John couldn’t bring himself to speak as he stared at her; the idea that this gorgeous nymph of a woman before him was his mother brought up some very confusing feelings. His eyes drank in the smooth golden skin that was exposed by her skimpy attire; the feel of her heavy but firm breast in his hand, and the sight of her long bronzed new legs tangled with his was beginning to arouse him. His eyes moved up her body; she was as golden tanned as a Californian beach-bunny, her stomach was flat and softly muscular, and even the smile lines and light wrinkles of her face had completely vanished. Was this woman really his mother?
There was no denying it, despite the alterations to her body and face – the resemblance was still there even if she looked more like a 22 year old sex goddess than a 35 year old mother. The layers of cellulose and fat on her thighs and waist was gone, and though her hips were still enticingly round, her waist was narrow and John’s eyes worked their way up the trim hourglass figure back to the wholly robust swell of her generous cleavage. He couldn’t resist a single squeeze…
“Oh! John…” his mother gasped in surprise as he felt her nipple harden and protrude against the straining blouse. “Be gentle… you know how sensitive my breasts are!”
Her response to his impulsive action shocked him more than the surge of yearning that had flooded though him. She hadn’t screamed, scolded or even rebuffed him. Rather she had told him to be gentle… this new pornographic reality didn’t include any rejection or negative consequence to sexual advances. In its own twisted way it made perfect sense: no one in a porno ever got turned down, not unless it led to sex in the end anyway. John decided that this exciting new world was going to take some getting used to. A moaning sound brought him sharply out of his thoughtful reverie.
“Oh John sweetie… not here… not at the top… of the stairs…”
John looked at her wide-eyed; her pretty face was flushed and her breathing was coming in quick gasps. Only then did he realize that his forgotten hand, the one that had been resting between her thighs against the thin fabric of the tiny shorts, was slowly stroking her pelvic region. John always knew that when he daydreamed he often tapped his fingers but this was too much; he had been absent-mindedly stroking his mother’s womanhood! Her slender arms snaked themselves about his neck and she pulled him close to her moaning softly.
“Ooooo… I never knew… you had such a… way with your fingers!” She breathed huskily into his ear “but not here baby… stop and help me up… we can…”
Her voice trailed off into a moan of disappointment for John had already stopped the motions of his fingers, frozen in the realization of what was happening. The rules of this new world were affecting him too, the accidental and scandalizing position the two of them had collapsed in, his sudden impulse to squeeze her breast and the forgetful way he had just fondled her to gasping excitement… it was making him a little nervous. As long as he was in this pornographic reality was he going to keep blundering into sexual situations like this?
"I guess so," John thought to himself, and upon further deliberation, decided that he wasn’t completely displeased by the concept.
His mother had arched her back, pushing her great trembling melons towards him enticingly and gave him a coy playful look as one of her fingers ran down the front of his shirt towards his belt buckle.
“Well are we just going to sit here?” She asked with a hungry look. |