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Foot fetish fun between siblings.

She looked like she had been about to say something. Her mouth was hanging open, but whatever she had been going to say had died in her throat. All that came out instead was a tiny whimper, then nothing.

We locked eyes for ten seconds, neither of us moving or even breathing. Finally I realized that I was standing there naked from the waist down holding my massive erection in front of my mother. I ripped the sheet off my bed, and wrapping it around myself yelled out "Jesus fucking Christ mom, have you ever heard of knocking!?"

When she didn't respond and instead continued to stare, I followed her gaze down to my crotch and realized that the sheet wasn't exactly helping. My cock was pitching a tent in it, and the spot where the head connected to it was already soaked clean through. Dropping the sheet to the floor, I walked straight over to the door. My mother's eyes were like the Mona Lisa, and I could tell she was seeing nothing but my cock as I came and stood before her. Reaching out I gave her a slight push in the stomach to get her out of the doorway. The push seemed to knock her out of her trance, and lifting her eyes she looked up again at me.

I met her gaze then grabbing my door yelled "Knock next time mom!" before slamming it shut.

I stood waiting silently. A few minutes passed before I heard my mother's soft footsteps in the hallway and finally on the stairs.

I was so mad. I ripped off my shirt and curling it into a ball threw it against the door. 'How could she do that' I thought. 'This house has a damn rule about knocking for a reason'.

I fumed in my room, pacing back and forth naked. Finally though, I calmed down and sat on my bed. In the heat of the moment I had been furious, but looking back now, I was already starting to feel guilty. So my mother had walked in on me naked. That had been an accident. What had I done? I had watched her exercise, perving on her in secret. And when she started to masturbate, did I walk away? No, I had stared as my mother went off like a volcano, howling like a banshee.

It wasn't her fault I fell down and alerted her to my presence. It wasn't her fault for wanting to masturbate, god knows she didn't date anyway. I didn't know why she was home, but I was sure that probably wasn't her fault either. I should have realized she would come looking for the person that had made the noise, so really getting caught with my pants down wasn't her fault either. But what was I going to do about it? I needed to talk to her. I didn't know what I would say, but I had to smooth things over somehow. I knew that she probably felt horrible about what had just happened. Hell, she hadn't even yelled at me for cursing. But there was no way she could feel as horrible as I was feeling right now.

Resolving myself to the uncomfortable task ahead, I got dressed. Thankfully my erection had faded, and I was able to fit properly inside my clothes. I marveled again at the sheer size of the limp package I was sporting thanks to my mother before tucking it into a clean pair of boxers and pulling on some workout shorts.

I opened my door and sticking my head out, paused, listening. Nothing. I walked down the hall and down the stairs. The house was quiet as a mouse. With no sign of my mother, I made my way to the kitchen, where I finally found her. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, gazing out the sliding glass door. She was holding a cup of coffee in her hands, but it was full, as if she hadn't even taken a sip yet.

Clearing my throat, I stepped into the kitchen and sat down at the end of the table. Whatever my mom was thinking about, my presence had not disturbed her. Quietly, I said "Mom?" Again, louder this time, "Mom?"

I watched as her eyes unfocused, then turning her head she looked at me. When she spoke she put her eyes down, and her voice was soft. "Jake, I'm so sorry. I should have knocked first. I didn't expect anyone to be home this early. I was so embarrassed too, I thought that maybe..." her voice broke and then stopped altogether.

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