Capítulo 186: Mom Spreads Her Legs
SimonDoom©
Jill Mulvaney loved to spread her legs open.
As a teen, many years earlier, Jill competed in gymnastics. Her body was lean and limber. She learned the thrill of pushing her body to its utmost. When she stretched and pushed her limbs as far as they could go, Jill felt most in sync with her deep animal core. That connection always gave her joy.
Later, in college, Jill discovered the sexual advantages of being limber. She could fold and extend and contort her arms and legs and torso in ways that held her lovers in rapt attention. The men she knew intimately always marveled at the many positions Jill's lean body could hold.
Of all Jill's positions, one inspired admiration above the others: legs spread wide, pussy on display.
No other position left her feeling quite the same exquisite combination of vulnerability and strength. When spread, Jill could never forget that she exposed and revealed her most private parts. But when spread, she had power, too. She could see that power reflected in her lovers' eyes. Around pussies, men became little boys. They could never get enough, never see enough. When confronted with one, open and on view, they all seemed to be subdued by its power. A delicious thrill took Jill every time she parted her legs. The wider she spread them, the more power she had over her lovers. The men she knew in college, exposed to Jill's spread legs, fell under her spell every time.
Her late husband John was different. John loved Jill's pussy, but he was never cowed by it. John and Jill would lie in bed, naked, Jill on her back. John would push gently against her knees, until they opened, and Jill exposed herself, and then John would attend to her. He would caress her, lick her, tease and tickle her. He would push her lips back with his fingers and carry on a long, silly conversation with her pussy. John would tell Jill's pussy what a pretty pussy she was, that she was just right in every way -- that she had the right amount of swell and curve, the ideal, flirty slit, the perfect little hooded button of a clit, and just the right degree of lippiness. Jill never could get enough of his words and his fingers and the press of his hand against her knees, pushing them open. She could never get enough of his swollen cock, pressing against her folds and entering her with the perfect mix of urgency and tenderness. John never failed to bring her to orgasm, nor did he mind that she often squirted into his hands and his face when she came. He drank whatever he could with glee. The days and nights in bed with John led Jill to connect the spreading of her legs with some of the happiest and most fulfilling moments and sensations she had ever known.
John had died two years before, of a sudden illness. Jill was 45 now, widowed, horny, and ready to find a mate again.
It was late summer, mid-morning, and her son Jack was downstairs, probably still sleeping in his bedroom. Jack had just graduated from college, and he was staying at home with mom until the fall, when he would move to another city to start a job.
Jill sat on the floor of her upstairs bedroom, back propped up against the side of the bed. She sat naked, with her legs spread straight out from her body. She looked at her reflection in a full length mirror a few feet away.
When she was a gymnast Jill could have spread her legs perfectly straight out, so that they formed a horizontal line from toe to toe. Though still fit for her age, she was neither as lean nor as limber as she was as a teen, and now she had to settle for her legs forming a wide, shallow 'V' instead of a straight line.
She wasn't a teen, anymore, but she looked good, she thought. She ate smartly and exercised. Her body held up well against the onset of middle age.
She reached between her legs and pulled her labia back.
Jill liked the contrast between the damp, rich pinkness inside her pussy and the pale, freckled skin of her body. John had liked it, too, and he had told her, many times, how much he had liked it. She thought about his words as she touched herself.
My God, I miss him, she thought.
She dipped a finger into her pussy, pushed it deep inside and curved it up to feel the spongy G-spot, and then pulled it out again to press it against her clitoris. Her hand moved in quick circles. Her breathing grew faster and shallower and louder. It wouldn't take long for her to make herself come. Her ass bounced off the carpet. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the coming orgasm.
Before she came, she heard footsteps. Her eyes opened. Looking up, she saw her son Jack, just inside the bedroom door, staring at her, mouth open and eyes wide.
Jill shrieked, and her legs snapped closed. Her hands flew to her breasts and to her pussy, to shield her nudity from her son.
"Sorry!" Jack cried. He jumped off the carpet, put his hands up, and turned and ran away, out of the bedroom.
Jill sat against the bed, quivering. She wondered why she hadn't closed the door. She wondered what her son thought of her. She wondered how she would face him.
She jumped off the floor and closed the bedroom door. She sat on her bed for a long time, thinking.
An hour later, dressed in khaki shorts and a white short-sleeved top, she left her room and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. She wore thick, black-rimmed eyeglasses to correct her near-sightedness. Her straight, red hair, falling about her shoulders, was not quite dry from her shower. When she turned the corner from the bottom of the stairs, she saw her son Jack in the kitchen, munching on a leftover burrito from the previous night's dinner, and holding a coffee mug.
Jack looked up from his brunch. Their eyes met, and they didn't know what to say to each other. After several awkward moments Jill broke the silence.
"Jack --."
"Mom," Jack interrupted her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone into your room. I'm sorry about that."
"I should have closed the door. I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry you saw that."
"You don't need to be sorry, mom. You don't have anything to be sorry about."
"Yeah," Jill said. "But still . . . that's not something a son should see." She smiled grimly. "I hope you're not traumatized for life."
Jack smiled too.
"I think I'll recover, mom. Why don't we try to forget about it. Next time, I'll shout and knock before I come into your bedroom."
"Sounds like a plan," Jill said.
She walked to the refrigerator and pulled some fruit and leftovers out. She and Jack spent a while eating their respective meals without speaking. Jill broke the silence.
"It's been hard," she said. "Without your father. I haven't had a man in my life for a long time. I hope you understand that."
"Mom, you don't have to explain," Jack responded. "You and dad were always open-minded about things -- things having to do with sex. I always appreciated that. You don't have to explain anything to me. You don't have to be sorry about anything."
"I appreciate that," Jill said. "I should let you know . . . I'm thinking about dating. What do you think about that?"
"It's been two years, mom," Jack said. "I totally understand. I'm sure it's been, like, really hard. You don't need to worry about me."
"Thanks, Jack," she said.
"Dad would want you to be happy, mom," Jack said.
Jill almost cried at that. Her son's understanding about her needs surprised her. But Jack had always been mature for his age.
"The truth is," Jill said, "I've gone on a couple of dates already. Through an online dating site. I hope that doesn't bother you."
Jack was surprised. He had no idea his mom had started dating again.
"When . . . when did this happen?" he asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Jill put her head down, avoiding Jack's stare, before answering him. She was embarrassed she hadn't told him.
