The Good Mom Ch. 03

Chapter Three -- His Father's Footsteps

Richard drove home and reversed the trailer down the driveway and got to work filling it with the pile of crap from the attic. All the while he was thinking about Susan Connaught with her ample ass on that desk with her skirts up and her legs wrapped around him in those gorgeous stockings while he fucked her hard.

Then he imagined Melissa Mitchum in those silky white leggings with the open crotch perched on his mother's card table while he jackhammered his cock in and out of her. Finally he recalled Silvia Swanson bent over the bathroom vanity with her skirt hoiked up her scrawny buttocks encased in white satin panties with yellow polka dots with sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose worn over them. His cock sliding in out of the little hole she had made in her pantyhose so he could fuck her.

He'd now fucked three of his mother's closest friends. There was only Elspeth Longmire for him yet screw. He was very much aware that he was following in his father's footsteps.

When he'd loaded the trailer he drove down to the town dump and unloaded it. He drove back home, unhitched the trailer and lowered the jockey wheel so he could push it out of the way of the driveway. Inside the house Katerina, his mother's housekeeper, had left him a sandwich, a pickle and packet of his favourite chips. He devoured the meal and went back to work lugging more junk down from the attic, loading it into the box trailer. When the trailer was full he called it quits and took a six-pack out to the patio and hit the pool.

After swimming a few laps he floated on an inflatable lilo and drank beer and thought about all the great sex he had been having ever since he'd come back to stay with his mother at Bellenau. He pondered briefly the situation with his wife Victoria but decided not to call her again until he received the divorce papers. He'd let her make the first move.

In the early evening he received a text from his mother advising him that she wouldn't be home until late because there was some kind of dispute with Ford over the latest consignment of vehicles to one of the dealerships. He microwaved a Lean Cuisine, finished the beers and had an early night.

Around midnight he woke up still feeling a little hungry after his busy day. He went downstairs to get a snack, barefoot and dressed in the shorts and t-shirt he wore to bed. He saw the glow of the television coming from the lounge room and padded silently into the room.

His mother lay face down on the lounge fast asleep, a half-eaten sandwich and an empty wine glass on the coffee table in front of her. She had come home from work exhausted, made herself a light dinner and fallen asleep in front of the TV. The TV was muted and the remote control was on the floor beside her.

She was still wearing the bone coloured skirt suit she had worn to work that morning although her jacket was folded over the back of the couch and her high heels were sitting neatly side by side under coffee table.

Richard sneaked up on her. Emily was in a deep sleep, her face furrowed and hair tousled but she was still a pretty lady. Richard leaned down and softly kissed her cheek and she didn't stir. Her skirt had ridden up exposing her long legs clad in smoky-grey, lustrous pantyhose. The darker nylon of her control-tops was clearly visible in the light cast by the TV as were her pristine white panties.

The full-cut panties were bunched in the cleft of her buttocks and stretched tight across her magnificent ass. He could smell her perfume and a hint of cigarette smoke. His mother only smoked when she was stressed or drinking heavily. Richard couldn't resist the temptation and he carefully lowered his face to her bottom and sniffed the crotch of her panties. He could smell her perfume mixed with a feminine hygiene product and a scintilla of tangy vaginal secretions.

His cock was hard. Being so close to his mother in such a vulnerable state with her clothes in disarray was exciting. He tapped her lightly on the shoulder but she didn't budge. She remained in a coma-like sleep oblivious to his presence. He carefully knelt down on the floor and began to explore his mother's body. Her red nailpolished toenails were shrouded by the dark reinforced toes of her nylons and he sniffed her feet. He inhaled the vinegary scent of her foot odour mixed with the redolence of shoe deodoriser. The bouquet was heady and made his cock quiver.

Richard traced a fingertip along the back of her nylon-sheathed calf, pausing to caress the little wrinkles in her stockings behind her knees and then moved slowly up her thighs until he came to the dark bands of her control tops. The lustrous fabric covering his mother's flesh felt delightfully sleek. The audaciousness and downright depravity of what he was doing elevated his desires.

