My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 07

Holding the carrot at the thick end, I touched its thin tip lightly against the fold of skin just over mom's clitoris. Mom's body jerked slightly at the touch, and the barest gasp of air escaped her mouth. I sensed her tension -- I could feel it, and it was exquisite. All my senses were on fire.

I used the tip of the carrot to push back the fold of her skin until the salmon nub of her clit was fully exposed. It was damp, and it glistened in the bright kitchen light. I moved the carrot in small circles around the perimeter of her clit. Mom gasped again, a little louder this time, and her breasts arched toward me.

The tip of the carrot moved down, between her lips, and I maneuvered it to push a lip to the side. I'd seen my mom's pussy a lot in the previous few weeks, but never so closely and in such good light. I tickled the inside edge of her labia with the carrot. I looked up at mom's face, and she was looking down, too, at her pussy, as it gave way to my inspection. I'd seen pussies before, and like a lot of guys I never got tired of seeing more. But I'd never been held in such rapt fascination with the loveliness of a woman's raw, exposed sex as I was at that moment. It was beautiful. But I didn't want just to look at it.

I moved the carrot down and between her lips. Then I pushed it in, slowly and gently.

I wondered if I was breaking mom's rule about not touching her down there. Technically, I wasn't. The carrot was touching her, not me. I wondered if it would seem that way to mom. She didn't say anything. She kept her head down and watched as more of the thick orange carrot disappeared inside her. I took her silence to mean I wasn't breaking her rule.

The thick part of the carrot entered her, and I watched with fascination as its girth stretched her entrance further and as her pussy's wet, thin lips clutched the carrot's circumference. I gave the carrot a short, sharp push forward. Mom gasped again, and her eyes turned up to the ceiling. It was a good thing the TV volume was set so high, or my friends would have heard her.

My friends let out a cheer from the living room.

"Randy," Alex called. "You're missing a great game. You gotta get out here."

"Just a minute," I called. "We're getting the salad ready."

With that, I pulled the carrot out of mom, slowly. Its surfaced was slicked with the wet juices of her cunt, and her lips gripped it as though they didn't want to let it go.

A faint "plop" sounded when I pulled it out entirely, and mom's inner labia collapsed and folded together again. Mom's mouth was open. She was panting and looking at me with intense lust.

I wobbled the carrot in front of her face, and then I put the tip in my mouth. I sucked mom's wetness off the first two inches of it, and then I bit off the tip.

"What's up, mom?" I asked.

"Naughty boy," she whispered.

"I get it from my you," I replied.

Mom didn't have anything to say to that. I left her and walked to the cutting board. I picked up the big chopping knife and cut the rest of the carrot into thin slices. I scooped them up and put them in the salad bowl. I looked back at mom's face and she looked at me, incredulous.

"Are you serious?" she asked me.

"Yep," I said. I was. My friends had been lusting after my mom for years. They were going to get a taste of her in their salad, even if they wouldn't know it.

Mom put her legs down and hopped off the counter as I cut up the other vegetables and the lettuce and put them in the salad bowl. Mom whisked a quick salad dressing and poured it into the bowl.

"Why don't you take it to them while I make the sandwiches," I said.

I watched my mom through the space in the wall, bending and setting the salad bowl and little plates and knives on the table between my friends. They turned and stared at her, but their view wasn't as good as mine, because I could see the back of mom's lean legs under the skirt, riding up high on her thighs, as she bent over. And I knew that under that skirt she didn't wear any underwear. And, unlike my friends, I knew my mom had just been fucked by a carrot.

I wondered if she'd done anything like that before. My mom was full of surprises. I guessed she'd done a lot of things I didn't know about.

I made sandwiches in the kitchen for my friends. They probably wondered why I'd been in the kitchen so long, and I needed to do something to explain my absence from the living room. Mom came back to the kitchen and helped me finish the job.

"Hey Randy, great salad!" I heard Tucker call.

Before I could say anything, I heard Mason respond.

"Since when did you like salad, dude?" he asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you eat anything you couldn't get from a drive-through window at KFC or Taco Bell."

"Whatever," Tucker said. "But this is a good salad. It's got a good, uh, dressing."

"Thanks, Tucker," I called out from the kitchen. "Chef's secret recipe. I'm glad you like it."

