Eye of the Appreciator
Mother enjoys being appreciated by her son.
Part 1

Art has been a hobby of mine since I was a child. I guess drawing and painting comes naturally to a man when he is a connoisseur of beauty. I've always been a visual person and everywhere I look I see the scene before me transforming into a sketch or a painting. The ugliness fades away and even the homeliest of scenes can become beautiful in my mind's eye, or in my sketchbook. I can often conjure up images in my mind of people I've met or scenes that I saw earlier that day while walking down city streets. These memories serve as inspiration for me when I draw later that evening.

I don't go anywhere without my sketchbook. Anytime I have a free moment I pull it out and start drawing. I work on one book until it's full, then get another. I can go back through the years looking at all the books I've kept since childhood when my mother gave me my first as a gift. That way I can see how my style and interest has evolved over the years. At times I've drawn buildings and city-scapes and other times I've drawn comics. But lately I've been interested in drawing human anatomy. I suppose I'm always eager for a challenge of any kind and drawing the human figure is something that's always eluded me.

At first, the people I drew would come out wonky, disproportional, or ugly. Their hands and feet would look morphed or twisted into impossible positions and their faces looked harsh and alien. That has changed over time, but I still need practice. These days I am trying to draw live models more often. I even go to drawing classes where live models pose for the students, usually in the nude. I like these classes a lot, especially when the model is cute.

Helping me to find a passion at such a young age is something I've got to thank my mother, Maria, for. She encouraged me to work on art when I was a kid and would often get me whatever art and painting supplies I needed. We were really close back then, but that changed as I grew older. During my teenage years we fought a lot. It was mostly over the usual teenage stuff — me wanting more freedom and privacy or to go out to more parties. I was never in trouble for anything serious, but the school principal had to call home a few times when I acted up in class, which my mother was not happy about. Our fighting changed things between us and I pulled away from her and also from my father, although I had never been close to him.

My father didn't show much emotion or affection and I had been used to his coldness since childhood. Come to think of it, my parents made a pretty strange match — she a warm, loving woman, and he a distant workaholic. Anyway, I think those years of separation contributed to her mood because she started to seem more withdrawn into herself, almost like she carried a melancholic aura.

My mother is a shy and gentle woman. When people meet her they come away feeling refreshed and like they've been exposed to a source of free-spirit and non-judgemental energy, though others might find her naive. She's the kind of person who wouldn't judge anybody for how they lived, no matter how strange it was. She just accepted people. She always taught me to be the same way, accepting of people and emotions. She certainly isn't an aggressive person, but she carries herself with a quiet defiance that leaves people sensing her open nature. And yet, she often wore a look of mysterious contemplation and you were never quite sure what she was thinking.

Mom never worked and always enjoyed staying home to keep the house, a task she took immense pride in. Our home was always immaculate. For many years, she derived her purpose in raising me — her only child. Being from a conservative culture, Mom and Dad married young and had me quickly. Now that I'm nearly 20 years old, working full-time, and preparing to move out in a few short months, she feels a bit withdrawn. She's certainly not depressed, just different.

She continues to keep the house clean, vacuum daily, and cook for Dad and I, but there is something missing. Nowadays, she spends her time sitting on the couch flipping through magazines. Sometimes I notice a distant look on her face, like her mind is miles away.

I'm not sure what changed, maybe it's just what time does to a woman when her child grows up. As far as I know, her marriage with Dad is okay. At least, it's the same as it's always been. He still gives her the same robotic kiss on the cheek each morning when he leaves for work, but that distant look remains on Mom's face.

A few years ago, when I was in the middle of my rebellious phase and usually bickering with her over one thing or another I couldn't have cared less how she felt or how sad she looked. But lately things have been different. Nowadays, I hate seeing that look on her face. It's weird to admit, but I want my mom to be happy. I guess I'm growing up.

One Saturday afternoon I was home alone with her. Dad had kissed Mom's cheek like normal that afternoon after lunch as he left, muttering something like, "I'll probably be late tonight, we're going for drinks after the golf game. Don't wait up for me." Then headed out the door without waiting for a response.

"Alright, dear," she had quietly said while he was too far away to have even heard.

I myself had retreated to my bedroom in the basement to play video games but grew bored after a few hours. I had a nagging thought in my mind and I decided to go see what Mom was doing. It was weird behavior for me considering how I had purposefully avoided her for the past 3 years. Do I miss her? I wondered. Whatever. I wasn't one for introspection of my feelings. I went upstairs to find Mom.

Our house is a single-story with a full-sized basement. It's not big, but it's perfect for the three of us. The basement consists of a large, unfinished laundry and storage room with my bedroom in the corner. On the main floor is the kitchen, living room, and my parents' bedroom, which, thankfully, is located at the opposite corner of the house.

Our rooms being far apart means that, as long as I keep my door closed, I can watch movies as loud as I want during the night and they don't hear a thing. The house is decorated beautifully, thanks to Mom. She gave each room its own personality. The kitchen is practical and minimalistic, while the living room is quite the opposite. A large L-shaped couch sits in the corner around a big square wooden coffee table. There are a dozen, or so, plants and candles laying around and large draping white curtains over the windows. There is a large mirror and a few lamps, which my mom uses to create a warm mood in the evenings.

There is no TV in the living room. Mom insisted it be a wholesome place to relax, talk, or read — nothing more. I don't think Dad is a big fan of that policy but he seems content to watch sports in the bedroom most nights.

Rounding the corner above the stairs, I saw Mom sitting on the couch. Her shoulder-length brown hair sat lightly on the back of the couch. She was flipping through a magazine. Probably something about fashion or interior-design. She wore that distant, almost disappointed look again. The one I was starting to hate. Why did I care so much?

I leaned against the wall and looked at her for a few moments before continuing to the kitchen. As I passed she looked up at me for a brief moment, raising her eyebrows. "So Tyson has emerged from his cave?"

"Mmhmm," I murmured.

In the kitchen I brewed a pot of green tea, then brought two cups out with me and set them on the big table in front of the couch along with a couple of cookies.

"Here, Mom," I said, sitting down beside her. "Mind if I join you?" I pulled out my sketchbook.

"Not at all, honey, I'm glad to have you here. Besides, I need to soak up all the time I have left with you before you take off and move out, Mister." She gently teased.

She had been making comments like that a lot lately, masking them in joke, but I knew there was a deeper meaning beneath. She really would miss me.

It was a bit awkward just sitting with Mom. It felt abnormal. But I settled in and started drawing the room around us, the plant on the table, the lamp in the corner, the curtain-covered window and the chair on the other side of the room. While I drew we made small talk. The conversation came surprisingly easily.

Every once-in-a-while I would look over at my mother. She had put her legs up on the table and was still absently flipping pages while sipping her coffee. Occasionally she paused on a page to admire a certain dress or decoration style.

After about 15 minutes, Mom pulled one of her feet from the table and tucked it against her butt on the couch while leaving the other extended. I think she had just got back from a run and was yet to change. She was wearing tight, black workout shorts and a white top. The entire outfit showed off her body wonderfully. Paying attention to her left leg, the one she'd pulled into the couch, I noticed the definition in her calf muscle. She had been exercising most of her life and it had paid off. Her legs looked smooth and recently shaved. Mom really did take care of herself. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head.

"Hey Mom, can I draw you?" I asked her.

"Pardon me?"

"Let me draw you, Mom."

"Draw me? Are you kidding?" She responded, sounding hesitant even though the corners of her mouth tilted up slightly as she considered the idea.

"Yeah, I mean... I need to practice drawing the human body and you're here, so... why don't you be my model?"

"Um... I suppose so. How do you want me to sit?" She asked.

"Just stay exactly where you are now. You look great just like that, Mom."

I turned and leaned on the arm of the couch so that I was looking directly at her. She looked back at me a bit awkwardly, like she didn't know how to pose or what she should be doing.

"Just keep reading like normal, Mom," I encouraged her, putting her at ease. "And keep your left leg bent on the couch."

She did as I said and seemed to relax, then I got to work.

We continued chatting and making small talk as I sketched. For some reason I felt that this was important and put extra effort into it. I didn't spend much time on her face — only drawing quick hints of her nose, mouth, and dark eyes. But I put extra effort into her body, especially her legs. I was thankful for the excuse to stare at them for so long.

The drawing was turning out great. I captured the tone of her legs, the curve of her thighs and hips, and her belly leading into the swells of her breasts. It felt a bit odd concentrating on and drawing my mother's body that way, especially her boobs, but I pushed through the discomfort and ended up really enjoying having the chance to ogle Mom. I even slightly exaggerated the size of her breasts to make her look extra sexy. That was becoming a habit when I drew women.

When she looked at my drawing her eyes went wide and a giant smile appeared on her face. She stared for several moments and then turned to me, her eyes twinkling. "It's lovely, honey."

I set my sketchbook on the coffee table open to her drawing as we finished visiting. Some ice had definitely been broken between us and the conversation started to flow more and more. I noticed that every minute, or so, Mom's eyes would glance down at the drawing and she would look at it, no, gaze at it for a few moments. Then she'd smile and take a sip of tea. She looked... happy. Mission accomplished.

Eventually she told me she needed to get some groceries before dinner, inviting me to come shopping. When I declined she leaned over to me, and for the first time since I can remember, gave me a wet kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks for making me feel beautiful, Ty."

I watched her ass intently in her tight shorts as she walked away, not realizing that she could see me in the mirror on the far wall. Maybe it was my imagination, but she seemed to be giving her hips a little extra swing on her way to her bedroom.

---

Dad ended up getting home from his golf game around 8 o'clock and the three of us sat down for a family dinner — something we did frequently at Mom's insistence. Being in a small house without much space, we usually ate at a small dining table in the kitchen. I sometimes asked if we could eat in the more spacious living room, but Mom shut that idea down instantly. She had firm rules about what was and wasn't allowed in her house.

Our kitchen had both white walls and a white stone counter top. Everything was white except for the gray metal appliances. The counter was U-shaped with a sink in the very middle of the end and a window above it giving a view of the front driveway.

As usual, Dad more-or-less yammered on about his day and how well he had golfed. I hadn't really noticed this before, but he didn't ask Mom a single question about her day. In fact, I don't think he ever did. But, nevertheless, Mom smiled and listened to him brag. When his beer was empty she stood up and dutifully got him another.

I'm not sure if it was accidental because our kitchen is a bit cramped, but as she passed behind my chair to get back to her seat her left hand slid lightly across my shoulders and upper back. I glanced up from my plate to see her looking at me. We made eye contact and she smiled before turning back to my dad. Given the way our relationship had gone for the last few years, moments like that had been rare.

Dad finished three beers before he was done regaling us with tales of his greatness on the course. Then he announced that he was going to bed to watch sports. "See you in the morning, kid!" He slapped me on the arm on his way out of the kitchen.

By then Mom was already cleaning up and doing the dishes. I watched her for a minute from my seat at the table. She had changed her clothes since our interaction that afternoon and now wore a green house dress which came down to just above her knees. The top of the dress had thin straps and showed a lot of skin on her shoulders. The fabric was tight against her hips and for the second time that day I got a chance to admire her butt as she faced the sink and began scrubbing a pot. Suddenly it dawned on me that she took a lot of pride in taking care of, not only her home, but also herself. How had I never noticed that before?

I thought about a few of my buddy's moms. Yeah, some of them had nice faces, but most had really let their bodies go. Plus, they always seemed to be wearing old, loose-fitting clothes, as if they didn't care so much how they looked. Not like my mom, who often wore clean and pressed dresses and did her hair, even when home alone. Not to mention the fact that my friends' houses were usually messy, with stacks of dishes in the sink and piles of laundry laying around. Suddenly I realized that I was a pretty lucky guy.

Standing, I approached and stood beside her. I picked up a dish towel and started drying the plates she'd already cleaned.

"Well this is a first. Since when do you do dishes?" she asked.

"I guess I'm in a good mood," I responded.

I helped her for a few more minutes and then said, "why don't you go relax in the living room, Mom? I'll take care of the kitchen."

"Okay, now I'm curious. Are you about to ask me to buy you a car or something?"

I laughed, "No, Mom. Just trying to help out. Seriously, go relax."

"Okay, sweetie. Thank you." She put her hand on my bicep and gave it a squeeze before going into the living room.

I finished up and started heading down to my room. I really wanted to beat the next level of my video game.

I had to pass through the living room to get to the stairs and while walking behind the couch Mom said, "Tyson, could you make me a cup of tea?"

I stopped. "Sure, no problem," I replied, turning back toward the kitchen.

Then Mom added, "Why don't you make one for yourself, as well? And visit with me a bit?"

I thought. If I took Mom up on her offer to visit I could check out her legs a bit more! My video game wasn't going anywhere. Shrugging, I responded, "okay, just give me a minute to get the tea ready."

I returned to the kitchen and prepared a pot of loose-leaf green tea — the kind Mom often drank. I put a few cups with the pot on a tray and carried it out to her, setting it on the coffee table. I had even put a couple of cookies on the tray as an added touch.

"Ooo, thanks, Mister Fancy," She teased.

We chatted for a few minutes about this-and-that while waiting for the tea to cool. She seemed to be in a much better mood than she had been in the morning. I guess a little bit of appreciation goes a long way for a woman. It made me feel good to know that I had the power to cheer her up.

"So, are you going to get your sketchbook?"

"Huh?" I responded dumbly.

"You're always drawing in it. If you were down in your dungeon you'd probably be drawing right now, wouldn't you? So go grab and it and bring it here."

"Um, alright." I ran downstairs and returned a minute later with my book and a few pens.

By then the tea had cooled enough and Mom began to sip hers. She took out another one of her chick magazines and started to flip through it, pausing to admire a picture of some garden.

I opened my book to a page close to the front. A large Mandala that I'd been working on for a few days. I didn't need a reference to keep working on it. It was just a big symmetrical, circular design which I was going to continue adding to until it grew to the edge of the page. Traditionally, monks would create Mandalas out of colored sand over the course of days and then destroy them after they were finished. It was a lesson in the impermanence of all things, meant to teach one not to hold onto anything too tightly. If you asked me, it seemed like a waste of time to make a cool piece of art and then destroy it. I had no plans to rip out and burn this page. I guess I prefer holding on to beautiful things — maybe even keep continuing to build on them forever. Once I get my hands on something important to me, I'll never let it go.

We sat together in comfortable silence for about 15 minutes while finishing our tea — her reading and me drawing. We had never just sat together like this before today. It was weird but comfortable at the same time, like we were establishing a new basis to our relationship.

Then Mom brought her feet up from the floor and rested them on the edge of the table, flexing her toes back-and-forth a few times. I couldn't help but stare at the smooth white skin of her legs. After raising her knees a bit her dress slid a few inches up her thighs, letting me see a little higher up her leg. I stopped my doodling.

Without saying anything, I flipped to the page I'd drawn on earlier that day and started a new sketch of my mother. I started by outlining her shoulders and upper-body so that I could continue downward toward her waist, hips, and legs. I wanted to make sure that I had everything in the right place before adding any details. After structuring her body, I went back to her shoulders and started to outline her head and face. First, I put down a bold outline for the far side of her face, curving it outward over her cheekbone and then back in toward her eye. The closer side of her face was framed by her hair hanging down across it and stopping at her shoulders.

As I drew her hairline, she brought her left hand up to her head and brushed the hair back behind her ear. Then she picked up a few strands and twirled them before letting her hand rest on the magazine again. The tiniest grin formed at the corners of her mouth.

After drawing her now visible ear and getting the bold boundary lines on the paper, I drew the softer features of her face. I started with her small nose, drawing a slightly upward pointing base and then following the bridge as it curved and became her far eye brow. After her nose I drew her lips, slightly exaggerating the fullness of them, though they didn't need much. It's good to compliment your model. Finally, her eyes. I wasn't able to capture their true intensity, but I gave it a good shot. I don't think I'd ever paid that much attention to all of the details of my mother's face and body. I could have closed my eyes and still seen her sitting beside me, like a photo in my mind. It felt like a one-sided type of intimacy.
If Mom noticed how often I was now glancing over at her, she didn't give any sign.

I then started to darken a few of the lines and add some tone and texture. Since I drew mostly with pens I was pretty good at cross-hatching the darker areas to create a smooth range of values and a sense of depth. I didn't need to look over at her quite as much for this part.

While I worked, I noticed Mom's hand drop away from her magazine and land on her thigh. Then her fingers started to play with the hem of her dress. Her feet were still on the edge of the coffee table, so her dress was in a position to slide farther up her legs with only the slightest tug. As Mom played with her dress, she bunched it up a little bit and tugged it toward her palm. This movement revealed a few more inches of her smooth thighs to me.

My drawing slowed down as I became transfixed on the show she was giving me. Every few minutes she'd drag her dress another inch up her thighs. I started to stiffen in my pants as I watched her fingers crawling along the fabric. Would she drag it any higher? I could already see the pale swells of her inner thighs. Just a little more and I be might able to see her panties!

"So are you going to let me see this masterpiece, or what?" My hypnosis broke at the sudden question.

Mom still hadn't turned her head and was looking at the magazine in her lap.

"You sure you want to see it?"

"Oh don't be a tease. Show me," she insisted.

I handed my book to her.

Her eyes widened slightly and after a moment a big smile broke out across her face. I had put a lot more detail and effort into this drawing and she really did look great in it.

Finally she turned her head to face me. She gave me what felt more like a look at admiration. "How on Earth did you learn to draw like this?"

"It helps when you have some inspiration," I said as I lightly poked her shoulder.

"Oh, cut it out." She teased back.

I felt strangely brave in that moment and started to softly play with her hair while we sat together. She continued looking at the drawing, obviously enjoying herself, and I brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear before letting my hand fall to her shoulder and lightly stroke the skin of her upper back. My cock stiffened at the intimacy between us.

I noticed Mom starting to squirm a little and she closed my sketchbook, setting it on the table in front of her. Then, to my disappointment, she straightened out her dress, covering those beautiful, milky-white thighs.

I had turned toward her and brought my right leg sideways onto the couch between us so that I could easily face her. When you put a lot of effort into drawing somebody, you become hyper aware of how they look. I continued lightly rubbing her shoulder and the side of her arm with the backs of my fingers, admiring her, while taking note of every little freckle and curve on her.

