Chapitre 2215: MOMMY MIND FUCK
My mom sleeps like a rock, which is fine because it let me get away with a lot of things growing up. I could dodge parental talks after school (she would come home from work really exhausted). I could watch TV instead of doing my homework. I could sneak in the house after staying out late at night.
As I got older, she added drinking to her routine. It wasn't a lot at first, just enough to forget the day and drift off to sleep; she knew I could cook my own dinner and take care of things without her. I know it sounds like she is a terrible mother, but she is very loving and would spend every waking moment trying to do what was best for me – it is just that sometimes she was too tired to do so.
When I was starting to "just come of age," I started to notice mom's assets. I couldn't stare too much at the girls at school, but I could take a long look at my mom taking a quick nap on the couch.
Mom is a very attractive lady. She has one of those faces that is always smiling. For an older woman with a grown son, she has kept a nice figure. She dresses like she is still in college; attractive, youthful – not slutty and definitely not what the other ladies down the street wear.
One time, the summer after my senior year, mom was lying on the couch with a pretty loose top that got bunched up around her ribs as she was sleeping. The temptation was too great; her shirt was just inches away from exposing her boobs. I figured that with a shirt that loose, I could lift it and take a look without her noticing.
I tried pulling it off, but didn't think it through too well. Her arms were still draped across her clothes, making it difficult to pull up. I had to tug at her shirt very slowly to avoid stirring her and risking exposure.
The hard work was worth it though. Beneath her shirt were those lovely mounds of hers, soft white flesh, dressed in a very lacy bra. The bra was powder blue and just a bit see-through so that I could make out her reddish nipples. I was holding up her shirt and staring for so long that I didn't notice that she was starting to wake.
I escaped to my room and jerked off. Catalogs and men's magazines aside, it was the first time I had seen a real live woman in her underwear; it didn't matter that it was my mother.
It was then that I realized that I hadn't taken any pictures; no fodder for future self-gratification. I cursed my lack of foresight as I might not ever have had the opportunity again.
Fate must have been listening to my prayers, because the next day mom fell asleep with her shirt already pulled up. It was a warm day, she was wearing a casual top and she must have lifted her shirt up to air it out in her sleep. She was holding it bunched up to her bosom. All I had to do was slide the rest of the shirt around the tops of her breasts, which was much easier than lifting up her shirt the previous day.
The bra that she had on wasn't too sexy; anything too frilly would show through under such a light shirt. However the V of the front clasp lifted and pushed her tits together beautifully, her creamy skin overflowing in their cups.
I thought about how I missed out on getting some pictures of her the day before and I ran to get my camera. I came back just in time to see her wake up from her nap, straightening her shirt and looking a little confused as to why her shirt was pulled up.
I was foiled, but now I had the taste of blood in my mouth; I wanted to see more. I spent every waking moment devising ways to coax mom out of her clothes without her noticing. I trained my brain to spot openings in her defenses, places I could lift or pull away her clothes easily. By then, I carried my camera in my pocket any time I was around the house.
Occasionally, I would get caught off guard and I would have to abandon her with her clothes still pulled up. Mom would wake and look at herself quizzically before straightening herself out. At that point, her undressings had a degree of plausibility – skirts shift, shirts ride up, maybe a strap on her tank would fall.
That got me to thinking about what else I could get away with in her fog of sleep. I surveyed my pictures of her on my computer. There were definite favorites in terms of outfits and underwear. Of course, I liked any spaghetti strap tank that she had. Light skirts were flirty and easy to pull up. Surprisingly, jeans were also a favorite; during the day, they would be tight and form fitting, in the evening she would unzip the constricting pants and pull them down slightly as she relaxed on the couch.
Underwear: I liked anything see-through and/or low cut. Mind you, she is an adult mother – so there were no transparent materials or Brazilian cuts. What she did have were lacy sets (that were see-through enough) and thin cotton (so thin that I could make out the shape of her areola). As for the design, she had a decent selection of low cut bras for evening wear and high cut panties for when she wanted to feel womanly.
There was one day where she stayed up the night before, compiling a report, and had to work late the following day. Needless to say, she would be dead on her feet by the time she got home. She has been like this before; there would be nothing waking her until two in the morning. Knowing this in advance, I spent the whole day fantasizing about what I would do with her.
I definitely wanted to dress her in some of my favorite outfits. While she was at work, I picked out what I wanted her to wear – down to her underwear. In the process, I realized that not everything I pulled would go together. I had to make a few practical changes to my selection – the longer skirt matched the sexy tank better, the plain cotton underwear looked better under the outfit than the strappy lace ones.
