THE BREAK-IN, I WAS FORCED TO HAVE SEX WITH MY SON
My name is Marjorie Coleman. I'm 38-years-old and the mother of an 18-year-old very handsome and very athletic son. His name is Bradley. Of course, everyone calls him Brad. He is such a wonderful son that I often call him "my Brad or my Bradley."
Brad and I have always been close because he is an only child. It wasn't planned, it just turned out that way. Four years ago, my husband, Charles, was killed in an automobile accident on the expressway on his way home from work. He was 36, we had been married for 15 years. Bradley came along without planning during our first year of marriage and was 14 when his father died, so naturally, today he's 18.
It goes without saying, after Charles' death, Brad and I became much closer, he became the man of the house in so many ways. Even though he was young, he was my rock. I leaned on him for the courage I needed to get by each day after his father was killed.
Even before his father's death, Bradley didn't bring many friends over to the house. One day, after he'd turned 18, we were having the same conversation, and I asked him why. He told me that the guys in school were extremely immature and disrespectful of people, especially women.
I asked him if he could explain further. He said he didn't really want to. I persisted. Finally, he gave me the MILF answer. I didn't know what that was.
"What is a MILF," I asked.
"It's very disrespectful mom. I don't really want to tell you. But these days, guys like older women and the ones they like are usually mothers and they designate them as MILFs," Brad said.
"Well, what does it stand for," I insisted?
"I really don't want to say this to you mom, but since you insist, it stands for Mother I'd Like to Fuck," Brad said.
"WHAT?" I responded.
"I told you I didn't want to tell you, Mom! Those are the guys I don't bring home. The few that I do, aren't like that, at least they've never expressed anything verbally to me," I told her.
"OMG," she said, "I just can't imagine anything like that coming from a teenager about an adult mother."
The fact that these guys are like that isn't the only reason I don't bring them around, the other reason is that my mother is the perfect MILF to them. But I certainly am not about to tell her that.
My mother comes from great genealogical European stock. She's 5'6", has a face that is absolutely gorgeous with perfect skin and a full head of thick, brunette, shiny hair.
My dad really lucked out when he snagged my mother.
She's slender in build, but carries a set of 36C breasts, that, because of her slender build, are very pronounced. She's a perfect 37C-26-36. When she's dressed, there appears to be no sag to them. I have not seen them naked, so I cannot vouch for any unsupported sag.
She has a narrow waist and perfect hips with a nicely curved bottom that looks great in shorts or slacks. Her thighs, likewise are perfectly shaped and a perfect length to give her legs a long look. Her calves are also shaped perfectly, some muscle, but not too muscular.
Mom, like her friends, works out at the fitness center three to four times a week. She has her own trainer and nutritionist to ensure she stays fit and healthy. She wants to be sure I don't lose my mother in addition to my father.
Put mom in an evening gown that shows just the right amount of cleavage, with perfect earrings and necklace and four-inch heels, and she will stand out in a crowd like any hot movie actress. She really looks hot.
She also looks hot when she's in gym shoes, shorts and sport top. She looks good in a summer dress. No matter what my mom has on or doesn't have on, she looks fantastic and draws the eyes of all those around her.
And she is totally unaware of the attention she draws. That's what's terrific about her, she can't be conceited or anything like that, because she just doesn't realize how beautiful and sexy she is and how wonderful a person she is.
Everyone she meets just can't get over how sweet and loving a person she is. I said dad was really lucky to have met and married her. Well, I couldn't have picked a better mother either.
Brad and I have done many of the things together that a father and son might do. For example, I attended all of his high school sports events. I even took him shopping with me when his father would normally have accompanied me.
Brad and I have grown very close, because without a father, Brad needed me as much, if not more, than I needed him. We have great respect for one another. We cook together when time permits. He especially likes to do the grilling outside that his father used to do. He's become quite good at it. I've become very proud of him and really consider him the man of the house.
For some reason, when there is a movie in the theaters that he wants to see that isn't too far out, he asks me to go with him to see it rather than ask a buddy. He saves his buddies for the Sci/Fi and weird flicks. Sometimes, he even holds my hand in the theater when it's dark and he knows no one will see him. That sends goose bumps up and down my spine.
We often stream a flick on TV or rent one. We take turns choosing one on Friday night or movie night if he doesn't have sports, as we call it. I have a glass or two of wine, Brad will have his soda and I will make some buttered popcorn.
We sit close together on the sofa and enjoy the flick. Sometimes Brad gets what I consider too close to me, but I really am kind of glad he does. He is such a wonderful son, a handsome son and a real pleasure to be around. I am glad he isn't afraid to be close to his mother. He has never done anything to really upset me, he's never gotten into trouble in school or anywhere else.
All of this changed one summer night. What I'm about to tell you occurred during the summer just before Brad's freshman year of college.
It was Friday night, and we were having our usual Friday movie night. I had taken a bath and put on a pair of blue bikini panties, a pair of evening shorts and T-shirt without a bra, for some dumb reason. Ask any woman, however, and she'll tell you it's more comfortable to be around the house without a bra strapping your girlies in and strapping your sides and back tightly.
I thought the house was all locked up before we began the movie. However, there we were, comfortable together on the sofa, when all of a sudden a man appeared at the entrance to the living room wielding a gun in one hand. He was dressed in all black, including a hoodie and a face mask. All that was visible were his eyes. I have no idea how he gained entry to the house, as I thought I had locked up the house before we began our movie night.
Naturally I screamed. I have no idea what Brad did, as I was staring at the intruder and screaming. He yelled at us to turn off the TV, which Brad did. I was too nervous to think or do anything. I was in a panic and shaking. I couldn't believe this stranger had somehow broken into my house and was standing at the entrance to my living room all dressed in black, pointing a gun at us.
