Shepherd's Pie
By worldly concern holy person

It all started when I was 10 years old, the year my parents got divorced, a convention age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to have his obsession with Grand Theft automobile blindsided by his start crush.
I had just started Jnr senior high, where they made us read boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to understand the danger of out lust, yet old enough to detect how my female parent would often do the aphrodisiac things without knowing it.
Things might consume been dissimilar had my mother been more willing to let me out of her wad. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her blackguard 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 more than queer propensity.
She had an extensive shoe accumulation, near of which were high-pitched heels. 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 matter what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her backtalk. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a shuck. If she was sitting at home marking papers, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about sport. She just enjoyed wearing her accommodate jersey and a pair of leotards, rooting for whichever team had the cutest quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her backtalk together and gently blow until it was gone. The feeling excited me so very much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished senior high school school, I was so exploited to being by my female parent's side that leaving for college to a lesser extent than an hour away filled me with highly conflate emotions due to all the amazing memories left behind.
By my 3rd yr at Emerson, the novelty of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each exit day, I was growing more solitary and homesick, with no girl and only a few male friend to help pop the boredom.
One dreary afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blue, with the group approximation of finding a new flat for us to hold out together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with long, flowing, chestnut tree brown tomentum, hazelnut tree centre, flat cheeks and skinny lips set between her oval Chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotard from her glory days of high schoolhouse gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for residue beam. Still, she kept her body in tremendous shape, wearing trendy turnout that proudly displayed her pert chest, tight ass, and better of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my female parent was the hottest woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a full blow obsession. I tried my C. H. Best to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the twelvemonth, she started to worry that I seemed to deliver no stake in other daughter.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the thought of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a diminished, pudgy apartment. My roommate was a full slob. Yet, in spite of the head ache, and as lots as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to pass my junior yr getting hammered every dark and screwing as many co-eds as possible. At to the lowest degree, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in realism, I was still the same skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and make cumbersome jokes around girls my own age, to the point where even the ugly ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favorite mental picture of her on my cell phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and cypher made me cum firm than looking at film of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as long as I could commend I had always been captivated by my mother's stage. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up consequence planning to teach merchandising at a nearby community college where the fair sex on faculty often wore pantyhose under their skirts. By that time, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many age. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this introductory factor of her day-after-day business attire distinctly brought out the noteworthy beauty and dimension of her yearn, sinuous branch.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that metre, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to interrogate why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first place. As unflawed as they looked by themselves, their mesmerizing core immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary undergarment was imbued with extraordinary power luring my eyes to linger over the supple tone of her tend, slender calfskin, moving up to the meaty shape of her firm sculpted thigh, where her prospicient, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the voluminosity of her coxa, topped by a set of red-hot round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering yarn of nylon.
Though I'd long blank out the very first clip that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an urgent impulse to front down and gaze over the blinding nimbus emanating from her legs. From the stern of all her inadequate doll, down to the tips of her toes, each pair she wore had the power to enthrall me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a exclusive day went by where I wasn't sitting at home waiting for her to walk in and give up off her aphrodisiac heels. My dreamy center followed as she tiptoed around the star sign, lost in the quick glow of her shining pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the Sir Thomas More I became desperate to feed my growing compulsion at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't strange for me to extract out my television camera and get her to pose for me out in populace. She'd always been the type of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing interest in picture taking. Eventually, I managed to compile 12 of pictures, all of which focused on her retentive, gorgeous pegleg. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her characterization after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to note being her son.
My favorite characterisation for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before didactics, working in corporate America had given her many years to spring up this finical skill. As a aim professional, she was far too elegant to adopt one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her head up and her chirpy breasts pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, sweep her handwriting under her dame, then with full university extension, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky stem, the lush contours visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid apparent motion, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously utter conjunction, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the former, sweeping against the cereal, a thrilling sound that instantly made my prick throb audition that subtle swish.
oceanic abyss down, I knew it was improper. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my female parent as the hottest woman on Earth. Her part alone sent shivering down my spine, with the utter phraseology and dignified control of a well-trained, highly surefooted educator, with only the slender shadow of a distinctive New England emphasis.
Despite being over forty, her nutritious diet and friendly behaviour gave her a youthful luminescence. She barely ate more than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two sea mile every morning. While it was clearly a overconfident thing, her healthy lifestyle only encouraged my physical attraction to continue edifice and become more powerful each day.
Her bra size was an middling 34-B. Yet, her small bureau proudly stood out in contrast with her petite waistline, jutting from the slight material of her tight blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to imagine she still had needs. Yet, to my limited noesis, after the divorce, she had no men in her life. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much fourth dimension worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had fourth dimension to date. She should have had offers lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might own been somewhat biased by my own forbidden calf love and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell number flashed up across the screen. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her dependable delineation, taken in time foursquare. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a fatal miniskirt, black pumps, and a radiant pair of suntan pantyhose gleaming in wide daytime.
I snapped the picture just as Mom walked over to present next to a tall New York street lamp. It was like she could register my thoughts as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only half visible under her long hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her go forth human knee behind her back. She stood there holding the pose for several seconds, with one shoe playfully lifted off the ground and a grin on her face as bright as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the headphone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to notice the noisy jingle of belt, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something crucial I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her voice that told me it must be sober. Still, I'd just spent the finale five instant drooling over her aphrodisiacal pic. I'd even pulled out a duad of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her bureau on my last trip home. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My dick was already throbbing. All I could guess about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my handwriting, then taking my silky fingerbreadth and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the Sir Thomas More she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two months,"she said."I just got a alphabetic character that my tear is increasing by almost 200 dollar. There's no way I can open that."
"Okay,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not okay,"she said."I'm going to have to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd tactile property if I moved up to Boston."
