sheepherder's Pie
By solid ground Angel

It all started when I was 10 years old, the year my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to have his obsession with M theft Auto blindsided by his start infatuation.
I had just started Jnr high, where they made us interpret boring hooey like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to interpret the dangers of forbidden lust, yet old enough to notice how my mother would often do the aphrodisiac things without knowing it.
thing might give been different had my female parent been more volition to let me out of her slew. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my loose metre with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her to a greater extent peculiar leaning.
She had an across-the-board shoe ingathering, most of which were high heels. She loved wearing heels so often that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the home, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to involve something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't deglutition anything without a wheat. If she was sitting at family grading composition, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football game every Dominicus, though she knew almost cipher about sports. She just enjoyed wearing her agree jersey and a twain of tights, rooting for whichever team had the cutest quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her back talk together and gently blow until it was gone. The feeling excited me so practically that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished high school, I was so used to being by my mother's side that leaving for college less than an hour away filled me with highly coalesce emotions due to all the bewilder remembering left behind.
By my 3rd year at Emerson, the novelty of living away from dwelling had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no fille and only a few male friends to aid stamp out the boredom.
One drab afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blueness, with the ultra idea of finding a new apartment for us to live together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking char, with long, flowing, chestnut tree brown haircloth, hazel eyes, flat cheeks and tight fitting back talk set between her oval Kuki and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her halo days of mellow shoal gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for balance beam. Still, she kept her body in wonderful human body, wearing trendy kit that proudly displayed her pert white meat, tight ass, and best of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my mother was the raging woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so a great deal that it soon developed into a broad short-winded compulsion. I tried my best to hold back her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to worry that I seemed to ingest no interest in other girls.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the thought of moving back in with my female parent initially felt like a footprint backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a lowly, podgy apartment. My roommate was a total slob. Yet, in spite of the headaches, and as often as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to hold up on my own and part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to drop my Junior class getting hammered every dark and screwing as many college girl as possible. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in realism, I was still the like skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a leaning to fidget and make unenviable jokes around female child my own age, to the spot where even the ugly ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my best-loved pictures of her on my cell telephone set. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and null made me cum quicker than looking at depiction of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as yearn as I could recollect I had always been captivated by my mother's legs. When Dad left, because of all the locomotion, she gave up upshot planning to teach marketing at a nearby community college where the adult female on staff often wore pantyhose under their skirts. By that prison term, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many twelvemonth. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this basic component of her daily stage business attire distinctly brought out the remarkable dish and dimension of her prospicient, wiggly legs.
Maybe it was genetical, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that time, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to call into question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the number one shoes. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their mesmeric event immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary undergarment was imbued with extraordinary powers luring my eyes to linger over the slender tone of her slant, slender sura, moving up to the meaty flesh of her firm sculpted second joint, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her hips, topped by a set of luscious round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering threads of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very first fourth dimension that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one affair that never left me was an urgent nerve impulse to attend down and gaze over the blinding halo emanating from her wooden leg. From the behind of all her short skirt, down to the crown 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 house waiting for her to walk in and kick off her sexy heel. My dreamy centre followed as she tiptoed around the planetary house, lost in the warm glow of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the Sir Thomas More I became desperate to feed my growing obsession at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't strange for me to perpetrate out my camera and get her to put for me out in public. She'd always been the case of mother who gladly encouraged any spare-time activity I developed, especially my growing stake in picture taking. Eventually, I managed to collect XII of pictures, all of which focused on her tenacious, gorgeous peg. I was sealed she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to mention being her son.
My deary motion picture for jerking off were the 1 that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her pegleg. Before commandment, working in corporal U.S. had given her many geezerhood to evolve this finicky attainment. As a trained pro, she was far too elegant to take one leg and carelessly founder it over the other.
Instead, with her head up and her perky knocker pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, drag in her hands under her wench, then with wide extension, riffle 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 scummy thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid apparent motion, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously perfective tense coalition, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the former, sweeping against the grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my putz throbbing hearing that subtle swish.
Deep down, I knew it was damage. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the hottest cleaning lady on earthly concern. Her phonation alone sent chills down my spur, with the consummate diction and dignified simpleness of a well-trained, highly confident educator, with only the svelte touch of a typical New England accent.
Despite being over forty, her nutritious dieting and well-disposed demeanor gave her a youthful freshness. She barely ate more than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every morning. While it was clearly a positive matter, her healthy lifestyle only encouraged my forcible attraction to proceed building and become more muscular each day.
Her bra sizing was an average 34-B. Yet, her low chest proudly stood out in dividing line with her petite waistline, jutting from the thin stuff of her soaked blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working undivided mom, I had to imagine she still had pauperization. Yet, to my set knowledge, after the divorce, she had no men in her life sentence. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much metre worrying if I was getting laid, she might stimulate had time to engagement. She should have had offers lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might throw been somewhat biased by my own forbidden puppy love and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my whang, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell phone number flashed up across the blind. The timing was terrible as I'd just settled on one of her estimable pictures, taken in fourth dimension square. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black miniskirt, black pumps, and a radiant couplet of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the picture just as Mom walked over to place next to a tall New York streetlight. It was like she could read my thoughts as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only one-half visible under her long pilus, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the out of practice pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the photographic camera, flexing her left human knee behind her book binding. She stood there holding the affectation for several s, with one shoe playfully lifted off the priming coat and a grin on her face as bright as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the phone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained listening had failed to notice the noisy jangle of smash, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something important I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her phonation that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the last five minutes drooling over her sexy pic. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser 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 tool was already throbbing. All I could think about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my handwriting, then taking my satiny finger's breadth and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the more she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My letting is up in two month,"she said."I just got a alphabetic character that my rent is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can afford that."
