Hang Up

It might not have happened if not for the tree. I say might not, because I like to think that some day it could have happened if the circumstances were right. Just not so soon, and not in such a way.

Soccer practice had finished later than usual, so I only had time to change my shoes before jumping on my bike and pedalling furiously, hoping to get home before I missed too much. Glancing up as I parked my bike at the rear of the house, I was pleased to see a wisp of steam escaping through the partially open bathroom window, and assured that mom was still taking her shower, before her usual evening at a single parents club she had started going to about a year and a half earlier.

She had been what turned out to be the trophy wife of a highly paid bank executive she fell in love with in her late teens. Unfortunately the marriage collapsed a few months later when she found out that he batted for the other side.

After he left to live with his lover - a window dresser at a high end department store - she discovered she was pregnant. To his credit, he voluntarily paid her a generous allowance, meaning she didn't have to work, but the trauma of his betrayal destroyed any trust she had in men, so she devoted herself to raising me.

Years later, when she joined the single parents club, I had been so happy for her that she had finally found an outside interest, that I had actually encouraged her to go.

Then about six weeks ago, something happened that made me view her in a completely new light.

After training I had gone with a group of team mates to play pool at another guy's house, picking up some beer and pizzas on the way. Before I knew it the clock said eleven thirty, and finishing my beer I said goodnight to the guys, and started the short ride home. When I was no more than twenty feet from the house, I detected a movement on the front porch, and my jaw dropped in amazement. Peering through the gloom I could just make out Mom leaning against the front door, holding her skirt up to reveal her pale thighs as she was fucked by a man I had never seen before.

As I watched, her breathless voice came clearly on the night air. "That's nice. Keep it in me until you're finished, I don't want to have to wash cum out of my clothes."

The guy gave three or four more thrusts then grunted. "That's the way babe, take it all."

As he withdrew I mounted my bike, and pedalled away quietly, my mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. Riding around the almost deserted streets, I thought hard about what I had witnessed. I had been happy that mom had a social life, but somehow it had never occurred to me that sex could be part of the equation.

There was no logical reason it shouldn't be part of her life; after all, at only thirty eight it would be years before her sexual peak waned, but in my mind it wasn't something my own mother did. The mothers of other guys, yes. My mom, no. As my mind revisited what I had seen, I suddenly found I was sporting an erection. Although I would never in a million years have thought of her in that way, I realised now that my overriding emotion was jealousy. Having seen her pale thighs spread wide, I began to wish it had been my cock inside her, rather than some nameless stranger. OK, so maybe he wasn't a stranger to her, but he was to me.

The house was in darkness when I finally returned home, and with my boner leading the way I climbed the stairs to my room, where for the first time in my life, I lay jerking off to the mental image of me fucking my mom. I felt a little ashamed when a stream of cum splattered on my belly, but despite that, no sexual experience had ever felt so good. Not even the only time a girl - actually the sister of a team mate - had let me put my hand inside her sweater to feel her bare tits as she worked her hand up and down my cock.

Over the next week I couldn't get the image of mom's bare thighs out of my mind, to the point where I was dreaming up scenarios where I might get to see more than just her legs. In bed each night I lay stroking my boner and imagining the most improbable situations, which always resulted in me spraying my cum into her pussy, rather than on my belly, which was where it really landed. At first my most frequent fantasy mirrored the way I had first seen her on the porch, except that she came dancing into my room with her skirt held high, begging me to cum inside her, and not on her clothes. The only problem with this was that it was too similar to on the porch. I could see her thighs, but there was only an indistinct shadowed area where her pussy should be. This made me think seriously of ways I might see more, even if it was only catching her in her underwear.

When the opportunity arose it was totally unexpected. I was in the yard fixing a puncture in my bike, when a faint sliding sound made me look up. The elevated bathroom window had been opened a few inches, and I could hear mom humming as she prepared for her shower. I looked ruefully at the narrow opening which was too high to see through, then a thought struck me. There was a large old apple tree about twenty feet from the house, and although my tree climbing days were far behind me, it seemed to good a chance to pass up.

