URL: http://web.archive.org/web/20130723065940/http://www.literotica.com/s/the-mom-memories-ch-14
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: The Mom Memories Ch. 14
Tags: The Mom Memories Ch. 14, alwayswantedto, son, mom, milf, seduction, tease, reluctant, older female, mother/son, older woman

Summary: Secret group exchanges maternal memories.

All characters are 18 years or older.

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

From Ch. 13

From Jack's story:

That's it, I thought. That's the key. I could hardly wait to get to school tomorrow.
To see my art teacher, the one with the tattoos.

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

What was this all about? What was he up to? I couldn't find another letter from Jack,
at least in my hurried search. I decided to try again after I settled down. Mom wasn't
home yet so I reviewed the evening monitors for activity. I wished I hadn't. I found
what Mary had meant by, "We'll be free by the weekend."

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

Mary was already sitting up in bed watching TV. The toilet flushed and Paul came into
view.

"You haven't started, have you?" he asked his mom, unbuckling the belt on his trousers.


"No." Mary waved the remote at him keeping her eyes on the TV as Paul slipped his
pants off and tossed them on a chair. It wasn't until Paul turned sideways to look
at the TV that Mary's eyes glanced his way, straight at his midsection and the prominent
bulge evident there even though his shirt covered his undershorts. Her gaze jerked
back to the TV when Paul turned toward her.

"You may as well start, Mom," he said, turning back to the TV, fingers busy undoing
the buttons on his shirt.

Mary watched what she was doing as she manipulated the remote. Paul finished unbuttoning
his shirt but continued watching the TV as the previews began for upcoming movies.
He removed his shirt slowly, his attention captured by a preview of the new Spiderman
movie. When his undershorts were uncovered, Mary's eyes strayed to her son's large
bulge, her true feelings betrayed by the desire in her eyes. Mary may have been compelled
to help her son, and she may not have done it if not prodded by me, but it was clear
that it was no longer an entirely dutiful experience for her, even if she couldn't
admit that to herself.

Paul wasn't interested in the next preview and turned to get into bed. Anticipating
this, Mary had refocused her eyes on the TV. She started the movie and dropped the
remote on the bed. Paul slipped under the covers, turning on his side to face his
mom with his head on the pillow rather than propped up to watch the movie like Mary.


Paul made no pretense of being interested in the movie, he completely ignored it and
Mary made no comment about him not watching it. He simply lay on his side, staring
at Mary's breasts under the nightie, perhaps marveling at their still youthful rise
from her chest, or maybe he was thinking about something more lewd like the way he
had ripped her nightdress the night before to watch his semen trickle between her
tits to her belly.

Whatever he was thinking, it wasn't long before there were signs of movement under
the blanket. Unlike the night before when I could see his hands moving under the covers
over his mom's legs, the evidence was indirect. Mary's legs appeared to be moving
in response to Paul trying to push her knees up and seconds later this was confirmed
as Mary lifted her knees under the covers. Mary complied with just a faintly annoyed
expression but she spoke a moment later when her knees began to wobble. Evidently,
Paul was trying to open her legs and she was resisting.

"Paul."

No response.

"Paul," Mary repeated. "I'm trying to watch the movie."

"I know. I'm just trying to help you see better," Paul replied, ignoring the fact
that he had pushed her legs up in the way in the first place. Nevertheless, Mary's
knees spread apart as she stopped resisting his pressure and quietly resumed watching
the movie.

Like the night before, Mary's face signaled the touch of Paul's hand. Instead of starting
by stroking her legs and working his way up, he went straight for the prize. Mary
sucked her breath in sharply and began breathing in sharp little gasps. She must have
been primed, whether from watching his cock bulge in his shorts or from thinking about
what was going to happen, but the speed with which Paul had managed to get her breathing
so quickly indicated that she'd been more than ready for his touch. Her head lolled
against the headboard and she closed her eyes.

Paul rose up on one elbow, watching her tits heave on her chest as her ribcage emptied
and filled. His eyes moved down to her crotch, which I couldn't see because of the
blankets stretched across her knees. Clearly, Paul wanted to see more too, to watch
what his hand was doing, because he slowly peeled the covers back, baring his mother's
legs. Her feet were planted wide apart, knees up and open wide, and her nightie had
fallen to her hips, exposing her pussy. His mother had gone to bed without panties.


Mary opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at her son. She looked very horny,
her eyes desperate and her breathing erratic. Paul's hand moved to regain possession
of her pussy, his fingers twiddling from side to side, teasing her lips, fingertips
dipping inside the wet slit between. Mary must have started lubricating before he
even touched her to be this wet so fast. Paul's eyes traveled up his mom's belly,
over her heaving breasts, to engage her eyes. Mary stared back, her head seeming to
nod, almost imperceptibly, signaling what?

Eyes steadily on his mother, Paul moved his hand up to brush his fingers all around
Mary's mound.

"You're so big here, Mom, like me," he said.

Mary nodded silently, too busy trying to breathe to talk.

Paul bunched his fingers together and pushed them inside, whispering something I couldn't
hear. Mary squirmed, wiggling side to side, lowering herself in the bed, sliding off
the pillows propped behind her back. When she was laying almost flat, Paul whispered
again. Mary's feet left the bed as she brought her knees back to her shoulders, and
then to her sides as Paul whispered again, lewdly opening herself to his eyes, and
mine. He continued to whisper softly to her as he worked his fingers inside her, barely
moving them in and out, mostly twisting them back and forth.

Mary was nodding her head constantly, her eyes closed, but she suddenly shook her
head no to something her son was now suggesting. She kept shaking her head slowly
and he kept fingering her for a minute or two, and then, Mary's head stopped shaking
and she stretched her foot back, trying to reach behind her head. Paul got up to his
knees and, keeping his finger inside hers, put his left hand under her back and lifted
her hips off the bed, enabling Mary's feet to reach the headboard. Mary's foot was
searching, scraping along the headboard. Paul shifted his knees to keep her bum in
its raised position and used his now free left hand to guide Mary's foot to the leather
loop on the headboard. She helped Paul, scrunching her foot so it could more easily
fit through the loop.

Damn, I thought. She's going to do it for him.

Paul quickly moved to get her other ankle secured. I switched to the overhead camera
so I could see Mary in her spread out glory. God. It may be lewd, but she looked fantastic
spread out like that, ass twisted up off the bed, legs wide open, pussy soaked and
full of her son's fingers.

Paul worked away with his fingers, twisting, twisting, twisting. Sometimes he rubbed
her clit with the thumb of his left hand and several times he pulled his hands away
altogether, just as it seemed that Mary was about to come. Her eyes fluttered open
then but she never said anything. Nevertheless, the look in her eyes betrayed her
need to come and when his fingers returned, her eyes would close and the expression
on her face indicated a more fervent effort to climb the ramp of desire to fruition
before he next left her pussy hollow and pulsing its need to be filled again. Each
time his fingers returned, Paul worked them further in, twisting his knuckles slowly
back and forth, making it easier for Mary to reach nirvana.

It suddenly dawned on me what Paul was doing. He was preparing her, opening her so
his humongous cock head could slip inside her easily, quickly, so she couldn't block
him. Did Mary know? Did she know her son was getting ready to fuck her? Was she trying
to come first, or did she want him, despite what she'd said to me?

When the moment came, reason wouldn't have anything to do with it, that much was certain.
Mary was moaning and moaning as her son almost fisted her, though gently, slowly working
all of his fingers in her, pulling out now and then to check how open she was. I could
tell the moment was near because he suddenly pushed his undershorts down to his knees.
I was sure the next time he pulled his fingers out they would be replaced by his cock
before Mary could open her eyes. Would she care?

Paul leaned forward and, despite how soaked Mary's pussy was, he drooled on it. Quickly,
he pulled his fingers out, grasped his cock, and pressed it against his mom's gaping
hole. Mary's eyes flew open, looking first at her son and then down to her pussy,
watching him push the rest of his cock inside her. Her mouth was open and stayed open
even after the massive head disappeared. Paul shifted up from his knees to squat on
his feet, straddling Mary's haunches, grabbing the headboard with both hands to steady
himself. As Mary looked up at him, Paul began to fuck her, slowly at first but steadily
increasing his pace until the room was filled with the wet sound of his legs slapping
against hers.

Mary's mouth was open in a silent scream, a scream of ecstasy judging by the enraptured
look on her face. She loved it. I don't know where Paul got his control from but several
times he suddenly stopped, staying still for a least a minute before resuming, sometimes
starting over again with a slow grinding fuck, sometimes fucking his mom hard. It
wasn't clear whether he stopped to prevent himself from coming or his mother, or both.
But eventually, he didn't stop, gasping loudly, somehow knowing he had to pull out,
that he couldn't pump his enormous load into his mom, that it needed somewhere to
go. Mary was already soaked in her own fluid but Paul absolutely deluged her, pumping
so much onto the backs of her legs, her pussy and ass, and her stomach and tits, that
it looked like a fire truck had doused her with foam.

I watched to see Mary's reaction to Paul's surprise attack, but there was none. Mary
disentangled herself from the leather straps after Paul rolled off her and simply
disappeared from camera view, the shower starting up right away. Paul quietly stripped
the bed and replaced the sheets and pillow cases, pulling the covers up and setting
the movie back to its start. He left for the shower when his mother appeared, still
silent, drying herself with a large towel, smiling at her son as they passed. She
crawled between the sheets, completely nude, and plumped the pillows before starting
the movie, not waiting, realizing her son wasn't the least bit interested in it.

Paul returned from the shower a moment later, also completely naked. Mary watched
him approach and climb into bed, her eyes on his unique cock. I couldn't read her
expression but her eyes never left his cock until it was covered by the blankets.
Mary turned back to the movie and Paul went to sleep.

I fell asleep before Mom got home. I awoke just as she finished dressing and came
over to kiss me good morning, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Mom said, kissing me on the forehead, then quickly on
my lips. "Say, do you think Paul has finally got to Mary?" she asked. "Maybe introduced
her to these," she laughed, eyes twinkling as her hand flipped one of our leather
straps.

"I don't know," I replied, still not fully awake. "Why?"

"Well, I was up very early and I heard some strange sounds from downstairs while I
was having my coffee."

I perked up at that.

Mom laughed again, "That got you interested, didn't it? Is there a little voyeur in
my boy?"

My panic was short-lived as I realized that Mom couldn't possibly know about the cameras.


"I don't know what he was doing to her," she went on, "but the sounds were almost
inhuman. She loved it though, whatever it was, for a long time. Lucky girl."

Mom's eyes gazed off into space, perhaps imagining what Paul had done to his mother,
putting herself in Mary's place.

"Well, gotta go." Mom kissed me and left.

