Chapter 2

Mom worked the next day and I wasn’t able to be alone with her until Dad went to wash his hands before supper. As soon as he left, Mom accosted me.

“That was a stupid thing you did last night with your father right there,” she said, eyes flashing her anger. “I know your sister’s been showing off her breasts and you want more, to touch them, but I won’t have it, any of it!” She paused to take a dep breath, then continued in a softer tone, I’ll let you touch mine instead, but don’t you ever do anything stupid like that in front of your father again, understand?”

“Yes, Mom. I won’t,” I responded immediately, suitably chastised.

She may have been angry but I knew that she had been excited last night. I knew she wanted me to kiss her even though she acted like she didn’t want me to. Maybe, if Dad hadn’t been there, she would have let me go further but I knew if Dad hadn’t been there to mute her reaction, I never would have got as far as I did in the first place.

It was a different supper that night. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Mom. She looked sexy even in her conservative work suit. Mom knew I was looking and that I was looking at her not as a mother but as a woman. She also knew I was looking at her breasts, imagining them without the cover of clothes, imagining myself touching them, like I had last night. Did she know I wanted more than that, that I dreamed of fucking her?

That night, I cleaned up after dinner myself. I wouldn’t let Mom in the kitchen. When I was finished I went upstairs and returned much later, after relieving myself in more ways than one in the toilet bowl. My late return was according to the plan I’d developed that afternoon, to arrive and let the games begin after Dad had rested for awhile, in the hopes that he would fall asleep again.

Mom was still wearing her business suit. I was disappointed, hoping that after her words with me before supper that she would change into something more accessible. I guess she had meant what she said about not doing anything in front of Dad. I was pissed off.

I sat down near Mom and picked up a magazine, supposedly ignoring her. Dad was reading but I could see he was already beginning to nod off. My resistance waned and I slid over closer to Mom. She smiled.

“Where’s your pencil? You can’t help me if you don’t have a pencil.”

Her smile made me suspicious. Had she removed my pencil stash earlier in the day? I reached into the pocket of my housecoat and dragged out the only one there. It wasn’t one of the ones I’d put in my stash. It was an unsharpened carpenter’s pencil, almost a quarter of an inch thick and half an inch wide. What had happened to the handful I’d put in there yesterday?

“You can’t use that on my crosswords,” Mom laughed.

She thought she had me and maybe she had. I let the pencil tap against the side of her suit jacket. This wasn’t going to be any fun.

“Aren’t you hot in that jacket?” I asked in a thinly veiled suggestion to make her breasts more available.

“No,” Mom’s smile briefly turned up in greater amusement but then returned to its original, nearly straight line.

I let the pencil fall away, resting it on her leg, and watched Mom fill in the crossword. She worked steadily, passing over clues that she couldn’t do immediately but returning to them after a few more words had been completed. I tapped her skirt absently.

“Do you have to do that?” Mom asked.

“What? This?” I tapped her leg harder.

“Yes, that,” Mom responded, annoyed.

“Yes,” I retorted.

Mom quietly harrumphed. I looked at Dad and saw that his head was hanging over and he had slumped back in his chair. I moved the pencil across Mom’s skirt, tapping as I went. It made a more hollow drumming sound as I moved onto the material stretched over the gap between her thighs, then softened to a duller thud when I reached the right leg. I tapped my way back again and noticed with perverse pleasure the tightening of Mom’s jaw.

The tapping slowed as a thought slowly formed in my mind. Tap, tap, tap, tap ... tap ... tap ... tap ... tap.

Mom was about to speak, presumably to tell me that I was being extremely annoying when I suddenly stopped. Mom smiled and nodded her satisfaction. A few seconds later, I slid the pencil forward onto her bare leg and pushed it slowly along the top of her thigh to her knee, transferred to the other leg and dragged the eraser back along that thigh. Mom sighed, but I could tell she would rather put up with this new nuisance than the annoying drumming on her skirt.

