21-08-2019, 06:26 PM
After lunch, we went upstairs to look at the website. I had created a page listing all her pieces with associated email links identifying the work if someone was interested. I didn’t have enough information to create a proper shopping cart but could do that later if this first bit produced any results. I had put the photos in place but needed names and a short description for each piece. Mom proved to be excellent at dreaming up catchy names and artsy bits to say about them. It came naturally and it dawned on me that this was what she was thinking when each piece was created. She was simply recalling how she felt during that process. I marveled at the inspired look on her face while this happened, though I must admit, my eyes strayed downward several times to appreciate the heart she had put into it too. Mom’s shirt was open to just below where her breasts swept off her chest and the sides were alternately covered and revealed, sometimes in quick succession but other times mostly covered and then mostly exposed. I even managed to glimpse the side of her right nipple several times.
Mom was ecstatic when we finished and asked when the first sale was likely to happen.
“It will take a while Mom, maybe a week or two before the site even gets noticed. We have to market it first.” Mom responded with a simple, “Oh,” but quickly recaptured her enthusiasm. “Well, I should get back to work.” She started to get up, then turned back to face me, twisting her chair toward me a little. “I know you’re still worried about me, sweetheart, but I really am ok.” I started to protest but Mom interrupted. “I saw that you were worried a few times.” I guess staring at Mom’s tits was evidence of me being 'worried’. “Look, honey. Would it make you feel better if I checked myself several times a day? It isn’t necessary, but would it make you feel better?” I nodded as if greatly relieved. I had better act really worried or I would sure as hell be in deep shit. Mom pulled her shirt apart, almost exposing her right tit in its entirety. She felt underneath, her fingers searching for and finding the little lump. I stared at her exposed nipple which, as Mom’s fingers lifted her breast, pushed magically upward. My mouth dried and I found it difficult to breathe. I guess I looked pretty anxious along with sucking in my breath because Mom reacted right away.
She sat up straight and smiled encouragingly at me. “Would it make you feel better to check it yourself, honey?” I looked into Mom’s face, thankful for my slow comprehension and the blank look it provided for my face to wear. “Check it myself?” I finally managed to say, afraid to believe what I thought I was hearing. “Yes. Here.” Mom grabbed my hand, as she had the day before, and placed it on her breast. “Go ahead, honey.” My fingers tentatively closed around Mom’s beautiful globe, capturing the meatiest part, and slid underneath in search of the little lump. I wasn’t as adept at finding it as Mom and she had to interrupt my search. “It’s here, honey,” she said, guiding my finger to the right spot. “See how little it is? It’s even hard to find.” Mom pulled my hand away in hers. A sense of disappointment welled up in me but it was squashed by the sheer joy of handling Mom’s tit and the knowledge that this could be a daily event if not more often. I was thrilled. I was in heaven. Could it get any better? “Here, honey.
Check the other one to satisfy yourself it’s ok too.” Mom dragged my hand under her shirt to her other breast and held it there. Immediately, I slipped my fingers around its orbit, gently searching for telltale little bits of hardness. I couldn’t find any but Mom didn’t interrupt me this time, instead letting me check longer to assure myself that she was safe. The feel of her skin made my fingers tingle, a sensation that ran up my arm and made it tremble. “Well, I guess I’m good to go until tonight,” Mom joked as she got up to leave. “Until tonight,” I repeated, not meaning anything. “Tonight,” Mom repeated. “I usually check myself before going to bed.” Belatedly, I turned to watch her go but only managed the briefest glimpse of her shapely bottom. Could women get lumps there, I wondered. I turned to the computer and opened Google. Mom came downstairs and presented herself to me in the living room that night after she and Dad had gone upstairs to go to bed. “I almost forgot about my check-up,” she explained her reappearance. She stood expectantly in front of me in her bathrobe, still cinched tight by a bow in the terry cloth belt.
I got up and stood close to her. Mom smiled but didn’t make a move to take my hand like she had before, or to offer her breasts for inspection. I glanced up the stairs. “Your father’s in bed,” Mom said. “Oh,” I responded. Tentatively, I stretched out my hand and tried to pull the lapels of Mom’s robe apart without success. “You have to undo the belt, silly.” “Oh.” I pulled one end of the belt, expecting it to come completely undone but was left in a knot as often happened when I rushed to get my running shoes off. “Damn,” I muttered. Mom giggled. I struggled with the knot while Mom waited. Nervously, I glanced several times up the stairs but Mom didn’t say anything, nor did she look impatient. Finally, I got the bloody thing undone and pulled Mom’s robe apart. Underneath, she wore a long nightgown with a long V open to her waist that was held together by three sets of laces, the uppermost already undone. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to check through the thin material or try to get my hand in through the top. I debated for several seconds while Mom continued to wait patiently, then abruptly tugged the end of the second lacy bow.
