Close Knit 2: Dirty Little Mom

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          I watched Faith, my mother, jogging on the treadmill in our sunporch, her chest bouncing some behind her gray sports bra. Navy blue leggings hugged her shapely legs and her firm, round bottom, and her lustrous auburn that fell past her shoulders bounced, shining healthily beneath the sunlight. With her eyes shut and a pair of earbuds blaring Rock into her ears, Mom was in her own little world, unaware of me watching her—admiring her—from the doorway.          I wondered if she’d thought of me—of us—since our brief, orgasmic escapade last Friday night. I also wondered if what we’d done was a mistake. Was I aware that it was wrong? Sure. In fact, it was the wrongness of the situation that made it so hot. But was it a mistake? That I wasn’t so sure of. Since then Mom had been her normal self. She looked at me the same, talked with me the same, joked with me the same. She was normal as far as I could tell. I shrugged.          “Vinnie…?”          The sound of my name dispelled my trance-like state. I blinked, focusing on my mother istanbul travesti who was standing before me, hips cocked, a white towel hanging from her left shoulder. Christ, the woman exuded sex. I swallowed, resisting the urge to push her against the sunporch wall and drill her until she collapsed. Now that was a workout.          “Gonna let me through?” She said, smiling that gorgeous smile of hers. If her current attitude had been an act, she deserved a fucking Oscar.          Apparently I, standing in the doorway, had been obstructing her way out of the sunporch. “Sorry, ma,” I said, smiling, and stepped aside to let her through. She walked by, patting my cheek as if a master would their pet.          “Thanks, kiddo,” Mom said cheerfully. “I’m gonna grab a shower. Make sure you tidy up the kitchen before your dad gets home. I think he’s cooking tonight, and you know how he gets.”          I felt an excited smile spread my lips. Dad was an awesome cook, moreso than Mom. I literally prayed that he was making his famous lasagna. istanbul travestileri “Awesome, I’ll get right on it,” I said, nodding. Mom pecked my cheek, and I quickly took in her scent. She smelled of shampoo and sweat, which together created a delicious musk that enflamed my sixteen year old hormones. She bounced away, and I watched her go with amorous eyes.          As I was filing plates into the dish washer, something occured to me…          I was a fucking idiot.          I’d been home alone with Mom all day due to a Teacher’s Work Day, and my father was off to work. Where the hell was my mind? I’d had her to myself all day and it never occurred to me to pounce her and finish what I’d started Friday night. I smacked a soapy hand against my forehead and swore. Real observant there, jackass, a voice in my head scolded.           I paused and listened. I could hear the shower running in my parents’ room. Mom was still bathing… I could take advantage of that, I thought. A part of me reasoned that it was real risky trying travesti istanbul my hand at fucking her a second time, that the first time was probably a fluke, a one-time thing. But the horny side of me didn’t really care, and already had my legs moving out of the kitchen and towards my parnents’ bedroom. I liked my horny side.          I made no effort to be quiet. I simply walked into their bedroom and ambled casually across the room, opening their bathroom door as if I’d been walking in on my mom for years. I stood in the door way a second, staring at the dark blue shower curtain my mother was bathing behind. The plan was to just take her. Step up, pull the curtain to the side, and take her. Sounded easy enough. And hell, according to one of her stories I’d read online, this was one of her fantasies.          Stripping down to nothing, my boner springing free, I stepped forward and pulled the curtain to the side. My eyes widened a bit, and my mouth fell open. Mom wasn’t there… what the hell? Mom wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? As I began to turn around, she confirmed where she was. Behind me.          “Bad Vinnie,” Mom said. I almost jumped out of my fucking skin. The bathroom door closed, and there she was, her shapely naked form leaning against the wall behind her.

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