Chapter 3

"My nipples, son," a croaky-voiced Stephanie said as she felt her son's hand manipulating her tits as he was kneeling between her legs, in front of the chair she was sitting in. "Touch my nipples with your fingers, please."

Marty let go of his horny mother's tits, which dropped and jiggled back into their own shape, and looked at the reddish brown buds his mother was talking about. They looked as large as the nails on his middle fingers — larger even. The wide areolas were covered with goose bumps.

As he was somewhat aware of his mother's legs on either side of his hips, he reached out with the tips of his index fingers, and carefully laid them on the tip of his mother's nipples. He immediately noticed an intake of breath by his mom the moment the tips of his fingers made contact with the rubbery nubbins. Almost as if they were miniature joysticks, Marty used the tips of his index fingers to move the nipples around in circles, and as a result he felt his mother close her legs and squeeze his hips between them.

Stephanie felt an anxious sensation taking hold of her crotch as a result of the finger-administered teasing of her nipples by her son, and the sensation had forced her to close her legs, taking her son's hips in a vice-like grip. She hadn't had a man between her thighs for a long time, much less a 15-year-old. And this particular 15-year-old that she had locked between her thighs was her own son.

She looked down at the boy, licking her lips, watching him use nothing but the tips of his index fingers to steer her sensitive nipples around like little knobs. She needed some resolve not to groan out loud, and not to demand he stop doing something that sent waves of irritant pleasure through her body; irritant because it made her feel anxious and made her feel like just grabbing her son forcefully and do with him as she pleased. But as if the boy could read her mind, he retracted his fingers from the tips on her tits — which 'flipped' back into their natural position — and started rubbing over her areolas.

Marty moved his fingertips over his mother's bumpy areolas, moving them carefully around the nubbins in the middle. Absent-mindedly he took notice of the goose bumps on the surface of them. It was as if he was trying to discover every single part and feeling of his mother's tits under his touch; exploring them.

It was after this that the 15-year-old looked into his mother's dark eyes — pleading eyes — and suddenly took hold of her large nipples between his fingertips.

"Is this what you wanted, mom? Your nipples between my fingers?" Marty asked his mother, halfway between his still somewhat present shyness and his newly achieved courage.

"Ooohh, yes, baby," Stephanie groaned. "That's what I wanted. Squeeze my fucking nipples. Pinch them; twist them; pull on them. Just play with mommy's fat fucking nipples, son."

And Marty did. Alternating between watching his own playing fingers and the look in his mother's eyes, the teenager fooled around with the stiff tips as if they were little toys. He pinched them carefully, feeling them push back outward against the insides of his fingertips like pieces of rubber. He twisted them, feeling them naturally trying to twist themselves back into their natural state. And he pulled them forward, away from his mother's tits, turning her breasts slightly cone-shaped until he released her nipples and her tits snapped back and once again bounced until they were still.

"Do you want to taste them?" Marty suddenly heard his mother say, with the same croaky voice he heard earlier. He looked up into her eyes and he saw she was smiling sweetly at him. "Do you want to taste your mother's tits, baby? Do you want to suck on my stiff nipples and on my soft tits? Take my fat nipples into your mouth, huh?"

Before Marty - trying to imagine the act - could say yes, his mother had taken hold of her left tit herself, lifted it up to her face, stuck her pink tongue out into a pointed shape, and started licking all around her nipples. The tip of her outstretched tongue licked forcefully into her tit flesh, licking around the bumpy areola, around the stiff, rubbery nipples, and finally across her nipple, making it bend around as it was pushed by the licking force of her tongue. All of this happened as she was simultaneously looking into her son's eyes. The boy could hear the breath coming from her open mouth as he watched his mother's tongue lap at her own tit, lathering it wet with saliva.

Marty watched his mother retract her tongue back into her mouth — as she continued looking into his eyes — and then stretching it back out again. This time the tongue was covered with a thick, foamy layer of white spit, which was then smeared out over her entire nipple — areola included — by the tip of his mother's tongue. When the mother once again retracted her tongue, a thick, slimy thread of spit was spun between her nipple and the tip of her tongue, until it broke when the distance between nipple and tongue became too great.

This whole event took place in a matter of mere seconds, but to Marty it almost seemed like minutes.

Again he heard an intake of breath by his mother when she opened her mouth, right before she clasped her lips around a big chunk of tit flesh, making the areola disappear into her own hungry, sucking mouth. Marty heard the sucking and slurping sounds as if they were right next to his ears, and as mother and son stared straight into each other's eyes, Stephanie was sucking hard on her nipple and making her tongue lash against it as it was inside her mouth. She was sucking her nipple more for her son's pleasure than for her own.