Forty-three-year-old Fran Kosiba smoothed her ironed apron as she heard her son come into the kitchen.

“Hellooooo, darling!” she sang out, patting her hairdo and posing by the shiny dishwasher.

The beautiful mother was a dead ringer for June Cleaver on the TV show.

“There’s my big, wonderful son!” Fran squealed, throwing her arms lovingly around the boy.

“Oo! Gawd, Mommy missed you so much!”

Jeffrey hugged his lovely mother close, crushing her tits against his muscular chest.

“Gimme a kiss, Mom,” he panted.

Fran’s mouth opened wide as she French kissed her boy.

Mom and son’s mouths sloshed together lewdly as they sucked and slurped each other’s tongues, tasting each other’s mouths.

Finally, Jeffrey pulled away.

His mother’s face was smeared with lipstick.

“Unbutton your shirt, Mom.”

“What a lovely idea, honey! Mommy loves you, Jeffrey!”

“I love you too, Mom!”

Fran took her shirt off.

“Now the bra.”

“I’ll do anything for my handsome son! Ooooo! I worship the ground you walk on, Jeffrey! If you want to see my breasts, you can!”

Fran undid the bra and tossed it aside. Her eyes glazing over with blind admiration for the perfect specimen that she called Son.

“Squeeze Mommy’s tits, Jeffrey! Oh, please! Please! My flesh is yours to use or abuse, I only ask to kneel at the altar of your Godlike Cock! Yes, my Master! You are my Jesus of Prick! My Madonna’s Playmeat is yours, my Lord, to breed disciples with. Let Mother’s cunt be the conduit through which a shining future of new microwave snack foods emerges, and all green stamps redeemed!!!”

Fran bowed her head.

Sometimes she acted a little strange around her son.