The Mom Memories - Chapter 3 - Alwayswantedto - Literotica
The Mom Memories Ch. 03
by alwayswantedto©
All characters are 18 years or older.
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from Chapter 02 ...
I was too excited about the next day to search for my father's next letter, even though it hinted at Dad fucking my grandmother while my mother was around. But my thoughts were now on a real live woman, my Mom. Tomorrow, I was going to touch her. Tomorrow, I was going to get sexual with my Mom, right in front of my Dad.
...
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The following morning I watched Mom prepare Dad's breakfast while I ate mine. I had risen earlier than usual and gone straight downstairs still in my pajamas, hoping to catch Mom in her nightdress, but no such luck. She was already dressed in a demure housedress that covered her to her knees. Still, I enjoyed watching her move about the kitchen while I ate, imagining what her body looked like under her dress. She did have a charming figure, that much was evident. When I finished, she pointed at the breakfast she'd prepared and asked me to take it up and feed Dad.
"But Mom," I complained, "We talked about this yesterday. The doctor thinks we should do things in front of Dad together. You should feed Dad when I'm in sight behind you."
Mom blushed a little, then agreed that we should feed Dad together. Once again, I enjoyed Mom's behind as I followed her up the stairs. Dad was still in bed. When she asked me to lift him out so she could feed him in his chair, I suggested it would be easier if she sat or kneeled beside him on the bed since it would leave room for me to stay in sight behind her. So mom kicked off her shoes and crawled up onto the bed, standing on her knees in front and to the side of Dad. After handing her his breakfast I crawled up behind her as she began to spoon the mixture of raspberry yogurt and fruit into his mouth. I placed my knees on either side of her calves and closed in behind her but not near enough to touch.
I didn't do anything for the first few minutes. Then, tentatively, I put my hands on the top of her shoulders and began a gentle massage. After a while, Mom leaned back a little. I moved to give her room and she followed, settling on my upper legs. I moved my hands down to massage her back while she continued to feed Dad, a slow process. At one point, I moved my hands to her side, sliding up toward her armpits along the side of her breasts. Mom flinched.
"Oh, gosh, look what I've done!" Awkwardly, she climbed off me, turning to crawl off the bed. "Darn, it's going to stain." She handed me the yogurt with the spoon in it. As she twisted to get her feet on the floor I could see a dollop of red yogurt spilled on her chest. Quickly, she ran into the bathroom, reaching around to unzip her dress. Much as I wanted to, I didn't follow her into the bathroom, although the thought popped instantly into my mind after seeing her unzip her dress. I remained kneeling on the bed, imagining the dress being pushed down off her body.
I heard water running, filling up the bathtub. "Damn, ... damn," I heard her cussing as the tub filled with water. After just a minute or so, the water stopped and I could hear her swishing something around in it. A moment later she emerged from the bathroom, dressed only in the slip she must have been wearing under the dress. There was a faint reddish smudge on it as well, where it lay on top of her right breast. Since she was looking down at it as she walked toward me, I was free to look over her body covered by the thin cotton slip. I could see her dark nipples pressing against the material and I could also discern the outline of her panties, which were not the large Mother kind I was pleased to see.
As she approached the bed, I held the yogurt to her in an unspoken request for her to resume her feeding. Without a word, Mom crawled up on the bed taking her previous position, but stayed up on her knees as she started feeding Dad again. I nestled myself in behind her, placed my hands on her waist, and gently pulled her back until she was again sitting on my thighs. Sliding my hands up and down her waist, I whispered close to her ear, "Don't be so jumpy, Mom." Then, "I'm going to try kissing you on the cheek and neck again, to see if Dad reacts. Keep an eye on him."
I gave her several innocent pecks on the cheek, gradually increasing the duration that my lips were pressed against her cheek, letting them pinch her skin as each kiss ended. My kisses became less innocent, more sensual, though they remained but caresses on her cheek. At the same time, I slowed the movement of my hands along her waist, allowing them to reach high enough that they brushed against the swell of her breasts. I blazed a trail of kisses from her cheek through the hollow of her neck and along her shoulder, returning on the same path with nibbling lips to kiss her cheek again. She shivered several times as I retraced this path several times. Looking down her chest as I progressed, I could see her nipples pushing out. She was getting excited and had stopped feeding Dad.
