Chapter 7

Every once in a while, she would lift her leg and poke at the side of the bed beside me where I sat with my back against the headboard. She would hold her leg there, the muscles tensing as she pushed at the bed and relaxing as she released the pressure on the mattress. When she pulled her leg away to cross it on the other, her robe would slip a little higher up her thigh. She would then pull her robe together to cover her legs, but not every time. I could see more and more of the side of her thigh, the curve of her leg at the bottom drawing my eyes as it dropped down in a gradual swell out to the fullness of her thighs.

The first time she left her robe open was after she’d left her foot on the bed, continuing to ask me questions, her leg on full display the whole time. When she pulled her leg back, she didn’t cross it over the other one right away. Instead, she held the notebook up high, hiding her face, while her legs were openly displayed right up to the top of her thighs. She examined my notes like this for several minutes, allowing me to freely gaze at her open legs before saying, “Oh yes, here we are,” and casually crossed her legs again.

I had long since raised my knees to rest my head on them, partly to improve my view of her legs and partly to hide my raging boner. When Mom heard Dad come up the stairs and enter the bathroom to get ready for bed, she stood and leaned down to give me a kiss.

“Would you like me to help you study tomorrow night too, honey?”

I tried to look into her eyes but I couldn’t tear my own eyes away from the vista yielded by her parted robe as she bent over, a clear horizontal view inside her lacy, yellow nightgown revealing unencumbered, dangling breasts, nipples barely covered by the flimsy material. Mistaking my lack of response, she went on, “Well, you think about it and let me know.”

She stood and, hips swaying, walked to the door where she turned and smiled sweetly before she went out.

The next day, Mom wore a white blouse and heavily pleated skirt that fell to her knees. Although conservative, I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on her legs while she prepared dinner. I don’t think this was lost on her and she seemed pleased. As dinner ended, just as Dad was getting up to retire to the living room, Mom asked, “Are you going over to Donna’s to study tonight, dear?” As she finished her question, she brought her hand up to toy with the top button on her blouse, threading it loose after Dad left the kitchen and pushing her blouse apart a little. She gave me a funny little smile.

Although I had made arrangements to study with Donna, I changed my mind on the spot. “Uh, no. I thought … maybe, you could help me out again, Mom.”

“Oh, I’d be happy to. I like helping you, Frank.”

When I started to help clear up the dishes, Mom shooed me away. “You go get ready to study,” she insisted, “and I’ll be right up.”

I went to my room and changed into my pajamas. I couldn’t sit there for another hour in my jeans like the night before, bending the hell out of my dick. I dragged the desk chair closer to the bed so her feet would stretch right onto the bed against my leg or, if she pushed her feet on the edge of the mattress, her she’d have to lift and bend her knees, which would make her skirt slide up her thighs. Then I waited. I couldn’t help touching my dick and rubbing it, congratulating myself on my cleverness, while erotic images of my mother played in my head.

When she came, she was wearing the same floor length robe. I wasn’t disappointed because I was looking forward to it parting over her gorgeous legs as she stretched them from the chair to my bed. But Mom ignored the chair. She came directly over to the foot of the bed, kicked off her slippers, and sat on the end of the bed, crossing her legs indian style. Her legs were completely covered by her robe, and there was no way it could open to show her legs while she was sitting like that.

“Hand me your notes,” she commanded, stretching her hand out. I passed them over, disappointment turning to embarrassment as I shamefully realized that, in this new seating configuration, I was left with nothing to hide my still hard cock tenting my pajamas. I closed my legs together, trying to hide it. Mother didn’t seem to notice as she immediately launched into a series of questions.

As our interaction turned into a real study session, quite like my real visits with Donna, my hardon subsided. Just as I was really thinking about my exam, Mom stretched, arching her back as her arms reached up toward the ceiling. “Oh, I need a break,” she said, standing up. She walked in a little circle and stopped again at the end of the bed. Without saying anything, she toyed with the belt on her robe, loosening it slowly, and then pulled it completely undone. Opening the robe with her hands, she pulled it wide, holding it open for a moment, and then slipped it off her shoulders, wriggling her hips to help it fall to the floor. She stood there for another moment, clad only in her nightdress, before saying, “Are you comfortable studying with me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Mom. You’re great to study with,” I blurted out, closely examining her figure, her body hardly hidden by the thin material of her nightgown which fell short of her knees. The thin silky material clung to the side of her breasts despite the plunging, lace-lined neckline in the front, the holes in the lacy part providing tantalizing peeks at the skin underneath. She stretched again, her breasts bulging and almost parting her bodice.

“Good,” she said, “because I’m very comfortable studying with you, you know.”

She resumed her position on the bed, again crossing her legs, but this time they were bare, and her openness lifted the hem way up, so high I could see her panties. Instead of holding my notes in front of her, she laid them on the bed between us, leaning over to read, opening a gap in her bodice which allowed me a clear view of her bare breasts as they dangled slightly from her chest.

She asked questions slowly from then on. It was as if we both understood that studying was now peripheral to something else we were doing. As my cock hardened and bulged against my pajamas, I realized she could see it, just as I could see her panties from my similar vantage point. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to move lest I break the spell surrounding my bed. I kept my eyes steadily on her jiggling breasts, straining to peer down the gap in her nightgown as she leaned over, absurdly far, to read my notes.

Mom nudged the notes closer to me until the top edge pressed against the bottom of my legs. She grasped my ankles, pressing down on them to lift herself, and dragged herself forward closer to me, bringing her bent knees to rest under my legs that were stretched over hers so that my feet were planted on either side of her thighs. Her gaze fell to my tented pajamas.

“Is this how you study with Donna?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Is this how she lets you look at her?”

“Yes,” I lied again, “almost.”

“Almost?” Mom asked.

“She lets me touch her legs.” Truth had now been left far behind.

“Like this?” Mom took my hands and laid them on the upside of her knees where they were bent, her calves tightly squeezing against the bottom of her thighs. When she drew her hands away, I started to stroke her legs along the crease between her calves and the inside of her thighs.

“Yes,” I croaked out.

“Do my legs feel as nice as hers?”

“Better,” I croaked again.

“Better?” she smiled.

“Yes.”

She seemed pleased. “What else does she let you do?”

“She lets me look at her, up here,” I nodded at her chest. Pinnochio must be turning over in his grave. Mom looked skeptical.

“She does. Honest, Mom,” I lied shamelessly, holding the most innocent look I could muster on my face. I stared at her breasts intently. I let my palms fall flat against her leg, near the juncture of her thigh and her hip, my thumbs trailing down between her legs. I gently pinched her legs as I stared, as if to emphasize how important it was to see her breasts.

“You’re sure she lets you do that?”

“Yes, Mom. She really does.” I slid my hands deeper between her legs.

“Alright, then. But just a peek for now.” She reached down, grabbed the hem of her nightie and pulled it up, slowly. It seemed to take forever to bare her belly. It took even longer to clear the bottom of her breasts, but then there they were, her hands held up in front of her face, holding her nightgown, her tits springing out toward me.