My name is Greg, I'm 33 years old, about 5'10, pretty good looking, even if I do say so myself, developing a bit of a 'dad bod' after the recent lockdown, nothing major, but could probably do with fishing out that gym membership I left to die at the bottom of my wallet! I'm recently single, my last girlfriend, Izzy dumped me the classic way, she let me catch her fucking some other guy in our bed, so that was a fun build up to a weekend! I was heartbroken and went home to see my mum. She was great with it and genuinely made me feel so much better about everything, I stayed over in my old room and left the next morning feeling a thousand per cent better. My mum has that effect on me, she truly is an angel sent from heaven!
A bit about my mum - her name is Astria, (I know! Grandma and grandpa were a bit hippy dippy!) but everyone calls her Bunny. She is 51, just over 5 foot tall, with short bobbed blonde hair and she's an absolute knockout, and I'm not just saying that, she is beautiful inside and out, with piercing blue eyes and a smile that is genuine and would melt any man's heart. She is the epitome of the MILF next door, homely, but sexy with it. She has an amazing figure and doesn't look a day over 40. In my opinion, she is the perfect mould for the dream woman, not fat, not skinny, a nice peachy bum and perfect breasts for her size, but then, maybe I'm biased?! She takes good care of herself, with what she eats and making sure to exercise, even if it's just walking to the shops, where most people would pack up the car and stuff the family in the back for a road trip to the neighbours house, 25 yards away!
Growing up, most of my friends called her a MILF, which at the time genuinely annoyed me, but honestly, now, I'm proud. I love being out with her, she only looks a few years older than me and most people mistake her for my girlfriend, which we both find amusing but she is always quick to correct anyone who says it, which is usually bar staff and waiters, then we have a good laugh about it with them and honestly, you'd be surprised how many times it happens!
So, to my story. It was a bright Saturday morning, I had slept in, it was nearly 11. I was just sitting down for a cuppa, when my phone rang. I picked up on the second ring to the melodic, sing song tones of my mother. Dad had let her down, AGAIN, promised to take her out tonight, but had just had to bail because of some important client, requiring him to work today and go out for drinks later, translated as: to a strip club, instead of taking mum out he cancelled on her and was, as we spoke, on his way to work.
'I've had enough of him, he always puts work first, so I'm putting me first, for a change, so, with that in mind, what you up to today? fancy taking your old mum out to lunch? I fancy a drink!'
'Mum, you're not old! I wish you'd stop saying that! You're only as old as the man you feel!' She laughed down the phone,
'Well, today I want to feel 33 again!' She giggled at her joke and even though I was miles away and no one was around, I could actually feel myself blushing!
'Mum! Stop it, you're incorrigible!' She was! She had a devilish sense of humour and it's probably the reason we got on so well and were like best friends, telling each other everything, well, almost everything, but we'll get to that!
'Sure, I'd love to take you to lunch, I'll jump in the shower and come round about half 12, is that good?'
'Perfect baby boy, it's a date!' We said our goodbyes and hung up.
I sat there for a moment, thinking about the call, especially the last sentence, 'it's a date'. It echoed around my brain, she'd never said anything like it before, I'm sure I was overthinking it, but here's my problem. You know I said we told each other everything? Well, technically that's not true. I'd had a tiny. incy wincy bit of a crush on my mum for as long as I can remember. When my mates used to call her a MILF, I got mad because I imagined they would all like to take advantage of my mother and do things to her I definitely wouldn't approve of. Of course I know it was all big talk from them and they would never dream of saying, never mind DOING anything about it with her, but as a young teen, I discovered I was jealous. I was jealous of my friends, because, even as remote a possibility as it was, the stars would have to do some SERIOUS aligning for anything to happen with any of the idiots I called friends, there was still the tiniest of possibilities and yet with me, who, at the time, pretty much had 24/7 access, nothing would EVER happen, no matter how many billions of stars lined up perfectly, she was my mother and I was her son and never the twain shall meet.
I understood this and for the most part buried my feelings. But that didn't stop me subtly ogling her on family vacations as she sashayed along a beach in a small, but relatively conservative, 2 piece or hiding behind the curtain in the spare bedroom and rubbing myself when, on a rare hot day in England, she sunbathed in the back garden, there was even one time, she must have been feeling adventurous and not realising I was in the house, she sunbathed topless! I painted the curtains that afternoon and spent more time trying to get the stains out and the smell, before mum realised. I think I managed it, as she never said anything and I'm pretty sure I did a good job of clearing up after myself!
As I grew older, I progressed to raiding the laundry hamper on occasion. I would take her knickers to my room and hold them to my face taking deep breaths, inhaling her sweet scent and then finally doing the unthinkable. masturbating with them in my fist and using them to finish into. I would always bury them back in the middle of laundry so she wouldn't discover them, I was pretty good at hiding my tracks!
So as you can see, my whole life I wished we lived in an alternate universe where it was ok for sons to date their mothers and fall in love in a society that welcomed the union, rather than this reality where we'd have furniture thrown at us and a special bulletin as a final story on the news!
I had felt the pangs for years, but in the pit of my stomach some weird juju was building. I thought a cold shower might help, so I finished my tea and jumped into the shower stall, only to give up on that idea about 6 seconds into my cold shower. I stood shivering outside of the stream waiting patiently, shivering until the hot water kicked in. That was better!
After showering and shaving, I spent 30 seconds picking an outfit. What? I'm a guy, I look good in everything I own, that's why I own it! I slapped on some aftershave, checked myself in the mirror and not knowing what I expected, as I always look this good, grabbed my keys and headed out the door.
It was nearly midday, so I'd be over at mum's with plenty of time to spare. I jumped in the car and drove over to pick up my beautiful lunch date, my mother.
Despite getting there about 10 minutes early, when I rang the doorbell, mum answered in only a few seconds and was ready to go. When I say 'ready to go', I mean, I actually stepped back with my mouth hanging open, gawping at her. She was an absolute knock out. She had done her hair in a side parting and she wore minimal make-up, mainly because she didn't need to, she was such a natural beauty, she had never needed to pile on the war paint, like most women did. She was wearing a figure hugging blue dress and let me tell you, it hugged her figure in all the right ways, her boobs were pushed together and heaving to be set free from the confines of the dress. She beamed when she saw my reaction and did a little twirl, giving me a view of the back side too. All my pent up teenage frustrations were beginning to boil to the surface.
'Mum, you look amazing,' I took her hand and held it out to her side. 'Is this new?' I said nodding towards her dress, I could barely take my eyes off her impressive tits.
