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That's one hot momma! he said pointing her out. That woman becomes MILF, said another. Holy fuck, people, that's my mother! Every one viewed each other in varying degrees of embarrassment before scuttling away. Strolling as though she were on a model's runway, Mom got around me. My eyes exposed by the guys, I'd to agree with their portrayal of her as a MILF. From that afternoon onward, I sought out opportunities to check out my MILF. It did not matter if she were in washing suits or dresses and gowns, I viewed her as a female and perhaps not a mother in the most surreptitious fashion I could. Whenever she was out and I was house alone, I'd also find my nose in her lingerie drawer. Literally. The perfume she wore honored her clear laundry. Her natural fragrance, or musk, honored her applied lingerie in the garments hamper. Mom desired to apologise on her behaviour earlier in the day and her chasing my friends away. I apologised to her for disrespecting her by en...