Chapter 01
Author's note -- some of this story contains scenes of homosexual activity
***All characters in this story are of legal age
How may I describe it, falling in love with my mother?
Of course, I've always loved my mother, but as a normal son should - with his heart and soul, not his body. Mom's beautiful, smiling face, with its wide mouth, full lips, and gleaming, hazel eyes never failed to warm my insides. Her arms, always eager to embrace, held me tightly against her supple body for as long as I can remember. For the entirety of my childhood, my mother represented a cocoon of nurturing warmth and support, the keystone of my world. I could not have been more content.
But now, something had changed.
As I remember, it started during adolescence, when I began to notice the opposite sex in a different way. At school, girls my age had developed curves and breasts, making my curiosity run amok. Even the younger female teachers didn't escape my attention. Soon, I was examining their bodies so much, I often lost track of the lessons.
"Billy," Mrs. Nelson repeated, breaking my concentration on the pair of erect, perfectly separated boobs staring at me, "do you know the correct answer or not?"
Snapping to attention, I blurted out, "Fifty-two!"
"Correct," Mrs. Nelson replied, leering at me slightly as she turned away, her round ass swishing toward the blackboard. She was correct in assuming I was not paying attention to her Algebra lesson. I was no dummy, though.
The first part (or parts) of the human anatomy that fascinated me were nipples - mine, and others. Breasts, too, but nipples, at least on me, were pleasurable to touch. I was amazed that I hadn't discovered them sooner. So obviously accessible, they were, and so much fun. Alone in my room, I would run my hands over my bare chest, pleasuring in the sweet sensations that it created. Eyes closed, I rolled the hard tips between my fingers, sighing as I imagined Mrs. Nelson's full, lush mounds.
My first sexual fantasies centered on breasts and, not surprisingly, sucking nipples. My best friend, Mike, introduced me to his stash of well-worn adult magazines purloined from his uncle. Within those wrinkled, stuck-together pages, I discovered the beautiful, erotic artistry of the nude female form. My favorite women, I soon discovered, were the plump ones, with full breasts and large areolas. I eyed their tits like succulent fruits and, naturally, I wanted to put them in my mouth.
Again alone, I would torture my nipples and fantasize about Mrs. Nelson. Of course, she now had the tits of a Playmate. Although she was twenty-eight at the time, practically elderly in my young mind, she more than sufficed in my sexual quest.
As we existed together, in some vacuum of nowhere, she would open her blouse, exposing her luscious tits to my hungry gaze. With a smile, Mrs. Nelson would beckon me.
"Come here, love," cooed her distant voice.
With intense excitement, I stepped closer, close enough to touch her beautiful body.
"I know you want them," Mrs. Nelson teased, pushing her tits out slightly, within inches of my face. "Go ahead."
Instantly, my face pressed against one of her soft globes, taking the nipple in my mouth. Like a hungry baby, I sucked powerfully on her breast as I inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume.
"Ahhh," my sweet teacher hissed, cupping her hands around my head, "you love to suck my tits, don't you?"
I whimpered into her breast, greedy for more of her ample tit. It was also about this time I discovered what my cock could do.
"When it's hard," instructed my more enlightened friend, Mike, "you pull on it like this."
Alone in his bedroom, our jeans and shorts down around our ankles, Mike patiently guided my hand up and down my erection while his other hand squeezed and tugged at his own hard cock. The throbbing sensation was driving me mad. My dick felt huge, more swollen than it had ever been before.
"Ohhh," I shuddered, drowning in a mixture of bliss and anxiety, "it feels weird."
"Relax and be patient," my friend said, sounding very authoritative. "It'll come."
Closing my eyes, I concentrated as a strong sensation built itself from deep within my body. My lips parted, and I panted as pure pleasure seared its way up the length of my shaft.
"Oh, Goddammit!" I grunted, face flushed with arousal, "It's coming!"
That gentle Tuesday afternoon, I came for my friend. Mike let go of my hand, his own orgasm taking him, as I beat out a thin string of milky, white goo across my thigh. Arching my back, another squirt lashed across the carpet. Mike pressed his face against my shoulder, shivering to completion.
"Well?" Mike panted. "It feels good, huh?"
"Yeah," I exhaled, spent. "Oh, yeah." That moment, I had achieved a level of satisfaction never before realized. My best friend and I spaced out for a few minutes of silent, post-orgasmic bliss.
Soon, the closeness of Mike's body and his breath on my neck made my hardness return. I'd never had sexual feelings for him but, at that moment, I was open to almost anything. Before I knew it, my lips brushed against Mike's ear, then his neck. It felt so good, so inviting. He offered no resistance.
"Damn," he whispered, "you're still horny?" I noticed his cock still bobbed at attention.
"Yeah," I breathed damply against his skin.
Mike pulled away, sitting up.
"Let's take these off," he said, removing his shirt, then helping me tug mine over my head.
Kicking the remainder of our clothes free, we slid our nude bodies up onto Mike's bed. Our throbbing cocks bumped together as we faced one another. In spite of my incredible horniness, I hesitated to touch my friend more. The idea of engaging anyone sexually, much less another guy, terrified me. Nevertheless, my hand reached out to touch his chest.
"You wanna come again?" Mike asked, rubbing his hand on my cheek.
"Are you kidding? Sure."
Mike pushed me back on the bed. Lying there, naked, exposed and vulnerable, my whole body tingled with arousal. I watched as he lowered his face to my chest and, with hunger in his eyes, lashed a wet, pointed tongue back and forth over one of my nipples.
"Mmmm," I moaned with pleasure, reaching up to grip his shoulder.
"Does it feel good?" He looked into my eyes.
"Don't stop," I commanded.
Obediently, he continued running his wet tongue over my rock-hard nipple. I became impatient.
"C'mon," I hissed, "suck on it."
Mike smiled and pressed his open mouth against my chest, sucking gently. My nipple tingled with sparks of pleasure. My bare ass writhed impatiently on the soft, navy blue comforter. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the feel of his hot, wet mouth against my breast. But soon, my other nipple needed attention.
"Now suck the other one," I said, poking my left tit into his mouth. Mike's body pressed against mine. His mouth pressed against my breast, moving gently as I nursed him. Mike's eyelids reflected the dim light of the room. Gently, his hand slid up my thigh, toward my aching cock.
I drew a sharp breath as Mike closed his hand around my cock. He began to stroke it up and down, up and down, slowly, at first, then more and more quickly. Moaning, I pressed my lips into Mike's jet-black hair. My hips began to undulate, synchronizing with my friend's unbelievably erotic touch. Suddenly, I blurted out.
"Kiss me."
God, what a faggoty thing to say! I thought I had ruined the moment, but my mouth desperately wanted some action.
To my surprise, Mike lifted his wet lips from my glistening nipple and pursed them. Immediately, I began to kiss him clumsily. My eyes popped open as he pressed his mouth firmly against mine and darted his tongue between my lips. I jumped back.
"What're you doing?" I sputtered.
"That's how my Mom and her boyfriends do it." He didn't stop pumping my aching cock.
"What?" I was not convinced. "Lick each other?"
"No," he squeezed my cock harder, making the glistening head flush purple, "they rub their tongues together and suck on them." A tiny drop of semen oozed from the tip of my penis. Mike continued again, drawing near my face. "C'mon," he whispered encouragingly, "you'll like it."
I already liked it. The sensation of his hot, naked flesh against mine, and the steady rhythm of his hand against my cock, was enough to make me come a million times. We began to rub our tongues together, the tips of our noses brushing against each other. Mike, more experienced than I, turned his head sideways and began to suck on my tongue. I closed my eyes and brought my mouth firmly against his, creating a strong suction as we lashed our tongues together. My hands clasped around his shoulders as we French-kissed with the passion of new lovers.
As we made out, I pondered how Mike would see his mother doing this. That thought was quickly dispelled by the pleasure surging up my cock.
Of course, it had to climax. I'm surprised I held out for that long. My orgasm rose up and blindsided me, forcing me to break our kiss. As my head thrashed back and forth with each come-squirting shock, my hips shuddered against Mike's firm grip. Before I knew it, I felt his mouth engulf my shaft.
I was too distracted by the massive waves of pleasure to react. I writhed and whimpered as he squeezed the base of my cock, and his expert mouth slowly drew up the length of my shaft several times. Each time he reached the end of my cock, his mouth would come off with a pop.
"This is something else Mom does with her boyfriends," he whispered.
Sweet Jesus, he must've been an expert at spying on his mother!
By the time I had recovered enough to open my eyes, Mike knelt beside me, his erection bobbing urgently.
"My turn," he said.
"Lay down," I instructed.
As he stretched out on the rumpled blanket where I had just been, my mind reeled with new thoughts. What would I do? Trembling with inexperience, I grasped Mike's cock and squeezed it, pulling the skin back tightly to leave the head exposed.
With that simple action, Mike groaned, shifting his ass excitedly.
"Ohhh, man," he said, "that's it."
Encouraged by his response, I drew my face nearer to his engorged cock. I was thinking a thousand miles a second. I could smell his body. Moving in, I brushed my lips against his shaft. Mike's skin was on fire as I felt the veins and ridges of his penis with my sensitive lips. I could also feel his cock straining and relaxing, impatient for my touch, wanting more pleasure.
So be it.
Opening my lips, I pressed my mouth against the base of his shaft, then quickly began kissing and licking my way up, up toward his glistening helmet. By then, Mike's hand had reached my cheek, brushing it gently, feeling with his fingertips the way my mouth moved against his cock. I had reached the top, so there was nothing left to do but go down. Slowly, I took the head in my mouth. Sucking powerfully, I bobbed my head gently, slowly inching my way further and further down.
"Goddamn," he growled, "you're gonna make it come."
Slowly, agonizingly, I worked my way down, slurping loudly, fighting my gag reflex as Mike's cock started pushing against the back of my throat. My hands rested on his groin as his hands clamped around my head. His body, rigid, trembled from my onslaught.
By now, my lips had reached the base of Mike's cock. I had managed not to choke on the twitching tip of his helmet buried in my gullet.
"Ahhh," He groaned, "don't stop now."
Thinking quickly, I pulled my head completely up his shaft. After a couple of false starts, I began lunging up and down the entire length of my best friend's cock. After maybe seven or eight plunges of my mouth, he arched his body, pressing his groin against my face.
"Ahhh!" Mike grunted again and again as spasm after spasm gripped his lean, young body. I really never had a chance to taste his come. He had blown his wad directly down my throat. All I had to do was swallow.
