Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
WARNING: Negative annoying-mouse comments
will be exterminated with extreme preditorial!
(Some idiots don’t get it, anonymous comments
of a negative nature will be erased by the author.)
The Risqué Writer’s Rule
Some may decry the confections,
That are my tales for heads and hearts;
Yet despite their imperfections,
They also affect the lower parts;
Remember it’s just erotica,
Never meant to be fine arts!
8==3~ [Have you read my thread?]
“God! I’m so horny!” I just came right out and said it for everyone to hear. In the airport! Of all places to blurt that out loud. I don’t know what prompted me to be so blunt, in so public a place, but the damage was done, so to speak. I had just gotten in for Christmas vacation from college, a sophomore doing well enough. But I hadn’t gotten laid since summer. After starting in a new school I had transferred to, my social life had been the pits. Thus, my hormones were running rampant. So Mr. ‘Blabber-Mouth’ was speaking from his gonads, rather than with his brains.
What startled me even more than my untimely outburst was my mother’s unexpected response. She who was Mrs. ‘Not-in-Public-Please’ said, abet sotto voce, “You ain’t the only one . . .” I looked at her. Rather than chide me for my rude remark, she seemed sympathetic, and if I got the gist of her tone, admitting to being in the same condition! Beyond her, I could see dad making towards the baggage claim area, he hadn’t heard, too far away.
My sister, on the other side of me, didn’t react to what our maternal parent had quipped, so I didn’t think she had caught the remark mom had made under her breath. She did say, “Would you like to make an announcement of that on the PA system, big brother?” So she had gotten what I had inadvertently confessed to.
I was unsure if even I was supposed to have even been privy to my mother’s mention of her lack of sex life. But I was sure, that she had spoken the phrase. I wondered about that little statement, all the way home. Had mom meant for me to have gotten a message, or was she even aware that what she had spoken was picked up by her son’s ears?
Anyway, that was the first ‘sno’ flake if you will. The beginning of something that would develop with increasing scope, grow to surprising dimensions, and culminate in an overwhelming, irresistible outcome.
My dad had to go to work the next day, so soon after we got home, he retired to bed. My sister who was only two years younger than me went to her room to IM her pals on the Internet, but mom stayed down in the den with me watching TV. There was some sort of show about housewives, a reality program that chronicled the desperate conditions they dealt with, like the series on Sunday evenings, but with less plot and no humor. One of the ladies bitched about how she was a golf widow and couldn’t remember the last time her spouse had bedded her. Mom nodded her head and said, clearly this time, “Commuter husbands are even worse!”
We were splitting a large bottle of Rhine wine and the mood was very informal tonight. I was still unsure if I was actually meant to be paying attention to these remarks of mom’s, or if I should just politely ignore them. That choice was decided for me when she turned to me, and looked at me for a few minutes during a long commercial and then said, “Well how’s your love life at the new university?
“Between my new classes, and the dorm rules we have to follow; I’m not getting any . . uh, having any chance to be – lucky with the gals there.”
“I thought you were in a co-ed dorm building.”
“It is, but every other floor are girls and there is no visiting of the opposite sex after ten o’clock. No possibility for any hanky-panky.”
“You mean no opportunities to fuck.” Mom took another sip of wine, then replenished both our glasses.
“It doesn’t matter what the term you use is, there is no socialization after hours between sexes. If you get caught, there’s an automatic two week suspension. Nobody wants to risk that.”
“Hell! Where there’s a will there’s a way! Your dad and I always snuck off to find a good spot, but in winter we would do it behind the upright piano in the sorority house, and several of the gals would act as lookouts for us.”
“Mom, you naughty girl, you!!”
“Just horny, like every other college kid, making the most of every opportunity. Not like now days, Jeez! I tell yah, nothin’ ruins sex like marriage!” She polished off the goblet and poured herself yet more vino. She was feeling no pain that was for certain!
“So . . . you and dad are . . not intimate as often as you used to be?” This was interesting; mom had seldom been as open about private matters as she was now. Did that mean she finally considered me to be adult enough to discuss these matters, at least within a personal family conversation?
“Ever since the doctor put him on that new blood-pressure medication, things have been zilch in the bedroom. The ‘ball-park’ as we used to term it has been instead, the snore-zone. I have pendik escort to sleep in the spare bed in your room some evenings, if I want to get any rest at night. You just might have a co-ed dorm at home; if I can’t take you father sawing wood some night.”
