Moms Hair (Part 2) free porn video

Mom's hair part 2

I didn't avoid Mom the next day. Not on your life. At breakfast and dinner I tried to send private messages to Mom through meaningful glances but she was oblivious to every one. Not once did I receive an acknowledgement of any kind. Mom didn't flash me a secret smile or glance, or avert her eyes in sudden discomfort upon interpreting an uncomfortable signal. She was the same mother I had known every day of my life.

I hadn't known what to expect. At first, I was apprehensive because I thought she might be angry with me, that I had forced myself upon her and she had to do what she did so Dad wouldn't know. But then I remembered the way things had ended and I felt eager to engage her in anticipation of another wonderful evening brushing her hair. The last thing I expected was no change at all.

But that's the way it was. Mom largely ignored when I got home after school, responding only when necessary to my atypical chit chat with her. I gave up and went to my room, as I normally did. Mom's interaction with Dad was typical and she dealt with me the way she always did after I came downstairs to wait for dinner. Dinner ... you guessed it ... was exactly the same as any other dinner. Mom chatted about her day, asked Dad about his and me about mine and then she and Dad went to the living room while I cleaned up the table, loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned the counters before joining them to watch some TV.

Mom totally ignored my hints about her hair, my attempts to catch her attention, and my long looks at her legs and small breasts. Eventually, I became disgruntled and left for my room to blow off my built-up tension by killing something on the computer.

Was this it? Was last night a one-timer? Did she think the easiest way to handle it to pretend it didn't happen? She hadn't responded to any of my references to her hair. Though I hadn't explicitly asked her if she wanted it brushed, she didn't pick up on the hint. She couldn't have missed the obvious request so the answer must be no, she didn't want her hair brushed.

I was startled by the quiet knock on my door. Mom came in before I could answer, carrying a mug of hot chocolate. She brought over and set it down on the desk, her hand reaching out to rest across on my shoulders while she looked at the computer screen and the game I was playing. I thanked her for the drink.

"I thought you might be studying," she said, implying she wouldn't have brought me anything if she'd known I was just playing a game.

"No, I just needed to blow off some steam," I replied. More like frustration, I thought to myself, conscious that Mom was wearing a housecoat which meant she'd already changed for bed. Her hip felt warm pressing against the side of my arm. Mom's hand lifted from my shoulder and her fingers curled around to play with the hair at the nape of my neck.

"Well, that's one way to do it," she said.

Mom played with my hair for a few more seconds before pulling her hand away and walking to the door where she briefly paused.

"Dad's just gone to bed."

She was gone but somehow it felt like she was still there. It wasn't just the faint smell of perfume or other feminine products, it was the excited tension her voice had inspired in me. My nerves tingled and I found it hard to breathe. Dad had gone to bed. She hadn't said goodnight. She'd just told me that Dad had gone to bed, and she'd brought me a drink, implying I should take a few minutes to drink it.

I jumped up and stripped my clothes off, lunged to the dresser and grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms and jockey shorts, yanked them on and then searched for a t-shirt. After that I turned for the door.

Too quick, I thought, turning back. I'd better finish the hot chocolate. I strode to the desk and picked up the mug, taking a big swig. Shit! I sprayed frothy brown foam all over my LCD screen. Christ, that was hot! I picked up the front of my t-shirt and stuffed it into my mouth, trying to relieve my burning tongue. Jesus!

Seeing the stain on my t-shirt, I pulled it off and tossed it to the floor. I began looking for another one but changed my mind. The hell with it. I go the way I was. Thinking about it, I took my pajama bottoms off, stripped off my jockey shorts, and put the pj's back on by themselves. No guts, no glory, I thought, suddenly riding a wave of confidence again. I returned to the computer desk and slowly sipped the hot chocolate until it was gone. As fast as I could, mind you, but without burning myself again. With confidence and anticipation, I strode out my door.

By the time I reached the door to my parent's room my anticipation was unchecked but my confidence had waned somewhat. Mom hadn't actually asked me to come. What if Dad was awake? My pajama's weren't exactly tenting, shrinkage having wreaked havoc with my new found anxiety, but I was still loose and fancy free under there and anything could happen. I looked down; not now, anyway. I was through the door, having continued walking.