I hurried downstairs, grabbed a coffee and some toast and rushed to the study.

I reviewed the recordings for the past few hours, picking up Mary and Paul as the
morning light filtered through their bedroom window. Paul woke first. He watched his
mother sleeping for a few minutes as she lay facing away from him on her tummy, her
upper back exposed. Timidly, his fingers pinched the covers and drew them down to
her hips. He paused to admire the curve of her spine but only for a few seconds before
drawing the covers down to reveal her buttocks. His eyes rested longer on her cheeks,
long enough for his tongue to peek between his lips. Down he tugged the covers further
yet, to mid thigh, revealing Mary's open legs and her pussy bulging out below the
crease that divided her ass. He lifted the covers then, drawing them completely off,
careful not to wake his mother, exposing both of them in their naked state.

Gingerly, Paul changed his position so he was laying between Mary's legs. He crept
up, and very carefully, worked his fingers under his mom's pussy, stretching his thumb
up to brush her pouting lips. Mary's ass moved then. Though still asleep she was still
able to react to the tingling sensation of Paul's gentle touch. He lowered his head
and I could tell he was licking her ass. After a few minutes, he raised his head to
look. Mary's pussy was already starting to glisten and her ass was wet between the
lower part of her cheeks where Paul had been tonguing her. He placed his left elbow
outside her hip and used that hand to grasp her cheek, pulling it apart before dipping
his head down once more.

Mary moved slightly every minute or so but it was clear she was still asleep. It was
her body that was reacting, not her mind, though she might have been experiencing
some wonderful dreams. Paul paused each time she moved, waiting until her breathing
resumed before lowering his head to lap her ass again. Clearly, he wanted her to be
incredibly horny when she finally woke up.

After several movements, Mary's legs were wide open as she unconsciously accommodated
her son's ministrations. It even seemed that her ass had lifted a bit to provide better
access for the exploring tongue snaking into her dark little hole. Her breathing was
deeper. Paul managed to work on her for a long time before she showed the first definite
sign of being awake. Her hands clenched, bunching the sheets in her fists, before
she spoke.

"God, what are you doing to me?" she gasped.

"Morning, Mom. I'm having a special breakfast."

Paul's head dipped again to lap his mother's ass. I could see the muscles on the back
of his right arm moving as he worked his fingers in her pussy.

"God, oh god," Mary cried.

Paul lifted his head again. I could see Mary's ass lifting, trying to follow.

"Do you like it Mom?"

"Yes. God, yes," Mary gasped. "I never ... no one's ever ..."

Paul's head dropped into her ass again but the movement was different this time. His
head dug in deep and then shook.

Mary's reaction was startling. She gasped loudly, "Oh my god, unngggghhhh, oh god,
oh god, unnnnhhhh."

Paul kept digging and shaking his head. He must have plunged his tongue deep into
her ass. Mary began to wail as Paul's head continued shaking, periodically bursting
out a few words, "I never ... don't stop ... god ... that's incredible ... do it,
do it ... unnghhhh."

When Paul finally pulled his head away, spreading Mary's cheeks apart so he see the
results of his tongue lashing, I could see Mary's asshole, larger than a quarter,
opening and closing a little as her ass still moved up and down, responding to the
tongue that was no longer there. I couldn't help it. A squirt escaped my cock, wetting
my pants before I could stop it. She looked so erotic with her ass pulsing like that.


"Paul, you can't ... you're too big ...," Mary gasped.

"I know, Mom, I know. Trust me. I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know son." Mary sounded like she was about to say more but Paul flicked his tongue
across her gaping asshole several times, before plunging it back in. The moaning wail
started again.

After a while, Paul began teasing Mary's ass higher and higher until she was up on
her knees. He pulled his face away then and replaced his tongue with his thumb, nudging
his huge cock head against her pussy.

"Slowly, son. Go slow," Mary gasped, clearly not adverse to her son fucking her again.


"I will Mom. I'm sorry I'm so big," Paul replied, still pushing at her pussy with
his cock.

"Don't be sorry, son. You feel wonderful inside me."

"You don't mind?"

"Mind? Are you kidding? Last night was incredible. Nobody else could do that for me,
make me feel like that. Nobody."

A look of pure joy crossed Paul's face but a pain ran through my chest as I realized
the simple truth of Mary's words. Everything had changed as soon as he had pushed
his cock into her. I could see it in her face last night and I could hear it in her
voice this morning. She would always want her son's cock.

"Put it in me." Mary spread her legs wider, moving her ass, trying to help him get
in her. "Go ahead, son. I can take it."

Paul hunched his ass forward, trying to shove more of his cock inside his mom.

"Come on, son, give it to me." Mary urged him on.

Paul pushed harder. Mary braced herself, pushing pack.

"Oh, god," she grunted, "fuck me, come on, I need you inside me."

Paul was pushing hard now. I could see a grimace on Mary's face as she strained to
take him. Her face relaxed as Paul popped in, filling her cunt, forcing a loud grunt
and long moan from his mother's lips.

"Fuck me, Paul," she whispered almost immediately, "fuck me."

Mary collapsed to the bed, pulling her son with her, his cock firmly lodged inside.
Obediently, he started bucking his hips into her ass. "Don't pull out when you come,
honey. Stay deep so it has room to squish out."

"I will," Paul gasped, pounding his Mom's pussy faster and faster, his thumb still
plugged in her ass.

Paul stopped again just before I thought he was about to come, waited for a minute,
then started again. He repeated this again and again. Mary was wild. She was moaning
and grunting all the time. She hadn't spoken an intelligible word for almost half
an hour. Finally, like last night, there came a time when Paul didn't stop but kept
moving faster. Suddenly, he plunged down, holding Mary's ass deep into the mattress,
forcing his cock in as far as he could, as per his mother's instructions, leaving
room around for his fluids to seep out of her pussy. Mary's ass bucked about wildly,
responding to the throes of her own orgasm. Soon they lay still.

Paul turned her after a few minutes, keeping her impaled on his cock as he turned
over onto is back. Mary lay on top of him, back on his chest, legs splayed wide. Paul
began to knead her tits as his mother regained her breath. It was quite a while until
his left hand moved down to cup her pussy, gently massaging it in a rolling rub. Soon,
his right hand slipped off his mom's tit down to her torso, sliding around her hip
and disappearing under her ass. Mary's face told the story, tightening up in surprise
as Paul's finger slipped inside her ass. A minute later, he started to fuck her again.


This one didn't last as long because Paul didn't stop; he just kept fucking until
they both came again. I could see his spunk squeeze out of her pussy and drip down
both of their legs in a big sticky mess. Still, she lay on him for a long time before
sitting up and carefully pulling herself off his cock before heading for the shower.


I sat for a while the monitors continued to play, responding to Paul's movements.
Where did he get his sexual confidence and knowledge, seemingly so far beyond his
mother's, a woman almost twenty years his senior? As a young fellow just a few years
older, I knew the answer to that. The internet. We had so much more available for
us to learn not just viable techniques but also exotic preferences and even fringe
tastes, especially my own gender, the more avid consumers of online porn. We may lack
actual experience but we arrived at game time so well equipped that it wasn't surprising
for an older woman to succumb to our selfish initiatives, especially when they were
likely entering their own more sexually adventurous years. Add to that possibly years
of boredom and same-old, same-old with a sexual partner stuck in the morays of twenty
to thirty years past, well, let's just say that a young guy was rarely so lucky as
to stumble into a situation with a woman willing to try new things -- with enthusiasm.


The thought was depressing. I couldn't study, so I started browsing through the letters.


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

My father's name is Bill and mine is William. That's right, William. Rather than being
Bill junior, I insisted on William after turning thirteen. Before that everyone called
me Billy. I think the choice made me grow up with more poise and maturity than most
of my peers. After the teasing in that first year, being referred to as William just
demanded more deference somehow and I learned to carry a certain quiet authority in
my mannerisms.

My mother's name is Linda. Bill and Linda were a popular couple in their younger days,
hosting a lot of parties when my sister and I were growing up. But eventually the
parties declined in frequency, attracted fewer new people, and slowly petered out.
Still, it was a few years before my sister managed to turn the large party room in
the basement into her private domain. The shift was more rapid for me, over my sister's
objections, when she left for college. The only compromise I had to make was to store
some of her stuff off to one end of the room but that wasn't such a big deal. After
she left, I threw a tarp over it and painted it with a can of black spray paint, the
dominant color in my new decor.

Dad was nearing the end of his career but rather than winding down that meant he was
required to handle increasingly important issues for his company. He was away a lot
but was well compensated, allowing my mother to retire, even though she fourteen years
his junior at only 46 years old (Mom was my father's second marriage, he her first).
My father did slow down on the home front. His work was taxing and he simply didn't
have the energy to expend when he was home. He had always been a workaholic, so it
just wasn't in his nature to lower his commitment to work near the end of his career;
he needed to go out with at least one more achievement under his belt.

That left Mom alone while Dad was traveling, or even when he was home. She had long
ago stopped accompanying Dad on his business trips since he worked even more on his
trips than he did at home. When she had gone she was just bored and alone in strange
cities, or stuck with another corporate wife who felt equally saddled. It was worse
for Mom after my sister left, because that's who she talked with when Dad was gone.
Most of her friends were still working hard on their careers. Mom had never really
been a career woman, being happy to leave work while my sister and I were growing
up, and reluctant to return when we started school. Still, Mom was bored after quitting
work.

She started coming down to visit me in the dungeon I had transformed my sister's room
into, or had ruined according to my sister. I have to say, I considered it quite an
annoyance at first, but I realized that Mom was going through a difficult period of
her life. She had only been 'retired' about four months, long enough to be bored silly
but not sufficient to have adopted new interests. So Mom would wander downstairs to
visit me almost any time day or night. She had a hard time sleeping now and knew I
was a night owl, so she would often knock quite late at night if dim light showed
under the door, and eventually she tapped a warning knock and then walked right in.


Now, I know you're thinking she caught me masturbating, but that didn't happen. Mom
just became comfortable wandering in to hang out with me, and I with her being there.
In a way it was cool. Mom and I got to know each other quite well, for her to be comfortable
laying on my bed, or in the old chair, sometime without even talking, me playing a
computer game and her reading. She just liked being near someone and I grew to prefer
having her around to being alone.

Of course, when Mom visited me later at night, she was usually wearing her nightgown,
robe and slippers rather than her typical day fare, blouse and slacks or skirt. I
didn't really pay any attention to this at first until the thought crossed my mind
one evening when Mom came down to visit even though Dad had just arrived home. Mom
and Dad never got 'together' at night. Now, I know they used to because I had heard
them when I was younger and my sister mentioned how noisy they were after she first
moved downstairs. Their room was right above this one and unmistakable sounds floated
down the heat vents but my sister only let me sneak down to listen once.

