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  • Humiliated By Mom Ch. 01

Humiliated By Mom Ch. 01

12

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My mom and I had always been very close. Even though my parents had split up when I was five and I'd gone to live with my dad, the visits we'd make to her over the years were always exciting and full of joy. My mom is a beautiful woman, always has been. She takes great pride in her appearance and revels in the seemingly constant flow of attention men give her. I don't blame them. She has shoulder length brown hair that alternates from her natural curliness, to pin straight when she's usually going out and wants to look her best. She has olive skin due to her Italian heritage, and piercing eyes that can burn a hole straight through any warm blooded male. Her lips are soft and inviting, and she sports a tongue ring, which she loves to play around with. The clicking sound it makes against her teeth is one of the most sensual sounds in the world. At forty-six, she's a knock out.

She's not that tall. Maybe 5'6, with a petite frame. She'd told me that after she had me, she'd gotten a tit lift. I'd found the medical papers one day in a drawer I probably shouldn't have been looking in. It also contained one thick vibrating dildo that must have been about eight inches long. I was seventeen, and I remember being somewhat shocked at first, but then intrigued. I began to see my mom as more of a sexual being after that. By this time, I'd started high school and was living with her downtown. The commute would have been too long if I'd stayed with my dad in the east end.

I'd come home from school early that day while she was still at work. When I found the papers, curious, I took them to my room to read them through. I'd foolishly left them on my bed and she'd come in and found them. I think my mom's tits are absolutely magnificent. They're about a 34c, and sit proudly atop her chest. The doctors must have done a great job, because they look like they belong to a twenty-two year old. With just a tiny hint of sag, they still possess a very natural and full look. I know she loves to show them off any chance she gets in tight fitting, cleavage bearing tops.

My mom tries to be good about keeping in shape, working out and eating right. There's a certain unmovable confidence she can exude when she's in the right mood. A kind of raw sexuality that's arresting to say the least. I'm twenty-three now, and it never fails to give her a little thrill when someone mistakes us for a couple while we're in public. Which happens often. I used to get embarrassed by it, especially when she would start flirting with whoever made the comment, right in front of me. But I've learned to live with it. I can't stop her from being a gorgeous, alluring sexpot, and why should I? She deserves it. Although it proved to be a tad rough going through high school with a MILF. My friends would never forget to remind me just how hot she is every time they got the chance. It was uncomfortable for me when she'd come to school recitals dressed in very revealing attire, of which she had a closet full of. She has a passion for shoes. High heeled stilettos in particular. Every kind you can think of. Glossy red Jimmy Choo's, six inches high with straps that wrap around her calves so seductively. Tan suede toeless Manolo's, wrapped around her cute little feet. And the way she walks when she's in them. I can't help but get aroused when I hear the clip-clap on the hard wood floor. She completely owns it, and almost never has them off. From her toes right up to her tight little butt, she maintains composure and femininity with a dominant air.

My friends always tried to flirt with her any chance they got, and she'd love it. They still do for that matter. The worst of it though, is that she'd flirt back! I'd be standing with my pals by the lockers after the big show and she'd come walking over like a model on a run way. Her high heels, tight little dress and bound right up to us. She'd usually give me a big smooch on my lips and tell me how proud she was of me, before moving on to the other teenage boys present. She'd comment on how handsome they all looked while she played with that little tongue ring. Laughing at all their stupid jokes, reaching out and touching their shoulders with that radiant smile she possessed, turning them to jelly. The whole time ignoring me and my obvious discomfort with the situation.

I know she wouldn't do it to hurt me, but when we'd get home she'd assess which of my pals had the hots for her, which ones she thought were cute. She wanted to laugh about it together, like friends. She's just like that. But when I'd tell her I didn't want to hear about it and that it made me angry the way they talk about her, she'd tell me not to dictate how she should act around me. That she was a full grown woman and could handle herself however she pleased. She's a very independent woman. She'd sit me down and explain to me that a lot of men find her attractive and that it made her feel good to know she could still be considered hot by someone my age. I'd be cringing the whole conversation, just praying for it to be over. Her perfect tits bouncing and jiggling as she moved, her bare legs crossed with one foot dangling sexily in the air as she spoke. I knew there was truth in what she was saying. I just didn't want to confront it.

