Mom didn't want to practice the next two nights. I wondered if Dad had said anything to her after they went to bed but decided that he hadn't. She must just be freaked about standing in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating biscuits with her husband while her son's cum dried in her panties. I rushed home from work to talk to Mom on Wednesday, knowing I had about half an hour before Dad got home. I found her at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea. I got right to the point.
"Mom, we have to practice or we'll blow the recital."
She avoided my eyes, looking down like my father had done Sunday night.
"You don't want that, do you?
"Is something wrong?"
There, I had opened it up. I had thought about this all day and was scared of this, knowing it might lead to an ultimatum.
"No. Well, not really. It's just that," Mom was twisting her fingers together on the table in front of her. "It's just that ... things went a little further than I thought. I just, I just ... oh, I'm so confused."
Tears appeared under Mom's eyes, running over her cheeks and dripping onto the table, but there was no sound, no sobbing or crying. I tried Dad's thought, that I was just an eager teenager that couldn't help himself.
"Mom, I know. It's just that, well, I can't help myself, being so close to you, you being so pretty and all."
"I know all about that, Jon. I'm not really all that worried because I know I won't let it get out of hand. You know that too, don't you?"
Mom's piercing look demanded my attention and I nodded.
"I know, Mom. Just a little fun, that's all. Maybe not so far from now on."
"Yes," Mom looked down. "Maybe not so far."
Thank god she wasn't cutting me off completely. Putting my dick into her panties was a little outrageous and I was certain if it hadn't been for the recital she would have cut me off for good. Instead, she was just putting the brakes on a little. I was pretty sure that meant I could still play with her tits, but had to keep my dick out of her panties. But maybe not my hands, I thought. She hadn't been upset after that, so that must be ok. It made sense. That must have felt good to her, but jamming my cock under her bum probably didn't do anything for her at all. I had to remember to make her feel good, I thought, repeating it, trying to burn it into my mind.
"It's something your dad said to me Sunday night. I couldn't sl**p for hours after that."
"What did he say?"
"He said all boys have a little something for their moms but it doesn't mean anything, they grow out of it."
"He said that?"
"Yes. Do you think he knows? I couldn't bear that."
"No Mom. Sunday night, after you went up to bed, Dad told me to watch myself because he could see I was a little excited."
"Really? He wasn't mad?"
"No. He said he understood, that it was natural even if the woman was your mother, especially one as good looking as you."
Mom's face flushed. Her tears had stopped and dried on her cheeks.
"He told me to be careful because you would get really, really mad if you noticed."
Mom couldn't help a little burst of quiet laughter at the irony of that.
"He told me to wear a jock strap whenever I practiced sitting right behind you."
Mom burst out laughing, loudly this time, and I joined in.
"Oh, goodness gracious," Mom said, tears in her eyes, of joy this time. "You better do as your father says," she said, laughing, "because he might check. So," she mused, "he doesn't know how far things have gone?"
"Don't say 'nope'."
"No," I corrected myself. "Is that all that was bothering you, Mom?
She said it was but I could tell there was something else. She insisted that was all. She got up and put her cup and saucer in the sink.
"Your father will be home any minute."
He should have been here now. I said as much.
"Oh, right. I asked him to stop by the store on the way home."
I was right behind Mom and she almost walked into me when she turned around. I looked down at her chest and she noted where I was looking.
"Will you show them to me, Mom?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Mom barked.
"Come on, Mom. I know they're beautiful. I can feel that."
"Come on, Mom. Let me see them so I can imagine them at night."
"You think about me at night?"
"No. That's not right for you to think about me at night ... doing what?" Mom looked inquisitively into my eyes, thought better of it and, blushing, said, "Don't tell me. I don't want to know."
Mom tried to push past me but I blocked her way, putting my hands at the top of her arms to guide her back in front of me, then sliding them down and inward to let my palms brush the sides of her breasts.
"Come on, Mom. Just a little peek."
I twisted my hand, rubbing my palms on the tops of her breasts, then started undoing a button on her white blouse.
"Stop it, Jon. Your father will be home any minute."
"No he won't," I said, slipping the button out and moving down to the next one. "If you sent him to the store, you know he'll be at least fifteen more minutes. He can't find anything in there."
"Jon, don't," Mom said as I slipped the second button undone and moved to the next.
She was saying don't but she was breathing harder.
I felt like a user saying it but I said it anyway.