When that memory resurfaced in my mind, I couldn't help thinking about it more an
more. They weren't doing it anymore? Yeah, my Dad was getting old, seemingly stressed
all the time, and distracted, but my Mom looked younger than her age by a few years.
She couldn't have lost interest in sex yet, I thought, not looking like she did. I
mean, she wasn't a raving beauty but she was at least as good looking as Julianne
Moore. Still, I was positive that my mom wasn't involved with anybody, and wouldn't
be. She was just going through a difficult time. I felt a tremendous softness toward
her.

Of course, that didn't stop me from appreciating her form. After all, I was eighteen.
As my eyes roamed over her, laying across the end of my bed reading a pocket book,
I found myself wishing it was during the day when she would have been wearing a skirt
that would show her legs better. I tried to remember the shape of her legs but I had
no memories stored there for reference; I simply hadn't logged that kind of information
about my mother.

Feigning interest in my laptop (I was keeping up with friends on facebook) I allowed
my eyes glance furtively at Mom's upper body, since her legs were wrapped in her full
length robe. I had better fortune here, because her robe had worked loose and opened
enough for me to see her nightdress underneath. I wished I could see her in just that
nightdress. It was a shimmery looking blue material, edged in a white lace border
about an inch thick. I could see skin through the tiny holes in the lace, the skin
on her breasts. That was the second time in my life that I felt my cock stir in response
to my mom.

I felt this horrible guilt but at the same time a thrill shot through me, spreading
from the tip of my cock and through my loins. My eyes traveled a couple of inches
higher, over the curve of her breasts, swelling above the 'neckline' of her nightdress
because of the pressure on them from the way she was laying. A few more inches and
-- christ, her eyes were looking right at me. I blushed, too stunned to look away,
my muscles incapable of responding and my brain similarly incapacitated.

Mom smiled, "Would you like it if I made us some hot chocolate?"

I nodded, at least I tried to, my neck muscles still resisting commands. Mom flipped
her book over on the bed to save her place and slipped off the bed. The goofiest thought
crossed through my mind, about how she would lecture me about how that wasn't good
for the binding when I did that with my own books. When I finally managed to operate
my head again, she was by the door.

"It's freezing in here," she commented, turning the dial on the thermostat before
disappearing into the night.

What the fuck was going on with me? I had just got caught looking at my mother's cleavage.
She had to know what I was looking at. How bloody embarrassing. Jesus! How could I
face her. I should just pretend I was tired and fell asleep, I thought. I closed my
laptop and put it on the bedside table, slipped out of my t-shirt and jeans and under
the covers, and closed my eyes. A moment later I sat up. This is stupid, I thought.
She knows I'm a night owl. She'll know something's wrong. I should just brazen it
out, act as if nothing happened. That's it. I was just about to get out of bed and
back into my jeans when Mom appeared through the door again, carrying a tray with
two huge mugs of hot chocolate, some cookies and cheese.

"Hey, lazybones. What are you doing in bed already?"

"Oh, uh, I was feeling kind of tired."

"Tired? Really? I was about to see if you want to watch that new movie, the one you
downloaded on your laptop. You're not really tired are you?"

Mom set the tray down on the table on the other side of my bed, picked up one of the
mugs and handed it to me, then passed me the plate with the cookies on it.

"Come on," she said, "watch a movie with me."

"Ok, Mom."

I was so relieved that my transgression seemed to be history. I set the plate of cookies
beside me and turned to set my mug down and pick up my laptop. My nervous returned
with a bang when I turned back, placing the laptop on my lap. Mom was standing on
the other side of the bed removing her robe. I quickly turned my face to my laptop,
concentrating on firing it up, but my attention strained toward my peripheral vision,
trying to see without looking. I felt more than saw her pull the covers back and slip
into bed beside me, plump up the pillow to make herself comfortable before pulling
the covers up and over her breasts, but not before I had a fleeting glimpse of bouncing
mammaries. I was distinctly aware that she was dressed only in her nightdress, laying
only a foot away from me.

Mom watched as I started the movie, then turned to get her own mug and the other plate
with the chunks of cheese, setting it beside the cookie plate between us. We watched
the movie for quite awhile but I was very tense and couldn't tell you what happened.
Slowly, I began to relax.

"Drink your hot chocolate before hit gets cold, honey," Mom's voice broke through
to me.

Looking down, I realized I was still holding an almost full mug and Mom's was half
gone. I immediately raised it to my lips and took a big gulp.

Mom picked up a cookie and handed it to me but I couldn't take it, holding the mug
and the laptop still on my lap so she held the cookie to my lips and pressed it in
so I could take a bite.

"It's been a long time since I had to feed you," she laughed, holding the cookie a
few inches away, waiting for me to finish chewing.

You might have thought her closeness would have made me even more nervous but it seemed
to have the opposite effect. The familiarity relaxed me. I opened my mouth in feigned
exaggeration, like Malcom McDowall in 'A Clockwork Orange' which Mom and I had watched
a couple of weeks earlier upstairs.

Mom laughed, realizing the joke, and slipped the cookie in as per my silent demand.
I chewed in an exaggerated fashion, took a sip of hot chocolate, and opened my mouth
wide for more. We played that silly game until the cookie was gone.

"More?" Mom asked, holding the plate up to me.

I shook my head and she turned to set the plate down on the opposite table. I couldn't
help turning to look at her back. The nightdress dipped down lower in the back than
it did in the front, showing Mom's unblemished skin and a sexy groove running up the
middle, tracing her spine. I felt myself stir again.

Mom picked up the cheese plate and set it on her lap, shifting closer to me, her legs
almost touching mine. She picked up a finger of cheddar and nibbled on it until it
was gone while we resumed watching the movie. She picked up another piece of cheddar
and nibbled it, then turned to place it on my lips. I took a little bite, not renewing
the cookie game. Mom held her hand a few inches away, watching the screen, waiting.
As soon as I finished chewing, she offered the cheese again, not even looking at me.


As I chewed, she took a small bit herself, and held it in front of her. I looked down
while she was intent on the movie because I suddenly realized the covers had been
laying in her lap since she had started feeding me the cookie so her arm could move.
Though her arm now covered most of her breasts, parts were still visible. I admired
their round, yet still curvy shape, and the way that even the tiniest movement cause
them to jiggle, and how wonderfully erotic that was. Perhaps noticing my attention,
Mom raised the cheese to my lips again and I took another small bite. She returned
it to take another nibble herself, never taking her eyes off the movie and I, for
my part, glanced discreetly at her breasts.

I shifted my position, feigning discomfort just to shake the bed, and her breasts.
I opened my mouth for another bite and Mom dutifully raised the cheese to my lips.
I engulfed the whole thing in my mouth, including the tips of her fingers.

"Hey," she cried, laughing, "I guess I better feed you more often."

I watched as she picked up the last piece of cheese, enjoying the brief absence of
her covering arm from the front of her breasts, allowing me an uninterrupted view
of her cleavage, for the first time seeing how low the neckline of her nightdress
actually plunged between those sexy pieces of human tissue. We shared a few small
bites, as before. I'm sure I was enjoying it far more than Mom since she seemed oblivious
to the tantalizing sexual overtones encompassing that mini meal. When the piece was
short, though, Mom placed it to my lips gingerly. I gulped it in and her fingers too,
closing my lips over them to tug the cheese away.

"Hey," she cried again, "you little bugger," laughing at my prank.

Mom pulled her fingers out, slowly, and wiped them on the covers before returning
to watch the movie. The way her breasts had moved when she laughed was intoxicating.
They sagged enough to stretch down to her belly but had sufficient body not to get
lost in her robe. As the movie progressed, Mom removed the plate from her lap and
moved closer to me, twisting toward me to lay more on her right leg and laying her
head on my left shoulder and chest. She wiggled about trying to find a comfortable
position and this parted her nightdress, just enough that I could see the skin diving
between her breasts, especially on the side of the one bulging out from being squished
against my chest. Mom stretched her arm under my back, and laid her other hand on
my stomach, completing her search for comfort.

Unfortunately, placing her arm on my stomach twisted Mom more toward me, blocking
my view of her breasts. But the warmth of her body next to me separated only by that
thin material more than compensated for this loss. I put my own arm on her shoulder
and eventually began stroking it up to the side of her neck, and toying with her hair.


"Mmmmmm," Mom hugged me. When the pressure of her arm released, her right breast slipped
down to my side, her left taking its place laying on my chest. I continued toying
with her hair and stroking her neck, hoping for more things to happen. What, I don't
know, but we finished the movie like that. The only other thing that happened was
the touch of Mom's feet on mine as she tried to warm them. I didn't find this particularly
erotic until she curled her left insole around my leg and started sliding it slowly
up and down. The movie ended shortly that, which is probably good because my erection
was making it difficult to hold the computer steady and I was afraid Mom would be
angry if she knew what lay underneath.

I was sorry to see Mom turn away and slip out from under the covers. I watched her
get out of bed and turn to pick up her robe, raising it so she could slip her hands
through the sleeves. I was elated when she paused then lowered it, folding it over
her forearm, holding it in front of her, below her breasts.

"Do you have other movies on there?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Show me what you've got in your movie folder," she said, putting her knee up to lean
it on the bed.

I was evasive in my response, "We can play any DVD in here."

"I want to watch one of your movies," she insisted.

I opened the folder, hoping I didn't have anything too embarrassing there. I couldn't
remember because it had been a long time since I'd downloaded a movie, other than
the one we'd just watched.

Mom crawled across the bed as I opened the folder, turning the laptop slightly so
she could see it better. Still, she had to lean forward to see, affording me a tremendous
view of her breasts, jutting against her nightdress as their weight fell forward.
I completely forgot to look at the list of movie files, my attention was riveted on
her chest, and the two nipples stabbing through her nightdress.

I could almost feel the blood draining from my head in a rush to fill my cock. I felt
faint. I finally realized that her nightdress sported a large gap because of her forward
leaning position and I could see her left tit hanging off her chest, the smooth curve
of the bottom as it protruded sending an electric tingle ripping through me.

"Oh, there's lots. What's this one about?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

"That's ... oh, that's ... uh ...," I stammered, starting to blush.

"Probably something you don't want to watch with your mother, right?" Mom laughed
at me.

"Well, uh ...,"

"That's ok. Don't blush." Mom leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "We'll just pick
another one for tomorrow, but don't delete it, don't delete any of them. Promise?"


"I promise."

Mom tousled my hair and gave me another kiss on my cheek. Then she crawled off the
bed, but off the end rather than the side. I had a nice long look at her bum, and
a last look at her breasts as they stretched up against the material when she pulled
her robe on.

