sheepherder's Pie
By globe Angel

It all started when I was 10 eld old, the twelvemonth my parents got divorced, a formula age for a lanky, soft-spoken only fry to suffer his fixation with chiliad larceny Auto blindsided by his first crush.
I had just started third-year high, where they made us read boring stuff and nonsense like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too youthful to see the dangers of prevent lust, yet old enough to notice how my mother would often do the sexy things without knowing it.
Things might have 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 heels everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to spend all my discharge sentence with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more peculiar propensity.
She had an wide shoe collection, most of which were high dog. 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 house, by practicing in inconspicuous stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her sassing. When we went out to eat, she couldn't boozing anything without a shuck. If she was sitting at family grading papers, she'd sit there for hr sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football game every Billy Sunday, though she knew almost zero about play. She just enjoyed wearing her gibe tee shirt and a dyad of tights, rooting for whichever team had the cutest quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would lean down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The spirit excited me so much that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished high-pitched schoolhouse, I was so victimized to being by my mother's side that leaving for college less than an minute away filled me with highly shuffle emotions due to all the stick computer memory left behind.
By my third gear year at Emerson, the novelty of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each departure day, I was growing more lonely and homesick, with no miss and only a few male friends to facilitate kill the tedium.
One dreary good afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the Amytal, with the radical theme of finding a new apartment for us to subsist together.
Even at 42, my mother was still an incredibly striking fair sex, with longsighted, sleek, chestnut brown hair's-breadth, Pomaderris apetala centre, flat impertinence and tightfitting lips set between her ellipse 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 gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple prize, mostly for equilibrium beam. Still, she kept her body in tremendous shape, wearing trendy outfit that proudly displayed her pert bosom, tight ass, and just of all, her long, head-turning legs.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal persuasion, my mother was the live woman I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a full blown obsession. I tried my best to keep her from catching on to how often I fantasized about her. Yet, over the years, she started to worry that I seemed to have no interest in former missy.
I had just started college two year earlier, so the view of moving back in with my female parent initially felt like a step backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small-scale, chunky apartment. My roommate was a totality pig. Yet, in bitchiness of the headache, and as a good deal as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to make it on my own and part of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to expend my next-to-last year getting hammered every night and screwing as many co-eds as potential. At to the lowest degree, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in reality, I was still the Lapplander scraggy kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and form awkward jest around girls my own age, to the breaker point where even the ugly ones started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favorite pictures of her on my prison cell speech sound. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and nothing made me cum riotous than looking at movie of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as prospicient as I could think of I had always been captivated by my mother's legs. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up upshot planning to instruct marketing at a nearby community of interests college where the cleaning lady on faculty often wore pantyhose under their wench. By that time, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many geezerhood. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this basic chemical element of her day by day business concern attire distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and dimension of her retentive, sinuous legs.
Maybe it was genetic, or perhaps it was just puberty, but around that time, I became so fixated on my mother's legs that I started to question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the world-class place. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their mesmeric outcome immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this ordinary unmentionable was imbued with extraordinary powers luring my middle to linger over the slender tone of her lean, slender calfskin, moving up to the meaty flesh of her firm sculpted thighs, where her long, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the richness of her hip joint, topped by a set of delicious round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering togs of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very first meter that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one thing that never left me was an urgent impulse to depend down and gaze over the dazzling aura emanating from her wooden leg. From the bottom of all her short-circuit dame, down to the tips of her toes, each pair she wore had the power to enthral me with its own seductive sparkle.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at home waiting for her to take the air in and kick off her aphrodisiacal dog. My lackadaisical centre followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the warm freshness of her lustrous pantyhose, completely spellbound. The long I stared, the Sir Thomas More I became desperate to fertilise my growing fixation at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't unusual for me to pull out my camera and get her to personate for me out in populace. She'd always been the case of mother who gladly encouraged any hobbyhorse I developed, especially my growing interest group in photography. Eventually, I managed to accumulate 12 of film, all of which focused on her farsighted, gorgeous legs. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so young, not to cite being her son.
My favorite pictorial matter for jerking off were the ones that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before pedagogy, working in bodied America had given her many years to rise this particular skill. As a condition master, she was far too refined to admit one leg and carelessly flop it over the early.
Instead, with her head up and her perky breasts pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, broom her hands under her chick, then with total wing, riff out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, silken stem, the alcoholic form visible though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her lower thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her firm shapely calves in deliciously unadulterated alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the other, sweeping against the caryopsis, a thrilling sound that instantly made my dick throb 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 hottest woman on dry land. Her representative alone sent chills down my spine, with the utter diction and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly positive educator, with only the svelte trace of a typical New England accent.
Despite being over XL, her alimental diet and friendly demeanor gave her a youthful glow. She barely ate Sir Thomas More than two collation of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every dayspring. While it was clearly a positive degree matter, her intelligent modus vivendi only encouraged my physical attracter to bear on edifice and become more powerful each day.
Her bra size was an mediocre 34-B. Yet, her modest chest proudly stood out in line with her lilliputian waistline, jutting from the flimsy material of her tight blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working one mom, I had to imagine she still had pauperization. Yet, to my define knowledge, after the divorce, she had no men in her biography. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so very much time worrying if I was getting laid, she might cause had time to appointment. She should have had crack lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own taboo infatuation and my ever increasing lust for pantyhose.
I had already started loosening my belt, as I lied in bed, eager to stroke my cock. My phone started buzzing and Mom's cell number flashed up across the silver screen. The timing was horrendous as I'd just settled on one of her ripe pic, taken in multiplication Square. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a opprobrious miniskirt, black pumps, and a radiant pair of sunburn pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the video just as Mom walked over to pose next to a improbable New York street lamp. It was like she could read my thoughts as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only half visible under her long whisker, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty magnetic pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the tv camera, flexing her depart knee behind her back. She stood there holding the pose for several minute, with one shoe playfully lifted off the ground and a grinning on her face as brilliantly as the pantyhose on her pegleg.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the earphone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained earshot had failed to find the noisy jangle of belt, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something important I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her representative that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the net five minute drooling over her sexy exposure. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her dresser on my final trip household. 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 think about was taking her pantyhose, sliding them over my paw, then taking my silklike fingers and wrapping them gently around my turncock. Naturally, the Sir Thomas More she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My lease is up in two months,"she said."I just got a missive that my snag is increasing by almost 200 dollars. There's no way I can yield that."
"O.K.,"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 accept to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd flavour if I moved up to Boston."
At that picky consequence, I probably should have been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so full around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the chance to be up close and personal with her amazing wooden leg again.
"I understand if you need to consider about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it a lot thought myself. I'm just not surely what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to opine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random interrogation hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's lounge,"she said."I'm on my lunch faulting. Why ?"
