The mall was her runway. My mom, Lisa, swayed ahead of me, her colossal peach straining against her tight jeans with every step. That ass was a masterpiece—two perfect, jiggling globes I’d been sneaking glances at for years. Today, she was on a mission for new clothes and lingerie, and she’d dragged me along as her "pack mule."

I trailed behind, my eyes glued to the hypnotic bounce. She knew it. A sly smirk played on her lips as she glanced over her shoulder, catching me red-handed. "See something you like, baby?" she purred, her voice dripping with knowing heat.

In the boutique, she piled my arms with lace and silk. The dressing room was a cramped, mirrored cube. "Come in, honey," she called, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I need your... opinion."

I stepped inside, the air thick with her perfume and tension. She let the curtain fall shut. "Turn around," she ordered softly. I did, facing the mirror, watching her reflection. She peeled off her top, her full tits springing free. Then, with agonizing slowness, she shimmied out of her jeans. Her ass was finally bare, monumental and round, the deep cleft driving me wild.

Her hands slid over her own curves. "You’ve been staring at this all day," she murmured, spreading her cheeks slightly in the mirror, giving me a flash of her pink, glistening pussy lips. "Want a better look?"

A groan escaped me. My cock was a steel rod in my pants. She turned, pressing her magnificent ass against my