Posted on

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ass

This is a sequel to A Winter Hike with Mom. I recommend reading that story first to understand David and his mother’s first experience, but it is not essential.

I leaned across Mom and looked out of the window. It was a clear moonless night, and I could see the occasional light below as we flew over the Rockies on our way back to Philly. I felt Mom’s breath on my cheek and inhaled her faint perfume. We were on the red-eye. Mom was sitting next to me in the window seat, silent, alone in her thoughts. I had the aisle. We were in business class on our way back from Dad’s funeral. My father had died in Oceanside, CA. Drowned in the damned marina trying to save his girlfriend, who had fallen off the boat late at night. I pulled down the blind and sat back in my seat.

It had happened twelve days ago. My mother was upset, very upset. So was I. Relatives had died before, but not like this. I had never seen her cry, ever, before that funeral. Afterwards Mom spoke to me in the limo taking us to the airport, still distraught, weeping.

“I wish I had stayed with your father, David. It all happened so fast back then. Our families wanted us to split. But now I’m forty and where am I, really? On my own and so busy at the Institute I don’t know if I will ever find someone. I’ve left it too late.” My parents had broken up at college when I came along. They weren’t married and I was an accident.

“Mom, you’ve got Topher.” Topher was Mom’s new boyfriend. He was amiable enough, although he wore too much aftershave, and was perhaps not the sharpest tool in the shed. But he was better than the last one.

“Topher,” said Mom, hopelessly.

OK, perhaps I should not have mentioned Topher. Mom was thinking about Dad. This was pretty heavy stuff from my Mom, a physician-researcher, who doesn’t go in for self-pity. By the way, Mom hooked up with Topher pretty soon after our adventure in the Pennsylvania woods. I don’t know why, but I suspect the two events were linked.

I’ve been much closer to Mom ever since that little incident on the hike six months before. We’d had an emergency in the cold, shared a sleeping bag, and things happened that are forbidden between mother and son. We couldn’t help it. It was my first time. But far more important, she saved my life on that day at great risk to herself. I never forget that.

Since then our relationship has changed, but nothing physical had taken place again. Mom and I have both chosen to carry on as if nothing happened. But, you know, it is difficult to put the genie back in the bottle after it has been released. As a consequence I am beginning to understand the meaning of the phrase ‘sexual tension’. And now my father is dead, Mom’s only true love.

Occasionally I see her watching me when she thinks I’m not looking, especially if I’m half-dressed. I certainly sneak looks at her, too. Like her ass when she bends over to unload the dishwasher in her jogging pants. She has a great ass. Two boiled eggs in a handkerchief is the expression that comes to mind. She is a very attractive woman, dark, slender and athletic. Aside from looks, she has a spark of vitality and fun that I never tire of. Her mother was Italian. I found myself spending more time at her Rittenhouse Square apartment, helping with things that she doesn’t really need help with.

But most of the time during semester I lived in student accommodation. It was easier to entertain Hilda there. She was the other big change in my life. My first girlfriend. Late in the day by most people’s standards, but my very own. She had just finished her first year at UPenn, like me. She was a little overweight, bossy, and her face was a stranger to make-up. But she was kind enough to have sex with me. Mom was always polite and sociable to her. But I could tell Mom didn’t really like her.

The funny thing is, both my Mom and I had found sexual partners pretty quickly after our involuntary woodland tryst. So, all done and dusted, then. No issues at all. Moving on with our lives. Well, not really, as it turned out.

Neither Mom nor I had smiled, let alone laughed, since we heard the news about Dad, nearly two weeks before. The flight back, I felt, could be the beginning of a return to normality. I was looking forward to getting back together with Hilda. Two weeks is a long time…..and I seemed to be thinking about sex more and more as our sad trip concluded.

Anyway, by now my IPad mini had lost its charge and I was tired of staring at the seat in front. Mom was wide awake too, and doing nothing in particular. I decided to try and cheer her up. Mom has a mischievous sense of humor, which had gone missing since Dad’s death. I had persuaded her to have a drink a little earlier, but it hadn’t done the trick. Then, as luck would have it, Mom gave me my chance. She must have been tired of the silence, too.

“How are you getting on with Brunhilde? She seems like a nice girl,” said Mom.

This was crap. Mom thought she was a dimwit with only one useful function; to initiate me into the mysteries of sex. I thought that was a bit harsh, but it is possible ataşehir escort Mom was on the right track. Either way, I was very grateful to Hilda. At the time it never occurred to me that Mom might be jealous.