"I don't know, Jack. I wasn't sure how it would go. I haven't dated in a long, long time. I didn't know what to expect and I thought I'd just spare you the details of your mom's dating life."
"Mom, I understand," Jack said. "I'm an adult. I don't expect you to live the rest of your life like a nun. Can I ask, though -- is there somebody you're dating steadily now?"
"No," she said. "I've been on a few first dates -- guys I've met through the dating site. But no second dates. It hasn't gone anywhere. I've been disappointed."
"Why's that?" Jack asked.
"Well, it seems like all the guys who are interested are . . . old. I'm getting interest from guys in their late 50s and 60s. I want to date somebody younger, closer to my age, or maybe even younger than me. But it seems like guys my age are looking for women who are a lot younger. It sucks."
"You know, mom, I've, like, done some online dating myself. A lot of it is how you market yourself. You may not be marketing yourself the right way to get attention from guys your age."
Jack downed a big gulp of coffee in the mug in his hand.
"Tell you what," he said. "How about if you let me look at your dating site profile? I can give you some pointers from a guy's perspective."
"Ah," Jill said, and she hesitated. "That seems awkward. Letting my son look at my dating profile. I don't know, Jack. I'm not sure I can deal with that."
"Mom, come on," Jack said. He smiled, his face reassuring. "I can help. I want to help. I've done my share of dating online. I know how it works."
"Well," Jill responded, slowly. "I guess so. I guess I've got nothing to lose. But don't laugh, O.K.? Your old mom is feeling vulnerable."
"I won't laugh," Jack said. "And you're not so old. Let's look at it over here." Jack walked to a computer and monitor sitting in a nook to the side of the kitchen. He waved his mom over. After a moment's hesitation, she followed him.
"Go ahead," Jack said.
Jill's fingers tapped over the keyboard as she logged in to the Web site. In a minute her profile page popped up on the screen. She stood to the side to let Jack look at it, but not without feeling nervous and embarrassed.
I can't believe I'm letting him look at this, she thought.
But she let him look.
Once on her page, Jack consumed it, greedily. Jill saw his eyes scanning the way she'd described herself. She saw him poring over the photos she had uploaded. She saw the intensity of his face while he looked over her profile page. She wondered what he would think of her. She realized she didn't want him to disapprove. She caught her breath and waited for him to finish.
At last his fingers stopped hitting the keyboard. He pulled back, and he turned to his mom. He pointed at the screen.
"Mom," Jack said. "It says here on your profile that you want to date guys from 45 years old to . . . 25. That's 20 years younger than you, right? That's only three years older than me."
Jill blushed. She didn't want her son seeing that. She wished she hadn't let him log on to her profile page.
"Yeah," she said. "Yes. That's right. It's just . . . I keep myself in very good shape. I go to the gym. I want somebody . . . compatible. I don't want to date old guys. I thought it might be fun . . . to date somebody a lot younger. I've never done that." She put her head in her hands. "Is this weird? Do you think I'm a bad person?"
Jack looked at his mom with patience and love.
"No, mom!" he said. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to date younger guys. But if you want to do that, you gotta change your profile."
Jack pulled up her dating site pictures.
"Mom, no offense," Jack said. "But your pictures suck. The ones of you are all selfies. Your main portrait picture is fuzzy. It doesn't even look like you. And this one -- it's a bathroom selfie. You're wearing some long dress I've never seen you wear. It totally hides your figure. And what's this?"
He pointed to a photo of a flower in the garden in the backyard.
"Well," Jill stammered. "I like gardening. I wanted to let them know that."
"Mom," Jack said. "No guy gives a shit about that. Pardon my French. Guys want to know what you look like. And if you're interested in younger guys, they want to know if you're hot. They don't want to look at a bunch of plants."
Jill didn't know what to say. Jack seemed to know more about online dating profiles than she would have guessed. But as she looked over the photos of her on her page, she had to admit, they weren't very glamorous.
"What do you think I should do?" she asked.
"You need new pictures, mom," Jack replied.
"O.K.," she said. "I guess I'll do that. I'm not much of a photographer, though. I try, but, well . . . you've seen the selfies I took."
"I could help you out with that," Jack said.
"What do you mean?" Jill asked.
"I mean I could take the pictures. I'm a pretty good photographer. I could take photos of you that are way better than what you've got on your profile page."
Jill paused.
"Like, what do you have in mind?" she asked.
"Let's get a picture of you by the pool," Jack said. "In a swimsuit. Show yourself. You're a good-looking woman, mom."
It felt strange to hear those words from her son. But it felt good, too. It had been a long time since she'd shown her body, and it was still in good shape. Maybe Jack was right.
"O.K., Mr. photographer," Jill said to her son. "What do we do now?"
"You go upstairs, and put a swim suit on, and I'll get my camera. We'll meet at the pool. How's that?"
"O.K.," Jill said. "But this still seems kind of weird."
"It's only weird if you make it weird," Jack said.
Jill left the room and walked upstairs.
Her skin tingled. What Jack proposed seemed strange. She wasn't comfortable. But maybe he was right -- it was only weird if she made it weird.
She pulled open the second drawer of the dresser in her bedroom, where the swimsuits lay. She fished out a one-piece suit, pink with a floral pattern. She shucked off her shorts and top and pulled the suit over her body.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad for an old lady, she thought. But she stopped by the bathroom before heading downstairs. She touched up her face with some foundation and she applied mascara around her eyes. Before she left she applied sunscreen all over her body. She rubbed it in well, so it wouldn't make her skin look greasy.
Ready, I guess, she thought. She walked downstairs.
When she reached the ground floor, she looked for Jack. She didn't see him at first. Then she saw him, through the window. He stood near the pool in the back yard, and he was doing something to his camera.
Jill sucked in a big breath, and she walked through the back door.
It was a strange feeling, parading in front of her son in a swimsuit, wanting him to take pictures of her. Jack's reaction eased her nervousness. He smiled, kindly, and beckoned her toward the pool with his hand.
"Over here, mom," he said, gesturing toward a reclining chair near the pool. "We'll get some pictures of you lying on this lounge chair." Jill walked toward the reclining lounge chair. A thick off-white cushion covered its heavy, stained teak frame.
"What do you want me to do?" Jill asked her son.
"Go ahead and lie on the lounge chair, and we'll go from there."
The reclining chair stood on the pool patio, a few feet away from the kidney-shaped pool. Thick shoots of greenery sprang skyward from the ground around the patio, against the backyard fence. The bushes stood deep-green and dense, screening the backyard from the eyes of potentially peeping neighbors.
