It was a beautiful day to go to an anime event. The warm breeze blew the banners on the stands, mixing the smell of hand rolls and soy sauce with that of the crowd. I, Valerie, felt right at home. My black crop top, long sleeves, buttoned up the front, open in a V-neck as far as good taste allowed. My light-colored jeans, the high-waisted kind that hug me where they should, tight at the waist, snug at the hips. A youthful look. Daring. Confident.

I walked, unhurried, from one booth to another. I noticed the stares, of course. The young guys, dressed up or not, followed me with their eyes. That... that boosted my ego. I felt a pleasant warmth in my lower abdomen. Knowing that I could still paralyze them with my curves, at forty-five, was frightening. I stopped in front of a stand displaying figurines, feigning interest in a statue of a character I didn't even know. And there, in the crooked reflection of the glass display case, I saw him.

A boy. Thin, wearing a dark anime sweatshirt. He had his phone in his hand, but he wasn't looking at the screen. He was holding it at just the right angle. And I noticed, in the glass, the movement of his arm following me as I walked away.

My butt. He was recording my butt.

How cheeky, I thought. And a slow smile began to form on my face. How cheeky and how... exciting.

I didn't turn around suddenly. No. I let him follow me a little longer. I headed for a less crowded area, near the portable toilets. I felt his presence a few feet away, the camera probably still on. I stopped, took out my own phone as if to check something, and at that moment, I turned around.

I caught him red-handed. The phone was at my waist, the screen clearly showing my butt in those light-colored jeans that today seemed to be painted on me.

His eyes, green and huge, opened wide. He turned pale. A choked sound, an “uh...,” escaped from his throat.

I approached him. Calmly. A predator's walk.

“Do you like what you see?” I asked, my voice low and honeyed. I stopped right in front of him. He was tall, but he shrank, seeming to want to disappear into his sweatshirt.

He swallowed. “I... no... it wasn't meant to...”

“For your personal archive, I know,” I cut in, smiling. I took another step. Our bodies were almost touching. I could see the panic on his face, the sweat on his temple. I raised a hand and pointed to his phone, still in his trembling hand. “You have a good eye, really. But, you know, recording without permission is pretty ugly. Don't you think?”

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I'll delete it, right away, I'll...”

“Ah, not so fast,” I said, and my smile widened. My gaze dropped to his phone, then back to his eyes. “That evidence... could be useful. Look at me.”

He reluctantly looked up. His pupils were dilated.

“There are security cameras here,” I lied, completely naturally. “And I know the organizers. Quite well. I could have them check the recordings, find your face... and my butt on your phone. It would be quite a scene, wouldn't it? The perverted guy kicked out of the expo.”

His breathing became short gasps. “Please...”

“‘Please’ won't do,” I said softly. I took another step, the index finger of my free hand resting lightly on his chest through the fabric of his sweatshirt. I felt him shudder. “I need something more convincing.”

“W-what?” he whispered.

“I need a servant,” I replied, as if asking for a glass of water. “For today. Someone to help me, to keep me company. Someone... obedient. If you agree, this video never happened. If not...” I left the threat floating in the hot air between us.

He blinked, bewildered. He looked around, as if searching for a way out. There wasn't one. He nodded, a sharp shake of his head. “Okay. Whatever.”

“Excellent,” I said, removing my finger. “First order: delete that video in front of me. Now.”

With hands that didn't quite obey him, he unlocked his phone, found the file, and deleted it. He did it slowly, as if saying goodbye to a treasure. I watched, arms crossed, which made the neckline of my crop top tighten a little more. I noticed that, even in his panic, his gaze drifted there for a split second.

“Good,” I nodded. “What's your name, servant?”

“Leo,” he said, almost without a voice.

“Valerie,” I introduced myself. “But you will call me ‘Lady Valerie’. Is that clear, Leo?”

“Yes... Lady Valerie.”

His shyness was... delicious. That vulnerability, that way of not knowing where to put his hands. It excited me. Pure truth.

“Well, Leo,” I said, relaxing my posture. “Now that the formalities are clear... I'm hot. And a little hungry. Do you like ice cream?”

He seemed taken aback by the turn. “Yes... yes, I like it.”

“Perfect,” I smiled, turning on my heels. “Treat me. It's your duty as a servant to pamper your Mistress. Come on, over there.”

I walked, and he trotted alongside me, keeping a respectful distance. I, on the other hand, slowed down so he could catch up.

“Don't walk like a beaten puppy.” I said, without looking at him. “Relax. After all, we're now... friends. Under peculiar circumstances.”

We ordered two cones. Chocolate for me, vanilla for him. While we waited, I leaned on the railing, turning my back to the crowd, and therefore to him. I could feel his gaze on me, on the bare waist exposed by my crop top, on the curve of my hips accentuated by my jeans. I let him look at me. Let him feast his eyes on my curves.

