Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories

"Let him touch you, but not too far, too fast. Tease him as long as you can so you can control him. And if he starts playing his computer games, or reading comic books, cut him off and let him know why. You have to break him of that habit."

I raised my hands, brushing her breasts with the backs of my fingers. How could I get her let me have her? She was so sexy standing before me, letting me, barely older than her son, be an authority.

"Soon, he's going to want these," I brushed her breasts again, this time letting my fingers graze her nipples, stiff, proud and excited, not flaccid and oblivious. Whether it was this situation or the memory of her son mesmerized by her breasts, or both, she was clearly excited. I let my fingers brush more firmly against her on the down stroke, firmly flicking her nipples like I was turning off a pair of light switches. My cock twitched as I watched them spring back.

Just then, car lights swept across the windows. Paul and Mom were back. Mary turned away, flustered and feverishly buttoning her blouse. I pictured myself behind her, gently tugging her hair as I fitted myself to her. God! I wanted her.

We sat in the living room for our feast, so there was no opportunity to openly caress Mom. I wasn't really in the mood to put on a show for Paul anyway, and truth be known, I kind of wanted to touch Mary. We watched a movie while we ate -- not one of my study movies, I hadn't found anything else to show yet. Our seating arrangements changed through the movie as we sampled different dishes, from our original arrangement of Mom and I on one couch and Mary and Paul on another, to all of us squeezed onto the larger couch.

I managed to briefly put my hand on Mary's knee and press my thigh to hers several times unnoticed by the others, except Mary. I took it as a good sign that she seemed sensitive to my touch, glancing at the others to make sure they weren't looking. I was a little concerned when Paul was in the kitchen helping Mom get drinks. They seemed to be there for a while and there were one or two noticeable quiet parts. Given what I'd seen this afternoon, I imagine Paul was copping a feel and Mom was letting him. I tried to ignore it, taking advantage of their absence to offer 'advice' to Mary, mentioning that Paul would eventually try to touch her legs, and she should consider letting him. I demonstrated by sliding my hand between her thighs as I whispered to her, like we were conspirators.

The whole evening was like being at a high school party with your girlfriend but trying to flirt or sneak some time with the other girls there. When the movie was over, Mary professed to be tired and needing an early night. Mom claimed the same and after they left she went upstairs. I said I wasn't tired and went to my study as soon as Mom was out of sight. I moved right away to watch the cameras downstairs.

Paul was sitting on the couch, in the middle, not the end. He had changed into his pajamas and appeared to be waiting. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, Mary walked into view. She was dressed in an old, worn, plain cloth bathrobe. As she turned to sit, I could see the robe was tightly belted and the lapels were closed tight high up close to her neck. Strangely, this pleased me though at another level I wanted to see her open her robe.

Paul's "Thanks for watching with me," answered my next thought 'I thought she was tired'. "I know you're tired, Mom."

"That's Ok, Paul. I'm relaxed when I'm with you, but wake me if I doze off, don't let me sleep on the couch."

"Ok Mom."

Paul raised his hand, which I now noticed was holding a remote, and pointed it at the TV. As he tossed it aside, they both turned their faces toward the TV. A moment later, however, Paul's gaze turned back to his mom, and the bumps pushing the old cloth up from her chest. If Mary noticed his stare, she didn't let on.

After a while her feet, stretched out onto the coffee table, began to fidget about. Although this distracted me, it didn't seem to catch Paul's attention at all. Until, that is, one foot pushed the slipper off the other, letting it fall to the floor, and then the favor was reversed. As each foot took turns rubbing the other, the robe fell off Mary's lower legs, exposing her crossed calves. Eventually, a 'V' opened higher up her legs, far above her knees.

Paul's eyes fell from his mother's chest to her legs, and down to her squirming feet. Mary casually pulled her robe together, closing the gap on her thighs and leaning forward to pull the robe back onto her lower legs. A moment later, the robe fell away from her calves again. She repeated this several more time before giving up.

Leaning forward had loosened the belt on her robe, allowing the lapels to part a little to reveal a narrow line of flesh down the center of her chest. She was by no means exposed like she'd been the night before, but the revelation certainly recaptured Paul's attention, and mine. My cock stirred at the memory of her bare breasts hours earlier, and the snappiness of her nipples.

