URL: http://web.archive.org/web/20130518205708/http://www.literotica.com/s/the-mom-memories-colins-story
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: The Mom Memories: Colin's Story
Tags: The Mom Memories: Colin's Story, alwayswantedto, mom, son, milf, mother, older woman, younger male, reluctant, seduction, mother/son

Summary: Secret group exchanges maternal memories.

This is Colin's story compiled from Chapters 6 and 8.

All characters are 18 years or older.

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

Part 1 from Chapter 6.

Hi. Colin here. So I'm going to tell you about my Mom and I. She was quite a bit younger
than my Dad, being his second wife. He had two kids with his first wife. They divorced
because of his affair with my Mom. I wasn't supposed to know that but my older half
sister told me about it. Mom was eighteen years younger than Dad. She was forty-three
now and still working though my Dad had retired at sixty. He spent more and more time
away fishing with his buddies in their campers.

Mom had short, brown hair with a pretty face. She was slender but not muscular since
she never exercised, at least, not that I'd ever seen. Her arms were soft and white,
with a few freckles sprinkled about, like her face. Her legs, as I found out, were
quite nice. Not like the sculptured stems you seen in magazines, or on some of the
more buff girls at school, but nicely shaped even so.

This I discovered when Mom dug out some old dresses she hadn't worn for years. Dad
had buggered off a few days earlier on yet another camping trip with his friends as
soon the warm weather hit. A few days later, in the heat, Mom complained about not
having anything to wear, and the prices of clothes these days. With Dad being retired,
we were OK but not as pat as we had been, which is why Mom still worked.

Anyway, I came home from school to find her sitting on a lawn chair in a sundress
that was shorter than her normal dresses, riding several inches above the knee. This
was the first time I noticed her thighs, which were normally covered but were now
exposed half way up because of the way she was sitting. I particularly noted how the
fleshy part underneath her leg bulged out.

"Hey Mom," I greeted her as I walked through the screen door into the backyard.

"Hiya," she answered, continuing to read her magazine.

"New dress?" I queried.

"Oh," she put her magazine down, "just something I pulled out of storage. I've got
boxes of these in the attic."

"Well, it's a good thing you're working on your tan, because you'll have white parts
showing for awhile," I remarked, still focusing on the fleshy part of her thighs I
hadn't seen before.

"Don't worry, you brat," she laughed, lowering her magazine, "I won't embarrass you.
I'll only wear them around the house."

I couldn't help notice that the sundress was cut lower in front. Not plunging. It
was a square cut but it showed the tops of Mom's small breasts which were very white
of course. Mom noticed my gaze and followed it down to look at herself.

"I'll get tanned soon enough so you won't hurt your eyes, smarty pants," she laughed
again. "Why don't you make dinner tonight so I can work on my tan?"

She was quite pleased when I agreed to this. Over dinner, I asked her about the boxes
of clothes she'd discovered. Evidently they were just old clothes she used to wear
and had kept. She intended wearing a new outfit everyday, just for the fun of it,
and to stretch her wardrobe out which was in dire need of expansion. Long after dinner,
while I was watching a movie, Mom wandered up the hall from her bedroom wearing a
strange outfit.

"What do you think of this?" she asked, smiling and doing a slow twirl in front of
the TV. She was wearing a lime green pantsuit, or more of a one piece jumpsuit. It
had a hole over her tummy, swept in a cross over her breasts behind and around her
neck, leaving her entire back bare. "Isn't it wild? Can you believe we used to wear
things like this?"

She struck various poses, laughing, then plopped down on the couch beside me after
I agreed it looked pretty weird.

"What are you watching?" she asked, suddenly ignoring her costume. I told her what
had happened and she settled in to watch it with me.

During one set of commercials, when Mom got up to make some hot chocolate, I paid
a little closer attention to her outfit. As she stood and walked away, I noticed that
her butt seemed more clearly defined. This observation floated in my mind without
me really grasping it while I listened to her in the kitchen. Then it dawned on me.
She wasn't wearing anything underneath. There were no discernible panty lines, no
tightening and battening down of carelessly moving parts. I had actually seen the
independent action of each cheek as she walked away. I felt a familiar stirring, although
one that had never been associated with my mother.

"It's on," I called as the movie started. I glanced up from the movie as she walked
slowly back in the room, treading carefully so as not to spill either of the two large
mugs she was carrying. Since she was looking down, keeping a careful eye on her payload,
I had the opportunity to scrutinize her closely. I couldn't see any pantyline from
the front either and though I couldn't see her belly because of the mugs, I could
see the nipples of her breasts which were never visible. She couldn't be wearing a
bra. Of course not, dimwit, I thought. Her back was bare.

"Here, sweetie," she handed me one of the mugs and carefully sat down beside me again,
but a little closer. We watched the movie while we sipped our hot chocolates. Mom
drank hers faster than I since I was either sneaking glances at her, or thinking about
her instead of the movie. When she leaned forward to set her cup on the coffee table
the front of her outfit, held to her only by the loop around her neck, gapped forward
allowing a peak at the sides of her breasts. There was no doubt about it, she wasn't
wearing a bra and there wasn't anything built into it to hold her breasts from falling
against the thin material.

When the next set of commercials started, Mom commented on how well the hot chocolate
had 'Hit the spot' and asked me if I wanted more.

"No," I replied, and quickly added, "Here, have mine. I don't really want it," to
dissuade her leaving. I wanted her to stay next to me.

"Are you sure," she asked, settling back down.

"Absolutely," I assured her, handing the mug to her.

"No, leave it there," she said, indicating that I should leave it on the end table.
Disappointed, I set it back down. Now there was no reason for her to lean forward,
no opportunity for me to glimpse the side of her bare tit through the gap in her suit.


"Oh, I'm so stiff," she groaned as soon as she sat down, stretching her arms up and
leaning forward until her hands rested on the edge of the table, then pushing them
further into the middle.

