Shepherd's Pie
By Earth Angel

It all started when I was 10 long time old, the yr my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only child to give his obsession with thou Theft Auto blindsided by his first press.
I had just started Jnr heights, where they made us read boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to understand the risk of proscribed lecherousness, yet old enough to detect how my mother would often do the aphrodisiac affair without knowing it.
matter might hold been different had my mother been more bequeath 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 release meter with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more peculiar tendencies.
She had an panoptic shoe collection, to the highest degree of which were high heels. She loved wearing cad so much that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the sign, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't drink anything without a straw. If she was sitting at house grading papers, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football every Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about sport. She just enjoyed wearing her equip jersey and a duad of tights, rooting for whichever team had the precious quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would list down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The look excited me so much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished high school, I was so used to being by my mother's slope that leaving for college less than an hour away filled me with highly mix in emotions due to all the amazing storage left behind.
By my thirdly yr at Emerson, the bauble of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each passing day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no lady friend and only a few Male friends to serve stamp out the tedium.
One blue afternoon, my female parent called me completely out of the blue, with the radical idea of finding a new flat for us to live on together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking woman, with long, course, chestnut Brown University hair, hazel eyes, flat boldness and weedy lips set between her oval chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her glory days of high school gymnastic exercise, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for equalizer beam. Still, she kept her organic structure in tremendous anatomy, wearing trendy outfits that proudly displayed her pert breasts, nasty ass, and best of all, her long, head-turning pegleg.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal popular 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 blow obsession. I tried my salutary to go on her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to worry that I seemed to have no pastime in other young lady.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the thought of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, dumpy apartment. My roommate was a sum slob. Yet, in spite of the cephalalgia, and as a great deal as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to spend my third-year year getting hammered every night and screwing as many co-eds as potential. At least, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the Same skinny kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and make awkward jape around girlfriend my own age, to the stop where even the vile ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favorite pictures of her on my cell headphone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and zippo made me cum faster than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as longsighted as I could remember I had always been captivated by my female parent's legs. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up issue planning to teach marketing at a nearby residential district college where the women on staff often wore pantyhose under their skirt. By that time, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many yr. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this basic factor of her daily business organization attire distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and dimension of her long, sinuous legs.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that time, I became so fixated on my female parent's legs that I started to interrogate why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first office. As unflawed 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 baron luring my center to lurk over the sylphlike feeling of her lean, slender calves, moving up to the meaty soma of her firm sculpted thighs, where her tenacious, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the comprehensiveness of her hips, topped by a set of luscious round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering ribbon 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 pressing pulsation to take care down and gaze over the dazzling glory emanating from her legs. From the hindquarters of all her shortly skirts, down to the bakshish of her toes, each couple she wore had the ability to enthrall me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a undivided day went by where I wasn't sitting at house waiting for her to take the air in and kick off her aphrodisiac bounder. My languorous eyes followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the warm glow of her glistening pantyhose, completely spellbound. The longer I stared, the more I became desperate to fertilise 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 tear out my camera and get her to posture for me out in public. She'd always been the case of mother who gladly encouraged any hobbyhorse I developed, especially my growing interest in photography. Eventually, I managed to gather up dozen of movie, all of which focused on her prospicient, gorgeous branch. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her impression after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to bring up being her son.
My darling pictures for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before teaching, working in corporate U.S. had given her many years to train this detail skill. As a cultivate professional person, she was far too elegant to pick out one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her head up and her buoyant boob pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, sweep her paw under her skirt, then with full extension, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her horseshoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silky root word, the lush contour line visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her depress second joint, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously double-dyed alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the early, sweeping against the grain, a thrilling audio that instantly made my dick pounding hearing that subtle swish.
Deep down, I knew it was wrong. Still, I often tried to win over myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the blistering womanhood on Earth. Her articulation alone sent frisson down my spine, with the perfect diction and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident pedagogue, with only the slightest trace of a distinctive New England accent mark.
Despite being over forty, her nutritious diet and favorable demeanor gave her a youthful radiance. She barely ate more than two sting of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every morning. While it was clearly a positive thing, her tidy lifestyle only encouraged my physical drawing card to bear on building and become more herculean each day.
Her bra size was an medium 34-B. Yet, her small-scale chest proudly stood out in line with her bantam waistline, jutting from the flimsy fabric of her nasty blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working bingle mom, I had to ideate she still had needs. Yet, to my limited knowledge, after the divorce, she had no men in her animation. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much time worrying if I was getting laid, she might hold had time to date. She should have had fling lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might throw been somewhat biased by my own verboten puppy love and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my putz. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cellphone turn flashed up across the screen. The timing was painful as I'd just settled on one of her honest pictures, taken in Times lame. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a black mini, black ticker, and a radiant pair of burn pantyhose gleaming in unspecific daylight.
I snapped the exposure just as Mom walked over to perplex next to a improbable New York streetlight. It was like she could read my thoughts as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her side was only one-half seeable under her hanker hair's-breadth, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the camera, flexing her left-hand knee behind her back. She stood there holding the affectedness for several seconds, with one shoe playfully lifted off the earth and a smiling on her case as bright as the pantyhose on her branch.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the phone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to detect the noisy jingle of whack, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a bit ?"she said quickly."There's something important I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her voice that told me it must be sober. Still, I'd just spent the last five instant drooling over her sexy photos. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my last stumble home. She had over a dozen. So I easily convinced myself that she wouldn't notice if I only took one. My dick was already throbbing. All I could intend about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my hand, then taking my silklike finger's breadth and wrapping them gently around my pecker. Naturally, the more she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two calendar month,"she said."I just got a letter that my economic rent is increasing by almost 200 dollar sign. There's no way I can afford 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 get to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd flavor if I moved up to Boston."
At that picky 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 thinking, just for the chance to be up last and personal with her amaze legs again.
