My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 04

She didn't say anything. She didn't dispute what I said. She obviously was wrestling with what to say to me in reply. I pressed on before she could say anything.

"Mom," I said, "You've wanted to show yourself off ever since that time at the beach, when dad reacted badly. Well, I'm not like dad. I want you to show yourself off. I want you to feel free to do that. With me. In front of me. If you think about it, I'm the perfect person to do it in front of. I'll always love you and support you. I'll never hurt you or reject. And we can set appropriate boundaries."

Mom looked intently at me, her face tense and questioning.

"How do you suggest we do that, Randy?" she asked.

"I have an idea," I said. "We can talk about limits, right here, right now. We can make an agreement about what we will and won't do. We'll both agree to respect the boundaries we set. But first, there's something you need to do."

"What's that?" she asked softly.

It was all clear to me now, in a flash. I knew what I wanted to do; I knew what I wanted her to do. And I thought it would work for both of us. But I had to ask this one thing of her. I knew it was risky, but I had to ask her.

"Mom, take your robe off."

"What?" she said.

"Take your robe off," I said. "Right now. Sit in front of me without your robe."

"How is that setting boundaries?" she asked.

"Take your robe off and I'll show you," I said.

I could tell from the changing expression on her face -- the twists of the mouth and the eyebrows -- that she was wrestling inside with my suggestion.

But she didn't wrestle long. Keeping her eyes on mine, mom reached down and undid the sash around her waist. Then she pulled the robe back and off her shoulders. She lifted her butt to pull the robe off her legs.

Mom wore French-cut white lace panties, and nothing more. Her full, beautiful breasts were bare. She sat no more than three feet from me. Her legs lay under her, with her butt on her feet, and she held her hands down at her side, fingertips on the sofa. She was magnificent. Her breasts were full and ripe, and a little paler where the bikini top had hidden them from the sun. The panties were no more than about an inch wide on the side, and they sat high on her hip but dipped low in the middle, exposing the upper part of her pubic bone. I thought I saw a few stray blond hairs peeking out the top. Mom sat in that position, not saying anything, demure and quiet, staring at me.

"Mom, you are so beautiful," I said.

"Thank you," she said, in not much more than a whisper.

"Come here," I beckoned to her with my hand. "Sit on my lap."

"Randy --"

"Just do it, mom," I said. "I'll explain, but I want you to sit on my lap while I do."

She delayed for a moment, but she came to me. She got off her heels and scooted across the sofa, into my lap. Her legs lay out in front of her. Her hands lay, one over the other, in her lap. She looked down, and I thought I saw her lip quiver.

I put my arms around her, one around her shoulder, and one lightly on her waist -- nothing sexual.

"Mom, look at me," I said. She did. We looked into each other's eyes.

"I love you, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Randy."

"I know," I said. "And this is part of our love. I like to see you like this. I want to continue to see you like this, and I want you to continue showing yourself to me. I think we would both like that.

"We need to set some boundaries, so we will. Here's my idea: look, but don't touch. You're going to keep getting naked. You're going to show yourself off to me, and I'm going to watch you. And I'm going to keep masturbating to you. And you're going to masturbate when you do it, too. We can't pretend that's not going to happen, so we should be honest. Maybe we can even do it in front of each other. I'd like that. We'll see.

"But we won't fuck. I won't fuck you, mom. And to preserve our boundaries, to keep that from happening, I won't touch you down there. I won't touch your pussy."

"Or . . . " she started to say.

"Or your asshole. I will leave your asshole alone. And I won't touch your tits. And you won't touch my cock."

"I think it's a little late for that, already, tiger," she said, "if you know what I mean." She looked down toward my lap.

My cock was rock hard and straining up against the cloth of my shorts, and I know she felt it pushing against her. In fact, the head of my cock was pushing somewhere between her legs, probably very close to her pussy, shrouded only by a thin layer of white lace.

"That's different," I said. "My clothes are between us. That's why I kept my shorts on now. Nothing can happen when we're like this. But when I'm naked, you won't touch my cock.

"So how does that sound to you?" I asked.

"It sounds weird, Randy," she said. "I don't know about this. I'm not sure if we should."