Wonderful. Her outfit gapped wider than it had when she had reached for her mug. I
could now see more than just the side of her tit, I could see the top sloping down
almost to where her nipple must be. I could feel my cock swell. Unconsciously, as
she started to pull back, I stretched my hand out to rest it on her back, blocking
her retreat. Belatedly realizing the how blatant my action was, I moved my hand across
her shoulders, brushing my fingers lightly across her back. She instantly relaxed,
leaning forward again.

"Oh, that feel's good," she sighed. Encouraged and relieved that my action wasn't
seen for what it was, I continued, tickling her upper back with my fingertips. She
shuddered and shivered as if I was touching very sensitive parts though I was just
tracing her shoulder blades. "Oh, that's lovely," she cried softly.

"Your father used to do this for me," she mentioned a moment later, "for ages, a long
time ago."

"Don't stop," she added as I paused, digesting this hint of intimacy between her and
my father, something I couldn't remember witnessing. I continued tickling her back
as the movie started. She didn't look up to watch. I brought my other hand into play
and let my brushing fingers caress more than tickle.

When the commercials started again, Mom leaned back, collapsing against the couch,
and me, nestling against my side. "Oh god that felt great," she sighed. "Thank you."


"Anytime," I answered.

She looked up and smiled. "Can I have some of your hot chocolate now?"

I picked up the mug and handed it to her.

"No, you do it. My arms are too relaxed."

I held the cup gingerly to her lips. Not because it was hot -- it was surely cold
by now -- but because I was suddenly nervous for some reason. She opened her lips
and I tipped some in, careful not to spill. I tipped it several more times until she
shook her head slightly and then I set it back down. As I twisted back toward her,
she asked, "Will you do my back some more?"

"Sure," I replied, like it was no big deal. Mom stretched her feet out on the couch
and, turning on her stomach, lay her head in my lap. Oh no! She was sure to feel my
bulging crotch. Not to brag, but how could she not notice laying right on it? What
would she think of me?

"Go ahead, sweetheart," came the quiet response, "don't wait for the movie."

I started again, using my left hand to lightly brush across her shoulders. As the
movie progressed, I again brought my other hand into play, moving my left lower on
her back to make room. Mom didn't make a sound except for the odd sharp intake of
breath as I struck a sensitive part, which seemed to be a different spot every time.
Soon I was straying farther and farther, dipping into her sides, running my fingers
along her waist up to the sides of her breasts, eventually letting them press her
flesh where it squished against the couch.

"Dad use to get frisky like that."

Her voice startled me. I stopped, my hands freezing to her skin. "Don't stop," she
instructed. I continued, slowly regaining my 'frisky' ground as I realized she wasn't
mad. I caressed her right through the next set of commercials. Suddenly, she raised
her head. "What's up with the movie?" she asked, but not seeming to expect an answer.
Her body shifted as she craned to see the TV and when she settled back down her head
was farther up my lap, squarely over my cock which was definitely hard.

The shift caused her to lay more on her side now, allowing deeper access to her left
side. I began stroking her as soon as she lay her head back in my lap along the line
of my previous boundary and even straying beyond now that I had access. Except now
there was no physical restraint. I could have slipped my hand right in and taken actual
possession of her breast. I wasn't sure how far I could go, so I proceeded cautiously.
But I did venture further. I moved my right hand up to pull her hair back and caress
the top of her shoulder, sliding down into the hollow of her neck. I let my fingers
stray down the front of her shoulder under the material of her outfit. My left hand
moved up and down her side, slowly, but only along the side of her breast, my fingers
rubbing over her swelling flesh.

Mom never gave any sign that I was doing anything wrong so I continued stroking the
side of her breast until the movie ended while the fingers of my right hand stretched
down from her shoulder to reach onto the swell at the top of her breast. When the
movie ended, she pushed herself up and kissed me on my cheek.

"A little frisky, like your Dad used to be, aren't you?" she remarked, and then kissed
my cheek a few more times, her lips seeming to stick a longer each time. "That was
nice, honey. Thank you. Now it's time for bed."

As she stood, I blurted out, "I'll tickle your back for you again, Mom."

"Really?" she asked in a surprised tone of voice. "Be careful, I'll want you to do
it every night."

"I don't mind," I rushed my assurance.

Mom just smiled, not her usual kind of smile. There was something different about
it. I watched her walk away, marveling at the distinctive pout each cheek made as
her feet took turns hitting the floor. I hoped every outfit was like that one.

That night I wanked myself silly. Drifting off to sleep, I wondered about what had
transpired. Mom had almost let me cop a feel, and made no bones about it. Amazing!


The next day, Mom wore an almost schoolgirl looking outfit -- a simple white blouse
with a plaid, kilt type skirt. The skirt showed her legs well enough, almost to mid-thigh
level, but the blouse was a thick, cotton starchy looking affair. Not revealing at
all. My disappointment was quickly supplanted by interest in the views the kilt offered
when the it split to reveal her upper legs. And though the thick plaid material didn't
reveal the contours of her behind, my memory of the distinctive features of those
supple globes was sufficiently fresh from the evening before to trigger my imagination
each time I had the opportunity to ogle her when she was walking away from me.

So I accepted what I was offered and enjoyed watching her throughout the day. I hoped
the opportunity would arise to 'tickle' her back again, and that she would change
into a more revealing and accessible outfit like she had the night before. But I was
disappointed. Mom didn't change and, though she joined me to watch TV after dinner,
she didn't ask me to tickle her back, or give any indication that she wanted me to.


Scanning the online channel guide just before nine o' clock when she seemed restless
and about to head for bed, I selected a chick flick I knew she'd like rather than
one of the available actioners. Seeing my selection, Mom seemed to settle in to stay.


