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I can't begin to describe how much my life has changed these past couple of year

s. I wonder sometimes if I am going to be ruined for any other woman because of


my relationship with my mother; yet I can't seem to think about anything else. M
y heart starts racing even as I write this, knowing Mom told me to tell our stor
y, and she is waiting to read it. It started when I was 18 and in my last year o
f high school. My mom was 39 and to everyone's surprise, including her own, she
got pregnant. I honestly didn't even know my parents did anything that often, as
they fought a lot and he was either working outside or spending time with his f
riends. I never understood it because my mom was like a throwback to the 1950's,
only more fun. She did everything around the house and treated my dad like a ki
ng. Waited on him, did all the laundry and cooking and cleaning; in addition to
her 9-5 job as a legal clerk. Only thing he did was "man" stuff like fix things
and take care of the yard. He was not a bad guy he just did not spend time or ap
preciate her like he should have.Anyway, I was busy a lot that last year of scho
ol, and I did not take the time to help out around the house until mom was in th
e last 3 months of her pregnancy. I played football and was involved with stuff
at school, but I was not overly popular with girls or guys. Once football season
was over, I started to hang around more at home.I don't know what it was, but m
y mom looked absolutely stunning to me all of a sudden. I had never once paid at
tention to a pregnant woman, unless I saw one on a beach or something, but there
was just something amazing about seeing mom with her belly getting so big. She
was still very active; going to yoga classes after work, shopping, taking care o
f the house and generally not slowing down one iota. She dressed very sexy, or a
t least what I considered very sexy, for a woman that was six or seven months pr
egnant. Mom shunned those baggy clothes and seemed delighted with her new found
shape. Snug, form-fitting, yet classy blouses, sweaters and skirts for work; tig
ht leggings and jeans, with sexy tops for weekends. And those flannel or silk "j
ammies" as she called them were too much for me at times. Running around bare fo
ot, bending over the oven or to pick something up; catching a glimpse of her bar
e belly and her swelling breasts.I can not tell you how embarrassed I was on mor
e than one occasion when she caught me ogling her while serving dinner or loungi
ng on the couch. Mom would simply smile and go about her business, but inevitabl
y she would make eye contact with me later and I would feel myself turning beet
red. Was it my imagination when she started leaning over me more when serving di
nner? Or when she started sitting next to me on the loveseat, tucking her feet u
nder her, but in my direction; instead of sitting in her usual spot on the couch
? And as the weeks went by, did she really need more help from me and not Dad ar
ound the house? Asking me to pull things down from the cabinets or carry the lau
ndry downstairs to the basement. She would always give me a little brush on the
arm or a kiss on the cheek, but never really look me in the eye or give me anyth
ing extra to go on. She was just being my sweet mom.I wanted to be around her mo
re than ever now. I had always been kind of shy, which is why I went out for spo
rts, but even that never took the edge away. Being with mom was the only place I
felt completely safe and able to be myself; whether that be serious or silly or
angry or even sad. I took it upon myself to start waiting on her like she alway
s did for me and Dad. I felt guilty that I had never done this before. The first
time I did it, I just fixed her a drink while I was fixing mine. She looked at
me for a second like I was from another planet, and then she just smiled.After t
hat I would always ask if I could do something for her or help out. I started al
l the daily chores, and actually became what she said was a mother hen. As her b
elly was now huge, I did not want her moving a muscle. I also realized so
mething else at that time. It made me feel more like a man to take care of her.
Dad thought I was plain stupid for doing so much especially when I had my own th
ings to do. And he thought I was even crazier when I no longer complained when s
he asked for someone to go to the store with her. I offered to go for her instea
d now. She started making little comments to him about at least someone cares ab
out helping her and stuff like that. Dad would get pissed on occasion, but norma
lly it looked like he hadn't even heard her over the television.I would watch Mo
m waddle around in front of me at the grocery store or the Costo's, picking out

