TITLE    : Brushing Mom's Hair Ch. 04

STORYID  : brushing-moms-hair-ch-04

SUMMARY  : Son is keen to braid Mom's hair.

AUTHOR   : alwayswantedto@lit

DATE     : 2009-05-17

CATEGORY : taboo-sex-stories

FLAGS    : h

TAGS     : |mom|son|reluctance|seduction|tease|teasing|milf|mature|mother/son|





<i>All characters are 18 years or older.</i>

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

Would I like to learn how to braid Mom's hair? Well, yeah!

I looked closely at Mom's hair the next morning while eating breakfast. Her hair really was beautiful, a slightly wavy chestnut brown that fell a third of the way down her back. The swirl of her mane about her shoulders as she moved around the kitchen made my dick tingle and I loved it when she pulled her hair back from her face, tipping her head to let if fall over her shoulders. I could hardly wait until tonight when I could get my fingers in it.

But that wasn't to be. Mom went out with her friends for dinner and didn't return until late. I waited up but she went into her room before I could get out of mine to greet her, shutting the door behind her. What was up? Had I angered her? I reviewed the day in my mind, the morning and brief interaction after school, but couldn't find anything I might have said or done that could have upset her. Disappointed, I retreated to bed and consoled myself with spanking the monkey.

Tuesday. This was the day. Nope.

Mom had to attend a business function with Dad. I waited but the door was shut again after my parents went to bed. Mom was aloof the next morning. I really must have done something but I couldn't think of what no matter how hard I racked my brain. 

Wednesday. Same standoffish mother, morning and night.

Thursday, the same. Had she been visited by Guilt

Friday. Chipper mom. All bright and smiley, wearing a plain white, sleeveless cotton blouse that hid her small but perky assets, tucked into a pair of form-fitting, dark navy blue shorts. I had an instant crotch rise at the breakfast table as I looked at her long legs and shapely bottom, and was barely able to contain myself when she stood in front of me, right leg and hip slightly forward, stretching her shorts tightly over the prominence of her puffy mound.

"What are you up for this morning, sweetie?" Mom purred as if the past week's aloofness was a figment of my imagination.

"To eat?" I asked, looking up, unable to keep hope from the tenor of my voice.

Mom smiled at my obvious hint, pushed her knee further forward and watched my eyes stray down to the front of her plush shorts, sensuously rocking her hips in a slow tease. 

"And to drink. What would please your taste buts most this morning?" the twinkle in Mom's eyes produced sparks in my cock, causing it to throb painfully in my jeans. 

I want to throw you on the floor and fuck your brains out, my head screamed, but my mouth silkily mewed, "Whatever's easiest for you, Mom."

"How about yogurt and fruit again?" she asked.

"Sure, that would be great."

Mom pivoted on her feet and tensed her buttocks before strolling slowly to the fridge. A moment later she returned with two bowls. I had watched her the whole time, keeping a tab on my father every time his newspaper rustled to make sure he was behind it, unable to see me ogling my own mother.

"Which one do you want?" Mom asked, setting the bowls down on the table. "This one's French vanilla and this one's lemon." 

Mom dipped her finger in one and moved it quickly to my mouth, inserting it between my lips and pushing it all the way in, sliding along my tongue. My eyes were saucers as she slowly dragged her finger out, scooped it through the other bowl and returned it to my mouth, wiggling on my tongue for a few seconds before retracting it the same teasing way. 

"Well?" Her face literally dripped amusement, heightened, I'm sure, by my shocked visage.

Mom turned and walked to the fridge, returning with a container of orange juice to pour two glasses while standing in the same, sexy stance with knee bent and hip cocked forward. 

"You can have this one," she pushed the bowl with lemon yogurt toward me, "and we'll find something sweet for you later today." Again the big smile.

Mom sat down to eat her yogurt and fruit. She crossed her legs under the table and her foot bumped against my leg. Something was definitely up. Today was the day, my brain sang, as song that was interrupted by Dad suddenly rustling his paper as he flipped pages, the noise covering the clatter of Mom's sandal dropping to the floor. Mom's bare foot pried between my knees as my father snapped the paper before burying his face again, a moment later mumbling to himself as Mom's toes scratched my thigh just above my knee. 

"Eat up," Mom said, nodding at my barely touched bowl, pushing her spoon into her mouth and turning it over to suck the yogurt off like she had a week ago. This time, when she pulled the spoon from her mouth she kept it near and her tongue snaked out to lick the already clean metal. Mom smiled innocently at me as her tongue flicked around the spoon.

"Don't you want to eat it?" she asked, her eyes flickering as a mischievous smiled formed on her face. 

"Yeah Mom, I do," I assured her, digging my spoon in the bowl. Before I could eat it, Mom stretched her hand out and put her spoon in front of my mouth. When I leaned forward to take it she pulled it away but followed as I pulled my head back. Her eyes sparkled. I stuck my tongue out and she nodded. Quickly, I licked the spoon and found that a strangely erotic taste lingered from its presence in her mouth and the slithering bath of her sexy tongue. 

"Slowly," Mom said, "or you'll give yourself an upset stomach."

I dutifully followed her motherly advice and she nodded approval as my tongue bathed her spoon, trying to imitate the writhing action applied by her own tongue. When Dad shook the paper again in preparation for turning pages, Mom yanked the spoon away. After he settled in again, she stood, picked up her empty dishes, and stepped close to me.

