Who's Your Daddy?

I never dreamed in all of my debauched fantasies, even in the new incestuous ones, that my mother would allow- almost plead with me- to leeringly inspect her fabulous body and tell her how much of it I could actually see. She could easily read my expression, since I was practically drooling into my shoes and I could have served drinks on my rock-solid erection. My mother was such a hot, desirable, (read: fuckable) MILF.

"Hot Damn!" Was all that I was able to choke-out. It was life-changing. The woman standing there, eager apparently for my approval, was acting like a first date between virgin teenagers, not at all like my mother. Her naturally wavy, dark locks now looked slightly ruffled and wind blown since her nervous fingers had raked a lot of the curl away. The charcoal mane lay in heavy sheets along her shoulders and down her now completely bare back. Her smoldering cocoa eyes were almond-shaped, wide and wet with anticipation of my affirming reply. The glossy lips couldn't hide the bright smile. And rosy color on her high cheekbones tempered the olive skin-tone and warm tan. I was imagining her laying in bed with sheets barely covering her naked frame and patting a spot next to her, for me to join in.

I couldn't resist the smile but my gaze was drawn a bit lower. With her consent, but still feeling jittery, I studied mom's prodigious bosom. She was still comfortably squeezed together by the elastic at the sides of the dress. The twin globes, with just a sparkle of her skin cream mixed with anxious perspiration, brought a warm rich texture to the glistening, plump orbs. Missing the confining nature of the bra, they didn't sit as high or look as firm, but they jiggled readily with each shifting of her feet or intake of halting breath. And they were obviously heavy and natural. My fingers were itching to reach for them.

The pink nipples were perky and pointing straight at me as if inviting my leering eyes. The black gossamer silk caressed each curve and made the outline of her healthy figure appear as if it were encased in a sheer, tinted body stocking. When she turned a bit, giving me permission to enjoy her from all angles, the lamp light cast a soft glow on her bronzed boobs and lengthened the dark shadow of her canyon-like cleavage.

Her cantilevered front porch threw her waistline into darkness but as her hips sloped outward the dress almost disappeared. A tiny, black bikini brief was stretched taut across her ample pubic area, revealing only a translucent triangle of satin to conceal her trimmed pussy and the back fought a losing battle to cover both plump cheeks of her delicious-looking rear end.

When she saw my hungry expression, like a lion sizing-up a gazelle, her hands moved unsteadily to cover both her pubic mound and her abundant knockers. I was jolted out of my erotic visions as her hands moved like a magician's. For a brief instant though, I continued to see her on the bed, that long mane of raven hair just barely draped over the pouty tips of her erect nibs. One hand was carefully cupping a firm, squishy breast as she seemed to contemplate it for the first time, and squeeze it, to make an offering to me. Her fingers rolled the rubbery nub between them, and she tugged the fleshy tip, extending it to me as a present.

Her other hand lowered the sheet, revealing that her legs were spread and the coarse triangle of kinky, black curls was glistening with the pre-juices of her arousal. Her hand slipped between her dank thighs and was plying the soft, pink folds of her labia while her long fingers combed through the coarse hairs and tickled the slowly engorging finger of reddened skin, that was emerging from beneath its protective hood. The moistened pubic hairs were matted and oozing her scent. They formed a tight, wiry patch that framed her hidden cavity and darkened the entrance to her warm, moist cavern. Each lean fingertip was shiny and sticky as the digits took turns exploring the purplish folds while poking and prodding at the shadowy crevice sheltered by her firm thighs.

I could hear the slippery suction action as each finger was slowly drawn back only to push forward again, as the elastic lips of her molten pink pussy enveloped the intruding explorer and gripped it tightly. My mom watched me, her sultry countenance hardly changing as she brazenly masturbated and sensuously invited my voyeuristic stare. My own clothes had mysteriously disintegrated and my raging hard-on was thick as coiled wire and swaying like a cobra.

For the very brief instant that these incestuous thoughts always funneled through my mind; causing me to sweat, forming a lump in my throat, raising my heartbeat to red-line levels, enlarging the organs and starting the fluids to flow, my mind's eye was attempting to interpret her twitching and heavy sighs. All of the signs were there for us. The rocking back and forth. Nervous tics. Squeezing those tingling body parts and then hoping to make it appear that you were just brushing lint from your clothes. Definite, mutual, incestuous desire... I think. I know that the feeling was true on my end, but how to confirm her intentions before I insult my mother and ruin our relationship?