“Sure, mom, anytime, of course. I wouldn’t mind.” But then I thought, wait – what if I want to masturbate, that might put a damper on that activity. I mean, you can’t jerk-off with your mother in the next bed.
“Don’t worry, Honey, I won’t intrude on your space, I can always sleep on the couch, I’ll just get a pillow and extra blanket.”
Now I felt bad for her, I didn’t want to have her be on the sofa, comfortable as it was, even so. “Mom, you’re welcome to share my room if you need to. I don’t snore.”
“But I bet you do other things.”
“You mean, other noises?”
“Noo, . . other – things, you know, guy stuff.”
“Eating, reading?” I wasn’t being dense, but I was still a bit naive, when it came to my mother talking openly on sexual matters.
“Silly, beating your meat, masturbating. I bet you do it quite a lot. I remember all the yellow stains on the sheets I had to bleach out, when you were younger. At least now days, you take out the trash-basket, with the sizable pile of tissue you use.”
Okay, I got what she was implying this time.
She was still speaking, “Of course, if you did, it wouldn’t bother me. As long as it was quiet, I would be asleep, or pretend to be, so I didn’t interrupt your . . . train of thought.” She giggled.
Yikes! Was that a come on, or her just trying to be humorous? “I don’t think that I . . . I mean, if I needed to . . I’d go to the bathroom or down here to the den.”
“Well, what if your sister had to use the toilet, or came down to the family room and discovered you jacking-off? Wouldn’t that be a fine-how-do-you-do? Better you stick it with your old mother, whoops! I mean stick it to your old mom, damn!” she laughed, “Jeez! I meant to say, it’s alright to do it when I’m around, if you have to. You said you were really horny. I wouldn’t want to put out, . . eh . . put you out is what I am trying to say.”
Was she making Freudian slips, or was the wine making her woozy, or was there a more direct message being not so subtly communicated from a frustrated housewife to a randy twenty-year old? I could hardly believe the last, so I decided that it must have been the middle option. Best to play it safe for now, and not play with fire. If I guessed wrong, it would blow up in my face, and could spoil the whole vacation.
I didn’t want to ruin the holidays, just because I got hot-to-trot and made a play for mom, when she was not at all meaning that we should. . could . . I didn’t let my imagination go there, right then. Even though, in truth, it had a few times in the past. Mom was definitely a MILF. She would give the TV babes a run for their money in a beauty contest. I copped-out as my folks would have put it – no! not wussed! – I simply bowed out of the conversation gracefully and said, “Well, I’m tired after the trip, so I’m going to hit the sack. If you want to use the spare bed, that’s fine, mom.” I added without thinking, “I won’t jerk-off without you, I mean, with you there, I’d behave.” Damn, she had me doing it now!
She laughed very loudly, and just waved at me as I left. I went up the two flights on our split level, to my room.
The ‘Snow-Ball’ is often a term for a holiday prom at some schools. I was out of school, between terms. However, this holiday dance which mom and I were engaged in, was just beginning. I had to be careful not to step on her toes. On the other hand, if we swayed too close together, she might feel my manhood poking at her. What the fella can’t tell, under that gown, is how damp his partner’s panties are. Wasn’t there something they once called ‘balling the jack’, and wasn’t that name of the dance sexual innuendo? But who thinks about their mom as their date, or mate, and admits it, even to themselves. I found that I was doing just that, after the chat we had. Ringing in my ears were the words, “You ain’t the only one . . .”.
Sometimes, fortune lends a hand to the inertia of the way things are going. In other words, it gives a force to how the ball is rolling and keeps it in the direction it was already headed. Something might change the direction of events, perhaps an impetus sideways, but did with us. On occasion luck sometimes makes things worse – or better, as the case may be. In this circumstance, fate provided the slope the sticky cluster of carnal crystals was beginning to tumble down. In my hasty retreat, from our erotically stimulating dialog, I had left my half-finished glass of spirits down in the den. Never one to waste wine, I went back after it, once I had brushed my teeth and used the toilet. I stopped on the steps, still in the shadows, as I heard an unusual sound.
