Chapter 2

That night, there were no innuendos, no teasing glimpses, no flirting of any kind. Mom treated me like her son, like she always had before. I decided not to torture myself. I went to bed early. At the top of the stairs, I spontaneously turned and yelled down, “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight son,” he automatically responded.

“Hey, Mom, you forgot to give me a kiss goodnight,” and I quickly retreated to my room. I undressed quickly and got into bed. Mom knocked lightly and came into my room five minutes later.

“That was quick. It took me ages to get you into bed when you were little.” Then she laughed at herself, “Not that I’m trying to now. That was a ballsy thing you said. It’s a good thing your father lives on another planet most of the time.”

“Well, you’re here now, Mom, so give me a kiss.”

“Alright, but just a kiss.”

“Ok, but you have to turn out the light and lay on the bed. I want a real kiss, not a quick peck.”

“Alright, but you be good,” she said, and turned out the light. A moment later I felt her kneel on the bed and then stretch out to lay beside me. She reached over to me, touching my shoulder and then the side of my face.

“Aren’t you wearing your pajama tops?” she asked.

“No, it’s too hot,” I replied and pulled her to me for a kiss. We snogged for a couple of minutes and then I pulled her on top of me. I centered her pussy over me and slid my hands down over her ass and pulled at her legs, parting them around my hard cock. I pressed upward.

When our kiss broke, she said, “Dougie, you’re being very naughty again. Your Dad’s right downstairs watching TV.”

“I know, Mom. That’s why you have to let me play quickly, because we only have a few minutes,” I argued lamely.

“OK, you can play for a few minutes,” she said, and lowered her head to kiss me. I pulled the hem of her skirt up while we were kissing so only her panties were between us. She must have realized then that I was naked. I had no pajamas or undies on. My bare cock thrust against her panty covered mound. I slid my hands up onto her ass and held her in place while I started little fuck motions against her.

She broke our kiss. “Oh, you little bugger,” she said, breathing in little gasps as my cock lunged between her slit. She was genuinely surprised, “You little bugger!”

I laughed in her ear, holding her against me, rubbing harder and longer against her, pausing to grind my cock into her pussy. “I’m a little bugger, Mommy,” I said, sliding my hand down her cheek, between her legs, and pushing with my fingers against the bottom of her pussy through her thin panties next to her damp cunt. I started to shove my cock up and down the channel formed between her pussy lips.

“Oh, oh, oh, ugh, ugh ohhhh, ohhh, ooohhhh, ugh, ungghhhh. Oh, you little shit!” She started pressing back on me, spreading herself open around my cock.

“Come on me, Mom. Come on me. Come.” She started to thrust in earnest, in time to my shoves against her cunt. I tongued her ear, and pushed the finger stroking the rear of her panty inside and rubbed it along the line between her ass and her pussy.

“oh, oh, oh, uh uh uh, uhh uhhhhh ungnhhhh, unnnnghghhhhh.” She collapsed on me, her pussy twitching and periodically pulsing against my cock.

“You little bastard, you little bastard,” she gasped out, trying to catch her breath.

“I can’t help it, Mom. I love you. I want to fuck you.”

“No! That will never happen.”

“But it feels good, doesn’t it Mom?”, I asked.

“Yes.” She pushed her pussy against my cock as her body involuntarily agreed with her. “Yes it does, but I won’t let you fuck me. I just can’t.”

“Then let’s just say goodnight like this, Mom, our own secret ritual.”

“You’re only supposed to look, remember?”

“But I like rubbing against you. It’s only fair if you won’t let me have you.” I whined in a little kid’s voice.

“Oh, don’t try to pull that on me. I’ll think about it. You can give me a little rub now and then, maybe, if you’re a good boy, but that’s all.”

“OK. Mom?”

“Yes?”

“If you wake up and can’t sleep you should come and wake me up too. I don’t want you to be alone if you wake up at night.”

“Oh, my god, your Father. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get downstairs,” she cried in a panicky voice, springing up and rushing to the door where she paused, gathered her wits, opened the door, and exited into the hall, talking back to me in a voice loud enough to be heard downstairs, “Goodnight, dear, we’ll talk about it in the morning. Sweet dreams.”

