URL: http://web.archive.org/web/http://www.literotica.com/s/brushing-moms-hair-ch-05
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: Brushing Mom's Hair Ch. 05
Tags: Brushing Mom's Hair Ch. 05, alwayswantedto, mother son incest, mother son sex, mother sex, son sex, reluctant, seduction, milf sex, teasing, older woman, behind

Summary: Son braids Mom's hair for Mother's day.

All characters are 18 years or older.

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

After that, I had to get out of the house. It was just too hard to hang around watching
Mom without touching her. So I left. I called a couple of buddies but they were already
doing stuff and I didn't actually feel like company anyway. I needed to be alone and
ended up taking a drive in the country, following secondary and even gravel roads
through rolling hill country.

It was a good choice. My thoughts of Mom intermingled well with the music on the 'Classics'
station that played vintage rock'n'roll from her era. I passed through miles of beautiful
country without really paying attention to it, my mind playing a fiction movie starring
me and Mom, not much older than me, as I imagined she would look. We did things I
would do with a girl my age, went to movies, burger and pizza places, and parties,
sometimes hanging out with my friends, more often just being by ourselves. It was
a life with Mom more integrated in my world, before she met Dad.

Dad. How could I get Mom away from him? He hardly traveled for business anymore. I
wanted to get him away for a night or two so I could be alone with Mom, so I could
wake her in the morning with tender caresses. Or maybe I could find an excuse for
Mom to visit some relative or friend that lived within driving distance but far enough
that we could do a road trip with an overnight stop at a motel. But neither was an
option until school was done and that was weeks away. I couldn't wait that long. I
had to get Mom alone some other way.

My thoughts turned toward tonight. Tonight I would braid Mom's hair. I could imagine
her in the bathroom, braiding together strands of hair while I watched her in the
mirror, proudly showing me her tits, arching her back to tighten her tummy and lift
her nipples high, pushing her bare ass against my cock, embedding it the crack of
her ass.

WHOAAA! Jesus! I scrambled to get the car straight, hands flailing on the wheel. This
way, back ... over correcting ... back again, avoiding the ditch, up onto the road
and back to my own side.

"JESUS!" I yelled, looking in the mirror at the car rapidly disappearing down the
road, a hand held straight up outside the driver's window, obviously giving me the
finger. Relief flooded over me and I laughed, nervously and loud.

"Jesus ... fuck," I said. "Keep your mind on the road, Mike," I yelled at myself.


I looked down at my lap, at the huge bulge still residing there, concrete evidence
of where my mind had been seconds ago.

"You almost killed me, you prick!" I laughed.

I slowed down and looked around at the scenery but my thoughts soon returned to Mom
though I resisted playing another bathroom scene in my mind. I was partly successful.


I was late for dinner, quite late. It was almost dark when I got home and Dad admonished
me as soon as I came in the door.

"Where have you been?" Then, not waiting for an answer, "You said you'd do your mother's
hair for her today."

"Sorry Dad," I said. "I went for a drive and lost track of time. Is Mom mad?"

"No. She went to warm up your dinner when she heard you pull in. She's never mad at
you, you know that."

I went into the kitchen. Mom was standing in front of the microwave waiting for it
to finish, facing me with her right hand and hip resting against the counter. Her
amused eyes glanced toward the living room and Dad when she saw me, then returned
to me, arched high. Her robe was cinched tightly around her waist and, seeing she
was already changed for bed, I realized how late I really was. My eyes traced appreciatively
down her body, past the robe and along her legs to the fluffy slippers on her feet,
and back. I wasn't shy. I didn't mind if she saw my thoughts reflected in my face
and my actions.

"Sorry, Mom." I quietly offered.

"There's no reason to be sorry," Mom replied. "Did you have a nice drive?"

"Yeah."

"Get thing's all sorted out?"

"Yeah."

"It's amazing how a drive or a long walk can do that."

"Yeah."

Just then, the microwave buzzed. Mom waited until the fifth buzz before opening the
door. She never opened the door until the buzzing was done and always gave me heck
when I did, saying there was lingering radiation that wasn't good for me. She handed
me the plate with a warning that it was hot and told me to sit down. She poured a
large glass of milk and brought it to me, sitting down at the table in the chair across
the corner from mine. She smiled while I ate but let me eat without interruption,
not talking until I was almost finished. Her presence made my chest feel tight and
my skin hypersensitive.

"So," she said huskily, "are you going to braid my hair for me?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice, afraid it would break into an unmanly squeak.

"Good," Mom smiled, her foot rubbing my shin briefly before she stood. "Come up after
you put your dishes away."

She paused just before the door and turned half back to face me, "Maybe you should
put your pajamas on before you come. It might take a while."

I was vaguely aware of Mom telling Dad she was going upstairs so I could braid her
hair and that he should lock the doors and turn the lights out when he came up. I
was already imagining the feel of her hair, and her soft behind.

I had to run really hot water on my hand to shock my mind off of Mom but it was the
cold water that finally dampened my boner enough that I could leave the kitchen and
walk past Dad on the way upstairs. I rushed to my room and put my pajamas on in record
time. It was all I could do not to run to Mom's room.

