ThRobbie Ch. 07

And with that she pulled her thighs together, with an arm corralled under her knees, up and over my head; swaying her hips back and forth casually. The definition of other 'options' was clear. The soft round skin of her butt-cheeks were shiny and in need of caress. That little hole between them a little more noticeable than usual.

"I'll always be generous with you... And you can start with my mouth..."

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Mom's pretty ass-cheeks were stroking my eyes and I was sure she meant to say she wanted my cock in between them.

But she didn't.

Not yet.

"I guess I have one more favor to ask of you," she said, wetly.

Her hand tugged at my cock, squeezing several times in succession like Morse code. I heard that saying, 'Sit up beside me'. So I did (kinda sorry to leave the vision and perfection of the underside of her thighs and very inviting soft tushy).

As I sat up she continued, "I do feel a bit guilty about sucking you off while you were unconscious. That I had my way with you and not the other way around..." Her hand left my muscle alone, suddenly. But soon I wasn't annoyed by that departure. "So I want to return the favor."

Both her hands were required to pull that undersized tube top off of her chest. Her tits tugged out of there fantastically; outraged and timid all at once. I watched them stick to the fabric impulsively while her arms crossed over each other, until her nipples yanked free and led the charge for release. Her brilliant globes then argued with gravity for a moment, bouncing to and fro, fighting to obey the leadership of her gravity resistant, thick erect nipples. Until the heft of her flesh rest, submissively supportive and resolutely in agreement with her swollen, pointy, tips (in some ways like worker bees holding up a hive).

I was wanting to watch her to do that again. Over and over. All damned day long.

But she had other plans.

I'd expected her to toss aside the now useless fabric. But that wasn't the purpose of taking it off. Instead it immediately went to her eyes. She crossed it and looped it back over, twice -- effectively creating a blindfold. And if there was any doubt about that, she better defined the purpose.

"I want you to fuck me blind."

I had to laugh for a while. She's fucking amazing. Colorful in any equation. (I challenge you to find a more entertaining, generous, and fully equipped female.)

"What?" I laughed some more while she giggled in admission (a little bit frustrated I was killing her mood but unable to ignore the fact that she's so cute and comical).

"Stop laughing," she chuckled out, "you're ruining my romantic mood!"

I laughed some more, "Okay, I'm sorry. But I thought you said your pussy is basically torched for the day. Now you want me to fuck you blind?"

Having temporarily lost the battle for 'romance' she added, "Mouth. I said you can start with my mouth, remember?" As if I were completely stupid she opened her mouth and pointed in there a few times.

"I want you to fuck my face again, you dumbass!"

Her fists went into the bed like a little girl having a fit -- but her lips all curled up at the corners said otherwise (even though she was trying to frown).

I figured I'd discredit her enough so I moved a little closer towards the mood I guess she'd intended. "Ohhhhhhh, you want me to face fuck you, eh? Is that all?"

She wait for a moment, not sure if she should agree with me. But relented, still perturbed about maybe not getting gifts that she wanted.

"Yes..."

And that time she managed a full frown. Adorable.

While she was working that out I fumbled around the bed. And in doing so I did recognize the purpose of the blindfold. Every motion I made had an effect on her head, unsure of where I was going. She held a tilt to it that you see on every truly sight disabled person on the street, looking somewhere beyond.

It was difficult, but I finally managed to stand. She was near the center of the bed at that point and for some reason had her hands out to her sides, stretched behind her, palms pressed to the wall. That appeared to partially be for reasons of stability while I shifted around. But clearly something else as well.

Submission.

By the time I was upright with my feet between her cotton-covered spread thighs... I was fucking turned on extreme. 'Sight unseen' appeared to afford me a position of even greater power. Her ability to defend herself, and more so -- not interfere or interact with me -- would require a tremendous degree of discipline (particularly for someone like her). She'd be forced to simply maintain unfettered trust, in her nakedly compelling desire for me to come forward.

'I'm guilty. Fuck my face while I can't see -- and set me free.'

The frown had soon resolved into that chewable lower lip thing we all love so much. Her hands began to claw at the wall a bit, already having problems staying still. My erection swayed around some, close enough for her to smell the misdirection. Her chest rose and fell in anticipation.

