URL: http://web.archive.org/web/20141121070334/http://www.literotica.com/s/youll-get-used-to-it
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: You'll Get Used to It
Tags: You'll Get Used to It, alwayswantedto, mother son incest, mother son sex, mother, son, milf, reluctant, older woman, younger man, mother/son

Summary: Son shows Mom and friends what to expect at the airport.

All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 or older.

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

"You can't really see that much. They wouldn't allow it if it showed everything."


"They do! Sally saw the monitor when a lady was being screened and she said it was
absolutely horrible. The poor woman would have been traumatized if she knew what they
could see. Sally said she was embarrassed for her."

"Come on, you know how much Sally exaggerates."

"Maybe, but I don't think so this time. She said she'd never go through one of those
scanners, ever!"

The chatter was more excited than usual. It was Mom's turn to host the weekly after-shopping
party. A few of the girl's were planning an excursion to Las Vegas but some were balking
given the recent news about scans and pat-downs. Unable to avoid hearing the conversation
as I came down the stairs, I considered retreating but it was too late. Mrs. Johnson
had seen me. I softened my steps and quickly ducked into the kitchen hoping she wouldn't
put me on the spot: I was training to be a security contractor at the local airport
and she knew it.

"Well, I won't do it. I'll just refuse."

"Oh, Jennifer. Then you won't be able to go."

"We should all refuse. They won't lose that much business just to get their jollies."


"They're professionals, Alice. They're not getting their jollies looking through the
clothes of a bunch of middle-aged women. Anyway, if you refuse, the plane will leave
without you."

"I know, I know. It's just that... it seems so... gross."

There was a mix of laughter and a general consensus that the situation was indeed
distasteful. I slathered butter on the bread and added mayonnaise, hurrying in so
I could make my escape before Mrs. J decided to act upon my presence downstairs and,
just just as importantly, to finish before Mom came in and berated be about using
butter AND mayonnaise.

"You don't have to go through the scans if you don't want to."

That was Mrs. J. Quickly, I gathered up the slices of tomato and spread them over
the bread, sprinkled a liberal dose of salt and pepper, and pressed a second piece
of bread on top. I didn't bother cutting the sandwiches in half. I filled a glass
with orange juice, grabbed the plate, and hurried to the kitchen door, pausing to
listen. I waited for the next burst of excitement to make my escape upstairs.

"I heard the pat-down is even worse than the scan," Mrs. Edelby whined.

Perfect. They were onto the pat-downs. This should provide the turmoil I needed to
sneak away. I waited for Mrs. J to get involved.

"Oh no, they're not as bad as the scans," Mrs. J jumped in. "Sally said..."

I made my break, bolting through the door. My left shoulder bumped against the jamb
and spun me halfway around but I managed to hang onto the plate without losing the
sandwiches and didn't spill a drop of orange juice on Mom's carpet. My eyes turned
into the living room as I swiveled full circle and spun, in a semi-graceful crouch,
to continue up the stairs.

"Mark!" Mrs. J cried. "Mark can tell you better than Sally could. Mark, come and tell
us about these scans. Come on, get in here."

I turned, straightening as I did, and looked at Mom sitting in the far corner, my
eyes pleading my case, but she simply shrugged her shoulders to acknowledge the futility
of resisting Mrs J. I looked forlornly at my sandwich.

"You can eat that in here. Come on, Mark. Tell these girls that the pat-downs aren't
that bad, at least not as horrible as the scans. "

Mrs. J was urgently waving me into the room. I looked harder at Mom but found no savior
there. I was trapped. Visibly shrinking, I made my way into the room and stood before
Mrs. J and Mrs. Edelby on the couch. All six women in the room, except for Mom, started
talking at once. I dipped my head and took a huge bite and looked helplessly over
my shoulder at the stairs.

"Let him eat, let him eat," Mrs. J yelled.

The conversation spun away from me and I continued eating my sandwich. As it went
on, I entertained the slim hope that I would be able to slip away. At one point, that
hope flirted with reality. They were so animated, I actually believed I could get
away. Leaving part of my sandwich uneaten, something I never did, I grabbed my glass
of orange juice and slunk away. I was almost out of the room when Mrs. J bellowed.


"And where do you think you're going?"

I turned part way back but stretched my hand with the glass of orange juice out and
nodded toward the kitchen door.

"You can get that later," Mrs J said. "First tell us how bad the scans really are."


"They're not that bad," I said and turned to make a quick exit.

"Not so fast," Mrs. J yelled. "Come back here and give us the goods, the real goods.
Your poor mother is beside herself worrying about this."

Mom did look uncomfortable, whether about the scans or all the talk about them, I
couldn't tell. I walked back into the room.

"They're really not that bad," I said, looking at Mom.

"Posh," Mrs. Edelby said. "Sally said you can see everything."

"Not everything," I responded defensively.

"They can see enough," Mrs. Yamato in her typically shy voice. She hardly ever spoke
but when she did, in her typically quiet manner, everyone listened.

"See," Mrs. J said, as if no further proof was necessary. "We'll just opt for the
pat-down and be on our way without anyone knowing if or how we shaved that morning."


There was an outburst of raucous laughter.

"Margaret, really!"

"Well," Mrs. J cried. "It's true, isn't it Mark? They can see that, can't they?"

I nodded, blushing profusely amid another bout of horrified laughter. Into the din,
I tried to promote efficiency at the gate.

"But the scans are over in seconds and nobody knows you anyway. It's anonymous."

"Anonymous?" Mrs. J cried indignantly. "We're supposed to not care just because we
don't know the jerk ogling the screen?" She leapt to her feet and threw her arms wide,
thrusting out her breasts and cranking her pelvis forward.

Another uproar ensued. I pictured Mrs. J like that on a screen but without her clothes.
Not a bad sight. I had always had a crush on Mrs. J despite her constant teasing of
me since the day she first babysat me as a little boy. She was the best looking of
Mom's friends. They went to the gym together, ran and cycled together, sometimes holidayed
together, and of course, shopped together. They were best friends which is why Mom
tolerated her good-natured abuse of me. Mom knew she actually loved me and didn't
mean me any harm, and so did I, but she could be darn right embarrassing at times.


Right now, in the glow of everyone's attention, she looked pretty good. Other than
Mom and Mrs. Yamato, she was the only attractive woman in the room. She had the largest
breasts of the three but her hips were a little larger than Mom's and her waist not
quite as narrow. Like Mom, she looked at least five years younger than she really
was. I couldn't tell how old Mrs. Yamato was but she didn't look much older than her
two daughters. She had a very slender figure, almost unisex, except I knew from my
observations on several occasions in summers past that she had surprisingly pert breasts.
I had thought of them many times at night as a side treat while I dreamed of sucking
Mrs. J's Playboy-worthy set.

"Not a chance," Mrs. J stated defiantly, sitting down on the couch. "Ok, Mark. Show
us that the pat-downs are no big deal."

"What?" I said, caught off guard.

"Show us, so these girls don't get all scared and cancel our trip."

I glanced at Mom, who shrugged again. Except for Mrs. Yamato, she was the quietest
one in the room, as usual. It was Mrs. J's show.

"Come on, Janet. Help your son show us that it's no big deal. Let him pat you down
so these scaredy cats don't drop out on us."

Mrs. J was waving Mom to get up up the way she had waved me into the room.

"I can't," Mom finally said. "I'm wearing a skirt and I won't be when we travel."


It was a weak excuse but I was relieved. I turned to make my exit.

"Not so fast, Junior," Mrs. J said. "I'm not wearing a skirt."

Mrs. J stepped over the coffee table and grabbed me before I could make my escape.
It reminded me of the times she used to chase me around and pin me to the ground when
I was little, holding me with the threat of tickling me to death more than actually
tickling me. I was trapped and I knew it. It was best to do what she wanted as quickly
and with as little objection as possible. It was the only way to get away. She pulled
me around and positioned me so we were facing each other, grabbed my glass of orange
juice, and set it down on the coffee table.

"Pat me down," she commanded, holding her arms out and waving her hands down the sides
of her body which was clad in a form-fitting, flowered blouse and tight, black stretch
pants.