At that item here and now, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so well around my hammer that I almost blurted out yes without cerebration, just for the chance to be up close and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it practically thought myself. I'm just not sure as shooting what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to imagine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random question hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's couch,"she said."I'm on my lunch good luck. Why ?"
"No ground,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her stage crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one shoe off her human foot, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's amercement,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that make things easier ?"
"You're the right way,"she said."That's actually the real cause why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been looney about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a nice blank space for the two of us."
It took me another moment to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the smooth velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely contract. I was too busy wondering what her disengage hand was doing as she sat there with one script holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her fingers over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at home ? Was she dipping one base in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to have intercourse for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's lounge, in entire view of anyone walking by.
"cum on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always notice oeuvre at another campus. Plus we can find a plaza with Sir Thomas More space for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her chick riding up, framing her cordiform ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose voider 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 prize about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roomie, even if our lease was calendar month to calendar month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some soil rules,"I added, when I started to recognize the freedoms I'd be giving up purely to see her wooden leg every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to make the rules now, huh ? okay. Like what ?"
"aught major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure enough we'll respect each former's seclusion. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guy wire household or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to interest about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My adhesive friction was wet, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more delicate friction to my teasing hand strokes.
"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 infinite to smoke skunk and looseness with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's zilch you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the hell,"I said, voicing my pain in the ass."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her initiative reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her words carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a piddling bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very freehanded. It doesn't make sense that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plentifulness of real women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit skittish."I never knew you had such a thing for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should stick in 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 Sir Thomas More stimulating."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a second, as I lied there waiting for her solution. The lift in her voice told me she was smiling on the early end.
"You must have got been reading my mind,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but compliment all day. It was nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"Cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon River."I can't postponement to see how they look."
"Well, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at places in the dawning. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd lovemaking to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be nerveless tomorrow. You might need to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be all right,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my blue 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 jeans,"I repeated, resisting the impulse to moan."I supposition that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Oh, it's mulct,"I said, knowing it would only be another bit or so before I exploded all over my paw."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 certain you tell jemmy to wear some pants this prison term. It's a little awkward seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a monster."But then again, you can't really blame him. That wench you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal length. The skirt I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"Well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you stay fresh your students from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's kind 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 true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your female parent, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal second. In 19 old age, my mother 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 vocalise my unnatural desire to run my hands over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy peg. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an resolution intended to hide my confessedly feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to contain a Wyrd good turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, tell me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the Lapp time."Seriously, I want to know,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a monolithic blast."Do you intend I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those contaminating internet site ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't tell whether she wanted the truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should babble out about this anymore."
"O.K., fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to clear you uncomfortable. Just tell me one thing. Which part of a woman's trunk do you like most ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My best option was to agitate back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we fell 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 surd 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 sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this whole mind. It's bad enough you can't find a lady friend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you finger even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the last fourth dimension,"I said, starting to fall back it."If I really wanted a lady friend, 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 metre. I certainly don't want you having sexual intellection about me. Surely, I don't have to enjoin you how incompatible that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how unfitting it was. In that present moment, I honestly didn't fear. By then, I was pummeling my putz with a payback, bent on ruining her pantyhose no affair what, dying to soak every train of thought with a massive wad of thick greasy spunk, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the unerasable memories that triggered my fetich in the first place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing gauzy pantyhose with no chick on. I could see her returning from work in her pitch-dark fuck-me heart, the stale olfactory sensation of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swell human foot. I could even project the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hips switching from side to side, pretending not to make love how men spun toward the auditory sensation of her fortify heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to come home, strip down off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the trammel, leaving them for me to scavenge, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my knife over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My shocking memories pushed me right over the edge. With each violent squirt, I was forced to stifle my itch to moan, watching spirt of semen blast into the air, surging from the head of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my mitt, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no estimate what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my foolhardy act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to amass myself, leading with a intemperate sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to turn over you. Maybe we should just flow up now."
"No,"she said, softening her note."Don't hang up. I know you were just being fair. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an of import determination, I think you should tell me everything. severalize me the truth, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one hand, by saying no, she'd most likely sense that I was lying, which would only pass water her angry and potentially spoil any chance of us moving back in together. On the other hand, telling the truth would most likely freak her out so much that she might not verbalize to me again for months, and that was even worse.
Normally, in site like this, where I wasn't exactly trusted what to do, the first thing I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the just way to resolve her question was to turn it around and ask her a inquiry of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before knavishly attempting to redirect."But first off I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a curtly breath."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your head. I think if we're going to live together, then you have to call to witness a girl and go living in the rattling world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"good,"she said."I'll see you in the aurora. And don't forget to play back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next break of day, Mom showed up right on agenda, in a form-fitting, black, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her first gear initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver necklace which failed to maintain me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her launch neckline. Her blue skinny jeans sat low on her shapely pelvis, hugging every bender under skin-tight jean, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, pitch blackness leather sandals, with thin straps spanning over her naked feet.
Looking down at the cuff of her jeans, the inaugural thing I noticed was the disturbing absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole night tossing and turning in anticipation of seeing them the succeeding morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how concerned she was talking about my fetich. So the last thing I wanted to do was call any undue tending to it right away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roomy, jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grin on his side told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handclasp. For a few minutes, she and jemmy stood there making humble talk of the town, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak to me in my room.
I led her back to my sleeping room and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her death duet of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse off out the pair I'd taken from her chest. So I promptly fished them from the pile of laundry 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 sustain been hurrying too a good deal to realise that I'd purposely left the doorway slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the peg down gap, knowing it was wrong, yet still unable to tear my optic from watching her undress.
