A Mother’s Worry – part 11

“Just like that for the first couple of pictures,” I said.

Mom sat still, facing forward with her hands in her lap. I snapped a picture, making sure to capture all of her. I couldn’t see her nipples through the thickness of her shirt, but I imagined them to be puckered tightly and as hard as diamonds. I took another picture, zooming in on the exposed side of her ass, cropping her upper body out of the picture. I could show my friends that picture one day, and they’d never know….

The thought of bragging about my mother to my friends without them knowing who I was talking about sent a chill through my cock and a buzzing through the soles of my feet that curled my toes. I liked it when my friends checked out Jenna. I liked knowing I had someone they could never have. Another chill went through me, turning my nipples sensitive, and I scratched my chest, the prickling sensations causing me to shiver.

I looked up from my phone’s viewer and looked at my mother. “Mom,” I said, “can you turn on the couch and face me, like last night.” My heart sped up. Not as hard as it would have before last night’s finger session, but hard enough to make my body tingle and my blood rush. “You can keep your legs together… for the first few pictures.”

Mom looked at me. I saw defiance in her eyes, but she wore an expression of bratty sullenness that I found adorable. She did as I told her to do, lifting her feet and turning toward me, keeping her knees and feet together, so her shins created a wall that hid her pussy from me. I snapped several pictures, and though Mom dropped her eyes from me and looked toward the back of the couch, I didn’t think that she was mad at me. Her eyes appeared to be looking inward as if contemplating some inner turmoil that was too terrible to ignore. (That may have sounded dramatic, but I needed to believe that Mom’s desire for me was as strong as my desire for her.)

Fight your conscience, Mom. Fight it.

I snapped more pictures, saying, “Turn your eyes toward me,” as I did.

Mom did as I told her to do. Her eyes looked big, with an accusing light that made my cock harder as the pressure in my balls grew stronger. My sack constricted. Was this turning Mom on as well? Was her conscience fighting the sexiness of this moment? Was it easier for me because I had been a child growing up and adoring a grown woman while Mom had been a grown woman adoring a child who had become a man, with manly desires? The weight of that on her conscious would have crushed most people, but here was my mother, who had let me jerk off on her yesterday morning and who had let me finger her last night–I doubt there was anyone in the world who could have understood her mind at that moment.

“You’re beautiful,” I said in a near whisper. “Thank you for this.”

I snapped a picture, then another, smiling, and a small, soft smile appeared on my mother’s lips as I looked down at my phone’s screen. When I raised my eyes, her smile vanished, replaced by a sullen, resentful half-glare.

“Spread your knees for me, Mom,” I said, moving closer to her. “The way Jenna wants to spread her thighs for me, but I’m resisting her because I have you to look at.”

Mom tilted her head, her eyes widening and her mouth tightening.

“Where’s my tablet?” I asked, looking around the living room. “I still need to delete her pictures.”

“It’s in my room,” Mom said. “I was going to remind you to do that.”

“Spreading your legs for me is reminder enough,” I said, my voice wavering as my breathing deepened. A harsh, swirling tingle circled my knob and glans, and I shuddered as precum escaped the tip of my cock. “Can you lift your shirt above your panties for me, too?”

Mom’s cheeks sucked inward, and she narrowed her eyes. After a deep breath, her face softened, and she slowly spread her knees open, followed by moving her feet apart. A sun-golden hallway of smooth, semi-muscled thighs pointed the way down to the V of her crotch. She was wearing snow-white panties that seemed extra bright against her tan skin. As her shirt continued to her waistlines, Mom’s straw-light pubes came into view, and I drooled at the smallness of her panties. They barely covered her outer pussy lips, but they were also transparent, allowing me to see everything between my mother’s thighs: mound, clitoral hood, her little jewel, and her tight slit.

I swallowed, saying, “Thank you, Mom, for dressing this way for me.” I licked my lips, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because my cock was near to bursting, and my mouth wanted to dive between my mother’s legs without asking for permission. “I don’t know any other mom who cares this much about their son.”

Mom stared at me, looking me in the eyes. Her lips trembled, then they spread into a soft, almost pleased, smile before returning to the straight-lined pout that they had held a second ago.

