Gidget Surfs Up At Bikini Beach
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You'll Get Used To ItChapter 4 free porn video
Mom was strangely angry with me that day and the next. Was it my fault that she had shoved her snatch into my face? It wasn’t like I had made her do it. She could have told me to stop licking her, she could have yelled at me or even slapped my face, but she didn’t. Maybe that’s why she was angry, because she knew it was her own fault. At any rate, it was a weird reaction to her assumption that I had had sex with a girl in the house. She obviously wanted me to know that she knew, otherwise, why wash the panties and put them in my drawer?
I certainly didn’t want to talk about the panties because if I slipped up and Mom found out they belonged to Mrs. Yamato I would really be in deep shit so I resolved to find a way to apologize to her about the night before and to seek forgiveness for tricking her into my sick game so she wouldn’t blame herself. Maybe that would do it, but how could I broach the topic of scans and pat-downs if she wasn’t speaking to me? As soon as the question formed in my mind, an idea occurred to me, one I would try this very afternoon when I got home from work.
When I drove in the driveway, Mrs. Yamato was just leaving. She was already walking away from the closed door and stopped beside my car as I shut the engine off.
“Hello, Mark,” she greeted me in a saucy tone.
“Hi,” I responded, instantly reacting to her presence.
She leaned on my open window. “Where have you been?” she asked. “I stopped by yesterday morning and today too. Are you avoiding me?”
“No,” I said, thinking how ridiculous it was that I would have to deny it. She actually thought I wouldn’t want to have her any time I could?
“You don’t have to play games with me, Mark. I’m a grown woman, not a school girl.”
“I know,” I said, nodding to affirm my understanding. “I got called back into work for more training.”
“So,” Mrs. Yamato looked relieved. “When can we get together?”
“Not until next week, at least during the day,” I answered.
“We can’t do anything at night,” she said. “My husband is always around.”
“Not even on the weekend?” I asked, eyes pleading. Her presence made me remember how good she felt with her head in the mattress and her butt in the air. A hot flash erupted in my groin. Before her, it had been months since I’d had a piece of ass.
“No,” she replied. “I miss you too,” she said sympathetically, reaching in the window to rub my cock through my jeans. “You’re so big,” she whispered, “I can still feel you inside me.”
Mrs. Yamato clutched my cock and I jerked my head toward the house, afraid Mom might be looking out a window.
“I want to feel you there again, from behind.”
She emphasized the last word in a way that let me know she really liked it that way. Remembering her underneath me with the covers in her mouth to smother her cries, I knew I really liked it that way too.
“Don’t make me wait too long, big boy. I want to feel it coming up the back of my skirt,” she whispered, giving my cock a final squeeze before walking away.
I waited in the car for a few minutes, making a scene about opening the hood and looking at the engine. There wasn’t anything wrong — with the car that is — I was simply waiting for my erection to subside. After about ten minutes, I figured it wasn’t going to get any softer unless I beat it into submission so I went into the house. I didn’t have much time before Dad came home, so I put my plan into action right away.
Mom came out of her room just as I was passing on the way to my own room. She said ‘hi’ and tried to go by me but I blocked her path.
“Spot check,” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders and holding her still.
“What?” she cried.
“Random pat-down,” I said, then explained further. “Sometimes they pull a person out of line randomly and do a pat-down. It makes people really nervous so it would be good practise for you if I surprised you with a quick pat-down now and then over the next few weeks.”
“I don’t have time for this,” dismissed my plan and tried to push past me but I held her in place.
“It’s not your decision,” I said. “It’s the rules, Madam,” I added in my professional voice, trying to keep my plan alive.
Mom sighed and relaxed. “Mark, I really don’t... , “
“Madam, I’m sorry but you’ve been selected. Please refrain from talking.”
My hands were already sliding down Mom’s arms and by the time I reached her hands, she shrugged in resignation. I proceeded quickly, performing a professional search that was consistent with my training, and did so on purpose. I didn’t want these ‘surprise checks’ to be nipped in the bud.
“Are you done?” Mom asked, when I stood back to let her pass.
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t as thorough as before,” she said.
“Sometimes they’re quick and dirty and sometimes they’re painstakingly thorough. The point is you seemed to handle it well even though it was potentially traumatic. Practise makes perfect.”
Mom laughed and the there was a palpable easing of tension between us.
“See?” I said.
I continued on to my room but Mom called out before I got there.
“Mark?” I turned. “Be careful with Margaret. She’s always wanted a son but she isn’t your mother, and she’s not very discreet.”
I was taken aback by her remark and didn’t know what to make of it.
“I know she’s not, Mom, and I only want one mother.”
I walked toward Mom and she came toward me. We met, and hugged each other.
“I know that son, but do be careful with Margaret. She means well but she’s always been an outrageous flirt and sometimes doesn’t realize when she’s gone too far.”
