J Bradley: Mom going down

"Oh, my," she said. "I shouldn't be undressing like this in front of you. Honey, turn your head and don't look."

Bruce choked out a response and turned his head. Monica drew back from the crack in the bathroom door, because he seemed to be looking right at her. And then she remembered the mirror over the dresser right next to the door.

Vicky had planned that, too. She planned everything. Bruce wasn't looking at her, but he was sure looking at her reflection in the mirror.

Monica saw his eyes go wide and moist. She saw his quick intake of breath. She saw the way his prick started to fill and lift almost immediately, stretching out the front of his pants.

He made a quick motion with his hand to hide it. That didn't work. He scooted the thick shaft around in his pants until it was pointed up toward his belly.

Monica felt her cunt squirm and writhe. She sucked in her breath silently and held it. She stared at the line of his solid cock as hard as he stared at the naked image of Vicky in the mirror.

Vicky's tits jigged and swung freely as she slipped out of the dress she was wearing. She wore transparent panties. They were flesh colored. They cupped the round, tight balls of her asscheeks like a second skin and didn't hide the shadow of her deep cleft.

Per naked, bald cunt showed clearly through them, lips and slit and all, puffy and soft.

Bruce's cock pounded in his pants. It swelled to that huge dimension and throbbed, the rigid line of it clear, right before Monica's hungry eyes.

She didn't have to worry about being spotted behind the door. Bruce wasn't looking at the door. She could have stuck her hand through the crack and waved at him, and he wouldn't have seen her. He stared fixedly at Vicky, watching her move and posture with calculated casualness as she made ready to slip into the red, slinky mini.

"Okay, honey," she said after a moment. "You can turn around now."

Bruce turned, just as if he hadn't already seen that Vicky's tits were still uncovered. He stared at them and licked his lips and didn't even try to hide his monstrous hard-on any more.

"Oh, dear – I spoke too soon," Vicky laughed lightly, pretending she had to struggle with the dress. She looked at him. Her tits hung out. She fumbled with the material and finally brought it up over her pointed tits, snugging it around them, making the nipples poke through the red satin.

"I… I'm sorry, Aunt Vicky," Bruce stammered.

She zipped it up the back, making her tits thrust as she bent her arms behind her.

"Sorry for what, honey?"

"For-for turning around too soon like that."

"Well, it's not your fault, Brucie. I didn't know this tight thing was going to give me trouble like that. Besides, I'll bet a big boy like you doesn't really mind getting a good look at his Aunt Vicky's tits. Do you? Huh?" she teased, smiling at him. "Do you, Bruce? Come on, tell me the truth."

He broke into a wide, nervous grin. "Heck no," he said.

"Anyway, my tits look exactly like your mother's, and I'll bet you've seen her tits lots of times, haven't you?"

"N-No," he said.

"Hey, honey, you don't have to kid me. This is Aunt Vicky. I know better than that. Come on, tell me – you've snuck a look now and then, haven't you?"

"Well… yeah," he choked, grinning again, his face flushed.

"And not just her tits, either, I'll bet. Have you seen her cute little ass?"

"N-Not really, Aunt Vicky," he stammered.

"Well, we'll take care of that right now, honey. You look at mine all you want. It's just like your mother's."

She lifted the hem of the dress in back and turned her ass toward him, flipping the satin material up. She gave him a good moon, thrusting her asscheeks out, making everything plainly visible through the transparent panties.

"Aunt Vicky!" he gasped.

She laughed lightly and dropped her skirt. "Oh, don't Aunt Vicky me, honey. I know about guys your age. You aren't shocked. If you're so shocked, how come you've got such a big hard-on in there?" she said, pointing at his crotch.

Bruce looked down. He went red all over. He stood there and didn't know what to do.

"I-I'd better go do my homework now, Aunt Vicky," he stammered finally. He made a move toward the door, and Vicky stepped in front of him, stopping him.

That sultry, sexual fever sizzled from her eyes and reduced him to a rooted, flustered, awkward boy. Monica watched him. She had the sudden urge to fling open the bathroom door and charge into the room and put an end to this.

It was her son – her Bruce and her twin sister was ready to move in for the kill. She didn't want to watch. And yet she felt as helpless as he did.

She clamped her hand over her cunt and squeezed hard, trying to still the tingling in it. She only made it worse. And she knew she was going to sit right there and watch it happen.

"No you don't, honey," Vicky said, lifting her arms to him. "You can't walk out on me like that, Brucie. You'll give me a complex."

"What – I don't know what you mean, Aunt Vicky," he stammered, swallowing hard again.

"Why, you're going to make me think you're afraid of me. Are you afraid of me, honey?"

"No – of course not," he choked.

She looked at him teasingly. "Oh, I see. Just of girls in general, is that it?"

"No," he said more firmly. "Heck, I'm not afraid of girls."

"How about Nancy?"

"Gosh, no, Aunt Vicky!" he laughed shakily.

"Have you kissed her yet?"

"Sure. Lots of times," he added, not too convincingly.

"What else have you done with her? Have you seen her tits?"

"She's not that kind of girl!"

"Have you felt them? Did you ever put your hand on her big soft tit and give it a good squeeze? Huh?"

"S-Sure," he said. She looked at him with twinkling eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment. He glanced away finally. "Well, no. I brushed against it once, though."

"Now we're getting somewhere. Now we're getting the truth. You don't have to be afraid of the truth with me, sweetie. I'm not like your father. There's nothing to be ashamed of if you aren't a big fucker like he is yet. He had to start sometime too, you know."

Bruce choked over the word, but he came up grinning. "You really mean that, Aunt Vicky? I mean, that it doesn't make me a pansy because – because I haven't ever… you know."

"Fucked?" Vicky said, mouthing the word with her full, sensuous lips.

"Yeah!" Bruce gasped, growing bolder. "Fucked!"

"Of course not, darling," Vicky said, putting her soft, warm palm to the side of his face.

"Gosh, Aunt Vicky – I sure like talking to you. You don't know how good that makes me feel. Dad rides me about it until I can't stand it. And then I end up looking at Nancy in a way I know I shouldn't be looking at her, wanting to do things and all, and then I feel dirty and guilty."

He went on. Monica listened. She felt sorry for him. He was almost pitiful. He had more hang-ups than she would ever have believed. They were all there for her to see before, but Vicky was bringing them all out in the open, where Monica could see them.

She suddenly didn't mind any more that Vicky was going to cherry him tonight. He needed it. He needed it badly.

Vicky stood right in front of him after he'd talked himself out. She looked up at him and slowly twined her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.

"Bruce, you've been honest with me just now. I'm glad. But now I have to be honest with you. I didn't ask you to come in here to look at my dress."

He pulled back slightly and swallowed again. "Oh?"

"Can't you guess why, honey?"

"N-No," he stammered.

She pushed her pointed tits against his chest. He looked down at them. She moved her chest and rubbed her tits back and forth, making him feel the stiff, rubbery nipples.