Page 04
Up the inside of her arms and deep into the heat of Mom's armpits, then down to the side of her breasts where I paused, shamelessly letting my fingers and palms curl to fit their swelling form. I let them stay there for several short breaths that were clearly audible in the stillness of the night. There was no use hiding my excitement. Anyway, my breaths were matched my Mom's.
Down Mom's torso, my hands pressed so firmly against her ribcage I could feel the individual bones that formed her chest and knew exactly when I left them behind for the softness of the inside curve of her waist and then out the distinctly feminine slope to her hips where my hands paused again.
I looked down, noting the gentle rise and fall of Mom's chest and through her widely splayed, loose breasts to the pout of her tummy below, noting the expression of my own excitement in the tent of my shorts. That was the first time I remembered that I wasn't fully dressed. If Mom opened her eyes and looked down, she would immediately see the lack of innocence in my lesson.
I pushed my hands down the outside of Mom's thighs and knelt before her to continue to her feet which, unlike the previous afternoon, I now caressed with my swirling, cupping hands, exploring her ankles and the arches of her feet right down to her toes which I noted with individual fingers. Returning up Mom's calves with a brief, tickling pause behind her knees, I slowly stroked up the back of her thighs as I stood until my hands rested below her buttocks.
Only when I was fully erect, in more ways than one, did I move my hands up to cup her ass, fingers almost but not quite clutching her cheeks. Unlike the previous afternoon, I hadn't checked the inside of Mom's thighs.
"My dress," Mom murmured, reminding me why this second demonstration was necessary.
"We do that last," I lied.
Mom nodded, her eyes still closed and her head held slightly back, patiently waiting for me to continue.
I moved my hands slowly up and over her ass, pressing tightly enough that, as my hands reached the small of her back, her cheeks bounced down. She was definitely wearing panties but they were small ones that only reached halfway up her buttocks. I explored Mom's back, being careful not to pull her forward onto my tented shorts. I brushed my hands around enough to cover her back and shoulders several times, almost massaging her flesh, but eventually moved around to palm her stomach. Back and forth, my hands explored her tummy, moving in a tight oval around her navel that broadened until I could feel the upper edge of her panties on the lower sweep and the heavy press of her slightly sagging breasts on the upper reach.
I looked down at Mom's thinly clad breasts. They were heavy and excited, the thick nipples pressing through the thin nightgown, the dark aureoles visible underneath. I looked down the hallway toward the bedroom door, behind which my father was hopefully sound asleep, and flipped my hands so my knuckles were pressing against Mom's tummy. Keeping my eyes steadily on the door, I pulled them up until they pressed against the lower swells of Mom's breasts, then brought them up between the crease formed by her tits and upper stomach. Risking everything, I curled my hands until they closed over Mom's breasts. Her breath sucked in sharply and I gently squeezed her tits, twisting my elbows up high until I felt her nipples slip into my palms. Mom released a low moan.
"The dress, Mark," Mom sighed. "The dress."
Reluctantly, I released Mom's tits and dropped to my knees in front of her. I placed my hands on Mom's legs, just above her knees and at the hem of her nightgown. Then, instead of following the training I had observed the women officers receiving and pushing the 'dress' between Mom's legs before rubbing up the inside of her thighs, I moved my hands up the inside of her bare legs, my arms crossed inappropriately so I could cup her flesh with my palms. I moved unhurriedly over her thickening thighs until I was poised beneath her panties. Then, I did something even more outrageous. I stood, keeping my hands in place but using my raised forearms to raise the hem of Mom's gown until the angle was so sharp that it fell down to my wrists. Then, I sank to my knees again, faced with Mom's exposed upper legs and panties.
I thought I heard Mom whisper, "Oh God," but I wasn't sure. I pressed my hands between Mom's upper thighs immediately below her panties and moved them up until the outside of my thumbs were pressed against the silky, hot material. On this dark side of Mom, I couldn't tell if the panties matched the color of her nightgown but I was acutely aware of her musky smell.
I was aware of Mom tilting her head forward and, though I didn't look up, I vividly pictured her looking down at the top of my head, her thick, tousled hair falling over her face.
"Will they really check this closely?"