And Mom didn’t think she’d gone too far herself?
“I know,” I acknowledged, patting Mom on the back as I hugged her. Inwardly, my mind was scrambling. I was concerned. Did she think the panties belonged to Mrs. J? Those tiny things? Is that what this was about?
“Okay. Let me go now, I have things to do.”
I released her and we both walked away again.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Mom said, pausing at the top of the stairs. “If you’re going to have girls in when we’re out, make sure you don’t leave anything around for your father to find.”
Mom turned away and disappeared down the stairs before I had time to react, other than dropping my jaw wide open. I guess my reaction had suggested the panties weren’t Mrs. J’s after all.
So Mom and I seemed to be back on track. She may have still been concerned about Mrs. J, probably from long association with her close friend, but seemed happy to forewarn me and let me handle it on my own. At least, she didn’t say anything to me about her again and let her warning stand. I wondered what would happen if she found out who the panties really belonged to. Anyway, I was happy. Mom was talking to me again and even teasing me about suspected sexual activity in her own home. After dinner, I was helping Mom in the kitchen and for some reason I broached the subject of Mrs. J. Don’t ask me why I didn’t leave well enough alone.
“So why does Mrs. J flirt so much? Is just another form of teasing? I mean, she’s always teased me, since I was little.”
“You might have something there,” Mom answered, leaning down to put a pot into the cupboard. “She’s always been fun-loving and a terrible teaser, and a bit of a flirt, but the flirting has gotten a little out of control the last few years. Less make-believe and more real, I think.”
“Why do you think that is?” I asked.
“Oh well ... don’t say I said anything,” Mom leaned toward me and put her hand on my forearm, then continued in a confidential tone, “but I think Lennie isn’t paying much attention to her lately.”
“Not paying attention to her?” I asked dumbly, and I mean, exhibiting true naivety.
“You know ... attention,” Mom said. “Not that that’s all that rare once men get older.”
I coughed, suddenly embarrassed, and Mom laughed, truly amused.
“I guess I should have thought about who I was talking to ... I mean she isn’t getting any,” Mom broke out in hysterics at her own funny. It was one of those times when something just strikes you as really funny and you can’t stop laughing, and her reaction spread to me.
“What’s so funny?” Dad yelled from the living room.
“Nothing,” I yelled back. “Just something Mom said.”
“About what?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Mom yelled back. “It was about nothing.”
She broke out in hysterics again and I joined in. The television became noticeably louder. Mom was doubled over and so was I. She was wearing a shirt, completely unbuttoned, over a t-shirt and a pair of old jeans — a common outfit for knocking around the house in the evening. In the midst of my mirth, I noticed that Mom wasn’t wearing a bra, couldn’t be, not the way her breasts were jostling around under the green t-shirt.
As our laughter petered out we both straightened up, still chuckling. The TV now seemed horrendously loud. Mom put her hand behind herself and arched her back in a mock complaint about its soreness. If she was looking for sympathy from me, she got something else because the gesture pushed her breasts up and out, thrusting them hard against her t-shirt.
“Old girls like me shouldn’t laugh that hard,” she complained.
“Spot check,” I said.
“No way,” Mom cried, still laughing as I grabbed her shoulders.
“Yes way,” I laughed back, already checking her arms.
I quickly moved up the inside of her arms and placed my hands on her sides, then pulled them out and slipped them back in under her arms, this time inside her shirt. I kept my hands pressed against her sides but didn’t move them down her waist to her hips. I left them where they were with only the thin material of the t-shirt between them and Mom’s loose breasts. Mom looked up at me expectantly, eyes dancing, seemingly still amused but no longer laughing.
“Is this a quick and dirty one, or a serious affair?”
“Please refrain from talking,” I said, hoping the catch in my voice was chalked up to restrained laughter.
I didn’t want to move my hands, the swells of her breasts felt so good, but I had to keep up the charade. I slowly moved down her to her waist, reluctant to leave those meaty bulges of flesh.
“It seems to be a serious one,” Mom mumbled.
“Shhhhh,” I cautioned.
My hands were at her hips. I moved them behind her back and pressed her toward me, hoping to feel her breasts against my chest which were still heaving in their effort to recapture her breath from the exertion of laughing so hard. Mom fell easily against me.
“I thought you were supposed to do the legs next.”
“No talking,” I commanded.
I rubbed Mom’s back roughly over her shoulder blades, trying with some success to chafe her breasts across my chest and was thrilled when I discerned her nipples rubbing against me. Eventually, I had to move on so I slid my hands around to her stomach and, reversing them to face my knuckles inward, rubbed across her tummy. Mom’s lack of a bra worked to my advantage. When I had searched her before, I had to purposely push my hands up under her breasts, but now they virtually fell into my hands. As I did with her sides, I stopped moving my hands and just cupped her breasts.
