The Theft of Our Lives -- Kellen

"That's true and they aren't, but can you really believe me, or any woman for that matter, just because she says so?" my assertive wife challenged, anxiously preparing herself for her next audacious gambit.

"But, you're my mom. You wouldn't lie," Kellen protested, bamboozled to the point he missed entirely where she was steering the impulsive debate.

"Sure, but other women might not be so trustworthy as your deal old mom. You can't be so naive in life, Kel," she sincerely imparted the motherly advice with a tongue-in-cheek twist. "You've heard the saying, 'trust, but verify.' Until you see them and, well, touch and hold them, you can't really be sure."

'Huhhh,' Emma paused, drawing a breath as the moment arrived for a brash, deliberate act -- one undeniably designed to cross the physical barrier on the path towards seducing Kellen, and as expected, she felt horrible.

"Kel, do you want to see them? Do you want to see my tits?" his circumspect mother asked demurely, unsure of our wary son's response to the unusual offer but recklessly extending it in furtherance of her sinful objective.

Resolute in accomplishing her mission, Emma didn't wait for an answer, turning the question rhetorical by not giving Kellen an opportunity to come to his senses out of a deeply ingrained respect for his beloved mother. She knew that's exactly what he would do given enough time and she simply couldn't afford to let that happen.

Instead, Emma swiftly undid the remaining three buttons on her blouse, pulling away the cloth covering her sizable breasts and gracefully removing the garment before Kellen's disbelieving eyes. Sitting fully upright, she proudly pushed her splendid melons forward to their fullest advantage.

"Oh-ohhh!" Kellen gasped reflexively, truly shocked, and mesmerized, and simply unable to answer, never actually seeing real breasts before and certainly not his mother's spectacular pair.

In fact, until recently he'd never even seen her without a bra.

"So, do my tits look real to you?" she bravely inquired, gazing directly at our dumbfounded son with his gaping eyes glued to her outthrust chest.

While Kellen is inexperienced, he's not stupid. He has eyes. He knows his mom is stacked and that her substantial tits rivaled anything he'd seen online. Once, he even rummaged through her underwear drawer at Tim's behest learning just 'how big' they are, noting the '37DD' tag definitively revealing the illicit answer.

Now, they looked even bigger than he realized, featuring a beautiful slope yet set prominently upright, full and round with her thick rose nipples perfectly drawn and erect, as if she were cold in the warm room, when in fact she was terribly aroused by her outrageous display.

'Oh, my god, I'm showing my breasts to my son,' Emma screamed with horror inside, struggling mightily to remain outwardly calm as if this was no big deal.

Things were moving quickly, and much faster than anything Emma had anticipated, but she knew Hank's ultimate goal and the clock was ticking, so decided to continue since she was making good progress.

Emma's hands trembled apprehensively in contemplating her next drastic move. She had momentum on her side and Kellen at a disadvantage so, acting before she lost her nerve, my brazen wife took his hand in her and unsteadily placed his palm firmly under the base of her hefty right breast.

"Of course, you can't really be sure unless you touch them, um, feel them and squeeze them," she breathlessly explained in a voice sounding more confident than her fluttering heart would attest, and more importantly, signally it was okay to do those very acts.

Now, Kellen was speechless, his jaw dropping with a frozen expression of astonishment while feeling the warm skin of his mother's enormous tit.

"Huh-huh, huhhh," he barely breathed, with the fleshy melon heavy in his palm and much denser than he ever imagined, yet at the same time, it was soft and spongy, spilling from his open hand.

Emma wavered in her seat as well, also barely breathing and fighting the urge to berate herself and apologize profusely. Instead, she simply let him hold her huge breast, sorrowfully knowing she'd put it there, and frightfully, that it felt good.

Shamefully, in the past few weeks many people -- friends and strangers alike, had touched, held, squeezed, and bobbled her healthy jugs, with the inviting set a prime attraction to the lewd men. None of those sordid experiences, however, felt as bizarre as our curious son cupping her jiggling boob.

It was surreal and Emma felt out-of-body, as if watching him grope some other woman's pliable breast. Despite her angst and regret, she encouraged Kellen, fearing without it he'd shy away once recognizing how wrong it was for a son to touch his mother so intimately.

"Go ahead, Kel, squeeze my tit. Lift it and hold it. Get a sense it's weight. Do you see how it feels like jello?" his mother edified, blushingly gave a lesson in gauging the quality of a woman's breasts.