"Oh, look what I've done," she said, looking down at the gob of white yogurt spilled on her dark blue shorts, looking helpless with a glass in one hand and the bowl in the other. "Can you get that for me, Michael?"

I was slow to react. What was she asking? I looked at Dad, or at least the newspaper covering everything except his hand and the top of his head. I looked back at the creamy gob on the front of Mom's shorts. Her hips moved, thrusting her pelvis toward me in the same motion she had teased me with earlier. Her pelvis stopped, and she waited.

I dropped my spoon and swung my right hand around toward Mom's shorts until it was half an inch away under the offending dollup of yogurt. Casting a nervous glance at my father, I pushed my hand forward, crooking my finger into a half cup and pressing it against Mom's blue shorts just under the yogurt, right on her pubic mound. 

The yogurt peeled off onto my fingers. I looked at it, resting in my cupped fingers, then raised it to my lips and sucked it into my mouth. 

"Get all of it Michael," Mom said in a quieter voice. Her eyes were on me. She didn't look at Dad. 

I put my finger back against her mound and rubbed. Up ... pulled back and down without breaking contact ... then up again. I rubbed up and down her shorts, right over her pussy. I could feel the crevice dividing her secret lips even under the tight shorts, especially when Mom pushed her mound against my fingers as they rubbed. I kept rubbing, up and down, until the paper rattled again and Mom turned away, walking toward the counter, ass moving delectably under the tight shorts, hands with dishes crooked to the sides and moving with the sway of her hips. I was left with my hand and fingers hanging out, toward Mom's retreating behind, as if I was making a point in conversation. 

My face went red as I turned toward Dad to explain myself, but he had already returned to his paper. I could hear Mom putting her glass and bowl in the sink and turned to see her walking back toward me, a round damp stain marking the spot where I had removed the yogurt.

"I'd better go up and change these," she said, walking past me and out of the kitchen.

I looked down at my own lap and the wet spot staining my jeans. I had cum in my pants and hadn't even been aware of it. I extricated myself from the table and beat a hasty retreat upstairs to my room. I threw my soiled jeans and shorts in the laundry basket, put on a robe, and went to the bathroom to get a shower. Stepping out, I was surprised to find Mom looking in the mirror, though it was fogged up. She was wearing a different pair of tight shorts. 

"Do these look ok?" she asked, putting her thumbs under the waistband on each hip and jutting her behind toward me, beautifully detailing her prominent cheeks and completely ignoring the fact that I was stark naked. 

I stepped close to her, my dangling cock pressing into her behind. She scooted forward, breaking contact. 

"You'll get me all wet, silly," Mom giggled, turning around before I could regain the softness of her ass. "Anyway," she said, "its daytime."

My face fell. 

"But make sure you come straight home from school," she said.

Was she going to give me a treat before Dad got home? My face brightened.

"Do you hear?" Mom demanded. 

I nodded eagerly just as Mom's soft little hand closed over my cock at the base, her fingers stretching down to cup my balls.

"Promise me," she whispered.

"I promise," I answered in a high pitch, barely able to speak.

Mom's fingers closed over my cock, twisted around and squeezed up my shaft, her thumb rubbing across the bottom of my glans. 

"Good boy," she said, stretching up on her toes to kiss me lightly on my mouth, tongue poking just inside and sliding sideways back and forth across my lips, before pushing in for a brief kiss.

Settling down on her heels, she said, "I'm looking forward to tonight." 

She stepped around me and was gone, leaving me standing there with a huge boner. I turned to the toilet and started jacking off.

Mom wasn't there when I came home from school. 

"We're on our own," Dad said when he came in. "Mom's gone to a show with the girls," he explained. 

We ordered in pizza. Dad had just gone up to bed when Mom came home about ten. 

"Hi baby," she greeted me cheerily, hanging her coat up in the closet. "Where's your Dad?"

She was wearing a nice dress that clung to her slender frame, a matching, integrated belt emphasizing her hips. She walked toward me, eyes questioning.

"In bed," I answered sullenly.

"Already?" Mom said in a tone that didn't really demand an answer.

"I thought you wanted me to braid your hair," I said, sounding sullen.

"Oh, I completely forgot. Marge called," she explained. "The girls wanted to go to this new show and, well, you know." Mom regarded me with that apologetic look that women sometimes use, knowing you can't must forgive them for whatever transgression was involved, real or not. "I'm sorry honey. I hope I didn't mess up your plans with your friends for nothing."

I shook my head.

"Can you do it tomorrow night? Please?" Mom knew I had already forgiven her.

"Sure," I said. 

"Can I show you a little bit tonight so you know what to do tomorrow?" she pressed.

I nodded.

"Great. Come on." Mom grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the stairs.

"Dad just went to bed," I said, looking at the kitchen, much preferring to fondle her hair there, in private.

"That's ok. He's probably asleep already."

Mom paused halfway up the stairs to remove her high heels. Somehow that innocently normal action cranked up the sexual tension and she looked so hot walking ahead of me in her stocking feet, her buttocks patiently taking turns bulging against her dress.

Dad wasn't sleeping. He was sitting up in bed reading and I immediately felt uncomfortable but Mom wasn't fussed at all.

