My buddy Mike followed me into my apartment for one last brew before calling it a night. We were both a little unsteady, him more so, after hanging out at the bar unsuccessfully trying to score some tail. I went straight to the kitchen totally oblivious to anything around me in my quest for a couple of frosty ones. I should've paid more attention to my surroundings. I stepped back into the front room holding two long necks of Bud and stopped dead in my tracks, alarm bells blaring in my brain. He was standing by the couch with his eyes bugging out of his head, and he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that I've ever seen. Stepping over to him I absently handed over one of the beers while glancing down to see what he was staring at. There was no doubt in my mind that my eyes bugged out a little too. Sprawled out on the couch was my dear sweet, nearly naked, fifty-two year old Mother Betty Thomas-Freeman. Thomas was her maiden name.
"Damn it, not again," I muttered under my breath.
I knew right away what was going on. Once again she'd taken her Ambien and judging by the empty wine glass thought it wasn't working, so she'd added a little alcohol to speed up the process. She had done this before, but tonight was different. Tonight she was lying there on her back with her thin pink cotton housecoat on, the buttons down the front completely undone. Now I will admit that my Mom is no super model by any stretch of the imagination, but she is a very attractive woman in her own right. Like the rest of the women in her family she's tall, almost five-nine in her bare feet. She has shoulder length black hair with just a hint of grey in it. As Mike and I were discovering she also has a very nice figure; slender waist, wide soft hips and some fairly firm breasts that were well over a handful. They were capped with small dark brown areolas and nipples that stuck out so far they begged to be sucked. She had on a pair of white cotton panties that didn't quite hide the thick triangle of black pubic hair lurking underneath. Unable to control it I felt my dick start to swell in my pants.
"Dude, your Mom's totally wasted," Mike snickered before adding, "And fuckin hot too!"
"Watch your mouth fuck-nuts!" I snapped at him but didn't move to cover her up or anything.
"Be cool dude...I'm just saying is all," he replied never taking his eyes off her.
Snapping out of my trance I took his upper arm and told him it was time for him to go.
"Oh come on pal, can't we just look a little longer? She's so toasted she'll never know," he protested as I steered him to the door and practically threw him out into the hallway.
Since he lived right down the hall from me I wasn't worried if he'd get home okay. I was more worried about the erection growing in my pants as I went back over and stood looking down at Mom. "Damn, she is pretty hot," I told myself gazing down at her and sipping on the beer while my other hand absently rubbed the front of my jeans. She'd done this a couple of times now in the short week since her arrival, but she'd always been clothed. Tonight she was slumped on the couch almost obscenely with one arm flung above her head and the other one dangling over the side of it, her fingers still curled around the stem of the wine glass. I was amazed at how relaxed her face looked. As I stood there staring at her nakedness she groaned then spread her outer leg until the foot fell off the couch and landed on the floor. Her knee opened outward giving me an unobstructed view of her crotch. Tiny tufts of black hair curled out the leg openings of her panties. My cock continued to grow.
I have never seen my Mother naked before; sure, there were the times while I was growing up that I'd seen her in her bra and panties. But this, this was a whole other ball of wax altogether. I knew I should be feeling guilty and disgusted with myself for staring at her, but oddly I didn't. Instead I found myself more aroused than I'd ever been before. The very fact that the nearly naked lady on my couch was my own Mom somehow made it all the more intoxicating. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've had a fascination for Mom ever since I can remember. In my heart I was sure most guys did, to some degree at least. I just wasn't sure how far I would be willing to take mine. A tiny evil thought crept into the back of my mind as I tried to figure out what to do about this situation. Should I wake her and have her find out that I'd seen her half naked? Or should I just cover her up and go to bed? Or, I could do what I was doing right now and stand here leering at her while all eight inches of my cock crept down my pants leg. Like Mike had said, she'll never know. The evil little thought came up with something else all together.
Placing my beer on the end table I knelt down in front of the couch and studied her sleeping face. I wanted to be sure that she was really out before doing what my little head was telling me to do. Her breathing was regular and steady so I turned my attention to those quarter-inch nipples poking out. Leaning closer to the nearest one I blew a warm soft breeze over it. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination or not but it sure looked like it stiffened. I was sure however when I did it again and her areola crinkled pushing the nipple further out. The urge to suckle it was almost overpowering. I scooted back away not sure I could trust myself not to clamp my lips on the ripe nub. Another idea flashed through my head after I forced myself to stand. Sidestepping further down the front of the couch until I was even with her hips I leaned over placing my nose almost in her crotch. My legs grew weak as I inhaled her musky aroma. Reason and sanity flew out the window. Hesitantly I reached out and lightly placed the palm of my hand on her mound. I could feel her warmth flow into my hand and also the mass of her bush under the panties. Watching her face for any sign that she was waking up I slowly pushed my hand down until my fingers slid between her thighs. The feel of her pussy under my fingertips had me reeling with a desire so strong that I was afraid I might just rip her panties off and plunge my hard throbbing cock as far into her as I could. Fortunately for me she chose that moment to let out a soft moan. Yanking my hand off her sweet softness as if it were a branding iron I staggered back away from her and held my breath. The thought of my Mother waking up and catching me fondling her snapped me back to reality. I went and grabbed a blanket then carefully covered her up.
