Goodnight, Mom

"Cliff, you promised me," Mom complained a little, "If you don't style your hair tonight, it'll be a mess and you won't be able to go out tomorrow morning."
As she spoke, Mom let her thick hair down, her long brown hair had a satin-like texture, and it shimmered with tiny red reflections under the light.
"I know, Emily," Dad replied casually, "but I have to finish this work tonight; I need it first thing tomorrow morning."
He waved the files in his hand at Mom, then pointed to the stack of documents on the coffee table in front of him. "Bill went on a business trip to Los Angeles, leaving all this work to me. I don't think you can count on me tonight."
"Hmph, that's great. You know how messy my hair will be tomorrow. I'll be going to the biggest fundraising event of the year with a completely tangled mess of hair, but you don't care anyway." Mom turned and walked away quickly. Although she didn't stomp her feet, the clattering of her shoes on the floor clearly showed she was unhappy.
Dad muttered something under his breath and buried himself back in his files.
I quickly ran to the kitchen, made myself some hot cocoa, and found two extra mugs. I poured one for each of Mom and Dad, put them on a tray, and carried it to the living room, handing one to Dad.
"Oh, Mike, thank you. Didn't you make one for your mom?"
I gestured towards the two remaining mugs on the tray.
"Good boy. Could you do me a favor and comb your mom's hair? You know how much she cares about her hairstyle."
"No problem, Dad."
"Great, thank you, my good son."
I carefully carried the tray across the room, up the stairs to the second-floor bedroom, trying to maintain my balance so as not to spill the hot cocoa in the mugs. Of course, I knew how much Mom cared about her hair. Because of its texture, Mom's thick, flowing hair had a beautiful red sheen in the sunlight, but if not styled properly, it would lose its original shine and volume. This played a crucial role in Mom's confidence, especially since her proud long hair could somewhat compensate for her less-than-full bust.
Mom had beautiful legs, at least Dad always complimented her, but she herself felt her legs were a bit too thin. Dad's praise of her legs, however, was taken by Mom as indirect evidence that he acknowledged her less-than-full bust.
So Dad learned his lesson and stopped talking nonsense. I actually think Dad's clumsy tongue is worse than him saying nothing at all.
Mom's bedroom door was open, and she was sitting in front of the vanity mirror, combing her hair. When I went in, I carefully walked around the long nightgown lying on the floor. I guessed Mom had taken it off to throw it on the bed, but she hadn't used enough force, and the nightgown was just crumpled and lying on the floor without being picked up. Mom
was wearing a light blue, form-fitting nightgown that I had seen before. From behind, the nightgown just covered her hips, and her long hair covered her waist and above.
From the moment I entered, Mom's eyes kept looking me over, and her attitude became much gentler.
"Oh, Michael, you didn't have to do that." Mom always called me Michael, while Dad always called me Mike.
"It's alright, it's my pleasure to serve a lady~" I flattered Mom like crazy, hoping to appease her anger, even though I knew Mom was already regretting yelling at Dad.
I gently placed the cup of hot cocoa for my mother on the dressing table in front of her.
"You're so sweet, honey," my mother said. "Can you stay with me for a while?" "Of course, no problem."
I picked up my cup and sat on the bed, casually tossing the tray behind me. I took a small sip of cocoa, watching my mother also take a small sip, then continue combing her long hair.
"Is your dad still angry with me?" my mother asked as she slowly combed her hair from top to bottom.
"How could he..." I replied.
My mother smiled reassuringly; she knew that with my father's temper, he would never be angry about something like this.
The way my mother combed her hair back made her breasts stand out high under her thin nightgown, perfectly showcasing their contours for a moment, until the flowing fabric once again concealed her soft, feminine curves after she relaxed her arms.
I sipped my hot cocoa, my eyes repeatedly drawn to the scene, but my mind wasn't really thinking about anything else. I just realized that my mother's breasts were much fuller than she thought. It was strange to me to simply notice this feature of her body without any eroticism. I was just a little surprised to find that, from this angle, her breasts were fuller than I had imagined.
