Chapter 99: Mom’s worry 4
I stepped through the dining room's swinging glass doors and into the sun, the rays of light warming my skin on contact. No shirt covered my upper body, but a white towel hung over my left shoulder, and a pair of colorful boardshorts circled my waist. I had chosen the shorts that Jenna had bought me. They hung low enough on my hips that if I hadn't trimmed my pubic hairs, more than a few curls would have poked out over the waistband. Mom didn't like them--not when Jenna was around, and Jenna's fingers had a tendency to glide across my skin, but maybe that would change now that we were alone. If Mom could show off, then why couldn't I? (It had taken some effort to pull those shorts from their drawer and slide them up my legs.)
Next to the pool, opposite the granite wall, there was a row of white-cushioned lounge chairs and small glass tables. That's where I found Mom. She lay on her back, with a white tennis visor on her head and sunglasses over her eyes. Her skin didn't shine with lotion, and my heartbeat did a double-thump as soon as I saw that. She wore a small, red bikini top over her breasts, the kind made of strings that wrapped around her back and hooked over her shoulders, around her neck. The cups were half-moons that cut an angle across her breasts, covering her nipples but leaving the inner swells and the sides of her tits exposed.
I wanted to whistle. I had never seen my mother wear a top that exposed so much of her tit-flesh, and yet, I had to hide a sigh. I don't know why I had thought that Mom would have worn less, but I had hoped. Did she think a bikini would keep me from running off to Jenna after her teasing today? And as if she wanted me to run off to Jenna, around her waist, she was wearing a mid-thigh length, white, semi-transparent wraparound skirt. A skirt? Damn it!
"It took you long enough to get down here," Mom said. "I was about to go inside after you."
"Ah, well," I said and shrugged. "I was just picking out my suit."
"I see," Mom said. Behind her glasses, I couldn't tell where her eyes had fallen on my body.
I walked over to her and dropped my towel on the chair next to hers. I was about to sit down when she said, "How about a quick dip?"
"Sure," I said as the hairs on my body reached skyward.
Mom removed her visor and stood, her butt toward me, and through the transparent mesh of her skirt, I caught glimpses of her cheeks and thighs. Before I could decipher whether she was wearing a G-string or a thong, she unwrapped her skirt, revealing a thick red thong running through the crack of her small, golden, and pear-shaped ass.
God damn it, but my father was a lucky man.
"No tan lines," I whispered aloud as though my mother wasn't four feet from me.
"No," Mom laughed. "No tan lines." She turned around. "So, do you like my new bikini?"
Oh, dear lord, yes--yes, I did.
The thong riding my mother's crack swept outward at her lower back, just above her cheeks, leaving them bare. The strings were maybe a quarter-inch thick, biting into her skin a tad, giving her slenderness a faint bulge above and below her waistline. In front, they swept down the cut of her hips to the V of her crotch, where they connected to a red, triangular patch of cloth that didn't quite cover my mother's vanilla pie. A quarter-inch of labia lay exposed to the elements. I could see the impressions of what had to be a fluffy landing strip pushing against the front of her nylon panties--panties that rode so low on her mound that I could see several wispy, flaxen hairs poking above the nylon.
My cock thickened, the head expanding at a slow rate--slow enough that the stretching of my glans exploded through my nerve endings.
"Mark?" Mom asked.
I raised my eyes, devouring her long body and her apple-sized breasts, whose just-over-a-handful size looked smaller than they were due to her height. Her nipples stood out straight and hard, stretching the nylon fibers forward and sideways, threatening to rip the threads apart. When I reached my mother's face, I saw swirls of pink in her cheeks, but her sunglasses hid her eyes. An almost-smile ghosted the corners of her full lips.
"My bikini?" Mom asked.
"It's breathtaking," I whispered.
"Thanks." Mom's smile widened. "I'm glad you like it. I've bought more, too, for the rest of the summer." She breathed in, shivering, and then out, the sound trembling in the air. "And if things go well, maybe you can help me pick out more?"
I nodded my head.
Mom lifted her left hand to her glasses, took the temple piece between her thumb and forefinger, and slid them from her face. There was a smile in her green eyes and something else that I could only call a victory. She tossed her glasses on her lounge chair and turned away, walking toward the pool with her butt cheeks rolling and her long legs slipping one in front of the other with each step. As I drooled over her ass, my eyes caught the heart-shaped gap at the top of her thighs and the tender bulge of her soft pussy meat as it created a hanging crescent in the gusset of her panties.
