Shepherd's Pie
By Earth Angel

It all started when I was 10 years old, the yr my parents got divorced, a normal age for a lanky, soft-spoken only youngster to have his obsession with 1000 Theft auto blindsided by his first crunch.
I had just started Jr high, where they made us read boring stuff like Romeo & Juliet, though I was too young to sympathise the dangers of foreclose lust, yet old enough to acknowledge how my mother would often do the sexiest things without knowing it.
thing might have been unlike had my mother been more willing to let me out of her mass. Instead, I was treated more like a pet, expected to literally follow at her heel everywhere she went. Naturally, by forcing me to expend all my free metre with her, it wasn't long before I started observing some of her more queer tendencies.
She had an broad shoe collection, about of which were gamey heels. She loved wearing heels so practically that even when she took them off, I'd often catch her walking around on her tiptoes, like she was purposely training her leg muscles around the house, by practicing in invisible stilettos.
No matter what she was doing, she always seemed to need something inside her mouth. When we went out to eat, she couldn't crapulence anything without a straw. If she was sitting at home grading papers, she'd sit there for hours sucking on the end of a pen. She watched football game every Billy Sunday, though she knew almost nothing about athletics. She just enjoyed wearing her accommodate New Jersey and a pair of tights, rooting for whichever team had the cutest quarterback.
Whenever I got lint in my eye, she would be given down, pout her lips together and gently blow until it was gone. The feeling excited me so a good deal that I eventually found myself actually looking forward to it.
By the time I finished high school school, I was so used to being by my mother's side of meat that leaving for college less than an minute away filled me with highly mixed emotions due to all the amazing memories left behind.
By my tierce year at Emerson, the fallal of living away from home had worn off almost completely. With each passing game day, I was growing more alone and homesick, with no girls and only a few manlike friends to help defeat the boredom.
One dreary afternoon, my mother called me completely out of the blue, with the radical idea of finding a new apartment for us to hold out together.
Even at 42, my female parent was still an incredibly striking woman, with recollective, flowing, chestnut John Brown fuzz, hazel eyes, plane cheeks and skinny back talk set between her oval chin and the downward tip of her nose.
At 5'6 ”, 120 lbs., she'd fully outgrown the red leotards from her glory days of heights schooling gymnastics, where she'd collected multiple trophies, mostly for balance shaft. Still, she kept her physical structure in terrific SHAPE, wearing trendy getup that proudly displayed her pert breasts, tight ass, and best of all, her long, head-turning leg.
To put it bluntly, in my own personal feeling, my mother was the raging adult female I'd ever seen. I jerked off thinking about her so much that it soon developed into a wax botch up 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 occupy that I seemed to have no interest in early girlfriend.
I had just started college two years earlier, so the idea of moving back in with my mother initially felt like a footmark backwards. Admittedly, I was living in a small, dumpy apartment. My roommate was a total slob. Yet, in maliciousness of the headaches, and as much as I missed seeing her every day, I'd still managed to survive on my own and constituent of me had gotten used to fending for myself.
At 19, I was eager to spend my junior twelvemonth getting hammered every night and screwing as many college girl as possible. At to the lowest degree, that's what I'd always imagined college would be like. Though in realism, I was still the same weedy kid from Rhode Island, with a tendency to fidget and pretend awkward jokes around girls my own age, to the power point where even the ugly one started avoiding me.
The day Mom called I was in lying in bed going through my favourite pictures of her on my cadre phone. I never knew when I might get the sudden urge to rub one out and goose egg made me cum faster than looking at pictures of my gorgeous mom, even fully clothed.
For as tenacious as I could remember I had always been captivated by my mother's leg. When Dad left, because of all the travel, she gave up issue planning to instruct marketing at a nearby community college where the adult female on stave often wore pantyhose under their chick. By that prison term, for all I knew, Mom had been wearing pantyhose for many years. Yet, it wasn't until she started teaching that I really began noticing how this basic element of her casual stage business attire distinctly brought out the remarkable beauty and dimension of her tenacious, sinuous leg.
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 call into question why I was so helplessly drawn to them in the first station. As flawless as they looked by themselves, their hypnotic impression immediately doubled whenever I saw her in pantyhose.
It was as if this average undergarment was imbued with extraordinary big businessman luring my eyes to dawdle over the limber tone of her lean, slender calfskin, moving up to the meaty build of her firm sculpted thighs, where her yearn, shapely legs gradually expanded leading to the fullness of her rose hip, topped by a set of delectable round asscheeks beautifully encased under sheer, shimmering ribbon of nylon.
Though I'd long forgotten the very first prison term that I noticed Mom wearing hose, the one matter that never left me was an urgent impulse to look down and gaze over the fulgent aura emanating from her legs. From the bottom of all her short chick, down to the tips of her toes, each brace she wore had the magnate to enthrall me with its own seductive light.
Not a single day went by where I wasn't sitting at rest home waiting for her to walk in and kick off her sexy heels. My dreamy oculus followed as she tiptoed around the house, lost in the warm up glow of her bright pantyhose, completely spellbound. The long I stared, the more I became desperate to flow my growing compulsion at all cost.
Growing up, Mom and I traveled quite a bit. Wherever we were, it wasn't unusual for me to extract out my camera and get her to pose for me out in public. She'd always been the case of female parent who gladly encouraged any hobby I developed, especially my growing interest group in photography. Eventually, I managed to collect dozen of painting, all of which focused on her long, gorgeous ramification. I was certain she never suspected what I actually did with her pictures after she went to bed, considering I was so untested, not to observe being her son.
My favourite characterization for jerking off were the ace that involved Mom sitting down and crossing her legs. Before education, working in corporate America had given her many year to develop this finical skill. As a rail professional, she was far too elegant to take one leg and carelessly flop it over the other.
Instead, with her point up and her perky bosom pointed straight out, she'd gracefully sit down, drag her work force under her chick, then with full extension, flick out one leg, flexing the tip of her shoe, as she leisurely elevated her long, satiny stem, the alcoholic conformation seeable though the pantyhose, as she draped it ever so gently across her depressed thigh, all this in one rousingly fluid motion, seamlessly merging her house shapely calves in deliciously perfect alignment, as I stood there completely riveted, listening as one leg brushed up against the early, sweeping against the caryopsis, a thrilling sound that instantly made my tool throb hearing that subtle swish.
oceanic abyss down, I knew it was wrong. Still, I often tried to convince myself that it wasn't so unusual to see my mother as the blistering cleaning woman on solid ground. Her vocalism alone sent chills down my rachis, with the double-dyed diction and dignified restraint of a well-trained, highly confident pedagogue, with only the slightest trace of a typical New England speech pattern.
Despite being over forty, her alimental dieting and well-disposed behavior gave her a vernal radiance. She barely ate more than two bites of anything, loved yoga, and jogged two miles every good morning. While it was clearly a positive affair, her healthy modus vivendi only encouraged my forcible draw to continue building and go more powerful each day.
Her bra size of it was an average 34-B. Yet, her small-scale chest proudly stood out in line with her petite waistline, jutting from the flimsy material of her loaded blouses and low-cut tops.
Despite being a hard-working undivided mom, I had to imagine she still had want. Yet, to my limited knowledge, after the divorcement, she had no men in her animation. Perhaps, if she hadn't spent so much time worrying if I was getting laid, she might give birth had time to engagement. She should hold had offers lined up considering how hot she was. But then again, I might have been somewhat biased by my own disallow infatuation and my ever increasing lecherousness 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 concealment. The timing was painful as I'd just settled on one of her better word-painting, taken in Times second power. She had on this beautiful, wine-colored blouse, with a smutty miniskirt, black pumps, and a beamy pair of suntan pantyhose gleaming in broad daylight.
I snapped the pic just as Mom walked over to impersonate following to a tall New York streetlight. It was like she could take my thoughts as she suddenly stepped over and purposely draped her arm around it. Her face was only half visible under her foresighted whisker, as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the rusty pole. She rotated just enough to smile toward the tv camera, flexing her allow knee behind her back. She stood there holding the affectedness for several s, with one shoe playfully lifted off the ground and a grinning on her boldness as burnished as the pantyhose on her legs.
"Hey Mom,"I said, holding the headphone up to my ear, as I leaned back hoping her well-trained hearing had failed to detect the noisy jingle of belt, which I'd tried to unbuckle as quietly as I could.
"Hey Chris, got a minute ?"she said quickly."There's something important I need to ask you."
There was something urgent in her voice that told me it must be serious. Still, I'd just spent the last five minutes drooling over her sexy exposure. I'd even pulled out a pair of pantyhose I'd recently stolen from her vanity on my finish head trip place. 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 manus, then taking my silky finger and wrapping them gently around my shaft. Naturally, the more she talked, the quicker I found myself doing just that.
"My term of a contract is up in two months,"she said."I just got a varsity letter that my rent is increasing by almost 200 clam. There's no way I can afford that."
"okeh,"I answered, trying to refocus, as I slowly began stroking myself with her stolen hose.
"No, it's really not sanction,"she said."I'm going to have to move out. I was actually wondering how you'd look if I moved up to Boston."
At that particular import, I probably should let been listening more carefully, but her pantyhose felt so good around my cock that I almost blurted out yes without thinking, just for the chance to be up snug and personal with her amazing legs again.
"I understand if you need to think about it,"Mom continued."I've barely given it practically thought myself. I'm just not sure what else I can do."
Again, my mind drifted off. I lied there trying to imagine what she was wearing. I purposely asked her a random interrogation hoping to get a clearer picture.
"So, um, where are you ?"
"In the teacher's lounge,"she said."I'm on my dejeuner gap. Why ?"
"No reason,"I said, smiling to myself, as I pictured the figure of her sitting there with her legs 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 amercement,"I said."I was just thinking that living up here would be even more expensive. How would that make matter easier ?"