"Mom, listen to yourself. Should. The word 'should' has nothing to do with this. Don't think in terms of 'should.' Look at you. You're on my lap, practically naked, and my arms are around you. We both want this. We're not doing anything wrong, and deep inside you, you know this isn't wrong and nothing harmful is going to happen because of it. So, how about it? How about working with those boundaries?"

Her head bobbed around. She was struggling with the idea. But she spoke at last.

"O.K.," she said at last. "We can give it a try. But we have to be strict about the limits or it can't work."

Her arms were up, around my shoulders. Her fingernails scraped lovingly against the nape of my neck. The feeling of it was magical.

I smiled at my beautiful, naked mother. And then I kissed her. A quick, gentle peck on the nose.

"I agree, mom," I said.

I pulled back and we both looked at each other lovingly, and then I moved closer again and I gave her another kiss, a soft little kiss, to the side of her mouth. Then with my hand I gently turned her face up so I could plant a row of soft kisses on her chin, and then down her neck. I heard mom purr. Then with my hand I turned her face back to mine, and we looked into each other's eyes, and then I kissed her on the lips.

I kissed her softly at first, and she returned the kiss. I pressed harder, and she did too.

Soon we were kissing each other, deeply and passionately. I pushed my tongue past her lips into her mouth, and it sought her tongue. Our tongues danced together as our open mouths pressed against each other. In that moment, I wanted all of her, I wanted nothing to be held back. I was delirious with desire. I never had kissed such a beautiful woman.

You know that magical moment when you kiss a girl for the first time, a girl you've wanted and pined after? That magical moment where all those new sensations envelope you at once -- the taste of her mouth, the scent of her neck, the feel of her waist and breasts under your eager hands?

This moment was like that, only ten times better. Mom was not only in my arms, but nearly naked. She wasn't a girl, she was my mom. My hands were pressed against the bare, luminous skin of her waist. Her full breasts were inches from me, her tits nearly pressed against my shirt. I reached a hand out and ran it through her thick blond hair.

We kissed, on and on. I was careful with my hands. I held her tightly against me, and I moved my hands against her back and shoulders in broad circles, but I kept them away from her breasts and from between her legs.

I gestured toward her leg.

"Come here, mom," I said. "Swing this leg around to the other side of me. I want you to face me."

Mom complied. She straddled me. Her legs parted. I saw the thin strip of lace between her legs, and the bare skin on either side of the strip. It would have taken no effort to slip a finger under that lace strip, and to run it up and down the delicate lips of her pussy. She was excited, I could tell, and I don't think she would have stopped me if I'd tried. But I didn't. We had just set some boundaries, and I needed to show mom that I could stick to them.

But within those boundaries, there was a lot we could do.

I continued kissing her, deeply and ardently. She kissed me back just as vigorously, and I heard a small moan well up from her chest.

I decided to push things -- just a little. I pushed my lap up against her, just a bit. My erection pressed directly against the lace-covered mound between her legs. I pressed it like that several times, just barely, enough that she would feel it, but no so hard that she would worry I would lose control.

And then I felt her push back. My cock was a thick rod, pointed straight up under the shorts and ending just an inch from the waist band. Mom began pushing her mound against it, the lace-covered panties dragging several inches along my length. She pulled her panty-clad pussy mound back, and then she pushed it against me again.

The pushing became a steady, rhythmic rocking, her lace-layered pussy against my shorts-covered cock.

I slid a hand down to her bottom, uncovered by the lace thong back. My other hand held her firmly on the side. I shifted position, and I began pressing against her, pushing her down and back against the sofa. Soon I was on top of her.

Her legs lifted and squeezed my waist, and I felt her feet cross and lock behind me. We kept rocking our hips against each other.

My lips pressed against hers. Neither of us wanted to come up for air. Our mouths remained against one another, tightly and urgently, as our tongues danced and explored one another. I felt her grind her hips against me gently. Whatever boundaries we had set, we were pushing against them.

My hand remained on her ass, and I squeezed it, gently at first and then with greater strength. My fingertips reached forward until they were only inches from the cleft between her cheeks. With just a little forward movement I could have run my finger up and down the crack, pushing under her thong, or probed her asshole, or pushed it between the folds of her pussy. I wanted to. But we had agreed on setting some boundaries, and, as difficult as it was to hold back, I did.

