Finally home after work, there was no discussion or suggestive comments by Mom that evening because about an hour before quitting time, the boss informed my crew to expect some voluntary overtime, and he knew that I would not turn down the extra money. A late arrival at home reduced supper to a sandwich followed by a shower. Head on my pillow, Mom's words to me the previous morning, "We need to talk," navigated my waning imagination to a serious-minded sit-down with my mom in which she would set rules and limitations about our newfound morning activity. Minutes later, sleep.
My slumber must have muted my dad's morning bathroom racket because I awakened to Mom's voice and a few squeezes on my calf which were quickly followed by her folding the sheet and blanket off of me toward the foot of the bed.
The same length of her short slip the previous morning, the hemline of her loose-fitting green and white robe, her college colors, exposed that part of her that I was eager to see and touch the most. The top half of the robe disclosed no buttons, and even a drowsy morning eye could detect that Mom had not concerned herself with panties or brassiere.
Standing beside my bed and turning off my alarm clock before it announced the morning, Mom looked down with a delightful expression on her face and questioned, "No underwear last night? I get to see you soft? Mommy will take care of that!" When the sheet had passed across my exposed cock and I partially arose to get out of bed, her left hand instantly applied downward pressure to my chest.
"We still need to talk but stay there. I want to do this," she said, accentuating the word "want."
My gaze fastened to her unprotected pubic hair while my right hand sprinted downward to indulge my now hardening sex meat, but she blocked it. House robes were not supposed to be that short, which prompted my original intent to let her watch another one of my performances.
"I want to do this," she repeated. "Mommy wants you soft so I can make you hard, and Mommy has wanted to play with this weenie for a long time."
Weenie? Damn, I hadn't heard her say that word since before primary academy.
Unfettered, her eyes were not looking at mine but focused on my exposed cock now embraced by her curled, active fingers. Mom slowly fondled my boner, and it grew while I reached to feel and caress her soft thighs that helped frame the profound circumference of her pussy. I did not pick up on the expressions "camel toe" and "puffy pussy" until years later. Mom's enticing legs were still not far enough apart to allow me full access to her most secluded womanhood.
My beautiful mother did not stroke me up and down as I was wont. Instead of perpendicular to my torso, she pointed my cock almost parallel toward my chest to, I assume, get a better view and touch of my accompanying testicles, or maybe it could have been as simple as, she liked it that way. I felt her hand around my rod as well as her fingers touching my stomach as she pumped me. She seemed fascinated with some form of touching and pleasing my entire package.
The morning event was not all about me. Mom's legs were stunning. A 37-year-old woman's shapely legs embrace a different perspective when a man is granted the privilege of looking up those legs and seeing his objective, his woman's sex. Brown hair, full but not long, covered her slit.
"Touch," she whispered, as she guided my fingers to her bush, "but not inside yet." The added "yet" instilled hope in my desires, but I was content to follow her instructions.
"Does my hand around your cock feel better than your hand around it?" she asked, as Mom continued to stroke my cock, her fingers intermittently grazing over my ball sack.
"Yes. I love this," was all I could come up with.
"Say 'Yes, Mommy.' Call me Mommy," she murmured.
"Yes, Mommy. I love this," I quickly responded, "Your hand-fucking is the best."
"I still like watching you do it, and I want more of that too," she said without interrupting her attention to my cock.
Mom then instructed me to talk to her, to tell her exactly what I was feeling, and she added, "I love watching you cum. You are so grown up."
Those words launched a wave of pleasure straight to my sack. Mom had been telling me about how grown up I was long before my graduation. My knowledge of that made me feel confident around her, in the classroom, and with my occasional girlfriends, but now, feeling her skilled hands and seeing her focused on my solid piece of meat, the term "grown up" had a richer meaning.
I interpreted her request for me to talk as a clear path to talk about sex. I began to talk about giving her the same type of pleasure but using expressions like "bush," "fuck your pussy," and "finger fucking." She was not offended by that language but smiled when I expressed those words.
I had previously considered going down on the only girl I had ever engaged in sex with, but it never materialized. Some of the photos in my buddies' magazines did not omit pictures of young men with thick, long cocks and tongues that busied themselves with muff diving. A few times I even got excited looking at those hard dicks, but I never stepped in that direction.
"Does your pussy like tongue?" I asked. Mom did not answer, but she kept smiling, her strokes became faster, and her left hand moved to her pudgy sex box, brushing aside my hand and covering her slit. Mom's legs parted more, and her index and middle fingers became busy rubbing her pussy, then sliding inside and reappearing, side-to-side repetitiously across her wet pussy lips. That motion and her verbal reaction to my words sent me into orgasm with my eyes locked on her wanton fingers dancing around and inside her vagina, not noticing where my cum was landing. The sex sounds her fingers made predicted her soon-to-arrive orgasm.
"Oh fuck" were Mom's words when she bent over my stomach, her tits smothering what was left of my rigid penis, while her left hand still moved over and around her vagina to facilitate the last remnant of her utter satisfaction. She lay there, still, for a few seconds with no concern about the warmth or wetness of my sperm sandwiched between her and my stomach.
