Chapter 6

That wouldn’t be a worry for a while anyway since there were a lot more bundles of letters in the box that I hadn’t looked through. I began reading through them, one by one, instead of skimming through looking for particular names. I even went back to read some of the ones I’d passed over. One of the first of these was from Colin.

Hi. Colin here. So I’m going to tell you about my Mom and I. She was quite a bit younger than my Dad, being his second wife. He had two kids with his first wife. They divorced because of his affair with my Mom. I wasn’t supposed to know that but my older half sister told me about it. Mom was eighteen years younger than Dad. She was forty-three now and still working though my Dad had retired at sixty. He spent more and more time away fishing with his buddies in their campers.

Mom had short, brown hair with a pretty face. She was slender but not muscular since she never exercised, at least, not that I’d ever seen. Her arms were soft and white, with a few freckles sprinkled about, like her face. Her legs, as I found out, were quite nice. Not like the sculptured stems you seen in magazines, or on some of the more buff girls at school, but nicely shaped even so.

This I discovered when Mom dug out some old dresses she hadn’t worn for years. Dad had buggered off a few days earlier on yet another camping trip with his friends as soon the warm weather hit. A few days later, in the heat, Mom complained about not having anything to wear, and the prices of clothes these days. With Dad being retired, we were OK but not as pat as we had been, which is why Mom still worked.

Anyway, I came home from school to find her sitting on a lawn chair in a sundress that was shorter than her normal dresses, riding several inches above the knee. This was the first time I noticed her thighs, which were normally covered but were now exposed half way up because of the way she was sitting. I particularly noted how the fleshy part underneath her leg bulged out.

“Hey Mom,” I greeted her as I walked through the screen door into the backyard.

“Hiya,” she answered, continuing to read her magazine.

“New dress?” I queried.

“Oh,” she put her magazine down, “just something I pulled out of storage. I’ve got boxes of these in the attic.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re working on your tan, because you’ll have white parts showing for awhile,” I remarked, still focusing on the fleshy part of her thighs I hadn’t seen before.

“Don’t worry, you brat,” she laughed, lowering her magazine, “I won’t embarass you. I’ll only wear them around the house.”

I couldn’t help notice that the sundress was cut lower in front. Not plunging. It was a square cut but it showed the tops of Mom’s small breasts which were very white of course. Mom noticed my gaze and followed it down to look at herself.

“I’ll get tanned soon enough so you won’t hurt your eyes, smarty pants,” she laughed again. “Why don’t you make dinner tonight so I can work on my tan?”

She was quite pleased when I agreed to this. Over dinner, I asked her about the boxes of clothes she’d discovered. Evidently they were just old clothes she used to wear and had kept. She intended wearing a new outfit everyday, just for the fun of it, and to stretch her wardrobe out which was in dire need of expansion. Long after dinner, while I was watching a movie, Mom wandered up the hall from her bedroom wearing a strange outfit.

“What do you think of this?” she asked, smiling and doing a slow twirl in front of the TV. She was wearing a lime green pantsuit, or more of a one piece jumpsuit. It had a hole over her tummy, swept in a cross over her breasts behind and around her neck, leaving her entire back bare. “Isn’t it wild? Can you believe we used to wear things like this?”

She struck various poses, laughing, then plopped down on the couch beside me after I agreed it looked pretty weird.

“What are you watching?” she asked, suddenly ignoring her costume. I told her what had happened and she settled in to watch it with me.

During one set of commercials, when Mom got up to make some hot chocolate, I paid a little closer attention to her outfit. As she stood and walked away, I noticed that her butt seemed more clearly defined. This observation floated in my mind without me really grasping it while I listened to her in the kitchen. Then it dawned on me. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. There were no discernible panty lines, no tightening and battening down of carelessly moving parts. I had actually seen the independent action of each cheek as she walked away. I felt a familar stirring, although one that had never been associated with my mother.

“It’s on,” I called as the movie started. I glanced up from the movie as she walked slowly back in the room, treading carefully so as not to spill either of the two large mugs she was carrying. Since she was looking down, keeping a careful eye on her payload, I had the opportunity to scrutinize her closely. I couldn’t see any pantyline from the front either and though I couldn’t see her belly because of the mugs, I could see the nipples of her breasts which were never visible. She couldn’t be wearing a bra. Of course not, dimwit, I thought. Her back was bare.