Mom had closed her eyes and stiffened slightly, but seemed to be enjoying my touches, at least accepting them.

Finally, she faced me and, dropping her hand onto my right thigh, said, "sweetie, I need to go to bed now."

I held her gaze and brushed some hair behind her ear. "Are you sure?" I asked softly. "We could stay up a little longer."

Her hips squirmed again and she bit her lip. "No, not tonight. I... have to go... to bed." She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks for appreciating me," she whispered.

As she pulled away I, emboldened once again, gripped her forearm and gently tugged her back down toward me. Then, before she could object, I kissed her on the corner of her mouth, just close enough to feel the moisture. Our eyes met for a split second and I kissed her again, this time directly on her lips. It was just a peck, but it felt momentous.

Mom's face reddened and she smoothed her skirt once more while casting her gaze downward. "Goodnight, sweetie," she said as she turned and walked to her bedroom.

Again, I stared at her ass in the lamplight as she walked away. A sense of determination began to form in my mind. I've got to see what's under that dress!

---

What man would have been able to sleep after an evening like that? I lay awake for half the night, images of the gorgeous woman upstairs flashing through my mind. Every inch of her skin and curve of her womanly figure visible in my mind like a crystal clear photo. I was rock hard as I tossed and turned, remembering the feel of Mom's lips. Images began to fly through my mind. My mother making out with me, me taking her dress off, sliding my hand up her torso and over her bare tits, pulling her panties down...

After laying awake for a couple of hours, I got up to get a drink of water. As I was walking through the laundry room to the stairs I heard some muffled voices through the vent in the corner. I'd noticed before that I could hear my parents in their room if I stood under that vent but I'd always just ignored it. This time, though, I was curious. I stopped and listened.

I couldn't understand everything that was said, but it sounded like an argument, that much was obvious. What could they be fighting about? Mom was probably annoyed with Dad for playing golf so much and for always drinking so many beers.

I walked a little closer to the vent in the ceiling and after angling my ear toward it, I could just barely make out some words.

"It's been a long day, Maria, I'm tired. Let me sleep."

"You always say that, Rick" My mother's voice was short and stern, a tone reserved for rare moments.

There was a pause before she spoke again, matter-of-fatly. "It's been a long time."

Another pause. Then, "Goodnight, Maria, I'm not talking about this anymore."

Then, silence.

What had all that been about? Was my mother trying to have sex? I guess my dad doesn't touch her like that anymore. What the hell is wrong with him? Is he gay or something?

After getting my water, I returned to bed, continuing to think about what I'd heard. Dad doesn't appreciate Mom anymore? No wonder she seems sad. I wonder how long it's been since they've fucked. Months? Years? With a woman like that? Impossible.

My thoughts started to become more clear and a plan took shape. I finally drifted off to sleep as the possibilities flooded my mind.

---

I wasn't able to get any alone time with Mom the next day as it was Sunday and Dad had stayed home all day. Mom actually seemed a bit grumpy. Is it because of their fight the night before? I mostly tried to stay out of the way and be a little helpful around the house, cleaning up the kitchen again after lunch and also mowing the lawn.

I work a regular 9-5 job during the week, so weekday afternoons were also a right-off in terms of getting Mom alone again. That just left evenings. On Monday night I had a martial arts class and by the time I got home Mom had already gone to bed. Damn.

On Tuesday night Mom went to a pottery class and didn't get home until about 9:30 PM. When she walked in the front door, Dad was already in his room and I was waiting up in the living room, reading a book. I greeted her and offered to make tea again, like the other night. She bit her lip and thought for a moment before declining, saying that she needed to go to bed early again.

Dismayed, I didn't try again for the rest of the week. I just fell back into my normal routine of going down to my room after dinner to draw or play video games. By Friday night I felt that whatever connection we had made the previous Saturday had faded away and things were normal again. But I sure as hell continued checking her out every time I got the chance.

---

The next Saturday came and Dad left for his weekly golf game after lunch, muttering a half-assed goodbye on his way out the door. Mom didn't even look up from her magazine as he left. There was a serious coldness between my parents. Have they been fighting all week? I wondered if I could use that to my advantage...

I was about to offer Mom a cup of tea when she said, "I'm going out for a while to meet a few friends." She stood up, kissed me on the cheek and was gone.

Damn, I thought. My chance to try something again was gone just like that. I had waited all week!

When I heard the front door opening later that afternoon I crossed my fingers that it was Mom and not Dad coming home and went upstairs.

I found her in the kitchen washing her hands in the sink and approached her from behind. Motivated by the week of starvation and emboldened by the knowledge that we were home alone, I placed my hands on her shoulders and let them slide down her arms softly.

"How was your visit?" I asked.

Mom looked forward out the window as I continued to gently touch her. "It was nice, honey. I like getting together with the ladies." She seemed a bit more cheerful. Seeing the girls must have let her relax a bit and release the stress of fighting with her husband all week.

"Go sit in the living room and I'll make us some tea." I decided to be commanding. Asking hadn't worked.

Mom turned and rested her butt against the counter, facing me as I stood just a foot away from her. Her hands fell to the counter on either side of her hips to support her as I continued lightly stroking up and down her arms, just looking at her.

"Don't you have anything better to do than spend another Saturday afternoon with your Mom?"

"Hell, no." I said.

"Don't talk like that, Tyson," She chastised me, suddenly serious.

"Besides," I ignored her scolding, "I'll be moving out soon and we may not have so much time together after that." Could I leverage her anxiety about me leaving the nest?

The confliction in her was obvious, her emotions painted all over her face. She sensed that we were on the verge of doing something taboo yet also longed to be closer to her only son.

"Alright," she agreed after a few long moments had passed.

By now, my roaming fingers had found their way from her arms to the sides of her torso and were well on their way to the flare of her hips. She grasped my hands in hers and brought them forward between us as she squeezed beside me and made her way to the living room.

"I'll be waiting," she said softly.

I took my time preparing the tea. There was no rush. I brewed it perfectly.

Coming out of the kitchen a few minutes later, I set the tray on the coffee table. Mom was relaxing on the couch in her normal position, already flipping through a magazine.

We sat in silence for a few minutes while she flipped through her magazine. Today she was wearing tight blue jeans with a black belt and a white blouse tucked in and buttoned all the way up to her neck. A real classy outfit. The blouse was a bit loose everywhere except for her shapely bust, which filled it out nicely.

"So are you going to go get your sketchbook?" Mom asked without looking up from her magazine.

Of course, you idiot! She wants you to draw her again! I quickly bounded down stairs to retrieve my book. If I did a good job, I bet I could touch her some more.

When I got back upstairs and sat down I noticed that the top couple of buttons of her blouse were now undone.

"So, how do you want me to pose today?" she asked.

Her tone carried a hint of submission. Be confident, I thought. She wants you to be the leader.

"Sit in that chair over there, and cross your legs. Just keep reading."

Mom obediently stood and walked to the other corner of the room, sitting in the armchair.

I began to draw. This sketch was going to make her look dignified. I drew for about 15 minutes before speaking to her again, still using the tone that she seemed to react well to.

"Now put down the magazine and look out the window. And uncross your legs."

She did as I said and I began the second drawing of the day, finishing it in only 10 minutes. It depicted an elegant and proud woman, gazing to the side into the light source with a high-held chin and knees comfortably spread apart.

"Now look at me, Mom. And rest your chin on your hand."

Again she did as she was told, propping her elbow up on her knee to cradle her head in her palm. She looked right into my eyes, smiling and blushing. What a natural beauty!

My third drawing was quicker, just a rough portrait capturing her facial features. I used light lines to quickly box in the major parts of her face, then shaded with cross-hatches to suggest some form. I used a full range of values to really give the drawing depth. The shadows surrounding her dark eyes became deep black while the bright highlights on her forehead and cheekbones remained white. I was proud of myself for capturing the intensity and mystery of her eyes as they remained transfixed on me. What kind of woman will I find hiding behind those portals?

After only five minutes I gave her another instruction. "Stand up and come a little closer."

She obeyed.

"Undo a couple buttons on your blouse."

She hesitated for a few seconds, biting her lip as if she were deep in thought. Then, she released her bite as if she had made a decision. Her left hand crept up her torso and undid a single button, showing a bit more cleavage then before. She dropped her hand back to her side.

"Another one."

Her breath caught in her throat for a second, but she quickly brought her hand back up to undo a second button. Now she was truly showing some skin, the weight of her bust spreading her blouse apart and threatening to rip off the next button. Christ, this woman has a beautiful body! How did I never notice?

"Now cross your arms behind your back and look over your left shoulder."

She did as she was told and was now standing with her body facing me, while showing me the profile of her face. I had a nice view of her shapely legs and hips, and of her newly exposed cleavage which was jutting forward due to the twist of her upper body.

"Is this how you want me?" She asked, shyly.

"Yeah, Mom. That's perfect. Your body looks great."

"It does?" It sounded odd, her asking for reassurance.

"Hell, yes, Mom."

"Don't talk like that." This time her scolding came with a smirk.

I started to draw, spending between five and ten minutes making sure to capture all the curves of her female anatomy.

Things were going so smoothly between us. Keep pushing, I thought. Keep the momentum. Setting my book down on the couch, I stood and approached her.

"I'd like you to stand a bit more like this..." I placed my hands on her shoulders and straightened out her upper body. Her breath seemed a bit ragged and she inhaled sharply as I placed my hand on her low back, guiding her to a new position. I continued touching her far longer than was necessary and even let my hand slide over her hip and the side of her buttock when I was finished. Mom tensed a bit, but made no comment about my shameless exploring.

Returning to my seat on the couch, I drew another quick five minute sketch. I then stood again and moved my mannequin into another new position. This time I put her hands on her knees and turned her to the side. I placed my hands on both her low back and her belly, squeezing them together slightly to control her torso and put her back into a straight position. Boldly, I let my fingers graze her hanging breasts while pulling my hand from her front side. This time, she said something.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Mhmm."

"Okay, but don't get too frisky," she lightly chastised.

"Alright, Mom."

She had communicated her limit and I would respect it. Reel it in a bit, don't scare her off.

From then on, each sketch lasted five minutes at the most. I wasn't going to waste time drawing when I could be touching. Between each position I gently moved her into the next pose but I didn't let my fingers get away from me.

We continued chatting while I drew. Mom loosened up completely, smiling and laughing as I gently teased her. I loved seeing this new side of her.

Over the course of about an hour, I filled up four pages in my sketchbook. At this point, Mom was beginning to tire and her blouse was becoming sweaty from the effort of holding the poses. I told her to sit down on the couch while I got her something to drink.

I returned from the kitchen a minute later, after cleaning up the tray of tea cups, to see Mom already flipping through the drawings, smiling broadly. I joined her on the couch, setting her glass of water in front of her.

I sat next to her and enjoyed the fruits of my labor, watching her grin and beam as she flipped through the drawings.

When she saw one she liked she excitedly shifted closer to me and pointed to it. "I love this!"

Her left leg was now pressed against me as she nuzzled closer. The contact between us felt electric. I had already been semi-stiff the whole time she was posing, but now the scent of her hair and closeness of her body sent my prick into launch position.

She set the book on our legs, one side on each of us. As she flipped through the pages, seemingly enamored by how beautifully I had depicted her, I began to slowly rub the side of her arm and play with her hair. My touches started fairly innocuously, but within a minute they became more suggestive, tender, loving even. Any doubts as to my intentions were rapidly evaporating, but Mom made no attempt to chastise me again.

"How do the drawings make you feel, Mom?" I asked.

I began touching her back more firmly now. Rubbing with my open hand rather than just grazing with my fingertips as I had before. I brought my hand up near her neck and kneaded the soft flesh in a suggestive way. Earlier, I had appreciated her with my eyes and my pen, and now I was doing the same with my hands. I was going to take full advantage of the permission she had given me. My cock throbbed as I lightly played with her hair.

"They're beautiful. Nobody... nobody had ever drawn me before you did. Is this really how you see me? I had no idea that I looked like this."

My ministrations were either approved of or unnoticed because I received no complaint when I continued to softly attend to my mother, now rubbing my finger tips along her throat and the skin of her upper chest.

She turned and girlishly pecked me once on the cheek.

I just smiled at her, letting her spend another minute looking at the pages before whispering in her ear, "do you like them, Mom? The ones that show off your body?"

By answering me, she would be acknowledging that part of what she had been doing was more than mere modeling. To drop that pretense, that layer of security, was a big step to ask of Mom. And I gave her the time she needed to respond.

"Yes," she whispered back, barely audible.

This time, I kissed her cheek. It wasn't a peck.

Mom flushed, goosebumps appearing on her exposed chest as she took long, deep breaths.

Slow it down a bit. Don't rush her.

Sliding away from her ever-so-slightly, I brought my left hand to the sketchbook in her lap and began pointing to various parts of the drawings while talking a bit about how I drew them. I talked about some of the less erogenous parts of her, the elbows, fingers, knees, etc... I then gestured to the corresponding part of her real body, letting my fingers barely graze her.

"Do you know why you make such a great drawing model, Mom?" I asked.

My shameless charms were obvious, but she let me continue anyways, loving the open appreciation.

"I couldn't possibly guess. My body isn't what it used to be, that's for sure." She said.

"Stop, Mom," I scolded her. "It's your hips." I motioned to a few sketches that featured her hip jutting out to the side in truly womanly fashion. I hadn't even exaggerated them. She really did have amazing hips. Then I brought my hand away from the page and let it fall to her leg, sliding it up her thigh. When it reached her hip and flared outward I continued, "practicing how to draw hips while learning anatomy is important because they're one of the body parts that clearly distinguish between males and females."
"They are?"

"Mhmm." I continued to brazenly caress my mom's hip and waist. How can she be letting me do this?!

"What else does?"

"Huh?"

"What else... distinguishes between the sexes?" She asked shyly, reddening.

I removed my hand and gestured back toward the pages. "The breasts, of course." I pointed to a few depictions of her jutting, upper assets and explained how I liked to draw the lower curves with a circular line while tapering off the upper edges. You needed to imagine them as tear drops, I told her, being shaped by gravity, rather than perfect balls.

Then I brought my fingers to her torso and began rubbing the backs of them across her rip cage, just below her tits. Mom inhaled and held her breath, knowing what was about to happen. She bit her lip and waited.

"You have a great bust, Mom, perfect for a model." My fingers ventured to the far side of her rib cage and stroked the bottom half of her right tit on their way back. Would I really dare to openly grope my mother?

"I do?"

I brought my hand over to her left tit now, the one closest to me, and let my finger tips draw large circles around it, encircling her subtly protruding nipple, barely touching her. We both felt the brutal eroticism of the moment. Now there could be no doubt. If Mom hadn't already figured out what I wanted, she knew now. I was making no attempt to hide my forbidden interest. I had already crossed the line of how a boy ought to behave with his mother. When will she stop me?

"Hell, yes." I responded softly while lost in admiration.

"Don't use that phrase."

I had just finished gathering the courage to open my hand and fully cup her when she spoke again.

"Getting a little frisky, again, huh?"

Slow down, I told myself. There is plenty of time. Play the long game.

Reluctantly, I brought my hand back down to her jean-covered thigh, continuing to slowly stroke her. Mom sat up straight, closing the sketchbook and putting it on the table. Whatever hypnotic effect it had been having on her seemed to have worn off and she was fully rational again. I wondered if she was mad.

"Since when do young men touch their mothers that way?" Her stern voice came suddenly, but her tone didn't carry any recrimination. I was in the clear.

I continued lightly exploring her leg. Appreciating her rather than answering her.

"You wouldn't touch me like this in front of your father." She put up a wall of defense. It came as a simple statement.

I responded with a statement of my own. "My father isn't here."

A pause, then, "what has gotten into you lately?"

"I found something that I like." My answer was instant.

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Boys aren't supposed to... like... their mothers. Not this way, at least."

"You raised me to not be concerned about what other people think, to simply accept my feelings without judgment."

"You spent the last three years fighting with me and trying to avoid me." She took a more serious tone. "Those years were hard for me. I knew that it was normal for a teenage boy to pull away, but I still felt like I was losing you. Now suddenly you want... whatever this is. What's going on?" She tried another line of defense.

"I grew up." I stayed on the offensive.

Her eyes explored mine for a full two seconds before a smirk broke out on the corners of her mouth. "You're a lot like him," she said.

"Yeah?" I replied, sensing that an important chord had been struck.

"Mmhmmm," she said while relaxing ever-so-slightly toward me on the couch. "Defiant and confident. Just like your father used to be."

Used to be? I guess my theory was correct. Things weren't the same between my parents anymore. And by the sound of it, it was my dad who'd changed. I decided to push that button a bit more.

"He doesn't appreciate you," I stated.

She exhaled before responding in a whisper, "...no, he doesn't."

"But, I do."

"...Yes. Yes, you do."

She turned and looked at me, her face mere inches from my own. For a split-second her eyes dropped and looked at my mouth. Then her tongue slipped out of her own to quickly wet her lips before retreating back inside. I didn't miss the signs of a woman who wants to be kissed and slid my right hand up her neck to cradle the back of her head.

When our mouths came together it was nothing like the peck we had shared a week earlier. Our lips slowly worked on one another without ever separating. After ten seconds, I opened my mouth and her tongue immediately snaked inside. She had been eager for this. I pressed my tongue against hers and chased it back into her mouth. Both of us relaxed into the kiss as we realized that the other had no intention of stopping it.

My heart beat like a drum as pleasure chemicals flooded my brain and body. Somehow I knew that Mom felt the same way. Making out with Mom! Already!

Amazingly, after a full minute of kissing she showed no signs of slowing down. In fact, she put her hands on either side of my face and continued to mouth me deeper.

I snaked my left hand between us and began stroking her tits again. There was no chastisement this time as I opened my hand and fully cupped her right breast, taking its full, glorious weight. Being openly groped sent Mom into a frenzy and she drove her tongue back into my mouth, frenching me passionately.

SLAM! The door of my father's truck closed loudly.

Reality hit us like a tidal wave. Dad was in the driveway. He was home. He'd be walking in the front door in mere seconds.

We pulled apart and stared at one other, panting.

