Moving in with Mom

No, it wouldn't be easy at all. My mom was...well, I think I've already described her at the very beginning as 'kind of bitchy'. And she was, to be perfectly honest. If it wasn't her way, it was wrong, no matter how much better it objectively might have been. She was almost impossible to persuade into anything that she hadn't already thought of, and once her mind was made up - that was it. End of story.

I sat there in my chair, limp in more ways than one, working on catching my breath. Had she always slept in the nude? I had no way to know - she had always been a fairly modest woman around the house, and her and dad had always kept their bedroom door closed, day or night. It was always made pretty clear that mom and dad's room was their space, and our rooms was ours, and never the two should meet.

Eyes closed, I replayed the scene - it wasn't hard, burned into my memory as it was. Mostly turned onto her back, the sheet pulled down to her waist, one slender leg dangling off the sofa. Lit in an almost eerie glow from the flicking television, shadows playing over her body and face. I could easily remember the gentle, barely-there swell of each breast as they lay flattened atop her chest, the angular, lean line of her thigh where it peeked out from the sheet, the flatness of her almost-concave belly.

I shivered, feeling myself stir in my pants again, even though I'd just finished not fifteen minutes before. I glanced at my door, debating - dare I push my luck? The clock read just past 2am, so it was well before the time when she would normally be getting up. With any luck, she'd have fallen deeply asleep again, and I might get another show. I got up from my chair, this time grabbing my phone and, in my besock'd feet, eased my way out of the the guest room.

I paused outside the door, leaving it ajar in case I needed to dart back in. I slid slowly over the tile of the kitchen, scooting step by step, and leaned in, peeking around the wall into the living room. I blinked a few times, then closed my eyes, willing them to adjust to the dark, then opened them again to slits, the whole time, in my head, willing her to be in the same position she had been in before.

No such luck - she had shifted, and pulled the sheet up. She was still on her back, covered by that damned sheet up so that both her breasts were obscured, although that leg was still hanging down from beneath the sheet, her foot resting on the floor. A bit calmer and more composed than I was the last time, I glanced about, and noticed that reason for the...event. Two beer bottles sat on the coffee table in front of the soda - they looked empty, from where I stood, but I couldn't tell. Either way, if she had drunk two whole beers, at her body weight and such - it could have laid a pretty righteous buzz on her.

I slowly crept into the room, and, being smart this time, reached over and pressed the Volume Down button along the side of the television, to prevent another blast of sound of music from stirring her. At the speed of glacial drift, I inched my way over, and over, until I was within arm's reach of her. I could hear her soft snoring, so I knew she was well and truly out. I reached over, and took hold of the sheet, while lifting my phone with my other hand, pressing the 'Record' button for the video.

It captured what it could, and the vid came out pretty decently, considering it was a smartphone camera in the light of a flickering television. I was able to pull that sheet back, a little, then a little more, enough to bare one of her little breasts, although I didn't dare any more than that. Crowned by a little pink nipple, the subtle mound rose barely off her chest, and shivered just a little with every breath she took.

I swallowed, hard and heavy, my throat gone dry again, and my cock pushing at the front of my shorts. Did I dare? This was already supremely a bad idea - if she woke up, or even stirred, and I was standing there over her, a cameraphone in one hand, the sheet in the other...well. Homeless is a bad situation to be in, especially in winter. Slowly, I lowered the sheet, letting it drape down her chest, leaving her breast exposed but not revealing anything else, my recorder going the entire time.

I'd come this far - I had to. I just fucking had to. I couldn't be here, and then, later, start thinking 'I should have...' With those sorts of thoughts whirling through my head, I lifted my now-free hand, and reached out, letting the tips of my fingers brush ever so lightly along the outer curve of her breast, where it met her ribs. Her skin was very soft - she was an avid applier of lotions and body creams, my mother, having more than a little bit of vanity folded in with her various other character flaws. I let those fingers slide up along her breast to her underarm, then paused, not wanting to stir the pot anymore just yet. She hadn't stirred, but she wasn't snoring at the moment, so I lifted my hand away and just...waited, like a rabbit that knows a wolf has seen it, but is pretty sure the hunter doesn't quite know where it is just now.

Her lips parted, and she started to snore again, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief. And then, again - I couldn't just stop. One more thing, one more little thing. Reaching up, I extended my index finger, and brushed it across the very tip of that little nipple. So very slowly and lightly I circled it, caressing the areola, and when I decided to stop courting homelessness and perhaps prison, I lifted my hand away, my cock aching stiff in my shorts.

Had I heard her moan? Was it a soft encouragement? I'm not sure. I've replayed the video a thousand times since then, and while I an certain, by eye and by touch, that her nipple did tighten and stiffen, I can't tell if she actually made any kind of sound, whether encouraging, protesting, or otherwise. Slowly, I stood up, willing my knees and other joints not to pop or crack as I did, and backed out of the room, my camera still held up to record every second that I could, until I cleared the living room, closing the camera app and fleeing back to my bedroom, but remembering to close the door slowly and carefully.

I dropped into my chair, processing everything that I'd seen, and done. I could so vividly remember the texture of her nipple along my finger, the way it jutted out just a little more, maybe half an inch, after I'd toyed with it and aroused it. Licking my lips, I ran my fingers back through my hair, thinking, planning. Two beers, huh? Two beers...

I wondered what three would do.

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