Thank God It’s Frida!

A silent, tense moment passed. "Good to know!" she finally said, simply.

Matt made an inner gasp at her response.

"We're going to wash your hair first," he heard Frida say, after she fastened the snaps in the back of the smock, still beyond his field of sight. "so I need you to lean back and rest your head on the ledge of this sink behind you. Okay?"

"I just washed my hair, though." Matt said. "We don't have to do it again, you think?"

"Oh... I have a feeling that you're going to want it extra clean for this." she said, somewhat suggestively. "I'll help guide your head back."

Matt felt gentle hands cradling the back of his head as he leaned back. He closed his eyes until he felt contact with the sink ledge behind him.

"There! Now you're ready!" Frida said from above.

Matt opened his eyes and gasped immediately when he beheld her standing closely, leaning over him. Gone was the simple, red, flower patterned town dress. In its place she wore a thin, white, cotton blouse with four buttons running up the center towards the staggeringly low cut neckline. The low height of the chair Matt was seated in had positioned his head at the same level as Frida's bellybutton, giving him a vantage point to savor. Dangling mere inches above his face was two of the biggest tits he had ever seen in person. Her breasts loomed hugely before his eyes, only nearly half clad in the white cotton, for the low scooping neckline of her blouse, aided by the angle of her lean, was causing an avalanche of pale mammary fat to ooze forward from the opening. The wide set buttons of her thin blouse were under visible strain, allowing large gaps to spread in between them, confirming, by the line of bare cleavage running throughout the length, that her breasts were, indeed, no longer encumbered by a brassiere.

"Just relax and enjoy!" Frida said, contently.

Matt was beside himself as the water from the faucet began flowing. She leaned further forward to retrieve the hand held kitchen sprayer hose at the opposite corner of the square sink. When she did, Matt saw... then felt her larger than life left breast close in, plant itself, then squash itself, over the entirety of his amazed face.

"Sorry if I end up smothering you a little." she giggled. "You're in a rather compromising position down there!"

Matt had to wait for her head sized tit to be lifted from his face before he was able to respond. "S'ok!" he said, happily gasping for air. "Accidents happen."

Matt could barely see Frida's smirking smile beyond her two enormous, projecting, round boobs that dominated his field of vision. Her left hand rested on her hip while her right hand held the kitchen sprayer aloft. "You're right about that!" she said. Suddenly, her thumb pressed the button on the sprayer handle, sending a dousing cascade across Frida's blouse. "... Oopsies!" she said, nonchalantly.

Droplets of water dripped down over Matt's shocked expression from the pair of huge, sopping wet breasts that hovered above his face. In an instant, Frida's white cotton shirt had been rendered transparent, clinging to her body like a second skin. Her round, hazelnut colored areolas presented themselves clearly before Matt's wide eyes, crowned in the center by an erect, pencil eraser sized nipple.

"Oh! Look what I've done!" Frida exclaimed, trying to suppress a smile from breaking at the sight of Matt's stupefied expression. She shrugged her shoulders, sending her massive breasts into a deep wobble. "Oh well! If you're anything like your father... you won't mind, right?"

Matt's throat was too dry to form words from his mouth hanging ajar. A simple shake of his head was all could muster.

"Good!" Frida exclaimed. "Now let's get this mop of yours cleaned up!"

She leaned over him, bringing her arms forward to bathe Matt's hair in the warm stream of the chrome sprayer. Matt felt his chin and cheeks being pressed and batted by the jiggling, round tops of her incredibly large breasts. As her efforts persisted, his face gradually became more and more consumed by the plush canyon of flesh. Billowing domes of pale, soft skin threatened to overtake his sight when he felt the first button of her wet blouse drag against his chin towards his lips. An unintentional movement of his mouth was all it took for the button to dislodge from its eyelet. Matt would have gasped if he had the ability to breathe. Frida continued to gently run her fingers through Matt's wet hair, unabated as she leaned further and further forward, slowly. By the time the second button of her blouse reached Matt's mouth, his entire face was completely submerged amid her bountiful bosom. A subtle pucker from his lips released the button with practically imperceptible ease.

"Need to take a breath?" Matt heard Frida ask, raising herself to stand up straight.

Matt felt as though he was nearly blue from lack of oxygen, but he wasn't about to start complaining. When his eyes beheld the state of Frida's blouse, his breath refused to return despite being unimpeded.

