A note from the author: After being a fan of this site for some time now, I thought it would be fun to write about some of the relatively unique experiences that I've been fortunate enough to enjoy. For the most part, everything I'll write happened as I describe, except that I've changed a few names and minor details to keep everyone involved anonymous. While I think this submission is very exciting, it doesn't contain any sex (future submissions definitely will, however).
All characters in this story are 18 and over throughout this story.
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My mother, to this day, is the most glamorous woman I've ever known. She was born and raised in France and met my American father while he was living and working there briefly in the early 70's. She had just completed her university studies at a prestigious French school and had moved to Paris when she met my father there through mutual friends. As clichéd as it may sound, the older, charming, and successful businessman fell in love with the 21 year old voluptuous, blonde-haired, green-eyed beauty. By all accounts, their courtship was fast and furious and soon afterward, they were married. They moved back to the United States a short while later and not long after that, I was born.
Sadly, when I was still a little boy, my father passed away. I was too young to recall much of anything about him but my mother, who has always been an incredibly strong woman, never fully recovered, and it would be another twenty years before she entered into a serious relationship with a man. Although she has always been independent and adventurous, she has also had an air of sadness about her. As I would imagine is often the case when a mother or father suddenly lose his or her partner unexpectedly, she put all of her energy into raising me. One thing we weren't lacking for was money, as my father had left behind a sizable estate, and although we weren't quite rich, we were certainly well-off. When I started school, my mother found a part-time job at a library to keep herself busy during the day.
My mother doted on me quite a bit, but I can't say that I was ever really spoiled. In many ways, she treated me more like a best friend than a son. She kept in close touch with her younger sister Rochelle, who also was now married to an American and living on the other side of the country in California; but besides some women at the library with whom she was also close to, she spent most of her time with me.
Although this pre-dated the acronym itself, my mother was definitely a MILF. To me, she was just "mom," but I remember thinking even at a very young age that she was a lot prettier than all of the other moms, and I remember the effect that she had on many of my friends, schoolmates, and their parents. Looking back on it I can say that even as I was becoming a teenager and she was approaching 40, she had a really feminine, hour-glass figure. Her makeup was always done perfectly and she always wore skirts or dresses - in fact, to this day, she's never owned a pair of jeans. She was very together and composed in every way, with a quiet confidence and a unique charm that made people want to be around her.
While she radiated an air of sophistication, she had a very adventurous side as well. In fact, particularly by American standards, one could say she was very progressive in many ways. My mom raised me to understand there was nothing at all shameful about the human body and, for example, she was always dumbfounded by how big of a deal Americans would make out of seeing a topless or naked woman. Growing up, seeing my mother walk around the house without much clothing on wasn't unusual at all. When I had become a teenager (an 18 year old teenager, of course!), I remember my friends made a big deal out of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue that one of them had at home. After she heard about all of the commotion the magazine had created, I found an issue of Playboy sitting on my bed. She told me that there was nothing wrong with what I would see in the magazine and that she didn't want me to grow up making a big deal out of nudity. She got me a subscription soon afterward, and naturally, I continued to think that I had the coolest mom in the world.
Back then being a teenager who had access to a magazine like Playboy was a BIG deal. I was a bright, good-looking, and athletic teen so I never really had problems making friends, but having a nice house with a pool and my own porn stash definitely didn't hurt. Because I had a bigger house and a cool mom, my house was always the destination of choice for sleepovers and just hanging out in general among my friends. My mother really encouraged and facilitated this because she hated staying in that house without me. Although she didn't spend much time with us when my friends were over, she liked knowing that we were around and would pop in on us from time to time.
My best friend at the time (and still to this day) was a kid named Brandon, who was a lot like me, and would be a frequent presence at my house. My mother cared a great deal for him, and would tell him that she viewed him as another son and the brother that I never had. Although Brandon was known for being just a bit of a smart aleck with some of the parents of our other friends, he was still a really good, well-behaved kid, and like just about everyone else I knew, he was a little bit intimidated by my mother.
Brandon and I, like most of our other friends, were obsessed with sports. The vast majority of what we talked about prior to becoming teenagers was sports-related, but as we got older, girls naturally became a regular part of our conversations. By the time we were juniors in high school, Brandon was on the varsity soccer team and was about 5'9" and 165 lbs. I was a little bigger than Brandon, at 6'1" and 180 lbs, and I was starting on the varsity basketball team and a sprinter on the outdoor track team. We'd always been pretty popular with girls, but the quantity and quality of the girls that liked us was starting to shoot way up as we were coming into our own.
One day at around that time, we were leafing through one of my Penthouse magazines (I'd moved on from Playboy by then) and Brandon mentioned how one of the women looked a little bit like my mother. I shot him a quick look and I could tell that he was a little nervous when he brought it up, and while my initial reaction was being angry, I also was very surprised to feel a sense of pride as well. I didn't say anything for a while, but then I took the magazine from him, gave it a look and blurted out "well, they do look a little bit alike, but my mom's boobs are actually bigger."
That broke the awkwardness of the moment a little bit, and he asked me how I knew. I told him that because she was raised in France, where the concept of women being topless wasn't a big deal, she would sometimes walk out of the shower topless, or sunbathe by our pool without much on. While seeing this was normal for me, I knew that it wasn't typical in the households my friends were being raised in, and therefore it wasn't something that I'd ever told anyone else. I also kept this information to myself as my mom was getting to be a bigger topic of discussion among my friends than I cared for as it was. The "your mom is pretty" comments had turned into "hey, did you know your mom is hot?" and I didn't want to add fuel to the fire by saying "oh yeah, and she doesn't wear much around the house either!" With this being the case, I surprised myself with my reaction to what he said. I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that he was my best friend, and I knew he wouldn't tell anyone else. Nothing else was really said for a while, and we went back to talking about other things.
It shouldn't have come as much of a shock that Brandon viewed my mother sexually, especially given the nature of the outfits she'd wear around the house in the evenings. Although she was very practical in most ways, one thing she spoiled herself with was very nice lingerie. She had a thing for nightgowns in particular, and every night she'd put one on after taking her bath. Most of them were very soft and silky, but the ones she wore when it was just me and her were often very sheer. Whenever there was someone else over (Brandon, for instance), the outfits would be more conservative. Although these nighties weren't transparent, the thin layer of silk was never able to hide her nipples, which were always seemingly at attention - even when she was fully dressed. I don't think he realized it, but I always noticed him checking her out after she'd changed into a nightgown. If my mother was aware of it, she never let on.
One night when Brandon was staying over for the weekend, the three of us were having dinner together. It was typical for my mother to have a glass or two of wine every evening, and on occasion, she'd let me have some with dinner as well. I usually didn't care for any, but that night I asked her if it would be okay if I had some. She said that that wouldn't be fair to Brandon because she wasn't sure if his parents would allow it. She said that if he called them and got their approval, she'd allow the both of us to have a glass with dinner. Brandon got his dad on the phone, asked him about the wine, and when he appeared to be on the fence about it, Brandon handed the phone to my mom. As was often the case with my mother and men (and most women too, for that matter), it only took a few sentences and well-placed laughs for her to get her way. She hung up the phone, smiled, and told Brandon that his father had said it wouldn't be a problem at all.
After having just a few sips of the wine, I was feeling much more giggly than usual and the stupid jokes and stories that Brandon and I often shared with my mom somehow seemed especially funny. It was evident that Brandon was feeling the same way I was. After having finished his glass, Brandon looked at my mom and said "Mrs. B (her name is Brigitte), how come you're not wearing the nighties that you usually wear?" Although I'd been feeling pretty silly up to this time, I immediately wanted to hide under the table. When I worked up the nerve to look at my mom, I was astonished to see that she had a slight smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. She asked him why he was curious, and he boldly told her that he just thought that she looks very nice in them. Something inside of me (or perhaps it was the look on her face) made me blurt out "you should see the ones she wears when you're not over!"
Now, it wasn't very often that I saw my mother taken aback by something someone said, but she instantly became wide-eyed and her jaw dropped. The only thing that kept me from wanting to crawl under the table again was that it didn't take long for her dropped jaw to turn into a smile. Her smile gave me the confidence to continue on to say "the ones she wears when you're not around are usually much more see-through."
