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I met my girlfriend in my Junior year at Penn State. We were both Physical Education majors. But our relationship grew due to our mutual love of CrossFit. That’s a specific type of training which really became popular a few years ago. It involves cardio, bodyweight exercises and Olympic-style weight lifting. In fact, my girlfriend and I competed together in a ‘CrossFit Games’ program on a specific sports-themed cable television network.
I graduated a semester earlier than my girlfriend. It was supposed to be a happy, exciting time for us. The night I graduated, I proposed to my girl and she accepted. We stayed up late that night dreaming of our future. We agreed, when she graduated in the spring, we would move to California. It was sort of the fitness capitol of the United States. To establish a life in that culture was a dream for both of us.
I took my new fiancée to my parents’ home in New Jersey for Christmas. We were going to share our plans for marriage and moving out west. But when we arrived, there was a palatable air of gloom in the house. Before we could share our news, my father announced he and my mother were getting a divorce. Neither of them elaborated as to why. My mother wouldn’t, or couldn’t, say anything at all. I sensed she had been crying a lot over this development. She probably wouldn’t have been able to keep it together if I had tried to press her for reasons.
Although we had planned to stay for a week, my girl and I only stayed one night. We were too excited about the developments in our own life to be in that house of gloom for the holidays. We drove back to Pennsylvania and managed to have a pleasant little Christmas together. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about my parents, specifically my mother. I wasn’t worried about my father. He had a good paying executive position in a multi-national company. He had many friends as well. My mother, on the other hand, had never worked since she got married. Her ‘friends’ were really my father’s friends with whom she was required to socialize. Now they were divorcing, I was sure they would all abandon her. I had a sad image of my mother, alone and feeling forsaken.
So when the New Year started, I began calling my mother twice a week. I was happy with the fact she got to keep the house and was receiving a livable alimony check each month. I didn’t have any advice for her. I just called to be there, to be a friend. It was initially strange because our relationship had previously been that of a typical mother and son. We had always loved each other, but our roles were clearly defined. Now, she began opening up to me about things mothers don’t typically share with their sons. Not sexual things but hopes, fears, regrets, reminisces of old loves, of my father when he was courting her. I could tell she loved our conversations. I was more than happy to be her sounding board.
She eventually confessed to why my father divorced her. It was your typical story of a successful man hitting a mid-life crisis. He apparently began an affair with a woman in his office 20 years his junior. My mother was willing to forgive him for love and the sake of the marriage. But he was compelled to chase his youth with this new relationship. My mother was heartbroken but surprisingly philosophical over everything. Her reaction was to overhaul of her own life. She wanted to get back into the shape she was 20 years ago when she had me. She asked me for diet and workout plans. Given that was my expertise, I complied. She also said she had a surprise for me next time I came to visit.
That visit came at the end of April. My girl was taking her final exams, so I thought I’d get out of the apartment and let her study in peace. I was really looking forward to seeing my mother in person. We had grown close over the last 4 months. Yes, my wife-to-be was my best friend. But my mom had become my co-best friend (Believe me, I would never admit that to my fiancée). I had plans to take her out. Maybe we could go to Atlantic City for the day. Like most people with my major, I made a few bucks on the side as a personal trainer. And as a very fit, I admit good looking, 21-year-old personal trainer, my female clients were very generous with their tips. My girlfriend believed I was totally faithful when I trained those women. All I’ll say is, you don’t make 200.00 an hour helping people do sit-ups.
I rang the doorbell to the home I grew up in. The door opened only a few inches. My mother’s smiling eyes appeared.
“Hello, handsome! Are you ready for the surprise?”
I laughed and said, “Yes! Yes!” I had no idea what she was up to.
She announced, “Ta-da!” and swung open the door.
She had lost maybe 20 pounds. You could see it in her face. Not that she was overweight to begin with. But she had definitely tightened up the package. The SURPRISE, and man, was it ever, were her breasts. Specifically, her apparent boob job. Her boobs were amazing! The had to be a full d cup. And on her petite frame, they canlı bahis were the center of attraction. She was wearing a light blue v-neck tee shirt . Her nipples poked out a half inch, like fat thumbs. There was obviously no bra there. I know our relationship had evolved from that of parent and child to one of close friends. But this moment had me dumbstruck. She was mouth-watering delicious… but she was still my mother.