"Keep feeding him, Mom," I whispered softly in her ear as I started another trek along her shoulder, this time keeping my hands still against the sides of her breasts instead of moving them down to her waist. I let my tongue slip out of my mouth to tease her shoulder. When I encountered the strap of her slip I didn't kiss over it this time. Instead, I used my tongue to drag it over her shoulder and push it down onto her upper arm. As I retraced my path back along her bare shoulder, I pressed my right hand more firmly against her breast and pulled my left out to push the strap off that shoulder as well.
Mom didn't seem to notice that her straps were now hanging on her shoulders. In fact, she had closed her eyes and had stopped feeding Dad again. I let my lips trail up her cheek and beyond to her ear and kissed it quickly before retreating to her cheek. Before heading for her shoulder again, I returned to her ear to plant a longer kiss there. I slipped my left hand over her shoulder to gently grasp her throat, using it to pull her head back. Her neck stretched and bared, I kissed down to the hollow of her neck and around to her throat. I gently nibbled her neck under her chin on the way back, then landed a long, sucking kiss in the hollow of her throat.
Mom's hands had fallen to her lap where they loosely held the almost empty bowl of yogurt. Her slip had fallen forward a bit given the extra range allowed by her loosened shoulder straps. The tops of her breasts were bare and I could see her stiff nipples jutting out just below the edge of her slip. I molded my fingers around the swell of her right breast. I reached down and around her with my left hand to quietly remove the bowl from her hands, setting it on the bed beside us, and then shifted my hand under her arm to grasp her left tit the same way.
Kissing my way back to her ear, I whispered, "Keep your eyes closed, Mom." I let my tongue reach out to trace the circumference of her ear. "I think we should let Dad see you a bit," I whispered, "to jog his memory. Keep your eyes closed, now." I didn't want anything to jar her into stopping now. "I'm just going to raise your slip a bit, so he can see your legs a little better. Just a tiny bit, Mom."
Reluctantly, I slid my hands away from the sides of her tits, down her waist and along her thighs to grasp the hem of her slip. I started dragging it up her legs. "Keep your eyes closed," I reminded her, tugging her slip up several inches until it wouldn't come any further, held by the pressure of her legs against mine.
"Lift up a bit, Mom." As she did, I slid my hands, holding the hem of the slip, under her legs and dragged it way up so that when she dropped back down again it wasn't caught between us. Her thighs were now bare on top of mine, and her rump nestled in my lap separated from my hard cock only by her panties and my pajamas. I was very excited.
Her slip was higher than before on top of her thighs but not anything near as high as I'd pulled the back up. Reminding her to keep her eyes closed, I told her I was going to pull her slip up a little more, just the tiniest bit, so Dad could see her legs and maybe jar a memory of her. Despite my assurance, I pulled her slip right up, uncovering her panties. I couldn't actually see because my view was blocked by her breasts, but I knew they were bare to the world. Awesome!
"He's not reacting yet, Mom. Open your knees a little. Just a little," I begged her. Her legs parted, a good three or four inches. Double awesome!
What else could I do? I didn't want to waste her surprising acquiescence. What could I do? I thought hard.
"He can see you," I whispered, "and me behind you." I hoped I wasn't going too far. "He'll think I'm him. What did he do when he held you like this?" I was deathly afraid that prompting her to speak would break our spell. I waited on pins and needles for her reaction.
"I hardly ever let him. Because of Grandma," she whispered back. Because of Grandma? What did that mean? I had to find out more about that later. I pushed her further.
"But what happened when you did let him?"
"He held my breasts and ..."
I raised my hands up to grasp the sides of her breasts. Holding my breath, I slipped my fingers around to hold her tits in my hands, very gently, lest I break this spell. Still, I couldn't help parting my thumb and index finger to let her nipples slip between them.
"and then ...?"
"He'd try to push me onto my tummy."
I pictured Dad trying to fuck my Mom from behind, like I knew he did with Grandma. Is that why she wouldn't let him? Did she suspect? Did she know? My cock pulsed erratically.
I pushed my chest against her back. "You have to let him, Mom. It could bring him back."
What a shameless asshole I was. I nudged forward more. She resisted. I pressed again.
"No," she whispered.
You're going to ruin it, you dumbfuck, I chastised myself. Nevertheless, I pushed on her back again, letting my hand fall to grasp her waist, keeping it tight against me. I put my head between her shoulder blades and pushed, pressing her up with my knees. She began to yield. I pushed more.