"I understand if you need to conceive about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it much thought myself. I'm just not sure what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to envisage what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random question hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the instructor's sofa,"she said."I'm on my luncheon geological fault. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the picture of her sitting there with her legs crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one horseshoe off her substructure, 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 have thing soft ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the actual reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been sick about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a skillful lieu for the two of us."
It took me another moment to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the fluid velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered finger's breadth were gently grazing up and down the duration of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely concentrate. I was too in use wondering what her unloose hand was doing as she sat there with one hired man holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her fingers over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many prison term at home ? Was she dipping one substructure in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to cognise for for certain. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the instructor's waiting room, in fully view of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old clip. I can always find employment at another campus. Plus we can obtain a place with Thomas More space for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to get through inside the oven. I could already see her bird riding up, framing her cordiform ass, with just a steer of her pantyhose gusset peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to talk to pry about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bond on my roomy, even if our rental was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some priming coat rules,"I added, when I started to earn the exemption I'd be giving up purely to see her stage every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to do the rules now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"Nothing major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll regard each other's privacy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing make fun base or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your father. You won't have to worry about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was tight, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more finespun rubbing to my teasing hand cam stroke.
"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 distance to smoke locoweed and drama 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 zippo you can obliterate from me."
"Mom, what the hell,"I said, voicing my aggravator."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first reaction was to titter. Then, she started to explicate, parsing her words carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a piddling bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very good-looking. It doesn't make horse sense that you'd rather sit at abode surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's spate of existent women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit nervous."I never knew you had such a thing for elderly charwoman,"she continued."Maybe I should introduce you to some of the instructor here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my data processor behind my back, by then my head was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the theme 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 face lifting in her voice told me she was smiling on the former end.
"You must take in been reading my mind,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but regard all day. It was dainty telling everyone my son picked them out."
"aplomb,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch contraband strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon River."I can't delay to see how they look."
"fountainhead, you're in fate,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to front at places in the morning. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd beloved to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might want to don something warm."
"Oh, I'll be all right,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jeans. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a span,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the study.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your jeans,"I repeated, resisting the urge to groan."I speculation that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not concern in that."
"Oh, it's mulct,"I said, knowing it would only be another minute or so before I exploded all over my hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just make for sure you tell Jimmy to wear out some trouser this time. It's a little clumsy seeing your roomy with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a daemon."But then again, you can't really pick him. That skirt you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal duration. The bird I'm wearing today is unforesightful than that."
"well that explains all the compliment,"I said."How do you keep back your students from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's kind of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"plosive it, Mom. You look expectant. 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 mo. In 19 years, my mother had never asked me a question as directly intimate as that. My clump were practically about to burst. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to vocalize my unnatural desire to run my hands over her cushy silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy leg. Still, I somehow managed to react with an resolution intended to shroud my true feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my forehead."This is starting to carry a weird routine. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, tell me,"she added, with a boldness I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same time."Seriously, I want to roll in the hay,"she urge on, as I held back what felt like a massive extravasation."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the one you look at on those dirty web site ?"
My body trembled. I honestly couldn't tell whether she wanted the truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, plosive speech sound,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should mouth about this anymore."
"Okay, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to ready you uncomfortable. Just tell me one thing. Which part of a womanhood's consistency do you like to the highest degree ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My scoop option was to push back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we set down it now ?"
To my astonishment, she didn't stoppage there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so voiceless 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, intercept it. I can't pack 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 unscathed idea. It's bad enough you can't find a girl. I'd hate to do anything that makes you feel even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the terminal time,"I said, starting to lose it."If I really wanted a girl, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one foot in the tomb ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose fetish I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the time. I certainly don't want you having sexual thoughts about me. Surely, I don't have to tell apart you how inappropriate that would be."
Of track she didn't. I'd known all along how inappropriate it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't caution. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no subject what, dying to plume every thread with a massive wad of thick oleaginous tinder, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the indelible retentiveness that triggered my fetish in the first berth.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing see-through pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from work in her black fuck-me pumps, the stale olfactory perception of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swell metrical unit. I could even picture the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hips switching from English to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the auditory sensation of her spike out bounder clicking on the sidewalk, only to follow home, peel off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the trammel, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slip my clapper over the wet spot, and deeply inhaled her stiff, musky scent.
My lurid memories pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spurt, I was forced to stifle my impulse to groan, watching jets of seed blast into the air, surging from the caput of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my script, while my female parent patiently waited on the other end, with no idea what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my rash act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to collect myself, leading with a impenetrable sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just advert up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being fair. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an significant determination, I think you should evidence 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 paw, by saying no, she'd most belike sense that I was lying, which would only pass water her angry and potentially spoil any chance of us moving back in together. On the other hand, telling the accuracy would most in all probability freak out her out so a great deal that she might not utter to me again for month, and that was even bad.
Normally, in spot like this, where I wasn't exactly sure enough what to do, the first thing I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my emplacement. That's when it hit me that the well way to answer her question was to turn it around and ask her a question of my own.
"I'll be fair,"I said, pausing before slyly attempting to redirect."But commencement I'd like to listen what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a curt breathing time."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess up with your straits. I think if we're going to live together, then you have to forebode to find a girlfriend and go living in the real world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"Good,"she said."I'll see you in the morning. And don't forget to get back my pantyhose."
* * *
The adjacent morning, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, shameful, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver necklace which failed to keep me from noticing the segmentation swelling over her launch neckline. Her blue tight fitting jean sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every curve ball under skin-tight jean, leading down, just as promised, to her brand name new, high-heeled, disgraceful leather sandals, with cut shoulder strap spanning over her naked feet.
Looking down at the cuff of her denim, the first matter I noticed was the disturbing absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my entirely dark tossing and turning in prevision 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 fetish. So the last matter I wanted to do was call any undue tending to it good away.
We stood there enjoying a affectionate hug, when my roommate, Jimmy, promptly emerged from his elbow room. The grin on his brass told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a civilized handshake. For a few mo, she and jemmy stood there making pocket-sized talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could utter to me in my room.
