The Mom Memories - Chapter 6 - Alwayswantedto - Literotica

 The Mom Memories Ch. 06

by alwayswantedto©

All characters are 18 years or older.

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From Ch. 05

"No, no, not there," she cried.

"Ok, just in front of Dad then," I panted.

She didn't answer. I slid my cock back to plunge it into her pussy as she raised her ass up to me. The promise of having her ass again cranked me up. I rammed into her until I came. I don't know why that excited me so much. I hoped it wasn't because she didn't want me to.

As much as I was hoping to have her ass that night, we didn't have sex for several days. I was worn out. But I did read some more letters. That was becoming something of an addiction. What would happen when I ran out?

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That wouldn't be a worry for a while anyway since there were a lot more bundles of letters in the box that I hadn't looked through. I began reading through them, one by one, instead of skimming through looking for particular names. I even went back to read some of the ones I'd passed over. One of the first of these was from Colin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"New dress?" I queried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Anytime," I answered.

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

I picked up the mug and handed it to her.

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

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

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

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

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

"Dad use to get frisky like that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Great."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mmmmmm," Mom sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," she whispered back.

"Would you like me to?"

"Tomorrow."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded.

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

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Unfortunately, Mom wasn't home yet so I couldn't relieve the larger boner I'd grown reading Colin's letter. I moved on to the next letter which was from Calvin, whose last letter had described how the sexy haircuts has led to sex while she was 'sleeping'. But not satisfied with banging his Mom while she 'slept' he wanted to have her while she was awake and had to acknowledge what was going on. My own relationship with Mom had progressed to the state where I understood Calvin's need to push his Mom even further. Eagerly, I sunk into his letter.

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Though Mom had made Dad happy by abandoning notions of a home barber shop, I asked Mom to continue cutting my hair because she did such a great job. So once again I was in the kitchen after dinner getting my hair cut while Dad watched a game in the living room. I had waited until later before asking Mom to cut my hair, hoping Dad would be hitting the sack soon after. But the game turned into a long battle with several periods of overtime.

By that time, I had been fondling Mom's tits for quite some time. Her nipples, fully engorged, were sticking out proudly from her tits. We were both wearing robes, she with just panties underneath and I with just my boxer shorts. I pulled her closer to me, forcing her to straddle my knees, so I could run my hands up and down her sides through her still belted robe, over her ass and down her flanks. She kept whispering for me to stop it but she never backed away.

Eventually, I slipped my hand to her inner thighs and started stroking up and down from her knee to her panties, gradually shortening my strokes until I was just rubbing the softest skin within four inches of her pussy. Without warning, I suddenly cupped my right hand and pressed it against her pussy, holding it there. Mom stopped dead still, her hands falling to grip my shoulders. She didn't move.

Encouraged, I squeezed my hand, scrunching her pussy several times. I slipped my thumb up to rest it against the top of her mound and began sliding it lightly side to side as I milked her pussy with my palm. As her pussy became damp, I pressed my fingers into her panties, dipping the material between her lips, spreading them under the material. I started to move my fingers back and forth in a small oval, rubbing her increasingly wet pussy.

I could tell she was looking down, watching me rub her. Knowing this, I reached down with my left hand to fish my hard pole out of my boxers.

"Calvin," she whispered, her breathing ragged, "I can't rub you with it sticking up like that."

"Yes you can," I disagreed, reaching up with my now free left hand to pull at her panties. She wriggled her pelvis to block my attempts to pull her panties down, rewarding my thrusting fingers with welcome pussy action. She seemed to momentarily forget her efforts to block me as her thighs clenched around my shoving hand. During the foray, I managed to pull her panties off her ass to rest below her cheeks. With my thumb, I dragged the front waistband of her panties down, pulling it off her pussy.

Just then, we heard Dad yell, "What a game! I need a beer."

Mom suddenly sat on my legs, leaning forward to let her robed body cover my partially open robe and my fully extended cock just as Dad burst through the kitchen doorway heading for the fridge. He glanced our way, "What an incredible game."

As he opened the fridge in search of a beer he continued with a description of what was going on. When he pulled his head out, twisting the cap off his prize and tossing it at the sink, Mom rebuked me, "Stay still, Calvin. I don't want to poke your eye out!" She pushed my head to the side with one hand as she clipped at my eyebrows with the scissors which had remained in her hand the whole time.