“Well, Mom. She is very giving. Her name is Hilda. Not Brunehilde.” Mom snorted. I carried on.

“Mom, we can talk, can’t we?”

There is not a mother in the universe who will answer no to that question.

“Of course, Davy.”

“We’ll, I ‘m a bit confused about some aspects of my physical relationship with Hilda.”

“Go on. I’m all ears.” Mom’s eyes brightened.

“Well, when we first started being intimate …”

“I’m sorry David you’ll have to be more specific. Do you mean having sexual intercourse?” Mom was a stickler for correct terminology.

“Yes. The first time it all happened so fast I didn’t have a chance to do a good job. You know, to please Hilda .”

“How unfortunate. I expect you got another opportunity?” Mom was enjoying this, I could tell. Her eyes were wide and intense.

“Oh yes. I was determined to please her the next time. So when I was ready to blow my load….”

“You mean ejaculate?” interrupted Mom, frowning with a phony expression of professional interest on her face.

“Yes, anyway, this time I was ready to give Hilda a real treat. So, just as I was about to ejaculate I withdrew out of her and came all over her face. There was so much cum, she looked like Frosty the Snowman.”

“Really? What happened then?” Mom was struggling to keep a straight face. I shook my head to emphasize how baffled I was.

“Well, instead of being pleased, like I thought, she went ballistic. Jumped up yelling at me and ran into the bathroom to wash it off. I don’t understand it.”

Mom laughed so hard and so long I thought they were going to divert the plane. She finally calmed down, after the stewardess gave us an angry ‘be quiet’ look, and I continued.

“Mom, in everything I’ve seen, you know on the Internet, the woman looks so pleased when it happens. I can’t understand it.” Mom was still struggling, but she managed to speak.

“Well, Davy….she does sound like a strange one, I must say. Perhaps she needs some counseling. You could suggest it to her. I know some sex therapists.”

“I don’t know, Mom. She might take it the wrong way.”

We lapsed into silence. I was glad to give Mom a laugh. But we’d been in the air for a while. It was time to get some sleep. The cabin was quiet, the lights down low, and most passengers were asleep, no thanks to Mom. I pulled the thin blanket over my lap and made sure my seat was back as far as it would go. Just for comfort I loosened the top button on my jeans, no more. Mom settled down under her blanket as well. The engine noise soon lulled me off to sleep.

I was in a cinema watching a film. Not sure what it was. The film itself wasn’t sexy. The cinema was not very full, but someone was sitting next to me. I don’t know who, you know how it is in dreams. Anyway soon a hand stole over into my lap and started softly rubbing. The hand unbuttoned my fly all the way down and pulled out my dick, which was getting hard. It felt great. The soft petite hand, which was wet and slippery, started to stroke me. It felt my dick all over, squeezing me softly, playing with me. As I got harder the hand started to pump gently, ever so gently. I got really hard. Gradually the pace picked up and the grip tightened, stroking and tugging all the way up and down. It was so warm and wet. I was getting to the point of no return.

I didn’t look to see who was sitting next to me. It might have been a man which would have spoiled things, and in any case you are only so logical in dreams. Then I heard a voice whispering in my ear, soft, feminine, very familiar.

“You can come on my face anytime, my darling David.”

And then I came.

I think I woke up instantly. I opened my eyes and sat bolt upright, looking around me. Mom was fast asleep, turned towards the window. I watched her for signs of life. Had she said it or was it my imagination in the dream? Then something else got my attention. I looked down at my lap, still covered by the blanket, thank God. But I had a problem. My hand checked while the other firmly held the blanket in place. My fly was unbuttoned all the way down, just like in the dream. My dick was free and untrammeled. I don’t know how that could have happened. Worse, my now shrinking dick had very unhelpfully shot a huge load onto my lap under the blanket. I had a big problem, and I didn’t think the flight attendant would help. Business class only gets you so far.

Mom stirred under her blanket and turned back towards me. Then her eyes opened and she looked at me with affection, the picture of innocent motherly concern.

“Everything alright, Davy?” Color me suspicious.

“No, Mom, it isn’t. I had a dirty dream and blew a load in my pants. Now I have a big cleanup problem, and the flight attendant keeps walking past. Shit, here she comes again.”

I clasped my hands over the blanket on my lap. kadıköy escort She passed by with a smile at me.

“Oh, so you’ve had a nocturnal emission? Nothing to be ashamed of David,” said Mom.

