URL: http://web.archive.org/web/20130807074833/http://www.literotica.com/s/hey-mom-look
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: Hey Mom, Look
Tags: Hey Mom, Look, alwayswantedto, mother son incest, mother son sex, tease, teasing, reluctant incest, mother sex, son sex, reluctant sex, reluctant, mother/son

Summary: Son and Dad are not the same.

All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 or older.

* * * * * * *

I pulled my flannel pajama bottoms up until they were snug against my balls which
were already tightening underneath my stiffening dick.

Stop thinking about her, I commanded myself.

But it was no use. My disobedient member, gorged in blood, surged upward, creating
a mini circus tent that I had to cover with a magazine as I walked down the hall.
Neither Mom nor Dad looked up as I descended the stairs. Dad was reading the Economist
but spared the occasional glance for the documentary playing on TV. Mom was reading
a magazine that rested on her left leg which was crossed over the right, her nyloned
foot tapping slowly to a tune that heard only in her head.

Quietly, so as not to disturb my parents, I sat on the free end of the couch, positioned
my back to the arm, and planted both bare feet on the cushion so I could peer over
my own magazine to watch my mother. She was toying with a lock of her dark, full-bodied
hair, a habit she had practiced for as long as I could remember whenever she was concentrating.
My gaze dropped from her pretty face and came to rest on her prominent chest, heaving
slightly against the flowery blouse in time with her tapping foot, her arm thankfully
pulled back so I had a clear view of her breasts.

Was she angry with me again?

* * * * * * *

Mom had been angry with me a lot over the past few weeks, and with good reason. I
had grown a lot during the last year, not taller but I had filled out quite a bit,
though I still wasn't as big as my father. That was why I had been so shocked when
I'd seen how small his dick was. Dad had invited me to join him and his friends at
a local pub. He was still in the john when I came in to take a leak, standing at the
urinal next to his. He was just finishing and I saw his thing. I hadn't seen it since
I was a kid when he showed me how to take a nature pee. It had seemed huge to me then.
My shock was followed by a surge of pride in myself and then a feeling of compassion.
I fumbled about, not wanting to show Dad up by pulling out my own stick.

"Don't be shy," Dad laughed. "I'm sure you have nothing to be ashamed of."

He slapped me on the back as he turned toward the sinks. I was still fumbling when
he dried his hands and went out the door, laughing.

If I'd just forgotten about it, everything would have been fine. But I couldn't. The
memory of Dad laughing kept resurfacing in my head. It bugged me. I should have shown
him, I thought. That would have shut him up. Let him see what a real piece of meat
looked like, at least, compared to his. How he had kept a looker like my mom with
such a ridiculous little pecker was beyond me.

And that's how it started. I began looking at Mom, as a woman rather than my mother.
She really was quite good looking with a nice body for her age. Dad was a handsome
man, a nice guy, and well educated, but surely she must have wanted more in the downstairs
department? Maybe she didn't find out until after they were married and it was too
late. Did they not do it before they got hitched?

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to show her mine. Each time, I reprimanded
myself.

How ludicrous. Did I think I was living in the theater of the absurd?

Did I seriously think her reaction would be anything other than outrage? Get a grip.


But each time, my admonition was less severe until a gentle chiding was the order
of the day.

I got hard every time I imagined myself displaying my wares to Mom. I created many
scenarios n my mind, some believable, lots more ridiculously unreal. Some were accidental,
others deliberate. I started with the inadvertent episodes but gravitated to the purposeful
exposures, quickly finding a need to relieve myself by jacking off into the toilet,
eyes closed so I could imagine the reluctant pleasure that Mom inevitably derived
from looking at a real, manly cock.

I never imagined Mom actually touching it because, to tell the truth, there wasn't
time. I always came when her face changed from shock to desire and she reached out
to take hold of it.

So that should have been the end of it, right? Eventually, I should have tired of
maternal fantasies and moved on to fresh ideas to feed my masturbatory fantasies.


Nope, not this kid. I wasn't that smart. Dad's brains hadn't been passed on to me,
at least, not yet. I allowed my hallucinations to meet reality. I began wandering
around the house in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt as soon as I got home from school
to draw Mom's attention to my better-endowed groin. While trying to feign intense
interest in whatever I was watching on TV or reading, I was nevertheless extremely
sensitive to any tiny indication that Mom might actually be taking notice.

