Mom’s worry 9

See, I wrote after switching back to the text file. How do you expect me to stay away from her?

There are WOMEN your age.

But I love Jenna, I typed, my skin tingling and my cheeks warming. The only other woman I love is you.

I moved my fingers away from the tablet, placing them on the outside of my right thigh; only this time, I brushed my knuckles against Mom's skin. My eyes moved from the tablet to her profile, stopping to admire the soft slope of her rising and falling breasts and the hard nipples poking through their cotton, under-lit by the tablet's white glow. Upward, my gaze continued to her Viking-like features, taking in her lean jaw and full lips, her prominent cheeks, and the fay-like quality of her composition.

Mom stared down at the tablet, her lips slightly parted, and the urge to move forward and plant a kiss on them radiated through me with the strength of a gunshot. I looked away from Mom, over to Dad, and then back at the screen--my cock had thickened in that time, forcing a soft mmm reaction in my throat and a slight clenching of my eyes.

Mom hadn't answered. I looked at her again. Her head turned, angling to the left, her eyes latching onto my crotch and the growing tent in my lap. Mom's gaze sent a tingle through my cock, the head perking up as my shaft surged forward, pushing my knob against my shorts in a spear-like thrust. This time I groaned aloud.

Mom slapped my thigh.

I brushed my fingers against her bare leg before I typed, See what your plan is doing to me? I tapped the screen as if thinking, which I was, but I was only thinking about how long to wait before I started typing again. I have porn to jerk off to, but I don't want to come alone. You're not helping me unless you have a way to take care of me.

There was a moment of hesitation, and then Mom typed, Why isn't looking at me enough for you? Her eyes moved to my cock again. I swear I saw a tremor run through her as she took her next breath. I'm your mother.

I didn't hesitate. My fingers flashed across the tablet, typing, And that's why you're the only woman I can cheat on Jenna with.

Mom's eyes widened, then narrowed. Her next exhale took a long time to billow downward from her nostrils. The sound from the TV grew softer, taking on a distant vibration while my senses concentrated on my mother. Cheat. I had typed cheat. Mom's following inhale echoed in my ears as though it were one of my own breaths. She turned her head, looking at Dad, and my eyes followed her gaze. He lay deep within the couch, on his back, his head resting on a pillow pushed against the base of the armrest. He had the couch's blanket over his body, covering him from the chest down, and his hands rested on his stomach, over the blanket. Fuck, I wish the man would snore.

I looked back at Mom.

Frozen. She's frozen. I took a deep breath. My fingers curled and uncurled, inching toward the tablet's soft keyboard. This is her game. It stops when she says no... and means it. A chill ran through me. What had I meant by 'and means it'?

I pressed the back of my hand against my mother's thigh until I met resistance, then I slid it upward, turning my pinky to the right along my mother's skin. A shiver ran through Mom as I placed my hand on her thigh below her short-shorts. I squeezed her leg while reaching for the tablet's keyboard with my left hand.

Do you know what I love most about watching you?

My chest turned thick as I waited for Mom to reach for the keyboard. When she did, her fingers moved by the millimeter, their forward momentum almost nonexistent, but when their tips contacted the keypad, she typed in a rush, What?

I moved much quicker than my mother. Your pubic hair. I love the way your blonde curls stick up over the waistband of the little panties you wore for me today. I heard Mom's quick inhale. I didn't even know that Moms were allowed to own panties that small. I glanced at her, using only my eyes. I swear I saw her smile, so I swept my thumb across her thigh, opening and closing it as I typed. Jenna doesn't have pubic hair. She's smooth between her legs. Mom breathed in sharply again. I get extra hard whenever I see your thick, blonde hairs.

Mom said nothing.

Do you dress like that for Dad?

Mom typed, You shouldn't talk like that to me, taking her time and hitting backspace more than once.

Why not? I opened all of my fingers across her thigh. Jenna lets me talk to her that way. She likes it. I slid my hand across her thigh, following the inward curve and getting my middle, ring, and pink fingers between her legs before she closed them tight, trapping my three digits between her warm limbs. I can show you the videos.

Mom looked at me, then typed, You have videos?

Not new ones. I squeezed her thigh again. Not since you started this.

Her fingers moved like a whirlwind over the screen. You have to delete them. She looked at me again. And so does she.