I led her back to my bedroom and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her finis pair of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to gargle out the pair I'd taken from her bureau. So I promptly fished them from the tidy sum of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give her a moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must experience been hurrying too much to realize that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the constringe crack, knowing it was wrong, yet still ineffective to charge my eyes from watching her undress.
With her back turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one shoe at a time, enjoying the adorable sight of jean smothering her compressed cycle butt. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zip fastener, then continued watching as her hands went up to her sides. She hooked her quarter round into the narrow girdle and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips side to side. I fully expected to see pantie, or at least a G-string, resisting the urge to gasp as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her defenseless ass. My dick instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the waistline, presenting me with a clear purview of her outer pussy lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that Jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my incredible fortune was too good to take place up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with prevision as she wisely removed the jewelry from her fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her quick fingers rolled up the first-class honours degree leg. She then lifted her left understructure, then reached down and slid the tintinnabulation of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slide the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee joint. She set down her left foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right foot inside the face-to-face sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her articulatio genus, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her supple thighs, and finally squirming to pinch her shapely hip under the strain girdle, making one final readjustment to tune up the stitching along her narrow-minded butt cranny, where her high-class asscheeks, under a wondrously layer of tan, slick, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could cause stood there watching forever, but my instinct told me to discontinue while I was ahead, knowing she could change by reversal around and view me at any moment.
I went back to the sustenance room to see jemmy rolling a juncture, which I'd come to require as constituent of his morning routine. The night before, he and I had sat down for a long public lecture where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, Jimmy took it in stride, explaining that he had already been planning to locomote in with his girl in a few weeks anyway. Fortunately, there were no laborious feelings between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roommate was soon to be.
second later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her pretty feet. I promptly turned and hurried toward the door, hoping to shield my raging erection from her thought. We left my apartment and set out to encounter our new lieu, quickly escaping so Mom could avoid Jimmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the bicycle and turned on the local 1980s station. The call on the radio thankfully managed to quiet my erecting as I route beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly ironic words.
"Every little thing she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to expend the succeeding span of hour going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, s trading floor walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The family was owned by a young, honeymooner couple named Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first floor. Book of Joel was a successful contractor in the city. Cynthia was a former nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birth to their first child. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judgment by the size of her enormous titty which seemed to report for nearly half her torso system of weights, especially considering how brusque she was. If I had to approximate, I would take said she was easily a G-cup…With a capital G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big mammilla !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four column inch shorter, as I stood at Mom's side of meat and watched them converse with each former, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the Saami high school as my mother, only eight old age later.
Cynthia led us up to see the apartment and we couldn't believe our eyes. The lieu had literally everything we wanted, high gear ceilings, hardwood floors, with tons of space, including a magnanimous eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and living room area, divided by sliding double over door. On the right was a small office, a belittled guest bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a small storage space, with a door to the backward porch, and stairs leading up to the attic. The attic had been completely remodeled for new tenant, with two bedrooms, and a bombastic master bathtub.
Mom and I signed the rental in a matter of twenty-four hour period, agreeing to move in by October 1st.
The move itself went fairly tranquil. Mom hired movers to handle all the big furniture. Then, on Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few hr. Sometime around 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 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 get down removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old books and photo album, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound daybook which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty room and quietly cracked open the first page.
The first of all entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six month after my parents'divorce.
The first base few submission weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing business firm she'd worked at during her marriage. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks observance. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own ambitiousness when all Dad wanted was someone Thomas More traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much felicitous with his new trophy married woman. So there really was cipher else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the first five or six Page, when things started to pick up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something looney happened today. I made out with microphone Sullivan in the stairwell over by his berth. I'm not even sure why I did it. He's almost 10 years younger than me. Plus he's so full of himself, really not my type. He hasn't arrest flirtation with me ever since he heard I was back on the grocery, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to promote him. It wasn't my decisiveness to move the copier outside his role. I love how he always comes over and drops his pen on the flooring. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I just meet along. At first, he would cut down it and plunk it right back up. Now he likes to tarry down there and stare at my legs for a patch. It's pretty suspect to watch over. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the same thing. He must really like my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through plenty lately. The last thing I want to do is embarrass him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about Mike. Kelly and Robin are throwing a good day party for me tomorrow night. microphone said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could severalize 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 char in the office. He probably thinks I'm future. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollars on a brand new company dress and that son of a bitch didn't even register up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were passel of early guys there who liked it. Never thought I could rip off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again following hebdomad. It was kind of odd being the center of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know American robin was pretty envious. I told her to stop buying me shots. Besides, no one puts stripper rod in a bar wide of drunken fair sex expecting nonentity to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my kitty-cat for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm sure as shooting Mike would ingest loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't barricade thinking about his turncock. I really require to get know. I should probably invest in a honorable vibrator. I would have bought one months ago, but I'm just afraid Chris would find it. He's always sneaking into my 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 terminal thing I want to regain is a huge cum smear on one of my satin G-string. I guess at some point 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 let kept meter reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the room. I headed back down the stairs trying to process all the wind thoughts scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my female parent wasn't as clueless or sinless as I'd always believed. She seemed to enjoy getting attention from younger men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a slut really got me excited. I stepped out onto the support porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to quiet myself down.
The view from the back up 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 niche of the room, I spotted an empty rocking chairwoman, next to what looked like the railings on a sister's crib. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Artemis appeared carrying the baby in her arms. Even from such a high angle, it was virtually impossible to look down and see anything other than her whopping pap. The image reminded me of those IMAX movies where they show you the earth from space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't help grinning at the lightness blue clit up perspirer she was wearing. The framework was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro light source, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already aroused as screw, as I watched Cynthia gain up and unsnap her bra from the straw man, letting her left breast flop through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's sass over her swollen-headed nipple. My wholly aliveness I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth. I've always preferred pegleg, but there was no denying the knockout of Cynthia's phenomenal jugful. The size of her breasts reminded me of my days back at the pizza shop, where we laid out the dinero until it rose into soft, round, flesh-colored mounds. The longer I watched, the more I found myself jealous of her short boy and the blissful looking on his face as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my dick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front doorway. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back inside.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a curt, heather Gy, New England Patriots T-shirt, with sinister spandex yoga pants, and a pair of brown fur-lined flush. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no physical composition, yet I still wanted to stoop her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get much done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a grass. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's exquisitely. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a bomb sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the hatful of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one chair in the kitchen. The rest were all stacked in the dining room.
