Page 07
"Do you want me to show you my panties?" Mom whispered.
I nodded, my cock hardening to her words, the way she said them, and the way I imagined my father had felt when his mother said the same thing to him.
Mom's knees parted slightly, then stopped. Click.
"But you've already seen my panties. I've already shown you." Mom's knees snapped shut.
What a fucking tease she was. I loved it.
"But that was in piano practice."
"That's right. That was to reward you, but this is different, isn't it?"
Mom's knees opened again, wider this time.
"This is just for the hell of it," Mom swore. Click.
"Do you like playing out of class," Mom straightened her left leg again, almost poking the camera with her pointing, flexing toes. "Hmmmmm?"
Click, click, click.
"I guess you do, don't you?"
Mom wasn't expecting me to answer. Of course I wanted to see them. Mostly, I'd only been able to touch them. She withdrew her foot but placed it on the highest rung on the stool, keeping her left knee high and her legs, necessarily, wide open. Her panties swam into view. Oh, but these weren't the same as the ones I'd seen that first time she'd opened her legs on the piano bench. No, these were bright red, made entirely of a fine, see-through mesh that did little to cover the pouting lips constrained beneath.
Click, click. As I crouched down to get a better view, I dropped the camera, looked down, and watched as it bounced on the carpet, seemingly in slow motion. I turned my head up and stared at Mom's red-screened pussy. I could feel the smile painted on her face, though I didn't look up. I moved forward, getting closer, my cheeks scraping along her inner thighs, and then I was there, my mouth covering that beautiful, red, dampish mesh, my nose inhaling its perfumed odor.
"Yes," Mom cried, her hands clamping on my head, then suddenly, "Wait!" her hands flailing wide.
I grasped her legs to stop her from falling backward off the stool.
"On the bed, put me on the bed," she ordered, eyes wild.
I lifted my little mother easily from the stool and carried her to the bed, flopping her down and immediately diving down to get my head between her skirt, her hands, even as she fell, already grasping my hair to pull me into place.
Munch, munch, munch. I loved living past the edge. I pulled her panties up, half way to her knees, pushed my head underneath the waistband stretched between her legs, and was snapped into place again by her urging fingers entwined in my hair.
"Ohhhhh, yes, yes, yessss ... eat it ... that's it, lick me, oh yeah, lick me."
Mom descended into a constant sequence of yearnings and encouragements. She steered my head around, down for me to shove my tongue in deep, out to lick her slit, around to slather her lips, and up to tease her clit, flicking fast and slow, and dipping for lingering taste. I thought all my hair would be pulled out of my head by the time she finished which took much longer than that first time on the floor.
When she was done, I pulled my head away, crouched back on my heels, then braced my hands on her widespread knees and pushed myself up to my feet. Mom didn't try to hide herself at all. She kept her legs wide open even though the tightly stretched panties, still strung across her thighs, must be urging them to close. She didn't try to push her dress down to cover her soaking wet, throbbing pussy, framed by pubic hair slick from her juice and my saliva. She just lay there on her back, regarding me calmly though her chest was still heaving with excitement.
"I suppose you want me to let you do what you did the other day. Don't you?"
I didn't say anything but I looked down at the edge of the bed, assessing if I needed to lift her further onto the bed or if I could just put my knees on the bed and lean over her head.
"You want to put your thing in my mouth, don't you?"
I nodded.
"Take it out then. Let me see if it's clean."
I shoved my hand in my shorts and popped the snap open with a twist, pulling my stiff cock out with a single, practiced movement.
"Do that a lot, do you?" Mom teased, acknowledging my expertise.
I leaned forward.
"I haven't said yes," Mom held up her hand.
I stopped, confused, then dropped my eyes to the wet pussy lying open a foot from my yearning dick.
"Not on your life, mister," Mom barked, snapping her legs closed and sitting up.
She looked at my cock, then reached out and took it, tentatively, in the soft, delicate fingers of one hand. She pulled it toward her and gave it a quick lick, then another, and another, followed by a slow twirl around its head. She looked up at me and smiled.
"I don't remember any pictures with a trellis in them," she said.
So she hadn't seen all the pictures. The trellis had only shown up in the second and third bundles. So Mom didn't really know the half of it.
"I want to see them all," Mom purred, dipping her head to lick my cock again.
