The Mom Memories - Chapter 7 - Alwayswantedto - Literotica

The Mom Memories Ch. 07

by alwayswantedto©

All characters are 18 years or older.

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From Ch. 06

"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.

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Mom was true to her word. She really worked me over that night. From the next day on, I assumed the role of my father, living with Mom as if I was her husband. Within weeks, Mom had finalized arrangements for her to assume power of attorney for Dad's affairs. She now had full financial control of our lives.

Mom never denied me sex at night and often initiated it. One night she mentioned several times that she was going to bed early and kept asking if I was coming. I ignored her, not picking up on her signals, and watched a favorite movie before hitting the sack myself. When I entered the bedroom, expecting her by then to be dead asleep, I found her laying on the bed, the covers stripped and heaped on the floor, her ankles firmly tied to the headboard, her eyes wild and her fingers wet from playing with herself.

Within two seconds my cock sprang to full mast but I resisted my first impulse which was to leap on the bed and impale her with my spear. Instead, I savored the taste of this treat for over half an hour. I sauntered to the end of the bed and, without a word, slowly stripped completely naked in front of her. You should have seen how her eyes clung to my cock as soon as it sprang free. She was sooooo ready.

I crawled up on the bed on my knees and worked my way toward her. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the first hard thrust but I simply pressed my elongated tool down to rest on her pussy, along her wet lips, gently sawing it back and forth in a leisurely fashion, prompting a low moan from her throat. When I lifted it away and didn't immediately shove it in, she opened her eyes.

"I better go brush my teeth, Mom. I'll be right back."

She looked shocked as I climbed off the bed. I took my time brushing my teeth and was thrilled to see the desperate look on her face when I re-entered the bedroom. I doubt she'd taken her eyes from the doorway the whole time I was gone.

Resuming my place, I continued to tease her with my cock, pulling it away frequently, sometime replaced with my fingers, sometimes with my mouth, but more often with nothing at all, leaving her cunt clutching at the air. It was fascinating to watch it grasping for satisfaction.

Of course, I worked her tits over as well. But my moment of inspiration arrived after I returned from another teasing excursion to the bathroom, this time to floss my teeth. With me, I brought a face cloth soaked in hot, soapy water and a towel. After sinking my tongue in her pussy for a few minutes, I pulled out and washed her ass inside and out with the face cloth, dried her off and then sunk my tongue in her cunt once more.

After several minutes of this, I pulled out and slipped down to tease her with tongue swirls around her pucker, teasing the crinkly knot with little jabs from the tip of my tongue. I returned frequently to lap and poke her cunt but I spent most of my time teasing her asshole, more and more often dipping my tongue into for a little swirl on the inside of her anal ring. She was moaning constantly now, her eyes closed tight, her face screwed up in an ecstatic expression. When I finally plunged my entire tongue deep in her ass and worked it furiously inside her, she came violently, her whole pelvis shaking wildly her legs rattling the headboard as her feet tried to pull out of her bindings.

While she was still shaking to the throes of her passion, I crouched above her and plunged deep into her pussy, abandoning myself to a wild, pounding fuck until she came again. I only noticed because of the way her cunt erratically squeezed my cock as I unloaded my sperm into her. I came so hard I was sure it would overfill her and gush out, but of course that was just a feeling.

After cleaning myself in the bathroom I returned to find Mom still laying with her ankles tied back to the headboard. Slipping into bed, she asked, "Can I get loose now?"

Surprised by the question, I simply said, "Yes, mother."

Mom used her hands to slip her ankles out of the straps and disappeared into the bathroom. Within seconds I heard the shower start. How my father missed out on a lifetime of sex with this incredible woman was beyond me. I didn't know it yet but I was just starting on my own road to discovery. I would learn that a woman doesn't just show you her mysteries, you have to seek them out on your own before she considers you worthy.

To amuse myself the next day -- Mom didn't often allow sex during the day -- I made myself a large drink and settled into the study for some recreational reading, something I'd been too busy to do over the past few weeks. There, I found the letter from Lorne.

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How intriguing to discover this group. I hope the story about my mother and I is sufficiently interesting that you vote to allow me in, and to share your stories with me.

My story is a little different from all of yours in that I was adopted, as fact I didn't discover until I turned eighteen. Evidently my Mom and Dad had taken me in when I was a baby. My real Mom had been a drug addict, and the sister of my Mom, Ann. Now, don't get me wrong. 'Mom' had always treated me as her own, spoiling me rotten. But my Dad and I had never been close, and now I know why. He was a little older than Mom and probably didn't want her junkie sister's kid but he did take me in and gave me his name.

I don't really know how to feel about it. It didn't really bother me, but for some reason I let on to my mother that it did, probably because whenever she was worried about me, or felt bad because I was in heck with my Dad, she would let me do whatever I wanted when he wasn't around. I'd always been a bit of a brat and I think that's how it started. It just got a little carried away, that's all.

Anyway, one night when I came home late, a little drunk because I'd been drinking at a friend's house, Mom was waiting to give me heck. Dad had gone to bed hours ago but Mom was waiting up in her bed clothes.

"Where have you been?" she demanded when I sneaked quietly in through the back door. She was standing by the fridge, in the dark.

"Mom! You scared the shit out of me," I blurted out, my voice slurring a bit.

"Don't swear, and keep your voice down. Your father's sleeping."

"Alright, don't have a cow," I slurred again.

"You've been drinking again!" she accused me.

"No, I haven't," my voice turned defensive.

"Don't lie to me. I told you about drinking and drugs."

"Yah, yah."

"You don't understand," she cried, her voice loud despite telling me to keep mine down. "You don't know how easy it is to get in deeper." She took a step toward me. "You've been drinking since school finished. Why? Have you done any drugs? Have you?

"You know why I've been drinking."

Now, I have no idea why I said that, it just came out.

"What? What do you mean, I know why?"

"You do. You and Dad. You both know."

"What are you talking about?"

I looked at her, swaying on my feet, and slurred, "Because I'm adopted."

Mom stepped back until she backed into the kitchen table, sitting down on its edge.

"I'm not yours," I twisted the knife, "so what do you really care?" With complete, drunken disregard for the knife I'd stuck into this woman who had coddled me all my life, I shuffled past my stunned mother and went to bed. She let me pass, staring at the floor where I'd been standing, too shocked to move.

When I woke up the next morning, the kitchen confrontation came back to me. Christ! Why had I let on that I knew? My mother would feel bad. And I did too, saying that to her. Maybe she'd be mad. Before I could get up, Mom knocked on the door. I didn't answer but she came in anyway. I pretended to be asleep. She sat on the bed next to me, stroking my shoulder and patting my head.

"Wake up honey, your Dad's waiting."

I was really hung over. The last thing I wanted to do was ride in the car with my father. He'd figure it out and give me shit.

"I don't feel well," I groaned.

"Ok," she said. "I'll tell Dad you're sick and then we'll talk about last night."

She was back two minutes after I heard Dad drive away. When she entered my room, for some strange reason I continued with the same adopted gambit I'd started the night before.

"You don't really love me. I'm just adopted." I turned over and covered my head.

I won't go through all the sordid details of my whining and my Mom's consoling assurances that both she and Dad had always loved me as their own. Suffice it to say that we ended up hugging and heading to the kitchen with a promise for my favorite breakfast, the little brat inside me firmly in control.

Now, I'd have to say that if I hadn't found out that I was adopted the next bit would surely never have happened. As I followed Mom down the hall and downstairs, I noticed her figure, fully covered though it was by her bed robe. I had never looked at her as a woman before but it occurred to me that she wasn't actually my real Mom, and she was good looking. It dawned on me that I had never been alone in a house with any woman dressed in her bed clothes, except her.

I felt a tingle when she lifted her robe as she started down the steps. Just the glimpse of her ankle and foot was suddenly interesting. I found myself watching her slim figure as I sipped coffee. While she was standing at the stove, I stepped up close behind her and gave her a hug.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said softly, feeling that the crisis was over.

I pulled the hair away from her neck and leaned down to kiss her in the hollow of her neck. She seemed a little flustered, so I repeated the kiss and then planted a couple on her cheek, lingering with the last one.

"That's nice, sweetheart," she said, her voice cracking a bit as her face flushed red, "but it's not the way you usually kiss me."

