sheepherder's Pie
By Earth angel

It all started when I was 10 long time old, the year my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to cause his obsession with K Theft Auto blindsided by his first crush.
I had just started Jnr highschool, where they made us read boring clobber like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to understand the risk of forbidden lust, yet old enough to observe how my mother would often do the aphrodisiacal affair without knowing it.
Things might make been unlike had my mother been more willing to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally take after at her heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my loose clock time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more curious tendencies.
She had an extensive shoe collection, to the highest degree of which were high heels. She loved wearing bounder so often that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the house, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No subject what she was doing, she always seemed to take something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a straw. If she was sitting at home grading papers, she'd sit there for hr sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football game every Sun, though she knew almost nothing about sports. She just enjoyed wearing her conform to jersey and a couple of leotards, rooting for whichever squad had the cunning signal caller.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The belief excited me so often that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the fourth dimension I finished high gear school, I was so exploited to being by my mother's incline that leaving for college lupus erythematosus than an hour away filled me with highly mixed emotions due to all the gravel memories left behind.
By my third year at Ralph Waldo Emerson, the novelty of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each going day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no girls and only a few male friends to help toss off the boredom.
One blue afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blue, with the radical idea of finding a new apartment for us to live together.
Even at 42, my female parent was still an incredibly striking woman, with long, flowing, chestnut John Brown whisker, hazel eye, flat boldness and scrawny rim set between her ellipse chin and the downward tip of her olfactory organ.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her glory daytime of richly school gymnastic exercise, where she'd collected multiple prize, mostly for balance beam. Still, she kept her torso in marvelous build, wearing voguish outfits that proudly displayed her pert breasts, cockeyed ass, and best of all, her long, head-turning branch.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal sentiment, my mother was the hottest charwoman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a full blown fixation. I tried my respectable to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to worry that I seemed to cause no interest in other young woman.
I had just started college two yr earlier, so the thought of moving back in with my female parent initially felt like a stride backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a pocket-sized, chunky apartment. My roomie was a total slob. Yet, in cattiness of the headaches, and as much as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and region of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to spend my junior class getting hammered every dark and screwing as many co-eds as possible. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the Lapplander boney kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and shit awkward gag around girls my own age, to the degree where even the horrifying ace started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favourite pictures of her on my mobile phone phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and cipher made me cum faster than looking at scene of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as retentive as I could commend I had always been captivated by my mother's branch. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up issue planning to teach merchandising at a nearby community college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their skirts. By that time, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many years. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this canonic element of her daily clientele attire distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and dimension of her recollective, sinuous stage.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that metre, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to wonder why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first place. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic effect immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary undergarment was imbued with over-the-top powers luring my oculus to linger over the supple tone of her inclination, slender calfskin, moving up to the meaty bod 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 toothsome round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering togs of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very first time that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an urgent nerve impulse to face down and gaze over the fulgent atmosphere emanating from her wooden leg. From the bottom of all her short-circuit skirts, down to the tips of her toes, each pair she wore had the power to enthrall me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at menage waiting for her to take the air in and complain off her sexy heels. My dreamy eyes followed as she tiptoed around the home, lost in the warm radiance of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the more I became desperate to feed my growing compulsion at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't strange for me to rive out my tv camera and get her to flummox for me out in world. She'd always been the type of mother who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing interestingness in picture taking. Eventually, I managed to collect dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous legs. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her photo after she went to bed, considering I was so Danton True Young, not to mention being her son.
My favorite word-painting for jerking off were the one that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before educational activity, working in corporate US had given her many year to develop this exceptional accomplishment. As a trained professional person, she was far too graceful to make one leg and carelessly flop it over the early.
Instead, with her head up and her perky breasts pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, drag her handwriting under her dame, then with total wing, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silklike radical, the lush contour visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her broken thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her house shapely calves in deliciously gross alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the texture, a thrilling phone that instantly made my shaft throb hearing that insidious swish.
Deep down, I knew it was amiss. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my female parent as the hottest woman on Earth. Her representative alone sent chills down my prickle, with the arrant diction and dignified simplicity of a well-trained, highly confident pedagog, with only the slightest trace of a typical New England stress.
Despite being over 40, her alimentary dieting and friendly demeanor gave her a young glow. She barely ate more than two pungency of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every break of the day. While it was clearly a positive thing, her healthy lifestyle only encouraged my strong-arm draw to continue building and become more powerful each day.
Her bra sizing was an average 34-B. Yet, her modest chest proudly stood out in contrast with her petite waistline, jutting from the unconvincing material of her pixilated blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working single mom, I had to conceive of she still had needs. Yet, to my set knowledge, after the divorce, she had no men in her life-time. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so a great deal fourth dimension worrying if I was getting laid, she might take had time to appointment. She should hold had whirl lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own verboten puppy love and my ever increasing luxuria for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell number flashed up across the screen. The timing was dire as I'd just settled on one of her better flick, taken in Times foursquare. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a lightlessness miniskirt, black pumps, and a radiant distich of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the picture just as Mom walked over to pose adjacent to a tall New York streetlight. It was like she could register my thought process as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only one-half visible under her foresighted tomentum, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rust-brown pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the tv camera, flexing her remaining knee behind her back. She stood there holding the pose for several second base, with one shoe playfully lifted off the priming coat and a smile on her face as brilliant as the pantyhose on her ramification.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the speech sound up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to observe the noisy jingle of swath, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a instant ?"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 dangerous. Still, I'd just spent the death five hour drooling over her sexy photograph. I'd even pulled out a distich of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my endure trip home. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My peter was already throbbing. All I could think about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my helping hand, then taking my slick fingerbreadth and wrapping them gently around my cock. Naturally, the more she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two months,"she said."I just got a varsity letter that my rent is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can give that."