"Good question,"she said."Why don't you sit here ? If I get tired of standing, I can always sit on your lap."
Assuming she was just kidding, I grabbed my sandwich and took a keister, while Mom leaned against the counter and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her stage stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't chosen that take moment to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her side instantly told me she could feel how operose I was. I expected her to leap out right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this torture looking at on her nerve 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 phone call over again. Only this time, there was no ingenious way for me to gyrate it. I was far too humiliated to face her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the smoothness of her leg covering as she pressed her ass firmly against my turncock.
Intended for yoga, the leg covering felt more like velvety tights, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as indulgent to the touch. On the plus side of meat, the textile 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 arm in front of her.
"Maybe you should severalize me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to face her, I lifted my sweaty palms and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her headway."Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the theater like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you think what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that well-heeled. It takes time."
"OK, maybe you're right field,"she said."So in the meantime, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just have to deal with it on my own."
"mulct,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the coherent thing to do in that berth would make probably been to resist up and go to my way. Instead of doing that, I chose to arrive at light of the place, hoping to cut the tautness by seeing if Mom was willing to birth a gumption of humour about the whole thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to deform away. Then she slowly twisted her brain back, weapons system folded as she glared at me through the narrow slits of her oculus.
"You haven't got the testis to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with mass calling me a wimp. I'd never been estimable at athletics. In schooling, I got picked on for being the tight-fitting boy in class. missy pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too chicken to struggle back. I'd been putting up with rowdy for as prospicient as I could recollect. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.
"Okay, time out,"Mom said, putting her hands up."This has gone far enough. Put your peter back in your bloomers, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip heterosexual 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 sentinel ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a mild laugh and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just expect me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is normal ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her head to her bureau, before wearily rubbing her brow. After a brief moment, she slowly raised her headland up, responding with a curt nod, as she quietly answered."Fine, do what you want. I can't stop you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would have been slow to halt rightfulness there. I could have easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my coffin nail, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a tobacco user and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own rule about smoking inside the planetary house. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my cock harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of sens."You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any fellow feeling, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a second, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in script, as she marched back over toward the tabulator. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sump, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a modest plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. bottleful in hand, she leaned over the head 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 smile on her face which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my member around the base, making her lookout man as I slid my balled fist up to the straits, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all sides, enabling me to bask the feel of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my set beam, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my technique, imagining one day to sense her hand instead of my own. The look on her face lacked any form of formulation, as if to prevent me from noticing any signs of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed this up,"she said, dropping her hired man to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to campaign this even further."You could turn around and express me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and show you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I bet at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding spokesperson, with its air of implicit powerfulness, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with ebullience.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I count at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snicker."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out LE than three inches from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so good,"I answered quickly."Your ass is gross. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the sight of her black leg covering stretched taut over the curve of her firm shapely rump. She kept her invertebrate foot together, accentuating the side where the low of her backbone arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight framework, so amazingly round and fully, I could barely deem back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm sword lily you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more guild from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"O.K.,"I whispered, losing my hint."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to remain firm up. We're trading places."
With no faltering, I jumped out of my butt, expecting my female parent to sprain around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index digit, directing me to remain firm in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her stifle down on the wooden hindquarters, 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 muscle,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then picture me,"she said."Show me how horny you are correct now. Let me palpate it. Let me feel 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 go along out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to flick off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga pants ?
I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to oppose, as I lunged forward and slammed my dick smell up against her stub, a emphatic collision softened by the legging and the meaty flesh underneath, the staring cushion for my throbbing penis to dig against her smooth, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified screech, as I grabbed her by the shank, ignoring her vocal protestation as I violently started thrusting my coxa back and Forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, occlusion ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of row, I could pick up her. But I wasn't about to block off, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in restitution. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my hammer. Her voice was raspy and out of breath, with her heading forward, pilus swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your dick is so concentrated. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes babe, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetheart. Please let me sense your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so practically spunk come gushing out of my stopcock like a broken pee main. The military unit of each spasm was so crimson that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My facial expression was buried in her fuzz as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering virtuoso of her piano cheeks pressed up against my putz milked out the remaining cum flowing from my aching musket ball.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the Negro leging ranch over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick layer of blank creamy foam, rolling down the calamitous spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist pussy.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for Word as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go change,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a second, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good musical theme,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to obviate getting another hard-on in the next ten mo, okay ?"
* * *
For the relief of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only take for granted she needed as a great deal time to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking nearly of our things. Mom spent nearly of her prison term 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 get together some friends from school who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got nursing home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The succeeding morning time, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely decent time to grab a quick shower, throw on some clothes and wash off to get to my morning family. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to concern that my goosey legal action had managed to ruin everything on our offset day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a musical note with a list of thing Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to category, the fear of Mom telling me to locomote out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the persuasion of going family, certain of what was destined to come.
My final grade ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, jemmy had kindly given me two ounces of blue Dream. So I figured the topper thing to do was go dwelling, smoke a bowl and have a couple beers, just to prepare myself for the foul temper my mother was sure to be in when she got home.
The present moment I walked in the house, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the like box where I'd left it, right at the foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few Thomas Nelson Page, stopping at a handing over that instantly caught my eye.
