Page 03
Mom closed her eyes and a moment later, she began talking again.
It didn't take me long to discover what a bonus I'd stumbled on. With my legs straddling Mom's hips, my crotch was tantalizing close to the bottom of Mom's breasts. I remembered the day when I held Mom's t-shirt while she kneaded the dough, and the softness of her breasts as my hand bumped against them. I rose up on my knees a bit and shifted forward, lowering myself gently until my crotch was stretched across the bottom of the prominent lumps in Mom's shirt. I pushed forward an inch and made contact, watching Mom's face closely for an adverse reaction but, except for a flicker in her speech, Mom didn't react.
I held still, afraid now to do anything that would make her pull away. Fantastic. My cock was pressing against the bottom of Mom's breasts and she continued to reminisce as if nothing was wrong. I felt myself swelling in excitement, causing my balls to press more firmly into Mom's stomach. As my cock unlimbered, it two pressed harder, but against the fullness of Mom's breasts.
As Mom continued her story, I moved my fingers down the sides of her face and began stroking the sides of her neck. Slowly, I extended my massage out to her shoulders, gently prying her shirt apart. My body tingled as I realized that Mom's shirt hadn't been buttoned right up, it had just been lying close together. The lapels parted to display the inner swells of her breasts.
"Mmmmmm, that feels nice," Mom murmured. She stopped speaking and I concentrated on making it feel as nice as I could. After many strokes, I ventured to push the shirt over the edge of Mom's left shoulder. As it fell away, I braced myself for a rebuke, or even just a flash of angry eyes, but all she did was purr softly again.
I pushed my fingers over the edge and traced a delicate line down the outside of Mom's upper arm, drawing an oval around and around, then back up and over her shoulder, dipping my fingertips into the hollow of her neck before proceeding outward again. This time, I pulled the shirt over her right shoulder too. As I tickled both upper arms, I dragged Mom's shirt lower until the lapels were almost cresting the edge of her swollen breasts. In fact, if it wasn't for her nipples, I would have bared Mom's tits.
I stroked and stroked. Mom began talking again but so quietly I couldn't make out the words. I hadn't been listening anyway. I had no idea what she'd been telling me. I pushed my balls forward until they rested between the bottom of Mom's tits. I had been pressing myself in there for awhile before I realized Mom had stopped talking. Her breath was too rapid to speak easily. Perhaps that's why she had stopped. I pushed my hands down to Mom's forearms, pushing the sleeves over her elbows and dragging the shirt over the final crest, baring a pair of stiff nipples.
I wanted to lean down and suck them into my mouth. What was stopping me? I leaned forward.
Then, as if in a echo chamber, the sound of Dad's door opening careened down the stairs.
OMG, I jerked off Mom and spun around to sit facing the TV. Mom was sitting up, frantically pulling the blanket up to cover herself from head to toe. I realized I was looking at a blank TV. Mom hadn't turned it on. In a panic, I tried to start the DVD but only managed to get the TV on by the time Dad rounded the corner in the stairs. He barely nodded on his way into the kitchen with his empty mug. There was time for me to belatedly realize I was sitting with a huge tent in my sweats. I froze in inaction as I heard Dad's footsteps returning to the living room. Mom saved the day, spreading the blanket out to cover my legs as well as hers. I drew up my knees, completing my concealment.
"That doesn't sound like a chick flick," Dad observed as he passed through the doorway.
I looked at the TV. Another war movie.
"That's 'A Bridge Too Far', not a chick flick," Dad said.
"We bet and I lost," Mom explained, sounding somehow very composed.
"Ah. I'm missing out on all the good stuff," Dad said. He sat down on the couch beside me, watching the movie intently. "It's half over," he lamented.
For the next few minutes we sat in silence, watching the movie. Now that my hardon had mostly subsided, I almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was with the remnants of a boner, sitting in front of my father, while my mother sat under a blanket beside me, shirt open and breasts bared, watching an old war movie. I bit down on my lip to contain myself and pinched my thigh, my hand brushing Mom's hip.
Mom's hand suddenly appeared over mine, her fingers curling over and squeezing mine. It was comforting under the cover of the blanket but then suddenly disconcerting when Mom pulled my hand towards her. She continued to tug and I realized I couldn't resist without drawing attention to ourselves, something I dare not do. I relented and allowed my hand to be drawn slowly onto Mom's leg, then up to the waist of her jeans. Thankfully, she stopped and held my hand there, in safe territory.
