My name is Steve and I am of 19 years. I stand 5'11" above the ground and have a good built, however not of a footballer. Most people enjoy my company and I get around well with both, boys and girls. My parents broke up when I was 12 and my father sent me to a hostel. I studied there for 4 years after which I again started living with my father. Our relationship developed into a mature one and I started looking forward to him not only as a father but also as a friend and a guide.
Three months back my father married a girl Betty. I say girl because she was just 24 and looked even younger than that. She was very short and had a petite frame. At 5'3" she still looked like another high school student and could easily pass as one. But only a few days after the marriage, my father was promoted and had to immediately leave for Britain.
I felt sad as my father caught his flight, but my animal instincts made me feel gleeful at the prospect of being alone with my new mom. My mom was a very naΓ―ve and looked after me as her real son, unaware of my feelings towards her. I saw that she was still raw and youthful. I knew that though she was still a child, but was sure I wouldn't be able to get to fuck her easily. Hence, I decided to play with her and later trick her into the bed. I hadn't formulated any proper strategy of how I was going to do this, hence decided to follow my instincts.
We had just returned from the airfield, when my mother suddenly burst out crying. She fell into my arms weeping on my shoulders. Pulling her closer to myself I started caressing her back and found she was without any bra. "Calm down mom, its part of life. I now you must be sad but still you've got me." As I said this, I gripped her tightly pushing her boobs against my chest. I felt them rising as she breathed. My eyes were transfixed on her cleavage, out of which the tops of her breasts were plainly visible.
She stopped crying and washed here face. Her expressions made it apparent that she was embarrassed. Bringing her ass near me she mumbled a sorry. Holding her hand, I said, " Come on, after all you are my mother." A nineteen year old with a mother of twenty-four who could comfortably pass as his date, I thought to myself. "Why don't you go to your room, let me fix today's dinner." I asked her aloud. Nodding she went to her room.