Mom's Pathfinder
byalwayswantedto©

Copyright © 2009, alwayswantedto. All Rights Reserved.

All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 or older.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Exploration Begins

I arrived home from my first year of college to find a different mother than the one I had left the previous fall. I didn't go home for Christmas, partly to spare the cost of flying across the country, and partly because I needed to study to help my faltering GPA. Dad's business had become quite competitive, so convincing Dad that it would save time and therefore money if I took some courses at the local college instead of working a summer job was quite an accomplishment for my mother. Dad actually seemed pleased that I wouldn't be helping out at the company, if not getting a summer job somewhere else. I was looking forward to a summer without work, and to thanking Mom by being helpful any way I could.

I was surprised when Mom picked me up at the airport. She looked at least five years younger with a sleeker, tanned look capped by a new hair style with more body and longer, falling to her shoulders in the 'wet' look that was so much in fashion. Her clothes were more fashionable too. I suspected that this, in addition to the economic arguments, was part of the package Mom used to persuade Dad to let me go to summer school.

The first two days I was back, I noticed that Mom worked hard to hone the non-economic aspects of her persuasive techniques. By the time I got up she had already completed a workout in the basement. She quickly made a protein drink in the blender while I gulped my eggs and toast down with a mug of coffee. Though sweating and flushed from her workout, she wasn't breathing hard. She looked good but I felt a twinge of guilt taking in her trimmer physique as I chewed my food. Jeez bud, I thought. You're looking at your Mom's body? How creepy can you get?

But hey. With her hand on her hip as she waited impatiently for the blender to finish its work, it was hard not to admire Mom's legs, the jut her butt, the deep dip from her hip into her waist, and the swell of her swollen breast under the damp t-shirt. When she shook her head, her hair seemed to swish back and forth in slow motion, like a sexy woman in a deodorant commercial; except it was my mom.

Mom stared at the blender as it worked, allowing me plenty of time to soak in her new, exciting self. As she passed by me, drink in hand, she spoke a few cheery before disappearing upstairs. A few minutes later, she sauntered back through the kitchen as I rinsed my dishes in the sink. As I put the dishes in the dishwasher, I creepily looked out the open kitchen door to watch my mother walk slowly toward the pool in a very brief bikini I had never seen before. Wow!

That day, I sat in the backyard and looked at Mom a lot. Though discreet, I got the feeling she was aware of my appreciating gaze. Sure enough, I became tongue-tied when she said, "I haven't changed that much Jason. Just a little sun and exercise."

After several long seconds during struggling to formulate a defense, Mom bailed me out, "Come put some sunscreen on for me. I won't bite, I'm the same old Mom."

She held out a squeeze bottle of suntan lotion which I took, advisedly squelching my lame response. I knelt down on the grass beside the mat Mom was lying on. As soon as I grabbed the lotion, she folded her arms and laid her head on them, closing her eyes. I applied the lotion to her shoulders and then worked my way out her upper arms, pushing her hair out of the way, before skipping to her lower back below the tie for her bikini top. I can't say I didn't enjoy it but I was a little uncomfortable with my feelings as I rubbed my mother's warm skin and I was about to get up when I finished her back but Mom stopped me.

"Hey," she said without opening her eyes. "Do under the strap."

I put a little lotion on my fingers and gingerly spread it under the bikini strap crossing Mom's back. I felt very uncomfortable when my fingers approached the side and quit before going over the edge where I could see Mom's breast squishing out around the edge of the tiny top. I jumped up, ready to go back to my seat.

"Whoa," Mom said, lifting her head. "Legs," she jerked her head back, then lowered it back onto her arms.

"Oh. Ok," I said, sheepishly.

I knelt down beside Mom's legs, squirted some lotion in my palm, and started applying it to the back of Mom's calves. I must have daydreamed for awhile because Mom had to tell me to stop putting it on there and to do above her knees. Her voice startled me because when I came to my senses I realized that I had been staring at Mom's behind. As I rubbed the lotion into the back of Mom's thighs, I consciously noted how skimpy her bikini was. It barely covered her buttocks. I could see the start of the crevice above her bikini and the material below did little to disguise its presence. An anxious sensation spread through my abdomen and my chest felt restricted. Try as I might, I couldn't look away from Mom's bottom.

I didn't quit rubbing until Mom said, "Thanks, Jason. That should be enough for the afternoon."

I was dismissed. I struggled to my feet and walked awkwardly away, with a lump in my shorts.

* * * * *

I was bothered by my thoughts for the rest of the afternoon. The next day and the one after that, Mom suntanned again for a couple of hours but she didn't ask me to do her back and legs for her. I was convinced I had given myself away and was embarrassed about it but Mom didn't act differently toward other than not asking me to rub suntan lotion on her. I guess if she had noticed, she wasn't too bothered by it. I started to feel glad she hadn't asked me to put lotion on her; happy to avoid another uncomfortable situation. Sort of, anyway.

Then we had the dinner. The dinner table was graced with casual and light-hearted conversation. Everything was fine until Dad remarked, "Oh, I have to go back in tonight. Sorry, sweetheart."

I didn't think anything of it. Mom didn't reply, but after she scooped as second helping of mashed potatoes, unusual for her, onto her plate. She set the bowl down sharply on the table.

"I'm sorry, honey. It can't be helped."

"Mmhhmm," was Mom's only response.

Dad started to say something more but Mom cut him off.

"I don't want to talk about it."

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence until Dad responded to my efforts to renew our conversation. Mom didn't join in.

After dinner, Mom left the kitchen and went to her room. Dad didn't follow, but he called up to say goodbye before leaving. Mom didn't come downstairs that night and I cleaned up the kitchen by myself.

The next day followed the same routine as before. I was watching Mom lying in the sun, wishing she would ask me to do her back for her, thinking it would make her feel better and, yes, I wanted to touch her again - to hell with uncomfortable feelings. The phone rang and I ran to get it. I was nervous relaying Dad's message to Mom: He wouldn't be home for dinner; he had to work late.

Mom didn't raise her head or open her eyes to look at me. She just nodded, picked up the lotion and twisted her arm back toward me, holding it out in her hand. I took the bottle and dropped to my knees beside her, squirting a generous portion of lotion into my palm; it was warm in my hand. I hesitated briefly before turning my hand over and pressing my palm to Mom's upper back. Softly, I moved my hand in a widening circle, slowly, afraid to disturb Mom's thoughts. I felt she wanted me present for comfort but she also wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

I worked Mom's shoulders, massaging more than rubbing the lotion in. I was consciously trying to soothe her pain, aiming for relaxation. When I moved to Mom's lower back, I spread the lotion out from the shallow groove of her spine, down to the two large dimples on either side just above the rising swell of her buttocks. Mom's skin rippled before the edge of my hands as I pushed outward, over the dimples and onto the fleshiness of her hips before twisting up to curl around her waist.

Finally, I finished and lifted my hands from Mom's back but she reached behind herself with both hands and tugged on the tied bow of her bikini, pulling the straps away and laying them on the mat beside her. I stared at Mom's bare back with the faint mark where the strap had been. The strap removed, her back seemed so much longer, and elegant. I squirted a few drops of lotion across the mark and rubbed it in.

I should have been done then but instead I placed my hands flat on Mom's back and spread them out to the sides, just as I'd done with her lower back. I pushed until my hands fell over the edge, but this time they didn't scrape over Mom's waist, they pushed onto the fatty swells squishing out from her sides. Quickly, I pulled my hands away to avoid a rebuke, as if it was an accident, and returned to Mom's back. A moment later, I started on her legs.

As I rubbed the lotion into Mom's legs in long, loving strokes, I noticed that she was crying. It was so soft, I wouldn't have known if I couldn't feel the tremors in her legs. I hated my father at that moment, but not as much as I did on Saturday when he was called into work again.

Some time after Dad left, I went to the store to pick some things up for Mom. I drove past Dad's work. Strangely, his car wasn't there. Great, I thought. He's gone home already. But his car wasn't there when I got home. What is going on?

Mom was lying on the mat in the sun when I got home. Her bikini top was already undone. I put the groceries away and walked out to join her. She didn't need to ask. I picked up the lotion and started rubbing it into her back right away. I took a long time but there was no sobbing this time. I let my hands stray over the fleshy part of her squished out boobs several times. Twice, I stroked over them from below as my fingers rubbed up Mom's sides.

When I finished, I stayed by Mom's side. I didn't talk but she knew I was still there. After a while, I put the tip of my index finger between her shoulder blades and slowly dragged it down, following the course of her spine to the base of her back. Then, I traced a random, wandering path back up Mom's back.

"Let's go on a little trip," I said. "We'll explore the world, looking here and there, searching every nook and corner, until we find our own special way. Let your mind go and follow the Pathfinder."

Mom chuckled. It was a wonderful sound. I couldn't count the hours, when I was little, that Mom tickled my back until I fell asleep, delicately tracing the tip of her finger around and around, over my back, down my arms and legs, until I drifted into sleep. Follow the Pathfinder, she would whisper softly in my ear, and pocket all the treasures you find until you find a safe place to sleep.

A huge surge of goodness welled up inside me when Mom sighed out loud and wiggled her shoulders to get into a more comfortable position as my finger trailed over her back and across her shoulders. She was settling in for a long session, knowing how much payback she was owed. I readied myself for a Herculean effort.

Mom unfolded her arms and stretched them out beside her when my finger left her back to trace their lines. I was startled because she seemed to be asleep, a demeanor she resumed when my finger traveled up and down her upper arm, then across her neck and shoulder to do the other arm. Again, and again.

Mom's breathing was very shallow when my finger made its way past her elbow and up the inside of her upper arm, a scant inch from her boob which had squished farther out after she stretched her arms out. This time, instead of crossing over to the other arm, I curved my finger down to trace the edge of Mom's back, past her squashed breast and along her waist to her hip. On the return trip, I allowed my finger to trace a line lower down, almost to the front of Mom's waist, and then quickly over the fleshy swell before swooping up to her shoulder and onto her arm again.

My breath caught as fear welled up inside me, bracing for an adverse action from Mom. Why did you do that? I admonished myself. What are you thinking?

Down Mom's arm and across again to do the other arm but still no reaction from Mom, so I traced a line down her waist, this time on the side nearest to me. Again, on the return trip, I let my finger run over the swell of her breast, my breath catching in my throat as I quickly continued around on Mom's back. It wasn't long before Mom's docile demeanor encouraged my errant finger to once again rub over her womanly swell. A few minutes later, it dawned on me that my finger was enjoying this path too often to keep getting away with it so I lifted my hand completely away. Mom issued a discontented groan so I dropped my hand onto the back of her leg and scribed a trail down toward her knee.

"Fingertips," Mom mumbled. "Tread lightly, the Pathfinder says," she said, recalling more memories of the calming platitudes she once whispered in my ear as I fell asleep under the magic of her finger, my Pathfinder.

I lifted my fingers, leaving just the tip of my index finger touching the back of her thigh. For a long time, my finger trailed up and down Mom's legs and even onto her feet. Mom giggled quietly every time my finger dragged down the length of her sole and I felt good, knowing I was making her feel better, helping her forget Dad's absence. I loved the soft, springy feel of her calves. Eventually, I moved up past Mom's knees to casually drag my finger up and down the back of her thighs while I stared at the flattened sides of her breasts. My strokes had become shorter as my mind wandered and my hand lazily drooped into the crevice formed by the press of her legs.

Once, when Mom reacted to a particularly sensitive stroke, my hand fell, striking the mat between her opened legs. I quickly recovered, yanking my hand back up onto Mom's thigh but my attention was now focused on her legs, which remained parted, and I realized with a zing through my groin that I had been missing an even better sight than the side of her breast. Mom's bikini bottoms. There were smaller than any panties she was likely to wear, small enough that she never wore it anywhere but in our backyard.

Looking down, I realized how little of Mom's ass her suit actually covered, and also how well the flimsy material clung to the contours of her butt. I could even make out a different puffy formation in the arch between her legs. That shot a real zing through me. The maternal pussy!

Just then, Mom wiggled her hips and I realized my hand had fallen between her legs again and was lying dormant on the mat. With a start, I put it back in motion and Mom sighed her approval. I traced a circle around the back of each thigh, cautiously letting my finger run a deeper line along the inside of Mom's thighs, venturing close to the V in her legs, but not too close.

After a long while of this, I dug my finger in a little as I changed direction at the top of Mom's leg, tugging her skin away from her bikini bottom. Fascinated by the intriguing gap that momentarily appeared each time, I didn't notice the new odor in the air for several minutes. When I caught the first whiff, I looked around but couldn't locate a likely source nearby. I lowered my head again until my face was just above my wicked finger. Ah ha. The smell was emanating from the conjunction of Mom's legs. Was she was creaming her pants?

Despite intense scrutiny, I couldn't see any visible evidence to confirm my olfactory hypothesis. I pressed harder, intensifying the pull of my finger which I was sure had produced this intoxicating new scent, but I still couldn't see anything. My face was so close to Mom's butt that she almost hit me when she suddenly twisted her hip away from the matt to get up onto her side. I jerked back, my face reddening, knowing my face had no business being where it was.

"That was great, Jason. Very relaxing." A confused expression flitted across Mom's face as she noted my proximity to her behind but quickly disappeared as she noted my embarrassment.

"No sweat, Mom. Anytime," I blurted, trying to recover my composure but hampered by the sight of Mom trying to hold her bikini top over breasts with one hand while she used the other to take her weight as she swung on it to help herself up. I rose to my feet ahead of her, extending my hand to help Mom up.

"You can say that again. I put a lot of years into your back you have to make up for," Mom laughed.

Mom reached to take my hand but lost her balance and quickly dropped her other hand behind to break her fall as she swung back the other way. Her smiling face slowly changed to shock as she watched her bikini top fall across her waist. Following my awed gaze, she looked down at her bare breasts, splayed one to each side, bouncing on her chest, nipples firm and strong.

"Ohhhh," she cried, unable to cover her jubilant jugs with both hands busy behind her supporting her weight.

I reached down into Mom's lap and grabbed her top. Mom grasped my proffered hand and let me pull her to her feet.

"That was a nasty surprise," Mom laughed nervously, trying to make light of the situation as soon as she was on her feet.

Mom took the top from my hand and stretched it underneath her breasts, lifting and making minor sideways adjustments so the cups fit properly, in no apparent hurry to cover the tops. Mom's breasts were sexier than I could have imagined. Despite being the full breasts of a mature woman, they were quite jaunty, and capped by a perky set of cheeky nipples.

"Darn. This thing's so finicky," Mom complained, flustered and laughing nervously again as she struggled with the top, unable to find the perfect fit she was seeking. "Close your eyes, Jason" Mom ordered.

"Take your time Mom," I cheekily suggested, closing my eyes but not all the way, leaving a narrow slit to peek through, as I did when Mom played hide'n'seek with me as a child. I watched intently as she adjusted her tits in the bikini cups. Her breast were in full display right in front of me, nipples standing firm and proud. For some reason, I was no longer embarrassed, perhaps because Mom was.

