Incest/Taboo A Mother's Worry

Mom spent some time preparing her breakfast at the kitchen island, cutting various fruits as her robe opened a little more, baring more of her breasts, but never as much as I hoped or feared. My heartbeat sped up with every flutter of her clothing, its thin silk sliding over her body, clinging here, gripping there, and rolling like waves with dips and rises as she continued with her task.

She never looked at me, only at Dad, and the one time his paper crinkled as he lowered it, Mom reached up with her left hand and pinched her robe shut. Dad didn't look at her, he was sipping his coffee and had happened to tilt his paper forward, but when it had come down, Mom had covered up. It was at this time my cock, already warm and relaxed, decided to have its first stretch of the morning.

As Dad's paper rose, Mom's robe came open. She finished cutting her fruit for her breakfast and came to the table, sitting across from Dad with an assortment of bite-sized bananas, berries, citruses to nibble on with a side of yogurt for dipping.

She ate. Dad ate. I ate, only I had a view of the inside of Mom's left breast, almost to her nipple. The soft swell of her chest mound made my mouth water for more than her French toast.

As I watched my mother, my cock tingled, and the head swelled, pushing the fabric of my boxer briefs and basketball shorts outward and upward. After teasing me, how did my mother think that I wasn't going to run off to the one girl who had already guaranteed me some pussy? How could Mom hope to keep me at home when what I really wanted was--

The shock of an electric spark zapping my brain put a stop to my thoughts, and when they came back, a new question had entered my mind. How far was my mother willing to go to keep me from being sexual with Jenna for the next four years?

Did I want to know?

My mind stuttered, like an old film reel that had lost its tracking, and everything blurred. I didn't know if I wanted to know, but my dick, the nasty mother fucker, who wanted to spread open the little lips between my girlfriend's thighs, had no problem growing thick and hard and hell-bent on finding out.

I needed to get out of the kitchen, but I had a hard-on, so I sat there, eating with a slow, deliberate gait as I willed my fucking chubby friend down to half-mast. It wasn't easy since I was sneaking glances at my mother's tit while wishing her robe would move a hair more to the left. I wanted to see the shade of her areola and maybe the size of her nub.

The size of her nub--her fucking nipple!

I had been aware of her nipple--nipples--since the start of this, but it was her flesh that had stolen the attention of my eyes and other, darker thoughts had also kept my mind occupied, but I had been aware of my mother's nipples. What had started as smooth silk against the jutting swell of her breasts had developed small rises in their surface--rises that had pushed the fabric outward in a pair of points. Growing and growing, they thickened and hardened, my imagination witnessing the tight swirling and contracting of her flesh, seeming to swell while stretching outward as the little cracks in her nipple flesh constricted.

Shit--my balls hurt.

As soon as the last bite of French toast entered my mouth, I pushed my chair back and turned in my father's direction. He still had his newspaper raised. Who the fuck reads an entire newspaper? I'm glad he did because the left side of the paper kept his eyes away from my tented shorts. I should have slid from my chair in a half-crouch and slunk away with my back turned to my mother before standing, but I didn't do that. I don't know why, but instead, I pushed my chair back, and as I turned to my right, I stood, leaving no doubt about the effect my mother had on me. Even if she were looking forward, her peripherals wouldn't have failed to notice the hard-on that she had raised.

I should have rushed upstairs to jerk off, but instead, I jumped onto the couch facing the TV, grabbed the remote, and looked for something to watch. I flipped through the channels, not paying attention, as I looked at the clock and waited for my father to leave the house. By the time he had left, my hard-on had gone down, but my leg had started to fidget.

Dad left just before eight in the morning, and I waited in the living room, unaware of what I expected or what Mom had planned. Jenna was always available after her half-day summer classes, and a little bit of teasing wasn't going to keep me away from her. But would a whole lot keep me away from her? No. Mom's teasing wouldn't keep me away from Jenna, that's for damn sure, so the question came to me again: How far was my mother willing to go to keep me away from Jenna for the next four years?

Get your shit together, I thought. Did Mom really want to do this? Had I driven her insane? No way, she was a rational woman--educated, composed, experienced, and.... Mom walked into the living, just beyond my couch, stopping in front of me, but off to the side.