"Hi dear. I'm going to show Michael how to braid my hair so he can do it for me tomorrow night," Mom explained as she pulled me toward their ensuite bathroom.

Without looking up, Dad asked, "Did you have fun with the girls?"

"Yes," Mom said without slowing her pace, knowing that was all the exchange that was needed, expected, or wanted.

I followed Mom inside and stood behind her as she stepped up to the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. The door was open and as I looked over Mom's shoulder I could see the mirrored door, and through it, my father from the side, sitting up in bed reading his book. 

"These have been killing me all night," Mom was saying. She had raised her dress up and slid her hands underneath from the sides. She ducked and her pantyhose appeared around her knees and were pushed down her legs so her feet could step out and kick them aside. 

Mom looked at me in the mirror. "Ok, now watch what I do."

She proceeded to give me a lesson on braiding hair, showing me by doing it herself with several strands she picked on the right side of her head, toward the front. She talked steadily as the demonstration proceeded, and I wondered if it was for my benefit, or my father's. I leaned closer and closer to her as I looked over her shoulder and my pelvis was eventually pressed tightly against her behind. She had looked up and caught my eyes when I first made contact, and smiled, before glancing to the side at the reflection in the bathroom door of my father. He had slumped down in the bed but was still reading.

Mom's ass wiggled against my sweatpants and the hard cock underneath settled into her womanly notch. 

"We'll have to finish this tomorrow night," she said, pushing back and rubbing her ass on me. God, she was such a fucking cock tease.

"Maybe you should do another one," I said. "I haven't quite got it yet." I pushed, pressing my cock along the length of her crack.

"Alright, one more," she said. "But then I have to get to bed."

I ground my cock into her ass in appreciation. 

"Unhook me," she whispered, loud enough for only me to hear, holding her hair up from her neck.

I struggled but finally managed to undo the little hook above the zipper on Mom's dress. Mom let her hair fall over my hand still at the back of her neck. Looking over her shoulder into her eyes in the mirror, I grasped the zipper and very slowly pulled it down her back, trying hard not to make a sound. I had sufficient presence of mind to take advantage of the rustling as Dad turned to a new page in his book, quickly running the zipper down to Mom's hips.

Mom tipped her head to the side and started braiding a strand on the other side of her face. She didn't seem surprised when my hands slid around her waist, inside her dress, and moved up her tummy to cup her breasts. Her training voice started again, repeating the same instructions she had used the first time. Her voice was calm and didn't change as my hands slid over the top of her breasts and squeezed her tits, my fingers finding and pinching her nipples, rolling and tugging. 

God, how I loved her nipples. They were like two perfect little cylinder, jutting out, waiting to be teased. I wanted to suck them and I whispered as much in her ear, digging my hard cock into her soft behind.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, her voice faltering a bit as I tugged her nipples out far enough to pull her breasts away from her chest. 

"Now," I insisted, dropping her tits back to her chest and rolling her nipples between my fingers.

"Tomorrow night," she countered.

"I can't wait," I gasped into her ear.

"Tomorrow," she pleaded.

"In the day?" I bargained.

A pause. "Alright."

"In the morning?"

A shorter pause. "Alright."

The light snapping off in the bedroom startled us both. I slid my hands down to Mom's waist and out of her dress, stepping back so my cock wasn't pressed between her cheeks but not so far that the huge pyramid in my sweatpants wouldn't be readily apparent should Dad suddenly walk through the bathroom door. Try as I might, I couldn't see anything in the bedroom, it was too dark. Mom was looking too, her eyes straining to see though she continued braiding her hair.

Clearly Dad had decided to go to sleep, but had he turned this way? Was he watching us? Obviously he could see us in the mirror if we could see him before he turned out the light. What was he doing? The air was taut with tension. Would he suddenly burst angrily through the door? What was he doing? My eyes weren't accommodating to the darkened room, not standing here in the bright bathroom, so my ears strained for telltale sounds that he was either coming or going to sleep.

We kept up our act of learning to braid Mom's hair. Several minutes passed but I still couldn't see or hear anything. My cock, aching for the press of her ass, pushed back between her buns. Mom, looking panicked, shook her head vigorously in short, sharp movements. I held her waist to stop her from leaving, relaxing when she didn't seem about to go, letting my hands slip under her dress once more.

I didn't dare to move up to hold her tits. It would be too obvious, but I did push my hands around her hips to rest on her belly and, after no outraged bellow from the other room, I thought it safe to let them move, brushing lightly across her lower tummy, trying not to raise a visible profile under the dress. 

I was shocked when my fingertips brushed through Mom's pubic hair. She wasn't wearing panties! My cock throbbed on her ass, the ass that had been naked under the dress all along. I leaned down into her neck and groaned, pushing my hand lower, meshing in her pussy hair and pulling her ass tighter against my cock. 

Mom's eyes darted toward the bedroom and her hands dropped from her hair, down to her hips. I held her tighter, ready to fight to retain access to her pussy and ass, but I didn't have to. Mom's hands worked at her sides and I realized that she was pulling her dress up, baring her ass. I pulled my hands out and down, grabbing her dress and helping to pull it over her hips as I felt Mom's hands reach back to push my sweatpants down. I bent my knees to help her get the waistband over my boner and wasted no time getting it against her hot skin as soon as it flopped clear. 

