The Mom Memories - Chapter 12 - Alwayswantedto - Literotica

"Umhmmm," I nodded.

"I'm up here," she laughed.

I kept my eyes fixed on her skirt.

"Jack wants to be a bad boy, again, doesn't he?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Well, he's going to have to wait until the weekend," Mom said, pushing her hair up behind her head and striking a teasing pose.

"That's two days away, Mom," I complained. "Can't you just give naughty Jack a little look, to tide him over?"

"It's too dangerous. His Dad's right upstairs."

"But he never comes down to the laundry room. He's allergic to it."

Mom laughed out loud. "You have a point there," she said. She dropped her hands to her skirt, grasping it on the outside of her legs, lifting it a little, teasing. "I don't know, though."

"Come on, Mom," I begged, "just a little peek."

"I don't think so," she replied, but lifted her skirt up a little more anyway.

"Please, Mom. I'll be good."

"What makes you think I want you to be good?" she teased, pulling her skirt higher, now more than halfway from her knees.

"I'll be whatever you want me to." I could feel myself tingling in my jeans. I knew she was teasing me now, that she would probably let me have a look but not touch her, not while Dad was in the house.

"You really want it, don't you?" Mom's voice was suddenly hoarse, possibly reacting to my obvious need. She pulled her skirt up high enough so I could see her panties peeking out underneath. She swished the skirt from side to side. My mouth was dry, my tongue slipped out to lick my lips.

Mom smiled, "Is that true? Do you really need to see it?" I recognized the excitement in her voice. She was getting into it too.

I dropped to my knees in front of her, gambling on humor. "Yes," I gasped, feigning exaggerated sincerity," I need to pray to the panty god."

Mom laughed out loud again but her voice was still excited when she spoke, "Then pray."

"Oh, great panty god, show yourself, reveal yourself to your true believers," I grasped Mom's legs behind her knees, pulling them slightly apart.

Slowly, Mom raised her skirt higher and higher, until she was holding it by her hips, her panties fully exposed, allowing me to see far more than I had in the car that day.

I pushed my face in close, pulling her legs apart some more, sniffing her musky odor. She was excited, I could smell her dampness already. Her pussy quivered behind her panties, shaking from the washing machine as it rumbled through its load. I slid my hands up the back of her legs, my fingers stretching around the inside of her legs. Up, up, until my fingers were resting below her panty legs.

"Stop, Jack," she said, breathlessly. "You can't touch me, it's too dangerous ... your Dad," her voice trailed off as I looked up into her eyes, then back to stare at her pussy, my need obvious in my eyes. I pressed my fingers into the inside of her thighs, pressuring her legs open.

"Jack, no," Mom said, her voice barely audible above the washer, but her hands still held her skirt high on her hips, leaving herself open to me.

I think she expected me to touch her then, to move my fingers higher onto her panties, but I think I really surprised her, judging by her gasp, when I stuck my tongue way out and pressed it against her mound where it pouted out the farthest, letting it stick there, pushing into the little cleft.

"Oh, god, Jack," she cried, "ohhhhhhhh."

I pushed my tongue against her hard then and when her hands came down to grasp my head, she held me instead of pushing me away. I chewed on her, munching her pouting lips in my mouth. Mom was going wild, 'ohhhhing' and 'ahhhhing'. I spread her legs wide and pushed in, letting her legs slip onto my shoulders while I munched away. I ran my tongue hard side to side under her panties. She really seemed to love that but the best part, I think, was when I pushed my tongue up her center and dug it into her above her mound where I thought her clit would be. She went crazy, jamming her pussy against my face, finally slowing down, just shuddering on my mouth, pressing my nose flat against my face. Then she went still, pushing me away.

Mom turned as I stood. Her voice was normal again, "You may as well take those jeans off while you're down here," she said. "Come on, you can take a clean pair from the dryer. It'll save me carrying them up and down the stairs."

I shucked my jeans off. I never knew what to expect from her. I tossed my jeans on the floor in front of the dryer.

"Your shorts too," she said.

I shucked those too and tossed them down. Mom turned then, smiling, looking down at my rock hard, youthful pole aiming right at her.

"Well, well," she said, "what have we here? You're very naughty, Jack, to show that to your mother. What would your coach say, if he knew you were showing your cock to your mother? You're very bad."

I didn't say anything, afraid to break the spell of whatever game she was playing. I stood there, my cock wavering before her, not the least bit interested in dying down.

Mom suddenly stepped forward, grabbing my cock, hissing in my face, "I have to punish you Jack. I'm going to have to be rough with you." Mom started jacking my cock, slowly, but pulling hard on it, almost painfully.

"How do you like that?" she hissed, jacking me harder, faster. "You don't, do you?"

Yank, yank, yank. Mom's eyes were wild, watching herself manhandle my cock.

"Are you going to behave, now? Huh? Are you?" she yelled, forgetting her caution about Dad being right upstairs.

Mom pulled her skirt up with her free hand, baring her panties again. She pressed closer to me, jacking my cock, pulling it toward her until my tip was banging against her. She stopped and rubbed my head on her mound, then started slowly jacking me against that puffiest part of her panties. She was gasping now.

"You bad fucking boy," she hissed, repeating it over and over, yanking my cock against her panty clad pussy.

It was too much. I came, splashing my cum all over the front of her panties and up onto the skirt where she was holding it above her belly. She moaned as I released spurt after spurt, holding my cock still against her mound, quivering. I think she came.

When I was finished, Mom dropped her skirt, and turned her back to me.

"Get dressed in clean clothes and go upstairs to visit with your Dad," she said. She didn't make any move to clean herself or take her spunked clothes off. She just stood there, though I knew she was covered in my cum. I dressed and left.

"Don't you dare tell your mom," Carrie insisted, looking out the kitchen window into the backyard, watching my Dad and her husband drink a beer on the lawn as they chatted. She was holding her skirt high, showing me the back of the little panties she'd been telling me about since Dad and I arrived after my game on Saturday, supposedly to help Uncle Jim with some chores. But he'd forgotten all about it, so he and Dad decided to have a beer, leaving Aunt Carrie and I alone, just what Mom didn't want.

"She's so prudish, always has been," Carrie insisted, looking over her shoulder at me. "Do you like them?"

"Love them," I answered, the truth of it obvious in my eyes as I gazed at the delicate little triangle trying to cover at least part of her ass. Her ass really was surprisingly nice. Her cheeks were quite prominent, sticking out, but they had a really nice pear shape to them and were quite firm, something that wasn't that obvious when covered by jeans or a skirt.

"You have a really great ass, Aunt Carrie."