Dad continued with his description, watching Mom work on me as she sat on my legs. "Stay still!" she repeated.

I don't know if her command was to convince Dad that we were in this compromising position because we were in the middle of a potentially dangerous hair operation, or if she was referring to the lunging efforts of my bare, hard cock which was, hidden by her robe and mine, pressed to her bare pussy lips, and trying valiantly to push inside. I moved my head, causing Mom to pull back with the scissors, facilitating the interpretation that we were in the midst of a delicate situation, which we were, but I did it more to cover some little hip movements in aid of my cock's endeavors.

Mom couldn't close her legs to keep my eager member away. Nor could she stand up with her panties below her cheeks and pulled down from her pussy in case her belted but loosened robe fell open revealing this inexplicable predicament. She had to stay the way she was until Dad left. But he'd just fetched his beer and the overtime interlude had just started. How long were they? Ten minutes? Twenty?

"Bob," Mom spoke sharply, "I'm trying to concentrate here. Go watch your game."

Interrupted, Dad nevertheless responded apologetically, "Oh, I'm sorry," and began to move away, but I stopped him.

"No wait, Dad. Tell me about the game," I pleaded. Dad leaned back into the counter, pleased, took a swig and began talking excitedly about the game again. Mom's eyes shot daggers at me. And I, I used the opportunity to slip my left hand through the hole in my robe pocket to push my erect cock forward toward my Mom, pressing it firmly against her open, bare and wet pussy. Looking out the corner of my eye, I could see Dad wasn't really watching us anymore, he was too excited about relating the actions of the game. I allowed my hips to rock up and down the barest amount -- hardly discernible without direct scrutiny, or so I hoped -- rubbing my cock through my mother's soaking pussy lips.

After a couple minutes of this action from which Mom couldn't retreat, she gave up trying. She didn't rock her hips back at me, but she quit trying to pull away, allowing me to freely rub my cock up and down her soaking trench. As the sounds of the game started anew, Dad moved past us to stand in the doorway. With his back to us, I quickly pulled my hips back drawing my cock away from Mom, pressed my hard, hard cock painfully forward and shoved it back toward her, embedding it a full inch in her open pussy.

Mom groaned just after Dad disappeared into the living room to once again watch the game, and I shoved my cock home, slowly sliding in to the hilt. Sliding my right hand around her waist, I used my left to pull her belt undone and part her robe. Pressing my hand on her belly, I pushed until she fell back, hooking her feet around the rear legs of my chair to brace herself and allowing her head and hair to dangle toward the floor. As the sounds of the game increased in intensity, I shoved my cock vigorously into my mother's cunt. Squish, squish, squish. God she was wet, and I was unbelievably hard. Suddenly I was gushing in her, my hips grinding, squirt, squirt, ... squirt.

We were still. My cock was fully embedded and still pulsing in Mom's pussy. Her throat was fully extended as her head reached back to lightly rest on the floor, her hair in disarray on the tiles. I couldn't see her face. Her belly was heaving in reaction to her rapid and heavy breaths. My cock still hard, I started moving again, slowly fucking her. She shook her head. "No, no," her hands waving in a negative signal. But I kept thrusting, slow but relentless. Her protestations stopped. Her pussy squeezed and clenched my cock as it bulged into her.

I lifted my weight from the chair and pushed it back, gently holding her until her hips rested on the floor. Holding her legs up, I placed one ankle on each side of my head and lowered myself on her, pressing her legs high toward her shoulders, jacknifing her body against the floor. Straddling her haunches with my cock fully shoved up her cunt, I started banging her hard. Not fast, but hard shoves, slamming into her, thrusting as hard as I could. Bam ... bam ... bam. The expression on her face, which I could now see, was intense. I grasped a tit in each hand and squeezed tightly, not gently. Bam ... bam ... bam. The loudness of the TV surely covered our illicit sounds.

Mom lifted her hands to my shoulders. "Uhhh ... uhhh ... unnnghhh," she moaned as I fucked her across the floor. I could already picture the look on her face as her head reached the bottom of the cupboards, anticipating with relish her blocked retreat from my hammering cock. If I could only reach it before I came again. I could feel another load of sperm ready tp blast again into her cum soaked pussy. Where were those cupboards?

