Embracing The Milf Within

A new story... Or a new take on a very old one. Oedipus might find it interesting, and I hope you do, too.

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I looked at the display on my phone. It said one word.

Mom.

"Hey! I was just going to call you!" I laughed, answering it. Most of the time, that might be just a way to deflect guilt, but in this case, it was true.

"Well, let me hang up then! I don't want to miss your call!" she giggled, then went quiet. For a second, I thought she might have actually hung up, until I heard her snort, and laugh again. "Damn! I almost had you!"

"You did!" I nodded. "Hi Mom."

"Hello, darling," she replied. "So? Why were you calling?"

"You called me," I corrected her.

"True, but you said you were going to, so go ahead," she said softly. I knew from experience not to try and out-flank her.

"Okay," I smiled, knowing I'd never find out just why she called. "I was just wondering if you'd like some company for a few weeks this summer?"

"Hmmmm, well, let's see... I'll have to check my schedule," she bluffed. I could almost hear her smile. "Of course! I'd love to see you! It's been far too long since I saw my baby boy! When are you coming?"

"How does three weeks sound?" I asked. "I'm almost finished the project I'm on, and I could use a break when I'm done. I really need to just get away."

"Well, I have the perfect place for you to get away to," she bubbled. "Come home, here, and let Momma take care of you. I'm going to spoil my baby!"

"Now, Mom... don't fuss. I'm all grown up now. You don't need to go overboard," I suggested, knowing full well it would fall on deaf ears.

"Nonsense!" she giggled, brushing my words aside. "I have to clean your room! I've been meaning to have a little more work done. Paint, hedges, that sort of thing. No time like the present."

"Mom?" I interrupted her. "Please. Don't do all that on my account. I'm coming home to see you, not my room."

"Whatever you say, darling," she answered.

I knew there was nothing that would stop her from doing whatever she wanted to do. Especially from thousands of miles away. I gave her my flight information... yes, I was already booked. I knew she'd say yes. What mother wouldn't?

"Oooooooooo, I'm so excited!" she gasped. "I just can't wait to see you! I'll be at the airport to meet you! My baby's coming home!"

What can I say? She's my Mom, and she loves me. I love her, too. I only hoped she didn't overdo it.

***

My flight was delayed a few minutes, but other than that, was quite enjoyable. There was a slightly older couple sitting next to me, and they were happy to talk, but didn't impose on me. The wife was in the seat right beside me, and told me all about their kids, and the vacation they'd been on. I was more than willing to listen. It gave me an excuse to look at her.

I'd guess she was in her forties. Maybe older, if her husband was any indication. Anyway, she was one very attractive woman; blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, a pleasant personality, and a really nice pair, on display in the open neckline of her blouse. She laughed a lot, and her laughter set those boobs jiggling.

The only real indication of age was found on her face, where a few lines and tiny wrinkles contradicted her youthful personality and sexiness. Since her husband was content to sleep through most of the flight, Daphne, as we'd been introduced, turned to me to pass the time.

I have to admit, I began having very intimate thoughts about her, as we laughed and chatted. She had a flirtatious nature, and a habit of touching my arm while talking to me. I'm sure she saw the frequent glances that I cast down her blouse, admiring the creamy smooth curves of her full breasts. My fantasies wandered away with her to the restroom, where we'd satisfy each other's immediate physical needs in the cramped confines.

I was ears deep in her presumably very wet pussy when her words brought me back to reality. She was smiling at me, awaiting an answer to a question I hadn't heard. I could hardly tell her the reason; somehow, I didn't think she'd understand that I had mentally undressed her, and we were fucking each other madly in my mind.

"I'm sorry, I missed that," I smiled, gesturing to the constant drone of jet noise in the cabin.

"I said 'what is taking you east?'. I gather you live back where we started?" she repeated.

"Oh. Yes, I live out west," I nodded, still lost in her cleavage. "My Mom. That's what takes me east."

"Nothing serious, I hope," Daphne asked, her concern genuine, as she touched me again.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that," I shook my head, dismissing the thought. "Just visiting. I've got time, and I haven't seen her much lately. We talk all the time, but face to face, in person time, has been pretty short. It's been years, actually. I feel a bit guilty about that. I didn't mean to ignore her. Time just got away from me."