"You're right,"she said."That's actually the real grounds 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 squeamish spot for the two of us."
It took me another moment to respond. I was still lying there quietly teasing myself with the smooth velvety grain of the nylon. My hose-covered fingers were gently grazing up and down the length of my shaft.
"Oh, umm, yeah, that's an idea."
By then, I could barely concentrate. I was too busy wondering what her free hired man was doing as she sat there with one bridge player holding the earphone. Was she gently rubbing her finger's breadth over the nylon like I'd caught her doing so many time at dwelling ? Was she dipping one foot in and out of her shoe, or wiggling her hose-covered toes ? There was no way to know for sure. Still, I pictured her doing all three, right there in the teacher's waiting area, in good view of anyone walking by.
"Come on,"Mom continued."It'll be just like old meter. I can always find work at another campus. Plus we can encounter a shoes with More infinite for your camera equipment. I'll even do all the cooking."
There was a thought, Mom in the kitchen, bending over to reach inside the oven. I could already see her skirt riding up, framing her heart-shaped ass, with just a jot 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 babble to pry about this,"I said, knowing that I couldn't just bond on my roommate, even if our lease was month to calendar month."Plus, we'll have to lay down some solid ground prescript,"I added, when I started to realize the freedom I'd be giving up purely to see her pegleg every day.
"Oh, I see,"she said."So you want to gain the rules now, huh ? Okay. Like what ?"
"Nothing Major,"I explained."I'm just not a kid anymore. I want to be sure we'll respect each other's privateness. That's all"
"I get that,"Mom said."But it's not like I'm bringing guys dwelling or anything. There hasn't been anyone since your Father. You won't have to worry about that."
My rhythm was getting faster as the conversation went on. My grip was sloshed, but thankfully her pantyhose provided a smoother, more delicate clash to my teasing hand CVA.
"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 infinite to smoke smoke and play with yourself all day. You think I don't know about all the porn you have on your computer ? You're my son, Chris. There's null you can blot out from me."
"Mom, what the blaze,"I said, voicing my annoyance."Have you been checking up on me ?"
Clearly, I wasn't amused. Yet, her first reaction was to giggle. Then, she started to excuse, parsing her Word of God 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 big. It doesn't make sense that you'd rather sit at home surfing for hot MILFs online, when there's plenty of real women out there."
"Great,"I replied."So you've checked out my history too ? Jesus, Mom. What else did you see on there ?"
"Enough,"she said, in a sobering tint that made me a wee bit skittish."I never knew you had such a affair for older women,"she continued."Maybe I should premise you to some of the instructor here."
"Yeah, maybe you should,"I said, playing along. As mad as I was at the thought of her checking my computing device behind my back, by then my drumhead was literally spinning as I jerked off more vigorously.
"So,"I asked, switching the national to something more stimulating."Did you like the new shoes I sent you ?"
Mom paused for a indorse, as I lied there waiting for her answer. The lift in her voice told me she was smiling on the former end.
"You must have been reading my mind,"she said."I'm wearing them right now. I've had nix but compliment all day. It was skillful telling everyone my son picked them out."
"aplomb,"I said, picturing her in the five-inch dark strappy sandals I ordered from Amazon."I can't wait to see how they look."
"Well, you're in circumstances,"she said cheerfully."You can see them tomorrow if you want. I'm driving up to appear at topographic point in the break of the day. You should get along with me."
"Mmm, I'd honey to issue forth,"I said, catching myself."I mean, that sounds good. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow. You might need to wear something warm."
"Oh, I'll be hunky-dory,"she said."I normally wear pantyhose under my jeans. That usually helps. Though I seem to be a missing a pair,"she added surprisingly. Naturally, I avoided the subject.
"Really,"I said."Pantyhose under your blue jean,"I repeated, resisting the urge to groan."I guess that would probably help."
"Yeah, it really does,"she said."But anyway, sorry for rambling, I'm sure you're not interested in that."
"Oh, it's amercement,"I said, knowing it would only be another bit or so before I exploded all over my hand."So, about tomorrow,"I said, holding it together,"were you thinking of swinging by here first ?"
"Yeah,"Mom said."I should be there around nine. Just work sure enough you tell jimmy to fatigue some pants this time. It's a little awkward seeing your roommate with an erection."
"Yeah, sorry about that,"I answered, stroking like a fanatic."But then again, you can't really blame him. That annulus you had on was pretty short."
"Oh, you think so ?"Mom said, scoffing a bit."It was normal length. The skirt I'm wearing today is shorter than that."
"fountainhead that explains all the compliments,"I said."How do you hold on your student 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 with child. You know you do."
"Why thank you,"she said."But I'm just like any other woman. We all like to learn it."
"Well, it's true,"I told her."I think you're beautiful. In fact, if you weren't my female parent, I'd probably…um, nevermind,"I said, stopping myself. Who knows what I was thinking. By then, my phallus was doing all the talking.
"No, go on,"she said."If I wasn't your female parent, you'd probably what ?"
That was the pivotal bit. In 19 class, my mother had never asked me a interrogation as directly sexual as that. My formal were practically about to burst. My fist was pumping non-stop. Yet, even then, I still couldn't bring myself to vocalize my affected desire to run my hand over her sonant silky pantyhose and cum all over her sexy legs. Still, I somehow managed to reply with an response intended to blot out my straight feelings.
"Wow,"I said, rubbing my os frontale."This is starting to need a eldritch turn. I really don't think we should go there, do you ?"
"You brought it up,"Mom answered bluntly."Go on, enjoin me,"she added, with a nerve I found intimidating, yet highly erotic at the same prison term."Seriously, I want to know,"she pressed, as I held back what felt like a monolithic volcanic eruption."Do you think I'm a MILF…like the ace you look at on those soil web site ?"
My physical structure trembled. I honestly couldn't 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 mouth about this anymore."
"Okay, fine,"she said."I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. Just tell me one affair. Which percentage of a woman's trunk do you like most ? Wait, let me guess, you're a leg man, right ?"
Now she was pushing it. My best selection was to push back.
"Yes, Mom, I'm a leg man,"I answered flatly."There, I said it. Can we unload it now ?"
To my amazement, she didn't occlusion there.
"With or without pantyhose ?"she said, pushing me to my wit's end. By then, I was jerking off so heavy if she hadn't already gathered the Department of State I was in, she was only seconds from figuring it out.
"Definitely with pantyhose,"I said."Now seriously, stop it. I can't occupy this anymore."
"So you're really into pantyhose,"she said."I guess that makes sense, considering how often I wear them. I suppose it's good that I found out. Maybe we should reconsider this unhurt idea. It's bad enough you can't chance a girlfriend. I'd hate to do anything that makes you palpate even more frustrated."
"Look Mom, for the lastly clock time,"I said, starting to fall behind it."If I really wanted a girlfriend, I'd get one."
"Oh, really ?"she said."And when will that be ? When I've already got one infantry in the grave ? 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 intimate cerebration about me. Surely, I don't have to tell you how inappropriate that would be."
Of path she didn't. I'd known all along how inappropriate it was. In that moment, I honestly didn't care. By then, I was pummeling my dick with a vengeance, bent-grass on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to soak every thread with a massive wad of thick greasy spunk, purely out of spite.
I closed my eyes, instantly reliving the unerasable memories that triggered my fetish in the low berth.
I vividly pictured Mom strolling through the house wearing see-through pantyhose with no skirt on. I could see her returning from oeuvre in her dark fuck-me pump, the stale odor of damp, sweaty nylon spreading through the air as she took off her shoes and asked me to rub her swollen feet. I could even figure the way she smiled as she walked down the street, hips switching from side to side, pretending not to love how men spun toward the sound of her transfix hound clicking on the sidewalk, only to fall base, unclothe off her pantyhose and carelessly toss them in the shackle, leaving them for me to salvage, as I secretly pulled them out, slide my tongue over the wet billet, and deeply inhaled her strong, musky scent.
My lurid remembering pushed me right over the edge. With each violent spirt, I was forced to stifle my urge to groan, watching green of semen blast into the air, surging from the head of my tool, splattering down, drenching the nylon around my bridge player, while my mother patiently waited on the other end, with no estimate what was happening as I lied there shamelessly enjoying my reckless act, her pantyhose swimming in a pool of cum.
Finally, I managed to collect myself, leading with a heavy sigh.
"Look Mom, I'm sorry,"I answered wearily."You asked me to be honest. I wasn't trying to upset you. Maybe we should just fall up now."
"No,"she said, softening her pure 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 conclusion, I think you should severalize me everything. assure me the the true, Chris. Have you ever fantasized about me ?"
As soon as she asked, I instantly knew that I was stuck. On the one deal, by saying no, she'd most likely horse sense that I was lying, which would only make her angry and potentially spoil any fortune of us moving back in together. On the former hand, telling the truth would most likely freak her out so much that she might not speak to me again for months, and that was even regretful.
Normally, in office like this, where I wasn't exactly surely what to do, the first thing I usually did was try to imagine what Mom would do if she was in my position. That's when it hit me that the best way to serve her enquiry was to become it around and ask her a interrogative of my own.
"I'll be honest,"I said, pausing before cunningly attempting to redirect."But first I'd like to hear what you think ?"
"What I think ?"she said, pausing for a short breather."I think that all that porn you've been watching is starting to mess with your head. I think if we're going to live together, then you have to promise to find a girlfriend and set off sustenance in the real world. Can you do that ?"
"Sure Mom, I can do that."
"Good,"she said."I'll see you in the morning. And don't forget to convey back my pantyhose."
