"Don't move, Mom," Jack said, his tone gentle but firm. "Keep sitting—you've sprained your ankle." He knelt before her, his hands steady despite the fire coursing through his veins.
The kitchen was quiet, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as he positioned himself between her legs, his eyes locked on the prize.
Her skirt had ridden up, revealing the smooth expanse of her thighs.
Jack's fingers brushed the fabric, rolling it higher until it bunched at her hips. H
er white panties clung to her, the thin cotton outlining the delicate folds of her pussy, a faint dampness betraying her body's response.
"I'm going to take these off, Mom," he said, his voice low, almost reverent.
His palms slid down her thighs, warm and trembling, until his fingers reached her soft panties and hooked the waistband.
He tugged gently, the fabric sliding over her skin, revealing her bare pussy inch by inch.
The chestnut hair, slightly darker than her head, was neatly trimmed, framing the soft, pink lips that glistened faintly in the morning light.
He pulled the panties down her legs, slipping them off completely and setting them aside.
"This part needs a bit more cleaning," he said, standing to wash his hands at the sink.
He sprinkled water onto his fingers, the droplets catching the light as he returned to her, his movements an act, a performance of innocence.
Kneeling again, he spread her legs wider, her pussy fully exposed, inviting.
His fingers grazed her inner thighs, teasing the sensitive skin before brushing against her outer lips.
He rubbed slowly, sensually, his touch light but purposeful, circling the delicate folds.
Her skin was warm, slick with a mix of water and her own arousal, and as he pressed gently against her clit, she let out a soft gasp, her hips twitching involuntarily.
Jack's heart pounded, but he kept his face neutral, his eyes flicking up to hers.
Her cheeks were flushed, her hazel eyes wide with confusion and something else—something new.
He intensified his touch, his fingers sliding over her clit in slow, rhythmic circles, then dipping lower to trace the length of her slit.
Her breaths grew shallow, punctuated by small moans and gasps, sounds she didn't seem to realize she was making.
Her pussy quivered under his touch, the lips parting slightly to reveal the glistening pink within, begging for more.
"It needs to be cleaned inside, too," he murmured, his voice steady despite the heat pooling in his groin.
Before she could respond, he slipped one finger inside her, the tight warmth enveloping him.
For a woman of her maturity, she was impossibly snug, her walls clenching around him like a vice.
She tensed, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips, but Jack didn't pause.
His thumb found her clit, rubbing in slow, soothing circles as he whispered, "Relax, Mom. I've got this."
Her grip on the chair loosened, her body yielding to his touch.
He began to stroke, his finger sliding in and out, curling slightly to graze the sensitive spot inside her.
Her head rolled back, her chestnut hair spilling over her shoulders, and her face twisted into expressions she didn't know she was making—lips parted, eyes half-lidded, a flush creeping down her neck.