Page 02
She looked up and we sort of stared at each other. The clock audibly ticked above us, and the snow outside started falling more heavily.
"Alright," she said, finally, getting up.
We went to the bathroom and sort of stood there awkwardly for a second. Mom's hands went to the buttons that went down the center of her shirt and toyed with them. I made a point of looking away from her. If there was one thing that was obvious, it was that she was nervous. Uncomfortable. And I knew that it was my fault.
Not that I was in control of what turned me on, but I couldn't imagine being my poor mother in that second, hesitating and deliberating as to whether to undress in front of her horny son. Whether she herself was horny, whether she liked the way her son's cock looked, the weird new dynamic we had that made it difficult to just be ourselves.
"Mom," I said, trying to offer some semblance of hope, "maybe I can just do some cold showers, or something. There's research about them on the internet that says you can--"
"If you show up at your workplace with greasy hair, that's the end of you," mom said, curt. "He's fired for less. Remember our deal? You show up groomed. Always."
And that was the end of my own last-ditch attempt to salvage whatever relationship I had with my mom.
What was going to come after this?
Was I going to have to move out? I couldn't imagine anything but that being the case -- there was no way we'd be able to live together in good conscience.
I heard her take a deep breath. It was slight. Shaky. In my peripheral vision I could see her chest, swelling out, shrinking back, her breasts lifting and dropping.
"Okay," mom said, her voice brushed thick with fake confidence. "Let's get this over with like adults."
Her fingers went to work -- fast. They went down the buttons in a fast and practiced line, and then she pulled off her dress shirt in a fast motion, throwing it onto the floor, her upper body now only covered by a cute white tank top and bra. Her hands went around her waist and pulled down her pants in a single, smooth motion. Her legs went up, were free, were smooth and long and curved and white. Her cheeks were contrasting with the color of the rest of her body -- a burning pink.
Watching her undress was... bliss.
Her hands reached under her tank, lifted it up, and now she was only in her underwear. Her bra barely contained the lovely voluptuousness of her breasts, her panties were tight around something cute and plump between her legs. Her hands went behind her. A swift flick and the bra was free. Her breasts let go, made sharp tear drops with pointed, deliciously puffy nipples.
Then she leaned over, her fingers hooked into her panties, her breasts hanging, suspended, heavy and sharp and pointed with yummy pinkness I could almost taste. She stopped for a split second. Glanced at me. Saw me fully clothed. She blinked.
I didn't realize I was staring.
I yanked off my pants, my shirt, my socks and underwear. As my cock pulled free from my boxers, it sprang straight up, rigid and throbbing. Her eyes glanced at it, darted away. I saw her breathing a little more deeply, her eyes flicking up, then down, over and over.
Then her own hands started to pull downward on her soft white panties.
The fabric gently drifted down.
Past her thighs.
Her little sculpted, blonde triangle emerged. The hint of pink underneath it was pretty. It looked... soft.
She stepped out of her panties and we looked at each other for a brief second before she moved, awkwardly, toward the handle. The water went on. We looked at each other in brief glimpses until the steam started to rise. The way her eyes lingered on my cock made my heart skip beats. She seemed so nervous.
Mom went in first. The way her legs opened as she stepped over gave me a fuller glimpse of what was between her legs, two juicy looking lips pressed tight by two plump mounds, a delicate color between them.
I followed her, got in. While she lathered up her hair with the shampoo, I tried again to keep focused, to avoid looking at my mother, to keep from being so fucked up. But the knowledge that she might have been even a little hot and bothered by the sight of my nakedness was forcing my cock up, hard, straight, rigid, and I knew all it would take was another glimpse my way for her to really, really understand how badly I wanted... something.
Her ass was so... full. And with every movement to the side, with each sweep of her arms as she worked the lather into her long, blonde hair, her ass gave a firm jiggle. I wouldn't be caught dead saying it out loud but... I wanted to just push my face between her cheeks and to just... taste her.
Fuck.
She passed the shampoo behind her this time, choosing to opt out of us pushing against each other to swap places. Enough of the water was moving past her that I got to lather up. I took care of my hair and thought that maybe, if she didn't watch the way my cock twitched and jumped with every movement of her full, plush ass, then maybe we'd get out of this with a shred of our dignity intact. Maybe.
After a minute of me looking longingly at her butt, she passed a soap bar behind her. I took it and started to wash myself, starting at the top and moving down.
But as I started to get close to washing my privates, I felt this extreme urge. The urge to touch myself around her, to use the soap as lube and to jerk off. She was right in front of me, her beautiful ass was right there and the way it glimmered in the steam and the water was so tempting.
I bit the inside of my cheek, hard, and decided that I wasn't going to go that far.
