Mi mamá hace pasar por psicóloga a su amiga 3

As I enter the same room, I remember my mother had a tobacco smell and perfume that still makes me hard to this day; as if it were a curse to my sense of smell, because that smell remains in my virgin mind when my penis was painting its honey and moisture. She enters, and I realize that when she sits beside me, her skirt rises and shows an intimate fabric, but minimal from her intimacy, as if she wanted everyone to notice that she wears underwear. She: again, damn it, you took away my work for this? Me: excuse me, mom. Really, I wanted to explain. I don't take long to call out and tell myself that whatever it was, didn't matter; she had the fault (inverse psychology) Really, I didn't say anything, not because I desired it, but because I was embroiled with her attire and perfume. We pass briefly to the director's office, and first thing he does is play with what's battered and neglected in my hands, my mother launches into valid arguments to defend me. She: do you know what my son does to come study at this school? Really, do you know how much effort we both put in so that his brothers and he can attend classes every day? Director: that's not my problem; he physically assaulted a student. She: and why did he do it? Director: words of the young. She: I see that you don't have the courage and therefore don't deserve my attention. Give me the punishment for my son, and we'll leave; it's not worth wasting my time with a man lacking authority like you. Director: fine, ma'am, if you want. She: no, I don't want to, but he lacks the courage to specify that this school treats a lady based on her attire, declaring her slut because they think she looks like a young woman who might be. Neither does she have consent for her face being on the internet and how she thought it was. Director: that's not true. She: please give me the punishment I don't want to waste my strength anymore. In the hallway, my mother asks me to really ask me something with tears in her eyes. She: do you see me as a slut? Me: never. mother, I would never do it and if you were, it wouldn't be a problem for me that you find your sexual satisfaction and happiness even if the person who gives it to you is calling you that way. My crying and broken mother hugs and kisses me a little on the mouth. She says: I love you, darling, really I love you very much and I don't know what would be without you. I also love you, mom, and although this isn't justified, I'd defend you to the minimum if you are or aren't, I think it's not my concern nor does it touch me to judge you. In my mind was the idea that while I hugged her, I felt the lace underwear she wore underneath. We left school as if nothing had happened, it was still very early and my brothers would leave until 4 pm, she smiling and kissing me asks: we have time, what do you want to do? For something naughty, it's because my mom wanted to buy new clothes, only I didn't know which store. Mom, yesterday I couldn't help but listen to your friend talking about buying new clothes. She says: it's fine, my love. Come with me; please be very polite and don't make a mess, I know you're still young, but I don't know what ideas you have of feminine sexuality. I was intrigued by what she referred to, a 12-year-old boy with more doubts than he had, we enter the store, only that it had a huge V with black butterflies and pink flowers, a Mexican rose. We enter and at first I didn't see blouses or camisoles, but they were very transparent, even shirts. My mom was holding my hand when a woman at a nearby aisle holds up a piece of fabric held by threads. I stood there with my mouth open as if I still didn't understand where we were, closed my mouth and realized I had arrived at the paradise of feminine lingerie. There were so many, in colors, shapes, and embroidery, most of which I imagined on my mom, already my erect penis was throbbing and my mom took it. She says: take my purse and please don't go looking for trouble, a playful laugh. I didn't know what she meant... She started taking... While doing it, he would say the name; this thong, this son, will I see him divine?, arrived at listening to the most vulgar thing like; this will split my lips and not let me get wet all day. Things like that and more dirty ones made my pantaloon form a liquid pre-seminal stain.

Since my mother chose everything she liked and put it in my arms, until she reached a hallway of bodies, took a black one that would only cover her nipples, since the crotch was transparent, also chose a white with a garter belt and measuring whites, something that ended up evidencing my erection.

She: come here, heart, get into the dressing room. It's quite large, in the stores where I buy my clothes, it's not as wide as the dressing rooms. Me: mother, forgive me, it's just that you're very beautiful. She:-(shhhhhh, shhhhs, shhhh) She interrupted. Don't say anything dear, I understand your posture, only I don't understand why you like the thong more than who wears it.