Cumming Home

It had never been my intention to move back home after I had moved out and gotten a place of my own. But times were hard at the moment, for everyone. Having only graduated from high school the year before, I had managed to land a fairly decent job in construction. The problem with that was, when money for jobs dried up, there were layoffs. And I was amongst the first to be let go. Unable to afford the rent, I had no choice but to ask my folks if I could come back home to live until I could find another job and get back onto my feet again.

They were of course happy to help me out, letting me come back. But there was one small little problem. The bedroom I had had down stairs was half way through the process of being expanded into an even bigger family room than we'd had. Dad had already knocked out the wall separating the two, so I no longer had the privacy of a closed door. And since dad hadn't as yet bought the pool table he'd been planning on putting in there, I still had a place to put my bed along with a single dresser and night stand. But like I said, the odd part was seeing them on one side of the room watching TV, and if I'd decided to go to bed early, trying to do so on my side of a somewhat darkened room. Though they very often at least turned the sound down on the TV. After a few days of this awkwardness, mom eventually convinced dad to finish watching the news in their bedroom on the smaller TV they had up there. But at least then I could turn the lights out and go to sleep.

The other problem I hadn't really been aware of until coming back home was that mom and dad didn't seem to be getting along very well. It wasn't like they hadn't argued or discussed things loudly in the past. They had from time to time. Now...they were hardly even speaking. At least then, you felt like they were working through whatever problems any married couple might have. But now, it was more like they were merely existing, tolerating one another more than anything else. There were even times when dad stayed out later than usual with his buddies from work. Something he had never done. And on those nights after mom had come down to spend some time with me alone in the den as we watched TV, I sometimes caught her trying to hold back a sniffle. I would ask if she was ok, if there was anything I could do, or if there was anything she wanted to talk about. But there never was. All she ever told me was that she was just dealing with things, and in time, she'd be all right. But after a few weeks of this, she hadn't. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse and worse. Though no one was saying anything, I was reasonably certain that they were headed for divorce. The tiny bit of affection I had once seen between them was no longer existent. And like I said, dad was spending more and more time away from home.

As for me I was growing a bit restless myself. Unemployed, it seemed like a lifetime had passed since I'd even been out on a date. I couldn't afford it for one thing, and for another, ever since my high school sweetheart and I had broken up, I'd been too busy working up until then to even think about dating or meeting anyone else. As it was, I was being a bit moody myself one particular evening, though the honest to gods truth was, I was simply horny. Mom had stayed down in the den with me a bit longer than usual watching TV. I was waiting for her to go on up to bed so I could stretch out on the couch, put in an x-rated movie I had borrowed from a friend, and then lay there in the semi-darkness and stroke myself off. But the part I was really struggling with, my own mother was partially the cause of that horniness, and that was eating at me too.

For one, she still looked damn good in a tight pair of jeans. Mom still wore her dark hair long, and it looked good on her. Not to mention the fact she also had a nice set of boobs. I know because I'd accidentally seen them a few times, the last not that far back, just before I'd left home. I had gone upstairs to take a shower, saw the bathroom door partially open and assumed it was free. I walked in just as she was getting out of the tub. In the awkwardness of the moment, all she could do was stand there, politely asking me to hand her a towel, which I did. But not before getting a pretty good eye-full of her as she stood there. So like I said, mom had a pretty nice rack as I remembered, and suddenly that had been the image that had filled my head that evening when she came down stairs to watch TV with me.

In the evening, we both tended to get "comfy" as it were, which was no different than normal. For me it consisted of me wearing my boxers and tee shirt, which wasn't a problem, as my boxers didn't have the constantly open fly in them. For mom, it was usually a pair of sleeping shorts and a loose nightshirt. But this particular evening, for whatever reason, she had come downstairs in a simple pair of white cotton panties and a tighter than normal men's tee-shirt that clearly revealed the shapely form of her breasts hidden beneath it. Trying to keep my eyes focused on the TV and not on her had been a monumental task, especially when I kept feeling my cock harden and had to constantly fight it back down again short of embarrassing myself.

"I hope you don't mind my coming down here dressed like this," she'd begun. "But it's partially your fault that I did too," she said somewhat jokingly. It was obvious she knew she was dressed a bit more revealingly than usual.