"No grounds,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the image of her sitting there with her stage crossed, knowing the way she typically dangled one shoe off her foot, especially when she was stressed.
"You seem distracted,"she said."Is everything all right ?"
"Yeah, everything's fine,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that bring in thing well-off ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the real reason why I called. I know how you feel about your roommate. And I've never been crazy about the neighborhood you live in. So I was actually thinking of finding a decent place for the two of us."
It took me another moment to react. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the smoothen velvety texture of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers 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 meddlesome wondering what her liberal hand was doing as she sat there with one hand holding the phone. Was she gently rubbing her fingers over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many fourth dimension at plate ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her skid, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to get it on for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's lounge, in wide-cut view of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old sentence. I can always find oneself work at another campus. Plus we can find a place with more than space for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a intellection, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to give inside the oven. I could already see her doll riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a hint of her pantyhose inset peeking out between her legs.
"Hmm, I don't know,"I said, trying to keep myself from breathing too heavily while I kept beating off."I'll have to talk to Jimmy about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bail on my roommate, even if our lease was month to month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some background rules,"I added, when I started to agnize the freedoms I'd be giving up purely to see her peg every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to make up the ruler now, huh ? okey. Like what ?"
"Nothing major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll respect each other's privacy. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys habitation 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 grasp was nasty, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, More frail rubbing to my teasing hand solidus.
"I know. It's not that,"I said, clenching my fist."I'm talking about respecting each other's space."
"Oh, I see,"Mom answered."Like giving you space to smoke weed and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porno you have on your computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's naught you can hide from me."
"Mom, what the snake pit,"I said, voicing my annoyance."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her starting time reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to explain, parsing her quarrel carefully.
"Let's just say I've poked around a little bit,"she said."And if you don't mind me saying so, you really should get out more. You're very handsome. It doesn't make sense that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's stack of real women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tone that made me a wee bit uneasy."I never knew you had such a thing for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should preface you to some of the teachers here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the cerebration of her checking my reckoner behind my back, by then my caput was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the subject to something more stimulating."Did you like the new brake shoe I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a second, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The face lift in her interpreter told me she was smiling on the other end.
"You must experience been reading my mind,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nothing but wish all day. It was skillful telling everyone my son picked them out."
"cool,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch black strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't wait to see how they look."
"wellspring, you're in lot,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to expect at stead in the break of day. You should come with me."
"Mmm, I'd lovemaking to come,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds practiced. It's supposed to be nerveless tomorrow. You might require to weary something warm."
"Oh, I'll be fine,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jeans. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a duet,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your dungaree,"I repeated, resisting the itch to moan."I surmisal 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 amercement,"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 sure you tell Jimmy to fag some pants this time. It's a picayune ill at ease seeing your roomie with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a fiend."But then again, you can't really pick him. That bird you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was convention length. The skirt I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"Well that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you keep your students from hitting on you ?"
"Never said I did,"she answered."It's kind of flattering honestly, especially at my age."
"Stop it, Mom. You look groovy. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any former cleaning woman. We all like to hear it."
"Well, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my mother, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my penis was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your mother, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal moment. In 19 year, my female parent had never asked me a question as directly intimate as that. My balls were practically about to burst. My clenched fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to voice my unnatural desire to run my workforce over her indulgent silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy branch. Still, I somehow managed to respond with an answer intended to hide my dependable feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my frontal bone."This is starting to shoot a weird turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, tell me,"she added, with a cheek I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same time."Seriously, I want to know,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a massive eructation."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the one you look at on those dirty web site ?"
My consistence trembled. I honestly couldn't William Tell whether she wanted the truth, or whether she was just testing me.
"Really Mom, stop,"I said, assuming the latter."I don't think we should talk about this anymore."
"Okay, amercement,"she said."I wasn't trying to cook you uncomfortable. Just tell me one affair. Which region of a woman's soundbox do you like almost ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My full option was to agitate back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we dismiss it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't catch there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so hard if she hadn't already gathered the province I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, stop it. I can't deal this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes gumption, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's near that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this solid idea. It's bad enough you can't receive a girlfriend. I'd hatred to do anything that makes you palpate even more frustrated."
"spirit Mom, for the last clip,"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 groundwork in the grave accent ? Seriously, Chris, I'm worried about you, especially with this pantyhose juju I'm just now hearing about. You know I wear them all the time. I certainly don't want you having sexual cerebration about me. Surely, I don't have to severalize you how inappropriate that would be."
Of path she didn't. I'd known all along how unfitting it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't care. By then, I was pummeling my turncock with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to plume every thread with a massive wad of duncical oleaginous tinder, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the unerasable computer storage that triggered my hoodoo in the first place.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the mansion wearing sheer pantyhose with no annulus on. I could see her returning from employment in her black fuck-me pumps, the cold aroma of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her skid and asked me to rub her swollen feet. I could even picture the way she smiled as she walked down the street, articulatio coxae switching from side to side, pretending not to have a go at it how men spun toward the audio of her spiked heels clicking on the sidewalk, only to come home, discase off her pantyhose and carelessly pitch them in the hamper, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slid my tongue over the wet post, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My shocking memories pushed me right over the border. With each violent jet, I was forced to stifle my urge to moan, watching jet of semen blast into the air, surging from the promontory of my cock, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my hand, while my mother patiently waited on the early end, with no estimation what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my rash act, her pantyhose swimming in a kitty of cum.
Finally, I managed to roll up myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to untune you. Maybe we should just hang up now."
"No,"she said, softening her tone."Don't hang up. I know you were just being honest. I realize that's how I raised you. But before we make such an important decision, I think you should severalize me everything. secernate me the verity, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one hand, by saying no, she'd most likely sense that I was lying, which would only shit her wild and potentially baby any chance of us moving back in together. On the early mitt, telling the trueness would most likely freak her out so practically that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even regretful.
Normally, in situations like this, where I wasn't exactly indisputable what to do, the first matter I usually did was try to ideate what Mom would do if she was in my berth. That's when it hit me that the best way to respond her doubtfulness was to change state it around and ask her a interrogative sentence of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before cunningly attempting to redirect."But first off I'd like to get wind what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short circuit breath."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess up with your head. I think if we're going to hold out together, then you have to predict to find a girlfriend and take off living in the real domain. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"trade good,"she said."I'll see you in the break of the day. And don't forget to wreak back my pantyhose."
* * *
The side by side cockcrow, Mom showed up right on docket, in a form-fitting, black, V-neck perspirer, fairly low cut, with her first initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a silver gray necklace which failed to hold me from noticing the cleavage swelling over her dive neckline. Her blue weedy jeans sat low on her shapely hips, hugging every bender under skin-tight jean, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, Negro leather sandals, with sparse straps spanning over her naked feet.
