Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

Finally, I had to tap out. I don't think Mom even realized she was holding me with her hips. But she opened them as soon as she felt me lightly slap her thigh. Careful to keep the illusion, I slipped silently out of the bottom of the bed, then crawled out of Mom's room.

Just like she had the night before, I came back a moment later, standing in the doorway like I didn't know what was going on.

"You OK?" I asked, "I was about to go out for my run when I heard something."

"Fine," Mom said, absently. I was gratified to see her post-orgasm face. Hair everywhere. Jaw slack. Cheeks a rude shade of red. Even her azure eyes were distant and unfocused. "I'm just, y'know, waking up."

"I'll make something when I get back," I said.

Mom nodded. I was about to step away when she said my name.

"Jay, honey?

"Yeah Mom?"

"So you know, you have some, um, stuff on your chin. And your cheeks. And a bit on your nose, too."

"Oh, weird," I said. I slowly dragged my finger on my face, then popped it into my mouth. Licking hard.

I swear Mom had another little cum as she watched me suck her juices off my finger.

*

"You should get some sun," Mom said, "Be tan for all the college hotties."

We were out in the backyard. Birds chirping happily over the low hush of leaves rustling in the wind. Someone's dog barked in the distance. Mom leaned back in her lounger while I carefully painted her toenails a playful shade of green. Mom's eyes were half shut, to the point that I thought she might have fallen asleep before she spoke. Her hair, longer than usual from the lack of open salons, spilled out over the seat like a golden waterfall. Even though I knew Mom's ankle was fine, I still held it carefully, in case.

"There are no college hotties, Mom," I said.

She gave me a dubious look. "I understand that right now -- under quarantine and all -- that it's easy to forget that there is a whole world out there. But once you go back to school, I'm sure you'll meet some other girl. Lots of them, I imagine." Her implication was clear. I nodded in agreement. "Of course," I said.

"So, you should do a bit of bronzing," Mom said. She looked at me, the challenge clear in her eyes. I gave it right back to her. Finally, I spoke.

"I will if you will," I said.

Mom's face pinked. "Honey, it's a little different for girls."

"So what?" I said, "There's no one in the backyard with us. The fence is plenty high to keep out random lookers."

"You're here," Mom said.

"So?"

Mom withered under the weight of my indisputable dialectic.

"Just my shirt," Mom said.

"You'll have tan lines," I said.

"Better than getting sunburned boobs," Mom said. We both giggled. I don't think either of us was expecting her to use that word. "You first," I said.

Mom tipped her head at me and tsked her tongue.

"Both at the same time," I said.

"Fine," Mom said. She unbuttoned her flannel shirt and tossed it to the side. Then she took off her white, ribbed tank top.

I stared at the glory that was revealed. Mom was wearing a deep red lacy bra, nothing fancy, with a bit of a swooping cut that kept her breasts well covered. She had a cute little tummy with only the slightest hint of fat to it.

I'd imagined Mom's breasts more than a few times by now. They were better -- bigger, fuller -- than I'd ever conceived. And that was with the bra still on! My dick tried to shoot right out of my pants as my eyes traced every inch of my mother's newly bared body.

"Ahem," Mom said.

I'd been so entranced by her unveiling, I'd forgotten to do my own.

"Sorry," I said.

I reached down for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Mom stared straight at my chest, like a hungry cat. Then, and I swear this happened, I saw her little pink tongue slip out and lick her lips. "That's, um, very nice," Mom said.

"You look good too," I said. I waited for Mom's usual self-hating argument, but instead she nodded, like she'd been hypnotized by my pecs. A little smirk snuck across her face.

"Eyes on your own paper, miss," I said, playfully. Again, I waited for her to snap back, but she said nothing.

"Can I touch it?" Mom asked. Her voice shaky like a teenager's.

"My chest?" I asked.

"Yeah." She licked her lips again, like her mouth was covered in cotton.

"I will if you..."

"No," Mom said. Her abrupt response made it clear that there was no way I could argue around it. "I just want to, you know, appreciate all the hard work you've done. On your body."

She said this like it made any sense at all. Like her explanation, in any way, added up to why she could fondle my bare chest. The weirdest part about her argument though, was that it worked. "OK," I said, and leaned closer so Mom could touch me.

She reached over and slowly traced my pecs. Then she dragged lower, feeling the ridges of my six pack. I had a little tuft of dark hair down the middle of my chest, and she let her fingers tangle in it, the lime green nails shining through. Her wedding ring golden in the dark of my chest hair.

Mom moved her hand lower now. Down to the waistband of my shorts. I think both of us, for a second, thought she was about to do something more. Then she ripped her hand away; like she couldn't trust it.

"That's, um, very nice," Mom said, "You should be proud of all the exercise you're doing." She lay back and let her eyes drift shut.

"You sure you won't let me have a turn?" I asked.