Why?

Don't be stupid.

As slowly as I could, as my heartbeat rose and my cock pulsed with the idea of what I was about to tell my mother, I typed, I'll get rid of them if you let me touch you. I tapped the screen several times before I continued. Right now.

Mom stared at the screen. I stared at her. My heart swelled until my chest could no longer contain its size. Beneath my shorts, my balls tightened, and my cock tried to harden further, intent on stiffening until it snapped in two. As I was getting ready to type again, Mom answered me.

Your father is right next to us.

I breathed a sigh of relief so loud that Mom turned her head toward me. I stayed focused on the screen as I wrote, He's either asleep or too sleepy to notice.

No.

You let me do more this afternoon.

I squeezed my mother's thigh and forced my forefinger between her legs, joining my other fingers and getting a better grip on her limb.

Can you wait until tomorrow? Mom typed.

I swept my thumb across the top of my mother's thigh as I applied pressure to her legs, seeking deeper access to her body. Mom didn't budge. She squeezed her thighs together harder, and the heat from between them warmed my hand.

Stop, Mom typed.

If I do, can we go to my room?

No.

Fine, I typed. But this is what I have waiting for me next door.

I moved my fingers across my screen, clicking buttons and swiping folders until I pulled up a picture of Jenna, and she hadn't dressed as an innocent eighteen-year-old girl would have. In the picture, she was wearing her friend's black lingerie: stockings, garters, see-through panties, and an open-bust shelf bra. Her black, satin-gloved hands with white lace at the cuffs covered her nipples but left a good amount of her skin bare.

If not you, then Jenna, I wrote, my breathing deepening.

Mom stared at the picture. She stared and stared, then she closed the window and shook her head. I stood, slipping my hand from her between her legs. Dampness coated my skin, more so on the side that had been deepest between my mother's legs. My cock stood straight out from my shorts. I looked to Dad, and from my higher angle, I could see that he had his eyelids closed. Opportunity missed. Before I could step away, Mom tugged on the leg of my shorts. She tugged hard, and after a second tug, I sat down next to her. Mom sighed, and she spread her legs open... for me.

As I sat, Mom turned my tablet back on. This time she wrote, Do not masturbate in front of me.

Under my shorts? I asked.

Mom tilted her head to the right, her eyes rolling in the same direction. I palmed my knob with my left hand, pushing down on my head. A buzzing, pleasure-filled cloud swirled around my glans before shooting straight down my shaft, forcing my ass to tighten and my hips to rise. Mom turned the tablet off and placed it on the end table next to her. She faced forward, her eyes on the TV, then looking at Dad, who seemed to be sleeping, and then back at the TV, waiting for me to do to her whatever I dared to do to her.

We didn't set any other boundaries, I thought. What was Mom going to do if I went too far? Yell for Dad? Run upstairs, where we could be alone? Holy shit, my thoughts were getting dark.

The moment was mine, and yet, my hand moved slowly toward her thigh. I had freedom now, and I moved with a slow, persistent pressure as if giving my mother a chance to back out. Or maybe I wanted to savor this. Maybe I was savoring this and giving my mother a chance to back out. I didn't know, but now that Mom had called my bluff, an entirely new expectation had fallen upon me. I had to perform. I had only ever touched Jenna. There had been plenty of finger-banging and pussy-eating between us, but what did my inexperience really know about Jenna's body or how to please a woman?

A real woman.

My mom?

My heartbeat thickened in my chest. Dampness chilled my palm as my pulse beat against the center of my hand. I had to perform. I had to. Performing was the only way that I was going to make my mother want my touch, instead of having to endure my touch.

I pressed my palm against my mother's thigh. Her skin seared me. My fingers pointed inward, wrapping around her limb to caress the inner meat between her legs. She had parted her thighs, and I had a narrowing V-shaped window running toward the beautiful, sun-kissed cunny that marked the prettiest portion of a woman's body.

I squeezed her thigh. Mom said nothing. I squeezed her thigh again, pulsing my digits against her limb, my rhythm slow and tender. My left palm rolled over my knob, my hips humping upward as pleasure shot through me. Would Mom touch me if I asked?

Don't push it, I thought. We've rushed this enough. Tonight is about showing her what we can do.