Mom continued to fill in the crossword in grim silence, Dad resumed breathing steadily, and I traced the length of Mom’s thighs, up one leg and back the other, sometimes switching direction on each leg. Though it was hardly noticeable, I let the pencil’s path fall gradually toward the center of Mom’s legs so that I was pushing and dragging the eraser along her inner thighs. Mom seemed ok with this which may be why I became bored with it. I decided to push the envelope a little more.

For the hundredth time I dragged the pencil back to the hem of Mom’s skirt but this time I ‘accidentally’ dropped it between her legs. The eraser end fell to the couch between the more open end of Mom’s legs near her knees but the other, as yet unsharpened tip lodged between the meaty part of Mom’s thighs, leaving the pencil on an upward angle of about thirty degrees or so. I rooted around between Mom’s legs fumbling the pencil as I tried to pick it up. With each ‘fumble’, Mom’s legs gave way a little as my hand twisted about. I finally managed to regain my grip on the pencil but at the eraser end near Mom’s knees.

The pencil resumed its exploration but it now ventured under Mom’s skirt, sliding up the inside of her legs until it jammed between the fleshy part of her upper thighs. Mom was momentarily startled and so, in fact, was I, by the sheer brazenness of my act. I wasn’t sure how this would go over or what to do now that the pencil was stuck in the thickness of Mom’s inner thighs.

Mom glanced at Dad. I did too. He wasn’t snoring but his he was breathing more heavily and his eyes were still closed. Nevertheless, I was afraid because he could open his eyes at any moment and start reading again. Surprisingly, Mom looked back at her puzzle as if nothing was amiss. I stared at the book and her motionless hands, at a loss of what to do next, my courage failing me.

Dad snorted and his eyes opened. He shook his head and began to read as if he had never been dozing. Mom lifted the crossword book and set it down on her legs in front of my hand, the one holding the pencil. I took this as a sign and pulled the pencil back, away from Mom’s knees. It wiggled it between her legs but she trapped it before it got very far and cast a wary eye at Dad. I remembered Mom’s warning not to do anything stupid again in front of Dad but kept wiggling the pencil anyway, just to be a nuisance if nothing else; I don’t know why. Mom casually filled in another word, ignoring me, as if she was above my annoying behavior.

I felt I had won something and now wiggled the pencil with a vengeance, twisting it this way and that. The unsharpened end was not as soft as the eraser end and Mom’s legs momentarily gave way with each new foray. I found that if I held the pencil flat, Mom’s legs would yield more to its width and that quickly snapping it vertical to make it thinner would allow it to slide even further between her thighs. After only a dozen such advances the pencil was quite far under Mom’s skirt and I had dragged the hem back quite a ways to let my hand keep up with the pencil’s advance. It suddenly struck me that the pencil must be almost touching Mom’s panties which triggered another realization. Mom’s legs hadn’t been squeezing very tightly to impede the pencil’s progress. I stilled my hand and, in reaction, Mom’s legs tensed around the pencil, but then slowly relaxed when it didn’t move.

Dad made a sound and both our heads snapped up to look at him.

It was a snore. His head leaned to one side, our side. If he opened his eyes now, he would be looking directly at us.

Together, we watched Dad for at least a minute. We were absolutely still. Then, I moved the pencil the tiniest bit. My breath caught when I realized that Mom’s legs didn’t try to stop it, not even a single clench. I pushed it a little more and still encountered no resistance. A little more. I looked down at Mom’s skirt to see it bunching up behind my hand as I dragged the pencil even further back. Resistance completely disappeared and I realized the pencil must have reached the open triangle at the crux of Mom’s thighs, directly in front of her panties. I twisted the pencil so the flat part would face down and pushed. It collided with Mom’s panties in a silent thud that reverberated up my arm.

I turned to look at Mom. She was staring at Dad, her mouth open with a strange, strained look on her face. I pushed the pencil back and forth, skidding its flat side over the gusset of Mom’s panties, trying to exert a firm pressure. Mom’s mouth opened more but though her expression intensified, no sound spilled forth.

