My Mother is a MILF

The day that I learned that my mother is cheating on him, beginning to see her with other eyes

I can never forget the first time that, as an adult, I saw my mom fully nude. She was showering, and had left his mobile phone forgotten on the table in the living room. Suddenly, he got a message.

—Mom, we just get something mobile —I shouted, avisándola. But she could not hear me.

It was something instinctive. From the living room, I could hear the muffled noise of the water and the echo of their movements. I knew the password; I had scheduled the phone a few weeks prior to when you bought it. Curiosity beat me. I took his mobile and desbloqueé the screen. He had been sent an image.

The photo is opened in the display, revealing the image explicitly of an erect penis. It was a photo taken in the foreground, with lighting that accentuated every detail of the male anatomy. The skin seemed tight, the veins stood out clearly, and the tip was slightly damp, shining under the light. The fund was indistinguishable, but the intent was obvious and direct.

Immediately, I thought of dad, and a pang of pain went through my chest, imagining that she might be cheating on him. I had always believed in the strength of his marriage. The idea of mom, while maintaining a secret relationship with another man I found it hard to assimilate.

The weight of the situation was crushing me, and the knowledge of his alleged infidelity, although discovered accidentally, it made me feel guilty for having invaded his privacy. But I couldn't ignore the reality of what he had seen. I was tormented by the possibility to meet it, to face it with what I knew, and decide whether or not to intervene.

My mind was filled with questions and conflicting emotions. Who would have sent such a photo? And why? I felt a mixture of jealousy, surprise, and a strange fascination. I realized that I was invading their privacy, but I could not look away from the image. It was as if, suddenly, I had glimpsed a hidden world of mom, a part of his life that had ever imagined.

Move your finger up, checking that she had shared with the stranger, a so-Alberto, an image, a few minutes before getting in the shower. I opened it with my fingers trembling, and my mother's body appeared before my eyes. Mom appeared lying on his bed. I extended all I could picture, observing every detail.

Her fair skin contrasted with the dark background of the sheets, highlighting every curve of your body. Her blond hair stretched in soft waves falling down to his shoulders, framing his face with a sensual and ethereal. Their legs long and slender they were slightly apart, adding an air of nonchalance and naturalness to the pose. Her large breasts, firm and rounded, caught the light in such a way that made it appear that glistening.

The image left me breathless. Every inch of his body radiated a beauty and a confidence that I had never before perceived in my own mother. The contrast between the image I had of my mom and the woman who showed in the photo was overwhelming. I felt a mixture of admiration, desire and a twinge of insecurity. What was there in such Alberto that made her feel so free and uninhibited? At the same time I felt that recognition to his glorious body, it pained me greatly to discover this facet of his life.

While I tried to process what he was seeing, the sound of the water from the shower stopped and I rushed to close the picture and lock your phone. I stood there, with a racing heart, trying to sort out my thoughts. Mom would be out of the bathroom, and I had to decide how to handle what had just discovered.

The bathroom door opened and my mother appeared, wrapped in a towel with wet hair stuck to her neck. He looked at Me with a carefree smile, without suspecting what had just passed. I noticed a knot in the stomach, aware that our relationship had changed in a way that she could not yet imagine.

—I'm going to change fast and I — " said mom, disappearing into his room.

I waited to close the door before I approach back to your phone. My heart pounded. The curiosity and excitement mingled in a way that he could not control. It was as if a part of me, the most dark and hidden, was taking control.

I took the phone and desbloqueé again. The screen lit up, showing again the image of the penis of Alberto. I felt a rush of heat go through my body, an excitement that could not be denied. Slid your finger across the screen, searching for messages and photos.

I opened the last image that mom had sent. There she was, lying in his bed, completely naked. Her blonde hair spread on the pillow; her fair skin shone with the soft light of the room. Her long legs were slightly open, showing no modesty, his blessed pussy, pink and completely shaved, with lips incredibly thick and shiny. Her large breasts were exposed, with the erect nipples, as if they too were excited by the situation.

