Another Chapter 1, I have too many ideas and not enough focus to work on one, ha! Here is another plot light, sex heavy entry. However, there is a story to tell and one that I am proud of.
Hope you all enjoy!
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It was a weird feeling. I was sitting in the waiting room of an attorney I had never met, thousands of miles away from home. Odder still was the reason I was there--a father I had never met was dead. He left before I was born, leaving my mother alone and without a word until a few weeks ago, when we were contacted by this lawyer about his will. Drunk driving was a hell of a thing, but he was both the only one in the accident and the one intoxicated, so it was hard to pinpoint how I felt about it. My mother decided it was the perfect opportunity to bond together on a "summer road trip." She seemed conflicted on the subject of my father's demise. I turned 18 last month, just before we got the news, and graduated from high school. With my impending absence due to college, she turned the news of my "father's" passing into something "gold," as she put it.
I grew up with little worry about money; my mother was the real breadwinner and was a top real estate agent in Yonkers, NY. She still made me work with chores and a job as soon as I turned 16, but I love her more than anything. So any money we were due would be just a drop in the bucket. I heard some movement, so I rose to meet her.
"Are you sure that I can't help you around town?" He asked, "I know some of the most exclusive restaurants." The lawyer was laying it on thick.
I was used to this, as my mother, Clara, was a stunner. She was only 5'4", but you would never know it, as she had perfected the art of walking in 4+ inch heels nearly every day. Today she had on 5-inch sandals with clear straps around her toes and ankles. Her silky bronze skin was pronounced on her smooth legs, which were bare to the thigh due to the sundress she was wearing, red with small white dots.
"Oh, that is ok. You see, I have my strapping 18-year-old boy with me, and he's all the company I need." My mother gave the man a big toothy grin, and he returned it.
She was an expert at declining suitors and making them completely unaware they were being soundly rejected. It was 1 part smile, 1 part wit, and 2 parts cleavage; she would flash the whitest smile in history and bat her long lashes over lush brown eyes in the sweetest way. Then the deep cleavage she nearly always had would come into play. Case in point, the sundress she had on now was about 80% of the attorney's attention. Mom's rack was a sight to behold, and I would never claim it was natural, but with two D-Cups that stood proud on her chest with zero sag, they looked three sizes bigger.
As she turned from the man and looked at me, those brown eyes and smile hit me. With her oval face framed by long, dark brown locks, full lips, a strong jaw, and minimal makeup, I nearly shivered. Mom patted me on the shoulder and gestured for me to follow her, and I did, dutifully. In her heels, she was a head taller than I, because I had inherited her height, but her heels nearly always put her standing over my measly 5'3".
Making our way to the rental car, I watched her stride forward, and the click of her heels echoed behind her and right through my very soul. My eyes flicked to the path in front of me and to her ass, praying for a little breeze to give me a peek.
This was how low I had fallen. Almost three years ago, I started down a very steep path that has now left me absolutely infatuated with my mother. I honestly can't tell anymore if it is her body, the fact that she is my mother, or if I am really in love with her. It was most likely all three. I just know that she is my world, and that has gotten worse over many months of degrading behavior. In fact, I think it has backfired on me as I tried to stay home during my college years, yet she has insisted I move into a dorm hours away at a four-year institution.
So this trip was going to mean two things: first, to spend the last few months I had with my mother and try my best to avoid abusing myself with the mental image of my mother's body. I didn't hold out much hope for the second because I didn't really want to, but I also could not be caught.
As I sat down in the car, Mom turned to me and said, "How are you doing, bebẽ?"
From time to time, I was awed by her accent. Born in Cuba and moving to the U.S. with a child, she had a voice to melt most of my muscles. Think Sofia Vergara from Modern Family, but less over the top and more of a low purr that would harden any cock within earshot. It was difficult for people to believe that she was my mother. I only looked as if I had a perpetual tan and not much more. But she was my mother, and I was very thankful for that.
"Yeah, I mean, I never knew him," I muttered.
"I think I always thought you might get a chance to talk to him," she replied.
It stayed quiet after that as we made our way back to the motel. I tried not to look at her legs as the skirt of her dress rode a little higher as she drove.
Back in the motel room, I lounged on one of the queen beds, thinking about what lay ahead of us. We were not just on vacation; my mom was taking me to a top attraction in half of the states in the continental U.S. on a cross-country trip. So we have 24 stops ahead of us, 24 rooms just like this one, and all sorts of 1-on-1 time ahead of us. All of which was paid for by my father's modest estate, which he inherited from his uncles. My mother had spent some time explaining that the lawyer was never able to locate my father to tell him about his estate and only discovered him after his accident. Besides missing out on my mother and myself, it was probably his worst mistake.
Mom came out of the bathroom, threw the clothes she had been wearing on her suitcase, and made her way over to the door. She is wearing some tight jeans with rips up the front and a tight, spaghetti-string tank top.
"Just heading out to see old friends, then I am all yours," she cooed at me, and I blushed.
"Sounds great, Mom!" I chimed back.