If only he knew he was tasting my mom, the woman he'd lusted after for so many years.

I went back to work on the rest of lunch. When mom and I finished the sandwiches, I loaded them on a tray and took it out to the living room, where my friends were shouting about the game. The third quarter already was well underway, and the game was tied.

I wondered what mom was up to, and I wanted to get back to her, but my sense of duty to my friends made me sit and watch the game with them for a while. I ate half a sandwich. I joined them in cheering every completed pass our team made and booing the referee's penalty calls in favor of the other team.

But while I watched the game and cheered with my friends, I kept thinking about my mom. She hadn't appeared in the living room since I'd left the kitchen.

After a while I decided to get up and return to the kitchen. I swept up the tray and empty plates. As I walked back to the kitchen I realized how hungry I was -- for mom. I wanted her. I craved the sight and touch of her.

When I got to the kitchen, she was there, her back turned to me, cleaning one of the kitchen counters with a sponge. She was bent over only a little, but it was enough to show off a lot of the back of her thighs. I felt the familiar pressure in my pants as my excitement grew.

I put the empty tray and plates on the kitchen island and kept walking toward mom. She didn't turn to me; she seemed intent on what she was doing. I was aware of my chest rising and falling with sharp, short breaths; my body shivered with an overwhelming sense of need and purpose. I'd forgotten everything else; only the sight of my mom in front of me mattered.

I came up behind her and put my hands on the part of the denim skirt over her hips. She twirled around in my hips at once, her hands still down by her side. She looked at me with her mouth half open and her eyes fixed on mine. She didn't say anything.

Without even thinking about what I was doing I reached for the button at the front of her little skirt, and I unbuttoned it. With one hand I grabbed the zipper and pulled it down, and with the other hand I yanked at the skirt. It dropped below her hips before mom had a chance to respond. When she did she tried half-heartedly to stop me, putting her hands on mine, but not really trying to stop them from their task. I resisted her effort, and my hands kept pushing her skirt down.

In a few seconds her denim skirt was at her ankles, and mom stood in the kitchen naked at the waist.

I didn't stop there. As soon as the skirt hit the floor my hands went to the bottom of her camisole, and they pulled it up fast. Mom's hands didn't seem to know what to do. They didn't stop me. Instead, her arms and hands moved up to accommodate the sweep of the camisole over her shoulders and head. I pulled the little top up and off her. And then mom was completely naked.

She stood just a few feet out of view from my friends in the living room. They couldn't see her from where they watched the game, but if one of them had walked to the space in the kitchen wall they would have seen everything.

I threw the camisole to the floor and took mom in my arms. One hand went to her ass and the other went to the back of her neck. My mouth was on hers in an instant, my tongue pushing forward to meet hers. Our tongues wrestled with one another as I kneaded her firm, sweet ass with my hand.

And then I pulled back. As much as I wanted mom's body against mine, I wanted something else even more.

"Mom, get on the floor," I said, quietly enough that my friends in the living room wouldn't hear.

Mom's response skipped a beat, like she didn't quite know what I'd asked her to do, but then she responded, and complied. Her open, steady eyes on mine and her slight smile told me she knew what I wanted. We didn't have to say it to one another. She knew what I wanted, and she wanted it too.

Mom's knees bent, and her hands went forward, and then she was on the floor on all fours. She made eye contact with me and I looked back at her and gestured at her with my chin. Mom turned around, until her ass was turned toward me. She pressed her chest against the floor and pushed her ass up toward me.

Nothing in the universe could be more inviting than my mom's upturned ass and the sight of her beautiful pussy, lips parted slightly, on view to my hungry eyes. But there she was, mashing her breasts against the wood strip floor, parting her legs and turning her back side to me so I could see everything.

My eyes scanned the kitchen island counter next to me. I saw what I needed and grabbed it. I spit on it, and then I bent down.

I pushed a thick, green cucumber into mom's exposed pussy. It was bulkier and thicker than the carrot I'd tried earlier, so it didn't go in as quickly or as easily. But go in it did. My spit helped, but the chief lubricant was from mom. She was sopping wet down there; I could feel it from the lack of resistance as I pushed the cucumber into her.

