Breastfeeding Again

Mom has often been compared to Salma Hayek – she is Latina and just as beautiful with an amazing petite tight body and a gorgeous 34C rack that look great on her. When my friends and I started noticing girls, my friends would give me a hard time about how hot my mom was and I actually felt proud. Mainly because I knew that she WAS hot and their moms were fat and ugly. My usual response to them was “I wish I could say the same about your mom, but….” That would usually shut them up real quick.

They would always come up with some reason as to why they needed to come over, with excuses like needing to borrow a book or just to hang out, always asking if my mom would be home. During the summer it was even worse. Mom liked my friends and would actually jump into the pool with us, always with a modest one-piece suit. I’m sure she had an idea why they were there, but she never made anyone feel not welcomed.

From a young age, mom and I have been on our own. My mother and father first met at work. Dad was a 28 year old lawyer and mom was a high school senior working part-time helping out in the law office. My dad was the typical white American. Mom says he claimed to be Irish on St. Patty’s Day, Italian on Columbus Day, German during Oktober Fest, and made mom laugh when he ordered a croissant with a horrible French accent.

Mom appreciated when dad actually did the right thing and went to Grandma and Grandpa to ask for permission to date her, even though she was still in high school. My grandparents were originally from a small village in Mexico and had gotten married at a very young age. They gave their blessing and my parents started dating, albeit with her younger brother Alberto always tagging along as the chaperon.

One month after she graduated from high school, they were married and 2 years later, my mom gave birth to me, David. Dad was doing well at work and Mom was a loving being a stay-at-home MILF taking pictures of everything her baby boy did. When mom tells me the story, she always recalls how loving my father always was towards her and me, his pride and joy.

About four years later, dad went out on a camping trip and never came home. He was on a trip with a group of friends doing some rock wall climbing. My dad was really good and had actually been an instructor during law school to help pay for tuition. Most of his friends were starting to get into it because of him, but he was definitely the pro in his group. The story is that he started climbing higher than what they had planned on. No one is exactly sure what happened, but he lost his grip, the ropes were not properly secured and dad came crashing down.

He spent six months in a coma before passing away. It was a sad time for the family. My mom’s family really loved him. After his death, mom found out that he had made the necessary arrangements to ensure that we would be in good hands, financially. The house was paid off and there was no need for mom to work. She could continue being a stay-at-home mom.

I never left mom’s bed from the time I came home from the hospital. She had bought the crib and made up the nursery, but always kept me in bed with her. I’m sure dad was not happy about it. After dad died, she never kicked me out. For me, it was normal and it never felt odd. I always loved it when mom would hug me while we watched TV in bed. I felt safe and comfy. She was the big spoon with me bundled up in her arms as the little spoon.

By the time I was in high school, I had grown taller than her. I had joined the football team and my friends and I started weightlifting. Mom and I started alternating on who was going to be the big and little spoon. On one if these occasions, mom pressed her delicious round ass against my crotch and I started getting hard. By this time, I was enjoying sleeping with mom for different reasons than as a little kid. I was now always aware of what she was doing and wearing. It was a bit weird to juggle my feelings for her. I loved her as my mom, but I also enjoyed having a hot looking lady in my arms at night.

When her ass rubbed against my crotch, I’m sure she felt my hard cock poking her, but she said nothing. I couldn’t concentrate on what we were watching to save my life. After the movie was over, I went to the bathroom in the hallway and started jacking off to the memory of my mom’s nice ass grinding on my dick. I had been jacking off for a little over a year, and I came harder than I ever had. I felt like a pervert for jacking off to mom’s ass, but argued with myself that I couldn’t help it, she has a fucking nice ass. Just ask any of my friends or male teachers.

Later that same weekend, mom approached me, telling me that it was time I moved into my own bedroom. Her reasoning being that I was getting older and needed my privacy and so did she. I was not entirely in agreement with her and right away objected to it. Going back and forth, she compromised with me sleeping in my room during the week and with her Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. Still, I was not happy with it, but she made it clear the discussion was over. Take it or leave it. I chose to take it. We continued cuddling on weekends and I continued getting hard-on’s. I would go to the bathroom, masturbate, come to bed with mom and fall asleep. All was well.

A couple of years later, right before my senior year, my Grandpa passed away. It was a big blow to the whole family. Everyone loved him and we were a big family. Mom was not doing so well and I tried to be strong for her. After the funeral, we returned to Grandma’s house to gather as a family and show her our support and love. My mom’s younger sister, Alicia, was recently divorced and had moved in with them. It was comforting to know that Grandma would not be alone. While at the gathering, my Uncles were sitting around in the backyard talking and reminiscing about Grandpa and, of course, drinking. A flask was offered to me along with some encouragement, telling me it would put hairs on my chest. I took a sip and it burned my throat as it went down. I loved it!

It got late and mom came looking for me, telling we were leaving. When we got in the car, she obviously smelled the alcohol on my breath and made it crystal clear that I was not to be drinking, even if my Uncles said it was ok. I was buzzing hard and simply said okay while nodding my head.

I’m not sure why, I suppose the alcohol made me do it, but I decided to share a recurring dream with mom as we drove home.