Incest/Taboo The Mom Memories

Mom was breathing very quickly now and regularly pulsing her hips against my leg. She was moaning softly in time with the woman on the video who was now groaning and rubbing herself on her son's hand, rocking hard enough that I could hear the chair legs scraping against the floor. The camera was switching between her sex consumed face to her son's hand vigorously frigging her shimmery green panties. It wasn't going to be long now, I thought.

That thought had barely bubbled up in my consciousness when the mother came loudly on the screen, her hand finally directly acknowledging her son as she grasped his and held it hard to her pussy, her hips bucking furiously against it. At the same time Mom, though silently, began lunging against my leg and I could feel a sudden extra dampness as the muscles in her whole body went rigid, releasing after thirty seconds or so in a long gasp.

She was still.

And so was I. I released her nipple and pulled my hand back and grabbed the laptop again, knowing my tit massaging was over. My other hand was laying awkwardly on top of her bare cheeks. I didn't know how to move it without calling attention to it so I just left it there.

The mom on the video was gazing lovingly at her son. She reached forward to grab the waistband of his pajamas, pulling it away from his tummy, her other hand slipping down over his shaft, tugging it free and toward her. Slowly, she began to jack him, working his cock into a rigid pole. Her hand would pause at the top to twist her palm around on his head before sliding down his cock. On one upward stroke, she turned her hand up in a cup and spit in it twice before turning it back down to work her saliva around on his head, and then down his long, stiff cock.

Mom was watching this as intently as she'd watched the rest of the video, and I was paying more attention to it than any other part. Her breathing had returned almost to normal, but was still quicker than usual. Then she did an incredibly erotic thing.

Mom pulled her left hand from under her chest and spit into her palm, twice.

Her hand withdrew then but I felt it a moment later, under the covers, grazing down the outside of my leg, slipping up over the top of my thigh and then moving higher, under the laptop, under the covers, on top of my boxer shorts. Her small, soft hand found my rigid stick, pointing down under the laptop and slid up its length, fingers scraping up both sides until she was at my root, folding her fingers around me in a tight grip. Slowly, she started tugging me down, as I had worked her nipple. I sprang out between the fly of my boxers, and almost came when I felt Mom's warm touch, the bare skin of her palm, slick with her spit. Mom watched the woman jack her son on the video, her head laying on my chest, all the while slowly jacking my cock, holding it pointing down to minimize the movement of the laptop so she could watch the woman there do the same thing to her son.

I was surprised how long I lasted. Maybe it was my Mom's expertise, keeping me from coming until it happened on the video. Whatever, that's what happened. The son on the laptop suddenly spurted all over his mom's tits, belly, panties and legs. That may have been what finally made me shoot but I think it was something my own mom did, maybe the light pinching and rubbing just under my head. Anyway, all of a sudden, I was sperming all down my legs.

"Are you going to join me again for breakfast tomorrow," the movie mom asked, smiling sweetly at her son.

"I can hardly wait," he replied, smiling back.

Mom, still laying on my chest, paraphrased her video counterpart, "Are we going to watch more movies tomorrow night?"

"I can hardly wait," I replied.

Mom turned her head up toward me, kissed my cheek, then swirled her warm, wet tongue in my ear.

"Neither can I," she whispered.

Mom sat up when I closed the laptop and turned to put it on the table. When I turned back, she was already stepping off the bed. She walked straight to the chair to retrieve her robe on and leaned forward to pick it up, her dangling breast creating a magic silhouette for a brief moment. Holding her robe in her hand, one shoulder still free of her nightie, Mom walked toward the door and was gone, leaving me to wonder if all of that had really happened.
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Mary was sitting up in bed reading, waiting for Paul, I guess. I had been so wrapped up in William's letter I hadn't noticed Paul leave or her return from the shower. Something was different but I couldn't put my finger on it. Paul wandered in as I was still scrutinizing the screen trying to figure out what my unconscious mind had notice that I couldn't see. Something about Mary?

Paul was drying his hair with a towel that was still long enough to cover his front. He smiled at his mom sitting on the bed, the smile of a man very satisfied with his life. Suddenly, his hand stopped in mid-rub on his scalp and the smile disappeared. He took three steps closer to the bed, looking at his mother, or rather past her.

