“Bobby, I know better than that.”
“Really?”
“After what happened yesterday afternoon. . .”
I could see her pretty face flush with color. It was kinda surprising.
“. . .After the things you made me do in the garage. . .”
{She was going to stick with that “You made me” bullshit.}
“. . .Well, let me just say I know how young boys are.” She tells me. I’m sure she was unaware of the tiny twinkle in her eyes as she said it. It made me think she might be recalling some long ago memory; or perhaps even a recollection from yesterday.
“And how are we?” I asked somewhat sarcastically.
“Well. . . . . .At your age, all you guys want to do is. . .” She looked for the words; first on the floor, then the ceiling and then over towards the window,
“. . .Cum!” she decided on.
My eyebrows went up when she said the word and I felt my dick move up to the gate.
“. . .And it’s a known fact, not unusual as a matter-of-fact, for a young boy to have―Well―certain feelings for his mother at one time or another; certain ‘un-pure’ feelings…” She called them. “Freud called it. . .”
I cut her off, “Un-pure feelings?” I asked with a smirk.
“Yes Robert. The kind of feelings I’m sure you have when you’re masturbating.” She says sharply, criticizing as if she’s uncovered some deep dark secret and she’s letting me know that she knows.
“Ohhhhhhh. . .” I made like I’d finally got it. “Riiiiiiiiiight.”
She sat on my bed with a smug look on her face like she was back in charge.
“Well then. . .” I gave her a long look. Breathtaking, I thought.
{Down to business} “ . . .I suppose there IS something that I want you to do. I mean, if you don’t want me to tell Dad that is.”
“Of course there is. I knew there would be. . .” She said brashly, her head held a little higher. She seemed to sit up even straighter and smoothed the hem of her dress with her pretty hands; almost gloating that she’d been “Right”.
“Well then, what is it?” She asks, seemingly in charge but unbelievably transparent.
I stared at her for a few long seconds.
“You have really nice tits.” I finally told her.
She rolled her eyes and tried to look put-off.
“I want to see them.”
She sighed―“If I show you. . .” She was already sliding her hands up to the open ‘V’ of her dress. “. . .Is our secret safe for another day?”
“Probably not.”
She looked a little surprised. I expected some attitude but she said nothing.
I was giving her just what she wanted. I was “Blackmailing” her. I was MAKING her do this. . . . . .To save the family!
Bless her heart. She was going to brave this awful indecency. She was going to take one for the Kipper, bare that cross, sacrifice………for the family. I almost felt bad for taking her time away from that pesky world hunger thing.
She touched the open ‘V’ of her dress. She then slid her long fingers under the material above each firm tit. She gently pulled the material of her dress open and guided it around and then down underneath each mound of smooth, white flesh.
Her breasts popped out firmly over the material; two large globes pushed together by the opening of her dress. They hardly jiggled when Mom leaned back on her hands to display them and watch for my reaction. I hadn’t seen any scars indicating a breast implant, but then again, I hadn’t had the chance to examine them very thoroughly. I would remedy that.
I was impressed, there was no denying.
“Hot!”
“Figures you’d say that about your own ‘Mothers’ tits.” She says disgusted and condescendingly.
“It has nothing to do with me being your son. Any guy would love those, Mom.” I told her honestly.
For a split second she seemed to accept the complement with the good intentions it was given.
“Thank you.” She said with a little less attitude.
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