Mom and Dad knew it had to be a special occasion for me to request a visit. Not that I disliked them or anything, it just wasn't something I was prone to do. As someone in their mid-20s, everyday life with job, wife, etc., not to mention they didn't just live around the block, made it impractical. But there was a specific reason for the request. When I suggested I'd like to visit, Mom got all excited her baby boy would be coming to visit and said she would make my favorite dish for dinner. Of course, she asked if my wife Jenny would be joining me, to which I replied she "was busy" and wouldn't be able to make it.
While Dad and I sat in the living room talking about sports, cars, and life in general, Mom was slaving away in the kitchen.
When there was a lull in the conversation, Dad finally asked, "So what's keeping Jenny so busy she couldn't take time to visit?"
I took a deep breath. "Yeah, about that..."
"Dinner's ready!" came the call from the kitchen.
Mom was already two glasses of wine in by the time we sat down at the table. Which was unusual. Mom wasn't a big drinker. I brushed it off as her thinking this was a special occasion and imbibing a bit.
I brought Mom up to speed on life events both past and present as we feasted on the meal. She had just poured her fifth glass of wine when she served dessert.
Dad finally asked, "So, what's going on? Why isn't Jenny here?"
"Oh! Is she pregnant?! She's got morning sickness and can't travel? Oh my goodness, I'm going to be a grandma! Isn't that exciting, Bob?! We're going to be grandparents?!"
"Sure, great," Dad grumbled. "I'm not even 50 yet. I'm not ready to be called 'grandpa' yet."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's pump the brakes here," I said. "No, it's nothing like that. To be honest, it's pretty much the exact opposite."
"Oh no! What's going on?" Mom asked.
"Well, she feels like we got married too young." Jenny and I were high school sweathearts. We got married right out of high school. "She feels like she missed out on all the 'fun' her friends had in college and what not. Now, since we've been talking about kids and stuff, and think it's freaking her out a little bit. So, anyway, she wants to do a trial separation." I could tell the news caught both of them by surprise. "I don't have anywhere else to go. At least for the short term. So, I was wondering..."
"You want to stay here?!" Mom asked with excitement.
"Well, yeah, if that's okay."
"Your room is just as you left it," Dad said flatly. "Your mother wouldn't allow me to touch it."
"I never like that girl anyway," Mom groused.
"Now, Mom, we're still married. I still want to work it out."
"Well..." She paused. "it'll be nice to have my baby home!"
Just then, Dad's phone binged. When he pulled it out of his pocket he said, "Oh damn. I almost forgot. I've, uh, I've got to run back to the, uh, office. There's something I need to do. So, if you'll excuse me, I've got to run."
Mom frowned and took another swig of her wine. "Mmmmm hmmmm, you do that. Run along to 'the office'. When do you think you'll be home?"
"As soon as I can."
While I helped Mom clean up, I asked her, "Does Dad go back to the office a lot? I don't remember him doing that before."
She grunted. "2-3 nights a week."
"Just a couple hours a night?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes he doesn't come home until the middle of the night. Sometimes not until the next morning." Another swig of wine.
"Really? Are they that busy?"
"Honey, I don't ask a lot of questions. I'm pretty sure I don't want to know the answers."
Is Dad following around on Mom?! I mean, why? She's a stone cold fox, even in her 40s!
She really was. Long blonde hair that flowed around a friendly, thin face and 38-24-35 curves. She could easily pass for my girlfriend instead of my mother. My friends used to make it very clear about what they'd like to do to and with her. I was always, like, "Dude, that's my Mom!" I never had any thoughts like "that", but I did understand just how fine she was the older I got.
I rubbed her back. "Well, I'm sure it's nothing."
She turned to me. "how about we change into our jammies and watch a movie together?!"
*****
20 minutes later I had changed into some gym shorts and had a DVD ready and waiting when she finally rounded the corner into the family room. And my eyes bugged out. She was wearing a teeny, tiny white bathrobe that looked like it must've been purchased in the junior's section at Kohl's. The front barely touched when wrapped around her luscious body, let alone closing. It did nothing to hold in the tan firm, tan 38 specials of hers. And the back didn't come close to covering her heart-shaped ass.
"Jesus, Mom!" I said as she walked by me on the couch and fell into the chair next to the couch, spilling some of her freshly topped off wine glass.
"What?" she giggled with a wide smiled.
"Go put some clothes on, for God's sake."
"I do have some clothes on!"
"Just barely." I paused. "You're drunk."
"I most certainly am not!" She opened and closed her robe. "Why? Does this bother you?"
"Well, Jesus, Mom. I mean, I can see...everything!"
She giggled again. "Awwwww, does seeing mommy's boobies and who ha bother my wittle baby boy?" she said in a baby voice.
"Well, yeah, kinda."
She waved at me and giggled. "Oh, stop it. You used to suck on these like there was no tomorrow."
"When I was a baby!"
"And I know this isn't the first va jay jay you've seen."
"But not my mother's!"
"Fine." She jumped out of the chair and threw the robe across the room. "How's that? Better?"
"Oh Christ, Mom!"
She cupped her breasts and jiggled them at me. "Okay, seriously. Who has better tits, me or Jenny?" Jenny was blessed in that area, as well.
"Oh, come on, Mom."
"No! Seriously! I want to know."
"Awww, fuck. Seriously?"
She continued to jiggle them. "Yes, seriously. Be honest!"
I could see in the state she was in she wasn't going to let this go. "Okay, fine." I studied the work of art before me. "Okay, let's see. Well, Jenny's are a little bigger than yours. I definitely like that. And really, firm, especially for their size. Mom, to be honest, yours sit up really, really well. A woman half your age would be happy to have their tits sit up straight like that."
She beamed. "Gee, thanks! I do have great tits."
"Yours are more symmetrical. Like, a perfect match. Jenny's, mmmmm, not so much. And her nipples are kind of off center. Yours are dead center. And her nipples are more like pimples when she's excited. Yours are nice and hard, something a guy can latch his lips onto or tweak a little, ya know? Most guys like that. So, if I had to be totally honest, I'd have to say you have better tits than Jenny."
She blushed. "Oh, you're just saying that. You have to say that, I'm your mother."
"No, seriously! You have great tits, Mom. All my friends think so." O
ops! Did I just say that out loud?
"Really? All your friends?!"
"Forget I said that."
"That's so sweet!"
Wow, she's hammered! "
Okay, what about my pussy? Who has the better pussy?" She began to pet her trimmed bush.
"Jesus, Mom."
"Seriously! Come on."
"Oh my God," I muttered under my breath.
"Is she shaved? Surely she's not shaved."