"Okay,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not sanction,"she said."I'm going to have to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd feel if I moved up to Boston."
At that particular moment, I probably should let been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so ripe around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without intellection, just for the probability to be up last and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to conceive about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not for certain 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 inquiry hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the instructor's couch,"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 stage crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one shoe off her invertebrate 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 take in things easier ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the genuine reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been crazy about the locality you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a nice place for the two of us."
It took me another here and now to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the quiet velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the distance of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely centre. I was too in use wondering what her rid script was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her finger over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at home ? Was she dipping one pes in and out of her horseshoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to have sex for sure enough. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's lounge, in full horizon of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old times. I can always chance piece of work at another campus. Plus we can find a place with more place for your television camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a sentiment, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a lead of her pantyhose gusset plate peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to proceed myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to lecture to Jimmy about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roommate, even if our letting was calendar month to calendar month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some priming coat rules,"I added, when I started to substantiate the freedom I'd be giving up purely to see her leg every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to work the formula now, huh ? okey. Like what ?"
"Nothing John Roy Major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll respect each former's privateness. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys rest home or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to occupy about that."
My calendar method of birth control was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was tight, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a sander, to a greater extent delicate clash to my teasing hand virgule.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each other's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you blank space to smoke 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 out from me."
"Mom, what the Inferno,"I said, voicing my annoyance."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first chemical reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explicate, parsing her language carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a slight 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 dwelling house surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of real women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Jesus Christ, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"enough,"she said, in a sobering tint that made me a wee bit nervous."I never knew you had such a affair for older woman,"she continued."Maybe I should present you to some of the teachers here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the persuasion of her checking my computing machine behind my vertebral column, by then my capitulum was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the study to something more stimulating."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a endorse, as I lied there waiting for her resolution. The lift in her representative told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must consume been reading my brain,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but compliment 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 wait to see how they look."
"wellspring, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at plaza in the daybreak. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to fare,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool off tomorrow. You might desire to bear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be alright,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jeans. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a duad,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jeans,"I repeated, resisting the impulse to moan."I shot that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not concerned in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute or so before I exploded all over my hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just work sure you tell jemmy to wear some pants this time. It's a picayune awkward seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a fiend."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 doll I'm wearing today is forgetful than that."
"well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you hold back your scholar from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's sort of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"Stop it, Mom. You look outstanding. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any early charwoman. We all like to hear it."
"Well, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your mother, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal moment. In 19 years, my female parent had never asked me a head as directly intimate as that. My balls were practically about to burst. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my unnatural desire to run my hands over her indulgent silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy legs. Still, I somehow managed to answer with an reply intended to enshroud my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to take a uncanny round. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, say me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same prison term."Seriously, I want to cognise,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive eruption."Do you cogitate I'm a MILF…like the unity you look at on those muddy site ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't Tell whether she wanted the truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, blockage,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"okeh, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to cook you uncomfortable. Just tell me one matter. Which theatrical role of a cleaning woman's consistence do you like most ? Wait, let me infer, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My better selection was to bear on back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we unload it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't occlusion there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the state I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, turn back it. I can't carry this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this whole estimation. It's bad enough you can't regain a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the hold out time,"I said, starting to miss 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 tomb ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose voodoo I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the time. I certainly don't want you having sexual thought process about me. Surely, I don't have to recite you how inappropriate that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how inappropriate it was. In that here and now, I honestly didn't fear. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a retribution, bent on ruining her pantyhose no subject what, dying to dowse every screw thread with a massive wad of stocky sebaceous nerve, purely out of cattiness.
I closed my centre, instantly reliving the indelible store that triggered my hoodoo in the maiden place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing see-through pantyhose with no bird on. I could see her returning from work in her black fuck-me pumps, the stale olfactory perception of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her vain pes. I could even picture the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hips switching from side to side, pretending not to have it off how men spun toward the sound of her spiked heel clicking on the sidewalk, only to arrive household, skin off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my tongue over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My lurid memories pushed me right over the sharpness. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my urge to groan, watching green of semen blast into the air, surging from the head of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hired man, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no estimation what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my reckless act, her pantyhose swimming in a pocket billiards of cum.
Finally, I managed to collect myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"aspect Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be reliable. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just hang up up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being dependable. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important decision, I think you should severalise me everything. recount me the the true, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one hand, by saying no, she'd most likely sense that I was lying, which would only clear her angry and potentially spoil any hazard of us moving back in together. On the early hand, telling the true statement would most likely freak out her out so much that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even unfit.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly surely what to do, the first thing I usually did was try to opine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the honest way to resolve her question was to turn it around and ask her a doubt of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before cunningly attempting to redirect."But low gear I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a poor breathing time."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your straits. I think if we're going to hold out together, then you have to promise to find a girlfriend and start aliveness in the real man. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"Good,"she said."I'll see you in the morning. And don't forget to institute back my pantyhose."
* * *
The next morning, Mom showed up right on agenda, in a form-fitting, inkiness, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a atomic number 47 necklace which failed to keep me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her plunging neckline. Her blue skinny blue jean sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every breaking ball under skintight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, black leather sandals, with thin strap spanning over her raw groundwork.
Looking down at the handlock of her jeans, the first thing I noticed was the perturbing absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my altogether nighttime tossing and turning in anticipation of seeing them the side by side morning.
My first inherent aptitude was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how implicated she was talking about my fetish. So the finale affair I wanted to do was call any inordinate attention to it decently away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roomie, Jimmy, promptly emerged from his room. The grin on his face told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a cultivated handshake. For a few proceedings, she and jimmy stood there making small talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could talk 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 stopping point pair of pantyhose with a sheer cad and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to wash out the couplet I'd taken from her dresser. So I promptly fished them from the pile of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give her a here and now to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must make been hurrying too a good deal to realize that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow down go, knowing it was wrong, yet still unable to deplume my eyes from watching her undress.
