“No, you’re my son,” she said, even though she didn’t move or protest as my hands slithered up her thigh.
“Mom, I’m eighteen; I’m an adult,” I reminded her, my hand only an inch from her pussy and even closer to her ass.
“I guess,” she sighed. After a pause, “Well, to tell the truth, your father was very demanding.”
“Like making you wear nylons?” I asked, digging for more.
“That’s one example,” she nodded, actually opening her legs ever so slightly, as if tempting me with the parting of the pink sea.
“What are some others?” I asked, still stroking her legs even though I was more than done with the lotion.
“It’s embarrassing,” she said. I sensed she wanted to tell me, but was struggling with her moral mother code.
“Is it that you’re submissive?” I asked, prodding her on.
“Excuse me?” Mom asked, startled, jerking her head around to look at me.
I shrugged, looking into her eyes, “Thin walls and thin flooring.”
“Oh my God!” she gasped, realizing my meaning.
“I heard you say that a lot,” I smiled, before adding, “accompanied by a lot of words I’ve never heard from you any other time.”
“You heard me?” she asked, processing the obvious.
I nodded, “Yeah, it was quite the turn on.”
“Cameron!” she said.
“What?” I asked. “I’m a guy, so hearing someone begging to be pounded, or ass reamed, is pretty hot.”
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” she repeated, laying her head back down in shame.
Oddly, she didn’t ask me to stop touching her. So I climbed back onto her, my constrained cock again resting on her ass, and began rubbing her shoulders as I said, “It’s okay, Mom, having sex is natural.”
“You must think I’m a slut,” Mom said.
“Mom, you had sex with your husband,” I clarified, reassuring her, flinching my cock with intent, “In truth, the mixture of prim and proper in public and submissive slut in the bedroom is every guy’s dream.”
“And where did you obtain that worldly view?” Mom asked, again looking at me… this time with a sultry look and voice.
“My plethora of sexual conquests,” I joked, again flinching my cock between her ass cheeks.
“How many is that?” she asked, not seeming to be fazed at all by the attention my cock was paying her.
“Ten fewer than ten,” I answered, finding a unique way to tell her I was a virgin.
“You’re a virgin?” she asked, almost as a gasp.
“Yeah, I don’t have the muscles and looks of my big brothers,” I answered, knowing that in high school, physical looks and athletic prowess always controlled the hierarchy.
Mom said, “Oh honey, you have something they don’t.”
“Yeah, but smarts don’t get the chicks,” I said, the conversation getting so real I was no longer focused on my cock between her ass cheeks but rather on my natural insecurity, especially in comparison to my jock brothers.
She shook her head in disagreement and said, “But chicks do go for smart guys with big dicks.”
I was shocked by Mom’s words, but I tried to be casual in my response even as I again let her know my cock was indeed not only big but also hard, “We rhymed.”
“I’m a poet and didn’t know it,” she joked.