Page 05
I gave up. I avoided home as much as possible over the weekend even though Dad did go golfing on Saturday and fishing with his buddies on Sunday. On Monday I made no suggestions about dinner and did not select any clothes for Mom. Tuesday was the same but Wednesday morning, as I was leaving the breakfast table, Mom asked me what I would like for dinner.
"Pardon me?"
"What would you like for dinner?" she repeated.
My mind was blank so she suggested a few options and I selected one. I wasn't sure if she was just asking, like she might have in the old days, or if she was inviting me to take charge again. Minutes later she caught me as I was going out the door.
"You're leaving already?"
"Yeah, I'm already late."
Looking concerned, she said, "Oh dear." She sighed, then added, "Should I wear the green blouse with the pleated skirt?"
I couldn't tell is she was jerking me around or if she was serious so I didn't agree though I liked the outfit she suggested.
"I prefer the navy blue skirt with a white blouse."
Mom nodded but didn't make a commitment before wishing me a good day and turning to walk away, leaving the door open. I stepped back to close the door and watched her slow return to the kitchen. She was wearing a pair of tight black leotards and a tank top with a loose, translucent white shirt over top that was long enough to cover her ass, only it didn't. Mom had pulled it up in front as if about to tie it up and that left her leotard-covered buttocks on full display. A younger woman with a slimmer butt wouldn't have been able to compete with that vision. With each step, one of Mom's cheeks bulged its fullness atop a leg and then the other took its turn. They rolled from one side to the other until she reached the kitchen doorway and stopped.
I should have looked away but I didn't. With the shirt still held around her waist, Mom twisted her torso so she look back, tossing her hair around her face. Belatedly, I raised my eyes from her ass which had tightened to highlight her right buttock perfectly. Her right breast jutted out in full profile and her eyes twinkled as she spoke.
"Pork chops?"
"Yeah, pork chops," I confirmed.
All day at school, I wondered what she would do and went around in circles in my mind about whether or not she was renewing our game. Wednesday was one of my early days but the tension was so great I skipped my last class anyway and rushed home.
Mom's office door was closed but that didn't mean anything because I was so early. I checked the kitchen and found a cookie sheet loaded with breaded chicken breasts ready to go in the oven. Shake and bake wasn't the option I had selected.
I climbed the stairs far enough to see that Dad's office door was closed and returned to Mom's office. I almost knocked but caught my hand in time. Quietly, I turned the knob, stepped inside, and carefully closed the door behind me.
She was wearing white blouse and pleated, navy blue skirt!
Mom didn't look at me or acknowledge my presence in any way. She was leaning back in her chair and keeping herself balanced with both feet on the opened lower right hand drawer. Her lower legs were encased in sheer stockings that shimmered with a bluish glow produced by the brilliant sunshine streaming through the window and reflecting off the skirt. The light highlighted the muscles in her calves which were tensed nicely by the effort to keep her chair tilting back. I wished I'd brought the camera. She looked beautiful, gorgeous, stunning—words weren't adequate.
In one hand she held a small notepad and in the other a pen. Her arms fell to the side until they were supported by the chair and her head tilted back. She shook her hair loose, then closed her eyes and sighed as if tired of confronting an intractable problem. It looked like she'd had hard day.
I approached quietly and took the notepad from her left hand. When she didn't react I knew she had been aware of my presence all along. I put the notepad on the desk and that's when I noticed the camera. I picked it up and took a picture. She opened her eyes.
"Mason, don't. I'm a mess."
"No you're not. You're beautiful."
I snapped another picture.
"Liar."
"Close your eyes."
She did and I took lots of pictures from every angle around her. Though I stooped down to get a couple of good ones of her legs I didn't push the camera under her skirt. The way I'd done that before seemed crass to me now.
When I stood up, Mom's left hand dropped inward from the arms of the chair and, pinching her skirt, slowly dragged it up her thigh until the hem cleared her knees. I snapped a couple more pictures and then she grasped the skirt higher and pulled it up several more inches. A couple of snaps and she did it again until a good six or seven inches of thigh was showing. I stopped to enjoy the show. I guess Mom interpreted that to mean the skirt wasn't high enough because she pulled on it again and it slid down her slightly raised legs until a pair of blue panties was exposed.
