Mother, may I

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Sonny struggled vainly to unhook his mother's bra.

She said, "There must be a loose thread caught."

Loose thread, hell. His fingers were rubber, that was the trouble, and his cock was so hard it hurt.

His mother, Kit, wore only bra and panties. She was sitting on the chintz-covered bench before her makeup table, leaning toward the mirror, brushing mascara onto her eyelashes.

His mother, Kit, was the prettiest woman in town. Silky red hair clouded about her pouty, babyish face. The blackened lashes shaded wide brawn eyes. A sliver of pink tonguetip showed between slick, full lips. And her shape! Men in the neighborhood called her Mrs. Pretty Tits. Sonny could see her boobies in the mirror, stretching her bra like they were trying to bust out of it. The rosy crowns were pointed puffs in the transparent nylon.

He tried to keep his gaze riveted to the bra hooks and her back.

But even her back was so luscious that the sight of it had made his cock grow out like a hammer handle stretching his shorts.

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