"I'm sure she knows that," she smiled. "We mothers have a sense. It is nice to hear from our kids, though. Makes us feel appreciated."

Oh great. Now I really felt guilty.

Not for my Mom; that guilt was being dealt with by this trip. This was different. By reminding me that she was someone's mother, too, she made me regret the lust I'd been feeling since we started talking. At least I wouldn't need to hide my bulging crotch with the pillow, anymore.

My Mom is a blonde, too. Not the platinum variety, but simply a dishwater blonde, kind of an average colour. 'Average' might get used to describe my Mother in many ways, but none of them should be seen as disparaging her. It was just a case of average, as opposed to exceptional.

She was slightly taller than average, but not tall. Dad was slightly shorter than average, so Mom almost never wore heels, at his insistence. She was maybe a little prettier than the average Mom, and a little bigger up top, but not overly so. She was always complaining about her weight, a bit more than average, but she wasn't fat. She was just average, but she was my Mom, and I loved her.

Dad? Well, he was pretty average, too, except he was a little below it. As I mentioned, he was short-ish. He also failed to measure up as a father, and as a husband. He cheated on Mom, more than once, and she still stood by him. Why? I may never know. He died in an accident, which might be seen as karmic retribution, since he was a bad driver as well.

At least he was insured, and Mom was financially stable, if not comfortable.

I heard the engines throttle back slightly, as we started our descent. Daphne elbowed her snoring husband, bringing him to life, and everyone prepared for landing, closing tray tables and fastening seatbelts. Daphne continued to read her book, spotlighted from above by the overhead light.

I swear, she must have known that the book wasn't the only thing being illuminated so perfectly by the small, intense reading light over her head. Add a little turbulence, and her jiggling boobs made that cleavage impossible to ignore. I didn't even try. I'd probably never see her again, anyway. Some moderate ogling seemed the least I could do.

A relatively smooth touchdown followed, and after taxiing to the terminal, everyone did what they always do at the end of the flight... stand up and wait impatiently while the jet way is maneuvered into place. I shook my head, and remained seated, casually watching as Daphne and her husband retrieved their belongings from the overhead bins.

Mmmmmm, those boobs, made more prominent by her reaching up high.

I saw the subtle smile at the corners of her mouth, knowing she was still attractive enough to get the attention of a younger man, such as myself. She didn't mind me watching, and even had one last flirty gift for me. As the passengers started to shuffle forward, she leaned over, and gave me a direct look down her blouse. Her bra cradled those soft globes, and showed me just a hint of areola.

"Enjoy your visit with your mother," she said softly in my ear. "it was nice talking to you, and passing the time together." She smiled, and joined her husband, leaving me to digest the lovely view burned into my memory.

I was among the last off the plane, and as I emerged from the gate, the crowd was quite thick, milling about without direction, as crowds tend to do. I cast a look around, hoping to see my Mother, who had said she'd meet me, but I didn't see a familiar face.

What I did see, through a crease in the crowd, was a great pair of legs, and a sexy, four-inch heel dangling off perfectly painted toes. Whomever the owner of the legs was, she was sitting, legs crossed, presumably waiting for her flight. The legs held my attention for some time, appearing and disappearing as the throng went by. I caught a flash of red hair through the crowd, as well, something I would normally have wanted to investigate further. I have a bit of a thing for redheads... but, I wasn't here to look for women.

Just one, actually. Mom. I pulled my phone out, and sent a text, while I walked slowly through the terminal.

I'm here.

I sent.

Where's a good place to meet?

I stopped in front of the large, lighted map of the airport, looking for a bar or restaurant that might be a good landmark.

I'm at the gate

, came the reply, seconds later.

I didn't see you. Lots of people. Thinning out now though.

Stay there. I'll come back

, I typed, and reversed direction, dragging my carry-on bag behind me. As I neared the waiting area, I started looking for her again, scanning the seated and standing gathering for a familiar blonde, and a familiar smile. I didn't see her.

Are you at the right gate? I don't see you

, I sent.

Well, I see you

, she sent back.

Tag! You're it!

Hide and seek? Really?

I asked.

Just seek. I'm not hiding

, she replied.

Fine,

I thought, beginning to walk among the formation of semi-comfortable chairs. I came around a corner and encountered those legs again, and the red hair above, but I was looking for a blonde, so I moved on without looking further.

