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Nearly a year had gone by since my Mother passed away. Her passing had occurred suddenly and I was not at all prepared. In those 12 months, I’d buried the most important woman in my life, cleaned out everything I’d wanted to keep from my childhood home, oversaw the estate sale and eventually closed on the sale of that house. It was an extremely traumatizing time. I was a complete emotional wreck. And I had no one to console me when I’d needed it the most.
Even after all that time, I still found myself desperately missing her company. One night while I lay in bed, I picked up my phone and with tears in my eyes, texted the words, “I love you Mother” to what had once been her cell number. I wept into my pillow while my heart ached. But I was brought out of my misery by the arrival of a new text message. I dried my eyes and picked up my phone. What I saw shocked me beyond anything I could explain. It was a response from my Mother!
Opening the text, I read the words I’d longed to hear since her passing, “I love you too, Sweetheart”. I re-read the words over and over. It was like all my prayers had been answered. I’d found a way to communicate with the woman I loved more than anyone else. But as I sat there in my bed, in the dark, the reality of the situation set in. I knew it wasn’t my Mother texting me, she was gone and not coming back. But the question remained, who had sent me the message? More importantly than that, why would this person answer my text like that? They were pretending to by my Mother. And at that moment, I really didn’t care who it was, I wanted to keep pretending.
I replied to the last text, “I’ve missed you so much”
The text came almost immediately, “I’ve missed you too Baby. But where have I gone?”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I typed, “You died”
Several seconds passed while I sat there holding my phone and crying. Very suddenly, my phone began to vibrate announcing an incoming call from ‘Mother’. I let it ring three times before I answered it. The person on the other end of the call was female, but definitely not my Mother. The voice was that of a mature woman with a maternal, caring tone to it.
I was still sobbing when she began speaking. She apologized for pretending to be my Mother and hoped she hadn’t hurt my feelings. She asked my name and I told it was Kiley. She then told me her name was Bernice. She explained that she understood how badly it hurt to lose someone you loved. I eventually calmed down and told her how and when my Mother had died. Bernice expressed her sorrow for my loss and consoled me over the phone.
We wound up talking until the early hours of the next morning. She learned I had always been a ‘Mother’s Boy’ and she thought that was very special. I’d never met my father, he’d left shortly after I was born. I told her that I’d only had a few girlfriends throughout my life but none of them were very serious. And none of them were important enough for me to give my virginity too. I told her how I’d dropped out of college when my Mother passed away and still wasn’t ready to go back.
She shared with me that her husband had left her for a woman half her age. She told me her two sons were grown and lived on the opposite side of the country. She hadn’t seen them since the previous Thanksgiving and wouldn’t see them again until the holiday season after next. She was just as alone as I was.
During a lull in our conversation, Bernice gave me permission to text or call her anytime. And as the call drew to an end, I bit my lip and said, “Goodnight Mother.” I took a chance referring to her as ‘mother’ but I really enjoyed using that word again. She replied with, “Goodnight Sweetheart. Have pleasant dreams.” I drifted off to sleep that night happier then I’d been in an awfully long time.
We sent texts to each other throughout the next day. And that night, she called me again, we talked into the early hours of the next morning. This continued for a few weeks and I began to feel like my old self again, how I used to feel before I lost my Mother.
During one of our late-night talks, Bernice asked me to send her a pic of myself. I didn’t hesitate at all. With her holding on the line, I sat up in my bed, snapped several quick selfies and texted her the best one. I then held on while she looked at my picture.
The words she spoke made me blush. “My goodness, you are a very cute young man.” She went on to say that girls my age should be lining up to date me. She sounded just like my real Mother. I giggled into the phone and explained that girls my age were more interested in taller, stronger guys. This led her to ask how tall I was. I told her I was 5’3″ and weighed about 110lbs., the same size as my father had been, or so I had been told. Before she could ask, I told her my Mother was a little taller, 5’7″.
She told me she was even taller than my mother had been and liked the fact that I was so small. She imaged that smaller, gentle boys needed a Mother longer into adulthood that tall, strong boys. Her sons had both stood in excess of 6 foot. And both of them were completely independent and ataşehir escort she rarely heard from them. I heard her voice crack while telling me that, so I quickly told her I was lucky that I’d met her. I told her I was sure we’d continue talking/texting into the distant future.
