Page 05
"Don't you think?" she asked after a long pause. "Warren?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah."
"You don't sound very convinced," Mom complained, lifting her left foot up and extending her leg, twisting it slightly and rolling her ankle while she examined it.
Was this a trap, to bring up the incident in the kitchen?
"Well?"
"It's very nice, I mean, compared to, ah…"
Mom ignored my floundering, dropped her foot back to the mattress, and resumed flipping through the magazine. The pain of expectancy was excruciating. Nevertheless, perhaps due to the detachment of the condemned, I took the opportunity to enjoy Mom's legs, enhanced by the glimmer of the sheer nylons. I followed their lines from her feet past her knees and down the six inches or so of thigh to the hem of the pleated, brown skirt. I followed its edge to the underside and noticed how Mom's leg thickened just a few inches above her knee as it transformed into her thigh, following an elongated 'S' curve that contrasted with the straight line on top. I knew the same curve would define the underside of the other thigh and that prompted me to think about what lay between. Again, I gave my head a mental shake.
"I'll read down here with you for a while if you don't mind."
What could I say? I couldn't very well ask her what this was all about but I suspected she was trying to lull me into an uncertain state before lowering the boom. I responded as casually as I could, "Go ahead," but my nerves were on a razor's edge.
As if I had a choice. I actually started to pick up the magazine I had been looking at before she came but realized that would uncover my unzipped jeans. Was that it? When my open shorts and the boner, which was still there I noted with despair, were uncovered the boom would come crashing down and the tantrum would begin. And that was probably why she had made a show of looking at her legs, to set me up. To make it worse, I noticed how her breasts formed nice, prominent lumps even when lying half-way onto her back.
My hand slipped sideways and picked up another magazine. I opened it to a page without pictures and pretended to read. Mom continued to browse through the magazine she was holding, then tossed it aside and picked up another one. That one was quickly discarded and she leaned toward the middle of the mattress to pick up another. When she resettled, I noticed that the skirt had slid farther up her thighs and now exposed eight or nine inches. The heavier part of Mom's thighs were more in evidence and the wide, thickened tops of her nylons were partly exposed.
What the hell was she doing? She was making me horny, for sure, but did she really think I'd fall for such an obvious trap? I looked at her thighs again. What if she wasn't trying to trick me. My cock throbbed.
Don't be stupid!
I tore my eyes away and concentrated on my own magazine. Except for a few small advertisements, the pages were full of text. I was in the middle of a story and my eyes focused on a paragraph in the middle of the left hand page.
Mom dropped her hand to the side of her leg and scratched, pulling the dress even higher up her thigh.
Oh my God. I had grabbed one of the magazines from my grandfather's table and they were obviously not just about guys wanting to get it on with their sisters. This was too much. My cock lurched and I raised the right edge of the magazine to make it harder for Mom to see what I was reading if she bothered to look. I cast my eyes around for another magazine but there weren't anymore between us. I would have to reach across Mom to get another and I couldn't discard this one in case she picked it up. I looked back at the magazine.
Mom leaned over to pick up her drink from the table at the end of the couch, using her right hand instead of her left, which forced her to twist more and lifted her thigh off the cushion. She took a long sip which let me bask in the underside of her left thigh, now bare right up to the panties plastered on her firm cheek. I noticed the bulbous outline of her pussy lips and groaned audibly.
I sucked in my breath and Mom looked at me.
"Good one?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No."
"Hmmph. They're not very realistic, are they?"
Before I could answer, Mom discarded her magazine over the edge of the mattress and leaned over to pick up another from the floor. Just like in the story I was reading, the underside of her thighs were immediately exposed. I could see above the tops of the sheer nylons and was surprised at the surge in my balls upon seeing the tender skin situated there. I couldn't see Mom's panties but then she suddenly lunged to reach something further away on the floor and the skirt skidded higher up her legs. For a few tantalizing seconds, as Mom retrieved the object of her search, a pair of dark brown, lacy panties burst into view. They were sumptuously triangular in shape and the bottom of Mom's buttocks bulged beyond their restrictive border.