The room filled with giggles. Even Mrs. Yamato tittered and Mom smiled, pushing herself
higher in the corner chair and tucking her feet under her legs to get comfortable
for the show. I shrugged and extended my arms to put them on Mrs. J's shoulders. I
slid my hands over to her neck and back, then over and down her outer arms.

"Ohhhh, I didn't know it was romantic," one of the women said, triggering another
round of titters.

I dipped under Mrs. J's hands and slipped my inside, ran up the inside of her arms
to her armpits, then closed onto her sides and traced the sides of her body, being
careful not to exert too much pressure — far less, in fact, than the training specified
— but still registered the bulging swell of her breasts before dipping into her waist
and curving out to finish on her hips. I stepped back.

"There. Do the same for the legs and that's about it," I said.

"Bullshit, Mister," Mrs. J said. "Do the rest so the girls can see the whole thing."


I withered under Mrs. J's glare and stepped forward to comply. I reached around to
her back and slid my hands over her shoulders and up between her shoulder blades.
I was relieved that Mom was sitting behind me to the right so she couldn't see my
chest pressing against Mrs. J's boobs. The other women were watching my hands on her
back but I was more aware of what was going on in front and, judging by the slight
smirk on Mrs. J's face, so was she. I traced her spine through her blouse to the small
of her back. She arched away from the press of my fingers, pushing her breasts into
my chest. The smirk widened, and I blushed as my hands parted to slide out to Mrs.
J's hips.

I dropped to a crouch and turned my head away, purportedly to pat down Mrs. J's legs,
but actually to hide my reddening face. I ran my hands down the outside of Mrs. J's
legs and around her ankles, slid them up the inside of her legs, then down the front
and up the back. I refrained from exploring the area near her crotch as we were instructed
to do in class. I stood up.

"There," I said. "Nothing to it."

"You forgot to do my bottom. The girls know about that, don't you girls?"

Mrs. J joined the other women in another round of giggles. I noticed that a tense
look had replaced Mom's smile and Mrs. Yamato's greater concentration was betrayed
by the tip of her tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth. I was surprised
by her intense interest as I would have expected her to be looking the other way.
I curled my arms around Mrs. J and put my hands at the base of her back.

"Don't be shy," she said, grabbing my forearms and pushing my hands down onto the
top of her buttocks.

I pushed down, letting my hands follow the curve of Mrs. J's ample butt which was
larger than Mom's but undeniably feminine. I couldn't help wishing I could do this
for real and knew I would be thinking about that tonight. As my hands slipped down
to cup the lower half, Mrs. J pushed her ass back to fill them. There was a collective
sigh and then silence as my training kicked in and I pushed my hands between her legs
before pulling them out and withdrawing along the crease between her buttocks and
legs.

"Done," I said.

"Almost," Mrs. J said breathily.

"Yeah," Mrs. Edelby cried. "I saw one on the news and they even check under your breasts.
It's hard to believe they do that right here in America!"

"Go ahead, Mark. Show them," Mrs. J pushed her breasts forward.

"I think we've got the idea," Mom suddenly spoke up, unfolding her legs and rising
from the chair. "Remember girls, these pat-downs are done by other women. You won't
be subjected to such an intimate search by young men."

"Well, that's a big disappointment," quiet, demure Mrs. Yamato's comment surprised
everyone, causing a huge burst of laughter.

Mom nodded to me and I fled upstairs amid the uproar. I hit the stairs at a half run
which made me immediately aware that I had an erection. I hoped it hadn't been noticeable
and couldn't help wondering if some of the laughter had been at my expense.

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

I finished my training by ten on Thursday morning and was sent home. I was on-call
should the TSA need our company's assistance at the local airport. Mom wasn't home
since she worked mornings three days a week. I had already changed into sweatpants
and was just getting into an online porn video when the doorbell rang. I ran downstairs,
belatedly thinking about my half-stiff pecker as I bounded down the stairs. I could
see through the door's window slits that it was Mrs. J so before opening it I smoothed
my palm over my front to make sure I wasn't obvious. I knew if there was any sign
there Mrs. J would make a crack about it.

"Hey, Mrs. J," I cried a little too enthusiastically. "Mom's not home."

I held the door open but kept my hand on its edge, blocking her entrance. I wanted
her to leave quickly so I could finish watching the video before Mom got home. It
didn't do any good. Mrs. J brushed past me, my arm bouncing off her well-endowed chest
as she went by.

"I never remember," she said. "Well, I'll just leave these."

She walked into the kitchen carrying some brochures, presumably about their upcoming
trip. I left the door and dipped my head in frustration before following her. She
tossed the brochures onto the kitchen table and turned to face me. I was about to
enter the room but changed my mind and stepped back, indicating the still open door
with a sweep of my arm.

"When does she get home?"

"Not for a while," I stated firmly, hoping to convince her by the strength of my statement
that it wasn't worth waiting. There was a time when I ached to spend time with Mrs.
J but her flirting had long since become tedious. All it did was get me worked up
and I had more satisfying material for that waiting for me upstairs.

"Oh darn," Mrs. J sighed heavily, causing her breasts to rise and fall sharply under
the thin sweater she was wearing.

I immediately began having second thoughts and couldn't stop my eyes from roaming
down her front, over the skirt that ended four inches above her knees and the nice
legs below that led to her low-heeled sandals. Mrs. J smiled, the semi-amused smile
of a woman who knows she's being appreciated and is pleased by it.

Oh know, I thought. Here we go again. Now I won't get rid of her until Mom comes home.


Mrs. J started to leave, walking past me with an exaggerated, sexy walk. Looking at
her ample behind moving underneath the thin skirt, I experienced a twinge of regret
that she was leaving so quickly. How many times had I dreamed about standing behind
that luscious ass, pulling up her skirt, and yanking her panties down? Too many, but
a glance at the front of my sweat pants confirmed the dream was still alive. Maybe,
after she was gone, I'd pound one off in her honor before returning to the video.


Mrs. J pushed the door closed, turned around, and leaned against it.

"So, I guess we have time then," she purred in a sexy voice, putting her hands behind
herself and pushing her pelvis forward.

The skin over my whole body tightened and I found it hard to breathe.

"Time for what?" I asked, surprised I got the words around a tongue that suddenly
seemed to fill my mouth.

"For you to answer a few questions?"

"About what?" I asked, unable to keep my eyes on her face as she shifted her feet.


"You know, about those pat-downs."

"Oh," I replied, nervously. "Mom will be home soon."

"I thought she wasn't coming home for a while," Mrs. J teased.

I pulled my eyes up to her face just as she met mine. I blushed and felt the tingle
in my groin as well but managed with a struggle not to look down at myself, knowing
I was reacting to her but unsure about whether my sweatpants showed it. I had to get
rid of her soon.

"Not to worry," Mrs. J said. "It will only take a minute." She lifted one foot from
the floor and held it out toward me, still leaning back against the door. "I forgot
about how fussy Janet is about her floors. Can you help me with this, they're such
a bother to get off." Mrs. J smiled pleadingly.

There was no reason she couldn't take her own shoe off but I ducked down to her grasp
her shoe anyway. I was happy to bend over to cover my wayward genitals before they
made their presence known, even through the thick sweatpants. Maybe by the time I
got her shoes off, I could get myself under control. I fumbled with the straps around
Mrs. J's ankles and had to hold her leg still to get the shoe off. Mrs. J offered
me her other foot. Further tingles confirmed I was a failure at getting myself under
control. As soon as the second sandal hit the floor, Mrs. J put her hand on my shoulders,
holding me in place looking between her knees.

"I was wondering, Mark, how you guys check a woman wearing a skirt. I mean, how do
you find out if a woman is hiding something under there?" To make her point, Mrs.
J slipped her right hand off her shoulder and rested it on her thigh briefly before
tugging the skirt up a couple of inches, lifting her knee as she did so and putting
her foot against the door. I looked into the wider space between her legs and then
tilted my head to look up at her.

"If a woman is wearing a dress, we push it between her legs and then proceed as if
she was wearing pants, at least, the women security officers do." I looked up at her
expectantly, awaiting approval of my explanation.