"What the hell? ... What the FUCK! ... WHAT THE FUCK!!!"

That sound, that anger penetrated my head. Mom was oblivious, her eyes screwed tightly shut as if to keep the intensity of her orgasm inside. Groggily, the spunk already rushing out my shaft, I looked toward the source of the sound, finding my father's outraged face, realizing that I'd banged my mother across the kitchen floor, through the doorway and into the living room just as I gushed another load into my mother's cheating cunt.

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Holy mother. I guess that was the end of Calvin's maternal pussy. Where was my own mom? Standing with difficulty, my boner the culprit, I went in search of my own satisfaction. Finding Mom still not home, I engaged in a home improvement project in her bedroom. And then I waited. Fed Dad, unresponsive as usual. Waited. And waited. Then went to the study for another fix.

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Hi everyone. Francis here again. Refresher time. My Mom is a quite pretty, thin woman with really small tits (but great nipples) and a skinny ass. You may recall that, during our heat wave this past summer, Mom walked around the house in just a shirt without a bra, and then even no shirt, just her panties. She eventually let me play with her tits and even suck them. But when I pulled her t-shirt over her head I hit paydirt. She got very, very excited with her face covered and I quickly took advantage, plugging her right there on the couch. That was followed up by a great fuck session when I followed her upstairs even though she told me not to. As promised, this is what happened after that.

As I guess is fairly common, at least according to many of the letters circulated amongst this group, Mom had second thoughts about what we did. She acted like it hadn't even happened and started wearing clothes around the house again, even though it was still really hot. I thought this would wane, given the heat, but she insisted on being fully dressed. When I commented about the heat and how much more comfortable she'd be if she lost her blouse, or her pants, or her skirt on different occasions, she invariably got angry with me. So I quit trying.

Then one day I had an idea and brought a peace offering home for her. A present.

"But what is it?" she asked, turning the package over and over.

"Open it and see," I said.

"You shouldn't be wasting your money on presents for me," she complained. "You should be saving for school."

"Mom, come on. Open it," I insisted.

"Alright," she sounded put out but looked pleased nonetheless.

In that motherly fashion, she slowly opened the package being careful not to tear the paper. After folding the fancy wrapping paper, she opened the clothing box within to reveal an elegant pair of shimmering silk pajamas with a matching robe.

"Oh my," she exclaimed, very surprised and pleased, "it's beautiful. But this must be so expensive," she complained a moment later. "Francis, you really shouldn't have. You must take it back."

"No way, Mom. You've been dying in this heat. This outfit will keep you cool, and it's very proper, even demure."

Mom nodded her agreement as she surveyed the buttons that ran all the way up the front of the top, the pants that would run half way down her calves, and the thicker coat that would cover the whole thing down to the middle of her thighs as an extra protective layer from prying eyes without adding much of an insulating effect because of the silky material.

"Francis, you really shouldn't have."

"Go try it on Mom."

"But I can't keep it. It isn't right."

"Just try it on," I insisted, pushing her toward the stairs.

Finally, the woman in her took over. She gave in and took the outfit upstairs. A few minutes later, she reappeared at the top of the stairs and made a graceful entrance, in a slow and elegant descent. She really did look truly beautiful in this outfit, surpassing my expectations by quite a measure.

I took her hand at the bottom of the stairs, leading her a few steps and then twirling her around, holding her hand high above her head. She laughed and primped, obviously pleased with the look and feel of the pajama set.

"Can I really keep it?" she asked, changing her mind.

"Of course. You'd hurt my feelings if you didn't."

"It feels so good, so cool and flattering. Does it look OK?" she asked, suddenly insecure.

"You look gorgeous in it Mom," I assured her, the honesty in my eyes instantly reassuring her. She danced away to the kitchen.

"Come on," she tinkled, I'll make us some margaritas to celebrate.

I followed her to the kitchen where she started to make our drinks.

"It's very conservative, Mom," I commented as I eyed her from behind, "but I imagine it would be quite racy without the jacket, even buttoned up to your neck."

"Oh, I think so," she agreed innocently, "it really clings to you. You just couldn't wear it without the jacket.