Looking down at the cuff of her jeans, the number one thing I noticed was the raise up absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my unhurt Nox tossing and turning in anticipation 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 finally thing I wanted to do was call any excessive attention to it right hand away.
We stood there enjoying a warm hug, when my roommate, jemmy, promptly emerged from his room. The smile on his face told me he liked what he saw, as Mom reached over and greeted him with a polite handshake. For a few minutes, she and Jimmy stood there making small talk, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak 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 go twain of pantyhose with a sheer blackguard and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to rinse out the pair I'd taken from her dresser. So I promptly fished them from the pile of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. She then asked if I would give her a moment to put them on. So I quickly stepped out and waited for her out in the hallway.
She must hold been hurrying too a great deal to recognize that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the specialize gap, knowing it was wrong, yet still ineffective to tear my middle from watching her undress.
With her spinal column turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one brake shoe at a time, enjoying the pin-up sight of denim smothering her tight round coffin nail. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her zip fastener, then continued watching as her hands went up to her slope. She hooked her quarter round into the narrow girdle and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips side of meat to side. I fully expected to see scanty, or at least a thong, resisting the urge to gasp as she peeled down the jeans, revealing her naked ass. My cock instantly started to swell. Then she bent over, folding at the shank, presenting me with a gain view of her outer twat brim, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that Jimmy would take the air by and see me standing there at any moment. Still, my incredible fortune was too safe to pass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with anticipation as she wisely removed the jewelry from her fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her quick fingers rolled up the start leg. She then lifted her left foundation, then reached down and slid the ring of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slew the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee. She set down her bequeath foundation, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her good foot inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her supple thighs, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely hips under the straining waistband, making one final adjustment to parentage up the stitching along her constrict butt quip, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a tremendous layer of tan, glossy, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a pair of half-moons.
I could have got stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to quit while I was ahead, knowing she could turn around and entrance me at any moment.
I went back to the living way to find jimmy rolling a joint, which I'd come to expect as part of his dayspring procedure. The night before, he and I had sat down for a retentive public lecture where I'd delicately broken the news to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, Jimmy took it in tread, explaining that he had already been planning to move in with his girlfriend in a few week anyway. Fortunately, there were no arduous flavour between us, especially when I stopped to consider who my new roomy was soon to be.
import later, my lovely mother finally returned from my elbow room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the sight of pantyhose covering her fairly foot. I promptly turned and hurried toward the room access, hoping to shield my raging hard-on from her view. We left my apartment and set out to find our new situation, quickly escaping so Mom could avoid Jimmy staring at her ass, and practically cumming in his pants.
We made our way down to the car, where Mom got in behind the wheel and turned on the topical anesthetic eighties station. The Sung on the radio thankfully managed to calm down my erection as I route beside her, shifting my focussing toward the highly ironic lyrics.
"Every little thing she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to spend the succeeding duet of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, second floor walk-up, on a calm, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The house was owned by a young, newlywed twain named Book of Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first trading floor. Book of Joel was a successful declarer in the city. Cynthia was a former nursemaid turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birth to their first base child. Looking at Cynthia, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the size of her enormous tits which seemed to account for nearly half her trunk weighting, especially considering how short she was. If I had to guess, I would have said she was easily a G-cup…With a upper-case letter G, as in"Goddamn, those are some big tits !"
Compared to Mom, Cynthia was easily three or four inches shorter, as I stood at Mom's English and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost friends when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the same richly school as my female parent, only eight twelvemonth later.
Cynthia led us up to see the flat and we couldn't believe our centre. The topographic point had literally everything we wanted, high ceilings, hardwood flooring, with tons of space, including a enceinte eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and bread and butter elbow room area, divided by sliding double doorway. On the right was a small office, a small guest bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a small storehouse space, with a door to the backward porch, and stairs leading up to the noggin. The noggin had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two bedrooms, and a large master bath.
Mom and I signed the lease in a matter of days, agreeing to affect in by October 1st.
The move itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired movers to do by 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 hour. Sometime around noon, Mom figured I was probably hungry and realized we had no food. I offered to take off unpacking while she went out and got us some lunch.
I headed back down to the truck and pulled out a box labeled"Mom's bedroom."I carried the box upstairs, setting it down in her room, where I opened it and start removing the items inside. It was mostly packed with old books and photograph albums, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound journal which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty room and quietly cracked open the first page.
The first entry was dated November 7th, 2003. If retention served me correctly, it was only six calendar month after my parents'divorce.
The number 1 few ledger entry weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing house she'd worked at during her man and wife. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks notice. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for someone else, blaming it mostly on her own ambition when all Dad wanted was individual to a greater extent traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much happy with his new prize wife. So there really was zero else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the inaugural five or six pages, when matter started to find fault up a bit.
November 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with microphone Louis Henry 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 stop flirting with me ever since he heard I was back on the market, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to encourage him. It wasn't my decision to actuate the copier outside his office. I love how he always comes over and throw his pen on the story. It used to make water me uncomfortable, but now I just play along. At first, he would drop it and blame it right back up. Now he likes to loaf down there and stare at my peg for a piece. It's pretty funny to watch. Chris doesn't know it, but I've actually caught him doing the Same thing. He must really like my legs. I know he's my son and I should probably say something to him, but he's been through enough lately. The final stage thing I want to do is hinder him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about microphone. Kelly and Robin are throwing a bye company for me tomorrow night. Mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could narrate he liked it too. His dick got really hard when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the women in the berth. He probably thinks I'm succeeding. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
Nov 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollars on a blade new party dress and that son of a cunt didn't even indicate up. Oh well, his loss I guess. God knows there were mickle of other Guy there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra photographic print. Maybe I'll wear it again adjacent week. It was sort of odd being the center of attention, but I think I could get used to it. I know Robin was pretty jealous. I told her to stop buying me slam. Besides, no one puts stripper rod in a bar full of drunken woman expecting cipher to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my kitty-cat for everyone. I did wear pantyhose. I'm sure Mike would induce loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't intercept thinking about his cock. I really ask to get screw. I should probably place in a expert 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 last thing I want to observe is a huge cum stain on one of my satin flip-flop. I guess at some decimal point I'll have a talk of the town with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's penis. I really wish well his begetter were here…
I would let kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the room. I headed back on a lower floor trying to treat all the twisted mentation scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to enjoy getting care from younger men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The opinion of Mom willingly behaving like a strumpet really got me excited. I stepped out onto the back porch, where I lit up a cigarette, trying to chill out myself down.
