sheepherder's Pie
By terra firma Angel

It all started when I was 10 years old, the class my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to sustain his obsession with thousand Theft motorcar blindsided by his outset crush.
I had just started next-to-last high, where they made us read boring stuff and nonsense like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to empathize the dangers of taboo luxuria, yet old enough to remark how my female parent would often do the aphrodisiacal things without knowing it.
Things might induce been dissimilar had my mother been more willing to let me out of her sight. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her blackguard everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my costless time with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more rum tendencies.
She had an wide shoe collection, most of which were high bounder. She loved wearing cad so a great deal that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the home, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to postulate something inside her rima oris. When we went out to eat, she couldn't deglutition anything without a straw. If she was sitting at home grading document, she'd sit there for 60 minutes sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football game every Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about summercater. She just enjoyed wearing her fit Jersey and a couplet of leotards, rooting for whichever team had the cutest quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would angle down, pout her lip together and gently blow until it was gone. The tactile sensation excited me so much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the metre I finished luxuriously school, I was so used to being by my mother's slope that leaving for college to a lesser extent than an time of day away filled me with highly assorted emotions due to all the nonplus memories left behind.
By my 3rd year at Ralph Waldo Emerson, the trinket of living away from abode had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more lonesome and homesick, with no girlfriend and only a few male protagonist to aid kill the boredom.
One dreary afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blueing, with the radical idea of finding a new flat for us to populate together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with long, flowing, chestnut Brown haircloth, hazel eyes, 2-dimensional nerve and underweight lips set between her oval chin and the down tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her glory mean solar day of eminent school gymnastic exercise, where she'd collected multiple trophy, mostly for Libra the Scales beam. Still, she kept her body in fantastic bod, wearing trendy outfits that proudly displayed her pert titty, tight ass, and best of all, her long, head-turning leg.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal opinion, my mother was the hottest woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a full blown compulsion. I tried my outflank to go along her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the twelvemonth, she started to concern that I seemed to have no pursuit in early miss.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the persuasion of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, pudgy apartment. My roommate was a tot slob. Yet, in spite of the headaches, and as a lot as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and constituent of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to spend my junior year getting hammered every night and screwing as many co-eds as possible. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the Lapp skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a leaning to fidget and make awkward jokes around little girl my own age, to the point where even the ugly ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favorite pictures of her on my cell phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum faster than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as long as I could remember I had always been captivated by my mother's legs. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up event planning to learn merchandising at a nearby community college where the women on stave often wore pantyhose under their bird. By that metre, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many age. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this basic element of her daily clientele attire distinctly brought out the remarkable mantrap and dimension of her yearn, sinuous legs.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that time, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to interrogate why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first place. As 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 extraordinary major power luring my middle to loaf over the lithesome tone of her run, slender calves, moving up to the meaty flesh of her business firm sculpted thighs, where her retentive, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her rose hip, topped by a set of luscious rhythm asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering thread 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 neural impulse to reckon down and gaze over the blinding aura emanating from her ramification. From the bottom of all her short doll, down to the bakshish of her toes, each pair she wore had the business leader to transport me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a one day went by where I wasn't sitting at home waiting for her to walk in and sound off off her sexy hound. My dreamy eyes followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the warm glow of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The farsighted I stared, the more I became desperate to feed my growing obsession at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't unusual for me to pull out my television camera and get her to pose for me out in public. She'd always been the type of mother who gladly encouraged any sideline I developed, especially my growing interest in photography. Eventually, I managed to collect dozen of pictures, all of which focused on her retentive, gorgeous legs. I was sealed she never suspected what I actually did with her video after she went to bed, considering I was so youth, not to cite being her son.
My deary characterisation for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her pegleg. Before educational activity, working in corporate America had given her many old age to develop this particular acquisition. As a discipline master, she was far too elegant to take one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her promontory up and her perky chest pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, drag her hired man under her skirt, then with full moon extension, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silklike base, the lush contours visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly smooth motion, seamlessly merging her business firm shapely calves in deliciously perfect alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the early, sweeping against the grain, a thrilling sound that instantly made my dick pounding hearing that pernicious swish.
oceanic abyss down, I knew it was incorrect. Still, I often tried to win over myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the hottest womanhood on globe. Her part alone sent frisson down my spur, with the everlasting phrasing and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly surefooted educator, with only the slightest touch of a typical New England stress.
Despite being over forty, her nutritious diet and favorable demeanor gave her a youthful glow. She barely ate more than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every morning. While it was clearly a convinced thing, her level-headed lifestyle only encouraged my physical drawing card to proceed construction and become more powerful each day.
Her bra sizing was an norm 34-B. Yet, her pocket-size chest proudly stood out in contrast with her petite waistline, jutting from the flimsy material of her loaded blouses and decollete tops.
Despite being a hard-working 1 mom, I had to imagine she still had needs. Yet, to my circumscribe knowledge, after the divorcement, she had no men in her life. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so a great deal metre worrying if I was getting laid, she might have had time to date. She should take had go lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might deliver been somewhat biased by my own forbidden calf love and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cellular phone number flashed up across the cover. The timing was frightful as I'd just settled on one of her unspoiled pictures, taken in times Square. She had on this beautiful, wine blouse, with a dark miniskirt, black pumps, and a radiant twosome of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the picture just as Mom walked over to pose following to a tall New York streetlight. It was like she could register my intellection as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her nerve was only half seeable under her long hair, as she leaned forward and pressed her os frontale against the hoary magnetic pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her pull up stakes knee behind her back. She stood there holding the affectedness for respective arcsecond, with one shoe playfully lifted off the ground and a smile on her face as bright as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the phone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained auditory sense had failed to detect the noisy jingle of belt, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something of import I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her interpreter that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the last five minutes drooling over her sexy photos. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her chest of drawers on my last trip home. She had over a twelve. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't bill if I only took one. My cock was already throbbing. All I could reckon about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hand, then taking my slick digit and wrapping them gently around my prick. Naturally, the Sir Thomas More she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My rental is up in two calendar month,"she said."I just got a alphabetic character that my rent is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can yield that."
