The Rambler part 2b - Sex Stories

The Rambler part 2b

... reached over the crest of her buttocks, stretching tightly across her cheeks, creating the entrance to an intriguing cave which I explored with my longest finger. In an attempt to reach further into this dark crack, the crook of my long finger tugged Mom's panties down the lower slope of her bottom, a retreat she tried to stop by twisting her hips in an effort to pin her panties more tightly to the seat but this only helped my effort by rubbing the arches of her panties over her hips, the easier for them to slide down. In a final quick slip, the waistband of Mom's panties burst down her bottomly slope and crashed into the crease between thigh and cheek, my fingers slipping underneath, between her legs. As if in a movie, no pun intended, the lights suddenly dimmed and the second movie started. Mom quickly twisted back onto her side, clamping her legs shut and trapping my hand. A minute passed while everyone shifted about new positions, except for me. I was rigid. Mom turned to face me and I braced for the rebuke that hadn't been delivered before but was sure to arrive now. I prepared to defend myself. Those dark eyes sought mine. "Kiss me," she whispered. I hestitated, unsure if I'd heard her correctly, the words still sinking into my brain. She opened her mouth, to speak again or to receive my kiss, I don't know. I kissed her, sinking my tongue into her mouth, aware that my hand was still firmly clamped between her legs, reaching through to press against the sweet, hot ...

... dampness of her pussy. As our long kiss continued, my fingers became hot and slippery, allowing them to move more easily, though in such tiny movements, with the slight rocking motion of our bodies as we sought to meld our mouths together. When we finally stopped kissing, Mom turned her face back to the movie and I kept my hand where it was. After a bit, sensing that this transgression was to be allowed, I slipped my hand from behind, slid it up and over her thigh, and nestled it back into place under her panties, this time from the front with my fingers slipping deeper into her groove and my palm cupping her mound. I squeezed my prize in a pulping massage and, as Mom continued to watch the movie as if nothing was out of line, I nestled into her neck and whispered in her ear. "If you were mine, I'd parade you down the street in this short skirt knowing every man we passed was staring at your gorgeous legs, to the ire of the women who knew their men were torn between watching your legs or your breasts bursting against your sweater, converting it from a mere clump of material into a work of art." And while I whispered, I slipped my slippery fingers all over her soaking, rubbery lips, teasing them apart and even dipping inside, briefly tasting their clammy grip. "And at parties, while the women gathered in the kitchen to ready the evenings treats, I'd hold you back with the men, standing behind you and sliding your dress slowly up your thighs until just a glimpse of your panties ...