Forgetting crassness, I leaned over and took several shots of the front of her panties. It wasn't until I was focusing through the lens that I realized that Mom wasn't wearing a bra under the white blouse. Her nipples were pressing into the fancy, delicate material, surrounded by the bulging swell of her breasts. My cock stiffened but I didn't care if she opened her eyes. She should know that she would excite any man, including me.
I took several close-ups of her chest, then flipped the top button undone and snapped a couple more. The corners of Mom's mouth turned up in a weak smile. I ventured to undo another button and then another after taking a couple of hasty pictures. When she didn't complain I casually flipped the remaining button open above her skirt and spread the blouse apart until it threatened to completely expose her breasts. Only her nipples, stiff and excited, kept that from happening.
As if to reassure her, I said, "Dad was still working when I came in."
I could have shot myself. Why did I remind her he was in the house? What a frikken idiot!
"Is he?" she asked. "He'll be finished soon."
"Not for a while yet," I countered, apprehensive.
"No," she whispered. "Not for a while."
I put the camera on the desk and stood looking at her, free to do so because she had considerately kept her eyes closed. Though the bulge in my pants was now huge I wasn't afraid. I knew she wouldn't open her eyes, that she would let me enjoy her beauty.
And what beauty! Her tilted back face held a serene expression, her breasts were completely exposed except for the nipples, and the blue panties hardly disguised the mound my knuckles had so happily caressed not two weeks earlier. To think my fingers had explored the pussy underneath those panties only a week before. I remembered how she reacted to the insertion of my fingers and had to bend forward to let my cock unfurl a little in my pants.
I reached down and let my extended finger flip the edge of the blouse aside and then off Mom's right nipple. I sucked in my breath, overwhelmed by its magnificence and fear that she would be upset, but she wasn't. If anything, a small sigh escaped her lips but otherwise she remained calm and relaxed. It took almost a minute for me to regain control of my breathing and throughout that time my gaze never left Mom's nipple. It seemed to have a life of its own, perched precariously upon her breast, swaying like a skyscraper in a strong wind when she breathed, and becoming ever more erect as I watched.
I moved closer to the chair and noticed that Mom still held the pen in her right hand. Gently pulling it from her grasp, I was about to put it on the desk beside the notepad, but paused, then moved my hand over her legs and dropped it between her thighs.
"Woops-a-daisy," I said.
Mom smiled.
I dropped my right hand between her legs and tried to pick it up but, not so surprisingly, was unable to get a good hold. The elusive pen evaded my grasp as my fingers rubbed and scraped between her thighs. It was just like my pursuit of the keys except that was in the darkness of the car and this was in the late afternoon sunshine streaming into Mom's office. I could see the back of my fingers caressing the tender inside of her thighs, could monitor their slow, clandestine approach nearer and nearer the blue panties, and imagined the expected instant of first contact.
Just four inches away the pen caught in the crevice of Mom's thighs where they thickened and touched each other, clearly making it an easy task to retrieve the pen. I placed my fingers and thumb on either side and pressed against her flesh to dig in for the capture. Mom parted her thighs and the pen fell, one end lodging into the leather seat and the other crashing onto the blue mound with an imagined thump. It threatened to roll off but then settled into the shallow groove running up the center.
I stared, stupidly wondering what to do and why Mom hadn't said anything, grabbed the pen herself, or just sat up. I looked up, my gaze sliding over the skirt bunched up on her tummy and through the gap between her breasts, pausing to drink in the sight of the magic nipple, then continued up until I discovered the wan smile still painting her face. My eyes retraced the path back to the panties and my fingers reestablished contact but instead of picking it up they pressed it deeper into the groove. There was no response from Mom, neither a murmur of pleasure nor sound of complaint, not a stiffening of limbs or, looking up, removal of the smile.