But it was tempting. And it did raise the question -- how the hell was I supposed to wash my junk without making her more uncomfortable?
I got lost in thought about it. Way lost. It was a full-on debate going on in my head, trying to define masturbation as either a physical activity, or maybe an emotional one. It was so engrossing that I just kind of... washed myself without thinking too hard about it. Obviously since I was erect, and since my mom was there it looked, and felt, fucking fantastic. But the debate raged on.
Until I noticed mom looking at me.
Maybe it was because my head was pointed down. Maybe it was because my mind was so thoroughly entrenched in the question of how to clean my cock without making mom feel too bad about our proximity. Maybe it was because I still held onto the soap and she hadn't had a chance to use it yet.
But just then I noticed she was looking at me.
And then she looked down.
Her bright blue eyes took a careful look at my length. At how close it was to her bottom. At how my cock throbbed, the head swollen with desire. Desire she knew without a doubt was for her.
She knew it was the desire that a son should never, ever have for his mother.
My mother looked at my hand on it. On the shaft, on the bubbles and the soap that coated me. I stopped washing my cock, froze, but her eyes watched my hand go back and forth before I stopped moving completely.
Then she looked at me again. Just her eyes. Just the blue eyes, wide, her pink cheeks and the heat and steam hiding the rest of her expression.
I didn't know how to react.
Mom saw it. She was seeing it. She was looking at me, at my cock, at the way my hand moved over its length.
Her hand reached out and held itself behind her.
"Honey," mom said, her voice a little strained.
"I need the soap."
"Oh. Right." I placed it in her hand and watched as it retreated in front of her.
And then I watched her wash herself. The water moved past her in sheets that helped rinse me, but too slowly for me to make an exit. Instead, I watched her helplessly, observing her hands moving over her shoulders, her arms, her fingers pressing into her soft flesh, smoothing down her waist in slick movements, pushing into the ample flesh along her hips... Her hands then slid down, massaging her legs. Her lovely, curvy legs, the kind that men drooled over, the kind that I couldn't help but stare at, stunned as she leaned slightly over, pushing her ass out as if she were shyly preparing herself for something to go... between her legs.
I had to get the hell out. I was going insane. My mother was so beautiful and sexy, and despite how fucked up it was for me to want her that way, the physical sight and the closeness and the delicious, floral smell of her soap was making my cock throb. The way she bent over was too much. My cock was humming, my mind was screaming at me, begging me to move closer to her. To press into her. To take her.
The most insane decision went before me. I could make a move. See if she'd let me. See if there was even a little bit of her that wanted it. It was the kind of choice that could destroy everything I had, but fuck, the way my mom looked was so tempting that I wanted to try, I wanted to risk it and see if she'd consent.
If in the tiniest miracle she was somehow as crazy as me... then I'd have her. I'd have bliss. I'd feel the sensation of penetrating my own mom, entering the very place I had come from.
Mercifully, somehow, she finished washing herself, and then rinsed off with efficiency, all the soap running down her in a perfectly straight horizontal line as if rinsing were an Olympic sport, and within seconds, she was done. She turned her head to the side, and then stepped out.
Breathing heavily.
I felt almost dizzy. I was breathing heavily too.
I saw through the shower curtain that mom was a little dazed. Her steps were uneven. Her hands reached out for her towel and she took it, her head shaking, her eyes closed, her lips barely moving as if she were saying something to herself.
With the rest of the water to myself, and with the temperature starting to go colder, I hurried up and rinsed myself completely off. Once I finished, I turned it off, stepped out, and saw her, standing next to the sink, wrapped tightly in her towel, her wet hair trailing down her back and making dark, wet lines in the cotton.
Her head was slightly down. She was staring into the sink, still distracted by whatever was going on in her head, still kind of out of it. I grabbed my own towel and started to wrap it around me. I would have finished. Except that mom's own towel was far, far, far too high up on her.
Her bottom, the curve at its base, was visible. Her cheeks were sitting, a plump pair, tight and heavy and beautifully round and smooth just underneath the edge of the towel. And from where I stood next to the shower, with mom leaned over, with her just far enough away, I could see...
The yummy pink of her pussy.
Just underneath her cheeks, the little hint of pink was covered by shadow, but not enough of it -- in the brightness of our bathroom I could see the color change, I could see the lips.
And a little bit of shine.
I didn't know if it was from the water. I didn't know if it was because she was wet. I didn't know, and almost didn't care, she looked wet, she looked so insanely hot, and the way she bent over, barely miming what I saw in the shower, I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do. My cock was still rigid, trying to cover it in a towel was just going to make a ridiculous tent. I could dry off, get dressed as fast as I could, and leave so that she had the place to herself.