When it was about half-way in I stopped pushing. I wanted to look at what I'd done. The cucumber was thick -- much thicker than the carrot I'd put in her earlier. The rim of her pussy was stretched tight and thin around it. Mom's body moved up and down with her quick, excited breaths. She pressed her chest down low against the floor and held her ass high, in the air. The cucumber was lodged in tightly, and it wasn't going anywhere.

Mom raised her head off the floor, craned her neck, and looked back at me. I got down on the floor, on my hands and knees, and I scooted more closely to her. I bent my face down to hers and kissed her on the lips. Our tongues touched.

I pulled back to listen. The game was still going on and my friends were still hollering. I didn't want one of them to appear suddenly in the kitchen, but there didn't seem to be any fear of that now. They were immersed in the game.

Mom sat up, partly. With one hand she grabbed the cucumber and held it inside her. She pressed her other hand against my chest, pressing me to step backward. Mom guided me back behind the kitchen island. She scooted forward, on her knees, as I stepped back, until both of us were fully behind the kitchen island opposite my friends in the living room. From their position, they could see the top half of me, but they couldn't see my mom at all. I wasn't sure what mom had in mind.

I figured it out quickly. Mom took her hands away from me and leaned back and put her hands slightly behind her. Then she pushed down until the tip of the cucumber touched the floor. She pushed down further, and more of it disappeared inside her. Mom's back arched and her breasts pushed forward, nipples hard and erect. Then she began rocking up and down on the cucumber. I was spellbound by the sight of the thick green fruit vanishing inside her, a little more with each downward thrust.

My cock, already half-erect, instantly grew to full length and stretched uncomfortably in my pants. I put my hand on my crotch to adjust it so it would be more comfortable. It wasn't enough. There just wasn't enough room inside my tight pants for my throbbing cock.

I needed release and relief, so I unzipped my pants and took it out. I looked out to the living room. My friends' attention still was on the game, but even if they had looked my way they wouldn't have seen anything because it was below the level of the kitchen island counter. But they might have noticed my heavy breathing and semi-pained expression, and they might have wondered why I was standing sideways behind the kitchen island when I could have been in the living room watching the game. I had to be careful.

Mom, though, had other ideas. She reached out her hand and grabbed my cock, and her fingers curled around the thick shaft behind the purplish head. The feel of her fingers was pure heaven.

Oh my God, I thought, mom's going to give me a hand job in the kitchen, with my friends in the other room. It was so risky. But it was worth it. The thought of her jerking me to orgasm, and of coming in her face, right here, right now, was exciting beyond words and worth any risk.

But mom wasn't content to give me a hand job. That became clear as she smiled and moved even closer to me, until her face was no more than two inches from my engorged cock head. I looked at it and saw a glistening drop of precum at the tip. Mom looked and saw it too. Then she looked deeply into my eyes and opened her mouth.

My God, was she going to . . .

She was. She did. Mom held her tongue out until it just barely touched the tip of my cock, and with just a flick of her tongue she lapped up the precum. The drop disappeared in her mouth. Mom puckered her lips and kissed the hard, full bulb. Her lips opened, and she took it in. I watched, rapt, as the head slowly disappeared, and her mouth widened to accommodate it. Mom's eyes never left mine. In no time the head was gone, fully inside her mouth and against her swirling tongue, and her lips encompassed my thick shaft. I could see the outline of my cock head inside her mouth, against her cheek. Her right hand kneaded the base of my shaft, working in tandem with her mouth to maximize the sheer bliss I felt.

I knew, instantly, that it would take almost no time for me to blow my wad and come inside her mouth. I pushed my hips forward. I wanted it to happen.

But we were interrupted.

"Randy!" Tucker's voice ripped through my delicious reverie.

I clutched the side of the island counter to steady myself and looked up at the source of the voice. Tucker had stood up from the sofa and walked to the counter between the kitchen and living room. He held two empty beer bottles. Mom stopped bobbing on my cock and held still after lowering her body enough to ensure Tucker couldn't see her. Still, he probably wondered why I was standing at a semi-angle to the counter.

"What's up, Tucker?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steadier than my body, which felt like it was shaking with arousal and nervousness.

He raised the beer bottles.