"Jason!" Mom sounded miffed but she was still laughing. Finally, she pulled the top up, covering her sexy nipples and slid the straps behind her back to tie them together.

"You peeked," Mom scolded me lightheartedly as she tied her top, her breasts thrust hard forward, nipples prominently outlined. "You brat."

I followed Mom into the kitchen, admiring the way her cheeks took turns moving up and down, instinctively understanding why that motion could mesmerize any man, something few women could comprehend.

"Oh my. Look at the time. I'm late for Jenny's tea."

Mom rushed upstairs. I poured myself a cold drink and waited for my erection to subside. Thank god Mom hadn't noticed that, and thank god I hadn't thought about it or I may have looked down and given myself away. Thinking about what had just happened didn't allow my erection to go away. Twenty minutes passed, and still no Mom. I called upstairs.

"Mom?"

I walked to the bottom of the stairs.

"Mom?" No answer.

I walked up the stairs, calling again. Still no answer. Her door was ajar and I called, more quietly, as I pushed it slowly open, more to let her know I was coming so she warn me away if she wasn't decent.

Mom was lying face down on her bed. The bikini was on the floor and a white blouse and bra were draped over the pillow beside Mom's head. She was wearing a dark skirt and stockings but her back was bare.

"Mom?" I whispered. "Mom?"

There was no answer.

"You'll be late for Jenny's tea," I said.

Mom rose up on her elbows and twisted around to face me. Her eyes were red and her cheeks wet.


"Can call her for me, please, and tell her I don't feel well?"

Mom flopped down again, but not before I saw her left breast, the whole thing, hanging free.

"Sure Mom." I turned away to make the call.

"And then come back and tell me if she sounded upset," Mom's added, her voice muffled by the pillow.

After I called Mom's friend, I crept quietly into her room. I was just about to turn away, sure Mom was sleeping, when she asked, "What did she say?"

"She was worried about you but I told her it wasn't anything serious, just one of those woman things."

"You what?" Mom rose up again and turned to look at me, aghast. "You didn't," she added, laughing.

I laughed back, shrugged, and stretched my hands out to my sides. Mom didn't seem to realize that her tit was hanging free.

"Oh, you brat." Mom flopped down onto the bed.

I stepped closer. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No. I'm just going to have a little lie down."

"Do you want me to wake you in an hour or so?"

"No. Can you stay here for a few minutes?"

"Sure." I sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you OK, Mom?"

There was a long pause before Mom answered. "Yes," she said. "I'll be fine in few minutes."

Mom stopped talking and I didn't bother her, realizing she wanted to rest, but I soon became bored. I didn't even notice that my hand had started tickling her back until Mom spoke.

"Fingertips, please."

Startled, I looked down to see my flat hand rubbing a small circle around Mom's lower back. I pulled my palm up and traced a path around with just the tip of my finger. I waited until Mom's breathing had been quite shallow for quite a while before I ventured to explore her sides. I was thankful that Mom had twisted around to speak to me earlier. That action caused her left breast to stick out more on the side nearest me. As lightly as I could, I traced my fingertip over its swollen form.

It must have been half an hour before I switched down to Mom's legs. Unfortunately, her legs were covered by her pull-up stockings. Undeterred, I trailed my finger up and down both legs but soon tired and ventured under Mom's skirt to the top of her stockings.

"What are you doing?" Mom mumbled.

Surprised she was awake, I nevertheless kept my cool.

"You still have your stockings on," I said, as if that explained everything.

"Oh," Mom replied.

Thrilled by her docile response, I pushed my right hand further up her skirt, scratching my finger around between her thighs. This was so unbelievably great. For some reason, it seemed way hotter to have my hand under her skirt even though I couldn't see what was going on. Thinking about that, I pulled Mom's skirt up with my left hand.

"What are you doing," Mom said again.

"I can't see what I'm doing," I replied.

"Oh," Mom said.

I pulled Mom's skirt up until I could see what I was doing. Mom even lifted her hips to make it easier for me to drag the skirt up. As I worked my fingertip around and around between Mom's thighs, I slowly pulled the loosened skirt up until her whole behind was bared. Wow! These panties, black and lacy, were way skimpier that the bikini now decorating Mom's floor. They barely came halfway up her ass and formed a smaller triangle than the swimsuit. Best of all, the material was even finer than the bikini and I could see the outlines of the start of Mom's pussy.

That prompted me to start my little scratches and tugs high on Mom's legs, near the bottom of her panties. It wasn't long before I detected a faint trace of that sweet, mysterious odor. I applied myself more diligently, trying to increase the concentration of that lovely scent in the air, to fill my nostrils with its presence.

"What are you doing, Jason?" Mom mumbled.

"I'm just taking your stockings off so I can do the rest of your legs," I answered.

Mom didn't reply. Not even an 'oh'.

I took my time pulling Mom's stockings off, partly because I enjoyed it and partly because I didn't want to make any fast moves that would jar Mom out of her acquiescent mood.

When I returned to my ministrations, I concentrated on the area close to Mom's panties. I never had any intention of doing the rest of her legs but pulling her stockings off had allowed me to open her legs wider, yielding a better view of Mom's panties, even opening a small gap on each side. I peered intently, looking for any sign of the dampness I knew must underlie that pungent odor, but still to no avail.

Mom didn't question my continued presence exclusively between her upper thighs and the absence of any query or complaint emboldened my wayward finger which was soon stroking only in the little hollow at the top of each leg. Scratch, scratch, scratch.

The odor was strong now but I couldn't see anything. I leaned over so far, I had to stretch my left arm over Mom's hips to brace myself. I was now lying across Mom's back, facing back. Soon, I was resting on my left elbow, and my left hand was hanging over Mom's butt, just above the hem of her panties. Cautiously, I lowered it until I could pinch the waistband. Carefully, I tugged up, tightening the panties against Mom's cheeks.

"Mmmmmm."

Mom's murmur caught me off guard. I froze, expecting all hell to break loose. But Mom didn't move. If anything, her bottom moved very slightly upward, against the tugging pressure I was exerting on her panties. I tugged a little harder.

"Mmmmmmmm," Mom responded.

I began tugging regularly, ever so lightly, in the same way I had tugged on Mom's skin earlier this afternoon. I wasn't rewarded with the little 'mmmmm' sound each time, but often enough to keep my cock rock hard in my shorts.

I don't know when I first did it. I was so carried away with tugging Mom's panties that I didn't even notice, but suddenly became aware of the scrape of Mom's panty leg against the tip of my finger. I was stroking the leg of her panties, right next to her pubes!

"Mmmmmmmmm," Mom purred.

Stroke, stroke, stoke.

"Mmmmm, mmmm, mmmmmmm."

That's when I did it. I slipped my fingertip directly onto Mom's panties, and stopped, dead still.

Mom went rigid. Time stopped.

Then Mom moved. Her arms rose along the mattress at her sides. I thought she was pushing herself up. I didn't know what to do, so I didn't do anything, staying rock still, like a statue. Mom rustled about. I looked around, terrified, hoping Mom wasn't looking angrily back at me.

Mom had pulled the pillow over her head. A hand at each end held it firmly in place.

I turned back. My fingertip was frozen on Mom's panties, held still in a shallow groove. I moved it ever so slightly, ready to jump free of the bed upon Mom's first yell.

"Mmmmmmmmm."

A little wiggle.

"Mmmmmmm."

Her panties were very damp. I don't know why I couldn't see that. Because they were black, I guess.

More wiggles and "mmmm's". Her bottom pushed her puffiness back as my wiggly fingertip deepened the little groove in the center of her damp panties. I pushed my finger up and down, then sideways, even in a little circle. It didn't matter what I did, I was awarded with longer and deeper, "mmmmmm's".

I was wondering if I could get away with slipping my finger inside Mom's panties when the front door slammed. I yanked my hand away from Mom's bottom.

"I'm home," my father announced, loud enough for the neighbors at the end of the street to hear. I heard him clomp into the kitchen, heard the fridge open and shut, followed by the screen on the patio door open and close. Dad had grabbed a beer.

I was standing, although I didn't remember getting up. Mom pulled the pillow from her head and sat up, sighing, looking like she had just woken up. She held her hands over her breasts but haphazardly. She wasn't doing a very good job of covering them. Her right arm stretched out, completely exposing her right tit.

"Can you hand me my blouse, baby?" she asked in a sleepy voice, continuing to hold her arm out.

I stooped and picked up Mom's white blouse from the chair next to her bedside table and turned to hand it to her, deliberately holding it to her left side. Mom took it in that hand, exposing her other breast. She held the blouse in her lap for a minute, seemingly unaware that her breasts were hanging free. She yawned, then slowly lifted the blouse and slipped one arm into a sleeve, followed by the other. Mom lifted her arms. I took her hands and pulled her to her feet, then stood there watching while she buttoned her blouse, from the bottom up, as if she had all the time in the world. Mom looked down as she worked. If she was paying any attention at all, she couldn't miss the big lump in my shorts. It was a surreal scene.

"Thanks, baby," Mom whispered, standing up on tippy-toe to give me a light kiss on my cheek. Then she turned and walked barefoot out the door and downstairs to greet my father.

I went to the bathroom.

* * * * *

I stayed in my room until Mom called me down for dinner. It was another quiet affair though Dad tried hard to make it pleasant. His effort fell flat because Mom was unresponsive and I wasn't in the mood to help. After dinner, I cleaned up the dishes while my parents sat outside to enjoy the setting sun. It was appreciated in solitude. My parents didn't speak.

Just as I finished, they both came in the house and went into the living room. I joined them. Dad was watching TV and Mom was reading. I joined her on the couch.

A couple of hours later, Dad said, "Oh, I forgot. I picked up a movie."

He put the DVD into the machine but Mom got up and said she was going to bed early. Dad shrugged and sat down, manipulating the remote to start his movie. A few minutes after Mom went upstairs, I got up too.

"I think I'll study a bit and go to bed too, Dad." He nodded and I headed upstairs, leaving him alone.

I looked in Mom's room as I passed her open door. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, already changed into her nightie, a shimmery blue, knee-length affair. Mom was staring at the carpet in front of her.

I continued on to my room, fired up my computer and stripped off my t-shirt and shorts while it booted up. I walked down the hallway to the bathroom in my underwear. Mom's door was still open with the light on. I wandered down and peeked in her door.

Mom was still sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor. She looked up but didn't turn to look at her. Had she heard me arrive at the doorway? I couldn't tell. She twisted around to lie on her stomach. The covers had been pulled down and lay in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed.

I switched off Mom's bedroom light, thinking she was aware of my presence and expected me to do that so she could go to sleep. I stood in the doorway, watching Mom's shadowy form in the summer twilight and listening to the sounds of Dad's movie wafting up the stairs. I was about to leave when Mom's feet shifted, opening her legs to the wider position they'd been this afternoon.

I looked back towards the living room, then stepped into Mom's room. Slowly, I walked to the bed and, after a long pause, sat cautiously on the edge of the bed. As soon as my weight depressed the mattress, Mom's hands moved. She pulled the pillow over the back of her head and wiggled, as if trying to find a very comfortable position, one that would last for a while.

I gazed at Mom, taking in the fine outline of her body, admiring the shape evident beneath the thin, silky material of the nightie that clung to her narrow waist and wide hips, settled over the mounds of her buttocks and sank between her thighs. Mom was still. She made no sound to prompt me into action, or to shoo me away.

I dropped my hand to the hem of Mom's nightie and pinched the material between thumb and forefinger. Carefully, I pulled the hem up, dragging the nightie up Mom's thighs and over her buttocks, revealing a matching set of panties. I dropped the hem onto Mom's waist, then pinched the folded over nightie just below Mom's bottom and pulled it up to drop it onto Mom's waist too.

I paused to admire Mom's butt. The thin material of the skimpy blue panties accented her womanly bottom more that hid its charms. I felt in no hurry. Dad's movie had just started and Mom didn't seem about to send me away. It was time to blaze a trail.

I reached back and put my fingertip into the middle of Mom's foot, squirreled it around in several small circles, then slowly scratched it up the back of her calf, around the back of her knee several times, and then up her thigh. I didn't stop at the top of Mom's leg. Instead, I pushed my finger onto Mom's panties to the waistband, traced its edge from one dimple to the other, and then dragged it over her right buttock and down her thigh, careened over Mom's well-muscled calf and onto the sensitive sole of the other foot.

Then I retraced my path to lock it in my mind, and wear it into Mom's body. Fifteen minutes later, I was tracing the same path, only when I traversed the back of Mom's thighs, my finger dipped between to taste the soft, tender flesh there. I worked closer and closer to the join between Mom's legs, but I didn't hurry. I was not in a rush. I felt calm, almost serene.

I restricted my path to Mom's thighs, circling around the back of her knees and dipping deep between her legs, running up her inner thighs until my finger struck her panties. My finger didn't climb all the way up her buttock anymore. Instead, it merely rose and pressed into the crevice between her cheeks before sliding down to the opposite thigh.

Soon, I allowed the path to Mom's knees to fallow, concentrating on the fleshiest part of her thighs and, of course, the treasured path over the pass. Back and forth the Pathfinder traveled, restless, tireless. Eventually he tires, limiting his travels just to the pass, over and back, over and back. The treasured scent pulling him back each time he strayed too far. Finally, it happened, this time so long in coming.

"Mmmmmmm."

A minute later, the Pathfinder was awarded with another soft murmur and a gentle backward push just as he crested the pass.

I rubbed harder and was instantly rewarded with a longer and louder purr and an accompanying firmer thrust from Mom's bottom. I brought my other hand into play, resting it on Mom's back for a moment before gripping the waistband of her panties, as I had that afternoon. I tugged upward, pulling them tight against Mom's pussy. My fingertip now stayed at the crest of the pass. It no longer strayed, remaining only to meet each subtle push of Mom's panties, pushing them ever deeper into her secret valley.

My other hand released the waistband of Mom's panties and slipped inside, caressing her bare ass, at the same time that the Pathfinder's adjacent companions joined it to form a larger pestle to mill Mom's pussy.

She was purring constantly now. Moaning under the pillow really, and I was breathing very heavily, more excited than I had ever been in my life. I met each upward thrust of Mom's naughty behind more and more firmly. On one such upward thrust, Mom's hips rose and her legs suddenly snapped shut on my hand, trembling violently for about a minute, before relaxing and falling back to the bed. My hand was suddenly quite slick, with sweat? Not likely.

Mom was still. I withdrew my hand, curious about the way it glistened in even in the semi-darkness. I pulled Mom's nightie down, smoothing it over her bottom, allowing my hands to linger and enjoy the shape of her ass and the springiness of her buttocks. Mom lay quiet while I treasured her gorgeous swells.