"Your room," she said, buttoning her blouse and fixing her hair in a quick, well-practiced motion, "go." She used that mom-tone that every boy is programmed to instantly obey.

I stood, my rigid member painfully bent in my pants. I saw Mom glance at it.

As I turned to the stairs she picked up my sketchbook and handed it back to me. "Better not leave this laying around, Mister."

I scampered downstairs just as the front door opened and in walked Dad. Looking back from the safety of the stairwell I saw Mom leisurely taking a sip of water as she flipped a page in her magazine.

"How was your game, dear?"

The only indication that anything was amiss were two small, hard protrusions on Mom's chest. But my half-drunk father certainly wouldn't be looking there.

Descending to my room, I had to shake my head in disbelief. Who was this woman?!

---

Still rock hard, I spent the rest of the afternoon in my room as I processed what had happened.

My blue balls ached and needed release. I was forced to masturbate into an old pair of boxer shorts, the feeling of Mom's tit still fresh in my mind.

A couple hours later, Mom called me upstairs for dinner. We sat together as a family and ate. Dad spoke about his game and Mom nodded along. A few times she glanced at me and our eyes met. She rubbed her foot along my shin once or twice, sending tingles through my body.

I cursed myself for not moving faster on Mom this afternoon. Why did Dad have to come home early? I wondered how far I could have gone with her. How long would I have to wait for another chance to get my hands on her? Maybe until next Saturday. Shit.

After dinner Mom said that she was tired and would head to bed early. My Dad sat in the living room drinking beer and scrolling through his phone while I cleaned up the kitchen.

Not wanting to be anywhere near Dad, I, too, retired early.

---

I managed to doze off quickly but awoke in the middle of the night, hungry. I got up to quietly grab a snack from the kitchen. On my way back downstairs I, once again, heard voices coming through the ceiling vent in the corner.

Curiosity compelled me, and I set my plate of food in my room before returning to the vent. This time I quietly set up a small step ladder so that I could put my ear right against the ceiling, hopefully being able to hear more.

Mom's voice was raised. Emotional. She was upset. Then I heard Dad. His low register was easier to make out clearly.

"I said, 'no', Maria. Not now. Not tonight."

"But you mean, 'never.'"

"Go to sleep."

Mom had been trying to have sex again? So I get her warmed up, and Dad gets the payoff, huh?

Mom didn't relent. "We're not ignoring this, anymore, Rick. I'm not happy. You barely look at me."

I long sigh came from Dad, like he was exasperated.

"What do you want me to do? You can't fix this marriage by complaining or nagging me, Mar. We're not 20 years old, anymore. It's normal for the excitement to fade. I can't change that."

"I'm not delusional. I know we aren't young anymore and I don't regret marrying you. But we don't have to let this die. I'm not asking for much. You can make an effort."

"I do."

"Hah! You don't appreciate me. When was the last time you gave me a compliment? Or did anything around the house?"

"And what about you? What kind of effort do you make?"

"You better be joking."

"I'm not. What makes you so special?" Now Dad was on the offensive.

"How dare you?" Mom's voice turned to ice. "I keep this house spotless, I cook for you, wash your clothes. I keep myself in shape and wait every night in this bed for my husband to finally have sex with me, for once. I raised our son while you spent your life at the office or on the golf course."

"So you're going to put me on trial for working? How do you think our bills get paid, woman?"

"Back when our son was born you were barely home! And don't pretend that you're the only one working. There were times I could have sworn I was a single parent. Raising a child is not easy, not like you'd have a clue about that. You were barely a part of his life."

A pause.

Mom continued. "And you know what else I do for this marriage? I don't ask you anything about them. I look the other way."

"About who, Mar?"

I strained harder to get my ear close to the vent. I had to hear this.

"Oh, God, don't play stupid now. I know you've seen other women. I can smell them on you when you get home late."

"Hmph. That's a lie." The bed creaked as if Dad had just rolled over, his beer belly compressing the mattress springs.

"Really? You're going to deny it? Did you know that I once found a condom wrapper in your pants pocket? You didn't even bother to throw it away before I did the laundry."

I felt like I was listening to an episode of Jerry Springer. Mom was really letting Dad have it! I wonder why she felt so empowered today?

"Fine. It's true."

"I know it is. And do you know why I don't say anything?" Mom was going in for the kill. "Because I still love you and I'm not giving up on this marriage. And because I know that you have needs. So, I do my best to ignore what I know. And what do I get in return? At least a bit of appreciation would be nice."

How could a guy respond to that?

"I'm sorry, Maria. I'll try harder..."

"Rick, you've said that before."

"I mean it this time."

"You said that before, too."

They seemed to calm down a bit. Mom had said her piece. I really felt for her. Dad had been cheating on her? And she didn't even make a fuss about it? She should be getting some kind of "Greatest Wife" award, not being neglected. Christ, I'd marry her myself at this point.

I quietly put the ladder away and got back in bed. I had a lot of new information to process.

---

Just like the week before, Dad hung around the house all day on Sunday. There was no way to get any alone time with Mom.

After returning home from her morning run, she kept her tight workout shorts and top on while getting to work on some gardening in the backyard. I went outside to watch her while I drank my coffee, enjoying the chance to study her body in the skin-tight outfit.

Yes, it was frustrating knowing that I couldn't touch her, but I also knew that it was only a matter of time before I got my hands on her again.

Mom didn't stroke my shoulders or play footsie with me that night during dinner. And just as I was about to offer her some after-dinner tea she announced that she'd go to bed early that night.

"Well sport, what do you say you sit in the backyard and have a few beer with your old man?" Dad asked.

"I'll pass. I'm heading to bed, too," I told him. "Gotta work in the morning."

Dad looked dissapointed. I think he'd been trying to avoid having to be alone with Mom.

He followed her to bed and I heard him click the TV on to the sports channel.

I went downstairs and got out my sketchbook, beginning to draw Mom from memory. The positions that she was kneeling in while gardening came to life on my pages.

---

The beginning of the week was also a repeat of the previous one. I returned from my Monday night class to see my parents' bedroom door closed and Mom nowhere in sight. She returned on Tuesday from her pottery class complaining about being tired and sleeping early. What gives? All anybody does in this house is sleep!

By Wednesday morning I couldn't take it anymore. If I wanted time alone with Mom I was going to have to make it happen. I wasn't waiting until Saturday.

The three of us sat together having a bit of breakfast, a typical morning. Mom had made a pot of coffee and set some toast out on the counter with jam. The kitchen window, facing east, lets in a lot of sunlight in the mornings. Mom had the small radio tuned to the Classics channel, which came in just a tad fuzzy. Between retro hits the news reporter would talk about current events or the weather. I must admit, our little kitchen was a cozy place to sit and start the day.

Dad stood up to use the bathroom and change for work. He always left a few minutes before me. As soon as he left the kitchen I took out my phone and dialed my boss, preparing to do something I had never done before.

He answered quickly, "Mornin', Ty, how are ya?"

"Oh you know. Been better, been worse," I said, looking at Mom.

She was still wearing her pajamas, a light blue two-piece suit. The pants were normal, loose-fitting, but tight around her hips. They let her butt jiggle a bit as she walked. I had been sneaking peaks at her rear all morning as she made her way around the house, ogling the way the fabric stuck in her crack and outlined each cheek between each step. The top had a row of clasped buttons down the front. The only one Mom had left open was the highest. Not enough to show any cleavage even though her boobs kept the fabric quite taught. She leaned back and watched me curiously, sipping her coffee.

"Look," I continued, "I gotta take the day off. I'm coming down with something."

"You sure?" He said. "You know we're busy these days. We could really use you here."

"Sorry, boss, the only time I'm getting out of bed is when I'm running to the bathroom, if you know what I mean."

"Say no more. Come back when you're better."

I hung up and returned my phone to my pocket. Casually taking a bite of toast. I didn't need to look at Mom to know that she was still studying me with that inquisitive look.

Dad walked by the kitchen door then, now in his work uniform. He stopped and leaned inside to peck Mom on the cheek. "See you two tonight!" he yelled as he stomped to the front door.

"Goodbye, dear." Mom couldn't seem to muster much love in her voice that morning.

As the front door clicked shut, she stood and went to the sink. She began rinsing out her coffee cup.

I stood as well, sitting back on the edge of the small dining table, watching her work.

Over Mom's shoulder I saw Dad standing in the driveway beside his truck. He seemed to be organizing some paperwork in his briefcase, clearly not in a hurry.

I turned off the radio, enveloping us in silence. Mom stopped washing and turned off the sink, continuing to look straight out the window. We were alone again and both sensed the significance of it. I began to tent my gym shorts.

Approaching her, I wrapped my arms around her sides. She stiffened momentarily before exhaling and relaxing into me. I put my face in her hair and inhaled deeply before bringing my face downward and kissing her neck. There was no protest from Mom, nor encouragement. She simply let me mouth her throat while, together, we watched my father climb into his truck.

"He could see us."

I ignored her, twirling growing circles with my finger tips on her sensitive sides as I tenderly kissed her. She pressed backward into me, her soft ass bumping into my tent, then pulling away as if startled.

"You should stop. He'll see."

Mom was right. If Dad happened to look at the kitchen window, he would see us. His truck's engine fired up.

I brought my hips forward a few inches, barely grazing her butt while bringing my tickling fingers around to her tummy. She pressed backward again, and this time, she didn't pull away. Her cheeks felt like two soft pillows hugging my shaft. Tingles shot through me.

Mom pressed her hips backward, pinching my still-hardening cock between her ass cheeks. I fucked into her, pressing her forward against the counter.

If what I heard during their fight was true, Mom was absolutely starving for affection. And I would give it to her. I decided to take a chance. "Maybe he should see."

"What?"

My hands slid downward, gripping her hips.

"He should see you... being appreciated," I whispered into her ear.

Though her breathing picked up and goosebumps appeared on her neck and upper chest, she seemed to tense slightly.

"I... don't know, honey." Her bottom remained pressed against my hardness.

"He should know, Mom, what he's missing."

She squeezed the counter to steady herself, pressing back harder. We were beginning to grind ourselves together, my shaft nestled beautifully between her cheeks. She pressed back again, vigorously, enthusiastically grinding into me. Was she getting hot knowing how close Dad was? She liked the danger!

"He should?" Something about the doubt in her voice made me hot.

"Yes, he should." I used my best reassuring voice as I pressed forward against her with an upward movement at the end.

Now Dad was in his truck. I was no longer watching, my face buried in my mother's hair. If he so much as glanced toward the kitchen window, I would be caught in the act. Dad would see me molesting his wife and I'd be in for a serious beat down and kicked out of the house. Or worse. But the thrill was worth it. And by the sound of her breathing, Mom felt the thrill, as well.

"Sweetie... I don't think that it's right for you to be... appreciating me." We were both dry humping each other now, her hips moving up in down in unison with my own. "This. What we've been doing... it's wrong."

Dad's truck pulled away as our dry humping started to pick up pace.

"Just a bit more, Mom. Then we'll stop. Just let me appreciate you a bit more."

Mom was panting heavily now, enthusiastically being dry humped as she leaned forward over the sink. "Okay, just a little more. Just a bit."

I slid my hands under her pajama top and felt her smooth back, noticing the lack of a bra strap. Leaning forward I let my hands slide around the sides of her ribcage, pressing into her meaty breasts, I reached for glory but my hands were blocked by the backs of her arms.

Mom realized what I wanted and, to my surprise, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around the back of my head, pulling me toward her as she twisted to her right, bringing her mouth to my own.

As Mom thrust her chest outward, knowingly giving me access to her bare tits, my hands easily slid onto their targets, cupping each one, fully supporting her. Their weight felt exquisite in my hands. My hip thrusts became more frantic.

"Yes, baby! Let it out." She cried.

The eroticism of the moment too much to bear, I exploded in my shorts. Collapsing forward as we grinded out our finish. We stayed like that while we caught our breath before finally disengaging.
Mom slowly turned around, biting her bottom lip and casting her gaze downward. Her face was flushed red. "Baby... that was— I don't-"

"Shhh, Mom." I kissed her forehead.

Mom slowly backed away from me then turned and shuffled out of the kitchen, obviously embarrassed.

---

Ignoring the jizz which was now liquefying and running down my leg, I cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes. I went downstairs as I heard Mom's shower turn on. I still had plans for our day but she needed space right now.

In the basement I showered as well and dressed before returning upstairs to find Mom in the living room. She wasn't looking at a magazine. She was just sitting on the couch apparently deep in thought. She'd dressed herself in a pair of brown slacks and a modest, red blouse and had even dabbed on a touch of makeup. Despite having cleaned herself up, I sensed her discomfort.

I sat with her, leaving room between us on the couch. I knew that she needed to talk and I gave her time to begin. She opened her mouth once or twice to say something but didn't seem to know how to get started. I could only imagine how many thoughts must have been going through her mind.

I decided to take the lead. "Mom, something is obviously changing between us and I want you to know that I'm really happy about it. It's been great to spend so much more time with you." I left it at that, merely intending to start the conversation.

Relaxing a bit, Mom smiled. "It's been great for me, too, honey. I think any Mom would be overjoyed to have a son who actually wanted to spend time with her. I've been loving it."

I smiled at her, letting her continue. She had more to say.

"But I don't know about some of the things that have been happening. The other day on the couch... and what we did just now... it was... too much."

She needed something from me.

"Did we get a little carried away, Mom?" I offered her a sympathetic tone.

"Yeah, I think we did," she said to me. "We just got a bit carried away," she continued, now speaking to herself. She seemed to relax after accepting the phrasing I'd offered to help her save face, though she still looked conflicted.

"We didn't do anything wrong, Mom. We just enjoyed a nice moment together. Didn't you enjoy it?"

"I... yes, I did," she blushed. "But we can't do those things, anymore. You can't keep getting so frisky with me. It makes us get carried away. It isn't right." Mom finally found her confidence. "I'm your mother and this is how it needs to be."

"Sure, Mom. I understand. No more getting carried away."

"Thanks, Tyson." She relaxed fully, content now that she had put her foot down.

I wanted to get her mind off of it.

"You and I are going to spend the day together, Mom."

"Oh yeah? You're not too sick?" She poked me teasingly but she was clearly happy that we'd be spending more time together.

"Very funny," I said.

"Actually, I was planning on shopping today. Are you going to come?"

Shopping?! That wasn't what I had in mind. Then again, maybe if I did what she wanted she might change her mind about getting "carried away".

"Sure, Mom. Then I can take you out for lunch afterwards."

"Ohhh, honey! That would be so nice. A lunch date. Just the two of us!"

"Just the two of us." I smiled broadly at her, my eyes quickly darting downward to glance at her chest, tightly stretching out her blouse. Knowledge of its bare feel flashed through my mind as I thought about how good her nipples had felt against my palms. I could tell that they weren't like the boring, little ones girls my age had. They were big, rubbery, mommy-nipples. I had to see them!

She noticed where I was looking but didn't mention it.

"But first, you've got a few chores to do around the house. I noticed that you didn't cut the grass on the weekend, young man."

Chores? Was she trying to make me pay for my fun in the kitchen?

I got to work on the lawn and when I was finished, she had another list of things for me to do. By the time we left for the mall I had cleaned out the eaves trough, weeded the side garden, and organized the shed. Appreciating Mom sure was a lot of work.

---

Mom was in a giddy mood as she drove us to the mall in her sedan. I hadn't realized before how much she loves to buy new clothes.

We parked and went inside, beginning to waltz from store to store. We were in no hurry at all. In fact, I enjoyed watching Mom move and shop at her own pace. She would stop to look at a certain dress or top, make a few comments about the fabric or color and then we'd move on. Seeing her glowing in her natural environment was a real treat for me.

Wanting to know more about where her boundaries were, I decided to risk getting a bit touchy with her, occasionally getting her attention by rubbing her shoulder before pointing at a dress or necklace that would look nice on her. Once, I even placed my hand on her low back as I led her into a vintage boutique. In her current mood, Mom seemed to be okay with it.

I watched the crowds passing us and noted a few guys my age who were walking with women their senior. Many of those woman were quite attractive. Are those their mothers? Many of the pairs were certainly giving off the mother-son dynamic and several of them were being blatantly touchy with one another. One of the guys even had his arm around his "mom" and was resting his hand on the curve of her hip. Her hand was on top of his, keeping it tight against her, where it belonged. Does she let him get frisky with her? I wondered. What's that guy's secret?

As we continued from shop to shop, Mom told me that we were getting close to one of her favorite stores, Los Elegantes. When we arrived, we saw a sign in the window indicating a special 30%-off sale this week. Clutching my arm in excitement, Mom exclaimed, "oh, sweetie, we must go in. Common!" She dragged me inside.

Mom was admiring a classy black dress when I saw a pretty, olive-skinned woman approaching us. Tall and slim, she wore a red top with 'Los Elegantes' embroidered in white on the chest.

"Hi, darling, I'm Sandra," the woman addressed Mom. "Can I help the two of you find anything today?"

"Hey Sandra, I'm Maria and this is Tyson." She rubbed my arm. "And yes, I'd like to try on this dress, please."

After getting Mom's size, the three of us went to the fitting room area. A minute later Mom emerged from behind the curtain looking incredible. The dress hugged her hips perfectly. She gave us a twirl and came to stand close to me. Somehow knowing that a touch would be accepted, I put my hands on her sides. "You look great," I told her, letting my fingers trail up and down slightly. Mom glowed.

Sandra noticed us and seemed a bit surprised. I guess she also saw our age difference.

"So," Sandra addressed me quizzically, "are you looking for anything else today for your... girlfriend?"

Mom and I laughed. "Oh, this is my mom!" I stated proudly, wrapping my arm around my mother and pulling her in tight.

Sandra's eyes opened wide but she took the information in stride. "Oh my, well she is certainly lucky to have a son like you to shop with her."

Over the next 45 minutes Sandra helped Mom try on a handful more outfits, watching closely as I whistled and twirled Mom around while she modeled each dress for me. I wonder what she must have been thinking while she so intently watched a mother and son openly flirting. She didn't help any other women the whole time we were there, almost as if she enjoyed the show we were putting on.

