Adoration of Mom
Tell me, has there ever been a group of guys whose conversations didn't include discussions about school teachers? I'm not talking about their professional competence and moral qualities, although that too. I'm talking about the fact that any self-respecting pubescent jerk is simply obliged to consider any female individual who hasn't let herself go to the state of an orangutan female, weighs less than a hundred kilograms, and is unlikely to have seen Iron Felix in person as something potentially suitable, if not for intercourse, then at least as a subject for masturbation. With teachers, it's simply impossible not to imagine this. Every Mary Ivanna presses several buttons at once, leading to increased attention from the boys. Firstly, all her charges are strongly dependent on her, and this has a certain exciting factor for them. That is, the desire to possess the one who has power over you is higher than the desire to possess an ordinary woman. At the same time, physical intimacy is out of the question due to the young age of the subjects. It's enough to possess information about her intimate life in the form of stories or pictures. Even if they are only stored in their heads. How can you not look under her skirt? And on top of that, the little bastards see her more often than their own reflection. Who else to jerk off to, if the alternatives are only unformed, angular classmates and the worn-out neighbor Lyuska?
Everything was the same in our ordinary class. Ordinary for everyone, except me. Our history teacher was not an object of interest for me, was not discussed in our group. Although no one could call her uninteresting. Not a model, always neatly and modestly dressed, she could make more than one man turn his head. Maybe it was her innocent appearance, which involuntarily attracts attention? You know, sometimes there's what they call a doll-like face. A sharp little chin, a small nose, thick bangs, and very small, plump lips. She even ate funny, opening her mouth wider to fit the spoon in. At the same time, the corners of her lips stretched vertically, just like Uncle Fyodor's mom from Prostokvashino. She didn't exactly have no breasts, but they resembled those of our Kristina Skobtseva, and even doctors hadn't prescribed a bra for her yet. She treated me and my friends especially. And there was a reason for that. She was my mom.
There wasn't much delight in the fact that my mother was also looking after me at school. Naturally, I fully participated in the sexual life of the class. That is, I discussed girls in every possible way and stared at playing cards with spreads of overseas whores. The math teacher and the music teacher also got their share. Only not a single word was said about the history teacher in my presence. I didn't attach any importance to this until I began to notice that my mom was also an object of increased interest for my friends. kkiss18.net The culmination of such observations was the case when mom came to school in a short, tight white dress and high heels. I had only seen her like that maybe once or twice. She was going to the theater and didn't have time to go home and change. In this amazing outfit, she walked between the rows of desks and read something aloud. That's when I saw how my classmates were looking at her. More precisely, at her butt, tightly wrapped in thin fabric with the protruding seams of her small panties. Her petite breasts no longer seemed too small, a rather deep neckline shamelessly revealed the hollow between her breasts without a crease and with a small mole, and a tight bra lifted her hemispheres into impressive bulges. The nails on her thin fingers were painted silver, and on her small (size 35) feet in transparent black stockings, red nail polish could be guessed. The lesson ended, mom evaporated along with the scent of her perfume, and I went to the toilet. I had just closed the stall door when three or four sheep from our class barged in. The conversation I heard had apparently started earlier.
— Above the knees, I'm telling you!
— Definitely above! You could see her knees! And you could see her panties under the dress. I got a boner! I thought, if she calls on me now — I'll be disgraced. I'm sitting there, jerking off in my pocket.
— Nikolasha — that's what they called my mom — is like a girl! Would you fuck her, huh?
— Do you think someone's fucking her? They said someone was seeing her home from the technical school. Kerya knows for sure. We need to ask.
— And how will you ask? Kerya, is someone fucking your mommy, or what?
— And did you see her legs?! Like a little horse's. Thin. I love those.
— Imagine, maybe we can somehow hook up with her?
— How? You're an idiot, Boryan.
— Well, she's single, sort of. She meets people online and all that. We need to start something with her under a fake name. I'll check today if she's on Odnoklassniki or somewhere else. We'll hook up!
I sat there and forgot why I had gone to the john. I felt like I'd been hit with a sack. Could this really be about my Irina Nikolaevna?! My face turned red from such excitement, my pulse was pounding in my temples, and my hand clenched my dick on its own. I had never masturbated like that before! I ran home like a greyhound on a track. I'll help my dumbass friends hook up with mom!
So now I looked at my mother as I had never looked at her in my life. I suddenly realized what she represented for my friends and I myself began to live by observing her. It's crazy, what was a secret lust for my buddies was always available to me. What they needed to invent something for, I could see and feel without any difficulty. I saw her through others' eyes and could no longer look at her differently. She aroused me! I re-examined my mom and paid attention to things that had been indifferent to me before! Here she is sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, watching TV, and her shamelessly hitched-up robe reveals her bare legs and pubic area in panties, through which you can see a few protruding hairs, and even hairs on the inner thigh. Here she is washing the floor and I see her legs with straight calves and slightly yellowish heels. Here's her photo from the beach and I'm looking at it not as I should, but searching for the hollow below her stomach and her toes. And here are her panties in the dirty laundry with white smears of something feminine, a bra with the warm smell of nipples and some yellowish stain. And now I'm already jerking off my dick with her little shoe, rubbing it with her panties and cumming on them. Was I ashamed? Not at all! I didn't even think about it.
I started secretly taking photos of her with my phone and posting them on dating sites, blurring her face. I waited for comments from strangers and they poured in like peas! I imagined mom as a promiscuous woman selling herself for money. Oh, how exciting that was! "Cool whore! How much for a blowjob in the car?", "Can you service two at once?", "Where do you live, give me your number, I'll come and fuck you like a bitch!" How exciting that was! In the photos, she was in different poses, I only chose those that looked like photos taken with her consent. Her face isn't visible, she's lying on the bed stretching out her bare legs, the focus is on her feet with a pedicure, another photo where she's leaning forward, lowering her arms and raising her chin, showing slightly visible breasts under her robe. And here she is squatting, shamelessly sticking out her butt and spreading her legs slightly apart. No one knows that at that time she was reading a book, washing the floor, and getting a dog toy from under the couch. I didn't have the courage for something more serious, like peeking into the bathroom. But my phone did. And after I learned to hide it in the laundry basket and film my completely naked mom, everything moved to a new level. I already had real pornographic photos of I. N. Sklyarikova in my hands, and only I was their owner. The internet resource was enriched with amazing photos, commentators howled with delight and excitement. My dick hurt relentlessly...
To be continued tomorrow.