H Tales Of A Reincarnated Elf

by Stayrr

I was a good looking prince when I was reborn, and because I could do indecent things as much as I like, I decided to make a harem while traveling with a beautiful female elf Formerly an otaku, the hero who was just reincarnated became a handsome elf prince of another world. In his previous life he was just a plain-faced man, so in this world he uses his high position as a prin

55. Different Sex Story (187-198)

(128k)

My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 08 - Different Sex Story - Chapter 198 by CopyKatto full book limited free

187 Michael's Mom Has Got It Going On

SimonDoom

"Michael, would you come here for a minute?"

Susanna called to her son from her home office. Michael did not respond at once. He sat slouched on the sofa, on the other side of the house, playing Fortnite on the big-screen TV in the living room. It was late Sunday morning, and Michael didn't have to go to work.

"What is it, mom?" he shouted back, not moving a muscle to get up. He was in the middle of a game, and it was going well. He was keeping up, more or less, with his teammate and recent tournament champion Buttstomper467.

"Can you just come here? It's important," she called.

"Shit," he said out loud. At that moment his character was killed by an assault rifle burst from an unseen enemy. He tossed the game controller on the sofa and stood up. His mom seemed determined to see him, and Fortnite could wait.

Susanna sat at the computer in her office. As usual, the room was cluttered with her paintings and drawings. She swiveled around in her chair as Michael entered the room. She wore a threadbare, tie-dyed shirt, and it was obvious to Michael from the movement under it that she wasn't wearing a bra. For the hundredth time, Michael wished his mom wouldn't dress that way, because it agitated him to stare at her breasts swinging unfettered under the flimsy t-shirt. But Michael knew that going braless fit with his mother's newly adopted carefree, Bohemian image of herself, and he knew she wasn't going to stop. He glanced away from his mom to the computer screen. Susanna didn't appear to notice his agitation.

"I'd like you to see this," she said, pointing at the screen.

Michael stepped closer to see what she was looking at. A masthead with the words "Human Synergy Institute" stretched across the top of the screen. Underneath the heading were pictures of people with hands pressed together and eyes closed, expressions of bliss on their faces. They looked like they were meditating, or maybe achieving orgasm. It was hard to tell. The site looked vaguely Eastern and New Age-ish. Michael wondered what new thing mom was up to.

His eyes wandered to the mess on his mother's desk. His mother was careful about some things, but she was hopeless when dealing with paperwork. A phone bill was spread out next to the computer monitor, with a big number following the boldface words "Late Fee."

That would have to wait. He turned his attention back to the computer screen.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Remember I asked you not to make plans for next weekend?"

"Yeah, I remember. You said you wanted us to spend some 'quality time' together."

"That's right. This is what I want us to do. The Human Synergy Institute. A friend from my painting class told me about it. They put on workshops at a hot springs resort in the hills about two hours away. The workshops help people work out obstacles in their relationships. I want to attend a workshop there with you. We have some issues to work out, and this would be a nice way to do it. My friend said good things about them."

Michael looked at the computer screen, skeptical. This was his mom's kind of thing, but not his. Susanna had a Ph.D. in psychology and had spent most of her career as a clinical psychologist with a successful private practice. Seven years earlier, she'd given all that up to try becoming a full-time painter and poet. She'd had mixed success at her art ever since. But his mom never had shed her habit of thinking like a psychologist or of believing that there was no such thing as too much therapy or too much communication. Over the years Michael had attended several joint sessions with his mom with therapists to discuss his parents' divorce and his feelings about it. He wasn't eager to do more.

"Mom, I don't feel like we really have more issues to discuss. I'm fine with things. We get along well. We're good."

"Getting along doesn't mean there aren't things to work out. I've sensed some distance between us lately. I wonder if you are still angry. But, regardless, this is a great opportunity. Whatever you think about the relationship, it will be good time together for us. And it's not just workshops. The resort has some great pools and the scenery is beautiful. We can go hiking. I know you enjoy that."

Susanna was right about that. Michael always liked getting out in nature, and hiking in the hills was one of his favorite things to do. It was a great time of year for it, too: the summer was in its early days, with the trees full and green with foliage, scattered remnants of spring flowers still abloom in newly sunbaked fields. Michael wasn't so sure about the therapy, but the hiking sounded fun. It would only be one weekend. And he could tell his mom really wanted to do it.

"O.K., mom," he said. "Sure. I'm up for it."

Susanna jumped up and down twice. Her unclad breasts shook under the t-shirt. Michael looked away.

"Yay!" she said. "We'll have fun, Michael. And it will be good for us."

Michael doubted that, but he didn't want to argue with his mom. He already had told her he'd leave the weekend free to spend time with her. He intended to honor his promise, whatever she had in mind.

Michael didn't think there were any issues to work out with mom, though he knew that in the past, that hadn't been true. Seven years earlier, when Michael was thirteen, his mom suddenly quit her job as a psychologist. She had a mid-life crisis. Michael never knew what it was all about. He was just entering his teen years and still trying to navigate his way through the trials of adolescence without having to figure out his parents' problems.

Unfortunately, he couldn't extricate his life from his parents' marital crises. Not long after his mom left her job and started taking painting lessons, she had an affair with an art teacher. Michael's dad found out, and their marriage blew up. Later, he found out his dad had been having an affair with a secretary. So, neither parent was fully innocent and neither one was fully guilty in Michael's eyes. They got divorced. It sucked for Michael, at first. But as time passed, he realized his mom and dad never had been right for each other. They were happier in divorce. His dad married his secretary. His mom pursued her art and poetry. They grew as people. They remained as loving to Michael as ever. But there were scars, and they didn't heal right away.

That was a long time ago, however, and Michael thought he'd moved past it. He was a junior in college now, studying economics. College was several hours away, but he was living at home for the summer, alternating between his parents' houses while he worked as an assistant at a local real estate development company.

Two days after Susanna told Michael about her plans for the weekend, he was hanging out in the kitchen with his friend Connor. He'd just gotten home from work. He told Connor about his mom's plans for the coming weekend.

"So, you're going to this hot spring place with your mom, huh?" Connor asked. "Are you going to be naked?"

"No!" Michael said, offended. "We're not going to be naked. It's not like that. It's some kind of therapy workshop, where people work on relationships."

"If you say so," Connor said. "I thought those hot spring places were clothing optional. Whatever. Not that there's anything wrong spending the weekend naked with your mom."

"Connor!" said Michael, almost shouting.

"Hey, sorry," said Connor. "It's just . . . you know. It's your mom. You know what I mean."

Michael stared at his friend, not blinking.

"No. I don't know what you mean."

Susanna suddenly appeared in the kitchen. She wore a tight t-shirt and cutoff shorts.

"Hey Connor, it's nice to see you," she said. She opened the refrigerator, bent over, and pulled out a cup of non-fat yogurt.

"Nice to see you, too, Mrs. P," Connor said. Michael still stared at Connor, who stared at Susanna.

"What are you guys doing?" Susanna asked, turning around from the refrigerator with the yogurt in her hand. The t-shirt stretched tightly against her breasts.

"Not much," Michael said. "Just hanging out."

"Well, have fun," she said, and she walked away. Her shorts were short - short enough to reveal a thin strip of the skin of her butt cheeks over her lean thighs.

"Michael," Connor said, his gaze lingering after she disappeared behind the corner. "Your mom has got it going on."

"Connor, come on, that's my mom," Michael said, annoyed.

"No offense, sorry," Connor said, throwing his hands up. He changed the subject and started talking about a Fortnite tournament coming up in two weeks. He was excited about it, and two days earlier Michael had been excited about it as well, but right now he couldn't focus on it, instead mulling over what Connor had said about his mom.

"Connor, what did you mean?" Michael asked, interrupting his friend.

"Mean about what?"

"About my mom. When you said she's got it going on. What do you mean by that?"

Connor was flummoxed by the question. He couldn't say anything right away.

"Well, it's just . . . it's just that . . . she's just, you know."

"No, I don't know."

An uncomfortable pause punctuated their conversation.

"O.K., it's like this," Connor said. "Your mom's like, really smart and really educated, and she's got this intellectual way of talking about everything. Like she's got a psychological explanation for everything. You know what I mean?"

Michael did.

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with -"

"Because," Connor continued, "you can tell that's not all that's going on with her." He paused. "Don't be mad at me for saying this, O.K.?"

"Fine, fine. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying underneath all the intellectual talk and all the psychobabble stuff, your mom is . . .. She's hot. She's . . . sexy. No, not sexy . . . sexual. And she knows it. You can tell. She wants to be looked at that way. She gets off on it. I'm not trying to offend. But you can tell. Just saying how it is."

Michael had no idea what Connor was saying. He had never thought of his mom this way at all, and he had never noticed what Connor said he'd noticed. But he couldn't argue with Connor's characterization of what she'd looked like a minute earlier. The outfit she'd worn had been skimpy, and Michael had to admit to himself that her exposed legs looked good. He kept thinking about them, even while he wrestled to make sense of Connor's words.

"This is a weird conversation, Connor," Michael said.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to offend you. I'm just . . . I'm just saying how it is."

Michael wasn't convinced, but he let it go. Connor stood and looked at Michael awkwardly, until he told him it was time for to go home. After Connor left, Michael stood in the kitchen for a while thinking about what his friend had said and wondering if it was true.

xxx

The week went by fast. Work kept Michael busy and distracted him from thinking about the upcoming weekend with his mother. But Friday came, at last, and when it did, Michael took the afternoon off at Susanna's request, so they could drive to the hot springs resort and get there before evening.

The forecast was for warm weather, so Michael packed his bag with a few t-shirts, jeans, shorts, and other appropriate items. He tossed in a pair of sport sandals. Michael realized he had no idea what to expect from the place they were headed. He hadn't thought about it much that week. His only experience going to a hot spring was a short vacation his parents and he had taken to a resort in the mountains when he was 12. It was billed as a "family-friendly" place. Michael recalled that there was nobody his age to play with, and the place was full of little kids screaming and running around the whole time. It wasn't his idea of fun. He hoped the place mom was taking him was better. From what she'd said it sounded like they'd be cooped up for much of the time in a family therapy workshop, and that didn't sound like much fun, either. But mom really wanted to do it, and they hadn't been away together on a vacation for a while. The hiking sounded promising. And if there was a pool there might be cute girl or two in a bikini for Michael to ogle.

At last, Michael and Susanna piled into her car, an old Volvo that needed a new paint job, and they took off. Michael glanced at his mother sitting in the driver's seat as they drove down the street. She wore a loose-fitting long dress with flowers on it, and her frizzy blond hair drooped in a long pony-tail down her back. In the years since Susanna had left her counseling practice and become an artist, she'd taken on a more carefree, artsy look. Her inner hippie had emerged. Michael wasn't much of a hippie, and he sometimes looked askance at her transformation. He was still getting used to Susanna's new style. He guessed it fit with her self-image as an artist.

"So, mom, what do you know about the place?"

"Not much, Michael. They sent me some information online when I made the reservation, but I've been so busy with my paintings this week I haven't read it. I heard they have a nice yoga class. And you can get a great massage, so I thought we might try that out."

"So, it's not like that place we went to before? With all the screaming kids?"

"Oh no. This is adults only. No kids."

Thank goodness for that, Michael thought. It would be quieter, at least.

The sun was high in a bright blue and cloudless sky. It was warm - high 80s, at least. After an hour's drive Susanna exited the highway and turned on to a two-lane road that wound its way deeper into the tan hills. Olive-green stands of trees dotted the landscape. Michael noticed hawks soaring overhead. It was a pretty drive. Michael thought that if their destination was anything like their current surroundings, it would be a serene setting and a good place to relax. Mom and Michael sat in their seats quietly for a while when she broke the silence.

"There is something else you should know about it, if you don't know this already."

"What?" Michael asked.

"Some of the facilities at this hot spring are clothing-optional. The hot spring pools, I'm pretty sure, and I think the sauna, too. I'm not sure about the rest."

Michael was taken aback.

"Wait - clothing optional - you mean, like, nude? Like, people are hanging out nude at this place?"

"At parts of it, yes, but not all. And it's clothing optional, meaning you can go nude, but you don't have to."

Michael didn't find that reassuring, at all. His mind reeled at the idea that his mom was taking him to spend a weekend at a nudist resort.

"Why are we going someplace with nude people? I thought this was supposed to be about counseling with you and me, with some hiking and relaxation by the pool." Michael tried to keep cool, but his voice cracked with dismay and surprise.

"Well, it IS about that," Susanna said. "But the hot spring we're going to allows guests to take their clothes off. Nudity is not a big deal, Michael. When you take your clothes off you strip away the pretense and the armor you wear every day. It helps you focus on the issues you want to confront most. It helps you avoid distractions. That's what we're trying to do."

Michael thought about what she was saying. It sounded like psychobabble to him.

"Wait a minute," he said. "Are you saying you're going to go nude at this resort? You? With me? Mom, don't you think that's kind of . . . weird?"

"No, I don't, Michael," she said, and the scolding mother tone came through in her voice. "It's not weird. And, yes, I expect I'll spend some time there nude. You probably should, too."

"Crap, mom! Why should I get nude? I haven't done anything like this, before."

"Neither have I. Oh, your dad and I went to a nude beach once and I took off my top, but I haven't done anything like this. I think it will help break down barriers."

Michael wasn't sure what barriers he needed or wanted to break down. And if he did have any, he didn't think he had to take all his clothes off and parade his private parts in front of a bunch of nude hippies to break them down. He could not believe his mom wanted to do this, and that she hadn't told him about it until they were near their destination.

"You don't have to do anything, Michael," she said. "Like I said, it's clothing optional. That means you have the option to wear clothes."

She paused for a few minutes before speaking again.

"Michael, the point of this weekend is for us to be candid and honest with each other. The nudity is just part of stripping away the barriers to being honest. I want us to be honest with each other. Just think of it that way. But you don't have to be naked if you don't want to be. It's optional. The point is being honest, not being naked."

That provided some comfort, but it still left Michael facing the likelihood that, very soon, he would see his mother naked. He realized he never had. One time, he saw her walking topless in her bedroom when he walked in on her unannounced, but he'd never seen her without a bottom. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Michael thought his mother was pretty, no doubt about it. She was in her 40s, and her recently adopted style was more hippie-ish than he preferred, but she had a trim figure and full breasts and womanly hips. And he'd seen enough of her legs in shorts around the house to know they were still lean and youthful, with clear, unwrinkled skin. He admitted to himself he felt a tinge of excitement at the idea of seeing his mom lying naked out by a pool at the place we were going. But he felt uncomfortable about it, too. And he felt even more uncomfortable about the thought of the two of them lying around a pool naked together, with other naked people lying around them.

Michael's thoughts stewed with such images when he saw the sign ahead of them: "Anders Hot Springs."

They passed a curve in the road and reached their destination. He heard the crunch of gravel as the car left the road and entered a parking lot. Ahead of them, framed by dense shrubs on either side, was a large two-story Victorian-style house, with a wide porch and many windows. It was different from what he expected. Michael expected something that looked more run down, like it was operated by broke, aging hippies. But it wasn't like that at all. The grounds were well-manicured, and the paint job on the house looked new. Susanna parked in a space near the door and they got out.

They entered the main door with their bags and walked to the front desk, where a cheerful, youthful Asian woman with wedge-cut hair greeted them with a huge, white smile.

"Welcome to Anders Hot Springs! I'm Mimi. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes," Susanna answered. "Susanna Penley and guest."

Susanna and Mimi processed the transaction for the room. Mimi then presented a form with tiny print with two blank signature lines at the bottom.

"This is for participation in the Human Synergy Institute program session this weekend," she said.

Michael thought the name "Human Synergy Institute" sounded odd. It sounded flaky. But this was his mom's show. Michael and Susanna scribbled their names on the paper without looking at it. Mimi handed each of them a key.

A door in the back of the room opened and a beautiful, slim blonde in tight-white shorts emerged from it.

"Varda will show you to your room," Mimi said, gesturing to the blonde.

"Follow me," Varda said.

Michael and Susanna followed her through the door to a small room behind the waiting room. Through yet another door she took them into a locker room, with many nicely varnished wooden lockers lining the walls and a few benches sprawled around.

"Is this your first time to Anders?"

"Yes," said Susanna.

"Let me go over the rules of the place. First, we don't allow any electronic devices like telephones, cameras, computers, or anything else on the grounds. We are off the grid and non-digital. We want our guests to be fully immersed in their surroundings during their stay, without distractions. So if you have such devices you have to put them in a locker." She pointed to two that were empty.

Michael hadn't expected to give up his cell phone and charger. He figured it would be a lifesaver if the events at the resort became too boring. But Varda's look made it clear the rule was firm. Michael pulled his phone out of his pocket. Varda continued talking.

"This also is where you should store all your clothes for the weekend," she said.

"Why would we keep our clothes here rather than in the room?" Susanna asked.

"Because you won't be needing them."

"What?" Susanna asked. "What do you mean we won't need them?"

Varda looked at Susanna's face, and then at Michael's. Michael looked at Susanna. Both looked bewildered, and Varda's face, at first showing as much puzzlement as ours, suddenly brightened.

"Oh, I guess you didn't know. I'm sorry. This weekend is exclusively for participants in the HSI program, and a requirement of this weekend's program is that all participants must spend the entire weekend in the nude. No exceptions. Didn't you read the form you signed?"

Michael and Susanna both shook their heads.

"I'm sorry if you are confused. But if you want to stay here this weekend and participate in the program, you'll have to take your clothes off now before entering the rest of grounds."

Neither Michael nor his mother said anything for a beat. They stared at Varda, mouths open, and they glanced at each other.

"Uh, what if we get cold?" Michael asked.

"That shouldn't be a problem this weekend. The days are forecast to be hot, and even the evenings should remain warm. Your rooms are well-heated, and so are all the common areas in the buildings. And the hot springs are hot, of course!" She smiled. "I'll leave and wait outside and give you some time. If you decide you want to continue, just leave your electronic devices and all clothing in the locker and take the key with you. You can bring sandals or other footwear, and hats, so you can explore the grounds comfortably. And you can bring toiletries, but nothing electric. We have extra sunscreen in the rooms for protection. If you decide you don't want to, just let me know and you can go, and we'll refund your money."

Varda left, leaving Michael and Susanna alone in the locker room.

"Mom, how could you not know about this?" Michael asked.

"Michael, I had no idea. I swear. I didn't read all the fine print in the materials they sent me. I thought nudity was optional, not mandatory.

"But what's the big deal?" she continued. "I was planning to take my clothes off anyway, at the pool and the springs. Everyone else will be nude. You would have been uncomfortable staying clothed. Let's just bite the bullet and do this."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. You'll get used to it right away."

Michael doubted that. He could see getting used to being around naked people, but he had a hard time imagining spending two days completely naked with his mom.

"I don't get this, mom. Why do they want people to get naked for a family communication workshop? What's the point? It sounds weird."

"Well, I didn't read the fine print," she said. "So, I don't know for certain. But I've heard of therapeutic approaches like this one. Shedding your clothing is symbolic of shedding your inhibitions and breaking down the barriers that prevent people from communicating. It's a confidence builder, too. If you can shed one barrier, you can shed another."

It sounded like more psychobabble to Michael. But psychology was mom's field, not his. She was the expert. She might have been right. But none of that changed the weirdness of the idea of being naked around his mom for two days without interruption.

"So, what do you think, Michael? Say 'yes.' We've come all this way. It will be a beautiful weekend. The hills around here are lovely, and we can take a nice hike. And I really want you to do this program with me."

Michael wrestled with the idea, inside. Part of him - most of him - still thought it sounded crazy. But he had to agree it was a nice place, nicer than he expected, and the surrounding area looked great for hiking, even if the idea of hiking in the nude seemed weird, too. And, he had to admit, the idea of seeing his mom naked, even if was strange, piqued his curiosity. She was very attractive, and he'd never seen her naked.

What the heck.

"OK, I'll do it."

"Yay," she said, and she gave her son a hug.

"Let's do this," she said, nodding. Each of them approached an open locker, on adjacent walls. Michael removed all the clothes from his bag, first, and stacked them neatly at the bottom of the locker. Then he took out a digital tablet, and a charger. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He lay the items on top of his clothes.

Now came the hard part.

He took off his shoes and socks first, tossing the socks in the locker and the shoes in his bag. Next, he pulled off his shirt. His mom had seen him in a swimsuit, so that was no big deal. He heard rustling behind him, off his right shoulder, and he knew his mother was taking off her clothes as well. He said nothing, and he kept his eyes focused on the locker in front of him. Next came his belt and his pants. All he had left was a pair of boxer briefs. He paused. This was the moment of truth. The rustling of clothes continued behind him. In a swift movement he pushed the briefs down his legs and stepped out of them. He tossed them in the locker as well. He glanced at his cock. He was half-hard already. It stood away from his body in a droopy half-arc. It was embarrassing to be in that state, but he felt an erotic tingle inside knowing his mom would see him for the first time thick and partly aroused rather than shrunken.

"All right, kiddo," he heard her say behind him. "Time to turn around."

He turned around and beheld his mother in all her loveliness for the first time. Her skin was darker than one would expect for a blonde, smooth and youthful, dotted with occasional freckles. Her breasts were full, with large pink-brown nipples, pulled down only a bit by gravity. He couldn't stop his eyes from being drawn by curiosity lower, between her legs. He was surprised. With his mom's new hippie style he expected a full, wild bush. Instead, her blond hair was closely cropped and shaped in a wedge, and it did nothing to hide thin lips dangling sweetly between parted legs. Susanna suddenly threw her hands out to her side.

"So, what do you think?" she asked with a laugh.

Michael was embarrassed, again.

"Uh, you look great, mom. Really."

She did.

"So do you," she said running here eyes up and down his body. "Now let's get going."

She picked up her bag and walked to the door. Michael's eyes now were drawn to her ass, full and firm and ripe, and exposed to his view. He felt another twinge between his legs. He worried about not being able to control his reaction. He didn't want to walk around other people with a raging hard-on. But he had no choice but to follow his mom now, and he did.

Michael followed his mom into the next room, where Varda waited. She beckoned them to follow her, and the three of them exited the building by the back door, stepped into the bright afternoon sun, and entered the main grounds of Anders Hot Springs.

Michael was not sure what he expected, but it wasn't this. He imagined it would look like a run-down, ex-hippie commune, with sulfurous pools of murky water all around. But it wasn't like that at all. A well-manicured campus of pools and wooden buildings spread out around them. Everything looked well-tended. The buildings were designed in an eclectic but mostly contemporary style. Several different pools, set in patios of concrete and wide stones, lay around. Naked people walked, sat, lay down, swam, and bathed all around them. Michael had expected to see a lot of old, fat, naked, unattractive people. A few people were like that, but most of them weren't. Many of them looked to be fit and trim and well-heeled. The ratio of men and women was about even. Some of the women were hot. But it was hard to pull his eyes away from his mom's ass.

As he walked along the path, naked, following Varda, surrounded by naked people, Michael realized he'd never done anything like this in his life. He'd never been to a nudist resort, or beach, or any other place where naked people were all around him like it was no big deal. The weirdness of it, thank goodness, offset the stimulus of seeing lots of attractive female flesh. His cock, still only half erect, behaved itself.

Varda guided them along a path that twisted away from the pool area to a collection of small wooden cabins. "Cabin" probably wasn't the right word. They were small, standalone structures, but they looked modern and inviting. Varda opened the door, pushing a few numbers on a keypad, and showed them into one.

It wasn't big, but it was big enough, with an understated décor of stained natural wood and off-white walls and carpet. A single large bed was pressed up against a side wall. Michael was surprised to see just one. Susanna walked to the far end of the room, and she leaned over to look out at a wooden deck with a sunny meadow beyond the big window. Michael caught a glimpse of her pussy between legs. He felt that twinge below again.

"It's 4 o'clock," Varda said. "There's no program tonight so you're free to do what you like. I recommend you try the hot spring pools. They have different temperatures, and you can figure out which you like best. Dinner is at 6:30 in the common room attached to the main building. You can meet your fellow guests there. Breakfast starts at 7 a.m. tomorrow. You'll have unstructured time after that, until 1 p.m., when the workshop starts. When that's done, you're free to spend more time at the pools and grounds for the rest of the afternoon, and you're stay will end after that. Any questions?"

"That sounds nice," Susanna said. "We'll get unpacked and then go out to the pool area."

"Very well," Varda said. "I will leave you and your partner to get to know the place, and I'll see you at dinner."

Michael furrowed his brow until she left.

"Mom," he said. "Partner? What does that mean? Do they - do they think we're a couple?"

"I'm sure they don't," she said. "I'm sure that's just the language they use. It's a neutral term. They want you to come to this program with an open mind."

"Yeah, maybe," he said. "But there's another thing."

"What's that?" she said.

"There's just one bed, mom. We're supposed to sleep naked together in bed?"

"That's a little awkward," she said, patting her hand on the bedspread as she said it. "But it's a big bed. Looks like a queen-sized bed. Plenty of space for me to have my side and you to have yours. We can put pillows between us if it makes you uncomfortable."

As she talked, she sat down on the end of the bed and her legs parted slightly and Michael saw the lips of her pussy. He tried to pull his eyes away and keep them on her face, but it was almost impossible. Her lips were parted, just a crack.

He wondered what it would be like to part them more, before he stopped his mind from going further in that direction.

Michael felt like he'd fallen down a rabbit hole. This was the strangest experience he'd ever had in his life, by far. Susanna sat naked with legs spread a few feet from him, on the bed. He was naked with a half-hard cock pointing roughly in her direction. He caught her glancing at it, between his own glances at the enticing junction between her legs.

"Well, one way of dealing with the awkwardness is to get out of the room," Susanna said. "Let's go out to the pools."

Michael couldn't argue with that. He had no phone or tablet, so he had no games to play or messages to check. There were no books in the room. The view outside the window was pretty, but it wouldn't hold his attention for long.

Michael and Susanna unpacked their few things, minus clothes, and then walked to the door.

"Um," Michael said. "Where are we going to keep the room key? We're naked. There's no place to keep it."

Susanna pulled it out and looked at.

"There's a code on it, for the door," she said. "445. We can leave the key here. Don't forget the code!"

Ordinarily, that wouldn't be a problem for Michael, because he was good with numbers. But his mind was so focused on the weirdness of the situation and with his mother's lush nude body that he wasn't sure he'd be able to remember it. Susanna, however, was right; there was a pad of number keys next to the handle on the outside of the door.

It was near evening by the time they got back to the pools, and the pools already were darkened by long shadows cast by the buildings around them. There were a few irregularly shaped, small pools and a larger pool. Michael figured out that the larger pool was for cooling off, and the smaller pools were fed by hot water coming directly from the springs. Susanna led the way, walking to the small pool in the middle, where a few other naked people already were gathered enjoying the steaming mineral waters. Her ass swayed in front of Michael as she walked, and he thought to himself that it was a nice, firm ass for a woman her age.

Susanna waded into the pool and plopped into it, but not so far that her breasts were fully submerged. She turned around as Michael walked down the pool's steps into the hot water, and her nipples floated just above the surface. The water was hotter than he expected, but not unbearable. He lowered himself into the water quickly, to hide his confused and half-hard cock from view.

The water felt delicious - not just hot, but tinged with a pleasant, astringent quality from all the natural minerals in it. Michael submerged himself to his neck, and he instantly felt the water doing its work. It was easy to imagine it sucking everything bad and unpleasant out of his body. He closed his eyes for a moment. Michael wasn't a very spiritual person, so he wouldn't have described himself as feeling one with the universe, or anything like that. But a feeling of calm and peace swept over him, and for a moment he forgot that his nude mother bobbed in the water nearby.

He didn't know how long he sat in the water, eyes closed and tuned out to everything around him, but his eyes opened again when he heard his mother laugh. He turned to the source of the noise, and now she was out of the pool, sitting on the edge, talking to a couple that sat together at the edge about a quarter turn around the roundish pool. To Michael's eyes, they looked like they were about thirty, and they had a confident, sleek look that made him think they had money. The woman was gorgeous, with long dark hair and dark eyes. The guy wore expensive sunglasses despite being in the shade.

Michael also noticed quickly the way the woman sat: leaning back, her hands against the stones, one leg turned away and dangling in the water, and the other up and bent, with her foot on the pool edge. Her pose left her pussy on conspicuous display to anyone in or around the pool. Michael couldn't help but stare between her legs for a moment, and he forced himself to turn away to avoid seeming like a creep. He turned to his mom, and to his surprise he found she was in the same position. Her pose was an exact mirror of the younger woman's.

Michael felt a strange vibe about it. It was a clothing-optional resort, and he knew that at such places being nude was regarded as something normal and natural and non-sexual. But he detected a trace of something else going on in his mother's posing. Her knees seemed to be a bit farther apart than they had to be. Her body was inclined farther back than it had to be, and the result was that not only was the entire cleft of her pussy in view, with a hint of pink showing between her labia, but the creased circle of her anus was as well. Susanna was carrying on an animated conversation with the man and woman, letting them see her in her full glory. Michael couldn't see the man's eyes behind his sunglasses, but the glasses faced his mom and they never moved.

"So, you haven't been here before?" he asked Susanna.

"No, we never have," she said. "Our first time."

"Lisa and I come a couple of times a year," the sleek guy said. "We always have a great time. My name's Troy by the way."

"Susanna, "she replied.

"This your partner?" Troy asked, pointing at Michael.

"Uh . . . yes," Susanna replied. She didn't say anything more.

Michael thought it was strange being referred to as his mother's partner, and stranger still that his mother didn't correct Troy. He could see how Troy wouldn't immediately assume he was her son, both because of the circumstances and because Susanna and Michael didn't look much alike. But he wondered why his mother didn't say anything. He assumed she kept quiet because it would have been awkward under the circumstances to reveal the truth. It was becoming increasingly clear that the weekend was not going the way Michael's mom had expected it would. This wasn't a family event. That much was clear.

"I'm Troy," said the sleek man with the glasses, looking at Michael. Michael held out a hand. They shook.

"Michael," he said.

"Nice to meet you," Troy said. Michael noticed he was looking at his mom while he talked to Michael, and Troy's girlfriend was looking at Michael. They exchanged glances.

"If you want to stop by our cabin after dinner, we're number 22," Troy said. "We'd love to have another couple come over. Probably around 8. Feel free to knock if you're interested."

Couple, Michael thought. Troy had called Susanna and Michael a couple. Michael thought this was getting weirder and weirder. Troy obviously was checking out his mom, and Michael had a pretty good idea he was being checked out by Troy's girlfriend.

The chit chat continued for another half hour. The shadows lengthened and then the sun disappeared behind a hill to the west. Susanna and Michael walked back to their room. He let her walk ahead of him, again, and he kept noticing the way her ass swayed as she walked. It swayed a lot. Michael wondered if she was making it sway more than necessary, for his benefit. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.

There wasn't much to do when they returned to the room. Michael sat on the bed, his dick flopping between his legs, wondering what to do, while Susanna went into the bathroom to take a shower. She left the door open.

Not more than a minute after Susanna started, she called to her son.

"Michael, would you come here for a minute?"

Michael had heard that call before. This time, he responded right away.

From the open door of the bathroom Michael saw his mom in the shower. It was an open shower with a tile floor, and a glass wall and door, with no curtain. Before he said anything, he watched his mother soaping and washing herself. Suds coated her body. Her hands cupped her breasts, swept over and above them, and then spread over her smooth flanks down to her hips. He eyes were closed, and she put a hand between her legs, rubbing soap and suds down there. Michael was mesmerized at the site of his mom's hands running all over her body. A few moments later she opened her eyes.

Michael felt embarrassed to be caught ogling her, but his mom didn't seem to notice or mind.

"Michael," Susanna said. "Are you OK with everything so far? I know this is strange for you." She didn't stop running her hands over her body, working the soap into every nook and crevice, as she spoke. Michael's eyes focused on the hard points of her tits under the soap suds. It was difficult to focus on her words, but he tried.

"It's OK, mom," he said. "It's strange, but I think I'm getting used to it." That wasn't at all true, but he didn't want mom to be alarmed at his agitation.

"I'm glad," she said, facing her son. Her hand rubbed furiously between her legs, flecks of soap spraying all around. "I think we should try to make this as normal as possible."

"Sure, mom," Michael said. There was no way he was ever going to think of this as normal.

Mom finished washing herself, turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. Michael noticed the way her breasts quivered as she stepped through the shower door, and the way the dangling, wet lips of her pussy glistened in the bathroom light. Nope, he thought. There was no way to see any of this as normal. But he couldn't stop watching.

"You should take a shower, too," she said, as she squeezed past him to get out of the shower. He felt the nubs of her tits brush against his back for a split second.

Michael did as she asked. He turned the dial to a colder than usual setting. He thought the cold water might quell the rising and disturbing interest he was feeling in the gorgeous, nude figure of his mother.

The cold shower was unpleasant, so he cut it short. He got out quickly and toweled off. When he left the bathroom, his mother, as nude and hot as ever, stood before him.

"Let's go to dinner," she said.

Michael thought that sounded like a good idea. As soon as she said it, he realized how hungry he was. They left their room and stepped outside. The sun had long since set, and the trees on the hills around the resort were inky black against a purply sky. But the air still was warm. When Michael thought about where he was headed his self-consciousness came back. He was walking, completely nude, to get dinner, and everyone there would see him nude. It was difficult to get accustomed to this place.

The dining room was spacious and comfortable, with pale oak walls and tables arrayed in rows for the guests. It was half-full of naked people when Michael and Susanna arrived. Along one wall was a buffet. Susanna and Michael loaded their plates with food and took their places at an empty table. Not more than a minute after they sat down, Troy and Lisa joined them - Lisa next to Michael, and Troy next to Susanna. Another couple, about the same age, followed behind Troy and Lisa.

"Susanna and Michael," Troy said. "This is Chuck and Madeline. We met them at the last session, a year ago." Susanna and Michael shook hands with the newcomers.

"Michael and Susanna are new to the program," Troy said, turning to Chuck and Madeline. "They've never been here before."

"Really?" said the guy, Chuck. "This is your first time with the program? We've been for several sessions, but we liked the first one so much we've come back to repeat it. You're going to like it."

Michael had no idea what he was talking about. The words meant nothing to him. He glanced at his mother. She looked confused, too, but she didn't seem to want to let on.

"Well, uh," she said, stammering, "We felt comfortable going to this . . . session."

"That's awesome," said Madeline. Her breasts were small, but her nipples weren't. They were an unusually dark pink and they stood out in hard points from her chest. Michael felt a tingle between his legs.

"How long have you two been together?" Madeline asked, looking at first at Michael and then at Susanna.

Michael didn't know what to say. This was all getting stranger and stranger.

"We've been together for a long time," Susanna said. Michael looked at her and she caught his gaze. Neither one of them said anything more.

Michael concentrated on eating his dinner, and Susanna did, too. The other two couples at the table talked to each other. Michael and Susanna joined the conversation from time to time, but neither of them contributed much. They were too confused about the steady flow of innuendo between their table companions.

Madeline and Chuck finished first. After they had left the table, Troy spoke.

"Dinner finishes early here. How about joining us at our cabin afterward? We can hang out. And we've got a nice bottle of Chardonnay that needs drinking. It'll be fun."

Michael looked at his mom. This was her vacation, and it was her call.

"OK," she said. She looked at her son, as though to get approval. He had no idea what he felt about the situation, so he looked at her with what he thought was a noncommittal expression. Evidently, that was enough for Susanna.

"We'll do it," she said.

"Great," Troy said. "Come by our place any time after eight o'clock."

A few minutes later Susanna and Michael left the dining room and walked back to the cabin. Inside, they walked about the room nervously, not sure what to say to each other. Susanna didn't say anything, so Michael spoke first.

"They think we're a couple, mom," he said. "Nobody here knows I'm your son."

"I know," she said. "This is very strange. I thought this would be different. I'm not sure why. I'm confused about things."

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "It's still early, and I'm not tired. I'm not sure what to do here. Why don't we go to Troy and Lisa's cabin?"

Michael had no other ideas, so he followed his mom out of the cabin. A minute later they knocked on the door of Troy and Lisa's cabin.

As Susanna knocked on the door, Michael stared at her ass, and at the rest of her. His mother was beautiful. But she and he didn't look much alike. He could see how people would not assume they were mother and son. But it was weird to think that everyone at the resort saw them as a couple.

He didn't have more time to think about it, because the door to the cabin opened suddenly. It was Troy, naked, of course.

"Susanna!" he said. "Michael! Come on in."

Lisa sat on the bed, facing the door, legs parted wide and chest out, her pale tits seeming to stare right at Michael. There was no way to see her pose as anything but inviting. Troy motioned his guests to sit on a sofa against the wall. He handed each of them a wine glass and poured Chardonnay into each one. Then he sat on the bed next to Lisa and wrapped his arm around her side. She giggled.

"Do you feel like you're getting the hang of the place?" Troy asked, putting a slight emphasis on the word "hang."

"I think so," Susanna said. "It's still new to us. We've never been to a place like this before."

"I get it," he said. "You'll get used to it fast. I mean, it's not as though you haven't seen each other like this before, right?" He laughed.

Neither Susanna nor Michael said anything in response. They never had seen each other completely naked before today, but Michael wasn't going to tell that to Troy. He tried to keep his cool, thinking this was by far the weirdest situation of his life.

"Lisa and I fell in love with this place the first time, and we love coming back. It's been great for the relationship. Isn't that right, baby?"

"Yes, it is," Lisa said, turning Troy's face to hers with her hands and planting a huge, noisy open-mouthed kiss on his waiting lips. Michel saw the tip of her tongue enter his mouth. He cupped her breast.

Susanna and Michael watched quietly. They sipped their wine. Troy and Lisa kissed for nearly a minute before Troy came up for air.

"I hope you don't mind," he said. "This place just makes me horny. Feel free to make yourselves comfortable." He winked at Michael when he said it, and then kissed Lisa more, his hand now grabbing her hair in bunches at the back of her head.

Susanna and Michael looked at each other. They finished their wine. Michael was curious about what his mom was going to do. He didn't wait long.

"Troy, Lisa," she said. "I'm actually rather tired. It's been a long day. I think we're going to go back to our cabin. Thank you for the wine."

"You sure?" Lisa asked after peeling her lips off Troy's. "We thought you might be open to some fun. Troy and I are very open." She looked into Michael's eyes as she spoke. Michael caught Troy staring at his mom.

"I'm sure," Susanna said, standing up. "I'm tired. Another time, maybe."

Michael and Susanna got out of there fast and shut the door behind them.

"Mom, what have you gotten us into?"

"I swear, Michael, I don't understand. This is not like what I expected at all. After they assumed we were a couple I was embarrassed to say we were mother and son. And now this deception's been going on for a while. I think, to avoid awkwardness, we should just keep that quiet and keep our cool."

Michael thought it was a tall order to ask him to keep his cool while hanging out with his naked mother at a resort where everyone thought they were lovers. But he couldn't think of anything else to do.

Back inside the cabin again a minute later, Susanna beckoned to Michael.

"Let's go out on the back deck. It's warm out and it's still early."

"I thought you were tired."

"No, I just said that to get out of there and leave those two to themselves."

A door in the back of the cabin opened to an uncovered, private wooden deck. It faced a meadow, with a small creek gurgling through it. A fat moon, just past full, shone overhead, bathing the meadow and surrounding trees in a milky sheen.

Two lounge chairs with the backs propped up faced each other. Susanna took one. Michael took the other. She put her hands behind her head and turned her face skyward, to the spectral light of the moon. If anything, Michael thought his mom looked even more beautiful under the light of the moon than she had during the day.

Susanna looked young for her age in any light, but the light from the moon softened and took years off her skin. Her chest was arched, and her breasts lay firm against it, nipples pointed up. Michael's eyes traced a curve between her breasts, over her navel and down to the gap between her legs. Her thighs were open again, and the full slit of her pussy was on display. The lips glistened faintly under the moon glow.

Michael felt it: his cock hardening. He looked down at the lap of his own naked body, and his cock stood up and away from him. He looked up again. Susanna's eyes were out of sight, looking toward the canopy of stars over them. Michael didn't think she could see him. He heard her sigh. She shifted and her left thigh bent open still more.

His cock was rock hard now. Glancing briefly at Susanna again to confirm that she was looking away from him, he touched the erect shaft with his fingers. His eyes were on his mom's pussy as he touched it. He knew he shouldn't do it, not only because his mom might see him but because touching it would only make his need worse. He wasn't going to jerk himself off in front of his mom. But the lure of gripping and stroking himself in front of his mom's open pussy was almost too much to handle. He gripped his cock a little more tightly, between his thumb and too fingers. He thought that maybe if his mom lay that way for just a few minutes and he was quiet -

"Beautiful, isn't?" Susanna asked, breaking the silence. She shifted her gaze back to Michael slowly, giving him time to pull his hand away before she saw it. Or so he thought.

"It is," he said, turning his eyes away from the gap between her legs to the moonlit meadow. He bent his legs up to prevent her from seeing his erection. He wasn't sure if she saw it or not.

Mom stretched her arms above her head and purred, her lambent, nude body stretched like a cat.

They didn't say anything for a long time. Susanna lay nearly still on her chair, the moon's rays reflecting off her lithe body. After a while she stood up and walked to the rail framing the porch. She leaned forward against it, her ass pushed out and back toward Michael. She leaned over far enough that she gave Michael just a shadowy peek beneath her ass of a slit framed by petite, dangling lips. His cock swelled again. He began stroking it. He felt terrible doing it, sort of. But he couldn't help himself. His arousal overwhelmed his guilt. His pace quickened, but he tried to keep his movements as quiet as possible, so his mother would not hear him. Crickets chirped all around them in a nighttime symphony, masking the sound of his stroking and helping him avoid detection. Finally, Susanna turned around. Michael moved his hand away before she did, but he didn't shift his body fast enough to hide his hard-on before she looked at him.

In the dark Michael couldn't tell if she saw his erect cock. She stood still by the rail of the deck and her face bore a faint, inscrutable smile. Michael wondered if she had seen more than he thought she had.

"Come join me over her, Michael." She patted the cap rail to the side of her. Michael got up. There was no way to hide his hardness, and it careened from side to side as he approached her. He leaned over the rail just as she did, staring out into the meadow. Under the pale glow of the moon and stars, surrounded by the song of crickets, and standing next to his nude mom, whose breasts were pressed between her arms, Michael felt light-headed.

"This meadow reminds me of something I heard once. A story. Told by a woman who named Alida. She called herself a shaman. I visited her with a few friends a couple of years ago."

Michael vaguely remembered his mother telling him about that visit. It had been a few years ago, earlier in her post-professional, neo-hippie phase. She'd gone with some like-minded female friends going through similar mid-life crises.

"This shaman, Alida, she gathered us into her living room. And we were asking her questions about love. How to find it. We were all man-less at the time. And Alida shushed us. She said 'That is not a question to ask. To receive love, you must give it of yourself. You must give yourself.'

"And then she told us to close our eyes and imagine standing in a meadow under a full moon. And she told us to imagine that we were naked, and dancing under the moon, giving ourselves up to the moon. She said, 'Do that, and the moon will transform you. Give yourself, utterly and completely, to the person you love most. Under the moon, you'll find the love you need.'"

Susanna paused. "It didn't make a lot of sense to us at the time. But it stuck with me. Her words were so seductive I could imagine myself in that meadow, dancing naked, giving myself to the moon. This meadow reminded me of that."

She paused and stood quietly at the rail again. Neither of them said anything for a while.

"Time to go inside," she said suddenly. "I'm going to go to bed. I want to get a good night's sleep for tomorrow."

Michael agreed, but the next part might have been the strangest of all - climbing nude into the same bed as his mother. Before she turned out the light, he caught another glimpse of the curve of her body and the swell of her breasts. He didn't get a long glimpse, but he thought her nipples looked hard.

"Good night, Michael," she said as the light switched off. For a moment, their bodies under the covers, they lay on the bed facing each other, and Susanna smiled. Then she turned away. Michael did too. It would be easier to get to sleep, he thought, if he wasn't staring at her nude back.

It wasn't easy to sleep, though. The combination of utter weirdness and intense arousal kept Michael up for an hour or more. He stared into the darkness of the room around him, the image of his mom's body dancing naked in a meadow through his head, giving herself to the moon and to the one she loved most. He wondered who that was.

His feelings were jumbled. It had been a strange day. He had no idea what the next day would bring, but he guessed it would be even stranger.

Eventually, he fell asleep.

Michael slept until 8, awakened finally by the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom. He rubbed his eyes, threw the covers off, and stood up, stretching and yawning. He walked across the room to get his toiletry kit from his bag, and he noticed Susanna had left the bathroom door open. He walked toward it.

"Morning, mom," he said, his voice still scratchy from just waking.

He saw his mom through a clear glass shower door. She was spreading a thick lather of soap over her breasts, cupping them and rubbing them with vigor. She turned and faced him as the water washed the soap off her chest.

"Good morning, Michael. Did you sleep well?"

He could have slept better, but he didn't tell her that.

"I slept fine," he said. "So, what's up next on the agenda at this place?"

"Breakfast," she said. "We're actually late, so we need to hurry to get ready. Come on in here. I'm just about done."

MIchael was getting hard once again, his cock standing out nearly straight from his body. He thought it better to wait, but he didn't know when his hardness would subside.

Fuck it, he thought. Mom got me into this crazy situation. She's going to have to see the consequences.

He walked into the room, his dick bobbing ahead of him. This time, he could tell mom saw it, but she didn't say anything. She pushed the shower door open to let him in. She finished rinsing off and walked out, but not before her breasts grazed against his back, just like the day before.

This is going to drive me crazy, Michael thought.

He wondered if he should say something. He couldn't quite tell if mom was just trying to push him into thinking this was normal, or if she had some other thought in mind. He couldn't really let his brain go there - thinking about his mom that way, wondering what her intentions were. But he couldn't completely stop it from going there, either.

He showered quickly, toweled off, and shaved. Susanna had rubbed her head furiously with the towel, but her hair was still damp when Michael told her he was ready.

By the time they got to breakfast most of the other guests were nearly done with theirs. When Michael was halfway through his scrambled eggs, organic toast, and orange juice, a gray-haired 60-something man entered the room. Unlike the rest of the occupants of the dining room, he was clothed, in white shorts and t shirt. He clapped his hands as he walked forward.

"Good morning, everyone," he said in a voice that Michael thought was too loud and cheerful for early morning. "My name is Thomas, and I'm the director and instructor for today's workshop. I wanted to remind you about our agenda for the day. The program is at 1:30. Between now and then you are free to do as you please, hang out by the springs and pools, get a massage, or stroll the grounds. We have some lovely hiking trails. Lunch will be at 12:00. The program begins in the pavilion room, so I will see you there at 1:30. We recommend that you take a shower before coming, especially if you've been hiking."

Thomas turned around and left. Susanna was in no hurry to finish breakfast, but she didn't say much. Michael wondered what she was thinking. His eyes strayed a few times to the swell of her breasts, which shook and swayed faintly as she ate. He got a second helping of the eggs and some free-range chicken sausages, and Susanna was only just finishing her first serving when he'd finished his second. Finally, she was ready to leave. They walked back to the room.

"So, what now, mom?" Michael asked.

"I thought we would go on a hike. It looks like a great day for it. But I need to put on some sun screen and get my sandals on first."

In the room Michael found his sport sandals. He wasn't going to go barefoot on the hiking trail. Susanna lathered her body with sunscreen in broad strokes. Michael saw delicate hands spread it over her breasts, then down her abs, and then finally between her open thighs. She didn't miss a spot. He hadn't thought about putting sunscreen down there, but he guessed it made sense. It was paler than the rest of her.

"Get my back?" she asked him.

After she asked, he realized that although he'd seen her naked for the last day and been next to her, he hadn't put his hands on her nude body until now. The lotion spit out of the tube as he squeezed it, a big dollop in his hand. He mashed both hands together and then started at her shoulders.

His mother's skin felt delicious. It was soft and smooth, but with a tone of hardness underneath that bespoke the fit shape in which she kept herself. His hands circled lower from her shoulders toward the middle of the back. Michael was getting hard yet again. He squirted out more of the sunscreen, more than he needed, and continued down her back, where she obviously had spread no lotion. He still had more on his hands by the time he reached the bottom of her back, so he quickly ran his hands down her butt, making sure each cheek was covered..

188 Michael's Mom Has Got It Going ON P2

"There," he said.

"Thanks," she said. She finished the rest lathering the rest of her body and handed the sunscreen to him. He covered himself in it, but after finishing his legs and abs he looked down and realized there was one more part that needed covering: his pale, hard dick, still standing at attention. He encircled it with his lotion-covered hand and stroked from the base to the tip. He stroked it just once, but he was in such a high state of agitation for a second he thought he might spurt right there on the carpet. Fortunately, he didn't. He caught mom smiling and looking at him.

"Are we ready?"

"Let's go, mom," Michael said.

It wasn't difficult to find out where to go. A large wooden kiosk at the edge of the resort contained a map of the grounds and showed a snaky network of trails winding through the surrounding hills. Susanna and Michael started up a trail that looked promising. It took them steeply up a hill blanketed in sun-tanned grass. An open forest of oaks stood around them, and the trees closed in as they ascended. Already the day was warm, and the sun beat down from overhead. Cicadas buzzed from unseen locations nearby.

They hiked perhaps half a mile, mostly in silence. Then Susanna spoke.

"It looks like we have the woods to ourselves. I guess everyone else wanted to get massages and hang out in the hot springs. We're just hardier than they are."

She laughed. Michael did, too, but secretly he was glad they had chosen to hike. The idea of a massage didn't appeal to him, and he wasn't interested in hanging out naked by a pool in front of a bunch of people. But that wasn't the only reason. He liked the idea of being with his mom, naked, just the two of them. He had started to become accustomed to staring at her, and it was easier to do without a lot of people around them. For a while he hiked behind her, and he forgot about the scenery around them. His eyes were fixed on her smooth back and on the round, firm cheeks of her ass, jiggling slightly as she climbed ahead of him. He caught glimpses between her legs. And as they hiked farther, he saw the pale sheen of sweat, mixed with the lotion, coating her body. He wasn't fully hard, but he was half-way there, and his dick flopped and swayed wildly in every direction as he hiked behind her.

They came to a fork in the trail about a mile from the resort. A narrow side trail veered off the from main trail that they'd been hiking. Susanna beckoned right and they started in a new direction, climbing more steeply still into denser forest.

After another half mile they crested a rise and descended, and they soon came to a creek. It had nearly dried up. Just a sliver of water trickled down along the bottom.

"Let's stop and get a drink," Susanna said.

They drank from water bottles Michael carried in a small backpack, and Susanna fished out two snack bars to munch as well. Susanna sat back on a low, large rock, resting her butt against its broad, flat top. Her legs fell open again, and Michael's eyes couldn't help it, once again. He stared at her pussy. Maybe it was just sweat, but the lips glistened even in the dappled light that filtered through the trees around them.

He must have stared at her longer than he thought, because when he finally looked up Susanna was staring at him, her lips pursed in a wry smile.

"Michael, do you like what you see?"

Susanna's question caught Michael short. He was sure his face registered shock. Susanna smirked at Michael. She's caught me, he thought. He barely could stammer in reply.

"What . . . what do you mean?"

"You were looking at me. Down there. Between my legs. Do you like what you see?"

There was no good way to reply to a question like that, Michael thought.

"Mom, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I won't do that again."

"Michael, don't be silly. And don't tell me you didn't mean to. I saw you doing it several times. You've been doing it ever since we got naked yesterday. You were looking at my vulva. You like looking at it, right?"

Michael's discomfort was sky-high. Not only had his mom caught him looking at her down there, but now she was putting on her psychologist's let's-be-completely-honest-about-everything manner. The last thing Michael wanted was to talk honestly with his mom about looking at her pussy. His mom, of course, adopting her clinical mode, had to use the word "vulva." He had never been comfortable with that word.

"Come on, Michael. Be honest."

"OK. Yes. I was looking at it. It's hard not to. You're a woman, you're attractive, and you're naked."

"Exactly," she said. "It's normal."

"I'm having a hard time getting used to this being normal."

"Well, I didn't raise you as a nudist. But many families around the world practice nudism, and they get used to nudity. To them it's a completely normal, day to day thing. It's all a matter of habituation."

She hopped up on the flat surface of the rock, and she patted it with her hand.

"Come over here, Michael."

She sat on one end of the rock and turned around. Michael reluctantly followed and sat on it as well, a few feet from her. His cock had begun to swell with all the talk about his mom's pussy, and he tried to conceal it by pressing his legs together.

"Face me, Michael. On the rock surface."

Reluctantly, Michael did as Susanna told him to do. He swung his legs up on the rock and sat cross-legged, facing her. His cock, choosing a bad time not to cooperate, grew still harder and popped up from his lap, angling in his mom's direction.

"I can see you're definitely interested in the subject," she said and smiled. She looked him in the eyes.

"Now, look at me," she said.

Michael stared back at her.

"No, not at my face. Down here." She pointed to her lap, between her legs stretched out to either side of the rock surface. "Look at my vulva."

"Mom -"

"Michael, go ahead. I want you to."

He did, slowly, his eyes trailing away from her face, down her neck, to her plump breasts, past her belly, and finally to the junction between her thighs. Susanna angled her hips toward her son, until the full vertical slit of her pussy was in his view, top to bottom. She sat only a few feet from him, so he got the closest, best look he'd had of it yet. He thought it was lovely, the mounds of her outer lips framing and pressing against the thin folds of her inner lips. Blond, well-trimmed hair lay about the lips them but did nothing to conceal them. Her inner lips were parted, just a crack, and he noticed a faint glistening inside from the reflected light coming through the trees overhead in slender shafts.

"I think it's time to be candid with each other," she said. "You and I have never been naked together like this. I don't think you've ever seen me fully naked before. Am I right?"

"Yes," he said, struggling to pull his eyes away from her pussy.

"We have some more time here," she said. "We're going to be naked together for a while longer, and if we're going to get something out of our visit here we need to be comfortable. I know you've been trying to be discreet about it, but I can tell you've been agitated. I don't want you to be that way. If you're agitated, then I'm going to be agitated, and neither one of us will get what we should out of this program. So, we're going to try something that should make us both more comfortable.

"Scoot closer," she said.

Michael scooted closer. Mom spread her legs wider still.

"We're going to play some show and tell, so we can put the mystique and strangeness of our nudity to rest and enjoy the rest of the day. OK?"

"I guess so, mom."

"Good. So, this is my vulva," mom said. "You can see the hood here, covering my clitoris." She traced its length with her index finger. It was long and it fully concealed the nub of skin underneath.

"I know what a vulva is, mom. I've seen one before. More than one."

"But you haven't seen mine before, Michael. This is about habituation, remember? Getting you accustomed to something you haven't seen before. Making you comfortable so we don't have to deal with any awkwardness for the rest of the time we're here. Bear with me. It's just anatomy. Nothing more."

She pulled the skin of the hood up and back.

"Now you can see my clitoris. It's small and not easy to see, but it's right there." She touched her finger to the round pink bit of flesh under the folds of skin. She pulled her finger back.

"Ahhh, sensitive!" she said. "Go ahead and get a good look."

Michael leaned closer. There was something mesmerizing about his mom, just feet away, exposing herself to him as she was, and encouraging him to look at her. She was beautiful. Some part of Michael could appreciate that her pussy was appealing in a way that was more than sexual, that its curve and shape and color were beautiful like a flower. But at the same time, he was turned on. It was his mom's pussy, sure, but it was a pussy. And, sitting there, looking at her, with his cock standing straight up in salute from his lap, he couldn't imagine ever being so "habituated" to it that he wouldn't be turned on by the sight of it. And he wondered, too, if his mom really was convinced if that was possible. He wondered if this really was just a therapeutic exercise for her. He wondered if, even just a little bit, mom was turned on, too.

He didn't have time to think about it more because mom suddenly spread her lips apart with her fingers.

"Now you can see my vagina. You know the difference between a vulva and a vagina, right?"

"Mom, of course I do." It was embarrassing to listen to her talk this way, but his eyes were glued to the pink gash she had opened to him. He was a healthy, libidinous 21-old-male, and he'd seen plenty of pussies, but he'd never seen one presented to him quite so brazenly. He tried to fight the feeling, because he was looking at his mom, but he couldn't help but acknowledge how arousing it was to see her this way.

Susanna continued with her anatomy lesson as though he hadn't said anything.

"The vulva is the proper name for the exterior, although some people call it a 'vagina.' But the vagina is only the interior part. You can see from the light reflecting off it that it's a little wet. Some women at my age get drier, especially around menopause, and dryness can make sex uncomfortable. I'm fortunate I stay fairly wet down there and that's not a problem for me."

If Susanna was unaware that she was talking to her son about her body's ability to handle being fucked, Michael wasn't. In his mind he imagined a hard cock pushing into the wide-open pussy in front of him. He tried to purge the thought but couldn't. Susanna continued, seemingly unaware of the thoughts and feelings her words aroused.

"If you look down here, you can see the urethral opening. That's where pee comes out. A lot of men seem to find it a mystery where a woman's pee comes from, but there's no mystery to it."

Michael's jaw dropped open, without his noticing it. He was spellbound at this point and couldn't say anything. Whether it was because it was his mom or not, he'd never seen anything as arousing in his life as what she was showing him. The detached, clinical manner of her presentation somehow made it even more arousing, not less.

"Down here, just below the urethra, you can see the vaginal opening. That's where the man's penis goes during intercourse."

She peeled her pussy open still farther, so Michael could look deep inside her channel. She held herself open, so he could look for as long as he wanted. How long, Michael don't know. He lost track of the time he spent looking deep into his mother as far as he could see, where bright pink gave way to a dusky rose that faded away into shadow. It seemed to Michael it must have been a minute or so that he sat transfixed, staring into his mother's depths. He couldn't tear his eyes away and she seemed to be willing to let him look as long as he wanted. When he broke his gaze from it and looked up and at her face, he noticed she was staring at his cock, which remained as hard and straight as ever. That gave him a twinge. Mom noticed him noticing her, and she looked away. Was she embarrassed? Michael thought she might be.

This was getting stranger and stranger, and he was getting more excited.

Mom closed her legs.

"Lesson over for now," she said. "I don't know how much you were paying attention, but it looks like your penis was." She pointed to it. His shaft stood straight away from his lap, hard and vertical and directed at the tree canopy above them.

"Sorry about that," Michael said.

"Michael, there's no need to be sorry," she said. "I hope for your sake your, um, 'interest' subsides a little. Our hike might be uncomfortable for you if it doesn't."

She hopped off the rock and sauntered back to the trail. Michael watched her ass sway as she turned away from him. Right then he knew for certain, if he hadn't fully realized it before, that he would never look at his mom the same way again. His mother's "lesson" had had the opposite effect of the one intended. Instead of desexualizing her nudity, it had aroused him. He remained aroused as they continued their hike.

The narrow trail on which they'd been walking looped around, heading back to the main trail from which they'd come. The mix of trees in this part was more varied, and a dense understory of bushes blocked most of the view going forward.

Coming around a sharp turn in the trail, both Susanna and Michael started at the sound of a squeal in front of them. It was a woman. The squeal was followed by a moan. Susanna and Michael stopped in their tracks and listened. There was no question what they were hearing: two people fucking. Intermixed with the unseen woman's high-pitched moans was a male voice urgently saying, "Yeah, baby. Take that. Take my cock. Just like that."

Susanna and Michael looked at each other. For a moment they weren't sure what to do. They could continue on the trail, but they'd startle the couple and interrupt them. Or they could turn back and return from where they'd come. But neither one of them wanted to do that.

Michael decided what to do. He put his finger to his mouth, whispered "Shhhhh," and crept forward, waving to Susanna to follow him.

"Michael, we shouldn't," she whispered.

"We've been looking at naked people for the last day," Michael said, just as quietly. "Knowing the people who come here, they probably wouldn't mind if we watched them."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. She resisted at first, but then she followed him. He guided both of them to a spot where the density of the bushes lessened. The bush ahead of them had enough gaps in its leaves and branches that they could see through it.

30 feet from where they crouched, they saw a slender strawberry blonde woman with her hands against the trunk of a sycamore, her legs wide apart and her ass thrust backward, grabbed tight by the hands of a dark-haired man rapidly thrusting in and out of her from behind.

Michael liked this place more and more. Susanna saw but hung back. He looked back at her. She looked embarrassed and guilty. But Michael held fast to her hand and pulled her forward and in front of him. He wanted her to watch. She followed his direction. She scooted forward, not making a sound. When she settled in place, she half crouched in front of him to get the best view through the gap in the bush. Michael crouched directly behind her, and he put his hands on her waist to steady them. Susanna shifted for just a second as though to object, but then she stopped and grew quiet in her son's firm grasp. She put one hand atop his on her side. They watched the young couple fucking with abandon before them.

Michael's cock was even harder now, and from where he stood behind his mom its thick head was no more than an inch from the small of her back and the top of the cleft than ran down between her cheeks. Michael wanted a better view, so he ducked down a little more and pulled back. He could see the darker patch of her anus now, and below it the edge of her pussy. For a moment he got lost in the sight and forgot about looking at the fucking couple in front of them. Mom's ass mesmerized him so much more. His cock tip was just inches from her entrance. If he pushed forward just a little -

It was tempting. But he didn't do it. Maybe it was his sense of propriety, or maybe it was just nerves. But while the angle was perfect to take her, the timing wasn't right. Michael held back.

The couple continued fucking like that for another five minutes. Then they quickened their tempo, and Michael could tell the man was about to come. But before he did, he pulled out, and Michael heard him say, "Turn around, Kate."

The woman spun around and sank to ground, her knees against the forest floor. She held her hands to her side and looked up at her lover with her mouth open and eyes wide. Not 20 seconds later the man's cock gave way and he splattered her face and chest with a messy spray of cum.

Michael felt his mother's hand tighten on his, and she shifted back and to the side. Michael's cock head collided with an ass cheek and veered to the side. His mother didn't even seem to notice. She kept looking forward. Michael and Susanna watched the couple to see what they would do.

"My cum is all over you, Kate," the man said.

"I love it that way," said Kate, drawing her finger along her cheek, scooping up some of his milky seed and taking it in her mouth. "I love the taste, too. I love your cum, Drew."

"Don't eat too much," said Drew. "I want you to wear it on you as we hike back. You'll stay like that until we get back to the pool, and then you'll get in and wash it off in front of everyone."

Kate giggled. "We're not supposed to do that. We're supposed to wash our bodies before entering the pools or springs."

"Sometimes you gotta break the rules, baby. This is one of those times."

He helped her up with his hand and they grabbed and kissed each other loudly. When they stopped, they talked to each other in a tone too soft to hear. After another minute they turned and walked back to the small trail, joining it at a spot about 100 feet ahead of Michael and Susanna.

Susanna pushed back and stood up, and her ass once again brushed Michael's cock head. Michael felt like he was going to burst. If he'd been on his own at that point he would have jerked off immediately. His hand started going down and for a split second he thought he'd stroke himself anyway, mom or no mom. But he stopped. Susanna looked him over, turned, and crept quietly toward the trail. Michael followed her.

"Let's give that couple some space so they don't see us. I don't want them to think we saw them."

"But we DID see them, mom, and if they knew they'd probably like it."

"Hmmm," she said. "Maybe. But that's for them to decide, not us."

They waited a few minutes on the trail. Mom turned to Michael again.

"That was . . . something. Wow. I feel bad. I've never been a peeper before, and I certainly never expected to be one with my son."

"We're doing a lot of things this weekend we've never done before," Michael said. "And there's more weekend ahead."

"True," she said. "I think the program this afternoon will calm things down a while. It's supposed to improve personal communication."

With every passing minute Michael grew more certain that the program his mother had signed up for was going to be different from what she expected. But if his mom suspected so, too, she didn't let on. She stood alongside him, chin up and smiling, seemingly unaware. Michael didn't know what to expect, and he didn't say anything.

"Let's go," Susanna said at last.

Most of the way back was downhill. By the time they got back to the resort it was mid-day, and their bodies were coated in sweat and their shins were sprinkled with fine dust. They didn't have a lot of time before the program started, so they ducked into the dining room and grabbed sandwiches and walked back to their room.

"We need to shower," Susanna said, wolfing down her sandwich in big bites. When she was done. she shucked off the sandals and entered the bathroom. She left the door open, again. Then Michael heard the tinkle of water. His mom was peeing with the door open. That was another first, Michael thought. This was getting stranger and stranger. He stood to the side of the door, and he couldn't see her. A thought just popped into his head.

"Mom, which program did you say you signed up for?"

"Program 3, Open Communication," she yelled over the sound of water. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. I wanted to see what it's about."

"The brochure is in my bag," she called. "I haven't read it, but be my guest."

Michael heard the sound of flushing, and then of the shower being turned on. He walked across the room to her bag and unzipped it. Inside was a shiny brochure with the title "Human Synergy Institute: Programs For Human Growth."

Michael turned to the page for Program 3. There were pictures of people sitting on the ground looking at one another. Some looked thoughtful, some looked pensive. Others smiled. But they were all clothed. Michael read the blurb under the title: "Program 3, Open Communication, is for people in any kind of relationship who want to unlock the secrets of more profound communication and relationships with others. We teach people to open up to a new way of communication through speaking, gesturing, and gentle touching."

Something didn't seem right to him. He looked in mom's bag again and found a piece of paper. It looked like a confirmation sheet that she'd printed out at home; it was dated ten days earlier. Michael's eyes scrolled down the page. They stopped when he reached the following sentence:

"Congratulations! You have signed up for the Human Synergy Institute's Program 8, Synergistic Sexuality, Session 1. This two-hour program will help you get past the awkward barriers that impede so many relationships, enable you to experience your partner sexually in a new way, and take your relationship to new sexual heights. After you've experienced our introduction to synergistic sexuality in Session 1, we're confident you'll want to return for more sessions."

Holy fuck, Michael thought. She signed them up for a sex workshop. Michael shook his head. He couldn't believe his mom accidentally had signed them up for a class on sex, instead of a communication workshop. On the other hand, he could believe it. His mom was so poor at dealing with paperwork, so poor at reading the fine print, that it wasn't that far-fetched she could somehow misunderstand which program was happening this weekend.

