Rob, in his bedroom, sat at the computer desk staring at the computer screen. The Tonight Show had just started on the muted TV. He was alone in the apartment.
Divorce from his father, his mother, Bonnie, went out once a month slumming, drinking and searching for a little TLC. It was almost a ritual with her. A realtor, she normally wore pantsuits, but once a month she dressed to the nines to attract the beneficiary of her feminine charms.
With his door open, Rob heard the entrance door unlock and open. He listened as his mother climbed the 16 stairs to their expansive apartment, originally the second floor of the large brick home.
The sound of her irregular footsteps, it was "her night out" and undoubtedly she was wearing high heels, told him what he had come to expect on such nights, that she was somewhat intoxicated, if not sloppy drunk.
She was early tonight, most times coming in around 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning.
At 49, Bonnie was not physically unattractive at 5'9", 141lbs., straight blonde hair to her shoulders and brown eyes, but she did not have the face to go along with her fit, satisfactory proportioned frame. Knowing that her face was plain, if not homely, she felt herself not so desirable and used her female attributes to even the odds
Reaching the top of the landing, Bonnie saw her son's door mostly open and a soft light, probably from the TV, told her that he was still awake. She walked to the door and looked in. She saw him sitting at the computer and took note of the TV.
"You still up?" She queried, ignoring the obvious.
"Afraid so! I've been trying to finish this Grant paper. I read, reread and read it again, but every time I print it out I find unreadable text. It's not a clear mistake it is just jumbled letters. It's pissing me off! I turn this thing in and people will think I'm an idiot. It would be nice if I could sign this thing "anonymous", but then I would look like a coward."
Then, "you're home early tonight?" He queried, too, not mentioning the obvious, that she had had plenty of time to get soused. "I just finished having some pizza. I did not expect to home so early."
She walked into the room.
Rob appraised his mother's attire; a straight mature skirt of tweed colored wool, black heels and skin colored nylon hose, a heavy cotton, bright red sweater that made her breast a prominent feature and large gold colored earrings. Her makeup was heavy and her lipstick two shades darker than the sweater.
To Rob, she looked like a typical streetwalker in an upscale New York City setting!
"Friday night is not a weeknight, silly?" She retorted. "But I won't deny that the local bars or slow as hell tonight."
Rob thought, 'you mean the 4 bars within walking distance. Surely, over the years you have fucked every man that haunts those places. If you only knew there was no need to demean yourself, I would be more than happy to take care of your itch.
She walked over to the window. "And, if you haven't noticed, it's beginning to snow. I almost busted my ass getting up the walk!"
"The weatherman is right for a change!"
Bonnie walked out of her son's small bedroom. She did not say good night, telling Rob she had not planned on going to bed quite yet. He saw the kitchen light come on. Rising from the office chair, wearing only briefs, not uncommon around his mother, he walked to the kitchen. He found his mother at the sink pouring another drink.
She turned around, resting her weight against the sink, and crossed her right foot over her left and took a sip of the dark liquid as she looked at her son.
"Why aren't you out with – what's her name?"
"Taylor! Her name is Taylor." Rob said. "We are having a slight disagreement at present."
"What! She not putting out?" Bonnie teased, always looking for a good rib shot.
Not to be one upped by her sarcasm, Rob shot back. "Are you padding your bra?"
"How about, I knock you on your skinny ass!"
"I'm just saying that you must be padding your bra to get that second look, that, or, the tightness of the sweater you have on, or, the color of the sweater is causing an illusion. Maybe it's the light?" He taunted with a continued teasing tone. "I don't think their real!"
"Come over here." She directed.
Rob closed the 10 or 12 feet to stand in front of his mother. He had a skeptical look on his cocked-to-the-right face that relayed, "I don't care what you say, you're doing something!"
"Go ahead." She directed, the amount of alcohol in her system definitely having an effect on her discretion. "Touch them!"
Rob straightened his head up, his eyebrows lifted and his expression changed to "make that offer again!"
"Go ahead!" She repeated. "This lady doesn't have to pad anything! Come on smart ass!"
Rob reached with his right hand to cup and softly fondle and squeeze her left breast.
It's a new support bra I purchased the other day. Caused you, and a few others, to take notice!"
