Pushing the sheet down more I felt my cock really harden as she revealed wearing her suspender belt and stockings showing off the delicious white of her upper thighs near her fast moving hand.
Getting out my cock I started to wank wishing I had my lubricant (I tended not to get much precum ever). Soon I was close. Suddenly Mum plunged her hand in her cunt deep to wet herself more and I could hear her murmuring.
“Yes, fuck its gorgeous, yes fuck him, oh god I wish I was fucking doing it. Yes, yes oh god I’m coming yes oh yes oh fuck yesssss.”
Just as she came I shot my load down her bedroom door and on the hall carpet without making a noise. Zipping up I left the flat as quietly as I had arrived even though I wanted at that moment to confront her and fuck her. I decided not to wait to see what she might do after her lovely cum. I needed a drink to take in what had just happened retiring to the pub, recognising some of the regulars who would have no doubt been delighted to have been in my place to have watched her.
Will she have seen the evidence on the door of my presence? I did wonder but hell I would just play it by ear when I went home. I also knew that she had chosen the incest, mum/son stories, the only ones I had printed off recently. No doubt about it. Yes she was getting off on my favourite stories as I often thought of her when reading them myself. The dirty fucker, she’s just like me and then I recalled her cum comment about wishing it was her. Then I knew it – she must be fantasying about me. I just wanted to believe it.
On my return home, I found her in the kitchen humming away happily with a glass of wine getting the supper ready. She cheerfully greeted me giving me a peck on the cheek. She was wearing a yellow blouse but I didn’t see the pronounced effect of a bra. Her tits did droop somewhat, but it didn’t prevent her nipples pressing against the blouse, though appearing not as stiff as this afternoon. Her skirt to just above her knees and stockings and low heels completed the picture.
“Good day son?”
“Yeh Mum, you too?”
“Fine thanks.”
After supper I changed into some loose elasticated trousers with no fly, a tea shirt and we carried on drinking, watching TV on the settee near each other and in good moods no doubt from the day!
“Can I put my feet up Ian?”
Not quite sure how she meant to do it, I replied, “Sure Mum, go ahead.”
To my surprise she kicked off her shoes and rested her stockinged feet on my lap.
“That’s better, thanks – hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all Mum.” We both continued to consume the wine and it felt very relaxed together.
“Do us a favour Ian, my feet are really tired from standing all day. Would you like to rub them a little for me?”
I had done this many years before with Dad around when I was about ten.
As I began on her small toes, stroking softly between them Mum recalled:
“Do you remember the last time you did this for me Ian with Dad and you both got a bit carried away? You saw a small hole and ladder in the ankle of my stocking and you stuck your finger in it and made it worse. I was slightly irritated but Dad just laughed, so you carried on pulling on the ladder. Dad joined in and began to pull the stockings to pieces. I think Dad and I had been drinking and I lost my irritation and smiled too as you both went to work ripping them apart.”
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