The afternoon sun cast a powerful shaft of sunlight through Mike's bedroom window, illuminating airborne particles of dust, landing directly in my face. Turning my face away from the intruding beam, I realized that we had somehow nestled beneath the blanket. Our nude bodies had melted together in post-orgasmic radiance. Slowly, I unstuck my body from his, unsure of what time it was and how long I had dozed off. My friend stirred, then jumped awake.
"What time is it?" He asked.
"I don't know."
Quickly, Mike slid out from underneath the covers, trotting naked to his desk. After looking at the clock, he whirled around.
"Get dressed," he whispered.
Just then, a door slammed downstairs. Mike's mother had returned from work. Within seconds, we had slid back into our clothes and straightened the bed. He opened a large can of Lego blocks and spilled them across the floor. I watched in awe as Mike constructed a skyscraper from the Legos by the time his mother poked her head through the door.
"Hey, fellas," she smiled.
"Hi, Mom," Mike replied, cool and calm. My hands trembled silently.
Mike's mother was no slouch. Like my Mom, she was a single thirtysomething, employed as a senior secretary in a large law firm downtown. In fact, his mother and mine discovered they worked right across the street from each other, and often lunched in the same drug store.
"What are you two doing in this dark cave when it's so nice and sunny outside?" Although her eyes were tired, she possessed a smile that rivaled my mother's. Her breasts were larger, though, and she was a bit taller than Mom. Perhaps it was due to her penchant for high heels.
I glanced at the hem of her skirt, which ended just above the knees. Her nylon hose added a dark sheen to her smooth skin.
"I dunno," Mike shrugged.
She gave him a look, tugging at the slim belt around her waist.
"I'm going to get comfortable." She turned to gaze toward me. "You're welcome to stay for supper, honey."
"Thank you, ma'am." I tried to quell the nervousness in my voice. "Mom's expecting me home, so I should be going."
"Okay, love," she replied. She gazed at me for a split-second longer than she needed to, in my opinion, then turned away.
After his mother retreated to the back bedroom to change out of her work clothes, he took my hand and guided me through the kitchen to the back door.
Placing a warm, wet kiss on my neck, his hand slid up under my shirt. His touch against my bare skin re-ignited my desire.
"Same time tomorrow," he whispered, playfully tugging my nipple.
I nodded.
"And don't beat that cock until you get back," his breath in my ear made me tremble with lust. "Save that come for me."
I turned and kissed his mouth, flicking my tongue against his. He grasped the back of my head and returned the kiss.
The following day in Algebra class, I gazed at Mrs. Nelson's D-cups in a whole new light. I envisioned her lying back, stripped to the waist. She pressed her tits together, looking up at me. Naked, I knelt over her, fully erect and ready to go. Mrs. Nelson's tits, perfect, magnificent creations, filled my body with warmth and wonder as I stared at them, unashamed.
No words were spoken.
My cock slid between her creamy, soft mounds. She smiled at me with her full, moist lips. Her skin radiated hotly. My hips began to undulate, my shaft sliding in and out between her breasts. My hands clasped around her shoulders as my ass flexed with each thrust. My thighs clamped snugly around her body as I found a satisfying rhythm. My hands rested over hers, my fingers touching the hard tips of her breasts. Suddenly, I spilled a healthy load into her valley.
Her erect, pointed nipples contrasted with the soft masses of her creamy breasts. Her dark, pink areolas puckered around the hard, red buds.
"Come to me," she said. I was hyper-aware of my exposed condition. The surrounding air caressed my skin, invading every nook and crevasse of my body, teasing coolly across my tingling nipples and exacerbating my urgently bobbing erection.
"Play with me." Her voice, pure silk, flitted across my nakedness. Lying across her body, I pressed my face between her breasts, rubbing it in a gob of my own come and the scent of her glistening, aroused flesh.
Rubbing my erection against her thigh, I began to kiss her breasts, rubbing my come-smeared face against her smooth skin, letting my sticky lips brush across her hard nipples. Slowly, my hips began to undulate against her. Mrs. Nelson sighed in an amused way.
"You need to fuck, don't you, baby?"
I replied by kissing her parted lips. Mrs. Nelson moaned, locking our mouths together, sucking my tongue deep into her mouth. With big, sloppy licks, she cleaned the drying semen from my face. I positioned my hips over hers. Mrs. Nelson's hands grasped my aching pole, guiding it home. Breaking our kiss, she pressed her lips against my ear.
"Push," she whispered.
With a slight movement of my body, I fell into the wettest, tightest grip of love I had ever experienced.
"Ahhh," I cried out, baring my teeth, arching my back as the initial wave of pleasure gripped my body.
Mrs. Nelson's hands clamped onto my ass cheeks as she spread her thighs wide, wrapping her legs around me. I sank even deeper.
"Oh, yeahhh," Mrs. Nelson cooed, "my sweet boy needs to fuck, don't you?"
"Yeah," my voice quivered, insane with lust. My eyes closed, my face lifted up as I pushed against my sweet teacher's body.
Mrs. Nelson moaned luxuriously, her fingers traced over my chest, stopping to tweak my nipples.
I inhaled sharply.
"Ohh," Mrs. Nelson cooed, "my little boy likes that?"
"Uh-huh," I exhaled, moving against her body with increased urgency.
With a turn of her head, Mrs. Nelson pressed her face against my chest, her mouth covering one of my hard nipples. I moaned as her tongue ran over my tingling nipple. Never had I experienced such pleasure. Pressing my face into her hair, I held on, thrusting madly against her body. The surge began. I felt it building, swelling up inside me. Mrs. Nelson switched her expert mouth to my other nipple, sending fresh sparks of electricity through the tender bud.
"Oooh...ohhh," I yelped as the wave built to a crest. Mrs. Nelson moaned her approval, delighted with my condition.
"Ahhhh!" I jerked and shuddered, out of control. Mrs. Nelson supported me as my young body emptied itself into her tight little hole, stroking her fingertips across my ass while I mashed out the last of my orgasm.
"Mmmm," she breathed, "my good little boy." My thrusting slowed, but my teacher needed more. "Don't stop yet," she instructed. I maintained my rhythm as Mrs. Nelson closed her eyes. Within a few moments, her pussy felt like it was trying to milk my cock. Biting her glistening lip, Mrs. Nelson let out a groan, wincing as her body shuddered like mine did only moments before.
"Ohh," she panted, "ohh, yes, sweet baby, YES!" Mrs. Nelson rubbed our privates together as she slowly and thoroughly milked the last of the come from my cock.
Falling into my teacher's arms, I kissed her face repeatedly as we snuggled together under the warm, soft blankets. Exhausted from coming and sublimely content, I slept soundly, my arms wrapped tightly around Mrs. Nelson, until my mother opened my bedroom door the next morning.
"Billy," Mom shook the sprawled lump of boy underneath the blankets, "time for school."
Opening my eyes I realized that, in my dream state, I had slipped my underwear down to my ankles and my still-erect cock was buried in one of my pillows. A cold sensation from the deep pocket of the pillow clued me that it was filled with come. I looked up to my mother. Wearing a pink, cotton bathrobe tied neatly around the waist, she towered over me.
"Okay, Mom," I choked, still establishing consciousness.
Smirking at her catastrophe of a son, Mom turned and left the bedroom. The moment she disappeared, I slowly began to untangle myself from the mess of bedclothes realizing, to my horror, that I was exposed from the navel down. Mom must have seen it all -- my nakedness, the erection, the come-stained pillow!
A flush of anxiety overcame me. Why didn't Mom say something, or was she too pre-occupied with getting to work to notice? I decided what was done was done, and perhaps my mother didn't mind. I wasn't going to mind-fuck myself.
In spite of that, my cock still tingled from the vivid image of Mrs. Nelson. I eagerly anticipated class that day.
After putting clean sheets and pillowcases on my bed and rinsing the evidence from the old bedclothes, I trotted into the kitchen, downed a glass of cold orange juice Mom had left for me on the kitchen table, grabbed my lunchbox and was on my way.
I'm sure I wasn't the only adolescent lusting after Mrs. Nelson. Other boys in class stared at areas other than her face and the blackboard. Her magnificent body needed no alluring clothes to accentuate its beauty. Her face was simple and pretty, nothing like I would ever see in one of the many blatantly erotic fashion magazines Mom kept in her bedroom. Even though, I spent many lone afternoons, before Mom got home from work, jacking off to her latest issue of Vogue or Cosmo.
Pulling down my shorts to expose my erection, I would lie in Mom's big, soft bed, sniffing the perfume on one of the pillows, milking my cock two or three times before I cleaned up and limped into the living room to watch TV.
Every weekday, Mom would walk in the back door at 5:45 P.M., almost to the second. Her routine had become entrenched over the years, almost longer than I could remember.
"Hi, baby," she smiled, her full, expressive lips stretching over a set of brilliant, white teeth. Mom had a slight overbite. Nothing major, but it made her mouth unusually fascinating, and her face all the more beautiful.
"Hi, Mom," I jumped up from the sofa to see what she had in her bags, and to give her a hug. Pressing my face against the fabric of her blouse, I again inhaled the scent of well-worn perfume. The same kind she had always used, one drop placed deep in the valley between her breasts. I had had the fortune to witness this ritual on several occasions.
Mom, as always, would sit on a chair in the kitchen, prying the low-heeled pumps from her aching feet. Sighing, she massaged her toes and feet for a few moments, then she walked slowly toward her bedroom. Once inside her bedroom, Mom would always pull the door to, but not completely shut. The alignment of the door on its hinges made it slowly, almost imperceptibly, creep back open an inch or so.
Until recently, I hadn't given it the least bit of thought but, as I said, things had changed.
Shoes off, I crept to the bedroom door, approaching from an angle that would make it easy to disguise my true intentions if Mom suddenly came back out. But I knew her routine well, most likely better than she. After taking off her clothes, she would go directly into her bathroom for a quick shower. This would usually take five to ten minutes.
I leaned into the beam of light emanating from the crack in the bedroom door. Instantly, I saw Mom, in her bra and panties, flash into and out of my field of view. Immediately, I heard the shower turn on. Happy with what I had seen so far, I reached out and gently pressed my fingers against the door.
Creeaak!
I shot back into the darkness, my heart pounding madly. Retreating into my bedroom, I locked the door. Digging one of Mom's used pillowcases from my dresser drawer, I sniffed it deeply, replaying the sweet, brief image of Mom in nothing but her fancy undies. Reclining on the bed, my other hand quickly freed my erection and stroked it, slowly and deliberately, as her body danced in my adolescent mind.
I came two more times before her shower was done. At that age, I seemed to have an endless reservoir of come.