"Do you mind if I turn the light down a little?" she asked Paul. He shook his head.

Mary twisted to reach the lamp switch, turning it down one level. When she turned back to nestle into the couch again, I could see that her belt had loosened markedly from the twisting of her body. The lapels were drawn further apart, and the robe slid higher up her body, opening a small gap above her shoulders. Despite the dimmer light, I was sure I could make out her nipples poking into the thin cotton robe. Mary's eyes fluttered closed and open several times through the next few minutes.

Out of the blue, Mary quietly stated that she thought Paul was growing up a lot lately and it made her feel more comfortable to have a grown son around, one that was leaving comics behind. I thought the comment was a little obvious but Paul didn't seem to react. Mary closed her eyes.

"You can turn the light down a little more if you want Mom," Paul graciously offered.

"Would you mind?" Mary asked.

"I can't reach," Paul answered, not a hundred percent honestly. He must have noticed that her robe loosened after turning down the light.

Mary twisted around to reach for the lamp again, this time holding her body aloft from the couch for longer as she seemed to have difficulty finding the control. She turned back again after dimming the light to its lowest setting. She seemed unaware that her robe had parted widely from her chest to her waist, and that the belt was basically undone. The robe was so loose, I could clearly see her navel and the top of her panties, the low rider kind. My cock hardened quickly knowing she wore only panties under her robe.

The robe was now quite loose around Mary's shoulders but she didn't seem to notice. Nor did she object when Paul reached over to push the robe off her shoulders like he'd done the night before. She only squirmed lower in the couch and closed her eyes again allowing the robe to open wider exposing more of her panties. Paul ran his eyes up and down Mary's body taking time to watch the sensual rubbing of her feet, the sexy curl of her toes and arch of her insteps.

After a while, perhaps having worked up his courage, Paul gingerly picked up ends of the robe's belt and dopped them to Mary's sides. Carefully, he placed the tip of his finger at the edge of the robe near him by her navel and pulled it very slowly until it was poised to fall off her hip. He repeated this on the other side, pushing it away. Mary's panties were now almost fully exposed.

One thing struck me immediately, although this was probably lost on Paul who was likely looking at the first nearly nude woman he'd ever seen. Mary's mound was very prominent. It rose up from her pelvis like a huge bulb on her slender frame. I wanted to envelop it, forcing her to buck her hips against my mouth. But Paul didn't give it so much as a second look. He was focused on her chest.

Moving his fingers higher, he parted her robe until her breasts were fully exposed. Her springy nipples were harder than this afternoon, stabbing up into the dim light of the room, dancing on her chest as she breathed. I realized this was a pretty woman with a very exciting body who had probably not had sex in quite some time. Seeing her expose herself to her son, on my suggestion, made me want to run downstairs, throw Paul to the side, and take her. As this thought shot through my mind and down to my dick, Mary uncrossed her legs, setting her feet fully a foot apart. From the vantage point of my camera, I could now see her panties all the way around from the height of her mound down through the crease between her legs. My hips twitched involuntarily as I tried to make out the contours of her pussy. Man, oh man.

Paul seemed afraid to touch her. He was leaning so close to her I thought he was smelling her but then I realized he was blowing. He was leaning very close to her breasts and blowing softly on her nipples which were now very stiff indeed. I was amazed that Mary was allowing this, she who was so worried about going too far. But he blew on her for a long time and she didn't make a move to stop him until he suddenly blew a line down her belly, past her navel and onto her panties. At that point, she suddenly grabbed his head in both hands.

"Lie down and watch the movie, sweetheart."

She pulled his head up and lay it sideways across her chest, directly on her bare breasts. Awkwardly, Paul stretched his slender frame out on the couch, laying on his side. As he did so, I understood my mother's repeated reference to him as 'big boy' despite his small stature. Paul was sporting an enormous lump under his pajama bottoms.

Mary held Paul's head to her chest but he managed to pull back so he was resting on her right shoulder so he could continue blowing on her nipple. Mary apparently didn't object to this restricted behavior and Paul continued to blow for a long time while Mary lay there quietly, eyes close, very still. Then, all of a sudden, her feet crossed again and the muscles in her thighs tightened. She seemed to be having a huge charlie horse, her legs vibrating as if she was having a seizure. My concern gave way to the realization that I was witnessing Mary having her first orgasm with her son.