I convinced myself that she was. I was certain from the way she avoided looking down
there that she was. And then there was the time she stopped what she was saying just
as she turned to look my way, and the way she blushed on two other occasions in similar
circumstances. Mom was aware of my cock!

* * * * * * *

One night, I sat at the end of the couch wearing a loose-fitting pair of shorts that
were arranged so Mom couldn't help but see my guy peeking out the leg if she looked
my way. But she didn't. Refusing to be deterred, I held out my magazine and called
Mom's attention to a picture, holding it low so her eyes would be pulled down along
a line of sight that led straight to the exposed head of my dick.

She couldn't hide it. Her attention definitely strayed. She had looked!

Even better, after jerking her eyes back to the magazine, she became flustered, her
voice faltering for a moment while her eyes tried to focus on the picture I was marking
with my finger. But it was the second peek that really did it. Later, I tried to show
her another picture but Mom refused to look, waving me off.

"I'm trying to read," she said, testily.

By then, I needed to keep the magazine up anyway, to hide my huge boner. A few minutes
after that, I slunk upstairs and yanked my cock mercilessly until it exploded all
over the toilet, leaving myself a big cleaning job.

* * * * * * *

Mom was mad the next morning at breakfast. I dallied over breakfast and turned my
chair at a 45 degree angle to face the center of the kitchen, leaning back with my
legs open so my pajamas were stretched tight over my genitals. Though she tried not
to, Mom looked a couple of times, right after Dad flipped the newspaper to a fresh
page and pulled it close to his face to read more easily. She was quick, but couldn't
escape my careful observation, and, though that seemed to make her angry, she indulged
in several more glances.

I followed Mom downstairs a few minutes after she left to do the laundry. She had
just started a load in the washer and was emptying the dryer when I arrived. I admired
the way her bottom filled the thin material of the house dress, stretching it tight
enough to show the lines of her panties. She stood and faced me, a hand on her hip.


"What do you want?" her stern voice, despite everything, surprising me.

"I was just wondering if you could wash my pajamas," I answered coolly, looking down
to indicate that something had spilled on them.

Mom followed my eyes down, to the orange juice that slicked the pajamas over my swollen
cock. She looked longer than was necessary and that excited me. I could see she knew
she had looked too long and that I was aware of it. She bent down to load the dryer
with freshly washed clothes and my eyes returned to her ass.

"Bring them down and put them in that pile," Mom barked, pointing at a pile of colored
clothes on the floor in front of the washer.

That's when I did the unthinkable. I dropped my pajamas and stepped out of them, then
tossed them onto the indicated pile. As soon as the pajamas landed, time seemed to
move very slowly.

I was standing in my t-shirt, bare, half-stiff cock dangling in the air, as Mom stopped
loading the dryer and turned her head to look at the pile, staring while she struggled
to comprehend the presence of my pajama bottoms. Slowly, her eyes and head turned
up, following my now bare legs until she was looking straight at my dangling cock,
as if she needed to confirm what her brain was telling her, that I had actually taken
my pajamas off. My cock tingled and straightened when I saw her eyes widen.

Then, the world suddenly exploded back into real time. The washer stopped filling
and kicked into its first wash cycle as Mom jerked to her feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

"You said to put them in that pile," I replied in an incredibly calm voice, given
the circumstances and the fact that I felt anything but serene.

"I didn't mean now," Mom raised her voice.

I looked blankly at her as if I didn't understand what the fuss was all about. A look
crossed her face as if she had just made a decision.

"Alright, this has got to stop," she said, confirming my suspicion. "Do you want me
to call your father down here?"

I shrugged, calling her bluff.

"Put your pajamas back on or I'll call him right now."

Mom jabbed her hand at the floor to emphasize her point but the back of her hand inadvertently
scraped the side of my now hard cock. She looked down in shock, then yanked her hand
away. She started to go around me but I stepped back to block the doorway.

"But they're dirty," I said.

"Then put something clean on."

I looked at the basket of clean laundry and managed to convey that this was a task
beyond my capabilties. Exasperated, Mom dug through the basket and found another pair
of my pajamas which she held out to me. I took them and stooped to slip my feet through
each leg, then slowly straightened, pulling the pajamas up with me. I stopped when
the waistband scraped over my balls and pressed against the bottom of my cock, kicking
it into a series of slowly dampening bounces.

Mom was looked directly at it and watched each diminishedbounce.

