Amazon MILF's Fun with The Son

CHAPTER FOUR

In which we FINALLY get some action

Adam opened his mouth, shut it, looked at her hand, then up at her face. "OK... you want to..."

"Arm-wrestle, yes."

He turned to me, mouth open again. I raised my hand. "Don't look at me - YOU are the manly man, I'm just along for the ride."

He turned back to her. "Look, I don't know... I think maybe I..."

She said, calmly: "If you lose, you take your mom to the gym next week."

He took some time to consider this. "OK, but it's up to her to agree, right."

"That is correct."

"OK, that's if I LOSE. What do I get if I WIN?"

Mom smiled her killer smile. "If you win, I flash my tits for you."

He looked at her for a moment, not believing his ears, and then jumped up.

"I'm IN!"

He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, and in one swift motion took it off. "I'm ALL in!"

Mom looked up at him, appreciatively. He was pretty buff - wide shoulders, thick arms, flat stomach with a quite discernible six-pack, his chest covered with a field of thin, light-brown hair. If not for the handsome face, he would have made a good caveman...

Mom looked over at me, and winked surreptitiously. She turned her gaze back to him, and leaned back in her chair. "All in it is, then."

The next moment was one that I was to relive in my mind over and over again for many days to come. Looking up at Adam, who seemed to be barely holding himself together, giddy as he was with excitement., she took the hem of her shirt in both hands and started pulling it up, seemingly in slow-motion. The top of her Daisy Duke's was revealed first, with the strings of her yellow bikini bottom rising out on the sides, hugging her almost-narrow waist. The bottom of her torso was curving outwards, with a vein running on each side, going up and inwards towards her belly button, snaking around it and crawling further up. There were three ridges rising just above the belly button, each with a deep canyon running through it, completing an 8-pack most men could just dream about. There were oblique muscles - round small bricks flanking her craggy middle section, flaring outwards with her widening lats. And then there was the yellow of her bikini top - two tiny triang covering those luscious, delicious breasts, squeezing them, her nipples pressing forward, daring you to look away... But your eye follows the rising shirt, and you watch the bottom of her pecs - two meaty slabs, clearly defined, pushing those wondrous breasts forwards... But you can't stay with them either, as she's now pulling the shirt over her thick, corded neck, and the full majesty of her arms is starting to come into view - the thick, massive biceps, slightly flexed, 18" of unimaginable, feminine power waiting to be unleashed...

She was shaking her short, dark blonde hair, her hands back on the table - and she was looking directly at ME, biting her lower lip, awaiting my reaction...

I'm writing all of this now, and time has passed, and I have seen and done things - but, as I sit here with my thesaurus and try to put this all into words, in a way that would do it justice, I still find myself gaping at the memory, a smile coming to my lips, time and again, and my dick... Yeah, well - my dick is always happy to have this particular memory. I remember how my mom smiled as she saw the wonder and joy in my eyes, as I realized that this was all for ME, her gift to the son she loved...

And Adam was there, too. After a long moment of gazing into each other's eyes and smiling like love-struck idiots, we both turned to him. He was still standing, t-shirt in hand, mouth agape, taking in the breathtaking wonder that was my mother, the bulge in his pants threatening to burst his pants open.

Mom cleared her throat. "So. Shall we begin?"

The "match" - if we could call it that - was a pretty short and brutal affair. It took Adam a few moments to compose himself; he knew he didn't stand a chance, but I think he was hoping that this was all a show for his benefit, her way of flirting with him, that she was going to give him the win and show him her tits (not that there was much further to reveal) and, maybe, maybe... Who knows?

Yeah, didn't happen. She held her hand firm, 90 degrees from the table. It didn't budge an inch, as he did his best to move it, at one point almost lying on it with the full weight of his body. She just smiled at him sweetly. After about 3 minutes of this, she just moved her forearm, effortlessly driving his arm backwards, stopping a few inches above the table. As he tried desperately to hold his position, she locked eyes with him, smiled, and said: "I think we're done here." and slammed his hand down.

Adam's eyes crossed, and he groaned - but it was not a groan of pain...

Mom smiled and leaned back, picking up her tablet. "That was fun. Now, you boys skedaddle - it's Friday, lots of work still."

