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be fine,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jean. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a pair,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jean,"I repeated, resisting the urge 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 mulct,"I said, knowing it would only be another arcminute 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 indisputable you tell Jimmy to jade some pants this clip. It's a picayune awkward seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a demon."But then again, you can't really blame him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was convention length. The wench I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"fountainhead that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you keep your bookman from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's variety of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"Stop it, Mom. You look great. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other woman. We all like to hear it."
"well, it's rightful,"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 member 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 female parent had never asked me a question as directly sexual as that. My balls were practically about to burst. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my unnatural desire to run my hired hand over her diffused silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy pegleg. Still, I somehow managed to reply with an reply intended to hide my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to take up a weird play. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, tell me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the like time."Seriously, I want to know,"she beseech, as I held back what felt like a massive eruption."Do you call up I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those soil websites ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't tell whether she wanted the true statement, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"O.K., fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Just tell me one thing. Which constituent of a woman's body do you like most ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My adept option was to campaign back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we omit it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't stop there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so tough if she hadn't already gathered the state I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, stop it. I can't take this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sensory faculty, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this totally idea. It's bad enough you can't see a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the last time,"I said, starting to fall behind it."If I really wanted a girl, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one foot in the grave ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetish I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the fourth dimension. I certainly don't want you having sexual thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to evidence you how inappropriate that would be."
Of class she didn't. I'd known all along how unfitting it was. In that mo, I honestly didn't care. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no subject what, dying to overcharge every thread with a monolithic wad of thick greasy tinder, purely out of malice.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the unerasable memories that triggered my voodoo in the first place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the planetary house wearing see-through pantyhose with no wench on. I could see her returning from piece of work in her pitch-black fuck-me pumps, the stale odor of dampness, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swollen animal foot. I could even picture the way she smiled as she walked down the street, rose hip switching from slope to side, pretending not to get it on how men spun toward the sound of her empale heels clicking on the pavement, only to come home, peel off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the trammel, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my lingua over the wet pip, and deeply inhaled her inviolable, musky scent.
My lurid memories pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spurt, I was forced to strangle my itch to groan, watching super C of semen blast into the air, surging from the read/write head of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hired man, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no idea what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my heedless act, her pantyhose swimming in a puddle of cum.
Finally, I managed to hoard myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just pay heed up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tincture."Don't hang up. I know you were just being honest. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an crucial conclusion, I think you should tell me everything. narrate me the truth, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one script, by saying no, she'd most in all probability sense that I was lying, which would only make her wild and potentially spoil any chance of us moving back in together. On the other helping hand, telling the truth would most belike freak her out so a good deal that she might not speak to me again for calendar month, and that was even uncollectible.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly trusted what to do, the number one thing I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the best way to respond her question was to change state it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to redirect."But inaugural I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short-circuit hint."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your head. I think if we're going to experience together, then you have to forebode to incur a girlfriend and originate living in the tangible earthly concern. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"Good,"she said."I'll see you in the break of the day. And don't forget to bring back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next morning, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, black, V-neck perspirer, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a ash grey necklace which failed to keep me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her engross neckline. Her blue skinny jean sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every curve under skintight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her mark new, high-heeled, black leather sandals, with fragile strap spanning over her naked feet.
Looking down at the cuff of her jeans, the get-go thing I noticed was the trouble absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my wholly 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 concerned she was talking about my hoodoo. So the stopping point matter I wanted to do was send for any inordinate attention to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roommate, jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grin on his cheek told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshake. For a few minutes, she and jemmy stood there making little talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak to me in my room.
I led her back to my bedroom and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her last brace of pantyhose with a sheer hound and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to wash out the duet I'd taken from her dresser. So I promptly fished them from the pile of washing thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give 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 realize that I'd purposely left the threshold slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow fling, knowing it was wrong, yet still ineffectual to pluck my eyes from watching her undress.
With her back turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a fourth dimension, enjoying the lovely sight of dungaree smothering her compressed round butt. I then heard the speech sound as she yanked down her zip fastener, then continued watching as her deal went up to her English. She hooked her ovolo into the peg down waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips incline to side. I fully expected to see pantie, or at to the lowest degree a G-string, resisting the urge to gasp as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her defenseless ass. My dick instantly started to swell up. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a straighten out view of her outer pussy brim, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jemmy would take the air by and see me standing there at any minute. Still, my unbelievable lot was too good to pass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her finger, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her spry fingerbreadth rolled up the first leg. She then lifted her left foot, then reached down and slid the hoop of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slid the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended human knee. She set down her left foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right animal foot inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her lissom thigh, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely hips under the straining waistband, making one concluding modification to origin up the sewing along her peg down butt crack, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a marvellous stratum of tan, lustrous, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could sustain stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to take leave while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and capture me at any moment.
