Me and Mom Fisting - Sex Stories

Me and Mom Fisting

... the sink to wipe the counters. I hesitated, then adjusted my half-baked plan. After depositing my bowl and spoon in the sink, I stepped in behind Mom. Stage fright grabbed hold of me and I stood behind her, struggling, trying to decide whether to make my move or run. Mom was slowly wiping the counter as if I wasn't there. I noticed she was swirling the dishcloth around in a circle, wiping the same area over and over. That decided me. "I need something out of the drawer," I said. Before Mom could react, I knelt down and thrust my hand between her boots, grasping a drawer handle about level with the hem of her skirt. I pulled the drawer out about four inches, muttered that it was the wrong drawer and pushed it back in, then reached up to grasp the next drawer. Amazingly, Mom didn't move, even when my forearm pushed her skirt up several inches to her knees above the top of the boots, despite the obvious fact that I couldn't see what was in the drawer since the long skirt blocked my view. I pulled the next drawer out a few inches, took a desperately needed deep breath, and pushed it back in. "That's not it either," I said. I reached up to the next drawer handle, my arm scr****g between Mom's legs, right about where they thickened into thighs. "This is it," I cried, as if that justified my ridiculous action. I had to straighten up a little to pull the drawer open which angled my forearm higher and wedged it firmly between the thickest part of Mom's thighs, dragging the heavy ...

... skirt with it. This time I pulled the drawer open slowly and didn't stop until its face hit the front of Mom's pelvis. I paused, relishing the feel of Mom's thighs pressing on my arm, a little stunned about what I'd done and that she wasn't doing anything. "Where is that stuff?" I cried, pushing the drawer slowly back in, scr****g my arm through her thighs. I reached up to the top drawer and grasped its handle, the middle of my forearm pressing against Mom's panties. The heat on my arm was incredible. I stood up straight, pulling my arm up with me but keeping hold of the drawer handle, thereby jamming the crook or my arm firmly into Mom's hot crotch. Mom stopped wiping the counter and pressed her hands onto the counter to steady herself but I still had to grab her shoulder her as she teetered forward on my arm and slid down to my wrist. Her breathing became harsh, matching my own. I moved closer to smell her hair and kiss her cheek but stopped when I saw her eyes were closed. Instead of kissing her, I let my left hand slide down to her waist and brought it up under her arm to cup her breast. Squeezing gently, I pushed my right shoulder into Mom's back, nudging her off my wrist and onto the back of my hand. Mom squeezed her thighs tight, whether involuntarily or in appreciation, or both, I didn't know. Mom expelled her breath in an abrupt huff as her shaking thighs clamped hard around my hand. I was about to turn my hand over so I could cup Mom's pussy when the front door opened ...