“Here, sweetie,” she handed me one of the mugs and carefully sat down beside me again, but a little closer. We watched the movie while we sipped our hot chocolates. Mom drank hers faster than I since I was either sneaking glances at her, or thinking about her instead of the movie. When she leaned forward to set her cup on the coffee table the front of her outfit, held to her only by the loop around her neck, gapped forward allowing a peak at the sides of her breasts. There was no doubt about it, she wasn’t wearing a bra and there wasn’t anything built into it to hold her breasts from falling against the thin material.

When the next set of commercials started, Mom commented on how well the hot chocolate had ‘Hit the spot’ and asked me if I wanted more.

“No,” I replied, and quickly added, “Here, have mine. I don’t really want it,” to dissuade her leaving. I wanted her to stay next to me.

“Are you sure,” she asked, settling back down.

“Absolutely,” I assured her, handing the mug to her.

“No, leave it there,” she said, indicating that I should leave it on the end table. Disappointed, I set it back down. Now there was no reason for her to lean forward, no opportunity for me to glimpse the side of her bare tit through the gap in her suit.

“Oh, I’m so stiff,” she groaned as soon as she sat down, stretching her arms up and leaning forward until her hands rested on the edge of the table, then pushing them further into the middle.

Wonderful. Her outfit gapped wider than it had when she had reached for her mug. I could now see more than just the side of her tit, I could see the top sloping down almost to where her nipple must be. I could feel my cock swell. Unconsciously, as she started to pull back, I stretched my hand out to rest it on her back, blocking her retreat. Belatedly realizing the how blatant my action was, I moved my hand across her shoulders, brushing my fingers lightly across her back. She instantly relaxed, leaning forward again.

“Oh, that feels good,” she sighed. Encouraged and relieved that my action wasn’t seen for what it was, I continued, tickling her upper back with my fingertips. She shuddered and shivered as if I was touching very sensitive parts though I was just tracing her shoulder blades. “Oh, that’s lovely,” she cried softly.

“Your father used to do this for me,” she mentioned a moment later, “for ages, a long time ago.”

“Don’t stop,” she added as I paused, digesting this hint of intimacy between her and my father, something I couldn’t remember witnessing. I continued tickling her back as the movie started. She didn’t look up to watch. I brought my other hand into play and let my brushing fingers caress more than tickle.

When the commercials started again, Mom leaned back, collapsing against the couch, and me, nestling against my side. “Oh god that felt great,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I answered.

She looked up and smiled. “Can I have some of your hot chocolate now?”

I picked up the mug and handed it to her.

“No, you do it. My arms are too relaxed.”

I held the cup gingerly to her lips. Not because it was hot — it was surely cold by now — but because I was suddenly nervous for some reason. She opened her lips and I tipped some in, careful not to spill. I tipped it several more times until she shook her head slightly and then I set it back down. As I twisted back toward her, she asked, “Will you do my back some more?”

“Sure,” I replied, like it was no big deal. Mom stretched her feet out on the couch and, turning on her stomach, lay her head in my lap. Oh no! She was sure to feel my bulging crotch. Not to brag, but how could she not notice laying right on it? What would she think of me?

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” came the quiet response, “don’t wait for the movie.”

I started again, using my left hand to lightly brush across her shoulders. As the movie progressed, I again brought my other hand into play, moving my left lower on her back to make room. Mom didn’t make a sound except for the odd sharp intake of breath as I struck a sensitive part, which seemed to be a different spot every time. Soon I was straying farther and farther, dipping into her sides, running my fingers along her waist up to the sides of her breasts, eventually letting them press her flesh where it squished against the couch.

“Dad used to get frisky like that.”

Her voice startled me. I stopped, my hands freezing to her skin. “Don’t stop,” she instructed. I continued, slowly regaining my ‘frisky’ ground as I realized she wasn’t mad. I caressed her right through the next set of commercials. Suddenly, she raised her head. “What’s up with the movie?” she asked, but not seeming to expect an answer. Her body shifted as she craned to see the TV and when she settled back down her head was farther up my lap, squarely over my cock which was definitely hard.