Dec 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the center. I was variety of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a scene. He was well dressed for a immature guy with a nice business organisation suit like he could have been a lawyer or something. I needed some chocolate 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 minute I sat down, I could instantly palpate him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my peg. I could take in got up and come up another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and hold open my branch crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a hour, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thought he'd take the tip and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how nervous he was to draw near me. I was kind of diss, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not hand him one just to lie with with his top dog. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my coxa toward him, and slowly uncross my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them open to show him the black thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four prison term, crossing my legs back and forth. Each sentence, I held my legs open for a second, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the brass to follow me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a great deal on a disastrous brace of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice glossy close. 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 bird up even more, exposing not only my opprobrious thong, but almost of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some debase keep me from buying place. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underclothing, with my legs open and my annulus up around hips, working my feet into the shoes. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to recreate innocent with his spine turned. At that breaker point, I probably should suffer confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the loss and turned around to see if he was still behind me. Sure enough, he walked out with a smile on his face like he hadn't done anything incorrect. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful legs. I asked if he got off peeking up women's skirts. He said only cleaning lady who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a twat or maybe he could give seen more. He offered to contract me out for a drink to see if he could convert my feeling. He looked a little angry when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a ribbing. So then I decided to instruct him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the windowpane, quickly undid my blouse, then told him to guide out his stopcock. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his putz out. I spit in my palm, taking his peter in one helping hand, while using the former to slowly pull in up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the other to stroke his cock hard and fasting. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my stage and instantly started to cum as I watched his shipment rain down across my thigh, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word…
The passage ended there, but the rousing gist lingered in my bright imagination longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without question my first clear evidence that the women who raised me and handed down all of my lesson was bequeath to engage in extreme, high-risk, sexual behavior with seemingly any young man with a peter. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and impression of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my female parent's dark side, determined to see how far she was unforced to go to fill her deepest intimate desires.
One minute later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the pipe bowl I'd just finished smoke and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the gossamer from my headway, as I walked toward the strait of somebody knocking on the door.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his prick belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a bright orangeness satin nightie.
"Good morning,"she said, over a deep yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a baffle feeling, as I glanced down at her fuzzy pink slippers."Actually, it's good afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would consume come sooner, but I woke up about ten minute of arc ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's cool. descend 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 focus on her fount."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a lean of stuff…smoke alert, radiator, lav cesspool, and one of the lighter substitution in the attic."
"No headache,"she said."Smoke alarum probably needs a new battery. If the light electrical switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had short blonde hair, in one of those voguish bob-style haircuts, parted on the left wing, creating a pin-up frame for the fullness of her round, chubby typeface. Knowing how critical some char are, she might give described herself as adiposis. In my opinion, the additional baby weight just made her wait more sonsy. Her hips were fairly wide, yet her venter was still pretty flat, with a span of incredibly vast knockers, giving her a perfective hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a small under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent over beside the radiator.
From that slant, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no polite way to stay fresh myself from staring down at her giant snoot. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's tits reminded me of those heavy pocketbook 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 satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half defenseless, I did my just to relieve her sense of urging, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could get waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave work until five or six. She's more sore to the cold than I am. My old flat was practically defective. Not to mention, we trust you."
"wellspring, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first renter since we bought this place…hate to start off on the amiss substructure,"she added."The radiator seems okay, must be a job with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and check on the infant. I can fix it right after that."
"Sounds right,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and correspond out the swallow hole too. I just need to put on some real number clothes."
"No rush, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be thoroughly to wear a little more next time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightie had helplessly slipped down."I know the young lady can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless attempt to cover up, making her breast meat joggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to hold open my eyeball inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the door, she paused in front line of the office, pointing to the photographic camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a sideline. When I was young, I had this dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like play Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or playboy,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's cool,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up style. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just assume me as more…I don't know, button-down, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a Mitt Romney bumper spikelet, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"Well, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the more Cynthia reminded of the lady friend I knew back in high school day, the ones who'd been spoiled since giving birth and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smiling and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, worthy in this lawsuit considering her plenteous bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next month is our arcsecond anniversary. I wasn't sure what to get Joel as a endowment, but now I'm thinking he'd really enjoy some courteous enchant snap, you know, something sexy to add some spicery back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her wedlock. Still, I couldn't ignore the pernicious flirtation of this do-or-die housewife or the rapidly growing hard-on in my bloomers.
"Umm, sure, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and take some test shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no time stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to peel down the right shoulder strap of her nightie, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here oeuvre for you ?"
"I'll use the instant,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the television camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the moment the camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so a great deal confidence in front line of the lens. The innocent, plucky housewife who'd showed up just mo earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering tease, with two perfectly pouting mouth and a pestilent come-hither stare, enhancing the excite impression of her ruttish blue middle. Yet, the sultry look on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her arms together, thrusting her tit toward the photographic camera like dual airbags, completely filling up the frame with more segmentation than my brain could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various poses, when I mildly requested that we step over across the hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hand, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her mount up onto the table.
She didn't need much direction as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her head tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the ceiling.
"brain if I ask you a personal query,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left side, returning my head with a knowing smile.
"You want to have sex 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 small-scale 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 wound your back ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two congius of Milk River strapped to your chest. It sort of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your pap ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use rule, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My breast milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than regular milk. I try to eat scads of fruit to clear it honeyed. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."fountainhead, I know you have to go. I'll upload these film and see which angles work best. Let me sleep together when you have fourth dimension for a entire photograph shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something faulty ?"I asked."If you need time to think about it, I understand."
"No, it's not that,"she said."I was waiting for you to ask if you could try some."
The calmness in her phonation combined with her level regard gave me a lightheaded touch 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 woman I barely knew was offering to let me taste her breast milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the moment I saw her, my low neural impulse was to bury my cheek between her dresser and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial jounce prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my nerve which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a picayune peculiar.
She seemed to love teasing me as her right on mitt slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her go away shoulder strap. perspiration beads formed across my supercilium as she fixed her eyes on me and quietly peeled down the other. My centre concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her massive thorax, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently ease down the shiny fabric. Finally, with a lump in my pharynx, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to extract out her tremendous jug.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't penetrate how a woman so modest could end up with tits that big. Each one was gravid than my oral sex and must experience weighed at least ten pounds, as I sat there entranced by the sizing and build of these two gigantic globes, hovering inches from my face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smooth, with stretch marks along both incline of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's boob 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 soft tissue paper really started to jiggle.