Mom usually wore a demure nightgown in the evening. That day was no different. I eyed her sweet calves and bare feet on the thick, green carpet as she walked past me, turning my gaze toward the television the moment she spoke.
"What do you want for dinner, babe?" she inquired. "I have some steaks, or some chicken."
"Both sound good," I smiled at her, lamely, guilty of invading her privacy. "Whatever you want."
She disappeared into the kitchen, and soon, wonderful cooking smells crept into the living room. After about forty-five minutes, she called from the kitchen.
Laying out the plates and dinnerware on the kitchen table, I kept the moving image of my mother's body in my peripheral vision. Obviously tired from her long day, Mom's body moved slowly and deliberately.
"Watch out," her voice cautioned. Holding an oblong Pyrex dish with oven mitts, Mom slid past me, placing the dish on the kitchen table.
"Mmmm," I smiled at her, "that smells great."
"Hold up your plate," Mom said, picking up a chicken breast with a serving spoon and placing it in my plate. She then dished some of the roasted veggies beside the chicken.
"Thanks," I murmured. Mom shot a quick smile at me. Her expressive eyes made my insides flush with warmth.
For most of our meal, we ate silently. I chewed my food, glancing surreptitiously toward the top of my mother's open robe. Her skin had a generous smattering of freckles, especially in the summertime, when the sun had a chance to bring them out and lightly bronze her beautiful skin.
Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied, for the millionth time, the constellation of freckles from her throat, down to the deep, inviting valley between her breasts; the exact spot where she placed one drop of perfume, each weekday morning, before turning to the full-length mirror in her bedroom to primp her hair.
Then, slipping her stockinged feet into a pair of low pumps, she headed for the door. Grabbing her purse, she said a quick "Bye, hon," before disappearing for nine hours.
When she returned that evening, the scent of perfume would still be there. Only now, it had comingled with the natural oils of her skin, a tinge of perspiration and a hint of cigarette smoke. Mom had quit the habit years ago, but still liked joining her friends who partook on the roof garden of the office building.
When I was younger and less conscious about my mother's body, I would press my face into her breasts, hugging her tightly, when she returned home. This was before her breasts had become sexualized in my young mind. That melding of scents filled my nostrils and haunt me to this day.
Now, with my burgeoning libido, I don't hug Mom nearly as much as before. At times, though, she insists, and I get a heavenly whiff of that magical scent. There have been times when I wanted to stand there, my face planted firmly in her soft cleavage, and rub my nose against her warm skin. Mom would gently rock me, side to side, and stroke my hair as I inhaled deeply.
"What?" Mom asked.
I looked up from the freckles to see her brow furrow inquisitively. Busted. Lamely, I sat back in my chair. "Nothing," I replied.
"Do I have something on me?" Mom gazed down at her valley, flanked by the lapels of her dark green robe. Tugging at the robe slightly, she revealed a few extra inches of breast, compounding my agitation.
Suffering a momentary lapse into honesty, I replied, "No, I was just looking at your freckles."
Mom glanced up at me.
"What about them?"
"Oh, nothing." I tried to wriggle free, but something inside betrayed me. "They're just nice."
Mom smiled suspiciously at me, as if waiting for the punch line. "Oh, really," she smirked.
"Yeah." I had come out with the truth, now I felt compelled to defend it. "They're nice." I resumed eating.
Snoring, Mom replied. "you're nuts." But the way she said it indicated Mom had been pleasantly flattered. She couldn't acknowledge it, though.
Briefly, I glanced up from my food and our eyes met. Immediately, we looked back to our plates, retreating into the noise of our utensils, which had become more noticeable. After several uneasy minutes, Mom broke the silence.
"There will be a lot more of them this summer," she said.
"What?" I asked.
Mom smiled again, nearly laughing at me. "Freckles, you dummy." She tugged at her robe, opening it even wider. If she wanted to talk about her freckles, I was more than willing to oblige.
"Hmm," I said facetiously, raising my eyebrows. "More to see."
I could never be certain, but I suspected that Mom rarely received any compliments, especially from men. She was pretty and nicely proportioned, at least to my adolescent sensitivities, but she was also decidedly middle-aged, and carried the baggage of having a son. Unlike today, factors like those didn't help her.
Turning her head askew, Mom gave me a sly grin. She acted as if no one had flirted with her in years.
"You little...," she paused, censoring herself, "you-know-what." Her skin flushed a darker hue. "What are you gawking at?"
I had made her self-conscious. Her only son was flirting with her. The nerve! Self-consciously, she pulled her robe closed and continued to eat in silence. Minutes passed without a word.
"You could use a sunlamp," I teased her.
Her fork skittered out of her hands, clattering against the plate. Sitting back, she sputtered.
"That enough talk about my freckles." She used the same tone with me as if I were five. "Enough, already."
Even at my age, I could relish the reactions and mannerisms of a woman. I had rattled her cage, but didn't want to freak her out entirely. We finished eating and I helped her wash the dishes. Not a word was spoken until I said plainly, "I love you."
Mom stopped, placing the dish back in the sink. Wordlessly, she took me in her arms. My face pressed against her freckles. I hadn't intended for that to happen, but now, I was overjoyed.
I raised my head and, before she released her hold, kissed her on the mouth. I cannot remember the last time I had kissed my mother on the mouth. So many years, it had been.
Mom jumped slightly, surprised by my unpremeditated action. Then she smiled, gazing into my eyes, and returned the kiss. She lingered a second more.
Longer than a mother's kiss.
Again, she hugged me tightly.
"I love you too, angel," her voice was low and cool. Turning back toward the sink, she said, "Let's get these dishes put up and go watch TV."
Our routine dictated that Mom recline in her brown, Naugahyde lounge chair while I lie on the shag carpet in front of the TV. Mom always made me lie at least five feet away from the 24-inch-screen console TV.
"You'll get radiation," was her excuse. A neighbor had advised her of the dangers of a large television screen.
We relaxed in silence as the light from the TV flickered on our faces. Although Baretta was fairly entertaining that evening, I found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the program. I kept looking over my shoulder, toward my mother, in her long robe. Looking at the corner of the TV screen, I could see the reflection of her bare feet and calves.
During a commercial break, she had gone to the bathroom, and upon returning, seated herself in different position. This time, she left her robe more open, exposing a silky leg and thigh.
I never saw how Baretta turned out, since I could not stop staring at her shapely leg. About the seventieth time I glanced over my shoulder to take another peek, Mom's eyes met mine.
"What?" Mom questioned, again, with an amused look on her face. I swung my face back toward the TV.
"Nothing," I replied quickly. I was appreciating your silky legs and want to kiss them all over.
Like I would ever have the courage to say that.
I lay there, still, only paying enough attention to the TV to recognize the "Movie of the Week" following our show. My cock had grown full and erect, so I had to shift my body around to keep from mashing it. As we watched the movie -- I don't remember a thing about it -- I noticed Mom shifting about in her chair, as if impatient. Or was it my imagination? The minutes steadily passed, like the constant dripping of water, until the movie was over.
"My," Mom spoke, jerking me out of my frozen state, "that was a long movie, but a good one."
"Yeah," I lied. I hoped she didn't want to talk about the movie. Mom spoke.
"Do you want to go upstairs to bed, or shall we pull out the sofa and go late?"
She referred to watching TV late into the night, which we did on a Friday or Saturday, until the national anthem played and the flickering images faded into snow.
"Sure," I said.
Standing, she began removing the cushions from our sleeper sofa. I stood as well, adjusting my now-painful erection as I helped Mom unfold the sofa into a full-sized bed.
"I'll try to stay awake as long as I can," she remarked, pulling back the blanket and fluffing the cushions.
She untied her robe and shrugged it from her shoulders. At that moment, the clock stopped. At that sweet moment, a vision confronted me that, initially, I had trouble comprehending. Mom, normally a woman of modest tastes in nightwear, as well as everything else she wore, was clad in a short, sleeveless nightie. The hemline stopped well above her knees, and the neckline provided me with the best view of her cleavage I had seen in years. The pale, blue fabric, while not see-through, had a distinctively sheer quality which allowed it to cling and flutter around her body lovingly.
I could barely make out the outlines of her tumescent areolas, wondering how they would look if her nipples become erect.
As soon as I realized the vision I was seeing, Mom disappeared under the blankets with a flash of silky thigh. As she propped a cushion behind her head, she lay back, sighing loudly as she pulled the blanket up to her chin. Nervous, I remained in the chair, but also wanted very much to join my mother under that thick, warm blanket.
For the next first hour, I remained in the chair, glancing over to my mother every few minutes. She had situated herself on the right side of the bed. The left side, completely undisturbed, cried out for a warm body to occupy its empty void. During a commercial break, I almost walked over to the bed. During another commercial break, Mom went to the kitchen for a glass of iced tea.
"Do you want something?" she asked casually, the backs of her thighs and calves retreating into the kitchen.
"No, Mom," I replied. Nothing from the kitchen, that is.
Nestling herself under the blankets once again, she looked at me.
"Are you comfortable in that chair?" she asked.
"I dunno," I replied weakly. Mom had made the invitation, so I could not refuse. Within minutes, I was slipping under the blanket, inches from my mother. Immediately, I felt the soothing warmth radiating from her body that was trapped under the blanket. Mom glanced at me, smiling.
"That better?" she almost cooed.
Much better, Mom.
I tried not to make a little tentpole with my erection.
My desire was to snuggle against her body, but I wasn't certain how Mom would react, so I watched TV for a little while longer.
With gladiators battling across the TV screen, I inhaled my mother's scent. Her body seemed to be manufacturing a little extra odor this evening. I knew she had bathed that morning, and I didn't find it unpleasant. Her usual scent was just a little more musky than usual. Once again, I found myself losing track of the television. I was concentrating on that odor emanating from her body. Inhaling, I breathed it in deeply.
The time that passed could have been hours but, in reality, was only thirty minutes. My penis still ached, having strained at full mast forever. The lump in my throat made it difficult to swallow and my nipples tingled against my tee-shirt.
A soft, whistling sound interrupted my torture. Mom had fallen asleep and was gently snoring. I turned slightly to see her parted lips and closed eyes. Now I could gaze -- at least at her face -- unfettered. When Mom fell asleep, she was out, and was not easily stirred.
I lie there, staring at the oak paneling for several minutes, until I reached for the TV remote. Extinguishing the glow from the tube, I scrunched under the blanket. Mom's light snoring had taken on a wave-like rhythm. As my eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness, I watched her body rise and fall with each breath.
Dammit, I had to get some relief! My cock was hurting.