"I don't mind if you look at it, Mom," I spoke softly. "I know it's nicer than Dad's."


Mom nodded vacantly, as if answering something in her mind rather than what I had
said. Then she looked at me.

"What are you trying to do Brent? What are you up to?"

"I just want you to look, that's all."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just do," I said.

Mom nodded as if she understood.

"Put it away now and let me by," she said.

"I will if you put it away," I countered, astounded by my precocious response.

Mom sighed, then grabbed my pajamas and pulled them up, the waistband snapping from
under my balls to squeeze my tool against my stomach. She hadn't let her hands contact
my skin. Mom stepped back and waited for me to get out of the way. I looked down.
The whole head of my cock was sticking out of my pajamas.

"Is that the best you can do?" I asked.

Mom looked down.

"Yes," she replied in a quiet voice.

"OK," I said, and stepped aside to let her by.

* * * * * * *

After that, I seemed to have tacit permission to display myself when Dad wasn't around,
at least, not in the same room. Mom changed her tactic from pretending not to see
to ignoring me as best she could. When she did look, she acted as if it was no big
deal and I should hurry up and get over my juvenile fetish.

But I was immune to any cure. The following Saturday at breakfast, after a week of
clandestine exposures, I waited until Dad left the kitchen. As soon as I heard him
going up the stairs, I pushed my pajamas down to free my hard cock and smiled at Mom,
hardly able to wait for her to see. She finally looked, though I was sure she knew
the second I had let loose.

"For crying out loud, Brent. When are you going to get over this?"

"Over what," I laughed, rotating my hips on the chair to make my hardon sway around.


Mom laughed back, surprising me. She actually laughed.

"That," she cried, pointing at my wobbling pole.

"Never," I answered. "I always want you to be able to see a big one."

Mom's face went red.

"You'd better put that away before your father comes down."

"Why?" I asked. "I don't care if he sees it," I bluffed, though I knew my father could
wipe the floor with me.

"Just put it away."

I shook my head.

"I'm not doing it for you," Mom insisted, referring to the laundry room episode.

"Ill put it away if you show me your legs," I bargained.

"Show you my legs? You can see my legs." Mom grabbed the knee-length skirt of her
dress and ruffled it over her thighs.

"I mean higher up." My voice was suddenly hoarse.

"Higher up?"

"Yeah," I croaked. "Higher. Lift it above your knees."

Mom stared at me. Until now, this had been all about me. It was like that time in
the laundry room when I had first tossed my pajamas to the floor and Mom had turned
her head to look. We were in the midst of another watershed moment.

Mom remained still, one hand holding a handful of her dress. I stared at her, matching
her frozen stance, and my cock wobbled to a standstill. Mom's eyes dropped from my
face to my cock but otherwise she remained frozen. Then, her hand moved. Not the one
holding the dress. The other one. It fell to her side and slowly started gathering
material.

Please don't come down now, I tried to force a mental command upstairs into my father's
brain. Don't ruin this for me.

Mom's hand, filled with bunched skirt, moved upward, slowly revealing legs not yet
tanned by the spring sun. It stopped where her thighs started to thicken and, even
at this distance, I imagined I could see tiny blondish hairs swaying over the tender
skin there.

"Higher," I croaked, my voice climbing an octave and ending in a squeak.

Incredibly, Mom's dress resumed its rise. An inch higher. I grasped my tool with my
right hand. Another inch. I stroked myself, eyes glued on Mom's bare thighs, the dress
stretched across them just below where her panties must be.

"All the way," I gasped, my hand slowly sliding up and down my cock while Mom's eyes
followed.

Mom's panties burst into view, puffed up over a mound with a slack line in the middle
where the panties rounded and disappeared between her legs. Her pussy!

My hand moved faster and Mom's head bobbed up and down, following it. Christ, I was
going to cum already!

I struggled to my feet, still pulling my wire, and stumbled toward Mom, trying to
get past her to the sink but I didn't make it. A rope of cum burst from my wagging
boner and shot onto Mom's thighs before her dress dropped. Another wad of cum spurted
from my roaring cock but this one landed on the apron covering the front of Mom's
dress. I bent my knees and threw my free arm around Mom's waist, holding on as I crouched
before her, jacking off into her apron, which Mom lifted to wrap around my squirting,
throbbing member. I groaned until the last gob shuddered out.