Throwing caution to the wind, I humped my cock between her cheeks, moving my hands up under her dress to grab her tits again. If Dad came in to kill me, it was worth it. I pulled my cock back and poked at her, trying to find her fuckhole. 

"Let me," I rasped in her ear.

Mom's arms were stretched over her head, elbows bent to allow her hands to hold my head.

"No," she whispered frantically. "Just rub me 'til you cum."

Mom moved her ass up and down, encouraging me to do as she asked but I wanted to fuck her and kept trying to get my cock in her. We struggled for a couple of minutes and I finally gave up, realizing I couldn't get it in her moving, twisting target unless she let me. I panted in her ear as I stood, cock slowly grinding against her ass as she pushed it back to goad me on.

That's when we heard Dad's gentle snore. I looked in the mirror, into Mom's eyes, and pulled my cock back, sliding it under her ass and between her legs, searching in her damp heat. Holding my gaze, Mom leaned forward and allowed her slit to find me, opening, sucking my eager cock inside. 

I loved the almost pained look on her face and the way her mouth opened as I shoved my cock all the way in. 

"Unnngghh."

Again.

"Unnnghhhh." 

Ahhhh, the way she lifted with each thrust. I liked that so much I stretched up on my toes just to see her face at the moment she was completely suspended on my cock. As Dad's snoring grew louder, I really began shoving into her, long hard lunges and mom hung her head down as I bounced her ass up and down. Her hair had fallen around the sink but I grabbed a handful to pull her head up so I could watch her face as I fucked her faster and faster. I couldn't stop. I was like a train, steadily gaining speed, never slowing, always faster and faster. I reached in front to rub my fingertip on her clit, then crooked my long finger and slid it into her cunt, on top of my cock, feeling it slide back and forth, jiggling my hand around as I fucked, pounding against her ass. 
<hr pg="2" />She started making the little sounds I was now familiar with and changed into an accompanying characteristic breathing pattern. She was close, near her orgasm. I sucked her ear into my mouth and felt her cunt flood me with her fluid, triggering my own explosive eruption. I jerked and jerked, convulsing inside her until I had nothing left to give, finally letting go and letting her head fall forward again. She gasped for breath, her dress caught on her hips, legs open, my cum trickling down the inside of one thigh. 

Fuck she was so hot. If I could sleep with her, I knew I'd fuck her again before morning. A picture flashed in my head of me waking up and sliding my cock inside her while she was still sleeping, waiting for her eyes to open so I could see her joy at feeling her son's cock inside her again. I needed to get Dad out of town. I had to sleep with Mom. I pulled my sweatpants up and kissed Mom on the back, between her open dress. 

"Tomorrow morning," I whispered.

I went to bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a huge hardon. I got up and wandered down the hall to find Mom and Dad's door closed. I pushed but it didn't budge. I pushed harder without further success. Had Mom jammed it with a door stop? Something was blocking it. I gave up and went back to bed.

In the morning, I found Dad alone in the kitchen, drinking his coffee and reading the Saturday paper. He looked up when I came in.

"It's Mother's day tomorrow."

"Yeah?" I responded, getting a bowl out of the cupboard.

"Yeah," Dad replied. "I want you to be extra nice to your mother today. You should braid her hair for her like she asked."

"I was going to do that anyway," I said, pouring some granola with raisins into the bowl.

"That's good. Make sure you tell her it looks great, no matter what."

"I will Dad," I assured him as I opened the fridge to get some milk.

Mom sauntered in while my head was buried in the fridge, saying good morning and adding, in an explanatory tone, "All my shorts are in the laundry."

I almost dropped the milk when I pulled my head out of the fridge. Dad was focused on the paper, spread flat on the table rather than held up with his face in it, and Mom was reaching up to get a box of cereal out of the cupboard above the counter behind me. She was wearing a short, light blue jean skirt with frayed edges. I mean short.

One foot lifted from the floor as Mom strained to reach the cereal, highlighting the muscles in her supporting leg. I didn't help her, I just straightened up and watched her, milk bottle in one hand, fridge door still open.

Mom turned around and took the milk from my hand. 

"Thanks," she said. 

She poured the cereal in a bowl, got a coffee, added milk to each, and walked outside to have her breakfast on the patio. Belatedly, I poured milk on my granola and put it away before joining Dad at the table.

"You should have said something about how nice she looks."

"What?" I looked at Dad, surprised.

"You should have said something about her legs."

"About Mom's legs?" I said, my voice rising an octave.

"Mm hmm. She does this every once in a while, usually just before her birthday or Mother's day, whenever she's feeling older."

My memory told me Dad was right but I hadn't really noticed it before. But things had changed.

"I've never heard her ..."

"Well, that because she says it to me. She gets all antsy but calms down after few compliments about her hair, or her legs. She works hard on both, you know."

Dad cleared his throat, then went on.

"Women need to feel men's attention though they often profess to spurn it. Your mother's not a buxom woman. A bigger woman would wear a revealing blouse. Women like your mother emphasize other things, like their hair or legs. They all have something and know how to use it, just to get a few glances, to let them know they still have it."

Dad cleared his throat again.

"Your mother has nice legs and hair, so you should say something about them."

Thus, my father imparted his wisdom about women to me. 

"But it'll sound weird coming from me," I argued.

"Won't matter," Dad changed to a new page. "A compliment's a compliment. Tell you what. I'll ask her to get my prescription filled and you take her down to the mall to the drug store. She's sure to get a few admiring looks in that skirt, and she'll feel save with you along."

