Back in 1981 Danny Crane was a fairly average 18 year old boy, a sports fan who obsessed about sex like most of his peers. Unfortunately for Danny, his lack of confidence and self esteem combined to make him the only virgin in his circle of friends, although he did eventually claim to have had sex with somebody just to get the teasing to stop.
What Danny discovered he enjoyed doing was watching and he got many peeks at his big sister Eileen until she went off to college, standing outside in all kinds of weather and peeking through her blinds to watch her get dressed and undressed.
His mother though - now that was somebody he really wanted to see naked. Karen Crane was still attractive at 48 years of age, and while she was carrying about 30 extra pounds, most of it seemed to be in the right places as her 38D brassieres would attest to.
Danny's sister Eileen looked a little like their mother as far as the curly black hair and slightly hook nose, but Eileen's tits were not much bigger than lemons. Not that Danny was complaining mind you, but the thought of seeing a busty woman like his mother naked really excited him.
There was no easily accessible window to his parents' bedroom, but as he looked around the master bedroom he thought about the walk-in closets. His father used one and his mother filled the other one with all her clothes, and one day when they were out Danny went into his father's closet, coaxing the suits down a bit and standing at the far end while lifting a slat in the folding door.
Since his mother would be using her own closet as she got ready for work using that one was out, and with all of her clothes filling it that would have been a tight squeeze anyway so this was the only option.
"Could this be any more perfect?" Danny remembers saying to himself as he looked out at his mother's dressing table just feet away. "Dad leaves for work at 7 and after he's gone Mom uses the bathroom and gets ready for work herself, leaving at 8:30. Hop in here when Mom goes into the shower and when she comes back to the bedroom - perfect! Watch her get dressed and then she leaves for work so I can hop out."
The best laid plans of mice and men do go awry however, as they did that Tuesday morning in July at the Crane household. Danny Crane can tell you that himself...
***
"I'm going into work early tomorrow," I told my parents at the dinner table. "Getting a little overtime, and after seeing the price of my books for the first semester I'm going to need it."
"I can take you into town when I leave," my kind father offered but I declined.
"Going to bike down so I can get there by 6:30," I lied. "So unless you want to get up really early..."
"I don't even want to get up when I have to," Dad chuckled.
"Well, I'm lucky to have such industrious men in the household," Mom chirped, and I was in heaven because all was going perfectly.
The next morning I got up at the crack of dawn and showered fast, clearing the way for my father to use the facilities so everybody stayed on schedule. I got onto my bike and peddled down the street, cutting through the little patch of woods at the end of the road and waited for my father to zoom by, and when his car went down the road I raced back home and stashed my bike behind the garage.
The next part would be tricky because Mom usually went into the bathroom about 15 minutes after Dad left, so my timing had to be right. I went to my bedroom window which I had left open a crack, figuring I could hear her turn the shower on, and when she did I would race into the house and position myself in Dad's closet.
Mom was humming/singing something vaguely familiar, her lilting voice barely audible from wherever she was.
"Afternoon Delight?" I muttered to myself when I began to make out what she was singing, shaking my head because my mother's musical taste was a bad as her vocalizing.
Well for me, this was going to be a morning delight I concluded as I nervously patted the lump in my pocket to make sure that the sock was still there and ready to serve me proudly.
Once I got into the closet I was planning on dropping my drawers and slipping the sock over my ever-present boner to jerk off into so when I came my little toy cannon wouldn't make a mess all over Dad's clothes. It was a trick my friend Todd told me about and it had worked quite well for me too.
Then the shower went on. Perfect again! With nobody in the house Mom didn't bother closing the bathroom door so all I had to do was skip down the hall and get into the closet to wait until she emerged.
Perfect yet again. The shower was still roaring when I breezed past the open door and climbed to Dad's closet, making sure the slats were open just right before putting my sock on a very excited pecker.
Shower goes off. I'm sweating like a pig both from nerves and from the humid condition of the closet, but I didn't care about that because I was about to get an up-close view of my mother's chubby and voluptuous body.
What were her tits shaped like? Were they like torpedoes? Were they bell shaped? Did they stick straight out? Probably not because she was almost 50 and besides they were so big and natural. Did Mom have a hairy pussy like my sister? I kind of liked that part of Eileen once I got used to it.
Would Mom be as hot as Adrienne Barbeau, my fantasy woman whose poster in a purple nightie was hanging inside of my own closet? How many episodes of Maude had I suffered through just to get a glimpse of her? Mom looked a little like her too.
Well, maybe not all that much, I concluded as the sweat poured down my face and my dick bobbed in anticipation. A chunky and older version perhaps, I compromised in my head as I tried not to go crazy waiting.
And there she was, walking into the bedroom blissfully unaware she had an audience. Naked as the day she was born, having not bothered with a robe and just holding a towel in her hand with her lush body glistening with dampness.
Was I disappointed? No, she might not have been Adrienne Barbeau but she was far from Maude too. There was so much to look at that my eyes were all over the place, and I caught myself breathing loudly like a bull in heat so I stifled that fast.
Her breasts were even bigger than I had fantasized, and while they weren't as firm as the women in Playboy I liked Mom's better. Her aureolas were about the size of drink coasters and a little oval-shaped, dark crimson in color, and her nipples that I had nursed on 18 years ago were as big as bullets.
With Mom's pendulous tits hanging down to her waist, they hid much of her little belly, and down below the sight of Mom's bush made me cum, the thick black jungle even hairier than my sister's and her triangle was more raggedly formed than Eileen's.
Mom rubbed the towel through her hair, making her tits shake along with the rest of her, and then she had her hair dryer out so I got to watch her from the side as she brushed her curly locks.
I almost laughed when she pointed the hair dryer down between her legs and actually fluffed up the thicket with the brush, making her pussy look even furrier.
By this point I was dripping wet after ten minutes in this little sauna and even though I had just cum my dick was almost hard again because this was the sexiest thing I had even seen.
Mom then looked at her naked reflection in the mirror, posing like Marilyn Monroe with her arms behind her hair, turning and preening and pouting comically. She suddenly made a face and then went over to the dressing table and plucked her Lady Remington out of the holder and got closer to the mirror.
Mom ran the noisy shaver up and down the deep craters of her armpits, and from years of looking under her arms at the dense stubble that filled her plump underarms this took a while, and then she did the same to the other armpit.
My sister used disposable razors which meant that she did it in the shower so I couldn't watch, but they did a better job that the electric if Mom's was any indication. Even in my awkward viewing position after Mom finished it looked like she still had 5 o'clock shadow.
Next Mom lifted a leg up on a chair and ran the razor up and down her plump but curvy legs, first the right and then the left. She grabbed her Secret deodorant and ran it under her arms, and as she did the doorbell rang.
Mom promptly ran - and I mean ran out of the bedroom - but she didn't put on a robe or anything. Her chunky butt jiggled as she turned the corner and went down the hall. What the heck was she doing? Maybe peeking out the door to see who it was? Had she grabbed a robe from the bathroom on the way?
I could hear the front door open and then voices, and I grabbed the door and considered running out of the closet and into my room, but then the voices got louder. Two voices. One my Mom's and the other?
The mystery was solved when my still very naked mother made her re-entrance into the bedroom, chirping happily like a schoolgirl, and behind her?
You could have knocked me over with a feather. There was a Jack Nicholson movie out at that time called "The Postman Always Rings Twice", but in this case the bell only rang once.
I knew the mailman by sight but didn't know the guy's name, although my mother certainly did. The guy's first name was Raymond, something I learned thanks to my mother as the big, tall bald guy followed her into the bedroom. My parents bedroom, and by the way he carried himself it didn't seem like the first time.
This was like a soap opera coming to life except it was my mother there unbuttoning the blue uniform shirt of the mailman who was probably around the same age as she was. My mother was cheating on my father. That hit me like a ton of bricks to begin with, the fact that Raymond the mailman was black was yet another mind-boggler no matter how much of a liberal I thought myself to be back then.
"We have the place to ourselves all morning if you want," Mom was saying as she pulled open the mailman's shirt, exposing a silver and black rug that covered his man boobs.
Mom was not a tiny woman, about 5'5" or so, but the mailman towered over her by about a foot and probably weighed as much as me and my mother put together. It was like King Kong with a chubby Fay Wray in front of him.
"I have to go in at 11," Raymond told Mom in a deep resounding James Earl Jones voice as she knelt down in front of him and undid the belt.
What was I doing? I might have been crying. It was impossible to be sure because I was soaked. I know I was sad and disgusted and was almost tempted to burst out of the closet and start wailing on the guy, as futile as my meek effort would likely have been.