"Oh god. Mom. I'm sorry." I gasped. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK. It's over." Mom's hands moved the apron, cleaning me.

"You're so beautiful. I couldn't help it," I cried.

"Shhhhh. It's okay." The apron slid back and forth, enclosed in Mom's gentle hands.


Steps! I heard steps on the stairs. Mom jerked back and crouched, the apron held before
her, full of my cum. She whirled around and ran to the basement stairs, then disappeared
through the open doorway. I spun around the other way, yanking my pajamas up and just
managed to sit and twist my chair toward the table to hide my still stiff cock before
Dad cruised into the kitchen.

"Still eating breakfast?" he asked.

I nodded and looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

"Still not dressed?"

I shook my head and was glad he wasn't looking, pouring himself a mug of coffee instead.


"It's a crime to waste a day like this," he said.

Mom came up from the basement carrying a basket of laundry. I could hear the washer
filling downstairs.

"Are you going to take your coffee outside?" she asked Dad, walking behind him but
turning to face him with the basket in front of her, standing between him and me.


Dad turned around to face Mom, leaned against the counter, and raised his mug to take
a sip of coffee.

"Yup. Going to join me?"

"Sure. I'll just take this upstairs," Mom nodded her head at the basket.

Mom's dress was hitched up a bit in the back, dragged above her knees by the basket.
A white stream of my cum trickled down the inside of her right thigh. My eyes widened
in horror as Mom turned away from Dad and walked past me out of the kitchen, carrying
the laundry upstairs. Dad watched Mom go, sipping his coffee. I couldn't see how he
could miss the white string clinging to the inside of her right knee because it was
all I had seen as I watched her leave.

* * * * * * *

It was early on Saturday night yet here I was, in my pajamas again, sitting on the
opposite end of the couch from Mom. Dad was stretched out on his back on the other
couch, perpendicular to ours, reading and occasionally glancing at the TV.

I had been unable to get Mom alone all day so I didn't know if she was angry about
what had happened in the morning. She was tapping her foot in a determined fashion
but I couldn't tell if it was an angry rhythm or not.

As I watched, it slowed and moved in a less purposeful but more seductive and fascinating
manner. Suddenly, Mom pulled up her right leg and dropped her left foot to the floor
for leverage. The magazine she was reading slid into the middle of her lap and kept
the loose skirt from riding up her legs as her legs parted, demurely protecting her
private parts from exposure. Mom pushed the magazine higher on her now upright right
knee and leaned toward me.

"Look at this, Brent," she said, pointing at a picture.

I craned my neck to look but couldn't really see.

"Look closer," Mom said.

I pulled my feet close to cross my legs and lifting my weight to shift my butt closer
to Mom, so close that I had to raise my knees above Mom's left leg. I looked down
at the magazine to where she was pointing.

"See," she said.

I couldn't figure out what it was she was trying to show me. She was now pointing
to some text on the far page rather than the picture she had originally indicated.


"What?" I asked quietly, so as not to disturb my dad.

"This," Mom's voice lowered in concert with mine.

Her hand, the one closest to me that wasn't holding the magazine, dropped to back
where it had been resting on her thigh but then moved, dragging Mom's skirt with it.
All my senses were suddenly on full alert.

"Oh," I said, leaning further and trying to look under the magazine that covered most
of the leg Mom had just bared.

Mom changed hands. Now it was the left pulling her skirt higher. Everything that wasn't
already stirring under my pajamas began to move. This was so incredibly sexy yet I
could barely see anything more than I could a moment ago. The magazine, spread open
over Mom's lap, still covered her bare and parted thighs.

The sides of the skirt were very high indeed, almost up to Mom's crotch. I could see
all of the outside of her left thigh, but nothing between her legs. Still, my cock
now throbbed against my pajamas.

"Did you look at this part?" Mom asked, lifting the top of the magazine up and toward
me.

Feigning intense interest, I leaned to the right so I could look under the magazine
at Mom's parted thighs. Her stockings ended just where her legs thickened, marked
by a wide band of layered nylon. Soft, tender, creamy thigh bulged out of each legging
in an unblemished expanse until it crashed into lacy, black panties that covered but
hinted at the treasure underneath sufficiently for me to discern the structure of
her pubes.

"What do you think of that?" Mom asked, as if she was discussing an ordinary article.


I was at a loss for words.

"Hmmmm?" Mom prodded.

"Can I look at yours?" I asked.

