Eye of the Appreciator

I couldn't take much more of this. "Last one, Mom. Lay across my bed on your stomach, I'm going to draw your backside now."

She obeyed again, this time quicker. She wasn't so nervous to show me her ass.

I spent an extra minute on this sketch, making sure I captured perfectly the way her panties curved around her cheeks and disappeared into her crack.

When I was finished I told her to come sit with me and look. By now, I understood how our our implicit deal worked. She got to look at the drawings I did of her and I got to explore.

She crawled on her knees and sat on the bed beside me while I handed her the book.

Mom immediately seemed to undergo the usual transformation that my sketches have on her. She smiled broadly, clearly pleased. She beamed the way a woman should, knowing that she is appreciated.

I sat behind her, immediately putting my hands on her skin, absorbed in it, fascinated by my Mother's exposed body. I brought my face to her hair, inhaling deeply as I began to kiss her neck and shoulders.

"Oh, sweetie, that feels so good." She leaned back against me slightly.

I brought my hands around her, sliding them up her bare thighs and over her stomach.

"You know... sometimes if a woman feels appreciated, she might let a man get a bit frisky."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, baby. She might let a man play a little bit. But just a little."

She set the book down and leaned backward against me. I fell backward against my pillows as she slid up the mattress to sit between my legs, facing away from me, and leaned back into my chest. I brought my arms around her and pulled her close. I was overwhelmed in her feel, her scent, the ocean of soft, white skin pressed against me. My hands roamed across her arms and torso. So much body against me. She leaned back and rested her head on my shoulder, thrusting her chest upward.

The next moment my hands were sliding up and over her breasts, capturing them firmly over her bra while she turned her face and our mouths met. Even through the bra, her hard nipples dug into my palms. I brought my hands back around her, unsnapping her bra and tearing it off of her, revealing her beautiful Mom-tits. My hands returned to cup them, squeezing and playing with her big nipples as she dug her tongue into my mouth.

"So..." she whispered. "Are you going to play?" She nudged my right hand downward, off of her tit.

Mom began gyrating her hips. I guess our encounter in the kitchen only served to get her warmed up because she was seriously horny, her wanton action betraying her lust.

I slid my hand down, past the slight pout of her tummy, and over her mound, cupping and pressing against her. She went wild grinding herself against my hand.

"Yes! Play, sweetie. Play with me."

I hooked my thumb over the waistband of her panties and pushed them down, digging my fingers underneath and diving into the wet forest of fur and bare lips.

Mom sucked in her breath and then began mewing and moaning rapidly into my ear as I hooked my middle finger inside of her. I followed with my index finger shortly after, taking my time to work her tight pussy open with two of my digits. Mom's eyes spread wide and her jaw silently fell open.

"Gentle," Mom panted. "It's been a while." From her tightness and the intensity of her voice, I knew in that moment that it had been a long time since Dad had properly touched her.

I worked her for two minutes, massaging her left tit with one hand and fingering her with the other until her legs began shaking and she lifted her hips off the bed, trying to impale herself deeper on my hand.

"That's it, Mom, take it. Fuck it!" I hissed into her ear, driving her wild.

Mom had what was obviously a much-needed release.

At this point, I was barely containing myself from exploding in my shorts as my cock rubbed against my orgasming Mother's back. But, I had other plans than wetting myself like the day in the kitchen.

I lifted Mom, while sliding my body downward, plopping her on my lap, above my cock so that her meaty butt mushed against my belly and my cock sprang up between her legs. Then I quickly flipped it out from under my waistband and let it spring against her soaking panties, immediately beginning to grind it on her.

Her tone immediately changed as she realized our proximity to the forbidden edge and she fearfully snapped her legs together, squeezing my shaft between two smooth, creamy thighs and against the heat of her womanhood. "Baby, this... this is too much. You can't put it there!" Her voice now contained fear. Was she having a moment of doubt?

There was no doubt on my end as I tasted how close I was to my prize. I started bucking and fucking her thighs, wanting nothing more than to return to my birthplace.

Somehow my dickhead slipped under the fabric and on my next upward thrust I felt moisture and skin. Holy shit! I was rubbing against her bare lips! As I slid my hands back down her sides, I caught the straps of her lacy panties and slid them down her thighs to her knees. Finally exposing her lightly-haired pussy for the first time. Get inside her! This is your chance!