Finally, unsteadily, I walked out of Mom's room and made my way directly to the bathroom. I didn't bother closing the door. I went straight to the toilet, lifted the seat, and vigorously wanked myself off. I didn't try to be quiet. Mom had a pillow over her head, after all and Dad was watching his movie.

Mom didn't act in any way different toward me then next day. It was Sunday. Dad was home all the day, so I didn't have a chance to play Pathfinder with Mom. She did lie out in the sun in her bikini, but I didn't feel comfortable asking her if she wanted me to put lotion on, not with Dad there, and she didn't ask.

For the next four days, even though I was home in the afternoons, Mom didn't suntan. This was a huge disappointment for me and I began to think that I had really crossed the line. Well, duh! Of course, I had. I had thought that Mom was OK with it, covering her head and all, but now I wasn't so sure. On Friday, Mom did suntan, but by the time I realized and joined her, she got up and went in the house. I was coming upstairs, hoping to find her stretched out on her bed again when she exited her room, fully dressed and informed me she was going out shopping.

That night, after dinner, Mom and I were sitting on the couch while Dad sat in his chair watching TV. Mom was leaning with her back against the arm, reading, and I was watching the TV with Dad.

"I'm going to have to work again, Saturday." Dad's voice was hesitant, as if he was expecting a blow up.

"That's ok, Richard. I know you have to work hard."

"You don't mind?" Dad asked, surprised, turning to look at Mom's back which was toward him.

"No, I don't mind." Mom twisted half-way around to smile at Dad. "Anyway, Jason will keep me company, won't you son?" Mom turned back to look at me sitting at the other end of the couch. She stretched her foot out and nudged the side of my leg. "Won't you?" she urged a response.

"Yeah, sure Mom. I'll keep you busy."

Mom smiled broadly. Dad was already absorbed in the TV again. Mom poked my leg again, digging her toe in, a quaint smile gracing her face. She returned her attention to her book but dug her toe in again, continuing to smile. I tried to push her foot away but my hand slipped way up her calf to the underside of her knee, surprising both of us. Mom looked up at me over her knees, the smile dropping from her face, then returned to her book. I kept my hand where it was, cupping her calf just below her knee. Mom dug her toe into my leg, but lighter this time. I circled my fingertip around the underside of her knee. Mom's smile widened.

I enjoyed watching TV for the next half hour. The Pathfinder lazily stroked up and down the inside of Mom's thighs while I struggled to keep my breath under control. I was pleased to note that Mom was facing a similar problem. I had reached the stage where the Pathfinder was staying near the roost when Mom suddenly snapped her book shut and swung her legs off the couch.

"Well, I think I'll go to bed early again," she announced. "I'm just so tire lately," she added, as if an explanation was warranted.

Mom got up and leaned down to give Dad a kiss. I couldn't wait. Only two minutes later, I informed Dad of my similar intention and hurried up the stairs. I stopped in Mom's open doorway. She hadn't yet undressed. Standing her back toward me, Mom reached behind herself with both hands and unzipped her dress. With a simple shrug and squiggle of her hips, she dropped the dress to the floor. The bra experience a similar fate a moment later. Mom's boss figure stood before me, adorned only in a brief pair of panties. I was amazed, because I knew she was aware of my presence, though she hadn't looked back. I was about to be more amazed.

Mom kneeled onto the bed, her breasts dangling as she leaned over on all fours, then stretched out on the mattress, lying face down. She grabbed a pillow, pulled it over her head, and was still.

My cock was rock hard. Was she inviting me? I looked back down the hall to check on Dad just in time to see the light in the living room snap off. He was coming up!

I scrambled down the hall and into my room, pushing the door almost shut. I listened to my father's footsteps as he tread up the stairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom. I peered through my door, ears perked for the slightest sound.

"Sandra, for God's sake. The door's wide open."

"What?" I heard Mom respond.

"The door. Jason is home. You should have closed it before getting undressed."

"Don't be ridiculous, Richard. Jason was already in his room before I got undressed."

I listened to the sounds of my father getting ready for bed. The light from my parents' room flicked off. Several minutes later, I heard my mother's low voice through her still open door.

"No, Richard. Don't."

The faint sound of a rustling sheet followed.

"Stop it."

"I mean it. I'm tired.

More rustling

"No...stop."

"Don't."

"Mmmmmm."

Rustling. More rustling.

"Mmmmmm."

The bed creaked.

"Ohhhhhhhhh."

More creaking.

"Ohhhhhhh, Richard."

The creaking increased, and became rhythmic.

"ohhh...ohhhh...ohhhh."

I shut the door and threw myself onto my bed. I couldn't listen anymore to my father fucking my mother. It should have been me. I'm the one that got her ready. It was my Pathfinder that made her moist, and that bastard was reaping the benefits. I was angry. Very angry.

I Discover Sandy

I was glum at breakfast the next morning. I should have tried to camouflage my mood lest it reveal my clandestine aural observation of my parent's coupling, but I couldn't help it. My father was oblivious anyway, concerned only with his particularly cheery mood. But Mom noticed. Of that I was sure, and I wanted her to know I was displeased.

After breakfast, Mom and dad repaired to their recliners, side by side, in the backyard. Both sipped coffees, Dad reading the paper while Mom read her book. The picture of quiet suburban bliss.

I sauntered out in my suit, ready for a swim. I noticed that Mom had dragged her mat along the side of her lounge. She patted it as I approached. I looked at the pool and decided I wasn't quite ready for swim so I sat down and then stretched out on my back beside Mom.

I felt awkward for several minutes, still feeling restrained anger toward both my parents, but eventually I relaxed and became part of the family bliss. The happy parents and their offspring. I curled my arms behind my head and closed my eyes, enjoying the late morning sun.

Ahhh that felt good. I was lying on the teacher's desk at school while Mrs. Anderson, my home room teacher at school, stroked my scrotum, explaining the simple workings of the male sex organs to the class. Ahhhh Mrs. Anderson, I would love to have fucked her.

My mind jerked back to consciousness. I didn't open my eyes but I knew I was lying on a mat beside my mother. There it was again. Mom's fingers bouncing lightly on my thighs, just below my swimsuit. I lay still, trying to control my breathing, pretending to be asleep.

A minute or two later Mom's hand left but quickly returned, granting another feathery visit. How long have has she been doing this?

I swallowed a groan. Mom's fingertips were resting near my trunks. A minute passed. Mom's fingers left. I heard a page turn and then her fingers returned, nestling gently in the 'V' formed by my legs. Another minute, and Mom's soft fingers disappeared again. Another page turn. I opened my legs, just in time for Mom's return. Her fingers dangled in the same spot but without a firm place to rest, they extended, lightly gripping the inside of my thigh just below my trunks.

Mom's hand rose again a minute later. Quickly, I wiggled down a couple of inches on the mat. Mom's fingers were back, falling between my legs, the back edge of her hand scraping along the bottom of my suit. Oh god, her fingers curled around the inside of my thigh and her nails lightly scratched my leg.

Another lift. Another page turn. Another scrunch lower on the mat. Mom's hand returned, colliding with my trunks, right were my bulge betrayed my lust. They were confused, at first trying to extend, then swirling around, as if trying to find their way. Ahhhh the feeling of Mom's delicate fingertips feeling their way over the front of my suit, feathering over my burgeoning cock. Awesome.

Oh jeez. Her fingers weren't staying still, instead continuing their swirling search for a place to rest, scratching, fingers twirling around, not leaving, staying, grazing and caressing my lump of love. I wanted to see it for myself but I was afraid to look, afraid that she would stop. I couldn't help it, I opened my eyes.

I could see Mom's hair but not her face. I could see from the cant of her head that she was reading. Her left arm dangled off the lounge and her hand slowly swirled across my trunks, dragging her trailing fingers over my swollen cock. I pressed up, begging for a firmer grip. Please hold it, I pleaded silently. I bunched the muscles in my buttocks and urged my groin up, pushing into Mom's fingers. They stop swirling...then opened, allowing my hardness to slip between her graceful digits. I gritted my teeth and clamped my lips shut as Mom's fingers allowed my intrusion. Were they welcoming me? Were her fingers closing over me, or was that just my imagination?

Just then, my father rattled his paper, folding it and tossing it to the ground. He sat up, Mom's hand jerked up to grip her book, and I twisted frantically around to lie on my stomach. My father was already at the patio door. He turned to Mom, right behind him.

"No, don't get up. Stay and relax."

Dad put his arms around Mom and kissed her. The brief goodbye peck turned into a longer, more involved affair. I could see their mouths working together as my semen surged out of my cock, filling my swimsuit. My parents disappeared into the kitchen. I got up and followed, sneaking by and running up the stairs as they kissed again by the front door.

When I came down, showered and dressed, Mom was nearing the door, sunglasses on and purse in hand.

"I'm going downtown. Want to come?"

"Sure. Give me a minute."

"A minute, no more."

I ran out to the car. Mom was waiting in the passenger seat.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Downtown."

As I approached the main turn off for downtown, Mom stopped me.

"Go straight," she said. "Past Dad's work."

"Did he forget something?" I asked. Mom didn't answer.

I cruised past the entrance to Dad's work. Mom stopped me from turning in.

"Pull up over there," she instructed, waving at the road ahead that ran up the side of the parking lot.

I turned right, drove up a little ways and stopped. We both looked down at the empty parking lot. Empty, except for two cars, parked right next to each other. Dad's car and another.

As we watched, two people exited the building, the man locking it behind him as the younger woman waited. She turned as he approached, allowing him to slip his arm around his waist. They walked, arms around each other, to the car beside Dad's. Both got in the driver's door, the woman first. Then Dad drove the car away.

I sat in stunned silence. So this was it. This was what was bugging Mom. Last night, she must have wanted to confirm Dad's newfound passion for her, only to have that hope smashed all over the empty parking lot below. I looked in the mirror as the woman's car entered the intersection behind us and turned left, heading away.

"Take me away from here, Jason. Let's go for a drive."

Mom's face was grim, but she wasn't crying like I expected.

* * * * *

We drove in silence. I didn't know where to go so I headed somewhere quiet, ending up on the circle drive around Connaught Hill that overlooked our small town. There were very few cars, only two or three besides our own. The hill had once been the local lover's lane, long ago. Now people ventured further afield. Young families searched out the newer playground areas and others the local hiking venues. The only people here, it seemed, were older couples venturing down memory lane. I stopped to take in the view half way between the two cars already parked at each end.

Mom stared ahead, deep in thought, oblivious of the view spread below us. After some time, she said, "I used to come here a lot."

"It's a great view," I offered.

Mom laughed out loud. "I didn't come for the view." She was quite amused.

"Oh," I replied, confused.

"We only came at night. I don't know if I was ever here in the day. It's beautiful."

"You and Dad used to come here?" I cursed myself as soon as I said it. Good job keeping her mind off it.

"No." Mom's tone darkened. "Before him."

"Oh, with other guys?" I tried to fix my mistake.

"That's right. One or two...or three for four," her voice trailed off. "Mostly with Duke."

I don't think Mom was trying to imply she was loose as a teenager. I think she just meant that she wasn't desperate, that she was desired. I nodded. A police cruiser appeared, cruising slowly through the parking lot. Mom looked at it and then slid across the seat to sit next to me, lifting my arm and putting it around her shoulder.

"We should look like we belong or they'll think we're casing cars to steal from."

Mom turned her face toward me and kissed my cheek. "Give me a hug," she commanded.

I pulled her closer. She turned her face up and planted another kiss, this time on my lips, as the cop car passed behind us. Mom kept kissing me after they were gone, so I continued enjoying her lips. Her faulty logic incorporated a huge, unsubstantiated inferential leap but I wasn't about to argue given where it had taken us.

I was at a loss for words when Mom pulled back. Feeling awkward, I said, "Thanks, Mom."

"Duke used to call me Sandy," Mom whispered.

"But, your name is Sandra."

"I know. I was always Sandy up here."

Mom turned and looked wistfully through the windshield. I felt a deep sympathy for her right then and I hugged her to me. Mom must have thought I meant something else because she turned back toward me and lifted her face to mine. I kissed her, this time much longer. Though I didn't try to push my tongue into her mouth, and she didn't open her lips to offer, my mouth felt on fire when we stopped. Mom looked down, resting her cheek against my chest and stretching her harm around me.

"Whew, that reminded me a little of the old days."

"Really?" I asked.

I held Mom's head to my chest, wanting to get her as close as I could. She twisted toward me to ease the strain on her neck, lifting her right leg and resting it on top of my knee.

"Why were you 'Sandy' up here instead of Sandra?"

Mom turned her face up to look at me. She seemed about to say something, then suddenly stretched up and kissed me again. Her lips were demanding this time, working on mine. Her whole mouth seemed to be in play, but was still closed. When she pulled away, she was breathing harder. She was facing me almost square on and her knee had stretched across mine, nearly to my other leg, her skirt had pulled up to accommodate the wider spread of her legs.

"You don't want to know that about your bad mother," Mom husked.

"Yes, I do," I retorted. "Anyway, I was asking Sandy."

I pressed Mom's head against my chest again, this time massaging her scalp around her ears. Mom didn't answer. I turned her face toward me.

"What did you do, Sandy?"

I kissed Mom lightly on the lips.

"Tell me," I urged, planting several teasing, nipping kisses on her mouth, pulling her shoulders tighter, urging her to face me more directly.

Mom's knee slid right over on top of my other knee, her skirt riding to the top of her legs as it stretched to accommodate the spread of her legs. Her white panties were showing.

"I can't," Mom whispered. "Not in the daylight."

"Sure you can. A bad girl doesn't care if it's day or night."

Mom's hand suddenly snaked behind my neck and her mouth latched onto mine. Her lips were furious, munching, jawing, piercing mine open with her hot tongue. I braced myself against the seat and rode out her onslaught. She was aggressive, demanding, hotter than a firecracker. Could she ever kiss. My cock was hard and grew harder as I thought of her wide open legs and stretched panties hovering just inches from my groin.

Honk. Honk.

Mom pulled herself off and quickly twisted around to slump into the seat beside me. I looked behind the car. The police were there. The woman on the passenger side was smiling and waving, waving for us to move along. The cruiser backed up and waited. I started the car and backed out, then sheepishly drove ahead as the cruiser ushered us around the ring and down the hill. Mom tittered quietly beside me, actually tittered like a teenaged girl. She played with her skirt, keeping it high on her legs, tugging it to the sides rather than down.

By the time we got home, Mom had pulled her skirt down and moved completely to her own side of the car. She went directly into the house. She didn't wait for me.

What had just happened? I was blown away by Mom kissing me so openly. Yes, she had let me touch her before but with a pillow over her head. Did acting like her teenaged self, before she met Dad, make it ok? Could she really drop her inhibitions just because we both pretended she was Sandy?

Was Mom all right? I could see how she could be depressed, but mentally unstable? If so, could I really take advantage of her weakened mental state, just to get into her pants? Was I that desperate? Did I want her that much, even if it was possible? Was it any better to argue I was simply trying to support Mom's self esteem in face of Dad's affair? Really? By trying to fuck her?

