Ever since I was 14 I knew my mom was desperate for me to turn 18 and move out. Our relationship was tense, to say the least. Since I turned 18 a few weeks ago tensions have been even higher. My chores have tripled and our fights have started turning into screaming matches.
When things were good, they were really good. Mom and I were like best friends, gossiping about who I liked and filling her in on my latest sexcapades. She loved hearing about them since she wasn't getting any action from my dad. Rather, she wasn't giving him much action either because I know he's made several passes at her. So has more than half the neighborhood, especially the young men. She was tan from head to toe of her 5'2" petite little frame. Her D cup breasts hung so lusciously and perfectly despite having nursed 8 kids. They still sat perfectly on her chest with her huge, gorgeous nipples, almost always erect. She was a hot little thing and she wore all the right clothes to show off her wide hips and huge breasts while she toiled away in the garden. But despite her being incredibly hot for an older mom, so was her temper. I could never quite tell what chore I wouldn't do perfectly, or how I would somehow mess up making the family dinner, but I somehow always warranted her wrath.
Screaming, throwing things, and reminding me that I'm a very bad girl.
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This afternoon Mom and I were out on the patio and discussing some of our favorite books while Mom was polishing off her second glass of wine. She loves to tell me about the latest smut she and her girlfriends are reading together and she's been really intrigued by younger men being into older women. She kept rambling about how she didn't think a young stud could be into old ladies like her and her friends, but her best friend Margaret has been getting railed by her son's college friends regularly. A few more drinks later had Mom admitting to me that sometimes she wears her tiniest shorts so that she can, "accidentally," flash company when she bends over for her gardening. I pretended to chastise her for being such a dirty old slut and joked that my dad would be so jealous if he knew. Then I told her about the new shy girl that I went on a date with and whose virginity I took in her back seat.
Later that evening I had offered to cook dinner. Mom was sloshed and I didn't want her stumbling around the kitchen to cook and accidentally get hurt. She was pretty clumsy and I've often had to help her up from a bad fall. I had made a delicious dinner of chicken and rice with peanut sauce drizzled over it with a side of broccoli. Mom looked at, smelled her plate, and remarked about how delicious it looked. She took a few bites and she seemed to like it. I served my siblings, cleaned up dinner, and then helped Mom put them to bed. Suddenly she was mad, talking about how I ruined dinner but that I'm lucky she didn't say anything until everyone was in bed. I felt horrible, having just wanted to help alleviate some of her stress. Knowing how drunk she was I suggested she lay down on the couch and close her eyes for a second. I promised to make her something better and she took the bait. She flopped down, arms and legs spread in every direction, and sighed heavily. Soon she was asleep, and that's when I noticed her tiny shorts. Rather, her vulva bulging out of the sides of her very tiny, very tight denim shorts.
