Skip to content This is part 2 of the Mother’s Orgasm series. If you want to read part 1, click here: My Mom Squirted
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I woke up the next morning with a knot of guilt in my stomach. What I’d done, watching my mother masturbate and squirt, felt both thrilling and shameful.
I spent most of the day out of the house, wandering around town and trying to clear my head, but my thoughts kept circling back to those images of her in the bathtub. Julia was still sick, so she couldn’t help me clear my mind either.
During the evening, I tried to meditate till Mom came home. And eventually, Mom walked in, looking tired in her pencil skirt and white blouse that hugged her curves … those same curves I’d recently seen.
“Hey, how was your day?” I asked.
She set her purse down with a wince. “Challenging. I hurt my hand trying to move a coffee table at a property I’m staging.” She held up her right hand, which was now wrapped in a white bandage.
“That looks painful. Are you okay?” I moved toward her, genuinely concerned.
“I’ll be fine, just a sprain.” She smiled before giving me a serious look. “Listen, honey, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
My stomach dropped. “What is it?”
She sat down on the couch and patted the spot beside her. I sat down next to her. “Yesterday, when you came home early… did you see something you weren’t supposed to see?”
My heart began hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears. “I … I don’t know what you—” The words got stuck in my throat, and I wasn’t sure how to get them out.
“Take your time,” she said softly, her eyes showing no anger, just gentle understanding.
“What do you mean exactly?” I asked, playing dumb even as my cheeks burned hot.
Mom sighed, her eyes holding mine steadily. “I’m talking about when I was in the bathtub. I thought I heard something in the hallway before you said you were home.”
The jig was up. I felt my face flush crimson as I looked down at my hands. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to spy on you. I just … I came home and heard. .. and then I couldn’t …” I trailed off, unable to finish. I was guilty.
To my surprise, she reached out with her unbandaged hand and touched my knee. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”
I looked up. “You’re not?”
She shook her head, a slight smile playing on her lips. “Actually, if I’m being completely honest, it kind of turned me on, knowing I was being watched.”
“It did?”
“Yes.” She shifted slightly, crossing her legs. “You’re an adult now. I think we can have an honest conversation about these things.”
The tension in the room thickened. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you … do that a lot? Masturbate, I mean.”
She laughed. “Every day, usually. It helps with the stress. This job can be intense, and well … it’s been a while since I’ve had a partner.”
I nodded, trying to process this new information as heat began pooling in my groin again. The conversation was making me hard, and I shifted uncomfortably on the couch to hide it from her. “I understand.”
“You aren’t feeling awkward, are you?”
“No,” I said. “It’s just we haven’t talked about this before.”
“I understand. Are you hungry?” she asked to change the topic. “I can order something.”
“Sure,” I replied, grateful for the chance to hide my obvious boner.
She’d ordered a spaghetti lobster dish, which was quite tasty. Leaving the sexual topics aside, we talked about her listings, my classes, everything except what had happened. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about her naked body, her pleasure and the sounds she made.
After we finished eating and cleaning up, Mom yawned. “I think I’ll head to bed. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said, though sleep was the last thing on my mind.
As we reached the top of the stairs, she paused. “Just so you know, I might be a bit … loud tonight. In my bedroom.” Her eyes met mine, and there was no mistaking her meaning. “There’s no point in hiding it now that you know.”
My cock twitched in response. “That’s … that’s fine.”
She smiled. “Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight, Mom.”
In my room, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Every creak and rustle from her bedroom next door made my cock twitch and throb. I was rock hard, imagining her touching herself and imagining her fingers sliding between her legs.
But the sounds I expected didn’t come. A few minutes passed. Then ten. I heard shifting, a soft sigh, but nothing like the passionate moans from yesterday, followed by the legendary squirt.
Then, unexpectedly, she called for me, “Honey? Can you come here for a minute?”
I froze. Was she calling me?
“Sweetie?” she called again, her voice soft but clear.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, adjusting my obvious erection in my pajama pants. I walked to her door and hesitated.
“Are you … clothed?” I asked through the wood.
She chuckled. “You saw everything yesterday, didn’t you?”
Taking a deep breath, I turned the handle and stepped inside. The sight before me stole my breath away. Mom lay on her bed completely naked, her legs slightly parted, one hand resting on her stomach. Next to her on the bedspread lay her purple dildo and a small silver vibrator. The bedside lamp illuminated her, highlighting her thighs, her pinkish vagina and her bell-shaped breasts with a natural cleavage and topped with peachy nipples.
“I have a small favor to ask,” she said, her lips curving in a smile. “My hand is really bothering me, and I can’t quite… get there on my own.” She gestured vaguely toward her exposed sex. “Would you be a good boy and help your mother out?”
