Playing with Mom Ch. 01
byalwayswantedto©

All characters are 18 or older.

My parents were both a match and a mismatch. Dad was a senior executive and Mother stopped pursuing her own career once she married. Dad's career became their joint project and each of them focused their attention on reaching the top, which they did. Social networking was essential for my father's rise and my Mother was a crucial element in his success. In the last eight years they enjoyed being the arbitrator for other people's success, as others had previously decided their fates. My mother, especially, thrived on the attention of all the people under my father. She loved the dinners and parties, small and large, over which she presided. Despite her relative youth at twenty years my father's junior, she was the woman to please, and all the managers and their spouses knew it. They had to perform well on the job for Dad, and for Mom in the social milieu.

But then Dad retired. His career had been everything to him. Invitations disappeared with my father's vanishing influence, and Mother wilted in the social vacuum that followed. Father's health deteriorated quickly, and he withdrew into himself, eventually becoming housebound and confined to his room and office upstairs, moving between them in an electric wheelchair. Mother stayed home, not used to social interaction without the built-in respect for her position. My father shunned the titular directorships he was offered as a respected executive. He had always been a man of action and he preferred to simply fade away. But this closed the door for my Mother too, and their close relationship eroded further with each step away from the executive suite.

It was into this environment that I returned for summer at the end of my last year of college. I had grown up in private schools away from home, and had been sent away for summer activities as well. Since I was small, I had really only spent weekly breaks, Christmas, and a few weeks in the summer at home. And when I was there, my parents were usually distracted with work-related issues or events. In the summers at college, I hadn't even gone home, spending the time traveling instead. I barely knew my parents, or they me.

By the time I came home, Mother was depressed. She and father rarely spoke, or interacted at all. Each stayed primarily on their own floor of the house, except at bedtime when my mother retired to her own room upstairs. But Mother retained the elegant beauty that had steadily helped my father up the ladder. She may have been a little faded compared to the vibrant exuberance of her thirties, but she retained her figure and was still a pretty woman.

However, a depressive atmosphere enveloped the house and my mother's dress matched it, a remarkable change if you had known her. Gone were the figure enhancing gowns and chic dresses. Mom -- odd, but I had always thought of her as Mother, until I saw her in such a vulnerable state -- often shuffled about the house in a bathrobe, a simple housedress, or even, god forbid, sweatshirt and sweatpants. Never having felt close, in fact many times hating my self-absorbed parents, it was strange to feel my heart go out to this lonely, lost woman.

Perhaps this is why I started paying attention to my mom. After a couple of weeks, she started to react to my attention, not consciously, but her behavior began to change, little by little. One afternoon while I was laying on the couch reading a book, my mother came in and sat down on the chair at the far end of the couch, at about a 45 degree angle toward me. When she crossed her right leg over her left knee, her robe fell to the side, baring half her thigh. I kept glancing up at her lovely, exposed leg and I believe she finally noticed that I hadn't turned a page for a long time. She didn't say anything, but she began to dangle her slipper on her right toe. Her calf tensing and relaxing with each dip of her foot, and the muscle at the bottom of her thigh kept bulging and relaxing as well.

It was just a leg, but I could feel my cock begin to stir. Maybe it was partly because I was sure she knew I was transfixed by her legs. I stood up and started to leave, feeling the need to escape before a full-fledged boner prevented movement completely. As I passed my mother's chair, her voice pulled me back.

"Jay?"

I turned, "Yes, Mother?"

"Be a dear, and refill my wine for me, will you?" She turned to get her glass, her robe parting on both of her legs. As she lifted her glass toward me, holding it over her partly bared legs, she smiled. As she reached forward to pass the glass to me her robe gapped over her chest bringing my attention to the swell of her breasts. Her smile widened. I grasped the glass and beat a retreat to the dining room.

"There's an open bottle in the kitchen, dear."

"Ok, Mother."

After refilling my mother's glass I waited for my boner to subside. When I returned, she had adjusted her robe to cover her left leg but her right thigh was still exposed, and the gap between her breasts was open lower down, clearly exposing the inside swell of both breasts as she leaned forward to take her glass of wine.

"Stay with me while I drink my wine. I hate drinking alone," she said, as she set her glass down on the table.

As I sat down she began to read again, slowly dipping her foot. Her head was turned slightly away from me, allowing me to gaze freely at her exposed leg, which I did. She had very nice legs. I stared at them intently, a strange enjoyment spreading through me as I dragged my eyes back and forth along their length, automatically moving up and down with the movement of her foot. On one swing up her legs, I noticed that the left side of her robe had gapped forward, providing an intriguing glimpse of the profile of her breast. As her foot came up, it gapped further, and I thought I could see the nipple briefly appear.

"Could you pass me my glass, dear?"

I froze as I realized she had turned toward me, catching me looking into her robe. But she didn't seem angry. I woodenly picked up her glass and turned to hand it back to her. She reached out with her left hand, not her right, an action which forced her robe open sufficiently for me to see her entire tit hang out while she took the glass. She appeared to fumble it a bit, prolonging my view of her bare breast suspended in the air between us, then falling against her chest as she sat back with her wine.

The twisting motion of her torso had widened the gap in her robe wider but she didn't seem to notice as she continued reading, and I resumed ogling her legs and trying to see her breast. Her legs were bared more too as the robe had pulled apart there as well.

After a few minutes, she said, "Wine, honey," and held out her right hand.

I placed the glass in her hand, waited while took a sip, and retrieved it from her outstretched hand when she was done, setting it back on the table. When I turned back to her, I noticed that the robe had pulled apart even more, opening the entire side of her breast to my gaze. The robe was open down to her navel, which was just visible. As I noticed this, she uncrossed her legs and raised her left knee, pulling her foot back to rest at the edge of the chair cushion. Her robe dropped off completely, baring her left thigh to my grateful eyes. After a moment, Mother turned to me. I didn't avert my eyes, and she didn't seem to mind.

"You've been in college for a few years now, and traveling. You're probably up on the latest fashions, aren't you, dear?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mother," I replied, absently, still concentrating on her legs.

"Nonsense. You've been out and about, you've seen what people are wearing. You know what the current styles are, don't you?"

"I don't know."

"Sure you do, even if you don't know it. If I try on some of my dresses, you could let me know what you think. It would be fun. Could you do that for me?"

I much preferred that she kept reading, but I realized that I had gotten away with rather brazen behavior, and quickly agreed that, yes, that would indeed be fun, although I didn't think that at all. Nevertheless, I agreed and Mother stood up to go change into a dress. As she walked away she turned her head over her shoulder and said, "Fill my glass again, and pour some for yourself. We'll have a fashion show and drink some wine. It'll be fun," she repeated.

I wasn't sure if she was trying to convince me, or making a promise. Anyway, she walked upstairs with a bounce in her step. In the space of half an hour, my mother's depression had lifted. Maybe devoting an afternoon to a fashion show was the least I could do, although, perhaps, altruism wasn't my only motivation.

At any rate, I refilled Mom's glass and poured one for me too. That about emptied the bottle, so I fetched another. I drank a full glass of that waiting for her to come back downstairs. By the time I heard her coming, my mind was full of sexy images of what she's be wearing, from short black dresses slit up the side to see through negligees. Yeah, right.

She glided gracefully down the stairs, partly obscured by the railing, and came into full view as she reached the bottom three steps which turned toward the living room. She was wearing an elegant, full length green gown which nicely offset her eyes. She had put her hair up and done her makeup. She was gorgeous, but she wasn't nearly as revealing as she had been in her plaid robe. I could feel a distinct droop below my belt.

"What do you think, darling?" she asked as she entered the room and did a slow turn around to her left as she crossed the floor toward me.

"Magnificent, Mom," I said, "You look stunning."

"Thank you, dear. It is a wonderful dress," she said, deflecting my flattery to her clothes.

I vouchsafed my agreement, not entirely facetiously, as I noticed how low the gown was cut in the back despite the front covering up to her neck.

"Turn around again, Mom, but slowly so I can see." She did, more than once, seeming to revel in the feel of the gown and the admiration of an audience, however small, once again.

"It really is marvelous, Mother, truly elegant."

"It is, isn't it?" Her eyes shone. "I've set out a bunch of others. Oh, this is going to be so much fun, Jay."

Leaning down, she picked up her glass and downed most of it is a single gulp, then turned and swept away to the stairs.

"I won't be long, dear, I've already got the next one picked out."

True to her word, she was back in less than fifteen minutes in another gown. The hem was still below her knees and her back was covered more but the neckline was lower, although not exactly revealing. I wondered how soon I could get her back into her plain old robe.

"What do you think of this one? Cat got your tongue?"

"Well ...," I began.

"You're right. It's not really me, is it?

"Uh, no Mom, I don't think it's quite you. I'm not sure why, it just doesn't seem quite right."

"I know what you mean. Oh, you're so helpful, Jay. You've grown up so much. I do need someone to be honest with me, like your father used to be. Wait here, I'll be right back."

And off she went, too excited to stop for a sip of wine. But I wasn't, as I drained another glass.

Five minutes later, she was back, swinging around in a pirouette as soon as she entered the room. This time she was wearing a very chic, white dress cut just above her knees but it was low in both front and back, and her arms were bare. Her hair was shaken out, falling to her shoulders. She really did look stunning.

She walked straight to me and stopped, resting one hand on a cocked hip, "Well ...?"

"Gorgeous, Mom, you're beautiful. That is a real keeper."

"It feels great, too. Almost sporty." She leaned forward with her hands at her sides, grasping the dress. "But I think it should be a little shorter, don't you think?" She raised the hem about two inches as she leaned further forward to look, giving me a great view of her cleavage.

"Maybe even a bit higher," I said, still fixated on her boobs and not looking at her legs at all.

"Yes, I think you're right. I've got something like that upstairs I used to wear to some of our more fun parties," and she started to turn away.

"Wait, Mom, you're forgetting about your wine," I said reaching over to pick up her refilled glass.

"Oh, yes. Thanks." She stooped down to take the glass but she didn't straighten up to drink it. Instead, she sipped the wine while remaining stooped over, tilting her head back. She continued taking small sips until half the glass was gone. Her breasts hung forward, crowding the V in her neck for the whole time, well over a minute, during which my eyes stayed glued on her delicious swells. I'm not sure if she was rewarding me or just trying to avoid spilling any on her white dress.

Then she passed the glass back to me, "Well, I must be off for the next number. Put some nice music on." And she was gone again.

I was still trying to figure out what kind of music to play when I heard her step softly into the room behind me. The high heels had been replaced by a pair of very low navy blue pumps that matched the color of her dress. And what a dress! It was even lower in the front, dipping down to her tummy, being held together by a pair of gold chains, one just above her breasts and another just below. The hem was a hair lower than mid-thigh. As I stood there with my mouth open she turned very slowly in front of me, and then again. The dress was cut so low in the back that I could see the swell of her buttocks. I was speechless!

"I can see you like this one, don't you, dear?"

I nodded, slowly, openly looking her up and down. I couldn't help it.

"Oh, your father used to love the look on people's faces when we arrived and he took off my coat. He loved dancing with me in this dress, and he wouldn't let anyone else have a dance. He said it was only for us."

"Well, I can see why he wanted to keep that one in the family, Mom," I said, finally regaining some composure.

"Yes, isn't it just wicked," her eyes glinted above a mischievous grin that I'd never seen before. "Oh, where is that song?" She started sorting through the CDs, grabbed one and replaced the one I had put on. "Come dance with me, Jay," she cried, as a slow number drifted out from the speakers.

"Mom, I can't dance," I objected as she grasped my hands and pulled me to the middle of the room. She dropped my hands, undulated sexily in front of me, then held her hands out.

"Come, on sweetie, dance with your Mother."

I stepped toward her and she came right into me, throwing her arms around my neck, nestling her head into my shoulder. She moved to the music, burrowing her head into my shoulder, facing away, her breasts pressing against me. As she pulled in tighter I could feel her tummy and pelvis slowly twist against me. We moved like this for several minutes. When the song ended, she kept swaying against me until the next one started.

She turned her head inward and mumbled, "It's been so long. Oh, I've missed this so much."

Mother looked up and kissed me on the side of my chin, on the corner of my mouth, before nestling in again, pressing harder this time. I reacted, my cock swelling against her. I couldn't hide it dancing like this, but I didn't want to stop. I couldn't think of anything but how hot she was. There wasn't anything I could do so I just got harder.

Mom danced slowly and stayed close, swaying against me between songs. By the third dance, she was simply swaying all the time, her feet no longer moving. My cock was as hard and fragile as peanut brittle. My hands had slipped down from her shoulders to hold her against me, pressing into her bare back just above her hips. From time to time, I moved them up and down her skin, sliding the tips of my fingers along her sides to the swell of her hips.

As the fourth song started, she whispered, "I'd better go and try on the next outfit."

"No more, Mom," I protested, "this one's the best anyway."

"But you haven't seen the others, yet. I have lots more."

"Not today, Mom. Wear this one longer," I wheedled, desperate to have her continue.

"Will you promise to let me show you the rest another time?"

"Absolutely, Mom. I promise."

"Will you dance with me for the whole CD?"

"Ah, Mom," I protested, but feebly.

"It's fashion show or dancing. Your choice."

"OK."

She broke away from me. "Start the CD over. You promised to dance to the whole thing."

She walked over to her wine glass, picked it up and drained it. I started the CD over as she filled her glass again. When she turned back to me, she kicked off her shoes, took another big drink of wine, then walked to the window and pulled the curtains closed. She walked slowly toward me, her arms raised up ready to dance, "Come on, honey."

Her arms circled around me as she pulled herself in tight, breasts pressing lightly and nipples poking into my chest, and sweetest of all, her tummy brushing against my hardon. Mother pulled my hands around her waist and down to the swell of her hips, then further around until they rested at the top of her buttocks.

"Let's dance like it's the end of the evening," she whispered, then turned her face into my chest and started swaying against me.

I held her like that through the first two songs. On the third, I started to push against her with subtle presses. By the fourth song, I let my hands stray onto her buttocks and pulled her gently to me as I pushed against her.

At the end of the fifth song, we paused the CD and broke to refill our glasses. I'm not sure about Mom, but I was definitely getting light headed. When we started again, she came right to me and pressed in tight. I moved my hands down over the swell of her cheeks and pulled her in, slowly grinding her against me. The sixth song was a long one. Not thinking, I nibbled on her shoulder and kissed the hollow of her neck but she didn't object or protest in any way.

I took this as tacit permission to take further license with her. I rocked my cock from side to side, even rubbing it up and down a little against her mound, and she didn't shy away. I couldn't believe I was doing this, much less getting away with it!

For the seventh song, we stood in the middle of the room, gently rubbing ourselves against each other. We continued this through the break. I sucked on the hollow of her neck while she clutched my shoulders, lifted one foot and slid it around to rub the back of my leg. I dropped my hand down behind her thigh and lifted her leg higher onto mine, then mashed my cock unexpectedly into her pelvic bone, yanking a response from deep within her throat.

"Ohhhhhh," she moaned.

I rubbed harder, peppering her with little fuck movements. Our breathing was now ragged and we weren't really dancing, we were just humping each other through our clothes and moaning in unison.

Suddenly Mother went limp in my arms. I continued thrusting against her jerky pelvis as she shuddered her climax onto my swollen member, causing me to start spurting in my pants. "Oh, Mom, mom, mom," I cried softly into her neck.

Gradually our movements subsided and her leg fell down to the floor, the dress falling back into place. She started to sway in a dance and I matched her movements. When the next song started, Mom pulled away and said, "I don't think I can finish the whole CD, sweetie. You win." And she stepped away to the couch, turning and sitting down. She reached for her wine glass, but it was empty and so was the bottle.

She looked beautiful, hair disheveled and face flushed, dress high on her thighs and legs stretched out with one crossed over the other.

She stood up. "I think I'll go upstairs and have a little nap," and she began to walk past me.

I reached out and stopped her. "We can finish the CD another time if you like, Mom."

"Oh, that's sweet, Jay. That's very fair of you. You're a gentleman."

"And I'd like to see your other dresses, too. And any other clothes you'd like to model."

"That's precious. I'd love to show them to you."

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Can you give me a goodnight kiss. Like you used to when I was little."

"But I'm only going for an afternoon nap."

"Still ..."

"OK." And she turned her face up to give me a peck.

"No, a real kiss. I'm grown up now."

I turned my face into hers. She didn't turn away, she just waited with her lips partly open and her eyes closed. I pressed my mouth down onto hers, folded my arms around her, and kissed her. It was a long kiss. When it was finished, I immediately started another, and then another. She put her arm up around my neck. On the fourth kiss, I slipped my tongue gently into her mouth. It was the longest kiss yet but when it ended she pulled away and whispered, "I've got to go, got to go," and she was gone.

Mom didn't come down to make supper so I put together a meal and took a tray up to Father. He was working on his memoirs, and didn't want company. I left and knocked softly on the door to my Mother's room. There was no answer. I pushed the door open, calling softly, "Mom, mom?"

She didn't respond. She was laying face down on the top of her bed, her navy blue dress still on, looking a little rumpled and sitting high up on the backs of her legs. Her legs were open, letting me see the bottom of her panty clad pussy.

"Mom," again softly, "Mom?" She stirred. "Do you want some dinner? I've made some stew."

"Oh, hi sweetie." She didn't move to close her legs, or pull her dress down. "In a few minutes."

She stretched, tensing the muscles in her back and legs, which moved even further apart. "Come and lie down with me for a minute."

I stretched out beside her. She smiled and said, "Rub my back for me, baby."

I started to stroke my fingers along her spine between her shoulders, tracing down her bare back to the top of her buttocks.

"Mmmmm, that's lovely. Do that for a while, will you, sweetie?"

I dragged my fingers up and down her back, over to the sides, running along the edge of her dress at the sides of her rib cage, feeling the swell at the side of her breasts, over and over again. After some time, she whispered, "Do my shoulders too."