"Yes," I lied again, continuing in a faltering, cracked voice. "If they think you're hiding something."
"Am I?" Mom husked.
"I don't know yet."
"Then you're not finished?"
She panted after she said that and I forgot to answer but Mom didn't press me to. I looked at the swollen mound on the front of Mom's panties, discernible even in the dim light, and leaned closer, involuntarily seeking the source of Mom's musky smell but I don't think it was my unwilled movement that brought my nose into contact with the heated cotton. I think Mom pressed forward, whether she meant to or not, and my nose was suddenly pressed into her panties, and my ears suddenly filled with a low moan, longer and louder than the one emitted when my hands had closed over her tits.
I opened my mouth and pushed the tip of my tongue out to taste her musky panties. The moan deepened so I tilted my my head forward pushed my tongue out and down the front of Mom's panties. I felt like I was in a dream. I licked back up and felt Mom's hands in my hair. Encouraged, I lapped my tongue up and down on the front of Mom's panties and when her hands tightened, gripping my head, I opened my mouth and tried to suck her mound inside. Mom groaned so loudly I thought Dad would surely awaken but I couldn't move because Mom was holding my head firmly between her legs.
I munched on her pussy. Mom groaned again and lunged forward, pushing me off balance. I fell over onto my back, Mom's legs tightening around my head and keeping her pussy locked against my mouth all the way to the floor. Her breath was rasping irregularly as she panted above my head, grinding her panties against my face in uncontrolled lurches. I pulled my hands from between her legs and curled one over the small of her back, the other reaching between her thighs underneath her ass where it frigged the bottom of her cunt as I chewed the front. That sent Mom into a moaning frenzy and she humped my face furiously, banging my head against the rug. She was a mad woman. I thought it would never end and soon stopping frigging her to just hang on.
It ended suddenly, her legs tensing hard just before her panties became even wetter and very hot. Mom stayed on top of me for a minute, her stomach heaving even as she struggled to control her breathing. She tried to get up but my hands gripped her panties tight. I couldn't release them and as Mom struggled to her feet, they slid off her ass and down her thighs as she awkwardly extricated her legs from my prize. She didn't say anything though she must have thought I was doing it on purpose and when she finally pulled her feet out, she simply walked away.
The hall light flicked off and I was left lying by myself in the darkness, wondering if it had all been a dream. I woke up on the floor the next morning, my hand curled around my morning hard. I turned my head toward the door to make sure it was closed but it wasn't. There was something on the floor so I lifted my head from the carpet to see what it was. It was Mom's panties. I reached out and grabbed them with my left hand and pulled them close to sniff them. My other hand began stroking. Was it accidental, or had Mom left her panties there on purpose?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Mom was strangely angry with me that day and the next. Was it my fault that she had shoved her snatch into my face? It wasn't like I had made her do it. She could have told me to stop licking her, she could have yelled at me or even slapped my face, but she didn't. Maybe that's why she was angry, because she knew it was her own fault. At any rate, it was a weird reaction to her assumption that I had had sex with a girl in the house. She obviously wanted me to know that I knew, otherwise, why wash the panties and put them in my drawer?
I certainly didn't want to talk about the panties because if I slipped up and Mom found out they belonged to Mrs. Yamato I would really be in deep shit so I resolved to find a way to apologize to her about the night before and to seek forgiveness for tricking her into my sick game so she wouldn't blame herself. Maybe that would do it, but how could I broach the topic of scans and pat-downs if she wasn't speaking to me? As soon as the question formed in my mind, an idea occurred to me, one I would try this very afternoon when I got home from work.
When I drove in the driveway, Mrs. Yamato was just leaving. She was already walking away from the closed door and stopped beside my car as I shut the engine off.
"Hello, Mark," she greeted me in a saucy tone.
"Hi," I responded, instantly reacting to her presence.
She leaned on my open window. "Where have you been?" she asked. "I stopped by yesterday morning and today too. Are you avoiding me?"
"No," I said, thinking how ridiculous it was that I would have to deny it. She actually thought I wouldn't want to have her any time I could?
"You don't have to play games with me, Mark. I'm a grown woman, not a school girl."