Still holding her shoulders, I whispered in her ear as if what I was saying was our secret, "But you're not really my Mom, so I should kiss you a little differently now."

Now she really looked upset and confused. She didn't do anything, she just kept fussing with the food on the stove. I leaned down and kissed her again in the nape of her neck.

"Don't kiss me like that."

"Why? You're a very good looking woman."

"I'm your Mom, not just some woman."

I leaned in to kiss her but she cringed away. "If you were my real Mom, you'd let me," I said.

"What are you talking about? I've been your mother all your life." Her voice was angry now.

"You know. The whole Oedipal thing. I didn't know you weren't my real Mom so I've had a thing for you since I started noticing girls, like most of my friends did for their moms."

"What?" Mom was truly taken aback.

"Come on, Mom. You know teenage boys get a thing on for their moms. All my friends did and I did too. Except they tried things and I was always afraid to. I didn't know why but now I do."

I kissed her neck again. She didn't pull away.

"Tried things? What things?" she asked, concern showing on her face.

"You know, kissing them and feeling them up."

"Your friends felt up their moms?" she asked, her voice sounding incredulous. I kissed her neck again, a longer kiss this time. I let my hands slip down to hold her waist.

"Yes," I whispered, kissing her cheek.

"I can't believe that. What happened?"

"They let them because they were moms." I moved my lips down to kiss her neck again and pulled her back toward me. Seeming quite rattled, Mom let me kiss her again.

"And this still goes on?"

"For some of them, yes. Others have moved on. Its just a phase mothers help their sons through."

Mom was clearly thinking, not paying attention to what I was doing. I was almost munching in the nape of her neck, squeezing my lips on her collar bone. I let my left hand move up her waist and around to her front a little while my right tugged her back tighter against me.

"Did they tease you because you couldn't?" Her voice sounded concerned that her son had gone without something others had. She didn't question my bullshit about my friends being able to feel up their Moms.

"No. I didn't let on. I acted like I was doing the same, that you let me too."

"Oh." Her answer was quiet. I pulled her rump against me but she didn't seem to notice. I guess she was digesting the idea that I had told my friends that I was feeling her up, but then they were saying that they were doing the same. It didn't seem to strike her that maybe we were all bullshitting.

"And some of them are still doing this?"

"Yes." I continued my kisses on her cheek and her neck. "Some are just kissing and touching, some are way past that, and some have moved on to younger women." I was really getting a handle on this on-the-fly story telling.

"So, they're just kind of showing the way, their Moms? Like teaching?"

"That's right, Mom," I planted a small kiss right on her ear, "except its more like letting them learn by doing, rather than teaching. You know, letting them try things without having some teenage girl freak out on them if they do something wrong." I let my left hand slide up two inches to nudge the bottom of her breast, taking up some of its weight. I kissed her ear again.

"So your friends think I'm helping you too?"

"That's right, Mom." I purposely emphasized 'Mom'.

Mom leaned forward and turned the stove off. "So what have you told them?"

I could feel myself stiffen at her acceptance, and of course, at the way her bum pressed harder against me when she leaned into the stove.

"You haven't said you were way up there like some of them, have you?"

"No, no. I just said you let me kiss you and feel you up a bit, and uh ..."

"And what?"

"Uh ... I said you've been letting me see you lately."

"Lorne!"

"Well, Mom. They're all way past that. They've been able to do that for a long time. And now they want me to prove it."

"Prove it?" her eyes opened wide. "You mean, pictures?"

"No, no," I quickly tried to head off her apprehension. "They just want me to be able to describe it realistically, like I could if I'd really seen you."

"Oh." She seemed to settle down at that.

Always one to push the envelope, I added, "But some have pictures." I felt her tense in my hands. "But without faces. You couldn't recognize them." She relaxed again.

"Oh." A long pause followed during which I kissed her neck again and pushed my left hand up into her breast. "I'd have to think about that," she said.

"What?" I asked, opening my hand to form it into a cup.

"Pictures," she said quietly. I pressed my open palm against her breast and squeezed her back to me.

"You could think about it while you let me kiss you, Mom. I've never kissed a girl while we were laying down, even at a party." I turned her away from the stove, toward the kitchen doorway.

"But don't you want to have your breakfast first?"

"No, I'm not hungry anymore."

I was starving actually but she seemed pliant and I didn't want to take any chance that would change her mind, like I'm sure she would if she stopped to think about it. I steered her upstairs and down the hallway. She walked woodenly, as if unsure of it all, but she turned into her room and headed for her bed.

"Are you sure that their moms let them do more than just kiss?" she asked as she sat on the edge of her bed.

"Definitely, Mom. I'm the real novice at parties, it's almost a joke." I pulled her slippers off and tugged on the belt of her robe. "We can't kiss with this big terry cloth robe on."

She let me tug the sleeves off her arms and push the robe offer her shoulders. She seemed to be still thinking about how much the other moms were doing. I was pleasantly surprised to see that she wasn't wearing button up flannel pajamas. She was wearing a three quarter length nightie made of some thin cotton material with a lace bodice that looked like a dress slip. It wasn't a real sexy item but she looked nice in it and I could tell she didn't have a bra under it.

To comfort her, I said, "Just let me practice kissing you, Mom."

I pushed her back on the bed. She lifted her hips and shifted her weight into the middle of the bed, actually slipping under the covers. I slipped in beside her, quickly taking her into my arms. Pausing briefly, I kissed her several times on each cheek, a couple of times on her forehead, and then her nose. I laughed at that, and she smiled back.

"See. It's just natural. A Mom helping her son." I emphasized 'Mom' again and smiled, kissed her on the nose again and then quickly took possession of her lips. I didn't kiss her hard and long. I kissed her many times with small kisses but worked up to longer and longer ones. After five or ten minutes had passed we were engaging in long, intense kisses and I was pressing my body against hers, full length.

During a pause, I complained that I was too hot and needed to take my robe off too. As I stripped it off, Mom asked, "How long do they practice for?"

"Oh, at least an hour at a time," I made up some data for her, "usually twice a day." Thankfully my face was turned away dropping my robe to the floor.

"An hour. Twice a day." Mom seemed incredulous. She hadn't noticed that I was only wearing my underwear now.

"Sometimes more," I added, taking her in my arms once more and regaining possession of her mouth. After another five minutes, I started slipping my tongue between her lips. I had been planning this for several minutes, expecting resistance, but there was none. We continued as if it was a natural progression. I loved having my tongue in her mouth and the feeling of hers in mine was exquisite.

I had my arms right around her back now, and hers were around my neck and shoulders. I had been rolling side to side as I kissed her and had managed to get her legs open. My cock had actually pressed against her pussy once or twice. I kept trying to nudge her softness there but she twisted her pelvis away as soon as she noticed but I could tell it excited her by the way it throbbed before she turned away. I was sorely temped to rub up and down, as if I was actually fucking her, but was afraid of going too far. As it was, it was after one of these presses that she pushed me away.

"That's enough for today," she said, panting. "Whew, I haven't kissed like that for a long time."

I realized that I would have to stop when she said. I somehow knew that if I tried to force her, she'd quit for good. But that didn't stop me from trying to be a little naughty, to get a little more for quitting nicely like a good boy.

"Ok Mom. But let me see a little then."

"What?" she asked, still trying to catch her breath.

"Show me. All the other guys have seen. Just let me see your tits."

"Lorne. Don't talk like that."

"Well it seems funny to call them breasts." I tugged the front of her nightie.

Mom looked torn. She didn't really want to do it.

"Please Mom. I'm way behind all the other guys."

"No. I don't care what the other boys are allowed to do."

I was only momentarily crushed because I'd been here many times growing up. This ploy always worked. If I said other boys were allowed to do something, or had some new coveted toy, she always caved in the end. I put on the expression and mannerism that I had always used in these situations. I could see evidence in Mom's face of the strings pulling at her heart.

"I'll think about it. Maybe later this week, ... but we're not doing this every day for an hour, let alone twice a day, so don't get your hopes up," she said.

"I won't," I promised but nevertheless stared at her breasts, especially her nipples which had stiffened considerably during our necking session and were poking proudly through her nightie.

Mom noticed my look of awe and crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding her treasures from me. But she didn't seem angry about my adulation.

"Now run along and get your own breakfast."