Mom finished making the margaritas and we went outside to sit in the shade and drink them. We drank two more apiece, with me offering to make both, an offer she gladly accepted in the heat. When we finished those, I insisted she make the next batch but she claimed she couldn't drink anymore since she was already too tipsy. But I insisted, arguing that I had made two to her one and she owed me. I followed her into the kitchen to watch her make the drinks.

"Why don't you take the jacket off Mom?"

"No, I don't think so," her voice slurring a little.

"Come on Mom," I whined, "just let me see what it looks like."

"It really is too racy, Francis. I don't think I'd feel comfortable."

"But it buttons right up to your neck, Mom, for heavens sake."

"Yes, but it really is clingy, it's very revealing, and you know you get carried away, you don't just look."

"But you can drape the scarf over your shoulders. It will cover you just as much as the jacket and be even cooler."

"The scarf," she asked, "what scarf?

"You didn't see it?" I replied, "I'll go get it."

I ran into the living room and grabbed the scarf from behind a pillow where I'd hidden it earlier that day and returned to the kitchen carrying the long scarf of the same shimmering green material. Mom looked at it with approval after seeing that it possessed the same opaque qualities as the rest of the outfit. She slipped the jacket off, being careful to keep her chest facing away from me. I swapped the scarf for the jacket and carefully hung it over the back of a chair. When I turned to face her, Mom had draped the scarf over her neck. I imagine she had placed it strategically to cover her breasts, or nipples to be more accurate in her case.

From behind, I could see every trace of her hips, the cup of her ass below each cheek, and the line between them. Not that I could see through the material. It just clung to her flesh as she had said, like the lady in the shop had assured me when I asked for something very sexy for my girlfriend that would still make her feel as if she was dressed demurely. That saleswoman knew her stuff. Any woman would look hotter in this thing that she would naked.

I walked up behind Mom and stood very close to her while she finished up our drinks. "Are you really not going to let me see you in just the pajama part?"

"No Francis."

"Just a peek, Mom. I'll be good."

"Just a peek?" she asked. "You promise you'll be good."

"I will, Mom. But not too quick. Be fair."

"Alright. But just a peek and then we'll finish our drinks outside."

Mom turned around, leaning against the counter, her hands holding the ends of the scarf. She was looking up at me for confirmation. I nodded. She cast her eyes down, her hands pulling the scarf tight as she did, stretching across her chest, outlining her little bumps and the long nipples poking up from their shallow rise. She pulled the scarf quickly away to each side and then back just as fast.

"No fair, Mom. That wasn't fair," I complained.

Mom laughed. "Ok, ok, I couldn't resist a little tease." She stopped laughing, then with a serious look on her face, she slowly pulled the scarf apart again. This time, she gave me plenty of time to check out her chest, my eyes of course focusing on her nipples. I could swear they grew as I watched. I could hardly contain my excitement knowing she was getting excited too, despite her stance that she wasn't interested in going down that path again. Her nipples had definitely hardened.

When she looked like she was about to close the scarf, I beat her to the punch, turning away. "Thanks Mom, I really appreciate you letting me see."

I grabbed both our drinks and led the way out to the patio, smiling to myself at how well I had handled that.

After we sipped our way through the drinks, I offered to make one final set. I stood up and retrieved my glass. Mom was clearly at the limit of her alcohol consumption, and looked like she might nod off.

"Did you really want another one, Mom?" She shook her head. "Ok, I'll just put the glasses away. Hey, you know what else you can use the scarf for, Mom?"

She didn't respond at first, just laying there with her eyes closed, then quietly, "What?"

"A sunscreen," I answered, "You can drape it over your face and hardly know it's there." I retrieved her glass and passed it to my other hand which was already holding my glass. With my free hand, I grasped the end of the scarf and tugged it from behind her neck as she lay on the lounge. Quickly, I draped it over her face. "Try it while I put these away."

I hated to leave, wanting instead to watch her nipples, now bereft of the scarf and covered only by the pajamas, rise and fall with her breathing. I hurried back but approached stealthily to conceal my return. I stood watching her breasts and the way her breath moved the scarf as it lay over her face, triggering the memory of her rapid excitement when I first covered her face. My cock stirred.

