More than anticipated is how to summarize my Wednesday morning wakeup. To describe with a cliché, I could set my watch by using the sound of Dad leaving. Waiting for my sister to start her car so that I could get out of bed, my bedroom door then fully opened, and I was treated with the charming sight of my mom wearing a short, white slip. In full view, from what I determined as a firm fit, I could easily detect that the slip was not covering a bra and there were no panty lines. Mom had made sure that the bottom hem of the slip stopped where the brown hair of her V began. Even in photos I had seen in my buddies' magazines, I had never seen a pussy mound protrude like that of my mom's. She was not overweight then, and still not as I write this years later.
Surprised, I immediately asked the whereabouts of my sister. "Gone. Early," my mom quickly answered. Behind her in the hall sat one of the dinette chairs that we had used for the previous evening's meal. She reached around, positioned the chair, and sat legs crossed the way most women do when sitting.
"Out of bed and come over here." Still wearing my tighty-whities, the bulging of my cock gave the appearance of me wearing a jock cup. I took one step and my mom told me to stop.
"Off. Take'em off. I want to see," she insisted as if we were engaging in some type of formal inspection. In retrospect, I am sure that Mom did closely examine, but this was an examination that would end with satisfying consequences.
Without hesitating, as soon as the elastic waistband cleared the head of my cock, Mom uncrossed her legs and motioned with a curled finger for me to come closer. Two steps, maybe a yard or meter away from her, and she held her hand up for me to stop like we were playing some version of Simon Says. This was a game in which the rules were set by Mom, and to this point I excitedly concurred with her version of the game. With her same hand raised at eye level, now half-closed in a fist-like fashion, she made a slow, male masturbation movement.
"I'm not ready to fuck, yet," she whispered. Just show Mommy what you do in the mornings and watch me while you're doing it." Mom rarely used profanity or any words with sexual connotation, and the only time I had ever heard her say the word "fuck" was when she once ran our pesky dog out of her kitchen. Her statement about not being ready to fuck was understood but not without mild disappointment, yet this was still beginning to be fun. Standing there, looking directly at my mom's lovely body, I reached for my already-hard cock, softly gripped it, and began stroking.
