I wanted to reach out and touch her, run my fingers over the quivering softness of her incredible knockers. But my arms were paralyzed by fear. Fear that if I did, she would regain her senses and it would be over before it began.
I could smell her perfume now. It was some cheap stuff she had bought down at the truck stop, but on her it smelled like Channel No. 5.
“I can’t help myself, Chet,” I heard Mother whimper as her arms lifted back up to her shoulders and she began slowly pushing the neckline down again. Covetously watching her, I saw the neckline slip down, exposing the upper half of her pulchritude. Then I saw the elastic band snag on the ripe rigid right nipple, stopping its downward journey. She kept pushing it down until all of a sudden it sprang loose and with a flouncing bobble, her full unencumbered breast flopping out into the open.
“So pretty—” I moaned, staring at the bare bonanza as it hung down from her chest softly quivering and trembling. Moving with a little more impetus this time, she moved her other hand and started pushing the rest of the ruffled band of elastic lower. The elastic duplicated its earlier movement by catching on her other nipple. A quick tug on it and the left popped free as well, now exposing her whole top to fill my focus. OH! . . . the two of them drooping down and swooping out, uncovered and a feast for my drunken dizzy eyeballs. I absorbed the sight with a naughty hunger, my mouth watering with an inappropriate appetite.
“Are they too baggy?” I heard her softly ask as she cupped them in her hands and lifted them up off her chest.
“No—God, no!” I groaned.
“You’re not just saying that,” she whispered, easing them back down.
“They’re perfect—” I praised, staring at them in reverent adoration.
My poor cock was rock hard and caught in such a painful position, I was about to cry. I had to fix it before it broke and left me with a useless hunk of flesh. Watching Mother continuing to push her gown down, I grabbed at my cock and jerked it over to a much less restricted position.
I saw mom pause and glance down at the bulge of my cock as I moved it. She seemed pleased that I was hard as she continued to stare at it for several long seconds. Then she smiled and went back to pushing her gown down her torso.
Now that I wasn’t in pain anymore, I watched the neckband slowly crawl down over the rounded paunch of her belly and finally down past the forest of curls covering her sex. Those golden blond locks matched the color of her hair as more and more of the profuse tangle was revealed as she stripped, until suddenly the sheer slinky gown went slithering down her legs to land in a muddle covering her bare feet.
Daintily mother balanced as she slipped the panties off too. Now ma stood before me as naked as the day she’d been born . . . except for the band of gold she wore on her left ring finger. Strangely, I found myself staring at it as it caught the glare of that single light hanging over the table.
Mother saw me looking at her ring. Looking down at it herself, she lifted her hand up fingers splayed and slowly eased the little, gold band off her finger. Then she leaned toward me, reached around me and laid the ring on the table. She was giving up its protection, its message to the world of “Look, I am married. You can’t have me.” But now that token was gone and she was free once again. The symbolism of the gesture left me speechless. She was forsaking her marriage . . . for me!