I glanced at Mom. Her face was tilting forward, chin pinching the blanket against her collar bone. I noticed movement under the blanket over Mom's tummy. She was doing something with her left hand but she stopped when Dad suddenly stood up and walked into the kitchen. His kettle had boiled.
Mom renewed the pressure on my hand, tugging it down, pushing it under her jeans onto her bare tummy. I resisted. I was shocked that she was trying to repeat the near disaster of the previous evening. Clearly, I now realized I had no need to apologize but we had been extremely luck not to get caught and I didn't want to repeat the terror of those moments. Why was Mom pushing it?
Dad returned and I quit struggling. Mom pushed my hand down and it easily slipped onto her panties just as Dad sat down beside me again. Mom's left hand reappeared outside the blanket to hold it up near her neck. I had plenty of room underneath the blanket. Mom had unbuttoned her jeans and pushed the zipper down. I easily positioned my fingers over her mound and let my long finger slip into her already damp groove. Dad slurped his tea behind me.
I held my hand still for some time, then wiggled it briefly and stopped. I knew it was a big tease but Mom deserved it. I was in control now and I wanted her to know. Nevertheless, as time went on, I succumbed and began reacting to her her gentle pressure, responding in kind. When I realized that I was just following the lead of her pulsing pussy, I decided to do something. Two can play this game, I thought. I can be a shock jock too.
I pulled my hand up, dragging my fingers over and away from Mom's damp panties. I could feel the tension in her body, the shock of separation. I waited a good thirty seconds, then pushed forward. I glanced at Mom in time to see a smile forming on her face but it changed to surprise when my fingers slipped under the elastic band of her panties and blazed a trail through her wet muff. I found the top of her groove and plowed through the furrow beyond, then pressed the length of my finger into her slit, parting her wet lips. I smiled smugly as I watched Mom biting her lips in a struggle for control.
Curling my finger, I inserted my fingertip into her hole and dug it inside. She was so wet I thought I heard an audible squish but of course it was only my imagination. I kept my finger plugged inside, wiggling, while I squeezed the others on both sides of her pussy lips. Take that, I thought in gleeful victory. I continued my ministrations until a glance warned me that Mom was in danger of losing control. Quickly, I pulled my finger out and withdrew my hand. This time, Mom made no attempt to stop me. She must have realized herself how close she was to losing it.
"I'd better get another cup," Dad's voice shattered my reverie. He was through the kitchen doorway before I interpreted his words, the shock of his presence was so great. It was as if he had spoken in slow motion but moved at the speed of sound. He returned a moment later with a full mug but only said goodnight as he wheeled away and up the stairs.
I turned to look at Mom. She was slumped against the pillows, eyes closed. I pulled the blanket off her chest and tossed it to the side. Her eyes remained closed as I pushed her shirt completely off her tits which were heaving with her ragged breath. I inserted my right hand under her panties and cupped her mound. Poising my finger at her entrance, I lowered my head toward the closest, stiff nipple and sucked it into my mouth hard as I plunged my finger into her lower mouth.
Mom gasped out loud. I pressed my hard cock against the side of her leg, stretching my leg atop hers. I started humping against her side as I fingered her, periodically switching tits but never stopping the plunging, twisting action of my fingers in her wet puss except to grind my palm down on her swollen lips.
It seemed like a long time but it was probably only a minute or two before Mom stiffened again and thrust herself hard against my fingers, her hand grasping mind and holding it still while she frantically fucked my fingers. I bit her nipple and she shuddered into the peak of her climax just as my seed spilled inside my sweats, soaking them through, the copiousness of my spend wetting the side of Mom's jeans.
Some time later, I raised my head and looked down at my mother. She was so beautiful, her face relaxed and peaceful, yet radiant. Her eyes were still closed. Looking at her, I wondered why I hadn't kissed her. Somehow, it had seemed that would have been a violation of an intimate boundary that I shouldn't cross. Now, given what had just happened, that seemed silly. I lowered my head toward Mom's face and her eyes opened. She looked surprised when she deduced my intention and shook her head, but I took possession of her lips anyway. She didn't resist, letting me kiss her, but was unresponsive. I pulled away. It was an awkward moment.
