I don't know if the average boy is stupid during his growth, but I am.
I know this is a more general evaluation, but if you can let me explain it, believe maybe you will understand the source of the incident and what I thought at the time, then your judgment of me may not be so harsh.
Actually I mean the boy’s perception of his parents.
For me, my mother, her identity is just a parent in my life.
She is a single mother, and that's all I know about her.
At that time, I didn't know who my father was. I only knew that my mother had never entered the marriage hall with him. She also had a secret attitude towards this and avoided any questions about my father or conversations related to him that were intentionally or unintentionally revealed.
People often say that being too familiar with a person will cause contempt.
I think this sentence is harsh and sounds a little harsh, but familiarity does make one person feel illusioned about another.
When you were a child, your mom was just…your mom.
The mothers of other children may look interesting, or exotic, or even sexy; at the same time, because you see your mother too many moments, it makes her fade out of your own sight and turn into a background in a silent life.
My mom is a real estate agent.
I guess she used to be a waiter when I was little, but when I was five or six, she got her real estate agent license.
We are poor, but I don't know what the difference is.
She always finds ways to get the roof over our heads sunshade and the dining table is full of food.
It was not until I was twelve or thirteen that I realized that she gave birth to me when she was fifteen.
It sounds crazy now, but at that time, the fifteen-year-olds I knew were all adults to me, so I didn’t think too much about it.
I never thought about whether she was helpless when she was pregnant, and she was not even at the age of having a driver's license, which must have been extremely difficult for her at that time.
Anyway, she is doing pretty well as a real estate agent.
The only downside is that income is not stable, which is why, sometimes, from a financial perspective, things get tense.
Such market fluctuations are quite large, so you must prepare for it from a long-term perspective.
I knew that while I was growing up, my mom would occasionally have a second job part-time job, but I didn't notice it either.
When my mom wasn't at home, I had time to read comic books and play with the Atari game console she bought at the Gd Will store.
Like I said, I'm a little fool.
Or, just self-indulgence.
I really noticed it was my mom’s perception of how a man (or boy) should treat the opposite sex.
She attaches great importance to this issue.
She firmly believes that if a man does not respect women and their wishes, he is even more inferior than rat shit.
Even before I entered puberty, my mom told me clearly that I should be a gentleman.
I want to patiently listen to a woman's expression, what she says, and respect her forever, forever, forever.
When I was sixteen, my mom allowed me to date the opposite sex.
I tried to make some attempts, but I was very shy.
Often, I have to know a girl very well before going out on a date.
This may sound counterintuitive because when I know a girl so deeply, we are already good friends and often find that dating each other is not as fulfilling and satisfying as it is just as friends.
I have the same impulse as other boys, but the girls I like are either I am not worthy of others or they are already other people's girlfriends.
Therefore, in most cases, I fall into the category of group dating.
We are a group of people, men and women, and people who like each other go out to play and do things together.
I would recommend this to others, but my sexual development is on a somewhat strange path.
However, that's a story later.
I usually manage to ease through the difficult times with a quick, somewhat violent masturbation process.
At such moments, my passionate passion was a nude photo of some women, who certainly didn't mind seeing their privacy.
This is obvious because they have posed for such photos and allowed who to print them in magazines.
I can have any sexual fantasy about them without feeling that I am sexually objectifying them.
Men’s sexual objectification of attitude towards women is one of the very sensitive topics of my mother.
My mother managed to save enough tuition for me, at least enough for me to start college.
I wanted to be a firefighter, which coincided with the vocational and technical school in our town offering an associate degree in fire science, so I was able to save some money by living at home.
The other boys in my class left home for the first time, they were extremely lustful and finally got drunk without being discovered by their parents, so they were a rather wild group of people.
I'm sure if I lived in the dorm with them, the pressure from my peers would force me to do something as stupid as they were, but I'm glad I was able to leave myself at night.
This also helped my study habits, which I didn’t develop in high school.
It's close enough to home that I can ride a bike (this is helpful in fitness, which is important in the program for firefighting professions), and I can also choose to walk if necessary.
On the other hand, living at home means I can’t bring a girl over to plunder her as my friends brag.
Alas, I've always been a virgin.
Of course, I never told them this.
This reminds me of the starting point of my normal start train, the ordinary, rich and dull atmosphere of life, which makes people involuntarily...uh...drift off the track.
Or the threat of derailment is approaching the brink.
During my fourth semester (last semester), I had to take an elective humanities course to meet the requirements of fine arts.
I chose the art subject because I thought it was easy to get credits.
I think the artwork itself is relatively subjective, right?
So you're unlikely to mess it up, right?
If the apples and bananas in my still life end up looking like briquettes and wooden strips, then I can explain that this is the artistic effect I want to present, which means that this is the intention I want to express, right?
It turns out that I prefer art.
One of my proof is that I spent years getting my nose stuck in a comic book.
However, this habit does not translate it into my love for art.
I never spent any time drawing anything, but I should have talent in this area, which is something I firmly believe in.
Even my teacher thinks the same.
Once after one get out of class she pulled me aside and asked if I was interested in working with an art partner at the university.
I don't know what a partner is from the Academy of Arts.
It turns out that a local art gallery provides training beyond what a vocational and technical school can provide.
They say it is an investment in the future of art.
It wasn't until later that I learned that this thing is a bit like American Idol or The Voice, and thousands of people are screened, and they may never catch the attention of music producers, but they are considered people with original talents.
In fact, not many people can stand out from it, but a few people who can stand out have made a lot of money for those who hold the show.
What these art partners do is try to find talent that will make them money.
In short, it is part of what is called the Art Laboratory.
The owner of the local gallery came to the school as a guest lecturer to carry out the event in a studio at the college.
It only takes place on Friday nights every week, and this arrangement is good because it won't affect my fire science class.
The course will last for three hours, so students can spend time on major projects without interruption.
Obviously, since Friday night is chosen, only serious and serious students will come to participate.
If you're a romance hunter, or you're an alcoholic, you'll avoid boring things like art labs.
I've dated a few nice girls since I was in college, but they all met in high school.
I really don’t have a lot of confidence, or at least not enough confidence to get close to the lively, independent girls I saw on campus.
In fact, this is one of the reasons why I choose art.
I have thought through the whimsical way that maybe girls who like art will like to choose quiet, polite men to date, like... a guy like me.
Actually what I want to say is that I don’t think that going to the art lab yourself on Friday night will affect my social life.
It’s also a great excuse to refuse a party, where alcohol flows like a stream, causing me to try to sneak into the room without my mom knowing I had drunk.
So, what are they doing there?I asked.
They do different things each semester, she said.I think they may have to do a study on human body this semester.
I think I can give it a try, I said.Isn’t it difficult to draw the human body?
This is true for some, but as you already know, it is also formulaic.We have reviewed the basics of this in class.Mrs. Gaskill will provide senior guidance.I think you can do this completely.
Well, next, I ask, where should I go?What should I bring?
********************
I arrived on the second Friday night as the studio as the art studio.
It is located in the basement of Ferrer Hall, a large building divided into two levels, and you have to walk through a long empty corridor to get there.
Because it is so quiet that it gives people a weird atmosphere in its feeling, and the flashing of some fluorescent lights on the ceiling adds this feeling.
I saw only one person in the corridor.
When I arrived at the location, I realized that the veterans had arrived very early, and Mrs. Gaskiel prepared delicious donuts and aromatic coffee drinks for the students.
She said everyone should not draw on hunger.
But I found that you shouldn't try painting with sticky fingers after eating the donut, of course this is another story.
If I had any questions, those doubts vanished when I first saw Mrs. Maureen Gaskill, the owner of Gaskill Gallery in the town.
I've seen Gaskill Gallery before.
It has a huge, stylized G as the logo.
Just from the appearance of the building, you really can't tell it's an art gallery, but obviously that mysterious, huge G made everyone ask what it is.
Mrs. Gaskill's sexy is like a deadly pistol.
She exudes a primitive, but restrained sexual desire, which makes me fantasize about going to Wushan with her to lingering Yunyu. Although I know she is married, the possibility of having sex with her in this world is very slim.
She is the real, living playboy bunny type that can make men have countless fantasies, but that's all.
She looked at me when I came in, but I knew it would be better not to stare at her.
My mom taught me that it would be better not to do this.
She was particularly obsessed with the goal of raising me to be a qualified gentleman who respects women.
The atmosphere in the laboratory is obviously different from that in ordinary classrooms.
There were about fifteen students in the classroom, and the easels filled the room, arranged in a semicircular shape around a high platform with a heart seat covered with soft cushions that looked like red velvet.
The easels are covered with blank canvas.
There are several easels with some semi-finished products on their legs, and some leaning against the wall.
Obviously, the experimental project of last semester was to draw certain types of machinery and equipment.
It might look like an espresso machine, tall and shiny, with lots of other things around it, like you see in a coffee shop.
And, it is obvious that many people did not complete the project before the holiday.
I'm a newbie, but no one treats me as a newbie.
Maybe we are all newbies.
I don't know either.
Everyone looked friendly and everyone was relaxed, which somewhat confused me because I was worried that they would laugh at me when they saw my work, or something awkward.
But then again, aren’t they worried that I will laugh at their works?
It turns out that artists, at least as beginners, have no judgment to judge other people's works.
Or, they are just for polite reasons in this regard.
If they think some of the works are really bad enough to be visible to the naked eye, they will just choose not to comment on it.
The time for the experimental subjects is up, and Mrs. Gaskill reminds everyone to keep quiet.
Her arms were folded under her breasts.
I also know it's better not to stare at her breasts.
