“I love the smell of rain . . .” mother murmured as I watched her breathe in a deep breath of the charged air.
“Yeah, me, too,” I grunted, following her lead and sniffing in a lungful of the moist, humid air. Another musky scent tinged the night air flowing past ma, it was her, it smelled good.
Then she slowly turned around to face me. I couldn’t keep from dropping my eyes down to her “baby-fat” globes. Her wonderful ta-tas strained out against the thin chiffon. I could make out everything about them under the gauzy material. Their size, their curve, the large ruddy circles a target for my lips, those engorged nubs protruding out to seduce my mouth. I could see everything. And then I looked down to the vague, shadowy triangle that covered the bottom of her tummy.
I couldn’t stop the spark of excitement that arced through my cock making it jump inside my jeans.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” I heard my mother ask from across the room.
She had to know that I could see right through her skimpy, little gown. She had to know, I giddily thought.
“Uh, yeah, uh, I think you’re, uh, beautiful, mom,” I choked out trying not to swallow my tongue.
“Really?” she asked me as I watched her reach up to her shoulder and ease her fingers down under the neckline of the gown.
“Really, uh, yeah, really, mom, uh, beautiful—” I muttered repeating, unable to take my eyes off her fingers as they slowly pushed the stretchy neckline down over the curve of her shoulder.
What was she doing, my fevered brain screamed? Was she going to take off her gown? What was happening? This was getting crazier by the moment. I thought my peter was going to rip out through my jeans any second now as the ruffle of lace inched lower and lower down her shoulder.
Then she stopped and slowly dropped her hand down by her side. Breathlessly, I watched as she lifted her other hand up to her other shoulder. Easing her fingers under the neckline again, she began to push it down too. The neckline now diagonally stretched across her breasts running from up on one side down to the midpoint between her shoulder and elbow on the other side. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think straight. My poor brain was in a fog as I sat watching the bizarre scene unfolding in front of my eyes as I ogled her charms.
More and more of her quivering white mammeries came into full view as mother slowly pushed the teddy down off the curve of her shoulder. Keeping her eyes on mine, watching me, she kept pushing the neckline down her arm until the elastic band was stretching straight across her private pillows with the upper edge of their areolas just showing above it.
“Do you want to see?” she asked me, her voice quivering.
“Yesssss . . .” I hissed. “Yes, Mother, I’m sorry, but, yes, I want to see.” I groaned out. I thought my brain was going to explode. The roaring inside it sounded like a hundred screaming jets. My heart was thundering like a bass drum. I could have made a fortune selling all of the cotton inside my mouth.
She didn’t move at first. Then I perceived that she was moving toward me so slowly it seemed like she was gliding not walking. With her arms hanging down at her sides, she moved closer and closer until she was standing in front of me, not more than two or three feet away.