"You shouldn't talk like that. Anyway, you're supposed to be looking at my panties, not my ass."

"But your ass is beautiful, Aunt Carrie."

"I told you, you can call me Carrie when we're alone."

"Don't you like me calling you Auntie?" I stepped closer to her. "I kind of like it," I said.

"I don't mind," she husked, "if you like it."

"I do," I whispered in her ear, standing very close behind her, touching her panties on the outside of each cheek where they desperately tried to cover about a quarter of her supple ass.

"I didn't say you could touch me, Jack."

"I know," I whispered back, sliding my palms onto her little pears, squeezing them lightly in my hands.

"Oh, Jack. You're being very naughty."

"I know," I whispered, continuing to massage her cheeks. "Does Uncle Jim do you like this, from behind?"

"JACK!"

"Does he put his thing against your bum?"

"Of course not. He would never do that."

"He's crazy, then. You have a gorgeous ass, Auntie," I whispered in her ear, then kissed it. I used the distraction to hook my thumbs in the waistband of her panties, and tugged them down her cheeks.

"Jack, stop," she protested.

"Are they coming back in?" I asked.

"No."

"Then let me see. You showed me your panties, but I want to see your bare ass."

"No, that's too far."

"I'll tell Mom you showed me your panties," I threatened. I tugged her panties down from her cheeks, leaving them stretched across the top of her legs. "Just let me look at it," I purred, "it's so beautiful it could be a shrine."

I kicked her feet wider, parting her legs. "Wow, just awesome." I ran my hands over her ass despite my promise just to look. "That's incredible, Auntie," I whispered, sliding my hand along her crack and underneath her bum. "You have the most awesome bum in the world. Are you sure Uncle Jim doesn't touch you from behind, like this?" I slipped my hand right under her, sliding my fingers forward to rub along her bare pussy.

"Jack, Jack," she gasped, her hips jerking forward, and then back as my finger slipped into her damp groove.

"Are they coming?" I whispered.

"No. But stop. You can't," she cried, but she didn't resist as I used my left forearm on her back to press her forward, reaching down and pushing my fingers into her, right up into her wet cunt. Quickly, I jammed my hand against her, fingering her cunt rapidly, the wet squishy sound bearing witness to how horny my aunt really was.

"ohhhh, ohhh, ohh, ahh, ahhh, ahhh," she gasped, pushing her bottom out to provide better access for my supposedly unwanted touch.

"I'd take you from behind, Auntie," I whispered harshly, shoving my fingers in and out, reaming her pussy, "like this, against the counter."

"No, Jack ... don't," she moaned. I slipped my hand around lto ightly grasp her by the throat.

"Don't you want get fucked from behind?" I gasped, feeling my load surging from my balls, mentally trying to stop it before I messed my shorts. I shoved my fingers right in and held them, vibrating, until she came. I couldn't help shooting into my own pants as she did.

When we were done, Carrie stood at the counter, not even pulling her panties up. Perhaps she was in shock, realizing that she had lost control of her little game with me.

I rubbed my hand over her ass. "Awesome," I said, dipping down to rub the wet part underneath. "I need to have you," I said, "I can't wait long."

"I can't, Jack. I just can't do that."

"Think about it, Auntie," I nibbled her ear, "next time you're in bed with old Jim on top of you, and then think about me instead, behind you, hard and ready."

I left. On the way home, my jersey covering my soaked lap to hide it from Dad, I couldn't believe how confidently I had handled my aunt. I don't know where that had come from, but it had been so easy. As soon as I showed a little confidence she let me take over. Women must like a man to be decisive, I realized. It was like if the man was in control, then they weren't responsible for what happened.

I could hardly wait to get home, to see Mom, to crank our little game up another notch.

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I paused. There was more of Jack's letter, much more. But I needed a breather. I went out for lunch. When I came back, Mom still wasn't home so I returned to the study. There was still no activity on the monitors, so I continued with Jack's letter.

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"How was the game," Mom asked cheerily when Dad and I got home.

"Okay," I tossed back as Dad and I sat at the kitchen table.

"Okay?" Dad said, "the kid was awesome, he was the star of the game."

"That's great," Mom said. "So, did you go out to celebrate? Its almost dinner time."

"No, no," Dad replied, "we dropped in to see if Jim still needed help."

"Oh," Mom's tone became noticeably less cheery within a single syllable. "And did he?"

"No, no," Dad said, "he'd forgotten all about it. You know Jim."

"So what kept you?" Mom was fussing around in the cupboards as she talked.

"Oh, we just sat outside and had a couple of beers," Dad answered.

"To celebrate Jack's game?" Mom casually asked. I could tell she was digging for information but Dad didn't seem to see it.

"No. Just Jim and I. Jack stayed inside and visited with his Aunt Carrie."

"Oh, I see," Mom said, quietly, turning to work at the far counter, her back towards us.

Dad got up to get another beer out of the fridge. "Jack?" he held the beer up toward me. I shook my head. "Call me when dinner's ready," Dad said, walking out, "I'm gonna watch the news."

I sat alone, watching Mom, knowing she was pissed that I'd been alone with Carrie. I watched her, admiring her legs, at least from the part that was showing from her knees down. I liked the way her bottom shook as she cut vegetables up on the counter. Carrie had a dynamite ass. I had been really surprised by how awesome it looked, how sexy her protruding cheeks were when bared. Mom's ass looked to be the same, just like everything else about them. I could see her cheeks sticking out, jiggling under her pleated skirt. As my cock tingled, I was surprised that I hadn't noticed her bottom before and, despite my desperate need for a shower, I couldn't pull myself away from watching it. Having seen Carrie's magnificent butt, I could hardly wait to see Mom's.

I stood and walked to stand about five feet behind Mom, still holding my jersey in front of my shorts.

"Nothing happened, Mom," I quietly offered. "We just talked. Aunt Carrie wasn't about to do anything with Dad and Uncle Jim right outside."

Mom kept slicing and dicing for a bit but then responded, "No. I guess not. But I bet she wanted to."

"Maybe," I laughed, "She looked pretty good from behind, I have to admit."

"From behind? What are you talking about?"

"I mean she looks good in tight pants, that's all."

Mom seemed angry again. "Oh, so she was showing off her tush."

"Well its worth showing, Mom. Almost as much as yours."

"Uh huh. So you think I'll feel better if you tell me I have a nice fanny too?"

"What do you think I'm looking at?" I laughed.

Mom whirled around, the knife still in her hand. "Oh, you," she cried, her face flushing red.

I backed off. "Whoa Mom," I laughed. "I was just looking. I just wanted to make sure yours was the best."

