Ramesh was my best friend in high school. He and I were both 19 when this story took place. I was always over his house and he mine. Unlike a lot of stories here, his mom was average looking. Not a striking beauty by any means, but to a 19 year old boy anybody with tits got your attention.
Ramesh’s mom’s name is Narmada, but I always called her aunty (She is still alive and I’m not sure I want to use their last name.) Well, she was about 5′ 6″ tall and thin. She was in her early to mid 40’s. She had small breasts, probably a b cup, but to me they looked great. As I spent more and more time there, I noticed that she was always wearing blouses with a scoop neckline. And that very time she bent over I could see down into it. She always wore a bra, but her breasts hung down inside it and to me looked great. Usually I managed to offer her my help doing things around the house. I helped put clean linen on her bed a lot as that afforded me a good opportunity to peek down her blouse as she bent over to make the bed. I never was sure if she knew what I was doing, but since I offered my help and she always accepted, I didn’t care. But in my mind I did wonder if she was showing herself to me on purpose. My answer would come in the winter of 1971. This is when the real story happened. I was over Ramesh’s on a Saturday afternoon when it started to freezing rain. As the storm got worse Ramesh asked his mom if I could stay the night rather than attempt to drive home. I was given the ok and called my parents to let them know.
A short time after that Ramesh went into the basement to work on his motorcycle and that left me with his mom in the living room. I was a klutz with mechanical stuff, so he never asked my help. She went in to the kitchen to do dishes and I followed and offered to help. “Oh, no” she said, I’ll get them. There aren’t many to do.” As she washed and rinsed I stood leaning against the refrigerator and watched her from behind. She had a knit pullover shirt and jeans on. Whenever I had the chance I always watched her as I was fascinated with the thoughts of older women. Even if she was my best friend’s mom, that never stopped my dreaming and imagination. I do not know what got into me, but that afternoon as I stood behind her, I made up my mind to try something. What I wasn’t sure, but I would try to find out if she was deliberately showing herself to me or not. As she was doing the dishes, we talked and then I moved right behind her and started rubbing her shoulders. She jumped, I startled her, but then relaxed and said it felt good. I continued my massage going in wider and wider circles across her shoulders and down her back. Then, I reached for the edge of her shirt and slipped my hands under. I continued to rub her shoulders and back. I could feel her bra straps as I rubbed and thinking of breasts got me hard. Narmada stopped talking when she realized I was under her shirt. I waited for her to yell or tell me to stop. She didn’t. Instead, she whispered “Just don’t let Ramesh catch us like this. He’ll never believe that this is an innocent back rub.” Yea, right I thought. Innocent to you, but I got other ideas. Since she did not stop me I kept on massaging and rubbing her shoulders and back. Then as my hands went to her shoulders I kept going aver the tops and lightly touched the top of her breasts with my fingers. Still, she did not stop me, so I went further.
After a couple of minutes I circled my arms around her and using both hands began rubbing her breasts thru her bra. They felt great to me. And boy did my cock get hard. At last I was touching her breasts, even if it was with her bra on. I held my breathe and waited for her reaction. Is wasn’t long in happening. She dropped a dish into the dishpan and let out a startled squeal. But it was a quiet one. “Shiva!’ She hissed. “What are you doing” I leaned over and answered her.” What I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I wanted to feel your breasts for months, but wasn’t sure how you would react. But after all the times of you wearing low cut shirts and bending over showing me a hint of them, I just decided to go for it and see your reaction.” I noticed that she did not try to move away or stop my hands in any way. Narmada said ” I always thought you found me tempting, but never thought you would do something.” ” Do you want to stop?” I asked. “No. It feels too nice. I haven’t felt this way in a while, what with Ramesh’s dad in the hospital for so long.” ” Just be careful and don’t let Ramesh catch us.” She answered. We could both hear him working on his cycle thru the door to the basement. We would have to pay attention to him as well as what I was doing tom her.
I continued rubbing and kneading her breasts and she stopped doing the dishes and just leaned against the sink. As I kneaded and squeezed she started to breathe deeper and little sighs or moans escaped her lips. She tried to be real quiet, but I could still tell she was enjoying my playing with her breasts. I then took a chance and brought my hands behind her and quickly unhooked her bra. I slipped my hands under her straps and back around to the front onto her bare breasts. “OHH, my!” She sighed. “Your hands feel so good on my tits.” I couldn’t believe it. I was feeling my best friend’s mom’s naked tits and she was letting me! Boy was my cock getting hard now. I started playing with her nipples, rubbing them between my thumbs and fingers. They started getting hard and long. “OHHH, GGGOOODDD” She whispered. “your hands are driving me nuts. I haven’t felt like this in months. Please Don’t stop.” Just when I felt things were moving along okay, I realized that the noise from the basement stopped. I quickly pulled my hands from under her shirt and whispered that Ramesh was coming up the stairs. Narmada, spun and left the kitchen to go up to the bathroom to fix her bra and straighten out her cloths. Wow, almost caught! As Ramesh came into the kitchen eh asked where his mom was and I simply told him the truth. She went to the bathroom. Still to continue……….. Females of any age interested to have me can mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org