I don't think I've ever felt less like eating in my whole life than at that moment. Well that's it so far. I'll write in soon to keep you posted.

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I fished through the rest of that bundle hoping that Lorne had written in soon since he had expected further action within days. I found his next letter near the end of the bundle.

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Hello everyone. I haven't heard back from you about my first letter yet but I have more to report so thought I'd send another letter right away. I know that I was being a creep leading my mother on like this but I couldn't turn down the chance to fool around with her, now could I? Would you? Please keep that in mind when you're reading my letters.

Anyway. Here's what happened next.

True to her word, Mom wasn't about to let me make out with her every day, let alone twice a day, as she put it. In fact, several days went by without any opportunity for me to be alone with her. I tried acting sick but it didn't work. I always had to get up and get a ride with Dad to my stupid summer job. I began to think that she hadn't bought my story about almost everyone else getting to fool around with their moms. When you really think about it, who would buy that, even if they thought it was something people would keep private.

On the third night, I took every opportunity when Mom and Dad were in different rooms to join Mom and give her a kiss or a hug, and when they were together I made a point of watching her and smiling at her. At first, Mom seemed pleased with the attention but then she got annoyed, casting furtive glances at Dad to see if he was also aware of the extra attention I was directing at her.

Late in the evening, I followed Mom into the kitchen and hung about while she made a snack for her and Dad. My attempt to kiss her was angrily rebuffed.

"Stop it, Lorne," she whispered curtly.

"Just as I thought," I grumbled. "The guys were right."

"What do you mean by that?" she whispered sternly.

"It's just like the guys said."

"What guys? What did they say?"

"I told them I found out I was adopted and they said that explained why I never got to go as far as they did." I turned to sulk away.

"Wait. Wait, dammit!" Mom managed to sound like she was shouting but she was still whispering. "Come back here," she hissed, pointing to the floor in front of her, like when I was little and she was really mad.

I skulked back to stand in front of her.

"I've been your mother all your life since you were only a month old. Don't you tell me that I don't love you! And don't you let those guys say that either, you hear me?"

"Yes Mom," I shuffled my feet. "I won't. ... I'm sorry."

Again, I turned away, my head hung low. But Mom grabbed me, put her arms around me, and hugged me to her. I could feel her breasts pressing into my back, her head leaning on my shoulder. She released me and spun me around. Smiling up at me, she patted my shoulders and upper arms and whispered confidentially, "Why don't you go up to bed in a few minutes but tell me you don't feel well before you go up."

"I don't feel well?" I repeated, looking at her, confused.

"Not here," she said. In the living room, in front of Dad. Tell me then."

"Oh," I said, still not on the same page as her.

"I don't think you're going to be well enough to go to work tomorrow morning," she whispered, smiling, and then standing up on her toes and giving me a short kiss on my lips. She spun around. "Run along, now."

Duh. I finally got it. It was hard to look depressed and sick in front of Dad because I was now elated. I hung around, drinking the hot chocolate and eating the cookies Mom brought out for us before doing the world's worst acting job of having sudden stomach pains. Dad seemed to buy it but when I turned back to look before climbing the stairs, he had already focused back on the TV and Mom rolled her eyes at me. How was it that I was managing to fool her?

I half hoped she would come to check on me before going to bed herself. I listened closely as my parents readied themselves for bed an hour after I had retired. The house went still. They were going to sleep. I was about to fall off myself when the hall light went on. Looking at the light shining under my door, I heard mom half whisper to Dad, "I'm just going to check on him. I'm sure he's OK and sleeping."

My door opened very quietly, and was pushed almost closed, the hall light flooding a wedge into my room across the end of my bed. I felt Mom's weight ease onto my bed and her hand gently touch my head.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asked, as if she really did believe that I was ill.

I opened my eyes. She was smiling and her eyes looked truly concerned as she brushed the hair away from my face. She was wearing just her nightie. No robe. And the nightie was shorter than the three quarter length thing she'd worn a few days ago. This one was above her knees. Her eyes followed mine.

"Oh, so you have more than just a breast fetish, do you?" She laughed, enjoying herself at my expense as my face flushed.

Her right hand dropped to her knee and then slowly pulled her nightie up to just above her mid thigh. She lifted herself as she did so, allowing the nightie to ride up under her leg as well. I think she watched me as she bared her legs but I'm not sure because my eyes were fixed on the hem of that nightie as it traveled higher. When she stopped I could see her thighs up to where they thickened and the flesh squeezed together.

"There's more to a woman than breasts, you know," Mom said in the same amused tone, leaning in to kiss me on my forehead, "much more." Then she added, "We're a little complicated for you men, even when you get older. It's no wonder you need help at this age." Noting my gaze, she queried me again, this time wanting a response, "You want to see further up, don't you?"

I nodded.

She leaned in to kiss me again, this time on my mouth. I watched her breasts when she straightened up, jostling unrestrained and uninhibited under her nightie. I wished she'd left the door open wider to allow more light. She just sat there, watching me watch her breasts. She laughed that laugh again as my eyes slid down to her legs once more.

"Ah, so you're a leg man," she whispered. "I'm learning new things about my boy." Again she laughed, almost a low growl, a laugh I hadn't heard before.

She sat still, letting me look, watching my eyes slide over her thighs, falling into the crease between and peeking into the darkness under the hem. Finally, she said, "I'd better go now. I was just checking so I could report that you really are sick."

She leaned in and kissed me softly on the mouth again. When she straightened up, I sat up as well, reaching to take her in my arms. She pulled back, but didn't get up.

"No, I have to get to bed."

"Just one kiss," I demanded.

"No, your Dad's waiting for me." Still she just sat there.

"A goodnight kiss," I insisted, leaning forward to put my arm around her, pulling her head to mine, bringing her mouth to me. Within seconds, my tongue was in her mouth. Minutes passed. It was a long kiss which ended with her leaning back over my legs, my left hand pressed against her side, her right breast resting on my wrist as it curled around her abdomen. We were both breathing quickly. Her eyes were sparkling as she got up, watching me as I leaned back to make way for her.

She stood, brushed her nightie down over her legs and started to the door.

"Mom," I whispered when she was halfway there. She stopped and turned, looking at me, not saying anything. She looked gorgeous, still out of breath, her hair mussed up.

"Would you leave your slippers here so I can watch you walk away in your bare feet?"

Mom didn't answer. She stood there for about 15 seconds and then silently walked back to stand in front of me at the side of my bed. I could hear her shuffling her slippers off her feet, kicking them under the bed. Without a word, she turned and walked, more slowly now, toward the door. Her fingers grasped her nightie on each side and pulled it up until the hem was at mid thigh, like she'd done on the bed. I watched until she finally disappeared. Seconds later, the hall went dark.

You'd think I would have had trouble falling asleep, wouldn't you? But I didn't. I started thinking about her legs, her thighs, and her question when she saw where I was looking, 'You want to see further up, don't you?' It seemed that I'd just thought about that and then I was waking up, with the same thought in my mind. I could hear my parents voices downstairs. The clock showed that I was already late, even if I got up now. Mom must have convinced Dad that I was truly sick. The voices stopped. I didn't hear Dad drive away, so I stayed in bed. I could hear the radio playing.

Time passed. I was impatient but I wasn't sure whether Dad was still downstairs for some reason and if I went to see and he was still there I'd probably end up going to work. Finally, I heard someone coming upstairs. I put on my sick look in case it was Dad.

The door pushed open and Mom entered, carrying a tray with my breakfast. Toast and eggs, sliced up apple, juice and a coffee. I sat up in bed, shedding my sickly demeanor as Mom set the tray on my legs. She was wearing her robe so I couldn't see how she was dressed. She was barefoot, I noticed. I wondered if she'd done that for me. She had several pairs of slippers, and she didn't try to retrieve the ones she'd kicked under my bed.

"Call me when you're done," she said. "Don't get up. I'll come." She whisked out of the room.

I settled in to eat. I was hungry. I had just leaned back to enjoy my coffee, having set the tray on the bed, when Mom returned. She was still wearing her robe, tightly wrapped around her and belted. She picked the tray up and left again, cheerily tossing out, "I'll be right back."

And she was. She must have dropped the tray off in the kitchen and come right back. She bounced up and sat on my bed where the tray had been, tucking her legs in and leaning on one hand, her head cocked to one side as she looked at me. I finished my coffee, set it on the bed table, and turned, expecting to start our morning session. But Mom just looked at me.

