In Mom's hands

I stared at the page, trying to will the words to make sense but nothing was going in. The letters were just ink splotches on the paper. My focus was jumping around like a cat following a laser pointer. My mind raced, my heart thudded in my chest. Who could read at a time like this?

Would it happen again? Could it?

I gave a dry swallow and tried again to convert these words into coherent thoughts. But my mind kept drifting back to last night. That warmth. That tight grip. The smooth quick strokes and then the release. It hadn't been just a dirty dream? Had it?

I nearly jumped when I heard my door creak. I'd left it a crack open for exactly this reason: an invitation.

"Can't sleep again?" Mom asked in a voice soft as a silk scarf dropped to the carpeted floor. I didn't look up. I was feeling giddy, like a kid who's been spinning in circles for too long.

I pretended to finish the page I was on, as if my heart had not just gone into hummingbird mode. If I looked up maybe I'd realize it was only my imagination. Or, maybe I'd frighten her and she'd run away scared. Had to be cool. Had to act cool. Just breathe.

I risked a peripheral glance. There was definitely a shape in the doorway. A very shapely shape. She was back! She was in my doorway. I turned to face her as casually as I could. Were my hands holding the book shaking?

I held back a whimper. Fuck, she looked good. Mom had her long, straight, dark hair down, framing her heart-shaped face. The Asian heritage that came from her mother's side gave her eyes an exotic upward tilt. Those eyes that always looked like they were smiling, watched me intently, not revealing her thoughts, though her hands were tugging self-consciously at the hem of her nightie.

It was short, too short really to be comfortable. It ended at the top of her thighs barely hiding her crotch. It was also lacey. I could actually see the outline of her panties and the skin of her smooth belly, vivaciously plump but not fat. What she wore was more of a teddy than a nightie. Her huge tits strained at the (disappointingly) opaque material at her bust. Happily, it was cut low enough to expose a generous scoop of cleavage.

I suddenly became aware that I'd been silently taking all this in for far too long a time, blatantly ogling my own mother. Even as this awareness dawned on me I knew I was still staring at those heavenly tits. I just couldn't look away. Not that Mom seemed to mind. If anything she pushed her chest out further, bathing in the heat of my admiration.

She lifted an eyebrow. Oh shit. She'd asked a question. What was it again? Oh, yeah. Can't sleep.

I nodded dumbly.

"Poor baby," mom pouted. Her hand moved up to finger the tiny bow at the apex of her cleavage. I watched it pluck at the material, licking my lips unconsciously. "Would you like some, um," Her eyes darted to the side and her cheeks flushed, "Assistance?" She cleared her throat and clarified, "Like last night?"

Despite my hopeful anticipation, I was still poleaxed when the offer came again. Last night was not a fluke. It had actually happened and, what was more, here was mom offering to do it again. I wanted to tell my stalled brain to give the go-ahead, but found, without consulting me, my head was already nodding by itself.

This caused Mom's flush to grow and her smile to brighten. My cheeks heated up too when I noticed her nipples were now poking through the thin material of her nightie.

With effort, I returned my gaze to her face. Her exquisite dimples came out and she stepped inside my room. Taking a last listen and a peek down the hallway she gently closed my bedroom door. I shoved my book away in the direction of my bedside table, not watching where it landed, instead giving my full attention to Mom's plentiful bottom as she stooped slightly to turn the key in the lock. Her nightie rode up, indecently exposing her panties which were not up to the task of accommodating that ass. Her cheeks bulged out either side of them in a way that would have made an anime version of me suffer an instant nosebleed. This brought me to another "full attention" of a very different sort.

Mom stole across my carpeted floor and knelt beside my single bed. The same single bed I'd slept in since I was ten and which was now comically juvenile for my lanky eighteen-year-old frame.

"Did it help?" She asked, her face expectant, while she placed an uncertain hand atop the covers, resting on my leg. I suddenly felt like a little boy again. Her little boy. She looked so eager to please.

I managed to breathe out a "Yeah," and she squeezed my leg through the duvet. "It was," I stuttered searching for the words but found them all insufficient. Her hand was on my upper thigh, so close to where my hard cock was straining upwards. She had to be able to see the bulge in my bedclothes. "It was amazing," I finished.

