by alwayswantedto

I pulled my flannel pajama bottoms up until they were snug against my balls which were already tightening underneath my stiffening dick.

'Stop thinking about her,' I commanded myself.

But it was no use. My disobedient member, gorging in blood, surged upward, creating a mini circus tent that I had to cover with a magazine as I tread down the hall.

Neither Mom nor Dad looked up as I descended the stairs. Dad was reading the Economist, sparing periodic glances for the documentary playing on TV.

Mom was also reading a magazine resting on her left leg which was crossed over the right, her nyloned foot tapping slowly to a tune that could only be heard in her head.

Quietly, so as not to disturb my parents, I sat on the free end of the couch, positioning my back to the arm and planting both bare feet on the cushion so I could peer over my own magazine to watch my mother. She was toying with a lock of her dark, full-bodied hair, a habit she had practiced for as long as I could remember whenever she was concentrating. My gaze dropped from her pretty face and came to rest on her prominent chest, heaving slightly against the flowery blouse in time with her tapping foot, her arm thankfully pulled back so I had a clear view of her breasts.

Was she angry with me again?

* * * * * * *
Mom had been angry with me a lot over the past few weeks, with good reason. I had grown a lot during the last year. Not taller, but I had filled out quite a bit, though I still wasn't as big as my father. That was why I had been so shocked when I'd seen how small his dick was. Dad had invited me to join him and his friends at a local pub. He was still in the john when I came in to take a leak, standing at the urinal next to his. He was just finishing and I saw his thing. I hadn't seen it since I was a kid and he showed me how to take a nature pee. It had seemed huge to me then. My shock was followed by a surge of pride in myself and then a feeling of compassion. I fumbled about, not wanting to show Dad up by pulling out my own stick.

"Don't be shy," Dad laughed. "I'm sure you have nothing to be ashamed of."

He slapped me on the back as he turned toward the sinks. I was still fumbling about when he dried his hands and went out the door, still laughing.

If I'd just forgotten about it, everything would have been fine. But I couldn't. The memory of Dad laughing kept resurfacing in my head. It bugged me. I should have shown him, I thought. That would have shut him up. Let him see what a real piece of meat looked like, at least, compared to his. How had he kept a looker like my mom with that ridiculous little pecker?

And that's what started it. I began looking at Mom. She really was quite good looking with a nice body for her age. Dad was a handsome man, a nice guy and well educated, but surely she must have wanted more in the downstairs department. Maybe she didn't find out until after they were married and it was too late. Did they not do it before they got hitched?

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to show her mine. Every time, I reprimanded myself. How ludicrous. Did I think I was living in the theater of the absurd? Did I think her reaction would be anything other than outrage. Get a grip. But each time, my admonition was less severe until finally, a gentle chiding was the order of the day.

I got hard every time I imagined myself displaying my wares to Mom. I created many scenarios in my mind, some believable, lots more ridiculously unreal.

Some were accidental, others deliberate. I started with the inadvertent episodes but gravitated to the purposeful exposures, quickly finding a need to relieve myself by jacking off into the toilet, eyes closed so I could imagine the reluctant pleasure that Mom inevitably derived from looking at a real cock.

I never imagined her actually touching it, there wasn't time. I always came when her face changed from shock to desire and she reached out to take hold of me.

So that should have been the end of it, right? Eventually, I should have tired and moved on to fresh ideas to feed my masturbatory fantasies.

Nope. Not this kid. I wasn't as smart as my dad. I allowed my hallucinations to meet reality. I started wandering around the house in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt as soon as I got home from school to draw Mom's attention to my better-endowed groin. While trying to feign intense interest in whatever I was watching on TV or reading, I was nevertheless extremely sensitive to any tiny indication that Mom was actually taking notice.

I convinced myself that she was. I was certain of it from the way she avoided looking down there, from that time she stopped what she was saying just as she turned to look my way, and the sudden blushes on two other occasions. I was sure my mother was aware of my cock!

One night, sitting at the end of the couch, I wore a loose-fitting pair of shorts and arranged myself so Mom couldn't help but see my guy peeking out the leg if she looked my way. But she didn't. Refusing to be deterred, I held out my magazine and called Mom's attention to a passage, holding it low so her eyes would be pulled down along a line of sight that led straight to the exposed head of my dick.

She couldn't hide it. I definitely saw her eyes stray. She looked!

