Mommy’s Friend

Faye Reagan

This is probably Part 1 of something longer. All characters are over 18.

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I’ve wanted to fuck my mom for as long as I can remember. That’s not even as crazy as it sounds. A lot of people want to fuck my mom. She’s fucking hot. At 5’7″, light brown hair with expensive blonde streaks, killer body and perfect face, she’s the definition of a MILF. She looks like a hot actress that has been cast as a suburban mom. I had to endure a lot of teasing from my friends growing up about how fuckable my mom was, but little did they know that despite all my protesting, I wanted to fuck her most of all.

“We’re almost home,” my mom said, turning to me and smiling.

I smiled. “Eyes on the road, please, mom.”

She was wearing oversized sunglasses, but I thought I see her roll her eyes. She turned back to the road. “It’s been so long, you probably won’t even recognize the house anymore, Danny.”

“I was just back for thanksgiving, mom. Don’t try to make me feel guilty for going to school. I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

She huffed. “It’s just so far. I miss you so much. Don’t make me feel bad for that. It’s fine for you; you never get lonely with all your friends and all your parties — and your girlfriends.”

“You party more than I do, mom,” I said. That was true.

“Come on, sweetie, I remember what those dorms were like. With you handsome face and muscles, the girls must be fighting to get a piece of you.”

I shrugged. “The girls at school are pretty immature — the pretty ones, at least. Having a conversation with them doesn’t feel like I’m talking to a real person, like they have an idea in their head of how they should act and are just following that script. I miss talking to you.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet — my sweet, handsome man. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but you don’t have to marry any of these girls just because you spend a little bit of time together. Most of these girls probably don’t even want that. Sometimes, as a woman, all you want is to spend the night with someone.”

I glanced down at her chest. The seatbelt was pulled tight on the side of her breasts, pushing them together, accentuating her cleavage. I silently cursed my mom; if she didn’t wear such revealing clothes all the time and always hint at how much she liked fucking, it would be much easier for me to avoid fantasizing about her.

“Where are we?” I said with exaggerated confusion.

“What are you talking about, Danny?” She turned to me and took off her sunglasses. “You’re fucking with me, right? This is our house.”

“Ohhh, I didn’t even recognize it. It’s been so long.”

She slapped my arm. “You little shit!” She slapped my arm again, but this time she held her arm for a moment after, squeezing my bicep lightly.

Mom unlocked our front door and ushered me into the small foyer. She looked down at her phone. “Shit,” she said.

“What’s the problem?”

“I forgot to walk Grandma’s dog, and it’s going to get dark soon.”

Grandma — and older version of my mom — had gotten a hair up her ass and was volunteering in Haiti. What she could possibly be doing to help, I had no idea. Mom had suggested maybe there was a dearth of martinis and they needed someone to assemble them.

“I can do it,” I said.

“Thanks, but I need to do it. He also needs to be given his medication which is just a fucking nightmare. I’ve developed a technique now. It you could go to my room and grab my flashlight — it’s on the bookcase — that would be helpful; I don’t want to take off my shoes.”

The flashlight was exactly where she said it would be. Something else caught my eye, though. Her laundry basket was sitting beside the shelf, and on the top of the heap was a pair of red satin panties. My heart leapt. I stood, momentarily frozen, transfixed by my mom’s dirty panties. I knew I should just turn back and give her the flashlight. Fuck it. I reached down and took them into my hands. Underneath was a black thong. I grabbed those too, shoving both into the pocket of my hoodie. My cock had come to life. Luckily I was wearing my thick raw-denim jeans which restrained my hardening cock.

I raced back downstairs and handed the flashlight to my mom. “See you later,” I said.

“Are you feeling okay?” She was giving me a look I couldn’t interpret.

“Yeah, fine,” I said.

“Alright, you just looked a bit funny is all. I’ll be back in an hour or so. I’ll order pizza when I get back.”

“Sounds good.” I was already heading back upstairs.

My room hadn’t changed since I starting going to college. The same posters for the Beatles and Star Wars adorned the walls and the glow-in-the-dark stars from my childhood were still stuck to the ceiling. I peeked out the blinds, waiting until I saw my mom’s car pull out and roll away. Once it disappeared, I removed the two pairs of panties from my pocket.