“What's your favorite anime, Leo?” I asked, taking a slow lick of my ice cream, capturing his attention again.

“Uh... ‘Attack on Titan,’” he said, hurriedly.

“Oops, already a classic,” I replied, looking at him over my shoulder. “I like things with romance better. Or seinen. Things with more... nuance. More depth.” I took another lick, this time letting a little ice cream slide down the edge of the cone. I wiped it off with my thumb, cynically slow. “Life isn't just action and titans, you know? Sometimes it's more about... subtleties.”

He nodded, eating his ice cream as if he were in a hurry. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Don't assume,” I said softly. “Learn. Look around you,” I gestured broadly. “People of all ages, enjoying the same thing. Passion has no expiration date, Leo. I've been watching anime since before you were born, probably.”

“Really?” he asked, and for the first time there was a hint of curiosity in his voice, above the fear.

“Seriously,” I confirmed, turning to face him. “Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball... when they aired on broadcast TV. That doesn't make me old, huh?” I said with a low laugh. “Just... experienced.”

He smiled shyly. “No, you don't seem old.”

“‘You seem,’” I repeated playfully. “And what do you seem, Leo?”

He choked on his ice cream. “You seem... youthful. Confident.”

I moved a little closer. The vanilla scent of his breath mingled with the chocolate of mine. “Youthful and confident,” I murmured. “I like how that sounds. Now, tell me, what were you thinking when you were filming me?”

The smile faded. “I shouldn't have done it, I know...”

“That's not what I'm asking,” I cut in, softly but firmly. “I'm asking what you were thinking. At the time. Admitting your curiosity won't make you any more guilty. You already are.”

He looked at the floor, then at his shoes. His ear was turning red. “I was thinking... that you had an amazing body. That... that those jeans...”

“Really?” I encouraged him, my voice a whisper. “What about the jeans?”

“They fit her perfectly,” he blurted out, as if it took physical effort to say it. “You looked... really good.”

A deep, satisfying warmth spread through my belly. “Thank you,” I said, and the gratitude sounded genuine. “That's nice to hear. Even if the methods were... questionable.” I took the last bite of my ice cream. He did the same, clearly relieved that the interrogation was over.

“Well, Servant Leo,” I said, discarding the paper. The Lady has a need. A physiological one. Come with me."

I walked toward the row of portable toilets, located in a semi-hidden corner behind a large video game stand. The loud music from the main stage helped cover the noise in the area. I stopped in front of the door to one of the stalls.

“Wait here,” I ordered. “Don't move. And... keep an eye out. Don't let anyone else try to do the same thing you're doing.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but just nodded. He leaned against the metal wall, crossing his arms, looking away forcefully.

I went inside. The space was narrow, clean. I looked at myself in the small, fogged-up mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes bright. The excitement, the tension, the control... it was an intoxicating combination. I adjusted my crop top, running my hands over my abdomen. Then I turned and looked at the door. Through the thin slit in the ventilation above, I could see a fragment of his sweatshirt. He was waiting. Obeying.

A slow, twisted idea began to form in my mind.

I opened the door just a crack. His figure tensed instantly.

“Leo,” I called, in a tone that was not a whisper, but not a full voice either. “I need something else.”

He approached cautiously. “What's wrong?”

“The thing is, these buttons on the front,” I said, pointing to my crop top, “I can't do them up. With my hands like this... I can't. Come here.”

I pulled him by the arm, harder than I expected, and pulled him into the portable bathroom with me. The door closed behind him with a dull click. The space suddenly felt intimate. Cramped. We could hear our breathing, the faint hum of the light.

He was petrified, pressed against the door, his eyes scanning the tiny cubicle as if looking for a place where he couldn't see me.

“Relax,” I said, and my voice sounded different here, deeper, closer. “I just need you to help me with this. See?”

I showed him the buttons on the front of the crop top. My fingers brushed the first one. “They're small. My nails...” I didn't finish the sentence. I just looked at him.

He looked at the buttons, then at my face, then back at the buttons. His throat moved. He reached out a trembling hand, and his cold fingers brushed my skin as he searched for the first button.

The air inside the cabin thickened. The sound of metal expanding in the heat was the only thing breaking the silence, apart from our breathing. He undid the first button. Then the second. With each little click, the V-shaped opening of the neckline widened, revealing more skin, more of the curve of my breasts contained by the black lace bra I wore underneath.

His breathing became more audible. A slight, trapped, restless gasp.