Even better, after jerking her eyes back to the magazine, she became flustered, her voice faltering for a moment while her eyes tried to focus on the passage I was marking with my finger. But it was the second peek that did it. Later, I tried to show her another article but Mom refused, waving me away.

"I'm reading my own magazine," she said, testily.

By then, I needed to keep the magazine down anyway, to hide my huge boner. A few minutes after that, I slunk upstairs and yanked my cock mercilessly until it exploded all over the toilet, leaving me with a big cleaning job.

Mom was mad the next morning at breakfast. I dallied over breakfast, turning my chair at a 45 degree angle to face the center of the kitchen, leaning back with my legs open so my pajamas stretched tightly over my genitals. Though she tried not to, Mom looked a couple of times, right after Dad flipped the newspaper to a fresh page and pulled it close to his face to read it more easily. She was quick, but couldn't escape my careful observation, seeming more stiff and angry after each glance.

Mom left the kitchen and went downstairs to do the laundry. I followed a few minutes later. She had just started a load in the washer and was emptying the dryer when I arrived. I admired the way her bottom filled the thin material of the house dress she wore, tight enough to show the lines of her panties, until she stood and faced me, one hand on her hip.

"What do you want?" her stern voice, despite everything, still surprising me.

"I was just wondering if you could wash my pajamas," I answered coolly, looking down to indicate that something had spilled on them.

Mom followed my eyes down, to the orange juice that slicked the pajamas over my swollen cock which pushed the dry material out away from my legs.

Mom looked longer than was necessary and that excited me. I could tell she knew she had looked too long and that I was aware of it. She bent down to load the dryer with freshly washed clothes. My eyes returned to her ass.

"Bring them down and put them in that pile," Mom barked, pointing at a pile of colored clothes on the floor in front of the washer.

That's when I did the unthinkable. I quickly dropped my pajamas and stepped out of them, letting them fall onto the indicated pile. As soon as the pajamas hit the ground, time seemed to move very slowly. I stood there in my t-shirt, bare, half-stiff cock dangling in the air. Mom stopped moving, then her head turned slightly to look at the pile, pausing for a long time as she struggled to comprehend the presence of my pajama bottoms. Slowly, her eyes and head turned up, following my now bare legs until she was looking straight at my swaying cock, as if she had to confirm that I had really taken my pajamas off. My cock tingled and straightened when I saw her eyes widen.

The world suddenly exploded back into real time. The washer stopped filling and kicked into its first wash cycle just as Mom jerked to her feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

"You said to put them in that pile," I replied in an incredibly calm voice, though I felt anything but serene.

"I didn't mean now," Mom almost yelled.

I looked blankly at her as if I didn't understand what the fuss was all about.

"Alright, this has got to stop," she said, confirming my suspicion that she knew what I was up to and had been looking. "Do you want me to call your father down here?"

I shrugged, calling her bluff.

"Put your pajamas back on or I'll call him right now."

Mom jabbed her hand at the floor to emphasize her point but the back of her hand inadvertently scraped the side of my now hard cock. She looked down in shock, then quickly jerked her hand away. She started to go around me but I stepped back and blocked the doorway.

"But they're dirty," I said.

"Then put something clean on."

I looked at the basket of clean laundry, managing to convey that this was a task beyond my capabilities. Exasperated, Mom dug through the basket and found another pair of my pajamas which she held out to me. I took them and stooped to slip my feet through each leg, then slowly straightened, pulling the pajamas up with me. I stopped when the waistband scraped over my balls and pressed against the bottom of my cock, kicking it into a series of dampening bounces.

Mom was looking directly at it. She must have been watching it all along. She still was.

"I don't mind if you look at it, Mom," I spoke softly. "I know it's nicer than Dad's."

Mom nodded, then looked at me.

"What are you trying to do Brent? What are you up to?"

"I just want you to look, that's all."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just do," I said.

Mom looked as if she understood that somehow.

"Put it away now and let me by," she said.

"I'll let you go if you put it away," I countered, astounded by my precocious response.

Mom sighed, then grabbed my pajamas and pulled them up, the waistband snapping around from under my balls and squeezing my tool against my belly. She was careful not to let her hands contact my skin. Mom stepped back and looked up at me, waiting for me to get out of the way.

I looked down. The whole head of my cock was sticking out of my pajamas.

"Is that the best you can do?" I asked.

Mom looked down at me.

"Yes," she replied in a quiet voice.