She didn’t come again that night. The next day, things were back to the normal mom/son relationship. Mom was particularly conservative in her dress. I didn’t complain, or act miffed in any way. Patience, I was learning, reaped huge rewards. I paid no extra attention to her. When she skipped floor waxing day, I didn’t mention it. I just kept treating her like a regular Mom.

One day, Mom came home around noon dressed in a flowered, sleeveless dress hemmed just above her knees. It swirled about her lovely legs as she walked. It was the most liberal thing she had worn for two weeks. It was a summer dress cut a little lower and held together by buttons all down the front. She fussed about in the kitchen for a while, emerging with a tray of sandwiches and two glasses of milk. “Do you have time for a movie break?”

“Yeah, sure, Mom,” I casually answered, feigning disinterest. “Something particular you’d like to watch?”

“How about that chick flick we missed most of the other day?”

“Absolutely,” I replied, and went to put it in the DVD player, intrigued that she was raising that memory. When I turned around, she’d sat down leaving me just enough room to squeeze between her and the end of the couch. She handed me a toasted tomato sandwich as I sat down. As I took it, a little mayonnaise dripped out onto her legs, just above her knees. She ignored it, so I turned toward her and, with my right hand, used my fingers to scoop it up. I licked my fingers and said, “Ummm, spicy mayonnaise, my favorite.”

“Stop,” she laughed, then, “Start the movie, and close the drapes a bit, the light’s reflecting off the TV.”

I did as she asked, then settled in to eat my sandwiches and watch the movie. I didn’t do anything else for half an hour, ten full minutes after finishing my last sandwich. Mom was restless. She stretched her legs out on the coffee table, then pulled them back to rest her bare feet on its edge, raising her knees and letting her dress slide a little higher up her beautiful legs. Each time she changed position, she sidled a little closer to me, until her thigh was pressing tightly against me. When her dress restricted her leg movements, she undid a couple of the skirt buttons, and then a third before her foot rested comfortably on the edge of the table. She had bared a lot of leg but I just kept watching the movie.

“It’s so warm in here,” she said softly, a minute later, and undid the top two buttons on her dress. She snuggled into me, “Whew, shopping really tired me out.”

I kissed the top of her head, “Just rest, Mom.” She settled in closer, and tried to pull her feet up close to rest on the edge of the couch instead of the table. I reached down and undid two more buttons for her. If she’d stood up, her dress would have been undone from the bottom up to her belly and from the top down to her waist. She had only three buttons left holding her dress together. “Thanks, baby,” she murmured, and snuggled in closer to me.

“Stretch your legs out on the couch and have a nap.” She didn’t say anything, so I slid my arm under legs and lifted her around parallel to the couch. I made sure her dress slid up to her hips before stretching her legs out. I started to undo the remaining buttons on her dress. She didn’t open her eyes, or move to stop me.

“Are you going to have a little look, dear?”

“Yes,” I said without pausing, moving straight on to the next button.

“Ok,” she answered softly, “I’m going to rest, I’m so tired.”

Undoing the last button, I pulled her dress fully apart, baring her tummy and chest which wasn’t covered by anything. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples were hard and jutting into the air. I moved my hand over them, letting my palm gently caress and bend the nipple of each tit. She didn’t admonish me for touching her, so I pinched her nipple between my fingers and tugged, rolling it gently back and forth. Her breath quickened. She arched her back slightly and smiled, “Do you like that, Dougie?”

“Yes, Mom. Do you?”

“Yes,” she replied, turning her head toward me, eyes still closed, inhaling sharply as I tugged harder on her nipple. I continued to play with her tits, kneading them and pulling her nipples until they were fully extended, then I leaned down and took her left tit into my mouth, sucking the nipple back hard.

“Oh, Doug, Doug, Doug,” she cried, hoarsely, but she didn’t try to stop me. When she put her hands on my head, she kept it in place, her fingers curling in my hair. I slid my hand down her pulsing tummy toward her snatch until it came to rest lightly cupping her mound. I continued to suck her tits. “Oh, Doug, oh Dougie, oh Doug,” she kept saying over and over. I started moving my finger sideways across her pussy lips, digging into her. I could tell from her very ragged breathing that she really liked this. I slipped my fingers under her panties and quickly resumed. She arched her back up, causing my mouth to envelop her whole tit. She coated my fingers, moving her legs apart. I raised my head to look at her. She was stunning, eyes closed, face flushed. She turned her head, opened her eyes, and looked at me. I formed a small cock with my three middle fingers and pushed it into her cunt. Her face scrunched up, her mouth opening into a big ‘O’.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Douuugggiee!”