"They're covered by your dress."

"Oh." She pushed herself up on her arms, fumbled with the chains holding the front together, and fell back to the bed. "Push the dress off my shoulders, sweetheart."

I tried, but they would only go a little way down her arms, and then slipped back. She pushed herself up again, lifting her upper body off the bed, and let the dress fall down her arms, lifting her hands out, and then collapsed again onto the bed. But not before I had a clear view of her beautiful tits hanging down, swaying gently as she worked her hands out of the dress, nipples poking stiffly out.

"There you go."

I massaged her shoulders. After a bit, I got up on my knees so I could reach better, kneading her entire back, pushing her firmly into the bed. Then I moved behind her, straddling her left leg and placing my right knee in between her legs, close to her crotch. Eventually, I pressed my knee firmly against her ass, rubbing it against the bottom of her pussy as I pulled her back towards me. When I brought my hands down her back I pulled on her dress, dragging it up and over her ass, exposing her panty covered cheeks. I moved my hands from her shoulders to the top of her ass, then slid them over the panties covering her cheeks, kneading them as I pushed my knee into her. Soon, I was rocking my knee up in a circular motion when I massaged her cheeks. Mother had appeared to be dozing but when I became this brazen she stirred, as if waking, and I quickly pulled my knee back.

"We better go downstairs and have dinner." She pulled herself up, kneeling on the bed, holding the dress to her bosom. She turned, walking on her knees to the edge, her hair swinging across her shoulders. "Can you get my robe for me, sweetie?"

"Don't you want a nightie?" I asked.

"No, I'll pick something out after dinner. Or, we could do a fashion show after we eat. I have such beautiful lingerie. Would you let me show you some?"

"Sure, Mom."

"Oh, you're so sweet. Let's hurry up and eat."

I brought her robe over to her and stood, holding it up for her to slip her arms into it. She just looked at me, waiting.

"Oh, uh, I can look away if you want, Mom," I said sheepishly, as if I didn't know what I'd been waiting for.

"No, no," she shrugged, "It's no big deal." She stood up, still holding the dress against her breasts, "It's not like you're a stranger."

As she slipped her right hand into the proffered sleeve the upper part of her dress fell away, exposing her breasts. I swung the robe around her back as she pushed her hand into the sleeve, and held it there while she twisted her left hand back into the other sleeve. Her gorgeous tits arched up, never escaping my gaze.

When she got her left arm through the sleeve, she just stood there with her robe hanging open. Finally, she said, "If you going to be such a gentleman, then you have to do it all." When I stood there, dumbly, she said, "Well, push my dress down and belt me up, silly."

I reached into her robe, placed my hands on her bare hips above her dress, and pushed it down, over her hips and down her legs to her feet. When I stood up, I could see that I had pulled the straps of her panties down over her hips as well, so they went out straight sideways instead of up over her hips. The effect was to leave a thin band stretched very low across the top of her pussy mound. Mother just stood there as I stared at her tummy.

"You better fix my panties, and belt me up so we can go eat."

I pulled her straps up over her hips, closed her robe and tightened the belt around her narrow waist. As I finished, she stretched up and kissed me on the lips. "Thanks, tiger," she said, and turned away. I followed her downstairs as best I could with my cock bulging against my jeans.

Dinner involved reheated stew and buttered buns. It was hard for me to concentrate because the belt on Mom's robe had loosened and I was continually treated to tantalizing glimpses of her tits. She seemed oblivious to her display or the effect it was having on me. She chatted gaily away, about what, I have no recollection. She was similarly unaware that her loose robe also exposed a lot of her legs. It was often hard for me to choose what to look at. I'm sure my gaze was moving back and forth, as if watching a tennis match.

As we finished our meal, Mom suddenly announced, "I don't feel like a fashion show, now. Let's go to a movie instead."

What? A movie? I was dying to see her show off her lingerie. A movie? Out in public, with no opportunity to ogle her? No way.

But she was off upstairs, turning to yell back, "I'll be right back. I'll tell your father we're going out."

When she came down, she had on a knee length coat. "Come on, Jay, let's go. Did you pick a movie?"

We got in a car and went to the large theatre complex near our house. Mom picked a chick type movie that was almost empty, having been there for some time, I guess, or else it was just plain bad. She walked right up to the top and sat in the middle of the back row, away from the dozen or so couples strewn throughout the theatre. At least, I wouldn't be seen out with my Mother at a chick flick.

Mom ate popcorn soaked in butter and drank coke through the previews and the first part of the movie. Then she slouched down in her seat and said, "Come on sweetie, you have to at least act like my date. I don't want to be the only woman in here without an arm around her."

I shifted closer and put my arm around her shoulder.

"Can you undo my coat for me? I've got butter on my hands."

I dutifully started to undo the buttons on my Mother's coat. As the buttons came undone, and in flashes of bright parts in the movie, I could see that Mom had decided to give me a lingerie show after all. She was dressed in a negligee. It was navy blue like the dress she'd worn earlier, and like that dress, it was parted all down the front, held together not by chains but lace straps.

"Open it right up for me, sweetie, I'm a little warm."

Not sure exactly what she meant, I continued to undo all the buttons on her coat. Then I just looked at her. She paid me no mind, fixated on the big screen. I tentatively reached in and laid my left hand flat on her tummy, outside the nightie, below her breasts. Mom, forgetting the butter on her hands, pushed the coat closed, hiding my hand. I began moving my hand in a circular path, slowly widening until I was brushing my fingers very low on her tummy. There was no objection from Mom; she just kept watching the movie.

I kissed her hair and the side of her face as I sat facing her. When my hand passed over her lower belly again I slowed its passage and let my fingers trail near the top of her mound. Again, there was no objection, so when I passed under her breasts, I rubbed my hands across their underside. Soon, I was regularly swirling my hand around her torso, almost stopping on her mound, then up and lifting her tits as I rubbed my hands under them, fleetingly cupping each one as I went by.

On one pass over her lower tummy, my hand stopped on her mound, seemingly of its own will. When I realized what I'd done, I readied myself to yank it back at the slightest protest, but there was none. Keeping it still for a while, I slowly started to move up past her navel and then to the bottom of her tits. This time, I cupped her tit in my hand and gently squeezed it, then moved on and repeated the action with the next one. Mom didn't react at all.

Moving down, I again stopped on her mound. This time, I pressed my hand into her, barely exerting any pressure, again ready to retreat at the slightest objection. I pulsed my hand as if I was squeezing a fragile, thin skinned plum. I should have moved on but I couldn't bring myself to let go. I kept my hand there, scared that I was going to ruin everything but unable pull away. My arm tingled with a strange electricity.

Finally, I did pull away, slipping my hand straight up to grasp Mother's left tit. This time, as I cupped and squeezed, I let my fingers and thumb slide off until they pinched her nipple between the material of her nightie. I kept her nipple there, as unable to let go as when my hand had been stuck on her mound. And Mom ignored me. I rolled her nipple between my fingers, and tugged on it. When I moved over to the other tit, I went straight to her nipple. I played with that nipple even longer.

It seemed that I could do what I wanted to, and Mom would just pretend nothing was happening. An interesting game. I decided to test its boundaries. Instead of running my hand down to her pussy, I pulled on one of the lace bows keeping the negligee closed across her breasts. It slipped easily apart, opening to expose the swell between her tits. Mom kept staring intently at the screen.

I grasped the next lace strap, under the weight of her breasts, and pulled that too. It parted even easier than the first and Mom's tits were fully exposed for my eyes to feast upon. I just stared. Mother ignored me, then laughed at something on the screen, and arched her back, pushing her tits up and stretching the nipples taut. I quickly moved my hands down to the final three laces and pulled them all apart, pushing the negligee to the side and exposing the entire front of Mom's body. She continued to watch the movie as if nothing improper was going on.

Biting the bullet, I slowly slipped my hand up her breastbone between her tits, being careful not to touch her bare tits directly, or come in contact with her naked nipple. Nothing. I dragged the tips of my fingers down again, and retraced the same path back up. Then I played my fingers sideways along the upper swell of her breasts, back and forth for several minutes, slowly working my way lower toward her nipples. No reaction. Going for the gusto, I strummed my fingers over her nipples, which were sticking straight up more than half an inch high, like hard little cocks. I could hear her breath catch, but there was no other acknowledgement of my activity.

I pulled her closer to me in my arm, and grasped her tit firmly in my other hand, squeezing her nipple between thumb and forefinger and tugging it out, rolling it between as I did so. Then I closed my hand over her entire tit, squeezed it, and repeated the nipple tugging and squeezing several times in quick succession. She turned her head closer to me and whispered, "I hope you don't mind that I picked such a long chick flick."

"No, Mom, I don't mind," I whispered back as I kissed the top of her head. I took her comment as permission and a hint, so I slowed down and began to stroke her more gently, brushing my hands over her tits, then down over her tummy, and eventually over her panties. She offered no objection to that either. Soon I had pried my hand in between her legs and was sliding it up and down, rubbing her pussy. When the male member of the couple closest to us suddenly stood up, Mother quickly grabbed the sides of her coat and pulled it closed. As he started walking down the stairs away from us, she let it fall to her sides again. I quickly pushed my hand between her legs and began rubbing her vigorously, as if trying to make up for lost rubs. She grasped my wrist, saying nothing, but slowing my hand down.

I pulled my hand up and played with her tits again. This time, when I pushed my hand down I slipped it under her panties and pushed my fingers down to her bare pussy. She grasped my hand again, and pulled it up until my fingers were outside her panties. I slid my hand over her pussy, outside her panties, and cupped her mound firmly. No reaction. A boundary had been set.

I pressed my finger into the crevice between her lips, still outside her panties, and rocked it side to side, working it deeper into the crevice before sliding it gently up and down. Her breathing quickened. I continued this for awhile and when the man returned, Mother surprisly didn't try to cover up but let me play with her cunt the whole time he made his way to his seat despite the way he looked at us. I thought she might have had her eyes closed but she didn't.

As I cupped her pussy, I pressed my fingers into her crevice and my palm against the top of her mound. I massaged her like this, pulsing my hand open and closed. When she started reacting with deeper breaths and a very quiet, mewling sound, I pulled her head closer and turned her face into my shoulder. Her hips were bucking up against my palm, fucking it and the fingers digging into her below. Suddenly, I felt her upper body go slack, as it had earlier in the afternoon, but her pelvis kept jerking against my hand, slowly subsiding until she was still. I turned her head up a little and kissed her for several minutes without any tongue play. Then she pulled away, closed her coat and started to do the buttons up.

"Let's go home, Jay. I'm too tired to finish the movie."

And off me went. Mom showing no awareness of her recent orgasm, and me acutely aware that I desperately needed one.

On the way home, Mom cuddled right up to me. But when I tried to slip my hand under her coat, between her legs, she pulled my arm up and around her shoulders. We drove all the way home like that. As we walked to the house, Mom kept pressed against me but she pulled away when we reached the light in the porch. When we entered, she looked around and called Dad's name. When there was no answer, she turned back to me and lifted her face up, "Give me a kiss goodnight, Jay."

I guess the night was over. I gave her a quick kiss on her lips. She looked both disappointed and concerned. "Are you upset?", she asked.

"I can't give you a proper kiss when you're dressed in an overcoat."

"Oh," she replied. She dropped her hands to her sides, lifted herself toward me on the balls of her feet, pushed her breasts up, and waited. I began to unbutton her coat. When the last button was undone, I spread the coat open and slipped it off her shoulders and down her arms, letting it fall to the floor.

She stood there in her nightie which hadn't been refastened, the silky material hanging off her breasts, held fast only by her stiff nipples. I took her in my arms and kissed her, a long, deep, searing kiss. When we broke, she tried to turn away but I grasped her head and pulled her back for another long kiss. When she tried to break away at the end of that one, I said, "No, Mom. At the end of the night you get to neck with your date," and I pulled her from the hallway into the living room, toward the couch at the far end. When we reached the couch, she stopped me.

"I can't lie down with you while we neck," she said.

"But you did this afternoon," I complained.

"We weren't necking then. You were rubbing my back."

"But, Mom ..."

"No buts. Everything has rules. You have to learn to play by them."

Right. Her rules. Lots of leeway when she wants to get off, but I'm left hanging. Nevertheless, I knew had no choice but to play along if I wanted to keep feeling her up. If I confronted her, I knew it would be game over. I had to find a way to win within her rules, or somehow, get her to change them.

I pulled her to me and kissed her, standing up. I immediately slipped my tongue in and probed her mouth as my hand slid up her side to fondle her tits. I pressed my knee between her legs and started to rub it against her. Adolescent in my urgency, she nonetheless patiently allowed it, reaching up to put both arms around my neck. I slowed down, kissing her more gently. When we broke, she said, "Only for a few more minutes. Then I have to go up and say goodnight to your father."

This again increased my urgency. When we started to kiss again, I pushed my cock into her and jabbed my tongue into her mouth. She relaxed her pelvis, spreading her thighs, as if bequeathing a consolation prize. I rocked myself in her while increasing the intensity of our kiss. Dropping my hands to her ass, I pulled her against my hardon. But when I started to dry hump her, she broke away. "Ok, necking time's over." And off she went.

I'd been too desperate. I'd have to make a plan and learn to act with discipline if I was going to play with my Mother and win. I had to make sure she never saw us as being on opposite sides. Somehow, we had to be on the same team. If I wanted to get into her pants, I had to learn to play smarter.

To be continued ...

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Playing with Mom Ch. 02
byalwayswantedto©

This is a continuation of a previous story in which my Mother and I started to play a game. This game allowed me great liberty, at Mother's whim, but still had firm rules, rules I dearly wanted to skirt. Please read Chapter 1 first.

All characters are 18 or older.

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After that magical afternoon -- fashion show, dinner and a movie -- nothing happened for weeks. I would have thought Mother would have been keen to continue the fashion show she had seemed to enjoy so much. And I found myself wishing to see the sparkle in her eyes that had been so evident that evening. But, it was not to be. Mother returned to shuffling around the house in drab clothing. That is, when she came downstairs. I mostly had our large home to myself. Father stayed in his room, and Mother ventured out almost only to make a meal for Dad, usually asking me to take it to him if I was around.

I tried to engage her, talking about new dresses I had seen women wearing, mentioning lingerie I'd seen in store windows in the hopes that it would remind her of her offer for a more intimate display. All to no avail.

What had happened? I had half expected Mom to start showing off her wardrobe almost before I had finished breakfast the next morning. But she didn't even come downstairs until after lunch, and then only to make some sandwiches for Dad and herself. When she came down for dinner, I suggested renting some chick flicks to watch at home, but she didn't bite.

What could I do to trigger the reappearance of that confident, playful, sexy woman that had emerged so suddenly while reading on the couch? I racked my brain. What had I done that afternoon? Did it have anything to do with me at all? What could she have been thinking? What had she been reading that day? I couldn't remember.

Finally, it came to me. All I had done was pay attention to her whenever she was around. I hadn't been obvious -- indeed, I was trying to be covert, you can't just ogle your Mom -- but I knew she had noticed: by a smile here, an unnecessary pose there, lingering downstairs while I was home.

So why was she suddenly avoiding me? She let me touch her freely but acted as if nothing was going on. On the other hand, she was definitely aware when she set limits and laid down rules. Was she truly depressed, perhaps remorseful over that evening, or did she just like to play hard to get?

And then a further revelation, of sorts, struck me. Mother liked attention, but she was sophisticated. She had been a woman of influence and men had to be careful around her. Perhaps her actions had nothing to do with me, per se, but were steeped in the games she played when she and Dad were king and queen. And I had inadvertently triggered dormant behavior patterns by subtly admiring her charms. Many men leer at a woman's obvious sexual equipment, tits and ass, and lots of women respond to this. But my Mother had become aware of my furtive observations and she had captured me by simply dipping her foot, as if she was fly fishing.

How could I induce her to wield that rod again and reel in her catch? That evening hadn't been sudden. It had come after weeks of my covert attention and shy sexual awareness of her. And she was likely aware of that even sooner than I. Those actions needed to be patiently repeated. Whenever she was around, I should compliment her in some way, but refrain from explicit sexual allusions or reminders of that evening. And if she didn't show, I'd find an excuse to visit her room.

I put my plan into action. Forgetting my desire to circumvent her rules, I was simply desperate to play within them once more. Over the next few days, whenever I saw Mom, I would say something simple, like, 'Oh, hi Mom. Isn't it a great morning?' instead of asking about Dad. I used any excuse to get her to interact with me. I asked her if I could do any chores around the house or the yard, pick up anything from the store, stuff like that. I asked if she'd join me for breakfast, or to sit outside with a coffee in the morning sun.

It took over a week, but she slowly started coming downstairs more often, and staying around longer. Then, one morning she appeared wearing the same plaid housecoat she'd worn on that fateful afternoon. After fixing her coffee she turned to leave, but I convinced her to stay while I made some pancakes, one of the few things I was could cook (other than stew).

While I busied myself about the kitchen, Mother sipped her coffee, and read one of the fashion magazines I had been leaving on the table for the past two weeks. Although tense inside, I tried to appear relaxed. Still, I couldn't help glancing at her while I cooked and she read. She had turned her chair away from the table to make room for her legs, which she had crossed, right leg over left, exposing the underside of her thigh. As she flipped through the magazine, she hummed quietly. After finishing the magazine, she picked another from the stack without glancing up to monitor my progress. Her foot began to dip, the slipper dangling from her toes. Slowly, up and down, her calf muscles tensing prettily, and the underside of her thigh, well ..., even better.

Her slipper fell to the floor with a SLAP! Startled, I froze. I was facing directly at her, away from the stove and the pancakes which were starting to burn. I was caught, again. Her foot had also frozen. It was like time stood still. But she didn't look at me. A brief smile played over her lips, she flipped the page, flexed her toes, and restarted her bare foot on its magnetic dance, up and down, up and down.

