The Mom Memories: William's Story

"Do you want me to pour you some more?" I asked.

"No," she replied succinctly in the husky voice.

The next story started and, like the other movie, this second one built-up more slowly with a more attractive mom-son pair. As the story unfolded, Mom's foot began sliding up and down my lower legs and once in while she used it to leverage her hips closer to me. I could feel the warmth of her womanhood even through the thicker flesh of my ass. When the sexual touching started to get explicit, Mom's hand dropped from my hip, where it had remained since I'd taken her glass, and lightly stroked my stomach. God, she was making me so horny and I couldn't touch her, couldn't even see her.

In the movie, the vacationing family were lying on a remote beach and the son had been rubbing suntan lotion into the mother's back. She had just reached back to undo her top a moment earlier and the father, lying on the side opposite from the son, had just turned his head to face the other way. The son's hand trailed down the mom's back, lightly tracing a line across the top of her buttocks though her brief swimsuit didn't begin until halfway down her cheeks. Back and forth his fingers moved, again and again along the same line until, suddenly, they slowly broke southwards, dipping into the deepening crevice and dragging along until they were blocked by her swimsuit. There they stopped.

Mom's fingers had been stroking up to my chest and down around my stomach in a big oval while this was going on. When the son froze his hand in the mother's cheeks, Mom's hand stopped moving too, about a quarter of an inch above the tip of my cock, now sticking halfway out of my shorts.

The mother, who had been facing down the beach, turned to look at the back of her husband's head. She made no sound or otherwise gave any indication that she was bothered by her son's action, or even aware of it. As soon as her head settled, his fingers pushed lower, reaching under the swimsuit to snag the material, forcing it up the rising swell of her buttocks and then, as his fingers dug through her deepening crack, down the sharper slope to the backs of her legs. He pulled her suit down a little further until her whole ass was bare, quickly ran his hand across, pausing to cup each cheek, and then pushed his fingers between her legs, crooking them back the way they had come, and stopped again.

Mom's hand moved, just slightly, her soft skin sliding down over my cock until its lower edge met the elastic of my jockey shorts. Her fingers closed until they held my cock in a light grip.

The son's hand wormed its way deeper between his mother's legs, pushing up toward her bum until it could go no further. After a brief pause, it started to shake, just a tremor at first but soon vibrating so you could see the both back of the mother's thighs and her cheeks quivering.

Mom's hand squeezed me, hardly at all at first but as the movie son's hand shook more, Mom's worked harder and more frequently. When the son's hand was literally vibrating between the mother's legs, Mom's began to move up and down, jacking me in short strokes. Her breath rasped rapidly across my ear and she hunched her hips so tightly against my shorts I had to brace myself to avoid falling over the edge of the bed.

Abruptly, the father raised his head and turned back to face his wife. The son snapped his hand away to rest in the small of his mother's back as his father smiled at his wife and closed his eyes. Had he looked down while his head was still up he would have seen his wife's bare ass. Amazingly, the son immediately slid his hand back down, repeating his sweep over her buttocks and the pause to cup each cheek before diving between her legs, which his mother had parted to allow more room.

His hand was no longer quivering, it was moving in and out in short thrusts, seriously finger fucking the mother's pussy. Her knees pressed into the blanket, levering her thighs up and cocking her hips to twist her ass up toward her son's violating fingers. Mom gripped my cock harder.

The son's hand stopped, then suddenly jammed in hard, rocking his mother forward. He pulled out then jammed in again, out and then a rapid series of quick finger fucks, then a hard jam, holding it in hard enough to lift her hips up. The mother had turned her head to face away from her husband, gathered the blanket in her hand and pushed it into her mouth to silence her cries. Her son showed no mercy, continuing his hard thrusts with all fingers now jamming in and out of his mother's cunt despite the danger. If his father opened his eyes now, he wouldn't have to raise his head to see what was happening, not with his wife rocking back and forth like that.

