I woke in the same position. Often, on Thursday night, what she had done left me so exhausted I slept through the night without moving. Her tit was right there so I moved a tiny bit and took her nipple into my mouth. Her warm sweet milk energized me.
As I nursed I brushed my fingertips along the tops of her inner thighs. She parted her legs unconsciously, as she often did. I lightly traced the delta of the mat of her thick, coarse pubic hair.
Her milk calmed me as I suckled. And her body started to respond as my finger traced lower, lightly touching the hard button of her clitoris. I felt her awaken, the subtle changing in her breathing, a new tension in her body.
Her hand stroked my hair and she murmured, "what a good boy."
I suckled and slowly masturbated her. Her hand came down and found me, hard.
Our mutual masturbation lingered long enough that after she had cum, filling my hand with her warm sticky nectar, and I had ejaculated, semen smearing her hand and forearm, and hip, I needed to hurry to make my first class.
We hurried through the shower and I settled for two breakfast burritos snagged from the McDonald's drive-through on my way to class. Friday was a teaching day and once again I vowed to kill my professor who had scheduled those 9:00 classes. But I got through them, carefully protecting my sore ass as well as I could.
My economics class at 2:00 was interesting as we worked the formulas on an eXcel spreadsheet. It turned out, the government was broke but that was hardly a surprise.
Friday night was our night at the Mommy and Me club. She had my short pants, striped T-shirt, white socks, and Buster Brown saddle oxfords laid out.
As I was dressing she asked, "how would you feel about your mom wearing the same thing two nights in a row?"
I thought of her yellow Donna Reed dress and said, "oh goodness, yes."
She drove, of course, and at Mommy and Me, a club she had found that catered to mothers and sons, she ordered me the Chicken Strips and a Virgin Cuba Libre'. She got a Ribeye with a stuffed twice-baked potato, and a pitcher of beer. As we ate I snuck drinks from her beer.
At 8:00 the lights dimmed and the music started. Friday was live music night and tonight was a Beatles cover band.
One of the couples we knew pretty well walked over to the table.
"May I have this dance," Greg asked mom. He and I had been friends since mom found this place, and tonight his mom had dressed him in a suit. The pants were too short as were the sleeves, giving the impression he was going through a growth spurt.
"I'd be honored, sir," mom said, smiling and standing.
I stood too.
Greg's mom, Stephanie I knew although she was always Mrs. Durham to me, was waiting expectantly. She's a well-padded redhead and I always liked dancing with her. She's short and round and fits nicely in my arms. We danced through "And I Love Her" in the classic slow dance position, her right hand in my slightly extended left, my right hand on her hip, and her left hand on my shoulder. When the band shifted immediately into "I Want to Hold Your Hand" I spun her into a passable jive dance.
The evening went like that. Mom and I danced together. Throughout the evening she danced with Tommy, Freddy, and Jamie while I danced with their moms. Well, in Jamie's case I danced with his grandmother, one of those women who lose every fat cell after menopause. She was nothing but skin, bones, and sinew. She asked if I would be interested in being her pool boy in the summer since Jamie was going to be spending the summer with his dad. I told her she'd have to check with mom.
I was pretty drunk by the time they dimmed the lights and called out "last call for alcohol." Mom was too since she asked me to drive.