Adam just sat there, dumbly, nursing his aching wrist. He looked at her with puppy eyes, and said, brokenly: "I love you, Mrs. Taylor."

"I know, sweetie." she said, smiling warmly. "Say hi to your mother from me."

I stood up and patted his shoulder. "Let's go, champ."

He looked up at me, listless. "I'll need pants or whatever..."

"Yeah, let's go up, we'll find something."

He got up slowly, clutching his shirt in front of his crotch - it couldn't quite hide the spreading dark stain.

I found a pair of baggy basketball shorts, which sorta fit. After changing he sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of us in the mood for chatting. Finally he looked up at me, and said: "Dude - forget everything I said. If she wants you - do it! Fuck everything - just do it!"

I nodded, not saying anything. We just sat there, staring at nothing, each with his own thoughts.

When he left, a few moments later, mom was in the living room, sitting in the easy chair, her back to us. Adam called out: "Goodbye, Mrs. Taylor".

She lifted a beefy arm, waved goodbye. "bye, Adam! Don't forget to take your mom to the gym!"

"I will", he said, sighing.

I walked him to his car, and patted his back. I would have thanked him, but I don't think he would have understood - or, if he did, appreciate the sentiment...

When I got back home, Mom was standing near the big glass doors, opening to the back yard. She was wearing just her bikini - the one that I now recognized for sure - and she looked like something out of Norse mythology... I walked into the living room, and she looked up, her gaze soft. "There's still an hour of sun left, think I'll go catch some. Wanna come rub lotion on my back?"

Yeah, let me think about this for a moment...

CHAPTER FIVE

In which we get seriously touchy-feely. The touchy bit is at the end.

I was now working on her back; I did the legs first, but I skipped her glutes - I was saving them for last... My hands, white with sunscreen, were going over her impossibly wide upper back, methodically rubbing it in, lovingly caressing each and every bulging muscle, enjoying the silky smoothness of her skin, the feel of the corded muscle lying underneath it.

This was the first time I've seen her body since last summer - the first time I've touched her exposed skin since her transformation, the first time in many years, really. Up close, I saw that she wasn't really "cut", she didn't have that dried-up look you see in bodybuilding competition photos, that almost-inhuman, chiseled look; there definitely was meat on them bones... Yeah, those tits should have been a dead giveaway. I knew she was very particular about her diet, very careful with the calories, but she hated the idea of fasting to get the "perfect" body; for her, it was all about being healthy - and having fun. I knew she loved working out - she tried many times over the last couple of years to get me to go to the gym with her, but I refused; I was scared, not sure of what - afraid of the physical connection? scared of the growing yearning, that thing that has been growing inside me, afraid to give in to it? What a fucking moron... All that wasted time...!

The backyard was probably the best thing about our house. It wasn't really big, but our house was on the outskirts of the neighborhood, and the ground sloped away from the low wall in the front, down to the grove, 40 yards away, giving us a full, unimpeded view of blue sky. There was the neighbouring house to the side, but we were close enough to our house to be safe from any prying eyes on the second floor there (Mr. Ramsay, if you are reading this: yes, we know about the binoculars).

Mom was spread out on a large towel, her humongous arms spread forward. She hasn't spoken since we got out to the yard, save for the occasional moan of pleasure. Now, as I finished working her lower back and moved to the glorious mounds beneath it, I heard her chuckle softly.

"I noticed you skipped it before... Saving it for last?"

I laughed, embarrassed. "Well, it IS the best..." And it was. It was very large, very round, very meaty, the tiny yellow triangle and strings of the bikini framing it beautifully. She said nothing, but the two orbs suddenly jumped under my hands, as she clenched her glutes. I slowed down, taking them in both hands, massaging them slowly, deeply, feeling the meaty skin moving, responding to my probing fingers, only to be met by ungiving, powerful muscle... She moaned softly. "Baby, this feels SO good..."

I couldn't help myself. I didn't really try, didn't really think. I bent down, and softly, intently, kissed her heavenly cheek. And then I froze.