"Ahhhhhh, Mom. That feels so good."
"Will you show me the rest of the pictures?" Mom looked up at me.
I hesitated and she dipped her head down to flick her tongue around my straining cock, quickly looking up for my answer as I groaned my pleasure.
I nodded. "Yeah. Sure, sure."
I tried to grasp Mom's head, like she had mine, but she batted my hands away, leaving my cock to waver uncontrollably in front of her face.
"Please, Mom," I begged, my cock lurching about.
Mom grasped my cock in her incredibly soft fingers again and quickly dipped her head, surprising me by enveloping my head and squeezing it to the roof of her mouth with her tongue, then swirling around it before pulling her mouth away with a loud pop. She looked up at me, groaning above her.
"All of them. Promise?"
"Yes, yes, yes."
This time she let me grab her head but I couldn't force it forward. Either she was too strong or I was suddenly weak.
"Say it," Mom commanded.
"All of them," I gasped. "I'll show you every picture."
"Deal," Mom said, lowering her head, treating me with the gift of her warm, sucking, teasing mouth.
I bet Mom didn't have much practice giving head but you wouldn't have known it from the cocksucking she gave me. Her head bobbed fast and slow and her fingers blended in perfectly with the music she was composing on the fly, one stroking, the other tickling or squeezing my balls, gently to goad me higher, hard to bring me down. Sometimes she looked up to smile at me but mostly she looked down, concentrating on her task. Several times she twisted her head to the side and urged me with her hands on my ass to thrust into her cheek, somehow knowing the sight of my cock bulging in her mouth would be tremendously exciting for me.
After maybe the fifth time she had squeezed my balls painfully hard, she drew her head back in a long pull - she had been slowly sliding her mouth down my shaft until her lips tickled my hairs, and then back, until her mouth sucked noisily completely off my dick. She had a way, as her mouth traveled up and down, of pulsing her tongue strongly along the underside of my shaft. That felt extremely good.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"Yes. Please, please," I gasped. Please let me hold your head,I thought. I want to fuck your face.
But that was not to be. Mom quickly flipped around so that her back was facing me and then shuffled her hips away. She reached behind her and unzipped her dress, shaking it off her shoulders and letting it fall to her waist. Of course, she wasn't wearing a bra. Then Mom reached over and pulled a pillow from under the comforter and placed it behind her. She leaned back until she was lying flat on her back, her neck arched over the pillow, throat stretched long and her tits, already thrusting from the curve of her back, held up from her chest by her small hands which gently squeezed them to emphasize her very stiff nipples. Mom dropped her chin, opened her mouth wide, and waited.
Unfucking believable! When she went beyond the pale, she didn't walk, she leapt. I leaned forward, taking my own cock in hand since she wasn't providing any guidance. She was silent as I approached, intrinsically trusting her son, knowing she didn't have to warn me to be gentle. I pressed down, forcing my cock from its upright position, fighting its urgent need to spring upwards, bending it down, until the soft underside grazed the bottom of Mom's nose. Forward then, over her upper lip and into her mouth, Mom adjusting herself to save my tender head from grazing across her teeth, her tongue now tickling the top of my eager cock.
I pushed in. Oh, god. What a feeling. Slowly, ever so slowly, I nudged my prick deeper into her mouth until she could take it no more, gagging to warn me if I hadn't already twigged to the tension in her hands which gripped my thighs. I pulled back as Mom made a gargling sound, swallowing the extra saliva generated by my brief contact with her tonsils.
I pushed back slowly, trying to figure out where to stop short of my last stroke so Mom wouldn't gag. I stopped and Mom swirled her tongue around my head. I started to pull away but her hands tightened, clenching my thighs and pulled me forward, until my cock once again pushed against her throat. Again, Mom gagged and emitted that gargling sound but she quickly pulled me forward again, forcing my cock to the back of her mouth, gagging, holding me in place, twisting her head around my knob, before finally releasing me.
A quick, loud swallow and she pulled me back, faster this time, harder. Again the gagging, again holding me in place, her head grinding around on my cock. Release. Noisy swallow. My cock returning, in a thick, slippery bath. Gag, grind, no swallow this time. Away and quickly back, really wet now, gag, grind, pulled back, in on my own next time without Mom's urging, her fingers now inside my legs, tickling my balls. Oh god. Unbelievable. So unimaginably good.