Mom barely made it to the couch when she got home. I pulled up the blanket over her to speed her on the way to sleep. I waited a full hour before undressing her to make sure she was asleep. I tested the waters by adjusting her arms. I took a heavy hand and plopped them where I wanted them; and I knew she was asleep. She was out and it was time for the fun to begin.
I started with her feet because I felt they were the easiest. I am not much of a foot person, but there was something special about unstrapping her heels and sliding them off her graceful slopes.
The pants were tricky. The clasps were unexpectedly complicated; much different than a boy's pants. Getting her waistband around her hips was another hurdle; I never realized that pants do not just fall off a curvy woman's body.
The shirt was a pleasure to remove. Undoing each button was like opening a new box at Advent until the grand prize presented itself, my mother's ample bosom.
I wanted to jump in and remove her bra right away, but thought it much more rewarding to stop for a picture and savor the moment for then and the future. It was a lovely shot: my mother lying on the couch, in her panties and her shirt open, displaying a soft, white cotton bra.
I had a little fun with the next part. To unhook her back-clasp bra, I lay next to her in the sofa and put my arms around her, pretending to be stripping my wonton date for the evening. I then positioned myself at her feet to pull her panties down towards me.
I was enjoying the ambience of the dark room, but it was time to raise all the lights. I would always treasure the pictures of mom in her underwear, but I did not want anything, like a blurry photo in low light, to mess up my time with mom naked. I took pictures in every manner imaginable: full body shots from above; close ups of everything; up her crotch with her legs spread; turning her over to get her ass (yes, she was really tired).
Next was the pleasurable task of dressing mother. She had this pair of white, ribbon strapped, high leg briefs that I loved. I have never seen her wear them before (I haven't seen her in panties much, I admit) and she had no others even similar to them in her drawer. With it, I matched a white bra with a laced demi-cup; subdued, yet sexy. For her skirt (it had to be a skirt, it was best thing she had in her closet to show off her legs), it was a navy, knee length number with a button side (unbuttoned, of course). I had a revealing tank top picked out for her, but decided the shirt she had on was sexy enough – especially with the front unbuttoned down to under her breasts.
I jacked off heartily that night, both in front of my mom and later that night in my room.
I heard mother wake up at 1:30 in the morning and rushed over to see her. She looked confused at the outfit she was wearing (not what she remembered putting on that morning) and how she was wearing it (what kind of woman goes out with her shirt unbuttoned down to her belly?). Accepting that what she had on must be what she wore that day, she carelessly began to undress in the living room on the way to her bedroom. I was in disbelief that mom would do such a thing where anyone (like me) could see her – I don't care how tired she felt.
I almost laughed out loud when mom noticed the racy underwear she had on. She was really surprised and paused for a moment, making sure that it was what she was seeing.
It was a nice bonus that she removed her bra before hiding herself away in her bedroom. I got to see a little spillover of her breasts from behind. I had already seen (and took pictures of) her boobs head on, but it was still exciting seeing her strip and catching an almost glance of them. Too bad she didn't take off her panties.
Mom was wasted the next morning. She skipped over her usual shower and freshening up to head straight for the refrigerator for some kind of breakfast that didn't require any work. I was still high on my sexy dress up games with her last night.
I handed her the sliced apple I was about to have for myself. The sugar helped drag her brain back to life.
"I don't even remember coming home," she mumbled, trying to piece together the previous evening. "Did you see what I had on? Why would I wear that to a presentation with my task group?"
Then the part of her brain that tries to put order in the world kicked in and she attempted to rationalize what had happened. "Maybe I changed to head out to the pub afterwards – but where's my work outfit?"
"I don't know," I chimed in, "but you looked nice ... really sexy." I flashed her a comical wink.
She gave me an annoyed look for the "sexy" comment, but then smirked at the compliment.
That evening, I was too afraid to try anything with her – having gotten away with so much the night before. The hunger to do more with my sleepy mommy ate at me all night. I had to do something tomorrow.
Wednesdays were always busy for her. I knew that she would be tired when she got home, just not as tired as she would get on an especially bad Monday where she stayed up late the night before. To facilitate her grogginess for then, I spiked her iced tea. She never noticed the taste, and if she did, she enjoyed the buzz too much to care.
