I noticed the smell of her sweet perfume. I saw how nice her blouses looked on her. How they d****d her breast. How her breast looked like two torpedos that I would like to press my lips to. Every night that week I masturbated to the thought of making out and having sex with her. Was I sick, or was this natural?It was a Friday night, my father was at the club and my brothers were in bed. My mother was in her night gown, sitting at the kitchen table. It was not a sexy night gown, but I was trying to picture how her body looked underneath it. My pants were beginning to bulge from my hardening cock, I did not want my mother to see the bulge, so I went into the bathroom. I closed the door, took down my pants and began to stroke my 6 1/2" cock. I was standing in front of the sink, daydreaming about my mother when I heard her voice."Are you allright?" she said, as she opened the door. I had forgotten to lock it. Her eyes got big as she looked down at my cock in my hand. She said, "sorry",. ‘I’ll be right down, Dee.’ A male voice i.e. Christian, called. I tossed my purse onto the table in the middle of the foyer and lifted my left foot up to start undoing my heel. A second pair of feet coming down the stairs surprised me and left it on. As I straighten a pair of hiking boots with a tall, dark, and handsome man came into a view followed by a small mousy looking woman in red tennis shoes. Now I don’t care who you are or how much you trust your man, when you come home, or wherever, and find him alone, even with a homely broad like this. You fall into some animalistic rage, or maybe a lesser more sensible variation of that. But, you’re never just curious, or contemplative, you’re ready to cut a bitch. Me? I did that rage thing. I was ready to beat Miss, overalls and ponytail with a rock. I sized her up. She was young, maybe three years my junior and pretty in a plain way. Upturned nose, average eyes, medium cheekbones, plump cheeks, little rounded chin. Something eased.
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