Shepherd's Pie

I would have answered, if only she hadn't chosen that exact moment to set her ass on top of my groin. The frown on her face instantly told me she could feel how hard I was. I expected her to jump right up. Instead, she just sat there for a second, looking at me with this tortured look on her face like I'd murdered someone.

Finally, she whispered softly, with this cold, distant look in her eyes.

"Uh, Chris...is that what I think it is?"

It was just like the phone call over again. Only this time, there was no clever way for me to spin it. I was far too humiliated to look her directly in the face. Instead, I quietly looked down and slowly nodded my head. I wanted to say something, but all I could focus on was the smoothness of her leggings as she pressed her ass firmly against my cock.

Intended for yoga, the leggings felt more like velvety tights, not sheer like pantyhose, yet every bit as soft to the touch. On the plus side, the fabric was made from Lycra spandex, which visibly made them fit like a glove.

Finally, Mom pulled her arm away and slowly stood up, folding her arms in front of her.

"Maybe you should tell me what you were really doing while I was gone," she said in an accusing tone.

Still unable to face her, I lifted my sweaty palms and started to rub them against my shorts.

"I wasn't doing anything," I answered meekly. "Sometimes it just happens. I'm only 19."

"I see," Mom said, nodding her head. "Look, I understand that you're young and you need sex. But I can't have you walking around the house like that. We talked about this once already. I hope you remember what you promised me."

"Yes, I remember. But finding a girlfriend isn't that easy. It takes time."

"Okay, maybe you're right," she said. "So in the meantime, what should we do?"

"I don't know," I said, shrugging it off. "I'll just have to deal with it on my own."

"Fine," Mom said. "Why don't you go ahead and do that so we can get back to work."

Granted, the logical thing to do in that situation would have probably been to stand up and go to my room. Instead of doing that, I chose to make light of the situation, hoping to cut the tension by seeing if Mom was willing to have a sense of humor about the whole thing.

"So what," I said, staring back defiantly, "should I just whip it out right here?"

She had already started to turn away. Then she slowly twisted her head back, arms folded as she glared at me through the narrow slits of her eyes.

"You haven't got the balls to try anything like that."

Her response hit me like a punch in the gut. My whole adolescence was littered with people calling me a wimp. I'd never been good at sports. In school, I got picked on for being the skinniest boy in class. Girls pointed and laughed at my scrawny build, knowing I was too chicken to fight back. I'd been putting up with bullies for as long as I could remember. I wasn't about to sit there and get bullied by my own mother.

Instead of looking down, I looked Mom square in the eye, as I jerked down my zipper, reached in and promptly pulled out my cock.

"Okay, time out," Mom said, putting her hands up. "This has gone far enough. Put your dick back in your pants, right now. I'm not joking."

"Neither am I," I said, pointing the tip straight at her. "You told me I needed to cum. So that's what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, don't watch."

"Don't watch?" she said, raising an eyebrow, with a mild laugh and an obvious smirk on her face. "So you just expect me to ignore you while you sit there touching yourself? You want me to act like this is normal?"

"Sure," I said, "as long as you stay where I can see you."

"Wow, you've got some nerve," Mom said, dropping her head to her chest, before wearily rubbing her forehead. After a brief moment, she slowly raised her head up, responding with a short nod, as she quietly answered. "Fine, do what you want. I can't stop you. But don't even think about trying this again. Once you get off, we will never mention this again."

Admittedly, it would have been easy to stop right there. I could have easily controlled myself, if only Mom had done something besides walk over, snatch my cigarettes, and light one up right in front of me. She wasn't a smoker and she'd obviously chosen to ignore her own rule about smoking inside the house. Still, after clearing a space for herself on the table, she propped herself up, then slowly inhaled, with an air of sophistication that only made my dick harder as she gracefully crossed her legs in black spandex.

"Don't take all day," she snapped over a puff of smoke. "You're lucky I'm allowing this at all."

I wasn't expecting any sympathy, yet I still felt compelled to explain why it was taking so long.

"Sorry, my hand's pretty dry," I said.

