My Mom, Saturday Morning

At night she often wore a long white shirt. On weekends, she often kept her sleeping clothes on in the morning when she walked around the house. When she came near the window, or actually when she walked past a window from my perspective, her shirt would shine through. Then the daylight shone through and I could see the silhouette of her body. Or at least enough to get my imagination going at age nineteen. I figured that out pretty quickly. Out of curiosity, I kept seeking it out. I would often walk past my mother along the backside of the room from her, during the weekends. Then I could sometimes take in the sight of the outline of her breasts for minutes at a time without her even noticing. Or at least, that's what I assumed at the time. Is it possible that she did notice?

Often I would stand at the kitchen island and watch her. As I stood behind the kitchen island, she couldn't see my hard-on in my pajama pants. And when I leaned forward, my hard-on pressed against the cupboard doors of the kitchen island. This way I could almost give myself an orgasm. Open and exposed, in our own home, yet without anyone noticing. The last little push over the edge just didn't work this way, so I would end up standing there with a hard-on for fifteen minutes or more. All while my mother was just doing her own thing, or even talking to me. I've wondered a few times if my mother couldn't tell from my eyes or my cheeks that I was aroused and only inches away from an orgasm.

At an unguarded moment, I would walk away and go back to my room. I didn't have to do much anymore to help myself. A few subtle movements and my ejaculation was a fact.

I secretly hoped that my mother would catch me sooner or later. In the kitchen, or back in my room. I kinda wanted to tell her, or show her, that this is what she did to me. After a big ejaculation, I looked at my own cum. It had become quite a little puddle, and I thought "if only she knew". In a way I even thought: "She deserves it, she has the right, to be a witness of this." None of that seemed like it would ever happen... until it did. What happened after that point, I'd like to tell you.

While I was making my bread one day, my mother walked over to my side of the kitchen. "I'll just press some orange juice." she said. As she walked past the kitchen island, I made a small turn of my body towards her. My hard-on escaped its hold between my crotch and the cupboards, and it swung to the left under the fabric of my pajama pants.

My mother paused for a second as she walked by me. "Oh. Erm..." she stammered in surprise. She kept walking on almost immediately, but it was clear to both of us that she had caught me in the corner of her eye. I continued spreading my bread as if nothing had happened. But after a minute or so, I walked away from the kitchen to my bedroom as I had done before. I stayed away there several minutes. My instincts told me not to stay away too long and to go back to the kitchen. But somehow I knew it didn't matter much. My mother now probably knew why I was gone from the kitchen. And just in case she didn't know yet, I secretly hoped that I would stay away just long enough for her to draw the conclusion after all. After a few minutes I walked back to the kitchen and picked up where I left off. My mother didn't say a word about it. "Would you like a glass of orange juice?" she asked shortly after I returned.

The following weekend nothing special happened. My mother, not coincidentally I think, walked past the kitchen island where I was standing in the same way. But I didn't have a hard-on then, and nothing special happened that day.

The following week it happened again. Once again I was standing in the kitchen with a big hard-on, and sure enough, again my mother walked past me at some point. She didn't even stop to take a look. But a minute after she had walked past me, she walked back and whispered in my ear, "Maybe you should go upstairs."

I was speechless, but somewhere deep inside me, something cheered. I couldn't believe this had happened. I tried to respond as if I didn't know what she was talking about. And again I continued making my breakfast as if nothing had happened. After a few minutes though, I gathered my courage and walked out of the kitchen, secretly hoping my mother would notice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother looking sideways in my direction. She stood there motionless with her hands leaning on the countertop facing the wall, while her eyes closely followed my exit out of the living room.

When I returned to the kitchen, my mother was sitting at the table with her breakfast. She looked my way. Although I tried to avoid her gaze, our eyes did meet. "Everything okay, sweety?" she asked in a friendly voice.

"Yeah, why?" I asked innocently. My mother merely wasn't fooled. I couldn't hide emotions from her if I tried. She smiled as she took another sip of coffee and said nothing else. She sat quietly as she calmly continued to eat her breakfast.