"Nighty night," Mom said, like she used to when she tucked me in so long ago.

I dreamt a lot that night and the next day dragged on forever at school. I rushed
home hoping to learn that Dad was off on another business trip, but no such luck.
I hung around in my room, hoping Mom would come downstairs but she didn't so I went
upstairs to watch some TV with her and Dad. After the movie and the late news, Mom
and Dad went to bed. Sulking, I dragged my ass downstairs and went to bed. I couldn't
help fiddling with myself and turned the light back on, dragging my laptop over to
watch that movie Mom had picked out.

Christ, most of the movie were porn movies. Only a few were action flicks, some war
movies and westerns. I was just thinking about deleting some of them, and was trying
to remember which one she had picked out just in case she remembered, when I noticed
her out of the corner of my eye, silently padding on bare feet toward me. She was
carrying a bottle of wine and one glass.

"Are you picking out a movie?" she asked as she neared the bed, stooping over to set
bottle and glass on the bedside table by me. She looked at the screen, still bent
over, and opened her robe, preparing to peel it off her shoulders. She had on a nightie
this time rather than a nightdress and it only covered her to her knees, showing her
nice legs. It sported a diving neckline as well and I wondered if all Mom's night
clothes were like that, or did she wear them for my father, at least in the old days?
It had the same lace border and I could see her skin beneath the material proper,
it was so thin, especially the dark spots surrounding her nipples.

"Isn't it pretty," she asked.

I was stunned. I had been staring, not realizing she had stopped looking at the screen.


"It used to be one of Dad's favorites," she said.

Mom pulled the robe from her shoulders, slipped it off her arms and turned to throw
it on the chair behind her. When she turned back, she pinched the hem mid-way down
her thighs and pulled the material a couple of inches from her legs, then curtsied,
legs held together demurely. It was stunning. Aside from being shorter, the neckline
was actually cut much deeper.

"Fun, isn't it?" her voice tinkled.

I watched closely as she bent to pour herself a glass of wine, enjoying the show.


"You can share with me, can't you?" she asked. "I don't think Dad would appreciate
me encouraging you to drink. For such a partier," she added, "he's sure become a stick-in-the-mud."


Mom waltzed around the end of the bed, and slid under the covers, and immediately
cozied up to sit beside me, fluffing pillows to prop up behind her.

"Pass me the wine before you start."

I passed her the wine and asked her which movie.

"You pick," she replied, sipping her wine.

I chose 'Unforgiven' and started it.

"Can you pour me another glass, honey?" Mom asked, just as Clint and Morgan caught
up to the kid.

I poured the glass and handed it to her.

"Have some," she said. "I insist."

I took a drink.

"More," she said, "you have to catch up to me."

I downed the glass and turned to refill it.

"Oooohhhh, what a man," Mom teased, laughing.

After taking the glass, she said, "Let's watch something else."

I killed the movie. "Which one," I asked, nodding at the list.

"That one," she pointed, selecting the one she'd teased me about last night.

"Mom," I complained.

"Oh, come on. You're grown up now. Don't be a stick-in-the-mud like your Dad. Ooops,"
she cried, covering her mouth with her free hand, "I shouldn't talk so loud."

"Is Dad still awake?" I asked.

"I don't think so. Still we'd better be quiet. Start the movie."

It was a porn movie. It was pretty graphic right from the start, so I stopped it after
a couple of minutes, feeling very awkward.

"Pretty gross, wasn't it," Mom said, though she didn't seem to be put out with me.
"I guess you can't really tell until you download them, can you?"

I shook my head.

"Let's try one of these," she pointed to a couple of titles. "They've got older women
in them, don't they?"

I nodded.

"That's what Mature and MILF mean, isn't it?"

I nodded again.

"See, your Mom isn't a dinosaur."

Mom held the wine glass to my lips. I took a sip and another when she held it there.


"No, wait. What's in this folder?"

Now, I didn't want to look in that folder, but I was stuck. I opened the folder titled
'ms'.

There were a dozen movies in the folder and it was immediately clear they were mom
and son videos. They were all amateur. I hadn't watched them for probably a couple
of years. I tried not to look at Mom but she wasn't looking at me. She seemed fascinated
with the titles.

"This one," she said. "Play this one."

As I opened the file, Mom leaned across me, stretching to grab the wine bottle from
the side table. Her breasts scraped on my chest, reminding me how little she was wearing.
She placed the glass to my lips again. I took a big gulp, draining half the glass.
Mom laughed, perhaps a little nervously, and drained the rest. She leaned forward
to fill it again, pausing to let me have another sip. I took another large gulp, though
not half the glass, and she sat back in the pillows to watch the movie which had now
started.

It was clearly amateur quality. It just showed an older woman and a very young guy,
my age, moving about in a kitchen aimlessly. However, whenever they passed near, he
would touch her, her shoulder, her waist, her ass, the side of her tits.

"Wow," Mom said. "She really is old enough to be his mother. I thought she would be
just an actress acting older, but they look real."

I simply nodded, too freaked out to speak. Mom sipped her wine, watching as the young
guy started to kiss the older woman, his mother I suppose, on her cheek, then her
neck, finally pulling her around for a long bout of french kissing. Belatedly, the
mother and son looked toward the kitchen door, implying someone was there they had
to worry about, but that didn't stop him from working her back until she was pressed
against the counter.

Mom drained her glass and handed it to me. I filled it and handed it back as she sat
staring at the screen. She waved it off, so I drank it and put the glass down. The
guy had her turtle neck pulled up to bare a large set of tits and was squeezing and
rubbing them as he kissed her, once in a while leaning down to take one into his mouth.


I worked myself back in the pillows, scrunching down in the bed. As if on cue, Mom
slid down and turned toward me into the position she had so enjoyably assumed last
night with her arm behind my back. Her head was laying higher on my shoulder and she
had it turned down more to face the screen.

I curled my hand around to stroke her shoulder just as the guy dropped to his knees
in front of his mother, turned to look at the kitchen doorway again, then flipped
her skirt up and dove underneath. Mom's arm tensed behind my back and she slid her
other hand up to rest my stomach, as she had the night before. We watched the guy's
head move underneath the woman's knee length skirt, not needing any explanation of
what he was doing. The woman's head was lolling back in ecstasy, her eyes closed,
her hands on his head holding him in place.

Mom's foot slid on top of my calf and then completely over, her heel pulling against
my leg. I felt her press against my hip. Her heat was incredible, even through her
panties. I could feel Mom's breathing increasing through the pressure of her breasts
on my chest. I lengthened the stroke of my hand on her shoulder, pressing in to flick
my fingers lightly up her neck and around to her throat, then back along her shoulder,
dipping into the hollow below her clavicle, before sliding down her arm, dragging
my fingers up the sensitive backside.

I did this the whole four minutes the guy was licking his mother but I didn't make
my biggest move until he reappeared, stood, turned the woman around and pushed her
forward over the counter, shoved his pants down, bent his knees, and straightened
up in a bold surge between his mother's open legs. He started moving into her vigorously,
right away.

On the outward stroke, I dragged the shoulder of Mom's nightie out, and down over
her arm, pushing it to her elbow. Mom didn't seem to know what I'd done. She was mesmerized
by the action on the screen. On each stroke down Mom's arm, I stretched my fingers
out, trying to drag the front of the nightie down to expose more of her breast. As
it was, the nightie was now barely covering her left tit, its edge hanging just above
her nipple.

Mom pressed harder against my hip as the speaker relayed the sound of the man's pelvis
slapping against the backside of the woman, now leaning flat on the counter as his
paced quickened to cum mode. It wouldn't be long now. What would Mom do when it finished,
and she realized I'd pushed her nightie off her shoulder trying to bare her breast?


Both the man and the woman began to moan loudly. Here it comes, I thought. He had
slowed but was bursting into her with long, hard lunges. Suddenly, his legs straightened,
the muscles tensing with strain as he bulged his cock into her as deep as he could,
lifting her feet right off the floor. He slumped against her, jerking into her every
few seconds until they were finally still. Then they both fixed their clothes and
began doing things in different parts of the kitchen, just before an older man with
silver hair entered the room, speaking cheerily, both of them replying in the same
way.

"Wow," Mom said. "That was something."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Sorry? Don't be sorry, that was great. Is there more?" she asked, just as another
scene started up with a different older woman and younger man.

"You don't have to watch this, Mom."

"I want to. It's more interesting than that other one."

Mom settled into the watch the next scene. The ramp up was much longer than the first,
pull you in scene. The glances, flashes, voyeurism, touches and kisses were much more
subtle, taking place in a number of places and over a longer period of screen life.
It was much more realistic. I tried my darnedest to slip that nightie off her tit
but couldn't manage it. I must have been glued on there. Just as it was about to get
into the more explicit sexual activities, Mom turned her face up to me.

"Can you start this one over, honey?"

I nodded and restarted the scene. Mom kissed my cheek, then rested her head on my
shoulder, watching me. Abruptly, she leaned forward and kissed me on my ear.

"Thank you, sweetie," she whispered, and kissed me again. "I'm so glad you can be
this comfortable with me, to share this with me." She kissed my ear again but this
time it felt like she dipped her tongue in after finishing her kiss, just barely.
It was very arousing. She turned back to the movie.

She watched the preliminary build up with the same intensity as she had the first
time. Her pelvis was warm on my hip and I imagined that it felt damp, not just hot.
I tickled her arm, neck and shoulder the whole time but I gave up on trying to get
the nightie off her breast.

Just as the sex part was about to begin, Mom spoke, "Here comes the action."

She lifted her head from my shoulder and curled her hand up to pinch her nightie between
her fingers. Well, I couldn't get it off anyway I thought. At least she's pretending
it's an accident and not giving me what for. She pulled the nightie, flapping it back
and forth, breaking its clinging hold on her body to let cooler air in. I peeked when
the nightie was lifted away from her breast, momentarily glimpsing it in its bare
state. Mom let it rest after a couple of dozen flaps.

"Whew, this stuff is making me warm."

Mom sank back to rest on my chest and I resumed stroking her arm, shoulder and neck.
Thankfully, and to my surprise, she hadn't pulled the nightie back onto her shoulder.
While Mom concentrated on the movie, I was more interested in caressing her. I diverted
my gaze to enjoy her charms since they might be covered up the next time she rearranged
her nightie. The surprise I found there caused me to lurch against the laptop as my
guy reacted before my brain could finish processing the information impinging on my
retinas.