I'm ashamed to say it, but the final question to myself was, how could I get Mom on Connaught Hill at night?

Dad was home for dinner on time. Mom was indifferent to him, neither pleased nor displeased. At the table, she discussed things with her normal enthusiasm or lack thereof, depending on the topic. She did, however, pointedly ask Dad if he had got lots done at work. She didn't dwell on his affirmative response and changed the subject quickly.

"What did you do this afternoon, Jason?" Mom smiled at me, the corner of her mouth turning up, lending her pleasant smile a smirkish aura.

"I...uh, I...ummm, not much. I went for a drive."

"Yeah? Where did you go?"

"Um. Just around. Up to Connaught Hill."

"Connaught Hill? Are the kids still going up there?" Dad asked.

"Not really. I was just driving around and went up to see the view."

Mom looked unconvinced. Mischievously, she persisted.

"With who?"

"Well, uh...by myself."

"Sure." Mom grinned at me and Dad did too. They were enjoying this, especially Mom.

"Really. I was by myself," I blustered, my face reddening.

"Then why are you blushing?" Mom pestered. She reached out and pushed my shoulder. "Come on, Jason. We won't bite. Tell us who she is?"

"Sandra. Leave the boy alone. He wants to keep it a secret," Dad laughed. "She must be pretty hot," he widened his eyes.

"I bet she is," Mom added, her eyes twinkling. "She doesn't sound like a Sandra."

"Nope, that's for sure. Not the marrying kind. Not a Connaught Hill girl." Dad laughed out loud.

"Hey," Mom objected, looking slighted.

"What would you know," Dad said. "You were never on Connaught Hill. Actually," he laughed, "the guys at the city used to call it Panty Hill because they always found a bunch there after every weekend."

That let me off the hook. Mom quit pushing and it died.

Mom helped me clean up the dishes while Dad watched the news, as usual. After that, Mom went upstairs but she came back down dressed in a stark white tennis outfit, a body-clinging dress with a very short skirt, considered discreet because the pants underneath were thick enough to be worn separately as shorts. Mom looked really hot.

Though it was odd that Mom changed after dinner, nobody mentioned it. I don't know that Dad even noticed. I did, that's for sure, but I wasn't about to say anything. Anyway, I think Mom knew that there was at least one man in the house who appreciated that she put a little effort into the way she looked. Nevertheless, it wasn't until Mom passed near me and I smelled her perfume that I noticed that she had put on some makeup, so judicially applied that it required close scrutiny to detect.

Dad noticed too, though only subconsciously.

"Were we supposed to be going out tonight?" he asked when Mom sat down at the end of the couch near his chair.

"Nope," Mom responded casually, getting into a comfortable position. "Feel free to get some work done if you need to catch up on anything."

I saw Dad glance at Mom, trying to see if she was goading him. His expression indicated satisfaction that Mom wasn't needling him and was honestly telling him it was all right to go to work if he wanted to.

"Well, I do have some stuff to get done, but I think it's a little late to get someone to help me now," Dad mused. "Unless you'd like to give me a hand." Dad looked at me.

"Tonight?" I asked, indicating with my voice that wasn't a viable option. "Anyway, Dad. I don't know my way around there anymore."

Mom was ignoring us. She had pulled her feet up to rest her book on her knees. I was looking past her to Dad but my eyes strayed to the lovely display of bare legs Mom was offering.

"True, but I could show enough if you wanted to help me out tomorrow," Dad pressed me.

"Yeah, but I was planning on going for a drive tomorrow."

"Is that more important than giving me a hand?"

Dad's old habits were surfacing. He didn't give a rat's ass about getting my help. In fact, probably the last thing he wanted was to have me hanging around cramping his style but he couldn't resist a moral lecture about his protestant work ethic.

"Richard," Mom broke in. "Leave him alone. Get one of your people to come in."

"Well, I could do that, but it would cost more," Dad pushed.

Mom's voice noticeably cooled. "Drop it, Richard. Jason wants to spend a little time with that girl he's been talking about, Sandy something or other."

"Aha. I knew there was a girl. Sandy, hey? Are you trying to get a girl like your mother?" Dad laughed, suddenly lightening up, having pushed his irksome point as far as it would go without incurring cost.

"No, I don't think she's like Mom," I put in.

"Like me?" Mom said. "Why would he want a girl that looked like his mother."

"He could do worse," Dad retorted.

"And he could do a lot better, a good-looking young man like him," Mom barked back.

"Are you saying I'm not good enough?" Dad asked playfully, but with an edge to his voice.

I broke in before this got out of hand. "Hey. Sandy actually looks a lot like Mom but...,"

"But what?" both my parents chimed.

"but...she's...not the marrying kind, I guess you'd say.

Mom and Dad both laughed out loud, draining the tension in the air.

"Then you'd better not bring her around here," Dad said.

"I don't think you'll see her here," I said.

"I don't know," Mom said. "I wouldn't mind seeing her, maybe when your prudish father isn't around." Mom's eyes twinkled at me over her knees.

Dad turned his attention to the TV and Mom poked her nose deeper into her book. Her feet, until now held demurely together, wormed back and forth, slowly working their way apart to provide a more stable stance to support her arched knees. I appreciated Mom's desire for stability, especially since it uncovered her little tennis shorts which were all puffed up from internal pressure.

Mom didn't dig her toe into my leg like before. She didn't even stretch her foot out to touch me. So there was no implicit invitation like the other night. No matter. I was content to slouch down in the couch so I could look at the back of Mom's thighs and her panty shorts unobserved. I paid particular attention to how prominent the front of Mom's shorts were relative to her legs. It was like someone had done a super botox job on the wrong set of lips.

I enjoyed the slowly building pressure in my groin as my thoughts about the day intermingled with the swollen view before me. Mom had suggested a drive with 'Sandy'. Was she setting something up for tomorrow? My cock throbbed at the thought. But then, other things she said suggested it would be better to save the drive for after dark. Would Mom slip into her 'Sandy' role again, or was that a one-time thing?


One thing I did know. I wasn't going to get Mom all worked up so my Dad could walk in and steal all my effort like he did last week. If Mom and I were going for a drive, I wanted her horny tomorrow, not tonight. With tremendous effort, I kept my hand away from Mom's legs. I could tell she knew the effect her display was having on me. I could also sense her confusion about why I wasn't going for the bait, because she began to rock her crotch. Just the littlest bit, but those puffy shorts visibly twisted forward in tiny, fuck me thrusts. She looked so hot, I wanted to lean over and take those shorts into my mouth. Fuck!

My resolve dissolved. I stretched my hand out between Mom's parted feet, careful not to touch her legs. Resting my hand on the couch just below her shorts, I casually twisted it open so the backs of my fingers brushed up against the puffiest part of those pulsing shorts.

Mom flinched. I gazed steadily at the TV. Mom twisted her head around to look at Dad and then swung quickly back. I rubbed my knuckles against her mound. I noticed that Mom's knees were pressed harder together but her feet were in the same wide stance. I shifted my hand so that the knuckle of my longest finger nestled into the faint groove I could feel running vertically under Mom's shorts. As soon as it notched in, I wiggled it, pressing more firmly and felt thrilled when it received an answering push, a long one that sought to maintain contact.

I rubbed and rubbed. Why am I doing this? Why can't I stop? I knew Mom would soon go to bed, horny, and my father would get fucked while I sat in my room, listening and pulling my wire. It wasn't fair.

Sure enough, within minutes, Mom's book and her feet snapped shut, knocking my hand away. She swiveled her feet off the couch and stood.

"I think I'll go up. I'm tired," she said to Dad, leaning over to give him a quick peck goodnight. She didn't dally. She turned immediately and walked briskly upstairs.

At some point, Dad had stopped watching TV and started reading one of the pocket books he kept on the table between his chair and the couch. I sat up and scooted down to take over Mom's seat, picking up the remote from the table. I began searching the channels. There. Charlie Rose was just starting. I switched to that channel.

Dad looked up from his book when he heard Charlie's voice. That's it, I thought. Take the bait. Come on, bite.

Dad's book slowly lowered, falling with his hands into his lap. Bingo! He was hooked. I watched for a few minutes to make sure Dad was interested, that it wasn't an episode he'd seen before. Fantastic. It was an hour long interview with some DC politico. Dad didn't even notice me get up, didn't hear me say goodnight, or see me walk in front of him and up the stairs.

The white tennis dress was tossed on Mom's chair, and the shorts. She was lying face down on the bed again, her head on the pillow, looking back toward the door. A sheet covered her which, given the opportunity to invoke the Pathfinder, would make it more difficult to flip her nightie up to do his work. A small challenge, nothing more. The light from the hallway was blocked when I entered Mom's room, casting her face in shadow until I stepped aside and leaned against the wall.

Without a word or any other accepting expression, Mom lifted the pillow and slid underneath, pulling it down over her head. Her hips rose as she adjusted her position, making it obvious that her legs were open about a foot as the sheet draped over her limbs. I sauntered to the side of the bed accompanied by Charlie Rose's questioning voice. I sat down, but not before I slipped my hand under the sheet and moved it over to Mom's leg so I didn't sit on it.

I sat in silence to let hear me breathe so she would know the effect she was had on me. As I watched her covered back, I could see her breathing pattern begin to match my own. I reached over with my left hand and gently tugged the sheet down Mom's back until it was gathered across her waist beneath the rising swell of her buttocks. Mom's breathing ramped up, as did mine. Hers likely in anticipation of me dragging the sheet further down to uncover her ass; mine because I realized Mom dad gone to bed naked, and waited for me to come.

Instead of pulling the sheet down, I slid my hand up Mom's back to grasp a handful of her hair and twisted it around until it was knotted in my fist. I didn't think I would need to hold Mom down but I wanted her to feel controlled before I made my next move.

I slid my other hand up from the bed, along the outside of Mom's thigh to her knee, then up and over to the inside of her leg. I began my slow ascent up the thickening shaft of her soft-skinned limb, my fingers twiddling as my hand progressed closer and closer to her uncovered, open pussy. Though I moved very slowly, I never paused or retreated. I wanted her to know that the Pathfinder was coming, inevitably, inexorably. Nothing could stop him.

There was no other foreplay. No whispering, no teasing approach and withdrawal. Just a steady, plodding advance. My fingers were there, stretching out, the first feathery touch, the first time her son's fingers had ever graced her nether lips. I parted her lips and felt the wetness of her slit. Only then did I pause, brushing my fingers side to side, flipping her lips under my twiddling tips. She was very wet already. She got wetter.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, unnnngggghhhh," Mom moaned into the mattress under the pillow.

Her hips rose, as if to pull away, but my hand gripped her hair tighter and pushed her back into the mattress.

"Shhhhhh, Sandy," I whispered. "Your father's downstairs watching TV."

Mom's body went rigid but almost immediately relaxed. I pushed my hand forward, inserting two fingers into her soaked pussy. There was no need for foreplay. She was ready for it, had probably been ready from the moment she walked up the stairs. I immediately began finger fucking her, her wet pussy squishing and squelching as my fingers moved in and out. I was intent on making her come. I was not going to leave her super ready for my father's arrival. No. He could have Charlie Rose instead.

Mom lifted her hips and I allowed it, realizing she was trying to make it easier for my fingers to get into her. I slipped a third finger inside and started rubbing my thumb up into the crack of her ass. I slowed my in and out, pausing on the inward thrust to rub the flat of my thumb over Mom's anus. I loved the way she moaned as I did that. Did Dad do her this way? Somehow, I doubted that, and doubted she would let him, especially now.

After a few minutes of this slow grind and rub, I pulled my fingers out and cupped Mom's pussy in my palm, long finger stretching through the length of her slit to rest on the little hoodie above. I wriggled that fingertip as I leaned over Mom's back, bringing my face close to the pillow covering her head.

"Open your legs more."

Maybe Mom couldn't hear me over her moans generated in response to my wriggling fingertip. Anyway, she didn't comply with my request. I stilled my finger and repeated my demand.

"Open wider."

No response.

"Come on" I urged, wriggling my fingertip faster for encouragement, a promise of reward.

Nothing.

"Spread for me, Sandy," I whispered in an especially hoarse voice, one not under my control.

Mom's legs spread wide. I pulled my hand back, slowly dragging my fingers over her mound and through her slit, then inserted all of my fingers in her pussy. I pushed forward, a little bit at a time, until my fingers were completely buried and only my palm was visible as I twisted slowly left and right, opening and closing her hole, widening it for my next assault. Twist, twist, twist.

At first, Mom seemed to only tolerate my stretching attack but that changed abruptly with a sudden flood of slippery juice, allowing my hand to twist easily in her now sloppy pussy. Mom had acclimatized to the thickness of my hand and her willing acceptance was signaled by a change from murmurs and moans to guttural groans under the pillow. Mom's ass rose rhythmically against my spinning hand, forcing me deeper into her stretched pussy.

I swept the sheet off Mom's ass. I had to see this. In the dim light from the hallway, I could see my wrist exiting from Mom's widely stretched pussy, my hand was almost fully ensconced inside it. Holding her hair, I began fucking Mom's cunt with my hand. I was gentle, ready to stop at the first sign of pain, but Mom didn't give any sign of any. Grunting, yes. Lots of moans, groans, and grunts, but none that signaled pain. In fact, Mom kept shoving her hips and ass up, trying to get more.

Every once in a while, Mom's ass would scoot ahead, as if trying to get away, shudder violently on my hand, then shove back hard. She was loving this and I somehow knew that it was a completely new experience for her, not just something Dad didn't do, but anyone 'Sandy' had known before. Mom's hands had sipped off the pillow and dug into the mattress for extra leverage to shove her cunt onto my thrusting hand. She gave 'dig' a whole new meaning. Her ass and pussy were quivering constantly now, as if she was in the middle of a constant, huge orgasm.

With a long groan, Mom finally collapsed on the bed, legs shaking around my wrist. When she was relatively still, I pulled my hand out with a loud, wet, sucking squelch. Mom's ass vibrated for several seconds and she released a long, forlorn, post-partem moan. A few after shocks and Mom was quiet. I pulled my hands away and covered Mom with the sheet. When I stood to leave, I felt the stickiness in my shorts. They were full of cum. I hadn't even felt it.

I passed through the door to hear Charlie telling his audience about his next guest. Had I really been working on Mom for almost an hour?

* * * * *

I had a quick shower and exited the bathroom. The house was in darkness. I padded quietly down the hall to my room. From the direction of my parent's room I heard low voices.

"Come on, Sandra."

"No."

Rustling sheets.

"I said no."

More rustling.

"I said I'm tired. Now go to sleep."

"All right then. See what happens next time you want it." My father was angry. I was pleased, especially since he was acting childishly. Fuck you, asshole. You can't compete with what I just gave her. Smiling, I pushed my door open and shut it firmly behind me. I didn't need to hear anymore.