Clambering carefully into the lower branches, I peered in through the window in time to see her naked back and shoulders as she shrugged out of her robe. That was all I saw that day, but it gave me the incentive to try again the next week.

This time I had a little more success. After staring for at least fifteen minutes through the six inch gap, I caught the briefest of glimpses of her firm bare breast, before she moved out of my field of view again. It wasn't much, but it was more than I had ever seen, and certainly enough to send me scurrying to my room and jerking my rod until a sticky fountain arced towards the ceiling.

The next week was even better. The window was open maybe an inch wider, and it only took a couple of minutes to set my heart racing. Mom was standing at the washbasin, and although she was mostly hidden by the frosted glass, for more than minute I gazed adoringly at her right arm and at least two thirds of her breast, including her hard brown nipple. Needless to say, my right hand worked overtime for the next half hour or more.

Each week was better than the last, until I was finally rewarded with not only seeing her entire tit, but for more than three minutes I watched it jiggle enticingly as mom brushed her teeth. I knew that no matter how much I yearned to fondle the soft globes, it was only going to happen in my fertile imagination, so I was more than content with what little she inadvertently showed. I would have liked to see below her waist of course, but that too was impossible.

I was out of breath from the furious ride home from the delayed training session, and leaning my bike against the wall, I scrambled up onto my usual perch, and moments later I was treated to a perfect side view when mom stepped from the shower, and stood fondling her superb breasts as she gazed at her image in the mirrored front of the medicine cabinet on the wall. With my eyes firmly on her taut nipple, I waited to see if she turned to the washbasin under the window. I knew from previous experience that the window was only open enough to allow the steam to escape, which meant that I could only see one tit at a time, but that wasn't top of my wish list right now. What I had been hoping for during my ride home, was that she would step back a pace allowing me to see past the washbasin, and hopefully catch a glimpse of her bush.

It was almost as if she was teasing me, because two or three times mom half turned to the window for an instant, moving away again before I could see anything. Undeterred, I tried to climb higher just in case, and disaster struck. My precarious foothold slipped, and with a shriek of terror I tumbled backwards towards the ground.

Mercifully my headlong plunge halted when my foot became jammed in the fork, and I was left dangling helplessly with my head only inches above the dirt. I cast a despairing glance at the window, where mom was staring through the now wide open window with a look of horror etched into her face. For just an instant I almost forgot my predicament in the excitement of seeing both of her wonderful tits front on for the first time, before she stepped back out of sight.

Moments later she crossed the grass towards me, fastening the tie of her short satin robe.

When she reached me she looked down with an amused smile. "Somehow Ben, I don't think that's quite the way Tarzan did it."

Any smart remark I had died on my lips as I looked up. The hem of her robe was no more than a foot above my face, and I had a perfect unrestricted worm's eye view of her slit, surrounded but not concealed by a neatly manicured bush. I groaned with embarrassment, knowing she couldn't fail to notice the sudden bulge that threatened to split my shorts, but she merely stepped closer and grasped my trapped ankle. A second groan escaped me as I felt the softness of her stomach press against my rampant cock.

She stopped trying to free my foot and stepped back. "It's harder than I expected."

I nearly choked on the double meaning of her words, but what she said next half convinced me that our minds were on different paths. "I think if we take your shoe off it will be easier."

"OK," I agreed, "But take it easy, it's a bit sore." It wasn't, but I wanted to enjoy the view as long as possible, and I sighed with pleasure as she pressed close again. Most likely it was wishful thinking on my part, but her pussy seemed to pout a little more, and her clit looked more prominent, and I looked hopefully, but in vain for any sign of moisture seeping from between the pink lips. On the pretext of trying to help, I wriggled my hips, rubbing my erection against her soft belly, hoping that if she noticed she would think of it as an unavoidable accident.

She seemed in no hurry to untie my shoelace, maintaining the close contact despite the gradually increasing movement of my hips, but eventually my foot slipped from my shoe and I tumbled to the ground, taking her with me, and her breath whooshed out as I landed on top of her. Her robe had opened partly, almost revealing her pussy again, and it only took me a moment to realise that if either of us moved more than a few inches in the wrong direction we could be in an almost perfect sixty nine.