It was my turn to smile. I gripped the lower part of the pencil between thumb and forefinger and wiggled it in the groove. Still no response. Pressing the pen in more firmly, I let my other fingers flower out to brush over the puffiness surrounding the pen and that caused the slightest of tremors in Mom's legs and tummy. I let them flutter around the pen again causing a somewhat more discernible response and, while looking at her face to gauge her reaction, flipped the other side of the blouse off the left nipple. Her tit was now fully exposed, plump but firm, rising up to form a perfect bed for the dark pink extension. My left thumb hovered over the right one, closest to me, and I leaned down to breath on the other, freshly revealed wonder. Like a three-point landing of a jet, I lowered my thumb onto the right nipple, captured the other between my lips, and pushed the pen aside so I could cup Mom's mound with my fingers.
"Oh my, oh no, ohhhhh."
I pinched, and sucked, and pressed my fingers in hard, gouging the panties into her damp slit and scrunching my hand down to cup her mound in my palm. The fingers of my left hand tried to encompass Mom's right breast without releasing her nipple while my mouth enveloped the left until its nipple poked the roof of my mouth. I rubbed her panties hard and felt her right hand grasp my forearm. I braced myself to make it hard for her to pull it away but she didn't. Instead, she steered it, forcing it into a circular motion. A minute later her left hand pushed the waistband of her panties down, dragging it off and baring her pussy. Immediately, my fingers found her wet slit and seconds later pushed inside, quickly and easily accessing the depths of her cunt.
Ecstatic, I ravished her pussy with my fingers, fingering her so frantically that the wet, sloppy sound filled the room. I had never fingered a girl so callously, so desperately. I must have pinched her nipple too hard or bitten the other for Mom cried out.
"Ohhhhhh, Jeeeezzusss!"
"Sorry," I mumbled into her tit. The sound barely escaped.
"Uh, uh, uh, unnnggghhh."
Her thighs stiffened and clamped around my hand. She was coming. I kept my fingers, three of them I now realized, plugged in as hard as I could and held them still while Mom's pussy writhed around them. I lifted my head and watched her face contort into an amazing variety of expressions, culminating in an open-mouthed, silent scream.
When she was done, Mom relaxed back into her serene demeanor, partial nakedness open before me, as if she didn't have a care in the world. I pulled her panties up, arranged her skirt properly, and then buttoned up her blouse. Her eyes never opened. I positioned myself near her head and leaned down to give her a gentle kiss then stood up. Looking down to enjoy her pretty face, I noticed how close my bulging erection was and remembered dreaming of sliding my cock between her lips.
It must have been that thought, and carelessness, that made me sway toward her. My pants brushed the side of her face. Before I could pull away, Mom turned toward me and her lips pressed against my covered manhood. Incredibly, she kissed it through my pants. I groaned and chased her mouth as her face retreated. Her head couldn't retract very far and contact was reestablished. I thought she would lift her hands to push me away and I foolishly grabbed her head to keep it in place. Miraculously, Mom kissed my bulge again.
I held her head, more to provide support than to prevent its escape, because Mom was now kissing my bulge repeatedly as I swayed against her face. Her kisses turned into little munches, then bigger ones, and finally her mouth opened wide enough to gently bite my shaft. That's when I came. I flooded my pants, holding her head with both hands, my legs trembling as my cock throbbed its sticky deposit throughout my shorts.
I managed not to fall. Mom was still in a reclined position with her eyes closed when I turned away. I opened the door and turned for a last look. She was already sitting up, one end of the retrieved pen held to her lips, looking at the notepad.
"Mason."
"Yeah," I choked out.
"Tell your father it's time for dinner, please."
"Okay."
I shut the door firmly, feeling that would somehow help keep what had just happened there a secret. When I knocked on Dad's door and told him to come down for dinner, it did seem to help. It didn't feel so obvious that I had just mauled and sucked his wife's tits, fingered her pussy, and pushed my cock against her face until I came. I felt terrible for doing what I had done but insanely elated at the same time and could hardly await the opportunity to do it again.
To feel better, I reminded myself that Dad had sold the Cuda. That made me wonder if Mom would do more to erase the guilt she felt from her own involvement in getting rid of the car. Not that she should feel guilty. I liked school and knew that I would have more opportunity when I was finished than most of my friends who were working in coffee shops and waiting tables. No, Mom shouldn't feel guilty at all.