Jill lay on the reclining chair. Her body didn't feel entirely her own. She saw her son taking photos of her, stretched full-length in the chair in her pink swimsuit, but it almost felt like it was someone else having her photos taken.
Jack took many photos of her, instructing her to move this way and that. But he seemed dissatisfied. Jill sat up in the chair.
"Jack?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"Is something wrong? You don't seem happy."
"It's not that."
"Then what is it?"
Jack did not answer immediately.
"Well --" he began.
"What is it?" Jill asked.
"I don't think that's the right suit for this, mom. It's too . . . conservative. It's an old lady suit. In your dating profile you put that you want to date guys that are 25. That's near my age. You're very pretty, mom. If you want to date guys that age, mom, I think you can. But you gotta do better than that suit."
Jill was taken aback. It was strange to hear criticism from her son about her swimsuit choices. But, she had to admit, he had a point. He was 22. She was 45. If she wanted to attract younger men -- and she did -- it made sense to listen to Jack.
"What do you recommend?" she asked.
"Let's go upstairs," he said.
Jack and Jill walked into the house, Jack in the lead, taking stairs two at a time on the way up to her bedroom. She followed him close behind, until they both reached her dresser.
He opened the top drawer. Panties and bras. That wasn't it.
He opened the second one, full of swimsuits. Bingo.
Jill's mouth clenched as her son's hands went into the drawer, rifling through her large swimwear collection. John had bought many suits for her over the years, most of them skimpy. She had enjoyed showing off for him, but at 45 she wasn't sure she could fill a bikini as successfully as she had in the past. It was a lot stranger, too, having one's son handling her bikinis than having her husband do so. But she stood silent, watching him. He was trying to be helpful, and she had to admit there was a devilish thrill in watching his fingers sifting nimbly and lovingly over the tiny pieces of fabric that had hugged her body in its most intimate places.
"What's this?" Jack said suddenly.
He pulled out her smallest and sexiest bikini. It was almost impossibly tiny -- two pieces of aqua lycra held together with the thinnest of strings. It was unlined. The bottom was in a Brazilian style that left most of the ass exposed. The top consisted of tiny triangles that obviously were insufficient fully to cup and cover breasts as large as Jill's. John had bought it for her just before a vacation to Hawaii, and she had worn it only once, when they spent the day at a beach with few people. To Jill it had seemed like John was unable to take his eyes off her all day. She enjoyed the visual feast she gave him even though the suit was so brief that it left her feeling nervous and embarrassed the whole day that she wore it.
"Wow, mom!" Jack said. "You wore this? This is tiny!"
"I wore it when your dad and I went to Maui a while ago," she said. "Just one time."
"You must have looked amazing in this," Jack said. Jill saw that he caught himself as soon as he said it, as though suddenly aware that it was an odd thing to say about one's mother. He stopped talking, but Jill noted that his forefinger and thumb were rubbing over the tiny triangle of lycra meant to stretch over and cover her pubic mound. He stared at it intently, and Jill had the feeling that her son was thinking about the part of her body that this part of the suit had once covered, if only barely.
She felt goosebumps on her body.
"You need to wear this," Jack said firmly. "This will be perfect."
"Jack, that's much too skimpy," she said. "I can't put pictures of myself on the Internet in that thing. Come on."
Jack held it up to the light. It wasn't quite see-through in the bedroom light, but it almost was.
"Yeah, you can, mom," he said. "You're not going to show anything you shouldn't. I'll be careful with the angles. This color is perfect against your skin. It's going to show you off really well."
Jack meant it, but Jill wasn't entirely convinced. The suit was awfully small.
"Besides, mom," Jack said. "Taking the photos doesn't mean they're going on the Web site. You can pick and choose whatever you want to put on. Let's do it. You'll look great."
Jill decided to give it a try. What the heck, she thought. If I don't like the pics, I'll choose another suit.
"O.K., I guess," she said. But I get to veto any pics going up if I think they're too much. Deal?"
"Deal," Jack said. "I'll go wait by the pool while you put it on."
He closed the door behind him. Jill stood over the tiny suit lying on the bed.
She pulled off the one-piece and quickly tied on the aqua bikini. She hadn't worn it in years, and she had forgotten how slight it felt on her. It was like she wasn't wearing anything at all. When she was done with both hip ties she reluctantly gazed into the full-length mirror to see her reflection.
Wow, she thought. It was small. Crazy small. The triangle tops were only a couple of inches across, and her pale, full breasts spilled out to every side of them. The bottom was just as tiny -- nothing more than a thin inverted triangle that covered just what it absolutely needed to, and nothing more. If it moved even a fraction of an inch to either side, part of her labia would be exposed.
She half-turned to see the back coverage. It wasn't a thong, but the triangle of fabric left most of her butt exposed, and its apex disappeared into the cleft at the bottom of her cheeks. She was pleased to see her butt looked firm, with no sign of imminent droop, in the tiny suit. The color of the suit was a good fit, too; the pale green-blue nicely set off her pale, pink-toned, freckled body.
Her biggest concern about the suit wasn't its size, however, it was the thinness of the lycra -- what looked like less than a millimeter of fabric obscured her private parts from view. And, to be honest, they weren't fully obscured. The suit wasn't see-through, but it had no lining and it was so thin that it molded closely over her nipples, which jutted out noticeably, and over her pussy, which left a subtle but noticeable vertical dimple between her legs. When she looked more closely still, she noticed a hint of darkness where her privates were, as well.
She also saw a few stray hairs peeking out from the bottom. She would have to take care of that.
She shucked off the bottom, walked to the shower in the bathroom, and pulled out her razor and some shaving cream. A well-cropped patch of auburn hair did little to obscure anything below, but it would look bad peeking out the side of the suit. She began to shave the sides, and then decided on a whim to shave it all off. It would be easier to deal with the suit that way, and it took no time to get rid of the remainder of the scrubby patch. In a few strokes she was clean shaven. John always liked it that way, he said, because he liked the feel of her smooth skin against his cock. Jill had liked that feeling, too.
Shaved and ready, Jill put the suit back on. She slathered on more sun screen, a necessity to protect her pale skin from the mid-summer sun. She thought about putting on a cover up, but she hadn't done it before and decided against it. There was no one in the house to see her other than Jack, and there was no point hiding her body from him when he was going to be taking photos of her in minutes anyway.