"Mom."

Mary continued reading, ignoring him.

"Mom," Paul said, his tone more urgent.

He was about to speak again when Mary replied. "I know."

"The straps ...," Paul started to comment about the straps that were missing from the headboard but was again cut off by his mother.

"I know, Paul," Mary responded curtly. "We won't be needing those anymore," she continued reading her book as she spoke.

"Mom. I'm trying to be more responsible like you want me to, but it's still hard." Paul paused, then played his card which had worked so well up to now, "I just hope I slide back, that's all."

Mary looked up at her son, her eyes steady, "I know you're trying, Paul, and I don't want you to slide back either. That's why you're going to get rid of your comics tomorrow. You can sell them or give them away, I don't care which, but I want them gone tomorrow. Those straps are a toy, too, and we don't have room for any of that in this house anymore." The tone of Mary's voice left little room for argument.

"But I ...,"

"No buts. You're grown up enough now."

"Are you saying you won't ...,"

"No. But not everyday, only once in a while. I'm your mother, and I love you. We'll have a special relationship all our lives but it's time for you to move on. You have nothing to worry about. Lots of young women would be pleased with you in bed." Mary couldn't help glancing down at her son's large knob. "They might be antsy at first because that's quite a piece of equipment but you're gentle, and now that you've had a little experience, you'll have the confidence to get them to trust you."

Mary smiled, her tone shifting to a consoling one.

"Now, come to bed." Mary patted the bed beside her. "Tomorrow you can get rid of those comics and start looking for some lucky young woman to please with that thing."
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I was elated. Mary was turning off the tap and I was sure it was partly to do with me.

My elation lasted until the next morning.

I was up early, hoping to have some time with Mary before she started looking after my dad. She was already in the kitchen finishing her morning coffee, making Dad's breakfast and preparing his daily medicine when I arrived. We chatted cheerfully for about twenty minutes while I ate and had coffee. She looked beautiful even though she wore no makeup. Her complexion was fresh, her cheeks so rosy she could have just finished a half marathon. We didn't talk about sex, or Paul. I was patient. From what I'd seen last night, I just had to give her some time but I did confirm our date for Saturday.

Mary left the kitchen when we heard Mom coming downstairs. They exchanged friendly greetings as they passed each other. Mom was in a hurry, as usual, drinking her organic juice and a bowl of mixed fruit before rushing out the door with a coffee to go. Ahhhh, the harried life of a devoted golfer.

Left alone, I decided to read one letter before leaving for school. In the study, I started the monitor program, thinking I would review the bit last night when Mary laid down the law for Paul but evidently there'd been some interesting activity early the next morning.

I just caught Mary's back as she left the bedroom in her knee length cotton nightgown. Paul exited the bathroom in his shorts, turned to watch his mother walk away, then opened the bedside table drawer, retrieving a tube. Holding the waistband of his shorts, he fished out his bizarre cock and covered the head liberally with lubricating cream from the tube, let his shorts snap back and tossed the tube back in the drawer, then followed his mom to the kitchen.

Mary turned her head slightly when she heard her son come in. I was surprised to see how pale her face looked in contrast to the visage I'd enjoyed at breakfast just fifteen minutes ago. Maybe she had gone for a run.

"I'm just making you some sandwiches for lunch," Mary said. "Why don't you get us some coffee?"

"Sure, Mom," Paul answered, walking up to stand behind his mom.

"So we're still on the same page?" Mary asked.

"Absolutely, Mom. I'm getting rid of the comics today. There's just one thing," Paul added, stepping up immediately behind Mary, placing his hands on her hips, and leaning his head over her shoulder. "I'm just wondering why you don't want to be with me anymore."

Mary tried to turn around, but Paul held her in place so she leaned back against his chest instead. Paul kept his feet back so his mom didn't come into contact with the bulge in front of his shorts. Mary reached over her shoulder to caress his cheek with one hand.

"Oh, honey. It's not that. It's just that I can't do this every day."

Paul nuzzled his cheek against Mary's. "But Mom, I love you."

"And I love you too, honey, but eventually we'll have to stop altogether when you find someone. You understand, don't you?"