Oh my god! My cock sprang up so fast, and my balls tightened so hard that I had to clench my teeth to bite back my groan. Mom reached the edge of the pool and dove forward, as graceful as the swan she was. As her steepled hands parted the water, I raced forward and dove in as well. The water coating my body was a crystalline blanket of freshness. I made sure to rise above the water at a depth that kept my waistline and erection hidden beneath the swaying water's surface.
Let Mom see, my cock yelled at me. Let her fucking see what she does to us!
Maybe later, I mumbled to my perked-up soldier.
Mom came out of the water after I did, having swum to the opposite edge of the pool. Her head erupted through the water's surface, her hair whipping up and back and flinging globs of liquid through the air. She turned around, running her hand over her face as the water painted her nylon bra to her tits and more ran down her stomach and hips and back into the pool.
"That feels good," Mom said. "Race you to the end!"
Mom dove to her left, elongating her body as she started a sidestroke. I watched her for a moment, my eyes freezing to the gap between her thighs and the tight roll of nylon hammocking her muff. She had so much pussy meat for such a slender woman--so it looked in the water. My cock jerked, the head trying to rip through my shorts, creating a jolt of pleasure that ran along my shaft. Moaning, I followed my mother's body through the pool, wishing that I had worn a pair of goggles so that I could better appreciate the light glinting off my mother's body through the thickness of the oscillating water.
She touched the back wall and broke through the surface. I followed. She shook her head, made a wuh sound, and swam away from me. Once again, I watched her slip through the water, my eyes finding her thong as it cupped her crack, and then her gusset as it cradled her wet pussy. Jesus Christ, but Mom had to know that I wasn't going to just beat off after this when I had Jenna offering her juicy clam to me.
I followed Mom back to the shallow end of the pool, my dick swinging in my shorts. Every kick of my feet and twist of my body sent a buzz through my cock. My dick wanted pussy. My mind wanted pussy. Fuck, my soul wanted pussy, and it wanted it right then.
"I think it's time for some sun," Mom said, standing in the shallow end with the water lapping around her thighs. I didn't hide my gaze this time, looking down her dripping wet body and focusing on the triangle of cloth that left the softness of her outer labia uncovered. "Don't you?"
"In a second," I said, hidden up to my waist beneath the water's surface. "I just"--my heart thumped, creating a hollow boom within my chest that I was aware of but too excited to feel--"want to watch you get out of the pool."
Mom's eyes widened, and she seemed a little taken aback, but then she smiled with a kind of gotcha quality to her lips. She turned around and walked toward the steps, her ass and thigh gap holding my cock's attention. I just wanted to be between her thighs.
Eighteen-year-olds weren't meant to be virgins, not when women--adult, fucking women--who shined like my mother were teasing them.
Mom walked around the front of the pool, her body dripping and her hair plastered to her body, its light, bright color at odds with her golden skin. I loved it. The sides of her almost-little tits jiggled, bouncing just enough to make my blood pump. Her body was the picture of classically toned slenderness not influenced by today's Instagram-fit girls or the pre-woke, skinny-girl chic, runway models, and it made every nerve ending through my flesh buzz with adrenaline.
Mom grabbed her towel, drying herself off with long sweeps of the terry cloth. She dried her arms and legs with pushing motions, turning her body so that whatever side she was drying was turned away from me, giving my eyes the freedom to roam over her skin without shame. Mom finished, put on her sunglasses and visor, threading her hair through its headband, and she sat down on her lounge chair. She lay down as the sun beat down on her. She lay with her legs slightly spread and her bikini panties cupping the tender folds between her legs. I could see the faintest impression of them, and I oh-so-badly wanted to touch them.
I walked to the edge of the pool--staring. After a minute of this, when Mom spread her legs further apart, I pressed my cock against the side of the pool, nearly coming. I wasn't about to hump the wall, but I wanted to. Instead, I bent my knees and dropped beneath the water, placing my hands on the lege and pushing myself underwater. I held my breath until a fire burned within my lungs and my throat convulsed--my heart speeding up for another reason. I did this until my erection softened enough not to hurt when I walked, and then I sprang out of the pool, no longer thinking about what I was doing as I walked to my lounge chair.
