She paused for a bit and ran her fingers through her hair. “What did you hope would happen when you started all this? Was your goal to fuck me?”
Hearing her say fuck, surprised me.
“No. My goal wasn’t to fuck you, but to see your glorious breasts.”
“Were you telling the truth before? About masturbating and thinking about me?” She suddenly looked perplexed.
I could feel myself blushing. “Yes, I do think about you. Yes, I do know what you smell like between your legs. And yes, I will use the image of you in the bathtub in the future.”
She nodded absently, as if that made sense. “So, mission accomplished, and you’re back on a normal track?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“No?” She arched her eyebrows at me expectantly.
“That was before we kissed.”
Her face softened immediately. “Honey, that was a…a….that wasn’t a kiss. Not the way you’re thinking about it. I shouldn’t have done that tongue in the ear thing, either – it turned out differently than I intended.”
“No, that’s the problem, Mom. Those both turned out differently because you won’t admit how it felt.”
She shrugged apologetically. “I feel like we’re in an endless loop. We’re back to whether or not your reaction was emotional or chemical.”
“And I think that’s stupid, because you are basically arguing that the proof of me being unable to understand intimacy on your level is that I am unable to understand intimacy on your level.”
She thought about this for a minute. Sighing, she shrugged. “You may be right; I don’t know.”
“Truth or dare.” I challenged.
“What?” she asked, confusion on her face.
“Truth or dare. I think you felt just as much on that kiss as I did, but you’re afraid if you admit it and it make you uncomfortable. So, let’s deal with your intimacy theory one step at a time. We take turns. You can choose truth, or you can choose dare, but whatever the other person gives you, you have to do.”
She looked skeptical. “What’s the point? And the limits? What are the borders?”
“The point is that there is no limit. There are no borders. With that much solution space, you should be able to prove to me that I do not understand intimacy. On the other hand, I think that I can prove to you that this is about me trusting you and you trusting me. That’s key for intimacy, wouldn’t you agree?”
She looked unconvinced. “I’ll try it. But I’ll tell you up front, I’m not real hopeful. Who starts?”
“My idea; I’ll go first. You ask me ‘truth or dare’?”
“Okay, truth or dare?”
“Dare” I answered.
“Anything?” she verified
“Anything,” I confirmed.
“I dare you to take off your pants and your underwear.”
In retrospect, I think she immediately regretted the dare when she saw me comply. I think she thought the game would end immediately, and we could move on to what she considered more productive conversation. She was first surprised, and then somewhat embarrassed as I sat bare ass naked in the kitchen chair, with my hard cock staring at my chin. She stared it for a few seconds, then decided to stare off into space.
“Truth or dare?” I challenged.
“Truth,” she said without hesitation. She wasn’t taking the chance that we would both be sitting naked at the table.
“Have you ever cheated on Dad?” I asked.
“No. I haven’t. But I’m starting to appreciate the implications of this game. If I had cheated on your Dad, would I have the courage and trust to tell you? Interesting.”
“Truth or Dare?” she asked.
“Dare,” I answered.
“Suck on my toes.” she dared, after thinking for a few seconds.
I never really understood how she planned to interpret my response to this dare regarding her concerns about my comprehension of intimacy. She was still trying to test whether this was truly a game without limits.
I carried my chair to her side of the table, my cock waving back and forth like a willow tree in a windstorm. She couldn’t take her eye off it.
I patted my thighs and looked at her bare feet. With a sort of bemused anticipation, she lifted her feet onto my lap. I scooted a little closer to get some flex in her knees, then lifted her right foot and began nibbling on her toes. My tongue caressed each one in order. I got in between each one, and at times I had multiple toes in my mouth. I put down her right foot and started on her left. The slight parting of her legs gave me a view of her wet panties. I looked up, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow. As I put her foot back down, I rubbed it against my hard cock.
“Truth or dare?” I asked.
“Truth,” she replied, without hesitation.
“Have you ever been intimate with another woman?” I asked.
“Nope.” She replied. “Never even been vaguely interested. Why?” she asked.
“No reason,” I answered, “just finding out who you are.”
“Truth or dare?” she asked me without needing to be prompted. She seemed to be getting into the spirit of the game.
“Dare.”
She laughed briefly. “We seem to have a pattern here. You’re afraid of the truth, and I’m afraid of a dare.”
I returned her gaze levelly. “Actions speak louder than words.”