"I guess so." Paul let his hands slide up Mary's side along her waist, then down past her hips and back to her waist, pulling her nightgown up several inches. "But, it will be harder for me to be cool with a girl if I'm all worked up, you know, from not being close to you."

"I know, dear," Mary said, patting his cheek again. "So, maybe we could be together once a week or so."

"Ok, Mom." Paul was agreeable. He slid his hands down and up again, caressing her sides, bringing the nightdress up yet higher. Mary seemed unaware that her upper legs were being revealed, her head leaning back, close to Paul's nuzzling face. "But I'm young, Mom. I'm not sure once a week will work for me."

"Oh, Paul. How about every four or five days then?"

"Every three days?" Paul bargained back. His hands slid down and back.

"Ok, but just for a little while and then only once a week."

"And maybe an extra, once in a while?" Paul ran his hands down and up Mary's side again, bringing her nightgown up so high it just covered her behind.

"Maybe," Mary replied without commitment.

"Like right now?"

"You must be kidding," Mary was surprised. "I have finish to these sandwiches to start work and start work."

"Ah, Mom. Just let me look at you, then, while you finish." Paul pulled Mary's the nightgown the rest of the way up to her hips, baring her bottom.

"No, Paul. I've got work to do."

"You can work on your sandwiches, I'm not stopping you."

"Paul, this is childish."

"Please Mom. Just let me look." Paul's voice sounded desperate.

"Oh, for goodness sakes. Go ahead and look then."

Mary's voice hinted at her frustration with him as did her sharp movements as she resumed making Paul's lunch. Paul watched his mother's behind jiggling to her angry movements.

"It's not childish, Mom."

"Oh, and what's not childish about it?" Mary angrily spread butter roughly on the bread.

Paul smiled, clearly enjoying the extra activation of his mom's behind. He said something else that I couldn't hear but it obviously agitated Mary even more and Paul's smile grew. He was playing her.

"It isn't childish to watch a woman's behind, Mom, especially if she's got one as nice as yours. Like it or not, I'm acting like a man now, like you said I should."

Mary couldn't have much argument to that and her body posture showed it, the tension leaving as her son's logic sunk in.

"You don't know how good you look, Mom. You probably don't know how it makes a man feel to look at an ass like yours." Paul withdrew one hand and once again fished his cock out, swirling his hand around its tip, making sure the lubricant was spread evenly around the bulbous head. He pushed his shorts down to his thighs and returned his hand to Mary's hip. What was he intending?

"I know how you made me feel," Paul whispered. "I wish you knew how that felt, that you could have been in my mind when I looked at you last night," he paused, "face down on the bed with your legs open and your bum raised, before ..."

"Paul," Mary cried, "you shouldn't talk about to me like that. I'm your mother!"

Mary was upset, her hands now gripping the counter, but nevertheless her voice was rife with excitement.

"I know Mom. You're my mother. You have a gorgeous ass, and last night you pushed it up to me, just before ..."

"Paul!"

"just before I came inside you from behind."

Mary gasped, and Paul made his move. Bending his knees, he moved forward between Mary's legs and then straightened. Mary's mouth flew open, as if the doctor had just told her to say 'Ahhhh' for as long as she could. Paul only moved for a few seconds, and then stopped. He was in.

He barely moved, letting her acclimatize to the size of his bulbous cock, holding her hips so she couldn't pull off, though that probably wasn't easy with a cock like his. But Mary didn't even try. Her mouth closed from its round 'O' but not completely, and I could see her expelling her breath in a long 'eewuuwww' before sucking it back in.

"I feel different, don't I Mom?" Paul somehow knew his mom was past arguing the fete accompli of his entry.

Mary nodded, apparently incapable of speech, or just not wanting to talk.

"No one else feels like this, do they?"

Mary shook her head.

"See Mom. We're made for each other. You feel exquisite, especially this way. Please don't ever stop me from doing you like this."

Paul's hips started moving in small pulses, Mary's mouth opening with each small thrust. Paul looked at the counter. Was he going to push her onto the counter, shove her tits onto the butter covered bread?