Needless to say, I was totally stunned as Artemis pulled her breast out for all their glory, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to know how proud she was of her huge 38FFs.
sitting in the chair, my optic were level with her pink mammilla, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her dark areolas, no wider than a distich of quarters.
She beckoned me with her crooked finger, stopping me when I leaned in too skinny.
"Don't put your mouthpiece on it,"she said."Just sit back, open wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed Holy Order, leaning my head back, then parting my lips undefended and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the crown of her thumb and forefinger on each incline of her veracious pap. Then, using light pressing, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The for the first time sprinkle squirted from her nipple like milky serum from the tip of a syringe. Her aim was perfect, pointing her nipple directly in front of my mouthpiece. I instantly closed my centre, compelled by the need to burn this moment deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious. The sweetness, lemony liquidness filling my open mouth magically transported me back to babyhood. She stopped me for a minute, giving me fourth dimension to enjoy the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouth. My eyes opened just in time to see her lifting her other chest, which soon began streaming Milk River over my tongue as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the lovesome nectar, letting the flavor seep into every turning point of my mouth, tingling my taste buds, as the creation around me faded into a aloof fuzz.
"somebody seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."adept matter I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet-smelling,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your assistance with the photograph. But I should probably head back now. We'll talking again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my undecomposed to seem nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the pee just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you palpate about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those thing. They made us get into them all the time at the hospital. You know, like those horrifying white condensation hose. It makes me rub just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an idea too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a aphrodisiacal nurse's outfit, with white blackguard and glossy livid hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just clear me look in effect. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a job,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a brief hug and a diffused kiss on the cheek, as I closed the door, wiping the exertion off my forehead.
* * *
By the sentence Cynthia left, I felt like a amount zombie. My dick was so firmly I could barely walk, like all the blood in the rest of my consistence had instantly rushed down to my throb private parts. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly cower back upstairs, looking to notice Mom's daybook once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random musical passage. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the wintry air, as I picked up the diary and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the date of her latest entryway. My chest heaved the consequence I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to bed 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 mind, the possibility was so tantalizing that the forbidden excitement of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that full point, I wanted a way to make the present moment even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a cold room. Or maybe it was just my raw instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled open my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a sumptuous sight of highschool tone women's hose, in a multitude of colors, blueprint and thickness levels. I studied the raft, breathing heavily over the amplitude of nylon undergarments spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose snack bar. I rummaged through the pile, searching until my hands came across a feather alight pair of silky, midnight black pantyhose brush against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my blue jean and underwear, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to fumble my way through it, taking instruction from the retentiveness of watching Mom put them on under her dungaree. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my cock and nut. My hawkshaw stood up like a flagstone Pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its limit, drawing the waistband several inch away from my navel while I reached down and held the pecker flat up against my breadbasket. That first present moment of sum encasement from the waist down filled my whole dead body with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the joy sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own shine legs took me to a level of turmoil I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my phallus beneath the fabric, making me feel right at home.
Ready to get going reading material, I anxiously sat down, as my leg started bouncing and twitching from overexcitement. Between my mother letting me cum on her ass, Cynthia showing me her tits, and the crazy prevision of what I had yet to read, it was a curiosity I didn't instantly blow my lading as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The vividness running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the weed, sent me into a dreamlike State as I quietly turned down to the page.
September 30th, 2012
I'm really worried about Chris. He's been acting different lately. I love him to death and I can't assistance feeling responsible for for what happened today. I know he's getting sometime and he's basically grown enough to hold his own decisions. Still, it's obvious he has sure tendencies that are far too serious to dominate. I was able to look past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetite for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this outre obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animal. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those thing. It's tough to even stomach the thought of letting him degrade me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my life, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own anatomy and blood. What kind of mother would I be to let him think what he did was OK ? It doesn't matter how a good deal I enjoyed it. There's nil improper with enjoying the feeling of mortal finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to rive it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a moderately decent size of it, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was someone I could 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 incur person, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is crazy. I missed him so lots and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can put to work this out, as long as I'm able to control myself better that he can. estimate we'll just sustain to wait and see…
As I finished the enactment, I set down the diary and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and keep out my oculus, letting her words action replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of key fruit jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was poop past five. Mom was already home. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my elbow room with no time to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some blue jean, slid on a pair of socks, and promptly walked down to recognize her sudden reaching, staying as lull as I could.
"You're home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a muckle of rubble chain mail, as I noticed a bag of groceries resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a quickly smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish gray business suit. The colouring material was a little drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off aright above mid-thigh, leaving more than enough leg on display where I could briefly pause to gaze over the achromatic color of the sheer ivory pantyhose stretching down to her flannel leather pumps.
"Sorry, probably smoked too a good deal,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner party ?"
"wellspring,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to empty the bag."Since it's our first of all official home-cooked meal in our new piazza, I went out and got stuff to take shepherd's pie."
The cup of tea Mom referred to was an Irish people casserole, made with onion plant, Daucus carota sativa, priming coat lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed potatoes. It was also an interior put-on among our family.
Shepherd was the gens Mom took when she got married, the name she'd kept after the divorce so her last public figure would still be the Same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her sheepman's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and other special occasions.
"sang-froid,"I said."Shall I break out the in force china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your father and I had the Saami thing for dinner when we moved into our first billet. I figured since you're the new man of the sign of the zodiac, I should hit it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the sentiment 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 disturbed when she got home. I had spent most of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to clear the air and would have said something right then, but the smile on her face was so open and to the full of tenderness that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the elbow room. In that minute, I could only assume that Mom had made the conclusion to go on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter head on, I did my outdo to ignore the tension between us, though it wasn't well-to-do, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my secretiveness, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the way. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her munition around my neck opening. Her perfume smelled like mint candy as her Pomaderris apetala eyes cut right through me. Her foresightful, regular gaze calmed me to the pointedness where the panic inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck and shoulders.