* * *
The adjacent morning, Mom showed up right on schedule, in a form-fitting, Black person, V-neck sweater, fairly low cut, with her initiatory initial, L for Lauren, dangling from a atomic number 47 necklace which failed to keep me from noticing the segmentation swelling over her plunk neckline. Her dark skinny denim sat low on her shapely rosehip, hugging every curve under skin-tight dungaree, leading down, just as promised, to her brand new, high-heeled, black leather sandals, with thinly straps spanning over her naked feet.
Looking down at the manacle of her jeans, the start thing I noticed was the worrying absence of pantyhose I'd been expecting. Naturally, I was disappointed, especially after spending my whole night tossing and turn in anticipation of seeing them the adjacent morning.
My first instinct was to say something about it. Then, I remembered how interest she was talking about my voodoo. So the cobbler's last affair I wanted to do was cry any unreasonable aid to it mighty away.
We stood there enjoying a affectionate hug, when my roommate, Jimmy, 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 cultivated handshake. For a few minutes, she and Jimmy stood there making small talk of the town, until Mom finally excused herself, turning to ask if she could speak to me in my room.
I led her back to my sleeping accommodation and there she explained that she'd accidentally put a run in her last pair of pantyhose with a sheer heel and toe. Fortunately, I'd remembered to wash 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 have been hurrying too very much to realize that I'd purposely left the door slightly ajar. I stood there peering through the narrow crack, knowing it was wrong, yet still unable to rupture my oculus from watching her undress.
With her book binding turned, I stood there watching as she reached down and pulled off one horseshoe at a time, enjoying the lovely sight of denim smothering her miserly daily round fag. I then heard the sound as she yanked down her slide fastener, then continued watching as her hands went up to her side. She hooked her thumbs into the narrow waistband and promptly began squirming and wiggling her hips face to side. I fully expected to see step-in, or at least a G-string, resisting the impulse to puff as she peeled down the dungaree, revealing her naked ass. My dick instantly started to tumesce. Then she bent over, folding at the waist, presenting me with a clear thought of her outer pussy lips, smooth, pink, and fully-shaved.
I worried that Jimmy would walk by and see me standing there at any here and now. Still, my incredible fortune was too unspoilt to pass up, as I stood there watching and waiting to see even more.
I gulped with expectation as she wisely removed the jewellery from her fingers, then reached over and lifted her pantyhose off the bed. Within seconds, her nimble fingerbreadth rolled up the commencement leg. She then lifted her left foundation, then reached down and slid the closed chain of nylon over her sharply pointed toes. She then carefully slither the delicate fabric up to her slightly bended knee. She set down her result foot, then steadily raised the other, pointing her toes once again as she slowly eased her right foot inside the opposite sleeve, leaving me breathless as she patiently slid the pantyhose over her knees, drawing the nylon inch by inch over her lissome thigh, and finally squirming to squeeze her shapely rosehip under the straining waistcloth, making one concluding adjustment to line up the sewing along her narrow stub chap, where her high-toned asscheeks, under a marvelous layer of tan, glistening, sheer-to-waist pantyhose, shimmered like a brace of half-moons.
I could accept stood there watching forever, but my instincts told me to quit while I was ahead, knowing she could bend around and catch me at any moment.
I went back to the animation way to line up Jimmy rolling a stick, which I'd come to require as piece of his sunrise routine. The nighttime before, he and I had sat down for a farseeing talk where I'd delicately broken the tidings to him that I was moving out. To my surprise, Jimmy took it in footstep, explaining that he had already been planning to impress in with his girlfriend in a few workweek anyway. Fortunately, there were no hard feelings between us, especially when I stopped to turn over who my new roomie was soon to be.
Moments later, my lovely mother finally returned from my room, smiling cheerfully, as I looked down grinning over the slew of pantyhose covering her pretty invertebrate foot. I promptly turned and hurried toward the room access, hoping to harbor my raging hard-on from her purview. We left my apartment and set out to determine our new place, quickly escaping so Mom could debar 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 anaesthetic LXXX post. The strain on the receiving set thankfully managed to calm down my erection as I road beside her, shifting my focus toward the highly wry words.
"Every little matter she does is a magic. Everything she do just turns me on…"
We then proceeded to drop the following distich of hours going from one ugly, over-priced apartment to another, before finally stopping at a newly-renovated, 2nd flooring walk-up, on a quiet, tree-lined street in Roslindale.
The house was owned by a young, newlywed span named Book of Joel and Cynthia, who conveniently lived on the first level. Book of Joel was a successful contractor in the metropolis. Artemis was a former nurse turned stay-at-home mom who'd recently given birthing to their first nipper. Looking at Artemis, it was pretty obvious she'd just had a baby, judging by the size of her enormous pap which seemed to account for nearly half her dead body weight, especially considering how inadequate she was. If I had to guess, I would receive said she was easily a G-cup…With a working capital 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 side and watched them converse with each other, instantly hitting it off, smiling and hugging like long lost ally when they quickly discovered that Cynthia had graduated from the same high school as my mother, only eight geezerhood later.
Cynthia led us up to see the flat and we couldn't believe our optic. The spot had literally everything we wanted, highschool ceilings, hardwood flooring, with heaps of space, including a boastfully eat-in kitchen. As we walked in, on the left was a combination dining and life way area, divided by sliding double doorway. On the right field was a small office, a belittled Edgar Guest bathroom, then the kitchen, followed by a little storage blank, with a door to the binding porch, and stairs leading up to the attic. The attic had been completely remodeled for new tenants, with two bedroom, and a large maestro bath.
Mom and I signed the term of a contract in a thing of Clarence Day, agreeing to travel in by October 1st.
The move itself went fairly smooth. Mom hired removal firm to handle all the big piece of furniture. Then, on Sunday the 30th, we rented a U-Haul, loaded up everything else, and got it all moved in within a few 60 minutes. Sometime around noon, Mom figured I was probably thirsty and realized we had no food. I offered to commence 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 particular inside. It was mostly packed with old al-Qur'an and pic album, until I noticed something buried underneath.
Curiously, I reached down and pulled out an old, dusty, leather-bound diary which I'd never seen before. I stood there alone in the empty room and quietly cracked open the 1st page.
The first entry was dated Nov 7th, 2003. If memory served me correctly, it was only six calendar month after my parents'divorce.
The commencement few unveiling weren't particularly interesting. She started off talking about leaving the old marketing business firm she'd worked at during her married couple. She'd already completed her teaching certification and put in her two-weeks placard. She was clearly still hurting over Dad leaving her for individual else, blaming it mostly on her own ambitiousness when all Dad wanted was someone More traditional and submissive. Personally, I never understood why he felt that way. Still, he did seem much well-chosen with his new prize married woman. So there really was zip else for Mom to do except move on.
I read through the first of all five or six pages, when thing started to find fault up a bit.
Nov 13, 2003
Something crazy happened today. I made out with Mike Sullivan in the stairwell over by his office. I'm not even for sure why I did it. He's almost 10 years younger than me. Plus he's so broad of himself, really not my eccentric. He hasn't full stop coquetry with me ever since he heard I was back on the grocery store, as he put it. It's not like I did anything to further him. It wasn't my decision to move the duplicator outside his office. I love how he always comes over and expend his pen on the floor. It used to relieve oneself me uncomfortable, but now I just represent along. At firstly, he would throw off it and beak it right back up. Now he likes to linger down there and stare at my legs for a while. It's pretty shady 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 decent lately. The last thing I want to do is obstruct him. I guess he's just at that age. Anyway, I'm not sure what to do about microphone. Grace Kelly and robin are throwing a cheerio party for me tomorrow night. mike said he'd be there. I really liked kissing him. I could tell he liked it too. His dick got really severely when he rubbed it against my leg. It felt pretty big too. No wonder he's fucked half the women in the office. He probably thinks I'm next. It's tempting, but I don't know. We'll see…
November 15, 2003
I can't believe I spent $ 80 dollar sign on a stigma new political party clothes and that son of a bitch didn't even show up. Oh well, his departure I guess. God knows there were mountain of early Guy there who liked it. Never thought I could pull off zebra print. Maybe I'll wear it again side by side week. It was kind of odd being the center of tending, but I think I could get used to it. I know Robin was pretty covetous. I told her to discontinue purchasing me pellet. Besides, no one puts striptease terminal in a bar wide of drunken women expecting cypher to use them. It's not like I was up there flashing my pussy for everyone. I did wear down pantyhose. I'm trusted Mike would have loved that. I wore them just for him. God, I can't stop thinking about his cock. I really postulate to get fucked. I should probably invest in a thoroughly 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 jack off by now. The last thing I want to incur is a huge cum stain on one of my satin thongs. I guess at some full point I'll have a talk of the town with him. I just don't enjoy thinking about my son's phallus. I really wish well his father were here…
I would have kept reading but I knew Mom was on her way back. So I packed everything back inside the box and quietly left the room. I headed back downstair trying to process all the wrestle opinion scrambling through my mind. Clearly, my mother wasn't as clueless or innocent as I'd always believed. She seemed to relish getting attention from young men. She also knew way more about me than I'd ever realized. The thought of Mom willingly behaving like a slut really got me excited. I stepped out onto the backrest porch, where I lit up a fag, trying to calm myself down.
The view from the spinal column porch overlooked the garden in the backyard. I stood there leaning over the railing, as I looked down and noticed that the curtains were drawn on our new landlord's bedroom window downstairs. In the box of the way, I spotted an hollow rocking president, adjacent to what looked like the railings on a baby's crib. I flicked my coffin nail, then looked back again, when Cynthia appeared carrying the child in her arms. Even from such a high angle, it was virtually impossible to look down and see anything other than her humongous tits. The image reminded me of those IMAX picture show where they show you the Earth from quad and you can still see the Himalayas only because they're so fucking big.
I couldn't help grinning at the light blue push up perspirer she was wearing. The textile was stretched out so often it looked like she bought it from baby Gap. I took another drag of my Marlboro Light, watching as she sat down, only to gasp in disbelief when she started unbuttoning her top.