He turned his head, swinging his gaze around the kitchen to his left, eyes lighting on the kitchen table. Would he bend her over there? No. He looked down at the floor. No. His head swung to the right. Just the stove and the fridge. He centered his head, initiated a series of rapid shoves that made Mary's head flop around then stopped, slid his hands under her nightgown and up to grab her tits, ran another series of quick thrusts, then turned to the right, half carrying his mom ahead of him, impaled on his cock.

He shuffled Mary toward the stove, his knees slightly bent so she could keep her feet on the floor to help. As he passed the fridge he turned suddenly and pushed her against its door, pushing her arms up until she closed her fingers over the top edge of the door. He reached around her arms then to grasp the top of the fridge on either side, his arms spread wide, and straightened his legs until Mary's feet left the floor except for her toes which dangled down, barely scraping the tile.

Paul quickly lunged up on his tip toes, his leg muscles cording with the strain. He quickly repeated this, panting loudly along with his mother's moans, thigh, arm and calf muscles rippling, buttocks tensing tight and then relaxing until the next lurch. The fridge started to rock as he bashed his mom's pussy and tits against the door, bam, bam, bam.

I thought Mary was trying to pull herself up on the door, away from his brash invasion but on closer inspection I could see she was actually pushing herself down, trying to follow his cock as it withdrew before the next onslaught.

She loved it. I could see it. She loved her son's cock.

There was a constant stream of, "ohhhhh, unnnngghh, ohhhhhh, unnnngghhh, oohhhhhh, unnnggghhh," as Paul hammered her again and again. Not really fast, just steady, hard thrusts. Bam, bam, bam.

On and on. Mary getting louder and louder, her own face red with exertion. And then, suddenly, Paul stopped, cold. Mary was shaking on him, her legs quivering. Paul's knees bent as he pulled himself out. POP, and he stepped back, his cock dangling before him, wet. Thick, white cum ran down the inside of Mary's thighs, already almost to her knees, pushing beyond within seconds as more oozed from between her legs.

Watching it, Paul suddenly stepped forward, turned his mom's head sideways and clamped his mouth on hers for a long kiss. Then he stepped away, turned, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Mary still panting and hanging on to the top of the fridge door.

It was over.

I felt empty. School was out for today, I wouldn't be able to concentrate. I needed something that would take my mind off this. A letter. Not one from William. Too mild. I needed something with the promise of a good hard mother fuck. Something from Kevin? Maybe. Jack? Sure. Or Mark.

I searched but didn't find one by these guys and ended up reading a letter from a new guy named Craig.
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Hi group. I'm Craig, and my mom's name is Myra. Before I start telling you about us, let me give you a bit of background. My Dad and Mom have been together for 26 years, three years of dating with my father trying to convince Mom to marry him, followed by 23 years of marriage. I'm twenty. My mother stopped working just before I was born and never went back. They met while both worked at medical supply company, he in management and she in sales. Dad now runs one of the regional divisions. Looking at my mom, you immediately get the sense that she was a 'looker'.

My parents seem to operate in separate worlds and pass by each other cordially but as if they're living in different dimensions. I have always been closer to my mom, partly because his career has always been my dad's abiding interest. I went to work there one summer, against my wishes and I think Dad's too. I discovered that my dad still has a taste for lookers and has no end of attractive and ambitions young women, especially in sales, willing to provide the fruit. Dad didn't try to argue me out of quitting after only one month and agree to fund me as if I was working to stay home and write, upon my mother's insistence.

So I spent my summers at home, writing whatever I felt like, and hanging out with Mom. Although she never mentioned it, I think Mom knew about Dad's extracurricular activities and was hurt by it. Very attractive women generally find this kind of thing harder to handle but Mom didn't seem to care, and was more interested in ensuring that her life unfolded the way she wished it to.

Anyway, after that first summer, Mom asked me to accompany her to Miami Beach to visit her elderly parents over the Xmas holidays. Now, I would have much rather stayed home but felt that I owed Mom and I also didn't want to chance an embarassing encounter at home with my Dad and a 'guest' and becoming mired in a quandary of whether to keep it a secret or not. So I left the cold at home for the sunny heat of Miami Beach but with the dread of living for several weeks in my grandparents stifling apartment and hearing stories of my toddler years, and my mother's, for the fiftieth time.