Ooooo, so close!

my phone told me.

Turn around.

I looked up from the message, and turned. The redhead was smiling at me, legs crossed casually, phone in hand, finger poised over the screen.

That's no redhead... That's my Mom! Well, you know what I mean...

"Mom? Wow! You look great!" I gasped. As she stood up, I noticed another change, besides the hair colour. A change that became more obvious when she pounced, and hugged me.

"Jeremy! Welcome home, honey!" she giggled, wrapping her arms around my neck, and crushing me against a chest that seemed much fuller than I remembered her being. Much fuller. I wrapped my arms around her, and picked her up, causing a squeal of delight. She kicked her feet excitedly, sending her shoes flying. "I've missed you so much."

When I put her down, she ran her hands over her jacket and skirt, smoothing them in place. She needn't have, as her clothes were very form-fitting, and her form filled them nicely.

"What do you think?" she asked, posing for my inspection. She shifted from one pose to another, like a model.

My eyes started at the bottom, following her legs upward. Her calves were very toned and firm looking. The skirt, which hugged her hips and thighs, ended just above the knee, and showed how slim her lower half was. Above, the matching jacket completed her business suit, giving her a very sophisticated, professional look. The red hair looked good on her, as well.

Am I missing something? Ah, yes... Where did those come from? Sitting high and proud on her chest was a pair of boobs that would make a stripper proud. There's no way I missed those while growing up. They had to be a recent addition. They were covered by a chic, white blouse, buttoned to her throat.

"I, um, I love the hair," I smiled, "and you look great in that suit."

"That's it?" she giggled, unbuttoning the jacket, and striking a profile. "Nothing else?"

"Maybe we should have this conversation somewhere else," I offered, buying time to think.

Hey, Mom... really looove your new tits. Just how big are those puppies, anyway?

A tug from below rescued me, as a little boy, returning one of Mom's shoes, got her attention. Mom dropped quickly to one knee, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Thank you so much!" she smiled, hugging the child, and collecting her shoe. When she stood up, she turned to me. I had found the other shoe, behind me, and handed it to her. "Come here. You get another hug, too."

This time, she didn't leap on me, instead merely wrapping her arms around me and holding me against her. I felt that soft pressure again, and it felt good.

"You don't mind if I take you out for dinner, do you, honey?" she asked, sitting to put her sexy heels on again.

"Not at all," I smiled. "Airline food hardly qualifies as edible. I could eat."

"Good," she nodded, picking up her purse. "Let's go!"

We made small talk as we walked, and I tried not to fixate on the attractive bounce her steps induced in her breasts. We wound our way through the crowds, stopped at the baggage claim, and eventually found ourselves in the parkade. Mom extended her hand, and a car ahead beeped.

"Hey! What happened to the Buick?" I asked as we stopped behind the silver Lexus.

"I still have it," Mom smiled, opening the trunk with another button. "This is my company car. It's much nicer."

"Company car? I thought you were only working part time?" I asked.

"Yes, I was, but things changed," Mom said. "The man I was assisting got himself into a bit of hot water with management, and was asked to leave."

"They fired him?" I wondered.

"Something of an understatement, but yes," she replied. "I was asked to take his place. They wanted me pretty bad. Nice raise, and the car... It's actually been a lot of fun."

More things I didn't know about my mother. I knew she had a marketing degree from college. I knew she hadn't used that degree, marrying my father soon after graduating. I knew she had gone back to her maiden name after my father died, making it easier to use her degree, and I knew she had started part-time with a local company, selling advertising time on three local TV stations. I didn't know she'd become such a success at it.

The car was very comfortable, and again, we kept our topic of conversation light during the trip. Soon, we arrived at Laurent's, a very popular, very high-end restaurant it had never been my pleasure to frequent.

"Here? We're eating here?" I asked. "I hope you made a reservation."

"Just leave that to me," she smiled, pulling to a stop at the valet station. She tipped the mirror, checking to see she was presentable, and fluffing her hair. What she did next made me do a double-take. Before she opened the door, and stepped out... she popped the top three buttons on her blouse.

I'm sure the valet got quite an eyeful as he helped her out of the driver's door. Seconds later, she was on my arm again, and we were walking into the lobby.

