Just Mom and I now. She seemed really into it yesterday, but I imagine I can’t just grab her, throw her down, and pound her till I cum. Even if she is that horny now, I should still try to romance her a bit.
Having driven further away from the beach themed shops and restaurants, Simon looked around at the more normal, every-day, local shops along the streets.
I should get her something that says I love her. Or at the very least, ‘thanks for a great weekend’.
Simon looked over to the right side of the street and saw a store known for selling intimate apparel.
Some lingerie? Yeah right. What do I say when they ask me who it’s for? “Just wanted to get something sexy for my mother.” Besides that, I have no idea what size she is, and ‘natural and huge’ doesn’t translate to a cup size easily.
Simon continued to drive as he thought more about getting his mother a nice gift. He thought of picking up chocolate with each grocery store he passed. Chocolate would be easy, but it’s not very personal.
Then, he passed a florist shop that had placed ostentatious flags out front to advertise their new and fresh stock.
That’s it! I could get her some flowers. Seems weird though, getting her a bouquet to thank her for sex. Simon then began laughing hard to himself. I’ve already fucked her, so I guess it’s too late to worry about being weird. And I should absolutely thank her for the mind-blowing sex.
Simon precariously cut across several lanes of traffic and quickly pulled into the parking lot of the florist shop. He exited his car and briskly walked into the store. The ding from the door opening alerted the clerk–who was boxing carnations behind the main counter–to Simon’s arrival. He was a pristine, well-manicured young man no more than thirty. His skin was flawless; his clothes, including his apron, were neatly pressed and devoid of any wrinkles or folds. When he saw Simon, he perked up and greeted him with a rather excitable and flamboyant reaction.
“Good afternoon!” The florist practically sang the word ‘afternoon’. “Welcome, what can we get for you today?”
“H…hello.” Simon replied. “I, uh…was hoping to get some flowers.”
“Well you’ve come to the right place. If you were looking for power tools I would have disappointed you.” The florist laughed to himself and quickly walked around the counter to accompany Simon in the showroom. “Now,” he placed his hand on Simon’s shoulder and held it there, “‘some flowers’ is pretty vague, so is there anything in particular you were looking for?” He watched Simon look around the store and survey the plethora of buckets, pots, holders, wraps, collections, and even single flowers displayed in narrow glass vases. “Is this for a lucky partner? A new romance? Or a lady friend?”
Simon turned back to the gentleman, “oh, a lady friend. Definitely.”
The florist grimaced, but it went unnoticed by Simon. “Now, is she just a friend, or someone really special?”
“She’s the most…amazing woman. Absolutely incredible. And so it should be something beautiful.” Simon explained.
“Are you hoping to get romantic?” The florist said as he winked at Simon.
“Haha, oh yes.” Simon laughed nervously. “‘Hoping’ being the operative word.”
“Mmm. I’m sure a…handsome…dish such as yourself won’t have any trouble.” The florist spun Simon around and walked him over to a very large display. “You strike me as a classic man with a more…classic view of romance.”
If he only knew, Simon thought.
“You can’t go wrong with roses. Here, we have roses of nearly every species of every color.” The florist gestured greatly with his hands at the selection. “Does your ‘amazing woman’ have a favorite color?”
Sonovabitch! I don’t even know my own mother’s favorite color. “I think she likes red roses.”
“Red.” The florist cocked his head. “So, like a French rose? An Imperial? A Bergman?” Simon’s eyes darted back and forth nervously. He was quickly becoming overwhelmed, and couldn’t for the life of him see a difference between any of the flowers in front of him. “Haha!” The florist burst out. “I’m sorry, I’ve teased you enough.” He then delicately picked up a very large red flower and held it close to Simon. “The ‘Lincoln’ is probably the sexiest red rose, so why don’t I set you up with those.”
“Yeah. That looks great. Thanks” Simon responded feeling relieved.
“So, how many were you thinking?”
“Two dozen…no! Three dozen.” Simon corrected himself.
“Three dozen.” The florist shot Simon a huge smile. “Someone’s going to seal the deal, I like it.” The florist then grabbed a plastic bag that was shaped like a cone and began selecting roses with a very critical eye. “I’ll tell you what, that third dozen is on me.”
“Oh, no. Thank you, but that’s not necessary.” Simon pleaded.
“I insist, but one small favor.” He smirked as he continued to assemble the bouquet. “Tell your friends and family.”
“Absolutely. You got it!” Simon assured him enthusiastically.
After completing the selection of 36 beautiful red roses, the florist charged Simon for only two dozen and handed a rather large and heavy bouquet.
The florist, disappointingly, watched Simon leave his shop and get into his car. “Sigh. I just gave away a dozen expensive roses. I should have asked him to split me open behind the counter.”
***
Simon had driven home faster than he had ever before, and it was mere luck that he did not incur the attention of any authorities along the way. With his aunt no longer at the house, Simon sped into the driveway and nearly slammed into the garage door, due to excitement, before stopping just in time.
“Hello!” Simon announced himself as he entered the house. The house was quiet and appeared empty, but soon he heard the sound of dainty footsteps coming from the kitchen, followed by his mother who rounded the corner and greeted him in the foyer.
“Hello sweetie!” Candice greeted her son excitedly. “GASP! Those are beautiful! Sweetie, are those for me?”
Simon held up the very heavy bouquet and smiled. “Of course.” As he stepped further into the entryway to close the front door, he surveyed his mother’s beautiful figure. She was completely barefoot, and her legs glistened from having been recently shaved and lotioned. As his gaze traveled up her body, he discovered that his mother stuffed herself into a pair of the tiniest white denim shorts imaginable; they left nothing to the imagination as they contoured to her perfect womanly mound and left her ass completely exposed. She had left the zipper undone which ended just above the hood of her tiny clit that Simon so desperately wanted to see. It was a simple, yet effective tease. Her outfit was completed with a light blue tee-shirt made of very thin fabric that clung and outlined every detail of her large full breasts.
“What’s the occasion?” Candice asked as she collected a few roses between her fingers and pulled them down to smell their fragrance.
“I…uh…just wanted to say, I love you mom. And uh…thanks for a great weekend.” Simon smiled, but the act of thanking his own mother for sex was a concept he stumbled over.