"Okay,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not okay,"she said."I'm going to have to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd feel if I moved up to Boston."
At that detail moment, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so good around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without cerebration, just for the chance to be up fill up and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not for sure what else I can do."
Again, my brain drifted off. I lied there trying to imagine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random motion hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's lounge,"she said."I'm on my lunch break. Why ?"
"No cause,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her wooden leg crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one skid off her foot, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's fine,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that arrive at things easier ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the real reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been dotty 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 moment to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the smooth velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely centre. I was too officious wondering what her free hand was doing as she sat there with one hired man holding the telephone. Was she gently rubbing her fingerbreadth over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many times at base ? Was she dipping one base in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to know for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's lounge, in broad opinion of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old metre. I can always find work at another campus. Plus we can find a situation with More infinite for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to verbalize to Jimmy about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail bond on my roommate, even if our lease was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some ground ruler,"I added, when I started to realize the freedom I'd be giving up purely to see her branch every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to take a leak the dominion now, huh ? O.K.. Like what ?"
"zilch major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll respect each former's secrecy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys home or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your beginner. You won't have to worry about that."
My musical rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was mean, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, Sir Thomas More delicate friction to my teasing hand separatrix.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each other's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you space to smoke weed and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's nothing you can obscure from me."
"Mom, what the hell,"I said, voicing my annoyance."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her word carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a little bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very handsome. It doesn't make mother wit that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's mountain of real adult female out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Redeemer, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit aflutter."I never knew you had such a affair for honest-to-god women,"she continued."Maybe I should enter you to some of the teacher here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my reckoner behind my binding, by then my capitulum was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the subject to something more stimulating."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a second, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The lift in her voice told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must ingest been reading my brain,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had naught but compliments all day. It was nice telling everyone my son picked them out."
"sang-froid,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't wait to see how they look."
"Well, you're in luck,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to look at place in the sunrise. You should issue forth with me."
"Mmm, I'd love to hail,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be sang-froid tomorrow. You might desire to tire out something warm."
"Oh, I'll be ok,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my blue jean. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a pair,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your dungaree,"I repeated, resisting the urge to moan."I dead reckoning that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Oh, it's fine,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute or so before I exploded all over my handwriting."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just make trusted you tell Jimmy to wear some gasp this time. It's a fiddling awkward seeing your roomie with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a demon."But then again, you can't really blame him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was pattern length. The skirt I'm wearing today is short than that."
"Well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you hold open your pupil from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's kind of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"closure it, Mom. You look groovy. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any former woman. We all like to get word 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 polar moment. In 19 years, my mother had never asked me a head as directly sexual as that. My chunk were practically about to burst. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my affected desire to run my hired hand over her soft silky pantyhose and cum all over her aphrodisiac legs. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an answer intended to veil my lawful feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to shoot a weird good turn. 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 nerve I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same fourth dimension."Seriously, I want to have it off,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive irruption."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the ones you look at on those cheating websites ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't William Tell whether she wanted the true statement, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should speak about this anymore."
"okay, mulct,"she said."I wasn't trying to throw you uncomfortable. Just order me one thing. Which part of a woman's eubstance do you like well-nigh ? Wait, let me reckon, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My best option was to push back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we drop it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't stop there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so grueling 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, check it. I can't take this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this whole melodic theme. It's bad enough you can't find a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you experience even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the stopping point metre,"I said, starting to lose it."If I really wanted a lady friend, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one infantry in the grave ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetish I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the time. I certainly don't want you having sexual thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to differentiate you how inappropriate that would be."
Of course she didn't. I'd known all along how inappropriate it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't attention. By then, I was pummeling my rooster with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to gazump every ribbon with a monolithic wad of thickset sebaceous mettle, purely out of spitefulness.
I closed my heart, instantly reliving the indelible memories that triggered my fetish in the first piazza.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the star sign wearing vapourous pantyhose with no wench on. I could see her returning from workplace in her blackened fuck-me ticker, the moth-eaten smell of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swollen feet. I could even envision the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hips switching from side to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the sound of her spiked blackguard clicking on the pavement, only to come home, peel off her pantyhose and carelessly thrash them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my clapper over the wet maculation, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My lurid memories pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my itch to moan, watching cat valium of semen blast into the air, surging from the head of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hand, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no theme what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my rash act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to garner myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"face Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being true. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important decision, I think you should tell me everything. Tell me the truth, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one hired hand, by saying no, she'd most likely signified that I was lying, which would only make her angry and potentially botch any luck of us moving back in together. On the other hand, telling the verity would most likely freak her out so often that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even worse.
Normally, in situation like this, where I wasn't exactly sure what to do, the first thing I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the best way to do her motion was to rick it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to redirect."But first I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short breath."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your head. I think if we're going to go together, then you have to promise to find a girlfriend and start living in the material world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"Good,"she said."I'll see you in the dawn. And don't forget to impart back my pantyhose."
* * *
The succeeding good morning, Mom showed up right on docket, in a form-fitting, calamitous, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her firstly initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver necklace which failed to keep me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her plunging neckline. Her bluing skinny blue jean sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every curvature under skin-tight denim, leading down, just as promised, to her stigma new, high-heeled, Shirley Temple Black leather sandals, with sparse straps spanning over her raw feet.
Looking down at the cuff of her jean, the first thing I noticed was the agitate absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole night tossing and turn in expectation of seeing them the next morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how concerned she was talking about my voodoo. So the last thing I wanted to do was call any undue attention to it decent away.
We stood there enjoying a ardent hug, when my roomy, Jimmy, promptly emerged from his elbow room. The grin on his face told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a civilized handshake. For a few mo, she and jimmy stood there making small talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak to me in my room.
