Category: Incest/Taboo Stories

Mom's Pathfinder

by alwayswantedto©

"Can call her for me, please, and tell her I don't feel well?"

Mom flopped down again, but not before I saw her left breast, the whole thing, hanging free.

"Sure Mom." I turned away to make the call.

"And then come back and tell me if she sounded upset," Mom's added, her voice muffled by the pillow.

After I called Mom's friend, I crept quietly into her room. I was just about to turn away, sure Mom was sleeping, when she asked, "What did she say?"

"She was worried about you but I told her it wasn't anything serious, just one of those woman things."

"You what?" Mom rose up again and turned to look at me, aghast. "You didn't," she added, laughing.

I laughed back, shrugged, and stretched my hands out to my sides. Mom didn't seem to realize that her tit was hanging free.

"Oh, you brat." Mom flopped down onto the bed.

I stepped closer. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No. I'm just going to have a little lie down."

"Do you want me to wake you in an hour or so?"

"No. Can you stay here for a few minutes?"

"Sure." I sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you OK, Mom?"

There was a long pause before Mom answered. "Yes," she said. "I'll be fine in few minutes."

Mom stopped talking and I didn't bother her, realizing she wanted to rest, but I soon became bored. I didn't even notice that my hand had started tickling her back until Mom spoke.

"Fingertips, please."

Startled, I looked down to see my flat hand rubbing a small circle around Mom's lower back. I pulled my palm up and traced a path around with just the tip of my finger. I waited until Mom's breathing had been quite shallow for quite a while before I ventured to explore her sides. I was thankful that Mom had twisted around to speak to me earlier. That action caused her left breast to stick out more on the side nearest me. As lightly as I could, I traced my fingertip over its swollen form.

It must have been half an hour before I switched down to Mom's legs. Unfortunately, her legs were covered by her pull-up stockings. Undeterred, I trailed my finger up and down both legs but soon tired and ventured under Mom's skirt to the top of her stockings.

"What are you doing?" Mom mumbled.

Surprised she was awake, I nevertheless kept my cool.

"You still have your stockings on," I said, as if that explained everything.

"Oh," Mom replied.

Thrilled by her docile response, I pushed my right hand further up her skirt, scratching my finger around between her thighs. This was so unbelievably great. For some reason, it seemed way hotter to have my hand under her skirt even though I couldn't see what was going on. Thinking about that, I pulled Mom's skirt up with my left hand.

"What are you doing," Mom said again.

"I can't see what I'm doing," I replied.

"Oh," Mom said.

I pulled Mom's skirt up until I could see what I was doing. Mom even lifted her hips to make it easier for me to drag the skirt up. As I worked my fingertip around and around between Mom's thighs, I slowly pulled the loosened skirt up until her whole behind was bared. Wow! These panties, black and lacy, were way skimpier that the bikini now decorating Mom's floor. They barely came halfway up her ass and formed a smaller triangle than the swimsuit. Best of all, the material was even finer than the bikini and I could see the outlines of the start of Mom's pussy.

That prompted me to start my little scratches and tugs high on Mom's legs, near the bottom of her panties. It wasn't long before I detected a faint trace of that sweet, mysterious odor. I applied myself more diligently, trying to increase the concentration of that lovely scent in the air, to fill my nostrils with its presence.

"What are you doing, Jason?" Mom mumbled.

"I'm just taking your stockings off so I can do the rest of your legs," I answered.

Mom didn't reply. Not even an 'oh'.

I took my time pulling Mom's stockings off, partly because I enjoyed it and partly because I didn't want to make any fast moves that would jar Mom out of her acquiescent mood.

When I returned to my ministrations, I concentrated on the area close to Mom's panties. I never had any intention of doing the rest of her legs but pulling her stockings off had allowed me to open her legs wider, yielding a better view of Mom's panties, even opening a small gap on each side. I peered intently, looking for any sign of the dampness I knew must underlie that pungent odor, but still to no avail.

Mom didn't question my continued presence exclusively between her upper thighs and the absence of any query or complaint emboldened my wayward finger which was soon stroking only in the little hollow at the top of each leg. Scratch, scratch, scratch.

The odor was strong now but I couldn't see anything. I leaned over so far, I had to stretch my left arm over Mom's hips to brace myself. I was now lying across Mom's back, facing back. Soon, I was resting on my left elbow, and my left hand was hanging over Mom's butt, just above the hem of her panties. Cautiously, I lowered it until I could pinch the waistband. Carefully, I tugged up, tightening the panties against Mom's cheeks.