However, this does not mean that I am not interested in her breasts.
We will do some research on the human body this semester.Our models will pose naked, giving us the opportunity to research and explore in terms of skin tone, shadows, and more.You don't need to try realism, but we don't accept any cartoon-like paintings, do you understand?You can choose the medium you like, but don't have to take too much risk.If you don’t have a skilled painting experience, stick to painting with pencil or charcoal for something more tolerant and easier to handle.This semester will be a special experience.I will tell you more about this topic later.
I know from regular courses that most art is done in stages.
When drawing human bodies, whether it is a human or other animals, the first step is to master the basic knowledge while observing the model; basic postures, forms, proportions, etc.
This is achieved by making circles, ovals, squares and similar shapes.
Then you turn those shapes into parts of the body, adding details.
After these are done, you can fill in the extra section yourself, or finish the precise details by looking at the model again.
At this point you can try something like drawing wrinkles on your skin, creases on your clothes, shadows, and similar things.
I wondered if the model was male or female, but I didn't ask.
I think I'll know the answer soon.
So I was there, relaxing and preparing to observe a naked body for the first time for a long time.I really hope this body is a female body.Now I'm ready.
As I wish, the model was a woman.
When this woman walked out of the locker room, slipped down her nightgown, and took her seat calmly in the love seat, the only thing I was not prepared for was... that woman would actually be my mother.
********************
There are some emergencies that you can’t control, they hit you like a tsunami, slapping you can’t resist, and then change the face of your life forever.
I never thought my mom was a sexy woman, just like I never associated my mom with sex, a sexual being.
She doesn’t know how to date and never goes out for a date, which never happened when I grew up.
I haven't thought there was anything strange about this.
My friend’s mother has never gone out for a date either.
I know there is a type of women called hot moms, but I have never met them personally to confirm this (Madame Gaskill may be an exception), and of course I have never thought that my mom belongs to this type.
I know mom has a pair of breasts because they almost squeezed out her shirt and skirt, but I have never seen them again since I got the necessary nourishment from them.
My mom has no habit of walking naked or half naked at home, nor does it when it is quiet; neither does I, nor does she, and she is mine...my mom.
I know most of you understand what I want to express, because most of you never thought that your mother was a sexy woman and never regarded your mother as a sexual being.
Or at least try not to think about it or not do it.
The problem is, in the seconds after I realized who the model was, that tsunami washed over me and everything changed.
She has my mother's face, but I suddenly can't treat her as my mother.
Remember the primitive sexual desire of Mrs. Gaskil that I mentioned?
This model also has it.
She did not try to show the scent of sexual desire.
But this is inevitable.
First of all, there was no extra fat on her body.
I know she is thirty-four years old, but she is like a twenty-two-year-old gymnast.
Although you didn't see every rib she had, in fact it was very similar.
Her thighs are strong and full, agile and flexible.
Her arms and neck had no extra flesh, and her neck was soft and slender like a white swan neck.
Maybe it was because her hair was tied into a ponytail.
I've seen her with a ponytail before, usually just to make things clean in the yard or similar situations.
Most of the time, she likes her honey-colored blonde hair to hang down naturally.
She kept her hair short, about to the point where she grew to her shoulder blades, and she had explained that such an image helped her sell the house.
Then there are…the rest of her body.
Mom's breasts didn't look as big as I expected, if I had ever thought I would have seen such breasts.
I don't know anything about women's breast cup sizes and things like that.
I could only say clumsyly that they were perfectly proportional to the rest of her body.
Their bottom is obviously round, but the top is gently tilted downward until they suddenly try to defeat the action of gravity.
In fact, it looks like her nipples may be trying to help pull the tip of her breast upwards.
Based on my experience with other breast photos in the past, these nipples look hard…erect…right.
The nipple present a maroon tone, embedded in small circles of areola of the same color.
Strangely, as I stared at the pair of breasts from my mom, I suddenly thought of ski jumping and then jumped…I've seen pictures of women's drooping breasts.
My mother's breasts are definitely not sagging breasts.
I guess this is the most polite and polite name for a woman’s private parts.
It was shaved and had no trace of pubic hair, the labia looked like some kind of strange fruit that had been split, and the soft pink inner flesh protruded out of the crack.
Will other women who are mothers also shave their own vaginas?
They probably won't do that.
If you have the courage to ask any child if his mother's vagina has been shaved, when he tries to beat you, he will say, No, you damn pervert!But the female model's pubic hair has been completely shaved.
You understand how difficult it is to treat her emotionally as my mother, right?
Except for mom, she obviously is.
All of this is easy to see because of her posture, because of the moment she finally settled down, and she showed it all.
She lay down on the love seat, supporting the chair with one elbow and holding her head with one hand.
She had a strange cylindrical pillow under her armpits to bear the weight of her torso.
Her calves remain mostly straight, but her thighs and knees are bent and raised to show themselves to our sight.
The leg's feet were just behind the knee of the straight leg.
Her upper arms were bent, her wrists were placed on her hips, and her fingers were hanging downwards, as if pointing at her genitals.
Her eyes seemed to be looking at us...me.
The expression on her face seemed to be saying: Finally here!I've been waiting for too long.Don't you love me enough?Don't you come to me when I really need you?
The tsunami I mentioned?
It was blood pouring into my cock, giving me an incredible, rock-solid erection.
For my own mom.
********************
Now, let's be more professional!Mrs. Gaskill rebuked, as if she knew exactly what was thinking in my rebellious mind.
Yes, that's right.One of the few boys in the room responded.
I would rather grow that myself.I heard a girl talking to herself like this.
This model I just can't see her as my mother lying quietly like a stone statue, not disturbed by those gentle and soft comments.
It was as if she knew she was a real goddess, and she no longer had any extravagance for her.
I know it is a provocative pose, Mrs. Gaskil continued, but if you want, you are free to choose your work this semester, and I can be responsible for submitting the erotic art exhibition scheduled for April in a major gallery in Fenghuáng City.They will reserve some space for their amateur works, and award certificates will also be awarded for outstanding works, including rewards.The grand prize is an invitation to showcase future works, which may lead to sales of works.I don't think there is any more to say?
Everyone whispered and expressed their interest.
At the moment, the erotic part should be easy, Mrs. Gaskill said.
Our models will be very inspiring to you in this regard.I chose her because she has such traits.This is against intuition, but what you need to pay special attention to at first is her face.I chose this model because she has what we want I mean on her face and you guys have to capture this expression keenly, which is crucial and very critical.You can put any body you want on her and draw it no matter how you draw it, but you must not ignore her face.
A man standing next to me whispered: Just like I want to become that body.
Yes.I blurted out without thinking.
But I can't say: buddy!This is my mom!Even though that's what I think.
I remember having a movie called this name when I was a kid, but I never saw it.
Mrs. Gaskil said: Don't fight any passion that the model creates in you.Let such lust guide your paintings.It is normal to have a little lustful feeling, and it's no big deal.Jennifer understands.I think she would feel unhappy if she didn't create these feelings in your mind.After all, this is what she wants to instill in you, injecting the passion you need into the artwork you want to create.
I blinked.
Mrs. Gaskill was basically saying, Jennifer…my mother…want to be sexy…want to make us all horny for even all the women present!
If she didn't achieve this goal, she would be disappointed!
If mom...her intentions fail, she will be disappointed!?
Absolutely no problem.A soft, feminine voice came from my left.I looked, but I couldn't be sure who said this.
This is not my mother.
It was obvious that my mom had a stand-in, right in Flagstaff, just that we didn't know about it before.
She must have a stand-in that is exactly the same as her, because if this model was really my mother, she wouldn't lie naked here for us to copy her body, and it wouldn't be possible for her to shave all the pubic hair in her chastity.
At this moment, the female model's eyes floated to me.The pupils of those beautiful big eyes widened, and she blinked at me three times.Then she swallowed and opened her lips.
However, she then turned her eyes elsewhere, and it all happened in silent silence.
However, in those eyes, a very clear message was conveyed, that was, she recognized me.
And I can't deceive myself, that's my mother...I said!That is indeed my mother!
********************
Did something happen just now?asked Mrs. Gaskil.
I glanced at her, she was looking at… the female model.
Your face is blushing like a newly married girl.I thought you were ready.
Sorry, my mother said in the voice of a bass singer: I just suddenly remembered something.I will calm down and try not to think randomly.
Quite the contrary, it makes you look more charming.It's like frosting on a perfect cake.No matter what aspect it is, please keep as much as possible and think about it more.
I don't want to review this for the next three hours.Mom sighed.
I see.After Mrs. Gaskil finished speaking, she turned to look at us.
Let's start writing.It is difficult and tiring for models to pose.Let's not cause trouble to our model and make it hard for her to do it.she almost roared.
A male student standing next to me said: I prepared a tough guy for her.
Don't try to be a bastard.A girl next to him said.She might be someone's mother.She may be old enough to be your mother.
That boy, I later learned that his name was Greg, and he didn't say anything more.
He walked to an easel and began to flip through the supplies on a small stand next to him.
I did the same thing and entered a state of self-painting. Although it was no different from others on the surface, I didn't know what I was going to do.
The girl (her name is Susan) is right.
This female model is indeed someone’s mother. She is my mother!
Honestly, I don't know how I survived these first three hours.
I think I could have left.
I might have to leave.
But part of me is no different from the others in the room.
None of them would voluntarily give up leaving and stop admiring the beautiful scenery.
Or partly because of her behavior, the only move that mom's movement in this lab was to slightly turn her head, and every two or three minutes, she would change, focusing on a student who came to paint.
When she did this, she stared at you alone, as if the boy or girl was the only human being in this room.
