Chapter 5

After that, I had to get out of the house. It was just too hard to hang around watching Mom without touching her. So I left. I called a couple of buddies but they were already doing stuff and I didn’t actually feel like company anyway. I needed to be alone and ended up taking a drive in the country, following secondary and even gravel roads through rolling hill country.

It was a good choice. My thoughts of Mom intermingled well with the music on the ‘Classics’ station that played vintage rock’n’roll from her era. I passed through miles of beautiful country without really paying attention to it, my mind playing a fiction movie starring me and Mom, not much older than me, as I imagined she would look. We did things I would do with a girl my age, went to movies, burger and pizza places, and parties, sometimes hanging out with my friends, more often just being by ourselves. It was a life with Mom more integrated in my world, before she met Dad.

Dad. How could I get Mom away from him? He hardly traveled for business anymore. I wanted to get him away for a night or two so I could be alone with Mom, so I could wake her in the morning with tender caresses. Or maybe I could find an excuse for Mom to visit some relative or friend that lived within driving distance but far enough that we could do a road trip with an overnight stop at a motel. But neither was an option until school was done and that was weeks away. I couldn’t wait that long. I had to get Mom alone some other way.

My thoughts turned toward tonight. Tonight I would braid Mom’s hair. I could imagine her in the bathroom, braiding together strands of hair while I watched her in the mirror, proudly showing me her tits, arching her back to tighten her tummy and lift her nipples high, pushing her bare ass against my cock, embedding it the crack of her ass.

WHOAAA! Jesus! I scrambled to get the car straight, hands flailing on the wheel. This way, back ... over correcting ... back again, avoiding the ditch, up onto the road and back to my own side.

“JESUS!” I yelled, looking in the mirror at the car rapidly disappearing down the road, a hand held straight up outside the driver’s window, obviously giving me the finger. Relief flooded over me and I laughed, nervously and loud.

“Jesus ... fuck,” I said. “Keep your mind on the road, Mike,” I yelled at myself.

I looked down at my lap, at the huge bulge still residing there, concrete evidence of where my mind had been seconds ago.

“You almost killed me, you prick!” I laughed.

I slowed down and looked around at the scenery but my thoughts soon returned to Mom though I resisted playing another bathroom scene in my mind. I was partly successful.

I was late for dinner, quite late. It was almost dark when I got home and Dad admonished me as soon as I came in the door.

“Where have you been?” Then, not waiting for an answer, “You said you’d do your mother’s hair for her today.”

“Sorry Dad,” I said. “I went for a drive and lost track of time. Is Mom mad?”

“No. She went to warm up your dinner when she heard you pull in. She’s never mad at you, you know that.”

I went into the kitchen. Mom was standing in front of the microwave waiting for it to finish, facing me with her right hand and hip resting against the counter. Her amused eyes glanced toward the living room and Dad when she saw me, then returned to me, arched high. Her robe was cinched tightly around her waist and, seeing she was already changed for bed, I realized how late I really was. My eyes traced appreciatively down her body, past the robe and along her legs to the fluffy slippers on her feet, and back. I wasn’t shy. I didn’t mind if she saw my thoughts reflected in my face and my actions.

“Sorry, Mom.” I quietly offered.

“There’s no reason to be sorry,” Mom replied. “Did you have a nice drive?”

“Yeah.”

“Get thing’s all sorted out?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s amazing how a drive or a long walk can do that.”

“Yeah.”

Just then, the microwave buzzed. Mom waited until the fifth buzz before opening the door. She never opened the door until the buzzing was done and always gave me heck when I did, saying there was lingering radiation that wasn’t good for me. She handed me the plate with a warning that it was hot and told me to sit down. She poured a large glass of milk and brought it to me, sitting down at the table in the chair across the corner from mine. She smiled while I ate but let me eat without interruption, not talking until I was almost finished. Her presence made my chest feel tight and my skin hypersensitive.

“So,” she said huskily, “are you going to braid my hair for me?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice, afraid it would break into an unmanly squeak.

“Good,” Mom smiled, her foot rubbing my shin briefly before she stood. “Come up after you put your dishes away.”

She paused just before the door and turned half back to face me, “Maybe you should put your pajamas on before you come. It might take a while.”

I was vaguely aware of Mom telling Dad she was going upstairs so I could braid her hair and that he should lock the doors and turn the lights out when he came up. I was already imagining the feel of her hair, and her soft behind.

I had to run really hot water on my hand to shock my mind off of Mom but it was the cold water that finally dampened my boner enough that I could leave the kitchen and walk past Dad on the way upstairs. I rushed to my room and put my pajamas on in record time. It was all I could do not to run to Mom’s room.

She was waiting for me, seated on the bench in front of her makeup dresser, where she had been the first time she’d let me touch her. As then, I approached her back slowly. Her hair was spread evenly across her back, outside her robe. As I neared, I could see that her robe was open down the front, about four inches apart, not enough to bare her breasts but my cock still stiffened to half mast.

