All characters are over 18 years old
*****
I was still smiling the next morning whenever I thought about the shocked scream my mother let out when I'd told her what I wanted to do to her.
She obviously loved hearing me say it, but it's not the kind of thing a mother is ever prepared to hear from her daughter. She was as giddy as I'd ever seen her, but she insisted that we not do anything with my dad in the house. We agreed that we'd wait until the next day when he was at work before we began "practicing."
There was a tap at my door. "Who iiiis it?" I sang out, knowing exactly who it was.
"It's me," came Mom's answer. Even through my door I could hear the nervous waver in her voice.
"Come in." The butterflies went bananas in my stomach when my door opened and I saw my mom standing there in nothing but a towel fresh from the shower.
She stepped into my room and closed the door behind her despite the fact that we had the house to ourselves after my dad left for work over two hours ago. It felt strange that we were doing this in the morning with broad daylight streaming through the curtains, but it was clear neither of us wanted to wait until afternoon. Besides, I decided that everything was going to feel strange about this thing we were doing, so none of the rules of the real world applied.
"Your father can never find out about this," she warned with a furrowed brow.
"Mom, for the millionth time, I know. What do you think I'm going to do? Make an announcement at Christmas dinner? Hey, everyone, guess what - me and mom are humping!"
"Well, if you do, don't use the word 'humping.'" At least she hadn't totally lost her sense of humor. "You ready for this? Last chance for you to come to your senses before this happens for real."
"Ready as I'll ever be."
She looked at me lying on my bed. I had taken my shower earlier and was now in one of my long nightshirts. No bra or panties underneath, of course. I only realized then that the big picture of Spongebob Square pants on the front of my shirt might be spoiling the mood.
My mom took a deep breath and let her towel drop.
"Holy shit, Mom!" I blurted out.
She covered her tits and crotch with her hands and looked around in a panic. "What? What is it?"
"No, it's just your body. How do you still look that friggin' hot at your age?"
She visibly relaxed even as the blush came to her cheeks. "Don't scare me like that. I thought you heard your father coming home or something." She let her hands fall to her sides with a shrug. "You know me, I'm just one of those obnoxious people with a good metabolism. All I do is go for a walk a few times a week. This is just what I look like, I guess."
I devoured her with my eyes. It was even better than my fantasies, if that was possible. Her jet black hair hung straight over her shoulders, but thankfully wasn't long enough to cover her breasts. Her tits were only slightly bigger than mine, and with just a bit more sag to them. For a woman her age, they looked fantastic. Her light brown areolas were slightly oval and canted at jaunty angles. The nipples sat dead center and protruded with a delicate roundness that promised delights beyond their modest appearance.
My mom's belly was almost flat, with just enough of a swell to betray her still fertile maturity. I could see the faint lines of stretch marks hashing her lower tummy, but these only made her all the more attractive to me. Her pubic hair was trimmed into a neat triangle. I couldn't help imagining her tending to that dark patch in private, spreading her legs, carefully maneuvering the razor around her most sensitive areas, trying to make her pussy look as attractive and as presentable as possible. Did she do it for my father, or for her own gratification? Whichever it was, I admired the effect.
Up until this moment, I had always thought of Mom's legs as her best feature. They looked spectacular in a nice pair of sheer pantyhose, but they were also breathtaking when bare. Her slender thighs showed the contours of her taut muscles, and her calves tapered elegantly to ankles that any girl would kill for. Even without the benefit of heels, she looked like a come-fuck-me runway model.
"Damn," I said in amazement, "I hope I look half as good as you when I'm your age."
"Well, what do you say you get out of that silly shirt so I can see what you look like at this age?"
I loved that my mom was as eager to see me naked as I was to see her. The butterflies moved up to my chest as I pulled the shirt off over my head. I couldn't remember the last time I was naked in front of my mom, but it must have been a bath time many, many years ago.