That day's ensemble that I would have her wear was a sleeveless dress shirt with a too-short pleated skirt, hiked up even higher. Nylon stockings and simple loafers finished up the piece. Sexy and definitely not something that she would wear to the office, yet not too outrageous to believe that she would not wear it.
I heard her approach my door that night, as if to ask me what she wore that day, but she then just walked away. The next morning, mom put on a pretty conservative outfit.
"What's with the old lady get-up?" I asked.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she said, her brain trying to figure what has been going on the past couple of days, "I wake up groggy because I went to bed too late and I end up dressing like an idiot in the morning."
"I thought you looked hot," I said in return.
Mom was a little annoyed at my remark. "And what's with this 'hot' comment? You don't talk like that about your mother."
"You're the one dressing like that around me," I said defensively, "I'm a guy ... I'm only human."
My argument made her think for a moment.
I composed myself, hoping to salvage the situation and make it work for me. "You looked nice yesterday. A little cleavage, a little leg; isn't a bad thing."
After her angry demeanor, I didn't expect her to smile at my compliment.
She turned back to her bedroom. "I guess I'll put on something nicer – I can make up the time by skipping the coffee shop."
That night was the same routine. I little liquor in her drink and dress up time with pictures afterwards. Mom was getting more confused by the day, but I think she was enjoying her "double" life.
Friday night, I decided to make her my special date for the evening. I selected a "going out" outfit for her to wear and tossed her "at work" clothes in a pile next to the sofa, as if she changed for a night out.
Her underwear was special; the day before, I went out to a sexy boutique and bought her something daring: a very frilly lace "wedding" bra with matching panties. The bra was a push-up shelf type and the panties were high leg bikini with a thong back.
Amongst the pictures I took, I took several with me next to her: holding her breasts or holding my dick out to her. I fondled her as much as I dared and even kissed her a few times.
I was surprised to find her the next morning, not confused at what she woke up to wearing, but looking happy and feeling frisky. She was humming all day and wiggled her hips everywhere she went. Later that evening, I would find that she kept on the same underwear that I had bought for her the day before.
"What's got you so happy, mom?" I asked her.
"I found these really pretty underwear that I forgot I had. They make me feel twenty years younger."
I decided that it was well worth it to continue buying her sexy underwear, but I wanted somebody to help me pay for it. I called up my friend Carl to go to the mall with me. Carl always used to think that my mom was hot; to which my usual response was disgust and a punch in the arm. He was going to enjoy the pictures I would provide him later.
At the mall, I started for the lingerie shop.
"Why are we going here?" he asked. We always giggled like immature children at the sexy mannequins in the shop window as we walked by on the way to the movie theatre or food court, but we never dared go inside.
"I found a girl," I told him smugly, "she just loves dressing sexy for me. If you buy her an outfit for me, I'll have her model it for you."
Another thing I should tell you about Carl: he is a virgin and has never seen a naked girl before. When he scoffed at my story, I responded with the close up shots of my mom (no face) in the sexier lingerie that I had her wear. He counted the money in his pocket and proceeded to look for the sluttiest thing he could find.
I knew I couldn't have my mother wear anything too trashy; she would never believe she owned such a thing. My strategy was that with the amount of money he had, he couldn't buy anything too outrageous. The store that we were at, they did not have anything too scandalous. He selected a thong made of black see-through mesh and paired it with an equally transparent matching camisole that would hang just below the breasts.
It was still the weekend, so it would not seem too unusual that mom might wear something racy for the evening – as long as she had somewhere to go. I needn't have worried, feeling as sexy as I have been making her feel, she had to go out.
She came home later than usual when she has a "night out." She was a little disheveled; she probably met some guy, make out with him, but couldn't bring herself to bring a sexual partner home to her son. Most of all, she was very much wasted. Mom made it to her bed, managed to kick off her shoes and collapse on the spot. Even though she was out like a light, I still waited my customary hour before trying anything with her.
Like I said previously, mom was still wearing the special undies that I had bought for her earlier. It was a shame to change her out of them, but my plans for my mom (however vague they were) had to keep moving forward or they would lose momentum. The black see-throughs was the next slutty step forward.
Another twist I was going to add: I was going to plant pictures of her on her phone, as if she were vainly taking pictures of herself to prove how sexy she was. Carl, an artist when it comes to photo-manipulation, would be helping me with this step. I needed these shots of her passed out to look like she was fully awake.
I had to have Carl's help, not only to fix the pictures before my mom could check her phone the next day, but I needed him to help set her up to look like she was sitting up on her own. Because mom came home so late, it was well past any polite hour to call him.
