Howwee And His Mother - Sex Stories

Howwee And His Mother

... Sneakers. No make up, and she obviously hadn't done anything with her hair. She finally finished with the pictures. I decided that if she hadn't had a problem earlier she shouldn't have one now so I started to undress. &#034Don't you want to read these first?&#034 &#034After I done dressing.&#034 &#034I'll read them to you okay?&#034 &#034Whatever.&#034 The helmet went first. I stopped with the shoulder pads, and loosened my pants, slide them off over my cleats, and stood up. We wore leggings back then. I stood there like a half naked giant before moving next to my mother as she tried to read the newspaper. &#034Where's the picture?&#034 We were touching. I reached across her to my dresser just brushing those fucking huge goddamn milk bags. She seemed to loose her place for a bit. It was a nice photo taken from the end zone when I was on about the twenty. I thought it might be time for a little show business. &#034It was terrible out there. Wet, cold, muddy, guys sliding around trying to take me down into that slop. Couldn't even keep your hands clean.&#034 I almost never talked to my folks about games. Good, bad, or otherwise. But it just seemed like the thing to do, and she tensed up a bit more. &#034That one guy almost tackled me. I'd have gone head first into all that slime. Mouth and my face would have covered in mud. He might have even hurt me.&#034 I'd had a concussion earlier in the year after getting kicked in the head. Didn't remember anything about the game. ...

... &#034I'm always so worried that you'll get hurt.&#034 She had of course stopped reading, and we were facing each other. Very close. I looked into her eyes trying to read her soul. No one spoke. No one moved. We were hardly breathing. &#034Here mom.&#034 I brought the newspaper I was holding with both hands up to give it back to mom. The backs of both my hands lightly touched her nipples. Nothing. She was like a statue. Tough to get a good hard on when you're wearing a jock, but I had one trying to break free. She wanted some. How much. Touching. Naked. Clothed. She couldn't actually want to go all the way. Just a hug. Yeah. There we go. &#034I'm glad you're my mom, and that you're proud of me.&#034 I put my arms around her and brought her to my chest. &#034I love you mom.&#034 &#034I love you too honey.&#034 I hugged her tightly enough that her melons were smashed against me. She had her arms around me too, and she was pulling as well. I didn't know. It seemed so fucking close. Why hadn't she dressed differently if she had something in mind? &#034You want me to finish getting undressed mom?&#034 &#034Ah...no...just hold me.&#034 That seemed simple right? I'm sixteen years old in my bedroom with mom, half dressed in a football uniform, with only leggings, cleats, and a jock covering me from the waist down. Holding the hug I slowly moved us around a bit until my backside was visible in the mirror over my dresser. Now mom could now see my bare ass. Her hands were stroking my back, and ...