Dad wasn't in a good mood the next morning. He finished his breakfast early and went out to sit on his lounge alone, even forgetting to take his coffee. Mom took his coffee out to him a few minutes later and set it on the table between their lounges. He didn't say thanks or otherwise acknowledge her kindness. I brought the morning paper out and handed it to Mom. She passed the front section to Dad, who took it without a word. I sat down on the mat beside Mom. A moment later, I lay back and folded my arms behind my head. I didn't close my eyes.

Mom dropped the paper in her lap and laid her head back against the cushion, facing my direction. Her eyes were closed. Casually, her hand dropped to the edge of the lounge and, a few seconds later, fell over the side, onto my shorts.

I had placed myself perfectly, my balls softening the landing for Mom's hand. She smiled but kept her eyes closed. Her hand stayed still, despite an urging lift from my impatient shorts, which only brought a wider smile but not extra pressure, let alone movement. Oh well, her soft touch alone was exquisite.

Many minutes later, Mom's fingers moved. Not much, just a little swirl. My cock throbbed under her soft caress, begging for more, and was rewarded when Mom's fingers moved again, then again, and again. Soon, Mom was tracing a complex path around and around on my bulging shorts, undeterred by the periodic thrusts of my hips.

Every few minutes I was rattled by the shake of newspaper as Dad changed pages. This served only to heighten my excitement with spikes of fear. When he changed to a new section, I knew he would be distracted for some time so I threw caution to the wind.

When Mom raised her hand, as she did for a moment every few minutes, I quickly pushed my shorts down over my hips. This was stupidly dangerous but I felt compelled to transgress the boundary I had so recently achieved. Mom's hand dropped.

Shock! Her eyes fluttered open, then quickly squeezed shut. Her hand pulled away and hovered in the air, then, after a smile graced Mom's face, slowly fell until her soft skin thrilled me again. The first time on my bare cock!

That's it. It might not be bigger, or even as big, but my son cock will feel much larger in your hand. Feel its energy. Imagine it in your sweet mouth or in your slippery pussy.

Mom's fingers fluttered over my cock. It stiffened even more rapidly as it lifted from my stomach and Mom's fingertips swirled over its head, then formed a circle and lightly grasped my shaft, then pushed down the length of my hardening cock. Wonderful. I had read on a true incest site that once a mother held her son's cock, she couldn't resist it. It had to be true, it just had to be.

Mom jacked me slowly, sliding her ring of fingers up and down my shaft. It was amazing what she would do with her eyes closed.

How did she rationalize this blatant behavior without a pillow over her head? Did she justify it as revenge, jacking off another man as she lay beside her cheating husband? Or was she now, in this moment, Sandy? I didn't know what was going through my mother's convoluted mind and I didn't care. I was lying beside her getting my cock lovingly handled while my father, the bastard who had stolen my poontang the week before, read a newspaper. Fuck you, I thought. I'm going to come right here with you three feet away.

My head lifted from the mat as I convulsed in sudden pain. Mom was squeezing my cock hard. Oww! My sperm ran and hid, sucking back into its cave. Jeez! Mom released my abused cock and returned to her lap. I waited, but it didn't return and I'm not so sure that was a bad thing. As surreptitiously as I could, I pulled my shorts up to cover my shriveling member, once so proud and strong, and slunk away to the house.

I Find Sandra

An hour later, Mom knocked on my door.

"Hey, what are you up to?" she asked.

"Not much," I said, not turning away from the computer. "Just playing a game."

"You must have something better to do than that on such a beautiful Sunday afternoon."

I shrugged. "Nope."

"I thought you were going out for drive?"

"Nope."

"I'll go with you if that girl isn't going," Mom offered. "That is, if you don't mind riding around with your old Mom."

I turned to look at Mom. Had she forgotten it was her who suggested I was going for a drive with 'Sandy'? That thought left my mind when I saw Mom. She was leaning halfway in my room, hanging onto the doorjamb, wearing a fashionable summery print dress that with a loose skirt that fell from her hips in a way that hinted strongly at the fine shape of her legs. An open bodice showcased the tops of her heat swollen breasts and a zipper down the front kept the dress legal. Mom's eyes twinkled with secret mirth.

"I made us a picnic," Mom sweetened the pot.

"That's the ticket," I cried, rolling my chair back and leaping to my feet.

"Always the stomach," Mom laughed. "Men," she said with disgust.

I followed Mom downstairs. There was a large picnic basket waiting in the hallway by the front door.

Mom opened the door. "Bring the basket," she said.

Mom drove. She headed straight toward Dad's work and parked at the same vantage point we had used before. Sure enough, the same two cars were there. Mom waited for several minutes, her face growing grimmer and grimmer, before she finally threw the car into drive and peeled out.

I was disappointed when Mom steered the car past Connaught Hill. I turned and looked back with a forlorn glance as it fell behind us.

"Where are we going Mom?"

"You'll see".

As we drove, I glanced more often at Mom. Eventually, I ignored the passing countryside in favor of Mom's figure, the slender thighs under the summer skirt and sculptured calves operating the pedals. I even loved the sexiness of her bare arms with the ultra-fine tiny blond hairs waving in the breeze blowing over her forearms through the open window.

"Is it far?"

"Don't worry. It'll be worth it, trust me. It's a beautiful spot."

"A secret place?"

"Yes."

"Did you go there with Duke?"

"That's a probing question to ask your mother."

"I was asking Sandy."

There was a subtle change in Mom's demeanor, something about her posture indicated that a transformation had been initiated. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what was different but there was a palpable change in the air.

I slipped my sandals off and unhooked my seatbelt. That alone would have brought a sharp rebuke from Mom but none came. I twisted my back to the door and swung my feet onto the seat, bringing them to rest against Mom's hip and thigh. I watched Mom intently as she drove, trying to figure out what is was about her that made me so certain a metamorphosis was underway. I saw nothing.

Mom was aware of my scrutiny but said nothing to dissuade it. I shifted my right foot along Mom's right thigh and pressed against it.

"So answer the question."

"What question?"

"Did you go there with your Duke?"

I slid my foot back toward Mom's hip, dragging her skirt with it.

"Yes," Mom replied.

"Dad too?"

I winced as I said that, thinking it was a mistake to mention my father.

"Just once, when you were born."

When I was born? She was taking me to the place I was conceived?

I quickly changed the subject back to Duke.

"What was this Duke like?"

"Oh, he was tall and muscular but that wasn't what attracted all the girls to him. It was more the way he had about him."

"What way?"

"He had a easy way about him. He wasn't controlling but somehow you always ended up doing what he wanted to do." Mom paused. "You remind me of him, actually."

That was music to my ears. Mom seemed to have a thing for this guy from her past so the similarity couldn't hurt me.

"Did he tell you about this secret place?

"No. It was my idea. My father had taken to cruising through Connaught Hill to see if we were there. He didn't like the Duke. Told me to stay way from him."

"The Duke?"

Mom laughed. "That's what the kids called him. The Duke."

"Like John Wayne?"

"He was no John Wayne."

I had been playing with Mom's skirt with my foot during this exchange and had pushed it back as far as I could, then used my other foot to drag it further onto Mom's hip. Mom looked down at her pushed-up skirt, and shook her head.

"Men. One track mind."

Mom dropped a hand from the wheel and pulled the hem of her skirt way up, exposing the panties that had only been peeking out.

"There, is that what you wanted to see?"

Yes, I thought, but I barely nodded. When she looked back at the road, my neck craned so I could see as much as possible.

"Sit closer, then," Mom said, before you break your neck.

My face flushed at getting caught being so obvious but I responded immediately to the invitation. Shifting into the middle of the seat, I was happy to see that Mom's hand still held her skirt up, exposing the entire front of her panties.

"Hold this," Mom shook the hand holding her skirt, "while I drive."

I took the skirt. Mom's panties were plain white but they were made of a very thin fabric that outlined her pussy in pleasing detail. When I sighted the notch running down the middle, my guy instantly sprang into life.

"You better get an eyeful, because we're almost there."

This had to be Sandy talking now. Was adopting the Sandy persona Mom's way of closing her eyes in broad daylight?


Mom dropped her hand from the wheel again, this time grasping the zipper on the front of her dress. She tugged it down a couple of inches, loosening the dress sufficiently that her breasts sagged down her chest instead of sticking almost straight out. The effect was marvelous, opening and separating her tits, making them appear far sexier. I wanted to grab them right away.

"Here we are." Mom turned off the country road onto a farming road that twisted away in the distance over low, rolling hills. She sped up and we bumped our way down the road, Mom laughing as we crested hills and sunk like a roller coaster down the far sides. I was less interested in the countryside, preferring to watch Mom's loosened tits tumble around on her chest. My hand was unable to keep her skirt bunched up by her waist. It dropped to the seat with my hand as I tried to brace myself to resist the jolting ride, providing me with an excuse to rub that skirt up and down the front of Mom's panties as we bounced along.

After suffering several miles of this, Mom pulled off onto the tall, rough grass and drove about 100 feet off the road. She jolted to a stop just as I realized we were nearing the edge of a small bluff overlooking the fields below and the highway we had exited far away in the distance. The car lurched to a stop as Mom braked hard stopping must before the edge of the bluff. She threw the car into park and shut the engine off. Silence descended on us. Mom gazed out the windshield and I looked down at my hand firmly cupping Mom's panties.

Mom followed my gaze down. Looking at my hand, she said, "You've been a very naughty boy lately, Jason."

This didn't sound like Sandy talking. I nodded and kept very still, not knowing what to expect.

I was thrilled when I felt Mom's panties press onto my hand and squeezed it in acknowledgement.

"Did you think if you came out here today, you'd be able to nail 'Sandy'?"

Mom twisted her hips, bumping her panties harder against my hand to emphasize her query.

Caught flat-footed, I was tongue-tied. Why do guys think we're so clever when we're really quite clumsy? We should leave the subtlety game to women.

"Ahhh Mom," Mom nodded knowingly. "You were hoping for Sandy but ended up with Sandra?"

Mom laughed and I was relieved that she didn't seem angry.

"Don't look so shocked. At least you're smarter than your father. Like most men, he thinks a woman is one or the other: a Sandy or a Sandra. With all his years he still doesn't know that every woman has some of both inside, even if they don't show it. They're just not there at the same time."

Mom bumped me with her panties again.

"Don't have to look so scared. I'm not going to take your little toy away from you, if that's what you're worried about."

Mom pushed her panties up and rubbed them in my hand.

"See. You can still play. You're just not going to get what were hoping for, what you thought you were going to get on the hill. So just take your time and be happy with what you do get. You're not going to have it all."

Mom bumped her panties against my hand several times.

"Go ahead," she whispered, putting her hand on my cheek, then curling it around behind my neck "play with it if you want."

I moved slightly, rubbing Mom's mound.

"That's it," Mom cried, sucking in her breath. "I like it when you play," she whispered.

As my hand rubbed, Mom pulled my head toward hers. She covered my lips with hers and sucked my face. When we broke for air, my hand was frigging her more rapidly.

"Take your time," Mom said. "We have all afternoon and you're not getting much more than this."

I slowed my hand down.

"That's it. I like it when you go slow, and push way in."

I was surprised by Mom's second acknowledgement of my naughty activities at home. She was panting. Not as much as I was, but she was still quite excited. Maybe there was a chance she would get carried away, despite what she said.

"What kind of sandwich do you want?"

"What?" I cried.

"Do you want tomato with ham, or tuna with pickles?

My hand stopped. I was stunned. How could she..."

"I'm kidding," Mom said, laughing out loud. "Christ, the look on your face." She laughed hysterically.

Obviously, it was going to take a superhuman effort to get Mom carried away. I started working her panties while she laughed, manipulating her puss with independent action from each finger rather than just rubbing her with my hand. Mom's laughter faded away and was replaced by heavy breathing. Her hand pulled my neck closer but I skinned past her mouth to bury my face in her neck, latching on with my mouth.

"Don't give me a hickey," she cautioned.

I ignored her and sucked on her throat. My fingers had pushed her panties into her slit and were stroking her pubes on each side. I dug my Pathfinder inside, hooked the panties and pulled them out and to the side, baring her pussy. The Pathfinder plunged inside.

Mom gasped loudly.

"You can call me Sandy if it helps you," she whispered.

"I want Sandra," I spoke harshly, bending Mom's head back, sucking up the bottom of her chin until my mouth covered hers.

I pulled my fingers out of Mom's pussy, gathered them together into a unit, then pushed them inside her as I shoved my tongue into her mouth. Mom's legs spread as wide as she could get them in the confines of the car. If she wants me to play, I'll see how far I can go.

I lined my thumb up on top of Mom's clit and worked the rest of my fingers in and out of Mom's pussy, making it wetter and wetter. There was no need to worry about anyone hearing the loud sucking sounds, not out here. Mom may have had her pussy fingered a lot in her younger days, but nothing like this. She really liked it. She writhed around on the seat, twisting and arching her back, gasping for air one minute, sighing the next, moaning in between. Her hips were active, thrusting onto my hand as I twisted and worked it slowly in and out of her soaking hole.

Oh yeah. There was no question she loved this. She was right carried away. But I was certain if I tried to replace my hand with my cock, she would shut me down hard. No. It would take a long, sustained effort to get inside this hot cunt, but I was resolved to do it.

I was lifting Mom now, holding her up with my left arm around her waist and jigging her with all the fingers of my other hand. She was groaning very loudly. She was near, very near.

I whispered in her ear.

"Sandra, you're so fucking hot. Come on me. Come on my hand."

Those simple words triggered Mom's orgasm. She began thrashing wildly on my hand, moaning so loud she was almost yelling. I had never heard such sounds emanate from my parents' bedroom, and that made me feel strong.

When she finished flooding my wrist and I had pulled my soaked hand away, Mom asked me the question.

"So, ham or tuna?"

We both busted out laughing and were hardly able to stand as we stumbled to the trunk to get the picnic stuff. I managed to spread a blanket on the grass while Mom unloaded the basket, unwrapped the sandwiches, and handed me a single bottle of wine to open.

After Mom finished the first half of her sandwich, she took a long pull of wine and looked at me seriously.

"You're smarter than your Dad. He came here with Sandy and left with Sandra. He never looked in me for Sandy again."

Mom gazed off into the field below.

"Then he's a fool," I said.

She turned back to me.

"You do see things differently. Why do you want Sandra instead of Sandy?"

"Well, if you have something that's already warm, it doesn't get much hotter."

I nodded sagely, munching my tuna sandwich and crunching into a pickle. Mom looked at the field again.

"They all thought Sandy was so hot, she wanted to please so much. But it was Sandra who so desperately needed to be pleased, and would have given the man who did it the ride of his life."

Mom turned her eyes on mine again.

"Is that what you're hoping for?"

I nodded frankly, meeting Mom's gaze.

"You know I can't let you have it."

"You have to say no. I have to try."

Now I took a long sip of wine.