"No," she whispered again, more quietly.
I pushed harder, lifting my hips to lift her rump. She fell forward and I used my hand to push her head down onto the pillow beside Dad. I lifted her slip and draped it on the small of her back, baring her rump except for her panties, a feast for my eyes. I moved forward to press my tented pajamas against her panties. Tentatively, I pressed against her.
"No," she said again, not whispering this time.
I pushed my cock against her anyway, firmly, and kept it pressed in.
"No," she was back to whispering again, hoarsely this time.
"There's a flicker in his eyes," I lied. "We can't stop now!" I cried.
I was too scared to thrust against her ass but I moved enough to rub myself on her. Shifting around, I tried to fit my straining cock into the crack of her ass, finding the sponginess of her pussy where it puffed out below her ass. It was warm, very warm. I was starting to wonder if I could actually fuck her when I started to come. I yanked my hips back, fearful that the feel of my wet spunk would ruin any chance of this happening again. When my hips stopped gyrating, I pulled the slip down to cover her and pressed my hand on her back until she lay flat, breathing heavily.
"It worked, Mom. I saw something in his eyes." Mom lay on the bed, breathing heavily. I looked up at Dad. Shock! He was looking right at me. A piercing look. A hard, flinty glint. Then it was gone.
When I gathered my thoughts I spoke to Mom again, though in a faltering voice, "We have to try again, Mom. It's working." I was still disconcerted by Father's look. Had it been real? I got up from the bed, thankful that Mom couldn't see the soaked front of my pajamas. She was still lying on her tummy when I left. It was all I could do not to climb between her legs and start rubbing myself on her again.
After I showered and dressed, I went downstairs. Mom was there dressed in a fresh blouse and slacks.
"Hi honey," she greeted me. "Would you like me to call you for lunch when its ready?"
We were back to our normal mom/son relationship. "Sure," I called back, heading to Dad's study. I needed to find the rest of his story.
Browsing through the fourth bundle of stories, searching for the rest of Dad's story, I came across one that I thought was by Frank so I started to read it. I had read the first page before I realized it was by 'Francis', not Frank. I continued reading anyway.
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Hi everyone. My name is Francis and this is what happened with my mother. My Mom is quite thin, always has been. She has a fairly pretty face but you wouldn't give her body a second glance because she's quite flat-chested and doesn't have much of an ass, either. But my view on this changed one very hot summer day when I was home from school, still without a summer job.
I spent my time lolling around the house. We didn't have an air conditioner and when the temperature soared, I began shedding clothes, eventually hanging around in just a pair of shorts.
"You're so lucky," Mom said that hot afternoon, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her arm, "being able to wear just shorts."
"You could do the same, Mom. I wouldn't mind," I said with a grin.
"I'm sure you wouldn't," she smiled back.
"Why don't you just wear a bathing suit then?" I suggested.
"I don't have one. You know I don't like going to the beach," she replied in a semi angry tone. Mom didn't like the beach because she was shy about being thin and flat chested. I hadn't seen her at a beach since I was really little.
"Well, just wear a bra and panties, then. It's just like a swimsuit."
"I don't think so, Mister."
"Well, roast then," I casually dismissed her problem, having suggested a solution. I returned to reading my comic book. I had started working my way through my old comic book collection since coming home.
Mom read her magazines, huffing and sighing and complaining about the heat for most of the next hour. I ignored her. Finally, she spoke directly to me again.
"It wouldn't bother you, if I did?" Mom asked.
"Did what?" I replied, not even looking up from my comic.
"Just wore a blouse and panties around the house."
I replied with exaggerated disinterest, "Nope."
Mom went upstairs. When she came back down, I pointedly refrained from looking in her direction, keeping my nose buried in my comic book. After a while, when I could feel she wasn't looking my way, I stole a few glances. She had indeed changed into just a t-shirt and panties. Now, I wouldn't have thought she would need a bra anyway but her t-shirt clung to her chest and I could see her nipples poking against the fabric. I'd never noticed this before. And her t-shirt wasn't quite long enough to cover her panties, so I could see them, too. Despite what I'd said, it certainly wasn't the same as a swimsuit. My swelling prick attested to that!