"I don't know, mom, I still seem to feel a little bit of padding." He continued to rib his mother. He found it quite funny that his mother had had enough to drink to cause her to let him squeeze her breasts. He was wondering how far he could push her.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" She exclaimed, as she pulled the sweater up and over her head, leaving her blonde hair in disarray. She reached to the middle of the bra and unhooked the clip. "Here, look at the damned thing!" She commanded, as she pulled the shoulder straps down and handed him the bra.
He went through the motions of turning the bra this way and that. A big grin beamed on his face as he handed the bra back to her.
Bonnie shook her head knowingly. She had been had. But she was not one to be bested.
Inwardly, a "let's see how big your balls are!" smile was hidden.
"So, you tricked your half drunk Mama into showing her tits!" She said with a slight slur. "What do you think of them? You want to touch the real deal to put your mind at ease? To make sure they haven't had any cosmetic work? "
Rob's grin disappeared. His eyes went from his mother's "come on big boy I don't think you have the nerve!" expression to her grapefruit size, perky breasts with raisin sized nipples, standing firm undoubtedly from the coldness of the apartment.
Rob was torn by the thought of letting his mother stare him down and the desire to actually touch the alluring and forbidden breasts. Then he realized that there was no downside. He reached with both hands to cup his mother's breasts, palming them upward and jiggling them ever so slightly.
Bonnie looked down at her son's hands fondling her breasts. 'He is a man, you dumb ass!' She thought, knowing she had lost again. She felt the warmth of his hands and felt a warm feeling flow over her. 'Don't let him do that!' her mind shouted as she watched and felt his thumbs stroke her nipples. She did not stop him
As her son continued stroking her nipples, Bonnie threw her head back and took another drink of the dark liquid, leaving an inch in the class. 'This is not going well.' She thought. 'Maybe I should have let Durban buy me that drink after all.'
"They're very nice and smooth." She heard her son say. "But you hear that all the time, I suppose." The implication her son had made would have stung under normal circumstances.
"It's a tossup between them and my legs." She offered, regretting the vein statement and unconsciously affirming her son's prior insult, that she was a middle-aged slut. "I wished you would stop that! You're giving me a hot flash."
"You're always wearing pants. I can't remember the last time I saw your legs." Rob offered.
Without asking him to step back to make a better appraisal, she set the class on the counter and used both hands to gather up her skirt, bringing the hem halfway up her thighs.
More or less afraid to take his hands from her breast, Rob took a small step back and looked at his mother's legs. They were indeed as silky smooth and milky white as her breasts.
"You know what's interesting about a woman's legs?" He quizzed.
"What is interesting about a woman's legs?" She bit.
"They run all the way up to your ass." He chuckled, not noticing that he neglected to say the proper word "their" and instead injected the word "your".
"They do! I can attest to that." She exclaimed, also missing the exchange of words. "They run from way down there all the way up to my ass."
Letting her skirt fall, she reached for her glass and took the last of the dark liquid into her mouth. She made a slight face as she swallowed the burning liquid.
It seemed the warmth of the apartment, compared with the cold outside, was intensifying the effect the alcohol was having on Bonnie.
Her eyelids fluttered as she looked down at her son taking her left nipple into his mouth.
Involuntarily she moaned.
"You're taking illicit liberties with your mother's boobs!" She muttered. "I've asked you to stop! Please! Don't do that! Damn, that feels good!"
As Rob suckled at her tit, he made a conscious decision to push the envelope, to see just how far he could get with his mother.
He reached to her left hip and fumbled with the button on the skirt. Finally, getting it unbutton, he fumbled with the zipper. Pulling the zipper down, the skirt fell easily off her hips.
"You are a very skeptical man." She muttered, patting him lightly on top of the head. "You're not going to be satisfied until you prove that my legs run all the way up to my ass. Go ahead! I'm not going to stop you! But they do. They do."
Robbie released her nipple and concentrated on pulling the nylons over her hips and down her legs.
Bonnie tried to lift her legs to rid herself of the stockings but she almost tumbled and ended up facing the sink, steadying herself with both hands on the counter and lifting one foot at a time as Rob squatted to pull them off her feet.