The shift caused her to lay more on her side now, allowing deeper access to her left side. I began stroking her as soon as she lay her head back in my lap along the line of my previous boundary and even straying beyond now that I had access. Except now there was no physical restraint. I could have slipped my hand right in and taken actual possession of her breast. I wasn’t sure how far I could go, so I proceeded cautiously. But I did venture further. I moved my right hand up to pull her hair back and caress the top of her shoulder, sliding down into the hollow of her neck. I let my fingers stray down the front of her shoulder under the material of her outfit. My left hand moved up and down her side, slowly, but only along the side of her breast, my fingers rubbing over her swelling flesh.

Mom never gave any sign that I was doing anything wrong so I continued stroking the side of her breast until the movie ended while the fingers of my right hand stretched down from her shoulder to reach onto the swell at the top of her breast. When the movie ended, she pushed herself up and kissed me on my cheek.

“A little frisky, like your Dad used to be, aren’t you?” she remarked, and then kissed my cheek a few more times, her lips seeming to stick a longer each time. “That was nice, honey. Thank you. Now it’s time for bed.”

As she stood, I blurted out, “I’ll tickle your back for you again, Mom.”

“Really?” she asked in a surprised tone of voice. “Be careful, I’ll want you to do it every night.”

“I don’t mind,” I rushed my assurance.

Mom just smiled, not her usual kind of smile. There was something different about it. I watched her walk away, marveling at the distinctive pout each cheek made as her feet took turns hitting the floor. I hoped every outfit was like that one.

That night I wanked myself silly. Drifting off to sleep, I wondered about what had transpired. Mom had almost let me cop a feel, and made no bones about it. Amazing!

The next day, Mom wore an almost schoolgirl looking outfit — a simple white blouse with a plaid, kilt type skirt. The skirt showed her legs well enough, almost to mid-thigh level, but the blouse was a thick, cotton starchy looking affair. Not revealing at all. My disappointment was quickly supplanted by interest in the views the kilt offered when the it split to reveal her upper legs. And though the thick plaid material didn’t reveal the contours of her behind, my memory of the distinctive features of those supple globes was sufficiently fresh from the evening before to trigger my imagination each time I had the opportunity to ogle her when she was walking away from me.

So I accepted what I was offered and enjoyed watching her throughout the day. I hoped the opportunity would arise to ‘tickle’ her back again, and that she would change into a more revealing and accessible outfit like she had the night before. But I was disappointed. Mom didn’t change and, though she joined me to watch TV after dinner, she didn’t ask me to tickle her back, or give any indication that she wanted me to.

Scanning the online channel guide just before nine o’clock when she seemed restless and about to head for bed, I selected a chick flick I knew she’d like rather than one of the available actioners. Seeing my selection, Mom seemed to settle in to stay.

“I’ll watch that with you,” she said. “Would you like me to make some hot chocolate?”

“Sure Mom,” I answered appreciatively, and then, as if trading favors, offered in return, “I could tickle your back for you if you like.”

“Oh, that would be nice. But you don’t have to. I know it was a long time last night. Are you sure?”

“Yeah Mom. I don’t mind at all. It’s actually kind of relaxing.”

“Great.”

By the time the movie started, Mom had returned with two mugs of hot chocolate and sat next to me on the couch. We sipped our cocoas through the first act, Mom intent on the movie while I was intent on the pressure of her thigh against mine. She rested her right arm on the couch behind me and absently toyed with my hair, like she did when I was little. When she finished her hot chocolate, I offered her mine, placing it to her lips for a sip. I didn’t drink any more but kept raising it to her mouth. I toyed with the notion of spilling some on her starchy white blouse so she might change it but chickened out in case it made her angry.

When the mug was empty, I set it down and wiped the traces of chocolate from the corners of her mouth with my fingers. She continued to watch the movie, not reacting at all, as if it was the most natural thing for me to do that, rub my fingers on her lips. She may not have noticed but it was quite arousing for me.

