Part 9


I suffered through the rest of the week. We had piano practice every night but each time Mom wore a crisp white blouse, with a bra, and a tight black skirt. Her outfit prevented any underneath play and when I tried to hold her tits, she elbowed my hands out of the way. Mom insisted I play, but only the piano.

After each session, Mom walked slowly into the living room to receive Dad's accolades. The light shimmered off the sheer hose, her high heels tensioning her calf muscles as she moved, turning nice legs into stunning ones. Mom leaned forward in an exaggerated fashion that emphasized the jut of her behind for a prolonged moment, mercilessly recalling my memory of the same pose she had struck when my jiz filled her panties. She always turned to smile sweetly at me when she straightened up. Each night, I went to bed with an unfulfilled, steel hard boner. No matter how hard I spanked the monkey in bed as I pictured Mom in my mind's eye, it was a far cry from sliding it into her throat.

My father hung around the house all day Saturday and that night I suffered through an especially long practice, a full session in which we played each of three pieces, only one of which we would actually play at the recital.

The next day, we went to church. I hadn't been able to devise a plan to get Mom into the shop to see the pictures, or to get them out and lose Dad long enough to show them to Mom. It had only been five days and I was like a junkie without a hit, nervous, fidgety, and desperate.

Mom, however, was the picture of her old cheery self Sunday morning. She wandered out of her bedroom to the main bathroom to get things she had 'forgotten' to put back into her ensuite, clad only in the slip she would wear under her dress. Dad admonished her but she shushed him.

"Jon's in his room getting dressed. Anyway, we're all f****y. Don't be so silly."

To see yet be unable to taste. How cruel. Mom was ruthless in the display of her naked charms under the slip as she padded barefoot back and forth three times, slowing down as soon as she passed through her bedroom door and turned into the hallway where her audience of one waited. She pretended everything was normal though it wasn't every day that your mother dressed so, stopping to scratch an itch, high on the inside of her thigh.

I had to get those pictures. I would call in sick on Monday. I couldn't take another day.

The sermon was interminably long but finally, we were outside the church, both Dad and Mom chatting to the rest of the flock. I was eager to leave, though why, I have no idea. Nothing would happen until tomorrow morning, after Dad left and I was alone with my mother and my feigned illness. I walked to the car by myself and waited until Dad arrived with the keys.

Fifteen minutes later, I saw Mom walking toward me, managing to look sexy even in her church clothes. I suppose it helped that I had seen her this morning dressed only in the slip she wore underneath but I think I would have felt that way looking at her anyway. She's really is beautiful, I thought, the perfect balance of nature and nurture.

Wearing a pleased smile, Mom walked directly to the passenger side of the car where I was leaning against the back door and held her arm straight out from her shoulder, hand hanging limply down, the keys dangling from her fingers, a teasing smile on her face.

"Would you be so kind as to take me home, young sir?" Mom's laugh tinkled in my confused brain.

I held out my hand and the keys dropped into my palm.

"Isn't Dad ...,"

"He's going to stay and help out with some things around the church. One of the other men will give him a ride home," Mom explained, then added, "later this afternoon."

I ran to the front of the car but Mom's 'ahem' pulled me up short and I ran back to unlock the door and hold it open for her, remembering not to slam it. Running around again, I quickly started the car, slipped it into drive, and drove out of the parking lot. Mom only had to caution me once to slow down on the way home.

Once there, I ran through the house and opened the back door, waiting impatiently while Mom put her purse away, kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen.

"Come on, Mom. Let's go look."

Mom looked at me, a quizzical expression on her face. I knew she was playing a game, but I went along, knowing it was the only way to pass Go.

"The pictures, Mom. You remember?"

"Oh yes. The pictures. Let's have some lunch first."

"Lunch? Dad could be home by the time we finish. We can eat after."

"You can if you want, but I'm hungry."

Maddeningly, Mom began making some lunch. Frustrated, I ran out the shop and retrieved Dad's box, walking hurriedly back to the house as I tried to open it without success on the way. I burst through the back door and set the box on the counter where I managed to open it without problems, lifting the lid and stepping back so Mom could see the three bundles of photos.