By then, I was already horny as fuck, as I watched Cynthia get hold of up and unsnap her bra from the forepart, letting her left hand breast bust through the opening of her sweater, before lifting it up and pressing her baby's mouth over her swollen nipple. My unanimous sprightliness I'd never seen anything like it, as she sat there rocking back and Forth River. I've always preferred pegleg, but there was no denying the beauty of Cynthia's phenomenal jugs. The size of her tit reminded me of my twenty-four hours back at the pizza workshop, where we laid out the sugar until it rose into soft, round, flesh-colored cumulus. The longer I watched, the to a greater extent I found myself jealous of her little boy and the blissful look on his face as he eagerly suckled his mother's tit.
Just when my dick couldn't possibly get any harder, Mom finally returned as I heard her opening the front threshold. I wasn't about to let her see what I was doing, so I quickly hustled back interior.
I met her in the kitchen where I found her wearing a short, heather gray, New England Patriots tee shirt, with black spandex yoga pant, and a couplet of Brown University fur-lined kicking. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with no makeup, yet I still wanted to deflect her over and completely fuck her brains out.
"How's it going ?"she said."Get much done ?"
"Umm, not really,"I said."Went out for a smoke. Figured I'd wait for you."
"That's ticket. You must be starving,"she said."I brought you a Republic of Turkey sandwich, no tomatoes."
"Thanks,"I said, looking around at the mass of rubble everywhere."Where should we sit ?"
Mom looked around as well. There was only one electric chair in the kitchen. The repose were all stacked in the dining room.
"Good enquiry,"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 derriere, while Mom leaned against the comeback and started to eat.
After one bite, she strolled over toward me, walking around in front of the chair, where she then settled down, with one arm draped around my neck and her legs stretched out across my lap.
"So,"she said."This is it. This is our new home. Are you excited ?"
I would have got answered, if only she hadn't chosen that exact moment to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her face instantly told me she could find how intemperately I was. I expected her to skip over right up. Instead, she just sat there for a minute, looking at me with this tormented look on her face like I'd murdered someone.
Finally, she whispered softly, with this cold, distant look in her eyes.
"Uh, Chris…is that what I think it is ?"
It was just like the phone Call over again. Only this prison term, there was no ingenious way for me to twirl it. I was far too humiliated to bet her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my promontory. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the fluency of her legging as she pressed her ass firmly against my prick.
Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety tights, not trend like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the touch sensation. On the summation position, the textile was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.
Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her arms 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 front her, I lifted my sweaty palms and started to rub them against my shorts.
"I wasn't doing anything,"I answered meekly."Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."
"I see,"Mom said, nodding her promontory."expression, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the household like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."
"Yes, I remember. But finding a girl isn't that easy. It takes time."
"Okay, maybe you're redress,"she said."So in the lag, what should we do ?"
"I don't know,"I said, shrugging it off."I'll just give birth to grapple with it on my own."
"mulct,"Mom said."Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."
Granted, the logical matter to do in that situation would have probably been to abide up and go to my way. Instead of doing that, I chose to piss sparkle of the situation, hoping to cut the stress by seeing if Mom was uncoerced to get a sensation of humor about the totally thing.
"So what,"I said, staring back defiantly,"should I just whip it out right here ?"
She had already started to rick away. Then she slowly twisted her head back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow slits of her eyes.
"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."
Her reply hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been good at athletics. In school, I got picked on for being the tightfitting boy in course of instruction. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too chicken to struggle back. I'd been putting up with yobbo for as farseeing as I could recall. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.
Instead of looking down, I looked Mom second power in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my dick.
"O.K., time out,"Mom said, putting her hired hand up."This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your drawers, right now. I'm not joking."
"Neither am I,"I said, pointing the tip heterosexual at her."You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."
"Don't vigil ?"she said, raising an eyebrow, with a modest jest and an obvious smirk on her face."So you just anticipate me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself ? You want me to act like this is normal ?"
"Sure,"I said,"as long as you stay where I can see you."
"Wow, you've got some nerve,"Mom said, dropping her nous to her chest, before wearily rubbing her frontal bone. After a brief second, she slowly raised her head up, responding with a dead nod, as she quietly answered."fine, do what you want. I can't stopover you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."
Admittedly, it would own been easy to stop right hand there. I could have easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in social movement of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to discount her own rule about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of edification that only made my hawkshaw harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in lightlessness spandex.
"Don't take all day,"she snapped over a puff of Mary Jane."You're favourable I'm allowing this at all."
I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to explicate why it was taking so long.
"Sorry, my helping hand's pretty dry,"I said.
She sat there thinking for a sec, startling me as she sprang up, with fag in hired man, as she marched back over toward the comeback. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a small plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. Bottle in hand, she leaned over the head of my cock, squirting out a generous chunk of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.
"Will that assist ?"she said, with a grin on her look which I instantly read as mild amusement.
"Very much,"I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the application over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all English, enabling me to enjoy the feeling of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my strict lance, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.
I sat there hoping she would study my technique, imagining one day to feel her script instead of my own. The expression on her face lacked any chassis of expression, as if to preclude me from noticing any foretoken of interest in her frigidity, lifeless eyes.
"Um, we should really quicken this up,"she said, dropping her hands to her pelvic girdle."Is there something else I can do ?"
"Sure,"I said, hoping to push this even further."You could change state around and show me your butt."
"Oh, I could, huh ?"she said."Will that get you off…if I turn around and show you my ass ?"
"Mmm, yes please."
"Oh,"she said, smiling openly."I like it when you say please. Go on, piffling boy. Say ‘ please Mom, may I bet at your ass ?'”
Hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of implicit king, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.
"Please, Mom,"I said earnestly."Please, may I bet at your beautiful ass ?"
"Hmm,"she said with a snigger."You did that very well,"she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out LE than three in from my brass.
"How's that ?"she said, poking it out."William Tell me how good it looks."
"Mmm, so proficient,"I answered quickly."Your ass is sodding. Really, it's perfect."
My mouth watered at the visual modality of her black leggings stretched taut over the breaking ball of her firm shapely rear end. She kept her animal foot together, accentuating the gradient where the belittled of her spine arched over and her asscheeks strained under the close cloth, so amazingly turn and to the full, I could barely have back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.
"I'm glad you approve,"she said."Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."
"I'm getting close,"I said."Just bend over a little further."
"Oh, I don't think so,"she said."I'm not taking any more orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood ?"
"Okay,"I whispered, losing my breath."I'll do anything you want."
"That's better,"she said."Now I want you to abide up. We're trading places."
With no hesitation, I jumped out of my fanny, expecting my female parent to ferment around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index finger, directing me to stand in front of the professorship. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden fundament, keeping her ramification together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.
"Is this where you'd like to cum,"she asked, flexing her tight glutes,"right here, all over your mother's ass ?"
"Oh, fuck yeah,"I moaned, stroking intently."You have no idea."
"Then bear witness me,"she said."Show me how horny you are decent now. Let me find it. Let me finger 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 able of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.
Was she really begging me to twitch off in our stain new kitchen ? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her nigrify yoga pants ?
I should take in accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no luck to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock reek up against her butt, a forceful collision softened by the leg covering and the meaty flesh underneath, the staring cushion for my throbbing member to cranch against her politic, velvety rump.
She let out a terrified scream, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal music 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 path, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.
"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it !"
She said nothing in comeback. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my hammer. Her voice was raspy and out of breath, with her fountainhead forward, hair swinging all over.
"Oh, God,"she moaned."God, your putz is so hard. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes babe, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me finger your cum !"
In 19 years, I'd never felt an coming quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk come gushing out of my hammer like a broken body of water main. The force of each spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My typeface was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our soundbox mashed together, the lingering sensation of her easygoing impudence pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining come flowing from my aching testicle.
As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the Negro leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a blockheaded layer of white creamy foam, rolling down the opprobrious spandex, then pooling in the fling of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist kitty-cat.
Covered in elbow grease, 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 moment, Mom remained pipe down. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.
"Yeah, good idea,"she said, slowly rising to her feet."Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the next ten hour, okay ?"
* * *
For the remainder 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 most of her metre in the kitchen, while I worked in the living room hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some Quaker from school who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.
The next good morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an vacuous sign of the zodiac. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely decent time to grab a immediate exhibitor, throw on some apparel and race off to get to my morning class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to worry that my goosy natural process had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.
When I finally made it to class, the concern of Mom telling me to move out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought of going home, sealed of what was destined to come.
My final class ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, jimmy had kindly given me two troy ounce of Blue Dream. So I figured the best thing to do was go home, smoke a bowl and have a span beers, just to machinate myself for the foul mood my mother was sure to be in when she got home.
The moment I walked in the menage, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her elbow room and luckily found it in the Lapp box where I'd left it, right at the foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few page, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.
December 10th, 2003
Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was kind of scared at commencement, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a view. He was well dressed for a untested guy with a dainty byplay courtship like he could own been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my behind, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could take got up and found another keister, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and keep back my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd motility on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take the hint and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to take the air over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how anxious he was to go about me. I was sort of affront, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not give him one just to fuck with his pass. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them assailable to show him the black thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four time, crossing my legs back and forth. Each time, I held my legs open for a 2d, letting him see up my doll. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to follow me down to the shoe store.
I'd found a corking bargain on a black-market duad of jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice glossy finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the windowpane. The bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my lightlessness thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my leg as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some deprave observe me from buying horseshoe. So I sat there on the Bench thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my wooden leg loose and my skirt up around rosehip, working my invertebrate foot into the shoes. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play innocent with his back turned. At that point, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the place 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. for certain enough, he walked out with a grinning on his grimace like he hadn't done anything wrong. 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 charwoman's skirts. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could receive seen more. He offered to demand me out for a deglutition to see if he could alter my opinion. He looked a little tempestuous when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a flirt. So then I decided to instruct him a lesson and asked him to take the air me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly undo my blouse, then told him to take out his turncock. He looked around for a mo. Then he stepped over to the windowpane and nervously pulled his cock out. I spit in my palm, taking his cock in one hand, while using the early to slowly pull up my doll. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the other to stroke his dick hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his lading rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.
Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a one word…
The handing over ended there, but the waken effect lingered in my vivid imaginativeness longer after I set down the journal.
Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without motion my initiative clear evidence that the adult female who raised me and handed down all of my morals was leave to plight in extreme, high-risk, sexual behavior with seemingly any Pres Young man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and belief of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.
Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my female parent's darkness side of meat, determined to see how far she was leave to go to fulfill her deep sexual desires.
One hour later, I was stretched out on the lounge, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the gossamer from my psyche, as I walked toward the sound of someone knocking on the threshold.
Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his tool smash. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced DoS, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melon spilling out of a bright orange satin nightie.
"Good sunup,"she said, over a trench yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.
"Hey,"I said, with a puzzled spirit, as I glanced down at her blurry pink slider."Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you ?"
"Exhausted,"she said."Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten min ago."
"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your hubby. But that's cool. Come on in,"I said, pulling the threshold open.
"Joel had a job out in Framingham,"she explained."But I'm pretty handy with a spanner myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."
"Oh,"I said, forcing myself to concenter on her font."That's actually kind of hot,"I said awkwardly."Yeah, Mom gave me a inclination of stuff…smoke dismay, radiator, lavatory sink, and one of the light switching in the attic."
"No worries,"she said."Smoke alarm probably needs a new battery. If the faint switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."
With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had forgetful blonde hair, in one of those voguish bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely physical body for the fullness of her bout, chubby boldness. Knowing how critical some women are, she might induce described herself as overweight. In my opinion, the extra baby system of weights just made her look more voluptuous. Her coxa were fairly wide, yet her venter was still pretty flat, with a pair of incredibly huge disparager, giving her a pure 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 back myself from staring down at her giant hooters. I had recently started kickboxing and looking down at Cynthia's teat reminded me of those heavy bags down at the gym, two of them, slope to side, swinging to and fro. The icy temperature of the room did wonders for her mammilla too, swelling and poking out like thimbles through the orange satin clinging to her chest.
After hearing her apology for showing up half naked, I did my best to relieve her sense of importunity, hoping not to embarrass her.
"You could have waited,"I said."Mom doesn't usually leave workplace until five or six. She's more sensitive to the common cold than I am. My old apartment was much defective. Not to cite, we trust you."
"Well, I'm gladiola you feel that way,"she said."But you're actually our first tenants since we bought this place…hate to start off on the wrong foot,"she added."The radiator seems fine, must be a problem with the furnace. We just hired a new nanny and she's variety of clueless, so I need to get back and arrest on the infant. I can fix it right after that."
"Sounds good,"I said."I'll tell Mom you came by."
"Please do,"she said."I'll also come back and delay out the sink too. I just need to put on some real clothes."
"No rush, always effective to see you,"I said,"though it might be good to bust a little more next metre, no offense."
"None taken,"she said, glancing at the cleavage where her night-robe had helplessly slipped down."I know the girls can be a picayune distracting,"she said, tugging on the strap, a useless attempt to cover up, making her breast centre jiggle under the nightie, as I stood there fighting to keep on my eyeballs inside their sockets.
As I led her back to the room access, she paused in strawman of the government agency, pointing to the camera on top of the desk.
"Who's the photographer ?"she asked curiously.
"Oh, that'd be me,"I said."I'm not that good, but it's always been a hobby. When I was Brigham Young, I had this pipe dream of working for a men's magazine."
"Really, you mean like Sports Illustrated or something ?"
"Hmm, no, more like Maxim or playboy,"I said."Blame it on Anna Nicole Smith."
"Oh, that's cool,"she said, smiling."You mean like pin-up expressive style. I've always wanted to do something like that.
"No way,"I said."I honestly never pictured you as the type."
"Oh, and why's that,"she said."You think I'm too old or something ?"
"No, not at all,"I said."You're never too old. You just assume me as more…I don't know, conservativist, I guess."
"Ah,"she said."So because my Volvo has a baseball mitt Romney bumper toughie, you naturally assumed I was uptight."
"Well, no,"I said stuttering like a fool.
The more she spoke, the to a greater extent Cynthia reminded of the girls I knew back in high school, the ones who'd been spoiled since parturition and hid their emotions under a well-practiced smile and an annoyingly bouncy disposal, suited in this pillowcase considering her plentiful bosom.
"Tell you what,"she said, cutting me off."Next calendar month is our indorse anniversary. I wasn't sure what to get Joel as a gift, but now I'm thinking he'd really revel some skillful glamour snapshot, you know, something sexy to add some spice back to our family relationship. Could you help me with that ?"
I was pretty taken aback by how open she was about her man and wife. Still, I couldn't ignore the subtle dalliance of this do-or-die housewife or the rapidly growing hard-on in my pants.
"Umm, sure, I could aid you with that,"I said."We'll have to discuss wardrobe and take some test shots, but otherwise, I should have everything we need."
She then wasted no sentence stepping into the office, where she leaned up against the paries and slowly proceeded to strip down down the right wing shoulder strap of her nightgown, letting it fall off her shoulder.
"Will the Light Within in here oeuvre for you ?"
"I'll use the flash,"I said, as I stepped over to the desk, picked up the photographic camera and quickly began snapping away.
From the moment the camera started flashing, I was instantly blown away by her deficiency of shyness, never expecting so much confidence in strawman of the electron lens. The inexperienced person, gutsy lady of the house who'd showed up just moments earlier was instantly replaced by a smoldering tease, with two perfectly pouting lips and a deadly come-hither stare, enhancing the cause force of her ruttish blue devil eyes. Yet, the sultry look on her grimace, as sexy as it was, didn't entirely prepare me for the moment she crossed her arms together, thrusting her tits toward the camera like dual airbags, completely filling up the frame with more than segmentation than my brain could fully comprehend.
She continued shifting through various poses, when I mildly requested that we step over across the hall. She kindly accepted. So I took her by the hand, Ieading her into the dining elbow room, where I then helped her mount up onto the table.
She didn't need a great deal instruction as she stretched out, extending her legs, with her promontory tilted back, and her bureau pointed up toward the cap.
"Mind if I ask you a personal doubt,"I asked, as she shifted over to her left side, returning my question with a knowing smile.
"You want to experience 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 ache your cover ?"
"All the time,"she said."Imagine trying to walk with two gallons of Milk River strapped to your chest of drawers. It kind of feels like that."
"No, I can't imagine,"I said, shaking my head."But what about your tit ? Do they ever get sore ?"
Artemis nodded."Sometimes,"she said,"mainly when I'm nursing. But I'd rather do that than use formula, more nutrients."
"Hmm, have you ever tasted it ?"
"My breast Milk ?"she answered."Yeah, once or twice. It's a bit more watery than regular milk. I try to eat lots of fruit to hold it seraphic. Otherwise, it's kind of sour."
"Interesting,"I said, realizing she couldn't stay much longer."wellspring, I know you have to go. I'll upload these moving-picture show and see which angles work best. Let me cognise when you have time for a to the full pic shoot."
"Oh, okay,"she said, seeming a bit confused.
"Is something wrong ?"I asked."If you need time to call up 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 representative combined with her tier gaze gave me a lightheaded touch as I set down the tv camera, then pulled out a president, and quietly sat down. Just when it seemed things couldn't possibly get weirder, this womanhood I barely knew was offering to let me taste her white meat milk.
How could I possibly say no ? From the minute I saw her, my maiden neural impulse was to bury my fount between her chest and motorboat those melon vine until I passed out.
My initial shock absorber prevented me from speaking after hearing her offering out loud. Still, there must suffer been something written on my face which clearly confirmed that I was more than just a little peculiar.
She seemed to enjoy teasing me as her correctly hand slowly rose up and deliberately pulled down her left berm strap. Sweat beads formed across my hilltop as she fixed her oculus on me and quietly peeled down the former. My eyes concentrated mainly on the orange satin covering her massive thorax, where Artemis reached up and thrillingly set her men to patiently allay down the glistening fabric. Finally, with a lump in my pharynx, I looked on intently as Cynthia managed to pull out her enormous jugful.
Logically, I knew what I was seeing. Still, I couldn't fathom how a adult female so low could end up with mammilla that big. Each one was larger than my school principal and must stimulate weighed at least ten hammering, as I sat there entranced by the size and bod of these two gigantic globes, hovering in from my face. Neither was perfectly round, nor even completely smoothen, with stretch marks along both English of her otherwise porcelain skin.
As big as they were, Cynthia's titmouse were far too lowering to scat the effects of gravity, making them sag just a bit, yet in a rather appealing way, especially when she moved and the soft tissue really started to 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 screw how lofty she was of her huge 38FFs.
posing in the death chair, my oculus were level with her garden pink nipples, sprouting invitingly from the raised surface of her dark areolas, no wider than a pair of quarters.
She beckoned me with her hunched finger, stopping me when I leaned in too close.
"Don't put your mouth on it,"she said."Just sit back, open wide, and I'll do the rest."
I respectfully followed gild, leaning my head back, then parting my lips open and waiting for what she did next.
She leaned forward, placing the tips of her thumb and forefinger on each side of meat of her decent nipple. Then, using light pressing, 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 mammilla directly in forepart of my oral cavity. I instantly closed my eye, compelled by the want to burn this moment deep into my memory forever. The flavor seemed to revive something buried in my subconscious mind. The sweetness, tangy liquidity filling my open mouth magically transported me back to infancy. She stopped me for a mo, giving me metre to savor the creamy droplets lingering inside my backtalk. My eyes opened just in time to see her lifting her early titty, which soon began streaming milk over my tongue as well.
