A Mother’s Worry – part 23

I could only hear the slurping of my mouth and tongue as I snacked on my mother’s snatch.

“Mark,” Mom whispered, putting her right hand in my hair and pushing hard against me.

My heartbeat rose. Mom’s breathing grew deeper–harder–stronger. Was Dad coming? Was my father about to catch us? What would he say if he found me on my knees, swallowing his wife’s twat? My cock hurt beneath my jeans, bending against the threaded fabric and straining my shaft as it tried to rip through the metal teeth of my zipper. Mom pushed harder against me, even humping her pussy into my mouth–trying to push me from the candy-like taste of her sweet muff.

“Am I cooking dinner?” Dad asked from around the dining room corner.

I stood, spun around, and opened the freezer-side door to the fridge. The stainless steel hid my body and the tent that had formed in my pants. Cool air hit me, chilling the sweat on my skin, and I widened my eyes, trying to find my focus as my heartbeat raced twice as hard as it had a second ago. I didn’t really want my father to catch us, did I? I’d love to share Mom with him–I loved my parents. Instead of searching my brain for an answer, I grabbed a piece of ice, stuck half of it in my mouth, and then wiped it across my lips and chin to wash my mother’s juices from my face.

Behind me, Dad was saying, “… I don’t know, but I could order a pizza. I’m one drink away from my pill, and I don’t feel like cooking.”

“Pizza is fine,” Mom said, speaking with a slightly higher pitch than normal.

“Pizza, Mark?” Dad asked.

“You know it,” I said as my bloated salami deflated in record time. “We should get one with everything on it.”

“Aw, to be young again,” Dad said. “I was such a stud! I could eat anything and stay as lean as a hound.”

I laughed and turned away from the fridge, nodding my head. “Sure you could,” I said. “I’ll be in the living room.” My eyes met Mom’s eyes for an instant. “We should turn the lights low and watch some movies.”

“That is a good idea,” Mom said, her voice catching and her nipples poking through her cotton dress.

I headed toward the living room as Dad said, “Sounds like a plan.”

Once on the couch, in the center seat next to where Mom would sit, I pulled out my phone, but Jenna hadn’t texted me again. I texted her, So, are you in therapy, or is your dad going to let me have that ass? I laughed, and I waited, but no response came by the time Mom and Dad joined me in the living room.

“Lights off, Dad?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, drawing out the word, “that sounds about right.”

“Are we going to cuddle?” Mom asked Dad as he settled down on his couch.

Dad cringed and said, “I’d love to. But I have to take my pill soon.” He offered her a weak smile. “And if we cuddle, I’m going to want to stay up, if you know what I mean, and I need the sleep.”

“That’s great, Dad,” I said.

“Hey,” he said, winking at Mom, “if I have to hear about your girlfriend, then you can hear what I have to say. At least my dame doesn’t have to ask her daddy for permission.”

“All right.” I laughed and tried not to look at Mom. “I’ll shut up.”

“Good lad,” Dad said.

“Fine,” Mom said. “I’ll cuddle with my son.” Mom turned toward me, hiding her face from dad as she slid her tongue across her lips.

“Cuddle?” I asked, groaning.

“Yeah,” Dad said. “You do that. You’re lucky, boy”–he looked at me–“when I was growing up, grown men didn’t cuddle with their mothers. We had to sneak in our hugs, and the more hugs you can get today, the more memories you’ll have when it’s too late to make new ones.”

“Words of wisdom,” Mom said, sitting down next to me. “So, don’t pout.”

“I don’t pout,” I said. “I’m a man.”

“Then don’t sulk,” Mom whispered. “Now, get over here and cuddle with your mother.”

Dad laughed, and I smiled, as did Mom. I drew my legs up onto the couch and slid behind my mother as she lay on her side in front of me. Dad used his magic remote to kill the lights throughout the house and close the blackout curtains. He flipped through channels and logged onto a streaming service, selecting a small but well-made, action-packed drama.

“This good?” Dad asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

Mom echoed me before the word had finished leaving my lips.

Dad hit PLAY, and we lay back in the near-darkness to watch.

“Grab the couch blanket,” Mom half-whispered to me, her voice low enough to raise my heartbeat but high enough to stay hidden from Dad’s ears.

Just another night, I thought, realizing that horniness had kept me from feeling the cool of the house. I pulled the thin blanket from atop the back of the couch and arranged it over Mom and me, my feet sticking out of the end, hers not. Once comfortable, I placed my hand on Mom’s side.

