URL: http://web.archive.org/web/20130802105951/http://www.literotica.com/s/it-started-with-a-slip-of-the-hand
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: It Started with a Slip of the Hand
Tags: It Started with a Slip of the Hand, alwayswantedto, mother son incest, mother son sex, milf, older woman, facial, younger man, doggie style, seduction, incest romance, reluctant

Summary:  Mom's reaction surprises son.

All characters are 18 years or older.

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

Twins? That was the big joke around our school. We hardly looked like members of the
same family let alone twin brothers. Yeah, our faces were similar Gordon was athletic
whereas I was just big; he was coordinated but I was clumsy; and everyone called him
Gordie but I was Stanley to everyone, even my parents, which I hated. Nobody called
me Stan. Sometimes I called my brother Gordon just to annoy him.

Other kids teased me but if it got out of hand Gordie would mete out sufficient punishment
to hold them at bay for a while. That didn't mean he wouldn't razz the hell out of
me himself. In fact, whenever he baled me out I knew I was in for some extra crap
to make up for it because he thought I owed him, and I guess I did.

The hazing tailed off in later years when the guys discovered girls. I was then left
pretty much alone, free to hang out with the other dweebs shunned by the cool kids.
Except, that is, by the Johnson brothers and their cohorts. Even Gordie and his friends
couldn't do much about them but I had learned to avoid them, for the most part.

I was always a disappointment to my father. I couldn't get the hang of fishing and
hunting disgusted me. I tried to understand the strategy behind baseball and to remember
the players in football but Gordie was better, probably because that's all his friends
talked about other than whose pants they could get into. My clumsiness invalidated
me as a contender in any sport except wrestling where my size made me hard to handle
for all but the skilled who made minced-meat of me in competitions. Of course, none
of this endeared me with our father, especially when Gordie was a natural at any sport
he tried.

At least I had Mom. She loved us both but I needed more attention and support and
I got it. Mom protected me from Gordie's shenanigans when she was aware of them so
I had always tried to be near her as much as possible for protection and peace of
mind.

And that's how it all started.

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

Gordie and I had both failed one grade. My struggles at school included both academics
and sports but Gordie could pass easily if he wanted to. When Mom and Dad leaned on
him to do better he used me as a defense claiming he couldn't leave me behind to fend
for myself. The truth had more to do with Gordie's status as a sports star at school
and the fact that his best girl was a year younger than him. Janet was the only one
he'd ever been serious about and didn't want to leave behind. So at eighteen, when
we should have both been graduating, Gordie and I were only nearing the end of grade
eleven.

The sad part was that Mom and Dad didn't even berate me for my performance. I guess
they always figured I was doing the best I could. In fact, I could do better. Maybe
not as well as Gordie but if something interested me I did well. My teachers had noted
this in elementary school but the fact seemed to have been forgotten. The truth was
I was lazy and also a little scared about leaving Gordie's protective circle.

Anyway, one day Gordie had been razzing me all afternoon at school and kept it up
at home. He kept poking and shoving me around, venting his frustration for having
to face down the Johnsons after specifically telling me to stay from them this week.
They were on the prod for something Gordie and his pals had done and I had walked
right in front of them when I didn't need to, prompting a rescue from Gordie and Bud
Crow, his best friend.

So Gordie had been tripping me and slugging my shoulder hard enough to leave big bruises.
I sought the protection provided by proximity to Mom. She was sewing at the dining
room table so I ran downstairs and stood behind her. Gordie followed but balked at
my smug but relieved smile knowing I was now under Mom's protection. He didn't dare
have at me with Mom right there. I started kneading Mom's shoulders so I would have
an excuse to stay, something I often did when fleeing Gordie's torment. My smile widened
to a grin as he passed behind me and that's when he let me have it.

Wham!

It was a real hard one, square on my bruised upper left arm, and totally unexpected.
I could have taken it better if he hadn't caught me so completely by surprise. I reeled
to the right but my feet remained planted on the floor so my body twisted at the waist
to compensate. Gordie whirled and ran off but not before leaving me with a lasting
impression of what my smug smile must have looked like, pasted on his own face.

I waited for Mom to scream at him for pasting me so hard and having the audacity to
do it in her presence. But Mom's condemnation didn't materialize and Gordie escaped
through the kitchen without retribution. Dumbfounded, and a little hurt, I looked
down to see why Mom had abandoned my cause. The sewing machine had stopped and Mom's
hands were frozen in position, one on the controls and the other on the material feeding
into it.

It took several long seconds for me to fathom the signals my eyes were sending to
my brain. Evidently, the force of Gordie's blow had knocked my right hand off Mom's
shoulder but the twisting motion of my torso had also turned it so instead of slipping
off Mom's shoulder and down her arm it had slid down into the front of her dress.


My eyes widened as I recognized my wrist lodged between Mom's breasts with the palm
turned toward the left one. That wasn't the worst. My fingers had curved around and
under the breast and were cupping Mom's bra.

I stared but couldn't move though my mind was screaming for me to get my hand the
fuck out of there! I tried again to withdraw my arm but it felt like lead though it
wasn't dead because the swollen press of Mom's breast rocketed sensations to my brain.
That organ almost exploded when Mom finally breathed.

My eyes flickered toward Mom's face and I gritted my teeth to brace against the barrage
that surely to be hurled in my direction within seconds. But Mom was staring straight
ahead, as if nothing was happening, as if my hand wasn't inside her dress, and my
fingers weren't curled around her left tit.

Twenty or thirty seconds passed and still Mom did not move or speak. She didn't make
a single sound. I straightened up and my hand slid out of her dress, slowly, to ensure
a sharp move wouldn't awaken Mom to my accidental transgression. Her tit lifted slightly
and pulled toward the center of her chest as my fingers remained rigidly curled as
they withdrew, reluctantly releasing their prize and letting it fall with a gentle
bounce. They dragged across Mom's neck until my hand again curled around her shoulder.
I kneaded with both hands, continuing the massage as if nothing had happened.

The sewing machine started and Mom's head followed the material as it progressed through
the machine. I massaged her neck for several more minutes, afraid to stop lest that
release the pent up anger she must surely be withholding. But eventually I realized
a rebuke wasn't forthcoming and I quietly withdrew. I went to my room to sort out
the thoughts and feelings swirling through my head.

What the fuck had just happened?

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

Mostly, I sat in fear of Mom coming to her senses and storming upstairs to give me
hell but the rest of the time I wondered why she had been so unresponsive. I mean,
she just sat there the whole time my hand was on her tit. It wasn't like she was ignoring
its presence but more like she didn't even know it was there. But how could she not?
Had Mom been so shocked that the thought of my hand on her tit was impossible to digest,
or was she just waiting for me to remove it so she could pretend it hadn't happened?
That would make it easier on us both.

And why the fuck hadn't I pulled my hand out right away? Yeah, I remembered my arm
feeling like lead but come on, I still should have been able to yank my hand out of
Mom's dress. But no, I left it there with my fingers curled around her tit. And man,
amidst the shock, I had to admit it felt great even through the bra, so curvy and
firm yet soft and yielding.

Holy fuck Stan! What's the matter with you? That was your mother's breast, Mom's tit,
for Christ's sake, you asshole!

I shook my head to rid myself of disgusting thoughts but the tactile memory of Mom's
tit refused to be erased, its shape persisting in my mind, though I hadn't actually
seen it. I thought about pictures of Mom when she was younger wearing tight sweaters
that showed the shape of her breasts. They were nice then, not too big and with a
really sexy shape. Some women had big breasts but they were fatty and not great to
look at. Mom's were above average in size and great to look at. They swept down and
jutted out. Hangers seemed an appropriate and descriptive name for them. It had been
a long time since Mom had worn form-fitting sweaters and I now knew it wasn't because
the goods weren't there, that was for sure.

It was too early to go to bed. Shit, it wasn't even supper time. Christ, supper! The
last thing I wanted to do was go downstairs to face Mom. She must think I'm terrible,
leaving my hand in there for so long, but it was an accident. All I had to do was
pull it out right away and say, "Sorry Mom" and that would have been it but now everything
was different. Why the fuck hadn't I pulled my fucking hand away? That fucking Gordie.
This was all his fault.

I threw myself back on my bed and covered my eyes with my arm. Sometime later, I don't
know how long, a barrage of thumps on the door yanked me out of Neverland where I
had escaped to hide my shame.

"Mom said to get your ass downstairs for supper," Gordie yelled.

I dragged my ass downstairs dreading Mom's first sight of me. And what about Dad?
Had she tole him?

Apparently, Mom wasn't mad. At least, she didn't seem to be. Talk around the table
proceeded normally which meant Gordie and Dad talked about sports and working on the
old GTO they were rebuilding together. Mom didn't say anything to me but when she
looked at me she simply smiled and shrugged the way she always did when Gordie and
Dad were talking. I began to feel better.

That night the memory of Mom's tit pervaded my thoughts and images of her in snug
sweaters, especially the kind that cross over in the front, filled my tightly closed
eyes. However, I refused to touch my cock though I usually fell asleep with my balls
cupped in my palm. It would have felt wrong when my mind was filled with images of
Mom. Tomorrow everything would be back to normal.

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

But it wasn't. I couldn't rid my mind of the memory of Mom's tit resting in my hand.
I could still feel its warmth. It got worse every day and by the end of the week its
imprint was embedded in my palm. Like a drug, I craved the opportunity to experience
the bliss of its touch again and entertained preposterous scenarios wherein I was
able to freely walk up behind Mom and slip my hands inside her dress to feel her tits
no matter who was present. In these ridiculous dreams nobody was aware of what I was
doing, including Mom. I was jacking off so much thinking of her at night that I became
seriously sleep deprived.

In desperation, I picked a fight with Gordie when Dad wasn't home. He tried to ignore
me because we were downstairs and so was Mom but I really pushed it and finally triggered
his explosive temper.

Gordie got up from the kitchen table and hissed, "Fuck off!" somehow managing to keep
the sound down while conveying how pissed he was and what would happen if I kept bugging
him. I backed away and he followed, his sneer changing into a malicious grin when
he saw that I was moving out of Mom's line of sight, should she turn around to look
at us.

"Eat me," I said in a whisper that couldn't be heard beyond the kitchen door.

Gordie thumped me hard in the chest with both hands and I fell back, too easily crashing
into the fridge with a bang that rattled everything inside. The slug that followed
landed with a loud thud on my shoulder.

"Ow," I wailed loudly.

A dining room chair skidded back. Gordie's jabbing stare threatened to kill me on
the spot.

"You're dead!" he hissed.

"I heard that," Mom yelled, bursting into the kitchen.

Gordie protested. "Mom, he…"

"I don't want to hear it."

"But he…"

"I said I don't want to hear it."

I managed to keep a smirk off my face so I could feign real pain.

"Are you okay?" Mom asked, concerned.

"He's fine. He…"

"Gordon, go to your room."

"Aw, come on, he started it."

Mom whirled around.

"I mean NOW!"

The smirk emerged full blown on my face. Gordie's eyes shot daggers at me but he turned
and walked out of the kitchen. As he stomped up the stairs, Mom yelled, "And clean
up that pigsty."

The smirk turned into a pained look as Mom turned back to me.

"Are you okay Stanley?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I don't know why he gets so mad sometimes. I was just kidding around."


"I'll talk to your father about it tonight."

"No, Mom. Please don't."

"You're right," she relented, knowing Dad wouldn't do anything. "Will some hot chocolate
make you feel better?"

Mom knew I loved her special hot chocolate.

"No, but I'll make you some tea. Please go back to your sewing. Gordie's temper shouldn't
ruin your afternoon."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

I assured Mom I would live. She returned to her sewing and I made tea. I walked silently
behind her and set it on the table within reach but not in the way of the material
she was sewing.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Are you sure you're okay. It sounded like he hit you really hard."


"I'm okay, Mom."

Mom tried to take a sip of tea but it was too hot so she returned to her sewing. I
remained behind her, watching. A minute passed before I put a hand on each shoulder
and started to knead. Several minutes passed, then a few more, until at least five
had gone by. Though I probably appeared relaxed on the outside, on the inside I was
struggling.

I looked down into the square bodice of Mom's dress, captivated by the twin mounds
of swollen flesh that disappeared beneath the fabric just as they were beginning to
look like what they really were. Could I do this? It was now or never. I took a deep
breath and took the plunge.

My right hand slid down, dipping into the hollow above Mom's clavicle and beyond until
my fingertips penetrated the edge of the bodice. The sewing machine stopped but Mom's
hands remained on the controls. I took a short breath, and then another. Her chest
rose and fell twice as similarly shallow breaths half filled her lungs. My left hand
cupped the crook of her neck and she relaxed but then stiffened when my right hand
pushed deeper into the bodice.

The sharp sound of air sucking quickly into lungs—Mom's or mine or both, I don't know
which. My fingers brushed over the upper swells of her breasts until they were stopped
by the material of her bra, but only momentarily. As if with a mind of its own, my
hand pushed on and suddenly it was cupping Mom's left breast.

Nothing happened for several excruciatingly long seconds. Not a even a breath disturbed
the silence. Mom didn't say a word or utter a single sound. She was completely silent
and still. I was about to pull my hand away, ready to loudly express my apologies
for the 'accident', when Mom's head turned to the left and tilted forward.

I squeezed a painful breath through constricted lungs. I was scared, and hard, and
my mind was screaming for me get my hand the hell out of there. Instead I gently squeezed
my prize, clearly admitting this was no accident. The taste of fear was strong in
my mouth but it stimulated me even further. I was surprised that Mom hadn't jumped
up to give me what-for. I squeezed her tit again lifted, mashing it against her chest.
Still, Mom did nothing!

I curved my palm over the top and felt a hard nub poking through the material of the
bra. My cock throbbed as soon as I realized it was her nipple. Was it always so stiff
or had I excited it into this state?

I wanted to push my hand inside the bra to feel it scrape against my bare palm, wanted
to remove the bra from the other tit to feel it too to see if it was soft unlike the
one I was holding, and probably would have if Dad hadn't driven into the driveway
at that moment. Reluctantly, I released my prize but only after a final, exhilarating
squeeze. I leaned down and kissed the top of Mom's head which was still turned to
the left and tilted down. As I stepped back, it straightened.

"Stanley."

"Yes," I replied meekly, fear of retribution searing through my chest.

"Tell your brother he can come downstairs for dinner after he's cleaned his room."


"Okay Mom."

Of course, I didn't say anything to Gordie.

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

I couldn't get to sleep that night, not from yearning to caress Mom's tits, but because
of the deep guilt over having done it. The first time had been an accident but now
I had deliberately felt her up, hoping that she would allow it in the belief I was
in a fragile state of mind and needed her maternal comfort.

What kind of low-life user would take such advantage of the woman that gave him life
and coddled him for so many years? What kind of payment was that for a mother's devotion?
And worse, though traumatized by my disgusting behavior, I craved another divine,
tit-fondling experience. The way it had felt, that beautiful, wonderful hanger!

Would Mom let me do it again? Probably, if I could contrive a situation in which I
was physically or emotionally wounded in some way and therefore worthy of her motherly
comfort. Mom had offered the warmth of her maternal breast and I was not about to
spurn it. Yet it wasn't until the next day, when I felt a subtle change in the way
she hugged me, that I gathered the courage to again seek her blissful solace.

Unlike Gordie, I was in the habit of giving Mom a hug before leaving for school and
when I came home. Like many women, she leaned forward, probably to keep her breasts
from pressing against the person she was hugging. Mom had stopped leaning forward
when she hugged me, and I took that as a favorable sign, although perhaps I was swayed
by the gentle bump of her breasts on my chest.

It was a week before I was ready to attempt another visit to heaven. It took that
long before I could goad one of the Johnson crowd into a brief fight. I managed one
missed swing before getting two jabs to the sides and a hammer to the upper cheekbone
that toppled me into a pile of pain on the ground. Despite the one-sided affair there
were numerous witnesses to attest that I had provoked the Johnsonite and the Vice-Principal
sent me home. I was elated; I couldn't have asked for more.