When I asked her to take a selfie and send it to me, she quickly denied my request. She explained that she was in bed and wearing a nightgown that wouldn’t be appropriate to show to such an innocent young boy. I immediately imagined her in a lace-trimmed nightgown which would reveal a cavernous cleavage. And that image in my head caused my penis to swell. She promised to send me a picture when she dressed more suitably.
It took a few days, but the next Saturday she did finally send me a picture she’d taken of herself in a mirror. It showed her from the knees up. She was wearing a tasteful gray skirt and white blouse. She wore a pearl bracelet, necklace, and earrings. Her appearance exceeded any of my expectations. She was beautiful. Her make-up was applied tastefully by a hand with decades of experience. In some ways, she resembled my Mother. She wasn’t a petite woman at all. She was very busty with wide hips and thick thighs. Her once black hair was gracefully graying and hung loosely to her shoulders. She was what I thought a Mother should look like.
As I stood there with my phone in my hand, looking at the image she’d sent, my penis swelled once again. I didn’t respond right away. I recalled all of our conversations and thought about some of the private things I’d shared with her. Some of which were so private I would have never told my real Mother about them. But she wasn’t my real Mother. And I had the desire to tell her even more about my private thoughts and the things I did with myself when I was alone.
She sent a text containing one word, “Well?”
I replied with the words, “You are beautiful.” Followed by a blushy-face emoji. That was the first emoji either of us had ever sent. She told me she didn’t think she was beautiful and asked what was with the blushy face.
I typed out my reply and before sending it, I swallowed hard and hoped for the best. My reply said, “A certain part of my body has reacted in a way that proves you are beautiful.”
It felt like hours before she responded, but it was probably less than a minute. “Did my picture make your little wee-wee stiff?”
My penis throbbed hard and I couldn’t resist reaching down and giving it a few squeezes. I typed a single word, “Yes”. And after pressing send, I reached back down and squeezed myself some more.
Her response nearly made me squirt. “Prove it”
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how to respond. And after a few minutes, she called me. I picked it up on the first ring and we both began apologizing to each other. We were both worried about ruining the relationship we’d built. But as we spoke to each other, I continued to squeeze my erection through my pants. After we’d both agreed that we were okay with the conversation we’d just had, I told her I’d never taken a naked picture of myself before. But if I was going to do something like that, she would be the one to get that picture.
Her voice sounded raspy when she responded. She told me she understood. Continuing, she said that when I was ready, she would love to get a picture like that.
I was shocked when I next whispered into the phone, “I’m really horny Mother.”
Her voice sounded deeper than usual. I could hear her breathing when she said, “I know baby. Are you touching yourself?”
I whispered, “Yes”
“Sweetheart, I want you to do something for me. I want you to put your phone on speaker and set it down.”
I moaned, “Okay.” And did as I’d been told.
In that same deep voice, she said, “Sweetheart, take off all your clothes for me. Get naked for Mother.”
I gasped and uttered, “Okay Mother.” I rose up off my couch and began undressing. I gave her a blow by blow of what I was doing and what article of clothing I was removing. When I stood near my phone naked, I whispered, “I’m naked.”
For the next 4 minutes, she listened to me play with myself. She asked me very pointed questions about what I was doing and I explained it as best I could. When she inquired about my penis, I was honest. I told her it was small, about as big around as my thumb and as long as my pinky finger. I told her the hair around it was light blonde, just like the hair on my head. But my pubic hair was thin and wispy and I kept it well groomed.
All too soon, my excitement overtook my body and I squealed in a rather high pitch when my juices squirted out onto my stomach. I lay there trying to catch my breath and deal with the oncoming post-orgasm blues. That is when I heard her soft, loving voice again, “I should have been the one rubbing your little penis. My sweet boy should never touch himself, you should never do that all alone. I need to hold your naked body on my lap and tickle your little wee-wee until you squirt for me. And right now, this is when you need me the most. After you’ve squirted and made kadıköy escort bayan your mess, I should be holding you in my arms while you kiss and suckle my nipple.”
I moaned softly, “Yes, I want that too.”