My towel found its way into my hands, and I dried myself off, taking my time as I stared down at my mother. Was she looking up at me through her sunglasses? She had the hint of a smile on her lips, and her breathing was far from mellow. Her slim stomach rolled downward and up, her breasts rising and falling with them, her nipples reaching heavenward with unashamed stiffness. Could she feel my eyes on her--even if she wasn't looking at me?
"Pass me my tanning oil," Mom whispered. "I think I could use just a bit more color, don't you?"
"Sure," I said, bending over and picking up the bottle of oil.
Mom didn't need more color. She had perfect skin, from its flawless complexion to the sun-cooked gold of her tan, but who was I to argue?
"Mom," I said, my voice shaking, "I can put it on for you."
Mom's smile straightened, and I saw her swallow as time slowed. The movement of her throat seemed exaggerated, and it cascaded down her breast, her stomach lowering and rising as well.
"That's okay," Mom said. "I can do it. Why don't you sit down and enjoy yourself."
I licked my lips and said, "I think I'm going to go see Jenna," in a quiet, almost guilty tone.
Time stopped.
I heard the wind and the static-like rustle of leaves blowing in the breeze. The sun moved, its rays growing hotter as it curved through the air, and then a chill hit me, and I shivered despite the heat.
"Okay," Mom whispered.
Okay, what?
"Okay, what?" I asked in a whisper of breath.
"Okay, you can put the oil on me," Mom said in a tone that matched mine. "My back first."
My shorts moved outward as my cock grew, and Mom's chin tilted down, her eyes staring a straight line toward my growing bulge. She froze for a moment, her breathing heavy, and then she rolled to her right, away from my cock, and turned onto her stomach. She turned her head away from me, crossing her arms beneath her cheek, and she laid her head across her small forearms.
I swallowed as my heart punched the underside of my chest hard enough to make my throat hurt. The world brightened, and I sat on the edge of Mom's chair as my vision swooned, moving left-to-right and left again, like a pendulum. I shivered again, and then I took a deep breath that sounded extra loud to my ears. I released it, then took another, and released that in a tunnel of wind through my lips.
"Are you okay?" Mom asked.
"Yeah," I said as my prick hardened fully. "I'm fine."
"Okay," Mom whispered.
The cap to the oil was one of those push-down on one side and spring-up on the other kind, and I depressed it with my thumb and then held the bottle over my mother's back. My eyes stared at the strings of her bikini bra, and I asked, "No tan lines, right Mom?" in a faraway voice.
Mom took a deep breath.
"Mom," I said with enough urgency in my voice to make my suggestion sound like a demand.
"Untie my bra for me," Mom said, "and drop the strings to the sides." The sides, where I could already see the bottom flesh of her breasts, bulging outward as her upper body pushed their roundness into her cushioned chair.
I reached down with my hand, fingers extended, the tips trembling, and I plucked one of the strings of her bra's bow on the first try. I pulled, watching as the string slid through the knot, and the bow shrank and shrank, snapping free and leaving a simple crossover knot. Pulling the string to the side and giving it a shake to loosen it from its partner, I tossed it to the side, and then I grabbed the other string, dropping it to Mom's left side, undressing her back. As the strings landed on the cushions, the cups of Mom's bra fell away, baring the side of her tits to my eyes. My cock jumped, and I pulled my hips back, trying to find room within my shorts for my aching erection.
There was no room.
Tilting the bottle of oil, I let a stream of the thick liquid spill from the cap's nozzle. The sunlight caught its burnished gold color, making it sparkle--reminding me of that album cover in my grandmother's collection where honey drops from the comb. The end bulb struck the center of Mom's back. Her spine moved as she reacted to the oil's touch, and I watched as a pool formed over her skin, then slipped to the side in thin rivulets of liquid sex.
Sex.
I placed the bottle to the side, freeing my hands, and extended my fingers, bringing the tips down to my mother's back. They shook until they touched her skin and moved upward, my digits spreading as far apart as they could as I stroked my mother's skin. My adrenaline spiked, starting in my heart and radiating outward, finding the pathways through my shoulders and arms and down into my hands, where the energy passed through me and into my mother.