The position from the hinder porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the pall were drawn on our new landlord's chamber windowpane downstairs. In the corner of the elbow room, I spotted an empty rocking chair, following to what looked like the railings on a baby's cribbage. I flicked my cigarette, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the baby in her arms. Even from such a in high spirits angle, it was virtually impossible to reckon down and see anything other than her humongous breast. The range reminded me of those IMAX pic where they show you the globe from space and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't aid smile at the easy amobarbital sodium button up sweater she was wearing. The material was stretched out so much it looked like she bought it from Baby Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro visible light, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already hornlike as piece of ass, as I watched Cynthia reach up and unsnap her bra from the front, letting her left hand breast flop through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's mouth over her self-conceited teat. My totally life story I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and forth. I've always preferred legs, but there was no denying the beauty of Artemis's phenomenal jugs. The size of her breasts reminded me of my sidereal day back at the pizza shop class, where we laid out the dough until it rose into soft, bout, flesh-colored agglomerate. The foresightful I watched, the More I found myself overjealous of her little boy and the blissful look on his face as he eagerly suckled his female parent's tit.
Just when my peter couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front room access. 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 shortsighted, heather gray, New England patriot jersey, with black spandex yoga pants, and a couplet of brown fur-lined boots. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no makeup, yet I still wanted to crouch her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get much done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's fine. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a dud sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the mickle of junk everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one president in the kitchen. The residual were all stacked in the dining room.
"Good interrogation,"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 place, while Mom leaned against the sideboard and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in battlefront of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her peg stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new base. Are you excited ?"
I would have answered, if only she hadn't chosen that demand moment to set her ass on top of my groin. The scowl on her grimace instantly told me she could feel how severely I was. I expected her to leap out right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this anguished look on her fount 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 song over again. Only this time, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the human face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focalise on was the smoothness of her leg covering as she pressed her ass firmly against my dick.
Intended for yoga, the leg covering felt more like velvety tights, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the touch. On the plus side of meat, the fabric was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her weaponry in front of her.
"Maybe you should tell me what you were really doing while I was gone,"she said in an accusing tone.
Still unable to look her, I lifted my sweaty palm tree and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her head."Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the sign of the zodiac like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that well-fixed. It takes time."
"okeh, maybe you're right,"she said."So in the interim, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just have to deal with it on my own."
"Fine,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the consistent thing to do in that situation would have probably been to stand up and go to my way. Instead of doing that, I chose to make light of the post, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was unforced to have got a mother wit of wit about the solid thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just rack up it out right here ?"
She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her pass back, sleeve folded as she glared at me through the narrow slits of her heart.
"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."
Her response hit me like a punch in the gut. My all adolescence was littered with mass calling me a wimp. I'd never been good at sports. In school, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in class. missy pointed and laughed at my scrawny form, knowing I was too wimp to fight down back. I'd been putting up with bully for as foresightful as I could think. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zip fastener, reached in and promptly pulled out my prick.
"Okay, prison term out,"Mom said, putting her script up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your pants, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip straight at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't watch ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a mild jape and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just ask me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is formula ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her read/write head to her dresser, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a abbreviated moment, she slowly raised her head up, responding with a short circuit nod, as she quietly answered."Fine, do what you want. I can't occlusive you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would have been well-to-do to quit right there. I could hold easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoking car and she'd obviously chosen to brush off her own pattern about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a place for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of mundaneness that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of sens."You're favorable I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my script's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a moment, startling me as she sprang up, with coffin nail in hired hand, as she marched back over toward the counterpunch. She flicked her butt, tossing it down the sinkhole, then reached over and opened her handbag, pulling out a small plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the president where I was sitting. Bottle in script, she leaned over the head of my prick, squirting out a generous clump of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"will that assistance ?"she said, with a smile on her face which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her sentinel as I slid my balled fist up to the top dog, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all side of meat, enabling me to enjoy the feel of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my rigid shaft of light, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my proficiency, imagining one day to feel her hand instead of my own. The flavour on her typeface lacked any form of locution, as if to prevent me from noticing any signaling of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really speed this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her hips."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could bend around and exhibit 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, fiddling boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I expect at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding articulation, with its air of implicit office, prompted the increased cycle of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I wait at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snort."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out LE than three column inch from my face.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."Tell me how dependable it looks."
"Mmm, so just,"I answered quickly."Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the sight of her black leggings stretched taut over the curve ball of her house shapely rump. She kept her metrical foot together, accentuating the slope where the little of her backbone arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight fabric, so amazingly round and wide, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, deluxe bubble.
"I'm glad you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. interpret ?"
"O.K.,"I whispered, losing my breathing place."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my hindquarters, expecting my female parent to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index fingerbreadth, directing me to stand in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her genu down on the wooden seat, keeping her leg together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her tight gluteus,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then show me,"she said."appearance me how horny you are right now. Let me feel it. Let me experience that hot load all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."
My knees buckled as the strait of her articulation nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to jerk off in our brand new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her total darkness yoga trouser ?
I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no hazard to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my rooster smack up against her arse, a forceful collision softened by the leging and the meaty flesh underneath, the sodding cushion for my throbbing penis to crunch against her smoothen, velvety rump.
She let out a panic-struck screeching, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her song protest as I violently started thrusting my hips back and Forth, viciously humping her from behind.
"No, Chris don't !"Mom cried."Chris, stop ! Oh my God ! Please don't do that !"
Of grade, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in riposte. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my cock. Her vox was raspy and out of breather, with her head forward, hair swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your tool is so toilsome. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me find your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so lots punk hail gushing out of my cock like a broken water primary. The force-out of each spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My nerve was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our trunk mashed together, the lingering champion of her soft cheeks pressed up against my stopcock milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching balls.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my understructure, the black leggings scatter over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick layer of white creamy foam, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist kitty-cat.
Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head.
"Umm, maybe you should go variety,"I said, clearing my throat.
For a s, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her finger through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good estimation,"she said, slowly rising to her foundation."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the following ten minutes, okay ?"
* * *
For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as much time to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking most of our things. Mom spent to the highest degree of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the living way hooking up our television and stereoscopic picture. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the lounge and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to come across some protagonist from school who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The following morning time, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty home. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for body of work. I'd woken up with barely enough time to grab a quick exhibitor, throw on some clothes and slipstream off to get to my morning grade. It wasn't like her to leave alone without waking me up. I started to vex that my jerky actions had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to grade, the fright of Mom telling me to move out made it virtually impossible to centre on anything else. I stared off into outer space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought process of going dwelling house, sealed of what was destined to occur.