Her body lay exposed to the cool, air-conditioned atmosphere of the house, and her skin tingled as she descended the stairs. She felt like she wore nothing.
Jill's confidence waivered. She took a detour to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of white wine. A few sips took the edge off her nervousness, and she took the glass with her to the backyard.
When she opened the back door and walked into the sun and toward the pool, Jack heard her and looked up from clipping a large flash to his digital camera. His jaw dropped before he composed himself. He skipped a beat before speaking.
"Mom, that looks perfect," he said.
Jill felt relieved to hear him say it.
"So," she said. "Where do you want me?"
Bad word choice, she thought. She saw a faint smile twist over Jack's lips, and she knew he was thinking about her word choice, too.
"Over here," he said slowly.
He ushered her over to the side of the pool, where dense green bushes lay behind, offering a suitable background for the photograph.
"Let's start with a nice portrait shot. It'll be nice and pretty and not too sexy, but your . . . uh . . . potential dates will see from your bare shoulders you're in a swimsuit. You can use it as a good portrait shot."
He instructed her where to go, adjusting her position with his words to get the light and background right. He took several photos, adjusting settings and the degree of fill flash to offset the glare beating down from above. He pulled the camera down and looked at it.
"Wow, that turned out great," he said. "Come and see."
She sidled up next to him and leaned in to see the photos he'd just taken pulled up on the view screen in the back of the digital camera. She was aware that her barely clad boob was pressed against his arm, but she didn't move it away.
They were good pictures. Jack had a keen eye, and her eyes and smile, she had to admit, looked youthful and pretty. It was a good classic portrait photo, except that the smooth, freckled skin of her shoulders lay bare instead of covered.
Jill felt a boost of confidence. I look a lot better and younger in those photos than in the ones I took, she thought.
"O.K., now, mom," Jack said. "Let's take some real bikini shots."
Jack talked Jill through a series of poses standing up by the pool -- arms akimbo, arms at her side, arms over her head. He asked her to stand with one leg in front of the other, then with her weight on one leg and the other bent, and then with her legs apart. The last pose made her feel more vulnerable. The farther apart her legs were, the more flesh was exposed, and the smaller the tiny bottom would be, relative to it. But as she stood that way, before her son, the familiar tingle rose, through her body. That feeling of power she got as her legs parted. She felt embarrassed that the tingle emerged in the presence of her son. But it was a welcome feeling. She hadn't felt it in a long time, but it came rushing back. Jack lingered over that last pose as he took more photos.
"Let's go back to the lounge chair," Jack said.
Jill walked over to it in and sat down at the end of it, her feet still on the pool deck.
"Put a foot up on the chair."
She did as he asked, perching one foot on the chair cushion, and the other on the concrete patio, and pointing her toes on both feet. Her legs were bent and parted, and her knees were up, and, again, she was aware of the show her open legs gave Jack.
I should be more embarrassed than I am, she thought. I shouldn't do this.
But she did do it, following every instruction Jack gave her. He took shot after shot as she assumed different variations of the pose on the chair. For a moment she looked down, and she liked the contrast of the seat cushion, her suit, and her pale skin. From Jack's attentiveness with his camera she guessed he liked it too.
She reached for her wine glass and took a sip, and then a big gulp, and then another big gulp, until the glass was empty. The cool Chardonnay entered her belly and had an immediate effect. Tension and nervousness eased. Calm took over. And something else took hold of her -- a frisson of excitement, maybe even arousal.
"You look great, mom!" Jack said. She appreciated his efforts to make her at ease, even though they were becoming less necessary. Jill was simultaneously struck by the strangeness of what she was doing and the deliciousness of how it made her feel. It was nice to have someone appreciate her body again, even if it was her son.
"Thanks!" she said. "I've got an idea."
She got up from the chair, and then sat down on the patio. The radiant heat from the concrete was hot against her mostly bare bottom for a moment, but she forced herself to take it. She stretched her legs to the side. She wondered how well she could still do the splits on the pool patio in the tiny suit.
Jack's eyes bulged wide as his mom's legs stretched wider. Mom was getting into it, and she was starting to enjoy the show she was putting on. That was fine with Jack. He kept busy with the camera controls to ensure he got the clearest, best-focused photo he could of his mom stretched wide on the patio in the miniscule bikini.
Her legs didn't quite make it to a full horizontal position, but they came close. It seemed to Jack like they went on forever to either side of her, ending in red-painted toe nails pointed to either side. The length of her legs accentuated the brevity of the bikini bottom, which now lay taut against the small part of her that it covered. He took several more pictures.
"Yoga poses!" she said. Jack didn't even know what that meant. He knew his mom did yoga, and he'd seen her in yoga outfits often, but he'd never actually watched her do it, and he'd never done it himself.
Jack got a quick education, watching his mom put her body through a series of twists and stretches. Her barely clad body pretzeled in front him, legs and arms going this way and that. He tried to concentrate on the photography, but he found his eyes constantly glancing back at the minute top and bottom triangles, wondering if the stretching would cause something to pop out unexpectedly. He was getting warmer under the sun. A film of sweat lay over his forehead and arms. And he could see sweat through the camera lens beginning to coat his mom's exposed skin, too. A sexy sheen soon enveloped her.
"Wow, mom, that's fantastic," he said. He took a few more photos and shook his head. He'd lost control of the shoot as the photographer. Mom was leading the way. As much as he enjoyed watching his mom take over and pose for him, there were specific shots he wanted to take.
"Mom, let's get back on the lounge chair," he said.
Jill jumped up from the concrete in response, and she lay back in the chair. She wondered what Jack had in mind.
"Put your hands behind your head, and one knee up," he said.
Jill felt giddy from the wine and the yoga stretching. Her body buzzed under the sun. She'd forgotten her earlier embarrassment and was enjoying showing it off. She followed Jack's instructions, but she exaggerated the pose he wanted, arching her back and thrusting her breasts out. One leg stretched down the length of the chair, bent slightly, and the other bent up and out with a toe wildly pointed away from her. She let that leg fall back and away against the wood arm rest of the lounge chair. When Jack looked up from his camera, she caught his glance, and she knew he was looking at the way her body stretched and swelled and pushed against the thin aqua fabric. She enjoyed the feeling so much she almost forgot it was her son looking at her. She wanted to tease him. She pulled both knees up and snapped them together.
Jack took several photos, and then he moved closer to her. Uncertainty showed in his face. Then, as though he had a faint but not yet fully formed idea how he wanted her to pose next, he reached out to her, and his fingers touched her left knee.
