Chapter 15

I have to admit I’m depressed. I now knew that Mom was not the simple victim of my father’s clandestine affair with my grandmother, that she could be devious, and that she had desires of her own that could be considered wild if not beyond the pale. Even when I thought I was in control, I had been played yet I still wanted to have edgy sex with Mom, I just lacked confidence that I could meet her expections.

On the other hand, I felt I was falling in love with Mary as a person and wanted a relationship with her outside of sex, and wanted sexual interactions with her that were more caring and romantic. But though I believed this feeling was reciprocated on her part, I also knew she couldn’t deny her son and, after the morning’s episode against the fridge, I knew she would spread for his cock any time he wanted it, that she may even come to crave it.

I withdrew into the stories, looking for more letters, especially from William, Craig, Mark, Jack and Kevin. The first one I found was an update from Craig (Chapter 14).

Hello group. Craig here, carrying on with my story, about me and my Mom, Myra.

I woke to sunlight streaming in the window through the venetian blinds and the sound of a radio drifted through the half ajar bedroom door. That was Mom’s voice singing along and I could tell that Nana and Gramps weren’t home simply by the relative modernity of the music that was playing. It was almost ten o’clock so I was about to get up but stopped when Mom’s singing started getting louder, indicating she was coming this way. I didn’t want to get caught half out of bed with my morning hard pushing my shorts out, so I stayed put.

“Morning,” Mom cheerfully sang out, brushing past the door with a tray full of juice, eggs and toast, walking toward me. “Sit up,” she said, leaning over to set the tray down. There was even coffee, and slices of apple and oranges.

“Wow Mom. Thanks.”

“You think I’m not going to look after you just because we’re away? Anyway, I have a favor to ask later.”

Mom walked around the bed unbelting her robe as she went.

“We’re on our own until supper. Nana and Gramps are out for the day. So eat your breakfast and think about what we should do.”

My eyes had been following Mom and I stopped chewing the piece of toast lodged in my mouth when she opened her robe and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She was still dressed in the slip she’d worn to bed last night, clearly braless and probably without panties. Instinctively, I used both hands to steady the tray in my lap which was suddenly in danger of rocking off to one side, leaving the toast to hang precariously from my mouth.

Mom crawled onto the bed, providing me with a wonderful view down the bodice of her slip as she paused to puff up the pillows on her side before twisting around to sit back against them on top of the covers with her knees drawn up.

“Any bright ideas?” she asked as she reached to pick up the jar of skin cream.

I grasped the toast with one hand and began chewing as Mom dipped her fingers into the jar and started spreading the cream on her leg, rubbing it into her calf muscles with long strokes that stretched right down over the top of her foot to her toes.

“Can you turn the TV on?” she asked.

I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on without taking my eyes off her, thumbing the channel listing on.

“Next page,” Mom said after seeing nothing interesting in the first screen of listings.

She had moved on to her other leg. After paging through all the listings and then back, Mom finally selected a show to watch and finished that leg. I thought she might move on to her upper legs next and my midsection was already anticipating seeing her pull her slip higher so she could rub the cream on but she didn’t. Instead, she began applying the cream to her arm, holding it out while she ran her hand up and down its length, twisting to make sure she was getting good coverage.

“Eat your eggs before they get cold,” Mom chided me.

I busied myself with my meal, feeling as if I’d just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, but soon turned my attention back to Mom. It was arousing watching her slowly massage her arm, especially the far one since I could watch her breast move under her outstretched arm, the slip pulling tightly against it to accent its outline. When she changed arms, looking in my direction again, I turned to finish my breakfast so she didn’t catch me staring.

The show had changed by the time Mom finished her arms, shoulders and her neck and she seemed to be quite interested in the women’s talk show that came on. I set the tray down on the floor and sat back to drink my coffee. Mom, intent on the show, scooped up some more cream and absently tugged on her slip which, because her knees were still up, fell high on her thighs. Almost as an after thought, she tucked the slip between her legs, perhaps being aware at some level that she wasn’t wearing panties, but I think it seemed to be an unconscious action.