She'd always dressed skimpily around the house for as long as I could remember too, but it started to get a little awkward the older I got. An average night would have her in her favorite faded, thin white t-shirt with the title of her favorite club written across it. No bra. Her nipples could be easily seen through the fabric, dark and usually erect. It was fraying around the neck line and around the bottom and had been accidentally torn once so she'd cut a big dip, leaving ample viewing space for the top of her tits and her smooth, flat tummy. She had a huge assortment of panties, all different colors. Some frilly, some dainty, some downright slutty. She had one pair that was more like a thong. It was black and rode up her crack, leaving her full round cheeks on display. There was a red frilly trim and a little gold star sewn into the front patch, which barely hid anything of her obviously shaved pussy.

Part of me wonders wonders how many of my friends have mothers who walk around the house like this. It's impossible not to stare at this sculpted goddess I still live at home with when she's dressed this way. But I question too, how natural it is given the way she turns me on. My mom has a very controlling, some would say self-centered attitude sometimes and she did everything she could to get me to stay with her after high school. I guess I'm an obedient son. I do most of the housework, make a lot of the meals and do a lot for her. She's always complaining about how sore her muscles get and I've become sort of her on call masseuse. Whenever she's done a workout, she expects that I will be there to service her aching body. It's become kind of a routine over the past couple of years. It still makes me feel a bit strange.

Let me explain. It started with her asking me to rub her shoulders every now and then while we'd be watching TV on the couch. That eventually graduated to foot rubs, then calf massages. I would come home from work and she'd be just finished her workout, curled up on the couch waiting for it. You could say she had that feisty, fiery way about her most Italian women have. When I'd tell her I was tired from a long day at work and suggested I give her a rub down later, she would get very irritated and tell me how it's not easy to maintain a figure as good as hers at such an age. That it's hard work keeping her ass looking so young and high. She'd go on in a very bitchy tone about how much she'd gotten hit on that day by some guy my age and that I should be proud to have a hot mom. The least I could do was service her when she needed it. I would submit and she'd lie down on her stomach on the couch, her tits jutting out at either side of her petite frame. Content and happy. I'd begin with the ritual just the way she liked it, each individual toe first. Then the feet themselves, up to her calves, her thighs and then her usually bare ass. I'd made the mistake of refusing to do this part before. She'd tell me how most of the workout was based around her butt and that if I didn't massage it, it would make her very upset.

She eventually insisted I take a course on massage technique for her, so I did. I knew how much these massages meant to her and really I just want to make her happy. She does work hard and I remind myself not to be so selfish. If it makes her feel good, that's all that really matters.

One morning at breakfast, which I'd served to her in bed, I proposed the idea of hosting a party for some of my friends. Her eyes practically lit up.

"A party? Oh, that sounds fun honey," she mused while I worked her toes. Breakfast massages had become a recent favorite of hers.

"Will Mark be coming?" Mark was a good friend of mine, and was very popular at school, especially with girls. If I had to guess I'd say he was the one my mom consistently flirted with the most.

"Yeah, of course," I replied. She clapped her hands quickly together smiling.

"Yay! God, if I was twenty years younger you'd have to literally pry me off that boy." She threw her head back and laughed. Her tits jiggling in that same shirt, nipples jutting out. Her hair was messy and curly and her make-up was smudged from last night's party she'd gone to with her friends.

"Uhh, yeah..." I kept my head down, feeling that knot in my stomach. The knot I felt when she essentially would tell me to my face which of my friends she wants to fuck.

"You know, I'll never forget," she began, taking a bite of her toast, "the first time I got kissed, really kissed. This boy had the biggest crush on me in tenth grade-"

"Mom," I interrupted.

"Shhh! You just keep going, don't talk so much. I'm trying to tell you something," she waved her hand dismissively at me. I continued rubbing oil deep into her feet as she went on about yet another boy she'd made helplessly cream himself when she was younger. I'd already gotten the picture!