Acting as if nothing was different, she asked me if I'd like some lemonade if she made some. Nodding absently, I turned my eyes to look at her as she walked away to the kitchen. I was stunned. My mother, who didn't seem to actually have an ass, sported two great looking pear-like globes that moved erotically with each step, pushing out against her panties. How had this treasure been hidden? Her cheeks hung low, rather than sticking out. Was that it?
I got up to follow her and stood watching from the doorway as she made lemonade. Her little ass was truly divine. I would have loved to see it in more revealing panties.
Glancing over her shoulder at me, Mom said, "You're sure this won't bother you?"
"No, not at all," I assured her. I walked up behind her for a closer look at her cheeks. "It's cooler without a bra, isn't it? You don't really need one anyway, you know."
"I'm quite aware that I don't have anything up top, young man," she rebuked me.
"No, no. That's not what I meant," I quickly scrambled to redeem myself. "I only meant that you don't need one to hold things up, ... I mean ... you don't, uh ... you're not saggy like bigger women," I finished off, lamely.
"No, I guess that's a plus," she acknowledged.
"Anyway, big ones were a big thing for Dad's generation. Guys my age like smaller ones," I added, quickly feeling like I was overstepping myself again.
"Is that so?" Mom replied with skepticism.
"Yeah. Really, Mom," I assured her with enthusiasm. "Big ones are ugly."
"Oh." She smiled, then added, "I don't like wearing them anyway, you know. They're uncomfortable and you're right, I don't really need one."
"Well, you shouldn't wear one. You look good without it."
"Hmmmm," Mom responded, turning to face me. "Would guys now-a-days really like to look at small ones like mine?" she asked.
"I would!" I blurted out loud, without thinking, looking at her t-shirt. My face reddened. I started to bluster a recovery, then just stood there.
"I don't think Dad would think very highly of that," she mused and then, with a little laugh, added, "For that matter, I don't think he'd like me wandering around the house in my panties, either."
I just stood there, not knowing what to say or do.
"But what the hell," she said, "It's so hot out." She reached down and tugged her t-shirt down, the stretched material emphasizing her small breasts, and particularly her prominent nipples. "See, this is all your mother has."
I stared down at her chest. She arched her back to amplify her limited assets. Her tits were beautiful in my eyes. They were small, yes, but the normal sized nipples looked extra long on her breasts.
"They're nice," I finally choked. It was clear that I wasn't kidding, that I meant what I said.
"Oh. Well. Thank you very much, Francis." I could tell by her voice, the way her eyes glanced shyly down, that Mom was pleased despite her kidding tone. She really wasn't used to men complimenting her breasts and I could tell she liked it.
"Well, if I did take my shirt off, you wouldn't gawk at my tits all the time, would you?
"No, Mom," I tore my eyes away but they soon strayed back to her t-shirt, latching onto her nipples once again.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. I suppose I could tolerate you looking. I'm sure you'll tire of it soon enough." Mom poured two glasses of lemonade and walked toward the living room with the glasses in hand. "Come on, then."
My eyes fell to her ass as she walked. As I followed her, I noticed for the first time that I was hard. I wondered if she'd noticed the bulge in my shorts.
Mom sat on the couch and started reading her magazine. I sat next to her, not in the chair where I'd been before. I sipped my lemonade, staring at her nipples poking up from her t-shirt. Eventually she looked up, "Is that all you're going to do all day, stare at my tits?"
"Sorry, Mom. I just haven't seen you like this before."
"Well, you're the biggest fan they've ever had, that's for sure. God knows, your father certainly strains his eyes looking at other women with bigger ones," she complained. She looked down at her chest and laughed, "Well, they do seem to like your attention."
Mom turned her eyes back to her magazine, letting me carry on ogling her shirt. I let my eyes stray down to her panties, her open legs providing a great view. I could see the crevice below her mound where her pussy lips parted, pouting out against her panties.
"I thought you were fascinated with my breasts," Mom suddenly asked. Quickly jerking my head up, I could see her looking right at me, a quirky smile on her face. I went beet red. "Go read your comic now," Mom instructed me. I did, but I couldn't help but look over to check her out now and then. She didn't seem to mind. About an hour before Dad usually came home, Mom went upstairs and got dressed in her normal attire. When Dad came in, everything was prim and proper.