I must have taken too long to figure this out.
Mom took a deep breath at the counter, and rubbed at the foggy mirror to see herself. But in the reflection, she looked toward me, and noticed where I had been staring.
Immediately, she straightened up, tugged her towel just a little farther down. Her eyes weren't wide, but they were looking at me, and her expression was something I really couldn't understand since the mirror was so fogged up.
But all I knew was that she saw me, again, staring, unable to look away.
She took her second towel in hand, grabbed her clothes, not bothering to wrap up her hair first, and strode out of the bathroom, past me, much faster than her customary walk.
I was in the bathroom by myself again.
What the hell was wrong with me?
The next day, we ate dinner in total silence. Mom didn't seem to have much to say about anything the entire day -- not in the morning, not in the evening.
I didn't really want to say anything either. The whole situation was too much. I was already planning plane tickets to Mexico so I could disappear into a nameless town and be forgotten forever.
Once our plates were in the sink, she finally spoke up.
"I guess it's time." Her voice startled me. She was looking at me with a weird expression. One I couldn't quite read, one I didn't understand. All I knew was that my heart started throbbing uncontrollably, and that she was walking slowly, unsteadily toward the bathroom.
I followed her in. The scent of my mom's floral perfume drifted behind her, and I drank it in, breathing it as if it were the last air on the planet.
Then we stood next to the shower, staring at it. Mom cleared her throat. "Okay." Her voice was thin. High.
Her hands went to the bottom of her shirt.
In what felt like seconds, she undressed, her clothes disappearing off her, white skin replacing fabric, pink cheeks growing pinker, smooth legs joining at her hips, her cute bottom now visible in a delicious curve.
I took off my own clothes as quickly as I could as well. My cock was already thick, throbbing at the sight of her. It jerked up from my waistband, her eyes flicked to it and then left as quickly.
Then she straightened up. I did too. She looked at me. Cheeks red. Eyes blue.
Her chest moving, her hands pressing along the front of her hips nervously, rubbing into her soft skin, her fingers seeming to point to the lips of her pussy, to the blonde triangle above them.
She looked away.
Then she moved toward the shower. It went on. The steam started to rise. She moved, stepping in, her ass pointing toward me this time, the cute shape of her cunny visible as she lifted her leg and leaned forward to get in.
I stepped in next, the steam and heat and the dew from the shower washing over me. Mom's hair was already wet, her hands efficiently gathering shampoo, applying it through her long blonde locks.
The water streamed down her body. Rivulets, reflecting the paleness of her body, bent like a river along every curve.
She passed the shampoo behind her. I used it. My heartbeat was so loud in my ears.
I summoned a little courage to ask her for the soap.
There was no response. Her hands went up and into her hair, her shoulders lifting. I imagined the way her breasts must have lifted as well, what the sharp shape of her perky nipples must have taken on.
I imagined how she must have felt about all this. Wondered if she was so lost in thought she couldn't even hear me. It had to have been a lot she was dealing with, all at once.
But I needed the soap. "Hey." I said.
No response.
I could see it there, by her knee, just in the corner where it sat at the rim. Without thinking, and fuck me, I should have thought, I just leaned forward to get it.
And I leaned right into mom.
I didn't mean to -- if I really understood in that instant what the fuck I was doing, I would never have done it. It was too fucking crazy. It was the kind of move that would have taken the most far out person to consciously try. And I definitely wasn't that person.
But I did it without thinking.
And the first thing I noticed was the soft sensation of her skin, of her flesh, and how her body felt as I suddenly pressed against her, reaching for the soap.
The next thing I noticed was her gasp. I felt her body move with it, as she took in the air in a sharp breath. She wasn't expecting this to happen, and in my defense, I wasn't either. But it was happening. The water from the shower, the shampoo running down, the heat, it made us slide against each other, intimately allowing us to feel each other. Her back was so lovely, her body being the first feminine body I had felt since the end of high school, her breathing the first feminine reaction I created in another in months.
And the third thing I noticed was the sensation, sparking pleasure, all along the length of my cock, as I pressed against her ass.
Her ass was so round, soft, pillowy. My weight was already going that direction, and the momentum, the direction, it wouldn't let me stop. My cock pressed hard into the softness of her bottom, settling between her cheeks, rubbing against her lower back, the shampoo acting as lubricant, the sensation of her softness against my cock made me take a breath in.
I couldn't really believe I was feeling my cock against my own mother's ass. And I'm sure, neither could she.
But I had the soap in hand. And I drew back, not sure if I should apologize, if that would make everything more awkward. My cock slipped back, but as I drew backward, it drew along the line of her ass, the head of my cock tracing between her cheeks.