This close connection, this unique feeling is obvious.
She looked at me without any fear.
I'm sure only the body language expert can see how she sees me differently from others.
This actually helped me because when mom was looking at me, I found it difficult to look her in the eyes again.
Every time it was my turn to be stared at by my mother's openly sexual gaze, I tried to work on her facial features and avoid her gaze.
Some people may think that I should know my mother's face well, but that's not the case.
I saw something I hadn't noticed before.
For example, she has high and obvious cheekbones, which was a total surprise to me.
Without Mrs. Gaskyl, I'm not sure I'd start.I was just standing there, holding a pencil in my hand, staring at...the model...then she walked to me.
Starting from the model's head, Mrs. Gaskill said.
Place it one-third on the left side of the page edge and write down the basic shape and size you want.Then there is the torso.Leave the limbs to the end.Don't pay attention to the existence of the sofa until you like her body.You should already know this.
OKI said.
We discussed these issues in class with some of the other average teachers I knew.
Mrs. Gaskill probably knew this.
I doubt she knows why I just stared at the naked female model on the podium.
This immediately caused a small fantasy ripples in my mind. Mrs. Maureen Gaskiel reached out to find and accurately grasped my hard penis, and said, I guess it was.You have fallen in love with her body, right, you naughty child.However, the ripples of sex ended here.
In fact, my appearance was shocked, so I quickly took action and reached out to put the pencil on the paper.
She continued to wander and walk forward, observing the progress of other students.
Looking at Mrs. Gaskil's back, she played another role for me invisibly.
As I draw rough outlines such as circles, ovals, squares, and so on to block the sofa and body on the sofa, I focus on thinking about my guest art teacher, Mrs. Gaskill.
This is not surprising, because her talent in appearance and body is perfectly qualified for Playboy's standard requirements for nude models, and there will be no problems.
I mean, although I have never seen Mrs. Gaskil's naked body, a beautiful woman who is willing to spend time dressing up carefully should also have a wonderful and outstanding figure. Don't you think I'm right?
I've thought about a pornographic story about a dozen playmates in Playboy.
Not only is she a beautiful and sexy woman, but she seems to be accustomed to invading other people's private spaces during the teaching process, perhaps this makes her feel very comfortable.
There were a few times when she was very close to me. I could not only smell the fragrance of flowers on her body, but also a little worried that she would smell something from me.
She was wearing a wedding ring, which meant that a lucky man had announced that he had claimed her.
But a wedding diamond ring did not prevent me from having one or another beautiful fantasy of Mrs. Gaskil. These beautiful fantasy atmospheres create a romantic mood so that we can get together in an intimate way.
These are all stupid and small sexual fantasies that can only exist in the mind.
For example, I had fantasized that her husband was a Navy SEAL (he could not be less manly than that) and was not with her.
She loved him, but she had the need to be nourished by love, and I reminded her of him and became her husband's substitute to pour rain and dew on her body.
And in another scene, I became a handsome boy who sent express delivery when I delivered a bunch of art supplies to her house.
She came out in a loose robe and insisted that I stay there for a moment while she was counting the boxes.
Somehow, she was in a state of dishevelation and suddenly she was in a state of vagueness. She saw that my eyes were full of naked desires, but she could not resist me...
As I know myself, they are nothing more than stupid, teenage fantasies.
My mother would be frightened by these imaginations, because these visions have lustled Mrs. Maureen Gaskiel and made her mess.
But I only have a short time to belong to this teenager full of fantasy fantasy, so I am not ashamed to feel uncomfortable.
The thought of Mrs. Gaskil's naked body also helped me to be distracted and try not to think about my own biological mother's body.
And while I was staring at my naked mother.
This is the first time I have truly realized how complicated the taste of life itself can become.
But no matter what, I did get through the initial embarrassment and embarrassment.
After three hours, the female model stood up, put on her nightgown again, left the venue, and disappeared into a small locker room in a corner of the studio.
The rest of us started cleaning up.
As one of the members of the Art Lab, we could enter the lab any night the building is open, and Mrs. Gaskill talks about what we should do from now until next Friday night, but all I can think of is my mom, how she put on her bra and panties in that small dressing room, and then back to her normal outfit.
I cleaned it up slowly.
The cock in my crotch was still very hard, and I kept thinking about it. This may be the reason why I didn't see my mother coming out of the locker room.
So when I saw her waiting for me in the darkness, by the front door of the building, I was the last one to come out.
My nervous brain created another fantasy in which mom stood there smiling and shook hands like people shook hands at the end of Sunday’s service.
The students rushed to tell her how beautiful she was, or what a great model she was, how happy they were to try to capture the charm of her sexuality, and she always smiled and thanked them.
I have to admire my mother, she looks calm and calm.
Mai Mai... She said that was a very low voice.
Why?What the hell is wrong, mom?I suppressed my panting and harsh breath.
Let's talk about this after we get home, okay?Mom said.Now, do you want to take a free ride?
I rode my bike into the campus that day, but I could come and pick it up at any time when I was convenient.
After the bicycle is locked, it is placed in the fixed storage carport on campus.
Tonight, I just want to go home with my mom.
And I might not be safe enough on the street.
I am really upset now, and I can't concentrate on paying attention to the traffic conditions on the road.
I followed my mom out of the building without looking around.
I just do it like an autopilot, just following my mom’s advice.
I have many questions, but I don't know where to start.
Just like what just happened, if not for seeing with your own eyes, my mom has many secret lives that I don't know.
For many years, I have always liked to read comic books about some secret identities, hidden superpowers, and heroism that burst out with divine power at critical moments, but I don’t know that I have encountered such an identity in reality in life!
Although of course my mother cannot have any superpowers.
But it also shocked me.
I stared at my mom, wondering if she really had more secret identities!
I kept staring at her like this, trying to convince myself that this could really happen to her.
At this point, I kind of wish she had a dual identity and then it all became reasonable in some way.
Just because I stared at my mother with too much attention, I didn’t notice that the three classmates were walking towards us.
Don, Jerry and Phil (providing their last names doesn’t help the story) will be firefighters, just like me.They obviously drank alcohol and were in high spirits.
Did we come too late?Phil shouted, reminding me of their existence.Have we missed her?
It turned out that a friend of Tang had somehow known that there was a nude research in the art laboratory that semester. In his words, the model was very hot and sexy.
So it kept their sexual desire soaring and feeling hungry, so they made a decision while drinking and they needed to come and take a look at this sexy naked female model.
Panic grabbed my chest.
Is it her?Tang shouted.Damn, man, she's really sexy!
Get out of here!I screamed like a little girl out of control.
Yes I know.Even now, I'm embarrassed to admit it.This was the only counterattack I could think of at that time.
They stumbled towards us.
It was getting late, so the noise they made didn't really get people's attention, but my panic wasn't there, and it didn't matter to me as much as who would see or hear their yelling.
My concern is what they might see or hear when they walk up to us that shouldn't let them know.
The last thing I need is to let these bad guys discover that my mom is posing as a model for strangers to be nude.
It will be an epic story, perhaps the most epic legend that the fire science program has ever seen, with instructors telling one of the hottest topics of some of the rather crazy stories that have happened over the years.
Are these some of your friends?My mom asked, her voice as normal as it was during the day.
It's like an engineer seeing a train crash but can do nothing.
We were just standing there and they kept walking and didn't stop.
Jerry was the first to stagger in front of the three-man team, and I felt my mother's hand resting on my elbow as he stood awkwardly in front of us.
brother!Jerry sighed, staggering forward slightly, staring at my mom.She is so fucking beautiful!
Thanks.My mom said.
I could hear it from her voice.
She is about to laugh!
How could she laugh at this time?
This is the end of my life, for God’s sake!
I have to leave this school.
I had to go somewhere else and choose another career to start my studies.
This story will eventually cause a sensation throughout the industry!
Don and Phil caught up.Apparently, Phil is the one who drinks the least alcohol among the three.
Hey, do you know her?Phil asked.Ricky told me that I’m going to draw some nude chicks this year in art class.Is it her?
I fully understand the reason for this sentence.Mom and I were the only two people in a hundred yards, and her hands were pulled through my arms and held in my arms.
I...uh... that's it.That's all the sounds in my throat.
We are old friends.My mom said.
My head couldn't help but tilt my head and stared at her.
When I was fifteen, he was still a baby, so I took care of him.she added.
Are you his fucking nanny?Tang blurted out indignation.
It was almost the same, my mother said calmly as Tang said.He is such a cute baby.At that time, I couldn't help but fall in love with him.And now he has grown up!
This is fucking awesome!Jerry said angrily.
At that time, you looked at him naked every day, Phil said, now he turned around and looked at you naked.He grinned as if he had said the deepest things in centuries.
Not completely transparent, my mom said.I put on lipstick at that time.
My head turned toward my mother again.Mom was smiling, and all this was like participating in a fun little game for her!
Shit!Man… Jerry sighed.If I could see the naked body of such a nanny, I would pay any price.
I suddenly realized that my alumni had dirty mouths and obviously could not have normal, polite conversations.
Take care of your fucking stinky mouth!I rushed out.
I was suddenly very angry.
Somehow, things turned around.
I've been worried about what they'll think when they find out my mom.
Now I suddenly feel ashamed of my mother discovering the slutty and obscene nature of my alumni.
It's great to see you, sirs, mom said.But Mai Mai and I still have a lot to do, so if you don't mind, I plan to steal him.
Listen to it, she said she wanted to steal him.Tang sighed.
Bah, he also needs a nanny to change him into a new diaper!Jerry shouted sourly.