The Mom Memories Ch. 03
by alwayswantedto©
When I got up the next day, Mom had gone out shopping. I was sitting on the couch in my shorts reading a comic when she came in the front door about noon.
"My god, it is SO hot out there," she announced, dropping her stuff in the hallway and walking into the living room toward me. "Should we have some lemonade, sweetie?" she asked stopping in front of me.
"Sure," I started to get up.
"No stay, I'll get it," she said. But she didn't move, she just stood there. "Were you bored, honey, sitting here with nothing to look at?" she finally said, that quirky smile reappearing on her face. I could feel the blood flushing to my face. She lifted her foot and stretched it out to me. "Why don't you undo my shoe for me?"
Flustered, I undid the ankle strap and slipped the shoe off her foot. She kept it still in my hand, not pulling it away, so I rubbed the bottom of her foot, then slid my hand up the back of her calf and rubbed the muscle in her leg.
"Mmmmm, that feels good," she sighed. I did this for a minute or two before she pulled her foot away to replace it with the other. I did the same for that foot. Then she pulled it away to and just stood once more in front of me.
Without a word, she dropped her hand to the side of her skirt, cocked her hip, and pulled the zipper down. Uncocking her hip, she let the skirt fall to the floor. Her blouse fell low enough to cover her panties in front so that it looked like she was only wearing her blouse. She stood again for a full minute, just looking down at me while I gazed at her pelvis. "Come on," she finally said, "Let's go get some lemonade."
I followed her into the kitchen, not able to see her ass in just her panties because her blouse covered her backside as well. As she retrieved two large glasses from the cupboard she instructed me to fetch the lemonade from the fridge. When I came up behind her, she told me to reach around and fill the glasses. When I was done, I put the lemonade container back in the fridge and returned to stand behind her. She stood in front of our lemonades, not doing anything. There was a strange tension in the air. I felt awkward but I didn't want to leave.
"Should I take off my blouse and just wear my bra?" she broke the silence. "Would you like that, Francis?"
"Yes, Mom," I whispered.
"Then do it. Take it off for me."
I reached around and fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. I was all thumbs but Mom was very patient. Finally, I had all the buttons undone and I pulled the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms. I stood behind her, holding her blouse in my hands.
She turned to face me. I looked down, avoiding her gaze. She wasn't wearing a normal bra! I could see her tits through the see-through red material and her nipples standing up, stiff and proud.
"They really do like you looking at them, don't they?" she laughed softly, as her nipples visibly stiffened even more. "Do you like them, Francis?"
I nodded my head. "I love them, Mom."
She smiled and reached out to pick up the glasses. "Love? Well, let's go drink some lemonade to that."
As she walked away I thrilled to the discovery of her new matching red panties. They were just a tiny triangular patch that barely reached up onto her ass cheeks. I could plainly see through the material to the globes underneath, and the crack of her ass. The slowness of her pace could have been to avoid spilling the glasses of lemonade but I got the impression she also wanted me to look at her ass. My cock swelled at that thought.
We finally made it to the coffee table and Mom set the glasses down. Then she stood, and just stayed like that. I stood back a little, so I could keep admiring her ass, the narrowness of her waist and the flare of her hips.
"Do you like them?" she asked.
"What?" I feigned innocence.
"My new panties, of course." My cock stiffened at hearing her say panties. "They're the smallest, ... the coolest ... ones I could find without going to one of those thong things." I immediately pictured a thong dividing her pearish cheeks. My cock hardened even more.
"Do you like it too?" she asked.
"Like what?" I played the innocence thing again.
She was having none of it. "My ass, silly. I know you were looking at it. A woman can tell when she's being admired. Do guys your age like little asses too?"
"Yes, they do," I said, and added, "I sure do."
Mom laughed out loud. "Well, your father doesn't. He thinks its too skinny."
"He's crazy."
"You think so?"
"I sure do, Mom."
There was a pause. Nothing was said for a minute. Then Mom broke the silence.
"They're made of a special material that keeps you cool. Would you like to feel it?"
"Your panties?" I asked.
"Yes, the material. What were we just talking about?"
"Sure," I replied. I reached my hand down, cautiously stretching my finger tips out to touch the material of her panties. She pushed her ass back a little, pressing my fingers flat onto her panties and forming a cup to hold her right cheek in my palm. "Yeah," I said, "it feels silky, kind of slippery." I moved my hand around on her cheek, gently squeezing her little globe as if testing the panty material. I cupped her left cheek in my other hand and began gently kneading that globe as well.