When her legs relaxed, Mary pushed Paul's head aside and sat up, pulling her robe about her.

"My leg is all pins and needles, I must have fallen asleep on it. I'd better get to bed if I'm going to doze off like that," she said, smiling sheepishly at Paul. She tied the belt around her robe and looked like she was going to sit up when she suddenly grasped Paul's head in both hands and kissed him on his cheek, and then again on his mouth.

"Thank you, baby, for looking after me while I was sleeping."

Then she got up and walked away, toward the bedrooms. Paul watched her pad away on her bare feet, nursing his huge hardon. Then, he too got up and left, leaving the dim light on and me wondering if they were going to separate beds.
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I couldn't go upstairs thinking about Mary. I'd end up waking Mom and she wouldn't be happy. I'd been downstairs so long she was sure to be deeply asleep by now. So I searched for another letter to read, and found one from Colin. In Chapter 6, I told you about Colin's mother allowing him to 'tickle' her back, even letting him get frisky. In his last letter, his mom has promised to let him tickle her to sleep while her husband was still away camping with his buddies, but let him know she wouldn't let him get so frisky again.

The next day, Mom wore one of Dad's thick workshirts and sweat pants. I could hardly tell, with her slight figure, that there was a woman under there. But, trust me, my imagination filled in for me through the day. After supper, Mom sent me to the store to get some movies for us to watch. When I returned, she was dressed in a black suit. She had on a long, full length, form fitting black dress and a black jacket. Very elegant, but very conservative as well.

We sat and watched an entire movie, her sipping her wine, and she didn't even take the jacket off, let alone offer to lay across my lap for a nice 'tickle'. I did get to see her leg, at least the part that showed through the slit up the side. But not too far. This was a conservative suit fit for a funeral, so the slit only went to just above her knee.

I actually tried to get out of watching a second chick flick but Mom insisted. After it started, Mom paused the movie and stood up.

"Could you take my jacket off and hang it up for me, Colin?"

"Sure Mom." I stood, not enthusiastically, to remove her jacket for her. She unbuttoned the jacket and opened it to reveal a dress that reached right to her neck. As I pulled a sleeve down her arm I realized her dress must be sleeveless since her arm was bare. She turned as I pulled the sleeve off, her back to me, so I could slide the jacket off her other arm. As she turned, her back was revealed. Numbly, I realized the back of her dress was completely open. Her back was bared from shoulder to a blunted 'V' that reached to the crest of her behind providing an unrestricted view of her unblemished back. I pulled the jacket off her other arm as she turned once again to face me.

"Hang it up carefully, sweetie. I don't want it to get creased."

When I returned from hanging the jacket up in the hall closet, Mom was waiting for me, smiling.

"Do you like my 'funeral' dress?"

She spun slowly around, letting me gaze once more on the daring dip from her shoulders through the shallow valley at the base of her spine and up the sweeping rise onto her buttocks. She paused when her back was directly facing me, arched to emphasize the curve of her spine and the outline of her bottom as it pushed against the fine material of her elegant gown. My mother, I realized, was a woman who knew how maximize enjoyment for her audience and perhaps even thrived on delivering such satisfaction.

Facing me again, she stood with her hip cocked slightly to one side to highlight the slenderness of her waist and curve of her hips. After a long moment in which I simply stood there as well, I'm sure with my mouth open, she broke the silence.

"Dance with me before you tickle my back."

She held up her arms, beckoning me toward her delicious figure. I shuffled toward her, slipping my arms around her waist and onto her back as we began a slow dance with her arms resting lightly on my shoulders.

"There's no music," I said, on my second turn, "should I put some music on?"

"We don't need music, sweetie, just move with me," she answered, her hands tightening on my shoulders.

As we moved silently around the living room, I became increasingly comfortable, adapting my movements to hers, melding with her body as our limbs flowed in unison. When we 'one', Mom turned her face up into my neck and whispered, "Tickle my back while we dance."

I moved my hands over her skin, up to her shoulders, around in circles, and down her sides.

"Fingertips," she instructed.

