Mom's Touch But Don't Look Policy

I didn't have a good sense of the size of Mom's breasts. I assumed, based on previous evidence, that they were about the size of an apple. I hadn't focused on them before because they were never the part that was under the covers. And Mom was always wearing layers that kept them well hidden.

Now though, the whole universe could have exploded, and I would have stayed watching my mom rub my seed into her boobs, spreading it circular over her nipples. First one breast than the other. Moaning lightly as she did so.

"That feels much better," Mom said. She sat back and sighed. "How about another episode?"

*

I woke up in Mom and Dad's bed, Mom's head resting on my chest. There was no inappropriate contact -- we were just cuddling. In some ways, that was even worse. We'd slept together like lovers. Woken up as a married couple might.

Mom's hand lightly played on my shirt-covered chest.

"How'd you sleep, baby boy?" she asked, using another one of my childhood nicknames that I hadn't heard in years.

"Really good," I said. It was true. Something about being in that big bed had felt like resting in a warm cloud. Cossetted and comfy.

Mom's hand moved down my chest. It slipped under the covers. My eyes went wide as I realized we were about to expand our nighttime tradition. But right before she reached the waistband of my boxers, something started to ring, loudly.

"That must be your father," Mom said, popping up. She grabbed her cell off the nightstand and picked it up, motioning for me to move over so that I wouldn't be seen on screen.

"Hi David!" Mom said. I saw Dad's face appear on the phone. He looked tired. Worn down. The guilt of what I'd been doing with Mom flooded in.

All Dad had ever done was work his ass off for me and Mom. Sure, I had a scholarship, but that didn't mean he wasn't taking care of me in a million other ways. And because of that work, he was alone, in another country, completely separate from his family. And all the while I was rewarding him by fingering his wife in his own bed.

"I had a little accident," Mom said, "I'm OK, but I wanted you to know."

"What happened?" Dad said. I could see the worry in his eyes.

"Jay and I went out running and I tripped and twisted my ankle," Mom said, "Your son was such a hero, carrying me home and taking care of me."

"Jesus Julie are you stupid?" Dad replied. His rage was neutered by how tinny it sounded through the speaker phone. "What were you doing out running with Jay in the first place?"

"We've been working out," Mom said, "I want to be in good shape for you."

"Julie, you're too old to be pulling crap like that," Dad said, shaking his head like she'd spent their life savings on magic apricots. "You can't be chasing after Jay like some teenager."

"I'm not chasing after him," Mom said, her pride clearly wounded.

"Fucking hell," Dad said, "I leave for one second and you completely fall apart. Are you going to climb Mount Everest this afternoon?"

"It's not that big a deal," Mom said, "It barely even hurts anymore."

"Well, you can't say you didn't have it coming, Julie," Dad said, "You acted like an idiot and got injured. So, congrats on that."

"I'm sorry," Mom said. Her voice quiet.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Dad said, "Maybe this time you'll actually learn your lesson."

"I'll be fine," Mom said, and it sounded more like a decision than a promise. "Do you want to say hi to Jay? He's right, um, in the other room."

"No, I honestly, truly don't," Dad said, clearly still upset about what had happened to Mom.

"Well, is there anything you want me to tell him? When I see him? Later?"

"Tell him to stop dragging you along on his dumb escapades," Dad said, "He's a big boy. He doesn't need his Mommy to watch everything he does anymore."

"Yes," Mom said, her response automatic. "OK, I will. We both really miss you, David."

"Look, I'd better get going," Dad said, "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Try not to get a lacerated kidney in the meantime, OK?"

Mom blew him a kiss and hung up. She put the phone down on the bed carefully, like she was afraid she might accidentally throw it across the room. I tried to meet Mom's eye, but she wouldn't look at me.

Suddenly, I didn't feel so bad for sleeping in Dad's bed.

*

Mom spent the whole day on her feet, like she'd never hurt herself. A few times, I tried to check on her, but she wouldn't let me. She seemed cold, distant, and it reminded me of the way Mom had acted when I was in high school. I doubted that was coincidental.

The good news was, she did seem to be moving OK on the ankle. I caught her wincing a few times, but she was able to put weight on it most of the time. Still, a part of me worried Mom was overdoing it just to prove a point to a person that wasn't even there. So, I kept an eye on her throughout the day.