With her backrest turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one horseshoe at a clip, enjoying the adorable tidy sum of denim smothering her tight round butt. I then heard the speech sound as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her hands went up to her face. She hooked her ovolo into the narrow waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hip joint side of meat to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a G-string, resisting the urge to pant as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her naked ass. My gumshoe instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a clear thought of her outer pussy lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that Jimmy would take the air by and see me standing there at any bit. Still, my incredible fortune was too adept to evanesce up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her quick fingers rolled up the first leg. She then lifted her left foot, then reached down and slid the gang of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slid the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended human knee. She set down her unexpended infantry, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her proper human foot inside the opposite arm, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her genu, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her lithe thigh, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely hip joint under the straining waistband, making one final accommodation to bank line up the stitching along her narrow butt quip, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a fantastic layer of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a twosome of half-moons.
I could let stood there watching forever, but my instinct told me to drop by the wayside while I was ahead, knowing she could plow around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the living room to find Jimmy rolling a join, which I'd come to expect as constituent of his break of day routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a foresighted talk where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, jemmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to move in with his girl in a few weeks anyway. Fortunately, there were no concentrated opinion between us, especially when I stopped to reckon who my new roommate was soon to be.
moment later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the lot of pantyhose covering her pretty feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to harbor my raging hard-on from her view. We left my flat and set out to detect our new position, quickly escaping so Mom could obviate jemmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the wheel and turned on the local eighties place. The song on the radio thankfully managed to tranquillise my erection as I road beside her, shifting my centering toward the highly ironical lyrics.
"Every lilliputian affair she does is a conjuration. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to pass the next couple of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second base walk-up apartment, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The sign of the zodiac was owned by a Whitney Young, honeymooner couple named Book of Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first base level. Book of Joel was a successful contractile organ in the metropolis. Cynthia was a former nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given parentage to their world-class child. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the sizing of her tremendous titty which seemed to account for nearly half her body weight, especially considering how short-circuit she was. If I had to infer, I would take in said she was easily a G-cup…With a working capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big bosom !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inch shorter, as I stood at Mom's side of meat and watched them converse with each former, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost champion when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the Saame mellow school as my mother, only eight years later.
Artemis led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our optic. The situation had literally everything we wanted, high ceiling, hardwood floors, with short ton of space, including a turgid eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the leftfield was a combination dining and living room area, divided by sliding image doors. On the right was a small place, a humble guest john, then the kitchen, followed by a modest depot outer space, with a door to the bet on porch, and stair leading up to the bean. The attic had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two chamber, and a magnanimous master bathing tub.
Mom and I signed the rental in a matter of years, agreeing to move in by October 1st.
The move itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired movers to address all the big article of furniture. Then, on William Ashley Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hours. Sometime around noontide, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no food. I offered to initiate unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the motortruck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and start removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old books and pic albums, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound journal which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty-bellied room and quietly cracked open the starting time Page.
The first entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six month after my parents'divorce.
The first few entering 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 mortal else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was somebody Sir Thomas More traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did appear much happier with his new trophy wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when matter started to pick up a bit.
Nov 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with microphone Ed Sullivan in the stairwell over by his office. I'm not even for certain why I did it. He's almost 10 yr young than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my eccentric. He hasn't stop toying with me ever since he heard I was back on the market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to encourage him. It wasn't my decision to move the copier outside his office. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the storey. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just play along. At world-class, he would drop it and clean it right back up. Now he likes to hover down there and stare at my legs for a while. It's pretty suspect to watch. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same thing. 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 sufficiency lately. The stopping point affair I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about Mike. Weary Willie and Old World robin are throwing a sayonara party for me tomorrow night. microphone said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could differentiate he liked it too. His dick got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No marvel he's fucked half the char in the office. 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 one dollar bill on a firebrand new political party dress and that son of a squawk didn't even show up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were good deal of former guys there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again adjacent week. It was kind of odd being the shopping centre of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know redbreast was pretty overjealous. I told her to hold back buying me shot. Besides, no one puts sprigger rod in a bar full moon of drunken charwoman expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussy for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm sure Mike would sustain loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his cock. I really want to get fucked. I should probably invest in a good vibrator. I would have bought one calendar month ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find it. He's always sneaking into my elbow room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my pantie drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to jack off by now. The lowest thing I want to happen is a vast cum dirt on one of my satin thong. I guess at some breaker point I'll have a talk of the town with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's member. I really wish his Father were here…
I would get kept recitation 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 mentation scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or sinless as I'd always believed. She seemed to delight getting attention from younger men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a slut really got me excited. I stepped out onto the backbone porch, where I lit up a butt, trying to cool off myself down.
The view from the stake porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the drape were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the nook of the way, I spotted an empty rocking president, adjacent to what looked like the railings on a child's cribbage. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the infant in her arms. Even from such a high angle, it was virtually unimaginable to look down and see anything other than her humongous tits. The effigy reminded me of those IMAX movies where they show you the Earth from outer space and you can still see the Himalaya Mountains only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't help smiling at the abstemious blue button up sweater she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from babe Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to puff in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already horny as fuck, as I watched Artemis pass up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her left breast washout through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's lip over her swell up mammilla. My entirely life I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth River. I've always preferred legs, but there was no denying the beauty of Cynthia's phenomenal jugful. The size of her breasts reminded me of my days back at the pizza pie shop, where we laid out the lolly until it rose into soft, rhythm, flesh-colored mounds. The recollective I watched, the more I found myself jealous of her slight boy and the blissful look on his case as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my prick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the social movement threshold. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back interior.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a scant, heather Thomas Gray, New England nationalist T-shirt, with black spandex yoga pants, and a pair of brown fur-lined boots. Her haircloth 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 hummer. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's fine. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a Republic of Turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the piles of debris everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"Good 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 tooshie, while Mom leaned against the comeback and started to eat.
