Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Mom's Touch But Don't Look Policy:>Ep10

I didn't have a good sense of the size of Mom's breasts. I assumed, based on previous evidence, that they were about the size of an apple. I hadn't focused on them before because they were never the part that was under the covers. And Mom was always wearing layers that kept them well hidden.

Now though, the whole universe could have exploded, and I would have stayed watching my mom rub my seed into her boobs, spreading it circular over her nipples. First one breast than the other. Moaning lightly as she did so. "That feels much better," Mom said. She sat back and sighed. "How about another episode?"

*

I woke up in Mom and Dad's bed, Mom's head resting on my chest. There was no inappropriate contact -- we were just cuddling. In some ways, that was even worse. We'd slept together like lovers. Woken up as a married couple might. Mom's hand lightly played on my shirt-covered chest.

"How'd you sleep, baby boy?" she asked, using another one of my childhood nicknames that I hadn't heard in years.

"Really good," I said. It was true. Something about being in that big bed had felt like resting in a warm cloud. Cossetted and comfy.

Mom's hand moved down my chest. It slipped under the covers. My eyes went wide as I realized we were about to expand our nighttime tradition. But right before she reached the waistband of my boxers, something started to ring, loudly. "That must be your father," Mom said, popping up. She grabbed her cell off the nightstand and picked it up, motioning for me to move over so that I wouldn't be seen on screen.

"Hi David!" Mom said. I saw Dad's face appear on the phone. He looked tired. Worn down. The guilt of what I'd been doing with Mom flooded in.

All Dad had ever done was work his ass off for me and Mom. Sure, I had a scholarship, but that didn't mean he wasn't taking care of me in a million other ways. And because of that work, he was alone, in another country, completely separate from his family. And all the while I was rewarding him by fingering his wife in his own bed.

"I had a little accident," Mom said, "I'm OK, but I wanted you to know."

"What happened?" Dad said. I could see the worry in his eyes.

"Jay and I went out running and I tripped and twisted my ankle," Mom said, "Your son was such a hero, carrying me home and taking care of me."

"Jesus Julie are you stupid?" Dad replied. His rage was neutered by how tinny it sounded through the speaker phone. "What were you doing out running with Jay in the first place?" "We've been working out," Mom said, "I want to be in good shape for you."

"Julie, you're too old to be pulling crap like that," Dad said, shaking his head like she'd spent their life savings on magic apricots. "You can't be chasing after Jay like some teenager." "I'm not chasing after him," Mom said, her pride clearly wounded.

"Fucking hell," Dad said, "I leave for one second and you completely fall apart. Are you going to climb Mount Everest this afternoon?"

"It's not that big a deal," Mom said, "It barely even hurts anymore."

"Well, you can't say you didn't have it coming, Julie," Dad said, "You acted like an idiot and got injured. So, congrats on that."

"I'm sorry," Mom said. Her voice quiet.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Dad said, "Maybe this time you'll actually learn your lesson."

"I'll be fine," Mom said, and it sounded more like a decision than a promise. "Do you want to say hi to Jay? He's right, um, in the other room."

"No, I honestly, truly don't," Dad said, clearly still upset about what had happened to Mom.

"Well, is there anything you want me to tell him? When I see him? Later?"

"Tell him to stop dragging you along on his dumb escapades," Dad said, "He's a big boy. He doesn't need his Mommy to watch everything he does anymore." "Yes," Mom said, her response automatic. "OK, I will. We both really miss you, David."

"Look, I'd better get going," Dad said, "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Try not to get a lacerated kidney in the meantime, OK?"

Mom blew him a kiss and hung up. She put the phone down on the bed carefully, like she was afraid she might accidentally throw it across the room. I tried to meet Mom's eye, but she wouldn't look at me. Suddenly, I didn't feel so bad for sleeping in Dad's bed.

*

Mom spent the whole day on her feet, like she'd never hurt herself. A few times, I tried to check on her, but she wouldn't let me. She seemed cold, distant, and it reminded me of the way Mom had acted when I was in high school. I doubted that was coincidental.

The good news was, she did seem to be moving OK on the ankle. I caught her wincing a few times, but she was able to put weight on it most of the time. Still, a part of me worried Mom was overdoing it just to prove a point to a person that wasn't even there. So, I kept an eye on her throughout the day.

Watching Mom doing her chores shouldn't have been anything exciting, but it was. Doing laundry, washing dishes, vacuuming -- these mundane things became interesting because it was Mom doing it. The way her perfect body moved around the house. It was kind of entrancing, actually.

Eventually, Mom caught on to what I was up to. She stood over me on the couch, hands on her hips.

"I'm sure you can find better things to do with your day, Jay," Mom said.

"Nope," I said, "I'd much rather spend time with you."

Mom started to snap back, but then she faltered. "Thanks," she said, the word so quiet I almost missed it. Then she left the room. But I noticed she stopped acting so frantic and angry.

That night, I made dinner while Mom sat on the couch. She finally allowed me to ice her ankle, which didn't look swollen or bruised. I was now convinced that we'd dodged the danger and Mom was going to be alright.

We ate at the table together, in silence. We were doing OK, I could tell, but the remnants of the earlier tension were still there. It kept our conversation awkward and stilted. Both of us stared at our phones, mostly.

"Do you mind if I ask you to do the dishes?" Mom said, "It's been a long day and I'm really tired."

"No TV show tonight?" I asked. My disappointment must have been obvious because Mom gave me a guilty look.

"I'm sorry," Mom said, "I don't want to break our tradition."

"No, I understand," I said, "We can try again tomorrow?"

"Maybe," Mom said. She got up and went upstairs.

I cleared the table and took the dirty dishes into the kitchen. Washing them by myself only increased the sadness I felt. I know I should have let it go. Bad enough that I was getting milked by my mom, regularly. I couldn't then throw a tantrum when she, rightfully, wanted to stop.

Still, washing up all by myself was what hit it home. Weird that, with all the sexy stuff we were doing, the thing that really hurt my feelings was doing a chore without Mom's company.

After I was done, I watched some crap on my tablet in my own bed and then turned out the light. I closed my eyes to sleep, but it wouldn't come. I kept thinking about the day and how I could have done it differently.

Then, as I was finally about to fall into a troubled slumber, my bedroom door creaked open.

"Mom?" I asked, instinctive. She didn't respond. But it was clear that my mother had come into my room. It was dark, but I could make out the shape of her. I was so confused by what she was doing, I didn't know what to say.

The room went quiet. The next thing I felt was someone climbing onto the end of the bed. The covers lifted. Again, I asked Mom what she was up to. Again, I got no response.

I felt her now, crouched over my legs. The heat of her breath under the comforter. I realized: she was under the covers. Mom's touch but don't look policy was taking on a whole new dimension. I couldn't imagine what was about to happen, but I understood I was supposed to pretend like nothing was happening.

Mom lifted the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down. My dick popped free, quickly stiffening. Mom wrapped her hand around my shaft. The feeling was familiar and wonderful. I settled back, only wondering why Mom had chosen a position where I couldn't return the favor.

I felt a new sensation. Warm and wet. Oh my God. Those were the only words I could say. The only thoughts I could conjure.

"Oh my God," I said as Mom's mouth wrapped around my cock. Her tongue pressed under my dick.