Michael kept reading. Below the description the details of the time and place for the reservation were printed. The word "Rescheduled" appeared in bold next to the following weekend.

Oh mom, Michael thought. She must have scheduled the date and then confirmed the reservation for that date after the program for that date been rescheduled for another date and replaced by this one.

Michael wondered how his mom would react when she found out. She'd be very disappointed, he was sure, because she had been waiting a long time for the communication program and would hate to have spent money and driven all this way only to choose not to participate. For his part, Michael wasn't too disappointed that the program his mom thought she'd signed up for wasn't happening. He hadn't been looking forward to spending two more hours trying to get in touch with his feelings with his mom. Heck, the program his mom signed up for would be more fun than that one. At the very least, Michael could watch naked couples around him get sexual while he and his mom hung out and . . . whatever.

Too bad it wasn't going to happen, Michael thought, because as soon as his mom found out which program she signed up for, she'd cancel.

Michael heard the shower shut off. Mom was getting out. He opened his mouth to call to her to let her know the truth.

"Mmmmaaaa -." He stopped halfway through the word and shut his mouth. An idea popped into his head - a strange idea, but one that enticed him as soon as his mouth closed.

What if he didn't tell his mom about the mix up?

What if, Michael thought, he kept quiet, and he and she went to the program, and only after everyone was seated and the program started did mom discover it was the wrong one? What would she do? He wondered. Would she get up and leave immediately? She might.

But Michael didn't think she would. When Varda had told his mom yesterday that they had to strip their clothes off, she had. She had accepted Varda's instructions and had been willing to see what would happen next. Ever since they had arrived, his mom had let everyone at the resort think they were a couple rather than a mother and son. If mom stayed true to form, she wouldn't say anything. She'd stay seated with Michael, and let the program, and then . . . what?

Michael didn't know. But there was another reason Michael thought she would want to stay. She liked being naked in front of people. She was enjoying this. Michael was certain of it.

Mom wants to show off more, Michael thought. She doesn't want this to end too soon, because she gets off on being naked. In front of the other guests. And in front of me.

Michael's thoughts turned to the image of his mom propped up on the flat rock earlier that morning, spreading her legs and opening herself for his inspection. Michael felt the twinge again. He looked down and, sure enough, his cock lengthened and hardened. Michael became aware, suddenly, almost painfully, that he was terribly horny.

I want that too, Michael thought. Mom wants to show off her naked body, and I want to see it.

Michael decided not to say anything to his mom. He tucked the confirmation slip back in her bag seconds before she left the bathroom. He scurried in to shower before she noticed his erection. When the spray of water hit him, moments later, he was tempted to lather his cock and bring himself to quick relief. But he didn't. He chose not to do anything before the program.

Maybe I can jerk off to mom during the program, he thought. That would be something. As soon as the thought formed, he shook his head and tried to bury it, without success. He finished his shower and got out.

"It's time to go, Michael," his mom said. "I'm really looking forward to this!"

"Me, too, mom," Michael said, smiling.

"I'm so glad!" she said. "It seems like you've had a change of heart. I appreciate that. I think you'll like this as much as I will."

He thought he might like it even more, but he didn't say anything.

They left the cabin and walked to the pavilion room. The pavilion was a circular building that stood at one end of the resort. Stained wood enveloped the exterior, and a pointed terra cotta roof capped it off. Michael and Susanna noticed other nude couples, some holding hands, approach at the same time. They fell in line to enter a set of double doors that had been swung open.

The interior of the pavilion was a spacious round room covered by a clear-stained oak floor, over which had been laid a series of large off-white mats that looked to be made of a soft material a couple inches thick. Large mirrors covered the walls of the room. High on the walls, above the mirrors, frosted window panes let light in from outside. As Susanna and Michael walked through the door they were greeted by Thomas, the man who spoke to them at breakfast. He wore a white robe. He pointed them to a mat against the wall on the far side of the room. Susanna and Michael sat next to each other on the mat and waited for the program to start. Other couples filled the mats all around them. Troy and Lisa sat together closer to the middle of the room. Drew and Kate, the couple they had seen fucking in the woods earlier, sat immediately to their left against the wall. They sat close together, Drew holding his hand on Kate's inner thigh, near her pussy, Michael noticed.

Michael counted fourteen couples. He guessed that their ages ranged from late twenties to early sixties. It was obvious he was the youngest person in the room. Twelve of the couples were male-female, one was two men, and one was two women.

A clap of hands brought everyone to attention. Thomas stood next to an empty mat in the center of the room. A gray-haired woman stood next to him in a matching robe.

"Welcome, everyone," Thomas said to the group. "I'm Thomas, and I'll be leading today's session, along with my partner Adia. I see a few familiar faces, so I know you've been through this before and we're glad to have you back. For the rest of you, I expect you've heard something about the program, but if not I'll give you a rundown. There's only one rule here, and that's to respect yourself, your partner, and everyone else. Because of the intimate nature of our session, we ask that you respect the privacy of others and not talk about what happens or reveal the names of the participants to anyone you know on the outside. What happens here stays here."

Michael glanced at his mom's face as Thomas spoke. She knitted her brow, a look of confusion and uncertainty on her face. As Thomas continued speaking her look of concern grew. Thomas's description of the program didn't fit with mom's idea of it.

"Adia and I will guide you in our session today, which will last about two hours. You are not required to follow us or mimic what we do. You may express your own intimacy and sexuality however you and your partner agree to do so. But I recommend that you take our cue at the beginning, start slowly, and build up, so you build up trust and communication before moving on."

With that, Thomas and Adia removed their robes to reveal their own nude bodies. Michael thought they didn't look bad for old people. They had wrinkles and Adia's breasts sagged, but both were thin and fit. Adia's nipples were an almost cherry hue.

"Go ahead and sit facing your partner," Thomas said. "Sit close enough that you can touch each other with ease."

Michael and Susanna shifted on their mat. Susanna leaned over to Michael and whispered in his ear.

"Something isn't right. This isn't what I expected."

"Let's just play along for now," Michael said.

Susanna nodded as they faced each other. Her eyes darted around the room. Michael kept his eyes on his mom, watching her confusion.

"To start with," Thomas continued, "Put your hands at your side so your body is fully revealed. Take a few minutes to look at your partner. Really LOOK at them. Start at the top, and move your eyes down. Try to notice things you may not have noticed before. Think about what you find beautiful in your partner."

That wasn't difficult for Michael to do, because there was a lot that was beautiful about his mom. He'd been looking at her a lot in the last 24 hours, and felt he'd come to know her body well. But, looking at her even more closely, he noticed things he hadn't before. He tried to put a name to the color of her hair, and he couldn't. It defied naming. It was blond, but it wasn't. As he focused on it carefully, he noticed individual strands of hair, standing up and falling away from her face together in a loose, frizzy cascade. Every strand was different. The more he tried to put words to what he saw the more he failed in the effort.

The next thing Michael noticed was his mother's eyes. They were opened wide and searching his own. Michael saw uncertainty in them. His mom didn't know what was going to happen next, and she didn't know what to do. Michael mouthed the words "It's OK" to her, and she nodded, although he wasn't sure she really felt it was OK

His eyes strayed to her breasts, plump and full, sagging only a little from middle age. The nipples were hard and pink, pointed at him. If his mom's eyes seemed uncertain, almost timid, her nipples looked fearless and eager. Michael felt the sudden desire to take them into his mouth, to kiss them and suck them.

Not yet, he thought.

Michael's eyes moved down his mom's flat belly and thin waist, settling at last on the slit between her legs. A well-trimmed, light patch of hair, matching the hair on her head, lay over it. He couldn't see it as well as he liked because she sat cross legged. He wasn't sure if it was permitted to touch her at this stage of the program, but he did so anyway, putting his hands lightly on her knees. Susanna uncrossed her legs and spread them open in response to Michael's touch.

Michael thought that was much better. Now his mom's pussy was fully open and on display to him, as it had been earlier that morning. It lay before him like a sweet flower in bloom.

You're the flower and I'm the bee, mom, Michael thought. I'm going to explore you and touch you and taste you.

Michael was surprised at the boldness of his thoughts about his mom. A surge of desire swept through him. Until that moment, Michael's arousal had been suppressed by the sheer strangeness of the weekend. But it was held down no longer. Michael quickly looked up and around him, at the other couples, staring at each other's body parts.

This is just a bunch of horny people who want to get it on with each other in front of other people, he thought. We're not learning about communication. We're a bunch of exhibitionists and voyeurs getting our rocks off doing this in a group and being told it's OK because we're learning something about intimacy or whatever.

Michael looked at his mom, who was staring at his cock, hard and pointed at her, its tip less than two feet from the open lips of her pussy. Thinking about how close they were made him harder still. Michael was struck by how passive his mom looked. She wasn't passive by nature. On the contrary, in most situations his mom was confident and assertive. But now she seemed subdued and uncertain. It was obvious she realized that this program was not what she expected and that she didn't know what to do about it.

Michael's thoughts were interrupted by Thomas, speaking to the group again.

"You've spent several minutes using the sense of sight. Hopefully, you've seen something about your partner that maybe you haven't seen before. The next step is the sense of touch. One of you will take your hand and touch your partner on a part of their body. Feel their skin like it's the first time you've ever felt it. Think about how it feels on your fingers. Imagine the energy flowing between your fingers and their skin."

Michael and Susanna stared at each other in response to his instruction, neither one moving for a moment. Then Susanna raised a hand and touched Michael's cheek. She moved her fingers in a small circle over his skin. Michael was surprised at the charge he felt from her touch, at the electricity that passed from her finger tips to his face. He had never experienced such a powerful, erotic feeling from such a simple, seemingly non-sexual gesture. His mom didn't say anything, but they stared at each other as she touched him. All Michael could think about was the touch of her fingers on his face and the hardness of his cock, pointed straight at his mother. He was keenly aware that after almost 24 hours of constant visual stimulation he hadn't come.

A few minutes passed, and Thomas spoke again.

"OK," he said. "Now it's time for your partner to reciprocate. Touch your partner, but touch them somewhere different from where they touched you. Wherever you touch them, focus on how it feels to your touch. Imagine your energy flowing from your finger to your partner's skin, and back again."

Michael wanted to roll his eyes. Thomas's words sounded like gobbledygook to him. He knew how he wanted to touch his mom and he didn't need a lot of high-minded instruction about flowing energy.

He put his finger to his mom's upper lip. Susanna's eyes widened, as though she was surprised at the boldness of her son's touch. Michael's face was still, betraying no emotion. The tip of his forefinger traced the length of her upper lip, and then it swept down, tracing the fullness of the lower lip. Michael never had really paid attention to his mom's lips before, but he paid attention to them now - their softness, their rosy hue, the way they glistened in the ambient light of the room. He noticed his mom's stillness as his finger swept over her, her submission to the exploration of his finger. His mom's tentativeness emboldened him.

With his finger at his mother's mouth, Michael glanced at the couples around him. They were touching each other in similar ways, hands pressed to faces or against each other, and most of the couples seemed focused on each other. He caught a few faces, though, sneaking glances at what others were doing, as he did. He turned back to his mom and decided to take things a step further.

Michael moved his finger between his mother's lips, and he pressed it forward. Susanna's lips gave way, and Michael's finger pushed forward into her mouth. He pushed until it was all the way in. His mom couldn't say anything, and she stared back at Michael with wide, wondering eyes. Michael enjoyed the warmth and wetness of his mother's mouth on his finger. He moved it around, against the thick swirl of her tongue.

He pulled it out, almost all the way, until just the tip of his finger remained between her lips, and then he pushed his finger back, with more force than before. Susanna tried to say something, but she couldn't with Michael's finger in her mouth. Michael then began pumping his finger in and out of his mother's mouth in a slow sensuous rhythm. Susanna's eyes grew wider still.

In the background, Michael heard Thomas offering occasional instructions or words of encouragement, but Michael was so intent on his play with his mother that he barely heard him.

"Everyone's doing great," Thomas said. "Feel the sensual energy around you and your partner, and let it flow through your body to theirs. Let the energy connect you. "

Michael didn't know anything about flowing energy, but he liked the feeling of fucking his mother's mouth with his finger. That's how it felt: he was fucking her. Michael was surprised at his own boldness and assertiveness. He liked it. He knew his mother knew he liked it too, because his cock stood out in a straight arrow pointed at her, the full purplish head no more than a foot from the slit of her pussy.

If his mother didn't like the mouth-fucking she was getting, she didn't show it. She sat passively before him, her mouth accepting every thrust of his finger. Then she wasn't passive. Michael felt the pressure of his mom's mouth on his finger as she sucked on it. He saw her cheeks compress. He lost track of how long they kept up the rhythm of his finger in her mouth.

Thomas spoke again.

"That's right. Feel the flow. Go with the flow. Now I want everyone to take the next step, which is to channel your sensual energy through your lips. Feel the softness of your own lips. Concentrate your energy there. And then, when you're ready, kiss your partner on a part of their body. Caress it with your lips and your mouth. Use your tongue. Share your loving, sensual energy with your partner by using your lips and mouth."

It was his mom's turn, and Michael wondered what she would do. He glanced around the room again. Thomas's talk about energy sounded like a lot of new age nonsense to Michael, but there was no doubt that the air was thick with sensuality. People were losing inhibitions, getting closer, embracing each other. Several couples were pressing their lips together. One woman was sucking on her partner's toe. Troy sucked on Lisa's right breast.

Susanna leaned close to Michael.

"Michael, I'm sorry, this is not at all what I expected," she whispered. "I'm not sure what to do."

"Mom, like he said, just go with the flow," he whispered back. "Nobody here knows who we are. If we get up and leave, we'll disturb everyone. Let's just go along for now. You've kissed me before. Find some place to kiss me and just go along. Do whatever is comfortable."

Since Michael and Susanna sat on the far side of the room from the door, they would have to weave their way past a roomful of writhing, naked bodies if they wanted to leave. It would look awkward, and it would upset the mood of the room. Plus, it would be difficult to explain. The desire to avoid making a scene seemed to persuade Susanna.

"I guess you're right," she said. "It would look weird if we suddenly left."

Michael felt more comfortable by the moment, except that his cock felt like it was going to burst. He wondered what his mom would do. He figured she'd kiss him on the cheek, but she didn't. Instead, she leaned close to him, then turned her face to his neck, where it met his shoulder. Her lips tickled as they touched his skin. It wasn't much of a kiss at first, just the faintest brush of her skin against his. But it was electric. No doubt about it, Michael felt the energy passing between his mom's lips and his neck. He felt her lips give him a succession of soft kisses - so many he lost count. He'd never felt anything like it. He felt, too, that his mom finally was giving in to the moment, going with the flow, and letting her own sensual energy wander and explore the connection with her son. Michael could scarcely believe what was happening. But he was caught up in it too, and he felt his desire surging inside him, along with the need that was pent up and nearly bursting behind his hard cock.

He put a hand behind his mom's head, running his fingers through her thick hair while also pressing gently against her, pushing her lips harder against his neck. Susanna didn't resist. She kept kissing her son.

Michael looked around the room. The air of soft sensuality was giving way to outright sexuality. He saw a woman planting light butterfly kisses on the head of her partner's penis, which was erect, but not, Michael noted with satisfaction, as long or as thick as his own. As his mom kept kissing him, Michael used his other hand to draw his mom closer to him, until his cock head was no more than inches from her open pussy. Michael imagined he could feel the heat emanating from it and wrapping itself around his member.

In the background, Thomas gave further words of encouragement and instruction, but Michael could barely concentrate on them, and they came more infrequently, because Thomas himself was busy having his chest and nipples kissed by his partner Adia. Michael vaguely heard Thomas saying something about taking turns and progressions and surges of energy, but it didn't seem like the room needed his direction any further. The pattern had been established, and the couples were moving together in a group rhythm. After a while everyone seemed to understand when it was time to move on to the next act.

Susanna lifted her head away from Michael's neck, but not before giving him a playful nibble. Michael wondered if it would leave a mark; he hoped it would. The idea of his naked mom giving him a hickey turned him on. Susanna sat up straight again looking her son in the eyes. Neither was sure of the next step. It was Michael's turn to kiss her.

Michael decided to do the obvious. He put a hand to his mother's cheek and drew her to him, and he pressed his lips against hers. Startled, Susanna began to pull away, but Michael didn't let her. He put his other hand behind her head and held them together, fixed at the lips. Her mouth was closed, at first, but his mouth was firm and insistent on hers, until it opened up.

"Michael -" she started to say until more kisses stopped her.

"Shhh, Mom," he whispered. "Go with the flow." Michael was aware that his whispering hadn't been as quiet as before, and he wondered if someone nearby might have heard him say "mom." He was too busy kissing her to look up and find out.

Susanna appeared, finally, to be going more with the flow. The tenseness in her body slackened and she relaxed her head in her son's firm hands. He peppered her mouth with soft, rapid kisses, and then followed them with a harder, more urgent kiss, pressing his tongue into her, past lips and teeth that at first were resistant but gave way eventually to his desire.

The room now was filled with the sounds of love-making: moans and soft cries, sucking and slurping noises, the slapping of bodies against each other. Over the hum of sexuality Thomas's voice came again, although it sounded distant.

"Everyone's doing great. Feel that sexual energy. Let it flow. You are free now to go at your own pace and rhythm. Feel free to touch each other and experience each other's sexuality at your own pace. You'll feel the synergy between you."

Michael was feeling it now, for certain. He was mashing his lips against his mother's, his tongue working against hers. He put a hand on her neck and felt the rapid beat of her heart. She was utterly passive now, letting her son kiss her as he wished. He'd never known his mom to be so submissive, and it excited him to his core. He couldn't kiss her deeply enough or fast enough. He couldn't get enough of her. They kissed like that for minutes more, until that indefinable but certain feeling came over the room that it was time to move on.

When they pulled back from each other, Michael saw his mom trembling, her eyes watery and uncertain. Michael could tell she didn't know what to do. Michael didn't either. He looked around the room, and everywhere the level of sexual activity had risen. Legs were spread wide, cocks were being rubbed and sucked, pussies were being licked and fingered. Michael decided that even though it was his mom's turn he'd take the initiative for the next step to take the responsibility away from his mom. He was winging it, but he had an idea. He leaned close to her ear.

"Turn toward the wall."

He guided her shoulders as he spoke, and Susanna followed the direction of his hands. She turned toward the wall, facing a mirror that rose from the floor. Michael and Susanna saw the reflections of their nude bodies. Somehow it aroused Michael even more. It was like watching himself in a pornographic film. When Susanna finally faced the mirror directly, Michael scooted behind her, until his chest was pressed against her from behind and his legs were splayed out to the side of hers.

Michael pressed his butt forward along the floor until his cock head met his mother's back. She opened her mouth in surprise, and Michael could see and hear her stifle a cry. As he moved forward further the head of his cock traced an upward line against her until its full, hard length was at her back. Susanna breathed heavily. Michael didn't wait. He moved his hands around his mother until they rested on her thighs. Then he pulled them back, splayed wide, opening up his mom's pussy fully to his view. Wetness glistened between lips that were not fully closed. Michael's hands went to Susanna's belly, and then moved up.

"Michael -" she started to say.

"Mom, it's OK," Michael said. "Just relax and go with the flow, like he said. It's OK, mom." He emphasized the last word, loud enough that he thought someone might hear. He could tell his mom wondered the same thing, because she looked to both sides of her, as Michael did. Everyone appeared to be too busy with their own activity to notice or hear anything.

Michael felt surprised at his own boldness and assertiveness. He knew why. His arousal was overpowering. He felt an overwhelming need to see and touch and experience his mom. He had to keep moving things forward. He had to take the next step.

"Mom, look in the mirror. Look at yourself."

Michael sat directly behind his mom but with his head to the side, over her shoulder. Susanna stopped glancing at her neighbors and looked Michael in the eye.

"Don't look at me, mom. Look at your body. Look at your breasts."

As he spoke, he cupped the underside of each full breast and squeezed. Susanna gasped.

"Michael, I think this is going too -"

"Relax," he said, cutting her off. "Relax and feel the energy, mom. You wanted to get something out of this program. Let's get something out of it. It's not what you thought it would be, but we can still get something out of it."

His hands squeezed and kneaded her full breasts.

"Mom, do you like being naked?" Michael whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like this morning, on our hike, sitting on the rock, did you like being naked in front of me? Did you like showing yourself off?"

It was hard to carry on a conversation in whispers, with the growing din of lovemaking around them, so Michael put his mouth directly to Susanna's ear.

"I wasn't showing off. I was trying to make a point," she said.

"I know you were, mom. But you liked it didn't you?"

"Michael, I don't think that's -"

"Mom," Michael said, a little more loudly than before. "You've said yourself this weekend it's important to be candid, to be honest. You said we should open up. So open up. Tell me. I want to know the truth and I want you to say it. You liked it? You like it now, don't you?"

Michael could tell that his mother was struggling. She didn't say anything.

"Come on, mom. Tell me. You like being naked for me. Say it to me."

Susanna's mouth opened, and it closed. It opened and closed again. She struggled to say anything.

"Say it, mom," Michael said. "Say you like to be naked in front of me."

"I like it," Susanna said at last.

"I knew it," Michael said. "And you like it now, being naked in the mirror so I can see you? You like that? Say it, mom."

"I . . . I like it," Susanna said.

"Then you'll like this, won't you mom," Michael said, as he took her nipples between his fingers and rubbed his fingers around them. "You'll like the feeling of my fingers on you and knowing that you're showing off your tits and that I'm grabbing them and feeling them. You like that too, mom? Tell me."

Michael saw his mother close her eyes in the mirror and exhale as his fingers squeezed her hard nipples.

"Tell me," he said.

"Yes," she said. "Yes. I like it."

Her words emboldened him, and Michael squeezed and caressed his mother's breasts with more vigor.

"Open your eyes, mom," he said. "Look what I'm doing."

Susanna opened her eyes and looked into the mirror as her son grabbed and kneaded and massaged her breasts. She moaned.

"I like that, mom. Grabbing your breasts. Squeezing them. I like pinching your nipples." Michael took one between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it hard. Susanna let out a high-pitched squeak.

Michael was in a frenzy now. Any hesitation he'd felt before was gone. His hands were on his mom's body and it was all he could think about. He wanted her body. He needed her body. He knew what his hands had to do next. Michael saw Susanna's head thrown back, eyes closed, soft sounds escaping her lips.

"Open your eyes, mom," he said. "Look at us."

Susanna opened her eyes and stared back into the mirror, at her son's hands on her breasts. The hands moved down, slowly over her belly, caressing it as they descended. Michael's left hand stopped at her thigh, pushing it back. His right hand kept going. It stopped when his fingers reached the hood of her clit.

"Michael, what are you doing?" Susanna whispered.

"I'm doing what I want to do, mom," he said. "What I need to do." His finger moved over the top of her clit and began tracing small, quick circles over it. Susanna moaned.

"Michael, you can't do that," she said. "You have to stop." But she pushed her pelvis forward to increase the pressure of his finger on her clit hood.

"I'm not going to stop, mom," Michael said. "You don't really want me to. You like this. Admit it. Admit it."

Susanna didn't say anything for a while, but words escaped her lips at last in a quiet rush.

"It does feel good," she said, her head thrown back.

"Look back at yourself in the mirror, mom," Michael said. Susanna did. With two fingers Michael spread his mother's lips open so both he and she could see her open pussy in the mirror.

"Oh, Michael," she said.

"I'm spreading you open, mom," he said. "Look at yourself. You've been showing yourself off and spreading open ever since we got here. You liked doing that this morning, didn't you? You liked spreading yourself open for me?"

"Michael," she said. "I was trying to make a point."

"I know," Michael said. "But that wasn't all of it, was it? You wanted to show off. It turned you on, didn't it? Tell me, mom. Tell me it turned you on."

"It turned me on," she said.

Michael's middle finger descended below her clit, into her wetness. He pushed it in. Her pussy was tight and deep, but he kept pushing. He had to hold his hand at just the right angle, so his finger could press all the way into her. He heard his mom sighing and moaning more. When his finger was all the way in, he curved it up until he felt what he was seeking - a soft spongy mass. While his middle finger pushed against it his thumb pressed down on her clit. Susanna whimpered.

"That's your G-spot, isn't it, mom?" he asked.

"Oh, oh, oh," she said, breaths coming out fast and high-pitched. "Yes. You found it. That feels so good."

Susanna's body had gone slack in Michael's arms. He knew at that point he had her - that she would do whatever he wanted her to do. He wanted more. But for a moment he wanted to enjoy the sensation of his finger delving deeply into her wet cunt. She grew wetter with every moment. His finger moved around, exploring and enjoying her depths.

Michael's eyes savored the sight of his mother's pussy filled by his finger. He liked the way the rocking of his finger mashed and moved her pussy lips in a steady rhythm. He looked at his mother's face and he liked the way her eyes were closed and her mouth was open and soft feral sounds came out of it at an irregular pace. He kept a steady speed with his finger, fucking his mother's pussy with it, in and out, in and out.

Michael looked in the mirror at the people around him. Troy lay back on his mat, Lisa sucking his cock, but Troy's eyes were focused on the mirror, staring at Michael's mom's pussy. Michael liked that. He was consumed by the idea of his mom showing off. While his finger continued pushing in and out of her, his free hand pushed his mom's thigh back so Troy could get a better view. Susanna's eyes snapped open at the touch of his hand, focusing on her son. Michael glanced from his mom to Troy to let his mom see what he'd done. Susanna's eyes widened when she realized Michael was exposing the finger-fucking of her pussy to someone's view. But she did nothing to close her legs. She let Troy look.

Michael pushed his finger in and out of his mother's pussy. It got wetter and wetter, until he felt her wetness dripping and spreading over his hand. Michael loved the feel of her pussy on his finger, but he needed more.

He withdrew his finger, and he saw his mom look at him with surprise. Michael didn't say anything. He grabbed his mom by the waist with his hands, and he moved her up and back while he inclined his body half way to the floor. In the mirror, his hard, straight cock popped into view between Susanna's thighs. That's where Michael wanted it. Susanna's pussy was open and wet, showing the signs of being freshly fucked by Michael's finger. Michael's tall, hard cock bobbed and knocked against her inner thighs and against the lips of her pussy.

"Michael," Susanna said. "We need to stop. We can't do this."

"Sure, we can . . . mom," Michael said, saying the word louder than before. "I just fucked your pussy with my finger. You liked it. I'm going to fuck you with my cock now."

"We can't do that," she said, her voice weak and uncertain.

"We can and we will," Michael said. He took a hand off his mom's waist and brought it to his cock, long and hard, its bulbous head almost bursting.

Susanna didn't say anything. Her son controlled her body now, and she sat passive in his lap and arms awaiting his direction. Michael didn't wait longer. He grabbed his cock in his hand and pressed it back against his mother's pussy. He slapped it against her clit, several times. Then he moved the head up and down against her wet furrow, watching her lips mashed and spread to the side of it.

Oh my God this feels good, he thought. His cock was pushed up against his mother's pussy. It wasn't quite in it, but it was pressed up against it, the lips framing and cupping its hard length.

He looked at Troy and Troy still was staring at the space between Susanna's open legs. He seemed mesmerized by it, even though his girlfriend Lisa was stroking and sucking him with great energy.

"You need to say it, mom," Michael said.

"What . . . what you do you mean?" Susanna asked. Her words came out punctuated by deep fast breaths. Michael felt her pulse beat furiously.

"You know what, mom," Michael said. "You know what I need to do next. I need my cock inside you. But I want you to say it. Say it, mom."

"Oh, Michael," she said, her body undulating, uncontrolled and fighting her words. "I can't do it."

"Yes, you can," Michael said. "Say it." His hand pushed his cock against his mom's pussy harder, and he moved the head of it against his mother's clit in insistent circles.

"Oh," she said.

"Say it, mom," he said. "Say it."

For a full minute she said nothing. Her body rose and fell against her son, and the furrow of her sex encased and rubbed against the hard, young cock of her son. She tried to stop moaning but she couldn't.

"Say it, mom," Michael said. He kept rubbing his cock, harder than he ever remembered it being, against her.

"Yes," she said.

"Yes what, mom?" he asked. "Tell me."

"Do it," she said.

"Do what, mom?" Michael asked again, his voice louder. He looked to Troy and Troy's eyes were open with amazement. Michael could tell Troy had heard him.

"Put it in," she said.

"No, mom," Michael said. "Say it. Say it right. Say what you want me to do. Say what you want your son to do to you."

She rose and breathed with two more undulations and relented.

"Fuck me, Michael," she said. "Fuck me."

"Gladly, mom," Michael said. With his hand he directed the bulb head into his mother. For a moment in the mirror he observed the pink, wet inside of her pussy, before his cock filled it. He pushed up and in. He pulled her down onto him with his other hand. He was surprised at how fast it went. Her wetness helped. It only took a second for the full length of his cock to disappear into his mother's cunt.

"Now look at it, mom," he said.

After a second or two her eyes opened, and Michael saw them turn to the junction between his cock and her pussy. Her eyes widened and turned glassy, and her mouth hung open. Her pussy lips held fast to the width of his cock, buried almost entirely inside her.

Michael pushed his bottom off the floor and pulled his mom's body down onto his body to fill her more deeply. Susanna responded. She lifted off him, revealing the long and hard length of his cock slicked by her juices. Then she pushed down, filling herself once more.

They took up a steady, slow rhythm, both watching themselves fucking each other in the mirror. The sight of his mom's pussy on his cock was nearly as exquisite as the feel of it. Michael couldn't believe how good it felt - better than anything he'd ever experienced. And there were no words to describe the delicious sight of her pussy rising and falling on his cock.

I'm fucking my mom! Michael thought. He was, but he could barely believe it.

Michael looked in the mirror at the naked, writhing bodies around him. Every couple was engaged in intimacy of some kind or another, but none were fucking as brazenly as Michael and his mom. Lisa was sucking hard and fast on Troy's thin, hard cock, but Troy was watching Michael and Susanna in the mirror. Michael liked that. He wanted people seeing him fucking his mother. He didn't know what had come over him, but he suddenly felt consumed by the need to have as many people as possible seeing his cock in his mother.

"Mom," said Michael, quietly.

"Michael," said Susanna, whispering in reply.

"Mom," said Michael, louder, pushing inside her.

"Oh, Michael, yes," said Susanna, still whispering, but gasping and gulping air, too.

"I love fucking you, MOM," Michael said, emphasizing the last word.

In the mirror, Michael saw Troy's eyes widen and his jaw drop. He'd heard. The secret was out. Troy knew Susanna and Michael were mother and son. He looked at Michael in the mirror, eyes wide, seeking confirmation.

Michael nodded with a thin smile. He wanted Troy to know. He wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to see him fucking his hot mother. He'd crossed a crazy line, and he didn't care anymore what anyone knew or what anyone thought.

"Oh, mom, I love fucking you!" he yelled.

Michael looked up and out at the room, watching heads swivel toward them. Faces intent on intimacy with their partners now turned toward Michael and Susanna. Mouths opened wide. Michael smirked as he kept fucking his mom. He'd got their attention. His mom didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were cast down, intent on the sight of her son's hard cock pumping in and out of her. Michael saw his mom's face mesmerized by their movement in the mirror.

Now that he had the room's intention, Michael decided to take another step. With his mom still rising and falling on him, he swiveled his butt on the mat, moving his mom's body around with strong hands. When he was done, they faced the room, legs spread, giving everyone in the room a show. All around them nude bodies writhed and fucked each other, but some had stopped moving, and Michael quickly counted about half the faces turned toward his mother and himself.

"Michael -"

"What is it, mom?" he asked, loudly enough for others to hear.

"They're looking at us," she whispered, leaning her head back and turning her lips to his ear.

"They are," he said.

"We shouldn't do this."

"You could stop," he said. "You haven't."

His mom's lithe body rocked against his as fast as before. When she rose above him Michael knew his cock was exposed and that the entire room could see the lewd display of the union of mother and son. He knew the men were looking at his mother's pussy while his cock pumped away at it. He liked that. Inside his breast some deep animal force rose, fierce and determined. He'd never felt this way - for his mother or for any woman. But he felt it now, and its full force was directed at the beautiful woman he was fucking before a roomful of people: his mother.

He loved the feeling of his mom rising and falling on him, but he wanted more. He needed more. He burned with unsatiated need, even as he savored the snug grip of his mom's pussy on his cock.

Without warning to his mom, he grabbed her hips suddenly and lifted her off his cock, which left her pussy with an audible plop and bobbed underneath her emptied and open cunt.

"Michael, what are you doing?" she asked, turning to him.

"Turn around," he said, with a low growl in his voice. Michael was startled at himself. He'd never been this way before. He turned his mom around, back to the room. Then he pushed her back, against her chest, not roughly, but not too gently, either. She gave way and lay back against the floor.

"Michael, what -." She didn't finish.

"Let me do this, mom," Michael said. "I know what I want." He looked into his mom's eyes, at the surprise and wonder they revealed. She was seeing it too, he could tell: the deep bestial hunger in her son's face, hunger for her. He could tell she craved it, too.

When she lay fully back on the floor mat, Michael grabbed her hips and lifted them. His arm muscles tensed. He scanned the room. It was quieter now, most of the people in the room forgetting sex with their own partners and captivated by the spectacle of Michael and his mom. Michael's muscles rippled as he lifted his mother's ass off the map. It suddenly occurred to Michael that he and his mom were also the best-looking couple in the room. He was going to give everyone in the room a show.

When his mom's ass was completely off the mat, Michael grabbed her thighs, spread them open, and pushed them back and away from him. His mom's legs careened through the air, back, back, back, until her feet hit the mat, far apart, behind her head. His mom stared into his face, her mouth a big, silent "O." With her legs so far apart, her pussy was opened wide. Michael peered into its pink depths. The interior glistened in the ambient light filtered through the frosted windows. With one hand Michael steadied his mom's ass suspended a foot or more over the mat. With the other he peeled her lips back farther, to give everyone a good view. He snuck a glance at his mom, who seemed to be struck silent and immobile by her son's boldness, and then he glanced at the roomful of people silent and awestruck at what they were witnessing.

Michael edged along the mat on his knees toward his mom, between her widespread legs. His cock stood straight out and bobbed over the gaping flower of her pussy. He moved his hand from her pussy to his cock and held its pinkish-purple swollen head toward her. He pushed, entering quickly. He pushed again, and in a moment, he was inside her all the way.

The rush of fucking his mom was exquisite, but it wasn't enough. Michael wanted others to see it. When he pulled out, he did almost all the way, until only the tip of his cock was between her lips. He wanted everyone in the room to see them, joined, furiously fucking each other, mother and son. His hands gripped his mom's thighs tightly, to hold her in place and expose her. His cock pumped in and out of her, urgently. A sudden gush of wetness came forth, splashing his thighs.

"Mom," he grunted, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. His cock pumped into her, never stopping, never slowing.

"Michael," Susanna said, her voice quieter than Michael's. Her body undulated against his in response to his furious fucking of her.

A howling storm of desire rose up through Michael's breast, like nothing he'd ever felt before. He did not know what had come over him. Only a day before he had been timid and fearful at the idea of being naked in front of people. Now, only 24 hours later, he wanted everyone in the room watching his stiff, throbbing cock pumping into his spread-open mother. He didn't understand it. But he didn't have to. He was consumed by the need to fuck his mom and have everyone around them see him doing it.

Michael looked at his mom's face, wondering what she was thinking. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were parted, and they let out a soft, high-pitched squeal with every thrust of his cock into her. Her pussy, and all the pale skin around it, was soaked with her wetness. Michael saw it running down her extended legs and dripping off her. Drops from his mom fell onto the mat below. He almost didn't recognize the wild creature under him as his mother. She was something else now, submitting to his fast, hard fucking of her.

Without letting up on her, he raised his eyes to scan the room around him. Everyone now was looking at them, absorbed by their incestuous coupling. Michael stared at Thomas. Thomas wasn't looking at Michael. His eyes were turned down, on Susanna's open sex being fucked and filled. His mouth was agape.

Michael decided to take their performance to its last act. He looked down again, eyes on his mother, her breasts bobbing and heaving every which way, her body lacquered from sweat and the fluid gushing from her open pussy. Her hands were thrown back, over her head, and her eyes were closed. But then they opened, and Michael and his mom held their eyes on each other's as they kept fucking.

With a deep growl Michael pulled his cock almost all the way out and pushed in deeper and harder. Susanna let out a breathy shriek and called his name.

"Michael!" she cried. "Michael. Oh god. Oh god." Her back-stretched legs rocked and quivered under her son's firm hands.

Michael forgot about their audience and concentrated all his energy on his mother's splayed-open pussy. He wanted to pull out of her as far as possible with each upstroke without pulling out altogether, and it took all his concentration. He sought that delicious feel of her lips on his cockhead, over and over, and the satisfaction of it diving down deep, deep, deep into the center of her wetness and womanhood. His surroundings became a blur. No reality existed other than their fucking.

"I'm going to give it you, mom," he called, loudly, so everyone could hear. "Do you want it?"

"Oh, Michael, Michael."

"Do you want it, mom? Do you want it? Say it."

"Oh, oh," she said, the sound of her voice muted by her fast, shallow breathing. "I, I -"

"Say it, mom. Say it so everyone can hear."

Their fucking grew louder as their bodies, wetter with every minute, slapped together hard.

"I want it."

"What do you want, mom?" Michael kept repeating the word, so she would hear, and everyone would hear.

He looked at her face, her eyes open and on his, desire and wonder on her face, long hair strewn back against the mat. Her mouth opened and he could tell she was trying to say something and struggling to get the words out. At last the words came over her labored breathing.

"Make me come!" she cried.

"You got it, mom."

Michael moved his hands up her thighs, closer to her hips, and pulled her hard toward him with every stroke into her. He sped up his pace, thrusting into her harder and faster than before.

Susanna's eyes rolled back, and her mouth let out strange animal sounds, rising in pitch and volume to a crescendo. Michael, while keeping up the pace of his fucking her, took one hand away from her thigh. He pressed a palm to her clit and moved it in circles. She cried out, and then he felt her come.

Her body spasmed from side to side and she put a hand over her face. Her legs shook and her feet rose from the mat and splayed out above her head. But Michael didn't stop. He was close too. After a few more deep thrusts of his cock into her, he was ready. He felt the welling up inside him. Ecstasy spread from his loins and engulfed him. At the last minute he pulled his cock out of his mom, grabbed it, and pointed the tip of it at her chest.

His cock erupted, a thick white geyser of cum spraying her belly and chest. It fell heavily on her skin, creamy and translucent, covering her, frosting her. Michael kneeled, transfixed over the sight of his mom on the mat beneath him. He milked his cock, hand squeezing the thick purply bulb further until every drop had fallen onto her. Her body, wet with her cum and his cum and their mixed sweat, shone in the bright afternoon light coming through the windows. Her eyes were closed. Her body kept twitching, in paroxysms of diminishing intensity.

In another minute, Michael's mom lay in repose under him, legs open and oblivious to her surroundings. Her breath slowed, but soft, high-pitched moans still escaped her lips. It was the only sound in the room. The nude couples around them sat or lay silent, watching Michael and his mom.

After a time - Michael didn't know how long it was, but it felt like an eternity - Thomas spoke, breaking the tomb-like silence.

"Um, well . . . it looks like time's ended for our session today. I, uh, uh . . . I hope you all feel you've learned something about intimacy."

Thomas's voice interrupted Susanna's reverie, and she opened her eyes and gazed at her son. Her eyes were glassy, filled with wonder, desire, and uncertainty. Drops of cum flecked her chin and cheeks.

Michael looked around the room. Some people were still looking at Michael and his mother. Other couples were looking at one another, uncertain about whether to leave or whether to keep watching. Thomas, the leader, didn't seem to know what to do. Michael decided it was time to leave.

He stood up and offered his hand to his mother.

"Let's go, mom."

"OK," she said, voice barely audible. She took his hand and he pulled her up. Michael put his arm around Susanna's waist and escorted her to the door. The crowd parted for them. Michael caught Troy's gaze, and Troy mouthed the words, "Holy fuck."

Michael and Susanna stepped outside the pavilion into the afternoon sun. Michael saw his mom's cum-covered body gleam in the afternoon light. His cum, mixed with hers, trickled down her chest as they walked back to their room. His mom wobbled in his arms, her legs unsteady. Michael held on to her all the way to the room. Susanna said nothing on the way, but she shook her head a few times. Once inside the room he guided her to the shower. He let her take it by herself. When she was finished, he hurried into the shower to wash himself off. Three minutes later he turned off the shower head and walked out of the bathroom. His mom sat on the bed with a towel around her. She stared at him.

"What just happened, Michael?"

"Well," he said, "I think we just finished Session 1 of the Human Synergy Institute's program on synergistic sexuality."

His mom wasn't completely tracking. She shook her head.

"No, I mean—." She paused. "Michael . . . we just had sex."

"We did," he said.

"In front of people," she said.

"We did that, too," he said.

"How . . . what . . .." She tried to continue her thought but couldn't.

"Mom," Michael said. "How about if we talk about it in the car. Let's go home."

It took her a few seconds before she nodded. They gathered their few things and left the room. Walking back to the office, Susanna kept her head down and avoided looking at anyone. But Michael looked, into the eyes of everyone who glanced his way. He didn't know why, but he felt emboldened and surer of himself than he could remember feeling in a long time.

In another minute they were in the locker room. They retrieved their clothes and dressed quickly. This time, Michael watched his mom dress. After the previous 24 hours it seemed strange to see her body covered. When they were done, they walked together, hand in hand, to the front desk. Mimi stood behind it.

"Hello, Ms. Penley," she said. "Are you checking out? You're early. I hope your time at Anders was enjoyable and productive."

"Yes," Susanna said, her voice still quiet. "Very, um, enjoyable. And educational."

Mimi stared at a computer screen and her fingers flew over a keyboard.

"All set to go," she said, with a wide smile. "We hope you come back soon!"

"We'll see," said Susanna, after a beat.

Two minutes later, in the car, Susanna paused before turning on the ignition.

"Michael," she said. "We had sex this afternoon. In front of a lot of people. They know you're my son. They know what we did."

Michael admitted to himself that what happened was pretty fucking weird. He could barely believe it was real. But he could tell his mom was on edge about it and he didn't want to reveal his own feelings.

"Yeah, we had sex," he said, his voice even. "We fucked."

Susanna winced at his use of the word.

"What do you think about that?" she asked.

"Mom, what do you think about it?" he asked. "I liked fucking you. I really liked it. I loved it. But what do you think? You planned this trip. It turned out kind of different from what we expected, but you're the one who got us here. You and I fucked. What do you think about that?"

She didn't answer right away. She stared ahead, through the windshield toward the tan hills, hands gripping the steering wheel.

"I liked it," she said at last. "I liked the way you fucked me."

"Good," he said. "Let's go home now. We'll talk about it later."

Susanna stepped on the gas and started driving. They heard the crunch of gravel again until the car regained the highway.

Michael turned to his mom as she drove away from Anders Hot Springs.

"Connor was right," he mumbled.

"What?" Susanna asked.

Michael smiled and looked his mom in the face.

"You've got it going on, mom."

"What does that mean?" she asked, without looking at him. She had to keep her eyes on the road because it was narrow and twisty as they left the hot springs resort behind them.

Michael didn't say anything. He couldn't explain it. But he knew that he'd show her when they got home..

189 Late Night on the Loveseat with Mom

SimonDoom

The mid-summer heatwave enveloped the city for seven days straight. It drove everyone a little crazy. Evening brought some relief, but even as night fell the heat lingered, hours past sunset. With heat so constant and so intense, everything loosened up: clothes, morals, and passions that otherwise would have stayed buried deep.

Maddy Ryerson had long since tired of the heat. It wore her down, a little more each day. She poured herself a glass of chilled white wine and walked with it to the living room. It was 10 p.m. in the Ryerson house, and the family's favorite T.V. show was about to begin.

Her husband, Carl, already lay comfortably grooved into his favorite chair, not far from the large-screen television. He had taken his seat to watch T.V. two hours earlier, and he hadn't moved the whole time except to grab beers from the kitchen. He was nursing his fifth can. His day at work had been long and stressful, and the beers had done a lot to dull the edges off his frayed temper.

Maddy saw her 19-year-old son, Kyle, sit on the love seat to the left of and behind Carl's chair. Kyle, a sophomore in college, lived away from his parents during the school year, but he had chosen to stay in in his old room for the summer, and he worked long hours for a local construction firm. Kyle kicked his shoes off and put his feet up on the low table in front of the love seat.

Maddy noticed how much the living room had cooled. Carl had set the thermostat to a low temperature, and the air conditioner was blasting cold air into the house, giving everyone welcome relief from the summer heat. Earlier in the day, mindful of the scorching day-time temperature, Maddy had put on a light, cotton, sleeveless sundress with buttons down the front. Now, at 10 p.m., it was cooler, even a little chilly, and goosebumps popped up on Maddy's exposed legs and arms.

As she swung around the love seat to sit down, Maddy noticed both Kyle and Carl in her line of sight. Kyle looked a lot like his dad, with short, blond hair and a well-defined, strong-featured face. He was taller than his father, though, and while his father had gone soft in middle-age, Kyle kept his body fit and free of fat through steady exercise and the daily rigors of his job.

Maddy's brow furrowed at the sight of her husband's figure. She wished he took better care of himself. Maddy, unlike Carl, took excellent care of herself. Although she was nearing 40, Maddy

retained the fresh-scrubbed, girl-next-door looks of her youth. The short dress, snug and hitting mid-thigh, did little to conceal Maddy's voluptuous curves. Long, light-brown hair cascaded over her bare neck and shoulders.

She looked critically with pale blue eyes at the placement of her son's feet.

"Kyle, take your feet off the table," she said.

Kyle removed his feet from the table with the slowness and reluctance of a teen.

"Sorry, mom," he said.

Maddy was about to sit down at the other end of the love seat when Carl spoke.

"Hey, Maddy," Carl said, his voice slurring just a trace from the beer, "You might not want to sit there. I spilled a beer on that end of the love seat. I tried to clean it up with a wet towel but it's all wet on that end."

"Oh!" said Maddy. She leaned over and sniffed the seat cushion. It didn't smell like beer, so Carl must have succeeded at wiping it up. But Carl was right; it was very wet. She thought about turning the seat cushion over but thought it better to leave it up to dry.

Maddy took pride in taking care of things. She liked things to be just so. It wasn't easy to keep things that way with a job of her own to manage and a husband who grew lazier, it seemed, with every day. Thank goodness that her son Kyle, though like a teen boy in many of his habits, often volunteered to help with chores around the house.

"Here, mom," Kyle said, patting his hand on the love seat on his left side. "There's some room here. I'll move over so you can sit next to me." Kyle pressed his legs as far as he could against the right side of the little sofa.

Maddy squeezed next to Kyle on his half of the love seat. She put a pillow on the other cushion to keep her dress from contacting the wet part of the little sofa. Kyle wore shorts, and when Maddy sat down the warmth of his leg surprised her. So did its hardness; his thigh muscle pressed against her like steel.

Kyle felt surprise and pleasure at the cool, soft skin of his mom's leg against his own.

The T.V. show, called "Angel City Detective," began. It had premiered on a cable channel a year ago and had become their favorite. The series was about an attractive, young, female detective fighting crime in the dark underbelly of modern-day Los Angeles. Her name was Angel, and the irony of her name was that despite her by-the-book police methods, along with her innocent looks and understated beauty, she had a dark, wild, sexual side that she struggled to keep secret from her work colleagues. Its deft combination of sex, violence, and smart writing -- not to mention, the sex appeal of the actress that played Angel -- had made it a big hit. The Ryersons sat down to watch it every week.

Maddy glanced at Carl again, annoyed. She wished he would control his drinking better. Maddy didn't mind Carl having a couple of drinks to relax when he came home. But lately his routine had involved more than a couple of drinks, and by the time he turned the T.V. off he often was drunk. Maddy's love life suffered as a result of Carl's drinking habit. Lately, it seemed like he loved his six-pack more than his wife. Carl's inattentiveness had left her feeling perpetually frustrated and horny.

The relentless heat of the last seven days had just made it worse.

While Maddy was annoyed at Carl, Kyle was thinking about how his mom's leg felt pressed against him. It felt surprisingly good, which was kind of weird, Kyle thought, because it was just his mom. Kyle, too, was agitated and antsy. He hadn't had sex once since coming back home from college for the summer. His summer job kept him working long hours and left him tired at the end of the day, and he hadn't had time to date. So far, the only sexual relief he'd gotten all summer had been through jerking off. And he'd been too tired even to do that for the last five days. Sitting on the sofa, he was hot and agitated, and he thought his balls were going to burst.

As the opening credits for the show rolled, Maddy realized suddenly that the blast of air conditioning left her uncomfortably cold.

"Carl," she said. "It's getting a little chilly. Do you think you could turn off the air conditioner?"

"Gee, baby," said Carl. "The temperature feels fine to me. I think it's because you're dressed so skimpy. Here."

Carl grabbed a colorful, crocheted throw blanket hanging over the back of his chair, and, hardly looking up from the T.V. screen, he tossed it to Maddy and Kyle. Maddy scooped it up and spread it over her bare legs and brought it up to her chest.

Kyle shook his head at his dad's rudeness.

"I'll do it, mom," he said as he got up to turn off the air conditioner.

She left a space for him and half a minute later he was back in the same spot on the love seat.

"Would you like the blanket, too?" she asked.

Kyle wasn't really cold, but the room was cool and the idea of sharing the blanket with mom sounded cozy.

"Sure," he said.

All three of them sat, watching the show.

The lead character, Angel, arrived at her apartment after a tough day investigating a murder. She poured herself some bourbon on the rocks.

Something about Angel looked familiar to Kyle.

"You know, mom," he said. "She kind of looks like you. Don't you think so, dad?"

Carl grunted, barely registering Kyle's question through the fog of his growing drunkenness.

"Maybe the way your mom was ten years ago, I guess," he said. "I don't know."

His attention didn't stray from the T.V. screen. Obviously, he didn't want to be interrupted.

Kyle leaned over to his mother's ear.

"I don't think dad's paying attention to what he's saying," he whispered to her so his dad wouldn't hear. He gestured to the T.V. screen. "She does kind of look like you. But I think you look better than she does."

Maddy, who'd scrunched her face into a frown at Carl's rude remark, perked up and smiled at Kyle's kind words. She patted him on the thigh with her hand. Again, she was struck by the tensile strength of his leg muscles, and also how much warmer his legs were than hers. Kyle felt a little electric shiver at her touch. Maddy left her hand lightly on Kyle's leg under the blanket.

No sooner had Maddy touched Kyle's leg, however, when the character on the T.V. screen, Angel, quickly pulled all her clothes off and walked with her drink, naked, to the balcony of her high-rise apartment. She stood at the railing with the twinkling lights of the city spread out beyond her.

Then the doorbell rang in the T.V. show. Angel went to answer it, still naked, and after opening the door she pulled a man, obviously younger than she was, through the door and into her arms. They fell to the floor and she pulled his clothes off and they writhed on the floor, naked, together.

One of the things Kyle -- and the rest of America -- liked about the show was that the lead character, Angel, looked so wholesome and straight-laced, but had such a dirty and kinky side. She took her clothes off in almost every episode. It gave Kyle something to look forward to ever week.

But he felt odd having just compared the woman who was naked on the floor to his mom. Mom also looked wholesome and innocent. She had a proper way of doing things. He couldn't imagine her having a sexually wild side to her. But he wondered whether mom ever got wild, before he banished the thought and told himself he shouldn't be thinking things like that.

Meanwhile, Maddy watched the sex unfolding on the T.V. screen with a twinge of envy. Carl and I used to do things like that, she thought to herself. But it had been so long. Carl didn't seem to be interested in sex much, lately, and on the few occasions when he did show interest the drinking impaired his ability to keep it up, or even to get hard in the first place.

In the show, Angel had surrendered to her lover's strong, muscled arms. Maddy shivered a bit at the fantasy of being held and taken like that. The man with Angel was young and blond, and he had lean but pronounced muscles, like her son Kyle, she thought.

The room warmed quickly with the air conditioning off. The blanket probably was no longer necessary, but Maddy felt snug and comfy lying under it with Kyle, so she kept it on.

Suddenly, on the show, a gunshot sounded offscreen. Maddy jumped, startled. She pulled her hand off Kyle's thigh and grabbed his hand. They interlocked their fingers and without thinking about what she was doing she pulled his hand back to her until it rested on her thigh.

Kyle was surprised to feel the soft, cool skin of mom's thigh under his fingers, because his hand was high on her leg. The sundress must have risen a lot up her thighs. He couldn't complain, though; if mom didn't mind it, he didn't either.

Maddy felt it too, and she felt how heavy Kyle's hand was on her thigh. She felt the impression it made. She felt, too, how her entire right leg was pressed against his left, and the toes on her right foot touched his calf lightly. She thought for a second that perhaps there was too much contact between them, but to do something about it would call attention to the fact, and she decided it was better just to let things lie.

Carl stood up and scratched his belly.

"I'm going to get another beer," he mumbled. "Anybody want anything?"

Maddy and Kyle both said no.

Maddy peered at her husband, again, with disapproval. Laziness and beer had taken a toll on his once-muscular physique. She was struck by the contrast between her husband and her son.

Kyle, for his part, was annoyed at his dad, who seemed totally unappreciative of mom. Kyle knew that, many years before, they'd been high school sweethearts, and dad had been a star on the football team, but that had been a long time ago. Looking at his mom and dad now, they looked like a mismatch. Dad was getting plump and jowly, while his mom still looked fresh and fit and pretty.

She was better looking than any of his friends' moms, no question about it.

After his dad left to get a beer from the kitchen, Kyle looked through the side of his eye at mom under the blanket. He hadn't noticed before how much her breasts mounded under the striped crochet blanket. It rose and fell fetchingly over her breasts with her breathing.

His hand still was clasping his mom's, and it lay on her thigh. He squeezed her hand in an affectionate gesture and tapped her thigh with his hand. The result was to bring his hand further up her thigh and to push her thin dress farther up her legs as well.

"Your dad's not behaving very well, Kyle," Maddy said.

"I know, mom," he said. "He should be nicer to you."

Maddy struggled with a vague sense that Kyle's hand was higher on her thigh than it should be, but his hand wasn't doing anything wrong and there wasn't anything sexual about it, so she supposed it was O.K. It felt good. She was amazed at how much warmer Kyle's body was than hers; he was like a furnace. She was warmer under the blanket than she had been, but she still liked the warmth of his body, and she didn't want his hand to move.

Carl returned to the living room, with not just one beer but two -- one to drink right away and one to be held in reserve if needed.

Maddy hoped he wouldn't need another one. He already had drunk too much.

Carl settled into his chair with a heavy sigh. He popped the tab on the beer can and soon was lost in his program.

Maddy suddenly felt moisture on the underside of her left thigh. There wasn't enough room on the right side love seat cushion for two people, so her bottom and leg kept sliding onto the other cushion, which still was wet.

"Ugh," she said.

"What's wrong, mom?" Kyle asked.

"I can't keep myself on this side of the sofa because this cushion is too small. My leg keeps pushing up against the wet part on the other cushion," she said.

Kyle thought about getting up and offering his spot to his mom. That would be the chivalrous thing to do, he thought. But then he had another idea. He wasn't sure about it, but there didn't seem to be any harm in suggesting it.

"How about if you get on my lap?" he asked his mom. He said it as normally as he could. But inside, against a little voice that cautioned him against putting his mom's cute bottom on his lap, he tingled at the idea of his mom's body on him.

"Are you sure?" mom asked. "Don't you think that will be uncomfortable?"

"No, mom," Kyle said. "You barely weigh anything."

"Well," she said. "You're sweet. I know that's not true."

She paused.

"I guess we can try it. It's really uncomfortable constantly feeling the wet part of the sofa against me."

Maddy lifted her bottom and set it on Kyle's lap, while Kyle took the blanket and lay it over the two of them again. Then he settled his strong hands on his mom's waist.

"Oh!" Maddy said to herself, as she settled into Kyle's lap.

Something big and firm nudged against her butt. It was her son's penis. It wasn't erect, but it wasn't completely limp, either. It was . . . somewhere in between. She hadn't expected to feel it, and she hadn't expected it to be quite so . . . big.

She wasn't sure what to do. It seemed wrong to remain sitting on Kyle while feeling him in this way, but it would be embarrassing to call attention to it. Then, too, she had nowhere else to sit. After a moment's indecision, Maddy decided to remain where she was. She even twisted her pert bottom back and forth to find the right part of Kyle's lap into which to settle for the rest of the show.

The contact with his mom's bottom sent a powerful electric jolt straight into Kyle's cock. Kyle felt his mom twist in his lap. The blanket started to fall so he grabbed it and adjusted it so it would stay over them. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he brought them around her and set them on his mom's bare thighs, just below the hem of her short dress.

Maddy and Kyle tried to concentrate on the T.V. show, but each had a hard time doing it. Kyle's full attention was focused on his fingertips and the way the cool skin of his mom's bare thighs felt under them. He wrestled with the feeling. You weren't supposed to think about your mom that way, he thought. But he couldn't help it. His mom's bare exposed shoulder was in front of him, inches away, peeking out from under the blanket. He saw a thin bra strap -- pink, he noticed -- nudging out the side of the shoulder of her sleeveless top.

A tense action sequence in the T.V. show distracted both of them from the way they were pressed together. Maddy couldn't stop herself from jumping again during a scary scene. Her hands clasped Kyle's hard and when they rested again his hands were even higher on her thighs than they had been before.

Maddy wasn't sure what she was doing. What she did know was that his strong hands felt good on her skin. She hadn't felt hands like that on her in a long time. His fingers lay right at the hem of her dress, which, she could tell, seemed somehow to be creeping up her thighs.

Kyle didn't know what to think, either. Seemingly, without him having done anything he could think of to make it happen, his hands lay on his mom's cool, soft thighs; the hem of her short dress obviously was bunched higher than it had been before, and his hands were right at the edge of it. He tried to control his thoughts -- this was his mom, after all -- but he couldn't help but think that his fingertips must have rested no more than a few inches from mom's panties under the dress.

He wondered if his mom's panties were pink, like her bra.

Kyle had laid his hands on a girl's legs before, but it had never felt like this. But this was his mom. His hands would behave. They had to, he thought.

But sometimes hands have purposes of their own.

Kyle spread his fingers out, as though they needed a good stretch after lying still. The effect was to encompass more of each of mom's thighs with his hands, and to press the hem of her dress up a little farther. Without thinking about what he was doing he gave his mom's thighs a gentle squeeze with each outstretched hand.

To Maddy it felt better than the best massage, and she instinctively moved her thighs up and against Kyle's strong fingers. The motion caused his fingers to slip just under her dress. They both sat still like the under the blanket. Maddy felt glad the blanket was covering her, because she wouldn't want Carl to see where Kyle's hands were on her. On the other hand, he was probably too drunk to notice.

She didn't know what to do. She thought she should object, maybe with a whisper, or maybe with her hands pushing Kyle's hands back. But she wasn't sure she would be able to. His hands were so big, and so strong, and they lay heavy and implacable against her thighs. And she thought it would be worse to call attention to what was happening. After all, nothing had really happened. Saying something would be awkward.

It was important to Maddy to do the right thing. But she wasn't sure what the right thing to do was. Plus, there was a little voice inside her, soft and barely audible, but growing in intensity, that said that Kyle's firm, strong hands on her thighs felt very, very right.

Kyle began to feel hot under the blanket with mom on his lap. Ordinarily, he would throw off the blanket. But with dad a few feet away there was no way he'd be able to hold his hands against mom's legs like this with the blanket off. It was worth a little heat to keep them where they were.

Kyle moved his body, as though he was making himself more comfortable under mom in the seat, and as he did so his right hand moved up mom's thigh another inch or two.

Now he was sure that his thumb was close to mom's panties. And he knew that mom knew it too. Kyle knew he wasn't an expert at reading women, but he was having an especially difficult time figuring out what mom was thinking. She hadn't done anything to encourage him, as far as he could tell, but she hadn't discouraged him either.

His hand felt good there. He decided to leave it there a minute and see what happened.

The show continued. Dad seemed barely awake. He hadn't looked back at or said anything to Maddy or Kyle in over ten minutes.

Maddy realized, suddenly, that she was excited. Her whole body was tense and alive. She was aroused by the feeling of her son against her. That was wrong, wasn't it? And yet they hadn't really done anything inappropriate. Kyle's hands were hidden under the crocheted blanket. With the hands out of view, she could sit and watch the television program and enjoy her arousal -- something she hadn't felt in a while -- and pretend that nothing was really happening.

But it was. Something was happening. She liked the feel of Kyle's hands on her. She wondered if he liked it, what he felt, what he was thinking. She thought she was good at reading men but she was having a hard time figuring out what Kyle was thinking and feeling. His hands were close to her panties, in a place they weren't supposed to be, but they lay so still against her. They weren't doing anything.

What if she sent him a signal? Just a little one. Something barely noticeable. What would he do? How would he respond? She wondered.

She squirmed against him. She noticed his cock -- she let herself think of it as his cock, not a penis -- felt bigger than before. When she was done squirming her legs were farther apart than before.

Kyle responded immediately, his body moving with hers to keep up the appearance of innocence. His hand moved up her thigh until his thumb contacted the side of her panties. There it stopped again.

The side of her panty was just a little string. Oh mom, Kyle thought. He had no idea that his innocent-looking mom wore such tiny panties.

Barely aware of what she was doing, Maddy moved her right hip toward Kyle's hand. Just a tiny bit.

It was in invitation. She knew it, and he knew it, and there was no doubt about it.

His cock grew under her bottom. She felt that too, and she liked it. She pushed her bottom against it, just a little, in response.

In a quick sweep, he moved his right hand up under her dress and rested it on her belly. He brought his left hand up until the little string side of her panty was between his thumb and forefinger. He snuck a finger under the string and snapped it lightly against her hip bone.

It was getting very warm under the blanket. But neither Maddy nor Kyle minded and neither of them was going to take it off.

Maddy leaned to the side a little so she could look back and to the side at her son. She and Kyle stared into each other's eyes. They said no words, but understanding passed between them. Kyle looked back at his dad's chair. No movement from dad.

He looked back at mom, and he gave her a kiss --just a peck -- on her lips. She smiled back at her son. Her loving, strong -- and increasingly large -- son.

Maddy couldn't pretend it wasn't happening. Kyle was holding her like a lover, not like a son. Her body loved it. It tingled with the feeling of his hands on her belly and on her panties.

She looked at the back of Carl's chair to make sure he wasn't looking, and she leaned over and gave Kyle a quick kiss back.

She couldn't let this get out of hand. This was her son, after all, and her husband was right next to both of them. But she would continue to enjoy the feel of Kyle's hands on her. She turned back to the television screen and tried to watch the show.

Kyle was past watching T.V., though. The feel of his mom's smooth skin against his hands and her soft voluptuous body in his arms electrified him, and every sense was at high pitch. His nose caught the fresh scent of her hair.

Mom was enjoying this, Kyle thought. And she wouldn't want to make a scene in front of dad. Her sense of propriety would give him some latitude to keep touching her.

He pushed his right hand down her belly and between her thighs, and he let it rest right over her panties. He pressed his middle finger down, right over where he guessed her pussy would be.

He found it, all right. Maddy reacted. She couldn't help herself. She pressed her mound against his finger before she could think of a more appropriate response.

I shouldn't have done that, she thought. But she didn't want his hands to stop. If she just sat there quietly, watching television, she could enjoy it and pretend it wasn't happening at the same time.

Kyle's finger and Maddy's pussy mound began moving in rhythm against each other. She was impressed at her son's skill with his finger. It knew exactly where to be and how to press, and she could tell it was starting to make her damp below. She couldn't let herself come in front of husband, however. Even in his current state he would notice that. But Kyle's finger kept pressing against the slight panty fabric over her pussy. If he kept going he definitely would make her come.

But he stopped. She wondered why, but not for long.

His right hand moved away from her pussy to the string on her right hip. He hooked both his thumbs under the sides of her panties and began pulling.

Her son was going to remove her panties under the blanket, while her husband sat just a few feet away.

She couldn't let him do that. It was too risky. Her lap was under the blanket, but her legs were exposed beneath he knees. If he happened to look over --

But her body didn't listen to her scruples. Maddy raised her bottom, slightly, to make it easier for Kyle to take her panties off.

The panties were tiny, and she could feel the thin material being peeled down and off her thighs. She looked down and saw the movement of Kyle's hands under the blanket as they helped the panties off her legs. To assist him she had to bring her legs up and closer to her, just a bit, and Kyle had to lean forward. It wasn't easy from their position, but the panties continued their progress off of her.

Carl noticed nothing.

Kyle's hands went as far as they could go from his position, so Maddy leaned forward to finish it. She felt the panties slip over her knees.

Kyle saw the panties come into view where the blanket ended at his mom's knees. They were pink, and shiny, and very, very tiny. He couldn't be certain, but he thought he saw a slightly darkened patch, which he guessed was wetness.

He would find out soon how wet mom was.

Both Maddy and Kyle watched as the panties dropped out of sight beyond the edge of the sofa. Carl still didn't notice. With her foot Maddy tried to push the panties under the love seat. It was incredibly risky but there was a good chance Carl, in his current state, wouldn't notice.

It was getting harder for Maddy to be passive about what was happening. She knew this wasn't right, but her body surged with arousal and desire.

Kyle's hands -- those amazing hands, Maddy thought -- came back to her dress. Then, Kyle started to unbutton the dress, starting with the bottom button.

Maddy realized her son was going to strip her naked under the blanket, next to her husband. She had to stop him.

But she couldn't.

He finished unbuttoning her quickly, then he pulled back the edges of her dress, away from her body, under the blanket. Then Maddy felt his hands on her bra-clad breasts. His fingers, exploring her breasts and her bra, found the bra's front-side fastener, and they nimbly unsnapped it. The bra cups sprang away from her ample breasts. Both Maddy and Kyle could hear it unsnap. Carl's attention didn't waiver from the show, so they guessed he hadn't heard it.

Maddy felt her strong son's rock-hard cock under her, and she ground her ass against it. Her ability to resist him was fading fast.

Kyle grabbed his mother's big breasts under the blanket. He pinched her nipples and was surprised at how long and hard they were.