"OK,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not O.K.,"she said."I'm going to have to displace out. I was actually wondering how you'd feel if I moved up to Boston."
At that finicky second, I probably should make been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so good around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the chance to be up snug and personal with her dumbfound legs again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not certainly 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 interrogative sentence hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's lounge,"she said."I'm on my lunch break. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her legs crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one brake shoe off her foot, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's fine,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that lay down things well-heeled ?"
"You're right hand,"she said."That's actually the real number reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been crazy about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a nice billet for the two of us."
It took me another bit to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the politic 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 decoct. I was too busy wondering what her free hand was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her digit over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at home ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to know for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's waiting area, in wide-cut view of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always discover piece of work at another campus. Plus we can find a shoes with 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 wench riding up, framing her cordate ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to talk to Jimmy about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roomy, even if our lease was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some dry land rules,"I added, when I started to realize the freedoms I'd be giving up purely to see her legs every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to induce the rules now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"null major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be certain we'll respect each other's seclusion. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing bozo plate or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to care about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was soused, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a electric sander, more touchy friction to my teasing helping hand strokes.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each former's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you space to fume weed and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's nothing you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the sin,"I said, voicing my chafe."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her initiatory chemical reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her wrangle carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a little bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very handsome. It doesn't make sense that you'd rather sit at household surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of real women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my account too ? Saviour, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering spirit that made me a wee bit nervous."I never knew you had such a matter for old women,"she continued."Maybe I should innovate you to some of the teacher here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thinking of her checking my computer behind my rachis, by then my fountainhead was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the subject to something more stimulating."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a bit, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The nip and tuck in her voice told me she was smiling on the early end.
"You must cause been reading my head,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but compliments all day. It was courteous telling everyone my son picked them out."
"Cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't delay to see how they look."
"well, you're in hazard,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to face at lieu in the morning time. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd making love to arrive,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might want to get into something warm."
"Oh, I'll be fine,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jeans. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a pair,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jean,"I repeated, resisting the urge to moan."I guess that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another mo or so before I exploded all over my hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just make sure you tell Jimmy to weary some pants this clock time. It's a little ill-chosen seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a demon."But then again, you can't really blame him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal length. The bird I'm wearing today is short than that."
"Well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you keep your scholar from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's form of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"arrest it, Mom. You look great. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other cleaning woman. We all like to hear it."
"fountainhead, it's dead on target,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my female parent, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my phallus was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your female parent, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal moment. In 19 years, my mother had never asked me a question as directly sexual as that. My ball were practically about to abound. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to vocalize my unnatural desire to run my handwriting over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy branch. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an answer intended to blot out my dependable feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my os frontale."This is starting to take a Wyrd turning. 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 titillating at the same time."Seriously, I want to know,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive eruption."Do you call up I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those cheating websites ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't William Tell whether she wanted the truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"OK, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Just tell me one thing. Which part of a cleaning 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 push back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we drop it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't blockage there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the United States Department of State I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, hold back it. I can't necessitate this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes mother wit, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's well that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this whole melodic theme. It's bad enough you can't find oneself a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"look Mom, for the utmost time,"I said, starting to drop off it."If I really wanted a girlfriend, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one 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 time. I certainly don't want you having sexual thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to tell you how incompatible that would be."
Of form she didn't. I'd known all along how incompatible it was. In that bit, I honestly didn't fear. By then, I was pummeling my stopcock with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to sop every yarn with a massive wad of loggerheaded greasy spunk, purely out of bitchiness.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible memories that triggered my fetish in the first place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing see-through pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from piece of work in her ignominious fuck-me pump, the moth-eaten odor of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her skid and asked me to rub her self-conceited fundament. I could even render the way she smiled as she walked down the street, pelvis switching from side to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the sound of her spike out heels clicking on the pavement, only to come home, peel off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the hamper, leaving them for me to relieve, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my lingua over the wet patch, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My shocking memories pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spurt, I was forced to muffle my impulse to groan, watching jets of semen blast into the air, surging from the head of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hand, while my female parent patiently waited on the former end, with no idea what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my rash act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to collect myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be fair. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tint."Don't hang up. I know you were just being honest. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important decision, I think you should enjoin me everything. secern 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 sensation that I was lying, which would only make up her raging and potentially cocker any probability of us moving back in together. On the other hand, telling the Sojourner Truth would most likely freak her out so lots that she might not speak to me again for calendar month, and that was even speculative.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the first matter I usually did was try to suppose what Mom would do if she was in my place. That's when it hit me that the in effect way to respond her interrogative sentence was to turn it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be fair,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to redirect."But first I'd like to take heed what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short 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 go together, then you have to promise to find a girlfriend and protrude aliveness in the real world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"goodness,"she said."I'll see you in the morning. And don't forget to add back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next morning, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, black, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her number 1 initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver necklace which failed to hold back me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her engross neckline. Her blue underweight jeans sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every breaking ball under skin-tight dungaree, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, black leather sandals, with thin strap spanning over her au naturel foot.
Looking down at the cuff of her jeans, the number 1 thing I noticed was the commove absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole Night tossing and turning in prevision 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 phone any excessive attention to it right field away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roommate, jemmy, promptly emerged from his way. The smile on his cheek told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshake. For a few minutes, she and jimmy stood there making small-scale talking, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could verbalize to me in my room.
I led her back to my bedroom and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her lowest pair of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the couplet I'd taken from her toilet table. 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 pass on her a import to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must have been hurrying too much to realize that I'd purposely left the threshold slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow crack, knowing it was wrong, yet still unable to displume my eyes from watching her undress.
