My Beautiful Mother

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There has never been a doubt in my mind as to who the most attractive woman in the whole world is. My answer has always been the same: it’s my mother. She’s beautiful, although maybe not to you, she is and always will be to me. It’s her hips you see, they’re — well, they’re incredible. They’re perfect in the way they flair from her waist and create the most beautiful pair of ass and legs you’ll ever see. I suppose that’s why I’ve always been an ass-man myself.

It wasn’t long into my teen years when I began fantasizing about my mother, and it wasn’t long after that when I began sneaking peaks at her in the shower or at other opportune times when I thought she might not be looking. She was too beautiful to ignore, and her loving supportive nature was something I’ve never had the privilege of experiencing with anyone else.

When I turned eighteen, she was still the subject of most of my late-night masturbation fantasies, and I still lusted after her and stole glimpses of her whenever I could. It wasn’t a difficult to do. It’d been just the two of us for a long time, and I knew her habits and routines better than she did herself. My father, if you could call him that, hadn’t called since they divorced when I was 5, which was fine with me because I knew I could always rely on my busy but wonderful mother.

The summer before my freshman year of college was one of pure possibility. Freed from the confines of school — I had always been a hard-working student and it was rare for me to find trouble — I felt more willing to indulge in my whims and desires than ever before. Maybe that was just a part of getting older, but in my mind the barriers once put in place no longer existed, and I began taking more risks than I would or did normally.

Those risks extended to the realm of sex, which although I had had little experience with, I had managed to accomplish by the end of my junior year with Becky Oberland — an almost exact replica of my mother. We had indulged ourselves quite a few times between then and now, and managed to remain child-free, but broke up before the summer started with promises of a continued friendship through college. Needless to say, after a few months, I was more than horny.

It wasn’t until after graduation that I started masturbating with my door half open at night, worried that my mother might catch me, but almost hopeful she would. I couldn’t help it, and I began seeking relief while I was in the shower too, and beşiktaş escort afterwards, with my bulging cock still half erect, I’d walk around the house in a thin towel while my mother tried her best not to notice.

But she did notice. I could see her nipples grow and press against the front of her shirt, and she had this funny way of wiggling her hips whenever her eyes happened to glance down at my half-erect penis. It wasn’t spoken about, these games we were playing, but we both knew we were playing them and from what I could see we both enjoyed them.

She began leaving the door open while she showered or wandering in “to take the trash out” while I was taking mine. We had a thin shower curtain so we couldn’t see anything, but both of us could hear the thrill in the other’s voice as we would speak in short sentences to one another and pretend we weren’t excited.

That went on for a few weeks before both of us began upping the ante. I’d leave the door open, and step out of the shower naked, pausing and letting her pretend not to see me before reaching for my towel. She did the same, and I was greeted to more than a few glimpses of her naked wet sensual body, fresh out of the shower.

I began masturbating with my door half open during the day as well, and I noticed my mother would find excuses to be upstairs and pass by once or twice while I did it. Those sessions didn’t last long and before she could make a third pass, I’d be moaning her name under my breath as I pumped rope after rope of hot sticky cum onto my hand and towel. (I always handed these towels to my mother afterward for laundry, and I swear I caught her smelling them more than once, but I can’t be sure).

At night I began hearing her moans from down the hall. I knew she was making herself cum, and probably thinking about my while she did it. On one or two occasions I made my way to her door and pumped my cock while I listened to her orgasm, but never worked up the courage to go in; afraid to cross some invisible boundary of decency I still believe we possessed.

Halfway through the summer both of us were in a constant state of arousal. We couldn’t be around one another without the signature marks of shortened breathe, difficulty speaking, and bulging sex organs. At some point it began to get old, and although I knew it was wrong, I began wondering when I’d be able to act on these animal urges.

I didn’t have to. My mother beşiktaş eve gelen escort did it for me.

