A Mother’s Worry – part 10

“Then hurry up and come.”

I wanted to do so much more to her, but the crown of my cock was a knot of tingling nerve-endings whose need for release had spilled into my thighs. I felt as though I were floating, carried on a prickling cloud that had hollowed out my insides with soul-shaking adrenaline.

“I’ll come later,” I whispered, almost panting, my words hurting my throat. “But you’re gonna come now.”

Mom opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, I pushed aside the gusset of her panties, and the tips of my middle and forefinger found her clit on the first try. Her mouth opened, but no sound left her lips. Her face tightened, tensing into a moment of pleasure with her eyes narrowing and her lips puckering. The muscles in her neck went taut. My fingers slid through the dewy crease of her pussy, pushing against the pink flesh behind her lips and above her hole, and then my fingers sank into her muffin as they followed that line downward.

“Uh,” Mom moaned from the back of her throat, surprise and shock painted on her face.

My digits followed the curving of her inner channel. I didn’t go deep. Instead, I hooked my fingers through her wetness, pressing the tips against the underside of her mound as my thumb continued forward and wiggled between the thickness of her upper cunny lips. I knew I was beneath my mother’s clit, and I pushed my thumb higher in a hurry. I didn’t stop until my mother’s body jumped as if electrified, and she uttered another moan through her trembling lips.

“That’s it, Mom,” I whispered in a rush. “Just let me touch you, and I’ll stay away from Jenna.”

Mom didn’t move. Had Jenna’s name caused her to freeze in place? Or was it because I had two fingers inside of her pussy, my thumb on her clit, and my ring finger pressing into the crack of her ass while my pink finger rested along the bottom of her right cheek? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t about to ask.

Please, God, help me make my mother come, I prayed, and then I started moving my fingers between the squishiness of her pink, maternal walls.

“Uh-oh,” Mom whisper-moaned, her face struggling with defiance.

I had my palm upward with my fingers adapting to the curve of her inner channel; the wet and rubbery pinkness of her hidden flesh was soft to the touch. Soft and tight, squeezing me with ridged muscles and a deeper strength I hadn’t anticipated. Jenna’s pussy had never done that, but the word control floated through my mind. Mom was a woman who knew how to use her pussy to her advantage.

I stared at her face as I curled and uncurled my fingers across the underside of my mother’s mound. Her G-spot, so the pornstars said. So the internet said. So Jenna said while whimpering and holding back tears while I stroked her cunny to orgasm.

I didn’t move my fingers fast or slow. I caressed my mother’s insides with methodical pressure and used the same rhythm to thumb my mother’s clit. Her squishy pearl rolled smoothly between the upper portions of her outer lips, where the pussy meat was thick and tender and perfect for squeezing around my mother’s clitoral hood. I bit back a moan. I couldn’t strip my mother naked right now and squeeze her pussy lips together, hugging her clit with her clam’s outer shell no matter how much I wanted to. Next time, I told myself, next time. I had so many plans for my mother’s body that it was almost impossible to think straight.

As I soaked my fingers between Mom’s lips, her face betrayed the pleasure coursing through her maternal core. She had bitten her lower lip, and with each turn of her clit and massage of her insides, her chin twitched to the left or right, her eyes narrowing and her brows spasming. From her pussy came a messy amount of honey-thick nectar, staining my hand and her shorts, ruining her panties, and wetting her ass crack and butthole.

I moaned.

“Shh,” Mom hissed, turning her head over her right shoulder as far as she could. Her eyes opened, and she shivered as I pressed down on her love button. Her hips shot upward, and her thighs opened and closed, squeezing my hand, then releasing it, then squeezing it. The scent of her sweet musk filled my nostrils and probably the whole damn living room. I breathed it in deeply as my left hand pushed its way under my shorts without permission and grabbed hold of the stiffest cock I had ever had in my life.

Holy shit, but I needed to get this big son-of-a-bitch into my mother–but not tonight. I wanted to cry as that thought hit me, but I wanted to come even more, so I started stroking my member faster while working my mother’s juicy muff harder and rubbing her clitty at a quicker pace.

The faster I rubbed my precum-slick prick, the harder I worked my mother’s pussy, matching the rhythms of my hands together. As I synchronized their movements, Mom’s and my pleasure seemed to intertwine. Every time I suppressed a moan, my mother did the same. She looked at me with a kind of helplessness that made my balls beg for mercy.