But did she, or was that just a cover so she could be 'made' to do things she secretly wanted? She had to be lonely. She and Dad were so estranged I couldn't imagine them having sex and I hadn't them coupling at night for years. How could she have let me get away with what I'd done if she wasn't as horny as all get out?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
On Thursday, after Dad took his coffee into the living room to watch the morning news, I gave Mom instructions for dinner and told her I had laid out the green blouse and skirt combo for her to wear.
"No substitutions this time," I said.
"I wouldn't think of it, oh great Master," she joked, bending forward in a deep bow and sweeping her right arm wide as she straightened up.
"Do that again," I whispered.
She did, without asking why.
"No, slowly," I said.
Mom bent forward again, exaggerating the arch in her back so her breasts pushed out, maintaining the curvature of her back as she stood, and swept her arm wide so her tits thrust hard against her robe. I stepped behind her and lifted the robe from her shoulders. She looked toward the open kitchen doorway and the sound of the news, then shrugged her arms out of the sleeves. I moved in front of her with the robe folded over my forearm.
"Do it again," I said.
Mom bent low, very slowly, back arched as before but now her breasts and nipples were clearly outlined despite the thick material of her nightgown. She laughed when she was bent right over because her big fluffy slippers looked silly in contrast to the elegant bow. She stood and shucked them off her feet, clearly expecting me to make her bow again.
I draped the bathrobe over the back of a chair, put my hands under her arms and beside her breasts to turn her to face the doorway, and said, "Again."
Mom bowed even more slowly so it was easy to stop her before her back was quite horizontal.
"Stop."
I walked around her, knelt down to examine her dangling tits and passed my hand underneath, close, but without touching them. I just wanted to suggest that I could if I wanted to. I stood behind her, again very close, but without touching.
"Lower."
Mom bent until her head was almost to the floor and waited for further instruction. Her ass was now pressing against the growing bulge in the front of my pants. I waited until she became unsteady and began to sway. I enjoyed the rub of her bottom on my pants for a few seconds, then commanded her to stand but stopped her when she had risen just past half way and her ass had broken contact with my groin.
I gently grasped a handful of hair and stroked it in both hands, molding it into a short pony tail. The action 'accidentally' pulled her behind against my pants. I tugged the pony to one side and then the other which twisted her shoulders and forced her ass to rub across my bulge.
"Do you remember what I want for dinner?" I asked.
Mom nodded and that added an extra dimension of pleasure for my cock which was now fully erect.
"Tell me."
Mom repeated the entire meal plan while I played with her hair, pulling it to one side or the other and even up, as if reining a horse. The soft rubbing effect transferred to my cock, exquisitely.
"And what should I put out for you to wear?"
"The green skirt and blouse," she answered.
Did she know me so well?
"That's right. Up… Stop!"
I halted Mom at a forty-five degree angle, perfect for exerting maximum pressure on my cock. I transferred my hands to her waist to hold her more firmly but she kept her head tilted back herself.
"You can choose what to wear underneath."
"Okay."
"What color of bra are you going to wear?"
"Nothing."
My cock lurched in my pants.
"No bra?"
"No," her voice thickened.
I moved my hips forward in a not-so-subtle thrust.
"And panties?" I asked, my voice matching the thickness of hers.
"None."
My cock lurched against her ass again, then again, and again. My hands slipped up to cup her breasts.
"Bend," I instructed.
Mom bent right over and I lost my grip on her breasts, my hands sliding down her waist to her hips. I pressed myself into her ass and pulled.
"Stand."
Mom stood up and immediately stepped forward to retrieve her robe. I realized she had heard something but was too slow to do anything about it. She was slipping her feet into her slippers when Dad entered the kitchen. His eyes swept over me and then back at her. A funny look came over his face.
"Anything wrong?" he asked her.
"No. Just trying to figure out what to make Mason for lunch."
"Can't he make his own lunch?"
"I can do it faster and he's already late."
Dad frowned. "You need to get up earlier," he said to me. "Can you do that?" he asked, a hint of anger in his voice.
"Yup. I can get it up anytime."
Mom choked back a laugh and my face blanched as I realized my error. Thankfully, Dad missed it.
"That'll be the day," he said.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Mom defied me. I found her in her office wearing the green blouse without a bra. That was well and fine but the green skirt had been replaced by white slacks.