Mrs. J lifted her hand off my left shoulder, and pulled her skirt up even higher on
her left thigh. She smiled at me and said in a skeptical voice, "Mark, Mark. Do you
really think that would stop a woman who has something to hide?"

I looked up at her dumbly and she raised her eyes before glancing under her raised
skirt. I tilted my head forward and looked directly between her thighs. Mrs. J was
wearing knee-high stockings held up by little white straps that disappeared under
her skirt.

"Do you really think a quick pat-down could reveal what's hidden under a woman's skirt?"


My attention was riveted on Mrs. J's sexy thighs, especially the soft white skin above
the stockings. I had only dimly heard her question and belatedly shook my head.

"We could stuff all sorts of stuff up there."

I nodded and ducked my head closer to peek higher under her skirt, briefly rewarded
with a glimpse of her white panties before I came to my senses and pulled my head
back. Mrs. J had once before lifted her skirt to give me a flash of her legs but she
had never held it up so I could review them at my leisure. I found it hard to speak.


"What do you think, Mark?" Mrs. J purred. "Do you think I've got anything to hide?"


Mrs. J's hands moved, pulling her skirt higher. I almost choked when her panties burst
into view again, stretched tight over her pussy. Mrs. J lifted her right knee higher
and pushed it outward, widening the gap between her legs and pulling the edge of her
panties away from the little hollow there which allowed a few strands of pussy hair
to poke through. Right then, the only thing I was aware of outside of her skirt was
my cock lengthening along my own leg. Mrs. J pushed against the door with her foot,
urging her pelvis forward and my nose was suddenly less than an inch from the most
aromatic treat it had ever experienced. I inhaled deeply.

"Is that part of your training, Mark?" she asked, laughing softly.

I had no answer. At that moment, all I wanted to do was bury my face in Mrs. J's panties
but I was frozen with fear, fear that even while presented with such an obvious invitation,
acting on impulse would lead to an unrecoverable embarrassment for me, Mrs. J, and
my mother. I was still kneeling like a statue, an inch from Mrs. J's delicious smelling
muff when the tires on Mom's car announced her early arrival home.

"Mom's home," I mumbled automatically.

Mrs. J pushed herself away from the door, 'accidentally' bumping her panties into
my nose. She cried, "Woops a'daisy", but twisted her pelvis, grinding her scent into
my face, before pushing me back onto my heels. Mrs. J smoothed her skirt over her
legs as I stumbled to my feet. Quickly, she slipped her feet into her sandals and
expertly buckled them up. Panicked over Mom's imminent arrival, I was nevertheless
unable to do anything but stand there looking from the door, which would any instant
burst open, and Mrs. J who was regarding me with a flushed but amused face.

"Perhaps," she paused to let loose a gentle laugh, "you should go upstairs before
your mother comes in."

Mrs. J looked down at my sweatpants. I followed her eyes and was horrified to find
them sticking straight out from my groin, barely covering an enormous erection. I
looked up into her eyes, my surprise evident as if in apology.

"It's alright, Mark, but perhaps you should call me Margaret from now on, at least
when we're alone."

Mom's heels clicked on the sidewalk. I turned and ran upstairs.

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

I was waiting downstairs the next morning, eager for Mrs. J's arrival. Mom had chided
me the day before about rudely leaving Mrs. J downstairs on her own until she came
in the house. She looked at me oddly when I became flustered trying to defend myself
and scrutinized me even closer when I blushed profusely. I escaped to my room with
Mom watching me all the way up the stairs.

I had decided to wear the same sweatpants. In my mind, Mrs. J and I would immediately
continue from where we left off. As soon as she came in the door, she would lean back
for me to remove her shoes whereupon I would slide my hands up her legs while she
raised her skirt. This time, I wouldn't wait for her to push her panties into my face,
I'd firmly plunge my nose into her muff while she tugged my head into place and, while
she was momentarily confused by desire, I'd drag her panties off her ass, then pull
them down her legs and off her bare feet. Rising, I would kiss her feverishly, grasping
her big tits and impaling her with my love pole which, somehow having been magically
relieved of my sweatpants, would slide easily into her silky wetness to lift her completely
off her feet, moaning with unrestrained ecstasy impaled upon my supercock. I flung
the door open when the bell rang, instantly forgetting my well-planned, casual welcome.


"Oh, Mrs. Yamato. Uh, Hi."

"Hello, Mark."

"Uh, Mom's not here, she's still at work," I said, offering no explanation for why
I was flushed and seemingly out of breath.

Mrs. Yamato looked at me, a little surprised, and said, "That's ok, Mark. It's actually
you I wanted to see."

"Oh," I replied, managing to look even more surprised than I already was.

"May I come in, please?"

"Oh, certainly, of course." I held the door open, closing it after she came in and
stepped back. A brief image of Mrs. J, pinned against the door with her legs held
high and wide to accommodate me, flashed through my mind. It must have been there
for more of flash.

"Mark? Are you ok?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, sure."

"Would it be better if I came back another time?"

Perfect, here was an out. I could get rid of her and there would still be time to
realize my fantasy if Mrs. J came soon.

"No, no. I'm ok." I couldn't believe those words came out of my mouth. "What can I
do for you?"

"Well, I...," Mrs. Yamato looked hesitant. "I was thinking... well, I was... wondering..."


"About the pat-downs," I finished the sentence for her.

Mrs. Yamato laughed apologetically and ducked her head. "Yes, yes."

I turned and walked into the kitchen.

"Mrs. J dropped off some information for Mom yesterday. Maybe the answers will be
there?"

Mrs. Yamato followed me into the kitchen and leaned over to look at the paperwork
spread over the table. While she was looking, I looked her over. She was a very pretty,
oriental woman with a nice, if petite, figure. She was short but had great legs and
small perky breasts which, leaning over the way she was now, pressed against the white
blouse she was wearing atop her simple black skirt. In my imagination, Mrs. Yamato
wasn't wearing a bra. That, and the expectation I had been carrying all morning, made
me suddenly want Mrs. Yamato. She was always so nice, not teasing like Mrs. J. Would
she be so giving, if given the opportunity, and want me to call her by her first name
too? What was it? I couldn't remember, though I'd heard Mom say it a hundred times.
I found myself hoping Mrs. J wouldn't come to the door.

Mrs. Yamato straightened up and turned to face me.

"I'm sorry, this information doesn't answer my question," she said.

"Maybe I can help," I responded confidently, buoyed by the episode with Mrs. J.

"It's about the pat-down," she started, demurely looking down.

"Yes," I encouraged her to go on, finding myself impatient to get on with it, my mind
already leaping ahead to where I hoped things might go.

"I was worrying... uh, I mean..." Mrs. Yamato stammered.

"About getting a pat-down when you're wearing a skirt," I suggested, extrapolating
from my experience with Mrs. J and letting my gaze fall obviously down her slender
figure.

"Oh, no. No, no," she laughed nervously. "I was more concerned with...," she paused,
then curled her arms upward by her sides, fingers pointing inward. "Um... do they
really need to...," She was looking at me expectantly.

I couldn't see if she was blushing but I did. "Oh, I see, you mean... will they still,
uh, search you if you're... not big," I finished awkwardly.

"Yes, yes. That's it," Mrs. Yamato said.

I could see now that she was blushing, or at least, I sensed she was embarrassed.


"Yes, they will. They have to, it's part of the procedure."

"Oh," she looked quite disappointed. "Even if...," her voice trailed off.

"It should be quick," I said, then felt like an idiot making fun of her small breasts.
I mean, they were small but looking at them now, I sure wouldn't mind taking them
in hand.

"Could you... show me how they do it?"

"Show you?"

Mrs. Yamato nodded. "Please," she said.

"Well, sure... but it will be pretty much the way I showed you with Mrs. J," I said.
I couldn't believe was trying to dissuade her and mentally kicked myself for it.

"It may be more than that, won't it?" she asked, looking to me for confirmation.

"Yes, yes it will," I admitted, lying through my teeth.