Mom had been phoned by the Vice Principal but, as I expected, she wasn't mad. I knew
she wouldn't believe I started the fight—who would? A mug of hot chocolate was waiting
for me in the kitchen. I sipped at it slowly while Mom sat at the other end of the
table, drinking hers with painfully sympathetic compassion, waiting for me to speak.
I remained silent, looking down and drinking slowly, waiting for her to express her
empathy so I could take the opportunity to receive her comfort, hopefully of the breast-fondling
kind. However, whenever I looked up, with big, soulful eyes, Mom looked away, perhaps
unable to directly bear my obvious depression. Maybe I had played my hand too well.


How could I get Mom to sew instead of sitting opposite me at the kitchen table? Since
I was the one that was supposed to be depressed and in need of comfort, it didn't
make sense for me to go to her and massage her shoulders. It would be so easy if I
could just get started. She was wearing a housecoat which was odd for so late in the
afternoon. My hand would slip so easily inside her robe.

Mom must be really worried about me to be wearing a robe so late in the day and that
bode well, leading me to believe my in-need-of-sympathy ploy was going to work. That
was it. All I had to to was gaze at her with a forlorn look and then seek comfort
when she responded with a sympathetic look. But Mom wouldn't meet my eyes and that
denied an opening for me to go to her.

As I waited patiently for relief, my gaze dropped to her chest. What was she wearing
under that robe? The jostling when she sat down suggested the usual bra wasn't there
to hold things in place. My cock stirred at the thought and Mom looked at me before
I could shift my eyes so I started talking to throw off suspicion about what was filling
my mind. I had missed the opportunity to go to her. Dammit.

As I droned on Mom looked away. My gaze returned to her chest and she looked back,
catching me again, but looked away almost immediately. The chest-gazing interval was
longer that time and the one after that even better. Was Mom purposely letting me
enjoy the mysteries hidden under her loosely belted robe? The first words out of her
mouth dispelled that notion.

"Well, I can see you're alright, despite the bruises. You and I both know you didn't
start that fight. Stanley, you really need to start standing up for yourself."

She was right of course. Normally I never would have started anything. Mom knew me
too well, or, in this case, not well enough. Nevertheless, I was taken aback. This
wasn't what I was expecting. I tried to recover the sympathetic mood I had been hoping
for.

"I did Mom. I almost got one in," I lied.

"Well, that's good but you need to do more than that."

"I'll try," I mumbled, trying to look vulnerable.

"You're big enough to scare them off if you just hit back. You don't have to win,
just make it cost something."

Mom started to get up but I blurted out a detailed, fake description of the fight
in a desperate attempt to keep her in the kitchen with me. She stopped half way out
of her chair and leaned on the table with both hands. The robe opened and I could
see the nightgown underneath, its deep V combining with her forward leaning stance
to reveal her swinging breasts.

My story stumbled as my attention wavered and Mom stood all the way up. My heart sank,
knowing she was about to leave me alone. She pulled the bathrobe tight around herself
and said in a disbelieving tone, "I really have to get my sewing done, Stanley."

Real depression suddenly hit me like a freight train. I wanted to follow her, or better,
to block her path, but I couldn't move and, anyway, her jostling tits had made my
cock way too hard for me to stand up. Mom left and I finished my hot chocolate alone,
listening to the sewing machine as I waited for my hardon to subside. But it wouldn't,
not the least because I kept picturing Mom's open robe and the way her breasts fell
forward free of any constriction. Strangely, knowing I had had probably blown the
chance to touch them made my erection all the more persistent.

Finally, I got up, took Mom's mug to the sink and rinsed it with mine, then went into
the dining room. I watched her sew, unable to go upstairs but incapable of doing anything
else. Her flip from sympathetic compassion to insistence that I act to defend myself
still confused me. I felt a sudden, deep sorrow and lurched toward her until I was
standing right behind her. I felt lost and wanted to hug her but Mom kept sewing as
if I wasn't there though I knew she was aware of my presence.

"I'll try harder next time," I mumbled.

The sewing machine didn't stop but it slowed and Mom's head turned slightly to the
left, indicating that she was at least aware I had spoken even if she hadn't heard
me over the machine.

"I'll try harder," I repeated.

Mom's head straightened and seemed to nod, just once.

A lump swelled up inside my throat and I put my hands on Mom's shoulders though her
demeanor was still not welcoming. The machine stopped. Mom's hands remained on the
controls, like before, but this time she released a long, resigned sigh. I had only
wanted to hug her in the old way but that sigh triggered a different desire within
me. It was like she was expecting something else, something unwanted, but inevitable.
Was it possible she would console me again in that special way? Was her cold reaction
a simply a deception to ward me off?

I pulled at the collar of the robe to make room to massage Mom's neck and shoulders
but I had something else in mind. The lapels gapped open, revealing a pale blue, silk
nightgown under the darker blue robe. Without any pretense of massage my right hand
slid down to her solar plexus. Mom's breath sucked in hard, then her head turned to
the left and tilted forward the way it had when she had acquiesced before. My cock
jumped inside my pants as my right hand continued its journey, slipping under the
robe and sliding over Mom's left breast, taking it into full possession.

How wonderful it felt covered only by the thin nightgown. Its exquisite shape caressed
the full expanse of my palm to the root of my fingers, nudging between the base of
my index and longest fingers, and imparting a warmth which promised that what I had
previously felt was only a shadow of what was to come. Soft, yet firm and resilient,
it triggered a groan within me which I barely suppressed. My legs weakened. Such a
beautiful, gorgeous tit, the only one I had ever held, but which I knew in my heart
was perfect.

I closed my fingers around it and squeezed gently, released, and squeezed again, then
pulled it up and pressed it against Mom's chest like I'd done before. This time, as
I pressed my palm onto the top of Mom's breast, the nipple poked hard through the
thin nightgown, sending a thrill coursing up my arm. I lifted and mashed it down again,
rubbing my palm hard over Mom's stiff nipple!

My fingers closed around the tiny cock perched on her tit and, fearing this would
make her pull away, I curled my left arm loosely around her head to keep her in place.
But there was no reaction except the stiffening of Mom's nipple. Excited beyond words,
I flicked it with my thumb for several long seconds before moving to the right to
take possession of the other breast. Its nipple wasn't nearly so prominent but as
I massaged and flicked, it too began to grow. Soon, it was as stiff as the left.

I released Mom's head and dropped my left hand inside her robe to take hold of her
left tit. I squeezed and massaged and flicked both nipples but never ventured inside
the nightgown itself, afraid to venture beyond what I had already been allowed to
do. I was completely satisfied. If only I could do this anytime I wanted.

Mom's head hung between my arms and her quiet acceptance made me wonder if I really
could hold her bare breasts. Would she let me?

I released her tits and slid my hands up to probe inside the nightgown but when my
fingertips slipped under the nightdress the sewing machine growled into life. Mom's
head turned forward but remained tilted down. Respecting this half signal, I withdrew
my hands. As they slipped out of the robe, Mom lifted her head and started to sew.


I needed something more from her, some hint that this would happen again, but sensed
it wasn't forthcoming. Then I wanted to express my appreciation for her 'comfort'
but thought better of it. I slipped quietly away and went to my room where I jacked
off a huge load and not long after, another.

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

Mom didn't sew the next day, or the day after that, or the one after that. On the
fourth day the machine was put away. Over the next week my disappointment transformed
into depression and then desperation. In a moment of clarity, I reviewed the situation
and realized I had misinterpreted Mom's message.

Despite her cold reaction in the kitchen she had allowed me to seek comfort inside
her robe and that made me think everything was okay but I was wrong. I had missed
the significance of the words I had mumbled—"I'll try harder."

When Mom had allowed me to touch her I had thought it was because my pathetic words
had made her feel sorry for me again but in fact she was rewarding me for getting
on the right tract. Mom had indicated what she wanted me to do and if I wanted to
enjoy her maternal comfort in the future, I had to make her believe I was doing what
she wanted. Those words had done just that and if I wanted more I had to build on
them.

One night after dinner, I told Gordie I would do the dishes myself to make up for
getting him in trouble two weeks before. Gordie was dubious but he wasn't about to
look a gift horse in the mouth, so he quickly disappeared. While I was doing the dishes,
Mom came into the kitchen to put the leftovers in the fridge.

"Where's your brother?" she asked, annoyed.

"I don't know," I said, acting dumb.

"Dammit!" Mom exclaimed.

"Please don't say anything Mom."

"He's not getting away with it this time."

"Let me handle it Mom," I pleaded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said, pleased that she hadn't said 'Can you'.

"Like you said, I need to start standing up for myself."

'Are you sure, Stanley?" she asked again, sounding worried. It wasn't quite 'Can you?'
but is was close.

"Yeah Mom, I think so," I replied, trying to sound falsely confident. "With a little
help."

Mom smiled and I felt good because I knew in that moment she was proud of me. I opened
the fridge so she could put away the bowls she was holding in her hand. She put one
on the top shelf, then bent down to put the other on the shelf above the crisper.
I hadn't meant to act selfishly but when Mom bent over her buttocks pressed invitingly
against her dress, even through the heavy tweed material.

My cock swelled and I would have pressed it against her but she stood up too quickly.
However, before she could turn around, my arms encircled her waist. Mom's head tilted
back against my shoulder. I held her for a moment in a loving, platonic hug. My hands
loosened as if I was about to release her but then slid around to take the weight
of her breasts. Mom's head swiveled quickly toward the open kitchen doorway.

"Stanley!" she hissed.

"Shhhhh," I whispered.

"But, your brother…"

"…will stay away until the dishes are finished."

My logic was impeccable.

"Your father…"

"…is watching TV."

There was nothing else to say. I felt bad about taking immediate advantage of Mom's
new pride in me but she felt so good leaning back against me, especially after the
past week of drought. Mom didn't struggle but I knew she was searching for an excuse
to break away and would likely do it sooner than later whether or not she found a
reason.

"I have to be a man to stand up to Gordie."

It was a desperate plea and I don't know why I said it but it was true. Perhaps I
was subconsciously aware that Mom knew it too and that was why she had allowed me
to do what I had done. Somehow I had put what we were both feeling into words.

Right or wrong, there must have been a mutual understanding because the tension in
Mom's neck and shoulders subsided. Before she could change her mind, or find my words
wanting, I pulled apart two of the big buttons binding the front of the heavy tweed
dress.

I discovered then something I didn't know. When Mom wore thick dresses that could
disguise movement she wore a slip to protect her skin from the roughness of the material
but no bra to constrain her breasts. Instantly, my hardness strengthened and pressed
into the back of her dress.

"Stanley," Mom whispered, realizing the extent of my excitement, but it was more a
plea than a command to stop.

I slipped my hands inside the dress, filled them with her beautiful tits, and breathed
heavily against the side of her neck. Mom gasped as my fingers found and closed over
her nipples which stiffened more quickly than the last time, as if primed to do so.


"Stanley," Mom pleaded.

"Please," I gasped into the hollow of her neck.

I flicked Mom's nipples with my thumbs and kissed the side of her neck. She let me
massage her breasts and even allowed my bulge to press into her firm behind. But when
I realized the slip was cut deeper than the dress and pulled the material apart to
bare Mom's breasts, she began to struggle. I pushed her onto the fridge and took her
bare tits into my hands, pressing on her behind to prevent her escape. The thought
of my brother upstairs and my father sitting in the living room only feet away caused
my cock to surge between Mom's cheeks.

Mom let me roll her nipples and press my cock against her for another minute, perhaps
knowing I was too far gone to reason with, but then shoved herself and me violently
off the fridge. I stumbled backward and Mom whirled around, ready to push me away
if I persisted, but I simply stood there, incapable of action. She buttoned her dress,
regarding me with a strange look I couldn't decipher. In no apparent hurry she smoothed
her dress over her hips, turned, and sauntered out of the kitchen. At the last minute
I garnered the presence of mind to admire the sweet sway of her hips.

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

No further maternal comfort was offered during the following week even though I twice
managed to trick Gordie into behaving badly towards me. It was confirmation that Mom
would reward me only if I stood up for myself. The sympathy ploy would no longer work.
But how could I stand up to Gordie or the Johnsons without getting creamed?

After another week of drought I came up with a plan. Gordie always needed money to
take Janet out and I had lots banked since I never had anything to spend it on. Gordie
knew this and was always trying to borrow it but I had learned the hard way that he
never paid me back. I offered to pay Gordie if he would do the dishes himself and
not tell Mom about the deal.

"Whatever dude," was his only response.

That night I was sitting in the living room watching TV with Dad while Gordie was
doing the dishes by himself. Mom went upstairs but turned half way up and looked back,
her eyes seeking me out. As soon as I noticed, she turned and continued up the stairs.
I didn't know what to make of it for a minute, then got up and followed her, excitement
growing within me as I tried not to jinx the feeling that maybe the new strategy was
working sooner than I thought. I hadn't expected a reward until Mom had seen Gordie
doing the dishes for a few days at least.

She was waiting near the entrance to my room, leaning against the hallway. As I approached,
she asked, "Why is Gordon doing the dishes by himself?"

"Because he owes me," I lied.

"Is that so?" She knew it was true, but that wasn't actually the question.

"Yeah," I said, then added the explanation she she was really demanding. "Like you
said, a man needs to stand up for himself."

Mom smiled and curled her hands above her head, letting her fingers play with her
hair, but it was the way her breasts lifted that caught my attention.

"And do you feel like a man now?" she asked.

I glanced at Mom's body which, twisting as she pivoted on the axis of her right heel
and the back of her head pressed against the wall. Her dress wasn't as thick as the
tweed one but I could tell she wasn't wearing a thick, constraining bra underneath.
Despite her saucy demeanor it unnerved me to openly cruise her body while she was
facing me. I raised my eyes and tried to meet her steady gaze but couldn't.

"Yeah," I mumbled, looking down the hall where I could hear Gordie banging the dishes
around.

When I looked back, Mom had turned and walked away, into my room. She sat on the far
side of the bed, facing the wall. I followed her into the room and started to close
the door.

"Leave it open."

She didn't say why but I hoped it was so she could hear Gordie doing the dishes rather
than being afraid to be alone with me behind a closed door. In that moment, I deeply
regretted forcing myself upon her in the kitchen.

I left the door and approached the bed, expecting her to speak again but she didn't.
I waited but she remained silent. Finally, I knelt on the bed behind her, unsure of
myself, but hoping. Mom's head turned to the left as if to look at me but then tilted
down. My cock lurched inside my pants.

The signal.

I placed my hands on Mom's dress, flat against the side of her breasts. The meaty
warmth confirmed my suspicion that she wasn't wearing one of those thick white brassieres.
I slid my hands around to the front of the dress and molded them around her breasts
seeking the telltale signs of the nipples I had enjoyed so much. After rubbing my
palms on the dress for a few seconds I wanted more but this dress didn't open in the
front. I moved my right hand behind Mom's neck and started to undo the zipper. Mom
sucked her breath in and straightened her back, perhaps not expecting this, at least
so soon, but didn't move away or tell me to stop.

I pulled the zipper down slowly but it caught anyway and I struggled to free it, pulling
up and down several times before it came unstuck. I left the dress covering Mom's
shoulders but pushed my hands inside, sliding around her waist over the slippery material
of the slip, until I felt the softness of her belly and the heavieness of her breasts
hanging above.

The slip was cut too low in front to constrain Mom's breasts and they literally jutted
off her chest. My hands rose, grasping and lifting Mom's tits. I was content for the
moment to hold them outside the material of the slip because I knew I would soon be
holding the real, bare things in my hands. Somehow, I knew Mom would allow it and
I savored the exquisite joy of anticipation.

I thought I could wait longer but my hands soon slid back, parted the low cut slip,
and took Mom's lovely bare tits into my hands, no longer held back by the fear that
she would stop me. As long as Gordie banged the dishes downstairs, I was sure I would
be allowed to play, as long as I didn't go too far.

My hands skidded all over Mom's bare breasts, fingers curling to accommodate their
shape and palms sliding underneath to assume their perfectly rounded shape. Mom murmured
something I couldn't make out and tried to turn her head back farther as if she wanted
to bury her face in my shoulder. Her back arched and that pushed her tits harder into
my palms.

I dropped my mouth onto Mom's neck and kissed it, losing myself in her tits, the softness
of her skin, and the fragrance of her hair. I don't know how long I stroked and squeezed
and caressed her breasts, and I lost track of how many times my fingers and thumbs
rolled her nipples and tugged them teasingly off her chest. I only knew that when
her head lifted it was far too soon.