Leo froze. His eyes fixed on the opening of my crop top where the black fabric gave way, revealing the lace of my bra and the fleshy swell of my breasts. His mouth, half open. His breathing, a short, irregular hiss that filled the heavy air of the bathroom. I could feel his gaze like a physical, warm weight on my skin.

A restlessness, alive and electric, began to rise inside me. It wasn't nervousness, no. It was the anticipatory tingle of a game that only I knew the rules to. Let him look, I thought. Let him see what he never thought he would touch.

I moved slowly, feigning discomfort. I adjusted my bra over the fabric of my crop top, a false, clumsy gesture. My fingers got tangled in the lace, pulling on a strap that wasn't bothering me at all.

“Do you like what you see there, Leo?” I asked, my voice sounding rough, a little mocking. Don't play dumb. I can see it on your face. And in... other places."

He blinked, shaken. “I... wasn't...”

“No,” I cut him off, softly. “Don't apologize. Your nervousness, your desperation, is cute. But don't apologize.”

Instead of asking him to look away, I turned around. In the narrow space of the bathroom, it was a calculated move. My back was facing him, and then, with calculated slowness, I leaned back slightly. The dense, rounded volume of my buttocks, trapped by my light-colored high-waisted jeans, made firm contact against his crotch.

The result was instantaneous. A hard, thick bulge pressed against the curve of my butt through our clothes. I felt it all. The shape, the tension. Leo let out a muffled sound, a moan caught in his throat. His body stiffened, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't. He was trapped between my body and the metal door.

Just the way I like it.

I started the game. A slight movement of my hips, just a sway. Rubbing my butt against the erection bulging in his pants. A slow, sideways rub that made the fabric of his jeans stretch even tighter.

“Ma'am...” he whispered, his voice broken, a plea with no destination.

“Yes, servant?” I replied, without turning around. I continued the movement, this time pressing back a little more firmly. I crushed his hard cock against me, using the full weight of my hips. I felt it give way a little, molding itself against the cleft between my buttocks, even with the layers of fabric in between. You're liking this, aren't you? Tight little thing. Hidden away."

He didn't answer. Just a wet pant near my ear. His hot breath reached my neck. His hands, which had been hanging limply at his sides, closed into weak fists.

I changed the angle. I leaned forward slightly, resting my hands on the wall in front of me. This position arched my back and pushed my buttocks even further back toward him. Then, with a circular, suggestive movement, I rotated my hips. I rubbed the center of his erection with the fleshiest, softest part of my butt. Again and again. A slow, crushing massage through his clothes.

“Leo,” I said, in a conversational tone, as if we were discussing the weather. “Tell me. What do you like most about me? Of everything you've seen today.”

He hesitated. He swallowed. “Your... your buttocks, Mrs. Valerie.”

A deep, satisfied warmth spread through my belly. Of course. “Really?” I pressed, rotating again. “And what do you like about them? Describe it. In your own words.”

“They're... big,” he said. “Round. They look... impressive in those jeans.”

“Impressive,” I repeated, savoring the word. “That's a good adjective. And tell me, shy boy. What do you want to do with these impressive buttocks?”

The silence was thick with something embarrassing and exciting at the same time. I felt his cock throbbing against me, a quick, hard pulse.

“Everything,” he finally managed to say in a whisper. “Touch them... squeeze them...”

“And?” I insisted, stopping the movement, maintaining the static pressure. I had him pinned, literally. “Don't hold back. We crossed that line a while ago. What else?”

He took a deep breath, as if diving underwater. “I'd like to... put my face between them. And...”

“And?”

“And put... my dick there,” he blurted out, and the confession seemed to empty him of air. “In between. In her... ass.”

Aha. There it was. The rawness, dragged out of his shyness. I loved it.

I turned around slowly, in the tiny space. Now we were face to face, our bodies pressed together. My bare stomach brushed against his sweatshirt. My breasts, half exposed by my unbuttoned crop top, were inches from his chest. His hard cock, clearly visible, stood between our lower abdomens.

I looked him straight in the eyes, green and filled with excited panic. My smile was small, intimate, knowing.

“Do you want to stick your cock in my ass, Leo?” I asked, clearly, without embellishment. “In this big lady ass?”

He nodded, a convulsive shake of his head. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Mistress Valerie.”

“Very good,” I said, reaching out to caress his cheek. It was burning. “That's a very specific desire. And very... dirty. I like it.” I withdrew my hand. My tone changed, becoming practical, and I said suddenly, “But not like this and not here.”

His expression filled with confusion and instant, almost painful disappointment.

“It's uncomfortable here, it's dirty, and we don't have any lube,” I explained, like a teacher. “To do that right, so that I enjoy it and you don't hurt me... we need a bottle of lube. And a more comfortable place. Private.”

He kept looking at me, processing. Hope lit up in his eyes again.

