Page 05
My father, I was certain, didn't know how to fuck this woman. I was positive that was the first time she'd ever been eaten. I shuffled up to Mom's head, pushing my pajamas down. I had been ready to just go upstairs and jack off but that open, inviting mouth reminded me about my thoughts the night before. I needed to push Mom over the edge, to break her free of the constraints holding her in her strict, prudish life.
Lying on my side in front of Mom's head, I flipped the jockstrap down and freed my raging boner. Holding it with my right hand, I put my left behind Mom's head and pulled it onto my cock, quickly inserting a couple of inches before she could close her mouth. Mom's eyes flew open in shock as I began moving in her virgin mouth, perhaps the first cock it had ever tasted.
She struggled at first but she couldn't break my hold and then she just seemed to accept it, letting me push in an out, fucking her face, while she looked up at me. She never looked away. She watched me the whole time I fucked her mouth, right up to the second I unloaded on her tonsils, gagging and gurgling as she struggled to swallow my load. When I was done, I pulled my cock out until the tip was on her lips, moving it around until she began licking it, swirling her tongue all around the head to clean it off, letting me push it back into her mouth a few times to squeeze out a few remaining drops.
I pulled the jockstrap over me, got onto my knees and then stood up, pulling my pajamas up. Mom raised her hand and I pulled her up, stooping to grab her pajamas and pull them up over her hips before she could do it herself. Then I kissed her, catching her by surprise.
"Think about this tonight and let me know tomorrow if the recital is still on."
I turned and walked away.
Lost and Found
I was pretty cocky the next day. The more I thought about things, the more I convinced myself that I had been right about Mom. It wasn't all about the recital. She had always used her allure and favors to accomplish her goals but she also got off on it and learned to like it, rationalizing her own behavior as necessary because she was too proper to want wild sex. But when pushed near the edge, she had the potential to leap far beyond. Last night had confirmed my theory.
I worked through lunch the next day and rushed home a half hour earlier than usual to give me extra time alone with Mom before Dad arrived. Mom was surprised to see me, and then again, perhaps not so surprised.
As with the last time, she was in the kitchen slicing vegetables for a salad. I surprised her and she whirled around, paring knife in hand, looking frightened, then relieved and pleased. I was just happy to see that Mom was following her new braless-around-the-household routine and that, at least while she was alone, a pair of buttons were deemed sufficient to keep her shirt together and allowed maximal access for cooling air.
And her son's hands. As I strode toward Mom, she lifted her arms for the hug she could see coming. I slipped my left arm around her waist and my right hand slickly inside her blouse to firmly grasp her tit. I smothered Mom's protest with my lips and soon slipped my tongue in her mouth. It was a long kiss. I wanted time to work on Mom's breast to get past the anger I detected in her brief protest before my mouth covered hers, time for her body to react and override her mind. My cock was tingling with excitement and so was my brain when I realized Mom's body was reacting as I hoped, so when I felt Mom's nipple poking hard into my palm, I released her and gulped in much needed air.
CRACK!
I reeled back, stunned. Mom's right arm was swinging back from what must have been a full swing right cross, open-hand slap across my face which stung like hell.
"Don't you ever grab me like that again! Do you hear me?", Mom screamed.
I yanked my head up and down.
"I want you to do that recital, and I'm willing to reward you for it, but it's something that I give, not something you take. Do you understand?"
I nodded.
"I can't hear you."
"Yeah. I mean, Yes, Mom."
"Alright. Now run along and make yourself scarce until your father comes home."
I was shocked but by the time I got to my room, I was angry. To hell with her stupid recital, I thought. I started a shoot-em-up game on my computer and took out my frustration until I was called down for supper. Mom was wearing the same blouse but three more buttons were now secured. Still, the movement of her breasts under the blouse was like an electric magnet to my eyes. For some reason, her recent rebuke made her seem incredibly desirable. I was happy when Dad asked if Mom minded if he ate his dessert in the living room while he watched the news. I stayed in the kitchen with Mom.
"Did you want to practice tonight?" Mom asked, slicing a piece of pie for me and one for her.
"Yeah, that would be great, Mom."
"So, the recital's still on then?"
"Definitely. Why wouldn't it be?"
