Eye of the Appreciator

His fingers, slick with her juice, dipped inside of her.

Loving the feeling of fullness, she moaned out loud and spread her legs wider. The rest of her control totally vanished.

She was accepting it now. Willing it. Wanting it. This is okay. I touched him last night. Now he can touch me. It's only fair.

His right hand lifted upward on her hip and she obediently swung her leg over his torso, straddling him. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at his handsome face, his desire evident. She brought her lips down to his, kissing him deeply. Their tongues instantly clashing, fighting to get into the other's mouth.

His fingers left. She felt momentarily empty, wanting nothing more than to be filled again. But he was only trying to remove her panties. His fingers would be back soon.

Yes! Undress me, unwrap your Mother! She helped him drag her thong down her thighs, then lifted her knees off of the mattress one at a time to kick it away.

Now fully available, she straddled him again, feeling one of his hands return to her lower lips and press inside while the other pushed his pajama pants down to his knees.

She pulled her robe apart, then hooked her left hand behind his head, mashing her tits into his face. He took them into his mouth, loving them. The sensation of being sucked fired electricity all the way to her toes. Had she ever, in her life, been this horny?

His fingers left her again. No! Bring them back. Pleeeaseee, they felt so good. Suddenly they returned to her, filling her so wonderfully full, even more full than before. Feeling so much thicker. How were they so deep? No, something was different. Both of his hands were on her hips, holding her tight. Then what was inside? Oh, no! It couldn't be his- Yes, it was! But she couldn't let him do that! She would pull off of him! She would tell him to stop!

She opened her mouth and desperately cried, "yes, fuck meee!!!"

Fuck me, take me! Finally, it was real. She was committing true incest. Her son's cock scratched the deep, dark itch that she had been carrying all these years. Finally she was having the incestuous fuck that had owned her fantasies. It's true. It's really true. It's real. It can be done.

Sandra held herself above him, letting him fuck up into her. Yes, you can have me! Show me your need! She relished the feeling of his hunger.

Unable to withstand the pleasures of his Mother's womanhood, he came quickly, gushing his spunk into her, filling her up as she fell against his chest, panting and moaning his name. Her own satisfaction had not come from the orgasm she'd had, but from her sense of his desire for her. His frantic thrusts had communicated everything she had wanted to know.

They caught their breath. Both recovering at the same time. Without speaking, he kicked his pants off and peeled her robe off her shoulders, rolling her over onto her back. She quickly brought her knees up high, close to her chest and opened herself to him again, now liberated to do so anytime he wanted her. She felt no shame in raising her hips off of the bed and spreading herself wide, lewdly showing him both of her orifaces, wanting him to truly see his Mother.

His mouth hung open as he stared hungrily at the offer before him. Hastily, he leveled his still-hard prick and guided it into her waiting pussy once again. He fucked her slower now, taking his time to enjoy the sensation rather than rushing to a much-needed finish like before.

Sandra hooked her hands around her thighs from the outside and pulled her knees apart for him while rubbing up and down the bottom of each of her legs. She offered him encouragement in the form of moans and coos as he worked her.

"Ooo, yes, baby. Deeper. Go deeper into me. Deeper into your Mother!"

He pulled out part-way through his orgasm, leaving the first three bursts of son-seed painted onto her cervix, while spraying the rest of it all over her holes and belly. She moaned her appreciation as he painted her, giving her a glaze finish along with her cream pie center.

"Mmmmmmm, good job, Darling." She lovingly rubbed his face.

He plugged himself back into her again and collapsed forward, exhausted. Their mouths met and, for a long time, they passionately kissed one another with great tenderness.

She was free now, free to fuck her own family without fear. Free to give herself the way she'd fantasized. Incest was real. She'd always known it. It really could be done. The boundaries she had lived with all these years had only ever been self-imposed, and now they were shattered.

Before finally drifting to sleep in the early morning hours, she thought of her father. How she would catch him gazing at her young body so long ago and how hot it had made her. How distant they had become after she had moved away for college and how she had longed to reconnect with him but never knew how. She knew that she would be giving him a call soon now that she was free to properly repair their relationship.