"Good," Her smile was so warm and loving. She put a finger to her lips, looked around the room one last time to check everything was secure, and then moved her hand deftly beneath the covers.

I have no idea how we came to this place in our relationship. When this all began, last night, I can't rightly remember what words were said or what looks were exchanged. It all felt inconsequential at the time. Until it wasn't. A normal conversation between mother and son. A very beautiful mother and a secretly perverted and always horny son, certainly, but there was nothing in it that suggested we'd end up here.

She'd asked why I was up so late and I'd said I couldn't sleep. She'd made some classic mom suggestions: Read a book (tried that), drink warm milk (I'm eighteen), count some sheep (seriously?). Somehow the topic had gotten on to what, ahem, she'd heard, a lot of teenage boys, ahem, did before they went to sleep. It was supposed to make you feel sleepy after. It had mortified me, my blush turning me so beetroot she'd felt compelled to console me. Supportive words were said and supportive touches were made. In the process her hand had bumped a certain part of me, my eyes had lingered too long on a certain part of her, and the next thing I knew she was offering something I wasn't sure she was actually offering and I was agreeing to it without actually saying it in so many words. Does that make sense? Then, like now, there was the feeling of a warm hand slipping under the covers and traveling up my leg. The shock. The mind-numbing disbelief as my mother's own hand burrowed through the flap at the front of my sleeping shorts and wrapped around my rigid pole. I'd not lasted long. How could I? It was all so sudden, so unexpected. Just a few pumps from that soft loving hand and I was spurting like a geyser, drenching my sleeping shorts. But it was good. Epic, in fact. Just that simple little handjob, performed by my own mother, trumped any other experience in my, admittedly, unimpressive sexual history.

Then mom, flushed and more than a little self-conscious, had withdrawn. She'd eyed her cum covered hand with curiosity, seemingly unsure what to do with it. Maybe she was working through the shock of what she had just done. After a moment she took a breath, her smile returning and wiped her hand clean on her nightie (a much more sensible outfit than the one she wore tonight). That was pretty much it. We'd said nothing more of it, mostly ignoring each other all of today. I'd imagined afterward that it was either a vivid dream or, if not, that she would think it some horrific act and be furious at me for defiling her in that way.

And yet... And yet, here she was again. She was as eager, possibly even more so than last night. Clearly she'd worked through her concerns and it had worked out in my favor. She also moved with more confidence tonight. That hand was back, snaking up my thigh. My skin tingled all over. Even with some idea of what to expect, after the events of last night, I still jumped at the contact. Her fingertips lightly grazed my balls and came to rest at the base of my shaft. I silently screamed with joy inside the confines of my own mind.

"So hard already," she brushed my length tentatively, sounding impressed, "Were you waiting for me?"

I hesitated at this question. Could answering truthfully get me in trouble? Would she judge me for lying here fantasizing about her, my own mother, coming to give me a handjob? I figured the line was crossed though. She was already holding my cock and not for the first time.

I nodded.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," She purred sympathetically, giving an exploratory stroke on my member, "I had to wait for your father to fall asleep." Seeing the question in my eyes she winked and answered, "Don't worry, He's snoring away. It would take an apocalypse to wake him now." Placing her other hand on my chest she gently pushed me down. "Just relax, baby. Let mommy take care of you."

I complied all too willingly. She was so gentle, her love for me imbued in every motion of her body. I rested on my elbows and watched the rhythmic rise and fall of my duvet. With her on her knees beside the bed, our eyes were on a level. Mom gazed at me with inscrutable fascination. Tonight, without all the shock and surprise distracting me, I began to suspect that Mom's interest extended beyond just wanting to help me sleep. She was a little too intent in my reactions for it to be just that.

"Is that good?" She soothed. She didn't have to ask though, she could tell from how my eyes were trying to roll back into my head. It made her giggle girlishly. I fought it though, I wanted my eyes to enjoy other sights. Most of all that of her jiggling breasts as her hand pumped me diligently.

Unlike last night I did not shame myself by succumbing immediately. I came close. Really close. In fact, if the memory of last night had not led to me manufacturing several more climaxes during the course of today at my own hands, it probably would have been another early night for both of us.

Mom's amused expression at my vastly improved stamina told me she either suspected what I'd been doing all day or else she was enjoying the challenge set before her.