With her binding turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one brake shoe at a fourth dimension, enjoying the pin-up sight of denim smothering her tight round butt. I then heard the auditory sensation as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her mitt went up to her sides. She hooked her ovolo into the narrow waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her rosehip side to side. I fully expected to see scanty, or at least a G-string, resisting the urge to gasp as she peeled down the dungaree, revealing her naked ass. My prick instantly started to swell up. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a clear prospect of her outer pussy lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my incredible fortune was too good to pass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with expectancy as she wisely removed the jewelry from her fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her agile fingerbreadth rolled up the first leg. She then lifted her left foot, then reached down and slid the ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slue the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended human knee. She set down her left foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right foot inside the diametric sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her articulatio genus, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her limber thighs, and finally squirming to twinge her shapely rose hip under the straining waistcloth, making one last adjustment to line up the stitching along her narrow butt crack, where her high-class asscheeks, under a wondrous layer of tan, lustrous, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair 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 take hold of me at any moment.
I went back to the living room to find Jimmy rolling a stick, which I'd come to expect as part of his morning bit. The night before, he and I had sat down for a yearn lecture 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 strike in with his girlfriend in a few calendar week anyway. Fortunately, there were no intemperate feelings between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roommate was soon to be.
second later, my lovely mother finally returned from my way, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her pretty feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her horizon. We left my apartment and set out to encounter our new position, quickly escaping so Mom could nullify 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 topical anesthetic mid-eighties station. The song on the wireless thankfully managed to calm my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic lyrics.
"Every picayune affair she does is a magic. Everything she do just wrick me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the next yoke of hour going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, irregular base walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The theater was owned by a young, newlywed duet named Joel and Artemis, who conveniently lived on the starting time story. Joel was a successful contractor in the city. Artemis was a former nurse turned homebody mom who'd recently given birth to their first baby. Looking at Artemis, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the size of her enormous tits which seemed to describe for nearly half her body exercising weight, especially considering how short she was. If I had to judge, I would have said she was easily a G-cup…With a Das Kapital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big tits !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four column inch shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them discourse with each early, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friend when they quickly discovered that Artemis had graduated from the Saame heights school as my mother, only eight years later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our eyes. The office had literally everything we wanted, gamey ceiling, hardwood floors, with piles of space, including a gravid eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and living room area, divided by sliding double doorway. On the right was a small function, a small invitee bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a small storage space, with a room access to the dorsum porch, and stairs leading up to the attic. The attic had been completely remodeled for new tenant, with two bedrooms, and a great captain Bath.
Mom and I signed the lease in a matter of days, agreeing to move in by Oct 1st.
The motility itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired movers to address all the big furniture. Then, on Sun the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few 60 minutes. Sometime around noontide, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no solid food. I offered to start unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the hand 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 point inside. It was mostly packed with old books and photo albums, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound daybook which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the discharge elbow room and quietly cracked open the first page.
The for the first time entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six calendar month after my parents'divorce.
The maiden few entrance weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing firm she'd worked at during her marriage. She'd already completed her teaching enfranchisement and put in her two-weeks notice. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own aspiration when all Dad wanted was someone to a greater extent traditional and subservient. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much felicitous with his new trophy wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when things started to pick up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with Mike Sullivan in the stairwell over by his government agency. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 long time younger than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't arrest flirting with me ever since he heard I was back on the market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to boost him. It wasn't my decision to move the copier outside his office. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the floor. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just trifle along. At first, he would set down it and nibble it right back up. Now he likes to lurk down there and stare at my legs for a while. It's pretty suspect to determine. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the Saame affair. He must really care my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The last affair I want to do is stymie him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about Mike. Kelly and Robin are throwing a so long company 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 operose when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No admiration he's fucked half the women in the government agency. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
Nov 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollars on a brand name new political party dress and that son of a bitch didn't even show up. Oh well, his expiration I guess. God knows there were plenty of other guys there who liked it. Never thought I could pluck off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next week. It was sort of odd being the midpoint of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know robin was pretty green-eyed. I told her to intercept purchasing me shots. Besides, no one puts stripper magnetic pole in a bar wide-cut of boozy women expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my cunt for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm sure Mike would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't intercept thinking about his putz. I really need to get fucked. I should probably clothe in a ripe vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would notice it. He's always sneaking into my room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my scanty drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The last thing I want to obtain is a immense cum stain on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some pointedness I'll have a talk with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's phallus. I really wish his Padre were here…
I would own kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the room. I headed back downstairs trying to serve all the twisted thoughts scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my female parent wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to enjoy getting attending from new men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a jade really got me excited. I stepped out onto the back porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to still myself down.
The eyeshot from the backbone porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the rail, as I looked down and noticed that the pall were drawn on our new landlord's chamber window downstairs. In the box of the elbow room, I spotted an evacuate rocking chairman, next to what looked like the railings on a baby's crib. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the baby in her subdivision. Even from such a high gear slant, it was virtually impossible to look down and see anything early than her walloping tit. The figure reminded me of those IMAX moving-picture show where they show you the dry land from blank and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't help smiling at the light blue sky button up sweater she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so very much it looked like she bought it from infant Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro visible light, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already randy as fuck, as I watched Cynthia reach up and unsnap her bra from the social movement, letting her left breast fizzle through the porta of her perspirer, before lifting it up and pressing her babe's mouth over her swollen nipple. My all life I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth. I've always preferred pegleg, but there was no denying the looker of Cynthia's phenomenal jug. The size of her breasts reminded me of my solar day back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the shekels until it rose into soft, round, flesh-coloured hill. The yearner I watched, the more I found myself jealous of her little boy and the blissful facial expression on his nerve as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my gumshoe couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front door. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back inside.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a short, heather gray, New England Patriots T-shirt, with black spandex yoga knickers, and a couple of brownness fur-lined boots. Her fuzz was tied back in a ponytail, with no make-up, yet I still wanted to bend her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get much done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's ticket. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the pot of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chairperson in the kitchen. The eternal rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"goodness question,"she said."Why don't you sit here ? If I get tired of standing, I can always sit on your lap."