I texted him.
"Go away, it's late," he replied. I was afraid he wouldn't check his phone at all.
"I need your help. Besides, you are going to like this." I attached a picture, obviously my mom and obviously wearing his lingerie, taken with the crude camera on my crappy phone.
Carl's reply was swift. "OMG what do you want from me? Anything ...."
"Come over now," I instructed, "I will explain when you get here."
He rushed over as fast as he could. He told his parents that I had some kind of emergency and I guess that was a little true. When I asked him if he could help me stage a few pictures and fix them a little he told me that it would be impossible.
"We can't set up a photo session, pose her like she's awake, then export the pictures into your computer, fix them, then import them back to her phone – all before morning ... impossible, it's practically morning already."
I knew that there had to be some way of doing it and I knew that Carl would be very motivated to do it ... I just needed to find the right way of asking. I looked down at my mom; passed out and wearing a sheer top and panties. He looked down with me.
"I know we can make her into our sex slut," I told him.
Carl just raised his eyebrow in disbelief.
I sat next to mom and lifted her up, my arms around her and squeezing her tits under the cami. As if on cue, mom stirred, eliciting a slight moan from her lips. I knew that it was just a sleepy-time moan, but it sounded enough like a moan of pleasure to fan his fire. I could see him thinking about how he could make it happen.
I helped convince him. "She only got home an hour ago, so she will be out until at least mid-morning – that gives us plenty of time. The camera on her phone is pretty low-res, so covering up your alterations would be a snap."
"And she would only be looking at it on a three inch screen," he added, "so the fixes wouldn't even need to be that good."
I had him on board; he was working with me on a solution. We decided that we only had time to work on three pictures in the time we had; looking in her phone over the real pictures she took of herself in the past, three or four were about right.
The next couple of hours were spent setting up and deciding on the proper poses for her. I held her up, my hands and arms as much out of the frame as possible. Carl took the pictures, measuring his arms length to her to make it as true to the set up as possible. He also made them slightly askew, to look more like a picture taken without someone behind the lens.
Carl slaved over fixing the pictures. It took him much longer than expected to find awake eyes from other pictures of my mom that would match orientation, attitude and make-up of the sleeping eyes we had in the pictures.
Mom woke up earlier than expected, ten o'clock. Carl was finishing up covering up his fixes. I dressed into some night clothes and met her in her room to run interference."Wow, you were out late," I tried to distract her.
Mom was busy looking for her phone that Carl still had in my room. When she noticed me, she modestly put a robe on to cover up what she was wearing.
"Have you always had that nightie? You look fantastic."
Mom stopped and smiled at my comment. I think that the sexy dress ups were helping her feel more womanly and she liked that. Surprisingly, she opened up her robe to let me have a look.
I tried not to look too lustful for my mom.
"This is nice, isn't it? I don't even remember buying it," she said looking at her outfit quizzically.
I couldn't help but open my big mouth. "And your boobs are incredible." Side note: sons hoping to make it with their moms should not make sexy comments to them – it definitely would scare them off.
I was lucky. Mom was already feeling a little naughty from seeing herself dressed so sexy. She gave them a squeeze and said modestly, "I guess they have held up pretty well for a girl my age."
"Let's eat," I said, glad she didn't take my comment badly and hoping to further distract her, "I'm starving. You can wear that to breakfast if you like." I hoped against hope.
She wore the cami to breakfast, albeit with her robe partially covering her. I worked on making breakfast for the two of us, although I was severely distracted by hanging mom boobs two yards away.
Almost at the end of breakfast, Carl texted me, saying that he was done and the new pictures were back on her phone. I excused myself to mom.
"Hide the phone in her room somewhere," I texted back, "Like on the floor, by the bed."
"I guess I will hide in your room until she's gone – Carl"
Mom was curious. "Who was calling this early in the morning on the weekend?" she asked.
"It was Carl, he wanted to hang out. I told him that I wanted to go out and spend some time with my mother." I spread it on thick.
Mom looked at me sweetly and smiled.
We both got dressed for a walk down to the park while Carl let himself out and locked up. Mom put on some very tight capris and a short spaghetti-strapped cami-top (!) that revealed just an inch or so of her tummy. During the course of the day, I saw that she was wearing the thong that I bought for her (the whale tail poking just past the waistband of her pants) and that she couldn't be wearing anything for a bra under her top (her nipples stuck out too much and her tits swayed much more than normal). Perhaps I should emphasize to you that this was two steps away from normal for her.