Gently, I pulled the blanket below my waist, lowering my shorts to allow my erection to rise into the cool air. With my mother breathing only a few inches from my ear, I grasped my aching cock, pulling the skin back tautly. The pleasurable sensation made me shiver. With my other hand draped over my chest, my thumb and forefinger pinched a nipple gently, rolling it back and forth through the thin tee-shirt while my other hand began stroking on my shaft.
All the while, I kept a careful ear on Mom's breathing, acquiring a rhythm of my own to compliment her breaths. While she snored away, I masturbated in silence, gently tugging my nipple, thinking of her semi-naked body resting beside me.
Red and black spots swam in the darkness as I concentrated on the sensation burning in my loins. With Mom only inches away, I could not jack myself to orgasm as quickly as I was accustomed. Not that this was a bad thing. Alone, my impatience would have forced me to blur my hand against my hardness until a gob of come cascaded down the underside of my shaft. Now, I was forced to hold back and control the repetitive movement of my arm. My nipple tingled as my fingers toyed at it roughly. My mind focused on the pleasure. My mother's breathing and the pleasure.
In the blackness, I envisioned my exposed body nestled by my mother in the softness of the bed. I envisioned my hand as hers, with its slender fingers and manicured nails. Shivering with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, I pictured her mouth on my nipple, her lipstick-reddened lips pressed against my chest, sucking as powerfully as Mike had done only days before.
After an eternity of maddeningly controlled masturbating, it took me. The orgasm rose up, almost in slow motion, cresting in a gentle surge as I let out a whisper of a groan. But God, it lasted forever. I arched my back, clenching my teeth as I kept coming, coming to a peak. I felt as if my insides were coming out. I came and came, then came some more. I couldn't believe the intensity of what was happening as I lost track of Mom's breathing. I prayed I wouldn't soil myself too much, what with all the semen spurting out of me.
At last, the orgasm subsided. Lying there, for a very long time, I collected my thoughts, or tried. I had never had such a thorough, intense orgasm ever. It was like a cleansing element had gone through my body, removing all tension, spilling out the tip of my throbbing, purple helmet.
As I steadied my breathing, a cool wetness caught my attention. I touched my thigh and found a splotch of seminal goo. I also noticed another trickle cooling wetly on my other thigh. God, what a mess I made! Reaching behind my back, I carefully slid my tee-shirt over my head. Bunching it into a loose ball, I began to wipe the sticky mess from my body, feeling around carefully to see if any more come remained to be found.
Tossing the shirt aside, I sank back into the warm bed. Again pulling the blanket to my chin, I sighed as the soft fabric passed over my bare chest, teasing my still-hardened nipples.
I turned on my side, away from Mom. Watching the psychedelic pattern of shifting splotches return in the darkness, I listened to the hum of the air-conditioning unit in the hallway closet and the slow, steady rhythm of my own breathing.
Soon, I discovered that I was the only one audibly breathing. Immediately, my senses went on alert. Had Mom awakened during my orgasm? Did my jerking and twitching pull her out of a deep sleep?
For a moment, I stopped breathing myself, holding my breath, wondering what would happen next. The moment dragged on. Motionless, I tried to breathe as shallowly as possible, trying vainly to sense what Mom was doing right beside me.
Suddenly, she let go a long, rasping snore, making me nearly jump out of my skin. Mom had been holding onto a breath, like she had the habit of doing on occasion, until it forced its way past the blockage in her nasal cavity.
This indicated that Mom would soon be shifting her body into a more comfortable breathing position. As I expected, she began to move behind me. What I didn't expect was where she would move. I froze as an arm flopped over my shoulder, then a naked thigh slid over mine. With her tits pressing into my bare back, Mom resumed her slow, steady breathing against the nape of my neck.
Could this be happening? What should I do?
Again I tried to relax, inhaling the scent of my mother's body. My mind reeled slightly as I analyzed the situation and my potential options. Soon, the heat trapped between our bodies condensed into a pleasant dampness. My dick reemerged from its lair, swelling and extending against the fabric of my shorts due to the silky closeness of my mother's body.
Again, my arousal became torture. With a lump in my throat and an aching cock between my legs, I couldn't move an inch, much less masturbate, to relieve my affliction. Mom's body felt so damn good, I could hardly believe it.
Cocooned there with my mother, I tried, in vain, to sleep. My cock throbbed angily until pain began to shoot along the length of it. I flinched slightly, nearly frustrated to tears. I knew that if I extracted myself from her embrace, she might awaken, and I may never pleasure in the touch of her body that way again. So I remained, horny and hurting, trapped within an increasingly impossible situation.
Hours passed, or so it seemed. The cool air of the night halted the humming of the air conditioner. The vacuous silence remaining allowed me to hear the wall clock on the opposite side of the living room.
The anemic chimes reported one o'clock, surprising me. Surely, I thought it was almost sunrise, I had been in Mom's tender trap for so long. My right arm began to fall asleep. Soon, it was a numb, useless appendage, compounding my agony to the breaking point.
"Fuck this shit," I thought to myself. My brain raced, trying to find an agreeable solution to my plight. I couldn't make myself break free of my mother's hold so, in a moment of insanity, I took the boldest move I had ever dared.
Tensing my body, I turned a nearly-flawless 180-degree turn. Immediately, I faced my mother. Her breathing hesitated for a moment, but her arm and thigh remained draped over me. Thankfully, the blood began returning to my arm. I pulled my hips back to keep my erection from poking her in the belly. I squirmed a bit, trying to find a comfortable position. I knew that, eventually, my left arm would fall asleep, too, so I had to make the best of my situation right away.
I entertained thoughts of pressing my erection into the darkness between her legs. No, that could be disastrous if she awoke. The trapped position of my arms precluded any careful touching or fondling of her body.
Through the spots in the darkness, I studied the details of her pretty face. With my face only inches from hers, I could see the line that eluded my more distant scrutiny. Passing my eyes down, past her chin and fleshy throat, I gazed at her chest. As I focused on them, my eyes fighting to perceive detail in the darkness, I found a wonderful surprise.
It may have happened when Mom flopped over on me. A couple of her buttons had popped open, and peeking from the valley of her low-cut nightgown was a beautiful, red areola, topped by an erect nipple. My brain stopped its buzzing and settled on my wonderful discovery. The nipple was a healthy size, about the same as the tip of my little finger, and was surrounded by a puckered areola the size of a silver dollar.
My loins simmered as I focused on her exposed breast, memorizing every minute detail. I didn't know how much time would pass before I would see it again, so I catalogued as much information as I could.
With the present situation, I knew I would not be going back to sleep. My mind struggled with what to do next. Should I stay clear and merely observe my mother's exposed state, or should I take advantage of my situation and risk catastrophe?
Mom shifted again, returning to her back, leaving me semi-exposed as the blankets slid down to below our waists. Her lovely breast retreated behind the sheer fabric, leaving her cleavage fully exposed. I remained motionless, gazing down to study what the lowered blanket had revealed. The nightie had bunched up somewhat, right around her hips.
Before I had a chance to think further, I looked up to meet my mother's gaze. I took a sharp breath, startled, but her loving eyes and smile calmed me somewhat.
Then the world opened up for me.
With a gentle tug, she pulled the nightie open, revealing her hard-capped breast again in all its glory.
I just had to.
No words were spoken as I shifted forward to press my face into her softness, nuzzling the erect nipple, then taking it into my mouth to nurse. Mom sighed, placing her hand on the back of my head as I reveled in her hard, thick nipple. My still-sheathed cock rubbed against her thigh.
Soon, Mom's nightie was completely open, revealing everything from her chin down to her sweet, curly bush. Our breathing had become labored with the pleasure that was being given and received. My hand rested on her tummy, an errant finger or two caressing the springy goodness just below her navel.
With a shift of her body, she indicated I switch to the other breast. Another gentle sigh mingled with my moan of contentment as I took the other nipple. By now, my hand was pressing firmly against her bush. The sound of my mouth feeding on Mom's tit blended with our breaths.
I felt Mom's hand tugging at my shorts. Without breaking my lock on her breast, I shifted my body to slide them, down my thighs and legs, to my feet, then to be kicked to the foot of the bed. Now my cock rubbed against her naked flesh.
Then her sweet voice broke the silence.
"Come here," she said, pulling me up to her face. Again, I gazed into those beautiful, hazel eyes. Of course, the darkness made them look black-and-white. After a moment's hesitation, our mouths pressed together, kissing -- gently, at first -- then more and more aggressively until our mouths locked together tightly, our tongues caressing in a moisture lock of incestuous lust.
As we kissed, I felt her hand grip my cock, squeezing yet another moan of pleasure from me as I squirmed with need. Our bodies pressed together as we made out like two teenagers on a second date. Shifting her body again, I could tell she wanted me on top.
So be it.
Breaking our kiss, I rose to my knees, kneeling between her now-open thighs. My gaze started at her face, then traced down her body, past her breasts, to her well-groomed triangle. Mom drew up her knees slightly, then grasped my cock again, guiding me toward her pussy.
"Push, honey."
With that, I slid my cock into the most incredible sensation I'd ever known. It took a few clumsy pushes, but Mom held onto my hips, guiding my body against hers, until my balls pressed against her taint.
"Is this okay?" She whispered. Writhing against her, I nodded, whimpering slightly.
Her movements precipitated mine, and soon we achieved a steady rhythm, our bodies slapping together in perfect rhythm in the dark coolness of the living room. Nervousness kept me from coming too soon, and I didn't know if this was a one-time experience, so I savored it all I could.
I watched her breasts jiggle with each thrust, glancing up at her face, no longer smiling, but still beautiful with closed lids and parted lips, panting with our intercourse.
For several minutes, our bodies collided. The odor of sweat and sex permeated my nostrils and I finally started approaching completion. That was when my mother's body jerked.
She let out a yelp, gyrating her hips and gripping me more tightly. Her pussy clenched my cock repeatedly and I knew she was coming. As she came, her fingers closed around my nipples.
"Your turn, son," she hissed as her fingernails dug into my tender buds.
That did it. Breaking down my reserves, I bucked against her harder, growling as come erupted deep into her womb. Again, this orgasm topped the last. This was more than masturbating, this is what sex was meant to be. I kept pounding away, both of us coming, until our movements slowed.
I collapsed on top of my mother. Both of us panted, covered in sweat, sex goo melding us together as I tried to comprehend what had just happened. Mom kept her arms around me, stroking my hair as I rested my head against her breast, my cock still inside her.
"Are you okay?" she finally whispered, as if afraid to break the spell.
"Yes, Mom," I replied into her breasts.
With that, we both fell into a deep sleep that lasted until late morning.
