Brushing Mom’s Hair-part1


Mom’s door was open and she was sitting in front of the mirrored dresser brushing her hair. Mom was dressed in a pale blue nightdress I had seen before, though I could only see the bit covering her hips and the lower six inches of her back; the rest was covered by her hair.”That’s so sweet,” Mom said as I put her mug down on the dresser in front of her. “Will you stay for a few minutes with me?” “Sure.” I took my mug over to the bed and sat down, tossing the tray behind me. I sipped hot chocolate and watched Mom brush her hair after taking a small drink from her mug.

With each stroke of the brush, her breasts stretched up to strain against the front of her nightdress.Mom took her drink and looked over to smile at me but she didn’t say anything. As I walked behind Mom, she thanked me again for being so thoughtful. Something made me stop. I leaned past Mom, set my empty mug beside hers, and stopped her hand in mid-stroke, relieving her of the brush.

“I’ll do it for you Mom,” I quietly offered my services.

“You don’t have to do that, Shailu.”

“I want to. Let me do it for you Mom.”

I was rewarded with a big smile. “Ok. That’s so sweet of you.” Mom adjusted her position on the seat, with a pleased wiggle as I began pulling the brush slowly and gently through her reddy brown hair.As I looked down, carefully brushing the hair beside Mom’s face, I realized that I had an unobstructed view of Mom’s chest, barely covered by the thin nightgown. It was readily apparent that Mom was not wearing a bra and this time, I could see the dark red spots encasing her nipples and a thrill rippled through me when I noticed her nipples poking into the silky material of her nightgown

“Put the brush down and massage my head like your father does.”

I worked my fingers over Mom’s head, gently massaging her scalp and then down to erase the stress lines from on her forehead, letting my fingers stretch down her cheeks and along her jaw line before returning to her head, the way I’d seen my father do it many times before.

“Mmmmmmmmm,” Mom sighed, slowly twisting her head and neck, making the constrained ball within my jeans grow another inch.

Maybe she didn’t realize what was happening to me. I was sure that her nipples were definitely longer and her breasts seemed firmer all around, rising more abruptly from her chest and just after that realization I was startled by the sound of my father’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Your father’s coming,” Mom whispered.

I pulled my hands away from her neck and face, her whispered warning suddenly making me see my touch as a caress. My hands returned to Mom’s scalp and her eyes opened just as Dad entered the bedroom. Why had she whispered?

my dad came went to bathroom , came out and slept.

I said I am going .

“No, don’t go,” Mom protested.

“Please. That felt so nice. Just a bit more,” Mom whined.

“Just do my scalp like before,” she spoke quietly, glancing at Dad.

“He’s been doing that for about a year now. He goes to sleep as soon as he’s in bed. He’ll start snoring in a couple of minutes.”

My fingers were threading through Mom’s hair, pulling it back and away from her face, revealing her relaxed smile. She just relaxed and let out a contented sigh. There was no adverse reaction about the back of her head resting on a lump that shouldn’t be there.

Somewhat mortified, I nevertheless continued Mom’s face and neck massage. What else could I do? As my fear melted away, my attention was once more captured by Mom’s chest. The dim light did little to reduce the illegitimate affect of her breasts, especially since they seemed to be more available than they had been a while ago. I looked closer.

Her breasts were covered but the nightgown draped more loosely over them. I could still see the dark color of her areolae and the jut of her nipples which seemed, if anything, to be longer now The straps of the nightgown had fallen off Mom’s shoulders to lay loosely on her upper arms, allowing the bodice to slip down her chest.

Her bare nipple was longer than it appeared when covered by the nightgown. My eyes darted quickly from one to the other. Oh, god. If only she wasn’t my Mom. I could reach down and grab those tits and squeeze them and lean over to suck that luscious nipple. Encouraged, I reckless extended my massage out to her shoulder and beyond, kneading the muscles in her upper arms, pushing in, loosening her nightgown even more and managing to brush her shoulder straps down toward her elbows.

Returning my hands to massage her neck and the sides of her face and throat, I eased back a half step, forcing Mom to lean further back like she had before. My cock slid higher into the groove in the back of her neck and I was surprised to sense bare skin

Her tits were both bare! Completely. The nightgown had slipped right over her breasts and they were both open for my inspection, heaving in unison with her heavier breathing.

I concentrated my massage on her face and neck again, sliding one hand gently over her entire face and rubbing the other up and down her throat, allowing my thumb to slip over onto her chin and briefly rest between her lips. After awhile, I let that thumb press down slightly and noticed that Mom left her lips parted, ready to welcome its return. my hand glided up her throat to cup her chin and my thumb inserted itself between her moist lips, even pressing into her mouth to caress the tip of her tongue.