"I'll watch that with you," she said. "Would you like me to make some hot chocolate?"


"Sure Mom," I answered appreciatively, and then, as if trading favors, offered in
return, "I could tickle your back for you if you like."

"Oh, that would be nice. But you don't have to. I know it was a long time last night.
Are you sure?"

"Yeah Mom. I don't mind at all. It's actually kind of relaxing."

"Great."

By the time the movie started, Mom had returned with two mugs of hot chocolate and
sat next to me on the couch. We sipped our cocoas through the first act, Mom intent
on the movie while I was intent on the pressure of her thigh against mine. She rested
her right arm on the couch behind me and absently toyed with my hair, like she did
when I was little. When she finished her hot chocolate, I offered her mine, placing
it to her lips for a sip. I didn't drink any more but kept raising it to her mouth.
I toyed with the notion of spilling some on her starchy white blouse so she might
change it but chickened out in case it made her angry.

When the mug was empty, I set it down and wiped the traces of chocolate from the corners
of her mouth with my fingers. She continued to watch the movie, not reacting at all,
as if it was the most natural thing for me to do that, rub my fingers on her lips.
She may not have noticed but it was quite arousing for me.

At the top of the hour, as the long set of commercials set it, Mom kissed me on the
cheek, stroking my neck on the other side with her fingers and whispered, "So, are
you going to tickle my back for me?" I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak.

Mom positioned herself as before, laying on her tummy with her head in my lap facing
the TV. I started to run my fingers across her shoulders outside her blouse. After
a couple of minutes, still in the commercials, Mom reached back to tug her blouse
out of her skirt. Since it was so tight around her waist, she had to undo some kind
of snap to loosen her skirt to allow the blouse to come out. She pulled the blouse
half way up her back exposing the groove running along its center.

As the movie started again, I slid my hand left hand under the blouse to tickle her
shoulders, pulling her shirt higher to make room. I quickly discovered, to my disappointment,
that she was wearing a bra. Not a sexy, lacy thing but a normal, thick white thing.
Still, I was able to touch her, running my fingers over her warm flesh. I concentrated
on giving her a real nice, long back tickle right through the next set of commercials.


When the longer set of commercials started at the bottom of the hour, Mom rose up.
Finished already? Oh well, it was nice anyway and I guessed my effort would open the
way to another opportunity when she was wearing something sexier.

"Colin?" she asked, "Would you mind changing into your pajamas? Your jeans are hurting
my face." She raised her fingers to her cheek, indicating a red mark where my jeans
had been rubbing.

"Oh, sorry Mom." I ran upstairs to put my pajamas on in record time. On the way back,
it occurred to me that she could have just grabbed a pillow. My cock swelled at the
thought that she hadn't availed herself of this simple solution. Why? Then I began
to panic as I realized that my erection wouldn't be so easy to hide in my pajamas.
I stopped at the entrance to the living room. Did I have something else to put on?
No. She had asked me to put on my pajamas and I'd already changed and was in the room.
How could I leave? She was laying there, waiting, the movie already started.

I thought about that time I'd had so much too drink that I barfed outside the pub,
trying to get my erection to subside.

"Colin? Come on, the movie's started," Mom glanced at me before turning her eyes back
to the TV.

I moved in slow motion toward her. I could hear my feet padding on the soft carpet
as I walked toward her. She lifted up to let me slip into position and then lay her
head on my lap as soon as I sat down. My cock, damn the thing, lurched up as soon
as I felt her head hit my thighs. She reached back to flip the blouse up on her back
again, indicating that I should continue where I'd left off.

As I slid my hand under her shirt, I noticed that it was looser, very loose, actually.
My cock twitched again as I realized that she must have unbuttoned her blouse to give
my hands more room. Maybe she would turn on her side again, like she had the night
before, allowing me to peek inside her open shirt at her breasts, even if they were
covered by her bra.

Looking down at my hands, I noticed that the waist of her skirt was lower too, showing
the flesh rising up to her buttocks and the beginning of the crevice between her cheeks.
I let my hand stray down to the waistband of her skirt, trailing my fingers along
its edge, over one globe and down into the crack and up onto the other.

"Mmmmmm," Mom sighed.

Twitch, twitch. I made this exciting new trail part of my regular path for the next
few minutes. Mom didn't make any other audible sounds, but I could tell she liked
it by the way her skin responded to my touch as I passed over it. I began dipping
lower into her waist and rubbing her flesh, dragging my fingertips up over the swell
of her hips and onto the border of her buttocks, pressing her flesh. I pulled her
blouse up and brought my right hand into action, tickling her upper back and shoulders.


It was a measure of how fascinated I was with running my fingers over the top of her
buttocks, dipping into the start of her ass crack, that I must have circled her upper
back and shoulders a dozen times before I realized that Mom was no longer wearing
a bra. Holy Christ!

Dumbly, I stared at her back, my hands suddenly frozen, the left stuck at the part
between her cheeks. Mom wriggled. I jerked into motion again slowly widening the circles
of my left hand until my fingers were brushing along the side of her breast. I looked
at her for signs of a negative reaction and was surprised to see that her eyes were
closed. She wasn't even watching the movie.

I kept brushing along her breast, slowing my stroke to pull at the soft flesh there,
trying to bring more of it out, perhaps subconsciously encouraging her to turn more
on her side like the night before so I could touch more of her tit. But she didn't
move. She didn't object to my fingers spending more time by her breast, or even pulling
at it, but she didn't move to make my access easier.

When the commercials started, and her eyes remained closed, I pulled the blouse up
to the top of her shoulders, moving her bent left arm higher to allow it, and laid
her shirt tail over her head, covering her face. I waited for a reaction. There was
none. My cock twitched. I was getting very hard. The only thing keeping it between
my thighs was Mom's head. She had to feel it, to be aware of how aroused I was.

