Telling Mom

Now my objective was clear, but I didn't really have a plan beyond that. And now that I came to it, I didn't know how to make a move. I mean, striking out with some girl in a bar is one thing. Striking out with my mother would be a disaster. But I guess I am a little lucky because the next morning my mom took control of the situation.

She was late coming downstairs. I was eager to see her and gauge her state of mind, but even though I held off on going inside for breakfast I was there for a while before descended. She looked a little disheveled, like she hadn't slept well. She even seemed a bit annoyed to see me and I wondered if she hoped I'd go back to my apartment. In any case I played dumb and ignored her while she ignored me. I was already in the TV room and had sat with my back to the kitchen. So she had cover while she made her own breakfast. I heard the clatter as she shoved stuff around petulantly, but after a while of me playing hardball she quieted down. Finally, she finished and came to sit on the couch next to me, plate of food in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

I hadn't looked closely as she came down the stairs, but now I got a good look at what she was wearing: an old, loose shirt that looked like it'd been a maroon sweatshirt in another lifetime. It was big, man-sized, and went down so far on her it could have been a miniskirt. My eye was drawn immediately to her bare legs, and before I could help her I'd checked whether she had anything on under it. As she sat down she shifted slightly, and I saw that she indeed had a pair of black sleeper shorts underneath, but I wasn't cautious and she obviously noticed me looking. She looked at me, and down at her food, but didn't say anything. She looked at the TV without watching it, then back down to her food, and back at me.

This totally caught me by surprise. Despite my boldness before, and my definite desire, I couldn't tell what she was thinking at all. She just had a blank expression as she ate loudly. It was almost as if she was making up her mind about something. I tried to casually meet her eyes a couple of times, but her stare was so hard that I chickened out both times and looked back at the TV without uttering a word. I started to wonder if she was daring me to make the first move, and some of my boldness came back. I started to relax, and then I started to fantasize about reaching over and kissing her.

I had no intention of really doing it. But it was like a mental exercise. I gave in to my sexual desire for my mother entirely and let myself be empowered by it. I started with a simple image of me reaching over and her pushing me away firmly. Then one where she gave in momentarily. One where she pulled in wantonly. One where she giggled shyly but didn't pull away. I thought about all these scenarios and gave myself a nice erection. I could feel it, my relaxed cock gradually coming to life. I was sitting semi-cross legged on the big couch, so as I got hard my shorts actually pressed a bit too hard on my hard-on and I had to shift. Without being too obvious, I poked my crotch out for a second in my mother's direction and settled back down. This was the only time she looked at something other than my face, her food, or the television. I saw with the utmost pleasure that she took no pains to hide from me that she checked out my cock, letting her eyes pore over it until she turned once more to me. Making eye contact gain, she fluttered her eyelashes and finally smiled.

"What are you up to today?" she asked. Now she looked down at her food again, and seemed to concentrate on her next bite.

"Not much," I replied, using the opportunity to take her in now. She had both her feet up, curled under her almost in a fetal position as she hugged herself, eating. Now that I thought about it, it seemed like kind of a tense position, but it highlighted an attractive tautness of her body. And, glancing down, I caught another glimpse of her pajama shorts. They were very short, I now saw; almost panties. They looked like soft cotton, and I imagined how they felt. Going back to fantasizing, I imagined touching them. Touching them with my mother still wearing them, with her closing her eyes and moaning softly in encouragement. I imagined her sliding them off....

"In fact, nothing at all," I said, raising my gaze lazily to her face again.

She was taking a bite of food as I spoke, and now she slowed down, keeping her gaze on her fork. She chewed for a while and then reached over to the end table and put her plate down, mostly emptied. She picked up her coffee and brought it to her lips. Tilting back, she took a big swig. Then, she held the cup out to me.

"Wanna sip?"

I took the cup. She was being unusually playful, I thought. But I was very encouraged. By now my cock was full hard, and I noticed as I raised the cup to my own lips that she looked at it again. Not quite a stare, but a pointed look and she made no attempt to hide it. I reveled in her openly looking at my manhood, but actually now I was stumped again. What should I don next? I had let myself her hard enough to wanna cum soon, and now all her moves suddenly seemed less definitive. Did I screw up?

I handed the cup back, and she languidly broke her gaze away from my crotch as she took it. She took another healthy sip, but this time she gave a little moan as she drank. Nothing gratuitous, but it was clear. Not a girlish, delightful squeal; rather an adult and assertive invitation.

She had my attention now, just like she wanted, and she played with her food a little. She put the coffee down on the end table again, shifting her position from defensive crouch to reach over. It almost seemed like she exaggerated how much she had to stick her butt in the air, and it wasn't exactly towards me. It must have lasted a second, if that. But now, up close, in that glorious second I saw her black sleep shorts again. They weren't as small as panties, but not much bigger. Certainly no one would call them modest. They didn't seem very old or worn-out, unlike the sweatshirt, but being cotton they did have that quality of being a bit stretched out and formless. As my mother reached over, the shorts rode up a bit and I saw where her thigh turned into her perfect little round buttcheek.

This was something else. Whereas I'd felt like a player a second ago, fantasizing about my own mother as she sat next to me, now I was losing control. My cock was fully erect, even if I was somewhat hiding it by the way I was sitting. I desperately wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch my mother too, just as much. I was just so horny, I didn't know what I wanted.

My mother looked at me again as she settled down on the couch. She seemed to change her mind and now shifted her legs. Instead of crouching, she kept her left leg up and even leaned her head on it a bit, away from me. Her other leg she let fall toward me, a bit more relaxed with her foot near the edge of the couch. She looked at me, then closed her eyes and sighed deeply. It was a holistic gesture: her entire body seemed to deflate for a second. As I glanced over her entirety on the couch next to me, I suddenly realized: my mother was sitting in her very short pajama shorts next to me, basically spread-eagled and exposed for me.