In all honesty, I knew what it was; but I was surprised that it was coming from the family room. It was coming from my mother. It was my mom, cumming. Or maltepe escort at least it was her diddling herself. As she had said, ‘a fine-how-do-you-do’. Except, I was not about to say ‘how-do-you-do’ to my mom when I knew what she was doing, which was – doing it to herself. While I was partially hidden by the solid railing, I had a clear view of my mother, and her private activity. I should have crept up the stairs, but I was mesmerized by the sight. Her knees were lifted and the hem had been hiked up to her waist. The top of her gown was pulled down and both beautiful tits were exposed to my gaze. One hand was on her right breast, tugging at the nipple.
Even hotter, and more intimately exhibited, was her hairy delta. The ruddy labia, the dark crevice of her slit, there her fingers were rubbing the whole nest of her sex. The middle digit was delving into her hollow, sometimes joined by a second. It was like a porno scene from a video. Only it was live, my mom, and ten times more sizzling than anything I had ever seen. Mother had her eyes half shut; she was moaning with excitement, and oblivious to my being a secret spectator to the revealing of mom’s juicy genitalia, and her auto-erotic manipulations. I was harder than a Billy-club and my balls were as blue as a cop’s cap.
I watched as my parent showed me how a female went about self-abuse. She was seriously scratching the itch between her thighs, and pinching the rosettes of her boobs, alternating left and right. Things were speeding up and mom was clearly close to her climax. Her sounds had become higher pitched, rising to a whine, and her panting gasps were getting faster. Now her fingers blurred into her hole, and she stared to vocalize words. I heard, “NO! Oh, no! Noo . . . uh, uuhh, oh God yes, Yes, YES, Baby do it! Do it to me! Fuck me! It’s been so long, I need it, AAHH! YEAH! BABY FUCK MMEEE!” I don’t have to explain that she came. She had a huge cum.
I was awe struck, by her scrunched up sweet face, and the powerful aroma of woman-sex-odor, the way her body contracted, her legs closed and opened involuntarily, and how her hips thrust up as if to take in a man’s big member as it plunged into her center. I wanted to be that male, that pounded into this gorgeous female’s vagina. I was shaken by the urge I had to go down the few steps, and ravage her. Give her the fucking she wanted, needed, desired, deserved. But instead, I beat a hasty retreat once more.
As I withdrew up the stairs, I slipped on a step, my knee caught the edge, I let out the tiniest of oaths, “sshitt!” I kept it in my throat, only the faintest sibilant escaped. I didn’t think she could have heard it, or the thunk of my knee on the carpet covering the stairs. In any case, I scurried back to my room and into my bed and held my breath, waiting to see if she followed me, confronted me for invading her privacy, and boldly looking on as she brought herself off.
But there was no barging in, no sound of her coming up the stairs. It was silent. I waited a few minutes, and then had to take action on my own. I skinned down my jockey shorts and gripped my woodie and pumped it only a half dozen times before I shot a spout of sperm into the air, a foot high, I swear! And, I was unable to hold my tongue, as the words I knew were so dangerous, yet so true, escaped my lips. “OH! Yes mom! I love you, fuck me, fuck me mommy, I’m cumming!” At my door, I heard a rustling as someone moved away and they went up to the top floor. I heard a door open and close. Was it mom? It might have been my sister, whose room was on that level too. But I bet it was mother. The ball was rolling.
I expected that if there were to be negative consequences from my inadvertent spying of my mother’s frantic frigging, that it would likely be after my father had gone to the office, as he always did car-pooling early to catch the 6:35 to New York City, and after my sister was out of the house to her VBF’s Angela’s home. But nothing was said. That was fine with me. I did not want to open that can of worms, especially since my willy was one of them, a big one at that, and long too! Rather, mom fixed me some bacon and eggs, and asked if I wanted to go shopping with her, maybe get some new jeans or sneakers. I declined, and said I wanted to see if some of the guys were around. We usually met up at the local donut shop, when we were in town, on break from school.
So the day went by on a normal basis. I did connect with some pals, and we hung out at the mall. Then we went and played video games at one of the guy’s house. Eventually, my sister and I came home to dinner cooking, and when dad was in I picked him up at the train station at 7:45. We ate at half past eight, which was a typical commuter supper hour. Then, all four of us settled in for some prime time television programs. Mom and dad retired about eleven, and sis and I finished an old movie at twelve-thirty. End of day, all to bed and to sleep. Only I couldn’t get to sleep.