Quietly, I moved forward, kneeling at her side. I pressed the scarf back on each side of her head, stretching it across her face. Moving my hands to her face, I gently pressed the scarf around her face with my cupped fingers whispering, "It's neat how the scarf accents your features." Mom didn't react except her breathing quickened. I circled her mouth, running my finger around the outline of her lips, toward the inside, finally dipping in a little as her lips parted, poking the scarf in a bit. "Keep it on for a few minutes," I continued whispering as I wound the scarf behind her head, crossing it and pulling it tight in a knot. Mom was definitely breathing faster.

I moved my eyes down to her breasts and followed with my hands. Pressing the material to her sides, I again whispered, "This material is very flattering, Mom." Her nipples were jutting from her chest. "It really accents your features. Definitely very flattering."

I pinched the pajamas on each side and moved it up and down on her chest, teasing her nipples as it brushed over them. I kept doing this, without rebuke, for several minutes. Moms was breathing in short, rapid gasps.

"I think you've had too much to drink, Mom. I'm going to take you upstairs so you can have a nap before Dad gets home." I slid my hand under her and picked her up. She circled her arms around my neck and pressed her face into my chest.

Upstairs, I lay her on the bed. She waited, her breathing still indicating that she was excited by this blindfold scenario. I let her wait for a full minute before moving my hands to press the material to her sides, deliciously outlining her tits. Once again I moved the material along her sides to brush it back and forth over her nipples. After a few minutes of this, I let go of the material to take possession of her tits. I pinched her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, rolling and pulling them away form her. She gasped audibly. Moving my hands to her buttons, I slowly I undid each one, without a sound from Mom except for her breathing. I pulled the pajamas apart just enough to expose her breasts. Again, I let her wait as I stared at her delicious tits with such incredibly hard and long nipples. I wondered if she knew how gorgeous her tiny tits really were.

I moved my hands down her legs, pushing them apart, then slid in over the inside of her thighs until I cupped my hands around her pussy. Pushing her legs even further apart, I pressed the pajamas tight to her thighs, stretching the thin material across her pussy to highlight her mound.

"Look at that," I whispered. I formed my hands like a viewfinder and pressed in harder to accentuate her pussy even more. Pulling my hands away, I stood up straight and let her wait again. As she lay there, her legs closed but I pushed them apart again. I tugged her pajamas down, overcoming the resistance at her hips and moving on until they were very low, stretching across her pubic area just over her pussy with her hair tufting out above the waistband. She gasped again. I had surprised her. I'm sure she thought I would return to her.

Minutes later, I grasped the bottom of her pajama legs and pulled, tugging them off her pelvis and down her legs. She wasn't wearing anything underneath and tried to close her legs but I pushed them apart yet again. Wait. Wait with your face covered, I thought, wait for it.

Her breathing had slowed and softened but she drew in a sharp breath when she heard me slowly drag my zipper down. I undressed, in no hurry -- with the scarf acting as a blindfold, I somehow knew I didn't need to rush. I made a point of letting her hear my clothes rustle as I pealed them off and dropped them to the floor. When I at last threw my shorts down hard I surprised her again by not waiting. Quickly I crawled on my knees between her legs, slipping my hands behind her knees and pushing her thighs back, raising her ass and pussy toward my advancing cock. I nosed up and shoved in right away, pushing until I was fully inside her.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she squealed.

Impatiently, I began fucking her hard. I didn't pause, I didn't stop, I just hammered into her.

"Unnngghhh, unnnnggghhhh, unnnnngggghhhh."

Slap, slap, slap, slap ... steady and fast my thighs slapped against her upturned buttocks. Not faster, not slower, just a steady furious fuck.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," I repeated, over and over.

I kept it up until I exploded in her. I let her legs fall to my sides and lay there with my cock still in her. She lay still except for a periodic jerk of her hips and pull on my cock as it lost its rigidity. I slipped out of her and rose to go clean myself in my parents ensuite.

When I returned, Mom had rolled over onto her tummy, still naked. I imagine she was waiting for me to go before removing the blindfold. As I approached the bed, the sight of her ass, her legs tight together with her right foot crossed over her left leg near the ankle, fired me up again. Kneeling on the bed, my cock was already stiffening. Delicately, I lifted her right leg and pulled it to the side, gently urging her legs apart. She complied, opening a narrow gorge up to her ass.