'Where is he going? Will he bring it to me? What will he do with me when he gets here?'

We hadn't said anything for a minute or two before I spoke up.

"Are you hungry this morning, Mother?"

She gasp when I spoke. As if she forgot there was someone there. Before she answered, quietly once more.

"Yes. Very."

Without my instruction my cock responded, constricting at the base of me while tugging upon the ropes within that pull it upward. They understood each other now, she and he. It didn't speak to me anymore, it spoke to her, directly. (Honestly, it said nothing to me as it always had. It didn't need to anymore. Its prey had been obtained.)

"Are you thirsty too?" I added.

"Oh yes. I'm always very thirsty."

Again communication occurred without me. The strength within it tore at itself until it produced a suitable amount of fluid -- splashed down onto her inner thigh. Which isn't all that unusual after I wake up in the morning, and even less so after the excitement I felt in giving her oral just moments before.

She reacted as if my mark had slit her skin like a blade would, "Oh god... please... can I touch that?"

But of course I knew the answer. I knew all the answers without any education. I could hear her ask for them.

"No."

"Mustn't...?"

"No. Mustn't touch."

But her thighs did not agree and began to roam.

"Stay still," I told her.

"Oh fuck, Robbie... I don't know if I can do this."

Screw that. I'm into it! "It was your idea. Have you ever done it before?"

Her breasts began shaking around, though she kept her hands pressed back against the wall as if they were chained there.

"No. I tried one time when I was young. But I couldn't take it. I wasn't willing..." and at the mention of that her thighs stopped moving and pressed themselves down flat to the bed. "I wasn't willing to let someone else have control of me quite like that."

"But you'll do that for me?"

Her back continued to yank off the wall on one end and toss her breasts aside -- again, nothing was locked there, only her compliance. And then that stopped also. She relaxed. The expansion of her lungs accepting responsibility as the only movable part of her body.

"I will," she said.

I took a moment just to look at her like that. Comprehend what that meant. The difficulty involved. It might be the same as me refusing my own erection at the sight of her naked torso. Clearly I had no such discipline.

Then again... the image of my dominant erection shadowed over top of her willing and supplicant chest... My erect cock maintains the purpose of anticipation. Don't put that away.

"I'm going to reward you for that," I told her.

"Oh yes..." her hands clenched again behind her. "Please do."

But I didn't like this set-up. Standing on the bed. I didn't like the soft, unstable feeling under my feet, I suppose. I wanted the only thing soft in the room to be her. That made much more sense.

Make her even softer.

So I walked me and my big strong dick off the bedside. Immediately her features responded in confusion. Initially thinking I might be coming forward. But then clearly wasn't. The release of such weight off the bed had to mean I had gone away completely!

"Robbie...?

I said nothing. I listened for her to tell me what to do with what she wasn't saying. And it told me to walk to the other side of the bed. To do so loud enough that she could hear me, but not any louder than that. Footsteps of anticipation...

"Honey, are you...?

Am I what? Folding open the blinds? Do you feel any sunlight? Am I going to retrieve something? Someone? Is anybody looking at you other than me? Am I going to come back?

"Should I...? Is there something I should...? Did you want me to...?"

Do, do, do, was all she could think of. What does SHE need to do? Has to do something. Not used to that NOT being necessary. The idea that someone will take care of that for her is foreign. It never works out that way. Very uncomfortable for her.

'I want him to have his way with me. What do I need to do to get him to do that?'

And then I walked back to the other side. Having done nothing where I ended up before. This time I stopped at the base of the bed. Much too far away.

My cock didn't like that.

"Come over here," I finally allowed. "It's better for you over here."

When I said it her head had been turned to my initial location off the bed, expecting me to return there -- she wanted to be ready there if I had. But her anticipation was false. I wouldn't be that predictable.

It left her uncertain. "I can let go? Of the wall?"

"Of course," I agreed. As if it were exactly what it was -- just a fucking wall that had no hold on her. She let go, almost surprised her palms came off of there, and walked her hands before herself towards my voice. As she began it, I added, "Dummy. I never asked you to chain yourself up to a wall in the first place."