"Oh? And why's that?" I had asked.

"Because you forgot to take your clothes out of the washer," she told me. "So I had to in order to wash mine. And now they're waiting their turn in the dryer," she explained.

"God, sorry!" I said realizing I had forgotten to do that. It had always been a rule, and one of my own chores to ensure I did my own laundry. Not that I minded doing that as I didn't. Especially as I didn't have to then explain the inordinate amount of used hankies I kept putting in there. It was that very thought which caused me to look over towards the folding table, and sure enough, there were my clothes all neatly folded and ready to be put away. Including an obvious stack of "cum-hankies" as I thought of them. Mom followed my gaze over towards the table.

"You know Jack, it's funny, but I don't recall you running around blowing your nose all the time," she said with a really weird grin on her face. "Especially for all the hankies you seem to go through," she added. I know my face was beet red, I could feel the heat in it, though words failed me. Especially when she sort of changed subjects, without really changing them. "Been a while since you've been out on a date hasn't it? You seeing anyone?" she then asked curiously.

"Ah no, not recently no," I answered feeling flustered. "No sense in it at the moment, couldn't afford to take anyone out now anyway, even if I did know anyone I could go out with."

She sat in silence thinking about that for a few moments. "Yeah, sort of hard being alone," she said just under her breath, but then I sensed she really wasn't talking about me any more either. Then she brightened and smiled looking at me. "So sometimes, we do whatever it is we need to do to get by in the meantime," she then said, and once again reminded me to put my clean clothes away before going to bed, taking it full circle. "And speaking of which, I think I'll go ahead and go on up now," she told me. As expected, and as she usually did, mom leaned over to give me a kiss goodnight. We had always kissed on the lips, not just cheek pecks, so that wasn't so unusual. What was, her lips lingered for maybe a fraction of a second longer than usual. That was. And I even found my eyes closed a bit longer afterwards, almost afraid to open them and see her looking at me. But by then she had already stood up and began to leave the room, stopping briefly in the hallway before heading upstairs. "Don't forget, we're going to paint the downstairs bathroom tomorrow," she reminded. "So don't plan on sleeping in all morning, we've got work to do." She smiled once again, and then finally climbed up the stairs. I sat there watching her until she was out of sight, admiring the tightness in her ass, the fullness of her somewhat hidden breasts, along with the reminder to put my "cum hankies" away.

"Dumbass," I thought to myself, once again feeling a little embarrassed though thankfully she hadn't come right out and pointed a finger at me for the stack of them. But I also knew, she knew damn well what I'd been using them for. That in fact made me laugh as I got up long enough to walk over to the table and grab one to use to clean myself up with afterwards. I took another quick peek up the stairs, saw she had already turned off the kitchen light on her way up to her bedroom. I then turned down the sound on the TV, and inserted one of the x-rated movies I'd borrowed. It was in fact a pretty hot one. Perhaps more so as one of the women in it reminded me a lot of my mother. I had finally settled down comfortably on the couch, cock in hand, stroking it. At one point I thought I had heard something, even turning to look up back over the couch, but the light upstairs was still off. Thinking nothing more of it, I went back to enjoying the feel my hand was giving my prick, watching the TV. I was soon cumming, enjoying a nice glorious spurt, after which I lay there for a moment just basking in the afterglow when I heard one of the upstairs floorboards creak. I again spun around, but the light was still off and I couldn't see anything. But I also knew having heard it, that it had meant someone was just coming down, or someone...had just barely made it back up.

I hurriedly stuffed my prick back inside my shorts and then turned off the TV. No one came down the stairs however, so then I knew it had to have been mom going back up. It was obvious to me that she had most likely forgotten something and had come back down. No doubt she had then seen me lying on the couch jerking off. Mortified, I could only sit there and imagine what she'd seen, porn on the TV, and me cock in hand. I decided to go upstairs and talk to her, though I wasn't honestly sure what it was I was going to say beyond some lame promise to not watch porn anymore or something. I heard the same creak in the floorboard of the step as I reached it, and then entered into the kitchen area. I walked into the main living room and then looked up the stairs. I couldn't hear anything at first until I'd actually reached the landing. When I did, it sounded like mom was crying, and I then found myself feeling even worse. I could see a light was still on beneath the door of her bedroom, approaching it cautiously. I knocked lightly, still able to hear her, though even as I rapped on the door only once, the sound I heard and now realized wasn't her crying after all. But it was something else entirely. She was moaning!