“So... are we going to...?”

“Are we going to buy lubricant and find a better place for you to give me what you want so badly?” I finished the question for him. "Yes, Leo. That's exactly what we're going to do. Is that okay with you?"

“Yes,” he said quickly, fervently. “Everything. Yes.”

“Perfect,” I nodded. “Then let's get ready. I... I'm already presentable,” I said, gesturing vaguely toward my unbuttoned crop top. I didn't button it up. I left it open, showing my bra. Let him die a little more of desire. I adjusted my jeans, a slap on each buttock that made a fleshy sound and caused him to blink rapidly. “You... try to hide that,” I said, pointing with my eyes to his crotch. “We don't want any scandals before it's time.”

We got ready in silence. With confident movements, I buttoned up my crop top, adjusting each button with delicate precision, hiding my bra but without losing an ounce of the sensuality that emanated from my figure. He clumsily tried to tuck his erection into his pants without much success, his trembling hands struggling to maintain composure. Finally, I opened the door, letting the cool outside air mix with the palpable tension that remained in that small space.

The daylight was a shock. The sounds of the expo—the music, the laughter, the announcements—came back all at once. I went out first, stretching like a cat, getting used to the idea of normality. Leo came out behind me, hunched over, his face red.

Right in front of the door, a small line had formed. And at the front, a girl dressed in an impeccable Anya Forger cosplay from Spy x Family. She looked at me with huge eyes, then looked at Leo coming out behind me from the single-person bathroom. Her eyes widened even more as she processed the image: a voluptuous adult woman coming out of a portable bathroom with a tall, visibly nervous young man.

The girl froze, her mouth half open.

I didn't flinch. I held her gaze and smiled at her. A broad, knowing smile. Then I put my index finger to my lips in the universal “shhh” gesture, but I did it theatrically, exaggeratedly, as if we were accomplices in a prank. I covered my mouth with my hand, feigning hilarious guilt, and my eyes sparkled with pure amusement.

Anya, bewildered, smiled hesitantly.

Without wasting a second, I grabbed Leo's hand. His fingers were cold and clammy. I intertwined them with mine, firmly.

“Let's go,” I said, quietly but clearly. “The convenience store is on the other side of the park. They sell everything there.”

And I pulled him away from the bathroom line, away from the girl with her look of amazement, back into the colorful and noisy stream of the convention. I walked quickly, determined, pulling him along. His hand in mine was a pact. A promise. A preview of everything that was to come.

 

“Mom, I'm a lesbian,” I told her.

 

“And what's that?” she replied.

 

My stepmother's response made me feel enormous affection for her. She is a country woman raised in the old-fashioned way with only one man in her life, an aggressive macho who died of cirrhosis when I was still young. Perhaps it was sad, but it was the best thing for us.

She continued to live a modest and quiet life on her pension, and I went to study in the capital. In the first summer, having already experienced the world outside the countryside, I returned to my stepmother's house to spend the summer and declare my sexuality to my beloved stepmother.

She is a beautiful mature 39-year-old woman, slim with huge breasts, milky skin, long black hair, and light gray eyes. She is very pretty, which caught the attention of the village rogue, who did not hesitate to mark her as his property and thus exclude her from society. because in the countryside, the guy was feared, so unfortunately, we have had to live a lonely and hard life.

I didn't inherit my mother's breasts, which is a relief, as she has always had back problems and fatigue due to their weight. I am also smaller than her, my body is just as slim, but without my mother's breast protrusions and with the same small, perky butt. In that respect, we are alike. Of course, it's not a big deal, but we both used to avert our gaze in public places. She dresses very plainly, she stands out because of her white skin. I also have pale skin, but my hair is short and I am 18 years old. I love my modern style, and well, my mother is stuck in a few decades ago. If it weren't for her breasts, she wouldn't attract anyone's attention.

So, I told her I was a lesbian, but she couldn't understand it. She told me that women couldn't have children with each other, as if it were some great revelations. I joked about it, but she really didn't understand, and that made me feel very fond of her. I kindly explained to her, trying to hold back my laughter because I was so nervous, that I knew those things and that having children wasn't something that mattered to me, but she still didn't understand me. She couldn't understand the difference between being a lesbian and having a friend, so, somewhat embarrassed, I had to give her more details.

I explained that other girls and I touched ourselves in certain places to feel good. She immediately asked me if we touched each other as if one were the man and the other the woman? because she never learned how to do it very well and make it good for both of us. She told me that my dad was quite violent with her, and that's why she didn't find sex very pleasant.

I understood that for my mother, sex was almost like torture. After talking to her, I realized that my mother had no idea what sexual pleasure was; she thought it was only for men.

