That's one hot momma! he said going her out. That person describes MILF, claimed another. Sacred fuck, guys, that is my mother! Everybody else viewed one another in different degrees of embarrassment before scuttling away. Strolling as if she were on a model's runway, Mum came around me. My eyes exposed by the inventors, I had to agree using their characterization of her as a MILF. From that afternoon onward, I wanted out possibilities to look at my MILF. It didn't matter if she were in bathing matches or dresses and dresses, I viewed her as a lady and not a mom in the most surreptitious fashion I could. Whenever she was out and I was home alone, I'd also discover my nose in her lingerie drawer. Literally. The perfume she wore honored her clear laundry. Her natural perfume, or musk, honored her used lingerie in the outfits hamper. Mom desired to apologise for her behaviour early in the day and her pursuing my friends away. I apologised to her for disrespecting her ...