The Kindness of Strangers - Sex Stories

The Kindness of Strangers

... interested.'

'"Interested", Mom, this is amazing!' I exclaimed as I noticed another piece, a sculpture of a thin humanoid figure. 'It can't be,' I moved closer to further examine. 'I think it's a Giacometti,' I shook my head. 'This alone could be worth more than this house,' I estimated.

'So, I did good?' Mom questioned and I turned to her once more, wanting to hug her, to kiss my appreciation.

'You did good,' I found myself uncontrollably grinning and it seemed it was enough for her, returning me with her smile, those beautiful dimples appearing in her cheeks, lines of happiness at her eyes as I explored further the myriad artworks the house had to offer.

*

'So, we're allowed to be here, right?' I somewhat belatedly enquired as we strolled from the house out toward an infinity pool, security lights illuminating our way.

'It's fine,' Mom assured me as we looked out toward the last remnant of the sun disappearing over the horizon, the city, a sea of candles floating in the darkness below us.

'How awesome would it be to live here!?' I proposed as Mom took a seat and I joined her on the lounge, the pool lit from below the surface casting liquid shadows across her face and surroundings.

'Well, when you're a famous artist, you'll have something just as nice,' she envisaged. 'And I expect an invitation to visit,' she added, laughing.

I nodded slowly and looked back at the house; the Jackson Pollock still visible through the windows before I again stared ...

... out across the darkened city.

'It's a far cry from a college dorm,' I scoffed and felt a hand upon my knee, turning to see her smiling.

'You'll find somewhere,' she whispered.

'It's not fake!' I stated, looking into her smile and then watching her frown.

'What? The art?'

'No. Something Dad would say,' I divulged. 'He said your smile was fake. A show for your clients. But it's not, is it?' I questioned, more a statement and she shook her head. 'He said everything about you was fake, from your hair to your smile, to your...' I paused.

'To my what?' Mom looked puzzled and mystified, and I allowed my eyes to drop from hers to her chest. 'Oh, no. Seriously? Really!' She laughed, scrunching her nose and I felt her hand leave my knee, rising between us. 'Give me your hand,' she grinned.

'What?' I breathed.

'Come on,' she took hold of my wrist, lifting it as she straightened on the lounge. 'Does this feel fake?' She cupped my hand under her breast, allowing the weight of her left boob to settle in my palm, her nipple hardening under my touch through the thin cotton tank top.

'I...' I didn't know what to say. I'd never felt fake boobs before, so I had no comparison, but to me, it felt pretty good, shaking my head slowly as she studied my eyes.

'Right!' she allowed my hand to fall away. 'Your father!' She rolled her eyes before laughing once more. 'I wish I could afford fake boobs!' She scoffed and I wanted to tell her she didn't need them, that hers were ...