"Gordon is finished," Mom declared, the shortness of her breath exciting me further.


I lifted my head to listen and nodded dumbly but continued to massage Mom's tits,
now swollen from the mauling they had been subjected to for the last who-knows-how-many
minutes. The nipples, thick and hard, perched precariously upon trembling swells and
each heavy breath threatened to throw them off. I tried to take them between thumbs
and fingers—I couldn't give a fuck what Gordie was doing—but Mom brushed her hands
down the outside of her dress and dislodged mine on the inside.

I tried to hold Mom in place, as I had done against the fridge. My left hand grasped
her waist above her hip and the right slipped lower, onto her pantyhose. Mom's breath
sucked in hard and she went rigid. I froze, fearful that I had over-played my hand
but her muscles gradually loosened and her breath eased from her chest. My mind was
like chilled molasses and couldn't will my body to move. My hand was on Mom's pantyhose!


Instead of a rebuke, Mom looked straight at the wall but didn't lower her head. It
was a mixed signal which confused me for a few seconds. I didn't consciously make
a decision but my left hand rose to cup Mom's left breast and followed its contours
until her nipple was once more in my grasp. I slid my right hand lower, crossing over
the raspy material of Mom's pantyhose to climb the gentle pout of her belly, and descended
onto the triangular delta that flattened into the approach to the juncture of her
legs but then stopped prematurely at the artificial barrier defined by the waistline
of the tiny panties under the pantyhose.

I paused there, afraid to proceed nearer that most taboo of places but when Mom failed
to block further progress I pushed lower. My fingers had just started to challenge
a smaller rise when she abruptly crossed her legs. I tried to push further anyway
but Mom's arms clutched her sides and her hands pressed down on my forearms in a firm
signal to stop so, with great reluctance, I respected the message and withdrew my
hands from her dress.

As soon as I did, Mom zipped it up, went to the door without saying a word, and walked
quickly down the hall to her room. Dismayed by her silent exit, I was somewhat cheered
when she paused briefly at her door to smile, almost apologetically, before disappearing
into her room. The consequential surge of exhilaration was dampened when I realized
I had come in my pants, I guess while rubbing my cock against her back. I shut the
door just as Gordie topped the stairs.

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

Life took on new meaning for me after that. What had been shit before now held enormous
promise. I could hardly wait to savor each new moment, at least the ones with Mom.
But zest for life was accompanied by a fear greater than death, the fear that Mom
would discover the lies I had told to win her favor. If she knew I hadn't stood up
to Gordie, that I had paid him to do the dishes, she might never trust me again, and
worse, withdraw her maternal comfort. If I wanted to continue enjoying my new life,
I would have to really stand up for myself. That was a scary prospect but it didn't
seem such a daunting task now that I knew the rewards could be so great.

I joined a gym, started lifting weights, and enrolled in a Judo class. I tried to
get Gordie to do the dishes again but he didn't need any money having just been paid
for his part-time work as a waiter. I knew that eventually he would need more bread
but I was impatient. Challenging one of the Johnson crowd was too risky because I
wasn't ready and could get seriously hurt if I acted prematurely because they would
be rougher on me if I took them on again. So more than two weeks went by without an
excuse to approach Mom and she offered no opportunity for me to sponge off my previous
triumph.

In desperation I upped the ante.

"Thirty bucks?" Gordie asked.

"Yeah, but you gotta clean your room for Mom too."

"I ain't cleaning my room and doing the dishes too."

"It's only worth twenty then, like before."

"Nope. Thirty. You shouldn't look so desperate, dude."

"Forty, but you clean your room and do the dishes two days in a row."

"Fifty."

Exasperated, I countered with an offer I was sure Gordie wouldn't refuse.

"A hundred, but you do the dishes all week and your room on the first day."

"A hundred? I don't believe you."

"A hundred," I confirmed. "Twenty-five up front and the rest next Saturday."

I pulled my wallet out and counted out twenty-five dollars.

"Another twenty-five as soon as my room's done, and fifty on Saturday."

"Okay, deal."

"Man, why are you sucking up to Mom so much? Dad won't let you get a car, you know,
not before me."

I should have known Gordie would think it was about a car. All he thought about was
drinking with his friends, cars, and fucking girls but his focus suited me fine.

"I don't want a car of my own. I'd rather use Mom's station wagon."

"The wagon? What for?"

"That's my business," I answered.

Gordie shook his head. I had only said I wanted to use Mom's station wagon because
I knew he wouldn't want it, preferring Dad's wheels, but I should have known that
if I wanted it, he would too.

"I can see how the wagon would be handy on a date," he mused. "Okay, a hundred but
I only do the dishes on Tuesday and Thursday."

Two days. That wasn't good enough. For the first time in my life I called Gordie's
bluff and stood pat.

"No way, only two days," he countered.

I thought about what was at stake for me and upped my offer but also my take.

"Two hundred," I countered, "but for that you do Tuesdays and Thursdays for three
weeks and your room every Thursday. I pay fifty each Thursday and an extra on the
Friday after the last one."

"Two fifty," Gordie countered.

"Two hundred," I remained firm.

"Okay, two hundred," Gordie acquiesced, cementing the first victory over him in my
whole life.

"Deal," I confirmed.

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

The stage was set. The next Tuesday Gordie kept his word. After dinner, I stretched,
thanked Mom for the great meal and got up from the table after looking Gordie in the
eye. I moved to the stairs and looked back at Gordie. He got up and started clearing
the plates. I glanced at Mom and started up the stairs. Dad had already gone to the
living room to watch TV and was easing his bulk into his chair.

I resisted the urge to turn around to see if Mom was following me and went straight
to my room where I stood with my back against the wall by the door. A minute or two
passed while I struggled not to peek to see if she was coming and I was startled when
she passed through the door. I hadn't heard her approach in her stocking feet.

Mom went around the end of the bed and sat on the far side like she had done a few
weeks earlier. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she reached behind and unzipped
her dress, leaving it joined at the back of the neck like before. Her head turned
to the left and she cast her eyes downward.

I waited half a minute, not wanting to seem too eager, before kneeling on the bed
behind Mom. Dishes clattered downstairs—I had left the door open so we could hear
Gordie destroying the dishes. I prayed he wouldn't finish them too quickly.

My hands slipped inside the back of Mom's dress and curved around her waist, then
moved up to cup her breasts. She was wearing a slip similar to the one she'd worn
before, cut very low in front and providing easy access to her bare boobs. Her nipples
were already standing up proud so I knew that, although this was something she felt
compelled to do for my well-being, it wasn't a chore and that sent a thrill through
my soul.

I placed my thumbs on the upper side of Mom's nipples and flicked downward, snapping
those stiff little babies and producing a sharp gasp from Mom. I caressed her breasts
lovingly for several minutes in contrast to the mauling I had visited upon them before.
I wanted to show her how much I appreciated what she was doing and that I knew how
lucky I was that she loved me enough to do it.

I leaned over Mom's shoulder to watch my hands move under the dress, then brushed
her chocolate brown hair away from her shoulder with my nose and gently nibbled the
crook of her neck. That brought her head more to center but she moved it back a second
later to bare her neck again. I nibbled and squeezed Mom's breasts and tugged her
nipples and, yes, pressed my boner against her back and rubbed it along her spine.
I kept this up until Mom's short breaths became more frequent and erratic.

I released Mom's right nipple and let my hand slide down onto her belly. I moved slowly
so as not to startle her and to give her plenty of opportunity to reject my intended
path if she wished, but she didn't. My fingers scraped over the pantyhose, quickly
attaining the previous barrier of the panty waistband under the hose, and then moved
quickly beyond before she could stop me by crossing her legs.

I had caught Mom off guard. Her legs did snap shut but they closed over a palm that
now cupped it's prize. Mom's neck stiffened and her head began to lift but I pressed
my forehead in to block its rise. My mouth pressed on her ear and I whispered, "Shhhhh,"
but it was likely because my hand stayed absolutely still that Mom refrained from
further preventive action. Gradually, the tension dissipated from her neck and I tickled
the edge of her ear with the tip of my tongue, rolled her left nipple, and did nothing
else.

A minute or so later I pressed my cock firmly into Mom's lower back and that had the
indirect effect of pushing her mound onto my palm. I think if I had squeezed or rubbed
her pussy, even through the thickness of the pantyhose, Mom would have put a stop
to things right then and there but the 'accidental' nudge caused by the pressure on
her back produced no such censure.

I continued to gently press my cock into Mom's back and enjoyed each resulting nudge
of her pussy onto my hand. When I sensed her growing discomfort I slipped my hands
out of her dress before she felt the need to end things with a newly defined barrier.
The sharp intake of breath and twitch of her head indicated her surprise but while
she was still confused by my early withdrawal I undid the little hook on the dress
at the back of her neck.

Mom's head lifted fully then but before she could raise her arms to stop it I pushed
the dress off her shoulders and down to the elbows. The slip followed and both dropped
away, leaving Mom's breasts fully exposed. For the first time I saw the glorious globes
that had been imparting thrills to my hands.

They were gorgeous, as perfect as I had imagined for so many nights with a stiff cock
in my hand. Her magnificent tits sloped down and then suddenly swept away from her
chest. They were capped by long nipples that seemed ready to leap from their meaty
hosts as they swayed from side to side.

"Beautiful," I whispered, unable to maintain silence, recklessly risking the integrity
of the spell that bound us together.

I touched the tips of Mom's nipples briefly and then took the rest of her breasts
into my hands. Caressing briefly, I released Mom's breasts for a few seconds to let
the raw air enhance the intensity of my touch before capturing them again. Her reaction
showed my instinct was sound.

I would have continued loving Mom's breasts, growing more and more excited by the
erratic pattern of her breathing and the feel of her spine rubbing against my cock,
but the sound of Gordie's steps on the stairs forced me to get up. I quickly shut
the door and turned around to see Mom sitting up on the bed, back still toward me,
already pulling her dress into place.

Gordie thumped on the door and fear gripped me, not about him bursting in because
I had blocked the door with my foot and knee, but what if he asked to be paid despite
the arrangement to pay him on Thursdays?

"I'm done," he growled.

"Okay," I croaked. I tried to think of something to say that would prevent him from
asking for payment but couldn't think of anything that wouldn't be just as big a tip-off
for Mom.

She appeared at my side, hair disheveled, and zipped up her dress. My mouth dropped
open in shock at the clearly audible, easily recognizable sound. There was a deep
chuckle from the other side of the door.

"You know that can make you go blind, Dude," Gordie said.

He moved away, laughing. Mom opened the door as soon as his closed and stepped into
the hall. I watched her glide silently down the hall but this time she didn't look
back before disappearing into her room. I closed the door and returned to my bed,
trying to absorb what had just happened and wondering if it meant anything that Mom
hadn't smiled before entering her room. I was convinced it was a bad omen but the
memory of her allowing me to clutch her mound and letting me see her bare breasts,
however unintentionally, left me with more than a semblance of hope.

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

On Wednesday and Thursday I reminded Gordie that our deal was not a one day arrangement.
Of course, he disagreed and argued that I owed him money for Tuesday but softened
the blow by saying he'd think about helping me out on Thursday. I knew he was just
yanking my chain but couldn't ignore it. So here I was, paying him and feeling like
he was doing me a favor, yet again.

Mom was cool toward me on Wednesday and even told me to clean my room despite it being
as neat and tidy as usual. Gordie got a kick out of that because he still hadn't cleaned
his room as he was obligated to do according to our deal. Thursday morning, Mom complained
that I put dishes away in the wrong place despite the fact that it had been Gordie's
turn to dry Wednesday night so he was the real culprit. Gordie smirked big time. Things
weren't looking good.

At supper time Mom was distant which didn't help my stomach, already upset from worrying
so much, so I was the last to finish dinner. Dad went to watch TV as usual and Gordie
started clearing the dishes, smirking to show how clever he was to have made me think
he wasn't going to follow through on our deal. Mom hadn't said a word all through
dinner but when Gordie started picking up the dishes she sort of 'came to' and stared
at him. I was staring at Gordie too because I was trying to think of how I was going
to get out of paying him the rest of the two hundred bucks for doing the dishes for
the next two weeks. Mom certanly didn't seem to be in a comforting mood and I didn't
want to cough up the money for no nothing.

"Stanley."

I looked at Mom.

"If you can't finish your dinner, scrape your plate and give it to your brother."


I nodded, feeling relieved despite Mom's tone&emdash;at least she knew I was alive&emdash;but
she had already looked away and was dabbing her lips with a napkin. She folded it
and threw it on the table with a snap of her hand, abruptly pushed her chair back
and stood up. Ignoring me, she walked to the kitchen doorway and said something to
Gordie that I couldn't hear, looked at Dad in the living room and then turned to me.


In a stern voice, she said, "I want to talk to you," then turned and walked upstairs.


Holy shit! I took my plate into the kitchen, scraped it into the garbage, and handed
it to Gordie who was all smiles.

"Stanley," he mimicked. "I want to talk to you."

I left the kitchen riding the wave of Gordie's laughter and started up the stairs
but stopped several steps up. Returning to the kitchen, I put fifty bucks on the counter
near Gordie and said, "Deal's off."

"No fucking way. A deal's a deal. I'm doing these for two more weeks. You better cough
up another hundred fifty or I'll take it out of your hide."

There was no point arguing with him so I returned to the stairs and went upstairs.
I didn't want to go. Mom had been lost in her thoughts all day and from the sound
of her voice I didn't want to hear what she had to say. My feet felt heavier with
every step.

The hallway was empty. Was she waiting in my room or hers?

I peeked in Mom's room, hoping to find her there because that would mean a brief telling
off and then dismissal, but she wasn't there.

I sighed. She must be waiting in my room. I guess I was in for a real talking to.
Shoulders slumping, I dragged my ass down to my room. The door was almost closed which
depressed me even more. It probably meant I was supposed to close it after I went
in and that could only mean I was going to get yelled at. I pushed it enough to peek
in, as if afraid to disturb the potential occupant, despite the fact that it was my
own room.

My heart beat faster when I saw Mom sitting on the bed with her back towards me. I
had expected her to be facing the door, ready to let me have it as soon as I came
in. I pushed the door open enough to slip through and pushed it closed as quietly
as I could. The click was deafening in my ears but Mom didn't even twitch. She sat
absolutely still as if the door hadn't made a sound and I wasn't even there.

For a full minute neither of us moved. What was she waiting for?

Then, as if reacting to an internal signal, Mom raised her arms and unhooked the dress
at the back of her neck. To say I was stunned would be an understatement.

Enthralled, I watched the zipper slide downward, the dress parting to expose the unblemished
skin of Mom's back. The descent completed, her hands pulled away and rose to her shoulders
where they paused, then hesitantly pushed the dress off and onto each arm in turn,
carefully leaving the straps for the slip in place. Mom's hands returned to her lap
and she waited again. It was my turn to move.

I had been in absolute dread all the way up the stairs, fearing I don't know what,
and now this? I could hardly believe my eyes.

I didn't rush to the bed. Instead, I hung back, partly because I wasn't sure this
was really happening and partly because I wanted to savor the picture of Mom sitting
on my bed with her dress open to her waist. She was still covered by the slip but
the way its silky material clung to Mom's curves made her look sexier than if she
had been naked, helped, of course, by thoughts of slipping my hands inside the dress
to grasp her gorgeous hangers.

Finally, I moved toward Mom, my cock hardening faster than my approach to the bed.
I knelt upon the mattress carefully, easing my weight down, afraid that a sudden move
would jolt me of this dream and back to reality. I paused, my hands hovering, then
tentatively lowered them onto Mom's shoulders. My fingers slid outward onto her upper
arms and down to her elbows. There I paused and gently squeezed Mom's arms. She tilted
her head forward and down to the left, assuming her signature permissive posture.


Looking over Mom's shoulders, I noticed that her hands were resting on her thighs,
gripping her dress. I pulled her elbows back and the dress dragged up Mom's legs.
She didn't appear to notice this and when I released her elbows, her hands returned
to grasp the dress lower down at the hem. I pulled her elbows back again and the dress
dragged farther up Mom's legs, this time stopping near her hips. I released her arms
and Mom's hands returned to rest at the same spot but now upon legs covered only by
the nylon material of her pantyhose.