My mother paused, took another sip of her drink, and smiled at me without saying a word. Under her gaze, I suddenly felt a little uncomfortable, finished my cup in one gulp, and stood up to leave. As I passed behind her, she thanked me again for my thoughtfulness. Something made me stop, put down my cup, and take a step closer to my mother, taking the comb she was halfway through combing her hair.
"Let me help you, Mom," I said softly.
"You don't have to do this, Michael."
"I'd love to, let me help you."
Mom responded with a big smile. "Okay, you're so kind." Mom adjusted her posture slightly in her seat, happily swaying her slender waist.
I began to gently comb through her long, reddish-brown hair. After combing for a while, until Mom finished the last sip of cocoa in her cup, she leaned her head back, looked up at my face, and asked me to comb the front part of her hair, the section near her ears. Mom's eyes were closed
, her face still turned towards me, her head gently resting against me. At that time, I didn't know that this was the beginning of my downfall.
I carefully combed the hair on both sides of her face, and from my angle, Mom's breasts, which were covered by her thin nightgown, were completely exposed. It was very obvious that Mom wasn't wearing a bra; a pair of not-too-large but very firm breasts were incredibly sexy.
I quickly looked away, but then realized that Mom's eyes were closed, so I turned my gaze back, now able to enjoy this alluring sight without any restraint. Seeing the dark red bumps surrounding her nipples, nestled beneath the silky fabric of her nightgown, sent shivers down my spine. My gaze focused on one nipple, then shifted to the other, lingering between them. Because the nightgown's deep V-neckline extended all the way up to her abdomen, her cleavage and the inside of her breasts were exposed. This
breathtaking sight aroused a physical reaction; my erection pressed against my mother's soft back. But I couldn't pull away, as she leaned back too much, and I would lose my balance. I pretended nothing was happening, hoping my erection would soften, constantly telling myself, "This is my mother, how can I get hard in front of her…" But this was useless. I started thinking of terrible things, like putting my testicles on an anvil and hammering them, but even that was pointless.
Suddenly, Mom whispered, "This feels really good..."
She gently swayed her head from side to side, pressing her back tightly against my penis, which made it even harder.
"Put the comb down and massage my head like your father does." I leaned forward and put the comb back on the dressing table, a movement that made my penis press even closer to Mom's back.
Then I ran my fingers through my mother's hair and began gently massaging her scalp, then scraped down her hairline, then extended my fingers to her cheeks, pressing down along her jawline and back up her head. I'd seen my father massage her like this many times before.
"Mmm... mmm..." My mother moaned softly in comfort, slowly twisting her head and neck, making my erection inside my jeans swell even more. Maybe she wasn't even aware of the changes happening to me, maybe she didn't feel the hardness beneath the thick fabric of my jeans. She probably wouldn't notice, I had reason to think so, I'm not an adult film star, I don't have that kind of figure. After my nerves relaxed, my gaze returned to my mother's breasts. Her pajamas were stretched tightly against her chest, and compared to before, her nipples were clearly erect. Those two little things were so damn tempting!
Perhaps subconsciously craving to touch my mother's breasts, my hands moved down her cheeks, along her jawline, and massaged her throat. This movement made my mother's head press even closer to my jeans. Until Mom spoke, I wasn't even aware of my unconscious actions.
"Oh~ it feels so wonderful~" she sighed softly, "I love it~" Mom tilted her head back, pulling it even further back, which tightened her nightgown, making her breasts look firm as if they were about to burst out.
I pressed one hand back onto her forehead and the top of her head, while the other continued to gently massage her throat and chin. Mom murmured softly under my massage. Her nipples were clearly erect, and her breasts were even firmer, proudly standing on her chest. I don't know how long I massaged her like this, but I began to realize that I was no longer just massaging her scalp, but mainly caressing her cheeks and throat. Suddenly, Dad's footsteps coming upstairs startled me from this romantic atmosphere.