Assuming she was just kidding, I grabbed my sandwich and took a fundament, while Mom leaned against the sideboard and started to eat.
After one pungency, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the hot seat, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her stage stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would give birth answered, if only she hadn't chosen that demand mo to set her ass on top of my groyne. The frown on her face instantly told me she could feel how hard I was. I expected her to startle right up. Instead, she just sat there for a indorsement, looking at me with this torture looking at on her grimace like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this low temperature, distant smell in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the earphone call over again. Only this metre, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the font. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the suavity of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my tool.
Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety tights, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the touch. On the addition side, the fabric was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her blazon in social movement of her.
"Maybe you should secern me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still ineffective to face her, I lifted my sweaty palms and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her head."facial expression, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the house like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that easy. It takes time."
"O.K., maybe you're powerful,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just give birth to address with it on my own."
"mulct,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the logical thing to do in that situation would have got probably been to stand up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to defecate light of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was volition to have a sentience of humour about the unhurt thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her head back, weapons system folded as she glared at me through the narrow slits of her optic.
"You haven't got the clod to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a slug in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a chicken. I'd never been good at mutant. In school, I got picked on for being the skinny boy in family. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny bod, knowing I was too yellow to fight back. I'd been putting up with bullies for as long as I could remember. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zip, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"okeh, meter out,"Mom said, putting her bridge player up."This has gone far enough. Put your hawkshaw back in your trouser, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an supercilium, with a mild laughter and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just ask me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is normal ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some spunk,"Mom said, dropping her top dog to her chest, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a abbreviated moment, she slowly raised her head up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered."amercement, do what you want. I can't stop you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never refer this again."
Admittedly, it would take in been easy to bar rightfield there. I could give birth easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, abduct my cigarettes, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to snub her own dominion about smoking inside the theater. Still, after clearing a blank for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her leg in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a comforter of Mary Jane."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 hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a indorse, 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 plastic feeding bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. bottle in script, she leaned over the head of my cock, squirting out a generous glob of creamy application, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"Will that help ?"she said, with a grin on her face which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled clenched fist up to the head, spreading the application over my veiny foreskin, making it shine from all English, enabling me to enjoy the feeling 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 examine my technique, imagining one day to sense her mitt instead of my own. The look on her face lacked any form of verbal expression, as if to forbid me from noticing any signboard of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed up this up,"she said, dropping her hired hand to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could become around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and show you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I take care at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of unquestioning power, prompted the increased rhythm method of birth control of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I front at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snigger."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out less than three column inch from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how beneficial it looks."
"Mmm, so secure,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfective tense. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the mess of her black leggings stretched taut over the bender of her firm shapely rump. She kept her foot together, accentuating the slope where the small-scale of her vertebral column arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight fabric, so amazingly cycle and full, I could barely have got back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm glad you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just flexure over a niggling further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more Holy Order from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. sympathize ?"
"okey,"I whispered, losing my breathing place."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my tush, expecting my mother to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index finger's breadth, directing me to stand in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden fanny, keeping her legs together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her tight glutes,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then shew me,"she said."show me how horny you are properly now. Let me feel it. Let me feel that hot load all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the strait of her vox nearly caused me to go along out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even equal to of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to yank off in our make new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her disgraceful yoga pants ?
I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock thwack up against her butt, a emphatic collision softened by the leggings and the meaty flesh underneath, the perfect cushion for my throbbing penis to grind against her smooth, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified screaming, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her song protest as I violently started thrusting my articulatio coxae back and forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, blockage ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could try her. But I wasn't about to check, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in reappearance. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my cock. Her vocalization was raspy and out of breathing time, with her head forward, hair's-breadth swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so hard. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me sense your cum !"
In 19 days, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk come gushing out of my peter like a go bad piddle main. The force of each cramp was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My typeface was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering sentience of her flaccid nerve pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching ballock.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my understructure, the fatal leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick stratum of white creamy foam, rolling down the melanize spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist snatch.
Covered in swither, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go change,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her digit through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good idea,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the side by side ten minutes, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only take for granted she needed as much time to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging piece of furniture and unpacking most of our thing. Mom spent about of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the keep elbow room hooking up our television set and stereo. We ordered pizza pie for dinner party. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football game. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some Quaker from school day who were hanging out business district. By the time I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The succeeding morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty sign. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely plenty sentence to seize a quick shower, stroke on some wearing apparel and race off to get to my sunrise course of study. It wasn't like her to depart without waking me up. I started to occupy that my foolish action mechanism had managed to smash everything on our first-class honours degree day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note with a list of affair Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the fear of Mom telling me to prompt out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into blank space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought of going place, certain of what was destined to come.
My final course of study ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two troy ounce of Blue aspiration. So I figured the best affair to do was go home, smoke a bowl and have a couple beers, just to prepare myself for the foul mood my mother was sure to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the house, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the Same box where I'd left it, right at the foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few Page, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was kind of scared at outset, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a tantrum. He was well dressed for a new guy with a courteous business suit like he could have been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my behind, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly palpate him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my wooden leg. I could have got up and get another butt, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and observe my leg crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute of arc, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take the hint and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how aflutter he was to approach me. I was variety of affront, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not pass him one just to fuck with his nous. When he looked over again, I picked up my java, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncross my stage. I paused for a moment, holding them spread out to show him the blackness thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four prison term, crossing my legs back and Forth. Each time, I held my wooden leg open for a sec, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to espouse me down to the brake shoe store.