Within minutes of touching myself, her jaw trembled, and her head started to nod as if urging me onward. She puckered her lips, her face tightening as my cock swelled in anticipation of my orgasm. As my pleasure swirled along my glans’ corona, Mom’s pussy channel constricted, and she raised her left palm to her mouth. A look of shame, and surprise, filled her eyes as her pussy turned into a creamy mess across my fingers.

She’s gonna come. She’s gonna come. She’s gonna–

Mom shook her head, at herself or me, I don’t know, but she twisted the hand covering her mouth and bit the crescent line of flesh running from her thumb to her forefinger. Her pussy clamped down on my fingers, and Mom closed her knees and feet, trapping my hand between her sweaty thighs, keeping my fingers lodged inside of her as her ass lifted from the couch, bucking her pussy at my probing digits and pearl-polishing thumb. Cum drenched my fingers. Thick and hot, it poured from her, wetting everything it touched and branding the fabric of her panties, shorts, and the couch, with her strawberry fragrance. When her whimpers escaped her fingers, and she brought her right hand up to help cover her mouth, and I lost control.

My cock stiffened along its underside, bending upward and back as my thighs tensed and my ass cheeks clenched. The pressure in my balls released, shooting up and around and then through my cock, filling my shaft with cum before it exploded into my shorts.

“Mom, Mom, Mom,” I whisper-moaned, trembling and pushing my hips forward as thick blasts of jizzed ruined my jockeys and wet my fingers. My moans continued, riding the wispy strands of my breath, impossible for anyone but my mother or myself to hear. I pushed my fingers hard into my mother’s cunny, straightening them and mashing my knuckles against her pussyhole, my thumb sliding up her clitoral hood and over her pubic hairs, my fingers clamping onto her pubic bone as though I owned her. I fought for depth inside of her channel, and when a low moan escaped my mother’s lungs, the sound was sexy enough to force one last aftershock of cum to shake my system, emptying my balls of every ounce of jizz they held.

“Thank you,” I panted after a minute of silence, “for letting me touch you, Mom.”

“Take your fingers out of me,” Mom said, her voice stern. “And go to your room.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t speak. I nodded my head, slid my fingers from my mother, and hurried upstairs, not even sparing Mom another look. I left my tablet behind, but I didn’t care at the moment. I went upstairs to my room, where I licked my mother’s sweetness off my fingers. My saliva glands erupted, my tongue tingled. I had never tasted anything so smooth and creamy before. I had to get my mouth between her legs next time.

Would there even be a next time?

Fuck, yes, there would be.

An hour later, I went downstairs to get my tablet. I walked through the dark hallway, reached the top of the stair, and witnessed the silvery-blue light from the TV as it tried to break the foyer’s curtain of darkness. At the top of the stairs, I heard the sounds of low, heavy panting, and the faint plop, plop, plop, of flesh smacking flesh. Crouching and taking my time, I slid-walked down the stairs far enough to see into the living, and what I saw hardened my cock quicker than my hand ever could.

Silvery-blue light washed over my mother, who was facing away from me. My father still looked asleep, but how he remained asleep, even with his pills, was beyond anything the medical world could have explained to me. Mom sat astride him, her boyshorts missing from her body, though I couldn’t make out any details since the light only hit her from the front.

She was a black specter, a shadow, a nymph made of nighttime sin, and everything tantalizing about the forbidden. Her ass moved up and down as she rode my father reverse cowgirl style, pumping her pussy on the length of his cock. His breath left his lungs in rough pulses, but he was far from awake. Unable to help myself, I pulled my cock out and jerked off for the next ten minutes, watching the shadow of my mother ride my father and wishing I could join them.

After I came, I watched my mother use my father’s cock until she threw back her head and moaned, filling the downstairs with the sounds of her orgasm. Dad woke up then. He said something, but it was low and muffled; sleepy, but I recognized his mumbling, and then Mom laughed and said, “If you can stay awake….”

I smiled as I went back to my room, thinking that in a perfect world, my father would be willing to share my mother with me. Who knew if he ever would, but I needed my sleep. Tomorrow was a new day, and I had plans for my mother.

Nasty–naughty–plans.

13

Gradual Acceptance

I woke at seven in the morning to the sound of Jenna’s ringtone playing to the side of me–Shake It Off, by Taylor Swift. Jenna had programmed it for me, and it always made me laugh. It made my friends laugh, too, the fuckers.