"I think we should call it a night, don't you?" Mom asked.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"You're a lot like ... him," she mumbled as we stood.
"Who? Donny?"
"Yeah," Mom replied. "He liked to push the limits, always searching for something new."
"You seem to like living on the edge too."
"Yes," Mom responded quietly. "And it used to get me into a lot of trouble."
"Like now?"
"I hope not. This has to stop Scott, before it goes any further."
"Ok, Mom. If that's what you want."
"It's not what I want, it's what has to happen."
"Ok." I knew better than to argue with Mom. She was normally a very soft and yielding person but you couldn't push her ever; it would only stiffen her resolve.
****
So was that it, then?
Not if I could help it. Stubborness aside, I had to push Mom now or it might be forever too late. Her old friend Jena would be here in a few days. I was positive that all of this had come about because Mom had been remembering the wild days of her youth and was inherently dissatisfied with where life had led her. She was a free spirit that had been stifled too long. She hadn't wanted what happened to happen but she got caught up in it and went with the flow. I needed that to happen again.
Mom obviously thrived on the danger of fooling around right under my father's nose, maybe because she thought he was to blame for losing her old life, whether true or not. But I couldn't quite believe that; it was too premeditated, too conniving, and my mother wasn't like that. No, it had been a spontaneous reaction to the unexpected, and the thrill of danger.
I couldn't think of any other situation I could get Mom in that would lead to the same result so I resolved to continue with the pictures and stories thing. I also decided to risk touching her when Dad was near. She might get mad but if she got off on it then the excitement might lead to another episode. I had to hurry. I had to move before Jena arrived in case Mom realized you can't relive the past and moved beyond it all. I needed to push Mom to the edge and see if she went over. I had to risk everything, win or lose.
I worked late the next day and when I got home from work Mom was in the kitchen. Dad was watching the news and I could see that he had already eaten. He looked grumpy and didn't respond when I said hi. I popped my head into the kitchen.
"Anything left to eat?"
"Yes, it's all ready. Sit down and I'll join you."
"You waited?"
"Of course," Mom smiled sweetly. "What mother wouldn't?"
I was surprised to see Mom wearing her tattered jeans and sneakers. The t-shirt and plaid shirt had been replaced by an old sweatshirt that was now too small, failing to reach the waistband of her jeans and leaving a three inch band of bare midriff. She looked very sexy. No wonder Dad had his mustache in a twist.
"Do I have time for a quick shower?"
"Uh huh."
I ran upstairs and showered in record time. In my room, I couldn't find any sweatpants so I pulled on a pair of old pajama bottoms and threw on a sweatshirt to match Mom. On the way downstairs, Dad looked up and grunted when he saw me, then turned back to the news. I sat in the kitchen and ate with Mom. Despite her cheery welcome, she didn't seem inclined to speak.
"Are you worrying about Jena's visit?"
Mom glanced at me and looked away. "Yes."
"Because you've both changed?"
Mom looked into my eyes. "Maybe, but I'm more afraid that we haven't." Her eyes misted. "Oh, we've gotten older," she waved her hand down over her body, "and I'm sure we're both oh-so-mature, on the outside. But inside, I think the spirit is still there, and it will be so good to see that, and so sad to watch it disappear, again."
I put my fork down and reached out to take Mom's hand.
"Maybe it doesn't have to disappear altogether. "Maybe it's just hidden and can come out when the time is right."
Mom pulled her hand away. "No, I don't think it can do that." She stood and started gathering the dishes.
I picked up my fork and finished eating while Mom scraped the plates, rinsed them and stacked the dishwasher. I loved seeing her in these old clothes she was so comfortable in. Why couldn't Dad just ease up? She wasn't hurting anything and so what if someone came over, or if she went out like that? Why couldn't he just give her some room to be happy?
I got up, rinsed my dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Mom filled put the soap in, closed the door and leaned over to start the cycle. I put my hands on her hips and felt her natural sway. Looking down, I remembered the extra fleshy cheeks with the little sag at the bottom and pressed myself into her. Mom stood up quickly.
"Scott!"
I folded my arms around her in a loose hug.
"I know, I know. I just couldn't help giving you a little hug."
"That wasn't a hug," she whispered harshly. "I told you that had to stop."
"Well, I guess down there thinks there's unfinished business, but up here I know it can't be so."