She was waiting for me, seated on the bench in front of her makeup dresser, where
she had been the first time she'd let me touch her. As then, I approached her back
slowly. Her hair was spread evenly across her back, outside her robe. As I neared,
I could see that her robe was open down the front, about four inches apart, not enough
to bare her breasts but my cock still stiffened to half mast.

Her smile was alluring and knowing, aware of the effect she wrought upon my male sensitivities.
Hovering behind her, my eyes couldn't stay on hers and were pulled down her reflection,
through the gap in her robe, between her hidden breasts and over her slightly pouting
tummy with its sexy, beckoning navel, and on to her flesh colored panties.

"Do you like pussy willows?" she said, mouth turned up in one corner in obvious amusement.


There was a faint design etched in the front of Mom's panties but that wasn't what
I was looking at, and she knew it.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," I answered, playing it up.

"A connoisseur, are you?"

"Yes. Yes I am, of sorts."

Mom's smile broadened in delight and I could feel an intense enjoyment spreading through
my own body from this playfulness.

"Perhaps you'd like a closer look?"

Mom's knees parted a little, exposing more of her panties.

"I would certainly appreciative that. I think you have a rarity there, a real collector's
item."

"Really?" Mom cried, opening her legs a little more, enough for me to see the sexy
way her thighs widened as they flattened on the seat. "What makes you think that?"


"There's a hint, a lascivious quality. I can't quite explain it, but your item seems
to possess a life force that cannot be denied."

I thought that sounded really lame but Mom seemed to like what I'd said. Her legs
opened even more and her panties puffed forward delineating their underlying sculpture
so finely that a permanent memory was burnt into my retinas, forever associating that
particular image in my mind with the word 'pussy'.

"That may be the finest example of a pussy ... willow that I've ever seen. But, of
course, I'll have to take a closer look to be sure."

"I don't know," Mom said, her voice uncertain. "My husband's just downstairs."

"But surely he wouldn't mind," I protested. "It is in the name of art, after all."


Now that got a huge smile from Mom. I was sure I had hit pay dirt and was about to
lean over her so I could reach down and take my prize in hand but a creak from the
hall made me stiffen -- not where you think -- my whole going rigid in fear.

Mom's knees snapped shut and her robe was quickly closed and securely tied. I had
the presence of mind to take a handful of her hair and start separating it into strands,
just before Dad walked through the bedroom door.

"Still at it?" Dad asked, casting a quick glance our way on his way to the bathroom.


"We just got started," Mom said. "Will it bother you, us being here?"

Yes, I thought. Let's go downstairs.

"Nope," Dad doused that idea as he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door
almost shut. The tinkle of pee followed seconds later.

I pressed myself into Mom's hair, between her shoulder blades, nudging my cock suggestively
into her back.

"We could do this downstairs, Mom, so Dad can go to sleep," I suggested.

"He'll fall asleep anyway," she answered nonchalantly stroking her hair.

I began a braid, for real, to the sound of Dad brushing his teeth. Mom was silent
while I worked, her eyes averted. She didn't look at me until the braid was almost
done but Dad entered the room just then and she looked his way. Ignoring my presence,
Dad proceeded to undress and get into his pajamas. I started another braid as he slid
under the covers, picked up a book, and began to read.

"You're not tired?" Mom asked.

"No, not really," Dad replied without looking up.

There was no sound except the faint sound of me twisting Mom's hair and Dad flipping
a page. I finished the braid and started on another.

"Did you take your pill?"

Long pause. "No."

"Cliff, you know better."

Dad didn't respond.

"Cliff."

"I think I can sleep without it."

"You'll fidget around and keep me awake," Mom complained.

"No I won't. ... If I do, I'll take one."

"Promise?"

Promise.

More time passed in silence, Dad reading, me braiding, and Mom sitting calmly on the
bench not looking at either of us. I had completed four long braids and thought I
was finished but Mom indicated the sides of her head, toward the front where her hair
was shorter. I began doing a couple of short braids on each side.

I stepped close to do these, leaning over Mom's head and shoulders. I couldn't help
pressing my cock into her back again, feeling her warmth of her skin through the robe
now that her hair was separated into braids. Looking along the side of Mom's head,
I could see her robe had parted a bit in front but it was closed sufficiently for
shadows to hide her charms. I glanced at the mirror and saw that Mom was watching
me. She kept her eyes on mine as her left hand, the one farthest from Dad, appeared
in front of her robe and pulled it apart just enough to allow the light to shine on
her bare, left tit.

I pressed my cock harder into her back and she pushed back, arching and rubbing against
me. I finished the two little braids on that side and switched over to the other side.
Mom's hands switched too and I was soon watching her right tit. Whereas I had been
able to watch the other nipple grow, this one was already extended. Dad flipped another
page and I ground my cock into my mother's back. I don't how I managed not to groan
out loud.