"Anyway," she went on, closing her eyes and letting out a sensuous little moan, "he was this dark, handsome guy. Italian. I'll never forget the way he just took me in his arms. The way our tongues felt against each other. I had my first mini 'O' in his bedroom, straddling him. It was so hot." She'd taken to using terms like 'O' for orgasm and other phrases she'd heard from the younger generation. She smiled and looked wistfully into the air. I was about ready to say something again to get her off topic, but I could sense she was wrapping it up.

"Anyway, he looked just like Mark," she let out a little squeal. Part of me was excited that I was having a get together with my friends. But part of me dreaded the fact that my mom would insist on being present, dressed I'm sure in some elegantly slutty outfit. I'd never had a party before, so I didn't know what would happen. But it was her house and if she wanted to partake, I had no say in the matter.

The night came and my mom could barely contain her excitement. She modeled outfit after outfit for me, undecided on which one would impress Mark and the boys the most. When she'd finally chosen her clothes for the evening, that knot came back into my stomach. She'd straightened her hair, it was full of volume and shone. Her lipstick was blood red, with dark eye shadow bringing out her long lashes. She had on a pair of black earrings that dangled almost to her shoulders. Her dress though, was unbelievable! I'd never seen this one before, which led me to believe she'd gotten it over the weekend specifically for this party. It was skin tight and red, and was one of those dresses you couldn't wear a bra with. The cleavage line was extremely low and the piece ended just over halfway up her bare tanned thighs. On her feet were one of the highest pairs of strapped heels I'd ever seen on her. Black and glossy, her newly painted red toenails just creeping out the front, squeezed together. It all looked like something a twenty year old club slut would wear for a night out of drinking and promiscuous sex.

I was expecting people to start showing up around nine o'clock and it was eight thirty now. I was sitting at my laptop on Facebook looking at photos of a very hot girl I had a crush on. I'd invited her and she had accepted. Her name was Alex and she was a beauty, tall and thin with nice tits and big green eyes. Dark, reddish hair. I was in the living room when I heard mom come downstairs from her room. I looked up at her and my jaw dropped.

"Jesus, mom," I said wide eyed. She had a glass of wine in her hand and she started to walk over to me where I was sitting on the couch. One foot after the other, she approached.

"Well? Is this enough?" She asked me, one eyebrow raised, standing over me. She had a big toothy smile across her face. I felt my cock pulsate in my jeans.

"Enough for what?" I asked.

"Listen, I know you have some girls coming over tonight," she motioned toward my laptop screen, which I closed immediately. She just giggled. "I just want to be able to keep up with them, you know?"

I nodded, and she sat down next to me. She was quite a vision. In fact, she was sex personified. My own mom was probably going to be the hottest female at this party. And it didn't make me feel that great.

"Honey," she started, suddenly very earnest, taking my hand in hers, "I want to tell you that I'm going to flirt with your friends tonight. I'm a grown woman and you're twenty three years old. I think we can be adults about this." She looked down briefly and clicked her tongue ring. "If you start to whine to me about how it's making you uncomfortable or whatever, I'm not going to stop. Just because I had a son doesn't mean my sexual freedom gets automatically taken away from me. Now, we've been through this before and I just want to make everything clear. Capiche?"

There was nothing I could say. I just nodded. I was nervous as hell about what would happen, how she would conduct herself. But she was right, there was nothing I could do. Then the door bell rang. My mom jumped off the couch and ran with little itty bitty hops to greet the first of the guests. I heard them talking to each other, and I waited for them all to make their way into the living room. Jack was the first to enter with his girlfriend Kate. They were the blonde, blue eyed jock and cheerleader couple when we were in high school. They'd stayed together throughout college and they looked better than ever. Kate was wearing an Abercrombie t-shirt with high cut off jeans and a pair of sandal heels. She had her hair sexily done up. Jack was in a buttoned down shirt and jeans.

Next was Carl and James, then my crush Alex who was dressed in a tight fitting wrap around dress that came just below her glorious bubble butt. She had heels almost identical to my mom's but in a dark blue. She looked outstanding. Finally my mom came in laughing with none other than Mark who already had his hand on my mom's back. He looked over at me and smiled, raising his eyebrows.

