(All the usual stuff regarding this being a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is a coincidence. The characters are completely imaginary and exist only on paper and of course in my head!)
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To say that my old man was a dick is an understatement. He was a tight-waisted, old prude who had the narrowest point of view of the world possible. He took no joy in life and didn't approve of anyone else having fun either. You can imagine he wasn't thrilled when his son turned out to be a long haired freak who loved motorcycles and had a penchant for getting into trouble. It should come as no surprise that he booted me out of the house the day I got out of high school.
I felt bad for Mom. She is as sweet and caring a person as anyone could hope to meet. She did everything she could to please the Old Man, but he never paid her a compliment, brought her flowers, and only took her out to eat if he was forced to entertain clients from his accounting firm. Mom always struck me as the beautiful flower left to fade on the vine. Still, Mom soldiered on, making the best life for us that she could. It broke her heart to see me leave home.
I ran wild for a while...bikes, partying and pussy were all I was interested in. For all my Old Man could've cared or known, I was dead. Mom stayed in touch; bailing me out of jail a few times and slipping me a few bucks now and then. When I was twenty-one, a buddy and I got a small loan and started a motorcycle repair shop. When I was twenty-three, I bought my partner out and opened a small Motorcycle dealership. At twenty-five I was employing seven people and making good money. At twenty-six, the Old Man died and as part of his last will and testament, I was banned from the funeral service. No matter, I drank a Jack Daniels toast and pissed on his grave afterwards.
At least now, Mom didn't have to sneak around to see her son and now I could visit her whenever I wanted. I worried about her. Mom didn't go out much and seemed a little lost in that big, old house. She reassured me she was fine. "I'm going to exercise class with Jane and Magella, and I'm taking pottery classes. I'm fine, honey."
I would tease her about dating again and Mom would blush. "I'm not interested in new men. The house does get lonely though." She often kidded me about settling down, getting married and making her a grandmother. I'd laugh and tell her she was the only woman in my life. Mom would blush and giggle and tell me I was the only man in her life too.
For my twenty-seventh birthday, I decided to bike down to a huge motorcycle rally in the Kentucky hills. I called Mom and told her I was going out of town, but that I'd swing by on my way out of town for a visit. "Oh, John...that sounds like fun. Maybe I should go with you," Mom said.
I guffawed and told Mom that, "Sure...but it's a pretty wild thing...lots of partying, drinking, loud music and...uh, other nasty stuff."
"Maybe, I'll surprise you, son," Mom replied. "I've lived a pretty tame life...maybe it's time I lived it up."
I laughed and told Mom I'd take her. I told her I'd pick her up the next morning at 8:00 A.M. sharp. Imagine my surprise when Mom called my bluff. I roared in on my chopper, expecting Mom to maybe have me breakfast waiting, but instead, she was waiting on the front porch steps holding a small backpack. She stood up and waved and came running down the walk while my eyes popped and my jaw hit the ground.
At the Old Man's command, Mom had always dressed conservatively. Matronly dresses and pantsuits were all she wore. Well, Mom wasn't wearing anything like that now! In fact, Mom was wearing less clothes than I'd ever seen before. My Mom was a forty-five year old knockout!
Mom's mousy, sandy colored hair was now bleach-blonde. Mom was wearing a halter top that appeared to be a couple of sizes too small. Hell, I'd always known Mom was a bosomy woman, but damn...Mom had some huge tits spilling out of that checkered red halter top that tied behind her neck! Mom's waist was bare with just the slightest roll of fat peeking over her blue jean cutoff shorts...cut short enough to reveal Mom's jiggling ass cheeks. Her shorts also showed off a pair of world class legs, curved and slightly muscled. I swear, my Mom had the sexiest legs...legs a showgirl would kill for!
"I, uh...I hope I'm dressed okay, John. I'm not sure what one wears to a biker rally. Mom giggled, clearly amused at my reaction. She pirouetted for me, tits jiggling, jean shorts looking painted on and who knew my Mom has such a sweet looking ass! "So, son, how do I look?"
I managed to get my tongue back in my mouth and reply, "Um...Mom, you look hot. I'm gonna need a baseball bat just to beat the guys off of you!" Mom beamed at my compliment.
I stowed away Mom's backpack and helped her climb on my bike. I felt my heart begin to race as Mom's thighs tightened around me and her huge...I mean HUGE, pillowing boobs pressed against my back. My mother left no doubt that she was all woman! She hugged herself tight against me as I roared off down the street.
As we rode south, I was a fountain of conflicting emotions. I love my Mom, but now I was physically responding to her body rubbing up against mine. I felt my cock growing and bulging out just scant inches from where Mom's fingers were interlaced as she wrapped her arms around my waist. When she would shift, I could feel her bullet like nipples poking through her halter top, dragging against my T-shirt. And both of us were flattered and amused when passing cars or people on the street would turn and stare or catcall or wolf whistle at Mom's skimpily dressed and sexy body. As I said, I love my Mom...always have, but I had never viewed her like I'd view as someone I'd like to bed.
We stopped for lunch at a little road side diner. After Mom dismounted, she inadvertently showed off her curvaceous body as she stretched like a cat to get the kinks out from the long ride...thrusting her heavy breasts upward and outward. For a second, I expected her halter top ties to simply snap!
"Hours on a bike can really hurt," I commented. "You feeling okay, Mom?"
"I'm fine, son. I like your bike...kinda thrilling to have all that vibrating power between your legs!" Mom winked at me and proceeded inside, making me wonder if she'd always swung her hips so sexily.
We chatted during lunch, mostly about Mom's makeover. "Well...I've been taking seriously what you said, John...about getting out and getting a new fella. I've been working hard to get in shape and I'm feeling pretty good about myself. Mom intentionally jiggled her breasts ever so slightly. "Can't do much about my big ol' boobs, so I might as well show them off." Mom winked again. "And how about you, son? You find a lady yet?"
I decided to tease right back. "Why bother? I always said you're the only gal in my life."
Mom licked her lips and flashed me an evil smile. "Better be careful...You might get what you ask for."
Our flirting broke up when our lunch was served. We both looked a little embarrassed and I felt more than a little turned on as well. I think Mom noticed that too. She gave my bulging crotch a long stare before we climb back on my chopper. When she wrapped her hands around my waist...they were placed lower...fluttering around my belt buckle. Her nipples seemed harder as well. I felt my cock throb as she breathed into my ear, "Thanks for bringing me along, sweetheart. I love you, son."
As we roared off, I shouted over the din of my bike, "I love you, too, Mom!"
Mid afternoon found us deep in the hills of Eastern Kentucky. I dropped our stuff off at a roadside inn I'd made reservations at earlier. Luckily, our room had double beds. We then rode on up to the rally.
Mom was agog at all the people. Maybe ten thousand bikers, biker babes, weekend warriors and other in general partiers were in attendance in a meadow on top of a hill. A southern rock band was kicking ass on the far side of the meadow. Food and drink vendors were scattered about as were picnic tables and grills. Lots of booze, pot and all the usual hell raising substances were about.
I parked my chopper and spread out a quilt for us to sit on. Mom was being ogled from every direction and I was getting complimented about "my old lady." "You are one lucky motherfucker, man!" a young man bellowed in my face, grinning drunkenly at Mom.
"Maybe we better pretend you're my girlfriend," I kidded Mom. "Unless you want to get hit on all weekend."
Mom kissed my cheek. "Ohhh, I wouldn't have to pretend very hard, son. I guess I'm your date!" She stared off at the stage. "Is that woman naked?" she asked.