"Your dad's coming..." Mom whispered.
I had to remove my hands from Mom's face and neck; her soft reminder suddenly made me feel like this touch was flirting. I placed my hands back on her head, and Mom opened her eyes as Dad walked into the bedroom. But why did she quietly remind me?
"Cliff, you won't believe how good a head massage your son just gave me." "Oh," my father replied casually, disappearing into the bathroom, clearly uninterested in the topic.
"Yes, someone can replace you now, and you don't care anyway~" Mom's tone was tinged with mockery.
"Deal!" Dad yelled back, "You've found yourself a good job, Mike. You probably don't know it's a full-time job."
The bathroom door closed, and a moment later I could hear Dad urinating through the door. I gently straightened Mom's body, creating some distance between us.
"No, don't go..." Mom protested.
"Dad's going to sleep, I should go to sleep too."
"No, stay a little longer," Mom pleaded.
"Mom!" I complained, trying to pull my hands away from hers.
"Your dad needs to change clothes. Go change into your pajamas and come back to keep me company for a while." "Mom~"
"Please, I'm begging you~ This feels so good, just a little longer." Mom pleaded pitifully.
"Okay." I had no choice but to give in. My erection was still throbbing in my jeans, and I just wanted to escape before Dad went back to his room.
Seeing that I agreed, Mom finally let me go. A jumble of thoughts filled my mind. Either she hadn't noticed anything was wrong, or she had completely gone mad? Logically speaking, she wouldn't let me go back for a massage, would she? How could I massage her while wearing pajamas? No, I can't take off my jeans. But she specifically told me to change into my pajamas! This is the only way. This time, I stood a little further back so she couldn't lean on me, and then I'd massage her for a bit and then slip away.
I usually sleep naked in the summer, and from late autumn to early spring, I only wear pajama bottoms. Because of this habit, as soon as I put on my pajamas and went out, I realized I couldn't just wear them naked! What if it gets hard again? How am I supposed to hide this troublesome penis then?
I turned around, went back to my room, grabbed a pair of tight-fitting boxer shorts, put them on, and then put on my pajamas before heading to my parents' room.
I hoped to shorten the massage time this time to avoid an embarrassing situation.
When I entered, the bedroom light was off, and Dad was lying on the bed, with only a small, dim lamp on the dressing table still lit. I walked behind Mom, keeping about a foot's distance from her back, and awkwardly reached out to pick up a comb from the dressing table, but Mom pushed my hand away.
"Give me a head massage like you did before," Mom glanced at Dad, deliberately lowering her voice.
I ran my hands through Mom's long hair and looked at Dad lying on the bed. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, breathing heavily, but hadn't started snoring yet. Turning back, I realized in the mirror on the dressing table that Mom had actually been observing me the whole time.
"Your dad's been like this for a year now. He'd fall asleep the moment he hit the bed, and start snoring within minutes." I ran my fingers through my mother's hair, pulling it back to reveal a relaxed smile on her face.
With one hand, I started stroking her forehead, down her cheek, across her jawline, around her chin, then up the other side of her face, brushing aside a few strands of hair behind her ear, before returning to her forehead to continue the cycle.
My mother's eyes were closed. "This feels so good, Michael," she said, turning her face slightly towards me, perhaps to make it easier for me to touch her.
I didn't respond, and there was no need. I was already captivated by her slender neck. Why is such a delicate neck so arousing? There are hardly any pictures of women's necks posted on porn sites.