Mom was ecstatic when we finished and asked when the first sale was likely to happen.
“It will take a while Mom, maybe a week or two before the site even gets noticed. We have to market it first.” Mom responded with a simple, “Oh,” but quickly recaptured her enthusiasm. “Well, I should get back to work.” She started to get up, then turned back to face me, twisting her chair toward me a little. “I know you’re still worried about me, sweetheart, but I really am ok.” I started to protest but Mom interrupted. “I saw that you were worried a few times.” I guess staring at Mom’s tits was evidence of me being 'worried’. “Look, honey. Would it make you feel better if I checked myself several times a day? It isn’t necessary, but would it make you feel better?” I nodded as if greatly relieved. I had better act really worried or I would sure as hell be in deep shit. Mom pulled her shirt apart, almost exposing her right tit in its entirety. She felt underneath, her fingers searching for and finding the little lump. I stared at her exposed nipple which, as Mom’s fingers lifted her breast, pushed magically upward. My mouth dried and I found it difficult to breathe. I guess I looked pretty anxious along with sucking in my breath because Mom reacted right away.
She sat up straight and smiled encouragingly at me. “Would it make you feel better to check it yourself, honey?” I looked into Mom’s face, thankful for my slow comprehension and the blank look it provided for my face to wear. “Check it myself?” I finally managed to say, afraid to believe what I thought I was hearing. “Yes. Here.” Mom grabbed my hand, as she had the day before, and placed it on her breast. “Go ahead, honey.” My fingers tentatively closed around Mom’s beautiful globe, capturing the meatiest part, and slid underneath in search of the little lump. I wasn’t as adept at finding it as Mom and she had to interrupt my search. “It’s here, honey,” she said, guiding my finger to the right spot. “See how little it is? It’s even hard to find.” Mom pulled my hand away in hers. A sense of disappointment welled up in me but it was squashed by the sheer joy of handling Mom’s tit and the knowledge that this could be a daily event if not more often. I was thrilled. I was in heaven. Could it get any better? “Here, honey.
Check the other one to satisfy yourself it’s ok too.” Mom dragged my hand under her shirt to her other breast and held it there. Immediately, I slipped my fingers around its orbit, gently searching for telltale little bits of hardness. I couldn’t find any but Mom didn’t interrupt me this time, instead letting me check longer to assure myself that she was safe. The feel of her skin made my fingers tingle, a sensation that ran up my arm and made it tremble. “Well, I guess I’m good to go until tonight,” Mom joked as she got up to leave. “Until tonight,” I repeated, not meaning anything. “Tonight,” Mom repeated. “I usually check myself before going to bed.” Belatedly, I turned to watch her go but only managed the briefest glimpse of her shapely bottom. Could women get lumps there, I wondered. I turned to the computer and opened Google. Mom came downstairs and presented herself to me in the living room that night after she and Dad had gone upstairs to go to bed. “I almost forgot about my check-up,” she explained her reappearance. She stood expectantly in front of me in her bathrobe, still cinched tight by a bow in the terry cloth belt.
I got up and stood close to her. Mom smiled but didn’t make a move to take my hand like she had before, or to offer her breasts for inspection. I glanced up the stairs. “Your father’s in bed,” Mom said. “Oh,” I responded. Tentatively, I stretched out my hand and tried to pull the lapels of Mom’s robe apart without success. “You have to undo the belt, silly.” “Oh.” I pulled one end of the belt, expecting it to come completely undone but was left in a knot as often happened when I rushed to get my running shoes off. “Damn,” I muttered. Mom giggled. I struggled with the knot while Mom waited. Nervously, I glanced several times up the stairs but Mom didn’t say anything, nor did she look impatient. Finally, I got the bloody thing undone and pulled Mom’s robe apart. Underneath, she wore a long nightgown with a long V open to her waist that was held together by three sets of laces, the uppermost already undone. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to check through the thin material or try to get my hand in through the top. I debated for several seconds while Mom continued to wait patiently, then abruptly tugged the end of the second lacy bow.
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