Mom started to apply the cream much more slowly, her attention riveted on the discussion between several of the women on TV. My attention, on the other hand, was on the way her hand moved over her soft upper thighs. She slid her feet down the bed so that her knees lowered about a foot or so but didn’t lay flat on the bed but were still slightly bent and open so she could easily move her cream covered hand between her legs. After watched this for several minutes and her preoccupation with the talk show, I made a quiet suggestion.

“Would you like me to do that for you Mom?”

“What?...” Mom was distracted, still watching the TV but starting to turn her head toward me. I stiffened, thinking I had made a boo boo until she said, “Oh, would you?”

“Sure,” I answered, taking the cream and dipping my fingers into the jar.

“Your father used to do this for me, you know,” her head was already returning to the TV. “He used to do lots of things,” she mumbled. I applied the first stroke of cream on the top of her thigh, near her knee. “You don’t mind?” she asked.

“No,” I replied quietly, pushing my cream covered hand toward her hip, fingers trailing down the inside of her leg.

I hope this is an hour long show, I thought as I resupplied my hand and languidly applying the cream. Several minutes later, the show went to commercials. I was about to retreat to the more neutral territory of her knee while the commercials were on when Mom closed her eyes and sank back in the pillows, so I continued pushing higher, and lower, into softer and softer turf. I didn’t try to touch sacred ground but I certainly came close.

When the commercials ended, Mom opened her eyes and resumed her intent consumption. I changed legs and began working my way from that knee toward the enchanted forest again. I could see the faint outline of my mother’s bush under the material she had tucked between her legs and she definitely wasn’t wearing panties.

I was creaming near the chapel when the commercials started again and yes, it was an hour long show. Mom closed her eyes and relaxed into the pillows, allowing me to continue applying the cream. She didn’t make a fuss about me overworking that same upper area, switching back and forth from thigh to thigh. She seemed to be simply enjoying the rest. My fingers were stretching down between her legs perilously close to a taboo scraping when the show started again.

Mom didn’t open her eyes.

“Mom,” I whispered. “Your show’s on.”

I whispered again when she didn’t respond. She opened her eyes, startling me even though I’d been calling her. My hand froze, holding the inside of her thigh, and again I felt caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

“You know, I think I’m just going to have a little nap. I was up so early with Nana and Gramps.” Mom’s eyes closed again.

I looked down at my hand, reluctant to let go, wanting to continue touching her, to keep this newfound intimacy.

“Would you like me to do your back?” I asked.

Mom didn’t answer. Instead, she sat up and turned away, my hand slipping off her leg, until her back faced me. Still not answering, she raised her hands to brush the slip’s straps off both shoulders, then awkwardly pulled her arms out. I was stunned and fascinated as she pushed the slip down to her waist. I couldn’t see her breasts but knew they were bare, hanging freely in front of her.

She twisted then, stretching her legs out and turning face down onto the bed. I only caught a glimpse of her tits as they dangled under her body before she lowered herself and hid them from my sight. Tentatively, since she hadn’t actually said yes to my request, I put some cream on her shoulder.

“Mmmmmm,”

I moved my hand in a circle on her shoulder before trailing my fingers down her spine to the small of her back.

“Mmmmmmm,”

I guess I had my answer.

As I began applying more liberal quantities of the skin cream, working all over her back and up her sides, Mom whispered, “Your Dad used to get quite naughty when he did this,” she paused, then added, “but that was a long time ago.”

She didn’t speak again. I massaged and massaged the cream into her back until she was breathing deeply and regularly. I changed then from doing her back to stroking all around the edges. Along the top of the slip where it lay across her buttocks, down along her sides, along the swell of her breasts where they squished out from between her chest and the mattress, up and down her spine and then over to the other side. I pushed the slip up the slope to rest on the rise of her buttocks and paused once in a while to marvel at how sexy she looked, the beauty of her glistening contours.

I wasn’t sure what else I could do. Though I was sure Mom was asleep, there was no way I could squeeze my hands between the mattress and her breasts though I dearly wanted to touch her tits. Stretching my hand over her back, I grasped her far hip and gently but steadily exerted pressure, lifting up and toward me. Slowly, slowly, her hip began to rise, then suddenly she twisted onto her side, back toward me, moving about until she settled into a comfortable position with her knees bent and slightly in front of her.