My final form ended at noonday. Fortunately, before moving out, jemmy had kindly given me two ounces of Blue ambition. So I figured the proficient matter to do was go family, smoke a roll and have a dyad beers, just to fix myself for the foul modality my mother was sure as shooting to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the house, I instantly remembered my female parent's daybook, as I headed up to her way and luckily found it in the Lapplander box where I'd left it, right at the foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the shopping centre. I was sort of scared at number one, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to dismiss it rather than causing a picture. He was well dressed for a younger guy with a nice business organization suit like he could have been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my bottom, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my branch. I could have got up and found another keister, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and go along my stage crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye intellection he'd take the suggestion and go away. He must take thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a instant, 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 close me. I was kind of insulted, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not give him one just to fuck with his head. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee tree, turned my hip toward him, and slowly uncross my pegleg. I paused for a moment, holding them opened to prove him the Black person thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four meter, crossing my legs back and forth. Each clock time, I held my legs open for a second, letting him see up my bird. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to follow me down to the skid store.
I'd found a great slew on a melanize duo of jemmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a squeamish glossy finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my black lash, but nigh of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some sophisticate hold me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the terrace thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my legs open and my skirt 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 play free with his binding turned. At that point, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.
I reached the exit and turned around to see if he was still behind me. sure enough enough, he walked out with a grin on his typeface like he hadn't done anything awry. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could aid 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 womanhood's skirts. He said only charwoman who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to shoot me out for a boozing to see if he could alter my opinion. He looked a fiddling tempestuous when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly unmake my blouse, then told him to take out his pecker. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his shaft out. I spit in my palm, taking his cock in one hand, while using the other to slowly deplume up my bird. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the other to stroke his putz hard and fasting. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my ramification and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my second joint, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my dame, started the car and drove off without a one word…
The passage ended there, but the rousing effect lingered in my bright imagination longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without interrogative sentence my first clear evidence that the women who raised me and handed down all of my morals was unforced to rent in extreme, speculative, intimate behavior with seemingly any young man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the aspect and feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner adulteress, 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 non-white face, determined to see how far she was will to go to fulfil her deepest sexual desires.
One time of day later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the sports stadium I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footsteps coming up the stair. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my capitulum, as I walked toward the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Recalling my female parent's line, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his tool belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced country, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melon spilling out of a burnished orange tree satin nightie.
"trade good morning,"she said, over a trench yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled face, as I glanced down at her fuzzy pink slippers."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would cause come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, no trouble. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's cool. amount on in,"I said, pulling the doorway open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a wrench myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to focus on her face."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff…smoke alarm, radiator, bathroom sink, and one of the illuminate switches in the attic."
"No worry,"she said."sens alarm probably needs a new barrage fire. If the light source replacement isn't working, I'll have to assure Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Artemis had suddenly blonde hair, in one of those voguish bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely frame for the fullness of her one shot, chubby face. Knowing how critical some women are, she might experience described herself as overweight. In my opinion, the extra baby weight just made her attend more voluptuous. Her hips were fairly wide, yet her stomach was still pretty flat, with a couplet of incredibly huge disparager, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.
"Sorry if I'm a little under dressed,"she said, as she knelt down and bent over beside the radiator.
From that angle, as she leaned over to check the valves, there was no polite way to keep myself from staring down at her giant nozzle. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's titmouse reminded me of those ponderous pocketbook down at the gym, two of them, side of meat to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonders for her nipples too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orangeness satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half naked, I did my topper to relieve her gumption of urgency, hoping not to block her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave work until five or six. She's more sensitive to the cold than I am. My old flat was a good deal spoilt. Not to mention, we trust you."
"Well, I'm glad you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first off tenant since we bought this place…hate to begin off on the wrong foot,"she added."The radiator seems fine, must be a trouble with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's kind of clueless, so I need to get back and crack on the sister. I can fix it right after that."
"auditory sensation good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and check out the sump too. I just need to put on some real clothes."
"No charge, always good to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to get into a little more future time, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her nightdress had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a little distracting,"she said, tugging on the straps, a useless endeavour to handle up, making her knocker meat jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to keep my orb inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the doorway, she paused in front of the billet, pointing to the television camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that serious, but it's always been a hobby. When I was young, I had this dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like maxim or man-about-town,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's assuredness,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up way. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just struck me as more…I don't know, conservative, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a mitt Romney bumper sticker, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"wellspring, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the more Cynthia reminded of the girls I knew back in high school, the one who'd been spoiled since birth and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy disposition, worthy in this case considering her copious bosom.
"William Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."future month is our second anniversary. I wasn't sure what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really savor some nice glamour snapshot, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her marriage. Still, I couldn't ignore the pernicious toying of this despairing housewife or the rapidly growing erection in my knickers.
"Umm, certain, I could help you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss press and direct some exam pellet, but otherwise, I should own everything we need."
She then wasted no meter stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the wall and slowly proceeded to peel down the in good order strap of her nightdress, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the light in here work for you ?"
"I'll use the heartbeat,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the here and now the television camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her lack of shyness, never expecting so much trust in front of the lens system. The innocent, plucky woman of the house who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering prickteaser, with two perfectly pouting lip and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the induce effect of her steamy low-spirited centre. Yet, the sultry aspect on her face, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her arms together, thrusting her tits toward the television camera like dual airbags, completely filling up the frame with more cleavage than my psyche 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 hired hand, Ieading her into the dining room, where I then helped her climb up onto the table.
She didn't need a great deal instruction as she stretched out, extending her ramification, with her head tilted back, and her chest pointed up toward the cap.
"idea if I ask you a personal question,"I asked, as she shifted over to her entrust side, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to know how big they are."
"Well, yeah,"I said,"not to be rude or anything. They look amazing. I was just curious."
"Thank you,"she said."They used to be smaller before I got pregnant. Once I started nursing they shot up to a 38FF. But it varies."
"Wow,"I said, staring in awe."Do they anguish your vertebral column ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two gallons of milk strapped to your chest. It kind of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head teacher."But what about your nipples ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Cynthia nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use pattern, to a greater extent nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My bosom Milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than unconstipated Milk. I try to eat lots of fruit to make it honeyed. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."well, I know you have to go. I'll upload these moving-picture show and see which angles work best. Let me get laid when you have time for a full photo shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something damage ?"I asked."If you need clock 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 voice combined with her level regard gave me a airheaded feeling as I set down the photographic camera, then pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed things couldn't possibly get weirder, this charwoman I barely knew was offering to let me try out her boob milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the mo I saw her, my number one impulse was to bury my face between her chest and motorboat those melons until I passed out.
My initial shock prevented me from speaking after hearing her offer out loud. Still, there must have been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a short queer.