"Hey," I said, staring at her back and butt--mostly her butt--which her robe rested upon, with the cloth covering her center groove and dipping between her cheeks.

"Hey," Mom said, not turning around. "I'm going to work for a little bit, but then I'm coming downstairs to do some housework."

"Okay," I said.

"It's going to be hot today." A tremor underscored Mom's voice. "Don't go anywhere."

"Jenna doesn't get out of school until noon," I said. "And her dad insists on picking her up now instead of me."

"Good," Mom said. "I'll be back in a couple of hours to clean, okay."

"Okay."

Mom turned, and when she did, her robe lay open from her neck to below her breasts, her inside swells and cleavage visible. Her perky handfuls left some open space between her breasts that made my mouth water and tongue dance. Mom paused for a moment, standing still long enough not to make things obvious before she left the living room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Fuck me, but this was unexpected and strange, and yet it filled me with a kind of nervous yet excited energy that I needed to release. I waited until I was sure that Mom was in her room before I raced upstairs to my room to relieve myself of this adrenaline-like burden with hard pumps of my cock.

Porno, stories, camgirls--I didn't spend money on them--and other kinds of options presented themselves to me. I was ready to take them, but instead, I found myself searching Reddit for real-life stories about moms coming onto their sons, or vice versa. I was sure that every one of them was bullshit, but even if just one were true, then maybe I'd have an idea of how to handle this new side of Mom.

I mostly skimmed links to sex stories (many by Mr. Here/MrHereWriting) and actual website entries. Each one that captured my attention said the same thing: Be assertive. Don't let your golden opportunity go to waste. If your mother was coming onto you, then go after her. Don't let your mother run away from you, and don't let the guilt that was bound to set in once she offered herself to you take hold of her soul. Take hold of her soul! That was a bit dramatic--a little over the top--but it also made sense.

Yet, why would I want to test this out?

My cock knew why, but what did a dickhead know?

My fingers danced on my keyboard, not clicking any of the keys, just dancing over them with enough pressure to make the plastic caps rattle and shake. I should have got busy jerking off, but that's when I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

"Yeah," I called out as I minimized my porn windows, and my heart jumped to a jogging pace.

"I'm going to go downstairs to clean now," Mom said, speaking through my door. "Just to let you know."

"Okay."

How often had I watched my mother clean? How often did she? Up until today, I had never noticed when Mom cleaned the house. I spent most of my time in my room, sleeping until eleven in the morning because this was my summer to relax.

I looked at my clock.

It was ten in the morning.

Holy shit, I had spent about two hours reading incest threads involving moms showing themselves off to their sons. Much of it sounded like bullshit, and I had decided that all of it was bullshit, but still, some of it had sounded like it could be true.

Be assertive.

Maybe I didn't know how far I was willing to push this, let alone Mom, but a soft voice in my head sang to me with words spun from honey and silk, crooning, Just have one more look at your mother. Why not? She's a head-turner.

"Why not," I said to my empty room, and I stood from my desk, having to place my palms on the arms of my chair to push myself up. My body weighed a ton, but up it went, and on legs heavier than I could remember them weighing, I walked downstairs as the tempo of my heart shifted into a higher gear, and then another.

Mom was in the living room, wearing an outfit that I'd never seen her in. Her clothes looked new, and they could have been. She could have bought them yesterday. It's not like we spent twenty-four hours a day together. She had gathered her long, flaxen hair into a bun, one of those where the hair swirls about itself with neither a beginning nor an ending. She had donned a gray cotton house shirt that hugged her body and molded to her breasts, emphasizing their softness and shape while detailing her small waist and long, graceful arms. While the shirt had caught my attention, it was her shorts that had made my heart shift into a higher gear yet again.

These were dance shorts, and I knew my mother had danced once upon a time, mainly from grade school through college, and then just for fun. They were black and small and high-tied along her sides so that they angled downward from her hips to her crotch and her ass. They had loose leg holes, and because of their smallness, I could see the hint of my mother's ass cheeks, their very bottoms. Just a line of them, but that was enough to get my pecker going.

Wow.

From that line, her long legs, with a hint of muscle curving her thighs and hamstrings, descended into her calves and down into her tennis shoes, where I could see the white rims of her ankle socks. Her legs looked longer than normal--and they were already long--but that was because her shorts rode upward toward her hips. Fuck me, but my mother's swan-like body looked yummy.