At the top of the hour, as the long set of commercials set it, Mom kissed me on the cheek, stroking my neck on the other side with her fingers and whispered, “So, are you going to tickle my back for me?” I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak.

Mom positioned herself as before, laying on her tummy with her head in my lap facing the TV. I started to run my fingers across her shoulders outside her blouse. After a couple of minutes, still in the commercials, Mom reached back to tug her blouse out of her skirt. Since it was so tight around her waist, she had to undo some kind of snap to loosen her skirt to allow the blouse to come out. She pulled the blouse half way up her back exposing the groove running along its center.

As the movie started again, I slid my hand left hand under the blouse to tickle her shoulders, pulling her shirt higher to make room. I quickly discovered, to my disappointment, that she was wearing a bra. Not a sexy, lacy thing but a normal, thick white thing. Still, I was able to touch her, running my fingers over her warm flesh. I concentrated on giving her a real nice, long back tickle right through the next set of commercials.

When the longer set of commercials started at the bottom of the hour, Mom rose up. Finished already? Oh well, it was nice anyway and I guessed my effort would open the way to another opportunity when she was wearing something sexier.

“Colin?” she asked, “Would you mind changing into your pajamas? Your jeans are hurting my face.” She raised her fingers to her cheek, indicating a red mark where my jeans had been rubbing.

“Oh, sorry Mom.” I ran upstairs to put my pajamas on in record time. On the way back, it occurred to me that she could have just grabbed a pillow. My cock swelled at the thought that she hadn’t availed herself of this simple solution. Why? Then I began to panic as I realized that my erection wouldn’t be so easy to hide in my pajamas. I stopped at the entrance to the living room. Did I have something else to put on? No. She had asked me to put on my pajamas and I’d already changed and was in the room. How could I leave? She was laying there, waiting, the movie already started.

I thought about that time I’d had so much too drink that I barfed outside the pub, trying to get my erection to subside.

“Colin? Come on, the movie’s started,” Mom glanced at me before turning her eyes back to the TV.

I moved in slow motion toward her. I could hear my feet padding on the soft carpet as I walked toward her. She lifted up to let me slip into position and then lay her head on my lap as soon as I sat down. My cock, damn the thing, lurched up as soon as I felt her head hit my thighs. She reached back to flip the blouse up on her back again, indicating that I should continue where I’d left off.

As I slid my hand under her shirt, I noticed that it was looser, very loose, actually. My cock twitched again as I realized that she must have unbuttoned her blouse to give my hands more room. Maybe she would turn on her side again, like she had the night before, allowing me to peek inside her open shirt at her breasts, even if they were covered by her bra.

Looking down at my hands, I noticed that the waist of her skirt was lower too, showing the flesh rising up to her buttocks and the beginning of the crevice between her cheeks. I let my hand stray down to the waistband of her skirt, trailing my fingers along its edge, over one globe and down into the crack and up onto the other.

“Mmmmmm,” Mom sighed.

Twitch, twitch. I made this exciting new trail part of my regular path for the next few minutes. Mom didn’t make any other audible sounds, but I could tell she liked it by the way her skin responded to my touch as I passed over it. I began dipping lower into her waist and rubbing her flesh, dragging my fingertips up over the swell of her hips and onto the border of her buttocks, pressing her flesh. I pulled her blouse up and brought my right hand into action, tickling her upper back and shoulders.

It was a measure of how fascinated I was with running my fingers over the top of her buttocks, dipping into the start of her ass crack, that I must have circled her upper back and shoulders a dozen times before I realized that Mom was no longer wearing a bra. Holy Christ!

Dumbly, I stared at her back, my hands suddenly frozen, the left stuck at the part between her cheeks. Mom wriggled. I jerked into motion again slowly widening the circles of my left hand until my fingers were brushing along the side of her breast. I looked at her for signs of a negative reaction and was surprised to see that her eyes were closed. She wasn’t even watching the movie.

I kept brushing along her breast, slowing my stroke to pull at the soft flesh there, trying to bring more of it out, perhaps subconsciously encouraging her to turn more on her side like the night before so I could touch more of her tit. But she didn’t move. She didn’t object to my fingers spending more time by her breast, or even pulling at it, but she didn’t move to make my access easier.