I obeyed, arching my hands so my palms were raised, skittering across her sensitive flesh with just the tips of all ten digits. I concentrated on giving her the best back tickle she'd ever had. When I managed to apply the lightest of feather touches, she squirmed, pressing her front to me. It was such a reward to feel her breasts against me, or the warm surge of her pelvis, but the greatest reward was the primeval sound emitting from her throat followed by a more delicate, "that's nice" or "that's lovely" or best, simply, "ohhhhh".

Not that I minded feeling her body suddenly pulse against me. Although I knew as soon as she took off her jacket, I could tell from the press of her body that there was no bra encumbering her breasts and, looking over her shoulder down her back, I couldn't see any hint of panties either. And I looked hard.

She surprised me when she first raised her lips to kiss my neck. The first was very brief but those that followed were longer, sustained attachments of her moist lips to the sensitive skin under my chin and along my throat.

"Mmmmmm," she murmured, "you're so good at this I might have to reward you with a little friskiness."

I couldn't help the reactionary throb in my groin on hearing that. As if in response, she added, "But not as frisky as last night," before planting a long, sucking kiss in the hollow of my neck. When she finished, she whispered, "It's time for you to tickle me to sleep, young sir."

I swept her up in my arms and headed for the stairs. She gasped, and then giggled.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, looking at the couch and waving her arm in that direction. "The movie ..."

"No more chick flicks. We're off to my tickling lair," I announced as I took the first step up the stairs.

"But I can't fall asleep in your lair," she protested.

"And you can't fall asleep on the couch, either."

I entered her room and carried her to her bed. Gently, I set her down on her feet but she protested, "No no, I can't stand anymore."

"But your dress, Mom. You don't want it to get wrinkled."

"No, but I think it would be a little too frisky to remove my dress in front of you, and I can't wait for you to start tickling me again. So lay me down."

I picked Mom up and set her down on her bed. She rolled onto her tummy, ready for me to tickle her back. I had hoped she would remove her dress and get under the covers, allowing me to peel them back to tickle her back while she maybe really fell asleep, but no such luck. Oh, well.

I walked back to the door and dimmed the lights, kicked off my shoes and returned to the bed. Mom raised her feet up and wiggled them as I approached, "Shoes."

I removed her low-healed black shoes, undoing the thin leather straps that wound around her ankles and part way up her calves. I didn't hurry, taking the time to caress her legs after the shoes were off, using my fingertips to trace her muscle line up to the hollow behind her knees several times before laying her feet gently back on the bed.

"Some woman is going to be very lucky one day," she remarked.

"I hope I can make you feel like that, Mom."

"I already do," she said.

When I started to climb onto the bed, she cried, "No way, Mister. Not on my bed with those dirty jeans."

"Oh, sorry Mom. I'll go get changed."

"No. Just take them off."

I was stupefied. She wanted me to undress. But if I was just in my shorts, and she did look, how could I hide my hardon? I stood, stuck in my quandary until she prompted, "Come on, I'm not going to look. Just keep your shorts on." She wriggled on the bed, "Hurry."

Quickly I dropped my jeans and kicked them off, followed by my socks and then my shirt. I clambered up on the bed, took a few breaths, and ran my fingers up her back. For the next twenty minutes, I did my level best to regain the reactions I had experienced while dancing with her. I wished I was still dancing with her. I missed the feel of her reacting against me. As my arms tired, I lay down beside her, caressing her back and sides with one hand at a time, switching sides about every five minutes. She seemed to be in a trance except for her sudden twitches in response to a particular touch, which I could neither predict nor reproduce regularly. I traced my fingers slowly along the sides of her breasts, as I had before, but couldn't think of a way to pull her up onto her side so I could get better access to her breasts like I'd done when she was laying across my lap.

"You should have got under the covers if you were going to go to sleep," I whispered, the first words spoken since I started tickling her back. I was hoping to prompt her into removing her dress to get into bed.

"There's time for sleep later," she laughed. "I warned you. You'll have to work hard to make me fall asleep."

So this was just a warm up? She was planning on getting into bed? Maybe she's let me continue tickling her after she changed into a nightie, maybe while I was in the can or something. She'd surprised me before.

"I'll just undo your dress then, if you're going to bed." I reached up to undo the snap on the material at the back of her neck, the only part of her dress evident until the dress reappeared to cover her behind.

"Colin, don't get frisky."

"Oops, too late," I laughed, undoing the snap and laying the ends to each side of her neck.