She said nothing, didn't move - surprised? Shocked? Angry? I tried to speak, to apologize, but nothing came out. After a moment, she turned around, lying on her side, looking up at me. She was smiling, a soft, loving smile, the setting sun framing her hair with a bright, glowing halo. She reached out, took my hand in hers, gave it a small squeeze. "It's OK, baby. it's OK".

I smiled back, embarrassed, her smile filling the world, the lights dancing in her eyes filling me with sudden joy. "I... I just..."

She squeezed my hand again. "I know, sweetie. I know." She raised her hand to my face, taking my chin in her fingers, stroking it. "It's the yellow bikini, isn't it? You just can't resist it, can you?"

I felt my face going red. The bikini... "You knew about... about the picture?" I asked.

She laughed softly. "Of course. Mother always knows!"

She laughed again as she saw my reaction. "Well, I found it on the floor near your bed one day, when I was cleaning your room. This, and all those sheets, with the mysterious dark stains... Didn't need Sherlock Holmes to figure this one out!"

Just shoot me, please. "I'm sorry, mom, I... Well..."

Nothing much I could say, right? I looked away from her, looking for a meteor that could come and crush my head, preferably in the next few seconds.

She was having none of it, her strong fingers pulling my face back, her eyes locking on mine, serious now. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, baby. And, if we're being honest, I've been doing a little fantasizing of my own, those last few weeks..." I gazed at her, surprised. She said: "lay down, there are things I want to tell you. But take off that shirt, first; you're supposed to be sunbathing, for cryin' out loud!"

I took it off, revealing my pale, skinny body, with the coat of near colorless hair running up from my lower belly to my upper chest - the one signifier of my manhood... As I lay down on my side, facing this gorgeous, tan goddess, I felt again the overwhelming effect of her physical presence - the gigantic, boulderous shoulders, the huge, round bicep on the arm supporting her head, the abdominal crags and ridges snaking along her torso, down to the tiny yellow triangle of her bikini, the heavy, veiny arm resting on her upraised, round hip, the bulging muscles on her impossibly long thighs. And - of course - her breasts, those breathtaking globes, pushed forward by her mammoth pecs, barely held by the teeny, tiny pieces of yellow cloth...

"I used to love my body," she was saying."I was always a bit chubby, sometimes a bit overweight - even when I was playing basketball. But I was always very comfortable with it, and people used to like it. And, well, me... There were always people who tried to get more than a smile, but I knew how to handle them."

She was silent for a moment, thinking. "There was one that really turned into a problem. That was when I was working at the hospital, and the regional head of social services developed an obsession with me. I turned him down, again and again, and then he started making my working conditions hell, trying to pressure me into giving in to him. I wanted to take him to court over this, but your father was against it. He was building his business up, relying on state contracts, and he was afraid that guy could make trouble for him... His advice for me was: wear less provocative clothes to work..."

I guffawed. "No WAY!!"

We almost never talked about my dad; I never much liked him, always felt he was a bit of a jerk, but this was some real bullshit. And - as it soon turned out - this was not the worst of it...

"It didn't stop. turned out that buttoning my shirt all the way up did NOT do the trick... One time - you were about 11 - he attacked me physically in his office. Groped my tits, tried to kiss me... I punched him in the face, knocked him out."

I was gaping at her, aghast. She saw my reaction, smiled grimly. "Yup. My first fight since high school... It was a beauty, too, black eye and all. Police were called, complaints were filed... I was going to fight this all the way, but your dad had other ideas. The company was doing very well by then, and he didn't want anyone to rock the boat. He talked me into quitting my job, all the complaints were dropped, I gave up a job that made me happy, where I was actually doing good, helping people..."

She paused. I reached out my hand, hesitantly. She took it in her own larger, calloused hand, and squeezed it. "You know what came next - you were witness. I spiralled pretty badly... I became depressed, gained a lot of weight, I almost gave up. I lost interest in most things - your father was absolutely no help, you were about the only thing that kept me semi-sane..."

I was tearing up, now. Like, real tears. I remember those times all too well, but I don't think I ever understood her despair. She smiled wistfully, reached out with her hand, wiping the tears with her finger. "Yeah, it was bad... And your father - well, he could be very charming when he wanted to, but at that stage he didn't want to, not with me. His wife was supposed to support HIM, be the trophy he could should show off, and I could be - do - neither things. So, he finally walked. He didn't mind paying all that alimony - to him it was much cheaper than just holding my hand..."

