I stand there in silence, doing nothing but blinking.
It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing. Mary actually did it.
Her shoulders are a fair, pale tone that almost blends in with the white of her bra strap. Like her son, she’s not particularly tanned. In fact, I’d call the whole family allergic to the sun with how pale they all are.
“Is that all you wanted?” She asks casually enough, big brown eyes blinking placidly as she stares straight at me. Eyes her son inherited but look so much better on her.
It all leaves me weak at the knees. A huge wave of relief washes over me.
HOLY SHIT! It actually worked.
The hypnotism… effect, or whatever you want to call it, applies to other people too, not just Bridget.
But wait… What if this request really is too simple? What if this is actually something Mary would be fine with doing for me?
Things of this nature are not something I’ve ever dared broach with the woman before. Why would I? As perverted as I am, I’m not a complete moron. That side of me was something I shared with Paul, and Paul alone.
Oh, God, do I really need to push further? I just hope he’s not going to be too mad when he finds out. Well… if he does. I could always keep the extent of this experiment from him.
An awkward silence permeates the kitchen as I stand there, deep in thought. Meanwhile, Mary goes back to her cooking, and not for the first time, do I find myself taken in by her beauty.
In some ways, the woman might act like a second mother to me, supporting and caring for me as my own would, but she’s not. More importantly, I don’t think of her as such. No, I think of her, on occasion, in a far more inappropriate way. In a manner I’d never think of my own.
Such thoughts come to the forefront of my mind at this very point in time. She really is quite beautiful, not in the drop-dead gorgeous, model kind of way, mind you. No, it’s a more homely kind of beauty. The term milf comes to mind. She definitely has the body of one, too. I mean, seriously…
DAMN!
She’s a short woman, all things considered, but what she lacks in height she makes up in other places. Specifically her hips. God, are they wide or what, but not in a fat way. No, I’d never use such a word to describe her.
Sure, she has a big ass and ample chest too. In fact, her body is, on the whole, softer than it is not, but all those curves are just… magnificent. There’s no other word to do it justice.
She has the kind of body I just want to curl up with and cuddle. Not only for sexual reasons, although there are plenty of those too. She even has the face for it, all soft and warm, with fluffy cheeks, kind eyes, and a gentle smile. I bet it would be so comforting to hold her tight, as a lover would.
A pair of glasses sits on her face, just like her son, though hers are more subtle than his thick rims. Similarly, she has rich, chocolate brown hair too. Hers is longer, though. Those silky smooth locks of hers fall down to her shoulders with only a faint curl here or there.
All it takes is a glance at her to leave my pulse racing. Gathering the courage to ask what I must of her feels like an impossible task. Still, I do it.
“Could you please show me your tits?”
The silence is deafening. My heart is on the verge of implosion. I can’t take the tension. I’m going to have a panic attack.
God, she must hate me now. How can she not after such a remark? Why did I think this was a good idea? Of course, this whole situation isn’t what I think it is. I’m such a fucking moron!
Then, like it’s nothing, she turns her head and smiles.
“Sure.”
HOT DAMN!
Just like that, Mary pulls her shirt up. Her bra comes with it too. She doesn’t remove either of them entirely. Instead, she simply moves both pieces of fabric out of the way to give me an unimpeded look at her chest, and what a chest it is.
I’m speechless. Honestly, how could I not be? A part of me can barely believe what I’m seeing. I’ve wanted to lay eyes on her boobs for so long, and now I finally am. It’s a dream come true.
Her tits are the best I’ve ever seen before, no questions asked. Of course, the only ones I’ve ever actually seen have been in porn. This is my first time doing so in the flesh, and oh boy does it not disappoint.
So soft, so big and bouncy…
That said, they do sag a little, but only a little. That’s unavoidable with her age, or her size. Still, they’re plenty round. Enough to make my cock throb in appreciation, but that’s not a very hard thing to do.
God, breasts are so amazing…
I practically drool over them. There’s no way in hell I could ever take my eyes off them. Every second is spent intently burning their image into my memory.
From the milf’s pale white flesh to those faded pink nipples sitting atop it all, I will remember every detail for the rest of my life. Speaking of the latter, the sight of them causes me to lick my lips. My instincts scream at me to lurch forward and wrap my mouth around them.
Damn, I want to suck on them titties so badly. Her large, puffy areola only makes that desire harder to resist. I’m tempted to give in; I really am. Alas, I can’t linger here for too long. Not to mention, indulging like that wouldn’t be right to Paul. He’s my best friend, and this is his mother.
How would I feel if he did the same thing to my own mother? Not great, that’s for sure, and already I might’ve done too much.