When I finished the last braid, Mom stood. We were done. Why hadn't she come downstairs?
She stepped around the bench seat and walked around the end of the bed, heading for
the bathroom. I followed, but turned to go out the bedroom door.

"Goodnight," I said to both of them.

"Goodnight, son," Dad responded.

"Where are you going?" Mom said. "You're not finished yet."

"Not finished?" I mumbled.

"No," Mom said, holding her hand out to me. "You need to rub a little oil in my braids
to make them soft and shiny." She shook her hand, beckoning impatiently. "Come on."


Mom led me into the bathroom, leaving the door open so wide that we couldn't see Dad
reflected in the mirror, or he us. She picked a squeeze bottle up and handed it to
me.

"Here," she said. "Rub this into my braids."

I squeezed some of the clear, light oil into the palm of my hand.

"Not too much," Mom said.

I started running my palm down her braid. Looking nervously at the door, reassured
by the sound of a flipping page, I pressed forward and applied my stiffness to Mom's
bottom.

"That's it," Mom said aloud. "Rub it in good."

I did. I took Mom seriously about rubbing the oil into her hair but I kept shoving
my cock up and down her soft behind. I lost myself in that and was on the third long
braid when I realized I hadn't heard a page flip for a while. Anxiety welled up from
my stomach, spreading through my chest.

The snap of a light shutting off defied the laws of physics by arriving in my brain
before the fact of darkness in the bedroom impinged on my mind.

"Did you take your pill?" Mom yelled, her calm voice belying the danger of the situation.


"NO," came the muffled response, sounding like it have been emitted from a face buried
in a pillow, or at least under the covers.

Mom didn't answer. I continued braiding, and stayed still. Two minutes passed. My
cock couldn't stand it and started nudging mother's cheeks again, but soon ramped
up to full fledged rubbing. Mom was rocking forward from my little shoves, her hands
grasping the edge of the counter to help steady herself. I had a hand on two of her
long braids and tugged them, pulling her head back and face up, but her eyes stayed
on mine.

I grimaced and ground my cock into her ass, tugging harder on her braids. Mom answered
with a silent laugh, her face flushed, eyes burning and exuding excitement. I responded
with a series of quick, violent shoves into her behind accompanied by almost as exuberant
tugs on her braids.

I stopped, panting for breath, realizing I was getting carried away. I glanced toward
the door and the dark bedroom beyond, desperately trying to get a grip on my mind,
to regain some semblance of control, but when I looked back at the mirror, into Mom's
eyes, I lost it.

She did something with her ass. It seemed to soften, relax and open, welcoming me.
I was enveloped, ensconced between her cheeks, even through the robe. If it was possible,
my cock hardened even more in response to her invitation. I let go of her hair and
grasped the lapels of her robe, parting them to reveal her bare tits.

I knew if I grabbed them, I would be lost, but her eyes begged me to do it. I couldn't
resist and almost cried aloud when her nipples pierced my palms and I closed my fists
tightly over them. I sunk my teeth into the crook of her neck, hunched into her ass,
and adjusted my hands until her long nipples were poking out between the circles between
my thumbs and index fingers.

I lifted my head and was amazed that Mom hadn't cried out when I saw the teeth marks
I had left in her neck. I looked in the mirror, marveling at the way her nipples tried
to escape from my clutching fists. Mom's hands released their grip on the counter
and grasped my hands, trying to pull them away. I relented and allowed her to pull
my hands off, freeing her tits which bounced down onto her chest.

Mom didn't release my hands. Instead, she guided them to the lapels of her robe, high
up, near her neck, all the while watching me in the mirror. She let go and returned
to grip the counter. I was confused. What did she want? She looked at me, expectantly,
in the mirror. Comprehension finally filtered into my thick skull. I pulled the robe
apart and around her shoulders, baring her entire front, and dropped it to the floor.
Mom was standing in front of me, stark naked, with me behind, pajamas poking firmly
into her rear.

This was insane. Dad was in bed in the next room and he hadn't taken his pill. I strained
to hear his snore but couldn't. Please, please, I thought. Go to sleep. I listened
again. Nothing.

I looked down at Mom's unblemished back, at her perfect skin, gracefully dipping into
the hollow at the base of her spine and curving out to form her wonderfully feminine
buttocks. Only the cotton of my pajamas marred the view. I stepped back to admire
her beautiful, bare ass and long, shapely legs.

Staring dumbly, I pushed my pajamas over my hard cock and down my legs, stepping out
of them as if I was sleepwalking, and kicked them aside. I reached forward to cup
those lovely buttocks in my hands, feeling their heft, squeezing slightly to extract
as much joy as I could from this forbidden skin. My hands moved easily over her cheeks,
facilitated by the light oil I had been rubbing in her braids. I loved the curve of
her flesh and the rubbery resistance it offered to my roving palms but I reveled even
more in the surrender implied by the ease with which her cheeks parted for my exploring
fingers.

Now oblivious of events in the other room, I stepped forward and pushed my cock between
my mother's cheeks. She smiled in the mirror as I began poking around, trying to find
her hole, becoming more frantic with each passing second.

Mom's lips pouted in the mirror.