I hadn't tried to snag Mom's nightie but it had fallen slightly, enough for me to
see the top part of her nipple. The material around the nipple was loose, not tight
like it had been when I was trying to dislodge it. Mom must have loosened it when
she was flapping it around. Craning my neck so I could look over Mom's head, I saw
that the sleeve of the nightie had slipped down to the underside of her elbow. Maybe
I could move it down her forearm. If so, it would loosen on the front and might even
slip down her enough to show her whole nipple.

I stroked a few times the entire length from Mom's neck to her elbow, then returned
just up to her shoulder, focusing between there and her elbow, my fingers caressing
the back of her arm which I considered to be a sensual area. Cautiously, I slid my
hand past her elbow a couple of inches, enough to push the sleeve down her forearm
another inch. Mom was still fascinated by the movie and didn't give any indication
that she was paying attention to what I was doing. The sex on the screen was getting
pretty intense but I was far more excited about Mom than the movie.

I managed to push the nightie along another inch but I couldn't reach farther than
that. The nightie hadn't loosened any more around her breast, showing the same amount
of nipple. Why didn't it just fall off? I was getting frustrated.

Then I had a brilliant idea: pull her arm back. Immediately, I slipped my hand down
to cup her elbow and hugged Mom to me.

"Enjoying the movie?"

"Yes," Mom whispered, her voice low and excited.

Hearing her like that made me even more excited. I released the upward pressure on
her elbow, loosening my hug, but managed to pull back on her arm. I craned my neck
to see. It had moved! The nightie was now a third of the way down her forearm.

I pulled Mom's elbow up again, kissing the top of her head as I hugged her, "I love
you, Mom."

"I love you too, sweetie," Mom replied kind of automatically, her attention still
riveted on the laptop.

That was ok by me. I let her elbow fall and tried to pull her arm back even farther
this time. Stretching to see over her head, I was delighted to find the nightie down
to her wrist. Leaning the other way to check her front, I was disappointed to see
no further progress there. What to do?

The second scene ended with a huge cum followed by intimate cuddling by mother and
son. I thought they were going to start right way again since the mom kept playing
with his largish dick but then it faded out. I grasped Mom's forearm to discourage
her from moving it back onto my stomach but there was no need. She seemed content
to wait patiently for the next scene to start. Maybe she was more than happy for us
to be lost in our own thoughts in this situation.

The new couple was a very attractive boy about my age and a similarly hot mom. I could
physically feel Mom's concentration. She really seemed to like the slow build up,
the first awareness by both mother and son followed by each one intentionally flirting
but not acknowledging what was really going on. In this scene, the first overtly sexual
act happened when the mom, sitting in her robe at the kitchen table reading a magazine
and sipping coffee, asked her sleepy son who had just entered to pour her more coffee.
She was holding the cup out for him to take it but he brought the coffee pot over
to her.

She set the cup down while he poured the coffee slowly into the cup, glancing up to
flash him a brief smile of thanks before looking down again at her magazine. But a
look of shock crossed her face for an instant, and you could see her look down to
check herself before her eyes moved on to the magazine. Her son's attention hadn't
been on the coffee, he was looking down her front, exposed by her open robe and deep
cut, sexy nightie.

Of course, this happened slower than one might have expected in real life to make
sure the audience caught on to the mom's quandary. The next move was clever. Although
she had been drinking her coffee black, the mom asked her son to put some cream in
for her, without raising her eyes. When the son turned to replace the coffee pot and
get some cream from the fridge, which you could hear opening and closing, the mother
slipped her non-coffee hand up and quickly pulled her nightie off and to the side
of her right breast, and then slid her coffee hand over to cover the top of the cup.
The son returned and immediately noticed her bare breast, indicated by a focus on
his face followed by a close-up of her fine feminine specimen. He stood there, waiting
to pour the cream but not saying anything, just staring at his mother's breast. Eventually,
she removed her hand to allow him to pour the cream, but not until further close-ups
showed how rigid her nipple had become. When the son left shortly after without having
any breakfast, presumably to go wank himself as he clearly needed to -- they showed
something large trying to poke through the front of his pajamas, and his mother noticing
it as he walked by -- the mom engaged in behaviors clearly indicating that she was
shocked by her own actions.

It wasn't lost on me that movie-mom had just bared her breast for her son by pulling
her nightie off her breast, something I had been trying to do for half an hour, at
least. Perhaps spurred into action by this, I slid Mom's arm right back out of the
nightie and pulled her hand up to kiss it.

"I love you, Mom."

"So do I dear," Mom's reply was as distracted as the last time I'd told her that a
few minutes ago, her attention on the breakfast scene presumably the next morning.


This time the son picked up his mom's cup as he walked by, filled it and added cream,
then returned to set it down in front of her, asking if she minded if he read along
because it looked interesting. The mom hadn't moved her nightie aside to bare her
breast. The deed was already done. The mom nodded and the son stood ogling her dangling
tit. He sat down after a while, continuing to stare at her, enjoying the sideways
angle with its better appreciation of how much his mother's tit stuck out.

Carefully, I set Mom's hand down, moving it back into its original position resting
on my stomach before I had slipped it out of her nightie. I tried to scrape the nightie
forward in an attempt to dislodge it from her breast -- yes, the stubborn thing still
clung there -- but without success. Nevertheless, Mom's hand was free of the nightie
on her left side and, who knows, when she got up she might not realize it and I would
see her tit hang out just like in the movie.

Then the son in the movie did something that is one of the reasons I'll never forget
that movie. He put his finger on the magazine, tracing along as if he was reading,
moving his finger slowly to the bottom of the page nearest him. His mother was supposedly
reading the other page though the audience realized she was just looking the other
way to let her son ogle her tit. But the bottom of the magazine had been pushed to
the edge of the table, and her robe blocked the bottom few lines of text on the son's
page. When his finger traced down as far as he could see, he used that excuse to pull
the lapel of her robe out of the way but his fingers caught the nightie as well and
dragged it off her one covered breast. Close-ups showed both the mom and the son being
aware that this was happening, but neither acted like they knew.

The son returned his finger to the page to resume tracing the text. A roof shot camera
angle showed his finger approach the bottom of the page where it contacted the mother's
bare breast, and stopped. A long moment followed, the camera remaining on the shot,
before you could see the son's hand flip over so his knuckles lay flat on the magazine
and then slide under his mother's tit, his fingers curling up to close on it. The
mom continued reading as if nothing was happening.

My courage once again buttressed by the make believe world, I moved my hand to Mom's
upper arm, sliding it up and down, fingers curled around her biceps, gently squeezing
and following the curve of her muscle. I changed to an open-handed rub, stretching
my fingers out and, seemingly by accident, allowed my fingertips to catch Mom's nightie
and knock it off her breast. I was ecstatic watching it fall from the height of her
nipple to the floor of her tummy below. Her whole tit was bare to me now, just like
in the movie, and, as in the movie, Mom acted like nothing had happened at all. The
elation in my mind was only surpassed by the tingle that was running up and down my
sperm tube, jolting it into a spear under the laptop instead of a longbow.

On the screen, the fingers began to slowly knead the mom's breast. It was hard to
tell at first if there really was movement, but intense scrutiny confirmed it. Soon,
there was no mistaking it. He was fondling her tit and she was letting him as if it
wasn't happening though clearly she knew. How could I do that? How could I possibly
get away with it? Mom would know. It wasn't reasonable to think that a movie could
be replayed in real life. Or could it?

Of course Mom would know, but did that mean she had to acknowledge it? Couldn't she
pretend it wasn't happening just like in the movie? She'd let me push her nightie
to bare her tit and hadn't reacted at all. Did I really think she didn't know? Come
on, you chickenshit, I thought, she put her tongue in your ear. You can feel her pussy
on your leg, and it's hot. She wants you to do it but she can't let you know, and
maybe she can't admit it if you do, but she'll let you.

It all made sense. I could do it. But I was scared. I don't think I'd been more scared
to do something in all my life. I was still thinking about this and wondering how
I would do it, just grab her? Then, without volition, my hand just slid forward off
her arm and onto her tummy, surprising me. My hand wasn't on her bare skin, it lay
on the nightie I had just pushed off her breast. I was almost in shock at what I had
done and suddenly felt that I must explain myself.

"Mom," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Shhhhh," Mom whispered, her eyes intent on the now active breast massage on the screen.


"I ..."

"Shhhhhh," Mom leaned forward, peering even more intently at the screen.

But the bottom of her breast now brushed the edge of my hand, right at the crux of
my thumb and fingers. Again, without thinking about what I was doing, without intending
to act, I simply turned my hand to cup Mom's breast.

I had my answer. Mom didn't react at all. Her breath seemed to quicken and her hips
pressed harder against my leg, but only for a few seconds. I was holding her breast
and Mom was acting like we were just watching a movie. It was like I was suspended
in a slice of time, Mom watching the video and me just holding her tit.

Then, as if regaining the ability to act, like Tom Hanks recovering from nearby explosions
in Saving Private Ryan, I started to massage Mom's breast just like in the movie.
I began the way the son had started, so you could almost not tell anything was happening,
but I knew. I'm not sure if Mom did but I knew she would in a minute. I lagged behind
the movie.

By the time the son moved his fingers up to pinch and flick his mother's nipple, even
stroke its extended length, it was clear that I was manipulating Mom's breast, my
fingers clutching its sides to pull it into my palm, then squeezing so I could watch
her nipple push out, releasing, and starting over.

Mom loosed a small gasp, whether in reaction to my now over massage, or because the
son was now pinching the mom's nipple between thumb and forefinger and stretching
it up and out over the kitchen table. Or maybe she was gasping in response to a future
event because she knew, as did I, that in less than a minute my fingers would seek
out her nipple and within two it too would be pinched and tugged like that. My cock
straightened again under the laptop and at the same time I felt Mom press herself
harder against my leg.

Like a self fulfilling prophecy, my fingers gradually slipped up to bracket Mom's
nipple, once or twice, then more often, finally staying to tweak it, sometimes pulling
away only to flick by it, bending it over and letting it spring back. I wanted to
take it into my mouth. Why didn't that kid start sucking his mom's tit? Could I get
away with that? Would she let me go that far? No way. She couldn't pretend that wasn't
happening.

Mom's panties suddenly mashed against my leg. I jerked my eyes up to the screen. He
had turned his mom toward him a little, sacrificing pretense, and had taken both tits
into his hands. His eyes were on her legs and the panties peeking out below her nightie.
Keeping up his manipulation of her breasts, the son pushed his knee between his mother's
legs and moved the left one out, opening her legs and her panties to his eyes.

I took that moment to grasp Mom's nipple firmly and tug it away, squeezing it in a
rolling action between thumb and forefinger just like the guy in the movie had done.
He had dropped one hand to quickly flip her nightie up to her hips and returned to
massage both breasts, his eyes, and the close-ups, now on his mom's panties.