At one point, the store phone rang and Sandra had to leave us alone for a few short moments to take the call. At the same time, Mom was emerging from the dressing room in a high-waisted, burgundy skirt with a tight, black sweater top. The skirt was snug against her hips and accentuated them beautifully. My eyes openly scanned up and down her body.

"What do you think?" She playfully asked me, jutting her butt out to the side.

"Mom, this one is just your style," I told her, taking her hand and spinning her around. "It's my favorite outfit of the day." I couldn't resist, and I reached down to give her butt a quick squeeze.

"Don't be getting too frisky now," Mom gently scolded me, letting me know where she was setting her boundaries. Though she grinned as she looked back and caught me checking out her ass on the way back behind the curtain.

Later, when Sandra took us to the till to take our payment she said, "Wow, you two really have a beautiful relationship! My son barely talks to me. I wish I could connect with him the way you two do. What's your secret?"

We looked at each other and grinned.

"Well...," Mom began.

I cut her off. "The most important thing is for a son to appreciate his mom. To notice the things she does around the house and how much effort she puts into taking care of herself and looking pretty. Right, Mom?"

"Yes, honey," she said, rubbing my arm and resting her head on my shoulder. "When a woman feels appreciated, she can be very warm and rewarding." I sensed a deeper meaning in those words.

"Maybe your son just needs to be reminded how lucky he is to have a mother like you?" I suggested to Sandra. "Maybe he just needs to be prompted a bit to... notice you. A bit of inspiration goes a long way." I winked at her.

Sandra was deep in thought as we left the store, Mom still clutching my arm happily.

We walked to the car together but before we got in Mom stood on her tiptoes and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you for such a special afternoon, sweetie."

She pressed something into my hand, the car keys.

"Let's skip lunch, I'm exhausted from all this shopping. Take me home," she said.

Mom had never asked me to drive her car before. Things really were changing between us.

When we got home I asked Mom if she wanted to have tea. Given her great mood at the mall, I thought I could try pushing her boundaries a bit more on the couch. But she declined, saying she needed to lay down. She was feeling lightheaded after the busy day.

Before going into her bedroom she thanked me again for the wonderful time and hugged me tight. I sensed an opening and, deciding to take a chance, let my hands fall to her hips while I brought my face forward, as if to kiss her. She turned away at the last moment, offering me only her cheek.

"No, baby. I... don't want to get carried away again." I guess she really was serious about the new boundaries that she'd set.

Why had I been expecting some kind of reward just for shopping with her? I reminded myself that I was playing the long game. I would need to be patient. Let her come to you, I told myself. Wait until she's ready.

I ended up spending the rest of the afternoon playing video games and doodling pictures of Mom in that high-waisted skirt.

That night during dinner with Dad, Mom didn't mention anything about going shopping with me. I guess it was to be our secret.

--- --- ---

--- --- ---

Interlude 1

Sandra sat in the back parking lot of the mall as she finished her cigarette. She always finished her lunch break with a smoke as she sat in the afternoon sun and watched delivery men unload truckloads of boxes into the bay doors. This was the best cigarette of the day — a reward for getting through the morning and a little boost to finish the afternoon.

Smoking was new for her but habits and routines form fast. In just six months she'd gone from bumming a dart or two from a friend to smoking nearly a pack a day. When your life gets hit by a tragedy you need to find a way to cope. Sandra had chosen smoking.

As she sat on that dirty concrete step, thoughts of Maria and Tyson continued to drift through her mind. What a beautiful couple! Sure, they weren't really a couple, but they sure felt like one. It was so rare to see a boy so unashamed to be out in public with his mother. And on top of that, being so affectionate, even kissing and touching her. Sandra had seen him playfully pinch her butt when they thought that nobody was looking. If that's what they do in public... what do they do in private? A tingle went through Sandra's body as she imagined the two of them arriving home, perhaps Maria would model her new dresses for him, then join him on the couch. They touched each other so casually that she was sure his hands would be all over her, and maybe she would even let him-

No! No way. That wasn't possible. Those things only happened in her imagination, not in real life.

Sandra did often think and wonder about that sort of thing happening between family members. Her imagination had been ignited back when she was becoming a beautiful young woman entering college and had started to notice boys being attracted to her. She had started to dress more and more provocatively, really having fun as she teased all sorts of men whom she would catch staring at her. And when she realized that one of those men included her own father, her thoughts had become naughty.

Her own Dad checking her out! It made her feel powerful and sexy. She had let a lot of forbidden fantasies take root in her mind back in those days. But she had always known the difference between fantasy and reality. She knew that those things simply didn't happen in real life.

But she still enjoyed the warmth and tingling between her legs as she let her mind wonder. That, mixed with the nicotine rush from the final drag of her smoke, helped her muster the strength to get through the long afternoon shift at the mall.

---

She finished work at 5 o'clock and was home by half-past. Sandra walked in the door to find her son sitting in the dining room. He had his school work spread across the table and his face buried in a thick textbook. Jace was a really good student and on track to get into a great university.

"How you doin', Jace?" she called out.

"Fine." He looked up from his books for a brief moment before returning his attention to his work.

"How was your day?" She asked.

"Good, Mom."

Sandra's only worry about him was for how he'd reacted to losing his father. It had been sudden. Nobody can predict losing a loved one in a car accident. One morning you are with them, and that night you get the dreaded phone call.

Jace had basically shut down after that, barely talking to her. It must have been devastating to lose his father at the age of 18. She had no idea how he was doing emotionally, but she knew he must be hurting and dealing with it like a typical boy, by closing up, and by distracting himself with something else. In this case, his studies. It could be worse, she thought. In her case, she'd dealt with the pain in less healthy ways.

Still, she desperately wanted to reconnect with him, and had tried, unsuccessfully, a few times to get him to talk about his feelings. He just didn't seem into it. In fact, he barely even acknowledged her these days. But now she had a new plan. All she needed to do was inspire him a bit. To get him to realize that he had an amazing mother who loved him. To get him to notice her, just like that sweet boy at the mall had said.

She took some leftovers out of the fridge and began to heat them up in the oven for their dinner. Jace was still busy studying so she didn't bother him, instead eating a plate of food on her own before going to her bathroom.

She got into the shower to refresh herself after her workday. Afterward, she stood, looking at her nude self in the mirror. Thoughts of the woman she'd met that day returned to her then and she couldn't help comparing herself to Maria.

Maria certainly had fuller breasts and wider hips than she did. Yes, overall, a more "motherly" figure. But Sandra had a more delicate type of beauty to her. Her slim form was more like a runway model, and it had magically stayed with her even after giving birth to her only child. Her breasts were not large, but they, too, had remained firm as she aged, with no sag at all. However, her real asset was her butt. It was shapely, but tight. She knew men loved it.

She had always been confident in her looks but, though she used to enjoy flaunting them, lately she had taken to dressing more modestly.

But that was going to change. It was time to get reacquainted with her son.

---

After Jace had eaten and packed up his school work, Sandra passed him in the hallway as he made his way to his bedroom.

When he saw her he stopped walking and she noticed his eyes quickly scan up and down her body. Perfect, she thought.

"Hi, honey, did you get all your work done?" She asked in a warm, motherly voice.

"Uhh... yeah. Yeah, I did."

She loved seeing him flustered. Apparently she could still catch a man's attention when she wanted to, even her son's. She grinned internally as a tingle of delight spread through her body.

She stepped a bit closer to him and looked upward into his eyes. She was a tall woman, but everyone in her family was tall and Jace took after the family genes, standing several inches taller than her still. She liked that she had to look upward to meet her son's gaze. He's already become a man.

She reached forward and gently rubbed his forearm affectionately. "I've told you this before," she began, "but I want you to know that I am so proud of how hard you work." She took another step toward him, their faces now uncomfortably close, the intimacy of the moment undeniable.

His eyes darted once more up and down her body, lingering for a brief moment on her long, toned legs. Her tanned skin glowed like smooth caramel in the dim hallway light. After her shower, Sandra had dressed herself in nothing more than a long, white t-shirt and her favorite pair of panties. Her shirt was just barely long enough to cover the bottoms of her butt cheeks.

"Umm, thanks, Mom. I— I know you are," he managed to stammer before bringing his gaze back to her dark eyes. She had worn eye shadow and a touch of mascara, the only makeup on her face.

Now Jace held eye contact while he stood his ground, not taking a step backward despite their awkward closeness.

Knowing that she was in control, she forced the uncomfortable silence to extend for five long seconds before leaning upwards on her tiptoes to plant a wet kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, darling," she whispered and finally released her grip on his arm before passing him and walking toward the living room.

He stood motionless, mesmerized by the sway of her hips and her shapely butt. He watched as her t-shirt clung to each cheek as she stepped, barely hinting at the crack separating them.

Suddenly she stopped and spoke again, as if knowing that he was still looking at her. "Jace, I think I'll stay up a while. If you'd like to keep me company, I'll be in the living room."

"Uhh, alright, sure Mo— Mom."

She went and sat on the couch, turning on the TV. She waited.

Five minutes later, he emerged from his room wearing a pair of loose pajama pants and a t-shirt. She slid over to make room for him on the couch and he sat down. Sandra extended her legs to rest them on the coffee table, crossing one over the other. The action caused her t-shirt to slide up slightly, exposing the skin on the side of her thigh almost to her panty line.

"What are you watching?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I was just flipping through the channels. Would you like to watch something? A movie?"

Jace shrugged. "Sure."

"Don't you have class tomorrow morning? You don't need to sleep soon?"

"Yeah, I have class, but I think I could stay up a bit. With you." His eyes darted quickly to her legs before returning to her face.

Wow, this might be easier than I thought.

They flipped to the movie channel. A cheesy low-budget action flick was on.

While they silently watched the movie, Sandra noticed once or twice that Jace had, once again, stolen glances at her legs and exposed hip.
After ten minutes, she reached over to the side table and removed a cigarette from her pack, lighting it and taking a long drag before exhaling and leaning toward Jace, letting her shoulder rest against his.

They watched in silence while she smoked. When she finished, she leaned forward to extinguish it in the ash tray before returning to her previous position against him, only now she nestled herself a bit deeper into him and let her hand rest on his thigh. She could feel his heart beating. She smiled. It felt so nice to be close to her son.

"Mom," he began, "this is a little bit... different."

"What is, darling?"

"This. Sitting with you like this. Touching."

She chuckled. "I know, honey." She slid her fingertips lightly on his pajama pants, up and down his thigh. "But it feels nice. Don't you think?"

"I mean, yeah, it does. It's just a bit weird."

She sat up and looked at him. "But do you like it? Sitting with your mom?"

He blushed. He was always a bit shy. "To be honest, yeah, I do."

"That's good. I like it, too." She nestled back into him grabbing his right hand and pulling his arm around her. He placed it on her shoulder. After a minute he pulled her closer to him, cuddling his mom.

A few more minutes passed. It's time. Make your move.

"Jace, do you miss Dad?"

He hesitated. She felt him tense. Oh no, did I go to far?

"I dunno," he replied, putting on his standard apathetic mask.

She decided not to press him further. If he wasn't ready, she didn't want to scare him off.

"Do you?" He asked a minute later.

"Of course, honey. Every day. It's been really hard."

"Yeah. It has been."

"You know, Jace, as tough as it's been losing him, one of the things that keeps me going is knowing that I'm still not alone. I have you." She scratched at his leg affectionately.

He didn't say anything, but he hugged her a bit tighter and slid his hand up and down the skin of her bare arm.

"You do miss him, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do, Mom. I miss him a lot. I feel... I feel like I'm on the verge of starting my life and I don't even have a father, anymore. Choosing a university, thinking about a career, it's a lot of stress for me now and I... I'm not sure how to make those decisions without his help." Emotion welled in his voice.

Sandra's heart broke. "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry! All I can say is that I love you and I'm here for you." She had already known how he felt, but finally hearing him express it still opened up a dam of her own feelings.

He turned to her and pulled her into a hug. She twisted toward him, bringing her knees onto the couch and causing her t-shirt to ride completely up over her hips, exposing her lacy, red panties.

"Thank you, Mom," he said into her hair as he pressed his face against her. "And I'm here for you."

She felt her love for him fill her heart and spread through her body. Oh, what a sweet boy. Her boy. Her son. Suddenly she became acutely aware that, despite the accident, she was a very lucky woman. She pulled her face away from his shoulder and kissed each of his cheeks, then took his face in both of her hands and kissed him once more on the corner of his mouth.

Then she relaxed into him again, keeping her knees on the couch in front of her and paying no attention to her utterly exposed panties. She could have pulled her shirt back down, covering herself, but she didn't want to. She would let him look. She wanted him to see her.

There was no more talk about his father. He had opened up. He had shared his feelings. And that was enough.

They continued to cuddle throughout the rest of the movie, the initial awkwardness gone. At some point she began to slump down onto his lap until she was laying across him. His hand had slid off of her arm and was sitting on her side now, still moving back and forth every few minutes as he tenderly stroked her.

Eventually his hand traveled farther downward and arrived at the hem of her shirt, in the danger zone. Will he go further? She felt herself get excited and a tingle emerged between her legs as Jace's fingers contacted the bare skin of her hip and his hand slid off of the safety of her shirt, resting entirely on bare upper-leg.

The naughtiness of being touched there began to ignite a fire in Sandra. A smoldering ember, which had never been totally extinguished, now began to glow and flame as Jace added new fuel. He was trailing small circles on her hip, daring to graze his mother's thin panty strap when she began to squirm her hips and slid her hand across his lap and under her head. She felt his hardness against her palm and, before she could stop herself, squeezed his shaft between her fingers.

He moaned and bucked his hips, beginning to breath heavy as his hand opened and rested directly on her butt cheek.

Sandra's hand began to rub up and down against Jace's hard shaft. She had attracted him to her and, not only convinced him to open up emotionally, but had also aroused him. She was oh, so satisfied with herself and overjoyed to be so intimate with her son — her man. I can't believe I'm touching him! He feels so big!

She squeezed him harder and continued stroking up and down, while keeping her eyes on the movie. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, but she also knew that it needed to be done. It was the only way to solidify their new relationship. Besides, she was no tease. She wasn't the type to get a man worked up and then leave him hanging. He was such a wonderful son and he deserved a release.

"Mom—," Jace began.

"Shhh, baby, we're just watching the movie." She continued to masturbate his rod through his pants for another minute, picking up speed.

"Oh, Mom! I'm going to—"

"Just watch the movie, Jace."

He began bucking his hips frantically while sliding his hand all over her ass, exploring her. Moments later he tensed and released a guttural moan. She felt a wet spot spread around the flannel crotch of his pants and smiled to herself. What a good boy, cumming like that for his mother.

"Uh... Mom, that was—."

"The movie, Jace," she cut him off. "Just watch the movie."

They finished watching in silence and when the credits came on Sandra took the remote and shut off the TV.

She leaned up to give him a kiss and, remaining close to his face, said, "Goodnight, my boy. Just remember, I'm always here for you."

She stood and left him on the couch, a wide-eyed expression on his face. Oh, the thoughts that must be rushing through that young man's head.

She entered her room and quickly removed her shirt before sliding under her sheets, now wearing only the lacy, red panties. The events of the past 90 minutes replaying in her mind. I did it! She couldn't deny how happy she was. Or, for that matter, how horny she was. Her finger tips began to gently rub across her chest.

A few minutes later, she heard Jace enter his own room, next to hers.

She couldn't believe how well her plan had worked! How wonderful it had been to be close to Jace again. To give him pleasure — the pleasure he deserved! She began to play with her breasts, getting herself even more worked up. She loved how it felt to massage them and pinch her sensitive nipples.

Her right hand slid over her belly to her crotch and she began to rub herself through her panties, giving herself permission to let her mind wonder. Then she slid her panties down, the panties that Jace should have slid down, he should have been the one to take them off, not her. Yes! She was sure that if he'd tried, she would have let him. Feeling that truth drove her into a frenzy.

As her fingers slipped inside she moaned under her breath, fighting to keep quiet, knowing that her son was just on the other side of a paper-thin wall.

"Ohh, ohh, Ohhhh, mmmmmm!"

A whirlwind of thoughts and images flew through her mind as she released the tension she'd held for months. The feeling of Jace's hands on her body, and his cock in her own, the fun she'd had all those years ago, being a seductress. Yes, that was what she was — a seductress! And now I can be one again.

Her orgasm built slowly, then came all at once as that dirty word popped into her mind. That forbidden word that had always burned deep within her fantasies. Incest. The thought of it put her over the edge and her finish exploded through her body. She managed to stay quiet. At least until the end, when her final moan echoed through the small house.

---

She rose for work the next day in a giddy mood and took her time preparing her morning routine, thoroughly enjoying her shower and the process of creating her outfit. Jace had already left for his early-morning class so she had the house to herself as she sat, sipping her tea while having her first cigarette. Smiling to herself, she couldn't remember the last time she'd begun a day in such a pleasant mood.

Throughout her shift at the mall, she enthusiastically helped women find outfits and loved the looks on their faces as they checked themselves out in the mirror wearing their new dresses and blouses. What a joy it was to help those women feel beautiful, the way a woman should! Sandra had a permanent smile painted on her face.

Several of her coworkers remarked on the change in her personality.

"Sandra, what's gotten into you? It's been forever since I've seen you like this!" They'd say, sharing her happiness.

"Oh, I'm just having a good day," she'd responded.

"Did you meet someone?" They'd teased, knowing that she had been single for a while.

"Maybe," she'd blushed, hoping the ladies wouldn't pry further.

Back at home, she made a simple dinner which she shared with Jace while he took a break from his schoolwork. The conversation flowed naturally as they shared the highlights of their day. After finishing, they continued to chat about life for twenty minutes before she left him to keep studying.

Later that night she showered and rubbed lotion into her entire body before slipping on a pair of skimpy, black panties and a dark-colored, silk kimono. She tied it tightly around her waist, ensuring that her breasts were well-covered. After brushing her damp hair she went and sat on the couch, flicking on the television.

Again, she waited.

It didn't take more than ten minutes before Jace had come and sat next to her.

"So, are we going to watch another movie tonight, Mom?"

"I don't know, honey, I'm a bit tired tonight. I might go to bed early."