***All characters in this story are of legal age
How may I describe it, falling in love with my mother?
Of course, I've always loved my mother, but as a normal son should - with his heart and soul, not his body. Mom's beautiful, smiling face, with its wide mouth, full lips, and gleaming, hazel eyes never failed to warm my insides. Her arms, always eager to embrace, held me tightly against her supple body for as long as I can remember. For the entirety of my childhood, my mother represented a cocoon of nurturing warmth and support, the keystone of my world. I could not have been more content.
But now, something had changed.
As I remember, it started during adolescence, when I began to notice the opposite sex in a different way. At school, girls my age had developed curves and breasts, making my curiosity run amok. Even the younger female teachers didn't escape my attention. Soon, I was examining their bodies so much, I often lost track of the lessons.
"Billy," Mrs. Nelson repeated, breaking my concentration on the pair of erect, perfectly separated boobs staring at me, "do you know the correct answer or not?"
Snapping to attention, I blurted out, "Fifty-two!"
"Correct," Mrs. Nelson replied, leering at me slightly as she turned away, her round ass swishing toward the blackboard. She was correct in assuming I was not paying attention to her Algebra lesson. I was no dummy, though.
The first part (or parts) of the human anatomy that fascinated me were nipples - mine, and others. Breasts, too, but nipples, at least on me, were pleasurable to touch. I was amazed that I hadn't discovered them sooner. So obviously accessible, they were, and so much fun. Alone in my room, I would run my hands over my bare chest, pleasuring in the sweet sensations that it created. Eyes closed, I rolled the hard tips between my fingers, sighing as I imagined Mrs. Nelson's full, lush mounds.
My first sexual fantasies centered on breasts and, not surprisingly, sucking nipples. My best friend, Mike, introduced me to his stash of well-worn adult magazines purloined from his uncle. Within those wrinkled, stuck-together pages, I discovered the beautiful, erotic artistry of the nude female form. My favorite women, I soon discovered, were the plump ones, with full breasts and large areolas. I eyed their tits like succulent fruits and, naturally, I wanted to put them in my mouth.
Again alone, I would torture my nipples and fantasize about Mrs. Nelson. Of course, she now had the tits of a Playmate. Although she was twenty-eight at the time, practically elderly in my young mind, she more than sufficed in my sexual quest.
As we existed together, in some vacuum of nowhere, she would open her blouse, exposing her luscious tits to my hungry gaze. With a smile, Mrs. Nelson would beckon me.
"Come here, love," cooed her distant voice.
With intense excitement, I stepped closer, close enough to touch her beautiful body.
"I know you want them," Mrs. Nelson teased, pushing her tits out slightly, within inches of my face. "Go ahead."
Instantly, my face pressed against one of her soft globes, taking the nipple in my mouth. Like a hungry baby, I sucked powerfully on her breast as I inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume.
"Ahhh," my sweet teacher hissed, cupping her hands around my head, "you love to suck my tits, don't you?"
I whimpered into her breast, greedy for more of her ample tit. It was also about this time I discovered what my cock could do.
"When it's hard," instructed my more enlightened friend, Mike, "you pull on it like this."
Alone in his bedroom, our jeans and shorts down around our ankles, Mike patiently guided my hand up and down my erection while his other hand squeezed and tugged at his own hard cock. The throbbing sensation was driving me mad. My dick felt huge, more swollen than it had ever been before.
"Ohhh," I shuddered, drowning in a mixture of bliss and anxiety, "it feels weird."
"Relax and be patient," my friend said, sounding very authoritative. "It'll come."
Closing my eyes, I concentrated as a strong sensation built itself from deep within my body. My lips parted, and I panted as pure pleasure seared its way up the length of my shaft.
"Oh, Goddammit!" I grunted, face flushed with arousal, "It's coming!"
That gentle Tuesday afternoon, I came for my friend. Mike let go of my hand, his own orgasm taking him, as I beat out a thin string of milky, white goo across my thigh. Arching my back, another squirt lashed across the carpet. Mike pressed his face against my shoulder, shivering to completion.
"Well?" Mike panted. "It feels good, huh?"
"Yeah," I exhaled, spent. "Oh, yeah." That moment, I had achieved a level of satisfaction never before realized. My best friend and I spaced out for a few minutes of silent, post-orgasmic bliss.
Soon, the closeness of Mike's body and his breath on my neck made my hardness return. I'd never had sexual feelings for him but, at that moment, I was open to almost anything. Before I knew it, my lips brushed against Mike's ear, then his neck. It felt so good, so inviting. He offered no resistance.
"Damn," he whispered, "you're still horny?" I noticed his cock still bobbed at attention.
"Yeah," I breathed damply against his skin.
Mike pulled away, sitting up.
"Let's take these off," he said, removing his shirt, then helping me tug mine over my head.
Kicking the remainder of our clothes free, we slid our nude bodies up onto Mike's bed. Our throbbing cocks bumped together as we faced one another. In spite of my incredible horniness, I hesitated to touch my friend more. The idea of engaging anyone sexually, much less another guy, terrified me. Nevertheless, my hand reached out to touch his chest.
"You wanna come again?" Mike asked, rubbing his hand on my cheek.
"Are you kidding? Sure."
Mike pushed me back on the bed. Lying there, naked, exposed and vulnerable, my whole body tingled with arousal. I watched as he lowered his face to my chest and, with hunger in his eyes, lashed a wet, pointed tongue back and forth over one of my nipples.
"Mmmm," I moaned with pleasure, reaching up to grip his shoulder.
"Does it feel good?" He looked into my eyes.
"Don't stop," I commanded.
Obediently, he continued running his wet tongue over my rock-hard nipple. I became impatient.
"C'mon," I hissed, "suck on it."
Mike smiled and pressed his open mouth against my chest, sucking gently. My nipple tingled with sparks of pleasure. My bare ass writhed impatiently on the soft, navy blue comforter. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the feel of his hot, wet mouth against my breast. But soon, my other nipple needed attention.
"Now suck the other one," I said, poking my left tit into his mouth. Mike's body pressed against mine. His mouth pressed against my breast, moving gently as I nursed him. Mike's eyelids reflected the dim light of the room. Gently, his hand slid up my thigh, toward my aching cock.
I drew a sharp breath as Mike closed his hand around my cock. He began to stroke it up and down, up and down, slowly, at first, then more and more quickly. Moaning, I pressed my lips into Mike's jet-black hair. My hips began to undulate, synchronizing with my friend's unbelievably erotic touch. Suddenly, I blurted out.
"Kiss me."
God, what a faggoty thing to say! I thought I had ruined the moment, but my mouth desperately wanted some action.
To my surprise, Mike lifted his wet lips from my glistening nipple and pursed them. Immediately, I began to kiss him clumsily. My eyes popped open as he pressed his mouth firmly against mine and darted his tongue between my lips. I jumped back.
"What're you doing?" I sputtered.
"That's how my Mom and her boyfriends do it." He didn't stop pumping my aching cock.
"What?" I was not convinced. "Lick each other?"
"No," he squeezed my cock harder, making the glistening head flush purple, "they rub their tongues together and suck on them." A tiny drop of semen oozed from the tip of my penis. Mike continued again, drawing near my face. "C'mon," he whispered encouragingly, "you'll like it."
I already liked it. The sensation of his hot, naked flesh against mine, and the steady rhythm of his hand against my cock, was enough to make me come a million times. We began to rub our tongues together, the tips of our noses brushing against each other. Mike, more experienced than I, turned his head sideways and began to suck on my tongue. I closed my eyes and brought my mouth firmly against his, creating a strong suction as we lashed our tongues together. My hands clasped around his shoulders as we French-kissed with the passion of new lovers.
As we made out, I pondered how Mike would see his mother doing this. That thought was quickly dispelled by the pleasure surging up my cock.
Of course, it had to climax. I'm surprised I held out for that long. My orgasm rose up and blindsided me, forcing me to break our kiss. As my head thrashed back and forth with each come-squirting shock, my hips shuddered against Mike's firm grip. Before I knew it, I felt his mouth engulf my shaft.
I was too distracted by the massive waves of pleasure to react. I writhed and whimpered as he squeezed the base of my cock, and his expert mouth slowly drew up the length of my shaft several times. Each time he reached the end of my cock, his mouth would come off with a pop.
"This is something else Mom does with her boyfriends," he whispered.
Sweet Jesus, he must've been an expert at spying on his mother!
By the time I had recovered enough to open my eyes, Mike knelt beside me, his erection bobbing urgently.
"My turn," he said.
"Lay down," I instructed.
As he stretched out on the rumpled blanket where I had just been, my mind reeled with new thoughts. What would I do? Trembling with inexperience, I grasped Mike's cock and squeezed it, pulling the skin back tightly to leave the head exposed.
With that simple action, Mike groaned, shifting his ass excitedly.
"Ohhh, man," he said, "that's it."
Encouraged by his response, I drew my face nearer to his engorged cock. I was thinking a thousand miles a second. I could smell his body. Moving in, I brushed my lips against his shaft. Mike's skin was on fire as I felt the veins and ridges of his penis with my sensitive lips. I could also feel his cock straining and relaxing, impatient for my touch, wanting more pleasure.
So be it.
Opening my lips, I pressed my mouth against the base of his shaft, then quickly began kissing and licking my way up, up toward his glistening helmet. By then, Mike's hand had reached my cheek, brushing it gently, feeling with his fingertips the way my mouth moved against his cock. I had reached the top, so there was nothing left to do but go down. Slowly, I took the head in my mouth. Sucking powerfully, I bobbed my head gently, slowly inching my way further and further down.
"Goddamn," he growled, "you're gonna make it come."
Slowly, agonizingly, I worked my way down, slurping loudly, fighting my gag reflex as Mike's cock started pushing against the back of my throat. My hands rested on his groin as his hands clamped around my head. His body, rigid, trembled from my onslaught.
By now, my lips had reached the base of Mike's cock. I had managed not to choke on the twitching tip of his helmet buried in my gullet.
"Ahhh," He groaned, "don't stop now."
Thinking quickly, I pulled my head completely up his shaft. After a couple of false starts, I began lunging up and down the entire length of my best friend's cock. After maybe seven or eight plunges of my mouth, he arched his body, pressing his groin against my face.
"Ahhh!" Mike grunted again and again as spasm after spasm gripped his lean, young body. I really never had a chance to taste his come. He had blown his wad directly down my throat. All I had to do was swallow.