How far was I willing to push this?

I took a deep breath and said, "Hey," before I left the stairway and walked into the living room.

"Hey," Mom said, smiling at me from where she stood by the living room windows, opening up the heavier curtains, but leaving the transparent curtains closed. "I'm going to clean now, but you can just relax and watch TV. I won't bother you."

"Sure," I said, my cheeks reddening the moment I saw a light shade of pink blossom across my mother's face. It was like watching the sunrise, and I had to control the sound of my next breath as I filled my lungs with air. "I'll just sit."

"Okay," Mom said and turned away from me to run one of those handheld, static dusters over the shelf on the left side of the TV.

I crawled over the back of the couch, grabbed the remote that lay on the center cushion, and turned the TV on, flipping through channels right away. Mom kept her back to me. I took in the smoothness of her legs and the cusps of her cheek bottoms, where they joined the backs of her thighs. Could I see her cheeks, or was I just imagining it? When Mom pushed herself up to her toes, her shorts lifted just enough to give me that small glimpse of ass flesh my cock was tingling to see.

I say my cock because my cock stiffened when I was positive that Mom was giving me glimpses of her cheeks. I moved on the couch, pushing myself into the corner between the armrest and the backrest, lifting my feet onto the cushions, and pulling my knees up to hide my bulging shorts.

Let her see.

I shook my head, and yet I had let her see me in the kitchen, but I had done that without much thought. Still, that let her see whisper gave me goosebumps, and Reddit had said to be aggressive.

Stop your fucking thinking, I thought.

Mom dusted the top shelves next to the TV and then the middle, then she backed up and started dusting the shelves and picture frames that were level with her thighs. She was dusting, but not really. Her arm moved, and so did her wrist and the duster, but the fibrous, Q-tip-like end only glided over the picture frames and various pieces of art that Mom had collected during her lifetime.

My heart sped up as she started to bend over--at the waist. Her legs stayed straight and parted, forming a triangle between her thighs that pointed straight to her muff. Mom had backed away from the shelves so far that she could now get her head below her waist while keeping her legs straight. What balance! Mom did enjoy her yoga. Her legs tightened, their firmness creating barely-there curves, but what made my heart speed up the most was action at the apex of Mom's thighs.

Her small, black cotton shorts had pulled tight between her inner thighs, forming a thick but thin thong while the back leg holes had ridden upward, baring about a quarter of her firm butt. I could see this new arrangement of her shorts, but she had to have felt it, and even though I knew what she was doing, chills of adrenaline rolled through my shoulders and down my arms. I shivered, feeling the light prickling of excitement bouncing across my skin like water sizzling over a hot surface.

What was Mom thinking?

Was this turning her on too, or was this something that she was only doing out of necessity? How the fuck could a mother desire her son, no matter what the scumbags on Reddit claimed? (Was I one of those scumbags now?) Did she have any idea what her desperate attempt to keep me out of Jenna's pussy was doing to my mind? My thoughts? My desires? My cock?

Fucking hell, but there was no way my mother had thought this through.

No fucking way.

Be aggressive.

The patch of cloth between her legs pulled inward as she widened her stance, baring her inner thighs to her outer labia and whatever kind of panties she was wearing beneath her shorts. A thong? She had to have been wearing a thong. I couldn't see her labia, but my sight caught the edges of her tender, outer folds.

Just the fucking edges!

Just give me half an inch more, I begged her shorts, but then she straightened her back, stepped to the side, and dusted around the TV. I found solace in her small butt, which wasn't flat, and not too round. Mom had a good butt. A wholesome butt that made my ball sack tingle. A mom's butt that made my knob throb--a throb from a mom who could surprise a son and his friends with her sexiness.

How long before Jenna returned home from school?

Too long.

I went back to watching Mom while doing my best to shut down my mind.

Mom finished with the TV, turning sideways to me as she walked to the next set of shelves, and my vision zoomed in on her breasts as they pushed against her gray cotton shirt. The under swells had a softness to them, while the upper portions sloped like a ski jump, ending with her thick nipples that had hardened to points half an inch long.

Jesus, they're just cutting right through her shirt, I thought.