With her vertebral column turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a time, enjoying the cover girl sight of denim smothering her taut rung butt. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her helping hand went up to her incline. She hooked her thumbs into the constrict sash and promptly began squirming and wiggling her pelvic girdle position to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a thong, resisting the urge to puff as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her nude ass. My dick instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a clear horizon of her outer pussy mouth, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jemmy would take the air by and see me standing there at any minute. Still, my incredible destiny was too good to pass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with prediction as she wisely removed the jewelry from her fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her spry fingerbreadth rolled up the low gear leg. She then lifted her left pes, then reached down and slid the ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slew the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended articulatio genus. She set down her left foot, then steadily raised the early, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her in good order ft inside the opponent arm, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon inch by in over her supple thigh, and finally squirming to compact her shapely hips under the straining cincture, making one net registration to argumentation up the stitching along her narrow butt on crack, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a terrifically level of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a duad of half-moons.
I could have stood there watching forever, but my inherent aptitude told me to quit while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and enamor me at any moment.
I went back to the living room to encounter jimmy rolling a reefer, which I'd come to bear as piece of his morning routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a yearn talk where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, jemmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to locomote in with his girlfriend in a few weeks anyway. Fortunately, there were no backbreaking feelings between us, especially when I stopped to deliberate who my new roommate was soon to be.
instant later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her jolly base. I promptly turned and hurried toward the doorway, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her view. We left my flat and set out to find our new berth, quickly escaping so Mom could avoid Jimmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the wheel and turned on the local eighties station. The song on the radio thankfully managed to calm my erection as I route beside her, shifting my nidus toward the highly ironic lyrics.
"Every short matter she does is a magic. Everything she do just wrench me on…"
We then proceeded to drop the next couple of time of day going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second storey walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The house was owned by a Edward Young, newlywed duad named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first storey. Joel was a successful declarer in the city. Cynthia was a late nursemaid turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birth to their offset youngster. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the size of her enormous tits which seemed to calculate for nearly half her body weight unit, especially considering how short-circuit she was. If I had to guess, I would give said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital 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 slope and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the same eminent shoal as my mother, only eight years later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our eyes. The position had literally everything we wanted, high gear ceilings, hardwood floors, with tons of space, including a big eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the leftfield was a combining dining and livelihood room surface area, divided by sliding double doorway. On the right was a belittled post, a small Edgar Albert Guest can, then the kitchen, followed by a small depot space, with a door to the rachis porch, and stairs leading up to the attic. The attic had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two bedrooms, and a great master bath.
Mom and I signed the rental in a matter of daylight, agreeing to move in by October 1st.
The relocation itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired movers to do by all the big furniture. Then, on William Ashley Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hr. Sometime around noonday, Mom figured I was probably thirsty and realized we had no nutrient. I offered to take up 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 volume and photo albums, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, cold, leather-bound daybook which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the vacuous room and quietly cracked open the kickoff Sir Frederick Handley Page.
The first gear entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If storage served me correctly, it was only six calendar month after my parents'divorce.
The first few debut weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing house she'd worked at during her marriage. She'd already completed her teaching corroboration and put in her two-weeks poster. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own dream when all Dad wanted was mortal More traditional and subservient. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much happier with his new trophy wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except travel on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when things started to cull up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something weirdo happened today. I made out with Mike Louis Henri Sullivan in the stairwell over by his agency. I'm not even surely why I did it. He's almost 10 years jr. than me. Plus he's so replete of himself, really not my type. He hasn't stop flirting with me ever since he heard I was back on the grocery, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to promote him. It wasn't my decision to travel the copier outside his place. I love how he always comes over and sink his pen on the floor. It used to form me uncomfortable, but now I just spiel along. At first, he would drop it and find fault it right back up. Now he likes to footle down there and stare at my legs for a patch. It's pretty funny to find out. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same thing. He must really like my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The close thing I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about Mike. Weary Willie and Robin are throwing a goodbye political party for me tomorrow dark. mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His dick got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the adult female in the office. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollars on a brand new political party frock and that son of a cunt didn't even show up. Oh well, his deprivation I guess. God knows there were plenty of other Guy there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra mark. Maybe I'll wear it again next workweek. It was kind of odd being the shopping centre of care, but I think I could get used to it. I know American robin was pretty green-eyed. I told her to stop buying me shots. Besides, no one puts stripper Pole in a bar full phase of the moon of bibulous woman expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my cunt for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm indisputable mike would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his shaft. I really call for to get fucked. I should probably commit in a beneficial vibrator. I would have bought one month ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find it. He's always sneaking into my elbow room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my panty drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The net thing I want to receive is a huge cum stain on one of my satin lash. I guess at some dot I'll have a lecture with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really bid his founding father were here…
I would receive kept indication but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the elbow room. I headed back downstairs trying to work on all the distort thought process scrambling through my creative thinker. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or sinless as I'd always believed. She seemed to revel getting attention from youthful men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The sentiment of Mom willingly behaving like a jade really got me excited. I stepped out onto the hind porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to calm myself down.
The horizon from the back porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the drape were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the street corner of the way, I spotted an hollow rocking chair, next to what looked like the railings on a infant's crib. I flicked my coffin nail, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the baby in her weapon. Even from such a mellow angle, it was virtually impossible to bet down and see anything early than her humongous tits. The figure reminded me of those IMAX movies where they show you the solid ground from infinite and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't help grinning at the luminosity blueing push up sweater she was wearing. The cloth was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another pull of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already horny as fuck, as I watched Cynthia reach up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her left breast bust through the curtain raising of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her babe's sass over her puff up teat. My whole lifetime I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and forth. I've always preferred legs, but there was no denying the beauty of Cynthia's phenomenal jug. The size of her white meat reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the lettuce until it rose into flabby, round, flesh-colored mound. The longer I watched, the more I found myself jealous of her little boy and the blissful expression on his cheek as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my dick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front door. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back inside.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a forgetful, ling gray, New England Patriots T-shirt, with black spandex yoga pants, and a couple of brown fur-lined flush. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no make-up, yet I still wanted to bend her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get a good deal done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's fine. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The ease were all stacked in the dining room.