After one morsel, she strolled over toward me, walking around in straw man of the professorship, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck opening and her peg stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home plate. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't chosen that exact second to set her ass on top of my groin. The scowl on her face instantly told me she could feel how hard I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a irregular, looking at me with this tortured look on her boldness like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this low temperature, distant flavour in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone vociferation over again. Only this time, there was no cagy way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to await her directly in the cheek. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focalise on was the fluency of her leging as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety leotards, not swerve like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the pinch. On the summation English, the cloth was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her arms in front end of her.
"Maybe you should enjoin me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to face her, I lifted my sweaty palms and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her promontory."feeling, I understand that you're youth and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the theater 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 slowly. It takes time."
"okay, maybe you're right,"she said."So in the lag, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just deliver to deal with it on my own."
"Fine,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the logical thing to do in that place would have probably been to stand up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to cause sparkle of the situation, hoping to cut the tensity by seeing if Mom was willing to bear a sense of humor about the solid thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to bend away. Then she slowly twisted her point back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow down slits of her eyes.
"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."
Her reaction hit me like a slug in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with the great unwashed calling me a WIMP. I'd never been good at athletics. In school, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in class. little girl pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, 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 fastener, reached in and promptly pulled out my pecker.
"OK, clip out,"Mom said, putting her work force up."This has gone far enough. Put your peter back in your knickers, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an supercilium, with a mild laughter and an obvious smirk on her aspect."So you just await me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is convention ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her head to her chest, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a legal brief minute, she slowly raised her head up, responding with a forgetful nod, as she quietly answered."amercement, do what you want. I can't plosive you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never remark this again."
Admittedly, it would have been easy to turn back right there. I could receive easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a tobacco user and she'd obviously chosen to disregard her own ruler about smoking inside the sign. Still, after clearing a blank for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophism that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a blow of smoke."You're favorable I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any fellow feeling, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a second, startling me as she sprang up, with cigaret in hand, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sinkhole, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a small plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. Bottle in deal, she leaned over the head of my rooster, squirting out a generous ball of creamy application, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"volition that help ?"she said, with a grin on her boldness which I instantly read as modest amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the bag, making her sentry as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny prepuce, making it glint from all sides, enabling me to enjoy the feeling of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my inflexible jibe, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to flick off.
I sat there hoping she would canvass my technique, imagining one day to palpate her hand instead of my own. The look on her nerve lacked any physical body of face, as if to prevent me from noticing any signs of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really rush along this up,"she said, dropping her script to her hip."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to agitate this even further."You could flex around and evidence me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and demo you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I look at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of implicit mightiness, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with ebullience.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I look at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snort."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out less than three inches from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how beneficial it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is everlasting. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the sight of her disgraceful leging stretched taut over the curve of her firm shapely tush. She kept her feet together, accentuating the incline where the small of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the loaded cloth, so amazingly turn and full phase of the moon, I could barely view as back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm sword lily you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a short further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more than orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. read ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my breather."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."
With no reluctance, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my mother to sour around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index finger's breadth, directing me to stomach in straw man of the chairman. Then I watched as she set her knee down on the wooden seat, keeping her peg together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her rigorous gluteal muscle,"right here, all over your female parent's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then show me,"she said."appearance me how horny you are right now. Let me feel it. Let me feel that hot encumbrance all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the speech sound of her voice nearly caused me to expire out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even able of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to yank off in our trade name new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga bloomers ?
I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no fortune to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock smack up against her butt, a forceful hit softened by the leging and the meaty bod underneath, the complete shock absorber for my throbbing phallus to grind against her smooth out, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified shriek, as I grabbed her by the waistline, ignoring her vocal protest as I violently started thrusting my articulatio coxae back and Forth River, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of course, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in coming back. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my cock. Her voice was raspy and out of breathing time, with her question forward, hairsbreadth swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your putz is so difficult. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes infant, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me palpate your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk occur gushing out of my cock like a broken urine main. The force play of each spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My expression was buried in her pilus as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our dead body mashed together, the lingering sensation of her delicate cheeks pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining seminal fluid flowing from my aching Ball.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my groundwork, the black leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick layer of white creamy foam, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the pass of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the crack of her damp pussy.
Covered in perspiration, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go modification,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained still. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good idea,"she said, slowly rising to her understructure."Just try to keep off getting another hard-on in the next ten mo, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest period of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as a great deal fourth dimension to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the residual of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking most of our affair. Mom spent most of her fourth dimension in the kitchen, while I worked in the life room hooking up our tv and stereo. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football game. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some friends from schoolhouse who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next break of day, I woke up and walked downstairs to an vacate business firm. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely enough time to snap up a quick shower, throw on some clothes and race off to get to my good morning class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to worry that my foolish natural process had managed to ruin everything on our first of all day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note with a tilt of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the reverence of Mom telling me to displace out made it virtually impossible to concentre on anything else. I stared off into infinite, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought of going menage, certain of what was destined to come.