"OK," I said, stepping aside to let her by.
After that, I seemed to have tacit permission to display myself when Dad wasn't around, at least, not in the same room. Mom changed her tactic from pretending not to see to ignoring me as best she could but when she did look, acting as if it was no big deal and I should hurry up and get over it.

But I was immune to any cure. The following Saturday, after a week of clandestine exposures, I waited until Dad left the kitchen. As soon as I heard him going up the stairs, I pushed my pajamas down to free my hard cock, smiling at Mom, hardly able to wait for her to see. She finally looked, though I was sure she knew the second I let loose.

"For crying out loud, Brent. When are you going to get over this?"

"Over what," I laughed, rotating my hips on the chair to make my hard on sway around.

Mom laughed back, surprising me. She actually laughed.

"That," she cried, pointing at my wobbling pole.

"Never," I answered. "I always want you to be able to see a big one."

Mom's face went red.

"You'd better put that away before your father comes down."

"Why?" I asked. "I don't care if he sees it," I bluffed. I knew my father could take me in a minute.

"Just put it away."

I shook my head.

"I'm not doing it for you," Mom insisted, referring to the laundry room episode.

"Ill put it away if you show me your legs," I bargained.

"Show you my legs? You can see my legs."

Mom grabbed the knee-length skirt of her dress and ruffled it over her thighs.
"I mean higher up." My voice was suddenly hoarse.

"Higher up?"

"Yeah," I croaked. "Higher up. Lift your dress so I can see past your knees."

Mom stared at me. Until now, this had been all about me. The scene felt like that one in the laundry room when I had first tossed my pajamas to the floor and she had turned her head to look. We were in the midst of another watershed moment.

Mom stood still, one hand still holding a handful of her dress. I stared at her. My cock had wobbled to a standstill. Mom's eyes dropped from my face to my cock. Her hand moved. Not the one holding the dress. The other one. It fell to her side, then slowly began gathering material.

There was a long pause.

'Please don't come down now,' I tried to force a mental command upstairs into my father's brain. 'Don't ruin it.'

Mom's hands moved. Upward. So slowly. Revealing her legs, not yet tanned by the spring sun. She stopped when her thighs just started to thicken and, even at this distance, I imagined I could see tiny blondish hairs bent over the tender skin there.

"Higher," I croaked, my voice climbing an octave and ending in a squeak.

Incredibly, Mom's dress resumed its rise. An inch higher. I grasped my tool with my right hand. Another inch. I stroked myself, eyes glued on Mom's bare thighs, the dress stretched across them just below where her panties must be.

"All the way," I gasped, my hand slowly sliding up and down my cock, Mom's eyes following.

Higher. Mom's panties came into view. They were all puffed up, forming a mound with a slack line in the middle where the panties rounded and disappeared between her legs.

Her pussy !

My hand moved faster. Mom's head was bobbing up and down, following my hand. Christ, I was going to cum already!

I struggled to my feet, still pulling my wire, and stumbled toward Mom, trying to get past her to the sink but I didn't make it. A rope of cum burst from my wagging boner and shot onto Mom's thighs before her dress dropped to catch it instead. Another wad of cum spurted from my roaring cock but this one landed on the apron covering the front of Mom's dress. I bent my knees, throwing my arm around Mom's waist to hold her as I crouched before her, jacking off into her apron, her hands lifting the apron up to enclose my squirting, throbbing member. I groaned until the last gob shuddered out.

"Oh god. Mom. I'm sorry." I gasped.

"It's OK. It's over." Mom's hands were moving the apron around, cleaning me.

"You're so beautiful. I couldn't help it," I cried.

"Shhhhh. There, there." Mom's apron was moving back and forth, enclosed in her gentle hands.

Steps! I could hear steps on the stairs.

Mom jerked back, crouching like I was, the apron held before her, full of my cum. She whirled around and ran to the basement stairs, disappearing through the open doorway. I spun around the other way, yanking my pajamas up and just managing to twist my chair to the table to hide my still hard cock before Dad cruised into the kitchen.

"Still eating breakfast?" he asked.
I nodded, looking down.

"Still not dressed?"

I shook my head but he wasn't looking. He was pouring himself a mug of coffee.
"It's a crime to waste a day like this," he said.

Mom came up from the basement carrying a basket of laundry. I could hear the washer filling downstairs.

"Are you going to take your coffee outside?" she asked Dad, walking behind him but turning to face him with the basket in front of her, standing between him and me.

Dad turned around to face Mom, leaning back against the counter, raising his mug to take a sip of coffee.