She whispered into the phone, “Someday soon, Sweetheart. Someday very soon you’ll find yourself naked and sitting on my lap. And I can’t wait for that day to arrive.”
We continued to talk and text with each other on a daily basis over the next several weeks. I wanted to suggest we meet in person dozens of times, but I could never work up the courage to ask her. Finally one Thursday evening, Bernice suggested she pick me up and take me out for a nice meal the following evening. A shiver shot up my spine when she asked and I immediately accepted her invitation.
Bernice lived in a suburb a little more than an hour away from my apartment. It would be a long drive, but she said I could expect her to arrive at 6:30. When I asked how I should dress, she told me to wear something nice. I immediately knew the clothes I’d wear for her. I’d wear my black dress pants that made my butt look really good, a short-sleeved, white dress shirt, black leather belt, and black dress shoes. Every time I put those clothes on, it made me look even more juvenile than usual. It was the outfit my real Mother had always thought I looked best in.
I spent the hours before Bernice was due to arrive getting ready. I took a bath and scrubbed myself thoroughly. While perched on the side of the tub, I trimmed my pubic hair especially short and shaved around the edges. When I was finished, all that remained was a neat little triangle of light blonde pubic hair. After drying off, I rubbed myself down with lotion, spritzed myself with a soapy smelling cologne, it is actually perfume, but I like to think of it as cologne. It smells clean and fresh, I don’t think it’s especially feminine.
After combing my hair, brushing my teeth and attending to my finger and toenails, I moved into my bedroom. I slipped on a brand-new pair of underpants and then wiggled into my dress pants. Slipping on my shirt, I buttoned it up and left it untucked. Wrapping the belt around my narrow waist, I buckled it and slid the excess under the belt loops. Socks and shoes were last. When I was finished, I admired myself in my mirror and thought I looked really good. Younger than my 20 years, but still good.
The knock on my apartment door made me shiver. I was about to meet the woman I’d been talking to for so long. I approached my door, rose up on my tiptoes and looked through the peephole. I saw Bernice standing there looking as beautiful as ever. I quickly unlocked the door and opened it wide.
The first thing I noticed about Bernice was her height. She was tall, taller than my Mother, even taller than many men I knew. She stood a few inches over six feet. That left me looking up into her eyes from a foot below. Already feeling younger than my years due to the clothes I wore, standing before Bernice, I felt absolutely tiny.
She was wearing a pretty black dress with white flowers. It was short sleeved with a modest neckline. But her big boobs were impossible to hide. They thrust out the front of her dress like mountains. Her hourglass figure was exaggerated due to her size. Her hips swelled out and her thick thighs slowly tapered to her knees. She wore flats, there was no need for heels. And over her shoulder, she carried a big black purse.
Her graying hair was pulled back into a loose bun which left her gorgeous face unhidden. She had plump cheeks, beautiful blue eyes and her smile showed off her pearly white teeth. The makeup she wore was minimal and perfectly applied. I stood there in awe of this woman and was unprepared when she stepped into my apartment, set her purse on the floor, leaned down and gave me the hug I’d needed for so long. She held my body in her arms while mine looped up around her neck. I almost cried. It had been a very long time since I’d been held.
When our bodies separated, she knelt down on one knee and told me she was so happy to finally meet me in person. I wanted to tell her I was also happy to meet her. But she didn’t let me respond, she told me we were running a little late and had to get on our way to the restaurant to make our reservation. She paused to look me up and down. She told me I looked very cute but one thing needed to be fixed.
She reached out, undid my belt and opened my pants. I wasn’t at all prepared for that. Yes, I’d spent hours talking and texting with her on the phone, but we’d just met seconds before and she was taking liberties with my pants! For some odd reason, I held my arms up out of the way. While looking me in the eye, she tucked my shirt into my pants. Her big, soft, warm hand passed over my underpants-covered butt and quickly hardening penis. I was in heaven! All too soon, my shirt was tucked in tight and she was closing my pants and buckling my belt. Looking me over once again, she said, “Yes, now you look like a smart, young man.”
She smiled and rose to her feet. I don’t know why, but I reached up. escort maltepe Bernice smiled down at me and took my hand in hers. On the table just inside my front door, I picked up my phone, wallet, and keys. As I moved to put them in my pocket, Bernice stopped me and said, “Here, let Mother hold those for you. I would hate for you to lose them.”