When I talked to her about orgasms, she was very surprised and incredulous. She told me that women couldn't orgasm because we didn't have penises, and that's when I realized that my mother had never had an orgasm and had probably never masturbated. I asked her that directly, and she answered, clearing up my doubts.

She told me she thought orgasms were for man and not a women, that we girls just had to listen to men and please them. That made me very angry. It made me angry that my mother was so submissive. She was clearly the kind of woman I didn't want to be, and I could no longer tolerate her living in a bubble because she had had a bad marriage. I know it's not my place, as her daughter, to treat her this way because she's the one who raised me. But if I don't do something about it, my mother will surely grow old and die without ever having felt pleasure. That made me very sad, and then I had an idea.

“Mom, do you want me to teach you what I'm talking about...”

And without thinking twice, she innocently said “yes…”, that this whole conversation we had had intrigued her and made her excited to know what was going on with me and what had me so happy, and what this lesbianism was all about.

I told my mom that I couldn't teach her exactly that, that she shouldn't get confused, that first I wanted her to know what pleasure was, and if she had no one but her daughter to teach her, well, I would have to teach her. She is my mother, and I would rather teach her how to do that than know that she died without ever having experienced a simple orgasm.

That thought was slowly turning me on, it was obvious, the mental images, the subject we were talking about, it was obvious to me that my body would react with a little heat.

“I understand, daughter, you're going to teach me how to do what men do...” she said to me. “Well, Mom, it's not quite like that...” I said. So, without further ado, I began with the theory. She looked at me strangely, as if she didn't quite understand what I meant. I figured she needed a visual image of it, like a sex education book from school, so I went to my cell phone to find a porn video of someone masturbating that could be used to educate my mother sexually, but I had forgotten about the poor internet connection in the countryside, which made me regret not being able to show her how it's done with an example.

I was in the middle of doing that when she interrupted me and asked me if I knew how to do it, to please show her, that she had seen me naked, so it would be easier if I showed her what I was talking about. “Of course,” I said, but just as I finished answering her, I realized I was going too far. She had seen me naked, but it was quite another thing for her to see me masturbating to show her an orgasm.

So right there, just as I was about to regret it, my mother interrupted me with a strange but energetic enthusiasm and invited me to go to her room so we could be more comfortable, and so she could see better, see up close.

That made me blush with embarrassment, but with an angelic smile she told me not to worry, that she would be a good learner, and taking me by the hand she led me to her room, and I walked with her without knowing how to say no.

We went into her room and, leaving only the bedside lamps on, I sat on the bed in front of my mom. She complained, telling me she would prefer to have all the lights on so she could see better, while she kept telling me not to be shy with her, but in the end, she gave in when I told her that if I was going to teach her how to do it, it would be my way. And without losing her enthusiasm, she said, “Look how big my little girl is...” which gave me a strange feeling, since I always loved it when my mom treated me with affection. So, I told her I would do it slowly to get comfortable, she nodded and looked at me with great enthusiasm.

I took a deep breath and exhaled, relaxing in front of my mother's attentive gaze, who was only a meter away. The first thing I did was close my eyes and shyly bring my right hand to my right breast to squeeze it firmly. She responded with an “mmm...” to show that she was watching what I was doing, which made me feel a little vulnerable.

So, I decided to change my plan and opened my eyes and looked her straight in the face, staring directly into her eyes. She looked like a child discovering a treasure. She wasn't acting like the mature woman she was. She clearly lacked a lot of experience and didn't bother to hide it.

“Mom, I'm too embarrassed to do this in front of you. I think you should imitate me, that way I wouldn't be so embarrassed and you could learn what it feels like...” I said, regretting it again at the end of the sentence. But she responded quickly and enthusiastically, telling me that she would do the same as me, that she would play the big girl and imitate me as best she could.

My mother made me feel very affectionate. I always saw her as a strong woman, and she is, but when it comes to sex, she's like a little girl. She has a lot to learn, and I don't know why, but the fact that I, her only daughter, was teaching her how to masturbate, caused butterflies in my stomach that made my thong wet with my vaginal juices, juices that were caused by my mother's naive attitude.

I let those feelings wander through me; they served me well. If I had to masturbate in front of my mother, I would have to find some inspiration, and being with my mother was making me feel that itch that makes my hands go to my crotch.

“Mom, let's take our clothes off,” I said, so we'll be more comfortable. She said, “Of course, daughter, I imagined it, I'll follow you...”

I stayed in my underwear and she immediately said, “Can we do it like this, in our underwear? I thought we were going to get naked...” I said, “We can do it like this too, Mom, it's just that I'm a little embarrassed... and we can do it like this too...”

I think saying that was the worst thing I could have done. My mom, who is not at all sensual, took off her underwear too. She was very abrupt and encouraged me to follow her example, telling me not to be ashamed of my body. She wouldn't stop pestering me until I also got naked in front of her.