One hand stayed on mom's breast and the other slid down her torso to the junction between his mom's legs. Maddy spread her legs open farther to accommodate his hand when it got there. Kyle slid a finger down over her clit and along the fleshy gash below it. Mom already was dripping with excitement. He plunged a finger into her.

Kyle finger-fucked his mom under the blanket. She stifled a gasp. She'd completely given her body to her son now, and she loved it. She was his, to play with and do with as he wished under the blanket on the love seat.

But she still had to be careful about not letting Carl find out what was going on.

Suddenly, Carl spoke. His voice startled both of them and their bodies jerked under the blanket.

"I think I fell asleep for a minute," he said. "You guys enjoying the show?"

Carl leaned over and turned toward them.

Maddy and Kyle froze under the blanket, both of them holding their bodies still. Only Kyle's finger continued to move, pistoning in and out of Maddy's wet pussy while his father looked at them under the blanket. Kyle moved just his finger; his hand lay still so his father would see no suspicious movement under the blanket.

Maddy looked at her husband and didn't speak. Her underwear and dress were off of her or peeled back and she was aware how naked she was under the blanket. And, of course, she felt her son's thick fingers in her damp pussy and his hard cock pressed against her ass.

Maddy and Kyle saw, fortunately, that Carl's eyes had trouble focusing after seven beers. He looked tired, besides. His eyes swept over his son and wife without any hint that he realized what was going on.

"I gotta go to the bathroom," he announced and stood up again, more unsteady than before..

He left the living room for the hall, and Maddy and Kyle stayed frozen in place until the bathroom door closed and locked.

When they heard the lock, Maddy threw off her blanket and turned toward her strapping son.

Without hesitating for a second she turned around and lifted her bottom off Kyle's lap and knelt at his side. She didn't care about the moisture on the love seat on her shins now. All she cared about was getting her hands on the hard cock that had been pressing against her bottom for the last half hour.

Kyle watched in astonishment at his mom, naked and gorgeous, full breasts bouncing in excitement inches away, descending on the fly of his pants. She unzipped him and pulled out his cock and with one hand gripping his shaft she guided his manhood unerringly into her eager mouth.

Well, that decided it, Kyle thought. His mom did have a wild side. She was as wild and cock-hungry as any woman he'd ever seen. And a lot hotter.

Maddy let only the head of Kyle's cock into her mouth, at first. Her tongue swirled around the tip to lap up any precum; there was a lot, more than she'd ever encountered. Her son's cock head was big and bulbous in her mouth and she savored the saltiness of her son's fluid. When she was done she opened her mouth wider and pushed down to take as much of him as she could.

She couldn't take as much as she wanted, not right at first, because he was bigger than she expected him to be. Bigger than his father, that was for certain. Carl, she imagined herself saying, your son's cock is so big and it feels so good in my mouth -- so much better than yours. Lust clouded all Maddy's other thoughts.

Maddy had never mastered the art of deep-throating, but she'd never regretted her lack of skill until now, because the only way to take all of her big, hard son into her mouth was to swallow him until his cock tip hit the back of her throat, and she wanted every single inch of him. She kept taking him until her throat gagged and her eyes watered, but she didn't let that stop her. God, she wanted it so badly. With the cock head disappearing into the depths of her mouth, she kept her tongue busy swirling against his engorged shaft, tracing its length and swirling around its girth.

Kyle lay his hands lightly over mom's lush hair, not believing what he was seeing and feeling. He held his head back and at an angle to get the best look possible, and he pulled a handful of hair away from her face so he could see his hard cock disappearing into his mom's pretty mouth.

Mom pulled her mouth back, her lush lips stretched against him, until no more than the tip lay between her lips. And then she plunged back down.

Kyle threw his head back and moaned at the ceiling while mom serviced his dick, her head bobbing up and down wildly. The sensation was pure heaven.

Then they both heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door open down the hall. Carl's heavy footsteps followed.

With one hand Kyle pushed on his mom's head to keep her in place and stop her from moving, and with the other he gathered what he could of the blanket and threw it over her nude body.

Dad came walking woozily down the hallway and back into the living room. He stood in back of the sofa, just far enough away that Kyle didn't think he could see the bulging blanket that shrouded mom on his lap.

Carl looked in an unfocused way toward the T.V. screen as though to decide whether there was anything there that required further watching. The T.V. show continued playing but none of them had any idea what was going on.

Carl pointed vaguely at the television.

"Did she ever find out what she was looking for?" he asked.

Kyle had no idea what his dad was talking about, but he decided to play along.

"Yeah, dad," he said. "I think she's right on top of it." It was all he could think to say.

"Yeah, well," Carl said, "That Angel always gets what she wants."

"Yes she does," Kyle said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Carl looked around the room.

"Where's your mom?" he asked.

"Ahhh," said Kyle, "I think she went to the laundry room to get something." He was winging it.

That seemed to satisfy Carl, who wasn't thinking clearly. He turned and headed toward his bedroom. He swayed a little as he walked.

"I'm going to bed," he said. "Don't turn the show off on account of me. You two just keep doing what you're doing. See you in the morning."

"We will, dad," Kyle said. "Good night!"

When his dad's lumbering footsteps grew quieter and Kyle could hear his parents' bedroom door being closed, he threw the blanket off mom.

She looked up at him, still as a mouse, eyes wide, red lips still wrapped around his thick cock.

Kyle stared at his mom for almost a minute as she tended sweetly to him.

"Sit up, mom," he said.

Mom was naked in front but the dress and bra still clung to her back. Kyle pulled them off her. Then he pulled off his shirt and threw off his shorts and briefs in a quick motion.

Kyle and Maddy sat naked together. Their bodies shone with a light film of sweat in the dim, flickering light coming from the television. The rest of the room lay in darkness.

"I can't stand it anymore, mom," Kyle said, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "I have to fuck you."

Maddy stared at her son, naked. Her breasts heaved with her deep breaths. An hour earlier it would have been unthinkable to hear what he just said to her, and she could not have imagined sitting naked with her son as she was now. But a lot could happen in an hour. Maddy knew now that he would fuck her, and she wanted him to fuck her.

Kyle's eyes swept over his mom's nude body -- the heavy breasts, the flat belly, the shapely legs, and the thick, wild pussy lips between them. He grabbed mom's hips in his hands.

Maddy felt herself lifted with astonishing ease. She knew what her son was doing but marveled at how easily he did it. She held her legs open in expectation and readied herself. She was about to experience her son in a way she'd never dreamed of.

And she wanted it, more badly than anything.

Kyle's cock stood straight and hard and improbably long over his lap, and he held his pretty mom in his hands over it. Then he pulled her down on top of him.

Kyle's cock head found its target without hesitation. He felt the hard tip push against mom's fleshy lips and spread them back and to the side, and then he felt himself slide into her wetness. Deeper, deeper, deeper; he kept pressing.

It took all of Maddy's self-control to stop from crying out at being speared by her son.

No man ever had filled her so completely or plumbed her so deeply. She wouldn't have thought she could have taken a cock that big that deep. Surely it would have knocked something aside inside her? But no -- somehow her body accommodated her son, fully.

Maddy felt Kyle grip her hips more tightly and push his cock into her even more deeply. She was startled and worried that her body couldn't accommodate him, so she tried to rock her body in the same direction of his cock. But Kyle wouldn't let her. His grip on her hips was like iron and he stopped her from moving away as he ground his shaft into her, all the way, as deep as he could go.

Maddy moaned. She couldn't help it. She had to hope that her husband already was asleep or couldn't hear her through the closed bedroom door.

Then Kyle moved her body up and brought her down hard again. Up and down, rocking against her, Kyle fucked his pretty mom on his lap.

Maddy gave up all resistance and surrendered to the onslaught of her son's need.

Kyle's need was relentless, stoked by the heat and the days of frustration and the sight of his beautiful mother impaled on his shaft and obviously enjoying her submission to him. He pushed into her, again and again, staking his claim to his mom's body with every deep thrust.

After fucking her on his lap for several minutes, Kyle lifted himself and his mom off the sofa. Maddy admired his strength and his ability to move her about as he wished so easily.

Holding mom fast to his body, Kyle turned around and then lay his mom with her back on the sofa. He was still inside her, and he didn't let her go as he lay her back all the way and he spread her legs apart to savor the sight of his hardness buried in her to the hilt.

Then he began fucking her in a fast rhythm that got even faster as he kept going.

Kyle took his mom's legs in his strong hands and spread them back even farther so he could enjoy the sight of her and enter her more deeply.

He looked at his mom underneath him in awe. Her whole body shook under the force of the hard fucking, and her ample breasts bounced and swayed, her hard, long nipples pointing in every direction.

There's nothing like fucking your mother, Kyle thought. Nothing in all the whole, wide world like it.

Maddy couldn't think at all. She was pure sensation -- bliss, joy, passion, surrender -- under the barrage of her son's relentless pounding of her body.

Kyle felt the surge inside him coming. It was welling up inside him, and he wasn't going to hold back. A week's worth of cum was on its way.

This is for you, mom, he thought.

He erupted inside her, filling her with his seed. Thick spurt after thick spurt.

Maddy felt her body give way and she came too. Her body bucked uncontrollably against her son.

Kyle still was filling her but he wanted to see it. He pulled out and pointed his cock at his mom's belly. Thick ropes of white cum spurted and splattered all over her -- mostly on her belly but drops and splotches of it on her thighs and pussy, as well, and a sprinkling of it on her breasts as well.

Kyle pumped away at his cock with his hand to empty himself all over his mom. Her body spasmed and rocked with abandon while he did so, as her orgasm continued sweeping through her in waves.

They slowed down. Their bodies grew still and quiet together and they stared into each other's eyes.

Maddy looked at the thick layer of white sloppy goo on her belly. She reached down and smeared it over her torso. Then she scooped as much of it as she could with two fingers and brought them to her mouth. She licked her fingers clean with a loud smack.

Kyle reached out his hand. He swept it lovingly over his mom's sweat-soaked, cum-spattered body.

"I think you're going to have to take a shower," Kyle said. "What would dad think if he found you with my cum all over you?"

"I'm not going to shower," she said. "I'm going to bed like this, marked by you. It'll dry on me and I can wash it off in the morning. Your dad's too drunk to notice."

Kyle sat down on the sofa and engulfed his mom in his arms. He held her, gently.

The air conditioner had been off for nearly an hour, and the summer heat had returned to the living room, but Maddy didn't mind. She sat hot and sticky in her son's arms, and she liked it. The heat had brought out a passion she'd never felt before, and she didn't want to let go of it.

The flickering light from the television distracted them. Maddy and Kyle, mother and son, turned toward the screen at the same time. The show was over and the credits were rolling.

"I like that show," Maddy said, clinging to Kyle's neck and panting in his ear as she said it.

Kyle agreed. He couldn't wait for the next episode..

190 Late Night Under The Stars With Mom

SimonDoom

This story is a sequel to the story "Late Night On The Loveseat With Mom." You don't have to read that story first, but you'll understand this story better if you do.

Maddy Ryerson woke to the sound of her husband's snoring.

She turned over in bed to look at him. She was glad Carl hadn't awakened before her, because her son's dried cum still coated her nude body in a thick, flaky crust.

Eager to wash off the evidence of her tryst with her son before Carl awoke, Maddy threw back the bed covers and walked naked to the bathroom.

Under the hot spray of the shower, Maddy's body trembled at the memory of the previous night with her son, Kyle. Kyle had undressed her on the loveseat in the living room, while Carl had watched T.V. or dozed in his chair just feet away. Maddy had given her body, fully and without reservation, to her son, and he had taken it and fucked her fast and hard. Her body had convulsed with the orgasm Kyle had given her with his furious fucking. It had been a long time since her husband, Carl, had made her feel that way. She could not even remember the last time he had.

Still, Maddy felt guilty. A mom wasn't supposed to have sex with her son. Maddy didn't know how she would approach Kyle and talk to him about it. She would have to find a way to convince him that, no matter how good it had felt, they couldn't do it again. It wasn't right. It wasn't proper.

Out of the shower, Maddy toweled herself off, and she crept back into the bedroom to her dresser to retrieve clothes to wear, taking care to avoid making noise that would wake Carl. She pulled on shorts and a t-shirt over a bra and panties, anticipating another sweltering summer day ahead.

Shutting the bedroom door quietly behind her, Maddy walked to the kitchen, enjoying the coolness of the wood strip floor under her bare feet.

She entered the kitchen and glanced at the calendar on the refrigerator door. In blue letters on this day's date Maddy had written "METEOR SHOWER." Maddy had read that the meteor shower that night was supposed to be one of the best in years. She had talked to Carl and Kyle about having a late-night barbeque in the backyard and staying up to midnight to watch the stars fall.

Maddy searched the kitchen for food for the barbeque. The refrigerator and cupboards were mostly bare. A trip to the store would be necessary.

As she opened cupboards over the kitchen counter, Maddy suddenly felt a hand press against her ass. She recognized her son's strong fingers.

Kyle had wakened early, and lain awake in his bed, the events of the night before playing back in his mind, over and over. The sound of his mom in the kitchen had roused him from his bed.

At the touch of her son's hand on her body, Maddy turned around. As soon as she did so Kyle embraced her and kissed her. His tongue entered her mouth briefly, but she put a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

"Mom", Kyle said.

"Kyle, stop," Maddy said. "We can't do this."

"Why not?" Kyle asked. "You didn't say that on the sofa last night. I want you, mom."

"Kyle, what happened last night -- it wasn't right," she said. "We can't do that again."

Maddy's hand pressed against Kyle's chest to keep him away, but it didn't fully succeed. His hands remained on her hips, trying to pull her toward him.

"Mom," he said. "Last night felt so good. I know you felt it too. Don't push me away."

But she did. Her hand pressed firmly against his chest, and it stopped him from kissing her.

"Kyle," she said. "I don't want to talk about last night. What happened, happened, but it can't happen again. You know it's not right. You're my son. Your father's going to be up soon and he can't see us like this. Please."

Kyle stopped trying to pull his mom closer to him. He looked away toward the direction of his parents' bedroom, to make sure his dad didn't stumble on them. He probably would have a hangover, Kyle thought, but even if he did he'd wonder what his son was doing with his arms around his wife in the kitchen.

Kyle let go of his mom.

"I don't get it, mom," he said. "Last night was fantastic. I know you felt that too. I know it. We can be careful. Dad doesn't have to know. But I want you again. I think you want it too."

Kyle could see in his mom's face that she was torn.

"Kyle, let's talk about this later. Not right now. Give me time to think about this. But I want you to back off in the meantime. OK?"

Kyle paused before answering.

"OK, mom," he said. "I'll back off for now. During the day. But I'm not making any promises about what happens tonight. I want what happened last night to happen again. I want you so badly."

Kyle thought about the feeling of his cock rammed up inside his mom when she straddled his lap the night before. He didn't know it, but his mom was thinking the same thing and trying not to betray her thoughts to her son.

"You get until night-time, mom," he said. "And then I'm coming back. That's all I can promise."

Maddy struggled to keep her feelings in check. The idea of her son, and his lean, hard young body, pursuing her and taking her, was thrilling. Her body actually swayed in front of him -- just a little -- as she thought about his words, before she stopped herself.

"We'll talk later," was all she could say.

"Sure, mom," Kyle said, and he stepped back to give mom her space -- for the time being.

Maddy turned around to concentrate on making breakfast. She looked out the kitchen window to the backyard. A thermometer, fastened to a post on the patio cover, showed that already the temperature was 80 degrees. That meant the high temperature for the day likely would climb over 100 degrees, for the eighth straight day. Once again, there would be no way to escape the heat.

Carl finally emerged from the bedroom just minutes before Maddy put breakfast on the table. He hadn't showered yet, and he half-walked, half-stumbled into the kitchen with messy hair and bad breath.

Kyle helped set the table while Maddy finished making omelets, along with bacon and strawberries on the side.

When the food was done they sat at the small table in the kitchen. Carl sat on one side of the table and Kyle sat on the other side. Maddy sat between them.

Carl and Kyle dug into the omelets. Maddy sipped her coffee. Though she had kept her son at bay so far this morning, she couldn't stop thinking about the feeling of him inside her. No man ever had filled her the way he had.

She shook her head slightly, as though to rid herself of those thoughts. She had to stop thinking about Kyle that way. He was her son. What had happened, happened, but it couldn't happen again.

Then she felt Kyle's foot against her calf, under the table. She let out a tiny squeal.

Carl looked up from a big chunk of omelet on his fork, with heavy-lidded eyes.

"You O.K., baby?" he said.

"Yes," Maddy said, flustered. "I just, um, felt something on the floor."

She pulled her calf away from her son's searching, bare foot.

"Time to clean the kitchen, I guess," Carl mumbled. Then he shoved the forkful of egg and cheese into his mouth.

Kyle's bare foot found his mom's calf again. He traced a toe over her skin. She had no more room to pull away, so she left her leg there. She shivered at his touch. She glanced quickly at him, to give him a look of disapproval, and he was looking at her, already, a faint smile on his lips. After a few more seconds he pulled his foot away.

"So, Maddy," Carl said after mostly swallowing the bite of omelet, "Tonight's that meteor shower, right? The one they've been talking about on the news?"

Maddy and Carl had long shared an interest in astronomy. In the early days of their relationship, when Carl was young and fit and romantic, they had lain for hours under the stars, talking, kissing, and making love. The interest had waned in recent years, but this particular meteor shower was supposed to be a good one, and it had caught their attention.

"Yes," Maddy said. "I thought we'd have a late barbeque, and then sit in the back yard and watch it. It's supposed to start around 11 p.m."

"Sounds good," said Carl. "How's the beer supply?"

"I think you almost finished them off last night," said Maddy. "I'll go to the store later today and pick up some beer along with food for dinner."

Kyle perked up.

"I'll go with you, mom," he said.

"Thanks, that's O.K., Kyle," said Maddy. "I think your dad wants help fixing the sprinklers."

Maddy wanted to avoid Kyle during the day, so long as she could. She knew he wouldn't control himself, especially if Carl weren't around. And she wasn't sure how well she would control herself, either.

"Sprinklers?" Kyle exclaimed. "It's going to be over a hundred degrees outside today."

"It's no big deal, Kyle," said Carl. "You're mom's right. A couple of the sprinkler heads aren't working and must be replaced. I could use your help. You can go swimming afterward."

Kyle thought he would prefer doing errands with his mom, not his dad. But mom seemed to be determined to keep him away. He relented.

"O.K.," he said.

After breakfast, Maddy prepared a list of things to buy for the barbeque. She wanted to be out of the house as long as possible, away from Kyle, so she called a friend to have lunch. Carl rummaged through the garage to find the tools needed to fix the sprinklers. Kyle resigned himself to having to wait until evening to have another chance with mom.

Kyle watched his mom leave the house, her ass snug and shapely in the tight shorts. He sighed. The day went by unbearably slowly. His dad took forever getting stuff together in the garage to work on the sprinklers. By the time he'd gotten it together it was mid-day, and Carl decided he wanted to watch a few innings of a baseball game on television. Once settled into his chair in front of the television, however, and with the last three beers from the refrigerator at his side, Carl wouldn't get out until the game was over. Kyle sat on the sofa next to his dad, trying to watch the game, but thinking about his mom's body the entire time. He counted the minutes and hours on the clock.

It was mid-afternoon when the game finished and Carl finally roused himself to get his chores done.

"All right, Kyle," he said. "Let's fix those sprinklers."

"Dad, it's three o clock. It's over a hundred degrees outside."

"Oh, come on," Carl urged. "Don't be a wimp. It won't take long, and you can go swimming when we're done."

Kyle thought about how his dad could be lazy about a lot of things, but he liked doing yard work, and he always seemed to pick the hottest time of day to do it.

It was sweltering outside when Kyle and his dad, finally, went into the backyard to fix the sprinklers. In no time, his body was covered in sweat and dirt as they knelt in the yard to dig up the sprinkler heads. Kyle admired his dad's ability to focus on the task without seeming to mind the heat. Kyle had trouble focusing on the job. Images of his mom's nude body, under his, filled his head.

Maddy, meanwhile, was finishing lunch with her friend, Emma. The restaurant offered a cool, temporary respite from the heat. Lunch had stretched on for a few hours, and each of them was picking over the remains of their dessert.

"So, how's Kyle doing, back home from college?" Emma asked. "He must be popular with the girls. He's very handsome. He takes after his father."

Maddy felt flustered, being reminded of Kyle. She tried to banish the thought of his muscular shoulders over her and of his thick cock filling her.

"He's fine," she said. "No girls, though. Work's keeping him too busy. I don't think he's dated at all since he got back home from school."

"Well," said Emma. "If he's anything like my son, he must be bouncing off the walls. Better watch out for him." She grinned lasciviously.

"Oh, I'll watch him," said Maddy, before she could check herself. She felt flustered again. She thought about Kyle's bare hips pushing hard against hers. She worried that her face would betray what she was thinking to Emma.

Maddy and Emma split the check and left the restaurant. A blast of heat hit Maddy as soon as she walked out the door. It was searing, and wilting. She said a quick goodbye to Emma and rushed to the car for the relief of the air conditioner. She drove to the store to pick up food and beer for the barbeque.

An hour later, Maddy returned home, to find Carl showered, in his chair, and watching sports highlights on T.V.

"Hi, babe," Carl said. "Did you get beer?"

"More than you need," she said. "Can you help me bring it in? Where's Kyle?"

"He's swimming. We finished the sprinklers about an hour ago and he's been relaxing since then."

Maddy looked through the window into the backyard. She saw Kyle lying on a yellow plastic raft in the middle of the pool. She and Carl brought the food and beer in from the car. Carl grabbed two beers and resumed his place in the chair in front of the television.

Maddy thought the pool looked awfully inviting. She was still sweating from being out in the sun. The cool water would feel good.

"I'm going to go take a dip in the pool," she said.

"Sounds good," said Carl, without looking up.

A minute later, standing in her bedroom and looking into the drawer with her swimsuits, she had misgivings. She knew the effect of seeing her wearing a swimsuit would have on Kyle. She wasn't sure he would control himself. But the pool was so deliciously inviting. And it was broad daylight and the pool was visible from the living room, where Carl sat watching T.V. Kyle couldn't get too carried away.

And, Maddy had to admit, she like the idea of showing off to her son. It would be fun to expose herself in a bikini to him, knowing that with his father awake and nearby Kyle couldn't do very much.

On a whim, she picked the smallest bikini out of the drawer. It was turquoise, with a triangle top and string-tied bottom. She put it on quickly, grabbed a towel, and walked outside to the backyard. Carl was engrossed in the sports highlights and didn't notice as she walked by.

She approached the pool, wondering if she had made a mistake. Kyle lay still on the yellow raft, sunglasses on, and hadn't noticed her yet.

The temperature was searing. The water felt good when she put her foot on the step in the shallow end. Her entrance into the pool made a soft splash and Kyle looked up from the raft.

He didn't say anything at first. Maddy could tell he was staring at her, and she stood on the low step in the pool, most of her body above the water. Without thinking about what she was doing she stopped and put her hands on her hips so he could look at her.

Kyle's first thought was that it was the smallest bikini he'd ever seen his mom wear. The bottom covered only a small patch of her front, and the top barely contained her large breasts. Her raised nipples were visible under the thin bikini.

"Come on in," he said to her. "The water feels great."

Maddy became aware of how much she was exposing to Kyle, and she became a little embarrassed. She walked into the refreshing water until it was just below the tips of her breasts.

Kyle flipped off the raft and swam toward her.

Uh oh, Maddy thought, her fear and desire in conflict. Kyle stood up as he reached the shallow end of the pool and Maddy watched his broad shoulders emerge from the pool, water dripping off his muscles.

Kyle walked across the pool bottom toward her. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses but the hungry grin on his face betrayed his feeling.

"Be good, Kyle," Maddy urged.

"I'm always good, mom," he said and smiled.

Kyle noticed that his mom's nipples rose just over the level of the water, and now that her bikini top was soaked through they stood out even more sharply than before against the bikini fabric.

Kyle reached his hand forward under the water until it touched the little triangle of mom's bikini bottom. He pressed his finger against the slit underneath, and he felt the bikini give way just a little.

"Kyle, you shouldn't do that," Maddy said. But she didn't move or push his hand away. Instead, she parted her legs, just a bit, so his hand would be able to touch her more easily. Maddy's body wasn't cooperating with her conscience. She pushed the mound between her legs forward, slightly, against Kyle's fingers.

"I think I should, mom," Kyle said. "I did a lot more than that last night, and we both loved it. Dad can't see what my hand is doing. It looks like we're just talking."

Kyle was right. He stood just far enough from Maddy that it would look from a distance like they were having an innocent conversation. His finger wasn't innocent, though. It found the furrow of his mom's sex under the bikini and traced it, up and down. It felt good to rub mom's pussy again, he thought.

It felt good to Maddy, too, although it made her feel guilty.

Maddy backed up against the side of the pool to brace herself.

We shouldn't be doing this, she thought. But she lifted a leg to give Kyle more access to her body, anyway. Maddy couldn't seem to control her body when Kyle touched her.

Kyle moved forward as his mom moved back, keeping pressure with his finger on his mom's sex. Then he slipped his finger under the edge of the bikini bottom and pushed it forward until it found his mother's vulva. His finger slipped inside her easily. He stroked the wet flesh between her lips, tickling her clit on each upstroke.

Maddy was glad that her face was turned away from the living room window, so her husband couldn't see her expression when she let out a low moan at the touch of Kyle's hand.

Her hands went to the ties on the side of her bikini, and she was ready to take it off, and the top too, and let Kyle fuck her there in the pool. But she regained control of her senses and her body.

"Kyle, no," she said. "We can't do this."

"Doesn't it feel good, mom?" he asked.

"Yes, yes it does. But we can't do this. Please stop."

She grabbed his wrist with her hand and pulled him away, and his finger slipped out of her.

Maddy moved away and walked out of the pool. Kyle was sorry to see her go but enjoyed the sight of the brief bikini bottom, dripping wet and clinging to his mom's shapely ass. Despite the cool water, Kyle had an erection, and he waited until it had subsided to follow his mom out of the pool.

Carl continued to watch sports highlights, oblivious to what was happening between his wife and son in the backyard.

Maddy and Kyle retreated to their respective rooms while Carl watched T.V. Time passed, the sun descended in the sky toward the horizon, and afternoon became evening.

In her room, Maddy worried about nightfall. She knew her son wanted her and would try to have her again when it was dark and Carl wasn't paying attention. Maddy was torn. Her body yearned for the feel of Kyle's body against hers, and inside her. But her conscience told her it was wrong. For a long time, she sat on her bed and couldn't move.

Eventually, her tummy won. It was late, and she was hungry. It was time for dinner. Maddy left her room to rouse Carl from his laziness in front of the T.V. and to work on dinner.

The barbeque was a joint effort. Maddy prepared the mashed potatoes and salad and Carl barbequed the pork ribs. Kyle set the table on the patio in the backyard. By the time the food was cooked and served, the sun had long since set and the evening enveloped them in near total darkness. A large glass enclosed candle provided the only light for dinner.

Everyone thought the meal was delicious. Maddy had to admit Carl had cooked the ribs to perfection, and Carl and Kyle gobbled up Maddy's potatoes. But the Ryersons were unusually quiet over dinner. Carl enjoyed the low buzz gathering in his head after downing a few beers. Maddy noticed how hot it still was, even as night came on, and she was glad she'd slipped on a light sun dress before dinner. Kyle was agitated and distracted by his mom's presence even though she sat on the other side of the table. He couldn't stop noticing the way her large breasts pressed out against the little dress she was wearing, and he thought about how much of her legs showed beneath the dress under the table. If his dad hadn't been there, he thought, he would have leapt across the table and taken her.

But dad was there, so Kyle sat where he was, smoldering.

After they finished dinner, Maddy brought ice cream from the kitchen. The ate it as the night sky grew darker and darker. Soon it was lit only by the stars and a sliver of moon following the sun's path down to the horizon.

When the ice cream was eaten, Carl looked at his phone to check the time.

"That was a long dinner," he said. "It's already 10:30. It'll be time for the shooting stars soon."

"I'll take the dishes in now, then," said Maddy.

"I'll help you, mom," Kyle said.

"Well, don't leave me out here alone," Carl said. "I gotta get another beer, anyhow."

They took their dishes in the house. When they returned to the backyard Carl carried another beer, and Maddy carried a glass of lemonade. Kyle carried a large picnic blanket from the house.

"I thought we could hang out on the lawn and wait until the meteors arrive," he said, spreading the large blanket out over the grass.

Maddy looked askance at the blanket, knowing what her son really had in mind.

But Carl said, "That's a great idea. We'll all get cozy under the stars."

"Where are the meteors supposed to be?" Kyle asked.

"To the northeast," Maddy said. "That's what the article in the newspaper said. That constellation over there, I think." She pointed to a faint cluster of stars about half way up from the horizon, over a tall hedge against the fence.

Carl plopped down on one side of the blanket, lying on his back and looking up to the stars. Maddy took a spot in the middle of the blanket, next to Carl. Kyle sat on the other side of her.

They waited. The air was no longer hot, but it was still warm enough that they felt the sweat linger on their bodies.

"So how many shooting stars are we going to see?" Kyle asked.

"You never know," Carl said. "If it's a good shower you'll see more than one a minute. But if not you'll see them a lot less often. You never know."

11 o'clock arrived, but they saw no shooting stars yet.

"It's not exactly getting off to a banging start," Carl said, letting out a low burp.

"Carl!" Maddy said.

"Excuse my French," Carl said.

Kyle rolled his eyes, unseen to his mom and dad. Dad was drunk again, like the night before. It was embarrassing.

Maddy leaned back to see the stars more easily, and braced herself with her hands behind her. Kyle noticed and put his hand over hers. He gave her fingers a light squeeze and Maddy looked at him in surprise. Without thinking she squeezed his hand back. Then she pulled her hand away and sat up, turning away from Kyle and toward Carl.

Kyle wasn't going to make things easy, she thought.

The Ryersons waited for the meteor shower. Fifteen minutes ticked by. Still no shooting stars. They waited in the dark for the show, growing restless.

Kyle scooted closer to his mom, behind her. He put his hand, which was out of his dad's sight, against his mom's back. The hand drifted down Maddy's back, over the thin fabric of her dress, until it rested just above the cleft between her ass cheeks. Kyle felt the slight, raised bump of Maddy's tiny thong under the material.

Mom's wearing a g-string, he thought. Shit.

His fingers found the vertical part of the string that disappeared between her legs. Then, through the cotton of her dress, he took it between his thumb and forefinger, and he pulled on it. He felt it pulling away from her skin. Then he let it go, and it snapped quietly against her skin.

Maddy felt what Kyle was doing but couldn't do anything in response without tipping off Carl. The snap of the g-string against her back gave her a delicious tingle throughout her body.

Kyle grabbed it again. This time he pulled on it harder, and pulled up. Maddy felt the string between her legs pulled up and into her. The thin material covering her pubis collapsed and sank into the damp depths between her lips. It rubbed against her clit. Maddy wanted to moan, to let Kyle know what he was doing to her, but she couldn't with her husband near her. She sat still on the blanket, but she didn't know how long she could sit that way.

She moved forward, as much away from Kyle as she could on the blanket, and he let go of the g string. Maddy could feel it soaking up the moisture inside her.

Carl made a big slurping noise as he finished his beer. He was feeling no pain and the stars in the sky were taking on a blurry look.

"I don't see any shooting stars, Maddy," he slurred.

"It was supposed to start at 11, but the peak isn't supposed to come until closer to midnight," she replied.

"Midnight?" Carl barked. "Who wants to stay up 'til midnight? I've seen shooting stars before."

"Come on, Carl, let's be patient," Maddy said. "We've never done this as a family before."

Maddy didn't want Carl to leave her alone with Kyle. Unfortunately for her, Kyle didn't share her desire.

"It's O.K., dad," he said. "If you're tired you can go and mom and I will hang out and tell you what they were like in the morning."

Maddy could see Kyle smiling, dimly, through the darkness.

"That sounds like a thoughtful idea, son," Carl said. But he didn't move right away. He craned his head and scanned the sky right and looked for a full minute before giving up.

"Looks like a dud to me," he said. "I'm going in. Don't let me spoil the fun. You two stay out here and let me know later if you see anything."

Carl stood up woozily from the blanket and staggered toward the house.

"Maybe I'll come with you --" Maddy started to say.

"No, no," Carl said. "You stay with Kyle. He hasn't watched a meteor shower before. I'm sure he'd prefer it if you stayed out here with him."

I'm sure he would, Maddy thought. That was the problem.

"We'll keep each other company," Kyle called to his father. "Goodnight, dad!"

"Goodnight!" Carl hollered as he entered the house and shut the door after him.

Maddy was left alone with Kyle in the backyard. She didn't move from the blanket. A voice inside her told her she should get up at once and follow her husband into the house. But she didn't move. Another voice told her to stay.

Before she could decide she felt Kyle's hands on her shoulders.

"Mom, turn around," he said.

"Kyle, we shouldn't do this," Maddy said. "I should go in."

"You could have gone in with dad, mom," Kyle said. "But you didn't. You want to be here. Think how good it felt last night."

Maddy did think about it. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since her night with Kyle on the sofa. Her body trembled at the memory of it. But her mind, which still maintained a semblance of control over her, told her she shouldn't, and that she should get up and go back into the house.

She put a hand on the blanket to push herself up, and she almost rose, but she couldn't quite make herself do it. She could see Kyle's handsome face in the dim light, his cropped blond hair and wide blue eyes. His strong, large hands, which had grabbed her so urgently the night before, seemed poised to do so again.

"Kyle, I don't know --"

"I do," Kyle said. "I do, mom. I want to feel you again. Dad's asleep by now. You know how good it will feel."

Kyle could see the tension and conflict in his mom's face, even in the darkness. She wants it, too, he thought, but she needs to be nudged, not pushed.

Suddenly, something in the night sky overhead caught their attention. The first shooting star of the evening. It burned a white gleaming trail across the sky in the darkness.

"It's a sign, mom," Kyle said. "The stars are telling you I'm right."

"Oh, Kyle, that silly," Maddy said.

But her voice didn't sound completely convinced. The voice inside her -- the voice of her desire, not the voice of her conscience -- wanted to believe it was a sign, too.

"Mom, if that doesn't convince you, I'll tell you what," Kyle said. He looked at his phone. "It's 11:45. Only fifteen minutes to midnight. Between now and then, with every shooting star, you have to take something off. If you're naked by midnight, you'll let me do what I want with you, here on the blanket. And if not, we'll go inside and call it a night. How about it?"

That sounds crazy, Maddy thought. But, on the other hand, the odds seemed to be in her favor. Already it was 11:45, and only one shooting star had appeared. If she could get through the next fifteen minutes with her clothes on, Kyle would leave her alone.

"O.K., I'll do it," she said. "But if I'm still dressed at midnight we'll go to bed and forget about this, and you won't pester me about it anymore."

"It's a deal, mom!" Kyle said.

Maddy immediately regretted agreeing to Kyle's silly deal. She wondered why she hadn't just stood up and walked into the house. She looked at her son, whose blond hair and strong face were lit only faintly by the stars and moon. But Kyle wasn't looking at her. He was looking up, to the northeast, hoping the meteor shower would come to hasten his mother's disrobing.

Maddy looked up too, torn. She could almost feel the force of her son's lust for her from across the blanket. And, she had to admit to herself, she lusted for him, but she was trying as hard as she could to keep her feelings in check. She hoped the stars would hold off until midnight.

They waited for two minutes and nothing happened. The sky was fully dark and the slivery moon was beginning to fall below the western horizon.

Then they saw one -- a faint white streak of light that started halfway up the sky and arced overhead until burning out. Kyle wasted no time.

"Time to take something off, mom," he said.

Maddy wore her dress, and panties, and flip flops on her feet. She had chosen not to wear a bra because of the heat. Now she regretted her decision. It would take only four shooting stars before midnight to get her naked.

She wiggled her foot in the air and the flip flop fell off it onto the blanket. Maddy scooped it up and tossed it to the side.

Kyle took Maddy's outstretched and now unshod foot in his hands, and he bent down and kissed the toes of mom's foot. He had to scoot closer to her to bring it to his mouth. When he did so he first kissed it lightly with puckered lips, but then he took a toe into his mouth and swirled it with his tongue, savoring the salty sweat-taste of her skin.

He held his mom's foot up, off the blanket on the lawn, so he could scan the sky while he sucked on her toe. He didn't want to miss any shooting stars.

To Maddy, the feeling of her son's tongue and mouth on her toe was intoxicating. She could barely concentrate on anything else, but she, too, looked up to the sky, wondering how the stars would dictate her fate with her son.

Kyle had set his cell phone face up on the blanket. He swept it with his finger to see the time again. 11:53. Only 7 minutes to go.

He willed another star to fall from the sky.

And then it did. This one was yellower, and fainter, and it streaked down, a short blur toward the horizon before it burned out. Maddy saw it too.

"Next, mom," Kyle said with a smile and a star-lit gleam in his eye.

Maddy jerked her foot toward the grass and the remaining flip flop flew off her foot and landed a few feet away. Maddy still wore her dress and panties underneath it, but she felt exposed, knowing that two more shooting stars before midnight would leave her naked before her son.

Kyle's whole body tingled with excitement and desire for his mom. He could hardly hold back. He grabbed his mom's newly unshod foot in two hands, and he rubbed his thumbs deeply over the ball of the foot. He saw his mom close her eyes with pleasure at the touch of his strong hands on her feet. He massaged them with his thumb and fingers, all the while keeping his eyes looking at the sky above.

Another few minutes ticked by. To Kyle time hurtled forward, too fast. To Maddy, it wasn't fast enough. She tried hard to focus on the idea that it would be wrong to get naked in front of her son on the back lawn. That part of her willed time to move faster, to reach midnight before another star fell. But another part of her wished differently.

At 11:56 the next star streaked across the sky. This one flew parallel to the horizon, and it seemed to expand just before it stopped and gave out.

Maddy let out a big sigh. What to remove? All she wore were panties and the little dress. She decided to pull the panties off; to Kyle's eyes she would still be decent.

Maddy lifted off the blanket, and with her free hand she reached under the dress to pull off the panties.

They slipped down her legs, and Kyle saw that they were pale blue under the faint star light.

For the first time Maddy noticed how loudly the crickets chirped in the bushes around them. They chirped in a fast, frantic pace in the hot, still night.

"One more star to go, mom," Kyle said, grinning in anticipation.

Maddy sucked in a gulp of air and let it out, nervously. Her conscience and body were at war with each other. One wanted the time to pass without any more stars so she could go inside the house; the other wanted the stars to fall so her son would do whatever he wanted to do to her. She sat nervous and naked under the thin dress on the blanket.

Another minute ticked by, with no stars falling.

Kyle looked at his phone: 1:58; only two minutes to go. He crossed his fingers. Please let this happen, he thought. Oh, please.

Maddy and Kyle waited. They heard the crickets continue chirping and they felt the late-night air, cooler than before but still warm, pressing against their sweat-sticky skin.

11:59. No shooting stars. Kyle ground his teeth. Maddy held her breath.

Kyle held his phone up against the night sky, to watch the time tick by while keeping his eyes alert for the next shooting star.

30 seconds to go. Kyle started counting the seconds. His heart sank. He glanced at his mom and she looked back at him with a look he couldn't read.

15 seconds before midnight, the sky lit up as a burst of flame erupted from the northeast and traced a line in the sky toward them. It expanded before it burned out and disappeared.

Midnight. Kyle looked at his mom.

"Take off your dress, mom," he said, softly.

Maddy didn't even think. The stars had decided her fate, and she obeyed without resisting. She grabbed the hem of her short dress, listed her ass of the ground, and then pulled it up and off her body swiftly. She tossed it to the grass to the side of the blanket.

She sat naked in front of her son, for the second night in a row, this time under the stars.

The moment she tossed her dress aside, she felt the kiss of a cool breeze against her skin, the first she had felt in many days. In the darkness, she could see tree limbs sway and she heard the hiss of wind against the leaves. Perhaps the heat wave had broken. The suddenly cool air against her damp, sweaty skin made goose bumps break out on her arms. She saw Kyle move toward her, and she welcomed his warmth against her.

Kyle looked at his mom on the blanket in the dark before he approached her. She sat demurely, with her knees up and together, and her hands in her lap, but her full breasts were exposed, and her skin glowed faintly under the light of the stars and the candle to the side of them. He moved closer and took her shoulders in his arms and pressed his face against hers. He caught the fresh scent of her hair. Then he kissed her, gently at first, but then more deeply and urgently. She didn't respond at first, but she didn't resist either, and when his tongue entered her mouth he felt hers press back against his.

Kyle held his nude mom in his arms as he kissed her. Then he pulled his face away from hers and he placed his hand under one of her breasts and brought it up to his mouth. He sucked on her nipple. All the feelings of the night before came cascading back -- especially, the deep, urgent need to take her.

Maddy felt those needs too. Since taking her dress off she'd given up her resistance to her son. Her body was his, and she wanted his body on her. She raised her hands and placed them on the back of Kyle's head, to pull him toward her chests so he could suck on her nipples harder. She threw her head back and looked up at the night sky in time to see another meteor shoot across the darkness.

While with one hand he cupped and grabbed the breast that he sucked, Kyle dipped his other hand down between his mother's legs until he found the cleft under her light fur. Mom was wet -- sopping, already. His finger entered her, easily, without resistance, and he curled it up to tickle the flesh of her g spot. Maddy moaned when he did so.

Kyle bit down gently on his mother's nipple and swirled his tongue around it in his mouth. Maddy moaned and squealed at the touch of his mouth on her body. She had to try hard to keep the sound down. The feel of her son's strong hands, kneading and mashing her heavy breasts, was amazing. A need to exclaim her need and desire welled up from within her, but she felt the need to suppress it so her husband wouldn't hear it.

Whatever Maddy's hesitation and restraint, her son took her body with abandon, grabbing her and kissing her wherever and however he wanted. Without thinking Maddy spread her legs open for Kyle. But he didn't take her like that. Instead, he grabbed his mom's thighs in his hands and pushed them to the side. At first puzzled, Maddy figured out quickly what Kyle wanted. She turned over, putting her knees and hands on the blanket and turning her ass to her son. She arched her back, and she spread her legs further apart. She pushed her ass back and up toward Kyle's view.

The starlight illumined little, but it lighted enough for Kyle to see his mom's upturned ass, and the sweet puckered hole between her cheeks, and the needy and partly opened cleft of her vulva. His cock was hard and long, and he directed it to his mom's cleft. With no further delay, he pushed it into her and he heard his mom moan as his cock slipped between her wet folds and sank deeply into her.

Maddy had wanted to resist her son, but she couldn't do it. Now she just wanted the feeling of him inside her, thrusting hard and fast. She threw her head back and closed her eyes and savored the hard thrust of her son's flesh inside her.

But then he stopped, almost as soon as he began. Kyle withdrew his cock from her. As much as he wanted to fuck his mom, he wanted something else more, for the moment at least.

Maddy felt her body twisted and turned in her son's strong hands, seemingly with no effort. She marveled at his strength and his ability to do with her body whatever he wanted. Kyle flipped her around, and he cupped her ass in his hand and lifted it off the grass. Maddy saw her son's face between her legs and she spread them wider. Now only her back and shoulders and outstretched arms remained in contact with the cool grass; her ass was in the air and being pulled toward her son's eager face, his mouth open and hungry.

Kyle pushed his mouth against his mom's open vulva. The need to taste his mom's cunt was overwhelming, and irresistible. The lips were spread wide, so with no effort he could push his tongue deep inside her at once. He pushed the tip of it as deeply as he could, into her moist depths, and then he flickered his tongue back and forth, inside his mom, and he pulled back so he could savor the taste of her outer lips. In turn, he took each lip of his mom's between his teeth, and he bit down gently, wanting to mark her and claim her. Then he ran his tongue up and down in broad sweeps between her sopping and needy gash. When his tongue found his mom's clit, hard and pert, it lapped and swirled against it.

Maddy moaned and squealed throughout her son's oral assault on her sex. Carl had never done anything like this; no one had. Kyle's mouth and tongue slurped into and over the most intimate folds of her flesh; they consumed her, and she wanted nothing more than to feed them to her son. The rough movement of his mouth and tongue on her made her shudder a little, and then shudder more. His tongue found some new place in her, never touched before, and suddenly Maddy erupted, her hips bucking against her son's mouth, and she came.

Maddy orgasmed in sharp, short waves, and from some unknown place inside her fluid erupted and spurted against Kyle's mouth and his face. He felt the surge of his mom's wetness over his mouth and his cheeks even as he tried to contain it in his mouth, which he opened wide to take in the wetness that was spurting uncontrollably from her. He contained some of it, but not all of it, but what he contained he slurped and drank and swallowed with relish.

Mom's squirting, Kyle thought. Oh my god.

Kyle's tongue moved rapidly over his mom's cunt to drink it all up. Soon he was done. He knew what he needed.

Kyle moved his mouth away from his mom and he turned her over again. He wanted her ass in the air, and he wanted to see the wet, open, dripping folds of her cunt between her ass cheeks before he pushed his cock inside her.

Maddy obliged and let her body be guided by Kyle's hands and his needs. She felt her body getting flipped over and her ass pushed up in the air again and her knees spread apart on the grass, and she waited for the feel of her son against and inside her.

She didn't wait long. The bulb of his hard cock pushed between the lips of her vulva and pressed deeply inside her. Her body let him in eagerly. She moaned again. Kyle pushed, and his cock slid in all the way easily against the slippery walls of his mom's cunt.

Kyle groaned with pleasure when he had pushed as far as he could. He held is cock like that for a moment without moving, so he could enjoy the sensation of being buried as deep within his mother as he could. Then he began pulling out. He looked down and in the dim starlight saw his mom's pussy lips clinging wetly to his cock as it moved out of her. He didn't pull all the way. He pulled just far enough to see his mom's lips stretching and clinging to the pink head of his cock.

Then he pushed back into her, hard.

He felt his mom's whole body shift forward with a grunt as he pushed into her.

Maddy took Kyle's cock, eagerly and hungrily, into her cunt. She pushed her ass against him as he pushed against her, but he was bigger and stronger and his thrusts pushed her down and forward in the grass. The fingers of her hands splayed wide among the blades of grass, their green dimmed by the night and low light of the crescent moon at the sky's horizon. She dug her fingers into the lawn to steady herself, so she could hold fast, and so her son could enter her as deeply as possible. She threw her head back and stared into the night sky above her as Kyle fucked her pussy. Another star shot across the sky.

Kyle's hands dug in harder into his mom's hips. Kyle was an animal, and his lovely mom was an animal too, on all fours on the grass, her ass upturned and exposed to him. He felt his mom's pussy gushing with wetness, lubricating his rapid thrusts in and out of her.

Mom, oh mom, he thought.

Nothing could be better than the consuming desire that welled up with every thrust.

Kyle pushed harder and faster. He felt the moment coming. With a few more thrusts it came. Kyle felt the surge inside him, and then he felt it leave him: heavy spasms of thick wetness gushering forth and filling his mom. He felt one gusher after another. He kept fucking her, so as much of his seed as possible would fill his mom.

Maddy felt her son's seed inside her. She shuddered and she came, again. Her body shivered and shook so violently that she almost pushed Kyle outside of her, but she pushed back against him with what control she had left to ensure he stayed inside her. She let out a long, low sigh as her body shook with orgasm. Kyle kept spurting inside her.

Kyle watched his mom's body fall to the grass as her orgasm subsided. His spent cocked pulled out of and away from her pussy, and as it pulled outside of her he saw dribbles of his cum leaving her and dripping from her onto the lawn.

Kyle was done but not yet soft. He wanted to feel himself inside his mom still, but in a different position. He grabbed her ass and pushed it to the side and on the lawn, and then he took her thighs again and spread them open as his cock once again found the wet opening of her well-used cunt. He pushed inside, his mom on her back and her legs lifted over her son's head into the night.

Maddy felt a cool breeze on her cheek. The heat wave had broken at last. Her hair spilled around her face at the movement of the air and she drew closer to her son so his body would keep her warm.

In the dim evening light Maddy saw her son's eyes boring into hers.

Maddy lay on the grass with her legs wrapped around her son and her fingernails dug into his shoulders. Kyle's length still filled her. She looked beyond Kyle, into the vast darkness above. Maddy wondered if she would ever be able to resist her son. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe, instead, he would fuck her whenever he wanted to.

She guessed that he would. She guessed that she would want that, too.

As if in answer, a star streaked across the infinite sky..

191 My Mom is a Hot Mom

SimonDoom

Growing up, I never thought my mom was hot.

My friends did. Tucker, one of my best friends, started using that word to describe her when we were sophomores in high school. One day, when he came over to my house, he saw my mom in a bikini sitting by the pool in the backyard. His jaw almost fell off his face. When we went inside the house, and we were sitting around doing nothing in my room, he kept saying, "Randy, your mom is so hot!" It annoyed me to hear him say it, because I didn't like to think of her that way, and I didn't want my friends to think or talk about her that way, either.

I told Tucker it annoyed me, but that didn't stop him. On the contrary, it egged him on. It wasn't just Tucker, either. Mason and Alex said the same thing, over and over and over again. Even though I didn't think of her that way, I spent most of my high school years hearing that I was the guy with the hot mom. My house was the one that my friends always wanted to come over to. I think the main reason was that they wanted to see my mom.

No question about it, my mom was pretty. She was only 21 when I was born, so, as moms went, she was young, and she kept her figure trim and firm by lifting weights and doing yoga at the gym, running several times a week, and playing tennis. Mom, whose name was Inga, was tall and lean but shapely. She had athletic legs, sculpted and lightly muscled. I never asked her, but I guessed, from what I could see on the Internet as a reference point, that her bust size was in the neighborhood of a firm, perky C-cup. I knew that when she had been in high school she'd been voted homecoming princess, and it was easy to see why, with her long, wavy, darkish blond hair, full lips, and bottle-green eyes.

Because of my mom's active and athletic lifestyle, my friends knew that if they hung around long enough at my house there was a good chance they'd see her coming or going in a little tennis skirt, or in running shorts and a tight, nylon top, or in form-fitting yoga pants. After a while, it felt like my friends were timing their arrival at my house to coincide with the best opportunity to catch my mom in a skimpy, sporty outfit.

But I never looked at my mom that way. To me, she always was just mom. And she was a great mom: attentive, loving, supportive, and kind. She had a job in the human resources department of a big company nearby, and she worked there four days a week, but she still found time to do all the usual mom things well: she cooked, she washed the laundry, she kept the house clean, among other things. I always thought my mom was the greatest mom in the world. Despite what my friends said, though, I never thought of her as hot.

Until I turned 19.

When I was 18 years old, and had just been graduated from high school, my parents suddenly separated because my dad cheated on my mom. Dad always had been a good dad to me, but it had been obvious for a while that something was wrong between my parents. Dad was away at the office a lot, and eventually he confessed to mom that he'd been having an affair with his 24-year old secretary. He wanted to leave mom, and he did, abruptly.

Fortunately, my parents were able to negotiate an amicable settlement, and the divorce was granted within 9 months of the separation without too much acrimony. By that time, I was 19 years old. I was enrolled at a local college, and I also worked part-time selling TVs and computers at the local Best Deal store. I'd always known my way around computers, phones, and other devices, and I also knew how to persuade people to do things, so it was a good job for me. I didn't make enough to support myself and put myself through college completely, but it helped a lot to lighten the burden for mom and dad, and it gave me some discretionary income.

After the separation, dad moved out of the house and into an apartment that he shared with his girlfriend. I stayed in the house with mom. It was just the two of us. We lived in a one-story, ranch-style house in a suburban area on the fringe of a large city. My bedroom was on one end of the house; mom's bedroom was on the other. It worked out well for both of us. I got a free room. Mom got someone to keep her company after the separation and to help take care of a house too big for one.

One of the appealing things about the house, for me, was that it was located near the edge of the neighborhood, which abutted an expanse of hills that remained undeveloped. The hills were interlaced with fire roads and dirt trails. I had inherited my mom's fondness for running, so as often as I could I put on my running shoes, exited the house, and headed to the hills to run.

One afternoon, after I had finished my college classes and come home, I went for a run. It was a warm day in early September. It was warm enough that I decided to run without a shirt. I often ran without a shirt when the weather was warm enough; I had been doing so since being a member of my high school's cross-country team. It wasn't an exhibitionist thing; it was just comfortable for me.

I hit the running trail and headed up a steep incline, wearing black nylon shorts, socks, and running shoes. I also wore a GPS watch that would track my time, pace, and distance. My cell phone was velcroed to my right bicep, allowing me to stream music through tiny headphones stuck to my ears. I'd cued up a playlist of songs by Slipknot, one of my favorite bands. I liked to run to the sound of hard, pulsing rock music.

After about twenty minutes my body was covered in sweat. I was running well, my limbs loose and strong. This was my favorite part of the run, the part where I was warmed up but not yet tired. The sun beat down on me in a cloudless sky, but the glare was no problem because of my sunglasses.

The trail on which I ran curved up the hill. I reached the crest with steady effort, and before me lay a smooth, flatter stretch, with some oak trees scattered around.

On the trail before me, I noticed a woman for the first time. She was running too, about 200 yards ahead of me. She was running more slowly than I was, but, still, she was running with grace and vigor. I picked up my pace, estimating I would catch up to her in a few minutes if I kept doing so. As I drew closer to her I saw her more clearly.

I confess I had a mild fetish for women in running outfits. As a former high school cross-country runner, I had been around runners of both sexes for a long time, and I had developed a keen eye for the way shorts and tops hugged and set off a woman's limbs and curves. The woman ahead of me wore blue shorts and a white shirt. The shorts were quite short, with probably no more than a 3-inch inseam, and they fit her snugly, accentuating the length and leanness of her legs. As I drew closer to her from behind, I saw the contraction of her thigh and shin muscles with every step. She was a graceful runner. Not all runners are. Some runners plod. Others run with short, jerky steps. This woman's stride was both fluid and feral, like that of an animal to whom running came naturally.

As I drew still closer to her, I saw her butt more closely. It was pert and round, like a ripe apple. Her hips, though not wide, nonetheless contrasted with the narrowness of her waist. Her little T-shirt didn't fully cover her. As she ran, the bottom hem of her shirt moved up and down, momentarily exposing glimpses of the skin of her back just over the waistband of her little shorts.

Her blondish hair, gathered in a ponytail that poked out from the back of a white cap, flew and bobbed after her as she ran.

I couldn't see her face, but from behind she was nice to look at, and the sight of her spurred me to run faster so I could catch up with her. I picked up my pace. I started rehearsing what I might say to her as I caught up to her. If the front of her looked anything like the back, I thought to myself, she was hot. The word "hot" escaped my lips in a breathy whisper as I ran to catch up with her.

Both of us ran for several minutes like that: her ahead of me, running slowly, and me, running faster and closing the distance between us. I drew closer and closer to her. So far, she had not turned around or noticed me.

When I was about 50 yards from her, I suddenly noticed something. It startled me so much that it almost stopped me cold.

The woman running in front of me was my mom.

At first, I couldn't believe it. But it was true. I had been running after my mom, admiring her and even thinking of her as hot, and I hadn't even realized it was her.

I had seen my mom in running outfits before, as she left the house. But I never had seen her running, out on the road, or on the trails. I hadn't recognized her stride, either. Nor had I recognized this particular running outfit.

Although I almost stopped, I didn't. Instead I kept pace with her. It didn't look like she had noticed me yet. I was able to look at her, running on the trail ahead of me, while she didn't even know I was there.

I just called my mom 'hot,' I thought to myself.

She was hot. I would never have guessed the woman running ahead of me was 40. The first sight of her had hit me with a wave of lust, and the wave lingered and washed over me even after I had recognized her. I was close enough to her now that I could see the cheeks of her butt clenching with every stride under tight-fitting shorts. I saw the thinness of her waist, and the V-shape of her lean but muscular back from waist to shoulders. I felt a twinge of guilt feeling this way. But I also felt the same thrill I got from looking at any sexy woman. It was the first time I had ever looked at my mom this way, and it was both embarrassing and exciting.

I realized it would be weird if I hung back too long running behind her, so I picked up my pace to catch up with her. It didn't take me long.

When I was about 30 feet behind her, I knew she would be able to hear my steps and my breathing, so I called to her.

"Mom! Wait up!"

She slowed and stopped and turned around at the sound of my voice.

"Well, hey there, Randy," she said. "I didn't expect to see you. I thought you were working this afternoon."

She gave me a big smile, full of white teeth. Her eyes were not hidden behind sunglasses, as mine were. She stood half-way turned around toward me, giving me a view of her figure in profile, with her shoulders thrown back and her breasts high and firm, jutting nearly straight from her thin chest. As I closed the distance between us I noticed that although the shorts were cute the t-shirt was a little frayed and ratty looking. I was surprised for a moment that mom would go outdoors in something like that; she usually was careful with her appearance and dress.

"No work today," I replied. "Just school. I finished at 1 so I came home to run. I didn't expect to see you on the trail."

She looked me up and down.

"I didn't realize you liked to run without a shirt. You're looking pretty fit." She poked me in the stomach. "Impressive," she added.

I wasn't very muscular, but I was lean and I had good definition. I knew I could pull off the shirtless look, but it was funny to hear it from mom.

"Thanks, mom," I said. "You're looking pretty hot yourself."

That word again. As soon as I said it, I regretted it. The word hung in the air and an awkward silence followed.

I stammered. "I just mean, you look really good. It's good to see you take care of yourself."

She looked at me with a sly smile and a raised eyebrow.

"But, mom," I followed up. "That shirt. It's seen better days. You need to get yourself some new running gear. Seriously."

She pulled the bottom of the shirt out and away from her torso to run her thumb over a frayed edge. I got a glimpse of her taut belly. I felt a little "zing!" inside at the sight. It was a weird feeling.

"I suppose you're right," she said. Then she let go of it and looked up.

"How about we stop talking about fashion and keep running," she said. "Want to join me?"

"Sounds like a good idea," I said. We resumed running, this time together.

Mom was in a chatty mood, and we talked steadily the next few miles about my schoolwork and about recent movies. We ran in a broad loop of about three miles, at the end of which we were back on the crest of the hill. The sun was getting low on the horizon, and it bathed the hill in a honeyed yellow hue. It was the start of the golden hour, the best time of day to take photographs, as I knew from my limited experience as a photographer. Mom and I stopped for a moment and looked ahead of us and down on our neighborhood below, at the bottom of the hill.

I pulled the cell phone out of the Velcro strap.

"Here, let me take a selfie of us. The light's good," I said.

I drew close to mom and wrapped my left arm around her shoulder. We were both sweaty, me especially so, so I held her lightly. I held the phone out with my right hand and snapped the photo.

I looked at mom with her face toward the setting sun and a scrubby oak tree behind her.

"I'll take one of just you," I said.

"Oh, please, Randy, don't do that," she said. "I'm a mess."

"Well then, you're a hot mess," I said and grinned. She rolled her eyes.

"I insist," I said.

Mom didn't protest again. Instead, she pushed her shoulders back and thrust one leg out and in front of her. She cocked her hip a little and put her hands down just below her hips. Mom acted like she didn't want her picture taken, but she knew how to pose. She smiled without opening her mouth and her eyes shined. Even after running several miles and working up a sweat, mom was a beauty.

Snap.

"There, I'm done," I said. "Thanks for indulging me."

"You're welcome," she said. "Just promise me you'll delete it if I look terrible."

"That's not possible," I said. "Now let's run."

We ran down the hill trail together and back to the house. Before we went inside, mom said that we should do some stretching. I often skipped stretching after a run. I knew I shouldn't skip it, but I figured I was young and limber and I could get away with it.

But mom insisted, and before I could protest she turned around and put her hands against the wall, brought one foot forward, and pushed her bottom out and away from the wall, in my direction.

I needed no more convincing.

We had gone around the side of the house to the backyard, where mom kept a key to the house under a pot. While mom was stretching against the wall, I put my hands against a patio post and stretched my calves. I wrestled with the desire to look at her behind, and I tried to focus on my stretching. But I didn't succeed. Mom was turned the other way, giving me the chance to sneak a peek at her without her knowing. So, I did. The first thing I noticed was the way her firm, round bottom stretched against the thin nylon of her short shorts. Each cheek was perfectly sculpted in blue. Mom's stretching caused the shorts to ride higher on her bottom -- high enough that I could see the inner lining of her running shorts peeking out, and under that I even could make out a sliver of the exposed skin of a butt cheek.

Mom's legs, nicely tanned after a summer full of outdoor activities, stretched lean and long behind her. Mom lifted on her toes, and the motion accentuated her calf muscles. As I mentioned before, I have a lot of experience running with women, and I appreciate the sight of a fit woman. Mom was very fit.

She pushed away from the wall and started to turn toward me so I turned my own head away quickly and focused on my stretch. I didn't want mom to see me ogling her. We spent a few more minutes like that, stretching, my thoughts jumbled and conflicted, and then mom grabbed the key and we went inside.

When we got in the house, we both went to the kitchen. I grabbed a Coke out of the refrigerator, and mom grabbed a bottled water. I popped the tab on my drink and started guzzling it immediately, but mom just held the bottled water up to her forehead with her eyes closed for a few moments.

The air in the house was cool, and it felt even cooler against skin lathered in sweat. The cool air had a noticeable impact on mom. Even under the sturdy fabric of her running bra, her nipples popped out noticeably against the frayed cotton of her shirt. Mom's eyes still were closed as I looked at her. She carried all her weight on one leg, with the other leg bent forward. Her shirt rode up, exposing a band of skin on her tummy again. She looked sexy, I thought to myself, even as I simultaneously told myself I shouldn't be thinking such things.

She opened her eyes and caught me looking at her, so I looked away quickly. It was bad enough that I was starting to look at my mom the way my friends had. It was even worse if she saw me doing it.

When I looked back at her she was checking out the shirt again.

"I guess this thing is a little ratty," she said. "I could stand to spiff up my running wardrobe. What do you suggest?"

Mom didn't know it, but she was not making it easy on me by talking about her clothing while standing in the sweaty running shorts and shirt.

"I don't know, mom," I said. "The running store nearby has everything. You should get something synthetic, though -- not cotton. A technical shirt, or a tank top, or a jog bra."

"Yeah," she said. "I don't think this 40-year-old body is going running in just a jog bra. That might be a little much."

"I've seen Judy Havens, Alex's mom, running in just a jog bra," I said. "She's older than you are, and nowhere near as good looking."

"Judy? Really? I haven't seen that. I'm surprised. Wouldn't you be embarrassed to see me running around in just a bra?"

"Embarrassed? No," I said. "I see that all the time. It's no big deal. You could pull it off a lot better than most women. But whatever. It's up to you."

I found the image in my mind of my mom running in tiny shorts and a running bra extremely compelling, but I didn't want to act like it in front of her. That would be too strange.

"Well, thank you, I guess," mom said. "I'll run over to the store sometime over the next few days and get something."

She finished her water and set it down.

"Now it's shower time," she said.

Thinking about mom in a jog bra reminded me that I needed a shower, too. I headed off to the bathroom on my end of the house, while mom headed off to hers.

Standing under the hot water streaming over my body a few minutes later, I couldn't stop thinking about my mom in the kitchen, in her skimpy outfit and pert, erect nipples visible under the old shirt. I had never thought of my mom this way before, but now I couldn't stop. Mom was hot. I couldn't deny it. Those legs, lean and supple, and the way her calf muscle popped into relief when she stretched her legs and pointed her toes. The firm perkiness of her breasts under the tight, raggedy tee shirt.

I lathered my body with soap, and I ran my hand with the soap bar down between my legs to

wash off there. I ran my hand up and down my cock to wash it and the image of my mom in the jog bra popped up again. My cock thickened suddenly and noticeably and I ran my hand up and down its length a few more times, my mind focused on the picture of my bra-clad mom.

I became aware of what I was doing and stopped.

No, I thought. I am not going to jerk off to thoughts of my mom. I am not going to do that. That's going too far. I've got to set some boundaries over this.

With that admonition in mind I hurried up and finished my shower, got out, and toweled off. I looked around the bathroom. I had forgotten to bring a change of clothes to put on. Worse, I knew there was nothing in my room because mom had just done the laundry and hadn't put it away yet.

I wrapped the towel around my waist. The laundry room was near the kitchen, so I padded along the floor in my bare feet to retrieve something to wear.

I passed by the kitchen, and mom already was there. She was wearing gray cotton shorts and a long sleeve, gray cotton top with a big scoop neck over what looked like a white tank top. She was in her bare feet, too. She had a clutch of pasta noodles in her hand and already was busy making dinner. She looked up from her task at me and smiled.

I was aware I was standing in front of my mom, naked but for a bath towel. I'm not conceited about my looks, but I'm not shy about my body, either. I'd been in a towel in front of my mom before, and it was not a big deal. But with all the new thoughts this afternoon about my mom being hot, it suddenly felt different being exposed this way. It never had occurred to me to think about how I looked to my mom undressed. But it did now. I had looked at her as a woman, and I wondered how she looked at me as a young man. The towel was low on my waist and showed off my lean torso, and my well-defined abdominal muscles. I didn't have big biceps or triceps, but my shoulders were broad. I didn't have a lot of body hair, so I knew my smooth, lean, hard chest was exposed to her. I wondered what I looked like to her.

"Looking for something to wear?" she asked me. Her eyes strayed from mine to my bare chest, and back.

"Yeah, sorry, just headed for the laundry room," I said.

"No apology necessary," she said with a grin.

I scurried off to the laundry room and fished some long shorts and a t-shirt out of dryer. For some reason, I decided to skip the underwear. I pulled the warm clothes on quickly, dropped the damp towel in a hamper, and headed back to the kitchen.

Mom and I chatted more about my classes. I hadn't settled on a major -- I had no idea what I was going to do after college -- and, so far, my class choices had no rhyme or reason to them: econ, computer science, art history, to name a few. I sensed that mom was, gently, trying to encourage me to focus on what I was going to do with my life. She didn't make any headway that evening.