In those following weeks, it seemed as if my mother was pushing the boundaries further and further. She stood in front of the large window with a cup of coffee remarkably frequently, and for a suspiciously long time. Looking outside through the window, her body half turned towards where I was standing at any given time, giving me a majestic view. At one time she lifted her arms to stretch when she suspected I was watching in her direction, which was a correct assumption. As the fabric of her shirt slid up over her breasts, her belly button and part of her stomach peeked out from under her shirt.

Another time I noticed that I could see the outline of a thong under her pajama bottoms, which I had never noticed before. She stood there slowly rocking her hips from side to side. As if she wanted to make sure I'd seen everything: her breasts, her hips, and the thong under her pajama pants. Looking over her shoulder, she followed my walk from the kitchen to the room door. Behind me, I heard her sipping her coffee as I walked out of the room.

This went on for several weeks. It seemed like a game. Or a show that my mother happily kept putting on, especially for me. It felt like this could go on for months, or years. In hindsight, I suspect that was actually her plan too. But she was a human being of flesh and blood too. She too had a degree of self-control that wasn't infinite. She too could lose her self-control, as it turned out a few weeks later. One weekend morning I walked towards the kitchen again. My mother was usually downstairs earlier. But now I walked past her bedroom, and her door was still closed. I wanted to call her, but I changed my mind at the last minute. First of all, I didn't like being called out of bed on weekends myself either. And something inside me felt the desire to listen at her closed door. And what I heard next... A soft moan came from her room. I couldn't believe my ears. I held my hand over my mouth to keep even my breathing from making a sound. In a reflex, I wanted to continue walking carefully towards the living room, but instead, I stopped. I kept listening. And I heard her moans getting gradually higher and faster. It was still a somewhat soft moan, as if she were hidden under her duvet, but it was audible enough for me through the door. After a longer, lower moan, it suddenly became quiet. "Shit!" I thought. Because now it had suddenly become very difficult to continue walking unnoticed. I made a careful attempt, but the moment I started walking, the parquet floor creaked kinda loudly. There was no possible doubt left that I had just started walking from a standstill. No possibility left that I just happened to walk past her door at that moment. No, I'd clearly been standing there listening, and now she must have heard it too.

When my mother walked into the kitchen a little later and I was already standing there, she didn't say anything. And me neither. She looked my way intently a few times but then sat down at the table and remained silent. When she'd finished her breakfast she sat quietly for a moment. It was almost as if she was praying. She was probably thinking about her next move. Because a moment later she got up, walked in a straight line to the kitchen, passing quickly behind me, and she whispered in my ear again the familiar words: "Maybe you should go upstairs."

I was perplexed for a moment. I didn't have a hard-on at all this morning, and she couldn't possibly have seen it either. I was speechless. When I turned my head to the side, she was still standing there, looking patiently but intently at me. She kept looking at me for another moment before she left and sat back down at the table.

Just for show, I took a few more bites of my bread. It felt like part of a theater recital. Then I slowly walked out of the room, towards the stairs. As I walked through the doorway, I could distinctly hear the sound behind me of my mother sliding her chair backward to get up.

In my room, I didn't know exactly what to do next. I sat on my bed with my hands on my knees. Thoughts running through my head. Did this just actually happen? Was this a misunderstanding born from my deepest fantasies? At this point I just sat there waiting to find out. By now I did have a hard-on. In my pajama bottoms it pointed upwards at an angle. It wasn't long before I heard my mother approaching in the hallway. She was calmly walking towards my door.

Subconsciously I felt the urge to undress myself. I kinda wanted to see my mother's reaction when she walked in and I was sitting on the bed with a naked hard-on. But I didn't dare to do it. Although at the same time I realized it didn't matter much, because again, my hard-on was clearly visible even with my clothes on.

*knock-knock*

My mother now stood in front of my room door. After a few moments of silence, the door slowly opened.

She came inside.

"Hi, honey."

She didn't seem to be looking at the hard-on in my pants. She must have seen it, but she did a good job of not making it glaringly obvious. She walked over to me and sat beside me on my bed.

"Are you okay?" she asked kindly.

I made a small nod.

"I didn't mean to scare you. You don't have to be ashamed, you know."

She put her hand on my thigh.

"Can I have a look?"

I looked at her in shock. She now put her hand on my shoulder.

"Do you want me to help you, honey?" she asked, looking at me.