I don't know why but I hadn't even thought about Mom's legs and now, looking at them,
I realized that I had missed a lot. Mom was waiting, I knew, for me to slide my hands
onto her breasts but instead I reached down to cover the hands on her thighs with
mine. Slowly, I pulled her legs apart. As if becoming aware for the first time of
the state of her dress, Mom tried to close her legs and to pull her hands back in
an attempt to retrieve to pull her dress down.

I kept Mom's hands in place and pulled her legs apart again. She started to lift her
head but I used my left hand to stop her and she relaxed. Strangely, she didn't try
to pull the dress down with her freed left hand. I lowered mine and pulled her dress
up higher until I could see the panties under the pantyhose. I pulled Mom tight against
my body and got a better view as I leaned back.

My hard cock pressed into Mom's back as my left hand snaked inside the front of her
slip and grasped her right tit, squeezed and then slid off until her nipple was pinched
between my thumb and forefinger. It was already swollen and quite stiff.

I brought my right hand into play to caress Mom's left tit, then massaged both breasts.
Occasionally teasing her nipples, I kept an eye on Mom's panties under the hose and
whenever she closed her legs I reached down to spread them apart again. We both knew
I wasn't staring at her panties but at the pussy underneath and I think that knowledge
excited her as much as me.

Mom didn't even protest when I released her left breast to use my right hand to unbutton
my pants and lower my zipper. I pressed my cock, now covered only by my underwear,
against her back. Her legs closed but I spread them again and recaptured her left
tit, then began rubbing my cock on her spine in long, scraping thrusts.

Eventually, I pulled Mom back and laid her down on the bed. Her eyes were tightly
closed and I arranged her hair to cover her face before lowering my mouth to take
possession of her left nipple.

I guess I had done this some eighteen years before but the act didn't raise any memories—the
poke of Mom's nipple into my mouth was an exquisite first time experience. I sucked
it gently at first but soon got carried away. I didn't bite but I clamped down hard
and kind of chewed, drawing it in and pushing it out with stiffened lips. What a thrill
when Mom arched her back to push her nipple back into my mouth. I rolled it around
with my tongue, flicked it, and used my hand to feed more of her tit inside my mouth,
opening wide to accommodate its bulk.

My mouth moved from tit to tit and I always fondled the other and flicked its nipple
to keep it ready for sucking while working on the other. I couldn't remember doing
it but at some point I had crawled half on top of Mom. I also didn't remember pulling
her legs onto the bed but somehow they were there and suddenly I was lying between
them, my genitals pressed hard against hers. The sensation of my shaft pressing on
her mound, however thickly covered, overpowered the taste of her tits and I lifted
my head to drop it beside hers, turning my mouth into her neck, and started dry-humping
my mother.

Surprisingly, Mom didn't heave me off in shocked anger. I slid my hands under and
grasped her shoulders to keep her close but there was no need because her hips were
bucking against me as urgently as I was grinding down upon her and we were both panting
heavily.

It was over as quickly as it had started. I flooded my pants and Mom trembled beneath
me, tensing along the entire length of her body while her hands gripped my arms until
the trembling became a vibration. I looked down upon Mom's face which was straining
with teeth bared under a curled lip and crinkled nose and surrounded by strands of
sweat dampened hair. Gradually, her face relaxed and was overtaken by a calmer countenance
and teeth disappeared behind pursed, pouty lips that released a long, satisfied sigh.
Her eyes remained closed.

I realized it must be uncomfortable to bear my weight but was reluctant to get up
because it would force us to confront each other. The point became moot when Mom twitched
beneath me and then again when I remained still. I was going to lift my weight but
instead started rubbing. Two minutes later Mom's hips were again bucking frantically
beneath me and then her whole body shuddered violently.

This time, when she was still, I slid off and sat up, then fixed my pants. Behind
me, Mom also sat up, stood, and zipped up her dress as she walked around the bed.
She stopped in front of me and smoothed the dress over her hips and thighs, tossed
her head to shake out her hair, and walked to the door. She listened for a few seconds,
then opened the door a couple of inches. She seemed about to turn back, maybe to say
something, but then pulled the door wide open and walked down the hallway to her room.
I watched her all the way.

Mom looked incredibly sexy walking down the hall. She seemed satisfied and carefree.
At her bedroom door she paused with one foot raised in midstep. My breath caught as
I waited for her to look back and smile, but she didn't. Her foot fell to the floor
and she slipped out of sight leaving me with only the warm stickiness spreading through
my lap for a memory. Gordie was still putting the dishes away. Mom could have stayed
longer.

What was she going to say? That we had gone too far? That she hadn't meant to let
things go so far? Or was she going to put a stop to it and then changed her mind?
I couldln't figure her out. One minute I was scared Mom was going to stop and the
next I was really excited that she wasn't. I hoped the pause at the door meant the
latter.

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

Gordie refused to clean his room. After what had happened and the way Mom had left
my room the night before, I needed him to honor our deal. Appealing to his reason
was futile and to his honor, humorous. Even his greed was unassailable.

Finally, in desperation, I said, "I'll arm wrestle you for it."

Gordie stared at me, open-mouthed, then burst out laughing.

"Yeah, right!"

"I mean it."

I got down on his floor and crooked my arm.

"You're serious?"

"You chicken?" I taunted.

Gordie got down on the floor and stretched his arm out. I gripped his hand and immediately
launched my attack. His hand banged the carpet.

"No way! I wasn't ready."

We made it two out of three, then three out of five. Gordie was too embarrassed to
make it four out of seven.

"Okay, okay. You're lucky I'm not feeling well."

"Do your room tonight."

"Tomorrow."

"You want to go again?"

Gordie rubbed his arm and shook his head.

"Tonight," I repeated.

The next morning, Mom commented on Gordie's room.

"I just felt like cleaning it up," he said.

When we were leaving for school, Mom held me back at the door while Dad and Gordie
walked to the car.

"Was that your doing?" she asked.

"What?"

"Gordie's room."

I denied it as unconvincingly as I could manage. Mom smiled and leaned up to kiss
my cheek.

"Have a good day at school, Stan."

I thought about what she said all the way to school. Mom had called me Stan.

It was an agonizingly long haul until the following Tuesday. As soon as dinner was
finished I went to my room. Mom arrived five minutes later and went straight to the
other side of the bed. This time, after she sat down, she waited but didn't lower
her head or turn it to the side, nor did she unzip her dress.

I knelt on the bed behind her but didn't unzip her dress. I was sure I could do it
if I wanted to but I felt like waiting. After a minute or so I reached around Mom's
shoulders and started to pull the dress up her legs but she stopped me. I was surprised
but didn't protest; I just pulled my hands away. I had hoped, after seeing Gordie's
room cleaned and recognizing that it had been done on my initiative, Mom would allow
me this treat. I had imagined it vividly all weekend.

The bitter taste of disappointment was sinking through my chest when Mom began to
pull the dress up her legs herself. A lump threatened to fill my throat as I watched
her hands move slowly but steadily, lifting the dress until it was near her hips.
I stared at her legs. Then, as slowly as she had raised the dress, Mom spread her
legs. The pantyhose stretched between her thighs and the pout of her panties appeared
underneath.

My cock throbbed inside my pants and I unzipped them to relieve the pressure, not
thinking about the sound, but Mom simply leaned backward. I pressed into her back
and the puffy panties nudged forward. I pressed again and Mom turned her head to rest
her cheek against my shoulder. I covered her chest with my hands and she opened her
legs wider. I pushed into her back, thrilled to see her panties surge forward again,
then unzipped the back of her dress. The warmth of Mom's skin welcomed my underwear
and seared the tip of my cock which was poking above the waistband.

I pushed Mom's dress off her shoulders and reached down to grab her tits, massaging
them roughly. Mom moaned softly and I rubbed my cock less gently against her back,
loving the way the underside of my helmet skidded along the bumps of her spine. I
leaned over to kiss the top of her head and tried to reach the crook of her neck which
was difficult while trying to keep my cock pressed against her back. I nibbled and
munched on the tender nape of Mom's neck. She seemed to like that.

My hand slid down from Mom's right tit and slowly moved toward the juncture between
her legs. I sensed that Mom was aware of it even though her eyes were closed but she
didn't stop me. I hoped she would let me hold it like before as long as I didn't move
my hand, or rub or squeeze, even though this time it wouldn't be an accident.

My hand cupped the pantyhose over Mom's panties and pressed in to close the gap that
had stretched between them when her legs had spread wide open. The panties bulged
into my palm, imparting a welcoming warmth. I pressed my cock harder against Mom's
back, sliding lower to push into the small of her back so her panties would lodge
more firmly into my hand, and was elated when Mom didn't protest.

A dozen shoves later I squeezed my fingers toward my palm and was both surprised and
elated when there was still no protest from Mom. I squeezed again and again and all
Mom did was moan each time. After a quick series of short, light rubs I applied several
longer, higher pressure strokes and Mom thrust her pussy harder against my hand. Oh,
my fucking God.

I pulled my hand up and tried to slide it under the pantyhose to get right on her
panties so I could relish their moist heat directly but Mom grabbed my hand and pulled
it away. It was the first sign of resistance she had offered.

Well, okay, so this was the new boundary. I remained outside the panties but rubbed
and rubbed until Mom seemed distracted and then tried again only to have my hand quickly
returned to its proper place. So I contented myself with rubbing Mom's panties from
outside the hose while her thighs writhed as I humped her back to push her pussy more
firmly onto my hand.

Then something happened that changed everything.

My middle finger poked through a small hole in the hose and plunged into the moistness
of Mom's soaking wet panties. I recovered after a shocked second or two and scratched
my fingertip through the length of the groove buried in her slit. Mom's hips bucked
involuntarily, burying my finger deeper into her panties, then lurched back. Scared,
I yanked my finger back but it caught in the hole and a series of frantic jerks tore
the hose which then spread wide open, baring Mom's panties and her upper thighs.

Mom and I both sat frozen, staring at the throbbing mound that surrounded a slit clearly
delineated by a damp trench running through her panties. My right hand moved back
toward it and we both watched, mesmerized, to see what this apparently independent
entity would do. It paused, hovering over the trembling panties as if awaiting permission,
then dropped onto the mound anyway when it wasn't forhcoming. We both moaned.

"I love you," I gasped.

Mom's legs crossed over my hand and squeezed, opened and thrust against my palm, closed
and squeezed, then opened again. Her hands moved onto mine but didn't try to pull
it away.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," she sighed, pushing up and also pressing down on my hand.

My finger found her groove and tickled it, then plowed its depths as far as the panties
would allow. I tried to slip my left hand inside Mom's panties but she moved hers
up to stop me. It tried to join its brother on the outside but there was no room between
her legs so its thumb scratched at a smaller bump above. Mom reacted violently and
began thrusting more vigorously. I had accidentally discovered a crucial part of a
woman's anatomy.

Mom jerked and writhed on my hand until her body shuddered like it had the previous
Thursday but this time emitted many restrained moans and groans. When she was done,
I turned around and sat on the bed with my back towards her. I thought it best to
not force acknowledgement of what we had just done but I had alson not come and knew
it was too late to rub my cock to satisfaction between Mom's legs. Turning away from
her at least removed temptation from my sight.

I was trying to push my cock inside my shorts when Mom stirred behind me. Distracted,
I caught myself painfully in my zipper just as Mom's hand touched my shoulder. I turned
to look at her, my inquisitive look distorted with a pain only a man can know.

Mom was lying on her back, the dress still pushed up to her hips with the top falling
away from her breasts. Her chest was still heaving which made her breasts expand and
relax, pulling the skin tight around her nipples and then softening in a beautiful,
natural rhythm. My gaze moved lower to the panties still exposed through the ripped
hose. Mom's hand dropped from my shoulder onto my lap and her fingers toyed with my
pants and zipper.

I held the waistband to make it easier to pull the zipper down, which Mom did. Twisting
around, I pushed my pants down to my knees. Mom opened her legs and I slipped between
them. Immediately, she lifted her knees curled her arms around my neck. The warmth
of our crotches melded and we both received a big shock. In my hurry I had unknowningly
pushed my underwear down along with my pants and my bare cock now pressed against
Mom's panties with the tip contacting the bare skin above.

Once more we froze, face to face, only inches apart, unable to hide our ragged breath.
Tentatively, I rubbed. Mom remained absolutely still, offering no encouragement, but
I rubbed again and, a few seconds later, yet again. Her hips responded, only slightly,
but enough that I rubbed more confidently. I couldn't decide which felt better, the
press of her puffy panties on my balls and the lower part of my shaft or the tickle
of her bare belly above. I rubbed faster and faster, then put my weight into it until
I was dry humping my mother, the most incredible feeling I had ever experienced. It
felt like I was actually fucking her.

The bed began to creak from my exuberance so I pulled up and away but Mom lifted herself
off the bed, chasing my bulge. She wrapped her legs around mine and pulled until her
panties again embraced my cock. I lost control then but Mom clung to my bucking hips
until I spewed all over her warm, sweaty belly. She bit my ear and whispered, "It's
okay, it's okay."

We slumped onto the bed but Mom kept her legs wrapped around me. Eventually, when
our breathing returned to normal, they relaxed and fell away but I remained pressed
against her panties between her wide open legs. Eventually, I sat up and fixed my
pants while Mom zipped her dress and smoothed it over her hips and thighs. This time,
she didn't just walk away, she stepped close to me and whispered.

"Will Gordon be doing the dishes on Thursday?"

"Yes."

Without responding, she turned to grasp the door handle, leaned close to listen, then
opened the door and slipped out of the room. I watched the sway of her hips, in awe
that she could walk so normally, knowing that under the dress her pantyhose was torn
and my cum was splattered all over her belly.

Love and lust surged within me, each heightened by the knowledge that both were reciprocated.
Mom might have convinced herself she was doing this to help me become a man but, whether
she knew it or not, she had revealed a need as desperate as my own.

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

"Go ahead, try it on," David said, holding out his belt.

"I've already put my stuff away," I answered sheepishly.

David had seen me admiring his black belt, staring at it as I daydreamed about how
the Johnson crowd might leave me alone when I earned one of my own.

"Here," David said, draping the belt across my bag. "Take it home and try it on. It
will motivate you to do your best."

"No, I can't," I replied, picking it up and handing it back to him but he had already
turned away to leave.

"Bring it back Wednesday," he said as he walked out the door.

After he was gone, I looked at the black belt draped over my open hands. I almost
got my robe out of my bag to try it on right then and there but stuffed it into my
bag upon hearing some other guys approaching the change room. I left right after they
came in.

I took the short cut across the upper field behind the school on the way home. I knew
it was risky but didn't feel like walking all the way around. I was more than half
way across when they came out of the trees near their lunch time smoking haunt. It
was too late to change course to avoid two of the smaller Johnsonites that were the
worst for pick on me.

"Look what we have here, a big fat fucking wiener."

I veered a few degrees to the left and quickened my pace, hoping to escape though
I knew it was futile.

"Look how fast the fucking wiener can walk."

"Yeah, I bet he can run too, can't you, ya big fucking dork."

"That right?" the other one asked. "Can you fucking run, dorkface?"

Normally, I would have. They had caught me crossing the field before and got a kick
out of making me run but for some reason I just hunkered down and kept walking. That
pissed them off and they closed in behind me.

"Run, ya fucking dork."

I resisted the urge to walk faster and braced myself for a kick in the ass.

"I said run, fuckface!"

A kick, surely intended for my butt, smashed into my gym bag and knocked it around
until my knees banged into it. Anger coursed through my veins. I whirled around and
dropped the bag, instinctively taking up the Judo stance I had been practising for
the past few weeks.

"Watch out Darrel. It's the Karate Dork!"

They laughed derisively and closed in on me.

"You're gonna get a lesson now ya big fuckin dork."

As Darrel approached me from the front the other one, Gary I think his name was, closed
in from my side. I knew he would be the one to punch or kick me when Darrel fainted.


"What's this?" he asked, looking at my gym bag. "Looks like dorkface is going to the
gym."

Darrel looked at my bag but I kept my eyes on Gary, thinking he'd paste me as soon
as I looked away, but he looked at the bag too. A strange expression flashed over
his face but disappeared quickly—hidden but not gone. It was a look I knew well: fear.
He stepped back and his arms dropped to his side.