The red satin panties didn’t look well used. I brought beylikdüzü otele gelen escort them to my nose. They still had the faint odour of my mom’s pussy — a scent burned into me from all the times I had stolen her panties when I was in high school. I massaged my dick through my pants. The black thong was more soiled; it looked like she had maybe even wore them for two days in a row, something not that uncommon if she had spent the night at guy’s house or she was running out of fresh panties. I buried my nose in them and inhaled. The musk of my mom’s cunt was powerful. My cock was now fully erect, pressing painfully against the inside of my jeans.

I lay on my back on my bed with my face still buried in the black thong. I pulled off my jeans and released my hard cock from my boxer briefs. I swapped the panties briefly, sniffing the red panties, finding where her dried cunt juices were and licking and sucking that spot. I began jerking off with my other hand. I changed back to the black thong and started rubbing the satin panties on my cock while sniffing and licking the black thong.

I closed my eyes and conjured up all the sexual images I had of my mom, playing them over and over in my mind. There was no shortage of sexual images. There were all the times I saw her with just a short towel wrapped around her after a shower, the mental pictures I had of her in a small, red bikini from the beach trip we took when I turned eighteen and, best of all, the time she thought I was sleeping over at Tom’s house and brought back a guy. That time I had heard them fucking through the shared wall between our bedrooms and masturbated furiously into a pair of her panties that I had stolen that afternoon.

I was jerking off slowly, wanting to make it last, but I realized too late just how much time I had taken. I came into the red panties I had wrapped around my cock, the black thong resting on my face. As I was cumming, I heard the creak of the stairs. I balled-up the black thong and threw it into the far corner of my room, but I was still milking the last few drops of cum out of my cock. That’s when the knock came on my door. Before I could answer, the door was thrown open, revealing my mother. I went into panic mode the instant the knock came, but I had only managed to push the cum-covered red satin panties onto the floor beside my bed. I was sitting up on the bed, my cock still hard, when my mom opened the door.

She burst out laughing. “Sorry, sweetie, I guess I shouldn’t have just barged in.” She had put her hand over her mouth, but had not left the room and though she was no longer looking at my cock, her eyes kept flicking back down to it.

My face was on fire. “Can I help you, mom?”

“I just wanted to ask you what kind of pizza you wanted. Is peperoni okay?”

“Yep. Fine.”

I saw her eyes move down, saw her see her panties on the floor beside my bed, saw the moment she realized what they were.

Her eyes moved from the panties on the floor to my cock, back to the panties. “Alright, I’ll call you when it gets here,” she said, backing out of my room, closing the door behind her.

Mom didn’t bring up what she witnessed while we were eating dinner, so I thought I was safe. I thought maybe she didn’t even recognize her panties. I wasn’t so lucky.

After dinner, I beat a hasty retreat back to my bedroom. Sometime later, I heard the soft rapping of knuckles on my door. “Come in,” I said.

My mom took a step into my room. She had changed into a short, tight, black dress and had put on makeup. “Hey, sweetie, can we talk for a minute?”

“I guess,” I said. I pushed the laptop off my chest and sat up in bed.

She sat down on the edge of my bed. “Listen, sweetie –“

“I know what you’re going to say,” I interrupted, “and I know. It’s fucked up. I’m sorry that I did such a fucked up thing. I won’t do it again. I promise you that.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say, actually. If you don’t interrupt me, I’ll tell you what I was actually going to say. I don’t think you’re fucked up. I think what you’re doing is perfectly natural, healthy even. I don’t think you need to stop — unless you want to.” She patted my thigh over the blanket.

Did my mom just tell me she didn’t mind if I jerked off into her panties? My cock twitched, and I was glad I was covered by my blanket. “Okay, thanks mom.” I realized I had been staring at her tits which, to be fair, were prominently displayed.

“There is just one thing that I ask.” She paused. “I want them back.”

“I never throw them away,” I said.

“Sure, you never throw them away, but that doesn’t mean I ever get them back. I know you probably have every intention of washing them and putting them back in my panty drawer, but things don’t always work out like that. I know how it is. You are too embarrassed to put them back in my laundry basket once you’ve used them, so you hide them until you do a load. Sometimes maybe you beylikdüzü rus escort forget where you hid them. Or, maybe you take them in your car of give them to your friends —

“I don’t give them to my friends!”