When the pasta was cooked we sat down at the table to eat dinner and a salad I helped her make, and mom pulled out a bottle of red wine. I wasn't much of a wine drinker, but she assured me it was something good -- a pinot noir -- so I took a glass and drank it with dinner.

After dinner, I helped mom clear the table and put the dishes in the sink. Once that was done, mom picked up the wine bottle, which still was about half full, and the two drained wine glasses.

"Randy, let's sit in the living room and chat," she said.

"Sounds good to me, mom," I said.

We sat together on a spacious, comfy sofa in the living room, mom at one end, and me about two-thirds of the way toward the other end. Mom put her back against the arm of the sofa and stretched her legs out toward me. I could not help but check out her outstretched legs in the little gray shorts. The other thing I noticed about the shorts was that, although they weren't long, they were somewhat loose, and the holes of the legs fit her legs loosely. A broad expanse of the smooth skin of her upper thigh lay visible under the shorts. One leg was bent up, while the other was bent and lay on the sofa, with her foot curled under the other leg.

She poured wine into our glasses and set the bottle down on the side table behind her. She clinked her glass against mine and said "Cheers." I said "Cheers" in reply.

"So, Randy, I haven't heard about your love life lately. Anything going on in that department?"

Being quizzed about girls by my mother wasn't the most comfortable way to begin a conversation, but it wasn't something we'd talked about for a while. It was fair for her to ask.

"Not much going on. The semester just started. I've been to a couple of parties but haven't met anyone."

I had dated a girl at my school named Tilly during the summer, but we'd broken a few weeks before the fall semester started. I'd hooked up with another girl after a party right after school started, but I didn't really want to talk to my mom about that.

"I'm not really in a hurry right now. It will happen when it happens," I said. "What about you, mom? When are you going to start dating?"

"I'm surprised you ask," she said. "Are you OK with me starting to date?"

"Of course, mom. I want you to be happy. Dad's been seeing what's her name since you two broke up. It's only fair you get to have some fun too."

The truth was, it would be strange to see my mom dating someone, but it had been over a year since the breakup, and I hated to see mom be lonely.

Mom didn't reply to me right away. She looked at me, her eyes still and barely blinking, appraising me in some way or for something; I couldn't tell what.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You don't act 19," she said. "You don't seem 19 to me. You've never seemed like your age." She looked off to the side, her eyes focused somewhere, far away.

"I remember taking you to the playground when you were five years old. You'd play with the other kids. I didn't have to worry about that. But the thing I remember is that you'd walk up to the other adults sitting on the benches watching their kids, and you'd start talking to them. You'd charm them. You'd carry on long conversations with them, even as a little kid. You were a little adult, even then. And now you are a real adult, and you seem a lot older than you are. I look at you and I don't see a 19-year old."

She was quiet for half a minute and we both sipped our wine.

"I've thought about dating. I've kept myself busy with work, and with you, and working out, so until now I haven't thought about it much. But I think I'm ready. I even checked out an online dating site. I realized I don't have any good recent photos of myself to set up a profile."

"I could help you with that, mom. I know how to use a camera," I said.

"Yes, I know. You're quite handy with that, like with a lot of things."

She beamed a big smile at me, and then she noticed that her glass and mine were empty again.

"Time for a refill," she said. She twisted her torso to the side and stretched back to grab the wine bottle behind her head. And I just couldn't help but run my eyes up and down the smooth thigh stretched out closest to me -- the long expanse of unblemished, lightly-tanned, supple skin. My eyes kept following the curve of her leg to her inner thigh, where it disappeared under the loose-fitting cotton shorts.

Only, it didn't completely disappear. The shorts were loose and the leg hole had popped open. And that's when I saw it.

My god, I thought. Mom isn't wearing panties.

My view extended all the way to the skin between her legs. I actually caught a glimpse of well-trimmed dark blonde hair. The pussy itself was just out of view.

And then mom reached back just a little more, to get the wine bottle. The opening in the shorts grew a little wider -- just enough to see a puff of pussy lip, and beyond that a brief but glorious glimpse at the shy slit of her pussy.

I was looking at my mom's pussy.

It was just a glimpse. It lasted no more than a second, because it took little more than that for her to grab the wine bottle and start turning back to me. But the sight of it was burned into my brain. My mom's pussy. I'd never seen it before. We weren't a prudish family, but we weren't nudists, either. I'd never seen my mom naked. Now, I had seen her pussy. I could never un-see it. Nor would I want to.

I felt a sharp stiffening under my shorts immediately. Right away, I regretted not wearing underwear. I was aroused, instantly, and it would be difficult to conceal the fact.

I'd been sitting with my feet on the sofa toward mom. I brought my legs up and bent them to hide what I knew, very soon, would be a raging erection.

"You all right?" mom asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I think my, uh, foot fell asleep."

"Well, here, let me have your glass." Mom poured the rest of the contents of the bottle into our glasses.

Mom took a few sips in quiet and then looked at me again.

"So, you think I should try the online dating thing?" she asked.

To be honest, I had mixed feelings about that. I did want mom to be happy, and I knew that eventually she would want another man in her life. I knew also that because she was beautiful and charming she would have plenty of options. But I had enjoyed having mom to myself. I had a hard time imagining a man who would be good enough for her. It was a strange feeling, coming from a son, but I felt a twinge of jealousy at the idea of her being with other men. But I wasn't going to say that to her. I wanted to be supportive.

"I think you should give it a try," I said. "You'll have no problem finding men to date."

"That's what I worry about," she said. "From what I've heard, most of the really eligible men on these sites are looking for women a lot younger. Like your dad. I'm not really looking forward to that. I want to dad somebody my age, not somebody who's sixty."

"Mom, I don't think you are going to have a problem. You don't look like a normal 40-year-old. You're beautiful. You keep yourself in great shape and look really young. Even my friends say so."

"Well, that's sweet of you. It's nice to hear. After the divorce and your father leaving me -- it was hard. Hard on my self-confidence. My self-image. I've sometimes felt over-the-hill at the age of 40. It's not a good feeling."

"You sure as hell don't have to worry about that, mom. You're anything but over the hill. "

"Thanks," she said. She cracked a little smile. "That's funny what you said about your friends. I always knew Tucker had a little crush on me. He was always tongue tied when I was around. It was very cute."

"Yeah, he thought you were more than a little cute. He always said you were 'hot.' It got kind of annoying. Not that you weren't," I added quickly. "It just was annoying to have a friend talk that way about my mom."

"I know what you mean," she said. "I seem to remember overhearing him say that once. It was sweet. And flattering."

"You're very pretty, mom," I said. "If you set up a dating profile right you'll have no problem getting eligible men interested. I can help you by taking some nice photos of you."

"I accept your offer, Randy. Thanks."

I got an idea.

"I'll take a photo of you right now," I said, reaching for my phone, lying on the sofa behind me.

"No, Randy, I haven't prepared for it. I don't even have makeup on."

"You don't need it, mom. You look great. And this lighting actually is pretty good."

It was. It was nighttime, but the room was well lit, and the camera on the phone was good enough that it would take a good photo in moderate, indoor lighting without too much graininess showing up in the resulting photographs.

"OK, then," she said. "How should I pose?"

I took charge. I enjoyed my mom asking me to tell her what to do.

"Sit up straight. Put your arm on the back of the sofa. Shoulders back. Like that. Try a couple of different positions with your legs. Point your toes."

One of my classes the previous year had been a photography class, and I had gotten some experience photographing models, so I was familiar with at least the rudiments of posing, and of directing.

I had mom assume several different positions and took photos of her. I didn't want her to try to look sexy, because that wasn't the right sort of look for an online profile. I was focusing on her face. Mom had a beautiful smile, with white even teeth, and her eyes lit up when she smiled, as well. But even as I focused on her face, and tried to get a good portrait shot, I couldn't help but notice her lithe figure in the gray shorts and top. It occurred to me as well, for the first time that evening -- I didn't think she was wearing a bra. I wasn't certain, because she was wearing both a tank top and a long sleeve top over that, but I didn't see a hint of a bra strap, and there was something about the natural slope and curve of her breasts under the top that suggested she had no artificial support.

She doesn't need it, I thought to myself.

A few more snaps and I was done.

I was having a great time with mom, and I never had felt this way in her presence before -- so aware of her as a woman, and not just as mom. It was thrilling, and arousing. I was aware that I still had a hard-on, and I had gotten careless about trying to hide it. I thought that by now she must have noticed it, but if she had she wasn't giving anything away.

She patted me on the knee.

"I'm going to clean up," she said. She stood up and took my empty wine glass and walked to the kitchen.

"I'll help," I said.

"No, I'll do it. You probably have school work to do."

Actually, I didn't. I was pretty good about getting homework done quickly, and I'd finished it quickly at school after my last class was done.

At the moment, it was hard to think about homework, because when mom had gotten up and walked to the kitchen I'd been given a nice view of her pert ass in the gray shorts, and all I could think about was the absence of panties under them, and the lack of any panty line. Mom's ass was perfect -- firm, round, and sculpted. I knew she did squats and other exercises at the gym to keep it in shape, and whatever she did, it worked.

The sight didn't help my hard on, though. If I stood up and followed her to the kitchen to help it would be impossible to hide the conspicuous tent under my shorts. I decided to take mom up on her offer and retreat to my room instead.

"Thanks for dinner, mom. I'm going to my room to get some work done. I'll process the photos for you, too."

I had partly turned myself around to hide my erection as I talked. Mom turned back to me, and I'm not sure if I successfully hid my hard-on, or not.

"It was nice to chat with you, Randy. I appreciate your support. Love you."

"Love you, too, mom."

I walked the rest of the way to my room, my erection straining against my shorts.

I shut my bedroom door behind me and walked to my desk. I sat down with the computer screen in front of me. I unzipped my shorts, and my cock popped up and out, standing up straight. It was a relief not to have it straining against the shorts anymore.

The computer already was turned on. I connected the phone to the computer with a USB cable and downloaded the photos. I scrolled through them.

The first one was the one I'd taken of us during our run, which turned out well. Then I saw the one I took of just her, on the hill, in the glow of sunset. She looked beautiful, like a model.

I scrolled further, through the photos I'd taken of her on the sofa. I was glad to see they'd turned out well. The light had been good enough, and her face was lit up with a beautiful smile. Several of them would be good enough to get a good dating site portrait shot.

I scrolled a little more, and then I stopped.

I hadn't planned to take any sexy photos of mom on the sofa, and I hadn't directed her to pose provocatively. But I had taken a photo of her when she had been shifting from one position to the other. In this photo, she was sitting up, with one leg bent up and pressed against the back of the sofa, and the other leg bent and lying against the sofa seat. Her legs were spread open in this photo, and the angle stretched the shorts open, just as before -- but even more so.

The shorts were spread open wide enough that mom's pussy was on display in the photo.

I had no idea I had done it at the time, but I had taken a photograph of my mother's pussy.

I could see the dark blond fuzz. The curtain matched the drapes.

I could see smooth outer lips, and inside them the thinner inner lips, pressed lightly together. The inviting vertical slit lay between them. I looked more closely, and I could swear that at one place in the dark slit, the lips parted a little, and there was just a glint of a pale color, where light from behind me must have reflected off moisture inside her.

If my cock had been hard before, it was like a rocket ship on the launch pad now, primed and ready for takeoff. My hand flew to it and seized it. I had stopped stroking myself to thoughts of mom in the shower earlier in the evening, but there was no way I could stop this time. I didn't care if it was wrong.

I thought about grabbing some lotion to help the process, but I didn't want to get up and take my eyes off mom's image. And, I didn't need it. Already, a dollop of precum lay over the hole at the top of my cock. With two more quick up and down strokes I milked more precum from my cock, and the resulting milky flow was enough to lubricate my length to do the job. I knew it wasn't going to take long, anyway.

I've gotten good at controlling how fast I come, and I haven't gotten a lot of complaints about coming too quickly, but I knew I was going to come fast this time. The sight of my beautiful mother smiling at me with those shining eyes, and her legs spread wide apart and her pussy fully on display for me, was too much for me to hold back.

I pumped away furiously, eyes transfixed on the picture before me, my thoughts a jumble of lust and desire. The dam had broken. I'd never thought of my mom as hot before this day, and now I didn't think I'd ever be able to look at her any other way.

God, you're so hot, mom, I thought. Your pussy, mom. Your hot pussy. Your wet cunt. Spread and on display for me. I love you, mom. You and your hot, wet, open pussy. You like that, don't you? Showing off your gaping, steaming fuck hole to your son, stroking his cock for you? You want me to come for you, don't you? Come on you? I'm going to do it, mom. I'm going to come for you and your wet pussy.

I felt just a twinge of guilt letting myself indulge these thoughts about my mom. My sweet mom. My loving mom. The woman who had given birth to me, raised me, cared for me. Now I was staring at her pussy and jerking off to her like she was a Hustler model. Yes, I can say that in that moment I felt guilty. A little bit. But not too much. Not enough to stop. In truth, I loved it. I loved the sight of my mom spread that way. I couldn't get enough of it.

My hand pumped up and down fast. I pulled hard on the upstroke, to draw my cock out and extend it as far as I could. I wanted to feel it getting longer for my mom, as long as I could make it. My hard, long cock, jerked rapidly by my fast-moving hand and getting close to climax, was my salute to my hot, spread-open mom.

Before I knew what was happening my cock pulsed twice and a thick spray of white goopy cum erupted from my cock tip. I had never seen so much cum spurt from my cock before. It went everywhere -- my hand, my shorts, even my shirt, and my desk. It even splattered right on the computer monitor, directly on the image of my mom on the sofa.

I sat there for about a minute, not moving, staring at the image of my mom and my handiwork. It was a mess.

A knock came at the door.

"Randy?" mom called.

I panicked. Had I locked the door? I couldn't let mom come in and see what I was doing. Or see the photo of herself.

Thank goodness, she didn't come in after the knock.

"I'm getting changed, mom," I called out. My voice was shaking, and I hoped she didn't hear it. "Can you wait a sec?"

"No need to come out. I just wanted to say good night. I'm going to bed early. Good night!"

"Good night, mom."

The emergency was averted. My heart was racing. What if mom had opened the door and come in? I didn't want to think about it.

I hadn't moved. I was still sitting on the chair with my cock in my hand and the cum-splattered photo of my mom on the screen.

What a weird day, I thought.

All I could think about was my mom.

My mom is a hot mom, I thought. Holy shit, she is hot.

At that point, my still-hard cock in my hand and my cum sprayed all over and dripping down the high-resolution image of my mom blown up on my computer monitor screen, I had no idea where all this was going to go. I watched a drop of cum dribble down the screen and stop right over the exposed junction between her legs in the image. It obscured my view of mom's pussy.

I wasn't thinking with perfect clarity, but I knew one thing.

I wanted to see it again..

192 My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 02

SimonDoom

The morning light, streaming through my bedroom window, woke me from a deep sleep.

I was a slow riser, most of the time. I usually did not get out of bed right away, and it often took a few minutes after I awoke for me to get my bearings. This morning, however, I was awake for no more than five seconds before I remembered what had happened the night before: sitting on the sofa with mom, taking photos of her, and masturbating to a photo of her in my room, later, when I realized that one of the photos I had taken showed off her pussy.

I bolted out of bed -- something I never do. I was wearing black boxer briefs, nothing more, and a raging morning hard-on formed a big tent in front. I raced over to my desk and hit the button to turn on my computer monitor. I was reasonably certain the events of last night were not a dream. But I had to be sure.

They weren't. The photo of my mom popped up on the screen, in her gray top and loose gray shorts, her pussy on view in the gap in her shorts in the center of the photo.

My God, I thought.

A light knocking sounded at the door.

"Randy, are you awake?" my mom called softly through the door.

"Yeah, mom, I'll be out in a minute."

"O.K. I'm making some breakfast."

The clock on my computer said it was 7:30. Mom would be leaving for work before long, but I didn't have a class until 11, so I was in no hurry.

My cock had pushed through the fly of my briefs and stood straight and steel-hard above my lap. I couldn't leave my room and face my mom like this. Fortunately, the solution to my problem was spreading her legs on the computer screen in front of me.

I opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of lotion and some tissue I kept there for, well, occasions like this one. It had taken me a while to clean up the mess I had made at my desk the night before, and I didn't want to do that again.

I pulled the briefs off and held and squeezed the lotion bottle over my cock and watched as the lotion squirted out, making a faint plop, plop, plop sound. Then I stared at my mom on the screen and started stroking up and down my shaft. It took no longer than the night before to release, but this time I was ready and sprayed into a wad of tissues I held over the tip of my cock with my left hand. I tossed the result in the waste basket next to the desk. I turned the computer off -- I didn't want mom see what was on the screen -- and then I pulled on shorts and a t shirt and walked out of my room to see mom in the kitchen.

Mom was at the stove, scraping a spatula over a skillet. The smell of frying bacon lay thick in the air. A few cereal boxes and a carton of milk perched on the counter to the side of the stove, along with bowls, plates, spoons, and forks.

Mom obviously had showered, because her hair fell straight and slightly damp behind her. It looked like hair that had been dried only partly with a few vigorous rubs with a towel. Mom wore a white cotton bath robe. It wasn't the long, plush kind of robe you expect someone to wear after getting out a shower. It was short, hitting about mid-thigh. The material looked thin, and it was imprinted with a waffle pattern. I recognized it as the kind of robe you might wear at a spa—I'd seen that in a magazine somewhere. I thought I recalled dad having bought it for her as a gift. It was a warm morning, and mom had no need to wear anything heavier. A sash was cinched tightly at her narrow waist, accentuating her curves. As far as I could tell, mom wasn't wearing anything beneath the robe. Her feet and legs were bare. The whiteness of the robe accentuated her summer tan. A V of skin showed on her chest where the robe parted between her breasts. She looked good.

Mom looks hot, I said to myself.

"Good morning," she said, turning to me with her big smile.

I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her and gave her a big hug. She hugged me back tightly with one arm while the other hand still held the spatula. I felt her breasts mashed against my chest, and I knew that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Mom's mood was light and happy. I liked seeing her like that. She was light on her feet and nearly bouncing from one place to another in the kitchen as she made breakfast. I couldn't figure out why her mood was so good, though.

She asked me if I wanted some coffee, and I said no, because I don't drink much coffee. I pulled orange juice out of the refrigerator, poured myself a glass, and started drinking it, all the time watching mom as much as I could, cooking the bacon.

The little white waffle cloth robe accentuated, rather than hid, her body. The tightly cinched sash made the bottom part of the robe flare out, teasing me with the possibility of seeing something I wasn't supposed to see. Or was I? I wondered why mom had decided to wear such a short robe, and, as far as I could tell, nothing else, in front of me. Whatever her reason, I was glad she had done so, because she looked magnificent. The robe exposed a lot of her legs, and with her back turned to me while she was tending to the bacon, I saw a lot of her smooth and lightly muscled thighs. She stood with her legs apart just a little bit. I looked at the gap between her legs where the hem of the robe hit her mid-thigh, and I couldn't help but think that just a few inches above that gap was her pussy, probably uncovered and bare. I didn't know why I thought she wasn't wearing panties -- the robe, though thin, was thick enough that it wouldn't reveal a panty line in any case -- but I had a feeling she wasn't. I felt sure of it.

Mom's pussy. I'd seen it last night, in person, and again last night and this morning on my computer screen. It was the most arousing and exciting thing I had ever seen. And last night I had thought to myself that I wanted to see it again.

I still did. I wanted to see mom's pussy again. I had no idea how it would happen. But I couldn't let go of the vision of it in my mind.

As I mused over my fantasies about mom, she set her spatula down and walked over to the refrigerator.

"Randy, could you grab a couple of plates out of the cabinet over there?" she asked me. She pointed to the opposite side of the kitchen.

"Sure, mom," I said. I moved toward the drawer but I kept my head turned around and focused the other way. I couldn't take my eyes off my mom, who was turned away from me in front of the refrigerator.

She opened the door and leaned over to grab something from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. And she didn't bend her legs. They remained straight, and when mom bent over at the waist the back of the robe rode up her legs -- up, up, up -- exposing more and more thigh. She paused for a moment in that position while she was fishing around for whatever it was she was looking for, giving me time to savor the view. The back hem of the robe was far up her thighs, so far that it must have been no more than an inch below her pussy, if that.

Then mom very quickly reached a little farther into the refrigerator and grabbed something, and before she moved back I saw it, again -- her pussy. It was just the briefest of flashes. A quick glimpse of just part of her lovely slit under the white robe, and then the glimpse was gone.

I'd seen mom's pussy again, from behind this time.

It's hard to describe what I felt. It was like a clap of thunder shaking my body. It was that powerful. Just the briefest glimpse of a small part of the body, one I had seen many times, in movies, on the Internet, and, less often, in person. But it stirred me down to my bones. The sight of my mom's sweet pussy, brief as it was, had that effect on me. My cock hardened immediately while I pulled the plates out of the cabinet.

Uh oh, I thought. I don't know how I'm going to hide that.

I would do my best.

When the cooking was done, I took my plate of fruit and bacon and bowl of cereal, and a glass of orange juice, to the table. Mom joined me. We sat at the end of the table near the window, and the morning light through the window lit the dining room.

While I ate my breakfast, I snuck glances at mom's figure, and particularly her legs, while I tried to pretend I wasn't looking at her. Mom crossed and uncrossed her legs a lot while we ate, and I kept hoping that the robe would part enough to give me a really good view between her legs. But this time I was disappointed. I saw glimpses of her supple thighs under the robe, but nothing more.

After ten minutes, she got up and said she had to get ready for work.

I watched her butt under the short robe as she walked away, toward her room.

With mom out of the room, I thought about what I had seen. Once again, mom's pussy had come into view. It almost seemed too good to be a coincidence.

Is mom trying to show off to me? I wondered.

It was hard for me to believe that could be true. Although mom had never been shy about wearing skimpy bikinis or athletic outfits around the house, I had never had the sense that she was trying to show off for me. But now, in the span of less than 24 hours, she had exposed her pussy to me three times. I wondered if she was playing a game with me -- if she wanted to show off, without being obvious that she was showing off.

Mom dressed and left the house a little later. With the house empty, and with time to kill before I had to get ready to go to my class at 11 a.m., I had time to think. I couldn't get the image of mom's body, and of her pussy, out of my mind. I wanted to see her pussy again. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

But how would I do it?

Mom's birthday was the next day. She had told me that some of her friends were taking her out for a birthday lunch, but she would be at home with me, just the two of us, in the evening. I had told her I would make her dinner. I liked to cook sometimes, and so long as I stuck to the recipe I usually didn't mess it up too badly. But I hadn't bought a gift for her yet.

That was it. The gift. I had to buy her something that would take this little game to the next step. I started to form a plan.

After thinking more about what I would do, I got dressed, got in my car -- mom's old Hyundai mini-sedan -- and drove to school. My classes were boring. Economics, and then art history. My attention perked up briefly in art history when the professor showed an image of Manet's painting Olympia on the white screen behind her. The image of the nude woman reclining on the bed made me think, Mom would look good like that.

Even in class I couldn't stop thinking about mom being naked.

After two hours of class I was done for the day. Next up was a stint at Best Deal. I had to work until 6.

I liked going to work. I enjoyed the job. It suited me. The Best Deal store was a vast, modern cavern filled with expensive appliances and teeming with people who needed a little convincing to buy them. My job was to convince them they should. I worked mostly in the television department; I'd been selling TVs for the previous four months, and already I was one of the better salesmen on the floor.

When I got the job, my boss, Mario, explained that my job wasn't to sell TVs. My job was to talk to customers and help them see what they needed. The TV was just the thing to fulfill the need.

Some guys never got it. They never figured out how to connect to the customer, so no matter how well they knew stuff about the TVs, they couldn't sell them. But I did figure out. It came naturally to me. Instead of just talking about the TVs, I'd chat them up and figure out what motivated them to want a TV. Once I did that, selling the TV was easy.

Just the week before, a guy in a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt had come in. I found out he wanted to get a bigger TV for a Cowboys game he'd invited a bunch of friends to his house to see that weekend. We didn't talk about TVs; we talked about football. We talked about the type of artificial turf Jerry Jones had installed in the stadium. By the end of the conversation I had convinced him there was no way he could enjoy the game without being able to see every artificial grass blade, and every crease in the cheerleaders' uniforms, with the highest resolution possible. I ended up selling him a 70-inch ultra- high definition model with dynamic range and the home theater speaker package. It sold for a lot of money. My boss was pleased. I made a nice commission, too.

Today, though, I was a little off my game, because I was so distracted with thoughts of mom. I sold two TVs, but I also let a customer get away. I kept thinking about how I could see more of mom.

It occurred to me that I could put the principles of my job to work: I needed to find out what motivated her. I had to find out what mom needed, what she wanted.

I had to figure out if mom wanted to show off to me. And, if she did, why she did.

I got off work at 5 p.m. By that time I knew where I wanted to go before going home. I drove to another store not far away. It was a high-end women's sportswear boutique. I knew what I was looking for, more or less, and it didn't take me long to find it. I stopped at another store next door, and purchased something there as well. My birthday shopping was done. I headed home.

I entered the front door carefully to make sure mom wouldn't see the bags from the stores at which I'd shopped. She wasn't there. I scurried to my room and hid the presents under my bed.

I left my room and walked to the kitchen, and I saw mom walking from her room as well. She must have finished a yoga routine in her room, because she was dressed for it: form fitting pale blue shorts that stopped high on her thigh, and tight-fitting t shirt with abbreviated sleeves, and nothing else. She was bare-footed.

She stretched her arms up and out to hug me, pulling up the little hem of the t shirt, and exposing a band of her taut, smooth tummy to my view. The shorts lay very low on her waist.

"How was your day, sweetie?" she asked me.

"It was fine, mom. Sold a few TVs." We hugged briefly.

Mom turned around and walked into the kitchen to make some dinner. My eyes strayed to her butt. I saw no sign of a panty line, but since mom wore thongs (I'd seen them often enough in the dryer), it was difficult to tell whether she was wearing anything under the shorts or not. Panties or no, her butt was a delicious sight: perky, firm, and perfectly rounded. At the sight of it, my cock started to swell under my pants.

Nothing exciting happened that evening. I helped mom make dinner, and we chatted about life and movies and her turning 41. My birthday was coming up soon; I would be turning 20, and we talked about what a milestone that was, too. I confirmed with mom that I would be making a birthday dinner for her the next night.

Throughout dinner, whenever mom turned away from me for whatever reason, I snuck peeks at her legs, her breasts, and her thin waist. I tried to be discreet; I didn't want her to see that I was ogling her. I couldn't tell if I was fully successful. A few times, she turned back quickly, and I think her eyes caught mine looking away. I couldn't be sure.

I helped her clean up dinner, and I walked off to my room to finish work for my classes the next day. I wanted to get everything done so that I could devote the next day to preparing for mom's birthday. When I finished my work, I went to bed.

The next day passed quickly. I had three classes in the morning, but no work that afternoon -- I'd made arrangements with Mario beforehand to get the day off so I could prepare for mom's birthday. I wanted everything to be right for her. I wrapped the gifts, signed the card, swept the floors and straightened up in the kitchen and dining room, and, finally, cooked dinner.

Mom got home from work in early evening, at the expected time.

"Happy birthday, mom!" I called to her as she walked through the door.

I kissed her, innocently, lightly on the side of her lips, and gave her a vigorous hug.

"Dinner is just about ready," I told her. "Why don't you freshen up and I'll have things ready when you come out?"

"This is so nice of you, Randy," she said. She scampered off to her bedroom.

Dinner was nearly ready, and needed just a few touches to make it complete. I turned off lights and lit candles already set in place. The dining room table was set.

I didn't have a lot of experience in the kitchen, but I knew how to follow a recipe. I felt pretty good about the meal I'd cooked for mom.

My preparations were done, so I walked to her room and knocked on her door. "Mom," I called softly. "Dinnertime." I thought about how many times she'd made that call for me and felt good about having returned the favor just a little.

I heard movement behind mom's bedroom door, and then it opened and mom came out.

She was dressed casually but elegantly, in a simple white sleeveless dress that fit snugly on the top but flared out a little at the waist and stopped a few inches above the knee. Her legs were bare and she wore white, low-heeled sandals that matched her dress. The mold of the dress to her breasts made me think at once that she probably wasn't wearing a bra. Her blondish hair fell around her shoulders.

I offered my arm and she took it and I escorted her to the dining room. I showed her her place and pulled out her chair for her.

When I set dinner in front of her, I was pleased to see that mom was impressed. I had set a bouquet of red roses in a glass vase on the table.

"Randy, the flowers are beautiful!" she said. "You didn't have to do that.'

"I didn't have to, but I wanted to," I said.

I set the plate with the food in front of her. I was no chef, but I did well that night. I'd pulled the recipes from one of mom's cookbooks. Dinner consisted of slices of roast lamb, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. The sauce had been tricky, but I pulled it off, and when I set the plate in front of mom I could tell she was impressed. Her eyes widened and she let out a long "oooooh."

I had turned off the overhead lights; our dinner was lit up only by candles burning on our table and on a side table in the dining room.

I wasn't old enough to buy wine, but I'd taken a bottle of red wine from mom's pantry and brought it out, and before we ate I poured some of it into her glass, and then into mine.

I sat down for a birthday dinner with my mom. Mom was a beauty in any light, but in the flickering candlelight her beauty was magical. I raised a glass to toast her.

"Happy birthday to the best mom in the world," I said.

"Thank you so much, Randy," she said, her eyes shining and watery. I thought she might cry. "I'm overwhelmed. I can't believe you did this."

"I enjoyed it, mom," I said. "You do so much for me, it seemed like a little thing to do this, and it was kind of fun to cook the food."

I've always liked food. I mean, who doesn't like to eat? But until that night, I'd never thought of food, or eating, as something sensual or sexual. But watching mom slowly and carefully cut a slice of lamb and raise it to her full lips with her fork changed the way I thought about food forever. It was as though every one of my senses, for the first time in my life, had been turned on and amplified to the highest pitch possible. I noticed the squeak of the knife on her plate as she cut a piece from the lamb. I noticed the twinkling of light reflecting off her knife in the candlelight, and the contrast of mom's tanned skin and her white dress. I noticed the way the aroma of the food wafting up from the plate mixed with the smell of burning candle wicks. Most of all, I noticed the way mom's eyes widened with pleasure when she tasted the food I'd cooked for her.

Dinner was quieter than I expected, but in a good way. We didn't say a lot, but that was because we were both enjoying eating. I knew mom enjoyed it, because while she didn't say a lot during dinner she did praise the food I had cooked for her.

"Randy, this lamb is wonderful," she said. "Everything is delicious. I had no idea you were such a good cook. You're going to have to cook more of the meals from now on." We both laughed.

"I don't think your dad ever cooked a meal for me like this in 20 years of marriage," she said. "I'm sure he didn't."

Mom swallowed a forkful of asparagus and munched it with her eyes closed. A dollop of sauce spilled from between her lips and dribbled down her chin. I don't know why, but there was something mesmerizing about it -- the sauce I'd cooked tracing a crooked path from her lips and stopping at her pert chin. I couldn't take my eyes off it.

When she opened her eyes she noticed I was staring at her.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Oh, you have a little . . . " I said and I held my finger to my chin to indicate where the sauce was.

"Oh," she said and picked up her napkin.

"No, wait," I said. "Let me."

I leaned forward and reached across the table and put my finger to her chin and swept up the drop of sauce. Then I put the tip of my finger to her lips. I didn't think about what I was doing; I just did it. Mom didn't hesitate. She accepted my gesture graciously and eagerly. She opened her lips and I pressed my finger forward. Her lips closed around my outstretched finger and sucked the sauce off of it with a tender smacking sound.

She closed her eyes for a moment as her lips caressed my finger. I wondered if she was imagining herself somewhere else, or if she imagined her lips on something else. When she reopened her eyes, she had pulled her lips off my finger.

Until that moment, I had never imagined I could be so aroused by the touch of my finger to a woman's lips. But I was. The electricity of the moment engulfed and surrounded me. And I think mom felt it too. Her eyes were wide and they didn't leave mine.

After that, we ate in silence for a while. Mom didn't say anything, other than to exclaim from time to time how much she liked the food I had cooked for her. I had to admit, dinner had turned out well, but I enjoyed mom's reaction more than I enjoyed the taste of the food.

When we got up the urge to talk again, we talked about food, and about birthdays (mine was coming up soon, so we talked about that for a while), and I talked about my classes and what I might take the next semester.

When it was time for dessert I pulled out a small cake I'd kept on the kitchen counter. I'd bought it at a store earlier that day. I lit candles and sang "Happy Birthday" to my mom, whose eyes and smile shined and flickered in the dim dining room light. We finished the cake quickly.

When we were done with cake I took the plates to the kitchen, and then I gestured to mom to join me in the living room. We sat on the sofa together, again, where we had been a few nights before when she had exposed herself in her little shorts.

This time, mom sat in her white dress in bare feet with her legs up on the sofa and folded under her. I set two colorful gift bags in front of her, and a card peeking out from one of them.

"Here you go, mom," I said. "Open the card and then that one first."

She took her time reading the card. It wasn't anything special, but I could tell she was touched. Then she pulled the first bag toward her and reached into it.

I was nervous about the gifts I'd bought her. I had a feeling about mom, and I wanted to test if my feeling was right, and I thought the gifts I'd bought would help me find out. But I was worried I was wrong, that mom would be offended or angry about the gifts, and that she might think I had overstepped my boundaries with her.

She pulled the presents out of the first bag. She pulled out, one after the other, a pair of running shorts and a running bra. They matched -- both were blue and black. The shorts were form-fitting, and quite brief. The bra provided ample coverage and support to make mom comfortable, but I knew it still would expose plenty of cleavage and the skin of her taut torso. I knew when I bought the gift that I was taking a risk -- that mom might think it too skimpy to wear, or that it would bother her that I'd bought her something so skimpy. I didn't want her to disapprove. But I thought the risk was worth taking.

Mom didn't react right away. She held the shorts up in one hand and the bra in the other and looked both over carefully. I don't think she knew how to respond. I decided to jump in and explain before she reacted more.

"We were talking the other day about your needing a new running outfit," I said. "So I thought you could use something like this."

Mom's eyes grew wide and she looked at me with a wry smile.

"It's skimpy!" she said. "Am I supposed to go running in that?"

"Of course you are, mom," I said. "Lots of women run in outfits like that. I see women out on the trail dressed in something like that all the time. And they're not as good-looking as you are."

"Well, thanks, Randy," she said. "Is this because of the conversation we had the other night?"

"Yeah," I said. "I don't want you to feel like you are over the hill. You're not. You're very pretty mom, and you should dress in things that make you feel that way. And if you put a photo of yourself in that outfit on your online dating profile, you are going to get a lot of attention."

"Maybe," she said. "I just hope it's good attention."

"Don't worry. Now try the other package.

She picked up the other package, put her fingers in it, and pulled out the contents. It was a bikini, bright red and very small. Not just small, but tiny-small. At the store, I'd seen it on a mannequin, and I immediately had imagined it on my mom's body. I'd never seen her wear a bikini that small. I knew it would be risky, and that it might seem a little strange for her son to buy her such a small swim suit. But from the moment I saw it in the store I was fixated on the idea of seeing her in it. I knew she would look askance at it and at me, so I'd rehearsed what to say when she saw it for the first time.

"That is a very small swimsuit, Randy," she said to me in a soft voice, not taking her eyes off it as she turned it over in her hands.

"I know it is, mom," I said. "I was thinking about what you said the other night. I felt bad about you thinking that you were old, or not attractive. Mom, you are still very young, and you can act like it. I think you should get out there and start dating. And dress and act like the beautiful woman you are. Besides, you can get a better tan in a swimsuit this size."

I hoped I was sounding convincing. Mom seemed a little skeptical as she held up the bikini and scanned the red fabric.

"Well, it's a good brand," she said. "And the quality seems to be good." She touched the fabric between her fingers. "But I'm not sure I can pull this off at 40. I appreciate the vote of confidence. Maybe I'll try it out here at home and see what I think before wearing it out in public."

"That sounds like a good idea," I said. "Now, let me give you a birthday hug.

"Happy birthday, mom," I said as I hugged her. Her firm breasts mashed against my chest as we embraced, and my dick stiffened.

"You're very sweet, Randy," she said. "This evening was wonderful -- the dinner, the roses, the presents. You're a very thoughtful son."

"Thanks, mom," I said. "You're a wonderful mom and I wanted to show some appreciation."

"Well, you did. You did a great job. Now I hope I can pull off wearing these clothes you bought. They are skimpy."

"I'm sure you can, mom," I said.

She gestured at the running shorts and top lying next to her on the sofa. "You don't think that outfit's a little small for me to be running around the neighborhood in?" she asked.

"No," I said. "You are a serious runner. You want to wear something light and comfortable. It's functional. And you'll look great. Don't worry about it."

I had had an idea for what I wanted to do next in the evening, but I made it sound like an idea that had just come to me.

"I have an idea, mom," I said. "Why don't you put on the running outfit, and I'll take a few photos of you. You can see if you like how you look, and if it looks good you can use some photos for your online dating profile?"

Her face showed she was skeptical. I wasn't sure if it was because of uncertainty about how it would look on her or because of discomfort with posing for me.

"Well, I don't know, Randy. How would you want me to pose?"

"Just some nice, athletic shots, that will show you how you look in the outfit. And I could use some photos like that for the portfolio I need for my photography class at school."

"You're going to show these photos to other people?" she asked, concern on her face.

"Only if you approve," I said. "I'll take the photos and put them on my computer. Then you can look at them and see if you like them. O.K.?"

My earnestness and enthusiasm appeared to be winning her over and beating back her reluctance.

"O.K., I'll give it a try," she said. "Should I go put this on now?" She held it up.

I was in my photographer mode now, and I knew how to direct her. I recalled mom's readiness to follow my posing directions the previous night on the sofa and knew that once I got her going she would be more comfortable and responsive in posing for me.

"Take the shorts and top and put them on, and come back here. I'll get my camera and straighten up the room and get it ready for the photos."

With that instruction, I went to my room and she went to hers, the little running outfit clutched in one hand.

I had a fairly good DSLR camera back in my room that I'd bought on an employee discount from the Best Deal store where I worked. I fetched it. Although it was night time, I left the flash behind. The living room was well lit and I wanted to work just with the ambient light. The light was good, I thought. There was enough overhead light to ensure the photos wouldn't be too grainy, and the light from the candles and lamps would provide some interesting side lighting.

I adjusted the settings of the camera. Then I picked up the birthday packaging and set it aside so it wouldn't spoil the photos.

I heard soft footsteps on the floor and looked up and saw mom. She was wearing the little running outfit.

Mom looked a little tentative, a little nervous. But she didn't need to. She looked like a fitness goddess -- lean and sculpted but with skin that still was soft and supple. The shorts sat low on her waist and high on her thighs, accentuating long, shapely legs and a toned and defined torso. The bra top was more substantial and provided more coverage than a normal bra would, but it still revealed a fair amount of cleavage, and the effect of the firm, compressive material was to push her boobs up and together, accentuating the depth of the groove between them. Mom's dark blond hair flowed over her bare shoulders and down her back.

"Mom, you look great," I said to boost her confidence. "These are going to be great. We've got good light, too." I gestured around the room.

Though she looked amazing, mom seemed timid. She held her hands, clasped together, in front of her tummy. She acted like she didn't know where to go or what to do.

"Do you think this looks O.K.?" she asked.

I knew mom was feeling exposed and uncomfortable and that I had to do what I could to boost her confidence.

"Better than O.K., mom," I answered. "Trust me, you look wonderful. Now come over here, and I'll take some photos of you on the sofa."

Mom walked over to the sofa, still holding her hands together in front of her, and sat down on the sofa.

"I'm going to start with a profile photo," I said. "Just sit upright on the sofa, hands on your lap, and smile at me. Cock your head to the side just a little. Not that much. Yes, that's right."

Following my instructions seemed to give mom heart. She sat up straight and looked directly at me.

"Now give me a big smile," I said. She did. It was a great smile.

I took a few photos of her in that position. Then I got another idea. I walked over to the dining room and pulled a long stem red rose from the vase and walked back and handed it to her.

"Now," I said, "Hold the base of the stem of the rose, and hold it against you, with it just under your chin."

She did so.

"Excellent. I'll take a few shots." That's what I did. Mom was getting more comfortable. I was giving her easy poses to do, and her smile lit up with the brilliant red rose in her hand. She didn't have to pose; she was just sitting straight up, smiling into the camera lens. The rose added an appropriate romantic touch to the scene.

"That's great, mom, good smile. Now turn to the side a little, not quite 45 degrees. That's it. Shoulders back."

I was getting into it. It was fun taking charge of a photoshoot, even a strictly amateur one like this. It was doubly fun being able to tell my mom what to do and having her do it all, promptly and without reservation or hesitation.

The first few poses I had her strike were completely innocent, but it was impossible to avoid noticing how sexy mom looked in the short shorts and bra top. The mounds of her breasts strained against the tight-fitting bra. I wanted to set the camera to the side and just stare at her. But, of course, I couldn't do that. I kept up a steady patter of instructions and small talk to put her at ease and pose her, and to distract myself from the way mom's hot body was making me feel.

Then I decided to ramp up the sexiness of the shoot a little. I had mom lie back on the sofa, head against the pillow, arms bent and over her, one hand crossing over the other through the blond waves of her hair. I had her extend one leg in front of her (not fully straight, of course), and bend the other leg. Mom knew without coaching to point her toes, and I even noticed those for the first time in my life. I have my share of fetishes -- I'm a guy -- but feet had never done anything for me. But now, there was just something about mom's feet -- the curve of the instep, the thin ankles, the perfectly proportioned and -- it appeared -- freshly painted toenails.

I imagined my lips around one of those toes, spreading over it and taking it fully in my mouth and swirling my tongue around it. And as soon as I thought it I did everything I could to purge the thought. I had more photographs to take, and I didn't want to give away the rising temperature of my feelings for mom in that moment.

Lying back on the sofa, mom pushed her chest out an inch or two -- she really was getting the hang of posing with minimal instructions -- and looked squarely into the lens. She turned her face down just slightly, looking up at me through thick eyelashes, and she let her lips part without smiling. It was a seductive look, no doubt about it. I didn't think mom meant anything by it, but the look seduced me, anyway. I took my time over that pose, and took several shots.

I wanted to push the boundary more.

"Let's stand up now, mom," I said.

"Where do you want me?" she said. I had to try hard not to show her how I was letting her words sink in.

"Over there by the wall," I said. "Where it's uncluttered. Put your back against the wall, and your hands down and against the wall, and now move your hips away, and bend your legs. Get up on the balls of your feet, bend one leg slightly across the other, and point a toe. "

I kept running through the instructions quickly, in part because I thought if I slowed down mom might start wondering whether she really wanted to strike such a sexy pose for her son's camera. It seemed to work because mom had no objection, and she gave me another sexy, slightly opened mouth expression, as before.

The outfit was perfect for her, and she looked perfect in it. Sculpted but feminine, lean and curvy, sporty and graceful: she was all these things in one.

She seemed to be enjoying herself as well. She took instructions easily and even improvised on my directions, adding gestures and poses.

"Mom, you're a natural at this," I said. "Did you pose for dad? I remember him taking a lot of photos."

"I did some posing for your father," she said with a grin and a look that said she was thinking about the poses she struck.

I kept talking as I snapped photos of her.

"Can I see them?" I asked.

"You can see some of them," she said, the grin bigger now. "Some of them I can't show you."

"Oh!" I said. "I had no idea, mom. I don't mean to pry."

"You're not prying. It's O.K. I haven't thought about those photos he took in a while."

She seemed to like thinking about them, and I wondered how dad had posed her. I was getting hard again.

Now I had another thing on my checklist. I wanted to see the photos dad had taken of mom -- even the ones I wasn't meant to see.

"Let's go over here to the table," I told her. "Put your hands on the back of the chair, turn partly to the side, but with your back to me, and get up on the balls of your feet."

"Are you trying to take a photo of my butt?" she asked, looking at me with eyebrows raised high.

"It's not a butt shot," I said. "It's a shot of your back and your figure from the back." I think I sounded convincing. Mom paused a few seconds before taking up the pose.

Mom turned her butt toward me, her feet apart and her torso twisted part-way to the left so she could hold the back of the chair and look because over her shoulder at me.

From that angle she looked magnificent. The fabric of the little shorts looked like no more than the thinnest layer of black paint over the hard, perfect mounds of her ass. The muscles of her legs were tensed under smooth, taut skin. She rose as high as she could on the balls of her feet, causing her calf muscles to pop out noticeably. Her back was uncovered, save for the three-inch strap of her running bra.

Mom looked back over her shoulder at me with an expression similar to the one from before -- chin down slightly, eyes upturned through thick eyelashes.

I took a few photos of her in that position.

I could see from my view point that mom was conflicted. She enjoyed posing and having her picture taken, but with every passing minute that she was on display in her skimpy outfit the challenge to her sense of propriety grew. I wanted to get as many sexy shots of mom as I could, but I also wanted to end the shoot before she was too uncomfortable.

After a few photos of her with her backside to me I decided to end the shoot.

"Mom, that was great," I said. "I think we got some good shots. I think that's enough for now."

With the photo shoot done, I told mom I would clean up the dinner, but she insisted on helping me. We picked the dishes up off the table together and moved into the kitchen to clean the mess off the dishes. I told her I would do it by myself, but she seemed determined to stay near me and help me. I don't know why, exactly, but I had the feeling she enjoyed lingering near me in the skimpy shorts and bra I had bought her.

When we were done cleaning up in the kitchen, we parted. Mom went to her room and I went to mine.

I wanted, before her birthday was done, to deliver copies of the photos I'd taken of her to her. I downloaded the photos on the camera to my computer, and then I saved them to a handy flash drive I'd kept in a drawer. The copying took almost no time, and when it was done I grabbed the flash drive out of the socket in the computer and walked down the hallway to my mom's room. I wanted mom to be able to see herself -- to see how youthful and attractive she looked in the shorts and bra top I'd given her.

The door to mom's room was open just a crack, so I pushed it open all the way and walked in without knocking or announcing myself.

My mom stood naked in the middle of her room, facing me. She was just stepping out of the tiny running shorts, which lay on the floor at her feet.

She looked even better than I had imagined her. Her body was sculpted and lean, but shapely. Her breasts were full and round, her nipples pink and succulent. Her pubic hair was light and well-trimmed, and it left her pussy fully exposed to me. I saw the outline of thin lips dangling in the gap between her slender thighs.

Mom saw me and let out a shriek.

"Randy!" she cried.

Her left hand flew down between her legs, and her right hand swept across her chest to cover her breasts. In a second she had covered her tits and pussy.

But not completely. Her right arm, though she held it across her body, was positioned just under her right nipple, leaving it half exposed. The fingers of her right hand were over the left nipple, but the fingers were apart, not pressed together, leaving glimpses of pink areola and nipple on view between them. The left hand was pressed down between her legs, but the fingers were off to the side just a bit, leaving some of her pubic hair -- and, I thought, a little bit of her pussy lip -- still on view.

She didn't move. She just stood there, semi-covered.

"Randy, what are you doing? You can see I'm . . . I was getting dressed."

I guess the proper thing to do would have been immediately to turn around and run out of the room with an apology. But I didn't do that. I just stood there, openly staring at her almost nude body.

"Mom, I'm sorry," I said. "I told you I'd show you the photos so I put them on a flash drive to give them to you. Here it is."

I stretched my arm out to her with the flash drive between my fingers. I was so mesmerized by the sight of mom naked in front of me that I wasn't thinking clearly. Obviously, she wasn't going to pull her hands away from her body to grab the flash drive.

She didn't. She kept covered up -- sort of. Her arms over her body weren't completely still, and as she moved them I caught glimpses of her tits and pussy left exposed in the gaps between her fingers.

I was aware that the chivalrous and proper thing to do was to stop looking and leave the room. But I wanted to keep looking at her. Mom was naked. I liked seeing her naked and I didn't want to stop seeing her naked.

"I can't exactly take that from you, Randy," she said. "Why don't you just leave it on the dresser over there." She inclined her head to the side to indicate where she wanted me to take it.

I walked over to the dresser and set the flash drive down on top of it. Then I turned around. Mom had not changed her position; she still was facing the bedroom door, so I now was looking at her from the side. She was covering her front, but her petite bubble butt was uncovered and on display from the side, and the way she stood she pushed it out a little, making the profile view of her all the more delicious.

I didn't want to be lewd, but I didn't want to stop looking at her, either.

"Mom, I'm really sorry about this. Really. I'll knock next time," I said.

"That's O.K."

I just stood there for a few moments looking at her, and I noticed that the side of her left boob was completely uncovered. The shape of it was perfect, I thought.

"I'm going to go," she said.

With that, she turned around and walked quickly and awkwardly to the bathroom. I saw her naked butt for the first time, completely uncovered. I looked down to the space between her thighs, hoping to catch another sight of her pussy, but she was too quick and it was hidden.

"I'm sorry again, mom," I said, and I left her room.

I closed the door behind me, but it didn't close all the way. It remained open, just a crack.

I paused right outside her door and thought about what I'd seen. I'd seen my mom naked. Fully naked. Her tits, her ass, and her pussy -- all on view to me.

I was rock hard again. I knew what I needed to do. I ran to my room.

Two minutes later I had exploded into a wad of tissue paper.

I sat in the chair at my desk for a long time, with my cock in my hand. Thoughts of my naked mom were driving me crazy, even after I had come.

After a while, I put my shorts on. I opened my bedroom door, and the lights were out. It appeared that mom had gone to bed for the night.

I was thirsty so I walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I approached, I could hear a noise coming from mom's side of the house. I hadn't heard it before, and I didn't recognize it.

I tip-toed down the hall, toward her room. The door was closed. When I got close to the door, I realized it wasn't completely closed; it still was open, just a crack, as before.

The noise came from inside mom's bedroom. It was a low, steady buzz. I still couldn't tell what it was.

Then I heard mom let out a soft, low moan, and I understood the source of the buzzing sound.

It's a vibrator, I thought. Mom was getting herself off with a vibrator.

My cock responded, again, tenting out against my shorts. The idea that on the other side of the thin door -- a door that wasn't even fully closed -- my hot mom was probably naked and lying on the bed, probably with her legs open and with a vibrator pressed down on her clit or pushed inside her pussy, was incredibly arousing. I had orgasmed in my room not long before, but the thought of mom masturbating made my cock spring back to life.

I pulled the shorts down, below my cock, watching it jump up and forward. Then I decided to pull them off altogether. I did so very quietly. As long as she didn't hear me, there wasn't much chance she was going to come to the door while her vibrator was buzzing.

I stood completely naked outside mom's door, my head inclined to the crack in the door so I could hear her better, and I started stroking myself. I was trying to be very quiet about it. Already, things were crazy enough; I didn't need to have her catch me beating off to the sound of her vibrating herself.

I heard the steady buzz, and mom's low moaning at regular intervals. I started stroking in sync with her moaning.

Her moaning increased in pitch; now it sounded more like an urgent, needy whine. It was louder, and faster. I sped up my stroking to keep pace.

Then I heard her say something. I couldn't tell what. I leaned to the door more closely.

"Randy . . . " I heard her say.

Shit, I thought.

"You shouldn't look at me like that," she said. "You shouldn't see your mom naked."

Wow, I thought. My mom is masturbating herself with a vibrator while thinking about me looking at her.

I heard her say my name again, and then again. Then she moaned again, still faster and at a higher pitch. Then I heard the high-pitched "unh . . . unh . . . unh" that told me she was about to come.

I noticed with a start that I was about to come, too. If I didn't act fast I was going to spray cum all over the carpet outside her room. I couldn't do that.

I scooped my shorts up with my left hand and held my right hand fast to my cock and ran awkwardly toward the bathroom off the hallway. I could feel the cum welling up inside ready to burst out, and I applied my fist to my cock like a tourniquet to keep it from doing so. I didn't want to pour my jism all over the floor.

I stumbled into the bathroom and ran, as quietly as I could, to the sink. I loosened my grip on my hard shaft and watched as another gusher of cum sprayed into the bathroom sink. I kept milking my cock until it was emptied of cum.

A big mess of it lay all over and around the sink.

I couldn't turn the water on without the risk of mom hearing me. So I scooped up a roll of toilet paper and mopped up my cum as well as I could. I couldn't flush it down without making noise, and if I put it in the trash mom might see it later. So I grabbed the mess of tissue, peeked my head out the bathroom to make sure the coast still was clear, and then tiptoed off as quietly as I could to my room.

I dumped the tissue in the waste basket in my room. I stripped my shorts off and fell into bed naked.

I lay in bed for a while, holding my cock and thinking about my mom.

I had wanted to see my mom naked again, and I had, but I hadn't expected so many crazy things to happen. It seemed like things were accelerating, out of control. I still had no idea where all this was going, but I wanted to find out. I wanted to see more of my mom.

And, too, another thought was taking shape in my mind: that maybe, just maybe, mom wanted me to see her as well. Maybe my desire was more than just a bedtime fantasy.

With thoughts and fantasies of my hot mom crowding my brain, I slowly drifted off to sleep..

193 My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 03

SimonDoom

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. What they don't say -- though it's true -- is that a picture of your mom, naked and on display for you, is worth a thousand other pictures.

I know it's true, because on a Saturday, mid-morning, I sat at my desk, looking at a photograph of my mom, her pussy exposed and on display on the computer screen in front of me. I was reviewing my collection of the photos I recently had taken of mom, including the photo in which she unwittingly had exposed her pussy to me.

It was the day after my mom's birthday, when I accidentally had seen her naked in her bedroom. I had slept in. I wasn't working that day, so I had no need to get up early. I only woke up because the next-door neighbor started mowing his lawn.

The noise roused me from my sleep, and it prompted me to get out of bed. I sat up on the edge of the mattress, feet on the floor and mind turning over what had happened the night before.

I had seen my mom naked. Standing no more than few feet from me. I had seen her completely naked for no more than about two seconds, after which she had tried, with only partial success, to cover her breasts and pussy. She had remained naked in front of me for about two minutes. We'd stood like that, next to each other, her naked and me clothed. It was the hottest thing I had ever seen in my life.

I sat like that on the edge of the bed, thinking, for a while.

It wasn't until 10:30 that I roused myself from bed and made it to the kitchen for breakfast. Mom was awake and tending to eggs frying in a black pan on the stove.

Mom had squeezed her slim hips and lean legs into a faded pair of skinny jeans. Up top, she wore a loose-fitting, long-sleeve, pale pink cotton shirt. A pink scrunchie bound her hair in a ponytail trailing behind her and down her upper back. She paced from one part of the kitchen to the other in bare feet.

Mom didn't see me at first when I entered the kitchen behind her. I wasn't sure what to say to her, after last night. Seeing her in front of me, I kept thinking about having walked in on her in her bedroom, naked. I hoped it wouldn't make things too awkward between us.

It didn't, or, it didn't seem to. When she heard me she turned around and gave me a hug, with no weird pauses or weird looks. We both acted like nothing strange had happened.

We ate breakfast together without talking a lot. When we were almost done, the doorbell rang.

I walked to the front door and opened it. I was surprised to see my dad standing at the threshold. He looked happy to see me but also a little embarrassed to be standing on the doorstep. It had been his house, once, but now it was mom's, courtesy of their divorce agreement.

"Randy!" he said, and we hugged. He crossed the threshold into the house, a little awkwardly.

"How are you doing?" he asked. We chatted for a few minutes about my work and my school. Then he brought up the real reason he was there.

"Is mom home?" he asked.

I told him she was and they met and walked off together to talk about something; I didn't know what. While they were talking, I went back to my room, and that's when I sat at my computer and pulled up the photographs I had taken of mom so far.

My file of hot photos of my mom had grown quickly in recent weeks. I had the photo of her in shorts on the sofa, exposing her pussy. That was the one I looked at most, obviously. But I also had the photos I'd taken of her when we had been running together. And I had the photos I'd taken of her the night before, in the running outfit I'd bought her. When I could tear myself away from the photo of her pussy, I pored over the photos of her in the skin-tight running outfit. The material was so thin and stretched over her body so tightly it almost looked like body paint in the soft living room light. I couldn't see her most intimate parts, but the outline of her delicious, thin but shapely figure was totally revealed. My finger tapped the keyboard, over and over, as I scrolled through the shots I'd taken of my hot mom. I savored every one of them.

And yet, the photos didn't satisfy my hunger to see my mom, they just stirred it. Just the night before, I'd seen mom completely naked, for just two seconds, but I didn't have a camera handy, and I wouldn't have taken a photo of her anyway, under those circumstances, because she was so embarrassed. But I wanted that. I wanted mom to get naked for me, willingly, and let me take a photo of her.

I had no idea how I would make that happen, but I wanted to. With a desperate, singular sense of purpose, I wanted to.

While I was looking over the photos a knock sounded at my door.

"Randy?" mom called. "You dad's about to leave. Come out to say goodbye."

I left my room and the photos of my mom on the computer. I met dad at the door. We didn't say much but we hugged. My relationship with dad was O.K. after the divorce, but it still was awkward to see him at the house, which mom now owned by herself.

After seeing dad off, I shut the door and walked to the kitchen and saw mom, cleaning up after breakfast.

"What did dad want?" I asked.

Mom laughed, softly and a little grimly.

"Your dad wanted something back," she said. "Something he had agreed I could have in our settlement agreement. Some old records, that we'd collected early in our marriage. We used to do that. Even when records weren't being made anymore, we collected some. I had a collection of records from the 70s. When we got divorced, your dad didn't care about the collection, so he agreed I could have it. This morning, he was telling me how important it was to him."

"So what did you say?" I asked.

"Well," mom said, "I didn't have that strong feeling about those, to tell you the truth. Until your dad slipped. He said his girlfriend liked those old records. And somehow, when he said that, suddenly I thought that I cared about having those old records more than I had before. So I said no. He didn't take it well."

"Sorry, mom," I said. "Sounds like dad wasn't being sensitive."

She paused for a moment before replying.

"I don't want to get you wrapped up in our squabbles, Randy," she said. "But you asked, and you're an adult. I don't want to hold a grudge, but I have a hard time with some of what your dad has done."

She stopped, and I could see it wasn't easy for her to talk.

I put my arm on her shoulder.

"It's O.K., mom," I said. "I understand."

Mom's hands were in the sink, washing dishes in sudsy water.

"So what are you going to do today, lazy boy?" mom asked.

"I don't know," I answered. "Think I'll go for a run. Mason texted about getting together with the guys later tonight. We might see the new Fast and Furious movie. What about you, mom?"

"I think I'm going to take advantage of the beautiful day by doing some gardening," she said. "The bushes need some trimming. Not sure about the rest of the day."

Mom scrubbed a few more dishes and then turned to me.

"Randy," she said, "Could you get my phone out of my bedroom? I think it's on the table next to my bed."

"Sure, mom," I said.

I walked down the hallway to her room.

Inside her room, I saw that mom had done the laundry, and piles of clothes that had been folded but not yet put away sat on her bed. Near the night table where her phone lay, she had stacked her panties.

The stack of panties caught my attention and made me stop before I picked up the phone. I combed through the stack. They were all different types and colors. Some were black, some white, some red, some turquoise. She had boy shorts and thongs. Some were shiny, some plain, some lacy, some see-through. I saw a pair with an opening in the gusset -- it wouldn't cover her pussy at all. Wow, mom, I thought.

Two-thirds of the way down the stack I pulled out a pale blue thong. It was nothing more than thin satin blue strings joined to a tiny, filmy triangle in front. The film was very nearly see-through. Had I seen mom wearing it I would, no doubt, have seen the slit of her pussy plainly through the blue film. I ran the fabric between my thumb and finger.

My thumb was touching the part of the thong that had been pressed right up against mom's pussy, I thought. I was getting hard again.

I put the blue thong in my pocket, readjusted the stack of panties, grabbed mom's phone, and returned to the kitchen.

"Here's your phone, mom," I said, handing it to her.

She dried off her hands and took it.

"Thanks, Randy," she said.

She looked up at me, her face close to mine. Mom was tall, for a woman, but I was taller, and she was in bare feet, so she had to look up to me, and the sight of her eyes close and turned up toward mine stirred something in me. She put a hand up and tapped it on my chest, lightly and lovingly, and I think I puffed my chest out a little at her touch.

"I really appreciate you, Randy," she said. "It's nice to have a man around the house. In some ways you play the role better than your dad did."

I liked the way she said it. At the same time, a part of me reflected on how odd it was that she hadn't said anything about me seeing her naked the night before. Either she didn't care, I thought, or she was trying to hide or forget whatever she felt about it.

Being around mom was making me horny and antsy. But she was in her skinny jeans and seemed preoccupied with her chores. She wasn't going to show me anything, dressed like that, even though her figure looked fantastic.

The day was sunny and warm. I decided the best thing to do was to go for a run. I left mom in the kitchen and went to my room, where I dumped her thong in my drawer, next to the lotion bottle.

A few minutes later I was out the door, wearing my running shorts and sunglasses and a phone strapped to my arm, and no shirt, as before.

I ran six miles, throwing in a few hard quarter mile intervals. My brain was filled with images of mom nearly the whole time, and my body surged with lust and desire, and the urgent need to see more of her.

As I ran I tried thinking of ways to move mom's exposure to the next step. I could suggest taking more photos of her, but at some point, if I wanted to take photos of her bare breasts, or of her exposed pussy, I'd have to ask her to slider her bra off, or pull her panties down or to the side. And I just couldn't quite visualize myself doing that, or mom saying yes if I did. As far as figuring out how to expose mom further, I was stuck.

I finished my run, jogged slowly back to the house, and let myself in the front door.

"Mom! I'm back," I shouted when I got in the front door.

I heard no response. I wondered where mom was. I'd find out, in a minute, but first I needed something to drink, so I went to the kitchen and pulled out a cold Gatorade. Ice blue, or some similar totally artificial flavor. I walked to the living room, where a large window opened onto the back yard.

Then I saw mom. She lay on a lounge chair by the pool, reading a book. She wore the little red bikini I had given her the night before for her birthday.

Shwing. Instant hard-on. In the store, when I had bought the bikini, I'd run the material of it through my fingers. I'd picked it up by the incredibly skinny string ties on the side and lusted at the idea of mom's delicious body being covered by nothing more than the bikini's miniscule pieces of fabric. And here she was, lying in the sun before me, covered in nothing but those pieces of fabric that looked even smaller on her tall, slender, shapely frame than I'd imagined. My fantasy had come true.

I had to get a closer look.

I walked out back toward the pool. "Hey, mom," I said as casually as I could.

"Hi Randy!" mom replied cheerfully. Her eyes lay hidden by a pair of sunglasses but her white teeth showed in a wide-open smile. She lay with her back propped up at a 45-degree angle in the lounge chair, a book in one hand. She turned slightly to me as she said my name and I was struck by the length and litheness of her body and her exposed supple skin. The thinness of her waist accentuated the hourglass shape of her figure. From my view point her body was covered by nothing more than three small triangles of red fabric -- two barely reining in her breasts, and the other one barely covering the intimate region between her legs.

I drew closer to her and pulled up another lounge chair and sat on it with my legs off the side toward her.

"Looks like you had a good run," she said, and she put her finger against my abs again. I liked the way she did it, and I liked that she seemed to like doing it. My chest was bare and I wondered what she was seeing when she looked at me behind the cover of her sunglasses. I was trying to read mom's mood through her body language. Whatever she felt, she showed no trace of embarrassment or nervousness from what had happened the night before. She put her hands back and crossed over each other above and her head, against the chair. She bent her leg up, the one farther from me. The pose exhibited the sculpted grace of her thighs and the prominence of her calf muscle. I noticed she was wearing open-toed wedge sandals and that she'd painted her toenails vermillion to match her suit. It was a nice, sexy touch. I also noticed the way the little triangle of bikini fabric between her legs seems to disappear in a point where her legs met. I knew it wasn't a thong, but there wasn't a lot of material at its thinnest point between her legs, and from this angle it almost looked like it vanished altogether.

"I can't believe this weather," she said. "It's almost October, and it's hot. The sun feels great."

I was glad she liked it. I hoped she was in no hurry to get out of the sun. I had nothing urgent to do, and as far as I was concerned I could enjoy spending all day watching my mom sun herself in the tiny red bikini.

"Speaking of sun," she said, "I want to get some sun on the other side but I need some lotion on my back first. Can you help me?" She gestured to a bottle of SPF 30 sun screen on a little table next to her. Mom was fortunate that she could tan without too much effort; she used sun screen to avoid overdoing it.

"Sure mom," I said. "No problem." No problem -- that was an understatement. At that moment, almost nothing could have given me more joy than to fill my hands with lotion and run them over mom's lissome body.

Mom handed me the lotion bottle while I scooted my chair as close to hers as I could. I squirted a big dab of greasy lotion in my palm, rubbed both hands together, and leaned over mom to get to work. The lusty, tropical scent of coconut wafted through the air from my hands. By this time she'd turned over, and her back was exposed to me.

Before I started I had to catch my breath, because I saw the cut of the bikini bottom on mom for the first time. The bottom was, more or less, a Brazilian cut -- it wasn't a thong, but it exposed a lot more cheek on each side than a normal bikini bottom. On either side the bikini was held in place by spaghetti-thin strings that mom had neatly bow-tied. One little, easy pull, I thought, and the whole thing would come sliding off.

But I didn't pull it. Instead I applied my hands to mom's shoulders and began spreading the lotion around. I dug my fingers in a little, too, to massage her back as I went along. I rubbed it in, in wide, deliberate circles with my hands, starting at the back of her shoulders and moving down.

I squirted a little more of it directly onto the middle of mom's back, and her body recoiled just slightly at the plop of it against her skin. My hands, now seemingly guided by a force I had no say over, pushed the lotion out toward her sides. For the first time, I noticed how much side-boob the little bikini top revealed. It revealed a lot, even though the front of her boob was mashed into the lounge. How far should I go, I wondered? My hands wanted to find out. Both of them simultaneously swept down mom's sides, and my fingers briefly passed over the exposed sides of her breasts. For the first time ever, I actually had put my hands on mom's boobs.

She didn't flinch. That was good, I thought.