Mom's head suddenly swung up and she kissed me, missing my cheek where I think she
intended to kiss me and hitting my jawbone, then quickly shifting up to kiss my ear,
her tongue swirling inside. Just as quickly, she turned back to watch the movie.

She had leaned into me to turn her head up, pulling her breast away from my hand,
but she hadn't twisted back to her original position and I now couldn't get hold of
her tit since it was pressed against my chest. Without pausing or thinking, perhaps
because of my desperate need to regain possession of the breast I had worked so hard
to hold, I simply released the laptop and slid that hand between our chests and gripped
her tit firmly, as if to stop it from slipping away again. Again, there was no acknowledgement
that I was doing anything wrong, and certainly no argument. I just renewed my breast
massage with a fresh hand.

The laptop was rocking precariously on my boner and definitely would have fallen off
my lap but Mom quickly moved her hand to grab it, holding it steady so she could watch,
just in time to see the son drop his right hand from his mother's tit and let it fall
to the kitchen chair between her legs, palm up. The camera zoomed in to show his hand
laying like a large penis pointing to the apex of his mom's legs. The fingers twitched.
Was that Mom that groaned, or the mom on the video?

Mesmerized myself, I didn't really pay attention as my left hand, now free, moved
down Mom's back, outside her nightie but under the cover, down along her spine to
the small of her back, pressing her in toward my leg. The hand in the video spread
its fingers which were close enough that their tips grazed the inside of his mom's
thighs, on that softest part right at the edge of her panties.

It was Mom. At least both. Stronger than a soft moan, more of a groan.

I pulled Mom's nightie up, bunching it in that hollow at the base of her spine and
then let my own fingers splay out, stretching down from where my palm rested at the
top of her buttock, searching and finding the edge of her panties, in the back not
the front, and at the top, not the bottom; well, so to speak.

I couldn't afford to keep lagging much behind the video. When the screen fingers closed
together and the hand moved forward, touching and then sliding under the panties,
I pushed mine down too, finding the gap between the waistband of the panties and the
groove in Mom's ass, half way down her cheeks.

As Mom groaned along with the moans of the mom on the video, in time to the son's
hand moving back and forth under the panties, I pried Mom's panties over her cheeks,
pushing the waistband down to stretch across the bottom of her ass. I gently fondled
her bare cheeks, sliding my hands around, and pressing her against me.

Belatedly thinking about her tit, I realized that I now simply held her nipple in
a gentle squeeze between thumb and finger, alternating between slowly tugging it back
and forth and rolling it between my pincers.

Mom was breathing very quickly now and regularly pulsing her hips against my leg.
She was moaning softly in time with the woman on the video who was now groaning and
rubbing herself on her son's hand, rocking hard enough that I could hear the chair
legs scraping against the floor. The camera was switching between her sex consumed
face to her son's hand vigorously frigging her shimmery green panties. It wasn't going
to be long now, I thought.

That thought had barely bubbled up in my consciousness when the mother came loudly
on the screen, her hand finally directly acknowledging her son as she grasped his
and held it hard to her pussy, her hips bucking furiously against it. At the same
time Mom, though silently, began lunging against my leg and I could feel a sudden
extra dampness as the muscles in her whole body went rigid, releasing after thirty
seconds or so in a long gasp.

She was still.

And so was I. I released her nipple and pulled my hand back and grabbed the laptop
again, knowing my tit massaging was over. My other hand was laying awkwardly on top
of her bare cheeks. I didn't know how to move it without calling attention to it so
I just left it there.

The mom on the video was gazing lovingly at her son. She reached forward to grab the
waistband of his pajamas, pulling it away from his tummy, her other hand slipping
down over his shaft, tugging it free and toward her. Slowly, she began to jack him,
working his cock into a rigid pole. Her hand would pause at the top to twist her palm
around on his head before sliding down his cock. On one upward stroke, she turned
her hand up in a cup and spit in it twice before turning it back down to work her
saliva around on his head, and then down his long, stiff cock.

Mom was watching this as intently as she'd watched the rest of the video, and I was
paying more attention to it than any other part. Her breathing had returned almost
to normal, but was still quicker than usual. Then she did an incredibly erotic thing.


Mom pulled her left hand from under her chest and spit into her palm, twice.

Her hand withdrew then but I felt it a moment later, under the covers, grazing down
the outside of my leg, slipping up over the top of my thigh and then moving higher,
under the laptop, under the covers, on top of my boxer shorts. Her small, soft hand
found my rigid stick, pointing down under the laptop and slid up its length, fingers
scraping up both sides until she was at my root, folding her fingers around me in
a tight grip. Slowly, she started tugging me down, as I had worked her nipple. I sprang
out between the fly of my boxers, and almost came when I felt Mom's warm touch, the
bare skin of her palm, slick with her spit. Mom watched the woman jack her son on
the video, her head laying on my chest, all the while slowly jacking my cock, holding
it pointing down to minimize the movement of the laptop so she could watch the woman
there do the same thing to her son.

I was surprised how long I lasted. Maybe it was my Mom's expertise, keeping me from
coming until it happened on the video. Whatever, that's what happened. The son on
the laptop suddenly spurted all over his mom's tits, belly, panties and legs. That
may have been what finally made me shoot but I think it was something my own mom did,
maybe the light pinching and rubbing just under my head. Anyway, all of a sudden,
I was sperming all down my legs.

"Are you going to join me again for breakfast tomorrow," the movie mom asked, smiling
sweetly at her son.

"I can hardly wait," he replied, smiling back.

Mom, still laying on my chest, paraphrased her video counterpart, "Are we going to
watch more movies tomorrow night?"

"I can hardly wait," I replied.

Mom turned her head up toward me, kissed my cheek, then swirled her warm, wet tongue
in my ear.

"Neither can I," she whispered.

Mom sat up when I closed the laptop and turned to put it on the table. When I turned
back, she was already stepping off the bed. She walked straight to the chair to retrieve
her robe on and leaned forward to pick it up, her dangling breast creating a magic
silhouette for a brief moment. Holding her robe in her hand, one shoulder still free
of her nightie, Mom walked toward the door and was gone, leaving me to wonder if all
of that had really happened.

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

Mary was sitting up in bed reading, waiting for Paul, I guess. I had been so wrapped
up in William's letter I hadn't noticed Paul leave or her return from the shower.
Something was different but I couldn't put my finger on it. Paul wandered in as I
was still scrutinizing the screen trying to figure out what my unconscious mind had
notice that I couldn't see. Something about Mary?

Paul was drying his hair with a towel that was still long enough to cover his front.
He smiled at his mom sitting on the bed, the smile of a man very satisfied with his
life. Suddenly, his hand stopped in mid-rub on his scalp and the smile disappeared.
He took three steps closer to the bed, looking at his mother, or rather past her.


"Mom."

Mary continued reading, ignoring him.

"Mom," Paul said, his tone more urgent.

He was about to speak again when Mary replied. "I know."

"The straps ...," Paul started to comment about the straps that were missing from
the headboard but was again cut off by his mother.

"I know, Paul," Mary responded curtly. "We won't be needing those anymore," she continued
reading her book as she spoke.

"Mom. I'm trying to be more responsible like you want me to, but it's still hard."
Paul paused, then played his card which had worked so well up to now, "I just hope
I slide back, that's all."

Mary looked up at her son, her eyes steady, "I know you're trying, Paul, and I don't
want you to slide back either. That's why you're going to get rid of your comics tomorrow.
You can sell them or give them away, I don't care which, but I want them gone tomorrow.
Those straps are a toy, too, and we don't have room for any of that in this house
anymore." The tone of Mary's voice left little room for argument.

"But I ...,"

"No buts. You're grown up enough now."

"Are you saying you won't ...,"

"No. But not everyday, only once in a while. I'm your mother, and I love you. We'll
have a special relationship all our lives but it's time for you to move on. You have
nothing to worry about. Lots of young women would be pleased with you in bed." Mary
couldn't help glancing down at her son's large knob. "They might be antsy at first
because that's quite a piece of equipment but you're gentle, and now that you've had
a little experience, you'll have the confidence to get them to trust you."

Mary smiled, her tone shifting to a consoling one.

"Now, come to bed." Mary patted the bed beside her. "Tomorrow you can get rid of those
comics and start looking for some lucky young woman to please with that thing."

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

I was elated. Mary was turning off the tap and I was sure it was partly to do with
me.

My elation lasted until the next morning.

I was up early, hoping to have some time with Mary before she started looking after
my dad. She was already in the kitchen finishing her morning coffee, making Dad's
breakfast and preparing his daily medicine when I arrived. We chatted cheerfully for
about twenty minutes while I ate and had coffee. She looked beautiful even though
she wore no makeup. Her complexion was fresh, her cheeks so rosy she could have just
finished a half marathon. We didn't talk about sex, or Paul. I was patient. From what
I'd seen last night, I just had to give her some time but I did confirm our date for
Saturday.

Mary left the kitchen when we heard Mom coming downstairs. They exchanged friendly
greetings as they passed each other. Mom was in a hurry, as usual, drinking her organic
juice and a bowl of mixed fruit before rushing out the door with a coffee to go. Ahhhh,
the harried life of a devoted golfer.

Left alone, I decided to read one letter before leaving for school. In the study,
I started the monitor program, thinking I would review the bit last night when Mary
laid down the law for Paul but evidently there'd been some interesting activity early
the next morning.

I just caught Mary's back as she left the bedroom in her knee length cotton nightgown.
Paul exited the bathroom in his shorts, turned to watch his mother walk away, then
opened the bedside table drawer, retrieving a tube. Holding the waistband of his shorts,
he fished out his bizarre cock and covered the head liberally with lubricating cream
from the tube, let his shorts snap back and tossed the tube back in the drawer, then
followed his mom to the kitchen.

Mary turned her head slightly when she heard her son come in. I was surprised to see
how pale her face looked in contrast to the visage I'd enjoyed at breakfast just fifteen
minutes ago. Maybe she had gone for a run.

"I'm just making you some sandwiches for lunch," Mary said. "Why don't you get us
some coffee?"

"Sure, Mom," Paul answered, walking up to stand behind his mom.

"So we're still on the same page?" Mary asked.

"Absolutely, Mom. I'm getting rid of the comics today. There's just one thing," Paul
added, stepping up immediately behind Mary, placing his hands on her hips, and leaning
his head over her shoulder. "I'm just wondering why you don't want to be with me anymore."


Mary tried to turn around, but Paul held her in place so she leaned back against his
chest instead. Paul kept his feet back so his mom didn't come into contact with the
bulge in front of his shorts. Mary reached over her shoulder to caress his cheek with
one hand.