When Mom came in the house, Dad talked her into getting his prescription but he wanted me to so I could check the oil in the car.

"Anyway," he added laughing, as if making joke, "I need someone to protect my interests if you're going to wear a skirt like that."

"I'll get changed then," Mom huffed.

"No no," Dad laughed. "Don't cover up those gorgeous legs. They're really something, aren't they son?"

"Uh yeah, Dad. They really are," I said awkwardly.

"They sure are and I want everyone to know what a lucky guy I am. But you be there to make sure no one bothers your mom."

"I will Dad."

Looking exasperated, Mom walked out of the house. I caught up and we drove to the mall where the closest drug store was located. I noticed that Mom had undone a couple of buttons on the jean shirt she wore to match her skirt, I suppose because it was hot outside in the sun, but she had forgotten to do them back up. I wasn't about to remind her, thinking her chest looked pretty good this morning. She must be wearing one of those push-up bras.

As we walked through the mall, Mom did garner a few looks from passing men but Mom ignored them and simply increased her business-like pace. She didn't do anything I could see to attract attention to herself. I guess she wasn't as keen to show off her wares as Dad thought. In the drug store, we walked straight to the back counter to place our order. There was one older man sitting in the little U-shaped waiting area, waiting for his prescription. His head rose when Mom walked by him and his eyes fixed on her bare legs and short skirt, landing on her ass. He didn't see me at first but only glanced away from Mom for a second when he did. He wasn't shy.

I sat in a chair opposite the old man and watched him look at Mom. I couldn't blame him, she did look sexy. After placing her order, Mom sat beside me, legs held demurely together. The old fella's eyes followed her all the way to her chair and locked onto her slender legs. 

"You've got a fan, just like Dad said," I whispered to Mom.

Mom nodded, seeming a bit annoyed.

"Poor old guy, probably doesn't get to look at legs like yours often," I said. "He probably has to rent dirty movies."

Mom laughed out loud. "No doubt," she said, looking at me, eyes sparkling. 

A funny look flashed over her face. She raised her right foot and crossed it over her left knee toward me, her eyes holding mine and she let her leg fall snugly onto the other. 

"Did your father say I should let the guys see what a lucky man he is?" she asked, eyes glinting.

I nodded and Mom raised her right leg and pulled it to the side until just its ankle was resting on the other knee, opening her thighs to provide a shocking view for the older man. Mom's eyes were intent on mine, as if she was unaware that the stranger must be able to see not just her legs but her panties too. She held that pose until the pharmacist approached the counter and called our name. 

The old fellow followed her legs all the way to the counter. I stood and walked over to stand by Mom, leaving a clear line of sight for the old guy. When the pharmacist took Mom's credit card to process it, I put my hand possessively on Mom's skirt, directly over her right buttock. 

In the car, Mom burst out laughing. "That was a riot," she roared, slapping her thighs and leaning back in the seat, covering her eyes with one hand. "Oh, I was so bad. I gave him such a view."

Mom opened her legs wide, replaying her saucy action. I looked down at her dark blue panties, covered with a lacy, flowered design. No wonder he hadn't looked away. The panties were molded to her prominent pussy mound so tightly that there was a distinctive line, slightly dipped in, marking the meeting of her pussy lips. 

Mom's laughing stopped and I was aware of her hand pulling away from her now questioning eyes. 

"Do you think he could see the pretty design?" I asked.

"You mean this one?" Mom opened her thighs wider and pulled her skirt higher.

"Yeah," my voice lowered to a husky whisper.

"I don't know. Can you see it from that far away?"

I leaned toward Mom, resting my elbow on the middle of the seat, twisting to get past the steering wheel. Mom shifted her hips so she was pointing more toward the middle of the car and pushed her left knee against the back of the seat.

"Is that some kind of flower?" I asked, leaning over, my face hovering above her thighs.

"Yes," Mom husked.

"What kind?" I stretched to get my face closer to her panties.

"Pussy willow," Mom panted.

"Aren't they soft?" I asked as Mom's fingers threaded through the hair on the back of my head.

"Yes."

I pushed Mom's left leg higher so I could get closer.

"Really soft?"

"See for yourself."

I stuck out my tongue and let it taste Mom's blue panties. Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling me closer, mashing my mouth against her panties. I pushed my tongue out as far as I could and dragged it up her pussy until it was flattened over her mound. I shook my head sideways and rubbed my tongue over her puffiness but soon traced a circular path around its edge, kind of like I was cranking a small engine ... spin ... pause ... spin ... pause. Mom's panties became wet from her juice and my saliva. My wiggling tongue had inserted itself between her lips, surrounding by my mouth, when she first cried out.

"Oh god. Michael, Michael," she cried, pulling me hard with her hand and thrusting her cunt against my face in a rapid series of facefucks. 

"Uhhh ... uhhhh ... unnnnghhhh ... unnngghhhh."

Her hand slowly loosened, allowing me to pull my head back. She was lying against the door, eyes closed, a sated expression on her. Cautiously, I raised my head a little higher and looked around over the seat and the dash and then behind me over the door. People were bustling around, to and from their cars, pushing carts, carrying packages ... all busy with what they were doing. Nobody was paying attention to us, even the person walking behind our car. I was glad now that I hadn't been able to park closer, though I'd been a little upset that we'd had to walk so far.