Watching Mom doing her chores shouldn't have been anything exciting, but it was. Doing laundry, washing dishes, vacuuming -- these mundane things became interesting because it was Mom doing it. The way her perfect body moved around the house. It was kind of entrancing, actually.

Eventually, Mom caught on to what I was up to. She stood over me on the couch, hands on her hips.

"I'm sure you can find better things to do with your day, Jay," Mom said.

"Nope," I said, "I'd much rather spend time with you."

Mom started to snap back, but then she faltered. "Thanks," she said, the word so quiet I almost missed it. Then she left the room. But I noticed she stopped acting so frantic and angry.

That night, I made dinner while Mom sat on the couch. She finally allowed me to ice her ankle, which didn't look swollen or bruised. I was now convinced that we'd dodged the danger and Mom was going to be alright.

We ate at the table together, in silence. We were doing OK, I could tell, but the remnants of the earlier tension were still there. It kept our conversation awkward and stilted. Both of us stared at our phones, mostly.

"Do you mind if I ask you to do the dishes?" Mom said, "It's been a long day and I'm really tired."

"No TV show tonight?" I asked. My disappointment must have been obvious because Mom gave me a guilty look.

"I'm sorry," Mom said, "I don't want to break our tradition."

"No, I understand," I said, "We can try again tomorrow?"

"Maybe," Mom said. She got up and went upstairs.

I cleared the table and took the dirty dishes into the kitchen. Washing them by myself only increased the sadness I felt. I know I should have let it go. Bad enough that I was getting milked by my mom, regularly. I couldn't then throw a tantrum when she, rightfully, wanted to stop.

Still, washing up all by myself was what hit it home. Weird that, with all the sexy stuff we were doing, the thing that really hurt my feelings was doing a chore without Mom's company.

After I was done, I watched some crap on my tablet in my own bed and then turned out the light. I closed my eyes to sleep, but it wouldn't come. I kept thinking about the day and how I could have done it differently.

Then, as I was finally about to fall into a troubled slumber, my bedroom door creaked open.

"Mom?" I asked, instinctive. She didn't respond. But it was clear that my mother had come into my room. It was dark, but I could make out the shape of her. I was so confused by what she was doing, I didn't know what to say.

The room went quiet. The next thing I felt was someone climbing onto the end of the bed. The covers lifted. Again, I asked Mom what she was up to. Again, I got no response.

I felt her now, crouched over my legs. The heat of her breath under the comforter. I realized: she was under the covers. Mom's touch but don't look policy was taking on a whole new dimension. I couldn't imagine what was about to happen, but I understood I was supposed to pretend like nothing was happening.

Mom lifted the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down. My dick popped free, quickly stiffening. Mom wrapped her hand around my shaft. The feeling was familiar and wonderful. I settled back, only wondering why Mom had chosen a position where I couldn't return the favor.

I felt a new sensation. Warm and wet. Oh my God. Those were the only words I could say. The only thoughts I could conjure.

"Oh my God," I said as Mom's mouth wrapped around my cock. Her tongue pressed under my dick.

I felt a hard pinch on my leg and realized that I'd spoken aloud. Mom's rules still applied. I was experiencing Schrodinger's blowjob in my bed. Or was it Heisenberg's Uncertainly Oral? Oh fuck, why did it matter? My Mom was sucking my cock!

She slurped up and down, sucking me off with the enthusiasm of an amateur and the skills of a pro. Like with the handjob before, I realized how bad all my previous girlfriends were at oral sex. The sounds of wet slurping filled the room.

My only thought, damn me, was how much I wanted to look under that blanket. To see Mom's mouth wide around my dick. Her sapphire eyes. Her golden hair. I wanted to experience it all. Yet I had to hold it in my head, only.

Mom worked me with abandon and soon I didn't care about anything except that place under the sheets where my cock connected with her mouth. I tried to stay silent, but with the way Mom was working me there was no way.

I wanted it to last forever. I doubted it took more than five minutes. Then I had a new problem. I knew Mom was fine with me cumming -- clearly by the way she was sucking me off it was currently her only goal in life. But I knew from previous experience I was supposed to warn a girl before I got off so she could prepare, as appropriate. Except, that would be breaking Mom's rule about pretending nothing was going on. This truly was a ground shaking dilemma.

Finally, I let my chivalry get in the way of my obedience.

"I'm getting close," I said, doing my best to keep my voice calm and even.