The way mom suddenly tensed suggested that the same thought had occurred to her, but when she spoke her voice was tightly controlled. "I think you'd better get off me."

I scrambled hastily to my feet, contriving to disturb her robe enough to expose her slit as I helped her up.

"Are you OK, mom?" I asked anxiously, hoping she hadn't noticed.

She nodded and smoothed her rumpled robe. "Just a little winded. How is your ankle?" I put my weight on my foot and winced for effect. "Here, lean on me and let's get you inside so I can take a look at it," she said, putting my arm around her shoulders. Her breasts were soft and warm against my side, and I exaggerated my limp as we made our way into the house.

Pushing me onto the couch, she knelt and stripping off my sock, she rested my foot on her bare thigh as she gently rotated my ankle. "I feel a bit responsible for what happened," she said quietly. "I knew from the start that you were spying on me. Maybe I should have nipped it in the bud and kept the bathroom window closed, but it amused me to tease you with half glimpses of my boobs." She placed her hand just below her breasts, palm down. "Fortunately the window sill came to here, so you couldn't see what my hands were doing."

Under the circumstances it was totally the wrong thing for her to say, because with my foot already resting temptingly close to her barely concealed pussy, the mental image of what she implied was enough to send the blood surging back into my cock.

She looked at my growing bulge for a moment, then rose and sat beside me, leaving a respectable space between us. Afraid to break the silence, I sat looking at her, pleased to see her nipples stiffen into hard points against the thin fabric of her robe.

After a long silence, she sighed nervously. "As I said, it was as much my fault as yours that you fell, so if you want a closer look I won't stop you."

Barely able to believe what she was saying, I moved closer and opened the top of her robe to stare at her superb breasts, the tight nipples framed by her wide brown areolae. Unable to resist, I reached and placed my palm over one firm globe, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly. "I said you could look. I didn't say you could touch."

She didn't sound too convinced, so I took a chance and cupped its twin. "You didn't say I couldn't touch either,"

"Perhaps not," she sighed, "but..."

I sensed her indecision, and stroked my palms firmly across her stiff nipples. All resistance seemed to flow out of her, and she leaned back without further protest as I fondled her tits and teased the tight buds.

"Oh god." Her breath hissed out between her clenched teeth as I took her nipple between my lips and sucked urgently.

I could feel her heart hammering in her chest, and suddenly she slouched further to the edge of the couch and parted her thighs. "Feel my pussy," she urged, laying the flat of her palm on my shorts over my erection. When I hesitated she took my hand from her tit and pushed it between her legs. Partly because I was nervous about stroking my own mother's pussy, or perhaps because I was too eager to please her, I pushed into her a little too roughly, but she grasped my hand again and patiently guided my fingers to her clit. Her breathing deepened as I caressed the swollen button, and she slipped her hand into the waistband of my shorts.

Maintaining a firm grip on my prick, she moved her hips in time with my probing fingers, as I explored the moist folds of her snatch, but just when she seemed about to peak, she pushed my hand away. "Stop!"

I groaned in frustration as she rose from the couch, but my frustration was short lived. Bending at the waist, she jerked my shorts off and stripped off her robe. "I've got to have it in me," she muttered, holding my rigid tool upright, and moving astride my hips.

I watched entranced as her pussy descended on my cock, until I was buried in the depths of her wet velvet sheath. "Oh yes!" she breathed, rocking gently to scrub her clit against my pubes.

Lifting my hands to her swaying breasts, she began to move up and down, moaning softly as her cum coated my shaft. Although I enjoyed her hard nipples boring into my palms, I was unable to tear my gaze from her wet pouting pussy as she fucked me, both of us gasping in unison with each downward plunge. Her teeth were bared as her climax peaked, and my own orgasm was close.

"I'm almost there mom," I warned as my shaft started to twitch.

"Do it!" she gasped, bouncing faster. "Don't stop now! Let it go! Fill me!"