The entire length of her bare cleavage was springing from the unbuttoned opening of her shirt. Her soaked, transparent lapels were the only thing keeping her naked breasts from tumbling free. Only inches of wet fabric remained to keep her rigid nipples covered.

"You look a little green around the gills, there." she grinned down at him from between her succulent globes. It was obvious that she was aware of her exposure, yet she showed no sign of self consciousness. "Let me know if I need to give you 'mouth to mouth'." she giggled.

Matt finally caught his breath, unwilling to blink at the spectacle above.

"You think you're ready for your shampooing?" Frida winked, once more leaning forward. The effects of gravity nearly dislodged her massive tits from their damp, meager confines as they closed in on Matt's face yet again.

"Deep breath, now!" he heard just before darkness and divine softness enveloped him.

Her warmth and suppleness massaged Matt's cheeks, nose and mouth as she lathered his thick hair in the sink. Frida would concentrate her scrubbing on different portions of his head, causing her torso to shift in the process. Matt felt her bosom slide to the left, dragging an erect nipple across his parted lips, still able to be identified beneath the stubbornly valiant lapel of her blouse. Her active hand movements caused her breast mass to wobble with hypnotic force before his eyes. Matt couldn't resist opening his mouth a little wider to allow her nipple to enter. He was just about to risk an exploratory caress with his tongue, when felt her torso shift again. This time her immense right breast rolled over upon his delighted expression. He felt her covered nipple poking the bridge of his nose. She adjusted herself several times, dragging her erect nub to various places on his face, almost as if it were seeking something. Matt was nearly trembling when her rigid nipple found his lips once again. Upon discovery, Frida's soft mass then suddenly bore down hard upon his face. Matt's slack jaw widened with the unexpected added pressure, letting an entire mouthful of delicious breast fat enter his maw. His tongue had no where else to land besides the surface of her areola. Matt's tongue tasted her wet cotton blouse as it swept across her raised nipple. He heard a brief, but distinct moan escape Frida from above him.

"Oh my! I keep forgetting that you need to breathe!" Frida exclaimed, raising herself up once more. "Phew! I guess I didn't want to stop!"

Matt's dazed grin peered up at her from between her bulbous globes as he took in deep breaths.

She gave him several more opportunities to breathe throughout the shampoo and rinse. Matt not only relished each time she leaned over to smother him, but also every time she raised herself to stand up straight again, for invariably her garment had relinquished its grip a little more every occurrence.

The hazelnut shade of her round, right areola was just peeking over the see through cotton horizon line, when Matt heard her say "I think your hair is clean enough. You can sit up now, sweetheart."

Matt made sure his solid erection wasn't poking up as he sat upright in his chair. Frida threw a towel over Matt's head and gave it a vigorous rub to dry his hair a bit.

The towel was snatched quickly from his head. His sight returned only to immediately be overwhelmed by the two barely concealed, massive breasts staring directly back into his eyes.

"I'm gonna need you to hold still and stare straight ahead, okay Jer-... excuse me, Matthew." she said, picking up a pair of scissors and a comb from the counter. Matt's low chair position happily meant that the spectacle of her gorgeous tits was required viewing of him.

"No problem, Frida!" Matt chirped.

Over the course of the following fifteen minutes, Frida went about trimming and combing Matt's hair with her giant breasts hovering within an outstretched tongue's length away. While she did, she regaled Matt with tales of happy memories of her life with his father. Matt was all smiles as he listened, casually taking occasional, longing gazes over her vast, barely concealed bosom. Frida went on in that manner, until she finally stepped back to take a final appraisal of her work. For the first time, Matt noticed her small, blue jean, cutoff shorts which showed off a generously appointed rear end and long, toned legs.

"Hmm." she said. "How about a shave too? Still looking a little scruffy here!" she said, playfully tickling his chin.

Matt was still in no condition to stand to his feet yet. His persistent erection had refused to relent throughout this entire process. "Yes, please, ma'am!"

Frida winced. "Ooo. I hate being called 'ma'am'. Makes me feel my age!"

"Sorry. Do you go by anything else besides 'Frida'?"

She smiled, demurely. "Jerry used to call me 'Jiggle Bear'." she tittered, bashfully.

"I can see why!" Matt thought as he swallowed, nervously. "Do... you want me to call you... 'Jiggle Bear'?" he asked.