In time, Mary rights her clothes. It takes her a moment of tugging on her bra to make it sit comfortably again. Then, as quickly as she flashed her tits at me, she goes back to cooking.
“Thanks,” I say, not really sure why I do so.
With whatever is affecting her, I don’t think it’s really necessary. Still, it just feels wrong not to.
My head races a thousand miles an hour as I make my way upstairs. Only then does it truly dawn on me. It really is as we suspect. The effect applies to any girl, not just Bridget…
I can do whatever I want, have any girl I want. It’s too good to be true. How is any of this possible? It shouldn’t be, nor does it make a lick of sense. I didn’t do anything to deserve such fortune.
Back inside my best friend’s bedroom, the guy in question awaits me. Once again, he paces back and forth, this time though, with impatience written across his face.
The moment I open the door, his eyes snap to me. “What happened? You were gone for a while.”
Was I? It didn’t feel that long; then again, my mind was otherwise occupied, not like his, up here all alone.
“It worked,” I respond, keeping my answer short and vague.
He doesn’t need to know the true extent to which I tested the effect, lest I hurt him. That said, I swear, I’ll make it up to him somehow. There must be more than a few ways I can use this development to his benefit as well.
He slumps down in his bean bag, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Fucking hell… It’s real… all of it…”
“Here, I got you a soda while I was downstairs.”
I pass him the can I’ve held onto this entire time. My face gives nothing away.
As shocked as he is, he takes it without thought. Then, as he opens it, acting on autopilot more than anything, the contents spray in his face. Not a whole lot, mind you; I didn’t shake it up that much. I’m not an asshole. Just a little mischievous.
“What the… You cheeky bastard!” He laughs and shakes his head, but it did the trick.
Fetching a few tissues from the box on his desk, he cleans himself up. Then, while taking intermittent sips from the can, he asks. “This raises a lot more questions.”
“Like what?”
I have ones of my own, but I’m interested in hearing what he thinks are the most pressing.
“To start with, what does this… this… for lack of a better term, ‘free use effect,’ you seem to have on people look like from an outside perspective? And how do those experiencing your actions feel about it?”
That’s a curious place to start. I take a moment to stop and truly contemplate what he’s asking. That’s not a concern I gave much thought to before now, but that was short-sighted of me. So much so that the more I think about it, the worse I feel.
Even as perverted as I am, I have to admit the potential moral issues inherent in such a case are worrying. If Bridget were still aware of the absurdity of everything we did, deep down, as it was happening, and simply been unable to voice that opinion… Well, that’s the stuff of nightmares.
God, I hope that’s not how any of this works. No one should have to go through such a thing. I’d never be comfortable speaking to a girl again, lest I accidentally inflict that horror upon them.
A frown settles on my brow. “How can we rule out any… less than pleasant possibilities?”
“I have an idea,” Paul says immediately, not needing a moment to think about it. He must’ve come up with whatever this is while he was waiting for me to return.
“If you head downstairs again, I’ll remain up here and follow you, say a minute later, with the intention of tossing this can in the bin after I’ve finished it. You’ll then repeat the same thing you did with my mother before, and then when we’re both back up here, I’ll recount what happened from my point of view. More importantly, what I thought about it, and how it made me feel”
“Okay… Yeah, Let’s do it.” I nod along. It’s certainly a better plan than anything I could come up with. And if it doesn’t work, we can always try other variations of it until we find something that does.
With that agreed upon, there’s no time to waste. I head back downstairs right away.
“Oh, you’re back, Joseph.” Mary greets me once more with a bright, warm smile. “Can I help you with anything else?
Before I can respond and enact the plan, a thought occurs to me. For this to work, I really need to gauge Paul’s reaction to what he witnesses here. That means it has to be something that should normally get a rise out of him. I’m not sure simply having his mother flash me her bra strap would work either. And not if he knows it’s coming.
No, I need something more intense, and I have just the idea. I can only hope he will forgive me for what I’m about to do.
“Can I touch your tits?”
Unlike the last thing I asked of her, my pulse remains steady. It’s truly amazing what a little confidence will do for you. And without the risk of getting rejected, boy am I confident or what?
She doesn’t so much as flinch upon hearing my request. She does, however, ask a clarifying question. “Did you want to touch them over the clothes, or under?”
“Under,” I respond immediately.
I don’t even need to think about it. Neither does she. Maybe I should’ve, though. Over would be more than enough to get a similar result from her son. Oh well.
Once again, Mary pulls both her shirt and bra up, giving me unimpeded access to her chest.
“There you go, have at them. Enjoy yourself.”
Oh, I plan to.