When I got home late saturday night, Mom was sitting at the kitchen table.
"Geez, Mom I'm 22 years old now, you know you don't have to wait up for me."
"I know," she said. "I went to bed, but I had trouble sleeping. I couldn't relax for some reason."
Judging from the half empty bottle of scotch in front of her, she was probably good and relaxed now. Mom was 41 years old but still quite attractive. She had put on a few pounds but not much. Her ass was a little bit bigger than it used to be, but then again so were her tits. I would often catch my friends checking her out when they thought I wasn't looking.