Mom smiled. "Just because a woman says no doesn't mean she doesn't want a man to try."

Mom finished her wine and wrapped up the other half of her sandwich, putting it and the empty glass back in the basket. She waited for me to finish. I had just started the second half of my sandwich.

"Unzip your dress," I said.

"Why?"

"I'm not finished eating and want to look at you." It was my turn to be strange.

"I'm not going to take my dress off."

I shrugged.

Mom unzipped her dress. Not slowly. She didn't tease. She just pulled it down to her waist and then leaned back on her hand, regarding me with a smile. Although her cleavage was exposed, her breasts were still confined by the opened dress.

"Push it off your shoulders."

Mom straightened up, looked down, and pushed the dress off her left shoulder. She looked back at me and held my eyes as she pushed it off the other shoulder, shrugging to hurry it off her tits.

They were gorgeous. The full, proud tits of a woman in her prime. Substantial, but not too large. Sagging a little, but far from droopy. Very sexy.

"Show me."

Mom arched her back and twisted her torso, lifting and thrusting her nipples into the warm breeze. I drained my glass and started to put my sandwich down.

"No."

I stopped, my eyes questioning. After what we'd already done, I couldn't touch her tits?

"If you don't finish your dinner, you can't have your pudding." Mom laughed, arched her back and pushed her hair up the sides of her head, onto the top, then let it fall messily to her shoulders. She kept her back arched and tits thrust far out.

"Is this what you want?"

I nodded vigorously, gulping my sandwich down. I reached for her glorious globes. Mom pushed them into my hands, shoving her hard nipples into my palms. After a few squeezes and nipple rolls, I eagerly lowered my head, searching for those thick nubs, my tongue already reaching. Mom's hands grabbed my head, holding me away.

"Do you really think I want tuna all over them?"

"What?" I asked groggily.

"Have some more wine," Mom said, reaching for the bottle.

I grabbed my glass and Mom poured it half full. Quickly, I filled my mouth, then gargled it and spat it into the grass. I dove for her tits.

"Good god," Mom laughed. "All right, all right. Have at it."

She put her hands behind my head and pulled it to her as I noisily devoured her luscious tits, sucking her hardening nipples deep into my mouth. I pushed her onto her back and gave her tits the sucking of their life. Eventually, I managed to get on top of her and, squeezing a tit hard in each hand, ground my short-covered cock on her skirt-covered pussy.

I wouldn't break the rules, but I was determined to make her come again, in a way that was everything but fucking. Mom welcomed my bulge on her mound, spreading her legs and rubbing against me like she really needed it. But it proved to be me that needed it more. I came quickly, overwhelmed by the feel of her below me, her arms and legs wrapped around me, like we were really doing it. I exploded in my pants as I frantically humped her.

All I could think about as the throes of my passion subsided was that I hoped I hadn't hurt her tits. They were all swollen and showed red finger marks where I had gripped them so hard, squirting my seed as close to Mom as I could get. I turned onto my back on the blanket, trying to recover my breath.

"Did you bring another pair of shorts?" Mom asked.

"No," I shook my head.

"Oh my. That will be a messy ride home, won't it."

"Very funny Mother."

"Oh. It's not Sandy, or Sandra anymore."

"Mom," I complained, not in the mood to be teased.

"Well, it's a good thing it was your mother you were humping away on. Who else would think ahead to bring a clean set of clothes."

Mom got up and went to the trunk, returning with a clean pair of shorts and underwear. WTF.

"Come on. Take those dirty things off."

I pushed my shorts and underwear down and kicked them off. I was startled, to say the least, when Mom poured half a water bottle on me and started cleaning me with a wash cloth. Thank god it was warm from lying out in the sun. When she was finished, I reached for my underwear but Mom stopped me.

"Let it get some Vitamin D."

So there I lay, t-shirt on but cock bare to the sun and wind, with my mother watching. Of course, I got another erection under her watchful gaze.

"Wonderful," Mom said, admiring my pole standing perfectly perpendicular to my stomach. "So strong and proud. It's a good thing I brought lots of water."

Mom picked up a small bottle from the picnic basket and applied a liquid to her hands, then rubbed them together. I assumed it was the bacterial soap she was so insistent upon using whenever we were on a picnic or short hike.

Suddenly, she reached out and grasped my tool in her soft hand and started jacking me off. Slow, then hard, then slow again. She worked her hands around my cock, tickling my balls, and teasing the tip mercilessly. She had wiped some kind of oil on her hands, not bacterial soap. Her hands were so wonderfully soft, yet supple and slippery. My own hands were nothing in comparison to hers. I won't go on about how she masturbated me in that field. It went on for a long time and, though she brought her face teasingly close several times to blow her hot breath on me, she never let it touch her mouth. When I came, I shot ropes of cum several feet in the air, most of which fell back on me.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Mom reprimanded me. "Do you think I don't have anything else to do?" she asked as she cleaned me up a second time. "Get dressed," she said when she was finished. "We have to go soon."

Mom had turned onto her stomach by the time I finished dressing. I sat beside her and slid my hand up her thighs and dipped between her legs to rub the back of her pussy. She shook her hips.

"No, baby. Just lie beside me for a while."

I snuggled close to her and rested my hands on my folded arms, as she was doing.

"So," Mom said. "Quite a day, huh?"

I nodded, a big grin breaking out on my face. Mom matched me.

"I guess we have to go back and face that cheating husband of mine."

I nodded.

"I guess we showed him a thing or two about cheating, didn't we?"

"Yup," I agreed.

"He knows as much about cheating as he does about women, and fucking," Mom added. "Oops, I shouldn't say things like that in front of you. It's not fair."

"You mean about fucking?"

"Yes."

"I don't mind."

"But you can't have it. It was cruel of me. I didn't mean it, baby."

"That's ok. I want to talk about fucking with you."

"It won't work mister. Getting me to think about it," Mom caught and corrected herself, "talk about it, won't get you any closer to it."

"We'll see," I smiled.

"Brat," Mom smiled back.

"It would be the best you ever had. That's a promise."

"Ooohhhh, now who's the big man?" Mom teased.

I didn't bite. "I mean it. No one could try as hard me to awaken all the women inside you."

Mom looked at me seriously. "I believe you, but it just can't happen, Jason."

"It doesn't hurt to think about it."

"No."

"Just think about it."

"No," Mom repeated firmly, but quietly.

I left it at that. We spent an hour lying next to each other in that field, heads on folded arms, facing one another. Sometimes we both had closed eyes, more often just one of us, but most of all, we gazed quietly into each other's eyes.

Finding Mom

Though the nature of our relationship was still covert, I no longer needed to fear rebuke and rejection from Mom. In some ways, I missed the adventure in being unsure of Mom's reaction. The intense anxiety accompanying those first incestuous caresses that societal taboos were designed to activate, failed to prevent their targeted behaviors. It was those fearful forays that partly produced the extreme elation of success, of actually doing it and getting away with it.

On the other hand, I wouldn't trade for anything my new freedom of access to Mom's enchanting body. That is, when Dad wasn't around, or at least, wasn't guaranteed to catch us. Sometimes I wondered if Mom really wanted to get caught because of the chances she let me take. One time I actually fingered her, not just rubbed her panties mind you, but actually fingered her while she read a book on the couch with Dad sitting in his chair behind her. Stroking my cock as I lay beside her patio lounge, with Dad reclining next to her, became a regular weekend occurrence.

Many evenings, Mom told Dad that one of his favorite shows was on, or brought home DVDs of movies she knew he loved, then yawned and retired early. I always went to bed early too, or at least up to my room to study or play a video game. Dad never seemed to notice, or at least he didn't mention our mutual absence.

One Saturday, I was kissing Mom in the kitchen while Dad was having a siesta on his lounge by the pool. I had Mom turned with her back to the sink so I could keep an eye on Dad through the kitchen window. I had managed to slip my hand inside her blouse and loosened her bra. Mom's hard nipple was aggressively trying to poke a hole through my hand and my thigh was working in her crotch. She was excited so I knew she would find a way for us to be alone that night so I could finger her pussy and suck her tits, our regular agenda. I always came during these sessions, even though I had usually come in the afternoon from Mom's delicate manipulation of my cock, so Mom never had to do anything more for me.

I wanted more now. The summer was nearing an end and I couldn't bear the thought of being so far away from the woman I loved, especially since I hadn't managed to dissuade Mom of her conviction that intercourse was out of the question for us.

Dangerously, I engaged Mom in a long kiss. Dangerous because I couldn't observe Dad while I was kissing her like that. I became too involved when we kissed, the rest of the world faded when my mouth was on hers. When the kiss ended, I knew I couldn't wait until tonight. I wanted her now, and I needed more.

"Do you suck him?" I asked, pulling hard on Mom's tits, one in each hand.

"Don't talk about him." Mom pushed against my thigh, opening her legs so her pussy could ride along the ridge of my femur.

"Come on Sandra, tell me." Despite what she said that day in the country, Mom loved it when I called her Sandra. I often whispered her name to initiate our sexual interplay and again in the end while she was coming.

"Why? What does it matter?"

"It matters." I lifted my knee, almost pushing Mom off the floor. She wobbled as she tried to maintain her balance, pushing from one tippy-toe to the other as her crotch rocked over my thigh.

"Not since you were born. He never asked after that. Because I was a mother, I guess. I never liked the taste of him anyway," Mom whispered, then added for my benefit. "I couldn't bear to have him in my mouth now."

"What about me?"

"What about you?" Mom gasped as I pulled her nipples, lifting her tits up high.

"Do you like the way I taste?"

"I don't know, I never...Oh, I see. Is that what you want? You want something I won't give to him, don't you?"

I tweaked her nipples in reply.

"What if I don't like it?" Mom looked up at me. "Don't say anything. I can see it in your face.

I worked my knee around under Mom's crotch, taking care to tug her nipples out the way she loved so much. Mom rocked her hips, rubbing her pussy in a hard fucking motion on my thigh.

"Ohhhh, baby. You've really got me going." Mom turned around for a quick glance at the patio. "I'll get rid of him. You hide, and I'll send him to the store or something."


"How about a little taste test first?"

"Wait 'till I get rid of your father."

"No Sandra. I want him to be there." I knew Mom liked Dad to be near. I think she got off on it, rubbing his face in it. Payback for cheating on her.

I straightened my leg and Mom slid down. My hands slid over her tits and onto her shoulders, then exerted downward pressure. Mom fell to her knees, feigning reluctance. Who knows, maybe she really didn't want to do it. I didn't care. The thought of getting into her mouth was overwhelming.

Mom was kneeling in front of me but she didn't touch my cock or make a move pull my shorts down. I pushed them down myself, allowing my cock to spring out. I was so close to Mom it banged against her face. She let it bump against her but didn't grab it or try to take it into her mouth. I twisted my hips, flopping my rod over her nose and back several times, from one cheek to the other. I grasped my cock in my right hand, put my left on top of Mom's head, lined my tip up with her lips, pried her head back, and pushed inside.

"Ahhhhh," I moaned. The warm slick feel of her mouth was heaven. Quickly, I shoved in and out a few short strokes, hardening with each one. "Yeah," I cried.

Mom pushed me off. "Yuucckk," she said.

I tried to push my cock back in but she turned her head and I slid along her cheek on each thrust.

"Come on, Sandra," I gasped.

"It tastes awful," she cried.

"So what?" I gasped, holding her head more firmly, trying and succeeding to shove it back in her mouth.

A dozen slurpy thrusts later, Mom managed to push me off again.

"How can you? I don't like it."

In answer, I tightened my grip on her head, grasping a handful of hair. Now she couldn't move. I lined my engorged cock up, set it inside her lower lip, and slid it in. I let go of my cock and grasped Mom's face, my fingers reaching under her jawbone to get a good grip. I started fucking her face.

"Fuck, yeah," I gasped.

Mom didn't try to push me off again. It probably would have been no use anyway, but she didn't try. She did make it clear, each time I pulled out to let her get more air, that she didn't particularly like it, but that only made me want to shove it back into her drooling yob all the more.

I don't know why I was being so aggressive. I had never been like that before, but I needed it so bad, and I found it strangely exciting to make her submit to something she didn't really want to do. I had a feeling that it was a bit of a put on, that Mom knew this would really get me going, but I couldn't be sure. If that was true, she was a great actress.

The kitchen was filled with wet sucking sounds, like a plunger jamming noisily in a toilet boil. I looked up, realizing I hadn't been watching Dad. It looked like he was still sleeping in the lounge. I looked down at my cock sliding in and out of Mom's face. Fucking A, man. I was holding her with a hand on each side of her head now, but as a guide only. There was no need to hold her in place because she hadn't once tried to pull away. The floor between my feet was slippery with Mom's drool. I was so close, so fucking close. I bent my knees and started pumping harder. It was coming. Fuck, here it comes. Oh, man. So good. Fuck. I held Mom's head, held my cock in deep.

"Yeaahhhhh, ahhhhhh, ohhhhhh, yeahhhhhh."

I looked down as I slipped out of Mom's mouth and twisted her face up toward me. I was surprised to see my cum all over the outside of her mouth. I had held my cock in so deep, how did that happen? Mom was still swallowing. She tried to speak but just gurgled. She swallowed again.

"You owe me big time, buddy."

I nodded. Whatever the price, it was worth it. I expected she wanted me to go down on her. I didn't mind. I'd eat her ten times as long if she let me do this again.

"Tonight," Mom said, standing.

She suddenly grabbed me and gave me a hard kiss, thrusting her tongue deep into my mouth. Then, just as abruptly, she shoved me away and stomped out of the kitchen. I was left standing, looking out the kitchen window at my sleeping father, shorts around my knees and cum-covered cock flopping between my legs. I pulled my shorts up as I turned to follow Mom upstairs, hoping she would use the shower in her own room as I wiped my own goo off my cheek, courtesy of Mom's kiss.

* * *

"You're what? You're got to be kidding." Mom was furious. Dad had just told her he had to go into work. It was an emergency.

"On Saturday night? What about our reservations? What am I supposed to do? I expected a nice dinner." Mom stomped up the stairs and Dad reluctantly followed her. Man this guy knew how to get into shit. I hoped that young fluff he was into was worth it.

Ten minutes later, Dad came down the stairs.

"Jason, can you do me a big favor?"

"Sure Dad. What do you need?"

"I need you to take care of your Mom for me tonight. Take her out for a nice long dinner. She probably won't want to do anything after but she'll want a few glasses of wine. Don't rush her. Can you do that for me?

"No problem, Dad. I'll take real good care of her."

"Thanks buddy. Look, here's my take my card, reservations are already made at Chez Monique's. You'll have to wear a suit, take one of mine if you need it. She wants to go in my car, so here's my keys. Do you know where her keys are? I don't want to go back up there. She's really steamed."

I walked to the kitchen doorway, reached around and pulled Mom's keys off the little nail where she always kept her keys, and handed them to Dad.