Mom looked down at the knife in her hand and at me backing away and laughed herself. "And?"

"Definitely, Mom. You're the best."

I turned to leave for the shower.

"You'd better say that, young man," she called after me.

I whacked off in the shower, partly because I was remembering Carrie's ass, partly because I was imagining Mom's, and partly because I'd sat and talked to Mom with my shorts full of cum after fingering her best friend. Unfortunately, there was no practice tomorrow, so I didn't know how to get some alone time with Mom.

Mom had made a roast beef with yorkshire pudding and potatoes around the roast, the way I loved them. We had wine for dinner, to celebrate my great game. I helped Mom with the dishes after we had custard for dessert while Dad disappeared into the living room. Since the good china couldn't go in the dishwasher we did the whole lot by hand. I spent a lot of time behind Mom, drying dishes, and watching her behind.

"I know what you're doing back there, mister. You just remember your Dad is right around the corner," Mom gave me a quiet warning to behave myself. "I don't think he'd understand you staring at your mother's butt."

"I'd hear him coming," I defended myself.

"I don't care. Cut it out."

I put a bowl she'd just washed back into the sink.

"There's nothing wrong with that, it's clean," she complained, carefully turning it over in her hands, inspecting it closely.

"It's dirty," I said, but Mom was suspicious.

"You're just trying to make this take longer, you little brat," she accused me.

"Why would I want to take longer doing the dishes?" I asked.

"Yeah, I wonder, Mom," replied sarcastically.

I laughed at her obvious implication. "Come on, Mom. You may have a great heinie, but I don't think I'd do dishes all night just to look at it."

"Really?" Mom asked, taking a plate she'd just put in the rack and rewashing it, "So I guess it's not all that great then, maybe not as nice as Carrie's."

I leaned close to her and quietly said, "If you lift your skirt so I can see better, I could tell for sure."

Mom pushed her elbow back to shove me away. "Stop that nonsense," she whispered. "Your Dad is sitting right there in the living room."

I took a plate to dry and wandered over to the kitchen door while I dried it, peeking into the living room. I sauntered back, put the plate on the counter, and stood behind Mom, without taking another dish.

Leaning in by her ear again, I whispered, "He's sleeping. Passed right out."

"No way," Mom replied.

"Go see for yourself," I suggested. "By the way, he and Uncle Jim had more like four our five beers, so with a couple glasses of wine, he's probably done for at least a couple of hours."

I could see Mom was angry with Dad. "He knows he's not supposed to have that much alcohol, especially while he's on his medicine. Damn it. When will he ever learn?" Mom started scrubbing quite vigorously, venting her anger on a pot.

"Jeez, Mom. Did you know your little tush looks even more beautiful when it's angry?"

Some of her anger dissipated when she heard my ludicrous comment.

"Good grief. One track mind. Can't you think of anything else?" she said, exasperated.

"Not when you're in the room," I admitted, "and I think about you most of the rest of the time too. I even thought about you while I was visiting with Aunt Carrie," I added, truthfully.

"You didn't."

"I did."

Mom's scrubbing relaxed to a gentle wash, slowly rubbing the scrubber lightly over the same pot.

"Let me see it, Mom."

"What?"

"Your butt."

"No!"

"Just a little peek."

"Your Dad is right next door."

"He's sleeping, Mom," I argued. "Just let me lift your skirt for a quick peek," I pleaded, "you're wearing panties anyway."

"Jack, for god's sake."

"I didn't look at Aunt Carrie's," I lied, "because YOU'RE my Mom."

I dropped that bomb, feeding off her similar statement to me, hoping to push her jealousy buttons. Mom didn't reply, she just kept scrubbing that same pot, but more roughly now. I could see she was pissed about me mentioning Carrie, reminding her that I'd been alone with her while Dad and Uncle Jim downed several beers, and no doubt not liking the implied threat to do something with Carrie if Mom wouldn't.

I walked over to the doorway and checked on Dad and then back to Mom. "He's snoring, Mom."

She didn't acknowledge me, she just kept scrubbing that same pot.

"I'm going to take a quick peek," I said, reaching down to grasp the hem of her skirt behind her knees. Mom kept scrubbing, ignoring me. "Just a peek," I said, slowly pulling her skirt up the back of her legs, feeling a little thrill as the back of her thighs were revealed, then her panties as I lifted the skirt up and over her bottom.

I was right. Her butt was just like Carrie's, sloping out from her back in a gentle curve, like following the curve from the top of a large pear onto the bulbous part of the fruit. Her cheeks were widely separated, leaving a distinct divide between them, unlike some older women whose cheeks were mashed together. Her panties covered less than half her butt, and there was an enticing gap where they stretched across the canyon between her cheeks.

"My god, Mom. You're awesome!" I cried, stunned that her butt was even nicer than Carrie's. How did these older women hide such great asses?

"It's demeaning," Mom said, "you looking at me like that. It's gross."

"Demeaning?" I repeated incredulously. "How can it be demeaning to look at something so beautiful? You have the most gorgeous ass, Mom."

"It's just a bum, a place for doing your business. It's not beautiful."

"You're wrong, Mom. You have an incredible ass and I love the look of it." I released one hand from her skirt and moved it to rest on the bare skin of her hip above her panties. "You can't tell me that Dad doesn't spend a lot of time looking a this little wonder," I patted the side of her right cheek to make my point.

"Of course he doesn't!" Mom barked, in her anger, not realizing I was touching her bottom, having let my hand stay on the side of her cheek.

I pushed her further. "I don't believe it. You mean, he's never put you over on your tummy?" I let my fingers slide over the underside of her cheek. God, what an ass.

"Jack! Don't talk filthy like that. That's how animals do it."

"That's how women like to do it nowadays," I whispered, squeezing her right cheek, "that's what the guys at school say, anyway."

I moved my hand away and let Mom's skirt drop. She seemed to be pretty rattled and I didn't want to go too far. She seemed to breathe easier once she was covered her again.

"Are you sure Dad doesn't touch your bum?"

"Of course he doesn't."

"He's nuts then. I'd love to touch it."

"Why?" Mom seemed genuinely perplexed.

"Because it's beautiful, and it's yours, and ..." I pushed another button, "because I'd be the first, the only one you let touch it."

I watched her face, from behind her to the side, watched the flicker of her eyes as my words sunk in. I spoke again, before she thought too much about it.

"You haven't, have you?" I asked, "let anyone else?"

I put my hand on her cheek, outside her skirt, possessively, like I had a right to do so.

"No," Mom replied quietly. "You'd be the first."

"That's great," I whispered, letting my hand slide across to her other cheek, then brushing around in an oval across both. "Just me then, not even Dad."

