1. Tempted by Tanlines Pt.2


    Date: 10/22/2017, Categories: Fiction, Erotica, Incest, Mature, Author: Unknow user, Rating: 90.8, Source: sexstories.com

    while gurgling, "About it being inappropriate. You've always done it. I'm the one who's changed. Besides, I don't live here full-time. This is your home. If you want to walk around nude..." She pulls back to eye me with doubt. "But what about ... you know..." My mother gestures with her head. She nods towards my genitalia, inconspicuous but rampant under the sheet. "...your problem," she finishes. "It's my problem," I say, meaning it at the time. "I'll be fine," I assure her. "I promise." My mother nods slowly. She stares off into nothing again, perfectly still for a few beats before rousing herself. "Thank you," she smiles. "I'm so glad we can talk." "Me too," I reply, a little surprised when I realise my mother had been right. "I feel ... lighter," I tell her. "I'm glad," she says, leaning in. I'm stunned when her lips brush my cheek. The heat comes off her, my mother's scent lingering when she stands and nods down at me. "See," she says with a smile, "it was worth me coming in and forcing a talk, wasn't it?" It was and it wasn't. When she leaves me lying there I'm already wondering why I let on it was all right for her to carry on in the nude. My newfound resolve has evaporated already. My mother pauses near the door and turns to waggle her fingers at me, cheeks dimpled with an ebullient smile. "Night," she says. The door clicks shut and I recall what she said: I do it too, you know. It had never occurred to me my mother might be a few yards away, in her own bed, fingers ...
    sloshing around her vulva as she masturbated herself to a climax. The heat envelops me. Lust bursts afresh and I throw back the sheet and work at my dick, my head full of my mother with a thick dildo wedged in her cunt. ### When I walk into the kitchen she looks at me and asks, "Is this okay?" I nod and say, "Yes," although the word sounds more croaky than I would have liked. She notices the catch in my voice and her eyes narrow. "You sure?" It doesn't help when her breasts sway as she stands, but I nod again. "I can put some clothes on," she says, and I can tell she's doubtful about my sincerity. I hold up a palm to stop her from going. Then close my eyes and say, "No. Really. I meant what I said. I can deal with it, Mum." She's dubious. It's all over her face. My mother hesitates and continues to observe for a few seconds longer. But, eventually, she sits back down at the table. "How did you sleep?" she asks as I go to the counter. The truth is I didn't sleep much; my head was filled with my mother. "So-so," I tell her, taking bread from the bin. It isn't an outright lie, just hedging it a bit. After what she told me last night, I don't want to deceive her. The toaster does its thing and I pour tea from the pot. The milk goes in and I carry the lot to the table, then pull out a chair at the opposite end from my mother. Spreading butter onto the toast I causally ask, "What about you?" She regards me from over the rim of a Kath Kidston mug. "How did I sleep?" I nod and force ...
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