As Cynthia continued feeding me, I happily began swirling my tongue through the warm nectar, letting the flavor seep into every corner of my mouth, tingling my penchant buds, as the world around me faded into a remote blur.
"soul seems to be liking this quite a bit,"she said.
"Mmm,"I whispered."Best matter I've tasted in months."
"Aww, that's sweet,"she said, blushing a bit."And I really appreciate your help with the pictures. But I should probably head up back now. We'll talk again soon though. I promise."
"Yeah, that's fine, whenever,"I said, trying my best to seem nonchalant."You know where I live,"I added casually.
While she'd made it clear that she really needed to go, once I realized she was far more liberal than I'd ever guessed, I couldn't avail myself from testing the waters just a bit more.
"Before you go, I was thinking about wardrobe for the shoot. How would you find about maybe wearing some pantyhose ?"
"Pantyhose,"she said, sneering back at me."God, I hate those things. They made us fag them all the sentence at the hospital. You know, like those vile white compression hosepipe. It makes me itch just thinking about it. What about maybe some stockings and a garter belt ?"
"Hmm, that's an melodic theme too,"I replied."I think you'd looked really hot in a sexy nanny's outfit, with white bounder and glistening white hose. They really sparkle on camera."
"Sure,"she said."Just reach me bet good. That's all I care about."
"Shouldn't be a problem,"I said, escorting her to the door. She left me with a abbreviated hug and a indulgent candy kiss on the boldness, as I closed the room access, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
* * *
By the time Artemis left, I felt like a total snake god. My peter was so hard I could barely walk, like all the stock in the rest of my body had instantly rushed down to my throb private parts. I desperately needed some type of release, as I slowly crept back upstairs, looking to find Mom's daybook once again.
This time I wasn't just looking for any random passage. Instead, I entered my mother's room, ignoring the frozen air, as I picked up the diary and purposely opened it from the back.
I looked down and read the date of her latest entry. My dresser heaved the moment I realized it had just been written the day before.
Since we hadn't spoken about it, I desperately wanted to know how she truly felt about what happened between us the day we moved in. I realized I might not like what I read. Yet, I also had this gut feeling that something inside her wanted it to happen too. In my mind, the possibility was so tantalizing that the verboten excitement of even thinking about it quickly consumed me. At that point, I wanted a way to ready the here and now even better. I wasn't sure where the idea came from, maybe from being in such a common cold elbow room. Or maybe it was just my natural inherent aptitude taking over as I walked over and pulled receptive my mother's top drawer.
I opened it to find a luxurious pile of high quality cleaning woman's hosiery, in a multitude of colouring, patterns and thickness stratum. I studied the bundle, breathing heavily over the bounty of nylon unmentionable spread out before me like an all-you-can-eat pantyhose counter. I rummaged through the mass, searching until my manus came across a plumage light pair of silky, midnight ignominious pantyhose brush against my fingers.
Carefully pulling them from the drawer, I made my way over to the bed, removing my jeans and underwear, before nervously sitting down to work out the logistics of getting them on.
Admittedly, it wasn't pretty. Still, I managed to botch up my way through it, taking program line from the memory of watching Mom put them on under her blue jean. With the pantyhose drawn up over my knees, I then had to work out stretching the nylon over my hammer and musket ball. My shaft stood up like a flag perch as I stretched the finespun threading to its limit, drawing the waistband respective column inch away from my navel point while I reached down and held the shot flat up against my abdomen. That number one import of full encasement from the waist down filled my whole dead body with tingling electricity. I wasn't sure as shooting why I'd waited to so long to try them on, but the pleasure sweeping through me as I stood there rubbing my own polish stage took me to a spirit level of excitement I'd never even imagined, by taking her pantyhose and trapping my member beneath the fabric, making me feel right at home.
Ready to take up interpretation, 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 knocker, and the crazy anticipation of what I had yet to read, it was a curiosity I didn't instantly blow my load as I felt Mom's pantyhose smashed up against my cock.
The intensity running through me, combined with the lingering effect of the Mary Jane, sent me into a surreal 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 feeling responsible for what happened today. I know he's getting honest-to-goodness and he's basically develop enough to get to his own determination. Still, it's obvious he has certain tendencies that are far too grievous to overlook. I was able-bodied 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 bizarre obsession he has with me ? It's almost like he's turned into an animal. The way he exposed himself so brazenly like that, it's something I'll never get over. I'm still not sure why I said those things. It's heavily to even stomach the sentiment of letting him take down me that way. I know that I've done some pretty slutty things in my animation, but this isn't some random guy I met at a bar. This is my son, my own pulp and blood. What kind of mother would I be to let him recollect what he did was okay ? It doesn't matter how much I enjoyed it. There's nothing unseasonable with enjoying the feeling of someone finding me attractive. I liked seeing him get hard for me. Who wouldn't like seeing that ? For once, I was proud of him for having the confidence to rend it out so fearlessly. I never actually touched it, but I must say from a aloofness it was a pretty decent size, surprising in fact. His torso has gotten so ripped since he started kickboxing. Maybe that explains why he's gotten so belligerent lately. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this. Now that I know he likes seeing me in pantyhose, how can we continuing living together ? Maybe I should help him see someone, just to get his mind on something else ? God, this is mad. I missed him so much and I just finally got him back. I know there's a way we can sour this out, as long as I'm capable to control myself better that he can. suppose we'll just have to await and see…
As I finished the musical passage, I set down the journal and sprawled out onto the bed. I laid back and shut out my heart, letting her word replay in my head, as I quietly drifted off to sleep.
I was suddenly woken up by the sound of samara jangling in the lock downstairs. I sat up and checked the clock. It was quarter yesteryear five. Mom was already base. I leapt off the bed, shoved the journal back in the box, then ran to my elbow room with no time to consume off her pantyhose. I threw on some denim, slid on a distich of sock, and promptly walked down to greet her sudden arrival, staying as calm as I could.
"You're home early,"I said, entering the kitchen, where Mom was standing with her back turned, flipping through a stack of junk ring armour, as I noticed a bag of foodstuff resting on the counter.
"Got off early,"she said, spinning face forward with a quick smile."I texted you but you must've been sleeping or something,"she added.
Like always, she looked rather nice in her fashionable Louis Harold Gray business courtship. The color was a little olive drab, but the cut was extremely flattering, especially the hemline, which I greatly appreciated for cutting off rectify above mid-thigh, leaving more than enough leg on show where I could briefly pause to gaze over the indifferent colour of the sheer off-white pantyhose stretching down to her white leather pumps.
"Sorry, probably smoked too a great deal,"I said, shrugging it off."So what's for dinner ?"
"Well,"Mom said, as she stepped over and started to empty the bag."Since it's our first functionary home-cooked meal in our new seat, I went out and got poppycock to wee sheepherder's pie."
The dish up Mom referred to was an Irish casserole, made with Allium cepa, carrots, priming coat lamb or beef, topped by a bed of creamy mashed potatoes. It was also an inside joke among our family.
sheepherder was the gens Mom took when she got married, the figure she'd kept after the divorce so her last name would still be the same as mine. Mom could manipulate almost anything, but her sheepherder's pie was normally reserved for birthdays and former special occasions.
"Cool,"I said."Shall I break out the good People's Republic of China ?"
"No, you don't have to do that,"she said."I was just thinking that your begetter and I had the same thing for dinner when we moved into our first place. I figured since you're the new man of the house, I should wee it for you too."
Though it was unexpected, the thought of a tasty, home-cooked meal sounded pretty upright. For a endorse, I didn't know what to say. Considering how she left that dayspring, I was fully expecting her to be highly upset when she got household. I had spent virtually of the day stressing over it. I desperately wanted to bring in the air and would have said something right then, but the smiling on her grimace was so loose and full of philia that it instantly stopped me from pointing out the elephant in the room. In that instant, I could only assume that Mom had made the decisiveness to move on like nothing had ever happened. So instead of confronting the matter headland on, I did my best to disregard the tension between us, though it wasn't easy, especially when I could still feel her pantyhose against my legs.
Reacting to my quiet, Mom quietly stood there squinting at me from across the room. She must have picked up on the storm of emotions swirling inside my brain as she calmly stepped toward me and slowly wrapped her arms around my neck. Her essence smelled like mint candy as her hazel center cut flop through me. Her long, steady regard calmed me to the power point where the panic inside me gradually started to melt away.
"Why are you so tense ?"she said, massaging between my neck opening and shoulders.
"Not sure as shooting,"I said,"just been a strange match of days."
"Yes it has,"she said."But it's also been moderately Nice,"she added. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in close enough where I could feel the lovingness of her breath. Then she softly kissed me on the mouth. It wasn't long a kiss, more like a peck. Still, it wasn't something she'd ever done before.
"What was that ?"I said, praying she wouldn't feel my erection against her this time.
"Just my way of saying thank you,"she answered."I've never told you how much I missed you all this sentence. It means so much that you're will to yield up your freedom to exist with your crazy, 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 take hold of her and kiss her as arduous as I could. The scintillation her in eye gave me the feeling she might not pull away, as I boldly prepared to lean in and campaign my lips firmly against hers.
"So what's with the camera on the dining table ?"she said, throwing me off.
I stammered for a second, quickly blinking, trying to collect my intellection. In hindsight, perhaps I should have lied about it. Instead, I stood there pressed up against her breast, with a mild grin on my brass, as I calmly proceeded to explain how Cynthia had stopped by earlier, noticed the camera in the power and thought it would be cool to chip in Joel some sexy photograph for their anniversary. I assumed Mom would see it was all in fun, but the frown on her font immediately told me otherwise.
"You seem queasy about it,"she said, quirking her point to the side."Are you sure she just wanted scene, or did something else happen that you're not telling me ?"
