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Maybe it was due to my lack of a bra, maybe it was because Carla hadn't finished me off with the vibrator, maybe it was because of all the girl/girl sex I'd enjoyed in the past few months -- but I distinctly felt my mother's breasts as they pressed against mine, and the warmth and softness of them made me all tingly. I hugged her back, suddenly conscious how good she smelled."So good to see you, hon," Mom said. "Ready for lunch?" That sounds great," I said. "I'm starved." We started walking toward the campus cafe.Given that I'd been looking at girls and women a lot more lately, I couldn't help but notice, as if for the first time, how beautiful my mother still was. She was in her late thirties and worked out daily, and her body showed it. I'd always envied her honey-brown hair, much preferring it to my own darker hue.I caught myself imagining what Mom looked like naked when she glanced at me -- and it was then that she noticed that I'd gone without a bra. For a split second a look of. There in front of my eyes was the tattoo from my dream. My mind swirling it wasn't possible. Couldn't be him. Lifting my head up staring into those piercing green eyes I did not know how to feel. "You recognize me?" "I...how?" That perfect smile came across his face. "You do. Are you ready for me?" Undoing my pants he slips his hand in leaning against me pressing his chest against mine. "Oh you are so wet." His fingers tease me moving my panties aside placing his fingers inside. A moan escapes my mouth. "Sh… you don't want others hearing do you?" Biting his lips he releases my hands, scratching down his chest. I cannot believe this is real. Removing my pants as his hands slide down, removing my underwear, capturing my lips. I look down and his cock already ready, pointing straight up, engorged with blood, and huge. Grabbing my buttocks he lifts me and impales inside me the sensation of thickness and fullness overwhelming. Before a moan could escape my mouth, our tongues.
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Whether she now holds at night the same young man she fell in love with who went to war five years earlier, I do not know. Being still little more than a boy with not a hair on my chest at the time, I saw nothing of his soul pain but only the heroism of deeds boldly done and the glory of war and vanquishing of all of his foes. The next time the recruiting drummers came to our remote highland village, I was one of the first to sign my name and volunteer, nearly two years before my obligatory service time. Yes, I was an idiot." As I was barely sixteen and underage (having lied to become accepted — they didn't take mere boys in those happier days, but sadly nowadays they force them into service even younger) and had none of my manly hair, my request to also join the Marines also was denied. Being undersized and thin (I was still growing like a weed) it was decided that my best use might be as a Scout and thus soon found myself in the care of Old Venial, even then our most senior veteran.

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