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My Fingers in her Skirt


Strangely, this starts to turn me on. I don't know why she's doing this but she's doing it for a purpose so I start to enjoy it, start to take it as a bit of a challenge. I'm looking at her when I undo her skirt and pull it off; I'm looking at her when I put my fingers on the hem of her sweater and ease it upwards; she leans forward and lets me pull it over her head, switching hands with the phone as I do so, and she leans forward, still in conversation, to allow me to undo her bra, which I don't yet remove.

And there she is, my mother, in bra and panties, lying on her bed with a phone in her ear and a mischievous smile on her face. She is wet when my fingers go back to her panties and when I did her fingers slid under her open bra to her nipple. She looks amazing and I bend down and kiss her stomach, pushing my face into it, feeling her heat. Then I drag my face down and kiss at the wet spot where my fingers have been and I feel her jump. Then I hear her say, "Ooops, someone's at my door, Susan, I'll call you back later." When she hangs up she's laughing.

I look up at her, not really knowing if she's taking me seriously or not. "What are you doing to me?"

"Hey, frisky fingers, give us a break. I needed a little support, OK? I mean, in case you haven't noticed, this is a little out there?"

I kiss her on the panties again and smile up at her. "Do you want to call her back?"

She pulls me up and kisses me, "No, I don't need her now. The hardest part is over."

I put her hand on my penis, stick with pre-cum. "The hardest part sure as hell isn't over for me." I laugh.

She laughs, too, and says, still holding me, "Do you want it to be?"

I pull her hand away, "God, no, not yet." I take off her bra and she lifts her bum from the bed so I can ease off her panties and we're naked together and for me it feels great and it sure looks like she feels great, too. Then she reaches over and opens the drawer in her night table, fishes around a bit and comes out with a condom. "I keep a few of these around, just in case a miracle happens." Then she smiles and adds, "I guess it's happening."

She sits up, tears the top of the package and then sits beside me, taking my stiff penis in her hand. "Ready?" she says, as she bends down and kisses my penis.

"Ready?" I was just seconds away, "Oh, God, yes, quick mum, please, stroke it!" And when she does I shoot a great stream of sperm onto her right breast — and then I damn near faint. But I knew I haven't because I can feel her fingers gently massaging my balls and I can feel her hot breath on my cheek.

"A good one?" She smiles at me, her eyes often twinkle when she's excited.

"Oh, God mum," when I pull her into me, I can feel the wetness on her breast and I slide off the bed to get a clothe.

I sit on the bed as I daub at her breast, "Boy, they're beautiful mum, really nice." Even to a novice like me they seemed pretty much like the standard breasts, with nice aureolas and hard nipples, but what make them exceptional is who they're attached to. She looks unbelievably sexy: she has a nice body, sure but it's the careless, open, uninhibited way she lies there that makes her so unbelievably appealing. Somehow, I feel proud of her, an odd reaction, but that's how I feel.

Before I lie back down I wipe my now hard prick with the clothe then I put my knees between her legs and lie on her as gently as i can. "Just give me a moment, mum. I just want to think about how much I love you."

She is rubbing my back, "For that, turtle ears, you can take all the time you want."

I ease up so my penis pushes into her crotch, "How are you feeling?"

She kisses me, "You're making me feel great."

I knew what she means. "That's exactly how I feel, too, mum. You're making me feel great." When I rise up to kiss her I feel me enter her, so she gently pushes me away, "We'd better wrap the little rascal, ah. Don't want my son giving me a son, now do we."

I roll off her and she sits beside me and strokes my stomach, "You look like your father, Johnny, everything about you, from the tip of your schnozola to the tip of your Johnson." Then she sounds a little disappointed, "I can't see any of me in you at all."

This might be true on the outside, but it sure isn't true on the inside. I've always been her son first. "You could if you were a brain surgeon."

She bends down and kisses me, "Ya, that's true, isn't it. Our minds are a lot alike, our personalities, too."

I laugh and press my face into her hip, "That might explain why we're here, naked on your bed together."

She smiles and lifts my penis, "Ready?"

"I hope so."

She gently rolls it on, careful not to pinch any hair, then she lies on her back, opens her legs and says, "Now, if I remember right that goes in here."

When I enter her I know this will be the one great moment of my life. It isn't the sex. It is her eyes, there is just so much love in them — that's what I will remember, and her words, "Rest in me Johnny, just rest in me and let me hold you." I do, and she holds me while I kiss her, neither of us moving, just lying still, kissing gently, tenderly and I feel myself building, building with each of her barely audible moans and then I can feel her arms tighten around me and she seems to rise up as she pushes into me with all her strength and when her voice breaks, and the sounds flood into my ear, I feel myself erupt inside her, in the very centre of my mother's body, next to the womb where I had come from.

Joy, that's what I feel, a joy that almost makes me laugh. I have connected with my mother in the most intimate, primordial way and it seems ... important, as if the act has validated our love. I can't conceive of how it could be wrong.

After a minute or so, I pull out of her, remove the condom and lie down beside her and gently stroke her breast.

She looks at me, "Could a mother love her son any more?" she asks, as she kisses me in my eye. "I feel like a teenager again ..."

Then the phone rings again, it's always ringing, people are always trying to connect with my mother. As she answers it I reach up, grab a pillow, put it beside her and lie my head on it and when I take her breast in my mouth she turns into me and runs her fingers deep into my hair while I suckle her and stroke her belly.

When she laughs into the receiver I can feel her stiff nipple dance in my mouth, I can feel my mother's nipple dance against my lips and I feel an ache, from the absolute love I feel for her, and that I can never be my father.

Posted : 27/04/2011 12:54 pm