We kissed and writhed and grabbed each other like that for a long time -- I don't know how long.

The entire time we writhed and clutched each other on the sofa, mom's legs were spread and her lace-covered pussy was pressed firmly against my hard cock, nothing more than a millimeter or so of fabric separating my cock and her pussy. She was moving back and forth and rocking her hips against me the whole time. But -- and I know this is hard to believe -- I wasn't thinking about that. Instead, I was thinking about mom's lips and mouth, and how much I craved them, and the feeling of my mouth and lips on hers. I couldn't get enough of kissing mom. The tip of her tongue entered my mouth, and my tongue pushed back.

But if my mind was focused on kissing my mom, my body was responding to the grinding motion of her covered pussy on my cock. Our steady dry-humping was bringing me near climax. My breathing grew more ragged and urgent and I moaned "mom, mom" between our kisses.

I picked up the pace of the grinding on mom's mound. I didn't care that my efforts would fill my shorts with sticky cum. The faster pace seemed to accelerate mom's arousal as well; soon the pace of her breathing and her higher-pitched moans matched mine.

"Randy, Randy," she called softly.

Then I felt the release coming, and I pushed my hips and cock forward against her in big, urgent sweeps to bring my need for release to fruition. Then I felt it: thick spurt after thick spurt of sticky wetness inside my shorts. My body shook and I nearly pulled away from mom, but she held my butt with her hand and said "Don't stop, I'm almost there!" A few seconds after I was done I felt mom's back arch, and she shuddered with relief and joy as well.

After we finished my body collapsed against and on top of her. I held the side of my face against hers and my lean, firm chest mashed down against her full, ripe breasts.

We lay like that for minutes -- I don't know how many. Five, ten, I don't know. A surge of pleasure swept my body and I almost dozed. But not quite. I remained alert and awake despite the thick feeling of spent pleasure that coursed through my body.

I pulled away from mom and stood up and over her, looking down on her. She lay back on the sofa with arms thrown back and hands above her head. Her hair framed her face in a wild blond mane. Her full breasts lolled over her thin and lightly muscled chest and shoulders. Her lips were parted and her eyes stared widely at me.

Standing up reminded me of the flood of wetness under my shorts. I unbuttoned and unzipped them. Then I let them drop to the ground and stepped out of them. I pulled my shirt off. I stood completely naked in front of mom. My cock no longer was at full length, but I was glad to see it still was longer and thicker than normal, and as soon as it popped out of my shorts mom's eyes were glued to it.

I bent over and retrieved the shorts, and I used them to wipe up the remaining cum on my cock. I tossed the shorts back on the floor.

I stood over my mom again, and my cock hung about two feet from her face. She was sitting up on the sofa now, and her face was level with it. She looked at it and then looked up at me.

I didn't know what had come over me. I had always had the gift of gab, and for a while I had known what to say to girls. But being with mom like this gave me a confidence I'd never felt before. I stood completely naked over her with my cock swinging no more than two feet from her lips, and I felt no shame or guilt or nervousness. Something about it felt right. It was like all the pieces were falling into place, and I felt confident about what to do and what to say.

But I could tell mom wasn't quite there. I'd unlocked her desire to show herself off, and I'd gotten her to admit her desire to me. We had both come together. But I could tell she was nervous and uncertain about what we were doing, even though her body was loving it.

I knew, for a certainty, that I wanted to keep pushing things with mom. I thought she'd be receptive if I handled it the right way. I just had to keep things at the right pace, and at the right rhythm.

"Do you like what you see?" I asked her.

She grinned slightly and cocked her head back and forth, appraising my cock from two sides. Then she looked back at me.

"Impressive," she said.

"How does it compare with dad's?" I asked.

"You are very pushy with the questions, naughty boy," she said. "That was one area with your dad where I had no complaints. But you might be a little bit bigger."

She laughed. "Don't get a big head about it."

I grinned.

"That's not what's going to get big, mom. It's my cock that's going to get big when you keep taking your clothes off like this in front of me."