Mom pushed her butt against me, wiggling her ass into the tenting crotch of my jeans. I should have worn shorts, I thought, but it was too late now. I looked toward my father, unable to see his face, and knowing that he couldn’t see us, but there was something different about tonight. The excitement of getting caught had replaced my fear of getting caught. Releasing a long breath into Mom’s ear, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her lobe while squeezing her side.

Mom placed her hand on mine, squeezing my fingers, then she patted the back of my hand as if she knew how I felt. She’s as much mine as Dad’s, I thought. More so. I owned my mother’s pussy–not her heart–but her pussy. I thought, at that moment, that no matter what happened in our lives, Mom would always love me as much as Dad, never more and never less. Sharing my mother’s love with my father brought a smile to my face. Mom tugged upward on my hand, and I followed her command.

I let my hand run up my mother’s side, dragging her dress upward as I dipped down to caress her stomach. Its in-and-out movements gave away how excited she felt. I moved upward across her sternum, her heartbeat beating a quick rhythm against my palm as I pushed my fingers between her smallish breasts, her upper tit pressing into the thumb of my left hand. I moved back down then up, outlining the bottom of her left tit between the webbing of flesh running from my thumb to my forefinger. Mom released a shaky breath. I moved downward to do the same to her other tit. I wanted to do more, but we had a pizza coming, and my cock was already demanding that I lift my mother’s dress and push myself into the warm folds between her legs that I had recently claimed as my own.

I spent the next fifteen minutes caressing my mother, touching her side, her ribs, her thighs, and tracing the curve of her butt and the triangle between her legs, where heaven lay. Mom’s breathing rose, and she grabbed my hand, doing her best to move my fingers over her cunny and tits whenever I came close to them. She pouted once as I ran my fingertips over her mound but stopped short of molesting the lips below. I gave Mom a few humping motions, digging my cock into her ass but never going for the most sensitive spots on her body.

When the pizza arrived, two mediums, one full of meats, peppers, mushrooms, and onions, and the other covered in cheese, we paused our game to plate our food. Mom only ate a slice, and I didn’t want the pizza weighing me down, so I only ate three pieces. Dad ate four, two slices from each pizza, saying to me, “Watching your weight?”

“I’ll eat the rest later,” I said, smiling. “After I work up an appetite. I think I need to do some cardio before bed.”

“Don’t mess up your sleeping routine,” Dad said. “Eighteen or not, you’re not going to be up all night and asleep all day this summer.”

“If I could, I’d be up all night and all day.”

Mom uttered a surprised-sounding laugh.

I smiled.

We ate, and Dad finished his second glass of whiskey, then he said, “I can do one more and be safe.”

“Ritch,” Mom said, using that drawn-out, disapproving tone.

“I’m not even drunk, baby, don’t worry.” Dad smiled. “And, since tomorrow is Friday, I’m going to forgo my pills and show you the benefits of marrying an insomniac.”

I chuckled.

Mom smiled, and I thought, Will she ask me if she can fuck Dad? The thought made me look at my phone, but Jenna still hadn’t texted me. Interesting.

We finished, and Mom cleaned up, though my hard-on had gone down. I had said, “I’ll take care of the mess,” but Mom countered with, “No, I like doing things for my men.” I was one of Mom’s men, and the thought made my cheeks warm. We settled back into the couch and watched more TV–as a family. Dad sipped his whiskey and took his pill while I readied myself to molest my mother as my father lay in the room with us.

As soon as Dad had popped his pill and relaxed his head, I put my hand on my mother’s thigh below her dress. Her warm skin dampened my palm, and goosebumps rose against my fingers as I swept my touch upward beneath her dress. Mom pressed her ass against me, wiggling it left to right and back again, keeping her buns tight against my crotch. I slid my hand up to her hip and then to her waist, taking her dress with me and leaving her legs exposed beneath the blanket. My hand went backward after this, cupping her left butt cheek before pulling her dress up to her lower back, leaving her butt naked and at the mercy of my touch.

Dad yawned. Mom looked in his direction. Her next breath came deep and heavy as my fingers turned toward the cushions and dipped into her crack. I pulled upward, opening her cheeks and stretching her little asshole, my fingers slipping from her soft crescent when I couldn’t pull her ass open any further. Her cheek jiggled and rippled, and I moved my hand over her thigh toward her front.