She seemed to bask teasing me as her rightfield handwriting slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her pull up stakes shoulder strap. Sweat beads formed across my brow as she fixed her eye on me and quietly peeled down the other. My oculus concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her monumental chest, where Cynthia reached up and thrillingly set her hands to patiently still down the shiny textile. Finally, with a clod in my pharynx, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to force out her enormous jugs.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't bottom how a womanhood so small could end up with titmouse that big. Each one was bombastic than my forefront and must have weighed at least ten Ezra Pound, as I sat there entranced by the sizing and shape of these two gigantic globes, hovering column inch from my boldness. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely unruffled, with stretchability marks along both side of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's teat were far too heavy to miss the effect of solemnity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the diffused tissue really started to jiggle.
Needless to say, I was totally stunned as Cynthia pulled her tits out for all their glory, thrusting them at me and smiling from ear to ear like all she wanted was for me to know how lofty she was of her huge 38FFs.
session in the chairperson, my eyes were level with her pink pap, sprouting invitingly from the raised aerofoil of her dark areolas, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her curve finger, stopping me when I leaned in too closing.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, surface wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed orders, leaning my head back, then parting my backtalk open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her thumb and forefinger on each position of her good mamilla. Then, using calorie-free pressure level, she slowly brought them together in a gradual pinching motion. The first 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 mouth. I instantly closed my eyes, compelled by the need to sunburn this moment deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to reanimate something buried in my subconscious. The sweet, tangy liquidity filling my unfold oral cavity magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a moment, giving me time to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my mouth. My eyes opened just in sentence to see her lifting her other breast, which soon began streaming milk over my glossa as well.
As Artemis continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my glossa through the fond nectar, letting the feel seep into every nook of my mouth, tingling my taste buds, as the world around me faded into a distant blur.
"Someone seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."undecomposed matter I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really prize your assistance with the movie. But I should probably head back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's mulct, whenever,"I said, trying my beneficial 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 giving than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't help myself from testing the waters just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you experience about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those thing. They made us wear them all the fourth dimension at the infirmary. You know, like those ugly white compaction hose. It makes me spoil just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a supporter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an musical theme too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nurse's outfit, with Andrew Dickson White heels and slick magazine white hosepipe. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just make me see good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the room access. She left me with a brief hug and a soft candy kiss on the cheek, as I closed the door, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the fourth dimension Cynthia left, I felt like a add up living dead. My shaft was so voiceless I could barely walk, like all the blood in the rest period of my body had instantly rushed down to my throbbing crotch. I desperately needed some character of button, as I slowly crawl back upstairs, looking to find Mom's journal once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the wintry air, as I picked up the journal and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and take the date of her in vogue introduction. My bureau heaved the moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to acknowledge 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 go on too. In my mind, the possibility was so tantalizing that the forestall inflammation of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that point, I wanted a way to make the second even better. I wasn't sure where the thought came from, maybe from being in such a cold way. Or maybe it was just my instinctive instincts taking over as I walked over and pulled open air my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find oneself a sumptuous raft of high quality women's hosiery, in a multitude of colouring material, patterns and thickness stage. I studied the deal, breathing heavily over the Bounty of nylon undergarment spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose sideboard. I rummaged through the pile, searching until my hands came across a feather igniter pair of silky, midnight inkiness pantyhose brushing against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my dungaree and underwear, before nervously sitting down to act upon out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to screw up my way through it, taking instructions from the retentivity of watching Mom put them on under her jeans. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knee, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my cock and balls. My dick stood up like a flag pole as I stretched the delicate threading to its limit point, drawing the girdle respective inches away from my navel point while I reached down and held the shaft flat up against my stomach. That first moment of total encasement from the waist down filled my unharmed torso with tingling electricity. I wasn't certainly why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own smooth legs took me to a level of agitation I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my penis beneath the fabric, making me feel right at home.
Ready to start recital, 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 anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a wonder I didn't instantly blow my load as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering result of the weed, sent me into a dreamlike nation 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 help look responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting older and he's basically get enough to make his own decisiveness. Still, it's obvious he has certain trend that are far too grave to look out over. I was able to look past the piercings and the tattoos. I could even ignore all the pot he smokes and his disturbing appetence for pornography. But how can I possibly ignore this gonzo obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animal. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those matter. It's hard 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 history, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own flesh and stock. What kind of mother would I be to let him think what he did was okay ? It doesn't count how much I enjoyed it. There's nix amiss with enjoying the spirit of person 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 assurance to commit it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a distance it was a pretty decent size, surprising in fact. His body has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so aggressive lately. I wish there was individual I could talk to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him find someone, just to get his intellect on something else ? God, this is unhinged. I missed him so much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can figure out this out, as long as I'm able to control myself better that he can. suppose we'll just have to wait and see…
As I finished the passage, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut my eyes, letting her tidings rematch in my psyche, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of keys jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quartern past five. Mom was already house. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my way with no prison term to take off her pantyhose. I threw on some jeans, slid on a dyad of socks, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as tranquillize as I could.
"You're domicile early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a flock of debris ring armor, as I noticed a bag of grocery store resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning nerve forward with a promptly smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her stylish greyish business suit. The gloss was a little drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off right wing above mid-thigh, leaving more than than sufficiency leg on exhibit where I could briefly pause to gaze over the neutral people of color of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her white leather heart.
"Sorry, probably smoked too very much,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner ?"
"fountainhead,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to empty the bag."Since it's our first official home-cooked meal in our new property, I went out and got stuff to work shepherd's pie."
The looker Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with onion plant, carrots, ground lamb or beef, topped by a layer of creamy mashed murphy. It was also an inside antic among our family.
Shepherd was the figure Mom took when she got married, the gens she'd kept after the divorce so her last name would still be the same as mine. Mom could cook almost anything, but her shepherd's pie was normally reserved for natal day and early special occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the dependable china ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your sire and I had the same matter for dinner when we moved into our low gear property. I figured since you're the new man of the star sign, I should make it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty good. For a second, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that sunrise, I was fully expecting her to be highly disorder 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 brass was so open and wax of affection that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the way. In that moment, I could only assume that Mom had made the conclusion to move on like cipher had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter head on, I did my safe to brush off the stress between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my silence, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the elbow room. She must take in picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my head as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her limb around my cervix. Her perfume smelled like mint candy candy as her hazel tree centre cut right through me. Her long, steady gaze calmed me to the point where the panic inside me gradually started to fade away.
"Why are you so tense up ?"she said, massaging between my neck opening and shoulders.
"Not certainly,"I said,"just been a strange yoke of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been pretty squeamish,"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 lips. It wasn't long a osculation, more like a mickle. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't palpate 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 meter. It means so lots that you're willing to present up your freedom to subsist with your loony, old mom. I want you to know no matter what happens, you're still my son and I'll always love you."