"Not sure,"I said,"just been a unusual couple of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been passably nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could feel the warmth of her breath. 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 sentence. It means so much that you're willing to kick in up your exemption to endure with your crazy, old mom. I want you to know no thing what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and kiss her as hard as I could. The light her in eye gave me the feeling she might not draw out away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and weight-lift my backtalk firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining board ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a moment, quickly blinking, trying to pile up my view. In hindsight, perhaps I should have lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a mild grin on my grimace, as I calmly proceeded to excuse how Cynthia had stopped by earlier, noticed the camera in the place and thought it would be coolheaded to afford Joel some sexy picture for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would understand it was all in fun, but the frown on her nerve immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem nervous about it,"she said, quirking her head to the face."Are you sure she just wanted scene, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The stress in her body felt like she was bracing for a major shock. Her centre 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 subject of breast milk. 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 answer the second I turned away. Before I could stop her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left field and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those pictures before Book of Joel hears about this,"she said."The last thing we need is a understanding for him to project us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the pictures one at a time.
I could hear the hurt in her vox as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's null,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a support. It's just a way to set out my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulder joint. The hair falling over her brass made it difficult to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulder, trying to console her.
Finally, with bout welling in her centre, she looked back, vocalism vibration as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her words struck me like a deadbolt of lightning. Without thought, I lunged forward and kissed her with more passion than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled blowup with the same intense importunity.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how longsighted. Our hands roamed everywhere, groping each former's body in a untamed frenzy. The wonderful texture as I ran my fingers through her silky chocolate-brown hair, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my tool, stirred me to contact down and shove both hands under her skirt, running my hand over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingers over every inch of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her lithesome cheeks yielding to the pressure of my clenching finger, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy bottom 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 arcanum inside my blue jean. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to reach down and snaffle her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the softness of the nylon against my finger, helpless to arrest my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered pelvic girdle and thigh, as she urgently reached through my give zipper, trying in vain to feel my cock, only to be blocked by a dyad 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 finger's breadth softly caress me through me through the nylon, a consequence of silent recognition passed between us, where placing her mitt against the smooth, dark fibers of the pantyhose enshroud inside my dungaree opened a portal leading to the shadows of verboten sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her finger's breadth over the scheme of my bulging cock. I could hardly trust my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly set about rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."fountainhead, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the delight of her soft touch, with her fingerbreadth gliding over the ridges of my stiff, pulsating shaft, twinkle as a plumage, never stopping to appear up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my rickety position, while brushing the pourboire of her finger against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the feeling of both her handwriting and the pantyhose, pausing to savour the dizzying star, letting the joy absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cell of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little crocked, but not uncomfortable."
The power point of her nail circled around the tip of my putz, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her vocalisation returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"well, sometimes a little restraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do sustain to say one thing. I can't deny my belief 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 mean ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just engage this one stride at a time."
"That's mulct,"I said."Just knowing you're okeh with my fetish is salutary enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."
With her Elwyn Brooks White hound still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my shaft, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating motion, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the atmospheric pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our physical structure to fuse together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the effect she was having on me.
"Best notion in the human race,"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 somersault of her tomentum, as I watched her quietly maltreat back toward the dining table.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her heel together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My oculus settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the slide 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 butt joint. The nylon command top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whiter than the nylon extending down her ramification.
"Is this a good angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond sound,"I said, shaking my head.
"conduct a motion-picture show, it'll last longer,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to pick up the camera where she'd left it on the base. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my undecomposed to maintain my work force firm, fighting through wonky nerves.
I shifted the lens vertically, wanting to bewitch the full extension phone of her stage, ensuring her heels were visible in the frame. My excitement was so overwhelming I could barely defend my assiduousness. The embodiment of all my phantasy stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was strong physical grounds straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our prevent foreplay by the seductive fashion in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking pictures as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest across the table. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the thin muscles of her legs seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright position, turning to look the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the bum. She flipped her hair, striking another pose, letting her blazer coast down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't help watching the motion of her hand rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the cloth against her skin, caressing the nylon with such affectionateness that I suddenly became drunk with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a aphrodisiacal demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace semi-circles covering the lower half of each bosom, combined with an underwire to fight out the alluring comprehensiveness of her bust, setting her breast high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was part of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut thong of the same lacy framework and vividness. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her left-hand understructure.
Finally, with her place still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her dog pointed toward the roof. I watched as she crooked her top dog to the right, snapping another impression with her wooden leg elevated and the side of her face peeking back at me with the naughtiest grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"shaping, where she reached down and placed her left hand over the cotton fiber panel between her branch. I held up the television camera for one live on affectedness, framing the final shaft so her brass was centered between her undecided peg, as she scrunched her eyeball together, parted her lips, and bit down on one of her metacarpophalangeal joint, feigning an expression of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The visual sensation was so compelling that I instantly tore off everything including my air-sleeve. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with receptive blazon. Our back talk melted together as I rushed my hand down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thighs with her branch wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough way to progress to up and fondle her breasts. She let out a moan as my fingers made contact with her swollen mamilla, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my penis was begging for exit. Still, I wasn't sealed how far she was willing to go. I tested the amniotic fluid by gently easing her off the board, spinning her around, then pressing my aching hard-on flat up against her hindquarters. She leaned back, keeping our steaming mouths bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one bridge player firmly attached to her tit, I took the other and slid it down over her tum, wedging my fingers inside her panty, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my middle digit. Her sassing parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the decisive condition of her arousal. Her pelvis slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her button.
Within seconds, she was panting heavily. Her entirely torso started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to sway even more. For once in my life, I was actually in control condition, using my fingers to work Mom's pussy into a frothing lather.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her answer came with a serial publication of fits 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 null but a long, steady groan. Her expression grimaced as her sass flung open, moaning and wailing through violent shudder vibrating against my cock. Her heaving breaths gradually became more normal as the smell of her tender juices permeated the room with the musky odour of her sex.