I moved my left hand to the top of her buttock and let my finger lay in the top of
her crack. Nothing. I moved it up to the side of her breast where more of her tit
was now available because her arm had been pried away from her body. I let my hand
take in all the breast flesh available and then probed further with my fingers, blatantly
trying to feel her tit. No reaction. I began to massage her breast, ever pulling on
it, trying to get more of it out into my hand.

I wasn't tickling her back now. This was obvious. I was fondling her breast. I slipped
my hand down to her behind again and pushed my fingers into the furrow between her
cheeks, under the waistband of her skirt, even pushing it lower, until they were firmly
embedded between the fleshy part of her ass, very near her hole. If I could do this,
what else?

I pulled on her shoulder with my right hand, lifting her torso toward me. Mom shifted
her weight toward me, as she'd done the night before, increasing the access to her
breast. The commercials ended at that moment. I pulled the blouse down off her face
a bit so Mom could see if she opened her eyes. She didn't, but she turned her face
up in line with her body, allowing my cock to rise from between my thighs. Gently,
I pressed her face back against my thighs, and my throbbing cock. She submitted to
my pressure. I kept my hand on her cheek for a moment, and she actually turned her
face into my thighs, the corner of her mouth grazing my shaft. My cock lengthened
in response to the heat of her breath.

Since she hadn't opened her eyes to watch the movie, I pulled the blouse over to cover
her face once more, then gently pressed her against my twitching cock. Her head turned
into my thigh, her lips pressing against my swollen, pajama-covered member. Returning
my left hand to her breast, I reached further in and enveloped her small tit completely
in my hand. I just held it, reveling in the feel of her nipple poking into my palm.
I couldn't help subtly pushing my cock up against her face, against her mouth, feeling
it press between her lips.

I didn't knead her tit. I didn't squeeze it, or try to pull on her nipple. I just
held it. I was afraid to break whatever spell we were under, terrified of ruining
this blissful moment. So I just held her wondrous tit in my hand, and pressed my cock
against her face. Looking down at her skirt, I reached down to grasp and undo the
pin holding the kilt together along her legs. Sliding it out of the material, I pulled
it apart to expose her ass, covered now only by her panties, a three inch band stretched
across her cheeks. I let my hand lay on her ass and softly brushed my fingers back
and forth.

Returning to her breast, I held it until the movie ended fifteen minutes later. Mom
let the commercials play out and the next movie start before she stirred. I pulled
her blouse down to cover her back and tugged her skirt over her ass. Then she surprised
me. She turned completely around to face toward me, on her side but leaning over a
little toward her tummy. My cock sprang up when she lifted her head to turn around
but when she set her head down in my lap again she pressed it back into place. It
was an incredible, silent acknowledgement that she was aware of my excited state.


"Did Dad ever tickle your back until you fell asleep?" I asked her, whispering for
some reason.

"No," she whispered back.

"Would you like me to?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I asked, confused that she seemed to be settling in with her head laying
on my engorged cock but indicating that the 'tickling' session was over until tomorrow.


"Yes. Keep tickling me. You've been a good boy. A little frisky, but you haven't gone
too far." She wiggled her body to settle in, and her head as well, which my cock greatly
appreciated.

Hadn't gone too far? She was OK with what I'd done and thought that I hadn't gone
too far? I could feel my cock twitching wildly. What were my limits? Clearly farther,
but how much?

Mom's eyes were closed again. I reached down to pull up her blouse up her back but
stopped, instead grasping her sleeve and pulling it off her right arm. Then I pulled
the blouse up and draped it over her head. Her whole back and side were now exposed.
Her skirt had fallen away from her ass as she had twisted herself around, so her cheeks
were clearly open for my appreciation. Looking down, I could see her breast hanging
down, completely accessible to me. I began brushing the fingertips of my right hand
lightly across her back and reached down to take her tit into my left.

I didn't just hold her tit this time. As I played my fingers across her back, I gently
squeezed and kneaded her tit, pulling on it, letting my fingers slide out to pinch
and tug on her nipple. She didn't object. I could feel and hear her breathing quicken,
but that was it. Rather than being terrified of ruining things, I was now intent on
finding out how far I could go. But I realized that I couldn't leap too far, too fast.
A jarring, desperate move would surely puncture this magical world.

Periodically, I left her tit and strayed down to fondle her ass. But this time I didn't
just brush my fingers across her ass, I cupped her cheeks, though not roughly, and
let my fingers trail up and down her crack, even digging in gently several times.
I kept returning to her tit to play with it for longer periods and always, always,
I kept tickling her upper back, shoulders, and neck with my right hand.

Eventually, it dawned on me to run my fingers over her tummy, that soft, pouting bulge
above the gentle slope leading down to the secret place still covered by her skirt.
I played my fingers all around her navel, tickling her tummy along the loosened waistband
of her skirt. I wasn't denied. There was no sound, no tensing muscles, just the quiet
sound of her breathing.

Cleverly, when I ran my fingers down to play with her ass, I dragged the waistband
of her skirt lower to pull it down in front as well. This worked for a bit but I had
to resort to pulling it down on her hips as well, potentially giving away my true
intention, but I risked it anyway. Again, no objection. Reaching around to her tummy
I was rewarded with greater access, the skirt having pulled down sufficiently far
for me to feel the top of her panties. I could see that more of her panties were visible.
I could see her mound pressing out. I couldn't believe that my cock could get even
harder, but it did.

Mom's skirt had now reached the point where it would shift down on its own without
having to push it. The barest nudge on the waistband now revealed more of Mom's panties.
Soon the waistband was off her hips, almost down to the juncture of her thighs, revealing
her panty covered pussy. I let my fingers 'tickle' across the top of her panties for
the first time, even though I was convinced that this was my barrier, that this would
break the spell, at least for this night.