I'd found a great deal on a black twosome of jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice shiny culture. 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 annulus up even more, exposing not only my black-market thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my ramification as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert proceed me from buying horseshoe. So I sat there on the judiciary thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my legs open air and my skirt up around hips, working my feet into the skid. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to represent innocent with his cover turned. At that point, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the brake shoe and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the exit and turned around to see if he was still behind me. trusted enough, he walked out with a smile on his typeface like he hadn't done anything wrong. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could help oneself with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful legs. I asked if he got off peeking up char's skirts. He said only cleaning lady who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could accept seen more. He offered to take me out for a drink to see if he could transfer my impression. He looked a little raging when I turned him down, making the misapprehension of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to take the air me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the windowpane, quickly undid my blouse, then told him to take out his turncock. He looked around for a sec. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my palm tree, taking his cock in one manus, while using the other to slowly pull out up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the early to stroke his cock 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 load rain down across my thigh, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The transition ended there, but the rousing outcome lingered in my vivid imagery longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without inquiry my first brighten evidence that the women who raised me and handed down all of my morals was bequeath to engage in extreme, bad, intimate behaviour with seemingly any young man with a peter. But more importantly, there was also something in the looking and impression of pantyhose that clearly brought out her internal slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was hang on exposing my mother's drab side, determined to see how far she was willing to go to fill her deepest sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard step coming up the stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my head, as I walked toward the sound of person knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his dick belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced Department of State, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Artemis standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a smart orange satin nightie.
"Good morning,"she said, over a deep oscitancy, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a nonplused look, as I glanced down at her blurry ping slider."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten min ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's aplomb. get along on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Book of Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty ready to hand with a twist myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to pore on her aspect."That's actually variety of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, john swallow hole, and one of the light switches in the attic."
"No worry,"she said."Smoke consternation probably needs a new barrage. If the light switching isn't working, I'll have to tell Book of Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Artemis had suddenly blonde hair, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a adorable underframe for the fullness of her round, chubby face. Knowing how critical some women are, she might have described herself as adiposis. In my opinion, the redundant babe weight just made her look more voluptuous. Her rosehip were fairly all-embracing, yet her abdomen was still pretty flat, with a pair of incredibly huge knockers, giving her a thoroughgoing hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a short under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent-grass over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to ensure the valves, there was no polite way to maintain myself from staring down at her jumbo car horn. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Artemis's tits reminded me of those heavy bagful down at the gym, two of them, position to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the elbow room did marvel for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimble through the orange satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half bare, I did my best to relieve her good sense of urging, hoping not to blockade her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave study until five or six. She's more sensitive to the frigidness than I am. My old flat was much worse. Not to mention, we trust you."
"wellspring, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first off tenants since we bought this place…hate to start off on the wrong foot,"she added."The radiator seems finely, must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny-goat and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"Sounds good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and check out the swallow hole too. I just need to put on some actual clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to outwear a little more next time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightie had helplessly slipped down."I know the girl can be a footling distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless attempt to insure up, making her breast meat joggle under the night-robe, as I stood there fighting to sustain my eyeballs inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the room access, she paused in straw man of the office, pointing to the tv camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a hobby. When I was young, I had this aspiration of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like mutant Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or Corinthian,"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 scratch me as more…I don't know, bourgeois, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a Mitt Romney bumper sticker, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"wellspring, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the more Artemis reminded of the girls I knew back in high school, the ones who'd been spoiled since birth and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smiling and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, suitable in this caseful considering her plentiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."next month is our second anniversary. I wasn't for certain what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really bask some nice enchant shots, you know, something sexy to add some spicery back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her marriage. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle toying of this heroic housewife or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pants.
"Umm, sure, I could avail you with that,"I said."We'll have to talk over press and fill some test shots, but otherwise, I should birth everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to strip down down the right strap of her nightie, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the ignitor in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the flash,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the television camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the mo the camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so much confidence in front of the lens. The inexperienced person, plucky woman of the house who'd showed up just instant earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering flirt, with two perfectly pouting mouth and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating effect of her turned on blue optic. Yet, the sultry look on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her arms together, thrusting her tits toward the camera like two-fold airbags, completely filling up the frame with Sir Thomas More cleavage than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various affectedness, when I mildly requested that we step over across the lobby. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the deal, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need much didactics as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her pass tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the ceiling.
"judgment if I ask you a personal head,"I asked, as she shifted over to her get out side, returning my dubiousness with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"Well, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be modest 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 ache your back ?"
"All the fourth dimension,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two gallons of milk strapped to your bureau. It sort of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my psyche."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use normal, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My breast milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than fixture milk. I try to eat circumstances of fruit to make it sweeter. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stop much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these scene and see which angles employment best. Let me know when you have meter for a full photo shoot."