"Oh, honey. It's not that. It's just that I can't do this every day."

Paul nuzzled his cheek against Mary's. "But Mom, I love you."

"And I love you too, honey, but eventually we'll have to stop altogether when you
find someone. You understand, don't you?"

"I guess so." Paul let his hands slide up Mary's side along her waist, then down past
her hips and back to her waist, pulling her nightgown up several inches. "But, it
will be harder for me to be cool with a girl if I'm all worked up, you know, from
not being close to you."

"I know, dear," Mary said, patting his cheek again. "So, maybe we could be together
once a week or so."

"Ok, Mom." Paul was agreeable. He slid his hands down and up again, caressing her
sides, bringing the nightdress up yet higher. Mary seemed unaware that her upper legs
were being revealed, her head leaning back, close to Paul's nuzzling face. "But I'm
young, Mom. I'm not sure once a week will work for me."

"Oh, Paul. How about every four or five days then?"

"Every three days?" Paul bargained back. His hands slid down and back.

"Ok, but just for a little while and then only once a week."

"And maybe an extra, once in a while?" Paul ran his hands down and up Mary's side
again, bringing her nightgown up so high it just covered her behind.

"Maybe," Mary replied without commitment.

"Like right now?"

"You must be kidding," Mary was surprised. "I have finish to these sandwiches to start
work and start work."

"Ah, Mom. Just let me look at you, then, while you finish." Paul pulled Mary's the
nightgown the rest of the way up to her hips, baring her bottom.

"No, Paul. I've got work to do."

"You can work on your sandwiches, I'm not stopping you."

"Paul, this is childish."

"Please Mom. Just let me look." Paul's voice sounded desperate.

"Oh, for goodness sakes. Go ahead and look then."

Mary's voice hinted at her frustration with him as did her sharp movements as she
resumed making Paul's lunch. Paul watched his mother's behind jiggling to her angry
movements.

"It's not childish, Mom."

"Oh, and what's not childish about it?" Mary angrily spread butter roughly on the
bread.

Paul smiled, clearly enjoying the extra activation of his mom's behind. He said something
else that I couldn't hear but it obviously agitated Mary even more and Paul's smile
grew. He was playing her.

"It isn't childish to watch a woman's behind, Mom, especially if she's got one as
nice as yours. Like it or not, I'm acting like a man now, like you said I should."


Mary couldn't have much argument to that and her body posture showed it, the tension
leaving as her son's logic sunk in.

"You don't know how good you look, Mom. You probably don't know how it makes a man
feel to look at an ass like yours." Paul withdrew one hand and once again fished his
cock out, swirling his hand around its tip, making sure the lubricant was spread evenly
around the bulbous head. He pushed his shorts down to his thighs and returned his
hand to Mary's hip. What was he intending?

"I know how you made me feel," Paul whispered. "I wish you knew how that felt, that
you could have been in my mind when I looked at you last night," he paused, "face
down on the bed with your legs open and your bum raised, before ..."

"Paul," Mary cried, "you shouldn't talk about to me like that. I'm your mother!"

Mary was upset, her hands now gripping the counter, but nevertheless her voice was
rife with excitement.

"I know Mom. You're my mother. You have a gorgeous ass, and last night you pushed
it up to me, just before ..."

"Paul!"

"just before I came inside you from behind."

Mary gasped, and Paul made his move. Bending his knees, he moved forward between Mary's
legs and then straightened. Mary's mouth flew open, as if the doctor had just told
her to say 'Ahhhh' for as long as she could. Paul only moved for a few seconds, and
then stopped. He was in.

He barely moved, letting her acclimatize to the size of his bulbous cock, holding
her hips so she couldn't pull off, though that probably wasn't easy with a cock like
his. But Mary didn't even try. Her mouth closed from its round 'O' but not completely,
and I could see her expelling her breath in a long 'eewuuwww' before sucking it back
in.

"I feel different, don't I Mom?" Paul somehow knew his mom was past arguing the fete
accompli of his entry.

Mary nodded, apparently incapable of speech, or just not wanting to talk.

"No one else feels like this, do they?"

Mary shook her head.

"See Mom. We're made for each other. You feel exquisite, especially this way. Please
don't ever stop me from doing you like this."

Paul's hips started moving in small pulses, Mary's mouth opening with each small thrust.
Paul looked at the counter. Was he going to push her onto the counter, shove her tits
onto the butter covered bread?

He turned his head, swinging his gaze around the kitchen to his left, eyes lighting
on the kitchen table. Would he bend her over there? No. He looked down at the floor.
No. His head swung to the right. Just the stove and the fridge. He centered his head,
initiated a series of rapid shoves that made Mary's head flop around then stopped,
slid his hands under her nightgown and up to grab her tits, ran another series of
quick thrusts, then turned to the right, half carrying his mom ahead of him, impaled
on his cock.

He shuffled Mary toward the stove, his knees slightly bent so she could keep her feet
on the floor to help. As he passed the fridge he turned suddenly and pushed her against
its door, pushing her arms up until she closed her fingers over the top edge of the
door. He reached around her arms then to grasp the top of the fridge on either side,
his arms spread wide, and straightened his legs until Mary's feet left the floor except
for her toes which dangled down, barely scraping the tile.

Paul quickly lunged up on his tip toes, his leg muscles cording with the strain. He
quickly repeated this, panting loudly along with his mother's moans, thigh, arm and
calf muscles rippling, buttocks tensing tight and then relaxing until the next lurch.
The fridge started to rock as he bashed his mom's pussy and tits against the door,
bam, bam, bam.

I thought Mary was trying to pull herself up on the door, away from his brash invasion
but on closer inspection I could see she was actually pushing herself down, trying
to follow his cock as it withdrew before the next onslaught.

She loved it. I could see it. She loved her son's cock.

There was a constant stream of, "ohhhhh, unnnngghh, ohhhhhh, unnnngghhh, oohhhhhh,
unnnggghhh," as Paul hammered her again and again. Not really fast, just steady, hard
thrusts. Bam, bam, bam.

On and on. Mary getting louder and louder, her own face red with exertion. And then,
suddenly, Paul stopped, cold. Mary was shaking on him, her legs quivering. Paul's
knees bent as he pulled himself out. POP, and he stepped back, his cock dangling before
him, wet. Thick, white cum ran down the inside of Mary's thighs, already almost to
her knees, pushing beyond within seconds as more oozed from between her legs.

Watching it, Paul suddenly stepped forward, turned his mom's head sideways and clamped
his mouth on hers for a long kiss. Then he stepped away, turned, and walked out of
the kitchen, leaving Mary still panting and hanging on to the top of the fridge door.


It was over.

I felt empty. School was out for today, I wouldn't be able to concentrate. I needed
something that would take my mind off this. A letter. Not one from William. Too mild.
I needed something with the promise of a good hard mother fuck. Something from Kevin?
Maybe. Jack? Sure. Or Mark.

I searched but didn't find one by these guys and ended up reading a letter from a
new guy named Craig.

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

Hi group. I'm Craig, and my mom's name is Myra. Before I start telling you about us,
let me give you a bit of background. My Dad and Mom have been together for 26 years,
three years of dating with my father trying to convince Mom to marry him, followed
by 23 years of marriage. I'm twenty. My mother stopped working just before I was born
and never went back. They met while both worked at medical supply company, he in management
and she in sales. Dad now runs one of the regional divisions. Looking at my mom, you
immediately get the sense that she was a 'looker'.

My parents seem to operate in separate worlds and pass by each other cordially but
as if they're living in different dimensions. I have always been closer to my mom,
partly because his career has always been my dad's abiding interest. I went to work
there one summer, against my wishes and I think Dad's too. I discovered that my dad
still has a taste for lookers and has no end of attractive and ambitions young women,
especially in sales, willing to provide the fruit. Dad didn't try to argue me out
of quitting after only one month and agree to fund me as if I was working to stay
home and write, upon my mother's insistence.

So I spent my summers at home, writing whatever I felt like, and hanging out with
Mom. Although she never mentioned it, I think Mom knew about Dad's extracurricular
activities and was hurt by it. Very attractive women generally find this kind of thing
harder to handle but Mom didn't seem to care, and was more interested in ensuring
that her life unfolded the way she wished it to.

Anyway, after that first summer, Mom asked me to accompany her to Miami Beach to visit
her elderly parents over the Xmas holidays. Now, I would have much rather stayed home
but felt that I owed Mom and I also didn't want to chance an embarassing encounter
at home with my Dad and a 'guest' and becoming mired in a quandary of whether to keep
it a secret or not. So I left the cold at home for the sunny heat of Miami Beach but
with the dread of living for several weeks in my grandparents stifling apartment and
hearing stories of my toddler years, and my mother's, for the fiftieth time.

As soon as we got on the plane, Mom seemed different, starting with the summery dress
she unveiled when she stuffed her coat in the overhead compartment. I noticed the
glances of several male passengers as she struggled to remove her coat and how they
lingered when she reached up to access the overhead, but she seemed oblivious. She
was in a mood to chat so I put my book into the seat pouch and waited for her to tire.
She didn't, and was still yakking away when we picked up the rental car.

Instead of going straight to her parent's place, Mom stopped for a late lunch and
a drink. I was surprised because her parent's would know what time the plane was due
and how long it should take to drive to their place. Ten minutes late would require
explanations for the delay but Mom insisted on stopping. And that's exactly what happened.


The afternoon and evening were painful. Nan insisted that I sleep on the couch which
was a further pain since they were up by six in the morning. While Mom got to sleep
in, I had to listen to gossip about the other tenants they'd known for thirty years
or more and had been having the same beefs about for all that time, if my memory served
me correctly.

The day passed slowly but fortunately, I was able to read most of the time after Mom
woke up. Gran insisted we go out for dinner which was four in the afternoon, since
he wanted to be home for the news and then bed by eight. At dinner, Mom insisted that
they bring a cot from their storage room for me to sleep on in her room. Thank you,
thank you, I signaled Mom, knowing I too could sleep in the next morning. Mom and
I spent the evening watching a movie after her parents went to bed. It was a very
nice time, Mom and I whispering during commercials in the darkened living room so
as not to disturb Nan and Gran.

After the movie, Mom told me to get changed and into bed and then she would come and
do the same. The cot was across the wall at the end of the bed, and I faced it when
Mom came in to get undressed but she started talking to me as soon as she came in,
complaining she couldn't hear me when I responded to her as she wandered in and out
of the ensuite.

"Turn around, Craig. I can't hear you."