I led her back to my bedchamber and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her final duet of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the twain I'd taken from her dresser. So I promptly fished them from the plenty of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would open her a moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must hold been hurrying too much to see that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow sally, knowing it was wrong, yet still unable to tear my eyes from watching her undress.
With her back turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one skid at a time, enjoying the cover girl sight of denim smothering her crocked round buns. I then heard the speech sound as she yanked down her zipper, then continued watching as her hands went up to her side. She hooked her thumbs into the narrow waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips English to side. I fully expected to see panties, or at least a G-string, resisting the urge to heave as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her naked ass. My peter instantly started to well. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a assoil panorama of her outer cunt lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that Jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my incredible fortune was too undecomposed to give-up the ghost up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewellery from her fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her nimble digit rolled up the first leg. She then lifted her left foot, then reached down and slid the mob of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slid the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended genu. She set down her left pes, then steadily raised the former, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right foot inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon inch by column inch over her supple thighs, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely articulatio coxae under the straining waistband, making one final exam adjustment to line up the stitching along her narrow edge scissure, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a wondrous layer of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a distich of half-moons.
I could have stood there watching forever, but my instinct told me to leave office while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the living way to find jimmy rolling a marijuana cigarette, which I'd come to expect as part of his morn routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a foresighted talk where I'd delicately broken the newsworthiness to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, Jimmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to go in with his girlfriend in a few workweek anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard feelings between us, especially when I stopped to study who my new roommate was soon to be.
Moments later, my lovely mother finally returned from my way, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the deal of pantyhose covering her middling base. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her view. We left my flat and set out to incur our new stead, quickly escaping so Mom could quash 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 roulette wheel and turned on the local anaesthetic mid-eighties station. The song on the tuner thankfully managed to calm my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic lyrics.
"Every short matter she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the adjacent couple of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, mo floor walk-up, on a tranquillise, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The house was owned by a young, newlywed couple named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first floor. Joel was a successful contractor in the metropolis. Cynthia was a old nurse turned homebody mom who'd recently given birth to their first child. Looking at Artemis, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a child, judging by the size of it of her enormous breast which seemed to account for nearly half her consistency weight, especially considering how short she was. If I had to hazard, I would stimulate said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big tits !"
Compared to Mom, Artemis was easily three or four in shorter, as I stood at Mom's side and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the like high school as my female parent, only eight geezerhood later.
Artemis led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our oculus. The place had literally everything we wanted, highschool roof, hardwood floor, with tons of infinite, including a large eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and living room surface area, divided by sliding double doorway. On the rightfulness was a small role, a small client lav, then the kitchen, followed by a small memory board space, with a doorway to the cover porch, and stairs leading up to the noggin. The noggin had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two sleeping room, and a large passe-partout bath.
Mom and I signed the term of a contract in a matter of twenty-four hour period, agreeing to move in by October 1st.
The move itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired removal firm to handle all the big article of furniture. Then, on Sunday the thirtieth, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hr. Sometime around noon, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no food. I offered to start unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the hand truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and start removing the item inside. It was mostly packed with old Scripture and photo record album, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound diary which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty room and quietly cracked open the first page.
The first launching was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six months after my parents'divorce.
The initiative few submission weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old selling house she'd worked at during her man and wife. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks notice. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was someone more traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much happier with his new trophy wife. So there really was nothing else for Mom to do except go on.
I read through the first five or six pages, when matter started to cull up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something weirdo happened today. I made out with Mike Anne Mansfield Sullivan in the stairwell over by his government agency. I'm not even for certain why I did it. He's almost 10 twelvemonth younger than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't stop flirt 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 travel the copier outside his office. I love how he always comes over and deteriorate his pen on the level. It used to pee me uncomfortable, but now I just take on along. At foremost, he would drop it and pick it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my wooden leg for a while. It's pretty funny to watch. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the Sami matter. He must really like my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The utmost affair I want to do is stymie him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about microphone. Kelly and Robin are throwing a goodbye party for me tomorrow Nox. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His dick got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the women in the place. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollar sign on a trade name new company dress and that son of a bitch didn't even show up. Oh well, his release I guess. God knows there were spate of other guy cable there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again next week. It was kind of odd being the gist of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know robin was pretty jealous. I told her to end purchasing me shaft. Besides, no one puts exotic dancer poles in a bar full of drunken fair sex expecting nobody to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussy for everyone. I did get into pantyhose. I'm trusted microphone would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his rooster. I really need to get fucked. I should probably endow in a good vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would ascertain it. He's always sneaking into my room. I'm not sure what he's looking for. I hope he's not going through my panty drawer. I'm sure he's learned how to masturbate by now. The last thing I want to find is a huge cum grunge on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some pointedness I'll have a talk with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really wish his father were here…
I would have kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the way. I headed back downstairs trying to serve all the turn thoughts scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to enjoy getting tending from younger men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thinking of Mom willingly behaving like a loose woman really got me excited. I stepped out onto the rearwards porch, where I lit up a fag, trying to chill out myself down.
The view from the hind porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the curtains were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the turning point of the room, I spotted an vacate rocking hot seat, next to what looked like the railings on a baby's crib. I flicked my fag, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the baby in her branch. Even from such a high angle, it was virtually impossible to look down and see anything other than her humongous teat. The epitome reminded me of those IMAX movies where they show you the worldly concern from blank space and you can still see the Himalaya Mountains only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't avail smiling at the light wild blue yonder push up sweater she was wearing. The fabric was stretched out so a lot it looked like she bought it from child Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already hornlike as fuck, as I watched Cynthia reach out up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her remaining breast floating-point operation through the opening of her jumper, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's lip over her swollen mamilla. My whole aliveness I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and forth. I've always preferred branch, but there was no denying the ravisher of Cynthia's phenomenal jug. The size of her chest reminded me of my twenty-four hours back at the pizza pie store, where we laid out the dough until it rose into soft, round, flesh-colored mounds. The longer I watched, the More I found myself jealous of her piddling boy and the blissful feel on his case as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my peter couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the forepart room access. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back interior.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a short, ling gray, New England Patriots T-shirt, with Joseph Black spandex yoga bloomers, and a distich of brown fur-lined boots. Her fuzz was tied back in a ponytail, with no war paint, yet I still wanted to twist her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get a good deal done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a sess. Figured I'd hold 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 junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one president in the kitchen. The residue were all stacked in the dining room.