When the commercials started, and her eyes remained closed, I pulled the blouse up to the top of her shoulders, moving her bent left arm higher to allow it, and laid her shirt tail over her head, covering her face. I waited for a reaction. There was none. My cock twitched. I was getting very hard. The only thing keeping it between my thighs was Mom’s head. She had to feel it, to be aware of how aroused I was.

I moved my left hand to the top of her buttock and let my finger lay in the top of her crack. Nothing. I moved it up to the side of her breast where more of her tit was now available because her arm had been pried away from her body. I let my hand take in all the breast flesh available and then probed further with my fingers, blatantly trying to feel her tit. No reaction. I began to massage her breast, ever pulling on it, trying to get more of it out into my hand.

I wasn’t tickling her back now. This was obvious. I was fondling her breast. I slipped my hand down to her behind again and pushed my fingers into the furrow between her cheeks, under the waistband of her skirt, even pushing it lower, until they were firmly embedded between the fleshy part of her ass, very near her hole. If I could do this, what else?

I pulled on her shoulder with my right hand, lifting her torso toward me. Mom shifted her weight toward me, as she’d done the night before, increasing the access to her breast. The commercials ended at that moment. I pulled the blouse down off her face a bit so Mom could see if she opened her eyes. She didn’t, but she turned her face up in line with her body, allowing my cock to rise from between my thighs. Gently, I pressed her face back against my thighs, and my throbbing cock. She submitted to my pressure. I kept my hand on her cheek for a moment, and she actually turned her face into my thighs, the corner of her mouth grazing my shaft. My cock lengthened in response to the heat of her breath.

Since she hadn’t opened her eyes to watch the movie, I pulled the blouse over to cover her face once more, then gently pressed her against my twitching cock. Her head turned into my thigh, her lips pressing against my swollen, pajama-covered member. Returning my left hand to her breast, I reached further in and enveloped her small tit completely in my hand. I just held it, reveling in the feel of her nipple poking into my palm. I couldn’t help subtly pushing my cock up against her face, against her mouth, feeling it press between her lips.

I didn’t knead her tit. I didn’t squeeze it, or try to pull on her nipple. I just held it. I was afraid to break whatever spell we were under, terrified of ruining this blissful moment. So I just held her wondrous tit in my hand, and pressed my cock against her face. Looking down at her skirt, I reached down to grasp and undo the pin holding the kilt together along her legs. Sliding it out of the material, I pulled it apart to expose her ass, covered now only by her panties, a three inch band stretched across her cheeks. I let my hand lay on her ass and softly brushed my fingers back and forth.

Returning to her breast, I held it until the movie ended fifteen minutes later. Mom let the commercials play out and the next movie start before she stirred. I pulled her blouse down to cover her back and tugged her skirt over her ass. Then she surprised me. She turned completely around to face toward me, on her side but leaning over a little toward her tummy. My cock sprang up when she lifted her head to turn around but when she set her head down in my lap again she pressed it back into place. It was an incredible, silent acknowledgement that she was aware of my excited state.

“Did Dad ever tickle your back until you fell asleep?” I asked her, whispering for some reason.

“No,” she whispered back.

“Would you like me to?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked, confused that she seemed to be settling in with her head laying on my engorged cock but indicating that the ‘tickling’ session was over until tomorrow.

“Yes. Keep tickling me. You’ve been a good boy. A little frisky, but you haven’t gone too far.” She wiggled her body to settle in, and her head as well, which my cock greatly appreciated.

Hadn’t gone too far? She was OK with what I’d done and thought that I hadn’t gone too far? I could feel my cock twitching wildly. What were my limits? Clearly farther, but how much?

Mom’s eyes were closed again. I reached down to pull up her blouse up her back but stopped, instead grasping her sleeve and pulling it off her right arm. Then I pulled the blouse up and draped it over her head. Her whole back and side were now exposed. Her skirt had fallen away from her ass as she had twisted herself around, so her cheeks were clearly open for my appreciation. Looking down, I could see her breast hanging down, completely accessible to me. I began brushing the fingertips of my right hand lightly across her back and reached down to take her tit into my left.