My balls pulsed and through my cock shot a bead of precum that widened my shaft. My hips rolled on their own and out spat my wad of cream, wetting my boxer briefs enough that I could feel the wet stickiness against my crown.

Mom's head twitched as though she wanted to turn to look at me, but she never turned her head that far. Instead, she passed the TV and went to work on the shelves, standing straight and bending over, squatting, and pushing her butt outward. Sometimes she stood with her legs closed, and sometimes she opened them. She stretched upward, baring the bottom curves of her butt, and once she reached back with her left hand to scratch the top of her hamstring. Her elegant fingers pulled her shorts upward, exposing a solid quarter of her cheek, tanned to match the rest of her body, without a divot or blemish marring her smooth, angelic skin.

Another wad of cum left my balls, and I closed my thighs, pressing my knees together as a rolling cloud of sensitivity bundled itself around my knobs and tickled the tip of my cock. Fuck me, but I was going to come hard after this.

After dusting, Mom grabbed the vacuum and gave the carpet in the living room a good twice over, maybe thrice, as she ran the machine over the same spot in back-and-forth motions that made her little-ish titties bounce. She didn't look at me as she cleaned, even as she faced me most of the time. I watched, never once looking at the TV as her beaded nipples drew my gaze with the strength of a tractor beam.

Eventually, Mom's cleaning had to come to an end, and when it did, she looked up at me, smiling, then said, "One room a day. I hope I wasn't in your way."

I shook my head, and my mother never dropped her eyes below my face. Not that I was flaunting my hard-on, but with my knees up and a pillow now in my lap, she had to have known what was going on below my waist.

"Well, I need to get back to work," Mom said. "But, I'll see you here later, okay?"

I nodded my head, but I was already thinking of Jenna's juicy pussy in my hands. Mom went upstairs, and I went to my room, noticing the time. I had about an hour before Jenna would be home, so I spent the next forty-five minutes punishing my cock for its dirty thoughts about my mother. Twice I nutted, and twice it was to the kind of porn that I had never watched before. I had watched my share of daddy-daughter scenes and brother-sister scenes, but I was neither a father nor a brother, so the ickiness of those scenes had never entered my mind during those episodes of sensual fulfillment.

As noon approached, I jumped in the shower, cleaned the sweat from my body, freshened up, and as I exited the bathroom, my eyes widened at the sight of my mother in the hallway. I couldn't tell if she had been waiting for me or if she had been on the way to my room, but there she was, paused in mid-step. And there I was, with a towel around my waist with the rest of my upper body bare: shoulders, chest, arms, and abs. Mom's eyes looked down, then sprung back up to meet mine. The green in her irises had an inner glow that I had never noticed before.

"I'm going to go get some sun," Mom said. "Would you like to join me?"

She smiled.

Yes.

But what I said was, "I'm going to go see Jenna."

Mom's smile straightened, and she gave me one of those looks before she said, "I bought a new bikini that I could use an opinion on." She smiled again. "Give me ten minutes of your time."

A whisper of breath left my lungs, whistling through my lips as a bead of water dripped from a hair hanging over my forehead and fell downward through my vision. I could almost hear that tear-shaped bead of H2O burst apart as it landed on the carpet below me.

"Okay," I said.

Mom's smile widened, and she hopped forward so fast that I couldn't react before she pushed up to her tiptoes and pecked me on my cheek.

"Thanks," Mom said. "I'll see you down there soon. Wear your suit."

She had bought a new bikini as though she hadn't owned bikinis that were small enough as it was. Fuck me, but I decided that Jenna could wait a few minutes, but only a few.

Pushing it Poolside

We had a big backyard, square, with landscaping and plenty of green, some trees, and a pool house next to a Roman-shaped pool and an elevated spa off to the side. White tile surrounded the pool, the edges, and the granite rock forced a backdrop around half of the pool with an outcropping of rocks where a decorative waterfall added a final touch of paradise.

