Not needed at my after-school job, I pedaled home and got to work in the garden, pulling weeds, my 18th birthday party a distant memory now. Close to graduating, chores had, besides Tony's pizza joint, become a second source of minor-league pocket money for the summer. Getting done quickly would give me lots of free time to swim, tan and surf the net.
Weeding was a never-ending job in the warmer months and I started at the east side of our property, in the flower bed by the fence to Mr. Winslow's property. A strange sound suddenly came from the Winslows' side of the fence, almost like a growl. I frowned. Their pit bull Samson had been put down more than a year ago.
The fence was too tall for my six-foot frame to look over, so I ignored it and kept weeding. Then I heard a squeal. Did they get a new dog who just caught a squirrel? I spotted a knothole in the fence and decided to take a peek.
And lost my breath.
Not twenty feet from me, at their poolside, was my mother. Naked. Riding Mr. Winslow. He was the growler, pawing my mother's breasts. I had spent countless hours ogling her perfect 38C rack when she wasn't looking, and gone through many boxes of tissues on my bed masturbating to dreams of her. And here she was, a few feet away from me, totally naked, a sheen on those beautiful boobs, and lost in sexual bliss. She was clearly into it. My mom, fucking her heart out. I about died. Her head was thrown back as she alternated bouncing on his dick and wriggling her bottom around it in circles.
When I regained my wits, I grabbed my phone, put the camera by the knothole and turned on the video recorder, while my mind went from shock to anger and outrage, to jealousy and finally to teenage horny lust. Mom sat facing me, but obviously she couldn't see me through the hole in the fence barely large enough for the camera lens. A real-life full-frontal porn video. Featuring the woman I loved, and lusted after, more than any other.
Our neighbor's glistening tool pistoned in and out of my mother's neatly trimmed sex, her inner lips clearly visible as they clung wetly to the pleasure piston. I had no idea she was so sexy. Her body was fully formed: from those beautiful C-up breasts and trim waist to a generous ass. Wow.
After about five minutes my whirring mind finally focused on what they were saying through the grunts and squeals. I was torn. On one hand I desperately wanted to ease the torment on the strongest hardon of my short life, but on the other I had to keep recording this (probably once a lifetime) personal porn video clip, which I could use for multiple masturbation sessions. They didn't say much beyond appreciation for each others' bodies and the pleasure of great sex.
He came with a loud grunt and her cries of delight turned to whimpers of frustration as clearly she wasn't accorded the pleasure of a peak.
"Come on, Sam, you can't leave me high and dry again."
"Sorry, babe, what can I say? You're so hot I just couldn't stop myself."
Clearly, this wasn't their first time. How long had this gone on?
Her vain attempts to milk his wilting dick availed her nothing. It availed me a lot, however, because I could see her delicious 38C tits, now ungroped, moving about. Her tummy had a tiny amount of flab, her hips had a delightful fullness and her pussy had no hair below a heart-shaped tuft of brown pointing to her clit.
After twenty minutes my phone reached its recording limit, which was just as well. My mom, frustrated, had risen, put on her bikini and sundress, and gathered her stuff. As quietly as I could, I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and resumed weeding.
About fifteen minutes later, Mom came out the back door and spotted me. I heard the gasp. "Gunnar, what are you doing here?"
I looked around, feigning as much surprise as I could. "Hi Mom. Tony canceled my hours for today because one of their ovens went on the fritz. I thought you went for a run or something, so I thought I'd get to work on the weeds."
Her eyes showed her concern. Did I hear or see anything? I decided to milk this situation carefully. Who knew? I might get her to lighten up on her chronic dissatisfaction. Nothing I did was ever good enough for her. She obviously couldn't ask me if I heard anything--that would give her away, because I'd immediately ask, "Hear what?" However, my proximity to the fence meant the chances were good I had heard them.
"How long have you been at it?" she asked.