I didn’t just hold her tit this time. As I played my fingers across her back, I gently squeezed and kneaded her tit, pulling on it, letting my fingers slide out to pinch and tug on her nipple. She didn’t object. I could feel and hear her breathing quicken, but that was it. Rather than being terrified of ruining things, I was now intent on finding out how far I could go. But I realized that I couldn’t leap too far, too fast. A jarring, desperate move would surely puncture this magical world.

Periodically, I left her tit and strayed down to fondle her ass. But this time I didn’t just brush my fingers across her ass, I cupped her cheeks, though not roughly, and let my fingers trail up and down her crack, even digging in gently several times. I kept returning to her tit to play with it for longer periods and always, always, I kept tickling her upper back, shoulders, and neck with my right hand.

Eventually, it dawned on me to run my fingers over her tummy, that soft, pouting bulge above the gentle slope leading down to the secret place still covered by her skirt. I played my fingers all around her navel, tickling her tummy along the loosened waistband of her skirt. I wasn’t denied. There was no sound, no tensing muscles, just the quiet sound of her breathing.

Cleverly, when I ran my fingers down to play with her ass, I dragged the waistband of her skirt lower to pull it down in front as well. This worked for a bit but I had to resort to pulling it down on her hips as well, potentially giving away my true intention, but I risked it anyway. Again, no objection. Reaching around to her tummy I was rewarded with greater access, the skirt having pulled down sufficiently far for me to feel the top of her panties. I could see that more of her panties were visible. I could see her mound pressing out. I couldn’t believe that my cock could get even harder, but it did.

Mom’s skirt had now reached the point where it would shift down on its own without having to push it. The barest nudge on the waistband now revealed more of Mom’s panties. Soon the waistband was off her hips, almost down to the juncture of her thighs, revealing her panty covered pussy. I let my fingers ‘tickle’ across the top of her panties for the first time, even though I was convinced that this was my barrier, that this would break the spell, at least for this night.

But still she didn’t object. She did nothing. I was stunned. Cautiously, I stroked my fingers, very lightly, back and forth across her panties, lower and lower, until I was brushing her pussy, strumming my fingers across her puffy lips. Finally, I just stopped and cupped her pussy, dipping my long finger into the cleft along its damp length. Slowly, I pressed my finger into her, and began moving it up and down the tiniest amount, increasing the length of its stroke at a glacial pace. My finger became wet as she, barely noticeable, pushed back, forcing her pussy lips further around my wiggling finger.

Finally, Mom began to make some sounds. Her breathing had quickened to short and rapid, wheezing breaths that matched my own erratic gasps. She was ‘ohhhhing’ and ‘ahhhhing’, though quietly. I increased the tempo of my fingering, in response, not by my own volition. Only a moment later, she tensed up incredibly tight, then went into a long spasm, and finally shuddered to stillness.

I didn’t move. Even my right hand on her back was stilled. My hand still cupped her pussy under her panties, but it didn’t move.

Then, Mom’s head moved back, still covered by her blouse. My rock hard cock popped up through my pajamas. Mom’s head moved forward again. Then, the most awesome thing. My cock was enveloped by Mom’s warm, wet mouth, sliding way in as her head continued moving until I felt my tip hit the back of her mouth. My Mom was sucking my cock! I could hear wet, squishy sounds Back and forth she moved a dozen times until once, when my tip blunted against her, she kept pressing her head forward until I could feel my cock shove further into her mouth, her throat. I was in my Mom’s throat. My Mom was deep throating me!

I shoved my hips up and forward. I couldn’t help it. A pent up geyser was coming. My hips bucked with each spurt. I held Mom’s head with both hands, rocking my cock into her mouth. Even over my own gasps, I could hear her breathing loudly through her nose. I must have instantly manufactured more come at that sound as I squirted several more times after that.

Mom stayed still until I subsided, until I was soft. I pulled her skirt up to her waist and deployed it around to cover her, then pulled her blouse down and pressed it down to cover her chest. Mom looked up at me, then moved herself up to sit facing me. She kissed me three times on my cheek, her hands stroking my face and hair.