The afternoon sun cast a powerful shaft of sunlight through Mike's bedroom window, illuminating airborne particles of dust, landing directly in my face. Turning my face away from the intruding beam, I realized that we had somehow nestled beneath the blanket. Our nude bodies had melted together in post-orgasmic radiance. Slowly, I unstuck my body from his, unsure of what time it was and how long I had dozed off. My friend stirred, then jumped awake.
"What time is it?" He asked.
"I don't know."
Quickly, Mike slid out from underneath the covers, trotting naked to his desk. After looking at the clock, he whirled around.
"Get dressed," he whispered.
Just then, a door slammed downstairs. Mike's mother had returned from work. Within seconds, we had slid back into our clothes and straightened the bed. He opened a large can of Lego blocks and spilled them across the floor. I watched in awe as Mike constructed a skyscraper from the Legos by the time his mother poked her head through the door.
"Hey, fellas," she smiled.
"Hi, Mom," Mike replied, cool and calm. My hands trembled silently.
Mike's mother was no slouch. Like my Mom, she was a single thirtysomething, employed as a senior secretary in a large law firm downtown. In fact, his mother and mine discovered they worked right across the street from each other, and often lunched in the same drug store.
"What are you two doing in this dark cave when it's so nice and sunny outside?" Although her eyes were tired, she possessed a smile that rivaled my mother's. Her breasts were larger, though, and she was a bit taller than Mom. Perhaps it was due to her penchant for high heels.
I glanced at the hem of her skirt, which ended just above the knees. Her nylon hose added a dark sheen to her smooth skin.
"I dunno," Mike shrugged.
She gave him a look, tugging at the slim belt around her waist.
"I'm going to get comfortable." She turned to gaze toward me. "You're welcome to stay for supper, honey."
"Thank you, ma'am." I tried to quell the nervousness in my voice. "Mom's expecting me home, so I should be going."
"Okay, love," she replied. She gazed at me for a split-second longer than she needed to, in my opinion, then turned away.
After his mother retreated to the back bedroom to change out of her work clothes, he took my hand and guided me through the kitchen to the back door.
Placing a warm, wet kiss on my neck, his hand slid up under my shirt. His touch against my bare skin re-ignited my desire.
"Same time tomorrow," he whispered, playfully tugging my nipple.
I nodded.
"And don't beat that cock until you get back," his breath in my ear made me tremble with lust. "Save that come for me."
I turned and kissed his mouth, flicking my tongue against his. He grasped the back of my head and returned the kiss.
The following day in Algebra class, I gazed at Mrs. Nelson's D-cups in a whole new light. I envisioned her lying back, stripped to the waist. She pressed her tits together, looking up at me. Naked, I knelt over her, fully erect and ready to go. Mrs. Nelson's tits, perfect, magnificent creations, filled my body with warmth and wonder as I stared at them, unashamed.
No words were spoken.
My cock slid between her creamy, soft mounds. She smiled at me with her full, moist lips. Her skin radiated hotly. My hips began to undulate, my shaft sliding in and out between her breasts. My hands clasped around her shoulders as my ass flexed with each thrust. My thighs clamped snugly around her body as I found a satisfying rhythm. My hands rested over hers, my fingers touching the hard tips of her breasts. Suddenly, I spilled a healthy load into her valley.
Her erect, pointed nipples contrasted with the soft masses of her creamy breasts. Her dark, pink areolas puckered around the hard, red buds.
"Come to me," she said. I was hyper-aware of my exposed condition. The surrounding air caressed my skin, invading every nook and crevasse of my body, teasing coolly across my tingling nipples and exacerbating my urgently bobbing erection.
"Play with me." Her voice, pure silk, flitted across my nakedness. Lying across her body, I pressed my face between her breasts, rubbing it in a gob of my own come and the scent of her glistening, aroused flesh.
Rubbing my erection against her thigh, I began to kiss her breasts, rubbing my come-smeared face against her smooth skin, letting my sticky lips brush across her hard nipples. Slowly, my hips began to undulate against her. Mrs. Nelson sighed in an amused way.
"You need to fuck, don't you, baby?"
I replied by kissing her parted lips. Mrs. Nelson moaned, locking our mouths together, sucking my tongue deep into her mouth. With big, sloppy licks, she cleaned the drying semen from my face. I positioned my hips over hers. Mrs. Nelson's hands grasped my aching pole, guiding it home. Breaking our kiss, she pressed her lips against my ear.
"Push," she whispered.
With a slight movement of my body, I fell into the wettest, tightest grip of love I had ever experienced.
"Ahhh," I cried out, baring my teeth, arching my back as the initial wave of pleasure gripped my body.
Mrs. Nelson's hands clamped onto my ass cheeks as she spread her thighs wide, wrapping her legs around me. I sank even deeper.
"Oh, yeahhh," Mrs. Nelson cooed, "my sweet boy needs to fuck, don't you?"
"Yeah," my voice quivered, insane with lust. My eyes closed, my face lifted up as I pushed against my sweet teacher's body.
Mrs. Nelson moaned luxuriously, her fingers traced over my chest, stopping to tweak my nipples.
I inhaled sharply.
"Ohh," Mrs. Nelson cooed, "my little boy likes that?"
"Uh-huh," I exhaled, moving against her body with increased urgency.
With a turn of her head, Mrs. Nelson pressed her face against my chest, her mouth covering one of my hard nipples. I moaned as her tongue ran over my tingling nipple. Never had I experienced such pleasure. Pressing my face into her hair, I held on, thrusting madly against her body. The surge began. I felt it building, swelling up inside me. Mrs. Nelson switched her expert mouth to my other nipple, sending fresh sparks of electricity through the tender bud.
"Oooh...ohhh," I yelped as the wave built to a crest. Mrs. Nelson moaned her approval, delighted with my condition.
"Ahhhh!" I jerked and shuddered, out of control. Mrs. Nelson supported me as my young body emptied itself into her tight little hole, stroking her fingertips across my ass while I mashed out the last of my orgasm.
"Mmmm," she breathed, "my good little boy." My thrusting slowed, but my teacher needed more. "Don't stop yet," she instructed. I maintained my rhythm as Mrs. Nelson closed her eyes. Within a few moments, her pussy felt like it was trying to milk my cock. Biting her glistening lip, Mrs. Nelson let out a groan, wincing as her body shuddered like mine did only moments before.
"Ohh," she panted, "ohh, yes, sweet baby, YES!" Mrs. Nelson rubbed our privates together as she slowly and thoroughly milked the last of the come from my cock.
Falling into my teacher's arms, I kissed her face repeatedly as we snuggled together under the warm, soft blankets. Exhausted from coming and sublimely content, I slept soundly, my arms wrapped tightly around Mrs. Nelson, until my mother opened my bedroom door the next morning.
"Billy," Mom shook the sprawled lump of boy underneath the blankets, "time for school."
Opening my eyes I realized that, in my dream state, I had slipped my underwear down to my ankles and my still-erect cock was buried in one of my pillows. A cold sensation from the deep pocket of the pillow clued me that it was filled with come. I looked up to my mother. Wearing a pink, cotton bathrobe tied neatly around the waist, she towered over me.
"Okay, Mom," I choked, still establishing consciousness.
Smirking at her catastrophe of a son, Mom turned and left the bedroom. The moment she disappeared, I slowly began to untangle myself from the mess of bedclothes realizing, to my horror, that I was exposed from the navel down. Mom must have seen it all -- my nakedness, the erection, the come-stained pillow!
A flush of anxiety overcame me. Why didn't Mom say something, or was she too pre-occupied with getting to work to notice? I decided what was done was done, and perhaps my mother didn't mind. I wasn't going to mind-fuck myself.
In spite of that, my cock still tingled from the vivid image of Mrs. Nelson. I eagerly anticipated class that day.
After putting clean sheets and pillowcases on my bed and rinsing the evidence from the old bedclothes, I trotted into the kitchen, downed a glass of cold orange juice Mom had left for me on the kitchen table, grabbed my lunchbox and was on my way.
I'm sure I wasn't the only adolescent lusting after Mrs. Nelson. Other boys in class stared at areas other than her face and the blackboard. Her magnificent body needed no alluring clothes to accentuate its beauty. Her face was simple and pretty, nothing like I would ever see in one of the many blatantly erotic fashion magazines Mom kept in her bedroom. Even though, I spent many lone afternoons, before Mom got home from work, jacking off to her latest issue of Vogue or Cosmo.
Pulling down my shorts to expose my erection, I would lie in Mom's big, soft bed, sniffing the perfume on one of the pillows, milking my cock two or three times before I cleaned up and limped into the living room to watch TV.
Every weekday, Mom would walk in the back door at 5:45 P.M., almost to the second. Her routine had become entrenched over the years, almost longer than I could remember.
"Hi, baby," she smiled, her full, expressive lips stretching over a set of brilliant, white teeth. Mom had a slight overbite. Nothing major, but it made her mouth unusually fascinating, and her face all the more beautiful.
"Hi, Mom," I jumped up from the sofa to see what she had in her bags, and to give her a hug. Pressing my face against the fabric of her blouse, I again inhaled the scent of well-worn perfume. The same kind she had always used, one drop placed deep in the valley between her breasts. I had had the fortune to witness this ritual on several occasions.
Mom, as always, would sit on a chair in the kitchen, prying the low-heeled pumps from her aching feet. Sighing, she massaged her toes and feet for a few moments, then she walked slowly toward her bedroom. Once inside her bedroom, Mom would always pull the door to, but not completely shut. The alignment of the door on its hinges made it slowly, almost imperceptibly, creep back open an inch or so.
Until recently, I hadn't given it the least bit of thought but, as I said, things had changed.
Shoes off, I crept to the bedroom door, approaching from an angle that would make it easy to disguise my true intentions if Mom suddenly came back out. But I knew her routine well, most likely better than she. After taking off her clothes, she would go directly into her bathroom for a quick shower. This would usually take five to ten minutes.
I leaned into the beam of light emanating from the crack in the bedroom door. Instantly, I saw Mom, in her bra and panties, flash into and out of my field of view. Immediately, I heard the shower turn on. Happy with what I had seen so far, I reached out and gently pressed my fingers against the door.
Creeaak!
I shot back into the darkness, my heart pounding madly. Retreating into my bedroom, I locked the door. Digging one of Mom's used pillowcases from my dresser drawer, I sniffed it deeply, replaying the sweet, brief image of Mom in nothing but her fancy undies. Reclining on the bed, my other hand quickly freed my erection and stroked it, slowly and deliberately, as her body danced in my adolescent mind.
I came two more times before her shower was done. At that age, I seemed to have an endless reservoir of come.