The room was dim and filled with the sound of my father's heavy breathing periodically broken by a soft snore. Mom was sitting in front of the dresser, her back to me. I approached slowly, stepping quietly on the thick carpet. She looked up and smiled as I neared, lifting her right hand over her shoulder, offering the hairbrush. My fingers trembled as I took it. Saying nothing, Mom turned her eyes down, and waited.

I pulled the brush through her hair with my first tentative stroke. Mom's hair was damp and I had to pull harder to force the bristles through her thick mane but not so hard that it would hurt. I worked diligently and actually lost myself in the task, pulling the hair away from her back with one hand to avoid snagging the robe, while tugging the brush through, slowly parting and straightening smaller and smaller bundles of hair. Eventually, I was stroking the full length of her hair without hitting a snag but found it harder to hold her hair away from her back. I kept snagging the robe.

After one such incident, probably the thirtieth, Mom lifted both hands to her neck, shrugged and wiggled, and her robe slipped off her shoulders, piling on the seat beside her and falling to hand down to the floor behind her. I continued brushing, expecting to snag her nightgown but encountered no resistance. Perhaps it was one of those ones made with silky material. Being cautious, I decided to pull Mom's hair away from her back anyway. My knuckles grazed Mom's back as I gathered her hair to pull it out a bit and was halfway through my brush stroke before I realized that the material was oddly warm and soft. The next stroke confirmed it but it wasn't until the third stroke, when I peered under the pulled out hair, that I knew for certain that my knuckles had sc****d along Mom's bare back.

She wasn't wearing a nightgown. I pulled her hair way out from her back before applying the brush on the next stroke, opening a long column of bare back, and buttock. Working my way from that side to the center, I was able to see a long column of smooth skin that ended in a canyon that quickly narrowed to a dark crack. I was looking down at Mom's ass, at least the bit of it she wasn't actually sitting on. For the first time, my pajamas began to tent. I looked over at Dad. He was still sleeping so my eyes returned to the magic slice of skin.

"Something wrong?" Mom's soft voice startled me. She hadn't whispered and I looked at Dad again in case he opened his eyes. "He's sleeping," Mom added, waiting for an answer her question.

I was still holding the hair away from her back, the brush in my other hand waiting to be applied. No wonder she'd asked. I was just staring at her ass crack.

"Um ... no. I was just ... um,"

"... going to massage my scalp?" Mom finished for me.

"Yeah, that's ... uh, yeah."

Mom held her hand up and I put the brush in it. After putting it on the dresser, Mom leaned back toward me, tipping her face upward, eyes closed. My thighs pressed against her back. I started running my fingers through Mom's hair and scratching lightly at her scalp. Mom didn't make an aural response until my fingers slipped down to trace her forehead.

"Mmmmmmmmm, I like that," she purred.

I trailed my fingertips around as lightly as I could, carefully running over her closed eyelids, feeling her eyes underneath, running along the side of her nose and then horizontally across her lips.

"Mmmmmmmm," she murmured.

I pushed my other hand down to cup Mom's cheek and let my other fingers slide over her chin and down the length of her neck, gently caressing her exposed throat. Slowly, slowly, I thought. I spent some time tickling around and around on her neck, up and down an also up each side, cradling her head in my other arm, its fingers now stretching across her chin and mouth.

She was naked to her waist where the still belted robe covered her lap. But her chest was bare and I had an open view of her breasts, topped by a small, pointier swelling before her nipples, so long, burst forth. I pulled up on her chin, twisting her head back and loving the way her tits pushed out as she arched her back to accommodate the additional stress on her spine. My pajama tent grazed the back of her neck and stayed there as my hand stroked her neck.

"Mmmmmmmm," Mom purred again, her head moving in a small, appreciative oval which caused her neck to rub against my equally grateful cock.

I didn't think I could take a minute of her twisting neck but I did. I let my neck-stroking fingers slide down further, further, until my palm sc****d over her hard, long nipple.

"Ohhhhhhhhh."

I don't know which one of said that. Maybe both. I massaged her tit, gently squeezing her nipple. I stepped closer, forcing her more upright, my cock pressing against the back of her shoulders, my other hand stretching down to capture her free tit, fingers enveloping it and pinching that nipple in a gentle vice. I hunched my cock into Mom's back as I tugged her nipples toward the mirror.

"Ohhhhhhhh."