I leaned over her to look at her breasts, now hanging free. I could see all of them. Her bare tits. After waiting a few minutes for her breathing to settle down, I cautionsly brushed my fingers up her side and over the swell of her tits on the upper side. I was elated when she didn’t react. Scooping up a copious quantity of the cream, I returned my hand to the meaty swell of her tit and mushed it down over the underside, cupping the full weight of her breast and spreading the cream up and over, my palm dragging over her nipple, bending it flat, pressing in to squeeze the cream all around it.

I stopped, my hand gripping her tit. Had her breathing changed? No. A thrill swept through me again and I started spreading the cream down to the other tit. Soon, I was fondling both tits, almost mauling them in my excitement but eventually backed off and began a more sensitive massage and manipulation of her nipples. These began to fascinate me and I spent a lot of time rubbing them, twisting my slippery fingers all around them, pushing them in, bending them, pulling them out.

I realized after a while that my boner was poking into Mom’s backside. Looking down, I could see it tenting out from my shorts. My legs were still under the covers but my pelvis was above. Deliberately, I aimed my tented shorts at her ass and shifted forward, my boner poking into the fleshy part of her ass. I experimented with poking it in and out there but suddenly lost control as an incredible feeling burst through me, jabbing my cotton covered boner between her cheeks, holding her hip to bring her tighter against me.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ahhhhhhhhh.”

I jerked against her, then quickly pulled back in a panic as I realized I couldn’t come against her or she’d know. When my contractions finished, I pulled Mom’s slip higher on her hips and quietly snuck off the bed into the bathroom where I cleaned myself up and rinsed my shorts out before throwing them in the laundry. Grabbing another pair of shorts, I returned to bed, clicked off the TV, and lay down facing away from her, hoping to convince Mom that I too had fallen asleep. Though I had just woken up an hour earlier, I did.

My eyes popped open and looked frantically around. Something had woken me up. I strained to hear, listening for telltale sounds in case Nana or Gramps were home. Nope. The only sound I could hear was the radio Mom had left on.

Mom. I looked down. I was still laying on my right side. Her arm was draped over my waist, underneath my own arm, but her hand, her hand was resting limply on the bed, right in front of my jockey shorts. Then the thing that undoubtedly woke me up happened again. Mom’s delicate hand moved and cupped my jockeys, palm and fingers cupping my already hard cock down its full length. I was just getting used to the exquisite sensations imparted by her hand when it dropped away again to lay limply on the mattress.

My eyes hurt, I was watching her hand so intently. Move, I thought. Move. Suddenly, it did just that, cupping me like before, my cock lurching against her hand though it was constrained by the tight jockeys. Was she dreaming? Did she think her arm was around Dad? Dare I push my jockeys down so I could feel her hand on my bare cock? Her hand dropped away again.

Mom! Stop!

No. Don’t stop. I mean, stop taking your hand away.

Please touch me again. Please hold it.

Ahhhh glory. Yes, that’s good. Don’t let go.

I pushed myself against her hand, daring to move my hips just the slightest bit to extract all the exquisiteness I could pull from her touch, rubbing a minute stroke in her palm. Oh, God.

Oh no. Her hand had loosened. It didn’t just drop away like before, but I could feel it loosening. Please don’t take it away. Oh, oh, oh, God. Oh God. Yes.

My cock was still loosely cupped by Mom’s palm but her fingers had curled away and now her fingernails were scratching their way up my shaft. She was under the tip now, scratching so softly back and forth with two or three fingernails, constantly. God. I was going to come again. I couldn’t stop it.

It’s coming. Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Jesus. So good.

Mom’s hand fell away. The front of my jockeys were soaked but the tight waistband had stopped my spunk from escaping. As I lay there, wondering what to do, Mom’s arm slid away, dragging her wonderful soft hand and fingers with it. I turned to look behind me a moment later. She was laying on her back, beautiful breasts uncovered, rising and falling with her even breathing. I escaped once more to the bathroom to clean myself. I had to sneak back in naked to get another pair of shorts, boxers this time. Carefully, I slid under the covers and pretended to be asleep. Mere minutes later, Mom woke up.

