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On Saturday evening, I came home after playing basketball with friends. I arrived late and Mom already ate. I took a shower, dressed casually and Mom, Ruth, served me dinner in the kitchen while she and her best friend, Stella, sat in the living room, a hearing distance from me.
Usually, I ignored their chat because it was about the latest gossip, food receipt, or dressing fashion. But then I heard something else: “Ruthy, your skin looks so young and shiny all the time but even better today. Why can’t you tell me what are you using? I’d like to use it too and promise not to tell anybody else.”
“Stella, I like you but promised to never tell the secret ingredients. But instead, I’ll give you a bottle, and you can see if it works for you.”
Stella sighed, “OK, I’ll try it at home. May I look at the large container you keep it in?”
“Sure.” They left the living room and entered Mom’s bathroom.
They came out 10 minutes later, and Stella said, “The smell is so familiar, but I cannot put my hand on it.”
Mom smiled, “The lotion has multiple ingredients. No wonder you may smell one or more.” I watched Stella holding a small bottle with the whitish lotion inside.
I thought to myself how all of it started.
…
Mom and Dad divorced 6 years ago. The official reason was irreconcilable differences, but the real issue was Dad’s philandering ways. There wasn’t a single young girl at work he didn’t try to bed, and several of them he succeeded. Initially, for my sake, Mom tolerated his behavior, but when I was in high school, she said, ‘Enough is enough,’ and cut the cord. Dad begged her to accept him back, promising he wouldn’t do it again, but to no avail. The wealth was divided equally, and since then, I stayed with Mom and occasionally visited Dad.
Unlike Dad, who insisted on good meals every evening, forcing Mom to spend much of her time cooking his favorite meals, neither Mom nor I cared much about food, so she found herself having a lot of extra time on her hands. She applied and got accepted to work as a counter saleswoman at a cosmetics shop downtown. The salary wasn’t the issue, but it filled her mornings. In the afternoon, Mom usually went to exercise at the local health club and twice a week did yoga.
Since her divorce, she underwent a radical change. In addition to starting her new job, she increased her time in the health club and began swimming too.
I noticed her chubby appearance changing, and her figure slowly turned more appealing. I complimented her on looking good but didn’t think about her more than ‘it’s nice to have a mother that looks good.’
Until then, my mind was focused on friends, sports, and succeeding in school.
When I turned 19, my best friend, Marty, visited us and said, “Sean, your mother is a real MILF; she must be surrounded by admirers.”
I laughed, “Of course she is beautiful. After all, she is MY mother.”
However, Marty’s words got stuck in my brain, and I started looking at Mom differently.
The realization that Mom was attractive and so close to me, yet I was not paying attention to her looks surprised me. Like other guys my age, now and then, I was watching porn and noticed Mom’s figure wasn’t that different than the starlets on the videos. She was now 5’4″, 125 pounds, dirty blonde shoulder-length wavy hair, blue eyes, and full Angelina Jolly-type lips. But her biggest asset was her D-cup breasts that stood high on her chest.
I recall asking her the following evening, “Mom, since Dad left, you turned into a beautiful woman. Isn’t it time to find a new man and settle with him? Not every man is a jerk like Dad.”
She smiled, “Honey, in the first year after the divorce, I tried my luck with 3 guys that Stella recommended. All 3 were nice but not very interested, likely for being overweight. About a year ago, I tried my luck online, but it was obvious the 2 candidates did not see ME. They were after my body. No, Sean, I am no longer on match sites. I gave up, knowing that at 43 my chances of finding a good guy are slim.”
“Mom, are you kidding me? You are gorgeous, smart, a good cook, and have a lot to offer to any man. Why give up? You have at least 40 more years.”
“That’s OK. I have you, and until you marry, you are mine.”
“Mom, I love you, but please reconsider.”
…
The summer vacation I spent mostly at home and on occasion saw her moving from the bathroom to her bedroom wearing only a bra and panties. She looked amazing.
One day, when Mom was at work, I checked her drawers. The upper one had her bras. All were soft and made of cotton or silk. They were all D-cup and smelled fresh.
The second drawer contained her panties. She had many panties of different materials and colors. Most were low cut, and there was even a thong one. I wondered when she wore that pair… Then I went to the laundry basket. I found 2 used bras that smelled like Mom – mild sweat and a faint perfume. Next, I smelled her used panties. The odor was totally different. It was musky and… antalya travesti intoxicating. All 3 pairs smelled more or less the same, and I was hooked.
Slowly, I became obsessed with Mom. I had no idea what was happening, but my love for MOTHER turned into obsession for ATTRACTIVE WOMAN. I realized it was perverted and likely interpreted as Oedipus complex, but knowing the theory did not diminish my desire to have her.
One evening, I saw her peeling potatoes on the sink. I came behind her and hugged her waist, “Mom, you work in the shop everyday, exercise in the afternoons, and watch TV in the evenings. You never go out. It’s time to see that there are places to go. We can go to the movies, or the nearest park, or even take a trip somewhere.”
She gazed at me and said, “You are a good son, and I am proud of you. You turned out to be a handsome young man and doing well at school. I do not see a reason why you don’t spend your time with a nice young girl rather than an old maid. I am doing fine, and I like watching TV programs.”
“Mom, I love you more than all the spring chickens who care about chatting and texting all day long on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. I wish to spend more time with you and in the process, take you away from your routine and boring life.”
She grinned, “Sean, I don’t know why all of a sudden you become so persistent. OK, I’ll go with you to see a movie, but if you choose one that has too many killings or zombies, I’m going to leave in the middle.”
I hugged her, “Tell me what kind of movie you prefer.”
“Anything romantic, whether drama or comedy, would be OK. Even an action film is acceptable, but to see 200 men being slaughtered on screen is not for me.”
I smirked, “Will it be acceptable if I find a romantic comedy with no more than 100 dead?”
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”
I checked the local theaters and came up with 2 options. I mentioned to her A Family Affair with Nicole Kidman, and Titanic in the landmark theater.
She said, “I heard so much about Titanic but never saw it.”
“Good choice. It has romantic moments and good music, but remember the end of this famous boat, so don’t blame me when passengers die.”
Mom laughed, “I won’t blame you. But I may cry if it’s too sad.”
…
We went to see Titanic on Thursday evening. That afternoon, she went to yoga and then exercised at the club. Afterward, she took a shower and dressed up. She looked fantastic: A short blue dress that hugged her figure and 3″ heel shoes with matching colors.
I commented, “You look great. How come I’ve never seen you dressed like that before?”
She blushed, “I don’t go out, so there is no reason to dress up. Actually, I never used it before. On my last birthday, I felt greedy and bought the dress and shoes, although I wasn’t sure I’d ever wear them. They just made me feel good about my body.”
“Mom, your body is perfect. If you weren’t my Mom, I’d ask you for a date.”
She chuckled, “Thanks for the compliment, but with all the young girls your age, I would hardly be the best candidate to date.”
“You are so wrong. You underestimate yourself. Is it related to the way Dad behaved?”
“I don’t know. You are right to say I felt bad about my appearance years ago, and lately, I feel better, but many years have passed, and I got used to my comfortable routine without thinking about it anymore.”
“Are you saying you lost your hormones in the process?”
“Not at all. But I am realistic, and not looking to get into trouble outside the house. In the health club, I often notice men ogling me, but after I politely rejected advances from 2 men, others just stare at my every move.”
We arrived to the theater, and it was no surprise the room was mostly empty. These days, the successful old movie could be seen on many TV channels, and there was no need to pay extra at the theater.
We sat toward the back in a couple of center seats and munched on popcorn until the movie started. Mom and I talked about her exercises. She was proud she lost weight and her shape improved.
I looked at her and commented, “I may be biased, but in my opinion, you are simply gorgeous. And your dress looks like it was tailored to your body. A perfect combination. I am proud to be seen with you.”
She gave me a strange look but remained quiet.
The movie starts with a robotic device exploring the remains of the big ship for a large blue diamond that was supposedly lost when it sank. Then, the director goes back in time to 1912 and shows young Leonardo Di Caprio struggling to get on the ship. To follow, there is a scene where Kate Winslet and her snob boyfriend are on the Titanic.
In the beginning, both Mom and I sat back, enjoying the amazing setting and the efforts to decorate the set like it was more than 100 years ago. Later, when Leo met Kate, and their love started flourishing, Mom bent forward, mesmerized by the drama.
I had seen the movie twice before and knew izmir travesti exactly what was coming, so I was less focused on the screen. I watched her intense facial expression, but then I noticed the upper part of her dress got separated from her body. I sat up straight and could see down her cleavage. The way she sat, with her arms folded, pushed her tits together and accentuated their effect on me. My mind was so into Mom’s breasts that I didn’t see her glancing at me and realizing where my mind was until she whispered, “Honey, the interesting movie is on the screen, not on my chest.”
I stuttered, “Soory, Mom. It won’t happen again.”
She grinned, “That’s OK, son.”
Then, the scenes of the damage to the ship by the iceberg and the reaction of the passengers appeared, and I saw the tension on Mom’s face. The mayhem on the upper deck enhanced her stress, and I noticed her gripping the sides of her seat. Later, we observed passengers falling to their deaths or electing to sacrifice themselves to save others. Tears started appearing on Mother’s face.
I hugged her and said, “Mom, take it easy. It’s only a movie.”
She whispered, “I know, but it really happened.”
The longer the tragedy lasted, the sadder Mom looked, and her tears continued to pour. I hugged her tighter, “I am here for you.”
“I know, honey,” and her head leaned on my shoulder.
While Mom’s eyes were hypnotized on the large screen, her new position offered me a better view of her bra-covered tits. Every couple of minutes, she shivered slightly, and the upper part of her bra slid slightly, displaying a bit more of her creamy mammaries. With her head on my shoulder, her smell penetrated my nose like a dagger, affecting my brain’s arousal center, and my penis began stiffening. Five minutes later, it was all the way up, begging to be free from its cage.
I had to adjust my erect member that was pushing hard on the waistband of my briefs. I tried to do it with my free left hand but couldn’t do it without unzipping my fly. I gingerly lowered the zipper. When it was all the way down, my pecker jolted, and the top emerged above the waistband.
Exactly at that moment, on the screen, Caledon shot Jack. Mom’s hand moved in my direction, and her fingers met my exposed prick. Her hand retreated swiftly, and she looked at my groin. Despite the dark theater, Mom could not mistake my exposed hard pole for anything else. She watched my eyes for a moment, sighed, and then moved back to her seat. I was blushing profusely, but I was sure she couldn’t notice it.
For the rest of the movie, Mom stayed in her seat, and a couple of times, I watched her crying. However, I did not dare touch or talk to her again. I was sure she would not forgive me for my transgression.
When the movie ended, we walked out without talking. On the way to the car, I saw Mom’s red eyes from crying. I drove home, and her silence was killing me. After 15 minutes, I turned to her, “Mom, I am really sorry.”
With her eyes on the road, she mumbled, “Please, drive carefully. We’ll talk at home.”
For the next 15 minutes, until we arrived home, no words were said.
…
As I shut the engine, Mom opened her door and disappeared into her bedroom. I tried to watch TV, but my mind was too distracted. I just sat there waiting to hear Mom chastise me.
She came out of her room half an hour later wearing a long robe, and her eyes were red again. She stared at me and said, “Honey, if you were me, how would you have dealt with the new situation?”
“I don’t know. I went to the movies with several girls before and never had such a reaction. I can only say that I never felt toward anybody else what I feel about you. I love you more than just a mother. I love you as a gorgeous woman. You can call me a pervert, but that is how I feel.”
She gazed at my eyes for about a minute, then sighed and went back to her bedroom. I didn’t see Mom until the next morning. She served my breakfast quietly, and when I was done, she put everything in the sink and went to work.
I remained at home, knowing I had screwed badly. Mom was the only one I ever cared about, and now I lost her. I felt so desperate; I wanted to die.
Mom arrived at 1 pm. She immediately entered her bedroom. She exited at 4 pm as I heard the bell ring. I opened the door. It was Stella, Mom’s best friend.
She said, “Sean, you are becoming so handsome that if you are ever into mature women, think of me.” It was an apparent joke, and I blushed. Mom heard it too, and I saw a little smile on her face.
Mom and Stella sat in the living room and started chatting.
I was working on my computer in the kitchen and heard Stella calling me, “Hey, handsome, would pour Chardonnay for your Mom and me, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I brought the 2 glasses and saw Mom eyeing me with a broad smile on her face.
I returned to my computer, and the ladies’ voices turned extremely quiet. I looked in their direction and noticed they were whispering at each other, occasionally staring at me. Mom seemed to be more serious, while Stella seemed upbeat and chuckled a couple of times. What the hell they were talking about? No way Mom would tell Stella what happened in the theater, right?…
When Stella was about to leave, I joined Mom to accompany her to the door. Before leaving, Stella winked at me and blurted, “Sean, don’t forget about my offer. I asked your Mom’s permission, and she agreed. You know my phone number. Good night.”