Beauty, I need to remind you, Phil said, his little brother may not be much older than you did last time you saw it.He smiled, and then he kept laughing like an idiot.
This is because he is indeed an idiot!
I will go and have a good look, my mother said, as if he is not an idiot.Do you guys also want to be firefighters?
Yes, damn, that's right.We are all.Tang said proudly.
OK, then, you three take good care of him.He is very important to me.If he gets hurt, I will break down.
He should be careful about your blow to him.Tang sighed again.
We can go with you, Phil said, and he seemed to wake up instantly.I would love to hear stories about his childhood.
No, no, my mom said, pinching my arm.All I want is him.
She wanted to enjoy him alone, Tang sighed.This really made me cry.
I was about to yell at them again, but my mother said in a casual manner: I don’t think so.In my experience, a drunk man can never be a good lover.
Mom took my arm and took me to the parking lot.
OK, you kids should be more obedient and obedient.Mom turned around and said to them.
During our first aid training, we learned that some of the symptoms of shock are: shortness of breath, shallow breathing, dizziness, weakness, anxiety, wide-open eyes, sweating, and confusion.
I had all of the above symptoms when my mom pushed me into her car and started.
However, I don't need medical services.
All I need is time.
Before her mother said the first sentence, she drove a car that seemed to be about twenty minutes long.
But I am sure it shouldn't be that long, because it's only ten minutes from campus to our house.
But then again, my mother didn't choose to let us go home directly.
She stopped at a wine shop next to the road.
You stay here.I'll be back soon, my mother said to me.
It's Ah, and that's the first thing my mother said after we left the campus parking lot.
She didn't explain, nor did she say things would be better like her mother, so she told me not to worry.
Instead, the first thing she said to me was to keep me in the car.
I finally had the opportunity to sort out my thoughts.
My heart rate slowed down and the color looked clearer.
Mom came back almost quickly, holding the long and tall brown paper bag that could be seen everywhere.
She had it in the trunk for some reason, maybe for some reason.
Then my mother got into the car.
Instead of starting the car immediately, she turned sideways to face me.
Sorry, I'm sorry, mom said.I really didn't expect this to make you discover.
How could I not know?I asked.
You didn't tell me you were studying art, Mom pointed out.Nor have you told me anything about what class you are taking.
I did not talk to you.I admit it.
I know boys like to distance themselves from their mother at your age, Mom said.It's still...a painful feeling.
I'm not trying to distance myself from you.I said.
Really?But after tonight, you will definitely hate me.
Mom, I can't hate you.I said.
Worry pierced my heart.
My mom is the only person in this world I can truly trust.
My mother took care of me through many difficult times, and I knew it was not easy.
She made unimaginable sacrifices for me, and I loved her more than anyone else in the world.
Even after tonight... I won’t hate me in the future?
I was just shocked, that's all, I said.Of course, until now, I'm still trying to understand what happened.
Mom started the car and reversed.She didn't explain anything more.
Fastening her seat belt, I reminded my mother because the tinging sound of the dashboard did not seem to attract her attention.
My mother just buckled her seat belt after reminding me, but her eyes were staring straight ahead.
It was only a few minutes' drive to get home, and when we got out of the car and walked into the house, there was still a nervous silence.
Mom took out a bottle of sour malt whiskey from her bag and unscrewed it.
I took a sip at the bottle and I heard the slight sound of her throat swallowing the wine.
This is new, or it should be said that it is my brand new discovery.
Because before, I only saw my mother occasionally have a cocktail.
Normally, moms only drink this type of gradual improvement (a cocktail made with orange juice and vodka) and watch the "Return to Crime Scene" episode or other TV shows as a pastime.
That, can I do some?I asked.
No, Mom answered without hesitation.You're too young.
But it is not as young as you can see your naked body and show off everything you have.I said.
My mother sat down on the recliner dejectedly, as if she was shot.She then took another big sip of wine.Drink very hard and fast.
You definitely think I'm a slut.Mom said.
I almost wanted to laugh.
I think the most unlikely woman in the world is my mom.
As far as I know, she has never dated in her life.
She never takes men home, nor spends the night outside unless she attends a real estate conference.
Even so, she would call me to say hello on nights like that.
If she was indulging in a hotel, she wouldn't call her son during sex, right?
You're not a slut, I said.
When I was in high school... she said.That's why I ended up getting pregnant with you.
Mom poured the bottle mouth against the corner of her mouth again.
Mom, I said softly, give me the bottle.I don't plan to drink.You drink too fast and too much.You will get sick like this.
I just wanted to earn some crazy money, she complained.I thought this would not cause any harm.I almost backed off, but Maureen kept persuading me that I would be fine…
Do you know Mrs. Gaskil?I asked, snatching the bottle of wine from my mother's finger.
About one-third of the wine had been drunk by my mother.
It turns out that without my stop, my mother could quickly kill the remaining drinks!
Let’s practice Pilates together (a functional body training that distinguishes yoga).She said.
I know my mom is a member of a gym.
The reason why a house transaction she had reached was successfully completed was because she sold the house to the owner of the gym.
I know that my mother attaches great importance to fitness training and even has an almost pious attitude, which I know allows her to maintain a beautiful body shape.
However, after experiencing the laboratory, I truly realized how great this made my mother's body shape.
So what?I said.
So you don’t hate me, don’t you hate me?
I knelt down in front of my mother's recliner.
I love you mom.I will Always Love You.Don't be upset about this anymore.
Mom moved forward and I got a slightly awkward hug.
You are the best thing that happened to me... the best in my life... Mom said.Suddenly, he lost control of his emotions and started crying.
If you want to destroy the will of a tall and powerful firefighter, then hold him and cry.Turn us into little rabbits, or something soft and weak.
He was an absolute bastard, and his mother cried at my neck, but he gave you to me.
I realized that the person she was talking about was my father.
This is another new thing.
Mom never talks about my father.
I asked my mother several times, and each time her answer was brief and consistent, she said: I don’t want him, nor do I talk about him.He will never show up in your in life.
My father, he… I asked, thinking that my mom might relax her guard at this moment and let some information leak out.
But what I got was a snoring sound in my ear...
********************
I have enough drinking experience (of course, my mom doesn’t know yet) and I find that drinking one-fifth of whiskey on a basic empty stomach can cause…well, well, a secret to letting people pass out.
My mother obviously fell asleep under the influence of alcohol, and her breath was even and normal.
I took this opportunity to carry my mother on my shoulders with my usual practice of the firefighter's transport method and I wanted to carry her back to her bedroom.
Realizing the fact that my mother's body was close to my body, the perfect breast that night I had stared at her for three hours was now like a touch touching my back.
Mom's pretty butt (I didn't actually see it, but I'm sure it's as perfect as the rest of her) is held in my hand.
I gently placed her on the bed in her bedroom, and my mother's evenly round thighs were more or less straightened to the ground, her feet apart to form a natural inverted V-shaped shape leading to the wonderful part.
Mom's honey-blond hair was scattered, covering her beautiful face.
To make mom feel more comfortable, I combed them aside.
To this day, I still think it is this trigger that causes me to think about taking off my mother's clothes.
I didn't do this to peek at my mom's body.
At least not completely accomplished.
I really think it would be more comfortable for her to rest and sleep without clothes.
However, to a certain extent, I think I went against my original intention in the gradual process and did deviate from the right track.
A little bit lewd.
I took off my mother's top first and took off her shirt. It was not difficult because my mother's upper body was as weak as noodles at this time.
But I was in big trouble when I was solving my mother's jeans tie.
The jeans were wrapped around my thighs, and the more I took them off, the tighter I hugged them. During the tug and pull, I accidentally pulled off my mother's underwear.
It was a pair of pink and blue, bikini-style panties.
If someone asked what kind of underwear or similar questions my mother would wear for jokes or other purposes, and if I didn't ignore him because of his perverted doubts, I might take it for granted what kind of underwear my mother would wear for general conservative old ladies, my mother would be like that, even if it wasn't exactly like that.
However, now when I see these slender, flowing, sexy styles, it doesn't seem surprising at all.
Especially after I see what they cover, I won't be surprised.
This result made my mother wear only a bra on her body.
It was already very difficult and laborious to remove these barriers from her. I didn't want to wear a set of pajamas for my mother anymore.
So I stood beside my mother's bedroom bed, thinking constantly in my mind, trying to imagine the scene when my mother woke up and found that she was wearing only a bra.
It will obviously make women with a personality like mom unable to accept it and make her creepy, at least this thrilling mood feel the same for me.
So I picked up my mother's pink and blue bikini and gestured to put them back on my mother.
When I was hesitating, I suddenly thought that when I was painting in the laboratory, didn’t I see my mother’s naked body?
No one knows this better than she does.
Since we mother and son already have this unknown close relationship, I took off my mother's bra and then took it out and hugged it and put it on and tucked it on.
I have to admit that I actually stared at my mother's naked body for a while before I covered her with the quilt.This is the part that makes people feel that I am vulgar.
Or, the thing that makes people feel vulgar is that my penis erected uncontrollably while doing this.
In the past, I would go online to choose some anonymous porn movies that are more interested in stimulating my erection, and then use masturbation to get rid of the erection state and feeling.
But what happened today is indescribable because my continued erection was due to my mother's naked body.
In the lab I could change my sight and point my erection at the butt under Mrs. Gaskil's back.
Or try to calm my desire.
However, here, in my mother's bedroom, I looked at my mother's naked body to the fullest while getting a high erection.
I didn't want to use any method to relieve the swelling and pain of my penis. I let this towering state last for a long time before I quietly left my mother's bedroom reluctantly.