Back and forth, back and forth. Now, no gagging. Mom holding me, by the balls, pulling, pulling, forward, in, shit, so tight, like I was in a cunt, slipping and sliding, Mom's head twisting, oh god, her hands pushing me away, pulling out, gasping, Mom gasping for air, sounding wet, her hand pulling my balls again, forward, fast, quickly popping into that cunt-like tunnel again.
I leaned forward, bracing my knees on the edge of the bed and placed my hands on Mom's tits which she had allowed to fall back on her chest. I grasped them firmly, squeezing her nipples into my palms, and used them to pull her throat closer to me, her head bending even more as it slipped over the edge of the bed. Alarmed, I lightened my grip on her tits, then realized that it was Mom, her heels digging into the mattress, who had shoved my cock deeper into her throat. I gripped her tits hard again and bulged my cock inside her mouth.
Back and forth, I was staring down at Mom, dimly becoming aware this wasn't The Exorcist, it was me, not some demon, that was making her throat bulge like that. Was I a demon? The thought strangely excited me and I moved faster in Mom's mouth, stayed longer in her throat. The sloppy sucking sounds filled the room. Then suddenly, it was upon me. I burst forth, coating her throat, mesmerized by Mom's pulsating neck, knowing it was me flooding inside her.
"Ohhhhhh, Goddddd," I moaned, over and over, my thrusts slowing, becoming weaker as my balls emptied.
When I was done, Mom pulled herself away from my cock with a final suck as it popped out of her mouth. She twisted around and got up onto her knees, sitting back on her heels, leaving her dress around her waist, tits bare and jutting toward me. She wiped her mouth delicately with one hand. Not a drop of my cum was to be seen.
"God had nothing to do with it," Mom said. "I want to see those pictures soon."
"I work tomorrow," I said. "You know how Dad is about his shop."
Mom knew I meant we couldn't get in there at night, when he was home. It had to be in the day."
"Tell me where they are," Mom said.
"I can't. Dad will know. They're in one of his secret boxes."
Mom knew then that I was speaking the truth. I had to get them for her.
"Don't be too long then," Mom said, climbing off the bed and walking past me, reaching behind to zip up her dress, walking awkwardly because the panties were still stretched across her knees, restricting her gait.
"There's no more play time until I see those pictures."
Blackmail
I suffered through the rest of the week. We had piano practice every night but each time Mom wore a crisp white blouse, with a bra, and a tight black skirt. Her outfit prevented any underneath play and when I tried to hold her tits, she elbowed my hands out of the way. Mom insisted I play, but only the piano.
After each session, Mom walked slowly into the living room to receive Dad's accolades. The light shimmered off the sheer hose, her high heels tensioning her calf muscles as she moved, turning nice legs into stunning ones. Mom leaned forward in an exaggerated fashion that emphasized the jut of her behind for a prolonged moment, mercilessly recalling my memory of the same pose she had struck when my jiz filled her panties. She always turned to smile sweetly at me when she straightened up. Each night, I went to bed with an unfulfilled, steel hard boner. No matter how hard I spanked the monkey in bed as I pictured Mom in my mind's eye, it was a far cry from sliding it into her throat.
My father hung around the house all day Saturday and that night I suffered through an especially long practice, a full session in which we played each of three pieces, only one of which we would actually play at the recital.
The next day, we went to church. I hadn't been able to devise a plan to get Mom into the shop to see the pictures, or to get them out and lose Dad long enough to show them to Mom. It had only been five days and I was like a junkie without a hit, nervous, fidgety, and desperate.
Mom, however, was the picture of her old cheery self Sunday morning. She wandered out of her bedroom to the main bathroom to get things she had 'forgotten' to put back into her ensuite, clad only in the slip she would wear under her dress. Dad admonished her but she shushed him.
"Jon's in his room getting dressed. Anyway, we're all family. Don't be so silly."
To see yet be unable to taste. How cruel. Mom was ruthless in the display of her naked charms under the slip as she padded barefoot back and forth three times, slowing down as soon as she passed through her bedroom door and turned into the hallway where her audience of one waited. She pretended everything was normal though it wasn't every day that your mother dressed so, stopping to scratch an itch, high on the inside of her thigh.