"Oh God, baby, you need to st- stop!" Mom begged me, while gyrating her own hips in rhythm with mine.

Returning my hands to her hips, I lifted her slightly on one of my backstrokes, no more than an inch. When she came back down my cock parted her entrance, truly threatening to penetrate into her.

Mom's body froze as she desperately gasped, "no, you can't pu- put it there!"

She seemed to return to sobriety in that moment of truth, knowing that I was intent on only one thing and that her ability to stop me was vanishing rapidly. Only moments remained for her to save us from diving into the true depravity of an incestuous fuck.

"I need it, Mom! Let me... appreciate you!"

"No, not there," she pulled away, grabbing my organ. Her tight grip felt incredible. Then she spun around, kneeling between my legs.

"But you can put it here." In the nick of time she engulfed my shaft to the back of her mouth. Her thick, wet lips slurping their way nearly to my base while her warm slug of a tongue twisted and spiraled its way around and around my head. Wow, Mom could suck!

After the best two seconds of my life, I exploded in what was, by far, my most intense nut. My jizz machine gunned into the back of her throat until it began to ooze out around my rod. Mom swallowed it all, savoring each drop while she licked me clean.

She crawled up next to me and whispered, "you earned some play time, and I love having you appreciate me, but I can never let you... inside me. Not there." She kissed me once more on the cheek. "Goodnight."

She picked up her robe and slipped out of my room. Again, all I could do was admire her butt as she walked away. How the hell was I going to fuck this woman?

Mom acted utterly normal the next morning. No suggestive glances, touching, or comments. If you were standing in our kitchen watching the three of us eat breakfast, you would have had no idea what we'd done just a few hours earlier.

---

So that was it. I had broken through. Mom seemed much more open to me now. Over the next week we seemed to be constantly lightly flirting and I always made sure to touch her when Dad was nearby, but not paying attention.

I would often feel her toe gently poking and nudging my leg under the dinner table, then later that night, I would help her do the dishes while taking every chance to graze my fingertips across her backside. Although, I didn't try anything too aggressive. Instead, I elected to take my time letting the tension build.

Mom deserved an Oscar for the performance she was giving. One moment, she'd be in the kitchen provocatively swaying her hips for me and the next she'd pass into the living room and give my Dad a drink and kiss on the cheek. The guy had no idea what was going on under the roof of his own house.

After an entire week of this new dynamic, I decided to see if she'd let me go a bit further. Since it had already been established as normal for me to be lightly touching her, I only needed to let my hands begin to wander a bit more. I began to give her butt little squeezes, or let my fingers slide across the sides of her breasts when I hugged her goodnight.

Once or twice I tried getting my hand under her skirt again but she would always bat my hand away with a grin.

"Don't get too crazy," she would say quietly.

Once I tried to undo a couple of her blouse's buttons while sitting with her on the couch and having tea. She pushed my hand away a tad coldly.

"Be good now," she said.

It seemed like Mom was okay with flirting and lightly touching, but she was obviously drawing the line there. Just like before, despite how far we'd already gone, Mom had let the pendulum swing back a ways before drawing a line in the sand. She was establishing her boundaries a little bit behind where I'd already managed to get.

On one hand, it was frustrating. But on the other, I enjoyed the challenge of trying to get into her pants. She wasn't going to give herself up too easily, and that only made me want her more. Maybe Mom wanted to see how hard I was willing to work for it, to find out what she was really worth. She had given me a taste and then said, "let's see what else you've got."

Well I certainly wasn't giving up. I was just going to have to try harder.

I knew Mom got off on the danger of having Dad nearby, but I also suspected that him being home would prevent her from taking things too far. So I figured my best plan was to wait until he left for his golf game on Saturday. Unfortunately, it rained all day and he cancelled his game. Drat!

But I had waited long enough and needed to do something. I came upstairs after spending Saturday morning in my room to find Mom in the kitchen. Dad was out back bumming around in the garage but he had been coming in and out of the house all day.

"Morning, sleepy head," she greeted me with a smile. She was preparing a salad for her lunch.