She stood in the doorway, her arms held open, exhibiting these new, magnificent additions.
“Well, what do you think?” she smiled. I think the fact my mouth was hanging open and my eyes were bugging out told her everything she needed to know. And she was apparently happy.
She stepped to me and gave me the most incredibly loving hug I’ve ever had.
“I’m so happy to see you.” She purred.
After a good minute, she finally pulled away. Her unavoidable nipples were even more erect. She kissed me on the mouth, emphasizing her happiness at seeing me.
“Mom, your, uh, boobs are amazing!” I managed to sputter.
She looked down at them, grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled down. This exposed even more cleavage. She pulled within a millimeter of her areolas. She was proud of her new titties. And apparently, felt not the slightest bit of modesty.
“Oh honey, I’m so glad you like them. I went to the best doctor in New York City. This is the exact size they were when I was breastfeeding you. That was the time of my life when I felt most attractive. After I weened you, they dropped 2 cup sizes and flatted out. I’m so happy to have them back!”
“Well, I must be having a flashback because suddenly I’m very hungry.”
As soon as I said that, I wondered what in the world came over me. I just told my mother I wanted suck her tits! Thankfully, it was apparently the right thing to say. She squealed with laughter and wrapped her arms around me again.
I was a bit tired after the 4-hour drive from State College. My girl had put me through a marathon lovemaking session the night before, knowing we’d be apart for a week. Mom had me sit at the kitchen table while she made me a sandwich. She told me how she had gotten her boob job a month ago. She said she was very sore for the first couple weeks. Now they were still sensitive, but in a ‘good way’.
“When I’m alone in the house, I’m normally topless. Just having to wear this tee shirt in front of you has me all hot-n-bothered.”
I just about choked on my sandwich, which made mother laugh out loud.
“I haven’t really shown them off. I wanted you to be the first to really see them.”
I wondered if she understood how that sounded to me. I assumed she was simply proud of her new body, her new look. And since I had given her some diet and exercise advise, she wanted to show her appreciation. But I was lusting for her in a serious way. And all this talk about her tits was beginning to be torturous.
I asked her if she had bought any nice cloths specifically for her new body. She said no, so I gave her my charge card and told her to go out and buy something nice. I would take her out that evening. After trying to refuse, she eventually accepted. In truth, I wanted a nap and to cool my jets for a while. I hadn’t stopped drooling over her barely-covered knockers from the moment I got there.
She put on a much more modest outfit, gave me a kiss and headed out. I went upstairs to my old room and jacked off to relieve the tension she had created. I fell asleep almost as soon as I shot my load. Thankfully, I had pulled a sheet over my naked body before passing out because I awoke a couple hours later to my mother standing at the foot of the bed.
“Baby, you look like a young Greek God sleeping there.”
The sheet barely came above my freshly jerked cock, leaving my entire upper body for my mother to ogle. And she did so shamelessly. She looked like a hungry lioness about to pounce. I asked what she got at the store, which snapped her out of whatever lecherous fantasy she was lost in. She smiled and said, “You’ll see.”
About 10 miles outside my hometown is one of the nicest restaurants in southern New Jersey. I called and was lucky enough to get reservations for two. There were some acceptable cloths for me to wear still hanging in my closet. My mother retreated into the master bedroom, where she had her own full bath and walk-in closet. I passed by her door a couple times to hear her singing to herself as she prepared for dinner. I was delighted to see her so happy.
I was drinking a glass of my father’s fine scotch, waiting for her downstairs. Just as time was demanding we leave, she appeared at the top of the staircase. She wore a black dress. The neckline plunged almost to her bellybutton. It did not allow for a bra. But her breasts were so deliciously round and full, there was no need for one. The sides of the dress were open, allowing for a massive amount of tit exposure. She wore a diamond necklace which drew even more attention bahis siteleri to her décolletage. The desire to pull aside the cloth covering her nipples and begin sucking was almost overwhelming.