“Good morning,” I said after grabbing my phone and swiping the call button.

“Morning, baby,” Jenna said. “Did I wake you? It sounds like I woke you.”

“You did, but I wanted to get up early.”

“Then, you’re welcome.” She laughed a sneaky sound. “You got that morning wood for me?”

“Always,” I said, stretching different parts of my body and twisting my hips from side to side.

“I remember the first time I felt your morning wood,” Jenna whispered. “Sleeping at Alice’s, after her party, with your dick pressing into my ass.” She made a hungry sound. “That was the first time I ever felt a hard cock against me. I felt it all night long while we slept.”

“Keep talking,” I whispered.

Jenna laughed. “I would, but I have to go to school soon. Summer school should be from nine to one.”

“Should be.”

“Guess what I did last night?”

“I thought that you were in a hurry?” I asked, laughing.

“Shut up,” Jenna said. “I did what you suggested.” Before I could say anything, she added, “I teased my dad!”

“Holy shit.” I thought that she’d do it, but not so damn soon. “Tell me about it.”

“Holy shit is right,” Jenna said. “After we had finished talking last night, I changed into one of my cropped, pink, cotton tank camisoles–”

“What?”

“God, Mark,” Jenna said. “You’re eighteen.” She laughed. “It’s an undershirt held up by straps and made of cotton, nylon, or satin that women wear to sleep. Look it up.”

I laughed.

“I changed into a tight-fitting top with little shoulder straps, but it was so tight on me that it could have been a bandeau.” I didn’t even ask what that was. “I was super nipply. My girls were sticking up large and hard. You know how thick and tight they can get.”

“Mmm, I do,” I sighed. “I miss them.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“My mom’s,” I said.

“Shut up,” Jenna said, laughing. “So, I changed into one of those without a bra and some matching pink boyshorts. I rolled the waistline down so I could show off the cut of my hips because I know you love that.”

I pictured Jenna’s hard stomach and long muscles covered by a single layer of feminine softness. My cock twitched, but I didn’t touch it. Not this morning. Not before I saw my mother.

“My shorts were loose, I couldn’t show off my C-toe, but I’m saving that precious gem for another day.” Jenna then said something to someone else, the sound of her voice faint through the speaker, as though she had pulled the phone away from her lips. “I got to go. It’s probably for the best because I’m getting so fucking wet thinking about last night, and I don’t want to sit in class with sloppy panties.”

“Bring another pair to school,” I said.

“I only bring an extra pair when we’re together.”

“Sexy,” I said. “Oh, wait! What happened with your dad?”

“Really quick,” Jenna said. “I think I made my dad uncomfortable, but I felt his eyes on me before he left the living room to go upstairs. Dad never goes to bed earlier, but he did last night. I have to go. See you today?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll see you sometime in the evening after I reassure my mom that nothing will happen between us.”

“Yeah, right,” Jenna whispered, giggling. “Nothing but some coming. Bye. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” I said, then added, “Oh, wait!”

“What, baby?” Jenna pouted. “I’ve got to go.”

“If my mom brings up our naughty pictures, you have to tell her that you deleted them.”

Jenna made an annoyed, clicking sound, but she said, “Fine, but I don’t like lying to your mother. She’s going to be my mother-in-law one day.”

Yikes.

“Thanks, baby,” I said. “Love you again. Bye.”

I disconnected the call, thinking about my words for the next half hour. Love you. If I loved her, then why was I willing to fool around with my mother?

But Mom’s the first woman you loved.

Was that my mind, heart, or cock whispering those words of wisdom to me? Logic versus feelings versus horniness–along with a little bit of truth from each of them. Jenna had been my neighbor for my entire life. Our parents had babysat us, and Jenna had been just a little brat until the day she wasn’t. Until the I noticed her tits. (That’s a good reason to fall in love.) But, I did love Jenna, yet I had never dated anyone else, either.

I picked up my phone and spoke to the voice command, asking, “Mr. Internet: Is it okay for a man to justify cheating on the woman he loves?”

The clock on my phone said it was ten minutes until eight, so I killed the search before it had a chance to answer me, and I left my room for a shower. I didn’t need a shitty AI telling me that I was a terrible person. I finished showering after eight and dressed in a pair of basketball shorts with my boxer briefs beneath and a tight shirt. I had my phone in my left hand, ready to take some pictures and videos of my mother before I attempted to do a whole lot more.

