13 comments/ 133925 views/ 9 favorites Growing Into A Voyeur Ch. 01 By: hedonist_at_heart My twin sister Michelle and I always loved our parent's date night. For one, it meant that we got a babysitter. I know, a kid wanting a babysitter doesn't seem normal. Well you never met my babysitter. Her name was Julie, and she was, to say the least, every teenage boys dream. For that matter, I am sure she was included in the dreams of many a male that met her. My dad was no exception and would often receive a shot in the ribs from my mother for his drooling over this young goddess. She babysat my sister and me every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, after school. Then of course, every two weeks on date night. Date night was the best because my sister would usually go to sleep early, and it actually gave me a chance to hang out with Julie. Julie and I, as well as Julie and my sister, became very close over the years. She was a good friend and the person who I went to with any problem I was having: parents, school, girls, whatever the crisis was that week. We remained close even after she left for college, through email and text mostly. This story is not about Julie, she is simply a catalyst. Continuing with my parents date night, the second reason we loved it, was because the mood in the house always changed on that night. My parents didn't get to spend that much free time together, so when they did they would always make the most of it. Love was in the air on those nights and it was infectious. My father is a very successful sports writer/editor. He was a lacrosse star at the college where he and my mother met. He studied journalism, and as lacrosse is not a "career" sport, he decided to go into sports writing. When my mom got pregnant, he decided to take a job at a small (at that time unpublished) magazine as an editor. It was a huge pay-cut, and by huge, I mean he was making less than minimum wage when you consider the hours he was working. My mother was skeptical, for obvious reasons, being pregnant and just settling into a life with her new husband. The catch was, he owned 25% of the magazine. This of course was a huge gamble, one my mother stood behind, and ultimately paid off. When retelling this story to friends and family, they would often make the joke that if it weren't for the magazine taking off, they probably wouldn't still be together. This joke is multilayered. For one, my mother's expression (tone, body language, ect.) is that of humor. She would have never left my father, for any reason, I assume. My father on the other hand retells the story with a more regretful undertone. The smile is there, but you can see something else in his eyes. He was a good dad and provided more than enough comforts for myself, my mom and my younger sister (younger by 5 minutes). Michelle was a handful from the beginning. She had the beauty of my mother and the stubbornness of my father. Even from a very young age, she was hard to control. When she had her mind set on something that was it. At the same time, all she had to do was look at you with those big green eyes, and it was impossible to stay mad at her. A dangerous combination. Her body was tight, built like a gymnast, which she was until her height and bust (inherited from my mom) made it difficult to pursue the sport in any serious context. In many ways she was a miniature version of my mom. She stood 5' 5", had perky breasts that were nearly the size of my mother's (maybe a medium-large C cup). But they stood out. Almost like gravity didn't exist within the confines her gorgeous young body. Her ass was tight and small. Similar to my mother's but on a smaller frame that fit her perfectly. Her smooth, soft, and tan skin had a glow that gave men, of any age, butterflies. She didn't have an ounce of fat on her and her stomach was beautifully flat with just the slightest hint of tone. This takes me back to my main focus, my mother, Joann (or jo, as my dad called her). She's the most difficult person to really get a grasp on. Like I mentioned before, she was never an overly sexual person. This doesn't mean that she wasn't sexy. When looking at pictures of her from high school and college, I understand why my father, who had his choice of women in college, picked my mom. She was a classic beauty-queen-looking hottie. Her hair was blonde, really blonde, perfectly straight and came to the middle of her back (a hairstyle she kept well after college). Her body was usually modestly covered, although I would come across the occasional photo of her in a bathing suit. These were still conservative, as was my mother's M.O. Regardless, those small moments in time, gave a small window into the treasures that my mother secretly held. She had insanely long legs. She stands 5' 8", and that's mostly leg. Her ass was tone and tight, not as bubbly as my goddess Julie, but sexy in an almost girlish way. This was in contrast to her incredible breasts, the feature that first sparked my interest in my wonderful mom. It didn't take much snooping around to realize that her size, at age 43, was a lovely 34 D. Her face was classic, proportional and suited her style very well. She looks like she could have