The transparency of my mother’s panties ended at her perineum, turning into a string that I could have used for dental floss. I could see the rim of her asshole on either side of that string. Fuck, I wanted to rim her forbidden pucker. Mom’s left knee hit the back of the couch while her right knee hovered over the floor beyond the edge of the cushion. She turned her feet onto their outer edges, bringing them together, and she sat with her legs resembling a wide-open bear trap that needed springing.

The urge to rush between my mother’s thighs rumbled through my body. I wanted to lunge forward. I needed to. For a moment, the world swooned, and it seemed as if nothing could stop me from moving between my mother’s legs and taking what I wanted. My vision narrowed, focusing on the visible flesh beneath my mother’s panties, and as the primal desire to take what I wanted settled over me, my mother’s voice cut through my near loss of control, bringing me back to reality.

“Take the picture,” Mom whispered, her voice thick and husky. “I need to get to work.”

I raised my camera, pointing it right between my mother’s legs. I looked at her muff, the meat of her pussy squished and contained beneath her too-tight panties, then I looked at the viewscreen, then back at my mother. Snap. I lowered my phone, stared between my mother’s legs, then raised the camera again and snapped several more pictures. I took my time, looking, not looking, listening as my mother’s breathing grew deeper, and the mesh fabric centered over her slit dampened to a darker color against her pussyhole.

A deep groan escaped my lips when the first of Mom’s juices became visible to my eyes.

“Mark,” Mom whispered. “Don’t be vulgar.”

“I can’t help it,” I whispered. “Yours is the”–I paused, trying to will my mental bravado to the surface–“your”–I swallowed–“your pussy is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“Mark” Mom said in a gentle tone, “thank you.”

I snapped another picture, then zoomed in between her legs and snapped another. My cock hurt, the shaft aching, and the tip alive with an energy that kept my precum flowing. I reached out with my left hand, holding my phone with my right hand.

“Mark,” Mom sighed, warning me with her tone. “Mark, Mark… Mark.” She closed her lips when I placed my hand on the inside of her right knee, the sound of my name fading away to nothing.

My fingers made the journey down Mom’s thigh, stopping to absorb their outer softness and inner firmness. The further down my mother’s leg I went, the warmer my hand grew. When my fingertips brushed the softest meat of her inner thigh, right before the dip leading into the hollow between her leg and outer labia, Mom shivered and placed a hand over mine. She stopped my fingertips an inch away from her panties. As I held my hand against her, I swear I saw her pussy pulse as if swelled by the excitement or the desire coursing through her in the same way I could flex my cock whenever I chose. Whether it was my imagination or not, I believed that I had just seen her cunny reaching outward for my touch.

“Mom,” I said, my voice sounding far away to my ears. “Your pussy would be even prettier if you weren’t wearing your panties.”

Mom’s next breath trembled as she pulled air into her lungs.

“Please?” I curled my fingers, rubbing the tips over Mom’s sensitive flesh. “Seeing wouldn’t be the same as touching.” I looked up at her. She had her eyes locked on my hand, but she must have felt me staring because she raised her gaze to meet mine. “I was going to see Jenna today, but I don’t have to.”

“You can see Jenna,” Mom whispered. “You just can’t do anything sexual with her.”

“Then I won’t do anything sexual with her,” I said, “if you help me with those urges.”

Mom closed her eyes.

I pushed my hand forward, dragging her hand along for the ride. My fingertips met the leg band of her panties, and her pussy seemed to swell towards my digits. The dew between her lips had pasted her panties to the softness of her muff, and her pussy looked eager and desperate for my attention.

“Keep your eyes closed,” I said as gently as I could. “I’m going to take your panties off you… and keep them for myself.”

I had no idea that I was going to say that.

Mom trembled.

She visibly trembled.

“Okay,” Mom whispered, keeping her hand on mine.

I set my phone on the back of the couch. Mom kept her eyes closed, but when I placed my right hand on the inside of her left thigh, she placed her left hand over mine. I moved down her flesh, welcomed by her heat and the guidance she offered me. My fingertips moved between her legs, my eyes following, and my mouth watering as I took in the bottom of her cheeks, her little, string-covered asshole and the triangle of her labia draped in transparent silk.

My fingertips connected with the outer nylon band of her panties, then moved upward, using the fabric as a pathway to her waistband. As my finger moved upward, my thumbs followed behind, and I pressed against the outer edges of my mother’s thicker pussy lips, squeezing their softness gently and puffing them outward against the crotch of her panties.