"Okay, we're gonna give you a pass because we don't feel like kicking your sorry ass
today but don't let us catch you crossing here again."

Derek had also backed off. I picked up my bag and, euphoria kicking in from not getting
a beating, and said, "Yeah right."

Surprised by my churlish response, Gary was about to re-engage but Darrel called him
off.

"Let it go, Gary." He was already walking away.

I walked away too but this time I wasn't trying to hold myself back. I swaggered off
the field. I had scared them off, or more accurately, the sight of David's black belt
had scared them away. I felt good. No, I felt great. When I passed by a clump of kids
that had seen the whole thing I kept my head up and looked them straight in the eye.
They looked away. Yeah, I felt great.

The story came out at supper the next night.

"I hear you put the run on Darrel and Gary yesterday," Gordie said.

Mom and Dad looked at me but I only shrugged. Mom sought an explanation from Gordie.
"What happened?" she asked.

"Stan scared the hell out of them. It was all over school today."

"Is that right, Stanley?"

"Yeah, I guess so. It was no big deal."

"Did you get into a fight?

"No."

"He scared them off with a black belt hanging out of his Judo bag," Gordie said. "Everyone
thinks he's a Kung Fu master or something now." He laughed, then added. "Better hope
they don't find out the truth."

"They're not so tough," I said.

"No, but the Johnsons are and you put the run on a couple of their boys. They're not
happy about it."

"You'll have to look after your brother, Gordie," Dad said.

"I can look after myself," I retorted.

Dad nodded dismissively and Gordie automatically nodded back but then added, maybe
because of his arm wrestling losses, "Stan can handle himself, Dad."

Mom had returned to her meal and was eating studiously. She seemed upset. What the
hell? I thought this was what she wanted me to do. To make things worse, she didn't
come to my room after dinner while Gordie was doing the dishes. I was hoping for a
reward for standing up for myself.

On Thursday, Gordie warned me about a possible confrontation with the Johnsons. The
encounter with Darrel and Gary had been whipped into a big thing and the rumor was
the Johnsons felt compelled to do something about it. Evidently Darrel and Gary didn't
like being made out to be chickenshits and were also talking it up about kicking my
ass but the word was they weren't in any hurry to do anything on their own. That meant
the Johnsons had to do something. For some stupid reason, Gordie mentioned it at dinner
that night.

"Well, stand your ground Stan," Dad said. "Your brother will back you up if need be."


"Oh, shut up," John.

We all looked at Mom. She was very upset.

"It'll be okay, Mom," I assured her. "Me and Gordie can take them."

"Yeah," Gordie chimed in but I could tell he wasn't relishing it. This was a confrontation
he and his friends had been avoiding for years. "Bud and Rob will help too."

"You don't need an army," Dad chipped in. "Man to man, that's the way to did it. Just
the Coopers and the Johnsons. Been done before and there ain't no Johnson can beat
a Cooper, any day."

"John!"

"Just saying," Dad sat back in his chair, holding his hands up.

I had forgot that Dad knew the Johnson's father. They had been rivals in school.

"We'll handle it ourselves, Dad," I said. "Right, Gordie?"

"Yeah, right Stan."

Mom pushed her chair back and got up. She left the dining room and went upstairs.
After she had gone, Dad said, "Best not talk about this anymore, boys."

It was Thursday so Gordie had to do the dishes by himself. I had second thoughts about
our deal. It was supposed to make me look stronger and win Mom's favors but standing
up for myself for real seemed to have had the opposite effect. I offered to help with
the dishes but Gordie declined, saying, "A deal's a deal."

So I went upstairs figuring if Mom was that upset it might calm her down if I said
I would back down from the Johnsons. Her door was shut.

I knocked lightly and called softly, "Mom?" but there was no answer.

Maybe it would be better to talk to her later. I went to my own room and sat at my
desk. A game was ready to play but I stared vacantly at the screen, worrying about
what would happen with Mom. If I couldn't figure out what she wanted me to do I might
have to do without even though it was plain she like what we were doing as much as
I did.

Mom was inside my room before I could turn to answer the knock. She was already past
the end of the bed and starting to sit down when I turned around, first the wrong
way to look at the door, and then swiveling around to face the bed.

I could hardly believe my eyes. Mom had sat on the far side of the bed, as usual.
I waited for her head to turn to the left and tilt down in her permissive signature
but she just stared at the wall. I waited, and waited. She didn't tilt her head, nor
did she loosen her dress. She just sat there. I waited some more, trying to raise
the courage to go to her but I was afraid of being rejected.

Mom raised her right hand to her face and dabbed it with a tissue, then returned it
to her lap. She was crying. I went to the bed then and kneeled behind her ready to
assure her that I wouldn't fight the Johnsons.

"Mom?"

She waved me off with a flick of her right arm and a shrug of her shoulder but I persisted,
putting my hands on her shoulders for comfort. At that moment, that's all I wanted
to do.

"It'll be okay. Everything's been blown way out of proportion. Don't worry, nothing
will happen."

Mom sniffled and waved her hand.

"I won't push it," I comforted her. "Nobody's going to get hurt."

We sat like that for a couple of minutes.

Mom sniffed and said, "No, I know you have to do it, Stan. I just wish you didn't
have to, that's all."

That was a surprise. Now I was supposed to fight again. I switched gears.

"Like you said. If I stand up for myself, once it's over, they'll leave me alone—one
way or the other."

"I did say that, didn't I?"

I didn't answer. Mom sniffed and dabbed her eyes again.

"I'm sorry I pushed you, Stan. I didn't expect everythign to happen so fast."

There was a statement that had multiple levels of meaning. I had to agree.

"Maybe you aren't ready yet."

"I'm ready Mom," I assured her. "It's time."

My hands dropped from Mom's shoulders to her waist. Until then, my thoughts had been
purely platonic but she was feeling more relaxed and the warmth and softness of her
body, together with the fragrance of her hair, were getting to me. I felt a stirring
in my loins.

"I guess I did encourage you, didn't I?"

She meant to fight, to stand up for myself, but I read it as the method she had used
to get me to do what she wanted and considered her question an invitation to touch
her.

"I shouldn't have," she added.

"I wanted you to," I responded, my voice thick and heavy. She knew what I meant.

My hands slid down to Mom's hip and my fingers started grasped the sides of her dress.
Mom took a deep breath and sighed.

"It's my fault things went so far and now it's come to this."

"We're in it together," I said, pulling my hands back and dragging Mom's dress up
her thighs a couple of inches.

She looked down at her legs. "I guess we are, aren't we?"

"Yes," I replied hoarsely, pulling the dress up several inches until it was stuck.


Mom sighed and lifted her weight from the bed one buttock at a time, her right shoulder
rising and catching me under my neck as I leaned over her. The dress pulled out from
under her bottom. She pulled her hands from her lap, dragging the hem of the dress
with them until the tops of her pantyhose were exposed. They were very sheer and the
black panties underneath were plain to see, at least the bit of them I could see before
they disappeared between her closed legs.

"I shouldn't have encouraged you as much as I did."

"Yes, you should have." My breath was ragged, clearly revealing my excitement. "I
wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't, and anyway, it was time for me to grow
up," I said, desperate to keep Mom thinking her special encouragement was crucial
and still needed.

I put my hands on Mom's thighs and pulled. They parted easily.

"I suppose so," Mom muttered, watching me open her legs.

"You made me think like a man," I whispered.

"Did I?"

"Yes," I replied, sounding more like a croak than a word.

The black panties swam into full view as they became more prominent the wider Mom's
legs parted. We both stared at her open crotch. I didn't take hold of her breasts
or unzip her dress. I simply gazed at her open legs and ejoyed the sight of her panties
under the hose. It was like we were watching a strange organism that had a life of
its own. Long seconds passed, maybe even a minute or more, until Mom's soft voice
pierced the silence.

"Do you need to touch it?" Mom asked.

"Yessss."

"Okay." It was barely a murmur.

Slowly, I slid my right hand between Mom's legs until it cupped her hosed and pantied
pussy. Her head drew back and fell to the left. I moved my hand up to support it and
wrapped my fingers gently around her throat. I couldn't see but I knew she had finally
closed her eyes. I squeezed her mound and massaged rather than rubbed her pussy. Mom
made a quiet sound, not a moan, but more like a purr. I rubbed, and rubbed.

We sat like that for some time with me hanging awkwardly over Mom's right shoulder,
arm reaching around her waist to rub between her legs. Mom didn't react to my touch
other than leaning back and occasionally repeating that purring sound but after about
five minutes her pelvis started to move in time with my squeezes. That's when I centered
my long finger over the faint groove I could feel through the hose and started scratching
along its length.

Soon, I discovered the beginning of a hole. I didn't know if my scratching had made
it or if it had already been there. It would have been strange for another pair of
Mom's pantyhose to have a hole in the same spot but I hadn't been pressing hard and
my finger hadn't caught in anything. Could she have started it herself?

I pushed the tip of my finger in the little hole and began worrying it, hoping it
would tear open like the other pair had done but, though more sheer, this pair was
stronger. That excited me because I was sure it meant Mom had indeed started the hole.
I squirreled my finger round and round but the hose didn't rip apart. The hole did
grow larger though and my finger soon slipped easily through and started to rub Mom's
panties which had become very damp.

Mom was almost limp, sagging over my left arm. She was purring more often and her
hips moved constantly against my finger which was now embedded full time in the groove
lining her panties. I leaned back, easing her back on the bed. Her legs lifted as
she fell back, providing me with wide open access to massage her panties through the
penetrated hose.

Mom was lying with her head turned to the side away from me, eyes closed. I undid
my belt and slipped my zipper down as quietly as I could, finding it quite awkward
to do with my left hand. It was even more difficult to push my pants down without
Mom knowing what I was doing but then I realized that of course she knew what I was
doing. Still, I tried not to be obvious.

I arranged myself between Mom's legs and her knees widened to accommodate me. I tried
to pull her pantyhose down while keeping my right engaged but Mom's hands slid down
to stop me. Ah, well. I shifted on top of her and replaced my hand with my cock and
balls, immediately wishing I had pushed my shorts right off. Maybe she wouldn't have
stopped me this time. After all, we seemed to progress a little further every time
which was maybe why she usually stayed away for days.

I started dry humping Mom and like before she soon became an active partner. I didn't
have a tit to suck and wished I had taken her dress off before pulling her back onto
the bed but rubbed her breasts through the dress and tried without success to unzip
it.

Mom really started getting into it and I wished again that I had pushed my shorts
all the way down to bare my cock. Well, why not? I dropped my hands down to my shorts
and Mom gasped when my weight slumped fully onto her chest. I think she was so relieved
when I lifted myself off her that she didn't realize I had shoved my shorts down and
it was now my bare cock that was rubbing on her pantyhose. These sheer ones were more
slippery than the others and felt great, especially with a hot, spongy pussy underneath
scraping along the underside of my cock.

I reached underneath with my right hand and grabbed my cock so I could keep it right
in the center of her pussy because it seemed that Mom responded better when it slid
along her groove. I had been doing that for fifteen or twenty long rubs when all of
a sudden I was stopped in mid-stroke. I pushed against heavy resistance, then again
and again, before popping through something.

Mom had reacted almost in panic to my missed strokes. Her arms encircled my waist,
pulling me back on track. She was quite unaware, as was I until I looked, that my
cock had breached the hole in her pantyhose and was now sliding over her groove directly
on Mom's wet panties.

Mom became very rambunctious, especially when my cock levered too low and the head
mashed into her panties before skidding through her wet groove. Soon, I learned to
direct it into that part of her panties every time so it burst on the bottom of her
pussy with a thud before scraping through the groove. Mom's purring turned into a
soft, constant moan.

I found the zipper underneath Mom's dress and yanked it down, breaking the hook that
kept it together behind her neck. Frantically, I dragged the dress off her shoulders
and tore the slip apart to bare Mom's tits. I grabbed one in each hand and squeezed,
mashing them agains her chest.

Mom pulled her legs way back and hooked her feet behind me, using her heels to thrust
herself harder against my cock. I squeezed her tits hard, forcing her nipples to stand
up, then dropped my mouth onto the right one and sucked hard. We writhed against each
other furiously, grinding and sucking, gasping and moaning, until we both came. As
Mom clasped me tight, I spewed my cum all over her panties and belly.

It was a long time before we recovered enough to breathe normally and we stayed together
for some time after that, neither speaking, but both reluctant to part. Finally, Mom
indicated with a twist and small push that she wanted to leave. She got up, walked
around the bed, and started toward the door with her dress still unzipped. I caught
her and zipped it up, trying to hook it at the top before realizing that I had broken
it. Before she could leave I hugged her from behind, buried my face in the crook of
her neck and told her I loved her.

She raised a hand to pat my head and said, "Be careful tomorrow."

"I will," I said, then added, "I'll probably lose," and immediately regretted saying
it.

Mom spun around in my arms and looked up at me. "I'll be here for you." She lifted
herself onto her tippy toes and kissed me lightly on the mouth, then turned to listen
at the door, opened it and exited the room.

I was on cloud nine. All I had to do was face the Johnsons. My biggest fear wasn't
getting my ass kicked, it was Mom not being there to help me and now she said she
would be.

But what if I won? Would there me any reason for more 'encouragement' if I won?

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

The next week the Johnsons didn't do anything. Teachers were on the alert at school,
having got wind of the pending fight, so maybe they were lying low. Gordie did the
dishes on Tuesday and Thursday though our deal was finished so I paid him another
fifty. He even cleaned his room. I guess he wanted to be sure of my support. I felt
good, thinking that Gordie thought I could contribute something.

The only problem with the Johnsons not doing anything was that Mom wasn't doing anything
either. I was seriously considering asking Gordie and his buddies to push things but
knew they would rather avoid a confrontation if they could. I couldn't think of a
way to start things on my own, at least, not with them around to help me.

At breakfast on Saturday, he asked if I wanted to help him and Dad with the GTO.

"Stan is going driving with me," Mom interjected.

"Driving?" Dad said, looking at Mom. "Where?"

"He wants to learn how," Mom replied.

"Really? Well, I can take him on Sunday if he likes."

"No," Mom said. "He wants to borrow the station wagon sometimes so he may as well
learn on it."

"He can use the truck," Dad said.

"The wagon's fine, Dad. But thanks."

"Suit yourself, son."

After breakfast, I followed Mom to her car and got in. The whole driving thing was
news to me. Mom was wearing a light blue and white checked summer dress with a wide
and loose skirt which wasn't quite warm enough for early spring which probably explained
the loosely knit white cardigan sweather she was wearing over the dress and the white
leotards underneath.

Before Mom got in the car she removed the sweater and that simple act provided another
explanation for its use. The top of the dress was a wrap style with one lapel overlapping
the other. It emphasized the shape of her breasts, especially the hanging quality
I loved, and occasionally tossed hints of what was covered when the lapels gapped
as she moved. It looked like something that held the lapels together was missing or
broken.

As Mom backed out of the driveway, I said, "I don't have a permit, Mom."

"Doesn't matter. We're going to an old back road in the country. There won't be anyone
there."

We drove west of town, turning onto progressively smaller roads until we were driving
slowly along a rural farm road. Mom had turned the radio up so we listened to music
instead of talking. I admired what I could see of Mom's legs which was only about
a foot above her ankles. Still, they had a nice shape that the white leotards didn't
hide. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen Mom without pantyhose and wondered
if she had run out of pantyhose, at least, ones that weren't ripped. I also wondered
if there was a little hole in an appropriate spot in the white leotards. I wished
we had stayed home and she had come up to my room while Gordie and Dad worked on the
car. Now that would have been fun.

Mom turned onto an access road to a field. She got out and opened the gate then drove
through it and stopped, got out again to pull the barbed wire gate closed, and hooked
the loop attached to the post over it to hold it in place. I felt kind of useless
and wondered why she hadn't asked me to open the gate. Back in the car, we continued
on our way which surprised me. Now that we were on private land, I thought she would
want me to drive.

Mom drove through the field and into the trees on the other side. The rode wound its
way up through a small, wooded hill, presumably toward another field or a farmhouse.
We topped the crest and then Mom turned the car around and pulled off the road and
stopped. We were facing the trees but behind us there was a nice view of the next
field a few hundred feet below. It seemed odd that she hadn't pulled off when we were
facing the other way so we could look at the view without craning our necks around
to look out the back window.