The touch was electric, flooding her with long-buried desires and sensations. As though beyond her control, her knees responded to the touch by parting. She pulled both knees back, until they rested against the wood arm rests as far as they could go.
"You look beautiful, mom," Jack said.
"Thanks," she said, but she thought, I know you think that without telling me. I can see it in your eyes. Jack wasn't looking at her like a son, anymore. Her mind wrestled with the implications of that look.
"You're so limber, mom," Jack said. "I had no idea."
"You know I was a gymnast when I was young," she said.
"Yeah, I guess I knew that. But I'd never seen you do stuff like that. That was impressive."
"Thanks," she said. She kept her legs parted. If she felt vulnerable before, she felt more vulnerable now, but more powerful, too.
"Can you put your legs behind your head?" Jack asked, out of the blue.
"Um," she said, suddenly less comfortable. "I'm not sure, but I don't think that falls within the bounds of good Web site photos."
"Well," Jack replied. "I guess it depends what kind of Web site."
"What do you mean?" she asked, challenging him with a skeptical edge in her voice.
"I mean, there are ordinary dating sites, and then there are sites for people who just want to hook up for a night. It's like . . . some people don't want to do the whole dating thing. They just want . . . some quick fun. You said you were thinking about guys in their 20s, so I wonder if that's what you're thinking."
"You think that's what your mother wants?" she challenged him.
"Mom, it's no big deal," he said. "Like I said, you and dad taught me to be open about sex. I'm not judging. But if you want a hook-up, there are sites for that, and the photos are a lot more, um, well, they show more. But you can block out your face from those photos. No one will see your face. Just your body."
"Jack," she said. "I can't see myself posing like that for a Web site."
"That's fine, mom," he replied. "Let's just take the photo; like the rest, you can decide later what to do with it."
He tapped her lightly on the knee.
"Go ahead, mom."
Something about the touch of his finger persuaded her. It was a weak spot. She knew it, and she felt the resistance give way. Jill grabbed her ankles, and she pulled her legs back. It was a move she could have done with ease when younger, but her legs, though still limber, responded more slowly to the pull on them than before. Finally, though, her feet were behind her head. She looked at Jack's face. He wasn't looking at hers; he was staring straight between her legs. Jill had a pretty good idea what he could see.
Jack saw the tiny triangle of lycra stretched so thin over the mound between her legs that the contours of her pussy were unmistakable under it. At its narrowest point the upside-down triangle was so thin that it didn't cover all the darker skin surrounding her anus, which, with his mom's legs spread so far back, was turned up toward his face. He wanted to reach out and caress it, but he couldn't go that far. He put his camera up, instead, and took photos of his mom from no more than two feet away. She looked beautiful, and, in this pose, extremely enticing.
Jill held the pose for what seemed minutes. Jack took his time, and despite her misgivings she enjoyed the scrutiny he gave her body, and the loving way he focused the camera on her. It felt good to have a man's eyes on her this way, even if it was her son's eyes that scanned her.
"Have you got all your photos?" she asked.
"You can put your legs back," he said.
She let her ankles go and her feet fell back to the lounge chair, but she kept her knees apart. She was enjoying this too much, she thought.
"I've got another idea," Jack said. "Let's get a shot of you coming out of the pool. That'll look great."
"You mean, you want me to get in the pool?" she asked. "I'll get the suit wet."
"Yeah, but not your hair," he said. "Keep your hair above the water."
"My point is, Jack," she said. "I'm not sure I want pictures of me in this suit wet. It's going to be . . . kind of see-through."
"It'll be fine, mom," Jack replied. "Come on, you'll look great. If you don't like the pictures, they don't have to go on the site. It'll be your call."
After a moment's indecision, Jill gave in, against her better judgment. Jack beckoned her over to a metal railing at the side of the pool, close to the deep end. Jill turned around and lowered herself in the pool, hands on the rail. The water felt cool and pleasant under the hot sun. She lowered herself into the water until it reached near shoulder level and the fringes of her red hair hit the water.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Ready," Jack said, holding his camera in front of his face.
She climbed very slowly up the steps, pulling herself up by the metal rail. She emerged from the water like a modern-day, red-headed Venus.
It took all Jack's concentration to keep taking pictures, rather than tossing the camera to the side and staring at his mom. He figured the water would make her suit a little clingier and maybe a little more see-through, but he underestimated the effect of the water on the suit's transparency. The soaked bikini top and bottom left nothing to the imagination. It was almost clear. The detail of his mom's nipples and areola were fully revealed. When her hips lifted out of the water her sweet, bare, vertical cleft, framed by the fleshy mounds of her labia, was completely visible. The little hood over her clit poked out against the suit. Jack asked his mom to hold that position, hands on the top of the metal railing, while he took photos of her. Jill knew what Jack could see; it embarrassed her and excited her.
He was almost shaking when he was done. He couldn't believe what a powerful impression the sight of his mom's body -- nude, for all intents and purposes -- had on him.
"Let's go back to the lounge chair," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
Jill knew full well what she was showing off, and we she lay back on the lounge chair again, this time with her bikini soaked, she kept her legs together and put an arm over her breasts.
"Go ahead and open up your legs again, mom," he said.
"Jack --."
Jack didn't say anything, but he touched her knee again. That feeling. She couldn't deny it. She let her legs fall back against the arm rests.
"Put your hands up, near your head," he said. "Take your arm away."
She did as she asked. Her body tingled with nervousness and guilt, but it trilled with unmistakable arousal, too.
"You like it, don't you," Jack said after a beat. "You like opening up your legs. You feel weird doing it with me -- it is kind of weird -- but you like it. You look good, mom." He said it quietly, his words reassuring, not lewd.
Jill didn't say anything in response at first. She stared back at him while he stared at her nearly nude body.
"Your dad --" she began.
"What about dad?" he asked.
"He liked me this way. I always liked . . . opening up to him. I miss that."
"I like it too," Jack said. "Like father like son, I guess.
"Let's take some more pictures," he said.
Jill almost gave in to his request, but when she saw Jack focusing his camera on the clear bikini bottom she shot a hand down from its place at her head to between her thighs, covering the soaked and clear lycra.
"Oh, Jack, I don't know," she said.
"I do, mom," Jack said, and he smiled. "Take your hand away."
