Pretty Mama - Cover

Pretty Mama

Copyright© 2011 by JimmyStarling

Chapter 4

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Young artist secretly depicts his hard working mother's unguarded moments. How will she react when she discovers she's her own son's favorite model?

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Incest   Mother   Son   Masturbation   Voyeurism   Leg Fetish   Slow  

Teagan felt light headed. Between the champagne and adrenaline, she was in a rare state. The biggest transaction of her career had closed barely two hours ago.

She and her staff of five were having a small celebration in the conference room, but she'd left them to sit a few minutes in her private office. Despite a day of tense excitement and a thousand details, one thing alone had dominated her mind: the simple touch of her finger against her son's spurting cock.

She twirled the plastic stem of her glass between her fingers. Half full or half empty?

No matter what else she could think, do, or say, beginning the day as she had was a milestone in her life. She'd wanted nothing more than to lie in Blake's bed until he woke up and rolled over to clutch her body to his, to feel complete in herself as he took his natural place between her welcoming thighs.

She'd finally left him to finish sleeping, and padded barefoot to her room in the main house to shower and prepare for her day. Her knees had felt like rubber, but her body was full of light and sensation.

She'd been thinking of him and not the day ahead when she pulled on a tight, nylon thong before her pantyhose. The way his eyes furtively devoured her shapely legs and mound when he rubbed her feet made her blood simmer.

The constant pressure of her thong along her warm cleft all day kept her feelings very much alive. Even now, she could feel the warm clutch of his hand over her breast. It was a relief to have some time away from the others, but it only made her thoughts even more vivid. The ache in her heart burrowed even deeper.

She picked up her cell and hit Blake's number. The last of the champagne went down easily as she listened through two and a half rings. The sound of his voice brought a picture of him to life in her mind in striking color.

"Did I interrupt you working?" she asked, imagining him in the midst of creating another naughty image of her.

"I was working, but you're not interrupting," he replied.

She told him her business was finished for the day and the staff was celebrating a job well done.

"Oh. Okay. Well – um – great."

He actually sounded jealous, and it put a smile on her face that felt like it would be plastered there for days.

"Yes," she started cautiously. "And it's put me in sort of a bind. I've had some champagne, and I think I need you to come get me and drive me home."

She was overstating her condition, but the thought of Blake coming to rescue her put a sweet taste in her mouth.

"When?" he asked. His voice sounded softer.

"Anytime you can. I'm dying to get out of here," she said sincerely.

"Long day, I'll bet."

"It was incredibly hectic." She paused and let one shoe slip off. "And I could really use one of your famous foot rubs."

Her tone came off more kittenish than she meant, but she didn't care. She crossed the shoeless foot over the other knee and rubbed her toes, but it wasn't nearly the same as Blake's strong, careful hands working the day's kinks out of her muscles.

She began feeling very unprofessional tingles in her pussy as she thought of her son's hands running over her legs, his careful fingers digging into the muscle.

The skirt she'd chosen for the day would probably break dress codes in most offices, but she was the boss. Lately, she had a hard time thinking beyond that one part of her day when she walked into Blake's studio and saw his eyes light up and consume her. There was a small slit up one side of her skirt. In her cross legged position, it was riding high on shapely legs adorned in the sheerest black hose she owned.

"You like my foot rubs, don't you?" His tone gave away a smile.

"Yes, Sweetie, you know I do. I'm addicted to them, remember? And today it's practically an emergency," she giggled softly.

"I can be there in fifteen minutes."

"Baby, you're Mama's angel."

Teagan spent a few more minutes behind her desk imagining her son jumping up to rush out and pick her up. He'd scramble to hide the latest naughty print he was working on so she wouldn't discover his secret. She almost felt guilty having the upper hand, but it seemed to even things out when she thought of the prints she'd already posed for unknowingly.

Her hand slid up her smooth thigh and came to rest on her lightly throbbing mound. She cupped and pressed.

What would she have done a week ago if Blake had come out and asked her to pose? It would have surprised her, but she couldn't say she would have refused. Now she found herself wishing he'd ask.

The list of things she wouldn't do for her son was growing shorter every day.

When Teagan got back to the conference room, everyone but Richard had gone home. The hour was already stretching into early evening, and she was in too good a mood to question the wisdom of being there alone with him. Blake would be there any minute now, and every pore and nerve felt alive with anticipation.

Until now, she hadn't even thought about the way Richard had been looking at her the last couple of days. She was sure everyone in the office noticed the changes in her appearance. They weren't exactly blatant, but not exactly subtle, either. There were a few times she even snickered privately imagining what they'd think if they knew the changes were for her sweet, beautiful Blake. It made her feel naughty inside in the most delightful way.

But now, Richard was on the verge of leering and Teagan was put off. She was his boss, and a couple glasses of after hours champagne was no excuse to get overly personal.

"You didn't have to stay behind if the party was breaking up," she said, hoping he'd take his cue and leave before Blake arrived.

Richard emptied the last of the champagne into two of the plastic goblets and stood up to hand one to her. He had an unmistakable glint in his eye as he ticked his glass against hers, taking a noticeable scan of the generous cleavage peering up from the top of her blouse.

"Someone had to stay behind and polish off the last of the bubbly," he said with a smirk.

Richard was older than Blake, but still a decade younger than Teagan. He'd been noticeably attentive the last couple of days, and now she could just about swear he was trying to get her drunk.

"I don't think there's a rule it has to be finished," she said with a smile she didn't feel.