I couldn't help it. The image caught me completely. I expanded the photo to see every detail of her body, exploring every inch with my eyes. My breathing became heavier, and I felt how my own desire to not stop growing at the same time that my unfortunate erection, beginning to notice the smaller the hole of my boxers.

I let myself fall on the couch, unable to look away from the screen. My mind was filled with thoughts that were beginning to be conflicting: the morality of what he was doing, the betrayal of dad, and at the same time, an intense need and primitive that I dominated.

I thought this image had been taken and sent only a few minutes before, while I stared innocently enough the tv in the living room. While I was engrossed in a program either, mom was in her room, laughing and enjoying what I was doing. The idea bothered me and excited me at the same time, being born within me to new stimuli that he could not control.

I imagined the scene: mom, with your phone in your hand, lying on his bed, preparing to take that photo. The soft light of the room illuminating her naked body, her smile fun while I adjusted the camera to capture the perfect angle. I thought of how he would have laid down, each movement calculated to maximize the effect, to seduce the one who received that picture.

Quickly, I sent the photo to my own phone. He needed it, making sure to save it before that my mother could notice something strange. The excitement and the curiosity I drove, and I could not stop thinking about the implications of what I had discovered. The desire to explore more, I was burning inside.

Immediately, I began to seek an urgent need for more pictures on the phone of my mother. I knew I had to be cautious not to raise suspicion, so I looked through the photo album and the messages folder with anxiety. Each photo that I found provided me with a deeper insight into the private life of mom, revealing aspects of their sexuality that before me were completely unknown. In the first two, she posed completely naked on her bed, with both being very similar to the first, but I found a third one that was not taken in our house. My mother appeared, smiling, with her legs wide open and naked, sitting on a sofa with a glass of champagne in hand, as if he were toasting with the person that took the photo.

As I was surfing, I came across more images and messages, each one revealing more of her intimacy. Some photos show her body in different poses and angles, captured in moments of apparent nonchalance and fun. The variety in the images, ranging from selfies provocative pictures more explicit, only intensified my curiosity and my excitement.

Each image discovered increased my understanding of who my mother really was. I was surprised each time more as you see the frequency with which it shared its body and its desires, and how this is reflected in the interactions that you had with other people.

When I was already about to leave your phone overnight on top of the table, an image caught my attention: my mom was crawling in all fours on the floor, with a dog collar around her neck, and a string that is stretched out, showing a game of domination. The place was not identifiable in the image, but the scene was unmistakable.

My mother was dressed in a tiny g-string black color fading away right in the middle of their large buttocks, further highlighting her curvy figure. The garment barely covering what is needed, leaving much to the imagination. The image was loaded from a sensual hard and no-holds-barred, and every detail seemed to be designed to stimulate.

The combination of the collar, the chain and the position of submissive mom transmitting the eroticism wild. I was on four legs, with your back arched and your hands resting firmly on the ground. His hair fell haphazardly over his shoulders. The dog collar around her neck glowed under the dim light, and the chain hung heavily, adding an air of dominance and submission to the scene.

There was something in his face, an expression that made it clear that to be treated the way the warmed noticeably. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of submission and desire, his mouth half-open, biting his lower lip, as a signal to be suffering from an excitation unbearable. The cheeks, slightly flushed, and the look intense and expectant, will reveal the pleasure that was in that situation.

The contrast between the submission of your position and the intensity of his gaze was almost hypnotic. His body, wrapped in a g-string black barely covering their meats, exuded a sensuality, raw and uninhibited. Every curve of her figure seemed designed to provoke, and the whole image gave off a sexual energy that is palpable.

I felt erupt an explosion inside of me, flooded by a sea of feelings and emotions. Contemplating obsessively the image. The photograph was provocative, almost defiant in its brazenness. A wave of heat came over me inside, followed by a sense of shame for feeling what I was experiencing.

My mind was filled with questions: Who was the man behind the camera? How it had felt, mom, at that time? The answer was clear in her expression: she was enjoying every moment. The reality of seeing how my mother was treated like a bitch in heat. View prepared and given to another man that wasn't even her husband...