I didn't stop. I massaged the lotion into her lower back, and my fingers "innocently" traced the upper edge of her bikini bottom, which lay enticingly low on her hips, the skinny strings just over her hip bones. Two fingers passed just barely under the edge of the bikini bottom. The pressure of them pushed the bottom down just a little. It might have been so little that mom might not have noticed; but I noticed, because for a second I saw the top of her butt crack as my fingers swept from one side of her back to the other.

Mom wasn't saying anything and seemed relaxed, so I figured I'd keep going. My mouth watered at the prospect of running my hands along the exposed portion of mom's butt checks -- in the tiny bikini, a lot was exposed, and her flanks looked incredibly inviting. The skin was soft, but the shape was firm, with no trace of sag. Mom's butt, plainly, benefited greatly from all her exercise. My hands burned with the desire to feel it.

I was just about to squirt some lotion on my hands again to get working on her butt when a voice called out from beyond the gate on the side of the house.

"Randy," the voice called. "Are you there?"

Mom looked up at me. "Are you expecting someone?" she asked.

"No," I said. "But that sounds like Tucker. I'll see what he wants."

I walked to the gate to let him in, cursing him under my breath the whole way for his rotten timing. My hands had been seconds away from rubbing the cheeks of mom's firm, perky butt.

I opened the gate, and Tucker stood in front of me with a huge grin on his face. He held a DVD in a plain jewel case in front of him and started talking loudly and excitedly before I could get a word in.

"Randy, my man. Looks like you've been running," he said, pointing to my shirtless chest. "You are a video god." He pointed at the DVD. "This was awesome. The one with the redhead who goes down on the janitor in the classroom --"

I waved my finger over my face in a desperate gesture to shut him up him and jerked my head back several times toward the yard to indicate we weren't alone. I had burned several porn videos on the DVD and given them to Tucker a couple of weeks earlier. Now he was returning it. I didn't think mom needed to hear his blow by blow review of the videos. Tucker got the hint and shut up.

"Mom's here," I whispered to him.

Tucker started looking over my shoulder.

"Oh," he said shifting gears. "Why didn't you say so. Can I, uh, say hello?"

"Sure," I said, and I ushered him through the gate, but as soon as I'd done so I wondered if I'd made a mistake.

Of all my friends, Tucker was the one who'd always taken the greatest joy in ogling my mom. When I was younger, I couldn't stand it. It wasn't something I'd had to deal with since my own feelings about mom had changed. I was still wrestling with how I felt about mom, and exactly what I wanted to do about those feelings, and Tucker's presence could only interfere with whatever plans I had with mom. Already, he had interfered with my hands' date with mom's hot, perky behind.

But, I'd invited him back, and I couldn't very well uninvite my best friend now. Tucker followed me along the path to the pool. I saw mom ahead, and I turned around so I could catch Tucker's expression when he saw her as well.

Tucker had stopped moving. His feet were rooted fast to the concrete path. His mouth was open. Tucker had seen my mom before in skimpy gym outfits, and even in a bikini or two. But he'd never seen her in a bikini like this one.

I wasn't sure his heart could handle it. That's only a slight exaggeration. Tucker had a steadfast aversion to exercise, and he wasn't in the best shape. He carried about 20 to 30 unneeded pounds around his middle. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure, and he followed me to the patio by the pool. Mom saw us and looked up at his in her dark sunglasses, which she took off as we approached.

"Well hi, Tucker," she said.

"Hi, Mrs. Crowley," said Tucker, his voice bursting with nervous eagerness.

"I'm going by my maiden name now, Tucker. It's Lund. But you know, you're an adult now, so you can call me 'Inga' if you like."

"Oh, I didn't know that. Sorry. Ms. Lund. Inga. Hmmm. I'm not sure about the first name thing, yet. I'll stick with 'Ms. Lund' if that's O.K. That's Norwegian, right?"

"Yah, it shore is," she said with a caricature of an accent, and flashed him a big smile. She took her glasses off and I guessed her green eyes distracted him for a second or two from staring at her exposed body. But probably not for longer than that. I knew the effect that seeing my mom dressed -- or, undressed, really -- like this was having on him. In the past, it would have bothered me. But not now. I was spending all my time thinking about how hot my mom was, and I now it turned me on to imagine Tucker thinking about her that way, too.

I didn't have to imagine it. His tongue practically was hanging out of his mouth.

Tucker was a nerd. He was a couple inches shorter than I was. He was physically lazy, and already had the beginning of a pot belly, and he had curly hair and wore thick dark glasses. But he talked a mile a minute, and had a kind of nerd charm that sometimes worked with the ladies. Last May he had sweet-talked his way into Kendra Kowalski's skirt, and he had been bragging about it to us all summer.

But now, in front of my mom, he was tongue-tied.

"What brings you here, Tucker?" she asked him sweetly.

"Oh, just dropping this off," he said, and he held the DVD up in front of him. "Randy let me borrow some . . . uh . . . class notes he saved to this . . . uh . . . DVD."

"I didn't know you were taking any classes together," she said, in a way that suggested she might be skeptical of Tucker's description of the DVD's contents.

"I was . . . auditing a class he's taking," Tucker replied. "To see if I wanted to take it."

"Well, it's nice to see you working together," she said. She shifted her legs in the recliner as she said it. She crossed her far, bent leg over the near one, and as she lay talking to us she moved the shoe on the foot of her far leg slowly up and down the calf of the other leg, as though to scratch an itch. Then she put the leg back on the other side, unbending and stretching out the leg nearer us and bending and raising her knee on the other leg still higher. The effect was to reveal more of the incredibly small red triangle of the bikini bottom to us.

"Are you going to stick around for a swim, Tucker?" she asked.

I didn't know what had gotten into my mom. I could swear she was showing off for him. Discreetly, not lasciviously, but it sure looked like she was showing off. She had to know the effect her movements were having on the way her body was exposed to us. I had never see her do anything like that before. Poor Tucker. He didn't say anything.

"No, Tucker has to leave," I said. "He's got some stuff to do, and he didn't bring a suit."

Tucker glared at me. I knew he was thinking I could have volunteered one of my suits. But I had other plans for the day, and he wasn't part of the plans. I wanted mom in her skimpy bikini for myself.

"It's been nice to see you, Tucker. Come by again soon," mom said.

"I will, thanks," he managed to say after getting his voice back. "See you later Mrs. C -- I mean, Ms. Lund."

Tucker and I walked into the house through the back door. I offered him a cold drink from the fridge.

"Randy," Tucker said. "I don't need a cold drink. I need a cold shower."

Instead of walking to the front door, he walked over to the big window in the living room that faced the back yard. He stared back at my mom, now lying back on the lounge chair with her sunglasses on, sideways to us.

"Your mom's Norwegian," he said. "That figures."

"Why is that?" I asked him.

"Norwegians are hot. Like, what's Norway offer? Fjords, and snow, and hot babes. I've said it before, Randy, but you have the hottest mom on the planet. I mean, holy shit. 'Inga.' She should be captain of the Norwegian MILF bikini team."

In the past, his words would have bothered me. They didn't now, but I wasn't going to let him know that. I acted like I was upset.

"Come on, Tucker, that's my mom."

"I know, man, but you're a guy, too, and she's a beautiful woman. Look at those abs, I could bounce quarters all day off those abs. And her toes. The nail polish matches the red suit. I could suck on those toes all day like popsicles."

"Tucker!" I said, acting like I was getting mad.

"Sorry, sorry," he said. "I know you've always been a little touchy about that. But you are a lucky guy."

He kept staring at her through the window.

"So, Randy, do you ever think about it?"

"Uh, think about what?"

"You know," he said, working up a sly smile. "You're single. Your mom's single. Divorced. Lonely. You're both adults. Ever think about you and your mom --"

"Tucker, stop. No, I do not think about her that way."

"O.K., O.K., no need to get mad," he said. "It's just . . . I can't imagine what it would be like every day to wake up to a mom who looks like a super model. A super fitness model. Those abs. Shit. And look at the muscle tone on those legs."

"Tucker --"

He stopped for a minute but didn't stop staring.

"I think it's time to move on, bud," I said.

He was squinting his eyes and pursing his lips like his mind was furiously working up a scheme of some kind.

"Does your mom like younger guys? I mean, if you're not going to make a play, maybe I could give her a call and --"

"Tucker, no," I said firmly with fake impatience. I was enjoying watching the effect my mom had on Tucker, but I was determined not to show it. "My mom is totally out your league, buddy."

"That is for sure," he said with a resigned sigh and turned to the front door. "O.K., I'm out of here. Thanks for the videos." He glanced back at mom through the window. "And the social visit."

I closed the door on Tucker and walked back to the living room, the large picture window framing the backyard with mom in the little red bikini in the center of the picture. My first thought was to go back to the poolside and resume spreading sun screen on mom's body. But mom already was turned over and reading a book again.

I got a different idea. There was something sort of thrilling about watching mom through the window without her knowing I was watching her. Thrilling in a different way from watching her while standing right in front of her. Lying on the lounge chair, mom and her body were fully on display for me, standing where I was. I focused on the window glass. It looked like it had been cleaned recently. It was clear, without smudges. Mom was engrossed in her book and had no idea I was looking at her.

I ran to my room. I grabbed my DSLR camera. I also grabbed a zoom lens that I'd bought at a bargain price from Best Deal as a return item by a disgruntled customer. I swapped the zoom lens for the regular lens, and I walked briskly back to the living room. I wanted to use the camera to zoom in on mom's body, without her seeing me, and I wanted to take photos of her in her bikini without her knowing it. I don't know why. I just wanted to do it.

But when I got back to the living room, mom no longer was lying on the lounge chair. She wasn't in the pool, either, or anywhere in the pool area, that I could see. Where was she?

Then I saw her figure walk from behind a bush, behind and to the left of the pool area. Mom was walking across the lawn. And she had gloves and garden shears in her hand!

It was odd. Mom liked gardening, and I'd seen her out in the garden in skimpy shorts and top, but I'd never seen her gardening in a bikini. Yet, there she was: walking around the yard almost naked looking for bushes to trim.

I had to get photos of her. I raised my camera, but before I could get the camera ready mom disappeared from view. She walked off to the left, to a part of the back yard that wasn't visible from the living room window because it was obscured by a clump of bushes.

Well, darn it, I thought. I wanted to take photos of mom gardening in her bikini, but she wasn't visible from where I stood.

I knew, however, that there was one place in the house from which I would be able to see that part of the yard, and see mom: her bedroom. I ran from the living room to her bedroom with my camera in hand.

On one wall of mom's bedroom a window opened onto a part of the backyard I could not see from the living room. When I got to mom's room I slowed quickly and sidled up slowly to the edge of the window. I wanted to see mom, but I didn't want her to see me.

I saw her. Ah, did I see her. She was turned away from me, on all fours, at the edge of the lawn, using the shears to clip dead flowers from a late-blooming bush.

She probably crouched about 50 feet away from me in a direct line. I put my camera to my eye and focused the zoom lens, zooming in slowly and carefully on mom's firm, sculpted, and bikini-clad butt. From this angle, mom's butt rose high in the air, and the tiny red bikini stretched thinly and tightly against her round, gym-sculpted behind.

I pushed the button to take several photos, zooming the lens in as much on mom's butt as I could while maintaining good exposure and focus.

Mom stood up from that position. She dumped the dead flower heads into a little pile in one place in the garden bed. I wondered what she would do next in the garden. My camera was ready to capture her, magnificent in the red and tiny bikini.

She didn't do anything at first. Instead, she looked around the yard. I saw her looking toward the backyard fence at various places. She wasn't looking at plants. I wondered what she was doing. It looked like she was trying to figure out if anyone could see her.

Then I saw her set the shears and the gloves on the garden bed just off the edge of the grass. And then she stood straight up and put her hands behind her back. Her hands worked at the red tie of her bikini top.

Mom removed her bikini top and pulled it off her and over her head. Then she dropped it to the garden bed next to the shears and the gloves, which she put back on.

Mom was going to do her gardening in the back yard, topless.

I watched through the window, fascinated, my camera down at my side. I was so struck by what mom was doing that at first I couldn't even think about taking photos of her. With her pert, firm breasts unfettered, the tiny red bottom was the only thing covering her body, and it barely covered her. Mom turned away from me, showing off her thick blonde hair spilling down her bare back, and the firm, mostly uncovered butt cheeks. I remembered my camera, finally. I pulled it up to my eye, zoomed in on mom's body with the adjustable lens, and started snapping photos.

She turned halfway toward me again, and now I saw her nearly nude body in profile. Mom's boobs weren't huge, but they looked bigger than they were jutting out from her slender frame. They showed little sag, and through the zoom lens I easily saw the erect, pink thimbles of her nipples standing out straight and saucy.

I don't know why mom had decided to trim the bushes topless, but it was one of the most exciting things I'd ever seen. And the excitement was heightened by the utter nonchalance mom seemed to show being almost naked in the back yard shearing leaves off bushes. She went about her business like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

She bent over to cut off some greenery closer to the ground, and I watched mesmerized through the lens as the firm mounds of her boobs hung down from her body. Gravity pulled them down. I imagined myself sitting on the garden bed, underneath her, my mouth open and waiting to accept her hanging tits with my lips and tongue.

Then she squatted to cut some dead flowers off the bottom of a bush. She squatted low, with her butt almost on her feet, and her knees spread wide open. I zoomed in still more to get a closeup of the red bikini bottom stretched tightly over the flesh between her legs. I snapped several more photos of her.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I held on to the camera with one hand, but with the other I pushed my shorts down until my cock sprang loose. I seized it and started stroking. My mind was in an erotic frenzy over my mom, whose every action seemed to be driving me crazy with voyeuristic lust. I looked down at my cock and felt how hard it was, squeezed between my fingers. Already, precum was flowing from the tip, and the extra lubrication made me harder still.

I must have gotten distracted by what I was doing for a couple of minutes, because when I looked back out the window mom wasn't there. Where had she gone? I wondered.

I heard the back door open and bang shut, suddenly. Then, I heard mom's wedge sandals on the floor. I could tell she was coming this way.

Shit, I thought. I looked around frantically. In less than 20 seconds mom would be coming through the bedroom door, and she'd see me standing next to her bedroom window with my erect dick in one hand and my camera with zoom lens in the other. Even a dummy would know exactly what I had been doing, and mom was no dummy. There was no exit from the bedroom other than the bedroom door, and I didn't want mom to see me running out of her room with the camera.

I looked to the bathroom. I could try to hide in there, but mom probably would go in there to shower or take a leak, and if she did she would see me, and I didn't know how I'd explain that.

I turned every which way. I heard her footsteps. I had no time left to decide what to do.

I saw the bed. It was my only option. I ducked down and pushed myself under it. In the cramped space, I turned around and pulled myself back from the edge of the bed just as I saw mom's bare legs and sandal-clad feet enter her room.

The bed was king-sized, a holdover from the marriage, so it offered plenty of room to hide. A thick cotton skirt hung down over the bottom mattress, to within a few inches above the floor. If I was very quiet and kept my face and limbs away from the edge, there was an excellent chance that mom wouldn't see me. If she went into the bathroom, I might be able to make a quick escape without her ever knowing I had been in her room.

From my view point under the bed, I couldn't see any of mom above her calves. She kicked off her sandals. Then she walked to the bathroom. I was hopeful she would go in and take a shower and give me a chance to get away.

But she didn't go in the bathroom. She opened the bathroom door and pulled it back. The inside of the door was covered by a full-length mirror, and mom pulled the door back far enough that I could see the reflection of her legs and feet in it.

She just stood there. I couldn't tell what she was doing with her upper body, so I moved my face a little closer to the edge of the bed. Her upper thighs and the bikini bottom came into view. Mom stood with her butt toward me and her legs apart, and I had a great view of the red fabric narrowing as it descended over her butt cheeks and gathered in a thin strip in the delicious gap between her thighs. Before I could take stock of what I was seeing I saw the bikini top drop to the floor. Then I saw a hand reach down to her hip bone and draw quickly on the string tied there. The knot untied at once with a fast pull, and then the bikini bottom dropped to the floor at her feet next to the top.

Mom stood naked in front of the mirror. Her position and the angle of the mirror gave me two views at once of her pussy. I could just make out the shadowy slit between her legs from behind and underneath, and I could see the front of her pussy reflected in the mirror as well, with a trim patch of blondish hair lying right over it.

It was like a fantasy, seeing my mom like that. I felt a little guilty spying on her from under the bed, but my guilt was overwhelmed by the joy and arousal of seeing her exposed, nude body. Then the fantasy became even better, because the hand at mom's side moved to her front, and she toyed with her pussy with two fingers. At first, she held the fingers together and rubbed them over the nub of her clit, but then she moved them down into the flesh of her lips. I had to adjust myself slightly, as quietly as I could, because my cock was uncomfortably hard between my body and the bedroom floor.

Then mom moved away from the mirror, and I saw her bare legs walking around the side of the bed. I heard a drawer to her nightstand being opened, and I felt the mattress shake, like she was moving the bed covers around. Mom's legs walked back to the mirror. I saw a pillow drop to the floor. And then, wonder of wonders, I saw mom sit down on the floor, facing the mirror, her back to the pillow. And she spread her legs. I kept far enough under the bed that I couldn't see her face, but I saw her holding a slender pink rod in one hand, with a bulb at one end. It was a vibrator. I heard it begin buzzing when she turned it on.

Mom was going to masturbate in front of the mirror, and I was going to watch.

It was a tricky angle, because her back was to me, but I could see her pussy reflected in the mirror through her bent, open legs. It was the best view of it I'd had yet. Mom kept a patch of hair over her clit, but the lips of the pussy themselves had been shaved, so nothing was obscured. The outer lips, bare and gently mounded, framed her slit. She held the vibrator above her pussy, and I saw her push it down slowly on and past the clit until it dipped into the tender flesh beneath. Then the pink bulb dipped further, fully inside her, and her lips closed over it.

She held it like that for a full minute, and I heard the buzz grow louder when she must have adjusted a setting on the vibrator. Mom started rocking the head of the vibrator in and out of her, and I saw the thin lips of her pussy rise and fall like waves over the pink bulbous head.

I was excited and aroused beyond belief, but I couldn't do anything about it. My crotch was pressed against the floor, leaving me no room to stroke myself. And even if I had had room, I could not have started masturbating without risk of exposing myself to mom. I couldn't do that, no matter how great my need.

I could hear mom panting over the steady buzz of the vibrator, and her spread legs occasionally twitched or jerked this way or that. She arched her back against the pillow, and she put a hand, the one without the vibrator in it, in back of her on the floor to hold her up.

Slowly, and as quietly as I could, I pulled my camera in front of my face, and I focused the lens on mom. I was so close to her, and the zoom lens so powerful, that the view through the lens was blurry at first, but I adjusted the lens until the view was clear. Once I did that, I could see mom's pussy in the most amazing, intimate detail -- the thin, inner lips stretched over the vibrator head, the film of moisture that framed her opening, and even a little milky fluid gathering at the lower edge of her pussy and beginning to flow down the skin between her lean legs.

Then mom lowered her arched back and set her shoulders against the pillow. She raised her feet, which had been set on the ground with her toes pointed. She put her legs in the air, still holding them spread open as before.

By lying back and holding her legs in the air, mom exposed more of the area between her legs, until the puckered star of her anus came into my view. The hand that had supported her when she was sitting up and leaning back went to her butt cheek, and in the mirror I saw fingers pressing forward from the side of her ass toward her asshole. She snaked a single finger toward its destination until the tip rested right on the hole and began tracing tiny circles around it.

Then the finger pushed forward further, sliding beyond the tight rim of the hole and into her. Her finger was buried in her ass to the first knuckle. I saw her push still more. Her finger had disappeared into her asshole up to the second knuckle. I saw it twitching, and I knew mom was moving her finger around inside her ass.

Mom now was going hard at both her holes, one with a finger and one with the slender vibrator. And I was there, miraculously, to see her doing it. I had to take a photo. I had to. It would be risky, because taking it would make a small noise, but I thought there was a better than even chance that the sound would be masked by the vibrator's steady, loud buzz and mom's heavy breathing.

I held the camera in place and focused. It was hard to maintain focus because of the dim indoor light and because of the constant jerking of mom's body under the assault of her finger and the vibrator. But I was determined. I would take one shot -- no more. I couldn't risk making more noise than that.

Mom's breathing sped up and her legs spasmed and jerked in the air. I knew she would come soon, and I had to take the photo before she came and turned the vibrator off. It was getting harder to get a shot because of the constant, jerky movement of her legs. But then she pulled the vibrator up and out of her pussy, and the lips gave way and the maw of her sex remained open as the tip of the vibrator lay against her nubby, exposed clit. She splayed her legs even farther. Everything came into view. I chanced it, and I took the photo.

The camera made a quiet but noticeable -- to me -- click, which I hoped was muffled by the bed skirt and the noises mom was making. She showed no sign of hearing it; her body kept jerking and tensing as the moment of orgasm obviously approached.

And then the orgasm came. Mom's thin frame arched over the bedroom carpet and her legs straightened and her whole body shook. She let out a long, thin, high-pitched gasp. Her finger remained in her ass but she obviously struggled to keep the vibrator on her wildly bucking body.

I could see her body swept by the orgasm as she brought her feet down on the ground. Visible tremors swept across her body like waves. Like ripples on a pond, they flowed back and forth through her damp, nude body until they receded and her body grew still. Her high-pitched panting became slower and quieter.

She quieted down, and I didn't dare move. Because mom lay back on the floor, her head was visible, and if she had turned her head and looked my way she might have seen me under the bed. Fortunately, she didn't.

After what seemed like ages, but probably only was a few minutes, mom sat up. She sat for another minute with her legs open in front of the mirror. I couldn't see her face or upper body, but I had the impression she was appraising her spent and orgasm-wracked body. I looked through the zoom lens; the entire area between her legs was shiny with moisture.

Finally, mom grabbed the bikini pieces and stood up. Her legs looked unsteady, and she staggered, slightly, to the bathroom.

I heard water in the sink, and then I heard the shower turned on.

This was my time to get away.

I crawled from under the bed on the side opposite the bathroom door. I peeked around the edge of the bed. I couldn't see all the way into the bathroom from where I was, but it looked like it was clear. I darted from my spot next to the bed to the door, and as quietly as I could I turned the knob, opened the door enough to let me through, and closed it behind me.

I let out a quiet sigh. I'd made it.

I ran back to my room, stealthily at first, and then with abandon as my need for relief took over. I shut the door behind me and pushed my shorts down and off in a rapid sweep of my hand.

I needed relief more desperately than I ever had before, but I needed something else, first.

I hooked my camera up to my computer with a USB cord. A pushed a few buttons with frantic fingers. The files from camera downloaded quickly, but it didn't feel quick; it felt agonizingly slow. Finally, it was done and I scrolled through the photos until I found the last one. I had to see how it had turned out before I let myself release.

I saw it. It had turned out.

In my photo of her, mom lay on the floor with outstretched legs, a finger from one hand buried in her anus and the pink bulb of the vibrator pressed to clit, her delicate lips peeled back underneath, exposing her damp and pink flesh.

It wasn't the clearest photo I'd ever taken, but it was clear enough, and the resolution was remarkable given the circumstances, my shaking hands, and the awkward vantage point.

More to the point, it was the hottest photo I'd ever taken or seen in my life. My cock pointed, steel-hard, toward the image, and I no more than touched the tip of my cock head with two fingers before my restraint gave way and I erupted, spurt after spurt, uncontrollably, and, once again, all over the place. I pushed my cock down and most of my cum landed on the carpet, but some of it landed on my desk top and a few dozen drops of translucent milky fluid stuck to the lower edge of my computer monitor. The sheer quantity of it rivaled the gusher I'd had the first time I jerked off to the site of mom's lovely pussy, days earlier.

I lay back in back in my desk chair, panting and naked below the waist.

My god, my god, my god.

I looked at the cum all over the place. I'd left myself with quite a mess to clean up.

But it was worth it..

194 My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 04

SimonDoom

After watching my mom masturbate from under her bed, a switch flipped inside me.

Before that day, I had wanted to see mom naked. But actually seeing her naked like that changed everything. What I felt now wasn't just a sneaky desire; it was a consuming passion. I could hardly look at mom without getting aroused. I spent hours and days tip-toeing around mom and retreating behind walls and counters so she wouldn't see the embarrassing tent that constantly filled my shorts.

I craved the next opportunity to see mom naked, or in her bikini, or in anything skimpy. But for several days, the opportunity didn't come. Either I was too busy, or mom was too busy, but for whatever reason, nothing happened. I had to satisfy myself with late-night stroke sessions to photos of mom on my computer.

At times during those few days, mom seemed preoccupied, even a little distant. I caught her looking at me a few times, like she wanted to say something to me, but when our eyes met she looked away and didn't say anything.

One night, she went on a date with a man she met through a web site. They met for drinks at a bar. Mom told me later that the guy was arrogant and pushy, and she left him after a quick drink with a lame excuse. So much for her first post-divorce date.

I felt bad for her that the date hadn't gone well, but I felt glad, too. I admit I felt a little jealous about mom dating. I liked having mom to myself.

One morning a few days later, I emerged from my bedroom, still waking up and in my usual morning attire of shorts and a t shirt, and I saw mom making coffee in the kitchen. She was wearing the short, white, cotton robe again. Her legs and feet were bare, as before. This time her hair was dry and combed. The sight of the bare skin of her legs and chest under the robe once again put my body in a state of high alert.

"Hello, Randy." She looked up at me and smiled. It was a half-smile, not her usual big smile. She poured herself a cup of coffee and handed me a glass already full of orange juice.

"Follow me," she said. "I think we should chat."

We walked to the sofa in the living room, which had become our place to have serious conversations. I sat down on one end of the sofa, and mom sat at the other. This time she sat with her legs folded under her, as demurely as she could in the short robe. With one hand, she gathered the edges of the robe together under her neck.

She seemed to take a moment to collect herself, and took a sip of her coffee, and then she looked at me.

"Randy, there have been some things going on lately that we should talk about. Things between us."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I think you know what I mean." She paused. "I know you've been watching me."

I didn't know what she knew and I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to play dumb and sound dishonest, but I didn't want to reveal everything I'd seen, either.

"Mom . . . what do you mean? What are you talking about?"

"Randy," she said. "I know you were under my bed the other day. Watching me."

Holy shit, I thought. I felt like sinking into a deep hole.

"How did you . . . when did you . . . " I tried to get the words out but was having trouble.

She interrupted me.

"You left the lens cap to your camera in my room," she said. "I figured you were taking pictures of me in the back yard from the bedroom. So, when you weren't around I checked your computer. You were careless. I just turned the monitor on and entered the password. You haven't changed it since you were a kid. You left the folder with the photos of me open on the computer. I saw the photo you took under the bed. I saw the other photos, too."

My jaw dropped. She continued.

"I'm sorry I invaded your privacy that way, but I was pretty sure you were spying on me and I wanted to know what you were doing. I also saw traces of . . . well . . . traces of you, dried on your desk, that you hadn't cleaned up completely. I figured out what you were doing."

I felt like I was a foot high, and shrinking fast. I wanted to sink into the ground, to disappear.

"Mom," I said. "The photos -- you saw ALL the photos I took?"

"I saw all of them," she said.

I let that sink in. If mom had seen all the photos, she knew everything.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I got excited and I got carried away. When I took that photo of you on the sofa, I didn't even know what was in it. And then I saw it on my computer when I got back to my room, and I got carried away, and I couldn't help myself. And since then, it's been . . . . I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

"I know, Randy," she said. "You don't need to say it. I'm not angry with you."

That took me by surprise.

"You're not?" I asked her. I was relieved but also amazed.

"No. I'm not mad."

She seemed to be steeling herself to say something difficult.

"I think we should be honest with each other. I'm going to be honest with you. This is hard for me to say. But you are an adult, and I think I need to talk to you about this."

She cleared her throat.

"That night you took photos of me on the sofa, after we'd gone running together, I could tell you were looking at me in a different way, like you were sneaking peeks at me," she said. "I noticed you checking me out after our run together, when I was stretching, and then later in the kitchen. I'd never seen you do that before. And, I have to admit -- it's embarrassing to me to admit this -- I enjoyed it. It made me feel a way I haven't felt in a long time. You know the divorce was hard on me. I've felt old, and less attractive since then.

"You're my son, but you're also a handsome young man. And the way you looked at me -- it made me feel good. I wanted it to continue. So, I put on those little shorts. And I left my panties off. I didn't plan to show off . . . you know . . . down there. But I didn't try to prevent you from seeing it, either. I think a part of me knew it was a risk. When we were sitting on the sofa, I knew you were checking out my legs. I enjoyed that feeling.

"And then on my birthday, you were so sweet. You got me roses. You got me the skimpy running outfit and the bikini. I felt funny about posing in those tiny shorts and the bra top in front of you, but it felt so good at the same time. And you kept taking photos of me and telling me how good I looked.

"And later that night, I knew you were outside my door. I was using my vibrator. I was thinking about the way you were looking at me while I was using it. I heard you outside, and I guessed you were jerking off. It made me come right away. Later on, I went into the bathroom. I saw your, well, your semen, on the bathroom counter. You hadn't cleaned it all it up."

"I'm sorry, mom," I said. "I feel really bad about this --"

"No," she said. "Don't feel bad. This isn't just you. Since that birthday night I've been teasing you. I wore the red bikini and wanted you to see me in it. I put my panties out on the bed, and I thought you might take a pair. And I was right. You did."

Mom's words came pouring out, like a confession. There was guilt in her voice, but not just guilt. There was a tone of relief, and of release.

"The other day, when I wore the bikini by the pool," she said, "I thought you might be spying on me from the house when you didn't come back after Tucker left. I took my top off -- I didn't plan that. It was a crazy, spur-of-the moment thing. And then I came in the house and I thought I might catch you, but I didn't. I didn't know you were in the room until after I saw the lens cap and checked your computer later."

She looked at me, calmly, a little nervously, but without reproach or guilt.

"I was surprised at the photos you had taken. I didn't realize it had gone that far. I didn't know how to talk to you about it. I don't blame you; to some degree I've been leading you on, so I'm to blame as well. I thought we should be honest about it. That's why I wanted this talk."

I was letting it all sink in. I was surprised mom told me she had known what I'd done, but I was even more surprised about what she'd done and felt.

"So you enjoyed it?" I asked her.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"You knew I was looking at you," I said. "You knew I masturbated outside your door while you were using a vibrator. And it turned you on. And it made you want to show off more for me. And you did."

"I don't know about that, Randy, I --"

"Wait, mom," I interrupted. "You said we should be honest. Well, I'll be honest. I did look at you. I ogled you. I enjoyed it. I think I'm kind of a voyeur. And you just happen to be the most gorgeous mom I've ever seen. And in recent days, I've seen you . . . naked. Completely exposed. And it excited the hell out of me.

"It still does," I added.

"But you liked it too, you showing off for me. You even liked showing off for Tucker in that red bikini; I could tell.

"Mom, I think you are an exhibitionist," I said. "Or you've got a streak of it in you."

As I said it, I couldn't help but notice the glimpses of mom's thighs and her cleavage peeking out from under the little robe as she squirmed on the sofa.

"I think that's right," she said. "I admit that. I have an exhibitionist streak. It was a thrill to me to be watched, and I gave in to that thrill with you, and I'm sorry for that."

"Mom," I said. "You don't have to apologize. Don't say you're sorry. I didn't know everything you just told me. I didn't know you were aware I -- that I beat off to you. I'm glad you've told me. I feel bad about sneaking around spying on you. But mom, I loved it. I loved looking at you. If you think about it -- you being an exhibitionist and me a voyeur. We're a good match." I said it with a sheepish grin.

"I don't know about that," she said. "That's not a normal part of a mother-son relationship."

"I don't know if it's normal or not," I said, "but I don't think it's bad. I don't think we've done anything wrong."

Mom rolled her eyes.

"Mom," I said. "Let you ask you: how long have you known this about yourself? How long have you been an exhibitionist?"

She paused.

"I guess I've always liked being looked at," she said. "I was in the drama club when I was in school, and I liked being on stage. I was a cheerleader, and I liked wearing the short skirts and knowing people were looking at me. In college I went streaking once, and my best friend and I went to a nude beach a few times."

"Dad must have known about it," I said. "Did he? What did he think about it?"

"That's kind of personal, Randy," she said.

"Mom, I watched you masturbate. I saw you with your legs open. That's as personal as it gets. I saw your cunt. You and I are way beyond personal."

She winced when I said the word "cunt" but I had a point to make and I kept pressing it.

"You took your top off in the back yard and wanted me to see you. You wanted me to see your boobs. I did, and I loved it. And you loved it too. You said be honest, so let's be honest. Tell me about you and dad. Did he like it? What did he think about this part of you. Did he like to show you off?"

Mom obviously had to think about her answer before she replied.

"It didn't happen right away in our marriage," she said, reluctantly at first. "We got married young, and you were born not long after we got married. For a long time we were focused on you and your dad was working hard. I stayed home with you for a most of my twenties. But then at some point when you were a little older and didn't need watching over so much, your dad got this thing about wanting to expose me. I'm sorry, this is funny to talk about. It feels awkward."

"Mom, it's not awkward for me," I said. "Tell me. Go on."

"We did little things at first, like having me go out wearing a skirt and no panties. One in a while he would ask me to flash someone in a restaurant."

"And you did?" I urged.

"I did," she said.

"And you liked it?"

"I did like it. I liked showing off my body, and it turned me on that it turned him on. He kept buying me bikinis, and it seemed like they kept getting smaller and smaller. And then he wanted me to go topless on the beach. So we went to beaches that weren't topless beaches, but where we thought we could get away with it. And I took my top off. It really turned him on, and it turned me on."

"You liked your bare tits being on display, in public, where everyone could see them?"

"Those weren't the words I was going to use, but, yes, I liked it. And I liked that he liked it. Until a certain point. And then he didn't like it, and it stopped."

"What happened?" I asked.

She took a loud sip from her coffee.

"This is embarrassing to tell you about," she said. "I don't know if I should."

"Come on, mom. Don't stop now. I want to know. Tell me."

"We went to a beach one day. Probably about six years ago. It wasn't a nude beach, but there was an area, set off by some rocks, where it was kind of understood that you could be nude and no one would bother you. So we went there, and Dan had us sit right on the edge of the so-called nude area and the non-nude area. He put the blanket down right at the distance from the water where the maximum number of people walking along the beach would be close to us. And then he had me get naked. He kept his suit on. Your dad liked that idea -- of him being clothed and me naked. "

"What happened then?" I asked.

"He told me to spread my legs open. Wide open, so anyone walking by would see me, and see my . . . between my legs."

"You mean your pussy," I said. "Say it, mom. Say 'pussy.'"

"My pussy," she said. "He wanted people to see my pussy. He looked at me and said 'Inga, I want you to spread your legs and show your pussy. I want people to see your wet pussy.' He didn't say it in a dirty way. He said it like you'd say 'Pass the chips.'"

"And you liked it," I said. "You liked showing your pussy."

"I loved it. I loved having my pussy on display like that. It turned me on so much. But it wouldn't have been the same if I'd just been sitting there alone. What I loved was that he was telling me to show off, and I was showing off for him. It sounds funny to say it, but I remember thinking how much I loved him in that moment."

"So, what happened?" I asked.

"I lay back on that blanket, with the sun shining down on my naked body. He put sun screen on my body, really slowly, lathering it on. And I remember him holding my leg to the side as he put it on me, so my pussy would remain exposed. People walking by could see me naked and on display, and my husband was making it easier for them by holding my legs open. And we acted very nonchalant, like it was no big deal, even though it was a really big deal for me. And I kept my legs open. I have no idea how many people passed by us. Maybe a hundred. Maybe more. Every single one of them saw my pussy. Some of them tried to hide the fact that they looked at it. Some of them looked away quickly. Some of them didn't -- a few even stared or did double takes. But everyone looked.

"And then I got the idea to take it a little further. I was having so much fun showing off for your dad. So I looked at him to make sure he saw what I was doing, and then I reached down between my legs, and I spread it open."

"You spread what open?" I asked her. "Say it. Tell me everything. Say the words."

"I spread my pussy open," she said. "I took my fingers and I pushed the lips back, as far as they could go. When I took my fingers away, the lips still were peeled back. All the way, and they stayed that way."

She stopped.

"I can't believe I'm telling you this, Randy," she said. "You must think your mom is perverted."

"No, mom, I don't," I said. "I don't at all. I'm glad you're telling me this. Please keep going."

She nodded slowly and continued.

"After I . . . spread myself open like that, when people walked by, then didn't just see my pussy. They saw me wide open. Inside. When no one was walking by, I even pulled out a little hand mirror from my bag, and I held it down between my legs so I could see exactly what I was showing off. My pussy was so wide open you could see deep inside it. It was like a pink, wet tunnel. I'm not sure but I think there was even some moisture dripping out of it, just a little. It made me think all these thoughts. Lewd thoughts. I thought, that's where my husband fucks me. That's where his cock goes. And he's put me on a show here so everyone can see where his cock goes when he fucks me."

"And you liked that," I said.

"I loved it," she said. She looked far away when she said it, like she wasn't next to me, but on the beach again. "I loved that feeling. It was one of the most arousing feelings I ever had. And it was . . . I don't know exactly how to say it . . . it was so satisfying. Even though it was wrong, I guess, it felt so right sitting like that, next to Dan."

"How did dad like it?" I asked.

Mom didn't answer right away.

"That's the funny thing, the sad thing," she said. "He didn't. He didn't like it. I crossed a line. I don't mean just the amount of exposure. He didn't like that I took control, that it was my decision to open myself up further. I don't think he realized until that minute that it wasn't all about him, that this was something I really, deeply enjoyed, that I craved it. I think it scared him. I think when he realized that my exhibitionism was more than just my doing what he wanted it was scary to him, and it was no longer sexy.

"He got quiet after he saw me do that. And we left the beach not much later. In the car I knew something was wrong, and I tried to talk about it, but he didn't want to.

"We never did anything like that again. That was the end of him showing me off. And we never talked about it. And that's when our marriage took a turn. It was never the same after that. I felt like he looked at me in a different way."

After she finished we sat quietly on the sofa for a few minutes. She sipped her coffee and I finished my orange juice.

"Other than wearing short skirts or sometimes wearing bikinis," mom said, "I never did anything exhibitionist after that. Until the last few days, that is." She grinned uneasily.

"And how do you feel about that?" I asked. "What you've done the last few days?"

"Guilty," she said. "But I enjoyed it, too. I have to admit that. How do you feel about it? How do you feel about what I've said?"

"I feel great," I said. "And hearing you talk about the past makes me feel better about it. This is who you are. It's who we are. You like being looked at, and you like being looked at by me. It turns you on. And I like looking at you, and watching you show off. It turns me on.

"Mom, we've both masturbated over your showing your body to me. I can't turn that clock back. I can't stop being turned on by you. And I think if you're honest you'll admit you can't stop being turned on by it, either. The only way I could stop would be to move out, so I wouldn't be around you. And I don't want to do that. I don't think you want that, either."

She didn't say anything.

"Mom, I want to hear you say it," I said. "Admit you want to show off. Admit you were excited knowing I liked looking at you."

"I admit I like showing off," she said. "Yes, it was flattering and exciting to know you were looking at me. But that doesn't make it right. We have to set some limits, Randy. There have to be some boundaries. I'm your mother. You're my son."

"I accept that," I said. "I agree. I want boundaries, too."

"Well, I'm glad. So we agree we need to limit what we do, right?" she asked me.

"Of course, we should have limits. We should have boundaries," I said. "But mom, we don't need to limit everything."

"What do you mean?" she asked, suspicion and skepticism in her voice.

"You've admitted to me that you like showing off. You're an exhibitionist. I like watching you. I'm a voyeur, I guess you'd call it. Let's face it, you've shown your entire body to me -- everything -- and I loved it. I loved seeing it more than anything I've ever seen. And you liked it too. You want us to be honest with each other -- well, let's be honest. You enjoyed me looking at you. It turned you on. It still turns you on."

She didn't say anything. She didn't dispute what I said. She obviously was wrestling with what to say to me in reply. I pressed on before she could say anything.

"Mom," I said, "You've wanted to show yourself off ever since that time at the beach, when dad reacted badly. Well, I'm not like dad. I want you to show yourself off. I want you to feel free to do that. With me. In front of me. If you think about it, I'm the perfect person to do it in front of. I'll always love you and support you. I'll never hurt you or reject. And we can set appropriate boundaries."

Mom looked intently at me, her face tense and questioning.

"How do you suggest we do that, Randy?" she asked.

"I have an idea," I said. "We can talk about limits, right here, right now. We can make an agreement about what we will and won't do. We'll both agree to respect the boundaries we set. But first, there's something you need to do."

"What's that?" she asked softly.

It was all clear to me now, in a flash. I knew what I wanted to do; I knew what I wanted her to do. And I thought it would work for both of us. But I had to ask this one thing of her. I knew it was risky, but I had to ask her.

"Mom, take your robe off."

"What?" she said.

"Take your robe off," I said. "Right now. Sit in front of me without your robe."

"How is that setting boundaries?" she asked.

"Take your robe off and I'll show you," I said.

I could tell from the changing expression on her face -- the twists of the mouth and the eyebrows -- that she was wrestling inside with my suggestion.

But she didn't wrestle long. Keeping her eyes on mine, mom reached down and undid the sash around her waist. Then she pulled the robe back and off her shoulders. She lifted her butt to pull the robe off her legs.

Mom wore French-cut white lace panties, and nothing more. Her full, beautiful breasts were bare. She sat no more than three feet from me. Her legs lay under her, with her butt on her feet, and she held her hands down at her side, fingertips on the sofa. She was magnificent. Her breasts were full and ripe, and a little paler where the bikini top had hidden them from the sun. The panties were no more than about an inch wide on the side, and they sat high on her hip but dipped low in the middle, exposing the upper part of her pubic bone. I thought I saw a few stray blond hairs peeking out the top. Mom sat in that position, not saying anything, demure and quiet, staring at me.

"Mom, you are so beautiful," I said.

"Thank you," she said, in not much more than a whisper.

"Come here," I beckoned to her with my hand. "Sit on my lap."

"Randy --"

"Just do it, mom," I said. "I'll explain, but I want you to sit on my lap while I do."

She delayed for a moment, but she came to me. She got off her heels and scooted across the sofa, into my lap. Her legs lay out in front of her. Her hands lay, one over the other, in her lap. She looked down, and I thought I saw her lip quiver.

I put my arms around her, one around her shoulder, and one lightly on her waist -- nothing sexual.

"Mom, look at me," I said. She did. We looked into each other's eyes.

"I love you, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Randy."

"I know," I said. "And this is part of our love. I like to see you like this. I want to continue to see you like this, and I want you to continue showing yourself to me. I think we would both like that.

"We need to set some boundaries, so we will. Here's my idea: look, but don't touch. You're going to keep getting naked. You're going to show yourself off to me, and I'm going to watch you. And I'm going to keep masturbating to you. And you're going to masturbate when you do it, too. We can't pretend that's not going to happen, so we should be honest. Maybe we can even do it in front of each other. I'd like that. We'll see.

"But we won't fuck. I won't fuck you, mom. And to preserve our boundaries, to keep that from happening, I won't touch you down there. I won't touch your pussy."

"Or . . . " she started to say.

"Or your asshole. I will leave your asshole alone. And I won't touch your tits. And you won't touch my cock."

"I think it's a little late for that, already, tiger," she said, "if you know what I mean." She looked down toward my lap.

My cock was rock hard and straining up against the cloth of my shorts, and I know she felt it pushing against her. In fact, the head of my cock was pushing somewhere between her legs, probably very close to her pussy, shrouded only by a thin layer of white lace.

"That's different," I said. "My clothes are between us. That's why I kept my shorts on now. Nothing can happen when we're like this. But when I'm naked, you won't touch my cock.

"So how does that sound to you?" I asked.

"It sounds weird, Randy," she said. "I don't know about this. I'm not sure if we should."

"Mom, listen to yourself. Should. The word 'should' has nothing to do with this. Don't think in terms of 'should.' Look at you. You're on my lap, practically naked, and my arms are around you. We both want this. We're not doing anything wrong, and deep inside you, you know this isn't wrong and nothing harmful is going to happen because of it. So, how about it? How about working with those boundaries?"

Her head bobbed around. She was struggling with the idea. But she spoke at last.

"O.K.," she said at last. "We can give it a try. But we have to be strict about the limits or it can't work."

Her arms were up, around my shoulders. Her fingernails scraped lovingly against the nape of my neck. The feeling of it was magical.

I smiled at my beautiful, naked mother. And then I kissed her. A quick, gentle peck on the nose.

"I agree, mom," I said.

I pulled back and we both looked at each other lovingly, and then I moved closer again and I gave her another kiss, a soft little kiss, to the side of her mouth. Then with my hand I gently turned her face up so I could plant a row of soft kisses on her chin, and then down her neck. I heard mom purr. Then with my hand I turned her face back to mine, and we looked into each other's eyes, and then I kissed her on the lips.

I kissed her softly at first, and she returned the kiss. I pressed harder, and she did too.

Soon we were kissing each other, deeply and passionately. I pushed my tongue past her lips into her mouth, and it sought her tongue. Our tongues danced together as our open mouths pressed against each other. In that moment, I wanted all of her, I wanted nothing to be held back. I was delirious with desire. I never had kissed such a beautiful woman.

You know that magical moment when you kiss a girl for the first time, a girl you've wanted and pined after? That magical moment where all those new sensations envelope you at once -- the taste of her mouth, the scent of her neck, the feel of her waist and breasts under your eager hands?

This moment was like that, only ten times better. Mom was not only in my arms, but nearly naked. She wasn't a girl, she was my mom. My hands were pressed against the bare, luminous skin of her waist. Her full breasts were inches from me, her tits nearly pressed against my shirt. I reached a hand out and ran it through her thick blond hair.

We kissed, on and on. I was careful with my hands. I held her tightly against me, and I moved my hands against her back and shoulders in broad circles, but I kept them away from her breasts and from between her legs.

I gestured toward her leg.

"Come here, mom," I said. "Swing this leg around to the other side of me. I want you to face me."

Mom complied. She straddled me. Her legs parted. I saw the thin strip of lace between her legs, and the bare skin on either side of the strip. It would have taken no effort to slip a finger under that lace strip, and to run it up and down the delicate lips of her pussy. She was excited, I could tell, and I don't think she would have stopped me if I'd tried. But I didn't. We had just set some boundaries, and I needed to show mom that I could stick to them.

But within those boundaries, there was a lot we could do.

I continued kissing her, deeply and ardently. She kissed me back just as vigorously, and I heard a small moan well up from her chest.

I decided to push things -- just a little. I pushed my lap up against her, just a bit. My erection pressed directly against the lace-covered mound between her legs. I pressed it like that several times, just barely, enough that she would feel it, but no so hard that she would worry I would lose control.

And then I felt her push back. My cock was a thick rod, pointed straight up under the shorts and ending just an inch from the waist band. Mom began pushing her mound against it, the lace-covered panties dragging several inches along my length. She pulled her panty-clad pussy mound back, and then she pushed it against me again.

The pushing became a steady, rhythmic rocking, her lace-layered pussy against my shorts-covered cock.

I slid a hand down to her bottom, uncovered by the lace thong back. My other hand held her firmly on the side. I shifted position, and I began pressing against her, pushing her down and back against the sofa. Soon I was on top of her.

Her legs lifted and squeezed my waist, and I felt her feet cross and lock behind me. We kept rocking our hips against each other.

My lips pressed against hers. Neither of us wanted to come up for air. Our mouths remained against one another, tightly and urgently, as our tongues danced and explored one another. I felt her grind her hips against me gently. Whatever boundaries we had set, we were pushing against them.

My hand remained on her ass, and I squeezed it, gently at first and then with greater strength. My fingertips reached forward until they were only inches from the cleft between her cheeks. With just a little forward movement I could have run my finger up and down the crack, pushing under her thong, or probed her asshole, or pushed it between the folds of her pussy. I wanted to. But we had agreed on setting some boundaries, and, as difficult as it was to hold back, I did.

We kissed and writhed and grabbed each other like that for a long time -- I don't know how long.

The entire time we writhed and clutched each other on the sofa, mom's legs were spread and her lace-covered pussy was pressed firmly against my hard cock, nothing more than a millimeter or so of fabric separating my cock and her pussy. She was moving back and forth and rocking her hips against me the whole time. But -- and I know this is hard to believe -- I wasn't thinking about that. Instead, I was thinking about mom's lips and mouth, and how much I craved them, and the feeling of my mouth and lips on hers. I couldn't get enough of kissing mom. The tip of her tongue entered my mouth, and my tongue pushed back.

But if my mind was focused on kissing my mom, my body was responding to the grinding motion of her covered pussy on my cock. Our steady dry-humping was bringing me near climax. My breathing grew more ragged and urgent and I moaned "mom, mom" between our kisses.

I picked up the pace of the grinding on mom's mound. I didn't care that my efforts would fill my shorts with sticky cum. The faster pace seemed to accelerate mom's arousal as well; soon the pace of her breathing and her higher-pitched moans matched mine.

"Randy, Randy," she called softly.

Then I felt the release coming, and I pushed my hips and cock forward against her in big, urgent sweeps to bring my need for release to fruition. Then I felt it: thick spurt after thick spurt of sticky wetness inside my shorts. My body shook and I nearly pulled away from mom, but she held my butt with her hand and said "Don't stop, I'm almost there!" A few seconds after I was done I felt mom's back arch, and she shuddered with relief and joy as well.

After we finished my body collapsed against and on top of her. I held the side of my face against hers and my lean, firm chest mashed down against her full, ripe breasts.

We lay like that for minutes -- I don't know how many. Five, ten, I don't know. A surge of pleasure swept my body and I almost dozed. But not quite. I remained alert and awake despite the thick feeling of spent pleasure that coursed through my body.

I pulled away from mom and stood up and over her, looking down on her. She lay back on the sofa with arms thrown back and hands above her head. Her hair framed her face in a wild blond mane. Her full breasts lolled over her thin and lightly muscled chest and shoulders. Her lips were parted and her eyes stared widely at me.

Standing up reminded me of the flood of wetness under my shorts. I unbuttoned and unzipped them. Then I let them drop to the ground and stepped out of them. I pulled my shirt off. I stood completely naked in front of mom. My cock no longer was at full length, but I was glad to see it still was longer and thicker than normal, and as soon as it popped out of my shorts mom's eyes were glued to it.

I bent over and retrieved the shorts, and I used them to wipe up the remaining cum on my cock. I tossed the shorts back on the floor.

I stood over my mom again, and my cock hung about two feet from her face. She was sitting up on the sofa now, and her face was level with it. She looked at it and then looked up at me.

I didn't know what had come over me. I had always had the gift of gab, and for a while I had known what to say to girls. But being with mom like this gave me a confidence I'd never felt before. I stood completely naked over her with my cock swinging no more than two feet from her lips, and I felt no shame or guilt or nervousness. Something about it felt right. It was like all the pieces were falling into place, and I felt confident about what to do and what to say.

But I could tell mom wasn't quite there. I'd unlocked her desire to show herself off, and I'd gotten her to admit her desire to me. We had both come together. But I could tell she was nervous and uncertain about what we were doing, even though her body was loving it.

I knew, for a certainty, that I wanted to keep pushing things with mom. I thought she'd be receptive if I handled it the right way. I just had to keep things at the right pace, and at the right rhythm.

"Do you like what you see?" I asked her.

She grinned slightly and cocked her head back and forth, appraising my cock from two sides. Then she looked back at me.

"Impressive," she said.

"How does it compare with dad's?" I asked.

"You are very pushy with the questions, naughty boy," she said. "That was one area with your dad where I had no complaints. But you might be a little bit bigger."

She laughed. "Don't get a big head about it."

I grinned.

"That's not what's going to get big, mom. It's my cock that's going to get big when you keep taking your clothes off like this in front of me."

"You sound confident I'm going to keep doing this," she said.

"I am confident, mom," I said. "You're going to get naked for me, a lot. You're going to show off for me and you're going to spread your legs. You're going to let me take photos of you. We're going to keep kissing like we just did. I'm going to come with you again, too."

I squatted down in front of her as I said it, until my face was a little below hers, and with my hands I gently pushed her knees farther apart. I kept pushing them until they were as far as back as they would go against the edge of the sofa.

The strip of lace between her legs was perhaps no more than an inch and a half wide, enough to cover the most intimate details of her sex but not enough fully to hide her outer labia, which mounded sweetly on either side. An obvious damp spot blotted the center of the white lacy strip.

I touched my finger to it. I started at the bottom and moved it up slowly until I felt the fabric give way just a little, where my finger found the spot just over the entrance to her pussy, the source of all the wetness. Although the pressure of my finger was light, it was enough to create a dimple in her thong. My finger pressed inward and entered the shallow dimple, and the white lace closed around my finger. In a way, I was finger-fucking my mom, now, I thought.

"Randy," she said, "I don't think we should do that."

But she pushed forward, against my finger, slightly but noticeably, as she spoke.

"I'm not breaking any boundaries, mom," I said. "And I'm not going to. We agreed to them and I'm going to stick by them."

I looked in mom's eyes with arched eyebrows.

"What about you, mom?" I asked. "Are you going to stick with our boundaries?"

She had started to rock herself more noticeably against my finger as I spoke, and she was staring down at what she was doing, but my question seemed to snap her attention away from the needs of her body. She pulled back an inch, parting her lace-covered pussy from my finger, and she looked up at me.

"Of course," she said. "Randy, we absolutely have to stick with these boundaries."

"I'm glad we agree on that, mom," I said.

"Just a sec," I added.

I stood up and walked over to a counter where I had left my phone.

"What are you doing?" mom asked.

She hadn't moved; she remained on the edge of the sofa with her legs splayed wide on either side and her hands supporting her on the sofa on either side of her.

"I'm going to take some pictures of you, mom," I said. "I've already taken photos of you naked but I want to record this moment between us, where you're showing yourself to me deliberately for the first time."

I loved the combination of nerves and desire I saw in her face, the internal battle she was going through between yes and no. So far, the yes side was winning, and I wanted to press my advantage and keep it that way.

"Point your toes," I said.

She put her hands on her knees and propped her feet up on her toes, keeping her legs wide. She threw her shoulders back and her pushed her ripe breasts toward me. I took two photos like that.

"O.K., mom," I continued. "I want you to turn around and put your hands on the top of the sofa. I'm going to take a photo of that sweet ass of yours."

She turned around, and her ass was even sweeter than I thought it would be. Mom's whole body was lean and well-defined from years of steady exercise, but her butt still was rounded and feminine -- more than I might have expected. The lace thong completely disappeared in the crack between her legs underneath and then reemerged to join in an inch-wide strip with the horizontal strip across her waist.

"Spread your legs apart more, mom," I said. I knew I was going to be telling her to do that a lot, and I knew she was going to do it a lot and like it.

I moved around from side to side and took a few photos of her in that position.

"Turn around and sit back on the sofa again," I said.

She did so.

I set my phone on the floor and approached her again.

I put my hands on her knees, and I brought them together. Then I pushed my hands up her thighs, my fingers savoring the touch of her skin underneath. My fingers stopped at the white thong, and I hooked them under the edge of the light fabric.

"What are you doing?" she asked, a trace of nervousness in her voice.

"These panties are wet," I said. "Too wet for you to wear. I'm going to take them off for you. Now lift up." I said it firmly but politely.

She hesitated, but then she complied. She lifted her hips, just slightly. I seized the opportunity and gripped the lace garment and pulled it down. She brought her legs together to help me and I pulled the thong all the way off and dropped it on top of my shorts.

Now, for the first time, mom sat completely and knowingly naked in front of me. She didn't try to hide anything.

"I want you to scoot out all the way to the edge of the sofa," I said, "And then spread your legs wide again."

Mom took a deep breath. I could see the uncertainty in her face, but I could tell she was going to do it. She did.

I pulled my phone out and held it up to take a picture. I focused on her pussy, first. It was beautiful. A triangular patch of trimmed blond fur lay over her clit, the pink button of which peeked timidly from under the fold of her hood. The inner lips of mom's pussy were unusually thin and delicate, like flower petals. They parted just slightly, revealing an uneven, barely open, damp, dark slit, and they dangled a little, too, between her legs.

Her hands were on her knees again and the muscles of her lean legs stood out when she raised her feet on her toes. Her breasts jutted forward and her nipples stood out with the color of strawberries against her mildly tanned skin.

I took several pictures of her like that.

I was squatting as I took the photos, and even while I focused and snapped them I was aware of my cock hanging down between my legs. I saw mom's eyes stray to it from time to time.

I stood up when I was done. I had another idea for a photo.

"Mom, wait here and don't move," I said. "I'll be right back."

I ran to my room, grabbed what I needed, and ran back to mom, my cock flopping against my thigh along the way.

I reentered the living room, mom still in the same place on the sofa. I had my DSLR camera, a tripod, and a remote control in my hand. I set it up quickly about ten feet away from the sofa in front of mom.

"Randy," she said, "What are you doing?"

"I want to get a photo of both of us, mom," I said. "I want to save this moment."

After setting it up, I walked to the sofa and scooted behind mom. My cock contacted her butt and started to grow hard again, but I had to ignore it for now. I put my hands on mom's waist and lifted and positioned her on my lap.

"Randy --" mom said. I could tell she was concerned about the proximity of my hardening cock to her uncovered pussy.

"Don't worry, mom," I said quickly. "It's just picture time."

I held out the remote in my hand.

"Here," I said. "I'll direct, but you take the pictures."

I directed us, first, to sit with her on my lap and both of us sitting and smiling at the camera together. With my hands free, I could put them on mom's body. I put one on her hip and the other on her abdomen, just under her breast.

She snapped the photo. We took more. It made it more erotic for me knowing that mom was exposing herself and taking the photos. Every time she clicked the remote she affirmed her desire to show herself to me.

With my arm around her waist I pulled her against me, until my back was against the back of the sofa. With my other hand, I pushed her legs apart until her knees were bent and up and her legs spread as wide as they could go. I wanted her to know that she was fully revealed to my camera when she clicked the remote. She clicked it several times. We took several photos like that, a few with us smiling at the camera and a few with her head turned toward mine as we kissed deeply in front of the camera.

Finally, we were done. I took the remote from her hand and set it to the side on the sofa. I kissed her softly a few times, on and around her mouth.

My cock by now was hard and at full length. Her position on my lap left her pussy gaping open and just an inch or two away from my protuberant shaft. Mom and I were at a precipice. It would be easy to jump and fall from it. I wanted to take her with every fiber of my being. But I wasn't going to. Not today, anyway.

I had made an agreement with her. We'd set boundaries. I wasn't sure how long those boundaries were going to last, or if I wanted them to last. But I knew I had to stick to them for now if I didn't want to screw everything up.

Mom said nothing. She remained in my lap, her eyes on my face, her open pussy perched vulnerably over my hard cock.

With supreme effort, I gently lifted mom up and moved under and away from her on the sofa.

She opened her lips as though she was about to say something, but she didn't.

I put a few fingers on her face next to her lips.

"It's O.K., mom," I said. "Everything is fine."

I stood up, then I turned around, and I scooped up mom in my arms. I hefted her up to the level of my chest and her arms encircled my neck. Mom's eyes opened wide in surprise.

"You're lighter than I expected," I said.

I carried mom to her bedroom. I walked slowly and steadily to show her that it wasn't difficult to carry her. I lay her gently on her bed, and she fell back against it. Her arms were at her side and her body lay still and glowing in the morning light coming through the window. She waited to see what I was going to do.

I smiled at her and said, "It's time to get dressed." And I walked away.

It took more will power to do that than I knew I had. But I knew, to a certainty, that I had to do it.

I wanted my mom. I didn't just want to see her, or to take photos of her. I desired her, craved her, needed her. But I had to handle this right, or I would lose her.

I walked naked back to the living room. I retrieved my shorts and shirt, and mom's thong as well. I gathered my camera equipment, and I went to my bedroom and closed the door.

Mom and I had started something. But we had put boundaries on it. I had agreed not to cross certain lines with her. Standing in my room, naked, I resolved that I would not break my promise to her, no matter how hard it would be.

But boundaries could be changed. By time, persuasion, and agreement, they could be changed. I had a feeling -- no, I knew -- that in time the boundaries that mom and I had set with each other would change.

I wanted my hot mom, fully and completely. And I was determined to have her..

195 My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 05

SimonDoom

I was sprawled across the sofa in the living room in the early afternoon, playing a game app I'd downloaded on my phone, when my mom entered the room. She wore the running outfit I'd bought for her for her birthday a few days earlier: tiny bun-hugging shorts and a clingy bra top.

She looked like a goddess. I put my phone down.

"Randy," she said. "Let's go for a run."

It was the first time I had seen her in the outfit since she had modeled it on her birthday. Somehow, it looked even skimpier in daylight than it had in the evening on her birthday. The bra and shorts covered little, and mom's body was all exposed lean legs, torso, and shoulders. The shorts were tiny and utterly form-fitting. They sat low on her waist and stopped just below the bottom of her butt cheeks, so they showed a lot of skin on her torso and her legs. The bra top clung to her upper body with an air of desperation, the skimpy fabric seemingly not quite up to the task of corralling her ample breasts.

I was surprised to see her in it. Nothing had happened between mom and me for several days after I had dry-humped her on the sofa in her lacy white panties. I sensed mom was uncertain, maybe a little embarrassed, about what had happened between us. Both of us had been very busy, and we'd had no chance to talk about what had happened. Mom didn't seem to want to bring it up. After a few days, I'd started to wonder if it ever would happen again.

But suddenly, here she was: my incredibly hot mom, posing in front of me in a running outfit that concealed little more than a bikini would.

I wasn't going to say no to a running invitation with my mom wearing that outfit.

"Sure, mom," I said. "Think you can keep up with me?" I said it with a smart-ass grin.

"Probably not," she said. "But I'm not worried about it. If you run ahead of me you won't be able to see what you bought me for my birthday."

When she said it she had her hands on her waist and she shook her hips back and forth saucily three times.

"I can't argue with that," I said, laughing, as I rose from the sofa. "I'll be just a sec."

In a few minutes, I was back from my bedroom, having stripped off my clothes and put on my own running out: black shorts and a solid blue shirt, and running socks and shoes. I had my phone strapped to my arm as well, as I always did.

When I returned mom was stretching in the entry way with her hands against the wall, her ass thrust away from the wall and pointed directly toward me.

I had to rein in my reaction if I wanted to get her outside running in the outfit, but it wasn't easy to mask my reaction to it. My own running shorts had an inner lining, but that was it, so if I got excited looking at mom on our run I'd have no way to hide it. I felt my cock twitch as I feasted on the sight of my mom.

Down boy, I thought. "Let's go," I said out loud.

As we shut the front door behind us and got started I thought about what had been going on between us the past few days. Mom and I had started to settle into an odd rhythm. After something crazy and sexual happened, nothing would happen for a while -- a day, a couple of days. I think mom needed time to digest what we'd done together, and to come to terms with it.

As for me, I'd already come to terms with it. I wanted to see mom naked again, and I wanted to do more than that. But mom obviously was not ready for that; after I had dry-humped her and then stripped her naked, she had needed a few days to think about what had happened and to grow comfortable that I wasn't immediately going to push past the boundaries we had set.

Mom wanted to show off in front of me, even to come in front of me. But she wasn't ready to fuck me. Not yet.

Mom looked a little nervous leaving the front yard in her tiny running outfit. She had never gone running in an outfit so skimpy, and I could tell she felt uncertain about what she was doing.

"How do you feel?" I asked her, with a cheerful tone, trying to be supportive.

"A little funny, in this outfit," she said. "It's a nice day, though."

It was. Summer was over but it remained unseasonably warm, and with the sun beating down on us in a cloudless sky I knew mom wouldn't get cold despite the brevity of her running attire.

We barely left our front yard behind when we saw our elderly next-door-neighbor, Mr. Daniels. I think he was about 80. He and his wife had lived in the neighborhood for decades. They had conservative habits, and I wondered what my mom looked like to him. I was glad his wife wasn't in the front yard; I was sure she would cluck disapprovingly at what mom was wearing.

But Mr. Daniels, who was wearing a floppy hat and trimming a bush with a pair of hand shears, didn't react noticeably, other than to incline his head up a little as we passed and to stop his trimming, just for a second or two.

I could tell mom saw him.

"I think he's checking you out, mom," I said.

I'm not sure why I said it. I had conflicting feelings about what was going on. Mom had revealed herself as an exhibitionist to me. I enjoyed that side of her, and I felt a desire to tease it out of her further, to get her to show herself off. But I felt a little jealous, too. I wanted her to show off, but I felt a little funny about it at the same time.

"I know he's checking me out, Randy," mom said, as she jogged. "I'm a girl. Girls know when guys are checking them out."

We jogged slowly down the street to get warmed up. It was hot outside and I began sweating right away. I almost regretted putting a shirt on, but I'd chosen to take one because I wanted to be more dressed than mom. And I was. Mom was showing a lot more skin than I was. She looked fantastic.

We reached the end of the street, where the neighborhood ended and the hills started. I led us to a trail that led up and away from the neighborhood, in a different direction from the one mom and I had taken on our first run together. I let mom go ahead so I could watch her running from behind. I think she knew what I was doing.

We didn't talk a lot on the run up the hill. We concentrated on running, and I concentrated on the sight of mom's butt in the tight shorts. The hill wasn't steep, but even so we were both sweating. I liked seeing mom's exposed body covered in a layer of sweat. Only a few trees dotted the hillside around us, so we were exposed to the sun. Her body shone in the mid-day glare.

We topped the hill and then jogged down to a low area that flattened and opened up and was covered with more trees. Then I led mom on a side trail.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"A pretty area I know," I said.

We rounded a bend, and a small lake opened up before us. It wasn't large, probably covering no more than a few acres, but it was pretty, with an irregular shore line surrounded by trees, and a small rocky island in the middle of it that blocked the view to the other side. The lake and its surroundings were maintained as a nature preserve.

I led mom on a small rocky path around the lake to the far shore. The tree cover lay denser on this side of the lake. I decided to stop here. I pulled a bottle of water I'd strapped to my side and handed it to mom, and after she took it I unstrapped the phone from my arm. I wanted to get some photos of mom. I also wanted to get a sense of how comfortable she was posing for me again.

