Trippin 20

trippin 20

I went to the kitchen to make coffee while Charlie cued the movie.  When I got back, I was glad to see that low budget movies had not improved.  Bobby was a pot smoking and selling kid, who got kicked out of college.  When he got home, he found that he had a source for the pot, but no customers.

For the next 90 or so minutes I watched his mother, who was the owner of more silicone products than a tire store, and his sister try to help Charlie find his way in the world.  I would comment on how bad the actors were, if I didn’t feel really bad calling those people actors.

The woman who played the fifty year old mother had a bad cosmetic surgery addiction, in addiction to her supposed pot addiction.  The pot could be faked, but not those pumped up boobs, and a faced stretched tighter than a bicycle inner tube.

When Bobby’s mom caught him smoking pot, he agreed to give her some to try.  After all, if she was going to lecture him on the evils of smoke, she should at least know what she was talking about.  It was at that point that I saw Mom’s boobs for the first time.  They were truly something men might lust after, but no sane woman would.

“Well her boobs aren’t too bad for an old lady I guess,” Charlie said.

“Charlie honey, those are not boobs.  Those are jelly filled balloons under her skin.” I said.

“So, do all natural women your age have saggy boobs?” he asked.

“Some more than others but all women show the effects of gravity, even those with implants do eventually.” I said.

“So why don’t you sag?” he asked.

“I do sag Charlie.  I wear strong bras to hide it.  Sometimes push up bras help as well, but I don’t sag as badly as some women.  That’s because my breasts are small.” I explained.

“How small?” he asked.

“36B, it’s not terribly small but far from the size desired most by men in surveys.” I said,

“Are you wearing a bra now?” he asked

“Of course I am honey,” I replied.

“What kind?” he asked

“A strong rear hook model.  They are the most common.  At least the most purchased and worn in this country, I think.” I explained.  I really was trying to school him.

“So show me,” he demanded.

“Show you what?” I asked  honestly feeling a little lost in the conversation suddenly.

“Show me the world’s most common bra please.  Just so I will recognizes it when I see it again,” he said smiling broadly.

“You are totally insane,” I said with my eyes on the old movie actress’s pumped  up boobs.  She wasn’t just a fake, she was a bad fake in every way it seemed..  

“Come on mom, do you want me to think all  you older women look like Bobby’s mom?” he asked it all smarmy.

“Of course not,” I suggested.

“Then just show me your industrial strength bra,” he said.  “What’s the harm in that?”

“There is no harm,” I answered.  I leaned forward and lifted the knit top over my head.  It left me sitting in jeans and a strong white rear clasp bra.  I had more on than I had most of the nights I was on the road so I didn’t see anything wrong in it.  I would consider the exchange of a soft thin tee for the bra a fairly even swap, but the jeans for panties was a definite exposure of more skin in panties.

“Well you are right your boobs are smaller than most of the girls at school.  Some of them might be enhancing them one way or another though,” Charlie suggested.

“Some might, be but I really am small honey,” I said.

“This conversation is a lot more interesting than the movie, but I do like having the movie running in the background,” Charlie suggested.

“I can understand you feeling that way, porn and a real woman with her top off sounds like a college boy’s dream date,” I suggested.

“Well you did say you would be my date,” he laughed again.

“Yes, but I didn’t say I would be a good date,” I admitted.

“You are promising date,” he said laughing.

“Are you saying I’m a tease?” I asked faking indigence.

“That remains to be seen.”   When he looked at me he was smiling but not with any humor.  I had just enough to drink, so that I missed the look of the predator in his eye.  It wasn’t the kind of look to send me running anyway.  It was just the kind of look that would have told me to stop drinking and pay more attention to the vibe I was giving off.  In short it was more my dad’s look than his dad’s.

“So, I see you have lost some weight on your road trip,” he commented.

“Yes, I lost over twenty pounds and even a couple more since I got home,” I suggested.

“Good, you needed it,” he said without anything to soften his words.

“Well thanks for noticing anyway,” I suggested in a somewhat disappointed tone.

“So do men stare at you more now?” he asked.

“Frankly no more than usual, which wasn’t much,” I replied.

“I would stare at you, if I met you out in a bar,” he said.

“Charlie you are too young for clubs,” I informed him.

“Sure,” he replied.  The sarcasm was dripping from his voice.

“At least tell me you don’t hit on women my age,” I demanded.

“Wouldn’t you rather have the truth?” he asked with that grownup look he had been flashing at me.

“Ordinarily yes, but in this case, I not sure,” I suggested.

“One of my friends told me that women your age were harder to pick up cold, but they were much easier to score,” he informed me.

“You are going to have to explain that one,” I said.

If I met a woman like you at say a wedding, I would expect it to be very hard or impossible to pick you up.  But if I did, the chances of having sex with her would be twice those of a stranger my own age,” he explained.

“Now explain how you know those figures are true,” I demanded.

“Can we agree there is no such thing as an average woman?” he asked smiling dangerously at me.

“Not an average anything I think,” I agreed.

“Let’s see if we can agree that a 40 year old woman in a college bar is more likely to be into college men, than say that mythical wedding guest?” he asked.

“Okay that part of your equation I can go along with,” I admitted.

“I call it situational selection.  If I am in a college bar, and I see a middle aged woman, the odds are she is looking for someone like me, so I give it a try.  Odds are also sex is less dramatic, but just as pleasurable,” he inserted.

“Okay I can see your point, even if I’m not sure of the numbers.  So how about the wedding guest?”