One day, coming in from mowing the lawn, I noticed the bathroom door was open again. It wasn’t an unusual part of our game, but as I turned the corner and went to take a look I noticed something different — she hadn’t moved the shower curtain…

Lust filled my already aroused body. I had been thinking about her for years — masturbating to her image since I’d been a boy, and now, right in front of me, her body was on full display. My cock hardened, pushing itself against the fabric of my shorts, and daring me to ignore it. I knew I shouldn’t have been looking, incest is forbidden in all polite society, but my urge to stare overcame any resistance I once had and I stood, mesmerized at the sight of her while she washed her wet glistening skin.

I watched her hands travel over her body — moving over her hard nipples, then up to her neck where they stayed for a second before dropping to the gap between her thighs. I watched her pause. She was thinking about something, unsure if she should indulge herself. She did, and in a subtle motion she spread her legs and squatted a bit as her fingers began to manipulate her beautiful pussy. She played with herself for a while, moving them back and forth from her pussy to her asshole, teasing each one, and torturing me.

She was going to make herself cum. She wanted sex.

So did I.

My buckle flew apart and my pants opened. There was no way to stop now. I watched them fall to the floor and saw my hand running over the ridges of my perfect cock. I masturbated myself for a minute with my eyes closed, then I remembered where I was, and returned my gaze to my mother.

She was bent over now and grabbed the wall with one hand while the other was between her legs. I pumped — she played. I watched her fucking her pussy hole with one of her fingers and imagined my cock pushing inside of her. I imagined what it felt like to be behind her, to feel the soft folds of her pussy rubbing against my cock. It was thinking about her pussy that made me want to fuck. Now I had to cum.

She must have felt the same. Her hands moved again, and now both were occupied as her face pressed against the wall of the shower. Her mouth was open, and her eyes closed.

“Jake!” she cried, “Jake, please fuck me!”

I stared at her.

“Fuck me jakeyyyyy!”

Her beşiktaş grup yapan escort scream set me off. She knew I was there. She knew I was watching. She knew I was masturbating right outside. And she didn’t care.

I exploded with lust, my cock raging for her wet cunt.

“Fuck!” I cried as my cum splashed against the wall, “Fuck!”

She turned around.

Our eyes met as she stood and shutting off the water to the shower, stepped out and approached me.

Her eyes said what her mouth didn’t need to.

“I know,” she said, resting her hand against my lower stomach as the last remnants of cum dripped from my cock.

She kissed me on the forehead before making my cock hard again with her mouth, sucking the leftover cum and licking my balls.

“Mommy knows,” she said in her sweet sultry voice, “mommy knows what you want.”

“You want mommy’s cunt, don’t you?”

“You want to taste mommy’s pussy, don’t you?”

“You’re a dirty boy, aren’t you?”

“You’re going to cum for mommy now.”

“Cum for me baby.”

I was about to explode in her mouth.

“Yes, that’s it,” she said between blows, “cum for your mother you dirty boy.”

“Mommy wants it too.”

“Mmmm,” I groaned, “Mmmm — mmmm — mmmm.”

Rope after rope of sweet sticky fluid filled my mother’s mouth. She struggled keeping down, spilling some on the floor.

“How about that,” she said, still stroking my penis, “mommy’s boy made quite a mess.”

She smiled and getting up from her knees grabbed a towel from the closet, leaving me stunned and in silence. Her motions were still nurturing and sexy as she cleaned me up and giving me a hug said, “You don’t need to hide it anymore baby.” Then she whispered in my ear, “mommy’s here for you. Whenever you need.”

It wasn’t long after that we began fucking three times a day. I’d pound her pussy from behind and make her groan and moan for me. I found out she had wanted to fuck me for a long time and once while I was fucking her she admitted to sucking the cum from the towels I used to give her after masturbating. She was mine and I was hers, and knowing we needed more time to explore one another, I decided to wait a year until going off to college.

I’ll end the story here. It’s getting somewhat lengthy, and I don’t want to spoil anything in terms of how we’ve come to express ourselves through sex. (I’ll save that for another story). Suffice to say, her moans and groans made, and still make me, more than satisfied, and her sexy body and filthy mouth make my cock and I happier than we knew possible. I don’t know if we’ll ever stop. We’ve talked about it, and we’ve even managed to abstain for a few days, but in the end, we always end up back in one another’s arms, and beds.

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