Mom turned off the engine. I was about to get out, thinking she wanted to switch places
now, when she spoke.

"Nothing happened at school this week?"

"No. We were ready but they didn't do anything."

"They're waiting to pick the time and place."

"Yeah, I know. The teachers think there's something up so they're lying low."

"You need to take it to them."

"Take it to them?"

"Yes. Don't let them pick when or where. If you catch them off guard, it will rattle
them and give you an advantage."

That made sense.

"Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Will you?"

"I'll talk to Gordie about it."

"You don't need to talk to Gordie."

"No, I guess I don't."

"Good."

"Do you want me to drive now?"

"Drive?"

"Yeah, that's what we're here for, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course," Mom said, but I knew she had been caught off guard by my question.


She opened her door and got out. I did the same and we met behind the car.

"Look at that view," Mom exclaimed. "Isn't it beautiful?"

I turned to look. It was just a field with a couple of cows on it. "Yeah, I guess
so."

"I made us a lunch. Why don't we enjoy the view while we eat."

Mom turned the key in lock and the rear window slid down. Then she opened and lowered
the wagon's gate. It was early for lunch given we had finished breakfast not much
more than an hour ago but what the hey, I could always eat.

Mom reached inside and dragged a picnic basket onto the gate which I opened while
she crawled into the back of the wagon to get something else. I sat on the gate and
got a sandwich out and a bottle of orange juice while Mom fussed with something behind
me. It was a great sandwich, a BLT, one of my favorites.

"This is awesome, Mom," I mumbled through a mouthful of food. I tilted the orange
juice up and was taking a swig as I turned to look back at Mom. I almost spit it out
and didn't start what I was about to say. In fact, I couldn't remember what it was
I was going to say.

She was lowering the back seat, lying on her side as she stretched out to push it
flat. The effort caused the muscles in her legs to tense, nicely defining their shape
up to her knees since the skirt had ridden up her calves. There just wasn't any part
of Mom that wasn't nice to look at.

As soon as the rear seat was down, Mom started spreading out a thick comforter and
placed two pillows against back of the front seat. From their position, I surmised
she intended to lean against them while she enjoyed the view, which explained why
she had turned the car around. But why not sit on the tailgate? It wasn't that cold,
especially in the warmth of the sunshine.

Mom finished spreading the comforter and then stretched out on her stomach. She pulled
a pillow away from the back of the front seat and laid her head on it. I had thought
she was going to look at the view and here she was taking a nap. That was okay with
me because rather than looking at the view, she was providing one, for me.

The hem of Mom's dress stretched across the back of her knees though it fell halfway
down her calves when she was standing. Her sandals were neatly placed in the back
corner on the driver's side and I noted that the bottoms of her stocking feet her
pure white. The leotards must be brand new.

I suddenly lost my appetite, at least for food. I looked at my sandwich which was
about two thirds gone, then looked at the bush and was about to throw it away but
stopped because Mom wouldn't want me to waste food. I looked back at Mom in the back
of the wagon and followed her legs to the rise of her behind and then to the chestnut
brown hair that covered part of her face. Was she napping or waiting, like she did
when she came into my room and sat on the bed?

I took a small bite of my sandwich and chewed it carefully, grinding the bacon into
tiny bits to suck out every ounce of flavor. I took a swig of juice, put the bottle
down, then reached back and casually flicked the hem of Mom's skirt up a couple more
inches. Another bite was chewed as slowly as the first while I stared at Mom's legs.
They really were very nice. I glanced at the rise of her buttocks and then looked
higher. Was that a smile? It was so faint I couldn't be sure, especially with hair
scattered across her face.

I picked up the orange juice, drained the bottle, and placed it carefully in the back
corner beside Mom's sandals. I was sure Mom smiled then. I stuffed the last of the
sandwich into my mouth and chewed it slowly while I looked around. It was a nice day
for early spring, especially with the sun shining in the back of the wagon and casting
a bright light that reached almost up to Mom's butt. I pushed the hem of the skirt
higher until it matched the border between light and shadow.

I had to look twice to distinghish that border from the line dividing Mom's bare skin
from the white leotards, which weren't leotards at all. Mom was wearing white stockings
that ended just over halfway up her thighs. Between there and the hem of the dress,
there was thick slice of bare thigh.

I ran my eyes down Mom's legs. Her calves were nicely rounded and her knees weren't
knobby like mine but tapered up in smooth lines until her thighs thickened just before
disappearing into her skirt. The skin looked tender at that point and I reached out
to confirm that hypothesis but Mom spoke before I could connect.

"There's another sandwich there if you want it."

"Maybe later," I said, surprised by how thick my voice was, revealing an excitement
that was at a higher level than I thought.

Mom definitely smiled then. At least, the hair that covered the side of her face moved.
I pressed my finger onto the tender inside of her left thigh just above the white
stocking and her leg shifted. I moved to the same spot on the right thigh and it shifted
too. Mom's legs were now inches further apart, defining a 'V' that invited inspection
further into the shadows of her dress.

I had touched Mom there before, of course, but only through a hole or rip in her pantyhose,
and now there was obviously only panties to between us. The picture of her open legs
leading to just a thin covering of panty was incredibly exciting. Betraying my thoughts,
my cock stiffened vigorously in my pants.

Feigning calm, I absently moved my left hand to my belt and loosened it as my right
reconnected with Mom's inner thigh. I stroked the inside of her leg from above the
stocking to her knee and back, switched over to the other leg and did the same, fully
expecting Mom's hands to stop me but they stayed flat on the comforter above her elbows
which were tucked in tight to her sides.

I was thrilled Mom hadn't protested the caress on her bare skin but the twitch of
her inner legs worried me that she was nervous about my touch being so close to what
obviously wasn't protected by pantyhose. I had to remember that the only time I had
touched her there was after accidentally pentrating her hose.

My belt now loose, I struggled to unzip my pants. My hardening cock made it difficult
to get the zipper down and I winced as it caught in my shorts. Biting the bullet,
I reluctantly withdrew my right hand from Mom's legs to help unzip my pants, this
time having the forethought to push them down before turning my attention back to
Mom.

I reached forward to brush the hair away from her face to get a better impression
of how she felt about what I was clearly about to do. Regarding her open thighs, I
counseled myself not to do anything stupid to ruin that welcome. Mom had let me caress
her bare skin and if I was smart I wouldn't call attention to it. Gently, I spread
more of Mom's hair onto her face, as if covering her eyes would make what we were
doing more acceptable.

I leaned forward until I was resting on my left elbow and put my right hand back on
Mom's right leg, below the knee. The hair covering Mom's cheek stirred as she breathed
through it. I tickled the back of her knee for a bit and then moved up to mid thigh
level. Once there, I caressed both right and left legs and only moved higher by stretching
my strokes closer to her knees as if I was simply expanding the range of my touch.


When Mom seemed used to my touch, I lifted the hem of the skirt and dropped it onto
her buttocks, hoping she couldn't feel what I was doing. Whether or not she could,
Mom didn't react and I was soon looking at her spread open legs and a narrow strip
of white panties that disappeared between her cheeks.

I had never seen anything like it before. Not in real life anyway. The panties reappeared
beneath Mom's cheeks, the bulbous lips of her pussy barely contained and threatening
to fold around the widening but still narrow strip of white panties that perfectly
matched her stockings. The prominence of the labia as well as the groove between was
plainly evident even under the panties. Being so close to my face, no more than six
inches away, the fragrance emanating from the panties made my head feel light.

Taking a deep breath, I inched the tickling fingertips of my right hand higher. When
they crossed into the hollow part of Mom's thigh near the edge of the panties, the
hair covering Mom's face moved from a sharp inhalation and again from breath expelled
just as quickly. Other than breathing through her hair, Mom gave no sign she was aware
of my fingertips scratching the extremely tender skin on either side of her panties.


I tickled and scratching an inch away from the panties stretched tightly over her
sex and as inobtrusively as I could used my left hand to brush the skirt from the
top of Mom's buttocks onto the small of her back above her waist. Her whole ass was
now bare except for the panties clutched between her cheeks. I marveled at the way
those cheeks clasped and trembled in response to tiny moves of my fingertips now only
fraction of an inch from Mom's panties.

A more pungent odor filled my nostrils and I breathed in deep to savor it. I blew
between Mom's legs as if to push the scent back to its source to prevent it from escaping
and dissipating into the open air. I wanted to keep it bottled up for my own pleasure.
Mom's ass twitched under my hot breath so I blew again, causing a similar reaction.
I blew harder, got down on my chest to get closer and blew again as Mom's quivering
thighs widened even more to accommodate my girth.

I blew and blew and Mom's ass rose up to expose more of the treasure covered by the
tiny panties. I got so close my forehead pressed into Mom's bottom and she surprisingly
cocked it up even more instead of pulling it away. I had been wondering how I could
make the first contact with Mom's panties without startling her into prevention mode
and it now seemed I had unintentionally solved the problem. The first step had been
take but I couldn't get my fingers closer because my head was filling the space between
her legs.

Who says we're controlled by our thoughts? My brain became aware of the next action
only after it had been executed. My tongue pushed out and touched Mom's damp, pungent
panties, poking into the groove I was now too close to see. Her panties thrust onto
my tongue, plunging it deeper into the cleft. I curled the tip up and dragged it along
the groove, straightened and returned it to its original position, and dragged it
up the groove again. The second unplanned step had been taken.

Rather than pulling away as I feared expected, Mom twisted her ass even higher to
expose more of her panties to my exploring tongue. I licked her panties again and
again. Soon, I found I could get my hands under Mom's legs and helped her get her
ass higher so my lips could help my tongue. I lathered her panties with my tongue,
twisted my head to engage her lower lips with mine, and even tried to munch on her
puffiness.

In an effort to get even better access, my hands lifted Mom's legs so high that she
ended up on her knees. I buried my face between her legs and eventually moved my knees
to the side so I could more comfortably lean over to lick her panties. At some point,
I realized that by licking across her panties, my tongue was pushing them to and fro
and the stiff tip was flicking across Mom's bare pussy.

Fully conscious of what I was doing, I pushed my tongue deeper. It slipped easily
inside her slippery lips and delved into her cunt with caused an immediate lurch onto
my slick, wiggling little snake so I shoved it in as far as I could.

I reached around the front of Mom's left leg and then up to cup her panties, stretching
my longest finger along the groove and rubbing its base on the little knob at the
top that I knew she liked having touched. Mom vibrated on my finger and I plunged
my tongue deep into her cunt again and again in time with my stroking finger.

I frigged Mom's clit and rooted around with my tongue while she shuddered and clutched
my hand with her legs. Mewling sounds spilled from the pillow as Mom's legs writhed
around my hand. She was coming.

I pulled my head up and pushed my right hand onto the back of her panties, intending
to rub it for her from both ends but she was moving so much I missed and my fingers
pushed beside the panties, as my tongue had done, and plunged into Mom's cunt.

I was shocked for a second or two but Mom's legs simply closed over my fingers and
her butt shoved back so I pushed the two that had gained entry further in, twisted
them back and forth, then pulled out and shoved them back in. Mom cried out in pleasure
so I fucked her harder with my fingers, jamming them in until the knuckles compressed
her lips, flexing and twisting my fingers before pulling out and jamming them back
in again.

Mom wailed loudly when she came which made me wonder how she had managed to remain
so quiet when she had come in my room. She was much wilder now, however, her hips
tossing her cunt furiously back and forth on my fingers and then just as violently
rubbing her clit forward on my left hand.

A series of jerky hunches marked the end of Mom's orgasm and she became still except
for her heaving chest. I moved in close behind her, my hard cock aching for contact
with her skin, but her thighs snapped shut. I pushed my undershorts down to my knees
and tried to steer my meat between Mom's thighs from behind but her legs were clamped
too tight.

In frustration, I flipped Mom's skirt from her waist to her shoulders and reached
underneath for her tits but her panties caught my eye and I grabbed them instead.
I tried to yank them off but barely got them over Mom's ass before they stuck at the
top of her thighs, refusing to go down any further.

I was staring down at Mom's bare ass, which was a real treat for the eyes, but I was
too desperate to admire it for long. I grabbed my cock and steered it toward her fleshy
globes and pushed until it was lodged between them. Grasping her panties again and
pulling up by each hip, I pushed, angling my cock down until it slipped under Mom's
cheeks and inside the panties. I shoved in hard and my cock skidded, rubbing along
the underside of Mom's pussy as the panties kept it in close until the material in
front prevented further progress. I pulled back and shoved again, pulling up on the
wings of Mom's panties to force my cock against her pussy and groaned as it skidded
through her pulpy, wet lips.

I fucked Mom like this, not actually penetrating her cunt but rubbing my shaft through
her drenched, naked slit. It was like dry humping but felt much, much better. Mom's
elbows were braced against the floor and her hands gripped the comforter hard. Nothing
could stop me now, not even some farmer stopping beside us, and I think Mom sensed
that.

I fucked her hard, grunting my pleasure aloud the way Mom had wailed hers. I knew
that one day Mom might let me fuck her for real and it would be like this. The thought
made me super horny and I lunged all the harder into her, rocking the entire car with
the force of my thrusts, and laughing loudly when the springs started to squeak. I
backed off a little when I noticed Mom's head and shoulders slamming into the pillow
but soon picked up the pace. She hadn't complained, so what the hell.

And then I was coming, spurting my goo inside Mom's panties. It squeezed out onto
her legs and dripped onto her belly and thighs. Mom wailed and pride surged through
me, knowing I had made her come twice. She was throwing her hips around and that made
my cock feel even better, forcing new goo up my shaft.

We stopped, breathing hard, with Mom still on her knees, head hanging down, and me
leaning over her. Gradually, as we caught our breath and Mom's legs stretched out,
I moved back to accommodate her. Eventually, we were stretched out with me lying half
over Mom. The sound of birds and distant mooing filtered into the car and I became
aware of the warmth of the sun on my legs. I knew se should get dressed and go but
it felt so nice, cuddling Mom like this.

I woke with a start. Mom was sitting up beside me and was just finishing cleaning
herself up. There was a bag beside her from which she had extracted a towel and a
tub of baby wipes.

"Here," she said, holding both out to me.

I cleaned myself up as Mom got out of the car and followed her as quickly as I could.
She was standing a few feet away, gazing at the pastoral scene below. I moved close
and put my arms around her. We watched the scene below for another minute or so.

"We should get going."

"Not yet," I said.

We stayed for another minute and then Mom moved away.

"Remember," she said. "Don't let them pick the time or the place."

On the way back to the car I spotted Mom's panties in the tall grass where she must
have tossed them. It bothered me that she had littered but also amused me to wonder
what the farmer would think if he saw them. On the drive back into town I thought
about them again and couldn't keep my eyes off Mom's skirt and the expanse of bare
thigh showing above her stockings. Funny, Mom hadn't shown any leg above the knee
on the way out but now the hem was above almost to her panties, or where they would
have been if she hadn't tossed them away. I couldn't stop thinking about the bare,
swollen pussy hidden just out of sight under the skirt and knew she was aware of exactly
what was on my mind.

That night I wondered what would happen after the fight. Would Mom consider her work
done or would she continue to help me face the world? I had come so close, so very
close. Would she actually let me do it for real?

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

On Monday morning, I convinced Gordie and his pals, Bud and Rob, that we should force
the issue with the Johnsons.

"We should catch them off guard so they won't have their whole team with them."

That made sense so during lunch break, we set off from our corner of the school to
opposite one where the Johnsons usually hung out. Normally, if I tagged along with
Gordie and his pals I had to follow behind but this time neither Bud nor Rob wanted
to be up front. I led the way with Gordie a step behind and his pals lagging several
feet behind him. I couldn't believe they were following me. I felt good despite knowing
what I was getting in to.

There wasn't anyone at the Johnsons corner which was strange. We started back to our
own corner and when we rounded the one between we ran right into them. Evidently,
they had gone in search of us the other way. We were both surprised.