I again couldn't help myself. I drew myself up, and moved into her body, my hand hugging her waist, my head resting on her breast. I just wanted to hold her, to comfort her - which might have not looked as ridiculous as it probably did if I WEREN'T about half her size... She hugged me, and kissed the top of my head. "Well, there IS a happy end, remember? I DID get my shit together, and it had a lot to do with you. Your aunt Sally, she told me something one day that somehow made it through the fog: 'your son could have left and gone to live with his dad in a beach house in San Diego, but he chose to stay in fucking North Carolina with YOU!' Not sure why, but this had an impact. The thought that someone could love me? That my SON loved me? That I needed to be there for you? Don't know. But you know the rest. I started out wanting to shape up, get my body to be ready to go back to life, but - I got hooked. I MIGHT have overdone it a bit..."

I raised my head, looked up at her. I could feel the wetness of the tears on my cheeks, but I was smiling. "I'm glad you did, mom. I love your body."

She looked down at me, smiling back. Her hand moved to my hip, hugging me closer. I was suddenly aware of her body - the soft, pliable breast under my head, the hard, muscle-bound thigh pressing against me, the heavy hand, resting on my hip - and my own dick, fully awake, pressing against my trunks, touching her lower abs...

She felt it, too. Her hand went down, brushing gently against it. "mmm... I guess you really do..." And then I felt her hand sliding into my trunks, her palm engulfing my manhood, her fingers closing around it, gently, caressing it...

"So, you think your mother's muscles are sexy?"

It took a conscious effort to start breathing again. I closed my eyes. "Yes..."

She moved her torso back a little, making room. Her giant palm was now sliding up and down my shaft, jerking it gently. "mmm... Would you like to see just how big they are? Would you like mommy to show you?"

"Oh... Yes..."

My head was now back resting on her breast, a hard nipple digging at my cheek. I moved my head, seeking it with my mouth. I felt her other hand moving, pulling her bikini top aside, and suddenly it was in my mouth, and I closed my lips around it, biting it oh-so-gently with my teeth, suckling...

She moaned. "Oh, baby... " Her hand moving, up and down, one moment rough, the next soft and gentle. Her voice, when she spoke, was a low, throaty whisper. "I'll do it for you, baby... Mommy will do it for you... I'll pump it, I'll pump my bicep, so big, so beautiful... Just for you.. To squeeze, to kiss, to lick... Would you like that, baby?"

I moaned, my mouth filled with her hard, rubbery nipple, licking, biting, sucking...

"Now cum, baby... Cum for mommy..." Her hand was gliding faster, lubricated with my pre-cum. "Oh, yeah, baby, show mommy what you've got... Give mommy your love juice... Oh, YES!!!!" And I exploded, wave after wave of my semen shooting up, covering our torsos in white goo, as I dug my face into her soft breast, my face contorted in a silent scream of ecstasy...

As I lay there, all spent and out of breath, I felt her hands taking hold of me, and she pulled me upwards, bringing me face-to-face with her. She was smiling, as happy as I have ever seen her. "Hey."

"Hey." I put my hand over her torso, and pulled myself into her, locking our lips in a slow, lingering kiss. We remained like this for a few minutes, until the sticky goo covering our upper bodies became too hard to ignore. She broke away, smiling.

"Well, I asked you to show me what you got - guess I know, now..."

I sat up, feeling a bit groggy. "Yeah, we'll better go shower... Errr... See you at dinner?"

She laughed out loud at that. "Like hell we will!"

She got up, her great bulk moving lithe and assured. As I struggled to my feet, she picked me up in her beefy arms, cradling me next to her lavish bosom. "The shower after is one of the best bits - but only if you do it together... And I think it's time for little Dean to come back home for a visit, don't you?"

Couldn't argue with that.

As she carried me up to her bedroom and her large shower, I asked: "mom - 'love juice'? Really?"

"Shut UP, "she said. "It worked, didn't it?"