For a long moment, Justin could only stare. Diana’s tits sagged just a bit, but that was due more to the effects of gravity than age. Her breasts were larger than he had imagined, as if the clothes she wore had been designed to minimize their impressive size, to hold back such magnificent specimens of womanhood. Her tits rode high and proud on her chest, full and slightly conical, two rounded and shapely hemispheres of flesh tipped by dusky, hardened nipples. They shook with each heaving breath Diana took.
Justin’s mouth was dry. His eyes locked on his mother’s tits. “Well?” she demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“They’re. . . they’re simply amazing, Mom,” Justin finally coughed out. He risked a glance at her face, and felt a warm swell in his chest when he saw her dazzling smile. His mother didn’t smile at him often, and it was always something special when she did.
At Justin’s words, the warmth within Diana rose several degrees. She felt heat consuming her. It had been so very, very long since the last man. She shrugged out of the remnants of her halter. “Would you like a closer look?” she asked her son.
Justin reached out a tentative hand and placed it upon his mother’s right breast. Her nipple dug into his palm. He groaned, and was surprised to hear his mother make a similar sound. Her flesh was hot to the touch, hard and firm, a warm weight in his hand. Diana’s hand covered his own, and pressed him into her tit. He gripped her hard, digging his fingers into the firm but yielding flesh.
Diana felt faint. Her entire body felt as though it were aflame. Every nerve ending seemed to be firing at once, and Justin’s fingertips pressing against her skin felt as though they left scorch marks. Yet she felt giddy as well, light-headed and carefree. For so very long she had held herself apart from her only child, tried to keep him at arm’s length, and for what? Because she had resented his father, the way he had treated her, and she had punished her own son for that man’s transgressions. Foolish and small-minded of her, and now eighteen years of repressed emotion were being unleashed in a most unhealthy manner. Yet she couldn’t stop. Would not, for anything.
Justin shared none of his mother’s vague doubts. All he felt were sureties. This woman before him, the woman who had given birth to him and raised him from afar, was finally giving herself to him. It was unconventional, yes, but the rampant hardness between his legs didn’t care. All he knew was that finally his mother was showing him how she felt through actions rather than words.
For how long had he dreamed of this moment? This was Justin’s most secret, most depraved fantasy. Too see his beautiful, aloof mother laid out beneath him, her features contorted with lust for him. And yet now that the moment was upon him, he didn’t know what to do.
But Diana did. Her arm looped around him and pulled him close, into a tight embrace. Full tits pressed against Justin’s chest, and Diana dipped her head down to kiss her son. Her lips parted and her tongue darted out, insinuating itself into Justin’s mouth. He reacted instinctively, returning her kiss with a ferocity that matched Diana’s.