She smiled beneath her pink and yellow striped, handmade blindfold, and offered. "Don't make fun of me, you bastard."

Which I had expected her to say. "Oh you'll find out what a bastard I am... when you get here."

She shook her head at herself on the way over. Why would I do this to myself?

Initially I was perched with my stiff cock held over the edge of the bed, protruding towards her. But once she got within sniffing range (which she did in fact recognize), I stepped back a few inches silently. She slowed her progress when she got that close. Thought that she would be enticing to me about it instead, smiling in that devilish smile that she's perfected, expecting her cheek to brush against my flesh at some point.

Wrong. It's not there.

For a moment her hand went up...

"Ah, ah, ah... no hands."

She was a little defiant. "But you said the wall..."

So was I. "I said the wall doesn't matter and it don't. But you're not allowed to use your hands. Try being me for awhile, eh."

That was a very effective comment. Her submission now had an even greater motivation. Her body then noticeably inhabit a more docile form. "I see. That makes sense."

"Come closer."

I said it as if she were at fault for misdiagnosing my distance. But when she did move forward, I did the same in reverse again. Silently.

Her hands were now precariously close to the edge of the bed and she could clearly tell that, so she gingerly reached out in front of herself but not any higher above that level.

"Noooo, I said..."

She interrupted me. "You want me to fall off the bed, I can't see!"

Hmm, she did have a point there. That would be bad. What was good about that though was it verified she really can't see a goddamn thing, which I wasn't totally sure of given the light color of the fabric over her eyes. Maybe it helped that we hadn't turned any lights on and only had the morning sun pushing beneath my blinds and reflecting around the room. (And btw, that gave her perspiring skin a golden glaze that any of us could truly appreciate.)

"Be miraculous and use your legs, sit on the edge of the bed."

She let out a sigh, 'Fine, make me feel stupid'. But trust me, it was all part of removing her defenses and limiting her preference for 'active' participation. If I let her think she's intelligent enough to actively assume or outsmart any of this -- ruins the entire purpose of removing her responsibility for anything. Which WAS the purpose of this event. I knew that.

Once she had herself sat at the edge of the bed -- I had to admire her again. She did sit there as if she was helpless. Maybe even a little bored suddenly (which was also a defense, a false one). I liked that better than her remaining conscious in proJECTING how compelling she is. I wanted to reverse that. Let her abSORB it instead. Like I'd been doing the last few days.

So I stood there and tried to fondle myself for a while. I was particularly firm (from ego) and probably 20 minutes past the point where I'd like to blow a load cuz my body woke up. For years that's how I'd do it, wake up and masturbate. Until a few days ago -- when I became handicapped and she took care of those needs for me. And now I had her sitting there, nude, patiently waiting for my any desire. My mother (a fantasy for any man) had become the entire alphabet of participation in my life. From A to Z. I honestly just wanted to jack off right in front of her like that. Let it all sink in without being bombarded about constant upgrades to sexual fulfillment. I just wanted to look at her. And react.

"What are you doing?" She could faintly hear me try to do something with my hands, I'm sure.

"I'm trying to jack off while you're sitting there."

"What? Why? I can..."

"Because you're just so fucking beautiful."

Somehow I said that right and it amazed her for a moment. But she tried to throw it away.

"I'm just sitting here, I wasn't even trying to be sexy."

Which is precisely what I wanted her to recognize.

"I know. It doesn't matter. You are." My erection wanted to squirt at her. Make her certain. I dribbled a bit instead. "You couldn't stop that if you tried."

I'll be honest, I think that really worked for her. And if she hadn't had cotton strapped across her eyes I might have seen reflective proof in them. Instead, her body began to glow.

"Thank you, Robb..."

"Show me your pussy," I interrupted her.

She hadn't expected that. And when I said it her limbs we're all clamed up in cotton from her toes on up to mid thigh. I couldn't see anything other than that little free patch of hair above her pussy.

"I want to see it," I repeated. A little impatient.

"Okay..."

She started to open them up in an intentionally sexy manner, very practiced in the reveal. But I didn't want that.

"Stop. Don't be sexy about it. Do it like you're not even aware I'm here."

"Okay..."