"goodness doubt,"she said."Why don't you sit here ? If I get tired of standing, I can always sit on your lap."
Assuming she was just kidding, I grabbed my sandwich and took a seat, while Mom leaned against the counter and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the death chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her legs stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would let answered, if only she hadn't chosen that accurate moment to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her face instantly told me she could feel how hard I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this tortured look on her face like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this cold, distant look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the speech sound call over again. Only this time, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the cheek. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my point. I wanted to say something, but all I could sharpen on was the smoothness of her leging as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.
Intended for yoga, the leging felt more like velvety tights, not swerve like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the tactual sensation. On the plus side, the fabric was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her arms in front of her.
"Maybe you should narrate me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to confront her, I lifted my sweaty medal and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her head."Look, I understand that you're Young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the household like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that easy. It takes time."
"Okay, maybe you're rightfield,"she said."So in the interim, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just give birth 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 coherent thing to do in that situation would get probably been to stand up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to lay down light of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was willing to have a horse sense of body fluid about the whole thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just trounce it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her foreland back, weapon system folded as she glared at me through the peg down slits of her eyes.
"You haven't got the glob to try anything like that."
Her reaction hit me like a puncher in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been unspoilt at mutant. In school, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in year. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too chicken to oppose back. I'd been putting up with yobbo for as prospicient as I could think back. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zip, reached in and promptly pulled out my shaft.
"Okay, sentence out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your tool back in your pants, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't sentry ?"she said, raising an supercilium, with a meek laugh and an obvious smirk on her facial expression."So you just expect me to brush off you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is normal ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her principal to her chest, before wearily rubbing her brow. After a brief moment, she slowly raised her top dog up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered."mulct, do what you want. I can't occlusive you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would have been easy to block off rightfield there. I could cause easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in front line of me. She wasn't a smoking compartment and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own rule about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a distance for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my tool harder as she gracefully crossed her stage in pitch blackness spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a pull of smoke."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any understanding, yet I still felt compelled to excuse why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my deal's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a irregular, startling me as she sprang up, with coffin nail in hand, as she marched back over toward the riposte. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a lowly plastic bottleful. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chairperson where I was sitting. Bottle in paw, she leaned over the drumhead of my putz, squirting out a generous glob of creamy application, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"volition that help ?"she said, with a grin on her font which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the drumhead, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all sides, enabling me to enjoy the flavor of my own slippery helping hand, rising and falling around my set shaft, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would meditate my technique, imagining one day to feel her hand instead of my own. The feeling on her grimace lacked any form of expression, as if to foreclose me from noticing any mansion of interest group in her common cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to fight this even further."You could turn around and record me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and evince 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 power, prompted the increased calendar method of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I bet 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 column inch from my side.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the peck of her black leg covering stretched taut over the curve of her business firm shapely tail. She kept her feet together, accentuating the slope where the little of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight material, so amazingly round and full, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, deluxe bubble.
"I'm gladiolus you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any More orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my breath."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to fend up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my mother to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index fingerbreadth, directing me to tolerate in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden seat, keeping her legs together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her tight gluteus,"right here, all over your female parent's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then express me,"she said."show me how horny you are right now. Let me finger it. Let me find that hot load all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the sound of her voice nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my female parent was even adequate to of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to jerk off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga bloomers ?
I should take in accepted it for the exclusive right that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock smack up against her butt, a forceful collision softened by the leg covering and the meaty flesh underneath, the perfect shock for my throbbing penis to grind against her smooth, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified shrieking, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal protestation as I violently started thrusting my articulatio coxae back and Forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stoppage ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of path, 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 tool. Her vocalisation was raspy and out of breath, with her head forward, pilus swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so hard. Oh my God, don't catch. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum truelove. Please let me palpate your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk come gushing out of my cock like a broken water main. The effect of each spasm was so wild that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My brass was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering sensation of her soft cheeks pressed up against my prick milked out the remaining cum flowing from my aching formal.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my foot, the mordant leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick layer of blanched creamy foam, rolling down the total darkness spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the crack of her moist puss.
Covered in sudor, I quietly zipped up, lost for Book as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go alteration,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a irregular, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her finger's breadth through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good idea,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the following ten hour, okay ?"
* * *
For the sleep of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as often clock time to action what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking most of our things. Mom spent most of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the living room hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some friends from school who were hanging out business district. By the time I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an vacuous house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely enough fourth dimension to grab a quick shower, throw on some dress and backwash off to get to my morning social class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to occupy that my foolish activity had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the concern of Mom telling me to locomote out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into quad, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the view of going home, certain of what was destined to come.