The walk was just long enough that she wanted to take a nap when we got home. Not expecting her to go down so soon, I tried to frantically sell her on some spiked juice. I didn't want to miss a single opportunity to play with mom's body.
She passed out easily enough, but didn't fall as soundly as I hoped. What I wanted to accomplish next, I decided, was to have her seem like she juiced in her panties. Afraid to pull such tight pants off her, I tried instead to rub her pussy outside her pants.
I tentatively reached for her snatch and pressed my fingers into her, rubbing in gentle circles. I was relieved to discover that, when my mother gets aroused, her body relaxes instead of tensing up. Massaging her clit was only helping her fall asleep more. I didn't know when would be the right time to stop, but a deep, throaty moan told me when.
If all went well, she would have a strong heady smell in her panties for when she would change out of them later on. This would have the hopeful effect of making her think that she likes to feel sexy all the time and maybe it is possible to be sexy with her son around.
Circumstances went better than I had planned: that night mom lay in bed in a nightgown with the hem pulled up and her exposed pussy airing out. I nearly popped a gasket when I went to go peek in her room and saw mom's bush in full view; her panties bunched up in her hand.
This was perfect for the plan that was bouncing around in my brain all day. At the mall, there was a sale on panties if you bought a lot. I saw many attractive pairs and I thought that I might as well buy them all at once. My new plan would be to use the bulk of them right then. If my mom was a horny bitch (or so I was making her believe) she should have a whole hamper of pussy stained panties. I set to fill out her past week that she didn't know she had.
I replayed the last week in my head. Three stained panties would make sense: today's plus two more. I selected two pairs and turned them inside out to rub into her pussy. My cock was ready to burst; my fingers rubbing around in mom's cunt, with only a thin veil of cotton between them. The gusset got wetter and wetter, my dick was about to explode and I had two more to do.
Once done, I replaced the panties in her hand for a new (yet soiled) pair and buried the other two in her clothes hamper, the bridal one a little deeper to reflect when she first wore it. I took several other new pairs and folded them like mom does and peppered them throughout her panty drawer to make them look like part of her regular assortment.
The only part of my plan that wasn't advancing was the self-taken pictures in her camera. I needed something for tonight. I texted Carl to come over and I thought about what we were going to have mom do.
"You're sick," Carl said, legitimately disgusted, "She's your mother."
I had laid out my plan to have mom seemingly sneak pictures of me undressing. Carl didn't like the incestuous undertones.
"Mom is going to fuck somebody before the week is through and you are going to have a front row seat. I don't want it to be some stranger fucking her and I am the only one available for the job. It's already begun; mom's been getting really frisky around me lately." I practiced this rationale in my head. I was not even sure that I wanted it to go this way.
"At least we won't have to fix the pictures ... it'll be quick," he conceded. "This is really gay. I don't want to take any naked pictures of my best friend."
"Go into the other room and look at that pussy – that is what we are doing this for," I reminded him.
We changed the clock on her camera (we couldn't change the clock on her phone) to make it seem like she has been taking pictures throughout the day and took several pictures of me in and out of my clothes: A shot of my ass while I was bending over; a shirtless shot where I was pretending to look for something; me undressing for the shower; a naked ass shot of me walking from the shower; and the coup-de-grace, a shot of me in bed, asleep, with my pants pulled down by somebody (supposedly mom).
Carl was really disturbed, taking naked pictures of his best friend for his best friend's mother, but he persevered. We printed the pictures out on our snapshot printer and took them to mom's nightstand. What we found in her drawer was a new surprise: mom had a vibrator.
Children never think of their parents as being sexual. Although a sexual sub-persona was what I had been cultivating in my mother for the past week, I never thought about my mom's own sexuality. I didn't know how long she had it, but I told myself that she bought it recently.
I crunched the pictures in my palm to look like mom was masturbating to them with one hand and put them under the vibrator. I left the drawer open a bit to draw attention to it.
I woke up early and heard the hum of mom's vibrator coming from her room. I debated whether to barge in on her, as I knew what she was masturbating to. I decided instead to use this information to build the sexual tension even more.
A lot of outrageous scenarios went through my head and I decided that, given the circumstances, a porn movie set-up might just work. I put on some loose shorts and waited for her to finish in her room. I found her eating breakfast in the kitchen.
"Mom, I'm a little embarrassed," I began.
She tried to look as motherly as possible. "You can tell me, honey."
"There's something wrong with my penis." I was nervous as hell; the scenario was too contrived and I was being too forward.