Everyone settled in and brought out their drinks. Jack and Kate shared one of the love seats, with her sitting his lap, while Carl, James and Alex shared the couch with me. Just as Mark was about to sit down, he noticed my mom was without a place to seat her delicious little tush. He quickly got up and offered it to her and she graciously accepted, him taking the arm. It was safe to say all eyes were on my mom and her big, beautiful tits. Even the girls. As the drinks started to flow, everyone got a little more comfortable and a little more loose with their conversation. Alex, of all people, was the first to say something to my mom outright about her appearance. She was sitting next to me, her milky white leg brushing up against mine every now and then. I was doing my best to keep from having an erection but it was close to impossible.

"Mary, I can't believe Michael is your son," she gushed, with a hint of amazement in her voice.

"What do you mean?" Mom asked, a grin already forming on her red lips. She crossed her legs, leaned forward and took one last swig of her now empty wine glass. She held it out toward me, keeping eye contact with Alex. When I didn't take it, she looked over at me and held it up higher. "More please, doll," she said to me. Somewhat deflated and embarrassed, I got up and took her glass to the kitchen. Everybody started hooting and hollering, shouting 'momma's boy' to me, and laughing. I tried to shrug it off, but it wasn't so easy.

"He's a good boy," I heard her say. Everyone continued to giggle.

Alex continued, "Well, you just look so young...and hot!"

"Thanks babe," my mom answered back. "You're sweet. It takes a bit of effort, but I have to keep up with you girls." I poured her wine while listening to this in the kitchen. "Michael helps me relax though. He gives me a full body massage after every workout with this amazing warm oil. Oh, it gives me goosebumps sometimes."

I couldn't believe she was telling them this. I was mortified! And to my own crush. I heard Alex giggle. You don't feel the coolest when your smoking hot mom is telling your friends about her daily massages she commands you to give her.

Carl piped up, "damn, you've got your boy whipped!" They all cackled. My heart sank as I made sure there was just the right amount of red in the glass. Just how mom likes it. I came back into the room and handed her the glass. Her impeccably manicured hands wrapped around it. I noticed that my mom had taken my place beside Alex and Mark was now sat in my mom's seat. I sat down on the arm of the couch, next to my mom.

"I know, I told you he's a good little boy," Mom looked up at me, squeezing my arm. They teased me for a bit longer while I pretended not to care. Then Alex continued. She leaned over my mom, looking at me. I was excited she was about to speak to me.

"Sorry Michael, but your mom has the nicest tits," she smiled. The room erupted. I just nodded as she squeezed them together in that tight red dress.

"Seriously Mary, I would kill for your tits," Kate piped up. "How on earth do you keep them so high and like, firm? Sorry Michael," she looked up at me. It was beginning to feel patronizing. My mom just giggled and placed her glass on the table.

"Well, I had them lifted after I had this one," she replied, motioning to me. "They're still firm too," she said squeezing them with her hands, chuckling. "You can feel them if you want."

Kate gasped. "Holy fuck, you are like the coolest mom ever. Honestly." And with that, she bounced off Jack's lap as everyone leaned in for a good look of this hot blonde feeling up my mom. Mom straightened herself, putting her palms on the couch and pushing out her chest. Kate leant in and cupped my mom's right tit as every one cheered. I was in hell. She moved to the next one as my mom joked with Jack, saying he'd better be careful or she was gonna steal her away.

"This is too awesome," James spoke. All the guys agreed.

"Wow, they're like, so perfect," Kate said, smiling. Alex looked at my mom who gave her a nod.

"Go ahead," she said looking at Alex. I watched, paralyzed as my crush brought her dainty little hand up to my mom's wonderful tits. Now both girls were feeling up my mom, a breast in each girl's hand.

"Whew, ok," my mom spoke. "You're going to make me cream myself if you're not careful, and this is a brand new couch!" everyone laughed. Kate drew her hand off of my mom's now erect nipple and sat back down on Jack's lap. Easing herself into him, a new glow in her cheeks. Alex brought her hand away as well, grabbing her glass. I nervously smiled anticipating what would happen next. By now, everyone was pretty tipsy and sex was in the air.

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