Page 05
"You don't need an army," Dad chipped in. "Man to man, that's the way to did it. Just the Coopers and the Johnsons. Been done before and there ain't no Johnson can beat a Cooper, any day."
"John!"
"Just saying," Dad sat back in his chair, holding his hands up.
I had forgot that Dad knew the Johnson's father. They had been rivals in school.
"We'll handle it ourselves, Dad," I said. "Right, Gordie?"
"Yeah, right Stan."
Mom pushed her chair back and got up. She left the dining room and went upstairs. After she had gone, Dad said, "Best not talk about this anymore, boys."
It was Thursday so Gordie had to do the dishes by himself. I had second thoughts about our deal. It was supposed to make me look stronger and win Mom's favors but standing up for myself for real seemed to have had the opposite effect. I offered to help with the dishes but Gordie declined, saying, "A deal's a deal."
So I went upstairs figuring if Mom was that upset it might calm her down if I said I would back down from the Johnsons. Her door was shut.
I knocked lightly and called softly, "Mom?" but there was no answer.
Maybe it would be better to talk to her later. I went to my own room and sat at my desk. A game was ready to play but I stared vacantly at the screen, worrying about what would happen with Mom. If I couldn't figure out what she wanted me to do I might have to do without even though it was plain she like what we were doing as much as I did.
Mom was inside my room before I could turn to answer the knock. She was already past the end of the bed and starting to sit down when I turned around, first the wrong way to look at the door, and then swiveling around to face the bed.
I could hardly believe my eyes. Mom had sat on the far side of the bed, as usual. I waited for her head to turn to the left and tilt down in her permissive signature but she just stared at the wall. I waited, and waited. She didn't tilt her head, nor did she loosen her dress. She just sat there. I waited some more, trying to raise the courage to go to her but I was afraid of being rejected.
Mom raised her right hand to her face and dabbed it with a tissue, then returned it to her lap. She was crying. I went to the bed then and kneeled behind her ready to assure her that I wouldn't fight the Johnsons.
"Mom?"
She waved me off with a flick of her right arm and a shrug of her shoulder but I persisted, putting my hands on her shoulders for comfort. At that moment, that's all I wanted to do.
"It'll be okay. Everything's been blown way out of proportion. Don't worry, nothing will happen."
Mom sniffled and waved her hand.
"I won't push it," I comforted her. "Nobody's going to get hurt."
We sat like that for a couple of minutes.
Mom sniffed and said, "No, I know you have to do it, Stan. I just wish you didn't have to, that's all."
That was a surprise. Now I was supposed to fight again. I switched gears.
"Like you said. If I stand up for myself, once it's over, they'll leave me alone—one way or the other."
"I did say that, didn't I?"
I didn't answer. Mom sniffed and dabbed her eyes again.
"I'm sorry I pushed you, Stan. I didn't expect everythign to happen so fast."
There was a statement that had multiple levels of meaning. I had to agree.
"Maybe you aren't ready yet."
"I'm ready Mom," I assured her. "It's time."
My hands dropped from Mom's shoulders to her waist. Until then, my thoughts had been purely platonic but she was feeling more relaxed and the warmth and softness of her body, together with the fragrance of her hair, were getting to me. I felt a stirring in my loins.
"I guess I did encourage you, didn't I?"
She meant to fight, to stand up for myself, but I read it as the method she had used to get me to do what she wanted and considered her question an invitation to touch her.
"I shouldn't have," she added.
"I wanted you to," I responded, my voice thick and heavy. She knew what I meant.
My hands slid down to Mom's hip and my fingers started grasped the sides of her dress. Mom took a deep breath and sighed.
"It's my fault things went so far and now it's come to this."
"We're in it together," I said, pulling my hands back and dragging Mom's dress up her thighs a couple of inches.
She looked down at her legs. "I guess we are, aren't we?"
"Yes," I replied hoarsely, pulling the dress up several inches until it was stuck.
Mom sighed and lifted her weight from the bed one buttock at a time, her right shoulder rising and catching me under my neck as I leaned over her. The dress pulled out from under her bottom. She pulled her hands from her lap, dragging the hem of the dress with them until the tops of her pantyhose were exposed. They were very sheer and the black panties underneath were plain to see, at least the bit of them I could see before they disappeared between her closed legs.