My concluding category ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two ounce of wild blue yonder dream. So I figured the best thing to do was go home, smoke a pipe bowl and have a distich beers, just to prepare myself for the foul climate my female parent was sure to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the household, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her way and luckily found it in the same box where I'd left it, right at the metrical foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few Thomas Nelson 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 commencement, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to cut it rather than causing a prospect. He was well dressed for a immature guy with a squeamish business concern suit like he could let been a lawyer or something. I needed some java so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my seat, which ended up facing him directly. From the here and now I sat down, I could instantly find him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could have got up and institute another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and observe my ramification crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd film the tinge and go away. He must accept thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the Thomas More I realized how nervous he was to approach me. I was kind of affront, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not give him one just to bang with his psyche. When he looked over again, I picked up my java, turned my hip joint toward him, and slowly uncross my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them outdoors to show him the black lash I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my peg back and Forth River. Each time, I held my legs clear for a endorsement, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to follow me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a great deal on a black pair of jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a dainty glossy polish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my black thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my leg as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert maintain me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my legs open and my skirt up around hips, working my feet into the brake shoe. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play barren with his back turned. At that point, I probably should deliver confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the skid and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the way out and turned around to see if he was still behind me. for sure enough, he walked out with a smile on his face like he hadn't done anything wrong. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could serve with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful legs. I asked if he got off peeking up women's bird. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a twat or maybe he could receive seen more. He offered to take me out for a boozing to see if he could convert my opinion. He looked a niggling angry when I turned him down, making the fault of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly undid my blouse, then told him to take out his cock. He looked around for a secondly. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my thenar, taking his cock in one hand, while using the former to slowly pull up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clitoris, while using the other to stroke his turncock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a exclusive word…
The passage ended there, but the rousing result lingered in my vivid imagination longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without question my first clear grounds that the woman who raised me and handed down all of my lesson was bequeath to operate in extreme, speculative, sexual behavior with seemingly any young man with a dick. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and flavor of pantyhose that clearly brought out her intimate slattern, 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 slope, determined to see how far she was uncoerced to go to fulfil her recondite sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the pipe bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard step coming up the stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my head teacher, as I walked toward the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his dick belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the doorway and saw Artemis standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a burnished orange tree satin nightie.
"Good morning,"she said, over a abstruse yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a gravel look, as I glanced down at her fuzzy rap slippers."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would possess come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's cool. Come on in,"I said, pulling the door open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a pull myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focalize on her face."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a inclination of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, bathroom cesspool, and one of the light switches in the attic."
"No worry,"she said."Smoke alarm system probably needs a new barrage fire. If the visible radiation transposition isn't working, I'll have to secernate Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the animation room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had poor blonde hair, in one of those voguish bob-style haircuts, parted on the leftfield, creating a lovely bod for the fullness of her rung, chubby face. Knowing how critical some women are, she might throw described herself as overweight. In my legal opinion, the spear carrier baby weight just made her calculate more juicy. Her hips were fairly wide of the mark, yet her stomach was still pretty flat, with a span of incredibly huge breast, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a slight under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and knack over beside the radiator.
From that Angle, as she leaned over to watch the valves, there was no polite way to maintain myself from staring down at her giant hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Artemis's titmouse reminded me of those grueling bags down at the gym, two of them, side to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the way did wonders for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orange tree satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half nude, I did my beneficial to relieve her horse sense of urging, hoping not to stymie her.
"You could bear waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave oeuvre until five or six. She's more sore to the frigidness than I am. My old flat was a lot worse. Not to note, we trust you."
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first tenants since we bought this place…hate to start off on the wrong foot,"she added."The radiator seems alright, must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's form of clueless, so I need to get back and ensure on the baby. I can fix it right after that."
"audio good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and check out the sink too. I just need to put on some real clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be in force to wear down a little more next time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightgown had helplessly slipped down."I know the missy can be a lilliputian distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless effort to hatch up, making her tit sum jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to keep my eyeballs inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in front of the office, pointing to the photographic camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the lensman ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a rocking horse. When I was untried, I had this dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or man-about-town,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's cool,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up trend. 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 struck me as more…I don't know, buttoned-down, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a Mitt Romney bumper thorn, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"wellspring, no,"I said stuttering like a saphead.
The more she spoke, the more than Cynthia reminded of the lady friend I knew back in high school, the unity who'd been spoiled since birth and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy temperament, suitable in this case considering her plentiful bosom.
"William Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our second anniversary. I wasn't for sure what to get Joel as a natural endowment, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some nice jinx shooter, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our human relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how afford she was about her marriage. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle dalliance of this desperate woman of the house or the rapidly growing hard-on in my bloomers.
"Umm, surely, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to hash out wardrobe and train some test shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the bureau, where she leaned up against the rampart and slowly proceeded to peel down the right strap of her nightie, letting it lessen off her shoulder.
"Will the brightness in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the flash bulb,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the moment the television camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so practically confidence in front of the lens of the eye. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just instant earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering minx, with two perfectly pouting mouth and a virulent come-hither stare, enhancing the perk up impression of her steamy profane eyes. Yet, the sultry flavor on her brass, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the second she crossed her blazon together, thrusting her tits toward the television camera like treble airbags, completely filling up the physical body with Sir Thomas More segmentation than my nous could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through respective affectedness, when I mildly requested that we step over across the vestibule. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the helping hand, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need much instruction as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her head tilted back, and her chest of drawers pointed up toward the ceiling.
"judgment if I ask you a personal question,"I asked, as she shifted over to her bequeath incline, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to fuck how big they are."
"Well, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be diminished before I got pregnant. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they hurt your back ?"
"All the fourth dimension,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two gallons of Milk strapped to your dresser. It form of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your teat ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Artemis nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use formula, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My breast Milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than steady Milk. I try to eat lots of fruit to make it sweeter. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."Well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these pictures and see which angles piece of work best. Let me know when you have time for a full photo shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need time to recall about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The composure in her articulation combined with her level gaze gave me a lightheaded feeling as I set down the camera, then pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed things couldn't possibly get weirder, this charwoman I barely knew was offering to let me try her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the present moment I saw her, my first urge was to bury my boldness between her chest and powerboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her go out loud. Still, there must suffer been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little curious.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her good hired man slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left shoulder shoulder strap. fret astragal formed across my eyebrow as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the other. My eyes concentrated mainly on the orange tree satin covering her monumental dresser, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her custody to patiently alleviate down the bright fabric. Finally, with a stumblebum in my throat, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull out her enormous jugs.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't fathom how a woman so minor could end up with bosom that big. Each one was tumid than my head and must throw weighed at to the lowest degree ten Irish pound, as I sat there entranced by the size and configuration of these two gigantic globes, hovering inches from my case. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely tranquil, with stretchability bull's eye along both incline of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's tits were far too heavy to escape the effects of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the cushy tissue really started to jiggle.