Mike and Jerry Johnson were in the lead with Darrel, Gary and his brother Tom in a
clump behind. Surprise number two: we were pretty evenly matched because several of
the Johnson crowd were missing. Mike and Jerry were each almost as tough as Gordie
but Bud and Rob were more than a match for Darrel, Gary and Tom. The open question
was 'Could I make up for the two-to-one match against Gordie?' If I couldn't come
close we would be in big trouble because Bud and Rob wouldn't take on either Johnson
directly.

Everything happened really fast.

Gordie came abreast of me on the right side to face Mike Johnson, the tougher of the
two brothers. Bud and Rob stopped about five feet behind us while Darrel, Gary and
Tom circled around to the side. Gordie kept his eye on the Johnsons but I watched
Bud and Rob turn to face the others. That's when I saw the missing Johnsonites. Four
of them had been following us along with a crowd of spectators almost as large as
the one following the Johnsons.

There was nobody to counter the four newly arrived Johnsonites. Jerry Johnson faced
me with a surprising measure of respect. I had expected him to take on Bud or Rob
and for me to be either ignored or handled by any of the lesser Johnsonites. I guess
the black belt incident had been taken seriously. I saw doubt in Jerry's eyes and
that shocked me.

Darrel, Gary and Tom looked a bit worried facing Bud and Rob but the lesser Johnsonites
were over-confident as they always were in the presence of the Johnsons. Goofy catcalls
issued from mouths controlled by the childish brains they had brought to a school
fight. Turning back to face Jerry, I thought about Mom. In that instant of clarity
my grown-up mind knew exactly what needed to be done and I acted.

I lunged forward and grabbed Jerry by the right wrist and the neck and whipped him
around a full 360 and then another hundred and eighty, tossing him with great force
into the four Johnsonites behind us. They all collapsed in a heap with one screaming
something about his eye. Bud and Rob stepped toward Darrel, Gary and Tom and the latter
withdrew. I whirled around to face Mike who had already landed a stunning punch on
Gordie but he pulled back when I passed my brother and bore down on him.

I didn't see the fist coming. It slammed into the side of my face and stopped me cold.
Mike lunged at me and I instinctively launched into one of the few Judo moves I had
learned, stepping aside to grab him and using his own momentum to hurl him behind
me, right into his brother who was just getting to his feet. They both went down.


The rear guard Johnsonites were also getting up but they withdrew at the sight of
both Johnsons on the ground. Gary and Tom had already fled and Darrel was nervously
backing away, not relishing taking on either Bud or Rob on his own. Gordie joined
me and we both advanced on the Johnsons.

"Get up!" Gordie yelled at Mike, pissed that he had been suckered and looking for
revenge.

I stood at his side and faced Jerry. The crowd was silent, drenched with anticipation,
as Gordie and Mike faced off. They closed in on one another and the fists flew. It
was a fast and furious exchange with both landing heavy blows. After a minute, both
drew back, panting and bloody. It was a stand off.

I looked at Jerry and adopted the stance I had been minimally trained to do, hoping
it looked threatening. "Go for it!" I demanded.

He shook his head and backed away to stand by his brother. It was over. Within a minute
we drifted apart, neither side making any smart ass remarks that might restart the
fireworks. Even the lesser Johnsonites knew enough to keep their mouths shut.

I didn't know it then but nobody would ever pick on me again.

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

Gordie told Dad about the fight at dinner that night. Dad was ecstatic and Mom, who
would normally be unhappy about such an exchange, seemed pleased. I didn't expect
anything to happen that night but was hepped up for a Tuesday after dinner treat the
next day while Gordie did the dishes by himself.

However, Gordie didn't fill in for me. He rightfully pointed out that the deal was
over and done with. I pleaded with him to do another week and even offered to pay
extra but Gordie wouldn't budge.

"You owe me," I cried.

"The fight was between me and Mike. Why would anyone owe you?"

So there was no after dinner treat for me on Tuesday or on Thursday for that matter.
To make things worse, Mom didn't seem to even be aware of my plight let alone disappointed
about being unable to reward me for my courage. She did offer to wash the dishes in
Gordie's place so he could work on the car with Dad but he declined saying he was
turning over a new leaf and wanted to pull his weight around the house.

"From now on, Mom, I'm going to do my share and I'm gonna keep my room clean too."


"That's great, Gordie. I won't even say 'It's about time'."

"I'm going to do the same," I said, rather lamely, but Mom ignored me.

She gave Gordie a big hug. He left wet hand marks on the back of her blouse, and,
I was pissed to note, on the sides of Mom's gorgeous hangers as well. I gave him a
dirty look but just tossed me a smirking smile. He was up to something for sure.

Sure as hell, Gordie cleaned him room on Friday and even tried to claim fifty bucks
from me, saying I was supposed to pay him for doing it. I faced him down on that one
and he didn't push it which made me even more wary of him.

Saturday morning, Gordie went out to help Dad with the GTO right after breakfast.
I offered to help Mom do the dishes but she declined my help and started while I was
still eating. She was almost finished by the time I was done which didn't give me
much time to watch her.

Mom was aware of my scrutiny but I couldn't tell if she was pleased or angry with
the attention. I was encouraged that she didn't try to conceal or limit the sway of
her breasts, which seemed unconstrained under her blouse and full length apron, but
she did avoid direct eye contact with me.

Mom drained the sink and dried her hands. I had expected her to dry the dishes but
she surprised me by leaving the kitchen without saying anything or even glancing my
way. I started to feel sorry for myself but then thought about the way I handled myself
at the fight. I had acted like a man with a purpose then, not some moaning wimp. I
wasn't about to go backwards.

I went upstairs and walked straight into Mom's room. She looking out her bedroom window
at the garage where Gordie and Dad were working on the GTO. The apron strings were
hanging loose and she was lifting the neck strap over her head. When she tossed the
apron onto her bed the movement under her blouse confirmed that nothing was keeping
her beautiful hangers in check.

Outside, the GTO roared to life and I used the covering noise to walk within several
feet of her. She did not seem to be aware of my presence. I peered over her shoulder
to see what she was looking at so intently. Gordie came out of the garage and looked
up, saw Mom gazing out her bedroom window, and called to her.

"Tell Stan Dad wants him to come with us for the first test drive."

I guess he couldn't see me standing behind Mom. A pang of emotion seared through my
chest to hear that Dad wanted to include me in but the words that came out of Mom's
mouth struck deeper in my heart.

She said, "He can't go, we're going driving again."

Driving in a GTO or driving with Mom in the wagon. There was no doubt in my mind what
the choice should be. When Gordie turned away I snuck up behind Mom, encouraged by
her answer and the irresistible hangers that jostled so enticingly beneath her loose
blouse. I was about to express my love when Gordie turned around just before entering
the garage.

"He won't want to miss it!" he yelled.

The last two words had barely left Gordie's mouth when his jaw dropped open as he
could now see me standing behind Mom. I had reached around Mom and couldn't stop my
hands from filling themselves with her gorgeous hangers just as he looked up.

Mom answered as if nothing was amiss.

"He won't want to miss his driving lesson either!"

Mom's hands closed over mine, as if covering bare breasts, but didn't pull them away.
Gordie, looking stunned, stared for ten long seconds, then haltingly turned away.
Mom sighed.

"You've let the cat out of the bag now."

I was surprised by how unworried she sounded. Gordie always expected the biggest slice
of pie, bowl of ice cream, piece of cake, or whatever goodie was being served up,
and was used to getting it. I thought about that and the recent equalization in our
relationship.

"I don't want to share," I whispered.

"I'm not a commodity, and anyway, who said it's up to you?"

Chastised, my knees slumped into the back of her legs and my face slid down along
the side of hers.

"Don't worry, baby," Mom's hands patted mine. "I love both my children but I am allowed
to have a favorite."

Mom pulled away from me then and walked to the bed. She lifted her skirt and pulled
her panties down, then tossed them aside and lifted a knee onto the bed. I went to
her and folded my arms around her again.

"I love you," I said.

"I know," she whispered.

I lowered my head and kissed her cheek and the crook of her neck. I squeezed her breasts
and fumbled with the blouse. Mom pushed my hands away and pulled it out of her skirt.
I pulled the blouse apart, sending buttons flying, and took her bare hangers into
my hands, groaning with pleasure just as the GTO revved higher and higher.

"I love you," I repeated, yelling to overcome the GTO.

Mom laughed. "Show me," she yelled back.

I squeezed her tits and used my thumbs and fingers to pinch and roll her robust nipples,
tugging them up until her heavy hangers pulled away from her torso and then letting
go so her breasts bounced. I pressed my hardness into her ass.

"Show me," Mom repeated.

I massaged Mom's breasts and manipulated her nipples while pressing my bulge into
her butt, falling back when she pushed against me and then prodding her ass forward.
We swayed to and fro, swinging in a wider and wider arc, but Mom didn't allow us to
lose balance until the GTO backed down the drive and squealed away. Then, she climbed
fully onto the bed and fell forward onto her hands, head and shoulders dropping all
the way to the mattress.

"Show me," she cried hoarsely.

I clambered onto the bed and kneeled behind her and flipped her skirt up and over
her ass. I was startled to see her naked cheeks, having already forgotten that she
had removed her panties. I gasped and Mom, knowing me as well as she did, laughed.


"Show me," she goaded.

I tore at my pants, fumbling with my belt. It took twice as long to get them down
to my knees than it should have. I cried out as my cock, already long and hard, caught
in the waistband of my shorts and was shoved violently down as I struggled to spring
it loose.

"Owww!"

Mom laughed.

My shaft, now free, wobbled behind Mom's inviting ass. I steered it between the fleshy
part of her thighs, just underneath the pouting lips of her glistening pussy, and
shoved it between her legs. Mom's hands clenched the comforter on the bed, gripping
it tight like she had in the back of the wagon.

"Show me, Stan."

"I will," I cried, my voice far more hoarse than Mom's.

I shoved my cock back and forth between Mom's thighs and was thrilled when she reached
back with one hand to cup my shaft length-ways from below to keep it pressed against
her cunt. Her wet lips on top and her silky palm underneath felt so fucking good I
had trouble breathing. Grabbing Mom's waist to hold her steady, I shoved against her
plush bottom, my thighs slapping into the back of hers.

"Show you," I muttered several times between pants. "Show you."

Mom's back bent and straightened as she reacted to my shoves, squeezing her thighs
and twisting her torso to maintain contact with my cock, her soft palm and slippery
fingers sliding along the bottom of my shaft, already moistened with her juices.

"Show me," she cried.

There was nothing I wanted to do more but I came, all too soon. It wasn't fair. I
had waited all week to be with her and now I had already spilled my seed into her
hand, on her belly, and on the bed. Mom twisted to the left and onto her back. I turned
with her as she opened her legs to welcome her hand, one folded over her cunt and
the other lying above on her belly with a finger stretched down to tickle her clit.
Kneeling between her spread legs, I watched her masturbate and she looked at my cock
which was no longer rock hard but was still respectably long with residues of cum
dripping off the tip.

I watched her hands, noting what she was doing so I could touch it right for her next
time I had the chance. I grabbed my semi-wilted cock and squeezed it, forcing a drop
of cum to drip onto her thigh. Mom moaned quietly so I jacked it a few strokes and
moved closer, trying to squeeze more jism onto the hand folded over her pussy but
it was no use.

I let go of my cock and reached down to place my hands on either side of the one on
her cunt and spread her legs wider. Mom kept her eyes on my cock which was starting
to rise. I slid my hands under her knees and lifted her thighs, pushing them open
and back, and tipping her cunt up towards me. Leaning forward, I dropped my cock onto
the back of her hands. Mom moaned again, but louder.

I sawed my cock back and forth over Mom's hands which became busier. My hands kept
her thighs pressed open and back and when she closed her eyes and began to lose herself
in her coming orgasm I slid my hands down to grab her wrists and pulled them away.
Mom opened her eyes and looked at me through sultry, half-closed lids as my shaft
skidded through her soaking wet slit.

I stopped, then used a hand to guide my cock down, poising the bulbous head at her
entrance. Mom's hands quickly grasped my shaft. I stared at her through eyes as glazed
as hers, grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away. Pinning them against the back
of her knees, I leaned further over to angle my cock down at a sharper angle.

"I'm going to show you."

The tip of my cock pierced her slit, forcing her lips apart but I didn't push my cock
in. Despite my bravado, I was waiting for a signal from Mom that it was okay to shove
my cock into her cunt, to finally fuck her!

But Mom didn't say a word. She just stared at me through those sexy, half shut eyes.
My breathing was so ragged I couldn't fill my lungs.

"Mom…"

Her legs started to straighten and her hands slid along their length from the back
of her knees to her ankles as she pulled them back. Tilting away from me, my cock
slid down and off Mom's pussy but Mom held herself still, legs wide open and stretched
way back. She looked at me with those eyes.

"Show me," she croaked.

That galvanized into action, I rose upon my knees and guided my cock back to repossess
her entrance, negotiated through her lips and starting pushing into the resisting,
pulpy mass inside. I thought I would slide easily right in to the balls but I had
to push my cock into Mom and all the way she made fantastic little sounds that made
me harder than I had ever been before. Mom released her ankles to curl her arms around
my neck as her heels dug into the middle of my back just as my balls made contact.


"Fuck me, Stanley, like you should have last Sunday."

I pulled out and was surprised when the next thrust easily slapped my balls between
her legs. I yanked out and shoved in deep again.

"You would have let me?" I gasped.

Mom nodded. Those were our last words. I started moving fast and kept shoving in hard
and Mom thrust up to meet me every time, pulling with her arms around my neck and
legs wrapped around my waist. We were noisy and sweaty and couldn't care less who
heard us. It was our first time and nothing else in the world mattered.

After a while I became afraid of coming again too early and tried to back off but
Mom forced us along. Having already come, I was able to enjoy the sight and sound
of Mom enjoying my cock. I gathered from her mutterings and the movements she made
that I was bigger than she was used to and she clearly liked having a bigger piece
of meat. I tried moving my cock in novel ways and found that certain movements made
Mom go nuts, gasping and moaning her pleasure without restraint. It was my first time
I had experienced the thrill of a woman abandoning herself on my cock. I loved it!


We fucked for a long time before Mom tilted her head back and closed her eyes. I leaned
close so I could brush my lips across hers and lightly kiss her cheeks and chin, sweat
dripping from my face onto hers. We came together, kept in sync by the mutual sounds
that excited us both so much it would have been impossible for us to do otherwise.


Afterward, Mom got up, removed her skirt and sweater, and cleaned herself up in the
bathroom. While she was there I peeled the rest of my clothes off to be ready for
action if Mom was game. I watched her return stark naked, smiling at my similar condition.
She stretched out beside me.

"God, I donlt know if I've ever had so good."

"Really?" I asked, pleased.

"Really," she confirmed, turning onto her side and tickling my face with a single
finger of her left hand.

"We aim to please," I joked.

"Mmhmm. So, what are you going now that you've revived the sensual woman inside me?
Can you keep her busy?" she teased.

"Absolutely," I insisted.

"I don't know about that," she replied, reaching down to touch my limp cock. "Maybe
you will have to share me with your brother."

That wasn't funny. "No way!" I responded. "He can…"

"Calm down. I was just kidding," Mom said, her hand back on my cheek. "I couldn't
anyway. I don't feel that way about Gordie. I didn't about you either, truth be known,
but you were so bad." Mom smiled and eased back onto her back. "God. How the hell
did we get here?"

I leaned over her, my hand now touching her face.

"Are you sorry."

Mom looked at me, suddenly serious. "No," she said. "But I'm a little sad."

I nodded. I thought I understood but I didn't say anything. Instead, I laid my head
on her shoulder and curled my arm around her. Her fingers toyed with the hair at the
back of my neck and we cuddled, each lost in their own thoughts.

Mom had long closed her eyes when my hand started roving slowly over her body. She
didn't open them when she spoke.

"We'd best be getting up. They'll probably be back soon."

"We'll hear them if they do."

"Will we? I don't think so. We were making quite a racket of our own."

Mom didn't make any attempt to stop my roving hand, not even when it flicked her re-stiffened
nipples. I loved the way her tits lifted off her chest, even when lying flat on her
back.

"The GTO is loud."

"Yes, but so are we," she laughed huskily.

The distraction afforded me the opportunity to reach between her legs. My fingers
folded over her pussy, much like hers had done.

"No, really. We should get up."

"Mmhmmm," I agreed, in principle, but my palm pressed on her mound and my long finger
found her groove.

