Close Knit 2: Third Base


          “Listen, Vinnie,” my dad said, his large hand clutched firmly around my shoulder. “I just don’t want to see you going down the same path as your Uncle Xavier… He started doing that stuff when he was your age and it opened up a world of newer and deadlier stuff. I worry about you, y’know.”          “I know, dad … I’m sorry.” I lifted my head finally, staring up into my dad’s stern, concerned green eyes. The old man really did worry about me. He was my father, after all. And as such, he wanted to protect me from the world and its ills. The fact was a little suffocating, but it was heartwarming as well. Hell, I even smiled a little. He was the kind of dad any sixteen year old boy wanted, needed.          “I love you, son. I want you to take care of your body,” he said, pointing a finger at my chest, and then up to head, tapping my temple, “as well as your mind.”          “Love you, too, dad.”          Dad smiled and turned. Before stepping out into the hallway, he gave my mom, who was leaning against the door frame with her slender arms folded under her breasts, a soft kiss on the cheek. She closed her eyes and smiled warmly, melting against his touch. A pang of irrational jealousy struck me square in the chest. I envied the way my father could make my mother react to him. Especially since I’d begun looking at my mother Escort esat in a whole new and inappropriate way. It was my friend Zander’s fault.          While spending the weekend at his house, I had spied on him getting it on with his mom in her bedroom. And since then, I’d begun looking at my mother in a different light. I’d come to notice her round behind and her long, shapely legs, the fullness of her breasts (I guessed they were large C-cups) and the delicious curve of her neck. And as she stood there in the doorway recovering from my father’s kiss, her sensuous brown eyes fluttering, I craved to do unspeakable things to her. To do what my body ached to do to Zander’s mom as I watched her get mounted by her own son.          My cock strained against my denim jeans.          Mom, seemingly unaware of my bulge and my filthy thoughts, eventually got herself together and approached me, her perfect petal lips meeting my cheek. The kiss was chaste, motherly. Regardless, I throbbed behind my jeans, and feeling her soft palm cup my cheek didn’t help my libido none. “Be good, will you?” she said          “I will,” I told her, smiling. I watched her leave, admiring the way her hips shifted in her form fitting khakis, and waited a few moments before I quietly shut my door and fell back against it. I inhaled etimesgut escort deeply, and let out a long, tension-filled breath. I wanted to masturbate, to rip my jeans open and stroke myself right then and there. My fingers ached with the need. But there was no time for that. Not yet. There was work to be done.          I walked across the room and plopped down in my high-backed leather office chair in front of my computer desk, turning on my PC. Once the operating system loaded, I opened my web browser to visit a message board dedicated to erotica, a message board that I’d discovered that my mother frequented after snooping through her browser history on her laptop. She’d written stories under the username “StarvingMILF,” stories supposedly based on her own experiences. I’d read every one she’d posted in hopes of finding something that’d inspire me to seduce her. I discovered that she’d written a new tale while I was staying at Zander’s place the week prior.          She’d written about her and dad, and how they’d role-played as father and daughter. She’d written how it turned her on to pretend she was my dad’s horny little girl. How it turned her on to call him daddy as he fucked her. How the taboo of incest makes her cream herself….          Fucking jackpot!          I felt myself etlik escort bayan grinning like an idiot, estatic. The chances of successfully seducing my mother had skyrocketed. Now, it was a just a matter of catching her alone so that I could make a move. With my newfound information, I celebrated on my bed with an orgasm, thinking delightfully sinful thoughts of mommy dearest.                                                  [ [ [ Close Knit 2 ] ] ]          “You’re a little drunk, I think,” I told my mom. It was the end of another Ladies Poker night in our house, which left the living room cluttered mess of beer bottles and styrofoam dinnerware. The powder blue card table was still set up, and mom sat in one of the four matching folding chairs that surrounded it, nursing a bottle of Samuel Adams. Dad wasn’t home, and though right now was a perfect opportunity to try to bed my mom, I at least wanted her sober. I wanted her perception good and clear. I wanted her to know that it was her son filling her with cock.          “A little bit,” she agreed. “But I’m functional, I promise.”          As I picked up around the living room I watched her. She was incredibly sexy…even when slouching. Her emerald green halter top exposed her smooth, creamy shoulders, her long auburn hair falling over them delicately. I licked my lips. I imagined showering those shoulders with kisses, and moving those kisses up to her neck.          My need for her must have taken over, because before I knew it I was behind her, my hands were on her shoulders, massaging her supple, sweet smelling flesh. And to my surprise, she’d allowed it.

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