The right track begins the first step to derailing…
I know this is a more general evaluation, but if you can let me explain it, believe maybe you will understand the source of the incident and what I thought at the time, then your judgment of me may not be so harsh.
Actually I mean the boy’s perception of his parents.
For me, my mother, her identity is just a parent in my life.
She is a single mother, and that's all I know about her.
At that time, I didn't know who my father was. I only knew that my mother had never entered the marriage hall with him. She also had a secret attitude towards this and avoided any questions about my father or conversations related to him that were intentionally or unintentionally revealed.
People often say that being too familiar with a person will cause contempt.
I think this sentence is harsh and sounds a little harsh, but familiarity does make one person feel illusioned about another.
When you were a child, your mom was just…your mom.
The mothers of other children may look interesting, or exotic, or even sexy; at the same time, because you see your mother too many moments, it makes her fade out of your own sight and turn into a background in a silent life.
My mom is a real estate agent.
I guess she used to be a waiter when I was little, but when I was five or six, she got her real estate agent license.
We are poor, but I don't know what the difference is.
She always finds ways to get the roof over our heads sunshade and the dining table is full of food.
It was not until I was twelve or thirteen that I realized that she gave birth to me when she was fifteen.
It sounds crazy now, but at that time, the fifteen-year-olds I knew were all adults to me, so I didn’t think too much about it.
I never thought about whether she was helpless when she was pregnant, and she was not even at the age of having a driver's license, which must have been extremely difficult for her at that time.
Anyway, she is doing pretty well as a real estate agent.
The only downside is that income is not stable, which is why, sometimes, from a financial perspective, things get tense.
Such market fluctuations are quite large, so you must prepare for it from a long-term perspective.
I knew that while I was growing up, my mom would occasionally have a second job part-time job, but I didn't notice it either.
When my mom wasn't at home, I had time to read comic books and play with the Atari game console she bought at the Gd Will store.
Like I said, I'm a little fool.
Or, just self-indulgence.
I really noticed it was my mom’s perception of how a man (or boy) should treat the opposite sex.
She attaches great importance to this issue.
She firmly believes that if a man does not respect women and their wishes, he is even more inferior than rat shit.
Even before I entered puberty, my mom told me clearly that I should be a gentleman.
I want to patiently listen to a woman's expression, what she says, and respect her forever, forever, forever.
When I was sixteen, my mom allowed me to date the opposite sex.
I tried to make some attempts, but I was very shy.
Often, I have to know a girl very well before going out on a date.
This may sound counterintuitive because when I know a girl so deeply, we are already good friends and often find that dating each other is not as fulfilling and satisfying as it is just as friends.
I have the same impulse as other boys, but the girls I like are either I am not worthy of others or they are already other people's girlfriends.
Therefore, in most cases, I fall into the category of group dating.
We are a group of people, men and women, and people who like each other go out to play and do things together.
I would recommend this to others, but my sexual development is on a somewhat strange path.
However, that's a story later.
I usually manage to ease through the difficult times with a quick, somewhat violent masturbation process.
At such moments, my passionate passion was a nude photo of some women, who certainly didn't mind seeing their privacy.
This is obvious because they have posed for such photos and allowed who to print them in magazines.
I can have any sexual fantasy about them without feeling that I am sexually objectifying them.
Men’s sexual objectification of attitude towards women is one of the very sensitive topics of my mother.
My mother managed to save enough tuition for me, at least enough for me to start college.
I wanted to be a firefighter, which coincided with the vocational and technical school in our town offering an associate degree in fire science, so I was able to save some money by living at home.
The other boys in my class left home for the first time, they were extremely lustful and finally got drunk without being discovered by their parents, so they were a rather wild group of people.
I'm sure if I lived in the dorm with them, the pressure from my peers would force me to do something as stupid as they were, but I'm glad I was able to leave myself at night.
This also helped my study habits, which I didn’t develop in high school.
It's close enough to home that I can ride a bike (this is helpful in fitness, which is important in the program for firefighting professions), and I can also choose to walk if necessary.
On the other hand, living at home means I can’t bring a girl over to plunder her as my friends brag.
Alas, I've always been a virgin.
Of course, I never told them this.
This reminds me of the starting point of my normal start train, the ordinary, rich and dull atmosphere of life, which makes people involuntarily...uh...drift off the track.
Or the threat of derailment is approaching the brink.
During my fourth semester (last semester), I had to take an elective humanities course to meet the requirements of fine arts.
I chose the art subject because I thought it was easy to get credits.
I think the artwork itself is relatively subjective, right?
So you're unlikely to mess it up, right?
If the apples and bananas in my still life end up looking like briquettes and wooden strips, then I can explain that this is the artistic effect I want to present, which means that this is the intention I want to express, right?
It turns out that I prefer art.
One of my proof is that I spent years getting my nose stuck in a comic book.
However, this habit does not translate it into my love for art.
I never spent any time drawing anything, but I should have talent in this area, which is something I firmly believe in.
Even my teacher thinks the same.
Once after one get out of class she pulled me aside and asked if I was interested in working with an art partner at the university.
I don't know what a partner is from the Academy of Arts.
It turns out that a local art gallery provides training beyond what a vocational and technical school can provide.
They say it is an investment in the future of art.
It wasn't until later that I learned that this thing is a bit like American Idol or The Voice, and thousands of people are screened, and they may never catch the attention of music producers, but they are considered people with original talents.
In fact, not many people can stand out from it, but a few people who can stand out have made a lot of money for those who hold the show.
What these art partners do is try to find talent that will make them money.
In short, it is part of what is called the Art Laboratory.
The owner of the local gallery came to the school as a guest lecturer to carry out the event in a studio at the college.
It only takes place on Friday nights every week, and this arrangement is good because it won't affect my fire science class.
The course will last for three hours, so students can spend time on major projects without interruption.
Obviously, since Friday night is chosen, only serious and serious students will come to participate.
If you're a romance hunter, or you're an alcoholic, you'll avoid boring things like art labs.
I've dated a few nice girls since I was in college, but they all met in high school.
I really don’t have a lot of confidence, or at least not enough confidence to get close to the lively, independent girls I saw on campus.
In fact, this is one of the reasons why I choose art.
I have thought through the whimsical way that maybe girls who like art will like to choose quiet, polite men to date, like... a guy like me.
Actually what I want to say is that I don’t think that going to the art lab yourself on Friday night will affect my social life.
It’s also a great excuse to refuse a party, where alcohol flows like a stream, causing me to try to sneak into the room without my mom knowing I had drunk.
So, what are they doing there?I asked.
They do different things each semester, she said.I think they may have to do a study on human body this semester.
I think I can give it a try, I said.Isn’t it difficult to draw the human body?
This is true for some, but as you already know, it is also formulaic.We have reviewed the basics of this in class.Mrs. Gaskill will provide senior guidance.I think you can do this completely.
Well, next, I ask, where should I go?What should I bring?
********************
I arrived on the second Friday night as the studio as the art studio.
It is located in the basement of Ferrer Hall, a large building divided into two levels, and you have to walk through a long empty corridor to get there.
Because it is so quiet that it gives people a weird atmosphere in its feeling, and the flashing of some fluorescent lights on the ceiling adds this feeling.
I saw only one person in the corridor.
When I arrived at the location, I realized that the veterans had arrived very early, and Mrs. Gaskiel prepared delicious donuts and aromatic coffee drinks for the students.
She said everyone should not draw on hunger.
But I found that you shouldn't try painting with sticky fingers after eating the donut, of course this is another story.
If I had any questions, those doubts vanished when I first saw Mrs. Maureen Gaskill, the owner of Gaskill Gallery in the town.
I've seen Gaskill Gallery before.
It has a huge, stylized G as the logo.
Just from the appearance of the building, you really can't tell it's an art gallery, but obviously that mysterious, huge G made everyone ask what it is.
Mrs. Gaskill's sexy is like a deadly pistol.
She exudes a primitive, but restrained sexual desire, which makes me fantasize about going to Wushan with her to lingering Yunyu. Although I know she is married, the possibility of having sex with her in this world is very slim.
She is the real, living playboy bunny type that can make men have countless fantasies, but that's all.
She looked at me when I came in, but I knew it would be better not to stare at her.
My mom taught me that it would be better not to do this.
She was particularly obsessed with the goal of raising me to be a qualified gentleman who respects women.
The atmosphere in the laboratory is obviously different from that in ordinary classrooms.
There were about fifteen students in the classroom, and the easels filled the room, arranged in a semicircular shape around a high platform with a heart seat covered with soft cushions that looked like red velvet.
The easels are covered with blank canvas.
There are several easels with some semi-finished products on their legs, and some leaning against the wall.
Obviously, the experimental project of last semester was to draw certain types of machinery and equipment.
It might look like an espresso machine, tall and shiny, with lots of other things around it, like you see in a coffee shop.
And, it is obvious that many people did not complete the project before the holiday.
I'm a newbie, but no one treats me as a newbie.
Maybe we are all newbies.
I don't know either.
Everyone looked friendly and everyone was relaxed, which somewhat confused me because I was worried that they would laugh at me when they saw my work, or something awkward.
But then again, aren’t they worried that I will laugh at their works?
It turns out that artists, at least as beginners, have no judgment to judge other people's works.
Or, they are just for polite reasons in this regard.
If they think some of the works are really bad enough to be visible to the naked eye, they will just choose not to comment on it.
The time for the experimental subjects is up, and Mrs. Gaskill reminds everyone to keep quiet.
Her arms were folded under her breasts.
I also know it's better not to stare at her breasts.
However, this does not mean that I am not interested in her breasts.