"Shhhhhh."

I calmed down. Her lips moved but I couldn't hear. I leaned close, pressing my head
to the side of her's.

"Lick me."

I regained her eyes in the mirror. She nodded, smiling.

I slid my head down her back, all the way to her ass without breaking contact until
I was on my knees. I pressed on her knees and she obligingly moved her feet apart.
Her ass pushed out toward me, eager to receive my blessing. I leaned forward and pressed
my face into her ass, tongue extending, searching for the source of the musky smell
that now filled my nostrils. I found it.

I began lapping and licking between Mom's cheeks, poking inside her slit, wiggling
my tongue around and around, then dragging it out and up her perineum, shoving my
flattened tongue between her cheeks and over her musty bunghole. You should have seen
how she wriggled her ass on my face. She loved it!

I wrapped my arms around her thighs and lifted her until her ass was level with my
face. Mom was leaning almost level over the counter now, head lying on crossed arms,
tits dangling over the edge and hanging down, swaying. I plunged back in.

I licked and lapped and shoved my tongue inside her, flailing around in her pussy,
pulling out for brief trips up to her asshole and a quick lick before returning to
her center. My fingers stretch up her inner thighs until their tips reached her pussy
lips, and pulled them apart so I could get my tongue deeper inside her, shaking face
wiggling my snake until her juices flowed over my tongue and prying fingers. Her cunt
began to quiver uncontrollably, having a seizure on my tongue, her cheeks jiggling
all over my face.

As her orgasm subsided, I withdrew my tongue and dragged it along the trail from her
pussy to her ass one last time, for a final goodbye lick. But I changed my mind at
the last second, the instant the tip of my tongue found her vibrating pucker, and
I forced my tongue through her sphincter.

Well, she just exploded. Her ass quivered violently and her thighs shook in my arms,
legs tensing as her toes stretched out, trying to reach the floor. I could feel her
pussy oozing fluid again as she trembled to another intense orgasm. She cried out.


I froze. My arms loosened, allowing Mom's feet to fall to the floor and while she
finished her orgasm, toes holding her quivering legs as she leaned over the bathroom
counter. I turned my face to the door, waiting for my father to burst in.

And waited, but he didn't come. I struggled to my feet and waited some more but he
still didn't come. Then my ears detected a familiar sound. His snore. I strained for
confirmation. Was I kidding myself?

No. He was snoring, regularly but more quietly than usual.

Mom was still regaining her breath, panting on the counter. I turned and pulled the
thick bath mat from where it was draped over the edge of the tub and spread it on
the floor before grasping Mom's waist and gently pulling her away from the counter.
She complied without resistance and I guided her to the ground until she was lying
on her side, her legs curled up. I pushed on the back of her right thigh, opening
her legs and leaning her slightly forward onto her tummy. I wrapped my hand around
her hip and reached down to cup her wet pussy, pulling her up and back, inserting
my knee between hers and guiding my cock into her open, wet cunt.

I slid in, partly shoving and partly pulling her back until she was impaled on my
pole. I didn't waste any time. Keeping my hand wrapped over her hip and pussy, I grasped
a long braid with the other so she wouldn't slide away from me, and started fucking
her. Fucking my mom on her bathroom floor with my father sleeping in his bed not a
dozen feet away. Fuck, it was gloriously hot.

I rammed into her, my hips slapping against her behind. I wasn't worried about noise
now. I was confident my father wouldn't wake up, even without the pill. I wanted to
fuck my mom, hard. And I did. I made her body shake all over the mat, back and forth
with every shove, every thrust.

Despite my hard thrusts, I could feel her wonderful pussy all the way in, glorying
in long strokes to sense the minute variations in texture all along her silky wet
channel. And regardless of my lunging fucks, and the way I gripped her so she couldn't
avoid my frenetic onslaught, Mom fucked me back, gripping and releasing, clutching
my ramming shaft with her feminine muscle, like a snake working me inside a one-way
tunnel only to quickly reverse, expelling my intruder, then suck him in again.

Somehow she managed to bend her waist and cock her hip, swiveling her ass up toward
me, demanding that I shove into her even harder, her head twisting around to look
at me, her wild eyes confirming her need for more.

Her rampant desire triggered my release. I had barely started banging her harder when
my sperm spewed inside her, flooding her cunt. I fell on top of her.

"Mine, ... you're mine," I gasped, hips lurching, cock squirting my seed.

I continued to lie on Mom until the last gob of jiz was squeezed into her pussy. By
that time, she was flat on her tummy, legs spread, my cock still shoved in deep. When
my last squirting lunge was barely a twitch, Mom pushed back at me, twisting onto
her side, and pulled away.

She stood, faced the sink and ran the water. I lay on my back and watched as Mom soaked
a facecloth and cleaned her pussy, then stepped over to grab a towel to dry herself.
She stooped down and kissed me, fingers trailing over my face, then stood and walked
into the bedroom. I heard her slip under the covers and the room was silent except
for Dad's gentle snore. I got up, pulled my pajamas on, turned out the bathroom light,
and picked my way through the darkness to my room.