Mom's face tilted forward, her chin hitting her chest. I continued brushing my hand across the back of her skirt, hoping to trigger a sensation she hadn't experienced before.

"Alright," she said quietly.

As soon as she said that I put both arms around her, hugging her from behind, whispering in her ear, "I love you, Mom."

"Mmhmm."

"Will you let me look again when we're by ourselves?" I asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

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I noticed the phone was blinking. It was a message from Mom. Christ, the phone had rung and I hadn't even heard it. Mom's message said she was staying at the golf club for dinner with her friends and that she would be late, so I was to fend for myself. I looked at my watch. It was almost five. I wandered out to tell Mary that Mom wasn't coming home but I would watch over Dad.

Dad had been good today, Mary told me. He should rest now for the rest of the night, she said. I asked her how things were going with Paul. Fine, she told me. He wasn't reading comics at all anymore. She gave me a funny smile then, like we were sharing a secret, then said she had to go, Paul would be waiting for his dinner.

How could I get close to this sexy woman again, I wondered.

I made myself a quick dinner and took it back to the study. Instead of continuing with Jack's monograph, I watched the video monitors live while I ate.

Mary and Paul bustled about the kitchen making dinner, mostly in silence, but there was a new intimacy in the air. Paul touched his mom quite a bit. Nothing overtly sexual, just little touches on her shoulder, her upper arm, her hip or waist if he was nearby. The only overtly sexual touch came when she was washing vegetables in the sink and he hugged her from behind, leaning down to kiss her neck. He paused after kissing her, as if thinking about something, then leaned down to give her a much longer kiss in the nape of her neck, sliding up to kiss her ear, his hands sipping around her waist to her tummy but not high enough to caress her breasts. Before stepping away, Paul's ass pushed forward, clearly pressing his front into his mother's behind.

"Stop that," Mary slapped behind her but Paul had already stepped back out of the way.

Paul laughed. "I've been good today, Mom," he said, "very good."

"Uh huh. Well, you'll just have to wait until after dinner to have your treat."

Paul smiled, seemingly relaxed. "I know," he said, "I'm not in any hurry."

They ate dinner, taking their time, then had some dessert with some tea. After that they moved to the living room and watched TV for an hour. For some reason, I watched them the whole time. After the second show, Mary scanned the channel listings, looking disgusted, "There's nothing on, as usual," she said. "Pick out a movie, Paul."

Paul got up and rummaged through their DVD selection, making several suggestions, none of which Mary accepted, before getting a match.

"Are you sure you want to watch that?" Mary asked, "It's a chick flick."

"Sure," Paul replied, walking down the hall with it.

"Where are you going?" Mary called after him.

"To watch it in the bedroom," Paul called back.

Mary followed Paul after turning out the lights in the kitchen and living room. Paul had finished putting the movie in when she came in and was already in bed, clearly having stripped down to his shorts since his clothes were tossed on the floor by the side of the bed. He was fiddling with the remote when Mary entered.

Mary casually began taking her green nursing garb off, starting with the baggy pants. She didn't seem to pay attention to the fact that her son was watching her. She didn't hurry or make any move to cover herself. If anything, she undressed more slowly than one would have thought necessary. Perhaps this was part of Paul's treat.

She looked sexy in her top, which fell just below her behind, moving around with most of her legs showing, taking off her earrings, cocking her head first this way, then that. She disappeared into the bathroom but left the door open, the tinkling in the toilet clearly audible, followed by water running in the sink, and the toilet flushing. She reappeared still wearing her top, her face looking freshly scrubbed, and sauntered over to her dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out a clean nightshirt.

Dropping the plain white nightshirt on the end of the bed, Mary crossed her arms in front of her, reached down, and pulled her top over her head, discarding it on the floor. Facing the bed, and her son, she unhooked the front of her bra opened it wide, and slipped it off over her arms, her small tight breasts jostling between her arms. Arching her back, she stretched, her pert, bare breasts pushing out and her nipples poking toward the ceiling. Taking her time, she picked up the nightshirt, aligned it properly, and pulled it over her head, fitting it snugly into place on her shoulders before smoothing it down over her hips and legs. Turning her back to her son, she lifted the hem up to her hips, exposing her butt, and snaked her panties down and off her legs, stepping her feet out one at a time. Finally, she walked around her side of the bed, pulled the covers back and slipped in, propping pillows up behind her head so she could easily watch the TV.

"Ready?" she asked.

Paul started the movie for reply, the first time he'd taken his eyes off his mother since she'd entered the bedroom. The watched the movie for twenty minutes before Paul turned toward his mother and snuggled closer. Mary ignored his more intimate presence, even when I could see his hands moving over her legs under the covers. It wasn't until his hands moved up into her lap that Mary reacted.

"Not there, Paul." Mary moved her hands down to her lap, outside the covers, to hold Paul's still.

"Come on, Mom. Just let me feel a bit."

"No Paul. I don't have any panties on."

"You could put them back on." I could see that Paul was still trying to move his hand, and Mary was still struggling to keep it still.

"I said no."

"Just for a minute, Mom."

"No."

"Thirty seconds."

"You're being childish.

"But I'm not reading comics."

"I know."

"Ten seconds."

"Alright, ten seconds. No more."

Mary pulled her hands away. I could see Paul's hand moving in her lap, his elbow lifting under the covers, clearly trying to angle his hand between her legs and onto her pussy. Mary's face told me when he found her. Ten seconds went by while his hand fumbled under the covers. Twenty seconds, ... thirty seconds. Mary's eyes closed, her head leaning back. Forty, fifty, over a minute. Paul's hand was very busy, his face wore a satisfied grin.

Suddenly, Mary's head lifted and her hands clamped down hard. "That's enough, now."

Paul wiped the smug grin from his face, "Awww, Mom.

"That's enough for now," Mary repeated, face flushed, voice firm, but excited.

Paul moved his hand up, above the covers. It was underneath Mary's nightshirt. I watched, fascinated as Mary allowed her son to caress her tummy, his hand moving in a circle under her nightshirt from just below her breasts to the top of the bed covers. Mary's attention returned to the movie, and she seemed uninterested in what her son was doing. Paul completely ignored the TV.

It took a while, but eventually, Paul's hand began disappearing under the top of the bed covers, lower on Mary's belly. Soon, it was spending more and more of its time lower down than above and seemed to be dipping lower and lower. Mary studiously watched the TV although it seemed to be more and more difficult for her to concentrate. Finally, she pulled her knees up and admonished her son.

"Paul, stop it." Mary pushed Paul's hand off to the side. "Just watch the movie, now."