My final exam course of study ended at noonday. Fortunately, before moving out, jimmy had kindly given me two ounces of Blue aspiration. So I figured the better affair to do was go menage, smoke a sports stadium and have a span beers, just to devise myself for the foul humour my female parent was sure to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the house, I instantly remembered my female parent's journal, as I headed up to her elbow room and luckily found it in the same box where I'd left it, right at the foundation 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 sort of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a aspect. He was well dressed for a younger guy with a nice business enterprise 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 butt, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly find him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could let got up and observe another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and kept my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a moment, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take the hint and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a second, I was expecting him to take the air over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how neural he was to approach me. I was variety of insulted, but then I figured if all he wanted was a display then why not collapse him one just to fuck with his head. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee bean, turned my hip toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them open to show him the disgraceful thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my legs back and forth. Each clip, I held my legs open for a second, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to pursue me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a neat hand on a Black person pair of jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice glossy finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the windowpane. The work bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my black thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some subvert keep me from buying place. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my legs open and my chick up around hips, working my understructure into the horseshoe. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to dally barren with his rear turned. At that point in time, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the passing and turned around to see if he was still behind me. Sure enough, he walked out with a grinning on his face like he hadn't done anything incorrect. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful pegleg. I asked if he got off peeking up womanhood's doll. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a snatch or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to train me out for a drink to see if he could interchange my opinion. He looked a minuscule angry when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to learn him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly undid my blouse, then told him to take out his cock. He looked around for a back. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my laurel wreath, taking his turncock in one manus, while using the other to slowly draw up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the other to stroke his rooster hard and fasting. 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 lading rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a ace word…
The passage ended there, but the rout out force lingered in my pictorial imaging longer after I set down the daybook.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without doubtfulness my first realize evidence that the char who raised me and handed down all of my lesson was willing to engage in extreme, high-risk, sexual behaviour with seemingly any young man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the aspect and intuitive feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my mother's dark face, determined to see how far she was willing to go to meet her inscrutable sexual desires.
One hr later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoke and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footsteps coming up the step. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my fountainhead, as I walked toward the sound of somebody knocking on the room access.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Book of Joel standing there wearing his tool rap. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced DoS, I almost choked as I opened the threshold and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a shining Orange satin nightie.
"trade good morning,"she said, over a recondite oscitance, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled look, as I glanced down at her hazy pink slider."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would deliver come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's poise. Come on in,"I said, pulling the doorway open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty Handy with a spanner myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to centre on her face."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alert, radiator, bathroom sump, and one of the promiscuous switches in the attic."
"No worry,"she said."Smoke alarm probably needs a new electric battery. If the light transposition isn't working, I'll have to order Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the sustenance room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had short blond hairsbreadth, in one of those voguish bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely frame for the fullness of her rung, chubby side. Knowing how critical some char are, she might have described herself as overweight. In my opinion, the extra baby weight just made her look more voluptuary. Her coxa were fairly wide, yet her stomach was still pretty categoric, with a pair of incredibly huge knockers, giving her a everlasting hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a niggling under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent-grass over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no civil way to keep myself from staring down at her giant hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Artemis's pap reminded me of those profound udder down at the gym, two of them, side to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonderment for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbleful through the Orange satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apologia for showing up one-half naked, I did my skilful to relieve her sense of urging, hoping not to hinder her.
"You could hold waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave workplace until five or six. She's more sensible to the cold than I am. My old apartment was much speculative. Not to cite, we trust you."
"Well, I'm gladiolus you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our beginning tenant since we bought this place…hate to start out off on the wrong foot,"she added."The radiator seems fine, must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's variety of clueless, so I need to get back and assure on the sister. 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 see to it out the sink too. I just need to put on some actual clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be secure to jade a little more side by side time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightgown had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a short distracting,"she said, tugging on the shoulder strap, a useless effort to track up, making her breast marrow jiggle under the night-robe, as I stood there fighting to keep my orb inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in forepart of the office, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that trade good, but it's always been a rocking horse. When I was young, I had this pipe dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like athletics Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Sir Hiram Stevens Maxim or Corinthian,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's aplomb,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up style. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just collide with me as more…I don't know, Conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a paw Romney bumper stumper, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"wellspring, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the more than Cynthia reminded of the girls I knew back in richly shoal, the one who'd been spoiled since nativity and hid their emotions under a well-practiced grinning 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 sure enough what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some nice glamour crack, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our kinship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how afford she was about her married couple. Still, I couldn't ignore the pernicious flirt of this desperate housewife or the rapidly growing hard-on in my knickers.
"Umm, sure, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to talk over wardrobe and take some mental testing shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the bulwark and slowly proceeded to peel down the justly strap of her nightie, letting it flow off her shoulder.
"Will the Light Within in here employment for you ?"
"I'll use the flash,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the mo the television camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her deficiency of shyness, never expecting so much authority in front end of the lens system. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just present moment earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting lips and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the stimulating upshot of her randy gentle eyes. Yet, the sultry facial expression on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her arms together, thrusting her breast toward the camera like twofold airbags, completely filling up the frame with more cleavage than my mind could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various affectedness, when I mildly requested that we step over across the hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the paw, 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 head tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the roof.
"creative thinker if I ask you a personal query,"I asked, as she shifted over to her unexpended incline, returning my dubiousness with a knowing smile.
"You want to cognise how big they are."
"fountainhead, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be lowly 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 offend your back ?"
"All the sentence,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two congius of milk strapped to your dresser. It sort of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your nipple ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm breast feeding. But I'd rather do that than use formula, more than 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 lots of fruit to bring in it sweeter. Otherwise, it's form of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these pictorial matter and see which angles work best. Let me know when you have metre for a broad picture shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need time to reckon about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calmness in her voice combined with her level regard gave me a light feeling as I set down the photographic camera, then pulled out a electric chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed matter couldn't possibly get weirder, this adult female I barely knew was offering to let me try out her bosom milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the second I saw her, my first of all impulsion was to bury my cheek between her thorax and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial impact prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little funny.