Frida squealed, laughing, covering her face in her hands. "Oh my god! You sound just like him when you say it!" she giggled like a schoolgirl. "... say it again!"

Matt tried on his family signature smile, looking Frida deeply into her eyes. "Sure thing... 'Jiggle Bear'!"

He watched Frida's eyes roll back in her head as her lids closed. "Oh, Jerry...!" she moaned. Her hands caressed her own neck as her knees buckled beneath her. Her huge breasts compressed together between her upper arms, creating a spectacular display of cleavage bursting from the unbuttoned gap, her nipples finally peeking out into the open air.

Matt definitely wasn't expecting such a viscerally emotive reaction from her. "Whoa... I guess that smile really DOES work!" he thought to himself, feeling as though he had just discovered a superhuman ability.

Frida was slowly regaining her composure before him, shaking her head, dispelling the apparent waking dream state Matt had put her under. "I think maybe you should save that name for special occasions." she breathlessly conceded, pulling her lapels back over her exposed nipples.

"Okay... Frida." said Matt, pondering her definition of a 'special occasion'.

An old shaving kit was found among the nicknacks of Jerry's that Frida was unwilling to part with. Matt sat still as she applied the shaving cream to his cheeks and chin.

"Ever thought about keeping your mustache, Matthew?" she asked, gingerly dragging the razor blade against his cheek.

Matt cocked his eyebrows. "I don't know... I always thought it seems a little old fashioned looking on me."

"Oh no!" her wide eyes gazed into his. "You would look SO handsome with a mustache! You should give it a try!"

"Alright, Frida." Matt smiled. "I mean, if YOU think I'll look handsome, I'll definitely give it a shot!"

"Oh, you!" she blushed, leaning forward and kissing his forehead, inadvertently providing Matt with a spectacular view of her dangling wobblers. "You're going to turn me into a cradle robber if you keep up your sweet talking!"

Frida's labor continued until the majority of Matt's face was stubble free and smooth. She wiped the excess shaving cream off his chin, playfully placing a dollop on the tip of his nose. "Boop! All done, cutie patootie!" she exclaimed with a bright smile. Matt noted the lingering gaze she gave him when as she stepped back to appraise her efforts.

"I bet I look like a million bucks!" Matt grinned up at her. "Uhh... you said earlier you had something for me to wear...?"

"Yep, I sure do!" Frida gleefully exclaimed, retrieving a faded T-shirt and a pair of red shorts from the table. "These were your father's. I hope they fit!"

"Thanks! I'll go try them on in the bathroom." Matt said, preparing to stand from his chair.

"Hold on. Let me get this smock off of you." she said, stepping forward. As she reached behind his head to undo the snaps securing his cover, Matt's face was once again crowded by bare, delectable mammary fat. "You're such a good boy!" Frida exclaimed, bending over and placing another kiss, this time on his cheek, near the corner of his mouth. "I bet you were just the most pleasant child growing up!"

Frida removed, then held up the smock in front of Matt and gave it a shake to let his hair clippings fall to the linoleum floor. As she went about folding the large nylon sheet, her eyes drifted towards Matt's lap, then widened with surprise.

"My goodness!" she exclaimed,"I see you're definitely a full grown man, now!"

Matt's eyes instinctively flew down to his crotch. To his mortified surprise, he discovered that the towel he had been wearing beneath the smock had opened and separated during the course of the haircut. His strained, erect penis protruded from the gap in the terry cloth, taking in the open air. Matt's panicked hands clambered to cover his erect genitalia. "Sorry, Frida! Sorry!"

Frida giggled, fanning her face with her open palm. "Phew! I guess that's where the family resemblance ends!" she said, her eyes continually drifting to his covered lap. "You're certainly more well endowed than your father ever was... not that his size ever mattered to me. He was still a wonderful lover!"

"I'm big down there?" Matt pondered, silently. He had never had much reference to compare his penis size to anyone else's, besides the occasional male porno actor he saw on the internet. The partners that had seen it had all commented on his size, but he always assumed they were telling him what he (and all other guys) wanted to hear. Therefore, Matt had always assumed that his penis was of a fairly average size. A warm sense of pride washed over him at the discovery that his assumption may have been mistaken.

Matt bashfully stood up, holding his towel securely against his waist. "I'll... uh, go ahead and get changed." he said, grabbing the clothes Frida had left on the counter and heading towards the bathroom.

