.." Mom said, leaving the sentence hanging as she slipped into my room "where's mark?" I asked, sitting up and already knowing the answer, "he's not asleep already is he?" No... he's gone home already... it seems he can't perform well under pressure." Mom replied, deflated "so he just didn't do it for you," I said getting more interested in the conversation. "well... no... I guess not," Mom complained as she sat next to me on my bedside. "oh well, you can't win all the time," I said, as I put my hands behind my head and lay back. "Oh!..." let out Mom as she turned to see the shape of my Throbbing solid shaft quite visible through my boxer shorts. "Oh, Honey!" she repeated, staring at my crotch area.Then I felt it, an odd yet not entirely unenjoyable tickling coming up my thigh before I caught sight of my Mother spider walking her fingers towards my penis. I was frozen in place as I watched moms hand slink inside my waistband and grasp hold of my engorged member at the very base. Then. Sometimes her smile looks almost knowing. Sometimes inviting. Sometimes as if she knows exactly what she is causing. Sometimes innocent.And it gets me hot and bothered.The other day, I needed to tell her something and when I called to hear where she was, she called softly and said: "I'm here - in the washing room". Knocking on the door again, I made sure that I do not intrude, as it is also the room in which she changes into her working clothes.Her dress sense is modern and she likes earthy colours. Golden browns and dark greens and tans and soft greys. In trousers and blouses and knitted jerseys. All of which, gently, eludes to her rather busty profile.Anyhow, as I opened the door, she looks at me and asks what it is. I found myself rather unprepared for what I was to ask, as my mind went searching. After moments, I utter: "Would you please make sure that the bedding is changed in the guest room." And she smiles - the knowing one again.This made me rather nervous and I looked at her.
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