I’ve always been a momma’s boy. My mother usually did the dishes and cooked dinner for us. When I was very young, I got into a routine of clinging to the back of her legs and her waist while she worked in the kitchen. As I grew taller, I started squeezing her midsection from behind as a hug. Our kitchen time became shorter and shorter but more and more intimate. By the time I moved out at 18, my routine was: I would come in from school, make sure no one was around, walk up behind my mom and press her backside to me. I was taller than her at this point, so my cock would rest on the waist of her jeans. I could smell her perfume and her soft skin on mine. We’d never dare dry-hump or grind for fear of acknowledging the line we were so close to crossing, but I think we both enjoyed the routine closeness.