Mom didn't say or do anything, but I felt her redouble her efforts, now stroking my shaft at the same time she sucked at my head. A moment later, I was gone.

"oooOOOH FUCK!"

I couldn't help it; the pleasure was all too much. Through the white haze of ecstasy, I heard my mother gulping down my cum. I'd never exploded in a girl's mouth before. Even Cassie had always finished me with her fist.

Mom swallowed my spend like it was the world's tastiest treat. The sounds of her swallowing amplified my orgasm from brain blowing to mind shattering.

When I regained a sense of myself, Mom was gone. I lay back, panting from what had happened. Then my door popped open again. This time, the hallway light was on, and I could see Mom, standing there in her green, shapeless sleep shirt.

"Are you OK, honey?" Mom asked, coming into the room and standing over my bed. "I heard noises. Were you having a nightmare?"

"Oh, I'm sorry I woke you," I said, "No I actually had the most incredible dream."

"Well, that's OK then," Mom said, "You know I'll do anything to take care of you. The same way you take care of me. You did an amazing job the last few days of making me feel protected and safe. I just wanted to make sure I said, 'thank you' in a way that would mean something to you."

"I'm fine, Mom," I said. Actually, I was way better than fine. I was floating like a feather coming down from heaven.

"OK sweetie. Have a good night," Mom said. She bent over and kissed my forehead. Her breath smelled like my sperm.

*

I woke up early the next morning, before the sun was even up. I tiptoed out of my room, careful to avoid all the creaky spots in the hallway. When I got to my parents' bedroom door, I twisted the knob before pushing it forward. I hadn't even gotten to the naughty part of my plan, but already my stomach was twisting with the excitement of what I was about to do.

Mom was lying back in the bed, clearly out. I could see she still had the green sleep shirt on. Like she'd done the previous evening, I lifted up her comforter at the end of the bad and slipped under it. Mom stirred but stayed asleep.

I crawled up the bed, feeling my way up Mom's legs. For all her complaining about being out of shape, her calves and thighs felt as firm as a college girl's. Goddamn. I'd never been a leg man, but maybe it was time to try.

When I got to the bottom of Mom's shirt, I started to slowly push it up to her waist. I noticed the difference immediately: she wasn't wearing panties under there!

For a moment, I cursed the dark of the room. This was my chance, finally, to see Mom's bare pussy. Instead, I only got the vague sense of full labia and thick pubic hair. I could smell her slight musk, though, and that almost made up for everything else.

Then, for another moment, I had a far more wicked thought. I was under the covers with Mom, she was asleep, and my cock was hard as hell. Was I breaking the rules if I broke into her most sacred spot with my bare battering ram? After all, it was still under the sheets.

But I stopped myself from thinking further. I was already taking liberties no son should ever try for; going for more was asking far too much. At least, this time.

Instead, I leaned forward and tentatively licked at my mother's vagina. Her taste, still subtle, was even better than the smell of her. I'd gone down on previous girlfriends a couple of times, but it felt like the minor leagues compared to what I was doing now. I did what I thought would feel good, based on my mother's previous responses, and hoped for the best.

On my second lick of her clit, Mom groaned, low and stretched. Her head shot up from the pillow.

"Oh my!" She froze in place. "Well, that is just the oddest sensation," she said, regaining her composure as she sank back down into the bed.

Now that I had Mom's attention, I began to gradually build her up. First with my tongue, then supporting with my fingers. I heard her heavy breathing in the distance. I felt her legs tighten around my back.

I couldn't wait to make Mom cum. I didn't want it to ever end. But my selfless side won out. When I felt Mom's body begin to break, I gave her one last shove, sinking my tongue into her slot.

"HrrrrAH!" Mom cried out. Her legs closed over my head like a bear trap snapping shut. To my shock, a burst of warm liquid spattered on my tongue. Mom shook like she was having a seizure. Then she dropped back. Stilled. She didn't loosen her legs, though. She kept me there. Both of us panting heavily.

Finally, I had to tap out. I don't think Mom even realized she was holding me with her hips. But she opened them as soon as she felt me lightly slap her thigh. Careful to keep the illusion, I slipped silently out of the bottom of the bed, then crawled out of Mom's room.

Just like she had the night before, I came back a moment later, standing in the doorway like I didn't know what was going on.

"You OK?" I asked, "I was about to go out for my run when I heard something."