I don't know why on earth that I did it, but I cracked open the door ever so slightly peering in. The light on her nightstand was on, the only source of light, but it made it easy to see her as I stood there, and likewise told me why she hadn't heard my first gentle rap on the door either. She had her head literally buried in the pillows, on her knees with her full firm ass pointed towards me. And as amazing enough as that was, the fact she was also shoving some sort of rubber dildo in and out of herself at the moment was even more so. In seconds I felt my prick stiffening all over again. Boldly, as my mind turned to mush, I fished out my rapidly hardening cock and stood there stroking it, peeking through the door as mom continued to pummel her obviously wet cunt with the toy. The squishy liquefied sounds of her sweet cunt where easy to hear as she knelt there fucking herself. The temptation to walk up behind her, joining her there on the bed, inserting my own cock instead of the toy and then filling her with a nice thick load of cum was almost beyond my control. But the fact she was indeed my mother kept me from actually doing so. Her panting increased at that point, her moans and deep-throated sighs alerting me to the fact she was rapidly approaching climax as I found I was. When she came, I did too, grateful I had just spurted recently. The much smaller spunk shoot remaining mostly within my hand as I palmed the head of my prick jacking off into it. As I saw her collapse, I immediately and quietly close the door, tiptoeing back down the hallway, down the stairs and soon after into my own room.

It took a long time for me to finally calm down enough to fall asleep. Images of my mother working her cunt with that toy, and then me...kneeling behind her when I finally did.

Morning came far too early, but along with that the aroma of a freshly brewed cup of coffee. I opened my eyes, seeing mom sitting across from me in the family room sipping hers with another sitting on the coffee table waiting for me. I took a few extra moments waiting for my piss hard to go down some, and then rolled out of bed heading into the bathroom to relieve myself. I returned, the heat in my face barely then going down as I walked over taking dads chair rather than sitting beside her on the couch.

"Morning," I said simply taking a sip from my cup. "And thanks."

"You're welcome," she said smiling, without a hint of anything on her face. She said nothing at all about catching me the night before, nor anything else for that matter either, so I was slightly relieved she hadn't heard or discovered me standing outside her bedroom door. "Sorry to wake you up so early," she continued. "But it promises to be a hot day, and like I said, I wanted to get an early start on the bathroom before it becomes too unbearable to work in there."

She was wearing her favorite work clothes, which I'd seen her wear several times before out in the yard. They consisted of an old ratty pair of my sweats, the pants she had cut off and made into shorts, almost too short as I'd seen the lower part of her firm ass cheeks when she'd bent over before. But even the sweat top she was wearing was sexily provocative. She had cut it off baring her midriff, the top just barely concealing her breasts. The fact she was my own mother still didn't fail to get an appreciative look from me when I'd seen her in it the first time, but it was now even more so after what I'd seen the night before.

"Well? Shall we?" she asked standing up.

We'd already discussed that she'd hand paint the corners with the brush, and I would then follow behind with the roller, doing the bulk of the actual painting. I hadn't been too enthusiastic about doing this before, but suddenly now I was. Especially when she stood on the rungs of the small folding ladder in order to reach the seam within the wall where the ceiling met as she painted. The ladder wobbled a bit however on unsteady legs.

"Would you mind holding the ladder for me while I do this?" she asked. I couldn't do much at the moment anyway, so agreed to and stood there holding onto it as she reached up to paint. As she did, I realized I could see the soft rounded fullness of her bare breasts beneath the top. She hadn't worn a bra! I stood there wondering if she realized I could nearly see every bit of her tits, save for her still cleverly concealed nipples as they pressed against the material. But the fact of the matter was, as she continued to lean forward painting, I could see more and more of her well-rounded breasts. "More paint?"