Mom bounced back and settled lower into the pillows. The skirt, I was both overjoyed and frightened to see, had slid way up to expose the tops of the nylons, along with at least two inches of bare upper thigh. Mom's knees, previously locked tightly together, were now parted a few inches, which made her legs seem more like individuals than members of a pair. I noticed that she had a small mole on the inside of the right thigh above the stocking and wondered if others would be encountered before her legs joined. I thought about kissing it, then groaned inwardly and imagined the damp and primordial meeting place of her thighs.
You're losing it, asshole!
Oh Jeez. My rock hard cock throbbed beneath the arch of the magazine covering it. I jerked my eyes away from the space between Mom's open legs and desperately returned to the story, landing a few paragraphs further on.
Mom leaned over to take another drink and I let my hand drop to the cushion and slid it toward her. I glanced the other way to ensure that my aunt, sitting beside me, was still watching the TV. Bingo! She was snoozing. Beyond Mom, in the dining room, my father and uncle were playing crib. Mom put the drink on the table and settled into the couch, giving me a brief look but not saying anything. She glanced at my aunt and then looked at the dining room. I didn't do anything for a full minute after she started watching the TV again. Then, I wriggled my fingers.
Shit that was hot! I had never read anything like it and reading it while sitting next to my mother made me nervous and horny at the same time. Mom was flipping through yet another magazine, browsing more slowly because there no pictures in this one. I looked her over which was easier now because sinking into the pillows left her head below mine. The rise of her breasts, pressured by her more supine posture, swelled against the confines of the yellow blouse and the dark bra underneath. I was pleased that the blouse had parted sufficiently for Mom's ample breasts to spill part way out of the chocolate brown bra.
Surely the blouse hadn't been unbuttoned when Mom first arrived. I would have noticed that. The swells seemed to be trembling, or was that my imagination? I watched their rise and fall as I contemplated the surreal situation. Mom had discovered my hideaway and quietly joined me, reading the skin mags I was too afraid to squirrel away in my room in case she found them, and seemed to be leading me on. How bizarre was that?
So here I was, reading an incest story about a guy copping a feel from his mother while sitting next to my own mom. The top button or two of her blouse had mysteriously loosened and her skirt had ridden so high on her legs that her thighs were exposed well above the tops of her sheer stockings. And my poor defenseless cock was so hard it was threatening to pop above the waistband of my shorts and there was nothing I could do about it. I certainly couldn't reach under the magazine covering my lap to zip up my jeans.
And that was strange too. Why hadn't Mom mentioned the incriminating presence of the magazine covering my crotch? Why was I no longer afraid that the hammer of her wrath would come down on my head? Instead, I felt strangely confident that Mom wasn't going to give me shit, though I had no idea what was going to happen next, or how I could make it occur. And, what the fuck did I want to happen anyway? I had wanted to apologize for what I'd done in the kitchen but I was no longer sorry for that.
Mom flipped the page and became engrossed the words. I ducked my head sideways and tried to see which one she was reading. Was it some kind of romance, a true story kind of thing? I couldn't remember anything like that but I hadn't read all the mags I had gotten from Kent. I bent lower to take a look.
Holy shit! Mom was reading one of the issues from the bedside table: Strange Family Tales.
I lowered my head further until I could make out a few words. The word 'Mom' leapt off the page. JeSUS, it was a mom/son tale.
"Mom…"
"Sssst."
Mom lifted her left hand and reached up to put her extended index finger against my lips. I stopped trying to say anything but Mom kept her finger pressed against my lips in case I did. So I sat next to Mom with her finger pressed against my lips while she read a story about a son seducing his mother, or vice versa. My lips trembled and Mom must have thought I was about to speak again because she pressed her finger harder against my mouth, bending at the first knuckle sufficiently for the tip to slip between my lips. How ironic that it was now Mom implicitly telling me to 'shut the fuck up'.
The thought made me chuckle and the movement pushed my lips against Mom's finger which inserted far enough into my mouth for the tip to scrape past my teeth and onto the tip of my tongue. I closed my lips and gently sucked her finger. Captivated by the story she was reading, Mom didn't notice so I nibbled, cautiously working her finger deeper into my mouth. When she reached the end of the page she deftly used the fingers of her right hand to change it and that was the only acknowledgement that her left was committed to another task.
