Note: All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age. Additionally, I do not condone spying on loved ones, especially for the purpose of sexual gratification. It is simply an element within the story as a part of character development. Thank you and enjoy!
October.
It's been a month since I began my perverted quest of spying on my mother every chance I get. As pitiful as that sounds, I have made some significant improvements to my mental health...in a way. Since I now have an active point of focus, I haven't drifted off in a surreal daydream in a while, which has greatly improved my academic performance, too. Ms. Lancaster hasn't found the need to keep me after school.
With that, however, I have fallen into a deeper, longing obsession with my mother. I have successfully peeked in on her multiple times:
- Her sleeping, with the sheet barely covering her. Looking so peaceful. It took a lot for me not to crawl into bed with her and pull her close.
- After the shower, with just an old t-shirt over her head (apparently, it's gentler for your hair than a towel? I don't know. It's just what she told me one day.) Seeing her walk about her room without a care in the world. Tits lightly bouncing with every step.
- Watching her getting dressed, which has become one of my favorite things to see. Almost every movement, so sensual and graceful. With every article she adds on, she checks herself in the mirror, adjusting it this way or that way, before moving on to the next piece of clothing.
- And finally, I even braved entering her room when she was in the shower once.
I was lucky. Her back was turned away from the mirror, because had she been facing the other way, she would have seen me crouched on the floor of her bedroom plain as day. This was the first and only time, so far. I'll need to be careful with the shower peep show.
But, oh...what a show that was! Her shower is encased in clear glass and is well vented, the steam hardly fogging up the glass. She was running her fingers, slick with conditioner, through her dark, wet hair. Droplets of water cascading down the channel of her lean back down to her gorgeous, round, behind. Oh, that ass! That incredible ass! Never fails to catch my eye as she walks away.
She started to turn, reaching into the stream to rinse her hands, and I was rewarded with a nice side view of those mouth-watering tits. I snapped a quick mental image before I scampered out of her room, avoiding being caught in the mirror. I hurried to my room, closed the door, dropped my shorts, and jerked my throbbing cock with the fresh image of my nude, wet mother in mind.
Two minutes in, and I was ready to cum. I quickly grabbed an old towel I had for the sole purpose of capturing my cum, and I let loose. I pretended I was cumming all over mom's tits. Several shots of cum exploding on her, hitting her neck, her chin, her nipple, and I just imagined it all dripping down her soft, tan skin. An extremely pleased, and happy look upon my mother's face.
Exhausted, I balled up the towel and tucked it back in the corner of my closet and threw my shorts back on, ready to enjoy a cozy evening cuddled up to my soon-to-be scantily clad mother.
We watched a few re-runs of a sitcom, followed by a late-night show before turning in. I jacked it once more to the feeling of her tits pressing against my arm, separated only by a thin tank top, before falling into a great night's sleep.
With the summer weather getting cooler in the last few weeks, she took every chance she could to jump in the pond. To avoid her getting suspicious, I did join her at least half the time. She never skinny dipped with me around, but I was still enamored by her in her swimsuits. With her being a fairly successful co-owner of a boutique, she is incredibly talented when designing and crafting clothes. Most of her wardrobe was made by her. So, when I say that her swimwear fit her like a glove, I am not exaggerating in the slightest! Everything is custom fitted to her.
And whether it's her preference, her slightly rebellious/carefree nature, or something else in her personality entirely, her swimwear never had any sort of cups, lining, gussets, or really anything to hide her nipples, or even her sexy cleft, from protruding through the material. Whatever the reason, I just try to not make it obvious that I'm staring at her pokies.
On the days I declined to join her, I waited a few minutes after I heard the back screen door close before running to the loft in the barn. Every time, without fail, I'd scope her out, through the binoculars I had stashed away, and watch as she stripped down to nothing. I just enjoyed jerking it to her swimming, tanning, and even rubbing one out herself on a couple of occasions. Those moments led to some very welcoming dreams of us masturbating together.
The first one I recall; --- we were together on the couch. Her legs spread, one hand pulling aside her black thong, while a finger circled her clit, and her other hand inserting a couple of fingers, all while gazing at me jerking my cock for her. She had one of her tits pulled out from her tank top, her button-like nipple hard, surrounded by a swollen areola. ---
The second dream; --- I was heading to bed and walked past mom's room. The door was cracked, her bedside lamp was on, and she was moaning softly. I crept up and peered in. She was nude, lying on her back, her head thrown back as she played with a vibrating wand.
I dropped my shorts and started masturbating with her. Then, suddenly she looked right at me through the doorway and...smiled! With a free hand, she gave me the "come hither" finger and I complied. Stepping out of my shorts pooled at my feet, I walked in just as nude as her, my hard-on leading the way.
She told me to stand at the foot of her bed and jerk it for her. She never let up on the wand, now doing figure eights around her clit. Again, I complied, and started stroking my cock. Our eyes locked on to one another.
"Mmmm...tell me when you're close," she said in a sultry, yet motherly, voice.
Not too long after, I felt my balls tighten.
"I'm almost there, mom!" I called out, gasping as my hand pounded away.
She scooted to the edge of the bed, a leg on either side of me. I felt the final surge before it released, and mom turned the wand from her clit and set it right under my balls, pushing up.