walked out of a WASPY home & garden magazine. We had a good sized home gym in our basement, where she spent her free time while we were at school. As a result her figure was that of someone 10-20 years younger. She had the face of a mother with a model's body. Her normal attire would best be classified functional (e.g. polo shirt, sweater, and khakis). This doesn't mean she wasn't attractive, just a MILF, at least not in the way the word is usually used. Every once and awhile you would get a hint of what she was hiding. When wearing jeans and doing housework, you could get a glimpse of her bending over and the fabric would stretch across her tight ass. Or when she would wear a modest knee-length skirt, and reaching up for something in the cabinet, you could see her legs stretched and the tone was still there. Or my favorite, in the morning, she would sometimes wear one of my dad's old lacrosse jerseys and a pair of pajama pants. The pants I could have done without, but when she would serve us breakfast, leaning over, you could get a glimpse of her beautiful cleavage. These were fleeting glimpses, and not enough to satisfy the hunger and curiosity of a young man. But this leads me to my final reason for loving date night. Seeing Julie was always a pleasure. Seeing my parents loving and kissing each other was wonderful. But by far, the most captivating aspect of date night was my mother. It gave me a chance to see her out of context. She wasn't a housewife or a mother on those nights. She was a woman. A sexy and enticing woman. She was still conservative, but it was a sexy conservative. The date night outfits, the secret peaks from across the room, and my personal fantasies are really just a precursor to this story. I never got the inclination that my mom shared the same desire for me as I did for her. For that reason and other obvious reasons, I never took things any further than what was previously mentioned. Occasionally I would sneak a peek at her underwear drawer or try and get a glimpse of her changing, but that was it. My priorites and outlook on life started to change as I get older and started developing into a "man." Just like Michelle was the spitting image of my mom, I was a younger version of my dad. Also, just as my sister's personality resembled my father's, I was a product of my mom. This created an odd dynamic as we often paired together for certain activities. Michelle and my dad were more inclined to go camping in the wilderness, while my mother and I would prefer more cultural activities: trying new restaurants, museums, or just reading a book. That doesn't mean my father was at all absent in my life by any means. In fact, he is the main reason that I started to play lacrosse. I could really care less about sports, but it was important to him, so I played. And of course, a young boy always wants to impress his father. Ironically, his pushing me to play the sport is really where my story starts to take formation. I was 18 and in my senior year of High School. Trying out for lacrosse, I found I was overwhelmed by how good all the other players were. I had watched the sport often with my dad. I could "talk the talk" but I had a hard time "walking the walk." However, the coach was a friend of my dad's from high school, and he agreed to take me on the team under a few conditions: I had to get bigger, stronger, and learn to throw the ball. Because my height was several inches over 6 feet, I was a natural defenseman. My problem was that I had almost no muscle to speak of. I was the "lanky kid" and it sucked for more reasons than just lacrosse try-outs. Most girls could not see past my lanky exterior and somewhat nerdy-conservative personality. The ones that did were either too unfortunate to date, or my lack of self confidence prevented any meaningful interaction. My experience was limited to a singular event, which involved a wedding, a lot of booze, and one of my mom's married friends (who I'm pretty sure wasn't even conscious of who she was making out with). Bottom line, something needed to change. I wanted to be the son my father would be proud of, and more importantly, someone that girls wanted to fuck. I decided that the best way for me to go about this was to change my image. I didn't want to be the nerdy lanky guy anymore. I wanted to be like my dad, the way he was at my age, big and strong and someone that women lusted over. I was way too nervous to go to the gym at school. People would probably just laugh at me, and even if they didn't, I wouldn't know what to do. Where the hell do I start? That is when I decided to ask Julie for help. She spent more time in the gym than anyone I know (with the possible exception of my mom). When I got home I went to the kitchen, grabbed a water from the fridge and the phone, then sat down in a stool at the island in the middle, my back facing the door, and started to call Julie. I began to explain my problem , hoping for any help at all. "EWWW, I hate big muscled guys, its so disgusting" she said, "I think your great the way you are, and in the long run it will pay off, trust me. As soon as you grow up, and those little bitches get some sense, they will realize what they are