The next day was Mother's Day.

I slept in. Mom and Dad were already downstairs and were just finishing breakfast
when I stumbled into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Mom was a picture
of wholesome health but the girlish braids were unable to hide her underlying sexual
maturity. She wore a khaki hiking outfit with a loose-fitting shirt made of that quick-dry
material and a matching pair of shorts. The the shorts fit snugly around her hips
and bottom and though the legs were a little loose they were quite short, resting
high atop legs that were bare down to a pair of hiking boots with socks peeking just
an inch above.

"It's about time you got up lazybones," Mom greeted me cheerily. "I've been waiting
for you for an hour to take me for a picnic."

"Picnic?"

"Yes. It's Mother's day and I want you to take me up to Old Baldy, to our secret family
viewpoint."

Mom was referring to the outcropping below the viewpoint on our local mountain. It
was about an hour's hike to the viewpoint and there was a moss-covered rock below
it that gave almost as good a view but was much better for a picnic because hardly
anyone bothered to scramble down the rocky trail to it. The thought of spending hours
alone with Mom on a private, mossy rock appealed to every bone in my body, and one
in particular.

"Hurry up, now," Mom urged. "Get something to eat while I finish making our lunch."


Obediently, I rushed to pour myself some cereal.

"Where's Dad?" I asked.

"Having his coffee outside. Quickly now."

I finished my breakfast in record time and Mom rushed me upstairs to get dressed.
I did that in a hurry too and ran down the stairs to find Mom waiting by the door,
a couple of small backpacks stuffed and ready to go. I could hardly wait to get her
up that mountain.

"Don't forget your Dad," Mom said, pointing to the backyard.

"Right." I rushed through the kitchen to say goodbye to Dad, leaning through the backdoor
with one hand pressed against the inside wall, "Dad."

Dad's head spun around and he got up from his chair, coffee cup in hand. I was about
to say goodbye when his attire stopped me.

"Ready?" Dad asked. He was wearing the same hiking outfit Mom had on.

I nodded, speechless.

"About time," Dad said, brushing past me through the door. "Emily, you ready?" he
called out.

"Waiting for you," Mom shouted back.

Fuck!

So off we went. Dad drove and an hour later we arrived at the trailhead. He and I
carried the packs. The only good part was that he led the way and I followed Mom,
eyes on her sexy behind all the way. We passed a few people on the way, going up and
down, and two couples at the lookout. We hung around looking at the view until the
others left, which took about fifteen minutes. After Dad was sure they were gone and
nobody else was coming, we carefully picked our way down around the bluff. Our preferred
site was empty. We had it all to ourselves.

Mom pulled a large blanket from one of the packs and spread it over the moss. Our
lunch was emptied from the other pack and we sat down to enjoy the view while we ate.
It was a beautiful sunny day. Dad finished eating first and leaned back on his elbow
to relax. Mom and I were still sitting, she with her legs crossed, me with my elbows
resting on my knees. After a few minutes, Dad arranged one of the packs under his
head and lay on his back. Mom and I continued to take in the view, finishing our lunch
in silence.

Mom finished her sandwich and tipped her water bottle up to take a long drink. I took
the opportunity to watch the way her shirt stretched over her small breasts. I was
pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra. Mom tipped the bottle up too high and water
spilled outside her mouth, running down her neck. She jerked the bottle down and pulled
it away from her mouth, lifting one arm to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.
I continued admiring her front and she smiled at me. I wasn't worried about Dad. His
head was out of sight behind Mom's back but I was pretty sure his eyes were closed.
Disappointment welled up inside me again as I thought about how wonderful this would
have been with just the two of us.

Mom put her bottle down and started brushing crumbs from her legs. Her action was
quite mechanical but that changed when she looked up to see me watching her closely.
Then, she stretched one leg out, leaving the other with its foot curled underneath
the thigh of the outstretched leg. Now, more slowly, she continued to brush away crumbs,
though I couldn't see any. Brush ... brush ... brush. Her movements became more languid,
more sensual, her fingertips removing unseen crumbs from the very tops of her thighs,
seemingly to be found all on the inside. Mom batted her eyelids.

"Do you have any water left?"

I replied that I did, looking down at the water bottle she had set down on the blanket,
still half full. Nevertheless, I retrieved my bottle and held it out to her, but she
ignored it, continuing to brush away phantom crumbs. I unscrewed the lid and offered
the bottle again but Mom still ignored it. Changing my position to lean close to her,
I held my bottle to Mom's lips.

She drank. A small sip. I held the bottle an inch away for a few seconds, then offered
it to her again. Mom took another sip but this time she spilled some from her mouth,
letting it run down her chin and onto her thighs below. I was surprised because I
had barely tipped the bottle and she could have easily handled what spilled into her
mouth.

Mom looked at the water on her thighs, then at me. Carefully, I secured the cap on
my water bottle and set it down in the moss behind me. Turning back to Mom, I put
out one hand to lean on and stretched the other over her lap, looked into her eyes,
and dropped it onto her wet thighs. The way Mom's eyes smoldered, she could have looked
down and dried her legs with a single glance. Despite the water, her thighs were hot
from the sun.

