Chapter 13: Gradual Acceptance

I woke at seven in the morning to the sound of Jenna’s ringtone playing to the side of me—Shake It Off, by Taylor Swift. Jenna had programmed it for me, and it always made me laugh. It made my friends laugh, too, the fuckers.

“Good morning,” I said after grabbing my phone and swiping the call button.

“Morning, baby,” Jenna said. “Did I wake you? It sounds like I woke you.”

“You did, but I wanted to get up early.”

“Then, you’re welcome.” She laughed a sneaky sound. “You got that morning wood for me?”

“Always,” I said, stretching different parts of my body and twisting my hips from side to side.

“I remember the first time I felt your morning wood,” Jenna whispered. “Sleeping at Alice’s, after her party, with your dick pressing into my ass.” She made a hungry sound. “That was the first time I ever felt a hard cock against me. I felt it all night long while we slept.”

“Keep talking,” I whispered.

Jenna laughed. “I would, but I have to go to school soon. Summer school should be from nine to one.”

“Should be.”

“Guess what I did last night?”

“I thought that you were in a hurry?” I asked, laughing.

“Shut up,” Jenna said. “I did what you suggested.” Before I could say anything, she added, “I teased my dad!”

“Holy shit.” I thought that she’d do it, but not so damn soon. “Tell me about it.”

“Holy shit is right,” Jenna said. “After we had finished talking last night, I changed into one of my cropped, pink, cotton tank camisoles—”

“What?”

“God, Mark,” Jenna said. “You’re eighteen.” She laughed. “It’s an undershirt held up by straps and made of cotton, nylon, or satin that women wear to sleep. Look it up.”

I laughed.

“I changed into a tight-fitting top with little shoulder straps, but it was so tight on me that it could have been a bandeau.” I didn’t even ask what that was. “I was super nipply. My girls were sticking up large and hard. You know how thick and tight they can get.”

“Mmm, I do,” I sighed. “I miss them.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“My mom’s,” I said.

“Shut up,” Jenna said, laughing. “So, I changed into one of those without a bra and some matching pink boyshorts. I rolled the waistline down so I could show off the cut of my hips because I know you love that.”

I pictured Jenna’s hard stomach and long muscles covered by a single layer of feminine softness. My cock twitched, but I didn’t touch it. Not this morning. Not before I saw my mother.

“My shorts were loose, I couldn’t show off my C-toe, but I’m saving that precious gem for another day.” Jenna then said something to someone else, the sound of her voice faint through the speaker, as though she had pulled the phone away from her lips. “I got to go. It’s probably for the best because I’m getting so fucking wet thinking about last night, and I don’t want to sit in class with sloppy panties.”

“Bring another pair to school,” I said.

“I only bring an extra pair when we’re together.”

“Sexy,” I said. “Oh, wait! What happened with your dad?”

“Really quick,” Jenna said. “I think I made my dad uncomfortable, but I felt his eyes on me before he left the living room to go upstairs. Dad never goes to bed earlier, but he did last night. I have to go. See you today?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll see you sometime in the evening after I reassure my mom that nothing will happen between us.”

“Yeah, right,” Jenna whispered, giggling. “Nothing but some coming. Bye. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” I said, then added, “Oh, wait!”

“What, baby?” Jenna pouted. “I’ve got to go.”

“If my mom brings up our naughty pictures, you have to tell her that you deleted them.”

Jenna made an annoyed, clicking sound, but she said, “Fine, but I don’t like lying to your mother. She’s going to be my mother-in-law one day.”

Yikes.

“Thanks, baby,” I said. “Love you again. Bye.”

I disconnected the call, thinking about my words for the next half hour. Love you. If I loved her, then why was I willing to fool around with my mother?

But Mom’s the first woman you loved.

Was that my mind, heart, or cock whispering those words of wisdom to me? Logic versus feelings versus horniness—along with a little bit of truth from each of them. Jenna had been my neighbor for my entire life. Our parents had babysat us, and Jenna had been just a little brat until the day she wasn’t. Until the day she grew tits. (That’s a good reason to fall in love.) But, I did love Jenna, yet I had never dated anyone else, either.

I picked up my phone and spoke to the voice command, asking, “Mr. Internet: Is it okay for a man to justify cheating on the woman he loves?”