"Don't get too naughty, Francis," Mom cautioned me. Ignoring her reproach, I continued to knead her flesh.
"You'd be even cooler in a thong, Mom."
"I doubt it, my butt's too skinny for a thong."
"No it's not. You're perfect for a thong. You'd cause accidents if you walked down the street in one."
Mom burst out laughing. "You're just trying to make me feel good. Men would laugh if they saw my skinny butt in a thong."
I leaned in over Mom's shoulder. "Trust me, Mom," I said, my voice thick, "You'd look awesome in a thong. Men would look, and they wouldn't laugh."
"Do you really think so? Do you think I'd look good in a thong?"
"Why don't you buy one tomorrow and try it on? See for yourself."
"Actually, I did," she confessed. "It's in my shopping bags," she tossed her head in the direction of the hallway.
"Go get it," I said, releasing her cheeks and patting her ass. I didn't say it like a request. Mom looked surprised, even a bit shocked, but she wasn't angry.
"No. I don't think so," she dashed my hopes.
"Well, you bought it. What are you going to do with it?"
"Oh, I'll probably just throw it away," she mused.
"No, don't do that," I protested.
"Why? Is there someone you'd like to give it to, to try it on for you?"
"No."
"Would you like me to wear it, then?" she teased.
As I started to nod my head, she went on, "For your father?" A quizzical expression formed on her face.
I shook my head no. "For you, then?" She smiled, the quizzical expression becoming more exaggerated. "You wouldn't want to see your own mother in thong?"
"Yes," I answered, my hopes rising again.
"Francis, you wicked, wicked boy," she teased me, having a laugh at my expense. I was too tense to laugh along with her and her face quickly sobered. "We'll see, then. Maybe I'll let you have a quick peek tomorrow or the next day."
She sat on the couch, and I sat on the other end, watching her. She swung her feet onto the couch, pulling her magazine up, obscuring her face and blocking my view of her see through bra. I shifted my gaze down to her legs and along her thighs to her panties. As I watched, she slowly opened her legs until I could look directly at the front of her panties. I could see through the material to her pussy underneath and the crevice dividing her pouting lips. I swear that once in a while she twisted her hips forward, accenting her pussy mound for me. She kept her legs open for me the whole time until it was near time for Dad to come home.
Finally, she dropped her magazine and said, "Let's go upstairs and change, Francis, before your father comes home."
Mom walked to the stairs, a slow sensuous walk that exaggerated the sway of her hips. My face was level with the jut of her buttocks as we slowly climbed the stairs. When we reached her room, she told me to wait there for a minute and disappeared inside. A moment later she reappeared wearing a robe loosely clutched to her chest. It splayed open under her breasts, widening as it crossed her hips, exposing a tuft of golden pubic hair. With her free hand, she held out her red bra and panties. "Here," she said, "keep these in your room for me. I don't think it would be good if your father saw them."
I whacked off more than once that night thinking about my mother and the highlights of that day, capped by the glimpse of her pubic hair and her choice for me to keep her bra and panties. I went to sleep dreaming about her wearing a thong for me.
The next day, Dad went in to the office late. He said he had a dinner meeting and would be home late, so he wasn't going in until noon. I could hardly wait for him to leave. The morning dragged on for an eternity. It was sweltering. Mom looked flushed and sweaty. I was boiling but didn't feel I could drop down to just my shorts with my Dad there. Finally, he left after a quick lunch. Mom gave him a kiss goodbye, wished him luck in his meeting, and went upstairs.
I waited impatiently for her to reappear but finally gave up and started to read my comics while sitting on the couch. I didn't hear her, but she was suddenly just standing there, barefoot in a white t-shirt which clearly showed two very stiff and long nipples poking up underneath. Her face was flushed and she was breathing in short, rapid breaths, as if excited about something. I think we'd both been tense waiting for Dad to leave, and were both a little wound up.
"When Dad left, it felt like a visitor had left," she said. "What a weird feeling."
"Yeah, I know," I replied. "It was uncomfortable, and now it's kind of like the way it should be."
"Yeah, weird," she said. She tugged down on her t-shirt, forcing it down so hard on her nipples I thought they would burst through. She arched her back and twisted from side to side. "But we're alone now," she said, coyly.