"You know," she said, "it's hard for a woman to be in the right mood in the morning. We always have so many things to do, and we start thinking about them right away."

What? She was reneging? That wasn't fair! I had to do something. Take charge.

She was talking again.

"... so men don't understand, women aren't simple like them. You can't turn them on by flipping a switch, like you can with men. And we can't do it FOR you either, you have to help."

There was a long pause.

"Men who figure that out get a lot further with women, I can tell you that."

Another pause.

"Has Dad figured that out?" I asked, not being able to think of anything else to say.

"We're not talking about Dad."

This was frustrating. I wanted to neck and feel her up. What happened to the flirty mom that had been in my room last night?

Mom was toying with the lapels of her robe. Not loosening them. She looked up at me with a 'Well?' kind of expression on her face. What could I do? I could try looking helpless and depressed like I had in the kitchen but I had a feeling that a little boy act would be exactly the wrong thing to do. I could look at her breasts and legs like last night but they were all covered up. I looked anyway but could immediately tell that wasn't going to work either. She was looking restless. I was panicking. She was going to leave!

Desperate, my thoughts galloped through last night again. What had I done that might have put her in a mood? Kissed her? No, she was talking about getting her in the mood for that so that wasn't it. What? ... I had it. I almost smiled but kept my smug face turned inward to myself.

"Yeah, I can see what you mean, Mom. That's why women are so interesting, and challenging."

Mom just nodded, waiting.

"Say Mom, do you still have those fluffy slippers?"

Mom looked at me, a little surprised I think. "Yes," she answered, unsure of what I was getting at.

"Do you think you could put them on for me?"

She nodded, slowly, then quickening, perhaps understanding now. "Sure."

Mom got up and made her way to the door. She walked slowly, like she had last night. I watched her until she disappeared again.

It was several minutes before she returned. When she appeared, she wasn't wearing the slippers, or any others for that matter. She was barefoot and walking far more slowly than when she'd left, giving me lots of time to watch her. Her robe was gone.

The nightie wasn't a three quarter length job, nor was it a knee length thing. It only came to just over halfway to her knees. There was lots of leg there to see. She knew I liked her legs. She paused just inside the door. She made no mention about her missing robe when she spoke, "I couldn't find them," she explained, took a couple more steps, stopped, and said, "You know, I think this nightie looks better without slippers anyway, don't you?"

She picked her hem up on the sides with fingers, like she'd done last night, but this time she was starting where she'd ended. The hem rose until it couldn't have been more than two inches below her private parts. She held it there, letting me have all the time I needed to admire the legs she knew I liked so much.

"Yesss," I drawled. "Yesss ... I think you're right, Mom."

"Turn ...," I blurted when it looked like she was ready to drop the hem, "turn around."

She kept the nightie high on her legs as she spun slowly around. One, two, three full turns. The nightie just covered her bottom in the back. When she started to walk toward me, I tossed out another instruction, "Keep it up high."

She did. She held it all the way to the bed and even held it up as she climbed up on the bed. She straddled my legs and sat on them. I noticed that her panties were a matching silky material of the same color before she finally dropped the hem lower onto her legs.

I was still propped up on the pillows in an almost sitting up position. She leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on my lips.

"What should we do today?" She smiled, leaned in for another quick kiss, and sat back on her haunches, on my legs, her knees outside mine. She was back to that perky, playful woman I'd met last night. She was beautiful. My cock swelled, but I don't think she could tell through the covers.

"Well ... we could just kiss some more, like we did the other day."

"Ah, you're learning," Mom looked pleased, like her 'teaching' was paying off. "A woman doesn't like to go faster than she wants to. You're going to learn more than those other boys, even if you don't get to see or do as much as they do."

That was disappointing. I wanted to see and feel her, not learn about women, but I didn't let it show. "And maybe how to hold a woman, properly, so she won't freak out."

Mom paused, then seemed to relax. "Uh huh. OK." She leaned forward to kiss me. "Put your arms around me, low down, but don't put your hands on my bum," she instructed.

I did as she asked. She continued kissing me. We kissed for several minutes. I moved my hands up and down her back, stroking the sides of her waist, but never tried to move them over her ass or down to feel the sides of her breasts. And I didn't try to slip my tongue in her mouth, but I gladly accepted hers when she finally pushed it into mine.

The next little while was filled with fairly intense mouth work, with Mom taking it to higher levels each time. When our mouths finally pulled apart, we were both gasping for breath. Mom's legs had stretched out so that instead of kneeling over my torso, she was laying over me with her legs splayed on either side of mine, her groin pressed against mine through the blankets.

"Whew," Mom gasped, "you're certainly getting better."

"And it's only been fifteen minutes," I answered.

"We're not timing ourselves, remember?" Mom verbally spanked me. "Anyway, you should never get cocky with a woman about how well you're doing. It's better not to even talk about it."

"Sorry Mom. I just got carried away, it felt so good."

Mom looked pleased. "Yes ... well, it felt good to me too."

"We're not finished yet, are we Mom?" I pleaded again.

"No, I guess not." Mom lowered her face to mine.

"Wait," I cried, "I'm really hot. Can I take my covers off?" I began tugging at my blankets. Mom started to get up but I stopped her. "No. Just lift up a bit. ... I can pull them out." I didn't want her to get off me, she felt so good laying on me, even through the covers.

"OK," I said as soon as I pulled and kicked the sheet and blanket to the side, pulling up as well as out to the side. My hands pressed on her back, pulling her back down on me. My lips took possession of hers right away. I didn't move when I felt her body on mine, not wanting to call attention to the fact that she was only wearing a short nightie, and I just my undershorts. Her legs were still splayed over mine, and her groin pressed against mine. My hardon must be evident to her now, especially since my upward action with the covers had pulled her nightie up to her stomach. I could feel her bare tummy pressed tight to part of mine and knew that only her panties were pressed against my shorts.

I let my hands press in on the middle of her back and pressed my arms tight to her sides. As I kissed her, I pulled her waist tighter to me, moving my hands up and down with the result that her pelvis moved the same way against mine. And her breasts. I could feel her nipples poking into my chest. I contented myself with this new level and once again waited for her to intensify our kissing.

I wasn't disappointed. Her mouth was hot on mine as she worked herself up more and more. Soon she was writhing on me, just slightly and very slowly, but writhing nonetheless. I was loathe to break our kiss, despite my need for air as breathing through my nose failed more and more to fill my body's needs. I could tell that her nightie had risen until it was piled across the small of her back, confirmed by my hands realizing that there was bare skin below the material. Her ass was bare! If only I could see it.

Finally, I could last no longer and pulled my mouth away, inhaling loudly, gasping great gulps of air, wanting to renew our kiss before she realized her exposed state and shut me down for the day. Mom was gasping for air too but her breathing recovered before mine.

"Lorne." Mom whispered into my neck, her head resting on my shoulder. The skin on her face was damp with sweat.

"Yes, Mom." I knew I was done even though she hadn't moved to break our body long caress.

"When you do get a girl to a point where ... you know ... you should always cover her up, so she feels safe and not exposed."

Well, I'd only got a little farther today but it seemed like a lot more. One step at a time, I thought, as my hands started to tug her nightie down.

"Pull the sheet over me," Mom whispered.

"What?" My hands froze.

"The sheet, Lorne. Cover me with the sheet."

Slowly, my hands slipped off her back, the right seeking the sheet to my side.

"Come on, cover me, make me feel safe." She kissed me several times on my face as she whispered to me.

Mom must think I was stalling to keep her exposed but I was just stunned that she was going to let this continue, knowing her backside was bare. It took me at least a full minute to cover her, my hands fumbling around to get the sheet over her back and legs. But the job was finally done and I returned my hands to their former position in the small of her back. Mom started kissing me again, light kisses on my lips, without any tongue play. I rubbed her back in small strokes, happy to be where I was.

"Lorne."

"Yes, Mom."

"When a girl opens herself to you, you should show your appreciation."

Again, she was leaving me behind. I pulled her tighter and lifted my head to kiss her, trying to slip my tongue into her mouth, but she blocked its entrance. Pulling her lips away but keeping her face close so I couldn't see her eyes, she whispered hoarsely in my ear, "Touch me."