I looked down at Mom's still spread legs, thighs wide apart, skirt pushed to her hips, dark blue panties soaking wet. I pushed Mom's legs together and toward the front. She bent her knees and slumped in the seat to make it easier for me to turn her, or maybe because she wanted to slink down in the seat to hide since she kept her face tucked down, chin on her chest. 

At first, she didn't resist when I continued turning her, tugging her shoulders to twist her back toward me, but she did when I began pulling her down to the seat. 

"What are you doing?" her eyes opened as I pushed her shoulders to force her hips closer to the door.

"Shhhhh," I whispered, pushing her down, her head now lower than the back of the seat, hiding her presence to anyone that wasn't standing right beside us. Though she looked around, she didn't try to sit up and she lifted her hips and bent her legs so she could fit on the seat lying on her back.

"Michael, what are you ..."

"Shhhhh, Mom. Stay still."

Mom was craning her neck to look up and back at me as I lifted my right knee onto the seat, leaning over her. Comprehension formed on her face as she saw my open shorts. She shook her head.

"No Michael. No."

I pulled my jockeys down, letting my cock spring out, long and hard.

"People will see," Mom protested, her eyes almost crossed as they focused on the cock she had made so hard. 

"No they won't," I cried, the desperation clear in my voice as I hunched over her stomach, hiding below the seat and trying to angle my cock onto her mouth, my hand slipping under her neck and lifting slightly to tip her face my way. "Please," I gasped. "I need you."

Mom's head was still shaking but her hand suddenly appeared between us and grasped my cock. I almost let go at the touch of her soft fingers. I watched, looking along her denim shirt as her hand slowly pulled my stiff member down, toward her face, onto her lips. She paused there for a second, twisting her neck to brush her lips across the bottom of my tip, then arched her neck and pushed her head up, enveloping my cock in her soft warm mouth. 

"Ahhhhhhh," I cried, stunned by the exquisite feeling of her wet mouth pushing up my shaft, unable to restrain my hips from an answering shove. I pulled out and shoved in again, slowly.

"Ahhhhhhh, Mom ... fuck ... fuck," I cried, humping gently in and out of her mouth as she held her head twisted back at a constant angle to make it easier for me. 

I wish I could say I lasted a manly long time but that would be a lie. I didn't. Not much longer than it took to describe what happened, I unloaded a steady stream of cum into Mom's mouth, which closed tightly around my shaft, her body convulsing as she swallowed several times in quick succession as my fluid forced its way past her tonsils. I collapsed on top of her, my face falling between her legs, mouth pressed against her wet panties, nose aligned with her vertical crevice as my cock softened and eventually slipped from her face. Slowly, groggily, we struggled apart and sat up, each of us arranging our clothing properly, not looking at each other. 

After a few minutes, Mom looked at me and said, "We'd better get home. Dad will be waiting for his pills."

"Yeah," I replied, starting the car and backing out of our spot. As I drove out of the parking lot, I asked Mom, "What are the pills for anyway?" thinking I should talk about anything but what just happened.

"They help him calm down. The doctor told him months ago not to get too excited. He doesn't want you to know, that's why he wanted me to get the prescription."

"They're like a sedative?" I asked.

"Yes. He takes one a day during the week at work and an extra one at night. They help him sleep."

"They make him sleepy?"

"Yes."

"He doesn't take them at home on the weekends, except at night?"

"No. He only takes them in the day at work because of the stress."

"So he just wants these for tonight?"

"That's right."

"Can you put one in his lunch when we get home?"

There was a long pause. 

We were driving down the street now. I looked over at Mom. She was sitting slightly slumped, hands held together in her lap keeping her short jean skirt pushed between her thighs to cover her wet panties. 

"Will you give Dad a pill?" I repeated.

I was about to say it again, thinking she hadn't heard me, when she answered in a low voice.

"Yes."

Mom lifted her head then but she turned to look out the window. We drove home in silence. 

I tried to follow Mom up the walk but she was too quick and was already near the top of the stairs by the time I got through the door. Dad had just come into the kitchen from the backyard and glanced at Mom as she disappeared down the hallway, pulling a gardening glove off his hand. He shook his head and looked at me.

"I take it you weren't able to stave off the looky-loos."

"Just one old guy, Dad, but he was pretty persistent. Didn't say anything, but he kept staring."

"Yup," Dad said. "That would do it. That's part of the price when you have legs like that. She likes the admirers when she's in the mood for it but the oglers put her off."

"I don't think she's upset, Dad. The old guy didn't seem to bother her much. She just felt sorry for him."

"Oh?," Dad looked up the stairs again. "Then ...,"

"I think she spilled something on her skirt," I said, explaining her headlong rush upstairs.

"Oh. Well, let's you and I get lunch started."

We were busy in the kitchen mucking up lunch when Mom came in telling us to stop making a mess of everything and to go outside, that she'd bring lunch out into the yard when it was ready. I wanted to stay but she shooed me out the door with Dad but not before Dad said something about her spilling on herself, pointing at her skirt, adding that he wasn't the only one that made a mess of things. Mom just looked at him oddly as he made his escape while I paused to admire her new outfit, a light cotton, short-sleeved blouse tied under her breasts and a white, pleated tennis skirt not much longer than the jean skirt she'd worn this morning.