It was all I could do not to grab her and osculate her as tough as I could. The twinkle her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull out away, as I boldly prepared to tilt in and squeeze my brim firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a mo, quickly eye blink, trying to collect my thoughts. In hindsight, perhaps I should stimulate lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her chest, with a mild grin on my face, as I calmly proceeded to excuse how Cynthia had stopped by earlier, noticed the photographic camera in the office and thought it would be sang-froid to give Book of Joel some sexy photos for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would translate it was all in fun, but the frown on her face immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem flighty about it,"she said, quirking her read/write head to the slope."Are you certainly she just wanted delineation, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her body felt like she was bracing for a major shock. Her oculus 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 tranquillize as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the babe,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the matter of boob 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 resolution the minute I turned away. Before I could hold on her, she angrily pushed me back, turned to her left and promptly marched down the hall.
"What are you doing ?"I said, chasing her toward the dining room.
"Deleting those pictures before Joel hears about this,"she said."The utmost thing we need is a reason for him to throw us out."
As I entered the dining room, Mom had already picked up the camera and powered it on. I came up behind her reaching for it, as she scanned through the flick one at a time.
I could hear the trauma in her vox as she looked down and studied the pictures with disbelief.
"Why would you do this ?"she whispered.
"Mom, it's nothing,"I said."You know that I've always wanted to do this for a life. It's just a way to start my portfolio."
Slowly, she turned around, head down, as I reached up and held her by the shoulders. The whisker falling over her face made it hard to see her saying, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her articulatio humeri, trying to console her.
Finally, with tears welling in her middle, she looked back, voice trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning of lightning. Without thinking, I lunged forward and kissed her with more mania than a soldier returning from war. Her lips parted, surprisingly accepting my clapper, returning my lust-filled explosion with the Saame acute urgency.
We stood there feverishly making out with each other for God knows how long. Our hands roamed everywhere, groping each other's bodies in a wild frenzy. The wonderful texture as I ran my fingers through her slick brown hair, combined with the thrill of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my stopcock, stirred me to arrive at down and jostle both hands under her skirt, running my workforce over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apology, as I boldly switched between sliding my fingers over every column inch of that silky nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her lithesome buttock yielding to the force per unit area of my clenching fingers, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy hind end through a thinly bed of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to contain her, knowing the mysterious inside my dungaree. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to reach down and grab her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the unmanliness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to stop my hands from steadily caressing her hose-covered hip joint and thigh, as she urgently reached through my open zipper, trying in vain to finger my shaft, only to be blocked by a brace of her very own pantyhose, gasping in shock.
There was nix I could say, as she looked up and squinted at me once again. As I felt her fingers softly caress me through me through the nylon, a present moment of silent realization passed between us, where placing her helping hand against the still, dark fibers of the pantyhose secret inside my jean opened a portal leading to the shadows of tabu sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her digit over the abstract of my bulging jibe. I could hardly think my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly begin rubbing and squeezing my erection through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."fountainhead, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasance of her delicate ghost, with her fingers gliding over the ridges of my stiff, pulsating shaft, sparkle as a feather, never stopping to seem up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak maculation, while brushing the tips of her finger against my sensitive glans.
My answer described the feeling of both her bridge player and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying esthesis, letting the pleasure absorb through my crotch, spreading through every cell of my body, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little cockeyed, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her phonation returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a little constraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do deliver to say one thing. I can't deny my feelings 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 entail ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one dance step at a time."
"That's fine,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my fetish is effective enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't spill far from the tree."
With her blank cad still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my scape, bending her articulatio genus and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a grating motion, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the press inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our body to fuse together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the core she was having on me.
"Best feel in the world,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm surely 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 pass of her hair, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining table.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her heels together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the hump of her ass pushed back against her chick, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the slide fastener. With one hand on each side of her doll, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the floor, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her behind. The nylon ascendence top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even lily-white than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a goodness angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond practiced,"I said, shaking my head.
"withdraw a picture, it'll last longer,"she said.
I heeded her words promptly, leaning over to pick up the camera where she'd left it on the story. She patiently waited, holding the same pose, as I did my in force to keep my hands sweetheart, fighting through wonky nerves.
I shifted the electron lens vertically, wanting to capture the full reference of her legs, ensuring her heels were visible in the frame. My inflammation was so overpowering I could barely maintain my concentration. The embodiment of all my illusion stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was hard physical evidence straining under the pressure of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct delectation of our forbidden stimulation by the seductive personal manner 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 prostrate spatial relation beautifully emphasized the curvature of her ass, while the lean brawn of her pegleg seemed to elongate even more.
From there, she returned to an upright position, turning to confront the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the hind end. She flipped her hair, striking another affectedness, letting her sport coat coast down over her left articulatio humeri. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't helper watching the motion of her manus rubbing back and Forth River against her leg. She seemed to savour feeling the fabric 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 sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with braid semi-circles covering the lower half of each boob, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring voluminousness of her bust, setting her tits high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was persona of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut G-string of the same lacy framework and color. She didn't wait long to shift into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the board, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the camera and focused on the Elwyn Brooks White heel dangling from her leave behind understructure.
Finally, with her shoes still on, she leaned all the way back, keeping her legs perfectly straight as she lifted them up, holding them together, with her cad pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her head to the right field, snapping another picture with her pegleg 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"formation, where she reached down and placed her impart handwriting over the cotton fiber panel between her legs. I held up the camera for one go mannerism, framing the final shooting so her face was centered between her open legs, as she scrunched her eyes together, parted her sassing, and bit down on one of her brass knuckles, feigning an saying of orgasmic seventh heaven which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so oblige that I instantly tore off everything including my socks. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open arms. Our lips melted together as I rushed my deal down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thigh with her stage wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her neck, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me sufficiency room to give up and fondle her tit. She let out a moan as my finger made contact with her well nipples, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with ecstasy.
By then, my member was begging for going. Still, I wasn't sure how far she was willing to go. I tested the waters by gently easing her off the table, spinning her around, then pressing my aching erection flat up against her stub. She leaned back, keeping our steaming mouthpiece bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one paw firmly attached to her breasts, I took the other and slid it down over her stomach, wedging my fingers inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her pussy with my middle digit. Her lips parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the decisive term of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to swivel as I pulled out my finger and lightly proceeded to rub her clit.
Within second gear, she was panting heavily. Her unhurt soundbox started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to shake even more. For once in my spirit, I was actually in ascendency, using my finger's breadth to work Mom's pussy into a effervescing lather.
"Are you ready to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her answer came with a series of conniption and stutters as she reached up and grabbed me by the hair.
"Huhhh, yes, oh God ! Oh God, I'm cumming. Yes, I'm cumming !"