As soon as we got on the plane, Mom seemed different, starting with the summery dress she unveiled when she stuffed her coat in the overhead compartment. I noticed the glances of several male passengers as she struggled to remove her coat and how they lingered when she reached up to access the overhead, but she seemed oblivious. She was in a mood to chat so I put my book into the seat pouch and waited for her to tire. She didn't, and was still yakking away when we picked up the rental car.

Instead of going straight to her parent's place, Mom stopped for a late lunch and a drink. I was surprised because her parent's would know what time the plane was due and how long it should take to drive to their place. Ten minutes late would require explanations for the delay but Mom insisted on stopping. And that's exactly what happened.

The afternoon and evening were painful. Nan insisted that I sleep on the couch which was a further pain since they were up by six in the morning. While Mom got to sleep in, I had to listen to gossip about the other tenants they'd known for thirty years or more and had been having the same beefs about for all that time, if my memory served me correctly.

The day passed slowly but fortunately, I was able to read most of the time after Mom woke up. Gran insisted we go out for dinner which was four in the afternoon, since he wanted to be home for the news and then bed by eight. At dinner, Mom insisted that they bring a cot from their storage room for me to sleep on in her room. Thank you, thank you, I signaled Mom, knowing I too could sleep in the next morning. Mom and I spent the evening watching a movie after her parents went to bed. It was a very nice time, Mom and I whispering during commercials in the darkened living room so as not to disturb Nan and Gran.

After the movie, Mom told me to get changed and into bed and then she would come and do the same. The cot was across the wall at the end of the bed, and I faced it when Mom came in to get undressed but she started talking to me as soon as she came in, complaining she couldn't hear me when I responded to her as she wandered in and out of the ensuite.

"Turn around, Craig. I can't hear you."

So I did. Mom was still dressed, walking slowly out of the bathroom, her head cocked to one side as she removed her earing. I was struck by the youthfulness of her figure, shilhouetted against the light of the bathroom light behind her. There is something intrinsically feminine about a woman removing her paraphernalia that creates a numb feeling in your chest if not an erotic sensation elsewhere in your body. I experienced that feeling watching Mom saunter out, dropping her earing on the table beside the bed before she sat on the edge of the mattress. She cocked her head the other way to remove the other earing and placed it beside the other.

Still chatting to me she stood, quickly pulled her dress up to the top of her legs and deftly slipped her hands up underneath and then down, in one motion sitting as she brought her pantyhose down to her knees in a well practised movement. Continuing to talk, Mom raised each foot in turn, pushing her hose down her leg and off her feet. It was a delicious thing to watch and the practiced efficiency couldn't erase the feminity of the moment and the realization that this wasn't just my mother but an attractive, and assured woman. I felt blessed to experience my mother in this casually intimate fashion.

With the pantyhose caught on the end of her toe, Mom swung her leg to the end of the bed near me and let it fall to the floor. She glanced up and our eyes met, mine spellbound and her sparkling with mischievousness.

"Nan used to harp at me all the time when I lived at home, 'How can you live with stuff all over the floor', it really used to bug her," Mom laughed.

I laughed too, hopefully convincing Mom that it was the discarding of her clothes on the floor that I was looking at, and not her beautifully curved legs.

Mom stood and reached behind to to unzip her dress. After a feeble attempt to undo the hook behind her neck, something I'm sure she managed to do all the time, she backed up to the cot and kneeled down in front of me.

"Can you unhook me, dear?"

I sat up in the cot, released the little hook and waited, catching her by the outside of her shoulders when she wobbled on her feet.

"Unzip me please."

Holding onto her left shoulder, I grasped the zipper and pulled it slowly down, past the back of her bra, following her spine to the small of her back.

"Thanks sweetie," Mom said in a soft voice as she struggled to her feet. As she walked toward the bed, she paused, slipped the dress off one shoulder and then the other before allowing it to fall, stooping and holding the dress in one hand at knee height. Each buttock was independently emphasized as she stepped out of the dress and then tossed it to sprawl carelessly on the chair near by window.