Her hand lay over her the fabric stretched over her pussy. She wrestled with Jack's instructions, and with her own warring desires. Slowly, she pulled her hand away. It trailed along her body, and when her middle finger moved over her clit she pressed down, softly. Her fingers continued their progress up her body.
"Wait, mom," Jack said, and Jill stopped her hand, fingers barely above the top edge of the scant bikini bottom.
"You just touched yourself," Jack said.
Jill's pale face reddened. Jack was right, but she had not wanted him to see that.
"I saw that," Jack continued. "You just touched your . . . your clit. While I was watching you. Wow.
"Go ahead, mom," he said. "If you want to touch yourself, touch yourself." To give weight to his request, he touched her knee again, and her legs opened still more. It didn't seem fair to Jill that such a simple gesture had a such a powerful effect on her willpower and resistance.
Jill's hazel eyes fixed on her son's eyes -- blue, like his father's.
For seconds, minutes -- she lost track -- Jill's hand rested on her lower body, fingers poised to reverse direction and touch herself again. She was conscious of the importance of the decision she was about to make, a decision that might affect her relationship with her son forever, that might affect their whole lives.
She made her decision. Her hand moved down. The tip of her middle finger touched the little nub showing under the bikini bottom, where her clit lay only partly obscured. She pressed down. Then she added two more fingers, and soon her hand moved in tight, steady circles around her clit over the thin fabric of the suit.
"That's right, mom," Jack said, excitement in his voice. "Touch yourself like that."
He took a photo, but after taking only one he put the camera aside. He wanted to watch, not photograph. He sat down on the end of the lounge chair, his mom's legs spread out to either side of him.
Jill's hand moved faster and faster. At first, the bikini bottom, tightly pressed against her skin, didn't move. But as her fingers pressed harder and faster, the fabric began to give way. Her swirling fingers pushed it right, and then left. On either side, her outer lips, bare and freckled, came into view.
"Take it off, mom," Jack said.
"Oh, Jack," Jill replied. She didn't take it off, but she kept moving her hand, faster and faster, and the tiny lycra piece lifted and moved back and forth across the skin of her mound.
Jack put his hands on his mom's thighs and squeezed. He pushed them back while she masturbated.
"I can see everything already, mom," Jack said. "There's nothing to hide from me. I see your pussy through the suit. Take it off. You'll get yourself off better if you take it off."
Jill's hand kept moving between her legs. Her head was back, against the seat cushion, and her eyes were closed. She heard Jack's words as though through a thick filter of lust and confusion. He wanted her to do something, but she was so busy rubbing herself she didn't know how to do it.
"You do it," she said. "You do it."
"O.K., mom," Jack said.
It was easy to do. His hands went to each side of the bikini bottom, and each gave a quick tug on the string on her hip. The knot came undone on each side. Jack pulled, and after a moment's resistance he felt her ass lift off the chair and the bikini bottom gave way to his hands. As soon as it was off her he tossed it to the side.
His mom's pussy lay in front of him, uncovered. Her hand never stopped rapidly massaging the little clit, and the motion caused her pussy lips to open and close in a steady rhythm, revealing pink depths that left Jack in rapture. Jack took her thighs in his hand, and he squeezed them, enjoying the soft, pale, freckled skin and the firm, lean muscles underneath. He held the thighs apart, so he could enjoy the view that mom's hand created.
Jill closed her eyes. She focused her attention on the pressure of her hand on her pussy. She wanted to come, whether her son watched or not. Her fingers rubbed more and more furiously over the nub of her clit.
Jack sat mesmerized at the sight of his mom, open legged and frantically rubbing herself. He lost track of time. His surroundings became a blur. The singular focus of his attention was his mom's pussy.
Jill felt the orgasm come on quickly, and sooner than she expected. It welled up from inside her, and her back arched. She pushed her hand down hard on her clit and her body reacted. She came.
Jack watched, spellbound, as his mom's body shook and writhed over the lounge chair. The lips of her pussy parted.
Jill squirted. She opened her eyes, in time to see a thick spray of clear liquid erupt from her pussy, splattering and covering Jack's shirt. Jack looked on without moving, bug-eyed and open-mouthed. Jill tilted her hips up and with a quick hand opened her pussy further, and the spray became a thin jet of fluid splashing over her son's face. His mouth, open with surprise, took some of it, and Jill watched her cum spilling out its sides.
When the squirting stopped she still shook from the orgasm. Her legs and hips spasmed. While her body shook she held her gaze on her son, still and stunned. She wondered how he would respond.
She didn't wait long. The look on his face changed from slack and immobile to something different. He put a hand to his face, dripping with his mom's fluids. He wiped it off and put the hand to his mouth. He licked his mother's wetness off his hand. He closed his mouth and swallowed.
My son just swallowed my cum, Jill thought.
When he was done licking the cum off his hands he pushed his mom's legs farther apart and his face went forward. He kissed his mom's pussy, tongue out, lapping up all the wetness that coated her.
Jill closed her eyes again and moaned. It had been a long time since a man's mouth had been on her. Jack's tongue, in its attentiveness to her body, recalled the tongue of her late husband.
"John," she said.
She felt Jack pull back.
"I'm Jack," he said.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just . . . you felt like your father."
"He liked doing this?"
"He did."
"You'd squirt for him?"
"I did."
"And he'd drink it up, put his mouth all over you and drink it up?"
"Yes. He did."
"And you loved that."
"I did."
"I can do that too, mom," Jack said, his eyes wide and steady on hers. "And I want to. Watch."
Jill watched as Jack put his mouth on her, sucking and lapping up the wetness from her orgasm on her thighs and around her pussy. She hadn't felt anything so good since John had gone. She reached a hand forward, grabbed the short hairs on Jack's head, and held him close to her. His tongue went to work on her for several more minutes.
Eventually, Jack pulled back.
"I'll bet dad liked something else, too, mom," Jack said, as he stood up and his hands went to the waistband of his shorts.
"What are you doing, Jack?" Jill asked.
"I'm going to fuck you, mom," he said. "I've just watched you squirt and come and I've put my mouth all over your pussy, and now I need my cock inside you."
Jill almost said something in protest. It was wrong for her son to talk about her this way, she thought. But in her son's voice she heard the echo of her husband. He had talked to her that way. And she'd talked back. John and Jill had woven dirty talk into their fucking. John had always been good at it, and Jill had gotten good at it too. They had made it a contest: who could talk dirtier and make the other come first with his or her words.
Whatever reservations she might have had minutes earlier, Jill knew now she wasn't going to stop Jack from fucking her. She decided then and there she wanted Jack to know what that she thought about that. She would play with him as she had played with John.