"That's good," Mom replied. "I don't know. For some reason I wasn't sure."
Mom put the pie slices on a couple of plates and brought them to the table but she didn't set them down.
"Boy, it's been really hot here today," she said, glancing toward the living room where the sound of the evening news drifted down the hallway toward us. "Do you think you can help me with something before we have our dessert."
"Sure Mom," I answered, eager to make up for my transgression this afternoon.
Mom leaned forward, holding the pie plates out to her sides.
"Can you loosen my blouse for me," she lowered her voice, "to give me a little air."
What a reversal. Though taken completely by surprise, I nevertheless lifted my hands to her blouse with only the slightest delay. Shock may have registered on my face because Mom had a smug smile on her face. I didn't care. She was asking me to undo her blouse and that's all that mattered. One button, two. She made no move to stop me, waiting patiently while I stared at her expanding cleavage as if I'd never seen it before. I slipped a third button loose.
"Can you adjust them so they get more air," Mom asked. "My hands are full."
I slipped both hands tentatively inside, fingers slipping under the round bottoms of her breasts, lifting and separating her tits.
"That's it, like that," Mom whispered.
She set her pie down and then reached under my arms to put mine in front of me. I couldn't help taking the opportunity as her breasts dipped to slide my thumbs over to flick her distended nipples. I braced myself for another slap.
"That was little bratty, Jon," Mom said, raising her right hand. "Do you think it was worth it?"
I cringed. Mom's hand closed on my head, but slowly.
Grasping a handful of my hair, Mom pulled my head toward her and pulled her blouse apart with the other.
"Suck it, you bad boy," Mom hissed, lifting her left breast and feeding her long nipple into my mouth.
I sucked her nipple in hard but she still pushed her tit into my face and pulled on my head, her hand working it around in a circle around her breast. For at least a minute, Mom ground my head on her tit, then suddenly pulled her tit away and yanked my head back.
"That's better," she said, sitting down. She carved off a piece of pie with the edge of her fork and raised it to her mouth, smiling sweetly at me before slipping it into her mouth, tongue extending to receive it.
Fuck I was hard. I was panting and my boner felt like it was going to break.
"Eat your pie, sweetie," Mom said.
I picked up my fork and put a piece into my mouth, looking at Mom's breasts heaving under the partially closed but still unbuttoned blouse. Mom looked down at her ample bosom.
"Oh, yes," she said, putting her fork down. Mom grasped her blouse in both hands and pulled it apart, tucking it back beside her breasts, then resumed eating her dessert, bare tits jutting out, capped by stiff nipples.
"Don't you like your dessert?" Mom asked, since I wasn't eating. "I thought it was your favorite."
I put a piece of pie in my mouth.
"Don't you like your pie like this?" Mom sucked another piece in on her extended lips and smacked her lips, "Mmmmmmm."
She turned slightly toward me as if to show me something, jutting her left tit out. It was sparkly wet, covered in my saliva.
"I love dessert, too," Mom said, "but you can't have it all the time. Right?"
I shook my head.
"Should we practice especially hard tonight?" Mom put extra emphasis on 'hard'.
I nodded enthusiastically, hopefully.
Mom prepared a hot toddy for Dad and asked me to take it to him while she got changed for practice. I had already changed into my pajamas and lied to my Dad when he asked, on seeing me in my pajamas, if I had remembered my jockstrap.
I was surprised to see Mom descending the stairs in a fancy dress with a tight bodice and bare shoulders and a full, generous and loosely pleated skirt. Smiling, she walked past me to talk to Dad. I craned my neck to hear her words since she was speaking so quietly.
"Drew, I'm going to do a full dress rehearsal, to get in the mood. Please don't interrupt us until we're finished. Ok?"
"Ok, dear. You look beautiful in that dress."
"Thank you, honey," Mom replied, twirling in front of Dad. She started toward me but then spun around and walked to the open bookcase against the far wall. She closed the glass door and returned to the piano. Shit. I had purposely left the door open so Dad couldn't look up and see us in the reflection from the glass. Didn't Mom realize that Dad might be able to see us?