Mom was startled. Maybe she thought her fantasies were starting to take over her waking life. She paused.
I didn't want to give mom the chance to weasel out of the situation, so I took the next step and pulled down my pajamas right in front of her face. She held out her hands tentatively and proceeded to examine my cock.
"I don't see anything," she said, straight-faced.
My dick was beginning to harden. I wasn't sure how to play out the situation, but before I could do anything, mom let it go like a hot potato. She was more embarrassed than I.
"Maybe we'll go to the doctor's," she said with a little discomfort in her voice.
I gave her a non-committal "maybe" and left the kitchen, not sure how well my plan was working. I checked her drawer after she left for work and found the vibrator and the pictures missing – perhaps to relieve herself at the office from what was building over the past few days.
Mom was ripe for the picking and I knew that the next step had to be extreme in order for us to pluck her.
"Carl, tonight I am going to make out with mom."
Carl nearly choked. "Gross, you can't do that."
"I have to; this is the next step to making her completely mine. Be ready for my call tonight. If you ever lose your resolve, take a look at the pictures of my mom I gave you."
The evening went much more smoothly than I had anticipated. Mom came home a little later than usual; she obviously looked like she was drinking. She skipped dinner and went straight to bed to pass out. The moral weight on her must have had its toll.
I called Carl over. The pictures were easy. Shots of her head were obscured by my own, kissing her. Other times, we avoided her head altogether. We were usually in a tight embrace, so posing was a non-issue.
We made it look like mom had seduced me; her on the bed, removing my clothes. Her own clothes came off, one by one. Some of the pictures she supposedly took (Carl's hand holding up her arm, of course) others were by my hand, like lovers taking mutual interest. We had pictures of her hand in my pants, my hands in her blouse, lots of kissing and a few just of my dick.
I was a little nervous about the simulated sex scenes, but we were going to be gentle about it; it would only look like rough sex. The first sex shot was her rolled on top of me; I held the camera out and gave a look like I had just scored. Next, I climbed on between her legs and hid my cock under her snatch to look like I was penetrating her; my rationale was that she might wake up, but I was really too scared to actually fuck my mother. If she indeed woke up, it would only play into the scenario of her half-dream life where she lusted for her son.
When we were done, we dropped the camera by her in the bed, where she was sure to notice it.
The next morning, I decided to let her come to me. She didn't disappoint.
"Hon," she said knocking at my door, "what happed last night?" She let herself in.
I tried to look surprised, as if she came on to me for the first time. "Wow, it was incredible ... I never thought ...." I trailed off, trying to be obvious and vague at the same time.
"My brain's a little foggy," she said confused, "did we do something?"
"You don't remember?" I said, still sounding surprised, "You came home, drunk and totally came on to me. At first I thought that it was just the liquor talking, but you were like a tiger." I let my enthusiasm show through, hopefully making it contagious.
She looked weirded out.
"I thought it was weird too," I put her to rest, "but what you were wearing and what you were doing to me ... that was hot. You were really getting into it."
The conversation was allowing her too much time to think about her feelings and morals. I acted quickly. I stood from my bed and embraced her like lovers would the morning after. Our lips met and I felt her resist.
I groped her in all the sensitive areas to soften her resolve. I opened her robe to find that she hadn't dressed at all from the night before – she was still completely naked. Her face turned red, like she never intended to expose herself to me, yet she believed we had sex the night before.
She broke away and ran off. I let her go.
I didn't see her much for the rest of the day. She came home from work late (not drunk) and immediately went to her room. I decided not to pursue – I tried for the big one and I failed.
I was really depressed. For the next few hours I tortured myself, wondering what I could have done different. In the end, all I wanted was my loving mother back ... the sex was extra. I waited for mom to come out of hiding and was disappointed; she didn't even come out to eat. I went to bed, almost in tears.
I woke a little past eleven to the sound of mom knocking at my door.
"Hon, could you come to my room for a bit?"
I got up and found her waiting for me in her room on the side of her bed. I sat down next to her.
"Last night," she began, not sure what to say, "how was it?"
My heart calmed, I was relieved that she was beginning to believe the situation that was set up for her. "You were great," I said, at a loss for words.
Mom parted her robe, revealing that fantastic body of hers: full, round breasts that hung just a little; a curvy figure; meaty legs that hid that precious patch of fur between them.
She looked up at me with bedroom eyes. "I don't remember much, I was hoping you could refresh my memory ...."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone