After pausing for a moment, I released the dress and slipped my hands underneath, opening and stretching my fingers to clasp Mom's inner thighs, palm down on each leg. Slowly, in time with the music, I moved my hands in until they bracketed Mom's panties. Then, after another brief pause, I began pressing in, squeezing her panties between the edges of my two hands, puffing them out, like two hamburger patties being forced out of a bun but unable to escape, prevented by the thin wall of her panties. Faster and faster I squeezed as the music rose but gently, always gently, and never moving my hands onto the panties, just pressing from the side to squeeze Mom's pubes together, then relaxing, again and again and again. I couldn't help humping the fleshy part at the back of Mom's dress. I tried to stop myself but I just couldn't. I twisted my hips in small thrusts, in tandem with my squeezing hands, faster and faster, with the music, always with the music, and then ...Mom cried. Or so I tried to convince myself. The pond was almost a perfect circle, ringed by a dense, red-green mat of moss. Tufts of the crimson carpet had torn itself loose and was floating lazily along the edges of the water, looking like the filthy hair of whatever skulked beneath the surface. Sorry excuses for saplings tried to eek out a living amid the sparse tufts of grass, toppling over once they realized there was no firm ground to stand on. The nearest hard surface was the probing roots of tall fir trees standing by the edges of the mire. Their pointed spires just somewhat darker than the blue night sky beyond. When I arrived at the pond, the sun had already set, and the trees cast long, dark shadows over the swampy edges of the water. A slight breeze made them whisper to me like voices from ages past. The whispers continued towards the water, stirring up tiny waves of silver which reflected the full moon to every nook nearby. Above the sparkling surface, clouds of mist began to.
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