But still she didn't object. She did nothing. I was stunned. Cautiously, I stroked
my fingers, very lightly, back and forth across her panties, lower and lower, until
I was brushing her pussy, strumming my fingers across her puffy lips. Finally, I just
stopped and cupped her pussy, dipping my long finger into the cleft along its damp
length. Slowly, I pressed my finger into her, and began moving it up and down the
tiniest amount, increasing the length of its stroke at a glacial pace. My finger became
wet as she, barely noticeable, pushed back, forcing her pussy lips further around
my wiggling finger.

Finally, Mom began to make some sounds. Her breathing had quickened to short and rapid,
wheezing breaths that matched my own erratic gasps. She was 'ohhhhing' and 'ahhhhing',
though quietly. I increased the tempo of my fingering, in response, not by my own
volition. Only a moment later, she tensed up incredibly tight, then went into a long
spasm, and finally shuddered to stillness.

I didn't move. Even my right hand on her back was stilled. My hand still cupped her
pussy under her panties, but it didn't move.

Then, Mom's head moved back, still covered by her blouse. My rock hard cock popped
up through my pajamas. Mom's head moved forward again. Then, the most awesome thing.
My cock was enveloped by Mom's warm, wet mouth, sliding way in as her head continued
moving until I felt my tip hit the back of her mouth. My Mom was sucking my cock!
I could hear wet, squishy sounds Back and forth she moved a dozen times until once,
when my tip blunted against her, she kept pressing her head forward until I could
feel my cock shove further into her mouth, her throat. I was in my Mom's throat. My
Mom was deepthroating me!

I shoved my hips up and forward. I couldn't help it. A pent up geyser was coming.
My hips bucked with each spurt. I held Mom's head with both hands, rocking my cock
into her mouth. Even over my own gasps, I could hear her breathing loudly through
her nose. I must have instantly manufactured more come at that sound as I squirted
several more times after that.

Mom stayed still until I subsided, until I was soft. I pulled her skirt up to her
waist and deployed it around to cover her, then pulled her blouse down and pressed
it down to cover her chest. Mom looked up at me, then moved herself up to sit facing
me. She kissed me three times on my cheek, her hands stroking my face and hair.

"I think you got a little too frisky, Colin, but it's my fault for letting you go
too far," she whispered. I said nothing, still too stunned to speak. She kissed me
lightly on my lips, hers just brushing mine, teasingly.

"Would you like to tickle me to sleep tomorrow night," she asked, still in a whisper
though we were the only ones in the house and Dad must be hundreds of miles away by
now, "even if I don't let you get so frisky?"

I nodded.

"Good," she smiled. She kissed me on the mouth, letting her tongue slide along the
length of my closed lips. Just as I belatedly opened them, she broke the kiss and
bounced away, holding her blouse closed with one hand and her skirt with the other
as she quickly walked away and up the stairs.

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

Part 2 from Chapter 8.

The next day, Mom wore one of Dad's thick workshirts and sweat pants. I could hardly
tell, with her slight figure, that there was a woman under there. But, trust me, my
imagination filled in for me through the day. After supper, Mom sent me to the store
to get some movies for us to watch. When I returned, she was dressed in a black suit.
She had on a long, full length, form fitting black dress and a black jacket. Very
elegant, but very conservative as well.

We sat and watched an entire movie, her sipping her wine, and she didn't even take
the jacket off, let alone offer to lay across my lap for a nice 'tickle'. I did get
to see her leg, at least the part that showed through the slit up the side. But not
too far. This was a conservative suit fit for a funeral, so the slit only went to
just above her knee.

I actually tried to get out of watching a second chick flick but Mom insisted. After
it started, Mom paused the movie and stood up.

"Could you take my jacket off and hang it up for me, Colin?"

"Sure Mom." I stood, not enthusiastically, to remove her jacket for her. She unbuttoned
the jacket and opened it to reveal a dress that reached right to her neck. As I pulled
a sleeve down her arm I realized her dress must be sleeveless since her arm was bare.
She turned as I pulled the sleeve off, her back to me, so I could slide the jacket
off her other arm. As she turned, her back was revealed. Numbly, I realized the back
of her dress was completely open. Her back was bared from shoulder to a blunted 'V'
that reached to the crest of her behind providing an unrestricted view of her unblemished
back. I pulled the jacket off her other arm as she turned once again to face me.

"Hang it up carefully, sweetie. I don't want it to get creased."

When I returned from hanging the jacket up in the hall closet, Mom was waiting for
me, smiling.

"Do you like my 'funeral' dress?"

She spun slowly around, letting me gaze once more on the daring dip from her shoulders
through the shallow valley at the base of her spine and up the sweeping rise onto
her buttocks. She paused when her back was directly facing me, arched to emphasize
the curve of her spine and the outline of her bottom as it pushed against the fine
material of her elegant gown. My mother, I realized, was a woman who knew how maximize
enjoyment for her audience and perhaps even thrived on delivering such satisfaction.


Facing me again, she stood with her hip cocked slightly to one side to highlight the
slenderness of her waist and curve of her hips. After a long moment in which I simply
stood there as well, I'm sure with my mouth open, she broke the silence.

"Dance with me before you tickle my back."

She held up her arms, beckoning me toward her delicious figure. I shuffled toward
her, slipping my arms around her waist and onto her back as we began a slow dance
with her arms resting lightly on my shoulders.

"There's no music," I said, on my second turn, "should I put some music on?"

"We don't need music, sweetie, just move with me," she answered, her hands tightening
on my shoulders.

As we moved silently around the living room, I became increasingly comfortable, adapting
my movements to hers, melding with her body as our limbs flowed in unison. When we
'one', Mom turned her face up into my neck and whispered, "Tickle my back while we
dance."

I moved my hands over her skin, up to her shoulders, around in circles, and down her
sides.

"Fingertips," she instructed.

