Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Unexpected Side Effects: 3

"Alright. Good. Let me do this." He crammed the edge of his hand against her, his thumb pointing up her stomach, his fingers between her legs. She moaned, pressing back.

Stan moved his hand in and out, applying and releasing the pressure. She closed her eyes, lifted herself a little, making it easier for him to move his hand. Pushing down with his thumb as he lifted his hand, he pictured it stimulating her clitoris. "Is that good, Mom?"

"Uh huh." She spoke from deep in her throat. "Call me Beth."

"What?"

"If we are going to do this, call me Beth." The words puffed out of her. "But only while we're doing it."

Ok, sure. Ah, Beth." Her name sounded funny on his tongue.

As though him speaking her name gave her some sort of permission, she moaned out a long, "Ahhh," grinding against his hand. She lifted herself up and down, her hips rocking. "Oh, yes. Put your arm in there."

Stan shifted so she was riding against his forearm. His cock was rock hard in his pants as he thought about what he was doing for his mother. He would take care of that issue later. For now, he needed to concentrate to bring her the relief she was looking for. Her thrusts became more urgent. He moved his arm in time with her grinding to put pressure on her clit. Her efforts grew more frantic, her breath rushing in and out in great pants.

And then she was pressing against him, her arms around his shoulders, her body turning more toward him. She tucked her head tight against his ceaseless "Yeses," hissing out of her. Shudders racked her, and she ground herself against him so hard it generated enough heat that it felt like an arm burn his father would sometimes give him. Is she orgasming? He wondered.

He looked at her face. She was sweating, her features tense and sharp. Her eyes were closed. He breath came in gasps. Yes, I'm pretty sure she is. And, with that thought, Stan felt a flood of emotion for this woman, and he was thankful he could help her reach this state of bliss.

"Oh, god, Stan." The words puffed in his ear. "That was intense. I hope you don't think poorly of me."

"Mom, I love you. I'm glad to help you out."

"Well, this goes beyond house chores." They both laughed. She continued to hold him, and he hugged her back. After a few minutes, he pulled his arm from between her legs. She held it for a moment, squeezing it with her thighs, then released it. "Are you okay with all this?" She sat back with a sigh.

"Totally. Let me know if you need it again."

She waved her hand in front of her face. "I think I'll be good for a while."

Stan stood, adjusting his clothes so his erection wouldn't show. He didn't want her to think he was a perv or a pig. "I got a few things to do."

She gave him a long glance, and he was afraid to move before she looked away. He noticed her eyes dropped to the front of his pants before flicking to one side. It was his turn to flush. He headed to his room.

For the next few days, Stan had a hard time not letting his memory of stimulating his mom creep into his thoughts. It was just a back scratch. He told himself over and over. That didn't work, and he found himself jerking off several times a day. You can't think about your mom like that, he thought when darker thoughts of his mom seeped into his fantasies. She's your mom.

Then he was in the living room again, watching his show, picturing his favourite actresses in various stages of undress. Then he noticed they both had his mom's face, her shape, it was her breasts he was gazing at, feeling, squeezing. Stop that, screamed in his head and the fantasy women returned to their younger selves.

"Stop what?" His mom was standing just inside the living room, behind him.

Glad the back of the couch was between them, hiding his stimulation, he looked at her. Had he spoken out loud? Must have. "Oh, just the show. They're so stupid."

She came into the room, stood near him. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, twisted her body. Stan knew she wanted to say something but was shy.

"Has that urge come back, Mom?" Stan tried to make it sound as casual as possible.

She flushed, and he knew he was right. He felt himself break out in a light sweat and admitted he had been hoping for this.

"Is that ok?" She squinted at him.

"Sure, Mom. Er, Beth. Happy to." He sat himself up, straighter, pulling his ass deeper into the couch, making room for her.

Instead of sitting beside him as he'd expected, she straddled one of his legs. "Is this ok?"

"Sure, sure, ah, Beth. Whatever you like." He placed his hands on her knees, feeling nervous, uncertain how to proceed. He didn't need to. She began grinding her crotch against his thigh, pressing down. She sighed, closed her eyes. She moved slow, tipping her pelvis forward, then back as she slid closer, then away.

"Can I help more?" Uncertain what to do, he decided to just be direct.

"This feels so good." She steadied herself by placing her hands on his shoulders.

He rubbed her thighs, tracing his thumbs up the inside of her legs. After three slow rubs, he pressed his thumbs into her crotch, where he imagined the top of her vulva to be. He watched her face. Her head lay back, her mouth opening a little. She gasped. He pressed harder as her hips slid forward.

"Ah, yes," she hissed.

"You like that?"

Her head moved forward, and she smiled at him. "You know I do."

"More?"

"God, yes."

Stan moved his hand, placing the flat of his fingers against her crotch, sliding it toward her ass. His other hand moved behind her. He needed some leverage to press harder against her pussy. Her hips pressed back, grinding against his hand. He was fully aware how hard his cock was. She worked away at his hand and leg.

After a few minutes, a cramp developed in his fingers from their position and the effort he was putting into it. He shifted his hand to ease the muscles.

"I'm hurting you." She stood a bit, taking some of the pressure off his hand, but kept up the motion.

"It's ok, Beth."

"It's taking longer than last time."

"I don't think so. You want to try it that way? Along my arm?"

"No, that actually burned a bit. This feels nicer." She shifted back, ground herself against his knee. She gasped again, sliding down, then back up and over. On the next stroke, she worked her pelvis hard against his knee. "Ohhh."

Stan placed both hands on her ass, pressing when she pressed, relaxing when she moved back. As she continued to ride his leg, he slid his hands up her back, then down to her hips, up, then down to her buttocks. He felt her movement grow more urgent, firmer, quicker. He knew she was approaching climax, and he wanted to help her enjoy that more. He also became more aware of just how hard he was, how stimulated despite his not wanting to me.

When her breath was panting and her thrusts even more vigorous, uneven, he slid his hands up her back then around to her chest and he cupped her breasts.

"No," she moaned, then shivered, her hips rocking less, pressing more, grinding. She pressed tighter to him. "Yes, yes."