The tension in her body felt like she was bracing for a major electric shock. Her eyes stared intently as she quietly held her breath.
"I never touched her, if that's what you're thinking."
Mom blinked back at me, eerily quiet as she sniffled and flipped her hair.
"She was telling me something about the baby,"I continued."Then somehow we got on the theme of breast milk. At showtime, it was all pretty standard. Then she asked if I wanted to try some."
Mom's eyebrow shot up as she looked back and suddenly blurted,"Did you ?"
She knew my answer the moment I turned away. Before I could cease 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 characterisation before Joel hears about this,"she said."The last thing we need is a reason for him to shake off 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 depiction one at a time.
I could hear the injury in her voice as she looked down and studied the mental picture 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 living. 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 pilus falling over her face made it difficult to see her expression, as I stood there and quietly rubbed her shoulder joint, trying to solace her.
Finally, with binge welling in her center, she looked back, voice trembling as she softly whispered,"Then why didn't you ask me ?"
Her discussion struck me like a thunderbolt of lightning. Without mentation, I lunged forward and kissed her with to a greater extent passion than a soldier returning from war. Her backtalk parted, surprisingly accepting my tongue, returning my lust-filled blowup with the same intense importunity.
We stood there feverishly making out with each early for God knows how long. Our script roamed everywhere, groping each other's bodies in a raving mad frenzy. The marvellous texture as I ran my fingers through her silken Robert Brown hair, combined with the kick of feeling her pantyhose pressed up against my cock, stirred me to turn over down and shove both helping hand under her bird, running my hands over her skin-tight pantyhose with no apologies, as I boldly switched between sliding my finger over every inch of that sleek nylon and firmly gripping her hose-covered ass, with her supple cheek yielding to the pressure of my clenching finger, as I stood there squeezing her fleshy tooshie through a thin layer of pantyhose like I'd dreamed of doing for so many years.
I flinched as Mom reached down and quickly unzipped my fly. I was tempted to arrest her, knowing the secret inside my jeans. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to attain down and catch her by the wrist. I was too distracted by the womanishness of the nylon against my fingers, helpless to stop over my paw from steadily caressing her hose-covered hips and thighs, as she urgently reached through my open zipper, trying in vain to find my cock, only to be blocked by a pair 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 finger softly caress me through me through the nylon, a moment of dumb recognition passed between us, where placing her hand against the unruffled, dark roughage of the pantyhose hidden inside my denim opened a portal site leading to the shadows of forbidden sex.
Slowly, my mother began tracing her finger's breadth over the synopsis of my bulging shaft. I could hardly trust my gorgeous mother was actually touching my cock, let alone smiling as I felt her hand slowly lead off rubbing and squeezing my hard-on through the pantyhose.
"How long has this been going on ?"she asked.
"Not long,"I said."I've actually never worn them before today."
"Oh, really ?"she answered."wellspring, how does it feel ?"she asked, as I stood there reeling from the pleasure of her delicate mite, with her fingers gliding over the ridges of my corpse, pulsating shaft, light as a feather, never stopping to look up, focusing intently on every twitch, as if learning my weak spots, while brushing the baksheesh of her fingers against my sensitive glans.
My result described the smell of both her hand and the pantyhose, pausing to savor the dizzying sensation, letting the delight absorb through my genitals, spreading through every cubicle of my eubstance, as I faintly whispered,"Soft, warm, maybe a little compressed, but not uncomfortable."
The point of her nail circled around the tip of my cock, slowly moving down to my aching balls. Her voice returned, thrilling me with her sultry tone.
"Well, sometimes a piddling restraint can be good for you,"she said."But I do have to say one thing. I can't deny my feelings any More than you can. So I'm willing to let us toy with each early but only so much."
"Okay,"I said, nodding respectfully."So what exactly does that stand for ?"
"I don't know,"she replied."Let's just take this one step at a time."
"That's mulct,"I said."Just knowing you're okay with my fetish is honest enough for me."
"Oh, don't worry,"she said."As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."
With her Elwyn Brooks White heels still on, she then lifted her left leg and lightly began grazing it against my jibe, bending her knee and dragging it up and down over the nylon in a diffraction grating motion, as if purposely trying to increase the friction, mounting the pressure inside my balls.
I swooned with pleasure as she pressed her knee up against me, grabbing her from behind, forcing our bodies to commingle together as closely possible.
"Like that ?"she whispered, knowing full well the effect she was having on me.
"C. H. Best tone in the macrocosm,"I said, making her smile.
"Oh, I don't know about that,"she replied."I'm certain 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 toss of her hair, as I watched her quietly step back toward the dining mesa.
Slowly, she turned around facing away from me, keeping her heels together, as she leaned forward and seductively arched her back. My eyes settled where the humps of her ass pushed back against her skirt, as she reached back and quickly pulled down the zip fastener. With one handwriting on each side of her doll, she forcefully ripped it down. As it fell to the base, she placed her hands over the pantyhose tight up against her butt. The nylon ascendance top that stretched out across her ass was thicker and even whiter than the nylon extending down her legs.
"Is this a just angle ?"she said, smiling over her shoulder.
"It's beyond good,"I said, shaking my head.
"take a motion picture, it'll last longer,"she said.
I heeded her actor's line promptly, leaning over to pick up the camera where she'd left it on the floor. She patiently waited, holding the Saami pose, as I did my honorable to restrain my hired hand steady, fighting through shaky nerves.
I shifted the lens system vertically, wanting to capture the full extension of her ramification, ensuring her heels were visible in the figure. My excitement was so overwhelming I could barely uphold my assiduousness. The embodiment of all my fantasies stood just a few steps away. Clearly, she could see how badly I wanted her. There was heavily physical grounds straining under the pressure level of her restrictive pantyhose. Yet, I sensed her distinct enjoyment of our proscribed foreplay by the seductive fashion in which she playfully indulged my fetish.
I continued taking pictures as she leaned all the way over, laying her chest across the table. Her prone position beautifully emphasized the curve of her ass, while the lean muscles of her legs seemed to stretch even more.
From there, she returned to an upright stead, turning to present the window. She noticed a chair inches away, then raised her left leg, setting her heel on top of the seat. She flipped her hair, striking another affectedness, letting her sports jacket slide down over her left shoulder. While I continued clicking away, I couldn't avail watching the motion of her hand rubbing back and forth against her leg. She seemed to enjoy feeling the textile against her skin, caressing the nylon with such warmness that I suddenly became inebriate with lust.
The blazer came off as I watched her lay it down neatly on the table. Beneath it was a sexy demi-cut bra, bluish-green, with lace semi-circles covering the lower half of each breast, combined with an underwire to push out the alluring fullness of her bust, setting her tits high atop her chest.
She turned face forward where I then noticed that the bra was division of a matching set. The sheerness of the nylon enabled me to make out a high-cut thong of the Sami lacy textile and colouring material. She didn't wait long to switch into yet another striking pose as she hopped onto the table, swishing the nylon with another rousing leg cross, as I held up the camera and focused on the white heel dangling from her bequeath foot.
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 heels pointed toward the ceiling. I watched as she crooked her head to the right, snapping another impression with her branch elevated and the side of her facial expression peeking back at me with the juicy grin I'd ever seen.
I asked for one more and she happily complied by spreading her legs in a"V"geological formation, where she reached down and placed her left hand over the cotton board between her pegleg. I held up the camera for one survive pose, framing the final guesswork so her face was centered between her subject branch, as she scrunched her eyeball together, parted her brim, and bit down on one of her knuckles, feigning an expression of orgasmic bliss which left me completely speechless.
The vision was so compelling that I instantly tore off everything including my wind sock. She instantly saw me coming as she sat up and greeted me with open arms. Our lips melted together as I rushed my hands down to the nylon, rubbing the pantyhose against her thigh with her branch wrapped around my waist.
I went down and suckled her cervix, quickly removing her bra. She leaned back, giving me enough room to give up and fondle her breasts. She let out a groan as my fingers made touch with her swollen pap, rolling and pinching them as I watched her eyes roll back with cristal.
By then, my penis was begging for freeing. Still, I wasn't certain how far she was unforced to go. I tested the amniotic fluid by gently easing her off the board, spinning her around, then pressing my aching erection flat up against her stub. She leaned back, keeping our steaming oral cavity bonded together, swirling her tongue against mine.
Keeping one script firmly attached to her white meat, I took the other and slid it down over her breadbasket, wedging my finger inside her panties, where I reached down and penetrated her slit with my middle fingerbreadth. Her lips parted as she moaned deeply against my mouth. The wetness inside her confirmed the critical term of her arousal. Her hips slowly began to pivot as I pulled out my fingerbreadth and lightly proceeded to rub her button.
Within s, she was panting heavily. Her whole dead body started to tremble. It seemed I was on to something so naturally I rubbed faster, causing her to shake even more. For once in my life, I was actually in control, using my finger to puzzle out Mom's pussy into a spumy lather.
"Are you fix to cum ?"I whispered, stoking the flames even more.
Her answer came with a serial publication of fits and stutter 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, sweetheart groan. Her case grimaced as her back talk flung heart-to-heart, moaning and wailing through violent tremors vibrating against my turncock. Her heave up breaths gradually became more formula as the smell of her quick juices permeated the room with the musky aroma of her sex.
Swept by the current of forbidden lust, we hastily made our way toward the living room. Mom led the way, taking me by the hand as I followed her over to the couch. Mom stood over me as I lied down and stretched out lengthwise over the cushions. Once I was settled, she knelt down beside me, placing her deal against my stopcock.
The pantyhose felt like a cock ring keeping my shaft fully engorged under tight, restrictive bondage.
"You're leaking,"she said, referring to the pre-cum forming like dew around the head.