After she left, I asked Mom, “What was that all about?”
She half-smiled and mumbled, “Honey, we need to talk.”
I sat and waited for her to start.
She glanced at me for a moment, then her eyes shifted to the floor, “I know how you feel about me. I knew it for quite some time because you weren’t very careful going through my underwear and the way you stared at me when I was not completely dressed. I considered it the Oedipus complex, which is common among guys your age. I even mentioned it to Stella and asked her for advice. She laughed and said you were such a stud that she wouldn’t lose sleep going to bed with you. I told her I was serious, and her response was that she was serious too. What I didn’t tell her was that seeing you growing up, turning into an attractive hunk, and showing signs of looking at me with hungry eyes woke some hidden feelings in me as well. Your similarity to Dad when he was young is amazing. Years ago, I was captured by his good looks. But unlike him, you are a good man.”
“Mom, what are you saying?”
“I see that age is not a drawback in your mind. If Stella’s offer is serious, would you consider an affair with her?”
“Mom, are you nuts? I like Stella and consider her our friend. Her face is cute, and the way she dresses, her body doesn’t look bad either. But there is one little issue: I don’t want her. I love you and only you!”
She said, “I thought so, but I promised Stella to try. The fact that you are willing to commit immoral things does not deter you?”
“Mom. I really love you. If you had another man to share your life with, I’d keep my obsession with you a secret. But you refuse to look for another partner. From your short speech, I get that you don’t find me disgusting. Don’t you get it: When one is in love, it doesn’t matter if the subject is young or old, black or white, man or woman. I love you and see no reason to care whether you are my mother, sister, or even brother.”
I saw tears in her eyes, and she whispered, “Honey, you make my life very hard.”
I didn’t answer, but I thought she was making me hard, too…
Mom heated the already-prepared dinner and served it on 2 plates. We sat one in front of the other. We didn’t talk, but now and then, our eyes met, and both of us smiled. I began feeling better.
We watched a silly movie on TV, sitting side by side on the sofa. At one point, Mom grabbed my hand, put it around her shoulder, and leaned her head on my chest.
I was surprised and elated. I just sat there, frozen, not daring to move, afraid to break the magic moment. We were silent the whole movie. It ended at 10 pm.
When the movie ended, Mom looked at me with a strange smile and said, “Honey, I am going to bed.”
…
I sat on the sofa and saw her walking to her room and leaving the door ajar. I waited 10 minutes, and since she hadn’t closed it, I peeked in. Mom was sitting in front of a mirror with her back to me. She was wearing a bra and panties, loosening her blonde hair, and watching me through the mirror.
I walked slowly and stopped behind her. I put my hands on her shoulders and massaged them gently. Mom closed her eyes, leaned her head on my abdomen, and arched her back. It felt like an invitation, but I wasn’t sure.
Slowly I moved my palm to her upper chest, waiting to see if she’d stop me. Mom didn’t. Her breathing turned faster and shallower the closer my fingers reached her covered breasts. A moment later, I cupped her twin peaks and felt them. They were heavy and firm. I tweaked them tenderly, and Mom moaned. Her hands covered mine and moved with them. When I first touched her nipples, they felt hard. Mom murmured, “Honey, my nipples are very sensitive.”
I leaned over and whispered, “I’d love to see and feel your breasts.”
She bent forward, exposing her back. I unclasped her bra. The soft bra fell forward, showing a stunning set of tits: Round, large, pinkish, with little sag and darker, hard nipples staring forward and up. I gazed wide-eyed at her beauties, unable to move. Actually, it wasn’t true. My eyes and legs didn’t move, but my cock shot up like a missile ready for a launch.
I touched her warm flesh softly and heard Mom groan again. I kneaded her boobs, unable to stop playing with her perfect tits. And then I asked, “Mom, may I kiss them?”
“Yes, darling. You can.”
I moved before her, spread her legs slightly, knelt down between them, and kissed a quarter-size dark pink nipple. It tasted great. I milked it gently. Mom’s hand caressed my hair, and she mumbled, “My little baby.”
I continued sucking her sweet nipple. She began moaning loudly, and her thighs parted further. I moved to suck on the other nipple and heard Mom, “Honey, you are making me very horny…”
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