"Stan, really."

"I know," I said. "In a minute."

"No, now," Mom protested, but a minute later she said, "Really, Stan. We should get
up."

"I know, Mom."

Another minute, maybe longer.

"Stan."

"I know."

My finger was inside her slit now, curled inside and digging upward.

"Stan."

"I know. I'm getting up."

I moved but only to lower my head, sliding down from her shoulder to her belly beneath
her tits. I inched toward my hand whose finger was busily digging into a slippery,
moist well.

"Stan."

"In a minute."

"No. Now, baby."

Her voice wasn't convincing but she started to move. My mouth opened and my tongue
flicked over her clit.

"Oh, Stan."

Flick, flick, flick. Swirl and tease. I positioned my mouth better and started working
on Mom's clit.

"Ohhhh, Stan."

I slipped a second finger inside her cunt and Mom moaned. I wanted to fuck her again
but I wanted more to give her this treat. I bet Dad never did this for her and I wanted
to make a memory that would last forever. I fingered Mom fast and slow and teased
her clit, flicking, licking, sucking and even chewing with my lips, until she came,
arching her back way off the bed, crying and mewling and clutching my head. Only her
pleasure had kept me from opening her legs and shoving my cock inside her because
I was even harder than I had been before.

After a while, Mom noticed my condition.

"I'm sorry, Stan, but I don't think I can," she said, looking straight at my huge
boner.

"It's okay," I understand. "We should get up anyway."

"In a minute," Mom said. "Let's stay here for a while longer."

"They'll probably be back soon," I reminded her.

"We'll hear them," Mom said.

"Will we?" I asked.

"The car's loud," she assured me.

Mom's hand was on my cock, kneading the head. It chafed. She saw and spit on her hand,
then returned it to my helmet. Wonderful.

"They'll be home soon, Mom."

"I know, but we'll hear them."

She stroked my cock.

"Maybe not."

She didn't answer. She was going to jack me off. A good mother, she didn't want me
to go away feeling dissatisfied. She turned more on her side and leaned down as if
to watch what she was doing. Her mouth enveloped my head without warning.

"Oh my God!"

She pulled off.

"You like that?" she laughed.

Before I could answer, Mom pushed her mouth down over my cock and this time she captured
the whole head and almost half of my shaft. She pulled back but not off and pushed
her head down again, capturing another half inch of my cock. Six or seven more times
and she was only an inch or so from my root. I twisted onto my back and Mom leaned
over me. She pulled away and looked at me, a huge grin on her face.

"I've been looking at some of the websites your brother has on his favorites list,"
she explained. "I guess you guys like this kind of thing."

On that note, Mom spit on my cock and immediately plunged her mouth over it again,
pushing way, way down the shaft. She sucked several times, then pulled off with a
loud, sucking sound.

"Or maybe you don't because you haven't got anything like that on your computer."


I did, but I was smart enough not to save it on my favorites.

"Don't you like this?"

Mom spit on my cock and again plunged her mouth down, taking me deep, working her
lips to pull herself onto it, and making gurgling sounds in her throat. She pulled
off with a loud, wet pop.

"Well, do you like it?"

"I love it," I gasped.

"You can hold my head if you want."

She was back on my cock and had bobbed her head three or four times before my hands
found her head. I held her lightly at first but gripped more firmly as I became more
comfortable knowing she really did want me to guide her head up and down my cock,
if only to make me feel good like I had done for her. I realized that Mom might want
to see me lose myself in her the way she had lost herself on my cock. I grabbed her
head firmly and took control of her movements. After a bit, I started thrusting my
cock into her mouth.

Mom had to pull off a few times because I guess I had gone too deep. Her mouth was
becoming wetter, probably because the excessive stimulation had forced greater production
of saliva. It was messy but strangely erotic to see strands of saliva stretching from
her lips to the tip of my cock when she pulled off to take a deep breath.

She spit on my cock, though it was completely unnecessary, and gurgled, "Show me,
Stan," laughing, mocking me.

I pushed her head on my cock and thrust into her mouth. Shove, shove, shove. Her head
popped off, gasping, and she quickly re-gobbled my cock. It went on like that until
I was barely letting her get her head off. I felt bad but I just couldn't let her
go, couldn't stand for my cock not to be buried in her mouth.

I unleashed the first gob in her mouth without warning. She pulled her head back but
I was still holding her and she couldn't avoid the next shot full in her face, on
her nose and cheek and forehead. I didn't mean for that to happen and was shocked
to see it but I kept hold of her head and tried to get my cock back in her mouth but
the next rope spilled across her face anyway.

I felt terrible but was hugely excited too. My cock had been tingling on the edge
of exploding for what seemed forever and this just threw everything over the edge.
I spurted again and again, coming more than ever, despite having already done so twice.
I was gasping, wasted, when Mom pulled away, her face covered in my spunk.

"Sorry, sorry," I muttered.

She was in the bathroom, running the water. Boy, I bet she was pissed.

I looked away, when the water shut off, to avoid her anger. I could hear her coming
back to the bed.

"Stan."

I kept facing away.

"Stan."

I turned to look at Mom. Her face was rosy, having just been buffed with the towel
she held in her hand. She bounced onto the bed.

"Wow," she said. "Did you ever come." She brushed her hand over her face. "It wasn't
as awful as I thought it would be. In those videos Gordie watches, it looks so disgusting."


"Wasn't it?"

"No, that's what makes it so strange. I mean, I guess because it was you and I wanted
to make you feel really good."

Mom looked at me expectantly.

"Did it?"

"What?"

"Feel really good?"

"Yeah."

"Did you like it, or did you think it was disgusting?"

"No, it was awesome."

"Awesome?"

"Yeah, awesome."

"So you want me to let you do it again sometime?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Well then, you have to do, you know…"

I looked between Mom's legs. "Oh yeah. Sure."

"You don't find it disgusting?"

"No. I like doing it."

"Why?"

"Because you like it so much."

"Is that all?"

"No. It's because it makes you lose control and you make all these sexy sounds, not
fake ones like in the pornos."

"So you do watch pornos on the web?"

I blushed. I was well caught.

"So, do you like it better when I lose control, or when you're in control?"

"Both," I answered truthfully.

"So do I," Mom said. "That's why I'm going to do it for you again."

"Me too,"

"We really should get dressed now."

"I know."

"I mean it," Mom laughed.

"I do too," I laughed back.

We got dressed in front of each other, then hugged and kissed. The kiss turned into
another one and then another, each longer than the last. The GTO rumbled into the
driveway and gurgled away with its three quarter race cam or we probably would have
kissed our way to another fuck. Reluctantly, we pulled apart.

"We went driving to the same place in case someone asks," Mom said.

"Right."

That night I remembered what Mom had said to me, "Show me, like you should have done
last Sunday." I couldn't believe I had missed that she had wanted me to fuck her.


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

Gordie tried to get familiar with Mom on Sunday and got a slap and a "What the hell
are you doing?" from Mom. That was it for him.

But Mom wasn't the type to hold a grudge. She offered to take Gordie's place on Tuesday
and Thursday so he could join Dad in the garage with some fine-tuning of the GTO's
dual carbs.

Maybe Mom had an alternative motive. On Tuesday, I couldn't do much because I was
washing. Mom constantly flirted and teased with supposedly platonic kisses and more
suggestive nudges. I was sure she was going to visit me later that night but she didn't,
nor did she come Wednesday night.

On Thursday, Gordie was washing when Mom relieved him. He eagerly ran out of the house
to get his hands on the GTO but I think, in fairness, he was also being a good brother
because he knew I wanted to be alone with Mom. This time it was my turn to tease while
Mom's hands were busy in the sink.

I pressed and nudged and squeezed and planted a few light but decidedly unplatonic
kisses on Mom's neck. Eventually, I made a lot of noise putting a pot away to cover
up the sound of unzipping my pants and took her completely by surprise when I pressed
my bare cock against the back of her skirt. Somehow, she seemed to know it was unholstered.


"Stan, they're right outside."

"They'll be busy for a while."

Mom breasts were standing out especially proud and I could easily see that, despite
her caution, she was very excited and had probably been aching for me to grab a handful
of her tits. I now knew that she really liked the way I touched them—I mean, I almost
worshipped them—why wouldn't she?

"But they could come in any time," Mom protested as my hands found the sides of her
skirt and started pulling it up.

"So? We're dressed."

"I am, you're not."

"I can put it away."

"Not like that, you can't."

"You could douse it with cold water."

Mom laughed. "I just might do that."

"But not right away."

"No, not right away," she agreed.

"You shouldn't do that," she protested as I lifted her skirt above her ass.

"You could turn around and go down on your knees instead," I said, surprised by my
brazen, vulgar suggestion.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You bet."

My hands were inside Mom's skirt and sliding up the outside of her thighs, rising
over her hips and then moving inward. She wasn't wearing any panties!

Sucking in her breath but otherwise ignoring my hands, Mom said, "You don't really
think I'd do that while they're right outside."

My hands slid further inward, turning so I could brush my palms over Mom's bare buttocks.


"Do what?" I asked, innocently.

"You know…put my mouth on you."

I cupped and squeezed each buttock, then spread them apart, lodging my cock in the
resulting groove underneath the skirt. The sensation of her bare buttocks folding
around my cock was almost unbearable.

"Why not? You like doing it."

"Because we could get caught."

I flexed my hips to push my cock between Mom's legs.

"No we wouldn't. Gordie will keep Dad in the garage."

Mom tensed.

"You think he knows?"

"He isn't stupid. He came onto you, didn't he?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. He acted as if it was a joke. How did you know?"

"I heard you slap him."

"Oh."

My cock started sliding through Mom's legs again and she started breathing harder.


"Do you really like having it in your mouth?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you like it. Do you really want me to suck you now?"

I knew Mom was enjoying using the words she had heard on Gordie's internet porno sites.


"Will you let me hold your head?"

I was pushing hard against Mom's ass now, pressing her against the counter and rubbing
her cheeks with my hands.

"Yes." Her voice was thick.

I didn't say anything, just pushed my cock back and forth between Mom's thighs.

"Can I scrape it on your face?"

It sounded stupid and an especially ridiculous thing to say to Mom but a low moan
escaped from her lips.

"Are you sure they won't come in?" she wondered.

"Yeah, Gordie will make sure."

"Promise you won't make a mess like last time."

Mom almost choked on the words. I was amazed she was getting off talking like this.
I guessed she might be playing some kind of role like something she had watched and
it cool she was comfortable doing that with me.

"You're too sexy, Mom. I might get carried away."

It was an honest answer but I was trying to get in the spirit of the game we seemed
to be playing even thought I didn't believe for a minute she would actually suck my
cock in the kitchen.

"I know," Mom whispered.

"But I'd try real hard not to because if I made a mess we couldn't hide it."

"That's right," Mom panted. "We should stop now, before we get carried away."

"Okay," I agreed. "Or, I could just put my cock in you, from behind, like this."

"No, Stan. They might come in."

But it was too late. My cock was already plying her well-lubricated slit.

"Stan! Oh no, we can't."

But I was already going deeper, shoving it up her tunnel.

"Just for a minute," I promised, knowing she wouldn't believe me.

"Just for a minute?"

"Yeah," I grunted. "Just for a minute."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," I grunted.

I dragged my meat out and shoved it back in, then began a slow but steady fuck.

"Just for a minute," Mom reaffirmed.

"Yeah, yeah. Just for a minute."

About three minutes later Mom had to move her hands from the sink to the taps because
she was sloshing water all over the place. I nudged her feet apart and whispered.


"Stand up on your tippy-toes."

It was a weird request but Mom did it, a foreshadow of our coming sex life. The tension
in her leg muscles tightened her cunt's grip on my cock and we both groaned. I screwed
her like that until it became too hard to lift my cock into her and dragged her away
from the counter. Amazingly, Mom walked her legs back on her tippy-toes, like a ballerina
doing point work. Her hands slipped off the taps and grabbed the edge of the sink
as her head sagged between her outstretched arms. I slammed against her butt.

The GTO started up. I guess Dad and Gordie were making final adjustments to the carbs.
It was a good thing because my thighs were slapping loudly against the back of Mom's.
I don't know how she stayed up on her toes under that assault but she did.

When I came, I dragged Mom completely away from the sink. Her hands dropped on the
floor to brace against my attack and her hair fell over her dangling head. I wondered
if she was watching her legs which quivered the whole time my spunk was spurting inside
her. It was a loud, gasping come on both our parts but thankfully the GTO rumbled
throughout the whole affair.

A week later Mom took Gordie's turn again so he could work on the GTO with Dad. She
was wearing pantyhose so I was wondering how I was going to get her from behind, which
I liked and knew she did too. So why had she worn pantyhose?

Then I thought, why not make a hole in it? Lifting her skirt, I felt around for a
good place to start one and made two discoveries. First, there was already a hole
there in the perfect spot and, second, Mom wasn't wearing panties.

She went up on her tippy-toes and I pushed my fingers through the pantyhose which
slowed me briefly but only for a moment. Then, I was plying Mom's cunt with two fingers
and milking her left tit with my other hand. Her hand found my pants and slid inside
after deftly unsnapping the waist and pushing the zipper down. I rested my head on
her back as she began stroking me and concentrated on doing the best finger job I
could.

It was several long seconds, too many seconds, before I noticed the silence and realized
how dangerous it was. My head lifted off Mom's back and then my fingers jerked out
of her cunt.

Dad and Gordie were coming toward the house.

I had barely managed to yank up my sweatpants and rammed myself painfully against
the sink to hide my hardon while Mom quickly grabbed the dish towel I had dropped
on the floor, shaking her hips to force her skirt down. Gordie looked kind of surprised
to see Mom drying when she had taken his place washing but didn't say anything.

Later that night I was sitting on the side of my bed in the dark when Mom crept down
the hallway past Gordie's closed door. The light from under his door shone on her
bare legs and swaying hangers as she looked toward the muffled sounds of the internet
porno movie Gordie was watching.

It was well past midnight. I thought she might come because we had both been left
hanging and had been glancing at each other the rest of the night after finishing
the dishes. Mom closed my door and came straight to the bed, kneeling on the floor
even in the darkness as if she expected me to be sitting there. I grasped the sides
of her head and pulled her mouth onto my cock. There was no bantering, role-playing
slut talk. Mom just opened her mouth and I shoved my cock into it. She made quick
work of me.

After that she fell back onto the floor and I followed, my mouth quickly finding the
apex of the 'V' between her legs and wrapping my lips around her sex. I munched and
she threw her pussy at my face until she came as quickly as I had.

I got up, dragged the mattress off my bed and hauled Mom onto it. She drew her knees
way back, signaling she wanted a hard fuck and several minutes later didn't resist
when I rolled her onto her stomach. She raised her ass but I pushed her flat and straddled
her thighs, shoving my cock between them and deep into her cunt, then bounced her
up and down on the mattress, huffing and puffing for a long time until we both came.


Sated, we cuddled for a while and Mom told me how horny she had been all night thinking
about how close we had come to getting caught in the kitchen. She said the scare was
way better than just talking trashy. I admitted I had been scared as hell but the
danger had wound me up too.

When she left to go back to her room, we were surprised to see Gordie's door wide
open with the light flooding into the hallway. We could hear, just barely, the sound
of a porno movie and then some noise from the kitchen downstairs. Gordie hadn't even
bothered to pause his movie, I guess thinking nobody else was awake.

Mom walked down the hall to her room as if it was the middle of the day and she was
fully dressed. At her door, she paused, cupped her breasts, and turned to smile at
me.

"Remember?" she whispered, and slipped into her room before I could even nod my head.


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

So that's how it went. Mom and I carried on for years and years. Everyone commented
on how close we were but nobody suspected what was really going on between us despite
several close calls. Mom became especially horny when Dad's sister visited. Every
time she came, Mom found a way for us to fuck in the house while she was there. Crazy!


The only person who knew about us was Gordie—at least I think he knew—but he never
spoke openly about it. The closest he got was to wonder when we were alone from time
to time over the years, why I had been so desperate to pay him hundreds of bucks to
do the dishes and how that had made it easier to get the use of Mom's station wagon.
He never really pushed it, though. I think he just enjoyed making me feel awkward.


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

Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment and vote (but only once else it may not
count).