I moved up toward her, grasped the back of her hair with my left hand, pushing her knees up to her chest with my shoulder, keeping my right hand in her. I stared down at her and started working my fingers in and out of her, grinding and twisting them into her cunt.

“Oh, god, oh god, oh god,” she started saying over and over. I kept working her pussy until she flooded my fingers. She went still. I stood up and shucked my t-shirt and started unbuckling my jeans.

“No, Doug, you can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“I’m just going to rub against you Mom,” I said, gasping for breath, desperately pushing my jeans down over my legs, kicking them off.

“Ok, baby, but just rubbing.” She closed her eyes and opened her legs to welcome me.

With her eyes closed, I shucked my undies before climbing between her legs and quickly pressed my cock against her panties. Her eyes opened. I started humping furiously against her. “No, keep your undies on,” she complained, sounding panicked.

“It’s too late,” I cried, grinding at her pussy. In less than a minute, I leapt up over her breasts and leaned my knees against the couch arm on either side of her head, dangling my cock over her face. She was surprised and not sure what to make of this. “I can’t mess the couch, Mom,” I said, “I can’t get it on the floor,” and pressed my cock to her lips. I could see comprehension dawn on her face, and then resistance. “Hurry,” I said, “I can’t wait!” I pushed harder. Her lips opened and I shoved my cock into her mouth.

I just held it there, expecting to come right away, but I didn’t. I think the shock of being in her mouth stopped me from coming. I don’t know how else to explain it. I started to work it in and out of her mouth slowly. Fuck, this was unbelievable. I was fucking my Mom’s face. I reached down and held her head. She couldn’t move back but she could have twisted sideways to pop me out. I moved back and forth slowly, trying to push in a little more each time. When she gagged, I pulled right out and waited, then pushed in until she gagged again. I fucked her mouth, pulling out, rubbing my cock on her face, then pushing back in. Finally, I came in her mouth, spurting wildly. As her throat backed up, refusing to take anymore. I pulled out and squirt the rest of my spunk on her face.

I immediately got up and ran to the bathroom. I knew she’d be mad. She caught up to me as I was washing my cock in the sink and let me have it.

“But I had to Mom, I couldn’t come all over the couch. And you were choking at the end, I had to pull out,” I pleaded with her to forgive me.

“Yes, I was choking,” she said almost absently, her eyes glued to my cock as I was cleaning it. Her eyes followed my hand as I soaped my cock, slowly squeezing the ring formed by my palm and fingers up and down.

“You’re bigger than your father.” She said in a small voice.

“Yeah?” I said, cleaning in longer strokes now, feeling myself harden. “Much bigger, Mom?” I asked, turning it toward her.

“Yes, I think so,” she said, keeping her eyes on it.

“Does it feel bigger?” I grabbed her hand and closed it around my cock, just below the head. She instinctively tried to pull her hand away, but I held in there. “Is it bigger, Mom?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“Jack me, Mom. I need it,” I begged her, “Please, Mom.”

There was no sign of her anger as she slowly pumped my cock. After a few minutes I put my hand on her shoulder and gently pressed her onto her knees in front of me. I brought my cock close to her face and pushed the head into her mouth. She didn’t resist. I reached down, grasped both sides of her head, and started to fuck her face again. When I was near, I rasped, “On your face, Mom. I want to mark you. I want to mark you,” and groaning loudly, I pulled out and spurted all over her face for the second time that day, for the second time in my life. I pressed her tightly against my cock, “Oh god, Mom, I love you, I love you.”

When my cock softened, I pulled her up to her feet and hugged her. She was still wearing her dress, open all down the front. “We’d better clean up before Dad gets home,” I said.

“Yes,” she said and turned woodenly to go downstairs. She seemed to be in shock.

“No, Mom. You clean up here,” I said, turning her toward the sink, “I’ll take care of downstairs.”

