Unspoken Pleasure

“Hurry up,” Mom whispered, her voice catching as I pressed the tips of my thumbs against the bottom of her ass cheeks. I followed the line of her hamstrings from the outside in, all the way to the inward curve down into the softness of her maternal muff. “Do my legs. Now.”

I stopped with my thumbs outside of her pussy. They were so damn near the nylon of her panties that my fingers trembled from the heat between her legs. As I pulled them away, I pressed my thumbs harder into her tender flesh and pulled outward, spreading her open between her legs like the velvet curtains of a Broadway stage. Mom’s pussy pulled outward, her outer lips slipping past the protection of her thong’s covering and giving me a glimpse of her softer, fuller crescents.

“Mm,” Mom moaned, the sound strained as she bit back the quiet, almost nonexistent sound.

I stopped my thumbs’ movement, holding my mother’s pussy open from the outside pressure on her inner thighs. Staring at the center of her cunny beneath her panties, I watched as her crimson nylon stuck to her lips, outlining the long slit beneath their fabric. I saw her folds, outer and inner, and the opening between them, where the red of her panties had darkened, growing wetter and–

Holy fuck, my mother was wet with pussy juice.

“I need to go back to work,” Mom said, her words coming in a rush that was almost a pant. She pulled away from me, holding her right hand over her breasts as she stood, facing away from me. “I expect you to stay at home while I work.”

Her voice had trembled as she spoke, though it carried it a hard edge, the edge that I was used to hearing whenever I managed to get myself into trouble.

“Okay,” I said.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

Mom walked away, leaving me with my hard-on, and when I was sure she was in her office–with windows that faced the backyard–I took out my cock and jerked off hard and fast in full view of her windows. I sprayed my cum onto my stomach before wiping it off with my towel. Satisfied, I jumped back into the pool to cool down.

Had Mom watched me?

I hoped so.

****An Agreement***

I didn’t see my mother again until after Dad had arrived home. She had changed from her bikini into a pleated white tennis skirt that barely reached the middle of her thighs. A tight, dark blue polo shirt with white trim and short-short sleeves covered her upper body. We didn’t talk, and Mom made dinner, and we ate, her tits pushing against her top like two perky orbs outlined by the faintest impressions of a bra. It must have been a thin bra, maybe lace or something transparent, I didn’t know, but my mind spent most of its time thinking about what kind of bra she could be wearing.

Jenna had some transparent bras that she liked to wear for me.

Dad said nothing about Mom’s outfit. He was too busy mumbling, “My sleepless nights are getting worse. Can you believe that? They just won’t go away anymore.”

My dad, as far as I knew, had bouts of acute insomnia, typically lasting for several weeks, then they’d dissipate for several weeks, then they’d come back in an endless cycle of hell for him. When he mentioned this, I saw my mother’s face tighten, but my heartbeat sped up. Had the same thoughts gone through our heads at the same time? I didn’t know, but I’d like to think that they did. Despite her reaction, I was eager for my father to start taking his pills again.

Even though Mom was wearing a short tennis skirt that showed off her slender legs down to her little, bare feet with their perfect toes and elegant arches, it wasn’t like this morning and afternoon. Dad was here, so when Mom noticed me looking for a little too long or a little too hard, she narrowed her eyes at me and sent a firm headshake–with only the slightest hints of movement–my way.

Not long after dinner, I went upstairs, saying, “I need to give Jenna a call before she thinks I’m ignoring her.”

Mom, who had been reading a book on the couch while Dad watched TV, looked up at me as I headed upstairs and called out, “Remember our deal.”

Our unspoken deal, I thought just as my father said, “Yeah, remember it. I don’t want to have to explain to my mother why her grandson had to drop out of high school to take care of his bastard.”

“Jesus, Dad,” I said as my dad laughed, and I continued upstairs.

I talked to Jenna, but I was distracted. She could tell. I knew that she could, but I couldn’t tell her why. My thoughts kept drifting back to my mother and the promise I had made her. Did I really make her a promise? Do unspoken promises count? I didn’t think–so my cock said to me–but Jenna would be there for me in a week, while Mom might end her desperation tactic if she thought I wasn’t keeping my word.

“Come on,” Jenna was saying, “tell me how hard your cock is for me.”

“I can’t,” I said, licking my lips and continuing the lie I had told her at the start of our conversation. “Mom keeps walking into my room.”

“Fuck it,” Jenna growled, “let her hear how hard I make your cock. I’ll let my dad hear if you let your mom hear.” She made a tongue-clicking sound. “Every time that my dad thinks that I’m being naughty with you, he gives me this look, and I just want to say, ‘Mark makes my pussy wet, Daddy, deal with it.”

“Daddy,” I said, laughing.

“Well, Dad’s my father,” Jenna said, “but you’re my Daddy.”

“Oh,” I moan-groaned. “That’s so fucking hot.”

“I know, right?” Jenna giggled. “The dirtier this gets, the jucier my pussy gets for your big, adult dick. Maybe my dad’s just jealous of you getting my ass instead of….”

I groaned again as she trailed off, her voice slick, sly, and dangerously suggestive. My cock grew and grew. Maybe it was for the best if I put an end to Mom’s teasing and went straight to Jenna. Why should we torture ourselves by waiting? We could fuck, tell her dad, and call his bluff. It had to be a bluff. Jenna’s mom loved me!

“I’ve got to go, you nasty girl,” I whispered. “I can hear my mom outside of my door. I think she’s pacing. I’ll send you a picture later, okay?”

“Okay,” Jenna sighed. “Our parents suck.”

“Yes, they do,” I whispered, hoping it was true in my mother’s case.

“Love you,” Jenna said, “and don’t forget that dick pick you owe me. I want to see cum and lots of it.”

“I promise,” I whispered as her bratty voice sent a tingle through my glans. “Love you too.”

Would she be mad when I didn’t send her a picture?

Probably, but I’d think of something.

I left my phone on my bed as I headed downstairs. I had talked to Jenna for an hour; what would Mom make of that? Was she antsy? Was she pissed? Should I pretend that something happened, even when it hadn’t? There was danger in that; wasn’t there, but how much?