Pubic hairs, damp with sweat, tickled my palm. I loved Mom’s hair. I wanted more of it, a nice triangular bush that felt like a teenager’s downy fuzz. I wanted to keep the edges of her mound hairless as well as the cunny meat from her clitoral hood on down. I remembered pictures on the internet of beautiful, blonde Scandinavian goddesses with wisps of blonde hair along their tan skin. Some had tiny hairs near their assholes, shining in the sun like golden threads reflecting the light. That’s what I wanted from Mom, just a little bit of hair, so small and spaced far enough apart that I had to search for them under the sunlight if I wanted to see them.

Those thoughts made me cup my mother’s pussy harder than I meant to.

Mom’s body stiffened, and her face tightened, then she relaxed as I eased my grip on her snatch. Hot, honeyed wetness had coated my fingertips when they had slipped along the line of Mom’s inner cunny lips, and they came away sticky with dew and warm to the touch when I pulled them away. I raised my hand up my mother’s body, pushed my fingers against her lips, and slid them into her mouth. Her tongue licked my two largest digits clean, and I eased my hand down my mother’s body again, going back to collect more of her sweet nectar.

Thick slipperiness greeted my fingers when I pressed my middle and forefinger between my mother’s lower lips. I wanted to hear the wet sounds, but even though I couldn’t see him, I knew my father was still awake. Mom’s breathing had deepened as I played with her, and she kept trying to look at Dad through the arms of our couches. I had my right arm under her neck, and with a little adjusting, I was able to push my middle finger into her mouth. Mom sucked it down with a silent hunger that made my heart flutter and my cock ache. I mimicked the fuck-motions I liked to use when I fucked her mouth with my prick, matching them to my pussy-delving, which sent Mom’s ass into a rapid fuck-cycle against my cock.

Dad yawned.

Mom reached behind her butt with her left hand and played with my belt and buckle. I needed to stop wearing a belt around the house. There was no need for a belt… unless I wanted to use my belt on my mother. Hmm…. Mom unhooked my belt without making a sound, and she pushed her hand into my pants and boxer briefs, searching for and finding my cock, our bodies moving together, giving each other room to play.

“Umm,” Mom grunted as I fingered her deep, but the sound came out low, so low that I barely heard her–I felt the grunt more than I heard it.

I eased up my pussy-stroking before moving my hand from her front to her back, slipping it beneath her forearm and down between her cheeks, cupping her pussy from behind. Mom sighed, as did I as I held her softness in my palm, our sounds covered by the action on the TV. After holding her cunny bulge for nearly a minute, enjoying the heat and tenderness within those pouty folds, I slid my two biggest fingers into her pussy again.

Dad set his glass on the floor. Mom and I paused everything: our movements, our breathing, our caressing, stroking, and fingering. Dad lifted his hand back to his chest and said, “I think I’m about to pass out.”

Mom pushed on my mouth-fucking fingers with her tongue, and when I pulled them out, she asked, “Ritch, do you want to go upstairs?”

“Nah,” Dad said, yawning. “Maybe”–he yawned–“later.”

“Okay,” Mom whispered as I slid my fingers into the rubbery-wet friction of her pussy channel from behind.

For the next ten minutes, I worked my mother’s pussy by rubbing upward as I pushed into her, grazing her G-spot. My thumb traced her pussy lips, gathering her natural lube before placing the tip against her smooth asshole. Mom tensed as I teased her backdoor with gentle pulses that poked her rosebud inward. A couple of these strokes was all it took before Mom closed her eyes and brought her left hand to her mouth, opening her jaw and biting onto her forefinger to keep from making the kinds of noises the TV couldn’t hide.

“Do you think he’s asleep?” I whispered in my mother’s ear.

Mom nodded her head.

“Should we check before I fuck you?” I asked, my words a caress punctuated by the feather-like sweep of my tongue against her lobe.

Mom shook her head.

“What if Dad’s awake?”

Mom shook her head.

“I’m going to fuck you.” I licked her earlobe again. “I’m going to fuck you right now, whether Dad’s awake or not.”

Mom nodded her head.

Three drinks, and he took his pill, I thought, looking at Dad’s couch over the armrest, he’s asleep. He had to be, or I was a dead man, and yet, my cock still tried to get harder because I was doing this to my mother while near my father.

I pushed the blanket to the floor.

Mom froze.

Dad didn’t move.

I moved up, sliding my back up the backrest, and I pulled Mom onto her front, leaving her lying prone beneath my body as I threw my left leg over her and balanced myself on my knees. Dad was asleep. Mom’s dress lay on her upper back, exposing her pear-shaped ass, though the light from the TV hadn’t chased away the shadows clinging to her form. Mom brought her arms forward, bracing her hands against the armrest, and there she waited, her breathing growing heavy as I laid my thick cock in the crack of her hot ass.