Her pussy walls tightened around my rod, and with a shuddering groan I shot a torrent of thick cum into her clenched cunt.

"God, I needed that," she panted as she climbed off, cum dripping from her well fucked hole.

She sat silently for a while, absently playing with her nipples, then she reached for my limp dick. "I don't know what made this so hard when you were hanging in the tree, but I'm glad it it did."

I didn't dare tell her that I had looked up her robe, because I was pretty sure that she believed I had only seen what she intended me to see through the window. I saw no need for either of us to justify what had happened, or why, but she seemed to think so, so I merely smiled. "Me too."

"When I saw it I couldn't resist pressing against it to tease you," she continued as if I hadn't spoken. "The problem was I was teasing myself more, and by the time we came into the house, the only thing on my mind was how to get you inside me. To tell the truth, I enjoyed flashing you through the window. I mean every woman likes to be admired, so I could do it and let you think it was an accident. Women and men are different in the way they see things. For a woman to show her breasts doesn't have to be sexual, but for men to look at them they can only think of them in one way. That's why I didn't mind you seeing mine. It amused me and it pleased you so we were both winners.

"Like everyone the very thought of fucking my son filled me with horror, but when I saw you get hard, and felt it pressing against me so close to .. well you know where .. it no longer seemed such a bad thing, and I stopped caring what anyone else thought."

Her use of the 'f' word surprised me, because I had never heard her use bad language, but I ignored it. When she remained silent for a while longer, I looked at the clock, and then at her sticky pussy. "What time do you have to go out? You may want to clean up first."

Her eyes followed the direction of mine, and she giggled. "You're right. I suppose it is a bit messy. Be right back."

I watched her delightful bottom as she headed for the stairs, and minutes later the toilet flushed, and I heard the sound of running water. When she rejoined me, she sat sideways on the couch, one bent leg raised with her foot flat on the cushion.

"You know, Ben," she said, tickling my thigh with her toes. "I don't have to go out. If you prefer, I can make dinner, then if you want to you can put it in me again. In fact I think I would like that more." She tugged at her nipples again and opened her legs wider as though in emphasis, and I nodded eagerly.

She seemed totally at ease with her nudity, making me feel silly as I stood in only my soccer shirt, with my limp dick dangling as I watched her in the kitchen. Stripping it over my head, I moved alongside her, enjoying the jiggling of her boobs as she worked.

She smiled indulgently when I tweaked her nipple. "You'll have plenty of time for that later," she admonished, turning away. "Let's eat first, then you can play with them to your heart's content."

Dinner was a hastily thrown together scrambled eggs, which I wolfed down without tasting, and without taking my eyes from her enticing globes. When we finished eating, she dumped the dishes into the sink, and seizing my hand led me towards the stairs.

In her room, I moved close and cupped her breasts from behind, pulling her tightly to me. "That's nice," she murmured, covering my hands with hers, and pressing her bottom against my erection.

Steering her to the bed, I eased her down and lay beside her. Slowly and gently I kissed her from head to toe, loitering on her nipples. The perfume of her body wash lingered on her pubes, and I slipped a finger into her slit as I moved down one leg and up the other. By the time I returned to her pussy the body wash had been overwhelmed by the much more appealing scent of her arousal, and parting the pouting lips I probed for her clit with my tongue.

My first ever taste of pussy juice was intoxicating, and I licked greedily, probing and teasing as mom's hips rose to push against my face. Abruptly she seized my head with both hands and urged me over her.

"Fuck me Ben," she gasped, wrapping her legs and arms around me to force my cock into her hungry snatch. Her pussy was so snug around my thrusting tool that I felt sure that the one time I had seen her being fucked she had done it on impulse, rather than to routinely reward the man for a pleasant evening like some women did. It made me feel good to think that, rather than giving in to virtually any man who showed an interest, she only fucked when she genuinely wanted a cock inside her cunt, and I thrust more vigorously, hoping to give her a climax she would never want to forget.

She responded instantly, clinging tight and straining up to meet me until we subsided in a deluge of mingled cum.