I nodded hesitantly. So subtle that it was almost invisible, but my mother saw enough confirmation.

"Just take it off." she said while looking at my crotch.

I felt my heart pounding in my throat. I didn't know whether I should get up or stay seated. She placed her hand on my upper back, as if to help me stand up.

"Come on honey, I'll help you."

I stood up slowly, and hesitantly turned to face her. My mother reached her arms towards my waist, and slowly began to sweep my pants and underwear down near my hips. She looked at me while still sitting on the bed.

"Come on, honey. I kinda wanna see it with my own eyes now."

When my hard-on emerged, her eyes slowly widened.

"Is-is this what I do to you?" she stammered. "Is this how your mother affects you?" she asked, in a tone that was more pleased than judgmental.

I nodded again cautiously.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you naked, honey. But not for the first time of course." she said cheerfully.

"Can I touch you?"

I hesitated. I wanted nothing more, but at the same time I found it terrifying. I still found it very hard to believe all of this was really happening.

"Wait, let me make it more equal for you, honey." she quickly added.

She stood up and pulled down her pajama pants. A red thong emerged. She slowly pulled that down too. Placing her hands gently on her bare hips, she slowly sat back down.

She looked at me and said: "You can undress me first if you want?"

As she said this, her hands gripped the bottom of her pajama shirt, and she kept sitting motionless that way, while she looked at me.

"Go ahead, honey. You wanna see what's underneath, right? It's okay."

I moved my hands towards her shirt. The last hesitations I still had were removed when she grabbed my wrists and brought them to her hips. As I grabbed her shirt she let go of my hands and softly stroked my cheek. Then she raised her arms in the air. I pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her breasts.

"So, you like them?" she asked.

- "Yeah..." I said softly, with wide eyes.

She took her hands and held her breasts up, and looked at me. She smiled and sniffed contentedly through her nose.

"Take that off too." she nodded at my shirt.

I pulled it up. As the shirt went over my head I suddenly felt her hand softly wrapping around my penis. Startled, I made the final move to throw my shirt on the floor. I looked at her. She was looking at my penis.

"Hmm... gee." she softly muttered.

My body shook. A sudden burst of air came out of my mouth as I looked at my mother's hand holding my erect penis.

"Is that all because of me?" she asked in a playful voice.

- "Mom... I can't help it." it suddenly popped out of my mouth.

"There's no need to be ashamed, honey."

She looked at my hard-on again.

"You don't have to be ashamed at all. Not for me."

I probably still had a slight look of shock on my face. She reached out her arms, grabbed me around my buttocks, and pulled my body towards her. My hard-on pressed into her soft breasts, and she rested her head against my stomach. First she placed her cheek on my stomach. Then she gave me a kiss.

"What do you normally do to help yourself? When you go upstairs?"

- "I-I..." I stammered.

"Go ahead, honey. I'd like to see it. If it's okay with you."

My mother grabbed my hand to help me. She put my hand on my hard-on. I started moving my hand back and forth like I always did. With short, kinda fast movements. She placed her hands on either side of my hips and gently stroked up and down. She looked at me beamingly. She moved her shoulders gently back and forth, causing her breasts to softly sway back and forth in front of me.

"It's a bit easier for you this way, right?" she said.

She watched the movements of my hand.

"Slow down, honey. Go longer."

She grabbed my wrist and guided my hand forward and back, making slower, deeper strokes.

"That's nicer, isn't it?" she said softly.

I moaned softly and pressed my lips together. She looked at me intently. She bit her lower lip gently as she began to massage her breasts.

I went from one surprise to another. I hadn't seen my mother's breasts naked for many years. Let alone ever seeing her bite her lip. It was an incredible feeling, this self-gratification while my mother watched patiently and approvingly. I knew I would cum soon if I continued like this. Suddenly I didn't really know how to proceed. I didn't really dare anymore. I didn't know why exactly. She saw it in my eyes.

"Go ahead, honey. It's nice to see... you're so beautiful. And you've grown so big."

- "But... Mom, I..." I stammered, half-moaning. I looked down at my hard-on, which felt like it was about to burst.

"Are you almost ready, honey? You feel it coming?" she half-whispered.

