Artistic Photos of Mom
Our cast: Norma, the mother
Wilbur, her husband, semi-retired physician
Bobby, the 19 year-old son
Chapter 1
She was Bobby's mom. She was a hot-assed mom. Not your cookies and milk mom. And it distressed her to hear Bobby jerking off -- three or four times a day! What an awful waste of spunk!
She was married to Wilbur, a semi-retired family doctor. And if you really wanna know, he loved pussies. He was partial to hairy pussies because it was nature's way to get your attention. Maybe you could bounce a tennis ball off a bald pussy, but Wilbur was a doc from the old school. He loved massaging a mature woman's pussy lips and she'd sure moan and huff and squirm. All in the name of science.
Norma and Wilbur gave birth to a son. They named him Robert, for no special reason, and so they called him Bobby. We first meet Bobby in college , when he was 19. Bobby was handsome, even beautiful, and he wore his blond hair long. He had a baby face, an innocence that most men lack. If he wore a dress, he could pass for a girl. His skin was smooth, almost hairless, and his blue eyes had a way of flirting with you, even when he was serious.
He'd managed to finish his freshman year with decent grades, given that he jerked off 3-4 times a day. His shaft was large, almost like polished ivory when erect. His foreskin added to the thickness of his cock. And when he masturbated it made a gooshing sound like a dog lapping gravy. He liked women, not girls, but mature women in their 40's. There was something about a mature pussy -- the hairiness, the lips, the scent. He idolized his mother.
He hadn't seen his mother naked yet. Not that she was careful, because she wasn't. She made no effort to cover up when Bobby was around. She even asked him to do the snaps on her big reinforced bra. You see, her breasts were heavy and they had big red nipples. Unfortunately Bobby hadn't seen her fully naked boobs. After all, their home wasn't a strip club! There was no bump and grind in Norma's bedroom. She considered herself a lady.
Old Wilbur remembered his struggles with organic chemistry and almost failing the course because he spent so much time jerking off. Yes, Wilbur did graduate, and spent his years happily doing vaginal exams, and not getting arrested for doing stuff he shouldn't be doing. He married a woman who was very, very hairy and they gave birth to a son who grew up in the family tradition. His name was Robert, as mentioned above, and like his father, he was fixated on hairy pussies.
Wilbur's wife, Norma, was a lovely woman, the kind of female that served the role of mother, wife, and lover. She was medium height, with jet black hair, and a prominent bottom. Her eyes were soft, except when she was horny and then she'd weep a little because the throbbing in her sopping pussy made her crazy. She was slightly over 40, and her body was made for sex. Her needs were constant because her dildo was only temporary and it didn't speak. She needed soft words -- dirty words, lurid whisperings to heighten her arousal.
Bobby was a bright guy, but not highly motivated, and he took courses that they told him to take. In his sophomore year he took a course in art history and if you asked him what art history was all about, he had no idea except there were lots of naked chicks and he imagined the artist beating off while the model laid there and did what she needed to do -- look like she needed to get laid.
They lived in a nice home, in a upper middle class suburb of San Francisco. Wilbur was a respected member of the St Jude Episcopal church, and Bobby had belonged to the scout troop there when he was younger. But going camping, and going on bird study hikes wasn't half as much fun as looking up women's dresses, or having a date give you a blow job.
Chapter 2
Bobby sat on the commode in the plush upstairs bathroom; he was staring at a grainy color photograph of a nude woman in his left hand, and he was pumping his lubricated stalk in his right.
As he stared at the upper body picture of a curvy brunette with D-sized breasts, he slid his greasy fist slowly up and down his shaft while trying to imagine what it would be like to have this woman sitting across from him -- live! -- watching him jacking off. She wouldn't just be sitting there, would she? Maybe she'd spread her legs for him. Maybe finger her pouting slit and whisper sweet filth in his ears?
It so happened that this day, being Thursday, there was a bomb scare at the college. Classes were cancelled and a bomb squad arrived, armed to the teeth. Bobby was able to go home early. He had planned to use the time to study for a history exam, but when he got home he didn't see his mother's car in the driveway and figured she must be still at work. Thinking he had the house to himself, he hurried to the upstairs bathroom to relieve himself of the tingling in his balls that had been nagging him all morning.
His mother was not a philosopher. She felt the difference between good and evil was simple. If you felt happy when you did it, it must be good. If it give you a stomach ache it was evil. Since she was a liberal minded female, most of what she did to herself was good. She loved to play with her hairy privates, especially her over developed clit. She loved to look at herself in the mirror, admiring her heavy breasts and very thick nipples. And she loved shoving her fingers up her ass, to embellish the buzzing in her rectum when she had explosive orgasms.
She believed Bobby should have a healthy mind, and not be riddled with guilt about the human body. There was absolutely nothing wrong with allowing her son to watch her get dressed. Or sit on the hopper while she pissed.
As he was getting dressed for classes, he had passed down the hallway on his way to the bathroom when he happened to glance through the half-opened door of his parents' bedroom. He caught a glimpse of his mother, clad in only bra and panties and fixing her hair the mirror. Although the glance was only fleeting it was enough to set him on edge. Norma was a medium height woman whose most striking features were her long, thick black hair which cascaded down her back almost to her waist, her pear shaped ass, and her lush creamy white thighs.
He sat masturbating to the woman in the magazine. Not that the woman was nude, because she wasn't. It happened to be a woman's fitness magazine and the woman had muscular thighs and long legs. He imagined those thighs wrapped around his head and her calves pressing against his ears. She had legs like his mother.
He was taken completely by surprise when the bathroom door suddenly opened and there stood his mother staring in amazement at him. She remained frozen in the doorway with one hand on the doorknob and the other on the jamb for what seemed an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, her gaze alternating up and down between his eyes and what was dangling heavily between his legs.
Just as suddenly as she had appeared, she whispered, "Excuse me, I'm sorry," and was gone, softly pulling the door closed behind her. But it was too late. The damage had been done; he'd been caught!
"God -- what's going to happen now," he worried as his cock slowly began to deflate. His libido deflating as well, Bobby decided he had better get cleaned up and try to get back to his books.
And then he remembered that early that morning his mother had hastily told him on her way out to work that she was leaving work early to take the car for a checkup. She would get a ride home from there. He realized then that she must have been home the entire time even though he hadn't seen or heard her.
Just as he put the magazine on the floor and was ready to get a face cloth to clean himself off he heard a soft rapping at the door. The door opened a crack and his mother stuck her head inside and said, "Is it alright if I come in, Bobby? Please let me come in."
"Gee, mom, I'll be out in just a second. Can't you wait?"
"I need to talk to you -- right now," she said as the door opened wider and she entered.
When she was fully inside, she gently closed the door and turned toward her son who was still seated on the toilet with his pants around his ankles. Looking down on his upturned face she said, "I'm really sorry to disturb you, but I've been wanting to talk to you about this for quite some time now. Do you mind?" She was wearing an old house dress that buttoned up the front , and was cut well above her knees.
"Talk about what, mom?"
"This. You know -- what you're doing. Masturbating."
"Aw, Christ, mom ... "
"It's OK, Bobby. Look - I've been meaning to bring the subject up ever since I talked to your father about it, but he just shrugs it off and refuses to discuss it. I'm a little curious about your jerking off -- I'm your mother, you know ... Can you and I just discuss it?"
"Can I, uh, get dressed first?" Bobby asked, feeling a little embarrassed sitting half naked in front of his mother even though his erection had subsided.
"Well ... I thought maybe you'd like to ... finish what you'd started -- before I so rudely interrupted you."