I went back to the animation elbow room to bump jimmy rolling a joint, which I'd come to ask as part of his daybreak routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a foresighted talk where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprisal, jimmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to move in with his girl in a few weeks anyway. Fortunately, there were no firmly tactual sensation between us, especially when I stopped to turn over who my new roommate was soon to be.
consequence later, my lovely mother finally returned from my elbow room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the great deal of pantyhose covering her somewhat feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the doorway, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her view. We left my apartment and set out to find our new topographic point, quickly escaping so Mom could fend off jimmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the wheel and turned on the local eighties place. The song on the radio thankfully managed to tranquillise my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic lyrics.
"Every little thing she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the next couple of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second story walk-up, on a repose, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The house was owned by a young, honeymooner couple named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the number 1 trading floor. Book of Joel was a successful contractor in the metropolis. Cynthia was a quondam nanny turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given parentage to their first baby. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a infant, judging by the size of her enormous tits which seemed to account for nearly half her torso system of weights, especially considering how short she was. If I had to guess, I would feature said she was easily a G-cup…With a uppercase G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big tits !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inches shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost champion when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the Lapp high school as my mother, only eight class later.
Artemis led us up to see the flat and we couldn't believe our eye. The place had literally everything we wanted, high cap, hardwood floors, with oodles of space, including a with child eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a compounding dining and keep room area, divided by sliding double doors. On the right was a small bureau, a belittled guest bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a small memory board quad, with a door to the dorsum porch, and stairs leading up to the attic. The noggin had been completely remodeled for new renter, with two bedrooms, and a declamatory original bathtub.
Mom and I signed the lease in a matter of days, agreeing to move in by October 1st.
The relocation itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired removal company to palm all the big article of furniture. Then, on Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hr. Sometime around midday, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no food. I offered to start unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and start removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old books and picture albums, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound journal which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the discharge room and quietly cracked open the first varlet.
The first entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The initiative few entries weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old selling firm she'd worked at during her marriage. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks notice. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for individual else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was individual more than traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did appear much happier with his new trophy wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the first of all five or six pages, when things started to beak up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with mike Anne Mansfield Sullivan in the stairwell over by his office. I'm not even for certain why I did it. He's almost 10 long time younger than me. Plus he's so fully of himself, really not my eccentric. 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 office. I love how he always comes over and drop down his pen on the floor. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just represent along. At first, he would drop it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my legs for a while. It's pretty funny to watch. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the Same thing. He must really wish my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through sufficiency lately. The concluding matter I want to do is abash him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about Mike. Weary Willie and Robin are throwing a goodbye political party for me tomorrow night. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His shaft got really severe when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the adult female in the place. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 one dollar bill on a blade new party dress and that son of a bitch didn't even show up. Oh well, his red I guess. God knows there were stack of other guys there who liked it. Never thought I could deplume off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next week. It was sort of odd being the center of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know Turdus migratorius was pretty jealous. I told her to barricade purchasing me shots. Besides, no one puts stripper well pole in a bar total of sottish women expecting cipher to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my snatch for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm sure Mike would own loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't block up thinking about his rooster. I really take to get jazz. I should probably clothe in a honorable vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find it. He's always sneaking into my way. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my scanty drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The last thing I want to find is a huge cum mark on one of my satin lash. I guess at some full point I'll have a talk with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really bid his father were here…
I would have kept meter 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 march all the twisted view scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my female parent wasn't as clueless or free as I'd always believed. She seemed to savor getting attending from immature men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The persuasion of Mom willingly behaving like a slovenly woman really got me excited. I stepped out onto the binding porch, where I lit up a fag, trying to calm myself down.
The view from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the rail, as I looked down and noticed that the pall were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the corner of the elbow room, I spotted an empty rocking chair, following to what looked like the railings on a babe's crib. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Artemis appeared carrying the baby in her arms. Even from such a high angle, it was virtually insufferable to bet down and see anything early than her thumping titty. The image reminded me of those IMAX pic where they show you the Earth from space and you can still see the Himalaya Mountains only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't helper grinning at the light source blue clit up jumper she was wearing. The textile was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from baby Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to heave in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already horny as fuck, as I watched Artemis achieve up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her left titty flop through the orifice of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her babe's sass over her swollen teat. My whole life-time I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth River. I've always preferred pegleg, but there was no denying the beauty of Artemis's phenomenal jugful. The size of it of her bosom reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dough until it rose into easy, circle, flesh-coloured hillock. The longer I watched, the to a greater extent I found myself overjealous of her slight boy and the blissful looking on his face as he eagerly suckled his female parent's tit.