"I know," I said, nodding to affirm my understanding. "I got called back into work for more training."
"So," Mrs. Yamato looked relieved. "When can we get together?"
"Not until next week, at least during the day," I answered.
"We can't do anything at night," she said. "My husband is always around."
"Not even on the weekend?" I asked, eyes pleading. Her presence made me remember how good she felt with her head in the mattress and her butt in the air. A hot flash erupted in my groin. Before her, it had been months since I'd had a piece of ass.
"No," she replied. "I miss you to," she said sympathetically, reaching in the window to rub my cock through my jeans. "You're so big," she whispered, "I can still feel you inside me."
Mrs. Yamato clutched my cock and I jerked my head toward the house, afraid Mom might be looking out a window.
"I want to feel you there again, from behind."
She emphasized the last word in a way that let me know she really liked it that way. Remembering her underneath me with the covers in her mouth to smother her cries, I knew I really liked it that way too.
"Don't make me wait too long, big boy. I want to feel it coming up the back of my skirt," she whispered, giving my cock a final squeeze before walking away.
I waited in the car for a few minutes, making a scene about opening the hood and looking at the engine. There wasn't anything wrong — with the car that is — I was simply waiting for my erection to subside. After about ten minutes, I figured it wasn't going to get any softer unless I beat it into submission so I went into the house. I didn't have much time before Dad came home, so I put my plan into action right away.
Mom came out of her room just as I was passing on the way to my own room. She said 'hi' and tried to go by me but I blocked her path.
"Spot check," I said, putting my hands on her shoulders and holding her still.
"What?" she cried.
"Random pat-down," I said, then explained further. "Sometimes they pull a person out of line randomly and do a pat-down. It makes people really nervous so it would be good practise for you if I surprised you with a quick pat-down now and then over the next few weeks. "
" I don't have time for this," dismissed my plan and tried to push past me but I held her in place.
"It's not your decision," I said. "It's the rules, Madam," I added in my professional voice, trying to keep my plan alive.
Mom sighed and relaxed. "Mark, I really don't...,"
"Madam, I'm sorry but you've been selected. Please refrain from talking."
My hands were already sliding down Mom's arms and by the time I reached her hands, she shrugged in resignation. I proceeded quickly, performing a professional search that was consistent with my training, and did so on purpose. I didn't want these 'surprise checks' to be nipped in the bud.
"Are you done?" Mom asked, when I stood back to let her pass.
"Yes."
"It wasn't as thorough as before," she said.
"Sometimes they're quick and dirty and sometimes they're painstakingly thorough. The point is you seemed to handle it well even though it was potentially traumatic. Practise makes perfect."
Mom laughed and the there was a palpable easing of tension between us.
"See?" I said.
I continued on to my room but Mom called out before I got there.
"Mark?" I turned. "Be careful with Margaret. She's always wanted a son but she isn't your mother, and she's not very discreet."
I was taken aback by her remark and didn't know what to make of it.
"I know she's not, Mom, and I only want one mother."
I walked toward Mom and she came toward me. We met, and hugged each other.
"I know that son, but do be careful with Margaret. She means well but she's always been an outrageous flirt and sometimes doesn't realize when she's gone too far."
And Mom didn't thing she'd gone too far herself?
"I know," I acknowledged, patting Mom on the back as I hugged her. Inwardly, my mind was scrambling. I was concerned. Did she think the panties belonged to Mrs. J? Those tiny things? Is that what this was about?
"Okay. Let me go now, I have things to do."
I released her and we both walked away again.
"Oh, and one more thing," Mom said, pausing at the top of the stairs. "If you're going to have girls in when we're out, make sure you don't leave anything around for your father to find."
Mom turned away and disappeared down the stairs before I had time to react, other than dropping my jaw wide open. I guess my reaction had suggested the panties weren't Mrs. J's after all.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
So Mom and I seemed to be back on track. She may have still been concerned about Mrs. J, probably from long association with her close friend, but seemed happy to forewarn me and let me handle it on my own. At least, she didn't say anything to me about her again and let her warning stand. I wondered what would happen if she found out who the panties really belonged to. Anyway, I was happy. Mom was talking to me again and even teasing me about suspected sexual activity in her own home. After dinner, I was helping Mom in the kitchen and for some reason I broached the subject of Mrs. J. Don't ask me why I didn't leave well enough alone.