"Fine," Mom said, absently. I was gratified to see her post-orgasm face. Hair everywhere. Jaw slack. Cheeks a rude shade of red. Even her azure eyes were distant and unfocused. "I'm just, y'know, waking up."

"I'll make something when I get back," I said.

Mom nodded. I was about to step away when she said my name.

"Jay, honey?

"Yeah Mom?"

"So you know, you have some, um, stuff on your chin. And your cheeks. And a bit on your nose, too."

"Oh, weird," I said. I slowly dragged my finger on my face, then popped it into my mouth. Licking hard.

I swear Mom had another little cum as she watched me suck her juices off my finger.

*

"You should get some sun," Mom said, "Be tan for all the college hotties."

We were out in the backyard. Birds chirping happily over the low hush of leaves rustling in the wind. Someone's dog barked in the distance. Mom leaned back in her lounger while I carefully painted her toenails a playful shade of green.

Mom's eyes were half shut, to the point that I thought she might have fallen asleep before she spoke. Her hair, longer than usual from the lack of open salons, spilled out over the seat like a golden waterfall. Even though I knew Mom's ankle was fine, I still held it carefully, in case.

"There are no college hotties, Mom," I said.

She gave me a dubious look. "I understand that right now -- under quarantine and all -- that it's easy to forget that there is a whole world out there. But once you go back to school, I'm sure you'll meet some other girl. Lots of them, I imagine."

Her implication was clear. I nodded in agreement. "Of course," I said.

"So, you should do a bit of bronzing," Mom said. She looked at me, the challenge clear in her eyes. I gave it right back to her. Finally, I spoke.

"I will if you will," I said.

Mom's face pinked. "Honey, it's a little different for girls."

"So what?" I said, "There's no one in the backyard with us. The fence is plenty high to keep out random lookers."

"You're here," Mom said.

"So?"

Mom withered under the weight of my indisputable dialectic.

"Just my shirt," Mom said.

"You'll have tan lines," I said.

"Better than getting sunburned boobs," Mom said. We both giggled. I don't think either of us was expecting her to use that word.

"You first," I said.

Mom tipped her head at me and tsked her tongue.

"Both at the same time," I said.

"Fine," Mom said. She unbuttoned her flannel shirt and tossed it to the side. Then she took off her white, ribbed tank top.

I stared at the glory that was revealed. Mom was wearing a deep red lacy bra, nothing fancy, with a bit of a swooping cut that kept her breasts well covered. She had a cute little tummy with only the slightest hint of fat to it.

I'd imagined Mom's breasts more than a few times by now. They were better -- bigger, fuller -- than I'd ever conceived. And that was with the bra still on! My dick tried to shoot right out of my pants as my eyes traced every inch of my mother's newly bared body.

"Ahem," Mom said.

I'd been so entranced by her unveiling, I'd forgotten to do my own.

"Sorry," I said.

I reached down for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Mom stared straight at my chest, like a hungry cat. Then, and I swear this happened, I saw her little pink tongue slip out and lick her lips.

"That's, um, very nice," Mom said.

"You look good too," I said. I waited for Mom's usual self-hating argument, but instead she nodded, like she'd been hypnotized by my pecs. A little smirk snuck across her face.

"Eyes on your own paper, miss," I said, playfully. Again, I waited for her to snap back, but she said nothing.

"Can I touch it?" Mom asked. Her voice shaky like a teenager's.

"My chest?" I asked.

"Yeah." She licked her lips again, like her mouth was covered in cotton.

"I will if you..."

"No," Mom said. Her abrupt response made it clear that there was no way I could argue around it. "I just want to, you know, appreciate all the hard work you've done. On your body."

She said this like it made any sense at all. Like her explanation, in any way, added up to why she could fondle my bare chest. The weirdest part about her argument though, was that it worked.

"OK," I said, and leaned closer so Mom could touch me.

She reached over and slowly traced my pecs. Then she dragged lower, feeling the ridges of my six pack. I had a little tuft of dark hair down the middle of my chest, and she let her fingers tangle in it, the lime green nails shining through. Her wedding ring golden in the dark of my chest hair.

Mom moved her hand lower now. Down to the waistband of my shorts. I think both of us, for a second, thought she was about to do something more. Then she ripped her hand away; like she couldn't trust it.

"That's, um, very nice," Mom said, "You should be proud of all the exercise you're doing." She lay back and let her eyes drift shut.

"You sure you won't let me have a turn?" I asked.