Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

Mom turned her head to the side, then, after a deep breath, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and stepped her right foot sideways, spreading her legs. The point of her pussy stood out with her legs separated and her cunny lips spreading, finding room to breathe and looking much fuller than they had downstairs. I snapped a picture, and I lowered the phone, finding an angle that gave me the best shot of the inside swells of Mom’s ass that I could see when looking between her thighs.

“Enough?” Mom asked, her voice tight.

“Could you turn around,” I said, making my question a statement. “And grab onto something.” I licked my lips. “Lean forward, I mean.”

Mom’s jaw tightened, and the muscles in her neck rippled. She turned around, giving my eyes the freedom to roam over her ass. The closest thing for her to grab onto her was her chair. With her legs against the seat’s edge, she leaned forward, her arms coming up and her hands resting on the headrest, the stance pushing her butt toward the camera.

“Spread your legs a little,” I said, breathing hard.

I felt like a pervert for making my mother do this, yet, I also felt a thrill lighten my body, making my shoulders dance and my breath shudder. How could something so wrong make my dick so hard?

I loved it.

I hated it.

I didn’t want it to end.

“Perfect,” I whispered. “Mom, that’s the perfect pose.”

Mom’s legs had tightened, the curve of her hamstrings created a sensual rise and fall that partitioned her cheeks from her legs, giving the hint of athleticism to her otherwise slender body. The bottom of her cheeks had spread, creating the illusion of a curtained window focusing on the tight band of white cloth pressing into her slit, forming a from-behind cameltoe that made my mouth water. I saw dampness there, between her legs, spreading outward. Above, where her gusset narrowed into her G-string at her perineum, I saw the rounded edges of her asshole, leading downward into a hole covered by a thin string of nylon.

“Take the pictures,” Mom said, her voice tight and her breathing measured.

I snapped two pictures. I took the first one with a wide lens, keeping my mother’s entire body in the frame, along with her chair and the window at the side of her desk. The next one, I zoomed in on the precious piece of meat between her legs, making sure to capture the dampness of her panties and the impression of her clit. After the second picture, Mom stood, turned around, and sat in her chair, crossing her right leg over her left.

“Run along now,” she whispered as though I were a kid again. “I have to work.”

I noticed fresh sparkles of sweat along her brow before I said, “I’ll see you soon.” I left her room, my cock swinging as I turned my body around. I hoped her eyes flickered down to my crotch one more time. She had to know her teasing wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy me. She had to know, and so the question was: How was I going to tell her that I needed more from her?

I went back to my room to think about that, coming up with a scenario where I walked into her office with a speech in mind, to allowing her to catch me masturbating face to face, to–to weird, surreal fantasies that bordered on science fiction. In the end, I jerked off to Mom’s pictures–making it last as long as I could–fisting several wads of cum into a towel, and then I went downstairs to wait for my mother’s first break of the day.

It took forever, despite having edged myself for an hour to her photos. I filled the second hour with pacing, foot-tapping, regular jerks of my cock, and releasing the anxious waves of energy coursing through my body with push-ups, pull-ups, squats, and lunges. That last hour convinced me of one thing: I was going to put my mother’s determination to keep me from the sex offender’s list to the test as soon as I saw her again. I wasn’t fucking around anymore. I needed pussy, and the pussy that I wanted answered to the title of Mom.

It was nearing noon when my mother came downstairs. She had changed from her T-Shirt into a small but loose, cropped, white tank top made of cotton. Her nipples were thick buds against the fabric. The hem of her shirt hung off her little breasts, baring her stomach from her sternum down and back to those tiny panties again. The whiteness of her outfit made her golden skin and hair shine, along with that small tuft of hair poking out above her G-string.

I lay on the couch opposite the TV, on its left side, the side that allowed me to look up the stairs as my mother walked downward. She saw me watching her, but I’m positive what she saw was me waiting for her in that way I used to wait for my parents when I knew that they were taking me somewhere fun, with fast rides and cotton candy and every treat that a growing boy wanted to get his hands on. Now, though, the treat I wanted was my mother, and her cheeks reddened as my eyes locked onto the pouty pussy between her thighs. (Would teasing me always embarrass her?) The thought made my knob swell.

“Hey,” I said, “good to see you.”

Mom rolled her eyes as she said, “It’s good to see you too.”

I looked down at my shorts and the growing tent, but I don’t think that’s what Mom meant. Hopefully, she looked as well because I gave her at least ten seconds to follow my eyes as my erection sprouted to its full hardness in front of her.

“Talk to me,” Mom said when she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Follow me around while I do things.”

“Yeah,” I said, standing and my cock bobbing as I walked around the couch and stopped in front of her. I topped her by a head while being twice as broad as her, and her smallness sent a tingle through my cock.

It was a strange thing to notice; our size difference, but while my mother was still Superwoman to me, she was also a woman. A very sexy and desirable woman, who now may have been attainable for me. The knowledge took away some of the fear I had for my mother’s authority. When she was teasing me, she wasn’t Superwoman; she was… pussy.

I shivered.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Walk with me,” Mom said, walking toward the kitchen.