"Yup. Going to join me?"

"Sure. I'll just take this upstairs," Mom nodded her head at the basket.

Mom's dress was hitched up a bit in the back, dragged above her knees by the basket. A white stream of my cum was trickling down the inside of her right thigh. My eyes widened in horror as Mom turned away from Dad and walked by me, carrying the laundry upstairs. Dad watched Mom go, taking another sip of coffee. I couldn't see how he could miss the white string clinging to the inside of her right knee. It was all I could see as I had watched her leave.

* * * * * * *
So, back to where I was.
It was Saturday night, early, yet here I was in my pajamas again, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Mom. Dad was lying on his back on the other couch stretched perpendicular to ours along the next wall, reading and watching TV.

Was she angry about what happened this morning? I hadn't been able to get her alone all day to ask. Was her foot tapping in an angry rhythm?

I didn't think so. It slowed as I watched but didn't stop. Her foot was mesmerizing and I couldn't imagine it moving in a more seductive way. Suddenly, Mom pulled her right leg back, dragging it onto the couch, her left foot dropping to the floor to provide the leverage for her action. The magazine Mom was reading slid into the middle of her lap, keeping her loose skirt from riding up on her legs, demurely protecting her private parts lest her widening legs expose them.

Mom pushed the magazine up onto her right knee and leaned my way.

"Look at this, Brent," she pointed her finger at a picture.

I craned my neck to look at the magazine.
"Come look," Mom said.

I pulled my feet close to cross my legs, lifting my weight and shifting my butt closer to Mom, so close that I had to raise my knees above Mom's leg. I looked down at the magazine to where she was pointing.

"Look," she repeated.

I couldn't figure out what it was she was trying to show me. She was now pointing to some text on the far page rather than the picture she originally indicated.

"What?" I asked quietly, so as not to disturb my dad.

"This," Mom's voice lowered in concert with mine.

Her hand, the one closest to me that wasn't holding the magazine, moved back where it was resting on her thigh, dragging Mom's skirt with it. All my senses were suddenly on full alert.

"Oh," I said, leaning over, trying to look under the magazine that covered most of the leg Mom had just bared.

Mom changed hands. Now it was the left pulling her skirt higher. Everything that wasn't already stirring under my pajamas began to move. This was so incredibly sexy yet I could barely see anything more than I could a moment ago. The magazine, spread open over Mom's lap, still covered her now bare and parted thighs.

The sides of the skirt were now very high indeed, almost up in line with Mom's crotch. I could see all of the outside of Mom's right thigh, but nothing between her legs. Still, I was now throbbing against my pajamas.

"Did you look at this part?" Mom asked, lifting the top of the magazine up and toward me.

I leaned to the right so I could see under the magazine. Mom's thighs were wide apart. Her nylons ended just where her legs thickened in a wide band of layered nylon. Soft, tender, creamy thigh bulged out of each legging in an unblemished expanse until it crashed into lacy, black panties that covered, but couldn't completely hide, the treasure underneath.
I could see her pubes and the hint of hair above.

"What do you think of that?" Mom asked, as if she was discussing an ordinary magazine article.

I was at a loss for words.

"Hmmmm?" Mom prodded.

"Incredible," I replied at last. "It's hard to believe," I said.

"Isn't it, though," Mom smiled.

"Here," she suddenly twisted around to face me straight on, dropping her magazine and pulling her skirt back to her knees. "Show me what you're reading."

I turned my magazine around so Mom could look at it, disappointed that she had pulled her skirt down but pleased that her back was toward Dad and her knees were now facing me, resting on my own, wide apart.

"Can I look at yours?" I asked.

"Help yourself," Mom replied.

I reached under my magazine which Mom was holding in front of her and grabbed Mom's, twisting it around to face me. I pulled it toward me so I could see it under mine, until it slid off Mom's skirt, and fell onto her crossed calves. I let it go, allowing it to rest on her legs and mine, using my now free hands to hook Mom's hem with my thumbs and push her skirt higher on her thighs. The looseness of her skirt allowed me to push the middle of it almost up to her panties without dragging the sides back on the outside her legs, helped by Mom's hand resting firmly on her left thigh, the one closest to Dad.

I could now look directly down on Mom's open thighs, her lacy panties in clear view, and appear to be reading. I immediately noticed that the wider angle of Mom's legs caused the gash in the front of her panties to appear more pronounced.