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Part 2

I sensed that our day of flirting at the mall was special and that Mom wasn't going to act like that all the time so I didn't try anything with her for the rest of the week. No touching and no flirting. I decided to stick with my plan of starving Mom of attention until she gave me an invitation. It would be good to show her that I could respect her boundaries.

I ended up working on Saturday to make up for my day off, so I wasn't even at home while Dad was out golfing. I stayed downstairs in my room most of the day on Sunday and on Monday I returned from my martial arts class to find my parents both in bed with their door closed. When Mom arrived home from her Tuesday night pottery class I, myself, had already retreated to the my basement bedroom.

During this time I continued doing a lot of chores around the house, especially keeping the kitchen clean. Even if I wasn't getting any action, I still wanted to help out. I didn't like seeing Mom slave away for us and I really felt bad for her after finding out how Dad treated her. A woman like her really did deserve better. However, I didn't touch Mom or give her any compliments at all. No lingering glances, comments, light touches, nothing. When Mom decided that she wanted the attention, all she had to do was invite it.

An entire week passed like this, as if Mom and I were totally back to a "normal" relationship.

The following Wednesday night I awoke just after midnight to hear faint voices coming from that vent again. I didn't need to get the ladder and spy on them. I already knew everything. I couldn't tell what they said, only the tone of voice. Mom was upset and frustrated. Dad was apathetic and distant. Same as ever. I went back to sleep.

And Mom's invitation came the following evening.

I was in my room doodling while Mom prepared dinner. When it was ready she came downstairs to get me, knocking on my door and popping her head inside. "Dinner's ready, Tyson," she softly said.

"Okay, Mom I'll come right up," I said. I happened to glance up at her and saw that she was wearing one of the outfits from our day at the mall - the high-waisted burgundy skirt. I couldn't stop myself and my eyes lingered on her legs and then hips for a few extra moments.

Mom caught me and smiled, turning slowly and casually walking away. Her hands slowly slid up the back of her thighs and over her butt as if she knew I was still looking at her. "There's no rush, honey," she said.

I didn't dare let myself think that she'd worn that skirt just for me. Until I saw how she behaved at dinner.

Part way through the meal, Mom got up to retrieve another beer for Dad. It would be his fourth. He was in the middle of some rant and paying very little attention to the two of us. When she walked behind me, she let her hand brush across my shoulder as she passed me, twirling my hair for a moment and then sliding off of the opposite shoulder. She set the beer down in front of Dad and then looked over at me. She didn't smile, her eyes just bore into mine for a moment. Then I felt her foot against my shin. It slid up to my knee and then back down again. She pulled her foot away and it was over. It was quick, but I knew what it meant. I was allowed to try something.

I acted normal until dinner was over and Dad had gone to the living room to finish another beer and play with his phone. Then I helped Mom clear off the table. I watched her for a few seconds as she started to do the dishes. Dad couldn't see us from where he sat on the couch and I realized that I now had the chance I'd been waiting for.

Remembering how hot she'd gotten the last time I'd touched her near Dad, I decided to test my theory.

I put my hands on her shoulders, rubbing them affectionately.

"Let me help you, Mom."

"Oh, thanks, honey. You're so sweet."

My hands kept rubbing but now dropped to her sides and low back. She stopped scrubbing the pot and looked forward out the window.

I put my hands on her sides, dropping them down to rest on the swells of her hips. Then I brought my face close to her and kissed her cheek, then her neck.

"Your father-," she began to say. Her soft voice didn't travel far.

"Is in the living room," I finished, needing to whisper to keep my voice from traveling.

"He might come back."

"He might."

My hands slid from her hips onto her ass, kneading it in my palms, squeezing it possessively. God, it felt good. Mom had a wonderfully meaty bottom.

"So you should stop," she told me, as she pushed her rear end toward my greedy hands.

I started to bunch the skirt up in my palms, dragging it up the backs of her legs. The only noise in the house was coming from the six second video clips Dad was mindlessly absorbing and his occasional snort of laughter.

"You should stop," she repeated, beginning to breath heavier. "What if he comes in?"

"If he walks into this kitchen," I began to whisper, "he'll see me appreciating his wife." I kissed her neck. "And maybe he'll finally realize what he's missing."