I half-trotted downstairs, my muscles were loose, and my steps were light. I didn’t see Mom in the living room, though the dark curtains were open, while the transparent curtains remained shut. I peeked into the seldom-used great room, and it was empty as well, so I spun on my heels and walked down the hallway that led straight into the kitchen. Halfway there, I heard the faint sounds of French music, the kind that deserved playtime on an old phonograph. I didn’t know French, but my mother did, and I knew she listened to those songs whenever she needed some relaxation in her life. Was that a good sign or a bad sign?

When I exited the shortcut hallway and stepped into the kitchen, I saw Mom in the same position as I had seen her yesterday morning. She sat at the breakfast table with the light streaming into the house through the breakfast area’s swinging glass doors. Mom had the morning paper in her left hand, which tilted her body away from me, but not much.

She didn’t look at me, and her right arm lay curled around her waist. She wore an off-the-shoulder, rib-knit, long-sleeved T-shirt that was violet in color and seemed to make her flaxen hair brighter. Her elf-queen profile looked sharp this morning, and she was wearing makeup that highlighted the regalness of her features. She sat with her legs crossed, her right over her left, the hem of her shirt barely covering the tops of her thighs while revealing the entire side of her leg and the cheek of her ass to me. Whatever she thought about last night, it hadn’t stopped her from wearing a G-string this morning.

That had to be a good sign.

It had to be.

“Good morning,” I said as I entered the kitchen and walked behind the kitchen island, ignoring the fridge and leaning against the island’s marble top.

“Good morning,” Mom said, not looking up at me.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“I had a good time last night.” I placed my phone in front of me, sliding my right forefinger across the screen and selecting the camera icon. “A real good time.”

“I’m sure you did,” Mom said, her voice sounding measured and controlled, her breathing deepening as she spoke.

“You didn’t?” I asked as a tingling sensation rode the length of my shaft.

“I’m keeping you out of trouble,” Mom said. “How I feel about last night doesn’t matter.”

“I liked it, just saying,” I said, matching my tone to my mother’s, then uttering a sigh that made my mother roll her eyes. I smiled. “You didn’t like it just a little bit?”

Mom tightened her lips and tilted her head further to the left. Was she smiling? Could I guilt her into a smile, the way I had when I was younger? She must have liked it, or else she’d be wearing pants today.

“You know,” I said, elongating those two words, “if we could keep last night going, I think–I’m not promising anything–but I think I could stay away from Jenna–sexually–until we were sure we were responsible enough to handle sex.”

“You think you could?” Mom asked. It sounded like a question, despite her flat delivery. She uncrossed her legs, and her thighs rubbed together in the smallest of movements possible. “I think I deserve the promise of a stress-free month for what I was willing to do for you last night.”

My cock swelled with my mother’s words. The head thickened faster than the body as the corner of her mouth pulled into a smile. “I thought staying away from Jenna last night was what I was doing for you,” I said as my member filled up my shorts.

“Promise me a stress-free month,” Mom said.

“I’ll promise you a stress-free month,” I said, “as long as you keep my mind off Jenna.”

Mom waited and waited with the newspaper held in front of her. Was she thinking? Was she reading? Was she toying with me? Teasing me? My skin tingled as I waited for her answer.

“Did you want to take some pictures of me?” Mom asked. “Before I go upstairs to work?”

“Yeah,” I said, licking my lips. “I do. Something like… last night?”

“Come on,” Mom said. “Let’s go to the living room and remember that I’m still your mother.”

I nodded my head as my mother stood. Her rib-knit shirt barely covered the bottom cleft of her pussy, which left a whole lot of leg exposed to my eyes. As she passed me, I turned my body along the path of my gaze. Mom didn’t look in my direction, so she didn’t see my erection tenting my shorts, nor did she see my cock jerk when I saw that her shirt didn’t quite cover the bottom of her ass cheeks. As Mom left the kitchen, I followed her to the living room, where she walked to our couch and sat down in the exact spot she had sat last night.

“How would you like me to pose?” Mom asked, adjusting the hem of her shirt, though sitting as she was, it could barely cover her lap, and again, it left her left leg bare to the upward curve of her butt.

I sat down on the opposite end of the couch. How did I want her to pose? With her legs spread and her panties stretched between her knees while she reached down and spread her pink petals wide enough for me to see the inside of her motherly channel. (Lately… I may have been watching too much porn with a little too much blonde pussy gaping.) I wanted to get down to business, but instead….