Tom’s life with mom is dull till he finds a pack of pantyhose

Before anyone could say anything more, Tom glimpsed the pattern flashing up his mother’s shin, and suddenly he was cumming, grunting and fucking hard into the dark pantyhose as the cream poured out of him in great hot gouts; his eyes rolled back in his head as the pleasure overtook him, brain washed clean by the white hot pleasure.

“Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!” The noises were dragged out of him by the plumes of semen that jetted around his fist. Amanda watched as her son’s body was wracked by orgasm, every finely-tuned muscle in his body standing out as he arched and humped and came. The last spurts of cum dribbled out of Tom’s fist, through the pantyhose and down his fist.

Panting and spent, he opened his eyes.

“Mom-” he croaked weakly, trying to formulate an explanation, an excuse, anything. Before he put another word together, she was gone.

Amanda’s head was spinning as she slid in and slammed the car door. What was that? What had she just witnessed? When had her son started doing *that*? When had her son grown such a big *cock*?

The tires screamed as she roared out of the driveway.

But there was no driving away from the heat smouldering between her thighs.

If yesterday had been spent going in and out of a daze, today Amanda was in there for a full eight hours. For starters, she’d picked that pencil skirt specifically because no matter what she did, how she moved, or walked, or sat, her nyloned thighs would rub together, and send that delicious thrill up through her, as her sensitized skin slid against the hose. Which is to say, the sizzle of gently pleased nerve endings followed her around all day long.

Secondly, any time her mind started to wander, Amanda’s imagination would begin conjuring up images of Tom, naked as the day he’d been born, fucking his fist into her discarded pantyhose, looking for all the world like a golden god seized at the peak of ecstasy, manhandling a rod which had looked as though it rivalled in size the big pink vibrating pussy pleaser one of her friends had gag-gifted her on the fifth anniversary of her divorce. She jokingly called it “Big Jim,” but Tom’s cock – the first live dick she’d laid eyes on in an embarrassingly long time, and far and away the biggest – was no joke. The uncomfortable knowledge of her son’s endowment made her squirm, which only added to the sizzle of pleasure radiating up through her lower body to the base of Amanda’s neck.

And that image launched a myriad of questions that battered against the inside of her skull all day: had he done that before? did he do that often? why pantyhose? why *her* pantyhose? why was it in his mouth? when did he become so *handsome*? why couldn’t she stop thinking about his cock, his abs, his lips (so pouty) gripping the hose so tight in his mouth? when was the last time she’d had a cock, any cock?

Luckily, Amanda was able to fob most of the day’s work off onto one of the interns working downstairs; he’d looked so cute and eager when she’d sat on her desk, crossed her legs, and offered him a chance to do some grownup work. What was his name? Chad? Brad? Something like that. Big brown eyes and charming smile and broad shouldered in his brand new suit.

Please wait…

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