The sound of water started, a rushing, splashing noise.
I shut myself in my room, restless and fidgeting.
My ears were pricked, straining to catch every tiny sound from outside.
The water stopped. The hair dryer buzzed for a while. Then, a long silence.
Had she changed her mind? Was she not coming?
Time crawled by, second by agonizing second. I stared at the door, my palms sweating, my heart pounding as if it wanted to leap out of my throat.
Just as I was about to be driven mad by my own wild thoughts, finally, from outside the door, came the faintest, most hesitant footsteps.
They stopped right outside my door.
No knock.
I held my breath.
A few seconds later, the doorknob turned with a soft click, and the door was pushed open a crack, soundlessly.
Mom stood in the dim light from the hallway, not immediately entering.
She had showered. Her hair was half-dry, hanging loosely.
Her outfit... my eyes went wide.
She really wore it.
Black stockings. The kind that aren't sheer, with a fine, matte finish. They tightly encased her long, straight legs, running all the way up to the hem of her nightgown.
The nightgown was a short, lotus-purple satin piece, barely covering the tops of her thighs. Below that was a breathtaking expanse of black.
The waistband of the stockings dug into the tops of her thighs, leaving a faint, indented line in her fair skin.
She never wore skirts this short at home, let alone with stockings.
This outfit made her radiate an awkward, forced sensuality from head to toe.
She wasn't wearing slippers. Her bare feet were on the floor, her ten plump toes curled tensely inside the stockings.
The flush hadn't left her face. Her eyes darted around, completely avoiding mine. Her hands unconsciously twisted the short hem of her nightgown, her knuckles turning white.
"Mom..." My throat was painfully dry, my voice hoarse.
I rushed over in a few steps and wrapped my arms around her.
Her body stiffened instantly. The cool, smooth satin of her nightgown and the warm skin beneath crashed into my embrace.
I held her tight, feeling the softness of her body and her slight trembling.
"I thought... you weren't coming," I mumbled into the crook of her neck, which smelled of shampoo, tightening my arms further.
Mom's body softened a little in my embrace.
She didn't push me away, just remained stiff, letting me hold her. After a long moment, she let out an extremely soft sigh. The warm breath brushed past my ear, tickling.
"You..." Her voice held resignation and a trace of weary acceptance. "When have I ever broken a promise to you?"
I loosened my hold slightly to look down at her.
Her eyes were downcast, her eyelashes damp. Her lips were pressed together, the blush spreading all the way down to her collarbones.
The neckline of her nightgown was a bit low. I could see the deep valley between her breasts and a dazzling expanse of pale, creamy skin, made even more striking against the black stockings.
"Mom..." My voice was even hoarser now, my lower body painfully hard. "Then... shall we start?"
Mom glanced up at me quickly, then immediately looked down again, her face redder.
She gently pushed me away, took two steps into the room, and turned her back to me. Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's. "...Mom... what should I do?"
She asked so directly, yet so helplessly.
I closed the door and locked it.
The soft *click* was especially clear in the quiet night.
Mom's shoulders gave an almost imperceptible shudder.
I walked up behind her, standing very close. I could smell the clean scent of her post-shower skin and a faint, very subtle, mature woman's musk.
My breath hit the back of her neck and her exposed shoulders. The fine hairs on her nape seemed to stand up, and her body trembled again.
"First..." I swallowed, my voice tight with desire. "First... like last time... use your mouth... help me out, okay?"
Mom didn't turn around, but I saw her small earlobes instantly turn a translucent red.
She was silent for a few seconds. Then, extremely slowly, she turned around.
She glanced at me. Her eyes were watery, filled with shame and anger, and a little... reproach?
But she didn't say anything. Just took a deep breath. Then, right in front of me, she slowly lowered herself to her knees.
From this angle, looking down, I could see the vast expanse of snowy white chest revealed by her nightgown's neckline, and her knees, clad in black stockings, resting on the floor.
She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly, and untied the drawstring of my pajama pants. Then, along with my underwear, she pulled them down.