I slid my hand over Mom's thighs, spreading the warm water around. It was soon gone.
I held Mom's gaze the whole time my hand rubbed her inner thighs. Her only reaction
was to open her legs to allow me all the room I needed to do my job. My fingers slowly
inched higher as they rubbed and I was soon stretching my fingertips under the leg
of Mom's shorts. Still, she held my eyes.

I curled my fingers back and moved my hand closer, then stretched my fingers out,
but not under the leg of her shorts. Instead, I brushed my knuckles against the outside,
in the puffy center where her pouting pussy pushed up from the inside. Mom's mouth
opened in surprise and a small gasp escaped past her lips. I teased her for several
minutes, finding her groove and brushing my knuckles up and down inside it, then turning
my hand around and rubbing my finger up and down and then sideways back and forth.


I smiled. How glorious to feel the sun on my back and my mother's pussy in my hand.
I forgave her for allowing my father to join us on our day. What a special mother,
to sit with her husband lying behind her with legs spread wide open, offering her
pussy to her son. I nodded my head, flashing my eyes over her shoulder. She looked
back, then returned her eyes to mine, nodding.

I raised my hand, watching disappointment spread over Mom's face as her pussy was
left alone. But the disappointment was replaced with anticipation when my fingers
freed a couple of buttons from her shirt and slipped inside to slither over her waiting
tit, briefly fondling her already extended nipple, twisting around to slip underneath,
lifting the weight of her breast as my thumb scraped down to flick her hard nipple,
the silent cry on her lips an added reward.

We were both startled by the sudden appearance of my father's hand on Mom's shoulder
pulling her back, down toward him. Awkwardly, Mom complied and was soon lying on her
back next to Dad, his arm curled under her neck so his hand could hold hers, her neck
fitting into the crook of his elbow. I could see Dad's face now, eyes still closed,
chest heaving a sigh of satisfaction.

I watched my parents for several minutes. Mother looked worried, lying stiffly in
Dad's arm, her open shirt a testimony that she might have been doing something more
than taking in the view. Father, for his part, looked for all intents and purposes
to be asleep. He hadn't changed his position or expression after that first satisfied
exhalation.

Mom's legs were now both stretched out. I moved my hand toward her open thighs. The
movement caught her attention and her look so clearly warned me away I could almost
see her head shake. Mom glared as my hand slipped between her thighs and her legs
closed to inhibit its advance but she wasn't quick enough. Though my hand was now
trapped my fingers were pressed against her warm spongy pussy. I couldn't move my
hand but I could press my fingers and I did just that, pulsing them against her puffy
lips, again, and again, and again.

Mom glared at me as she lay in Dad's arm, my hand working between her legs. I could
understand her reaction. If he opened his eyes, we were done. I was my own behavior
that was amiss. Nevertheless, I continued and in a matter of minutes Mom's glare softened
and was replaced by a glazed look. In that moment her legs relaxed, loosening their
hold on my manipulating fingers. Immediately, I began to rub her pussy in longer strokes,
though still soft and gentle. Her legs opened wider.

I aligned my fingers with her damp crevice and wiggled my fingertips, turning a faint
line into shallow trench. I shifted closer so I was lying beside Mom, my hand reaching
under the bottom of her partly raised thigh to keep my pliant fingers pressed into
the ever deepening split dividing her mound. Confident in the knowledge of her acceptance,
I slipped my hand up to her waist and quickly unsnapped her shorts with a quick twist
of my fingers, my retreating fingertips blazing a trail parting the thin material
of her quick-dry shorts. Now only her panties separated me from her damp pussy hair.
When I reached the bottom of her mound, I pushed my fingers under, inside her legs,
between her panties and shorts. So hot and wet.

Dad's arm straightened and flopped to the side, almost hitting me in the head. He
was dozing off. A moment later, I grabbed Mom, a hand on each hip, and tugged her
down on the blanket and off Dad's arm. I waited for Dad to settle into his new position.
Mom didn't resist when I turned her hips toward Dad, pushing her onto her side with
her bottom facing me. She was lying awkwardly on one hip but twisted with her back
still flat on the ground.

My hand slipped down from her hip, sliding over her bottom, cupping and caressing
her buttocks. Though a forbidden touch, it was platonic compared to the teasing scrapes
across the front of her shorts moments earlier. Mom relaxed as Dad's breathing deepened
and my hand maintained its relatively innocent exploration of her bottom. Perhaps
due to my more muted appreciation, or because of her awkward position, Mom turned
fully onto her side. I pushed on her right cheek, twisting her slightly forward, then
slipped my hand between her legs, snug against the bottom of her pussy and pressed
my thumb between her cheeks.

I started gently but regularly pressing and squeezing. Mom swung her hand behind her
in a half-hearted attempt to push mine away, to no avail. After several swings, she
let her hand fall along the outside of her thigh where it stayed, emphasizing the
curve of her hip. After a few minutes of my squelching action, I used my free hand
to tug Mom's shorts down until, with a quick motion, I pulled my hand back and slid
it back into place, but this time between her shorts and her bare ass and pussy.