I slid my hand toward my mother's knee. She looked at Dad as I caressed her smooth skin. I stroked my cock faster through my shorts, keeping my fingers around the neck of my shaft and rowing my thumb over the head. Several trembling breaths left my lungs, and Mom angled her head in my direction enough that she had to be able to see me stroking my stiffy.

This was madness.

I slid my hand down her thigh, pushing inward so that my fingertips brushed the cushion between her legs, my palm resting against her skin. Down I went. Mom shivered once I passed the middle of her thigh. A warm cloud of mist seemed to greet the side of my hand closest to her muff, dampening my flesh and urging my little finger to stretch outward as far as possible, stopping less than an inch from her satin-covered crotch.

A blurred, wobbling lightness hammered the inside of my skull. I moved back up Mom's thighs, and she breathed easier. I moved back down, and her next inhale turned heavy. I glanced at the front of her shirt, where her rock-hard nipples poked at the fabric, threatening to rip through the threads. They stuck outward, thick and hard, like Jennifer Anniston's nipples on nearly every episode of Friends.

I moved lower than before, forcing Mom to spread her legs further apart as my knuckles grazed the inner meat of her right thigh. She wiggled her butt, but she had nowhere to run. My pinky extended again, riding her damp flesh and teasing the leghole of her boyshorts. Her left hand twitched, so I pulled my hand up her leg and caressed the middle of her thigh, squeezing and feeling the smooth firmness of my mother's skin.

I continued stroking my cock and working the precum from my balls. Each spurt of crystal-clear jizz reminded my cock that there was soft treasure between my mother's thighs. I had come from those folds, saying hello to the world by spreading her open, and now I wanted to go back and spread her open again, but instead of emptying her pink channel of life, I wanted to fill it with my own once more.

My balls shivered, and I almost came to my sick, perverse, and cock-hardening desires. I was going to have my mother one day; before the end of this, and maybe, one day, Jenna and her both.

At the same time, my cock said as a jolt of pleasure pushed a moan from my lips.

"Shhhhh," Mom hissed, moving her right arm from the armrest and slapping my hand between her legs.

Something about that movement reminded me of the girls in porn, spanking their hairless beavers before their costars punched their cocks into their pussies. I had to bite back another moan, but as I did, I opened my little finger as far as I could and entered the leghole of Mom's shorts, touching the crease where her outer pussy lip met the inside of her thigh.

Mom answered my touch with a sharp inhale of breath. She looked down. The hand that had slapped mine now rested on my forearm. She tried to push me back up her thigh, but I held firm, staring down between her legs and shaking my head.

Mom pushed again on my arm.

I shook my head harder.

Mom's thighs started to close. I didn't mind, she'd only trap me between them, but as her legs clamped down on my hand, I brushed my little finger against the side of my mother's warm pussy bulge. A silk-like mesh greeted my digit, but my fingertip caught the leg band of her panties and pushed under the nylon, touching skin so hot that I was surprised my finger didn't melt.

She's so fucking wet, I thought as my little finger pushed the moisture covering her mound across her skin, following the edge of her panty line.

Mom pushed harder on my wrist. I turned my head toward Dad with a sharp twist of my chin. Mom's hand froze as she looked at Dad. I pushed hard between her thighs, my ring finger colliding with the pillow-like softness at the center of her muff and my little finger slipping into the crux of her thigh.

Dad didn't move, continuing to breathe with the mellow tempo of a man who was sound asleep. I stroked my cock harder. Could I get away with this while he was awake? He couldn't see us from where he was. My heartbeat hammered against the inside my chest, and my feet tingled as I thought of my father watching TV while I felt up his wife on the couch behind him.

Mom pushed on my wrist again. I held myself firm, fighting her resistance and sinking the side of my ring finger into her pussy's tender folds. Mom arched her back, pushing her titties and thick nipples outward, and I wiggled my little finger, slipping two knuckles beneath her panties. She uttered a soft whimper as my digit slid against her mound. Her pubic hairs feathered my skin, the strands softer and fuller than the finest threads of silk.

"Mark," Mom whispered.

