Breakfast with Mom.

“Thanks Mom you’re cooking is the best.” Tim said sitting next to his mother taking in her appearance.

Barbara was not his biological mother but she was the only one he had ever really know let alone remember. She stands at 5’11 with legs that went on for miles, slightly pale white skin, a curvaceous body filled in all the right places, Doubles D’s that were as perky as the day she grew them, and fiery red hair that framed her face contrasting with her ocean blue eyes. Despite being in her mid-thirties she looked as if she still in her early-twenties. Tim found himself looking at her slightly exposed cleavage sticking out of her purple robe that was a size too small. As Tim stared he began to feel guilty and embarrassed for looking at her the way he did. Slowly Tim started eat in order to occupy himself. “How’s the French Toast?” Barbara asked her boy with a small smile. “It’s amazing as always then again so is anything you cook.” Tim said with a slight hue of blush forming at his cheeks. “Flatterer, do you have any special plans for today?” Barbara asked with interest in his in answer. “ Not really just school maybe swing by the new comic store after. Why?” Tim answered and posed his own question.