Mother of My Best Friend — Older woman gets close to son’s best friend

Please complete the required fields.
Thank you for taking the time to report this Report submission to the webmaster. Please let us know why you are choosing to report this Report submission and then click the submit button at the bottom of the page



My left hand lay motionless on her breast as I was consumed by my other senses. She was relentless in her steady motion and her tongue massaged my own while her feminine breath washed over my face and flooded my senses. Her left hand gently rubbing circles on my back, giving me encouragement. My right hand, lying dormant along my side to this point, awakened and reached forward to touch her, finally meeting her upper thigh.

With that, she drew her hand to my shoulder and pushed me away gently, breaking the kiss. Her hand again found mine and she led me two half-steps over to the bedside, where we re-embraced with her lower body pinning my rigidity between us. Without breaking the kiss, she lowered herself onto the bed, leading me to her. She drew one knee up until her foot was on the edge of the mattress to help her move to the center of the bed.

I looked down, and then leaning over, I could see the under region of her thigh and where the outline of her panties met the clefts on either side of her covered mound. The material covering this area I could then see was thinner — woven in fine mesh — and decorated in floral halftones. The shade of her dark hair was visible; I became lost by the sight of this. I leaned closer to her until her knee was against my chest, then I pushed toward her and she responded by pulling her knee in toward her the rest of the way, leaving everything exposed and in full offering.

My right palm instinctively found the underside of her upper leg and my hand spread flat as it roamed downward until she curved. When I found this grand area, I started massaging and moving around the curves, feeling all of her. Then my hand slid across to her soft, panty-covered mound and began gently rubbing it. Warmth exuded from this part of her. Her kissing became more detached until she broke it at once and looked at me. I continued massaging her gently but more firmly and the delicate, pale flesh of her face flushed — either from her sensation or from my boldness.

She grasped my wrist firmly and pulled my hand until it met the mattress behind her and we were at an angle, with me hovering above her, her leg then beside me. She placed both her hands on the mattress and pushed herself back away from me until she sat in the center of the bed with her legs straight out in front of her — her breasts echoing her movements in weighted exaggeration. She patted the area of the mattress next to her glorious hip and winked. A sly smile emerged from her sober expression; she knew that she had full control over me.

Could I go through with this? This was a mother. This was my fallen friend’s mother. Paul, my friend, who I had grown up with, and went through high school with. My friend who had died five months earlier in an auto accident.

Divorced years earlier, she didn’t have anyone to help her with her grief. … And so she had turned to me, Paul’s best friend, to draw comfort immediately following the tragedy — to recollect the broken pieces of her lost relationship with him.

It began innocent enough with her and I looking through old pictures, or watching home movies centered around him, even going out to eat at restaurants they had frequented together. But her loneliness seemed to grow worse with every day. Soon, she was planning things to do, like going to the movies, cooking me dinner, watching television — things unrelated to Paul. Our relationship began to feel different. She no longer treated me just as Paul’s friend, but also as an equal.

From the time I was twelve until now, I have been attracted to Paul’s mom — her beauty, her graceful way of doing ordinary things, her no-frills pragmatism, her womanly curves… I had masturbated to so many women during these years, but she played the “starring role” most often in my mind’s pornographic imaginings.

Ever since Paul had died, she began giving me a hug every time I left her house, but the hugs began lasting longer… And after watching a popular movie on cable neither of us had seen — a movie with some gratuitous sex scenes — we both fell silent.

Please follow and like us:
0 0 votes
Story Rating
Pages ( 2 of 6 ): « Previous1 2 34 ... 6Next »
Subscribe
Notify of
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
0
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
()
x