I didn't answer her. Instead, I sawed my hand through my mom's thighs, up and down, doing my best to get my finger sandwiched between her folds while hoping that I'd rub her clit with my motions. It's not like I hadn't touched a pussy before. I had Jenna, and we had practiced often, and as Mom continued the pressure against my wrist with her hand, she added a new pressure, on purpose or by accident, I didn't know, but I felt the thrust of her hips against me as if trying to dislodge my fingers.

"Stop," Mom whispered.

"No," I whispered back, my voice lower and more forceful than hers.

"Please?"

I pushed harder against her pussy as I ran my little finger across her damp pubic hairs.

"I could always go to Jenna," I said.

Mom made a frustrated sound. "Your father could wake up."

"He's not going to." Mom hadn't sounded like she believed that either. "He took his pill."

Mom pushed harder against the side of my hand. She dug her heels into the base of the couch and pushed her hips hard against me. I was on an upward slide, and as our movements collided, Mom released a ragged breath that sounded like a muted whimper. I pushed down with unstoppable determination, trying to use the same path as before, and Mom's next breath trembled. I did it again, and Mom closed her eyes and turned her face sharply to the right, her nostrils flaring, their sound reaching my ears.

Again I pushed my hand through her thighs, rubbing her pussy hard. I swore I felt the dampness of her muff soaking her satin boyshorts. My pinky finger, still against her mound, was as slippery as my fingers got whenever I dipped them into Jenna's pink well, but not as sticky--yet.

"Hurry up and come," Mom mumbled through her clenched teeth, her voice breaking. "Finish this."

I squeezed my knob. I wanted to come--god, how I wanted to come--but how much better would the next time be if I made my mother come with me? I wanted--no--I needed her teasing to be something she wanted to do, not something she felt that she had to do.

Uttering a moan, I pulled my hand from between Mom's leg, and for the briefest of moments, I had to pull against her resistance as she pressed her pussy against my hand one more time. Mom let go of me, her fingers springing open and her legs spreading wide as if electrified. Her eyes opened as she turned her head toward me. I slid away from her a little, just a little, not much, and I bent forward, sliding my right arm under her knees, lifting, and swinging her legs toward me. Mom spun on her butt as I brought her knees up and sat her feet next to me on the couch. Her toes touched my thigh as she leaned against the couch's armrest. I pulled my arm from beneath her knees and pushed my hands between her shins, forcing her left leg against the back of the couch and her right toward the cushion's edge.

"What are you doing?" Mom hissed at me as the light bathed her in shades of silver and blue.

"Touching you," I whispered, looking into her eyes as I placed my palm on the inner meat of her right leg.

Mom swallowed as I pushed my hand down her thigh. The loose leghole of her shorts lay in a wave, the peak giving my fingers access into her shorts. I pushed inside. Mom inhaled deeply as my fingers made contact with the crux of her thigh and swept inward, following the slope of her skin until I had fully cupped the wet heat between her legs. Mom's breath caught, and she turned her wide eyes to the right, staring at the TV as her next breath trembled and a tremor ran through her body.

I held my mother's creamy, hot pussy in my palm for several moments. The warmth between her legs sent squiggly rays of pleasure through my arm. My knob swelled, and a soft buzzing massaged my balls, forcing my sack to constrict and my asshole to clench.

"Mark," Mom said in a low, shaky voice.

I squeezed her pussy, holding her wetness in the palm of my hand.

Mom sighed, pinching her eyes shut as a frustrated, puppy-like whine left her lungs.

My father lay still--still sleeping, still dreaming--unaware of what I was doing to my mother or the new, floral pussy scent that pollinated the room.

I released my mother's snatch. Her breasts rose and fell in rapid motions, and when I squeezed her pussy meat again, they swelled upward as she sucked in her breath. Her silky panties lay matted to my palm, soaked through and sticky to the touch. The triangle protecting her pussy folds was thin and narrow, allowing my fingers to press against the exposed flesh of her outer lips. My middle finger was long enough to rest against her slit and then some, the tip settling against the dental floss covering her asshole. Mom jumped when I touched her back there, and she jumped again, pushing her pussy against my hand when I applied the slightest bit of pressure against the oven-hot crinkle of her rosebud.

"You," Mom said, pausing as I squeezed her pussy again, "have to stop."

"I can't," I said, speaking as low as she had. "I need this. I'm eighteen. I'm horny, and you've made my dick so fucking hard."