Talking to Dad, I kept wondering if Mom would remember about Dad's pill and whether or not she would actually give it to him. Her headlong rush up the stairs made me think she was having second thoughts. After all, that was a pretty wild and dangerous thing we'd done at the mall.

Lunch arrived on a big tray complete with tall glasses of fresh lemonade, a specialty of Mom's. I was thirsty and grabbed one as soon as Mom set the tray down despite Mom trying to bat my hand away. I took a big gulp and screwed my face up; it wasn't as sweet as usual. Mom noticed and took the glass from me, handing it to Dad.

"You got Dad's," she said, then explained, "I always put a little sugar in yours."

Lunch was alternating chit-chat and munching, almost all munching for me. The only interesting part was when Dad asked me if I was going to braid Mom's hair this afternoon. I nodded in affirmation but Mom said that was for tonight. That was a little disappointing. After a while, the chit-chat died down and we all sat enjoying the sun and sitting back in our chairs, Dad and I in the two, classic wooden seats joined by a mutually shared table while Mom sat across from us in the cushioned lounge. 

Part of the reason I had been quiet was the attraction of Mom's legs. I had grown ... perhaps a poor choice of words ... a new appreciation of Mom's legs after trailing around behind her in that jean skirt and this looser, pleated job had very real merits of its own. As Mom talked to Dad and nibbled on her sandwich, she pulled one leg up higher on the lounge, allowing me to see the back of that thigh. This was the view the old guy must have enjoyed. Despite the fact that I'd had my face buried right in there only an hour ago, the sight was still exciting. 

"Hmmm, I'm not as hungry as I thought I'd be," Dad commented, putting the last part of his sandwich down on his plate beside me. "Sorry dear," he apologized.

"Just drink your lemonade then. You don't want to get dehydrated in this sun."

Dad dutifully picked up his glass and took a huge drink, leaving less than an inch in the bottom, set it down and closed his eyes. "It's so beautiful out," he sighed. "Summer's been a long time coming this year."

Mom didn't answer. I expected her to stretch out and close her eyes too but she continued to watch Dad, a small smile on her face. 

I opened my mouth to speak, just to fill the void, but Mom waved me off, so I just sat back and waited. After a minute, I succumbed to the effect of the sun and closed my eyes too.

I opened my eyes with a start and tried to lift my head but it was too heavy. I must have dozed off because I had that feeling of waking from a deep sleep though my slitted eyes told me it couldn't have been more than a few minutes because Mom was still sitting in the lounge across from me. The only thing that was different was that she had kicked off her sandals and was propping both bent legs up with bare feet. It was very hot and still, except for the sound of birds singing and flitting through the trees.

Mom was looking at me now instead of Dad. I kept still, watching through slitted eyes to see if she knew I was awake but there was no indication. Her knees swayed from side to side, legs tightly together. Still, I could briefly see the backs of both thighs as her calves passed back and forth in front of them. It was several passes before my brain twigged to something my eyes must have noticed right away ... I couldn't see any panties. I should have been able to see them along the bottom of each leg, joining to form a strip to rise up and disappear between her thighs, but there was nothing. As I tried to strain my eyes to see better without opening them, Mom flattened her legs out and stretched them, tightly together, along the lounge. Bummer.
<hr pg="3" />I kept watching her, not moving a muscle because she was still looking my way. Her hands raised languidly above her chest, still resting on her elbows beside her, and began toying with the knot that tied her blouse together. Mom tugged at the ends and slowly, slowly, the knot loosened. I wanted to turn my head to see what Dad was doing. I knew he was there because I could see his feet at the bottom of my field of vision. He must have dozed off like I had but he had to be still out if Mom was doing this with me there. 

Mom must have put his pill in the lemonade. That would explain why I had conked out after taking a big drink of the glass Mom had explained wasn't mine. Would Dad wake up too? Should I warn Mom that I was awake? Mom finished undoing the knot and pulled her shirt apart. I decided to wait for a few more minutes.

Mom's fingertips trailed up her chest along the divide she had just opened in her blouse, widening the gap between the sides, reversing direction to travel back down, opening the blouse even further. She watched me as she repeated this twice more until her tits were bare, small swells of flesh rising from her chest capped by long and thick nipples. Mom smiled, then pulled her feet up and bent her knees, keeping her retracting legs out to the sides so my view of her breasts wasn't obscured. After pulling her feet up, pressed together sole to sole all the way to the bottom of her thighs, she slowly pushed them back, straightening her legs but this time letting her feet move apart, edging them part way down the sides of the lounge cushion. 

Mom's legs were open now and I could clearly see that she wasn't wearing any panties at all, her lightly haired muff plain to see, legs spread wide enough to open a pink slit between her nether lips. Her smile widened and I knew then she was aware that I was watching.

Just then, Dad snorted! Mom's legs snapped shut and her hands quickly pushed her blouse together as she sprung to a sitting position, pulling her legs up and crossing them to hide the position of her skirt. I could feel Dad moving on his side of our joined chair. I opened my eyes and sat up too, looking over at Dad, surprised to see his eyes still closed. He had only changed his position.

I looked at Mom. Our eyes met and we laughed, quietly, nervously. Mom looked like a cutout from an erotic fashion magazine. She was sitting hunched forward with her arms around her knees, lower legs held tightly together with one foot crossed over the other, and long reddish hair cascading over both arms and legs. Although you couldn't see it, you had the impression her shirt was open. 