I didn’t want to smear her carefully applied make-up, so I took her hand and kissed it. She cooed in approval. I opened the car door for her. I could see as she sat down her dress was slit very high up her thigh. As we drove, she took my hand and placed it on her leg with her hand resting on top of mine.
“No stockings tonight?” I observed.
“No, with my breast so sensitive, it seems everything is more sensitive. My legs, my… Well, everything.” She giggled.
I was disciplined enough to keep my attention on the road and not the smooth, delectable flesh under my hand. Still, my cock was in a state of three quarter erection and promised to stay that way all night. We got to the restaurant a bit early. This gave us some time to go to their bar and have a drink. I have to say, my mom made quite an impression. Almost all the men and a good portion of the women we saw stared lustfully at her amazing body and the dress that framed it. My mother was glowing with pride under their obvious admiration. I was as mesmerized as everyone else, even though I had had a few more hours to be with her.
During dinner, the conversation was light and fun. I avoided talking about my planned move out west. In fact, I was starting to think that was a bad idea. I love this woman before me. Talking on the phone twice a week was nice, but to be in her presence was something I didn’t want to live without. Not simply because of her arresting body. It was everything about her. I was going to have to have a serious talk with my fiancée when I got back to Pennsylvania.
After a wonderful dinner, we drove back home. The night was dark. The atmosphere in the car was electric. We had laughed and enjoyed ourselves all evening. We had each had a few drinks and were feeling loose and free. The feeling of love between us was strong. My mom put my hand back on her thigh then leaned over to my face as I drove.
“Honey, your mother is feeling very, VERY wicked right now.”
“Now, now… be a good girl. I want to get us home in one piece.”
She whined at my response like a spoiled child not getting her way. She kissed my cheek then bit my earlobe. She settled back in her seat.
“When we get back, I want you to help me with something. I know you’ll enjoy it.” She growled.
“Ooo.. I can’t wait.” I replied, squeezing the flesh under my hand.
She sang along to the radio the rest of the way home. Again, my heart was warmed by her obvious good mood. When we finally got back, she told me to get into something comfortable and meet her in the living room. I took a quick shower and dressed in my sleeping attire, which was a tee shirt and boxer shorts. I was a little nervous but not at all conflicted. I was enjoying every second of her flirting and teasing. I was up for whatever and would not have a second of apprehension at anything she might want to do.
I went downstairs and turned the television on to a station that played meditative music 24/7. I let the screen be the only light in the room. Soon my mother appeared. She was wearing a silk robe that, again, betrayed the fact she was braless underneath. She walked up to me and gave me another long, warm hug. She pulled back just enough to look me in the face. My cock had never relaxed from its earlier state of agitation. My shaft nestled against her pubis. I know she could feel me between the thin layers of cloth separating us.
“Baby, thank you so much for tonight. You made me feel so wonderful. I haven’t been this happy since I can’t remember.”
She kissed me on the lips. It was an opened mouth kiss for the first time. There was no tongue, but it was loving, warm, soft and passionate. We eventually parted and she looked me in the eye while she licked her lips. ‘Delicious’ she whispered.
She had me sit on the couch. She left the room for a moment and came back with a little white jar.
“Baby, I’ve been rubbing this into my breasts for the last month. It is supposed to help with pain and swelling. I’m almost done with it. I thought you’d want to help mommy out and rub it in for me tonight.”
I felt like I had just won the lottery. I could only nod and say, “Yes please!”
She smiled and shrugged off her robe. Her body was breathtaking. If you didn’t know, you’d think her breasts were real. Perfect, mouth-watering but real. They hung magnificently as a 45 year old woman’s should. Her areolas were the size of half dollars, tipped with fat, succulent nipple. Nipples that begged to be sucked. She was clearly in shape but had a bit of a paunch that only made her that much more feminine. In contrast, my wife had a steel cable, six pack abs. Good for aerobics and weightlifting but not the sexiest thing for a hetro man to kiss.