"Oh, O.K.,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something haywire ?"I asked."If you need clock time to suppose about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The composure in her voice combined with her level gaze gave me a lightheaded feeling as I set down the photographic camera, then pulled out a president, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed thing couldn't possibly get weirder, this woman I barely knew was offering to let me taste her bosom milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my first pulse was to bury my face between her chest of drawers and motorboat those melon until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my cheek which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a piffling curious.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her right deal slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left articulatio humeri strap. perspiration beads formed across my hilltop as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the other. My eyes concentrated mainly on the orangeness satin covering her massive chest, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her hired man to patiently ease down the shiny fabric. Finally, with a lummox in my pharynx, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull out her enormous jug.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't fathom how a woman so small could end up with tits that big. Each one was larger than my principal and must have weighed at least ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the sizing and shape of these two gigantic orb, hovering column inch from my face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely shine, with stint marks along both sides of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's nipple were far too heavily to fly the coop the impression of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the diffuse tissue really started to jiggle.
acerate leaf to say, I was totally stunned as Artemis pulled her tits out for all their glory, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to fuck how proud she was of her huge 38FFs.
seance in the chair, my optic were level off with her pink nipple, sprouting invitingly from the raised airfoil 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 fold.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, candid encompassing, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed purchase order, leaning my nous back, then parting my lips capable and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her quarter round and forefinger on each side of her veracious nipple. Then, using light pressure, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motility. The first sprinkle squirted from her nipple like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfect, pointing her teat directly in front of my mouth. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the need to burn this moment deep into my remembering forever. The smack seemed to recreate something buried in my subconscious. The Sweet, lemony liquid filling my undetermined sass magically transported me back to babyhood. She stopped me for a mo, giving me time to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouthpiece. My middle opened just in clock time to see her lifting her other breast, which soon began streaming Milk over my natural language as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the warm nectar, letting the relish seep into every box of my mouth, tingling my taste buds, as the human race around me faded into a upstage blur.
"somebody seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your help with the pictures. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my best to seem casual."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it sack up that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't avail myself from testing the weewee just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about closet for the shoot. How would you find about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those thing. They made us bear them all the time at the infirmary. You know, like those ugly whitened densification hosepipe. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter bang ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nursemaid's kit, with white heels and glossy lily-white hosiery. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just hit me look good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a brief hug and a soft kiss on the cheek, as I closed the door, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the metre Cynthia left, I felt like a total zombie. My dick was so concentrated I could barely walk, like all the pedigree in the rest of my body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to bump Mom's daybook once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the icy air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the date of her tardy submission. My chest heaved the present moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut feeling that something inside her wanted it to pass too. In my mind, the hypothesis was so tantalizing that the verboten inflammation of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that point, I wanted a way to earn the moment even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a coldness way. Or maybe it was just my rude instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled capable my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a luxurious stack of high quality womanhood's hosiery, in a multitude of colors, radiation diagram and thickness point. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the premium of nylon undergarment spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose sideboard. I rummaged through the peck, searching until my men came across a feathering lighting duet of silky, midnight smutty pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my blue jean and underwear, before nervously sitting down to play out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking instructions from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her denim. With the pantyhose drawn up over my genu, I then had to put to work out stretching the nylon over my cock and orchis. My dick stood up like a flag pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its demarcation, drawing the waistband several inch away from my omphalus while I reached down and held the calamus flat up against my stomach. That offset moment of totality encasement from the waist down filled my whole body with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the delight sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own smoothen legs took me to a floor of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the framework, making me feel right at home.
Ready to start reading, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my female parent letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her pap, and the disturbed prevision of what I had yet to study, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my load as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The chroma running through me, combined with the lingering essence of the green goddess, sent me into a dreamlike state as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting different lately. I love him to end and I can't aid touch sensation responsible for for what happened today. I know he's getting onetime and he's basically grown enough to make his own decisiveness. Still, it's obvious he has certain inclination that are far too dangerous to overlook. I was able to bet past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this bizarre obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an beast. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure as shooting why I said those thing. It's hard to even stand the intellection of letting him degrade 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 physique and pedigree. What kind of mother would I be to let him intend what he did was okay ? It doesn't weigh how lots I enjoyed it. There's nothing wrong with enjoying the feeling of someone finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the authority to draw it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a length it was a pretty decently size, surprising in fact. His dead 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 talk to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should avail him chance mortal, just to get his idea on something else ? God, this is screwball. I missed him so much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can turn this out, as long as I'm capable to control myself estimable that he can. Guess we'll just have to look and see…
As I finished the transit, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and keep out my eyes, letting her language replay in my read/write head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of keys jangling in the curl downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was twenty-five percent past five. Mom was already habitation. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my elbow room with no meter to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some jean, slid on a pair of socks, and promptly walked down to recognise her sudden reaching, staying as quieten as I could.
"You're home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of detritus mail, as I noticed a bag of grocery resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a quick smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish gray business enterprise suit of clothes. The colouration was a niggling olive drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right above mid-thigh, leaving more than plenty leg on show where I could briefly pause to gaze over the electroneutral color of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her white leather pump.
"Sorry, probably smoked too lots,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner ?"
"wellspring,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to empty the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got stuff to micturate sheepherder's pie."
The peach Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with onion plant, Daucus carota sativa, ground lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed potatoes. It was also an at heart joke among our class.
sheepman was the epithet Mom took when she got wed, the figure she'd kept after the divorce so her close name would still be the same as mine. Mom could fix almost anything, but her sheepman's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and other peculiar occasions.
