The Kindness of Strangers - Sex Stories

The Kindness of Strangers

... focused on the gold string bisecting her buttocks. Parted, the wrinkled skin around her asshole was visible, the thong provisioning some dignity as it kissed her anus before slipping between the folds of labia, indeed as I'd previously ascertained, hairless.

The vision caused my lungs to suck in air audibly, and possibly having heard the reaction, Mom stirred, her head lifting before I managed to secret myself behind the safety of the curtain lest she look in my direction. I held my breath and dared not move in case I made further sound, waiting an interminable amount of time before I hazarded another peek.

Like a common creep, I peered cautiously around the edge of the curtain and incrementally her body came into focus once more. A foot, this time toes up, followed by her shin and the length of her glistening leg. And there it was again, having turned to present herself to the sun, a mound of pussy sitting snug under a small triangle of golden nylon. I risked poking my head out further and to my relief found her face hidden beneath a sun hat allowing my eyes free reign to admire the rest of her body. Mistaken as to the style of the bikini, I noticed it was more of a one-piece, with somewhat of a sling linking the crotch with an equally small amount of material cupping her boobs.

Mother or not. Incestuous and morally ambiguous be dammed, I moved a hand to the rapid swelling at my groin and encouraged the erection, stroking it horizontally in my jeans. 'So wrong,' ...

... I whispered to myself, pinching the shaft of my cock before slipping my fingers across to the fly and unzipping.

My eyes never left her body as I eased the hard-on from the opening in my jeans, gripping it vice-like as Mom seemed to swat an unseen insect from her chest, her hand coming to rest on her belly to ever so subtly caress her flesh. Nothing at the Museum of Art could've been so beautiful. The La Brea Tar Pits couldn't have fascinated me more than what I'd found in my childhood backyard. Furiously I beat my length as I zeroed in on her pussy. Thighs separated just enough to reveal all. Folds pressed tightly against the thin material. Her body positioned perfectly as if staged for an audience at this very window. Me? A mother's private showing for her son?

With my face almost brushing the curtain, my body hunched as I jerked off and so close to orgasm, I began to take stock. No, you idiot, I berated myself. She had no idea I was even home. Probably didn't expect me for hours. She was just a woman enjoying a moment alone in the privacy of her house and here I was like a common pervert spying and masturbating. All of a sudden, it didn't seem so satisfying. The attraction remained. The excitement of the taboo endured, but guilt overrode pleasure and I forced myself away from the window with a jolt, knocking a side table in the process and sending a vase crashing to the floor.

The noise could've awakened the dead. Knowing full well Mom would've been alerted, I ...