I waddled forward until my knees were straddling her thighs. Leaning over, I lowered my pelvis until my cock dipped between her thighs, not touching. Slowly, I moved my dangling cock ahead until it bumped against her, below her ass, right at the apex of her thighs, the head touching her pussy.

"Ohhhh."

I rubbed it up and down her slit, trying without success to move it inside.

"ohhhhhhh."

"Lift up, baby," I whispered, "Lift it for me."

Mom lifted her hips up a couple of inches. My cockhead slipped in an inch.

"ohhhhhhhhhh."

Back and forth I urged my hardening member but the angle wasn't sufficient for me to go deeper.

"Come on, baby, lift it," I pleaded, "let me come in."

Up another couple of inches. I slipped in another inch or so.

"ohhhhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhh."

I slid back and forth, pushing to gain further entry.

"ohhhhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhhh."

Then I pushed in one long, slow shove, lifting her several inches on my own.

"Unnnnngggghhhhhhhh."

"That's it, that's it," I cried. When I was fully in her, I squeezed my knees together, forcing hers between and her pussy tight on my embedded cock. Slipping my hands down her waist toward her head which still lay on the bed, I took hold of the scarf. Withdrawing, I tugged on the scarf, pulling her head up from the bed until her face rested on her chin. I pulled my cock right out, paused, and then slipped in back in a long slow push. I repeated this for a couple of minutes, resisting the urge to begin slamming into her again. I was rewarded with a low moan which began building as I maintained my slow, deliberate fuck. As she became more audible and her moans lengthened, I spoke again, no longer whispering, "No one fucks you like this. Only I fuck you like this."

She moaned louder.

"Isn't that right?" I bulged my cock into her on that thrust. She moaned even louder.

"Right?" I insisted, "Right?"

"Yes," her voice was halting, then in time with my thrusts, "yes ... yes ... yes."

I kept it up, every few thrusts I shoved in harder, forcing a grunt. I was able to last this time until she finally came. I pushed her flat on the bed, digging my cock in her as she shuddered against the mattress, pushing her pussy even further into the bed on her own. When she was finally still, I slid out, quietly picked up all my clothes, and left.

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I was so horny. Leaving the study, I checked the driveway and saw that Mom's car was there. She'd come in without my noticing. She wasn't in the kitchen but there were bags of new groceries sitting on the table and the counter, and some new dishes on the counter. She must have made Dad his lunch and taken it up. I followed, finding her spoon feeding Dad as she knelt, sitting back on her ankles beside him on the bed. She was wearing a simple cotton housedress with a loose pleated skirt that draped over her legs. I didn't mention that I'd already fed him when I completed my little home improvement project.

"Hey Mom, what' up." I greeted her casually although it was hard to disguise my pent up desire.

"Oh, nothing," she replied, "I was just shopping."

"Oh," I carried on the casual act as I climbed up on the bed beside her, "Did you get any new outfits?"

"No, just groceries," she answered, spooning more yogurt and fruit into Dad's mouth, her eyes shifting to the left toward my home handiwork. She tried feeding Dad some more but gave up, leaning forward to set the bowl down on the bedside table. Leaning back to rest on her haunches, she looked directly at my project and asked, "What is that?"

"What," I answered innocently."

"Don't give me that. You've ruined a mahogany headboard."

"It was necessary. For Dad."

"For your father?" she asked, clearly dubious.

"Yes," I answered simply.

"How can that help your father? Is it to hold him up? He can't have his arms back like that."

"No, you don't understand. I'll show you how it works."

I pressed her shoulder to get her to turn her back to the headboard, then pulled her legs to bring her down to the bed on her back, slipping the pillow out so her head was directly on the sheet. Her dress had ridden up on her thighs as I dragged her down.

"I don't see how ..."

"Just wait."

I grasped Mom's right ankle and lifted it up, pushing her leg back until I could slip her small foot through one of the loops I'd attached to the top of the headboard, and then cinched it tight.

"What do you think ..."