missing. Don't lose what you have." "Julie, I'm not talking terminator muscles, I just want a goddamn date," I responded. "I know where your coming from, and trust me, I didn't always have the foresight I have now, I just don't want you to lose who you are and become some asshole jock," she replied. "That doesn't help. I'm sure when I grow up I will have no problem with dating. But for now, I need SOMETHING. I think my damn hand will fall off if I have to mastu..." I caught myself before finishing what I was about to say. "Excuse me?" Julie said in a joking tone, "what was that about your hand falling off.... From what?" "Nothing, just... you know... I'm not talking to you about this." I said, trying to regain some sort of dignity. "Masturbate? No shit you masturbate. I used to babysit you remember? You think I'm stupid? Those hour long showers you would take... you're not that clean," she said with a giggle, "and you weren't exactly discreet with those 'slop, slop, slop' sound I would hear from outside your bathroom." "JULIE! I can't believe you. I'm so embarrassed. You must think I'm a disgusting pervert." At this point, I was ready to just crawl into a hole and die. At the same time, the thought of my babysitter listening to me jerk off, gave my stomach a familiar twinge. "Jesus, chill out. Everyone does it. And I didn't sit outside your door and listen because it was gross." She said, as her tone changed slightly from playful to sexy. "Why the hell did you listen then? So you could embarrass me at some later point in my life, when I was already feeling like a huge looser?" I said, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. "First of all you are NOT a loser. I think you're very good looking and a very cool guy. That is why I would listen outside your door." As she said this my cock gave an involuntary twitch and I could feel the blood flowing down to my abdomen. "Second, it's very normal to masturbate, we ALL do it." "Ha, are you saying that YOU, Julie, the babysitter who probably caused a thousand erections has to resort to masturbation?" As I said this I immediately regretted the part about erections, a little out of character for me, but my stiffing cock was starting to have an effect on my brain I guess. "Whoa there, who's the inappropriate one now? But now that we are being honest, yes, I do masturbate. What do you think you I did when you and your sister would go to bed? Read a book?" "Seriously?" was all I could manage to get out at that point. I could feel my cock stretched out along my leg and the head was just poking out of my lacrosse shorts. I managed to finally spit out "why were you so horny?" "Good question. For one, I am just a very horny person, naturally, I can't help it. Two, it would always turn me on to hear you in the shower. To be honest, I always had a bit of a crush on you, but could never do anything about it. I had plans, and jail was not one of them, haha." My cock started to ache, and almost involuntarily, I pulled my shorts down enough to release some of the pressure. At this point, I could not take the pressure from my hard-as-steel cock anymore. I quickly glanced around the room to find some oil or lotion; anything that would help my tame the beast in front of me. I grabbed a bottle of sun tan lotion that was on the counter and leaned back slightly in the stool to lower my shorts around my ankles, ignoring the voice in the back of head telling me that my mother and younger sister might be home any minute. Surprisingly, this only added to my current predicament. I took it in my hand and attempted to continue this very odd and incredibly stimulating conversation, while at the same time rubbing some lotion on my hand and cock. "I don't know what to say..." I said, hoping that she would drive the conversation. I let out and involuntary moan as the lotion first dripped onto my cock. It was cold on my hard cock and felt like a cool breath as I slid it up and down over my swollen tip. "Seems like you want to say a lot... What was that? Are you...," she inquired playfully. "What are you talking about" I said, unable to stop, but trying to be conscious not to make any more groans. "It sounded like you were moaning or something, kind of like what I used to hear coming from your shower..." she said, playfully but with a curious tinge. "Well...ummm... you said everybody does it, and considering our current conversation, you should understand." At this point I realized two things: 1. I was getting much bolder and confident with the conversation and 2. She could hear what I was saying in the shower. I wondered how close she had really been, but more importantly, what she had actually heard. "I don't care, I would just like to know if I am making you hard. Are you playing with it? I can hear the lotion... is it hard? Mmm... I've always wondered what it was like," as soon as those words hit my brain, I could feel my balls start to tighten and the cum build up. "Oh shit... AHHHH... yes. Fuck." I shot one of the biggest loads I have ever experienced. It landed on my hand, legs, and even shot as high as the kitchen counter. As soon as my erection died, so did my confidence. All of a sudden I started to second guess the