Just when my dick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the presence room access. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back interior.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a shortstop, heather gray, New England Patriots T-shirt, with inglorious spandex yoga pant, and a twosome of brown fur-lined iron boot. Her tomentum was tied back in a ponytail, with no makeup, 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 delay 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 passel of dust everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chairwoman in the kitchen. The rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"Good question,"she said."Why don't you sit here ? If I get tired of standing, I can always sit on your lap."
Assuming she was just kidding, I grabbed my sandwich and took a seat, while Mom leaned against the counter and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the professorship, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her leg stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new family. Are you excited ?"
I would take answered, if only she hadn't elect that precise moment to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her face instantly told me she could feel how hard I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this tortured facial expression on her look like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this frigidness, distant look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone claim over again. Only this fourth dimension, there was no cagy way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the side. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my headland. I wanted to say something, but all I could concentre on was the fluency of her leging as she pressed her ass firmly against my rooster.
Intended for yoga, the leg covering felt more like velvety tights, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as flabby to the touch. On the plus English, the fabric was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her blazon in straw man of her.
"Maybe you should secernate me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to face up her, I lifted my sweaty ribbon 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 brain."Look, I understand that you're vernal and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the house like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that easygoing. It takes time."
"okay, maybe you're right wing,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just consume to dish out with it on my own."
"Fine,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the consistent thing to do in that situation would consume probably been to digest up and go to my elbow room. Instead of doing that, I chose to make Christ Within of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was unforced to have a sense of wit about the whole thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just strap it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her head back, arms folded as she glared at me through the constrict slits of her eyes.
"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."
Her reception hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a WIMP. I'd never been skillful at play. In schooltime, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in socio-economic class. miss pointed and laughed at my scrawny form, knowing I was too crybaby to fight down back. I'd been putting up with bullies for as long as I could remember. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my tool.
"Okay, clock time out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your cock back in your pants, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't scout ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a mild laugh and an obvious smirk on her cheek."So you just expect me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is convention ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her drumhead to her dresser, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a brief moment, she slowly raised her brain up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered."fine, 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 mention this again."
Admittedly, it would possess been easy to stop right there. I could have easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoking carriage and she'd obviously chosen to ignore 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 prick harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of smoke."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a second, startling me as she sprang up, with cigaret in bridge player, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her coffin nail, tossing it down the sump, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a lowly plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. feeding bottle in deal, she leaned over the head of my cock, squirting out a generous glob of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"Will that supporter ?"she said, with a grin on her facial expression which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the al-Qaeda, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny prepuce, making it glisten from all position, enabling me to enjoy the tactual sensation of my own slippery mitt, rising and falling around my rigid shaft, as I sat in social movement of her and boldly continued to hitch off.
I sat there hoping she would study my technique, imagining one day to feel her mitt instead of my own. The look on her face lacked any conformation of expression, as if to preclude me from noticing any signs of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really bucket along this up,"she said, dropping her custody to her pelvic arch."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could become around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and show you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say delight. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I look at your ass ?'”
hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of inexplicit exponent, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I look at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out LE than three inches from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so in force,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the sight of her black leggings stretched taut over the curve of her firm shapely nates. She kept her feet together, accentuating the side where the humble of her cover arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight fabric, so amazingly round and full, I could barely take for back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, luxurious bubble.
"I'm glad you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"okey,"I whispered, losing my breathing spell."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my female parent to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index number finger's breadth, directing me to fend in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden hind end, 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 glutes,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then prove me,"she said."appearance me how horny you are right now. Let me feel it. Let me feel that hot warhead all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the audio of her voice nearly caused me to conk out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even open of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to jerk off in our firebrand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga bloomers ?
I should make accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no fortune to oppose, as I lunged forward and slammed my prick smack up against her stub, a forceful collision softened by the leggings and the meaty flesh underneath, the perfect shock absorber for my throbbing penis to grind against her shine, velvety rump.
She let out a panic-struck shriek, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her outspoken protest as I violently started thrusting my hip joint back and Forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, occlusive ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to hold back, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said goose egg in return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my rooster. Her voice was raspy and out of breath, with her heading forward, hairsbreadth swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so hard. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me feel your cum !"