Encouraged that Mom had either tacitly accepted or was oblivious to what was happening I turned slightly toward her and let the finger slip all the way into my mouth. Afraid she would suddenly realize, if she wan't aware, where her finger actually was and then pull it out, I held very still. When nothing happened, I sucked gently, sliding my tonue along it's entire length.
Taking a page out of the story I had been reading, I shifted my right hand along the mattress until it contacted Mom's hip. At first she didn't react but then leaned forward, evidently thinking I wanted to put my arm around her. Unfortunately, Mom's finger slipped out of my mouth when I put my arm around her shoulder and she shifted toward me until we were sitting right next to each other. I pulled the pillows over and Mom settled back, her eyes never having left the story she was reading.
I was content for a bit to maintain the status quo but the nearness of my hand, draped across Mom's shoulder and hovering over her breasts, was too tempting. I brushed my own fingertips against the side of Mom's neck and then let it dangle over her breasts. I watched, fascinated, as my fingertips skimmed a fraction of an inch over the open lapel of Mom's blouse, almost touching the upper swells of her breasts. I remembered the brief grip I had once had on the left one and dipped my hand towards it.
Mom caught my hand just as my fingertips made contact with her flesh. She twisted it up and pushed it away, bringing my fingers back into contact with her neck. Properly chastised, I rubbed her neck and jaw for a minute but wasn't satisfied to leave it at that. Slowly, I edged my fingers toward the corner of Mom's mouth, worked it into the crease, and finally popped it through until the first knuckle was embedded just as Mom's had been in mine a few minutes earlier.
Mom didn't object to my finger's presence, perhaps because it was safer to let it explore her mouth than delve into her bodice. I think I had pegged it right that she wanted to continue reading the story and was therefore open to allowing me a little playful leeway, though probably not as much as I'd taken in the kitchen. She even nibbled my finger and used her tongue to play with the tip.
Tiring of watching Mom read, I turned my attention to her legs. Her knees were still drawn up but the magazine obscured my view of her upper legs. The skirt, I noted, had fallen almost to her lap which made the obstructing magazine all the more annoying.
I turned more toward Mom to make it easier to look at her. The magazine I had been reading fell off my stomach. I tried to retrieve it with my left hand but instead let it drop to the mattress beside Mom's thigh. I let it lie there for a moment and then, as in the story, pushed until it was underneath Mom's leg. I waited until she turned to a new page and became re-engrossed in the story before lifting up until my fingers touched the underside of her thigh. I held still, waiting for a negative response. Her eyes seemed to narrow but couldn't be sure, it happened so fast. Other than that, there was no reaction except her mouth clamped firmly around my finger. Though I didn't move I maintained contact with Mom's thigh.
It was several minutes before I traced my finger in a line up the underside of her thigh. When Mom didn't protest, or even react, I wiggled my finger inside her mouth. Thrilled by the lack of any rebuke, I moved my fingertips more freely up and down the underside of Mom's thigh and even slipped it over to the other one.
It was too hard to believe that Mom wasn't aware of my touch so she had to be allowing it. Confident that I had permission, I moved freely back and forth from one thigh to the other and even dipped my fingers low enough to tickle across the fleshy part of her legs only an inch from the bottom of her panties.
I hunched closer and that prompted her to put her hand on my arm just below the elbow and pinched it which I took as signal not to go any further. I held still until her fingers relaxed and was amazed she didn't pull my hand away because it had stopped, fortuitously and not by plan, with my fingertips resting on her panties.
"You're right, Mom," I whispered. "None of the women in those pictures have legs as nice as yours."
Mom's fingers tightened on my arm.
"Or anything else, for that matter."
Mom pinched my arm tighter, as if sensing that I was trying to soften her up before resuming my inappropriate caress and warning me not to try. That's when I went for broke, gambling that Mom was caught up in something she couldn't control, just as I had been in the kitchen, and as I was now. I hoped she was near enough to the cusp to slide over to the downhill side.
