Unspoken Pleasure

Mom stared at the picture. She stared and stared, then she closed the window and shook her head. I stood, slipping my hand from her between her legs. Dampness coated my skin, more so on the side that had been deepest between my mother’s legs. My cock stood straight out from my shorts. I looked to Dad, and from my higher angle, I could see that he had his eyelids closed. Opportunity missed. Before I could step away, Mom tugged on the leg of my shorts. She tugged hard, and after a second tug, I sat down next to her. Mom sighed, and she spread her legs open… for me.

As I sat, Mom turned my tablet back on. This time she wrote, Do not masturbate in front of me.

Under my shorts? I asked.

Mom tilted her head to the right, her eyes rolling in the same direction. I palmed my knob with my left hand, pushing down on my head. A buzzing, pleasure-filled cloud swirled around my glans before shooting straight down my shaft, forcing my ass to tighten and my hips to rise. Mom turned the tablet off and placed it on the end table next to her. She faced forward, her eyes on the TV, then looking at Dad, who seemed to be sleeping, and then back at the TV, waiting for me to do to her whatever I dared to do to her.

We didn’t set any other boundaries, I thought. What was Mom going to do if I went too far? Yell for Dad? Run upstairs, where we could be alone? Holy shit, my thoughts were getting dark.

The moment was mine, and yet, my hand moved slowly toward her thigh. I had freedom now, and I moved with a slow, persistent pressure as if giving my mother a chance to back out. Or maybe I wanted to savor this. Maybe I was savoring this and giving my mother a chance to back out. I didn’t know, but now that Mom had called my bluff, an entirely new expectation had fallen upon me. I had to perform. I had only ever touched Jenna. There had been plenty of finger-banging and pussy-eating between us, but what did my inexperience really know about Jenna’s body or how to please a woman?

A real woman.

My mom?

My heartbeat thickened in my chest. Dampness chilled my palm as my pulse beat against the center of my hand. I had to perform. I had to. Performing was the only way that I was going to make my mother want my touch, instead of having to endure my touch.

I pressed my palm against my mother’s thigh. Her skin seared me. My fingers pointed inward, wrapping around her limb to caress the inner meat between her legs. She had parted her thighs, and I had a narrowing V-shaped window running toward the beautiful, sun-kissed cunny that marked the prettiest portion of a woman’s body.

I squeezed her thigh. Mom said nothing. I squeezed her thigh again, pulsing my digits against her limb, my rhythm slow and tender. My left palm rolled over my knob, my hips humping upward as pleasure shot through me. Would Mom touch me if I asked?

Don’t push it, I thought. We’ve rushed this enough. Tonight is about showing her what we can do.

I slid my hand toward my mother’s knee. She looked at Dad as I caressed her smooth skin. I stroked my cock faster through my shorts, keeping my fingers around the neck of my shaft and rowing my thumb over the head. Several trembling breaths left my lungs, and Mom angled her head in my direction enough that she had to be able to see me stroking my stiffy.

This was madness.

I slid my hand down her thigh, pushing inward so that my fingertips brushed the cushion between her legs, my palm resting against her skin. Down I went. Mom shivered once I passed the middle of her thigh. A warm cloud of mist seemed to greet the side of my hand closest to her muff, dampening my flesh and urging my little finger to stretch outward as far as possible, stopping less than an inch from her satin-covered crotch.

A blurred, wobbling lightness hammered the inside of my skull. I moved back up Mom’s thighs, and she breathed easier. I moved back down, and her next inhale turned heavy. I glanced at the front of her shirt, where her rock-hard nipples poked at the fabric, threatening to rip through the threads. They stuck outward, thick and hard, like Jennifer Anniston’s nipples on nearly every episode of Friends.

I moved lower than before, forcing Mom to spread her legs further apart as my knuckles grazed the inner meat of her right thigh. She wiggled her butt, but she had nowhere to run. My pinky extended again, riding her damp flesh and teasing the leghole of her boyshorts. Her left hand twitched, so I pulled my hand up her leg and caressed the middle of her thigh, squeezing and feeling the smooth firmness of my mother’s skin.

I continued stroking my cock and working the precum from my balls. Each spurt of crystal-clear jizz reminded my cock that there was soft treasure between my mother’s thighs. I had come from those folds, saying hello to the world by spreading her open, and now I wanted to go back and spread her open again, but instead of emptying her pink channel of life, I wanted to fill it with my own once more.

My balls shivered, and I almost came to my sick, perverse, and cock-hardening desires. I was going to have my mother one day; before the end of this, and maybe, one day, Jenna and her both.

At the same time, my cock said as a jolt of pleasure pushed a moan from my lips.

“Shhhhh,” Mom hissed, moving her right arm from the armrest and slapping my hand between her legs.

Something about that movement reminded me of the girls in porn, spanking their hairless beavers before their costars punched their cocks into their pussies. I had to bite back another moan, but as I did, I opened my little finger as far as I could and entered the leghole of Mom’s shorts, touching the crease where her outer pussy lip met the inside of her thigh.

Mom answered my touch with a sharp inhale of breath. She looked down. The hand that had slapped mine now rested on my forearm. She tried to push me back up her thigh, but I held firm, staring down between her legs and shaking my head.

Mom pushed again on my arm.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

I shook my head harder.

Mom’s thighs started to close. I didn’t mind, she’d only trap me between them, but as her legs clamped down on my hand, I brushed my little finger against the side of my mother’s warm pussy bulge. A silk-like mesh greeted my digit, but my fingertip caught the leg band of her panties and pushed under the nylon, touching skin so hot that I was surprised my finger didn’t melt.

She’s so fucking wet, I thought as my little finger pushed the moisture covering her mound across her skin, following the edge of her panty line.

Mom pushed harder on my wrist. I turned my head toward Dad with a sharp twist of my chin. Mom’s hand froze as she looked at Dad. I pushed hard between her thighs, my ring finger colliding with the pillow-like softness at the center of her muff and my little finger slipping into the crux of her thigh.

Dad didn’t move, continuing to breathe with the mellow tempo of a man who was sound asleep. I stroked my cock harder. Could I get away with this while he was awake? He couldn’t see us from where he was. My heartbeat hammered against the inside my chest, and my feet tingled as I thought of my father watching TV while I felt up his wife on the couch behind him.