I turned back to the stove to save what was left of the dying pancakes. The game had started, I was sure of it. But I didn't know what to do. I wasn't in control. I finished cooking the pancakes, glancing often, though more furtively, at her legs. She seemed to smile faintly each time I looked.

I fetched plates and cutlery. She turned out a little more to make room for me to set the table, never looking away from her magazine. I stole a glance down her housecoat while I fussed about getting the knives and forks properly aligned beside her plate. Before bringing the pancakes, I brought the coffee pot to refill her cup. As I poured, I looked again down her front which seemed to be a little more accommodating to my gaze than just a moment before. Her leg brushed against mine. She continued dipping her foot up and down, lightly grazing her calf against the the front of my leg, just above the knee but she didn't look up. My cock hardened. I stopped pouring her coffee just as it was about to overflow, but I didn't move away. I stayed and she kept brushing against my leg.

Thirty or forty seconds must have gone by. She brushing, me hardening. Then she said, "Oh, look Jay. This is a cute outfit, isn't it?" She placed the magazine on the table, swinging her leg way from me, pointing to a picture of a woman in a conservative wool dress.

I bent to look at the picture, my leg making contact with the outside of her thigh. I couldn't help myself, I pressed against it. "Oh, yeah, Mom. That is a nice one."

"Mmmm," she replied.

"Don't you have one like that?" I ventured, forgetting my caution about reminders.

"Yes, I do. But not quite the same." She eyed the dress critically. "I'm not sure which I like better."

"Why don't you try it on after breakfast, Mom, and see?" I was really going out on a limb. If I lost the past couple of weeks of painstaking effort, I'd strangle myself with my bare hands.

"That's an excellent idea, Jay," she answered, tossing the magazine on the table. "But now I'm ready for some of those famous pancakes."

We ate our breakfast, Mother chatting away as if reborn. When she finished, she stood and left the kitchen. There was no mention of trying on the dress. She reappeared in the kitchen doorway just as I started clearing the table.

"Jay, be a dear and make some of those for your father, will you?"

"Yes, Mom," I replied, not turning to look at her.

"And can you make some more coffee?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Thanks, dear. Oh, and be sure to bring that magazine with you when you come up so we can compare the dresses, alright sweetheart?"

"Oh, yeah, Mom. I'll bring it right up."

"Don't rush, sweetie. Have a chat with your father so you can let me know how he's been doing lately. Then bring the coffee while it's still hot. Turning to leave, she made an odd comment, "You can't rush a woman when she's getting dressed, sweetie."

I put on a fresh pot of coffee and rushed some pancakes up to my father. He took the tray, but wasn't any more inclined to talk than I, so I left him to it and rushed downstairs to get the coffee. As I was coming up the stairs, I realized that I couldn't rush in. She had said to take my time, so I sat down at the top of the stairs, and let my boner grow as my thoughts seeped under the closed door of my Mom's room.

Was she naked? What do you wear under a wool dress? Not just little panties, I thought disappointedly, it would be too itchy. The wool dress in the picture had a high neckline and came down almost to the knee. Christ! I'd forgotten the magazine. I leapt up to fetch it and just about broke my cock. Limping back up the stairs with the magazine I made my way to her room. Knocking quietly, I was suddenly aware that my Dad was in the next room and I was about to ogle his wife.

I opened the door, slowly, calling out, "Mom, mom?"

Poking my head in, she was nowhere in sight. Then I heard her voice before she sauntered into the room from the adjoining bathroom, "Gosh, Jay, I'm not quite ready. I just realized I haven't shaved my legs."

They had looked fine an hour ago but she paused to display them, lifting the hem of her wool dress a couple of inches, and turning her legs back and forth for me to see. They seemed to gleam with some kind of lotion now. She looked up, "Oh, well, you're here now," she said, turning, "Do me up, please."

The zipper on the back of her dress was completely undone, but I wasn't treated to her bare back. She had some kind of slip on under the dress. I grasped the zipper, my hands shaking nonetheless. After a bit of fumbling, I zipped her up.

"You didn't bring the coffee."

Oh, Jeez, I'd left the coffee at the top of the stairs. "I'll go get it."

"Nevermind, nevermind," she said, walking over to her bed. Raising her foot up to the edge of the mattress, she said, "Do you think I should put on nylons? I used to be able to get away without them but my legs are getting older now, just like me."

"Oh, no, Mom. Don't put on nylons. Your legs look just great. They're all shiny and really nice to look at."

"You really think so?" She turned her raised leg about, then switched, lifting the left one up, and pulling her dress half way up her thigh as she did so. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes, Mom," I replied, walking close to her so I could see between her exposed thighs. "Absolutely."

"Oh, ok, then," she said, dropping her dress just as I reached her side. She walked away about five feet, turned, cocked her hip, and said, "Well, what do you think?"

"Fantastic," I blurted out, "Really great!"

"No, I mean, which dress do you think works better?" nodding at the magazine I'd dropped on the chair by her door.

"Oh." I quickly retrieved the magazine and messed about trying to find the picture. Mom grabbed it, and quickly found the picture.

"No, I think my green one is closer," she said, walking away into her closet. Leaving the door open with her back to me, she began rustling through the dresses hanging there. Over her shoulder, she said, "Come and unzip me."

I didn't stumble but I certainly reached her back in record time. I pulled the zipper down, and stood there while she rummaged about, my hand still holding the zipper, resting in the small of her back.

"Here it is." She shrugged her shoulders, the dress fell away to her waist. Holding the new one up in front of her, she said, "Push my dress off, Jay."

I grasped the dress, sliding it over her hips and down her sides, taking the opportunity to slide my hand all the way down her legs, although I didn't need to. As I stood, she stepped into the new dress, pulling it up over her hips. "Help me," she said.

I helped her slip her arms through the sleeves, pulled it tight over her shoulders, and zipped it up. She turned and walked back into her room, with me right behind her. A quick glance at the mirror showed that this dress was a little more revealing in the front, exposing her slip. "Unzip me," she commanded, and I obeyed.

She efficiently dropped the dress without my help and then proceeded to take her slip off, pushing the straps over her shoulders and then the slip down, exposing her unblemished back and a lacy bra. "Push it the rest of the way," she commanded.

The slip clung to her flesh, requiring firmer pressure to push it past her hips and down her legs. I dragged my fingertips as far around her front as I could reasonably get away with. Fortunately, Mother paid no notice to my indiscretion, or the fact that my hands molded unnecessarily around her legs all the way down to her ankles. She stepped back into the dress as I lifted my eyes to the back of her panties, discerning the crack of her ass just as the green wool hid it from my view.

When I started to zip her up again, she shrugged, "No, it's too itchy."

With a wiggle and a shrug, she let the dress fall to the floor. In just her bra and panties, she walked over to her dresser, as casually as if she was going to get some butter from the fridge. Her body was a magnet to my eyes, each motion exquisite. I gawked as she fished through the drawers, her lovely pear-shaped ass cheeks spilling out around the tantalizing blue panties. To think that only a moment ago I wouldn't have believed my cock could get harder.

She searched her drawers for a long time. Then, without looking, she said, "Run downstairs and get our CD while I find another slip."

I didn't move. I heard her voice but failed to register her meaning right away.

"Jay. Run along now."

I slowly walked sideways and then backed up to the door, not wanting to leave this vision. Once through the door, I bolted down the stairs and frantically tried to find the CD we had danced to weeks ago, without success. Finally, I pressed eject and there it was. I rushed back upstairs and burst into Mom's bedroom.

Mom turned, laughing at my eager entry, "I didn't know you were so interested in fashion, Jay. Be a dear and close the door."

She was now wearing the next wool dress. I could only hope that one would also come off soon. She pirouetted in the dress. Then, stopping to face me, she pulled her feet together and stood up on her toes, arching her back and thrusting her breasts up toward me.

"What do you think? Do you like it?"

The dress hugged her figure and was sufficiently low in front to hint at the perfect tits hidden beneath. What could I say?

"I love it, on you, Mom."

"Oh, you're just saying that," she countered.

"No, Mom. It really looks good on you. Especially when you move. It totally shows your figure, but it's still classy."

Mom smiled, a big, appreciative smile. I was definitely learning things here that would help me later in life.

"I think you'll like the last one best. Something tells me you will."

She laughed, the hearty, throaty sound of a woman having fun. What a feeling, to be able to make a woman feel like that. She spun around and disappeared into her closet. I followed. As I approached the door, the dress was already falling to the floor.

"No, Jay. You can't watch me put this one on. Wait over by the door."

I complied. A moment later she reappeared, wearing a green wool dress, not nearly as daring as the navy blue number she'd worn weeks earlier, but very appealing in its own way. She was right, I liked this one best of the ones she'd worn this morning. Low in front, it buttoned all the way down to the hem at mid thigh. The green wool perfectly offset her eyes, which positively sparkled, perhaps in response to her very appreciative audience.

"You like it, don't you?" It was more a statement than a question. I nodded, running my eyes up and down her body. "I thought so," she continued, "I know my big boy."

Yes, I think she did. And for my part, I was learning how little I knew my Mom.

"I think this dress is perfect for the movies, don't you?"

Well, I was thrilled at the prospect of going to the movies, but I was really hoping for a repeat of the coat and nightie costume. She was beautiful in this dress, but not particularly accessible.

"Yes, Mom. It's perfect."

"Well, let's go then."

"To a movie, now? It isn't even lunchtime."

Why was I trying to talk her out of this?

"We're going out of town. We'll just make it if we leave now. Bring the CD so we can listen to it in the car."

And we were off. The drive was uneventful. Mom allowed me an adequate view of her legs, but nothing really improper. She spent most of the drive leaning against her door but with her knees lifted on the seat toward me. She wasn't wearing her seatbelt and declined to put it on. A couple of times, when particular songs started, the sexier numbers, she slid over and kissed me on the side of my mouth before returning to her door. By the time we reached the theatre, my whole body was tingling, she had me so worked up.

I was treated to a nice long look between her legs as I opened her door and helped her out of the car. She slipped on a light rain coat as we walked to the theatre, but left it open. I was surprised to see that the same chick flick we'd watched before was playing here, and yes, there was a matinee. She knew! She'd planned this. My cock pushed against my jeans and my balls throbbed. I was in a daze, paying for the tickets, walking with Mom to the theater, her arm slipped through mine.

She led the way to the back row. The movie had already started but, as before, there were fewer than a dozen people. Mom sat down and motioned me to her left, slouching in her seat, pulling her coat open but leaving it on. I sat down, and immediately put my arm around her. She concentrated on the screen and I, not wanting to be too eager, did the same. A minute later, she cleared her throat, and did so again a few seconds later.

I turned to her, and kissed her cheek. She faced me and we kissed. I slipped my tongue into her mouth for a nice long one. When we broke off, she turned back to watch the movie, "Mmmm, that's better," she said.

I kissed her hair, her cheek, the side of her eye, and tentatively put my hand on her tummy over her dress. "Mmmm," was her only response.

I fingered the buttons at the top of her dress. "Mmmmm."

I started to undo the dress, slowly, because the buttons were tough. As the dress began to part, I noticed that it had a silky feel inside, its interior lining. I also noticed that she was not wearing a bra. Her tits were free.

That's why she wouldn't let me watch. My mother was always several steps ahead of me. I undid the buttons down to her navel but couldn't wait any longer to touch her breasts. I ran my hands over their beautifully curved underside, gently lifting each one and giving it a little squeeze. I moved back and forth between her breasts for several minutes before finally choosing one nipple to tease, tugging and rolling it between my fingers. I visited the other one and thereafter repeatedly swapped nipples, pulling and tugging. Mom was quietly "mmmming" and "oohhhing" just loud enough for me to hear. My own ragged breathing, however, was quite noticeable.

I moved my hand down between her legs, pushing between her thighs, and started to drag my hand up towards her pussy. She grasped my hand, stopping its progress.

"Don't bunch my dress, honey."

She let go and I quickly returned to her buttons, undoing a few more, enough to bare her tummy. I slid my over her belly from side to side, caressing, dipping my finger in to swirl gently around her navel. I swept up and over the slight of her tummy to slide down the slope toward her golden treasure but her dress stopped me. I retreated and undid the rest of her buttons.

She was wearing panties, but they were very small. Just a patch covering her mound and not much than cords rising over her hips to hold them up. I could smell her. Spreading the dress to the side, I quickly returned to her mound, placing my palm over it possessively, letting my fingers trace down the crevice between her lips to stretch toward the other little hole hidden beneath.

She let out a long, satisfied, "Mmmmmm, mmmmmmmm."

I gently squeezed her pussy, pulsing it in my palm, pressing my fingers firmly into her, pulling my hand up and then pushing it down, again and again, sliding through her damp canyon, her soaked panties becoming part of her skin. I loved the sound of her repressed, ragged breath and the ever throatier sound of her "mmmmmm's."

I fell toward her, my head on her breasts. I sucked a nipple into my mouth. I could feel her react, arching her tit into my mouth. No rebuke, the expectation of which would have stopped me if I'd first thought to do this. I sucked her nipple, rolling it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. She moaned. I sucked her tit hard into my mouth, squeezing it, and started rubbing her pussy vigorously.

"Uh, uh, uh," over and over. I grabbed her other tit in my hand and mauled it, squeezing and tugging her nipple roughly. "Uhh, unhhh, unnhhh, unhghhh." Music to my ears.

Suddenly her legs clenched my hand like a vice, trapping it against her pussy as her hips convulsed. Unlike before, her upper body didn't suddenly relax. Instead, she threw her arms around me, gripping me tight, her head coming up next to mine in an intense hug. Then she shuddered and dropped back into her seat.

After a moment, she drew her coat to her and stood up. "Let's go home, sweetheart. I think I've seen this movie before."

We threaded our way through the aisle, to open stares as we left. As we walked through the exit, a movie attendant entered, directing a disapproving glare as we passed. My mother's head was held high, although I could only manage a sheepish grin as I chased after her.

In the car, Mom tossed her coat in the back. By the time I got in, she had done up the middle buttons of her dress, leaving a few undone in the skirt portion. She had left the top open almost to her navel, her tits jostling intriguingly behind the partly open material that gaped when she moved.

"Don't speed, honey."

"I won't Mom."

"Take your time. If you drive carefully, and watch the road, I have a little treat in mind for you when we get home."

"What treat?"

"You'll see. If you're good."

"Ok, Mom."

"But first, will you rub my back for me, like you did last time?"

"Oh, yeah, Mom, absolutely."

Driving home was a nightmare. What treat? My imagination ran wild, broken only with thoughts about the forthcoming back rubbing. I prayed she wouldn't change her mind. And of course, I stole glances at her body, so openly displayed for my pleasure.

I didn't watch the road that much but she didn't admonish me for appreciating her charms. I took care when other cars were near, and she seemed to reward me by pulling her dress apart just after they passed, and lifting her hem so it was almost to her panties.

As we neared home, she did all of her buttons up, returning to a woman demurely dressed in a conservative but elegant wool dress. As we pulled onto our street, she reached up into her dress, pulled her hand back out, and threw her wet panties onto the floor of the car.

"I think those are done. But you'll be a good boy when you're rubbing my back, won't you Jay. You know the rules. I don't need to put others on, do I?"

"No, Mom. I know the rules."

When we pulled up to the house, Mom didn't wait for me. As she got out, she said, "Bring the CD. It will relax me while you're rubbing my back."

I was several minutes behind her. I stopped to exchange my jeans for pajama bottoms. If she was already on the bed, I thought, she wouldn't notice. I was in luck. She was laying on her tummy, her dress high on the back of her thighs. Her beautiful legs were splayed apart with the right knee lifted higher, opening her pussy to my view. I stood for a moment, relishing this vision. Mother was such an erotic woman.

I crawled up between her legs. "Mom, mom? I can't rub your back in this dress, it opens in the front."

"I know, sweetie. I was going to let you open it, but I couldn't wait."

Was that my treat? To undo her dress?

"Did you close the door?"

"Yes."

"Did you lock it?"

"Yes," my voice hoarse.

"Good boy. I undid the dress. You can pull it off. But be good now."

I pulled the dress away from under her on each side. She helped me get her arms out of the sleeves, twisting sideways and up, her tits arching into view. I took the opportunity to cup and squeeze them again, tugging the nipples as well, each tit in turn.

"You're supposed to be rubbing my back, remember?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Good. Go put the music on, it will help me rest, even nap if you're gentle."

I put the CD on, thinking ahead to set it to repeat. I paused again to drink her in. Totally naked on her bed, legs still spread, bare pussy in plain sight, hair strewn down her shoulders over unblemished skin. Her cheeks rising unfettered, swelling up from the small of her back to slope down again in pear-shaped mounds to the back of her thighs. Gorgeous.

I crawled up and placed my knee right below her pussy. Sliding my hands over her cheeks up and around her little waist, I grasped her and pulled her ass toward me, firmly pressing her cunt onto my right knee. I traced my fingers lightly up her spine and back down again. Without pulling on her, just grazing my fingers over the top of her cheeks, I pressed my knee into her several times, moving it in a little circular motion.

"Jay."

"I'm just rubbing your back, Mom."

"Ok. Ok." And she settled herself further into the bed.

As the soft music drifted through the room I traced my fingers slowly and gently over her body. But I also gently and slowly ground my knee into her, feeling her pussy part, and loving the way her upper thighs tried to grasp the sides of my knee as I pressed it in. She began her little "mmmm's" and "ohhh's" and I started to hold my knee against her longer and more forefully, actually lifting her ass up. Soon I had her legs splayed over my thigh, keeping her ass lifted right off the bed, and I used my hands on her hips to move her back and forth, rubbing her pussy up and down my leg.