"It will help me do my best at the recital."
"Don't," she said, more quietly as I loosed the third.
"No," she peeped as the fourth gave in.
"Please," she whispered as the fifth fell.
Mom didn't say anything when I undid the sixth and last button, pulling her blouse up out of her skirt to get to it. I spread the blouse open, then reached for Mom's bra, fumbling, fumbling. Mom stood, silent, arms listless at her sides as I struggled with the hook.
"Christ," I said, impatient in my haste.
"Don't swear," Mom said automatically, like a drone.
Finally, the bra twisted open. I pulled it wide and Mom's full, bare tits spilled forward, and down, bouncing.
Man. They were gorgeous. Sure they sagged down a little but they were larger than I expected after handling them. The nipples didn't point down as I'd seen in National Geographic pictures of naked older women. They sat on top, above a large, round swell, perking up nice and thick, getting longer and stiffer as I looked.
"Ahhh, Mom. These are fantastic!"
I closed my hand around the bulk of her breasts, encircling her growing nipples in the crooks of my thumbs.
"You have incredible tits," I said, expressing my delight loudly.
"Quiet," Mom's head twisted around. "Do you want the whole neighborhood to hear?"
"Wow," I cried, just as loudly, then lower, "What fantastic tits."
"Breasts," Mom corrected me.
"Tits," I repeated. "Every woman has breasts," I said, "but these are tits."
The admiration in my face showed Mom how much I meant it. She smiled, then frowned as my head lowered.
"No, Jon, don't."
But she couldn't stop me even though she raised her hands to hold my head away. My lips approached her stiff nipple as I opened my hand to make room. It stood up like a pygmy's cock.
"No," Mom repeated as my mouth enveloped her nipple and I started sucking it.
"No," Mom cried, arching her back and pushing her tit further into my mouth, her arms suddenly pulling my head down instead of trying to push it away.
I knew then what else was bothering Mom. She liked it.She liked my attention, the way I teased her, and the way it made her feel. And yes, I think she even liked standing in front of her husband, eating a pastry, with my wet cum drying on her ass. And that bothered her, because that was way out there, and she was a good, church-going woman.
If my theory was correct, I reasoned, all I had to do was take my time, move Mom along in small steps, excite her in ways she wasn't used to, in ways that would never happen with Dad, and one day, when she was really horny, she might even let me get into her.
That thought sent a zing through my cock but the crunch of tires on gravel sent a chill up my spine. Mom was bent back over the arm I had curled around the small of her back, and I was leaning over her, mouth enveloping her tit and sucking her nipple hard. My other hand was pushed between her legs, rubbing her front. Mom threw my head back with a quick snap.
"Your father," she cried, panic on her face.
For a brief moment she stood still, arms wide tits jutting from her chest, the right one soaked with my slobber, then she ran past me out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Dad and I were sitting at the kitchen table when Mom came downstairs wearing the same outfit but all buttoned up properly. She set about preparing dinner while Dad told her about his day and she commented here and there. I didn't say anything, pretending to read a magazine, and didn't look up until Dad surprised Mom with his little comment.
"You're traveling a little light today, dear," Dad said.
"Light?" Mom asked, wondering what he was talking about. Then she saw where Dad was looking. "Oh that. You don't mind, do you honey? It's so hot in the house this summer."
"Mind? No, I don't mind, but ...," Dad jerked his head in my direction.
"Jon?" Mom asked, really surprised. "He's not going to pay any attention to his old mother. Don't be ridiculous!" Mom's voice was suddenly angry.
Dad threw up his hands, capitulating before an argument even started.
"I would never go out like this, you know that, and if anyone came by I'd change."
"No, no. That's fine Mother," Dad kept backpedaling. "You're right. You should be comfortable in your own home and we're all f****y here."
"Oh, Drew. Really!" Mom was mad and turned away. Dad looked a me and ducked his head with a quick smile as if to say, 'Told you so.'
I looked at Mom, still tossing things around the counter, her breasts bouncing in reaction. I wondered if she had washed my slobber off upstairs. I thought not. I bet when she went to do it and then changed her mind, brazenly walking downstairs, braless, with my saliva still dampening her tit. I bet that shameless act sent tingles reverberating through her body, finally congregating in her special place.