Feeling brave now that I could see she was plainly enjoying herself, I took a risk and attempted to lift the duvet. I fumbled it clumsily though, and would have chickened out if Mom had not noticed and asked, "Oh, do you want to watch?" Before I could answer she tossed back the blanket and we were both staring at where her hand gripped my shaft. What a sight!

"Much better," She cooed, "Now I can actually see what I'm doing. Do you like that, baby?" She added a circular wringing motion to her stroke. I moaned. "Yeah?" She grew excited, "Is that right? You want mommy to keep doing that? You're so fucking big. My big boy. Look at that handsome cock. I can't believe what a man you've become."

Fuck, her weird mix of maternal ego-boosting and dirty talk was spurring me on. I had to fight back my rising pleasure. I wanted this to go on for as long as I could make it.

My mom must have noticed my strained face and balled fists because she observed, "You don't want to cum for mommy yet?" I shook my head, "You want me to keep going?" I nodded emphatically. "That's okay," she gentled her pace and began to tease my length with climbing and descending fingers, "Mommy can make you feel so good. You just relax baby. I'll take care of you."

"You're so..." I gasped at this protracted pleasure, "...So good to me."

She beamed at my compliment and resumed her stroking, albeit using her telepathic mom skills to keep me riding a long, delicious curling wave of pleasure.

Those tits though. My eyes kept going back to her jouncing, jiggling tits. They were so big and bouncy and reacted to every movement of her tireless arm. Again, reading my mind (Let's face it, it can't have been hard to do at this point), she traced my gaze to her bosom and asked nonchalantly, "Will it help you to see them?"

"Yeah," I breathed, "Yes, please. Would you?" I let the question hang in the air, not quite believing it would be answered. But, answered it was and not with words but actions. Using her free hand she tugged at the straps of her lacy nightie on the one side. Then, caring mother that she was, she switched hands so as not to break her spectacular handjob, and slipped off the other strap. This is a gifted woman, I can assure you, as talented with her left hand as she is with her right. My eyes locked onto the material which was now perched dangerously low on her breasts. I could see the top half of those massive orbs now and they were only getting bouncier and more impressive.

Hooking a thumb into her plunging cleavage she drew her top down and performed a world-altering titty-drop. Her massive breasts tumbled free and rebounded with youthful exuberance that belied her age. Such breasts. Such wonderful full, fat, swinging, dancing breasts. Capping each was a dark pink nipple, giving each orb a shaped peak that multiplied their perfection. The fluidity of those huge tits, and the swirling motion of her nipples as they danced to her rhythmic beating was mesmerizing. On the one hand, it made me want to cum immediately. On the other hand, it was so hypnotic that I was temporarily lulled into a kind of blissful stupor.

I was so lost in the pink cloud of titty lust that I can't say I even knew what I was doing until I heard her say, "It's okay. You can touch them." My eyes went wide when I realized I already was. Sweet Jesus, my hand was groping mom's boob and her soft, supple skin felt incredible. How had I come to be cupping her right breast? Who cared? I was doing it and she was letting me. If anything, she appeared to be enjoying it. Her plump tit was too big for my hand. It flopped in and out of my grip until I was able to find something to grip. This happened to be one of her thick, pencil-eraser-sized nipples. When I pinched it, not entirely conscious that I was doing it, it elicited a crisp gasp from Mom. When I glanced up to see if I'd somehow transgressed, her hooded eyes told me otherwise.

Seeing that I now had a way to toy with her like she was toying with me, I rolled that rubbery nipple until I felt it stiffen between my fingers. While Mom massaged my cock I played with her boobs, cupping and lifting, prodding and squeezing with a childish glee that seemed to please her immensely.

"Do you like them?" She enquired. She needn't have asked, the answer was in my enraptured attention. The question was evidently rhetorical, however, because she used it to lead into the next, far more meaningful, one. "Would you like me to do something special tonight?"

"Mmm hmm," I answered absently. The influx of pleasurable sensations was almost overwhelming. I did not even question what this special something could be. Could it get more special than this?

"Okay," she wore that adorable shy smile again and the flush returned to her cheeks. "Scoot closer to me."

I did, wiggling myself right to the edge of the bed.