Could it be anything else? The quickly flashing eyes and wide, shocked pupils. Those darting, desperate looks unlock a window into the psyche that is all too revealing, but often very confusing. Our eyes first scanned our own bodies. We could feel the warm blood or cold sweat raging through our systems. Then we knew to look at the obvious zones that would, despite our best intentions, display the deviant mother/son fantasies that conservative society finds so appalling. Without even looking, Angie realized that her firm chest was swelling and heaving with each ragged breath, and that her perky nipples were erect and poking at the sheer fabric of her thin dress. The pheromones secreted their musky scent and heated the sticky moisture that was wicking into her damp panties.

I was sweating through my dress shirt, my limp torso felt hot and almost desperate to peel-off these clingy, clammy clothes. I hardly needed to look down to understand that there was a bulging tent forming in my loins. And the uncomfortably crowded, mushroomed head was pushing against the zipper, as if the steel teeth of a trap were biting and gnawing at the sensitive, swelling head of my rapidly enlarging tool. If I were standing any closer, the domed head of my straining organ would be bumping against her thigh.

Our eyes couldn't help but to take in the sudden, shocking appearance of each other. A mother and son should not be slobbering at the barely disguised sensual pleasures featured on the other's heaving torso. Fingers twitched anxiously to be allowed to roam freely. Hips shifted and balance became an item as knees grew weak and groins were moistened with the red-hot fluids beginning to lubricate the pubic areas of us both. The room was getting warmer, the air still, and the walls seemed to be closing in.

Our eyes met for an awkward moment as the sudden shiver of sexual expectation shook our frames. It seemed obvious, (to me atleast,) that at any second, one of us would break and make the first move, the other would allow it. I'm not sure if I was feeling faint because the room appeared to be spinning. Angie was trembling, she looked as if a single word would command her. Was this all some sort of incestuous fever dream? Were we on the same page, or was I mere inches from a catastrophic, family-splitting mistake? I needed to know what she was thinking about, but without her directly saying something, that seemed unlikely.

My judgement may have been clouded by the image of my mother, naked and kneeling at my feet with my cock thrusting between her big tits as she pushed them together. As the shiny, bulbous head of my pistoning tool would appear from the wet cavern of her soft vise, her tongue would dart-out and just tickle the domed top before it retreated to paint another layer of lubrication on the insides of those squished globes. I could practically feel the warm saliva coating my rod as it drove back and forth in the slickened valley of mom's cleavage. I held her sweating shoulders and moved closer, so that I could thoroughly fuck her tits, while getting my cock licked on the upstroke. She would sometimes catch my darting cock in her lips and not let it go. Working the suctioning action of her big cheeks like a bellows and sucking it further into her mouth and towards her throat. Her voracious mouth was struggling to take-in more of my firm column and she used her hand to grip it and to feed more of it down into her lewd gullet. My pelvis was pressed into her chin and my balls banged against her and still she acted as if to drain me of my seed. I was forced to pull my cock out of that steamy vortex before she swallowed me whole. My cock would emerge from her wanton lips, covered in her slobber and slightly stained pink from the remains of her smeared lipstick. It was the blowjob that I always dreamed of.

I needed to either fulfill this erotic fantasy or somehow erase it from my mind, because the thought of pushing my mom to her knees and ravishing her until I filled her slutty mouth with my cum, was going to drive me insane. Could her seductive expressions and her exotic maneuvers in practically undressing infront of me, mean anything else? If she was rehearsing some sort of enticement for an unknown stranger, I would be forced to give her efforts my full endorsement. If this quasi-striptease was only some torturous exercise to teach me some lesson about older women, it was working magnificently. And if this were merely another cruel fantasy leading me to "Blue-Balls," I might just kill myself. But if this approach was indeed aimed at me, I was damn near ready to erupt. She was staring straight at me. She stood half-naked infront of me. She was watching my cock enlarge and playing with herself as she did. The urge was definitely upon us and the indecency of incest was now, nothing more than a naughty word that would enhance the level of the debauchery that we were about to commit.

