I met my girlfriend in my Junior year at Penn State. We were both Physical Education majors. But our relationship grew due to our mutual love of CrossFit. That's a specific type of training which really became popular a few years ago. It involves cardio, bodyweight exercises and Olympic-style weight lifting. In fact, my girlfriend and I competed together in a 'CrossFit Games' program on a specific sports-themed cable television network.
I graduated a semester earlier than my girlfriend. It was supposed to be a happy, exciting time for us. The night I graduated, I proposed to my girl and she accepted. We stayed up late that night dreaming of our future. We agreed, when she graduated in the spring, we would move to California. It was sort of the fitness capitol of the United States. To establish a life in that culture was a dream for both of us.
I took my new fiancée to my parents' home in New Jersey for Christmas. We were going to share our plans for marriage and moving out west. But when we arrived, there was a palatable air of gloom in the house. Before we could share our news, my father announced he and my mother were getting a divorce. Neither of them elaborated as to why. My mother wouldn't, or couldn't, say anything at all. I sensed she had been crying a lot over this development. She probably wouldn't have been able to keep it together if I had tried to press her for reasons.
Although we had planned to stay for a week, my girl and I only stayed one night. We were too excited about the developments in our own life to be in that house of gloom for the holidays. We drove back to Pennsylvania and managed to have a pleasant little Christmas together. Still, I couldn't stop thinking about my parents, specifically my mother. I wasn't worried about my father. He had a good paying executive position in a multi-national company. He had many friends as well. My mother, on the other hand, had never worked since she got married. Her 'friends' were really my father's friends with whom she was required to socialize. Now they were divorcing, I was sure they would all abandon her. I had a sad image of my mother, alone and feeling forsaken.
So when the New Year started, I began calling my mother twice a week. I was happy with the fact she got to keep the house and was receiving a livable alimony check each month. I didn't have any advice for her. I just called to be there, to be a friend. It was initially strange because our relationship had previously been that of a typical mother and son. We had always loved each other, but our roles were clearly defined. Now, she began opening up to me about things mothers don't typically share with their sons. Not sexual things but hopes, fears, regrets, reminisces of old loves, of my father when he was courting her. I could tell she loved our conversations. I was more than happy to be her sounding board.
She eventually confessed to why my father divorced her. It was your typical story of a successful man hitting a mid-life crisis. He apparently began an affair with a woman in his office 20 years his junior. My mother was willing to forgive him for love and the sake of the marriage. But he was compelled to chase his youth with this new relationship. My mother was heartbroken but surprisingly philosophical over everything. Her reaction was to overhaul of her own life. She wanted to get back into the shape she was 20 years ago when she had me. She asked me for diet and workout plans. Given that was my expertise, I complied. She also said she had a surprise for me next time I came to visit.
That visit came at the end of April. My girl was taking her final exams, so I thought I'd get out of the apartment and let her study in peace. I was really looking forward to seeing my mother in person. We had grown close over the last 4 months. Yes, my wife-to-be was my best friend. But my mom had become my co-best friend (Believe me, I would never admit that to my fiancée). I had plans to take her out. Maybe we could go to Atlantic City for the day. Like most people with my major, I made a few bucks on the side as a personal trainer. And as a very fit, I admit good looking, 21-year-old personal trainer, my female clients were very generous with their tips. My girlfriend believed I was totally faithful when I trained those women. All I'll say is, you don't make 200.00 an hour helping people do sit-ups.
I rang the doorbell to the home I grew up in. The door opened only a few inches. My mother's smiling eyes appeared.
"Hello, handsome! Are you ready for the surprise?"
I laughed and said, "Yes! Yes!" I had no idea what she was up to.
She announced, "Ta-da!" and swung open the door.
She had lost maybe 20 pounds. You could see it in her face. Not that she was overweight to begin with. But she had definitely tightened up the package. The SURPRISE, and man, was it ever, were her breasts. Specifically, her apparent boob job. Her boobs were amazing! The had to be a full d cup. And on her petite frame, they were the center of attraction. She was wearing a light blue v-neck tee shirt . Her nipples poked out a half inch, like fat thumbs. There was obviously no bra there. I know our relationship had evolved from that of parent and child to one of close friends. But this moment had me dumbstruck. She was mouth-watering delicious... but she was still my mother.
She stood in the doorway, her arms held open, exhibiting these new, magnificent additions.
"Well, what do you think?" she smiled. I think the fact my mouth was hanging open and my eyes were bugging out told her everything she needed to know. And she was apparently happy.
She stepped to me and gave me the most incredibly loving hug I've ever had.
"I'm so happy to see you." She purred.
After a good minute, she finally pulled away. Her unavoidable nipples were even more erect. She kissed me on the mouth, emphasizing her happiness at seeing me.
"Mom, your, uh, boobs are amazing!" I managed to sputter.
She looked down at them, grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled down. This exposed even more cleavage. She pulled within a millimeter of her areolas. She was proud of her new titties. And apparently, felt not the slightest bit of modesty.
"Oh honey, I'm so glad you like them. I went to the best doctor in New York City. This is the exact size they were when I was breastfeeding you. That was the time of my life when I felt most attractive. After I weened you, they dropped 2 cup sizes and flatted out. I'm so happy to have them back!"
"Well, I must be having a flashback because suddenly I'm very hungry."
As soon as I said that, I wondered what in the world came over me. I just told my mother I wanted suck her tits! Thankfully, it was apparently the right thing to say. She squealed with laughter and wrapped her arms around me again.
I was a bit tired after the 4-hour drive from State College. My girl had put me through a marathon lovemaking session the night before, knowing we'd be apart for a week. Mom had me sit at the kitchen table while she made me a sandwich. She told me how she had gotten her boob job a month ago. She said she was very sore for the first couple weeks. Now they were still sensitive, but in a 'good way'.