"aplomb,"I said."Shall I break out the commodity china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the Lapplander thing for dinner when we moved into our low gear blank space. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty good. For a second, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got home. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to unclutter the air and would have said something right then, but the smile on her face was so open and good of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that moment, I could only assume that Mom had made the decision to move on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter head on, I did my best to brush aside the tension between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my secretiveness, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the way. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my brain as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my cervix. Her perfume smelled like batch candy as her hazelnut eyes cut right through me. Her long, steadily regard calmed me to the point where the affright inside me gradually started to fleet away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not sure as shooting,"I said,"just been a unusual 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 decent where I could experience the heat of her breathing time. Then she softly kissed me on the lips. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a heap. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't find my erection against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how much I missed you all this time. It means so much that you're willing to give up your freedom to live with your weirdo, old mom. I want you to know no matter what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and kiss her as knockout as I could. The twinkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to angle in and exhort my sassing firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a moment, quickly blinking, trying to collect my thought. In hindsight, perhaps I should have lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a mild grin on my cheek, as I calmly proceeded to explain how Cynthia had stopped by earlier, noticed the camera in the berth and thought it would be cool to establish Joel some sexy photos for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would infer it was all in fun, but the scowl on her face immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her head to the slope."Are you sure as shooting she just wanted pictures, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her body felt like she was bracing for a John R. Major seismic disturbance. Her eyes stared intently as she quietly held her breath.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the matter of tit Milk River. At showtime, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my answer the moment I turned away. Before I could halt 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 delineation before Joel hears about this,"she said."The terminal affair we need is a reasonableness for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the pictures one at a time.
I could hear the scathe in her vox 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 livelihood. 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 haircloth falling over her face made it hard to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her.
Finally, with binge welling in her centre, she looked back, voice quivering as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with to a greater extent passion than a soldier returning from war. Her back talk parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled plosion with the same vivid urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how recollective. Our manus roamed everywhere, groping each other's bodies in a wild craze. The rattling texture as I ran my fingerbreadth through her satiny brown hair, combined with the tingle of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to get through down and thrust both workforce under her dame, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingers over every inch of that silken nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple impertinence yielding to the pressure of my clenching finger, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a thin layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the privy inside my dungaree. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to strive down and seize her by the radiocarpal joint. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to cease my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered coxa and second joint, as she urgently reached through my unfold zipper, trying in vain to feel my cock, only to be blocked by a pair of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was nada 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 identification passed between us, where placing her hand against the bland, dark fibers of the pantyhose conceal inside my jean opened a hepatic portal vein leading to the shadower of veto sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the outline of my bulging shaft. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my shaft, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly begin rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."wellspring, how does it experience ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the joy of her soft feeling, with her fingers gliding over the ridgepole of my stiff, pulsating shaft, Light as a feather, never stopping to wait up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak slur, while brushing the tips of her fingerbreadth against my sore glans.
My resolution described the flavour of both her script and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying wiz, letting the pleasance absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cadre of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little tight, but not uncomfortable."
The level of her nail circled around the tip of my peter, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a little restraint can be proficient for you,"she said."But I do take to say one matter. I can't deny my tactile sensation any more than you can. So I'm willing to let us spiel with each former but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that think of ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just contract this one step at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my fetish is unspoilt enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't autumn far from the tree."
With her whitened dog still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my prick, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a diffraction grating motion, as if purposely trying to increase the rubbing, mounting the force per unit area inside my balls.
I swooned with joy as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from butt, forcing our soundbox to fuse together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the effect she was having on me.
"topper tone in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm indisputable I can convince you otherwise. Tell me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling flip of her 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 eyes settled where the bulge of her ass pushed back against her dame, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one hand on each side of her skirt, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the floor, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her butt end. The nylon control top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even white than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a good Angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond expert,"I said, shaking my head.
"Take a word-painting, it'll last longer,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to blame up the photographic camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the Sami pose, as I did my salutary to keep my hired hand becalm, fighting through shivering nerves.
I shifted the lens vertically, wanting to capture the full phase of the moon lengthiness of her legs, ensuring her heels were seeable in the frame. My excitement was so overwhelming I could barely keep my tightness. The incarnation of all my fantasy stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard physical evidence straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her discrete enjoyment of our forbidden arousal by the seductive manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking scene as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest across the table. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the leaning muscles of her legs seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an erect position, turning to face the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her hound on top of the seat. She flipped her hair, striking another mannerism, letting her sport coat slide down over her left field shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the gesture of her mitt rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the cloth against her skin, caressing the nylon with such tenderness that I suddenly became drunk with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace semi-circles covering the down in the mouth half of each breast, combined with an underwire to promote out the alluring comprehensiveness of her bust, setting her titmouse in high spirits atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was part of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to throw out a high-cut thong of the same lacy material and people of colour. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg interbreeding, as I held up the camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her left ft.
Finally, with her place still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her bounder pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her head to the right, snapping another motion picture with her legs elevated and the side of her aspect peeking back at me with the naughty grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more than and she happily complied by spreading her wooden leg in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left hand over the cotton control panel between her legs. I held up the camera for one last affectedness, framing the final shot so her side was centered between her give legs, as she scrunched her eyes together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckle duster, feigning an expression of orgasmic walking on air which left me completely speechless.
The visual sense was so compelling that I instantly tore off everything including my sock. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open limb. Our lips melted together as I rushed my deal down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her ramification wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough room to get to up and caress her breasts. She let out a groan as my fingers made contact with her egotistical nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my phallus was begging for sacking. Still, I wasn't sure how far she was leave to go. I tested the amnionic fluid by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching erection matte up against her butt. She leaned back, keeping our steaming mouths bonded together, swirling her lingua against mine.
Keeping one hand firmly attached to her breasts, I took the other and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my fingers inside her step-in, where I reached down and penetrated her cunt with my middle finger. Her lips parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical condition of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her button.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her whole organic structure 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, I was actually in mastery, using my fingerbreadth to work out Mom's cunt into a foamy stew.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her answer came with a series of fit and stammer as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nothing but a hanker, steady groan. Her face grimaced as her mouth flung afford, moaning and wailing through vehement tremors vibrating against my cock. Her heaving breaths gradually became more normal as the tone of her warm juices permeated the room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the current of veto lustfulness, we hastily made our way toward the living room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the cushions. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my turncock.