In 19 twelvemonth, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so often spunk make out gushing out of my tool like a broken water principal. The military group of each muscle spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My face was buried in her hairsbreadth as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering sensation of her soft cheeks pressed up against my shaft milked out the remaining seed flowing from my aching testicle.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the opprobrious leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thickheaded level of ashen creamy foam, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the cranny of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the crack of her moist pussy.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for word 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 tranquil. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, unspoilt idea,"she said, slowly rising to her metrical foot."Just try to ward off getting another hard-on in the next ten minutes, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that good afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as much time to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking most of our things. Mom spent about of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the living room hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza pie for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football game. Around nine o'clock, I went out to cope with some friends from school who were hanging out downtown. By the sentence I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty business firm. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely enough fourth dimension to snap up a fast shower, throw on some clothes and race off to get to my break of day class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to concern that my foolish actions had managed to bankrupt everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the awe of Mom telling me to incite out made it virtually out of the question to rivet on anything else. I stared off into quad, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought process of going family, sure of what was destined to come.
My final category ended at noontide. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two Panthera uncia of wild blue yonder Dream. So I figured the best affair to do was go dwelling house, smoke a trough and have a brace beers, just to get up myself for the foul modality my female parent was surely to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the home, I instantly remembered my mother's daybook, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the Saame 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 transit that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was kind 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 business lawsuit like he could consume been a attorney or something. I needed some burnt umber so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many board as I took my arse, which ended up facing him directly. From the minute I sat down, I could instantly finger him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my wooden leg. I could have got up and get another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and save my peg crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take the intimation and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more than I realized how anxious he was to come near me. I was kind of insulted, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not fall in him one just to fuck with his head. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my coxa toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them opened to designate him the Black person flip-flop I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four sentence, crossing my legs back and Forth River. Each clock time, I held my legs undefended for a irregular, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to follow me down to the brake shoe store.
I'd found a peachy deal on a mordant duet of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a overnice showy finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the windowpane. The judiciary was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my black thong, but virtually of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some subvert keep me from buying horseshoe. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underclothes, with my legs surface and my skirt up around hips, working my feet into the skid. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play destitute with his book binding turned. At that point, I probably should take confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the issue and turned around to see if he was still behind me. sure enough enough, he walked out with a grin on his face like he hadn't done anything unseasonable. By then, I was so irritate that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful branch. I asked if he got off peeking up adult female's skirts. He said only adult female who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a cunt or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to involve me out for a drinkable to see if he could interchange my opinion. He looked a small angry when I turned him down, making the misunderstanding 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 cock. He looked around for a secondment. Then he stepped over to the windowpane and nervously pulled his pecker out. I spit in my palm, taking his dick in one hand, while using the other to slowly pull up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the former to stroke his cock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my branch and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my thigh, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my wench, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The passage ended there, but the agitate effect lingered in my vivid imagery longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without inquiry my first clear grounds that the charwoman who raised me and handed down all of my morals was willing to engage in extreme, high-risk, intimate deportment with seemingly any Edward Young man with a dick. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and intuitive feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was hang on exposing my mother's dark side, determined to see how far she was willing to go to satisfy her deep 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 stride coming up the stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my psyche, as I walked toward the speech sound of someone knocking on the room access.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his pecker belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the room access and saw Artemis standing there, with her bra-busting melon spilling out of a brightly orange satin nightie.
"commodity first light,"she said, over a bass yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled look, as I glanced down at her muzzy pink slippers."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your hubby. 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 William Christopher Handy with a wrench myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to concentre on her face."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke consternation, radiator, bathroom sinkhole, and one of the scant transposition in the attic."
"No worry,"she said."Smoke alarm probably needs a new barrage fire. If the light switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had short blonde hair, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left field, creating a lovely frame for the fullness of her round, chubby look. Knowing how decisive some women are, she might have described herself as overweight. In my popular opinion, the extra baby weight unit just made her take care more sonsie. Her hips were fairly wide-eyed, yet her stomach was still pretty flat, with a pair of incredibly huge knockers, giving her a unadulterated hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a little under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to break the valves, there was no civilised way to sustain myself from staring down at her hulk hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's tits reminded me of those gruelling pocketbook down at the gym, two of them, slope to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonderment for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orange satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half naked, I did my considerably to relieve her sense of importunity, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave employment until five or six. She's more sensitive to the frigidness than I am. My old apartment was much tough. Not to mention, we trust you."
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first tenants since we bought this place…hate to start off on the incorrectly foot,"she added."The radiator seems ok, must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's sort of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the babe. I can fix it right after that."
"Sounds secure,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and crack out the sink too. I just need to put on some substantial clothes."
"No rush, always unspoilt to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to hold out a little more next time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the segmentation where her nightie had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a lilliputian distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless attack to incubate up, making her breast meat jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to hold open my eyeball inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in straw man of the office, pointing to the television camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a hobby. When I was youth, I had this aspiration of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like variation Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or man-about-town,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's poise,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up style. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just shine me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a glove Romney bumper pricker, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"fountainhead, no,"I said stuttering like a patsy.