As I continued to caress my mother's face, my other hand returned to her neck. I had been gently massaging my mother's neck like this before my father went upstairs. I glanced at my dad lying on the bed; his breathing had deepened, and he'd even started snoring softly. Surprisingly, the feeling of stroking my mother less than ten feet away from him was less about apprehension and more about excitement. For
some reason, a smile appeared on my face, and my mom relaxed even more. When my dad's first snore sounded, I could even feel the tension in my mom's throat. As the snoring continued, my mom leaned back until the back of her head touched my groin. I panicked a little, afraid she would open her eyes, suddenly sit up, and turn around to demand what had happened. But my mom did nothing; she just leaned against me relaxed, occasionally letting out a soft, comfortable sigh. She didn't seem to mind the hard thing under her head.
I felt a little embarrassed and wanted to just end the face and neck massage right then and there. What else could I do? But as my attention was drawn back to my mom's chest, the fear gradually disappeared. The dim light did nothing to diminish my illicit desire for her breasts, especially now that they were more within reach than before.
My gaze moved closer; her breasts, though still partially hidden under her nightgown, were now more exposed
than before. I could see her areolas and protruding nipples, and the only difference was that her nipples were now more erect. The nightgown gradually loosened, the neckline almost touching her nipples, exposing most of her breasts. As Mom leaned back against me, her thick, cascading hair fell over her shoulders, and the nightgown straps gradually came loose from being rubbed by her hair. The straps slipped from her shoulders to her upper arms, and the neckline followed suit. As I realized the reason, my penis became irrepressible.
"Hoo..." Mom happened to exhale a long breath at that moment. I thought it was purely coincidental, but my penis was aroused even more, while Mom seemed completely oblivious.
I continued massaging her, and my penis soon became fully erect, pressing straight against the back of my mother's head. A few minutes later, I began to regret choosing such tight underwear; my penis was so hard it felt like it was about to explode, and the pressure inside was incredibly uncomfortable. Soon, the pressure made it impossible for me to stand upright, so I had to pull my hips back slightly, reach into my pajama bottoms, and adjust the position of my penis inside.
My mother was a little surprised by my sudden pullback, but I quickly supported her with my other hand to prevent her from falling backward, though she didn't open her eyes during this process. When I moved closer again, we were even closer, and my mother sat up a little more upright. I continued massaging her shoulders and neck, making her moan comfortably. My erect penis was now pressing against the center of her shoulder blade, near her neck.
I glanced down at her chest and was pleased to find that her nightgown had slipped down a bit more, one side of the neckline hanging on her left nipple, while her right breast was completely exposed! Her nipples, erect and exposed to the air, looked larger and firmer than when hidden under her nightgown. My eyes quickly scanned between her breasts—were they the same size? No, that must be my imagination. My penis was engorged and hard, as if it were about to explode. I couldn't stay still like last time when I was pressed against her back; I couldn't help but press myself tightly against her. The
exposed nipples, when erect, were about three-quarters of an inch (1.5 centimeters), proudly and proudly standing on her small breasts. Who could resist this?! I fantasized about the feeling of holding them in my mouth, the soft peaks pressing against my lips and tongue, the nipples gently touching my palate as I sucked them in. God! If only she weren't my mother! I could grab those breasts and knead them to my heart's content, bending down to suckle those sweet and tempting nipples.
Lost in these thoughts, the pressure on my hands involuntarily increased, and my mother couldn't help but let out another comfortable moan.
As if encouraged, I rashly expanded the massage to her shoulders, kneading and shaking her upper arms to loosen her nightgown even further, slowly controlling the straps to slip down to her elbows.
Having achieved my goal, I pressed my hands back onto her face and neck, then took a small step back, letting her lean against me as much as possible, just like before. My penis became even more erect, pressing against the groove between her neck and the back of her head. I was surprised to find that it seemed to be touching her bare skin. My penis was indeed forcing its way out from the opening of her underwear and pajama bottoms, the glans even poking directly into the back of my mother's neck!
Calm down! Mike! My brain was screaming, but my hands were completely out of its control, continuing to caress my mother while my eyes burned with desire at her smooth breasts. After what I had just done, both of my mother's breasts were now completely exposed! Her nightgown had slipped down, and with her increasingly rapid breathing, her tender breasts trembled gently up and down under my gaze.