The clock on my phone said it was ten minutes until eight, so I killed the search before it had a chance to answer me, and I left my room for a shower. I didn’t need a shitty AI telling me that I was a terrible person. I finished showering after eight and dressed in a pair of basketball shorts with my boxer briefs beneath and a tight shirt. I had my phone in my left hand, ready to take some pictures and videos of my mother before I attempted to do a whole lot more.

I half-trotted downstairs, my muscles were loose, and my steps were light. I didn’t see Mom in the living room, though the dark curtains were open, while the transparent curtains remained shut. I peeked into the seldom-used great room, and it was empty as well, so I spun on my heels and walked down the hallway that led straight into the kitchen. Halfway there, I heard the faint sounds of French music, the kind that deserved playtime on an old phonograph. I didn’t know French, but my mother did, and I knew she listened to those songs whenever she needed some relaxation in her life. Was that a good sign or a bad sign?

When I exited the shortcut hallway and stepped into the kitchen, I saw Mom in the same position as I had seen her yesterday morning. She sat at the breakfast table with the light streaming into the house through the breakfast area’s swinging glass doors. Mom had the morning paper in her left hand, which tilted her body away from me, but not much.

She didn’t look at me, and her right arm lay curled around her waist. She wore an off-the-shoulder, rib-knit, long-sleeved T-shirt that was violet in color and seemed to make her flaxen hair brighter. Her elf-queen profile looked sharp this morning, and she was wearing makeup that highlighted the regalness of her features. She sat with her legs crossed, her right over her left, the hem of her shirt barely covering the tops of her thighs while revealing the entire side of her leg and the cheek of her ass to me. Whatever she thought about last night, it hadn’t stopped her from wearing a G-string this morning.

That had to be a good sign.

It had to be.

“Good morning,” I said as I entered the kitchen and walked behind the kitchen island, ignoring the fridge and leaning against the island’s marble top.

“Good morning,” Mom said, not looking up at me.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“I had a good time last night.” I placed my phone in front of me, sliding my right forefinger across the screen and selecting the camera icon. “A real good time.”

“I’m sure you did,” Mom said, her voice sounding measured and controlled, her breathing deepening as she spoke.

“You didn’t?” I asked as a tingling sensation rode the length of my shaft.

“I’m keeping you out of trouble,” Mom said. “How I feel about last night doesn’t matter.”

“I liked it, just saying,” I said, matching my tone to my mother’s, then uttering a sigh that made my mother roll her eyes. I smiled. “You didn’t like it just a little bit?”

Mom tightened her lips and tilted her head further to the left. Was she smiling? Could I guilt her into a smile, the way I had when I was younger? She must have liked it, or else she’d be wearing pants today.

“You know,” I said, elongating those two words, “if we could keep last night going, I think—I’m not promising anything—but I think I could stay away from Jenna—sexually—for the next two years and one month.”

“You think you could?” Mom asked. It sounded like a question, despite her flat delivery. She uncrossed her legs, and her thighs rubbed together in the smallest of movements possible. “I think I deserve the promise of a stress-free month for what I was willing to do for you last night.”

My cock swelled with my mother’s words. The head thickened faster than the body as the corner of her mouth pulled into a smile. “I thought staying away from Jenna last night was what I was doing for you,” I said as my member filled up my shorts.

“Promise me a stress-free month,” Mom said.

“I’ll promise you a stress-free month,” I said, “as long as you keep my mind off of Jenna.”

Mom waited and waited with the newspaper held in front of her. Was she thinking? Was she reading? Was she toying with me? Teasing me? My skin tingled as I waited for her answer.

“Did you want to take some pictures of me?” Mom asked. “Before I go upstairs to work?”

“Yeah,” I said, licking my lips. “I do. Something like ... last night?”

“Come on,” Mom said. “Let’s go to the living room and remember that I’m still your mother.”

I nodded my head as my mother stood. Her rib-knit shirt barely covered the bottom cleft of her pussy, which left a whole lot of leg exposed to my eyes. As she passed me, I turned my body along the path of my gaze. Mom didn’t look in my direction, so she didn’t see my erection tenting my shorts, nor did she see my cock jerk when I saw that her shirt didn’t quite cover the bottom of her ass cheeks. As Mom left the kitchen, I followed her to the living room, where she walked to our couch and sat down in the exact spot she had sat last night.

“How would you like me to pose?” Mom asked, adjusting the hem of her shirt, though sitting as she was, it could barely cover her lap, and again, it left her left leg bare to the upward curve of her butt.