Paul stayed still, laying beside his mother, facing her, for about ten minutes, not once turning to look at the TV. Then, subtle movements indicated he was up to something. He hadn't put his hand on top of again, and her knees were still drawn up, but I could tell that he had moved his hand toward her again.

Once again, Mary's face told the tale. She seemed to almost wince, looking more than a little surprised. But other than that, she didn't react. Her attention to the movie began to wane within a few minutes and a minute later her eyes closed, her head leaning back once more. But this time, her lips parted in a silent sigh, and her knees, under the covers, separated, falling at least a foot apart. Mary began to breath more rapidly as the movement of Paul's arm became more apparent. He was clearly under her open legs, between them, and was probably touching her pussy, maybe even fingering her. I didn't know if he'd started stroking the backs of her thighs first or he'd gone directly to her quim, but I was pretty sure at this point that he was fingering her, and she was letting him.

Mary's mouth was open wide now and she was clearly reacting to a vigorous fingering, her feet digging into the bed to help her hips lift to meet her son's welcome assault. Paul got up on his left elbow to increase his leverage and began putting greater effort into a serious frigging of his Mom's pussy. I don't know if he had much finesse, but Mary was clearly enjoying herself. She was literally fucking her son's hand, digging her heels in and thrusting her ass up off the bed, moaning loudly now.

"Ugghhh, ugggghhhh, ugggghhhh, uhhh, uhhh, uggghhhh."

Paul was having a hard time keeping his hand in her. I think he was just trying to hold it in her hole while she fucked it. I think he'd given up trying to finger her. She was way past that.

Suddenly, Mary let out a loud wail, holding herself up off the bed, her hips grinding against Paul's hand, before collapsing back, falling silent, her head turning to the side on the pillows.

Paul climbed up to a sitting position, watching his Mom, almost in shock. He pulled his hand out from under the covers, intrigued by the glistening sheen that covered it as he examined it in the bedroom light. Slowly, he extricated himself from the covers, careful to keep his mother covered. I was surprised by this, thinking he would peel the covers back to reveal her naked body since he must surely have pushed her nightshirt up far enough that he'd be able to see her bare, wet pussy. But he didn't. He was careful not to disturb her as he clambered over her and straddled her torso.

Gently, Paul took Mary's arm and slowly lifted it, feeding her hand through one of the loops in the straps he'd recently attached to the headboard, pushing it through to the elbow. Carefully, he did the same with her other arm. Mary lay still, her breathing now normal but her head still turned slightly to the side, and her eyes closed. Was she too ashamed to open them? Could she not face her son, having abandoned herself to fucking his hand so wildly? I don't know, but she clearly let him arrange her in the straps she'd so actively protested just days earlier.

Paul stretched up on his knees, and pulled his shorts down, his cock with its massive, weighty head flopping down to hang in front of him, sufficiently stiff to hold a horizontal plane. Almost immediately, it began to harden and rise above that horizon. Gently, he reached down to straighten Mary's head and lift her chin. Slowly, he moved forward until his massive cockhead brushed her lips. He moved them back and forth across her lips but they didn't open. Not to be discouraged, Paul used his thumb to push Mary's chin down, inserting the narrow leading edge of his purple helmet into the inviting, moist slit.

Patiently, Paul slid his cock side to side, using his hand to guide it. Very, very gently, he pushed forward about every thirty seconds or so, shoving more of his cock into his mother's mouth. After roughly ten minutes of this very patient play, he managed to get about half of his large cock head in his mother's mouth. Mary did have a wide mouth and she wasn't straining at this point, though my mom wouldn't have been able to take much more. Paul's thumbs slid along the side of Mary's mouth, between her lips and inside, pressuring her to open even more, as if he was trying to get a dog to open its mouth to eat something it didn't really want.

Push, push, push. Paul was now trying more frequently to shove more of his cock into Mary's mouth. She seemed to be aware that her son wanted to fuck her mouth and she was trying to accommodate him. Paul was rocking steadily now, just a half inch to and fro, almost there. Shove, shove, shove.

He was in. He stopped moving, holding Mary's head, throwing his own back, releasing a long, "Ahhhhhhhhhhh."

Tipping his head forward, he resumed his mini-strokes in his mom's mouth. Though he could only get about an inch of his shaft inside, he filled her back to her throat and up to the roof of her mouth. Drool started spilling from her lips as he pulled back and I could hear her snorting through her nostrils, sucking in air. Paul continued face fucking his mother, moving faster yet carefully, aware that he could hurt her. A sloppy, gooey sound filled the air, like the sound of a copiously wet woman, as his cock slipped through her drool. Paul was becoming very excited. Mary extricated her hands from the straps and braced them against his hips, recognizing that he was close, making sure he wouldn't suddenly start driving his meat through her head.

"aaaAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Paul cried out as explosions of come ripped into Mary's face, squirting out the tiny gaps on either side of her mouth and, grossly, through her nose again before she could shove him away, receiving blast after blast in her face. Mary's eyes were closed, her face dripping with cum, when Paul pulled away to look down at her. He just stared as she lay there covered in his cream, watching it drip from her chin to her neck and slide between her breasts. He reached down, grasped her nightshirt, and ripped it open, tearing it apart so it couldn't block the stream of cum from running between her tits. Moving back, he dipped his hips and rubbed his cock from Mary's neck, down through her breasts, following his river of semen. After spreading it around, he got up and headed for the bathroom.

Mary grabbed the tatters of her nightshirt and pulled it up to wipe her face. Still plastered with his goo but able to see, she silently followed her son to the shower.

I turned back to read the rest of Jack's letter.

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The next day produced a rare event right from the get go. My father missed church. Mom was still mad at him so she had little patience for his complaints about not feeling too well. She wore an angry demeanor as we left for church, dressed in a conservative, grey tweed dress with matching jacket and white blouse. Try as I might, I couldn't see the outlines of her magnificent ass while following her to the car, and there was no flashing action as I held the door open for her.

On the way home, I suggested we take a Sunday drive since it was such a nice day. Mom agreed, being in no hurry, I think, to rush home to her husband. I headed out on a circular route that would take us through pleasant country and several small burgs on our way home, stopping at the first little place for ice cream cones. Before we got back in the car, Mom took her dress jacket off in case the ice cream dripped, laying it carefully on the back street. We were now far enough from home that we were unlikely to meet anyone we knew but, even so, I was surprised when Mom slid into the middle as we drove away.

Mom didn't say anything. She seemed to be interested in surveying the sunny countryside which suited me. I was able to glance down at her figure and enjoy the closeness of her body, her thigh touching mine, even though it was covered by a thick tweed skirt that covered her knees and offered no opportunity for me to slip my hand between her legs. So my eyes shifted elsewhere, drifting up toward her neck and face, but soon slipped lower when my brain caught up with my eyes.

