I felt complete. Here I am sitting at my desk in my room, getting ready to start a gaming session that would probably consume most of my Friday night. This has been my routine for the last 2 months. I was more than okay with this. Normally my weekends would consist of going out with friends doing god knows what, with hopes at the back of my mind of meeting a nice girl that I could eventually fall in love with. Sounds simple right? If only it were so. At 24 years of age, I found myself worn down from my Monday-Friday job of repairing/maintaining medical equipment. By the time Friday rolled around, I looked forward to spending my evening in my room.
It was as if I settled down and entered a new stage of my life. I managed to keep my lean figure from highschool. I was by no means "jacked", but at the very least I stayed in shape by running a few times a week. Unlike my 26 year old brother Pete who was so consumed by weightlifting. It was as if it was the end of the world for him if he missed an evening of working out. Standing 2 inches taller than me at a height of 5'11" he felt that he was god's gift to the ladies.
It wasn't 20 minutes into my gaming session when I heard a faint knock at my bedroom door. "Hey Mike, what are you doing tonight?" my mother asked through the small opening she created by opening the door.
"The same as usual," I responded, insinuating to her that I would be spending most of my night on the computer.
"I have tickets to see a play they're putting on at the local theater at 8:00 pm. One of my friends canceled on me. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?" My mother had inquired.
I looked down at my phone to check the time. It was 6:04 pm. In my head I had already decided that I did not want to go with my mom on a Friday night to see a play that I probably have never heard of. I paused my game and turned my chair towards my door to face my mother. There she stood at the doorway. At the age of 52 years old, my mother Tracy still managed to look as beautiful as she always had. She has wonderful brown hair that drops just past her shoulders in length, though she often keeps her hair in a bun just as she has done tonight. Beautiful C-cup breasts, and an ass that would firmly hug most pairs of pants. My mother is wearing a t-shirt that dropped just below her waistline and a pair of black jeans that did little to hide her wonderfully shaped legs. She stands at a height of 5'5" and has maintained a great shape over the years.
Just as I was about to tell my mother that I'll have to pass on seeing the play, I felt a surge of guilt surge over me. She had a look of desperation. "How about Peter?" I asked in response.
"You know where he is," she retorted, implying that he was at the gym. Seconds later, against my better judgment, I gave in.
"Alright, we can go," I responded. My mother as a result produced a grin that traveled ear to ear.
"Great," she responded with excitement. "It is a more formal venue Mike, so make sure you put on a collared shirt and a nice pair of dress pants," my mother added.
"Alright," I responded, with an audible sigh. With that, my mother went to her room presumably to get ready.
We live in a three bedroom apartment that we moved into 4 years ago since my parents divorce. The divorce was a longtime coming. My parents often fought throughout my childhood and fell out of love early in my teenage years. My relationship with my father John is practically non-existent. Growing up my father showed no affection or care to me. I was not to his athletic standards, unlike my brother Pete. When our parents split, it was a very easy decision for me to live with my mother full time. Pete often goes to stay with my father a few nights a week at his two bedroom apartment in the city. Whereas I have not visited once.
Approximately one hour has passed by until I heard my mother call out "Mike, are you ready?" she asked from the hallway just outside my room.
"Yes," I answered, and with that I took that as a cue to power down my computer and exit my room. When I exited my room my jaw dropped. I was greeted at my door by my mother. She looked absolutely stunning. She was wearing a black dress that rested just above her knees. Her hair was once again in a bun. The top of the dress revealed a small portion of cleavage that you could easily get lost in. Even her perfume was pleasantly intoxicating. All I could think was, my dad was a moron for letting her go.
I think my mom could sense that I let my stare linger too long. "Is everything okay? Do I look okay?" my mom asked.
"You look beautiful mom," I quickly responded.
"You're not too bad yourself handsome," she responded with a smile on her face. In addition, she raised her arm towards me signaling to lock arms. We did just that and left the apartment.
"It's a nice night, we should walk to the theater, it would only take about 15 minutes," she said just as we approached the ground floor.
"No problem," I replied. There would be no resistance from me. I was still mesmerized by my mothers appearance. This paired with the locking of arms began to cause a little bit of a stir up in my pants. I tried my best to shake that thought by reminding myself that this was my mother. Our walk to the theater consisted of talks about each other's work weeks. At the same time, my mother took it upon herself to inform me of the type of play that we would be seeing.