I chuckled inwardly. Time to turn the knife a little. "About half an hour." Payoff was headed my way. Her old self would immediately be critical: why have I done so little in half an hour? However, if she gave me grief, I might retaliate with my revelation. Once that cat was out of the bag, there would be no stuffing it back in. At least not the cat. I needed some time to figure out how and when to secure a steady flow of stuffing to extract from her indiscretion.
So, rather than beat on me, she smiled. "Good. Thanks for getting started on your own."
"Are you going for a swim?" I asked, glancing at her attire and pool bag.
What could she say? "Yes, I'm hot and sweaty and I need to cool down."
I got up and walked closer. "Cool, let me oil you up."
Caught. Without end, she always lectured me, Dad and my sister to never go out in the sun without proper protection. On purpose I didn't pose it to her as an option--I was going to sunscreen her body. How would she explain a refusal?
Pursing her lips, she nodded and walked to a poolside chaise, took off her clothes and stretched out on her stomach. Like usual, I unclipped her top and slid the straps to the side. I took the lotion, warmed it in my hands and applied it to her back in a perfunctory manner. Visibly, she relaxed, Her mind probably said she was dodging a bullet.
Starting with her feet, I rubbed oil onto the back of her legs. I knew she liked this, so I didn't rush it. Sure enough, a soft moan floated down my way. When I got to her knees, she opened her legs slightly and I looked upward.
The entire lower half of her bikini bottoms was dark with her juice and Mr. Winslow's cum leaking out. I grinned. She had not counted on this, and I intended to play it for all I could get. My massaging of her thighs slowed. Again, the sighs of an unreleased orgasm mixed with the pleasure of a good massage, and her legs parted further.
I rubbed her outer thighs for a few inches, then moved to the back and then her inner thighs along the same band. Slower and slower I crept to her sloppy mess. Was she aware of it?
She'd obviously picked one of her skimpiest bikinis for Mr. Winslow, one I'd never seen and which exposed most of her lovely, full ass. My hands spread up and out to capture all her exposed ass-flesh, from the outside in. A louder moan floated up and her butt squeezed and pressed down on the towel beneath her.
I pulled my hands slowly and gently inward along the bottom line of her bikini, down to her inner thigh and approaching her wet pussy. Was she into what I was doing, or would she revert to mother-mode? Again, her ass clenched and she moaned softly. I 'accidentally' skimmed past the edge of the bikini, over her inner ass, and immediately pulled back before she could complain. Her only response was a gasp and another clench.
Emboldened, I slid my hands down a half-inch or so, and made a circular move to the top of her ass. It looked like she relaxed, giving me the guts to repeat the stroke to her inner thigh and wet pussy. This time I 'accidentally' went over the line straight into her wet pussy. I kept rubbing like it was open flesh to be protected from the harsh sun, and moved back down to reinforce the accident illusion.
Decision time--she had to know the second time was no accident and if she did nothing there would be a third time. She also had to guess that I at least suspected she and Winslow were up to no good, so no need to poke the bear with a rebuke. So she did the next best thing: she turned around, keeping the loose top over her boobs. "Thanks, Gunnar, I'll do the front," she said and reached for the bottle.
Not leaving, I stood by her knees. The lower front of her bikini bottoms, like the rear, were soaked with Winslow's cum and her juices. I looked there until I was sure she saw me looking. I didn't ask, and she didn't offer any explanation. Our eyes connected. The tension hung in the air most deliciously as she rubbed in the suntan lotion around her breasts and down her tummy.
Before she could nudge me back to my weeding, I started talking. "What kind of flowers are you planning for next season?"
Gardening, flower gardening in particular, was her main hobby, and without thinking, she started in. Most of her flowers were annuals, so every year's planting decisions were big for her.
Her lotion attention shifted to her legs. "Want me to do your feet?" I asked, to spare her the inconvenience of messing with the unfastened top she'd have to hold if she raised her torso to reach her feet.
"Thanks," she said and handed me back the bottle. She did have pretty feet. Her straight toes had an even progression from big to little toe, and her dark red nail polish looked fresh. And hot. Another little gift for Winslow?