"I'm out, bud," he said. "I need a refill. Want me to get it?"

"No!" I said, more excitedly than I should have. I couldn't exactly let Tucker come into the kitchen and see my naked mom on the kitchen floor with her mouth wrapped around my cock. Fortunately, I'd put more beers in a metal tub filled with ice on the island counter top. I fished a cold bottle out of the ice and without delaying tossed it to Tucker.

"Catch!" I said, without giving him much warning.

It was a dumb thing to do, because Tucker wasn't the most coordinated friend I had and easily could have dropped the bottle, maybe causing it to break or to spray out when he opened it. But he did catch it, just barely. He gave me a funny look.

"Everything all right?" he asked. "Don't you want to come and watch the game?"

"Sure," I said. "Just a minute."

I wanted to join my friends, but first I wanted to get the relief I needed by spraying my jism down mom's throat. I didn't dare look down at mom while Tucker was looking at me and talking to me, but from my side vision I could see her still looking up at me, and I felt her lips still wrapped tightly around my shaft.

"Where's your mom?" Tucker asked, looking around. I looked around, too. Shit. Mom's skirt lay on the kitchen floor, and I couldn't tell whether Tucker, from his position, might be able to see it. But he didn't seem to. I would have seen his eyes widen if he had, and they didn't change.

"She had to take care of something," I said. "She should be done with it in just a minute, and then she'll be back."

"Okey dokey," Tucker said. "Come join us. It's a good game. The team's up by 3 and there are only 10 minutes left."

He turned away and joined Mason and Alex in front of the TV.

Finally, I looked back at mom and nodded to encourage her to keep going. My balls weren't blue, they were purple, and I needed relief more than I could ever remember having needed it.

But mom shook her head faintly. Her lips parted and moved off my cock, which still was rock hard.

"We'll do this later," she said. "Join your friends."

With that, mom rocked back on her back and heels, and she lifted her ass off the ground. She pulled the thick green cucumber out of herself, thin lips trailing along the fruit's circumference. As it popped out of her, a small, fine spray of clear fluid followed it and left a tiny puddle on the floor. The cucumber's absence left mom gaping wide and pink between her outstretched legs. Mom scooted backward in that position a few feet, turned around, gathered her skirt and top, and crawled on all fours out the kitchen doorway to the hallway and disappeared. I stared at the empty doorway, my feelings a mixture of frustration, arousal, and disbelief.

Not four seconds after mom disappeared I heard Alex's voice behind me.

"Hey, man," he said. "Have an extra beer for me?"

"Su . . . sure," I said, the words coming slowly. It was hard to concentrate. I pulled a beer out of the tub and gave it to him.

Alex looked down at the floor and gestured with the beer. He was looking at the remnants of mom's squirt on the shiny wood.

"Looks like you spilled something," Alex said. "Better get that up or you'll slip."

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I'll, uh, take care of that. I'll be right there."

Alex left me. I took a towel and soaked up mom's juices from the floor. Before tossing the towel to the counter I put it to my noise and inhaled. I didn't smell much -- a fresh scent with just a trace of mom's aroma.

With mom gone and my chores done I was ready, finally, to rejoin my friends in the living room. I walked in with a beer of my own and fell into a large chair.

I watched the rest of the game in the living room with my friends. A few minutes before the game ended my mom reappeared, fully dressed again, picking up empty beer bottles and pouring some more chips into the bowl on the coffee table.

As she started to walk back to the kitchen I almost rose to follow her. I was like a dog in heat at the sight of her, barely in control of what I was doing. But mom game me a look and put her hand out, obviously signaling she wanted me to stay and watch the game with my friends. So, I resisted my urges and stayed with them.

It was a great game. The other team got the ball back with three minutes left and marched down the field, using all but one of their time outs. It didn't look good. But with two seconds left on the clock the kicker shanked a 30-yard field goal off the left upright. Time expired, and our team won. We all cheered.

I liked my friends, but I liked my mom's hot, naked body more, and I needed it very, very badly. So, with the game over I dropped what hints I could, some subtle and some not so subtle, to suggest it was time for them to go. My friends weren't always the most responsive group to hints, but they seemed to get the picture. They helped me take the empty beers and leftover chips to the kitchen, and then we all walked to the entry way.