Mom released a surprised whine, her palms pressing against the backs of my hands.

A low, feral growl rumbled through my chest and into my throat.

My thumbs continued to follow my fingers, only they pushed against the outer edge of Mom’s panties, touching damp skin and slipping half an inch beneath them. The heat from my mother’s labia and mound seared my skin, and a cloud-like tingling surrounded my balls. My knob came to life with extra-sensory perceptions, and I had to pull my thumbs from my mother’s panties before I wasted my morning nut in my shorts.

I brushed the waistband of Mom’s panties. The elastic dug into her skin, creating tender bulges of flesh around the band. I plucked at the nylon as though they were harp strings, and Mom moved her palms back and forth across my hands. Her breathing had quieted, but it was still ragged, and as I curled my fingertips beneath the elastic, Mom’s breath caught. I pulled downward. Her hands pressed hard into mine, then nodding, as though to herself, she eased the pressure against me and released her breath.

I tugged her panties downward. Sitting as she was, it was impossible to get them off her body. Mom brought her knees together. I maneuvered my arms up and outside of her legs, not once breaking contact with her G-string. With my arms outside of her legs, she seemed so small to me. So easy to take from. So easy to have. I pulled her panties down her hips and around her ass. Mom had to lift her butt from the cushion before I could slide them around the bottom of her butt and pull them up her legs to her knees, where up and over and down toward her feet they went. The micro-string that had been resting in the crack of her ass was now riding her shins, sputtering down her legs until I had her panties around her ankles.

“Step out of your panties, Mom.”

Mom did as I told her to do. Lifting her small left foot first, then her right, and setting them back down the moment I pulled her panties out from under her. I set them by her phone, her pussy scent drifting toward my nostrils and blooming within my nose. My cock thickened, and I fought the urge to grab my cock and jerk it until I was coming on my mother’s feet.

“Thank you, Mom,” I said, placing my hands on her ankles and sliding them around the sides of her calves and up to her knees, where I rested my palms flat against her. “I’m just going to spread you open, okay?”

Mom nodded.

I paused with my hands on her knees and asked, “Okay, Mom?”

Mom waited several seconds before she said, “Okay, Mark.”

“Okay, what, Mom?” My heart thundered. “Okay, what?”

“Okay,” Mom whispered, “you can spread me open.”

See, my cock said, Mom just needed a bit of urging. Do you think Dad tells her what to do?

I ignored my dick as I spread my mother’s knees to the sides. She kept the soles of her feet together. It felt as if I were spreading open the halves of a sandwich to discover what kind of meat lay inside. Mom’s inner lips were barely protruding from her outer lips, forming a lickable crescent of wet flesh coated in a glistening layer of sticky dew. The jewel of her clit had popped outward, small and shiny, like a smooth pearl, while her clitoral hood had thickened with lust, pushing out from between the upper swells of her outer lips. Above, her sexy, sun-kissed pubic hairs formed a thick but narrow landing strip that I wanted to cover in my cum.

“Mom,” I whispered, my breathing as heavy as my heartbeat, “you’re so beautiful between your thighs.”

An odd sound escaped my mother’s lips, sounding like a half-sob. I raised my eyes to her face and saw that she was trembling. Her lips, her eyes, and her expression twitched in a mixture of shame and rosy-cheeked desire. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to slide my tongue against her lips and into her mouth, where she’d be hot and wet, as wet as the beautiful cleft between her thighs, where came a heavenly perfume that thickened my member and ignited my desires.

“Mom,” I said, “I need to touch you again. I need to press my lips against you, or Jenna’s virginity won’t be safe from my cock.”

“Mark,” Mom panted, “the things you’re saying to me….”

I know, I thought. I don’t know where these words are coming from either.

“Do you want me to stop saying them?” I asked.

Mom didn’t speak, but eventually–and it was a long, cock-throbbing eventually–she shook her head from left to right and back again, several times. They were small movements, maybe an inch in either direction, but she did shake her head. She couldn’t look at me. From the corner of her left eye, a single, perfect teardrop fell.

It was a storybook tear.

A happy ending tear.

My heart slowed.

My mother was mine.

“Do you like my words?” I asked, my cock throbbing and my knob torturing me as my briefs rubbed against its sensitive surface.

