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A wide, black velvet choker held a tiny, antique cameo clasped around her narrow throat, it's aged, yellowed surface making it impossible to tell if the brooch was made from bone, or ivory or well-worn stone.The clinging, noodle-strapped, black dress she wore had a subtly sheer quality to it that gave the impression the right lighting conditions could render it transparent and I was almost certain she wasn't wearing a bra underneath.We've known each other since grade school pretty much and have kept ourselves mostly insulated from normal folks. Her dad was a security guard for one of the local grade schools and her mom sold Amway or Mary Kay or something like that. She was adamant about "saving herself for marriage"..her mother loved to remind me every time I came over. I'm not sure exactly when she went from being "mom" to being a "milf", but it feels like those thoughts have always been there, vaguely wandering around the back of my mind.Normal folks don't care about the quality of arcade ports, or covet the Wand of Orcus or know why they should always carry a towel. We used to study together and just sort of agreed without really saying anything that we were dating after I starting coming to her house to work on our algebra equations and she'd kiss my cheek when I left. We broke up over the summer and they moved away a few months into eleventh grade. I was an only child and I was breastfed, so that may have played into it, especially since my mom's highly affectionate and loving.I can still remember the feel of her heavy, warm breasts smooshing against my chest when she'd lean down to kiss me while tucking me into bed.And the way her shapely figure was silhouetted by the hallway light as she left my room, the gossamer fabric of her silken nightgown clinging to her lush curves.She liked to wear tight shirts and loose skirts, didn't like to wear panties too often and only strapped her plump boobs into her 36DD bras when she had to go out in public.
Here's the story of how I had sex with my own mother.Oh, don't get me wrong, I'd have happily fucked any of them that offered. Like actually being interested in their shoes or trying to explain any of my hobbies? It was really easy to get good, long looks at all her most womanly parts sometimes, so as puberty kicked in and I discovered masturbation, she became prime jerk-off fantasy material.