My already painfully swollen penis sprang out instantly, almost brushing the tip of her nose.
Mom's eyes widened for a moment. The fierce image of it was clearly reflected in her pupils.
Compared to last time, it seemed even thicker, veins bulging, the tip oozing clear fluid.
She was stunned for just a second. Then, as if resigned, she closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again.
Then, she parted her crimson lips and, without much hesitation, leaned forward and took my burning glans entirely into her mouth.
"Hsss—"
I sucked in a sharp breath, a tingle shooting up my spine. Pleasure like an electric current raced through my body.
This time, she was much more skilled.
No teeth clashing. Her warm, wet mouth enveloped me tightly. Her tongue, though clumsy, actively licked the sensitive slit at the tip.
She began moving her head back and forth, taking me in and out. The rhythm was still a bit stiff, but much smoother than last time.
"Mmm... yes... Mom... just like that... feels so good..."
I threw my head back, unable to hold back my moans. My fingers tangled in her half-dry long hair, feeling its silkiness and the warmth of her scalp.
The wet, sucking sounds echoed in the room, lewd and clear.
She could take me deeper now. Her throat made muffled, suppressed sounds when I hit the back, her hot, tickling breath hitting my lower abdomen.
Soon, under the dedicated service of her mouth, I felt my penis swell another size in her mouth, hard and painful. Each deep thrust stretched her soft oral cavity.
After about ten minutes or so, I felt I was close.
But I remembered the main goal for tonight.
I patted her head, my voice raspy. "Mom... that's enough... stand up."
Hearing this, Mom stopped and looked up at me, somewhat dazed. Her lips were red and swollen, glistening wet, a silvery thread hanging from the corner of her mouth.
Obediently, using my leg for support, she slowly stood up. Her legs were a bit weak from kneeling, and she stumbled. I quickly grabbed her arm.
The slippery feel of the stockings came through my palm.
Holding her, I walked her to the door.
"Mom, lean against the door," I whispered in her ear, my breath entering her ear canal.
Mom's body visibly stiffened.
She looked at me, a flash of panic and retreat in her eyes.
"An... An-An..." Her voice trembled, pleading. "Maybe... we should still..."
"Mom," I interrupted, my arm circling her waist from behind, guiding her towards the door. "We're already here..."
My chest pressed against her back. Through the thin layer of satin, I could feel the warmth and softness of her body.
My breath hit her exposed nape and shoulders, making her shiver repeatedly.
I could feel her hesitation and fear.
But the arrow was already on the bowstring. How could I stop now?
One arm tightly encircled her slender waist. The other hand reached up to her round, perky bottom, clad in black stockings, and gave it a firm squeeze.
The full, springy flesh deformed in my palm. The combination of the smooth stockings and the plump flesh beneath made my blood boil.
"Mom, spread your legs," I commanded hoarsely, gently nudging the backs of her knees with mine.
Mom whimpered, as if her last resistance had crumbled.
Trembling, she obediently parted her legs.
This position forced her to lean almost completely against the door panel, her buttocks forced to rise high, forming an incredibly seductive curve.
The hem of the lotus-purple short nightgown rode up due to the posture, hardly covering anything now. The waistband of the black stockings and that small stretch of pale white thigh at the top were completely exposed. I could even see, deeper down, the full, swollen outline of her private parts, barely covered by black lace panties.
My breathing became frighteningly ragged.
I let go of the arm around her waist and eagerly thrust my already iron-hard penis from behind into the tight space between her clenched thighs.
The glans rubbed against the smooth stockings, sinking into the soft, warm flesh of her inner thighs.
"Mmmph... ah...!"
Mom threw her head back, letting out a short, uncontrollable moan.
This squeeze was deadly.
Completely different from the wet, hot enclosure of her mouth.
The flesh of her inner thighs was plump and elastic, tightly gripping my shaft. The smooth surface of the stockings rubbed against my most sensitive skin, providing a brand new, maddening sensation of tightness and slippery friction.