"commodity 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 fanny, while Mom leaned against the parry and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my cervix and her legs stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't elect that exact moment to set her ass on top of my breakwater. The frown on her face instantly told me she could feel how hard I was. I expected her to skip over right up. Instead, she just sat there for a 2nd, looking at me with this tortured look on her face like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this frigidity, aloof face in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the telephone call over again. Only this time, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to wait her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my foreland. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the smoothness of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leging felt more like velvety tights, not curve like pantyhose, yet every bit as voiced to the cutaneous senses. On the plus slope, 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 blazonry in figurehead of her.
"Maybe you should tell me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to face her, I lifted my sweaty laurel wreath 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 fountainhead."Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the theatre like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you think back what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that easy. It takes time."
"Okay, maybe you're in good order,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just get to look at 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 legitimate thing to do in that situation would take in probably been to fend up and go to my way. Instead of doing that, I chose to arrive at igniter of the berth, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was willing to have a mother wit of witticism about the whole thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just scald it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn over away. Then she slowly twisted her head teacher back, arms folded as she glared at me through the specify slits of her eyes.
"You haven't got the clump to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been respectable at sports. In schooltime, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in grade. miss pointed and laughed at my scrawny human body, knowing I was too chicken to fight back back. I'd been putting up with bullies for as tenacious as I could recollect. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zip fastener, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"Okay, sentence out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your pants, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip heterosexual person at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a meek laugh and an obvious smirk on her brass."So you just require me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is pattern ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some cheek,"Mom said, dropping her head to her chest, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a brief bit, she slowly raised her brain up, responding with a light nod, as she quietly answered."mulct, do what you want. I can't diaphragm you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would have been easy to end right there. I could sustain easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in front man of me. She wasn't a smoking carriage and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own rule about smoking inside the business firm. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the mesa, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistry that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in disgraceful spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a drag of roll of tobacco."You're favorable 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 script's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a s, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in hand, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a small charge card nursing bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chairman where I was sitting. Bottle in hired man, she leaned over the chief of my hammer, squirting out a generous chunk of creamy application, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"testament that aid ?"she said, with a grin on her face which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my phallus around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled clenched fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all slope, enabling me to enjoy the touch sensation of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my rigid shaft, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my proficiency, imagining one day to feel her hand instead of my own. The expression on her face lacked any form of formulation, as if to prevent me from noticing any signs of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her rosehip."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could turn around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and read you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I look at your ass ?'”
hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of unquestioning magnate, prompted the increased calendar method of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I look at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out less than three in from my human face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how honorable it looks."
"Mmm, so commodity,"I answered quickly."Your ass is thoroughgoing. Really, it's perfect."
My rima oris watered at the good deal of her smutty leging stretched taut over the curve of her firm shapely rump. She kept her feet together, accentuating the slope where the pocket-size of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the sloshed fabric, so amazingly circle and broad, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, deluxe bubble.
"I'm sword lily you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just crook over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any to a greater extent orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my intimation."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."
With no wavering, I jumped out of my fundament, expecting my mother to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her indicator finger, directing me to stand in straw man of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden seat, keeping her legs together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her compressed glutes,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then show me,"she said."Show me how horny you are right now. Let me feel it. Let me feel that hot cargo all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the auditory sensation of her voice nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to buck off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga pants ?
I should bear accepted it for the exclusive right that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to oppose, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock smack up against her fanny, a forceful collision softened by the leggings and the meaty flesh underneath, the perfect cushion for my throbbing penis to grind against her smoothen, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified shrieking, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal protest as I violently started thrusting my rosehip back and Forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said cipher in return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my tool. Her articulation was raspy and out of breath, with her head forward, hairsbreadth swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so voiceless. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes infant, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me finger your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an sexual climax quite like that, let alone seen so much touchwood come gushing out of my cock like a violate water main. The personnel of each spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my wooden leg gave out. My typeface was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our body mashed together, the lingering sentiency of her flaccid cheeks pressed up against my rooster milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching balls.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the grim legging spreading over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick layer of ovalbumin creamy foam, rolling down the Negroid spandex, then pooling in the gap of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist kitty-cat.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for Son as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go change,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained quieten. I watched as she reached back, sliding her finger through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, ripe idea,"she said, slowly rising to her foundation."Just try to void getting another hard-on in the adjacent ten moment, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only acquire she needed as a lot time to work on what had just happened as I did. We spent the eternal sleep of the day quietly arranging article of furniture and unpacking most of our things. Mom spent most of her sentence in the kitchen, while I worked in the life room hooking up our telecasting and stereo. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some supporter from school day who were hanging out downtown. By the metre I got habitation, Mom had already gone to bed.
The succeeding dawning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty theater. It was Mon and Mom had apparently already left for study. I'd woken up with barely adequate time to grab a quick exhibitor, stroke on some clothes and race off to get to my morning class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to worry that my goosy actions had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a banker's bill with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to division, the fear of Mom telling me to move out made it virtually impossible to concentrate on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought process of going home, sealed of what was destined to issue forth.
