He couldn’t seem to keep from thinking of his mother as a woman, like she was a potential girlfriend. As she was wiping down the counters, Stephen found himself once again studying his mom’s trim figure, her graceful movements, the sweetness of her apple bottom.įrank came in with a petulant look on his face and retrieved his own beer, bitching as he returned to the den. After a few minutes, Frank whined again for a beer. Stephen watched with amusement as his mom pretended not to hear his dad. From the other room, the pair heard Frank loudly whine, “Gail, I want a beer!” Stephen cleared the table while his mother loaded the dishwasher.
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It was either that or punch the prick in his face.Īfter dinner, Frank buried his nose in Sports Illustrated, the tv remote in his lap. He ignored the gloating look on his father’s face. “Shit!,” he thought to himself, “I shouldn’t be thinking of my mom like that!”įeeling unsettled, he quickly took the ketchup bottle to the table.
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She was so loving, giving and forgiving, warm, full of life, beautiful and sexy.īut every time he caught himself appreciating his mother’s assets, he was overcome with shame. He thought, for the millionth time, how lucky he would be if he could find someone like his mom. Stephen enjoyed the view as long as he could. Her lush cleavage, the creamy tops of her breasts, the black lace of her bra…black lace bra? Stephen felt his balls tingle at the sight. At that angle, he had the perfect view down her shirt. The action squeezed her breasts together slightly, which drew Stephen’s attention. Gail put her hands up to her son’s face, cradling it. I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.” Then he rested his forehead on hers and said, “I’m sorry, Mom. He followed her to the kitchen and took the ketchup bottle out of her hand.
Stephen was mortified at the angry tone he had used. Gail hopped up immediately and went for the ketchup. Like this stupid game why didn’t she…, “Just get the damn ketchup, Mom.”
The more he thought of the disregard and disrespect she took, the madder he got. Stephen didn’t like the way his dad treated his mom. He didn’t think it was a fun game, though, and he’d had enough. This was a game that Stephen had watched his parents play for a few years now. Stephen’s mom, Gail, a petite brunette with a trim figure and a usually-ready smile, said peevishly, “I just sat down Frank. His dad, Frank, grey haired and tired-looking, asked his wife, “Get the ketchup, eh?” Stephen and his parents sat down to eat dinner.