That was the first time, seeing the face of " mom, I instantly knew that I was horny. The image I desestabilizaba, stirring something deep and primitive inside of me. A mixture of jealousy, desire, and a strange admiration left me stunned. The Olivia I knew it perfectly in duet with this unknown version, and sensual, creating a confusion that I could barely process.

I looked at its buttocks, marked and reddened, punished by the hand of an anonymous man. The footprints were clear and strokes a pleasure painful that contrasted with the whiteness of his skin. Every brand seemed to have a history of delivery and domination, by increasing the air of eroticism wild that permeates the scene.

The feeling of being in possession of a secret so intimate, combined with the clear vision of the sex life of the mother, created a tension difficult to handle. I knew that this revelation would change forever the way in which it saw, but could not avoid the urge to discover more.

—Ready, let's go —said appearing in the room, ignorant of that just to discover her best kept secret. Unfamiliar that he had begun to wish for it above any other woman on earth.

I felt a shameful arousal that just left me to think clearly. The image of my mother with the dog collar and the g-string black, repeated over and over in my mind, each time with more intensity. The combination of your posture submissive and the explicit details of the picture stirred up in me a visceral response.

I got up from the sofa with difficulty, as if my brain had trouble coordinating the orders to my body. My gaze fell on her black dress, unusually short for someone who was married and had children. Now it was clear; she doesn't behave or dress as an ordinary woman, at least not in the same way that mothers of my friends. It is funny how our brain normalizes things, until an unexpected event reveals to us the true nature of people. The image of mom, with your posture submissive and your expression of being head-over-heels horny, broke the illusion of normalcy that had been held during all my life. In that moment, I realized that I had been ignoring obvious signs, and that the reality was much more complex and fascinating than I had imagined.

Since I was almost a teenager, had had to endure that my friends say, often quite rude, my mother was a very attractive woman.

—Which is like a train is the mother of Charles —used to tell my friends with a mixture of admiration and rawness. Exchanging glances and gestures swear.

I was silent, ashamed, while I was in my room, immersed in the world of the console. She used to come with any excuse trivial: to search for something in particular or just to give me a quick kiss on the forehead. It was not uncommon that their presence would cause a stir in the conversation between my friends once we cross the teenage. Every time I walked through the door, he felt how his eyes slid over her, as if they were assessing each one of its movements.

Often, your clothes desenfada to go home, dressed just with a long t-shirt, little more than a fourth below the hip, or those tight and cortísimos jeans, which made her legs seem endless, attracting the attention of all my friends, less of me. Although I was used to his presence, and his style, he never stopped be uncomfortable to witness how my friends looked at her with desires obscene. The conversations became more animated and full of comments insinuating in his presence, and the change in the tone of their voices made me feel a mixture of injury and discomfort.

Every time she got in my room, not only interrupted my private space and staff, but also brought with it an avalanche of unwanted attention. The admiration of my friends expressed not only made me feel uncomfortable, but it also reminded me of the disparity between how I looked and how others viewed it. But since then, for the first time in my life, I began to look mom in the same way that the rest of the men... to Know a little more me in devanandiny.com

Note of the Author. How do I create my mom is a Milf?

I am immensely happy and grateful for the confidence I have in my oldest son, Carlos. He is not only my best reader and my biggest supporter, but also helps me a lot to write my stories.

For a long time, Carlos has been an invaluable aid in my literary works, allowing me to write from other perspectives. Today I've filed this first chapter already announced on my website devanandiny.com. We have spent hours and hours exchanging impressions before you can write it, uncovering mysteries that not even I know...

Write "My mom is a MILF" has been a wonderful experience and enriching, in which I decided to leave to my son Charles as the narrator of the story, because it seemed to me much more thought-provoking and interesting to learn the story through his point of view and your own voice. Weekly, we will be putting up new chapters. I hope you enjoy it as much as we have writing it. A kiss, Olivia.

(To be continued)

#mother, #family, #son, #milf, #united_family, #stories,