I took the opportunity. The way she'd been looking at my bulge, I allowed myself to gaze at her crotch. I really couldn't see much, but there was a small part that raised up. I couldn't see under it, but I wondered if she was wearing panties. I sighed too. A small one at first, but then as my sexual desire and the whole situation caught up to me, I let out a deep sigh like the one she had given just a moment before. I looked at her face, and as I did so she opened her eyes.

She studied me briefly before asking, "How did you sleep last night?"

I shrugged non-committally. "All right, I guess."

She closed her eyes and answered, "I could hardly sleep, I was up all night." she began to shift in her seat, half-stretching and half-rolling.

"Yeah?" I said, stupidly.

"Yeah I'm still sleepy. I might go back to bed." She continued to squirm around, like she was trying to find a comfortable spot. In the meantime her legs waved around and then seemed to decide to be in my vicinity. Before long they had settled on my lap and over my hard-on. I froze a bit, but at this point I was getting optimistic, too.

"Well if you're tired..." I managed.

"But I'll feel so lazy!"

"Don't worry, if it makes you feel any better I might go back to bed for a while too." It was a gamble but I figured it was now or never.

It worked perfectly. She pretended to think about it for a second, then closed her eyes and squirmed some more. This time her legs did more than "bump" my erection. She wasn't in the right position for her foot to caress it, but she expertly found it with her calf and then twisted again to come into contact with it again. She gave a soft moan now, almost a purr.

"Hmm, you should come and take a nap with me."

She paused and opened her eyes to look at me. "That way I won't feel so bad for being lazy during the week."

At this point it felt like the hard part was done, so I relaxed a bit. Coming out of my freeze, I curled up a bit myself and put my hand on her bare thigh. Just above the knee, so nothing criminal, but I allowed my fingers to gently caress her skin.

"Ok, sure"

She looked at me one more time, but by then there wasn't anything left to say. She stood suddenly, took my hand, and raised me off the couch. I stood up, not hesitating but actually a little hampered by my hard-on, which made my shorts feel small. My mom didn't notice that, as she was already charging us both upstairs, but it made me happy that I had a big cock ready for my mom. As we went upstairs I got a nice view of her behind in those shorts, but I resisted an urge to try to grab her ass, just smiling to myself.

We reached her bedroom across the landing at the top of the stairs, and she opened one half of the double doors and pulled me into a dark room. Once inside, she closed the door firmly behind us and let go of my hand. As I heard her move off to the side, I looked around, trying to take in the room. The curtains were mostly drawn, making the room a dark gray. I wasn't used to coming here much at all, as it was out of the way in her house. The few times I'd been in here, it always looked spotless, like the cleaners my mother hires had just been through. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen them in a few weeks. In any case, now the room started to come together in my vision, and I saw that it was...actually, kind of messy.

Not horribly disgusting or anything, but a few things piled up on the desk and a few tables. The bedside table was cluttered. But what drew my eyes and held them was the bed: my mother's modest queen-sized wooden frame and sheets and covers that looked like they'd been through a fight. In fact, I noticed no pillows on the bed, one on the floor beside the bed and one poking out from under it.

My mother had walked over to a window and pulled the curtains back a bit. From that angle, now getting close to noon, the light didn't come in so strongly and the room brightened without losing its furtiveness. She noticed me glancing at the bed, and smiled. She huffed a bit, "I didn't sleep much last night, that's why I'm still tired." She walked to the other side of the bed and searched for the missing pillows. I stepped into the room and towards the bed, leaning down to pick up the two I could see. I put them on the bed, and sat on the bed, and that's when it hit me.

Sex. Or at least pussy. This bed, the pillows I was still holding, the sheets, the covers: everything smelled like pussy. As my mother recovered the missing pillows and began climbing on to the bed behind me, I realized my mother must have been feverishly masturbating on this bed. At least over the last few days. I heard a rustle and turned, saw her on her knees on the bed, stretching out like a kitten as she pulled off the sweatshirt, revealing an orange cotton camisole underneath. Its shoulder straps, thin double-strings on each side, drew attention to her toned shoulders but then my eye was drawn to her breasts, small but nicely cupped in the garment. I was gratified to see her nipples clearly through the thin cotton. Her left hand trailed along the bottom, near her belly, as if she considered taking it off but she did not.

She watched me for a second looking at her, then settled down on the bed face up. "Take your shirt off, aren't you hot?" she said, as she shifted a bit and brought one knee up. Her hands went behind her head and she seemed to want to admire me.

That didn't take much convincing, but what about my shorts? Once again, now that it came to it my path became murky? Should I just pull them down and casually lie down and ask for a blowjob? I decided that she seemed to know what she wanted, so I left them on for now. I took my shirt off, and as a final affront I made sure to toss it on top of the sweatshirt she had discarded on the floor. She smiled at that and her eyes followed it halfway across the room as I tossed it, but she came back to me. She leaned back a bit, stretching out and making her midsection rise.

I figured it wouldn't get much more clear than that. I moved toward the bed, climbed in, and moved in towards my mother. I gently put my left hand across her tummy, leaned on my right arm just above her head, and leaned in. Quickly but not aggressively. Assertively but not brashly. I put my lips on hers, and pressed gently, only letting a bit of moisture cross. Leaving her marked like that, I pulled back and looked into her eyes. She looked directly back, perhaps a bit surprised but now seeing an open door.

"I love you, mom," I said.

She smiled, softly but sweetly and I remember her eyes were full of love. Her right hand came up and caressed my cheek."

"I love you, son"