"Yeah," she grinded her hips in a little circle. "What he ignores..."

I dug my fingers into her crack, pushing the tight skirt fabric between her cheeks.

"You're not supposed to be touching me like this," she pushed her ass backward against me, encouraging me to grope her harder. "It's wrong. It's against the rules."

I lifted her skirt higher. Her cheeks were about to come into view.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked.

She said nothing, only breathing harder.

I slid my right hand below the hem of her skirt and placed it on her cheek. I could feel the edge of her panties. With my left I held her skirt up, now having bunched it up completely into my fist.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked again.

"No."

Her legs widened and my right hand slid deeper between her legs, right onto her crotch, cupping her sex. She sucked in her breath as I pressed upward against her, rubbing her. She started to gyrate her hips as my middle finger depressed the soaking panties against her clit. I began rubbing in small circles but increasing the pressure with time.

There was no more need for talking after that. The intensity of the moment was enough to get Mom off.

I brought my left hand up to her mouth, covering it just in time, muffling her first loud moan. She bit down on me as she came, falling forward onto the counter.

As she recovered, she appeared to be flustered - unsure whether to stay with me in the kitchen or leave and face her husband, but needing to do something.

Knowing my role in our new dynamic, I gave Mom instructions. She needed me to be decisive for her. "Go to the living room and kiss Dad on the cheek," I whispered. "Tell him you're going to bed early. Then have a shower, put on something comfortable, and go to sleep. I'll take care of the kitchen. You don't need to be neglected ever again, Mom." I kissed her lips, silently.

She stared at me in wonder, then obeyed, walking out into the living room. I heard the audible smooch sound as she kissed my father's cheek and her telling him she was going to bed early, then their bedroom door closing and the shower starting a minute later.

I made sure to smell and lick clean my fingers before finishing the dishes. I had a taste and I wanted more.

I went right down to my room after that. Laying in bed, I remembered the feeling of my Mom's body as I got her off. This business with Mom was really making me feel like a man. It's funny how even after a boy grows up, his Mother still has more lessons to teach him. I smiled as I dozed off.

---

I had been sleeping for only a couple of hours when I awoke to a soft knock on my door. I wondered if it was my imagination, until a moment later when the door slowly opened. I could barely make out Mom's dark silhouette as she entered and quietly shut the door behind her, turning the knob as it closed so that the latch wouldn't make a sound. She approached my bed and sat on the edge, resting her hand on my thigh above the sheet.

I turned on my dim, bedside lamp to see my Mother wearing a short white robe tied tightly around her waist. There wasn't a speck of makeup on her face and her hair hung loosely on her shoulders, still damp from her shower. She looked natural.

"Mom?"

"Shhhh." She trailed her finger tips along my leg silently for a minute. There was an oddly determined look on her face. She was nervous and pushing herself. I said nothing and we simply sat together in comfortable silence.

Eventually, she gently spoke. "You took a big risk today in the kitchen."

"Yeah?" I left my response open to see where this was going.

"Mhmmmm," she laid her hand flat on my thigh, dipping her fingers inside. "Your father could have seen what you were doing to me."

"Yeah, he could have."

"Yes... and how bad you were being... and how bad you were making me be."

Then I started to understand her new game. I knew she got off on the danger, but I didn't expect to ignite this much fire in her. Wow!

"He could have caught me touching you," I said. Now resting my hand on her thigh.

She bit her lip.

I continued. "He could have seen me touching his wife."

"He could have seen that she was encouraging it," Mom said, now breathing harder.

"That she was... spreading her legs for another man," I risked going too far, but was instead rewarded.

"Oooo, yes, for another man. For you!" Mom's hips started to squirm and she leaned her face close to mine. I guess she liked my phrasing. She whispered sensually, "he would have seen how sneaky she was being, letting her boy secretly get frisky with her."

My hand slid higher up her thigh as I responded. "He would have seen what he's missing out on." Then I took another risk. "What he's going to lose."

She caught her breath and spoke after a few moments, continuing to lean toward me. "Yes, what his son is... taking away from him."