He affectionately pushed her damp hair behind her ear and trailed his finger down her arm. "Are you sure, Mom? How about a short movie?"

She rolled her eyes, grinning. "Alright, Mister. One short movie. But would you pour me a glass of wine first?"

"Sure, Mom."

"And one for yourself."

Jace sprang up and made for the kitchen, returning after a few minutes with two wine glasses, each containing a full-bodied red.

"Mmmm, thank you, sweetie." She pecked him on the cheek as he sat next to her. Then she extended her legs to rest on the coffee table and lit a cigarette before leaning against him, just like the previous night.

Jace changed the TV to the movie channel. An old 1960s war movie was on and was already part-way over. They watched in silence for a few minutes as Sandra enjoyed her cigarette, sensually exhaling before leaning forward to ash it in the tray on the table by gently tapping her finger on it's top. She liked the way her black painted nails looked against the white paper. When she extinguished it she leaned back to find that Jace had extended his right arm and wrapped it around her.

Already so confident? She snuggled up close to him.

Before long his right hand slid down from her shoulder and landed on her side. A minute later, he had begun exploring. First, up and onto her hip, then down onto the bare skin of her leg. He gently trailed his finger up and down, barely touching her.

She loved the sensation of being touched and relished the tingles it gave her. After taking a sip of wine she lay down in his lap, using his legs as a pillow, giving him better access to continue his explorations.

"Mmmm, Jace, that feels wonderful."

Emboldened, his fingers hooked the bottom of her kimono on their next trip upwards, sliding it up her legs and over her hip, bringing her butt and thin panty strap into view. To her surprise, he didn't grab at her cheek. He just grazed it with all four fingertips as they traveled back down, as if he was admiring her. She smiled, she had raised such a respectful boy.

His touches were beginning to get to her, though, and she tried not to think about the hard shaft that she could feel against the side of her face.

Ever the explorer, Jace moved his hand to his mother's belly, resting it still for a minute before slipping it underneath the flap of her kimono and onto her bare stomach.

Sandra inhaled sharply as his fingers began to trace a large circle on her sensitive skin. She was suddenly acutely aware of her bare breasts only inches from her son's exploring hand.

Soon, Jace began to draw a long line up and down her midriff rather than a circle. At the low point, his hand bumped into the kimono knot,loosening it ever-so-slightly with each bump. And at the high point, his fingers would trail up to her sternum, dangerously close to her firm boobs.

The fear that he would suddenly reach for a breast excited Sandra. What if he does it? Gropes me? Would I stop him? Of course she would stop him! She couldn't let him fondle her like that. What they had done last night had been wonderful and she certainly wanted to be closer to Jace. But she didn't want things to go too far too fast. Her hyper-sensitive breasts had always been her weak point and she was afraid she would lose control if he began touching them. Even so, the proximity of his hand excited her and her chest was soon covered in goosebumps.

As his finger tips were beginning to climb her inner swells, she reluctantly took his wrist in her hand and asked, "What do you think you're doing, Jace?"

"Just touching, Mom. Like last night."

"Last night was special."

"Is tonight special?"

"Yes... but not like last night."

She guided his hand out of her kimono and back onto her hip. He quickly slid it onto her still-uncovered rump. That was okay with her. He could explore down there.

Before long, the movie ended.

"Let's watch another," Jace suggested.

"No, honey, the deal was one movie," Sandra said, sitting up. Her loose kimono falling open as her hard, right nipple slipped into the view. "Oops," she giggled, covering up and quickly cinching the rope belt tighter.

"Common, Mom, just one more."

"Honey, I couldn't possibly make it through another. I need to sleep."

"Then let's watch it in your bed on my tablet. That way you can fall asleep if you get too tired."

In her bed? That seemed a bit dangerous. But he had suggested it so boldly. "Honey, I'll just end up falling asleep on your shoulder, then you'll be stuck there all night."

"Oh, Mom. I don't mind if you fall asleep."

"Really?"

"No, not at all. We'll be much comfier there, anyways."

Sandra thought. It was risky, but it would certainly be comfortable to lay in bed with him. She would need to make sure things stayed under control. "Alright, give me a few minutes and then come to my room."

She left him, going to the bathroom to brush her teeth and splash a bit of water on her face. I can manage this. I can stay in control.

She lay in her bed and called Jace, who quickly came and joined her with his tablet, which he set up on the mattress between them. He now wore only his pajama bottoms, having left his shirt in his own room. Sandra admired his muscles as he joined her in bed.

He quickly chose and clicked on another older movie. This time a long drama set in the mid-west. She loved those old "feel-good" movies.

"Let's get under the covers, I want you to be comfy while we watch," he suggested.

He pulled back the covers and they both climbed under, leaving the sheet rolled down to their waists.

She immediately nestled against him as his left arm snaked around her to squeeze her against him. How wonderful it was to be in bed with a man again! She smiled and rested her head on his strong chest. She wondered if Maria and Tyson ever laid like this. Of course, they do, silly!

Sandra noticed the bulge form in Jace's pajama pants, not far from where her hand rested on his belly. She had a sudden urge to reach out and squeeze it, just like last night. But she controlled herself. There was a difference between touching on the couch and touching in bed.

She cuddled a bit further against him, now letting her bosom press against his chest. Her robe had, once again, ended up loosened and her breasts were in danger of spilling out. It's okay, they're still covered.

She really was comfortable and was asleep within a few more minutes.

---

She woke up some time later, feeling refreshed. She knew the movie was still playing because she could hear it before opening her eyes.

She kept them closed and continued to enjoy the sensations she was feeling all over her body. Jace was rubbing her low back, it felt wonderful. He must have flipped her robe up again because his hand was on her bare skin.

Then she felt his other hand slide across her belly and up toward her chest. Her bare chest!

Jace hadn't flipped her robe up at the bottom, he had untied it! He had it wide open, the little sneak!

His fingers continued over her lower ribs and climbed the swell of her left breast before cupping her entire tit. Oh, it felt exquisite! To be fondled, groped, caressed! His thumb and first finger pinched her already-hard nipple casually, making her wonder how long he'd been playing with her like this. Could it have been a whole hour?

She knew she needed to stop him, to scold him for playing with her sleeping body. But she didn't want to. Let him touch me! Let him appreciate me! This was what she'd craved. This was what she'd earned.

Then his left hand slid lower, right onto her bare cheek. His fingers toyed with the strap of her thong for a few seconds before authoritatively pressing into her crack and gripping the top half of her buttocks. He couldn't reach farther than that.

She was truly growing horny now, being so brazenly treated like this. As he continued to pinch and toy with her nipples, she knew she'd lose control soon and would be unable to stop him. I'll just let him play a bit more, then I'll put an end to this. She slid her hand across his chest and moaned approvingly.

She felt him tug upward on her and she rolled closer to him, almost on top of him, giving him better access to her ass. I'm just getting a bit comfier, she thought to herself. I'm not encouraging him.

His left hand came back up off of her ass and began rubbing her low back once again, while his right left her tit and slid down to her hip. Good, back in the safe zone. He knew not to take advantage of his sleeping mother. What a good son.

Suddenly his left hand dipped down again, but this time it went into her panties. His fingers were sliding down her bare crack! And going lower, too. Down, down they went, sliding across her little anus until they were right between her legs, barely reaching her pussy lips, reaching as far as he could, to his limit.

Oh God, this was too much! Too dangerous. She had to stop him. She would stop him. In just a moment. She would just let him keep wiggling his fingers like that for a moment longer. It felt so good to feel herself being touched down there after so long, getting wetter as he toyed with her.

Suddenly he reached even lower, having better access. Had he sat up to be able to slide his hand farther between her legs? No, she had moved! She had opened up her legs and climbed up the bed, closer to him, letting him access her. Oh, no! I'm losing control!
His fingers, slick with her juice, dipped inside of her.

Loving the feeling of fullness, she moaned out loud and spread her legs wider. The rest of her control totally vanished.

She was accepting it now. Willing it. Wanting it. This is okay. I touched him last night. Now he can touch me. It's only fair.

His right hand lifted upward on her hip and she obediently swung her leg over his torso, straddling him. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at his handsome face, his desire evident. She brought her lips down to his, kissing him deeply. Their tongues instantly clashing, fighting to get into the other's mouth.

His fingers left. She felt momentarily empty, wanting nothing more than to be filled again. But he was only trying to remove her panties. His fingers would be back soon.

Yes! Undress me, unwrap your mother! She helped him drag her thong down her thighs, then lifted her knees off of the mattress one at a time to kick it away.

Now fully available, she straddled him again, feeling one of his hands return to her lower lips and press inside while the other pushed his pajama pants down to his knees.

She pulled her robe apart, then hooked her left hand behind his head, mashing her tits into his face. He took them into his mouth, loving them. The sensation of being sucked fired electricity all the way to her toes. Had she ever, in her life, been this horny?

His fingers left her again. No! Bring them back. Pleeeaseee, they felt so good. Suddenly they returned to her, filling her so wonderfully full, even more full than before. Feeling so much thicker. How were they so deep? No, something was different. Both of his hands were on her hips, holding her tight. Then what was inside? Oh, no! It couldn't be his— Yes, it was! But she couldn't let him do that! She would pull off of him! She would tell him to stop!

She opened her mouth and desperately cried, "yes, fuck meee!!!"

Fuck me, take me! Finally, it was real. She was committing true incest. Her son's cock scratched the deep, dark itch that she had been carrying all these years. Finally she was having the incestuous fuck that had owned her fantasies. It's true. It's really true. It's real. It can be done.

Sandra held herself above him, letting him fuck up into her. Yes, you can have me! Show me your need! She relished the feeling of his hunger.

Unable to withstand the pleasures of his mother's womanhood, he came quickly, gushing his spunk into her, filling her up as she fell against his chest, panting and moaning his name. Her own satisfaction had not come from the orgasm she'd had, but from her sense of his desire for her. His frantic thrusts had communicated everything she had wanted to know.

They caught their breath. Both recovering at the same time. Without speaking, he kicked his pants off and peeled her robe off her shoulders, rolling her over onto her back. She quickly brought her knees up high, close to her chest and opened herself to him again, now liberated to do so anytime he wanted her. She felt no shame in raising her hips off of the bed and spreading herself wide, lewdly showing him both of her orifaces, wanting him to truly see his mother.

His mouth hung open as he stared hungrily at the offer before him. Hastily, he leveled his still-hard prick and guided it into her waiting pussy once again. He fucked her slower now, taking his time to enjoy the sensation rather than rushing to a much-needed finish like before.

Sandra hooked her hands around her thighs from the outside and pulled her knees apart for him while rubbing up and down the bottom of each of her legs. She offered him encouragement in the form of moans and coos as he worked her.

"Ooo, yes, baby. Deeper. Go deeper into me. Deeper into your mother!"

He pulled out part-way through his orgasm, leaving the first three bursts of son-seed painted onto her cervix, while spraying the rest of it all over her holes and belly. She moaned her appreciation as he painted her, giving her a glaze finish along with her cream pie center.

"Mmmmmmm, good job, Darling." She lovingly rubbed his face.

He plugged himself back into her again and collapsed forward, exhausted. Their mouths met and, for a long time, they passionately kissed one another with great tenderness.

She was free now, free to fuck her own family without fear. Free to give herself the way she'd fantasized. Incest was real. She'd always known it. It really could be done. The boundaries she had lived with all these years had only ever been self-imposed, and now they were shattered.

Before finally drifting to sleep in the early morning hours, she thought of her father. How she would catch him gazing at her young body so long ago and how hot it had made her. How distant they had become after she had moved away for college and how she had longed to reconnect with him but never knew how. She knew that she would be giving him a call soon now that she was free to properly repair their relationship.

--- --- ---

--- --- ---

Part 2

I sensed that our day of flirting at the mall was special and that Mom wasn't going to act like that all the time so I didn't try anything with her for the rest of the week. No touching and no flirting. I decided to stick with my plan of starving Mom of attention until she gave me an invitation. It would be good to show her that I could respect her boundaries.

I ended up working on Saturday to make up for my day off, so I wasn't even at home while Dad was out golfing. I stayed downstairs in my room most of the day on Sunday and on Monday I returned from my martial arts class to find my parents both in bed with their door closed. When Mom arrived home from her Tuesday night pottery class I, myself, had already retreated to the my basement bedroom.

During this time I continued doing a lot of chores around the house, especially keeping the kitchen clean. Even if I wasn't getting any action, I still wanted to help out. I didn't like seeing Mom slave away for us and I really felt bad for her after finding out how Dad treated her. A woman like her really did deserve better. However, I didn't touch Mom or give her any compliments at all. No lingering glances, comments, light touches, nothing. When Mom decided that she wanted the attention, all she had to do was invite it.

An entire week passed like this, as if Mom and I were totally back to a "normal" relationship.

The following Wednesday night I awoke just after midnight to hear faint voices coming from that vent again. I didn't need to get the ladder and spy on them. I already knew everything. I couldn't tell what they said, only the tone of voice. Mom was upset and frustrated. Dad was apathetic and distant. Same as ever. I went back to sleep.

And Mom's invitation came the following evening.

I was in my room doodling while Mom prepared dinner. When it was ready she came downstairs to get me, knocking on my door and popping her head inside. "Dinner's ready, Tyson," she softly said.

"Okay, Mom I'll come right up," I said. I happened to glance up at her and saw that she was wearing one of the outfits from our day at the mall — the high-waisted burgundy skirt. I couldn't stop myself and my eyes lingered on her legs and then hips for a few extra moments.

Mom caught me and smiled, turning slowly and casually walking away. Her hands slowly slid up the back of her thighs and over her butt as if she knew I was still looking at her. "There's no rush, honey," she said.

I didn't dare let myself think that she'd worn that skirt just for me. Until I saw how she behaved at dinner.

Part way through the meal, Mom got up to retrieve another beer for Dad. It would be his fourth. He was in the middle of some rant and paying very little attention to the two of us. When she walked behind me, she let her hand brush across my shoulder as she passed me, twirling my hair for a moment and then sliding off of the opposite shoulder. She set the beer down in front of Dad and then looked over at me. She didn't smile, her eyes just bore into mine for a moment. Then I felt her foot against my shin. It slid up to my knee and then back down again. She pulled her foot away and it was over. It was quick, but I knew what it meant. I was allowed to try something.

I acted normal until dinner was over and Dad had gone to the living room to finish another beer and play with his phone. Then I helped Mom clear off the table. I watched her for a few seconds as she started to do the dishes. Dad couldn't see us from where he sat on the couch and I realized that I now had the chance I'd been waiting for.

Remembering how hot she'd gotten the last time I'd touched her near Dad, I decided to test my theory.

I put my hands on her shoulders, rubbing them affectionately.

"Let me help you, Mom."

"Oh, thanks, honey. You're so sweet."

My hands kept rubbing but now dropped to her sides and low back. She stopped scrubbing the pot and looked forward out the window.

I put my hands on her sides, dropping them down to rest on the swells of her hips. Then I brought my face close to her and kissed her cheek, then her neck.

"Your father-," she began to say. Her soft voice didn't travel far.

"Is in the living room," I finished, needing to whisper to keep my voice from traveling.

"He might come back."

"He might."

My hands slid from her hips onto her ass, kneading it in my palms, squeezing it possessively. God, it felt good. Mom had a wonderfully meaty bottom.

"So you should stop," she told me, as she pushed her rear end toward my greedy hands.

I started to bunch the skirt up in my palms, dragging it up the backs of her legs. The only noise in the house was coming from the six second video clips Dad was mindlessly absorbing and his occasional snort of laughter.

"You should stop," she repeated, beginning to breath heavier. "What if he comes in?"

"If he walks into this kitchen," I began to whisper, "he'll see me appreciating his wife." I kissed her neck. "And maybe he'll finally realize what he's missing."

"Yeah," she grinded her hips in a little circle. "What he ignores..."

I dug my fingers into her crack, pushing the tight skirt fabric between her cheeks.

"You're not supposed to be touching me like this," she pushed her ass backward against me, encouraging me to grope her harder. "It's wrong. It's against the rules."

I lifted her skirt higher. Her cheeks were about to come into view.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked.

She said nothing, only breathing harder.

I slid my right hand below the hem of her skirt and placed it on her cheek. I could feel the edge of her panties. With my left I held her skirt up, now having bunched it up completely into my fist.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked again.

"No."

Her legs widened and my right hand slid deeper between her legs, right onto her crotch, cupping her sex. She sucked in her breath as I pressed upward against her, rubbing her. She started to gyrate her hips as my middle finger depressed the soaking panties against her clit. I began rubbing in small circles but increasing the pressure with time.

There was no more need for talking after that. The intensity of the moment was enough to get Mom off.

I brought my left hand up to her mouth, covering it just in time, muffling her first loud moan. She bit down on me as she came, falling forward onto the counter.

As she recovered, she appeared to be flustered — unsure whether to stay with me in the kitchen or leave and face her husband, but needing to do something.

Knowing my role in our new dynamic, I gave Mom instructions. She needed me to be decisive for her. "Go to the living room and kiss Dad on the cheek," I whispered. "Tell him you're going to bed early. Then have a shower, put on something comfortable, and go to sleep. I'll take care of the kitchen. You don't need to be neglected ever again, Mom." I kissed her lips, silently.

She stared at me in wonder, then obeyed, walking out into the living room. I heard the audible smooch sound as she kissed my father's cheek and her telling him she was going to bed early, then their bedroom door closing and the shower starting a minute later.

I made sure to smell and lick clean my fingers before finishing the dishes. I had a taste and I wanted more.

I went right down to my room after that. Laying in bed, I remembered the feeling of my mom's body as I got her off. This business with Mom was really making me feel like a man. It's funny how even after a boy grows up, his mother still has more lessons to teach him. I smiled as I dozed off.

---

I had been sleeping for only a couple of hours when I awoke to a soft knock on my door. I wondered if it was my imagination, until a moment later when the door slowly opened. I could barely make out Mom's dark silhouette as she entered and quietly shut the door behind her, turning the knob as it closed so that the latch wouldn't make a sound. She approached my bed and sat on the edge, resting her hand on my thigh above the sheet.