Mom mumbled again, “You won’t do this with Margaret, will...”
“No talking,” I cut her off, in my excitement barely able to get even those two words out.
I held her breasts for at least thirty more seconds, rubbed up the sides and then underneath for another brief stay. Needing to move again, I explored between Mom’s breasts up to neck, searched around her throat, then brought my hands, palm in this time, down the outside of her breasts and cupped them for a few more seconds before giving them a gentle squeeze and departing for her hips.
I toyed with the idea of stopping then. I loved the way she was letting me to blatantly feel her up without any protest. However, I had called this spot check on the spur of the moment after seeing Mom’s breasts sloshing around under her t-shirt. Now that I had fondled them, and evidently gotten away with it, I was torn about going further. I needed time to think. Had she let me go this far because she was worried about Mrs. J and didn’t want me going astray? If so, even greater rewards could be in the offing as long as I didn’t fuck it up. It was that fear, and the fact that I needed to relieve the pressure building in my balls, that made me want to stop and run upstairs.
On the other hand, Mom was standing docile before me, eyes closed, swaying on her feet. Her obvious jealousy about Mrs. J was working to my advantage, working very well indeed. I hadn’t wanted to leave her breasts and now I didn’t want to leave the rest of her body either. Lust won out. I pushed my hands around to the small of her back and gently lowered them until my fingers were splayed over her buttocks. Gingerly, I moved my hands around her butt and was pleasantly surprised when Mom leaned forward and crashed her breasts softly into me.
She whispered, “I’m your mother,” which could have been a quiet rebuke except it wasn’t spoken in a recriminating tone.
Wonderful. I rubbed my hands all around Mom’s ass, over and over and over, until her pelvis was pressed tightly against my groin and the growing bulge it contained. When it had grown as much as it could inside my jeans, Mom pushed herself back, perhaps aware for the first time of what she was resting against.
Reluctant for this to end, I pulled my hands around to her hips and knelt down before her, my hands following down the outside of her legs. Reaching Mom’s feet, I caressed up the back of her calves, running my hands slowly up and down several times before moving to the inside of her legs above her knees. I looked up to see Mom’s head thrown back, face pointed toward the ceiling, and I knew her eyes were closed and things were still ok. I pushed my hands higher between her closed thighs and Mom shifted her feet to make room, allowing my hands to slide up until the arc described by my thumbs and the edge of my forefingers fit snugly on either side of her crotch.
I stood up, keeping my hands between Mom’s legs. As I reached my full height, I pulled my left hand away and put it on Mom’s waist above her hip, then twisted my right to fully cup Mom’s pussy outside her jeans. My touch was so light Mom might not have even been aware of it, but I was, and it made my cock so painfully hard I thought it was going to break. Several seconds passed in total stillness before I slid my hand up from Mom’s side to cup her tit in my palm. I slid my hand around her tit and squeezed, bringing my fingers and thumb down until I was grasping her nipple. Pulling my other hand way from her snatch, I slid it up to grasp her other tit in the same way. Finally, knowing something had to break, I released Mom’s breasts and put my arms around her. Looking down into her closed eyes, I kissed her gently on the lips.
“You passed,” I whispered, then stepped away and quickly made my way out of the kitchen.
I passed by my father without looking at him and went straight to the bathroom to relieve myself. It didn’t take long. I kept imagining what could have happened if Dad hadn’t been home. Would she have let me pick her up and carry her to my bed? What was that she had said about Mr. J? Something about not showing Mrs. J the proper attention, and then remarking that it wasn’t uncommon. Was that the way it was between Mom and Dad? Was Mom not only jealous of her friend but horny too? Would she actually let me do her? I beat my dick faster.
Mom had a hot body. Now that I thought about it, I definitely wanted to fuck her. The thought would have grossed me out only days ago but now, holding her and sensing her loneliness, I wanted to make her feel good. I wanted to make love to her. I had fucked one of her friends and was close to getting another but I didn’t want to just fuck Mom. I wanted her badly, wanted her close to me, emotionally and sexually. In my mind, I strained to be close to her and felt every muscle in my body tensing with the effort.
“Oh fuck,” I cried, forgetting I wasn’t home alone. “Oh fuck,” I cried again, releasing a rocket load of sperm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I got in the shower after that to clean up but couldn’t make it without wanking myself off again. Images of Mom standing there, head back and eyes closed, letting me touch her body, overcame me. I wanted her so badly my skin hurt. I returned to my room and decided to get changed for bed. When I opened my drawer to get out the next day’s socks and underwear, I saw Mrs. Yamato’s black underwear. The thought of her started to make me stiff again. She had such a hot little body. Could I have her and love Mom too? Definitely, I thought, my cock getting harder at the thought of it, having both of them, maybe even together.
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