"Mmmmmmm."

We were in perfect tune.

I rubbed my palms back and forth over her nipples, bending them all around her tits while I thrust my cock up and down between her shoulder blades. I was going to cum, I was near. My breath was raspy and ragged. Fuck, I was going to cum all over her back. In her hair?

Suddenly, Mom leaned way forward and her tits slipped from my hands. I was left leaning over with my hands empty and my pajamas forming a large pyramid in front. Panting, I stared down at Mom, also breathing hard, her head on the dresser, hands laying on its edge at either side of her head.

I'd gone too far, got too carried away. She'd stopped me. Was she waiting for me to go? I didn't want to but could I face her when she turned around? Could I really stay and make her face me? Could I really just leave and pretend this hadn't happened.

Mom's head lifted, turned sideways toward Dad, briefly, then back down toward the floor. She was turning, away from Dad, spinning on the bench seat the way she'd done last night. Her knees were at the end now and coming around toward me on my side of the bench. I looked down at the top of Mom's head, she was keeping her face turned down to the floor. Her knees were square to me now and her legs opened. Head still down, Mom's arms raised and stretched out, closing onto the side of my thighs, hands folding around and pressing me forward, toward her, like last night. I gave way.

My thigh once again made contact with the inside of Mom's and continued pressing until my leg was stopped by the juncture of hers.

"Ohhhhhhh," Mom purred.

A warm, damp bristly mat impinged on the soft flesh just above my knee. She wasn't wearing panties. She was completely naked under that robe.

I put my hands gently on the top of Mom's head and stroked the hair down the sides of her face, pushing it back. Slowly, Mom's face turned up toward me but stopped when she was looking directly ahead, at my pajama pyramid. Why hadn't I worn my jockey shorts? If I had, I would surely now be poking outside my pajamas, ready to feel her hot breath, and maybe even her wet tongue. But I was stuck inside, making this ridiculous tent.

Mom's head moved forward and I gathered her hair in my hands, holding it up behind her head as she leaned in. I wanted to pull my pajamas down but was afraid to take the initiative. Please poke out. Please. But I wasn't long enough.

No matter. Mom's head kept coming and her face bumped my rigid tent, adjusted, and then her mouth slipped over the head of my cock, pajamas and all.

"Uuuuuuuhhhhhhh," I cried, not able to dampen my cry regardless of my father's presence.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," I cried as Mom's mouth pressed further, enveloping more of me and my pajamas.

Her mouth closed, clamping my cock firmly in her mouth. She didn't move for several very long seconds. Then, instead of pulling away, as I expected, she began milking my cock, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, the same way I had worked on her tits. Mom's arms circled my hips, pulling me closer, her legs closing on mine, her wet pussy rubbing my lower thigh, faster now.

I began to push my pajama-covered cock into Mom's mouth, trying to fuck it, but I had limited degrees of freedom. Nevertheless, I kept thrusting, she kept milking, I pushed and twisted my knee, and she kept squeezing and rubbing.

Suddenly, Mom's hand slipped down my hips, dragging my pajamas with them just as her mouth yanked off my soaked tent. One brief moment of freedom and my pole was quickly captured again, only this time the captor was warmer, wetter, softer and more vigorous. Mom's head moved up and down on my cock of its own accord but I helped it along anyway, my own hands pushing and lifting, pushing and lifting.

Ah, fuck. The feel of my cock sliding in and out of her tight mouth, amid all those slurpy sucking sounds. Suddenly, I convulsed, bending over, pulling her head to me, keeping my cock shoved in her mouth. My hips were jerking, my spasms unloading my white son's cream in her throat.

"Uggghhh, uggghhh, unnnggghhh."

Finally, I was still. Gradually, the tension in my hips, legs and arms relaxed, releasing her head, her mouth slipping off my sagging cock. It flopped down as soon as it passed her lips. Her head sagged down again.

"Away you go now. Off to bed," she said, like she used to when I was little after kissing me goodnight.

I backed away, pulling my pajamas up, my eyes straying belatedly over to check on Dad, relieved that he his eyes were closed even though I knew I was safe before that was confirmed because I he was still snoring. Mom didn't move the whole time I backed away. She was still hunched over when I left the room.