My eyes focused again, but the situation didn't get much clearer. I was lost between the dreams and this unusual situation. We seemed to take another step closer. Her full, slightly heavy tits, unburdened now by underwear, were brushing against my stomach. The pointy nipples could have left a sexy depression on my skin. My raging erection was pointing towards her like a heat-seeking missile and was separated from her inviting pussy by only the flimsy fabric of her dress and the tempered steel of my zipper. It seemed that her lips were moving in a silent, self-centered conversation. And that though her eyes were watching me, her mind was somewhere else, conjuring an image of someone or of some figure, that I couldn't quite imagine. But it was extremely apparent that she had some sort of depraved, crude sexual fantasy tripping through her thoughts, and she was just as eager as I was, to release the devil.

Each of us was vying to see if we could hold-on to the last vestige of Oedipal lust. Or if we would be the first to cross that dangerous line and drop to our knees, use our teeth to rip apart the unsubstantial cloth to uncover the other's most private region and press our ravenous lips and probing tongue onto the targeted territory of passion that was so close, yet so far away.

Fingers twitched anxiously. Beads of sweat moistened our brows. Oxygen seemed hard to come by. The moment for action was drawing near like in some bizarre Western, where the two antagonists would meet in the middle of Main Street at High Noon and at the appointed hour, they would strip down, lunge at each other and wildly fuck in the dust. And the bells chimed!

It was the mantel clock alerting us with it's seven tones, and my erotic reverie was broken with no one crossing that delicate No Trespassing Zone. We were both shaken back to the present reality but the clear signs of primal, passionate pleasure was etched into our minds. And though we each attempted to disguise our ancient ingrained desires, you can't un-ring the bell.

We both smoothed our clothes and took a few steps back. There were a couple of stuttering, hoarse "ahems" and "whews." Angie's breathy, tittering sighs could not erase the sultry remnants of her lusty daydreams. She turned red-faced, to regard her flushed, nearly naked appearance in the mirror and I studied her as her brown eyes darted from her highly aroused form to my leering eyes, speckled with guilt.

I had no other choice but to turn my back, not merely to avoid her withering and inquisitive glances but also for the immediate necessity of having to fish inside my tight pants and wrestle the stiffened flesh-snake, and corral it into a more comfortable and neutral position. There could be no doubt- even from the back- exactly what I was attempting and when I dared to catch her reflection, there was an oddly satisfied, yet disillusioned smile playing across her pouty, pink lips. Almost as if she were seeing me there for the first time.

A minute later we were presentable and the air in the room seemed normal. The sense was that those images lasted for hours, but it was just a fleeting second, however the memory would last forever. The clock reminded us that we had reservations for 7:30 and a decision needed to be made.

Mom was back to fiddling with her dress. And her appearance was casual elegance. Obviously, she looked sultry and seductive to me. She loved the way her dress looked from behind, emphasizing the slender "V" of her back and drawing attention down to the voluptuous- if not quite petite- jiggly ass. The front still caused anxiety, as now her tits were like headlights in a light mist. The black trace material followed the round outlines of her tits without hiding them. Their fullness and bounce were unavoidable without a bra, and that was now out of the question. I couldn't believe my eyes, or my good fortune, with the sexual liberties she had recently bestowed upon me. My mom was about to escort me out on the town, wearing a slinky, see-thru outfit, and no bra!

At this minute, her lithe digits were delicately tamping down the puffy projections that her hard nipples produced on the silky material. She struggled to puff the sleek, light-weight gauze in a futile effort to camouflage her bountiful cups. Once her abundant front porch was properly contained, Angie pirouetted and proudly displayed to me, her wares. There was no more aspect of shame or any further attempt to appear unduly modest, some transformation occurred that released my mom from the sexual shackles that had bound her, and she was ready to recognize the sensual nature that was bubbling-up inside of her. She was enjoying the way she looked; shimmering hair laying across her soft shoulders, silky, gossamer black sheath of chiffon slit practically to her waist, no bra or stockings to distort the lines and 4-inch strappy heels that made her seem six-feet tall. At forty years old, she looked thirty and felt like twenty. Angie knew that the apparel was more than a bit revealing, but she didn't look desperate and she felt so damn sexy. This would be for her, a night to prove something and to finally announce herself.