"Hey, Mom," I said, kissing her cheek and leaning on the counter opposite her to admire her while she cut up some vegetables. She was wearing a green house dress, buttoned all the way up her front, with a yellow apron. The apron was tied tightly behind her waist, slimming her dress to hug her form perfectly. Her hips flared out beautifully.

We chatted about small things for a few minutes. Despite everything we'd already done, I suddenly felt nervous. I can't believe my own Mom was giving me butterflies, like I was back in grade-school with a crush. I took a deep breath to calm myself and approached her, beginning to play lightly with her hair.

"I was thinking, Mom, we should go shopping again this afternoon."

"I don't know, honey, I think I bought enough clothing on the other trip to last me a while."

"But you can never have enough new outfits."

"That's true, but I don't feel like going out today. Maybe another time." She gave no reaction to me touching her hair and now grazing my fingers down her back.

"What about a cup of tea in the living room?"

"No, I'm okay, honey. I had two cups this morning."

Why was she giving me such a hard time? Did she enjoy torturing me?

Just then Dad came into the kitchen. Mom batted my hands off of her a moment before he came around the corner. He loudly dragged a chair back from the table and plopped himself down.

"Christ, the weather is ugly out there today. I was going to break par this afternoon, for sure." Dad's mood was like a dark aura that filled the room, obviously upset at missing his weekly stress relief. "Grab me something to drink, Mar."

Mom leaned on the counter and simply looked at him, not bothering to mask her disdain. Then she took a beer from the fridge, opened it, and set it in front of him before turning to me.

"You know, maybe I could use a cup of tea," Mom quietly said. She untied her apron and hung it on the stove handle before walking out of the kitchen.

I chatted with Dad a bit while the water boiled, trying unsuccessfully to cheer him up. "Don't worry, Dad, the weather will be better next weekend," I said, crossing my fingers that I was right.

He snorted and pulled out his phone. In no time he was hypnotized by some video.

Mom was flipping through a fashion magazine as I entered the living room with the tray. I had poured two cups of green tea and included a brownie with a small fork for her, as well. I noticed that the top two buttons on the front of her dress had been undone as I sat down on the same couch as her, leaving some space between us.

"What are you looking at, Mom?" I asked her. She had stopped flipping and was looking at a photo of a woman about her age wearing a bright red dress.

"Oh, just looking for some inspiration for the next shopping trip."

"Yeah? Well, you'd look great in that," I told her.

She grinned, "I would?"

"Totally, you have great hips, like hers but a little nicer." I kept my voice down so Dad wouldn't hear.

Mom slid a little closer to me. "What about this one?" She flipped to another page a little further back. It showed a woman in a thin, gray, low-cut sweater. The woman was large-breasted and the sweater clung tightly to her curves.

"That could definitely be your style, Mom," I said. Then continued in a whisper, "especially with your tits."

She poked me teasingly. "Behave yourself."

"But I think a brighter color would suit you better. Maybe light blue?"

"Wow, I had no idea you had such a good eye for fashion. I'll have to bring you to the mall again soon."

Progress. I was on track. Now just keep pressing forward.

She continued flipping as we began to sip our tea. She stopped once or twice more to point out various outfits or styles and I continued subtly complimenting her within my responses. Before long, we had slid a couple more inches closer together.

At one point, Mom's hand had dropped to the hem of her dress and she began to play with it in her fingertips. After another minute, she started to ball it up and tug it slightly up her leg. Was she being deliberately provocative? I stared as her creamy, white thigh meat began to come into view.

"How does it look?" She asked, grinning.

I looked up suddenly. She was pointing at another photo.

"Beautiful," I said, my hand moving out and resting on her bare leg. She didn't push it away. Instead, she turned the page to reveal a photo of a couple sitting on the patio of a cafe in some European town.

"Mmm," she hummed, "do you think they're on a date?"

"For sure, Mom. It looks like she dressed up for him." The woman was wearing a tight black dress that stopped only half-way down her thighs.

"You don't think she's showing too much leg?" Mom asked.

"No way, she knows that she has gorgeous legs and she's showing them off. Isn't she, Mom?"

Mom chuckled. "Maybe she is."

Dad's voice boomed out of the kitchen then, "we got anything to eat around here?"

"Yes, dear. Leftovers in the fridge," Mom kept her voice monotone.

