After cleaning up, you go talk to Randall about what just happened.

Jesus Christ. That did not just happen! you thought, sinking your head into your hands, feeling absolutely terrible. That was your mom. Your own mother's body that you had just jerked off over. It was beyond wrong. It was... it was sick! What the hell is wrong with me?

You should have stopped him, instead of just sitting there watching, getting yourself off as you did. What would she say if she could see what you'd done? How you had defiled her body, her image as your mother. Now all you'd ever be able to see is those gigantic breasts every time you looked at him. Her mouth wrapped around each one, like some porno slut, instead of the loving woman who'd raised you and cared for you all your life.

In all those years you'd never once thought of her in a sexual way. Now it was all you could think about. Those two large creamy mounds with their big, stiff brown nipples looking absolutely orgasm inducing. Sure they weren't exactly the perfectly round, fake tits you looked up all the time on the net, and they had a little sag, but that somehow made them all the more appealing. That and their rather immense size. Not to mention, the look on her face - your mother's face - as she enthusiastically sucked them into her mouth, was about 100% times more erotic than any porno movie. Forget Amber Knights sucking off a bunch of guys, or Summer Rain taking a load in the face. Randall, in that body, doing that in front of you, was without a doubt the most arousing thing you think you'd ever seen. Which was exactly why it felt so damn wrong! What kind of sick fucker gets turned on by his own mom's tits? And even worse than that, What kind of sick fucker would just sit there and jerk off?

Letting out a groan in both disgust and frustration over how you were now feeling, you jumped off your chair and nosedived onto your bed, burying your face into the pillow in an attempt to block out it all out. Not only was the thought of what you'd done making you feel more ashamed than you could possibly imagine, but you also began to question how exactly you were going to face Randall again. How would you ever be able to look at him the same way as you had done... as you had been slowly learning to do this last month or so? Everything was once again fucked!

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why the hell did he have to do that? Why couldn't he have just turned and walked away? Presumably he thought he was somehow helping you, doing what one friend who'd suddenly turned into a chick might actually do for another. And in a way you supposed it had worked in that respect. The only problem was that he was in your mom's body. So why the hell didn't he think about that?Why did he think it would be okay to suddenly flash you like that? Didn't he realize it would totally mess you up, or did he just not care?

All these questions you had and more, and you realized that none of them were going to get answered lying here. As horrible a prospect as it was, you couldn't just let this fester away. You had to go out there and confront him. You had to.

Pulling yourself reluctantly up off the bed then, you took a few moments to clean both yourself and the carpet up as best you could, before heading out into the hall, hearing the sound of the television below and figuring Randall had gone back downstairs.

Alright. Come on, Tim. You can do this. you told yourself, taking a long deep breath as you waited at the top of the stairs, prolonging this moment as much as possible before finally going down.

You found him as predicted, sitting on the couch in the living room, staring disinterestedly at the movie that had previously been unable to keep his attention. It was however an entirely difference experience than it ever had been before, looking at him now, your eyes being pulled almost magnetically towards those two large masses taking up most of his torso, pushing out rather dramatically from your mother's white blouse.

"Hey," you mumbled, pulling your eyes away and making your presence known, causing Randall to turn and look at you as you shuffled nervously through the door.

Sounding a lot less confident now than he had done in your room, Randall replied, "Oh. Hey, dude... What's uh, what's up?" obviously having a few conflicting feelings of his own now that he'd had a chance to reflect upon it.

"I, uh... I think we should probably talk."

"Yeah." he said, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and turning off the TV. "It;s about what happened right?"

"Yeah." you nodded, once again trying to ignore the lure of his chest.

Blushing ever so slightly red (something that you hadn't seen on your mom's face for quite a while), Randall cleared his throat and began. "Listen, I realize it was probably kind of weird for you. What with me being your mom and all. I just... I dunno, I saw you suffering and I guess I just wanted to try and help." He sounded sincere, and you were well aware there was no malice behind his actions. He'd been calling your mom a babe for years after all.

"I know, and I'm grateful for that," you told him, trying to keep it together, "It's just... well it was beyond weird. It was like really, really weird. That totally shouldn't have happened, dude. She's my mom. I can't see my mom like that!" Even as you were saying this though, that was exactly what you were seeing - finding it almost impossible to look at him without picturing what lay beneath that blouse.

Well aware of this fact, Randall could only apologize. "I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't thinking. I got so caught up on how fucking awesome these things are..." he told you, grabbing at your mother's melons as if on instinct (this move causing your dick to twitch), "...and how much of a MILF your mom is, I kind of forgot about all that stuff. I'm really, really sorry, dude. I didn't mean to ruin things between us."

"You... you didn't." you replied, quickly averting your eyes as you felt yourself blush. "And it wasn't entirely your fault. I shouldn't have... you know (referring of course to your masturbating, now wanting to come out and just say it). I just think that from now on, nothing like that can happen again, you know? We're best friends and I know you were just trying to help. But you're also like my mom now. So how about we just agree to pretend like none of that even happened and just move on? Start a fresh." This you assumed was the only real way out of this situation. There really being no other option. You were not only living in the same house, but as far as the outside world was concerned you were also mother and son. It's not like either of you could go your separate ways - what with you technically still being a minor (not that you wanted that of course).

Randall agreed almost immediately, "Sure. No, totally, dude." much to your relief.

"Cool."

"But we're still good, yeah?" he asked, looking slightly nervous.

"Yeah. We're... we're good." you replied, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

The truth was though, that merely standing in the same room as him felt incredibly awkward now. There being just too much temptation to check out your mother's chest - something which you had never felt the urge to do before. That toppled with the guilt you felt every time you looked at his beautiful green eyes, well it was just too much. You had to leave.

"Anyway. I think I'm gonna go hit the hay. Get some rest for school tomorrow."

"Oh... Oh, okay. Sure. No worries." Randall said, sounding a little disappointed, but at the same time clearly sensing your discomfort. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that you were gone, breathing a sigh of relief as you quickly exited the living room, telling yourself as you did, It'll be fine. By tomorrow everything will be fine. You were just getting too hung up on her breasts, that was all. They were the first pair you'd ever actually see live and in the flesh. And so what if they were huge? - making Allison Lowry look like less than surfboard. They could have been anyone else's and you'd still feel just as aroused. From your busty history teacher, Miss. Card, to the crotchety old lady who lived down the street. Tits were tits, and guys were designed to get aroused by them. Even if they belonged to your mom. I mean, it's... it's not like I'm actually attracted to her or anything...