Wondrous with awe, Kellen hypnotically followed her instructions as he had all his life, on autopilot earnestly squishing and jostling the magnificent pale globe.

"That's how a real breast feels, son. If it were fake, it would be hard and solid," Emma concluded, imbuing him with the confidence needed to believe that feeling her up acceptable behavior.

Growing secure in his education, Kellen tentatively squeezed her gelatinous mound, gently grasping the flesh between his fingers, but careful not to do so too roughly without knowing if it hurt his patient mother. Entranced, he scooped beneath the soft under-boob in fascination, lifting as she'd directed while assessing the weight of her ponderous melon.

"Go ahead, Kel, touch the other one too. They're both the same," she spurred sinfully.

As awful as she felt urging him to feel her up, Emma couldn't get past how nice his hands were -- warm and tender as he softly took her left breast as he had the right, gingerly massaging and curiously exploring her bountiful jugs.

'He's so much gentler than those assholes,' she marveled internally with a perverse mother's pride assessing how Kellen played with her tits compared to the many aggressive cads of her recent past.

"Huuhhh," she involuntarily exhaled, increasingly affected by the caring examination, with difficulty controlling her breathing under the caresses but doing her best not to make any sudden movements scaring him off.

Instead, Emma pushed forward despite her troublesome emotional tension, even as the depraved nature of the act remained ever-present in the back of her mind.

"It's okay to play with my nipples too, Kel. Tweak them, you know, pinch them a little," Emma invited in a welcoming tone. "Most girls like that, just not too hard."

Absolutely lost in what he was doing, it was surprising he even heard his reassuring mother, yet alone followed her direction he was so focused on her expansive breasts.

'Whew,' her breathing grew heavier with her chest rising and falling in time with each inhale and exhale.

Obediently, Kellen took the diamond hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger, compressing the sensitive nubs with a light touch sending a shiver up her spine. When she didn't flinch in pain, he increased the pressure on the taut buds, pinching and tugging as they tightened into dense points under his touch.

"Oooooh," she cooed spontaneously as a tinge of electricity sparked her rousing nipples despite her outward calm.

Emma has exquisitely sensitive nipples and Kellen's tweaking her swelling tips incited jolts of arousal shooting throughout her torso. Even though it was our own enthralled son manipulating them so erotically, she couldn't help but develop a tingling wetness between her legs.

'Oh my god, this is awful. This is my son. I shouldn't feel this way,' she bemoaned in silent alarm, terribly conflicted at the depraved act as his agreeable hands brought her to a heightened state of sexual excitement.

Yet, she did feel that way, engrossed in the pleasant sensation and unable to deny how good it felt, especially since Kellen was so respectful kneading her heavy breasts and not abusive like the many uncaring men mauling them as if disconnected from a real woman.

'I need to break away,' Emma realized, becoming overwhelmed by the compelling sensation of his caressing hands.

She wanted this evening to go slow, hoping to tease and entice Kellen as Hank wanted, knowing full-well where this was leading in due time but not truly anxious to arrive and torn by the dire consequences to our family for failure.

"Whew, okay. I think you've got the idea," she assured, taking his hands into her own seeking to regain control and return to the whole point of the demented experiment in touching.

"So, now you know they're real, do you still think mommy has a great rack?" my deliberate wife asked, pointedly referring to herself as 'mommy' in re-establishing her parental position, but also keeping the forbidden nature of the contact bubbling just below the surface.

"They're awesome," Kellen exclaimed in an awestruck guy's way with an inappropriate exuberance.

"Why, thank you, kind sir. Hopefully as nice as some of the MILFs on the internet?" Emma replied politely with an affected grace, noting his ardent enthusiasm with a mix of sadness and self-satisfaction.

It was another rhetorical question, but Kellen heartily nodded in agreement.

"I wonder if Tim would think so? Maybe I should get his opinion too?" his taunting mother ribbed, saucily suggesting the indecent proposition.

Emma wasn't sure why she threw this last little tease into the conversation, but secretly the thought turned her on, and it was almost as if she was encouraging Kellen to tell his best friend about his mother's great tits to see what happened.

So sexually provoked by the taboo experience, the naughty idea of Kellen's handsome buddy fulfilling his lifelong fantasy of seeing and holding his modest, big-titted ex-scouting den mother's breasts in such a forbidden way held a certain appeal for Emma.