I stepped through the dining room's swinging glass doors and into the sun, the rays of light warming my skin on contact. No shirt covered my upper body, but a white towel hung over my left shoulder, and a pair of colorful boardshorts circled my waist. I had chosen the shorts that Jenna had bought me. They hung low enough on my hips that if I hadn't trimmed my pubic hairs, more than a few curls would have poked out over the waistband. Mom didn't like them--not when Jenna was around, and Jenna's fingers had a tendency to glide across my skin, but maybe that would change now that we were alone. If Mom could show off, then why couldn't I? (It had taken some effort to pull those shorts from their drawer and slide them up my legs.)

Next to the pool, opposite the granite wall, there was a row of white-cushioned lounge chairs and small glass tables. That's where I found Mom. She lay on her back, with a white tennis visor on her head and sunglasses over her eyes. Her skin didn't shine with lotion, and my heartbeat did a double-thump as soon as I saw that. She wore a small, red bikini top over her breasts, the kind made of strings that wrapped around her back and hooked over her shoulders, around her neck. The cups were half-moons that cut an angle across her breasts, covering her nipples but leaving the inner swells and the sides of her tits exposed.

I wanted to whistle. I had never seen my mother wear a top that exposed so much of her tit-flesh, and yet, I had to hide a sigh. I don't know why I had thought that Mom would have worn less, but I had hoped. Did she think a bikini would keep me from running off to Jenna after her teasing today? And as if she wanted me to run off to Jenna, around her waist, she was wearing a mid-thigh length, white, semi-transparent wraparound skirt. A skirt? Damn it!

"It took you long enough to get down here," Mom said. "I was about to go inside after you."

"Ah, well," I said and shrugged. "I was just picking out my suit."

"I see," Mom said. Behind her glasses, I couldn't tell where her eyes had fallen on my body.

I walked over to her and dropped my towel on the chair next to hers. I was about to sit down when she said, "How about a quick dip?"

"Sure," I said as the hairs on my body reached skyward.

Mom removed her visor and stood, her butt toward me, and through the transparent mesh of her skirt, I caught glimpses of her cheeks and thighs. Before I could decipher whether she was wearing a G-string or a thong, she unwrapped her skirt, revealing a thick red thong running through the crack of her small, golden, and pear-shaped ass.

God damn it, but my father was a lucky man.

"No tan lines," I whispered aloud as though my mother wasn't four feet from me.

"No," Mom laughed. "No tan lines." She turned around. "So, do you like my new bikini?"

Oh, dear lord, yes--yes, I did.

The thong riding my mother's crack swept outward at her lower back, just above her cheeks, leaving them bare. The strings were maybe a quarter-inch thick, biting into her skin a tad, giving her slenderness a faint bulge above and below her waistline. In front, they swept down the cut of her hips to the V of her crotch, where they connected to a red, triangular patch of cloth that didn't quite cover my mother's vanilla pie. A quarter-inch of labia lay exposed to the elements. I could see the impressions of what had to be a fluffy landing strip pushing against the front of her nylon panties--panties that rode so low on her mound that I could see several wispy, flaxen hairs poking above the nylon.

My cock thickened, the head expanding at a slow rate--slow enough that the stretching of my glans exploded through my nerve endings.

"Mark?" Mom asked.

I raised my eyes, devouring her long body and her apple-sized breasts, whose just-over-a-handful size looked smaller than they were due to her height. Her nipples stood out straight and hard, stretching the nylon fibers forward and sideways, threatening to rip the threads apart. When I reached my mother's face, I saw swirls of pink in her cheeks, but her sunglasses hid her eyes. An almost-smile ghosted the corners of her full lips.

"My bikini?" Mom asked.

"It's breathtaking," I whispered.

"Thanks." Mom's smile widened. "I'm glad you like it. I've bought more, too, for the rest of the summer." She breathed in, shivering, and then out, the sound trembling in the air. "And if things go well, maybe you can help me pick out more?"

I nodded my head.

Mom lifted her left hand to her glasses, took the temple piece between her thumb and forefinger, and slid them from her face. There was a smile in her green eyes and something else that I could only call a victory. She tossed her glasses on her lounge chair and turned away, walking toward the pool with her butt cheeks rolling and her long legs slipping one in front of the other with each step. As I drooled over her ass, my eyes caught the heart-shaped gap at the top of her thighs and the tender bulge of her soft pussy meat as it created a hanging crescent in the gusset of her panties.