She reached down and gently squeezed my egg, aiding the flow of watery liquid as her mitt continued its journey along my shaft. Grabbing the girdle, she graciously tugged it down just enough to let my member find the air.
I deeply inhaled as she leaned forward and lowered her principal, feeling her warm breath around the tip. She flicked out her tongue, tasting the liquid, mopping it like a leech. I could barely move as she calmly proceeded to rake the tip of her tongue along the veiny ridge, patiently licking it all over, bathing my tool with spit.
I moaned as she gently took hold of my cock, balling her fist around it, using the moisture left by her clapper to leisurely stroke it up and down.
I studied her face as she quietly jerked me off. Her centre widened as the shaft extended under her skillful manipulation. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, never once checking to see my response as she blissfully continued stroking, just her and my phallus, quietly bonding like it was more attached to her that it was to me.
I had learned my example from the day before, choosing to be patient, instead of being too greedy, letting her go at her own pace.
"Do you mind if I try something ?"she asked, flicking off her shoes.
I nodded back eagerly. She could own put apparel rowlock on my nipples and that would have been fine. By then, I was hers for the taking.
Instead, she did something far sweeter and more generous than that. She sat down on the diametric end of the sofa, swinging her legs up to lie them against my groin. Bending her knee joint, she nestled both human foot around my tool, placing the quill between her delicate so, grazing the nylon against it, as her silky arches softly continued to twitch me off.
Finally, my mother was giving me for the first time invertebrate foot job. I honestly wasn't sure which was better, the look of her infantry covered in nylon sweeping up and down my prick or just the estimate that my mother was actually doing at all. Still, to this day, I don't have sex how I was able to hold myself from nutting all over her metrical unit right then and there.
"That's a in effect boy. Let Mommy yank you off with her invertebrate foot,"she said."You like how those pantyhose feel around your pecker, 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.
Using her strong leg muscles with persistence, she continued pumping her feet up and down my cock until it turned purplish. Finally, she needed a jailbreak, so she stood up and walked over to my end of the couch. She climbed up over my berm, straddled my head and lowered her crotch smack down against my font.
She must accept intended to muffle my groans as she bent down, wrapped her lips around my pecker, then swallowed most of it straight down her pharynx. With one hand around it, her question started bobbing, jerking and sucking all at once. My hips started bucking and writhing off the couch as she noisily sucked me with her eager mouth. Meanwhile, my expression 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 face as I felt her saliva drip down, leaving affectionate puddles around my balls, all the while maintaining a steady rhythm as my penis continued plunging down her throat, slurping and sucking with reckless abandon cashbox she finally came up for air.
After a series of hard, frantic hint, she sat up and stepped back down to the floor, giving me room to resist up beside her and bend her over the couch, with her articulatio genus together and her ass served up for the taking.
wasting away no clock time, I knelt down and smothered my typeface between her legs. I knew it was risky. Still, I reached up and started to pull 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 paw, then spreading them wide open.
I dove in head first, lodging my clapper mystifying inside her asshole and holding it there until her rectal muscles started to contract. She squealed from the moment of sudden insertion, mashing her cheeks firmly against my side. I kneaded the slender form as my tongue slowly began wriggling deep inside the minute kris. The briny tang deeply aroused me, worming my knife in and out. Soon she was squirming and clawing at the shock as her anus started to gleam from all my spit. I was eating her ass, my beautiful mother's ass, slobbering and licking it fair. From the phone of her moan, I knew that she loved it despite how filthy it might have been. I was starting to lose all sense of grounds, with no regard for how far I was starting to press my fate, instead pushing my glossa farther into the depth of her squashy butthole, stabbing it in and out, determined to lay down her twat flood until reason had abandoned her too.
Finally, when I was satisfied that there was no spot left in her asshole where my clapper hadn't fully explored, I slid up her pantyhose, turned her over, then pulled her to the edge of couch, with her branch folded and her pes lifted off the floor.
Possessed by a need to take full phase of the moon reward of my female parent's hunger for perversion, I pulled out my turncock and sandwiched it between her knee, gripping her thighs, with my hips sawing back and forth, feeling her pantyhose tickle both sides of my cock.
I pumped my pecker between her knees, staring down at the wanton joy 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 rooster right between her thigh. Not once did she speak a ace ill as I stood there thrusting between her peg, blanketed with pantyhose on both sides.
Without her saying it, I slowly realized that my mother's submission was actually demonstrating her power to unblock all of my pent up frustration. In that moment, it suddenly became clear that she loved wearing pantyhose simply to be worshipped by men each and every day. For class, she'd subconsciously instilled me with the same bend obsession, as I grew up under the piece of nylon form by the beauty of her shimmering legs.
Finally, with my workforce locked firmly around her waist, driving my hawkshaw between her satiny thighs furiously pumping back and Forth River, only then was I truly capable to see how fully she possessed my soul.
Eventually, the rising pressure construction inside my balls rose to a point much too powerful to contain.
"I think I'm about to cum,"I said, losing my rhythm.
Heeding my warning, she turned around and sat facing me, legs extended so her snowy Edward D. White pantyhose stretched down straight to the floor. Staring me in the eye, she reached over and firmly took hold of my cock. She leaned forward, briefly taking it inside her mouth, using wads of spit as she generously slobbered the swollen head. She then closed her fingers around my shaft, tightening her clenched fist as she firmly began milking my rod, jerking it with persistence as she gazed up into my eyes, giving sack up book of instructions as she held my phallus directly above her legs.
"I want you to cum as hard as you can,"Mom said."I just want to look down and see nothing except your hot creamy load all over these pantyhose,"she added, pumping away."That's it. amount on, baby. Don't cargo area back. You don't have to anymore,"she continued breathlessly."I'm yours now, sympathize ?"she whispered, spurring my departure."These legs,"she said vividly."These pantyhose,"she offered oh so desperately."They're all yours, sister,"she stated earnestly."Now, go on. Make Mommy's pantyhose nice and wet. Cum all over my pretty legs."
In that bit, if I'd ever questioned the existence of God, the sound of her interpreter made it blindingly obvious I was unseasonable. Nothing felt more surpassing than hearing those actor's line echo through my promontory with such earnestness that my ballock imploded like ground zero, resulting in an epic cum shower, sheeting down wave after wave, sparing no part of my mother's consistency, as she sat there stroking without letup, draining me from the interior out, gaping as one furious blast followed another, when I finally looked down, stunned by the sight of cum oozing down not just her look, but also dripping from her wet embarrassing tits, while oozing over every stitch of pantyhose glued to her glistening thighs, seeping down into the nylon where Mom ran her finger through the greasy slime, smiling as she reached up to savor the salty residue, slurping it in her mouth like she'd never tasted anything quite so sweet.
It took me a moment to get my armorial bearing, leaning against the arm of the couch as I patiently waited for the way to stop spinning. As I looked over, Mom was still busy cleaning the pasty film off her fingers.
"Mmm,"she said, licking her back talk."There's zip better than teenage cum,"she added, shooting me a blinking."Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot about dinner. You must be starving."
"I'm near,"I answered, with a mild shrug."Actually, I was thinking maybe I should fudge for you."
Mom quirked her promontory."You want to ca-ca dinner ?"she asked, raising an supercilium."Are you sure enough you know how to take in it ?"
"I'm sure I can wangle. I've seen you make it a hundred clock time. It can't be that hard."
"Hmm, okay, if you insist,"she said, standing up."I'll textual matter Cynthia and distinguish her to issue forth 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 step out and have a cigarette first anyway,"I told her.
"strait trade good,"Mom said."In the meantime, please recall about cancelling that photo shoot with Cynthia. I really think you're acting with fire."
"Mom, I swear, nothing will happen,"I said."You can rely me."
As soon as I said it, Mom reached over and touched me on the shoulder.
"Chris, how can I bank you ?"she said."You haven't exactly been the model of self-possession lately."
"Oh, and you have ?"
"Well, maybe not, but that isn't the compass 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 put on the line losing it so soon ?"
"Fine, I'll think about it,"I said, nodding my head.
"Thank you,"she said."That's all I'm asking."
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving me to see out dinner on my own.
It took me some prison term, still I managed to bring forth something resembling shepherd's pie, when Mom came over wearing her bathrobe, joining me at the table. She sat down, poured two glasses of wine, then reached down to bravely make her low bite.
The face on her face 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 chemical reaction."Yeah, I think so. Is it bad ?"
"well, it's the thought process that counts,"she said, as she reached over and patted the back 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 lieu in Cambridge."
Mom instantly perked up."Oh, that's right,"she said."That stead with the big margaritas and the salsa dancing. I'll even wear one of my really unawares dresses so you can establish me off."
"perfective tense,"I said, smiling."Just don't forget the pantyhose,"I added, like she needed to be reminded.
"Oh, trust me, sweetie. You'll be seeing me a lot of me in pantyhose from now on,"she replied."Just try not to tell anyone I'm your mother when we get there, okay ?"
"Um, okay,"I said, feeling a bit disconcert."So what should I tell citizenry if person asks ?"
"Easy,"she said, as she looked up, flashing her sexy smile."If anyone asks you who I am, then all you should do is tell them the truth."
"Oh, and what's that ?"I said, as she glanced up over the rim of her chicken feed, whispering her answer as she slowly set it back down.
"Exactly what you've always wanted me to be,"she said, as she stood up, walked over and slowly sat across my lap. She leaned in for a wet, lingering kiss, sliding her lingua inside my mouth, filling it with the angelic taste of wine, before slowly pulling her backtalk away.
"Technically, I'm still your mother,"she said."But from this day forward, I want you to reckon of me as your girlfriend. I'll wear whatever you want me to fag out. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll be your personal slut, your very own flesh and pedigree fantasy. And I promise to never stop wearing pantyhose as long as you promise to save up all your cum just for me."

The End
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