I sat down on the opposite end of the couch. How did I want her to pose? With her legs spread and her panties stretched between her knees while she reached down and spread her pink petals wide enough for me to see the inside of her motherly channel. (Lately ... I may have been watching too much porn with a little too much blonde pussy gaping.) I wanted to get down to business, but instead...

“Just like that for the first couple of pictures,” I said.

Mom sat still, facing forward with her hands in her lap. I snapped a picture, making sure to capture all of her. I couldn’t see her nipples through the thickness of her shirt, but I imagined them to be puckered tightly and as hard as diamonds. I took another picture, zooming in on the exposed side of her ass, cropping her upper body out of the picture. I could show my friends that picture one day, and they’d never know...

The thought of bragging about my mother to my friends without them knowing who I was talking about sent a chill through my cock and a buzzing through the soles of my feet that curled my toes. I liked it when my friends checked out Jenna. I liked knowing I had someone they could never have. Another chill went through me, turning my nipples sensitive, and I scratched my chest, the prickling sensations causing me to shiver.

I looked up from my phone’s viewer and looked at my mother. “Mom,” I said, “can you turn on the couch and face me, like last night.” My heart sped up. Not as hard as it would have before last night’s finger session, but hard enough to make my body tingle and my blood rush. “You can keep your legs together ... for the first few pictures.”

Mom looked at me. I saw defiance in her eyes, but she wore an expression of bratty sullenness that I found adorable. She did as I told her to do, lifting her feet and turning toward me, keeping her knees and feet together, so her shins created a wall that hid her pussy from me. I snapped several pictures, and though Mom dropped her eyes from me and looked toward the back of the couch, I didn’t think that she was mad at me. Her eyes appeared to be looking inward as if contemplating some inner turmoil that was too terrible to ignore. (That may have sounded dramatic, but I needed to believe that Mom’s desire for me was as strong as my desire for her.)

Fight your conscience, Mom. Fight it.

I snapped more pictures, saying, “Turn your eyes toward me,” as I did.

Mom did as I told her to do. Her eyes looked big, with an accusing light that made my cock harder as the pressure in my balls grew stronger. My sack constricted. Was this turning Mom on as well? Was her conscience fighting the sexiness of this moment? Was it easier for me because I had been a child growing up and adoring a grown woman while Mom had been a grown woman adoring a child who had become a man, with manly desires? The weight of that on her conscious would have crushed most people, but here was my mother, who had let me jerk off on her yesterday morning and who had let me finger her last night—I doubt there was anyone in the world who could have understood her mind at that moment.

“You’re beautiful,” I said in a near whisper. “Thank you for this.”

I snapped a picture, then another, smiling, and a small, soft smile appeared on my mother’s lips as I looked down at my phone’s screen. When I raised my eyes, her smile vanished, replaced by a sullen, resentful half-glare.

“Spread your knees for me, Mom,” I said, moving closer to her. “The way Jenna wants to spread her thighs for me, but I’m resisting her because I have you to look at.”

Mom tilted her head, her eyes widening and her mouth tightening.

“Where’s my tablet?” I asked, looking around the living room. “I still need to delete her pictures.”

“It’s in my room,” Mom said. “I was going to remind you to do that.”

“Spreading your legs for me is reminder enough,” I said, my voice wavering as my breathing deepened. A harsh, swirling tingle circled my knob and glans, and I shuddered as precum escaped the tip of my cock. “Can you lift your shirt above your panties for me, too?”

Mom’s cheeks sucked inward, and she narrowed her eyes. After a deep breath, her face softened, and she slowly spread her knees open, followed by moving her feet apart. A sun-golden hallway of smooth, semi-muscled thighs pointed the way down to the V of her crotch. She was wearing snow-white panties that seemed extra bright against her tan skin. As her shirt continued to her waistlines, Mom’s straw-light pubes came into view, and I drooled at the smallness of her panties. They barely covered her outer pussy lips, but they were also transparent, allowing me to see everything between my mother’s thighs: mound, clitoral hood, her little jewel, and her tight slit.

I swallowed, saying, “Thank you, Mom, for dressing this way for me.” I licked my lips, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because my cock was near to bursting, and my mouth wanted to dive between my mother’s legs without asking for permission. “I don’t know any other mom who cares this much about their son.”