She shyly placed her hands over her smoothly-shaved bahis şirketleri beaver. I had never laid eyes on a sexier vision. She directed me to sit at one end of the couch. She had me put my legs up so she could sit between them, her back against my chest. She wiggled up against me, my rock-hard cock nestled between her ass cheeks. The thin fabric of my boxer the only barrier between us. I threw off my shirt and wrapped my arms around her. She smelled like wildflowers. She hummed her pleasure over our skin-on-skin contact. I looked over her shoulder as she opened the lid of her breast cream.
She turned her face to mine. Our lips were an inch apart. “Take some, baby.” She whispered, offering the open jar. I dipped three fingers in and withdrew a dollop. I warmed the ointment between my hands. It felt silky and had a sweet, delicate musky smell. My mom set the jar down, closed her eyes and laid her head back between my neck and shoulder. My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the globes I’d been lusting over all day. I cupped the underside of each simultaneously. Mom gave a quick intake of breath, then a purr of pleasure as I slowly, ever so slowly ran my hands up from under her breasts, over her turgid nipples and further, to almost her collarbone. I reversed course, achingly, slowly retracing the journey to the underside of her breasts. Back and forth I made this trip until each breast fully glistened with cream in the flickering light of the television. Then I used both hands per tit, holding it on both sides then running each hand across the slick skin to the nipple peak, giving it a gentle tug with each pass.
Mother began to moan and squirm as my manipulations continued. I could see her sliding her thighs together, trying to rub her clit between them. I turned my face to her ear and whispered.
“Mom, you can touch yourself if you want. Do it, please. I want to see you.” She opened her eyes and looked at me.
“Really, baby? You want to see mommy touch herself for you?” She breath into my mouth.
I nodded in accent. We met in a kiss, her tongue demanding mine. At the same time, I felt her legs open. I turned to look down. She was running her finger up and down between the petals of her flower. At the top, a large clit stood out, wanting to be caressed. Mom would tug at it every third or fourth pass. Or she would twirl her finger around it like a mini tornado. Mom was also nipping at my neck and ear whenever a particularly intense wave of pleasure hit her. All the while I was pulling and strumming at her nips. Then she began to finger herself. Soon the room was filled with the obscene noise of her fingers plunging in and out of her drenched pussy. As it became clear her orgasm was moments away, I asked her to stop and give me her masturbating fingers to lick. She hesitantly withdrew them and lifted them to my mouth. With the lids of her eyes half-closed, her mouth opened as mine did, watching as I took her finger into my mouth. I ran my tongue up, down and around each pussy cream coated digit. When I was done she returned them to the task of fucking her. Our mouths met again as her orgasm hit her like a train. She jerked and spasmed in my arms while I held her, preventing her from falling to floor.
“Oh my God! Baby… Baby… Oh my God..” She kept repeating as she caught her breath. She closed her legs and curled into a fetal position on my chest. I simply held her, basking in the amazement of the most incredible moment I’ve ever lived. Soon her breathing was normal, then replaced with the deeper breathing of sleep. I lifted her up and carried her to her bedroom. Laying her on the bed, I kissed her cheek. She whispered, “I love you” as I draped a blanket over her naked body. Then I left her room for my own.
Waking up the next day, I was most surprised at how I felt no regret over what happened. I mean none. The only negative feeling about yesterday came when I checked my cellphone. My fiancée had called twice and left a bunch of text messages. I last contacted her when I had arrived at my mom’s the day before, just to let her know I made it safe. I didn’t think of reaching out to her since. And I didn’t feel like speaking to her that morning either.
After freshening up, I walked downstairs to find my mother in the kitchen. All she wore were some black satin panties. She turned and embraced me as soon as she heard my footsteps.
“Are you alright, baby?” She spoke into my chest.
“More than alright. Yesterday was amazing. I love you so much.”
She stepped back, opened her arms and presented herself to me.
“How do you like it? This is how I dress every day.”
“You wear it well, my love.” I said with a wink. My cock jumped in my boxers, catching my mother’s eye.
“I do feel bad about one thing, baby. Come here.”
She grabbed my hand and led me to the living room. She sat down on the couch and had me stand before her.
“You were so good to me yesterday.” She said. Her face was level with my swollen crotch. “I want to do something nice for you.” With that she lowered my boxers, freeing my fully erect cock. She held it with admiration, slowly running her hand up and down the shaft. She looked up at me.
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