context of the conversation. I started to feel like a pervert and freak. "What's wrong? What just happened? Did you do something naughty? Where are you right now?" as she said this, and as I was searching for an excuse to get off the phone, I heard the front door close. "I gotta go, I think my mom and Michelle are home", I said, hanging up, without waiting for a response. The kitchen was close to the front door, and I had maybe 15-20 seconds to "clean up." I grabbed a paper towel and wiped off my hands and shorts and pulled them up quickly. In my rush to get to my room, I had forgotten about the sizeable glob of cum I had left on the kitchen island. Before I had time to even consider what to do about it, I heard my mother's voice. "Honey? We're home. What are you doing? Will you help me carry in the rest of these groceries?" I quickly checked myself in the mirror, attempted to straighten myself out and headed for the kitchen to meet my mom. All the time, praying that she didn't see my little mess on the kitchen counter. Hopefully, if she did, she would, she wouldn't recognize it as my cum. "Sorry mom, I was just... ahhh... cleaning my room up." I said, attempting to regain some of my consciousness. "Oh. Good boy. I could have sworn I saw you sitting in the kitchen when I was walking up the driveway. Why are your all flushed honey?" She asked. I felt like an idiot. I had a million questions running through my mind. Why wouldn't I close the curtains? Or better yet, NOT jerk off in the kitchen? How much did my mom see? What did my SISTER see? "Uhh... I dunno mom. It must be from all the cleaning, I guess." This was obviously a lie, but she didn't press the issue. I felt like she knew I was lying, and either didn't really care, or worse, she saw what I was doing and just didn't want to bring it up. "Well go get the rest of the groceries for me and start putting these ones away. I bought you one of those éclairs that you like. You can have it after dinner or as a snack before you do your homework." She said, as she started to put the groceries away. It wasn't until I was halfway down the driveway that I realized I forgot to clean up my damn cum from the kitchen island. It was too late to turn back now, if she hadn't seen it yet, she would have definitely been curious about what I had to run back into the house to clean up. I decided it was best to just get the groceries as quickly as I could and try to keep my head about myself this time. When I walked through the door, I saw my sister typing on her phone. When she looked up at me she had her devious wide-brimmed shit-starter smile on. She walked right past me, never breaking eye contact, and then stepped into the kitchen in front of me. I couldn't help but take in the beauty that was crossing in front of me. It was a warm day and almost like a uniform, Michelle was wearing the tiniest of shorts and a very tight fitting polo shirt that gave off just the slightest hint of belly button. On this day, the shorts where white cotton, and seemed to be extra short. They weren't obscenely tight, but tight enough that you could see her little ass cheeks bounce one at a time as she walked from the hallway to the kitchen. She turned around and looked at me, stretching her arms out and showing off her tight little smooth belly, that she knew men desired. "God", I thought to myself, "If I could have just an ounce of her confidence... she must know what she's doing right now." "Whatcha doin bro? Lookin a little red aren't we? You must have been working out... HA, yeah right." She said this with a hint of sarcasm and humor. I wondered to myself if she actually knew something or if she was just trying to get me worked up. "Haaaa. How about helping with the groceries instead of texting your friends all day? We know that's what you do at school all day anyway." I shot back, not too hard through, because if she DID know something, I didn't want her blurting it out to get me back. "Nahhh, I think I'll sit down and relax. I'm so very tired from shopping," she said this in her best cute little girl voice, which she has mastered over the years. I have to admit, it was pretty cute. "Plus, Julie is helping me with my homework." Growing Into A Voyeur Ch. 01 "Yeah right, you're probably just gossiping about some guy you have a crush on." I said, dropping the groceries on the counter closet to the fridge, and made my way over to the island where my gooey mess still sat. "Actually, your kind of right, haha," she said this under her breath, as she brushed past me, loud enough for me to hear, but not enough for my mother to take notice. The only thing that caught me a little off guard was that she seemed to press her chest into me as I passed. She had plenty of room to get by, and it seemed a little more than accidental. The feeling of those perky beautiful breasts, grazing me, even for just that brief moment, made my cock start to stir again. I tried not to read into her comment or the graze. "She's just being a little brat and I'm just fucking horny" I thought to myself. My main concern was where she was headed and prayed it was any place but the island. Of course, as my luck would have it, she plopped herself down right in the same spot where I had been jerking off no less than 5 minutes before. She immediately saw the white puddle sitting right in front of her. She didn't say anything but just turned to me and smiled, wider than even before, and gave me a quick wink. "What the hell was she gonna do?" I wondered to myself. I just stood there frozen wondering what I could do. To make things worse, a sizeable lump in the front of my shorts began to form, at the site of my beautiful little sister, sitting with her nose almost literally in my cum. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. As I stood there, still unsure what to do, she slowly started to lean forward in the stool and towards the puddle in front of her. As she did this, her already short shorts stretched over her beautiful little ass. This also had the effect of displaying her long tan legs, and just a hint of her back as her shirt lifted along with her body. She was a vision, and my cock agreed. I couldn't decide what to do first, try and fix this, or go to my room and release my cock from what now felt like a prisoner in my once loose-fitting lacrosse shorts. I decided that the damage was done and I should just see what plays out. It seemed to me like she was moving in slow motion, although the whole thing took maybe 10 seconds. She stuck her finger right into the pile of my cum, studying it on her finger for a moment, like she still wasn't 100% sure what it was. She then turned her face towards me, leaving her ass on display. With one slow, exaggerated lick, she cleaned her finger of my juices. With eyes closed she let a slight "mmm" escape her mouth. If it wasn't for what happened immediately after, I probably would have cum in my pants right then and there. "MOOOM," that name made me snap back to reality. "Some of the cream from that éclair got on the counter. What flavor is this? Vanilla? It tastes different...," has her voice trailed off, as she looked back at me, with that devious little smile of her. Her lips still glistening from the "vanilla cream." "That's weird, I don't know how it would have gotten all the way over there, just clean it up honey," my mom said, not giving it a second thought, probably assuming that Michelle was just doing her little helpless act. I finally let my breath out as I watched my sister jump from the stool, in what I thought was going to be an attempt to get a tissue or rag. Before I could fully take in what she was doing, she was standing in front of my mom with her finger stretched out towards my mother's mouth. "Mom. Taste it. It tastes funny to me. Do you think it's bad?" At this point she didn't even dare look back at me. "Just like your father. Always curios about EVERYTHING. You remember what they said about that cat don't you?" My mother said this with a grin and a giggle. This was her sense of humor. "My hands are dirty. Just clean it up please." Before my mother even had a chance to retreat, my sister slipped her little finger into my mother's mouth, with the remnants of my puddle hanging from the tip. "You little brat!" my mom said this mostly jokingly. She and Michelle often fooled around like this. She just slapped Michelle on the butt and told her to go wash up and start doing some homework. Over the next few moments, possibly the longest few moments of my life, my mother's face went through several different stages. At first, it was curiosity, as she made a smacking sound with her lips and trying to figure out what that taste was. "Tastes a little like sunscreen..." as she was saying this immediately looked over at the misplaced bottle, then at me. She continued with the groceries as I let out a sigh of relief. My relief was short lived as a second, more confused look, came over her face. The look in her eyes suggested she knew that taste but couldn't imagine how it would have ended up in an éclair. From there came subtle recognition as she glanced over at me with a shocked look. Shocked but not angry. It seemed as if she was almost more embarrassed than I. Finally, her face began to redden and a slight grin formed on her mouth, as she tried to regain some composure. "Well... I'm just... gonna put away... the rest of the groceries. Go see if your sister needs any help with her homework and then get started on your own." For a brief moment, I thought I had seen her give me a once over. At first it seemed like just a simple motherly looking-over. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like something more, something closer to when I would involuntarily check out a girl in some sexy outfit or something. Almost primal. What the hell was I thinking? I doubt that is what she was doing. She was probably looking at me with disgust. Her pervert son who jerks off all over the house and waits for his mom and sister to clean it up. She had to know. But what would she say? What could she say? Should I say something first? Fat chance of that happening... that was enough awkwardness for me for one day. Needless to say, I had lost my erection, that moments ago seemed like a solid piece of wood jutting from my abdomen. My mind was in a fog as I walked up the stairs towards my bedroom. Although I was about 99% sure that my little sister