Beyond the Pale
That night, Mom went upstairs and came back wearing pajamas. Man style pajamas with a cotton shirt top and bottoms. She sat on the couch for a while, reading, then, without a word she dropped her book and walked out of the room to sit in front of the piano. She started playing, practicing one of the pieces we'd been working on. I listened for a few minutes, then got up to join her.
"Maybe you should get changed too, son," Dad said as I passed in front of him.
"Changed?" I asked.
Dad made his hand into a claw and pulled it up in front of his crotch, then pointed a me.
"Oh," I said, blushing. "Right."
"I'll be right down, Mom," I called, rushing up the stairs. "I'm just going to get changed."
I put on my pajamas and a jock strap, just in case Dad wanted to check, then headed down to join Mom. I straddled her hips and snuggled up close, no longer shy about pressing my lump into her backside. Mom didn't break her stride but continued playing. I placed my hands on her hips. I wanted to slide between her legs but realized - I don't know why I hadn't thought about this when I first saw her in pajamas - that there was no skirt to hide under.
Oh well. I slid my hands under Mom's shirt and snuggled them underneath her breasts. There was nothing wrong about playing with these. Before long, I was squeezing and playing with Mom's nipples, flicking them about with my fingers, pulling and tugging. But now I had seen them and put my mouth on one and I wanted more. I wanted to suck them, and I whispered as much in Mom's ear.
"Shhhhh," Mom whispered, playing on.
"I want to do more," I complained. "Why didn't you wear a skirt?"
"To keep you from doing more," Mom whispered. Then she laughed. "Do you have your little chastity belt on?" she tittered.
"Very funny," I whispered.
"I'm sorry, honey. I couldn't resist teasing you."
I dropped my hands down to Mom's waist and began toying with her navel, circling my fingertip around and around, then slowly poking it in and out. The suggestion wasn't lost on Mom.
"You know what."
I kept playing with Mom's navel.
"Do you think Grandma let Dad touch her?"
Mom missed a beat.
"I'll bet she did. I bet Dad felt her up all the time."
Mom was stiff. I suspected I was onto something and I pursued it.
"Let's look up some old pictures. I bet she had nice ones. That's probably why he married you, because you have such nice tits."
Mom was so rigid I don't know how she managed to keep playing.
"I'll bet Grandma let Dad suck them whenever he wanted, whenever Grandpa wasn't around." I paused for effect, then said, "Or do you think she let him suck them even when Grandpa was in the house?"
"Stop talking such trash."
But Mom was breathing faster. I was getting to her.
"Yeah, I bet she did. I bet she even let Dad touch her, down there."
I trailed my fingertip down from Mom's navel to the elastic band of her pajama bottoms.
"I bet that's where she liked it best."
I slipped my finger, just the tip, under the elastic.
"Yeah," I whispered. "I bet she let Dad get behind her and slip his hand under her pants," I husked in Mom's ear.
Mom went even more rigid and I pushed my hand under the waistband of her pajamas, stretching my finger down until I contacted pubic hair.
"He touched her pussy," I whispered, swishing my fingertip across the top of Mom's bush, feeling her react to me now and not just my voice and the pictures I was planting in her head.
I rubbed all around Mom's clit and then inserted my fingertip inside the little hood covering it to trigger her clit. Mom expelled the air in her lungs in a long whoosh and her hips initiated a series of tiny humps. I pushed my other hand under her waistband, below my flicking finger, scr****g back and forth across her rubbery lips, opening them, then wormed my fingers inside.
She was hot and very wet, and she had stopped playing the piano.
"Play," I hissed, pushing my fingers in and out.
"Play," I repeated, jamming my fingers in and out, circling and flicking her clit. "Play," I whispered again.
Mom only grunted in reply. I turned to look in the living room, into the bookcase, looking for Dad's reflection, but the cabinet door was open and I couldn't see anything at all. Desperately, I rubbed my finger up and down in Mom's soaked pussy, then side to side and in and out again. I circled her clit faster, then put the pad of my finger right on it and started shaking. Within seconds, Mom's hand flailed about and she went rigid, mouth open, hips jerking, legs vibrating. Suddenly, she relaxed completely, slumping in my arms.
I pulled my hands out of Mom's pants. Just in time, because Dad sat up and came into the hallway between the two rooms.
"Tea?" he asked.
"Yes. Thanks, Dad."
He bustled off to the kitchen. A minute later I joined him, leaving Mom to recover from what I guessed was the best orgasm she'd had in a long, long time. It was just fingers, but her son had played the piano since he was little, under her tutelage. Dexterity was his second name.