“Even so, these things have a tendency to disappear. I think it would be best for you to let me do the washing. I’m going to stick in a load before I meet Marcella, so why don’t you give them to me right now.” She stuck out her hand.

That conversation had not gone where I thought it would. In a daze, I reached under my bed and plucked the two pairs of panties from where I had tucked them earlier. I handed them to my mom, our hands touching. The cum had mostly dried on the red satin panties, but there was still one wet patch where they the material had been bunched-up, and the cum stains were glaringly visible. Looking down at the panties, my mom smirked.

She lingered in the doorway. “Any exciting plans tonight?”

“Nope.”

“You’re not going to see Michelle? She’s still crazy about you.”

“I’m not going to start dating Michelle again.”

“Who said anything about dating? I told you, sometimes girls just want to spend the evening with you.”

“Michelle is in love with me. I’m not going to string her along.”

She shrugged. “It wouldn’t be ‘stringing her along’ if you told her before you had no intention of dating her again.”

“I know Michelle, mom. She would still think we are getting back together even if I said that.”

“Well, it’s not your fault if she doesn’t understand that. It’s not your job to protect everyone’s feelings all the time.”

“I don’t care. I’m not going to do that to her.”

She shrugged again and turned to walk away. “It would save you from having to sit at home and jerk off into your mother’s panties, at least,” she called over her shoulder.

I briefly toyed with the idea of texting Michelle because mom was right: Michelle would fuck me in a heartbeat. She would be on her knees sucking my dick thirty minutes after I texted her ‘hey’. I decided against because of a factor my mom had no concept of — consequences. Sure, I would enjoy a few days of using her body, but the aftermath would eclipse the pleasure tenfold. There would be tears, screaming, crying, relentless texts and phone calls, and borderline stalking behaviour. My mom somehow always dodged that kind of messy emotional shit, or maybe it just didn’t even register for her, so she couldn’t understand why I didn’t use my ex as a cum-receptacle.

I was awoken by a crashing followed by giggling. I groped in the darkness for my phone. It was just passed three AM. I heaved myself out of bed and padded down the hall and descended the stairs. My mom was lying on the floor, giggling. Her dress had ridden-up, exposing a lime-green thong. Beneath my concern, I felt a twinge of lust bubble up. She had the legs of a women twenty years her junior — my age.

“Are you alright?”

She tilted her head back, looking at me upside-down. “Danny, my boy! I was just trying to get some water and the fucking chair fucked me up. It was right in the way!” This brought on a fresh wave of giggling. The offending chair was tipped on its side, lying beside my mom.

“Okay, we’re going to get you to bed,” I said, grabbing her underneath the arms and hoisting her up.

“No! I need the water — so thirsty.”

“Let’s get you to bed, and then I’ll get you a bottle of water.” I started guiding her towards the stairs.

“No! The plastic is killing the nature — birds and global warming, fucking garbage island.”

“I’ll bring you a glass, then. Let’s just get you tucked-in first.”

We had come to the stairs. I had her propped-up with my arm wrapped around her, and I was trying to get her moving up the stairs, but we were not making much progress. I picked her up and carried her in my arm to her bedroom.

She leaned up against the wall as I unzipped her dress at the back. I pulled it down to the floor, revealing her lime green thong and matching bra. Her ass was small but perfect — round and tight and fuckable. She clumsily stepped out of her dress and collapsed across the bed.

“My nice boy,” she said as I straightened her out and pulled the covers over her. “Just like old times, right Danny?”

“Yep,” I said.

“Come here, Danny. Give your mommy a kiss.”

I leaned down and went to plant my lips on her cheek. She moved at the last second and our lips met. Her lips were moist. I didn’t immediately pull away. She broke contact first.

“I’ll go get you that water now.”

“Wait, Danny,” she said, grabbing my arm. “My bra is hurting me.”

My cock, which was already semi-erect, gave a jump. I pulled down her comforter slightly. It was a push-up bra — I don’t think she owned any other kind — and it make her modest B-cup breasts look like a C or larger. It was the type that clasped in the front. I unhooked it and pulled it away. Her boobs were no worse for beylikdüzü türbanlı escort the wear despite the breastfeeding; they were still perky and round. Her areoles and nipples were medium sized and pink. My hand had brushed against her left nipple as I was pulling off her bra, and it stiffened slightly with the contact. My cock was fully hard.

