Chapter 3

The following morning I watched Mom prepare Dad’s breakfast while I ate mine. I had risen earlier than usual and gone straight downstairs still in my pajamas, hoping to catch Mom in her nightdress, but no such luck. She was already dressed in a demure housedress that covered her to her knees. Still, I enjoyed watching her move about the kitchen while I ate, imagining what her body looked like under her dress. She did have a charming figure, that much was evident. When I finished, she pointed at the breakfast she’d prepared and asked me to take it up and feed Dad.

“But Mom,” I complained, “We talked about this yesterday. The doctor thinks we should do things in front of Dad together. You should feed Dad when I’m in sight behind you.”

Mom blushed a little, then agreed that we should feed Dad together. Once again, I enjoyed Mom’s behind as I followed her up the stairs. Dad was still in bed. When she asked me to lift him out so she could feed him in his chair, I suggested it would be easier if she sat or kneeled beside him on the bed since it would leave room for me to stay in sight behind her. So mom kicked off her shoes and crawled up onto the bed, standing on her knees in front and to the side of Dad. After handing her his breakfast I crawled up behind her as she began to spoon the mixture of raspberry yogurt and fruit into his mouth. I placed my knees on either side of her calves and closed in behind her but not near enough to touch.

I didn’t do anything for the first few minutes. Then, tentatively, I put my hands on the top of her shoulders and began a gentle massage. After a while, Mom leaned back a little. I moved to give her room and she followed, settling on my upper legs. I moved my hands down to massage her back while she continued to feed Dad, a slow process. At one point, I moved my hands to her side, sliding up toward her armpits along the side of her breasts. Mom flinched.

“Oh, gosh, look what I’ve done!” Awkwardly, she climbed off me, turning to crawl off the bed. “Darn, it’s going to stain.” She handed me the yogurt with the spoon in it. As she twisted to get her feet on the floor I could see a dollop of red yogurt spilled on her chest. Quickly, she ran into the bathroom, reaching around to unzip her dress. Much as I wanted to, I didn’t follow her into the bathroom, although the thought popped instantly into my mind after seeing her unzip her dress. I remained kneeling on the bed, imagining the dress being pushed down off her body.

I heard water running, filling up the bathtub. “Damn, ... damn,” I heard her cussing as the tub filled with water. After just a minute or so, the water stopped and I could hear her swishing something around in it. A moment later she emerged from the bathroom, dressed only in the slip she must have been wearing under the dress. There was a faint reddish smudge on it as well, where it lay on top of her right breast. Since she was looking down at it as she walked toward me, I was free to look over her body covered by the thin cotton slip. I could see her dark nipples pressing against the material and I could also discern the outline of her panties, which were not the large Mother kind I was pleased to see.

As she approached the bed, I held the yogurt to her in an unspoken request for her to resume her feeding. Without a word, Mom crawled up on the bed taking her previous position, but stayed up on her knees as she started feeding Dad again. I nestled myself in behind her, placed my hands on her waist, and gently pulled her back until she was again sitting on my thighs. Sliding my hands up and down her waist, I whispered close to her ear, “Don’t be so jumpy, Mom.” Then, “I’m going to try kissing you on the cheek and neck again, to see if Dad reacts. Keep an eye on him.”

I gave her several innocent pecks on the cheek, gradually increasing the duration that my lips were pressed against her cheek, letting them pinch her skin as each kiss ended. My kisses became less innocent, more sensual, though they remained but caresses on her cheek. At the same time, I slowed the movement of my hands along her waist, allowing them to reach high enough that they brushed against the swell of her breasts. I blazed a trail of kisses from her cheek through the hollow of her neck and along her shoulder, returning on the same path with nibbling lips to kiss her cheek again. She shivered several times as I retraced this path several times. Looking down her chest as I progressed, I could see her nipples pushing out. She was getting excited and had stopped feeding Dad.

“Keep feeding him, Mom,” I whispered softly in her ear as I started another trek along her shoulder, this time keeping my hands still against the sides of her breasts instead of moving them down to her waist. I let my tongue slip out of my mouth to tease her shoulder. When I encountered the strap of her slip I didn’t kiss over it this time. Instead, I used my tongue to drag it over her shoulder and push it down onto her upper arm. As I retraced my path back along her bare shoulder, I pressed my right hand more firmly against her breast and pulled my left out to push the strap off that shoulder as well.

Mom didn’t seem to notice that her straps were now hanging on her shoulders. In fact, she had closed her eyes and had stopped feeding Dad again. I let my lips trail up her cheek and beyond to her ear and kissed it quickly before retreating to her cheek. Before heading for her shoulder again, I returned to her ear to plant a longer kiss there. I slipped my left hand over her shoulder to gently grasp her throat, using it to pull her head back. Her neck stretched and bared, I kissed down to the hollow of her neck and around to her throat. I gently nibbled her neck under her chin on the way back, then landed a long, sucking kiss in the hollow of her throat.