Mom was leaning back against the counter, one knee cocked out in front of the other, holding a container of yogurt, languidly dipping and filling a small spoon to deliver the milky contents to her mouth. Her tongue flicked out to lick the bottom of the spoon each time, pulling it into her mouth in the same way she'd eaten the pie.

I held my hand out, open palm facing out, indicating the open box.

"Yes, I see," Mom casually commented, then slipped another spoonful into her sexy mouth.

I removed the first bundle and opened it, placing the first picture on the counter. Mom turned toward it, leaning her left hip against the counter, still sliding yogurt into her mouth. Slowly, I put the pictures down, one by one, waiting for her to nod before proceeding to the next. Mom looked long and hard at the last picture.

"Yes, I've seen these before," she finally spoke. "Do you think I'd look good in that color of blue?" she asked, leaving the spoon in her mouth, pointing to the lacy panties covering Grandma's pussy.

"Absolutely, Mom. You'd look awesome in any color under the rainbow."

"I'm not so sure," Mom mused after removing the spoon from her mouth, digging more yogurt onto the spoon but concentrating on Grandma's parted legs.

"We could try some," I suggested hopefully.

"Yes, that might be the way to go," Mom said, her tone still thoughtful.

Suddenly, she turned her back to the counter again, her voice picking up in speed and volume.

"Well, I didn't see a trellis," she stated emphatically.

I scrambled to gather the photos together, quickly reversing their order before binding them in the elastic again. I fished out the second bundle. Mom turned to look, leaning her hip against the counter as I stepped through the pictures, one by one.

When she saw Grandma lying on her back, twisting her legs around, even opening them, Mom turned to face the counter directly. The yogurt container was placed on the counter. A good sign, I thought. A good sign.

The best indicator was the thickening of Mom's voice right after a sudden intake of breath when I dealt the last picture. Mom stared at her mother-in-law, head flat on the grass, her bottom held high, legs closed, which only emphasized the mysterious triangle she dangled in front of her boy, its dampness clearly evident.

"You can see the trellis, can't you?" I asked, seeking confirmation that I had fulfilled my end of the bargain.

"Not so fast, sonny. Show me the rest," Mom demanded.

"Mom, maybe that's not such a good idea. Dad might be home any minute now."

"Show me," her hoarse voice cut me off.

I gathered the pictures together and secured the second bundle. I was in no hurry. It was Mom who showed impatience now, her hips tapping lightly against the counter as she pushed herself away an inch or so and then pulled herself back. I unwrapped the third bundle but hesitated to place the first picture on the counter.

Mom reached behind her neck and deftly unhooked the tiny clasp at the top of the zipper at the back of her dress. A second later the sound of the zipper descending her back was the only sound in the kitchen, except for the loud ticking of the big clock.

I put the first picture down on the counter.

Mom looked at the photo, then picked it up to hold it closer. I stepped behind her so I could both look over her shoulder and inside her dress. Unfortunately, the slip covered Mom's skin. Since she had only unzipped the dress to her shoulder blades, I pulled the zipper the rest of the way down her back, gently, so I didn't distract her attention from the picture. I loved the feel of the delicate zipper as it dipped into the small of Mom's back and then swelled out onto her buttocks. I leaned close to Mom and looked over her shoulder.

It was a picture of Grandma, about Mom's age of course, standing in front of a make-up dresser with a large round mirror. Her dress was unzipped and she was looking into the mirror at the person taking the picture whose youthful body could be seen in the reflection but the head was cut off by the curve of the mirror. The skin on Grandma's back was broken by the backstrap of a bra. Mom put the picture down and picked up the next one.

The dress had been pushed off Grandma's shoulders. It was caught in the elbow of her left arm but the right had already been pulled out of the sleeve showing Grandma's bare waist. The bra had been unsnapped so just a hint of the side of her right breast was also visible but the front couldn't be seen in the mirror. I pushed the dress off Mom's shoulders and she moved on to the next picture.

