“Whoa!” her son says when Nathan comes early, arriving home unexpected. He stands transfixed when he sees what Mom is doing. She’s doing the unspeakable, the unthinkable, the unimaginable. Watching his mother, the unbelievable becomes believable. Nathan sees his mom and the impossible becomes possible. At the climax, he can’t take it anymore. For her son, the unreal has become Nathan’s reality.
~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
On this magical day, my mother was wearing an avocado-green halter-top that ended right below her breastbone with a wide thick strap necessary to hold her large breasts in. This surprised me because her midriff was exposed, which was something women did not do. Yet being in our house alone, she must have wanted to stay cool. I reveled at how my mom’s bare stomach was revealed. Her midsection, usually hidden from sight was on display. It was soft, supple and a silky pink. Below, she was wearing a muted-pink skirt. With the way she was positioned, her skirt had wantonly slid all the way up. Believing she was alone, she must not have cared so much was exposed. Her right leg bent at the knee, rested against the back of the sofa and her bare right foot was flat on the cushions. Her left leg also bent at the knee, rested on the sofa cushions. Her left foot pressed to her right foot to create a diamond shape that sucked my eyes up its peak.
There glowed my mom’s fully exposed panties! She was wearing nylon satin panties that were a shiny yellowish sand color. While I could faintly see the shadow that suggested the crack of her mighty ass, in the crotch was added material that prevented me from seeing anything I previously only saw in those forbidden girlie magazines. Still, this didn’t prevent me from becoming mesmerized. For seconds, I dumbly stood there in the middle of the doorway. Her turning the page freed me from my paralysis and I ducked back into the kitchen. In those few seconds, I had already gotten a raging boner. Now as I peeked around the edge of the doorjamb, my penis throbbed in excitement. The sight presented to me was almost overwhelming. I didn’t know what to fixate on, my mother’s large amble bosom and the massive cleavage her top showcased, her soft pillowy belly or her exposed panties. As if watching a horizontal tennis match, I tried to take it all in. My eyes danced up an’ down her amazing figure and I unconsciously started to touch myself. I think at first I just meant to shift but I started to stroke myself over my jeans. This doubled, tripled and then quadrupled the pleasure of enjoying the work of art I gazed upon.
Then, while I watched, the impossible happened.
Turning a page, my mother started to rub her boobs. At first, I thought she must be adjusting, like how us guys are always readjusting our equipment. Yet in astonishment, she continued to rub her right hand over an’ around her large breasts while she continued to read her magazine. Previously, I heard of certain women, wicked and depraved, touching themselves and even masturbating but always thought, No way would my mother do something as nasty as that.
And yet…