Dare he touch her panties?

He did.

Richard ever so carefully placed a hand on his mother's buttock. The satin panty material slid sensuously over her pantyhose. He took his cock in his hand as he let the fingers of his free hand stroke and caress his mother's bottom. He slipped a finger into the crease of her buttocks and felt the warmth of her pubis nestled inside the gauzy crevice. He removed his finger and sniffed it, inhaling his mother's essence, stroking his quivering organ, trying to control his breathing.

He'd spied on his mother many times but he had never actually touched her intimately and the experience was heady and mind-blowing. He wanted to put his cock on her ass, to poke it into that tight silky crevice and hump her panty-swaddled crack. He continued to play with his mother's legs and ass, getting a little bolder as she seemed oblivious to what he was doing to her. She remained in a deep sleep, breathing regularly and unmoving.

Richard was close to extremis and had been holding back his orgasm. He desperately wanted to mount his mother, to hold her close and feel her body against his, to smell her sweet scent while be fucked her pantyhosed thighs and panty-clad bottom but he knew doing so would be suicidal so he made do with fondling her while she slept.

He couldn't hold back any longer and he so desperately wanted to put his cock on his mother that he surrendered common sense and caution and stood up and pressed his cock against his mother's stocking-sheathed calf. The feeling was mind-blowingly unbelievable. She silky feel of her nylons and the resilience of her flesh against his cock triggered his orgasm.

Richard's intent was to move his cock off his mother's leg as soon as he felt extremis but he was either unwilling or unable to do so and he shot his steamy load all over her legs. Gobbets of semen spattered on her limbs as Richard suppressed a moan as his intense orgasm bloomed and wracked his body. He realised that it was too late and the damage was done so he kept rubbing his cock on his mother's nylon-sheathed calf until he was spent.

He was instantly mortified. What had he done!

The backs of mother's legs were spattered with globules of creamy white semen. It was already starting to soak into her nylons. The gauzy grey nylon darkened as his seminal fluids were absorbed by the diaphanous textile.

Richard stuffed his till dripping cock back in his shorts and snatched up the paper napkin folded neatly beside the plate that held his mother's half-eaten sandwich. He dabbed at the glutinous mess on the back his mother's calves and thighs, doing so as gently as he could so as not to awaken her. When he had cleaned up as best he could he stood back and looked at his handiwork.

The white gobbets of spermatozoa were gone but his mother's nylons were damp where they had absorbed the watery prostatic secretions. There was nothing he could do about that. He hoped that the damp patches would dry before his mother awoke and that they wouldn't stain.

He tiptoed out of the room taking the semen-soaked napkin with him. Richard disposed of the napkin in the kitchen waste receptacle. He snatched up a bag of potato chips and slunk back to his room and ate the chips whilst preying that his mother would know nothing of what he had done to her when she woke up.

*****

Emily woke up cramped from sleeping face down on the sofa. Her mouth tasted sour from the cigarettes she had smoked yesterday during her verbal battles with her supplier regarding a shipment of new cars that had arrived with hail damage. She eased herself into a sitting position and rubbed her neck and then her feet. She arose and cleared away the remnants of last night's dinner and made her way upstairs carrying her jacket and her heels.

Richard heard the staircase creak and he slinked into his wardrobe and removed the knot in the wall just in time to see his mother enter her bedroom. She placed her heels in the shoe rack in her walk-in robe and began to undress.

Normally Richard would have the crusty panties and pantyhose handy ready to stroke himself while he watched her but today he was filled with dread.

Emily unbuttoned the satin blouse and unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. She threw the skirt on top of the jacket which was lying on the bed. They were wrinkled and Emily would have Katerina take them to the drycleaners. She tossed her blouse on the bed, she would hand wash the garment herself.

Katerina worked half-days on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. She cleaned house, shopped for groceries, ran household errands and did whatever chores were necessary so that Emily could live her busy lifestyle unencumbered by the mundane but Emily insisted on doing her own washing. She did not like the idea of other people handling her clothes and intimates. It was a deep seated preposition that Emily had developed when Buddy was alive.