Then I had one more view of her ass as the door shut. I had to admit I felt tortured; when I first discovered my lust for my mother, I felt I wasn't even given a chance to stop it. She was always wearing things like tight wrap dresses, low tops, and short skirts, and from the laundry, I knew every piece of her underwear was fancy lingerie. I just hadn't noticed it before, and once I did, it was an addiction. Definitely unhealthy for me, but it felt so good.
Speaking of which, as if by fate, there was a set of lacy black panties perched on my mother's suitcase. It was not going to be my day.
I rolled out of bed, snatched the panties, and climbed right back into the bed, kicking my pants and underwear off. Holding my mother's panties up to my face, I inhaled deeply, and my cock rose to full mast within seconds. I was a show-er, and my 8-inch cock measured nearly that when flaccid but became impossibly thick once I was fully erect. I also had to be careful when using any of my mother's clothes to relieve myself; I tended to produce quite the load when jerking off to her. The first time I used a pair of her panties, I lasted only a couple of minutes and produced just three measly streams of cum. Now I could blast six thick ropes, on average, and completely coat whatever I was using.
It had been a few days since I had gotten a chance to whack off. With all of the packing and planning, and as soon as the black silk wrapped around my cock, I felt my cock pulse with anticipation.
The art of wrapping my cock in panties was one I had mastered; the smooth fabric raced up and down my erection as images of my mother flashed across my mind. A person could just use the panties to wipe up the mess after. But I positioned the garment so that once I came, it would paint the gusset that was previously up against my mother's pussy.
My hand was working the head of my cock now, and I felt my balls begin to tighten, so I picked up the pace. It felt so good, and I knew I would only hold on a little longer.
The first rope shot from my cock, and my whole body clenched as more and more followed. Looking down, I saw that I had produced enough cum to saturate the panties, but it was still hard. Chuckling, I made my way to the bathroom and dropped the soiled fabric on the floor. It was time for a shower, a cold one.
It was refreshing to have the water calm my lust and wash away some of the mental conflict between the travel, the lawyer, and a mind-numbing orgasm. Stepping out of the shower, I merely slipped between the sheets and was out in seconds.
- Clara -
I opened the door a crack and peeked in to see my son asleep on the bed nearest the door. The lack of light had tipped me off that he might already be in bed; it must have been a long day for him. I slowly made my way towards the bathroom so I could wash off the grime of the bar.
Meeting my girlfriends from before I had Raymond was fun, but I was definitely not used to the party crowd anymore, nor all the attention. I was sweaty and smelled like booze, so as soon as I flicked the bathroom light on, I slipped out of my clothes to get under some warm water. There had been a lot of ribbing about being single with no "action," and each one had called me stunning. Vanity was my weakness, so I know how good I look, but that part of me never recovered from when Raymond's father left; sex just hadn't held much appeal anymore. After a few years, it was easy to brush off the few suitors and focus on my career and my son. Stepping out of the soothing water, I dried off and confirmed a nightie I had placed there earlier in the day was still there. With my son sharing a room, I had to be cautious.
Reaching down, I picked up some panties off the floor and slipped them up my legs. As soon as the silk touched my skin, I knew something was wrong. The silk material seemed to suction between my legs, and I felt a shiver go up my spine.
"Gah!" I pulled the garment away from my body and down my legs.
Raymond must have soaked them when he showered, but looking at my panties, there was a white coating inside them and all over the outside. I lifted them up, took a sniff, and dropped them; there was only one thing that smelled like that.
"That dirty little...," I huffed under my breath. How dare he!
I was about to barge out and wreck his slumber when I realized that my hand and other parts of me were sticky. Grabbing some toilet paper, I took to wiping my son's... off of me. There was so much! How many times had he... Ugh! I couldn't think of why he had done this. I know that he is a young man, but surely he wasn't that... that he needed my panties. His MOTHER'S underwear!
Standing in front of the mirror, I saw my naked form. I had just spent an evening with many men trying their best to get close to me. I suppose that maybe my son might have noticed a bit of what they noticed too. Looking at my reflection, I could never deny that I was a bit vain; I had some work done. Most of it is fairly subtle, in my opinion. All except my breasts, I was an admirable size before, but nothing like what they are now. On top of that, I had indulged myself in exactly one aspect of life. My beauty was important to me, and with the work I had done, I dressed myself in the best dresses, heels, and (of course) lingerie. I loved those elegant pieces, and maybe my son had been caught up in all of that.
It might be best for me to just pack my underwear away and pretend I never found it, or maybe just sleep on it and find a way to bring it up later. I suddenly felt the weight of the day on my body, so I finally left the bathroom and lay down in bed, staring at my son as I drifted off to sleep.
My mind wandered as my dreams seemed to reach back into my memories, and a few moments played out for me:
~ ~ 2 Years Ago ~ ~
"Maldita sea!" I called out as I was frantically looking through a clean clothes pile for the missing item.
Raymond came down the stairs and asked, "What's wrong?"
"I have a work function tonight, and I can't find something I was going to wear," I explained, not even looking up at him.
"What was it?" he asked.
I finally looked up and said, "I bought some very specific undergarments for a dress I was going to wear. I have the top, and I need the bottoms." I chose my words carefully and indicated the strapless bra hung over the couch.