The next day was the same as the day before. Mom acted like nothing had happened. I was relieved because she had looked so dejected when I'd left her room. I didn't try to badger her this time, didn't try to send or received any secret signals. I acted just like she did. I didn't rush when she brought me a mug of hot chocolate. I took my time with it, relishing in her parting words, "Dad's just gone to bed."

Though I had taken my time, Mom hadn't yet sat down in front of the dresser when I entered her room. She was just walking out of the bathroom, wearing a white robe that fit her body well. It wasn't terry cloth or silky but a soft looking material. It was belted at the waist but open down her front to there. Nothing showed because she didn't have big ones, but I knew those delightful treats were easily accessible.

Mom smiled as she passed between me and the bed where Dad was sprawled on his back, snoring quietly with his legs spread wide, and I stood unabashed by the tent already fully formed in my pajamas in full anticipation of tonight's brushing.

"Hello Michael." She seemed pleased.

"Hi Mom." My breath was already catching.

I started to follow her to the dresser but Mom motioned for me to stay put. She picked up her brush and tapped the light to turn it off, leaving the room lit only by the light that managed to escape the bathroom through the almost closed door.

Were we going downstairs? My already hard cock subsided a little. I realized that, despite the fear factor or maybe because of it, I got off on the danger of our little game proceeding in my Dad's presence.

Mom returned, stood in front of me, and handed me the brush.

"It must be hard for you to brush my hair standing behind me like that when I'm sitting," Mom said.

"No, it's ok. I don't mind," I replied, not wanting to change anything we did.

"No," she said. "We'll do it here. It will be easier on you."

I was happy just to hear her say we weren't leaving the bedroom. I took the brush from Mom's hand and she stretched up on her toes to give me a kiss on my cheek, then thought better of it and gave me a quick kiss on my lips, directly on my mouth for the first time in my life.

Mom turned away and kneeled on the floor, facing the end of the bed. Her hands were busy in front of her and I realized she was pushing the robe off her shoulders. As it fell to the floor, still caught around her waist, she leaned forward to rest her head on the edge of the bed, between Dad's widespread feet. I fell to my knees behind her, knees straddling her outstretched calves, squatting above her feet. I started to brush her hair.

Like the night before, I brushed Mom's hair for a long time. I knew she was naked under the robe and I was enjoying the anticipation of what was to come, fondling her tits before she turned to take me into her mouth. Eventually, as I brushed, I allowed my free hand to stroke her skin, caressing first her back but then more and more along her sides. I let my fingers stretch around to her front to strum over her waiting nipple, flicking it, sometimes pinching, sometimes grasping and squeezing her whole tit. The way she arched her back and sighed in response, I knew she loved this extended love play.

How was this to work, I wondered, when she turned around? We weren't standing. Should I stand and pull her to her knees? No, that was too one-sided. What if, still kneeling, I forced her thighs around mine so she could rub her pussy on it? Could I then bend her head down to take me into her mouth?

Playing the scenario out in my mind made we think, why not get started? Why not press my knee between her legs now? I dropped the brush and the pretense of brushing her hair in favor of continuing to stroke her tit. Now free, I used my hand to pull her feet apart far enough that I could slip my knee between her legs. Quickly, I slid it forward until it nudged her behind. Mom accommodated me, lifting her bum up and opening her legs a little wider. I pushed in further, scr****g the top of my knee across the bottom of her pussy.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," I heard what she thought of what I was doing.

I continued brushing her tit and reached around with my other hand to similarly treat her other one that had so far been deprived of my attention. I kept pushing and lifting my knee, gently grinding my leg into Mom's pussy. I could tell this was truly appreciated, not only by the sounds Mom made but also because she stretched her pelvis back so more of her pussy, especially the front, could sc**** along my leg.

It was after one particularly loving moan in response to a long grind and rub that I decided to hell with it and slipped my hands down from her tits to undo the belt and pull her rob apart. I pulled it out to the right side and let it drop to the carpet. Mom was completely naked before me.

I grasped her hips and pulled her back and forth along my thigh, tensing my muscles to make it press harder into her pussy as it moved up and down. She seemed to love that and was really getting into it. Her abandoned response made we think again. I didn't want to turn her around. I wanted to keep this going. I slipped my right hand down and in, over her belly and between her legs, my fingers stretching down to find her damp pubic hair, following it down until I pierced through her wet slit.