It had taken a moment for me to register that Mom's white blouse, pleasantly filled out by her nicely sized breasts, seemed to fit her rather closer than usual. As I stared, it slowly dawned on me that there were no heavy lines indicating the presence of a motherly bra under the white cotton of her blouse. What the hey? Mom wasn't wearing a bra? Did she always dress this way when going to church? I racked my brain, dredging up memories of us getting ready for church. Mom usually didn't put her grey jacket on until we were about to leave, and I didn't remember ever seeing her like this, and there's no way I wouldn't have noticed her walking around in a blouse with her breasts jiggling about. Nope. This was a first.

Right way, my real brain stirred between my legs. As soon as I finished my ice cream, I casually stretched my arm around Mom's shoulders, resting my hand on the outside of her upper arm. Mom didn't say anything but she turned and smiled, snuggling in closer to me. As we drove, I brushed her arm, from her shoulder to her elbow, with my fingertips. The presence of her unencumbered breasts so close to my hand sent electric tingles up my fingers, sparking all the way to my shoulder and then splitting, traveling up to my head and down to my groin. I grew a substantial semi-stiffy.

When we drove through another small village area Mom asked if I wanted to stop and walk about for awhile, but I declined, stating that I was really enjoying just driving like this. Mom gave me a peculiarly satisfied smile before hugging her head to my shoulder, keeping it there as we drove on. With Mom twisted forward to keep her head on the front of my shoulder, I let my stroking fingers slide to the sensitive back of her upper arm. When she giggled, twisting her right side even further forward and saying that 'tickled', I slipped my fingers down to stroke along the side of her waist.

I lengthened the strokes of my fingers as we drove, managing to brush along the edge of her breasts. There was no question, she wasn't wearing a bra. I could feel the swells as her tits sagged and jostled from the lack of support. I was thrilled, and so was my cock. I became more daring, brushing the side of her breasts intentionally.

"I thought it was my rear end that so fascinated you," Mom suddenly spoke.

"What?" I responded, surprised, trying to sound innocent.

"You heard me," Mom said.

"I just tickling your arm," I protested, "and your side," I added lamely.

"Oh? Does that feel like an arm to you?"

I placed my fingers right on the heavy part of her breast, on the side, and tapped it toward me.

"You mean this arm," I answered with a laugh.

Mom laughed in response. "Yes," she said, "are you going to keep tickling my arm?"

"Absolutely," I replied, "as long as it feels good to you."

I let my fingers splay out around her breast, massaging the heavy womanly meatiness in an obviously sexual grope. I tried to shift my arm further around her to increase my grip but couldn't until she lowered her shoulder, allowing me slip my hand in to cup her tit in my fingers and palm. We drove for a mile or so before Mom straightened up, squaring her back to the seat and forcing my hand off her breast and up to her shoulder. I was disappointed but realized she was probably uncomfortable sitting scrunched down like that.

Imagine how pleased I was when my dear mother took my hand in hers and dragged it off her shoulder, pulling it down around her neck, to place it, palm down, right on her right tit.

"There," she said, patting my hand before dropping hers away, "that's better."

For the next few miles, I gently massaged Mom's right tit, feeling her nipple swell and stiffen as we drove in silence. Though I tried, I couldn't reach her left tit but I was satisfied with just the one. We even drove through the next small place with my hand in place. Mom made no move to push me away, or to cover it with her own. On the way out, Mom complained that it was really getting warm but stopped me from undoing the window.

"That was the last town before we get home, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Yup," I acknowledged.

"Can you take that old road, what is it ... Enderby Road?"

"Sure," I agreed. I was happy to take the long way, even down a windy, not very scenic road running through the middle of nowhere. I would have gone through China as long as she let me play with her tit.

As soon as I spoke, Mom's hands came up and started undoing the buttons on her blouse. I almost missed the road watching her.

"Keep your eye on the road, mister," she admonished me.

I slowed down instead, keeping my eye on her as she undid the second, and third button. I was shocked when she undid the fourth and then the fifth, right down to the waistband of her skirt. She dropped her hands into her lap, not saying anything about what she'd just done.

Tentatively, I moved my fingers over and hooked the edge of the open blouse, dragging it over to the side, just a bit. Mom didn't react, she just watched the road. Emboldened, I pulled more, far enough to expose her nipple and, when she didn't berate me, pulled it all the way over, exposing her entire breast. I was in my glory when my hand closed over her, holding her bare tit against my own skin, feeling her nipple poke into my palm, relishing in the jolt that contact sent through my entire body.

"Oh Mom, you're beautiful," I cried, "the most gorgeous woman in the world."

Mom laughed at my boyish enthusiasm. "So you like these as much as my bottom?"

"I love them. Can we stop, Mom? Just for a few minutes?"

"Alright," she laughed, seemingly enjoying my obvious excitement, "pull over up there," she pointed ahead to a flat glassy part off to the side of the road, overlooking a farmer's field.

I swung quickly in, keeping the car facing away from the road, and quickly shut it off, turning to face her.

Mom said, "Just for a few minutes. I want to get home and get Dad to do some things for me, out in the back, before supper."

"Ok, Mom," I quickly agreed, grasping her blouse and pulling it wide, seeing her heavy breasts completely for the first time in my life. I slipped both hands down to cup a tit in each hand, Mom turning toward me to help. I rubbed and squeezed them, trying to get her nipples in the hollow between my thumbs and forefingers, pinching them there. She seemed to like that quite a bit, sucking her breath in each time I did it, sighing and even moaning when I learned to keep them pinched like that for longer, and pulling them away from her tits but not letting them fall from my hands. 

Our few minutes turned into almost half an hour working her tits and nipples around in everyway I could think of, and I was kissing her, right on the mouth, with my tongue inside, for the last five or ten minutes, whispering over and over, "I love you, Mom."

My cock was rock hard and Mom was panting just as hard as I when she finally shoved her hand between my legs, gripped my cock, and said, "We have to get home," panting hard, "we can't be seen like this."

Reluctantly, but having no choice in the matter, I pulled away, started the car and headed down the road. Mom immediately started buttoning her blouse and then fixed her hair in the mirror as I drove quickly down the road. It doesn't take long to get back to the barn when you think its feeding time. Mom was sitting by the door long before we turned into our driveway.

True to her word, Mom sent Dad out to the back of our few acres to start the new garden area she'd been telling him she wanted. He headed off on the little John Deere he liked to play around with so much but not before she gave me instructions too, in front of Dad, "Jack. I need you to help me with some things around the house." Mom turned and marched upstairs, "Come on," she said.