She handed me the small empty butter container she'd been using to draw the paint from. Kneeling down on the floor I poured a bit more from the paint can into it and then looked up towards her. She was touching up one of the corners with what she had left on the brush. As she did, I then saw I could clearly see the bright red panties she was wearing beneath the too short pair of shorts she had on. Mom's twin cheeks were clearly revealed beneath the hem of the shorts, not to mention the clearly defined outline of her lips as her thin panties stretched over them.

"What do you think?" she then asked looking down at me as I knelt there looking up. "Too much of a contrast?"

Actually I rather liked the bright red panties against the dull gray of the sweat shorts, but then that wasn't what she was asking about either. Tearing my eyes away from her ass, though I was reasonably sure she hadn't caught me looking there, I answered. "Actually, I like it," I said honestly. She had chosen to paint the bathroom in a very bright blue, though the counter tops were likewise a marbled gray, though there were bits of sparkling blue flakes in the counter tops surrounding the washbasin and tub. She smiled with a look of relief in her face. "Nice to hear," she told me, "Your father didn't like my selection, but I told him he never uses the downstairs bathroom anyway, so why did he care?"

Her tone of voice had clearly changed as she spoke, I could hear the slight irritation and anger in it as she did so.

"Things aren't going very well between the two of you at the moment are they?" I suddenly said, surprised that I did. She stopped painting, I saw her lower her head for a moment contemplating an answer without looking at me for a moment. Though again, her pose on the ladder as she did so gave me yet another full look at her nearly revealed breasts.

"No, and they haven't been for a long time," she finally sighed. "But it's not something for you to worry about, that's between your father and I to work out...if we can," she added softly. I continued to hold onto the ladder as she reached the far corner. Though it became immediately obvious to me we should move the ladder closer as she did. She was leaning over way too far. Had I not been holding onto the ladder, it would have tipped. But the simple fact of the matter was, mom lost her own balance. As I saw her begin to fall over towards the wall, I let go of the ladder standing in front of her as I had been. In doing so, I was able to catch her easily, breaking her fall. But as I did so, my hands automatically reaching up to catch her, one slipped right up inside her loose fitting sweat shirt, the other coming about her waist as I caught her. The contact of my hand directly against her breast was unavoidable, though entirely by accident.

The ladder crashed into the wall throwing the small container of paint everywhere, though most of it spilling on me. I hardly realized it though, my hand was still pressed against the fullness of her breast beneath the top, her hard nipple filling the palm of my hand. I know it was only a second or two that we remained there like this, but I soon after withdrew my hand, though mom made no mention of the inadvertent contact, treating it as no moment, though my cock certainly hadn't. I felt it lengthen, though thankfully not enough to as yet make a scene.

She laughed then looking at me as I released her letting her stand on her own. From my shoulder to my waist I was covered in blue paint. "You look a little like a Smurf!" she giggled once again, her finger suddenly tracing a brief outline of the blue paint down along my chest. "I guess we could finish the job and actually turn you into one," she said playfully, then apologizing for her obvious mistake in leaning over too far on the ladder. "Guess I should have known better, thanks for catching me." Only then did I see her face redden, the obvious contact of my hand on her breast suddenly entering both of our thoughts as we stood there in momentary silence.

"You're welcome," I told her, and then adding. "It was my pleasure." My subtle innuendo of what I had touched not lost on her either as I said that, seeing her face redden even deeper. "Now the paint clashes," I teased, seeing it redden even more. Though she laughed at that somewhat nervously.

"Here, let me wipe you off," she told me grabbing one of several handy rags, "before you really do become a Smurf," she said once again giggling. I stood, letting her remove the paint, the gentle feel of her hands as she ran the cloth over my chest, though all that did was to lengthen my prick even more than it already was. The bulge in my shorts obviously noticeable now if she were to look down there, and nothing I could do about it if she did. Which she did, though she didn't say anything as she finished wiping up the last bit which had traveled on further down to the hem of my shorts where it pooled. "Sorry, hope these weren't a favorite pair of yours," she said then. "Looks like I ruined them for you if they were." But as she said that, I could see her eyes were looking down, which remained there for a moment longer before she again looked up. As she did, there was a bead of perspiration on her forehead, which I then wiped off with my finger, though accidentally smearing a blue streak of paint across it when I did.