"Help yourself," Mom replied.

I reached under my magazine which Mom was holding in front of her and grabbed Mom's,
twisting it around to face me. I pulled it toward me so I could see it under mine,
until it slid off Mom's skirt, and fell onto her crossed calves. I let it go, allowing
it to rest on her legs and mine, using my now free hands to hook Mom's hem with my
thumbs and push her skirt higher on her thighs. The looseness of her skirt allowed
me to push the middle of it almost up to her panties without dragging the sides back
on the outside her legs, helped by Mom's hand resting firmly on her left thigh, the
one closest to Dad.

I could now look directly down on Mom's open thighs, her lacy panties in clear view,
and appear to be reading. I immediately noticed that the wider angle of Mom's legs
caused the gash in the front of her panties to appear more pronounced.

I ventured forth with one hand, exploring the inner thigh of Mom's left leg, then
shifting to enjoy the right when she didn't object. Unable to contain myself, not
sufficiently cool to take it slow, I pushed my hand toward her panties but hers appeared
out of nowhere to block me. Mom shook her head.

For a while, I contented myself stroking Mom's thighs before I realized that I had
something she was interested in too. Under the cover of the magazine, I pulled the
waistband of my pajamas over my cock and tucked it under my balls. Leaning forward,
I pushed my cock down onto the nylon covering Mom's calves.

Mom quickly looked around the magazine at the bare cock lying across her legs, jerked
a fast look at Dad, then returned her gaze. I held my magazine so only she and I could
see what I was doing. I moved my hips, sawing my cock across her nylons. Mom shook
her head.

'Yes,' I mouthed, nodding. I kept moving my hips.

Mom frowned, glancing back at Dad. She put her hand down to stop me, not realizing
until too late what she had done. She was holding my cock. This time, it wasn't covered
by an apron. We were skin to skin. Her delicate fingers felt wonderful and then fantastic
as they curled around my shaft. I pushed, fucking the hole she had created in her
hand. Mom's mouth dropped open, aghast, but she didn't pull her hand away.

I slid my hand up Mom's leg again and, this time, she didn't stop me. Pushing my fingers
flat over her lacy mound, I stretched my thumb down, searching for and finding the
cause of that gash, digging my thumb into its depths as far as the panties would allow.


A commercial brought us suddenly to our senses, both pulling back. It didn't matter,
Dad kept his nose buried in the Economist, but we both knew things had been about
to get out of hand. If Mom had kept holding my cock, I would have tried to fuck her
right there on the couch, Dad or no Dad.

I jerked my head at the kitchen. Mom shook her head. I jerked it towards the stairs
and she shook it again. I knew I couldn't stay there, so I pulled my pajamas up and,
magazine covering my front as best I could, limped into the kitchen.

"What's the matter with Brent?" I heard Dad asking Mom. "Did he hurt himself?"

"Why?" Mom asked.

"He's limping," Dad replied. It sounded as if he was getting up. I panicked. How could
I explain this raging boner?

"No, you stay there." There was a lot of paper rustling, then, "I'll look after him."
Footsteps padded across the carpet, then Mom appeared in the doorway. She leaned back
in to look at Dad. "He must have gone downstairs. I'll make sure he's alright." Mom's
hand, inside the doorway, was waving me downstairs where I imagine she was going to
give me a piece of her mind. I went.

I turned to watch Mom come down the stairs, loving the look of her legs, trying to
look up her skirt at those lacy panties without success. Mom shooed me back, her flapping
hand urging me into the laundry room. She followed.

"Did you actually hurt yourself?" Mom asked, leaning to the side to look down my legs
and at my feet for some reason for me to be limping.

I didn't answer. Instead, I grabbed both of her hanging tits and squeezed them hard
enough to feel her nipples poking through her bra.

"Brent!" Mom gasped. "Stop that."

I kept mauling Mom's tits.

"Don't. ... Not here," her voice was almost as raspy as mine.

I held her tits up and, with a final pass over their tips with my thumbs, relented,
allowing them to drop free and watching them bounce to a standstill. Mom was breathing
hard.

"Brent, that was crazy."

I reached down under Mom's skirt with my right hand and pulled it up until I was cupping
those lacy, black panties. I rubbed her pussy through her panties and tugged her head
back with a handful of hair. I kissed her open mouth and, while my tongue started
sliding inside, let go of her hair to guide her right hand onto my hard cock, pressing
it against my pajamas.