In those days she had quite a collection of fetish wear and sexy lingerie that Buddy made her wear for their Friday sex sessions and she didn't want her housekeeper gossiping about it to her colleagues at the domestic service agency. Also doing the weekly washing connected Emily with her roots as she had not come from money and was used to doing her own washing.

She shucked out of her brassiere and pulled down her panties and kicked them off, pausing to pat her little pot belly that no amount of exercise seemed to shift. Emily knew that she was a good looking woman for her age with a great ass, legs and breasts and a curvy physique that many men desired.

Richard watched through the peephole. Watching his mother strip and wonder around her bedroom dressed only in her pantyhose would normally drive him wild with lust but this morning he was filled with anxiety.

Emily sat on the bed and carefully removed her pantyhose, making sure she didn't snag them. She usually wasn't a fan of control-top pantyhose but she really liked the look and feel of these smoky-grey shimmery pantyhose. She shopped for them online at MeMoi, a clothing and hosiery company based out of Linden New Jersey and they were expensive.

For a second Richard thought he had gotten away with humping his mother's legs last night but then his nightmare came true as his mother began to inspect the pantyhose she had just removed.

Emily was about to toss her pantyhose onto the little pile of clothing consisting of her blouse, brassiere and panties. The delicates would go into a lingerie wash bag and into the machine. She paused and decided to inspect the pantyhose for any snags or runners because she had slept in them. The first thing she noticed was a couple of damp patches on the legs and she held them up to the light and saw that they weren't wine stains which was her first suspicion.

She brought the pantyhose to her nose and sniffed them and was assailed by the musky smell of stale semen.

"Yuk!" Emily squealed and tossed the pantyhose away.

It took her only seconds to realise what had happened and who the culprit was.

"That little fucker! That's the last straw! He and I are going to have it out. This bullshit has got to stop," she growled to the empty room.

Richard froze. This was bad. His mother was going to confront him and Richard had no excuse for what he had done. He watched his mother walk naked into her bathroom still fuming and even though he admired the view he was terrified of the repercussions coming his way.

He jammed the knot back into the hole and grabbed his work clothes and ran downstairs, hitched the trailer to his car and drove away. He wouldn't return until after his mother had left for work and he would have all day to try to think up some sort of excuse for his actions.

In the shower Emily let the warm water ease her aching muscles and soaped her body with bodywash. She was fuming but the hot water and expensive emollient eased her stiff and sore body. Unsolicited, her mind conjured up images of her lying on the couch with her skirt hiked up, lying face down fast asleep while Richard stood over her, gazing at her legs and ass while stroking his hard cock.

She knew that what she was thinking was indecent and bordering on incestuous but hadn't she enjoyed the debauchery inflicted on her by her husband when they were first married before he became a fat, lecherous drunk who enjoyed controlling her and debasing her. Not only that but he had filmed her and had shown the videos to his friends.

But she couldn't shake the mental image of Richard, dressed only his Speedos, standing over her with his tanned muscled body inches from hers, his long beautiful penis in his hand and that handsome face screwed up: his cheeks contorted, his eyes squinting and his jaw slack as he ejaculated rope after rope of hot glutinous jism over her legs and ass.

Her fingers rubbed bodywash into her cleft. She spread her labia and circled her clitoris with the pad of one finger while she slipped another inside her. She rubbed out an orgasm that was quick, nasty and dirty, all the time imagining her son masturbating while he watched her sleep. Then Richard climbed on her and she felt his cock pushing into her cleft, pressing her panties into her quim and just as she orgasmed she imagined that Richard's cock broke free of her panty crotch and slipped into her cooze. These were the exact disgusting words that sprang to mind, there was nothing nice or wholesome in her thoughts as she fell against the glass, shuddering and mumbling obscenities.

Emily washed away her sins with more bodywash, her mind now unsullied by lecherous thoughts. She was once again angry and was determined to confront Richard. They would argue and she would kick him out. Let him go back to his leech of a wife or move into a hotel. Having Richard in the house was not prudent or healthy for either of them.