Mom’s hands had fallen to her lap where they loosely held the almost empty bowl of yogurt. Her slip had fallen forward a bit given the extra range allowed by her loosened shoulder straps. The tops of her breasts were bare and I could see her stiff nipples jutting out just below the edge of her slip. I molded my fingers around the swell of her right breast. I reached down and around her with my left hand to quietly remove the bowl from her hands, setting it on the bed beside us, and then shifted my hand under her arm to grasp her left tit the same way.

Kissing my way back to her ear, I whispered, “Keep your eyes closed, Mom.” I let my tongue reach out to trace the circumference of her ear. “I think we should let Dad see you a bit,” I whispered, “to jog his memory. Keep your eyes closed, now.” I didn’t want anything to jar her into stopping now. “I’m just going to raise your slip a bit, so he can see your legs a little better. Just a tiny bit, Mom.”

Reluctantly, I slid my hands away from the sides of her tits, down her waist and along her thighs to grasp the hem of her slip. I started dragging it up her legs. “Keep your eyes closed,” I reminded her, tugging her slip up several inches until it wouldn’t come any further, held by the pressure of her legs against mine.

“Lift up a bit, Mom.” As she did, I slid my hands, holding the hem of the slip, under her legs and dragged it way up so that when she dropped back down again it wasn’t caught between us. Her thighs were now bare on top of mine, and her rump nestled in my lap separated from my hard cock only by her panties and my pajamas. I was very excited.

Her slip was higher than before on top of her thighs but not anything near as high as I’d pulled the back up. Reminding her to keep her eyes closed, I told her I was going to pull her slip up a little more, just the tiniest bit, so Dad could see her legs and maybe jar a memory of her. Despite my assurance, I pulled her slip right up, uncovering her panties. I couldn’t actually see because my view was blocked by her breasts, but I knew they were bare to the world. Awesome!

“He’s not reacting yet, Mom. Open your knees a little. Just a little,” I begged her. Her legs parted, a good three or four inches. Double awesome!

What else could I do? I didn’t want to waste her surprising acquiescence. What could I do? I thought hard.

“He can see you,” I whispered, “and me behind you.” I hoped I wasn’t going too far. “He’ll think I’m him. What did he do when he held you like this?” I was deathly afraid that prompting her to speak would break our spell. I waited on pins and needles for her reaction.

“I hardly ever let him. Because of Grandma,” she whispered back. Because of Grandma? What did that mean? I had to find out more about that later. I pushed her further.

“But what happened when you did let him?”

“He held my breasts and...”

I raised my hands up to grasp the sides of her breasts. Holding my breath, I slipped my fingers around to hold her tits in my hands, very gently, lest I break this spell. Still, I couldn’t help parting my thumb and index finger to let her nipples slip between them.

“and then...?”

“He’d try to push me onto my tummy.”

I pictured Dad trying to fuck my Mom from behind, like I knew he did with Grandma. Is that why she wouldn’t let him? Did she suspect? Did she know? My cock pulsed erratically.

I pushed my chest against her back. “You have to let him, Mom. It could bring him back.”

What a shameless asshole I was. I nudged forward more. She resisted. I pressed again.

“No,” she whispered.

You’re going to ruin it, you dumbfuck, I chastised myself. Nevertheless, I pushed on her back again, letting my hand fall to grasp her waist, keeping it tight against me. I put my head between her shoulder blades and pushed, pressing her up with my knees. She began to yield. I pushed more.

“No,” she whispered again, more quietly.

I pushed harder, lifting my hips to lift her rump. She fell forward and I used my hand to push her head down onto the pillow beside Dad. I lifted her slip and draped it on the small of her back, baring her rump except for her panties, a feast for my eyes. I moved forward to press my tented pajamas against her panties. Tentatively, I pressed against her.

“No,” she said again, not whispering this time.

I pushed my cock against her anyway, firmly, and kept it pressed in.

“No,” she was back to whispering again, hoarsely this time.

“There’s a flicker in his eyes,” I lied. “We can’t stop now!” I cried.

I was too scared to thrust against her ass but I moved enough to rub myself on her. Shifting around, I tried to fit my straining cock into the crack of her ass, finding the sponginess of her pussy where it puffed out below her ass. It was warm, very warm. I was starting to wonder if I could actually fuck her when I started to come. I yanked my hips back, fearful that the feel of my wet spunk would ruin any chance of this happening again. When my hips stopped gyrating, I pulled the slip down to cover her and pressed my hand on her back until she lay flat, breathing heavily.