I left my hand on her thigh as she kept flipping. We could hear Dad in the kitchen. He was walking around, loudly opening and closing cupboards as he prepared a plate of food. He pushed a few buttons on the microwave and it fired up.

Mom put the magazine down and picked up another. As she begin turning pages I started to let my hand slide further up her thigh, now curling my fingers to grip her inner leg. She paid me no notice. How far could I go? I had to keep in mind that Dad was liable to walk out of the kitchen any moment.

Emboldened, I whispered to her, "do you know why you've been such a good drawing model, Mom?"

She looked at me with a questioning look, as if to say, "what exactly are you trying to do?" while at the same time already knowing, and being willing to play along.

"It's your skin, Mom. It's so smooth."

"... My skin?"

"Yeah, Mom. Your legs don't have a single blemish on them." I began to draw tiny circles on her inner thigh.

The microwave beeped it's finish and Dad opened and shut it's door before sitting at the table again.

"Oh, give me a break. My skin is far from perfect," Mom said.

"No way, Mom. It is perfect. The backs, too." I wrapped my hand totally around her inner leg and began rubbing the bottom of her leg.

"I bet you spend a lot of time taking care of this skin, don't you?"

She didn't answer, just continued breathing slowly, allowing me to explore.

I kept pushing, going further up her leg, soon having my finger tips only inches from her panties. I hesitated then, worried of going too far and scaring Mom off again. Mom suddenly grabbed my wrist. Damn, I was so close!

But to my surprise, rather than shoving it away, Mom drew it farther up her dress, right against her crotch! I immediately cupped her and pressed hard. Mom released my wrist and continued to peruse her magazine as if she was all alone on the couch, gently squeezing her legs together to trap my hand.

Mom really was like a locked treasure chest. Hard to crack, but suddenly the right combination would open her right up.

I rubbed up and down against her, watching as she tried to keep her face straight.

Bringing my face near hers, I whispered, "is this for me?"

Mom only squirmed against my hand.

"Hmm?" I reiterated my question.

"Maybe. If you try."

I rubbed a bit harder. Mom moaned under her breath.

"If he comes in here, he'll see you being bad," I said.

"Yeah? What will he see?"

"He'll see what you're giving me. What I'm going to take."

"Then take it, already," Mom panted.

I pulled her panties to the side and shoved two finger inside of her. She caught her breath hard, biting her lip to stifle a moan.

A second later there was a tiny creak from the other room as Dad stepped toward the kitchen door. Within a moment, Mom shoved my hand away and we separated ourselves on the couch. When Dad walked into the living room Mom was reading an article and I was taking a sip of tea, trying my best to look normal.

Dad sat down on his chair. "Well, don't you two look cozy." Maybe he wasn't so oblivious, after all?

"I need to put in a load of laundry. Thanks for the tea, honey." She stood up from the couch and entered her and Dad's bedroom. Coming out a moment later with a full laundry basket. She stared fervently into my eyes from behind Dad, who, once again, had his face buried in his phone. She went downstairs and, a minute later, I stood up and followed her.

She was standing in front of the washing machine loading it full of clothes as I approached her. She heard me behind her and glanced over her shoulder before bending forward and reaching under her dress to slide her soaked panties down. She stepped out of them and threw them in the washer before shutting the lid and starting the machine. Then she turned around and leaned against it, staring straight at me.

I grabbed her by the hips and lifted her onto the machine, sliding her dress up to her waist. I fell to my knees, my head now perfectly level with her bush, as she wrapped her legs behind my shoulders and grabbed me by the hair.

I dove into her sweet muff and ate her for everything I was worth, the tumbling sounds of the machine hiding her moans. The tension of the previous week broke like a dam gushing over my face as I tongued and licked her, in disbelief of her sweet, sweet taste.

She came quickly, holding my face firmly against her crotch throughout her final throws before pushing me away, panting.

"Get in your room," she demanded, standing.

Of course, I obeyed. She following me inside and closed the door, quickly pushing me onto the bed and fumbling with my jeans.

My cock sprang free and she inhaled it, sucking me even better than she had the previous week. I had flashbacks to the incredible sensation of her mouth draining me as her tongue, once again, snaked around my shaft and her thick, wet lips worked me up and down.