Dinner was interesting that night. After our last encounters, Mom had acted as if nothing had happened. But now, she seemed distracted. Once, while Dad’s attention was drawn away as he tried to listen to something on the news, I caught Mom looking at me. I turned my eyes down, to my crotch, and slowly slid my gaze back to capture her eyes. Her face turned beat red. As Dad turned his attention back to the table, she sprang up, spinning away from him and quickly headed to the far counter where she fussed with some dishes until her blush subsided.

I was surprised, yet elated at the sense of power that welled up in me. I had unsettled my Mom. I was in control. Dinner over, Dad left for the living room to watch the rest of the news. I grasped Mom’s hand as she rose to follow him, holding her back. I stood and pulled her back with me until I was pressed against the far counter. I could hear Dad settling back into his lazy boy chair. I pulled her hands to my crotch.

“Stop it. Your Dad is right there, in the next room!” she rebuked me.

“He’s in his chair. I can hear him if he gets up.” I could see in her face she knew this to be true. “Just touch it, Mom, that’s all, just touch it for me.” I easily held her hands there with one of mine since she didn’t try to pull them away, while I undid the button on my jeans. “Unzip me and pull it out.”

“No,” she countered.

“Yes, Mom. I’ll stop bugging you if you touch it. Just a quick touch and I’ll leave you alone.” I let go of her hands and used both of mine to pull my unbuttoned jeans apart, undoing the zipper. I quickly pulled the top of my undies down, freeing my hard cock, which sprang out toward her. “Touch it,” I demanded.

She moved both of her hands in and squeezed my cock between her soft palms. “That’s it,” I said, “Hold it like that for a minute.” I started to fuck into her improvised beaver. Her head tilted down, she watched me fuck her hands.

“Come see me tonight.” She nodded her head. The situation, the power I felt, overwhelmed me. I came in her hands, spraying my spunk all over her apron. “Remember to come,” I said, zipping up, and strode out of the room.

She didn’t come that night, and she avoided me the next day. In the evening, I sulked in my room and didn’t come downstairs until about 9 o’clock. Dad was reading some work papers and Mom was watching a movie. I sat on the couch at the opposite end from my Mom and started to watch the movie. Then I turned and just watched her. Her face started to blush.

I stretched my bare feet out and rested them against her thigh, then turned the left down and tried to dig my toes under her leg using my right to push against her hip, prying her left cheek off the couch just enough to let my left get under her thigh. Once there, I turned it outward, hooked the hem of her skirt, and dragged it up toward her pussy.

I slid my foot up between her legs until my instep was pressed against her pussy, wiggling against her panties. After a while, I pushed her cheek up again, and kept pushing, until she adjusted herself so her left side was cocked up, opening her backside to me a little. I used the access to slide the toes of my right foot into the crack of her ass, moving my big toe toward her pussy, slipping it under the little band at the bottom of her panties. I worked my big toe into the crevice between her pussy lips and started wiggling it there as I kept pressing my instep against her damp mound. I worked her pussy with small movements of my feet for a long time.

She became very wet. Her right hand clutched the arm of the couch while her left lay in her lap covering the top of her skirt. She stared intently at the TV even though only commercials were showing. Suddenly, she gripped my toe tightly, her thighs clamped my foot, and she convulsed her hips against my instep, soaking them both through a minute long series of intense, but necessarily muted vibrations. She tried to get up, but I held her in place with my feet. When I was ready, I got up, kissed my Mom on her cheek, and said goodnight to her and Dad. I went up to bed and locked my door.

She came that night, but not until very late, long after she and Dad had gone to bed. She knocked gently on my door and whispered my name. I didn’t open it.

The next day was floor waxing day. I thought she wouldn’t do it, but she came down, doffed her housecoat, and started to wax the floor. She was wearing the same slip she wore the first time. I kept studying as she worked her way toward me. I didn’t stop when she neared, and ignored her when she joined me on the couch to rest. Eventually, she got up with an angry flourish and polished the floor. I left the house to go for a walk.

I didn’t return until Dad was home. She gave me the cold treatment, but I ignored her. By dinner, she was softening, asking me if dinner was ok (she usually asked Dad this), asking me if she could pass me this or that. It was odd. I thought my Dad would notice, but he didn’t. When dinner was over, and Dad left for the TV, Mom lingered behind instead of joining him. I didn’t say anything. She just sat, appearing to be a little nervous. When she seemed about to speak, I said, “Why don’t you start the dishes, Mom.”