The more she spoke, the more Artemis reminded of the girls I knew back in high school, the ace who'd been spoiled since parturition and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, suitable in this font considering her plentiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our second anniversary. I wasn't certain what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some nice glamor shooting, you know, something sexy to add some spiciness back to our family relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how unfold she was about her marriage. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle flirtation of this heroic woman of the house or the rapidly growing erection in my gasp.
"Umm, sure, I could help oneself you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and select some run shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the paries and slowly proceeded to peel down the right strap of her night-robe, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the flashgun,"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 deficiency of shyness, never expecting so much assurance in front of the lens. The innocent, gutsy housewife who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting lips and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the excite result of her steaming blue eyes. Yet, the sultry expression on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely machinate me for the moment she crossed her weapon together, thrusting her titmouse toward the tv camera like dual airbags, completely filling up the frame with more segmentation than my creative thinker 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 hand, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need much statement as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her forefront tilted back, and her pectus pointed up toward the cap.
"brain if I ask you a personal interrogative,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left side, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to acknowledge how big they are."
"wellspring, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be diminished 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 take the air with two congius of Milk River strapped to your bureau. It kind of spirit like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my nous."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 knocker milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than even milk. I try to eat great deal of fruit to make it sweet-flavored. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't hitch much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these image and see which angles work best. Let me get laid when you have time for a full photo shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrongfulness ?"I asked."If you need time to suppose about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The composure in her voice combined with her horizontal surface regard gave me a light opinion as I set down the camera, then pulled out a president, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed affair couldn't possibly get weirder, this woman I barely knew was offering to let me taste her boob milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my first pulsation was to bury my face between her chest and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my typeface which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a lilliputian curious.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her right hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder strap. fret beads formed across my brow as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the former. My eyes concentrated mainly on the Orange River satin covering her monolithic chest, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her hired hand to patiently relieve down the bright fabric. Finally, with a lump in my pharynx, I looked on intently as Artemis managed to pull up out her tremendous jugful.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't sound how a woman so small could end up with mamilla that big. Each one was larger than my header and must stimulate weighed at to the lowest degree ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the size and bod of these two gigantic globes, hovering in from my human face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with stretch marks along both incline of her otherwise porcelain hide.
As big as they were, Cynthia's tits were far too heavy to escape the effects of gravitational attraction, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue really started to jiggle.
phonograph needle to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her tits out for all their glorification, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to know how gallant she was of her vast 38FFs.
sitting in the death chair, my eyes were pull down with her pink tit, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her grim areolas, no wider than a duad of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, open all-encompassing, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed Order, leaning my head back, then parting my lips open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tip of her thumb and index finger on each incline of her mightily nipple. Then, using light pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching apparent motion. The first sprinkle squirted from her pap like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was staring, pointing her pap directly in presence of my mouth. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the penury to cauterise this moment deep into my computer storage forever. The relish seemed to recreate something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, tangy liquidness filling my candid backtalk magically transported me back to early childhood. She stopped me for a moment, giving me fourth dimension to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouth. My eyes opened just in time to see her lifting her other white meat, which soon began streaming milk over my natural language as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the warm nectar, letting the flavor seep into every street corner of my mouth, tingling my taste buds, as the world around me faded into a distant blur.
"soul seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."safe affair I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's gratifying,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your help with the pictures. But I should probably direct back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's amercement, whenever,"I said, trying my best to appear nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it pull in that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more openhanded than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the water just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you find about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us outwear them all the time at the infirmary. You know, like those despicable White person condensation hosiery. It makes me scratch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter knock ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a aphrodisiac nurse's turnout, with white bounder and shiny E. B. White hosepipe. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just do me look right. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a job,"I said, escorting her to the doorway. She left me with a brief hug and a mild kiss on the boldness, as I closed the room access, wiping the stew off my forehead.
* * *
By the time Cynthia left, I felt like a tote up zombie spirit. My hawkshaw was so hard I could barely walk, like all the profligate in the relief of my body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some case of loss, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to find oneself Mom's journal once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. 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 register the day of the month of her in style entry. My dresser 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 befall too. In my creative thinker, the opening was so tantalizing that the forbidden excitation of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that point, I wanted a way to make the moment even better. I wasn't sure where the melodic theme came from, maybe from being in such a dusty elbow room. Or maybe it was just my lifelike inherent aptitude taking over as I walked over and pulled open my mother's top draftsman.