I opened my mouth to say I was sorry. To explain that I didn't mean it. To try and tell her that it was an accident, that I was sorry, and that I promise, I never would have done anything like that on purpose, that I knew it was crazy and that it was probably too much and --
Mom turned around. My mother carefully turned, her eyes looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. Her cheeks were redder than they were before, the heat of the shower and the steam rising around us in a dense cloud, the soft pink of her lips apparent, her mouth barely open as if she was about to say something. I couldn't tell if those words would have been accusation... or maybe... acknowledgement? Agreement?
...Consent?
But no words came out. Instead, her cheeks flushed, her breasts heaving before me, her nipples like flickable candy, my mother stared me in the eye while my heartbeat deafeningly in my ears. Her eyes went down.
Toward my thickly erect cock, throbbing in the water and the heat and the sight of my mom, staring, shocked, at her son.
In my hands I held the soap bar, nervously turning it around and around.
"I just..." I stammered, "I needed the soap... I needed... to wash myself."
Her mouth moved; her eyes still glued on my cock. On her son's cock. Her lips made an uncertain shape as she tried to make a sound. But she was silent. Entranced.
I didn't know how the hell to react. But something was very different, the steam and the heat and her eyes and the lingering sensation of what my mother's flesh felt like as I pressed against her from behind, everything was swirling around in my head and combining with the fact that mom was looking at my cock, stuck, her mouth parted and her breaths gasping and her chest heaving.
And her hands moving.
The only thing I noted in that instant were the suds along her hands. Her scented shampoo.
Her fingers moved forward.
Downward. Against everything my mind said would make sense.
And then they came close, dangerously close to me. I blinked, trying to make sure this was actually happening.
Mom's fingers came achingly close to my cock.
And then, her fingers traced in an invisible space, the little fraction of an inch, hovering over my shaft, so close I could feel the shelter of her hands, feel the heat from her fingers.
Then I felt one of her hands close around me. The warmth, the water, my mother's palm, they all pressed around my shaft. My mother's hands carefully took hold of my cock, the shampoo and my shock creating a blend of sensations that meant slickness, heat, and the sudden and extreme ache that only came with a hardon unlike anything I had ever had, my cock was positively throbbing for my mother's hands.
And then her hands started moving. Carefully, they pressed along the underside of my penis, her fingers gently feeling the shape, massaging the shampoo into my skin, all the while her blue eyes were staring straight down at her own son's cock while she washed it, mouth open, pulling down the skin as if she were jerking me off, slowly covering all of me with the soap and the suds and the soft, slick heat.
Mom washed me with the kind of care I knew only a mother was capable of, her beautiful, soft hands treating my cock with love, shock, surprise.
And then my mom looked up at me. Her blue eyes stared at me in tense shock, and her hands suddenly drew back, her mouth clamping shut.
I didn't know how to react either -- there was nothing we could have possibly said in that moment to deal with how she touched me, nothing that could have helped us to smooth it over.
The water temperature was starting to shift.
And then the spell was broken, the cooling water signaling an alarm, and we scrambled to cover ourselves with soap and to rinse off, frantically passing the bar of soap back and forth, working together to make sure we were able to get ourselves clean in the half minute we had left of warm water, our hands running over ourselves, our eyes sometimes looking at each other's bodies, at each other's faces. I didn't know what I must have looked like, but mom looked angelic, intensely sexy, her breasts moving, shifting, lifted and pressed down by her hands, her fingers pressing down between her legs, along her bottom, along the insides of her thighs and along her regally white neck.
And then we were done, the water started to turn cold, and mom turned around and slammed the handle shut, breathing heavily, shakily.
I stepped out before she did this time, similarly breathing heavily, the insanity of this shower too much for me to handle. I went to my towel, and buried my face in it. I could feel the heat from my own cheeks and tried not to think about it too hard, but it was impossible to hide from it. The picture of my mother's skin, her tits, her beautiful ass, the way it felt as I pressed against those lovely cheeks, the sensation of her hand as she... gripped me. As her hands ran up and down my cock as she washed me, entirely outside of what I expected.
I knew for certain now.
Everything I was feeling, mom was too.
Holy shit.
Mom was turned on. Enough to touch her own son's cock.
My mom and I were turned on, insatiably horny, unable to control what we touched. Both of us. By each other. My mom wanted me, washed me, ran her fingers up and down my length, washed my shaft with tenderness, desire, wanted my cock against every bit of sense and decency and rule I thought she had. I wanted the same, I wanted that first, I wanted mom to keep touching me, to feel my cock some more, to jerk me off, I wanted to violate my mother's body and to press harder against her and to feel her, slippery, soft under me and to take her.
I wanted to fuck my mother.
I bit the towel, hard, trying to shove this out.