I turned on my dim, bedside lamp to see my mother wearing a short white robe tied tightly around her waist. There wasn't a speck of makeup on her face and her hair hung loosely on her shoulders, still damp from her shower. She looked natural.

"Mom?"

"Shhhh." She trailed her finger tips along my leg silently for a minute. There was an oddly determined look on her face. She was nervous and pushing herself. I said nothing and we simply sat together in comfortable silence.

Eventually, she gently spoke. "You took a big risk today in the kitchen."

"Yeah?" I left my response open to see where this was going.

"Mhmmmm," she laid her hand flat on my thigh, dipping her fingers inside. "Your father could have seen what you were doing to me."

"Yeah, he could have."

"Yes... and how bad you were being... and how bad you were making me be."

Then I started to understand her new game. I knew she got off on the danger, but I didn't expect to ignite this much fire in her. Wow!

"He could have caught me touching you," I said. Now resting my hand on her thigh.

She bit her lip.

I continued. "He could have seen me touching his wife."

"He could have seen that she was encouraging it," Mom said, now breathing harder.

"That she was... spreading her legs for another man," I risked going too far, but was instead rewarded.

"Oooo, yes, for another man. For you!" Mom's hips started to squirm and she leaned her face close to mine. I guess she liked my phrasing. She whispered sensually, "he would have seen how sneaky she was being, letting her boy secretly get frisky with her."

My hand slid higher up her thigh as I responded. "He would have seen what he's missing out on." Then I took another risk. "What he's going to lose."

She caught her breath and spoke after a few moments, continuing to lean toward me. "Yes, what his son is... taking away from him."

The intensity of the moment was overwhelming. Our mouths came together like magnets and our tongues began dancing, fiercely mashing together. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me, feeling her damp hair on my face and chest. Her hand slid up my body, briefly passing over my cock, the first time her hand had felt it. She grabbed my face in both hands as we made out.

I grabbed the knot of her robe, wanting it open, wanting to see and feel the body beneath it. Now's your chance! Get her out of that fucking robe!

Suddenly she pushed my hands away from her, breaking the kiss and sitting up straight. Still breathing heavy and flushed red.

"No, honey. Get your sketchbook first." Her voice was frantic.

"Huh?"

"Draw me, baby. I need you to draw me. You must."

What? After everything we just did here and in the kitchen, she was going to stop me now? She wanted me to draw her again? I wasn't sure what game she was playing but I was willing to go along if it meant getting that damn knot untied.

I jumped out of bed and grabbed my sketchbook off the desk. Walking proudly in front of my mother in my undershorts, my obvious erection throbbing. Mom openly looked at it, curiosity in her eyes. I wondered how few cocks she'd actually seen.

She stood at the end of my bed while I began to draw. I had no intention of spending much time on this sketch, just enough to satisfy whatever thrill it gave Mom so that we could get back to business.

She posed in a demure fashion, standing straight and looking at me with a downcast gaze. I focused my sketching on her robe and body, really making sure to capture the curves of her hips and bust. God, she had a wonderful bust.

"Tell me how you want me," she husked.

So she wanted some more orders? I could do that.

"Kneel on the end of my bed. Keep your legs together and put your hands on your knees. Look away from me."

She obeyed and I drew for no more than three minutes. I had no intention of taking my time tonight.

"Twist toward me and lean on your right hand. Let your left leg dangle off the bed."

Again, she obeyed, like a human puppet. My eyes roamed over her body, observing and noting every detail, every curve, every shadow.

Her right hand began to toy listlessly with her robe's belt while I drew, gently tugging at it but not hard enough to open the knot. What was she doing?

Then I remembered that I was in charge. That she liked me taking the lead, even bossing her around.

I tried to keep my voice level. "Take off your robe."

She froze, no longer toying with the knot. "Oh, honey. I don't think I can do that..."

"Stand up." I kept my voice normal, but firm.

She stood, her hands returning to the rope belt, knowing what command was coming, but needing me to say it anyways. She looked at me, patiently anticipating my voice.

I waited for nearly ten seconds, then calmly spoke. "Untie it."

She hesitated for a few seconds.

"I shouldn't."

She needed a bit more coaxing. Was she thinking of what my dad was doing with other women? For other women? I returned to my phrasing from earlier.

"Untie it, Mom. For me."

"For you?"

"Yeah, Mom. Untie it. Take it off, for me. For... another man."

That did it. She slowly pulled the knot apart and let her robe spread open. Her bare midriff came into view. A pair of black lace panties covered her crotch. The robe parted further around her breasts which were supported by a thin mesh bra. Her hard nipples were clearly visible though the thin material.

She allowed the robe to fall from her shoulders into a pool on the floor behind her feet. I could have cum just from the sight of her.

We both breathed heavily as I admired her body. I had never seen her so exposed, revealing so much white, creamy skin. Even at the beach, she wore modest one-piece bathing suits.

I stood up to go to her.

"No, sweetie" she raised a hand to stop me. "Draw."

Returning to my seat, I gathered the book and looked at her. She waited expectantly, appearing vulnerable and unsure of herself.

"Mom," I began, gathering my previous confidence. "We need to do a drawing that shows off your toned legs. Twist to the side and look at me, with one leg behind the other."

She did as I told her and I began to draw. Again, spending no more than three minutes on her form and focusing on her lower body. My hand was shaking as I began to work. With my cock throbbing under the book it was hard to draw in this surreal situation.

"Now sit on the end of the bed and lean toward me. We need to draw your upper body, Mom. Your breasts."

"We do? My... breasts?" She trailed her fingers slowly through the valley in the center of her chest.

"Yes, Mom. It's important."

Again, she obeyed, though a bit more shyly. She was nervous to display her upper body so blatantly.

We were sitting so close together that I could smell her. For this drawing, I focused on her chest and shoulders and included the sultry look on her face.
I couldn't take much more of this. "Last one, Mom. Lay across my bed on your stomach, I'm going to draw your backside now."

She obeyed again, this time quicker. She wasn't so nervous to show me her ass.

I spent an extra minute on this sketch, making sure I captured perfectly the way her panties curved around her cheeks and disappeared into her crack.

When I was finished I told her to come sit with me and look. By now, I understood how our our implicit deal worked. She got to look at the drawings I did of her and I got to explore.

She crawled on her knees and sat on the bed beside me while I handed her the book.

Mom immediately seemed to undergo the usual transformation that my sketches have on her. She smiled broadly, clearly pleased. She beamed the way a woman should, knowing that she is appreciated.

I sat behind her, immediately putting my hands on her skin, absorbed in it, fascinated by my mother's exposed body. I brought my face to her hair, inhaling deeply as I began to kiss her neck and shoulders.

"Oh, sweetie, that feels so good." She leaned back against me slightly.

I brought my hands around her, sliding them up her bare thighs and over her stomach.

"You know... sometimes if a woman feels appreciated, she might let a man get a bit frisky."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, baby. She might let a man play a little bit. But just a little."

She set the book down and leaned backward against me. I fell backward against my pillows as she slid up the mattress to sit between my legs, facing away from me, and leaned back into my chest. I brought my arms around her and pulled her close. I was overwhelmed in her feel, her scent, the ocean of soft, white skin pressed against me. My hands roamed across her arms and torso. So much body against me. She leaned back and rested her head on my shoulder, thrusting her chest upward.

The next moment my hands were sliding up and over her breasts, capturing them firmly over her bra while she turned her face and our mouths met. Even through the bra, her hard nipples dug into my palms. I brought my hands back around her, unsnapping her bra and tearing it off of her, revealing her beautiful mom-tits. My hands returned to cup them, squeezing and playing with her big nipples as she dug her tongue into my mouth.

"So..." she whispered. "Are you going to play?" She nudged my right hand downward, off of her tit.

Mom began gyrating her hips. I guess our encounter in the kitchen only served to get her warmed up because she was seriously horny, her wanton action betraying her lust.

I slid my hand down, past the slight pout of her tummy, and over her mound, cupping and pressing against her. She went wild grinding herself against my hand.

"Yes! Play, sweetie. Play with me."

I hooked my thumb over the waistband of her panties and pushed them down, digging my fingers underneath and diving into the wet forest of fur and bare lips.

Mom sucked in her breath and then began mewing and moaning rapidly into my ear as I hooked my middle finger inside of her. I followed with my index finger shortly after, taking my time to work her tight pussy open with two of my digits. Mom's eyes spread wide and her jaw silently fell open.

"Gentle," Mom panted. "It's been a while." From her tightness and the intensity of her voice, I knew in that moment that it had been a long time since Dad had properly touched her.

I worked her for two minutes, massaging her left tit with one hand and fingering her with the other until her legs began shaking and she lifted her hips off the bed, trying to impale herself deeper on my hand.

"That's it, Mom, take it. Fuck it!" I hissed into her ear, driving her wild.

Mom had what was obviously a much-needed release.

At this point, I was barely containing myself from exploding in my shorts as my cock rubbed against my orgasming mother's back. But, I had other plans than wetting myself like the day in the kitchen.

I lifted Mom, while sliding my body downward, plopping her on my lap, above my cock so that her meaty butt mushed against my belly and my cock sprang up between her legs. Then I quickly flipped it out from under my waistband and let it spring against her soaking panties, immediately beginning to grind it on her.

Her tone immediately changed as she realized our proximity to the forbidden edge and she fearfully snapped her legs together, squeezing my shaft between two smooth, creamy thighs and against the heat of her womanhood. "Baby, this... this is too much. You can't put it there!" Her voice now contained fear. Was she having a moment of doubt?

There was no doubt on my end as I tasted how close I was to my prize. I started bucking and fucking her thighs, wanting nothing more than to return to my birthplace.

Somehow my dickhead slipped under the fabric and on my next upward thrust I felt moisture and skin. Holy shit! I was rubbing against her bare lips! As I slid my hands back down her sides, I caught the straps of her lacy panties and slid them down her thighs to her knees. Finally exposing her lightly-haired pussy for the first time. Get inside her! This is your chance!

"Oh God, baby, you need to st— stop!" Mom begged me, while gyrating her own hips in rhythm with mine.

Returning my hands to her hips, I lifted her slightly on one of my backstrokes, no more than an inch. When she came back down my cock parted her entrance, truly threatening to penetrate into her.

Mom's body froze as she desperately gasped, "no, you can't pu— put it there!"

She seemed to return to sobriety in that moment of truth, knowing that I was intent on only one thing and that her ability to stop me was vanishing rapidly. Only moments remained for her to save us from diving into the true depravity of an incestuous fuck.

"I need it, Mom! Let me... appreciate you!"

"No, not there," she pulled away, grabbing my organ. Her tight grip felt incredible. Then she spun around, kneeling between my legs.

"But you can put it here." In the nick of time she engulfed my shaft to the back of her mouth. Her thick, wet lips slurping their way nearly to my base while her warm slug of a tongue twisted and spiraled its way around and around my head. Wow, Mom could suck!

After the best two seconds of my life, I exploded in what was, by far, my most intense nut. My jizz machine gunned into the back of her throat until it began to ooze out around my rod. Mom swallowed it all, savoring each drop while she licked me clean.

She crawled up next to me and whispered, "you earned some play time, and I love having you appreciate me, but I can never let you... inside me. Not there." She kissed me once more on the cheek. "Goodnight."

She picked up her robe and slipped out of my room. Again, all I could do was admire her butt as she walked away. How the hell was I going to fuck this woman?

Mom acted utterly normal the next morning. No suggestive glances, touching, or comments. If you were standing in our kitchen watching the three of us eat breakfast, you would have had no idea what we'd done just a few hours earlier.

---

So that was it. I had broken through. Mom seemed much more open to me now. Over the next week we seemed to be constantly lightly flirting and I always made sure to touch her when Dad was nearby, but not paying attention.

I would often feel her toe gently poking and nudging my leg under the dinner table, then later that night, I would help her do the dishes while taking every chance to graze my fingertips across her backside. Although, I didn't try anything too aggressive. Instead, I elected to take my time letting the tension build.

Mom deserved an Oscar for the performance she was giving. One moment, she'd be in the kitchen provocatively swaying her hips for me and the next she'd pass into the living room and give my dad a drink and kiss on the cheek. The guy had no idea what was going on under the roof of his own house.

After an entire week of this new dynamic, I decided to see if she'd let me go a bit further. Since it had already been established as normal for me to be lightly touching her, I only needed to let my hands begin to wander a bit more. I began to give her butt little squeezes, or let my fingers slide across the sides of her breasts when I hugged her goodnight.

Once or twice I tried getting my hand under her skirt again but she would always bat my hand away with a grin.

"Don't get too crazy," she would say quietly.

Once I tried to undo a couple of her blouse's buttons while sitting with her on the couch and having tea. She pushed my hand away a tad coldly.

"Be good now," she said.

It seemed like Mom was okay with flirting and lightly touching, but she was obviously drawing the line there. Just like before, despite how far we'd already gone, Mom had let the pendulum swing back a ways before drawing a line in the sand. She was establishing her boundaries a little bit behind where I'd already managed to get.

On one hand, it was frustrating. But on the other, I enjoyed the challenge of trying to get into her pants. She wasn't going to give herself up too easily, and that only made me want her more. Maybe Mom wanted to see how hard I was willing to work for it, to find out what she was really worth. She had given me a taste and then said, "let's see what else you've got."

Well I certainly wasn't giving up. I was just going to have to try harder.

I knew Mom got off on the danger of having Dad nearby, but I also suspected that him being home would prevent her from taking things too far. So I figured my best plan was to wait until he left for his golf game on Saturday. Unfortunately, it rained all day and he cancelled his game. Drat!

But I had waited long enough and needed to do something. I came upstairs after spending Saturday morning in my room to find Mom in the kitchen. Dad was out back bumming around in the garage but he had been coming in and out of the house all day.

"Morning, sleepy head," she greeted me with a smile. She was preparing a salad for her lunch.

"Hey, Mom," I said, kissing her cheek and leaning on the counter opposite her to admire her while she cut up some vegetables. She was wearing a green house dress, buttoned all the way up her front, with a yellow apron. The apron was tied tightly behind her waist, slimming her dress to hug her form perfectly. Her hips flared out beautifully.

We chatted about small things for a few minutes. Despite everything we'd already done, I suddenly felt nervous. I can't believe my own Mom was giving me butterflies, like I was back in grade-school with a crush. I took a deep breath to calm myself and approached her, beginning to play lightly with her hair.

"I was thinking, Mom, we should go shopping again this afternoon."

"I don't know, honey, I think I bought enough clothing on the other trip to last me a while."

"But you can never have enough new outfits."

"That's true, but I don't feel like going out today. Maybe another time." She gave no reaction to me touching her hair and now grazing my fingers down her back.

"What about a cup of tea in the living room?"

"No, I'm okay, honey. I had two cups this morning."

Why was she giving me such a hard time? Did she enjoy torturing me?

Just then Dad came into the kitchen. Mom batted my hands off of her a moment before he came around the corner. He loudly dragged a chair back from the table and plopped himself down.

"Christ, the weather is ugly out there today. I was going to break par this afternoon, for sure." Dad's mood was like a dark aura that filled the room, obviously upset at missing his weekly stress relief. "Grab me something to drink, Mar."

Mom leaned on the counter and simply looked at him, not bothering to mask her disdain. Then she took a beer from the fridge, opened it, and set it in front of him before turning to me.

"You know, maybe I could use a cup of tea," Mom quietly said. She untied her apron and hung it on the stove handle before walking out of the kitchen.

I chatted with Dad a bit while the water boiled, trying unsuccessfully to cheer him up. "Don't worry, Dad, the weather will be better next weekend," I said, crossing my fingers that I was right.

He snorted and pulled out his phone. In no time he was hypnotized by some video.

Mom was flipping through a fashion magazine as I entered the living room with the tray. I had poured two cups of green tea and included a brownie with a small fork for her, as well. I noticed that the top two buttons on the front of her dress had been undone as I sat down on the same couch as her, leaving some space between us.

"What are you looking at, Mom?" I asked her. She had stopped flipping and was looking at a photo of a woman about her age wearing a bright red dress.

"Oh, just looking for some inspiration for the next shopping trip."

"Yeah? Well, you'd look great in that," I told her.

She grinned, "I would?"

"Totally, you have great hips, like hers but a little nicer." I kept my voice down so Dad wouldn't hear.

Mom slid a little closer to me. "What about this one?" She flipped to another page a little further back. It showed a woman in a thin, gray, low-cut sweater. The woman was large-breasted and the sweater clung tightly to her curves.

"That could definitely be your style, Mom," I said. Then continued in a whisper, "especially with your tits."

She poked me teasingly. "Behave yourself."

"But I think a brighter color would suit you better. Maybe light blue?"

"Wow, I had no idea you had such a good eye for fashion. I'll have to bring you to the mall again soon."

Progress. I was on track. Now just keep pressing forward.

She continued flipping as we began to sip our tea. She stopped once or twice more to point out various outfits or styles and I continued subtly complimenting her within my responses. Before long, we had slid a couple more inches closer together.

At one point, Mom's hand had dropped to the hem of her dress and she began to play with it in her fingertips. After another minute, she started to ball it up and tug it slightly up her leg. Was she being deliberately provocative? I stared as her creamy, white thigh meat began to come into view.

"How does it look?" She asked, grinning.

I looked up suddenly. She was pointing at another photo.

"Beautiful," I said, my hand moving out and resting on her bare leg. She didn't push it away. Instead, she turned the page to reveal a photo of a couple sitting on the patio of a cafe in some European town.

"Mmm," she hummed, "do you think they're on a date?"

"For sure, Mom. It looks like she dressed up for him." The woman was wearing a tight black dress that stopped only half-way down her thighs.

"You don't think she's showing too much leg?" Mom asked.

"No way, she knows that she has gorgeous legs and she's showing them off. Isn't she, Mom?"

Mom chuckled. "Maybe she is."

Dad's voice boomed out of the kitchen then, "we got anything to eat around here?"

"Yes, dear. Leftovers in the fridge," Mom kept her voice monotone.

I left my hand on her thigh as she kept flipping. We could hear Dad in the kitchen. He was walking around, loudly opening and closing cupboards as he prepared a plate of food. He pushed a few buttons on the microwave and it fired up.