As far as I could tell she did like I asked, but it was still sexy beyond belief. The treasure between her legs could never be seen as otherwise.

"Yeah..." I muttered, like a hungry dog.

"Really?" My reaction surprised her. With such little effort I'd see it that way?

"Yeah... that's such a pretty pussy."

I could see her attempting to understand why I'd want to diminish her efforts to display herself as sexy -- and at the same time offer accolades. (Albeit crude ones.)

"Do you want me to touch you?" she asked.

"No..." I said with certainty. "Touch yourself."

"Honey, I'm really sore. Besides, this is about..."

"You." I interrupted her. "This is about you. And I want you to touch it anyway. I don't care if it's sore."

"Baby, it's..."

"Touch!" I demanded. Like a caveman.

"Okay..."

"Be careful if you need to," I more considerately allowed.

"Thank you," she offered.

She was very, very careful about it. Hardly if at all daring to move her outer lips in any manner. Which was perfectly fine. I didn't care about it any more. I got compliance of a type she hadn't predicted. So while she thought about that...

"Your breasts are the most magnificent I've ever seen. In photos, videos, anywhere. Remember that day when we were in the bathtub, and I got your chest wet on purpose?"

"Yes," she recalled.

"I worked pretty hard to get that nipple out of there. And when it burst free..." A small spurt from within my shaft tossed out as I thought about that, and made a noticeable splat on the wooden floor. She may have heard it but I continued talking right through it, "I'd never seen anything more compelling in all my life. The idea that I used to feed from a nipple as explosively sexual as that... made me crazy with lust to have that again."

I detected a tiny moan within her but she held it back. Perhaps thinking that might be a conscious effort at sexy and she'd already clued in that I didn't want her working at that. So she quickly recovered and spoke over herself as well. "It wasn't just me then? Lusting for you that morning?"

"Are you kidding? I led that parade." I flatly claimed.

"Oh... well I guess you're right. I guess you did."

Interestingly, by the time she finished saying that she was in agreement with me. But when I started about it, she clearly thought it was all of her doing. (And if you remember that chapter, it wasn't. I was very intentional that morning and while she certainly responded and took hold of things, I created that accordance.)

I noticed her shoulders go softer after responding. Her mouth didn't close up tight when the words stopped either.

"You're still very wet," I told her. Noticing the bedding below her was stained.

"Yes... I am." Her unused hand bunched up in the sheets at her side. "Is that okay?"

"Yes, it is." I informed her. "I want you to carefully dip a finger in your slit and coat it some. So you can use that to make your nipple shiny like it was that day when I knew I'd need to suck it some more, for sexual fulfillment and not just nourishment."

Her body chirped and she was unable not to moan a bit before refusing it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to moan just now. I'll do what you asked."

I continued to dictate terms while she carefully slipped a finger between the lips of her hips.

"Did you moan just now for me, or yourself?"

"I don't know... neither one, I think. It just happened."

And that's what I needed to hear from her.

"It's perfectly fine then. Allow it to happen."

"Okay..." she was a little confused about what I was saying, while she thought about moving that finger to her nipple.

"Mom... allllllllllow it to happen. You don't need to force it."

"Oh." Her finger remained frozen within her.

"Or maybe better said, not resist it," I verified.

"Ohhhhhh... I think I know what you mean now," she said.

Interestingly, her finger did not leave her pussy and go to her nipple like I asked. It suddenly felt more comfortable where it was already. There wasn't any resistance.

"Remember when you showed me your pussy under your tennis outfit at the breakfast table?"

"Yes," she giggled, embarrassed.

"That's when I knew I needed to fuck you," I told her. Once again, flatly.

It was a little bit sudden and inappropriate, how I threw the fuck word at her. She bit at her lip. Unsure of what to say.

"I had to have that pussy. The prettiest pink I could think of. It looked to be the most caressive and comforting haven I could ever encounter. And you had it right there within you. That pussy where I come from. You could provide me a warmth unlike any other. I needed to go back there. I had to go back inside."

She moaned again. And chewed at her lip some more.

"Remember how I fucked the couch cushions?"

"Yes..." There was breath in her voice now. She still had not removed that finger from herself.

"And how you told me not to turn around?"