The Most Beautiful Thing
Ch 1 — An Elbow to the Ribs
I think we all know my mom is hot. But this isn’t the kind of story where you find this out, and then the next thing…Oh, actually wait, no, it totally is. My bad.
My mom is white. Like, almost translucent white. I’m a little more earthy, getting it from my dad. But my mom is just pale, milky loveliness. And she … well, she’s pretty busty. Like, not crazy, just pretty damn busty. It was weird when I noticed that, but now that I’ve turned 18, it’s just normal. Normal that my mom has the body of a hot yoga instructor. Which is why it came as a shock to discover that my dad had been cheating on her for the last few years, with his administrative assistant, who frankly, couldn’t stand a candle to my mom. We met a couple of times. She was … just ok. But what the fuck do I know about it.
It took a few months for my mom to really process what was happening, and I think I still wasn’t done processing it, when it happened. It’s so weird too, because, I mean, it’s not like my parents didn’t have sex. I mean, they had me, right? But I don’t think I ever heard them. Which means that either they were super quiet, or … could they really not have had sex? Like for a decade? I mean, maybe they just waited until I was at sleepovers, or deeply asleep? So I was shocked when I first heard it.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. First off, I can remember exactly when I suddenly realized my mom was hot. My best friend at the time was Jed, and he was over at our house for dinner. My dad had just left, and my mom had been going all out on cooking, making desserts every day, making my favorite food, and letting me have friends over on a school night. Jed is a good guy but he’s a total dork. And he knocked over his drink. It splashed all across the table, and when my mom jumped up to avoid it, she ended up spilling her own drink. Hand to god, I swear. I know it’s like something out of a sitcom. So she jumps up, tosses her cup in the sink, grabs a towel, and zips back to the table, while I’m unsuccessfully trying not to laugh, and Jed is stuck, half standing, half sitting, trying to apologize but spluttering. My mom is wiping up the spill while telling him not to worry about it.
Then I feel al sharp pain in my right arm as Jed elbows me hard.
“What, dude?” I ask, looking at him. He just says “sorry” again, but he’s just staring. I follow his gaze. It’s just my Mom. Like, duh. I look back at him, he’s still looking. I look back and forth. My mom. Leaning over the table. Her top is clinging to her chest, and from this angle, you can see a fair amount of boob. And there is a lot of boob. I turn and punch him in the arm and scowl.
“Jed, grab a sponge dude. C’mon, don’t make my mom clean everything”. He snaps out of it, and everything goes back to normal. My mom scolds me for asking ‘our guest’ to help, changes her top, I get us all new sodas, dinner continues.
The whole thing took about 30 seconds.
That night, as young boys are likely to do, I beat off. And I couldn’t think about anything but those, those tits! And frankly, that was it. I snuck glances at my mom whenever I could. And frankly, I beat off to that image, and similar ones for quite a while. But it wasn’t until I was much older when I realized that I wasn’t just a horny boy thinking about the nearest female body. No, I was horny for my Mom.