We will do some research on the human body this semester.Our models will pose naked, giving us the opportunity to research and explore in terms of skin tone, shadows, and more.You don't need to try realism, but we don't accept any cartoon-like paintings, do you understand?You can choose the medium you like, but don't have to take too much risk.If you don’t have a skilled painting experience, stick to painting with pencil or charcoal for something more tolerant and easier to handle.This semester will be a special experience.I will tell you more about this topic later.
I know from regular courses that most art is done in stages.
When drawing human bodies, whether it is a human or other animals, the first step is to master the basic knowledge while observing the model; basic postures, forms, proportions, etc.
This is achieved by making circles, ovals, squares and similar shapes.
Then you turn those shapes into parts of the body, adding details.
After these are done, you can fill in the extra section yourself, or finish the precise details by looking at the model again.
At this point you can try something like drawing wrinkles on your skin, creases on your clothes, shadows, and similar things.
I wondered if the model was male or female, but I didn't ask.
I think I'll know the answer soon.
So I was there, relaxing and preparing to observe a naked body for the first time for a long time.I really hope this body is a female body.Now I'm ready.
As I wish, the model was a woman.
When this woman walked out of the locker room, slipped down her nightgown, and took her seat calmly in the love seat, the only thing I was not prepared for was... that woman would actually be my mother.
********************
There are some emergencies that you can’t control, they hit you like a tsunami, slapping you can’t resist, and then change the face of your life forever.
I never thought my mom was a sexy woman, just like I never associated my mom with sex, a sexual being.
She doesn’t know how to date and never goes out for a date, which never happened when I grew up.
I haven't thought there was anything strange about this.
My friend’s mother has never gone out for a date either.
I know there is a type of women called hot moms, but I have never met them personally to confirm this (Madame Gaskill may be an exception), and of course I have never thought that my mom belongs to this type.
I know mom has a pair of breasts because they almost squeezed out her shirt and skirt, but I have never seen them again since I got the necessary nourishment from them.
My mom has no habit of walking naked or half naked at home, nor does it when it is quiet; neither does I, nor does she, and she is mine...my mom.
I know most of you understand what I want to express, because most of you never thought that your mother was a sexy woman and never regarded your mother as a sexual being.
Or at least try not to think about it or not do it.
The problem is, in the seconds after I realized who the model was, that tsunami washed over me and everything changed.
She has my mother's face, but I suddenly can't treat her as my mother.
Remember the primitive sexual desire of Mrs. Gaskil that I mentioned?
This model also has it.
She did not try to show the scent of sexual desire.
But this is inevitable.
First of all, there was no extra fat on her body.
I know she is thirty-four years old, but she is like a twenty-two-year-old gymnast.
Although you didn't see every rib she had, in fact it was very similar.
Her thighs are strong and full, agile and flexible.
Her arms and neck had no extra flesh, and her neck was soft and slender like a white swan neck.
Maybe it was because her hair was tied into a ponytail.
I've seen her with a ponytail before, usually just to make things clean in the yard or similar situations.
Most of the time, she likes her honey-colored blonde hair to hang down naturally.
She kept her hair short, about to the point where she grew to her shoulder blades, and she had explained that such an image helped her sell the house.
Then there are…the rest of her body.
Mom's breasts didn't look as big as I expected, if I had ever thought I would have seen such breasts.
I don't know anything about women's breast cup sizes and things like that.
I could only say clumsyly that they were perfectly proportional to the rest of her body.
Their bottom is obviously round, but the top is gently tilted downward until they suddenly try to defeat the action of gravity.
In fact, it looks like her nipples may be trying to help pull the tip of her breast upwards.
Based on my experience with other breast photos in the past, these nipples look hard…erect…right.
The nipple present a maroon tone, embedded in small circles of areola of the same color.
Strangely, as I stared at the pair of breasts from my mom, I suddenly thought of ski jumping and then jumped…I've seen pictures of women's drooping breasts.
My mother's breasts are definitely not sagging breasts.
I guess this is the most polite and polite name for a woman’s private parts.
It was shaved and had no trace of pubic hair, the labia looked like some kind of strange fruit that had been split, and the soft pink inner flesh protruded out of the crack.
Will other women who are mothers also shave their own vaginas?
They probably won't do that.
If you have the courage to ask any child if his mother's vagina has been shaved, when he tries to beat you, he will say, No, you damn pervert!But the female model's pubic hair has been completely shaved.
You understand how difficult it is to treat her emotionally as my mother, right?
Except for mom, she obviously is.
All of this is easy to see because of her posture, because of the moment she finally settled down, and she showed it all.
She lay down on the love seat, supporting the chair with one elbow and holding her head with one hand.
She had a strange cylindrical pillow under her armpits to bear the weight of her torso.
Her calves remain mostly straight, but her thighs and knees are bent and raised to show themselves to our sight.
The leg's feet were just behind the knee of the straight leg.
Her upper arms were bent, her wrists were placed on her hips, and her fingers were hanging downwards, as if pointing at her genitals.
Her eyes seemed to be looking at us...me.
The expression on her face seemed to be saying: Finally here!I've been waiting for too long.Don't you love me enough?Don't you come to me when I really need you?
The tsunami I mentioned?
It was blood pouring into my cock, giving me an incredible, rock-solid erection.
For my own mom.
********************
Now, let's be more professional!Mrs. Gaskill rebuked, as if she knew exactly what was thinking in my rebellious mind.
Yes, that's right.One of the few boys in the room responded.
I would rather grow that myself.I heard a girl talking to herself like this.
This model I just can't see her as my mother lying quietly like a stone statue, not disturbed by those gentle and soft comments.
It was as if she knew she was a real goddess, and she no longer had any extravagance for her.
I know it is a provocative pose, Mrs. Gaskil continued, but if you want, you are free to choose your work this semester, and I can be responsible for submitting the erotic art exhibition scheduled for April in a major gallery in Fenghuáng City.They will reserve some space for their amateur works, and award certificates will also be awarded for outstanding works, including rewards.The grand prize is an invitation to showcase future works, which may lead to sales of works.I don't think there is any more to say?
Everyone whispered and expressed their interest.
At the moment, the erotic part should be easy, Mrs. Gaskill said.
Our models will be very inspiring to you in this regard.I chose her because she has such traits.This is against intuition, but what you need to pay special attention to at first is her face.I chose this model because she has what we want I mean on her face and you guys have to capture this expression keenly, which is crucial and very critical.You can put any body you want on her and draw it no matter how you draw it, but you must not ignore her face.
A man standing next to me whispered: Just like I want to become that body.
Yes.I blurted out without thinking.
But I can't say: buddy!This is my mom!Even though that's what I think.
I remember having a movie called this name when I was a kid, but I never saw it.
Mrs. Gaskil said: Don't fight any passion that the model creates in you.Let such lust guide your paintings.It is normal to have a little lustful feeling, and it's no big deal.Jennifer understands.I think she would feel unhappy if she didn't create these feelings in your mind.After all, this is what she wants to instill in you, injecting the passion you need into the artwork you want to create.
I blinked.
Mrs. Gaskill was basically saying, Jennifer…my mother…want to be sexy…want to make us all horny for even all the women present!
If she didn't achieve this goal, she would be disappointed!
If mom...her intentions fail, she will be disappointed!?
Absolutely no problem.A soft, feminine voice came from my left.I looked, but I couldn't be sure who said this.
This is not my mother.
It was obvious that my mom had a stand-in, right in Flagstaff, just that we didn't know about it before.
She must have a stand-in that is exactly the same as her, because if this model was really my mother, she wouldn't lie naked here for us to copy her body, and it wouldn't be possible for her to shave all the pubic hair in her chastity.
At this moment, the female model's eyes floated to me.The pupils of those beautiful big eyes widened, and she blinked at me three times.Then she swallowed and opened her lips.
However, she then turned her eyes elsewhere, and it all happened in silent silence.
However, in those eyes, a very clear message was conveyed, that was, she recognized me.
And I can't deceive myself, that's my mother...I said!That is indeed my mother!
********************
Did something happen just now?asked Mrs. Gaskil.
I glanced at her, she was looking at… the female model.
Your face is blushing like a newly married girl.I thought you were ready.
Sorry, my mother said in the voice of a bass singer: I just suddenly remembered something.I will calm down and try not to think randomly.
Quite the contrary, it makes you look more charming.It's like frosting on a perfect cake.No matter what aspect it is, please keep as much as possible and think about it more.
I don't want to review this for the next three hours.Mom sighed.
I see.After Mrs. Gaskil finished speaking, she turned to look at us.
Let's start writing.It is difficult and tiring for models to pose.Let's not cause trouble to our model and make it hard for her to do it.she almost roared.
A male student standing next to me said: I prepared a tough guy for her.
Don't try to be a bastard.A girl next to him said.She might be someone's mother.She may be old enough to be your mother.
That boy, I later learned that his name was Greg, and he didn't say anything more.
He walked to an easel and began to flip through the supplies on a small stand next to him.
I did the same thing and entered a state of self-painting. Although it was no different from others on the surface, I didn't know what I was going to do.
The girl (her name is Susan) is right.
This female model is indeed someone’s mother. She is my mother!
Honestly, I don't know how I survived these first three hours.
I think I could have left.
I might have to leave.
But part of me is no different from the others in the room.
None of them would voluntarily give up leaving and stop admiring the beautiful scenery.
Or partly because of her behavior, the only move that mom's movement in this lab was to slightly turn her head, and every two or three minutes, she would change, focusing on a student who came to paint.
When she did this, she stared at you alone, as if the boy or girl was the only human being in this room.
