When I was younger my mother used to change in front of me. This was obviously innocent. I was very close to her and often spent time in her room. She even used to ask me to unhook her bra sometimes when she couldn't reach behind her back. I did this until about I was ten. She never asked me to leave if she had to change, and I used to just go about my business as well, never feeling as if I had to leave or look away.
Then slowly my mother weaned me off this habit. And I didn't think too much of it. Heck, I didn't even find her attractive when I was a child. But as I started growing up, I started to recall some of those sessions in her bedroom. I remembered getting fascinated about her body - about how different it was from my own and how I wanted to examine it closely. I remembered sneaking peaks at her overgrown pubic hair sticking out from her vaginal area as I stared at her from the side. Now that I am starting to remember, she never really gave me a full frontal view. She was always turned either away from me or at an angle from me. I never really got to see her boobs that clearly either. I wasn't much interested in boobs then. I was just always amazed by the fact that she had hair around her crotch and she didn't have a penis sticking out of it like I did. I wondered what was hidden behind all that hair. This wasn't sexual, just childish curiosity.
My first summer returning from college, I found myself recalling more vividly the time with my mother in those intimate situations. My dad spent his days at work and my sister was taking summer classes at a local community college. So all day I had plenty of chances to get bored and muster up all kinds of thoughts to myself. I would watch my mother walk around tending to house chores and get flashbacks to the times I had seen her body and I wished I could get another peek at it.
My mom is in her mid-40s now. She has a nice petite body which is in surprisingly good shape given her age. Her B-cup tits are firm and still very noticeable. One thing worth knowing about my mother is that she is a happy-go-lucky kind of person. Mostly, she just goes about her business and pays little attention to her appearance.
She was especially affectionate to me that summer. Apparently she still thought I was 10 years old and couldn't handle being away on my own. She coddled me a lot, often volunteering to do my laundry and cook special dishes for me.
Like I mentioned above, my mom was carefree and outgoing. Though very traditional, she never wore a protective scarf around her neck like most Indian ladies do. Apparently, she also never really thought about the fact that her son was now a grown man.
As my mother walked around the house, her hourglass figure was enhanced by the tight long Indian top (kamiz) and lose Indian pajamas (shalwar) she used to wear. Since she never wore the neck scarf (dopatta) around the house, the shape of her boobs was very discernable. They just rose out of her chest and stared at me square in the eye. As I mentioned, it was summertime, so most of her kamiz-es (long Indian shirts) were of thin cotton material. This material hugged her skin and I could see every curve on her body.
Ogling at my mother made me feel embarrassed and dirty at times. I was still very close to her and looked up to her in many ways. She had raised me and my sister well.
But sometimes, I don't know why, I just wanted to be intimate with her again. I didn't necessarily want to have sex with her. I just wanted to be close to her. I don't know what it was. I guess I missed being a child. Maybe she was right. Maybe I wasn't yet mature enough to be on my own.
--
One Sunday afternoon, my sister and I were watching TV in the living room, when she stood up and headed to the bathroom. This bathroom was connected to the living room.
My sister didn't realize that my mom was in the shower. She just walked up to the bathroom door and opened it. The door flung open. I immediately froze sitting there with my mouth open staring at what was happening. I guess my mom had forgotten to lock the door.
A second later, my sister and I were staring at my mom -- dripping but naked. Between the two seconds that my sister immediately turned around and closed the door, I got a good look at my mom's body. She had soap on her face and her eyes were closed. I caught a nice glimpse of her plump boobs and tightly-wound body. Her lovely curves made a nice shape. I saw her cross her thighs as she yelled at my sister to close the door, which she did immediately.
My sister was now half laughing and half apologizing profusely.
My mom simply said "It's ok, I am sorry I forgot to lock the door."
My sister, who is younger than me, kept laughing. But I was turned on.
--
A few days later I happened to come home from hanging out early. As I walked in and settled down in the living room, another weird thing happened.
I saw my mother completely naked as she was coming out of the same bathroom. She was kind of hunched over as if she was carrying something heavy, but soon enough she spotted me. She gasped and ran back inside the bathroom.
"I am so sorry I didn't know you were home so early!" She called out as she ran inside the bathroom.
"It's ok." I replied. "What were you doing? Are you ok?"
"Yes. I just got done taking a shower, and I realized I forgot to bring my clothes with me, so I was going to quickly get them."
"Oh okay," I said, still a bit shocked at what had happened. I couldn't think straight. My eyes had gone straight to her hairy crotch and that patch of pubic hair was dancing around my eyes.
"Well... don't just stand there. Can you please get them for me?" She requested.
"OK. Which ones?" I asked, breaking out of my trance, trying to shake the image of her naked body.
"They are on my bed." She told me.
"Ok."
I went and got her long Indian top and lose bottoms from the bed.
"Here you go." I knocked on the bathroom door.
"Thanks," She said as she opened a little crevice, extended her arm and got the clothes from me.
"Okay," I said as I walked away.
I was horny as hell now. I think I might have seen the line of her pussy amidst the tuft of pubic hair which she had growing in her crotch. "Why doesn't she shave?" I thought to myself. I was asking myself this, and many other questions. They were silly questions really. Like I wondered how her crotch smelled. I fantasized about licking it one day. I also fantasized about biting her nipples. I was getting turned on by my own mother. I felt dirty. But I couldn't help it.
"God" I said to myself, frustrated. "Why does this keep happening?"
This was two days in a row that I had seen her buck naked. I was 19 for crying out loud. What was I supposed to do?
I went inside my room and masturbated.
--
As I mentioned, this was summer. My friends and I had planned a road trip up to Toronto one weekend. I had been gone for 3 days. Throughout this time, I had to regularly check in with my mom -- being as obsessed as she was with her kids, she got worried easily.
When I returned, her joy was a thing to be seen. As soon as I opened the front door and walked in to the house, she came running out of her bedroom.
She caught me in the foyer. Gasping with joy, she engulfed me in a tight embrace.
"Mom!" I said, laughing.
"Oh I am so glad you are here." She said and squeezed me tight.
She wasn't wearing the dopatta (Indian scarf) to cover her chest. Her B sized tits raised from her chest like little hills. She was wearing a padded bra. I felt her lobes of love get buried inside my chest as she squeezed me. I was taller than her. Her arms were wrapped around my chest.