My head was twisted down toward my feet but actually I watched through slitted eyes as Mom sat up, her tits jiggling to a standstill, looking gorgeous through the mirror at the end of the bed. She stretched, arching her back, her sexy thick nipples pointing at the roof. Her arms fell to her sides as she relaxed. She turned to look at me then at herself, at her bare chest. I could see her examine herself, then her arm, lifting and crossing it in front of her, comparing it to her chest, turning her head to look at me then back at her chest and arm, both glistening in the early afternoon light. She smiled.

Mom snaked her arms through the slip’s straps and pulled it up over her breasts. Smiling to herself again, she grabbed my shoulder and shook me.

“Wake up. Come on lazybones. Wake up.”

I ‘woke’ slowly, feigning revival from a deep slumber.

“Come on, let’s go out.” Mom was off the bed and walking around toward the bathroom. “Get dressed while I get a shower.”

We had a great afternoon. We spent time wandering through some malls, shopping. One of Mom’s favorite things, but I didn’t complain, not once. Mom seemed so happy about that, mentioning it several times. “Smart men should be rewarded,” she laughed. “I don’t know why men are so stupid, complaining all the time. If they just shut up and acted as if they like it a bit instead of ruining it, it would work out so much better for them. Don’t you think?”

I wholeheartedly agreed. A no brainer.

Mom shut off the elevator again on the way home to Nana and Gramp’s apartment. She asked me to turn away while she put on the bra she had brought along in her big leather bag. But when she had her blouse open she said, “Here, hold this.” She pulled on my arm and handed me her bag while she dug around in various pocket trying to find the bra. Now partly facing her, I couldn’t help looking down at her swaying tits. “Having fun?” Mom asked, finding the bra and starting to pull it out of the bag.

I went beet red and turned away, holding her bag to my chest.

“It’s OK Craig, I was just kidding. Here hold this.”

I turned back to her to take the bra while she took her blouse completely off. Her tits were swaying chaotically all around as she pulled her arms out of the sleeves.

“Perks of being a helpful shopper,” she laughed, “but don’t let your Dad in on it. He’s too old to learn new tricks anyway,” Mom laughed again, taking the bra and deftly fixing it to hold her treasures.

“So your mother can shock you, can she? What’s the matter?” she went on, “Cat got your tongue?”

Mom gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, switched the elevator back on, and started tucking the blouse into the waist of her long black skirt. She turned her sparkling eyes up to me when she finished, just before the elevator stopped, “So, are you going to come shopping with me again?”

I nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah Mom.”

Mom laughed at my response. “Well,” she said, “perhaps next time my little reward won’t be so dull next time.”

I was pondering her words, wondering what she meant when she laughed again just as the door opened, “I was positively glistening this morning, but I guess the shower washed all my shine away.”

My face was reddening again but Mom didn’t see it, she was walking briskly down the hall.

Dinner was the same as the night before. It was nice to visit with Nana and Gramps but I was relieved when they retired shortly after the evening news. The day had tired them out and the brief time with them, having to be so stiff and proper, had tired Mom and I out. We continued watching the TV for a while but thankfully, Mom suggested an end to that.

We were both sitting on the couch where we were when Nana and Gramps left. Mom abruptly swung her feet up and dropped them on my legs.

“Should we watch TV in our own little world, sport?”

I turned my head to smile at my mother, “Yeah Mom.”

“I’ll get something to drink and some snacks, turn the TV on and get into bed so I don’t have to avert my eyes later,” she laughed, bouncing to her feet and heading to the kitchen.

I rushed into the bedroom, doffed shirt, pants and socks and crawled under the covers, sat up against the pillows, and waited for Mom who arrived just a moment later with a bottle of wine and some of Nana’s home baked cookies. She dropped the wine, glasses and cookies on the table beside me, then walked to the door, closed it firmly but softly, and stood by the end of the bed.

“You didn’t turn on the TV,” she said.

I turned to get the remote which had fallen to the floor. Leaning way over to retrieve it I strained to pull myself back up and turned to turn on the TV.