This close connection, this unique feeling is obvious.
She looked at me without any fear.
I'm sure only the body language expert can see how she sees me differently from others.
This actually helped me because when mom was looking at me, I found it difficult to look her in the eyes again.
Every time it was my turn to be stared at by my mother's openly sexual gaze, I tried to work on her facial features and avoid her gaze.
Some people may think that I should know my mother's face well, but that's not the case.
I saw something I hadn't noticed before.
For example, she has high and obvious cheekbones, which was a total surprise to me.
Without Mrs. Gaskyl, I'm not sure I'd start.I was just standing there, holding a pencil in my hand, staring at...the model...then she walked to me.
Starting from the model's head, Mrs. Gaskill said.
Place it one-third on the left side of the page edge and write down the basic shape and size you want.Then there is the torso.Leave the limbs to the end.Don't pay attention to the existence of the sofa until you like her body.You should already know this.
OKI said.
We discussed these issues in class with some of the other average teachers I knew.
Mrs. Gaskill probably knew this.
I doubt she knows why I just stared at the naked female model on the podium.
This immediately caused a small fantasy ripples in my mind. Mrs. Maureen Gaskiel reached out to find and accurately grasped my hard penis, and said, I guess it was.You have fallen in love with her body, right, you naughty child.However, the ripples of sex ended here.
In fact, my appearance was shocked, so I quickly took action and reached out to put the pencil on the paper.
She continued to wander and walk forward, observing the progress of other students.
Looking at Mrs. Gaskil's back, she played another role for me invisibly.
As I draw rough outlines such as circles, ovals, squares, and so on to block the sofa and body on the sofa, I focus on thinking about my guest art teacher, Mrs. Gaskill.
This is not surprising, because her talent in appearance and body is perfectly qualified for Playboy's standard requirements for nude models, and there will be no problems.
I mean, although I have never seen Mrs. Gaskil's naked body, a beautiful woman who is willing to spend time dressing up carefully should also have a wonderful and outstanding figure. Don't you think I'm right?
I've thought about a pornographic story about a dozen playmates in Playboy.
Not only is she a beautiful and sexy woman, but she seems to be accustomed to invading other people's private spaces during the teaching process, perhaps this makes her feel very comfortable.
There were a few times when she was very close to me. I could not only smell the fragrance of flowers on her body, but also a little worried that she would smell something from me.
She was wearing a wedding ring, which meant that a lucky man had announced that he had claimed her.
But a wedding diamond ring did not prevent me from having one or another beautiful fantasy of Mrs. Gaskil. These beautiful fantasy atmospheres create a romantic mood so that we can get together in an intimate way.
These are all stupid and small sexual fantasies that can only exist in the mind.
For example, I had fantasized that her husband was a Navy SEAL (he could not be less manly than that) and was not with her.
She loved him, but she had the need to be nourished by love, and I reminded her of him and became her husband's substitute to pour rain and dew on her body.
And in another scene, I became a handsome boy who sent express delivery when I delivered a bunch of art supplies to her house.
She came out in a loose robe and insisted that I stay there for a moment while she was counting the boxes.
Somehow, she was in a state of dishevelation and suddenly she was in a state of vagueness. She saw that my eyes were full of naked desires, but she could not resist me...
As I know myself, they are nothing more than stupid, teenage fantasies.
My mother would be frightened by these imaginations, because these visions have lustled Mrs. Maureen Gaskiel and made her mess.
But I only have a short time to belong to this teenager full of fantasy fantasy, so I am not ashamed to feel uncomfortable.
The thought of Mrs. Gaskil's naked body also helped me to be distracted and try not to think about my own biological mother's body.
And while I was staring at my naked mother.
This is the first time I have truly realized how complicated the taste of life itself can become.
But no matter what, I did get through the initial embarrassment and embarrassment.
After three hours, the female model stood up, put on her nightgown again, left the venue, and disappeared into a small locker room in a corner of the studio.
The rest of us started cleaning up.
As one of the members of the Art Lab, we could enter the lab any night the building is open, and Mrs. Gaskill talks about what we should do from now until next Friday night, but all I can think of is my mom, how she put on her bra and panties in that small dressing room, and then back to her normal outfit.
I cleaned it up slowly.
The cock in my crotch was still very hard, and I kept thinking about it. This may be the reason why I didn't see my mother coming out of the locker room.
So when I saw her waiting for me in the darkness, by the front door of the building, I was the last one to come out.
My nervous brain created another fantasy in which mom stood there smiling and shook hands like people shook hands at the end of Sunday’s service.
The students rushed to tell her how beautiful she was, or what a great model she was, how happy they were to try to capture the charm of her sexuality, and she always smiled and thanked them.
I have to admire my mother, she looks calm and calm.
Mai Mai... She said that was a very low voice.
Why?What the hell is wrong, mom?I suppressed my panting and harsh breath.
Let's talk about this after we get home, okay?Mom said.Now, do you want to take a free ride?
I rode my bike into the campus that day, but I could come and pick it up at any time when I was convenient.
After the bicycle is locked, it is placed in the fixed storage carport on campus.
Tonight, I just want to go home with my mom.
And I might not be safe enough on the street.
I am really upset now, and I can't concentrate on paying attention to the traffic conditions on the road.
I followed my mom out of the building without looking around.
I just do it like an autopilot, just following my mom’s advice.
I have many questions, but I don't know where to start.
Just like what just happened, if not for seeing with your own eyes, my mom has many secret lives that I don't know.
For many years, I have always liked to read comic books about some secret identities, hidden superpowers, and heroism that burst out with divine power at critical moments, but I don’t know that I have encountered such an identity in reality in life!
Although of course my mother cannot have any superpowers.
But it also shocked me.
I stared at my mom, wondering if she really had more secret identities!
I kept staring at her like this, trying to convince myself that this could really happen to her.
At this point, I kind of wish she had a dual identity and then it all became reasonable in some way.
Just because I stared at my mother with too much attention, I didn’t notice that the three classmates were walking towards us.
Don, Jerry and Phil (providing their last names doesn’t help the story) will be firefighters, just like me.They obviously drank alcohol and were in high spirits.
Did we come too late?Phil shouted, reminding me of their existence.Have we missed her?
It turned out that a friend of Tang had somehow known that there was a nude research in the art laboratory that semester. In his words, the model was very hot and sexy.
So it kept their sexual desire soaring and feeling hungry, so they made a decision while drinking and they needed to come and take a look at this sexy naked female model.
Panic grabbed my chest.
Is it her?Tang shouted.Damn, man, she's really sexy!
Get out of here!I screamed like a little girl out of control.
Yes I know.Even now, I'm embarrassed to admit it.This was the only counterattack I could think of at that time.
They stumbled towards us.
It was getting late, so the noise they made didn't really get people's attention, but my panic wasn't there, and it didn't matter to me as much as who would see or hear their yelling.
My concern is what they might see or hear when they walk up to us that shouldn't let them know.
The last thing I need is to let these bad guys discover that my mom is posing as a model for strangers to be nude.
It will be an epic story, perhaps the most epic legend that the fire science program has ever seen, with instructors telling one of the hottest topics of some of the rather crazy stories that have happened over the years.
Are these some of your friends?My mom asked, her voice as normal as it was during the day.
It's like an engineer seeing a train crash but can do nothing.
We were just standing there and they kept walking and didn't stop.
Jerry was the first to stagger in front of the three-man team, and I felt my mother's hand resting on my elbow as he stood awkwardly in front of us.
brother!Jerry sighed, staggering forward slightly, staring at my mom.She is so fucking beautiful!
Thanks.My mom said.
I could hear it from her voice.
She is about to laugh!
How could she laugh at this time?
This is the end of my life, for God’s sake!
I have to leave this school.
I had to go somewhere else and choose another career to start my studies.
This story will eventually cause a sensation throughout the industry!
Don and Phil caught up.Apparently, Phil is the one who drinks the least alcohol among the three.
Hey, do you know her?Phil asked.Ricky told me that I’m going to draw some nude chicks this year in art class.Is it her?
I fully understand the reason for this sentence.Mom and I were the only two people in a hundred yards, and her hands were pulled through my arms and held in my arms.
I...uh... that's it.That's all the sounds in my throat.
We are old friends.My mom said.
My head couldn't help but tilt my head and stared at her.
When I was fifteen, he was still a baby, so I took care of him.she added.
Are you his fucking nanny?Tang blurted out indignation.
It was almost the same, my mother said calmly as Tang said.He is such a cute baby.At that time, I couldn't help but fall in love with him.And now he has grown up!
This is fucking awesome!Jerry said angrily.
At that time, you looked at him naked every day, Phil said, now he turned around and looked at you naked.He grinned as if he had said the deepest things in centuries.
Not completely transparent, my mom said.I put on lipstick at that time.
My head turned toward my mother again.Mom was smiling, and all this was like participating in a fun little game for her!
Shit!Man… Jerry sighed.If I could see the naked body of such a nanny, I would pay any price.
I suddenly realized that my alumni had dirty mouths and obviously could not have normal, polite conversations.
Take care of your fucking stinky mouth!I rushed out.
I was suddenly very angry.
Somehow, things turned around.
I've been worried about what they'll think when they find out my mom.
Now I suddenly feel ashamed of my mother discovering the slutty and obscene nature of my alumni.
It's great to see you, sirs, mom said.But Mai Mai and I still have a lot to do, so if you don't mind, I plan to steal him.
Listen to it, she said she wanted to steal him.Tang sighed.
Bah, he also needs a nanny to change him into a new diaper!Jerry shouted sourly.