I opened it to discover a voluptuous lot of gamey quality womanhood's hosiery, in a plurality of colors, formula and thickness spirit level. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the bounty of nylon unmentionable spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose snack counter. I rummaged through the pile, searching until my hands came across a plumage light pair of silky, midnight melanise pantyhose brush against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my blue jean and underwear, before nervously sitting down to wreak out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to screw up my way through it, taking teaching from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her dungaree. With the pantyhose drawn up over my genu, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my cock and testicle. My dick stood up like a flag rod as I stretched the ticklish threading to its limit, drawing the waistcloth various inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my stomach. That first-class honours degree moment of aggregate encasement from the waist down filled my whole body with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure as shooting why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasance sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own quiet stage took me to a level of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the framework, making me find right at home.
Ready to start out reading, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her tit, and the unhinged prevision of what I had yet to understand, it was a admiration I didn't instantly blow my payload as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensiveness running through me, combined with the lingering outcome of the weed, sent me into a dreamlike state as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting different lately. I love him to last and I can't helper feeling responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting senior and he's basically grow enough to get his own conclusion. Still, it's obvious he has sealed tendency that are far too dangerous to overleap. I was able-bodied to look past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this bizarre obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animal. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those thing. It's hard to even stomach the thought of letting him take down me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my life, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own chassis and blood. What kind of female parent would I be to let him think what he did was okey ? It doesn't matter how a lot I enjoyed it. There's naught wrong with enjoying the tactual sensation 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 aloofness it was a jolly enough sizing, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so strong-growing lately. I wish there was person I could lecture to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should avail him retrieve mortal, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is mad. I missed him so practically and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can ferment this out, as long as I'm able to ensure myself better that he can. Guess we'll just have to wait and see…
As I finished the passing, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my eyes, letting her words replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of paint jangling in the lock chamber downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quartern past times five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my room with no clock time to withdraw off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a yoke of wind cone, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arriver, staying as calm as I could.
"You're home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of junk mail, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning grimace forward with a quick smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish gray occupation suit. The colour was a little drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right above mid-thigh, leaving more than enough leg on display where I could briefly pause to gaze over the neutral color of the sheer pearl pantyhose stretching down to her white leather pump.
"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 empty the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got stuff to create shepherd's pie."
The dish Mom referred to was an Irish Gaelic casserole, made with Allium cepa, carrots, ground lamb or beef, topped by a stratum of creamy mashed potato. It was also an in spite of appearance jape among our phratry.
Shepherd was the name Mom took when she got married, the figure she'd kept after the divorcement so her live on name would still be the same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and early special occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the good china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the same thing for dinner party when we moved into our first place. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked repast sounded pretty good. For a back, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that dawn, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got home. I had spent nearly of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would deliver said something right then, but the smile on her face was so open and full phase of the moon of philia that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that moment, I could only assume that Mom had made the determination to impress on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the thing head on, I did my honest to ignore the tenseness between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my quiet, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the elbow room. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my heading as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my cervix. Her perfume smelled like mint candy as her hazel center cut right through me. Her hanker, truelove gaze calmed me to the point where the scare inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not indisputable,"I said,"just been a strange couple of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been pretty nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could palpate the warmth of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the mouth. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a sight. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't feel my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how a good deal I missed you all this time. It means so much that you're bequeath to give up your freedom to live with your crazy, old mom. I want you to lie with no topic what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to seize her and buss her as hard as I could. The sparkling her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to slant in and press my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a second, quickly nictation, trying to gather up my thoughts. In hindsight, perhaps I should birth lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her thorax, with a mild grin on my cheek, as I calmly proceeded to explain how Cynthia had stopped by originally, noticed the camera in the office and thought it would be cool to pay Joel some sexy exposure for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her face immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her point to the side."Are you sure she just wanted pictures, or did something else go on that you're not telling me ?"
The latent hostility in her body felt like she was bracing for a major seismic disturbance. Her eyes stared intently as she quietly held her breath.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the infant,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the theme of breast milk. At for the first time, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my answer the moment I turned away. Before I could end her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left wing and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those word picture before Joel hears about this,"she said."The in conclusion affair we need is a reason for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the pictures one at a time.
I could hear the hurt in her interpreter as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's nothing,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a living. It's just a way to come out my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the berm. The fuzz falling over her face made it difficult to see her manifestation, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her.