Oh my god! My cock sprang up so fast, and my balls tightened so hard that I had to clench my teeth to bite back my groan. Mom reached the edge of the pool and dove forward, as graceful as the swan she was. As her steepled hands parted the water, I raced forward and dove in as well. The water coating my body was a crystalline blanket of freshness. I made sure to rise above the water at a depth that kept my waistline and erection hidden beneath the swaying water's surface.

Let Mom see, my cock yelled at me. Let her fucking see what she does to us!

Maybe later, I mumbled to my perked-up soldier.

Mom came out of the water after I did, having swum to the opposite edge of the pool. Her head erupted through the water's surface, her hair whipping up and back and flinging globs of liquid through the air. She turned around, running her hand over her face as the water painted her nylon bra to her tits and more ran down her stomach and hips and back into the pool.

"That feels good," Mom said. "Race you to the end!"

Mom dove to her left, elongating her body as she started a sidestroke. I watched her for a moment, my eyes freezing to the gap between her thighs and the tight roll of nylon hammocking her muff. She had so much pussy meat for such a slender woman--so it looked in the water. My cock jerked, the head trying to rip through my shorts, creating a jolt of pleasure that ran along my shaft. Moaning, I followed my mother's body through the pool, wishing that I had worn a pair of goggles so that I could better appreciate the light glinting off my mother's body through the thickness of the oscillating water.

She touched the back wall and broke through the surface. I followed. She shook her head, made a wuh sound, and swam away from me. Once again, I watched her slip through the water, my eyes finding her thong as it cupped her crack, and then her gusset as it cradled her wet pussy. Jesus Christ, but Mom had to know that I wasn't going to just beat off after this when I had Jenna offering her juicy clam to me.

I followed Mom back to the shallow end of the pool, my dick swinging in my shorts. Every kick of my feet and twist of my body sent a buzz through my cock. My dick wanted pussy. My mind wanted pussy. Fuck, my soul wanted pussy, and it wanted it right then.

"I think it's time for some sun," Mom said, standing in the shallow end with the water lapping around her thighs. I didn't hide my gaze this time, looking down her dripping wet body and focusing on the triangle of cloth that left the softness of her outer labia uncovered. "Don't you?"

"In a second," I said, hidden up to my waist beneath the water's surface. "I just"--my heart thumped, creating a hollow boom within my chest that I was aware of but too excited to feel--"want to watch you get out of the pool."

Mom's eyes widened, and she seemed a little taken aback, but then she smiled with a kind of gotcha quality to her lips. She turned around and walked toward the steps, her ass and thigh gap holding my cock's attention. I just wanted to be between her thighs.

Eighteen-year-olds weren't meant to be virgins, not when women--adult, fucking women--who shined like my mother were teasing them.

Mom walked around the front of the pool, her body dripping and her hair plastered to her body, its light, bright color at odds with her golden skin. I loved it. The sides of her almost-little tits jiggled, bouncing just enough to make my blood pump. Her body was the picture of classically toned slenderness not influenced by today's Instagram-fit girls or the pre-woke, skinny-girl chic, runway models, and it made every nerve ending through my flesh buzz with adrenaline.

Mom grabbed her towel, drying herself off with long sweeps of the terry cloth. She dried her arms and legs with pushing motions, turning her body so that whatever side she was drying was turned away from me, giving my eyes the freedom to roam over her skin without shame. Mom finished, put on her sunglasses and visor, threading her hair through its headband, and she sat down on her lounge chair. She lay down as the sun beat down on her. She lay with her legs slightly spread and her bikini panties cupping the tender folds between her legs. I could see the faintest impression of them, and I oh-so-badly wanted to touch them.

I walked to the edge of the pool--staring. After a minute of this, when Mom spread her legs further apart, I pressed my cock against the side of the pool, nearly coming. I wasn't about to hump the wall, but I wanted to. Instead, I bent my knees and dropped beneath the water, placing my hands on the lege and pushing myself underwater. I held my breath until a fire burned within my lungs and my throat convulsed--my heart speeding up for another reason. I did this until my erection softened enough not to hurt when I walked, and then I sprang out of the pool, no longer thinking about what I was doing as I walked to my lounge chair.