knew what she had been doing, actually acknowledging the fact, was a barrier I was not ready to cross. I skipped over my sister's bedroom, "fuck her and her homework," I thought." After what she just pulled, I hope she flunks out." I decided I just needed a hot shower, and some time alone to figure what the hell to do. As soon as my door was closed, I stripped down to nothing, grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my waist, and headed to the bathroom that is in-between mine and my sister's bedrooms. There was never any worry about us walking in on each other, as we had locks on both of the inner doors. Without even thinking to knock, I walked into the bathroom. Michelle was at the mirror, with a towel wrapped around herself. "What the hell! Why didn't you lock the door?" I said, out of anger because I was still upset with what she had pulled in the kitchen, but still could not help taking in the sight before me. Like I mentioned, she is really too cute to stay mad at for too long. "Cause I was all done. Relax." She said, while staring straight ahead, only giving me a quick glance in the mirror. "Well hurry up, I wanna take a shower and then I have a bunch of work to do." This was a lie, I really just wanted to have a nice long shower and maybe, and after seeing her beautiful young body in that towel, a nice jerk too. "I just need to get my contact solution from the medicine cabinet, then I will leave you to your fun," she said that last part with a little smile and a glance towards me. She then opened the cabinet and attempted to reach the top shelf, where I had placed the solution the night before. While doing this her towel started to lift and I could see just the bottoms of her tan, smooth, and tone ass cheeks. "Why do you always put it so far up? You know I can't reach it! Will you help me pleeeease?" she started in again with her little girl voice, irresistible to all men, including myself. "Fine. Watch out. I'll grab it." My cock had started to harden, but it wasn't noticeable yet, and I hoped that she would be out of the bathroom before it did, I didn't wait for her to move out of the way. I went up right behind her and reached over her head to reach the solution. As I did this, my semi-hard cock pressed up against her ass. If I wasn't mistaken, she pressed back lightly, enough for her to feel my cock go from slightly-hard to almost full power. It was just enough to make me hard, but not enough for me to know for sure it was on purpose. After all, I was the one who came up behind her; it was probably just a fluke. On the other hand, considering today's events, maybe it wasn't. Out of pure (sexual) frustration, grabbed her by the hips and moved her aside, as to not cause any more suspicious "growths." "God, you can be such a dick sometimes. If you hadn't have put the shit so high, this wouldn't be a problem," she said, looking angry and bordering on teary. "And you didn't have to shove me! I was just trying to have a little fun." As she said this, her eyes started to swell up. This was resulting from of a combination of me yelling at her, pushing her aside, and probably embarrassment by my (seemingly) lack of interest in her. The truth was, I had a raging hard on, mostly caused by her, that I desperately needed to take care of. "Just cut it out! You've been being a little brat since you got home. Just wait till after my shower and you get the solution then... I'll leave it out for you, okay?" I said in my calmest voice possible. However, it was too late for that, her eyes started to fill with tears. If there was one thing that was more disarming than her trying to be cute, was her being sad. She had the kind of face that was almost painful to see sad. The minute she would tear up, you would be filled with the strongest desire to help her, in any way you could. I am pretty sure, at this point in her life, she had learned how to manipulate this quality to her benefit. Regardless, it was too much for me to deal with at the moment and I went over to hug her, not fully realizing the extent of my very stiff and full erection. I walked over to wear she was leaning on the door jam, still facing away from me. I grabbed her by the shoulders, much softer this time, and spun her around to face me. She looked up at me with those gigantic beautiful green eyes, with a tear hanging from either side, and I pulled her into me. Because of our height difference she only came to my chest. She placed her head on my bare chest and I could feel her hot breath streaming over me, her hair trailing down, just barely falling to where the bottom of my cock began. I could feel her nipples harden on my stomach, and at that instance my cock became harder and more rigid than I ever imagined humanly possible. It almost felt numb it was so hard. It made me lightheaded just to think about all the blood my little sister was causing to rush into my thick cock. "MMM, I knew that would work. It feels HUGE." She said this in a voice that, if I had not been looking for it, I would have never noticed. "You little shit...", I said, pushing her face back slightly and seeing that her eyes were dry from tears just as quickly as they had been filled. "You are