“It worked, Mom. I saw something in his eyes.” Mom lay on the bed, breathing heavily. I looked up at Dad. Shock! He was looking right at me. A piercing look. A hard, flinty glint. Then it was gone.

When I gathered my thoughts I spoke to Mom again, though in a faltering voice, “We have to try again, Mom. It’s working.” I was still disconcerted by Father’s look. Had it been real? I got up from the bed, thankful that Mom couldn’t see the soaked front of my pajamas. She was still lying on her tummy when I left. It was all I could do not to climb between her legs and start rubbing myself on her again.

After I showered and dressed, I went downstairs. Mom was there dressed in a fresh blouse and slacks.

“Hi honey,” she greeted me. “Would you like me to call you for lunch when its ready?”

We were back to our normal mom/son relationship. “Sure,” I called back, heading to Dad’s study. I needed to find the rest of his story.

Browsing through the fourth bundle of stories, searching for the rest of Dad’s story, I came across one that I thought was by Frank so I started to read it. I had read the first page before I realized it was by ‘Francis’, not Frank. I continued reading anyway.

Hi everyone. My name is Francis and this is what happened with my mother. My Mom is quite thin, always has been. She has a fairly pretty face but you wouldn’t give her body a second glance because she’s quite flat-chested and doesn’t have much of an ass, either. But my view on this changed one very hot summer day when I was home from school, still without a summer job.

I spent my time lolling around the house. We didn’t have an air conditioner and when the temperature soared, I began shedding clothes, eventually hanging around in just a pair of shorts.

“You’re so lucky,” Mom said that hot afternoon, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her arm, “being able to wear just shorts.”

“You could do the same, Mom. I wouldn’t mind,” I said with a grin.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” she smiled back.

“Why don’t you just wear a bathing suit then?” I suggested.

“I don’t have one. You know I don’t like going to the beach,” she replied in a semi angry tone. Mom didn’t like the beach because she was shy about being thin and flat chested. I hadn’t seen her at a beach since I was really little.

“Well, just wear a bra and panties, then. It’s just like a swimsuit.”

“I don’t think so, Mister.”

“Well, roast then,” I casually dismissed her problem, having suggested a solution. I returned to reading my comic book. I had started working my way through my old comic book collection since coming home.

Mom read her magazines, huffing and sighing and complaining about the heat for most of the next hour. I ignored her. Finally, she spoke directly to me again.

“It wouldn’t bother you, if I did?” Mom asked.

“Did what?” I replied, not even looking up from my comic.

“Just wore a blouse and panties around the house.”

I replied with exaggerated disinterest, “Nope.”

Mom went upstairs. When she came back down, I pointedly refrained from looking in her direction, keeping my nose buried in my comic book. After a while, when I could feel she wasn’t looking my way, I stole a few glances. She had indeed changed into just a t-shirt and panties. Now, I wouldn’t have thought she would need a bra anyway but her t-shirt clung to her chest and I could see her nipples poking against the fabric. I’d never noticed this before. And her t-shirt wasn’t quite long enough to cover her panties, so I could see them, too. Despite what I’d said, it certainly wasn’t the same as a swimsuit. My swelling prick attested to that!

Acting as if nothing was different, she asked me if I’d like some lemonade if she made some. Nodding absently, I turned my eyes to look at her as she walked away to the kitchen. I was stunned. My mother, who didn’t seem to actually have an ass, sported two great looking pear-like globes that moved erotically with each step, pushing out against her panties. How had this treasure been hidden? Her cheeks hung low, rather than sticking out. Was that it?

I got up to follow her and stood watching from the doorway as she made lemonade. Her little ass was truly divine. I would have loved to see it in more revealing panties.

Glancing over her shoulder at me, Mom said, “You’re sure this won’t bother you?”

“No, not at all,” I assured her. I walked up behind her for a closer look at her cheeks. “It’s cooler without a bra, isn’t it? You don’t really need one anyway, you know.”

“I’m quite aware that I don’t have anything up top, young man,” she rebuked me.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant,” I quickly scrambled to redeem myself. “I only meant that you don’t need one to hold things up, ... I mean ... you don’t, uh ... you’re not saggy like bigger women,” I finished off, lamely.

“No, I guess that’s a plus,” she acknowledged.

“Anyway, big ones were a big thing for Dad’s generation. Guys my age like smaller ones,” I added, quickly feeling like I was overstepping myself again.

“Is that so?” Mom replied with skepticism.

“Yeah. Really, Mom,” I assured her with enthusiasm. “Big ones are ugly.”

“Oh.” She smiled, then added, “I don’t like wearing them anyway, you know. They’re uncomfortable and you’re right, I don’t really need one.”

“Well, you shouldn’t wear one. You look good without it.”