Mom stared at me, looking me in the eyes. Her lips trembled, then they spread into a soft, almost pleased, smile before returning to the straight-lined pout that they had held a second ago.

The transparency of my mother’s panties ended at her perineum, turning into a string that I could have used for dental floss. I could see the rim of her asshole on either side of that string. Fuck, I wanted to rim her forbidden pucker. Mom’s left knee hit the back of the couch while her right knee hovered over the floor beyond the edge of the cushion. She turned her feet onto their outer edges, bringing them together, and she sat with her legs resembling a wide-open bear trap that needed springing.

The urge to rush between my mother’s thighs rumbled through my body. I wanted to lunge forward. I needed to. For a moment, the world swooned, and it seemed as if nothing could stop me from moving between my mother’s legs and taking what I wanted. My vision narrowed, focusing on the visible flesh beneath my mother’s panties, and as the primal desire to take what I wanted settled over me, my mother’s voice cut through my near loss of control, bringing me back to reality.

“Take the picture,” Mom whispered, her voice thick and husky. “I need to get to work.”

I raised my camera, pointing it right between my mother’s legs. I looked at her muff, the meat of her pussy squished and contained beneath her too-tight panties, then I looked at the viewscreen, then back at my mother. Snap. I lowered my phone, stared between my mother’s legs, then raised the camera again and snapped several more pictures. I took my time, looking, not looking, listening as my mother’s breathing grew deeper, and the mesh fabric centered over her slit dampened to a darker color against her pussyhole.

A deep groan escaped my lips when the first of Mom’s juices became visible to my eyes.

“Mark,” Mom whispered. “Don’t be vulgar.”

“I can’t help it,” I whispered. “Yours is the”—I paused, trying to will my mental bravado to the surface— “your”—I swallowed— “your pussy is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“Mark” Mom said in a gentle tone, “thank you.”

I snapped another picture, then zoomed in between her legs and snapped another. My cock hurt, the shaft aching, and the tip alive with an energy that kept my precum flowing. I reached out with my left hand, holding my phone with my right hand.

“Mark,” Mom sighed, warning me with her tone. “Mark, Mark ... Mark.” She closed her lips when I placed my hand on the inside of her right knee, the sound of my name fading away to nothing.

My fingers made the journey down Mom’s thigh, stopping to absorb their outer softness and inner firmness. The further down my mother’s leg I went, the warmer my hand grew. When my fingertips brushed the softest meat of her inner thigh, right before the dip leading into the hollow between her leg and outer labia, Mom shivered and placed a hand over mine. She stopped my fingertips an inch away from her panties. As I held my hand against her, I swear I saw her pussy pulse as if swelled by the excitement or the desire coursing through her in the same way I could flex my cock whenever I chose. Whether it was my imagination or not, I believed that I had just seen her cunny reaching outward for my touch.

“Mom,” I said, my voice sounding far away to my ears. “Your pussy would be even prettier if you weren’t wearing your panties.”

Mom’s next breath trembled as she pulled air into her lungs.

“Please?” I curled my fingers, rubbing the tips over Mom’s sensitive flesh. “Seeing wouldn’t be the same as touching.” I looked up at her. She had her eyes locked on my hand, but she must have felt me staring because she raised her gaze to meet mine. “I was going to see Jenna today, but I don’t have to.”

“You can see Jenna,” Mom whispered. “You just can’t do anything sexual with her.”

“Then I won’t do anything sexual with her,” I said, “if you help me with those urges.”

Mom closed her eyes.

I pushed my hand forward, dragging her hand along for the ride. My fingertips met the leg band of her panties, and her pussy seemed to swell towards my digits. The dew between her lips had pasted her panties to the softness of her muff, and her pussy looked eager and desperate for my attention.

“Keep your eyes closed,” I said as gently as I could. “I’m going to take your panties off you ... and keep them for myself.”

I had no idea that I was going to say that.

Mom trembled.

She visibly trembled.

“Okay,” Mom whispered, keeping her hand on mine.

I set my phone on the back of the couch. Mom kept her eyes closed, but when I placed my right hand on the inside of her left thigh, she placed her left hand over mine. I moved down her flesh, welcomed by her heat and the guidance she offered me. My fingertips moved between her legs, my eyes following, and my mouth watering as I took in the bottom of her cheeks, her little, string-covered asshole and the triangle of her labia draped in transparent silk.