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I no longer wanted to hide an erection and I stopped wearing panties under sweatpants.
At first, it was not so impudent that he watched so that his dick did not stand under the stake.
If mom would have looked at my groin, she would not see obvious excitement until it was obscene.
Well, the squeak of a son is protruding, so the age is so what to do.
If there was no danger of a direct look, say, mother sews, reads or stands with her back, then I completely freed him from his pants, and so walked around the house.
From the consciousness of being with a mother with a naked member, the excitement intensified and it was a great pleasure.
Long before snuggling up to my mother during night readings, I began to lightly, as if accidentally touching her in the afternoon.
Daily household chores and the narrowness of the home space created excellent conditions for this.
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I suspected my mother in nonresistance to her son’s attraction, the touches were naive and barely noticeable even to me.
At that time I was watching my mother more, enjoying household eroticism, only occasionally daring to slide on her body with the outer surface of the hand.
The ass pulled the most, bending over the pots, marking the floor, my mother involuntarily seduced me with lines that were hidden under a light summer dress.
To my extreme regret, mom did not show any really seductive scenes.
Not defile in transparent peignoirs; with the languid grace of Italian actresses, did not straighten stockings; no polo beds in bikini swimsuits; everything was too prosaic.
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But even what I saw was enough to keep the arousal at the level of mild weakness and dry mouth.
The culprit of weakness, obviously, was my indefatigable boy-stanchion, devouring all the energy of the young body.
Mom did not notice the interest in themselves, ignoring the peeping, touch, cuddling and stains from them.
My “courtship”, not meeting resistance, became more and more courageous, and confidence in a happy ending grew stronger day by day.
In fact, what is disgusting in my desire, who will suffer from this? What is wrong with the fact that two people, by a kind, mutual agreement, enter into a love affair? And then, who is better than mom, the closest person, could teach such delicate art as physical love.
In August, these thoughts did not leave, my mother was always there and I began to literally pursue her.
There was no trace of the former timidity, I boldly used every opportunity to touch it.
Once, bending down, she washed the jars in the bathroom.
This posture instantly instigated, without hesitation, I went to her.
About thirty centimeters behind the mother was a washing machine, I began to squeeze sideways between them, as if I wanted to take something from the window sill.
As if from a desire not to inadvertently upset my mother’s equilibrium, I took her by the hips, the penis, in a sideways motion, elastically walked over one buttock, kneading my mother’s dress, went into the crotch, and crawled along the other.
It turned out too frankly, the fingers felt like my mother tensed and froze.
Heart broke, now she had to straighten up in turn to her son and shout: “Oh, you lousy pig, what are you doing shameless ?!”.
In a daze, I looked out the window for a few seconds and waited.
Nothing happened; mother, peacefully, continued to wash the banks.
My determination returned more quickly than it deserted.
On the way back, I did the same thing, only my palms were already on a soft ass.
Intimacy with my mother, in my mind, became more and more real.
As soon as she was back or sideways, leaning toward the table or the oven, my hand immediately reached for her thigh, waist or ass.
Sometimes she pulled away from me, straightened up warningly, but more often I achieved what I wanted.
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