I was nervous, with my legs crossed to the side and my arms crossed over my breasts. I explained to her that she had to tone down her enthusiasm a little so I could guide her. I told her she needed to relax, otherwise I wouldn't be able to teach her, and she finally shut up with great effort.

It was obvious that she didn't like me telling her what to do, but she reluctantly obeyed me anyway, because that's how she is. She always tried to please everyone, not just me.

I don't know if she has always been very loving or if she had some kind of complex, but thanks to that, I didn't have to worry about many of the household chores that I had to face head-on when I moved to the city. It was a reality check, and it made me appreciate everything my mother had always done for me much more.

I'm the lesbian, but my mother is clearly much less feminine than I am. She was in bed, not caring about her position, not caring that her huge breasts were fully exposed, nor did she care that from my angle I could see her beautiful black pubic hair sprouting from her mons pubis.

And I don't know why, but I liked her enthusiastic and youthful attitude, the confidence we both had, and the love that radiated from her eyes made me feel safe, calm, and at home. “Honey, don't you grow hair?” was the first thing my mom said to me as soon as I opened my legs in front of her.

“No, Mom, I shave, and I shaved this morning,” I said. “I've never shaved...” she confessed, “But I don't see that your skin is rough like a man's beard, it even looks like you don't grow anything, you look like a baby,” she said. “Actually, I grow a little and it stays soft...” I was answering when she interrupted me again, “Can I touch you to see how your skin feels?” And I couldn't help but say, “Sure, Mom, touch me.”

She touched me, I felt her cold fingers touch my mons pubis and crawl a little further down to stop halfway to my pussy without first telling me how surprised she was by how soft my skin was in that area.

Feeling her hands on my skin, so close to my most intimate place, unsettled me so much that it caused my lower lips to open before her due to my muscle tension, revealing my entire intimacy to my mother without filter. That embarrassed me so much that I covered myself so she couldn't see me.

But before she could give me another lecture on trust, I took a breath and concentrated on imagining that she wasn't my mother, but a stranger, and that way I was able to relax. I had already masturbated in front of inexperienced or curious girls, even with heterosexual girls we had been touching each other and doing girly things. So, I got serious, looked at her, and said, “Follow me, open your legs like this and start touching yourself gently and slowly here. Gently caress this part, these are called labia majora...”

Shifting to a more academic communication style helped me relax and continue with the class while my student did exactly the same as me, as if searching for something unknown among the hairs of her pussy, she got tangled up and opened her lips, innocently showing me her pink interior.

She explored herself almost like a little girl, at times not looking at me and focusing strictly on herself, touching her pussy and her tits just as I was showing her, while I didn't miss the spectacle of watching her first attempt at masturbation.

At one point, I ran out of words, and now I was just touching myself in front of her while enjoying watching her begin to discover herself and search for what she liked to feel.

Her skin was starting to turn redder, her breathing was beginning to quicken, and that made me very hot. I was no longer teaching; now I was masturbating in front of the woman who had given me life, and I was enjoying it.

She looked at me immediately after her first involuntary moan, which caused a spasm that I felt throughout my body.

In a fit of embarrassment or guilt, she covered part of her body and got scared. “Relax, Mom, nothing bad is happening,” I said. “I just feel very strange,” she replied.

But I was already very turned on, and I knew she was too, so we couldn't stop there. We had to keep going.

“Relax, it's okay, that's how it feels...” I said, and it didn't take her long to sit up again and relax. She said, “Do you do this to other girls? Is that what lesbians do?”

I was surprised by her question. Despite experiencing new and intense things, she was still concerned about the things I had told her a while ago, things that are important to me, and I was glad she took them into account. She has always been the one who pays the most attention to me, the one who has loved and cared for me the most throughout my life, so I couldn't say no when she said...

“Daughter, could you touch me? You say you've done it with other girls, and even though you're my daughter, you have much more experience than I do in this, and I'd like to know what it feels like to have someone who knows how to do it do it to me, and besides, it's just a massage...” she said to me as I tried to understand that Mom was asking me to jerk her off. I think that's when the situation started to get out of hand.

I don't know if loneliness had broken down any barriers in my mom that other mothers would have about this kind of thing, but knowing that she had never enjoyed this in her life... and not just this, but many other things too... all because she fell in love with the biggest jerk in town... I think it's too much.

Actually, I was excited because I had the chance to make my mother feel good, possibly better than ever before. I was sure of that because I knew very well what I was going to do. I had already given many orgasms to girls and women in the city, and now I was going to make my mother feel good. Then, caring about nothing else but her, I slowly approached her warm, naked body, willing and open to me. 