I hesitated.

"Touch me," she whispered again, then lifted her face and planted her lips on mine, her tongue slipping between.

I moved my hands slowly, tentatively, up onto the swell of her buttocks. Her tongue moved faster in my mouth. My fingers crested her cheeks and slipped down the rear slope to the backs of her thighs. Deep into my mouth her tongue plunged. I reached the crease between bum and legs and dug my fingers between her thighs, stretching until they met, then sliding them together back up the divide that separated them, squeezing the flesh underneath. Mom's groin pressed harder into mine as my fingers travelled that delightful, narrow canyon.

"Mmmmmmmmm," she sighed into my mouth.

I pressed my cock up, once, twice, three times.

Mom broke the kiss as my fingers reached the top of her crack. "You like that, don't you?"

I nodded.

"Keep touching me," her soft voice caressed my ear. This time she just lay on me as my hands and fingers loved her ass. She moaned as I dug between her thighs and pressed the sides of my index fingers against her, under her bottom, before sliding them up, deeper between her bottomly crevasse. Again, she pressed her pussy down on my cock, shoving it hard against my stomach under my shorts. But this time, she ground it around, side to side and up and down.

"Keep touching me," she commanded, her breath ragged.

My fingers dragged more slowly down and back. Her groin ground harder against me, and her tits too. This time her pussy moved up and down and around more rapidly.

"Oh, Lorny," she groaned in my ear, a name she hadn't used since I was little.

I was caught off guard. It roared up my shaft, bursting from the head, shooting into my shorts, soaking them. Frantically, I humped against her panties. She didn't pull away. She kept grinding until I was still, laying there, panting, my hands slipping from her back.

She got up. "I think that's enough for now." She walked away. I turned to watch her, her bare feet padding softly on the floor. She wasn't in a hurry and though she didn't look back, I could tell she knew I was watching. She exuded sex appeal.

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I started searching right away for another letter from Lorne. I didn't hear Mom knock and was startled by her voice as she leaned in the opened door.

"Dave, come out to meet Mary and her son Paul." She ducked back through the door without further explanation.

In the hall entrance stood an attractive woman of average proportions and a boy. It turned out he was about my age but he looked much younger.

"Dave, I'd like you to meet Mary and her son Paul." Mom indicated the mother and son with a sweep of her hand. "Mary is a nurse and she's going to help us look after Dad part-time in exchange for living in the suite." Mom turned away. "Come on, Mary, I'll show you where everything is while Paul puts some of your things in the suite."

I was dismissed. Just like Dad, Mom made decisions affecting our lives without any consultation. I returned to Dad's study and starting searching for another letter from Lorne, forgetting my rule to read every one, until I encountered an update from Frank.

I told you about Frank in Chapters 2 and 5. You may recall that Frank's mom was helping him study in his room. Her real goal was to keep Frank away from Donna, a girl whom Frank has mislead his mom into believing was allowing him sexual privileges. Things became quite heated in their last study session where she allowed Frank to remove her panties, whereupon she pinned his cock to his stomach with her bare pussy and rubbed both of them to orgasm. She left her torn panties with him that night, promising him more bareback which she assured him no girl his age would give him.

I won't bore you with all the details, but Frank's idea of bareback, actually fucking her without a condom, didn't match his mother's. Bareback to her meant a repeat of their last tryst with her rubbing her soaking pussy on his uncovered cock. Not that this was bad. His mom made a habit of visiting his room and bringing both of them off. She sometimes allowed him to fondle her tits as she mashed her pussy around on his stiff rod until he shot his wad onto his own stomach.

But she wouldn't relinquish control. She always remained on top. His efforts to convince her to switch failed, as did his attempts to wrestle her onto her back. She invariably freed herself or blocked his goal with crossed legs, and she always punished him by leaving and not returning for the rest of that week. Frank fell into line despite his craving to lodge his pole inside his mom, something he couldn't do with her firmly in control on top of him.

When his mother last walked out on him, Frank decided to return to his original strategy, holding out the threat of Donna. He waited out his mother's absence for the rest of the week and then followed that by coming home late every night the following week, insisting he was 'studying' on his own at school, but making it clear he wasn't being entirely honest.

Finally, he stayed home one night but he avoided his mom, choosing instead to watch a game with his Dad. He declined his mom's offer for help studying, saying he was studied out. His mother left in a huff for the kitchen to start baking, something she often did when she was angry or needed to think about things. Frank still wasn't sure how to get her to let him be on top so he was simply delaying until he could figure out how to do it. He didn't want to blow it after going without for two weeks and he was sure if they were alone in his room, he wouldn't be able to resist her damp charms.

But his father, of all people, forced his hand. Knowing all too well about his wife's habit of baking at night when she was angry, he prodded Frank to go into the kitchen to right whatever was wrong. When Frank insisted he didn't know what was wrong, his father said that was beside the point and told him to go hang out with her until she 'softened', which he said was inevitable.

In Frank's words:

So I joined my mother in the kitchen. She was preparing dough and placing it on cookie sheets on the counter, ready to put into the oven which was warming. My anger dissipated as I gazed at her figure from her shoulder length red hair, down her slight shoulders to the ass I had held so familiarly so often, down her knee length skirt to her bare, tanned legs and feet inserted into pink slippers.

God, I wanted to feel her on me. I walked slowly, quietly toward her. I'll apologize, I thought, let her take control, if she'll just start rubbing herself on me again. She heard me a step away. She didn't pause but her head turned a fraction of an inch. I placed my hands on her shoulders and kissed her gently, softly, on her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered into her ear before kissing that too. She was stiff in my arms.

"You should be." Her voice was harsh. "Where were you all week?"

"I told you," I defended myself, "I was studying." I pulled her hair aside and kissed her neck, hoping to distract her.

"With that slut?"

"A couple of times," I lied, "but we didn't do anything, we just studied."

"Oh, sure," Mom replied sarcastically.

"We didn't," I insisted. Mom looked unconvinced. I shifted gears. "She wanted to, she promised to go all the way. I was tempted," I pulled myself tighter behind her, "and we played around but when she opened her legs, I just couldn't." I let my hands slide down her shoulders and slipped them inside her arms to rest on her waist just above her hips.

"Oh," Mom prompted disbelievingly, "and why couldn't you?"

I paused for effect, then answered, "Because it wasn't you. I just went soft. It was embarrassing." I pressed myself into her so she could feel that I didn't have that problem with her. I pulled her tight against me. "It was awful," I cried, latching my lips onto her neck, hoping her motherly instincts would make her feel sorry for me.

I could feel her relax in my arms, the tension flowing out of her. She let me kiss and suck on the nape of her neck, as if she knew the kitchen was our private domain for some period of time.

"Poor baby," she said. Her hands had stopped working the dough. She just stood there letting me press her to the counter, kissing her neck. I couldn't help taking advantage. I hunched my cock into her skirt. She let me do this too, simply drawing her arms back so she could grip the edge of the counter with her hands. I humped harder against her ass, pausing to thrust upward at the depth of each shove.

"I missed you so much, Mom."

"Poor baby," she repeated, pushing her ass out to meet my shoves.

I slipped my hands around and up to cup her breasts. "I need you to study with me." I thrust hard into her and squeezed her tits, biting her neck, grinding her ass against the counter.

"Is it so important for you, to be on top?" Her breathing had quickened.

"Not if you really don't want me to, Mom," I answered, lying through my teeth.

"But you want to, don't you?"

"Yes!" My whisper was hoarse and intense. I ground my cock into her for added emphasis, like I couldn't help it at the thought of being on her.

"Ok," she whispered for the first time, "but only if I'm on my tummy. We can't face each other. It's too dangerous. We can't have an accident ... you know ... you can't come inside me. It's wrong."

"Ok, Mom," I agreed, elated. I'd won!

"Promise you won't try to get inside me."

I didn't respond. Instead, groaned in her ear like I was beside myself, "Oh, Mom."

I let my hands fall away from her tits, along her waist and over her hips. Grasping the sides of her skirt, I slowly pulled it up. I reached her hips before she reacted.

"No, ... not here." She placed her hands on mine, trying to slow them.

"I just want to feel you for a minute," I gasped into her ear, continuing to raise her skirt.