"Thanks son. Here's a hundred bucks for being such a good sport. Mom said you were taking that Sandy out and were probably hoping to get lucky. She told me not to ask you, but I'm stuck. It's really good of you to do this for me."

"Hey, thanks Dad. I'll trade a Sandy for a Sandra any day, for a hundred bucks anyway."

Dad laughed. "Tell me that after you've spent a night with one."

That made me angry, so I decide to throw one at Dad, on Mom's behalf.

"Hey Dad, did you ever know a guy named Duke when you were in high school?"

"Duke? No, not that I remember. Why?"

"Oh I met this guy and he said his Dad came from here. His name was Duke."

"Nope. Can't say that I have," Dad said. "Wait a minute. You don't mean The Duke?"

"Could be. The Duke? Yeah, that's how he said it. The Duke."

"The Duke of Earl. Christ, I haven't thought about him for years."

"The Duke of Earl?"

"Yeah. It's an old pop tune and this guy Earl, everyone called him The Duke because of it. You met his son?"

"Yeah."

"Well, don't mention it to your Mom."

Good. I got one in for Mom.

"Why?" I asked innocently.

"Because Earl was her father's son from an earlier marriage. There was some kind of blow up and your grandfather kicked him out, told him never to come back. You mother was quite upset. Evidently, she and Earl were really close. I met her just after he left."

"Wow," I said, my mind now working hard on the implications of what Dad had just said. "I have an uncle I never knew about?

"Not a word to your mother, or anyone else. Understand?" I nodded. "It won't do any good to bring that up."

"Mum's the word, Dad."

"Good lad. Remember to take special care of your Mom tonight."

"I will."

Dad took a light sports jacket out of the hall closet to put on. One of his good ones, not one for work. I turned to go upstairs.

"I wouldn't go up there yet, son. Let her cool down. She's getting ready so she'll be a while. Your reservations are at seven," he said, opening the door. "Well, good luck. I owe you one."

I was stunned. Mom had been fooling around with her half-brother? I was pretty sure Mom had fucked this Duke guy, and she implied she had taken up with Dad soon after. Dad said there had been quite a fuss. Had Mom got pregnant? Did she get an abortion? Or had they simply been caught making out on the Hill?

I went upstairs, slowly. I had lot's to think about. I pushed Mom's door open, calling to let her know I was coming.

"I'm in here," she called from the bathroom.

"Dad said I should put on one of his suits," I called.

"There's no need to shout," Mom said.

She was standing in the bathroom doorway, head cocked to the side as she fastened an earring, in one of the quintessentially feminine poses. She was wearing a dark navy suit with a fancy white blouse under the jacket. It was a conservative except for the high cut at the side of her skirt. Her matching heels had thin straps that curled up and around her slender ankles. She looked stunning.

"Wear the dark blue one," Mom instructed. "And hurry. I want to have a drink before dinner."

The restaurant was very fancy. I had never been in it. The food and wine proved to be fabulous but the best part was just before we ordered dessert.

Mom went off to the washroom and returned a few minutes later just as our waiter arrived to take our dessert order. She started to take her jacket off and the waiter rushed to help her. I saw surprise register on his face but it was quickly concealed. I was shocked when Mom slipped into the boot beside me, handing me her jacket, her beautiful breasts pushing out firmly, nipples very evident.

The fancy, sheer white blouse clung to Mom's enviable figure. She wasn't wearing a bra! I was stunned. True, we were in a private booth at the far end of the restaurant, but still!

Mom was composed. The waiter turned in a superhuman effort. I only caught him glancing at Mom's chest once while she was scrutinizing the menu. Mom ordered dessert for both of us, including special coffees to arrive after our dessert was done.

"This is a very special night for my son," she told the waiter, "so I want dessert to be extra special."

"We'll do our best," the waiter assured Mom before gathering up the menus and leaving.

"Don't stare, Jason. It's not polite."

"Mom"

"It was hot out. Anyway, I feel free this way and nobody can really see except you."

"And our waiter," I pointed out.

"I'm sure I'm not that awful to look at."

"A hundred bucks and a free show. What a night."

"Your father paid you?"

Oh, oh. "Um, yeah."

"Well," Mom's back stiffened as she sat up straight. "I guess I'd better make sure he get's his money's worth, hadn't I?"

The waiter returned with our dessert. He set Mom's down then quickly followed with mine. He asked if everything was fine before leaving. I decided to query him about Mom's dessert, pointing at different parts and asking him how it was made. He blushed a couple of times. He was a quite a handsome man, middle-aged, and Hindu. He must have been really red for it to show.

"You brat," Mom admonished me after he left.

"What"

"You know very well what. You did that on purpose to make him look at my breasts."

"Well, like you said. There's two men here that can enjoy your charms."

"You'd like that, would you, sharing your Mom."

"No." I was serious now. "But I liked seeing the envy in his face."

Mom was pleased by that.

"Eat up," she said.

The waiter was back with our coffees as soon as we finished. He must have been watching us. I know if I was in his job, I would be watching Mom. He loitered around the table, making sure everything was perfect with our desserts. He insisted we taste the coffees to make sure were satisfactory before he left. He was enamored with Mom's blouse.

I insisted Mom try a sip of my special coffee and managed to let a small drip fall on her blouse, right on the top swell of her breast. I had actually dipped my little finger in my drink and held it under the cup when I offered it to Mom. I acted surprised to see the drop, and quickly dabbed it up with my napkin. Even Mom blushed as I patted her breast several times more than necessary. When I finished, I slid my fingers down, lightly cupping her breast as I moved down its side. I kept my fingers under Mom's tit, lightly taking its weight.

"Don't you think my mother's blouse is beautiful?" I asked.

The waiter nodded, staring at Mom's blouse.

"Was your mother beautiful like mine?"

"Yes. Very beautiful."

"Did you love your mother, like I do mine?"

I lifted Mom's tit slightly, then slid my fingers up to rest then on top again where the stain had already dried.

"Yes," he said. "I did."

I knew he knew exactly what I meant.

"There's nothing like it, is there?"

The waiter looked sad for a moment, watching me slide my fingers around to cup Mom's breast from the bottom again.

"No, there isn't." The sadness was replaced with that look of envy I had seen earlier. He left after I handed him Dad's credit card and asked for the check.

"I can't believe you did that," Mom said.

I was still cupping Mom's right breast. I didn't pull my hand away, and she didn't push it or try to twist away.

"Think of all the memories we revived for him."

"I guess you're right. It was a wonderful thing for you to do."

"And you," I said. "You let me."

"Yes, I did." Mom smiled.

"Did you notice his face? How happy his memories must be?"

"Yes, but that's not going to get you anywhere, so don't pursue it."

"Well, I just wanted to point out that you've just met a man whose mother didn't see anything wrong with it. That's all I wanted to say.

"Ok, you've said it. Now drop it. Let go of me and finish your drink. I want to leave."

When the waiter returned the check and Dad's credit card, I placed my hand possessively on Mom's upper thigh.

"Do you work every Saturday night?"

"Yes," he replied.

"You're an excellent waiter," I said. "I think my mother and I would like to come back when you're here. Is there a more private booth?"

"Yes sir. That one there," he nodded, "faces out the window onto the water and it's completely private."

"Oh, I doesn't even look like there is a booth there."

"It's only available by special reservation, sir."

"Is it possible to have service by you alone?"

"Yes sir. Of course."

"Just you."

"Just me," he nodded.

"Do you mind if I ask you if you and your wife live nearby?"

Mom was mortified by my rudeness. "Jason."

"It's all right, Madam. We do have to allow our special sons a certain latitude, don't we." He smiled at Mom, then turned to me. "I'm a widower now. I live alone just a few blocks from here."

"Thank you. I apologize if I offended you."

"Not at all, sir. In fact, I would be honored if you would allow me to make you some special teas at my home after your next dinner here."

"Thank you so much. We're honored by your invitation."

The waiter left.

"Jason, what on earth are you up to?"

"He just seemed so sad, Mom. I thought it would be nice for him to see us again, together, with nobody else around."

"You don't seriously think I'd go to his house?"

"He's a gentleman, Mom."

"I can see that, but I'm not about to cheat on your father."

That was rich.

"I didn't mean that, Mom. And I don't think he would expect it. I just think he would love to see a mother and son together being familiar with each other, in private, like he and his mother."

I opened the check, retrieved Dad's card and putting it in my pocket. The waiter had written something on the back.

Rarely is a man so lucky as you. You are truly blessed.

"Let your father give him a very big tip," Mom said.

"If you want father to pay a really big price, come with me for tea."

I completed and signed the check.

"Maybe I'll just do that."

The waiter arrived as we got up from the booth. I thought he was after the check but instead he reached for Mom's jacket and held it out for her to slip her arms through the sleeves. He ignored the check and walked us to the door. We felt very special leaving.

At the door, Mom turned and said, "Thank you for a lovely evening. I look forward to another."

* * * * *

Mom was quiet on the way home.

"You really surprise me sometimes," she said. "You've become an interesting man."

"I have your genes," I replied.

Mom stayed on her side of the car. Perhaps I'd gone a little to far in the restaurant.

Dad wasn't home yet. Mom wrote him a note and left it on the table.

"I'm going to bed. Make sure your father sees it when he gets home."

I was dismissed. I really had blown it. She didn't even want me to pay my dues for the afternoon's debauchery in the kitchen. Shit.

Mom sauntered away, leaning her head to one side as she removed her earrings. The slow sway of her hips as she walked up the stairs, the way it shifted her ass around, was particularly mesmerizing.

I waited for Dad to arrive, which he did less than an hour later. He'd had a few to drink and shouldn't have been driving. Mom would really blow up if she saw him now. I directed him to the note.

"Crap," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"She wants me to sleep in the guest room downstairs. Says she doesn't want to see me until morning."

"That's probably a good idea, Dad. You've had a few and you know what she thinks of drinking and driving."

"Yeah, I guess so. I guess it's the basement if I want to live."

Dad patted me on the back. "Thanks buddy. I owe you again."

He went downstairs. I noticed a smudge of red lipstick on his shirt collar. Dad wasn't being the sharpest tool in the shed lately. He hadn't even asked if Mom had enjoyed dinner.

I turned all the lights out and went up to bed. Mom's door was closed but her light was still on. I knocked on the door and opened it after she told me to come in. Mom was sitting up in bed, reading. She removed her reading glasses and peered over them at me.

"Your father's home?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"He's had a few?"

"Yeah," I nodded again.

"A lot?"

"Not bad," I said.

"Did he smell like perfume?"

"No." I didn't expand.

"You showed him my note?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He went downstairs."

"Until morning?"

"Yes."

I turned to go. "Goodnight Mom."

"Where are you going?

"To my room. To bed."

"You're going to leave me alone?"

"Uh..."

"Your father paid you a hundred bucks to look after me. I should think he expects you to keep me company, especially when he shows up home half pissed when he was supposed to be working."

I turned back toward Mom.

"Close the door."

I pushed it closed.

"Come over here."

I walked over to the bed.

"Get in," Mom said.

I lifted the covers and started to slide in.

"Don't get in my bed with your clothes on."

I scrambled out and took my shirt off.

"Pants too."

I removed my pants and socks. I paused, then started to take my shorts off. They were already tented to full extension.

"Leave those on."

It was worth a try. I sighed, lifted the covers, and got in. I snuggled close to Mom. She ignored me and continued to read her book. Slowly, I worked closer until my head was resting on her shoulder, my body was pressed lightly to her side, and my feet grazed her legs. Mom put her book down on the table beside her and dimmed the table lamp.

"So, how do you feel, lying in bed with your mother while your father sleeps in the basement?"

"Lucky."

Mom laughed. "Good answer."

"Thanks, Sandra," I whispered.

"Cut the crap," Mom said.

I laughed. "It was worth a try."

"True." Mom turned the conversation back to Dad. "I think it's appropriate he's in the basement while his son basks in his mother's after dinner glow, wondering how he can get into her pants."

"How can he?" I asked, snuggling closer to Mom.

"He can't."

I tied to kiss Mom but she turned her face away.

"Do you remember this morning?" Mom asked.

I nodded.

"Do you want that to happen again?"

I definitely nodded.

"Then you had better get down there and start paying your dues, mister."

Mom looked like she had just given me orders to mow the lawn.

I ducked my head under the covers, and pushed my face onto Mom's thighs. She opened her legs and her hand nudged my head into her center, opening her legs. She was naked under her nightie. I started lapping at her inner thighs with my tongue. She didn't react other than opening her legs wider. Soon my tongue was exploring around her mound, running around and around the outside of her pubes. I didn't wait too long before pushing its tip through her slit, slowly wriggling it inside to taste her sweet nectar. 

I surprised her by sucking in her hooded clit, then pushing my tongue inside, searching out her inner hole and puncturing it with my raspy, red snake. Mom had really gone all out for me in the kitchen and I wanted to eat her like she'd never been eaten before. I spent a long, long time down there. Mom was gyrating her hips all over, fast, slow, whatever felt good to her. I was happy knowing she was enjoying herself. No other girl had ever reacted like this, but then, I had never put so much effort and feeling into it. She was arching her back, lifting herself completely off the bed except for her shoulders and her feet, keeping her pussy firmly shoved into my face.

When Mom really got going and I knew she was on the slippery slope to a big orgasm, beyond the two small ones she'd already had, I slipped a finger into her cunt and worked it in and out as I sucked her lips and filled her with my tongue. But it was when I slid my finger down to rub over her little pucker that Mom really started going wild. That was nothing to what happened when I replaced my finger with my tongue, vibrating my tongue between her cheeks, teasing her hole with its reptilian tip before plunging it deep into the depths of her asshole and swirled it around. The sounds that were flying around above my head. Unbelievable. I returned my mouth to Mom's mound, sucking her clit into my mouth. Soon after, Mom shuddered to a thundering orgasm.

She turned around onto her tummy, perhaps to get her pussy away from my still active tongue. Immediately, I pushed her legs really wide, inserted a finger in her cunt, and started teasing her ass with my tongue again. I would show her no mercy.

It didn't take long for all four fingers to work their way inside Mom's sloppy, soaking wet snooch. She loved the big finger job, that's for sure. Soon, I had my most of my hand inside and I fucked her with whole arm movements while my tongue jittered constantly in her puckerhole. I turned Mom into a moaning puddle of desperate need. Finally, with loud accompaniment, Mom quivered head to toe in an earth shattering orgasm.

She lay still, gasping for air. I settled on my side beside her, raising my head to her level, resting on the pillow and listening to her hoarse breathing. I waited until her breathing was normal, then pulled her face toward me with my hand. Mom turned and pressed her body to mine, engaging me in a long, sensuous kiss. She pulled back and smiled, then moved back toward me but my hand tipped her face down so she could see my hard cock. A gentle push on her shoulder and down she went, pausing only to blow hot air on my tip, before sliding her mouth down the length of my shaft.