Mom turned her head sideways with a smirk on her face, as if to say 'Take that' to Nana, but she didn't turn far enough to make eye contact with me before moving slowly forward wearing just her slip. She paused again in the doorway and lifted the slip to remove her panties, sliding them down to her knees and then leaning against the door jamb while she pulled each foot out. The panties were simply dropped on the floor beside the door.

Mom stepped through the door to the sink and bent over to brush her teeth, stretching the slip tight across her buttocks so I could see the outline of her cheeks and the dark line between them. I saw her face in the mirror as she bent down, her eyes briefly making contact with mine and I blushed, realizing she knew I that had been watching her and that I was watching her now. Nevertheless, I couldn't look away, noting how her bottom moved and bulged as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other several times.

When she finished doing her teeth, Mom started talking again which at least gave me an excuse to be looking at her as she sauntered back into the room, looking gorgeous silhouetted against the bathroom light behind her. I tried not to let my eyes roam over her body but I'm not sure how successful I was with that. Not very, probably. Mom stopped by her bed and turned back the covers while she chatted away. I was happy just to listen, nodding and looking at her.

After a minute, Mom paused and said, "Can you cover your eyes for a minute, honey? I forgot to take my bra off. Just put your hand over your eyes," she added as I began to turn around.

Covering my eyes with my hand, I managed to peek through my fingers, watching Mom slide the straps of the slip off her shoulders and push it down past her bra. My hand was shaking as she unsnapped the bra and pulled it off, her medium sized breasts first flopping down and then bouncing back, slowly settling into a nice prominent jut from her chest. It must have felt good to be free because Mom sighed and stretched, arching her back in a long bend that emphasized the quality of her tits. Relaxing, she reached down for the straps to pull her slip back into place.

I immediately opened my eyes, catching her with one breast still free for a brief few seconds as she turned back toward me to pull the strap up on that side.

"Oops," Mom laughed. "Too soon, I guess."

"Sorry Mom," I apologized.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said, walking over to me and bending down to me goodnight, her breasts falling against the front of her slip, nipples pressing strongly into the silky fabric.

Mom walked back to turn off the bathroom before getting into bed. She continued to chat for a long time before finally going to sleep.

I tried to wake up early so I could watch Mom get dressed but when I opened my eyes, I was alone. I got dress and wandered out to find Nana and Mom having breakfast, both fully dressed. Gramps was already out for his walk.

We hung around until after lunch and then Mom said she was taking me shopping. When we got in the elevator, Mom punched the button for the floor just below us. When the door opened and closed, she flicked the switch to shut if off.

"Here, hold this," she said, handing me her purse and started undoing the buttons on her blouse. Shocked, I blushed and turned away. Mom explained as she undid the bottom few buttons on her blouse. "I can't wear a bra around all day in this heat, but you know Nana."

She pulled her blouse open and undid her bra, then awkwardly twisted and pulled until she was able to extract the bra. Though I had turned sideways, I still managed to get a glimpse of her tits, especially after she held her bra out for me to take, allowing me to turn a little more toward her. By the time she buttoned up the final few buttons, two few than she'd undone, I was almost facing her square on. Silently, I handed her the bra and she stuffed it into her purse before turning the elevator back on.

Of course, you know where my attention was for the entire afternoon. Mom dragged me shopping and tried on lots of clothes, inviting me to pay close attention to how well each dress, skirt, or blouse fit, a task I felt obliged to do with some degree of enthusiasm. By the time we went back to Nana and Gramp's, the blood was flowing easily through my veins. I had spent ours ogling my mom, at her request.

There was a large group of old folks in the lobby and a bunch of them decided to get in the elevator with us. We were pressed to the back, both of us holding bags of Mom's finds from the afternoon. I had gone to the middle, holding bags on both sides, and Mom stepped in right in front of me, moving back as more people crowded in until she was pressed tight against me.

We must have stood like that for a full minute before someone remembered to push the buttons. Having been primed by the afternoon's observation activities, it didn't take long for me to react to the soft feminine pressure from my mother's bottom. There wasn't anything I could do except hope for lots of raisins to get off on the first stop so Mom could step ahead and put some space between us.