"You can't," her voice was panicked, "your father is just around the corner." Her hands tried to push mine down more strenuously but I had reached her waist.

"He won't come in. He sent me in to apologize for whatever I'd done, because you were baking."

Again, I felt her tension drain away. She actually laughed.

"He'll wait until we come out," I added for assurance, looking down at her butt. The waist of her panties drew a line around her hips only halfway up her buttocks. The edges traced the perimeter of a triangular that covered less and less of her cheeks until they met in an apex that disappeared between the tops of her legs. I slipped my hands out from under hers but the skirt didn't fall. Her hands kept it up. As quietly as I could, I undid my belt and unbuttoned my jeans, pushing them down without unzipping the noisy zipper. I pushed my undershorts down with my jeans.

Mom didn't seem to realize what I was doing. I pressed my knees into the backs of hers, pinning her to the counter once more. Using my fingers, I traced the outline of her cheeks from under her legs up the sides to the top of her hips. I let my index fingers follow the line of her panties down the triangle of her legs and then back up, this time pulling the panties into her crack. Holding her panties up to keep the material between her cheeks, I moved forward and dipped my bare, hard cock into her crease.

"No ... oh no," she cried, trying to pull away to no avail as my cock followed her ass. "Stop ... don't ... not here!" she hissed.

"Will you come upstairs? Will you let me do this tonight? ... I need you, Mom. I can't wait." I shoved my cock up and down.

"Yes ... yes," she gasped, "in a few minutes."

"Promise?" I pushed.

"Promise," she answered.

"Ok, but I'm taking these." I pushed her panties down to her knees before she could do anything to stop me. Her legs moved apart to stop them going any further. "Let them fall," I whispered. When she didn't, I pushed my cock between her bare cheeks and rubbed it up and down. She moved her legs together, allowing her panties to drop to her ankles. I kneeled and gently raised each foot to slide the panties off. When I stood, her skirt was back in place, covering her charms.

"Don't be long, Mom." I did up my jeans and stuffed her panties my pocket. Leaving the kitchen, I paused to wave to Dad. To his querying look, I gave a thumbs up. He smiled and winked. I was only halfway up the stairs when I heard Mom tell Dad she was going to help me study. I waited, holding the door open until she passed me and went straight to my bed, laying down on her tummy. I closed the door but didn't latch it.

Approaching the bed, I dropped my jeans and undershorts before pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor. I bent over Mom, unzipping her skirt and tugging it off. She stayed on her tummy, her face pressed into my pillow. I turned her onto her side so I could unbutton her blouse. She kept her face turned down but allowed me to remove first her shirt and then her bra. She was completely naked. I crawled up on the bed. She turned onto her tummy again and closed her legs.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered, running my hands up the back of her calves and thighs, and onto her ass. I squeezed her cheeks between the thumb and index finger of each hand.

I searched in my night table drawer until I found the cream I used for masturbating. I did this every night and needed the lubricant to stop my cock from chafing. Wiping a liberal amount on my cock, I leaned forward onto my arms, my cock hanging over her ass. Slowly, I dipped my hips until my cock made contact with the back of her legs. Poking it into the furrow between her thighs, I shoved it along, the head skittering forward until it hit her buttocks. I shoved harder, pushing it between her cheeks. Aided by the cream, my cock moved easily through her ass crack.

Mom didn't make a sound the whole time I slid back and forth in the crease between her cheeks but when I pulled back and plunged it between her thighs, just under her pussy, she moaned out loud. She moistened quickly and after just a few shoves the inside of her thighs were slick. I could tell she really liked this. Each time I pushed in she let out a little "ohhhh" as my cock made contact with her pussy lips.

I was able to angle my cock so I could guide the head between her lips. Soon, her ass was lifting a little as I drew back, trying to keep in contact, and her legs opened a little to give me better access. Her "ohhh's" were more frequent now. Though she lifted her ass as I withdrew, she hunched it forward when I thrust back, preventing me from pushing into her. But she wasn't quick enough every time and I was able to push the small part of my cock's head into her a little. She interrupted her "ohhh's" with a "don't" whenever I did this but it didn't sound that convincing since she didn't do anything to make it harder for me. In fact, she seemed to forget to hunch forward more often.

Then on one backstroke I pulled back completely out of contact. Mom kept her ass lifted up, waiting for me to slide my cock back along her pussy. Instead, I grasped my cock in my hand, pressed its head part way into her slit, and slid it along her length and back, slowly, three or four times.

"Ohhhuuhhhahhhhh," she repeated each time.

I paused, ecstatic at her wanton sound, knowing she was lost in the feel of my cock on her pussy. It was very empowering. I dragged my tip through her again.

"D-o-o-o-o-n't," she moaned softly, "don't ... don't ... don't."

She kept pulling her pelvis forward, twisting her pussy away from me, making it hard for me to renew that contact.

"I won't put it in, Mom," I gasped, "I won't." I was panting. So was she. "Please ... lift up ... please."

She lay under me, breathing raggedly. When I saw her ass lifting again, I almost came. She cocked it up higher than before and waited for me to drag my slick stick through her again. Instantly, I obliged. She wasn't moaning anymore but her raspy breathing was even louder. Without intention, my cockhead poked further and further into her as I rubbed it back and forth until, finally, it popped completely in. I paused in shock as I realized that the head of my cock was firmly lodged inside her cunt. There was a magical moment where I was holding my cock just in her and she was twisting her ass up to make it easier for me. Then it ended.

"Oh, Frankie, nO." Her ass plunged to the mattress. There was a squishy plop as my cock popped out, instantly experiencing pangs of loss as it separated from the first cunt it had ever felt. MORE ... it needed more.

Mom was whimpering. Was she crying? I couldn't tell. I whispered to console her.

"Ok Mom. We'll do it a different way. It'll be ok."

I pulled her onto her side. I kneed her thighs until she pulled her legs up, together, until she was almost in a fetal position. I bumped her top leg, pushing it forward, opening her legs to provide room for my cock to slide between her legs, holding her hip until my cock was pressed against the bottom of her pussy. She was very wet.

Immediately, I began to move my cock back and forth. I reached down to grab her tit, squeezing it until her nipple stiffened and poked out between the circle of my thumb and index finger. Increasing the speed of my thrusts, I changed hands, using my left to hold her just released right tit. I moved my free hand down to grasp the front of her thigh. Within moments, I was brushing her pussy lips side to side with my fingers as my cock thrust through her legs. Holding it as hard against her as I could, I sawed it back and forth.

Changing my angle so I could dig between her pussy lips again, I moved my fingers up to pinch her clit. She was now very, very, wet. She was moaning into the pillow. Angling more, I dug into her cunt. She started to turn her head up from the pillow but I moved my hand from her tit to keep it pressed in. I started to push into her.

"No ... Frank ... don't". She tried to turn her face up but I kept it pushed down. I shoved further in until all but the wide part of my cock head was in her.

"No ... please, Frank ... don't."

I leaned right over her until my lips were close to her ear. "I need to, Mom."

"No," she hissed, "we can't."

An evil feeling welled up in me. I wanted to possess her. "Don't make me go to Donna."

Mom didn't answer. I felt the tension flowing out of her, could sense resignation, and then, amazingly, her pussy lips softened, loosening.

Slowly, I pushed my cock all the way into her. I pulled out and shoved hard back in.

As if changing her mind, she suddenly cried, "Don't ... don't."

Again I pulled out and shoved in, forcefully, bouncing her whole body forward on the bed.

"Stop ... Frank ... don't."

I pulled out and shoved in, five or six times, and stopped.

"Don't, Frank, ... please don't."

She didn't say stop this time. I fucked into her a dozen times more.

"don't ... don't .... don't." Her voice was soft now, quiet.

I began a steady fuck. She kept moaning softly, "don't." I kept fucking her, holding her head, squeezing her tit again, then finally sticking my fingers in her mouth to stop her constant "don'ts" even though I was enjoying the sound of it. For some reason, she really started moaning when I put my fingers in her mouth. I started banging her really hard then, fast and furious, I couldn't hold back anymore. I clutched her head, desperately, as I emptied myself in her, spasming against her soft backside. 

When we had regained our breath, I whispered to her, "Thanks for letting me rub like that, Mom. It was real special."

She didn't respond at first but finally answered, "You really like it that way?"