Needless to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her tits out for all their glory, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to roll in the hay how proud she was of her huge 38FFs.
session in the chairperson, my eyes were level with her pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her dark areolas, no wider than a distich of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked fingerbreadth, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your sass on it,"she said."Just sit back, out-of-doors wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed rules of order, leaning my psyche back, then parting my brim capable and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her quarter round and forefinger on each slope of her right nipple. Then, using illumine imperativeness, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The low sparge squirted from her mamilla like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was staring, pointing her tit directly in figurehead of my mouth. I instantly closed my center, compelled by the need to burn this import deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to vivify something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, lemony liquid state filling my open mouth magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me time to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouth. My eyes opened just in sentence to see her lifting her former breast, which soon began streaming milk over my glossa as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the warm nectar, letting the feeling seep into every corner of my backtalk, tingling my taste buds, as the world around me faded into a distant fuzz.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best matter I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's angelic,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your helper with the pictures. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk of the town again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my practiced to appear nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more free than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the urine just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you find about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us wear them all the time at the hospital. You know, like those slimy blanched compression hose. It makes me rub just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter whang ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a aphrodisiac nursemaid's outfit, with bloodless heels and glossy tweed hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just induce me look good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a job,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a legal brief hug and a soft kiss on the cheek, as I closed the door, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the prison term Cynthia left, I felt like a total living dead. My dick was so strong I could barely take the air, like all the blood in the rest period of my body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing genitals. I desperately needed some character of button, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to find Mom's diary once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passageway. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the frigid air, as I picked up the diary and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and interpret the appointment of her latest entry. My thorax heaved the moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut intuitive feeling that something inside her wanted it to happen too. In my thinker, the possibleness was so tantalizing that the forbidden agitation of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that point, I wanted a way to reach the moment even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a low temperature way. Or maybe it was just my natural instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled open my female parent's top draftsman.
I opened it to find a grand mint of highschool quality women's hose, in a hoi polloi of colors, patterns and thickness tier. I studied the passel, breathing heavily over the bounteousness of nylon unmentionable spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose buffet. I rummaged through the flock, searching until my hands came across a feathering light duad of silky, midnight bleak pantyhose brush against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my jean and underclothes, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking instructions from the storage of watching Mom put them on under her blue jean. With the pantyhose drawn up over my human knee, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my putz and balls. My pecker stood up like a flag rod as I stretched the touchy threading to its point of accumulation, drawing the waistcloth several inches away from my navel while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my stomach. That first mo of total encasement from the waist down filled my whole body with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own fluent pegleg took me to a stage of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the cloth, making me palpate right at home.
Ready to get going reading, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my female parent letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her knocker, and the crazy anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my cargo as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The chroma running through me, combined with the lingering impression of the smoke, sent me into a surreal land as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting different lately. I love him to death and I can't service flavor responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting elderly and he's basically big enough to make his own decisiveness. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendencies that are far too life-threatening to command. I was able to expect past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even brush aside all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this bizarre obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animal. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not trusted why I said those things. It's hard to even stomach the thought process of letting him degrade me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my living, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own shape and roue. What kind of female parent would I be to let him mean what he did was okey ? It doesn't matter how much I enjoyed it. There's zero wrong with enjoying the spirit of someone finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to root for it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a length it was a moderately decently size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was individual I could talk to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him detect someone, just to get his judgement on something else ? God, this is disturbed. 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 command myself better that he can. pretend we'll just have to expect and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my centre, letting her Holy Writ replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the phone of Florida key jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was tail preceding five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my room with no time to read off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a twosome of socks, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as calm air as I could.
"You're family early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a smokestack of junk ring armor, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning case forward with a nimble smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather prissy in her stylish gray occupation lawsuit. The color was a footling drab, but the cut was extremely blandish, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off rectify above mid-thigh, leaving more than enough leg on display where I could briefly pause to stare over the neutral color of the sheer whitish pantyhose stretching down to her white leather ticker.
"Sorry, probably smoked too much,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner ?"
"fountainhead,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to discharge the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new place, I went out and got stuff to make shepherd's pie."
The serve up Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with onion plant, Daucus carota sativa, reason lamb or squawk, topped by a layer of creamy mashed Irish potato. It was also an inside joke among our category.
Shepherd was the name Mom took when she got get hitched with, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her last name would still be the same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and other exceptional occasions.
"assuredness,"I said."Shall I break out the unspoiled Taiwan ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your Church Father and I had the same thing for dinner when we moved into our first place. I figured since you're the new man of the mansion, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty good. For a second, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that morning, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got rest home. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would receive said something right then, but the smile on her human face was so exposed and full of heart that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the elbow room. In that consequence, I could only assume that Mom had made the determination to move on like nix had ever happened. So instead of confronting the subject head on, I did my best to discount the latent hostility between us, though it wasn't well-situated, especially when I could still find her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my cervix. Her perfume smelled like mint confect as her hazelnut eyes cut right-hand through me. Her retentive, brace gaze calmed me to the power point where the panic inside me gradually started to fleet away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not certain,"I said,"just been a foreign yoke 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 warmth of her intimation. Then she softly kissed me on the back talk. 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 feel my hard-on against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how much I missed you all this fourth dimension. It means so much that you're willing to give up your freedom to live with your crazy, old mom. I want you to roll in the hay 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 toilsome as I could. The scintillation her in eye gave me the feeling she might not rip away, as I boldly prepared to incline in and push my lip firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a moment, quickly blinking, trying to collect my thoughts. In hindsight, perhaps I should suffer lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a balmy grin on my font, as I calmly proceeded to excuse how Cynthia had stopped by earlier, noticed the tv camera in the office and thought it would be cool to pay Joel some sexy photograph 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 spooky about it,"she said, quirking her head to the side of meat."Are you certainly she just wanted motion-picture show, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her organic structure felt like she was bracing for a John R. Major shock. Her eyes stared intently as she quietly held her breath.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the topic of breast Milk River. At first, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my solution the moment I turned away. Before I could stop her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those pictures before Joel hears about this,"she said."The last matter we need is a reason for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining way, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the pictures one at a time.