The dress was off both shoulders now and Grandma was bare down to her waist, the bra gone. Her breasts could be clearly seen in the mirror. Pert and excited, they would have been a marvelous set of tits for a woman ten years younger than Grandma must have been at that age. They looked like a matched set for Mom's, which she might have realized, going by the sharp intake of breath as soon as she saw the picture.

I pulled the straps for Mom's slip off her shoulders and then pushed both the slip and dress off her arms as Mom switched the picture to her other hand to accommodate me. Reaching under her arms, I unsnapped Mom's bra and peeled it off, again with her help. Mom continued to stare at the picture while I undressed her but when I removed the bra, her eyes flicked back and forth several times from the picture to her own breasts in the mirror. Maybe she could see some differences, but I couldn't.

I didn't see the next picture at first because as soon as Mom reached for it, I pushed her dress and slip over her hips and knelt to pull them down to her feet. Mom was wearing white stockings that ended halfway up her thigh with ribbon-like, elastic straps joining them to a lacy band circling her waist above a pair of silky white panties. I stood, looking down at Mom's bum, into her crack which was visible under the waistband stretching across her cheeks. Her rapid breathing pulled my eyes away and I looked over her shoulder, first at her bare tits hanging out in mid air capped by her long thick nipples, then at the picture.

Grandma had been naked under the dress. The photographer had stepped closer behind her, reaching around to cup a breast in one hand, holding the camera above her shoulder to take a picture of her completely bare front, a nicely trimmed bush prominent in the photo. Grandma was looking in the mirror at the tit being lifted from her chest. I couldn't tell where Mom was looking but my attention was immediately garnered by Grandma's bush and the gently sloping belly above it. The photographer's face was hidden by the camera.

I reached down to release each leg strap one by one and then knelt behind Mom to pull the waist apparatus over her hips and down her legs. Standing, I looked over Mom's shoulder again. She was still looking at the picture, comparing it to what she saw in the mirror. So was I. To help her comparison, I again knelt behind her and pulled her panties down her shapely legs. Mom lifted each foot to let me remove them completely. I stood up to look over her shoulder again.

Other than being naked, Mom looked remarkably similar to the photo. Her bush was slightly more hairy or, more accurately, not so recently trimmed. Truth be known, I thought Mom looked sexier, especially wearing the white stockings that emphasized her pelvic area more so than Grandma's stark nakedness. I pressed my bulge into Mom's bare ass.

Mom held this picture for long time. I think she was feeling a growing affinity with Grandma, understanding her better, perhaps no longer jealous of her love for her son or his for her. I stepped back and quietly removed my shirt and pants. I pressed forward, pushing my shorts ahead carefully, not wanting to disturb her but wanting to show her that she had her own secret admirer. I was surprised when Mom pushed her ass back to greet me.

"Ohhh, my," Mom sucked in her breath sharply.

She had picked up the next picture. Grandma's back was to the mirror and she was sitting down. In front of her, or behind from the picture's perspective since it was taken off the reflection, stood a naked young man, still headless. But the man's hard cock was in plain sight to Grandma's left and I'm sure that's what caused Mom's gasp because she brought the picture very close and peered at it. To me, a cock was a cock and not all that interesting. It didn't look special in any way, but I'm positive that Mom recognized it as my father's.

It was time to step over the edge. I stepped back and quickly doffed my shorts. I returned immediately but was careful to push my erection down, so that it fit it into Mom's crack and kept itself there by its own springy power. Mom kept staring at the picture. I placed my hands on her waist and began swaying against her ass, nudging my cock further into her ass.

Mom gasped again when she picked up the next picture. Though the young man's cock could no longer be seen, it was clearly right in front of Grandma's face, if not already in it. My back and forth motions grew firmer. To compensate, I put my hands on Mom's waist to keep her ass from getting away.

The next picture confirmed everything, as I knew it would. Taken from above, Dad's cock was shown just entering, or possibly pulling out, of Grandma's pouting lips. Several more pictures followed, each showing Dad's cock and Grandma's head from above. In the last photo, Dad's hand was holding Grandma's hair and his cock was completely inside her mouth. I grasped Mom's tits and tried to angle my cock up into Mom's slit and this caused her to drop the picture. She whirled around to face me.