She started to wish Blake would hurry, but at the same time she wondered if someone like Richard would be the kind of distraction she needed from these unmentionable dreams and desires in her body and mind. It seemed strange to have room in her head for both thoughts.

Richard was almost as handsome as Blake. Almost as fit, almost as witty and attentive.

That was Richard. He was simply – almost.

Maybe she'd avoided men like Richard too long. She'd always wanted to focus on Blake, but he was a young man now on the brink of a promising career. How much did he really need her anymore? How much more could they ever really make of their lives together? How long could she go on teasing herself to distraction?

Richard suddenly reached up and touched her face. She was too surprised to react.

"Sometimes, don't you just want to be with someone?" he asked, gazing down at her face.

"Richard, this is really..."

Then he leaned down and kissed her. She froze. She was stunned enough to feel completely disoriented until his arms encircled her waist and he pulled her body close. Panic set in and she tried to get her hands up to his chest to push him off.

Teagan finally got her hands against Richard's shirt and gave him a hard shove. She wasn't as close to the wall as she thought, and when her body swept backward she just kept falling until she went down on the floor with her legs in the air and her skirt riding almost to her hips.

She took Richard by total surprise, and he would have hit the floor, too, if he hadn't been able to catch hold of the chair behind him. None too gracefully, he managed to land in a sitting position.

"Someone call for a ride?" Blake's voice suddenly broke in from the doorway.

"Oh Blake – uh – hi," Richard nearly sputtered. "I was just..."

"You were just leaving," Teagan cut him off with a dagger sharp voice. The only panic she felt now was that Blake would get the wrong impression.

"Musta been some party," Blake observed with a stone face.

He calmly walked to his mother and held out his hand. She let him pull her up and she promptly looked down at the floor. She was dying to blurt out it was all an accident. Blake had to know she never wanted Richard to kiss her, but she was sorely afraid of giving away her deepest feelings. She couldn't imagine how awkward it would be if anyone in her office knew of her feelings for Blake. Especially Richard.

No one had anything to say until Blake reminded Richard he was leaving. Blake's face was curled into something between a smile and a sneer.

"Well – um – it's getting pretty late, I guess, so ... good seeing you again, Blake."

"Yup."

Richard headed briskly for the door. Teagan lifted her face just in time to catch him pausing to look back. She didn't like the curious look in his eye just before he turned down the hallway. Blake was looking at her now, but not at her face. She nervously smoothed out her rumpled clothes.

Blake was stone silent all the way to the car and halfway to their house. It was Teagan who finally broke the ice.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea, Sweetie. Richard just made an impulsive move and I lost my balance."

"Probably none of my business," he said in a monotone.

She caught his eyes drifting over her legs and she shifted in her seat to cross one over the other.

"Of course it's your business," she told him. His streak of jealousy started having a very pronounced and unexpected effect. It was driving the temperature between her thighs higher.

"I'm just your son. It's not like I have anything to say about what you do."

Teagan could barely suppress a smirk of delight.

"You're also the man of the house," she forced her voice to sound steady. "And I wouldn't want you thinking I wanted something like that to happen."

"I won't always be around. I'll probably be selling some prints pretty soon and then I'll be able to get a place of my own. Maybe it's high time you meet someone so you won't be on your own after I move."

Teagan felt herself bristle. She always felt such excitement over the prospect of his success, but the reality of Blake ever leaving wasn't something she wanted to face. She might have had a stronger heart for it in times past, but now it hit her like a splash of cold water.

"Did you sell something?" she asked tentatively. Dread and giddiness wrestled in her mind as she watched his impassive face.

"No."

"But?" She knew there was more to it.

"But nothing. I'm sorry I brought it up."

She went as quiet as he did, but she knew him too well. He had to be courting an interested client or he never would have mentioned it to begin with. She couldn't help wondering what kind of prints they were interested in. His pretty landscapes, or the erotically naughty images of his own mother he still didn't realize she knew about.

They rode the last few blocks in silence, and Blake pulled his car into Teagan's usual parking spot in the garage.

He was first out of the car and on his way upstairs. She got out and stood by the passenger's door not knowing if she should follow him. She hadn't seen him this upset in some time, and it was probably best to go on into the house and let him have his time alone. He'd be getting ready for work in a couple more hours anyway.

"Aren't you coming?" he called from the top of the stairs.

Teagan felt her whole body soften and go warm again. She made herself take the stairs at a normal pace; one at a time. It was the best she could do in the pumps she had on.

The easel where he normally set his latest print stood conspicuously empty. The ritual wine glasses were set out on the coffeetable, already full while he put the bottle back in the fridge. She toed off her heels by the couch and watched him turn back to face her.

"Don't you want your massage?" he asked.

"I didn't think you were still in the mood to give one."

"I'm fine," he practically snapped.

Teagan had to look down so he wouldn't see her giddy smirk. It was suddenly impossible to remember why she ever imagined needing a distraction from the way he made her feel. She didn't look up again until she realized he was moving.

"It's stuffy up here," he pointed out as he went to raise the windows overlooking the driveway.

Teagan felt even warmer when he approached with a serious look and tugged on the collar of her jacket to remove it. She shrugged out of it while he slipped it off her arms and set it on the back of a chair.

Now he was the one looking down. "I just know you like to be comfortable," he half mumbled.

"Thank you, Baby, yes. It's so much more ... relaxing. Would you be a darling and help me with my skirt, too?"

She felt him touch her waist from behind. Both hands, both sides. His fingers pulled the zipper with barely a whisper. The tight skirt went slack and he peeled it down the curve of her hips. She was sure she felt a telltale tremor in his hands, although he wasn't rushing his movements.

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