Mom was standing there, sideways to me, looking out the window, unbuttoning her blouse. When she reached her skirt, Mom pulled the blouse up and continued undoing the buttons. She turned her head to watch the TV but kept her body facing the window, straight sideways to me. My cock rose when Mom began pulling her arms out of the blouse. She tossed it to the floor when her arms were free, then immediately moved to remove her bra. She did this slowly as well, though I knew it was something she could do with amazing efficiency. The bra hit the floor as well.

Her breasts sloped down and out, ending in beautiful round, beefy globes, not the pointy kind of tits I disliked, and capped by those thick, stiff nipples pointing slightly upward above the bulk of her swelling orbs. Fuck she had great tits.

Reticent to disturb this beautiful moment, I was surprised to hear my own voice.

“Is this for being such a supportive shopper?”

“Yes,” Mom answered, not turning to look at me.

“Can we go shopping tomorrow?”

Mom laughed but still watched the TV. “If you like,” she said.

“I like,” I answered.

Mom turned to face me then and walked toward me on my side of the bed, reaching behind to find the zipper of her skirt. Her tits thrust forward as her arms stretched behind her back.

“And I like the way you accept things. It’s so much easier when things are natural.” Mom forward to kiss my forehead. “And it will make things more comfortable in our own little world here.”

“I hope so. I like it when you’re ‘natural’,” I said, emphasizing the last word.

“Don’t be bratty, Craig.” Mom turned around then, surprising me when I saw up close how much her tits jutted out from her chest. “Unzip me,” she said over her shoulder.

My fingers belied my calm voice as they fumbled with the little zipper on the back of Mom’s skirt but I finally managed to pull it down its eight inch length. Mom wiggled her hips, pushing the skirt down her legs, making it look like much more of a struggle than it was, wiggling her bum no more than a foot from my face. She turned to face me again, naked except for her panties.

“Are you going to put some cream on me again, naughty boy? My skin gets so dry here.”

“Sure Mom.” Was she inviting me to be naughty again?

She returned a minute later with two new jars of skin cream in her hand, setting them down on the crowded table beside me. She was covered now in a nightie that fell to mid-thigh level but was cut low front and back. Mom carried on to the end of the bed and sat down, facing the TV.

“Come and do my back,” she said.

I grabbed a jar and scrambled out from under the covers, crawling to kneel behind her on the bed.

“Why did you put this on?” I asked, applying a little cream to her right shoulder and spreading it down her arm.

“Letting my son have a little peek is one thing, parading around in front of him is quite another,” she said.

I continued rubbing the cream into her arm, changing to the other when I finished.

“You can pull my nightie off my shoulders when my arms are done,” she whispered. “If you want to.”

Quickly, I finished her arm, then slowly pushed the shoulders of her nightie, each a wider swath of material than the thin straps on her slip, off and onto her arms. I waited to be sure there was no disapproval before grabbing the sides and tugging the nightie down to her waist, looking over her shoulder as her breasts were bared.

“Peeking is more fun, isn’t it?” Mom teased.

“I’m not too sure about that,” I bantered back.

Mom leaned forward, pulling her breasts out of my sight. “Do my back, brat.”

I concentrated on working the cream into Mom’s back, slowly working out toward the extremities like I had the night before. And, like last night, my rubs slowly turned into strokes and my strokes eventually turned into caresses. Mom suddenly sat up and leaned back against me.

“Do you want to do my front?”

“Your front?” I repeated, dumbly.

“Yes,” she purred, “like last night.”

“Last night?” I repeated innocently.

“Yes. Is it easier if you think I’m asleep?”

I was flabbergasted. She hadn’t been sleeping? But, how long ... did she know I’d come rubbing myself against her butt?

“Yes, asleep. I could tell my breasts had cream on them this morning, you know. It could only have happened last night after I fell asleep, so someone must have been naughty, maybe someone who thought he should take his Dad’s place since he can’t be here.”

I turned this over in my mind. I was caught, but only so far.

“So you really owed me a nice long day of shopping, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Sorry, Mom I just couldn’t help it.”

“I’m not mad,” Mom said, “I’m just saying, you really owed me a day of shopping.”

I thought about that. She wasn’t mad? She probably would be if she knew all of it. But what about her hand on me in the morning? She must have some needs that Dad wasn’t meeting. What had she said, ‘but that was a long time ago’ or something like that.

“I’m taking you shopping again tomorrow,” I ventured.