a brat," my tone was joking now. How could I stay mad at her? "Go do your homework, I need to take a shower." I kissed her on the head and patted her but into the other room. The pat on her ass seemed less playful, than it had every other time until today. The barrier of complete verbal recognition was still too much for me to cross. There was still the chance that this was all just a mistake or a figment of my imagination. But the truth of the matter was, my little sister wanted to feel my cock. She went so far as to trick me just to rub against it. But what does it mean? How much of the kitchen did she see? What about the cream she eagerly devoured? And then fed to my MOTHER? "Oh, shit, my mom", I thought to myself as I replayed the days events. What the hell am I going to do about that? These questions, especially the ones about my mom, were burning in my mind. However, the only part that stood out, or rather the only part I wanted to remember in my current state, was that of the quick fleeting (possibly meaningless) look that my mother gave me in the kitchen. I decided to just focus on that for now. I stripped off my towel and didn't bother to lock the door. I figured if Michelle is so curious, I am not going to fight it too much, but still kept the repercussions close in mind. "Honey? How is your homework coming? Did you get a chance to help your sister? " At this point I realized that my mom was coming up the stairs. I figured she must have finished with everything and is making dinner. I hadn't realized until now, how long that little exchange had taken. She always comes and checks on us and our homework, homework was to be completed before doing ANYTHING, with the exceptional shower or snack or chore. But luckily, aside from schoolwork, she was pretty lax. As long as I got it all done, I could do pretty much whatever I wanted, which was never an issue since I didn't have much of a life anyways. As much as I wanted to answer my mom, the last thing I wanted to do was to sit through another 10 minute exchange while my cock feels like an active volcano. I quickly turned on the shower and ignored my mom's call to me. I figured she would hear the shower, or me not answer my door, and go back downstairs. This was the only reasonable scenario I could conceive at the time. Like a junkie, I grabbed the closest lubricant substitute that I could find and squirted one long stream onto my cock and my left hand. I cupped my hand and started to shove my cock into it, imagining it was the sweet little mouth on his sister, looking up at him with those green eyes. My fingers could only reach about 2/3 the way around my cock. I started to wonder how much of it she could fit around her tiny soft hand and if it would even fit in her mouth? As I imagined the wonderful answers to those posed questions, I tightened the grip around my cock and slowed my pace, imagining its sliding down her hot little throat. Just as my balls start to get that familiar tingle, I felt someone was watching me. I didn't stop stroking my cock. At this point it wasn't really a choice. I needed to cum and if anyone was watching, that is their problem, I was on a mission here. That didn't stop me, however, from taking a quick note of the only two entrances to the bathroom: my room and my sister's room and my sister's door was unopened. My door, however, was slightly ajar. There were only two options: I had left the door open, or my mother had opened it. For the time being I decided to focus on the latter option. For the remaining moments of staying power I had left, I took on the role of performer. I stood straight up and turned so that I was facing sideways. I took my cock and slowly started to stroke it, allowing whoever is watching, if anyone was, to get the perfect outline of my tall frame against my fully engorged cock. To my surprise, this relatively uncomfortable position for masturbating, mixed with my new found voyeuristic confidence, gave me some extra time without losing any of my fullness. As I imagined that it was my mother on the other side of the door, my cock took a life of its own. I could feel every inch of it, every pulsing vein. I worked my fist slowly over the head at first. Then when I thought I might pass out from loss of blood to my head, I increased my pace. When I felt that my cock was about to burst, I could feel the pit of my stomach start to go numb, I grabbed the side of the shower rail for support, thrust my hips forward, and hit the shower curtain with a loud "thump." I hunched over, like a warrior after battle, sword in hand. I watched as my thick load slowly crept down the shower curtain. When I stepped out of the shower I felt lighter, my head was clear, at least for the time being. After cumming I always had, what I joking called, my "five minutes of clear thinking." Well I was 1 minute in and I decided I would give clear warning to anyone, who may be there, that I was done and coming out, as to avoid any further complications. This day was already enough to keep my mind busy for the next few lifetimes. I stepped loudly out, making whatever "warning" sounds I could. Then I wrapped my towel around me, and walked over to the door and then slowly