I wasn't going to look this gift horse in the mouth again. Thankfully, Mrs. Yamato
was lifting her arms up, readying herself for my inspection. Man, this trip of theirs
and my new job was a windfall for me. I tried to contain my excitement as I placed
my hands on Mrs. Yamato's shoulders. I paused while she looked down to shuffle her
feet together, then looked up at me and smiled, as if to say, 'Ready'."

I moved my hands over to her shoulders and along her arms, curling my fingers around
to feel her limbs more than was necessary or advised according to my training. Reaching
the end of her arms, I flipped my hands over and almost caressed my way under her
fingers and palms, then along her lower and upper arms, stopping underneath with my
hands pressed to her sides. She was so tiny, my hands covered at least a quarter of
her torso. I stooped as I lowered my hands, closely following the curve of her wonderful
little figure. When I reached her slender hips, I knelt on the floor.

"Please to just do up top," Mrs. Yamato pleaded, in her nervousness reverting to a
mode of speech she probably hadn't used since she was a girl.

"I can't," I said. "This is the way it's done."

Mrs. Yamato nodded and looked up and to her left, as if resigned. A thrill zinged
through me. I suddenly loved her submissive culture and vowed to read more about it.
I felt that I could take some poetic license with this inspection. Excitement coursed
through my veins as my hands slid down Mrs. Yamato's outer thighs and onto her legs
which I noticed for the first time were not covered with pantyhose or nylons. A delicious
twinge flicked my dick.

I moved my hands between Mrs. Yamato's ankles, which were tightly held together, and
pressed outward. Dutifully, she moved her feet apart and waited for me to proceed.
I paused to relish the feeling of anticipation, then slowly slid my fingers up the
back of her calves, stopping over the tender flesh behind her knees before descending
and starting back up on the inside of her legs which I followed all the way until
I hit the hem of her dress.

I paused for about ten seconds while I struggled with myself. Should I do it properly,
pushing her skirt between her legs which this one was sufficiently loose to do so,
or do what I wanted to do and slide my hands up the inside of her thighs underneath
her skirt, which was warranted if a woman was wearing a tight skirt. Warranted, of
course, because the searcher was supposed to be a woman. I could sense Mrs. Yamato
struggling to control her breathing. Was she nervous, or excited like I was?

I pushed upward, sliding my hands, inappropriately palm on flesh, up the inside of
Mrs. Yamato's thighs, under her skirt. I felt her take a deep breath and hold it as
my hands crossed the halfway point. I slowed my progress as her slender legs thickened
— partly wanting to relish the feeling of nearing her panties and partly being afraid
of her reaction to my audacious proximity. I ventured on and stopped when the edge
of my hands were blocked by a warm, silky material. I was actually touching her panties!


Quickly, before she objected I dropped my hands, but slowly, very slowly, down the
inside of her thighs, the way I had come. God, I was hot for her. I thought my hands
were trembling but when they emerged from her skirt I saw they were steady. I realized
then that it was Mrs. Yamato's legs that were shaking.

I stood up and placed my hands on her waist. Mrs. Yamato was still looking up and
away but her eyes were now closed. I slid my hands around to her back and pressed
my palms firmly against her flesh, moving them slowly all over her back. I was disappointed
to discover that she was wearing a bra, a delicate affair by the feel of it, but still
a bra. I guess it didn't have to be too substantial to support her assets. Even pressing
as firm as I was, Mrs. Yamato's small breasts didn't reach my chest as Mrs. J's had
done.

Looking down at her upturned face with closed eyes, I felt in control. I had gone
beyond the pale feeling her legs up like that but she had accepted it. How far could
I go here? I looked down at her small breasts and wondered if I could get away with
putting my hand back underneath her skirt. No, I thought. I suppose not.

I dropped my hands onto her tiny ass and blatantly cupped her little buns. She didn't
say a word, not even a single sound of protest. I pulled my hands around and pressed
them against her belly, moving gently over her tummy. It was then I made the outrageous
suggestion.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Yamato, but for small breasted women, they really search well for
items that may be hidden inside a bra," I said, surprised by my own blunt observation.


She answered me, her eyes still squeezed shut, "That's what I was afraid of. Please
show me what they do."

Fantastic! I moved my hands up and covered her small tits completely in my palms.


"They'll check for hideouts, like this," I whispered in a thick voice, twisting my
hands and sucking in my breath when I felt something hard against the softness of
each tit. Had she hidden something inside her bra for me to find? Had she come prepared
to play games, like Mrs. J?

"What's this then?" I asked, squashing her breasts with my shaking hands. I flipped
my hands over and explored her with my fingers, confirming the presence of two longish
lumps, like bullets, bent sideways underneath her blouse. I walked Mrs. Yamato backwards
until she was pressed against the fridge. "You can't sneak anything through like this,
Mrs. Yamato," I said, suddenly angry that she was using me as a test run to get something
through security. I flipped my fingers up and down across the twin lumps, pushing
her tits up and down, now unconcerned about such a flagrant invasion of her person.


"What's this then," I repeated, incredibly unbuttoning two buttons on her blouse and
pushing my hands inside with such aggression that I forced the next one to part as
well. Mrs. Yamato didn't say anything but she looked very flustered, whether by my
incredible violation or from fear that I was on to her scheme. I was mauling her bra
now and could feel the distinctive form of the long, hard capsules. They were long
enough to be pistol bullets but that didn't make any sense. How would she get a gun
on board? Could it be a plastic one, like I'd seen in a movie once? No, they were
probably vials filled with liquid, exactly what they were so worried about now.

I realized that Mrs. Yamato had been mumbling something but her voice was rising now,
"That's it," she cried. "That's the problem!" She was crying, with real tears streaming
from her eyes, but I stayed focused on the hidden contraband.

"What the hell is this?" I yelled, pressing her body to the fridge with mine as I
forced my fingers under her bra and yanked it up and off, my eyes darting to the floor
to see where the hidden capsules bounced. But nothing fell.

Mrs. Yamato was crying, "Oh no, oh no."

I looked around my feet, lifted the bra higher and turned it over, but still nothing
fell out. Stunned, I looked at Mrs. Yamato's chest, at her breasts, and her... fantastic
nipples.

They were incredible. They jutted out from her dark, perfectly formed little tits
like church steeples piercing the sky. I had never seen any so long, in magazines
or the internet, and certainly not in real life. However, staring at them, I realized
they weren't grossly long but rather looked so set on her very small tits. Whatever,
they were still magnificent.

Mrs. Yamato had closed her eyes again and dropped her head. Her posture cried... shame.


"Unbelievable," I cried. "They're simply incredible!"

I slipped my hands under her tits and lifted them, admiring her amazing, incredibly
long, brown nipples.

"They're beautiful," I said.

Mrs. Yamato opened her eyes and peered into mine, unbelieving. "Really?" she asked.


"Of course. They're fantastic."

I closed my thumbs and forefingers over her incredible nips, pinched lightly and rolled.


"Ohhhh," Mrs. Yamato gasped. "You shouldn't..."

I tugged them out to full length, slid my fingers back down to their base, and then
slipped my fingers out again, as if I was jacking a pair of tiny cocks. They thickened
under my touch.

"Ohhhhh, jeez," Mrs. Yamato cried. "My husband hates them," she sighed.

"Are you kidding? These are gorgeous."

I pinched them tighter and Mrs. Yamato gasped. "He says they're not normal." She gasped
again as I twisted her nipples back and forth. "He says I'll shame him if I go through
one of those scanners and they'll laugh at me if I'm patted down."

"They need to be kissed," I gasped, excited beyond belief.

I tried to duck my head but Mrs. Yamato resisted, pushing it away. I lifted her off
her feet and placed her against the fridge with her tits at mouth level.

"Oh no," Mrs. Yamato said, but it was too late. My mouth enveloped her right tit and
sucked her long, stiff nipple in hard. "Oh God, oh God," she cried.

I pulled back and looked at her tit, now glistening with my saliva. Her nipple was
now even longer and stiffer than before. Unbelievable. I dropped my mouth over the
other one and sucked it hard too. Mrs. Yamato's hands, which had been trying to pull
my head away, now pressed my mouth hard onto her tit. Her legs swung up to encircle
my waist and I reacted naturally by sliding my hands onto her bottom to hold her up,
underneath her skirt. I gripped her ass, a little pear in each hand, and sucked her
tit even harder.

