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We've done things together that mothers and sons don't usually do.
I leaned over the table to talk to her more quietly. Yet." I let the word "yet" linger at the table, and mom stayed silent. She covered the tiny panties easily in her fist and stuffed them into her small purse.
Of course, it was impossible to get the images of that moment out of my head, and the next day I'd felt like a ravenous beast, wanting more of her. Our busy schedules got in the way, and during the brief times we were together over the next few days I had the impression from mom that she needed a break from the craziness. He brought mom a green salad with vinaigrette and me a seasonal squash soup with a dribble of crème fraiche over the surface. that word." Mom looked at me across the table, steadily, with a hint of a frown.
"How about if I give you the chance to do what you wanted to do with dad? "I mean, mom, with me you can do what you wanted to do with dad," I said. I'll help you do that." Mom didn't reply immediately, but she arched her brows, and the corners of her mouth twisted in a wry expression. If you do that they're going to see it." She furrowed her brow, and I thought it looked cute. We had done so much already that the shock threshold had moved a lot. "You take the photo with your phone, and text it to me." She opened her mouth slowly as though she was forming the words to refuse, and I interrupted her. I held my phone up to my face, eagerly awaiting mom's text. The soft skin, the delicate petal-like lips, even the hint of dew inside the depths between them -- all were on display in the photo.
I had some plans for the day, and to pull them off I wanted to look older than I was.
Mom and I were having lunch together and enjoying the unseasonable warmth of a mid-fall afternoon.
While she took the call, I looked out at the partly shaded patio around me and thought about the previous week. I mean, I did want to fuck her, very, very badly, but I wanted something else, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. She had shown me something in her, and I wanted to tease it out, encourage it, bring it to full flower. I thought about it a lot, and I finally figured out a plan for the next step. I just keep thinking about what we did in the shower the other day." She leaned over the table. I just keep thinking how slutty I must have looked to you.
Only five days earlier mom and I had lain on the shower floor while she had given me a foot job. My cock got a workout from my hand several times a day, to ease my agitation. Because, whatever mom's hesitation was, I knew I wanted to take another step, and that I was going to. And that's what brought me to lunch with my mom on a sunny, pleasant fall day on the patio of a trendy restaurant. Before either of us could say anything, the waiter arrived. What a slut I must seem like to you now." "Mom," I said, "you sound like you're trying to convince me that you are a slut.