She smiled. “Okay, here’s a dare that combines actions and words. Describe ME in as much detail as you can.”
I gathered my thoughts. I lifted her feet, went and poured myself another couple fingers of Seagram’s and sat back down. I returned her feet to my lap.
“Is that uncomfortable?” my mom asked, pointing with her chin at my hard cock. “Would it be better with pants on?”
I smiled at her. “Describe you. Okay. You’re kind. You’re patient. Despite all of the grief I’ve given you, you’re really smart.”
My mom smiled appreciatively at that.
I continued, “Your best facial feature is your eyes. They telegraph everything; when you are going to smile, what you are going to yell, when you are deep in thought. They crinkle at the edges, and it just looks stunning. Your hair looks best like it is right now. Shampooed, air dried, just sort of wherever it happens to be. My absolute favorite thing is your hugs. I love to bury my nose in your tangled hair and just…smell you. Even though you would consider yourself a few pounds overweight, I find you incredibly sexy!”
My mom began shaking her head in dismissal of my appraisal.
“I’m right. When you go to the beach, guys stare at you. Every single part of you complements another part of you. You can ignore me if you want, but the fact remains that you’ve got great tits, and nobody fills out a pair of jeans nicer than you. The whole of you adds up to something much better than the parts of you. And you know what is really weird? The actual you, is ten times better than my imaginary you ever was.”
I took a sip of the whiskey.
“I think you’ve got the body of a goddess and I wish I could kiss every freckle on it.”
Mom’s face was void of any expression. I could see she was fighting hard to keep something under control, but I wasn’t sure what. Finally, a single tear escaped from one eye.
“Is that sad, or happy?” I asked.
“It’s…overwhelmed.” She answered truthfully.
“Truth or dare?” I asked.
“Dare,” she said, very softly.
My heart pounded, as I asked her my dare. “Put your fingers inside you and then let me taste them.”
“That’s not intimacy,” she protested.
“It’s not a chemical reaction, either”, I responded.
She stood up, untied her robe, hooked her thumbs inside her panties, slid them down her legs, and stepped out of them. She resumed the same basic position she had taken during the “get wet” challenge, with her knees bent, and her heels up next to her ass, only this time there was nothing left to the imagination between her legs. I watched as she rubbed herself briefly, gently, and then one red polished nail disappeared into the dark brownish-pink flesh. I glanced at her face, and she was watching me intently. A second finger slipped in, and she moved them rhythmically, deeper and deeper. She pulled them out of her wet pussy and extended that hand toward me.
I took each finger into my mouth in turn and enveloped it until the taste of her was gone.
“What do I taste like?” she asked.
I smiled. “I’ll take that as my truth question,” but my mom was very serious.
“You taste musky, with dry white wine mixed with honey and salt.”
“If this game is about telling the truth, then I think you just forfeited,” my mother accused in a husky, shaky voice.
I reached forward slowly and stroked her pussy lightly. I could see her stomach contract as she inhaled sharply at my touch. Her labia were slippery and wet, and I slowly inserted my first two fingers. I watched her face for any discomfort as I slid them both into the last knuckle. As I gradually withdrew them, she rocked her pelvis slightly. I brought my fingers up to her lips and rubbed the thick wetness across them. She licked her lips, and then my fingers.
“Do you agree I told the truth and am still in the game?” I questioned.
“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” she said.
She let the robe slide off her shoulders, moved to me and sat across me, straddling my lap. She pulled my face close to hers and kissed me, first softly, and then again, with more abandon. Her left hand reached between us, and she stroked me. My hands ran over the curves of her shoulders, the slope of her waist, the spread of her hips. I kissed her eyes, her ears, her forehead and found her mouth again.
She inched closer and I could feel the moistness and the heat from between her legs on my cock.
I ran my hands down the length of her back and let my right one explore the crack of her ass. When I touched her anus, she squeezed my neck so tightly I could barely breathe, and her tongue went deep in my mouth. I moved my hand away and felt her relax, and I rubbed my other hand through her hair. I returned my hand to her ass and pulled her closer.
She grabbed my cock with almost primal urgency and started trying to guide it inside of her. I could feel her warm lubrication sliding across the head of my penis, and I knew that I was seconds away from shooting semen all over her. I put both hands on her waist and slid her away.
She pulled her face away from my lips and looked at me with a cross of hunger and impatience. Her breathing was ragged, and she had not released her grip on my cock. I took her hand away, lifted her up and sat her on the kitchen table.
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