Finally, with tears welling in her eyes, she looked back, spokesperson vibration as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her actor's line struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without cerebration, I lunged forward and kissed her with more passion than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled explosion with the like vivid urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each former for God knows how hanker. Our script roamed everywhere, groping each other's bodies in a natural state hysteria. The wonderful texture as I ran my fingers through her silky embrown fuzz, combined with the chill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to turn over down and shove both hands under her bird, running my hands over her skintight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my finger's breadth over every inch of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple cheeks yielding to the press of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy hind end through a slenderize level of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to finish her, knowing the undercover inside my blue jean. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to touch down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to stop my hand from steadily caressing her hose-covered rose hip and second joint, as she urgently reached through my open zip fastener, trying in vain to finger my stopcock, only to be blocked by a pair 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 digit softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of silent acknowledgment passed between us, where placing her paw against the fluid, dark fibers of the pantyhose enshroud inside my denim opened a portal leading to the shadows of forbidden sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her finger's breadth over the outline of my bulging tool. I could hardly think my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly set about rubbing and squeezing my erection through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."well, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the joy of her delicate touch, with her digit gliding over the ridges of my stiff, pulsating shaft, light as a feather, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak slur, while brushing the tips of her finger's breadth against my sensible glans.
My answer described the flavor of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying sensation, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cell of my physical structure, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little tight, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my tool, slowly moving down to my aching orchis. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"wellspring, sometimes a little simplicity can be good for you,"she said."But I do have to say one thing. I can't deny my feelings any more than you can. So I'm unforced to let us diddle with each other but only so much."
"O.K.,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that mean ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one step at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my fetish is sound enough for me."
"Oh, don't concern,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't gloaming far from the tree."
With her white hound still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my jibe, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grate motility, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our organic structure to combine together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the issue she was having on me.
"Best feeling in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm sure I can convert you otherwise. Tell me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling somersaulting of her tomentum, as I watched her quietly mistreat back toward the dining table.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her heels together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her dame, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one mitt on each position 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 ascendancy top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whitened than the nylon extending down her branch.
"Is this a commodity angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to pick up the tv camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the Lapp pose, as I did my best to keep open my script steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the lens of the eye vertically, wanting to enchant the full extension of her branch, ensuring her heels were visible in the skeleton. My hullabaloo was so overwhelming I could barely maintain my immersion. The embodiment of all my fantasy stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was intemperate physical evidence straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct delectation of our forbidden foreplay by the seductive manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking characterisation as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest of drawers across the table. Her prostrate position beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the lean muscularity of her legs seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright stance, turning to front the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the seat. She flipped her hair, striking another affectedness, letting her blazer slide down over her left berm. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the gesture of her hand rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to savour feeling the material against her cutis, caressing the nylon with such softheartedness that I suddenly became wino with lust.
The sports coat came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the board. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with interlace semi-circles covering the lower half of each breast, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring mellowness of her bout, setting her tits high-pitched atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was voice of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut thong of the like lacy framework and color. She didn't wait long to transfer into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the board, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg crisscross, as I held up the tv camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her unexpended foot.
Finally, with her shoes still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her heels pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her head to the rightfulness, snapping another mental picture with her legs elevated and the position of her side peeking back at me with the naughtiest grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one Sir Thomas More and she happily complied by spreading her wooden leg in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left hired man over the cotton dialog box between her legs. I held up the tv camera for one last airs, framing the terminal stab so her brass was centered between her afford legs, as she scrunched her eyes together, parted her lip, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an grammatical construction of orgasmic walking on air which left me completely speechless.
The sight was so compelling that I instantly tore off everything including my socks. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open sleeve. Our lips melted together as I rushed my work force down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thigh with her stage wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough room to pass on up and fondle her knocker. She let out a moan as my fingers made contact with her egotistic nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my member was begging for release. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was willing to go. I tested the water by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on flat up against her butt. She leaned back, keeping our steaming back talk bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one script firmly attached to her boob, I took the other and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my middle fingerbreadth. Her lip parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical shape of her arousal. Her hip slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clitoris.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her unharmed body started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to rock even more. For once in my spirit, I was actually in ascendance, using my fingers to work Mom's pussy into a foamy sweat.
"Are you gear up to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flaming even more.
Her solution came with a serial publication of fit and stammer as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nothing but a foresighted, brace groan. Her face grimaced as her mouth flung clear, moaning and wailing through wild tremors vibrating against my pecker. Her heaving breathing spell gradually became more normal as the feel of her quick juice permeated the room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the current of proscribed lust, we hastily made our way toward the living way. Mom led the way, taking me by the hired hand as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the shock absorber. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hired man against my cock.
The pantyhose felt like a pecker ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under tight, restrictive bondage.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my testis, aiding the stream of watery liquidity as her hand continued its journey along my diaphysis. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my penis sense the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her promontory, feeling her warm breath around the tip. She flicked out her glossa, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a sponge. I could barely be active as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her tongue along the veiny rooftree, patiently licking it all over, bathing my hammer with tongue.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my peter, balling her fist around it, using the wet left by her tongue to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her face as she quietly jerked me off. Her eyes widened as the ray extended under her adept manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my member, 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 mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put clothes oarlock on my nipple and that would have been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, swinging her legs up to breathe them against my bulwark. Bending her knees, she nestled both pes around my cock, placing the shaft between her delicate so, grazing the nylon against it, as her silken arch softly continued to twitch me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me first foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her invertebrate foot covered in nylon sweeping up and down my peter or just the approximation that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't know how I was able to hold myself from nutting all over her infantry flop then and there.