Her smile was alluring and knowing, aware of the effect she wrought upon my male sensitivities. Hovering behind her, my eyes couldn’t stay on hers and were pulled down her reflection, through the gap in her robe, between her hidden breasts and over her slightly pouting tummy with its sexy, beckoning navel, and on to her flesh colored panties.

“Do you like pussy willows?” she said, mouth turned up in one corner in obvious amusement.

There was a faint design etched in the front of Mom’s panties but that wasn’t what I was looking at, and she knew it.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” I answered, playing it up.

“A connoisseur, are you?”

“Yes. Yes I am, of sorts.”

Mom’s smile broadened in delight and I could feel an intense enjoyment spreading through my own body from this playfulness.

“Perhaps you’d like a closer look?”

Mom’s knees parted a little, exposing more of her panties.

“I would certainly appreciative that. I think you have a rarity there, a real collector’s item.”

“Really?” Mom cried, opening her legs a little more, enough for me to see the sexy way her thighs widened as they flattened on the seat. “What makes you think that?”

“There’s a hint, a lascivious quality. I can’t quite explain it, but your item seems to possess a life force that cannot be denied.”

I thought that sounded really lame but Mom seemed to like what I’d said. Her legs opened even more and her panties puffed forward delineating their underlying sculpture so finely that a permanent memory was burnt into my retinas, forever associating that particular image in my mind with the word ‘pussy’.

“That may be the finest example of a pussy ... willow that I’ve ever seen. But, of course, I’ll have to take a closer look to be sure.”

“I don’t know,” Mom said, her voice uncertain. “My husband’s just downstairs.”

“But surely he wouldn’t mind,” I protested. “It is in the name of art, after all.”

Now that got a huge smile from Mom. I was sure I had hit pay dirt and was about to lean over her so I could reach down and take my prize in hand but a creak from the hall made me stiffen -- not where you think -- my whole going rigid in fear.

Mom’s knees snapped shut and her robe was quickly closed and securely tied. I had the presence of mind to take a handful of her hair and start separating it into strands, just before Dad walked through the bedroom door.

“Still at it?” Dad asked, casting a quick glance our way on his way to the bathroom.

“We just got started,” Mom said. “Will it bother you, us being here?”

Yes, I thought. Let’s go downstairs.

“Nope,” Dad doused that idea as he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door almost shut. The tinkle of pee followed seconds later.

I pressed myself into Mom’s hair, between her shoulder blades, nudging my cock suggestively into her back.

“We could do this downstairs, Mom, so Dad can go to sleep,” I suggested.

“He’ll fall asleep anyway,” she answered nonchalantly stroking her hair.

I began a braid, for real, to the sound of Dad brushing his teeth. Mom was silent while I worked, her eyes averted. She didn’t look at me until the braid was almost done but Dad entered the room just then and she looked his way. Ignoring my presence, Dad proceeded to undress and get into his pajamas. I started another braid as he slid under the covers, picked up a book, and began to read.

“You’re not tired?” Mom asked.

“No, not really,” Dad replied without looking up.

There was no sound except the faint sound of me twisting Mom’s hair and Dad flipping a page. I finished the braid and started on another.

“Did you take your pill?”

Long pause. “No.”

“Cliff, you know better.”

Dad didn’t respond.

“Cliff.”

“I think I can sleep without it.”

“You’ll fidget around and keep me awake,” Mom complained.

“No I won’t ... If I do, I’ll take one.”

“Promise?”

Promise.

More time passed in silence, Dad reading, me braiding, and Mom sitting calmly on the bench not looking at either of us. I had completed four long braids and thought I was finished but Mom indicated the sides of her head, toward the front where her hair was shorter. I began doing a couple of short braids on each side.

I stepped close to do these, leaning over Mom’s head and shoulders. I couldn’t help pressing my cock into her back again, feeling her warmth of her skin through the robe now that her hair was separated into braids. Looking along the side of Mom’s head, I could see her robe had parted a bit in front but it was closed sufficiently for shadows to hide her charms. I glanced at the mirror and saw that Mom was watching me. She kept her eyes on mine as her left hand, the one farthest from Dad, appeared in front of her robe and pulled it apart just enough to allow the light to shine on her bare, left tit.

I pressed my cock harder into her back and she pushed back, arching and rubbing against me. I finished the two little braids on that side and switched over to the other side. Mom’s hands switched too and I was soon watching her right tit. Whereas I had been able to watch the other nipple grow, this one was already extended. Dad flipped another page and I ground my cock into my mother’s back. I don’t how I managed not to groan out loud.

When I finished the last braid, Mom stood. We were done. Why hadn’t she come downstairs? She stepped around the bench seat and walked around the end of the bed, heading for the bathroom. I followed, but turned to go out the bedroom door.