She seemed to savour teasing me as her flop hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left berm shoulder strap. sweat string of beads formed across my brow as she fixed her centre on me and quietly peeled down the other. My heart concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her massive thorax, where Artemis reached up and thrillingly set her deal to patiently ease down the shiny cloth. Finally, with a lump in my throat, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to tear out her enormous jugs.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't bottom how a adult female so small could end up with tits that big. Each one was larger than my head and must have weighed at least ten Syrian pound, as I sat there entranced by the size and material body of these two gigantic world, hovering in from my face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with stretch bell ringer along both sides of her otherwise porcelain hide.
As big as they were, Cynthia's mammilla were far too heavy to escape the force of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue really started to joggle.
phonograph needle to say, I was totally stunned as Artemis pulled her titmouse out for all their aura, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to recognize how proud she was of her immense 38FFs.
Sitting in the chair, my middle were level with her pinko tit, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her non-white areola, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked digit, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, loose all-inclusive, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed parliamentary procedure, leaning my promontory back, then parting my brim opened and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the pourboire of her quarter round and forefinger on each side of her rectify nipple. Then, using light source insistence, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The get-go sprinkling squirted from her nipple like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfect, pointing her nipple directly in forepart of my mouth. I instantly closed my heart, compelled by the need to burn this here and now deep into my remembering forever. The flavor seemed to renovate something buried in my subconscious mind. The sweet, lemony liquid filling my open lip magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me clip to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my backtalk. My eye opened just in prison term to see her lifting her former breast, which soon began streaming milk over my lingua as well.
As Artemis continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my clapper through the lovesome nectar, letting the savour seep into every turning point of my mouth, tingling my taste buds, as the creation around me faded into a remote fuzz.
"individual seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best thing I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's seraphic,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really value your help with the pictures. But I should probably direct back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my Charles Herbert Best to seem casual."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more large-minded than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't assistance myself from testing the waters just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you feel about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those matter. They made us wear them all the time at the infirmary. You know, like those slimy white compression hosepipe. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nurse's outfit, with white heels and calendered white hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just make me front good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a job,"I said, escorting her to the room access. She left me with a brief hug and a balmy kiss on the cheek, as I closed the door, wiping the perspiration off my forehead.
* * *
By the time Cynthia left, I felt like a add together zombi. My dick was so punishing I could barely walk, like all the blood in the rest of my eubstance had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly cower back upstairs, looking to see Mom's journal once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random transit. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the date of her latest entry. My chest heaved the moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to cognise 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 flavour that something inside her wanted it to hap too. In my mind, the opening was so tantalizing that the forbidden excitement of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that breaker point, I wanted a way to make the mo even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a cold room. Or maybe it was just my natural instinct taking over as I walked over and pulled opened my mother's top draftsman.
I opened it to find a luxuriant cumulus of high gear lineament women's hose, in a the great unwashed of colouring, form and thickness story. I studied the pile, breathing heavily over the bounty of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose snack counter. I rummaged through the atomic pile, searching until my hands came across a feather unaccented pair of silky, midnight Shirley Temple Black pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the draftsman, I made my way over to the bed, removing my jeans and underwear, before nervously sitting down to shape out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to flub my way through it, taking program line from the retentiveness of watching Mom put them on under her jean. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knee, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my rooster and egg. My dick stood up like a pin rod as I stretched the delicate threading to its boundary, drawing the waistband several inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my tummy. That starting time moment of sum encasement from the waist down filled my totally body with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own smooth legs took me to a storey of excitation I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the fabric, making me finger right at home.
Ready to start reading, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her titty, and the crazy anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my load as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the weed, sent me into a dreamlike country as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting dissimilar lately. I love him to death and I can't assist feeling responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting sometime and he's basically turn enough to make his own conclusion. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendencies that are far too severe to command. I was able to attend past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for erotica. But how can I possibly ignore this freakish obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animal. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those things. It's concentrated to even tolerate the thought of letting him cheapen me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my life sentence, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own flesh and ancestry. What variety of female parent would I be to let him conceive what he did was okeh ? It doesn't matter how lots I enjoyed it. There's nothing awry with enjoying the feeling of somebody 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 self-assurance to displume it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a reasonably enough size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so rip since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so fast-growing lately. I wish there was somebody I could babble to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him bump person, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is gaga. I missed him so much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can work this out, as long as I'm able to control myself honest that he can. estimate we'll just birth to wait and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the daybook and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my oculus, letting her words rematch in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the audio of keys jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was one-fourth past five. Mom was already place. I leapt off the bed, shoved the diary back in the box, then ran to my way with no time to occupy off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a pair of socks, and promptly walked down to recognize her sudden arrival, staying as calm as I could.
"You're plate early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a plenty of junk mail, as I noticed a bag of market 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 courteous in her stylish greyish business suit. The color was a niggling olive drab, but the cut was extremely flatter, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off compensate above mid-thigh, leaving more than than decent leg on display where I could briefly pause to gaze over the neutral color of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her Andrew Dickson White leather pump.
"Sorry, probably smoked too much,"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 make up sheepman's pie."
The peach Mom referred to was an Irish people casserole, made with onions, cultivated carrot, primer coat lamb or beef, topped by a level of creamy mashed Irish potato. It was also an in spite of appearance joke among our class.
Shepherd was the gens Mom took when she got marry, the gens she'd kept after the divorcement so her stopping point name would still be the Sami as mine. Mom could manipulate almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and former special occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the good Communist China ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your Father and I had the same affair for dinner when we moved into our first place. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should make up it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the opinion of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty right. 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 nursing home. I had spent nigh of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would have said something right then, but the smile on her face was so open and full of warmness that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the elbow room. In that moment, I could only take over that Mom had made the conclusion to propel on like goose egg had ever happened. So instead of confronting the thing headway on, I did my best to brush off the tension between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still finger her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the way. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my header as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck. Her perfume smelled like mint candy as her hazelnut heart cut justly through me. Her farsighted, sweetheart gaze calmed me to the point where the scare inside me gradually started to blow over away.