When she started making the throatier sounds I recognized as the precursor to her orgasm, I pulled my knee away. Her cunt was wide open, pulsing and she was rasping ragged gasps into the mattress. I leaned forward, grasping a handful of her hair in my hand, but not roughly.

"I need to touch it, Mom. I need to touch it. That's my treat, isn't?"

"Yesss, yessss. But just a little bit," she rasped.

I don't know to this day what she actually had in mind for a treat, but that's want I wanted and I think, at that moment, she needed it too. It was what I needed. I leaned back, keeping my soft grip on her hair. Her head lifted off the mattress slightly. I pressed my index finger and my long middle finger tightly together and pushed them near her pussy. Very slightly, just grazing her lips, I touched her bare cunt for the first time in my life. I pulled away, then pushed back for another fleeting dip. I did this several more times, then I left the tips of my fingers in contact with her slippery lips. After a few seconds, I started to move them up and down, just barely inside. A few minutes later, I began moving them from side to side as well. Mom was moaning softly, continuously. I pushed my fingers into her. A long, slow stroke all the way in, then slowly out, and back, and out, and back in.

Soon I had three fingers pushing in and out, twisting them clockwise on the way in, counter-clockwise on the way out. I moved my hand from her hair to grasp the underside of her belly as I pushed my fingers in. She was so wet the bed was soaked. I tried four fingers. Slowly, I pushed in until my thumb made contact, reaching up toward her anus. I wiggled my thumb and my hand, now fully ensconced in her cunt.

I kept pulling out and pushing back in, stopping to wiggle my hand inside her. Her upper thighs started to vibrate uncontrollably. I continued wiggling, twiddling her clit with my other hand at the same time. I kept my hand inside, shaking it. She couldn't stop her uncontrolled leg vibration and was moaning constantly. I put my mouth down and spit on her little hole, reached up and pressed my gob in with my thumb. I pulled her up onto her knees, then pulled my hand out and started working the whole thing back and forth into her in a slow grinding motion. As her moans melded into a constant "unnnggghhhh" I suddenly pushed my hand in firmly and really started wriggling it around. Her legs shuddered wildly, she started squirting all over me, thrusting back. I yanked my hand right out and watched as her legs continued to shake and her hips convulsed in uncontrollable fuck motions as she came. God she was hot. I'd never seen a woman so horny. I think she would have fucked anything at that moment.

I don't know why I didn't plunge my cock inside her. I guess was too carried away with fisting her. I'd never done anything like it with anyone. Slowly, her movements stopped. She just stayed there on her knees, her head hanging low, her hair falling onto the bed. I reached forward and spread her ass apart, staring at her cunt gaping back at me, her juice running in rivulets down her legs. I pushed her forward and she collapsed on the bed. I grabbed her discarded dress and draped it over her.

"Rest, Mom. You'll feel better after a nap."

What a day. We'd spent most of it with her firmly in control until the very end when it became my game. But I realized that it had to be hers most of the time, or mine wouldn't come at all. And I could never act like I was in control. Or could I?

To be continued ...

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Playing with Mom Ch. 03
byalwayswantedto©

This is a continuation of a previous story in which my Mother and I started to play a game. This game allowed me great liberty, at Mother's whim, but still had firm rules, rules I dearly wanted to skirt. Please read Chapter 1 and 2. All characters are 18 or older.

*

Somehow, I had to get into her. She would tease me and let me play with her until she came. Last time, she got carried away and broke her unspoken rule, letting me touch her bare pussy, even put my fingers inside her. I wanted to break all the rules. I wanted to have her whenever I wanted, and I wanted her to let me take her, not trick her into it.

How could I find a way to make her want me that badly? She liked being appreciated, liked having an audience like she used to have. Playing into that had got me this far, but I sensed that I needed something more to get further. She had mentioned that Dad enjoyed displaying her in sexy dresses, and she liked to flirt with the younger executives torn between desire for her and fear of him.

I think Dad's proximity was crucial for both stimulus and safety. I don't think she'd ever cheated on Dad, but she may have been tempted. Could I set the stage to trigger such a memory to prompt her to cross the line with me? She liked to dress in sexy dresses, to dance, and to play in public. That had worked so far. Without a better plan, I'd go back and take it from there again.

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I didn't give her the opportunity to slide back into her depressed routine. As soon as I saw her the next day, I reminded her of how good she had looked in her wool dresses.

"You know, Mom, you looked so good yesterday. We should go shopping and get you some new dresses."

"Oh, I have so many dresses already that I'll never wear again. Your Dad won't go anywhere now," she pined.

"You and I can go out, Mom. Anyway, I like to see you in your dresses right here at home. We could work our way through your closet, keep the ones we like, and give the rest to charity. C'mon, let's go shopping for new outfits. What do you think?"

"Well, I guess that could be fun."

"Definitely. Let's go."

"Jay, you don't want to go shopping with your old mom for house dresses."

"Not house dresses. We're looking for dresses for a good looking woman." I pulled on her hand, dragging her out of the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs.

"Come on. Go upstairs and get dressed."

I stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched her. Although she started slowly, her pace picked up and she was moving briskly by the time she reached the top.

Fifteen minutes later, she came down in a white blouse and a loose, pleated skirt, with a tentative smile on her face. "You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely. It's going to be a great day."

Once in the malls, Mom really got into it. She clearly loved to shop, and was quite particular. We looked at many, many dresses in lots of stores. As she tried them on, she would come out to show me. I took my time, admiring her body of course, and took the full license shopping gave me to run my eyes all over her. I knew she was aware that I was appreciating her figure, but she let me have my fun too. As the day went on, I was sure she was striking poses to increase my enjoyment.

She had only bought one dress when, as we were leaving, we passed by a store with slinky dresses oriented to a younger crowd. Hesitant to enter, I cajoled her until she relented and we went in. The young woman seemed to mistake our relationship as one between a younger man with a somewhat older woman, not a mother son thing. I called mom by her first name to facilitate the illusion.

"They're got some real cute little numbers here, Lorraine."

Mom gave me a funny look. "I don't think these dresses suit me, I'm too old for them."

"Nonsense," I retorted, "They're made for a body like yours," intentionally drawing attention to her figure in more graphic terms. "Aren't they?", I queried the saleswoman.

"Oh, totally, you should really try some on," she effused, turning to Mom to release her pitch.

Mom tried a few on. They were all very sexy and I was pleased with every one she tried. The saleswoman could tell I was interested in Mom, so how could she mistake her as my mother, especially the way Mom primped for me? As she modeled the dresses, I touched her often, turning her by pressing my hands against the sides of her rib cage, sliding my hands along her waist and out the swell of her hips as she moved away toward the mirror. Mom seemed to revel in it, cocking her hips as she studied herself in the mirror, turning her legs to see her behind, glancing up to watch me studying her, ruffling her dress up her sides, lifting the hem higher on her thighs, and so on.

She finally picked out two dresses to buy. As she walked them over to the counter, the saleswoman suggested she get new underwear as well. "You can't wear regular bra and panties with these dresses, they'd show," she explained, picking up a tiny bit of silk that was supposed to be panties, and a bra as well.

As we left, I suggested we look for a new pair of shoes as well.

"Ok, but then we have lunch," she said, I'm starved and I want to go home."

"When we get home, let's put on your new dress and dance while we listen to our CD," I said, trying to set up the afternoon for more games. "But first let's get something new for you to dangle on your toes."

Mom shot me a real curious look at that remark, but smiled and said, "Whatever you say, Jay".

In the shoe store, Mom kept her pleated skirt closed demurely around her knees as the salesman, a year or two younger than me, fitted the first of several pairs of open-toed shoes we'd picked out. I could tell he was looking at her legs when he thought no one would notice. How could he help it? Mom had great legs.

I decided to explore her affinity for flirting in public. Sitting next to her, I casually dropped my hand in her lap as he turned to pick up the second pair of shoes for her to try. Mom tensed but she didn't push my hand away. Leaning forward, I looked down her legs at the shoes, her feet resting in between the teenager's legs.

"I like these ones," I remarked, pulling her skirt back as I leaned forward, exposing about three inches of thigh before lifting my hand away. "What do you think?" I said to the clerk, forcing him to look up at me.

"Oh, yes, they're very nice," he replied, but he couldn't stop his eyes straying to her newly exposed thighs.

When he turned to get the third pair of shoes, I slipped my hand between her knees and gently pulled her legs apart a few inches. When he turned back, the clerk's eyes reached between her parted legs. Mom blushed, but didn't say a word. She kept her eyes on the shoes, not looking at me or the clerk.

As Mom rose to walk on the new shoes, I pointed to a pair of high boots and asked the salesman to fetch a pair of them to try. When Mom sat down, I pushed her skirt higher again, and parted her legs. She didn't acknowledge my action in any way except to turn her eyes away. The clerk returned just as I was lifting my hand away from her knee. He immediately noticed the more revealing position of her legs and kept his eyes between her thighs as he knelt down, taking her foot in his hand and feeding it into the boot.

He seemed to sense that it was OK for him to look, and look he did. As he pushed the boot up, her leg lifted from the chair seat, opening her legs even wider. From his position, he had to be able to see right up to her panties. Mom kept her eyes averted as he started to fasten the leggings. When he finished, he started with the next boot.

"Take your time," I said, "We're in no hurry. We really enjoy shopping."

I turned to Mom. "Sit back and close your eyes, Mom."

She visibly tensed as I uttered the last word. The clerk faltered, then continued pushing the boot up her leg, leading with his fingers sliding up her calf. Again, Mom's thigh lifted off the chair as he pushed the boot up. He seemed to push her leg up farther, opening her legs wider this time. As he started to fasten the leggings, much more slowly, I reached down to grasp the hem of Mom's skirt. He watched as I pulled it back to the top of her thighs, exposing her yellow panties. He never looked at me.

The poor guy was having trouble breathing and his fingers were fumbling with the snaps on the boot. I noticed that he had positioned Mom's foot so that it was resting on his thighs as he knelt before her. As he finished closing the last snap, Mom opened her eyes and turned to look directly at him. She moved her foot directly onto his crotch and gently twisted her toe on his noticeable bulge.

"Let me up, so I can try them," she said. She walked up and down the store a couple of times, then made her way straight to the counter. "I'll take these," she said, "and I'll wear them. My son can take them off when we get home. He likes to do little things like that for me."

I basked in the hero worship visible in the clerk's eyes as we left the store.

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At lunch, Mom requested a booth at the rear of the restaurant and went to the ladies before joining me. She slid in, pushing me to the middle of the large U-shaped booth. As she read the large menu, she spoke quietly without turning to face me, "Aren't you going to pull my skirt up?"

Taken aback, I didn't move.

"Don't be obvious about it."

Discretely, I moved my hand down behind the menu and under the table, grasped her skirt and pulled it back, away from her knees.

"You liked that little game you were playing back there. Didn't you?"

I didn't answer.

"Are you trying to be like your father?"

I was caught. "I don't know."

"Yes you do. You want to be like your father, don't you?"

"I guess. If you say so."

"Look at my menu, like we're discussing it." I did.

"Look down." I did.

"What do you see?"

"Your open legs, your thighs."

She reached down and pulled her skirt back even more.

"Now what do you see?"

She was bare. I could see her pussy covered with just a hint of light brown hair.

"I don't know."

"Yes you do. You know what it is."

"Your pussy."

"Who's pussy?"

"Yours. Lorraine's pussy," I replied, thinking she wanted to continue the game I'd started in the shoe store.

"No. Not Lorraine's. Who's pussy can you see?"

"My Mom's. I'm looking at my Mom's pussy."

"That's right. Your Mom's pussy. Your Dad couldn't play games like that. You're not your Dad. You have to play your own games, Jay, and I can tell by that little number you did back there, calling me Mom while you were playing with my skirt in front of that boy, that you have a knack for it."

Just then, the waitress arrived. We ordered and had little discussion until our meal was done. Mom didn't cover herself up. She left her skirt up, her legs exposed, but the way we were seated only I could see.

After the plates were cleared away and we were finishing our coffees, Mom said, "Lean in to me and laugh like we're sharing a joke." I did as she instructed.

"Put your hand down and touch me," she whispered, "Quickly."

I pushed my left hand down between her thighs and cupped her pussy.

"Do you like that?", she asked.

"Yes," I gasped, stunned that she not only let me touch her, but told me to do it. I had thought this was against the rules.

"Well, you're not going to get into it. This is all I'll let you do, and if you expose us like that again, I won't let you do that either. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Maybe I'll let your little salesman friend have it. Would you like that?"

"No."

"Then keep our little games to ourselves. Let's go home now."

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We left the restaurant, but as we passed by the shoe store, Mom suddenly spoke out, "Oh, I forgot to try on that cute little green pair," and she hurried into the store.

When he saw her, the salesman almost tripped trying to greet us. Mom pointed to some green shoes and sat down. She waited until he knelt in front of her with a pair her size. I sat next to her again.

"You know I like to take my time when I'm trying on shoes, don't you?", she queried our very excited sales assistant.

"That's no problem. We aim to please. Take all the time you want."

"Take my boot off slowly, then." As he started, she moved her hands to her blouse and slowly loosened two buttons until you could see the swell of her tits. "Are you good to your Mother?" she asked.

"Yes, I try to be."

"That's good. You should be. A mother will do a lot for her son, especially if he's a good boy."

He glanced at me, then back to her. Was she speaking to me, through him?

"Is your mother pretty?"

"Yes."

"Do you look at her when she isn't looking?"

Caught off guard by this direct query, he paused, flushing red in the face.

"You do, don't you?"

"Yes," barely audible.

"Would you like her to be like this with you?" As she said this, she dropped both hands to her sides and slowly pulled her skirt back but keeping her legs pressed tightly together. "You'd like it, wouldn't you, if she played little games like I do with Jay?"

"Yes. I would," he confessed, his voice hoarse. He slid the boot down her leg, leaving his left hand cupping her calf just below her knee, returning to hold her foot with the other after dropping the boot on the floor.

"She might, but you have to let her know you want it. If you don't take chances, you won't get what you want." She paused. "Put my foot where you want it."

A shocked look on his face, he nevertheless pulled her foot onto his crotch. "Watch the store, Jay," Mom whispered to me as she started rubbing her foot on his jeans. He was gasping, staring at her exposed but closed legs. She laughed softly. "If you want to look, you have to go for it. Nobody's going to do everything for you."

Haltingly, he leaned forward, tentatively placing his hands on her knees, then slowly spread them apart. He gasped as her bare pussy came into view. She started rubbing his cock vigorously. He responded by hunching into it.

"That's right, baby. This could be your mommy's. She'll do it if she loves you, and she's lonely. You just have to bring her around to it." She leaned forward as he started to come in his pants. "She might even let you kiss it."

He lost it, suddenly jerking wildly, fucking her foot, holding it down tightly against his cock, not caring that, if seen, he'd likely lose his job.

When he was done, Mom picked her boot up and pulled it on herself. She continued, "I don't want these shoes right now but I'd like to try on a few pairs at home. Can you do that?"

"Absolutely, no problem, absolutely," he gasped out, still recovering his breath.

"Great. Jay will give you a call when I'm ready. Would you like some advice to help you with your mother?"

"Yeah. That would be great."

"Be nice to her. Be thoughtful. Go out of your way to do extra things for her but don't mention it, she'll know. Compliment her and carefully, ... carefully ... let her know you're aware of her, as a woman. Just a few glances at first, then some lingering looks at her body, and her legs. Don't gawk. If she doesn't seem mad, start touching her. Not anywhere sexual, on her arm, give her hugs and little kisses, that sort of thing. If she gets tense and her pulse quickens but she doesn't object strongly, you're on your way. What's your mom's name, and yours?"

"My Mom's name is Dhelia, and I'm Greg."

"OK. Remember, take your time." She turned to me, "Come on Jay, let's go home, now," she said, huskily.

We left.

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As we drove, she instructed me to take some sandwiches up to Dad when we got home and visit with him. She wanted to rest, and would join me downstairs later.

"I want you to contact that boy and help him if he needs it. Make sure he takes his time. If he rushes things, he may not get another chance. Anyway, he should learn to savor the good things in life."

Was she sending me a message as well?

Then she commented on how much she liked her new boots. "These boots hold a memory for us now, don't they, Jay?"

"Yes, Mom, they certainly do," I laughed.

"Always remember, if you take your time, you can make a memory. Memories last, they're worth the effort."

Mom went straight up to her room when we arrived. I dutifully made some sandwiches and took them up for Dad. While he ate, I hung around trying to talk to him but he was distracted, returning one word answers while continuing to read his book. I tried hard, for Mom's sake, but gave up after an hour and went to my own room. After a while, I changed into my PJ's and went downstairs, hoping to find Mom.

She wasn't anywhere to be seen. I poured myself a glass of wine, got comfortable on the couch, and started reading. Tiring after just a little while, I put my book down, and reached for my wine glass. There was a note written in my mother's hand leaning against the base of the lamp.

"Jay. Put on our CD when you're ready. I'll come down when I hear it. Love, Mom."

I put the CD on loud enough to be heard upstairs. Then I topped up my glass and settled in to wait for her. Twenty minutes later I had already refilled my glass but my cock hadn't subsided since reading the note. In between songs, I heard her voice, "Jay, turn the music down." Then, "And start it over."

I did as she asked. By the time I had reseated myself, she was halfway down the stairs. She was wearing the sexy blue, sleeveless dress made of a very flimsy material that almost let me see her body through the billowing fabric. My eyes were drawn to the boots that almost reached her knees. The black leather accentuated the supple strength of her thighs above, pulling my attention to the valley at the juncture of her legs. As my eyes traveled up her torso, I noticed her unrestrained breasts jostling as she walked slowly toward me. She stopped in front of me.

"I want to dance." I rose to take her in my arms.