Mom put the magazine down and picked up another. As she begin turning pages I started to let my hand slide further up her thigh, now curling my fingers to grip her inner leg. She paid me no notice. How far could I go? I had to keep in mind that Dad was liable to walk out of the kitchen any moment.

Emboldened, I whispered to her, "do you know why you've been such a good drawing model, Mom?"

She looked at me with a questioning look, as if to say, "what exactly are you trying to do?" while at the same time already knowing, and being willing to play along.

"It's your skin, Mom. It's so smooth."

"... My skin?"

"Yeah, Mom. Your legs don't have a single blemish on them." I began to draw tiny circles on her inner thigh.

The microwave beeped it's finish and Dad opened and shut it's door before sitting at the table again.

"Oh, give me a break. My skin is far from perfect," Mom said.

"No way, Mom. It is perfect. The backs, too." I wrapped my hand totally around her inner leg and began rubbing the bottom of her leg.

"I bet you spend a lot of time taking care of this skin, don't you?"

She didn't answer, just continued breathing slowly, allowing me to explore.

I kept pushing, going further up her leg, soon having my finger tips only inches from her panties. I hesitated then, worried of going too far and scaring Mom off again. Mom suddenly grabbed my wrist. Damn, I was so close!

But to my surprise, rather than shoving it away, Mom drew it farther up her dress, right against her crotch! I immediately cupped her and pressed hard. Mom released my wrist and continued to peruse her magazine as if she was all alone on the couch, gently squeezing her legs together to trap my hand.

Mom really was like a locked treasure chest. Hard to crack, but suddenly the right combination would open her right up.

I rubbed up and down against her, watching as she tried to keep her face straight.

Bringing my face near hers, I whispered, "is this for me?"

Mom only squirmed against my hand.

"Hmm?" I reiterated my question.

"Maybe. If you try."

I rubbed a bit harder. Mom moaned under her breath.

"If he comes in here, he'll see you being bad," I said.

"Yeah? What will he see?"

"He'll see what you're giving me. What I'm going to take."

"Then take it, already," Mom panted.

I pulled her panties to the side and shoved two finger inside of her. She caught her breath hard, biting her lip to stifle a moan.

A second later there was a tiny creak from the other room as Dad stepped toward the kitchen door. Within a moment, Mom shoved my hand away and we separated ourselves on the couch. When Dad walked into the living room Mom was reading an article and I was taking a sip of tea, trying my best to look normal.

Dad sat down on his chair. "Well, don't you two look cozy." Maybe he wasn't so oblivious, after all?

"I need to put in a load of laundry. Thanks for the tea, honey." She stood up from the couch and entered her and Dad's bedroom. Coming out a moment later with a full laundry basket. She stared fervently into my eyes from behind Dad, who, once again, had his face buried in his phone. She went downstairs and, a minute later, I stood up and followed her.

She was standing in front of the washing machine loading it full of clothes as I approached her. She heard me behind her and glanced over her shoulder before bending forward and reaching under her dress to slide her soaked panties down. She stepped out of them and threw them in the washer before shutting the lid and starting the machine. Then she turned around and leaned against it, staring straight at me.

I grabbed her by the hips and lifted her onto the machine, sliding her dress up to her waist. I fell to my knees, my head now perfectly level with her bush, as she wrapped her legs behind my shoulders and grabbed me by the hair.

I dove into her sweet muff and ate her for everything I was worth, the tumbling sounds of the machine hiding her moans. The tension of the previous week broke like a dam gushing over my face as I tongued and licked her, in disbelief of her sweet, sweet taste.

She came quickly, holding my face firmly against her crotch throughout her final throws before pushing me away, panting.

"Get in your room," she demanded, standing.

Of course, I obeyed. She following me inside and closed the door, quickly pushing me onto the bed and fumbling with my jeans.

My cock sprang free and she inhaled it, sucking me even better than she had the previous week. I had flashbacks to the incredible sensation of her mouth draining me as her tongue, once again, snaked around my shaft and her thick, wet lips worked me up and down.
Unreal. Just thirty minutes ago I was being shot down in the kitchen and now I was on the verge of firing a load down Mom's throat. Something about Dad showing up really put her into a frenzy. She must really resent him.

Mom grabbed my shaft with her right hand and began jacking me off while swirling her tongue around my head. I couldn't make this last any longer and, with a heavy grunt, nutted hard. Again, Mom swallowed it down, wiping a drop from the corner of her mouth before sucking it off her finger. Fuck...

Standing, Mom straightened her dress and made for the door. "Dinner will be at six o'clock," she said over her shoulder as she left me collapsed on my bed, head spinning.

---

I knew better than to try something again the next day, or the one after that. At this point, I was learning how Mom worked. Give her some recharge time, let some tension build, then when she's ready, she'll let me know. I kept up the flirting, but didn't go beyond a few light touches here and there.

The following week, there were two separate nights when I heard through the vent that my parents were fighting again.

On Thursday morning, after the second fight, I decided to do an experiment. I needed to see what would happen in order to figure out what made Mom tick.

Mom and Dad were sitting together in silence having coffee and breakfast when I came upstairs.

"Morning," I said, before leaning over to kiss Mom on the corner of her mouth. "You look beautiful today." I smiled widely at her as I rubbed her back for a few moments.

Mom initially appeared surprised that I'd be so brazen in front of Dad, but a moment later a big grin broke out on her face and she beamed with pride. "Thank you, honey," she said.

"Something weird is going on with you lately, boy." Dad said mockingly.

I didn't look at him while I poured my coffee and spread some jam on a piece of toast. "Just giving Mom a compliment, Dad. Don't you think she deserves it?" Then I did look at him, keeping my face neutral and cocking my head to the side.

Mom held her breath, sitting up and suddenly becoming very attentive as Dad and I exchanged glares.

"When did you become such a Momma's boy?" He asked me.

"Is there something wrong with a guy appreciating his Mom?" I managed to keep my voice calm, despite the fear I felt inside. I had never stood up to Dad.

Mom's eyes darted back and forth between the two of us.

Dad appeared genuinely dumbfounded by the situation and let it go, shaking his head. "I've got to get to work. See you two later." He robotically kissed Mom's cheek and stood up.

"Goodbye, dear," Mom said as he left the kitchen.

Mom casually sipped her coffee, not saying anything to me, while Dad gathered up a few things from around the house and went out the door.

I finished my toast and brought my dishes to the sink. As I watched Dad in the driveway, I felt Mom behind me.

"That was very bold of you." She wrapped her arms around me, groping my package. My cock quickly came to life.

She massaged my hard rod for thirty seconds as, together, we observed Dad get into his truck and start the engine.

Turning, I watched Mom slide to her knees, sliding her hands down my torso and thighs and continuing to look up at me. She hugged my waist, letting the side of her face mash against my cock.

I watched in amazement as she started to mouth me over top of my pajama pants, working her lips around my fabric-covered cylinder. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dad pull out and drive away as Mom finally flipped my waistband down and inhaled my length.

I came less than a minute later. With Mom's prowess, she could make a blowjob go quick when she wanted to. She hungrily drank everything I gave her before standing up and kissing me full on the mouth. "Thank you for being so good to your mother," she whispered in my ear before leaving me standing alone in the kitchen.

I ended up being late for work, but I couldn't have cared less.

---

Over the next few weeks, I continued to discreetly flirt with and touch Mom, becoming more brazen with time. She ended up sucking me off a few more times, too. That usually happened when she was mad at Dad for something or after I had gotten her really worked up by touching her while he was in the other room.

One Saturday, after we had done another drawing session in the living room, Mom came and sat beside me. While looking at my drawings, her hand had journeyed to my crotch and found my hardness. After playing with it for a minute, she unclasped my pants and fished it out, her hand continuing to slide up and down my shaft. When she saw me squirming and knew that I was about to shoot my spunk, she said in a scolding tone, "you better not make a mess on this couch, Mister." Then she opened her mouth and covered my head a moment before I detonated. There was something about doing it in her living room that got me extra excited.             

I continued to be amazed at the effort and enthusiasm that she put into pleasuring me. Every blowjob felt absolutely amazing as she swirled her tongue around and around my head. She seemed to love having my thing in her mouth and would greedily engulf my entire shaft repeatedly until I ejaculated down her throat. Then she'd make eye contact with me while proudly swallowing my load. Those were the moments when I really knew that I had a mother who loved and cared about me. Sometimes a guy needs that.

She snuck down to my bedroom once more, as well, about an hour after I had heard my parents fighting. She posed for me again, telling me to draw her. But this time, after I instructed her to remove her robe, she was topless underneath. I spent fifteen minutes on two studies of her wonderful boobs before she straddled me and pulled my face between them, grinding her snatch against my hardness.

Like the first time, I had desperately tried to slide back far enough to get my tip to probe her entrance. But just as she felt me threatening to penetrate her, she had released a frustrated moan before sliding her groove backward, returning my tip to the safe zone.

"I'm sorry baby, we— we can't do that!" She had reluctantly wailed. "We can't commit incest."

I'm not sure which one of us was more frustrated in that moment.

Instead, she had continued to expertly work her hips forward and back until we both came from the exquisite friction. Both of our stomachs as been thoroughly painted with my jizz as we mashed and slid our torsos together.

I didn't try to get into her again after that. She was being firm with her limits and, all things considered, I was in a pretty good position. Most guys could only dream of getting sucked off once by their Mom, and here I was sneaking around with and getting regular blowjobs from mine. I resolved to enjoy what I had.

For the moment, at least.

--- --- ---

--- --- ---

Interlude 2

Sandra didn't like having to work the morning shift. Getting up early was tough for her, being a woman who much preferred the nights to the mornings. She loved staying up late with her thoughts and cigarettes. But lately she'd been staying up late for a different reason.

She shut off her alarm clock and rolled over to kiss her sleeping son. He briefly awoke at the feel of her mouth on his and returned the kiss before falling back into his slumber. Sandra smiled. He didn't have class that day, and, knowing him, he wouldn't stir for another few hours.

Spending the last month with Jace had been so special. The day after their first night together he had returned home from school to find her waiting for him on the couch. She had been bending over one of the arm rests, wearing nothing but a t-shirt which only covered the top half of her tush.

"What took you so long?" She'd asked him, her pussy peaking out and glistening with anticipation.

It hadn't taken him more than three seconds to drop both his book bag and his pants.

Since then they had scarcely missed a day of mating. Sandra smiled as she reminisced on those initial weeks of wild abandon.

She got in her car and left for work, arriving at the mall at 8:30 AM in order to get the store opened up for 9 o'clock.

Fashion wasn't actually a passion for her. Los Elegantes was really just a job, something to pay the bills. She knew today would be long. However, her anticipation for her weekend plans would get her through it.

She had recently gotten into contact with her father and they had made plans to see each other. She would be driving out Saturday morning to see him and she expected to be spending the night. Thinking about how she would wear one of those skimpy skirts got her all tingly. First she would waltz around in front of him, then she would catch him ogling her a few times just like he used to, and then...

The last month of her life had brought a lot of healing to her. It had been so therapeutic to set herself free. Free to do what she wanted. To reconnect with her son. To bond. To mate. She smiled as she pondered how quickly things could change. And how the path forward had always been right there in front of her.

As expected, the morning dragged on. At 1 PM she took her lunch break. And as she began walking to the food court she was met with a pleasant surprise.

"Maria!" she exclaimed, approaching the beautiful woman in the mall hallway. Wow, she's just as pretty as I remember her.

"Oh, Hi Sandra," Maria smiled at her, setting down her armload of shopping bags. The two women hugged lightly. Though they had only met once, there was a natural connection between them, as if they had known each other for years.

"Maria, I was just about to have lunch, please join me! I really want to talk with you."

"Of course, Sandra, I've just finished shopping and I was going to have something to eat, myself."

They each ordered a salad and sat down. Sandra had selected a table away from the crowd, wanting some privacy as she began their conversation.

"Maria, are you not with your son today?"

"No, Tyson normally has to work during the week."

"Oh, what a shame. He is such a sweet boy... and so handsome!" Sandra lightly teased, touching Maria's arm.

Maria blushed. "Yes... yes, he is."

"You two have a beautiful relationship. In fact, your advice was perfect for me. It turned out that all my son, Jace, needed was a bit of inspiration to start noticing me, too." Sandra beamed.

Maria's eyes opened. "You mean... you two have become closer? Oh, Sandra, that's wonderful!"

"Mhmmmm," Sandra hummed. "Much closer."

An awkward tension suddenly arrived, as if the two women were perched on the edge of a precipice. Would they continue forward?

Maria broke the silence. "...Much closer, you say?"

Sandra blushed, too nervous to speak. Until now, her new relationship with Jace had been a secret.

"How close?" Maria pressed.

Sandra took a deep breath. Then spoke, "Maria, can I trust you?"

"Of course," her response came quickly as she perked up. Maria also felt the unspoken bond that the two mothers shared.

Sandra spoke again, a bit reluctantly. "Maria, Jace and I... we've been... doing things. Do you understand?"

Maria looked uncertain, "What have you been doing? Going for walks together? Does he shop with you, too?"

"No, Maria," Sandra chuckled. "We've been doing... naughty things."

Maria's eyes suddenly opened wide as she shyly gazed downward. "Oh, my..."

Sandra voice took a slightly more serious tone, "Do you and your son... do naughty things?"

Maria couldn't meet Sandra's eyes. Her cheeks went strawberry red. "Yes... Yes, we do." Her admission came reluctantly but seemed to take a weight off of her chest.

"I knew it!" Sandra exclaimed, the tension gone. "I could tell by the way he looked at you and touched you. Oh, Maria, isn't it wonderful, feeling him inside of you? Your own son!"

"Inside? Oh, Sandra, we haven't gone that far. But, yes, being... intimate with him has been wonderful. It makes me feel so youthful and sexy."

Sandra looked surprised. "You mean... you haven't actually... done it? He hasn't tried?"

"No, we haven't. I mean... I think about it. I know he wants it. He's been trying. But... I just can't cross that line."

Sandra listened empathetically and took Maria's hand in hers before responding. "You're right. It is a big decision. But, believe me, I am so happy that I took that step with Jace. You musn't deny him, Maria, a sweet boy like Tyson, he deserves it. Don't you think?"

Maria thought for a moment, then spoke. "It's not that I don't think he deserves it. He does. It's just that I don't know if I can bring myself to do it. What would the world think of me? What kind of mother would I be if I let... incest happen between us?"

"Our world is cruel, Maria. It is quick to judge and slow to understand," Sandra waxed philosophical. "There are a lot of ways to show love, but the truth that I've grown to understand, Darling, is that incest is a pathway to the purest connection that two people can share. It's a beautiful thing. But, unfortunately, our world... our society... it isn't ready to accept that. And that's okay."

Maria listened, her eyes wide.

Sandra continued, driving the nail deeper. "Maria, let me guess, you're having problems with your husband?"

"I... yes. Yes, I am," Maria confessed, emotion in her voice. "How did you know?"

Sandra smirked. "Trust me, I know women. I meet lots of them each week. They come to the store for an escape, looking to feel pretty and appreciated. I can see when the pressures of home life are getting to them, when the pressure of pleasing their husbands is wearing them down. When they've given so much and received so little. All they want is to be noticed."

Maria nodded, listening intently.

"I can read a situation like yours," Sandra continued. "Haven't you lived for your husband long enough? Lived for society long enough? Oh, sweetheart, it's time for you to make yourself happy. Take control of your life, Darling. You deserve it." She finally released Maria's hand.

After a long pause, Maria spoke. "Thank you, Sandra. I think I really needed to hear that."

Sandra had to return to the store then and stood from the table, leaning down to kiss Maria's cheek and thank her once more for joining her for lunch. Before she left, she slipped Maria a card with her number on it. "Don't hesitate to reach out," she said.

Looking back, Sandra saw Maria sitting for several more minutes at their table, peacefully alone with her thoughts.

--- --- ---

--- --- ---

Part 3

After a full month of consistent warmth from Mom, she suddenly seemed to become colder and closed off. The oral sex stopped and so did the kissing. She didn't respond to any of my touches or flirtations and she even lightly pushed my hands away when I was too forward. I knew that she'd been a bit hot and cold before, and that sometimes she needed space, but this felt like she had chosen to put her walls back up permanently. I worried that my fears were coming true and that she'd had a change of heart around our new relationship. Maybe she even felt guilty. Damn, I had been so close!

After a week of getting nowhere with her, I accepted that the fun was probably over. It had been a great run and, honestly, I'd gotten farther in my journey than I thought I would. We had made some great memories that Mom and I would always share.

The next Friday night, Mom told Dad and I not to make any plans for the next day because we'd be having a special family dinner.

She spent all afternoon on Saturday cooking a roast, with steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, and plenty of fixings. It wasn't rare for Mom to put extra effort into a meal, but this was a lot, even for her. Honestly, I was confused. Was she trying to mend her problems with Dad by doubling down on her role as a housewife? The truth was, I hadn't heard them fighting all week. Maybe they had started to fix things. That was bad news for me.

I tried lending a hand but she didn't let me help at all, shooing me out of the kitchen every time I tried to pick up a spoon or chop something.

After she finished preparing everything she went into her room to shower and change after sweating and slaving all day over the stove. Then she called Dad and I to the table.

My eyes almost bulged out of my face when I saw her. She had changed into the burgundy skirt that she'd worn for me before and her hips and butt looked even better than I'd remembered. Flashbacks of lifting it up and pressing my hand against her panty-covered crotch shot through my mind. It took everything I had to resist simply grabbing her. At this point, she was just rubbing it in. Up top, she wore a frilly, white blouse, modestly buttoned up to her neck. It fit her perfectly, hugging her form and really molding to her voluptuous chest. Mom had curled her hair and pinned it up in two tight buns, letting a few loose, wavy strands hang down to frame her lovely face. She wasn't wearing much makeup, but I think she'd dabbed on a touch of blush. Never losing her classiness, she truly looked pretty enough to be on the cover of one of her magazines. Nobody could deny that my mother was an extremely elegant woman.

Dressed like that and standing in her kitchen over the feast she'd prepared for her men, Mom really looked the part of a classic 50s housewife. She absolutely must have been trying for that look. So that's why her and Dad have been getting along so well. I guess all the fighting got to her and now she's decided to give him what he wants. Damn, I thought as I continued to construct a working hypothesis to explain her behavior.