turned on the light, which I hadn't remembered turning off. When I looked in, I saw that my door to the hallway was open. I know for sure, that door was closed. Which meant my mom did come in here. But that didn't answer whether or not she opened the bathroom door. I usually close the hallway door, but today, of all days, I could easily imagine myself forgetting such a thing. These questions played out in my mind: Was I all of a sudden irresistible to the women of my family? Was this something that always existed and just needed a spark (me jerking off in the kitchen)? Did she even see that in the kitchen? " Even if she didn't come in my room for that reason, and the door was left open by me, there's an almost 100% chance that she at least heard me in the shower. "I'm pretty sure my sister saw something of my little kitchen adventure. But it still wasn't clear exactly what it was. This could just be my imagination taking control over my rational. My mom would be the tougher one to figure out, I could never, even with my best imagination cap on, could never have imagined my mother actually crossing that line. The fantasy was lovely, but I always got a little sad afterwards, when I realized it would never really happen. My sister on the other hand, now there is a possibility. With my mom, I will keep an eye open for any signs. Chances are I will never have the balls to do anything about it. Even misinterpreted experiences, if they feel real, are a nice treat, I rationalized. Therefore, mom was my "long-shot" and that probably wouldn't happen. But I would work my ass off to see if it could. She was the one I wanted more than any other woman in the world. More than the babysitter, my sister, or any other woman that has ever circulated through my banking system. Those sexy snapshots were few and far between, which only fed my desire for her. It's like waiting for the chorus in the song. You never like the song as much, but without it, the chorus would never be as powerful. Just as the lyrics add depth and meaning to the chorus, her housewife and motherly characteristics, added a deeper sensuality to those too-infrequent moments of voyeuristic euphoria. I started to come back to reality a little bit. I began second guessing the events of the day: with my mom, Julie, and Michelle. "Horny teenage daydreams," I thought to myself. To be honest though, at the moment, it was difficult to recognize what was real from what was being imagined. In an attempt to regain some control over myself, I decided that I needed to stick to the plan. My main focus was to become more like my father, in both looks and confidence. In the back of my mind I was still thinking, "if mom is checking me out now, maybe this will just increase my chances." Hell, it couldn't hurt, and even if I don't get a chance with my dream woman, I can at least be getting some girls my own age. I decided that since Julie was of little help with the gym, and that was another thing I was trying to reserve for another time to contemplate, I would go to the next best person: my mom. Mom worked out as much, if not more than Julie. And I would be the first one to admit it, she has a fantastic body. However, if I am going to do this, I can't let my little head take the reins from my big head. In order to accomplish this seemingly impossible task, I made a deal with myself to keep a level head and to not take anything out of context. I kept telling myself "assume the most un-sexual of possibilities first and don't ever, no matter how strongly I feel, make a first move." Growing Into A Voyeur Ch. 01 I went to sleep that night with a melting pot of emotions. First, and foremost, I was anxious. I had no idea what was going to happen and, because of my self-imposed rules, I had little control. I was scared, because I didn't know how my mom would act around me now. Did I scare her off just when I really needed her the most? At the same time I felt excited, mostly by my strong declaration to change for the better. But also, of course, was that little image of my mother stuck in the back of my brain. Regardless of whose eyes I am looking through, our relationship had changed. She may not know the whole story, but at the very least, she has tasted my cum. I may have misinterpreted her reaction in the kitchen, but the rational part of my brain suggests that at least KNOWS . She knows that I masturbate. She knows I did it at her kitchen island, and for whatever reason it turned me on. When I imagined asking her to help me get a body (and maybe a personality too), the butterflies in my stomach increased ten-fold. The entire day was so surreal, that my mind became completely spent. My mind was so overworked with the day's activities that I had lost sight of everything else. I didn't realize I hadn't even said goodnight to my parents. To be honest, I wasn't even sure what time it was. As I started to fall asleep I got the beginnings of an erection, while dreaming of the conversation I would be having tomorrow. I was too tired to do anything about it now. I simply wrapped my fingers around my shaft, gave it the slightest tug and slid up against my pillow, imagining it was my mother's smooth ass as I fell asleep.