Back and forth, back and forth, I rubbed that heavy carpenter’s pencil. Mom seemed to be paralyzed, incapable of motion and quite unable to stop me. I could even feel her pushing against the pencil now as I scraped it across her panties. Oh yeah, there was no doubt, she was horny, real horny. I wanted to turn to her, to shove her skirt up and get my fingers inside her panties and into her cunt but I knew I couldn’t. If Dad woke up, everything would be ruined. Right now, he might be taken aback by Mom’s strange expression, but the crossword book still blocked his view of my hand and the pencil, and my posture sitting beside Mom made it look like I was simply helping her with the crossword puzzle. That would all be changed if I turned toward Mom so no matter how much she looked like she would let me, I couldn’t do it.

I stopped moving the pencil and Mom’s hand dropped onto mine, as if to urge it back into motion, but it didn’t. Her limp fingers felt soft and feminine on the back of mine. I pulled the end of the pencil up, lifting Mom’s skirt, and twisted it so the thin edge was toward Mom’s panties. Immediately, I felt it nudge into a soft and yielding groove that somehow felt damp though I knew I couldn’t really sense that. I wiggled the pencil and Mom’s hand left mine to cover her mouth. Abruptly, I jiggled the pencil up and down, working it into her pantied slit, surprising her so completely her hand closed tightly around her mouth to stifle the moan that threatened to rip out of her throat.

Dad snored loudly, caught his breath and snored again, then twisted his head away from us. I could see his eyes open as his head turned and fear made me jerk my hand and the pencil out of Mom’s skirt. Mom leapt to her feet and barked that she was going to bed as she hurried on unsteady feet in front of my still not-really-awake father. I grabbed the crossword book and gathered my housecoat about me, pulling my knees up and lowering the book to hide my enormous erection.

“I think I dozed off,” Dad said, shaking his head and looking at me. “Has your mother gone to bed?”

“Yeah,” I croaked. It was all I could manage. When I did manage to escape, I half ran up the stairs, my cock getting even harder as I realized the tip of the pencil was indeed damp.

Something told me to avoid Mom the next day so after supper, I didn’t join her on the couch, even to sit at the far end. Her abrupt departure signaled that I had perhaps transgressed a boundary. If I stayed away and let things settle down maybe I could take up where I had left off. Why, oh why, had I done that fool thing with the pencil? What had come over me? Mom was clearly upset. At breakfast and dinner her whole body tensed up when she had to interact with me, which she kept to a minimum. So I decided to stay away and let it blow over.

I was completely immersed in a game when my mind suddenly filled with dread at the thought of Mom coming up to my room to confront me about my behavior the previous night. Without Dad nearby, Mom wouldn’t be restrained and a fight now could ruin everything. I quit the game and got up, searching for a book, anything that I could pretend to read downstairs until Mom went to bed. That’s when the message came through. Lynn was Skyping me.

“Hey bro.”

Lynn looked fantastic in a man’s open-neck t-shirt that clung tightly to her breasts. In the background, I could see her roommate. I couldn’t remember her name but in red bra and panties, who could give a shit? Lynn noticed the direction of my gaze.

“I’m right here, bro.”

I blushed and looked back at Lynn.

“So what’s been happening on the home front?”

“Nothing. Same old, same old.”

Lynn was happy with my expected brief response and quickly launched into a recap of her adventures which was probably what she’d called about anyway. My attention wandered to her roommate’s body, flitting about in the background, evidently in the process of getting dressed but somehow managing to remain in just bra and panties. Not that I minded. Her body was just as nice as Lynn’s. More streamlined, but nice.

When I had sat down, I had closed my housecoat tight but as I listened to Lynn and watched her roommate, I began tenting uncomfortably in my shorts. I shifted the chair closer to the computer to hide what I was doing and pushed the waistband of my underwear down to free my painfully bent cock. I knew the webcam didn’t show anything below my chest but I wanted to be certain. As Lynn talked, I absently fiddled with my cock and eventually starting stroking it. The thrust of her tits under the t-shirt and her roommates body prancing around filled my head with lecherous thoughts that I couldn’t ignore. I was feeling pretty smug knowing I was wanking off in front of them and getting away with it. It really added a delicious twist.