"Give me a sip of your wine first, and don't spill it on my new dress." I tipped the glass to her lips, pulling back a little for her first swallow, then tipped it again. When she signaled me to back off again, I tipped it further into her instead. She tilted her head back and gulped the whole glass down. As I pulled the glass away from her lips she swirled her tongue around her lips. She pressed her hips forward against my cock until it was firmly lodged in her belly, "Been waiting long?" She laughed throatily, and raised her arms around my neck.

I tossed the glass onto the couch and steered her out into the room in a slow dance, shoving my prick into her as I worked her backward, pulling her waist in against me. I stopped and kissed her, forcing my tongue into her, exploring her mouth. I hunched my cock against her, rubbing it up and down against the mound I could feel between the thin material of her dress and my PJ's.

"Oh, you naughty boy," she exclaimed, breathlessly, when the kiss ended. But the glint in her eye wasn't an angry one. I tried to renew our kiss but she bent further backward to avoid my lips, pushing her belly harder against my stiff cock. "I'm going to have to put my foot down with you, young man," she admonished.

"Go ahead, Mom, put your foot on me," I countered, still trying to kiss her as she swayed to avoid me.

"Is that what you want, Jay? You want to walk a mile in the shoe salesman's shoes?", she laughed again. "Alright, I can't dance in these boots anyway. Pour me some more wine and take these boots off for me.

She pushed my arms away, walked past me and sat down on the couch. I grabbed some more wine and refilled the glass I had tossed on the couch. Then I positioned myself on my knees in front of her, lifting a booted leg, and starting undoing the snaps.

"Slowly," she commanded. "Slowly, Greg."

"What, Mom?", I replied, looking up with a confused look on my face.

"I'm Dhelia," she stated emphatically.

"Oh," I said, not quite comprehending, but realizing we were heading into uncharted waters. I finished undoing the snaps on her boot.

"Take it off," she said, quietly. I did, pulling it slowly down her leg and over her bare foot, dropping it to the floor beside me. I lifted her other boot and rested it against my thigh as I started undoing its snaps.

"Slowly, Greg, slowly," she repeated as she placed her bare foot on my other thigh. As I took my time undoing another snap, she moved her foot higher on my thigh and inward, her foot sliding gently over my cock. I could feel the tenderness of her instep even through the flannel of my pajama bottoms.

"You're bigger than you were this afternoon. That deserves a reward, doesn't it?"

As I looked up to wholeheartedly agree with her, she barked, "Don't look at me!" Then, more softly, "Undo the rest of the snaps, Greg." Her foot pressed against my cock, moving up and down, her toes folding around the head, massaging it against my leg. I undid the rest of the snaps more quickly. She didn't object. When I was done, I pulled the boot slowly down her leg, letting it fall to the floor too.

I pulled her other foot up and laid it next to my cock on the other thigh. She immediately moved in to squeeze my cock between her feet, giving it a dual massage. This forced her legs to part a few inches. I stared between her parted legs as she worked my prick. I leaned forward and placed my hands on her knees, prying them further apart. When her legs were restricted by her dress, I slid my hands under her thighs and shoved it back to her ass, moved my hands to the top of her thighs again and pushed it up to her hips, exposing the patch of hair at the top of her mound.

Lowering my hands to her knees, I pushed them wide apart and up, which lifted her feet from my cock, but I desperately wanted to see her. "Oh, Mom, Dhelia, you're beautiful," I cried.

Mom slumped back into the couch, closing her eyes, "Yes, Dhelia is beautiful," she whispered.

"She sure is. You're so beautiful, Dhelia," I whispered back, slipping my hands under her knees, pushing her thighs higher, against her breasts, spreading her lewdly before me. I lowered my head to kiss inside her thighs, moving from one leg to the other, kissing, licking, nibbling.

Mom's breath quickened. "Oh, Greg, Greeggg, I don't know. Stop, stop."

"But, Dhelia," I quickly replied, "It's what we always do."

"We do?", came the unsure response.

"Yes. You know we do. It's your favorite part, Dhelia, you know you love it."

I dipped my head again and continued nibbling, licking and kissing her thigh. "My favorite," she murmured.

I kept kissing her legs, slowly pushing my face further in, pressing her legs wider, opening her for better access. She started purring softly. As I reached the outside of her pussy, I began licking her, swirling my tongue around. As her purring lengthened, I started to drag my tongue across her pussy lips ever so often. Eventually, I pushed my tongue slightly between her lips and dragged its tip right up and onto her clit. She grasped the back of my head, holding me against her. I started licking her pussy earnestly, lapping, moving up to swirl my tongue around her clit, sucking it, then moving down to lap her again.

Suddenly, I stiffened my tongue as hard as I could and stabbed it into her cunt. She went rigid, "Oh, God, oh, unnghhh, unnghhh," as I repeatedly stabbed my tongue into her, moving my head back and forth. I let go of one knee, letting her drop it onto my shoulder. I moved my hand under her and pushed the tips of two fingers into her cunt. Slowly, while flicking my tongue on her clit, I pushed my fingers into her. When they were in as far as they would go, I began twisting them around. I moved my hand against her, faster and faster, until she came with a loud groan, her legs tensing strongly, gripping my head, lifting herself off the couch. I kept my fingers firmly plugged inside her, not removing them until she stopped her convulsive contractions.

I laid her length ways on the couch. She kept her eyes closed, perhaps afraid to break the illusion. I scrambled up above her, placing my knees on either side of her head. "Keep your eyes closed, Dhelia," I commanded her now. I pushed my PJ's down my hips, freeing my rock hard cock. Painfully, I pushed it down toward her mouth. "Bad mommy, Dhelia, you didn't finish me with your feet. Now you have to take it in your mouth."

I pushed my cock against her mouth, shoving in a little before she could clamp her lips together. She tried to avoid it, moving her head to the side, but I held her head between my knees, pushing in a little further. "Stop it, Dhelia. You didn't finish me. You know you have to do it this way, like always." I pushed my cock right in, withdrew, and then started to slowly fuck her mouth. She let me do it. She didn't suck, or help in any way, but she let me fuck her mouth. But that was enough. What a fantastic feeling, sliding my cock in her mouth. What an incredible sight, my cock moving in and out of her beautiful flushed face, her eyes closed, her hair in wild disarray. She was gorgeous.

I didn't last long. When I came, she swallowed and starting sucking for the first time. None spilled. No spunk came out of her mouth at all, no dribbles, nothing. When I was finished, I hurriedly got up and left, retreating to my room. I, too, was afraid to break the illusion. I wanted us to be able to play Dhelia and Greg again, and having to face ourselves afterwards might ruin it.

As I stepped into the shower, I could hardly wait to get out and meet Mom, and hopefully Dhelia, again. It wasn't even dinner time.

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Time dragged through the rest of Greg's shift. It seemed like an eternity until 5pm, not because he had to work with cum drying in his pants, but because he could hardly wait to get home to see his Mom.

He kept remembering that incredibly sexy woman, his cock stirring each time her image flickered in his mind. He could hardly pay attention to customers the rest of that afternoon. He made few sales, trying to get rid of people as fast as he could so he could turn his full attention to the events of the afternoon. She was that guy's mother! Thinking of it reminded him of his own mother, at least five years younger, and then he really got hard.

She'd told him to take his time, to be subtle, but he could hardly wait to get home. He wanted to get started and he knew exactly how to do it. He stuffed several pairs of shoes and a pair of high boots into his knapsack. He'd pick up a couple of chick flicks on the way home, and pizza, so his Mom didn't have to make dinner. His Dad was a cop working night patrol. He wouldn't be home until late, and he knew Mom would stay up late, sipping Vodka, waiting for him. Instead of retreating to his room, as he usually did, he'd stay up with her and get her to try on shoes, and see what happened.

"Hi honey, I hope you're not hungry, I haven't started dinner yet," his Mom called out when she heard him come in the front door, just after six. She was sitting in front of the TV, watching a sitcom, already in her house coat, her floppy slippers stretched out on the coffee table, sipping from her glass. Her dark brown, shoulder length hair was in disarray. Normally, Greg would have been disappointed in her but tonight, he just thought, perfect.

"No sweat, I brought pizza, Mom," he announced as he walked in an plopped two large pizzas, her favorites, onto the table.

"Really? That's great, I'm so tired, I really don't feel like cooking. What's the occasion?" she asked, as she opened the top box and pulled out a slice of pizza.

"You are, Mom. On the way home, I was thinking about you and just thought you probably deserve a treat."

"Really? That's so thoughtful. C'mere, give your old mom a kiss." She held her arms up to him.

Greg leaned down into his Mom's arms, giving her a kiss on her cheek, then planted one at the base of her neck. Dhelia kept hugging him, so he planted another kiss on her neck. As he pulled away, he said, "I love you, Mom."

"You're such a good kid. I'm the luckiest Mom in the world. Grab a beer from the fridge and come eat this pizza with me."

Greg sat near his mom as they ate, his leg pressed against hers. They watched TV and chatted during the commercials. When the pizza was gone, Greg didn't move away. He stayed close to his mom. When he got another beer, he sat right next to her again.

"You're being awfully nice to your mom. What are you up to?"

"Nothing, Mom. I just realized today how lucky I am to have you, that's all."

"Oh? What happened?"

"Nothing. Just this guy and his Mom came into the store, and they were so different."

"How? What do you mean?"

"Well, they were just so nice together. I mean, she was his mom and everything, but they were really close. They held hands, he had his arm around her, and even kissed her once in a while. It was a little weird, but after they left I thought, 'Why not?' They didn't do anything wrong. They just obviously loved each other. And then I thought, I love my mom, but I never show it, and I really want to change that." Greg put his arm around his mom and squeezed her to him, giving her a kiss on her cheek as he did so.

"Well, lucky me. I guess I have some guy and his mom to thank for this pizza and all these hugs. You've got a lot of hugs to make up for, mister," she laughed.

This was going well, Greg thought. "Oh, Mom, I forgot. I picked up some movies." Greg opened his knapsack and pulled out the DVDs. "Oh, yeah, and I brought some shoes home for you to try on later."

He put a DVD into the player and turned it on. Before he sat down, he turned the lights lower, then settled himself next to his mom again, putting his arm around her as he did so. Dhelia snuggled up to her son. They stayed like that through the first movie. Greg wasn't sure how to take things further, and Dhelia was just enjoying the closeness of her son, of anyone for that matter.

When the movie ended, Dhelia said, "Let me up, I've got business to attend to."

"But there's another movie, Mom."

"I'll be back. Pour me another drink, sweetie."

"Well, I'm going to get into my PJ's too," Greg replied, getting up to follow her upstairs. For some reason, Dhelia paused at the bathroom door. Greg grasped her shoulders from behind, leaned in, and kissed the base of her neck again.

"Mmmmm," Dhelia murmured, "You're being so nice to me tonight."

"I'm going to be nice to you all the time from now on, Mom."

"I hope so, son. I like it."

"I like you," he replied, kissed her neck again, and went off to his room to change.

In the bathroom, Dhelia did her business and then brushed her teeth. She felt strange. She had an unsettled feeling that she couldn't interpret. She shrugged and turned to leave, then stopped and turned back to look at herself in the mirror. Absently, she picked up a brush and started to straighten her hair. Pausing to review her visage, she picked up some light pink lipstick, and put it on. Squeezing her lips together, she pouted, regarding herself once more.

Not bad she thought. She was still pretty. She pulled her bathrobe apart. She needed to find time to work out again, she thought. She drew her robe about her, but immediately pulled it open again. She turned to look at herself in the full length mirror on the back of the door. A petite woman with small breasts, a narrow waist, and nice legs looked back at her. Without thinking about it, or knowing why, she dropped the robe, removed her bra and slid her panties down her legs and off, tossing them both toward the laundry hamper. She looked at her naked body without any expression on her face, then stooped down to retrieve her robe. Putting it back on, she cinched it tight around her waist and went downstairs.

Greg was sitting on the couch, leaving little room for her to squeeze in. He had poured her a much larger drink, which he passed to her before she sat down. She took a sip. It was much stronger too. She didn't say anything about the drink.

"Move over buster," she said as she sat down, partly on his right leg.

"No way."

She squeezed herself between the arm of the couch and his leg, rubbing the back of her thigh across his as she sat down. She turned to him as she settled back, arching and baring her neck, "Give me a kiss before we start the movie."

Greg gladly complied with her request. He put is arm around her again, and locked his lips on her neck, planting a long, sucking kiss on her. She laughed, a little nervously, as he finished. "Well, I don't think that was very parental."

"I'm too old for parenting now, Mom. This is the new us. You should have seen those people, they were so beautiful together."

"Well, we'll see. Let's just see how its goes. It's kinda fun so far."

She settled herself in, facing the TV, as he started the next movie.

After a long while, she tried to push his legs over to give herself more room. He didn't budge, so she lifted her left leg and draped it over his, causing her robe to open, exposing her legs to mid thigh. He scrunched lower, then asked her to kick her slippers off because they were blocking his view. She did, baring her feet. As she did, her left thigh slid up and he pressed his leg further under, forcing her ass against him. He slipped his arm down from her shoulder to reach around her waist, pulling her more firmly onto his thigh. They continued to watch the movie like that for some time, pausing only for her to sip her drink.

After a while, Dhelia said, "Greg, I really need to stretch out. Change places with me."

Greg paused the movie and slid into her seat as she stood up. She lay down on her side, stretching her feet to the opposite end, lying across his lap, her head resting on the arm of the couch. He started to play with her hair, gently twirling it in his fingers. His other hand rested on her hip, his fingers draping over the front. After a while, he looked down to find her eyes closed.

"Hey," he said softly, "don't fall asleep on me."

Her eyes fluttered open, "I won't," she whispered, "I'm just enjoying myself. This is so relaxing, Greg. Thanks, honey." She closed her eyes again.

"No problem, Mom," he replied, patting her hip and sliding it up and down. After a minute, her eyes still closed, he started to slowly stroke his hand up and down the side of her hip. He noticed that the belt of her robe had loosened. He pulled his hand on her hip back, dragging the material with him. This parted her robe even more. He peered down at her. Looking into the gap in her robe he could see most of her right tit, pressed against the couch. It was small, but the nipple was long, and stiff. Suddenly, he realized that he was gripping her hip. He loosened his fingers.

"Mmmmm, cuddle me, Greg." He slipped his hand down to her flat belly and pulled her tighter against him. At the same time, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, then moved his lips down to kiss her neck again, his favorite spot. He kept kissing her. She didn't stop him, just responded with another, "Mmmmmm."

"That's it, Mom, relax. We can watch the rest of the movie tomorrow. It's Saturday."

"Mmmmm. Do you think they cuddle like this?"

"Yes, and I think they even neck with each other. Just the casual way that he touched her, I can tell that he touches her all the time when they're alone."

"Really?"

"Yes. He put his arm around her waist and kissed her on her neck," Greg exaggerated, "and I caught him pulling his hand from between her knees once," he said truthfully.

"Really?"

"Yes, like this." Greg moved his hand down from her tummy, along her front, to her knees. Once there, he slipped it inside her robe, between her legs. "I think he was stroking her legs when I wasn't looking." Greg started to slide his hand slowly up and down her legs, caressing her thighs. "Like this," he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear, then up to kiss her cheek as he continued to stroke her legs.

Dhelia, just lay there with her eyes closed, enjoying her son stroking her legs and kissing her face. It felt so good, but wrong too. But the other mom did it, and Greg said they were so happy. He clearly wanted her to be like that other mom, how could she disappoint him? Anyway, she was feeling great.

Greg turned his mother's face up just a little so that he was kissing the corner of her mouth instead of her cheek. He lengthened his hand strokes until he was nearing her pussy. Tentatively, he pushed his tongue into the corner of her mouth. "I think they neck because they're so close to each other," he suggested, moving fast despite Lorraine's advice.

Dhelia was getting very excited. His hand between her thighs was near her pussy, which was getting wet. She turned to kiss him before she had to deal with his hand touching her. As she twisted around to face him, her robe pulled completely off her front. She tugged the right side to cover herself. She pulled herself up a bit to kiss her son, her right arm snaking up around his neck.

As his mother kissed him, Greg's hand slid under her robe, down her bare back and up the swell of her hip to rest on her ass. With his right arm, he held her up to his mouth, pressing her breasts against him. He gripped her cheek possessively in his left. She pulled away.

"Greg, I don't think you should touch me like that."

"They do, Mom. I'm sure of it."

"I can't. I don't think I can do that." She got up, her robe falling completely open, her small tits with her fantastic nipples, long and stiff, dangling enticingly in his face for a brief moment. She ran up the stairs to her room.

Greg was very disappointed, but when he thought about it, he'd gone further in the first night than he'd expected to go in the first week. He grinned to himself. No matter what, he thought, life was definitely more interesting, and likely to get better yet.

In her room, Dhelia was having second thoughts on her hasty retreat. She was relieved that she hadn't succumbed to her physical desire but fearful that she now didn't measure up to that other Mom, the one Greg was holding up as an ideal. Moments later, jealousy won out. She opened her bedroom door to call Greg just as he was passing by on his way to his own room.

"Oh, honey? Did you say you had some shoes for me to try on?"

"Yes, Mom. In my bag. Do you want to try them on now?" hope evident in his eyes and voice.

"No, not tonight. I'm too tired now. But how about tomorrow, sweetheart?"

"OK, Mom." Greg's face brightened considerably, and Dhelia felt much better as she closed her door.

The next day Dhelia was up early, as usual, to make her breakfast and Don's dinner. She was confused about how to feel about the previous evening. She was thinking of ways to divert Greg, to retain the new attentions that thrilled her but to keep it on a more platonic level.

Don came in and sat down at the kitchen table with the morning paper. She set a cup of coffee down in front of him and went to the fridge to get eggs for breakfast. When she pulled the juice out of the fridge, she noticed a handwritten note propped up behind the container, "I love you, Mom. I love being close to you."