"That's right. We're finished with that silliness."
"Well, you've finished," I said.
Mom turned around in my arms and looked up into my eyes.
"Is that it? You think you didn't get to have your turn?"
I shrugged but didn't answer.
"You thought you'd rub yourself on my bum? With your father sitting right out there watching TV?"
I didn't answer and I tried to avoid Mom's eyes. I dropped my arms and tried to turn away but she grabbed my chin and turned my face to hers.
"Is that what you want to do? Cop a feel while my husband, your own father, is only fifteen feet away?" she whispered intensely.
I think Mom expected me to look away in shame. I'm sure she didn't expect what I actually did and, to be honest, neither did I. Something about the sudden excitement in her voice triggered me to act. I moved my hands up to her hips and slid them under her sweatshirt, grasping her bare tits firmly, fingers fitting around her meaty globes, then constricting until her nipples were clamped inside the curl of my index fingers. I tightened my fingers until Mom's mouth opened.
"Yes," I hissed. "That's exactly what I want to do, but I won't, because you don't want me to." I dropped my hands and turned away. I went to my room.
About an hour later, there was a knock on my door. It was Dad, mug of tea in his hand.
"Your mother wants you downstairs. Says you owe her a chick flick."
I looked up from my book, "I don't feel like it," I mumbled.
"You'd better go down. She says her friend is coming into town tomorrow and you owe her."
"I don't care."
"Come on, son. You know your mother. If she wants something, she's going to get it."
That was rich, coming from him. I got up. I knew he would pester me until I went downstairs. What the hell, Maybe Mom would let me fool around a bit one last time. Maybe my ploy in the kitchen had worked.
Mom was resting against the pillows. The blanket was bunched up on the floor on the far side of her legs. I took my usual seat beside her. A chick flick was already playing. Shit. Was this for real? Did she really just want me to watch a movie? I leaned over and looked for the box of pictures under the table. It wasn't there. Christ!
Mom patted the floor between us, urging me to sit closer. I shifted over. We watched the movie for about five minutes before Mom arched her back and stretched.
"Oh, I'm so stiff today. And tense. It must be because Jena's coming tomorrow."
"You should have brought the pictures down," I said. "It relaxes you."
"Yeah, but it does a little more than that, too. Doesn't it?"
"I guess," I admitted.
"You know what relaxes me?"
"What?" I asked.
"The way you tickle my face."
"You want me to do that for you?"
"Please." Mom closed her eyes and laid back.
I twisted around and started to stroke her forward. She opened her eyes.
"Come over me." She pulled my arm, urging me to straddle her legs. "You may as well get comfortable because I want you to do it for a long time."
I straddled Mom's legs and started my massage. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. Looking down at her sweatshirt, I remembered the feel of her breasts sagging onto my cock and balls, and the thrill of seeing those sexy tits when I pulled her shirt off her shoulders. I grunted. There was no way that was going to happen with this old sweatshirt.
Oh, well. I started tickling the sides of Mom's face. She sighed in response. A few minutes later I extended my strokes along her neck and the top of her shoulders. There was no way its neck was wide enough to pull it down. I sighed, resigned.
Mom sighed too and wriggled about, shifting herself down into the pillows. I paused for a second when I realized that her breasts were now pushing down onto my pajamas. Mom bumped my hand, urging me to keep tickling. I started again but my attention was focused on the bumps of her breasts nestling on my crotch. As my arms moved, my weight shifted, causing Mom's breasts to jostle about. I reacted, blood flowing into my genitals, swelling both cock and balls. Soon, I was quite hard.
Mom's arms had been lying on the floor beside her hips. She moved them up to rest her hands on the sides of her chest, just in front of my widely stretched thighs. They moved inward, pushing against the sides of her breasts, bunching them toward the middle and increasing the pressure on my swollen pajamas.
"That feels good," she murmured.
Mom pushed her hands closer together and her breasts trapped the bulge in my pajamas between them. I couldn't help pushing my hips forward to press more tightly into their soft caress. I hesitated, expecting a rebuke. It didn't come so I urged myself forward again. I repeated several more subtle nudges, then a few that weren't so subtle. Mom kept her breasts pressed firmly together. I began sawing back and forth, somehow remembering to keep tickling Mom's forehead, face and neck.
