As the title suggests, this is a fictional story about the relationship I had with my friend’s mom.
Living on the same quiet street in a middle-class suburban neighborhood, we all knew each other and from the time I started liking girls, Mrs. Anderson easily became the only one I thought about.
She was a very nice person and always drove us places: the mall, the movies, and the arcade. We were just boys and just wanted to have fun but I always remember having a funny feeling whenever I looked at her boobs. They were gigantic.
You would need to see a picture to adequately understand the absolute girth of Mrs. Anderson’s chest in proportion to the rest of her body. It was like a giant, dangling cliff overhanging her slim belly. In an unreal sort-of-way, it didn’t all add up – many people thought she had implants but the natural shape and shimmy of them proved otherwise.
At one point in time, Mrs. Anderson was a model: slim and busty, she won pageant after pageant and then Mr. Anderson swept her off her feet and married her. Her chest wasn't nearly as big though…until they decided to have a family. Mrs. Anderson had one boy (my friend) and two daughters and a shit-ton of milk.