"Take off your shorts," she commanded.

In a flurry of limbs, clothes, and blankets I obeyed. In a second I'd fought my way free of the tangle and lay bottomless atop my sheets. My mom watched me, her eyes twinkling. That love I saw melted away any self-consciousness that might have plagued me. I kept my hands at my sides, resisting the urge to cover up my painfully erect member.

"Good," she tenderly ran a finger over my belly muscles, inducing a shiver, "Now, just lay still. You need to be nice and slippery first."

Not sure what she meant I opened my mouth to say something but whatever I was going to say evaporated as her hot wet mouth closed on the tip of my cock.

Oh God! Oh, Jesus! Mom was sucking my cock! My gorgeous mother had her plump lips around my dick and she was sucking like she was trying to drain my soul.

I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum. I can't cum. I have to fight. Can't cum. Won't cum. Fight it. Fight it you asshole. But it feels so good. Fuck it feels so good. The tight suction of those lips, her snaking tongue. Her hand gently squeezing my balls. This is it. I can't take this beautiful torture! Just a few more seconds though. Just hold on. She said she wanted me lubricated. For what? This wasn't the special thing. I mean, it was pretty fucking special, best moment of my life special, but maybe there was more? Could there be more? Could a human being experience more pleasure than this without blowing up their heart? I had to find out.

I willed myself back off the edge while Mom suckled my tip. Thankfully, just when I could take no more, she released me with a pop and let her mouthful of gathered drool pour down my shaft. I held her gaze (Fuck, it felt so dirty to do that) as she applied her saliva evenly to my entire length with her hand.

I whimpered. A gazelle in the claws of a fierce and proud lioness. God, I loved this woman.

When my cock was shiny, slippery, and swollen purple. She finally relented. She gave it a testing stroke with her hand. She grinned at the near-frictionless effect. As if to show her I was doing my part, when her squeeze reached the head of my cock, a spurt of precum leaped out and rolled down my tip, interlacing with her fingers and helping her add the last layer of lubrication.

"Perfect," she chirped happily, clapping her hands together.

I knew what was coming next or, at least I was hopeful, but still, I was not prepared for the revelation when it happened. My mom had to hoist up her heavy rack with her forearms so she could slap her fat tits down on my thighs like dough ready for kneading. I sat upright again and made a cry that, in any other situation, would have sounded pained.

Mom plumped her huge breasts around my member like my dick was a sapling being planted. The encapsulating warmth and softness made my mouth fall open but no sound came out. I was speechless.

"Do you like that?" She asked. She looked bashful, as if it were somehow likely I might be dissatisfied in some way. In what universe could that be possible? I gurgled a mindless reply. It was enough to satisfy her though and she squeezed me using her pillowy breasts.

"Do mommy's big titties feel good wrapped around your big cock?" She asked, teasing me by pressing her boobs together with her hands and sliding them up and down my length. With the coating of spit and precum she'd applied the journey was smooth and delightful. Five stars. I can highly recommend.

Fuck, I loved it when she spoke dirty. It was so incongruous with how I'd known her to be my whole life. Yet, here she was milking me with her magnificent milkers and saying filthy incetuous things that made me want to explode all over her.

Finding that I was lubed to perfection, she began to fuck me with her tits in earnest. They were so big they swallowed me entirely. Only on the down stroke, where her breasts were pancaked against my rigid abdominals, did my tip peek out like a very fortunate periscope.

Mom leaned over the bed to drop the full weight of her tits on me. They were so soft and malleable. They were a physical marvel for the fluid way they could compress and elongate before instantly wobbling back to their spherical fullness.

She took me to paizuri heaven. Balling her hands into fists, she crushed her tits around me tighter and tighter. Soon I was thrusting into her, my hips bucking on the bed, so that she had only to hold her tits together while it fucked them ruthlessly.

"Cum for mommy, baby," She encouraged me, "Cum for me, my prince."

With me doing the thrusting, Mom was able to crane her neck so that, as I drove through the luxurious channel between her breasts, my cock would pop into her open mouth each time I reached my apex. Her tongue lapped at my tip as it came within range. It was bliss. The warm marshmallow goodness of her huge tits combined with the drooling heat of her mouth finally broke down the few barriers I had left.