Nandita To Nandini
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My Mother's SonChapter 11: Photographer And Model free porn video
Dear Diary,
For what it is worth, I do think that C is coming through puberty fairly comfortably. I hope I am helping the process and not doing harm. The outward signs seem positive. He is less awkward socially now, especially with girls. He's not so brazen that he is boorish about it, just seems to be somewhat more comfortable than many of his boy friends. So, that's good.
My own feelings are more complicated than I expected. There are, I find, at least two forms of erotic stimulation in the relationship of mother and son. It scares me a little that I enjoy both, but the fear is going away. My feelings must surely be common. All mothers must feel them to a greater or lesser degree.
There is the titillation of the normal man/woman thing. He loves to look at my breasts, my legs, under my skirt, and to see me in my undies. All that is natural. And, being truthful, I enjoy having him see me just as if he were one of the men at the office. It is very stimulating and I frequently find my nipples crisping and sometimes my panties moistening when I realize that C has looked down my blouse or had a glimpse of my panties. I can't help it; it just thrills me a little bit each time, knowing that my appearance has the power to stimulate him. I know that I extend the opportunity, too. And, being frank, I dress with that in mind sometimes.
There is second level of this lovely feeling.
Sometimes we have a moment of true sexual arousal Last night, after my shower, I put on panties and pulled my negligee on. There was just a small vanity lamp lighted and I was manicuring my toenails when C came into the room. I rarely close the door to my bedroom. And I'm comfortable with him being around as I dress. I had my foot up on the stool beginning to do my nails. Charley sat on the bed. I looked down and realized that with no bra that C could see my nipples through the negligee. My nipples immediately came to life as we talked. As his eyes were drawn to my breasts, I felt myself straighten up, my breasts thrust out. We seemed to be shrouded in a warm aura of intimacy. We talked on an on. I know we both felt the attraction and the erotic pull. Sometimes words would catch in his throat from nervousness. So that is another of the feelings - intimacy that you can almost feel, enhanced by being nude in front of someone you love in such a special way. It is nearly orgasmic.
I don't know where it is all going to lead. But I admit to enjoying the lovely, lovely aspect of this loving intimacy.
Ellen
An immediate image of my mother in the beautiful negligee, with little bows tying the front and lace everywhere appeared in my mind's eye. You could see through it but there was so much material that it was not completely see-through. It made her body beautiful and exotic as if she stood in a wispy cloud. I always loved seeing her in it. And I recall that very night. I recall that she had blue panties on but no bra. The bra was sitting next to me on the bed when I sat down to talk.
Her breasts were opulent. I could see the beautifully curved underside of each breast swooping up to the jutting nipples. I cannot, even now, find words which describe that beauty. Perhaps she has captured it in the diary. My feeling was overwhelming. I felt warm from the closeness, but more than that, the sight of her breasts and body conveyed an emotion that I struggle to describe. Words caught in my throat, yet I felt wonderful. I felt like king of the world. I could have done anything at that moment. But what I wanted to do most was bask in the sensual fog that seemed to include just the two of us in the corner of the room. Perhaps the dim light was part of it, closing out everything else in the world. I felt like I was actually part of her and she was part of me. That's the only way I can describe the feeling.
But of course, the thrill for a fifteen year old was in staring at the beautiful curves of her body. When she put her foot down and brought the other up to trim the toenails, I glimpsed the pale almost translucent panties covering the dark triangle of hair between her legs.
I had been trying to get her to pose for photos since I bought some new studio lights. I brought it up once again.
"Oh, Charley, I'm getting too old to be modeling for a photographer. Why don't you take pictures of Sally?"
"But I'm tired of taking pictures of apples and oranges, Mom. Besides, you're prettier than apples or Sally!"
"But you are always taking my picture around the house, isn't that enough," she laughed.
"Sure, but I need practice with real lighting setups."
"Well maybe sometime."
She just smiled and I saw the flash of panties as she changed legs to begin painting her toes. Her robe gaped open and I could see the swelling of both breasts before she pulled it a little closer together. Even then, the thrill of the indescribably soft, smooth valley invited my eyes. I could see that her nipples were still quite hard and brown under the nylon. Her nipples weren't the only thing that was hard in that room. It would have been impossible for me to stand up without showing the solid erection pressing against my jeans.
"I have it all set up." I offered with a grin.
She smiled back at me. "You mean like this?"
'Great idea, Mom!" I grinned.
She laughed her throaty laugh. "Do you think you could put this paint on??
I slipped to the floor without standing up to expose my raging hard-on; and took the little bottle of polish. I began to brush carefully. But though she tucked the robe down between her legs, I still had a full view up to her panties cradling the full fleshy mound of her sex. The feeling of close intimacy was even greater, and my hand shook with excitement.
"Well, okay, just one, then." she ran her fingers through my hair and I jumped up in spite of the erection tenting my jeans and led the way to the studio I had set up.
"You go ahead, I'll have to put my bra on." she said quietly.
"How about this one?" I opened her panty drawer and searched for just the right one. It was a favorite of mine and I can still recall the label after all these years - "Warner Sizzles, Size 34C." The cups were shear like the gown.
She giggled. "The panties should match, so find them too, Charley. You know my underwear better than I do, you know that?" she squeezed my arm and laughed as she kissed my cheek.
I rummaged around and found perfect little bikini panties and handed them to her, my face crimson. I couldn't look her in the eye.
In a minute or two she entered my makeshift studio, looking beautiful. I noticed that she had also put on high heels which made her look taller and slimmer and thrust her breasts out nicely.
"Okay, My Photographer, where do you want me?"
She sat on the stool and I took a sedate shot of her sitting holding a rose. I changed the stool to a higher one and she sat with feet on the floor, her gown parted over the extended long leg. I noticed that she had put on pantyhose, too. I tried to talk to her like you are supposed to; to keep the model relaxed, but it was not easy.
Mostly she posed the ways that occurred to her.
"I don't have much time, Charley, I have a date tonight, you know."
I was out of ideas. Except for one final one.
"Could you just stand there and..." I swallowed hard, " ... and ... untie... ?"
She looked into my eyes, not smiling, but running it over in her mind.
"You'll keep it ... keep it just between us?" she raised her eyebrows and looked at me carefully, her fingers at the top tie.
"Yes."
Her fingers slowly pulled the bow's string and her eyes smoldered, I thought.
The second tie, again slowly.
The third.
She shrugged her shoulders and her breasts swayed in the soft slings of her see-through bra cups. The robe parted and she pointed one toe in the model's pose.
I snapped the shutter and then focused for another photo of the tall, leggy figure that was my beautiful 35 year old mother. The panties were snug under the pantyhose and the matching bra looked like it was made for the robe whose lace trimmed halves draped over nicely nubile nipples quite visible, quite beautiful.
"Great!" I gasped.
She smiled and strode back to her bedroom, the gossamer robe flowing behind her. I slumped into a chair. The first photo shoot with a beautiful model was a smash, I thought. Personally and as a picture taker, a smash, I thought ruefully, knowing I had made mistakes. But the vision of my mother posing in her underwear is one of the prettiest visions that my mind can conjure as I get older. Delicious.
Lynne
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