"But only your son should know that."
Nothing happened right away but, gradually, the pressure in Mom's clenched fingers relaxed and her hand eventually fell off my arm. Tentatively, I resumed the tickling caress over the bottom of her thighs and, holding my breath, even let my fingertips brush fleetingly across her panties. After a tense moment, Mom flipped the page as if nothing untoward was happening.
I slipped my finger from Mom's mouth and crooked my arm further around her neck, giving my right hand enough leeway to reach into the divide between her breasts. My fingers pushed her blouse apart and moved between the inner swells, much as the fingers of my left hand were moving from thigh to thigh. I wanted to reach further so I could completely grasp one of her tits so I leaned toward her and kissed the side of her head, my lips brushing her ear. At that precise moment, I let my dangling fingers press against Mom's panties.
I stayed rigidly still, hypersensitive to the tension in Mom's limbs. Although we were both intensely aware of what I had done, neither of us moved. I couldn't see her eyes but, with my lips pressed against her head, I could feel her thinking. Time passed and still nothing happened. Slowly, very slowly, the tension in our bodies dissipated and we started to breathe again, quietly but with an undercurrent of excitement evident in our breath. I didn't move my fingers, fearful that the recently gained precious territory would be lost. The heat emanating from Mom's panties onto my fingers made me want to wiggle them but I kept them glued in place. Her panties were warm, soft, and kind of dampish, and something beneath quivered under my fingers.
My cock hardened to the breaking point and popped through the waistband of my shorts. The magazine covering the open state of my jeans had fallen off. I looked down to confirm my exposure and noted that my cock was indeed protruding through my shorts and nothing was covering it. All Mom had to do was lift her eyes from her story to see what she had done to my cock.
Mom's hand was lying limply on the mattress between us, very near the tip of my cock. As I watched, it moved, fingers trembling, but moving, slowly, inexorably, toward my manhood. Mesmerized, I followed its excruciatingly slow advance until it passed in front of my cock, a fraction of an inch away, but not touching, just as my left hand had earlier approached the juncture between Mom's legs but hadn't touched her skin.
I waited to see if she would make the final leap as I had done but she moved on. Disappointment constricted my stomach but then I lurched forward as the soft palm of Mom's hand suddenly closed the distance and rubbed across the bottom of my cock. I sucked my breath in hard as her fingers, still moist with my saliva, closed around my tip and groaned my pleasure. As soon as the sound escaped my lips Mom's hand jerked away. She sat up straight, pulled herself away from my fingers and pushed my right out of her blouse.
"The oven. I forgot the oven," she cried.
She got up on her knees and, with her back to me, buttoned her blouse. Then, she stood, started away to walk away but stopped. Turning, she leaned down to pick up the magazine she had been reading.
"Don't stay too long," she said. "Your father will be going to bed soon and you should be in your room before then."
With that, Mom walked briskly to the end of the room and passed through the narrow exit. She took the time to push the bookshelf back into place and I was left alone in the hideaway. My hand found my aching cock and I started relieving myself.
Mom had held my cock!
And tonight, probably in her bed beside Dad, she would read the magazine about a son seducing and fucking his mother.
****
"Nurse Carver?"
I was sweating, tried to get up but fell back into the pillow. Muffled footsteps hurried toward my room.
"Nurse Carver?"
"I'm here," she called, voice hushed but sounding urgent to let me know she would arrive soon. She burst through the almost closed door, sat on the edge of the bed, and took my hand. Immediately, relief swept over me.
"You've been dreaming a lot tonight," she said. "I almost woke you but sometimes it's best to let people get through these things."
"Kind of like an exorcism?"
She laughed. "Kinda."
"Do you think I've banished all my demons now?"
I was surprised when she didn't laugh.
"I think you miss someone very much."
"Yes. Evidently, my mother."
"Yes, your mother. You had a special relationship?"
"We were close."
"You said some things, Warren."
She tilted her head toward the door as if to explain why it had been almost shut but I was more intrigued that she had called me by my first name for a second time.
"Did I, Sharon?"
She was surprised. "You think that's my first name?"