"Yes," I responded enthusiastically. "I love it. And you're the only one that can do it like that," I assured her.

"Ok," she said, "then that's the way we'll do it."

We never acknowledged that I'd actually fucked her. From then on, we always started with me rubbing my cock through her legs but I was always fucked her in the doggy position or on her side. I found that I liked the feel of holding her head as I fucked her. Though we fucked every time, we always called it rubbing.

Only one thing bothered me. The door was open about six inches. I was sure I had closed it.

About a week later, Mom started a silly argument with me about nothing and then stomped her into the kitchen. Moments later, she started banging cookie sheets around. Dad nodded at me to go 'make up' with my Mom. When I entered the kitchen, Mom hadn't even got any baking stuff out. She only had a couple of cookie sheets out, one warming in the oven and the other laying on top of the burners on the stove.

She was just standing there. She smiled when she heard me come into the kitchen and then turned to face the stove again. Realizing that the 'argument' had been fake, and that Dad would not bother us until we had 'made up', I strode directly to her. Standing behind her, I opened my pants and pushed on her back until her head came to rest on the cookie sheet. I grasped her head with my left hand and slipped two fingers from my right into her mouth as I brought my cock to bear against her skirt. Mom raised her skirt until my cock flopped down and poked at her ass. She wasn't wearing any panties.

Reaching behind to grasp my cock in her hand, she guided it to her pussy. I gave her a bloody good rubbing that time, her head sliding around on the cookie sheet despite my tight grip. At one point, I felt a sudden dread as I sensed someone watching. Panicked, I jerked my head to the kitchen doorway, but it was empty. Desire overwhelming my fear, soon renewed my slow thrusts, lifting Mom up onto her toes as I shoved my cock in as deep as I could. It was so erotic, I squirted into her a lot. When I pulled out, she stayed bent over with her head on the cookie sheet while I pulled up and fastened my pants. Her skirt fell back into place but a dribble of come ran down the inside of her left leg.

She followed me upstairs, telling Dad we were going to study again. She lay on her tummy but I crawled around to her head and turned her over. As soon as she was on her back, I straddled her face, tilted her head back toward me, and pushed my cock into her mouth. That's when I really found out how much she liked to have her mouth filled. I got so carried away holding her head while I slid my cock into her throat, I didn't realize I had forgotten to close the door.

Again, I felt that creepy feeling that I was being watched. I looked up, my cock fully plugged in Mom's mouth, to find Dad standing in the doorway. I froze. He smiled and nodded. I was too scared to react. Nodding, as if pointing, he made a ring of the thumb and index finger of his left hand and poked the index finger of his right back and forth through it. He kept nodding, looking at Mom's open legs.

Slowly, I leaned forward and pulled Mom's skirt up, exposing her bare cunt. Holding her legs open, looking at Dad still thrusting his finger in and out of his hand, I plunged two fingers into Mom's pussy. She moaned loudly around the cock in her mouth and began sucking it hard. I began to really work my fingers in her. Dad smiled, turned, and sauntered out of sight toward his bedroom. Mom's hips were lunging up on my fingers, her mouth gripping my cock with incredible suction. As my seed began to pour into my mother's throat, I realized that my father knew his wife very well.

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Dave here. Sorry I haven't kept you updated for a while. I was very busy studying for exams. We have settled quite well into our new life with Mary and her son. Paul is much more juvenile that I had first thought. Though only a couple of years younger than me, he is emotionally much younger, spending his time playing computer games and reading comic books.

I have become quite friendly with Mary and we have talked about Paul a lot. She asked me if I could help her get Paul to grow up. She had tried everything she could think of without success. I told her there wasn't anything I could do but there was something she could do, and I could help her with that if she really wanted to help her son.

Mary was aware of my relationship with Mom though she tried not to let on that she knew. Paul was too naive to understand what was right in front of him, but Mary clearly knew. I also knew it embarrassed Mom once in a while when I touched her in front of Mary, though she allowed it. Once, we emerged from our bedroom after a rare afternooner and Mary was in the hall on her way to Dad's room. Both women went red in the face.

So I was aware that Mary knew what I was hinting at when I suggested there was something more she could do, and that I could help her in that direction. But she couldn't bring herself to discuss it and the conversation changed. But she brought it up again several days later when we were sitting around the kitchen table having an afternoon coffee while my father napped.

"Paulie, ... he's ...", her face was struggling, "you know I know about you and you mother," she blurted out. "I would never say anything to anyone," she assured me, "and I know you were ... I could never ... do that."

I took her hand in both of mine, patting it. "You don't have to ... you know, go all the way. But if you go a little way, you could change his focus. It will work, Mary, I know it will."

"But ... how can you ... how can he want his mother?" she asked awkwardly, flustered.

"It's very special. Susan is my mother, but she's a woman too. She's irresistible."

"But, ... I don't have that ... glamour, your mother has."

"Yes, you do. You're a very attractive woman, Mary, believe me. You have a great figure, a nice lithe body, and you're very pretty. Your hair, short like you wear it, is kind of exotic. I know you wear it that way for efficiency, but it's still sexy." I let my comments sink in, sipping my coffee as I watched her.

"No, it won't work. Paulie has never even looked at a girl, let alone his mother."

"Believe me. He'll be very interested, and you can use that to make him grow up. I can nudge him in the right direction. You just have to let him ... do stuff, once he's started. Don't scare him off. Make like it's natural."

"Do what stuff?"

"Just let him look at you, maybe touch you a bit, kiss you like a girl, not his mother."

"That's all?"

"Yeah. You can encourage him, entice him with your body, your voice, the softness of your skin. Let yourself be a woman around him. I guarantee he'll react. Even watching a woman's feet can be erotic for a man. Do simple things, but things that he knows are special and secrets between him and you."

I could see her thinking, already buying into the plan. It made my cock swell knowing this mother was thinking about seducing her son, at least to some extent, and that I could be part of it. I glanced over her body, her small breasts and narrow waist, her hips flaring a little wider than they should and her ass that stuck out a little prominently though it wasn't that big. My cock stiffened. I wanted to fuck her, right there in the kitchen.

I smiled at her, "I could help you choose some things to wear that might help." She ignored my suggestion.

"I just don't know how to get started. Paul is so into his comics and games. He's like a little kid, not an eighteen year old."

"Don't worry," I assured her, "I'll get him started."

"How?" she asked.

"Leave it to me," I said.

"You won't say anything to him?" her eyes widened.

"No, no. Trust me."

I didn't waste any time. Mary and Paul joined us for dinner often, and sometimes watched a movie on our very large high definition screen. I made a point over the next week to touch Mom more often when Paul was around. Little pats here and there and a few more kisses. Mom didn't even seem to be aware, nor did Paul, but Mary was. If anything, I think I was getting Mary more intrigued, and that should help her with Paul, I reasoned. I began touching Mom more intimately, and kissing her, more often when I knew Mary was around, and I could sense that it was having an effect on her.

Then one night, after we had finished a dinner that Mom had cooked, I rose from my seat, went around Mary sitting to my right to stand behind Mom and leaned down to hug her. I kissed her and thanked her for a wonderful dinner. Mom stretched her right arm up to lightly clasp my head as I nuzzled her cheek. I kissed her again after she responded, and let my right hand, on Paul's side of the table, slide down to cup the side of Mom's breast.

Mom froze. Mary looked like a statue. Paul seemed oblivious, his eyes focused on the comic book laying on the table to the left of his plate, pointed toward Mom. I finished my long kiss on Mom's cheek and moved to her ear, all the while cupping her breast. Mom's face reddened, but she didn't stop me, even when I poked the tip of my tongue onto her ear and traced its outline. I returned to my seat amid an awkward silence, the women sitting still and Paul staring at his comic.

Suddenly, Mom burst up, "Well, let's see what we have for dessert." Mary quickly stood and rushed to the fridge, her back to the table, "Ice cream," she suggested loudly, "how about ice cream?"

Paul was still staring at his comic.

What was that all about?" Mom demanded as we were getting ready for bed.

"What was what all about?" I replied.

"You know what I'm talking about. Touching me in front of Mary and Paul."

"Oh, that. I'm just helping Mary out."

"Helping Mary out. What do you mean?" The pitch of Mom's voice rose with every word.