I ventured forth with one hand, exploring the inner thigh of Mom's left leg, then shifting to enjoy the right when she didn't object. Unable to contain myself, not sufficiently cool to take it slow, I pushed my hand toward her panties but hers appeared out of nowhere to block me. Mom shook her head.

For a while, I contented myself stroking Mom's thighs before I realized that I had something she was interested in too. Under the cover of the magazine, I pulled the waistband of my pajamas over my cock and tucked it under my balls. Leaning forward, I pushed my cock down onto the nylon covering Mom's calves.

Mom quickly looked around the magazine at the bare cock lying across her legs, jerked a fast look at Dad, then returned her gaze. I held my magazine so only she and I could see what I was doing. I moved my hips, sawing my cock across her nylons. Mom shook her head.

'Yes,' I mouthed, nodding. I kept moving my hips.

Mom frowned, glancing back at Dad. She put her hand down to stop me, not realizing until too late what she had done. She was holding my cock. This time, it wasn't covered by an apron. We were skin to skin. Her delicate fingers felt wonderful and then fantastic as they curled around my shaft. I pushed, fucking the hole she had created in her hand. Mom's mouth dropped open, aghast, but she didn't pull her hand away.

I slid my hand up Mom's leg again and, this time, she didn't stop me. Pushing my fingers flat over her lacy mound, I stretched my thumb down, searching for and finding the cause of that gash, digging my thumb into its depths as far as the panties would allow.

A commercial brought us suddenly to our senses, both pulling back. It didn't matter, Dad kept his nose buried in the Economist, but we both knew things had been about to get out of hand. If Mom had kept holding my cock, I would have tried to fuck her right there on the couch, Dad or no Dad.

I jerked my head at the kitchen. Mom shook her head. I jerked it towards the stairs and she shook it again. I knew I couldn't stay there, so I pulled my pajamas up and, magazine covering my front as best I could, limped into the kitchen.

"What's the matter with Brent?" I heard Dad asking Mom. "Did he hurt himself?"

"Why?" Mom asked.

"He's limping," Dad replied. It sounded as if he was getting up. I panicked. How could I explain this raging boner?

"No, you stay there." There was a lot of paper rustling, then, "I'll look after him."

Footsteps padded across the carpet, then Mom appeared in the doorway. She leaned back in to look at Dad. "He must have gone downstairs. I'll make sure he's alright." Mom's hand, inside the doorway, was waving me downstairs where I imagine she was going to give me a piece of her mind. I went.

I turned to watch Mom come down the stairs, loving the look of her legs, trying to look up her skirt at those lacy panties without success. Mom shooed me back, her flapping hand urging me into the laundry room. She followed.

"Did you actually hurt yourself?" Mom asked, leaning to the side to look down my legs and at my feet for some reason for me to be limping.

I didn't answer. Instead, I grabbed both of her hanging tits and squeezed them hard enough to feel her nipples poking through her bra.

"Brent!" Mom gasped. "Stop that."

I kept mauling Mom's tits.

"Don't. ... Not here," her voice was almost as raspy as mine.

I held her tits up and, with a final pass over their tips with my thumbs, relented, allowing them to drop free and watching them bounce to a standstill. Mom was breathing hard.

"Brent, that was crazy."

I reached down under Mom's skirt with my right hand and pulled it up until I was cupping those lacy, black panties. I rubbed her pussy through her panties and tugged her head back with a handful of hair. I kissed her open mouth and, while my tongue started sliding inside, let go of her hair to guide her right hand onto my hard cock, pressing it against my pajamas.

Mom moaned into my mouth, so I shoved her hand inside my pajamas and let it go. Immediately, she took hold of my proud member, fingers wrapping lovingly around it. My right hand pushed down, dragging those skimpy panties away from her now wet pussy, far enough for me to get my hand directly on her and slip a couple of fingers into her cunt.

Mom's head started shaking but I raised my hand to keep her mouth on mine and started frigging her pussy. She didn't let go of my cock, so I knew she wasn't going to stop me, no matter how much she shook her head. I kept fingering her and when the kiss broke, I scraped clean laundry from the top of the dryer onto the floor, knelt down in front of Mom, and tugged her panties down her legs.

Mom didn't struggle until the panties were clearing her foot. I slid my hands behind her thighs and clutched her legs, cruelly gripping her flesh, opening her legs and pulling her gaping cunt toward my mouth.

"Omigod," Mom cried as my lips enveloped hers and my tongue snaked its way up her channel. "OMIGOD."