Of course, only one or two got off on each floor, and we had to repeat the process of forgetting to start the elevator on its way at each stop. I was sporting a noticeable boner by the time the third group left. Though there were now four fewer people in the elevator, Mom hadn't given me anymore room. There were only two old ducks left by the time our floor was the next stop. Of course, they then reconized Mom and a little chat ensued. I thought I was done when Mom waved her hands as she talked, moving her butt around on my front. It was lovely and agonizing at the same time. I didn't ever want it to stop at the same time my mind was screaming for her to get her ass off my dick before I soaked us both.

Finally, I said in desparation, "Mom."

"Oh sorry, dear," Mom looked back at me. "I guess we'd better get going." She then leaned forward, not stepped mind you but leaned forward, to push the button for our floor, her ass digging against my inflamed member. When the door opened, I squeezed out from behind Mom and shuffled quickly down to Nana and Gramp's place, knocking on the door as Mom finally exited the elevator, still chatting to the two old ladies.

"Sorry honey," Mom apologized as she hurried to catch up to me. "They can really get going, can't they?" Then, looking concerned, she asked, "Did you need to go to the bathroom?"

As soon as we got in the door, I remembered that Mom wasn't wearing a bra and held up my bags to block Nana's view of Mom, commenting that Mom really had to go. Mom realized and I really earned some brownie points keeping my grandparents busy while she scooted into the guest bedroom to 'fix' herself. I wished I could have been there to watch.

I won't bore you with details of dinner and the early evening. Suffice it to say that, despite the long afternoon of watching Mom, I hadn't tired of it and helped myself to several eyefuls as Mom showed off her new purchases. After my grandparents went to bed, I settled in to watch some TV but Mom suggested we retire to 'our' room to read and chat about what to do the next day. I couldn't help running my eyes up and down her body as she walked in front of me.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, Mom started undoing the dress she had last put on to show Nana. I sat down on the cot and watched her, forgetting myself and just being used to doing that all afternoon. I guess it seemed natural to Mom too because she continued to undress in front of me, casually removing her dress and pantyhose, talking about this and that, not minding that I wasn't contributing anything more than the odd nod here and there.

Then an amazing thing happened. Mom went into the bathroom and wandered back in almost immediately, carrying some skin cream with her. But here's the thing. She slipped the shoulder straps of her slip off her shoulders, like the night before, but without first asking me to cover my eyes. As if it was perfectly normal, as if she were standing in front of Dad, she pulled her slip down to her waist and unsnapped her bra, pulled it off her breasts and slipped it her arms out of it, and tossed it on the floor behind her. For a moment, she simply stood in front of me, slip dangling from her waist, breasts jutting out proudly straight at me. Without any acknowledgement that this was inappropriate or a mistake, she turned sideways to face more than halfway away from me, arched her back and stretched so I could see the her right breast lift from her chest, and sighed, just as she had last night.

Mother fucker.

Slowly straightening up, Mom lifted the slip back into place but before turning around, she grasped its hem and wiggled her hips, pulling it up to mid-thigh, slipped her hands underneath, and pulled her panties down, bending over so she could step out of them. They too were dropped on the floor. Mom was now naked under the slip, and my cock was even harder than it had been in the elevator, especially now that that memory popped into my head. The way her cheeks moved unencumbered under that slip. Fantastic!

I quickly undressed and slipped under the covers in the cot when Mom went in to brush her teeth. When Mom returned and saw me waiting, she spoke, "No no, Craig, come sleep here with me. There's lots of room so you don't have to sleep on that awful cot. Just ruffle the covers so Nana thinks you slept there."

I balked. "Come, come," she hustled me, turning to get into bed herself, probably thinking I was too shy to let her see me in my boxer shorts. Which I was, with my boner sticking up through the waistband.

I rushed to the other side, pulled the covers back and backed in turning to lay face down to hide my erection. Mom plumped her pillows up and sat back to read a book.

"Aren't you going to read?" she asked, seing me laying face down on the bed.

"No, I'm kind of tired," I answered.

"Tuckered you out, did I?"

"Yes," I replied as Mom began to read, my eyes resting on her slip covered tits and nipples. Please don't pull up the covers, I thought. I fell asleep.
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