In response to her guttural moan, I pushed my fingers into her cunt. She was too far gone to deny me. She needed it. Had Dad fucked he in the last year? Two? I didn't think so, not the way her cunt grabbed so desperately at my fingers. I pulled up so my palm covered her mound and dug pressed back against her clit, rubbing in a small circle there. Her hips began to gyrate. She was getting really hot.

Frantically, I used my free hand to shove my pajamas down, awkwardly catching the waistband on my extremely hard cock, finally getting it free with great difficulty. I kicked her left wide to make room for mine and pulled her hips up, shoving forward to bring my cock below her gaping thighs. When I began to lower her, I think she realized what was happening.

"No Michael. No."

But it was too late. My cock was already in her wet slit, spreading her lips, popping inside her hot cunt. As Mom's knees hit the carpet, I lunged forward, impaling her on my cock, fully embedded inside her clutching pussy.

Mom didn't try to stop me. She didn't say no again, she just reacted. She seemed just as happy when I moved slowly in and out as when I rapidly jammed myself into her, hammering into her ass cheeks, making a wet slapping sound that should have woken the dead but didn't wake my Dad. Not that we cared. We were beyond it. We were fucking, intensely joined, rutting like two a****ls. One arm was curled around her belly while the other held a handful of hair. For some reason, pulling her head back to turn her face up really turned me on.

I didn't ever want to stop fucking her. I was both desperate to cum and wanted to avoid it at all costs. I couldn't imagine my cock ever pulling out of her. The feel of it sliding through that textured tunnel was exquisite. I couldn't live without it, my mother's pussy, the feel of her ass billowing against my hips as my cock dug deep into her cunt. I came hard, spewing my seed in a series of wild, lunging thrusts, slowly winding down until I was still.

But I didn't pull out. We leaned, her against the bed, me on her back, gasping for breath. I kept myself pressed tightly to her ass, keeping my cock inside that incredible warmth. As our breath returned and I could sense she was ready for me to pull out, I began moving again. A couple of tiny thrusts. I'm sure she thought I was taking those last, saddened pokes before leaving but I kept it up and by the time she realized what I was doing, as my cock stiffened inside her, she was ready too and started squeezing my shaft, pulling on it, welcoming it with a warm cuntal hug.

I pulled Mom away from the bed and turned her, pushing her down to the floor. She spread her legs wider and raised her hips, opening herself to my attack. After a while, I closed her legs and pulled her up to her knees, keeping her head down on the carpet. I got to my feet and straddled her, attaining an angle that allowed me to reach maximum depth inside her maternal womb. We ended with her flat on the floor, legs together with me sitting on her thighs, cock embedded in her pussy, grinding away as I held an ass cheek in each hand.

I came and then leaned forward, stretching my body over top of hers, kissed her on her mouth and whispered in her ear, "Tomorrow?"

Mom nodded, exhausted.

Wouldn't it be nice to say that the next day was the same? That Mom continued playing the same innocent "I'm just your mom" game until her evening mutation into my woman. But the next day was different. The first day I had tried so hard to make a special connection, and the second day I resigned myself to the "I'm just your mom" gig, but the third day was Saturday and all of us were home all day.

One difference was that I stayed home whereas usually I hung out with my friends until dinner and then went out again. Typically, I was home no more than an hour after I got up and though Dad didn't seem to notice anything different, Mom certainly did. She seemed antsy but didn't say anything directly, instead asking how such and such a friend was, and I haven't seen so and so for a long time ... that kind of thing. But I didn't bite on her ploy to ferret out an explanation for why I was staying home.

It took me a while but it eventually dawned on me that Mom was having trouble ignoring me. She wasn't angry about me making suggestive remarks, or casting long yearning glances her way. Unlike the first day, I wasn't doing any of that. It was as if my mere presence bothered her. To be clear, she didn't seem angry or upset in that way. It was more like she was having difficulty acting normal with me constantly there, as if she couldn't concentrate because she was aware of me all the time. I think I was making her excited.

It was in her mannerism somehow that I couldn't precisely define. In her voice, for sure. There was a nervousness, a fragility that made her voice sound as if she was holding her breath, like she might if she was stepping gingerly over some sharp pebbles.