“Now don’t freak out, but I see her as you.  You go to a wedding, and for one reason or another you are insecure.  You have been kicked around some so you are the wounded bird.  If I can convince you that I’m genuine, and worth the effort, you will be a great lover I’m sure.”  

He made me a little uncomfortable, but I tried not to show it. “Well that was quite educational,” I admitted.

“Would you fall for something like that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“Sure you do, you just don’t want to answer me.  It’s okay I under stand.”  He paused a long moment then asked, “Would you ever consider doing something special just for me.”

“Whoa,” I said readying myself for the worst case scenario.  I had been having a sort of adult chat with my college age son.  Which meant a sex chat with my horny son, which would surely offend some people.  It would have offended me a couple of hours before probably, I thought.

“Nothing like that,” he said no doubt picking up on my concern.  “What I was wondering is if you would prove to me that you see me as an adult, not a child.  I am an adult you know.”

“Charlie, I don’t know why but this conversation is turning a little worrisome,” I admitted.  “I will make  you a deal.  I will not be offended by what you ask, if you promise to not be offended by my answer.”

“There is no reason that either of us would be upset.  All I was wondering was if you would dress for me like you would a date.  I mean around the house not outside.”  He asked it with a boyish smile.

“That depends on how your dates dress for you around the house,” I said.

“The last woman like you, that I dated, wore a lot of soft knit tops.  Pretty much like you do, but, when I came over, she didn’t wear brassieres .  She also did not wear much else.  The knit top and small panties were pretty much all she wore.” he informed me.  Then he waited for my response.  

“Charlie, that is a little to close to that line for me,” I said.  “I am truly sorry.”  I found that I was sorry,

“I understand.  It is just something that would make me happy.  Knowing that you saw me as an adult, an intellectual equal of sorts, and that you loved me so much that you were willing to be a little embarrassed to make me happy would be quite a pleasant thing.” He added.  

He paused a long moment and believe it or not I felt guilty.  Now that was truly stupid of me.  Then he looked at me again and added, “Please.”

“Charlie, if I do this, there is nothing more, you do understand that?” I demanded.

“Yes mom, I do understand,” he replied.

I stood and walked to the walk in closet,  I know it was sick, and crazy as well, but I pulled a red soft tee shirt from one of my drawers.  Then I removed my jeans and bra.  I stood in my panties to take a look at myself in the mirror.  I found that my panties were wet and see through.  I had felt all along that it was too exciting and it seemed that I had the proof.  I knew that I needed to redress and get rid of Charlie, but I didn’t.  Instead I went back outside in a red tee and a dry,white pair of panties.

“Very sexy,” he said.

“I’m not sure that is the kind of thing we should be saying to each other,” I suggested,

“It’s just words, and words can’t really hurt you.  You and I both know that we can take them back anytime we want.  Words work differently for people who are lawyers or the children of lawyers,” he informed me.

“Alright then just words,” I replied fixing myself another glass of wine.  “What words do you have in  mind?”

“Do  you shave your pussy?” he asked.

I had to give it a lot of thought before I answered, ”No I don’t.”

“You should, I would like that,” he said seriously.

“This isn’t supposed to get this serious,” I said.

“I never agreed to that,” he said.  Then he just stood there staring at me.  After some time passed he moved to sit on the sofa then asked,  “Did you realize that your nipples are hard and you have a wet spot.”  

“I’m not surprised,” I answered quietly.

:I’m a little surprised, that you aren’t surprised,” he said,

“So am I,” I replied.

He paused a few moments then said,  “Why don’t you move over and sit beside me?”

“Bad idea Charlie, I’m good right here,” I said.

“But I’m not good with you way over there,  You need to be here, so that I can reach you, and you can reach me.  If it goes that way. One never knows.” He said,

It took me a long time but in the end I went to my bedroom and locked the door,  I was reasonably sure that I had made a mistake and that I would not be able to just say do over.


About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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7 Responses to Trippin 20

  1. jack says:

    Very interesting chapter . Thanks Jack

  2. cindypress says:

    While I was working on it last night I kept thinking of the first time I was talked into going along with that kind of thing. It was sorta like that more intellectual than emotional. Of course the rest came later. I wondered it if would sound even remotely genuine to you guys.

  3. jack says:

    Sounds more than genuine . At some point in growing up especially if Mom started the family at an early and kept herself in shape most yearn to see Mom as a sex partner or teacher some of us even acted on or tried to. Thanks.

  4. shooter says:

    Sorry Cindy but incest is not my thing. You can do so much better.

    • cindypress says:

      I hope what I do is make things I don’t do myself seem understandable. I can’t save that after my mother pass and my father saved my ass at 35, I wouldn’t have gladly given it up for him, but I never did. So I am writing purely theoretical here.

      Not to worry about my kids, they just see me as just old mom. Nothing sexual here move along is their thinking.

    • Walt says:

      Of course….
      Incest is not for some yet is for some
      Gay marriage is not for some yet is for some
      People living together unmarried is not for some yet is for some
      People having babies out of wedlock is not for some yet is for some
      It is easy for some to condemn other’s beliefs,
      yet we never condemn our own beliefs.
      Ever know a critic who thinks driving 10 mph over the speed limit is ok and makes excuses for it?

      Cindy is a good teller of stories. Leave her to write as she chooses.

      • cindypress says:

        Thank you Walt but I think sometimes I need to remind myself and the readers that I don’t endorse what I write about but it doesn’t mean that I don’t come into contract with it. I try to understand all kinds of conduct especially those acts I don’t agree with. It is easy to stop seeing people you don’t agree with as human, and that’s when I think we get into trouble as a society. I can hate the deed and still love the doer my mom used to say. Mostly about me as a teenager.

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