I looked up and my body tingled in an odd way when I set my things in her hand. She opened her purse, dropped my keys inside. Looking down at me she said, “You won’t need your wallet or phone tonight.” And she set them back on the table beside my door. Reaching down, she took my hand again and we stepped into the hall and closed my door behind us.
We told each other how excited we both were to finally meet while walking out of my building. On the way, we passed my new neighbor, Mrs. Sims. It must’ve been the way we were holding hands and the difference in our ages that made Mrs. Sims assume Bernice was my Mother. She smiled and told Bernice that she had a very well-behaved son and that she should be proud of me. Bernice smiled and thanked Mrs. Sims, she went on to tell her that I’ve always been a good boy and she was lucky to be my Mother. Listening to Bernice pretend to be my Mother was strangely exciting. I stood there shifting my weight from one foot to the other while my penis became stiff under my dress pants. The two women continued to chat while I stood there holding Bernice’s hand.
Eventually, the conversation ended and Bernice led me out of my building to her huge Cadillac that was parked nearby. She opened my door, helped me inside and then reached across to buckle my seatbelt. While she was leaning across, her big breasts were pressed against my face. I moaned softly and my penis became fully erect. Before closing my door, Bernice leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. In a soft voice, she said, “I have a feeling we are going to have a very good time tonight.”
She then closed my door, leaving me gasping. I was unable to believe this evening was really happening. It felt almost like a dream. Watching Bernice’s wide hips and giant boobs wiggle and sway as she walked around the front of the car was hypnotic. And when she opened her door and sat down, the entire car leaned toward the driver’s side. Feeling that movement re-enforced the fact that Bernice was bigger, stronger and more mature than I was.
After starting up her car, she headed toward the expressway and I asked where she was taking me too. She smiled over at me and rested her hand on my skinny thigh. Looking back to the road, she told me it as a little restaurant she’d heard about through a friend. The restaurant was about halfway between her home and my apartment. That meant we had a half an hour drive ahead of us. During that time she asked how it made me feel to pretend to be her son for Mrs. Sims. I squirmed a little in my seat and avoided answering her question.
She glanced at me quickly and said she knew how it made me feel. She told me my face was flushed and my hips were wiggling around while she spoke with Mrs. Sims. I blushing like crazy sitting there beside her. Bernice then looked at me and asked, “Did your little wee-wee get stiff while Mother was talking to your neighbor?”
I felt so foolish. She kept talking to me as if I were a small child and it was turning me on. After tucking my shirt into my pants, the encounter with Mrs. Sims and then having her big breast smushed against my face while she buckled me in, my penis was throbbing in my pants. Looking over at her, I worked up my courage and softly said, “Yes, it got very stiff… Mother.”
When I uttered that sentence, a wave of acceptance washed over me. It was beginning to feel normal to refer to Bernice as Mother. It was tremendously naughty and felt so good!
She grinned without looking at me and said, “I thought so.” She slowly slid her hand further up my thigh until her big, soft hand was cupping my entire groin. She looked over at me and asked, “Sweetheart, why is this little thing still so stiff? Have you been looking forward to meeting me as much as I’ve been looking forward to meeting you?”
I didn’t really answer her. Her hand laying over my erection was too much for me to process. I’d never had anyone touch me like that before. Her hand was resting on my lap while my penis throbbed against her palm. After a short time, my hips bucked up against her hand and I whimpered, “Bernice.”
She looked over to me and squeezed my skinny penis. “Not Bernice, tonight I want you to call me Mother. Okay, Sweetheart?” She then moved her hand further down my thigh, she knew how excited I was getting.
I whispered, “Okay Mother.” I spent the next few moments trying to calm myself down. Everything was happening so fast. I had never been so horny before. But Bernice didn’t want me to settle down. Instead, she asked me how exciting it was to have her tuck my shirt into my pants. I told her it was impossible to explain how wonderful that felt. But I also told her I thought I looked like a little boy with it tucked in so tightly. She grinned and told me that was the point. We talked about the times I’d played with myself while she listened. And as we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, she told me that after dinner, she was going to take me to her home. And if I were a good boy, she may take me on her lap as we’d discussed.
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