"Why are you so tense up ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not sure,"I said,"just been a strange couple of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been pretty nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could feel the heat of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the lips. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't sense my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how much I missed you all this time. It means so much that you're willing to give up your exemption to dwell with your crazy, old mom. I want you to know no subject what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and kiss her as hard as I could. The twinkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and press my rim firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining tabular array ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a second, quickly blinking, trying to collect my thoughts. In hindsight, perhaps I should take in lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a mild grinning on my face, as I calmly proceeded to explain how Artemis had stopped by earlier, noticed the television camera in the authority and thought it would be cool to return Joel some sexy picture for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her face immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her promontory to the side."Are you sure she just wanted mental picture, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her body felt like she was bracing for a major shock. Her middle stared intently as she quietly held her breathing time.
"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 topic of breast milk. At first, it was all pretty criterion. 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 stop her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left hand and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those pictures before Joel hears about this,"she said."The cobbler's last thing we need is a reason for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the tv camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the picture show one at a time.
I could hear the injury in her spokesperson as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's nothing,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a keep. It's just a way to start my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulders. The hairsbreadth falling over her face made it unmanageable to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her berm, trying to console her.
Finally, with tears welling in her eye, she looked back, interpreter shakiness as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her news struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without cerebration, I lunged forward and kissed her with More heat than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my spit, returning my lust-filled plosion with the like intense urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how long. Our manpower roamed everywhere, groping each other's dead body in a wild fury. The wonderful texture as I ran my fingers through her silky brown tomentum, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my pecker, stirred me to reached down and shove both script under her dame, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no excuse, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingers over every inch of that silklike nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her lithe buttock yielding to the pressure of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a thin bed 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 hush-hush inside my denim. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to reach out down and grab her by the articulatio radiocarpea. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to arrest my hired man from steadily caressing her hose-covered hip and second joint, as she urgently reached through my open 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 nothing I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her fingers softly caress me through me through the nylon, a mo of soundless recognition passed between us, where placing her hand against the smooth, sinister fiber of the pantyhose hidden inside my jeans opened a portal vein leading to the shadow of prohibit sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingerbreadth over the outline of my bulging shaft. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her deal 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."fountainhead, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her ticklish mite, with her fingers gliding over the rooftree of my remains, pulsating shaft, light as a plumage, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my sapless spots, while brushing the lead of her fingers against my sore glans.
My answer described the feeling of both her hired hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying sensation, letting the pleasance absorb through my crotch, spreading through every cell of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little pissed, but not uncomfortable."
The distributor point of her nail circled around the tip of my rooster, slowly moving down to my aching clump. Her articulation returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a trivial constraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do have to say one affair. I can't deny my belief any to a greater extent than you can. So I'm willing to let us act with each other but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that stand for ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one step at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my hoodoo is good enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't gloaming far from the tree."
With her Caucasian heel still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my light beam, bending her human knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grate movement, as if purposely trying to increase the clash, mounting the atmospheric pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from stern, forcing our consistency to conflate together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing entire well the effect she was having on me.
"Best impression in the earth,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm sure I can convert you otherwise. assure me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling somerset of her tomentum, as I watched her quietly mistreat back toward the dining table.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her heels together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zipper. With one deal on each incline 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 nates. The nylon control condition top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whitened than the nylon extending down her branch.
"Is this a good slant ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"adopt a picture, it'll last longer,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to pick up the camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my best to retain my hands steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the Lens vertically, wanting to enamor the wax extension of her ramification, ensuring her bounder were seeable in the frame of reference. My excitement was so overwhelming I could barely maintain my tightness. The embodiment of all my fancy stood just a few footfall away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was strong physical evidence straining under the press of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our out stimulation by the seductive manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking moving picture as she leaned all the way over, laying her dresser across the table. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curve of her ass, while the lean muscles of her peg seemed to stretch even more.
From there, she returned to an upright spatial relation, turning to front the windowpane. She noticed a president inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the seat. She flipped her hairsbreadth, striking another affectedness, letting her blazer slide down over her get out berm. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the motion of her script rubbing back and Forth against her leg. She seemed to bask feeling the fabric against her cutis, caressing the nylon with such tenderness that I suddenly became drunk with lust.
The sports jacket 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 lower half of each titty, combined with an underwire to campaign out the alluring richness of her binge, setting her tits high gear atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was portion of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to construct out a high-cut thong of the Lapp lacy material and color. She didn't wait long to transfer into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the mesa, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg mark, as I held up the camera and focused on the clean dog dangling from her leave alone understructure.
Finally, with her horseshoe still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her heels pointed toward the roof. I watched as she crooked her top dog to the right, snapping another video with her peg elevated and the side of her face peeking back at me with the risque grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one Sir Thomas More and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left helping hand over the cotton panel between her leg. I held up the photographic camera for one last affectation, framing the final exam shot so her expression was centered between her open wooden leg, as she scrunched her eyeball together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an expression of orgasmic seventh heaven which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so compelling that I instantly tore off everything including my socks. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with undetermined blazonry. Our lips melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her stage wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough room to reach up and caress her chest. She let out a moan as my fingerbreadth made contact with her swollen nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with disco biscuit.
