Then for some inexplicable reason I started to develop a regular ache in my balls which I had never experienced before. I had what I thought was a reasonable stash of porn - magazines, videos and DVDs. Like most guys I had been masturbating for some years. Don't most sons' at one time or another? This story is actually about how those fantasies, quite unexpectedly became a reality. She had quite a voluptuous frame with largish boobs that definitely filled out anything she wore (I found out later she was a size 38DD), and a good-sized rear end - not gross, but quite a nice full, curvy bottom.Īnd if you were going to ask me 'Did I ever fantasize about my mom sexually?' my answer would be yes, of course. She had filled out, so to speak, as many women do in their late forties and fifties, but she did still have curves and a figure of sorts. Mom at 55, was 5'6", with dark hair, which she liked to keep in a bun, and a dress size of between 12 and 14. I didn't think I was bad looking, but I had never really made it with girls up to then, and never had a girlfriend. I was 5'8" average to heavy build with dark hair, and I wore glasses. Looking back, I think that was a mistake in some ways, but as this story unfolds, you might think otherwise.īefore I go on, some descriptions. It was either that, or the guilt I would feel by moving out. I'd argue back and then she'd sulk or not talk to me for ages until I came round to her way of thinking. Sometimes she would fly off the handle over the smallest thing. And that meant losing my freedom, and having to cope with mom's controlling ways, and her moodiness and temperament. We had no other family close by, so I felt obliged to stay on at home and go to my local college rather than move away. Now, at the age of 18 when I just wanted to break free and experience life, I felt guilty about leaving her alone. She was also quite prudish and straight laced. The problem for me in all of this was that I had been over protected, and mom had a fiery temper, and would be very controlling. And now mom just wanted to stick to working in her job of many years as a librarian until she retired, enjoying her garden, and the occasional women's institute gathering, a few female friends and of course taking care of her only precious child - yours truly. Anyway, it all finally ended with a divorce and with me as an only child. They had argued a lot - as far back as I could remember, and enough for me to get sick of it. She'd married quite late compared to others in her generation at 35, been my father's second wife and it seemed he'd only married her to have someone cook and clean and provide some carnal satisfaction. My mom had a tough life until she divorced. 'One man in my life has been quite enough'. 'Not after all the trouble your father gave me' she would continue. She'd given up on men, 'I'm not giving myself to another man' she would say angrily, when I'd suggest she maybe try meeting someone. My mom, Margaret Addington, or Marge as she liked to be known, had divorced three years back, and now at 55, in the prime of her life, she had become a bit of a recluse. Ok, so I had a few issues back then, but doesn't everyone at 18? For me most of these issues revolved around my mom being temperamental and difficult, and the way I had been brought up. My name is Jacob and I'm just a regular kind of guy. My problem started soon after I had just turned 18. I cannot confirm whether this story is purely a work of fiction or has elements of truth.
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