I followed Mom up the stairs and into her bedroom. She walked over to the bedroom window overlooking the backyard, watching Dad fire up the John Deere and putt out toward the back of our property. I stood about five feet behind her, waiting for her to tell me what to do.

I guess I shouldn't have been, but I was quite shocked when Mom's hands casually lifted up to the waistband of her grey, tweed skirt, pulled it away from her back, unhooked it and slid the zipper down its eight inch length. Mom's feet agilely kicked her shoes off and she dropped the skirt down, bending her knees to help her step out of it one foot at a time. Holding the skirt to the side, Mom told me to fold it and lay it over the chair.

Numbly, I took the skirt while Mom's hands disappeared around to her front and began undoing her blouse as she kept watching my Dad slowly drive away on the little tractor. She shrugged her shoulders to help her slip the blouse off, tilting her head back to shake her hair before holding the blouse out to the side for me to take.

"Throw it on the chair," she said.

I could see her gorgeous tits bouncing a little from my vantage point behind her and to one side. Mom was naked except for a pair of panties that graced her lovely ass with similarly frugal coverage as Carrie's had. Her buttocks sloped down in the same separating sag, jutting out in a cock engorging invitation. Stunned, I stared as Mom gripped each side of her panties and pushed them over her hips, down her thighs to below her knees, then let her toes drag them over her calf and off her lifted foot, one leg at a time.

"Oh, sorry," she remarked casually, "I guess you might have wanted to do that."

My cock was diamond hard now.

"Pick my panties up and put them in your pocket," Mom said, still watching my dad.

Moving sluggishly as if I was in a dream, I bent down to grab Mom's panties, stuffing them into my right pocket as Mom stepped closer to the window and leaned forward, reaching out to put a hand on each side. Her feet were more thatn a foot apart, and her legs tensed prettily with the slight strain of holding herself from falling through the glass. Her bare ass was the most incredible thing I have ever set eyes on, including Carrie's when I had dragged her panties down below her cheeks.

"You'd better get your church clothes off if we're going to get our chores done," Mom said.

Chores? Did she think I could do chores after seeing her like this?

Nevertheless, I obediently began to undress. Slowly, at first, and then quickly as I watched Mom watching Dad trundle away, in the distance now, her legs swaying slightly, her ass moving in concert but also dipping forward slightly and rising backward, enticing, inviting. Come to me, I could imagine it saying. My pants hit the floor with a thump and I could see Mom's head turn slightly to the side, cocking her ear as she listened to my stumbling as I peeled my socks off.

"Is it what you imagined?" she asked when I was finally still, moving her ass in an exaggerated circle.

I rushed forward, dropping to my knees behind her, grasping her bare hips and pressing my face to her soft buttocks, kissing each one in turn and rubbing my cheeks against her nether ones.

"Is it as good as hers?," Mom demanded, trying to move her butt away from my face but unable to avoid the rain of kisses I showered on her cheeks.

The only answer I could muster was to moan between kisses and nibbles on those pear-shaped wonders until Mom pushed away from the window and reached down, covering my hands on her hips with hers, pulling up and tugging them around onto her breasts that, though heavy enough to sag, still sprang proudly from her chest.

"Touch me," she whispered, "play with them."

I hugged Mom to me, kneading her tits, rolling and pinching her nipples, watching my Dad, as did she, until he turned and disappeared behind some trees, not once looking back to witness my illicit molestation of his wife. Mom allowed everything, even letting me press my steel hard boner between her cheeks with the head poking out above her crack, rocking against her like we were starting to fuck. My brain screamed out in that charged silence, as we watched my Dad rolling away on his toy tractor, 'I want to fuck my Mom'.

"I want you, Jack, "Mom whispered as soon as he was gone, "to lift me onto my bed and put me on my tummy."

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"Hello?" Mom called, "hello?"

Startled, I dropped Jack's letter, pulling my hand from my dick as I leapt up from my chair. Quickly, I shut down the monitor program and rushed out to greet Mom before she came into the study.

Mom had hung up her coat but was still standing in the entrance leaning on the wall with one hand while she slipped her shoes off with the other. She'd already taken one off and she smiled as she looked up when I exited the study.

"Oh hi, dear. I hope I didn't interrupt your studying." Mom walked toward me in her white, sleeveless golfing dress, looking a little tipsy. "Don't worry, Gloria drove me home," she reassured me, "I've had a glass or two."

Mom held out her arms as she neared me. I couldn't help but be proud of this sexy looking woman who had reversed her apparent age by several years since my father had left her daily life. My boner, which had been subsiding since I had leapt from the chair, was already renewing itself when Mom threw her arms around my neck and hugged me to her gorgeously mature, womanly body, softened by a substantial amount of wine.

"I love you, son," Mom cried, kissing my face and then planting her mouth on mine, soon followed by her tongue snaking inside me. Her kiss was urgent, fired by more than the wine. "I've been thinking about you for hours," she said, pulling back to look at me, then down in surprise at where our hips were joined together. "Is that for me?" she asked in a suddenly throaty voice, pressing her pelvis into my hardness, giving it an extra rub. "How lovely of you to greet me with that."

Mom's mouth glued itself to mine again in another vigorous kiss, her tongue entwining with mine in a sensual, slippery duel. She was rubbing herself hard on me. What had made her so horny? There was a sucking sound when she pulled away, her protruding tongue sliding slowly out of my mouth.

"Take me upstairs," she rasped, "now. I need you, right away."

I wasn't about to dawdle, not after that kiss and reading Jack's letter. I picked Mom up in my arms and carried her upstairs and into our bedroom. I took her straight to the bed, setting her down, pulling away to get undressed but unable to slip away before I was once again trapped in her arms, pulling me down for another long, hot snog.

Standing up to shed my clothes, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her as she reached behind herself to unzip her dress, pulling it off her shoulders and lifting her ass to shove it over her hips and then pulling it up to her knees and down over her feet. I was naked by the time she threw her bra across the bed, leaning back into the pillows as I approached. She had raised her legs and snaked one ankle through a strap by the time I got my knee on the bed and the other was through before I could straddle her upraised ass, her eyes fixed on my wobbling, hardened cock.

"Shit," she cried aloud when she saw that she had forgotten her panties. I couldn't help but burst out laughing at her desperate frustration, even more so when she too laughed at her predicament.

"Wait," I cried, as she started to pull her panties off, scrambling to the dresser, grabbing her camera and rushing back to the bedside, lining the camera for a side shot.