I took another step forward, my penis sliding back between my mother's shoulder blades. As her posture changed, her nightgown fell even further down. I focused again on massaging her face and neck, one hand gently stroking her entire face, the other kneading her throat, my thumb gliding over her chin, pausing briefly on her soft lips. After a short while, when my thumb touched her lips again, I pressed down slightly, and my mother's lips parted slightly, as if welcoming its return.
Incredibly, now my glans was gently throbbing in the valley between my mother's shoulder blades, one hand caressing her throat, the other supporting her chin, my thumb slipping into her moist, soft lips, teasing her tongue.
My mother's breathing was regular and heavy, even a little breathless, while my father was snoring loudly. My eyes were fixed on her beautiful breasts and those playfully erect nipples. I really wanted to touch them, I even wanted to put them in my mouth. But could I really do that? That would be too crazy! But the thought kept popping into my head. God, I really wanted to do it!
As if possessed, I did it. My hand continued massaging down from her throat, gliding over her slightly thin collarbone and sternum, my palm gently climbing up her right breast, the hard nipple scraping against my palm. This tingling sensation sent another shiver through me. My mother didn't move, as if I were still massaging her neck, even her breathing remained unchanged. She neither pushed me away nor cried out. If anything was different from before, it was that I was now holding one of her breasts in my hand.
One hand cradled my mother's face, my fingers slipping into her lips, while my other hand played with her breast, gently kneading and rubbing it. I pressed my hard penis against my mother's back, my fingers penetrating deeper into her mouth, as if my penis were exploring the end of her vaginal canal. This lewd and ambiguous position lasted for quite some time. His fingers slowly moved in and out of her mouth, kneading her right breast repeatedly, while his penis thrust up and down against her back, mimicking sexual intercourse.
It was unbelievably insane—grabbing his own mother's breasts, shoving his fingers into her mouth, and making sexual intercourse motions against her back, while his father slept soundly on the bed not far from us. Damn it.
Suddenly, a long breath from Dad shattered the erotic atmosphere between us. Mom immediately separated from me, bent over, and turned her back to Dad on the stool. I turned my head, staring at Dad with deep fear, my knees bent, my upper body hunched, my exposed penis still clinging to the waistband of my nightgown. Dad simply rolled over on the bed, facing us, his eyes tightly closed, but who knew when they would open? Get out of here! Turn around and leave! What am I standing there for?!
I vaguely noticed Mom turning around, facing me, her arms encircling my bottom and pulling me towards her. She pressed her forehead against my stomach and whispered, "Help me comb my hair."
I stared blankly down at her back, covered by thick, beautiful hair, long strands cascading down her shoulders and concealing her slipped nightgown. I reached for a comb on the dressing table and began combing her hair.
Dad opened his eyes, though they were still hazy. He smiled at me, then closed them again, his breathing returning to its heavy rhythm.
My hands, holding the comb, worked on Mom's long hair, the teeth gliding smoothly through the brown strands. The fear in my heart slowly dissipated. Mom's hands were now on my thighs, her fingers stroking my legs.
Her forehead pressed against my stomach, her face buried in it. Dad's breathing began to be mixed with irregular snoring again.
I was saved; I hadn't been caught red-handed. My mother's turn saved me. Love welled up inside me, pouring over her beautiful hair, shoulders, and back. I love you, Mom, I love you so much! A feeling of relief washed over me. My mother had saved my life, and she hadn't even scolded me for my crazy actions. I didn't want her to look away, because I didn't know how to face her.
So, I gently placed my hand on the back of her head, gently pressing it to maintain her head's position, while using my other hand to comb her hair from top to bottom, preventing her from tilting her head back and giving me an explanation for my earlier outburst. But how long could I hold her like this? Could I escape?