Mom rolled her eyes when I asked her if I could take some photos, but she complied. I took a couple of her sitting on a rock under a tree with the lake in the background. Then I wanted to take something a little sexier.

"Mom, put your hands back on the rock and push your chest out, and put one leg up on the rock and the other on the ground," I instructed her. In this position her breasts would strain against the fabric of the bra, and the black fabric of the shorts would be stretched tightly and visibly between her legs as well. I got the sense mom was just a little turned on, because I could see her nipples against the fabric and just a hint of a camel toe in the shorts.

"How do you feel, mom?" I asked.

"About what?" she asked me back.

"About what's happened," I said. "Between us."

"Oh, Randy," she said. "I don't know. Confused. I appreciate that you held back the last few days. I needed to know we could hold to the limits we set the other day."

"I'm glad, mom," I said. "I had the feeling you enjoyed what we did within the limits we set. Did you?"

I wanted to get mom to say it.

"I feel embarrassed to say it," she said. "But I did. I did. It had been so long since I'd been with a man. What we did together -- it felt so good. I couldn't believe it. But I fell weird about it, too, you know?"

"I know, it's a little weird to me, too. But mom, I loved what we did. And I think we showed ourselves we can do that and still set whatever limits we want. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. OK?"

"Thanks for that," she said, smiling shyly at me. "One other thing, Randy -- you can't tell anybody about this. Nobody would understand. I could lose my job. So please keep this to yourself. Not even your friends can know. Especially Tucker. He couldn't keep it secret, and if the word got out -- I don't even want to think about it."

"Mom, don't worry," I said. "I haven't told anybody, and I'm not going to. Especially Tucker. You don't have anything to worry about. This is just between us."

"I have to confess, you're very comforting, Randy," she said. "You make it very easy to open up to you."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, mom. I want it to be easy and comfortable."

I got an idea.

"Mom, would you like to open up right now?"

She looked at me quizzically.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean," I said and gestured toward her, "Open up to me. Take your clothes off in front of me. It's a beautiful day. It's fall. We won't have many more days like this before winter comes. Get naked and open up for me."

"Randy!" she said. "You're getting carried away. We're in public. It's daytime."

"You've gotten naked in public before in the day time, mom," I said. "You told me all about it. And you liked it, too. You said so."

"That was a different situation. We were on a beach, a long way from here. We're only a couple of miles from our neighborhood. People we know could come by. It's too risky."

"Actually mom," I said, "I've jogged by here a lot, and I rarely see anyone. Especially on this side of the lake. The trail on this side isn't very good for running. Besides, that island in the middle blocks the view from the main trail, and this cove provides some shelter.

"Come on," I urged. "Just for a few minutes. Take everything off and sit back on that rock naked. I want to see you, mom."

Mom didn't move, but I could tell she was thinking about it. The conflict was plain in her face. It was a lovely setting, and the warm air and trees and small lake in the background offered an inviting spot to get naked. Mom looked this way and that, around her and across the lake, and I knew she was interested.

"There's nobody here, mom," I said. "If I see somebody they'll be on the other side of the lake and you can get your outfit back on before they get close and see you."

I grinned.

"I'll tell you what. I'll stay clothed. That way you know nothing's going to get out of hand. Only you will be naked."

I had a feeling mom would like that idea, and she did. She rolled her eyes and sighed and started unlacing her shoes.

"OK," she said. "Here goes."

She tossed off her shoes and then without ceremony peeled and stripped the bra over her head and offer her body. Mom sat topless in front of me in front of the lake. Her nipples were hard and erect.

Then she lifted her hips and pulled her shorts off and down her legs. They tumbled to the ground and mom was naked. She sat demurely on the rock, with her legs together and her hands on her knees.

I asked her to smile and took a few photos with my phone.

"Mom, you are beautiful," I said. "Now open some more."

Mom hesitated, but then, sure enough, she parted her legs for me. She splayed her knees out to either side and steadied herself on the rock on the balls of her feet.

"Like this?" she said. She held her gaze steadily on mine.

I stood closer to her so my phone camera would capture the detail of her pussy. It was the first time I'd seen her pussy exposed outdoors. It looked better than ever -- soft, thin, pink petals framing and shrouding a pussy from which I could make out hints of wetness gleaming inside.

"Just like that," I said as I took photos of her.

What I liked most was how comfortable and confident mom suddenly seemed like that. Once she had made the decision to open up for me, she was in her element.

Without any bidding from me, mom put her hands under thighs, lightly took each lip between her fingers, and opened herself up. She had fully opened her pussy to me.

"Just like on the beach," I said. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"It does," she said.

I took another photo, and then I was done with photos. I put the phone down and approached my mom. I walked directly between her spread legs, and I put a hand on each thigh, and I reached down and kissed mom on the lips. She kissed me back.

"I like it when you're naked, mom," I said. "I think you like it too."

"You figured out my secret," she said and smiled when I pulled back from kissing her.

"Let's go for a swim," I said.

Mom looked around us.

"Here?" she asked. "Randy, this is in public. I'm not going swimming, naked."

"Why not?" I asked. "You're already naked. And it's a warm day and we're both already sweaty. Come on. It will feel good.

"I've gone swimming here before," I added. "Naked."

"You have?" she asked, eyes widening. "I thought you were a voyeur, not an exhibitionist."

"A guy can be both," I said and grinned.

She looked out over the lake and down at the cool water. The air was still and the water looked calm and inviting. Tall trees overhung this part of the lake and the water lay quiet and unrippled in dappled sunlight and shade.

I could tell mom was thinking about it. I could see the conflict playing out in her face. Mom had unveiled her exhibitionism and kinkiness to me, and there was no taking it back. She couldn't put the genie back in the bottle. I knew that she wanted to keep showing herself, too. But she wasn't comfortable about it -- either about showing off in a public setting like this, or about showing off in front of her 19-year-old, horny son.

"Come on," I urged.

I looked around the lake. I didn't see or hear any sign of anyone. This part of the shore was obscured by rocks and trees and was hidden from sight of the main trail on the opposite shore by the small rocky island in the middle. There was always some risk of exposure getting naked in public in the middle of the day, but I figured the odds were high that if we were careful no one would see us.

I unlaced my shoes, and then quickly pulled off my socks, my shirt, and my shorts. I stood naked in front of my mom, about ten feet away. My cock hung in front of her, and I caught her looking at it as she sat by the water.

"Come on, mom," I said again.

She looked all around while I looked at her.

"I don't know," she said, but I could tell she wanted to do it.

"We'll ditch our clothes and go for a quick swim and come back," I said. "Come on."

The exhibitionist in her won out. She stood up and waded into the water in front of me. Her bare ass was perfect.

I grabbed our clothes and set them behind a bush, so if someone did come along they wouldn't see the clothes we'd left behind. Then I turned back to the lake and waded into the cool water ahead of mom.

"Let's swim to the island," I said, gesturing ahead of us.

I dove in at last and began breast-stroking toward the rocky island. I looked back and saw mom not far behind, trying to keep her head above the water and her hair dry. I wanted to keep my head above water so I could see if anyone was coming. But, so far, I didn't see anyone.

It didn't take long for us to get to the island. It was small, but covered thickly by trees and bushes. I pulled myself out of the water and turned back, partly to help mom up but mostly to watch her emerge from the lake nude and dripping wet. She rose from the water more beautiful than Venus. Sunlight reflected off the water dripping off her breasts and torso and legs. Her nipples looked dark and rock hard from the cool water. I took her hand.

I had skinny-dipped and swum to the island once before, and I knew there was a rise in the middle of the island from which one could see all around the lake while still well shrouded by tall grass and willowy bushes. I led mom on a faint dirt path. Although I had never seen anyone on the island, the existence of the path made it clear we weren't the first ones to have been here.

We probably were the first naked mother and son, however, I thought.

Mom looked nervous. Her head darted back and forth, looking for people. Fortunately, no one else was at the lake.

We reached the small rise. There was a small clear space on the ground amid the thick greenery. I crouched down and bade mom to do the same. From where we knelt, we could see the entire shore of the lake, but we were sufficiently shrouded by the trees and tall grass that someone walking on the shore could not see us without a lot of effort.

I turned to my mom, naked in the light shade. She held her shoulders back and her arms at her side and her breasts stood straight out from her chest, firm and with water still dripping off. I couldn't believe how large and erect her nipples were. She held them no more than a foot from my eyes. She caught me staring at them, and instead of covering them mom swayed her chest back and forth, causing her breasts to sway and rock up and down slightly.

"Mom, you look magnificent," I said.

"You think so?" she said, with a trace of coquettishness.

"Yeah, I do," I said. "Gosh, you are beautiful."

I put a hand on her waist, just under one of her breasts. I wanted it to be close, but not on her breast, so I could let her know I still was mindful of the agreement we'd made that I wouldn't touch her directly there.

"Lie back, mom," I said, pushing gently on her side.

Mom lay back, at my request. I could tell she enjoyed complying with my request.

When she lay down she put her hands behind her head and thrust her chest out at me, and she bent one leg. My naked mom lay on the ground, exposing herself to me again.

I kept a hand lightly on her belly. It perched there, respectful of the agreement we had made about what I could and could not touch, but it was poised to break that agreement at any second. We both knew it, and I could tell mom was as nervous and excited with the knowledge of it as I was.

I was still mesmerized at the sight of her full breasts as she lay back on the ground, with the grass and bushes all around us. The air was warm and the stillness was broken at times by intermittent bird calls or the buzz of insects. But nothing could take my attention away from mom's breasts.

"You have the most beautiful breasts, mom," I said.

"You don't think they're old or droopy?" she said, playfully. "They're all natural, you know."

"No, they're perfect," I said.

"Thanks!" she said.

My hand moved up from her belly to her chest, just under one of them. I wanted to feel them so badly; I ached for it. But I'd agreed not to touch them and I would abide by my agreement, no matter how hard it was to do so.

But mom had another idea.

"You can touch them if you want to," she said, very softly.

I didn't delay. I scooted up along her body and moved both my hands up her torso until each one cupped one of my mom's ample and beautiful breasts. I squeezed them gently. I had felt breasts before, but with my mom it was like I was feeling breasts for the first time in my life. I kneaded them gently, pushing them lightly this way and that. Mom cooed with pleasure.

Then I decided to get a bit bolder. I straddled her torso so I could get close to both boobs more easily. My cock was growing harder with the excitement and the tip of it lay against mom's skin. Mom sat up on her elbows and she stared at my hardening cock with a look of interest while I squeezed her boobs.

I took each one of her hard nipples between a thumb and forefinger and rubbed it. I'd never encountered nipples so deliciously hard and long. I gave them a quick, hard pinch, and mom let out a little squeal of surprise. She put a hand to her mouth and looked all around to see if there was anyone there. There wasn't.

She put her hand out, on my chest. At first I thought she meant to push me away, but she didn't. Her hand traced circles on my bare chest, tenderly.

Mom had said I could touch her boobs, and she hadn't put any limit on what I could touch her with, so I decided to go a step further. I bent over and put my mouth right over one of her long, hard nipples, and I sucked on it. Mom let out another moan of pleasure. I knew she liked it, because instead of pushing me away she put her hand against the back of my head and pressed me against her.

My cock was rock hard now and it stabbed into her upper torso as I sucked on her.

I opened my mouth and took as much of her tit into it as I could, and then I pulled back a little so I could tease it and play with it with my tongue. My mouth was hungry for the taste of her, and my tongue pushed her tit back and forth and swirled around it rapaciously.

When I was done with one I went to work on the other. I felt the grip of mom's hand tighten in my hair.

Then I moved by mouth back and off her. I scooted my body forward a little, so the tip of my hardening cock lay in the gully between her magnificent breasts. I took a breast in each hand again and pressed them together, enveloping my shaft between her mounds.

"Randy --" she gasped, but she did nothing to stop or hinder me. Instead, she lay back all the way on the ground, making it easier for me to hold my cock between her boobs while mashing them together.

I started rocking back and forth, until I could see my cock moving, disappearing between mom's mashed-together breasts and reappearing in the cleavage above them with every stroke. I picked up my pace and got into a good rhythm.

I was fucking my mom's tits.

"How do you like it?" I asked her.

She didn't say anything but let out a deep, long moan that told me all I needed to know. Her hands were on my hips, drawing me to her rather than pushing me away.

I started pinching her nipples while I grabbed her tits roughly together and against my cock. Then mom took a hand off my hip and moved it behind me, out of my sight. Although I couldn't see what she was doing, I could tell from the expression on her face that she was caressing herself between her legs while I tit-fucked her.

I sped up the pace of my cock moving against her body. The traces of water still on our bodies gave us enough lubrication. I knew I wasn't going to last long.

Mom came before me. I didn't think I'd ever seen a woman come so fast. No more than a minute after she'd reached her hand between her legs I felt her body jerk under me, and she threw her head back and let loose with a torrent of high-pitched squeals that she tried to stifle with a hand over her mouth.

My god, I thought, mom just came while I fucked her tits on an island in public. It was harder to keep her breasts together when her body was bucking from the orgasm, but I didn't let go. I kept pushing my cock furiously against her chest and between her breasts, which, pressed tightly together, formed a perfect, snug channel for me to fuck.

The sight and sound of mom orgasming under me was too much for me, and I couldn't hold back any longer. My cock pulsed a few times and then let loose with a thick, warm stream of cum jetting out against her bare chest. I pulled it back so I could watch myself spray on her tits. Some of it hit her chin, and I saw my cum pool in the dimple of her neck, too.

Mom lay back on the ground, looking at me with her chest still heaving, a few more tremors wracking her body.

"You said I could touch them," I said and smiled at my pretty naked mom, her chest now covered in my cum.

"I did, and you certainly did," she said.

"We stayed within our boundaries," I said. "We just adjusted them a little."

I reached down with my hand and spread some of the cum around on her chest. I scooped some of it up with a forefinger, and then I pressed the finger against her lips. Mom didn't protest. She took the tip of my finger between her lips and sucked my cum off my finger with a low slurp.

Just then, a dog barked.

I got off mom quickly but quietly and mom sat up in a squatting position. Both of us looked around us to see where the bark came from.

We saw it, through the trees. It was trotting along the shore, nose to the ground, on the path mom and I had taken to go around the lake. The dog's owner followed a hundred feet behind. I knew him. It was a neighbor -- Mr. Seeley. I didn't know him well, but what I knew I didn't like. He'd been grumpy and disagreeable every time I'd met him. He was the sort of neighbor that always complained about what everyone else in the neighborhood was doing. He was middle-aged, but acted older.

He was exactly the sort of person we wouldn't want to catch us nude together outdoors.

Fortunately, the dog and owner both appeared to be distracted by other things. Obviously, they hadn't seen us yet. But if they kept going the dog might find our clothes near the shore, and if Mr. Seeley found them he would quickly intuit where we were.

Mom moved up and behind the trunk of a small tree to take better cover. She sat on her knees and leaned over with a hand on the tree to lower her profile and steady herself. I knelt directly behind mom and put an arm around her waist to steady myself. Both of us stared at the dog and the owner, slowly moving along the shore.

"Randy, did you hide the clothes?" mom asked in a whisper, worried.

"I put them behind a bush, but they're not hidden, exactly, and if the dog smells them he's going to find them."

"Ugh," mom said. "I don't need Stuart Seeley to find me like this. This is not good."

Mr. Seeley looked up and toward the island. He looked right in our direction. We crouched as low as we could, hoping he couldn't see us under the shade and cover of the trees. He didn't seem to, because he looked away again.

He called out to his dog, who turned around and slowed but didn't stop walking toward the cove where we'd left our clothes. The dog was no more than fifty feet away now. Mom and I held our breath.

When mom crouched down to hide from Mr. Seeley's gaze, she had pushed her butt out, right against my cock, which still was sticky and dripping with cum from my orgasm. I wasn't fully erect, but I wasn't wholly flaccid, either, and the pressure of mom's smooth behind sent a tickle into my shaft. I was crouched right behind and over mom, and my cock, half-dangling and half-erect, slipped into the cleft between her butt cheeks. The head of my cock settled against the warmth of mom's pussy. I didn't push forward, but I didn't pull away, either. Even with my attention focused on Mr. Seeley's progress along the lake shore I couldn't help but focus as well on the contact between my cock and mom's pussy.

Mom didn't move; she kept her gaze forward, on our neighbor. Either she didn't notice my cock against her, or she did a great job pretending she didn't notice it. I adjusted position, as though to steady myself behind her, but the real purpose, and the effect, was to make my cock head drag against the lower reaches of her wet pussy.

Mr. Seeley clapped his hands and called to his dog again, louder this time.

Finally, no more than twenty feet away from our clothes, the dog turned around and walked back to Mr. Seeley. He put a leash on the dog and they turned around and walked back to the main trail.

Mom and I both let out a big, but quiet, sigh of relief.

I pulled back from her. Both of us continued crouching and hiding behind the trees until we saw Seely and his dog leave the lake.

"That was close," I said.

"Too close," mom replied. "I almost shit my pants." She grinned and looked down. "I mean, I would have if I'd been wearing pants."

"I'm glad you're not," I said

"I'll bet. My lusty son. Lusting after his old mom."

"You're not old, mom," I said. "You're hot. The hottest woman I've ever seen."

"I don't believe that," she said. "But thank you for the compliment. It's flattering that you think of me that way. But it seems wrong, too. I like the attention, and it felt really good --doing what we did a minute ago. But I can't help but think this is too crazy and too risky."

"I think it's worth the risk, mom," I said. "I'm sitting here looking at my hot, naked mom with my cum on her tits."

Mom looked down at the whitish glaze on her chest.

"My goodness, Randy," she said. "You did my chest like a fire hose."

She traced a finger from one breast to another, scooping up a thick daub of the cum as the finger dragged over her skin. Without hesitating or looking at me she brought her finger to her mouth and sucked it clean. When she was done, she looked up at me. I think she blushed.

"I think we better get back," she said.

We left the security of the grass and trees and walked cautiously toward the water, looking around us to see if anyone could see us from the lake shore. We didn't see anyone.

We entered the water again and swam briskly to the shore, aware that the longer we took the greater a chance there was that someone might come along and see us. I swam more slowly than I could, behind mom. I watched her emerge from the lake water, again like a goddess, magnificent and dripping wet in tree-filtered sunlight.

She stood naked on the shore waiting for me. I knew where I'd left our clothes, and she didn't.

I scrambled out of the water onto the rocks and ran to the bushes to retrieve our gear. Like a good son I took mom's bra and shorts to her before I put my own shorts on, but when I got to her I didn't hand them to her, although she waited with outstretched hands.

"Let me put them on you," I said. I smirked, I have to admit.

"Randy --" mom said, her skepticism obvious.

"Allow me," I said as I held the tiny shorts at her feet. "Step into them."

Mom relented. She picked a foot up and set it down in one hole of the tiny shorts, then she put the other one in the other hole. It was my turn to pull the fabric up her legs. I did, but it was tight. I wondered for a second how anyone could wear such tiny shorts. It was slow-going, tugging them up her calves and thighs, especially because the shorts fabric caught on the wetness of her body.

As I pulled the shorts up toward her hips I realized mom's bare pussy was just inches from my face. Blond fur lay over it and thin lips dangled between the inviting gap between her thighs. I wanted to reach forward and take those thin lips in my mouth, but instead I kept pulling the shorts up until they covered her.

I handed mom's bra to her and put on my own shorts and shirt. Soon we were dressed again.

We followed the rocky lake shore path back to the main trail, and we ran back home. Neither of us said much along the way.

The lake water had refreshed and cooled us, but the afternoon air still was hot, and by the time we returned home both of our bodies were covered in a fine lather of sweat. As we ran I continued to linger behind mom so I could watch her lithe figure gleam in the afternoon sun. The combination of sun and sweat accentuated every curve and line of her body. I was mesmerized, watching her body move in front of mine. I felt a noticeable rise under my thin shorts.

Damn, hard again, I thought.

Inside the house the air was cool, and I noticed with lusty satisfaction as mom's nipples popped up jauntily under the thin bra fabric.

Mom turned toward me. Obviously, she wanted to say something, but she couldn't quite find the words to say it. I could tell she had enjoyed what had happened between us at the lake, but she couldn't quite admit it to herself or to me.

"That was a good, ahh, run," she said at last. "Um. I need to take a shower now."

She turned and I watched my sexy mom's round, perky butt grow smaller as she walked away from me toward her room.

But I wasn't ready for things to end. And I thought maybe mom wasn't either. I followed her to her room.

She got to her room and she started to pull off her bra top when she became aware of my presence and turned around toward me.

"Randy," she said. "What are you doing in my room?"

"I want to be with you more, mom," I said. I knew what I had in mind but I paused before I said it.

"Let's shower together," I said.

That caught mom short. Her mouth opened and formed an incredulous "O." Then it snapped shut as thought she'd made a decision, but it wavered again.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Randy," in a voice that evinced no confidence whatsoever.

"Mom, why not?" I asked. "I fucked your tits an hour ago. And you know something? You liked it. I liked it, and you liked it. Let's not be silly about this. We can still honor whatever boundaries we've set. But I want to see your hot, naked body in the shower. Let's do it."

I saw mom's body almost shiver in response to the words "hot" and naked." I knew she liked the idea, but her conscience wrestled with her desire.

"Come on, mom," I said. "Let's go shower."

I walked to her and took her hand. I led her to the bathroom. She didn't resist.

The shower stood behind glass, and its surface lay covered in small earth-tone tiles. I reached in and turned it on and adjusted the knob so the water would be pleasantly hot. Soon steam from the spray of hot water began to fill the room. The shower was big enough for two, and I was eager to have mom's naked body next to mine with the water coming down on us.

I turned my attention to mom's clothes, which she had not removed yet. First I helped her pull off the bra, and I watched her full breasts spring and bounce after I had freed them. Mom stood passively as I tossed the bra to the bathroom floor and began tugging off the shorts I'd spent so much effort to put on her little more than an hour earlier. It took less time to shuck them off than it had taken to tug them on next to the lake shore.

In a few seconds my mom stood naked in front of me, in the bathroom now filling with steam from the hot shower spray. I'd seen mom fully naked several times now, but each time it seemed more miraculous than the last. In the steam-filled room her body, though lean and muscular, seemed soft and dewy and vulnerable to me. I was still clothed, and I took her in my arms and hugged her. Then I pulled away and pulled off my shorts and shirt. Mom and I walked naked into the shower.

I let mom stand under the shower head first, so I could watch the stream of water pour over and down her body. Her blond hair matted against her head. Streams of water coursed along her figure, down her face and shoulders and in constantly changing rivulets over her full breasts and torso. I looked down and watched the water pour down between her legs and then fall in a steady cascade from the dangling lips of her pussy.

Mom's eyes were closed and her hands were on her head to ensure that her hair was fully drenched.

I picked a bar of soap off the built-in bench. It had been worn down from prior use to a slender oval. I pressed it to one of her breasts, and then to the other. I pushed the edge of the bar against each of her nipples, which stood hard and impossibly long out from her body. The soap bar bent her nipple back against her breast, and when I withdrew it I watched the nipple spring back into position. Then I worked up a good lather between my palms, and I spread it in tight circles over mom's pretty tits.

While I tended to mom's breasts with the soap, she reached her hand behind my head and pulled it down to her and kissed me hard and deeply. Her tongue entered my mouth. She pressed her body against mine, and I felt the head of my cock, now fully erect, poke into her belly, uncertain whether it would slide up her torso or down toward the cleft between her legs. It slid up, along her slippery and soapy skin, and I felt the head rest against her belly button while my ball sack lay right over her clit.

Knowing my cock wouldn't be able to slide into her cunt in this position seemed to embolden mom, because she pushed the mound between her legs against me while she kept kissing me. Her body writhed against me as my hands slid down and held her at the waist. She was as hot and eager for me as any girl I'd ever been with. I cupped her ass with my hand and pressed her against me more tightly and pushed her tongue back with mine. Our tongues clashed and I had to push mine harder against hers to force hers back and thrust mine into her mouth. The soap bar dropped to the floor but its lather remained between us, lubricating our skin and enabling mom to move her slick body with ease against my cock. My fingers spread out and grabbed mom's ass cheek hard, and I knew their tips were just inches from her asshole.

I spun mom around, and I picked up the soap again. I held her back against me, with my cock now pressed against her back, and grabbed and kneaded and lathered her tits with the soap all at the same time, kissing the back of her neck while I did so. I bit down on her skin at the base of her neck, hard enough to leave a mark but not hard enough to hurt her. She tried to pull away at first, but when I held on she stopped resisting and submitted as I marked her.

While I grabbed her breast with one hand, the other one, holding the soap bar, slid down her belly toward her pussy. I stopped it right at the edge of the light, trimmed fur on her mound, and I ran my fingers through, touching my mom's pubic hair for the first time.

Then mom turned around and took the soap from me and began lathering my body. She pushed her soapy tits against my chest and moved them against me in a circular motion.

For the next few minutes mom and I lathered each other with soap like that, using our soapy bodies to wash each other.

I couldn't get enough of having my hands all over mom's body, but when she was done rinsing off she pushed me lightly back on the chest with her hand. Then she reached down and plucked a small, pink, plastic razor off the bench. She held it up in front of my face and smiled. She placed the ball of her foot on the bench, and she started skimming the razor up her shin, past her knee, and up her thigh.

Mom was shaving her legs in front of me. They didn't feel like they needed shaving to me, but I thought perhaps she wanted to put on a show for me. It was quite a show. With her leg bent up and spread out to give her the best access to her leg, her pussy was easy to see. Her delicate inner lips opened just a little and dangled, and water from the shower streamed down her body and poured down from each one. Mom looked up at me as she pulled the razor slowly along the skin of her legs, and I could tell she knew exactly where my eyes were. I could tell, too, that she was holding herself in a position that gave me the best possible view.

She took her time shaving, first one leg and then the other, and I took my time ogling everything about her -- the pretty pussy, the lean, muscled legs, the full natural breasts, the wet blond hair matted against her head and neck. All the while the hot water cascaded over her body.

After a couple of minutes of shaving both legs she put both feet back on the floor and stood up straight.

"There, I'm done," she said. "I hope you liked the show!"

"I loved it, mom," I said. "But you're not done."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her to me and kissed her again.

"Shave your pussy, mom," I said. "Shave your pussy for me and let me watch you."

"You want me to have a completely bare pussy?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yeah, mom, I do. I love seeing your pussy and I want to see it as clearly as possible. Shave off all your hair down there. I want to enjoy the sight of your bare cunt. Shave it now, in front of me."

Mom hesitated for just a few seconds, and then she squatted and sat down on the floor of the shower. She scooted backward against the wall of the shower, and put her knees up and spread them out. She reached over to the bench and grabbed the bar of soap and worked up a thick lather into the thin layer of fur.

She looked up at me.

"You better sit down too if you want to get the best view."

I sat down. Mom put on a show. She started the razor from the top edge of her hair and stroked down. With the fingers of her other hand she reached down and pulled one of her pussy lips to the side. Doing so didn't help her shaving; it was for my benefit, so I could see inside her pussy as she shaved. The pink skin inside her glistened and sparkled under the spray of water and the light from the shower ceiling.

Mom stopped and held up her razor.

"Here," she said. "Why don't you do it. But remember our rules. You can't touch me there with your hands."

It was getting harder to figure out what the rules and boundaries were, exactly, but if they allowed me to shave my mom's pussy I wasn't going to complain. I slid my butt over next to mom and took the razor from her hand. She lay back and pushed her pussy closer to me to make it easier for me to shave. Now it was just inches away.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked, still surprised she would let me do this.

"Yes," she said. "Just be careful. Remember to stroke down, with the grain of the hair," she said.

I shaved my mom's pussy hair. I started with short, tentative strokes. I didn't want to slip and hurt her. Mom lay as still as she could, but she was breathing heavily and couldn't entirely stop the rise and fall of her body with her breaths. My heart was beating fast inside my chest. I tried to hold the razor as steadily as I could.

I watched with fascination as the thin patch of hair was stripped away, stroke by stroke.

Soon it was all gone. Mom's cunt lay gloriously bare in front of me, inches away. Her delicate, irregular petals were peeled back enough to give me a view of everything. Her clit peeked out from light folds of skin. The pale flesh inside her was almost the color of salmon, and I thought how much I wanted to taste it. Further inside, the depths of her pussy faded to darkness. Streams of water from the shower coursed through it as I stared.

My cock is going to be in there soon, I thought. It wasn't going to be today -- I could tell that for all our intimacy together mom wasn't ready for that. But it was going to happen. I'm going to fuck that cunt soon, mom, I thought.

"You're not quite done," she said. She surprised me again.

"I'm not?"

"There's a little stubble on the sides," she said. "I need you to shave that off too."

Mom took hold of one of her lips and pulled it out and over her opening, stretching the skin of her outer labia so I could see it better. Sure enough, light blond stubble dotted the otherwise smooth skin to the side of her pussy.

I shaved very carefully, and very slowly, not just to avoid hurting mom but to savor the close-up view. My mouth literally watered at the sight. I gently scraped the stubble off one side. Then mom let go and pulled on the other lip and did the same on the other side. We finished and when she let go the stretched lips flapped open and revealed more than before.

But not for long. Mom got up on her knees and turned around.

"There's one more thing," she said. "It's hard for me to see what's back there, so I need your help there too."

Mom hunched over on all fours with her legs held wide and her butt turned up to my face. She wanted me to shave between her butt cheeks and around her asshole. I shook my head. This was better than any porn movie. It was too good to be true.

It was a funny thing to think, but I thought her asshole looked kind of cute. The skin around it was a little darker than the skin around it, and it was slightly crinkly. Her sphincter held it clamped shut.

With one hand, I pulled on a butt check to spread her more, and I held my face as close to her as I could so I could see any stray hairs. I kept my fingers and hands away from her private parts while I pulled the razor gently over the skin between her cheeks. I saw a few stray short hairs come away. Soon I was done.

"Done, I think," I announced.

Mom looked back at me while still holding her spread ass in front of my face.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said.

Then she spun around. She sat on her butt with her legs up, and she inspected my handiwork.

"Nice job, Randy," she said. "Is that your first time shaving a pussy?"

"It sure is," I said. "I'm experiencing a lot of firsts, lately."

"Me, too," mom said.

She lay back on her elbows and bit her lip. A sly look gleamed in her eyes. I liked the way her full breasts stood out against her chest when she lay back that way, with her nipples firm and poky under the torrent of water.

Mom picked a foot up off the floor and snaked it toward me until her toes poked my inner thigh. She dragged her toes upward along my thigh until they rested against my belly. Her foot pushed higher until it pressed squarely against my chest.

"Sit back against the wall," mom said.

I scooted back until my back was against the shower wall, and mom moved forward toward me. I didn't know what mom had in mind, but I was fired up with desire and I wasn't going to argue with her.

My back hit the wall, and I stopped. My legs were open and my cock pointed hard and eager toward the shower ceiling, stimulated by the sight of my spread-open mom scooting toward me along the shower floor.

Mom picked her other foot off the floor. Then she brought both feet together, on my cock.

I was startled, and I'm sure my surprise showed in my face. Mom looked at me.

"We set boundaries," she said. "But we didn't say anything about feet."

"No, we didn't," I said.

Mom's feet now worked together to clamp my cock in their grip. She embraced my shaft with the balls of her feet, and I felt it stiffen and lengthen under the pressure. Then she pulled a foot away and set it on the bar of soap lying on the shower floor, and she rubbed it back and forth until I saw it pick up a film of soapy lather. She brought the foot back to my cock and resumed squeezing me between her feet, which were now more lubricated.

It felt amazing. I'd never had a foot job. I'd never thought about having a foot job. But now my mom was giving me one, under the constant hot spray of the shower, and it was pure heaven.

Whatever restraint mom's face had shown before seemed gone now, because her jaw hung down and her thick lips framed a big lusty O and her eyes were wide and see-sawing between the cock between her feet and my own disbelieving eyes. Mom sat close enough to me that she had to keep her knees wide to bring her feet together at my erect member, so the whole time she stroked me her pussy was visible. I could have sworn her clit had pushed back the cover of the hood over it and was more erect than before.

Up and down, up and down mom's pretty feet worked my cock in their grip, giving my cock head a little extra squeeze every time she got to the tip. I was amazed at her skill. Her feet never slipped off. Where she learned her skills, I had no idea, but I was in the hands -- nope, the feet -- of an expert.

I moaned, and mom grinned at my obvious pleasure.

She nodded her chin to the shower shelf next to me.

"Randy," she said. "Grab that lotion bottle."

A bottle of some sort of bath lotion perched on the shelf next to me. I grabbed.

"Drip it onto your cock," she said.

I could see why she suggested it. Although my cock was just outside the main stream of water pouring from the showerhead, the spray was enough to have rinsed the soap off, and mom wanted to keep it lubricated. I held the bottle over my cock and mom's feet and watched the lotion dribble over them. It had an instant effect, dramatically increasing the lubrication and allowing mom to grab and stroke me harder and faster.

Mom expertly moved my feet back and forth and around different parts of her feet, rolling my shaft around and across her instep, then back to the balls of her feet. She ministered to my cock with her sexy, painted toes. All the while she kept up the pace and the pressure.

"Do you like that, baby," she said, her voice deep with desire.

"I love it, mom," I said. "I'm fucking your feet, mom."

"I like the feel of you fucking my feet, Randy. I like the feel of your big cock between my feet."

Up and down. Up and down. Her feet never lost their grip. My cock never lost the constant feeling of pressure and stroking.

"You like it, too, don't you, mom," I said. "You like having your legs open and foot-stroking your son's hard tool, don't you?"

Her mouth opened more and her chest pushed forward at my words. Mom liked being talked to that way.

"Yeah, Randy. I like my son's big hard cock between my feet."

My cock twitched under the pressure. I knew it wasn't going to take long. I couldn't believe it. My mom was going to bring me to orgasm with her feet. It was going to be a first for me.

"I fucked your tits and your feet in the same day, mom," I said to her. "I fucked you a lot today. You like that, don't you, mom," I urged. "You like your son fucking different parts of your body."

She threw her head back. I dribbled more lotion over my cock and her feet where they came together, and, if anything, she picked up the speed and pressure. Mom's expert ministrations to my foot felt better than most pussy fuckings I'd had.

"I love it," she said. "I love my strong, handsome son fucking my tits and my feet."

She moaned as she pumped her feet up and down my shaft.

I felt myself welling up under the constant, heavy stroking of her feet. My cock surged.

"Oh mom," I moaned.

"Randy," mom moaned back.

The last thing I noticed before I came was the blur of her red toenails on either side of my swelling shaft.

Mom looked back at me. She knew what was about to happen, and just before I came her feet pulled on my cock to angle it toward her.

A heavy geyser of cum erupted from my cock, up and into the spray of the shower water. The downward flow broke the thick cum stream into white drops that spattered all over mom's body before it washed them off her. I saw cum that hit her belly button swept into rivulets of water that coursed down her abdomen and into the open, pink cleft between her legs.

My cum was in mom's pussy, I thought. Holy shit.

Before all of it could wash off mom scraped some of the mess off her body with her hand and brought it to her mouth and sucked it off. I sat and watched her, awe-struck.

She pumped me with her feet until she was sure there was nothing left to pump out. Then she took her feet away and placed them far apart on either side of her. She sat completely open and exposed to me as the water washed my cum off her body.

Mom grinned at me.

"That was a good shower. I think we've used enough water for now."

I nodded at her. I couldn't think of anything to say. My body was in a state of pure, unadulterated post-orgasm bliss.

Mom stood up, turned around under the water to finish rinsing herself off, and then turned the shower handle until the water stopped flowing.

She looked down at me. I looked up at her lean body, wet and gleaming and beautiful. Her pink, erect nipples stood out and the petals of her vulva opened to me.

I stood up and put my arms around mom.

"My god, mom," I said. "That was amazing."

"Yes, it was," she said.

We stood like that in the shower for a long time..

196 My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 06

SimonDoom

My mom always had a talent for looking elegant without trying too hard.

She looked elegant now, sitting to the right of me at a small, round, wrought-iron table under the shade of an elm tree on the patio of a restaurant in the city. Mom wore a sleeveless white top and a cornflower blue pleated skirt that stopped a few inches above her knee. Her legs were bare and tanned, and she wore blue pumps that matched her skirt.

I was dressed more formally than usual, in khaki pants and a pale blue, open-collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I also wore well-shined black loafers that had spent the entire summer in the closet. I had some plans for the day, and to pull them off I wanted to look older than I was.

Mom and I were having lunch together and enjoying the unseasonable warmth of a mid-fall afternoon.

When we sat down at the table, I was struck by the incongruity of mom's appearance and the memory of what had happened between us a few days earlier. I looked at the elegant woman in the white top and blue skirt in front of me, and for a moment I doubted whether my memory of our time in the shower together was even real. For the first half hour of our lunch, our conversation never touched on the crazy things that we had done together in the past few weeks. Mom asked me about school, and about my classes, and she told me an anecdote about an employee at the company she worked for that had been complaining about a boss with wandering hands. But she made no mention of the things we had done together, things I couldn't stop thinking about.

Mom got a phone call, and she said it was someone from work and that she had to take it. While she took the call, I looked out at the partly shaded patio around me and thought about the previous week.

Only five days earlier mom and I had lain on the shower floor while she had given me a foot job. Of course, it was impossible to get the images of that moment out of my head, and the next day I'd felt like a ravenous beast, wanting more of her. But it didn't happen. Our busy schedules got in the way, and during the brief times we were together over the next few days I had the impression from mom that she needed a break from the craziness. It was the same pattern as before. So, I laid off her for a while, or tried to. My cock got a workout from my hand several times a day, to ease my agitation. And I kept thinking about the next step to take. Because, whatever mom's hesitation was, I knew I wanted to take another step, and that I was going to. But what to do?

I didn't just want to fuck my mom. I mean, I did want to fuck her, very, very badly, but I wanted something else, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I wanted to push her. She had shown me something in her, and I wanted to tease it out, encourage it, bring it to full flower. I started to form a plan. It seemed crazy, and I knew mom would resist it. But I thought I could overcome her resistance, or, maybe more accurately, that I could say and do the right things to make her overcome her own resistance. I thought about it a lot, and I finally figured out a plan for the next step.

And that's what brought me to lunch with my mom on a sunny, pleasant fall day on the patio of a trendy restaurant.

Mom's call ended and she put her phone away. Before either of us could say anything, the waiter arrived. He brought mom a green salad with vinaigrette and me a seasonal squash soup with a dribble of crème fraiche over the surface. The waiter left, and we sampled our first courses for a couple of minutes in silence.

It was a surprise when, unprompted, mom asked me a question with no trace of a connection to anything we had talked about to that point during our lunch.

"Randy, do you think I'm a slut?"

The question popped out of mom's mouth with no warning. Mom had just finished a bite of her salad. My mouth was full of squash soup, which I had to work hard to stop from spitting up. I swallowed it, with some effort, and I looked up at my mom. She looked at me intently, with eyes wide and searching and her lips pressed tightly against each other.

"Mom, why would you ask that?" I asked.

Mom took a moment to marshal her thoughts before answering me.

"It's just -- everything we've done together recently. Randy, you've seen me in a way that sons don't usually see their mothers. We've done things together that mothers and sons don't usually do. I worry about what you think. What you think of me."

I was surprised. She hadn't said anything like this in the days after our last encounter in the shower.

"Mom, no," I said. "I don't think of you that way and I would never call you that. I think you're a very, very sexual woman. And you're hot. There's no doubt about that. But I wouldn't call you . . . that word."

Mom looked at me across the table, steadily, with a hint of a frown.

"You don't look satisfied," I said.

"Well," she said. "I appreciate what you just said. I just keep thinking about what we did in the shower the other day." She leaned over the table. "I made you come, Randy, with my feet! I just keep thinking how slutty I must have looked to you. What a slut I must seem like to you now."

"Mom," I said, "you sound like you're trying to convince me that you are a slut. Like you want me to think you're a slut. Is that what you want?"

That stopped her for a few seconds.

"No, that's . . . that's not it, I just want . . .." She couldn't finish her thought.

"Mom," I interrupted her. "You're a sexual person. I've learned a lot about you recently. And I love it. I wouldn't change anything about it. I love you exactly the way you are."

"You do?" mom asked me, her eyes searching mine.

"I do, mom," I said. I leaned over the table to talk to her more quietly. "And you can't really call yourself a slut if you're not fucking a lot of guys, and I don't think you've fucked anybody in over a year. We've done stuff together. But we haven't fucked. Yet."

I let the word "yet" linger at the table, and mom stayed silent. I leaned a little closer.

"But mom," I continued. "If you want me to think of you as a slut, if you want me to call you a slut, if that turns you on -- I will. Do you want your son to call you a slut? Is that what you want?"

I was speaking quietly but insistently. No one could hear me but mom, but I could tell she was hanging on every word. I could see the conflict and the desire in her face. But she didn't say anything.

"I'll tell you what, mom," I said. "It's been a few days since you've done anything slutty, so how about if I have you do something slutty and we'll see how we both feel about."

"You mean today?" she asked.

"I mean right now," I replied. I sat back in my chair and grinned at her.

"In this restaurant? Here?" she asked. "What do you want me to do?"

"Mom, "I said, putting on a lascivious grin for her, "Take off your panties. Pull them down your legs to your feet, and then kick them to me and I'll take them."

"We're in public, Randy," she said.

"I know, mom," I said. "But you told me before, when you were with dad, you spread your legs on the beach in front of over a hundred people who walked by. That was in public."

Mom had no reply to that. She looked at me. Then she looked over my shoulder, and then to either side of her. I could tell she was thinking about it. She wanted to see if anyone might be looking.

I saw the struggle in her face, but her desire won out. Mom exhaled a short, sharp breath of air, and then she put both of her hands under the table on either side of her dress. I saw what she was doing, just a little, through the lattice of the wrought-iron tabletop. I saw mom lift off the seat of her chair, her hands working at the panties under the dress fabric. Then I saw one hand reach quickly up under the dress. Just moments later I saw it: a pair of tiny blue panties, emerging from below the hem of mom's elegant dress and stretched between her knees. Mom wriggled her knees and legs, and the panties dropped down her shins to her feet. She covered them hastily as well as she could with her shoes, and then she looked up, obviously to see if anyone had noticed her. I didn't follow her gaze. I just looked at the fringes of the blue panties peeking out from under mom's shoes under the table.

Mom's eyes darted around the table in front of her until she looked down at her lap. She wriggled her torso until the napkin on her lap fell off, and then mom took advantage of the ruse to scoop up both napkin and panties off the ground. She covered the tiny panties easily in her fist and stuffed them into her small purse.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" I asked.

"It wasn't easy!" she said with a grin. "I hope you are satisfied."

"I'm satisfied with that," I said. "But that's not enough. I've got a lot more in mind than that."

I paused and let that sit with her. Mom looked at me with an expression of curiosity and puzzlement, with a hint of fear. She did not know what I had in mind, but she knew I had something in mind. And I did.

"Mom, do you remember our conversation?" I asked. "The one the other day where you told me about being on the beach with dad? How you were naked, and you showed off?"

I kept my voice down, but at the last sentence mom looked up and around her, with a nervous manner, obviously wondering if anyone could hear what I was saying. But no one could. I was speaking loud enough for her to hear me, but not loudly enough for anyone else to hear me.

I leaned forward.

"Do you remember that conversation?"

"Of course, I do," she said. "I can't forget that conversation, or what happened after it."

"Good," I said. "You told me something about yourself. That you like to show off. But you also told me dad didn't like it, and after that day you didn't do it any more when you were married." I paused again.

"O.K. You're right," she said. "I remember that. What about it?"

"After the things we've done together, mom," I said, "I can tell it's something you still want to do, but you weren't able to do it married to dad, and you haven't been able to do it until now."

She kept staring back at me, trying to maintain an impassive expression.

"Where are we going with this, Randy?" she asked me.

"Here's where we're going, mom," I said. "How about if I give you the chance to do what you wanted to do with dad?"

"What do you mean?" Mom looked nervous. She fidgeted in her chair across the table from me.

"I mean, mom, with me you can do what you wanted to do with dad," I said. "You can show off. I'll help you do that."

Mom didn't reply immediately, but she arched her brows, and the corners of her mouth twisted in a wry expression.

"How do you plan to do that?" she asked.

"Well, first, by getting you to take your panties off in a restaurant," I said, and I gave her a big smart-ass grin. "Which you've done already.

"And next, spreading your legs enough so I can take a photo with my camera."

"Randy, there are people all around us. If you do that they're going to see it." She furrowed her brow, and I thought it looked cute. She looked uncertain, but not shocked. We had done so much already that the shock threshold had moved a lot.

"OK, then," I said. "You take the photo with your phone, and text it to me."

She opened her mouth slowly as though she was forming the words to refuse, and I interrupted her.

"You can do it quickly, mom. I'll keep an eye out. No one's going to see you.

"And if they do," I continued and paused, "Then they see you. That's not so bad. No one here knows you."

Mom didn't look convinced. She stared hard at me and then turned her head in every direction to see if anyone might be looking at her. I looked too, and I didn't see anyone staring at us at that moment. Mom held up her phone. I knew she was thinking about it. But she wasn't convinced. She was in her public mode, dressed elegantly (even if she was without her underwear), and to do what I was asking her to do she would have to break out of her comfortable role.

But break it she did. Slowly, uncertainly, with lines of worry stitched across her face -- but she did it. Her gaze darted quickly back and forth, her head jerking this way and that like a bird's, so she could confirm that no one was looking at her. Then she whipped the phone under the table. I saw her legs part through the gaps in the iron table top. Her left hand pulled the skirt up a few inches, and her right dipped between her knees with her thumb on the camera button. She held the phone in place there, and then quickly brought it up to her face.

I held my phone up to my face, eagerly awaiting mom's text. I was aware of mom's thumb moving across her phone screen, but I couldn't look at it. My eyes were fixed on my own phone, waiting for the text to appear.

After what seemed like ages, the familiar ping sounded. A text. I clicked on the icon and opened it. The image on my phone screen was darker than I wished it was, the result of mom not having used a flash when she took the photo. It wasn't perfectly clear. But it was unmistakably a photograph of my hot mom's pussy under her blue skirt. I felt my cock stiffening as I looked at it.

"Satisfied?" mom asked me.

"Oh yeah," I said. "More than satisfied. You texted me a photo of your pussy, Mom. You have a very pretty pussy."

"I'll bet you tell that to all the girls," she said.

"Just the ones with pretty pussies," I said. "Yours is the prettiest I've seen."

"Not too loud, Randy," she said. "We're in public."

I used my fingers to zoom in more closely on the image of mom's vulva in the photo. The resolution was better than I would have expected. The soft skin, the delicate petal-like lips, even the hint of dew inside the depths between them -- all were on display in the photo.

"Did I take a good photo?" mom asked.

"It's great," I said.

I looked down through the lattice work of the table top and could see a lot of mom's legs exposed under the short skirt. Suddenly, though, her thighs snapped shut. I looked up from her legs to her face. Mom was looking at me, and she looked nervous and embarrassed.

"Are you suddenly getting shy?" I asked.

"I think somebody was looking up my skirt and saw me," she said.

"Isn't that what you want?" I asked.

"Randy," mom replied. "We're in public."

"You keep saying that, like it's bad," I said. "You've shown off a lot more in public before. "Why be shy now?"

"That was at the beach," she said. "And it was a long time ago."

"So, who is it? What does he look like?" I asked. I didn't turn around because I didn't want him to see me, whoever it was.

"I don't want to look back at him," mom said. "He'll notice."

I looked up and around us. Some sunlight was coming through the tree cover. Despite the shade of the trees overhead it still was bright. I had an idea.

"Pull your sunglasses out of your purse," I said to mom. "Put them on, and then describe him to me. He won't be able to see if you are looking at him with sunglasses on."

Mom paused before responding. But after a few moments she reached into her purse and drew out a pair of stylish sunglasses. She put them on.

"O.K., mom," I said, "Is he still looking at you?"

She didn't answer right away, but after what seemed like a minute of looking up, down, and sideways uncomfortably, she replied at last.

"He just glanced this way," she said. "There's someone else at his table. Looks like a girlfriend or a wife, maybe."

"So, he wants to look at you," I replied, "But he doesn't want to be so obvious that he gets caught. Is that it?"

"I guess so. It looks that way," she said. "He just looked this way again. Briefly. Yeah, he doesn't want to get caught. He's trying to look this way but he looks nervous doing it."

I thought about what I was doing. I was trying to orchestrate my mother's exposure to other people on a restaurant patio. What kind of son was I? What kind of son would do that? Shouldn't I do everything I could to shield mom's exposure of the intimate treasure under her skirt from others in public?

I knew my answer. My answer was "no." It turned me on to think about how hot my mom was. Mom had revealed herself to me; she'd revealed not just her body, but her desires and her fantasies. They were part of her hotness. I wanted to bring them out. I wanted to be the man that my father wasn't: the man that encouraged my hot mom to be hot and sexy in the way that, deep down, she wanted to be.

"Spread your legs, mom," I told her, in as firm and as authoritative a voice I could muster as a 19-year-old son.

Mom looked at me, briefly, with her mouth forming a big "O" and her eyes wide and quizzical and uncertain. I looked through the semi-open table top to see what her legs were doing, and they stayed pressed together at first. But not for long. I saw the bare knees, lying several inches beyond the hem of the blue skirt, part -- a little at first, but then more. As mom parted her pretty, bare knees, the skirt pulled back, exposing more of her firm thighs. Soon her legs were spread wide, just as I'd asked. A lot of each supple leg was visible beyond the edge of the short skirt now stretched taut. From my point of view, I couldn't see what was between mom's legs. But I could tell that someone sitting in front of her could. I wanted to look back, behind me, to see if mom's voyeur was looking at her now. But I resisted the desire.

"Is he looking?" I asked her.

Mom feigned looking at me, but I knew she was looking through her sunglasses beyond me to see if the man was looking at her.

"He is," she said. "He's glanced at me a few times."

"Can he see your pussy? Let me know if he can see your pussy," I said.

"Randy," mom said, "This is really embarrassing. I think I should cover up."

"You can't really cover up in that skirt in this position, though, mom," I said, "Can you?"

"No, I can't," she said.

"Then, hold that position," I said.

I looked through the table top, and I saw that mom held the position. She kept her legs spread wide and the skirt rode far up her thighs. Her head was inclined toward me, but I could tell that behind the dark lenses of her glasses she was looking at the man at the other table who was looking at her. She didn't move.

I gave her a moment to hold that position before speaking to her again.

"Is he looking at you?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "He's been sneaking glances at me. He's trying to be subtle because he's talking to the woman at his table at the same time. I can tell he doesn't want to make her suspicious."

"How do you feel about that, mom?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she responded.

"I mean, how do you feel about a man with a date looking at you, without underwear?" I asked. "He can tell you aren't wearing panties, right?"

She didn't answer right away, but she did answer.

"He did a double-take," she said. "Yeah, he can tell. I think he saw everything."

Mom's face was turned toward me and she held her head still as she spoke. Obviously, she was trying to hold on to whatever pretense she could that she didn't know what she was doing or that she wasn't aware that the man at the other table could see her most intimate anatomy between her spread legs. But a glance through the table top confirmed that she hadn't moved her legs, and that despite whatever pretense she was trying to maintain she kept showing herself to this man, and that she knew exactly what she was doing.

I wondered for a second what I was doing. Why did I want my mom to do this? My thoughts were complicated. I wanted to see my mom's pussy. I wanted to touch and lick and play with it. I wanted to fuck her; I knew that. But I wanted something more, too: I wanted to play with her, to tease out of her something that she'd partly revealed to me but that she'd kept hidden for a long time, something buried deep that nevertheless was a big and important part of her. I wanted it to come out. I wanted to be the one to make it come out. And I wanted to be the one to witness it coming out. I wasn't sure what was going to happen when it did. But I wanted to be there, I wanted to see it, and I wanted to be part of it.

The process was underway. My sweet, elegant mom was sitting at a restaurant with her legs apart and without panties, and a man sitting thirty feet away was staring at her vagina and mom was enjoying it and I was enjoying it, too.

This isn't a normal mom-son relationship, I thought. But it was too late to bring back normal. We had nowhere to go but forward. I wanted to see where that was.

"Mom," I said.

She didn't respond at first but after a beat or two the word seemed to break her from her reverie.

"What?" she said, shaking her head.

"I think it's time to leave," I said. "It's time for our next afternoon appointment."

I saw mom's brow furrow between the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

"Appointment?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see," I said with as little inflection as I could. "Let's go."

I left cash on the table next to the check the waitress had left several minutes earlier, and we got up. Mom closed her legs slowly, I saw, and stood up. We walked to the car, parked along the street nearby. I held the door of the car open for her as she got in. Her blue skirt rode up her thighs as she set her bottom on the passenger side seat, and for the briefest instant I glimpsed the sweet slit of her pussy between her bare legs. My gaze shifted to her face. She was looking at me. We both knew what I'd seen, and what she'd shown me.

Mom was ready for the next step, I thought.

I walked around to the driver's side, got in the car, and pulled away from the curb. I knew where we were going, but mom didn't. I hadn't told her. I wanted it to be a surprise. I wasn't sure, entirely, if she'd go along, but I thought she would, and I wanted to find out.

We drove along the city streets, away from the restaurant and the areas I thought mom probably knew best. As I drove the car I hit a few buttons to cue up a song list I'd prepared on my phone and that played over the car's speakers via Bluetooth. The song that played over the speakers was Danzig's "Devil's Plaything." It was an oldie, a lot older than I was, and I wasn't sure if mom would know it or not.

To my surprise, she did. Her face lit up after a few notes of the song.

"That's kind of old school for you, isn't it, Randy?" she asked. "That song's before your time."

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "I like oldies. Especially the hard rock ones."

"I wouldn't have guessed you even knew anything about Danzig," she said. "My best girlfriend and I saw them in concert in high school."

"Really?" I asked. "I wouldn't have thought you were the kind of girl to like them." I was surprised, actually.

"There's a lot about me you don't know," she said, with a smirk.

"I'm sure that's true, mom," I said. "I've learned a lot about you in the last few weeks. Stuff I never would have imagined. I want to know more."

She didn't say anything to that right away. I couldn't read her expression. Her eyes were shining and her lips were turned up in a slight smile.

"It's probably best if a son doesn't know everything about his mother," she said. Then she turned away from me.

"I don't know about that," I said. "I like what I've gotten to know so far." I glanced away from the road to my pretty mother. She sat straight in her seat and her legs were pressed together tightly, but her skirt rode high and exposed a lot of her supple, tanned thighs. I loved what I saw, but I wanted to see more.

"Hey mom," I said.

She turned back to me.

"What?" she said.

"Put your feet up on the car seat," I said.

"What?" she said again.

"You're still not wearing any panties," I said. "But I can't see it. I want you to show me. Put your feet up on the seat and pull up your skirt and turn this way a little and push your knees apart. I want to see your pussy."

I liked hearing the words coming out of my mouth. I sounded firm and confident, like I knew what I wanted and like I expected her to give it to me. But I liked the look on her face even more. The muscles of her face twitched. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows arched. Her lips opened as though in surprise and then closed quickly. I saw a battle of conflicting emotions in her expression at me: surprise, resistance, maybe anger, but, at last, without doubt, interest, and, maybe, surrender.

"We're in public, Randy," she said.

"That didn't stop you at the restaurant," I replied quickly. "It didn't stop you at the beach. Come on, mom. Spread your legs. Because I want to see you. Because you want to do it."

I held my gaze on hers, trying not to flinch.

She held her gaze on me, as well, and at first, she didn't move. But then she did: slowly and tentatively, at first, but then quickly. She brought her heels up until they rested on her car seat. Then with her right hand she pulled the blue skirt up her thighs, inch by inch, all the way. She shifted her body to me. And, finally, slowly, dramatically, she spread her knees apart. When she had spread them as far as she could, she was exposed to me, fully, lewdly. The sweet slit of her pussy was on display, framed by delicate lips. I thought they looked puffier than I'd seen them before, and I wondered if it was the result of her being aroused. But I couldn't be sure. I was driving and could spend only so much time looking at my mother's bare, exposed vulva.

"Good girl," I said. "I like it when you do that. I think you like it almost as much as I do."

"You do, do you?" she said. "You think you know what I like?"

"Well," I said, "You're sitting in the car with your legs spread as far apart as they can go and showing your pussy to your son, so my guess is you like it."

She didn't have anything to say to that, but she didn't move her legs, either, so I felt I had my answer. I had to struggle to keep my eyes on the road. I managed to, but not without frequent glances to my right at the sweet, pink opening between my mom's lean, firm legs.

I drove for a while in silence, and after a while mom spoke.

"Where are we going, Randy?" she asked.

"You'll see soon," I said. "We're taking another step."

"That's sounds . . . ominous," she said. "What do you mean, 'another step?' You didn't tell me anything about this when we went to lunch."

"No, I didn't," I said. "But I did ask you if you had the afternoon free, and you said 'yes.' It's only the middle of the afternoon. I'm taking you some place because I want to have fun with you. I think you'll like it. But I'm not going to tell you until we get there."

I looked sideways at mom and her eyebrows were knitted tightly. She was concerned. I thought about saying more to reassure her, but I didn't. Part of me enjoyed seeing her boundaries pushed and the worry that resulted.

I wanted to push those boundaries. I took my right hand off the wheel and set it high on mom's left thigh, probably no more than six inches from the ruddy, inviting slit between her legs. I squeezed her thigh. I felt her shiver, and I felt the muscle of her thigh twitch and contract, but she didn't move her legs. They remained open. I looked at where it lay on her leg and then I looked up at her face. She was looking at me, already, an expression of wonder and curiosity on her face.

I didn't say anything, but I move my hand an inch or two up her firm thigh toward the place between her legs, and I squeezed again.

She didn't move her legs, but after a few moments she spoke.

"Randy, that's far enough," she said.

"What's far enough, mom?" I asked.

"Your hand," she said. "Your hand is very close to my . . . you know. I think it should stop there."

"Why, mom?" I asked. "Why not let me touch you there? Let me put my finger inside you. I'll rub your clit. I can tell you're excited. You're aroused. I'll make you come as I drive."

I snuck glances away from the road to mom's face as I drove and as I talked, and I could see the impact of my words on her. She flinched, slightly, at the word "clit." I knew she wanted my hand to move up her thigh until it was between her legs. I knew she wanted my fingers pressing into the folds of her sex. But there was reluctance, too. I could see that. I tried to figure out why.

"I want to set a boundary there, Randy," she said. "I think we should stop before that happens."

"But why, mom?" I asked. I squeezed the interior of her thigh with my fingers, inches from her pussy. Her legs opened just a bit wider when I did. I glanced down and to the side and I could see everything. The thin lips were pulled back, just a bit, exposing the wet, pink flesh inside her pussy. It would take no more than a fraction of a second for me to plunge a finger inside her. I wanted to do it, so badly I could hardly stand it. But I didn't. I wouldn't do it until I knew mom wanted it. She wasn't ready. She didn't look at me. She looked ahead, at the road, maybe, or perhaps at nothing. When she spoke again her voice quavered but I could tell she was trying to muster an air of resolve.

"Because I want to," she said. "I want to stop there. I don't want you to touch me there. That's going too far. It's off limits."

My hand, still tantalizingly close to her pussy, squeezed her thigh again, hard, but it didn't stray any closer to its prize.

"O.K., Mom," I said. "I'll respect your boundaries. I won't touch you there, with my hands, or with . . . anything else." I grinned with the last phrase. "But I want something from you, in return. I want you to do what I ask. I won't ask you to do anything that crosses that boundary. But other than that, I'd like you to play along. O.K.?"

"What do you have in mind?" she asked me.

"You'll see, soon," I said. "We're almost there. I have some plans for you. I'd like you to go along. I promise I'll respect the boundaries you've set but I want you to go along with what I've got planned."

Mom's eyes were wide, and I saw the combination of uncertainty and excitement in them.

"Where are we going, Randy?" she asked. "What do you want me to do?"

"You'll see, very soon, mom," I said. I looked at the road ahead. We were in a part of the city a long way from home and from mom's workplace. I didn't want mom to be recognized when she did what I was going to ask her to do.

After driving for a while through unfamiliar streets we finally reached our destination. I pulled the car off the street into a parking lot in front of a low store front. A sign over the windows read "Secret Treasures."

"Randy, what is this place?" mom asked.

"This is our destination," I said. "I want to get some things for you. And for me." I smiled at her.

It was an adult entertainment store: a place to buy adult movies, clothing, and toys. I'd been there once before, to buy something for a girlfriend, and more recently I'd scoped out its website to see if it had what I wanted to get for mom. It did.

"Randy, what are we doing here? What are you up to?" mom asked me.

"I have some shopping to do," I said. "And I need you to help me with it."

I walked around the car to the passenger door and opened it for my mom. She started to swing her legs together out of the car when I held up my hand.

"Wait, mom," I said.

"What now, Randy?" she asked. Mom looked at me sideways, obviously curious and skeptical about what my plan was.

"Put your feet up on the seat," I said. "Then spread your knees apart, and pull your skirt back. I want to take a photo of you like that."

I was getting bolder with mom, and I wanted to keep pushing my luck. I didn't just want to fuck my mom -- although, I really did want to fuck her; I wanted to play with her, too. She kept revealing things about herself to me: not just her body, but her desires and fantasies. I wanted to keep teasing them out of her, guiding her, encouraging her to indulge them. That was why I'd brought her to the store, and it was why I wanted her to spread her legs wide while sitting in the car seat with the door open. I wanted her to get more comfortable exposing her pussy to me, even in a public place. I would need her to get more comfortable quickly for her to follow through with what I had in mind in a few minutes.

She didn't respond to my directions right away. She looked around. There was no one walking nearby that could see what she was doing. There were cars going back and forth on the street, though, and a driver in the right place at the right time who happened to look her way might see something. But it would be a fleeting glance. I looked at mom's face and guessed that she was making the same calculations about her getting caught that I was.

Slowly, she put her heels upon the car seat. She spread her knees wide. With her left hand she pulled the hem of the blue skirt back. She still wasn't wearing any panties, so her bare pussy came into view. It was utterly delectable, and, if my eyes did not deceive me, it was just little bit damp, too.

"That's great, mom," I said. "Just hold that position. Pull the skirt back just a little more. That's great. Hold still!"

I held up my phone. I didn't hurry. I was enjoying the thrill of having my mom expose herself in public, and I wanted to prolong the thrill for her as well. She looked nervous. But she did what I asked. Her hand pulled the skirt back another inch. I took the shot. Then I knelt until I was nearly at her level, and I held the phone closer to the gap between her legs. I wanted a close-up shot. I knew it would make her more nervous, too. I still didn't see any people nearby in the parking lot, but a lot of cars were going by, and if someone saw me it wouldn't be that hard for them to guess what I was doing.

"Randy!" mom said, excited. "Let's hurry up."

I could tell she was nervous, but she didn't move her legs. She still did what I had asked.

"Just a sec!" I said. "I want to get this right. There we go."

I held the phone very close, and mom's pretty pussy nearly filled the screen now. No question about it, a film of moisture coated her thin lips, which were peeled back just enough to reveal a hint of pink dampness inside. I took the photo.

"OK, mom," I said. "Thanks for being a good sport. It's time to go shopping."

Mom pressed her legs back together and pulled the skirt down and exited the car. I closed the door behind her while she stood by.

She's waiting for my next instructions, I thought. I liked how this was going.

"What kind of shopping are we doing today, son?" mom asked. Her smile twisted into a slight smirk, but her eyes shone with fear and excitement. Mom obviously was conflicted about what we were doing. But she wasn't stopping me.

"We are going to buy some things for you," I said. "And you are going to try some things on. I'll tell you as we shop. We're going to do some play-acting, 'cause I think it'll be better if people don't know we're mother and son. We don't look much alike, so I think we can pull it off. We're going to pretend you are a would-be model and I'm a photographer, and we're buying some things for a photoshoot. I'll call you 'Mona.' It sounds enough like 'mom' that if I start to slip when I talk to you I probably can recover and no one will be any wiser."

Mom's jaw was dropping as I spoke.

"Are you serious?" she said. "You're going to tell people that you're taking photos of me with sex toys?"

"Well," I said, "I don't know about 'people.' I probably will ask for help from the clerk. I don't know if anyone else will know. But if they ask, that's what I'm going to tell them."

She looked nervous, so I tried to reassure her.

"Mom, or Mona," I said. "Don't worry. We are on the other side of town from home, or from your work. I've been here before and scoped out the store. There aren't likely to be a lot of people in the story, and no one here is going to know you. They'll just know you as a hot MILF model named Mona. This is sex toy shop. People are used to kink. And they value their customers' desire to be discreet. Follow my lead, and everything will be fine.

"Besides, mom," I pressed on. "I know that there's part of you that wants this. You want to keep doing what we've been doing. We're going to. And I'm going to throw in some new things to the mix. Just follow my lead. I've got this all planned out. I'm not going to say it's going to be easy for you, 'cause it probably won't. But that's why you're going to enjoy it.

"Come on," I gestured to her. "Follow me."

I started walking to the door, and after a moment's hesitation mom followed me. So far, so good.

I pulled the door open and stepped back to let my mom enter first. I stepped in after her, and I scanned the scene in front of me.

I had been in the store once before, but I looked around to refamiliarize myself with the layout and see how many people were in the shop. It would be an exaggeration to say that the store was classy, but, for a sex toy and porn shop, it was appealing and not too cheesy. The owner obviously had spent enough money on it to make it look nice. The front of the store was a large room filled with racks and sexy clothes on display. Fetishy posters and shelves full of merchandise lined the walls. Against one wall was a large collection of sexy costumes, lingerie, and fetish wear. In the back were openings to two different rooms. Over each room was a neon sign, one of which said, "Movies Books" and the other of which said, "Toys."

I saw four people in the store. Behind the service counter sat a woman with short, dark hair, tattoos and a nose ring, clothed in tight black and gray clothes that gave off an edgy vibe, probably 30ish. A couple, both blond and maybe a few years older than I was, were checking out something at a display stand in the middle of the room. A lone man, maybe near 40, was scanning the lingerie section.