"I shouldn't have encouraged you as much as I did."
"Yes, you should have." My breath was ragged, clearly revealing my excitement. "I wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't, and anyway, it was time for me to grow up," I said, desperate to keep Mom thinking her special encouragement was crucial and still needed.
I put my hands on Mom's thighs and pulled. They parted easily.
"I suppose so," Mom muttered, watching me open her legs.
"You made me think like a man," I whispered.
"Did I?"
"Yes," I replied, sounding more like a croak than a word.
The black panties swam into full view as they became more prominent the wider Mom's legs parted. We both stared at her open crotch. I didn't take hold of her breasts or unzip her dress. I simply gazed at her open legs and ejoyed the sight of her panties under the hose. It was like we were watching a strange organism that had a life of its own. Long seconds passed, maybe even a minute or more, until Mom's soft voice pierced the silence.
"Do you need to touch it?" Mom asked.
"Yessss."
"Okay." It was barely a murmur.
Slowly, I slid my right hand between Mom's legs until it cupped her hosed and pantied pussy. Her head drew back and fell to the left. I moved my hand up to support it and wrapped my fingers gently around her throat. I couldn't see but I knew she had finally closed her eyes. I squeezed her mound and massaged rather than rubbed her pussy. Mom made a quiet sound, not a moan, but more like a purr. I rubbed, and rubbed.
We sat like that for some time with me hanging awkwardly over Mom's right shoulder, arm reaching around her waist to rub between her legs. Mom didn't react to my touch other than leaning back and occasionally repeating that purring sound but after about five minutes her pelvis started to move in time with my squeezes. That's when I centered my long finger over the faint groove I could feel through the hose and started scratching along its length.
Soon, I discovered the beginning of a hole. I didn't know if my scratching had made it or if it had already been there. It would have been strange for another pair of Mom's pantyhose to have a hole in the same spot but I hadn't been pressing hard and my finger hadn't caught in anything. Could she have started it herself?
I pushed the tip of my finger in the little hole and began worrying it, hoping it would tear open like the other pair had done but, though more sheer, this pair was stronger. That excited me because I was sure it meant Mom had indeed started the hole. I squirreled my finger round and round but the hose didn't rip apart. The hole did grow larger though and my finger soon slipped easily through and started to rub Mom's panties which had become very damp.
Mom was almost limp, sagging over my left arm. She was purring more often and her hips moved constantly against my finger which was now embedded full time in the groove lining her panties. I leaned back, easing her back on the bed. Her legs lifted as she fell back, providing me with wide open access to massage her panties through the penetrated hose.
Mom was lying with her head turned to the side away from me, eyes closed. I undid my belt and slipped my zipper down as quietly as I could, finding it quite awkward to do with my left hand. It was even more difficult to push my pants down without Mom knowing what I was doing but then I realized that of course she knew what I was doing. Still, I tried not to be obvious.
I arranged myself between Mom's legs and her knees widened to accommodate me. I tried to pull her pantyhose down while keeping my right engaged but Mom's hands slid down to stop me. Ah, well. I shifted on top of her and replaced my hand with my cock and balls, immediately wishing I had pushed my shorts right off. Maybe she wouldn't have stopped me this time. After all, we seemed to progress a little further every time which was maybe why she usually stayed away for days.
I started dry humping Mom and like before she soon became an active partner. I didn't have a tit to suck and wished I had taken her dress off before pulling her back onto the bed but rubbed her breasts through the dress and tried without success to unzip it.
Mom really started getting into it and I wished again that I had pushed my shorts all the way down to bare my cock. Well, why not? I dropped my hands down to my shorts and Mom gasped when my weight slumped fully onto her chest. I think she was so relieved when I lifted myself off her that she didn't realize I had shoved my shorts down and it was now my bare cock that was rubbing on her pantyhose. These sheer ones were more slippery than the others and felt great, especially with a hot, spongy pussy underneath scraping along the underside of my cock.
I reached underneath with my right hand and grabbed my cock so I could keep it right in the center of her pussy because it seemed that Mom responded better when it slid along her groove. I had been doing that for fifteen or twenty long rubs when all of a sudden I was stopped in mid-stroke. I pushed against heavy resistance, then again and again, before popping through something.