Mom laughed. “Yes, I know. Are you looking for a little advance?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you scoot back then so I can lean against you and stretch my legs out?”

Mom stood and I shuffled back until I was nestled in the pillows again, on top of the covers this time, with my legs apart to make room for her to sit. Mom walked toward me, very slowly, her tits swaying side to side with just a little up and down bounce, holding her nightie in front with one hand just above her secret part, but low enough that her navel wasn’t blocked from my view. Women’s navels are so erotic it’s a wonder we don’t try to put our cocks into them.

Thinking about that made me aware that my own cock was rock hard and pushing up against my boxers. My legs were open waiting for Mom, so it was plain to see, but I couldn’t close my legs. I didn’t look down, hoping Mom wouldn’t notice. She was smiling, looking into my eyes as I watched her breasts and her belly. She put her knee up on the bed, opening her legs. God I was hard. There’s something about seeing a woman’s legs part that sends tingles up and down a man’s cock.

Mom turned over and sat down in front of me, leaned back against me, wriggled about to get comfortable, and then laid her head on the front of my left shoulder.

“OK,” she said, “you don’t have to worry about waking me this time.”

I took the jar and set it on Mom’s tummy, then scooped some onto the fingers of both hands.

“Oh, two hands,” Mom marveled.

“Are you sure, Mom?”

“Go ahead, don’t be shy. Show me how naughty you were with your sleeping mother.” Mom’s voice sounded strained, excited.

I placed a hand beneath each tit, pressing the cream against the bottom of each globe. I wasn’t going to be shy. I was going to get right to it. I pulled my hand toward me, lifting her tits, then slid them up and over onto her nipples, grinding the cream in, twisting my palms onto nipples, bending them around in a circle, then squeezing my fingers in until I had a nipple between each thumb and forefinger, squeezing her globes and pinching her nipples at the same time.

“Ohhhhhhhh, goddd,” Mom gasped.

I tugged and tugged on her nipples, and squeezed and released her tits several times.

“Ohhhhh, god, Craig.”

“Too naughty, Mom?” I asked, but not letting up on her tits.

“No, its ok. You just surprised me ... I had no idea you’d ... been quite so ... such a bad boy.”

“Keep in mind that,” I paused to catch my breath, “tomorrow I’m going to be the best shopping buddy you’ve ever had.” I gasped, short of breath again.

“You promise?” Mom was down to just a few words too, her breath coming in short pants.

“Yeah.”

“Go ahead then, for a little longer.”

“Why don’t you just go to sleep?” Mom’s tits were really slippery with the cream now. I kneaded them continuously.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t let you get too naughty.”

“I’ll just do this, Mom. Just go to sleep.” I slowed my kneading down to a gentle massage and kept that up for several minutes.

“Go to sleep,” I whispered, cajoling. “We’ve got a big day of shopping tomorrow, you need to rest.”

I kept up my gentle massage, moving off her tits to run my hands down her sides, up to her face to rub the tension from her brow, over her shoulders and onto her breasts again. Soft, gentle, slow. I whispered to her, suggesting she go to sleep, that she was so tired, that she should think about being on a picnic laying on a blanket by a bubbling brook, with Dad and I nearby. It took a long time but Mom finally began breathing in that slow, regular way that I identified with sleep. I kept whispering and doing my gentle massage of her upper body for another five minutes or so before picking up the jar from her belly and dumping a big wad of cream onto her tummy.

I set the open jar on the table beside me and turned off the lamp so the room was lit only by the light from the bathroom. Gently I set my hands down on Mom’s hips, beside the large gob of cream I had piled below her navel. After thirty seconds or so, I slowly moved my hands to the center, collecting some cream onto each set of fingers and then pushing them lower on her tummy, toward the top of the pushed down nightie. I paused just above, then ventured underneath.

I could feel the fringe of her pubic hair. My cock lurched against her back on that first touch. This was so forbidden. God, the intensity of feeling tearing through my whole body, and my mind. My fingers must be near the top of her panties to encounter pubic hair already. I pushed lower, sliding outward to follow the crease between her tummy and her hips. Her pubic hair bristled against the edge of both of my index fingers. Her breathing changed. I stopped.