I obeyed, arching my hands so my palms were raised, skittering across her sensitive
flesh with just the tips of all ten digits. I concentrated on giving her the best
back tickle she'd ever had. When I managed to apply the lightest of feather touches,
she squirmed, pressing her front to me. It was such a reward to feel her breasts against
me, or the warm surge of her pelvis, but the greatest reward was the primeval sound
emitting from her throat followed by a more delicate, "that's nice" or "that's lovely"
or best, simply, "ohhhhh".

Not that I minded feeling her body suddenly pulse against me. Although I knew as soon
as she took off her jacket, I could tell from the press of her body that there was
no bra encumbering her breasts and, looking over her shoulder down her back, I couldn't
see any hint of panties either. And I looked hard.

She surprised me when she first raised her lips to kiss my neck. The first was very
brief but those that followed were longer, sustained attachments of her moist lips
to the sensitive skin under my chin and along my throat.

"Mmmmmm," she murmured, "you're so good at this I might have to reward you with a
little friskiness."

I couldn't help the reactionary throb in my groin on hearing that. As if in response,
she added, "But not as frisky as last night," before planting a long, sucking kiss
in the hollow of my neck. When she finished, she whispered, "It's time for you to
tickle me to sleep, young sir."

I swept her up in my arms and headed for the stairs. She gasped, and then giggled.


"Where are you taking me?" she asked, looking at the couch and waving her arm in that
direction. "The movie ..."

"No more chick flicks. We're off to my tickling lair," I announced as I took the first
step up the stairs.

"But I can't fall asleep in your lair," she protested.

"And you can't fall asleep on the couch, either."

I entered her room and carried her to her bed. Gently, I set her down on her feet
but she protested, "No no, I can't stand anymore."

"But your dress, Mom. You don't want it to get wrinkled."

"No, but I think it would be a little too frisky to remove my dress in front of you,
and I can't wait for you to start tickling me again. So lay me down."

I picked Mom up and set her down on her bed. She rolled onto her tummy, ready for
me to tickle her back. I had hoped she would remove her dress and get under the covers,
allowing me to peel them back to tickle her back while she maybe really fell asleep,
but no such luck. Oh, well.

I walked back to the door and dimmed the lights, kicked off my shoes and returned
to the bed. Mom raised her feet up and wiggled them as I approached, "Shoes."

I removed her low-healed black shoes, undoing the thin leather straps that wound around
her ankles and part way up her calves. I didn't hurry, taking the time to caress her
legs after the shoes were off, using my fingertips to trace her muscle line up to
the hollow behind her knees several times before laying her feet gently back on the
bed.

"Some woman is going to be very lucky one day," she remarked.

"I hope I can make you feel like that, Mom."

"I already do," she said.

When I started to climb onto the bed, she cried, "No way, Mister. Not on my bed with
those dirty jeans."

"Oh, sorry Mom. I'll go get changed."

"No. Just take them off."

I was stupefied. She wanted me to undress. But if I was just in my shorts, and she
did look, how could I hide my hardon? I stood, stuck in my quandary until she prompted,
"Come on, I'm not going to look. Just keep your shorts on." She wriggled on the bed,
"Hurry."

Quickly I dropped my jeans and kicked them off, followed by my socks and then my shirt.
I clambered up on the bed, took a few breaths, and ran my fingers up her back. For
the next twenty minutes, I did my level best to regain the reactions I had experienced
while dancing with her. I wished I was still dancing with her. I missed the feel of
her reacting against me. As my arms tired, I lay down beside her, caressing her back
and sides with one hand at a time, switching sides about every five minutes. She seemed
to be in a trance except for her sudden twitches in response to a particular touch,
which I could neither predict nor reproduce regularly. I traced my fingers slowly
along the sides of her breasts, as I had before, but couldn't think of a way to pull
her up onto her side so I could get better access to her breasts like I'd done when
she was laying across my lap.

"You should have got under the covers if you were going to go to sleep," I whispered,
the first words spoken since I started tickling her back. I was hoping to prompt her
into removing her dress to get into bed.

"There's time for sleep later," she laughed. "I warned you. You'll have to work hard
to make me fall asleep."

So this was just a warm up? She was planning on getting into bed? Maybe she's let
me continue tickling her after she changed into a nightie, maybe while I was in the
can or something. She'd surprised me before.

"I'll just undo your dress then, if you're going to bed." I reached up to undo the
snap on the material at the back of her neck, the only part of her dress evident until
the dress reappeared to cover her behind.

"Colin, don't get frisky."

"Oops, too late," I laughed, undoing the snap and laying the ends to each side of
her neck.

"You brat," she laughed in return.

I started tickling her all around her neck, taking extra special care to reward her
for allowing me to undo her dress. It may not have shown me more of her body but it
was huge for me psychologically. While I was leaning close to her shoulder blades,
concentrating on her neck, I suddenly kissed her back. Startled by my impromptu action,
I covered up by raining a number of 'butterfly' kisses across her upper back. Mom
used to give me butterfly kisses when I was little, placing her eye close to me and
fluttering her eyelashes. I loved it and so, apparently, did Mom.

"Oh, that feels wonderful."

Music to my ears. I ran my fluttering lashes all over her back, along her waist and
even along the edge of her dress above her bum. Mom clearly loved it. I began brushing
my lips on her skin as well and tracing the tip of my tongue behind the path blazed
by my eyes. I even traveled down her upper arm. This was also a hit and I included
this in my path.

On one pass at the top of her neck, I reached up to grasp the opened ends of the dress
collar, stretching them out on the bed beside her neck, and then pulling them under
her arms. Mom didn't seem to notice this despite the fact that I had to feed the ends
under each arm to pull them through. On the next pass, I grabbed the ends again and
tugged them downward as I traced a fluttering, kissing line down her spine. Working
around in a circle on her back, I could see that I had pulled the ends down to her
waist, meaning the bodice of her dress must be at least part way pulled off her breasts,
though I couldn't see since she was laying on her tummy.