"You want to fuck your mother's wet pussy?" Jill said to Jack, almost surprising herself.
Jack stopped, startled, and stared at his mom.
"Yes," he said. "That's what I want."
"You want to fuck me right here in the backyard by the pool, where the neighbors can hear us?" she asked.
"Yeah," Jack said. "That's exactly what I want to do to you."
A moment hung in the air. Jack and Jill knew they were on a precipice, that they were about to jump off and change things between them forever. Jack's blue eyes and Jill's hazel eyes locked on to one another, and a lifetime of love and meaning passed between them as they readied themselves to give in to their mutual desire.
"Then you better fuck me," Jill said. She lay back against the lounge chair and she pulled her legs back, spreading them wide for Jack.
"I'll fuck you, mom," Jack said. He stood up and pulled his shirt off. Jill admired the lean muscles of his chest and shoulders. She watched his hands go to the waistband of his shorts. He pushed them down his legs. Jill saw a hard, fat cock pop up when the shorts went down. There was no denying Jack's excitement, because the cock stood up straight and away from him.
I want that, she thought.
Jack wasted no time. He kicked the shorts away from his ankles and grabbed his mom's thighs again. He angled his body, and the swollen cockhead bumped against the fleshy hood over his mom's clit. Jill squealed at the contact. There was no need to use his hand to guide himself in; his cock knew where it wanted to go, and Jill's pussy was open and waiting for it.
He pushed in.
That's a fat cock, Jill thought, as it entered her. John had always satisfied her, but the cock pushing its way into her might have been even larger, or at least wider, than her husband's. It had been over two years since a man had been inside her, and with her son's cock quickly filling her she wondered how she'd been able to do without that feeling for so long. Jack pushed into her quickly and his body angled over hers, his arm muscles tense as he held himself over her.
Jill knew what she wanted, so she grabbed her son by the back of his head and pulled his mouth down to hers. Her lips pressed hard against his, and their tongues danced together. She felt his body shiver over hers as though shocked by her aggressiveness, but after a few seconds his body relaxed. It began rocking against her as they kissed.
Jill felt the thick cock pull back then push back in. She pulled her mouth away from Jack's to let out a low moan of satisfaction.
"Oh, Jack, fuck me," she said.
"Oh, mom, I will. I am."
"I love the way you fuck me with your big cock. Do you like it? Do you like pounding your mom's wet cunt?"
"Oh, yeah."
By his quickened breathing and the grin on his face Jill knew her words turned him on. They turned her on too.
Jack pulled his face away from his mom's, and he locked his mouth over a pink, upright nipple. Jill felt his saliva over her breast, and then felt her nipple sucked hard into his mouth. He bit down gently.
"Oh!" Jill cried.
Their bodies rocked together as Jack sucked on one tit, and then the other. Jill's hands clenched against his short hair, and her nails dug into his scalp.
"I like the way you fuck me, Jack," she growled. "I want to get lots of hard fucking from your stiff cock."
Jack pulled back, suddenly. His cock still pumped away inside her, but he got up on his knees and grabbed her thighs near her butt and pushed. He wanted her open, again, and Jill obliged. She spread her legs open. Jill and Jack smiled at each other, mouths open, grinning and hungry for each other as he fucked her deeply. Their eyes turned away from each other and they both stared at the junction of his cock and her pussy. His cock was slicked with her wetness, and it glistened in the bright sunlight overhead. Jill saw her equally wet pussy lips dragging along his cock every time it pulled out of her. Jack began a rhythm of pulling out a little farther each time, until his cockhead emerged, almost entirely visible, and Jill's lips clung to him with seeming desperation, wanting him back inside her. The farther out he pulled each time, the harder and faster he pushed back in.
Jill became aware suddenly of where they were: in the backyard, naked and fucking and exposed under the sun. She became aware of the noise they were making, too, panting and squealing and moaning, all mixed together. She wondered if a neighbor could hear. Any prying neighbor determined to find out what they were doing surely could find a crack in the fence somewhere and watch them as they fucked.
Jill didn't care. She just wanted Jack to keep fucking her. She hadn't felt anything so good in years.
She put a hand on Jack's chest.
"Stop for a minute. I want you to fuck me in a different position.
"Pick me up," she said.
It wasn't easy to do as she asked. She put her hands around his neck and he put his hands under her ass. He lifted on his knees and with effort put a foot on the ground. Almost there. He pushed with the other knee -- a slight jump in the air -- and his other foot was on the ground. Now he stood on the pool patio with Jill's arms and legs wrapped around him. The thick cock inside her hadn't budged.
Jack looked around. Jill did too. She was glad the shrubbery screened them from view from her neighbors; she hoped it did. Jack started bucking his hips against her, and she responded by bouncing up and down on his cock as Jack stood by the pool. She worried at first that she'd be too heavy for him, but he seemed to handle Jill's weight with ease. She let herself go and fucked him harder and faster.
"Oh, my pussy feels so good, so good grabbing my son's hard cock."
They pumped away at each. A sheen of sweat lay over each of them now. It lay thickest where their skin touched. Sweat trickled down their bodies.
"I want to try something, mom."
"As long as it means you keep fucking me, try anything."
"I have to put you down for a sec."
She relaxed the grip of her legs around him and set them on the ground. The pulled away from each other. She gripped his cock and held it tightly.
"Mommy wants more of Jack's big dick," she said. With the other hand she put the tip of her finger in her mouth.
"Mom, I can't believe the way you talk," Jack said, breathing hard.
"You mean the way I talk dirty about how hungry I am for your cock?"
"Yeah."
"You like it?"
"I love it. It's just . . . surprising."
"Your dad liked that too. You're more alike than I thought. He liked it when I told him how much I liked him fucking me. So, I did. I'm going to tell you too. I love it when you fuck me. I want you to fuck me more."
"Come over here then." He backed up to the lounge chair, again, and lay back against it. His cock, still hard after all the fucking, stood straight into the air, away from his body, pointing at the sun.
"The advantages of youth," she said, pointing to the upright pale shaft. "It works for me. Do you want me to ride you?"
"Yeah, mom," Jack said. "I want to see you over me with your tits bouncing while we fuck."
"I can do that," she said. But she did something Jack didn't expect. Instead of climbing over him from the bottom of the lounge chair, she straddled the wooden armrests, her thighs on the warm teak. She stretched her legs out, nearly horizontally.