Mom's murmur caught me off guard. I froze, expecting all hell to break loose. But Mom didn't move. If anything, her bottom moved very slightly upward, against the tugging pressure I was exerting on her panties. I tugged a little harder.

"Mmmmmmmm," Mom responded.

I began tugging regularly, ever so lightly, in the same way I had tugged on Mom's skin earlier this afternoon. I wasn't rewarded with the little 'mmmmm' sound each time, but often enough to keep my cock rock hard in my shorts.

I don't know when I first did it. I was so carried away with tugging Mom's panties that I didn't even notice, but suddenly became aware of the scrape of Mom's panty leg against the tip of my finger. I was stroking the leg of her panties, right next to her pubes!

"Mmmmmmmmm," Mom purred.

Stroke, stroke, stoke.

"Mmmmm, mmmm, mmmmmmm."

That's when I did it. I slipped my fingertip directly onto Mom's panties, and stopped, dead still.

Mom went rigid. Time stopped.

Then Mom moved. Her arms rose along the mattress at her sides. I thought she was pushing herself up. I didn't know what to do, so I didn't do anything, staying rock still, like a statue. Mom rustled about. I looked around, terrified, hoping Mom wasn't looking angrily back at me.

Mom had pulled the pillow over her head. A hand at each end held it firmly in place.

I turned back. My fingertip was frozen on Mom's panties, held still in a shallow groove. I moved it ever so slightly, ready to jump free of the bed upon Mom's first yell.


A little wiggle.


Her panties were very damp. I don't know why I couldn't see that. Because they were black, I guess.

More wiggles and "mmmm's". Her bottom pushed her puffiness back as my wiggly fingertip deepened the little groove in the center of her damp panties. I pushed my finger up and down, then sideways, even in a little circle. It didn't matter what I did, I was awarded with longer and deeper, "mmmmmm's".

I was wondering if I could get away with slipping my finger inside Mom's panties when the front door slammed. I yanked my hand away from Mom's bottom.

"I'm home," my father announced, loud enough for the neighbors at the end of the street to hear. I heard him clomp into the kitchen, heard the fridge open and shut, followed by the screen on the patio door open and close. Dad had grabbed a beer.

I was standing, although I didn't remember getting up. Mom pulled the pillow from her head and sat up, sighing, looking like she had just woken up. She held her hands over her breasts but haphazardly. She wasn't doing a very good job of covering them. Her right arm stretched out, completely exposing her right tit.

"Can you hand me my blouse, baby?" she asked in a sleepy voice, continuing to hold her arm out.

I stooped and picked up Mom's white blouse from the chair next to her bedside table and turned to hand it to her, deliberately holding it to her left side. Mom took it in that hand, exposing her other breast. She held the blouse in her lap for a minute, seemingly unaware that her breasts were hanging free. She yawned, then slowly lifted the blouse and slipped one arm into a sleeve, followed by the other. Mom lifted her arms. I took her hands and pulled her to her feet, then stood there watching while she buttoned her blouse, from the bottom up, as if she had all the time in the world. Mom looked down as she worked. If she was paying any attention at all, she couldn't miss the big lump in my shorts. It was a surreal scene.

"Thanks, baby," Mom whispered, standing up on tippy-toe to give me a light kiss on my cheek. Then she turned and walked barefoot out the door and downstairs to greet my father.

I went to the bathroom.

* * * * *

I stayed in my room until Mom called me down for dinner. It was another quiet affair though Dad tried hard to make it pleasant. His effort fell flat because Mom was unresponsive and I wasn't in the mood to help. After dinner, I cleaned up the dishes while my parents sat outside to enjoy the setting sun. It was appreciated in solitude. My parents didn't speak.

Just as I finished, they both came in the house and went into the living room. I joined them. Dad was watching TV and Mom was reading. I joined her on the couch.

A couple of hours later, Dad said, "Oh, I forgot. I picked up a movie."

He put the DVD into the machine but Mom got up and said she was going to bed early. Dad shrugged and sat down, manipulating the remote to start his movie. A few minutes after Mom went upstairs, I got up too.

"I think I'll study a bit and go to bed too, Dad." He nodded and I headed upstairs, leaving him alone.

