1. Mom helps out


    Date: 12/5/2015, Categories: Fiction, Blowjob, Boy, Consensual Sex, Cum Swallowing, Erotica, First Time, Foot or shoe fetish, Incest, Male / Older Female, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Young, Author: Ren Dhark, Rating: 92.5, Source: sexstories.com

    knock!" "Oh, sorry hun, I didn't think." I was in a panic, not sure if the towel was covering the important bits - too scared to move, in case it opened more. Mom was wearing a simple dress, black with small blue and white flowers around the hem and neckline. I could just see the top of her breasts. The dress almost covered her knees; and she was wearing tan nylons, which ended in low heels, which exposed all her foot, except for a thin strap across the toes, and an even thinner one around her ankles. At which point I realised, I'd better look elsewhere! Mom sat on the bed next to me, but facing away. I didn't know, if I should be relieved or disappointed. On the one hand, I had hoped to get a peek up her dress. On the other hand, I was terrified, what that would do to the towel. I consoled myself, by staring at mom's knee - which I could just see - and imaging my hand stroking it. If I hadn't been so distracted, I would have noticed that something was on mom's mind. She doesn't usually make pointless chatter about things like school, my favourite music, and other stuff I barely heard. I tried to answer something intelligent at all the right places, but was more interested in imaging my hand sliding up mom's dress, and not finding any panties. So I am imagining away. And mom is babbling on. When she casually rests her hand on my thigh. It was like being electrocuted. This flash of - something - went right through me, and I flinched. Mom was still talking, and hadn't noticed. ...
    And her hand felt as if it was burning my thigh. I don't even know what I was saying. I'm sure, Timmy thought, his old mom had finally gone over the edge. And I guess, I have. I stormed into his room, like a Gestapo-raid. I knew that, if I stopped outside to gather my courage, I would never go in. As I stalked towards his bed, I couldn't bear to look at him. When I pictured this moment, I had intended to sit facing him, so he could look up my dress - or rather at my lack of undies. But now, I didn't have the nerve. I barely made it to the bed and sat down with my back towards him, trying to control my breathing and my shaking. It took all the nerve I had left, to put my hand on his thigh. And I nearly jumped up, when I felt Timmy flinch, as if I had hit him. Oh my god, I was abusing my own son - I had to leave - now! Mom's hand was still sitting on my thigh, no more than six or seven inches away from my pecker. My hardening pecker. Oh god - the towel is slipping! I was about to get up and leave, when I noticed that something had come alive underneath Timmy's towel, causing it to shift slightly. Without obviously bending down, I still couldn't see anything, but it was clear that he didn't find my hand on his thigh totally gross. Helplessly I lay there, as my hard-on made a very noticeable bulge underneath the towel, which was barely hanging on. Mom was still talking, but I had given up on answering, as the blood was rushing in my ears, and my throat had gone very dry. As she ...
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