But he didn't. The son increased the pace until the mother's legs suddenly went rigid, her knees lifting off the blanket, muscles tensed all the way to her toes that were dug into the sand to hold her ass up. When she collapsed to the blanket, the son calmly pulled her bikini bottoms up to cover her ass again. The scene ended with the sound of Spanish music playing and the mother and father walking down the beach, arms circled around each other's waists, as the son tagged along behind carrying the beach gear. The camera followed his eyes, zooming in on his mother's sexy bottom, to a small damp spot just visible between her legs, then up to catch the mom turning back to look at her son, her beautiful smile changing as she blew him a kiss.

Mom's grip on my cock was almost painful, but it still felt fantastic.

"Wow," Mom exclaimed. "Oh, the next one's starting already. Pause it, pause it." She released my cock and started to get up. "I want to lie in front now," she said, pulling at my arm to drag me out of the way.

Mom moved up on her knees and I slid toward the middle of the bed, taking my time so I could look at her breasts as she passed over me. She had opened her knees to straddle me as she went by but I didn't think to see if her panties matched her nightie until it was too late. I tried to pull the covers up while Mom was still wiggling about trying to get comfortable but she waved me off, saying she was way to hot already. I had to agree.

Finally settled, Mom asked me how to unpause the movie.

"Hit any key," I said, nestling up close to her.

During the next scene I gradually moved closer behind Mom, tickling her arm and moving my hand down to stroke her tummy, and managing to pull her nightie up over her hip to make a thrilling discovery. There were no panty straps around Mom's legs. None. Nada. Totally bare skin!

I must have grown another inch when the discovery exploded in my mind. A minute later I found it necessary to tug my shorts down a bit. I ended up pushing them down over my balls until they were stretched along the bottom of my buttocks just like the woman's panties had been in the movie. This left my erection free to wave around and I was faced with the difficulty of how to resume my position without my bare cock pressing against Mom's bare ass.

Seeing her just as focused on this scene as the last one — it was the same father, mother and son — I tried pressing up against her to see what would happen. After all, I'd already been there with half of myself sticking up above my shorts, maybe she wouldn't notice.

She didn't. At least, she didn't react.

I was in heaven. My hand was stroking Mom's tummy in a large circle brushing from just below her tits to her lower pelvis which was as low as I had the guts to go. It was about where her panties would have started if she was wearing any and, to top it off, my naked cock nudged between her bare ass cheeks! I dared to insert my thumb in her navel and used it as an anchor as I brushed my fingers over her tummy. As Mom became even more engrossed in the onscreen incestous action, I slid my hand up to cup her tits and then rubbed my palm across her nipples.

This time Mom did react: she moaned out loud. My hand happened to be in the middle of her tummy at the time so I was pretty sure it wasn't in reaction to anything I was doing. I looked at the screen. The camera view was just changing and all I could see was the father with two older people who appeared to be his parents, judging by the similarity between him and the older gentleman. They were sitting in a semi-circle in a patio fronting on a small pond, backs to a house further in the distance. The camera view changed again and, judging by Mom's heightened breathing, it was returning to the scene she had reacted to.

The mother was standing by a kitchen counter in front of an open door through which her husband and his parents were visible. She was putting drinks onto tray. Her son was standing behind her, one hand between her legs and up her skirt while the other massaged her breasts outside of her white blouse. He was kissing her neck while his hand did its work under her skirt. The mother was looking worriedly outside at her husband and his parents, clearly afraid they could look back at any time and see what was happening.

Obviously, they could have stepped to the side out of the line of sight through the door but, since this was a porn movie, they did no such thing. The mother looked more and more worried as the son pulled her blouse apart and squeezed her bare tits, working his hand more vigorously behind her. She looked relieved when he pulled his hand away, but disappointed too. The worried look returned when the son pulled her skirt up over her hips and changed to near panic when she felt his probing cock poking between her legs. Holding his rather long cock in his hand, the son rubbed it up and down between her thighs and the mother's face changed again, this time to an expression of pure horniness.

The husband turned his head to the side, as if to listen, and Mom moaned again. This must have been what I'd missed before, the husband turning his head just as the son first pushed his hand under his mother's skirt. There was a sudden bout of laughter from outside just as the son entered his mother and pushed his first thrust home, the mother mouthing a long "oooohhhhh" as she took his long cock inside her. The husband started rising out of his chair and Mom immediately moaned again. The son was ramping up to a very lusty effort and even this imminent danger didn't slow his illicit rear assault.

