Message-ID: <24593asstr$960567005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Original-Path: not-for-mail
From: tonyreeno@yahoo.com
X-Original-Message-ID: <8hq2p3$aq4$1@nnrp1.deja.com>
X-Article-Creation-Date: Fri Jun 09 06:27:59 2000 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Flirting with Exhibitionism and Incest (6)
Date: Fri,  9 Jun 2000 12:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2000/24593>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, english

Flirting with Exhibitionism and Incest (6)

The semester progressed.  At school, Carla and I got closer to the end
of another term.  At home, we continued to have incredibly torrid sex.
It was always at my house, since both of her parents were around quite a
lot (her father, an insurance agent, worked out of the house).

At the time, I lived in a part of the country where it never got too
cold in the winter, and even if it had, the house was kept nice and
toasty, thanks to central heating.  One night, before the evening temps
got too brisk, I remember Carla and I had just made love when she
suggested we go outside and join my mother in the back patio, and so we
did.  Carla wore one of my black T-shirts that fit her like a daring
mini-skirt.  I stepped outside completely naked, as I had once before in
the summer, with my mother for company.  Mom was out there already and
the three of us sat around (Carla and Mother in lounge chairs, I on one
of the patio benches near the wooden picnic table) and engaged in casual
conversation.  I'll confess that the breeze was laced with a hint of
autumn chill, but I pretended not to notice.  I was too busy enjoying
myself, pretending that it was the most natural thing in the world to be
sitting outside in the twilight while wearing my birthday suit, talking
to my girlfriend and mother.

My home exposure continued, with and without Carla.  That's what it had
become too, more than comfort:  exposure.  I remember actually finding
excuses to walk out and be naked in my mom's presence.  And I was now
constantly cupping and clutching myself around her.  She took it all in
stride.  More than that, she was enjoying the show.  This is a
certainty.  It grew obvious.  If I didn't seek her out, she made it a
point to come and read or hang around me.

I told Carla about my desire to expose myself and she grew wild with
lust at each of my stories.  She also urged me to push the envelope.  To
grab myself more frequently and overtly in front of my home audience.  I
seldom finished one of my stories, on the phone or in person, without
Carla fingering herself urgently.

I suppose that given my hyper-active libido, what happened next was
quite inevitable.  I remember it was right around Christmas break.  I
remember this clearly because Carla and I had even more time than usual
to devote to our hedonistic diversions and we had both wrapped up the
term.

At the time, I lived in a part of the country where it never got too
cold in the winter, and even if it had, the house was kept nice and
toasty, thanks to central heating.

Ah, youth.  Even though Carla and I had just had a wonderful romp, I
still felt myself harden a few hours later and it was as if I hadn't had
sex in days!  I lay back on the bed and reached down and began to stroke
myself to hardness.  It didn't take long before I had myself completely
hard, all six and three-quarters inches worth.  I could hear the distant
sounds of the TV so I knew Mom was still up, but I was feeling too lazy
and too horny to do anything about my open door.  In fact, I was so
engrossed in stroking away that I didn't hear my mother approaching my
bedroom and didn't even see her until she was through the door!

Mom stopped dead in her tracks and I stopped stroking in mid-motion.  I
literally felt myself start to shrink as she backed up toward the door,
stammered an "Excuse me," and left the room.

For the next few days, we ignored the situation.  Actually, we avoided
each other.  I think each of us didn't know how to react, given the
circumstances.  Once again, we had crossed a boundary -- the most
overtly sexual boundary yet.  In the past, it had all been implied.  Not
this time.  My mother had seen me stroking away at myself, my objective:
 to achieve orgasm.

Finally, on the third day of awkward silence, Mom knocked on the door
and I covered up before letting her in.

She raised an eyebrow at my shorts, then walked into the room.  I asked
her to sit on the bed and she did.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Don't play dumb," she said.  "Give me credit for breaking the ice."

"You're right.  About the other day:  I'm sorry!  I really am.  I
should've closed my door."

"Maybe you should have," she sighed, "but you didn't and it's done and
the way we've been behaving is silly."

I nodded.  "I agree completely."

"I miss my buddy," she said, reaching over and hugging me.  I hugged her
back.  "Even though you spend a lot of time with Carla now, we've always
found time to spend with each other, even with your girlfriend.  I don't
want us to remain confused about this or grow distant with each other,
as a result of it."

"Mom, you're the best!  I can't believe the way you've managed to phrase
it all.  It's what I've been feeling, but I was too mortified to
approach you to iron things out."

"Well, it's over, okay?"  She smiled and stood before me.  "Now, as a
sign of good faith, get comfy."

"I am comfy," I said, but I felt a little charge at her words.

She smirked.  "I mean get really comfy, Tony.  Put on what you usually
wear around the house when we're alone.  Or when Carla's here."

I stood up and in one swift motion pulled off my jogging shorts and
stood nude before her.  "You mean this, Mom?  My birthday suit?"

She grinned wider.  "That's the one.  Now let's go see what's on the
tube this afternoon."

Together, we strolled into the livingroom.  Mom was wearing a pale blue
T-shirt and cut-off jeans shorts.  She was barefoot and she crossed her
bare legs when she sat on the couch.  I decided to be bold, so I grabbed
them and placed her thighs atop my knees, when I sat down next to her.


In the middle of the movie (a boring B-grade action-flick), I couldn't
resist and leaned over and hugged her again.  "You're terrific, you
know?"

She laughed.  "So I've been told."

"Well, whoever told you before I did is right.  You fixed things up and
you did it better than I ever could."

"I thought about it," she said, "and it's not like I didn't see you do
anything I didn't already know you did anyway.  Quite frankly -- and
this should make you feel better -- I do it myself.  But I'll be
honest," she nudged me in the ribs playfully, "I didn't expect you to be
doing that anymore, with Carla in the picture."

"Well, you know what they say, Mom:  too much of a good thing is never
enough."

She frowned.  "Who says that?"

"I do!"  We laughed at that, watched a little of the movie, but I could
tell that Mom had more to say.  Eventually, she started talking again.

"Didn't you and Carla do things --"

"Things, Mom?"  I grinned at her and she actually blushed.

"You know.  Didn't you two go at each other hot n heavy the afternoon I
caught you taking care of yourself?"

"Come to think of it, I think we did."

She lay back against the opposite arm rest.  "But you wanted more?"

I shrugged and lay back on my end.  I was quite thrilled with the
conversation and I let my legs fall open and curve, bent at my knees.
In this position, lying on one end of the couch, my mother at the other,
I knew I was giving her a clear shot of my flaccid penis and balls and
part of my ass.  I reached down and cupped myself, trying to make the
motion seem absentminded and innocent, as I'd seen Carla do to me in my
mother's presence in the past.  "Sometimes I can't get enough, Mom."

"I see," she said softly, watching me pull my growing penis off my
stomach and flop it idly in my hand.

It was then that I knew I'd soon be in trouble if I didn't hide myself
soon.  So I casually got up and walked to my room.  I shut my door, lay
back on my bed, cupped myself again and started stroking away.  Very
soon, my member grew harder in my hand and I reached down with my other
hand and cupped my balls and stroked in earnest and continued to do so
until I heard the knock on my door.

"Yes?"

"It's me."  Mom.  "Can I come in?"

Silence.  I didn't know what to do or say.  Unlike the time she had
caught me, however, I didn't feel myself start to shrink.  I actually
got a thrill from knowing that only a door separated my mother from
gazing upon my now fully erect phallus, my hand clenched around its
thickness, my other hand lower still, one wet finger working its way
into my anus.

I started stroking again.  "I'm a little -- busy right now, Mom."  I
heard my voice tremble from my motions and excitement.

"I think I know what you're doing."

And with that, she opened the door.

I froze, then continued as she approached the bed, pink washcloth in her
hand.  "I brought you something," she said.  "I thought this would make
for an easier clean-up."

I started working my erection again, then slouched lower and made sure
she could see my own finger sinking deeper into my asshole.  "You knew
exactly what I was coming in here to do, right?"

Mother's eyes were riveted to my groin area.  "I knew, and I came in
here because -- I'm doing this because I hate closed doors between us
anymore, Tony.  Hate them."

She sat on the bed and this time our eyes locked.  "I want you to be
comfortable to do whatever you want around me.  Please."

I could have called her bluff then.  I could have said that there was
now definitely more than an accomodating motive for my mother's
behavior.  I could have pointed out that the same held true for my own
growing exposure around her, that it was more than simply my wanting to
be comfortable that made me spend so much time around her in the buff.
But I didn't.  I knew that she didn't really mean to overlook the truth.
 I think she was simply articulating that which she believed to be the
truth.  I knew better, but I reflected on the incredible sexual
titilation I was enjoying by having her as an audience the past few
months.  If my mother wanted to justify her own voyeuristic desires with
a bogus motive in order to ease her conscience, I decided that she was
entitled to do so.  What we were doing was, in many ways, harmless and
highly erotically charged fun between consenting adults.  At the same
time, the taboo factor was also off the scale, in many respects.  I
decided to continue the fun and let it carry us to new highs in the
relationship.

That settled in my head, I stared at her, muttered a thanks and told her
that she was really too kind.  I continued masturbating in earnest and
watched mom's eyes grow rooted once again to my member and my stroking
hand.  Every now and then, she'd watch my finger sink in and out of my
asshole.

"You're very big," she said.

"Bigger than many you've seen?" I asked.

She smiled.  "A hell of a lot bigger.  Bigger than your father, that's
for sure."

"I can make it even bigger," I said, hearing a slight tremor in my voice
from being so turned on.

Her eyes widened, then met mine.  "Prove it."

So I did:  I gripped myself at the very base of my member and squeezed
it until it bobbed like a thick baton and turned a deep shade of
crimson.  The circumcised head was a fat mauve helmet and I jerked it at
her.

My mother was, quite simply, mesmerized.  Her eyes were at half-mast,
her mouth twisted in a lusty grin/sneer.  To be frank, she looked drunk,
and, in a sense, she was.  Drunk with lust.  I could tell that she was
enjoying the show every bit as much as I was enjoying providing it.

I sank my index finger completely into my ass, stroked myself harder and
faster and knew I'd reached the point of no return.

"I'm gonna cum now, Mom," I whispered.

"Go for it," she muttered.  "Do it, Tony.  Cum for me."

Then it happend:  a torrent of semen shot of out of my erection and
jetted up my chest, followed by another thick rope and another, each
propelled with incredible force as I continued to stroke myself.

Eventually, I stopped and collapsed back onto the bed, completely spent.
 I lay there, eyes closed, until I felt something cool and moist rubbing
my chest and stomach.  I opened my eyes and watched my mother wiping me
clean with the wash-cloth.  After a moment she moved the cloth and her
hands lower.  She looked up and I nodded, then she took my still hard
phallus in her hands and wiped me clean.  I flinched when she swiped the
cloth around the head.

We both laughed at my spasm.  "Still sensitive?" she asked.

I nodded.

This night marked the advent of a new phase in our ever-changing
relationship.

Thanks for listening.  More to come soon.  Feel free to write, with
comments and your own stories!  Tonyreeno@yahoo.com


Tony

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+