WARNING: This is Part 1 of a slow-burn series. It will involve romance, humor, voyeurism, drama, angst and redemption. It is NOT a rushed "porno plot" where people just look at genitalia and fuck each other. So, if this is not what you are looking for, consider yourself warned.
Part 1
My mom Jennifer, mother of three, was not exactly a supermodel at 48 years - she wasn't chubby but certainly carried some extra pounds, her dark hair had light bits of grey these days and her skin was starting to lose its youthfulness. But she wasn't a zero either - she was tall, with a lovely smile and naturally heavy breasts. While she was clearly past her prime, she was still above average for her age. If I was to compare her to the other moms at school, she's still Top 10 material, just not Top 3.
I had never seen her in a sexual light, even after turning 18, but I thought she was a beautiful lady and always hyped her up to make her feel better; she was my mom after all. I loved her more than anyone else, just not in THAT sense.
She was not insecure, but was understandably self-conscious these days that she was losing her looks as she aged. She had me at 30 after my two sisters, so she was older than most of the other moms of my classmates as well, which only fueled it. Her conservative dressing sense didn't help either, always wearing baggy and loose clothing.
My parents had been married for 28 years, and we were a really typical suburban family. My sisters were both out for college, the older one a postgrad and my second sister finishing her undergrad this year. Dad was a very successful dentist and the three of us lived in a big house, but he was a workaholic, travelling a lot to various clinics around the country. I knew mom wished he was home more often, so I always did my best to spend time with her and give some company, not wanting her to feel lonely. We had a fantastic relationship and I could always make her laugh. We often went on walks and outings together.
For her part, mom always doted on me, her only son. Even though there was no way to prove it, I always suspected that I was her favorite child. She frequently bragged to her friends about how proud she was of me, and how much she's going to miss me when I left for college next year. As excited as I was for Harvard, I couldn't help but feel the same way, that I would sorely miss my family, especially mom. My friends often joked that I was a momma's boy, but it was all in good fun. Besides, she was the sweetest and kindest woman I knew, why wouldn't I want to be a momma's boy?
----------------------------------------------
"Six." Mom smirked as we sat on the park bench together and a tall blonde dude walked past us a distance away.
"Come on mom, that guy looks ripped! You're not playing this game properly!"
She slapped my arm playfully, laughing. "Aesthetics are a matter of personal taste, mister!" she subtly pointed to a girl around my age jogging. "Your turn."
The girl was pretty hot, flat chested but really elegant in that Kaia Gerber way. She was wearing a sports bra and yoga pants, which showed off her toned midriff. "Wow, I'm gonna have to go with 9, that's a real babe!" I exhaled, my arm protectively around mom's waist.
"That high?"
"Well, someone has to start giving out high scores, you keep rating every guy here six or below."
"I'm more about the personality and charm, not the looks." She said with mock haughtiness, her eyes sparkling with humour. "Women don't just go for looks, we look for reliability, chivalry, loya..."
"Zzzzzzz booooring!" I interrupted, throwing my head back and pretending to be asleep as I snored loudly. "ZZZZZZZ..."
Mom burst out laughing and pushed me away "Kevin, you're too much!" and we both went into a giggling fit for a minute.
"I'm serious mom, you're the only 10 here, so you need to start being kinder to the guys." I said, watching her go a bit serious with surprise when I said that.
"I'm a not 10." She waved her hand dismissively, but I could tell from the light blush that she was flattered.
Even though my appreciation of mom's looks was purely platonic, I loved showering her with praise because I knew how empowered it made her feel, especially at her age. I often exaggerated and downright lied in my flattery, but it didn't matter to me as long as it made my beloved mother feel like a million dollars. Objectively, I'd rate her a solid 7.5, which was impressive for a lady pushing 50, but there's no way I'd ever let her know it was anything less than 10.
"Mom, of course you're a perfect 10, why are you always so unfair to yourself?" I asked, rubbing her back soothingly. "With your grace, your elegance, your natural beauty, no sane man would think you were less than that."
She bit her lip. "Darling, you're so sweet, but only I know what its like to be me. A woman knows when she is fading, not just from the mirror, but also from how other people treat her."
I couldn't help but feel a little sad. No matter how much I complimented her, she could obviously see the difference between how people saw her now and how they did when she was younger.
"Is it dad making you feel ugly like this?"