So I did. Mom was still dressed, walking slowly out of the bathroom, her head cocked
to one side as she removed her earing. I was struck by the youthfulness of her figure,
shilhouetted against the light of the bathroom light behind her. There is something
intrinsically feminine about a woman removing her paraphernalia that creates a numb
feeling in your chest if not an erotic sensation elsewhere in your body. I experienced
that feeling watching Mom saunter out, dropping her earing on the table beside the
bed before she sat on the edge of the mattress. She cocked her head the other way
to remove the other earing and placed it beside the other.

Still chatting to me she stood, quickly pulled her dress up to the top of her legs
and deftly slipped her hands up underneath and then down, in one motion sitting as
she brought her pantyhose down to her knees in a well practised movement. Continuing
to talk, Mom raised each foot in turn, pushing her hose down her leg and off her feet.
It was a delicious thing to watch and the practiced efficiency couldn't erase the
feminity of the moment and the realization that this wasn't just my mother but an
attractive, and assured woman. I felt blessed to experience my mother in this casually
intimate fashion.

With the pantyhose caught on the end of her toe, Mom swung her leg to the end of the
bed near me and let it fall to the floor. She glanced up and our eyes met, mine spellbound
and her sparkling with mischievousness.

"Nan used to harp at me all the time when I lived at home, 'How can you live with
stuff all over the floor', it really used to bug her," Mom laughed.

I laughed too, hopefully convincing Mom that it was the discarding of her clothes
on the floor that I was looking at, and not her beautifully curved legs.

Mom stood and reached behind to to unzip her dress. After a feeble attempt to undo
the hook behind her neck, something I'm sure she managed to do all the time, she backed
up to the cot and kneeled down in front of me.

"Can you unhook me, dear?"

I sat up in the cot, released the little hook and waited, catching her by the outside
of her shoulders when she wobbled on her feet.

"Unzip me please."

Holding onto her left shoulder, I grasped the zipper and pulled it slowly down, past
the back of her bra, following her spine to the small of her back.

"Thanks sweetie," Mom said in a soft voice as she struggled to her feet. As she walked
toward the bed, she paused, slipped the dress off one shoulder and then the other
before allowing it to fall, stooping and holding the dress in one hand at knee height.
Each buttock was independently emphasized as she stepped out of the dress and then
tossed it to sprawl carelessly on the chair near by window.

Mom turned her head sideways with a smirk on her face, as if to say 'Take that' to
Nana, but she didn't turn far enough to make eye contact with me before moving slowly
forward wearing just her slip. She paused again in the doorway and lifted the slip
to remove her panties, sliding them down to her knees and then leaning against the
door jamb while she pulled each foot out. The panties were simply dropped on the floor
beside the door.

Mom stepped through the door to the sink and bent over to brush her teeth, stretching
the slip tight across her buttocks so I could see the outline of her cheeks and the
dark line between them. I saw her face in the mirror as she bent down, her eyes briefly
making contact with mine and I blushed, realizing she knew I that had been watching
her and that I was watching her now. Nevertheless, I couldn't look away, noting how
her bottom moved and bulged as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other several
times.

When she finished doing her teeth, Mom started talking again which at least gave me
an excuse to be looking at her as she sauntered back into the room, looking gorgeous
silhouetted against the bathroom light behind her. I tried not to let my eyes roam
over her body but I'm not sure how successful I was with that. Not very, probably.
Mom stopped by her bed and turned back the covers while she chatted away. I was happy
just to listen, nodding and looking at her.

After a minute, Mom paused and said, "Can you cover your eyes for a minute, honey?
I forgot to take my bra off. Just put your hand over your eyes," she added as I began
to turn around.

Covering my eyes with my hand, I managed to peek through my fingers, watching Mom
slide the straps of the slip off her shoulders and push it down past her bra. My hand
was shaking as she unsnapped the bra and pulled it off, her medium sized breasts first
flopping down and then bouncing back, slowly settling into a nice prominent jut from
her chest. It must have felt good to be free because Mom sighed and stretched, arching
her back in a long bend that emphasized the quality of her tits. Relaxing, she reached
down for the straps to pull her slip back into place.

I immediately opened my eyes, catching her with one breast still free for a brief
few seconds as she turned back toward me to pull the strap up on that side.

"Oops," Mom laughed. "Too soon, I guess."

"Sorry Mom," I apologized.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said, walking over to me and bending down to me goodnight,
her breasts falling against the front of her slip, nipples pressing strongly into
the silky fabric.

Mom walked back to turn off the bathroom before getting into bed. She continued to
chat for a long time before finally going to sleep.

I tried to wake up early so I could watch Mom get dressed but when I opened my eyes,
I was alone. I got dress and wandered out to find Nana and Mom having breakfast, both
fully dressed. Gramps was already out for his walk.

We hung around until after lunch and then Mom said she was taking me shopping. When
we got in the elevator, Mom punched the button for the floor just below us. When the
door opened and closed, she flicked the switch to shut if off.

"Here, hold this," she said, handing me her purse and started undoing the buttons
on her blouse. Shocked, I blushed and turned away. Mom explained as she undid the
bottom few buttons on her blouse. "I can't wear a bra around all day in this heat,
but you know Nana."

She pulled her blouse open and undid her bra, then awkwardly twisted and pulled until
she was able to extract the bra. Though I had turned sideways, I still managed to
get a glimpse of her tits, especially after she held her bra out for me to take, allowing
me to turn a little more toward her. By the time she buttoned up the final few buttons,
two few than she'd undone, I was almost facing her square on. Silently, I handed her
the bra and she stuffed it into her purse before turning the elevator back on.

Of course, you know where my attention was for the entire afternoon. Mom dragged me
shopping and tried on lots of clothes, inviting me to pay close attention to how well
each dress, skirt, or blouse fit, a task I felt obliged to do with some degree of
enthusiasm. By the time we went back to Nana and Gramp's, the blood was flowing easily
through my veins. I had spent ours ogling my mom, at her request.

There was a large group of old folks in the lobby and a bunch of them decided to get
in the elevator with us. We were pressed to the back, both of us holding bags of Mom's
finds from the afternoon. I had gone to the middle, holding bags on both sides, and
Mom stepped in right in front of me, moving back as more people crowded in until she
was pressed tight against me.

We must have stood like that for a full minute before someone remembered to push the
buttons. Having been primed by the afternoon's observation activities, it didn't take
long for me to react to the soft feminine pressure from my mother's bottom. There
wasn't anything I could do except hope for lots of raisins to get off on the first
stop so Mom could step ahead and put some space between us.

Of course, only one or two got off on each floor, and we had to repeat the process
of forgetting to start the elevator on its way at each stop. I was sporting a noticeable
boner by the time the third group left. Though there were now four fewer people in
the elevator, Mom hadn't given me anymore room. There were only two old ducks left
by the time our floor was the next stop. Of course, they then reconized Mom and a
little chat ensued. I thought I was done when Mom waved her hands as she talked, moving
her butt around on my front. It was lovely and agonizing at the same time. I didn't
ever want it to stop at the same time my mind was screaming for her to get her ass
off my dick before I soaked us both.

Finally, I said in desparation, "Mom."

"Oh sorry, dear," Mom looked back at me. "I guess we'd better get going." She then
leaned forward, not stepped mind you but leaned forward, to push the button for our
floor, her ass digging against my inflamed member. When the door opened, I squeezed
out from behind Mom and shuffled quickly down to Nana and Gramp's place, knocking
on the door as Mom finally exited the elevator, still chatting to the two old ladies.


"Sorry honey," Mom apologized as she hurried to catch up to me. "They can really get
going, can't they?" Then, looking concerned, she asked, "Did you need to go to the
bathroom?"

As soon as we got in the door, I remembered that Mom wasn't wearing a bra and held
up my bags to block Nana's view of Mom, commenting that Mom really had to go. Mom
realized and I really earned some brownie points keeping my grandparents busy while
she scooted into the guest bedroom to 'fix' herself. I wished I could have been there
to watch.

I won't bore you with details of dinner and the early evening. Suffice it to say that,
despite the long afternoon of watching Mom, I hadn't tired of it and helped myself
to several eyefuls as Mom showed off her new purchases. After my grandparents went
to bed, I settled in to watch some TV but Mom suggested we retire to 'our' room to
read and chat about what to do the next day. I couldn't help running my eyes up and
down her body as she walked in front of me.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, Mom started undoing the dress she had last
put on to show Nana. I sat down on the cot and watched her, forgetting myself and
just being used to doing that all afternoon. I guess it seemed natural to Mom too
because she continued to undress in front of me, casually removing her dress and pantyhose,
talking about this and that, not minding that I wasn't contributing anything more
than the odd nod here and there.

Then an amazing thing happened. Mom went into the bathroom and wandered back in almost
immediately, carrying some skin cream with her. But here's the thing. She slipped
the shoulder straps of her slip off her shoulders, like the night before, but without
first asking me to cover my eyes. As if it was perfectly normal, as if she were standing
in front of Dad, she pulled her slip down to her waist and unsnapped her bra, pulled
it off her breasts and slipped it her arms out of it, and tossed it on the floor behind
her. For a moment, she simply stood in front of me, slip dangling from her waist,
breasts jutting out proudly straight at me. Without any acknowledgement that this
was inappropriate or a mistake, she turned sideways to face more than halfway away
from me, arched her back and stretched so I could see the her right breast lift from
her chest, and sighed, just as she had last night.

Mother fucker.

Slowly straightening up, Mom lifted the slip back into place but before turning
around, she grasped its hem and wiggled her hips, pulling it up to mid-thigh,
slipped her hands underneath, and pulled her panties down, bending over so she
could step out of them. They too were dropped on the floor. Mom was now naked
under the slip, and my cock was even harder than it had been in the elevator,
especially now that that memory popped into my head. The way her cheeks moved
unencumbered under that slip. Fantastic!

I quickly undressed and slipped under the covers in the cot when Mom went in to
brush her teeth. When Mom returned and saw me waiting, she spoke, "No no, Craig,
come sleep here with me. There's lots of room so you don't have to sleep on that
awful cot. Just ruffle the covers so Nana thinks you slept there."

I balked. "Come, come," she hustled me, turning to get into bed herself,
probably thinking I was too shy to let her see me in my boxer shorts. Which I
was, with my boner sticking up through the waistband.

I rushed to the other side, pulled the covers back and backed in turning to lay
face down to hide my erection. Mom plumped her pillows up and sat back to read a
book.

"Aren't you going to read?" she asked, seing me laying face down on the bed.

"No, I'm kind of tired," I answered.

"Tuckered you out, did I?"

"Yes," I replied as Mom began to read, my eyes resting on her slip covered tits
and nipples. Please don't pull up the covers, I thought. I fell asleep.

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

Note from author: I'm re-issuing the more popular segments in this series as
single stories so they can be read conveniently without having to search through
multiple chapters. Let me know if you think that's a good idea.