"I've brought a few clients here for dinner," Mom said. "They can do me a favour in exchange. But just in case..." she giggled, popping another button, "... I'll break out the big guns!"

I stayed in the background, watching my mother flaunt her augmented assets in the maître de's face. His eyes lit up when she bent to get his attention. Her blouse was open to a point just below her boobs, so he was getting a view of her cleavage that might kill a lesser man. A brief conversation followed, during which, his eyes never left her chest. She smiled, and gestured me to follow.

"Works every time," she whispered, taking my arm again. We found ourselves seated in a relatively quiet part of the busy restaurant, and I sat across from Mom. Even from this angle, her tits were stunning, and a major distraction.

"Mom?" I asked. "Can you put those away?"

"What? These?" she smiled, hefting them in both hands, and showing me even more of the smooth, rounded curves for a few brief seconds. "No. I guarantee, we'll get much better service if I don't."

As if on cue, the waiter appeared out of the woodwork. He was extremely attentive, and conveniently placed himself over Mom's shoulder as he took our orders. He was quickly off to the kitchen, and Mom smiled at me.

"See? Told you so," she laughed. "I'm sorry if I'm a distraction, but it's become a favourite game of mine. You still haven't asked me about them. Is now a good time?"

Clearly, she wasn't going to just let it go. She wanted to explain the changes she'd made, no matter how embarrassing I found the conversation.

"Fine," I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes. "Gee, Mom. You look different. What did you do?"

"Oh. Try not to sound so interested, will you?" she chastised, crossing her arms angrily. "You haven't seen me in how long? My life has totally changed, and you act like you don't care." She looked away, upset.

Damn. I hate it when she's right. It was time for me to buck up, and remember it's not always about me.

"Mom?" I asked softly. "Please understand. It's not that I don't care. It's just a difficult subject for a boy to discuss with his mother. But you're right... We do have a lot to catch up on, and I can't pick and choose. Please. Tell me everything. I mean it. I love you, and I want to know."

"Thank you," she smiled, relaxing visibly. "You've grown into a fine young man. Your mother must have taught you well."

"Yes, she did," I smiled, reaching across to take her hand. "She's also very beautiful. Even more than I remember. There must be a story behind that."

"Yes, there is," she smiled. "It is rather personal. Are you sure you're ready?"

"No," I giggled, "but I'll survive. Tell me everything. Just be gentle, okay?"

"Of course, darling," she nodded.

The waiter was back, bringing drinks and bread, and getting another peek down my mother's blouse. I watched her pretend she didn't know her tits were so interesting. It really was a game for her. Once he was gone, she began her tale.

Ten years ago, I was home for Dad's funeral. I'd been home three times since, but those were mostly in the first five years. She'd been alone for too long, although I did find out she wasn't always alone. She'd had a few boyfriends, her own age or older. That had led her to a gym near her house, where she worked hard to lose some weight, and tone her body, with great success. Still, there was a problem with those last few pounds, and she used the services of a personal trainer to focus on those.

He was a muscular young guy, who, well, how do I put this? In addition to time in the gym, he apparently provided personal training of an extremely personal type. Still don't get it?

He fucked my Mom. Repeatedly, and very energetically.

"He called me his little MILF," Mom giggled. "I didn't even know what a MILF was. When he explained it, I wasn't sure if it was an insult or a compliment. I did know he made me feel very good in the bedroom, and we kept meeting for our workouts, both at the gym and at my home. That's when I found out her was doing the same with other women. I fired him."

"Good," I nodded, trying not to picture my mother in that situation. I had long known what a MILF was, and like most younger men, it was a favourite fantasy. I just never thought of MY mother as the 'M' in MILF.

Until now.

Mom continued.

"I started checking out more porn on the internet, and I found thousands of MILF videos!" she gasped. "Did you know they were so popular?"

"Um, yeah," I answered. "I've seen a few." It was only a lie of scale.

"Well, I hadn't," she smiled, "but I sure have now. God! They're so exciting! I just can't help picturing myself when I watch them!"

I was starting to regret asking her to tell me everything. I thought discussing her boobs was going to be the most sexual point of conversation. Now she was revealing her inner desires in a way I hadn't anticipated. My mother, the horny MILF, ready, willing and able to bed a young stud, for her own pleasure.