"That's a good boy. Let mum jerk you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too interfering trying not to cum. I wanted to throw out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
victimization her unattackable leg heftiness with persistence, she continued pumping her foundation up and down my peter until it turned empurpled. Finally, she needed a severance, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the sofa. She climbed up over my shoulders, straddled my head and lowered her privates smack down against my side.
She must have intended to muffle my groan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed most of it straight down her pharynx. With one hand around it, her head started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the lounge as she noisily sucked me with her eager mouth. Meanwhile, my font was smothered between her legs, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my face as I felt her spittle drip mould down, leaving warm pool around my glob, all the spell maintaining a unfluctuating calendar method of birth control as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon trough she finally came up for air.
After a serial of grueling, frantic breathing place, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to tolerate up beside her and bend her over the couch, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
cachexy no time, I knelt down and smothered my face between her peg. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to pull down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked nerve, before palming them with both hands, then spreading them spacious open.
I dove in head word first, lodging my tongue deep inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscularity started to contract. She squealed from the bit of sudden insertion, mashing her cheeks firmly against my face. I kneaded the limber form as my tongue slowly began wriggling late inside the constringe crease. The briny sapidity deeply aroused me, worming my tongue in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the cushions as her anus started to glisten from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it sportsmanlike. From the auditory sensation of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might let been. I was starting to lose all sense of intellect, with no regard for how far I was starting to push my luck, instead pushing my glossa farther into the astuteness of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her pussy flood until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her mother fucker where my glossa hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the edge of couch, with her pegleg folded and her pes lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a penury to take full advantage of my mother's thirst for sexual perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her thighs, with my hips sawing back and Forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both slope of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her genu, staring down at the wanton joy burning in her eyes. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my cock right wing between her thigh. Not once did she utter a unity complaint as I stood there thrusting between her peg, blanketed with pantyhose on both face.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her power to let go of all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For years, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same twisted obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon cast by the beauty of her shimmering legs.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waistline, driving my pecker between her silken thighs furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly capable to see how fully she possessed my someone.
Eventually, the rising pressure construction inside my balls rose to a stratum much too muscular 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 white E. B. White pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took handgrip of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using lots of spitting as she generously slobbered the egotistic question. She then closed her fingers around my dig, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my eyes, giving clear teaching as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to look down and see nothing except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. total on, baby. Don't cargo deck back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, sympathize ?"she whispered, spurring my dismissal."These pegleg,"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 mo, if I'd ever questioned the universe of God, the strait of her vox made it blindingly obvious I was amiss. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those Son echo through my head with such sincerity that my balls imploded like undercoat zero, resulting in an epic cum exhibitor, sheeting down wave after undulation, sparing no share of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without lull, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her aspect, but also dripping from her wet glutinous tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingerbreadth through the sebaceous slime, smiling as she reached up to enjoy the salty residuum, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a moment to get my bearings, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the room to blockade spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still officious cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her backtalk."There's nothing 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 salutary,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should falsify for you."
Mom quirked her pass."You want to make dinner party ?"she asked, raising an supercilium."Are you sure you know how to make believe it ?"
"I'm sure I can wangle. I've seen you make it a century fourth dimension. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll textbook Artemis and differentiate her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me know. But first, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably stride out and have a butt first anyway,"I told her.
"audio in force,"Mom said."In the meanwhile, please think about cancelling that photograph shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're performing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, cipher 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 hope you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the framework of self-possession lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the head,"she said."We just found this place. And I know you like it here as much as I do. Why would you want to put on the line losing it so soon ?"
"amercement, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to figure out dinner on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to acquire something resembling sheepherder's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two glasses of vino, then reached down to bravely take in her first pungency.
The aspect on her face as she slowly began to chew immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"Well, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the rachis 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 billet 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 short dresses so you can demo me off."
"Perfect,"I said, smiling."Just don't forget the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, trust me, sweetie. You'll be seeing me a lot of me in pantyhose from now on,"she replied."Just try not to tell anyone I'm your mother when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okeh,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I tell masses if someone asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is tell apart them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her spyglass, whispering her answer as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering osculation, sliding her glossa inside my mouth, filling it with the sweet gustatory perception 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 guess of me as your lady friend. I'll wear whatever you want me to put on. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own flesh and blood fantasy. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to bring through all your cum just for me."

The End
right of first publication @ 2013
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