I leaned back to let Mom sit down and my worry dissipated, my groin flushing with oxygenated blood as she spread her skirt to her sides over my legs and didn't sweep it underneath herself. She began to play.
I was quickly disappointed when I realized that the tight bodice of Mom's dress prevented me from getting my hands underneath to play with her bare breasts. I much preferred a skirt and blouse. If she hadn't closed the bookcase, I could have fondled her without worry. With a shrug, I slipped my hands under the billowy skirt to rest my hands on Mom's hips, bare except for the narrow band of her panties. I slid my hands slowly up and down her legs, gradually working my way further inward on each backward pull. The loose skirt offered no resistance and I was soon running my fingers up and down deep inside Mom's thighs.
Mom played without missing a single beat. She turned her head to smile at me so I knew she didn't object to my long, stroking caresses. This was to be a reward practice and my cock leapt in my pajamas at the thought. In confirmation, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking, Mom arched her back after turning to face the piano again, twisting her ass up and toward me. Quickly, I shoved my hips forward to reap the reward of her more open and inviting ass, my stiffening cock lodging between her covered cheeks.
Under the pretense of pulling Mom closer, as if I had to pretend, I tried to get my fingers onto the front of her panties but her legs were a little too close together. Magically, they parted, allowing me easy access. I let my fingers stay on her panties, gleefully but delicately rubbing the silky material. Minutes later, I was pleasantly surprised when she didn't object to my prying fingers as they dug into her soft belly to slip under the waistband of her panties. Seconds later, the tips of my index fingers were running up and down her rubbery lips, already slippery from my caresses and, I suspect, Mom's own anticipation.
Once again, she turned, smiled, and arched her back before facing the piano. I pushed my throbbing member further under Mom's butt despite the roughness with which my cotton pajamas treated its tender head.
The music shifted to the long, lilting section I knew preceded the finale. Mom played with one hand, reaching behind her to grasp my wrist, pulling my hand away from delivering the delicate rubs she seemed to enjoy so much. Why was she stopping me?
Mom turned and smiled at me again, more a frustrated smile than a sweet one. She pulled my hand around her hip and then along her skin directly behind her, until my finger was poised in the small of her back. Down, she pushed, directing my finger between the swell of her buttocks and into the groove between, and below, until it snagged the waistband of her panties. After a brief pause, as if to signal that I was now where she wanted me, Mom released my hand and returned hers to the keyboard, broadened her smile, and turned away to face the keyboard.
I still exactly wasn't sure what Mom wanted me to do until she leaned way forward, her chest almost touching the keyboard, squeezing my left hand tightly between her belly and her leg, and cocking her behind up toward me in an exaggerated posture. Then, I knew.
Slowly, wanting to emphasize and prolong the sensation for us both, I pushed my hooked finger lower, dragging the waistband of Mom's panties with me. I had to push hard to pull the wings of her panties over her hips and around the bulge of her cheeks but Mom lifted her bum to make it easier for me. I really wanted to leave my finger embedded in her crack but the slow lilt on the piano was well under way and I didn't want to waste any more time.
I pulled my hand out and depressed the waistband of my pajamas, allowing my throbbing member to spring forth with such eagerness I had to push down with extra effort to guide its head under Mom's bum, sliding with a snap past the waistband of her panties. As soon as it was in, I slid my right hand around to rejoin its brother, easing Mom's right rubbery lip apart, opening her soaking butterfly wide. I wished I could have my head under Mom's skirt just to see that but not in lieu of dipping my fingertips into her wet pussy in time with the soft lilt of the music and the long slide of my cock between the panties and her cheeks.
It was all I could do not to cry out each time my cock skidded under Mom's perineum to the forchette of her vulva and beyond. Mom had leaned so far forward that my cock was able to just peek inside her open lips, spread apart by my teasing fingers. Though her playing was impeccable, Mom released a small moan each time my cockhead nudged into her slit.
I pressed my attack with a subdued but insidious fervor just ahead of the inexorable progression of the music. Ever just barely on the leading edge, my cock sawed back and forth, scraping less and less as Mom released her love oil in a silent welcome. Mom was so wet, I was convinced I could hear my cock sloshing through her panties above the music, but surely that was an illusion. Anyway, by the time I was conscious of it, the music was louder and more intense and we were nearing the climax. I could no longer hear anything but our panting breath.