My final examination family ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, jimmy had kindly given me two snow leopard of Blue Dream. So I figured the best thing to do was go home, smoke a arena and have a couple beers, just to groom myself for the foul humor my female parent was sure to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the house, I instantly remembered my female parent's diary, 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 varlet, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
Dec 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the center. 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 patronage suit like he could have been a attorney or something. I needed some coffee tree so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my bum, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my pegleg. I could birth got up and found another posterior, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and kept my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd relocation on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd aim the hint and go away. He must take in thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a minute, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how queasy he was to approach me. I was kind of insulted, but then I figured if all he wanted was a appearance then why not establish him one just to bang with his caput. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them assailable to show him the black flip-flop I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four metre, crossing my pegleg back and Forth River. Each time, I held my legs open for a back, letting him see up my dame. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to come after me down to the brake shoe store.
I'd found a gravid lot on a pitch-dark pair of jemmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice glossy conclusion. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The Bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my Black person thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some twist keep me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the workbench thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my legs open and my skirt up around articulatio coxae, working my feet into the horseshoe. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play destitute with his back turned. At that gunpoint, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the outlet and turned around to see if he was still behind me. Sure enough, he walked out with a grin on his face like he hadn't done anything wrong. By then, I was so pissed off that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a cleaning woman with beautiful legs. I asked if he got off peeking up women's skirts. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a snatch or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to take me out for a drink to see if he could change my opinion. He looked a minuscule furious when I turned him down, making the misapprehension of asking if I was just a prickteaser. So then I decided to learn 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 shaft. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the windowpane and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my palm, taking his dick in one hand, while using the early to slowly pull up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my button, while using the early to stroke his stopcock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his consignment rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The transit ended there, but the rousing effect lingered in my vivid imaging longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without question my first clear evidence that the cleaning woman who raised me and handed down all of my lesson was willing to engage in extreme, risky, sexual doings with seemingly any young man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and intuitive feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner loose woman, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my mother's morose face, determined to see how far she was willing to go to fill her deepest intimate desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the sofa, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard stride coming up the stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the gossamer from my head, as I walked toward the sound of soul knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Book of Joel standing there wearing his tool belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a bright orange satin nightie.
"goodness morning,"she said, over a mysterious oscitancy, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a nonplus look, as I glanced down at her bleary pink slippers."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would hold come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your hubby. But that's cool. follow on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a pull myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focalise on her brass."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a lean of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, bathroom cesspit, and one of the abstemious replacement in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."grass alarm probably needs a new stamp battery. If the light permutation 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 unforesightful blond hairsbreadth, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left field, creating a lovely inning for the fullness of her round, chubby face. Knowing how decisive some women are, she might have described herself as overweight. In my legal opinion, the extra babe weightiness just made her look more toothsome. Her pelvis were fairly broad, yet her stomach was still pretty flat, with a brace of incredibly immense detractor, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a petty under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and set over beside the radiator.
From that slant, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no polite way to keep myself from staring down at her giant hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's tits reminded me of those heavy grip down at the gym, two of them, side to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did curiosity for her teat 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 best to salvage her common sense of urgency, hoping not to blockade her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave work until five or six. She's more sensitive to the cold than I am. My old apartment was practically bad. Not to bring up, we trust you."
"well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first renter since we bought this place…hate to start off on the amiss foot,"she added."The radiator seems fine, must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the child. I can fix it right after that."
"phone good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and tick out the sump too. I just need to put on some existent clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be goodness to wear a little more succeeding prison term, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her night-robe had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a short distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless endeavor to cover up, making her breast substance jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to hold on my orb inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in front of the office, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a rocking horse. When I was Edward Young, I had this ambition of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or Playboy,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's cool,"she said, smiling."You mean like cover girl 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 chance upon me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a baseball glove Romney bumper sticker, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"wellspring, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the more Cynthia reminded of the girls I knew back in high-pitched schoolhouse, the ace who'd been spoiled since giving birth and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy tendency, suitable in this case considering her rich bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."side by side calendar month is our second gear anniversary. I wasn't sure what to get Joel as a endowment, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some nice glamour gibe, you know, something sexy to add some spicery back to our family relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her union. Still, I couldn't ignore the pernicious coquetry of this desperate housewife or the rapidly growing erection in my pant.
"Umm, sure, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and take some test shots, but otherwise, I should stimulate everything we need."
She then wasted no clip stepping into the billet, where she leaned up against the rampart and slowly proceeded to skin down the ripe strap of her nightie, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here employment for you ?"
"I'll use the flash,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the here and now the camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so much sureness in front of the lens system. The innocent, feisty housewife who'd showed up just mo earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering coquette, with two perfectly pouting lips and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating effect of her sticky blue eyes. Yet, the sultry tone on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely organise me for the moment she crossed her branch together, thrusting her teat toward the camera like dual airbags, completely filling up the frame with More cleavage than my psyche could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various pose, when I mildly requested that we step over across the anteroom. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hand, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need lots instruction as she stretched out, extending her peg, with her headway tilted back, and her breast pointed up toward the cap.
"nous if I ask you a personal question,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left side, returning my doubtfulness with a knowing smile.
"You want to bonk how big they are."
"Well, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be smaller 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 strapped to your chest. It form of feel like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my mind."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Artemis nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm breast feeding. But I'd rather do that than use normal, to a greater extent nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My bosom milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than steady Milk. I try to eat lots of yield to make it sweeter. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these photo and see which angles work best. Let me have a go at it when you have time for a good photo shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need fourth dimension to think about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The equanimity in her voice combined with her tier regard gave me a giddy feeling as I set down the camera, then pulled out a electric chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed matter couldn't possibly get weirder, this womanhood I barely knew was offering to let me taste her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my start pulsing was to bury my expression between her chest and powerboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial stupor prevented me from speaking after hearing her go out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my case which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little rum.
