I can't tell you what started it. Maybe hormones. Maybe, as we'll see, genetics. Maybe just dumb luck. But something sparked in my mind one day - I suddenly saw my mother as a sexual being.

I had experience with girls, but was still a virgin. Yet I was halfway through high school and my sex drive was exploding. The focus of my desires was almost always the tits, so I quickly began to obsess over my mom's breasts. Suddenly, they were all I noticed about her. Sure, I had noticed them before but now I had a growing fixation. And, to be fair, they were really nice. Mom was in her early thirties and had kept her figure. She had shoulder length red hair and a pretty face. And, as for her tits, a quick check of her bra drawer told me they were 36C. At the time, I wasn't sure what that meant, but I knew they were what I wanted.

I had only one encounter involving Mom and her breasts before things got really crazy. I was in the dining room and Mom was on the phone. Remember when telephones were connected to the wall by cords? Anyway, she was still in her nightgown, talking to a friend. I could see the shape of her tits through the fabric and it was driving me crazy. So, I just happened to drop some papers I had in my hands. I got on the floor, picking them up, but took the chance to twist my head quickly so I could look up the nightie. She had on panties, but there were her boobs. No bra, fully exposed, just sitting high and gorgeous on her chest. I could look for only a second, but I jerked off to the memory of that view a lot!

Nothing more would have come of it, I'm sure, had I not passed her bedroom one morning before school. My bedroom was next to my parents'. The door was cracked open and I could see just enough to realize that she was getting dressed. Dad had left already for work. I just stood there and watched as she took off her robe and slipped her nightie over her head. She had on some pink cotton panties, but otherwise she was naked. She slowly stretched, raising her arms above her head, bending over to touch her toes, and then back up again. I watched enthralled as she did her exercises. Then she sat at her dressing table, brushed her hair, applied basic makeup.

My cock immediately sprang to its full length under my towel. I gripped it and slowly stroked to the sight of my mom. She was seated at such an angle that I didn't think that she could see me. She certainly didn't react to my watching her. Then, Mom slipped her hand under her panties and clearly began to finger herself. It was incredible to see her, slowly becoming more aroused, writhing a bit in her chair, gasping as the climax approached. When it arrived, she threw back her head, eyes closed, making a sound something like a mix of a growl and a meow.

I couldn't hold it back much longer. Quietly, I hurried to my room and fell on my bed. Frantically, the sight still fresh in my mind, I masturbated to the image of my mother masturbating. I remember groaning as I finally came, soaking my sheets with cum. I hoped she hadn't heard it. Still a bit hard, I quickly stroked myself back to fullness and came again, moaning into my pillow - "Mom!" - as I did so.

As I lay there, catching my breath, I heard footsteps in the hall outside my door. Mom was walking toward the kitchen. I gathered myself, got dressed, and went out to tell her goodbye before going to meet my bus. She seemed perfectly normal. I breathed a sign of relief, and left the house for school.