Mom slipped into the final stretch, leaning into it to pound the keys and I followed suit, thrusting my hips forward as far as I could while at the same time being careful not to push her right off the bench. My cock was pushing into Mom's slit, dragging her fluid out, thus helping each subsequent forward shove but, try as I might, a slight insertion was all I could manage.
Mom and I were in divine harmony with the music and when the finale came crashing down I released my golden spunk in a series of glorious torrents, struggling to keep my head ensconced inside Mom's heavenly slit. As the echoes of the last keys resounded through the house and slowly receded into the walls, Mom sat back on the seat, forcing me out of her slit but enveloping me between her lusciously snug cheeks. Mom's behind squeezed, wringing out the final vestibules of my gift as my cock shrunk, the last drops seeping from its retreating head.
The house fell silent and I slipped out as Mom stood. She looked very sexy as she padded away in bare feet rather than the high heels one would expect to accompany such a fancy dress, across the hallway and into the living room where she turned to face my father, who was clapping loudly. Mom flung her hands wide, a huge smile gracing her face, then bowed to her audience and, with less professional affection, leaned forward out of my sight to give my father a kiss and accept his gratified hug.
I replayed that vision all night, each time I yanked my cock. My mother, leaning over to kiss my father as he hugged her tight to show his appreciation of her talented delivery. I wasn't visibly part of that beautiful family spectacle but I was there all the same, inside my mother's panties, a sticky offering worshipping the entrance to her cathedral.
Mother was clearly over the edge, and so was I.
Pictures
Several days followed with little interaction between us. Mom, I suspect, needed a little space and I was wary of approaching her after such an intense episode, given what had happened the last time. I decided to wait for a sign that she was approachable, no matter how hard that was for me to do.
We had gone through the weekend but I and the other serfs were laid off for a few days while the heavy equipment was moved to a new location. Mom sent me out to clean up Dad's carpentry shop in the backyard, mostly, I think, to keep me out of her hair, top and bottom.
I knew Dad didn't like anyone trespassing in his sacred shop, so I didn't do much. I swept the floor and put some stuff away that wasn't in obvious use for one of the several projects he had going on, but that was about it. In my general tidying, I came across a wooden box, obviously made by my father, lying atop our old kitchen cupboards mounted on the far wall of the shop. I stepped carefully down the ladder and placed the box on the large work-table in the center of the shop.
It took me a few minutes to figure out how to open the box and if Dad hadn't made me smaller versions as toys when I was a kid, I might have ended up simply putting it back unopened. But three simple pushes and pulls, sliding small pieces of embedded wood in or out, and the lid popped up. I eased the spring-loaded top open, wary of that it was some kind of trick box. It wasn't, but I was still surprised, by the contents.
There were three bundles of pictures neatly laid out left to right, in the sequence of their dates, noted on the paper wrapped around them to protect the pictures from the elastic bands keeping them together. The pictures were dust free, safe inside the felt-lined cedar box.
I picked up the first bundle and freed it from its wrapping. I began looking at the pictures, careful to place them face down in the box in the original order. Knowing my father, he would know if a single picture was out of place.
They were all pictures of Grandma, about Mom's age, and the resemblance to Mom was striking, given they weren't related. Oh, you wouldn't have mistaken them as relatives, but their hair was a similar color, something I didn't know because Grandma's had been gray as long as I remembered. What I did notice, and probably wouldn't have a few months ago, was how much their figures were alike. If you exchanged bodies under the heads, you wouldn't have noticed.
Both women, Mom now and Grandma in the pictures, had wonderful figures. Ample but not overly large breasts miraculously supported above surprisingly narrow waists atop flaring hips atop a pair of tapering legs that appeared long but weren't because both Mom and Grandma were only about five foot four, tops. I would wager that both women were slender in their youth and grew into their sexually appealing bodies late in their twenties, well after childbirth.
Half a dozen pictures down, I found another similarity between Mom and Grandma. The only picture I had encountered so far with another person in the frame, my grandfather. I was surprised to see that he was eight to ten years older than Mom, about the same difference between Mom and Dad's ages.