"No," Mom shouted, throwing her hand out to block the shot.

"Come on, Mom. It's hilarious," I laughed, snapping pictures but finding it hard to hold the camera still. Mom dropped her hand and even put on a sexy vixen look as I continued to take pictures. I climbed up on the bed, standing to get some high shots, then kneeling for closeups. The clowning around gradually slowed as I snapped the close pictures, the snaps coming farther apart, my gazing longer as I assessed the picture, noting the dark shadow lining Mom's panties as it stretched across the crack of her ass, focusing on the damp spot spreading over her mound. Finally, I stopped snapping pictures all together dropping the camera to the bed and grabbing her panties.

Instead of pulling her panties off, I slipped my fingers inside the legs at the very bottom, between her pussy and her asshole, and poked outward hard, until my finger ripped through the flimsy cotton. Pushing through several fingers from each hand, I pulled until her panties tore apart, yanking until they were ripped from the waistband in front to the one in back, leaving only tatters hanging from her naked thighs. Picking the camera up again, I recorded this fantastically lewd depiction of my mother, trying hard to control my breathing so the picture would be good. I snapped several for good measure, with one or two showing my cock laying over her exposed crack.

Tossing the camera aside, I got up my feet, squatting over her, holding her hips and thighs to steady myself, lined my cock up, and plunged inside her. I worked my cock completely out and back in her for several strokes, in time to her grunts and mine, slowly picking up the pace, transferring my hands from her legs to the headboard as my cock began slipping deep easily, slopping noisily inside her.

I was incredibly horny. What a fuck. Slap, slap, slap. My thighs banged noisily against hers, magnified by wetness gushing from her bruised pussy. I burst on her, spewing my spunk, pulling my cock out to watch it shoot all over her cunt, some shooting past to her tummy and tits, to her neck and her face.

"Don't stop!" she cried, "don't stop."

I pushed my already softening cock back in, shoveling it into her gushy hole, holding the base in my fingers while I pushed in and out until it hardened again. Oh the wonders of youth I thought as once more I began to enjoy the fantastic feeling of pounding a hard cock into my mother's half bent form. It was a long, exhilarating, pounding fuck before my mother cried out, finally ending her long series of grunts and moans. When she was still, gasping for breath, I slid my cock out of her spunky hole and, with pictures of hers and Mary's faces alternating in my mind, full of Paul's cum, I aimed my cock down. Slowly, I jacked my cock, gazing steadily into her eyes as she watched me purposely prepare to flood her face. She waited, patiently, as only a mother could, blowing me a kiss just before I released the first gush, squeezing my cock to unload as much as I could into her waiting mouth.

I came home for lunch the next day, remembering to upload the pictures from the camera and printing a couple of good ones on 4x6 photocards while I scanned the monitor for any activity that morning. I picked up Jack's letter as I munched on a tuna sandwich.

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I guess most of you folks know how it felt to lift my mom and walk her to the bed, feeling her firm ass cheeks folding over my cock, straining to keep it there as I awkwardly moved her onto the mattress. Mom didn't help much. I don't know if it was because this was new territory and she didn't know what to do, or if she was even hornier than I and just couldn't command her muscles to move. Anyway, she was like a rag doll.

I finally got her laying in the middle of the bed, legs parted to make room for me kneeling behind her. I grabbed her hips and pulled her up on her knees, pressing forward to rub my cock, now pointing down, in her ass crack. She had raised herself up onto her hands when I pulled her up on her knees, in a dog stance, but as I rubbed my cock between her cheeks, I put my hand on her back and pushed until she collapsed onto her shoulders, turning her head to the side. I liked the feel of her better this way, with her ass high in the air. She looked like she was more under my control and my cock felt better rubbing along her wet pussy lips now that her ass was cocked higher, forcing her pussy further back. She was breathing fast.

"Do you like it when I'm behind you, Mom?"

She nodded, gasping as I rocked hard against her ass.

"This is only for me, right?" I demanded, "not Dad."

Mom nodded, her shoulders rocking forward as I lunged against her again and again, her neck bending to absorb the shock. I could feel her soaking my cock as it slid beneath her, felt the thrill shoot through me when I heard the first moan escape her lips.

I continued rocking and sliding my cock through her slippery lips until her moan was soft and continuous.

"I'm going to push you down onto your tummy now, Mom," I whispered. "On your tummy," I repeated, louder, but she still didn't acknowledge me, she was in her own world. Perfect, I thought. I slid one hand up to rest on her ass above her crack and used the other to line my cock up on her pussy, then, pressing down, I shoved myself into her.

"No, Jack don't," she gasped. "Your father's still home."

Mom grunted as I quickly banged into her a half dozen times.

"Ohh ... uggh ... unnngh ... ohhhh ... unnngghhh, ... don't ... don't."

"I don't care," I gasped, thrusting into her again.

She moaned, "Please, Jack ... stop ... don't," as I lunged into her harder and harder.

"Get down on your tummy," I urged her forward, pushing harder, "on your tummy."

Mom finally collapsed under my weight. I spread my knees outside her hips, straddling her thighs, digging my toes into the mattress. Moving my hands to her ass cheeks, I spread her wide, opening her pussy lips around my embedded cock. I lunged in as far as I could, forcing a grunt from her mouth, and mine.

"Is this bad, Mommy?" I cried, shoving my cock into her hard again. "Is this naughty enough?" I gasped again as I pulled out and then pushed myself home again, and again, and again, shoving her deep into the mattress. I sat on her like that, fucking and fucking until she cried out and I spilled my son seed inside her, grinding around until I was too soft and slipped out.

I realized Mom was crying when I collapsed on her back to hug her.

"Don't cry, Mom," I begged her, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"I know," she whimpered, "neither could I."

"I'll need you again," I admitted, caressing her neck and shoulder with my fingers, "I can't help it."

"I know," Mom answered, her fingers reaching over her shoulder to touch mine, "neither can I."

"Then what's wrong," I pleaded, "Is it Dad?"

"No," she answered quietly, a salty tear running down her cheek. "I have to go to confession next Sunday."

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And that was the end of Jack's letter. I had to get back to school. There was no time to watch any recordings so I shut down the computer, finished my sandwich and returned my dishes to the kitchen. Paul was there drinking a glass of milk. He was listening for Dad while Mary ran to the store, he explained.

"Oh, later," I said as I set my bag down and hurriedly tossed my dishes in the sink, 'carelessly' dropping my pictures of Mom by the sink when I swung my bag back onto my shoulder, waving to him as I left, knowing he'd rinse his glass and put it in the sink when he finished his milk.

Oh Dave, I thought as I drove to school, what have you done?