She sat there thinking for a second, startling me as she sprang up, with cigarette in hand, as she marched back over toward the counter. She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a small plastic bottle. She screwed off the cap, then boldly walked over and stood above the chair where I was sitting. Bottle in hand, she leaned over the head of my cock, squirting out a generous glob of creamy lotion, which dribbled down all over my shaft.

"Will that help?" she said, with a grin on her face which I instantly read as mild amusement.

"Very much," I said, gripping my penis around the base, making her watch as I slid my balled fist up to the head, spreading the lotion over my veiny foreskin, making it glisten from all sides, enabling me to enjoy the feeling of my own slippery hand, rising and falling around my rigid shaft, as I sat in front of her and boldly continued to jerk off.

I sat there hoping she would study my technique, imagining one day to feel her hand instead of my own. The look on her face lacked any form of expression, as if to prevent me from noticing any signs of interest in her cold, lifeless eyes.

"Um, we should really speed this up," she said, dropping her hands to her hips. "Is there something else I can do?"

"Sure," I said, hoping to push this even further. "You could turn around and show me your butt."

"Oh, I could, huh?" she said. "Will that get you off...if I turn around and show you my ass?"

"Mmm, yes please."

"Oh," she said, smiling openly. "I like it when you say please. Go on, little boy. Say 'please Mom, may I look at your ass?'"

Hearing her sexy, commanding voice, with its air of implicit power, prompted the increased rhythm of my hand, as I looked up, begging with enthusiasm.

"Please, Mom," I said earnestly. "Please, may I look at your beautiful ass?"

"Hmm," she said with a snicker. "You did that very well," she added, slowly turning around. She arched her back slightly, with her ass sticking out less than three inches from my face.

"How's that?" she said, poking it out. "Tell me how good it looks."

"Mmm, so good," I answered quickly. "Your ass is perfect. Really, it's perfect."

My mouth watered at the sight of her black leggings stretched taut over the curve of her firm shapely rump. She kept her feet together, accentuating the slope where the small of her back arched over and her asscheeks strained under the tight fabric, so amazingly round and full, I could barely hold back from reaching up and squeezing that plump, sumptuous bubble.

"I'm glad you approve," she said. "Now hurry up and cum before I lose my patience."

"I'm getting close," I said. "Just bend over a little further."

"Oh, I don't think so," she said. "I'm not taking any more orders from you today. You'll cum when I tell you. Understood?"

"Okay," I whispered, losing my breath. "I'll do anything you want."

"That's better," she said. "Now I want you to stand up. We're trading places."

With no hesitation, I jumped out of my seat, expecting my mother to turn around and slowly sit down. Instead, she held out her index finger, directing me to stand in front of the chair. Then I watched as she set her knees down on the wooden seat, keeping her legs together as she slowly leaned forward, her ass pointed back towards me.

"Is this where you'd like to cum," she asked, flexing her tight glutes, "right here, all over your mother's ass?"

"Oh, fuck yeah," I moaned, stroking intently. "You have no idea."

"Then show me," she said. "Show me how horny you are right now. Let me feel it. Let me feel that hot load all over my ass. Go on, Chris, cum for me."

My knees buckled as the sound of her voice nearly caused me to pass out from overexcitement. I had never imagined that my mother was even capable of acting this way, let alone seeing it first-hand.

Was she really begging me to jerk off in our brand new kitchen? Was she actually ordering me to cum all over her black yoga pants?

I should have accepted it for the privilege that it was. Instead, I got greedy, giving her no chance to react, as I lunged forward and slammed my cock smack up against her butt, a forceful collision softened by the leggings and the meaty flesh underneath, the perfect cushion for my throbbing penis to grind against her smooth, velvety rump.

She let out a terrified shriek, as I grabbed her by the waist, ignoring her vocal protest as I violently started thrusting my hips back and forth, viciously humping her from behind.

"No, Chris don't!" Mom cried. "Chris, stop! Oh my God! Please don't do that!"

Of course, I could hear her. But I wasn't about to stop, not for anything.

"You told me to cum on your ass. You said it Mom. I heard you say it!"

She said nothing in return. Yet, her ass clearly pushed back against my cock. Her voice was raspy and out of breath, with her head forward, hair swinging all over.