things for the family. On these outings she would always make sure she got each
of us a favorite treat that Dad would not know about. Some extra cookies or ice
cream, or we would stop off and have a quick lunch someplace out.She was beautif
ul already, but the pregnancy made her even more so. Dirty-blond, shoulder-lengt
h hair, small lips and a cute little nose, with the prettiest blue-green eyes I
had ever seen. She wore just enough eye makeup to make her eyes "pop" which gave
her a little bit of a naughty appearance as well. Mom could tell I was enthrall
ed by her, and she began to flaunt it as she entered her ninth month. Almost eve
ry night now, she would ask me to rub her feet or her shoulders. She was home al
l day now and not working, so would have a snack ready for me when I got home. I
think she loved me telling her that she shouldn't be doing anything for me at a
ll and then watching me as I made over her for the next twenty minutes by fluffi
ng the couch pillows and fixing a drink or something for her too.On numerous occ
asions she would get all excited and call me over to feel the baby kicking. She
would hold my hand on her tummy and watch for my reaction. More often than not t
here would be nothing to feel except for her. She must have known that I was alm
ost overcome by being able to touch her bare skin there; that it had nothing to
do with the baby; even though that was kind of neat to be honest.So, Mom ended u
p having my baby sister, Vicki, right around Christmas and for the next few week
s, I continued to hover. Even Dad helped out more than usual. Mom was not one to
stay down though so she was up and trying to get back to her old routine in jus
t a few days. She was surprised when I continued to chip in even after she told
me she was fine now.Four months later mom had her shape back pretty much. All ex
cept her breasts which still looked way too big for her little frame, and her tu
mmy which had a slight, soft pooch to it around her mid section. I was mortified
when one day she caught me staring at her running on the treadmill in the basem
ent. I was fixated to her bouncing boobs and the large wet spots from her sweati
ng made me so hard I couldn't get off the bench. She looked down at her chest an
d blushed when she saw where my eyes were focused. But instead of chastising me
or covering herself up, she just kept running, wiping the sweat from her forehea
d and chest with a towel and smiling at me."I can't believe how much they've fil
led out, can you?" she said. I couldn't believe she had just said that so openly
. She saw the look on my face as I turned my face away and attempted to keep lif
ting again. "Well I can't. I was happy with my 36-C's thank you very much."I did
n't say anything; I was much too ashamed that I had been caught looking."And the
y are just too heavy to do all this running." She slowed the treadmill down to a
crawl to bring herself down. "They make my back hurt. In addition to all this m
ess,' she said in a disgusted voice.
I abruptly turned to see what she was referring to. She was looking down at her
chest and instead of just the wet spot at her cleavage there were too very dark
spots around the front of each breast as well. Stupid as I was, it actually took
me a few seconds to realize what it was!Mom stepped off of the treadmill and ra
n the towel underneath each breast, restrained in that too small, gray sports br
a. She lifted each one right there in front of me, seemingly not paying attentio
n to me at all; and swiped away the moisture underneath. I couldn't move. I was
glued to the bench as I watched her (and tried not to watch her) all the while m
y cock growing to ever larger proportions.At last she finished wiping herself as
dry as she could and she bent down a couple of times to stretch out her legs. H
er body was incredible. You couldn't tell she had even had a baby! Then she stoo
d up she gave me another shock. She winked at me and said "Don't work yourself t
o hard, Baby." She emphasized the hard part.I couldn't help but watch her ass sw
ay as she walked across the room and went up the stairs. Had she seen how hard I
was? Was that what she was referring to? No way, I told myself. I was upset bey
ond reason that she had seen me hard, if she had. But there was no way I could b
elieve she was ok with it; not knowing it was from watching her!For the next few
days I felt like every time I looked at her she was already looking back at me.
I couldn't even get through an entire meal anymore because of her being so clos
e to me and me trying to forget what I had seen that day. What was more, she had
been very open from the time she brought the baby home; openly breastfeeding in

front of me and Dad no matter where we were in the house or car. She would ofte
n switch Vicki to her other breast after a while and leave the first one complet
ely exposed. Mom never made eye contact while doing this. She would always be ta
lking or singing to the baby. These were the times that I allowed myself to look
from the corner of my eye and take in the sight of Mom's beautiful breasts.Ther
e was something about those blue veins and all the little bumps around the nippl
es, wet and swollen from my sister sucking so vigorously. I knew I shouldn't hav
e been watching her, but I couldn't help myself. I let myself look longer and lo
nger until even when she got up and left the room carrying Vicki, both breasts s
till wet and half exposed, my eyes would follow her every step of the way. By th
e time that day on the treadmill had come, Mom had caught me looking more than a
few times and every time I shied away, she would tell me it was ok to look. No
harm in looking. She knew I was curious, etc. I would feel guilty again, and the
n the burning in my body would take over and make me steal another glance. Mom w
ould sit there in the rocker beside the couch, bare legs crossed; my baby sister
hungrily sucking on one breast, while her tiny fingers reached for the other. T
oo many times I thought to myself that I wished it was me reaching out like that
. To just touch it for a fleeting second with one finger would be enough to last
a life time.It was during one of these daydreams, me sitting at the dining room
table trying to keep my mind on studying, that my life would change.Mom was tal
king to Vicki and rocking her to sleep. She had already switched from her left b
reast to her right. She was wearing shorts, and her legs looked so smooth. Her t
oes were painted a dark pink, and I was watching her moving her one foot to and
fro to aid her in the rocking when I heard what she was saying."You are so hungr
y today aren't you Baby?" She was talking to my sister of course. "My little pig
gy, yes you are!" She glanced my way and smiled before turning

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