"Ahhhhhhh," she sighed. "Oh yes. Suck them," she cried, loosening her arms around
her neck and hanging back to improve my access to her tiny delights. Her back was
bent back in an arch that hard to believe was possible as she let her head and long,
black hair fall. She was stretched back so far her tits almost completely disappeared,
turning into pure, raw nipples.

A moment later, she pulled herself up and began frantically kissing the side of my
face and twisting my head around on her tit. She didn't even notice me yanking her
panties off her ass and sliding them up her thighs. Holding her with one hand on one
cheek, I flipped my sweatpants out with the other and used it to guide my raging boner
under her ass, found her slit, and wet my tip by sliding it back and forth.

That prompted Mrs. Yamato into action, trying to avoid my penetration.

"No, Mark. You can't," she cried.

I released her tit and looked in her eyes. "Yes," was all I said.

Holding her eyes, I worked the head of my cock into her. She was tight, really tight
and my girth made her mouth fall open with the strain of accommodating me.

"You're so big," she whispered.

"And you're so hot," was my hoarse reply.

I got another inch into her. Her legs tightened around me and she circled her arms
around my neck — she wasn't going to fight me. Her muscles relaxed and I sunk in another
inch.

"I want to fuck you," I gasped.

"I know," she said, kissing me several times around my mouth.

"I'm going to fuck you," I gasped, as if trying to convince myself I was really going
to do it.

"Then do it for Christ's sake," Mrs. Yamato growled, fitting her lips around mine
and pushing her tongue into my mouth.

I slid my cock into her, fighting the clasping, resisting walls of her cunt all the
way. When I was all the way in, Mrs. Yamato released my mouth and extricated her tongue,
let her head fall on my shoulder, and whispered in my ear.

"Oh, Mark. You're so big, so big. Fuck me hard," she murmured. "Fill me with your
juice."

I tried to do just that. I pumped her against the fridge for a couple of minutes,
then, afraid that was too rough on her back, I walked her around the kitchen impaled
on my cock, lifting her whole body up and down. She was so wet, I actually looked
at the floor to see if she was dripping. Eventually I wandered into the living room,
knelt on my father's overstuffed chair, and fucked her against the back of it for
a while before turning around and, tired, sat in it to let her take control. She fucked
me like that, feeding her small tits and long nipples into my mouth the whole time
she frantically rode my cock. She was very loud when she came and I made a joke of
it after.

"Japanese men like their women to show great appreciation," she explained, adding,
"especially in hotels so they can broadcast their manliness. Ambitious young secretaries
learn that early," she added and I wondered if that was how she ended up marrying
Mr. Yamato.

"Are Japanese men that good in bed?" I asked.

"They're very aggressive," she said. "Fast, but too quick," she added with a titter.
"Not like you. You're long, in more ways than one."

I loved her laugh. "I can be aggressive too," I declared.

"Really?" she said in a disbelieving tone.

"Yes," I cried, standing up with her still on me and trying to turn her around.

"No," she shrieked, twisting away, laughing. "Your mother will be home soon."

"We have time for one more," I cried trying to catch her.

"No. I must go."

Mrs. Yamato ran and I quickly blocked the front door. She bolted for the kitchen,
thought better of it, and ran upstairs. I caught her halfway up and lifted her into
the air. She was helpless as I walked her down the hall and into my room. Kicking
the door shut, I walked her over to my bed.

"Did you drive over here?" I asked.

"No," she said, looking confused about my query." It was so beautiful out, I walked,"
she explained.

"Then there's nothing to worry about," I said. "If Mom comes home, she won't even
know you're here."

"She won't come in to say hello?"

"No," I replied as firmly as I could to convince her I was telling the truth.

"You would make love to me when your mother is in the house?"

I set Mrs. Yamato down on her feet and pushed her over onto the bed.

"Does that bother you?" I asked, pulling her skirt up and pushing it onto her back.
I wondered where her panties were but didn't give it much more thought.

"No. Actually, it kind of excites me," she replied, dutifully raising her ass up to
make it easier for me to get into her.

"Good," I said, pushing her further onto the bed and following behind her. "What's
your first name?" I asked, wanting to distract her while I readied my cock behind
her.

"Sayuri," she replied, "but I'd rather you call me Mrs. Yamato if you're going to
fuck me from behind in your mother's house."

"Have it your way," I said, shoving in, meeting far less resistance this time.

After the first dozen strokes, I started banging her for real, lunging hard and really
slamming into her to impress her with my aggression. She seemed to really love it
and I wondered if her loud moans and groans were real or put on. I slowed my pace
until her vocal response subsided somewhat and cautioned her to stay quiet in case
Mom came home. In answer, Mrs. Yamato bunched up the covers and put them in her mouth,
then nodded to indicate that I should get busy again. What a fucking woman, a true
dynamo. What a fuck!

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

The next day, I was stealing a cookie while Mom's back was turned to check the ham
she had cooking in the oven. She straightened up before I could hide my action and
playfully tried to grab the cookie out of my hand but I managed to get it into my
mouth.

"You bad boy," she cried, smacking my rump as I turned away.

"Mom, I'm not a kid anymore," I laughed.

"Then why have you got your hand in the cookie jar?"

"I guess I'm not that grown up," I answered.

"Hmmm, I guess not," Mom replied. "Tell your father dinner will be ready in about
twenty minutes."

"Ok, Mom." I started to leave but she called me back.

"Mark, about the other day..."

A chill swept through me. Had Sayuri said anything about coming over? Was Mom suspicious?


"Yeah?" I turned back.

"You won't have to do much of that patting thing, will you?"

"No, Mom. Most people will go for the scans. It's easier and faster. Some people might
refuse the scan to make a point but they'll soon tire of it. At least, that's what
my boss says. But they'll need more people at first so they're hiring and that gives
me a chance to stay on."

"So, you think the scans are ok?"

"Yeah, just don't think about it. You'll be ok, Mom."

"Margaret wants us all to refuse to go through the scanner to make a point."

"You don't have to do everything Mrs. J says, Mom."

"You know how she is, Mark. She'll make a big scene and we'll all give in just to
get her to shut up," Mom said, sounding exasperated already. She wrung her hands.
"I guess I'll have to get patted down."

"It's no big deal, Mom. They just rub along looking for anything that might be hidden
in your clothes. They're just checking for bumps, is all."

"I've got lots of lumps," Mom said, sounding depressed.

"Oh, you do not." I stepped forward and put my arms around her and gave her a big
squeeze. I patted Mom on the back and let her go, turning to leave to let Dad know
about dinner.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?" I looked back.

"Is it really that simple, the way you did it with Margaret?"

"Yeah, it's just like that," I assured her.

"But, what about around the breasts?" Mom asked. The question reminded me of Sayuri's
concern and made me edgy. Why was Mom asking about this. She couldn't have a problem
like Mrs. Yamato, could she? I mean, if Mrs. Yamato's were that long on her small
tits, it was hard to imagine a similar situation on Mom's ample stock.

"They just rub their palms across your stomach and press the edge of their hands up
against your breasts to see if there's anything that shouldn't be there." I felt heat
flushing through my cheeks even though I didn't feel embarrassed.

"Can you show me?"

"Show you?" Mom nodded. "Mom, it's no big deal. Just stand there with your arms to
your side and let them do it. It'll be over in no time." It was one thing to frisk
Mom's friends, quite another to do her, especially after what had happened when I
did Mrs. J and Mrs. Yamato when we were alone. I was afraid I might forget who I was
with and do something I shouldn't.

"I need to know what to expect or I'll be too nervous." She turned around. "Oh, I
should just cancel and not go," she said, stamping her foot and raising her hand to
cover her face.

"Mom, Mom," I said, stepping up to her back and putting my arms around to comfort
her. "Don't be silly. It's nothing, really." She sniffed. "Look, I'll show you." Gently,
I turned Mom around. When she was facing me, her head lowered, I started with my hands
on her shoulders as I had with Mrs. J the day before. "See," I soothed as I ran my
palms down the outside of her arms, "there's nothing to it."