Things changed again when my father's snoring filled the air. My mother's hot breath landed on my penis. With each stroke of the comb, a breath of fresh, warm air enveloped it, enveloping and warming it, teasing and playing with it, making it even harder. I quickened my combing, and her breathing quickened as well. I placed my hand behind her head, pressing her head even closer to mine, while her hot breath continued relentlessly.
My God, my penis was about to explode! It was painfully hard, and I felt like I was about to climax. I thrust forward, trying to find the source of this incredible heat, but Mom leaned back as well. I pulled back, and Mom leaned back again, shifting her position in the seat, and then sent that intoxicatingly hot breath over me once more.
I moved closer to her again, and Mom leaned back slightly, but this time her legs gently parted and clamped around me.
Although I had stopped combing my hair, Mom's hot breath continued to spray onto my penis.
I wasn't willing to remain passive like this, and I tried to shove my penis into her mouth, but I failed. I wanted to grab her breasts, but that would take away that wonderful maternal warmth. I desperately needed to ejaculate!
A thought flooded my mind, washing away all my previous ideas, and so I acted on it. I easily changed my stance, placing my feet one in front of the other, using my thighs to separate my mother's legs, pressing them against the groin. Slowly, I squeezed my knees in, gently pressing my legs against her vulva. The heat from her vulva traveled up her thighs to my groin. With her breathing rhythm, as her breath hit my glans, I gently pressed against her vulva.
The connection between us was established so quickly, perhaps because our genes were naturally compatible? Each time I rubbed her vulva, the time I spent rubbing and rolling my knees against her vulva increased, even beyond the time it took for her breath to finish.
I gently pressed her head forward again. She resisted, but girls are always weaker in this area. Slowly, slowly, my mother's face was unwillingly pressed against my glans. But things didn't go as planned. Judging from the warm breath she exhaled, we were only millimeters away from touching, but we couldn't get any closer. This was too agonizing! Please, please! Let me touch your face, even just once, just once is enough! Then
a miracle happened! A soft, warm, and thick piece of flesh covered the lower edge of my glans, pressing against it, enveloping it, gently licking me. A thought flashed through my mind—it was her tongue! Her tongue!! This sight stimulated me so much that I was about to ejaculate!
The shock was so intense that I could even feel it collecting the secretions from my glans, stirring the shaft of my penis. Her head pressed against my stomach, her upper lip pressing against my glans, pulling the foreskin down tightly, making the skin of my penis taut.
"Hurry up!" my mind screamed, I was about to climax! A surge of heat gathered in my testicles and gushed out through my penis. I leaned forward, my mother's upper lip gliding over the urethral opening, her teeth gently gripping the glans, while her lower lip and soft tongue intimately teased the shaft.
One spurt, two spurts, three spurts.
At the same time, I thrust forward again, pushing my penis deeper into my mother's mouth, all the way to the hollow of her throat.
Ejaculation, ejaculation, more ejaculation.
I could even hear her sucking, swirling, and swallowing the thick semen. My hands held my mother's head steady, the comb long since fallen onto the carpet. Even after I had ejaculated, she hadn't stopped sucking, drawing out the remaining semen from my penis, letting me fuck her mouth with short, quick thrusts.
Finally, she spat out my penis, not looking at me, turning to face the dressing table. My mother's head was down, but I could see her eyes were open. She pointed to the floor with her right hand, the strap of her nightgown still dangling from her arm.
"Before you go... hand me the comb..." Mom's voice was broken and strange.
I picked up the comb and handed it to her, turning to walk towards the door. Everything felt so unreal.
"Michael," Mom's gentle voice stopped me.
I stopped and turned back. "Yes."
"I want you to comb my hair every night." Her voice was like a distant echo in a valley.
I noticed she was looking at me in the mirror on the dressing table, so I nodded.
"Then we'll do it again tomorrow night at this time, after your father falls asleep." "Okay." I turned again and moved towards the door.
"Michael," this time she used her usual tone.
"Hmm?"
"You haven't said goodnight to Mom yet~"
"Goodnight, Mom... I love you."
[The End]

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