My towel found its way into my hands, and I dried myself off, taking my time as I stared down at my mother. Was she looking up at me through her sunglasses? She had the hint of a smile on her lips, and her breathing was far from mellow. Her slim stomach rolled downward and up, her breasts rising and falling with them, her nipples reaching heavenward with unashamed stiffness. Could she feel my eyes on her--even if she wasn't looking at me?

"Pass me my tanning oil," Mom whispered. "I think I could use just a bit more color, don't you?"

"Sure," I said, bending over and picking up the bottle of oil.

Mom didn't need more color. She had perfect skin, from its flawless complexion to the sun-cooked gold of her tan, but who was I to argue?

"Mom," I said, my voice shaking, "I can put it on for you."

Mom's smile straightened, and I saw her swallow as time slowed. The movement of her throat seemed exaggerated, and it cascaded down her breast, her stomach lowering and rising as well.

"That's okay," Mom said. "I can do it. Why don't you sit down and enjoy yourself."

I licked my lips and said, "I think I'm going to go see Jenna," in a quiet, almost guilty tone.

Time stopped.

I heard the wind and the static-like rustle of leaves blowing in the breeze. The sun moved, its rays growing hotter as it curved through the air, and then a chill hit me, and I shivered despite the heat.

"Okay," Mom whispered.

Okay, what?

"Okay, what?" I asked in a whisper of breath.

"Okay, you can put the oil on me," Mom said in a tone that matched mine. "My back first."

My shorts moved outward as my cock grew, and Mom's chin tilted down, her eyes staring a straight line toward my growing bulge. She froze for a moment, her breathing heavy, and then she rolled to her right, away from my cock, and turned onto her stomach. She turned her head away from me, crossing her arms beneath her cheek, and she laid her head across her small forearms.

I swallowed as my heart punched the underside of my chest hard enough to make my throat hurt. The world brightened, and I sat on the edge of Mom's chair as my vision swooned, moving left-to-right and left again, like a pendulum. I shivered again, and then I took a deep breath that sounded extra loud to my ears. I released it, then took another, and released that in a tunnel of wind through my lips.

"Are you okay?" Mom asked.

"Yeah," I said as my prick hardened fully. "I'm fine."

"Okay," Mom whispered.

The cap to the oil was one of those push-down on one side and spring-up on the other kind, and I depressed it with my thumb and then held the bottle over my mother's back. My eyes stared at the strings of her bikini bra, and I asked, "No tan lines, right Mom?" in a faraway voice.

Mom took a deep breath.

"Mom," I said with enough urgency in my voice to make my suggestion sound like a demand.

"Untie my bra for me," Mom said, "and drop the strings to the sides." The sides, where I could already see the bottom flesh of her breasts, bulging outward as her upper body pushed their roundness into her cushioned chair.

I reached down with my hand, fingers extended, the tips trembling, and I plucked one of the strings of her bra's bow on the first try. I pulled, watching as the string slid through the knot, and the bow shrank and shrank, snapping free and leaving a simple crossover knot. Pulling the string to the side and giving it a shake to loosen it from its partner, I tossed it to the side, and then I grabbed the other string, dropping it to Mom's left side, undressing her back. As the strings landed on the cushions, the cups of Mom's bra fell away, baring the side of her tits to my eyes. My cock jumped, and I pulled my hips back, trying to find room within my shorts for my aching erection.

There was no room.

Tilting the bottle of oil, I let a stream of the thick liquid spill from the cap's nozzle. The sunlight caught its burnished gold color, making it sparkle--reminding me of that album cover in my grandmother's collection where honey drops from the comb. The end bulb struck the center of Mom's back. Her spine moved as she reacted to the oil's touch, and I watched as a pool formed over her skin, then slipped to the side in thin rivulets of liquid sex.

Sex.

I placed the bottle to the side, freeing my hands, and extended my fingers, bringing the tips down to my mother's back. They shook until they touched her skin and moved upward, my digits spreading as far apart as they could as I stroked my mother's skin. My adrenaline spiked, starting in my heart and radiating outward, finding the pathways through my shoulders and arms and down into my hands, where the energy passed through me and into my mother.

"Mm," Mom moaned, but it sounded like a low, muffled groan that she had tried to hold back. Her mouth never opened, and the sound was low and faint, but it was there. My heart raced, and I pushed harder into her skin, trying to get her to moan again. She didn't, but her lips twitched as I increased the pressure across her smooth skin.