"You brat," she laughed in return.

I started tickling her all around her neck, taking extra special care to reward her for allowing me to undo her dress. It may not have shown me more of her body but it was huge for me psychologically. While I was leaning close to her shoulder blades, concentrating on her neck, I suddenly kissed her back. Startled by my impromptu action, I covered up by raining a number of 'butterfly' kisses across her upper back. Mom used to give me butterfly kisses when I was little, placing her eye close to me and fluttering her eyelashes. I loved it and so, apparently, did Mom.

"Oh, that feels wonderful."

Music to my ears. I ran my fluttering lashes all over her back, along her waist and even along the edge of her dress above her bum. Mom clearly loved it. I began brushing my lips on her skin as well and tracing the tip of my tongue behind the path blazed by my eyes. I even traveled down her upper arm. This was also a hit and I included this in my path.

On one pass at the top of her neck, I reached up to grasp the opened ends of the dress collar, stretching them out on the bed beside her neck, and then pulling them under her arms. Mom didn't seem to notice this despite the fact that I had to feed the ends under each arm to pull them through. On the next pass, I grabbed the ends again and tugged them downward as I traced a fluttering, kissing line down her spine. Working around in a circle on her back, I could see that I had pulled the ends down to her waist, meaning the bodice of her dress must be at least part way pulled off her breasts, though I couldn't see since she was laying on her tummy.

I began tickling, fluttering and kissing the small of her back and toward the rising swell of her buttocks. I repositioned myself from her side to straddle her legs, allowing my chest to rest on her bum as I worked. All the while, I kept steady downward pressure on the neck straps. When I was done, the straps were beside her hips, and the bodice must be under her tummy, leaving her breasts completely uncovered. I moved back up to caress her long neglected neck and shoulders.

"Was it worth it?" she whispered.

"What?"

"Pulling my dress down."

I was caught! I thought she hadn't noticed, that she was too carried away. Was she going to make me stop? No. She didn't seem angry. She seemed more amused than anything.

To my silence, she said, "You can't see anything, anyway."

"I know." I paused, not sure what to say, then added, "But it was worth it."

By her reaction, I guess that was the right thing to say.

"Just to see what you could get away with?"

"No Mom. I just want to do the best job I can."

"Uh huh. You know, for future reference, you shouldn't try to undress a woman without kissing her first."

"I thought kissing would be too frisky." I was glad to change the subject.

"Maybe, but undressing without kissing is just plain rude." Mom lifted her right shoulder up and twisted her face up toward me, smiled, and closed her eyes. "Now give me a quick kiss to make amends."

With her eyes closed, I chanced a prolonged look down her now exposed chest, marveling at how sexy her tit looked dangling in the air above the bed, its nipple long and hard. I guess she was enjoying my ministrations in more ways than one.

"Come on, kiss me. You can sneak looks later." I couldn't fool my mom, even with her eyes closed. I kissed her, my mind swirling with the implied acceptance in her statement.

It wasn't a long kiss but it was a proper one. She pushed her tongue into my mouth and accepted mine when I thrust back into hers. All too soon, she flopped back onto the bed. I could feel my boner almost breaking with the pressure against my shorts. As I resumed tickling her, I used my free hand to straighten it so it was poking out the top of my shorts instead of painfully trying to poke out the bottom.

I spent the next fifteen minutes doing the best job I could on Mom's back. Every second minute, I leaned awkwardly over her shoulder to give her a kiss, each time exchanging tongues. I think Mom liked kissing because she never broke the kiss first.

The end of that time period was marked by a foray along the edge of the dress just above her bum. I held her hips while I tried to slide the dress down to free new skin to caress. I was elated when it slipped down her hips an inch baring enough to show the very top of her crack. I was further elated when no reprimand about getting too frisky followed, not even a curt 'Colin'.

Encouraged, I slipped her dress down another inch, eyes fluttering, fingers tickling, and lips caressing across the top of her butt and around the curve of her hips. Soon, I had the dress near the crest of her buttocks but at this point my fear of a stop action command forced me back to the small of her back where I brushed my lips across the small blonde hairs standing up from her skin. Clearly, this was a hit as Mom's legs moved about, bending at the knees and slowly stretching out again, again and again as I circled my face along her waist, up across the rise of her butt, and back into the hollow of her back.