Mom was wearing a blouse and stretchy pants similar to the outfit Mrs. J had been
wearing when I demonstrated the pat-down to their group. Quickly, I pushed my hands
up the inside of her arms and then down her sides, scraping over the side swells of
her smaller breasts like I'd done with Mrs. J and into the deeper curve of her smaller
waist and then out to her hips. Pausing, I said, "See, nothing to it" before starting
down the outside of her legs. I knelt down and felt along the backs of her calves
and pushed my hands up the backs of her thighs, then slipped between her legs and
down the inside. Finished, I jumped up. "See, nothing to it."

I gave her a kiss on the forehead, and quickly walked out of the kitchen. I didn't
look for Dad right away. For some strange reason, I was sporting the same half erection
I had developed while searching Mrs. J. I went to my room, forgetting about Dad, and
didn't come out until Mom called.

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

That night, Mom popped her head in my door to say goodnight. I quickly clicked a tab
to change the screen and turned to respond, flustered and feeling caught and guilty.
Mom had entered my room and was walking toward me, which was quite unusual. Her robe
gapped open as she walked and I felt the warm press of her body when she put her arm
on my shoulder and hugged me to her, the robe having fallen behind to leave just the
thin material of her nightgown between us.

"You didn't put me through the whole routine, Mark." She didn't whisper but her voice
was subdued. "Tomorrow, I want you to do the real thing. I don't want to be surprised
and made a fool of myself in front of people if something unexpected happens." Mom
pulled my head against her hip and rubbed the side of my face with her soft, warm
hand.

"Are you sure, Mom? It can be a little intrusive."

"So it isn't just nothing, then?" Her laugh was soft and gentle.

"Not quite," I answered honestly.

"Well, I want you to show me just the same. If you can do it for Margaret you can
do it for me."

"Ok, Mom."

"Goodnight, son." She kissed the top of my head.

"Goodnight, Mom.

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

I imagined patting Mom down until I fell asleep, an unwanted full erection keeping
me awake until well after midnight. Several times the next day, my mind wandered during
training with a similar, if less intense, effect — I had been called back in for further
training because my boss said the TSA hadn't specified the procedures properly. Each
time it happened, I forced the image of Mrs. J's body into my mind but couldn't erase
the guilt that it was the thought of Mom's more slender figure that had started the
ball rolling. Twice, I thought about approaching Wendy, one of my fellow trainees,
about coming home with me to show Mom what the pat-down was like. However, both times,
I chickened out, convincing myself that I didn't know her well enough to ask, but
I think I knew that wasn't the real reason. I was scared, but I wanted to pat Mom
down.

So it was that I entered the house both eager and afraid at the same time. Eager to
trace Mom's form again but this time more closely and slowly; and afraid of letting
my excitement show sufficiently for Mom to notice and consequently suffering her disdain.
Still, my fear couldn't overcome my desire to touch my mother.

I had just hung up my jacket and taken my shoes off when Mom appeared in the kitchen
doorway wearing a short sweater that showed about an inch of bare midriff and a pair
of faded jeans that were loose on her legs, snug over her hips, but left a gap between
the skin of her narrow waist and the waistband of the jeans. She was wearing white
tennis shoes without socks.

"Are you ready to check me out?" she smiled.

"Right now?" I asked, certain my voice betrayed my nervousness.

"We may as well get it over with before your father gets home."

That was probably a good idea.

"Ok," I said, walking toward her.

She was standing with one knee bent, forcing the opposite hip higher. As I approached
her, Mom raised her arms and held the sides of the doorway.

"You have to stand up straight and hold your arms out to the side," I instructed,
my trainee voice sounding authoritative.

"Oh," Mom said, backing away into the middle of the kitchen, her arms stretching out
level with her shoulders.

I stepped up to her. "Stay still," I said.

Mom nodded and I placed my hands on the top of her shoulders, then ran them out to
her hands, around her wrists and back underneath to her armpits. Placing my palms
flat against the side of her chest, I pulled them down, slowing beside the swells
of her breasts and allowing them to fit themselves around her form. I was avoiding
Mom's face but I sensed her blush. Down, my hands traveled, cupping her waist and
sliding out to her hips.

Kneeling, I pulled my hands down Mom's legs, felt around her ankles, and slid slowly
up the back of her calves to her knees, then continued up the back of her thighs,
pressing firmly and rubbing all the way. I paused at the top of Mom's legs, then moved
my hands onto her bottom which was firm and supple underneath the loose-fitting jeans.
The material moved with my hands a little and I was surprised to realize I was pressing
so tightly that I could feel the edge of her panties underneath. I guess I was doing
my job well.

Topping out over the upper swells of her buttocks, I ran my hands along the base of
Mom's back and around to the front of her hips. There, I turned my palms flat onto
the front of her legs and slid them slowly down to her knees and then to her feet,
reversed them, and slid palm in up the inside of her calves, past her knees, and up
the inside of her thighs. At the juncture of her legs, I pushed my hands through,
rubbing along the inner recess of her thighs until I felt the edge of her panties
again. I heard Mom suck in her breath.

Pulling out, I raised my hands up to Mom's stomach and slid them, palm in, over her
tummy. I stood and slid my hands around Mom's sides to run up the outer edge of her
back onto her shoulder blades, then into the center and down her spine to the small
of her back. Moving up, I found the lower edge of Mom's bra strap and followed it
around to her front, flipping my hands palm in before pushing underneath her breasts
until my fingers met. As soon as they did, I dropped them down to Mom's jeans and
dragged my hands out to her hips and around to the middle of her back, letting my
fingers trail along the inside of the waistband down to the top edge of her panties.
I stepped back, finished.

"There," I said, my breath short and face feeling flushed.

"Whew," Mom said, her face similarly flushed and voice just as breathy. "Thanks."


Mom turned away and I exited the kitchen and went upstairs. I was fully erect but
hadn't noticed myself getting excited while the pat-down was in progress. I hoped
Mom hadn't noticed and was quite sure she hadn't. I was momentarily depressed now
that it was over, knowing that it wouldn't happen again, but then became strangely
elated. I went straight into the bathroom, shut the door and took my cock out, stepped
to the toilet, lifted the lid, and started wanking like mad.

I had barely finished cleaning up when heavy footsteps sounded near the door. I whirled
around and sat on the toilet, hunching forward to cover my semihard cock.

"Dad!" I cried out, indignantly.

"Oh... sorry, I..." he shut the door but I could tell from his confused glance that
he could see what I was trying to cover up. Great, just great. Dad had caught me masturbating.
I hoped to hell Mom didn't mention getting me to pat her down. That would be an unmitigated
disaster.

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

I was a nervous wreck during dinner but Mom didn't say anything about her home investigation
of the new airport security measures, either on Mrs. J or herself. In fact, Mom didn't
say much of anything which wasn't atypical but the way she studiously maintained her
silence was ominous. I was worried that Mom was offended and angry about how far I
had gone during my pat-down demonstration.

Had I really been that improper? I replayed the scene in my mind which felt weird
with both my parents calmly eating their dinner beside me. If anything, I hadn't been
overly intimate, at least, as far as I could determine from the training I had received
and I imagined that some agents went further in certain cases, like when an attractive
female was involved. Pushing my fingers inside Mom's jeans and letting them feel the
top of her panties was actually something she might experience in a real search but
that wasn't the point. The point was, did Mom feel I had transgressed the appropriate
boundary, the one she was comfortable with? Her lack of acknowledgement of my presence
made me feel she did, and I felt guilty and ashamed. The feeling only got worse when
Mom ignored me for the rest of the evening and didn't even say goodnight. She just
went upstairs and went to bed and Dad joined her soon after.

I made a startling discovery when I went to bed. As I usually did, I laid out my clothes
for the next day, setting a clean pair of shorts, socks and a shirt on top of my jeans
that were already laid out on the top of my dresser. I got out some clean underwear
last and that's when I found the black panties neatly folded in my drawer. I almost
fell over with shock.