I began tickling, fluttering and kissing the small of her back and toward the rising
swell of her buttocks. I repositioned myself from her side to straddle her legs, allowing
my chest to rest on her bum as I worked. All the while, I kept steady downward pressure
on the neck straps. When I was done, the straps were beside her hips, and the bodice
must be under her tummy, leaving her breasts completely uncovered. I moved back up
to caress her long neglected neck and shoulders.

"Was it worth it?" she whispered.

"What?"

"Pulling my dress down."

I was caught! I thought she hadn't noticed, that she was too carried away. Was she
going to make me stop? No. She didn't seem angry. She seemed more amused than anything.


To my silence, she said, "You can't see anything, anyway."

"I know." I paused, not sure what to say, then added, "But it was worth it."

By her reaction, I guess that was the right thing to say.

"Just to see what you could get away with?"

"No Mom. I just want to do the best job I can."

"Uh huh. You know, for future reference, you shouldn't try to undress a woman without
kissing her first."

"I thought kissing would be too frisky." I was glad to change the subject.

"Maybe, but undressing without kissing is just plain rude." Mom lifted her right shoulder
up and twisted her face up toward me, smiled, and closed her eyes. "Now give me a
quick kiss to make amends."

With her eyes closed, I chanced a prolonged look down her now exposed chest, marveling
at how sexy her tit looked dangling in the air above the bed, its nipple long and
hard. I guess she was enjoying my ministrations in more ways than one.

"Come on, kiss me. You can sneak looks later." I couldn't fool my mom, even with her
eyes closed. I kissed her, my mind swirling with the implied acceptance in her statement.


It wasn't a long kiss but it was a proper one. She pushed her tongue into my mouth
and accepted mine when I thrust back into hers. All too soon, she flopped back onto
the bed. I could feel my boner almost breaking with the pressure against my shorts.
As I resumed tickling her, I used my free hand to straighten it so it was poking out
the top of my shorts instead of painfully trying to poke out the bottom.

I spent the next fifteen minutes doing the best job I could on Mom's back. Every second
minute, I leaned awkwardly over her shoulder to give her a kiss, each time exchanging
tongues. I think Mom liked kissing because she never broke the kiss first.

The end of that time period was marked by a foray along the edge of the dress just
above her bum. I held her hips while I tried to slide the dress down to free new skin
to caress. I was elated when it slipped down her hips an inch baring enough to show
the very top of her crack. I was further elated when no reprimand about getting too
frisky followed, not even a curt 'Colin'.

Encouraged, I slipped her dress down another inch, eyes fluttering, fingers tickling,
and lips caressing across the top of her butt and around the curve of her hips. Soon,
I had the dress near the crest of her buttocks but at this point my fear of a stop
action command forced me back to the small of her back where I brushed my lips across
the small blonde hairs standing up from her skin. Clearly, this was a hit as Mom's
legs moved about, bending at the knees and slowly stretching out again, again and
again as I circled my face along her waist, up across the rise of her butt, and back
into the hollow of her back.

While skittering across her butt, I noticed something about her long black dress.
It was made of stretchy material. Mom was able to bend her knees despite how tightly
the dress hugged her figure. The writhing of her legs had forced the hem higher and
higher and as I watched her bend her knees again, it rode above her knees. A horny
thought immediately flooded my mind. Instead of trying to pull the dress down over
Mom's prominent cheeks, I could work with her moving legs and push it up her thighs.


The next time she bent her knees, I placed my own knee between hers so she couldn't
close her legs when she straightened them and when she bent her legs open again, I
shifted my knee closer to her open leg. After several iterations of this, her legs
were wide open most of the time, and the dress was riding very high on her thighs.
I made my next move.

"I'm going to tickle your legs for a while Mom," I whispered.

I repositioned myself directly behind her, kneeling on both knees between her parted
legs. I stopped for a moment to admire her open thighs before caressing them with
long, loving, feathery strokes down to the backs of her calves. Steadily, I raised
my end point until I was only stroking the inside of her thighs, from knee to butt,
reaching under her dress to reach the crease at the top of her legs on each side,
near her pussy.

Mom didn't react at all. She simply lay there breathing regularly. On each stroke
up near forbidden skin I pressed her legs outward, pushing her dress ever higher.
Her legs were now splayed wide open, her feet pointing out with the insteps flat on
the mattress.

"Tense your legs, Mom," I whispered softly. "It will make the tickling more intense."


Mom complied silently. I could feel her muscles tense under my fingers. As she went
rigid, I lifted her, pushing my knees under her thighs.

"Use your toes to hold yourself up," I commanded in my soft, whispering voice.

"Stand on your toes," I repeated.

Mom turned her toes straight down and dug them into the mattress. I lowered my lifting
hands, setting her down on the tops of my thighs. I returned my fingertips to her
back and renewed my attack there. As I leaned forward to reach her shoulders, my shorts,
the tip of my cock preceding, pressed against her bum, still partly covered by the
dress. Again, there was no reaction. I moved my hands up and down her back, leaning
forward often to brush my lips on her skin, thrilling at the touch of my knob against
her thinly covered bottom.

Suddenly, I straightened up and slid my hands up and down her legs once more but after
a few strokes I accomplished my real intention -- I slid my shorts down to my knees.
Once more I leaned forward to caress her back, allowing my now completely free and
naked cock to press against her dress. To my delight, as I slid my hands along her
sides, I was able to reach underneath because her raised pelvis was resting on my
thighs. I pushed my hands under onto her tummy and slid them up, running them along
the side of her breasts.

"Mmmmm," Mom purred, "I wondered when you were going to get frisky."

"Haven't I done a good job?" I whispered back. "Shouldn't I be allowed a little friskiness?"


