Chapter 12: Downstairs with Mom

I left my room about an hour after talking to Jenna with an idea of what I would do when I saw Mom again—inspired by Jenna creaming to the idea of teasing her father. I stepped lightly and quickly, with my tablet in my right hand, as I headed downstairs. I had dressed in a pair of loose, black basketball shorts and a body-fitting workout shirt of matching color. The downstairs was as dark as I had hoped, with the light coming from the television in blinking spurts of white, gray, and darker, mood-setting atmospherics. Dad lay on the couch to the right of Mom, swallowed by its size with his head on a pillow, and Mom sat on the back couch, her flaxen hair shining, despite the darkness.

My footfalls barely registered to my ears, but there was no way they’d reach Mom or Dad over the explosions and shell bursts of the war movie they were watching. When I rounded my side of the back couch, Mom turned her head, the surprise on her face making me smile as much as her outfit did. Had she expected me sooner or not at all? It didn’t matter, because now I was there.

Mom had dressed as though she had expected me. She wore a tight, gray tank top, low cut with three pink buttons in the center of her chest. If she undid those buttons, the halves would spread under the pressure of trying to contain her breasts and reveal her twin mounds almost to her nipples. Her shirt had a pink, lacy trim, as did her gray boy shorts. They were small shorts, the kind that a teenage girl might wear despite being too small for her body. The smallest portion of Mom’s butt would hang out if she stood, showing off that smile at the bottom of her cheeks—the crease that formed where her hamstring met the meat of her ass. The shorts were small but not tight, and the leg holes didn’t lay flush against her thighs. At the right angle, they’d hide nothing from my prying eyes.

As dirty thoughts passed through my head, my cock thickened, begging me to take a look between my mother’s legs as quickly as possible.

“Did you take a pill tonight, Dad?” I asked, sitting down on the cushion next to Mom.

“Why, are you afraid I’m going to sleep down here, and you won’t get the TV?” Dad asked, then yawned. “Yeah, I took a pill.”

“Just asking,” I said. “You won’t mind if I talk to Mom while you watch your movie? We were talking about colleges today, and I’ve been looking at some and—”

“Whisper,” Dad said. “Whisper, and let me fall asleep.”

“You got it,” I said.

“Colleges?” Mom asked, looking at me as the TV’s light danced over her face, striking like lightning as the scenes changed. Her tone may as well have said, Is that best you could come up with: Colleges?

I shrugged, and Mom looked back at the TV. I hit my tablet’s touchscreen and opened a text file. I thought for a moment before I typed, Are you upset about this afternoon?

After studying the words for another minute, I slid my tablet over to Mom and said, “Have a look at this one.”

Mom turned her head toward the tablet. She puckered her lips, then took it from my hands and read what I had written. She took her time, and I slid closer to her, my shoulder and thigh almost touching her.

I watched as Mom raised her right hand and brushed her fingertips across the tablet’s border. She took even breaths, then her fingers typed, punching the keys with quick strikes, hitting backspace, then moving more slowly. I didn’t read her words so much as I watched her graceful fingers poke at the keyboard.

She handed the tablet back to me, and it read, I don’t know.

Oh, man, how was I supposed to work with that? I typed back, You didn’t say no, and I handed Mom the tablet.

I know, Mom typed and handed it back to me.

I moved closer to Mom, placing the tablet between us, resting it on our thighs, my right, her left. I typed, I had fun. I paused, my fingers hovering over the soft keyboard. I would have been with Jenna today if you hadn’t let me do that. I took my fingers away, placing them below the tablet on the side of my upper thigh. The backs of my knuckles were close to Mom’s skin beneath her shorts—so close I could feel the warmth of her body.

Mom typed, and I read, That doesn’t make it right.

But it makes me safe, doesn’t it?

Before Mom could answer me, I opened another window, clicked on a picture folder, and brought up a picture of Jenna in a tiny, emerald bikini that lay plastered on her skin like a hentai drawing. The upper and lower swells of her breasts were on display while her nipples poked against the green nylon of her bikini bra as if green were her nipple’s natural color. She was on her knees, sitting back on her heels with her thighs spread. The V of her legs narrowed toward her teenage cunny, where the thickness of her meaty, outer labia bulged outward from her panty’s triangular covering. And beneath the green fabric, every fold of my girlfriend’s pussy pressed against her panties, projecting her labia with three-dimensional craftsmanship.

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 to me like that, 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 wasn’t dressed as a fifteen-year-old girl. 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.