I tried hard not to glance her way and probably didn't succeed but I certainly didn't leer or let my eyes dwell on her body. But neither did I leave. I stayed near her. At one point late in the morning, when Dad left the kitchen to visit the bathroom, I sauntered over to where she was standing and stood beside her.

Looking out the window as she was, I casually remarked, "You look really nice today Mom."

"Oh?" she replied wistfully.

"Yeah," I said. "I don't know what it is but there's something special about you today."

I didn't touch her or say anything more. I left it at that. When I heard Dad approaching I simply walked away, outside, signaling my understanding that this special moment was over, that it wasn't to be shared with anyone no matter how close or important. It's hard to describe but that quiet moment seemed more intimate than the previous night when I lay on top of her with my softening cock still dripping between her legs. The connection was ephemeral yet concrete and enduring.

Later that afternoon, long after lunch, I was standing in the same spot looking out the back window watching Dad gardening in the back yard near the greenhouse. Mom came in quietly behind me and I didn't notice her until she stood beside me, resting one hand on the counter in front of us. She looked out the window just as Dad stood and carried something into the greenhouse, leaned my way and pressed her hip against mine, curling her arm around my waist to rest her hand on my hip.

"He certainly enjoys his gardening these days, doesn't he?"

"Yes," I agreed, slipping my arm around her, resting it in the same spot on her hip.

"He's more and more in his own world this past year," Mom said, stating a fact rather than complaining.

I pulled her closer and she leaned her head toward me as her body was pressed more tightly to mine. I kissed the top of her head and let my hand fall, sliding from her hip to loosely cup the denim covering her buttock, my fingers finding and resting in the little hollow on the side while my palm experienced the full jut of her cheek.

"You're not alone," I whispered.

Mom's arm squeezed me tighter but she didn't reply. When Dad exited the greenhouse and walked toward the house, we parted again in tacit agreement that this was another moment meant only for us.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly and dinner was excruciating. I told Mom and Dad I was going out. Mom looked surprised and I think a little disappointed. I wasn't actually going anywhere, having already told my friends I was sick but I had to get out of the house. I drove around for an hour or so and returned home. It wasn't even ten but when I entered the darl house I knew right away that my parents had gone to bed.

As I topped the stairs, I was disappointed to see no light shining from Mom's bedroom, not even the dim light from her dresser. I went into my room and got changed for bed anyway, thinking I would play some games or cruise the net. I couldn't believe Mom hadn't waited for me after the 'understanding' we had shared earlier today. Naked, I searched for a new pair of pajamas but there weren't any fresh ones in my drawer, nor could I find the ones I'd worn last night. I guess Mom had put them in the wash sometime during the day. I sat down at my computer buck nake but within moments I stood up, bored and uninterested in games or the web.

I don't know why I wandered out of my room and down the hall to Mom's room. The door was open about a foot and I quietly slipped inside and stopped, letting my eyes get used to the dark, listening past my Dad's snoring for any sign that Mom was not asleep. I stepped closer, straining to hear and was startled when my foot bumped into another.

"Mom?" I whispered.

"Michael?" Mom's reply drifted faintly from below, directly in front of me.

Cautiously, I stepped forward, hands stretched out feeling the darkness, expecting to make contact with her sitting on the end of the bed. How long had she been waiting in the dark? Why hadn't she said something when I walked by when I first came home. How could her foot be stretched out so far? Just as I realized that she must be sitting down on the floor at the end of the bed, my knees collided with her chest. I started to kneel down but I was too close to the bed and my knees bumped against the end of the mattress, catching on the boxspring below it.

Mom's hands were on my thighs, sliding up toward my hips. I was off-balance, only my knees pressing against the mattress kept me from falling onto Mom. I was startled again when my cock brushed by the side of Mom's face, scr****g by her ear and nestling in her hair. Christ, I didn't have any clothes on. I'd forgotten. About to apologize, ready to spring back onto my feet, I was blocked by Mom's hands grasping my hips. Her face pulled away but returned immediately. I could feel my tip bumping against her cheek, her chin and lips, and then it was wet, sliding into Mom's mouth. Her fingers gripped my ass, pulling my cheeks, holding me inside.