"She asked me to. She's not blind. She's aware that you and I have a special arrangement. She's curious about how it began, so I told her it was to help Dad."

"Why did you tell her anything? It's none of her business." She was getting quite angry. "I'll get someone else to look after Dad. How embarrassing. How could you?"

"Mom relax. There's nothing to get embarrassed about. Mary is very impressed by our relationship and is curious to know if it something like that could help Paul," I stretched the truth considerably.

"Help Paul?" Mom asked, confused. "What's wrong with Paul? Is he sick? How ..."

"Mom, mom. He's not sick. He's very immature. You can see that."

"Yes, well ..."

"He needs something to make him grow up. He needs to focus on something other than computer games and comic books. Mary is very worried about him."

"So you thought feeling me up would distract him? I'M to be his new fascination? You have another thing coming, young man." Mom's voice was rising again as she sat up stiffly in bed.

"Mom, settle down" I cried, exasperated, flailing my arms. "I'm just trying to get Paul interested in his own Mom. I'm trying to trigger a new relationship with his own mom, something more interesting that will leave his toys behind."

"You think Mary wants to ..."

"No, Mom. I just suggested that women would be far more interesting to Paul than computers and toys and that if she could get him interested, he would start noticing girls. She's nervous about it but willing to try if it will help her son."

"But why involve me?"

"I can't very well touch Mary, now can I? And even so, that could push him away from her." Mom nodded. "I thought it would be best to nudge him with a few examples." Mom was still nodding, so I went for it. "Will you help?" Mom stopped, then nodded again.

"Just a little," she said, "to get him started. That's all."

"That's great, Mom. Thanks."

"You tell Mary. I don't want to talk about it with her, but I want her know I'm only going along with it to help Paul."

"Ok, Mom."

"But I don't think it will work," she added. "He didn't even notice."

"Sure he did," I replied. "You know what a fast reader he is, don't you?"

"Yes," Mom answered, clearly not sure what that had to do with anything.

"Did you see him, when I kissed you?"

"Yes. He completely ignored it."

"No, Mom," I corrected her. "His eyes were on the top of the comic book but his attention was on my hand on your breast." I paused for emphasis "He didn't turn the page once."

I could see in Mom's eyes that I was right. Paul had taken the first nibble.

I was just as convincing with Mary. I got get her to acknowledge that Paul had noticed me touching Mom's tit and that she had to be open to him approaching her with the same action but it might take some encouragement on her part. I asked her dress more intimately when they were alone in their apartment. If nothing happened, we might have to expose him to a few more incidents with Mom and I.

After a week of letting Paul see her in just her pajamas, and once in just a skirt and bra, nothing happened. Paul definitely watched his Mom, but he didn't try to kiss her or touch her despite the display or her hugging him more often. He simply returned to his computer or comics after the show was over.

The next week we ate dinner together and Mom cooked again. When Mary rose to get the dessert she had prepared, I rose to once more stand behind Mom and asked her to close her eyes. As I bent over Mom, I saw Paul turn to look, unrestricted by his own mom's absence at the table, my ducked head, and Mom's closed eyes. I cupped a breast in each hand as I thanked Mom for such a lovely dinner. I made sure my tongue was visible on her ear. I could feel myself harden. Mom didn't freeze up. She acted as if everything was natural, as did Mary when she set the dessert on the table while I was still cupping Mom's breasts. Paul didn't look away until I let go of Mom's tits and stood up.

After dessert, I suggested that Paul should thank him Mom. When he didn't move, I stood behind Mary. Both she and Mom were tense, but neither moved. I grasped her by her shoulders. "Well," I said, "you're not my Mom, so a kiss will have to do." I leaned down to give Mary a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for dessert, Mary," I said, and looked at Paul.

Paul mumbled, "Yeah, thanks Mom," and lowered his head.

Not to be deterred, I announced that I had to analyze a movie with a group for a class and report their opinions. Would they all watch it with me after the dishes were done? Sure, they all agreed. "Great," I thanked them. "Some of us are supposed to watch it in normal day clothes, and some while wearing pajamas. We're in the pajama group," I announced.

I don't think even Mom realized that this was all bullshit. I think she thought it was for a real class, until almost halfway through the movie where a Mom has hurt her leg and has to have her college age son help her get around and wash herself and stuff while she's in a full leg cast. He's not happy when he has to delay entering medical school but becomes absorbed with his Mom when she starts asking him to apply lotion around the top edge of her cast, near her private parts, to ease her chafing skin.

By then, we were all intent on the movie as it played out on our large high definition screen. I had dimmed the lights and arranged the seating so that Mary was on the end of one couch with Paul next to her, and I was on the far end of the other couch with Mom leaning against me with her legs tucked up on the couch beside her. I paused the movie a couple of times to make a comment or two but they all complained, insisting we should just watch it first.

But I achieved my goal of having Paul look our way and noticing that my arm was around Mom, and my hand was on her breast. I could feel him glance our way several times and made sure that my hand was gripping Mom's tit each time. Mary, bless her soul, was on cue and pulled Paul against her, resting his head on her own robe-covered breasts.

When the leg-oiling scene came on, I slipped Mom's robe apart and placed my hand directly on her nightie. After the scene ended, and the movie carried on, Paul slipped his eyes over to watch Mom and I. As soon as he did, I began to massage Mom's tit. Mom kept her eyes fixed on the screen but Mary, above and behind Paul so he couldn't see her with his head resting on her chest, watched me fondle Mom too. She seemed to be as mesmerized as her son.

To make it easier for Mom to stay focused on the screen, I pulled her across my lap to let her lay her head on the arm of the couch. I parted her robe and fondled both her tits as I played with her hair, moving my left hand from one to the other until the movie was over. I, too, focused on the screen so our little scene could play out for Paul's benefit and, I curiously found myself hoping, Mary's too. As I rubbed my palms across Mom's nipples, I found myself wondering how Mary's smaller fare would feel, and what she was wearing under the full length robe so tightly wrapped around her body. Could Paul feel her tits pressed against her head?

When the movie was over, I dimmed the lights even further, explaining that people would more openly discuss ideas in a dark room. The room was sufficiently dark that we couldn't see each other. I turned Mom more onto her back and loosened the belt on her robe, parting it to expose her nightie and her legs all the way down, if the lights were on. I let my hand play up and down her body, from her breasts to her thighs, as we began to discuss the movie. Paul didn't comment at first, but soon began to offer comments without direct prodding.

Slowly, our eyes became accustomed to the low light. At first, I could just make out the shapes of Mary and Paul on the other couch but could easily see my hand moving up and down Mom's body. Then I could dimly make out Paul's head against Mary's chest. Mary had turned her back to the couch, as I had turned Mom. Paul's head was now laying right on top of her chest, but he raised it often to look our way. I'm sure he could see Mom's more exposed body.

On one occasion as Paul lifted his head to watch us, I could see arms moving. I don't know if they were Mary's or Paul's but they managed to loosen Mary's robe and push it apart. Then Paul's head lay down again but I could see his head straining to look our way. To encourage him, I twisted Mom a little on her side with her back to the couch and urged Mom's thighs apart. She resisted but eventually gave in to my insistent hand. I pulled her knee up, opening her wide, exposing her silky panties to Paul's view. Bending down, I kissed Mom full on the mouth.

After that, I ended the session, turning the lights up only after Mary and Mom could re-secure their robes. I announced that I had several more movies to do in the project and would appreciate their help in the weeks to come. They all agreed enthusiastically to help, Paul most of all, and we went to our respective beds. I was eager to talk to Mary about Paul's reaction but knew Mom's as soon as we got upstairs.

Mom walked straight to the bed and stopped, removing her robe and letting it fall to the floor. I discarded my pajamas and walked her up onto the bed, on her knees. Keeping her upright by holding her arms by the elbows behind her, I entered her immediately. She was very wet. I thrust urgently into her from behind until we both reached a quick orgasm. Mom leaned back against me, her head lolling back and forth across my chest.

"Oh, God," she cried. "I can't believe how hot it made me when you opened my legs like that. I could feel his eyes on me. It was almost like they were poking inside me." 

She gasped as she said this. I pushed her onto the bed and fed my softening cock into her.

"Yes," she moaned, "fuck me some more."

After a few more shoves, I hardened up and quickened my pace. I could hardly wait to talk to Mary.