I looked in Mom's room as I passed her open door. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, already changed into her nightie, a shimmery blue, knee-length affair. Mom was staring at the carpet in front of her.

I continued on to my room, fired up my computer and stripped off my t-shirt and shorts while it booted up. I walked down the hallway to the bathroom in my underwear. Mom's door was still open with the light on. I wandered down and peeked in her door.

Mom was still sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor. She looked up but didn't turn to look at her. Had she heard me arrive at the doorway? I couldn't tell. She twisted around to lie on her stomach. The covers had been pulled down and lay in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed.

I switched off Mom's bedroom light, thinking she was aware of my presence and expected me to do that so she could go to sleep. I stood in the doorway, watching Mom's shadowy form in the summer twilight and listening to the sounds of Dad's movie wafting up the stairs. I was about to leave when Mom's feet shifted, opening her legs to the wider position they'd been this afternoon.

I looked back towards the living room, then stepped into Mom's room. Slowly, I walked to the bed and, after a long pause, sat cautiously on the edge of the bed. As soon as my weight depressed the mattress, Mom's hands moved. She pulled the pillow over the back of her head and wiggled, as if trying to find a very comfortable position, one that would last for a while.

I gazed at Mom, taking in the fine outline of her body, admiring the shape evident beneath the thin, silky material of the nightie that clung to her narrow waist and wide hips, settled over the mounds of her buttocks and sank between her thighs. Mom was still. She made no sound to prompt me into action, or to shoo me away.

I dropped my hand to the hem of Mom's nightie and pinched the material between thumb and forefinger. Carefully, I pulled the hem up, dragging the nightie up Mom's thighs and over her buttocks, revealing a matching set of panties. I dropped the hem onto Mom's waist, then pinched the folded over nightie just below Mom's bottom and pulled it up to drop it onto Mom's waist too.

I paused to admire Mom's butt. The thin material of the skimpy blue panties accented her womanly bottom more that hid its charms. I felt in no hurry. Dad's movie had just started and Mom didn't seem about to send me away. It was time to blaze a trail.

I reached back and put my fingertip into the middle of Mom's foot, squirreled it around in several small circles, then slowly scratched it up the back of her calf, around the back of her knee several times, and then up her thigh. I didn't stop at the top of Mom's leg. Instead, I pushed my finger onto Mom's panties to the waistband, traced its edge from one dimple to the other, and then dragged it over her right buttock and down her thigh, careened over Mom's well-muscled calf and onto the sensitive sole of the other foot.

Then I retraced my path to lock it in my mind, and wear it into Mom's body. Fifteen minutes later, I was tracing the same path, only when I traversed the back of Mom's thighs, my finger dipped between to taste the soft, tender flesh there. I worked closer and closer to the join between Mom's legs, but I didn't hurry. I was not in a rush. I felt calm, almost serene.

I restricted my path to Mom's thighs, circling around the back of her knees and dipping deep between her legs, running up her inner thighs until my finger struck her panties. My finger didn't climb all the way up her buttock anymore. Instead, it merely rose and pressed into the crevice between her cheeks before sliding down to the opposite thigh.

Soon, I allowed the path to Mom's knees to fallow, concentrating on the fleshiest part of her thighs and, of course, the treasured path over the pass. Back and forth the Pathfinder traveled, restless, tireless. Eventually he tires, limiting his travels just to the pass, over and back, over and back. The treasured scent pulling him back each time he strayed too far. Finally, it happened, this time so long in coming.


A minute later, the Pathfinder was awarded with another soft murmur and a gentle backward push just as he crested the pass.

I rubbed harder and was instantly rewarded with a longer and louder purr and an accompanying firmer thrust from Mom's bottom. I brought my other hand into play, resting it on Mom's back for a moment before gripping the waistband of her panties, as I had that afternoon. I tugged upward, pulling them tight against Mom's pussy. My fingertip now stayed at the crest of the pass. It no longer strayed, remaining only to meet each subtle push of Mom's panties, pushing them ever deeper into her secret valley.

My other hand released the waistband of Mom's panties and slipped inside, caressing her bare ass, at the same time that the Pathfinder's adjacent companions joined it to form a larger pestle to mill Mom's pussy.