I lay in bed, awake and thinking of the evening before, and what I had witnessed. kartal escort As I like to sleep in the raw, I didn’t have to strip off anything to begin to stroke myself. Just then there was a little knock and my mother came in, closing the door behind her. I just had time to pull the covers up and hide my hard-on. She was in her pink nylon nightie, and she slipped into the other ‘spare’ bed. ‘Hi!” She whispered, “Your Father’s sawing away, and I thought I’d take you up on your offer, since tomorrow I have to get up at eight to go shopping for the rest of the Christmas presents.”
Great! Just as I had thought might happen, ‘masurbatus-interruptus’. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. I had made the offer, hadn’t I? So I could survive a night of horniness. But then a thought occurred to me. Mom had cried out, ‘Baby do it! Do it to me! – fuck me Baby!’ However, I was the only one in the family she called ‘Baby’; Dad was Darling, or Dearest. Sis was Sweety, or Sugar. We all were Honey, at various times. But only I was Baby, and also Kiddo as well. Had mom been thinking of me when she had fiddled her fandango last night? Had our rather forthright and titillating conversation been the tantalizing temptation to pull her trigger with me in mind, and did she imagine my plunging in her pussy with my prick?
Suddenly, but not at all surprisingly, I was rigid with desire for her. A vice was clamped to my head above my ears, and my heart was having palpitations in my chest. Mom seemed to have gone to sleep right away. How sound a sleeper was she? Could I just quietly just wiggle my snake until it spit goo, or should I not risk it, and move to the bathroom? I looked at mom, her breathing seemed regular, her eyes closed and her demeanor of a dreamer in repose. But the bedding was down to her waist, and I could clearly see the outline of those wonderful wonder-braless breasts, which had been bared to my delight, last night. I saw them again in my mind’s eye and my hand began to handle my hard-on. It was too hard not to.
I swear to God, there was no way she could have heard me wanking my woodie. But mom opened her eyes, looked right at me, I saw her smile, and then she said, “Did you like the show last night, Baby?”
I froze. I was even more turned on by her remark, but petrified that now the tables were turned. I was stuck by living rigor mortis; I was on the cusp of the need to continue shining my bat, as opposed to abjectly apologizing for my previous sins of sight and turgid transgressions of tonight. What came from my tongue, which had a mind of its own since landing at La Guardia, was, “You knew I was there? Jeez! Mom that was so hot! I can’t help thinking about it. That’s why I’m stroking, even with you in the room, because you turn me on so much!
“Can I see?”
Like a hypnotized man, I drew my blanket and sheet off, and allowed my mother to view my hunk of manhood at full attention.
“You’re beautiful, Baby! Do it for me, show me how you would do it to me. That’s what you’re thinking isn’t it, about balling your mother? Go on, call my name and tell me that you love me, like you did last night, when you went back to your room and had to cum!”
“That was you, outside my door! I thought I heard you. How come you let me watch? Why?” I started to move my fingers on my member as she had requested, I was more than happy to oblige.
“I knew you’d come back for the wine. I wanted to give you something, to help your horny condition be relieved. And, I had to relieve myself too. I haven’t had it for so long, and the thought of you thinking of me got me so hot, that I was overcome with desire for my own son. We couldn’t ever do anything about it, we must never cross that line, but we can look and not touch, we can fantasize and have fun can’t we?”
“And this is for your horny condition, mom? Why don’t you take off your nightgown and do it with me? We can watch each other as we touch ourselves and bring ourselves off!” I sat up and swung my legs down, to sit before her with my penis pointed right at my mother. I couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like a fantasy, a dirty story I would read, but it was real. My mother was lifting up her shift and showing that she had no undies on, she whipped off the wisp of fabric and was now as naked as I. She sat on the edge of the bed, one arm in back supporting her. She spread her legs and fingered her cunt as I cranked on my cock. We fell into a rhythm, our movements in simpatico, our eyes looked into one another’s, and then to each other’s genitals. Her tips were points of pink topped with red berries. My dick head was a purple plum.
I felt my head burst, like a melon smashed to the pavement. My shaft began to shoot an arch of cream toward mom. Her hips humped in my direction and we echoed our cries in a ragged duet of mews and groans, “Yes mom! – Yeah Baby! – I’m fucking you mommy! – I’m cumming with you, Baby! – Yes! -Yes! Now! – I am! I’m cumming!!” I don’t know where my squirt landed, but I could see a big wet spot where mom sat. I held out my arms for her to be hugged, she closed the gap, and I stood and we clenched our nudity together, like we were Adam and Eve, before the Fall – and the conception of sin. But of course, sin was very much in the middle of our clinching.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32