Mom was breathing regularly and deeply, almost panting but not quite. Dad was now snoring just as deeply. My eyes were fixed on her tits, on that pair of long, stiff nipples. I dearly wanted to touch one. I could almost feel them in my mouth. Dare I touch one? No! That would be insane. But I couldn’t help thinking about it. God, how I wanted to.

I slid my other hand from the side of her face and inserted my finger into Mom’s mouth as my other hand closed over her tit, gently squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. I pushed my cock hard into Mom’s back and inserted my finger further into her mouth as if it was a cock seeking the bottom of her pussy. For a long couple of minutes I kept that up. My finger sliding slowly in and out of her mouth, hand pulsing over her right tit as if I was squishing a bulb, and my cock rubbing up and down her back.

This was insane. Unbelievable. Squeezing my mom’s tit, fingering her mouth and dry-humping her back with my father snoring less than ten feet away. Holy fuck.

It was the sudden snort from Dad that changed everything. Mom jerked upright, hunching over and turning away from Dad to sit sideways on the bench seat. I jerked my head in absolute fear to look at my father, leaning back on bent knees but hunched forward, my bare cock sticking out above the waistband of my pajamas. He was changing his position, turning on his side, facing toward us. His eyes were closed, but they could open at any minute. Move! Turn away. Get out! Why couldn’t I move?

“Brush my hair,” she hissed.

Dumbly I looked down at the hair covering her entire back and falling to her sides, concealing the state of her nightgown. My hand lurched toward the dresser, picked up the brush, and pressed it against the hair in the middle of her back. Dad’s eyes fluttered open but they didn’t seem to focus. He smiled at me and closed his eyes. His breathing began to deepen. My hand pushed the brush down through Mom’s hair.

I continued brushing Mom’s hair, my strokes lengthening as my fear subsided. Mom’s hands had slipped down to the side of my thighs, her fingers slipping around to grip their backs. Her forehead was against my stomach, face hidden. Dad’s breathing was almost to snore level, but not quite.

Mom’s hot breath suddenly blew over my cock I wanted to hold her tits again but I couldn’t do that without losing her wonderful maternal breath. I needed to cum!

A simple change of footing, one foot ahead of the other, and my thigh, just above my knee, pressed between Mom’s legs, making solid contact with the apex of their connection. Gently, I pressed my knee in, pushing my leg against her pussy, her covering warmth searing around my thigh and rising up to my groin. I timed my presses to her breaths, leaning forward whenever I felt her hot breath on my cock.

Gently, I urged her head forward again. She resisted but this time she was the weaker and slowly, slowly, I pressed her reluctant face closer to my cock. But not all the way. I couldn’t get her close enough to make contact though I could tell from the heat of her breath she was only millimeters away. God, what a tease. Please, please, let me touch your face, just once, that will be enough.

Then it happened. A thick, warm, wet slug pressed the underside of my cock, pushing, enveloping, sliding over me. Her tongue, her tongue, the thought crashed into my head. I was going to cum. The shock was too much. I could feel it gathering steam, starting to roil up my shaft. Her head was gouging into my stomach, her upper lip prying my head away, fighting against the strength of the two elastics keeping my cock tight to my skin. Hurry, my head yelled. It’s coming. The hot liquid left my balls, entering my shaft, rocketing up. My head tipped forward and Mom’s upper lip slipped over the top of my cock and her teeth grazed my head while her lower lip, softened by her tongue, sweetly tickled the underside of my glans. Splash, splash, splash. In the nick of time. I pushed, shoving more of my cock into Mom’s sweet mouth, gently nudging her tonsils. Squirt, squirt, squirt. I could hear her sucking, gulping, swallowing my copious treat, both hands now holding her head in place, the brush long since dropped to the carpet. She was sucking me now even though I was finished, pulling the dregs from my tip, letting me fuck her mouth with short strokes.

Finally, she pulled away. She didn’t look at me, swiveling around instead to face the dresser. Her face was turned down but I could see that her eyes were open. Her right hand stretched out, pointing down toward the floor, the strap of her nightgown hanging around her elbow.

“Hand me my brush before you go, please,” Mom’s said in a strangely disconnected voice.

I picked up the brush and placed it in her hand, turned, and walked away, feeling somewhat divorced from the situation myself.

“Shailu,” Mom’s soft voice caught up to me.

I stopped and turned. “Yes.”

“I like my hair brushed every night.” Her voice seemed to echo, like an offstage direction.

I nodded, noticing her eyes watching me in the mirror.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night then, after Dad’s asleep.”

“Ok.” I turned away again, shuffling toward the door.

“Shailu,” she called in her normal voice.


“Say goodnight to your mother.”

“Goodnight, Mom … I love you.”

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