As we sat together at the table enjoying dinner, Dad did most of the talking. He loved what his wife had done and was gleeful. And to top it off, apparently he had out-shot all of his golf buddies that afternoon. Nothing could bring down his mood tonight.

Mom stood up to get him fresh beers a few times during the meal, kissing his cheek and rubbing his shoulders each time after setting his drink in front of him. He had come home from golf already a bit buzzed and, at this rate, he'd be drunk by the time we finished dinner.

As Dad spoke, Mom would affectionately rub his arm and encourage him to continue entertaining us with his glory stories. My hypothesis was only strengthened when she would then say to him, "of course, you're the best golfer in the club. You've got so much natural talent, and is there anyone there with more dedication than you?"

"Well, sweetheart, I must admit that it's nice for somebody to notice!" He responded. I cringed internally as Mom squeezed his hand and smiled warmly at him.

Dad was the last to finish eating and, after pushing his empty plate toward Mom, leaned back and belched loudly. "What a meal!" He loudly declared. "Mar, you've got to cook like this more often." To my disbelief, Mom simply took his dirty dishes to the sink and said not a word about his rudeness. I had never known her to tolerate such a display in her kitchen.

Even after all of this odd behavior, I was still surprised when Mom then poured him a glass of whiskey. Especially considering that she usually didn't even allow hard liquor in the house. It was official, Mom had either gone nuts or she had decided that she was willing to do anything to save her marriage. By the time she had finished tidying up the kitchen, Dad was slurring his words.

After pouring him yet another glass of whiskey, Mom told Dad to relax in the living room. It wasn't long after that that he was quietly dozing off in the chair. Mom gently woke him up, telling him to go to bed and leading him to their room. I bet he passed out like a rock when his head hit the pillow.
I wondered if Mom would come back out and join me for a cup of tea, but when she didn't, I went down to my room as well. Though dismayed, I was able to accept that the fun was not going to continue with Mom. There would be no more "playing" with her.

---

I also fell asleep early. However, I woke up a few hours later, thirsty. I decided to head upstairs and get a glass of water.

Quietly, I left my room and walked toward the stairs. I could hear Dad snoring loudly through that vent. He was in for a Sunday hangover, for sure. I felt bad for Mom having to sleep next to that.

The living room was completely dark as I passed through it and entered the kitchen. As silently as I could, I got a glass and filled it with water from the tap, leaning on the counter as I sipped. The room was dim, only illuminated by a bit of light from the streetlamps.

"Can't sleep?" Mom's soft voice startled me.

I turned and saw her leaning against the door frame. I hadn't heard her bedroom door open... She must have already been in the dark living room while I walked right past her, probably laying down on the couch.

"Just thirsty," I said.

Mom entered the kitchen, walking slowly toward me. Her face carried a serious expression as her eyes studied me.

Mom had undone the buns in her still-wavy hair, which now lay loose on her shoulders. She was wearing a long, red nightgown which hung well below her knees, but clung tightly to her entire body. Her figure was beautifully outlined by the silky fabric, her nipples visibly poking through. No bra? Somehow I just knew that she wasn't wearing panties, either.

I finished the last of my water and Mom took the empty glass out of my hand and set it in the sink. Then she pressed herself against my side, lovingly wrapping her arms around my torso. She brought her face to my cheek and warmly kissed me. The kiss carried an extra degree of affection.

"I owe you an apology," she said.

"You do? For what?" I asked, my heart rate increasing.

"You've been so good to me. And so patient." Mom kissed my cheek again. My cock rose well past half-mast and tented my loose pajamas. After starving all week, any intimacy was incredibly arousing.

I wrapped my hand around Mom and placed it on her low back, the silky material easily gliding across her skin as I gently rubbed up and down. Delight washed over me as I enjoyed the feeling of her body, her shape all too familiar.

"I've made you wait so long. I've been such a tease. Please understand that I just needed time to be ready."

"To be ready for what? Dad's dinner night?"

Mom chuckled and smiled warmly. "Dad's night? Don't be silly, honey. Your father is fast asleep and he won't be waking up for a long time." She looked directly into my eyes, suddenly serious. "This is our night."

"Mom? What are you talking abou—"

She cut me off, pressing her mouth against mine, kissing me with a fervency I had never felt from her. There was a new level of decisiveness in the way her tongue snaked into my mouth. In fact, I had sensed it in everything she was doing — the way she moved, the way she touched me, the way she spoke.

We embraced and necked passionately in the dark kitchen. After a full two minutes, we were both hungrily mouthing the other, seemingly trying to make up for the past week.

So Mom wasn't cutting me off, after all? I decided that it was best to stop trying to understand and just accept whatever happened.

"Take me downstairs, baby," she whispered between kisses, now pecking me lovingly all over my face.

I didn't need to be told twice and lead her slowly by the hand through her living room, and into the basement. She followed me into my bedroom and closed the door behind her.

I went to my bed and clicked on the lamp before grabbing my sketchbook from the desk, beginning to think of which pose I would instruct her to begin with.

"Put your book away," Mom's voice was firm. "We don't need that."

Huh? She didn't want me to draw her?

Mom walked slowly to my bed, letting her fingers sensuously scrape along my belly as she passed me. She leaned forward and pulled her long nightgown upward, sliding it above her knees as she bent her left leg to crawl onto my mattress. Provocatively raising her beautiful rump high in the air, she inched toward my pillows, finally arriving and dropping her upper body to my bed sheet. The side of her face pressed firmly against my bed, she looked back at me and slowly continued to pull her gown further up her thighs, not stopping until the very bottom of her crack became visible.

My heart beat out of my fucking chest as the implications of what she was doing dawned on me. I dove onto the bed, shoving my pajama pants to my ankles to free my ready member.

Mom was nearly laying flat on my bed, only keeping her hips slightly raised above the mattress as her butt slowly swayed back-and-forth, beckoning me.

Each of my hands landed on a one of her curvy globes. Bringing my face to her legs and beginning to kiss the back of her thighs, I began to slide her gown even higher, up over her meaty bottom. Mom cooed her approval as my mouth climbed toward it's target.

She inched her knees farther apart, widening her legs and truly displaying herself to me. As I continued to kiss my way up her thighs, I came face-to-face with both of my mother's holes, blatantly exhibited in the dim light. Could anything have been sexier than Mom trusting me with the sight of her most intimate places?

I stared at the astonishing view before me for only a moment before losing myself to carnal passion and diving face-first into her exquisite muff. With my face now pressed firmly against her nether region, I greedily inhaled deeply of her scent before beginning to tongue her.

She continued to moan and whimper as I serviced her, particularly loving the way my hands snaked under her gown to grope each of her bare tits. She would grow louder each time I pressed my tongue against her clit, but when I wormed it through her fleshy lips and into her vagina, she urgently shoved her hips backward against my face. Mom wanted to be filled.

Before long, she had soaked my entire face so that when I finally pulled it away, her intoxicating aroma continued to fill my nostrils with each breath.

Feeling my tongue leave her, Mom groaned and rose up onto her knees, chasing my face. Never before had she appeared so available to me, so blatantly ready to rut.

Her face still twisted to the side, she watched as I scurried into position behind her, setting my rigid cock along her ass and sawing it through her slippery crack.

"Rub it," she panted.

I squeezed her glorious cheeks around my thick shaft. They were easily meaty enough to completely envelop me as I continued my fucking motion, now within the fleshy tunnel I had created.

"Rub it on me."

I humped harder, the bottom of my rod scrubbing Mom's backdoor. So wet and soft, so good.

"No, baby, rub it... where you're not supposed to!" Her voice had grown frantic.

Realization dawned. I released her cheeks and pulled my shaft back before grasping its base in my left hand and guiding it forward to nestle within her lips. My head sliced far enough forward to hit her clit. Mom inhaled sharply before releasing a long moan. Her hips followed me as I slid backward, fighting to maintain contact.

Both her mouth and eyes opened wide as she felt my manhood in such a dangerous place. Honestly, with her soaking wet orifice practically begging me inside, it was incredibly difficult to resist the urge to simply line myself up and impale her. But, somehow I knew that it would be wrong. As hard as it was, I had to wait.

Mom's face took a frightened expression against my sheets as she looked back and watched the action between her legs. From her unique viewpoint, she saw her own body writhing in need and following my cock forward and back as I sawed against her. She twisted her upper body to the side and her left hand shot back, finding and gripping my right wrist as if it was a life preserver. Her nails dug into my skin as she squeezed with all her might. My right hand gripped her wrist too, locking our arms together as we looked into each other's eyes. Mom was equal parts afraid and horny as her mind battled her body.

"You... you wouldn't abandon me, would you?" Mom's voice was pleading.

Then it hit me. Of course, Mom hadn't been holding out real sex because it was incest. We were already way past that. She was holding out to protect herself. She had probably saved herself for marriage, then given herself to Dad only to be abandoned sexually. He had gone for years barely touching her and had even cheated on her. The pain must have been devastating for such a tender woman, with so much love to give. Now she was on the verge of giving herself to another man, me. She was afraid of the same thing happening, the same pain returning. Mom was starving for basic emotional commitment.

"Never, Mom. I would never abandon you."

"You promise?" Her hips made a tiny hooking motion, moving forward then back, catching my cockhead with the entrance of her womanhood with a wink of her hips, scooping my helmet into her vagina. Her movements were surprisingly deft. Even now, Mom didn't cease to amaze me.

"Yes, I promise. I won't leave you. Not ever!" I offered my deepest reassurances.

"Ooooohhhh, please forgive me, babyyy," she moaned, pushing backward against my pole, popping me past her resistance and quickly getting two inches inside of her.

I felt her delightful tightness tugging on me, like a million tiny tongues drawing me into her as I sunk deeper. I now understood clearly that it had needed to be her who first crossed the forbidden boundary. That was the only way. It could have only happened when she was ready.

"Be gentle with me." Her final permission arrived at last.

Warmth. Nothing but maternal warmth engulfed my being as I fully slid into Mom. Lost in the softness of her body, the flesh of her ass against my hips and her back against my chest as I collapsed forward, I fucked into her. Drunk on beautiful incest, we rutted without thought, letting our bodies do as they pleased.

Watching my shiny shaft move in and out of her, each time momentarily gripped by her nether lips as I drew back, was a surreal sight.

"Ahh, ahh, ahhh, ohh, oooohhhhh!" Mom panted with each thrust.

Mom's already soaked pussy seemed to get even wetter as we fucked, using our grips on each other's arms to thrust ourselves together. Mom loved finally being filled and stretched and was pushing backward toward me almost as much as I thrust into her. It was beautiful to watch her fully surrender to her body's needs as she fought to get me deeper into her.

This was it, what I had worked for — motherfucking. Terrifying and thrilling. I understood that this was simply the best pussy a man could have — his own mother's.

Finally I let go of her arm to grip her hips with both hands. Mom brought her left hand back to the mattress beside her face, steadying herself.

Slowing my thrusts, I began to drill deeper into her. I wanted to press as far as I could, to be in Mom's core. Sinking to my hilt, I lay on top of her, flattening her on the mattress. Then I pounded her without pulling back out, simply hammering my already-buried cock against her.

Mom's moans turned to primal grunts. "Ohh, uh, uh ,uh, yessssssss, like that, like that!"

I came soon after, my orgasm almost painful in its intensity. "Uhh, ohh, Mommmmm!" I groaned as I poured myself into her.

I fell on top of her after fully spending everything I had. To her delight, I continued giving her firm but short thrusts before softening and slipping out of her. Any worry I had that she would regret what we'd done vanished as she continued to moan warmly and cup my hands over her breasts.

Mom and I lay together, cuddled into a ball and whispering for a short while while we recovered. Then I rolled her onto her back and pulled her gown fully off of her. As I crawled on top, she took my newly-hard cock in hand and guided it inside as she wrapped her legs around me. She drew me inside with a devilish grin on her face, her trepidation now gone.

After sinking in, I pulled back and pushed forward again, my tool quickly soaked in her juices.

I was enthralled by the sight of her lips as they spread and wrapped around my head. Every crinkle of skin, pubic hair, smell, freckle, was special to me as I admired her most private region, the region that so few people had ever been allowed to see.

"Appreciate me, baby. Appreciate your mother," she whispered to me as I slid back and forth in the channel that had birthed me.

And I did appreciate her. I fucked her faster and faster. Her moans grew in volume as we shagged.

We came at the same time, her fingernails digging into my back and her legs pulling me tightly into her.

"Give it to me, sweetie, give it all to your mother..." she whimpered into my ear as I spermed her.

Our second fuck of the night had lasted much longer than the first, but not as long as the third.

Laying with her after I had spent everything I had, I knew that this wouldn't simply end. Something unstoppable had begun. From this moment forward, my mother would always be available to me, and I to her. Any other woman that I would bed during my lifetime would always be second to Mom, whom I could never abandon. Our incestuous bond would forever hold me to my oath.

Mom and I lay awake, talking and stroking each other before finally sleeping lightly for two hours. In the early morning, Mom quietly returned to her marriage bed.

---

I tried my best to play it cool over the next few days but I simply couldn't stop grinning. I had sex with my mom! I was permanently giddy as memories of that night flooded my mind. She hadn't been my first lay. I had dated a couple girls back in High School. But they were young and silly, nothing compared to Mom. Coupling with a real woman was on another level.

I couldn't wait to do it again and, as it turned out, I didn't have to wait long.

The following Wednesday morning Mom was already dressed and done up when I found her having breakfast with Dad in the kitchen. She said that she was going out soon for a morning coffee with a new friend. The thing was, she had chosen to wear that same burgundy skirt again. The one she knew that I loved.

The three of us followed our usual morning routine, eating toast and making a bit of small talk before Dad left for work.

As soon as he was out the door, Mom stood and brought the dishes to the sink where she began to wash them while looking out the front window.

"Come help me with these dishes," she said to me, glancing backward over her shoulder and wiggling her butt suggestively.

A moment later, I was behind her, my hands already kneading her wonderful ass and beginning to slide her skirt upward.

"Mmmmm," Mom murmured. "We'll have to get these dishes washed quickly. I don't want you to be late for work."

"Forget work," I nearly yelled as I pushed my shorts downward, my cock springing up. I brought my right hand to her front while my left finished hoisting her skirt over her ass.

My fingers found her crotch and I dug them under the fabric, pulling her lacy panties to the side and cupping her sex. She was wet already and my middle finger easily slipped inside.

"Oooooo," Mom moaned, gripping the counter top and pushing her butt backward toward me. "Quickly," she panted.

What was the rush? I didn't understand until I realized that Dad was still standing in the driveway, fumbling with his keys as he tried to enter his truck.

Knowing what she wanted, I yanked her panties down. She bent forward, giving me access, and I quickly positioned myself before shoving all the way into her.

"Ohhhhhh, yes!" Mom moaned, permitting herself to be loud as she looked at her husband outside.

It was a surreal moment, watching my father start up his truck and drive away as I was balls-deep in his wife, but it seemed to drive Mom absolutely wild as she frantically jerked forward and back against me.

"Fu— fuck me!" Mom grunted. I had never heard her use that word before. "Fuccckkkk," she wailed, like the word was being yanked out of her. For all I knew, it was the first time she'd ever said it.

I really started pounding her then, her thick juices leaving my rod slippery enough that I easily slid in and out. I roughly groped her with my left hand while bringing my right in front of her face. Quickly she sucked my middle finger into her lips, cleaning her own flavor off of it.

"Ohhh, ohh, ohh, OHHHH, YESSSS!!!" Mom came hard a moment later, her cries filling the entire house.

I gave her three more deep thrusts before spunking her. As Mom collapsed forward, panting heavily, over the counter, I slipped out of her and backed away. A long string of my sticky sploodge momentarily connected my shiny rod to Mom before stretching and breaking apart. More spilled out of Mom's used hole and splatted into a slimy pool on the tile floor. The rest of what didn't stay inside of her began to run down her inner thighs.

Mom brought her hand between her legs, cupping herself and trying to contain what juice hadn't already run out. Then she pulled her panties back up, blocking anything else from excreting itself, licked off of her fingers, and straightened her skirt. She didn't bother going to the bathroom to clean up.

And like that, we said goodbye, me going to work and her leaving to see her friend. She seemed to love going out with my gunk drying on her crotch and legs. It was almost like she was happy to be in public with my mark on her. She had put a lot of thought into her decision to let me in, and she would now own it proudly.

Curious, I had asked her who this new friend was but she had only winked and told me I'd already met her once.

---

Mom and I really found a new dynamic after that, always finding time to squeeze in a quick romp here and there. A couple more times over the next month Mom snuck down to my room again where we could really enjoy each other. But she always had to get back upstairs to her own bed early, before Dad woke up.

And, of course, Saturdays were ours. As soon as Dad drove away, we'd be at each other. Often not stopping until we heard him arrive back home hours later.

She seemed to like the sneaking around, really getting off on it. It made her hot to fuck me while Dad was home, knowing how close the danger of being caught in the act was. But to tell the truth, the excitement of taking that risk wore off pretty fast for me. I wanted us to have the freedom to do as we pleased. Fuck when we wanted, rut all night, then wake up beside each other.

Within weeks I had pulled the trigger and moved out. With plenty of money saved up, I could afford to rent a decent, one-bedroom apartment and, for once in my life, I didn't live in a basement. I wasn't far from home either. Mom could visit easily on the weekends, or weekday evenings. Often, she would come over and pose in my living room while I drew her. That was one tradition we would never lose.

I'll never forget how proud I was the first time I called Dad to tell him that Mom was going to stay the night at my place. Of course, he didn't know that she'd be sleeping in my bed with me, but it was so satisfying to know that she had chosen me over him. There was something about the way he'd said, "alright, son, you two enjoy yourselves" that made me wonder if he knew more than he let on.

I always wondered why my folks never got a divorce. I guess separation just wasn't socially acceptable in their generation. Given everything that happened between Mom and I, I figured she wouldn't care about what others thought, but she's funny like that. Or maybe she just didn't want to lose the house, the cozy home she'd decorated and built. My mother and I were similar that way. Once we get our hands on something important to us, we never let it go.