Donna Allen: Spying on mom

Inside his room, he unwrapped the towel from around his waist and tossed it away. He brought the box of pictures out of the closet, opened it and picked out three of his favorites.

He laid the pictures out on the bedcover so that he could see them while he was standing.

The pictures were something. They were three different women, but they all looked like his mother. Same physical type. Without looking too closely, you'd think it was her. The resemblance always made his pulse race. He arranged the pictures in order, from left to right.

The first picture showed a woman alone. Maybe in a bedroom. She was kneeling on one knee. The top of her body was covered by a blouse. Below that she was naked except for beige nylons and red shoes with high-heels. Her ass and part of her crotch were exposed to the camera. She had a gorgeous ass and sexy legs. She had her fingers in her pussy. She looked like she was masturbating.

The second picture showed a woman sucking a cock. A big cock. The man wasn't in the picture, only his big prick. The woman had no more than his cockhead in her mouth. It looked like she couldn't fit any more in. She had a look of adoration on her face. She held his balls with one hand as she sucked his cock-knob.

The third picture was the one Stuart liked best. This time, the woman in the picture was bent over with her hands on the mattress of a bed. She was blonde like his mother. She wore a white blouse, below that, nothing but beige nylons with elastic tops.

Standing behind her was a man, his hands on her waist as he fucked her. You couldn't tell whether his cock was in her ass or her cunt. Stuart had never decided which it was. Each time he looked at the picture, he thought it was one or the other. This time, he thought the man had his cock in the woman's cunt. His mother's cunt. She could be his mother. If you turned the woman's face a little bit more to the side, you could say it was his mother.

What a neat ass she had! Not too big. He didn't like them fat. His mother's ass was perfect. Did she ever fuck like that, bent over with her hands on a bed?

Stuart wrapped the nylon panties around his cockshaft and slowly jerked off as he gazed at the pictures. His eyes moved from one picture to the other and then finally he settled on the last one. His mother getting fucked by some guy standing behind her.

The only thing not right was the blouse. It would be bettor to have her naked so he could see her tits. In that position her tits would hang down like a pair of cantaloupes.

Stuart had a sudden wish to be ten years old again so that he could look at his mother without clothes. Completely stripped. Her tits and pussy and ass. Maybe wearing nothing but nylons like the woman in the photograph.

Don't be crazy, he thought, you never saw her like that. She never walked around the house like that.

But maybe in her bedroom she did. It suddenly dawned on him that he was a stupid jerk. If he wanted to see her that much, why didn't he do it? Why didn't he find a way to look at her?

He could feel the jism rising in his balls. His cock was as hard as a rock. Was there any way to spy on her in her bedroom? A hole of some kind? The hall closet? Maybe he could drill a hole through the wall between the hall closet and her bedroom.

He had to come now. He couldn't hold it back any longer. He gripped the shaft of his cock firmly and pumped himself to a finish. He gazed at the third picture. Towards the end, he decided the guy's cock had to be in the woman's ass. His mother's ass.

As he thought about that, he turned away to avoid soiling the pictures. A cock in his mother's ass. He groaned as the hot spunk blasted out of his pisshole to splatter against the night-table beside his bed. Oh fuck! he thought. Oh fuck, I've got to look at her!

Later he checked out the hall closet. There was plenty of room inside if he had to hide in there. After she went to bed, she hardly ever came out of her room again. Certainly not to look in the ball closet. She had her own bathroom adjoining her bedroom. He could drill a hole in the wall and then fix up some kind of plug for it. She had a large plant against the wall in her room, and maybe the plant would help hide the hole. I can do it, Stuart thought. It'll work, all right. His heart beat with excitement as he imagined himself looking at her.

After that Stuart thought about nothing else. All he could think of during school the next day was that hole in the closet wall. During the lunch hour, he arranged to borrow a drill from one of his friends. After school was out, he picked up the drill and hurried home with it. His mother usually walked into the house about seven in the evening, and he was certain he had enough time to finish the job.

First he had to figure out exactly where to drill the hole. He studied the wall in her room and then in the closet. That plant would help. Yes, it would work. He marked the spot and started drilling.

He had the whole thing done within minutes.

A neat hole about two inches across, made with a router bit. He could see nearly all of her bedroom: the bed, the dressing table, and even partway into the bathroom.

He cleaned up under the hole in her room and then in the closet. Then he set about making a plug out of a piece of wood and a piece of the, same wallpaper used in his mother's room that he obtained from a spare roll. It was perfect.

When the plug was in, the plant masked the wall enough to prevent any detection. Inside the closet, a person would have to look carefully to find the hole. The whole thing was done, and now all he had to worry about was getting himself into the closet without his mother knowing he was there.

When? he thought. The eagerness had put a lump in his throat. When would he have his chance? He told himself he had to have patience. Maybe it would take some time.

In fact, it took hardly any time at all. The next evening he realized there was no good reason to wait. He and his mother were in the kitchen talking about some movie they had once seen. She was always dressed to the ears during the day, but as soon as she arrived home in the evening she would change into casual clothes. Now she was wearing white shorts and a pink teeshirt. No bra, nothing under the shirt except those fabulous tits. The slacks were tight, the white cotton molding her ass, showing the rounds of her asscheeks. As she walked around the kitchen, he surreptitiously looked at her body and mentally stripped her naked.

She started talking to him about his social life. She asked him about his girlfriends. "Are you dating anyone now?"

Stuart shrugged. "Not anyone regular."

"One of these days, some girl is going to get her hooks into you."

"I don't think so."

Pat laughed. "That's what they all say. Anyway, be careful you don't get anyone pregnant. I think teenagers do too much these days."

He said he didn't think he did that much. When she asked, he told her he wasn't that experienced with girls.

"Not like some guys."

"Don't you worry about that. It's better not to run around too much."

He wondered about her sex-life. She hardly ever brought any men to the house. Once in a while a guy called for her, and she went out. Usually she met her dates downtown. So she said. He didn't mind not seeing her with men.

Just thinking about it made him jealous. He knew it was wrong, because she was entitled to a life of her own, but the idea of other men in her life still made him jealous.

They continued talking about girls and teenagers and sex. She told him that sometimes she thought maybe he was too shy.

"You don't get anything in life from being shy," she said.

Stuart squirmed. "I thought you said it was better not to run around too much."

Pat nodded. "So I did. But sometimes I have the impression, you're too shy with women."