While skittering across her butt, I noticed something about her long black dress. It was made of stretchy material. Mom was able to bend her knees despite how tightly the dress hugged her figure. The writhing of her legs had forced the hem higher and higher and as I watched her bend her knees again, it rode above her knees. A horny thought immediately flooded my mind. Instead of trying to pull the dress down over Mom's prominent cheeks, I could work with her moving legs and push it up her thighs.

The next time she bent her knees, I placed my own knee between hers so she couldn't close her legs when she straightened them and when she bent her legs open again, I shifted my knee closer to her open leg. After several iterations of this, her legs were wide open most of the time, and the dress was riding very high on her thighs. I made my next move.

"I'm going to tickle your legs for a while Mom," I whispered.

I repositioned myself directly behind her, kneeling on both knees between her parted legs. I stopped for a moment to admire her open thighs before caressing them with long, loving, feathery strokes down to the backs of her calves. Steadily, I raised my end point until I was only stroking the inside of her thighs, from knee to butt, reaching under her dress to reach the crease at the top of her legs on each side, near her pussy.

Mom didn't react at all. She simply lay there breathing regularly. On each stroke up near forbidden skin I pressed her legs outward, pushing her dress ever higher. Her legs were now splayed wide open, her feet pointing out with the insteps flat on the mattress.

"Tense your legs, Mom," I whispered softly. "It will make the tickling more intense."

Mom complied silently. I could feel her muscles tense under my fingers. As she went rigid, I lifted her, pushing my knees under her thighs.

"Use your toes to hold yourself up," I commanded in my soft, whispering voice.

"Stand on your toes," I repeated.

Mom turned her toes straight down and dug them into the mattress. I lowered my lifting hands, setting her down on the tops of my thighs. I returned my fingertips to her back and renewed my attack there. As I leaned forward to reach her shoulders, my shorts, the tip of my cock preceding, pressed against her bum, still partly covered by the dress. Again, there was no reaction. I moved my hands up and down her back, leaning forward often to brush my lips on her skin, thrilling at the touch of my knob against her thinly covered bottom.

Suddenly, I straightened up and slid my hands up and down her legs once more but after a few strokes I accomplished my real intention -- I slid my shorts down to my knees. Once more I leaned forward to caress her back, allowing my now completely free and naked cock to press against her dress. To my delight, as I slid my hands along her sides, I was able to reach underneath because her raised pelvis was resting on my thighs. I pushed my hands under onto her tummy and slid them up, running them along the side of her breasts.

"Mmmmm," Mom purred, "I wondered when you were going to get frisky."

"Haven't I done a good job?" I whispered back. "Shouldn't I be allowed a little friskiness?"

"Yes you have. A wee bit then," she answered.

I didn't waste any time. I leaned forward right then to kiss her, slipping my hands under to cup her tits in my palms, squeezing gently. I don't think she noticed my cock poking harder against her butt, hard enough that it slid under her, between her legs. I tried to kiss her for as long as I could so I could keep feeling her tits and pressing my cock between her legs. She must have been aware of its presence, but she didn't object.

When I broke the kiss, I gulped in more air and promptly engaged her in another long kiss. After that, I pulled back, straightening up to rest my hands on her hips.

"Thanks Mom, that was awesome."

Mom didn't answer. She simply buried her head further into the bed and wiggled her back, waiting for me to start tickling again.

I slid my hands underneath her legs once more, along her thighs until I reached the inside of her pelvis on either side of her most secret place, my hands palms up. I pressed up, lifting her slightly, pulled her back higher on my thighs and lowered her again. My cock still rested between her legs but now it was further in, still with no objection.

I looked down at Mom's beautiful back, her dress piled up on her raised ass and her head buried in the mattress, her legs splayed out widely on the bed. Dropping my hands to her hips, I slid her dress up and over her bum, pushing it into a pile on her lower back. Before skittering my hands across her bottom, I admired the shape of her cheeks, standing up prominently, dented in the sides like an older style corvette.

I loved the look of her ass. I couldn't help leaning down to kiss each cheek, and then run the tip of my tongue along her crack from the bottom to the top and down into the hollow of her back.

"Colin," she whispered, barely audible, her voice muffled by the mattress.