I had to get those pictures. I would call in sick on Monday. I couldn't take another day.
The sermon was interminably long but finally, we were outside the church, both Dad and Mom chatting to the rest of the flock. I was eager to leave, though why, I have no idea. Nothing would happen until tomorrow morning, after Dad left and I was alone with my mother and my feigned illness. I walked to the car by myself and waited until Dad arrived with the keys.
Fifteen minutes later, I saw Mom walking toward me, managing to look sexy even in her church clothes. I suppose it helped that I had seen her this morning dressed only in the slip she wore underneath but I think I would have felt that way looking at her anyway. She's really is beautiful, I thought, the perfect balance of nature and nurture.
Wearing a pleased smile, Mom walked directly to the passenger side of the car where I was leaning against the back door and held her arm straight out from her shoulder, hand hanging limply down, the keys dangling from her fingers, a teasing smile on her face.
"Would you be so kind as to take me home, young sir?" Mom's laugh tinkled in my confused brain.
I held out my hand and the keys dropped into my palm.
"Isn't Dad ...,"
"He's going to stay and help out with some things around the church. One of the other men will give him a ride home," Mom explained, then added, "later this afternoon."
I ran to the front of the car but Mom's 'ahem' pulled me up short and I ran back to unlock the door and hold it open for her, remembering not to slam it. Running around again, I quickly started the car, slipped it into drive, and drove out of the parking lot. Mom only had to caution me once to slow down on the way home.
Once there, I ran through the house and opened the back door, waiting impatiently while Mom put her purse away, kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen.
"Come on, Mom. Let's go look."
Mom looked at me, a quizzical expression on her face. I knew she was playing a game, but I went along, knowing it was the only way to pass Go.
"The pictures, Mom. You remember?"
"Oh yes. The pictures. Let's have some lunch first."
"Lunch? Dad could be home by the time we finish. We can eat after."
"You can if you want, but I'm hungry."
Maddeningly, Mom began making some lunch. Frustrated, I ran out the shop and retrieved Dad's box, walking hurriedly back to the house as I tried to open it without success on the way. I burst through the back door and set the box on the counter where I managed to open it without problems, lifting the lid and stepping back so Mom could see the three bundles of photos.
Mom was leaning back against the counter, one knee cocked out in front of the other, holding a container of yogurt, languidly dipping and filling a small spoon to deliver the milky contents to her mouth. Her tongue flicked out to lick the bottom of the spoon each time, pulling it into her mouth in the same way she'd eaten the pie.
I held my hand out, open palm facing out, indicating the open box.
"Yes, I see," Mom casually commented, then slipped another spoonful into her sexy mouth.
I removed the first bundle and opened it, placing the first picture on the counter. Mom turned toward it, leaning her left hip against the counter, still sliding yogurt into her mouth. Slowly, I put the pictures down, one by one, waiting for her to nod before proceeding to the next. Mom looked long and hard at the last picture.
"Yes, I've seen these before," she finally spoke. "Do you think I'd look good in that color of blue?" she asked, leaving the spoon in her mouth, pointing to the lacy panties covering Grandma's pussy.
"Absolutely, Mom. You'd look awesome in any color under the rainbow."
"I'm not so sure," Mom mused after removing the spoon from her mouth, digging more yogurt onto the spoon but concentrating on Grandma's parted legs.
"We could try some," I suggested hopefully.
"Yes, that might be the way to go," Mom said, her tone still thoughtful.
Suddenly, she turned her back to the counter again, her voice picking up in speed and volume.
"Well, I didn't see a trellis," she stated emphatically.
I scrambled to gather the photos together, quickly reversing their order before binding them in the elastic again. I fished out the second bundle. Mom turned to look, leaning her hip against the counter as I stepped through the pictures, one by one.
When she saw Grandma lying on her back, twisting her legs around, even opening them, Mom turned to face the counter directly. The yogurt container was placed on the counter. A good sign, I thought. A good sign.
The best indicator was the thickening of Mom's voice right after a sudden intake of breath when I dealt the last picture. Mom stared at her mother-in-law, head flat on the grass, her bottom held high, legs closed, which only emphasized the mysterious triangle she dangled in front of her boy, its dampness clearly evident.
"You can see the trellis, can't you?" I asked, seeking confirmation that I had fulfilled my end of the bargain.