Mom usually wore a demure nightgown in the evening. That day was no different. I eyed her sweet calves and bare feet on the thick, green carpet as she walked past me, turning my gaze toward the television the moment she spoke.
"What do you want for dinner, babe?" she inquired. "I have some steaks, or some chicken."
"Both sound good," I smiled at her, lamely, guilty of invading her privacy. "Whatever you want."
She disappeared into the kitchen, and soon, wonderful cooking smells crept into the living room. After about forty-five minutes, she called from the kitchen.
Laying out the plates and dinnerware on the kitchen table, I kept the moving image of my mother's body in my peripheral vision. Obviously tired from her long day, Mom's body moved slowly and deliberately.
"Watch out," her voice cautioned. Holding an oblong Pyrex dish with oven mitts, Mom slid past me, placing the dish on the kitchen table.
"Mmmm," I smiled at her, "that smells great."
"Hold up your plate," Mom said, picking up a chicken breast with a serving spoon and placing it in my plate. She then dished some of the roasted veggies beside the chicken.
"Thanks," I murmured. Mom shot a quick smile at me. Her expressive eyes made my insides flush with warmth.
For most of our meal, we ate silently. I chewed my food, glancing surreptitiously toward the top of my mother's open robe. Her skin had a generous smattering of freckles, especially in the summertime, when the sun had a chance to bring them out and lightly bronze her beautiful skin.
Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied, for the millionth time, the constellation of freckles from her throat, down to the deep, inviting valley between her breasts; the exact spot where she placed one drop of perfume, each weekday morning, before turning to the full-length mirror in her bedroom to primp her hair.
Then, slipping her stockinged feet into a pair of low pumps, she headed for the door. Grabbing her purse, she said a quick "Bye, hon," before disappearing for nine hours.
When she returned that evening, the scent of perfume would still be there. Only now, it had comingled with the natural oils of her skin, a tinge of perspiration and a hint of cigarette smoke. Mom had quit the habit years ago, but still liked joining her friends who partook on the roof garden of the office building.
When I was younger and less conscious about my mother's body, I would press my face into her breasts, hugging her tightly, when she returned home. This was before her breasts had become sexualized in my young mind. That melding of scents filled my nostrils and haunt me to this day.
Now, with my burgeoning libido, I don't hug Mom nearly as much as before. At times, though, she insists, and I get a heavenly whiff of that magical scent. There have been times when I wanted to stand there, my face planted firmly in her soft cleavage, and rub my nose against her warm skin. Mom would gently rock me, side to side, and stroke my hair as I inhaled deeply.
"What?" Mom asked.
I looked up from the freckles to see her brow furrow inquisitively. Busted. Lamely, I sat back in my chair. "Nothing," I replied.
"Do I have something on me?" Mom gazed down at her valley, flanked by the lapels of her dark green robe. Tugging at the robe slightly, she revealed a few extra inches of breast, compounding my agitation.
Suffering a momentary lapse into honesty, I replied, "No, I was just looking at your freckles."
Mom glanced up at me.
"What about them?"
"Oh, nothing." I tried to wriggle free, but something inside betrayed me. "They're just nice."
Mom smiled suspiciously at me, as if waiting for the punch line. "Oh, really," she smirked.
"Yeah." I had come out with the truth, now I felt compelled to defend it. "They're nice." I resumed eating.
Snoring, Mom replied. "you're nuts." But the way she said it indicated Mom had been pleasantly flattered. She couldn't acknowledge it, though.
Briefly, I glanced up from my food and our eyes met. Immediately, we looked back to our plates, retreating into the noise of our utensils, which had become more noticeable. After several uneasy minutes, Mom broke the silence.
"There will be a lot more of them this summer," she said.
"What?" I asked.
Mom smiled again, nearly laughing at me. "Freckles, you dummy." She tugged at her robe, opening it even wider. If she wanted to talk about her freckles, I was more than willing to oblige.
"Hmm," I said facetiously, raising my eyebrows. "More to see."
I could never be certain, but I suspected that Mom rarely received any compliments, especially from men. She was pretty and nicely proportioned, at least to my adolescent sensitivities, but she was also decidedly middle-aged, and carried the baggage of having a son. Unlike today, factors like those didn't help her.
Turning her head askew, Mom gave me a sly grin. She acted as if no one had flirted with her in years.
"You little...," she paused, censoring herself, "you-know-what." Her skin flushed a darker hue. "What are you gawking at?"
I had made her self-conscious. Her only son was flirting with her. The nerve! Self-consciously, she pulled her robe closed and continued to eat in silence. Minutes passed without a word.
"You could use a sunlamp," I teased her.
Her fork skittered out of her hands, clattering against the plate. Sitting back, she sputtered.
"That enough talk about my freckles." She used the same tone with me as if I were five. "Enough, already."
Even at my age, I could relish the reactions and mannerisms of a woman. I had rattled her cage, but didn't want to freak her out entirely. We finished eating and I helped her wash the dishes. Not a word was spoken until I said plainly, "I love you."
Mom stopped, placing the dish back in the sink. Wordlessly, she took me in her arms. My face pressed against her freckles. I hadn't intended for that to happen, but now, I was overjoyed.
I raised my head and, before she released her hold, kissed her on the mouth. I cannot remember the last time I had kissed my mother on the mouth. So many years, it had been.
Mom jumped slightly, surprised by my unpremeditated action. Then she smiled, gazing into my eyes, and returned the kiss. She lingered a second more.
Longer than a mother's kiss.
Again, she hugged me tightly.
"I love you too, angel," her voice was low and cool. Turning back toward the sink, she said, "Let's get these dishes put up and go watch TV."
Our routine dictated that Mom recline in her brown, Naugahyde lounge chair while I lie on the shag carpet in front of the TV. Mom always made me lie at least five feet away from the 24-inch-screen console TV.
"You'll get radiation," was her excuse. A neighbor had advised her of the dangers of a large television screen.
We relaxed in silence as the light from the TV flickered on our faces. Although Baretta was fairly entertaining that evening, I found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the program. I kept looking over my shoulder, toward my mother, in her long robe. Looking at the corner of the TV screen, I could see the reflection of her bare feet and calves.
During a commercial break, she had gone to the bathroom, and upon returning, seated herself in different position. This time, she left her robe more open, exposing a silky leg and thigh.
I never saw how Baretta turned out, since I could not stop staring at her shapely leg. About the seventieth time I glanced over my shoulder to take another peek, Mom's eyes met mine.
"What?" Mom questioned, again, with an amused look on her face. I swung my face back toward the TV.
"Nothing," I replied quickly. I was appreciating your silky legs and want to kiss them all over.
Like I would ever have the courage to say that.
I lay there, still, only paying enough attention to the TV to recognize the "Movie of the Week" following our show. My cock had grown full and erect, so I had to shift my body around to keep from mashing it. As we watched the movie -- I don't remember a thing about it -- I noticed Mom shifting about in her chair, as if impatient. Or was it my imagination? The minutes steadily passed, like the constant dripping of water, until the movie was over.
"My," Mom spoke, jerking me out of my frozen state, "that was a long movie, but a good one."
"Yeah," I lied. I hoped she didn't want to talk about the movie. Mom spoke.
"Do you want to go upstairs to bed, or shall we pull out the sofa and go late?"
She referred to watching TV late into the night, which we did on a Friday or Saturday, until the national anthem played and the flickering images faded into snow.
"Sure," I said.
Standing, she began removing the cushions from our sleeper sofa. I stood as well, adjusting my now-painful erection as I helped Mom unfold the sofa into a full-sized bed.
"I'll try to stay awake as long as I can," she remarked, pulling back the blanket and fluffing the cushions.
She untied her robe and shrugged it from her shoulders. At that moment, the clock stopped. At that sweet moment, a vision confronted me that, initially, I had trouble comprehending. Mom, normally a woman of modest tastes in nightwear, as well as everything else she wore, was clad in a short, sleeveless nightie. The hemline stopped well above her knees, and the neckline provided me with the best view of her cleavage I had seen in years. The pale, blue fabric, while not see-through, had a distinctively sheer quality which allowed it to cling and flutter around her body lovingly.
I could barely make out the outlines of her tumescent areolas, wondering how they would look if her nipples become erect.
As soon as I realized the vision I was seeing, Mom disappeared under the blankets with a flash of silky thigh. As she propped a cushion behind her head, she lay back, sighing loudly as she pulled the blanket up to her chin. Nervous, I remained in the chair, but also wanted very much to join my mother under that thick, warm blanket.
For the next first hour, I remained in the chair, glancing over to my mother every few minutes. She had situated herself on the right side of the bed. The left side, completely undisturbed, cried out for a warm body to occupy its empty void. During a commercial break, I almost walked over to the bed. During another commercial break, Mom went to the kitchen for a glass of iced tea.
"Do you want something?" she asked casually, the backs of her thighs and calves retreating into the kitchen.
"No, Mom," I replied. Nothing from the kitchen, that is.
Nestling herself under the blankets once again, she looked at me.
"Are you comfortable in that chair?" she asked.
"I dunno," I replied weakly. Mom had made the invitation, so I could not refuse. Within minutes, I was slipping under the blanket, inches from my mother. Immediately, I felt the soothing warmth radiating from her body that was trapped under the blanket. Mom glanced at me, smiling.
"That better?" she almost cooed.
Much better, Mom.
I tried not to make a little tentpole with my erection.
My desire was to snuggle against her body, but I wasn't certain how Mom would react, so I watched TV for a little while longer.
With gladiators battling across the TV screen, I inhaled my mother's scent. Her body seemed to be manufacturing a little extra odor this evening. I knew she had bathed that morning, and I didn't find it unpleasant. Her usual scent was just a little more musky than usual. Once again, I found myself losing track of the television. I was concentrating on that odor emanating from her body. Inhaling, I breathed it in deeply.
The time that passed could have been hours but, in reality, was only thirty minutes. My penis still ached, having strained at full mast forever. The lump in my throat made it difficult to swallow and my nipples tingled against my tee-shirt.
A soft, whistling sound interrupted my torture. Mom had fallen asleep and was gently snoring. I turned slightly to see her parted lips and closed eyes. Now I could gaze -- at least at her face -- unfettered. When Mom fell asleep, she was out, and was not easily stirred.
I lie there, staring at the oak paneling for several minutes, until I reached for the TV remote. Extinguishing the glow from the tube, I scrunched under the blanket. Mom's light snoring had taken on a wave-like rhythm. As my eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness, I watched her body rise and fall with each breath.
Dammit, I had to get some relief! My cock was hurting.