One thing was open, though I don't think Mom knew it, especially given she was trying to cover up because she thought Dad was waking up. Her pussy. A thatch of hair was peeking out below her crossed ankles. Mom probably thought I was admiring her legs but it was her bare pussy that captured my attention. I remembered the feel of it on my tongue that afternoon, at least, the feel of it under her panties. And the smell. I could detect that faint aroma in the summer air. 

I looked back at Dad and then at the glass of lemonade beside him, reached over to grasp it and tipped it my way, pointedly looking at the bottom of the nearly empty glass. I looked back at Mom and she smiled, as if we were sharing a secret. I stood and stepped toward Mom until I was standing in front of the lounge she was sitting on. She turned up to look at me and I noticed her eyes fix briefly on the large bulge she had created under my shorts. I reached down to brush the hair away from her face.

I leaned over a bit so I could put my hands on her knees, applying gentle pressure to urge them apart. Slowly, Mom's arms loosened and fell away, allowing her knees to part, and then widen. I spread them further and further until her shirt fell open, exposing her tits, but my eyes traveled down, past her open shirt to the bare pussy they had been loving before Dad's precipitous snort. Mom's eyes, still looking at me, knew what mine were looking at. 

I shuffled closer, almost touching her with my bulging shorts. Eyes staying on mine, Mom's fingers found the front of my thighs and slid up, lightly brushing over my lump, and released my cock from its prison, laughing as it sprang free and capturing it in her delicate little hand. She tipped her head back further and laid my bare cock on her upturned face, across her lips and along her nose, using her soft fingers to press it against her flaring nostrils, rubbing it back and forth. 

I grabbed a handful of hair on either side of Mom's face and walked slowly forward, legs wide and waddling up the side of the lounge, leaning Mom back and following her down, keeping my cock on her face. Her eyes laughed at me all the way until her back was pressed against the slightly raised lounge cushion. That's when I drew back until my cock head rested on her lips and she opened her mouth, inviting me inside. I slid home.

Oh god, that wonderful mouth of hers. Such an incredible feeling. Mom didn't close her eyes. I could see she loved what she was doing to me, so apparent in the almost pained ecstasy etched on my face. I began to move. Hardly at all, at first, but then more and more, eventually pushing too much inside so that she gagged and I had to pause while she recovered, waving that she was ok and pulling my cock back in when she was ready.

My thighs burned with the strain of squatting over her like that, dipping my cock in for a dozen thrusts and then waiting while she coughed. Her mouth became wetter and wetter and the gag pauses less frequent, farther apart, until I was steadily fucking her mouth. I remember thinking that this was what heaven must be like, and that made me think about how natural this was. In medieval times, in small rural villages or out on the farms, this must have been common. After a day in the fields, the older son must have been allowed to have a turn with what may have been the only pussy around. This wasn't wrong, I thought as my cock squelched in and out of Mom's saliva-filled mouth. And it was my right.

That spiritual revelation triggered a religious experience. I began spewing my seed into Mom's mouth which, already half filled with saliva and cock, quickly overflowed, spilling out over her lips and running down her cheeks and chin. I pulled out, afraid of drowning her, and let the last couple of strings burst over her face, though thankfully not in her precious hair.

Mom struggled to swallow but she did manage it. She spoke to me then, but not angrily like I had expected. I leaned down to hear her better.

"Lick it off," she said. Though confused at first, I quickly realized what she wanted and proceeded to lick my own cum off Mom's face, depositing it into her open mouth. I could scrape it up with my tongue but I couldn't bring myself to swallow it. I licked her face until it was clean, pushing my tongue in her mouth for longer and longer kisses but she pushed me away.

Or, should I say, down. Mom's hands pressed on my shoulders, guiding me. If that wasn't signal enough, she provided further direction.

"My turn," she whispered hoarsely.

I obliged. I pushed her skirt up high and buried my face between her legs, stretching my feet out behind me and onto the patio. I didn't waste time, I dug my tongue into her cunt, vigorously wiggling it around, then pulled out and lapped her all around her lips and up and down her slit, then dug in for some more. I kept doing that for a long time, until her legs were writhing and her hands clutched my head in a vice grip. Then I pulled my face up and started gently teasing her clit, licking gently, nibbling and tugging with my lips, licking again, pushing my fingers inside her pussy, finding the pink hole and slowly finger grinding her while I teased the living fuck out of her clit. 

I was pleased that she didn't last any longer than I did and I learned how erotic it was for her to let me come on her face and then feel me lick myself off of her, learned by her drenching my face and then pulling me up to lick herself from me with her teasing little tongue. 

We were relieved to find Dad still out when we finally remembered he was behind us. Mom told me to go upstairs and she would wake him. I held her for one last kiss, standing behind Dad's chair, my hand reaching down to cup her bare ass under her skirt, fingers pushing between her cheeks and reaching down for her pussy but only managing to rub over her asshole. 

"I need to fuck you," I rasped desperately in her ear.

"No," she gasped, pushing me away hard. "That's for night time."

Reluctantly, I went. I was pleased with the new division of day and night time activities. My young cock was already stirring as my thoughts turned toward the evening. Another night away from my friends. I was turning into a real momma's boy.