"Did the trick, did it?" Dad asked, looking back when I entered the kitchen, nodding at my crotch.
I smiled and snapped my pajamas out, showing him the jockstrap.
"A hundred percent," I laughed. "Mom didn't feel a thing. But then, I kept reminding myself that she's my mom and that pretty much settled me down."
"Good, good. That's the way son."
Mom joined us not long after that and we sat and chatted, sipping our tea. Dad got up first, saying he was off to bed and Mom said she would be right behind him, she'd had enough practicing for one night.
She stared at me after Dad left, as if I was a stranger. If she was wanting an explanation about what had just happened, why I started whispering to her about Dad and Grandma, I had none. Clearly, it bothered her, no maybe intrigued was a better word, that her husband might have tried to feel up his mother, or even more. How far had she let him go? No, she wasn't intrigued, she was excited.
"Maybe we shouldn't have a recital," Mom said. "Maybe it isn't such a good idea."
"Maybe," I answered, getting up and walking around the table to stand in front of Mom.
"I think we should quit right now," Mom said.
I grabbed Mom's hands and pulled her to her feet, twisting her around to sit her on the corner of the table.
"Don't be silly, Mom. You know you want the recital."
"Yes," Mom acknowledged. "But it's too dangerous."
"And exciting," I said. "Hasn't it been exciting? Don't you feel more alive?"
"Yes," Mom reluctantly agreed. "But it could ruin our lives. It's too much to risk."
"Won't you miss it?" I asked.
"I was thinking more of the excitement. Like this," I said, plunging my cupped hand between her legs and gripping her pussy.
"Jon! Don't, stop it."
Mom tried to f***e my arm away but she couldn't and I palpitated her pussy, shaking my whole arm to add to the stimulation. Within a minute, Mom's resistance faded and she simply sat, letting me frig her through her pajamas. I stood her up but her legs were weak and she slumped to the kitchen floor. I followed her down, keeping my hand on her pussy.
She closed her eyes when I slipped my hand inside and inserted my fingers in her hole again. She didn't even notice, as she writhed around on the floor, that I managed to get her bottoms down to her knees. And then she got the shock of her life, and by the way she reacted, I think it may have been the first time she'd ever had such a treat. I pulled my fingers out of her and pushed my tongue inside.
She moaned aloud and began muttering 'Oh god' over and over as I lapped and licked, swirled and stabbed. She absolutely loved it when I pulled my tongue out, formed a tight little hook at the end and moved it up to flick her clit, rapidly at first, then slow, really slow, then fast and slow again. I kept it up until she exploded into a wild orgasm, her hands trying to plunge my head through her wildly thrusting hips.
When she was done, it was like she'd gone catatonic. She lay sprawled on the floor, arms and legs twisted about, head lying to the side on the floor, her mouth wide open in that silent scream I'd seen before.
My father, I was certain, didn't know how to fuck this woman. I was positive that was the first time she'd ever been eaten. I shuffled up to Mom's head, pushing my pajamas down. I had been ready to just go upstairs and jack off but that open, inviting mouth reminded me about my thoughts the night before. I needed to push Mom over the edge, to break her free of the constraints holding her in her strict, prudish life.
Lying on my side in front of Mom's head, I flipped the jockstrap down and freed my raging boner. Holding it with my right hand, I put my left behind Mom's head and pulled it onto my cock, quickly inserting a couple of inches before she could close her mouth. Mom's eyes flew open in shock as I began moving in her virgin mouth, perhaps the first cock it had ever tasted.
She struggled at first but she couldn't break my hold and then she just seemed to accept it, letting me push in an out, fucking her face, while she looked up at me. She never looked away. She watched me the whole time I fucked her mouth, right up to the second I unloaded on her tonsils, gagging and gurgling as she struggled to swallow my load. When I was done, I pulled my cock out until the tip was on her lips, moving it around until she began licking it, swirling her tongue all around the head to clean it off, letting me push it back into her mouth a few times to squeeze out a few remaining drops.
I pulled the jockstrap over me, got onto my knees and then stood up, pulling my pajamas up. Mom raised her hand and I pulled her up, stooping to grab her pajamas and pull them up over her hips before she could do it herself. Then I kissed her, catching her by surprise.
"Think about this tonight and let me know tomorrow if the recital is still on."
I turned and walked away.