Gently, I pulled the blanket below my waist, lowering my shorts to allow my erection to rise into the cool air. With my mother breathing only a few inches from my ear, I grasped my aching cock, pulling the skin back tautly. The pleasurable sensation made me shiver. With my other hand draped over my chest, my thumb and forefinger pinched a nipple gently, rolling it back and forth through the thin tee-shirt while my other hand began stroking on my shaft.
All the while, I kept a careful ear on Mom's breathing, acquiring a rhythm of my own to compliment her breaths. While she snored away, I masturbated in silence, gently tugging my nipple, thinking of her semi-naked body resting beside me.
Red and black spots swam in the darkness as I concentrated on the sensation burning in my loins. With Mom only inches away, I could not jack myself to orgasm as quickly as I was accustomed. Not that this was a bad thing. Alone, my impatience would have forced me to blur my hand against my hardness until a gob of come cascaded down the underside of my shaft. Now, I was forced to hold back and control the repetitive movement of my arm. My nipple tingled as my fingers toyed at it roughly. My mind focused on the pleasure. My mother's breathing and the pleasure.
In the blackness, I envisioned my exposed body nestled by my mother in the softness of the bed. I envisioned my hand as hers, with its slender fingers and manicured nails. Shivering with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, I pictured her mouth on my nipple, her lipstick-reddened lips pressed against my chest, sucking as powerfully as Mike had done only days before.
After an eternity of maddeningly controlled masturbating, it took me. The orgasm rose up, almost in slow motion, cresting in a gentle surge as I let out a whisper of a groan. But God, it lasted forever. I arched my back, clenching my teeth as I kept coming, coming to a peak. I felt as if my insides were coming out. I came and came, then came some more. I couldn't believe the intensity of what was happening as I lost track of Mom's breathing. I prayed I wouldn't soil myself too much, what with all the semen spurting out of me.
At last, the orgasm subsided. Lying there, for a very long time, I collected my thoughts, or tried. I had never had such a thorough, intense orgasm ever. It was like a cleansing element had gone through my body, removing all tension, spilling out the tip of my throbbing, purple helmet.
As I steadied my breathing, a cool wetness caught my attention. I touched my thigh and found a splotch of seminal goo. I also noticed another trickle cooling wetly on my other thigh. God, what a mess I made! Reaching behind my back, I carefully slid my tee-shirt over my head. Bunching it into a loose ball, I began to wipe the sticky mess from my body, feeling around carefully to see if any more come remained to be found.
Tossing the shirt aside, I sank back into the warm bed. Again pulling the blanket to my chin, I sighed as the soft fabric passed over my bare chest, teasing my still-hardened nipples.
I turned on my side, away from Mom. Watching the psychedelic pattern of shifting splotches return in the darkness, I listened to the hum of the air-conditioning unit in the hallway closet and the slow, steady rhythm of my own breathing.
Soon, I discovered that I was the only one audibly breathing. Immediately, my senses went on alert. Had Mom awakened during my orgasm? Did my jerking and twitching pull her out of a deep sleep?
For a moment, I stopped breathing myself, holding my breath, wondering what would happen next. The moment dragged on. Motionless, I tried to breathe as shallowly as possible, trying vainly to sense what Mom was doing right beside me.
Suddenly, she let go a long, rasping snore, making me nearly jump out of my skin. Mom had been holding onto a breath, like she had the habit of doing on occasion, until it forced its way past the blockage in her nasal cavity.
This indicated that Mom would soon be shifting her body into a more comfortable breathing position. As I expected, she began to move behind me. What I didn't expect was where she would move. I froze as an arm flopped over my shoulder, then a naked thigh slid over mine. With her tits pressing into my bare back, Mom resumed her slow, steady breathing against the nape of my neck.
Could this be happening? What should I do?
Again I tried to relax, inhaling the scent of my mother's body. My mind reeled slightly as I analyzed the situation and my potential options. Soon, the heat trapped between our bodies condensed into a pleasant dampness. My dick reemerged from its lair, swelling and extending against the fabric of my shorts due to the silky closeness of my mother's body.
Again, my arousal became torture. With a lump in my throat and an aching cock between my legs, I couldn't move an inch, much less masturbate, to relieve my affliction. Mom's body felt so damn good, I could hardly believe it.
Cocooned there with my mother, I tried, in vain, to sleep. My cock throbbed angily until pain began to shoot along the length of it. I flinched slightly, nearly frustrated to tears. I knew that if I extracted myself from her embrace, she might awaken, and I may never pleasure in the touch of her body that way again. So I remained, horny and hurting, trapped within an increasingly impossible situation.
Hours passed, or so it seemed. The cool air of the night halted the humming of the air conditioner. The vacuous silence remaining allowed me to hear the wall clock on the opposite side of the living room.
The anemic chimes reported one o'clock, surprising me. Surely, I thought it was almost sunrise, I had been in Mom's tender trap for so long. My right arm began to fall asleep. Soon, it was a numb, useless appendage, compounding my agony to the breaking point.
"Fuck this shit," I thought to myself. My brain raced, trying to find an agreeable solution to my plight. I couldn't make myself break free of my mother's hold so, in a moment of insanity, I took the boldest move I had ever dared.
Tensing my body, I turned a nearly-flawless 180-degree turn. Immediately, I faced my mother. Her breathing hesitated for a moment, but her arm and thigh remained draped over me. Thankfully, the blood began returning to my arm. I pulled my hips back to keep my erection from poking her in the belly. I squirmed a bit, trying to find a comfortable position. I knew that, eventually, my left arm would fall asleep, too, so I had to make the best of my situation right away.
I entertained thoughts of pressing my erection into the darkness between her legs. No, that could be disastrous if she awoke. The trapped position of my arms precluded any careful touching or fondling of her body.
Through the spots in the darkness, I studied the details of her pretty face. With my face only inches from hers, I could see the line that eluded my more distant scrutiny. Passing my eyes down, past her chin and fleshy throat, I gazed at her chest. As I focused on them, my eyes fighting to perceive detail in the darkness, I found a wonderful surprise.
It may have happened when Mom flopped over on me. A couple of her buttons had popped open, and peeking from the valley of her low-cut nightgown was a beautiful, red areola, topped by an erect nipple. My brain stopped its buzzing and settled on my wonderful discovery. The nipple was a healthy size, about the same as the tip of my little finger, and was surrounded by a puckered areola the size of a silver dollar.
My loins simmered as I focused on her exposed breast, memorizing every minute detail. I didn't know how much time would pass before I would see it again, so I catalogued as much information as I could.
With the present situation, I knew I would not be going back to sleep. My mind struggled with what to do next. Should I stay clear and merely observe my mother's exposed state, or should I take advantage of my situation and risk catastrophe?
Mom shifted again, returning to her back, leaving me semi-exposed as the blankets slid down to below our waists. Her lovely breast retreated behind the sheer fabric, leaving her cleavage fully exposed. I remained motionless, gazing down to study what the lowered blanket had revealed. The nightie had bunched up somewhat, right around her hips.
Before I had a chance to think further, I looked up to meet my mother's gaze. I took a sharp breath, startled, but her loving eyes and smile calmed me somewhat.
Then the world opened up for me.
With a gentle tug, she pulled the nightie open, revealing her hard-capped breast again in all its glory.
I just had to.
No words were spoken as I shifted forward to press my face into her softness, nuzzling the erect nipple, then taking it into my mouth to nurse. Mom sighed, placing her hand on the back of my head as I reveled in her hard, thick nipple. My still-sheathed cock rubbed against her thigh.
Soon, Mom's nightie was completely open, revealing everything from her chin down to her sweet, curly bush. Our breathing had become labored with the pleasure that was being given and received. My hand rested on her tummy, an errant finger or two caressing the springy goodness just below her navel.
With a shift of her body, she indicated I switch to the other breast. Another gentle sigh mingled with my moan of contentment as I took the other nipple. By now, my hand was pressing firmly against her bush. The sound of my mouth feeding on Mom's tit blended with our breaths.
I felt Mom's hand tugging at my shorts. Without breaking my lock on her breast, I shifted my body to slide them, down my thighs and legs, to my feet, then to be kicked to the foot of the bed. Now my cock rubbed against her naked flesh.
Then her sweet voice broke the silence.
"Come here," she said, pulling me up to her face. Again, I gazed into those beautiful, hazel eyes. Of course, the darkness made them look black-and-white. After a moment's hesitation, our mouths pressed together, kissing -- gently, at first -- then more and more aggressively until our mouths locked together tightly, our tongues caressing in a moisture lock of incestuous lust.
As we kissed, I felt her hand grip my cock, squeezing yet another moan of pleasure from me as I squirmed with need. Our bodies pressed together as we made out like two teenagers on a second date. Shifting her body again, I could tell she wanted me on top.
So be it.
Breaking our kiss, I rose to my knees, kneeling between her now-open thighs. My gaze started at her face, then traced down her body, past her breasts, to her well-groomed triangle. Mom drew up her knees slightly, then grasped my cock again, guiding me toward her pussy.
"Push, honey."
With that, I slid my cock into the most incredible sensation I'd ever known. It took a few clumsy pushes, but Mom held onto my hips, guiding my body against hers, until my balls pressed against her taint.
"Is this okay?" She whispered. Writhing against her, I nodded, whimpering slightly.
Her movements precipitated mine, and soon we achieved a steady rhythm, our bodies slapping together in perfect rhythm in the dark coolness of the living room. Nervousness kept me from coming too soon, and I didn't know if this was a one-time experience, so I savored it all I could.
I watched her breasts jiggle with each thrust, glancing up at her face, no longer smiling, but still beautiful with closed lids and parted lips, panting with our intercourse.
For several minutes, our bodies collided. The odor of sweat and sex permeated my nostrils and I finally started approaching completion. That was when my mother's body jerked.
She let out a yelp, gyrating her hips and gripping me more tightly. Her pussy clenched my cock repeatedly and I knew she was coming. As she came, her fingers closed around my nipples.
"Your turn, son," she hissed as her fingernails dug into my tender buds.
That did it. Breaking down my reserves, I bucked against her harder, growling as come erupted deep into her womb. Again, this orgasm topped the last. This was more than masturbating, this is what sex was meant to be. I kept pounding away, both of us coming, until our movements slowed.
I collapsed on top of my mother. Both of us panted, covered in sweat, sex goo melding us together as I tried to comprehend what had just happened. Mom kept her arms around me, stroking my hair as I rested my head against her breast, my cock still inside her.
"Are you okay?" she finally whispered, as if afraid to break the spell.
"Yes, Mom," I replied into her breasts.
With that, we both fell into a deep sleep that lasted until late morning.
- Next page: Chapter 02