Quickly, I grasped her left ankle and pushed that foot up and through the other loop, cinching that tight too. She was now laying with her thighs bent along her sides and her calves parallel with the headboard, both feet firmly held against it. Her ass was lifted uncomfortably up off the bed so I slipped the pillow underneath her hips. 

"David ...," Mom's voice was angry.

"Shhhh, just wait." I placed my knees over her hands, stretched down alongside her body, so she couldn't twist away. "I'm just going to let Dad see the backs of your thighs. Remember how beautiful I said they were. He should be able to see them." I reached over to pull my father's face so he was looking in our direction.

"David, I don't think ..." her voice seemed a little less angry now that she understood, but she didn't seem at all committed to letting me continue.

"Shhhhhh," I quieted her again, pulling her skirt completely away to expose her up stretched thighs. I began a tender massage up and down her legs. I caressed her for a long time before gradually working my fingers deeper inside and closer to her panties. Eventually, I began crossing my hands so each was stroking both legs, brushing over her pussy and bottom on each transition. By the time half an hour had passed, I had long been pausing with each hand for an up and down stroke along her pussy, through the furrow between her damp lips, digging her panties further in on each pass.

Mom had not said a word. Her face, at first turned away from Dad, had been oriented his way for quite some time now. Her breathing was deep and regular and she seemed, to all intents and purposes, to be concentrating on enjoying my loving massage. I continued my upstroke with my right hand off her leg and reached behind the headboard, pulling the scissors away that I had taped there earlier. Mom didn't even notice.

Slipping the blade under her panties on her right side, I sliced through the white cotton. Moving the same hand around, I cut through the other side, and tossed the scissors away. Pulling the front part of her torn panties away, I used both hands to hold her buttocks, staring down at her wide open, bare pussy. Leisurely, I lowered my head to her waiting quim and dipped my tongue in near the bottom, dragging it up between her wet lips, digging inside her welcoming cunt.

"Ohhhhhhh, godddd, Davy."

I lapped at her like a very thirsty but very gentle dog, moving my tongue side to side periodically for a little variation, but mostly just lapping away, sometimes right out and over her clit. I kept at her, relentlessly, until her breathing was so very ragged and hoarse, until she came, squirting on my face, deluging my cheeks with her slippery oil, her hips shuddering and her knees vibrating against the headboard.

Calmly, I stood and undressed, completely, even my socks. I lowered myself slowly, my feet beside her haunches, aiming my cock at her pink, glistening cunt. Down, down, down until I entered her, lowering myself still further until the inside of my legs hit home against her ass. Kneeling there, fully in her, I paused. I reached ahead to grab the headboard with both hands, then started moving in and out of her, lifting my own haunches up and dropping into her until the backs of my thighs slapped into hers.

"I'm moving him out of here," I gasped out between ragged breaths, "tomorrow."

That was my most glorious come inside my mother to date. I didn't release her until I had fully cleaned up, nor did she try to get out on her own. True to my word, when Mom returned home the next afternoon, Dad was set up in my room. She never said a word. She simply fed Dad in my bed and when bedtime rolled around, she went upstairs to get ready for bed. I followed a few minutes later when she was slipping under the covers, leaning back against the pillows she propped up between the ankle hoops. She picked up a book and began reading, ignoring me.

I took a leak in my parents ensuite and brushed my teeth with the toothbrush I had brought in from the bathroom. Stepping back into the bedroom, I walked to the bed and stripped completely naked before slipping under the covers. I moved to cuddle against her. Still no reaction. I slipped my left hand under her thighs, which were raised so she could brace her book against her knees, and moved it up so I could rest it against the panties under her nightie.

Surprisingly, her pussy was bare. I let my fingers rest on her, thinking I shouldn't disturb her reading, but couldn't help wiggling it about once in a while until eventually my fingertips were dipping inside a moistening cunt. I poked my long finger in to the first knuckle, sliding it up and down her in her ever moistening clit. A few minutes later, her book snapped shut and the light went out. She slid down beside me. I managed to keep my finger in her.

"Do you want to wait for the morning?" I asked.

"No," she whispered, as she swung her leg over me. She didn't waste a second before her cunt found and enveloped my cock, taking my swollen member deep inside her. Straightening herself, she sat above me, dimly discernible in the night.

"Now you're in for a pounding," she said.