Normally, since I live in a one-bedroom apartment, I would have been the one sleeping on the couch. When she first arrived I had had a hard time convincing her that she should take the bed, but after a lot of hee-hawing she had finally agreed. Tonight I had no intentions of doing what I'd done the previous times she'd zonked out in the front room. There was no way that I was going to wake her and help her stagger to the bedroom. No way in hell was that happening, not with my cock in the state of arousal that it was in. On my way to the bedroom I made a quick, and I do mean quick, detour into the bathroom where I hosed the toilet bowl down with the biggest wad of spunk I'd ever shot. After stripping down to my boxers I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling with visions of Mom's mouth-watering nipples prancing around my brain. One more trip to the bathroom allowed me to finally drift off to dreamland.
When I woke the next morning I wasn't surprised to find my dick a little sore after the mauling I'd given it. After a stop in the bathroom, this time to relieve my bladder, I made my way to the small kitchen where the smell of coffee was coming from. Mom was standing at the sink rinsing a cup out still dressed in her pink robe. It was obvious by the way it hugged her hips and butt that it was fully buttoned, but that didn't stop me from visualizing the white cotton panties underneath. I had to remind myself to stop thinking like that since all I had on were my boxers. Stepping over beside her I ran my hand over her shoulder blades briefly and said good morning before pouring myself a cup.
"Good morning sweetie," she replied.
There was something in her voice that had me worried. I knew it wasn't because I was only wearing my underwear, she'd seen me dressed this way plenty of times. The thought that maybe she had been awake after all last night when I was taking liberties with her soared to the front of my brain. I dismissed that notion on the grounds that I was certain she would have jumped my shit the moment I'd walked into the kitchen. No, it wasn't that, but as she came over and sat down it was obvious she wanted to say something. I didn't have long to wait to find out what it was.
"Gary?"
"Yeah Mom?"
"I'm not sure how to ask this," she hesitantly whispered.
"What Mom?" I asked, dreading her answer.
"Well...when I woke up this morning the buttons on my robe were undone. Honey, did you undo them?" I could see an odd look in her soft brown eyes as she gazed at me waiting for an answer.
"No, they were that way when I got home," I stated flatly, dipping my eyes downward and feeling the heat rise on my face.
"But you did see me, uh...?" she asked without finishing.
"Uh huh," I whispered finally looking back up at her.
"God, I'm so embarrassed," she said bringing her hands up to hide her face.
"Don't be Mom."
"Well I am."
"As I said, don't be. But if it'll make you feel better I will tell you this. Whatever you're doing to stay in shape is definitely working," I chuckled.
"Gary Allen Thomas!" she gasped, her face flushing a nice pink color.
"I'm sorry Mom, but it's not my fault that you have such a nice figure," I teased her.
"Thanks, I guess. Just remember I am your mother, and a married woman to boot," she laughed.
Yeah, you're married alright, but for how much longer I wondered. That was the reason she was here in the first place. She told me her and my step-dad had gotten in a fight over something, she wouldn't elaborate about what, and she needed some time away from him. My biological father had split before I was born leaving Mom to raise me on her own. She'd done the best she could with what she had, which wasn't much most of the time. There had been a spattering of "Uncles" over the years that kept us fed but none lasted more than six months at a time. That ended after she met Jack Freeman when I was fifteen. He was eighteen years her senior but he treated her good and seemed to tolerate me more than the other men in her life had. They married shortly after meeting and were still married twelve years later. Until she'd showed up at my door I had been under the impression that everything between them was peachy.
Interrupting my thoughts she said, "Speaking of married, when are you going to settle down?"
"Just as soon as I find a woman as pretty as you Mom, so probably never," I answered.
"I'm flattered. But seriously, you're twenty-seven years old, it's time for you to settle down," she persisted.
"So what's the deal with you and Jack, the old guy run out of viagra?" I off-handedly remarked hoping to change the subject.
"That wasn't very nice baby. But if you must know, you're not too far off," she replied with a soft chuckle.
"Oh really? So what's the problem, one of you isn't putting out?" I teased.
"Gary!" she squealed.
"Come on Mom, we're both adults here. I'd tell you if I needed help in the boudoir."
"I don't need any help in the boudoir thank you kindly, my boudoir is just fine," she replied haughtily.
"Then what's the problem?"
"The problem is my boudoir hasn't seen any action in well over two years," she confided softly.