Enough people to make this fun, but not so many to scare mom off, I thought. It was perfect.

I wanted the clothes section, first.

"Mona," I called to mom, who was staring around her with her mouth partly open, obviously trying to take it all in. She didn't respond to her fake name at first but swiveled toward me when she realized I was talking to her. I saw the clerk behind the counter look up from a book and glance at us.

"Ever been to a place like this?" I asked mom in a whisper.

"Once, a long time ago," she said in an even softer whisper. "I bought a vibrator there. It was in another city, when I was on a vacation, with your dad. The store was a lot smaller than this, though."

"This should be large enough for our purposes," I said.

"I'm dying to find out what those are," she said.

"You will," I replied. "Very soon."

We walked to one end of the store until I found what I was looking for: shelves full of fetish and cosplay outfits. Mom looked at a black bustier and crotchless panty outfit hanging from a rack next to her.

"You'd look good in that . . . Mona," I said. "But I have something else in mind."

I scooped up two articles of clothing from an adjacent shelf and handed them to her.

"Try these on," I said. Mom looked at me with an expression of disbelief.

"This is a school girl costume," she said.

Indeed, it was. Well, actually, it was a stripper's version of a school girl outfit. The skirt was microscopically short, in a Kelly green, black, and white tartan pattern, and it fastened on the side with Velcro patches that made it adjustable. The "top" was a thin white shirt with a big scoop at the neck and cropped so high that it ended just under the breasts. The short sleeves were trimmed in a pattern that matched the skirt. I liked the green because I thought it would match mom's eyes.

"There's a dressing room over there," I said, gesturing with my chin to a spot against the wall behind her.

"You want me to try this on here? In the store?" she asked me in a furious whisper. "I can't do that! This skirt is tiny!" she said as she held it up for inspection. "It won't cover me. And I'm not wearing underwear!"

"Yes, you can try it on here," I said calmly and firmly. "No one here knows you, and they're not going to know you. Not only are they not going stop you, they're going to encourage you. You'll look fantastic in this. And you'll get to show off with no cost and no downside. You can do it . . . Mona. Let's do it."

"Did you hear me?" she said. "I'm not wearing underwear, Randy."

"Then you'll just have to wear the skirt carefully," I said. "Or not. There won't be any consequences. Let's go. Come on."

My insistence seemed to pay off, because mom followed me toward the dressing booth. No one was in it. It wasn't much to look at: two painted fiberboard panels standing out from the wall and held up by flimsy metal posts. An equally flimsy curtain, now drawn back, hung down and ended about a foot or more from the floor. Inside the enclosure sat a small stool. A long, skinny mirror lay pegged to the back wall, and to the right of it at eye level two hooks stood out to hold clothes on hangers.

"Go ahead," I said, sweeping my arm toward the open booth. "I'll wait here."

Mom fixed me with a hard stare, but it softened, and she said what I had hoped she'd say.

"O.K."

She went in and drew the curtain. Or, she tried to. It seemed to catch on something at the top, and when she finally managed to uncatch it and pull it across it didn't quite draw the whole way. A slight gap showed. It wasn't much, but I could see through it well enough to catch her eye. She was looking at me.

"Go ahead . . . Mona," I said. "I'll stand right here and block anyone else from looking.

"You're going to watch me undress?" she asked.

"Would you prefer it if the guy in the lingerie section peeked through and watched you?" I asked.

"No," said mom, "but you could turn around."

"I could," I said, "but I can't think of any good reason to do that. We're past that point, aren't we?"

She couldn't really argue with that, although I could tell she wanted to. Her eyes were wide and shining and she looked flushed, and I could tell she was excited. But part of her wanted to resist, too.

But she didn't want to resist too much. She began unbuttoning the blouse.

I didn't want to look like too much of a perv, even in a sex toy shop, so I stepped back from the booth a foot and pretended I was looking at my phone. But I wasn't, really. I was watching my mom, quickly unbuttoning and removing her blouse, exposing the smooth firm skin of her shoulders and tummy. Then she unzipped the skirt from the back and stepped out of it. I looked down at the slit of her vulva coming into view and felt the familiar stiffening inside my pants. She set the blouse and skirt on the stool and reached to take the school girl top, but she stopped when I insistently whispered, "Not yet."

She looked at me, and I stared at her bra and nodded. She unhooked it from the front and set it on the seat. My mom stood naked in front of me. I couldn't see all of her through the gap in the curtain, but I could see enough that my cock grew harder.

I stepped to the side, pretending again to look at my phone as I swung around, but in reality, checking out whether anyone was looking our way. The couple appeared to be busy on the other side of the room, but the 40ish guy in the lingerie section nearby seemed to be sneaking glances toward us. I swung around and noticed the curtain moving. Mom obviously had noticed I'd stepped to the side and was trying to pull the curtain completely shut, but it wasn't cooperating, and all the movement caused the gap to widen. I discreetly looked around again and caught the guy nearby looking away. No doubt about it, he was trying to get a peek of something.

I approached the booth again and opened the curtain a little.

"How's it going?" I asked with a cheeky smile.

Mom had pulled the top over her head and was fastening the skirt on the side.

"Just give me a moment," she said, and I thought heard her voice break.

I waited.

After another minute -- it seemed like it was taking a long time -- I heard a soft "pssssst" come from inside the booth. I approached it again and pulled the curtain back enough to poke my face through.

"Yes?" I said.

Mom had finished putting the outfit on; perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that the outfit was as on as it ever would be. The top ended immediately beneath her breasts, and It obviously was sized small, because mom's breasts, which were shapely and ample but not huge, filled and stretched its thin white fabric. The top wasn't quite see-through, but the material was thin and cheap, and it put the contour of her nipples (which looked erect, to my hopeful eye) plainly on display.

The skirt was perhaps even more deliciously skimpy. It was ridiculously short. I wasn't sure how short, in inches, but it was much shorter than any miniskirt I'd seen anyone I knew wear in public, and I'd seen girls I knew wear some very short skirts. Mom had pulled the waistband as low as she could to maximize coverage below, and the result was that it hung just below her hip bone. An incredible expanse of thin, supple waist was on display. Despite having been pulled down as far as it plausibly could go, the bottom of the skirt still ended very high on her thighs, and I could tell it extended no more than a couple of inches below the bottom of her pussy. Mom's thin but sculpted legs were fully exposed, as was the yummy gap between them peeking out from the under the skirt.

My mouth watered, and I wanted to drool. But I had an act to put on so I held back and gulped instead.

"Go ahead and turn around," I said.

I'm not sure if mom was more relaxed, but she seemed like she was more cooperative than before. She turned around, slowly, and showed me her back side. The skirt covered even less in back. If she bent over even slightly the cheeks of her perky ass would start revealing themselves.

I had no idea if mom had ever worn anything like this in her life. Probably not, I thought, if her reaction was any guide.

I pulled the curtain back all the way and stepped back. Mom's mouth opened and eyes widened; she obviously hadn't expected me to expose her to the store like that.

Oh, mom, I thought. If you only knew. We're just getting started.

I looked in the mirror on the wall behind her and saw the reflection of the lingerie shopper looking our way, and I think his eyes were even wider than mom's.

"Randy, what are you doing?" mom asked me.

"I need to see you in the light," I said, winging it. "You know, so I know how it's going to look for the camera in the shoot."

"Do you need any help?" said a female voice behind me.

It was the clerk. She'd emerged from behind the front counter, and now she was standing next to me with her emo aura and nose ring, eyes darting back and forth between me and mom.

"Well, maybe you can," I said, and I stepped to the side a foot to let her see mom better. Mom still stood inside the booth and didn't move.

"She's trying on an outfit, and we're trying to make sure it fits right," I said. I tried to sound serious, and professional. I had to bring my sales skills to the task to pull this off.

"Is this for a Halloween party?" the clerk asked, with a tone that suggested that if it was, she wanted to know where the party was.

"No, no," I replied. "It's for a photoshoot."

I leaned closer to her.

"I'm starting a website, and Mona is my first model."

The clerk's eyes went wide, and she said "Oh!"

I glanced at mom, and her eyes went wide too. But she didn't say anything. She was holding very still, and I guessed it was because she knew that it wouldn't take much movement to expose herself under the tiny skirt.

I reached out my hand to the clerk.

"I'm Randy, by the way," I said. She shook my hand.

"I'm Tracy," she said.

"So, what do you think?" I asked Tracy.

"If you're going for a sexy look, it's really sexy," she said. "She's tall, which makes the skirt look shorter. It's not going to cover much. But I guess that's the idea?" She turned from mom to me with a smile.

"That is the idea. We're going to start with the outfit, in a variety of poses, and then she'll take it off."

"Well, that sounds hot," Tracy said. "The school girl outfit looks great on her. But you need a few things to finish it. I can find them for you."

"That would be great!" I said.

"OK, wait here," she said.

I turned back to mom. She was standing in the same place, but her expression had changed. Where, before, she'd looked nervous, she looked less so now. She had a slight smirk on her face and I sensed her confidence was growing. She stepped away from the booth and toward me and leaned close.

"This is what you want?" she asked. "You want to show me off in this store?"

"I do, mom," I said. "Nothing bad will happen. No one you or I know will find out anything. The clerk seems cool."

"O.K.," she said. "I'm game. But I hope you're prepared. Once you let the genie out of the bottle you might not be able to put her back. Just so you know. And one other thing -- I want to keep to our boundaries. You know what they are."

"I know," I said. "I will." Mom's response threw me. I wasn't so sure who was in control any more.

Tracy returned, carrying a few items.

"I've got some things to complete the look," she said. "First, I've got some hair ties that match the skirt, so you can have pigtails on either side. Then I've got some thigh high white stockings. And then, to complete the look I've got some shoes. You look like a size seven, am I right?"

"You are," said mom.

"All right!" said Tracy. "Let's try these on. Let's step over here -- there's a chair next to the shoes."

We followed Tracy to the chair. Mom sat down, holding her legs together as she did so. Still, the skirt rose up, until it was obvious that her most intimate parts were just barely covered under the skirt as she sat. Tracy walked around behind mom and began bunching her hair to put the ties on. The ties sported a green tartan pattern just like the tiny skirt. Tracy put them on perfectly.

"Wow," said Tracy. "That's a great look on you. Very saucy. Now, before I put the stockings on, you have to agree to buy them. We don't let customers put them on before buying them."

"That's fine," I said. "I can hand you the cash now if you want."

"Not necessary," Tracy said. "As long as you agree to buy them."

Tracy walked around to mom's front and knelt in front of her. She looked up at mom's face. I saw eagerness in her eyes and moisture on her lips.

"Do you want me to help you get those on?" she said.

My mom looked down at Tracy's face and held her gaze. "Sure," she said slowly.

Mom stretched her legs out toward Tracy, who ripped the plastic wrapping off the stockings -- very quickly, I thought. She pulled one of them out and set the other to the side.

I looked around the room. The lingerie guy stood closer than before, and he was positioned perfectly to look past Tracy's side and up mom's short skirt. He was fiddling with something flimsy on a floor rack, trying hard not to like he was ogling my mom. But I could tell he was. This was going to get interesting.

"Lift your leg," Tracy said to mom.

Mom lifted her right leg off the floor and pointed her toe toward Tracy. Her legs parted when she did so -- not a lot, but it wouldn't take a lot to reveal everything. I saw muscles contracting in mom's smooth calf when she lifted it off the floor. Tracy took the stocking and placed it at mom's toes, and then she began drawing it up mom's foot, and her ankle, and her calf, with what seemed like undue deliberation. Her face was very attentive, and she seemed excited.

And then Tracy paused and let out an almost imperceptible gasp of air. I could see why, at once. She wasn't looking at the stocking, or at mom's leg. She was looking past it, to the uncovered spot between mom's legs. Mom had parted her legs to let Tracy pull the stocking on, and now Tracy could see that mom wore no panties. She could see her pussy. Mom looked steadily at Tracy's face, without so much as changing her expression. Tracy raised her eyes from under mom's skirt to mom's eyes, and then she looked up at me. I wanted to laugh, but I kept an even expression and cocked my chin a half inch forward to indicate she should keep going.

She did, pushing the stocking up past mom's knee, and, I thought, pushing against mom's knee with enough pressure to part her legs more. Mom didn't resist. She just sat there, looking crazy sexy in the skimpy outfit and her pigtails, legs drawing apart and skirt riding up now almost as far as it could go.

I looked around and the lingerie guy was closer still, and he was openly staring at mom with his mouth open. He didn't even see me looking at him.

"There, that one's done," Tracy said. You can put that leg down and I'll put the stocking on the other one."

Mom set her foot down, but she didn't move her leg back to its previous position against the other one. She kept it just to the side, enough to afford Tracy -- and me, now -- a view of what lay under the skirt. The lower part of mom's pussy winked into my view. What little I could see looked full and lippy.

Tracy started moving the next stocking up.

"That's going to be some photoshoot," she said.

"I'm looking forward to it," Mom said with a smile.

When Tracy was done, after pulling the filmy white stocking up mom's leg even more slowly than she did the last one, she said "Time for the shoes. I think you'll like them."

The shoes were a stripper's fantasy version of schoolgirl shoes: shiny black patent leather (fake, I was sure), rounded, platform heel in the front, and a ridiculously long skinny heel in the back. Tracy took each of mom's feet in her hands in turn and almost seemed to caress them as she buckled each foot into a shoe.

The clerk obviously was turned on by my hot mom. She wasn't the only one. Lingerie guy couldn't take his eyes off her, and neither could I. My cock was hard and pressing uncomfortably against the front of my pants.

"We're done!" Tracy exclaimed. "Let's go look in the mirror."

As Tracy stood up mom looked at me and winked. She smiled and I could tell she was fully immersed in the game. I wasn't quite sure who was writing the rules, anymore, but I knew what I wanted to do with her next.

Mom followed Tracy to a full-length mirror against the wall. The brief skirt flapped behind her, and with each flap I caught a glimpse of her butt.

I held my phone up to take some photos. Mom saw me through the mirror on the wall, and she pushed her butt out in my direction. The skirt rode up and more of her cheeks came into view. I snapped away while the discomfort in my pants grew.

"The outfit looks great on her, don't you think?" Tracy asked me.

"I do," I said. "It's going to look just right for the shoot we're going to do. But we need some more things. We need some toys."

I let that statement drop on mom and on the clerk.

"Do you think you can help us with that?" I asked Tracy.

"Uh, sure," she said, stammering over the words. "Let's go to the toy room."

Tracy led the way to the toy room, and mom and I followed right behind.

The toy room was much smaller than the main room of the store. It was rectangular and narrow and its walls were packed almost to the ceiling with shelves, featuring sex toys of every imaginable type.

Tracy, and then mom, entered the room and then paused, and they turned back toward me. They didn't know what I had in mind. But I had an idea. I scanned the shelves along the walls, stuffed full of colorfully packaged sex toys of every kind. Brightly printed signs showed the way they were organized into sections: "BDSM", "Dildos", "Vibrators", "Anal Pleasure", and others.

I walked toward the vibrator section. I looked over my shoulder and mom raised her eyebrow at me. I addressed Tracy.

"Tracy," I said, "Could you give me a hand? I'm looking for something and I could use some advice."

"What do you need?" she asked.

"A part of Mona's shoot will include a scene with a vibrator," I said, "And I'm trying to figure out what the right one is."

I could tell Tracy was imagining the shoot. She looked distracted and her eyes looked unfocused.

"So," I continued, "I want to get something that's reliable, and will make her come. And something that looks good. Any ideas?"

I looked past Tracy, and mom was giving me a look. I think she was mildly shocked at what I was saying to the store clerk, but there was a twinkle in her eye and her mouth turned up in a smile on one side, and I sensed she was game for the challenge. I was determined to find out.

Tracy appeared to refocus on the task at hand. She reached toward a box on the shelf and pulled it off. She held it in front of me. Beneath the see-through plastic front cover lay the biggest vibrator I'd ever seen. It had two prongs, and buttons for multiple settings, I guessed. It was an impressive monster of a sex toy, but it wasn't what I was looking for.

"I think I want something a little slimmer," I said. "I don't want the sex toy to be so big it obscures Mona. Do you have something that's smaller with more elegant lines but still effective?"

Tracy seemed to think a moment; then, she went back to the shelf, put the box back, and pulled another box down.

I heard a noise behind me. I turned and saw the lingerie guy wander into the toy room, tentatively. He looked quickly away from us and toward the shelves, but I had no doubt he wanted to see whatever mom happened to do. I gave him a friendly smile to let him know it was O.K. to watch the fun.

I turned back to Tracy and saw the package she held front of me. It contained a long, slender, pink vibrator. Its profile was simple and skinny; its surface was unadorned. Two-thirds of the way up its length, it bent at an angle, and it bulged at its tip.

"This one is powerful, and it has a variety of settings, but it's not bulky," said Tracy. "It might be what you are looking for."

"It looks just right to me," I said. "We'll have to give it a try to make sure. Is that O.K.?"

"You mean here?" Tracy said. Her eyes bugged wide. "Uh . . . I can't let you use it without buying it."

I fished my wallet out of my back pocket.

"No problem," I said. "I'll buy it. I've got cash the money to cover it. But I'd like to try it out on my model before I leave. Can I do that?"

Her eyes grew even wider than before, and her mouth dropped open.

"Well . . . ." The clerk stammered, struggling to get the words out. "We're not supposed to do that. The owner tells us we're not supposed to let stuff like that go on."

"Oh, I understand," I said, trying to put on my most persuasive voice. "It's a classy operation. You don't want to get in trouble. But it does seem kind of quiet today, and we can just try it here in this back room. It won't bother anybody. And I thought you could help me with the toy while I took some photos." I held up my phone.

Tracy's eyes, uncertain and fearful, lit up when she heard that. She looked over at mom, running her eyes down mom's body until they stopped at the hem of the tiny skirt where it lay over her immaculate, lean thighs. I saw the tip of her tongue run along her lips. Mom stayed quiet, looking at me the whole time. I couldn't read her expression, but she hadn't said no or run out of the store, so I decided to press on.

"Here's the cash," I said, holding up the money. "I'll buy it regardless. OK?"

Tracy hesitated, but she nodded her head slightly. "OK, I guess. But let's make it quick. I should get back to the front counter."

"We'll do that," I said with a grin as I tore into the package containing the vibrator. In a few seconds I had it out of the package. "I think we're going to need a battery," I said.

"I'll grab it," Tracy said, scurrying out of the room.

It was just mom and me, plus the lingerie guy at the other end of the small room pretending he was looking at something on the shelf when we all knew he was trying to listen in and hoping to see something.

Mom drew close to me and talked softly so he couldn't hear.

"So, Mr. photographer," she said, "is this what you want? Are you sure?"

"I am . . . Mona. We have to try out the goods before our . . . shoot."

"Well you're going to get a good show, Randy. I hope you can handle it."

Tracy returned with two batteries in hand. She plopped them into the vibrator handle and then looked up at me.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Now we start," I said. "Mona, you get on the floor, on your hands and knees."

"The floor?" mom asked.

"It looks clean," I said. "It's clean, isn't' it?"

"We clean it every day," Tracy said, ready and eager to get started.

"it's clean," I said to mom. "Let's do it."

"Well, here goes," mom said.

Mom turned away from Tracy and me, slowly, and then she crouched down. She put her hands on the floor in front of her, and got on all fours. As her body moved forward, away from us, the skirt rode up her butt, exposing more skin. Mom was fully into the game, and she wasn't waiting for me to give orders. She pressed her chest toward the floor and aimed her ass toward the ceiling, and she moved her knees, now resting on the floor, farther apart. Now everything was completely exposed: her pussy, lips parted and glistening, and her sweet, puckered asshole. Her ass swayed from side to side, almost imperceptibly. In the pose she'd taken, mom looked feline and feral.

I heard a not-quite-stifled gasp behind me and turned and saw the lingerie shopper draw closer. I gestured with a turn of my head to indicate it was fine for him to look.

"OK, Tracy," I said. "You do the test with the vibrator and I'll take some photos with my phone to see how it looks."

Tracy needed no more prompting. She flipped the switch on and the vibrator emitted a low buzz. She moved the tip of the vibrator forward and touched it to the bare skin to the side of mom's clit. Mom flinched, but then moved her ass back in place. She was ready for it, I could tell. The slender vibrator contacted the skin between mom's legs once again.

Tracy moved the tip of the vibrator away from mom's pussy and out toward the right cheek of her butt. She barely pressed it against mom's skin as she traced wide circles over one ass cheek and then the other. Mom's reaction, at first, was to flinch, but that changed, and soon I could see her butt rock with the vibrator as it moved one way and then another. After another minute, Tracy, who seemed to know what she was doing, moved the vibrator back to mom's clit. She held it against it lightly at first, and then with more pressure. The pink nub of flesh shook at the touch of the vibrator, and mom's whole body shuddered and she let out a moan.

No longer content to watch the vibrator tip doing its work against mom's pert clit, Tracy pushed it down and in. It slipped past mom's lips and into her depths without any obvious resistance. Mom let out a gasp and her body jerked forward involuntarily. I thought I saw wetness between her legs that I hadn't seen there even two minutes ago.

Suddenly, I heard a voice at the door of the room.

"Holy shit!" a male voice exclaimed. It was the male half of the couple from the front of the store. He stood just inside the entry to the room and his jaw had dropped open. His girlfriend stood next to him and her mouth was agog as well.

"Come on in,' I said. "We're testing this vibrator. If it works out I'm going to use it in a photoshoot with Mona here in the next week."

They stepped into the room and circled behind mom. Now, a small crowd of five people stared down at mom's naked ass with a slender pink vibrator tickling the side of her clitoris. I decided to give everyone a better view and I flipped the skirt back so the bottom hem now was on her back. Mom was even more exposed, and she responded by spreading her knees on the floor farther apart and pointing her ass even more in line with the ceiling. Mom let out another low moan as Tracy guided the tip of the vibrator into the furrow between her lips. Tracy pressed it up and down against mom and then used the pressure to push back mom's lips until they were spread back and opened like the pink wings of a delicate butterfly. I looked up at the faces around me. Everyone was transfixed by the site of my mom on the floor -- Tracy, most of all, I think. Her attention never wavered from mom's open pussy.

Mom shifted her weight onto one hand, and with the other she reached between her legs. Thin, elegant fingers peeled back the lips of her pussy farther, giving all of us an even better view.

"Can I take a photo?" said the single man, who took his phone out of his pocket.

Mom spoke up between moans and short breaths: "No photos! Just the photographer."

I looked at the man, who looked disappointed.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "You can take a photo of her ass from this angle, but no photos of her face. Mona doesn't want to show her face in any photos until the photoshoot we're going to do. Can you agree to that?"

"Sure," the guy said. He scooted in closer, until he was just two feet from where the vibrator was dancing and gliding over and into mom's wet pussy. He pulled his phone out and held it close to mom's ass and snapped several photos. Then he pulled the phone back and looked at it, evidently scanning the photos he had just taken. "Awesome," he said quietly.

Meanwhile, the vibrator was having its effect on mom. Her whole body was undulating to the rhythm of the slender wand, which Tracy was mashing and sliding on and into mom's increasingly wet pussy. I barely could recognize her. She didn't look like my mom anymore. Dressed only in the school girl outfit, and moving the way she did, she looked like a stripper on a stage, performing for the crowd. And she was performing well.

Tracy spoke up.

"Mona, flip over, on your back," she said.

Mom didn't respond at first, just kept rocking and swaying her ass and her body in sinuous motions, but then, slowly, she rotated her whole body around. She put her butt on the ground to the side, and shifted her weight onto it. The she straightened and lifted her left leg off the ground and held it out straight to the side, and then held it aloft. pointed at the ceiling. Finally, she rotated onto her back, and she brought her knees up to her chest and held both of her feet in the air. She used one hand to pull the skirt up more so her audience could see everything. Her eyes were shining and her mouth was open.

My god, I thought, she loves this. I couldn't believe I was looking at my mom displaying herself the way she was. Only an hour earlier we had been having lunch at an upscale restaurant, and now my mom was on her back on the floor of a porn shop, legs high in the air and showing off her naked body to a crowd like a stripper. A felt a twinge of something -- guilt, uneasiness, something -- about my role in getting mom to this point. I wasn't too worried about the people around her. They seemed harmless, and they didn't know her, and so far, no one had tried to take a photo of her face that could be used to compromise her. But still, she was in as revealing and vulnerable a position as she could be. Anything could happen. I felt responsible for her. But, I had to admit, I was enjoying it too. I loved what she was doing as much as she did.

Tracy pressed the vibrator forward again, and now she begun fucking mom with it. She pressed a switch, and the buzz grew louder with the higher setting. Tracy pulled it out of mom and pushed it right over mom's clit, and mom squealed. Mom's pussy responded as well. It was wide open for everyone to see, pink and peeled back and slick with her juices. I could see it was getting visibly wetter. Mom's body bucked against the touch of the vibrator; the vibration level obviously was near the maximum of what mom could stand. Tracy then began moving the vibrator in circles around mom's clit. She moved in even closer. She was enjoying it as much as mom and I were, and she was focused utterly on her task.

Mom's body suddenly shuddered. She threw her head back and let out a squeal that was almost a scream. Then it happened. Her legs splayed apart even more than before, and her ass lifted off the floor, and then from the depths of her pussy a geyser erupted. Wetness pulsed from her pink and spread-open flesh. It spurted forward and fanned out into a thick spray of clear liquid. It hit Tracy's surprised face in short, sharp bursts.

My God, I thought. Mom squirted, and she squirted on the store clerk. Tracy's face was splattered with mom's wetness, and it dripped off her chin onto her shirt. Her mouth hung open in plain astonishment.

Mom looked up at Tracy in equal astonishment from between her spread, bare legs. Her face betrayed shock and distress.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know that was coming. I had no idea I was going to do that."

"No," Tracy replied, her chest heaving. "Don't apologize. That was awesome. I've never seen anything like that. I need to get a towel, though. I'll be right back."

Tracy clicked the vibrator off and handed it to me. She stood up, drenched and dripping, and hustled out of the room.

Mom still lay on her back, with her knees still far apart and shaking from her orgasm, and her audience standing mesmerized in a half circle in front of her. I was kneeling near her, with the now-quiet vibrator in one hand and my phone in the other. But I was too distracted to take any photos. The lingerie guy stood with his eyes zeroed in on mom's gaping pussy. He didn't say anything. The young couple were staring at mom, too. The girl nudged her boyfriend and pointed to the vibrator in my hand.

"I want one of those," she said.

Mom seemed to be waiting for a cue from me, so I stood up and offered her my hand. It was time to end the show. Or, at least, to move on to another scene. Mom took my hand and stood up slowly. Her legs wobbled. She drew her face close to mine.

"I can't believe that just happened," she said.

"I can't either," I said. "Look out. It's wet down there," I said, pointing to the floor that was slick with the results of mom's orgasm. I took her elbow and escorted her a few feet to the side so she wouldn't slip.

Tracy came back with a big wad of paper towels. She was toweling off her face as she entered the room. Then she dropped to her knees and began soaking up the mess on the floor.

"Time to move on," I said softly to mom. "Why don't you get your clothes in the changing room. I'm going to pay for the stuff I'm buying."

"Good idea," she said. "I think it's time to get out of this outfit."

"No, don't change," I said. "I want you to stay in that outfit when we leave."

"Randy . . .." mom said.

"Just do as a I say . . . Mona."

She looked skeptically at me but didn't argue. Then she walked out of the room. Everybody in the room stared at her butt in the tiny skirt swishing behind her as she exited. I roused myself and walked quickly to the shelves in the room to take some things I wanted to buy -- things I thought I would use later. I worked quickly, gathering them under my arm and then walking to the clerk's counter at the front of the store. Mom was gathering her things in the dressing room. Tracy rang up the items I bought, and I handed her the cash to pay for them. A few wet spots remained on her shirt. She bagged the items.

"Thanks for your help," I said.

"Thank you," she said. "Come back any time."

I turned from the counter and mom was there, still in her school girl outfit and with her other clothes in her arm.

"Let's go," I said.

I walked to the front door and mom followed me, but when we got there she hesitated.

"Randy, I can't go out in public like this," she said.

"Yes, you can," I said. "It's not far to the car."

After hesitating, mom walked out the door in the skimpy school girl outfit. I followed her. She walked quickly toward the car. I had a remote-control key, but I didn't open the car doors right away. I wanted to see my sexy, pretty mom exposed in the tiny school girl outfit in the parking lot. When she reached the passenger side of the car she pulled at the door handle, but it didn't give. She looked up at me.

"Randy," she said, "Open the door."

I didn't do so until I reached the passenger side door behind her, so I could open it for her. As I did so, I heard the loud, prolonged honk of a car horn and the scream of a male voice coming from a car hurrying past. Mom obviously was getting some attention from the traffic nearby. I decided it was time to get her out of there.

I held the car door open. Mom got in. The skirt was so short that she couldn't help exposing everything as she got in, and I enjoyed the view.

A minute later I was driving down the street away from the store and toward our home.

"Mom," I said, "Put your feet up on the seat and spread your legs open. Hold that position until we get home."

She looked at me in response but didn't say anything. Then she did as I asked, and her legs were splayed open. It was hard to concentrate on driving with mom's pussy on display. I drove carefully along the streets, on the way back to our home.

"How did you like our visit to the store?" I asked her. She didn't answer right away.

"I'm not sure what to say," she said. "I've never done anything like that. I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I did that in front of my son."

"But you didn't answer my question," I said. "My question is, did you LIKE it? I don't care whether you can't believe it. I want to know if you enjoyed it."

"Randy, I showed my you-know-what to five people on the floor of a porn shop. One of those people was my son. I came. I squirted. I'm still trying to get used to the fact that it actually happened." She looked ahead, out the windshield. "But yes. I enjoyed it. It turned me on."

"Are you still turned on, mom?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I am."

"Good," I said. "Then I want you to stay that way. Stroke your pussy. Rub your clit. But don't come. I don't want you to come until we get home."

Mom shifted in her seat, giving me a better view of her pussy. Then she put a hand between her legs and touched herself. The tips of her fingers stayed on and near her clit, as we drove through the city on our way home. She put her head back against the seat. She moaned and she sighed. But she didn't come. She kept herself under control, aroused but just shy of reaching orgasm. It was satisfying to know that mom was doing what I asked her to do.

After half an hour of driving, I turned onto our street. Mom never changed her position, or stopped what she was doing. She kept her pussy exposed in the tiny skirt as I drove through our neighborhood. I imagined what our neighbors would think if they knew what mom was doing and how exposed she was.

It would depend on which neighbor it was, I thought. If it was Mr. Daniels, our old neighbor next door, I was sure he'd beat his old cock until he came while thinking about my mom. But if it was wife . . . she'd be scandalized, and she wouldn't stop talking about it until every other neighbor knew what she knew.

At last, we reached our house, and I pulled into the driveway. I parked in front of the garage.

"Randy," mom said, "Can you park in the garage? I can't let our neighbors see me like this."

"Then you're going to have to move fast, mom," I said. "I'm parking here. You're going to have to get out of the car in that outfit and walk to the door."

"Randy!" she shouted at me. "They might see me! It's one thing if it's strangers who don't know me. It's another if it's people who know me. I can't do that."

"It's a risk you're going to have to take, mom," I said. "Look around. There's nobody on the street. If you get out quickly, probably no one will see you. But you have to take the chance. You know it turns you on, mom. I know you. You like the idea of people seeing you like this. They probably won't. But there's that risk."

I opened my car door and stepped out.

"I'm going to go to the front door and open it. Follow me. Move quickly if you don't want anyone to see you."

Before she could say anything, I shut the car door and I walked to the house. I opened the door. I saw mom in the passenger seat of the car in the driveway, not moving. I gestured toward the door. Finally, mom opened her car door. She got out and skittered in quick, short steps to the door. I guessed she thought that with short steps she'd be less likely to expose herself in the short skirt. It was the first time I'd seen her in full sunlight in the school girl outfit. The sun exposed the thinness of the white fabric of the top. Her nipples were on view. Her legs were impossibly long and lean under the narrow swath of her tartan skirt. She must have been nervous about the possibility of a neighbor seeing her, but I looked both ways down the street and didn't see anyone. I opened the front door for her and she hurried inside. I closed the door behind us. I was alone with my hot, scantily-clad mom for the first time that day.

"You were awesome, mom," I said.

"Thanks, Randy," she said. "I guess. I can't believe that just happened. I can't believe what you asked me to do at that store."

"Yeah, it was weird," I said. "But you did it. You were incredible."

"Well, thanks again," she said. "So, what now?" Mom stood there, inside the front door, in the entry way. Her tits showed through the thin fabric of her white top and the tiny skirt covered her pussy by no more than half an inch.

"I'm glad you asked, mom," I said. "I've got something for you. I picked it up at the store while you were getting your clothes. Wait here." I held up my hand and spoke to her in the bossiest tone I could manage without making her laugh.

Mom waited, looking at me. I ran with the store bag to the kitchen and pulled out a clear, plastic-wrapped package. Inside was a dildo, flesh-colored, eight inches long, with a suction cup on the bottom. I tore the wrapping away from it. I turned on the faucet and ran it under warm water, making sure to wet the bottom. I ran back to the entryway, where mom waited for me in the same position.

"You won't let me fuck you mom," I said, "So I want you to fuck something else." I held the dildo in front of her face, and the tip wiggled back and forth. I knelt and slapped the suction bottom down hard on the floor with a loud smack.

"Fuck that, mom," I said. "Fuck it right now. Fuck it for me, in front of me."

Mom didn't do anything right away. She looked, wide-eyed, at the big dildo fastened to the floor in front of her. Then she looked up at me. Her eyes searched mine. Her eyes betrayed so many feelings: desire, uncertainty, fear. Raw, animal need. I nodded to her, and looked down at the dildo in front of her. I held my phone up to let her know I was going to photograph whatever she did. I saw her uncertainty melt and give way to something else. Her jaw clenched, and her eyes focused on mine. I saw her hands go to her skirt, to the side of her hip. She opened it and the Velcro made a ripping sound as the sides of the skirt parted. It fell past her hips and down her legs to the floor, and suddenly mom was nude below her waist. Her pussy was on display to me again. Then she stepped forward, directly over the dildo. She looked down at it again. She squatted over it, down, down, all the way until the tip of the erect rubber dildo was no more than an inch from the opening between her legs. She perched right over it and spread her legs back, wider, wider, all the way until they were as far back as they would go. She pushed her pelvis forward, until the tip of the dildo contacted her clit. She rocked up and down, and back and forth, the dildo never losing touch with the raw, pink folds of skin between her legs.

Mom still wore the ridiculously high heels she'd put on at the store, and I marveled at her ability to balance on them while squatting over the dildo. She put her hands in the air. She moved up and down, her clit moving over and against the dildo. I saw it move in and out of my view. Then she reached down and grabbed hold of it, and she pressed it against the folds of her sex. Her pussy was wet; I could see that from the entry way light reflecting off it. She was lubricating the dildo with the wetness from her pussy.

I scarcely noticed as my hand went to my cock and squeezed it. I began stroking myself through my pants. The sight of my mom had made me instantly hard, and my cock pushed uncomfortably against the cloth of my pants, straining to escape.

The head of the big dildo pushed against the lips of mom's pussy, spreading them back as she rocked up and down. She paused on each upstroke of her body, and when she moved down the dildo would slide up and almost inside her. Each time she moved down the head of the dildo pushed a little more deeply inside her, until I thought for certain it would push, finally, inside her. But each time it just missed. I was mesmerized. I saw the head of it getting slicker and slicker with her wetness. Without slowing her rocking against the dildo, she pulled the tiny top up and over her boobs and her shoulders with a dramatic sweep of her arms. She tossed the little, bunched-up piece of white fabric to the side. Now mom was fully naked, save for her schoolgirl stripper heels, thigh high white stockings, and twin green tartan hair ties. She bought her hands up to her breasts, cupping them and pinching her nipples as she held her gaze on me.

She kept rocking that way for another minute while the tent in my pants grew bigger. God, I couldn't stand it.

"Take it out," she said in a husky voice.

That sounded like good advice to me, so I pulled the zipper down and whipped my hard cock out. I stepped closer to her. I stroked myself as she undulated against the fake cock on the floor. I wanted to see it inside her, stretching her. I couldn't stand the wait. Apparently, mom couldn't stand it either, because she reached down and held it and in one swift descent impaled her body on the pale rubber shaft. She moved up and down on it several times, each time getting lower on the downstroke. Since she was perched on her shoes she couldn't quite take her body all the way down, but she took at least five inches of it in her. Now she was bouncing up and down on it, faster and faster. She began squealing faintly each time it pushed into her.

She shifted her position. Without lifting off the cock entirely, she brought her knees to the floor. She raised her lithe body off the dildo, until only the uppermost tip of it was still inside her. Fluid was running down it, and the entire area between mom's legs was slick with her juice. Then with a quick downward thrust mom took the whole thing inside her. Her pussy pushed against its thick base and I could see a dangling, wet lip touch the floor. Mom moaned and threw her head back. She put her hands on the floor behind her and leaned her body back, back until I thought she couldn't bend her torso any further. Her blond pigtails bounced in the air with every stroke. She was completely immersed in the pleasure the big cock was giving her.

She's going to come again, I thought. And I was right. I saw her body writhe up and down and around in an accelerating loop of raw, animal joy. As she pressed her body down on the big dildo, filling herself, she shuddered violently and spurts of fluid sprayed from her and onto the ground. But mom didn't stop. She kept going. She looked at me and with a finger gestured to me to come closer to her. I didn't need any persuading, so I did.

When I came close, mom reached out and grabbed my cock in her hands for the first time. She used both her hands fully to grip and envelope the length of my cock. All the while she kept rocking up and down and back and forth on the floor dildo, despite her just having come. I was amazed at her stamina. She pulled a hand away from my cock, opened her mouth, and spit hard into her hand. Then she grabbed me again, and, her hand lubricated, she began stroking me faster and harder.

I moaned with pleasure. I had never felt anything so magical in my life. As mom stroked me, my cock was no more than a few inches from her face. Her eyes darted back and forth between the head of my shaft and my face. She looked at me with an expression of sheer lust, her eyes wide and her mouth opened even wider. Her tongue hung out, slightly, and for a moment I thought she might touch it to my cock. But she didn't put her tongue any closer to me.

She did, however, hold her face just inches away, and the tip of my cock was pointed directly at her open mouth. The thought of spurting my cum into my mom's open mouth drove me wild. I thrust forward with my hips, pulled back, and thrust forward again. Over and over.

Amid heavy breathing mom started to talk to me. "That's right, baby," she said. "Give mommy your cock. Come for mommy. Splash my face with it."

Mom's talk drove me wilder still, and I felt my cock growing even harder as I arched my back and closed my eyes. When I opened them a little later I saw mom, her naked body framed in light streaming through windows over the doorway. She looked like an angel; a slutty, lusty angel, sure, but an angel, still. Her body twisted on top of the thick floor dildo as she grabbed and stroked me, harder and harder. My hot mom was a vision of pure sexual energy.

I couldn't hold back. I knew it. It was coming. My cock stiffened and my body shook. From deep inside me I felt the welling of the need for release and satisfaction. Something inside me contracted, shaking me all over, and the gusher of cum blew. I looked down in time to catch the first thick ropes of cum spurting from my cock. Mom obviously knew it was coming because she gripped my cock firmly and pointed it at her face. My cum splashed over her skin, and she twirled my erupting cock around so the cum would coat as much of her face as possible. I couldn't stop. Cum spurted from me, and mom pulled me and pointed me at her, and my cum spurted again. I moaned; I couldn't help it. I had no control over what was coming out of my cock or my mouth.

"Onh, onh, onh," I said. "Mom."

I closed my eyes briefly again as the reservoir of cum inside me emptied onto mom's pretty face. Before the last spurts left me, I opened my eyes to see what my cum had done to her.

My mom's beautiful face was frosted in a thick, creamy layer of my cum. It lay over her forehead, her cheeks, her chin. It dribbled off her nose. Irregular patches of it were caught in the blond strands of her hair. A gloopy blob of it perched on her upper lip, and with a quick flick of her tongue mom lapped it up and it was gone.

My legs were shaking. I saw mom looking at my body as it shook, and then I saw her body shudder again, as well. I looked toward the floor in time to see more fluid flowing from her cunt, over the latex cock and on to the floor. She let out a high-pitched gasp. I knew she had come yet again.

Neither one of us said anything for a minute as our shaking and shuddering subsided. Mom stopped rocking over the dildo and she stopped stroking my cock. But she didn't let go of it. She looked at the head, inches away from her cum-splattered face. Then her eyes shifted and she looked up, toward me. She didn't say anything right away, but her mouth opened and I could tell she was trying to muster the ability to say something as soon as her body would let her.

"So, Randy," Mom said to me finally, haltingly, as my cum dribbled down and off her face, "Do I look slutty to you, now?"

I reached out two fingers to her cheek, scooped up a big dollop of my cum, and then put my fingers to her lips. She sucked the jism off my fingers with a quick, noisy slurp, never taking her green eyes off mine.

"You sure do, mom," I said. "And I wouldn't have you any other way.."

197 My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 07

SimonDoom

Sweat poured down my back as I hacked away at the backyard bushes with long-handled clippers. It was mid-fall, and not yet noon, but it was unseasonably warm. I was shirtless, and the late-morning sun warmed my sweat-covered skin.

In a few hours, several friends of mine would be coming over to watch a pro football game with me. But, now, I was in the back yard, and I had gardening chores to do. Mom wanted me to trim the hedges. So, I stood hunched over overgrown shrubs, trimming away all the excess and unruly branches.

I clipped away at the bushes for twenty minutes, working up a fine sweat all over my body. I wanted to finish the gardening chores as quickly as I could, so I could go inside, get showered, and get ready to watch the game with my buddies.

My phone was velcroed to my bicep, and it was streaming some 90s-era grunge rock that I listened to through wireless earbuds. Music always made gardening chores, which I did not love, go faster.

I was so intent on my work and music that at first, I didn't notice the shadow of someone behind me. But, eventually I did, and I turned around to see my mom standing behind me.

I looked down rather than up. Mom wore very short, tan, denim shorts. On top, she wore a tight, white t-shirt, old and ratty, with a few visible holes and tears, shrunken enough that it left a strip of her firm tummy uncovered. It was obvious that she wore no bra. Mom was looking awfully hot for a casual, mid-Sunday morning around the house.

She surveyed the many piles of leaf clippings from my work.

"Good job, Randy!" she said. "I appreciate you doing all this work. The yard needed it and I didn't want to have to hire a gardener to do it."

"No problem, mom," I said. The mid-morning sun lit mom's blond hair from the side, enveloping her in an angelic glow. It contrasted with the saucy, sassy, and much less angelic expression in her eyes and face. She was looking intently at me and I wondered what she was thinking.

"So, what are you listening to?" mom asked.

"It's Pearl Jam," I said. "Alive."

Mom threw her head back and laughed, loudly. I couldn't figure out what was funny.

"What's funny about that?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said, although she said it like she didn't mean it. Her laughter subsided, finally. When she got control of herself and stopped looking at me, she looked at me and her eyes twinkled with the light of the morning.

"You have a birthday coming up soon," she said. "Do you know what you want?"

I gave mom a wicked grin and swept my eyes up and down her body.

"I'm looking at it," I said.

"Down, boy," she said, putting her fingers on my bare chest. "Be good."

"I'd prefer not to be," I said. "I think you'd like it better naughty, too."

On an impulse, I put my free hand, the one without the clippers, up to her face, and I pulled her face gently and slowly to mine. She didn't resist. Our lips touched, and I kissed her lightly, my lips just barely touching hers.

I felt mom's lips push against mine and open slightly, so I pushed harder against her. My other hand dropped the clippers and went to the small of mom's back. Now I opened my mouth, and hers opened with mine. My tongue took its chance to press forward and into her, mashing and twirling against her tongue.

Now we were making out, my naked chest pressed against her thin t-shirt covered boobs, and our mouths writhing against each other. Her tongue pushed back, seeking an entry into my mouth. Mine relented and let hers in. My hands now were against the back of her neck and cupped over her ass. We stood like that in the backyard in the morning sun, kissing furiously, heedless of anyone that might happen to see us through or over the wood plank fence that surrounded the yard.

"Mmmm, mom," I growled at her.

"Unnnnh, Randy," she purred back.

We twisted and pushed against each other like that, on the edge of the lawn, for several minutes. The only sound we made was our mouths sighing and smacking each other. I squeezed her ass with my hand, then I moved it to the crack between her checks. I wasn't supposed to touch her between her legs, or so she'd told me, but it wasn't clear that the rule applied if a layer of thin cotton separated my hand and her intimate parts. I decided to press the point. My hand pressed further down and between her check, and I pressed my middle finger down hard between her crack. It dug in. To my surprise, mom's ass pushed back against my hand.

Okay, I thought. Mom has no problem with this. I decided to test her responsiveness from a different angle. My hand slipped around her, to her belly, and then it slipped down her front to the space between her legs. I cupped her mound through the shorts and pressed my fingers against her.

Now mom pressed forward, against my hand again. She didn't have any problem with this either, I thought. I was surprised, and I wasn't about to waste this opportunity.

I extended my middle finger and poked at the place where, under her shorts, I thought her pussy lay. I pressed hard, and the pants gave way and I felt the finger, through her shorts fabric, pushing and spreading her apart. I kept kissing her to distract her, but I could tell she wasn't distracted. Her body fully responded to my touch and pushed back against mine.

I curved my middle finger and flicked it harder and faster between mom's legs. I wanted to see if I could make mom come. She didn't pull away, but after half a minute of my attention she put a hand down and grabbed my hand, and she moved it up half an inch.

"There," she said. "That's the spot." Then she kept moving, pressing the shorts-covered mound between her legs against my finger as it pushed and stroked against her. I kept pressing my finger against her until she moaned softly.

"Mom," I whispered to her, "How about if I take your shorts off and rub you through your panties. I'll make you come."

Mom's mouth curled into a funny smile.

"That might work," she said, "If I were wearing panties. But I'm not. If I took my shorts off you'd have your hand right on my pussy, and I'm not going to let you do that."

"Why not, mom?" I asked. "Why not let me? I want to finger you. I want to fuck you. Let me fuck you, right now, in our back yard. It will feel so good. You know I'm going to fuck you, mom. You know it's going to happen. Let's do it now."

For a moment I thought I might be persuading her, because she kept pressing the mound between her legs against my finger, which I pushed against her, trying to get her off through the cloth of the shorts. But then she pulled away and looked me in the eye.

"Randy," she said. "We set some boundaries. You know that. And as much fun as this is, I want to keep those boundaries and I want you to respect them. OK?"

"But why, mom?" I asked. "Look what we're doing here. Think about what we've been doing. I know you like it as much as I do. It would feel so good. I respect your boundaries, but they seem artificial." I was trying hard to put on my best salesman voice. I wanted to sell this badly.

"It doesn't seem artificial to me," she said. "I've done a lot with you, and you're right, I've enjoyed it. You've brought something out of me that was buried deep and I've enjoyed it. But doing that is a whole different step. And that's not something I'm ready to do. So, for now, you're just going to have to respect that."

Mom's voice sounded firm, and I could tell it was no use arguing. But I couldn't help but notice that she'd said she "wasn't ready" to take that step, and that I would have to respect that "for now." Mom's words gave me hope. My time would come. I was going to fuck her, I knew it. We were getting closer, but it wasn't going to be right now, or right here.

Mom's eyes widened and flashed at me.

"We can't do 'that,'" she said. "But there's no reason we can't have a little fun while you finish your chores."

A wicked grin spread over her face, and she stepped back. Then she pulled up her white t-shirt, all the way up to her neck, exposing her breasts. They looked even more perfect than I had remembered them. Her nipples glowed like hard, pink pebbles in the morning light.

"Oh, mom," I moaned. "You're so beautiful."

"Thank you, son," she said, pulling the shirt back down. She turned quickly, and she stuck her ass out in my direction and swayed and strutted in bare feet toward the side of the yard, where I had laid a hose under some bushes whose leaves were turning brown.

Mom reached the hose, and bent over to it with her legs straight. The muscles in her long legs were stretched tight and lean. As she grabbed the hose she looked back at me. I glanced at her eyes but turned my gaze quickly to her ass. The tiny, tight shorts were riding up, exposing a strip of the smooth skin of her ass cheeks.

Then mom turned around, put her thumb on the end of the hose, and sprayed herself with water. She let out a little, high-pitched "Onnnh" when the cold water hit her, but the coldness didn't stop her. She doused her chest with it, and then set the hose back next to the bushes.

She crouched down on the lawn with the fence and greenery behind her, her knees on the grass, facing me. She put her hands on her knees, threw back her shoulders, and pushed her chest forward, giving me one of the most arousing shows I'd ever seen.

Mom's soaked and threadbare white t-shirt perfectly sculpted her breasts now: full, ripe, and round. The shirt was almost clear now, and the dark pink of her erect nipples stood out. I stood in the middle of the lawn, watching her from fifteen feet away, my feet rooted to the ground. I was paralyzed with arousal.

Mom swayed her shoulders back and forth. Once again, I was hit with an overwhelming sensation of disbelief. Despite all we'd done together so far, it still was almost impossible to believe: this was my mom! Writhing in front of me, lewdly but proudly showing off her 41-year old tits to me, her son.

And she didn't stop there. Her fingers hooked under the bottom edge of her tattered and now soaked shirt and pulled it up. The expanse of mom's thin and lightly muscled abdomen came into view, but still she didn't stop. She swept the wet shirt up and over her shoulders and head and tossed it to side. Now she sat, like a hungry animal, topless.

She put a hand up under each tit and pushed it up. She licked each nipple. Most of me was brain-dead at this point, utterly captivated by what my mom was doing and nearly incapable of any kind of rational thought. But a little part of me, somewhere inside, was thinking, where did my mom learn to act like a stripper? She and dad must have done a lot more at some time in their marriage than she had told me about. Wherever she had received her education, she'd earned her degree, and here I was, her horny and grateful son, receiving the benefits of my mom's advanced knowledge of how to be completely fucking hot.

I put a hand down between my legs and felt the growing bulge and discomfort of my cock being trapped in the tight jeans. I was about to pull the zipper down when I stopped, because mom was doing something new. She sat back and quickly pulled the zipper of her own shorts down. The shorts were wet now, and not as easy to pull off, I could tell. But she pulled them off quickly anyway, her butt bouncing off the grass to ease the way and her legs in the air. In a flash they were off and lying on top of the wet t shirt on the lawn. And mom had been telling the truth: she wasn't wearing any panties. She was naked.

She put her feet back on the plush carpet of grass, and then she spread her legs wide. One hand steadied her behind her, and the other went between her legs. With two fingers she splayed open the lips of her pussy.

I think my jaw must have dropped and my eyes bugged out without my realizing it, because mom looked at me and laughed. Then the smile faded, and a lusty look took over her face.

She silently mouthed some words, exaggerating the movement of her mouth so I could tell what she was saying:

"Is this what you want?"

I nodded.

A sheen of water from the spray of the hose lay over mom's nude body, and it reflected the morning light, enveloping mom in an angelic glow that contrasted with her lewd pose.

My hand went to my zipper. I needed relief. I would jerk myself off to the sight of my hot, naked, stripper mom. Maybe she would let me come in her face, or her blond hair. I wanted to see that.

Before I started, though, I heard a loud male voice.

"Hey Randy," the voice called. "Doing some yard work?"

It was our neighbor, Mr. Daniels, the male half of the elderly couple next door. My mouth dropped open in shock as I saw his face appearing a few feet back of the fence directly behind mom. He was climbing a ladder, slowly, and I could see he had some clippers in his hands that, apparently, he was going to use to lop off some unruly branches from a small tree next to the ladder. I had been so busy watching my mom I hadn't even noticed the ladder being set in place, or heard Mr. Daniels's movements. I could tell that he hadn't seen mom yet, but that he would if he kept climbing the ladder.

Mom's face showed even more shock and surprise than mine, I'm sure, and she looked all around her, wondering what to do and where to go. If she ran away from the fence, Daniels would see her. She couldn't let that happen. She snatched up her shorts and shirt and did the only thing she could, crawling backward toward the fence and taking a place right next to it between two bushes. She pushed her back against the fence and brought her legs up toward her chest to minimize the chance that Mr. Daniels would see her.

Mr. Daniels climbed as high as he was going to on the ladder. He was high enough that he would have seen mom if she hadn't moved, but the fence blocked his view of her where she was crouching. He didn't start clipping right away; instead, he craned his head, looking around our backyard. Obviously, he was looking for mom. I'd caught him ogling mom many times. He was an old hypocrite, because he and his wife Erma were constantly gossiping about and disapproving of the moral habits of their neighbors. Mrs. Daniels was worse than Mr. Daniels. She was a hawk-faced woman whose expression took on a predatory scowl whenever she saw children near her lawn or people dressed in a way that she didn't approve of. I had no doubt that Mr. Daniels lived in fear that Mrs. Daniels would catch him ogling my mom one day. Woe to him if she did.

"Your mom around, Randy?" he asked. I was right; he was hoping to catch a glimpse of my mom.

I looked at my mom under the fence directly opposite under him, her head was directly under his, not more than 12 feet away from where he stood on the ladder. She put a finger to her lips. Her back was pressed as far back against fence as she could go, and her other arm curled around her shins to keep them close to the fence and out of Mr. Daniels's view.

"Nope, she's not around," I said, looking back at my elderly neighbor. "I'm sure she's not far away, though."

"Well, tell her I say 'hi', he said in a croaking voice. "Your mom sure is a nice lady. Lots of class. Why, even Erma says she has a lot of class, and she doesn't say that about a lot of people."

I saw mom put a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. I could almost swear that even from this distance I could see her eyes twinkle, and they looked up to the sky directly over her. Then she took her hand away from her legs, and she parted them, slowly, quietly, keeping them near the fence to avoid detection. Soon they were peeled all the way back, and once again mom's pussy was on display for me. Mr. Daniels had no idea that mom was so lewdly displaying herself directly underneath where he stood on the latter.

"Thanks for saying that, Mr. Daniels," I replied. "I think my mom is a classy lady, too. She's always telling me the importance of following the rules. And of being modest."

Mom gave me a wry look, as her hand went down between her legs and started rubbing there. I saw her folds pushed back and forth, up and down. She closed her eyes, obviously savoring the feeling.

I hoped Mr. Daniels would go away, but he was cutting branches very slowly, and he seemed to be in no hurry.

"It's a rare thing these days, people having class," he said. He lopped off a couple of branches and waited, then looked over the fence again, this time seeming to scan the house.

"Is your mom going to join you in the garden this morning?" he asked, hope in his voice.

"No," I said. "She's very busy doing something more important right now."

The conversation and the nearness of Mr. Daniels seemed to turn mom on, because her hand moved faster and faster, until it was a blur between her legs. I saw her legs jerk two or three times involuntarily, and her mouth opened.

Then she let out a little gasp. Not a big one, but loud enough that I could hear it, and I was sure Mr. Daniels must have heard something too, despite being somewhat hard of hearing. I saw his brow furrow.

"Did you hear something?" he asked. Mom's hand was clamped over her mouth.

"No, I didn't hear anything," I said. Mom took her hand away and mouthed the word "shit."

"Hmmmm," he said. He began to lean forward, away from the ladder, his head craning to see over the fence.

"Ron!" came a woman's voice from behind Mr. Daniels. It was his wife. Thank goodness. "Are you done with that tree yet? I need you." Her voice screeched, and Mr. Daniels looked downcast and resigned.

"Yes, I am," he called back in his croaky voice. "Coming." He turned back to me.

"Well, gotta go," he said. "See you later Randy. And tell your mother I said 'hi.'"

"I'll do that right away, Mr. Daniels," I said. He descended the ladder and his head dropped out of view, below the level of the fence. I gave mom the thumbs up signal.

Mom scooped up her top and her shorts, and she ran fast in a crouch from the fence toward the house. I chased after her. She looked back, as did I, and there was no sign of Mr. Daniels anymore. Mom opened the back door and ran into the house, and I followed right after her.

Inside the house, the door shut and Mr. Daniels's eager and prying eyes no longer a worry, mom stopped. She still was naked. Her shorts and shirt were soaked, and she showed no inclination to put them back on. Drops off water fell off her clothes and her body onto the wood floor -- plop, plop.

"Randy," mom said, "Can you get me a towel? My feet are dirty and wet, and I don't want to track up the house."

"Sure, mom," I said. I fetched a towel from the laundry room nearby and returned. It was a small towel -- big enough to clean off her feet but not big enough to cover her. I admit I wanted to keep seeing mom naked.

I knelt and gestured to her feet and mom lifted them. I wiped off each one in turn, massaging and wiping each one carefully and lovingly. But I took time to look up, too, to the slit between her legs, and to her eyes, alternately watching my work with the towel and searching my own eyes. Desire surged inside me at my mom's naked beauty and vulnerability.

"That was close," I said to her. "I think Mr. Daniels would have had a heart attack if he'd seen you."

"Thank goodness he didn't," mom said. "The last thing I'd need would be that old lech seeing me like that. The whole neighborhood would know."

I was done with mom's feet, so I put the towel down and stood up. Mom and I faced each other, me clothed and her nude.

"You liked that, though, didn't you, mom?" I asked her.

Mom smirked. She knew what I was asking her. She took a while to respond.

"Yeah, Randy," she said. "I liked it. You know your old mom well enough at this point that I can say that. I liked it. But we have to be careful. I can't let a guy like Daniels see me like that. I can't let the neighborhood know about that, and they will If I let old Ron Daniels see me."

"I know, mom," I said. My eyes ran up and down her nude, succulent body. "We have to be careful. But we can still have some fun. You know, I've got three friends coming over for the football game soon."

"Randy," mom said. "I am not going to get naked for your friends. If Tucker saw me that way everyone in the neighborhood would know before sunset. I can't allow that. I have a job and a reputation to keep."

"Mom, I know that," I said. "You're right about Tucker. You have to watch yourself around him. He's my best friend but he's not very discreet. He can't keep a secret at all. But that doesn't mean we can't have some fun today. We can. And I think you'll like it."

"What do you have in mind?" she asked. Her eyebrows arched high.

"I want you to put on a little show, mom," I said. "Within limits. Not so Tucker will go flapping his lips to everybody. You won't scandalize the neighbors. But I want to push you, mom. I know you like showing off and I want you to do that, this afternoon."

"Randy," mom said, "What in the world do you have in mind?"

I fished a crumpled piece of paper out of my pocket. I held it out to her, and after a moment or two of looking at it, she took it.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I wrote down what I want you to wear today, when my friends are over, during the football game."

Mom took the piece of paper and un-crumpled it. She looked at it and her mouth twisted. Then she looked up from the paper and back at me.

"What kind of son are you?" she asked.

"I'm the kind of son a mom like you wants to have," I said, my mouth turned up in a knowing smile. "Go ahead. Get showered and wear what I've written down. We'll have fun, but we won't cross any boundaries you don't want to cross."

At that, my naked mom took the slip of paper, clasped it in her hand, pivoted, and walked away from me toward her bedroom.

The day had gotten off to an interesting start, but I was certain it was going to get a lot more interesting.

Two hours later, the doorbell rang, and I let my friends, Alex, Mason, and Tucker, in the house. The game was about to start, so they quickly staked out their places on the chairs and sofa in the living room in front of the large screen television. I knew a thing or two about their appetites, so the coffee table in front of them was covered in bowls of chips and dip. I heard Tucker start boasting about the success of his fantasy team as I went to the kitchen to get some drinks. That started a loud but friendly argument over whose fantasy quarterback sucked the most.

The kitchen was divided from the living room by a floor to ceiling wall with a large space cut out to allow one to pass food and drinks across a counter from the kitchen to the living room. Three barstools perched at the edge. As you looked toward the kitchen from the living room you could see part of the kitchen behind the cut out in the wall, and to the right was the open dining room. The television was perched on the wall opposite the kitchen, so we could watch TV while making lunch in the kitchen. On the left side, the kitchen opened into the hallway toward the bedrooms, and on the right, it opened to the dining room.

It was a spacious kitchen. My parents had updated it before the divorce. In the middle of it stood an island counter, waist-high, on which I'd placed the bread, sandwich meat, and condiments mom and I were going to use to make sandwiches during the game. I hadn't seen mom for about an hour, but I expected her to appear any moment to help me.

I opened the refrigerator and started pulling some drinks out.

"Hey Randy," Mason called. I looked up and he was turned around in the sofa, looking at me. "Where's your mom?"

My friends never changed. They always wanted to see my hot mom. But I had changed. In the past, it would have embarrassed me. But not now. This time, I was fully aware of how hot my mom was, and I wanted them to see her in all her hotness. Well, maybe not all of her hotness. But some of it.

"She's around," I said. "She's going to help me with lunch, so she should be out soon."

"Excellent," he said, turning back to the game. The game started, and the visiting team kicked off.

Just then I heard the clack of heels on the floor. I looked up and mom stood in the doorway between the kitchen and hallway. Her hands rested on either side of the door frame.

She looked stunning. The first thing I noticed was the blue denim miniskirt. I hadn't seen her wear it in a long time, and it was even shorter than I had remembered it. It hit high on her thigh, and its brevity accentuated the length and exquisite tone of mom's legs, which seemed to go on forever until they ended at 4-inch strappy white and cork wedge heels. On top she wore a tight-fitting white tank top with a built-in shelf bra (I knew, because I'd checked it out earlier when preparing my list of what I wanted mom to wear). The bra provided enough support to keep mom from flopping around, but it was thin enough that I could see the faint outline of her nipples.

Mom had spent some time with her hair and face as well. Her hair lay in thick blond waves around her lovely face. She wore more makeup than normal for a Sunday afternoon, but not too much; it added a hint of extra glamour to her fresh-scrubbed, sporty beauty. She looked exactly as I'd wanted her to: adorable, and sexy, but not trashy. She could tease without being too obvious about it. That's what I wanted.

I pointed to the bottom of her skirt and mouthed the words, "Let me see."

She knew what I wanted. First, she looked to the side to see if anyone could see her. It was an unnecessary glance because my friends couldn't see mom from where they sat in the living room. She reached down slowly pulled the bottom hem of her skirt. I nodded to indicate she should keep pulling. She did, until the tiny, filmy, powder blue thong panties were fully exposed. They weren't fully see-through, but they were see-through enough that I could just make out mom's delicious slit through the fabric. Anyone with a good view up mom's skirt would see more than just panties, but not so much more that it would be obvious she wanted them to see it.

I nodded, and she pulled the skirt down. The look was perfect. We were ready to go.

I pointed to the drinks I'd put on a tray on the island.

"Mom," I asked, "Can you take these out to the living room?"

"Sure, Randy," she said with a knowing smirk. She picked up the tray and walked out the other end of the kitchen, through the dining room and into the living room, announcing her presence to my friends with the sound of her heels and a bouncy and flirty voice.

"Hi, boys!" she said. "Want some refreshments?"

All three of their heads swiveled around, the game instantly forgotten. From the kitchen cutout I could see their faces, and I could see mom from behind. Mom obviously made an impression, because none of them said anything for a few seconds, and Tucker's and Mason's mouths opened. Flies could have flown in and they wouldn't have noticed.

"Sure, Ms. Lund," Tucker said, at last, with a slight stammer. "Thanks a lot!"

"Now, Tucker," she said, "You know you can call me Inga. You're all adults now."

"O.K., uh, Inga," Tucker said, his eyes still wide and obviously sweeping over her body. Mom walked around the sofa to the coffee table, giving my friends an impressive view of her legs moving under the tiny skirt. She knelt with her knees bent and together to set the tray on the table, but it was impossible to prevent the skirt from riding up her thighs as she did so, and I could tell from the way my friends craned their heads around that they were trying to get as good a view as they could. Mom acted oblivious to their attention, but I knew that she knew exactly what they were doing.

I felt a twinge of guilt. I'd orchestrated putting my hot mom on display for my three horny, best friends. I thought about what I was doing. I shouldn't have done that, should I? But I had done it, and mom had gone along. I'd set things in motion, but it was mom's show now. She wouldn't have worn the miniskirt and tank top if she hadn't wanted to put on the show. It was too late for me to worry about the ethics of what I'd done. I just needed to sit back and enjoy the show. The twinge of guilt passed.

Mom moved the drinks from the tray to the table. My friends' focus on her hadn't waivered. Each of them ogled her in a different way. Mason, who was always eager to please, sat closest to her, and he was bent over, helping her unload the drinks, but I could tell he was trying to look up her skirt as she was crouched. Alex, the coolest of the three, sat farthest away, and he feigned watching the game while looking at mom out of his side vision. Tucker, never concerned about looking or acting appropriately, just sat slack-jawed and stared at her boobs.

After taking longer than necessary to set the drinks on the table, mom stood up as primly as she could in the little skirt, turned on her heels, and came back to the kitchen. From the kitchen I noticed their eyes tracking her round, skirt-covered butt.

Mom smirked at me as she rounded the corner from the dining room into the kitchen.

"Did you like that?" she asked me, quietly.

"Not as much as you did," I think.

"You're bad," she said, and she lightly cuffed my chest with her hand.

I took a break from the kitchen to watch the game in the living room for a while. Mom stayed in the kitchen, working on some sort of savory little turnovers she was going to serve as an appetizer before lunch. The game was close, but my mind was on mom and what she was going to do next.

She appeared again early in the second quarter. She carried a small tray with the turnovers and napkins. Alex, Mason, and Tucker heard her heels against the floor, and their heads swiveled in unison to watch her approach. As she entered the living room, a napkin fluttered off the tray, to the floor. Without hesitating, and with startling grace for someone perched on four-inch heels, mom crouched down to the floor, balanced the tray on one hand, and scooped up the napkin with the other.

She didn't hold the position long, but she held it long enough, and with her knees held far enough apart, that all of us got a good look at the power blue panties under her skirt. I hoped to catch a glimpse of her sex under the blue fabric, and I did, just barely. I wondered if my friends had. I turned from my mom to look at them, and I guessed that they had, from the looks of astonishment on their faces.

Mom stood up, set the turnovers on the table, and walked back to the kitchen. I could have sworn her ass swished as she did. My hot mom, I thought. Wow.

Since it was getting close to half time, I decided to get up and get to work on making lunch.