Mom had reacted almost in panic to my missed strokes. Her arms encircled my waist, pulling me back on track. She was quite unaware, as was I until I looked, that my cock had breached the hole in her pantyhose and was now sliding over her groove directly on Mom's wet panties.
Mom became very rambunctious, especially when my cock levered too low and the head mashed into her panties before skidding through her wet groove. Soon, I learned to direct it into that part of her panties every time so it burst on the bottom of her pussy with a thud before scraping through the groove. Mom's purring turned into a soft, constant moan.
I found the zipper underneath Mom's dress and yanked it down, breaking the hook that kept it together behind her neck. Frantically, I dragged the dress off her shoulders and tore the slip apart to bare Mom's tits. I grabbed one in each hand and squeezed, mashing them agains her chest.
Mom pulled her legs way back and hooked her feet behind me, using her heels to thrust herself harder against my cock. I squeezed her tits hard, forcing her nipples to stand up, then dropped my mouth onto the right one and sucked hard. We writhed against each other furiously, grinding and sucking, gasping and moaning, until we both came. As Mom clasped me tight, I spewed my cum all over her panties and belly.
It was a long time before we recovered enough to breathe normally and we stayed together for some time after that, neither speaking, but both reluctant to part. Finally, Mom indicated with a twist and small push that she wanted to leave. She got up, walked around the bed, and started toward the door with her dress still unzipped. I caught her and zipped it up, trying to hook it at the top before realizing that I had broken it. Before she could leave I hugged her from behind, buried my face in the crook of her neck and told her I loved her.
She raised a hand to pat my head and said, "Be careful tomorrow."
"I will," I said, then added, "I'll probably lose," and immediately regretted saying it.
Mom spun around in my arms and looked up at me. "I'll be here for you." She lifted herself onto her tippy toes and kissed me lightly on the mouth, then turned to listen at the door, opened it and exited the room.
I was on cloud nine. All I had to do was face the Johnsons. My biggest fear wasn't getting my ass kicked, it was Mom not being there to help me and now she said she would be.
But what if I won? Would there me any reason for more 'encouragement' if I won?
*****
The next week the Johnsons didn't do anything. Teachers were on the alert at school, having got wind of the pending fight, so maybe they were lying low. Gordie did the dishes on Tuesday and Thursday though our deal was finished so I paid him another fifty. He even cleaned his room. I guess he wanted to be sure of my support. I felt good, thinking that Gordie thought I could contribute something.
The only problem with the Johnsons not doing anything was that Mom wasn't doing anything either. I was seriously considering asking Gordie and his buddies to push things but knew they would rather avoid a confrontation if they could. I couldn't think of a way to start things on my own, at least, not with them around to help me.
At breakfast on Saturday, he asked if I wanted to help him and Dad with the GTO.
"Stan is going driving with me," Mom interjected.
"Driving?" Dad said, looking at Mom. "Where?"
"He wants to learn how," Mom replied.
"Really? Well, I can take him on Sunday if he likes."
"No," Mom said. "He wants to borrow the station wagon sometimes so he may as well learn on it."
"He can use the truck," Dad said.
"The wagon's fine, Dad. But thanks."
"Suit yourself, son."
After breakfast, I followed Mom to her car and got in. The whole driving thing was news to me. Mom was wearing a light blue and white checked summer dress with a wide and loose skirt which wasn't quite warm enough for early spring which probably explained the loosely knit white cardigan sweather she was wearing over the dress and the white leotards underneath.
Before Mom got in the car she removed the sweater and that simple act provided another explanation for its use. The top of the dress was a wrap style with one lapel overlapping the other. It emphasized the shape of her breasts, especially the hanging quality I loved, and occasionally tossed hints of what was covered when the lapels gapped as she moved. It looked like something that held the lapels together was missing or broken.
As Mom backed out of the driveway, I said, "I don't have a permit, Mom."
"Doesn't matter. We're going to an old back road in the country. There won't be anyone there."