Holy fuck! Maybe that was what all the silent treatment was about. Mom must have found
Mrs. Yamato's panties and thought I'd been messing around with a girl in the house.
I remembered taking her panties off in the kitchen by the fridge, or at least yanking
them down. Had I taken them right off? We had wandered around, fucking, in the kitchen
and then went into the living room to fuck in the chair. She didn't have panties on
when we were in my room, so they must have come off in the living room or on the way
upstairs or in my room. I didn't remember Mrs. Yamato putting them back on, so these
must be them, and Mom had found them. Thank God I hadn't mentioned Mrs. Yamato coming
over.

I awoke with a start but my fear response turned to simple surprise when I lifted
my head and recognized Mom. I could only make out her silhouette since it was dark
in my room but the hall light was on, starkly outlining her nightgown clad figure
standing in my open doorway.

"Mark?" she whispered and I knew then that her previous calls had woke me up. How
long had she been standing there?

"Yes?" I whispered back.

"Come here."

I pulled the covers back and swung my feet to the floor, sat up and shook my groggy
head. I looked sleepily at Mom. Why didn't she come into my room if she wanted to
talk to me? Was she here to berate me about the liberal nature of my demonstration
or was she going to ask me about the panties? If so, I wanted to be chewed out in
my room proper and not in the hallway where Dad might hear.

"Come here," Mom urged.

I got up and stumbled toward her. Mom lifted her hands and grasped the door jambs
as if bracing herself for an expected collision. I tried to steady my gait.

"What?" I asked, peering behind Mom, down the hall to her bedroom door which was ajar
about four inches.

"I was wondering about those pat-downs again."

She paused, as if she was about to say more, then didn't. Relief flooded through me.


"What about them?" I asked.

"When you first showed us what they were like, Margaret suggested me as the guinea
pig but then offered herself instead because I was wearing a skirt."

Mom paused again, as if she didn't want to continue.

"Yeah, I remember," I nodded impatiently.

"Well, does that mean I have to go through the scanner if I'm wearing a dress?"

"What?" I asked, my tone indicating that I thought her question didn't make sense.


"I mean, do they only do pat-downs on women who are wearing pants?" Mom made her query
clear.

"No, of course not."

My impatience was quite evident in my voice. I was relieved that Mom hadn't come to
give me shit and was probably reacting harshly to her waking me up.

"Then why did Margaret..."

"I don't know, Mom. Can't it wait until tomorrow?" I rubbed my eyes to make the point
that I was tired and had been woken from a deep sleep.

"I can't sleep thinking about it."

"Well, now you know. Can I go back to bed?"

"What's it like when a woman's wearing a dress? Is it different?"

"Mom, what time is it?" I spoke out loud.

"Shhhhh. You'll wake your father." Mom didn't look behind herself at her partly open
bedroom door, but I did. "It's after two, I think."

"Mom," I chided her.

"What's it like? Is it different?"

"A little," I said.

"Show me," Mom responded immediately.

"What?"

"Show me how it's different. Do it again."

"Do what?"

"The search thing. Search me again."

"The whole thing, or just the dress part?"

"The whole thing," Mom whispered. Even her breathing was raspy.

I looked down over Mom's body. She was wearing a nightgown. Not a flashy or sexy one
but it was made of a silky blue, shimmery material. It wasn't full length, ending
just above her knees like a conservative dress, but the thin material made her womanly
figure more apparent than any dress could have. I was looking at, and standing near,
the warm body of an attractive, early forties woman covered only by a thin nightgown
and probably a pair of panties. My chest tightened and I knew my own breath was shortening
which was confirmed when I spoke.

"Ok. Come inside," I stepped back.

"No," Mom declined. "Do it here."

Those words, 'Do it here', stirred my groin.

"Maybe you should turn out the hall light."

"Why?"

"So Dad doesn't wake up."

Mom didn't answer but after a few seconds, she shook her head. I stepped forward and
put my hands on her shoulders. Mom leaned her head over and kind of hugged my right
hand on her left shoulder. I moved my hands toward her head, straightening it, then
slid out to her shoulders and slowly down her bare arms, much more slowly than I had
in the afternoon, taking time to enjoy the supple feel of her flesh. When I reached
her hands, instead of immediately returning up the inside of her arms, I let my fingertips
slide gently through her palms and fingers, holding them for a moment. Mom closed
her eyes and let her head sag slightly back, causing her shoulder-length hair to cascade
onto her back, shining radiantly, backlit by the hallway light.

No such luck! Mrs. Yamato yanked her nipple out of my mouth, rewarding me with a welcome
consolation prize: a quick succession of mini-humps squeezing and sliding up and down
the length of my cock, lubricating the entire underside with her luxurious, oily nectar.
I pulled back until the tip of my cock was poised at her entrance.

Mrs. Yamato suddenly giggled, dropped away from me to the bed and spun around onto
her tummy, then scrambled up until she fell forward onto the pillows with her ass
pushed up and ready, her hands pulling the short, black skirt up to bare her ass,
looking all the more remarkable above the black stockings she still wore.

"Take me," she hissed.

I grasped my cock, eager to impale her, ready to guide it into her shaved hole. Shaved!
She had shaved since that first time. God, my cock tingled so hard I almost came and
that reminded me of Mom and her instructions to tease Mrs. Yamato until she was really
horny. Christ, I had almost forgotten about Mom. She must be in the closet. I turned
to look and there she was, standing just inside the door of her walk-in closet, motioning
to the belts from her robes that she had laid out on the bed. I nodded and turned
to pick up one of the belts, certain that I wouldn't be able to hold back and go slow.
I looked back at Mom, my eyes pleading for her permission to let me take Mrs. Yamato
right away for the first time but she ignored my plight, gesturing for me to use the
belt to blindfold her friend.

I slipped the belt under Mrs. Yamato's forehead and over her eyes. As I wrapped it
around her head to tie it off, she giggled and shook her hips, rubbing her ass across
my cock. I tied the belt tight and looked at Mom. Her hands, she was holding her own
together to indicate what to do next. I picked up another belt, pulled Mrs. Yamato's
hands up behind her back and tied them together, to further giggles. Mrs. Yamato was
now face down on the bed in front of me, ass high and knees spread, waiting for me
to take her.

I looked at Mom. She was depressing her hand, palm down to the floor. Go slow; I got
it. Her hand turned up with only the longest finger protruding. I nodded and stretched
my own out, found Mrs. Yamato's pussy, and tickled all around the edge of her slit
with the tip of my finger. She whimpered and, reluctantly, I set about to tease her
for long time. For the next fifteen minutes I rubbed my one finger all around Mrs.
Yamato's pussy and ass, periodically dipping into her slit, more and more, until I
was finally fingering her with long, slow strokes as far as my finger could reach
into her cunt. Every once in a while, I looked back for approval from Mom and got
it.

When Mrs. Yamato fell flat on the bed, moaning, but still arching her ass up to meet
my plunging finger, Mom indicated that I should turn her around. I rolled Mrs. Yamato
over and, under Mom's gestured instruction, spread her legs wide and pulled my finger
out of her cunt. Mrs. Yamato tried to rub the blindfold off but I replaced and tightened
it.

Mom indicated that I should pinch her nipples, which I did. Mom left the closet then
and walked toward us. Cautiously, she got onto the bed and crawled up behind me. Reaching
under me, she pried up on my inner thighs to force me up into a crouch. Was she going
to suck me from underneath?

Nope. Mom crawled under me and settled down between Mrs. Yamato's widely spread legs.
She looked up at me and nodded at Mrs. Yamato's tits. As I rolled her nipples between
my fingers, Mom lowered her head and tasted her friend's pussy.

I thought Mrs. Yamato was snarling for a minute. She released the strangest sound
I had ever heard from a woman's throat. Mom's head barely moved but whatever her mouth
was doing, Mrs. Yamato utterly loved it. The snarl devolved into a long series of
moans and whimpers. Mrs. Yamato twitched and squiggled on the bed, twisting this way
and that, but kept her pussy centered under Mom's mouth. Her stomach muscles tensed
with the effort of trying to push her cunt onto Mom's tongue, or mine, I guess, from
her blinded perspective.

This went on for a long time. I didn't see Mrs. Yamato get her hands loose until she
reached down to grab my, or rather, Mom's, head. Her whole body froze then, except
for her fingers, which shook as they clutched Mom's head. Then, she shrieked and quickly
drew her hands up to the belt around her eyes but I managed to grab them before she
could pull it away.