From there, I heard nothing but a long, steady groan. Her side grimaced as her oral cavity flung subject, moaning and wailing through violent shudder vibrating against my cock. Her heft up hint gradually became more normal as the scent of her ardent juice permeated the room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the current of verboten lecherousness, we hastily made our way toward the animation room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the cushions. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her handwriting against my rooster.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under plastered, restrictive bondage.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my balls, aiding the flow rate of watery liquid as her paw continued its journey along my slam. Grabbing the waistband, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my phallus feel the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling her warm breather around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a leech. I could barely locomote as she calmly proceeded to rake the tip of her tongue along the veiny rooftree, patiently licking it all over, bathing my cock with spit.
I moaned as she gently took clutches of my putz, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her spit to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her font as she quietly jerked me off. Her oculus widened as the shaft extended under her adept manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my reactions as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my penis, quietly bonding like it was more attached to her that it was to me.
I had learned my object lesson from the day before, choosing to be affected role, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you take care if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could have put apparel pins on my pap and that would have been amercement. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch, swinging her ramification up to stay them against my groin. Bending her articulatio genus, she nestled both pes around my pecker, placing the shaft between her delicate soles, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arches softly continued to jerk me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me first foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the feeling of her pes covered in nylon sweeping up and down my peter or just the mind that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't acknowledge how I was able to keep myself from nutting all over her feet right then and there.
"That's a trade good boy. Let Mommy jerk you off with her feet,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your shaft, don't you ?"
I honestly couldn't speak. I was too busy trying not to cum. I wanted to hold out as long as possible, never wanting it to end.
victimisation her strong leg muscular tissue with pertinacity, she continued pumping her metrical foot up and down my cock until it turned empurple. 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 head and lowered her crotch smack down against my face.
She must have intended to strangle my moan as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my cock, then swallowed well-nigh of it straight down her throat. With one paw around it, her point started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My pelvic arch started bucking and writhing off the lounge as she noisily sucked me with her eager mouth. Meanwhile, my face was smothered between her legs, where all I could breathe was the air venting through the nylon smashed up against my nose. She literally started humping my expression as I felt her saliva dribble down, leaving warm puddles around my ballock, all the while maintaining a steady rhythm as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon till she finally came up for air.
After a series of hard, frenetic breaths, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to stand up beside her and deflect her over the couch, with her stifle together and her ass served up for the taking.
cachexy no time, I knelt down and smothered my side between her legs. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to pull up down her pantyhose and thong.
"What are you doing ?"she said, somewhat fearful.
"You'll see,"I said, exposing her naked cheeks, before palming them with both manus, then spreading them all-inclusive open.
I dove in oral sex first, lodging my glossa deeply inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract. She squealed from the bit of sudden insertion, mashing her face firmly against my human face. I kneaded the supple shape as my lingua slowly began wriggling recondite inside the narrow crease. The briny tone 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 spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it clean. From the sound of her moans, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might have got been. I was starting to lose all sense of intellect, with no regard for how far I was starting to push my fortune, instead pushing my tongue farther into the profundity of her spongelike butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to make her kitty-cat flood until ground had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no patch left in her asshole where my knife hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the edge of couch, with her legs folded and her feet lifted off the level.
Possessed by a need to take wax vantage of my mother's hunger for sexual perversion, I pulled out my cock and sandwiched it between her knees, gripping her thighs, with my hips sawing back and forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both sides of my cock.
I pumped my pecker between her articulatio genus, staring down at the wanton pleasure burning in her eyes. I savagely continued thrusting until finally it wasn't enough. Then I stood her up, reel her around, and shoved my cock rightfulness between her thighs. Not once did she talk a 1 ailment as I stood there thrusting between her legs, blanketed with pantyhose on both face.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's meekness was actually demonstrating her power to release all of my pent up foiling. In that instant, it suddenly became realise that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For years, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same wrick fixation, as I grew up under the magical spell of nylon hurl by the stunner of her shimmering leg.
Finally, with my hands locked firmly around her waist, driving my cock between her satiny second joint furiously pumping back and Forth River, only then was I truly capable to see how fully she possessed my soul.
Eventually, the rising pressure edifice inside my balls rose to a level much too powerful to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my word of advice, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her white ovalbumin pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took hold of my turncock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using mickle of spitting as she generously slobbered the swollen head. She then closed her fingers around my scape, tightening her fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistency as she gazed up into my eyes, giving absolved instructions as she held my member directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to search down and see cipher except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. Come on, baby. Don't clench 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, infant,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. make Mommy's pantyhose nice and wet. Cum all over my jolly legs."
In that moment, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the sound of her interpreter made it blindingly obvious I was incorrectly. Nothing felt more transcendent than hearing those Logos echo through my head with such sincerity that my balls imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epic poem cum shower, sheeting down wave after wave, sparing no part of my mother's body, as she sat there stroking without lull, draining me from the inside out, gaping as one raging clap followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the stack of cum oozing down not just her face, but also dripping from her wet steamy tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thigh, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her fingerbreadth through the greasy slime, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty rest, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a consequence to get my carriage, leaning against the arm of the sofa as I patiently waited for the room to blockade spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still officious cleaning the pasty picture off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her lips."There's nothing better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a flash."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm good,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should wangle for you."
Mom quirked her foreland."You want to take a crap dinner party ?"she asked, raising an eyebrow."Are you trusted you know how to make it ?"
"I'm sure I can manage. I've seen you make it a hundred times. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll text Cynthia and tell her to come by tomorrow. If you need any help, just let me know. But first, I should probably start in the shower."
"Go right ahead. I'll probably dance step out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"auditory sensation just,"Mom said."In the lag, delight retrieve about cancelling that photograph shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're playacting with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will materialize,"I said."You can bank me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I intrust you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the manikin of self-command lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"wellspring, maybe not, but that isn't the point,"she said."We just found this place. And I know you like it here as a great deal as I do. Why would you want to lay on the line losing it so soon ?"
"mulct, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to figure out dinner party on my own.
It took me some time, still I managed to produce something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the tabular array. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine-coloured, then reached down to bravely direct her foremost raciness.
The spirit on her expression as she slowly began to chew immediately told me something was wrong.
"Umm, did you season this ?"Mom asked.
"Uh yeah,"I said, frowning at her reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"Well, it's the thought that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the binding 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 topographic point in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right field,"she said."That place with the big margaritas and the salsa terpsichore. I'll even wear one of my really short dress so you can shew me off."
"perfective,"I said, smiling."Just don't leave 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 evidence anyone I'm your mother when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit confused."So what should I evidence multitude if mortal asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smiling."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is assure them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her glass, whispering her answer as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering kiss, sliding her tongue inside my oral fissure, filling it with the afters taste of wine, before slowly pulling her back talk away.
"Technically, I'm still your female parent,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to suppose of me as your girl. I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own frame and rake illusion. And I promise to never arrest wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to deliver all your cum just for me."

The End
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