"Mom... squeeze tighter..." I panted heavily, my hands gripping her stockings-clad buttocks hard, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, as I began thrusting my hips back and forth.
"Ah... An-An... slow... slow down..."
Mom's voice held a sob. One hand braced desperately against the door panel, knuckles white with strain. The other hand unconsciously grabbed the doorknob.
My penis thrust rapidly between her tightly clenched thighs. Each in-and-out movement, the thick, hard shaft rubbed forcefully against the tenderest skin at the top of her thighs. It also, through her thin panties and stockings, constantly brushed against that secret hollow between her legs.
Soon, I sensed something was off.
My cock was getting coated with more and more wet, sticky fluid.
That wasn't from me.
I looked down. By the faint light from the window, I could see that between her legs, the crotch area of her black lace panties was already soaked through in a small patch, the dark wetness spreading.
The stockings were also damp, clinging to her skin, becoming sheer, outlining an even more lewd shape.
That slippery love juice, with my thrusting, was being smeared onto my penis, making faint, squelching sounds.
Mom's body was starting to react too.
At first, she endured stiffly. But gradually, her waist began to unconsciously sway slightly. Her buttocks even pushed back gently, meeting my thrusts.
Her arm braced against the door was trembling. Intermittent, sweet moans spilled from her throat.
"Mom... you're so wet..." I panted against her flushed ear, my thrusts getting faster and faster.
"Don't... don't say that... ah..." She buried her face in her arm in shame, but her body grew even more pliant, leaning back against me.
And so we remained entangled by the door, in this twisted, intimate position.
The room was filled with the muffled sounds of flesh colliding, the sticky wet noises, and our intermingled ragged panting and moans.
Sweat dripped from my forehead onto her smooth back.
I could feel my climax approaching. My lower abdomen tightened. Pleasure was building to its peak.
"Mom... I'm gonna cum... on your legs..." I announced urgently, thrusting even more fiercely.
Hearing my words, Mom's body trembled violently.
Suddenly, she reached back with one hand—not to brace against the door—but to grope behind her, and actually... grabbed my penis, which was thrusting wildly between her thighs.
Her palm was scorching hot, drenched in sweat. Through the slippery love juice, she tightly gripped my swollen glans. Her fingers even unconsciously, tremblingly, rubbed the most sensitive slit at the tip.
That stimulation was too much!
"Ugh, ahhhh—!"
My mind went blank. The floodgates burst open completely. My hips slammed forward violently. Gush after gush of hot, thick semen shot out like a bursting dam!
"Hah... ah...!"
At almost the same moment, Mom also let out a high-pitched, almost tearful scream.
Her body convulsed violently as if electrocuted. Her hand braced against the door slid down weakly. Her entire body was now supported only by my arm around her and the impact of my thrusts.
I could clearly feel, between her legs, beneath the soaked panties and stockings, a gush of warm, slippery fluid washing over my still-spurting penis and her legs.
I came a lot, and fiercely. Wave after wave.
Most of the semen shot onto her black-stocking-clad thighs and buttocks. The white, sticky fluid looked especially stark and viscous against the matte black.
Some shot onto the door panel, slowly dripping down.
But most ended up on the hand that was holding me.
Her palm, the back of her hand, between her fingers—all were coated in my thick, warm semen, dripping down her pale wrist.
We remained frozen like that, her leaning against my embrace, her body still trembling faintly.
I lay against her sweat-drenched back, gasping for breath, feeling the profound emptiness and satisfaction that follows climax.
The room was filled with a strong, pungent-sweet scent, a mixture of semen and female arousal.
After a long while, Mom slowly seemed to come back to her senses.
She lowered her head, looked at the messy white fluid covering her hand, at the chaos on her legs and the door, and began to tremble lightly.
She withdrew her hand, extremely slowly, raising it before her eyes and staring at it for a few seconds.
Then, without saying a word, she just squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her long, wet eyelashes clumping together.
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