"So why does Mrs. J flirt so much? Is just another form of teasing? I mean, she's always teased me, since I was little."
"You might have something there," Mom answered, leaning down to put a pot into the cupboard. "She's always been fun-loving and a terrible teaser, and a bit of a flirt, but the flirting has gotten a little out of control the last few years. Less make-believe and more real, I think."
"Why do you think that is?" I asked.
"Oh well... don't say I said anything," Mom leaned toward me and put her hand on my forearm, then continued in a confidential tone, "but I think Lennie isn't paying much attention to her lately."
"Not paying attention to her?" I asked dumbly, and I mean, exhibiting true naivety.
"You know... attention," Mom said. "Not that that's all that rare once men get older."
I coughed, suddenly embarrassed, and Mom laughed, truly amused.
"I guess I should have thought about who I was talking to... I mean she isn't getting any," Mom broke out in hysterics at her own funny. It was one of those times when something just strikes you as really funny and you can't stop laughing, and her reaction spread to me.
"What's so funny?" Dad yelled from the living room.
"Nothing," I yelled back. "Just something Mom said."
"About what?" he asked.
"Nothing," Mom yelled back. "It was about nothing."
She broke out in hysterics again and I joined in. The television became noticeably louder. Mom was doubled over and so was I. She was wearing a shirt, completely unbuttoned, over a t-shirt and a pair of old jeans — a common outfit for knocking around the house in the evening. In the midst of my mirth, I noticed that Mom wasn't wearing a bra, couldn't be, not the way her breasts were jostling around under the green t-shirt.
As our laughter petered out we both straightened up, still chuckling. The TV now seemed horrendously loud. Mom put her hand behind herself and arched her back in a mock complaint about its soreness. If she was looking for sympathy from me, she got something else because the gesture pushed her breasts up and out, thrusting them hard against her t-shirt.
"Old girls like me shouldn't laugh that hard," she complained.
"Spot check," I said.
"No way," Mom cried, still laughing as I grabbed her shoulders.
"Yes way," I laughed back, already checking her arms.
I quickly moved up the inside of her arms and placed my hands on her sides, then pulled them out and slipped them back in under her arms, this time inside her shirt. I kept my hands pressed against her sides but didn't move them down her waist to her hips. I left them where they were with only the thin material of the t-shirt between them and Mom's loose breasts. Mom looked up at me expectantly, eyes dancing, seemingly still amused but no longer laughing.
"Is this a quick and dirty one, or a serious affair?"
"Please refrain from talking," I said, hoping the catch in my voice was chalked up to restrained laughter.
I didn't want to move my hands, the swells of her breasts felt so good, but I had to keep up the charade. I slowly moved down her to her waist, reluctant to leave those meaty bulges of flesh.
"It seems to be a serious one," Mom mumbled.
"Shhhhh," I cautioned.
My hands were at her hips. I moved them behind her back and pressed her toward me, hoping to feel her breasts against my chest which were still heaving in their effort to recapture her breath from the exertion of laughing so hard. Mom fell easily against me.
"I thought you were supposed to do the legs next."
"No talking," I commanded.
I rubbed Mom's back roughly over her shoulder blades, trying with some success to chafe her breasts across my chest and was thrilled when I discerned her nipples rubbing against me. Eventually, I had to move on so I slid my hands around to her stomach and, reversing them to face my knuckles inward, rubbed across her tummy. Mom's lack of a bra worked to my advantage. When I had searched her before, I had to purposely push my hands up under her breasts, but now they virtually fell into my hands. As I did with her sides, I stopped moving my hands and just cupped her breasts.
Mom mumbled again, "You won't do this with Margaret, will..."
"No talking," I cut her off, in my excitement barely able to get even those two words out.
I held her breasts for at least thirty more seconds, rubbed up the sides and then underneath for another brief stay. Needing to move again, I explored between Mom's breasts up to neck, searched around her throat, then brought my hands, palm in this time, down the outside of her breasts and cupped them for a few more seconds before giving them a gentle squeeze and departing for her hips.