Her breath caught. She could feel a flush rise within her. Glancing quickly at Don, immersed in the paper, she smiled and placed the note in the pocket of her housedress. Retrieving a couple of glasses from the cupboard, she spied another note in a glass with a single rose, "For the best Mom a guy could ever have."

Dhelia's face went red and a warm wave flushed through her body, tingling in her fingers, toes and breasts. Quickly, she closed the cubboard and continued making breakfast. When she opened the cupboard under the sink to throw away the broken egg shells, she found yet another note taped to the side of the garbage pail with a smiley face drawn on it. "I can hardly wait for tonight." 


Greg got up right after he heard his father come upstairs to go to bed. His mom was in the kitchen, clearing up the dishes from her breakfast and his Dad's dinner.

"Good morning, son," she greeted him. "What have you got planned for the day?"

"Oh, just hanging around until tonight," he responded suggestively. "Did you have coffee with Dad?"

"No, I thought I'd wait for you. He was in a hurry to get to bed this morning."

Greg poured two cups of coffee, handed one to her and pulled her by the arm to the living room. She protested, wanting to finish the dishes, but he insisted she finish watching the movie from last night, while trying on the shoes he'd brought home. She relented and sat on the couch, sipping coffee, watching him retrieve the shoes from his bag, noticing that he was dressed only in his pajama bottoms.

Greg knelt at her feet with a pair of shoes in his hand. He picked up her foot, took her slipper off, and slipped the shoe on, then the other. He asked her to walk around in them to see how they felt. She said they looked great but wanted to just sit and drink her coffee. He insisted, "Mom, you need to see how they feel, and I need to make sure they make your legs look even better. Come on, get up," he cried, pulling her to her feet.

Dhelia walked around the living room. Greg suggested poses to highlight her legs. "Is this what that other mom and her son do?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Ok," she said, sitting down, "Let's try on the next pair."

Greg pulled the shoes off, slowly. "We need to limber up your legs for the next pair," he said as he started to rub her calves. They both knew this was just an excuse for him to feel her legs. After several minutes, Greg slipped the second pair of shoes on. Dhelia walked around in the shoes, striking poses, even placing her foot on the table beside Greg so he could see up her loose housedress, wanting her son to be thinking about her, not some other mother.

When she sat down, she wiggled her feet until the shoes dropped and asked Greg to give her legs a real good rub, because that pair hadn't felt right. She lay back and closed her eyes to make it easier for him to enjoy himself, and her. 'How much for a rose?', she thought.

Greg rubbed her legs for some time before he noticed she had closed her eyes. When he did, he lifted her foot to rest it on his thigh, then moved his hands above her knees, to stroke her leg along her thigh, back and forth, slowly moving higher. Dhelia didn't make any sounds of encouragement, but she didn't object either. Greg lifted her other foot and placed it on his other thigh, then started rubbing that leg as well. Soon, he was reaching right to the top of her leg. On one draw back, he let go of her leg, and pushed her dress so that it fell back to her hips, exposing her legs completely.

Her eyes opened, "Greg, your Dad is upstairs."

Greg resumed stroking her legs. "I know," he replied, "He's sleeping."

"Yes, he's sleeping," Dhelia repeated, not sure what to do in the face of his audacity and continued rubbing of her legs.

"Close your eyes, Mom," Greg suggested firmly, continuing to stroke her legs. Dhelia closed her eyes, not having thought of any other action, and let him play with her.

After a while, Greg said, "Mom, I want to kiss you like they do." He leaned in to her, holding her feet in to the couch, folding her knees and pushing them out wide. He leaned far over her, and kissed her. Little kisses at first, but then he started necking with her. His torso was pressing against the backs of her thighs. At some point, she didn't know when, she realized that his tongue was in her mouth. She put her arms around his head and held him, running her fingers through his hair. He could really kiss, she thought. He was making her wet again.

The thought jolted her! She was wet, but not because he was kissing her. He had his hand on her pussy! Christ. He'd been touching her pussy, and she hadn't even noticed! She tried to push him off.

"No, Greg. No!" She pushed hard, pushing him away with her feet.

His face was flushed red, he was breathing in gasps.

"Mom, I need to feel close to you."

He pushed back in, reached down and slid his hand under her, jamming it between her pussy and the couch.

"No, your father, he could wake up, don't Greg. Stop."

He started rubbing his hand back and forth under her pussy.

"No, Greg. Wait! Tonight, after he's gone to work. Wait for tonight," she cried desperately, trying to buy time, to get him to stop.

Greg stopped, but he left his hand under her pussy. "Tonight?", he asked.

"Yes, wait until we're alone. Please, Greg."

"OK, Mom. Tonight."

He stretched his thumb up to rest it in the crevice between her pussy lips. He pressed it in. "Tonight," he repeated. He moved his thumb from side to side, "Tonight," he said again.

"Yes," Dhelia replied, "tonight." Greg let her get up, and she went upstairs to the bathroom.

Dhelia was shocked. What had happened in the last half hour? She loved her son. She didn't want to lose him, especially as things fell apart between her and Don. She knew he'd probably been to an after hours party with his shift mates and the young women that worked in the bars. It wasn't anything new, he'd been doing it for years. But that didn't mean it was OK to fool around on him. Especially with her son. She'd have to put Greg in his place. Put a stop to this nonsense.

She took off her wet panties and threw them into the hamper. She was now naked under her housedress. With fresh resolve, she strode downstairs. She would explain that, although she loved him, there were just certain ways that a mother and son had to behave.

She found Greg in the kitchen, cleaning up the breakfast dishes. He'd cleaned the counters and when she entered, he handed her another cup of coffee, fixed the way she liked it. Her heart melted.

"Hey, Mom. What should we do today?"

"Greg, I ... uh, I ..."

"How about a walk around the lake?"

"Well, ... uh ..., that would be nice. But we need to talk."

"Sure, Mom." He walked up to her, while she still held her coffee. Putting his arms on her shoulders, he drew her closer and kissed her. Right on the mouth. When he finished, he took the coffee and set it on the table. He took her in his arms again and kissed her full on her mouth again. Several minutes later, they were necking furiously, tongues trading places in each others mouths, bodies straining together.

Suddenly, he stopped kissing her, pulling back to look in her eyes. He reached down, placing his right hand at the hem of her dress. Slowly, he lifted his hand, scraping the inside of her thighs as he brought his hand up, gazing steadily at her, intensely. Dhelia couldn't stop him. She just stood there panting until his hand cupped her pussy once more. He leaned in to her.

"I can't wait until tonight." He slid his tongue into her mouth, then pushed his thumb into her cunt.

Dhelia circled her arms around his neck and pulled herself in to him. She couldn't stop her loins from humping against his hand. When he broke the kiss, her hips were squirreling into him, she had lost control.

"Yeah, Mom. That's it. Fuck it!"

Dhelia could hardly hear him. Her head was ringing. It was so ridiculous, so lewd, but she couldn't help herself.

Greg walked her back and pressed her against the fridge. He lifted her left leg up and out, reached down into his pajamas, freed his cock, dipped down, and slid it up to her, the head pressing against her entrance.

"I'm going to fuck you in the kitchen while he's upstairs," he rasped into her ear. He pushed his cock into her, shoving until he was buried in her to the hilt. He picked her other leg up, holding her jammed against the fridge with his cock. He grasped the top of the fridge door and started shoving his cock back and forth into her, ramming her, slamming into her. She hung on to him, bouncing up on each thrust, her ass pressing into the fridge. Within minutes he spurt his load into her.

He stood, exhausted, keeping her pressed against the fridge. She still clung to him, her legs wrapped around his waist. Eventually, her legs dropped and he let her go. Shell shocked, she didn't know where to go. She couldn't go upstairs with her husband. She across the kitchen, picked up her coffee and started sipping it.

Greg, stuffing his flaccid cock back in his pajamas, turned to her and asked, "Do you still want to watch a movie and try on those boots tonight?"

"Yes," she replied in a quiet voice.

"Do you want to go for a walk around the lake now?"

"No," quietly again.

"Do you want me to fuck you again?"

A long pause followed. She continued to sip her coffee.

"Do you ..." Her answer cut him off.

"After my coffee."

Dhelia sipped her coffee, slowly, until it was gone. No one spoke. Greg waited patiently, not once trying to hurry her. He just looked at her, her wild hair and flushed face. His cock stirred and was tenting his pajamas by the time she'd finished her coffee.

Dhelia had looked down at this cock when she first saw it begin to swell. She kept her eyes on it, a little smile on her face. Seeing her looking made him harder.

She put her coffee cup down on the counter, completely empty. She started walking to the basement stairs. She simply said, "I'll be in the guest room."

Greg followed. By the time he reached the stairs, he could hardly walk, his cock was so hard.

To be continued ...


Playing with Mom Ch. 04
byalwayswantedto©

This is a continuation of a previous story in which my Mother and I played a game allowing me great liberty but only at my her whim. Please read Chapter 1 through 3. All characters are 18 or older.

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"Greg?"

"Yes." Greg usually didn't answer his cell when he was working, but it was a really slow day in the mall, even for a Monday.

"It's Jay."

"Jay?" Greg responded uncertainly after a pause.

"Yeah. You sold some boots to my mother last weekend."

"Oh, Jay! Yeah, how are you? How's your mom?"

"She's fine," Jay laughed. I bet you want to know how she is, he thought, you horny little prick. Then, just to put Greg in his place, "She loved the boots. She modeled them for me for quite a while, even after she took her dress off." There, let him chew on the image of her parading around in just her panties and those boots. "Yeah, she's really fine!"

Greg's throat went dry as a little movie of Lorraine strutting around on her long legs played vividly in his head. Hoarsely, he choked out, "Man, you're so lucky to have a mom like that. She is SO hot." Catching himself, he blurted, "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud."

"It's OK. She is hot, and I am lucky. You can be too. That's what I'm calling about. My Mom wants to know how you're making out with your mom? Dhelia, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Dhelia. Umm, OK I guess. It's going kinda slow."

"Slow is good. Did she let you do anything?" Jay asked, intrigued.

"Well she tried on some shoes and let me stroke her legs, but that's about it," Greg lied. He was afraid to let Jay know how far his mom had let him go. He didn't want to admit to ignoring Lorraine's advice because he wanted to see her again on the pretext of needing more.

"Well, that's a good start. Get her used to that, and press for more once she's comfortable," Jay said, repeating what he remembered of his mom's advice.

Greg's head flooded with the sight of his mom 'getting comfortable' on the guest bed Sunday morning after he'd fucked her against the fridge. When he'd entered the room she was on all fours on the guest bed, her head twisted around to watch him as he clambered up on the bed, his engorged prick swaying between his legs. As he crouched over her she dropped her head to the pillow, spreading her arms straight out to each side, tilting her ass up at him. He grasped the headboard to steady himself, then, feet on either side of her knees, he plunged his cock into her pussy triggering a loud grunt, "Unnngghhhh." He worked his cock deep into her and then stayed still. After a minute he started rocking into her, twisting his cock as he thrust forward. Then he pulled up and dropped back into her, pausing before doing it again, and again. Within minutes he was banging down, thrusting hard, working her forward until her back was almost vertical, parallel to the headboard. Her legs were stretched out, her feet and toes arching to dig into the mattress, her cries muffled in the pillows. His cock gouged her relentlessly. He lost control.

"Sure. I'll keep going slowly, like your Mom said. Do you think she could help me out with a few more pointers?"

Jay wasn't really keen on Greg seeing his mom again. "I'll mention it to her," he replied evasively. "Well, I'd better go. I've got to study for an exam tonight. Good luck." Jay hung up.

Greg looked at his recent call list and noted that Jay had called from home, not a cell phone. Accessing the internet, he quickly did a reverse number search to find his home address, but it wasn't listed. Damn. He had no way to contact Jay's mom, unless he phoned. He didn't want to call and get Jay, but he had an exam that night. If he called after work, he should get Lorraine, or maybe her husband, who wouldn't recognize his voice anyway. It's too soon, he thought, but it was the only time he knew Jay wouldn't be there. An hour later, Greg dialed.

"Hello."

Greg didn't respond, the soft, yet assertive voice making him suddenly nervous.

"Hello?"

"Uh, Mrs. Harrison?"

"Yes?"

"It's ... uh ... Greg."

"Greg?"

"Uh ... the shoe boy." Greg's face screwed up. The shoe, boy? "You know, you tried some shoes on the other day and said you were interested," he paused uncertainly, "uh, in trying some more on ... at home, like, a private showing," he ended lamely.

Lorraine smiled, "A private showing?" she asked.

"I don't ... you know, I mean, ... I could bring some shoes by after work for you to try on."

"Oh, I SEE," Lorraine answered, smiling again as she teasingly stressed the last word, "A private SHOWING," she continued, stressing the last word again, highlighting the double entendre. "Well," she continued, "Jay's at an exam tonight and I was going to spend time preparing something special for him."

"Oh, yeah, I know. He called to see how I was doing and said I should talk you again because I'm stuck," Greg lied again.

"Did he, now?"

"Yes," Greg answered, quickly going on, "He said you would know what to do."

"He did, did he?"

"Yes," pausing, "You could surprise him with some nice new boots, he likes those."

"You think he likes me to cover my legs?" Lorraine teased.

"No, no, you have beautiful legs. I just meant ..."

"I'm just kidding." Lorraine interrupted his floundering. "Come over. I'll give you some advice and you can let me know what to wear to make my legs look better."

"Where ..."

"29 Covington Place," she said, cutting him off again. She hung up.

Well. Jay was sending this boy her way, was he? She'd have to talk to him about that. She hadn't really been planning something for Jay tonight but now she had something fun to do. As she thought about it, she began to relish the thought of teasing this young man, and maybe teaching Jay a lesson as well.

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Greg drove up the curved tree lined driveway and parked his old Honda in front of the Harrison's three bay garage. Shouldering his footwear packed gym bag as he approached the large Tudor house, his confidence, shaken after his conversation with Mrs. Harrison, dwindled further still. The door opened and there she stood, elegant even though wearing just a plain, dark blue dress that fell demurely to her knees.

"Come in," she invited. "I wanted to catch you before you rang," she explained, "I didn't want you to disturb my husband."

"Your husband?" Greg asked. Crap! He wanted to be alone with her.

"Yes," she replied, and noting his disappointment, added "he doesn't come downstairs anymore. Much," she added, to keep his tension high, though it wasn't needed from the looks of him. "Come in." She looked at his bag as he passed. Closing the door, she said, "Just take those into the living room. We can have some wine and a chat first."

She directed him to a chair in the far corner of the room. Two glasses of red wine bracketed an open bottle on the table between a reclining chair and a couch that stretched perpendicularly along the adjacent wall. He set his bag down and sat in the chair and she settled in at the end of the couch near his chair, picked up a glass of wine and leaned forward.

"Have some, it's very good wine," she said, raising her glass toward him. Clicking his glass, she said with an encouraging smile, "Let's get straight to it, shall we? Tell me about your Mom."

Caught off guard by her direct approach, Greg stumbled in his reply. Lorraine cut him off.

"What's she like? How are you making out with her? Or are you?" she laughed.

"Well, no," Greg replied. "I was hoping you'd help me out there."

"You'll need to let me know a bit about her first. What does she look like?" She wasn't sure why but Lorraine was suddenly very curious to know what this woman looked like. Why did this young man want so badly to have sex with his mother? Why was Jay attracted to her?

"She's not like you. She's short, barely over five feet tall. She's isn't fat but she's not skinny, either. She has nice ... uh .... breasts. Not too big but you can tell they're there." Trying not to glance at Lorraine's similarly small tits, Greg's gaze slid down to her long legs. "Her legs are nice, not long and beautiful like yours, but they're nice."

Lorraine smiled encouragingly again, pleased that he'd found a way to compliment her while describing his own mother, the object of his desires. "Go on," she said, sipping her wine to cover her smile.

"Well, that's about it," Greg finished.

"What color are her eyes? What's her hair like? Is she quiet? Does she have a soft voice?"

"She has brown hair and eyes." Greg started to warm up a little. "She's very quiet but her eyes sparkle and she livens up when she talks to me and her voice is soft, but not when she talking to my Dad."

"That's good, Greg. It shows that your mother really likes you. Do you talk to her much?" Lorraine leaned back into the couch, crossing her left leg over her right, allowing the split along the side of her dress to show her thigh. She was pleased again when Greg's eyes strayed down and lingered there as he answered.

"Not usually, but I have since you told me to," Greg replied, hoping to win approval by showing how he had followed her advice. "I brought pizza home so she didn't have to cook and some shoes for her to try on," he offered proudly, "but we didn't get to them right away. We watched a movie together instead."

"That's very good." Lorraine stretched her left leg out and let her shoe dangle from her foot. She slowly bounced her leg up and down, sipping her wine as she watched Greg focus on the movement of her foot.

"Did you touch her?" she asked in a quiet, conspirational voice.

"Not really," Greg lied. "I put my arm around her while we watched the movie and afterward, when she tried on the shoes, I rubbed her legs. I told her I needed to get some circulation going for her feet to fit properly."

"Was she bothered by that?"

"No."

"Did she seem to enjoy it?"

"Yeah. I did it every time she tried a pair on. Longer each time. She didn't seem to mind."

Lorraine crossed her leg again, letting the right rest over her left knee. Greg watched her dangling foot intently.

"Did you put her feet on your legs, like you did with me?" Lorraine's voice lowered and softened into a husky tone.

"Yes."

"Were you hard?" she asked, her voice getting huskier.

"Yes."

"Did she touch you, like I did?"

"No," Greg lied again.

"Why didn't you make her? You could have bumped her foot over, by accident, to see if she left it there."

Greg didn't reply, not knowing what to say next. Lorraine mistook his confusion for a need for instruction on how to get further with his mother.

"Come on, I'll show you. Let's do a little role playing here. Pretend I'm your mom. Come on get a pair of shoes."