Swept by the current of prohibited lecherousness, we hastily made our way toward the living elbow room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the sofa. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the cushions. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her hand against my putz.
The pantyhose felt like a shaft ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under tight, restrictive thrall.
"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 current of reeking liquidity as her mitt continued its journeying along my light beam. Grabbing the sash, 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 warmly hint around the tip. She flicked out her glossa, tasting the liquidness, mopping it like a sponger. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to rake the tip of her knife along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spit.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my tool, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her tongue to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her font as she quietly jerked me off. Her eyes widened as the calamus extended under her skillful manipulation. She seemed to do it exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my member, quietly bonding like it was more attached to her that it was to me.
I had learned my object lesson from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you listen if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put clothes pins on my nipples and that would have been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, swinging her legs up to rest them against my groin. Bending her knee, she nestled both human foot around my shaft, placing the rotating shaft between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arches softly continued to yank me off.
Finally, my female parent was giving me low gear animal foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the impression of her feet 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 have it away how I was able to keep on myself from nutting all over her pes powerful then and there.
"That's a unspoiled boy. Let mom jerk you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your dick, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too busybodied trying not to cum. I wanted to halt out as long as potential, never wanting it to end.
using her strong leg muscle with persistence, she continued pumping her groundwork up and down my cock until it turned purple. Finally, she needed a break, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my shoulder joint, straddled my oral sex and lowered her fork hell dust down against my face.
She must have intended to muffle my groan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my dick, then swallowed about of it straight down her pharynx. With one mitt around it, her head started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her bore mouth. Meanwhile, my aspect was smothered between her wooden leg, where all I could rest was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nozzle. She literally started humping my face as I felt her saliva drip down, leaving warm puddles around my chunk, all the while maintaining a steady rhythm as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with heady abandon cashbox she finally came up for air.
After a series of unvoiced, unrestrained breaths, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me elbow room to stand up beside her and turn away her over the redact, with her articulatio genus together and her ass served up for the taking.
Wasting no meter, I knelt down and suppressed my face between her legs. I knew it was speculative. Still, I reached up and started to pull down her pantyhose and G-string.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked face, before palming them with both hands, then spreading them full open.
I dove in drumhead first, lodging my lingua deep inside her SOB and holding it there until her rectal muscleman started to declaration. She squealed from the moment of sudden intromission, mashing her cheeks firmly against my grimace. I kneaded the lissome flesh as my natural language slowly began wriggling deep inside the narrow fold. The brackish flavor deeply aroused me, worming my tongue in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the cushions as her anus started to glisten from all my saliva. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the audio of her groan, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might ingest been. I was starting to drop off all sense of reason, with no regard for how far I was starting to push my luck, instead pushing my tongue farther into the depths of her spongy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her purulent deluge until rationality had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no point left in her dickhead where my lingua hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the sharpness of cast, with her stage folded and her substructure lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a need to carry full advantage of my mother's hunger for perversion, I pulled out my putz and sandwiched it between her knee, gripping her thighs, with my hips sawing back and Forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both sides of my cock.
I pumped my dick between her knees, staring down at the wanton joy burning in her oculus. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, spun her around, and shoved my peter right between her thighs. Not once did she mouth a bingle ill as I stood there thrusting between her leg, blanketed with pantyhose on both sides.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her tycoon to secrete all of my pent up frustration. In that instant, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For age, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the Lapp wind obsession, as I grew up under the spell of nylon cast by the beauty of her shimmering leg.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my dick between her slick thighs furiously pumping back and Forth, only then was I truly able to see how fully she possessed my soul.
Eventually, the rising insistence building inside my balls rose to a stratum 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 snow-white white pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took storage area of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using lashings of spit as she generously slobbered the well up head. She then closed her finger around my putz, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistency as she gazed up into my eyes, giving clear instructions as she held my penis directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to look down and see zip except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. issue forth on, babe. Don't handgrip back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, sympathise ?"she whispered, spurring my release."These legs,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, baby,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. Make Mommy's pantyhose dainty and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the sound of her voice made it blindingly obvious I was wrong. Nothing felt more surpassing than hearing those words echo through my fountainhead with such serious-mindedness that my orb imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epos cum shower, sheeting down moving ridge after moving ridge, sparing no part of my mother's dead body, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the interior out, gaping as one furious blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the ken of cum oozing down not just her side, but also dripping from her wet sticky tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her finger through the oleaginous slime, smiling as she reached up to relish the salty residue, slurping it in her lip like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a present moment to get my mien, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the elbow room to stop spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."There's null 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 mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should fix for you."
Mom quirked her nous."You want to hit 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 century meter. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and tell her to fall by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me bonk. But first base, I should probably jump in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably measure out and have a butt first anyway,"I told her.
"audio good,"Mom said."In the meantime, delight think about cancelling that photo shoot with Artemis. I really think you're playacting with fire."
"Mom, I swear, naught 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 fashion model of self-control lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"wellspring, maybe not, but that isn't the item,"she said."We just found this place. And I know you like it here as a great deal as I do. Why would you need 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 reckon out dinner on my own.
It took me some clock time, still I managed to produce something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine-colored, then reached down to bravely exact her first bite.
The look on her cheek 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 ?"
"fountainhead, it's the thought process that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the backrest of my hand.
"Um, why don't we just go out to eat ?"I suggested."I know you've been wanting to try that Mexican place in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That place with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really short attire so you can show me off."
"perfective,"I said, smiling."Just don't blank out the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, trust me, sweetie. You'll be seeing me a lot of me in pantyhose from now on,"she replied."Just try not to tell anyone I'm your female parent when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I tell people if someone asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is secern 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 back talk, filling it with the afters taste of vino, before slowly pulling her sassing away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to think of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to put on. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal hussy, your very own flesh and blood fantasy. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to bring through all your cum just for me."

The End
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