"Oh, God," she moaned. "God, your dick is so hard. Oh my God, don't stop. Yes baby, I said it. I want you to cum. I want you to cum sweetie. Please let me feel your cum!"

In 19 years, I'd never felt an orgasm quite like that, let alone seen so much spunk come gushing out of my cock like a broken water main. The force of each spasm was so violent that I stumbled over and collapsed on top of her as my legs gave out. My face was buried in her hair as I felt Mom trembling beneath me. Even then, with our bodies mashed together, the lingering sensation of her soft cheeks pressed up against my cock milked out the remaining semen flowing from my aching balls.

As I looked down and slowly rose to my feet, the black leggings spread over Mom's ass were completely coated under a thick layer of white creamy foam, rolling down the black spandex, then pooling in the crack of her ass, before slowly dripping down to the cleft of her moist pussy.

Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head.

"Umm, maybe you should go change," I said, clearing my throat.

For a second, Mom remained quiet. I watched as she reached back, sliding her fingers through my creamy sperm.

"Yeah, good idea," she said, slowly rising to her feet. "Just try to avoid getting another hard-on in the next ten minutes, okay?"

* * *

For the rest of that afternoon, Mom and I barely spoke. I could only assume she needed as much time to process what had just happened as I did. We spent the rest of the day quietly arranging furniture and unpacking most of our things. Mom spent most of her time in the kitchen, while I worked in the living room hooking up our television and stereo. We ordered pizza for dinner. Then sat on the couch and quietly watched football. Around nine o'clock, I went out to meet some friends from school who were hanging out downtown. By the time I got home, Mom had already gone to bed.

The next morning, I woke up and walked downstairs to an empty house. It was Monday and Mom had apparently already left for work. I'd woken up with barely enough time to grab a quick shower, throw on some clothes and race off to get to my morning class. It wasn't like her to leave without waking me up. I started to worry that my foolish actions had managed to ruin everything on our first day. Before leaving, I'd noticed a note with a list of things Joel needed to fix, written in Mom's handwriting on the fridge.

When I finally made it to class, the fear of Mom telling me to move out made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought of going home, certain of what was destined to come.

My final class ended at noon. Fortunately, before moving out, Jimmy had kindly given me two ounces of Blue Dream. So I figured the best thing to do was go home, smoke a bowl and have a couple beers, just to prepare myself for the foul mood my mother was sure to be in when she got home.

The moment I walked in the house, I instantly remembered my mother's journal, as I headed up to her room and luckily found it in the same box where I'd left it, right at the foot of Mom's bed. I opened it up and thumbed through a few pages, stopping at a passage that instantly caught my eye.

December 10th, 2003

Today I caught this guy following me around the mall. I was kind of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a scene. He was well dressed for a younger guy with a nice business suit like he could have been a lawyer or something. I needed some coffee so I went into Starbucks where I saw him sitting by himself. There weren't many tables as I took my seat, which ended up facing him directly. From the moment I sat down, I could instantly feel him watching, as I looked over and caught him peeking at my legs. I could have got up and found another seat, but he wasn't being terribly obvious about it. So I sat there and kept my legs crossed, waiting to see if he'd move on. After a minute, I realized he wasn't leaving. So I glanced over and looked him straight in the eye thinking he'd take the hint and go away. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. For a moment, I was expecting him to walk over and say something. But the longer he waited, the more I realized how nervous he was to approach me. I was kind of insulted, but then I figured if all he wanted was a show then why not give him one just to fuck with his head. When he looked over again, I picked up my coffee, turned my hips toward him, and slowly uncrossed my legs. I paused for a moment, holding them open to show him the black thong I'd worn under my pantyhose. I did this three or four times, crossing my legs back and forth. Each time, I held my legs open for a second, letting him see up my skirt. Finally, I stood up and quietly went on my way, never thinking he'd actually have the nerve to follow me down to the shoe store.