Greg stumbled out of his chair, quickly grabbed a pair of loafers from his bag, and knelt down in front of Lorraine. She uncrossed her legs and let them rest on his thighs. She looked down at the shoes. "Slip them on my feet. Slowly. Remember, you don't want to handle her feet so much as caress them. Use your touch to send little signals, not obvious to her, but to her body."

Greg softened his touch on Lorraine's foot, sliding his fingers along her toes over the top of her foot, digging into her instep and tracing up over her ankle, slowly pinching down her tendon and sliding down and under her heel back to her instep and finally scratching along to the bottom of her toes. He repeated this route many times.

"That's good. That's good," Lorraine sighed, closing her eyes. "You need to give her body time to react naturally, and it will. She'll get excited before she realizes it. Little horny whispers that her mind can't quite hear." Lorraine could feel herself getting excited.

Greg continued to caress her feet. He hadn't moved to slip a shoe on. He let his fingers stray higher above her ankle, half way up her calf. "You have such pretty feet, Lorraine."

Lorraine didn't open her eyes when she replied, "I'm not Lorraine, remember, I'm Dhelia."

Greg was surprised she remembered his Mom's name. "Right. Dhelia." He let his fingers run to the top of her calves into the hollow behind her knees, rubbing there before stroking down and scratching the bottom of her feet by her instep. He made this his new route.

Lorraine edged her feet closer together, toward his crotch. "You haven't tried to bump me onto you," she whispered.

"It's too soon for Dhelia," Greg replied. "I need to make her relax."

He continued his ministrations, not unhappy that Lorraine kept her feet closer to him. He was feeling more confident now, now that she was letting him touch her.

After a minute, he said, "You can relax better if you lean back more."

Lorraine complied, pushing herself back into the couch. As she leveraged her feet against his thighs to raise and shove herself back, Greg took the opportunity to slide her dress higher up her legs. Lorraine didn't notice that her skirt was half way up her thighs when she settled back in, but she was aware that her feet were now higher up his legs and that she could feel his smallish cock between the soles of her feet.

"Good boy. You're learning." She tried not to reveal her disappointment with his unimposing stature.

"Shhhh, Mom. Just lie back and let me give your legs a treat."

Although Lorraine didn't outwardly react to his calling her 'Mom', she registered it mentally and an involuntary wave of tingles spread through her body. Together with the wine, they pushed the tensions of the day away.

Greg caressed her knees at the top of his strokes and then moved on to her thighs. Soon he was stroking her thighs with one hand and when he met the crease at the top where her legs joined her hips, he slid along it into the depths inbetween. He shifted closer, lifting and opening her legs to make room. Lorraine was only dimly aware of this move, being sidetracked by the sensations produced by his gentle fingers. He really did have a nice touch. She knew he wanted to look at her and she wanted to reward him, to let him have a good look. She parted her thighs even more.

Greg felt her open her legs wider in response to his nudges. He lifted her leg higher and began lightly scratching along the bottom of her thighs, the fleshy part that hung down in such a sexy curve. He exerted more pressure on the backstroke, pulling her skin toward him, away from her pussy.

God this feels good, Lorraine thought. She didn't want it to stop.

The phone rang. Startled, they both glanced at the hand receiver laying facing up on the table behind the wine bottle, the call display clearly showing that Jay was calling. Greg picked it up and handed to her.

Taking the phone, Lorraine spoke in a throaty voice, "Hi honey. Are you going into your exam?" She paused to listen. "So you're ready, then?" She paused again, closing her eyes, listening to her son while this boy caressed her legs. She heard only the murmur of Jay's voice, periodically injecting a 'mmmhhhmm', her attention focusing more on the liberties Greg was taking while she was supposedly concentrating on her real son's conversation. His fingers were straying right down to her pussy now, not touching, but gently poking and scratching all around the sides in the hollow at the top of her thighs, even sneaking into the crease below.

"That's nice, Jay," she whispered, interrupting him as she responded to a quick brush across her panties. "Mmmmmm," she injected again as her other son's fingers slowly retraced their path, lingering for a quick slide of his thumb up her crevice. "Oh, that's great, son," she blurted, belatedly hoping it didn't sound out of context.

Greg pulled his hands back, stroking further out on her thighs. He let her finish her conversation without taking further undue advantage. Lorraine reveled in the sound of her son's voice and the feel of 'his' hands all over the inside of her thighs. After a few more minutes, Lorraine said, "Good luck, son. I'll wait up for you." The phone clicked. Lorraine kept it gripped tightly in her hand.

Greg kept stroking her legs. He moved higher again, back into the hollows on the inside of her thighs, near her pussy. She allowed it even though she was no longer distracted. In fact, she opened her legs slightly wider, settling deeper into the couch to enjoy it. He deserved a reward for having the class to pull back while she was talking to Jay. A few minutes later, she suddenly realized that only one of his hands was stroking her leg. She opened her eyes to see him holding her glass to her lips.

"Close your eyes and have some more wine, Mom."

As her eyelids fluttered down she felt him tip the glass and let the warm wine spill into her mouth. She swallowed. He tipped the glass again. She swallowed, and then shook her head.

He tipped it again, "More."

She shook her head.

"More," he insisted.

She relented, letting him pour more in, spilling a little on her lips. That's OK, I'm feeling so relaxed. She could feel his left arm resting on her thigh near the top of her leg, his hand dangling between her legs near her pussy. The precocious little bugger. As he had offered her more wine, he'd slid her dress right up and opened her legs even wider, and she hadn't even noticed. She couldn't believe he hadn't gotten further along seducing his real mom. His fingers were at her lips, pushing a drop of spilled wine into her mouth.

"Don't waste this expensive wine, Mom," he whispered.

He dragged his finger out, traced it slowly across her lips, pushed it back into her mouth, then repeated this several times as if doing her with a small penis.

"More?" he asked.

She nodded. Expecting to feel the glass at her lips, she was surprised when she felt the thickness of several fingers, wet with wine, prodding her closed lips, which soon parted to allow him entry. He's like a salesman seeking agreement to one thing after another before making the final pitch.

"Suck them," he whispered softly, his face close to hers.

Lorraine sucked, and kept sucking even after the taste of wine was gone. She was horny, very horny. She'd meant to tease him with her legs, to give him a nice look, but she'd lost control while talking to Jay and she was surprised that she didn't care.

"More?"

She nodded again, this time holding her mouth open. His fingers returned, covered in wine, but he didn't put them in.

"Please," she whispered.

She couldn't believe her own ears! He pushed in and she sucked on his fingers hungrily. She was feeling very warm and moist and her pussy was throbbing. He was brushing his fingers lightly back and forth across the front of her panties. Incredibly, she pushed her mound against him, striving for firmer contact.

"More?"

"Please."

She was startled when he poured the rest of her glass into her open mouth. At first, she gagged, then quickly swallowed. His fingers pressed against her lips and she opened them automatically. He pushed his fingers in and rested them on her tongue.

"Suck," he commanded.

His other fingers left the front of her panties. Before she could register disappointment, she felt them dig under her panty leg and push onto her bare pussy. It didn't even cross her mind to complain.

"Keep sucking."

She sucked his fingers vigorously as she felt his fingers curl and dip between her slippery lips below. Leaning in, he put his tongue delicately into her ear as he dug his fingers into her. She moaned around the fingers filling her mouth while grasping with her nether lips at the intruders below. She needed it so badly now.

He pulled his fingers out of her mouth and slid around to kiss her, slipping his tongue inside. She could feel him tugging her panties down with his free hand, pulling them away from her pussy, part way to her knees. The crooked fingers of his left hand never left her cunt. Then she felt him pushing two more fingers from his other hand into her. His tongue swelled in her. He pulled his left hand free to make room for the rest of the fingers on his right hand. It was so vulgar, so demanding. She lifted her legs and opened wide to give him room. His free hand came up to the side of her head, grasping her hair and holding her still as he broke the kiss and pulled back to look a her. She gazed back, eyes wide, panting. Looking down on her, he began to work his hand into her soaking cunt. 

"Close your eyes," he instructed.

She did, and as he continued working her pussy, twisting and pushing his fingers in further and further, widening her, she thought, God, its been so long. A low moan escaped her lips and she humped his violating fingers.

"That's it," she heard him rasp, "fuck it. Come on, fuuuck it!"

She thrust hard against him, again and again. Suddenly, he pulled his hand away. She opened her eyes. He was staring down at her, gasping.

"Turn around," he barked.

She gazed back, not comprehending.

"Turn over," he repeated, putting his hand under her left knee, lifting and twisting it toward the center of the couch.

Lorraine moved with him, in a daze, twisting around until she was on both knees facing the back of the couch. She felt his hand move behind her, up between her legs to her pussy. His fingers entered her as his other hand pushed her forward against the couch, then grasped her hair, tugging her head back.

His voice rasped hoarsely in her ear, "Now let's really get into it."

He shoved his fingers in, her ass rising in response, her knees lifting off the couch. He kept pushing. She let out a steady moan as his fingers slid completely into her and the body of his hand started pressing for entrance as well.

"Come, on. Take it. You can do it. Take it!" he growled.

She yowled as her cunt succumbed to the pressure, allowing his hand to squeeze in. He held it still while she softly moaned, accommodating his vulgar intrusion. He began to shake his embedded hand in her pussy, a squelching sound emitting as it achieved vibration status. Then he started to twist, just a little. GOD, it feels fantastic. She couldn't help it. She moaned loudly.

His twisting quickened, and he started to move his hand in and out, traveling only an inch, but generating the most incredible feeling. "I can't, I can't," she cried.

"Yes you can, baby. Come on, Mom. Do it for me. Do it for your son." He pushed his hand further in, causing her to expel a primal grunt. "TAKE IT."

He let go of her hair, letting her head slump forward onto the couch. He pushed his hand in as far as he could and began twisting back and forth, keeping the pressure on her, and shaking his arm so rapidly it quivered. The muscles in her groin convulsed on him and she started to utter mewling sounds in time with her pelvic thrusts. Her fluid drowned him, flowing down his arm and her legs. Her actions were frenetic, she was really getting into it. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head to the left, forcing her around and down on to the couch seat, keeping her ass high, with his hand thrust firmly into her cunt. He worked her hard and fast and held her head firmly down. Though her moaning and grunting could now wake the dead he didn't let up; he was past caring that her husband was home.

Finally, she exploded, her cunt pulsing wildly on his hand, a small tidal wave of juice flooding out. After a long series of shudders, her orgasm subsided and he let her fall off his hand. He stood and looked down at this exquisitely elegant woman, still fully clothed, her dress riding high above her ass, exposing wet buttocks that still quivered and glistened in the light. Her moaning was silenced but she was still panting for breath. He leaned down to unzip her dress.

"No," she protested, weakly.

"Yes," he replied. "Lift up."

He pulled her dress roughly over her head and tossed it aside, unhooked her bra and pulled off, throwing it down as well. She lay completely nude on the couch, exhausted, though breathing more regularly now. She closed her eyes as he moved to his bag but she heard him rummage through it. Opening her eyes, she watched him pull out a pair of long, blue suede boots and move toward her. She closed her eyes again.

He lifted her feet, bending her legs at the knees. One at a time, he pushed the suede boots over her feet and tugged them onto her legs. Kneeling behind her on the couch, he prodded her legs open, grasped her hips, and pulled her ass up. She felt his knees scrape the the sides of her thighs as he rose up and straddled her. She turned her head around to look at him.

"Fantastic. You are one gorgeous woman. I need to fuck you with these boots on."

She started to protest but it was too late. He dipped down and pushed his cock into her, slipping easily into her recently abused cunt. Once inside, he immediately started to ride her. There was no finesse. He fucked her furiously, their union loudly betrayed by ever more frequent slapping sounds that almost covered their primitive grunts. He desperatel needed to come and his hips whaled on hers.

As he blew his load he shoved her forward, collapsing onto her back. Gasping, he bit her neck and scrunched his hips forward, driving her into the couch with his cock still embedded in her soaked pussy. He clenched his thighs again and again, each time squeezing out a little more cum. With each squirt, he bit her neck again but she didn't complain. She just pushed her ass back to meet his bulging cock. At last, they lay still, and his cock softened. He pulled out, and sat on the coffee table, reaching for his clothes. She lay still as he dressed, quietly watching him, no longer the nervous, usure boy she'd let in her door.

"Pick out a nice dress to match those boots for next time."

"What makes you think there'll be a next time?" she demanded.

He smiled. "You'd look pretty in blue." He looked at her ass again. "Amazing. Call me when you're ready for more."

After he turned to walk away, she smiled, secretly pleased with his awed appreciation. This slender, pretty boy with his smallish cock had just given her the most intense sexual experience she'd ever had. The arrogant confidence he assumed when he thought he was winning was irresistable and she knew she'd call.

--------------------------------

When Jay arrived home, the house was dark. The exam had been a bitch. He'd been looking forward to being with his Mom and was disappointed when he opened the door and his hearing confirmed that she wasn't there to greet him.

He hung up his coat and walked to the kitchen, got a glass of water and drank it as he walked into the still dark living room. He sipped his water and gazed out the big window thinking about the test he'd just written. His heart almost stopped when Lorraine spoke, "Was it very hard, son?"

"JESUS! Mom!" He spun to face her, water splashing out of his glass. She was sitting on the couch, dressed in silky pajamas cut low in front and falling only to the middle of her thighs. Her arms were bare, and the insides of her breasts swelled in plain view. She was holding a nearly empty glass of red wine.

"I've been waiting for you, son. Come lay your head in my lap and relax. It's over now."

Her free arm beckoned and Jay went to her, lying on his back, head in her lap. She smelled like a fresh shower.

"Dhelia?" he inquired, tentatively.

"No son. I'm afraid it's just your mother."

Jay was disappointed. His hopes had risen that she wanted to play Dhelia and Greg again. He sighed.

Hearing his sigh, Lorraine's heart went out to him. He worked so hard. The exam must have been tougher than he was letting on. She set her wine glass down and stroked his hair with one hand while stroking his face with the other. "Sshhh, son. Mom will make you feel better now."

Jay closed his eyes and relaxed under the spell of his mother's gentle stroking. This wasn't so bad and maybe it was enough for tonight. He let the world fade away. He turned to face her, pushing her nightie higher so he could lay his face on her bare thighs. He wasn't pushing for more.

"Don't be naughty, Jay," Lorraine admonished quietly, but she continued stroking him. "At least, not too naughty."

What did that mean? Jay wondered. In a test, he slid his right hand under his chest, then higher, under her right thigh, pushing until he felt his fingers curl up high on the inside of her leg. Contrary to complaining, Lorraine had lifted the weight off her leg to make it easier for him slide his hand underneath.

"I used to hold you like this when you were little, while you napped. Do you remember?"

"Mmmmhmmm," he responded, as if intent on having a nap now. He moved his left hand in front of his face, laying it across her lap, on top of the nightie he'd bunched up as he'd bared her thighs below his head. She began softly singing a lullaby, sometimes voicing the lyrics, sometimes just humming. Jay worked his fingers until he had wormed his hand under the nightie to rest his on her bare tummy.

She wasn't wearing panties! Jay's whole body tingled and his cock stretched the fabric of the sweat pants he'd worn to his exam. He pushed his hand further under her leg, straining to get closer to her pussy. She opened her legs! He stretched his fingers along her crevice, working them into her warm, moist slit. She was wet! Slowly, he rubbed his fingers back and forth, strumming her lower lips like a guitar.

Her humming stopped. She leaned forward, whispering, "Gently now. You know, I used to hum like this after I nursed you, for ages. Do you remember nursing at my breasts?"

Jay nodded on her bare thighs. Lorrained leaned back, humming. Jay continued to work his fingers in her pussy and felt her get increasingly hot and wet under his delicate touch. He didn't shove, he didn't thrust; he kept it slow and gentle. If that's what she wanted, that's what she'd get.

Eventually, he lifted his head to look at her. She was lying back against the couch, eyes closed, humming softly. Her back was slightly arched, stretching her tits, making her nipples poked hard into the thin silk nightie. He moved his hand up and slipped the material off to the side, baring both tits. Slipping his hand behind her, he moved across the small of her back to curl his fingers around waist, then lowered his head to engulfed her right tit, sucking its hard nipple into his mouth and surrounding it with his tongue.

"Ohhh, Jay, ohhhhh, baby, ohhhhh," his mother cried, clutching his head to her breast. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucking hard and gently biting, while slipping his fingers into her pussy below.

"Ohh, God, suck it, Jay, suck me," she moaned, arching her back to thrust her tit deeper into his mouth and her pussy further onto his fingers.

Jay did, switching to her other tit after a few minutes, afraid he would strip her nipple raw. Every minute or so he switched tits, his fingers digging deeper inside her pussy, but not by his actions. She kept squirming her ass around, working him deeper within. Finally, when his fingers were in as far as they could go, she pulled his head off her tit to kiss him, pushing her tongue deep inside his mouth. When she broke the kiss, she pulled his head next to hers.

She gasped into his ear, "Like that, baby, that's it, deep. Get right in there."

Not quite comprehending what she wanted, Jay tried to pull his head back to kiss her.

"No, baby, your hand. Push your hand in. Right inside me."

She squirmed, writhing on him to make her point. Hesitantly, he started to push, stretching her vagina.

"Ohhh, yes, that's it, that's it," she moaned, wrapping her hands around him, clutching his head to her. "Shove it in baby, all the way, please Jay," she begged.

He pushed harder. The pressure was tremendous, she was so tight on his large hand. Then suddenly, it was easier. She was soaking wet, surrounding him like a tight, warm, slick glove. She glued her mouth onto his ear.

"Twist it. Come on." Ohhhh, ohhhh, ohhhh," she cried as he responded. "Shove it in, fuck me with it!"