She parted her legs and started stroking her vagina very slowly. She moaned softly, and as she closed her eyes, she continued to rub my thigh with her other hand.

"Come on honey... keep going... I like it so much..."

- "Mom... what... do you want... should I..."

"Yes, honey... just cum. When you're ready. On me. Please... go ahead. That'd be so nice... on my breasts..."

- "Really...?" I moaned.

"Yeah, I mean it. Go ahead, just do it."

- "Mmm. Almost... mom... almost..." I groaned.

"Hmmmmmm!" she moaned enthusiastically.

"Can I help you, honey? The last bit?" she asked.

- "Yeah..." I said hesitantly. I didn't know exactly what she wanted.

"I wanna feel it so bad when you come. I wanna feel it."

She then put her right hand under my balls and started massaging gently.

"Just go on baby... keep going..."

With her other hand she massaged her chest. To give me the final push of stimulation. But it was also as if she was marking the target with her hand. She wanted to feel my ejaculation.

- "Mom... I'm almost coming... I'm coming..."

"Yes, yes, come on baby... just shoot... so nice..."

- "Mh... mmmhh... mom... mom..." I felt my orgasm rising from my balls. From my mom's soft hand right through my balls and to my penis.

My mom felt my muscles tense.

"Yes!" she said as she suddenly squeezed my balls firmly. She then pulled on them gently.

- "Aaaaahhhhh....." I screamed as my cum shot towards my mother's chest.

I reflexively reached towards her with my left arm and grabbed her shoulder with my hand. Involuntarily I squeezed it pretty hard, but she didn't budge. She only moaned a little, but not in pain. She continued to massage her chest until my first shot of cum hit her hand. She now held her hand up, not to stop my cum, but to feel it land on her hand.

"Oooh... so nice... sweety... just shoot." she said, while her face beamed. "I love it..."

My next shots of cum hit the inside of her hand, her breasts, and a drop even landed on her neck. When my ejaculation slowly faded, she grabbed my hand that was on her shoulder. She caressed it gently. With her other hand she rubbed my cum all over her breasts.

"Hmm... was it nice honey? I liked it so much..." she asked, looking down at her breasts.

- "Yes..." I said softly.

"You want me to clean you up?"

- "I..."

Again I stammered because I didn't immediately know what she meant.

She rubbed the cum that was still on her hand off on the side of her breast. Then she grabbed my penis, first with one hand, and then with the other. With one hand she held my foreskin back, and with the other, she rubbed the cum that was still hanging on the tip of my penis towards her. Then she pulled my foreskin back forward with the other hand.

She wiped her hands on her breasts again. She pouted her mouth seriously, as if to say "There, all cleaned up."

She looked at me happily as she leaned back slightly on my bed. With part of her hands still half covered in cum, she leaned on my duvet. She grinned mischievously as she looked at me. With her right hand she grabbed her vagina again. I looked a little startled.

"Don't worry honey. I can't get pregnant. But everything else still works just fine." she said while she winked at me.

She gently rubbed her clitoris.

"Would you like to touch me too, honey?" she asked looking at me.

- "I... well..." I stammered.

Actually, I longed for it. Her soft round shapes. She was so sweet to me. And her body was exciting, beautiful. A few small wrinkles here and there, but they only made her more real. It made me want to touch her soft skin. And I longed to touch her vagina. It looked so soft when she was caressing it herself. But I didn't know if I wanted it right now. I was still recovering from earlier.

"Or should we save that for next time, dear?"

- "Next time?"

"I would like that. If you like it too."

- "Yeah, I think so." I said kinda hesitantly.

But she could tell from my face that I wanted more.

It was quiet for a moment. She chuckled.

"I'll keep an eye on you, you know. And I'll continue to wear my shirts on Saturday mornings." she said while she winked at me.

I couldn't suppress a blushing smile.

"You wanna lay next to me, darling?" she then asked.

- "Yeah okay." I said cautiously.

Suddenly she stood up.

"I'll be right back."

She walked out of my room naked, right into the hallway. She paraded like a fashion model. I had never seen my mother walk like that before. I heard a tap running in the bathroom. After only a minute she was back again. As naked as she had left. She smiled nervously for a moment, as if I was looking at her naked for the first time.