I'd found a great deal on a black pair of Jimmy Choo's with a peep-toe and a nice glossy finish. I sat down to try them on when I looked up and saw him watching me through the window. The bench was so low that sitting down opened my skirt up even more, exposing not only my black thong, but most of the pantyhose covering my legs as well. Still, I wasn't about to let some pervert keep me from buying shoes. So I sat there on the bench thanking myself for wearing underwear, with my legs open and my skirt up around hips, working my feet into the shoes. When I looked up again, I couldn't believe he was still standing there trying to play innocent with his back turned. At that point, I probably should have confronted him. Instead, I just paid for the shoes and walked out, thinking he'd never follow me outside.

I reached the exit and turned around to see if he was still behind me. Sure enough, he walked out with a smile on his face like he hadn't done anything wrong. By then, I was so irritated that I walked over and asked if I could help with him anything. He smiled back and said no. He just enjoyed seeing a woman with beautiful legs. I asked if he got off peeking up women's skirts. He said only women who looked like me. I said it was too bad he was such a pussy or maybe he could have seen more. He offered to take me out for a drink to see if he could change my opinion. He looked a little angry when I turned him down, making the mistake of asking if I was just a tease. So then I decided to teach him a lesson and asked him to walk me to my car. When I got in, I rolled down the window, quickly undid my blouse, then told him to take out his cock. He looked around for a second. Then he stepped over to the window and nervously pulled his dick out. I spit in my palm, taking his cock in one hand, while using the other to slowly pull up my skirt. I reached down inside my pantyhose, rubbing my clit, while using the other to stroke his cock hard and fast. I jerked him until he started to groan. Then I aimed the tip directly above my legs and instantly started to cum as I watched his load rain down across my thighs, spraying all over my pantyhose.

Satisfied, I pulled down my skirt, started the car and drove off without a single word...

The passage ended there, but the rousing effect lingered in my vivid imagination longer after I set down the journal.

Out of everything I'd read so far, this was without question my first clear evidence that the women who raised me and handed down all of my morals was willing to engage in extreme, high-risk, sexual behavior with seemingly any young man with a cock. But more importantly, there was also something in the look and feeling of pantyhose that clearly brought out her inner slut, as if she found them to be just as big a turn-on as I did, possibly even more.

Instead of feeling completely panicked and terrified over what had happened the day before, suddenly I was bent on exposing my mother's dark side, determined to see how far she was willing to go to satisfy her deepest sexual desires.

One hour later, I was stretched out on the couch, feeling pretty faded from the bowl I'd just finished smoking and the three beers I gulped down pretty quickly. I was just about to nod off, when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I slowly stood up, shaking the cobwebs from my head, as I walked toward the sound of someone knocking on the door.

Recalling my mother's note, I fully expected to see Joel standing there wearing his tool belt. Instead, in my hazy, weed-induced state, I almost choked as I opened the door and saw Cynthia standing there, with her bra-busting melons spilling out of a bright orange satin nightie.

"Good morning," she said, over a deep yawn, like she hadn't slept all night.

"Hey," I said, with a puzzled look, as I glanced down at her fuzzy pink slippers. "Actually, it's afternoon, but that's okay. How are you?"

"Exhausted," she said. "Alex is teething. I would have come sooner, but I woke up about ten minutes ago."

"Oh, no problem. I was actually expecting your husband. But that's cool. Come on in," I said, pulling the door open.

"Joel had a job out in Framingham," she explained. "But I'm pretty handy with a wrench myself. Your mom told me about the radiator."

"Oh," I said, forcing myself to focus on her face. "That's actually kind of hot," I said awkwardly. "Yeah, Mom gave me a list of stuff...smoke alarm, radiator, bathroom sink, and one of the light switches in the attic."

"No worries," she said. "Smoke alarm probably needs a new battery. If the light switch isn't working, I'll have to tell Joel. He handles all the wiring. Otherwise, I can probably help."

With that, I followed her back to the living room, focusing mainly on her ass. Unlike Mom, Cynthia had short blonde hair, in one of those trendy bob-style haircuts, parted on the left, creating a lovely frame for the fullness of her round, chubby face. Knowing how critical some women are, she might have described herself as overweight. In my opinion, the extra baby weight just made her look more voluptuous. Her hips were fairly wide, yet her stomach was still pretty flat, with a pair of incredibly huge knockers, giving her a perfect hourglass figure.