“I… yes, of course,” I said. “I’d love to help you.”
I approached the bed slowly, sitting down on the edge beside her. From this position, I had an unobstructed view of her naked body, her full breasts with their hardened, thick peachy nipples, the flat plane of her stomach, and the glistening pink vagina between her thighs, naturally lubricated. My erection strained painfully against my pajama pants, and when I drew in a deep breath, all I could smell was her sweet musk.
“I’m not really sure what to do,” I admitted, my hands trembling slightly.
She smiled, her eyes warm with maternal affection. “I’ll guide you, honey. Start by touching me here.” She took my right hand with her uninjured one and placed it on her inner thigh. Her skin felt soft beneath my fingertips.
“Now move higher,” she instructed. “Slowly.”
I slid my hand up her thigh until my fingers brushed against her outer lips. They were slick with arousal.
“That’s it,” she said. “You’ll want to wet your fingers first.”
I brought my hand to my mouth, but she caught my wrist. “No,” she said playfully. “Let me do it.”
She pulled my hand to her mouth and slowly, deliberately, drew two of my fingers between her lips. Her tongue swirled around them, coating them in warm saliva. The sensation sent shockwaves straight to my groin.
When she released my hand, I returned it to her center. Under her guidance, I began to circle her clit with gentle strokes.
“That’s perfect,” she sighed, her hips already beginning to move beneath my touch. “Now slip one finger inside me.”
I did as she asked, sliding my middle finger into her warmth. She was tight, wet, and so hot it almost burned, and I didn’t only feel that burn on my fingers, but chest and cock as well.
“Oh god,” she moaned, her back arching slightly. “Add another finger, baby.”
As I pushed a second finger inside her, stretching her gently, she gazed up at me with half-lidded eyes. “Do you know what I’d love?” she whispered.
“What?” I asked, mesmerized by the way her body responded to my touch.
“I’d love if you tasted me. Lick your hand.”
Without hesitation, I withdrew my fingers and brought them to my mouth. The flavor of her arousal exploded across my tongue, tangy, sweet, and musky. I closed my eyes, enjoying it.
“You like how Mommy tastes?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.
“God, yes,” I groaned, returning my fingers to her pussy.
I began to pump them in and out of her, curling them slightly upward with each thrust, seeking that spot I knew made Julia squirm. Mom’s reaction was immediate, her hips bucked against my hand as she let out a guttural moan that sent heat flooding through my entire body.
“Right there,” she gasped, her thighs beginning to tremble. “Don’t stop, baby. Please don’t stop.”
I watched in awe as her body responded to my touch. Her breasts heaved with each breath, nipples hardening to diamonds. Her stomach muscles tightened as she thrust her hips to meet my fingers, grinding against my palm. The slick sounds of my fingers pumping in and out of her filled the room, mixing with her increasingly desperate moans. She just became wetter and wetter. It felt like rubbing a warm, soaked sponge.
“Come closer,” she said, reaching for me with her good hand. “I want to see your face when I come.”
I leaned forward, positioning my face directly above hers. Her eyes locked with mine, pupils blown wide with desire. There was something primal about watching my mother lose control beneath my touch, something forbidden yet utterly irresistible.
“Faster,” she said, her voice breaking as her inner walls began to clench around my fingers.
I listened and did as I was instructed, increasing both speed and pressure, curling my fingers with each thrust to hit that special spot inside her. Her moans deepened.
“I’m going to … oh god, I’m—” Her words dissolved into a cry of ecstasy as her back arched off the bed. Her thighs clamped around my hand, and suddenly a warm gush of fluid erupted from her, spraying across my face and chest.
The sensation shocked me, but only heightened my arousal as I felt her sweet nectar dripping down my cheeks and chin. Her body convulsed with aftershocks as I slowly withdrew my fingers from her pulsing center.
“Oh my god,” she gasped, collapsing back against the pillows. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, a flush spreading across her skin. After a moment, her eyes widened as she took in my soaked face. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to make such a mess.”
I wiped some of her fluid from my cheek and deliberately tasted it, maintaining eye contact. “Don’t apologize. That was incredibly hot, Mom.”
A smile spread across her face, part relief and part pride. She reached for a small towel on her nightstand and sat up, gently dabbing at my wet face.
“You’re such a good boy,” she murmured, her fingers lingering on my cheek. “You made Mommy feel so good.”
The praise sent a shiver down my spine. I was painfully hard now, my erection straining against the thin fabric of my pajamas, but something told me this wasn’t the moment to address it.
She seemed to read my thoughts. “You should get some sleep now.”
“Sure,” I said.
She pressed her lips to my forehead, leaving a damp patch of skin behind. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too.”
To be continued
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