"Oh no," she cried. "Margaret, no!"

She writhed on the bed as if trying to twist free but her pussy didn't pull away and
Mom kept her tongue inside it. I could see that Mom had wrapped her arms under Mrs.
Yamato's legs, holding her fast. I wondered if Mom had heard Mrs. Yamato cry out Mrs.
J's name. Realizing it was a woman eating her out, she had inferred it was Mrs. J,
and why wouldn't she, knowing her and given the display she had made the day she demanded
I show them how the pat-down worked?

"Margaret, I said we can't do this," Mrs. Yamato whimpered. "I'm not like that," she
insisted, renewing her struggle.

Mom wiggled her face and Mrs. Yamato moaned loudly, belying her words.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, Godddd."

Her hands broke free of my grip but instead of trying to pull the blindfold away,
they locked onto Mom's head and pulled it harder onto her pussy, her legs closing
and bending as if she was convulsing.

"Oh my god, Margaret. Oh god," she cried.

Her legs thrashed around on the bed and every time her feet planted in the mattress,
she bucked her pelvis up into Mom's face. She was climaxing. I leaned down to take
a stiff nipple into my mouth and sucked it hard. Her head shook from side to side
and she loudly announced her orgasm. It lasted minutes and, several times, just when
it seemed to be over, another bout of moaning and thrashing ensued. Finally, she lay
still, quietly regaining her breath, limbs limp.

I stood up on the bed, suddenly realizing how cramped I felt crouching over Mrs. Yamato.
Surprisingly, I had held onto her nipples the whole time except for the when I had
caught her hands and when I sucked her nipples. As soon as I stood, Mom crawled up
onto Mrs. Yamato's small chest. I stepped back and fell to my knees behind Mom, thinking
she wanted to kiss Mrs. Yamato and hoping she would stretch out so I could feed my
cock into her from behind. It was my turn, wasn't it?

"Margaret...,"

"Shhhhh," Mom silenced her.

Mom picked up Mrs. Yamato's limp arms and placed her hands on her own tits. I looked
over Mom's shoulders as she dropped her hands and pulled the belt off, uncovering
Mrs. Yamato's eyes for the first time.

Shock! Pure and utter shock.

"Janet!" Sayuri exclaimed.

Mom ignored her reaction and calmly asked her, "Do you like them?" arching her back
to push her tits into Mrs. Yamato's limp hands.

Mrs. Yamato blinked, several times, then responded, "Yes."

"Then show me," Mom said.

Mrs. Yamato's fingers closed over Mom's larger breasts and Mom leaned her head back.
"That's it," she whispered.

Mrs. Yamato didn't say anything else. She concentrated instead on fondling Mom's tits.
I watched her technique, my head hanging over Mom's shoulders, but couldn't discern
anything different from the way I would have done it but I could tell from the low
murmurs from Mom that it felt different to her. I looked into Mrs. Yamato's eyes but
she never once took them off Mom's face. It was as if they were alone in their own
world.

When Mrs. Yamato lifted her head up, trying to take Mom's nipple into her mouth, Mom
softly denied her, "Oh no you don't. You owe me more than that."

On that note, Mom squiggled her legs higher up Mrs. Yamato's chest until her thighs
were spread wide over her face. Reaching down, Mom pulled Mrs. Yamato's face up to
her pussy. "Lick me," she said.

Dutifully, Mrs. Yamato's tongue began exploring Mom's pussy. She licked and lapped,
poked and stabbed. She wasn't in a hurry, I noted. Whereas I would have been trying
to force Mom quickly into ecstasy, Mrs. Yamato took her time, as if the enjoyment
was in the doing, not in the end result. Mom threw her head back and began moving
her hips to and fro, the two of them riding the thrill of the moment, squeezing everything
they could out of it without rushing toward any ultimate goal. I knew I had just learned
an important lesson.

Mom slowly rode Mrs. Yamato's face to her own orgasm, unhurried and relaxed but intense
all the same. They were both breathing very hard, moaning but not groaning, faster
and faster until it was done. There was no burst of fireworks. Mom simply began to
slow and gradually, her hips stopped moving and she pulled her pussy away from Mrs.
Yamato's mouth.

"Whew," Mom cried.

"Whew," Mrs. Yamato replied.

"Sayuri, that was simply awesome."

"I'm glad you liked it. You were awesome too."

"Thank you."

"We've forgotten someone, I think," Mom said, turning around to look at me.

"Oh yes. Poor boy," Mrs. Yamato cooed.

"Should we let him fuck us?" Mom asked.

"Us?" Mrs. Yamato said, looking truly surprised. "You're fucking your son?"

"We've just started, partly because of you," Mom replied.

"That's incredible," Mrs. Yamato exclaimed. "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I," Mom said. "Not a word to Margaret."

"Of course not. Never."

"She can't keep anything to herself."

"I know. That's why I refused her advances."

"She wanted to do it with you?" Mom's tone indicated surprise. "She must really need
it. You're not a lesbian."

"Neither are you," Mrs. Yamato laughed.

"That's true," Mom laughed with her.

"Hey," I interrupted. "Can you two have a chat some other time."

"Oh," Mom teased. "Is there something you want?"

"Damn right," I said. "You," I sidled up close to Mom's backside, running my cock
up the crack of her ass. "And you too," I said, looking down at Mrs. Yamato.

Mom shifted forward, pushing her pussy back onto Mrs. Yamato's face.

"I want seconds," she said. "But Mark can do you at the same time. Then we'll switch."


"Sounds good to me," Mrs. Yamato agreed.

Mom leaned forward onto Mrs. Yamato's face and she in turn lifted her legs up, allowing
Mom to drape her arms over the back of her calves, holding them far back and wide
open for me. Mrs. Yamato's spread, glistening wet pussy beckoned. Just above it was
Mom's equally inviting cunt, leaning over Mrs. Yamato's face, her tongue already lapping
through her slit.

I leaned my hips forward and fed my cock into Mrs. Yamato's welcoming snatch, pleased
by the satisfied grunt she emitted as I shoved the head inside. Not wanting to leave
Mom wanting, I fit my finger into her pussy behind Mrs. Yamato's tongue and slowly
pushed it into her squishy wetness as I started to slowly fuck my cock into Mrs. Yamato.


And so iit went. I sped up and slowed down but never reached a frantic pace. Occasionally,
I pulled out of Mrs. Yamato and pushed my cock into Mom's cunt. It was all the more
hot and clinging for being ignored and each time I returned for a visit, it seemed
even more eager to welcome me home. Each time I pulled out and returned to Mrs. Yamato's
equally hot and tighter snatch, I slipped a couple of fingers into Mom's cunt and
fingered her in time to my thrusts into Mrs. Yamato. We were a finely tuned trio.


We paused several times to prolong our session, moving slowly, if at all, then gradually
increased our tempo again, in unison. I bent forward to kiss the top of Mom's back
during these pauses and found myself working my way down to nibble and nip her ass.
It wasn't long before my tongue was lavishing her ass and then it was a short hop
to dip my tongue into her crack to sample her little crinkly, sliding across it in
one long, slow lick. She moaned loudly when I did that so I pushed my tongue inside
and wiggled it around. Mom went wild.

"Hey, what's going on?" Mrs. Yamato complained, missing my cock, which I had to pull
out of her in order to put my face on Mom's ass.

"Nothing," Mom moaned.

"Nothing," I groaned, sliding my cock into Mrs. Yamato's yawning cunt.

I fucked her hard then. Not rapidly, but with lunging thrusts that lingered at the
greatest depth. I realized by Mom's response that this was something she wanted us
to keep to ourselves so I didn't kiss her ass again but as I fucked Mrs. Yamato hard,
I worked a thumb into Mom's ass and was thrilled when she shoved back to welcome it.


When we were coming, exquisitely timing our arrival at the same time, I gasped into
Mom's ear loud enough for only her to hear, "I'm going to have you there tonight."


Mom's orgasm was the loudest, drowning out even Mrs. Yamato.

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