Slowly, her head started moving back and forth and in no time I could the sound of her wet, sloppy cocksucking. I put my hand onto the bed to brace myself, a minute later leaning further forward onto my elbows, my hips moving slightly as I began fucking Mom's face. It wasn't gently. We were both too eager. Her teeth sc****d my cock but I didn't care. I shoved faster and faster into her face. I was too hepped up, I needed release. Too long a day, too much thinking, not enough fucking. Until now that is. My hips were bucking. How could that loud slurping not wake my father? Oh shit, my cockhead was vibrating, it was coming, bolting up my shaft, into her, gush, gush, gush. I could hear her, swallowing, then gurgling like she was drowing, then swallowing again, gulping. I tensed all my muscles, urging my sticky seed out, needing to fill her.

I was done. I slipped back, now finding it so easy to fall to the floor, straddling her thighs, collapsing against her, feeling her tits poke into my chest. She was naked. There was no robe. She had been sitting on the floor at the end of the bed, waiting, naked.

My wet cock pressed into her stomach, and I involuntarily hunched into her, fucking her torso for several thrusts. I leaned down and pressed my face to hers, feeling her wet cheeks. It was tears, not my cum.

"Mom?" I whispered.

"Michael ... oh, Michael," she mumbled.

I stood up, finding and pulling her hands with me.

"Come on," I urged, tugging her toward the door.

"No, I can't," she whispered.

"Yes," I whispered, more urgently. I pulled harder but her hands pulled out of mine.

I bent down but couldn't retrieve her hand. Instead, I found her foot and curled my hand around her ankle. Lifting her leg, I pulled her across the carpet, through the door and into the hallway where the dim light from my open bedroom door highlighting her curves and casting shadows in her feminine valleys. Her eyes watched me as I dragged her like a caveman toward my room, luscious brown hair trailing on the carpet behind her. She made no protest, not by sound or struggle.

I pulled her well into my room, dropped her foot to the floor with a dull thud, and closed my door. Returning, I briefly surveyed my prize, then knelt between her legs, lifting her knees and pushing her legs back toward her chest. Scooting underneath, I rose up on my squatting feet and nudged my cock into her open slit, lifted a little more to improve my angle, and slid home with a loud grunt.

"Unnnnnghhhhh," Mom responded to my first long thrust.

I stayed bottomed inside her while I adjusted my stance, pushing her legs back even further. I started fucking her, holding her knees tight to her chest, hands gripping her small tits, staring intensely into her eyes. I didn't fool around. I didn't vary my pace or try to be cute. I simply fucked her, straight and hard. I wasn't in a hurry. Filling her mouth had freed me from any such desperate need. I just wanted to fuck her long and hard. Not once did I look away and neither did her eyes waver. I loved fucking her like this. She couldn't move, she could only take me. And she did, pulling more and more from me, wresting control away from me until much later, when my cock was digging into her at a furious pace, and her eyes pleaded for release though our grunts and moans. I spewed all of my spunk inside her bare, unprotected cunt as her feet tried desperately to hold me closer, her heels digging into my shoulders.

A long time later, when my cock dropped out of her pussy followed by the dregs of my white cream, I stood and helped her to her feet. Wordlessly, she turned to walk back to her room but I pulled her back and took her in my arms, hugging her closely for over a minute. Our heads finally pulled back and we kissed. On the lips at first, just a light brushing, but quickly followed by several deep, tongue lashing duels. We were breathing faster when we finished. Mom pulled away again, our hands joined, stretching out as the gulf between our bodies widened but at that last moment, when our fingers should have parted, I pulled her to me again.

Mom rolled into my arms, expecting another long kiss, but I turned her and pushed her toward my bed. Belatedly, she realized what I was doing and protested but I pushed her forward until she fell on her tummy across my bed, knees and feet dangling over the edge. She tried to push herself up but I pressed her down with a hand in her back while my legs nudged hers apart. She was still.

I spent a few minutes arranging her hair until it was spread evenly over her back, untangled. She waited patiently while I did this, seeming to enjoy it as much as I did, as if she could see how beautiful her hair was through my eyes.

I bent my knees, my now hardening cock reaching for the juncture of her legs, finding her pungent pussy and pushing in, slowly, until I was all the way in. Her arms stretched out and her hands grasped the far side of the mattress. I leaned over her back, bringing my head close to hers.

"I love being inside you," I whispered.

"Then fuck me," she said, pushing her ass up and back, clamping down, and pulling on my cock.