Mom moaned into my mouth, so I shoved her hand inside my pajamas and let it go. Immediately,
she took hold of my proud member, fingers wrapping lovingly around it. My right hand
pushed down, dragging those skimpy panties away from her now wet pussy, far enough
for me to get my hand directly on her and slip a couple of fingers into her cunt.


Mom's head started shaking but I raised my hand to keep her mouth on mine and started
frigging her pussy. She didn't let go of my cock, so I knew she wasn't going to stop
me, no matter how much she shook her head. I kept fingering her and when the kiss
broke, I scraped clean laundry from the top of the dryer onto the floor, knelt down
in front of Mom, and tugged her panties down her legs.

Mom didn't struggle until the panties were clearing her foot. I slid my hands behind
her thighs and clutched her legs, cruelly gripping her flesh, opening her legs and
pulling her gaping cunt toward my mouth.

"Omigod," Mom cried as my lips enveloped hers and my tongue snaked its way up her
channel. "OMIGOD."

I moved my hands up to grip her ass, firmly clutching a cheek in each hand as Mom's
own hands pulled my head tighter against her writhing pussy. She was uttering a constant
stream now.

"Omigod ... omigod ... ohhhhhhhh ... uhhhh ... unnnnngghh ... omigod ... ohhhhhhhhhhh."


Suddenly, her hands gripped me hard, holding me in so tight I couldn't breathe, not
even through my nose. My face was flooded with a copious quantity of her juice in
sequential tidal waves of effluent. When she was still, I stood, just managing to
catch her weight as she went limp in my arms.

I lifted Mom up and her arms curled around my shoulders. She opened her legs and held
them wide when she felt me searching for her hole. Finally, I found it and started
sliding in, to the sound of a long, pleased and pleasing moan. To have a woman appreciate
you like that. Fuck!

Thank god I ate her first. She was so wet, I just slid right in but I could tell her
tight channel wasn't used to being filled like that, grudgingly expanding to accommodate
her new lover, her son.

I didn't' waste any time. I started banging Mom hard, urged on by her moans and grunts
as she flopped around at the mercy of my eager thrusts. I was exhausted after I finally
filled her with my spunk, my jiz running down the inside of both her legs, and mine
trembling from the effort. It was best that way, I remember thinking. If I'd got her
on the floor where I could push her legs back, or turned her onto her tummy, the slap
of our thighs would have woken the dead.

I confirmed that the next day, Sunday. Dad was out of the house with his golf bags
by six and at 6:01 I was creeping into my parents bedroom, stark naked. Mom was sleeping
on her stomach. With tremendous care, I dragged the blankets away inch by inch until
her body lay before me, covered by a conservative nightgown almost to the backs of
her knees, legs open with the right one lifted and bent.

Carefully, I shifted my weight onto the bed, crawling between her open legs, leaning
forward to brace my weight with a hand on either side of her. She murmured something,
her mind probably registering that my dad had come back to bed for some reason. She
turned more fully onto her tummy, something she really shouldn't have done, not if
she didn't want to get fucked.

I lowered my hips between her open legs and skittered my cock along the sheet until
it nudged against her bare pussy lips.

"No, Harold. Don't," Mom murmured.

I pushed, my cockhead splitting her slit and pushing inside.

Mom's eyes flew open, suddenly awake, realizing this was no 'Harold'.

I pushed in a couple of inches, finding it a lot harder to breach her than the night
before when she was soaking wet. I'll have to tongue her up first next time, I thought,
but now it was too late. Mercilessly, I shoved more cock inside my mother's cunt.


"Fuck me," Mom groaned, lifting her ass up so I could get more into her.

So I did. I came in her twice before she managed to get off the bed.

Later, downstairs, after she had dressed for church and we were waiting for Dad to
get back from his golf game, I managed to get my head under her going-to-church dress.
Her panties were soaked when I tugged them up her legs after upending her onto Dad's
couch.

"You're evil," she gasped as I sucked her nyloned toes into my mouth, undoing my buckle
and letting my dress slacks fall to my feet. After pushing my shorts down, I crouched
over her, bending her knees back to her shoulders, toes still in my mouth, and shoved
my cock into her pussy for the third time that morning.

"Pray Dad doesn't come home early," I advised my mother. "I'm reloaded and ready for
a good one."

"Show me," Mom laughed.