"You can't do that, Jon. I don't care what your father did with Grandma."

I dipped my knees and tired to get my cock into Mom's pussy despite her objection.

"No, Jon. You can't," Mom cried.

I ignored her, slipping my hands down to her waist, trying to get my cock into her, saying silly things, humping away at her.

"I want to be inside you. I want to fill you."

Mom started to kneel. I held her up.

"No. Not that. I want to be in you."

"No. I can't. I just can't."

"Please, Mom. Let me."


Suddenly, Mom clasped me tightly to her, my upright cock pinched against her soft belly.

She whispered harshly, excitedly, into my ear, "Do you want to lie on me? I'll let you on top and you can rub yourself on me. Would you like that?"

Desperate for any action, I nodded, "Yeah, yeah."

Mom turned and walked to the bed. I caught up to her as she leaned one knee on the edge, poking my hardon between her legs.

"Hurry," I gasped.

Mom quickly flipped over onto her back but she kept her legs closed. I flopped on top and my hips started churning right away, scr****g my cock on her belly, my balls nestling in her treasured triangle.

"Don't try to put it in," Mom warned. "If you do I'll never let you play again."

"I promise," I gasped.

I knew she meant what she said. Her belly and tits felt so wonderful underneath me I barely cared but in my mind I knew I just had to fuck her. I had to find a way get her to let me have her. I couldn't f***e her because there was just no way I could fuck this woman only once. I had to have her forever.

Mom ran her hands up and down my back and then grabbed my ass as I rubbed her more and more frantically, my chest rasping over her nipples and my cock scr****g along her pouting belly, dipping into her navel and then beyond to the bottom of her tits. It didn't take long. I started spurting in no more than two minutes, releasing my sticky load all over Mom's belly and tits, crawling up to lodge my cock between them, squeezing out the last few drops on her upper chest where they slowly dribbled into the hollow of her neck. I collapsed, hunched over Mom, kissing her hair, her nose, her cheeks, everywhere.

"Ok, ok," Mom laughed. "That's enough."

I stopped, but moved my hips forward, trying to push my softening cock into Mom's mouth.

She blocked me at first, then said, "Ok, since you kept your promise."

Mom grabbed me gently by the balls and pulled me forward, her other hand guiding my softening cock into her warm mouth. As soon as her lips closed over me I began to harden. Half a dozen licks and swirls and I was fully hard, ready to go again.

"Oh, Jesus," Mom muttered, pushing me away. "What have I started."

I pushed back, shoving my cock back in her mouth.

"Mmmmphhhh," Mom mumbled, pushing me away again. "Be quick, your father could be home anytime."

I hovered over Mom's head, pumping her face. I didn't try to get in too deep because I thought I couldn't unless she was lying on her back the other way. I was so naive back then. But the squishy, sloppy sound soon materialized and helped speed me on my way. A few minutes later I was squirting in her mouth, Mom loudly slurping me up.

"Ok, get me the last pictures," Mom said when I was done.

I brought them back and Mom quickly shuffled through them, pausing longer for some. I knew by the sequence those were the ones where Grandma was lying on her tummy dressed only in the briefest of panties, lifting her ass up toward Dad, legs sometimes closed, sometimes wide open. The last picture was different, and Mom stared at it for a long time.

Grandma was naked in that one, on her tummy with her ass lifted in the air, legs only slightly parted but her pussy was in full view, clearly depicted, with milky white fluid oozing out of it.

"What the ..." Mom was shocked. She looked in my eyes.

"No," she cried, recognizing the need, the glint of pure want in my eyes. "No way!"

I searched deep for a flicker, a hesitation, some hint of uncertainty, but I didn't see any. Still, I wasn't going to give up and I could see in Mom's eyes that she knew it. I had the feeling she was flattered by my perseverance.

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Categories: MatureTaboo
Posted by mbigseven
3 years ago    Views: 1,203
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