“Hmmmm,” Mom responded, turning to face me. “Would guys now-a-days really like to look at small ones like mine?” she asked.

“I would!” I blurted out loud, without thinking, looking at her t-shirt. My face reddened. I started to bluster a recovery, then just stood there.

“I don’t think Dad would think very highly of that,” she mused and then, with a little laugh, added, “For that matter, I don’t think he’d like me wandering around the house in my panties, either.”

I just stood there, not knowing what to say or do.

“But what the hell,” she said, “It’s so hot out.” She reached down and tugged her t-shirt down, the stretched material emphasizing her small breasts, and particularly her prominent nipples. “See, this is all your mother has.”

I stared down at her chest. She arched her back to amplify her limited assets. Her tits were beautiful in my eyes. They were small, yes, but the normal sized nipples looked extra long on her breasts.

“They’re nice,” I finally choked. It was clear that I wasn’t kidding, that I meant what I said.

“Oh. Well. Thank you very much, Francis.” I could tell by her voice, the way her eyes glanced shyly down, that Mom was pleased despite her kidding tone. She really wasn’t used to men complimenting her breasts and I could tell she liked it.

“Well, if I did take my shirt off, you wouldn’t gawk at my tits all the time, would you?”

“No, Mom,” I tore my eyes away but they soon strayed back to her t-shirt, latching onto her nipples once again.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I suppose I could tolerate you looking. I’m sure you’ll tire of it soon enough.” Mom poured two glasses of lemonade and walked toward the living room with the glasses in hand. “Come on, then.”

My eyes fell to her ass as she walked. As I followed her, I noticed for the first time that I was hard. I wondered if she’d noticed the bulge in my shorts.

Mom sat on the couch and started reading her magazine. I sat next to her, not in the chair where I’d been before. I sipped my lemonade, staring at her nipples poking up from her t-shirt. Eventually she looked up, “Is that all you’re going to do all day, stare at my tits?”

“Sorry, Mom. I just haven’t seen you like this before.”

“Well, you’re the biggest fan they’ve ever had, that’s for sure. God knows, your father certainly strains his eyes looking at other women with bigger ones,” she complained. She looked down at her chest and laughed, “Well, they do seem to like your attention.”

Mom turned her eyes back to her magazine, letting me carry on ogling her shirt. I let my eyes stray down to her panties, her open legs providing a great view. I could see the crevice below her mound where her pussy lips parted, pouting out against her panties.

“I thought you were fascinated with my breasts,” Mom suddenly asked. Quickly jerking my head up, I could see her looking right at me, a quirky smile on her face. I went beet red. “Go read your comic now,” Mom instructed me. I did, but I couldn’t help but look over to check her out now and then. She didn’t seem to mind. About an hour before Dad usually came home, Mom went upstairs and got dressed in her normal attire. When Dad came in, everything was prim and proper.

When I got up the next day, Mom had gone out shopping. I was sitting on the couch in my shorts reading a comic when she came in the front door about noon.

“My god, it is SO hot out there,” she announced, dropping her stuff in the hallway and walking into the living room toward me. “Should we have some lemonade, sweetie?” she asked stopping in front of me.

“Sure,” I started to get up.

“No stay, I’ll get it,” she said. But she didn’t move, she just stood there. “Were you bored, honey, sitting here with nothing to look at?” she finally said, that quirky smile reappearing on her face. I could feel the blood flushing to my face. She lifted her foot and stretched it out to me. “Why don’t you undo my shoe for me?”

Flustered, I undid the ankle strap and slipped the shoe off her foot. She kept it still in my hand, not pulling it away, so I rubbed the bottom of her foot, then slid my hand up the back of her calf and rubbed the muscle in her leg.

“Mmmmm, that feels good,” she sighed. I did this for a minute or two before she pulled her foot away to replace it with the other. I did the same for that foot. Then she pulled it away to and just stood once more in front of me.

Without a word, she dropped her hand to the side of her skirt, cocked her hip, and pulled the zipper down. Uncocking her hip, she let the skirt fall to the floor. Her blouse fell low enough to cover her panties in front so that it looked like she was only wearing her blouse. She stood again for a full minute, just looking down at me while I gazed at her pelvis. “Come on,” she finally said, “Let’s go get some lemonade.”

I followed her into the kitchen, not able to see her ass in just her panties because her blouse covered her backside as well. As she retrieved two large glasses from the cupboard she instructed me to fetch the lemonade from the fridge. When I came up behind her, she told me to reach around and fill the glasses. When I was done, I put the lemonade container back in the fridge and returned to stand behind her. She stood in front of our lemonades, not doing anything. There was a strange tension in the air. I felt awkward but I didn’t want to leave.

“Should I take off my blouse and just wear my bra?” she broke the silence. “Would you like that, Francis?”