The mother's eyes were closed now as she concentrated on receiving her son's cock but the son kept his eyes on the father as he pounded his mother. The grandmother had put out a hand to stop the father but he was still half out of his chair. Mom moaned again. Was this a good time for me to try touching her down there?

Recognizing the danger he was in, sonny pulled his mother away from the counter, further back into the kitchen and away from the open door. She dropped, her hands grazing the floor, though her legs were still straight and wide apart as her son continued drilling her. The father stood and turned, walking toward the house. Mom moaned, and I slid my hand down over her bare pussy. The grandfather called out, and the father stopped and turned to listen to his own father while the son rammed furiously into his wife. Mom whimpered. I aligned my long finger with Mom's crevice and pushed it between her lips, forcing another satisfying whimper. Just as the father turned to continue his approach to the house, I slipped my cock between Mom's legs and started rocking against her ass. Mom was panting by the time the father approached the door, and stepped inside.

His son greeted him, just picking up the tray of drinks.

"What took you so long, everyone's thirsty," the father said.

"Oh, we had to wash some glasses," the mother explained, still working on something in the sink.

The father nodded, walking through the kitchen and down the hall toward the bathroom. The camera panned back to catch the son walking down the path, calling out to his grandparents and the mother, shoulders slumped, still standing in front of the sink, a milky rivulet of cum dribbling down the inside of her thigh, almost to her knee.

The scene ended. I stopped moving but left my hand and my cock where they were, hoping if I didn't make their presence obvious, they would be ignored. After a few long seconds, Mom spoke.

"Well, I guess I should go upstairs to bed." The words were disappointing but Mom didn't follow up with any move to go.

"There's one more scene left," I whispered, staying as still as I could, surprised that my tongue, thick as it was, could manufacture intelligible speech.

"I really should go. It's getting late."

"You should just stay and finish, Mom." I didn't say what she should finish, though it was me I had in mind. "Then we can watch a new one tomorrow night." I was whispering by her ear because I knew she liked her ear touched and kissed.

"I don't know, William ... I ...,"

"Shhhhh," I husked into her ear. "It's starting."

We both fell silent and watched as the last scene played out. As the back and forth banter and insinuation built up between a new mother and son, Mom's breathing became quiet and shallow and then shorter and more rapid, as did mine, blowing across her ear. My hands were still until I heard the first, barely audible moan. Glancing immediately at the screen, I saw that the instigation was again the nearby presence of the father. This time, the father had just left the pickup truck and was heading across a gravel parking lot into a country store and while he was treading toward the store his son had slipped his hand under his mother's skirt and was frigging her. When the father paused near the store door, as if he'd forgotten something, half turning back toward the truck, Mom moaned aloud.

I let my fingers move. Just a bit, kind of rocking between Mom's pussy lips. When the father turned back and up the two steps into the store, I began sliding my finger up and down in Mom's slit, matched by slow thrusts with my cock between her hot, damp thighs. When the father was in the store, waiting in line and then talking to the clerk, you could see the mom and son moving in the truck in the distance through the store window. The father never glanced that way but the director was clearly using the possibility to heighten the illicit nature of the scene.

When the father finished in the store and walked out the door Mom really started panting. I slipped my fingers inside her pussy and moved them around, in and out, in a small circle, rubbing her slick walls. She moaned. The father turned the corner, walked to the bathroom on the side of the building, and disappeared inside. The camera closed on the truck. The son pushed the mother onto her side, her head lying behind the steering wheel. Turning sideways himself, he unlimbered a long cock and pushed it into her from behind. I began frigging and fucking my cock through Mom's legs in time with the son's action. Mom was panting loudly now and hunching on my fingers. A few minutes later she actually cried out, clamped her legs tightly on my cock which was spewing liquid onto the sheets, and clutched my hand, pushing it harder into her pussy.