“What if he’s not asleep,” I said, speaking loud enough for my father to hear us.

Mom didn’t hesitate to answer, “You own this pussy, fuck it anyway,” loud enough for Dad to hear had he been awake.

My heart froze, yet precum fell from the tip of my prick and onto my mother’s lower back. Dad said nothing. He was asleep. I slid my body backward, my cock riding my mother’s soft crack and my knob slipping between her legs into the steamy, heart-shaped gap where her pussy lay hiding. When I touched the heat of her cunny meat, we both sighed, our sounds filling the room.

I didn’t have to grab my cock to get inside of Mom, and neither did Mom, but she did reach back and grab the bottoms of her ass cheeks, spreading them open for me. My cock was already there. A stream of precum spurted onto the line of my mother’s slit as she invited me into her muff. I pushed, and Mom’s pussy meat sank inward and spread outward, and her clam swallowed my glans past my corona.

“Uh,” Mom groaned. She let go of her ass and braced her hands against the armrest again. “Come on, baby, give Momma that big dick.”

I eased my member into my mother’s pussy, giving her an inch, wetting my shaft, pulling out and pushing back in, her juices slowly coating my dick’s length as her pussy expanded to take me a little at a time. I wasn’t lubed yet, but she was wet, and with some pushing and poking and a little force, I opened my mother’s hole a little at a time as the semi-wet friction made us gasp, moan, and groan together.

Fighting that dry-to-wet friction almost made me come, the pressure on my dick sending chills through my head and shaft. My knob sang with pleasure, and the very tipped itched as though I were about to unload ropes of jizz at any second. I don’t know how I didn’t come, but I didn’t.

“I wish we were watching porn,” Mom moaned as my hips pressed into her ass. “With your father right there.”

I moaned, then pulled out and pumped in, using a smooth glide through her tight hole and circling my hips with a dancer’s grace. Mom turned her head and bit her arm. I pumped her faster, then harder, then eased up on her pussy to fuck her with shallow thrusts. Mom couldn’t spread her legs, and even if she could, I wasn’t going to let her. I pushed in, my spongy tip bumping into something soft and mushy in her depths that made Mom grunt hard.

Holding my cock inside of her felt like heaven, but when I ground my hips against her ass, swinging my cock in circles between her pussy folds, Mom uttered a surprised, “Oh,” followed by several whimpers that rose in pitch. I kept my left hand braced against the armrest while lowering my right hand under Mom’s body, cupping her right tit as I fed her eager beaver longer strokes of my throbbing rod. The cushions beneath us caved inward. Mom’s body bounced up and down as my hips slapped her ass, and my balls banged against her thighs. After a minute of this, I sped up, giving my mother’s pussy a good thumping that forced her to press her palms hard against the armrest, making it creak.

“Uh–uh–uh,” Mom grunted, arching her back and trying to raise her ass. “Uh, fuck–UH!–fuck!”

“Not even a thunderbolt from Zeus,” I panted.

Mom laughed, then gasped, “Oh, fuck, you get deep from that–oh, god–angle, baby.” I dug my cock into her twat as far as I could and flexed my ass, driving my tip deeper into her juicy tunnel. “Oh, shit, too deep”–Mom yelped–“too deep, Mark!”

I pulled out halfway.

Mom uttered a grateful sigh, whispering, “You’re going to ruin this pussy.”

“Do you want to get on top?” I asked, panting.

“Are you making me?” Mom was breathing harder than I was.

“Yeah,” I said, slipping my prick from the softness between her legs.

I moved to the side as Mom rose to her knees. I slid between her legs, resting my back against the armrest and reaching behind my head, finding the lamp on the end table, and pulled the chain switch, turning on the lamp. Light washed over me, a soft glow that managed to illuminate my mother’s body. Her dress lay bunched between her legs, leaving her tan thighs uncovered as she straddled me.

“Ride my dick hard, Mom,” I said. “I want you to come first. I want to feel your cum all over my balls.”

Mom bit her lower lip and nodded her head, her smoky eyes looking into mine and her regal, elfish features appearing ready for a fight. And maybe she was. I didn’t know. I had a big cock, and for a woman with a pussy as small as hers, perhaps it was like jumping into an unwinnable wrestling match every time we fucked.

Mom pinched her dress near her thighs and pulled it upward, exposing her blonde-furred pussy to my eyes. She raised her butt from my thighs, hovered her pussy above my straight-as-an-arrow cock, and sat down, grimacing and moaning as my thickness parted the silky line of flesh between her legs.