"You sound confident I'm going to keep doing this," she said.

"I am confident, mom," I said. "You're going to get naked for me, a lot. You're going to show off for me and you're going to spread your legs. You're going to let me take photos of you. We're going to keep kissing like we just did. I'm going to come with you again, too."

I squatted down in front of her as I said it, until my face was a little below hers, and with my hands I gently pushed her knees farther apart. I kept pushing them until they were as far as back as they would go against the edge of the sofa.

The strip of lace between her legs was perhaps no more than an inch and a half wide, enough to cover the most intimate details of her sex but not enough fully to hide her outer labia, which mounded sweetly on either side. An obvious damp spot blotted the center of the white lacy strip.

I touched my finger to it. I started at the bottom and moved it up slowly until I felt the fabric give way just a little, where my finger found the spot just over the entrance to her pussy, the source of all the wetness. Although the pressure of my finger was light, it was enough to create a dimple in her thong. My finger pressed inward and entered the shallow dimple, and the white lace closed around my finger. In a way, I was finger-fucking my mom, now, I thought.

"Randy," she said, "I don't think we should do that."

But she pushed forward, against my finger, slightly but noticeably, as she spoke.

"I'm not breaking any boundaries, mom," I said. "And I'm not going to. We agreed to them and I'm going to stick by them."

I looked in mom's eyes with arched eyebrows.

"What about you, mom?" I asked. "Are you going to stick with our boundaries?"

She had started to rock herself more noticeably against my finger as I spoke, and she was staring down at what she was doing, but my question seemed to snap her attention away from the needs of her body. She pulled back an inch, parting her lace-covered pussy from my finger, and she looked up at me.

"Of course," she said. "Randy, we absolutely have to stick with these boundaries."

"I'm glad we agree on that, mom," I said.

"Just a sec," I added.

I stood up and walked over to a counter where I had left my phone.

"What are you doing?" mom asked.

She hadn't moved; she remained on the edge of the sofa with her legs splayed wide on either side and her hands supporting her on the sofa on either side of her.

"I'm going to take some pictures of you, mom," I said. "I've already taken photos of you naked but I want to record this moment between us, where you're showing yourself to me deliberately for the first time."

I loved the combination of nerves and desire I saw in her face, the internal battle she was going through between yes and no. So far, the yes side was winning, and I wanted to press my advantage and keep it that way.

"Point your toes," I said.

She put her hands on her knees and propped her feet up on her toes, keeping her legs wide. She threw her shoulders back and her pushed her ripe breasts toward me. I took two photos like that.

"O.K., mom," I continued. "I want you to turn around and put your hands on the top of the sofa. I'm going to take a photo of that sweet ass of yours."

She turned around, and her ass was even sweeter than I thought it would be. Mom's whole body was lean and well-defined from years of steady exercise, but her butt still was rounded and feminine -- more than I might have expected. The lace thong completely disappeared in the crack between her legs underneath and then reemerged to join in an inch-wide strip with the horizontal strip across her waist.

"Spread your legs apart more, mom," I said. I knew I was going to be telling her to do that a lot, and I knew she was going to do it a lot and like it.

I moved around from side to side and took a few photos of her in that position.

"Turn around and sit back on the sofa again," I said.

She did so.

I set my phone on the floor and approached her again.

I put my hands on her knees, and I brought them together. Then I pushed my hands up her thighs, my fingers savoring the touch of her skin underneath. My fingers stopped at the white thong, and I hooked them under the edge of the light fabric.

"What are you doing?" she asked, a trace of nervousness in her voice.

"These panties are wet," I said. "Too wet for you to wear. I'm going to take them off for you. Now lift up." I said it firmly but politely.

She hesitated, but then she complied. She lifted her hips, just slightly. I seized the opportunity and gripped the lace garment and pulled it down. She brought her legs together to help me and I pulled the thong all the way off and dropped it on top of my shorts.

Now, for the first time, mom sat completely and knowingly naked in front of me. She didn't try to hide anything.

"I want you to scoot out all the way to the edge of the sofa," I said, "And then spread your legs wide again."

Mom took a deep breath. I could see the uncertainty in her face, but I could tell she was going to do it. She did.