She told me not to be embarrassed, but she still blushed when she welcomed me, when she felt my hands running over her legs, dangerously close to the forbidden zone... I wanted to kiss her lips... her mouth, basically because I had never touched a vagina before without first forming a bond with the girl. I think a kiss can tell you a lot about whether there's chemistry or not before you find out between the girl's legs... but I couldn't ask her for that. I was going to masturbate her, I just wanted to give her pleasure, but kissing her is something much more romantic and that confused me. More than being the orgasm doctor, I wanted to be her girl and for her to be my woman, and that made me feel... in love.

She lay down completely on the bed when she felt me underneath her, moving closer to the inside of her thighs. Being there, I could smell my mom, her exquisite scent of a mature woman, well-groomed and already a little wet... Yes, my mom didn't take long to get wet, and then you could say that part of the job was already done. Now all that was left was to score the goal.

With one hand on each thigh, I moved closer to her pussy, dragging my hands up her legs, gripping them firmly, and moving towards her center. When I reached my goal, she lifted her hips to exert force against my hands, which were gripping the sides of her fleshy, hairy labia.

I brought her labia majora together, completely closing that wet and hot pussy. It felt fantastic. I was fascinated by her smell, her burning heat made my blood boil, and seeing her squirm motivated me to keep touching her.

Then I opened her pussy completely with a firm movement that made her inner lips open completely, peeling back from bottom to top to reveal her beautiful entrance, which opened up pink before me, letting me see a little deeper inside her, a little of her wet, narrow, hot interior.

I continued with both hands on her naked body, and I brought my index fingers to catch her clitoris, which was already swollen, and once it was trapped between my fingers, I began to massage it, moving one finger up and the other down, and vice versa. This caused a subtle spasm in my mother when my fingers, in the middle of her clitoris, came together, squeezing her beautiful button, which twisted and tried to turn in the direction of my fingers and then twisted in the opposite direction again and again.

But her clitoris wasn't the only thing twisting and turning in search of pleasure for my dearest mature woman. She didn't stop pinching her nipples in a much rougher way than I treated her clitoris. In addition, every so often she would stretch both of them sideways with great force and then try to twist them again.

I could see how her dark nipples stretched almost more than an inch with each pinch my mom gave herself, and that turned me on. Seeing her roughness made me imagine what it would be like to do it with her in her most experienced version. I don't know, but it made me want to misbehave... so she would give me my just deserts...

Mom's pussy had me excited and a little confused. I was thrilled to be touching something so private, so special, and I was happy to see Mom enjoying pleasure without a care in the world. She deserves it, and besides, she trusts me completely and had no qualms about leaving her pussy in my hands, and I was taking responsibility for that. I knew from experience how to touch a woman, and I was glad that my mother could enjoy the skills that life had taught me.

Without letting go of her clitoris, which was trapped between my index fingers, I massaged her fleshy labia minora with my thumbs. They glistened with a slightly darker tone than the rest of her pink pussy. I loved it; it had me mesmerized. Her scent permeated my fingers as they slipped into the wet and slippery folds of her pussy. She was very hot, I could feel it on my fingers, or I could feel it directly from the contact with her open pussy, and that made my temperature rise too, which was making me sweat, just as my mother was doing amid her boisterous moans.

I loved it, plus her pussy is so big that I always found a new path to explore with my thumbs, or so I wanted to believe as I tried to figure it out over and over again. I wanted my mother to have a good handjob, I wanted her to enjoy every part of her body, and she did, she was enjoying herself without scruples and that had me in a very dangerous erotic spiral.

“Oooh... daughter, this is so good... What you're doing to me is delicious... I want you to do it to me all the time... Ooooh... Daughter... Yes... That's so good...” she said to me as she writhed under my caresses. She couldn't see me anymore, but I was almost as horny as she was, and seeing how she was behaving took away what little shame I had left.

Without her noticing, I brought the fingers of my right hand, soaked in her fluids, directly to my mouth while my left hand took care of massaging her crotch. Boom! It was an explosion inside me, her scent completely overwhelmed me, her slimy texture spread through my mouth, and her taste intoxicated me as if it were a powerful drug.

It reminded me of my childhood, it reminded me of when I slept with her, it reminded me of her hugs and kisses, it reminded me of the immense love I have always felt for her, and it reminded me of the whole life we have had together. But the big difference was that now, in addition to love, her scent also made me very hot.

I admit that at one point I thought those feelings might be a conflict for me, but they weren't. They integrated perfectly with the immense love I feel for her, which had now grown considerably. I could see her fragility, her femininity blossoming within her roughness. It was as if I could taste her innocence and enthusiasm. I had always considered her the most beautiful woman, and now I was seeing it again.