She was purring constantly now. Moaning under the pillow really, and I was breathing very heavily, more excited than I had ever been in my life. I met each upward thrust of Mom's naughty behind more and more firmly. On one such upward thrust, Mom's hips rose and her legs suddenly snapped shut on my hand, trembling violently for about a minute, before relaxing and falling back to the bed. My hand was suddenly quite slick, with sweat? Not likely.

Mom was still. I withdrew my hand, curious about the way it glistened in even in the semi-darkness. I pulled Mom's nightie down, smoothing it over her bottom, allowing my hands to linger and enjoy the shape of her ass and the springiness of her buttocks. Mom lay quiet while I treasured her gorgeous swells.

Finally, unsteadily, I walked out of Mom's room and made my way directly to the bathroom. I didn't bother closing the door. I went straight to the toilet, lifted the seat, and vigorously wanked myself off. I didn't try to be quiet. Mom had a pillow over her head, after all and Dad was watching his movie.

Mom didn't act in any way different toward me then next day. It was Sunday. Dad was home all the day, so I didn't have a chance to play Pathfinder with Mom. She did lie out in the sun in her bikini, but I didn't feel comfortable asking her if she wanted me to put lotion on, not with Dad there, and she didn't ask.

For the next four days, even though I was home in the afternoons, Mom didn't suntan. This was a huge disappointment for me and I began to think that I had really crossed the line. Well, duh! Of course, I had. I had thought that Mom was OK with it, covering her head and all, but now I wasn't so sure. On Friday, Mom did suntan, but by the time I realized and joined her, she got up and went in the house. I was coming upstairs, hoping to find her stretched out on her bed again when she exited her room, fully dressed and informed me she was going out shopping.

That night, after dinner, Mom and I were sitting on the couch while Dad sat in his chair watching TV. Mom was leaning with her back against the arm, reading, and I was watching the TV with Dad.

"I'm going to have to work again, Saturday." Dad's voice was hesitant, as if he was expecting a blow up.

"That's ok, Richard. I know you have to work hard."

"You don't mind?" Dad asked, surprised, turning to look at Mom's back which was toward him.

"No, I don't mind." Mom twisted half-way around to smile at Dad. "Anyway, Jason will keep me company, won't you son?" Mom turned back to look at me sitting at the other end of the couch. She stretched her foot out and nudged the side of my leg. "Won't you?" she urged a response.

"Yeah, sure Mom. I'll keep you busy."

Mom smiled broadly. Dad was already absorbed in the TV again. Mom poked my leg again, digging her toe in, a quaint smile gracing her face. She returned her attention to her book but dug her toe in again, continuing to smile. I tried to push her foot away but my hand slipped way up her calf to the underside of her knee, surprising both of us. Mom looked up at me over her knees, the smile dropping from her face, then returned to her book. I kept my hand where it was, cupping her calf just below her knee. Mom dug her toe into my leg, but lighter this time. I circled my fingertip around the underside of her knee. Mom's smile widened.

I enjoyed watching TV for the next half hour. The Pathfinder lazily stroked up and down the inside of Mom's thighs while I struggled to keep my breath under control. I was pleased to note that Mom was facing a similar problem. I had reached the stage where the Pathfinder was staying near the roost when Mom suddenly snapped her book shut and swung her legs off the couch.

"Well, I think I'll go to bed early again," she announced. "I'm just so tire lately," she added, as if an explanation was warranted.

Mom got up and leaned down to give Dad a kiss. I couldn't wait. Only two minutes later, I informed Dad of my similar intention and hurried up the stairs. I stopped in Mom's open doorway. She hadn't yet undressed. Standing her back toward me, Mom reached behind herself with both hands and unzipped her dress. With a simple shrug and squiggle of her hips, she dropped the dress to the floor. The bra experience a similar fate a moment later. Mom's boss figure stood before me, adorned only in a brief pair of panties. I was amazed, because I knew she was aware of my presence, though she hadn't looked back. I was about to be more amazed.

Mom kneeled onto the bed, her breasts dangling as she leaned over on all fours, then stretched out on the mattress, lying face down. She grabbed a pillow, pulled it over her head, and was still.

My cock was rock hard. Was she inviting me? I looked back down the hall to check on Dad just in time to see the light in the living room snap off. He was coming up!

I scrambled down the hall and into my room, pushing the door almost shut. I listened to my father's footsteps as he tread up the stairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom. I peered through my door, ears perked for the slightest sound.

Category: Incest/Taboo Stories