"Seriously, mom?" Kellen impugned, unsure whether to believe his mischievous mother or not.

"Well, I'll have to think about that, but I'll bet he would," she responded tauntingly, keeping the prospect tantalizingly in reserve but also in the fevered mind of our rattled son.

Emma now contemplated her next step, having broken the physical barrier letting Kellen play with her big, pillowy breasts, but sensing she needed to do something to reciprocate, as merely gripping his slack cock through his shorts as she had the night before wasn't nearly the same league of where things need to go.

Terribly horny after Kellen's exploration of her responsive tits and wet between the legs, she thought briefly about introducing him more formally to her pussy just as she had her ample chest. Shamefully, Emma had little doubt that if she showed Kellen what to do with an erect clitoris, she'd find a much-needed orgasm even at the fumbling fingers of our inexperienced son.

That was rather self-serving however, and Emma understood her own gratification didn't necessarily aide in achieving her goal for the evening. Further, she was afraid of going too fast too soon, and sparking his principled conscience or worse, scaring him away.

My smart wife knew she needed to touch our impressionable son in an improper but sexually provocative way to really break through and create a sense of mutual trust and forbidden lust. Decisively, she acted, pushing Kellen's shoulders until pressed against the sofa cushion.

"Huh, what?" he gasped, struggling briefly but easily overpowered in his befuddled and somewhat willing state, with his recent experience of holding his mother's breasts so overwhelming he didn't really resist.

Facing Kellen, tensely breathing with the nervousness of her next move, Emma's gloriously large tits swayed before Kellen hypnotically, his dazed eyes never leaving the sight of her lovely breasts as she looked first into our sprawling son's unwavering eyes and then at his lap and finding exactly what she expected after her indecent teasing.

Kellen's shorts stretched obscenely at the seam with what looked to be a painfully hard erection, and with a wistfully coquettish approach designed not to unnerve our tottering youth, his toying mother delightfully declared her surprise at the impressive outline of the hidden column straining for freedom.

"Why Kellen James Tyler, did playing with mommy's big tits do that to you?" she exclaimed girlishly, staring flagrantly at his obvious hard-on.

Kellen looked to the bulge at the front of his pants but said nothing, flushed with embarrassment and frightfully ashamed at becoming hard from the taboo act but paralyzed to inaction about what to do.

"I had no idea you found me so, um, arousing. I guess I must truly be a MILF. Is that what you want, Kellen, for me to be your MILF?" Emma purred seductively, pushing to the extremes of propriety with the leading question.

"Ummm, mom, I, uhh," he stuttered and tarried, as horny as his topless mother after feeling and squeezing the forbidden playground of her ample tit flesh but unready for the implications of the disreputable acronym.

As an unsophisticated youth taught to respect and obey his virtuous mother, it was extremely awkward for him having her see his erection and drawing attention to it. Aware of his palpable distress, Emma brazenly assumed the role of the woman solving all his problems, just as she had his entire life.

"Well, that's asking a lot, I suppose, but I should at least take care of this for you," she offered surprisingly, nodding towards Kellen's straining cock.

"Huhhh?" our startled youngster gasped in confusion.

"Mommy caused it, let mommy handle it," Emma prescribed, easily assuming her 'mommy' control again, along with the knack for double entendre she'd picked up from Hank.

Acting without thinking to avoid any internal recrimination before it took root, his mother assertively grasped the elastic waistband of Kellen's baggy shorts and tugged, removing them and his boxers to his knees before he even knew what happened.

Immediately, Kellen's dense pole popped up and down, bouncing on his abdomen with its sudden liberation from the constricting pants.

"Ohhh mom! What are, um, I don't?" he protested at an absolute loss for what to do at the unprecedented dropping of his drawers by his unusually aggressive mother.

Shocked and caught off-guard by her bizarre behavior but also pacified by a deeply-rooted deference to do as she said, our reeling youth did nothing to cover himself.

"Ohhh my," Emma sighed involuntarily, fixating on the solid meat pulsing before her eyes, her anguish and shame set aside momentarily, while deep down disgracefully pleased and secretly intrigued by our athletic son's remarkable tool.