I swallowed my mother's vaginal juices and could smell her scent on my breath. The exquisite sweet smell of my mother's pussy came from inside me, and I was fascinated. I went back with both hands straight to her pussy, but this time I went further and, without asking her, I inserted my middle finger halfway. She moaned loudly and lifted her hips, seeking more from me. She wanted more and didn't make it difficult for me to notice. So, I inserted my whole finger into her salivated, hot pussy.

“My daughter, this can't be, I think something is going to happen to me, I feel very strange, but very good, please don't stop, daughter... Don't stop... aaaahhh...” She begged me for more. I already had two fingers inside her pussy and was fucking her at a good pace. With my other hand, I continued to massage her clitoris, and she continued to punish her nipples. But I also wanted more. I wanted to accompany my mother on her journey of pleasure, and when I noticed that she was approaching her climax, I decided to go for more.

I brought my face close to her pussy, and its intoxicating and dangerous smell made me lose control and attracted me. It seduced me and took control of me. With my tongue out, I went straight for her swollen clitoris. I didn't think about it, I swear, I just let myself go. I was so close, we were both so hot, and if she liked my hands on her, she would surely melt with my licks and sucks... and so it was.

I ate Mom's clitoris while I fucked her with three of my fingers inside her pussy, and with Mom's clitoris in my mouth, I began a game of sucking and licking that drove Mom crazy. She didn't correct me, she didn't reject me, she didn't make any comments. She let me do it to her, and I did what I knew how to do with all my heart.

She was now just moaning, no longer articulating words, now she was just enjoying herself, writhing and moaning with my special treatment, she let herself go. I took advantage of my free hand to touch my own crotch to get closer to the intense energy my mom had, because it occurred to me that if she came with my fingers and my mouth, I would also come with her. It was ideal, it would be mutual, shared, and beautiful...

What happened there was really wild. She held on tight to the bed while arching her back and moaning like crazy, then she brought her hands back to her tits to stimulate herself again. Apparently, she loved touching her big, beautiful tits and pinching her nipples rather roughly. That was something she seemed to enjoy a lot, and I would have loved to suck on those tits, but my mouth was busy devouring her pussy and swallowing the juices that my fingers were digging out of her pussy while I masturbated like crazy.

It was exquisite, a little rough but fantastic. She let me do everything to her, and I wanted to devote that day to giving her pussy a good treatment. I sucked and licked her juicy, hot flesh that opened like a flower between her legs, a beautiful pink pussy open with three of my fingers inside and a clitoris that looked like a fat, fleshy candy dancing elusively on my tongue.

“Daughter, I can't take it anymore! ... Daughter, I don't know what's happening to me! ... Daughter, I'm going to pee myself! ... Daughter, be careful ... aaaa ... No... Aaaa ... AAAAH!!!”

She came in my mouth. I knew it was coming and I wanted to keep my mouth glued to her crotch, while I coordinated my orgasm with some skill so that we could both enjoy the moment, connected and united as we had never been before. But she didn't just have one orgasm. A squirt flooded my mouth. I swallowed what I could until it overflowed, leaving me, my hair, and the underside of the bed completely wet. It was an incontinent shower of love and sex, warm and energetic, with strong muscle spasms from both of us that gradually calmed down as we rested in the position we were in.

“I'm so sorry, I couldn't hold back, but what have I done...” She wanted to apologize, but I laughed nervously, and she quickly joined in, and we both ended up in uncontrollable laughter, naked and smelly... but happy.

That day I came with my mom. It was the best masturbation of my life while I gave the best cunnilingus I could to the woman I have loved most in my life. And that made me very happy.

After laughing like crazy, we lay there exhausted for a few minutes, and after a while, I noticed that my mom was getting restless with me still between her legs.

“Come here, sweetie, and give me a hug,” she said, opening her arms and calling me over, not caring that I was all wet with her urine and vaginal fluids. I went over and hugged her in a tight embrace.

We stayed like that for a while, and then she said to me, “Daughter, you licked my vagina.” Without letting go of her, I didn't know how to respond, and she continued, "Well, you should know, my daughter, that it was the best thing anyone has ever done for me in my life. I've never felt so good before. I thought sex was painful, like it had been with your father, but you've taught me that it's not like that, that it's beautiful and very delicious. I loved it, daughter, and I'd like you to continue teaching me about lesbianism... well, and I'd also like to do it to you. If you make me feel so good, I'd like to make you feel the same. I could also lick your little vagina if you want..."

“Mommy, I love you so much...” I said and hugged her, leaving our bodies naked, dirty, and sticky with our fluids after the most beautiful and intense experience I've ever had with the woman I love most in the world, a busty, mature woman from the countryside, yes, the woman who raised me.