I moved my hands up to grip her ass, firmly clutching a cheek in each hand as Mom's own hands pulled my head tighter against her writhing pussy. She was uttering a constant stream now.

"Omigod ... omigod ... ohhhhhhhh ... uhhhh ... unnnnngghh ... omigod ... ohhhhhhhhhhh."

Suddenly, her hands gripped me hard, holding me in so tight I couldn't breathe, not even through my nose. My face was flooded with a copious quantity of her juice in sequential tidal waves of effluent. When she was still, I stood, just managing to catch her weight as she went limp in my arms.

I lifted Mom up and her arms curled around my shoulders. She opened her legs and held them wide when she felt me searching for her hole. Finally, I found it and started sliding in, to the sound of a long, pleased and pleasing moan. To have a woman appreciate you like that. Fuck!

Thank god I ate her first. She was so wet, I just slid right in but I could tell her tight channel wasn't used to being filled like that, grudgingly expanding to accommodate her new lover, her son.

I didn't' waste any time. I started banging Mom hard, urged on by her moans and grunts as she flopped around at the mercy of my eager thrusts. I was exhausted after I finally filled her with my spunk, my jiz running down the inside of both her legs, and mine trembling from the effort. It was best that way, I remember thinking. If I'd got her on the floor where I could push her legs back, or turned her onto her tummy, the slap of our thighs would have woken the dead.
I confirmed that the next day, Sunday. Dad was out of the house with his golf bags by six and at 6:01 I was creeping into my parents bedroom, stark naked. Mom was sleeping on her stomach. With tremendous care, I dragged the blankets away inch by inch until her body lay before me, covered by a conservative nightgown almost to the backs of her knees, legs open with the right one lifted and bent.

Carefully, I shifted my weight onto the bed, crawling between her open legs, leaning forward to brace my weight with a hand on either side of her. She murmured something, her mind probably registering that my dad had come back to bed for some reason. She turned more fully onto her tummy, something she really shouldn't have done, not if she didn't want to get fucked.

I lowered my hips between her open legs and skittered my cock along the sheet until it nudged against her bare pussy lips.

"No, Harold. Don't," Mom murmured.
I pushed, my cockhead splitting her slit and pushing inside.

Mom's eyes flew open, suddenly awake, realizing this was no 'Harold'.

I pushed in a couple of inches, finding it a lot harder to breach her than the night before when she was soaking wet. I'll have to tongue her up first next time, I thought, but now it was too late.

Mercilessly, I shoved more cock inside my mother's cunt.

"Fuck me," Mom groaned, lifting her ass up so I could get more into her.

So I did. I came in her twice before she managed to get off the bed.

Later, downstairs, after she had dressed for church and we were waiting for Dad to get back from his golf game, I managed to get my head under her going-to-church dress. Her panties were soaked when I tugged them up her legs after upending her onto Dad's couch.

"You're evil," she gasped as I sucked her nyloned toes into my mouth, undoing my buckle and letting my dress slacks fall to my feet. After pushing my shorts down, I crouched over her, bending her knees back to her shoulders, toes still in my mouth, and shoved my cock into her pussy for the third time that morning.

"Pray Dad doesn't come home early," I advised my mother. "I'm reloaded and ready for a good one."

"Show me," Mom laughed.

 

nice story

nice story thx for the post

 

I got a boner. ;D

I could never see myself doing that, but still. Thinking of fucking a milf OH THE THOUGHTS OLOLOLOLOL

 

Good story

 

excellent! love it!

 

I couldnt put this down, I loved this Story

 

cool story bro

 

Great!

I didn't get it finished but will in the morning...Wow, What a guy! Did you get something??

 

awsome

awsome story

 

wow

fcking awsome

 

great story

 

very good story

 

Good story, probably a bit out of the realm of reality but a really HOT fantasy!! :excited:

 

Yes, I now have finished this story!

I got it all read and just shot my load as I released myself. This was such a very good, Sexy Story. If it is true it is even better. I loved it all. Let us all know if is true, Ok. Thanks Loads & Loads.

 

Awesome story I loved it.

 

I love these kinds of stories

 

That was awesome

 

Is there any more to this story?

 

ok, so like the kid earlier in the story, i just unloaded myself in the bathroom toilet. lol

*sighs in relief*

good story, man. While i'd never do anything like this with my own mom, it was a cool fantasy peice!

thanks!

 

hey good!