Slowly, we became still, catching our breath together, in silence. Several minutes passed and the movie ended. Several more minutes went by. I pulled my hand away and Mom grabbed it, pulling it until my arm circled her arm and breasts, holding it on top with my hand against the base of her throat.

"Well, it's getting late," Mom said. "I really should go up to bed now."

"Ok Mom. See you tomorrow."

"Dad's taking me out for brunch tomorrow. Do you want to come?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Why don't you come, sweetie?"

"I don't know. You and Dad probably want to be alone."

"We've been together a long time," Mom said. Teasingly, she added, "Anyway, a woman doesn't mind having two men around."

Mom blushed when she said that, perhaps realizing the implications of what she'd said. I spoke quickly, in part to distract her to reduce her embarrassment.

"I'll sleep on it. Can I tell you tomorrow?"

"Sure. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Mom slipped out of bed and grabbed her robe but unlike the night before she didn't linger to showcase her body. She walked quickly to the door, pulling the robe on as she went.

She was gone.

After I cleaned up and changed the sheets, I lay in bed thinking about what had happened. I thought long and hard about how sexy and, well, willing, Mom was in my bedroom but how she acted as if none of the past few nights had ever happened when we were upstairs. It had surprised me and now that I thought about it, it didn't jibe with the way she got excited every time the movie mothers and sons did something when the father was nearby and could catch them. The notion clearly turned her on, yet she wasn't the least bit sexy or flirtatious with me outside of my room. I fell asleep with Mom's voice ringing in my head, 'a woman doesn't mind having two men'.

I was up early but the kitchen was empty so I went upstairs to see if Mom was awake. I pushed their door, which wasn't quite closed, and peeked inside, calling out, "Mom? Dad?"

Mom was in front of her makeup dresser, the one with the round mirror in the middle and lots of little side drawers holding all her jewelry and makeup stuff. She was standing on one leg with the other kneeling on the edge of the bench seat, arms raised to fit an earring. She saw me poke my head in and nodded for me to come in.

Walking toward her, I let my eyes slide over her body, noting the slip she was wearing hid a light weight bra with matching panties underneath but her legs had not yet been covered by pantyhose or stockings. She had nice legs, at least the part visible from the knee down where the edge of her slip just touched the back of her calf. My eyes were drawn to the bottom of her raised foot which, surprisingly to me, caused a stir in my loins when the toes suddenly curled, tensing the muscles in Mom's lower leg.

Dad was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Dad?" I asked as I neared Mom, my eyes passing from her sexy leg to the white, mid-thigh length stockings draped carelessly, sensually, over one end of her makeup bureau.

"Sit," she said, nodding her head toward the bench seat.

I did as she said.

"In the bathroom," she nodded the other way as soon as I sat down, indicating the ensuite.

"Oh," I responded, turning my knees toward Mom. Looking in the mirror, I ran my eyes up her front until I reached her face which was tilted down, eyes regarding my reflection as she struggled with her earring. If she felt one way or another about me openly admiring her body, she didn't let on. I turned further toward her while she was still watching me and ran my eyes back down the real thing rather than the image, concentrating less on her jutting breasts than on the slight rise of her tummy and subsequent fall to the front of her slip-covered panties, the mound they suppressed still evident underneath. I turned back to regard the reflection and saw that Mom was still watching me, looking steadily into my eyes. I couldn't read her thoughts.

Just then, Dad came into the room asking Mom if she'd seen his good cufflinks.

"Oh, hi son," he said as he saw me sitting on the other side of Mom. "Are you coming?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead busying himself moving stuff around on his dresser, then started opening and closing drawers.

"Are you sure you haven't seen them?" he asked.

"No, I haven't seen them," Mom answered calmly, still looking into my eyes.

My thoughts from the night before suddenly welled up and flooded through me, generating a heat flush that spread out until my skin tingled. As if in slow motion, though unstoppable, my left hand lifted from my knee and moved toward Mom. I watched it as if it wasn't mine, wondering what this thing was doing. A drawer closed and after a pause, another slowly opened, dragging out on its rails. The hand was at the edge of the bench seat, on the far side of Mom's knee, between her legs. It pushed under the slip and turned, palm toward me, resting on the inside bulge of Mom's knee.