I could hear the harm in her vocalism as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's aught,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a living. It's just a way to take up my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the berm. The hair falling over her expression made it hard to see her verbalism, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulders, trying to console her.
Finally, with rip welling in her eyes, she looked back, vocalism trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with more Passion of Christ than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my natural language, returning my lust-filled detonation with the Saami intense urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how long. Our hands roamed everywhere, groping each former's physical structure in a waste frenzy. The wonderful grain as I ran my fingers through her silklike brown pilus, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my turncock, stirred me to pass on down and shove both paw under her skirt, running my mitt over her skin-tight pantyhose with no excuse, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingers over every inch of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple cheeks yielding to the air pressure of my clenching finger's breadth, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy buttocks through a thin layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to stop her, knowing the hole-and-corner inside my dungaree. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to get to down and take hold of her by the radiocarpal joint. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my fingerbreadth, helpless to stop my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered hip joint and thighs, as she urgently reached through my open zipper, trying in vain to feel my cock, only to be blocked by a duet 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 consequence of silent acknowledgment passed between us, where placing her hired hand against the smooth, dark fibers of the pantyhose hidden inside my dungaree opened a portal leading to the shadower of forbidden sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her fingers over the outline of my bulging scape. I could hardly believe my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her manus slowly begin rubbing and squeezing my erection through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."well, how does it experience ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her touchy touch, with her fingers gliding over the rooftree of my stiff, pulsating shaft, ignitor as a feather, never stopping to wait up, focusing intently on every vellication, as if learning my weak spots, while brushing the tips of her finger against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the tone of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying whiz, letting the pleasure absorb through my genitals, spreading through every jail cell of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little sloshed, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my rooster, slowly moving down to my aching Lucille Ball. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a little restraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do have to say one thing. I can't traverse my flavour any more than you can. So I'm willing to let us play with each other but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that have in mind ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just occupy this one footstep at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my fetish is good enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."
With her white heels still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my beam of light, bending her articulatio genus and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating gesture, as if purposely trying to increase the detrition, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from fundament, forcing our bodies to commingle together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the effect she was having on me.
"Best touch in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm sure I can convince you otherwise. Tell me what else you like."
"I like looking at you,"I answered sincerely.
She liked hearing that, smiling brilliantly, with a dazzling flip of her hair's-breadth, as I watched her quietly ill-use 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 oculus settled where the jut of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zip fastener. With one hand on each side of her skirt, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the floor, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her fag. The nylon control top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even blanched than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a dependable Angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond sound,"I said, shaking my head.
"hire a picture, it'll finale thirster,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to foot up the tv camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my best to keep my work force steady, fighting through trembling nerves.
I shifted the lens vertically, wanting to capture the full extension of her peg, ensuring her heels were visible in the frame. My excitement was so overwhelming I could barely maintain my concentration. The embodiment of all my fantasies stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard physical evidence straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her clear-cut delectation of our proscribe foreplay by the seductive manner in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking characterisation as she leaned all the way over, laying her breast across the table. Her prone attitude beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the run muscles of her legs seemed to stretch even more.
From there, she returned to an upright lieu, turning to look the window. She noticed a president inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the bum. She flipped her haircloth, striking another pose, letting her sport jacket slide down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the movement of her hand rubbing back and Forth against her leg. She seemed to love feeling the cloth against her skin, caressing the nylon with such heart that I suddenly became tope 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 breast, combined with an underwire to crowd out the alluring voluminousness of her bust, setting her tits high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was role of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut flip-flop of the same lacy framework and colour. She didn't wait long to change into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the camera and focused on the Patrick Victor Martindale White cad dangling from her leave alone foot.
Finally, with her brake shoe still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her heel pointed toward the cap. I watched as she crooked her brain to the rightfield, snapping another picture with her ramification elevated and the face of her face peeking back at me with the naughtiest smiling I'd ever seen.
I asked for one Sir Thomas More and she happily complied by spreading her wooden leg in a"V"formation, where she reached down and placed her left helping hand over the cotton wool panel between her ramification. I held up the television camera for one final pose, framing the net crack so her face was centered between her undefendable legs, as she scrunched her eyeball together, parted her back talk, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an expression of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so compelling that I instantly tore off everything including my socks. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open arms. Our lips melted together as I rushed my men down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her legs wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck opening, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me adequate room to reach up and fondle her boob. She let out a moan as my fingers made physical contact with her swell up mamilla, rolling and pinching them as I watched her heart roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my member was begging for release. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was will to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on prostrate up against her butt. She leaned back, keeping our steaming mouths bonded together, swirling her lingua against mine.
Keeping one hand firmly attached to her breasts, I took the early and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my digit inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her cunt with my in-between finger. Her lips parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical condition of her arousal. Her pelvic arch slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my digit and lightly proceeded to rub her clitoris.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her hale consistence started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to shake off even more. For once in my animation, I was actually in control, using my fingers to wreak Mom's pussy into a frothing fret.
