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She backed off a bit, blinked and looked at me and shook her head. "Isn't possible," she gasped as my pole filled and rose like a derrick or something. I still had my boxers on, but there it was, pointing at the sky and dripping, almost as thick as a beer can, the head turning purple and helmet-shaped, glistening.My erections, I guess I should explain, are kind of peculiar, I mean not fully unusual but a bit strange in that they don't just stick out or curve like a banana. My cock, which is now about eight-plus inches long but hard to measure except on the underside, when it is ready for action, the thing stands upright, straight up, pointed at the roof, and it's thick, a real handful, and incredibly hard, like wood, honest it is. When I push it down, it jumps back up like it has a spring inside."Don't hurt me," she begged as she lifted one long leg up on my hipbone, pressed my ram downward with both hands, tilted up her belly and impaled herself on it, closing her eyes and gritting. That’s just the way she was. And you didn’t have to ask her; she knew. She put her arms around me, pulling me against her and caressed my hair. Her lips were against my cheek as she murmured, “Would you like to lie down?” She knew I would. I didn’t feed from her every day, not even when Dan was out of town. But sometimes the urge was overpowering. The urge was overpowering now, I wanted to lie with her, badly. As she held me against her breasts, my erection grew long and stiff. Although I was wearing only boxer shorts, I had long since overcome any embarrassment about my mother seeing me this way. She could feel my erection against her leg. She took off her bathrobe and flung it over the rocking chair. With her back to me, she took off her nightgown. She was now wearing only her black panties. She knew I preferred she remove her gown when I fed. The funny thing is, the act didn’t seem overtly sexual. I would say sensual is a more accurate term, in a loving sort of way. Maybe there’s.
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