"Yes you have. A wee bit then," she answered.

I didn't waste any time. I leaned forward right then to kiss her, slipping my hands
under to cup her tits in my palms, squeezing gently. I don't think she noticed my
cock poking harder against her butt, hard enough that it slid under her, between her
legs. I tried to kiss her for as long as I could so I could keep feeling her tits
and pressing my cock between her legs. She must have been aware of its presence, but
she didn't object.

When I broke the kiss, I gulped in more air and promptly engaged her in another long
kiss. After that, I pulled back, straightening up to rest my hands on her hips.

"Thanks Mom, that was awesome."

Mom didn't answer. She simply buried her head further into the bed and wiggled her
back, waiting for me to start tickling again.

I slid my hands underneath her legs once more, along her thighs until I reached the
inside of her pelvis on either side of her most secret place, my hands palms up. I
pressed up, lifting her slightly, pulled her back higher on my thighs and lowered
her again. My cock still rested between her legs but now it was further in, still
with no objection.

I looked down at Mom's beautiful back, her dress piled up on her raised ass and her
head buried in the mattress, her legs splayed out widely on the bed. Dropping my hands
to her hips, I slid her dress up and over her bum, pushing it into a pile on her lower
back. Before skittering my hands across her bottom, I admired the shape of her cheeks,
standing up prominently, dented in the sides like an older style corvette.

I loved the look of her ass. I couldn't help leaning down to kiss each cheek, and
then run the tip of my tongue along her crack from the bottom to the top and down
into the hollow of her back.

"Colin," she whispered, barely audible, her voice muffled by the mattress.

Time to back off. I stroked her legs again. Her entire ass was now bare before me,
and she was laying on my bare cock, even though her dress, pinched between, still
separated us. I felt her relax as the 'dangerous' moment passed.

"Come on, Mom," I whispered, my throat dry, trying to keep her mind off my actions,
"stay up on your toes. It's better for tickling."

Mom's legs stiffened again as her toes dug into the mattress, complying with my request.
I stroked her legs for a few moments more and then leaned forward, running my hands
along her waist again before dipping them under to grasp her tits. This time I pinched
her nipples and stretched them toward the mattress. They were already very hard and
long. I pressed my mouth to Mom's and pushed my tongue inside for the longest kiss
of the night, kneading her tits the whole time. The other thing I did was to move
my cock just the slightest bit, back and forth. I tried hard to find that point where
I could rub it against her but not so much that she would have to react.

I guess I found the right spot because when the kiss ended, she didn't say anything
as I lay there except, "I thought you were supposed to be tickling me."

Dutifully, I rose up and began tickling her shoulders once more, but it was only a
moment before my hands again found themselves on her ass. I openly squeezed and rubbed
her cheeks, kneading them like dough. I let my thumbs slide down the inside, poking
underneath to rub the bottom of her pussy lips.

"Colin."

I pulled my hands out and slipped them around to the outside of her hips, safe territory.
She relaxed again. When I slid my hands up on their journey along her sides to her
tits, my allowed area of friskiness, I held onto the hem of her dress. I don't think
Mom noticed the dress sliding up her front, tugging itself free from the pinch hold
between her tummy and my cock. But I did. As I grasped her tits and pinched her nipples,
my cock sent shock waves to my brain in reaction to the warm moist skin it was now
in direct contact with. Mom's pussy lips were right on my very hard, bare cock.

Immediately, I launched into a long kiss but my mind wasn't on her mouth or her exquisitely
elongated nipples, it was on the slippery feel of her pussy as I repeated the illicit,
almost subliminal rubbing of my cock along its length. How could she not feel it?
She must. She must be letting me. I couldn't help rubbing harder at that thought and
then screaming at myself, 'Don't ruin it!'

Finally, I could kiss her no longer. I gulped in air, gasping, excited beyond belief.


"Colin." Mom's voice was only audible because I was only an inch away from her mouth.
It sounded almost desperate, a cry in the dark.

At that moment, still gripping her tits, unconsciously rolling and tugging her nipples,
I pulled my rigid, rigid cock back and pushed it forward, forcing its head into her
pussy. As she gasped loudly, I cried, inanely, "On your toes, Mom ... on your toes,"
and pushed my cock all the way in.

She moaned the whole time I was shoving it in. It couldn't have been long but it seemed
like forever. The warm, wet feel of my shaft running along that slippery, yet clinging
channel. I'll never forget it, or the sound of her as I pushed home for the first
time.

"Push back, push back," I yelled, urging her to resist, seeing her shove her hands
against the headboard.

I pulled back, her body following as she shoved against the headboard, her cunt still
enveloping me. Forward I lunged, her breath expelling with the force of my own shove.
Back and forth we fought, no more talking, breathing heavily, raggedly, moaning and
grunting. I was surprised how long I lasted. I never wanted to stop. It was wonderful.
She was wonderful, the feel of her, thrilling. But finally, I found myself bursting,
emptying, falling on her, forcing her flat on the mattress, gasping on her back.

As I recovered my breath, I kissed her. Many kisses.

"I love you, Mom, I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

Stupidly, I replied, "You're not asleep?"

"Are you kidding?" she answered.

"Does this mean I have to keep tickling?"

"Of course," she laughed.

My cock, still buried deep inside her, began to harden.

"Did I tell you I love you, Mom?"

"Yessss," she whispered, "but I want you to show me again."

"One more tickle from behind, and then I'll do the front, OK?"

"Ok."

"Will you let me sneak a peak then?" I laughed in her ear, "or will that be too frisky?"


"Brat," she said, followed by a little moan as I ground my cock deep into her, rolling
it from side to side. "Stop talking now ... just fuck me ... that's it baby ... ohhhhhh
... fuck me ... unngghhh ... fuck me you little brat."

I just had to get my Dad to go camping even more.