I reached Mom's neck, pushing my fingers into the slope running down to her shoulders. My mother had a firm body, but not too firm, her muscles lying beneath a single layer of feminine softness, giving her body all the hints of having curves while still appearing thin. She had a showgirl's body, a runner's body, a dancer's--the kind of body that deserved admiration, coupled with a beauty that could turn a strong man weak or a hard man soft.

All this from just touching her, I thought.

I had never touched my mother before. Not like this. A hug, a kiss on the cheek, a tug on her arm or hand, but I had never stroked her in such a familiar way. There was no other way to rub oil on a person, whether they were a friend, a girlfriend, your mother, or a client at a spa. This was as intimate as two people could physically become, outside of sex.

Sex.

I ran my hands down my mother's shoulders and over her arms, straightening each of her arms one at a time and having to tug the first one loose before she gave it up. I ran my hand down her arm, over her small bicep and forearm, my long fingers circling her limb completely. I reached her fingers, and I covered them with oil as well, taking time to stroke each one of her digits before making my way back to her shoulders, where I rowed my thumbs over her skin, warmed by the sun--and, I hoped, by me.

The more I touched my mother, the harder she breathed and the calmer I grew. I stayed hard, and my excitement rushed through me, pushing through my veins in thick pulses of light, but I remained calm.

What was my mother feeling?

I lowered my hands down her back with my thumbs meeting along her spine. Her skin moved before my fingertips as I fanned them outward, turning them sideways so that they faced my mother's ribs and the sides of her breasts. Oil glistened in the light, and the velvet texture of her flesh sent ripples of desire through my arms. My cock swelled, and out poured a hefty glob of precum that would have given me a thick droplet of dewy goo to add to the oil covering her back.

If only I could rub my precum on her....

If only I could.

What a terrible, horrible, and thrilling thought. And like that, I had begun to free myself of every reservation that I had concerning how far I was willing to push my mother in her game of tease with me.

Freeing myself--that final moment that pushed me across the line that Mom had drawn--didn't mean that I was without fear or anxiety. It took an effort to push my hands outward, the tips pointing left and right, and then curling over Mom's slick back toward the outer bulges of her breasts. Mom tensed as my fingers slid down her ribs, straight down toward the cushion, not backward toward her hips. Straight down, to her titties, almost reaching them, almost there, almost touching their softness until--

"Mark," Mom said in a whispered rush, "your hands are slipping in the oil."

They aren't slipping, Mom.

I swallowed to regain my composure. My cock ached and twitched, and after a pause, I moved my hands down her ribs to her sides. Touching her like this made her seem small. Her great Motherhood shrunken down to a normal woman, a sexy woman, who was letting me touch her in ways that she never had before. My cock jerked again, spitting up more precum, and I released a shaky breath as I moved my hands over her sides to the small of her back.

My thumbs pressed into my mother's spin, then rowed up and around, and I opened and closed my fingertips. This was no casual massage that I was giving my mother. I caressed her, opening my fingers wide and gliding my palms over her skin, watching as her flesh moved before my fingertips in a wave of visual stimulation.

What was my mother feeling?

Her breathing had deepened. She lay still, mostly, with her lips tight and her eyes unreadable behind her sunglasses. I moved my hands lower, then higher, then lower, nearing the quarter-inch-thick waistband of her thong bikini. Closer and closer and closer....

"Mark," Mom snapped when my oil-slick hands moved over her thong's waistband and right on her ass.

"I have to get all of you," I said, my voice heavy and low, the sound of my breathing exciting me in its perversion.

Did it excite my mother?

Her breathing had deepened.

"Jenna," I said as I pressed my palms into my mother's small, soft ass. Soft on the outside, firm on the inside, yet not as firm as a teenager's ass. That contrast between young tightness and mature firmness sent a sensual heat through my body that made the world spin. "Jenna lets me do this whenever I want."

Mom hissed.

I curled my fingers down her butt, then opened them, my thumbs riding the edges of her shallow crack and grazing the line of the thong running between her cheeks. I didn't try to go under her thong, but I wanted to. Fuck, I wanted to, and my cock, dripping precum, was more than enough proof of my desire for my mother.​