Unspoken Pleasure

Mom spent some time preparing her breakfast at the kitchen island, cutting various fruits as her robe opened a little more, baring more of her breasts, but never as much as I hoped or feared. My heartbeat sped up with every flutter of her clothing, its thin silk sliding over her body, clinging here, gripping there, and rolling like waves with dips and rises as she continued with her task.

She never looked at me, only at Dad, and the one time his paper crinkled as he lowered it, Mom reached up with her left hand and pinched her robe shut. Dad didn’t look at her, he was sipping his coffee and had happened to tilt his paper forward, but when it had come down, Mom had covered up. It was at this time my cock, already warm and relaxed, decided to have its first stretch of the morning.

As Dad’s paper rose, Mom’s robe came open. She finished cutting her fruit for her breakfast and came to the table, sitting across from Dad with an assortment of bite-sized bananas, berries, citruses to nibble on with a side of yogurt for dipping.

She ate. Dad ate. I ate, only I had a view of the inside of Mom’s left breast, almost to her nipple. The soft swell of her chest mound made my mouth water for more than her French toast.

As I watched my mother, my cock tingled, and the head swelled, pushing the fabric of my boxer briefs and basketball shorts outward and upward. After teasing me, how did my mother think that I wasn’t going to run off to the one girl who had already guaranteed me some pussy? How could Mom hope to keep me at home when what I really wanted was–

The shock of an electric spark zapping my brain put a stop to my thoughts, and when they came back, a new question had entered my mind. How far was my mother willing to go to keep me from being sexual with Jenna for the next four years?

Did I want to know?

My mind stuttered, like an old film reel that had lost its tracking, and everything blurred. I didn’t know if I wanted to know, but my dick, the nasty mother fucker, who wanted to spread open the little lips between my girlfriend’s thighs, had no problem growing thick and hard and hell-bent on finding out.

I needed to get out of the kitchen, but I had a hard-on, so I sat there, eating with a slow, deliberate gait as I willed my fucking chubby friend down to half-mast. It wasn’t easy since I was sneaking glances at my mother’s tit while wishing her robe would move a hair more to the left. I wanted to see the shade of her areola and maybe the size of her nub.

The size of her nub–her fucking nipple!This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

I had been aware of her nipple–nipples–since the start of this, but it was her flesh that had stolen the attention of my eyes and other, darker thoughts had also kept my mind occupied, but I had been aware of my mother’s nipples. What had started as smooth silk against the jutting swell of her breasts had developed small rises in their surface–rises that had pushed the fabric outward in a pair of points. Growing and growing, they thickened and hardened, my imagination witnessing the tight swirling and contracting of her flesh, seeming to swell while stretching outward as the little cracks in her nipple flesh constricted.

Shit–my balls hurt.

As soon as the last bite of French toast entered my mouth, I pushed my chair back and turned in my father’s direction. He still had his newspaper raised. Who the fuck reads an entire newspaper? I’m glad he did because the left side of the paper kept his eyes away from my tented shorts. I should have slid from my chair in a half-crouch and slunk away with my back turned to my mother before standing, but I didn’t do that. I don’t know why, but instead, I pushed my chair back, and as I turned to my right, I stood, leaving no doubt about the effect my mother had on me. Even if she were looking forward, her peripherals wouldn’t have failed to notice the hard-on that she had raised.

I should have rushed upstairs to jerk off, but instead, I jumped onto the couch facing the TV, grabbed the remote, and looked for something to watch. I flipped through the channels, not paying attention, as I looked at the clock and waited for my father to leave the house. By the time he had left, my hard-on had gone down, but my leg had started to fidget.

Dad left just before eight in the morning, and I waited in the living room, unaware of what I expected or what Mom had planned. Jenna was always available after her half-day summer classes, and a little bit of teasing wasn’t going to keep me away from her. But would a whole lot keep me away from her? No. Mom’s teasing wouldn’t keep me away from Jenna, that’s for damn sure, so the question came to me again: How far was my mother willing to go to keep me away from Jenna for the next four years?

Get your shit together, I thought. Did Mom really want to do this? Had I driven her insane? No way, she was a rational woman–educated, composed, experienced, and…. Mom walked into the living, just beyond my couch, stopping in front of me, but off to the side.

“Hey,” I said, staring at her back and butt–mostly her butt–which her robe rested upon, with the cloth covering her center groove and dipping between her cheeks.

“Hey,” Mom said, not turning around. “I’m going to work for a little bit, but then I’m coming downstairs to do some housework.”

“Okay,” I said.

“It’s going to be hot today.” A tremor underscored Mom’s voice. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Jenna doesn’t get out of school until noon,” I said. “And her dad insists on picking her up now instead of me.”

“Good,” Mom said. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to clean, okay.”

“Okay.”

Mom turned, and when she did, her robe lay open from her neck to below her breasts, her inside swells and cleavage visible. Her perky handfuls left some open space between her breasts that made my mouth water and tongue dance. Mom paused for a moment, standing still long enough not to make things obvious before she left the living room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Fuck me, but this was unexpected and strange, and yet it filled me with a kind of nervous yet excited energy that I needed to release. I waited until I was sure that Mom was in her room before I raced upstairs to my room to relieve myself of this adrenaline-like burden with hard pumps of my cock.

Porno, stories, camgirls–I didn’t spend money on them–and other kinds of options presented themselves to me. I was ready to take them, but instead, I found myself searching Reddit for real-life stories about moms coming onto their sons, or vice versa. I was sure that every one of them was bullshit, but even if just one were true, then maybe I’d have an idea of how to handle this new side of Mom.