“Won’t that be bad, Mother?”
“No, Son, that’s not bad. It’s… just so the sun won’t make a line. That’s not doing anything bad, if we stop there. And as long as I’m lying on my stomach, you can’t see my… you can’t see.”
I opened the catch. I knew we had crossed a boundary. Something else was beginning. The straps gradually slipped off to each side. I saw that the sides of her breasts were squeezed out from under her body, and were left nude by the way the top of her suit fell away. I gradually worked my fingers toward that soft, soft plumpness. She tensed more and more. I saw her hands clenching. Just before finally reaching the private flesh, I hesitated. She moaned faintly.
“Would that be bad, Mother.”
“No, no that wouldn’t be bad.”
I very delicately drew my fingertips over the springing of the mound. Her body arched violently, then settled back. I tortured her. I crept toward the edges of her breasts and then, I at the last minute, diverted my fingers down her ribs. Or touched so lightly that it was agony for her. Or switched suddenly to the cup of her armpits.
She was moaning audibly now. And twisting at each touch. Finally she rolled over, holding the swimsuit so it would not fall off her breasts. I smeared cream on her stomach. She moaned louder, stretching her arms out above her head. I stroked lotion into her navel, and she bit her lip. Inexorably, my hand started the paths that gravitated circuitously toward her breasts.
How could it not. They were so magnificent. Their size and the stretching upward of her arms had caused the cups to ride loosely up the flesh that they had contained with difficulty even when the strap strained them in place. Now, more and more as she squirmed, they worked up. The lush rounds of her breasts were naked half way to the nipple. I stroked the exposed flesh, whispering in her ear: “That’s not wrong, is it, Mother? You said it was all right to touch what I can see, didn’t you?”
“Yes, yes, Son. Whatever you can see. But remember, Lars,” she moaned, “that I am your mother and you must honor me.” I cupped the base of a breast and jiggled it. The cup worked up higher. I looked at her. My mother’s breasts were naked except for the crumpled cups lying loosely on the nipples. I looked at my hand toying with my mother’s breasts. Her tits! The power surged in me and I knew I controlled her. I was feeling up my fine mother. Really feeling her up. There was very little pretence now. I slipped the tips of my fingers under the cloth, and her only protest was to cover her eyes with her arms. I found the nipple! Her mouth fell open and she began gasping “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!” as her hips began a slow, small undulation.
The nipple was bigger than I expected. Fat and hard from her excitement. I twisted it gently. She arched and fell back. I tugged it lovingly. Again and again. My left hand began on the other one. She was helpless. Now I was ready.
I slowly withdrew my fingers from Mother’s nipples, and she wailed. I drew them down and across her stomach. Down to the top of her trunks. Then she understood what I intended! Her stomach sucked in and out with spasms. Again and again I stroked the sides of her belly, making the abdomen convulse. I ran my fingers along the flesh at the edge of the trunks. I moved to her thighs. I stroked them and kneaded them, announcing my strength by flexing my hands in the deep flesh. I moved to the tender inner thighs, oiling and caressing. And up to the groin where the sensitive flesh disappeared into the bathing suit. I teased at this line, accentuating it again and again where the legs joined the body. She twisted back and forth, gasping. She bent her knees and spread her legs, offering up her loins to my fingers. Stretching her bent legs apart this way, exposing the narrow edges of flesh to each side of the cunt. I ran my finger deliberately down this new territory, making her writhe. She stretched her thighs harder, but no new flesh appeared. The cloth was wet through. Juice was running down her thighs.
“I’ve oiled everything I can see, Momma. Should I stop? I shouldn’t touch anything I can’t see, should I?” She said “Aii-i-i-i.” She hooked her fingers in the legs of her suit and pulled up. This tightened the cloth against her cunt so much that I could see the cunt slit. And it exposed new crescents of skin. Almost to the cunt. In fact, a little hair curled out at the edge! I played with the new area.
“I guess that’s all I can see, Momma, so I guess I should stop, huh?”
“Respect your mother, Son. Honor your mother.” She pulled harder upwards, and then pulled her fingers together. The cloth was only the narrowest band now, hiding only the crack itself. The mound was clearly visible, and the hair. Mother’s cunt hair! I watched my hands creep toward it, and her body begin to lift-offering the cunt to my fingers.
“Does hair need suntan oil, too, Momma?”
“Please, Lars, please. PLEASE!”
My fingers reached the hair and stopped just short. Her whole body was bowed off the ground and she was sobbing with lust. I was mindless! All the unconsummated excitement worked up by Louise and Annie rioted in me, out of control.
“Ask for it, little Mommy, if you want your little boy to go on.”
I was watching her face, enjoying the wanton way it contorted. Suddenly, her eyes opened. She looked directly in mine. Her voice was strangled: “I’m your mother, Lars! Remember… Don’t forget… I’m your mother!” We stared into each other a long, agonized minute. The tension was unbearable. I felt the power in me.
“Would you like your little boy to do a naughty thing, Mommy? If so, you have to ask him.”
Something snapped in her. Something infinitely small, vitally important. Like the aleron wire breaking on the plane’s rudder. A huge plane, thousands of complicated and gigantic parts. But the little wire, so thin you can hardly see it, snaps. And nothing is ever the same again. The plane crashes. Something gave way in her. She looked in my eyes and said, softly: “Oh, yes, my little baby, play with Mommy’s cunt.” I began again, slowly approaching the cunt. It was the moment. Deliberately, I ruffled my thumbnails up through the hair on each side of the mound. “Oh-h-h-h-h-h” she moaned. “Oh, I’m coming! Mommy’s going to come, Lars. Momma’s coming. Mommy’s coming.” Over. and over, louder and louder. She was yelling: “MOMMY’S COMING!” And she did. Again and again, hysterically, racked by it in long shuddering explosions. Over and over. She kept her eyes open so I could see it. Then everything reached its peak in me. The mountains in me blew up. My body was dynamited. My mind toppled over; shouting, “I came,” I fainted across her.
Chapter Fifteen
When I came to she was gone. I looked in the fir grove where she had parked the car. No car. I judged by the sun that it was about three. I started home.
The road was oiled but dust still kicked up as I walked. I threw stones at the trees trying to forget I was worried. Why had she left? What would her reaction be, now when she reflected. Had she intended that to happen? Assuredly not! I had looked at her and she had been affected by that strange thing in me that got all of them. But what now? I had to go home and find out but I didn’t want to. All at once I remembered Gunilla.
My steps quickened. My heart lifted. A surprise, she had said! Another of her fantastic surprises! Also, I could ask her advice about Mother. She would help me. My Gunilla would help.
There was no one in the front yard. I quickly went up to her room.
Gunilla was curled on the bed reading. Her skirt was well above her knees. My blood quickened at the sight. Only half of her thigh was bare,- but it was enough. It sang to me indecently. Would I never, never get used to it? She put down her book and smiled.
“Well, lover, I thought you’d never get here. I’ve been waiting for hours!”
“I’m sorry, I said, but listen, I may be in trouble, Nil.”