Robert Taylor - Mother, may I

Sonny struggled vainly to unhook his mother's bra.

She said, "There must be a loose thread caught."

Loose thread, hell. His fingers were rubber, that was the trouble, and his cock was so hard it hurt.

His mother, Kit, wore only bra and panties. She was sitting on the chintz-covered bench before her makeup table, leaning toward the mirror, brushing mascara onto her eyelashes.

His mother, Kit, was the prettiest woman in town. Silky red hair clouded about her pouty, babyish face. The blackened lashes shaded wide brawn eyes. A sliver of pink tonguetip showed between slick, full lips. And her shape! Men in the neighborhood called her Mrs. Pretty Tits. Sonny could see her boobies in the mirror, stretching her bra like they were trying to bust out of it. The rosy crowns were pointed puffs in the transparent nylon.

He tried to keep his gaze riveted to the bra hooks and her back.

But even her back was so luscious that the sight of it had made his cock grow out like a hammer handle stretching his shorts.

He was burning with shame. My mother, he thought, my own mother! I'm horny for my own mother!

Her back was narrow, the skin color a pale gold warmed by pink. Her spine channel was deep and the bra band stretched across it like a bridge. This should make it easy to free the hooks but his rubbery fingers only managed to twist them around. And his gaze kept sliding down to her pantied behind. She really had an ass. When she walked swaying down the street, men stopped to watch her chubby ass wobble and roll.

She seemed too intent on darkening and lengthening her lashes to notice his fumbling.

She had called him into her bedroom a few minutes ago, saying that this bra was uncomfortably tight, that she would change it, but the clasp was worn, cockeyed, tangled in nylon threads.

He saw no loose threads and nothing wrong with the catch. The trouble was his shaking, rubbery, useless fingers and the distraction of the terrible surging throbs of his cock.

One of the hooks came free. The taut elastic now pulled hard at the remaining hook.

She asked, "Are you going over to Lily's?"

Lily was the girl next door.

"I guess so," he choked.

It was noon and his mother was dressing for work. This unusual circumstance was due to her boss having been away overnight. He had just phoned saying that he needed her help in the office.

Kit was executive secretary to the president of the company. Her job had supported them for years, ever since her divorce from Dad. She had even paid off the mortgage on this little house on the edge of town.

He tried to squeeze the elastic bra band against the hook.

She said, "I may be late tonight. If I don't phone, make supper for yourself. Or eat at Lily's."

His throat felt tight. He could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Will you be back in time for the movie?"

"I don't know."

The movie at the Strand tonight was supposed to be really funny. They had been looking forward to seeing it together.

He knew that most guys hated going to the show with their folks. But Mother-Kit-was great to go places with. Like, in a funny movie she whooped with laughter, and everybody seemed to laugh with her. She caught every joke.

Besides, he was proud to be seen with her, Kit being so cute and always well dressed. Everybody ogled her. Now that he was taller she was almost like his date, because she was small and curvy, and the way she held his arm when they went into the theater made him really feel good.

Lily, the girl next door, sometimes got mad and called him a momma's boy. But he didn't care.

Miraculously, the bra hook came free.

The slippery nylon band escaped his fingers as the weight other titties jerked the bra harness. The shoulder straps sprang loose.

She pressed an arm to the cups, holding them in place while she continued brushing mascara onto her eyelashes.

She asked, "Why don't you take Lily to the movie?"

Looking over her shoulder, Sonny could see under her gaping bra cups to her swelling white breasts and thick pink nipples.

His cock gave a harsh jerk. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. It was a hot day in July but the air felt cool compared to the burning inside him.

"Take Lily to the show?" he asked.

She gazed up at his mirror image. "She'd like you to take her."

"Well, I don't know." The thought had never occurred to him. He and Lily were more like buddies. He helped with work in her father's greenhouse, and ate a lot of meals with them, and Lily was his best friend, but they didn't exactly date. He said, "Maybe if you get home in time, we could all three go."

Frowning, she returned to her makeup. She was more negligent now in holding the bra cups against her bosom. He eyed the lovely melon shapes, noting how they were drawn out to pink points. Gosh, if the guys who called her Mrs. Pretty Tits had this view, they'd bust their pants.

She said, "Lily would rather you take her alone."

He recalled that lately his mother had dropped several hints about his taking Lily places.

Kit put away her mascara box and said, "I have to dress now. Kiss me goodbye and buzz off."

He bent and kissed her downy cheek. The bra no longer hid anything. He could see all of her succulent breasts. This close, her nipples looked almost an inch long.

He suddenly got the idea that she wanted him to see them! Nor did he miss the shadow of her pussy hair, the arc of it under her belly fluffed out against the transparent panties, auburn curls glinting through.

He turned away toward the door.

He was almost out of the bedroom when Kit said, "Sonny, in the movies put pour arm around Lily. Girls like that. And kiss her.

He choked, "But I don't-you see-Lily isn't the kind-"

"Sonny, she's a girl. Surely you've noticed those pretty breasts jiggling about under the t-shirts she wears."

Kit's voice was sharp, rebuking him.

She continued, "Sonny, you're a handsome boy and Lily is crazy about you. When you kiss her, well, caress her body. She'll protest but she'll love it."

"But Mother, Lily is more like a friend-"

"Baloney. You go next door right now. Kiss her. See if I'm not right."

He edged out to the hall, toward the kitchen, blushing furiously.

Kit heard the kitchen screen door snap shut as her son went out to the back porch.

She burst into tears.

She could still feel the burn of his kiss on her cheek.

She thrust up from the makeup table, letting her bra fall as she hurried, breasts jiggling and bouncing, to the bathroom, the one room in the house with a lockable door. Shutting it and setting the latch, she went peeling down her panties to the john and squatted on it. She brushed the panties to her ankles, kicked them away.

Then she spread her legs and fingered into her juicy twat.

Masturbation was such a lousy substitute! Last night she had slipped into Sonny's bedroom when he was asleep, naked and uncovered because of the hot weather. She had gazed long at his limp cock.

Finally she had bent down and kissed the rosy tip. Her tears had splashed on his thighs. She had to stop this insanity.

The trouble began a month ago when one of her two steady shack-up guys, a man much younger than she, had gotten married. They had fucked the night before the wedding. She had phoned him since but the bastard was resolved on fidelity to his luscious new bride. So scratch him. Then, two weeks later, her other guy, a salesman working out of her office, was transferred to a distant state. He had been ideal, about her age, which was thirty-nine. He was a robust cocksman and an amusing companion. But he was married, had a flock of children, and was hundreds of miles away.

Oh, there were other men and she was pretty enough to attract them. But while surveying the field she had seemed to draw closer than ever to Sonny.