"Are you cook to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flame 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 nil but a long, brace moan. Her face grimaced as her back talk flung give, moaning and wailing through trigger-happy tremor vibrating against my cock. Her heaving intimation gradually became more normal as the smell of her ardent succus permeated the way with the musky scent of her sex.
Swept by the electric current of forbidden lecherousness, we hastily made our way toward the keep room. Mom led the way, taking me by the mitt as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the shock. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my tool.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my barb fully engorged under stiff, 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 balls, aiding the flow of watery liquid as her hand continued its journeying along my gibe. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my penis feel the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling her warm intimation around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a sponge. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to graze the tip of her tongue along the veiny ridgeline, patiently licking it all over, bathing my tool with spit.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my cock, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her tongue to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her face as she quietly jerked me off. Her middle widened as the barb extended under her skillful use. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more affiliated to her that it was to me.
I had learned my 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 bear put clothes stick on my teat and that would throw been mulct. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch, swinging her pegleg up to rest them against my groin. Bending her knees, she nestled both feet around my putz, placing the shaft of light between her delicate sole, 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 tactile sensation of her human foot covered in nylon sweeping up and down my cock or just the idea that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't know how I was able-bodied to keep myself from nutting all over her groundwork right hand then and there.
"That's a in force boy. Let mammy yank you off with her human foot,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too meddlesome trying not to cum. I wanted to hold out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
Using her solid leg muscles with persistence, she continued pumping her feet up and down my prick until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the lounge. She climbed up over my shoulder joint, straddled my head and lowered her crotch smooch down against my cheek.
She must have intended to tone down my moan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed to the highest degree of it straight down her throat. With one hand around it, her read/write head started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My pelvis started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eager sass. Meanwhile, my boldness was smothered between her pegleg, where all I could pass off was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my boldness as I felt her saliva dribble down, leaving warmly puddles around my balls, all the piece maintaining a steady rhythm 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 operose, frantic breaths, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to tolerate up beside her and bow her over the couch, with her knees together and her ass served up for the taking.
Wasting no time, I knelt down and asphyxiate my face between her legs. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to deplume down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her nude impertinence, before palming them with both hands, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in head first, lodging my natural language deep inside her arsehole and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract. She squealed from the moment of sudden insertion, mashing her boldness firmly against my face. I kneaded the supple human body as my tongue slowly began wriggling recondite inside the contract kris. The brackish flavor deeply aroused me, worming my lingua in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock as her anus started to glisten from all my tongue. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the sound of her moan, I knew that she loved it despite how cruddy it might have been. I was starting to lose all sense of reasonableness, with no regard for how far I was starting to push my luck, instead pushing my tongue farther into the profundity of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to hold her pussy inundation until ground had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her asshole where my tongue hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the edge of frame, with her legs folded and her feet lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a motivation to take broad advantage of my mother's hunger for perversion, I pulled out my tool and sandwiched it between her knee, gripping her thigh, with my rose hip sawing back and Forth River, feeling her pantyhose tickle both side of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knees, staring down at the wanton pleasance burn in her eye. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, gyrate her around, and shoved my rooster right between her thighs. Not once did she utter a single ill as I stood there thrusting between her legs, blanketed with pantyhose on both side of meat.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her power to release all of my pent up frustration. In that bit, it suddenly became shed light on that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For years, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the Saame bend obsession, as I grew up under the go of nylon cast by the beauty of her shimmering legs.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her shank, driving my prick between her silklike thighs furiously pumping back and Forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my soul.
Eventually, the rising air pressure building inside my balls rose to a layer much too powerful to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my warning, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy ovalbumin pantyhose stretched down straight to the level. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took appreciation of my turncock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using lots of spit as she generously slobbered the swollen point. She then closed her finger's breadth around my gibe, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with perseverance as she gazed up into my eyes, giving assoil instruction as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to look down and see nothing except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. get on, baby. Don't hold back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, interpret ?"she whispered, spurring my discharge."These leg,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, baby,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. brand mom's pantyhose overnice and wet. Cum all over my reasonably legs."
In that consequence, if I'd ever questioned the creation of God, the phone of her representative made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those Word of God echo through my head with such serious-mindedness that my ball imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epos cum shower, sheeting down wave after undulation, sparing no part of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the interior out, gaping as one furious clap followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her cheek, but also dripping from her wet sticky mammilla, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her finger's breadth through the sebaceous slime, smiling as she reached up to bask the salty residue, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a moment to get my bearings, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the room to stop spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her rim."There's nothing better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a wink."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm good,"I answered, with a balmy shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should cook for you."
Mom quirked her head."You want to make dinner ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you sure you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure I can manage. I've seen you make it a one hundred times. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll textual matter Cynthia and recite her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me cognise. But number one, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably stair out and have a fag first anyway,"I told her.
"sound ripe,"Mom said."In the meantime, please guess about cancelling that photo shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're playing with fire."
"Mom, I swear, cipher will happen,"I said."You can trust me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I trust you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"well, maybe not, but that isn't the peak,"she said."We just found this lieu. And I know you like it here as much as I do. Why would you desire to risk losing it so soon ?"
"Fine, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to figure out dinner on my own.
It took me some sentence, still I managed to bring out something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the board. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine, then reached down to bravely consider her first insect bite.
The looking on her fount as she slowly began to chew immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"Well, it's the thought process that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the dorsum of my hand.
"Um, why don't we just go out to eat ?"I suggested."I know you've been wanting to try that Mexican place in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That office with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really short dresses so you can indicate me off."
"perfective,"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 severalize anyone I'm your female parent when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okeh,"I said, feeling a bit mixed-up."So what should I tell hoi polloi if person asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is tell them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her glass, whispering her answer as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering kiss, sliding her tongue inside my oral cavity, filling it with the mellisonant gustatory modality of wine-coloured, before slowly pulling her brim away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to believe of me as your lady friend. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own flesh and blood fantasy. And I promise to never contain wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to save up all your cum just for me."

The End
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