“Mom, in case you hadn’t noticed we are on the friggin’ red eye. Not at home.”

“Don’t panic, David. How bad is it?” I sneaked a quick look under the blanket. Oh man.

“Mom, remember the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico?”

Mom looked interested then, without asking, lifted up a corner of the blanket when the coast was clear and peered down at my lap. Her eyes went wide. She leaned forward and pulled up her handbag, opened it and started to pull out tissues. She also pulled out a bottle of hand cream.

“Can you get to the restroom to clean yourself up?”

“I need some clean-up here first. Otherwise I’ll leave a trail along the floor. I can’t button myself up with this mess.”

“OK, here’s what we’ll do. You keep a lookout and I’ll clean you up enough to get to the bathroom . Just hold the blanket up and keep your eyes open.”

Well. This plan had its attractive points.

“OK. Thanks Mom.” I kept my head up while Mom went to work. I lifted up the blanket at her side while keeping a lookout as she started. It was still the middle of the night, the lights were dimmed and most if not all the passengers were sleeping.

“I’ve only got so many tissues,” said Mom, although she seemed quite happy about this. My head was up looking around on sentry duty. I could feel Moms hands moving over me and around, exploring the surface of my cock. Her sweet fingers were squishing through the semen on my belly and groin as she checked around the whole area, cupping and catching the spunk in her hand.

“Mom..” I whispered, “What are you doing….”

“I can’t get it all with tissue, Davy, there’s too much. Keep looking out.” I did. Moms hand scooped up what felt like a spoonful and it disappeared from my pants. Good. The hand soon returned. My Mom’s head was still bent down over the blanket at the side, I suppose so she could see what she was doing. Another handful disappeared. Mom was a genius. This was working better than I thought. Mom’s hand on my dick and balls felt great, and of course I started to get hard. But the fear of the attendant returning stopped a return to full party mode. It still felt unbelievable, and what’s more it was my mother cleaning me up, which was doing strange things to my brain.

“Nearly done, David,” said Mom in a breathless voice, as if she had been struggling for air a little. I felt tissues being wiped around my crotch and surrounding clothes, and then it was all over.

“One more thing, David.”

Mom’s hand returned and I felt a cool liquid caressingly rubbed over my dick and balls. Hand cream. I started to get hard again really quickly.

“Mom, that’s not helping.”

“I’m sorry, Davy, you’re right. My mistake.”

Mom’s hand pulled away, her fingers grasped my dick at the base and then tenderly cupped my cock all the way up to the head to remove the excess hand cream, where it lovingly let go with a reluctant squeeze.

“I think you are good to go to the bathroom Davy, if you need to.”

I felt around. I was clean as a whistle and fragrant. My cock had never felt so pampered. I buttoned up quickly and I felt so much relief, I can’t tell you.

Mom wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looked a little strangely at me, then she spoke.

“Davy, can I have some of your water?” I handed her my bottle, and she chugged it down, almost finishing it. Then she sprinkled the remainder on her hands and wiped them with tissues. I was surprised to see the pile of Kleenex she had removed from her handbag was not much reduced. Mom was so efficient. Then we both relaxed and slept until Philly.

If you ever fly into Philly get a window seat on the right. Most of the time they use the westerly runways and you get a great view of Center City if the weather is good. I had swapped with Mom and looked down at the city. I could see University City, where I lived during term, Mom’s place, the Comcast Tower, and the even the mothballed ships near the old Navy yard as we flew low on final. I chatted to Mom as we came in. She had some life in her eyes now, and was even smiling at me, with the occasional giggle.

We landed. The summer was exceptionally hot and humid. Even at six am when we emerged from the terminal it was muggy. We got back to Mom’s place, a large expensive apartment high up in Rittenhouse Square, only to discover that something in the bathroom ceiling was dripping, making a big wet puddle on the floor. It was early in the morning and the services would take a while to come so I volunteered to fix it, or try to, straight away. I got the ladder and had a look behind the ceiling panel. It was a tight squeeze up there, but it seemed to be a moisture trap blockage in the AC. I switched it off temporarily.

Hilda was coming over first thing and we were going to hang out for the day at Mom’s. The only good thing about heat in the city is that women wear fewer bostancı escort clothes. That includes Hilda and my Mom, and goes double when AC is on the fritz. I was sizing up the problem when the doorbell rang. It was Hilda. I could tell Mom didn’t want to be bothered so early but here she was. I went to let her in. We kissed and I was pleased to see her. I parked her in the main living room. She had brought some study materials on medieval Swedish pottery. Hilda was on a European kick and was wearing clogs. Every time she walked it was clack clack clack.