“You’re a good boy, Danny,” she said. Her eyes were already closed.

I picked up the black thong from her laundry basket — she had not in fact started a load of laundry before leaving — and moved one door over to the bathroom. I jerked off quickly, inhaling the sent of my mom with my eyes closed. I was focusing on the image of my mom’s perky, perfect tits that was still fresh in my mind. I came quickly and was instantly awash in shame. I tossed the cum-filled thong back into my mom’s laundry, avoiding looking at her tits again, and went back to my own bed.

The next morning, my mom was already awake; I could hear her bustling around it the kitchen. When I opened the door to my room, I found the same lime-green thong that my mom had been wearing the previous night hanging from the doorknob. I tore them off and inhaled. The musk was strong and they were still slightly damp. I pulled out my cock right there in the hall and started masturbating while I sniffed and licked her thong. The image of my mom’s tits came to me again and I didn’t push it away. I imagined my mom’s thick lips wrapped around my cock, teasing the head of my cock while looking up at me. I came into the thong.

Pushing the guilt down, I tucked my deflating cock away and headed downstairs. Mom was making pancakes. “Good morning, sweetie,” she said, smiling. There was no trace of a hangover on her, but she had lots of practice.

“Morning, mom,” I said, taking my place at the table.

She put down a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of me. “Do you have something for me?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you find my gift on your door this morning?”

My face became hot. “Yeah, I did.”

“Did you … get them dirty?”

“Um, yeah,” I said, staring intently on one blueberry that was directly in the centre of one of my pancakes.

“Well, don’t you remember our deal?”

“Yeah, I was going to put them in your laundry basket right after dinner.”

“That wasn’t our deal, Danny. You are supposed to give them to me. Go and get them right now.”

“What? Are you serious?”

She smacked me on my arm. “Yes, go and get them right now, mister. I don’t want them getting lost. If you don’t want to abide by the rules, I won’t give you any more.”

I ran back to my room and grabbed the cum-soaked thong. My mom was waiting at the foot of the stairs with her hand outstretched. I placed the cummy green thong into her hand. She smiled and put it in the pocket of her robe. “Thank you, sweetie.”

That evening Marcella was over for dinner — Thai takeout as neither mom nor Marcella cooked — which was fine with me; Marcella was almost as hot as my mom. She was built very similarly to my mom, same height, same youthful ass and perky tits. They were always borrowing each other’s clothes, a practice established in high school. At this point they pretty much just had one giant shared wardrobe. That evening they were both wearing low-cut tank tops and yoga pants. Evidently they were planning on staying in.

After dinner, mom opened a second bottle of wine and we moved to the living room. We passed the evening laughing and talking. You could shit talk about my mom and Marcella all you wanted — many did — but you couldn’t deny that they were fun. The night wore on. At some point, a third bottle of wine was cracked open.

“So, Danny.” Marcella grabbed my knee. “Kate tells me you’ve been going through a dry spell.”

I looked past Marcella to my mom, perched on the edge of the couch, reading the wine label innocently. “What the fuck, mom? No, Marcella, I haven’t been going through a dry spell.”

“That’s not what it sounds like to me. For a boy to be driven to masturbate into his own mother’s panties, he must not be getting much pussy. It’s pretty sick to me, real nasty stuff, and the worst part is that you don’t need to be that desperate. Kate told me how she walked in on you.” She moved her hand up my thigh. “If your cock is as big as your mom says, you could easily find a nice, pretty girl to help you deal with your urges, especially as handsome as you are.”

My cock was growing as her hand inched nearer. “It’s not that big,” I said.

“Yes, sweetie, it is,” my mom said. She had topped off her own glass to the point where it was almost overflowing, emptying the third bottle, and was now lapping at the top of the glass.

Marcella’s hand had now found my semi-hard cock and was squeezing it roughly. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem that big to me, but it does seem to be getting bigger.”

“It’s big. Trust me,” my mom said.

“I’m not sure about that, Kate. It wouldn’t be out of character for you to brag about how big his dick it when it is actually only five inches or something. Remember that handsome, strong-silent type you told me you were flirting with who turned out to be retarded?”

“He was handsome, though.” Mom looked over Marcella’s head at me. “Take out your cock, sweetie. Show this stupid bitch how big your cock is.”

“Yeah, take out your cock, Danny.”

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