Time to back off. I stroked her legs again. Her entire ass was now bare before me, and she was laying on my bare cock, even though her dress, pinched between, still separated us. I felt her relax as the 'dangerous' moment passed.

"Come on, Mom," I whispered, my throat dry, trying to keep her mind off my actions, "stay up on your toes. It's better for tickling."

Mom's legs stiffened again as her toes dug into the mattress, complying with my request. I stroked her legs for a few moments more and then leaned forward, running my hands along her waist again before dipping them under to grasp her tits. This time I pinched her nipples and stretched them toward the mattress. They were already very hard and long. I pressed my mouth to Mom's and pushed my tongue inside for the longest kiss of the night, kneading her tits the whole time. The other thing I did was to move my cock just the slightest bit, back and forth. I tried hard to find that point where I could rub it against her but not so much that she would have to react.

I guess I found the right spot because when the kiss ended, she didn't say anything as I lay there except, "I thought you were supposed to be tickling me."

Dutifully, I rose up and began tickling her shoulders once more, but it was only a moment before my hands again found themselves on her ass. I openly squeezed and rubbed her cheeks, kneading them like dough. I let my thumbs slide down the inside, poking underneath to rub the bottom of her pussy lips.

"Colin."

I pulled my hands out and slipped them around to the outside of her hips, safe territory. She relaxed again. When I slid my hands up on their journey along her sides to her tits, my allowed area of friskiness, I held onto the hem of her dress. I don't think Mom noticed the dress sliding up her front, tugging itself free from the pinch hold between her tummy and my cock. But I did. As I grasped her tits and pinched her nipples, my cock sent shock waves to my brain in reaction to the warm moist skin it was now in direct contact with. Mom's pussy lips were right on my very hard, bare cock.

Immediately, I launched into a long kiss but my mind wasn't on her mouth or her exquisitely elongated nipples, it was on the slippery feel of her pussy as I repeated the illicit, almost subliminal rubbing of my cock along its length. How could she not feel it? She must. She must be letting me. I couldn't help rubbing harder at that thought and then screaming at myself, 'Don't ruin it!'

Finally, I could kiss her no longer. I gulped in air, gasping, excited beyond belief.

"Colin." Mom's voice was only audible because I was only an inch away from her mouth. It sounded almost desperate, a cry in the dark.

At that moment, still gripping her tits, unconsciously rolling and tugging her nipples, I pulled my rigid, rigid cock back and pushed it forward, forcing its head into her pussy. As she gasped loudly, I cried, inanely, "On your toes, Mom ... on your toes," and pushed my cock all the way in.

She moaned the whole time I was shoving it in. It couldn't have been long but it seemed like forever. The warm, wet feel of my shaft running along that slippery, yet clinging channel. I'll never forget it, or the sound of her as I pushed home for the first time.

"Push back, push back," I yelled, urging her to resist, seeing her shove her hands against the headboard.

I pulled back, her body following as she shoved against the headboard, her cunt still enveloping me. Forward I lunged, her breath expelling with the force of my own shove. Back and forth we fought, no more talking, breathing heavily, raggedly, moaning and grunting. I was surprised how long I lasted. I never wanted to stop. It was wonderful. She was wonderful, the feel of her, thrilling. But finally, I found myself bursting, emptying, falling on her, forcing her flat on the mattress, gasping on her back.

As I recovered my breath, I kissed her. Many kisses.

"I love you, Mom, I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

Stupidly, I replied, "You're not asleep?"

"Are you kidding?" she answered.

"Does this mean I have to keep tickling?"

"Of course," she laughed.

My cock, still buried deep inside her, began to harden.

"Did I tell you I love you, Mom?"

"Yessss," she whispered, "but I want you to show me again."

"One more tickle from behind, and then I'll do the front, OK?"

"Ok."

"Will you let me sneak a peak then?" I laughed in her ear, "or will that be too frisky?"

"Brat," she said, followed by a little moan as I ground my cock deep into her, rolling it from side to side. "Stop talking now ... just fuck me ... that's it baby ... ohhhhhh ... fuck me ... unngghhh ... fuck me you little brat."

I just had to get my Dad to go camping even more.
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I wanked myself for the first time in ages after reading Colin's letter. I made sure the cameras would record before going to bed, in case I slept in. I didn't want to miss anything.
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