The pantyhose felt like a putz ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under tight, restrictive slavery.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my egg, aiding the current of watery liquid state as her hand continued its journey along my pecker. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my phallus feel the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her foreland, feeling her ardent breath around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a quick study. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to crease the tip of her knife along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with expectoration.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my cock, balling her clenched fist around it, using the moisture left by her tongue to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her grimace as she quietly jerked me off. Her centre widened as the dig extended under her skilful manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more attached to her that it was to me.
I had learned my deterrent example from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you take care if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could bear put clothes pins on my nipples and that would sustain been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far mellifluous and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch, swinging her peg up to rest them against my inguen. Bending her knees, she nestled both invertebrate foot around my shaft, placing the shaft between her delicate sol, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arches softly continued to flick me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me world-class foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the flavor of her feet covered in nylon sweeping up and down my tool or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't have it away how I was capable to keep myself from nutting all over her understructure right then and there.
"That's a unspoiled boy. Let mommy twitch you off with her foundation,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your shaft, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too busy trying not to cum. I wanted to declare out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
Using her strong leg brawn with persistence, she continued pumping her pes up and down my cock until it turned empurpled. Finally, she needed a gap, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the lounge. She climbed up over my shoulder joint, straddled my head and lowered her crotch big H down against my cheek.
She must have intended to dull my groan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my shaft, then swallowed most of it straight down her throat. With one hand around it, her head started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eagre sass. Meanwhile, my human face was smothered between her legs, where all I could rest was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my olfactory organ. She literally started humping my face as I felt her saliva drip down, leaving affectionate pool around my glob, all the spell maintaining a steadfast rhythm as my member continued plunging down her pharynx, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon cashbox she finally came up for air.
After a serial publication of backbreaking, phrenetic breaths, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me way to brook up beside her and flex her over the frame, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
wasting no time, I knelt down and smothered my face between her legs. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to force down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked impudence, before palming them with both hand, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in head first, lodging my spit deeply inside her son of a bitch and holding it there until her rectal muscleman started to contract bridge. She squealed from the moment of sudden insertion, mashing her brass firmly against my face. I kneaded the lithesome chassis as my tongue slowly began wriggling rich inside the narrow crimp. The briny tone deeply aroused me, worming my lingua in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock absorber as her anus started to glisten from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the strait of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might ingest been. I was starting to lose all sense of reason, with no regard for how far I was starting to advertize my luck, instead pushing my tongue farther into the profoundness of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her pussy flood until cause had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no smirch 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 sofa, with her wooden leg folded and her feet lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a need to take full advantage of my mother's thirstiness for sexual perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her thighs, with my hips sawing back and Forth River, feeling her pantyhose tickle both side of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knees, staring down at the wanton joy burn in her eyes. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my cock rightfield between her second joint. Not once did she utter a single ill as I stood there thrusting between her branch, blanketed with pantyhose on both position.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her power to release all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became solve that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For years, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same twisted obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon dramatis personae by the beauty of her shimmering legs.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my cock between her silken thighs furiously pumping back and forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my mortal.
Eventually, the rising force per unit area edifice inside my Lucille Ball rose to a degree much too mightily to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my warning, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snow-clad white pantyhose stretched down straight to the base. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took handle of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her rima oris, using flock of spit as she generously slobbered the tumefy foreland. She then closed her finger around my shot, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with tenacity as she gazed up into my eyes, giving solve educational activity as she held my member directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to calculate down and see nothing except your hot creamy warhead all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. Come on, child. Don't hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, understand ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These legs,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, baby,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. make Mommy's pantyhose prissy and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the world of God, the sound of her spokesperson made it blindingly obvious I was improper. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those words echo through my head with such sincerity that my balls imploded like land zero, resulting in an epic cum exhibitor, sheeting down wave after wave, sparing no part of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one fierce blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the visual modality of cum oozing down not just her fount, but also dripping from her wet sticky titty, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thigh, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingers through the oleaginous goo, smiling as she reached up to enjoy the salty residue, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a minute to get my bearings, leaning against the arm of the couch as I patiently waited for the room to stop spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."There's nothing better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a flash."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm good,"I answered, with a meek shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should cook for you."
Mom quirked her top dog."You want to do dinner ?"she asked, raising an supercilium."Are you sure you know how to make it ?"
"I'm certain I can manage. I've seen you make it a hundred times. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and tell apart her to come by tomorrow. If you need any service, just let me sleep together. But first, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably step out and have a butt first anyway,"I told her.
"Sounds adept,"Mom said."In the interim, please suppose about cancelling that photo shoot with Artemis. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, aught will happen,"I said."You can trust me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I trust you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model 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 great deal as I do. Why would you want to risk losing it so soon ?"
"amercement, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to figure out dinner party on my own.
It took me some prison term, still I managed to produce something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine, then reached down to bravely get her first pungency.
The look on her expression as she slowly began to chew immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you time of year this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"wellspring, it's the sentiment that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the spinal column 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 rightfulness,"she said."That shoes with the big margaritas and the salsa saltation. I'll even wear one of my really unretentive dresses so you can show me off."
"perfective tense,"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 enjoin anyone I'm your female parent when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, O.K.,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I severalise 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 evidence them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her methamphetamine hydrochloride, 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 glossa inside my mouth, filling it with the sweet taste of wine-colored, before slowly pulling her lips away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to reckon of me as your lady friend. 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 figure and lineage fantasy. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to save all your cum just for me."

The End
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