The only real drawback it seemed to me, was that I was not really her "date" or her husband, but her ogling, obtrusive son.

After a little quiet deliberation, she turned to me with a hopeful look and said, "Well honey, what's your opinion? I'll change if you think I look like a slut. I don't want to embarrass you. Infact I'm hoping to impress you. Please Dennis, tell me the truth. I wore this because I wanted you to notice me. Am I showing too much cleavage or are my tits exposed? I'll do whatever you want, I want you to understand that. Just having you look at me like you were, makes me feel so good and I'd do anything to recapture that!" Then she used the term "Daddy," that I though was hilarious considering the situation. And I sort of laughed it off, by saying something insipid like, "that's my girl, you're making me so happy."

I could only nod dumbly and I managed to sputter that she was the most sexy, desirable woman that I have ever seen. She smiled broadly and then kissed me on the lips. A real, soft, wet kiss. I could taste the strawberry flavor of the gloss and felt her raspy, wet tongue brush briefly into my open mouth. The tingle ran all the way to my balls. I was perplexed as I recalled her last statement and my cock started to uncoil from it's cramped confines, sensing that something was about to happen.

She was giggling now and playfully pushing her boobs together with both hands, then she squeezed them and thrust them at me just to startle me out of my trance. She then resumed jiggling them as a test, first to see exactly how far and how fast she could move with her chest remaining under wraps. Secondly it seemed, just how much of her luscious melons that she could tempt me with and not cause an indecent, incestuous commotion in a crowded restaurant. She knew I was admiring her tits and she enjoyed showing them off to me.

Her mood lightened and entered another dimension of maternal propriety. "I'll make a deal with you Denny," She conspiratorially whispered. "I have a little black shawl that will keep all other prying eyes from seeing your possessions. I'll remove it when we get seated. If you promise me that we'll sit in a dark corner, I'll make certain that only you get to have these." She plumped her generous globes for emphasis, while giggling joyously, and bounced each one under my nose. "When we're alone together, or whenever else you want, they're all yours, but I hope you don't mind if I see how other men respond to them." And with a sly wink she purred, "You know that I only want to be Daddy's favorite girl." Then she fell into a fit of seductive laughter and danced towards the front door. As she passed me, her hand reached for my booming erection and she didn't let it go. "You're going to have to impress me, too." She playfully scolded. Her hand caressed the length of my swollen tool and she tightened her grip like she was swinging a bat. And she pulled me along by grabbing the crotch of my pants and leading me as if I were on a leash. Explaining as she walked, "C'mon young stud, we don't want to be late, and I really need a glass of wine."

So we proceeded to the car with my mom ahead of me but reaching back in the way that a mother holds her toddler's hand, only in her grasp was my solid hunk of manhood with my body hustling to keep pace. She was laughingly tugging me along, prancing and smiling. There were neighbors, but the light was fading and we moved so close, that her actions were essentially innocuous to all but me. With gentle but pronounced pressure being applied, she controlled me completely but that didn't seem to be exactly her intention.

Mom was flirty, flighty and exhilarated and I was absolutely flummoxed but she was massaging my cock, and I was a happy boy, so into the car we go. On the ride there was no more groping, (and not even a mention of it,) but she was still elated about the evening and full of energy. She even snuggled against me, as much as seatbelts allowed, and chattered non-stop. I probably should have listened more attentively to her, I may have discovered something relevant. But my cock was hard, weird fantasies danced in my head, I couldn't resist looking down the front of her dress and as the fog lifted from my brain, I was puzzled by a few things in her ramblings.

There were only about a thousand things that suddenly made no sense whatsoever. I'll try to sort them out and stick to the nine-hundred that affect me. First of all, was her sudden hyper-sexuality that I believed before this night, was in a long-dormant condition. I'm not going to try to comprehend hormones or decipher someone's self-image. She was a beautiful, sexy woman who wanted people, ( me atleast for the moment,) to see her sensuous side and to appreciate her lovely treasures while she wished to display them. Yeah for me!