"Mm," Mom moaned, but it sounded like a low, muffled groan that she had tried to hold back. Her mouth never opened, and the sound was low and faint, but it was there. My heart raced, and I pushed harder into her skin, trying to get her to moan again. She didn't, but her lips twitched as I increased the pressure across her smooth skin.
I reached Mom's neck, pushing my fingers into the slope running down to her shoulders. My mother had a firm body, but not too firm, her muscles lying beneath a single layer of feminine softness, giving her body all the hints of having curves while still appearing thin. She had a showgirl's body, a runner's body, a dancer's--the kind of body that deserved admiration, coupled with a beauty that could turn a strong man weak or a hard man soft.
All this from just touching her, I thought.
I had never touched my mother before. Not like this. A hug, a kiss on the cheek, a tug on her arm or hand, but I had never stroked her in such a familiar way. There was no other way to rub oil on a person, whether they were a friend, a girlfriend, your mother, or a client at a spa. This was as intimate as two people could physically become, outside of sex.
Sex.
I ran my hands down my mother's shoulders and over her arms, straightening each of her arms one at a time and having to tug the first one loose before she gave it up. I ran my hand down her arm, over her small bicep and forearm, my long fingers circling her limb completely. I reached her fingers, and I covered them with oil as well, taking time to stroke each one of her digits before making my way back to her shoulders, where I rowed my thumbs over her skin, warmed by the sun--and, I hoped, by me.
The more I touched my mother, the harder she breathed and the calmer I grew. I stayed hard, and my excitement rushed through me, pushing through my veins in thick pulses of light, but I remained calm.
What was my mother feeling?
I lowered my hands down her back with my thumbs meeting along her spine. Her skin moved before my fingertips as I fanned them outward, turning them sideways so that they faced my mother's ribs and the sides of her breasts. Oil glistened in the light, and the velvet texture of her flesh sent ripples of desire through my arms. My cock swelled, and out poured a hefty glob of precum that would have given me a thick droplet of dewy goo to add to the oil covering her back.
If only I could rub my precum on her....
If only I could.
What a terrible, horrible, and thrilling thought. And like that, I had begun to free myself of every reservation that I had concerning how far I was willing to push my mother in her game of tease with me.
Freeing myself--that final moment that pushed me across the line that Mom had drawn--didn't mean that I was without fear or anxiety. It took an effort to push my hands outward, the tips pointing left and right, and then curling over Mom's slick back toward the outer bulges of her breasts. Mom tensed as my fingers slid down her ribs, straight down toward the cushion, not backward toward her hips. Straight down, to her titties, almost reaching them, almost there, almost touching their softness until--
"Mark," Mom said in a whispered rush, "your hands are slipping in the oil."
They aren't slipping, Mom.
I swallowed to regain my composure. My cock ached and twitched, and after a pause, I moved my hands down her ribs to her sides. Touching her like this made her seem small. Her great Motherhood shrunken down to a normal woman, a sexy woman, who was letting me touch her in ways that she never had before. My cock jerked again, spitting up more precum, and I released a shaky breath as I moved my hands over her sides to the small of her back.
My thumbs pressed into my mother's spin, then rowed up and around, and I opened and closed my fingertips. This was no casual massage that I was giving my mother. I caressed her, opening my fingers wide and gliding my palms over her skin, watching as her flesh moved before my fingertips in a wave of visual stimulation.
What was my mother feeling?
Her breathing had deepened. She lay still, mostly, with her lips tight and her eyes unreadable behind her sunglasses. I moved my hands lower, then higher, then lower, nearing the quarter-inch-thick waistband of her thong bikini. Closer and closer and closer....
"Mark," Mom snapped when my oil-slick hands moved over her thong's waistband and right on her ass.
"I have to get all of you," I said, my voice heavy and low, the sound of my breathing exciting me in its perversion.
Did it excite my mother?
Her breathing had deepened.
"Jenna," I said as I pressed my palms into my mother's small, soft ass. Soft on the outside, firm on the inside, yet not as firm as a teenager's ass. That contrast between young tightness and mature firmness sent a sensual heat through my body that made the world spin. "Jenna lets me do this whenever I want."
Mom hissed.
I curled my fingers down her butt, then opened them, my thumbs riding the edges of her shallow crack and grazing the line of the thong running between her cheeks. I didn't try to go under her thong, but I wanted to. Fuck, I wanted to, and my cock, dripping precum, was more than enough proof of my desire for my mother.
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