We drove west of town, turning onto progressively smaller roads until we were driving slowly along a rural farm road. Mom had turned the radio up so we listened to music instead of talking. I admired what I could see of Mom's legs which was only about a foot above her ankles. Still, they had a nice shape that the white leotards didn't hide. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen Mom without pantyhose and wondered if she had run out of pantyhose, at least, ones that weren't ripped. I also wondered if there was a little hole in an appropriate spot in the white leotards. I wished we had stayed home and she had come up to my room while Gordie and Dad worked on the car. Now that would have been fun.
Mom turned onto an access road to a field. She got out and opened the gate then drove through it and stopped, got out again to pull the barbed wire gate closed, and hooked the loop attached to the post over it to hold it in place. I felt kind of useless and wondered why she hadn't asked me to open the gate. Back in the car, we continued on our way which surprised me. Now that we were on private land, I thought she would want me to drive.
Mom drove through the field and into the trees on the other side. The rode wound its way up through a small, wooded hill, presumably toward another field or a farmhouse. We topped the crest and then Mom turned the car around and pulled off the road and stopped. We were facing the trees but behind us there was a nice view of the next field a few hundred feet below. It seemed odd that she hadn't pulled off when we were facing the other way so we could look at the view without craning our necks around to look out the back window.
Mom turned off the engine. I was about to get out, thinking she wanted to switch places now, when she spoke.
"Nothing happened at school this week?"
"No. We were ready but they didn't do anything."
"They're waiting to pick the time and place."
"Yeah, I know. The teachers think there's something up so they're lying low."
"You need to take it to them."
"Take it to them?"
"Yes. Don't let them pick when or where. If you catch them off guard, it will rattle them and give you an advantage."
That made sense.
"Can you do that?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Will you?"
"I'll talk to Gordie about it."
"You don't need to talk to Gordie."
"No, I guess I don't."
"Good."
"Do you want me to drive now?"
"Drive?"
"Yeah, that's what we're here for, isn't it?"
"Yes, of course," Mom said, but I knew she had been caught off guard by my question.
She opened her door and got out. I did the same and we met behind the car.
"Look at that view," Mom exclaimed. "Isn't it beautiful?"
I turned to look. It was just a field with a couple of cows on it. "Yeah, I guess so."
"I made us a lunch. Why don't we enjoy the view while we eat."
Mom turned the key in lock and the rear window slid down. Then she opened and lowered the wagon's gate. It was early for lunch given we had finished breakfast not much more than an hour ago but what the hey, I could always eat.
Mom reached inside and dragged a picnic basket onto the gate which I opened while she crawled into the back of the wagon to get something else. I sat on the gate and got a sandwich out and a bottle of orange juice while Mom fussed with something behind me. It was a great sandwich, a BLT, one of my favorites.
"This is awesome, Mom," I mumbled through a mouthful of food. I tilted the orange juice up and was taking a swig as I turned to look back at Mom. I almost spit it out and didn't start what I was about to say. In fact, I couldn't remember what it was I was going to say.
She was lowering the back seat, lying on her side as she stretched out to push it flat. The effort caused the muscles in her legs to tense, nicely defining their shape up to her knees since the skirt had ridden up her calves. There just wasn't any part of Mom that wasn't nice to look at.
As soon as the rear seat was down, Mom started spreading out a thick comforter and placed two pillows against back of the front seat. From their position, I surmised she intended to lean against them while she enjoyed the view, which explained why she had turned the car around. But why not sit on the tailgate? It wasn't that cold, especially in the warmth of the sunshine.
Mom finished spreading the comforter and then stretched out on her stomach. She pulled a pillow away from the back of the front seat and laid her head on it. I had thought she was going to look at the view and here she was taking a nap. That was okay with me because rather than looking at the view, she was providing one, for me.
The hem of Mom's dress stretched across the back of her knees though it fell halfway down her calves when she was standing. Her sandals were neatly placed in the back corner on the driver's side and I noted that the bottoms of her stocking feet her pure white. The leotards must be brand new.
I suddenly lost my appetite, at least for food. I looked at my sandwich which was about two thirds gone, then looked at the bush and was about to throw it away but stopped because Mom wouldn't want me to waste food. I looked back at Mom in the back of the wagon and followed her legs to the rise of her behind and then to the chestnut brown hair that covered part of her face. Was she napping or waiting, like she did when she came into my room and sat on the bed?