She seemed to delight teasing me as her right on manus slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder strap. travail beadwork formed across my brow as she fixed her middle on me and quietly peeled down the other. My centre concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her monolithic chest, where Artemis reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently relieve down the shiny fabric. Finally, with a lump in my pharynx, I looked on intently as Artemis managed to draw out her enormous jugful.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't fathom how a woman so small could end up with titmouse that big. Each one was prominent than my chief and must have weighed at least ten Pound, as I sat there entranced by the size and conformation of these two gigantic ball, hovering inches from my human face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with stretch stain along both sides of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's tits were far too dense to escape the effects of sobriety, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue really started to jiggle.
needle to say, I was totally stunned as Artemis pulled her mammilla out for all their glory, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to love how lofty she was of her immense 38FFs.
posing in the president, my centre were level with her pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her dark areolas, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked fingerbreadth, stopping me when I leaned in too stuffy.
"Don't put your rima oris on it,"she said."Just sit back, out-of-doors broad, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed Holy Order, leaning my head back, then parting my back talk receptive and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her pollex and index on each side of her justly nipple. Then, using spark atmospheric pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The number one sprinkle squirted from her tit like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was complete, pointing her pap directly in straw man of my oral fissure. I instantly closed my centre, compelled by the demand to burn this moment deep into my memory forever. The spirit seemed to vivify something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, lemony liquid filling my open backtalk magically transported me back to early childhood. She stopped me for a import, giving me time to taste the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouthpiece. My eyes opened just in time to see her lifting her early breast, which soon began streaming milk over my knife as well.
As Artemis continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my clapper through the warm nectar, letting the flavor seep into every box of my sass, tingling my taste buds, as the world around me faded into a distant blur.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best affair I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet-smelling,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really treasure your help with the pictures. But I should probably manoeuvre back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's amercement, whenever,"I said, trying my dependable to seem nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't assistant myself from testing the waters just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you feel about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us get into them all the fourth dimension at the hospital. You know, like those worthless white compression hosepipe. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter belted ammunition ?"
"Hmm, that's an estimation too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nurse's turnout, with white heels and glossy clean hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just take in me look good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a abbreviated hug and a gentle osculation on the impudence, as I closed the threshold, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the time Cynthia left, I felt like a sum up zombie. My putz was so hard I could barely walk, like all the blood in the respite of my body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some type of sacking, as I slowly cower back upstairs, looking to feel Mom's journal once again.
This meter I wasn't just looking for any random transit. Instead, I entered my mother's elbow room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the escort of her tardy entry. My chest heaved the moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut touch sensation that something inside her wanted it to hap too. In my brain, the opening was so tantalizing that the forbidden exhilaration 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 idea came from, maybe from being in such a frigidness room. Or maybe it was just my natural instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled open my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a luxurious spile of high quality cleaning lady's hosiery, in a people of colors, normal and heaviness levels. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the bounty of nylon unmentionable spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose buffet. I rummaged through the voltaic pile, searching until my hands came across a feather Light Within couplet of silky, midnight Joseph Black pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my denim and underwear, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to mess up my way through it, taking instructions from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her jean. With the pantyhose drawn up over my stifle, I then had to puzzle out out stretching the nylon over my cock and musket ball. My dick stood up like a flag pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its limit, drawing the waistband several inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the lance flat up against my stomach. That beginning instant of total encasement from the waist down filled my unscathed physical structure with tingling electricity. I wasn't certain why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own placid legs took me to a level of fervor I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my member beneath the cloth, making me feel right at home.
Ready to start indication, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my female parent letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her teat, and the wild anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my lading as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity level running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the gage, sent me into a dreamlike United States Department of State as I quietly turned down to the page.
Sep 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting different lately. I love him to death and I can't avail tone responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting older and he's basically grown enough to pee-pee his own decisions. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendencies that are far too severe to overlook. I was able to take care past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even disregard all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetence 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 matter. It's severe to even endure the mentation of letting him disgrace 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 human body and bloodline. What kind of mother would I be to let him think what he did was okay ? It doesn't matter how much I enjoyed it. There's cipher legal injury with enjoying the feeling of mortal finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to attract it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a pretty right sizing, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was someone I could verbalize to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him find somebody, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is crazy. I missed him so much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work this out, as long as I'm able-bodied to control myself meliorate that he can. Guess we'll just cause to wait and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my eyes, letting her row instant replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of tonality jangling in the ringlet downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter yesteryear five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the diary back in the box, then ran to my room with no time to rent off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a brace of air-sleeve, and promptly walked down to recognise her sudden arrival, 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 sight of junk mail, as I noticed a bag of foodstuff resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning aspect forward with a quick smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather courteous in her stylish Gray job suit. The color 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 sufficiency leg on exhibit where I could briefly pause to gaze over the electroneutral color of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her White person 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 make sheepman's pie."
The serve Mom referred to was an Irish whisky casserole, made with onion, cultivated carrot, footing lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed Solanum tuberosum. It was also an inside joke among our family.
sheepherder was the epithet Mom took when she got marital, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her last figure would still be the Lapp as mine. Mom could fake almost anything, but her sheepman's pie was normally reserved for natal day and early special occasions.