Mom’s face tightened, and another tear fell, but she nodded her head, and again, her movements didn’t travel far.

“Mom,” I said, “stand up and face away from me.” I squeezed her knees. “And keep your shirt above your waist.”

Mom nodded.

She swung her legs from the couch, my hands staying in contact with her skin for as long as they could. She faced away from me, standing in front of me as I had told her to do. Her off-the-shoulder long-sleeved shirt hid her right shoulder but exposed her left, the dainty slope from behind was cute enough to nibble. Her long hair hung down to the middle of her back, longest in the center and getting shorter closer to the sides, forming a downward pointing arrowhead. She had her hands in front of her, with her shirt rolled up around her waist, exposing her perfect, pear-shaped ass. Across her waist lay the impression of her panties, their tightness leaving their mark, but they were quickly darkening back to gold.

Mom stood less than a foot away from the couch. I was near the edge, but I was also sitting back far enough to appreciate the sight before me. I loved how her small ass had some shape but was still small, far from flat, but far from the bubble butt atop Jenna’s thick, athletic thighs. A shadow darkened her crack, where her cheeks pressed together, and below her ass, where her inner cheeks swept away at their base, I could lay my eyes on the golden crescent of her sex.

The heart-shaped gap between Mom’s legs gave my vision complete access to her pussy. She had soft and tender outer lips, separated from her inner lips by narrow creases, and her inner lips slid out from between them. They were pink, a soft horizon-pink, with a beautiful line between them that glistened with her thick honey, a crystal-like film with highlights of white that made her yummy, little cunny shine.

Was her pink clam tasty?

The wet folds of swollen flesh between her legs had to be. I had licked her juices from my fingers last night–licked my fingers until every trace of her flavor coated the nerve endings in my mouth, leaving my taste buds shaking in pleasure and my salivary glands bubbling.

I took a deep breath.

I was about to taste my mother’s pussy for the first time. Holy shit, I was about to have my mother’s pussy in my mouth!

A thought came to me before I could move forward. A shocking realization that made my insides warm until my cheeks turned hot. My mother and my father had been high school sweethearts. They had been junior high sweethearts. Mom had only ever let one man touch her before giving me that same pleasure. My heart trembled as I raised my hands to my mother’s hips and took them in my grasp. For the rest of her life, Mom would be keeping it in the family.

Mom turned her head to the left as far as she could, tilting her head and looking down at me over her shoulder. I looked up and smiled at her, though I didn’t know if she could see me. I was six inches from the top of her ass crack, my nose inhaling her floral scent. I tightened my grip on her hips, puckered my lips, and placed a single kiss above the start of her crack.

A shiver ran through my mother’s body. I pulled her to me as I moved my lips lower, finding the depression of her crack and wiggling a kiss into her center groove. I kissed lower, shifting my body on the couch, giving myself enough room to taste my mother’s curves. My tongue came out on its own, licking Mom’s skin. It was as if I could taste her warmth. I watched small, whitish goosebumps rise across the surface of her flesh, and the finest of hairs on her body stood on end, their color so light that they could have been invisible.

“Do you?” Mom asked, her voice catching as I slid my hands below her hips and pulled them back, digging my fingers into her cheeks and pulling them apart as I laid the bottom of my tongue along her crack.

“Do I what?” I asked after I licked my way back to the top of her ass.

“Do you do this to Jenna?” Mom asked, panting, her body swooning as I move downward, stopping right above the deeper depression of her perfectly blonde, almost bleached asshole.

“Sometimes,” I mumbled against her skin, turning my face in the crack of her ass and rubbing my cheeks against her butt cheeks. “She loves it, but it makes her feel funny.”

I dug my fingers into Mom’s ass again and pulled her cheeks as far apart as I could. My lips dipped inward, and I planted a kiss on her pucker, feeling her heat and then tasting the thicker flavor of her asshole as I pressed my tongue against her rosebud.

“Oh god,” Mom gasped. I had to squeeze her thighs to keep her from falling over. “You shouldn’t. Jenna’s too young”–her voice squeaked as I pushed the tip of my tongue hard against her asshole–“too young for you to do this to her!”

I smiled against her ass and flicked her hole with up and down licks of my tongue. Had Mom looked through my tablet?