By then, my penis was begging for release. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was leave to go. I tested the Ethel Waters by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on flat up against her laughingstock. She leaned back, keeping our steaming back talk bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one bridge player firmly attached to her breasts, I took the former and slid it down over her abdomen, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my middle fingerbreadth. Her sassing parted as she moaned deeply against my oral fissure. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical stipulation of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her unit body started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to escape from even more. For once in my life, I was actually in control, using my fingers to work Mom's pussy into a foamy lather.
"Are you make to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her answer came with a series of fit and stutters as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nothing but a long, unshakable groan. Her face grimaced as her back talk flung open, moaning and wailing through violent shudder vibrating against my pecker. Her heaving breaths gradually became more normal as the smell of her fond succus permeated the way with the musky smell of her sex.
Swept by the flow of forbidden luxuria, we hastily made our way toward the livelihood room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the sofa. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the shock absorber. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my hammer.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under tight, restrictive bondage.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my musket ball, aiding the flow of weak liquidity as her hand continued its journey along my ray of light. 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 head, feeling her ardent breathing spell around the tip. She flicked out her knife, tasting the liquid state, mopping it like a poriferan. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her knife along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with tongue.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my cock, balling her fist around it, using the wet left by her knife to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her face as she quietly jerked me off. Her optic widened as the shaft of light extended under her practiced manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my chemical reaction as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more impound 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 mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put clothes PIN on my pap and that would have been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far unfermented and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite word end of the couch, swinging her legs up to repose them against my groin. Bending her stifle, she nestled both feet around my cock, placing the shaft between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky archway softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me first foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her pes covered in nylon sweeping up and down my cock or just the thought that my female parent was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't screw how I was able to proceed myself from nutting all over her metrical foot decently then and there.
"That's a in force boy. Let Mommy yank you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too engaged trying not to cum. I wanted to make out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
using her strong leg muscle with persistence, she continued pumping her feet up and down my cock until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my shoulders, straddled my brain and lowered her genitals smack down against my face.
She must make intended to muffle my groans as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed most of it straight down her throat. With one hand around it, her fountainhead started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eager rima oris. Meanwhile, my face was smothered between her legs, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my grimace as I felt her spittle drip mold down, leaving warm puddles around my balls, all the while maintaining a unwavering beat as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon till she finally came up for air.
After a series of hard, frantic breaths, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to remain firm up beside her and deform her over the put, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
cachexia no clip, I knelt down and stifle my face between her legs. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to draw out down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked cheeks, before palming them with both hands, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in headway first, lodging my natural language deep inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract. She squealed from the present moment of sudden introduction, mashing her boldness firmly against my aspect. I kneaded the supple figure as my tongue slowly began wriggling thick inside the narrow furrow. The briny flavor deeply aroused me, worming my knife in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock absorber as her anus started to shine from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the audio of her moan, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might have been. I was starting to turn a loss all sense of rationality, with no attentiveness for how far I was starting to crowd my luck, instead pushing my tongue farther into the depths of her squashy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her twat overflow until grounds had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no blot left in her dickhead where my clapper hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the edge of cast, with her legs folded and her pes lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a need to take replete advantage of my mother's thirst for perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her thighs, with my hips sawing back and forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both sides of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knees, staring down at the wanton delight burning in her center. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my cock right between her thigh. Not once did she emit a single ailment as I stood there thrusting between her legs, blanketed with pantyhose on both face.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her big businessman to release all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For geezerhood, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same twisted obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon cast by the smasher of her shimmering stage.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my peter between her silken thigh furiously pumping back and Forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my soul.
Eventually, the rising insistence building inside my balls rose to a layer much too herculean 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-covered white pantyhose stretched down straight to the level. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took grip of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using lots of spitting as she generously slobbered the swollen oral sex. She then closed her finger's breadth around my scape, tightening her clenched fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my eyes, giving clear command as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to see down and see nix except your hot creamy loading all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. fare on, babe. 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, babe,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. Make Mommy's pantyhose gracious and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that minute, if I'd ever questioned the macrocosm of God, the strait of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more surpassing than hearing those discussion echo through my drumhead with such seriousness that my Lucille Ball imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epic cum shower, sheeting down wave after wave, sparing no part of my female parent's body, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one furious blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her face, but also dripping from her wet sticky tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening second joint, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingerbreadth through the oleaginous slime, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty residue, slurping it in her backtalk like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a moment to get my bearings, leaning against the arm of the lounge as I patiently waited for the way to check spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still meddling 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 wink."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner party. You must be starving."
"I'm good,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should cook for you."
Mom quirked her capitulum."You want to make dinner party ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you sure you know how to create it ?"
"I'm for sure I can make do. I've seen you make it a one C meter. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and recite her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me know. But commencement, I should probably stick out in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably tone out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"Sounds adept,"Mom said."In the meantime, delight consider about cancelling that photo shoot with Artemis. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, null will happen,"I said."You can believe me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I swear you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the simulation of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the point,"she said."We just found this lieu. And I know you like it here as much as I do. Why would you want to lay on the line losing it so soon ?"
"Fine, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to figure out dinner on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to produce something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the mesa. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine-colored, then reached down to bravely take her foremost sharpness.
The tone on her typeface as she slowly began to masticate immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her chemical reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"Well, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the backbone 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 seat in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's rightfield,"she said."That lieu with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really dead garb so you can show me off."
"Perfect,"I said, smiling."Just don't forget the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, trust me, sweetie. You'll be seeing me a lot of me in pantyhose from now on,"she replied."Just try not to narrate anyone I'm your mother when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I tell masses if someone asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is narrate them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her deoxyephedrine, whispering her answer as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering kiss, sliding her lingua inside my mouth, filling it with the sweet predilection 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 think of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to hold out. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own flesh and descent fantasy. And I promise to never break off wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to save all your cum just for me."

The End
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