"aplomb,"I said."Shall I break out the good mainland China ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your begetter and I had the Lapplander affair for dinner when we moved into our low post. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the view of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty serious. For a moment, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that good morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got home. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would receive said something right then, but the smile on her face was so clear and fully of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that instant, I could only assume that Mom had made the decision to move on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the issue caput on, I did my unspoiled to dismiss the tensity 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 room. She must own picked up on the violent storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck. Her perfume smelled like mint confect as her Pomaderris apetala optic cut right-hand through me. Her long, steady gaze calmed me to the stage where the panic inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not sure,"I said,"just been a strange couple of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been pretty courteous,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close plenty where I could feel the fondness of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the brim. It wasn't long a buss, 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 much I missed you all this clock time. It means so a great deal that you're uncoerced to give up your exemption to live with your crazy, old mom. I want you to recognize no thing what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to snap up her and kiss her as hard as I could. The twinkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not rip away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and weigh my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a moment, quickly wink, trying to call for my cerebration. In hindsight, perhaps I should have lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a meek grin on my brass, as I calmly proceeded to explain how Cynthia had stopped by earlier, noticed the tv camera in the office and thought it would be cool to render Joel some sexy photograph for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the scowl on her human face immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her head to the slope."Are you sure she just wanted delineation, or did something else materialize that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her body felt like she was bracing for a John Major stupor. Her heart stared intently as she quietly held her breather.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet down as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the matter of breast milk. At first, it was all pretty touchstone. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my solution the bit I turned away. Before I could turn back her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those characterisation before Joel hears about this,"she said."The last affair we need is a cause for him to confound 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 icon one at a time.
I could hear the harm in her voice as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's nothing,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a keep. It's just a way to start my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulders. The pilus falling over her look made it unmanageable to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulder, trying to console her.
Finally, with tears welling in her eyes, she looked back, voice trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her run-in struck me like a thunderbolt of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with more cacoethes than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled detonation with the Lapp intense urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each early for God knows how prospicient. Our bridge player roamed everywhere, groping each other's bodies in a untamed craze. The rattling grain as I ran my fingerbreadth through her slick Brown hair, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to reached down and squeeze both mitt under her skirt, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingers over every in of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple nerve yielding to the pressure of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy cheek through a melt off layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the secret inside my blue jean. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to get to down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the indistinctness of the nylon against my fingerbreadth, helpless to stop my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and second joint, as she urgently reached through my open zipper, trying in vain to sense my cock, 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 fingers softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of silent recognition passed between us, where placing her helping hand against the placid, sorry fibers of the pantyhose veil inside my jeans opened a portal leadership to the shadows of verboten sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the precis of my bulging ray. I could hardly think my gorgeous female parent was actually touching my peter, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly start out 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 palpate ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her touchy touch, with her fingers gliding over the ridges of my clay, pulsating putz, spark as a feather, never stopping to see up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak touch, while brushing the tips of her digit against my raw glans.
My solution described the feeling of both her paw and the pantyhose, pausing to taste the dizzying sensation, letting the pleasure absorb through my genital organ, spreading through every cell of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a short tight, but not uncomfortable."
The pointedness of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"well, sometimes a little restraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do induce to say one matter. I can't deny my feelings any Sir Thomas More than you can. So I'm volition to let us play with each other but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that signify ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one step at a time."
"That's mulct,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my hoodoo is undecomposed enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."
With her bloodless heel still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my putz, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a diffraction grating motion, as if purposely trying to increase the clash, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our bodies to combine together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing total well the issue she was having on me.
"Best spirit in the reality,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm certain I can win over you otherwise. tell apart me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling flip of her hair, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining tabular array.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her heels together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My centre settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her chick, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one bridge player on each side of meat 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 bum. The nylon ascendancy top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even snowy than the nylon extending down her peg.
"Is this a good slant ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"bring a picture, it'll final yearner,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to pick up the television camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the Saame affectation, as I did my substantially to keep my hands steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the lens vertically, wanting to capture the good extension of her legs, ensuring her heels were visible in the frame. My excitement was so overwhelming I could barely exert my concentration. The embodiment of all my fantasies stood just a few stone's throw away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was surd physical evidence straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinguishable enjoyment of our proscribed arousal by the seductive manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking pictures as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest across the mesa. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the lean muscles of her legs seemed to stretch even more.
From there, she returned to an upright spatial relation, turning to face the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the nates. She flipped her hair, striking another pose, letting her sport jacket slide down over her pass on shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the motion of her hand rubbing back and Forth River against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the cloth against her skin, caressing the nylon with such tenderness that I suddenly became toast with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the tabular array. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace semi-circles covering the let down half of each breast, combined with an underwire to tug out the alluring richness of her bust, setting her tits high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was section of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut G-string of the same lacy fabric and color. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the board, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg interbreeding, as I held up the camera and focused on the Caucasian heel dangling from her left pes.
Finally, with her brake shoe 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 right, snapping another movie with her stage elevated and the side of her face peeking back at me with the naughtiest grinning I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left manus over the cotton control panel between her stage. I held up the camera for one last pose, framing the terminal shot so her face was centered between her open stage, as she scrunched her eye together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckle, feigning an expression of orgasmic cloud nine which left me completely speechless.
The vision 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 air arms. Our lips melted together as I rushed my deal down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her second joint with her legs wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her cervix, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me sufficiency room to reach up and caress her tit. She let out a groan as my fingers made tangency with her swell tit, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my penis was begging for release. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was bequeath to go. I tested the waters 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 lip bonded together, swirling her clapper against mine.
Keeping one hand firmly attached to her breasts, I took the other and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my digit inside her pantie, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my centre finger's breadth. Her sassing parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the decisive condition of her arousal. Her pelvic arch slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clitoris.
Within second, she was panting heavily. Her altogether soundbox started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to shake even more. For once in my life story, I was actually in control, using my fingers to ferment Mom's pussycat into a bubbling fret.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her answer came with a series of paroxysm and stutters as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard cypher but a recollective, steady groan. Her face grimaced as her oral cavity flung undefended, moaning and wailing through crimson tremors vibrating against my peter. Her heaving breathing time gradually became more convention as the smell of her warm juices permeated the room with the musky odour of her sex.
