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She started to tuck it all away a little more as I got older and she began to notice my lingering gazes, so naturally I starting finding ways to get my looks in when she didn't know I was looking.
Peeping on her getting in and out of the shower or dressing for work or catching her and dad having sex became a bit of an obsession some weeks.
I have a real thing for the sexy, innocent vulnerability of sleeping girls. When I properly hugged her close, she fit right up under my chin, which I felt was the best height for a girl.
And to catch her in bed when she thought she was truly all alone and she got her little pink toy out of it's hiding place under the nightshirts in the back corner of her dresser's bottom drawer...well, that was one of my fondest dreams. Her auburn hair was lusciously thick and fell past her waist when she didn't have it up in some fetching style.
We've known each other since grade school pretty much and have kept ourselves mostly insulated from normal folks. Her dad was a security guard for one of the local grade schools and her mom sold Amway or Mary Kay or something like that. She was adamant about "saving herself for marriage"..her mother loved to remind me every time I came over. I'm not sure exactly when she went from being "mom" to being a "milf", but it feels like those thoughts have always been there, vaguely wandering around the back of my mind.
Normal folks don't care about the quality of arcade ports, or covet the Wand of Orcus or know why they should always carry a towel. We used to study together and just sort of agreed without really saying anything that we were dating after I starting coming to her house to work on our algebra equations and she'd kiss my cheek when I left. We broke up over the summer and they moved away a few months into eleventh grade. I was an only child and I was breastfed, so that may have played into it, especially since my mom's highly affectionate and loving.
A wide, black velvet choker held a tiny, antique cameo clasped around her narrow throat, it's aged, yellowed surface making it impossible to tell if the brooch was made from bone, or ivory or well-worn stone.
The plush, feminine curves of her body said she'd worked hard to reclaim her figure after having a kid, but she had earned the right to the occasional cheeseburger and beer without feeling ashamed about it.
She liked to wear tight shirts and loose skirts, didn't like to wear panties too often and only strapped her plump boobs into her 36DD bras when she had to go out in public.
Yeah, I know what size bra my mom wears..you really surprised?
I can still remember the feel of her heavy, warm breasts smooshing against my chest when she'd lean down to kiss me while tucking me into bed.
And the way her shapely figure was silhouetted by the hallway light as she left my room, the gossamer fabric of her silken nightgown clinging to her lush curves.