"Ohhhhhhh," Mom moaned aloud, then turned her face into the blanket. Her only protest
was to push her ass toward me, as if pleading for more.

So be it. I slipped two fingers into her soaking cunt, producing a muffled, "Unnnngghhhhhhh."


Splooook, sploook, sploooook. I pushed my fingers in and out, varying my timing and
speed, loving the way her ass would reach back when my return was delayed and the
way her channel clamped down, sucking me inside, trying to keep me there, fighting
my exit and providing a veritable hero's welcome when my fingers returned.

I don't know why she seemed surprised and struggled when she felt my cock entering
her slippery hole. She must have known I couldn't settle for just my finger, that
I would fuck her despite the danger and the total absence of any defense should my
father awaken. But she did fight my entry and rather than put me off it excited me
to no end. The way her butt twisted and shook, first trying to evade me and then to
shake me off, was an incredible turn on.

What an exciting fuck! I grasped her longer braids, pressing into her back to hold
her still but I couldn't stop her twisting hips. Though her upper torso was still,
her butt bucked like a little bronco, lifting off the blanket, emphasizing its shape
relative to her narrow waist. Yeah, I thought, fuck that. Fuck that! She wound me
up much quicker than I wanted. I had envisioned a long, slow, careful fuck that wouldn't
disturb Dad but before I knew it I was lunging into her backside and cumming, blasting
my spunk inside her, my hard bare cock spewing into her unprotected cunt.

I collapsed on her back and then fell over onto my back. Recapturing my breath, I
reached down to pull my shorts up, opening my eyes to the bright afternoon sun, raising
my hand to block its glare. There, high above, on the bluff overlooking ours, two
people were looking down. Quickly, I looked over at Mom lying on her chest, hips raised
to allow her hands underneath to refasten her shorts. I looked back, seeing more clearly
now, a woman and a younger man, smiling down at us.

I sat up and was surprised to see that Dad was no longer lying on his back but had
turned onto his side, facing away from us. I hadn't been aware of his movement. Mom
twisted around and sat up too.

"We should go," I said.

"Yes," she answered, turning to shake Dad's shoulder. He awoke with a start and we
were soon packed up and on our way.

On the trail back, Dad led the way and seemed to be in a hurry. We had only gone about
a third of the way back before we caught up to three people, a family like ours. Dad
hiked quickly past them but Mom recognized the woman and stopped to say hi. Evidently,
they were casual acquaintances who exchanged pleasantries at the local gym.

I recognized her as the woman who had been looking down at us from the bluff and the
young man as her companion. He was watching me, a smug smirk on his face. It was disconcerting,
to say the least. The woman glanced at me several times while she and Mom talked.
Noticing, Mom introduced me as her son. The woman greeted me with a smile quite unlike
that of her son's. We left after that. Mom turned away first and the woman regarded
me with a very frank appraisal. As I hurried to catch up to Mom, walking briskly in
a effort to catch up to Dad who hadn't stopped, I thought about the woman and how
fine her body was despite her plain face. There was something about her that said,
'Take the time, you won't regret it.'

I couldn't stop thinking about that woman all the way home -- except for the parts
where Mom's shorts emptied my head of any other thoughts. She and Mom knew each other,
and she and her son had seen us. What if she said something to people that knew Mom?
Mom had no idea we had been observed. Shouldn't I tell her? I was quiet on the ride
home, and so were Mom and Dad.

It was still Mother's day or, at least, Mother's night.

We had a brief pit stop at home for everyone to get showered and changed and then
we were off to Mom's favorite restaurant for dinner. Mom wore a conservative frilly
white blouse with black slacks, mentioning that her legs were too scratched up from
the hike to wear a dress. The blouse was made of a delicate material and Mom wore
a camisole underneath for extra protection but I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra;
there was too much intriguing motion for that to be the case. Even though our afternoon
bout had only been over for an hour or so, it was hard to sit next to Mom without
admiring her or trying to sneak the odd clandestine touch. But I had to because my
father was uncharacteristically alert and attentive.

Dinner was dragged out by dessert and coffee despite the fact that neither I nor Dad
wanted anything. When we finally arrived home, I was tired from the strain of the
evening but both Mom and Dad were showing no sign of wear or tear. Of course, that
was understandable for Dad. I surmised that Mother's day must be a special evening
for my parents and resigned myself to the fact that there would be no further extracurricular
activities for me that day. I watched part of a movie with them and said goodnight.
I would have to find a way to discuss the woman we'd met hiking the next day before
I went to school so Mom was pre-warned should they encounter each other, or someone
they both knew.

I had the wildest dreams that night. That woman was on me, fulfilling the implied
promise of rapturous sex. She had started by somehow sneaking under my covers at the
foot of my bed, licking my soles, dragging the tip of her stiffened tongue along the
sensitive underside of my arches, sucking my toes into her mouth one at a time before
trailing kisses and nibbles up my legs. Her tongue flicked between my thighs, digging
deep to get under my balls. I tried to grab her head to pull it up so I could shove
my cock down her throat but her incredibly strong hands gripped my wrists, holding
them by my sides.