She pushed him violently away, then turned onto the arm of the couch and raised her ass to him. "Hurry," she gasped, "put it back in!"

Jay was amazed. Her cunt was gaping in front of him. He reached forward and plunged his soaked fingers inside, his hand now following easily into her loosened hole. He plunged his hand in and out, working it in a twisting motion. Harder and harder, faster and faster. She went wild, leaning right down over the arm of the couch, her hands on the inside pushing herself back, hard, shoving her ass at him. When he rammed his hand forward and kept it still, she stretched her legs straight back and the muscles all along her limbs shook uncontrollably. Her orgasm lasted several minutes, legs quivering and hips bucking. It was incredible. He'd never seen a woman come like that and, despite his limited experience, knew it was rare.

She lay there, collapsed over the arm of the couch, panting. Her cheeks still clenching in response to random muscle spasms. He pushed his sweatpants down, his freed cock springing forward. Grasping her hips, he lifted her ass off the couch, bracing for her usual denial of his gratification. But she didn't object. He let go of her hips, placing one hand on top of her ass and using the other to guide the head of his cock to her pussy. As his cock touched her sweaty cheeks, she lifted her ass to help it find its target. Was she teasing him? He pushed. She turned her head to look back at him as his cock shoved slowly into her.

"Fuck me, baby. Make me never forget this first time."

She raised her hands to grip the couch. Fully engaged, he paused to relish the experience. He was finally inside her! Her cunt grasped his rod, milking it with a palpitating, wanton action. Almost imperceptibly, he began to move. Not pulling out and shoving back in so much as swelling his cock inside her and gently rocking against her ass. He took his time, intent on establishing a rhythm. He moved in a small sideways circle, reaming her, frequently tensing his muscles as he reached full forward extension, bulging inside her, rewarded by a thrilling little 'ohhhhh' each time.

Soon, they moved in unison as she anticipated his occasional bulges in the deepest part of her cunt. He had extended his hands to stroke her body from shoulder to hip, along her back, her sides, and sometimes under her belly, tracing his fingers gently along her abdomen, under her hanging tits where he paused to softly squeeze and tug her nipples. Her body was a temple, his cock an instrument of worship.

"I love you, Mom," he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

She was moaning steadily now. He hunched his cock into her, almost lifting her off her knees. He held her tits, pinching and tugging her nipples, constantly fucking, not too hard but firmly, relentlessly. Their tempo increased. He thrust extra hard every few strokes, then more often. Soon he was plugging her hard every time. They were grunting and moaning loudly, in harmony. "HUNNNHH, HUNNHHH, HUNNNHHH!"

Such frenzy wasn't sustainable. She flooded her release just as he came, frantically pulling out at the last minute, afraid to make her pregnant, spewing his spunk over her ass, part of his load spurting to her shoulders. He collapsed forward, his body mashing his sticky fluid against her back as he stretched his arms around to cradle her head, whispering, "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, son."

-------------------------------------

The following week, Jay went to visit Greg again, curious about how he was doing. As he approached the store, he witnessed Greg talking to a small, attractive woman with tanned skin and long, wavy, chocolate colored hair. Their demeanor reflecting a familiar association, Jay stopped to window shop at the store next door to observe them more closely. Could this be Dhelia? She looked to be in her mid to late thirties. Very sexy in a simple brown and beige dress that fell to mid thigh level with shoes whose straps curled up around her ankles, drawing attention to her well muscled legs.

No wonder Greg wanted to fuck her. She was just as gorgeous as his mom in her own way. The woman put her arms around Greg and gave him a light kiss on his cheek. Then, after a quick look around, a brief kiss on his lips. She turned and walked into the mall, thankfully heading in the other direction so that Greg's gaze wasn't drawn toward Jay. Greg disappeared into the back of the store.

Jay quickly scooted across the front of the shoe store and followed the woman down the mall. She turned into a woman's dress shop, the same one to which Jay had last taken his mother. Jay followed her in, browsing through several dress racks, studiously avoiding looking her way, before turning to the rack she was exploring.

A salesgirl approached, the same one that had served him before. "Can I help you find something, for your girl friend?" she asked.

"No, I'm shopping for my mother, actually, but I'm just browsing for now, thanks."

"How about you, ma'am," the girl turned to the woman.

"No, I'm fine as well."

The girl returned to the sales station. Jay continued to rummage through the dresses.

"You're shopping for your mother?" the woman asked in a soft, sexy voice.

"Hmmm?" Jay responded, looking up.

"Your mother," she repeated, "Is it her birthday?"

"No, no," Jay answered, "I just felt like picking something up for her."

"That's very thoughtful. She must be a very modern lady. These are very sexy dresses."

Jay smiled, "Some moms are quite sexy, don't you think?" Dhelia blushed as Jay glanced over her. "Like you," he finished.

"Oh, well, uh, thank you."

"Not at all."

Jay continued to rummage through the same dresses, feeling a little obvious that he kept pawing through the same ones, but Dhelia didn't seem to notice.

"Do you always buy that kind of dress for your Mom?" Dhelia blurted out, then, seeing Jay's surprised reaction, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. It's just that they're pretty sexy dresses. Don't get me wrong, I think its neat ... I mean, I have a son, and ... uh ... I think it would be neat thing for him to do." Dhelia finally finished, red-faced.

Moving quickly to put her at ease, before she fled, Jay picked a dress off the rack and calmly said, "I'd pick this one for you."

Dhelia, at a loss for words, stared at the sexy, dark purple dress held out to her. "Oh, that's way too sexy for me. I could never ..."

"It's the one your son would pick out," Jay interrupted.

"Oh, I don't know, I ..."

"You mean you wouldn't even try it on after he picked it out for you?" Jay asked disapprovingly. Before she could answer, he pushed the dress into her hands. "Go on. I'll let you know what he'd think. Try it," he prodded more gently.

Nonplussed, Dhelia took the dress and walked hesitantly to the fitting room. l'll just wait until he goes. But what if he stays? Slowly, she kicked off her shoes and shed her blouse and pants. Donning the dress, she realized its plunging neckline revealed her bra. She reached in, unhooked, and slid the bra out. Moments later she emerged, excited but half expecting the young man to be gone. He wasn't, and a thrill ran through her in response to his obvious enthusiasm upon seeing her.

"Wow. Just wow. If you let your son see you in this, you'll open up a whole new world for him. Do a spin."

Dhelia, surprising even herself, spun around at his suggestion, tensing her legs sexily as she rose up on her toes, her breasts pressing up perkily against the flimsy fabric.

"This is too good to pass up. Let me buy it for you, and your son."

Dhelia was astonished. "No. I couldn't. I don't even know you. That's crazy."

"But it's fate. Please, for your son. Let me," Jay implored. "You look so fantastic in that dress. You just can't let him miss out."

"But we're strangers."

"My name is Jay. And though I don't know him, I'm sure your son will think of me as his best friend if he knew I picked out that dress for you to wear for him."

"Would your mom wear this for you?" Dhelia queried.

"Not when my Dad was around," Jay confided with a laugh, "but she would never deny me the joy of being near her the way you are right now."

"Alright, since you put it that way."

"There. So now we're friends. What's your son's name, and yours?"

"Dhelia, and Greg."

As they left the shop, Jay touched Dhelia on the arm and asked, "I'd love to know your son's reactions to the dress. Would you call me and let me know?"

Dhelia thought about it. Her automatic reaction was to just walk away, but he'd bought this dress and he was so sincere. On top of that, he wasn't asking for her number but offering his. "Yes," she said. "I will. And thanks again. It's been interesting, and different."

"That's good," Jay replied as he wrote his number on a scrap of paper.

"What's your mother's name?" Dhelia pried.

"Lorraine," came the response. Then, "Please call me. I'd really like to know what happens. I'd love to see you in that dress again myself, and any of your other outfits, for that matter."

Dhelia blushed. "Now you're just trying to make me feel good."

"You're absolutely right," Jay gazed steadily, meaningfully into her eyes.

Flustered again, Dhelia turned and walked quickly away. But within ten feet she slowed down and fell into a more seductive gait. Jay smiled. She was sexy, this woman, and he wanted her. The fact that she was a mom—better yet—Greg's mom, made his cock swell.

---------------------------------

Thinking about Dhelia, and brimming with confidence at the way he'd handled her, Jay was still hard when he got home. He could hear his mother in the kitchen as he entered the front door. She'd been avoiding him since the night he'd finally been able to fuck her, but he wasn't worried. He knew it was her style to retreat for awhile but return to play again, and this time he wouldn't chase her. He sensed that in that way he could keep fucking permanently on the agenda. She really got off on the rough fingering—no, handfuck was more accurate—that she'd demanded. In fact, her desperate need had shocked him. He knew he could use that to get more of what he wanted, and he intended to.

Jay went up to his room to change into a muscle shirt and loose exercise shorts before joining his mom in the kitchen. As he approached, he saw that she was dressed in a long, silky nightgown without its accompanying shawl. Great, she's ready to play. He ignored her as he entered, moving casually about, making himself a snack.

"Where were you?" Lorraine complained.

"Oh, out and about," Jay carelessly tossed out, not bothering to look in her direction. He could feel her eyes on him, could tell she was looking at the bulge in his shorts, still partly filled by thoughts of Dhelia's ass as she sashayed down the mall.

"Your father's been calling for his dinner," she said, indicating the partly filled plate on the counter, "but I'm not in the mood to see him, especially dressed like this," she tried to pull Jay's attention to her silky nightgown, implying that she'd worn it specially for him. "Can you take it up to him for me?"

"That's depends, Mom."

"On what?" she countered just as his Dad's typically commanding voice burst from the intercom.

"Lorrie, I want extra tomatoes, with lots of pepper."

Jay wandered over to his mother, sitting at the table, the chair turned sideways, facing the room. "On what you'll do for me."

"What?" his father grumbled.

"Nothing, dear," Lorraine replied, as Jay stopped in front of her, the bulge at the front of his shorts noticeably growing.

"...and I want pickles," the intercom continued, "sliced flat ..."

Jay stepped close to his mother, pressing his knee against her closed legs, prying them open as he pushed closer still.

"and laid out side by side..."

Jay's shorts were now inches from his mother's face. Her eyes were glued on his prominent swelling.

"...north to south..."

Jay reached down and pushed the waist band of his shorts down, allowing his hardening cock to flip out. His mother didn't even blink. Reaching down, he picked up the plastic bottle of mayonnaise from the table and squeezed a dollop on his dick.

"...the way I like it."

Leaning forward, he pressed the purple head against her lips, rubbing it sideways across her mouth, smearing mayonnaise on her upper lip and on the tip of her nose.

"Did you hear me?" the intercom demanded.

Jay shoved. His cock invaded his mother's mouth, bulging her cheeks. He grasped the sides of her head as his father repeated, "Did you hear me?"

Jay jammed his cock into his mother's mouth again and again, holding her head so she couldn't pull away, but she didn't try. It was as if she was in a trance. It really turned him on, listening to his father's increasingly angry voice as he fucked her face, his mother's face, his father's wife.

His father's voice was frantic now. Jay pulled his cock out, moving one hand up to grab his mother's hair, holding her still with his cock an inch in front of her open mouth.

"Dad. Dad!" he spoke at the intercom. "Mom's finished your dinner. I'll bring it right up. OK?"

"OK, son." Jay heard the click as his father closed the connection.

Jay poked his cock in and out of his mother's open mouth, pulling completely out each time. With his left hand, he tugged, gently urging her up, turning her to face the table and laying her face down on it, her head facing his cock. Using his free hand, he reached down to the hem of her gown and pulled it up and over her cheeks, bunching it in the small of her back above her ass.

Freeing her hair, Jay picked up the vegetable oil she'd dripped over his Dad's salad and poured it freely over his right hand until it was dripping oil. Grasping her hair again, he pulled her mouth toward his cock until its head parted her lips again. Reaching behind her, he brought his soaking hand to her pussy, then easily pushed all of his oily fingers inside her, simultaneously shoving his cock deep into her mouth.

"No panties? Nice touch, Mom. Do that again."

Jay began twisting his oily fingers about, pushing right in the way he knew she liked it. He could feel her moaning, pumping her breath around his cock, thick in her mouth. Concentrating on his handiwork, he let his cock lie still in her mouth, enjoying her palpitating tongue. A few moments later, as her excitement mounted, he pulled it out and paid full attention to reaming her as best he could. He wanted her to love this as he knew it was his ticket to get whatever he wanted.

Much later, as his mother lay quietly gasping on the kitchen table, Jay entered his father's room carrying his dinner on a tray held in his right hand, his forearm drenched in vegetable oil, and other fluids. His Dad nodded absently at him, his meal already forgotten. Jay asked, gesturing with his slick hand, if there was anything else he needed, anything he could do for him, to no response. Smiling, Jay left, his pace quickening as he reached the door, already thinking about the grateful woman waiting for him downstairs, waiting for him to finish what he'd started.

-----------------------------------

"What? What did you say?" Dhelia demanded.

Greg's cock bulged in his jeans. It felt like it was going to break. His mom looked incredibly hot in her new purple dress, reclining lengthways along the couch, exposing her legs above mid thigh. She had bent her knees and tensed her calf muscles just as he'd entered the room, causing the hem of the sexy, slinky dress to fall toward her hips.

All day, he'd been thinking about fucking her tonight but he hadn't expected her to be waiting, willing and dressed for his cock. His Dad must have left for work already if she was wearing a dress that exposed her legs like that and, though profiled from the side, the valley between her sweet small breasts, laid bare, was bewitchedly inviting.

"I said you look incredibly hot, Mom. I'm not hungry anymore, for food anyway," Greg smiled, walking purposely toward her.

Jumping up from the couch, Dhelia queried him again, "No, not that. You said I was hotter than someone else's mom. Who's mom?"

Surprised and perplexed, Greg repeated his compliment, "Yeah, I said you were even hotter than Jay's Mom. And you are, you're dynamite, Mom!" Jay tried to grasp her by the waist but she shied away.

"Jay's mom?"

"Yeah, you know. The guy that came into the store with his mom. I told you they were real sexy with each other." Was she jealous?

"His name was Jay?"

"Yeah, Jay."

Dhelia allowed Greg to grab her waist and pull her against him. She didn't feel his bulging jeans pressing against her tummy as his mouth latched onto hers. Her mind was reeling. Did he mean the same Jay she'd flirted with this afternoon, the one that was so keen on her son's reaction to the dress? He knew her son?

She broke the kiss, pulling her head away. "You're very excited tonight. Do I remind you of this Jay's mom? What's her name?"

"Yes ... I mean, no ... you look even better. It's just the kind of dress reminded me of her. But you're sexier, Mom."

"Really?" Dhelia kissed him quickly twice on the lips but pulled back before he could engage her. Greg's hands moved to the small of her back, trying to press her to him, but she resisted. His eyes strayed to her breasts, pushing up against the thin material of the dress as she pushed her hands against his chest to keep her distance. "What's his mom's name?"

"I don't remember," Greg lied. He tried to slide his hand around to cup her breasts but she blocked him by squeezing her elbow against her side.

"That's too bad, because I'm pretending to be someone else tonight in this sexy new dress. I think I'll be Jay's mom, the one that wants to be so nice to her son. You can't be 'my' son if you don't even know my name."

Dhelia blocked Greg's other hand as it too tried to slide around to grasp a breast.

"Come on, Mom. I don't remember," Greg whined, but to no avail.

"Oh, well. Did you want to watch a movie, then, or go out for some pizza?" Dhelia teased.

"No. I want to be with you, Mom."

Dhelia broke completely free. She strutted away from her son, tensing her legs and cheeks as she walked, then whirled around to face him, hip cocked up, knee bent, and right arm crooked as she used her hand to lift her hair up one side of her head.

Pouting, she spoke softly, "Well, this is only for my son. Jay!" She blew him a pouty kiss, turned and walked into the kitchen.

Greg ran after her, catching up just as she started to open the fridge. Pushing it closed by pressing against her body from behind, he whispered hoarsely in her ear, "I want you, Lorraine. I need you."

He slid his hands along her sides, up her thighs, over the swell of her hips, into her waist and up her ribcage to the sides of her breasts. He met no resistance. He grasped a tit in each hand as he slid his tongue into her ear, squeezing his fingers over her nipples.

"Give it to me, Mom. Push your sweet ass out, Lorraine."

Dhelia slumped against the fridge, held up only by her son's grasp. Her mind was whirling. It was the same Jay and he had to have known who he was talking to. That's why be bought the dress! What game was he playing?

She felt herself moistening, but not from her son's ministrations on her tits, or the bulge he tried to enhance by pressing so firmly into her buttocks. She was now even more intrigued by the sexy young man she'd met in the afternoon.

So he liked to play games, did he?

Suddenly, Dhelia thrust her ass out, spreading her cheeks over her son's modest bulge.

"Oh, Jay," she sighed.

She reached behind to undo her son's belt, unzipping him and dragging his jeans down his hips, tugging hard to pull his jockey shorts over his cock which, like a coiled spring, immediately leapt up to nudge the gap between her legs under her cheeks.

"Oh, Jay," she moaned again as Greg shoved his meat to and fro, trying to leverage it into her wet slit.

"Come on," she gasped, angling out even further to give him better access, her head flattened sideways against the fridge door.

"Uhhhhhhnnnnngghhh," she cried, as he finally found her, pushing in up to the hilt, her head sliding up and down the fridge as her son frantically slammed into her from behind, wheezing with the effort.

"Ohhhh, Goooddd, Mommmm!"

Greg's hands slid down from her tits to grasp her hips to keep her from bouncing off his slamming cock. Pulling her away from the fridge door, her shoulders fell toward the floor, hair cascading over her head, her body bent almost in half as Greg lunged repeatedly, a wet smacking sound filling the kitchen. "MOMMMM," he groaned, "Oh, MOMmm!"

Slap, slap slap ...

To be continued ... 