"God, mom," Jack said, marveling at her elasticity.
"I don't know if God has anything to do with it," she said. "But it is hot, huh? You want more of this?" She put a hand down and peeled back her labia, exposing her depths to Jack's crazed eyes. "My cunt's wet and ready for you. Do you want it?"
"Yes, now," he said.
She positioned herself right over him and grabbed his shaft. She lowered her ass as much as she could between the arm rests and felt the cock enter her again.
"Grab your mommy's tits while we fuck," she said.
He didn't need to be told twice. He cupped a breast in each hand and pinched each nipple, hard. Jill squealed.
"Do it again."
He did it again, harder, and she squealed louder.
Jill put her hands against her breasts and mashed them together as her son mauled them with his fingers. Her breasts shone with Jack and Jill's sweat, and she caught the scent of his sweat wafting off his body; his body lay lacquered in it. The heat rose against her body, still mid-day August air mixed with the fire coming off her son's bucking figure.
Beneath Jill, Jack's hips rose and fell in a furious rhythm. His hips pushed forward and up to delve into her depths as far as his cock could go. Jill was vaguely aware of the buzz of insects around her, but as the fucking continued her surroundings blurred. Sights, smells, and sounds other than those coming from their two bodies slapping together faded away. Jill took her hands off her breasts and threw them up to the cloudless sky, saluting the hard fucking she was getting from her son. And it was hard -- one of the hardest fucks she'd ever had. Jack pressed into her relentlessly, so hard that her legs bounced slightly off the wood arm rests. She had to throw her arms back and hold on to the back edge of the arm rests to keep her body from falling over.
It's been so long since I've felt this, she thought. She arched her back and pushed her breasts out and gazed down at her son. His eyes were closed. He's so handsome, she thought. Different from his father, but every inch his equal as a lover. His stamina struck her. Although straddling the wooden arm rests was neither easy nor comfortable, Jack was doing most of the work, bouncing his ass off the lounge cushion and driving himself, over and over, up and into her. He seemed to be enjoying it, but from his hard breathing and the heavy flow of sweat off his lean, muscled body she knew it took a lot of effort to fuck her this way.
Time to make him come, she thought.
"Look at me, Jack," she said.
Jack opened his eyes in a flash.
"Look at my body over you as you fuck me. Look how much I like it. Look how my pussy is swallowing up your hard cock." She pushed down when she said it and her spread lips mashed over his pubic bone.
"Oh yeah, mom," Jack said, voice shaking. "I love it."
"You'll love when I frig my little clit while you fuck me, too. Look, Jack." Her hand went down and opened the hood to reveal the delicate pink button underneath. Then her hand covered it and began rubbing furious circles over and around it.
"Can you come in me, Jack? Do you want that? Do you want to come in your mother?"
Jill saw the answer in his eyes -- yes, he wanted that, badly, and soon. His open mouth sucked in fast, ragged breaths.
"Yeah," he said, struggling to get the words out. "I want that."
Jill grabbed her right tit and with effort put the nipple in her mouth while she rose and fell over her son. She gave it a big, exaggerated slurp for Jack's benefit. His eyes were like saucers, wide and round with lust and disbelief.
"Do you like my body, Jack? Do you like your mom's body?"
"Oh yes," he said.
"Do you like my big tits?" she asked. She grabbed them and shook them as he stared at them.
"Oh, mom, I love them."
Her hands snaked down her torso from her breasts to her upper thighs, which still bounced up and down in response to her son's hard thrusts.
"Do you like my lean legs, spread and stretched wide for you?" Her hands spread out, toward her knees, as her body writhed above his.
"I can't get enough," Jack said.
"And do you like my pussy, Jack, wrapped around your hard cock as you keep fucking it?"
"Oh yes, mom. I love your pussy. I need it."
"Then I think it's time for you to come in it. Come in my pussy now. Look at your mom's spread open legs and fill her pussy. Do it now, Jack."
She saw her words hit their mark.
"Mom, mom," Jack cried, loud enough that Jill was sure any neighbors nearby could hear. She could see it coming, and she rubbed herself even harder, so they could come together.
Jill saw Jack's eyes closed. His hips thrust against her harder, though the pace of his thrusting slowed.
That's it, Jack. That's it, son. That's it, baby, come in me, she thought, wanting it more than anything she had wanted in years.
And then it happened. His body shuddered, and the fingers on her waist tightened against her to ensure her pussy held fast to his cock. One more big thrust came, and then he didn't pull out. He held himself there, against her, hips and ass in the air, shaking over the lounge seat.
A few more good rubs against her pussy, and Jill made herself come too. She squirted again, clear fluid spraying and drenching Jack's cock and all the skin around it. Jill cried out -- there was no doubt, she thought, that anyone in a nearby backyard would hear that. But she didn't stifle it; she let her cry reach its crescendo and then fade out slowly. Her body shook and shivered as well, and for a full minute Jack and Jill's spasming bodies slowed down and quieted together.
Jill lifted her body off his and slid down and off the arm rests. His cock popped out of her, and at last it began to soften and subside. She set a knee on the seat cushion to either side of Jack's waist. Her hand went down again, and she opened herself. She smiled with satisfaction as Jack's mouth dropped open to see his seed spilling from her. He was impressed at the size of the load. Jill was, too. It plopped onto his belly, a little puddle of it collected over his belly button, mixing with the residue of the cum Jill herself had sprayed on him moments earlier.
Jill fell forward against her son. She'd come twice in his presence now. In no time, the sweet mix of endorphin rush and hot sun made her happy and drowsy. Their bodies lay sticky against each other, cum and sweat intermingling.
"Oh, that felt good," she said, her hands against Jack's strong shoulders. "We need to do that more."
S . . . sure, mom," Jack said. "I want that too." He cradled her, lying naked on top of him, and his hands gently caressed her back.
They lay quiet for a while. Jill broke the silence.
"You took a lot of pictures of me."
"Yeah," Jack said, his voice slurred and uneven. "I did."
"So, do you think your mom's hot enough for those Web sites?" she asked him.
Jack's head swam. He barely understood what his mom was saying. All he could think was that his mom's pussy still was pressed against his spent cock. It was limp for now, but it wouldn't be limp for long. Eventually, the fog in his head lifted, and his thoughts became clearer.
"Forget the Web sites, mom," Jack said. "I want the pictures for myself. I want you for myself."
Jack pulled his mom closer, and they lay naked in the sun together for a long time.
The End.
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