I didn't say anything. I just watched her.
"Would like to see something?" she asked, taking our little game further.
"Yes," I answered, my mouth dry.
She raised her hand behind her head, pulled on something and shook her head, her yellow blonde hair falling out about her shoulders. Then she lifted the bottom of her t-shirt up to the level of her hips, exposing a little red patch that covered her pussy.
I stared. "Mom, is that ..."
"You wanted me to wear it for you, didn't you?" she cut me off, dropping the t-shirt to hide the red patch.
I stood up and she turned away, walking to the middle of the room.
"But, I can't ..."
My voice trailed off as Mom pulled her t-shirt up with both hands at her sides. Her bare ass came into view, separated by a red strand of material that disappeared between her cheeks.
"Well, have a look, then, Mr. Impatient."
I stepped behind her. Her ass was essentially bare. I reached down to take possession of her cheeks.
"I don't think your father would approve of that, young man."
"I'm just checking the material."
Mom laughed. "Don't get too clever, Francis. I never said you could touch my bare ass."
"You didn't say I couldn't, either." Then, more submissively, "Let me, Mom. Just for a while. You look awesome, just like I said you would."
"Will you stop when I tell you? No arguments?"
"Yes, Mom. I'll stop right away." I continued kneading her cheeks, pulling them apart and squeezing them together again. Hanging my head over her shoulders, I looked at her nipples poking out her shirt. "Can I touch them too, Mom?"
Her voice was a little hoarse when she answered. "No, Francis. I don't think I can go that far."
"Please, Mom. You said they like it when I look at them. Let me touch them a little bit. I'll stop when you say," I whined, following the same path that succeeded in letting me fondle her ass.
She didn't answer. I released her cheeks and pushed my hands around to her tummy, then started sliding them up over her t-shirt toward her breasts. She watched them approach but didn't say a thing. My fingers moved over the swells of her small tits and then on to close on her long nipples. I brushed over them and back, pinched them softly through the material of her t-shirt, and tugged on them gently. Releasing, I flicked them again with my fingers, back and forth, many times like I was strumming chords on a guitar. Mom moaned. Surprisingly, I could feel them grow even more. They were already stiff and long. Groaning, I grasped them again, pinching and twisting, rolling them between my fingers, tugging. Again I released them and flicked them back and forth with my fingers, then grasped them again. Mom was moaning softly, constantly.
"You have fantastic tits," I whispered in her ear. I pushed my shorts into her cheeks.
"Oh Francis, that feels so good. It's been so long. He never touches them, anymore." She sounded as if she was about to cry.
"I'll touch them for you," I murmured in her ear. "I love touching them."
She let me continue fondling her tits. She didn't stop me until I whispered in her ear, "I want to suck them."
"No, Francis" she cried. She pulled away from me, walking back toward the couch.
I pursued her, getting my hands back on her tits.
"I can't let you do that, Francis," she protested, but she let me continue to manipulate her nipples.
I didn't mention sucking them again but I kept working her tits. After a moment I pushed her back onto the couch, sitting her down. Kneeling next to her, I pulled her feet up on either side of me and pushed her back onto the arm. Regaining my hold on her nipples, I pinched them between thumbs and forefingers. She lay back, eyes closed.
"I'm just going to look at them, Mom," I whispered. I started bunching the t-shirt up in my hands until her tits were bared to my eyes. I began kneading them, covering them with my hands, bending her nipples around in my palms. I pulled her t-shirt up and pushed it over her face, covering it. She became very excited, her breathing quick and harsh. I squeezed her little tits, forcing her long nipples to stand straight up. Leaning forward, I took one into my mouth and began to suck and swirl my tongue around it. She gasped loudly, over and over as I sucked.
"Ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhh."
I sucked her tits, switching back and forth, pinching and flicking the nipple of the other with my fingers. I felt her legs come up and her feet cross over to rest on my back. Looking down between us, I could see her pelvis straining up, trying to come into contact with mine. She's really horny, I thought. Move now. Take her!
I pulled her up and swung her around, pushing her to the back of the couch, resting her on my upper thighs. Her shirt fell down around her neck and her eyes opened but I delicately pulled it up and over her face again, then dropped my head to suck her tits once more. When I heard her moaning, I looked again and saw her shirt moving in and out of her mouth with her rasping breath, like a speaker vibrating to deafening music. Moving my mouth back to her tits, I used my hands to push my shorts down. Keeping my mouth on her, I slipped my hands under her to grasp her ass. I found the thong and pulled it to the side over one cheek. Then I slid my hands up under the bottom of her thighs until I grasped the underside of her knees. Pushing her knees up high, I slid her up on the back of the couch, and pressed my pelvis in. Pulling my mouth off her tits, I dropped her down, guiding her until the head of my hard cock pushed against her pussy.
"No," she cried through the shirt covering her face. "No, Francis," she repeated.
My cock parted her lips.
"No," she cried again, but her body betrayed her. She moaned as my cock found little resistance from her wet pussy lips, digging into her an inch. I held her knees high and wide.
"No?" I asked.
"No," she gasped.
"No?" I asked again, pushing my cock into her another inch.
"No, oh, no, Francis." I pushed further in. "No, don't, baby, don't."
"Unnnngghhhh," she moaned as I pushed all the way in.
"Don't what, Mom?" I gasped.
"Don't fuck me," she gasped back.
"I won't, Mom," I said as I drew my cock back, and shoved it back in. "I won't fuck you," I said as I started thrusting into her.
We repeated this exchange over and over again, back and forth, "Don't fuck me" followed by "I won't" as our pace steadily increased and our moans grew ever louder. It wasn't really that long before I was really banging her and her gasps were one long continuous moan. I squirted my juice into her, my bare cock spewing my raw spunk.
I collapsed back on the couch, falling away from her as I slipped to the floor. Mom got up right away, unsteady on her feet, pulled her thong off and threw it at me.
"Don't you follow me," she barked as she turned to go upstairs.
"I won't," I said, but got up to trail her just the same.
"Don't come upstairs," she commanded as I started up the stairs behind her, mesmerized by her bare ass.
"I won't," I repeated.
"Don't you dare come into my room," she said softly, as she walked down the hallway and passed through her bedroom door.
"I won't, Mom," I guaranteed as I padded behind her to her bed.
"Don't try to fuck me again," she said as she stretched out on her tummy on the bed, lifting her ass up into the air and spreading her legs.
"I won't fuck you again, Mom," I promised as I shuffled in behind her and nosed my cock up to her pussy.
"Francis, no! Don't take me from behind," she cried.
"Never!" I gasped as I shoved my cock all the way into her cunt.
"Don't fuck me really hard, son."
"I won't, Mom" I agreed as I reached out to grasp her hair, tugged her head back and began to really shove it in her.
"D ... O ... O ... O ... N'T," she yelled as my bucking my hips slammed against her ass.
A few minutes later, as I lay spent on her back, her legs splayed wide, my still embedded cock dripping inside her, I whispered in her ear, "Don't milk me with your pussy, Mom."
"I won't, son" she said, laughing as she clutched me with her cunt, tugging my cock down into the mattress.
She squeezed even harder as I pulled my swelling cock out of her. "Don't pull out, son," she begged.
"I won't, Mom," I lied as I pulled my tool slowly out.
"Don't shove it back into me ... please don't." I slid my hardening tool into her as slowly as I possibly could. When I was fully embedded in her I kept pushing in short shoves, moving her up until her head was against the headboard. I pushed my tongue into her ear.
"Don't fuck me all afternoon, Mom," I groaned.
"Not a chance son," she laughed, her throaty voice stiffening my cock. She twisted and pulled on me with her clutching pussy. "Your Dad won't be home until late tonight," she laughed again as she splayed her arms out to her sides and began moving her hips up and down on my stiff member, fully plugged inside her from behind, between her wide open legs.
I'll let you know more about my suddenly horny mother in my next letter. Looking forward to receiving more from all of you. Until then.
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After that letter, I needed a break. When I wandered out of the study I ran into Mom who had just finished making some sandwiches and was about to call me. She had already fed Dad. An hour ago I would have been much more disappointed to miss out on a feeding session but now I was eager to return to his study to search for Dad's next letter. I found it near the bottom of the fourth bundle.
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Well friends, this is more of an epilogue than a continuation of our story. As I said at the end of my last letter, Mom and I were together for years. It wasn't until her sex drive waned and then stopped completely that I began my search for a wife, at Mother's insistence.