Beauty, I need to remind you, Phil said, his little brother may not be much older than you did last time you saw it.He smiled, and then he kept laughing like an idiot.
This is because he is indeed an idiot!
I will go and have a good look, my mother said, as if he is not an idiot.Do you guys also want to be firefighters?
Yes, damn, that's right.We are all.Tang said proudly.
OK, then, you three take good care of him.He is very important to me.If he gets hurt, I will break down.
He should be careful about your blow to him.Tang sighed again.
We can go with you, Phil said, and he seemed to wake up instantly.I would love to hear stories about his childhood.
No, no, my mom said, pinching my arm.All I want is him.
She wanted to enjoy him alone, Tang sighed.This really made me cry.
I was about to yell at them again, but my mother said in a casual manner: I don’t think so.In my experience, a drunk man can never be a good lover.
Mom took my arm and took me to the parking lot.
OK, you kids should be more obedient and obedient.Mom turned around and said to them.
During our first aid training, we learned that some of the symptoms of shock are: shortness of breath, shallow breathing, dizziness, weakness, anxiety, wide-open eyes, sweating, and confusion.
I had all of the above symptoms when my mom pushed me into her car and started.
However, I don't need medical services.
All I need is time.
Before her mother said the first sentence, she drove a car that seemed to be about twenty minutes long.
But I am sure it shouldn't be that long, because it's only ten minutes from campus to our house.
But then again, my mother didn't choose to let us go home directly.
She stopped at a wine shop next to the road.
You stay here.I'll be back soon, my mother said to me.
It's Ah, and that's the first thing my mother said after we left the campus parking lot.
She didn't explain, nor did she say things would be better like her mother, so she told me not to worry.
Instead, the first thing she said to me was to keep me in the car.
I finally had the opportunity to sort out my thoughts.
My heart rate slowed down and the color looked clearer.
Mom came back almost quickly, holding the long and tall brown paper bag that could be seen everywhere.
She had it in the trunk for some reason, maybe for some reason.
Then my mother got into the car.
Instead of starting the car immediately, she turned sideways to face me.
Sorry, I'm sorry, mom said.I really didn't expect this to make you discover.
How could I not know?I asked.
You didn't tell me you were studying art, Mom pointed out.Nor have you told me anything about what class you are taking.
I did not talk to you.I admit it.
I know boys like to distance themselves from their mother at your age, Mom said.It's still...a painful feeling.
I'm not trying to distance myself from you.I said.
Really?But after tonight, you will definitely hate me.
Mom, I can't hate you.I said.
Worry pierced my heart.
My mom is the only person in this world I can truly trust.
My mother took care of me through many difficult times, and I knew it was not easy.
She made unimaginable sacrifices for me, and I loved her more than anyone else in the world.
Even after tonight... I won’t hate me in the future?
I was just shocked, that's all, I said.Of course, until now, I'm still trying to understand what happened.
Mom started the car and reversed.She didn't explain anything more.
Fastening her seat belt, I reminded my mother because the tinging sound of the dashboard did not seem to attract her attention.
My mother just buckled her seat belt after reminding me, but her eyes were staring straight ahead.
It was only a few minutes' drive to get home, and when we got out of the car and walked into the house, there was still a nervous silence.
Mom took out a bottle of sour malt whiskey from her bag and unscrewed it.
I took a sip at the bottle and I heard the slight sound of her throat swallowing the wine.
This is new, or it should be said that it is my brand new discovery.
Because before, I only saw my mother occasionally have a cocktail.
Normally, moms only drink this type of gradual improvement (a cocktail made with orange juice and vodka) and watch the "Return to Crime Scene" episode or other TV shows as a pastime.
That, can I do some?I asked.
No, Mom answered without hesitation.You're too young.
But it is not as young as you can see your naked body and show off everything you have.I said.
My mother sat down on the recliner dejectedly, as if she was shot.She then took another big sip of wine.Drink very hard and fast.
You definitely think I'm a slut.Mom said.
I almost wanted to laugh.
I think the most unlikely woman in the world is my mom.
As far as I know, she has never dated in her life.
She never takes men home, nor spends the night outside unless she attends a real estate conference.
Even so, she would call me to say hello on nights like that.
If she was indulging in a hotel, she wouldn't call her son during sex, right?
You're not a slut, I said.
When I was in high school... she said.That's why I ended up getting pregnant with you.
Mom poured the bottle mouth against the corner of her mouth again.
Mom, I said softly, give me the bottle.I don't plan to drink.You drink too fast and too much.You will get sick like this.
I just wanted to earn some crazy money, she complained.I thought this would not cause any harm.I almost backed off, but Maureen kept persuading me that I would be fine…
Do you know Mrs. Gaskil?I asked, snatching the bottle of wine from my mother's finger.
About one-third of the wine had been drunk by my mother.
It turns out that without my stop, my mother could quickly kill the remaining drinks!
Let’s practice Pilates together (a functional body training that distinguishes yoga).She said.
I know my mom is a member of a gym.
The reason why a house transaction she had reached was successfully completed was because she sold the house to the owner of the gym.
I know that my mother attaches great importance to fitness training and even has an almost pious attitude, which I know allows her to maintain a beautiful body shape.
However, after experiencing the laboratory, I truly realized how great this made my mother's body shape.
So what?I said.
So you don’t hate me, don’t you hate me?
I knelt down in front of my mother's recliner.
I love you mom.I will Always Love You.Don't be upset about this anymore.
Mom moved forward and I got a slightly awkward hug.
You are the best thing that happened to me... the best in my life... Mom said.Suddenly, he lost control of his emotions and started crying.
If you want to destroy the will of a tall and powerful firefighter, then hold him and cry.Turn us into little rabbits, or something soft and weak.
He was an absolute bastard, and his mother cried at my neck, but he gave you to me.
I realized that the person she was talking about was my father.
This is another new thing.
Mom never talks about my father.
I asked my mother several times, and each time her answer was brief and consistent, she said: I don’t want him, nor do I talk about him.He will never show up in your in life.
My father, he… I asked, thinking that my mom might relax her guard at this moment and let some information leak out.
But what I got was a snoring sound in my ear...
********************
I have enough drinking experience (of course, my mom doesn’t know yet) and I find that drinking one-fifth of whiskey on a basic empty stomach can cause…well, well, a secret to letting people pass out.
My mother obviously fell asleep under the influence of alcohol, and her breath was even and normal.
I took this opportunity to carry my mother on my shoulders with my usual practice of the firefighter's transport method and I wanted to carry her back to her bedroom.
Realizing the fact that my mother's body was close to my body, the perfect breast that night I had stared at her for three hours was now like a touch touching my back.
Mom's pretty butt (I didn't actually see it, but I'm sure it's as perfect as the rest of her) is held in my hand.
I gently placed her on the bed in her bedroom, and my mother's evenly round thighs were more or less straightened to the ground, her feet apart to form a natural inverted V-shaped shape leading to the wonderful part.
Mom's honey-blond hair was scattered, covering her beautiful face.
To make mom feel more comfortable, I combed them aside.
To this day, I still think it is this trigger that causes me to think about taking off my mother's clothes.
I didn't do this to peek at my mom's body.
At least not completely accomplished.
I really think it would be more comfortable for her to rest and sleep without clothes.
However, to a certain extent, I think I went against my original intention in the gradual process and did deviate from the right track.
A little bit lewd.
I took off my mother's top first and took off her shirt. It was not difficult because my mother's upper body was as weak as noodles at this time.
But I was in big trouble when I was solving my mother's jeans tie.
The jeans were wrapped around my thighs, and the more I took them off, the tighter I hugged them. During the tug and pull, I accidentally pulled off my mother's underwear.
It was a pair of pink and blue, bikini-style panties.
If someone asked what kind of underwear or similar questions my mother would wear for jokes or other purposes, and if I didn't ignore him because of his perverted doubts, I might take it for granted what kind of underwear my mother would wear for general conservative old ladies, my mother would be like that, even if it wasn't exactly like that.
However, now when I see these slender, flowing, sexy styles, it doesn't seem surprising at all.
Especially after I see what they cover, I won't be surprised.
This result made my mother wear only a bra on her body.
It was already very difficult and laborious to remove these barriers from her. I didn't want to wear a set of pajamas for my mother anymore.
So I stood beside my mother's bedroom bed, thinking constantly in my mind, trying to imagine the scene when my mother woke up and found that she was wearing only a bra.
It will obviously make women with a personality like mom unable to accept it and make her creepy, at least this thrilling mood feel the same for me.
So I picked up my mother's pink and blue bikini and gestured to put them back on my mother.
When I was hesitating, I suddenly thought that when I was painting in the laboratory, didn’t I see my mother’s naked body?
No one knows this better than she does.
Since we mother and son already have this unknown close relationship, I took off my mother's bra and then took it out and hugged it and put it on and tucked it on.
I have to admit that I actually stared at my mother's naked body for a while before I covered her with the quilt.This is the part that makes people feel that I am vulgar.
Or, the thing that makes people feel vulgar is that my penis erected uncontrollably while doing this.
In the past, I would go online to choose some anonymous porn movies that are more interested in stimulating my erection, and then use masturbation to get rid of the erection state and feeling.
But what happened today is indescribable because my continued erection was due to my mother's naked body.
In the lab I could change my sight and point my erection at the butt under Mrs. Gaskil's back.
Or try to calm my desire.
However, here, in my mother's bedroom, I looked at my mother's naked body to the fullest while getting a high erection.
I didn't want to use any method to relieve the swelling and pain of my penis. I let this towering state last for a long time before I quietly left my mother's bedroom reluctantly.
The right track begins the first step to derailing…
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