Frida examined her wet cotton blouse seemingly for the first time since her 'accident' at the sink. "I suppose I should dry off and change too."

On his way to the bathroom, Matt took a moment to examine the framed photos on the wall, giving his erection a chance to calm down. "Wow! I really do look like my dad... " he marveled at the Olan Mills picture print. "besides the old fashioned hair style and the mustache, that is." he mused.

Entering the bathroom and flipping on the light, Matt finally caught sight of his appearance in the mirror.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed. It seemed as though the same man he had just seen in the photos on the wall was now staring back at him through his own reflection. Matt's hair had been parted down the middle, just the way his father had worn in the pictures of his early life with Frida. His mustache was the exact shape and thickness as his late father's as well. Matt blinked at himself in disbelief, taking a moment to practice the infamous smile in the mirror.

The aged T-shirt Frida had brought him had a faded band logo on the front: 'Aerosmith '87'. It felt tight as he struggled to pull it down over his head. His short sleeves hugged his biceps and shoulders. His pectorals and muscular abdomen bulged from the tight fit. "Beggars can't be choosers, I guess." he conceded.

The red shorts Frida had chosen for him looked like runner's gear from mid 80's. Pulling the thin nylon shorts up over his bare ass (Frida had NOT provided underwear), Matt surmised that the trending style of the era must have been 'wide legged & ultra short. He gulped when he felt his dick and balls tumble out of the leg hole, dangling freely in the open.

"This isn't gonna work." Matt fretted, pulling his shorts down to cover up his now flaccid cock. The mushroom shaped tip of his dick barely crowned past the bottom hem of his shorts when he had finally given up trying to conceal himself. "It'll have to do." he thought, examining his reflection in the mirror. "This will all be for nothing if I get another boner!" he fretted. "Hopefully Frida has changed into something a little less revealing." Matt prayed.

He stepped timidly into the hall. "Oh, Frida?" he called out.

"In the dining room, honey!" her voice replied from beyond the door frame.

Matt shuffled into the room just as Frida was also arriving from the kitchen. Thankfully, she was wearing a white, oversized, men's dress shirt and holding a loaded photo album against her chest.

She froze like a deer in a pair of headlights when her wide eyes beheld Matt standing before her, wearing her beloved late husband's clothes, hair style and even his very face. Frida's jaw hung open as her brown eyes began watering. ".... Jerry!" she barely managed to speak above a whisper. The stuffed photo album she was carrying slipped through her dumbfounded grasp, falling to the floor, scattering its contents.

"Oh shit! Here I'll help!" Matt said, immediately starting to lower himself down to his knees to assist gathering up the strewn pictures.

"STOP!" Frida shouted. Her unblinking eyes still unable to tear themselves away from him. "Just... let me look at you!"

Matt anxiously stood, frozen in place, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. He watched her take a slow step toward him, then another cautious step. Her palms slowly reached out to touch his chest as she stepped closer yet again. Frida drank in the sight of Matt's dated appearance, her sparkling eyes traversing his entire face and body as if she was under a spell. She seemed to shudder in ecstasy when her palms made contact with Matt's tangible form. "You're real!" she gasped.

"Are you okay, Frida?" Matt asked, cautiously.

Her answer came in the form of a sudden, desperately clinging, open mouthed kiss on his lips.

Matt's muffled yelp was unheard as Frida voraciously pressed herself against him. Her arms wrapped tightly around him as her tongue wildly lashed inside his mouth. Matt's senses were flailing in panic as he attempted to contend with her sudden passion. He embraced her body against his, breathing deeply as his tongue swept against hers.

Suddenly, he watched Frida's eyes fly open wide and her movements immediately cease. Matt froze as she slowly pulled her mouth away from his, staring at him with a mournful expression. "No... you're not him... You're not my Jerry." she whispered.

Matt blinked at her, not quite sure what to say.

"I'm sorry." she said, releasing his body and taking a step back. "Told ya I had impulsivity issues." she chuckled quietly.

"S'ok! I'll help you pick these up!" Matt said hurriedly as he raced to knees in order to obscure his throbbing hard-on.

"I'm such a klutz, aren't I?" she said, kneeling down to join him on the floor. "I just brought these pictures out to show you your father and me."

"I'll be happy to see these once we get 'em picked up." Matt paused to regard the maturely beautiful woman as she quietly swept the photos into a pile before her. "I'm sorry I gave you such a shock just now." he said, quietly.