I walked into the kitchen to see my mom standing next to the island over a head of lettuce, looking lean and luscious. Our eyes met, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing I was: what next? Where would we go with this craziness? I didn't want to go too far, and she didn't either. I didn't want to do something that might get her in trouble with her job or with her friends or reputation, which was, as far as I knew, spotless. But I wanted to push her. I wanted, somehow and someway without pushing too far, to explore the limits of my mom's desire to show off her hotness.

I walked up to her and put my hand on her ass and squeezed it through the denim skirt. Both of us stood on the opposite side of the island from where my friends sat. They were looking away, toward the football game on the television, but if they'd turned around they would have seen us only from the waist up, with the rest of us hidden behind the counter cutout and the island. I could squeeze my mom's ass as much as I liked, and my friends wouldn't see it.

I felt resistance against my hand; mom was pushing her ass back against my fingers. I looked at her face and her eyes were closed.

I pulled her skirt up, over and above her butt. Her cheeks were bare and exposed to me and I ran my hand across her bare skin. The thong back of her panties covered almost nothing. What purpose do they serve? I wondered. On an impulse I hooked my fingers around them and pulled down. Mom didn't resist. She stood there with her eyes closed and let me draw her thong down her legs until it was bunched at her ankles on the floor. She opened them to look at the lacy garment at her feet. She kicked it to the side.

"You're being naughty," she whispered, so my friends couldn't hear.

"And you didn't stop me," I said right back. I squeezed the bare cheek of her ass again. I felt the pressure of her ass pushing back against my hand. No, she wasn't going to stop me.

"I suppose you're not going to let me put the panties back on?" Mom asked me.

"Nope," I said, reaching down, scooping them up, and stuffing them in my pocket. "It's commando for you."

"That's not going to be easy in this skirt," she said.

"Easy wouldn't be any fun," I replied. "You'll have to do your best. It looks like the guys need some more chips." I poured a bagful into a big orange bowl and pushed it across the island counter toward mom.

"Why don't you take this out there to them," I said. "Be careful!" I said, and I smirked at her.

Mom took the bowl from my hands, pivoted on her wedge heels, and walked out of the kitchen. Her ass swayed as she went. I looked through the wall cutout to watch her deliver the chips. The game was on and the sound on the TV was turned up high, so my friends didn't notice her at first, but all three of them noticed he as she got near them. She bent over at the waist to set the chips on the table, keeping her legs straight. The skirt rode up and up, and I wondered for a second if she'd expose herself to my friends, but the hem of the skirt stopped rising no more than half an inch before it exposed her lack of panties. Even so, I could tell my friends were held rapt by the sight of her. Tucker, especially, looked at mom with his mouth wide. Mom pretended not to notice. She unbent herself, stood up, pivoted again, and walked back slowly to the kitchen. My friends looked after her for a few seconds and then turned back to the game.

Mom didn't come back to the kitchen right away. She stopped next to the dining room table, in a spot where she knew I could see her from the kitchen and my friends could have seen her from the living room, if their attention hadn't been focused on the game. Mom gave me a quick, wicked smile. I couldn't believe what she did next.

A set of extra napkins lay on edge of the table, and mom swept her hand over them and pushed them off. They spilled on the floor. Mom put her finger to her mouth and looked at me with feigned innocence. Then she crouched down to pick up the napkins. She squatted, right over her heels, with her knees wider than necessary. The skirt rode up -- all the way up. I could see everything, clearly. And my friends in the living room could have, as well, if they hadn't been looking the other way. Tucker, I knew, would have given his left nut to see what mom was showing: her bare pussy, under the little denim skirt.

Mom took her time gathering the napkins on the floor. She held the squat with her legs open the whole time. I admired her balance and leg muscles. I also admired the sweetness of her sex exposed to my eye, between her legs, thin lips dangling barely but noticeably at the junction of her thighs.

Finally, the napkins collected in her hand, mom stood up, her gaze on me as she did so. She set the napkins back on the table and then walked toward me in the kitchen. For about thirty seconds, mom had held herself in a position that completely exposed herself to my friends. But they didn't know what they'd missed. Their attention remained on the game.

Mom approached me in the kitchen and arched her eyebrows, with a twisted smile lighting up her face. I didn't know what to say.

"I guess we better make lunch," she said.

I nodded, having nothing better to say just then. Distracted and horny, I pulled some greens and other vegetables out of the refrigerator to make a salad.

Even without turning around to look at mom, I felt her presence near me. I heard cabinet doors open and I knew mom was pulling out plates on which to put the salad. From head to toe my body felt the heat radiating from mom's body near mine.

I set the vegetables for the salad on the island at the same time mom set the plates on it. I turned and looked at her, up and down. The skirt was short, and her legs looked supple and enticing under it. On an impulse, I put my hands on her waist, and I picked her up.

I had never picked up mom before like that. Maybe I was stronger than I had expected, or maybe mom was lighter than I had guessed, but she was easy to lift, and I set her on the counter to the side of the opening in the wall to the living room. Where she sat, mom was just out of sight of my friends in the living room focused on and yelling about the football game.

She didn't say anything. Her legs, lean and exposed in the little denim skirt, dangled from the counter. I put a hand on each warm, firm thigh. Mom gazed steadily at me as my hands moved up the dry but silky skin of her legs. As my hands moved up they pushed against the hem of the denim skirt. Soon the skirt was pushed back far enough to reveal mom's bare pussy.

A cheer came from the living room. My friends had called out in unison, presumably because our team had scored. I heard the voices of announcers coming from the television, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I couldn't pay attention to them. I could pay attention only to my mom on the counter, the little skirt bunched up around her hips and her sex on display. And her eyes. They kept staring at me. I tried reading them. I wanted to know what she was thinking. Was she nervous? Was she horny? Was she doing this to please me, or to please herself? I didn't know.

What I knew was what I could see, and I could see the emerald pools of mom's wide-open eyes staring at me, barely blinking, while her splayed legs showed off her most intimate body parts under the pushed-up skirt. Her knees went up, giving me an even better view.

My friends had no idea what was going on. They sat not more than 20 feet away, yelling at the TV screen and the game, but if they'd known what my mom was doing it was would have driven them crazy. Especially Tucker. But he had no idea.

I put my hands between mom's legs, fingers under her thighs, and I pressed up. She lifted her legs without resistance, until her knees were up high and her heels were on the edge of the counter. Then I pushed her legs farther apart. I had to be careful, because if I pushed her right knee to far to the side it might become visible to my friends, were they to turn their attention away from the TV and toward the kitchen.

Mom passively took the direction of my hands and let me spread her wide. She smiled at me.

"You like what you see?" she asked in a whisper so as not to be heard over the din of the football game.

I squeezed mom's thighs gently and savored the touch of her silky skin, and the view of her legs stretched taut to either side of her. Mom leaned back against the cupboard over the counter, and she scooted her butt forward a few inches. She wanted to show her pussy as much as I wanted to see it. And I could see it all; the delicate lips parted and revealed a glimpse of mom's delicious pink wetness. The cute star of her asshole was in view directly beneath it. We were both excited, and it was getting more difficult to focus on the fact that three of my friends sat nearby, waiting for lunch and oblivious to my hot mom's lewd display.

They would have to wait for a few more minutes. I had an idea. On the counter I had put vegetables to make a salad. A thick carrot, already washed and peeled, lay next to a head of green lettuce. I picked it up and held it in front of mom's face and smiled as lewdly as I could at her. Her eyes went wide, and her head inclined to the side as though she were about to shake her head. But I nodded at her, and it seemed to stop her. She waited for me.

Holding the carrot at the thick end, I touched its thin tip lightly against the fold of skin just over mom's clitoris. Mom's body jerked slightly at the touch, and the barest gasp of air escaped her mouth. I sensed her tension -- I could feel it, and it was exquisite. All my senses were on fire.

I used the tip of the carrot to push back the fold of her skin until the salmon nub of her clit was fully exposed. It was damp, and it glistened in the bright kitchen light. I moved the carrot in small circles around the perimeter of her clit. Mom gasped again, a little louder this time, and her breasts arched toward me.

The tip of the carrot moved down, between her lips, and I maneuvered it to push a lip to the side. I'd seen my mom's pussy a lot in the previous few weeks, but never so closely and in such good light. I tickled the inside edge of her labia with the carrot. I looked up at mom's face, and she was looking down, too, at her pussy, as it gave way to my inspection. I'd seen pussies before, and like a lot of guys I never got tired of seeing more. But I'd never been held in such rapt fascination with the loveliness of a woman's raw, exposed sex as I was at that moment. It was beautiful. But I didn't want just to look at it.

I moved the carrot down and between her lips. Then I pushed it in, slowly and gently.

I wondered if I was breaking mom's rule about not touching her down there. Technically, I wasn't. The carrot was touching her, not me. I wondered if it would seem that way to mom. She didn't say anything. She kept her head down and watched as more of the thick orange carrot disappeared inside her. I took her silence to mean I wasn't breaking her rule.

The thick part of the carrot entered her, and I watched with fascination as its girth stretched her entrance further and as her pussy's wet, thin lips clutched the carrot's circumference. I gave the carrot a short, sharp push forward. Mom gasped again, and her eyes turned up to the ceiling. It was a good thing the TV volume was set so high, or my friends would have heard her.

My friends let out a cheer from the living room.

"Randy," Alex called. "You're missing a great game. You gotta get out here."

"Just a minute," I called. "We're getting the salad ready."

With that, I pulled the carrot out of mom, slowly. Its surfaced was slicked with the wet juices of her cunt, and her lips gripped it as though they didn't want to let it go.

A faint "plop" sounded when I pulled it out entirely, and mom's inner labia collapsed and folded together again. Mom's mouth was open. She was panting and looking at me with intense lust.

I wobbled the carrot in front of her face, and then I put the tip in my mouth. I sucked mom's wetness off the first two inches of it, and then I bit off the tip.

"What's up, mom?" I asked.

"Naughty boy," she whispered.

"I get it from my you," I replied.

Mom didn't have anything to say to that. I left her and walked to the cutting board. I picked up the big chopping knife and cut the rest of the carrot into thin slices. I scooped them up and put them in the salad bowl. I looked back at mom's face and she looked at me, incredulous.

"Are you serious?" she asked me.

"Yep," I said. I was. My friends had been lusting after my mom for years. They were going to get a taste of her in their salad, even if they wouldn't know it.

Mom put her legs down and hopped off the counter as I cut up the other vegetables and the lettuce and put them in the salad bowl. Mom whisked a quick salad dressing and poured it into the bowl.

"Why don't you take it to them while I make the sandwiches," I said.

I watched my mom through the space in the wall, bending and setting the salad bowl and little plates and knives on the table between my friends. They turned and stared at her, but their view wasn't as good as mine, because I could see the back of mom's lean legs under the skirt, riding up high on her thighs, as she bent over. And I knew that under that skirt she didn't wear any underwear. And, unlike my friends, I knew my mom had just been fucked by a carrot.

I wondered if she'd done anything like that before. My mom was full of surprises. I guessed she'd done a lot of things I didn't know about.

I made sandwiches in the kitchen for my friends. They probably wondered why I'd been in the kitchen so long, and I needed to do something to explain my absence from the living room. Mom came back to the kitchen and helped me finish the job.

"Hey Randy, great salad!" I heard Tucker call.

Before I could say anything, I heard Mason respond.

"Since when did you like salad, dude?" he asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you eat anything you couldn't get from a drive-through window at KFC or Taco Bell."

"Whatever," Tucker said. "But this is a good salad. It's got a good, uh, dressing."

"Thanks, Tucker," I called out from the kitchen. "Chef's secret recipe. I'm glad you like it."

If only he knew he was tasting my mom, the woman he'd lusted after for so many years.

I went back to work on the rest of lunch. When mom and I finished the sandwiches, I loaded them on a tray and took it out to the living room, where my friends were shouting about the game. The third quarter already was well underway, and the game was tied.

I wondered what mom was up to, and I wanted to get back to her, but my sense of duty to my friends made me sit and watch the game with them for a while. I ate half a sandwich. I joined them in cheering every completed pass our team made and booing the referee's penalty calls in favor of the other team.

But while I watched the game and cheered with my friends, I kept thinking about my mom. She hadn't appeared in the living room since I'd left the kitchen.

After a while I decided to get up and return to the kitchen. I swept up the tray and empty plates. As I walked back to the kitchen I realized how hungry I was -- for mom. I wanted her. I craved the sight and touch of her.

When I got to the kitchen, she was there, her back turned to me, cleaning one of the kitchen counters with a sponge. She was bent over only a little, but it was enough to show off a lot of the back of her thighs. I felt the familiar pressure in my pants as my excitement grew.

I put the empty tray and plates on the kitchen island and kept walking toward mom. She didn't turn to me; she seemed intent on what she was doing. I was aware of my chest rising and falling with sharp, short breaths; my body shivered with an overwhelming sense of need and purpose. I'd forgotten everything else; only the sight of my mom in front of me mattered.

I came up behind her and put my hands on the part of the denim skirt over her hips. She twirled around in my hips at once, her hands still down by her side. She looked at me with her mouth half open and her eyes fixed on mine. She didn't say anything.

Without even thinking about what I was doing I reached for the button at the front of her little skirt, and I unbuttoned it. With one hand I grabbed the zipper and pulled it down, and with the other hand I yanked at the skirt. It dropped below her hips before mom had a chance to respond. When she did she tried half-heartedly to stop me, putting her hands on mine, but not really trying to stop them from their task. I resisted her effort, and my hands kept pushing her skirt down.

In a few seconds her denim skirt was at her ankles, and mom stood in the kitchen naked at the waist.

I didn't stop there. As soon as the skirt hit the floor my hands went to the bottom of her camisole, and they pulled it up fast. Mom's hands didn't seem to know what to do. They didn't stop me. Instead, her arms and hands moved up to accommodate the sweep of the camisole over her shoulders and head. I pulled the little top up and off her. And then mom was completely naked.

She stood just a few feet out of view from my friends in the living room. They couldn't see her from where they watched the game, but if one of them had walked to the space in the kitchen wall they would have seen everything.

I threw the camisole to the floor and took mom in my arms. One hand went to her ass and the other went to the back of her neck. My mouth was on hers in an instant, my tongue pushing forward to meet hers. Our tongues wrestled with one another as I kneaded her firm, sweet ass with my hand.

And then I pulled back. As much as I wanted mom's body against mine, I wanted something else even more.

"Mom, get on the floor," I said, quietly enough that my friends in the living room wouldn't hear.

Mom's response skipped a beat, like she didn't quite know what I'd asked her to do, but then she responded, and complied. Her open, steady eyes on mine and her slight smile told me she knew what I wanted. We didn't have to say it to one another. She knew what I wanted, and she wanted it too.

Mom's knees bent, and her hands went forward, and then she was on the floor on all fours. She made eye contact with me and I looked back at her and gestured at her with my chin. Mom turned around, until her ass was turned toward me. She pressed her chest against the floor and pushed her ass up toward me.

Nothing in the universe could be more inviting than my mom's upturned ass and the sight of her beautiful pussy, lips parted slightly, on view to my hungry eyes. But there she was, mashing her breasts against the wood strip floor, parting her legs and turning her back side to me so I could see everything.

My eyes scanned the kitchen island counter next to me. I saw what I needed and grabbed it. I spit on it, and then I bent down.

I pushed a thick, green cucumber into mom's exposed pussy. It was bulkier and thicker than the carrot I'd tried earlier, so it didn't go in as quickly or as easily. But go in it did. My spit helped, but the chief lubricant was from mom. She was sopping wet down there; I could feel it from the lack of resistance as I pushed the cucumber into her.

When it was about half-way in I stopped pushing. I wanted to look at what I'd done. The cucumber was thick -- much thicker than the carrot I'd put in her earlier. The rim of her pussy was stretched tight and thin around it. Mom's body moved up and down with her quick, excited breaths. She pressed her chest down low against the floor and held her ass high, in the air. The cucumber was lodged in tightly, and it wasn't going anywhere.

Mom raised her head off the floor, craned her neck, and looked back at me. I got down on the floor, on my hands and knees, and I scooted more closely to her. I bent my face down to hers and kissed her on the lips. Our tongues touched.

I pulled back to listen. The game was still going on and my friends were still hollering. I didn't want one of them to appear suddenly in the kitchen, but there didn't seem to be any fear of that now. They were immersed in the game.

Mom sat up, partly. With one hand she grabbed the cucumber and held it inside her. She pressed her other hand against my chest, pressing me to step backward. Mom guided me back behind the kitchen island. She scooted forward, on her knees, as I stepped back, until both of us were fully behind the kitchen island opposite my friends in the living room. From their position, they could see the top half of me, but they couldn't see my mom at all. I wasn't sure what mom had in mind.

I figured it out quickly. Mom took her hands away from me and leaned back and put her hands slightly behind her. Then she pushed down until the tip of the cucumber touched the floor. She pushed down further, and more of it disappeared inside her. Mom's back arched and her breasts pushed forward, nipples hard and erect. Then she began rocking up and down on the cucumber. I was spellbound by the sight of the thick green fruit vanishing inside her, a little more with each downward thrust.

My cock, already half-erect, instantly grew to full length and stretched uncomfortably in my pants. I put my hand on my crotch to adjust it so it would be more comfortable. It wasn't enough. There just wasn't enough room inside my tight pants for my throbbing cock.

I needed release and relief, so I unzipped my pants and took it out. I looked out to the living room. My friends' attention still was on the game, but even if they had looked my way they wouldn't have seen anything because it was below the level of the kitchen island counter. But they might have noticed my heavy breathing and semi-pained expression, and they might have wondered why I was standing sideways behind the kitchen island when I could have been in the living room watching the game. I had to be careful.

Mom, though, had other ideas. She reached out her hand and grabbed my cock, and her fingers curled around the thick shaft behind the purplish head. The feel of her fingers was pure heaven.

Oh my God, I thought, mom's going to give me a hand job in the kitchen, with my friends in the other room. It was so risky. But it was worth it. The thought of her jerking me to orgasm, and of coming in her face, right here, right now, was exciting beyond words and worth any risk.

But mom wasn't content to give me a hand job. That became clear as she smiled and moved even closer to me, until her face was no more than two inches from my engorged cock head. I looked at it and saw a glistening drop of precum at the tip. Mom looked and saw it too. Then she looked deeply into my eyes and opened her mouth.

My God, was she going to . . .

She was. She did. Mom held her tongue out until it just barely touched the tip of my cock, and with just a flick of her tongue she lapped up the precum. The drop disappeared in her mouth. Mom puckered her lips and kissed the hard, full bulb. Her lips opened, and she took it in. I watched, rapt, as the head slowly disappeared, and her mouth widened to accommodate it. Mom's eyes never left mine. In no time the head was gone, fully inside her mouth and against her swirling tongue, and her lips encompassed my thick shaft. I could see the outline of my cock head inside her mouth, against her cheek. Her right hand kneaded the base of my shaft, working in tandem with her mouth to maximize the sheer bliss I felt.

I knew, instantly, that it would take almost no time for me to blow my wad and come inside her mouth. I pushed my hips forward. I wanted it to happen.

But we were interrupted.

"Randy!" Tucker's voice ripped through my delicious reverie.

I clutched the side of the island counter to steady myself and looked up at the source of the voice. Tucker had stood up from the sofa and walked to the counter between the kitchen and living room. He held two empty beer bottles. Mom stopped bobbing on my cock and held still after lowering her body enough to ensure Tucker couldn't see her. Still, he probably wondered why I was standing at a semi-angle to the counter.

"What's up, Tucker?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steadier than my body, which felt like it was shaking with arousal and nervousness.

He raised the beer bottles.

"I'm out, bud," he said. "I need a refill. Want me to get it?"

"No!" I said, more excitedly than I should have. I couldn't exactly let Tucker come into the kitchen and see my naked mom on the kitchen floor with her mouth wrapped around my cock. Fortunately, I'd put more beers in a metal tub filled with ice on the island counter top. I fished a cold bottle out of the ice and without delaying tossed it to Tucker.

"Catch!" I said, without giving him much warning.

It was a dumb thing to do, because Tucker wasn't the most coordinated friend I had and easily could have dropped the bottle, maybe causing it to break or to spray out when he opened it. But he did catch it, just barely. He gave me a funny look.

"Everything all right?" he asked. "Don't you want to come and watch the game?"

"Sure," I said. "Just a minute."

I wanted to join my friends, but first I wanted to get the relief I needed by spraying my jism down mom's throat. I didn't dare look down at mom while Tucker was looking at me and talking to me, but from my side vision I could see her still looking up at me, and I felt her lips still wrapped tightly around my shaft.

"Where's your mom?" Tucker asked, looking around. I looked around, too. Shit. Mom's skirt lay on the kitchen floor, and I couldn't tell whether Tucker, from his position, might be able to see it. But he didn't seem to. I would have seen his eyes widen if he had, and they didn't change.

"She had to take care of something," I said. "She should be done with it in just a minute, and then she'll be back."

"Okey dokey," Tucker said. "Come join us. It's a good game. The team's up by 3 and there are only 10 minutes left."

He turned away and joined Mason and Alex in front of the TV.

Finally, I looked back at mom and nodded to encourage her to keep going. My balls weren't blue, they were purple, and I needed relief more than I could ever remember having needed it.

But mom shook her head faintly. Her lips parted and moved off my cock, which still was rock hard.

"We'll do this later," she said. "Join your friends."

With that, mom rocked back on her back and heels, and she lifted her ass off the ground. She pulled the thick green cucumber out of herself, thin lips trailing along the fruit's circumference. As it popped out of her, a small, fine spray of clear fluid followed it and left a tiny puddle on the floor. The cucumber's absence left mom gaping wide and pink between her outstretched legs. Mom scooted backward in that position a few feet, turned around, gathered her skirt and top, and crawled on all fours out the kitchen doorway to the hallway and disappeared. I stared at the empty doorway, my feelings a mixture of frustration, arousal, and disbelief.

Not four seconds after mom disappeared I heard Alex's voice behind me.

"Hey, man," he said. "Have an extra beer for me?"

"Su . . . sure," I said, the words coming slowly. It was hard to concentrate. I pulled a beer out of the tub and gave it to him.

Alex looked down at the floor and gestured with the beer. He was looking at the remnants of mom's squirt on the shiny wood.

"Looks like you spilled something," Alex said. "Better get that up or you'll slip."

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I'll, uh, take care of that. I'll be right there."

Alex left me. I took a towel and soaked up mom's juices from the floor. Before tossing the towel to the counter I put it to my noise and inhaled. I didn't smell much -- a fresh scent with just a trace of mom's aroma.

With mom gone and my chores done I was ready, finally, to rejoin my friends in the living room. I walked in with a beer of my own and fell into a large chair.

I watched the rest of the game in the living room with my friends. A few minutes before the game ended my mom reappeared, fully dressed again, picking up empty beer bottles and pouring some more chips into the bowl on the coffee table.

As she started to walk back to the kitchen I almost rose to follow her. I was like a dog in heat at the sight of her, barely in control of what I was doing. But mom game me a look and put her hand out, obviously signaling she wanted me to stay and watch the game with my friends. So, I resisted my urges and stayed with them.

It was a great game. The other team got the ball back with three minutes left and marched down the field, using all but one of their time outs. It didn't look good. But with two seconds left on the clock the kicker shanked a 30-yard field goal off the left upright. Time expired, and our team won. We all cheered.

I liked my friends, but I liked my mom's hot, naked body more, and I needed it very, very badly. So, with the game over I dropped what hints I could, some subtle and some not so subtle, to suggest it was time for them to go. My friends weren't always the most responsive group to hints, but they seemed to get the picture. They helped me take the empty beers and leftover chips to the kitchen, and then we all walked to the entry way.

"Thanks for the game party, Randy," Mason said. "Thanks to your mom, too. Where is she?"

He looked around, and Alex and Tucker did too. They looked chagrined at the prospect of leaving without seeing her one more time. But mom was nowhere to be seen.

"Not sure where she is," I said. "She probably has some things to do. But I'll tell her you said thanks and good bye."

They all looked around one more time, then said their farewells, and walked out the front door. I closed the door behind them. Football and my friends were behind me. Time with mom was ahead. I needed it like nothing I'd ever needed before.

Before I'd walked three feet from the door I heard the clacking of mom's wedge heels on the floor, and a second after that I saw her running around the corner from the hallway, toward me. She was naked again. She kept running, and when she got close she jumped onto me. In an instant her legs were wrapped tightly around my hips and her hands were at the back of my neck.

She pressed her mouth against mine. I think I saw stars, or something that could only be described as stars, glowing and hot against a sky of desire and need. I put my hands under mom's ass to hold her up and steady her, and I grabbed it hard, pressing my fingers in and pulling her against me. I repositioned her slightly so the bare gap between her legs was pressed tightly against my pants-covered crotch. I stood like that for what seemed like minutes, mom in my arms, kissing me with crazy urgency. Her tongue was a ravenous animal against mine. I spread her ass cheeks wide with my hands, and in a mirror on the opposite entryway wall I could see her puckered, pretty anus peeking out from the cleft of her bottom.

I want to see it all, feel it all, and fuck it all, I thought. I intended to do that, right then and there.

Before I could do anything, though, the doorbell rang, and I think I jumped a foot off the ground, even with my mom in my arms. Mom jumped in my arms, too. We both looked at the door, and before we could react we heard the knob turning. Somebody was coming in! Mom jumped down from my arms. As the door began to open she moved to the side of it rather than backward, where she would have been seen, and as the door swung wide she hid behind it.

It was Tucker.

I immediately moved to the door to block him from coming in and to keep him from seeing my naked mom, who was shielded from his sight by only a slender panel of wood.

"Tucker, what's up?" I tried not to sound annoyed, but I was -- at his interrupting me and at his entering without permission.

"Hey, Randy, sorry, but I left my sunglasses here. They should be in the living room. I can get them."

He started to push past me, but I stopped him with a light hand on the chest.

"Don't bother," I said. "You stay right here. I'll get them."

I stared at him to confirm he would stay, and he seemed to accept my instruction. I backed away from the door, trying very hard not to glance at my naked mom right behind the door. I jogged to the living room, and, sure enough, Tucker's sunglasses were on the arm of the sofa on which he'd been sitting. I grabbed them and ran back to the front door.

Fortunately, Tucker hadn't moved, and he obviously hadn't seen or become aware of my mom, who stood bug-eyed and still behind the door and looked like she was holding her breath.

I handed the glasses to Tucker.

"Thanks, Randy. Sorry to barge in."

He looked around one more time.

"Sorry I couldn't say goodbye to your mom. Tell her thanks for the food."

"I will. See you, Tucker."

Tucker left, finally, and I closed the door behind him, again. I locked it this time. Then I looked at my mom. She exhaled loudly. We both laughed.

"I'm still shaking," mom said. "I've spent the whole day almost getting caught."

"You did. But mom, I think you kind of liked it."

"Yeah, I guess so." Mom's breathing calmed down and she looked intently at me. "You're getting to know me too well. A son shouldn't know some things about his mom."

"I want to get to know you a lot better, mom. A lot better."

Mom paused, and almost said something, but didn't. Instead she strode toward me and reached for my waist. I felt my shirt coming up and I raised my arms and mom swept it off me. Here eyes were wide and intent with hunger . . . for me. She put her hands up and I felt her fingernails dig into the muscles of my chest. She pressed them in and ran them down, over my nipples and onto my abdomen -- not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to hurt. But I wasn't about to stop her.

Her hands drew together at the waistband of my pants and she unbuttoned and unzipped them and yanked them, together with the boxer briefs I was wearing underneath, down hard over my hips and thighs, until all my clothes were piled on the floor and I stood in the entryway as naked as my mom was. She pushed down on my shoulders and I followed the pressure until I knelt on the ground, knees against hard, cold tile. Mom pushed on my chest then, and I lay back until my body was stretched out on the floor. My cock stood straight up, fully erect, from my supine figure, and with no further delay mom took it and descended on it like an animal.

It went straight up and inside her descending mouth, all the way, until her lips ground against my pubic hair. I sat up on my elbows enough to see what mom was doing, and I loved the sight of it. Mom's face, hair all askew and flying in every direction, bobbed up and down over my hardness, her lips tight and wet against me.

I'd had blow jobs before, but never one this good. Mom didn't just want to please me, she wanted to please herself -- wanted to take and devour her son's hard cock, the visible proof of his desire and lust for her. I couldn't tell exactly tell how mom was doing it -- with her tongue, with her cheeks, with whatever -- but she closed her mouth around the length of my cock so well that it felt as good as fucking any pussy I'd ever had. Up and down, on and on it went. Mom wouldn't stop.

I didn't want it to stop, either. She'd transported me to a place I'd never been, and I didn't want to leave. I couldn't wait to feel the discharge of my impending orgasm into her mouth and to know every drop of it was in mom's belly.

But I wanted something else, too, even more than a blow job, however it was. I wanted to feel myself inside my mom, between her legs, where I knew I was meant to be.

Between the steady up and down thrusts of mom's head and my irregular gasping it was hard to get the words out, but at least I managed.

"Mom, I love this. But I need you. I need to fuck you. Let's do it. Now. Mom, let me fuck you."

Mom heard me and looked up at me, her face framed by her disheveled hair. One hand kept stroking me.

"I know you want it, Randy. I want it to. I want you to fuck me. But not yet. Not just yet. Wait a little longer. I'll give you something else, though."

Mom's mouth plunged back on my cock, but the rest of her body rotated around my cock until she raised a leg and straddled me, her ass now over my face and her pussy, now gaping and visibly wet, directly over me. The pink open gash hovered over me for perhaps ten seconds, and then it came down. Mom pressed her eager pussy against my mouth.

Instinctively I put my tongue forward and it entered her, past her parted lips and into her depths. And then, wonder of wonders, I tasted the inside of my mom. I pushed my tongue in as far as it could go. I breathed deeply and savored her fresh womanly scent. My lips danced with hers -- sucking on them, spreading them. I took her flesh between my teeth and nibbled gently on it.

All the while mom devoured my cock in a steady but frenzied rhythm. I felt the familiar swell inside me, the wave of orgasm coming on. I tried to push back against it. I wasn't ready to come, but it was hard to suppress it. On each upstroke I felt my hips and my entire body lift with her. I was dimly aware of the discomfort of the cold floor underneath me. I knew a comfortable bed was nearby. But there was no way either one of us was going to move, not until we were done. My cock needed her mouth and her cunt needed mine.

Mom's cunt. I'd seen it for the first time, several weeks earlier, on the sofa. I'd seen it many times in the weeks since then. I'd fantasized and dreamed about it, and I'd even sprayed my cum on the outside of it. I'd watched my juices dribble down in the shower between her lips. Now, at last, my mouth was on her, tickling her, tasting her, fucking her furiously with my tongue.

I wanted to make mom come. I pulled my tongue from her depths and went to work on her clit. I swirled, I tickled, I mashed. I flicked the tip of my tongue right over her exposed nub, gently at first but then faster, increasing the pressure by the minute. Mom showed her approval by pressing down on me. I heard a moan escape her mouth, still full of my cock.

The sensation of being blown by my mom was so exquisite that it would have been easy to focus only on that and to stop concentrating on my ministrations to her own sex. But I was determined to be a good son and a good lover and to make her come first.

I grabbed her ass cheeks hard as my tongue kept massaging her pert clit. I felt a shudder go through mom's body, and I shuddered and moaned in response. I could tell she was getting near. I kept up a fast but steady rhythm on her, never relenting and never pausing. I had no sense of time. It might have been five minutes since we had started. It might have been twenty. Mom and I were in a world of our own, a world forged by our mutual white-hot lust. Nothing else mattered in that world -- the passage of time, the coldness of the hard floor, the possibility of being caught. All that mattered to me was the taste and scent and feel of mom's wet cunt, and the consuming need to bring her off.

Her body shuddered again, and she let out another moan from her cock-filled mouth, this moan higher-pitched than the last. I felt her body losing control. Her mouth's grip on my cock loosened. Then mom started moaning more audibly, almost squealing: "Unh, unh, unh."

With no further warning, mom shrieked and her pussy spasmed away from my face. My tongue lost contact with her clit and I felt my chin and cheeks doused in warm wetness. I lapped up what I could with my tongue. Mom's body shook and shuddered over me, displaying the wet, pink gash of her sex to my still hungry eyes.

Mom gave her orgasm almost no time to subside before she went back to work on my cock. I felt strong, thin fingers clasp my balls, gently kneading them. The other hand pulsed against the base of my shaft. The rest of my cock was enveloped by mom's mouth.

I could concentrate fully on my mom's cock-sucking, now. She was good -- very good. The best I'd had. Her hands and mouth worked in tandem with expert skill. I briefly wondered how many cocks mom had sucked in her life. Had mom been a slut before she met dad? Had she fucked and sucked a lot of guys? It was curious, in a vague, far-off kind of way. I knew I'd find out more about my mom's past later. But it didn't matter whether she'd had a slutty past. All that mattered now was that she was my slut.

The swell returned, rising inside me and cresting on its way to my cock. Mom's mouth and hands sucked and milked me in a frenzy, drawing the wave out of me. My hips bucked uncontrollably, but the bucking didn't stop mom from her cock sucking. Her mouth and my sex were joined, and the sensation was the sweetest and purest I'd ever felt.

I came then, suddenly. I could have sworn I felt my cock bulge like a firehose as the cum passed through it. I felt the hot jet from my cock head. Mom felt it too, I could tell, because her lips clamped tightly on my shaft just behind the bulb while her hands kept milking me. There was a lot of cum. Mom half gagged as she gulped it down, but she didn't stop. She kept going, and I kept spewing cum into her mouth. I lost count of how many times she had to swallow to take it down. But at last, my cock stopped pulsing and mom stopped swallowing.

Mom finally pulled her mouth off my cock and gasped for air. I could see at once that despite her efforts she hadn't swallowed everything. Some cum still lay visibly pooled in her mouth and rivulets of it leaked out either side of her lips onto her chin. After she caught her breath she smiled at me, open-mouthed and spent, and I smiled back.

We sat like that for another minute or two, breathing heavily and staring at each other. She didn't take her hand off my cock the whole time.

Then, she did. Both of us fell back on our elbows, and then each of us half crawled, half slid across the entry floor, away from each other until each of us turned and lay our backs against the entry walls, opposite each other. We sat and looked at each other, gasping for breath and with limbs sweaty and askew. Neither of us said anything right away. We were like two prize fighters that had just battled each other to a draw, and neither of us could find the words to describe the trial we'd just gone through. The triumph of release gave way to a warm blissful buzz in my belly.

"I loved that mom. I love you. But when? When?"

A sly smile curled on her face in small, fitful steps. Her gaze never left mine for an instant.

"Soon, Randy, soon."

Mom bit the tip of her pinky finger.

"You have a birthday coming up in a few days, Randy."

I'd completely forgotten. Mom was right.

My birthday. I wouldn't forget again.

Damn..

198 My Mom is a Hot Mom Ch. 08

SimonDoom

In my dream, I stood in a field of spring-green grass.

I was naked. All around me, in a circle no closer to me than 30 feet or so, stood all the people I knew and ever had known -- my family, my friends, teachers, bosses, coworkers, everybody. They were looking at me, but I wasn't embarrassed.

I turned around, my eyes scanning the encircling crowd, until I saw her, on the inner edge of the circle, looking at me: my mom. She wore a pretty sun dress, yellow with bright red flowers. I walked to her.

"Randy, what are you doing?" she asked me. "Why are you naked?"

"Shhh, mom," I said, my finger to my lips. "It doesn't matter. Just come with me."

I took her hand and guided her back to the center of the circle. I smiled at her and she smiled back, with love and puzzlement in her face.

Then I reached forward, to the neck of her dress, and with no effort I pulled it off her body. Now mom, too, was naked. Motherhood and adulthood had left their marks on her body; even in a dream I could see she was twice my age. But she was youthful and fit and beautiful, too. She was more than just a mom to me; she was the hottest woman on earth. I wanted her as my lover, in every way.

She kept her hands at her sides. She didn't try to hide her nude body from anyone, but she asked, "Randy, what are you doing to me?"

"I'll show you, mom," I said. "I'll show you and everyone."

And with that I took her hand and I bent my knees and I pushed against the grass, and I lifted into the air, my mom lifting with me. We flew, toward the clouds, and all the people we knew craned their necks to look at us soaring into the sky above them, fading out of sight.

When we reached the first cloud, I lay back and I drew mom's body on and over mine. The time had come to fuck her, and I pushed her thighs apart with one hand while my cock pushed up to enter her. But I missed. And when I tried again I missed again. I kept trying, but I kept missing. And over the fury of my effort I heard mom's voice, low at first but gathering in volume.

"Wake up, Randy," her voice called.

But I didn't want to wake up. I wanted to fuck her. I kept trying, but every time I thrust forward my cock missed its target. I kept trying and I kept missing.

"Wake up, Randy," mom kept saying, her voice growing louder and clearer.

I thrust harder, determined, at last, that my cock would reach its goal. I gave one more mighty push, but my cock missed again, and it hit her hip and bent at an angle at which it wasn't meant to bend. Ouch.

And then I woke up.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the white cottage cheese ceiling above me. The second thing I saw, after looking around, was an unruly mane of blond hair over my hips. It was mom. She held my cock in her hand and her tongue was out and its tip was no more than an inch from the engorged head. Mom looked at me, eyes sparkly with lust and mischief.

"Happy birthday, sleepy head," she said. And then her mouth opened wide and she took me in. No delay, no ceremony.

Heaven, indeed, was no dream; it was a place on earth, here in my bed, with my mom's wet and red lips wrapped tightly over the length of my tumescent cock. Today I was 20 years old, and in all my years I had never felt anything so good. It was the best birthday present I'd ever had.

Mom sucked me deeply, but not too quickly and with not too much pressure. The result was that she kept me in a high pitch of excitement and arousal, but without bringing me close to imminent release. I was glad of that, because I didn't want mom to stop; I wanted to delight in the feeling of mom's mouth on me as long as I could. I closed my eyes and focused all my attention on the sound and sensation of mom's cock sucking. Her head bobbed up and down and her mouth sucked me in and let me out in slow, luxurious cycles for several minutes.

Suddenly, mom stopped. I opened my eyes and looked at her. Her mouth was perched over my cock head, but it was closed, and she was looking at me.

"This is just a breakfast appetizer," she said. "You're going to have to wait for the main meal at your birthday celebration this evening."

"Mom, you can't do that!" I cried. "I'm going to die of blue balls if I have to wait all day."

"You're not going to die, Randy. You might get a little, hmmm, needy. But you need to be good and wait. I have work and you have work and school. No taking care of business yourself while we're apart, either. I promise you the wait will be worth it." She gave me a naughty smile.

"Does that mean we're finally going to . . .."

She cut me off.

"No. I'm not going to tell you what your present is going to me. It's going to be a surprise. But you'll like it. Now take a shower and then we'll have breakfast. You have school soon and you need to get ready."

Mom was right. I'd slept in, and I had a class starting in less than an hour. Mom left the room and I walked to the bathroom, my cock still rock-hard and sticking out straight in front of me. Under the hot spray of the shower, I was tempted quickly to bring myself off, but I didn't, mindful of mom's words. I would have to put up with intense sexual frustration for the day. I hoped it would be ended when mom and I celebrated my birthday that evening.

15 minutes later I walked into the kitchen, dressed for work -- khakis and a company polo shirt -- but still in bare feet. Mom was just finishing pancakes and sausages, two of my favorite breakfast foods. Her back was to me and she wore the short white waffle-pattern robe she'd worn before. It hit very high on her thigh, exposing the delicious back of her long and lightly muscled legs.

Mom was playing music from her phone, which lay off to the side. It was Warrant's "Cherry Pie," an oldie from the 1980s. A hair band, I recalled mom telling me once. I remembered seeing the video on YouTube. It had a hot blonde writhing around the studio in skimpy outfits and red lipstick. I thought it was funny that my mom and I both shared a taste for ancient, loud rock music. Well, it was ancient to me. Maybe not as much to mom.

You can be my cherry pie, mom, I thought.

I walked up to mom and give her a kiss. She turned to me, and that's when I saw that her robe was untied. It opened for a moment, giving me a flash of a nipple and a brief glimpse of the little slit between her legs. She smiled, and we kissed quickly.

"Good morning and happy birthday, son," she said. "Breakfast will be right up."

I went to the kitchen table and mom followed a minute later carrying two plates and food. She sat down with her robe still untied and gaping open like it was no big deal. She crossed her legs, hiding what lay between them, but on top a breast lay fully exposed to my hungry eyes. It was hard to concentrate on breakfast.

"Mom," I said to her after taking a few large bites.

"Yes?" she replied.

"You're driving me crazy. I'm still hard from this morning and from watching you. You gotta help me out here."

"Randy," my mom said to me. "I know it's your birthday. But you're going to have to be patient a little longer. You'll get your present tonight. Trust me, it will be better if you wait. You don't have a lot longer."

I paused, and I looked her in the eye.

"Does this mean we're going to fuck, mom?" I asked her. I knew it was a weird thing to ask my mom. But I couldn't help it. I wanted her so badly that my need overrode all sense of propriety.

"Randy," mom said. "That's not appropriate. You shouldn't assume anything. You'll like your present. But I wouldn't be a good mom if I told you what it was going to be."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I think we both jumped a little. I know mom did, because the little robe parted and showed even more than a moment earlier, even if just for a moment. Mom quickly gathered her robe together to be decent, and she got up and walked to the door. I stood up but waited in the kitchen, grabbing a greasy sausage out of the skillet and munching it while standing up next to the kitchen island.

From the kitchen I heard the door open and then I heard a male voice conversing with my mom. It was my dad. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but I could tell that it was a tense conversation from the tone of their voices. After a minute of it the voices quieted, and the sound of footsteps grew louder.

Dad entered the kitchen, holding a gift bag. My birthday present, I was sure. He approached me, gave me a hug, and put the bag on the kitchen island next to me. Mom followed him.

"Happy Birthday, Randy!" he said. "How're you doing?"

"Great, dad," I said.

Dad wasn't one to linger over sentimental moments. He pulled away and walked around the kitchen, looking around him. Mom stood quietly next to me, watching him.

"You've done some nice things with the place, Inga," he said. "I like it." After taking his visual tour dad stood on the other side of the island from mom and me.

"So, Randy, open your present," dad said.

I pulled the wrapping tissue out of the bag, reached in, and pulled out the gift. It was a zoom lens, once that would fit my camera and that was better than the one I had. It was a nice gift, I had to admit; dad remembered the type of camera I owned, and he knew what kind of lens would work with it.

"Wow, dad, this is great!" I said with genuine enthusiasm.

I'm really going to like taking naked photos of mom with the camera lens you got me, dad, I thought to myself, but of course I didn't say it.

I looked at mom, next to me, and she looked at me, and I could tell she knew exactly what I was thinking. She smiled.

Dad asked me how school and work were going. We had a pleasant conversation. I could not help but notice how closely mom stood next to me. As dad and I talked I felt her hand touch mine, behind the island, out of dad's view. Her hand pulled my hand toward her body, until my fingers were brushing against the hem of her robe. I knew what mom wanted. I had to move my hand and arm carefully to avoid tipping dad off about what I was doing, so I shifted my body while standing there to distract his attention. While I did so my hand parted the front of mom's robe and went between her legs, which mom had parted cooperatively. My fingers found her sex and one of them dove into her. Mom was wet. I knew she would be.

Dad and I kept talking, while mom stood close to me and my finger wiggled inside her pussy. It must have looked odd to dad to see mom, in a very short white robe, and, obviously, nothing else, standing so close to his son, but he didn't say anything about it. I noticed dad's eyes frequently straying to mom's chest, however, where the robe had parted sufficiently to show some enticing cleavage. Dad may have left mom for a younger woman, but I knew he knew she was beautiful, and her beauty still had a hold on him.

She's mine now, dad, I thought, as my finger enjoyed exploring mom's depths.

After we talked for a few minutes, dad said he had to go, and mom pulled away from me, my finger popping out of her quietly. Dad and I hugged and said goodbye. He and mom said goodbye as well, but with no hugging. He left.

"Were you arguing?" I said. "It sounded like you were arguing."

"Same old stuff," mom said. "He's never happy with the divorce settlement and wanted some more things back. I told him no. Nothing to worry about."

I paused, and said, "That was naughty, what we were doing back there. Right in front of dad."

"What dad doesn't know won't hurt him," mom said. "And it is your birthday."

With that comment, we went back to the kitchen and finished breakfast together. Mom kept her robe on, and nothing further happened between us, but the sash holding the robe together looked awfully loose, and the result was that her thighs and cleavage were giving me an enchanting show. I was hard throughout breakfast. I knew mom was teasing me.

"You have a long day, today, don't you, sweetie?" mom asked me.

"I do," I said, bummed. "School, then work. I'll get off at 6:30." I couldn't imagine how I was going to hold it together thinking about my mom and what might happen when we celebrated my birthday.

"Well, be home at 7 p.m. sharp," she said. "Can you do that?"

"I will be right on time, mom," I said. "Not one minute late."

"That's my boy," she said with a grin. Her hand went to the sash of her robe. She untied it, and it fell open and exposed her. I closed the distance between us and pulled the sides of her robe all the way back.

"Gosh, you're beautiful, mom," I said. It was true. Her nude body was a vision.

"I'm glad you like what you see," she said. "I like when you look at me."

"I want to look at you as much as possible," I said.

"Randy," mom said, uncertainty suddenly clouding her face, "Is this O.K.? What we're doing? I'm not going to mess you up with what we're doing, am I? I want this, but sometimes . . . I don't know. I feel guilty. I'm your mom. Moms and sons aren't supposed to do this sort of thing."

I tore my eyes away from her hot body and tried to read the meaning in her eyes, which were searching mine.

"It's O.K., mom," I said. "You're not going to mess me up. I want this. I want you. When we were standing in the kitchen across from dad and I had my finger in you, I felt like you were mine. I love that feeling. I love you."

"I love you, too, Randy," she said. "And I like that feeling too -- that feeling of being yours. I want that too."

She put her hands on my shoulders and squeezed them. Then we kissed. I felt just a flash of mom's tongue, and then she pulled away.

"You need to get to school, and I have work to do. Time to get moving."

She closed her robe.

"Keep your cell phone close by," she said. "I may check in with you, from time to time."

"OK," I said, puzzled. Mom obviously had something in mind, and I wondered what it was.

I wanted to spend more time with her to figure it out, but I had a class to go to and I had to hurry.

20 minutes later I was sitting at a desk in the middle of a large, half-full classroom listening to a professor drone on. It was hard to focus. I felt a buzz. It was my phone; the ringer was off out of respect for the class. I held it in front of me below the edge of the desk, so the professor wouldn't see me looking at it. I swiped it and the texting icon showed that a message had come in. I remembered what mom said so I opened it.

I almost jumped in my seat. The photo showed mom from the back, just inside the front door of the house, which was wide open. Mom's hands were on the floor behind and to the side of her, and her legs were spread wide, and she was completely naked. She'd set the phone on a timer, and she had positioned herself where a neighbor in just the right spot would have seen her nude and splayed open. It was shockingly daring, and incredibly erotic.

It was hard for me to believe I really was seeing my mom doing this -- my mom, the respectable, well-liked neighbor and highly regarded human resources manager at a prominent company. I couldn't believe she'd take a risk like that for me.

I became aware suddenly that there were people all around me and that curious eyes might see something I didn't want them to see. I held the phone very close to my chest for one last look and then put the phone away.

The image on the phone was burned into my brain, however, making it even more difficult to follow what the professor said. My body twitched, and I tapped my hands and feet for the remainder of the class. Finally, the class ended, and I escaped.

I thought another text might follow that one quickly, but it didn't. I had to endure two more equally boring classes in a high fever of sexual agitation. At lunch I met with a few friends. Alex and Tucker were among them. We sat at a functional but unlovely concrete bench outside a cafeteria. Alex and I ate sandwiches while Tucker wolfed down slices of oily pizza.

"Hey, Randy," Alex asked, between bites, "How's your mom? Sure was nice of her to help at the football game the other day."

"Yeah," said Tucker, not bothering to swallow the chunks of pizza in his mouth first, "She puts on a great show. The best."

I glowered at Tucker.

"Damn, Tucker," Alex replied, "you are such an asshole! You shouldn't say that to Randy."

The implication was that it was fine for him to say things like that to Alex and Mason when I wasn't there.

"Come on," said Tucker. "We all know Randy's got the hottest mom in the universe. Randy has to know it. And his mom knows it, too. That skirt she wore --"

"Tucker!" I said. I couldn't be that mad at him after all my own impure thoughts about her, but I had to feign disapproval at least. And to tell the truth, I did disapprove somewhat. I felt a twinge of jealousy. My mom is mine, I thought. Stay the fuck away from her, Tucker, I thought.

"All right, all right," Tucker said, raising a pizza-filled hand in surrender. "We'll talk about Mason's mom instead. She's not hot at all. Will that make you guys feel better?"

"Let's leave the moms out of it," said Alex.

"Amen to that," I said.

The phone pinged. I'd turned the volume on again.

I pulled it out and turned the face of it so neither Tucker nor Alex could see it. I was quite sure I knew what was coming and there was no way I was going to share it with them.

I swiped the phone screen and opened the photo from the text message.

It was mom, again, from the waist up. She was dressed in a cream-colored blouse. She appeared to be in a conference room at work, sitting at but facing away from a large table. A good chunk of the table was visible behind her, as were six co-workers sitting around it. I was puzzled. She looked very pretty, of course, but there was nothing sexy about the picture.

Then another ping came. I pulled up the photo from the new email.

Holy shit, I thought.

This photo was taken at the same place, presumably a moment later, mom still turned away from the table. But this photo only showed mom from the waist down. Her knees, parted, were on the sides of the photo, and smack dab in the middle of the photo, framed by her thighs and strikingly short skirt, was her pussy, uncovered by panties. On the fringes of the photo I could make out the legs of other people sitting at the table around her.

I couldn't believe the risks mom was taking. I had no idea how she could pull it off. However she did it, it had its effect. I was amazed and aroused.

"New girlfriend sexting you?" Tucker asked.

I looked away from the phone to my friends, and I realized my mouth was hanging open.

"No, no," I stammered. "It's . . . it's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing," Tucker said. "But whatever. You don't have a new girlfriend, do you? You'd tell us, wouldn't you?"

"No, I don't," I said, "and yes, I would. No girlfriend."

I snuck another glance at the photo and put my phone away. It was going to get tricky to conceal my relationship with mom if she kept doing shit like this.

We finished lunch and got up to leave for our next classes. Alex and Tucker wished me happy birthday before we parted.

Mom didn't send any new photos while I sat through my last class of the day, horny and distracted. When class was over I got in my car and drove straight to work.

The store was full of eager customers, who kept me busy and focused away from thoughts of my hot, exhibitionist mom. I had to keep my phone in my pocket. It was a violation of company policy to spend personal time on your phone during work hours.

An hour into my shift, I was talking to a couple about television options when I felt the familiar buzz in my pocket. I wanted to pull the phone out and look at the message, but I had to tend to my customers first. Time dragged as they asked me question after question and vacillated about which TV to choose. Finally, they made their decision. They bought the TV and left. I'd made another customer happy.

I took a bathroom break, almost desperate to see the photo mom had sent me. I threaded my way through aisles of electronics to get to the other side of the store. Once I was in the bathroom I shut myself in a stall. I pulled out the phone and looked at the photo.

I thought by now I couldn't be surprised, but the new photo didn't just surprise me, it staggered me.

The photo showed mom in her private office on the fourth floor, on top of her desk. She was on her knees, with her fingertips pressed against the desk to the side of her, and her chest pushed out. She stared into the phone camera. She was completely naked. Even more amazing was the suction cup dildo fastened to the desk under her and pushed two thirds of the way up inside her. Behind her I saw part of the door to her office. It was closed. Thank goodness for that.

I knew mom had some privacy in her office, but I didn't know if there was a lock on the door or how often people stopped by. For her to have taken off all her clothes, set up the phone camera, and posed for the photo, would have been time consuming and incredibly risky.

I had to respond to this one. I sent a text message back: :o

It was all I could think to write.

My head was swimming and my cock was harder than ever. It was nearly impossible to stop thinking about mom. But, unfortunately, I had to get back to work, for a while longer.

The hours crawled by, and I checked the time with increasing frequency and urgency. At last, my shift ended. I bolted out of the store, my feet unsteady and out of control in my need to get home.

The sun had set and the sky to the west was a mash of rose and purple. I jumped into my car and sped home. My hands gripped the steering wheel with manic intensity. I was going home, to my mom, to my birthday celebration, and to . . . something. I didn't know what, for sure. But mom had said I would like it.

Interminable minutes later I pulled my car into the driveway. I vaulted out of the car and over the walkway to the front door. The amber glow of the porchlight illuminated a note tacked to the door. The word "Randy" appeared on it in large flowing letters. I opened it and read the short message.

"Come inside, the door is open. Put all your things down in the entryway inside the door, walk to the living room, and sit down in the wooden chair. And wait."

I pulled the door open, my breath nearly choked off with anticipation.

Inside the house, the lights were off. But candles burned everywhere, illuminating the house with a low, flickering glow. Following mom's instructions, I put by backpack down, and I took my phone and wallet and keys and put them on top of the backpack. Mom was nowhere to be seen. The house was perfectly quiet. A big hand-painted paper sign said "Happy Birthday Randy" in neat letters against the entry way wall.

Not knowing where mom was or what else to do, I followed her instructions and walked into the living room. It also was lit up by candles everywhere, but beyond the reach of candlelight it was dark. Chairs and tables had been pushed to the side to clear a large space on the wood floor in the middle of the room. And at one side sat a heavy armless wooden chair, facing into the room.

This is strange, I thought. But I stuck to mom's script and I sat in the chair. I scanned the room and perked up my ears for any sign of mom. I heard nothing for a full minute.

The heavy strum of power chords from an electric guitar suddenly filled the room, and I jumped in the chair seat. The sound enveloped me. It came from several speakers that mom must have set around the room. I hadn't noticed them before in the gloom, but I noticed them now. I recognized the song, too: "Mother", by Danzig. I smiled to myself. Mom had a sense of humor.

And then I saw her. Gliding into the room seemingly out of nowhere, stepping from a dark room corner into the middle of the floor, in front of me. My jaw dropped open and my cock hardened.

You haven't lived until you've seen your mom not only dressed like a stripper but looking every bit the part.

Mom looked the part. Her feet were perched perilously high on clear, plastic platform stripper heels, spread on the floor shoulder-length apart. From the floor my eyes moved up the length of her endlessly long, supple legs to the place where her thighs disappeared under form-fitting, shiny baby-blue shorts, the side seam of which could not have been more than three inches. The front of the shorts veed down to a point that stopped no more than an inch above her sex, if that. Above and beyond the waistband of the tiny shorts mom's long, lightly muscled torso extended up to the bottom of a snug white crop top, which was emblazoned with the words "Hot" and "Mom" in black letters over each jutting breast. Mom had teased or permed her hair somehow so that it had puffed and swelled into a thick, voluptuous, dirty blond mane. Her hair cascaded wildly over her bare shoulders. She looked like a hot babe from a 1980s music video. But hotter.

She didn't look like a housewife play-acting as a stripper. She looked like a real stripper.

And she moved like one.

After the slow-building introduction, the song burst into a faster rhythm, hard and furious and intense. Mom's body moved with it. Her hips rocked to the song's beat, and her hands moved to its words. Mom's body rocked and swayed in a feral fugue with the song's deep bass line.

For the first time, I realized my mom could really dance. It wasn't an easy song to dance to, either, but mom did it. She stood no more than ten feet from me, hips swaying, and arms raised over her head. At first, she danced facing me, breasts pushed out and hips pushed back. Her loose, blond hair sprayed in every direction as she moved. In a single beat she turned around, and her ass was almost in my face, rocking and twirling to the music.

Mom dropped to the ground, up on her fingertips and on the toes of her high heels. She started twerking at me, her ass pumping up and slashing one way and then another in sync with the music. It was all I could do to make myself stay in the chair and not jump forward and grab her.

While still on the floor mom sat up, facing away from me, and quickly swept the crop top off her. She wore a tiny bra top underneath. She spun around so I could see it. The fabric was shiny and thin, and the hard points of mom's nipples showed under it. The bra was for show only; it provided no support, and as mom moved to the music her tits jiggled uncontrollably.

Mom's ass hit the floor and lifted off it, and in another quick sweep her little shorts came off, lifted up and along her legs and over the stripper heels until they flew away from her body in a steep arc. Now mom wore only a tiny G-string and bra.

As I watched her I marveled at her skill. She's done this before, I thought. I didn't know when or where, but I knew she'd done this before. There were things about my mom I didn't know, but she was giving me glimpses of her past. I wanted to know it all.

The song reached its fast furious crescendo, and its final chord barely finished before the next song started: another Danzig song -- "She Rides." The frenzy of the first song gave way to the slow, steady, seductive beat of the second.

Mom's body adjusted. It slowed and settled into a sexy and slinky rhythm. She stood and danced closer to me, keeping her eyes on mine. She drew near me. I could barely contain myself on the chair, but I did. It was mom's show and I didn't want to interrupt it. Just before her knees touched mine she turned around, and she put her thong-clad bottom in my lap. Mom gave me a lap dance, the best imaginable. Her pert ass touched down right where my cock lay under my pants, and she twirled it lightly over me. I pushed up, so she could feel my hardness.

I had reached such a lofty peak of excitement that I knew I'd come in my pants if mom kept going, but she seemed to know that, and before I came her ass lifted off me. She rocked and swayed forward until she was a few feet away, and then she turned around.

Hands went to a clasp between her breasts, and a second later her bra snapped open and the cups sprang free and my beautiful mom's exquisitely beautiful breasts popped out free and boundless and unfettered, offering themselves unimpeded to my hungry eyes. Mom leaned forward, bringing her full, swinging breasts closer to me. I reached a hand out to grab one, but she pulled away. She wagged a finger at me as though to say, "Bad boy."

I stared at mom in a state of rapture and disbelief. By now, I'd seen every inch of my mom's naked, hot body. I'd poked it and probed it and pierced it with my eyes, my hands, my tongue. Her nude body had no more mysteries to offer me. But still it was miraculous, a thing of wonder and transcendent beauty, and I wanted her with every pore and cell of my body. My eyes feasted on her as she danced for me, a tiny thong the only thing holding her body back from full nudity.

She wanted to be nude for me. I could see it in her eyes and in the movement of her body. She swayed and rocked her body and squatted to the ground. Her butt swung down, to the floor, and her elbows braced her body on the ground and her knees came together, and I saw hands hook themselves around the tiny stringy sides of her G-string panties and pull up. The little panties rose off her ass and up her long legs and met the plastic stripper heels. A panty string snagged briefly against one of the heels before it sprang free, and then the G-string went flying through the air before it fell and lay in a small tangled heap on the floor.

Now mom was completely naked. And she wanted me to see her.

She held her legs together and then scissored them across each other before flinging them wide and straight, stripper heels pointing to the walls on either side of the room. Her hand went between her legs and she opened herself to me, lips pulled back and the pink depths of her pussy open and on view.

I couldn't help it. My hand grabbed my crotch. My cock was hard and straining against my pants.

Mom lifted her ass off the ground, legs still wide, pussy still open and exposed and wet. The damp and pink flesh inside mom's opened lips sparkled in the candlelight.

Mom twirled around and backed up her knees and plastic heels, so her ass was no more than a few feet from me. She held her legs and hands wide on the floor. Her ass swung wild and exposed before my face. Her body traced sinuous curves to the music in that position for over a minute.

Mom stood up and turned around. She rocked and swayed and walked toward me. Her hand went down, pressing against my cock inside my pants. It was uncomfortably hard, and it bent to the side under my pants. Mom's hands went to work, busying themselves over my belt buckle and zipper. The belt buckle came loose and soon mom's hands were pulling my pants down. They slid over my thighs and knees and bunched around my ankles, along with my boxer briefs. I was naked at the waist and my cock stood straight up in a needy salute to my hot mom.

Slender fingers moved forward and took my cock, gripping it and massaging it. Mom masturbated me, but not too fast or too hard. She didn't want me to come yet. Her hips rose, and her legs spread, and she straddled me, and before I knew what was happening my cock, harder and straighter than it had ever been, lay pressed between the lips of mom's pussy.

My hard cock pointed up, its head against mom's clitoris. The thin petals of her pussy, spread to either side, framed my cock's girth, urgently welcoming it inside her. I wasn't inside her yet, but my shaft was pushed up against the wet and raw inside of her, slicked with her fluids, and I knew we were moments away.

Mom never stopped looking me in the eye. Her hand gripped me. It guided me. She rose, and her hand pointed me, and my cockhead took her direction and in a moment it was poised at her entrance, eager and open and hungry for me.

Mom paused with her hand wrapped around my cock and I shivered with the anticipation of what was about to happen.

Mom and I pushed forward at the same time, and I entered her. It took no more than a second. Mom was in my lap and she pushed down, and I pushed up and I filled her, once and forever.

I fucked my mom. She sat on me and looked at me, with my cock deep inside her.

There is no way to capture in a word or phrase or sentence all that I felt at that moment. The head of my penis lay deep inside my mother, near her cervix. The woman who'd given birth to me now sat on my lap, joined to me cock to cunt. Whatever might happen in the future, this moment could never be undone. My mom was my lover, for good or ill, for now and for all time.

All I could think of was my need and desire for more of her cunt. I grabbed her hips and lifted her and then pulled her back down on me. Mom threw her head back and gasped, so I knew she wanted it too. I took control of the pace, lifting her and pulling her back to me fast and hard, trying each time to push myself deeper insider her.

Mom and I fucked each other. I pushed into her and she pushed down on me. We rocked and pushed and pulled against each other. I thrust deeply insider her, as deeply as I could. Mom's delicious body gave way to me, accepting each fast, needy thrust and welcoming more.

My eyes closed for a few moments to relish the sensation of our fucking, but they opened not long after to enjoy the sight of her. Mom's nude body, lit only by the uneven flicker of candle light, rose and fell before me, on my lap. Her full breasts shook, and her nipples stood out as hard, dark points in the low light. My cock filled her with singular purpose. I needed to release inside her. I needed mom to feel the splash of my cum.

It didn't take much longer. Mom was close, too -- I could tell. Her breathing grew faster and shallower and she whimpered with each of my hard, fast thrusts into her.

"Randy," mom purred, her hands on my neck and in my hair.

"Mom," I growled, my hands hard against her hips to hold her against me.

Mom and I fucked that way -- I don't know how long. Time meant nothing. It bided its time while mom and I moved furiously against each other.

And then, suddenly, I felt her entire body spasm. She cried out and shook. And I let go. All my longing and frustration and need gave way to a single moment of pure fulfilment. My cock emptied itself into my mom's pussy, spurt after spurt after spurt. My hands grabbed her hips hard to make sure she got everything I could give her. I let out a breath of relief and exaltation. At last, my cum was inside my mom, where I wanted it to be.

Mom shook and squealed while my cock emptied itself. We quaked together, and I grasped her body at her waist. Her fingers dug in to my shoulders, almost painfully.

Mom and I quivered and came down from our orgasms together, our arms clutching one another.

Minutes later -- I don't know how many -- I came down from the high of my orgasm and I became aware of the feel of my hands on my mom's body. My fingers splayed out against her bare hips. I squeezed my fingers against her skin.

"Fuck," I said. "I did it. I've got you. I seduced my mom."

Mom's eyes were glazed and unfocused from her fucking-induced stupor, but they refocused quickly at my remark and she stared at me, a playful, knowing smile on her face.

"You seduced me?" she asked. "Is that what you think? Randy, I think you need to know something."

She shifted on my lap, putting a hand to my face and caressing my cheek lightly with her fingers while her pussy remained firmly fixed to my cock.

"I've wanted you for a long time," mom said. "Six months, at least. I remember when it started. You came home after an afternoon run. You weren't wearing a shirt and you were hot and sweaty and for the first time I noticed the muscles in your chest. I was horny and frustrated after the divorce from your dad and I needed a man. Online dating didn't work so well. And then, suddenly, I noticed you. My son. You were more of a man to me than any other men I knew.

"But I felt guilty about it. I was your mom. It wasn't appropriate for me to have those . . . feelings about you. I tried to put them aside.

"But then you caught up to me that day when I was running. I saw the way you looked at me. You were turned on by looking at me. We stood on the hill together and the sun was going down and you looked at me with a look that . . . it melted me. I could see it in your eyes and in the way your body reacted. Am I right?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I'd never thought of you as hot before that. You were my mom. But since that day I haven't been able to think of anything other than how hot you are."

"I could see that," she said. "I saw the hunger in your eyes when you looked at me. And I loved it. I wanted more of it. I showed off to you that night on the sofa. Did you think that was an accident? It wasn't."

I was struck to the bone by what mom was telling me. Everything about the past few weeks between mom and me was different from what I'd thought.

"I wanted you," mom continued, "But I couldn't just come out and say it. So, I let you take charge. I felt bad as your mother wanting you, but I figured if you were the assertive one somehow it would be O.K. And you kept pushing, thank God. I saw the lust in your eyes. You wanted me, and I wanted to give myself to you. But I couldn't do it right away. I had to be sure it was right. It took me a while to figure out that it was. And here we are."

Mom stopped talking and pressed her lips against mine, and I kissed her back. She straddled my lap with my cock standing straight and deep inside her, even though I'd just come.

I thought maybe mom wanted to talk rather than fuck. I began to pull out of her, but mom grabbed my ass and stopped me from doing so. She pressed her head against mine and she spoke softly but urgently into my ear.

"Stay inside me," she said. So, even though we were both spent, we kept fucking.

"I think we crossed a boundary tonight," I said to her. Her hands still were on my ass, pressing me tightly against her, and she started rocking her hips gently against mine.

"I think we should try different boundaries," she said. "Or maybe no boundaries."

Somehow, my cock already was stiffening again, and I felt her wet cunt grip and squeeze my thickening shaft.

I stared into the bottomless depths of my mother's green eyes, shining with love and lust.

"Holy fuck, mom," I whispered. "You are so hot."

"A good mommy wants to look hot for her son," she said.

THE END..