What a cocksucker. It was hard to believed she hadn't sucked cock for twenty years. As Sandy, I suspected my mother had sucked a few cocks. Maybe it was like riding a bicycle. Once you've learned, you never forget how. Whatever, Mom really sucked me nicely, stopping once in a while to regale me with the most wanton, dreamy look, like having my cock in her mouth was the most exquisite feeling in the world. What a change from the last time.

When I started pumping it in her mouth she knew I was ready. I tried to hold her head but she pushed my hands away and laid back. I followed her mouth, twisting up and leaning over to do so. Mom pulled further away until she was lying flat on her back. I twisted over until I was leaning over her, my cock hovering over her open mouth. She gave me that look again and I plunged inside.

Mom's hand regained my cock, but only to guide it when I went off the mark, and to tickle my balls, goading me into harder thrusts. I pumped and pumped, pulling out only to let her breath or dispel excess drool, my cock dripping on her face until she was ready to take me again. Then I was fucking her face again while she tugged on my balls, bringing me back every time I strayed too far away.

I hung my head down so I could look back to watch my cock pumping Mom's face. Soon after that, I came, filling her mouth and spilling over. I pulled my hips up to let my last few squirts spray over Mom's face. When I was done, Mom slid out from under me and quickly went to the bathroom. I flopped on my back, fully satisfied, listening to Mom cleaning herself. When she returned, I turned my head languidly to watch crawl up onto the bed. Was she mad? She didn't look it.

"Different than being with Dad, I guess?" I asked.

"Don't talk about your father. Leave him in the basement."

Mom crawled over me and straddled my chest.

"And the answer to your question, is yes. I like your initiative, your courage to go for what you want. Like this," she said.

Mom walked her knees forward, beside my head and ground her pussy down onto my face.

"You owe me again," Mom said. "Get to work."

So I did. I lapped and licked and poked and sucked. Mom remained in control. She pulled away several times to stop herself from coming. She made me pay dearly for stroking in her mouth, for coming on her face. It was her turn to drench mine and she finally did, with a vengeance.

After I cleaned my face, I returned to bed to find the light off and Mom face down, sleeping. I joined her and quickly dropped off myself.

I woke to the first dawn light streaming in the window. It was morning and my time with Mom was coming to an end, at least for today. Dad was an early riser. Any minute, he could open the bedroom door. I hoped he had a hangover and slept in, or at least made it no further than the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. I convinced myself he wouldn't actually come upstairs, that he would wait until Mom came down.

I looked at the clock radio on the bedside table to see what time it was and spied a little bottle like the one Mom had taken from the picnic basket to oil her hands before she jacked me off. I turned in the dim light to find Mom still lying on her tummy, legs slightly parted. I got an idea.

Quietly, I pulled her legs wider apart and placed myself between them. I ventured a cautious flick of my tongue, in the crack of Mom's ass. No response. I ventured again, a longer lick, and when that produced no response, I pushed my tongue between her cheeks and sought out her little hole. Minutes later, my tongue was buried deep in Mom's ass.

She was deep asleep, there was not doubt about that. The little moans emanating from her sleepy lips were evidence of the sweet dreams my loving tongue managed to produce. Every minute or so, I pulled my head up, spread her cheeks apart, and drooled in and around her hole. For half an hour I slobbered and tongued her ass, until it was slippery with my saliva. When I could hold her cheeks apart with the tips of both thumbs in her ass, I knew she was ready.

I climbed up and pressed the tip of my cock against her little asterisk, and pushed. The thrill of watching her pucker give way was an awesome experience. I kept nudging gently ahead until her bum swallowed my whole helmet, then kept up a steady pressure until half my cock was lodged in Mom's ass. Then I started a long, slow series of tiny thrusts until I was moving freely in and out of her butt. I leaned over Mom's back and concentrated on getting my whole cock into her ass.

A long groan was the first sign that Mom was awake.

"Unnnnggghhhhhhh. Jason, what are you doing to me?"

"You wouldn't give me what I want, so I'm taking this," I whispered hoarsely.

"Noooo. Not in my bum. It's dirty."

Despite her expressed horror, her ass was pushing back to meet my eager cock.

"I know. Haven't you done it this way before?"

"No."

"How does it feel," I gasped.

"Really different. Filling."

"We're just getting started," I panted. "It's going to grow until you can barely stand it. You'll love it."

Mom grunted a as I threw several harder thrusts into her.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes. Ungghh, unngghhh. It's, ungghh, getting better."

"You can, unghhh, say that again," I replied.

"Yeah...yeah," Mom gasped.

"Uhhhhh, I'm fucking your dirty, unngghhh, asssss."

I shut up then and concentrated on fucking Mom's ass. I pulled her up onto her knees and worked her like that for awhile, kind of a vanilla fuck, then squatted over her and pumped her slow and deep until my legs tired. I lowered Mom flat onto the bed and sat on her thighs, gripping a cheek in each hand while I fucked her harder and harder. I loved the way she seemed to lose herself in it, enjoying it more and more. I pulled her head up so I could watch her face grimace with my efforts and became particularly fond of her close-eyed grunts at the headboard. I was hard pressed to say what Mom seemed to like more, my hand in her cunt, tongue in her pussy, or cock in her ass. She seemed to love all three.

I wouldn't have thought you could fuck an ass as hard as my final pounding frenzy but every sound and motion from Mom seemed to beg for it, to demand it. Mind you, this was my first trip up hershey road, so what did I know?

My cock was raw and spewing my sticky goo all over her ass was as much fun as spraying her face. I knew in my heart that I would never be satisfied fucking any other woman. Not even close.

* * * * *

Dad wasn't up when I went downstairs. He didn't arrive until the coffee was done and I was pouring my first cup.

"Hey sport. Pour one for me too."

Dad shuffled behind to straight to the kitchen table. I took a mug over to him, black the way he liked it.

"Hang over?"

"Not really. Tired more than anything."

I sat down after putting milk in my coffee. I couldn't take black and I didn't like cream.

"Do you think your mother's still mad at me?"

"I don't know. I told her I was putting the coffee on and she told me to bring it up to her if you were downstairs," I lied.

"Oh. That's not good. I better make myself scarce."

"I was going to have to do the lawn today," I said, my voice trailing off as I finished that leader.

Dad squinted at me. "I guess I do owe you, don't I."

"Well...,"

"That's ok, son. If you don't ask in this world, you don't get. Maybe you're make a businessman yet." Dad laughed at that. "I'll just finish this up and get while the getting's good, and pay my dues at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone."

Dad took a large gulp of steaming coffee. It didn't seem to scald his booze-coated mouth.

"Say, Dad."

"Yeah?"

"That Duke guy, my lost uncle. What was he like?"

"Earl? Look son, you don't want to get into that. Your mother is super sensitive about it. Don't ever mention it to her. She'll flip out for sure."

"I won't Dad, I promise. But I was just wondering what was he like."

"Well, it was a long time ago but Earl looked a lot like you. I guess your mother and he shared a lot of genes that got passed onto you. Everyone always said you're all from your mother's side."

"Oh," I said, my thoughts wandering.

"That it?" Dad asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Ok. Then let's not talk about that again."

"Ok, Dad."

Dad drained his mug and struggled to his feet.

"Dues paying time," he said.

After Dad went outside, I poured a cup of coffee and fixed it up the way Mom liked it. I didn't make another for myself.

Mom rolled over when I came in and sat up when she saw the coffee in my hand. She was bare from the waist up, her gorgeous tits jostling as she wiggled into a comfortable position.

"Thanks, Jason. What a sweet boy you are to your mother. Whatever did I do to deserve this?"

Mom's face showed how much she was amused with her own wit. I ignored her and walked back to close the door. I stopped by the bed and dropped my shorts before getting under the sheet beside Mom. I was careful not to jiggle the bed so I wouldn't spill her coffee.

"Maybe you should go to your own room, Jason. Your father could come up any minute."

"I don't think not," I said.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Last night, he said he owed me one." I moved my hand onto Mom's belly and slowly caressed her tummy in a wide sweep around her navel.

"Did he now?"

"Yup. In fact, he said he owed me big time." I moved my hand up to cup Mom's breast, squeezing it gently to make her nipple stand up. I leaned down to kiss it but Mom brushed me away with her free hand.

"He can't pay his debts with me, Mister."

"Oh, I know that mother. You should hear the lawn mower start up any second now." I moved my face back until it hovered over Mom's stiffening nipple, pleased by her body's response to the proximity of my mouth.

"No way," Mom said. "There's no way your father..."

She was interrupted by the sound of the rider mower roaring to life just as my lips slipped over her nipple.

"I'm impressed," Mom said as I sucked her nipple into my mouth.

I glanced up to meet her amused eyes. She was smiling, holding her cup of coffee to the side in her left hand to make way for my nuzzling head. I felt her right hand curl around my neck and her fingers extend up into my hair. I sucked, content and glowing in Mom's high regard.

I sucked and sucked, exchanging tits so neither nipple was jilted of my attentions. I was aware of Mom periodically taking a sip of coffee. She was savoring it, making it last. Eventually, I let my hand slide down over Mom's tummy, leaving her breasts in the 'hands' of my capable lips. Mom didn't say anything until my fingers brushed over her little hoodie to tease the moist slit below, pushing in gently to prod her lips apart.

"I don't think that's a very good idea this late in the morning."

I pulled my mouth off Mom's tit. "Why not? Dad's mowing the lawn."

"All right," Mom conceded, parting her legs. "Just while we can hear the mower, but you go straight to your room as soon as it stops, you hear?"

"Yes, Mom." I wiggled a couple of fingers inside.

"No arguments."

"No arguments, Mom."

I twisted my hand so my fingers aligned up side by side instead of top to bottom, widening Mom's slit. I felt her push herself onto my fingers, trying to pull them inside with her vaginal muscles, like a snake sucking in its prey.

"Oh, god that feels good," Mom sighed. I was on my way.

I worked Mom's pussy, pushing in and out, twiddling her lips with feathery side to side brushes, and explored in and around the flap of skin with the commanding view through the pink trench below. Mom continued sipping from her cup until her uneven breathing made a spill quite likely. After a particularly strong response culminating in a violent heave of her chest, I sat up and took the cup away.

Putting it on the table, I noticed the little bottle of oil. I picked it up and dripped a largish puddle into my palm while Mom watched me with glazed eyes.

"What are you doing with that?" she asked.

"Nothing," I replied.

"I'm not turning over, if that's what you're thinking. Your father could be finished any time now."

"I don't want you to turn over," I replied, cupping my palm to hold the tiny pool of oil and then holding the bottle over Mom's belly. Mom's eyes followed the bottle, watching closely as I turned it over as I moved my hand lower, dumping its contents onto her pussy. Mom's pelvis lurched up as soon as the oil contacted her pussy hair. I directed the stream onto her slit, allowing it to fill and puddle until it overflowed her lips. Mom's hips began rocking in little fucking movements.

While Mom's hips were still in motion, I moved my hand over Mom's chest and quickly inverted it, splashing its contents onto Mom's tits. I rubbed the oil into her breasts as sensuously as I could. Mom moaned.

"What are you doing, Jason?"

I didn't answer.

"What are you up to?"

I remained silent.

"Do you want to put your thing there? Is that what you want?"

I kept my cards close to my chest. I stopped rubbing the oil in and returned it to Mom's hot, pulsing pussy, now soaked with oil. I massaged it with my hand, teasing with just a fingertip inside her slippery lips. Mom began spreading the oil over her chest with her own hands, squeezing her own breasts, forcing her stiff nipples out between her fingers.

"That's right, play with your tits while you talk," I whispered.

"Talk?"

I nodded.

Mom looked down at her hand squeezing her tits. She pressed them together.

"Come on big boy. Put it here. Slide it through. Fuck them."

"No. Not that."

"You want to squirt on my face? Is that it?"

Now that certainly appealed to me, but I was after bigger game.

"No. I want you to talk to me while I do this."

I pushed my fingers, all of them, into Mom's pussy, spreading her lips wide apart. Mom's legs opened wide and her hips shoved up to meet my hand, easing their path, trying to entice them further inside. Oh man, she loved the thickness. She was hot for it.

"What...do you want to talk about?" Mom gasped, writhing on my hand which accommodated her desire by twisting around in her gaping cunt.

"Ohhhh, ohhhh, god."

"Tell me more about The Duke."

"What, oh god, what do you want to know?" Mom was gasping for air as my hand ground its way further inside her.

"You were hot for him, weren't you?"

"Yessss."

"Why? Did he do things like this?"

"Yesssss," Mom gasped as I suddenly pushed my hand deep and her pussy stretched over my third knuckles.

"He was special, wasn't he?" I crawled over Mom's leg so I was squatting between. I teased her clit with my thumb and started moving my hand slightly in and out.

"Yessss. No one felt like him."

"He fucked you better than anyone, didn't he?"

"Yessss. Oh god, Jason. Stop."

"Ever. Right?"

"Yes. He was the best I ever had."

Mom's hips and my arm moved as one. Mom looked down at the spectacle of her hunching hips and my hand, almost in to my wrist. I saw her eyes focus on my huge hardon wavering above my milking hand.

"Jason. No. I said you can't."

"Because he was special, wasn't he?"

Mom shook her head. "I won't let you."

"He made you pregnant, didn't he?"

Mom's eyes widened. I could see the fear in her eyes. She nodded.

"And he ran away, because he was afraid of your father."

Mom shook her head.

"No?"

Again, she shook her head.

"You sent him away?"

Mom nodded.

"Why?"

"I can't tell you. You'll hate me."

I pulled my hand out with a loud squelch, then leaned forward, laying my body on top of mom, my chest on her oily tits, my cock lying length-wise on her soppy pussy with its hair matted back over her bloated pubes.

The lawn mower stopped. The silence was deafening.

"I'll always love you mother, because you're special, the same way Earl was special to you."

I rubbed my bare cock up and down Mom's slit and reached between our bodies to grasp a tit in each hand.

"Why did you send him way?"

"Because I knew you would look like him," she wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Shhhhhh. Don't cry. Beautiful, beautiful mother. Don't cry."

I rained kisses over Mom's face. On her cheeks, her lips, her nose, forehead and eyes.

"Please don't cry, special lady," I begged her.

Mom stopped crying.

"You don't hate me?" she sniffed.

"Hate you? It makes me love you even more."

Mom sniffed again, then lifted her legs and curled them around my waist until her heels rested on my back.

"I want something better than your hand," she whispered, digging her heels in and lifting her ass off the bed.

I drew back and then slid forward, easily penetrating her well-prepared pussy and sliding all the way in until my pole filled her cunt, reaching beyond the limits of my hand. The sound of the weedeater completed my triumph.

Mom's arms stretched out and she took my face into her hands.

"Fuck me, son. It's been too long since I've had a special one."

I started moving, my thighs straining with the effort of a languid fuck. As I pumped, my head filled with visions of Mom visting me in the fall and spring breaks, and Christmas at home with Dad beavering away at work, while worked equally hard a home. All my dreams came true. 