*****

Richard drove to the dump and unloaded the trash and then went to a coffee shop and sipped coffee until after nine when he knew his mother would have left for work. Sure enough at 9:30 he received a text from her informing him that she would be home at 5:00PM and that he should be there so they could have a serious discussion.

How could he have been so stupid! He was on good thing. Watching his mother through the peephole to fire up his fantasies and having fucked three of her friends with the distinct possibility of fucking them again. It was his dream come true, fucking mature sophisticated women and he had ruined it because he couldn't contain the lust he held for his mother.

Richard drove home, showered and changed into shorts and a t-shirt. He went up into the attic with no intention of working. He fully expected his mother to toss him out of her house and she might even fire him so he might as well enjoy the last few hours.

He decided that day-drinking was a good idea and took a six-pack of beer and some snacks with him and by 11:00 he was reclining on the old sofa drinking his first beer, thumbing through one his graphic novels trying not to think of the confrontation that lay ahead.

After a while he was bored and the pussycat VHS tapes caught his eye. He went to his room and collected his little flatscreen TV and plugged the VCR into it. He selected one of the pussycat VHS tapes at random and loaded it into the VCR and lay down on the couch. He clicked the remote and nothing happened. A trip to the kitchen produced fresh batteries and he tried it again.

Richard was shocked.

The opening scene was of his mother, well a much younger version of her, sitting in the centre of the her bed with her legs spread wide, her shaven cleft clearly visible through the gauzy material of her transparent panties. She was dressed all in white like a bride on the first night of her honeymoon but this bride was brazen. She was wearing a white satin bustier, white stockings, white high heels and the aforementioned white transparent panties. She was wearing heavy makeup and ringlets of her tousled flaming-red hair framed her pretty face. She looked apprehensive but also a little lustful.

Richard reached for his thickening cock and began to stroke it. This was dynamite.

After a minute or two his mother's face turned towards the door. There was no sound but he assumed that someone had entered the bedroom and sure enough Richard's now deceased father entered the frame. Words were spoken between his mother and father while Buddy hurriedly undressed.

Buddy was a big man who towered over his diminutive wife. The only photos that Emily had kept of her husband were from when Buddy was younger and fitter. The man on the screen was obese but his huge cock stuck out from under his belly.

For the next hour Richard watched his young mother sexually debased, defiled and abused in every possible way. Some of it she seemed to hate and some of it she seemed to love. His father was domineering and controlling and it was soon apparent that he was positioning Emily on the bed so that the camera got the best shot. Richard suspected that his mother didn't know that she being filmed because unlike Buddy she had no camera awareness.

At the end of the film his mother was a cum-soaked wreck with knotted hair, running makeup, a red-raw ass and runnered nylons. She looked exhausted and so she should be. Her husband had fucked her in every position possible but beforehand had made her use a dildo on herself and spanked her with a paddle and made her choke on his cock. It was both disturbing and erotic.

Richard has stopped masturbating. The video was a treasure and he wanted to save his load for later. He knew now why Silvia Swanson, Melissa Mitchum and Susan Connaught had said that he reminded them of Buddy. He was a younger, fitter version of his handsome father and had the same big cock.

He spent the afternoon watching a few more of the tapes enthralled and sometimes sickened by what he saw. He would wank himself to extremis and then back off, waiting for something better to appear on the screen. By the time he had watched three of the tapes he was convinced that his mother had no idea that she was being filmed.

Now... what should he do with this damning evidence?

At almost exactly five o'clock he heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway and the sound of the garage door opening and closing, then the clatter of his mother's high heels on the floor.

"Richard! Where are you?" she called out.

"I'm up here!" Richard yelled through the attic door.

"Well get your ass down here!" his mother called.

She seldom swore at him and he could hear the anger in her voice. His mother was ready to confront him about the debased act he had committed on her last night but things were not going to go the way she planned.

"I don't think so mom. I've found something you need to see," he called down to her.

He heard the click-clack of her heels on the risers as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. She stopped just below the steep staircase that led to the attic.

"Get down here Richard, right this minute!" she could barely contain her anger.