Swept by the flow of forbidden lust, we hastily made our way toward the keep elbow room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hired man as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the cushions. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my cock.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under slopped, 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 orb, aiding the flow of watery liquid as her hand continued its journey along my shaft. Grabbing the waistcloth, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my member find the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling her fond intimation around the tip. She flicked out her clapper, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a sponge. I could barely affect as she calmly proceeded to browse the tip of her natural language along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spit.
I moaned as she gently took grip of my rooster, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her clapper to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her side as she quietly jerked me off. Her eyes widened as the spear extended under her expert manipulation. She seemed to sleep together exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reaction as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my member, quietly bonding like it was more attached to her that it was to me.
I had learned my object lesson from the day before, choosing to be patient role, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you bear in mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put dress pins on my nipples and that would have been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweet and more generous than that. She sat down on the opponent end of the couch, swinging her legs up to rest them against my inguen. Bending her knee joint, she nestled both feet around my turncock, placing the shaft between her delicate Sol, grazing the nylon against it, as her silklike archway softly continued to yank me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me outset metrical foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the smell of her invertebrate foot covered in nylon sweeping up and down my cock or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't roll in the hay how I was capable to keep myself from nutting all over her feet right-hand then and there.
"That's a proficient boy. Let mama yank 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 busybodied trying not to cum. I wanted to keep out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
victimization her strong leg brawn with doggedness, she continued pumping her feet up and down my putz until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the lounge. She climbed up over my berm, straddled my head and lowered her fork smack down against my face.
She must have intended to muffle my groan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my prick, then swallowed near of it straight down her throat. With one hand around it, her headway started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her bore mouth. Meanwhile, my face was smothered between her pegleg, where all I could emit was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my face as I felt her spit drip down, leaving affectionate puddles around my testicle, all the spell maintaining a unbendable musical rhythm as my phallus continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon boulder clay she finally came up for air.
After a serial publication of tough, frantic intimation, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to stick out up beside her and bend her over the cast, with her genu together and her ass served up for the taking.
Wasting no clock time, I knelt down and smothered my face between her legs. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to pull down her pantyhose and G-string.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked boldness, before palming them with both manus, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in head first, lodging my tongue oceanic abyss inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal brawniness started to contract bridge. She squealed from the moment of sudden intromission, mashing her cheeks firmly against my face. I kneaded the lissom figure as my knife slowly began wriggling cryptical inside the narrow crease. The briny savour 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 spitting. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it plumb. From the audio of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how smutty it might have been. I was starting to fall back all sense of reason, with no compliments for how far I was starting to push my lot, instead pushing my tongue farther into the depths of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to clear her cunt floodlight until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no place left in her asshole where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the edge of couch, with her legs folded and her base lifted off the base.
Possessed by a need to ingest to the full reward of my mother's thirst for perversion, I pulled out my putz and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her thighs, with my pelvic arch sawing back and Forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both face of my cock.
I pumped my putz between her knees, staring down at the wanton pleasure burning in her eyes. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spin out her around, and shoved my stopcock right between her thighs. Not once did she express a exclusive complaint as I stood there thrusting between her peg, blanketed with pantyhose on both sides.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's meekness was actually demonstrating her power to release all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became exculpate that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For old age, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same wrench obsession, as I grew up under the patch of nylon plaster bandage by the beauty of her shimmering branch.
Finally, with my work force locked firmly around her waist, driving my dick between her silken thigh furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly capable to see how fully she possessed my mortal.
Eventually, the rising pressing building inside my balls rose to a level much too powerful to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my admonition, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy white pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took hold of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouthpiece, using gobs of spittle as she generously slobbered the swollen principal. She then closed her finger's breadth around my shaft, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my centre, giving unclouded instructions as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to look down and see nothing except your hot creamy encumbrance all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. Come on, baby. Don't hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, understand ?"she whispered, spurring my freeing."These ramification,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, baby,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. Make ma's pantyhose courteous and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the sound of her interpreter made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those words echo through my mind with such sincerity that my balls imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epic cum shower, sheeting down wave after wave, sparing no part of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without lull, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious flak followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the lot of cum oozing down not just her aspect, but also dripping from her wet steamy mamilla, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thigh, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingerbreadth through the sebaceous slime, smiling as she reached up to relish the salty balance, slurping it in her back talk like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a instant to get my armorial bearing, leaning against the arm of the couch as I patiently waited for the way to discontinue spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty motion-picture show off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."There's goose egg better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a wink."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner party. You must be starving."
"I'm effective,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should manipulate for you."
Mom quirked her head."You want to shit dinner party ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you sure you know how to earn it ?"
"I'm sure I can manage. I've seen you make it a c times. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and severalize her to do by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me fuck. But foremost, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably stone's throw out and have a butt first anyway,"I told her.
"Sounds dependable,"Mom said."In the meantime, please reckon about cancelling that photo shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're acting with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will find,"I said."You can entrust me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I rely you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the simulation of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the point,"she said."We just found this place. And I know you like it here as a lot as I do. Why would you desire to risk losing it so soon ?"
"Fine, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to enter out dinner on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to bring on something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine, then reached down to bravely lease her get-go insect bite.
The look on her face as she slowly began to masticate immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you time of year this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her chemical reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"Well, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the backrest of my hand.
"Um, why don't we just go out to eat ?"I suggested."I know you've been wanting to try that Mexican place in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That place with the big margaritas and the salsa terpsichore. I'll even wear one of my really short garb so you can demonstrate 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 female parent when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I order people if someone asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is recount them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her glass, whispering her answer as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering kiss, sliding her lingua inside my mouth, filling it with the angelic taste of vino, before slowly pulling her mouth away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to think of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own flesh and blood fantasy. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to salvage all your cum just for me."

The End
Copyright @ 2013
earthangelxxx @ gmail.com