Fueled by wine and her own growing arousal, Emma couldn't suppress an inappropriate mother's pride at his generous endowment, thinking his burgeoning manhood was good-sized for an 18-year-old kid. Nothing like Nate or Ike to be sure, but Kellen showed great promise.

As importantly, and although she'd never say this to his face for fear of insulting his masculinity, our maturing son's iron-bar cock was pretty.

Straight and stalwart, it featured a rounded light purple crown and a hearty veined shaft with soft pinkish white skin anchored by two golf ball-sized testicles. The attractive package was nestled in a good growth of auburn pubic hair, much the same color as his sister's curly pussy fur.

Conveniently forgetting just whose cock she was admiring so appreciatively; Emma was very tempted to simply take the lovely member into her mouth, before quickly returning to reality.

Instead, she fought back the need to cry at the prospect of improperly sucking our handsome young son's sturdy cock, recognizing that while it might not happen tonight, at some point in the very near future performing that awful deed, and undoubtedly many other unsavory acts with our trusting son, was necessary in pursuit of Hank's impure objective.

"You might want to take off that shirt, Kel, this could get messy," she advised in a distinctly maternal tone, again setting aside her outrage for the greater good of preserving our family.

Obediently, he did, exposing his muscular chest and six-pack stomach on equal display with his tensing pole in a compelling vision of masculine perfection inescapable to Emma as a woman, rather than as a mother.

Deciding outright sex was going too far for Kellen's muddled brain, and unable quite yet to give our son the blowjob she knew was in the offing before long, Emma figured a handjob was sufficient to break the physical barrier of mother and son while letting her refrain from more sordid contact.

Delicately wrapping her fingers around his throbbing shaft, the indecent touching sent a shiver through her restive body and also a jolt of discomfort up his reclining frame at the unwholesome nature of the contact.

"Ahhh, ohh, mom," Kellen winced almost as if in pain, with his hips jerking involuntarily to the electric pulse running from his pelvis to the farthest extremities from her unnatural grip.

A queasiness overcame my wife as the taboo boundary was forever broken, but Emma fought her nausea back by concentrating on how nice his hard cock felt in her lightly clenched palm -- pulsing with vitality and youth, while soft, warm, and firm and so much nicer than all the older men.

Kellen merely stared at the unimaginable sight, frozen in awe and squirming with confused excitement at the indecent grip. No one other than himself had ever touched his cock, and certainly not when it was rock hard. Regardless, his mother's gentle fingers felt unbelievable and far better than his rough hand ever had.

Too much better, perhaps, and it was probably best that Emma put off the blowjob for another time, because Kellen wouldn't have lasted a second within his mother's silken mouth.

Instead, she encased his inflamed staff fully in her supple palm, languidly running her loose fingers along the solid length and drawing the ends gingerly around his purplish cockhead upon reaching the tip, then gently easing down his swollen shaft again.

It was a splendidly effective handjob in a caring display of maternal love completely in contradiction to the genuinely obscene nature of the act.

"Ohhh, oh mom!" Kellen yelped, hyperventilating, and struggling to wrap his brain around what was happening.

"Relax, Kel, mom will take care of it," my compassionate wife calmly soothed, sensing his stress while fluidly drawing her fingers deliberately up his straining length and trailing lightly across his swollen crown again.

"Uhhh, ohhh," Kellen huffed responsively, watching her slender hand ply his pulsating shaft and perceptively torment his expansive glans, smearing the precum as a lubricant across the delicate skin to compelling effect.

"It's okay, son, mom will make you feel better," she repeated with motherly reassurance as if bandaging his wounds when he was younger.

Not surprisingly, it didn't take long for 'mom to take care of it.'

Emma's soft hand smoothly gliding along the sensitive surface of his thick staff, combined with her lilting voice of encouragement and the lewd sight of her sitting topless stroking him off created an unbelievably erotic performance making our apoplectic son no match for the indescribably taboo handjob.

"OHH, OOHHH, UUNNGHH!" Kellen's ecstatic cry of release filled the room.

Jerking spastically, our contorting son shot a fountain of pearly white cum straight into the air, landing on his chest with a plop and dripping viscously onto his attentive mother's pumping hand.

"Uuunnhhh, uuhhh, oh mom, oh mom, I, uh, ohhh," he called as a second, and then a third long rope of rich, vital jism soon followed, spurting from the tip of his cockhead, with each burst not quite as high as the previous launch.