The intensity of the moment was overwhelming. Our mouths came together like magnets and our tongues began dancing, fiercely mashing together. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me, feeling her damp hair on my face and chest. Her hand slid up my body, briefly passing over my cock, the first time her hand had felt it. She grabbed my face in both hands as we made out.

I grabbed the knot of her robe, wanting it open, wanting to see and feel the body beneath it. Now's your chance! Get her out of that fucking robe!

Suddenly she pushed my hands away from her, breaking the kiss and sitting up straight. Still breathing heavy and flushed red.

"No, honey. Get your sketchbook first." Her voice was frantic.

"Huh?"

"Draw me, baby. I need you to draw me. You must."

What? After everything we just did here and in the kitchen, she was going to stop me now? She wanted me to draw her again? I wasn't sure what game she was playing but I was willing to go along if it meant getting that damn knot untied.

I jumped out of bed and grabbed my sketchbook off the desk. Walking proudly in front of my Mother in my undershorts, my obvious erection throbbing. Mom openly looked at it, curiosity in her eyes. I wondered how many cocks she'd actually seen.

She stood at the end of my bed while I began to draw. I had no intention of spending much time on this sketch, just enough to satisfy whatever thrill it gave Mom so that we could get back to business.

She posed in a demure fashion, standing straight and looking at me with a downcast gaze. I focused my sketching on her robe and body, really making sure to capture the curves of her hips and bust. God, she had a wonderful bust.

"Tell me how you want me," she husked.

So she wanted some more orders? I could do that.

"Kneel on the end of my bed. Keep your legs together and put your hands on your knees. Look away from me."

She obeyed and I drew for no more than three minutes. I had no intention of taking my time tonight.

"Twist toward me and lean on your right hand. Let your left leg dangle off the bed."

Again, she obeyed, like a human puppet. My eyes roamed over her body, observing and noting every detail, every curve, every shadow.

Her right hand began to toy listlessly with her robe's belt while I drew, gently tugging at it but not hard enough to open the knot. What was she doing?

Then I remembered that I was in charge. That she liked me taking the lead, even bossing her around.

I tried to keep my voice level. "Take off your robe."

She froze, no longer toying with the knot. "Oh, honey. I don't think I can do that..."

"Stand up." I kept my voice normal, but firm.

She stood, her hands returning to the rope belt, knowing what command was coming, but needing me to say it anyways. She looked at me, patiently anticipating my voice.

I waited for nearly ten seconds, then calmly spoke. "Untie it."

She hesitated for a few seconds.

"I shouldn't."

She needed a bit more coaxing. Was she thinking of what my Dad was doing with other women? For other women? I returned to my phrasing from earlier.

"Untie it, Mom. For me."

"For you?"

"Yeah, Mom. Untie it. Take it off, for me. For... another man."

That did it. She slowly pulled the knot apart and let her robe spread open. Her bare midriff came into view. A pair of black lace panties covered her crotch. The robe parted further around her breasts which were supported by a thin mesh bra. Her hard nipples were clearly visible though the thin material.

She allowed the robe to fall from her shoulders into a pool on the floor behind her feet. I could have cum just from the sight of her.

We both breathed heavily as I admired her body. I had never seen her so exposed, revealing so much white, creamy skin. Even at the beach, she wore modest one-piece bathing suits.

I stood up to go to her.

"No, sweetie" she raised a hand to stop me. "Draw."

Returning to my seat, I gathered the book and looked at her. She waited expectantly, appearing vulnerable and unsure of herself.

"Mom," I began, gathering my previous confidence. "We need to do a drawing that shows off your toned legs. Twist to the side and look at me, with one leg behind the other."

She did as I told her and I began to draw. Again, spending no more than three minutes on her form and focusing on her lower body. My hand was shaking as I began to work. With my cock throbbing under the book it was hard to draw in this surreal situation.

"Now sit on the end of the bed and lean toward me. We need to draw your upper body, Mom. Your breasts."

"We do? My... breasts?" She trailed her fingers slowly through the valley in the center of her chest.

"Yes, Mom. It's important."

Again, she obeyed, though a bit more shyly. She was nervous to display her upper body so blatantly.

We were sitting so close together that I could smell her. For this drawing, I focused on her chest and shoulders and included the sultry look on her face.