She teased me mercilessly, slathering my balls with her tongue, then snaking it up
my shaft. It was so long, in this dream world, that it curled right around my lovestick
and it seemed to take ages for her to reach the top despite steady progress -- I was
far longer in my mind that reality would support. She was finally there, licking my
head, drooling copious quantities of saliva before enveloping my cock with her cavernous
mouth, sliding all the way down until her lips smashed into my curlies, shaking her
head in a futile attempt to force an early ejaculation.

I still couldn't free my hands to get hold of her head. I desperately wanted hold
her still, to take control, to shove my cock deep into her face, but she was too strong.
How? She was no bigger than my mother. And how was it that I could see her face so
clearly, my cock shoved down her throat, when I was lying on my back and she was still
under the covers? Ahhh, in a dream, anything can happen.

How fantastic her lips felt dragging up my shaft, how exquisite her tongue slipping
along the underside of my cock, how lovely the squeeze of her mouth around my tip
and the tickling squish of new saliva before she forced herself down until I banged
on the door of her throat again. God, again and again. How could a woman suck a cock
so well, a married, family woman? I couldn't help it. I was going to cum. It was too
late to warn her, it was already gushing into my tube.

PAIN. Fuck! She was squeezing my balls. Shit. Owwww. Why did she do that?

Her mouth was off me, she was clambering up under the covers, her knees shifting in
jerks along my sides.

"Not yet," she cried. "It's still MOTHER's day!"

What? I started to protest, to complain about not being able to cum, to explain that
I was younger than her husband and could still service her well, but my mouth was
suddenly covered by pussy. Excited and pungent cunt mashed against my face, filling
my nose with the scent of overheated womanhood. Now it was my head that was held in
a vice-like grip.

"Lick me," she gasped, her thighs squeezing my chest as she was riding a pony bareback,
knees digging into the mattress to help her hips lever her cunt against my face. "Lick
me," she repeated. "Eat me!"

I had no choice. I thrust my tongue out, making it as stiff as possible, hoping it
would titillate her ravaging pussy sufficiently to end this cuntal attack soon. She
was moving frantically now, banging my face, forcing me deep into the pillow, her
thighs spreading wide to follow me down. I gasped for breath, sucking air through
my nose.

"Yes ... yesss ... yessss!" she yelled.

This was no dream. This was real. And this was no dream woman, it wasn't even another
mother. This was my mother. My Mom ... raping my face.

I was suddenly bathed in a gush of pussy fluid. Soaking, rubbery lips slid over my
nose and back across my lips, pushing onto my chin, flooding my neck. Mom was gasping
and moaning, her hips bucking out of control, slowing slowly, broken by small jerks
and shudders, until finally, she was still.

I lifted my arms and grabbed her by the waist, lifting her, shifting her down, aided
by her straightening legs, until she was lying on top of me, heaving chest pushing
hard, steel-tipped nipples into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, clutching
her sweaty body to mine, running my fingers through her wavy hair. The braids were
gone. I hugged her until her breath returned to normal, gently stroking her hair,
her back, kissing the top of her head, slipping my hand down to slide over the curve
of her ass.

Only when her breathing was completely normal did she speak to me.

"Put your cock in me," she whispered, lifting her hips so I could rise up and find
her. "It's still Mother's day and I want you to fuck me, like this, the way I want
it."

What could I do? Ever the dutiful son, I found her wet, sloshy hole and shoved my
cock inside, working hard. When I tired of lifting her weight, she took over, sitting
up, lifting herself almost off and dropping down with a thud and an extra push, sometimes
wrenching her clutching pussy around on my root, almost painfully.

"Do you like that?" she husked. "A little rough?" she shoved herself down and churned
hard. When I tried to pull her down to me, she grabbed my hair and forced my head
down, gritting her teeth, fucking hard. "Huh?" she cried. "This will teach you for
fucking me right beside your father."

She rode me roughly until I was exhausted and just lying there. It was an intense
cum. I couldn't move but wouldn't have anyway. I loved the feel of her used body draping
over mine, her thighs spread over my hips, her pussy still covering my cock even though
it had slipped out of her minutes ago. She reached behind herself to grasp my hands
from where they were clasped around her waist, resting in the small of her back. Pulling
them apart, she pushed them down and up the rise of each buttock, guiding my fingers
into the crevasse separating her cheeks.

Mom pushed the longest finger of my right hand in, pressing until its tip brushed
over her little brown asterisk, the crinkly entrance to her dark hole. Visions of
the wildly exciting ride on her ass that afternoon burst into my head. What was she
hinting at? Was she really suggesting what I thought? Her hand rubbed my fingers back
and forth across her rosebud, hard enough that it dug in a little.

"Your Dad asked me to do something special for you on Father's day," she whispered.


WHAT? My mind swirled like a tornado, making my head dizzy. What?

I blacked out.