Her eyes took me in. I was self-conscious and excited to show myself off to her at the same time. She slowly took me in. I had enough highlights in my brunette hair that I could be mistaken for a dirty blonde (in more ways than one). She took in my middling B-cup breasts with what appeared to be lustful admiration. She was right about me having lost a few pounds since I'd gone off to school, which I was thankful for as her gaze roamed over the smooth flesh of my slim middle. It wasn't long before my mother's attention focused just a little lower.
I became lightheaded at the realization that my mom was staring at my naked pussy. I didn't have enough hair down there to require trimming, so I left it natural. It was a light brown and fairly sparse. Even so, I had shaved my lips on either side of my slit this morning in anticipation of this moment. I opened my legs and displayed my cunt to my mom. I thought I heard her breath catch in her chest as I exposed myself to her in a way I never expected I would.
"Emily," she gasped, "you are easily the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life."
Her words were like a warm shot of brandy flowing into my belly and spreading all through me. I had never been as horny with any of the guys I had been with as I was at that moment. Spreading myself in front of my mother was as turned on as I'd ever been in my life. I know how fucked up that must sound, but it wasn't something I wanted to think about right then.
"Come get in my bed with me," I said, holding out my arms like I did when I was little and wanted to be picked up.
I took in every graceful movement of her supple body as she joined me on my bed. "My God," I whispered, "how does Dad keep his hands off of you for more than two seconds?"
She laughed as she settled in close to me. "Trust me, he manages it somehow."
She took me in her arms with a hint of awkwardness. I felt my mom's naked skin against mine for the first time. It was glorious and frightening all at once. She was trembling as she held me. It reassured me that she was as anxious about this as I was.
"How should we start?" I asked, honestly not sure what to do next.
"I was hoping you would know," she giggled, sounding more like a horny college girl than a mature mother with a lifetime of experience. "Maybe we can just start by touching each other?"
I didn't need more of an invitation than that. My hand went to her nearest breast.
"Okay! Here we go, I guess," she exclaimed, somewhat startled by my quick reaction.
The first line had been crossed. It was one thing to see each other naked, but it was another for me to be fondling my mom's breast. And this wasn't a clinical touch, it was explicitly sexual. I first massaged one tit, then moved to the other.
"Oh, that's nice," my mom sighed. "So different than the way your father touches me."
"Mom, do you mind not talking about Dad while we're doing this?"
"Right, sorry. My bad." Her voice adopted a dreamy quality. "Won't happen again."
I squeezed and fondled her a little more, then went for a nipple. I ran my fingertip around the periphery, slowly zeroing in on the center. As I toyed with her soft nub, it stiffened and became fuller. A tingle ran down my back knowing that I was responsible for exciting her in this way. I'd made guys hard before, but for some reason there wasn't this same sense of satisfaction. Making my mom's nipples hard felt like a real accomplishment rather than a mechanical inevitability.
"Does that feel good?" I asked out of pure insecurity.
"It feels wonderful, Emily."
Hearing my mom say my name while I was touching her breasts made my pussy clench with desire.
"Is it okay if I suck your nipple?" The word nipple felt clumsy as I said it, but it also gave me a thrill.
"Yes, of course," Mom said breathily, "please do."
I leaned over and hovered over my mother's chest. Okay, here we go, I guess. I parted my lips and took her nipple in. My mom was holding her breath, but I swear I could hear her heart beating. I sucked. The sensation was glorious. It was so buttery soft in my mouth that I let out a moan to show how wonderful it was. I was sucking my mom's tit. It was beyond insane, but it was really happening.
My sucking quickly morphed into suckling. I had a Freudian moment where I wondered if the warm feelings welling up inside me had anything to do with breastfeeding when I was an infant. Did those latent memories somehow make sucking my mother's nipple that much more gratifying? I didn't want to waste any energy analyzing it and instead tried to focus on how fucking amazing it felt. My mom encouraged me with a light touch to move to her other breast and I happily did. It turned me on to know that she was enjoying this as much, if not more, than I was.
"That feels wonderful, sweetheart," my mom whispered and kissed the top of my head.
I didn't want to stop, but I thought she might want a turn. After a few parting licks and kisses, I rolled off her and onto my back. I pushed my tits together in an effort to make them look bigger and more inviting. "Do you want to try?"