Mom came in and said hello to Hilda. She had changed into a short sleeveless cotton shift. No bra. I had already changed into loose shorts and a T-shirt. I found myself ogling my girlfriend and my Mom together, vivid immature fantasies of a three-way floated through my head. This was nonsense, I barely knew what I was doing in a two way. I pulled myself together before it became obvious. Mom spoke.

“David, I appreciate you’re trying to fix it, but it is already getting hot. If you can’t sort it out quickly I am going to call building services. Let me know if you need any help, OK?”

I went off to get the tools. Access was through the ceiling panels. The only problem was, I could reach it on the stepladder but I found my head and upper torso in a tight boxy ceiling space with nowhere to put my tools. Moisture was dripping on me so I took off my T-shirt. I needed help. I extricated myself from the ceiling and went back to the living room. Mom was sitting looking out over Rittenhouse Square lost in thought, while Hilda was engrossed in Swedish medieval pottery on her laptop.

“Hilda, can you give me a hand for ten minutes? I need someone to hand me up the tools. Otherwise I have to back down the ladder every time.”

“I’ll be there in five,” said Hilda, not looking up from her screen. Mom turned to look at me as I stood there in my shorts, my shoulders and chest wet with the AC drips. I went back to the bathroom and climbed the ladder, holding a spanner. From my mid-chest upwards I was enclosed in the ceiling space, while standing on the third rung from the top. I could steady myself against the inside quite safely, but I could not really see down, just wave my hand around below. I heard Hilda coming, clack clack clack. The clogs were even noisier on the tiled bathroom floor.

“Can you hand me up the small screwdriver?” I waved my hand down through the gap. It appeared in my hand and I lifted it up to work on the AC. This job was going to take longer than I thought. Two hands gripped my right thigh softly and started to make their way up to my shorts. Hilda was getting frisky. Good. No reason not to enjoy ourselves on the job.

One hand felt inside my shorts and started to fondle me. The other found my ass and kneaded my buttocks. I carried on working. I was getting stroked good, and sure enough I was getting hard. Then the hands slowly pulled down my loose shorts and extracted my cock which I could feel wobbling about in space, free and happy. Then a clack clack as Hilda climbed up onto the stepladder. I twisted my pelvis around to help Hilda reach the critical area.

I felt the head of my cock enter Hilda’s mouth, guided by her hand, her tongue darting all over the glans. Then a cheeky nibble with her teeth. I thrust deeper into her mouth, I couldn’t help it. But I was standing on a ladder. No problem; Hilda grabbed my ass tightly to steady me and then started to blow me, harder and harder. I stopped working on the AC and just tried to hang on in my ceiling space. My dick was going all the way down Hilda’s throat. Then she withdrew my dick from her mouth and pumped it hard with one hand, my precum and her saliva now making the whole thing very slippery. I could feel the end coming. I knew I had to warn her; I didn’t want a repeat of the last time when she got so upset..

“I’m going to come…..”

I thought I heard a gasp of pleasure and excitement from below. Then I came. My knees went weak, my back arched, and I felt spurt after spurt of cum pumping out of my cock. I held on and tried not to fall off the ladder. Where was it landing? I knew exactly where because Hilda was dragging the tip of my cock around all over her face as I came. I could feel her nose, her lips, her eyes with the gooey tip of my penis. I wanted to watch so badly, but it was impossible. I couldn’t see down there. But I knew Hilda’s face was swimming in my semen. Probably her hair, too. Then she stuffed my dick back into her mouth for one last spurt, which I felt her swallow. She lovingly licked me clean, moaning, as she swallowed it all down. It sounded so erotic. Too soon my shorts were pulled back up, I heard a clack clack as Hilda got off the ladder and the clacks diminish as she walked away out of the bathroom.

I stood on the ladder with trembling knees. It had been fantastic, although I never did get the right spanner I needed. I hadn’t fixed the AC, but my heart was no longer in the job. Let the damn management do it. I extricated myself from the ceiling and shakily descended the ladder. I retrieved my T-shirt from the side of the bath and put it back on. Quick inspection in the shorts; all neat and tidy. Decent again. I packed up the ladder, put away the tools and returned to the living room about ten minutes later after I washed my face.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir