Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Jimmy T's Family: Bk.  01: Mom


Summary: Lonely, ignored mom succumbs to son's summer seduction.


Keywords: inc,fic



   Chapter 1 -- Baltimore, Maryland...  June 29th 2011

   It was just after I'd clicked from the story back to the picture that I
heard the gentle tap on my door.  I almost jumped a foot out of my chair!
Christ!  Mom?  Who else could it be?  I tucked my cock back into my shorts.

   "Mom?" I asked as I spun my desk chair towards the closed door.

   "Is it okay to come in?" my mother asked even as my door slowly opened.
"Are you decent?" she added as she came into view.

   "Of course I'm decent," I answered as I let a smile light up my face. 
My cock was still tingling.

   "I'm not interrupting anything?  I saw some light under your door." Moms
hesitatingly posed questions came as she stood hovering tentatively three
feet into my room.

   "Nah, I was just checking my e-mail," I lied as my eyes flicked from my
mother to the picture on the computer I still had nestled on my lap.  It
was a picture of a naked woman; a naked woman who bore a heck of a
resemblance to the woman who had just entered my room.  Unlike my mother,
the woman in the picture was on her knees in front of a clearly younger
man. He was a teenager really and he was naked too.  He had an erection.  A
big one.  The erection was inches away from the woman's mouth.  Her tongue
was out.

   I clicked the image shut.  The story I'd been reading came back up on
the screen.  It was called, "Ohhh Mommy," I Groaned.  It was on my
favourite erotic story site.  I'd just gotten to the good part before mom's
knock.

   "I didn't hear you come in.  I thought with this being Bri's last night
you'd be later..." Brianne Cooper was my girlfriend of the last seven
months.  Our school year had finished just the week before.  Heck our high
school careers had finished the week before.  She was leaving for her
summer camp counsellor's job the next morning.  Then next fall she'd be off
to University.  I was staying home -- a gap year of work and then some
travel.

   "We hung out together all day." I answered.  Had we ever!  We'd spent
the afternoon in her bed.  It had been sorta a last hurrah for the two of
us.  We'd both known as we'd made love that it would never be the same
again between us.  It had been hard, deep, almost angry fucking.  Goodbye
fucking.  "She and her mom were busy packing tonight.  I was just getting
in the way."

   "Oh."

   "You were watching TV when I came in.  I was going to come down and say
goodnight but I didn't want to bother you.  Then later I heard the shower
going." And it was hearing the shower going and then imagining my mother
naked under the pulsing water that had sent me to my computer and my
favourite mother/son incest site.

   "You'll miss her," mom offered as she took another step into my dimly
lit room.  The only light was that coming from my computer screen and the
light that was flowing in around her from the hallway.

   "Yeah.  I guess," I offered as I stood up and then placed my computer on
my desk.  My penis was mostly back under control.

   "Do you want to talk about it?' mom asked as I flicked on one of my
bedside lamps.  Of course I did!  But instead I whistled in response as I
pretended to notice what mom was wearing for the first time.

   "What?" she asked even as a blush spread to her cheeks as she watched my
eyes traveling over her curves.

   Listen, I don't want you to think my mom was dressed in some wildly
provocative outfit or something.  It wasn't some semi transparent
stripper's costume.  Nor was she displaying that much skin.  I mean mom's
breasts weren't hanging out of some spaghetti strapped negligee.  She was
definitely not trying to give her son some kind of sex show.  However, she
had put it on before coming down to my room.  Which had to have meant
something.

   Of course I'd already discovered the outfit weeks before in her
cupboard. Although mom had a big dresser in her bedroom she also had some
built in drawers in her walk-in cupboard.  It's where she kept her more
risqué stuff.  Her secret bedroom stuff.  The stuff my sis and I weren't
supposed to know about.  I'd known by then that just about all of it had
come as presents from dad.  I'd noticed over the past couple of years that
each time he got back from one of his Australian trips that some new
intimate item of female apparel would appear in mom's closet.  The good
stuff!  Her 'come over here and fuck me' clothes.

   Okay, okay, I know I shouldn't have been skulking around in mom's
underwear drawers but what the heck?  Teenage boys do weird things.  They
think weird things.  And yes I was only weeks away from my nineteenth
birthday that night but habits I'd started way back when I'd been a horny
fifteen and sixteen year old still lingered.

   What mom was wearing that night was silk.  Dad had apparently picked it
up during a one night layover in Hong Kong on his way back home from his
last trip to Sydney.  And although I could only see the outer wrap I knew
it was a three piece outfit of cream colored silk with lace trim -- a pair
of high cheeked panties, a gossamer thin, tres décolleté negligee that
stopped at mid thigh and finally a modest outer wrap with sash that
theoretically was meant to hide the pure sexiness of the undergarments.  In
practice it didn't hide the curves of the body it was covering.  It only
highlighted them.

   I let mom's blush deepen for many seconds before I finally asked with a
fake leer, "Ma, do you have a secret boyfriend or something."

   "Ha ha!" she declaimed but I couldn't help but detect the satisfaction
at my backhanded compliment that I'd heard echoed in her voice.  "It's just
something your father brought back from Asia.  Just pj's for sleeping in."

   Yeah right I thought.  A week earlier I'd spent a half hour lying on
mom's bed while stroking my raging penis with the soft silk she was now
wearing.  My cock twitched in my shorts as I remembered the feeling.  "You
and dad aren't doing some of that kinky Asian stuff now are you?" I asked
with a leer.

   "JIMMY!" A blush.  A coy smile.  A challenge.  Excitement.  It was all
there.  Mom was sexually frustrated and I knew why.  "And just what do you
know about kinky Asian stuff anyway?" she asked when I didn't reply to her
admonishment.

   "I'm just joshing you mom," I answered.

   Then for a minute or two the two of us just stood warily watching each
other, neither of us suddenly able to continue the conversation.  My mom
was horny and I'm not even sure she knew it!

   Mom broke first, dropping her eyes and then almost shyly saying, "Well I
guess I better leave you ...  it's late ...  goodnight." She slowly started
to back towards the door but I knew instinctively she wanted to stay and
talk.

   I almost let her get to the door before I asked, "Do you like Bri mom?"
She immediately stopped.

   "Why, would you like to talk about her?" mom asked as she turned back
toward me.  She certainly did.  What mother doesn't want to talk about her
son's girlfriend?

   I encouraged her further by saying, "It's weird, I know I'm going to
miss her but I'm sorta almost glad she's going." Then I sat down on the old
sofa that I'd rescued from the rec room when dad had bought a new one a
year earlier.  It sagged a bit but was way comfortable.  I patted the spot
next to me in invitation.  Mom, not hesitating, plopped down next to me. 
Her clinging robe couldn't hide the movement of her breasts under the soft
cloth.  Breasts I'd been increasingly dreaming off over the past year. 
They were definitely bigger than Bri's.  And, even though I'd given a hell
of a lot of attention to my girlfriend's tits over the preceding months, I
knew the ones still lightly heaving next to me were infinitely more
attractive to me.

   Which, yes, I knew was wrong.  But you know what?  It had got to the
point where I didn't care.  The guilt I'd originally felt over my
incestuous desire has slowly ebbed away as the weeks and months had passed.
There was only the pure sexual desire left now.  My eyes flicked down to
the two nipplish bumps that pushed against the cloth.  I let her catch me
doing it.

   I wanted my mother!  I wanted to fuck her.  I wanted to fuck her tits.
Hers ass.  Her mouth.  Her pussy ...  her cunt.  And I'd decided I was
going to, one way or another.  And besides, if I didn't do it I'd
increasingly started to believe that somebody else would.  I'd been
watching her ever since it had occurred to me that mom had been going
without sex almost six months every year.  And every day, given her looks,
guys had to be hitting on her.  It would only take one weak moment on her
part...

   And dad was off again.  It'd be mid August before he'd get back from
Australia this time.  Which meant that I had lots of time.  A summer of
time.  A loving summer?  I didn't have to rush.  And heck, even if I hadn't
succeeded by the time my father returned I knew there'd be another
opportunity in the fall.  And then again in January.  And I'd decided that
I wasn't leaving home until I'd bedded her.

   But my cock was in a rush...  he was always in a rush!  He definitely
didn't want to wait.

   But what do you mean about your mother going without sex for six months
every year you might be asking yourself.  Well...

   ****

   You know, you don't have a fucking clue what's going on in the real
world when you're a kid.  The world revolves around only one person --
yourself -- and you're blissfully ignorant of what's going on in the minds
of the adults that surround you.

   Slowly, of course, that changes as you get older.  Awareness slowly
seeps in.  Puberty arrives.  Sex happens.  If you're a female reading this
it's hard for me to explain to you what it feels like to be a fifteen or
sixteen year old boy with your hormones raging.  Your brain descends to
your cock.  You have one priority in life.

   I'd gone through the same things every boy does these days --
masturbation ...  xxx movies on the internet ...  awkward groping of my
girlfriends ...  then eventually intercourse.  I'd been relatively lucky as
I'd traversed those years and had emerged as a relatively normal
heterosexual teenager.  Sitting next to mom on the couch that night I'd
already had sex with seven women -- a number I knew mom would never have
guessed or believe.

   But there was another aspect that had come with growing up over the
previous couple of years.  It was an awareness of my parents as sexual
beings.  I'd figured out that adults do have sex!  I'd actually heard them
doing it.  Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that I finally figured out
what the sounds that I'd heard for years coming out from my parents bedroom
at night really were.  More than once in the past year I'd sat outside
their bedroom, my ear tight against the door, as they'd made love.  It was
exciting!  Fuck, it was more than that.  I'd masturbated, stroking my cock
even as dad pumped his penis into my mother.  And of course I couldn't stop
myself from thinking that maybe it might just be fun for me to take a turn.

   And my parents did it often; it wasn't one of those once a month
marriages.  They fucked every night!

   Except...

   ****

   ...Except, as I told you already, they only did it about six months a
year!  Huh?

   My father met my mother about twenty years ago.  He was twenty-two years
old at the time.  He'd been cramming for the final exam of his college
career when a sudden craving for a pizza had driven him from his apartment
to the food court at the local mall.

   Dad in recounting the story years later (actually my sister and I
probably heard or overheard the story a hundred times growing up) said, 'I
walked into that restaurant and there was an angel working the register. 
Her halo almost blinded me.' Every time he said those words Mom would blush
and deny them.  I'm pretty sure it wasn't mom's halo that captured dad's
attention that day; it only takes a couple of seconds of flipping through
one of mom's old photo albums to figure out that she, even at sixteen, must
have turned just about every male head who encountered her.  But a couple
of things were unmistakable to anyone who had ever heard the story -- one,
that the two of them had fallen in love at first sight; and two, they
didn't fool around in getting together.  This was not one of those romances
that slowly evolved over months or years.

   They had sex for the first time within two weeks of meeting (I only
learned that fact many years later).  Mom had been a virgin.  This wasn't
that surprising given that she was only sixteen at the time.  News of which
(imparted by mom to dad immediately afterwards -- mind you the blood was a
clue dad couldn't have missed) had been quite a shock to my father.  Like
he almost had a heart attack.  Mom had apparently hinted at their first
meeting that she was almost nineteen and had some sexual experience.  She
wasn't and she hadn't!

   But in spite of mom's age Dad had no intention or interest in turning
back.  He was ready to rumble!  He was in love!  A week later he approached
my grandfather and asked for the hand of Sarah Elizabeth Simmons in
marriage.  Mom's parents had been even more astounded by the request than
dad had been at finding out mom's real age.

   "Are you crazy?" had been grandpa's first words to dad.  They'd been
quickly followed by, "you better not have done anything or I'll..."

   My cells, or what were to become my cells, were already dividing merrily
inside my mother that day.  Of course no one knew that at the time.  And
somehow my old man convinced grandpa that not only was he a perfect match
for his daughter but that the wedding should proceed almost immediately. 
And mom's parents weren't pushovers!  Their daughter was going to go to
University.  She was going to have a career.  That's how they'd brought her
up.

   But dad somehow convinced them even though he'd only known their
daughter for two weeks.  Which just shows you what a great salesman my
father was (and still is).

   Marriage quickly followed.  Then at the appropriate time I, James
Christopher Taylor, popped out.  Then eleven months after my birth my
little sister Lizzie was born.  Elizabeth Emily Taylor.  Our family was
complete.

   My parents, with the help of both sets of my grandparents, had quickly
bought a great little house on a tree lined street in a middle class
Baltimore suburb and settled down.  Mom was a stay at home mother until
both Liz and I started school.  Then, as she'd promised her parents before
marrying, she'd gone back to school and gotten a degree.  Sounds like the
All-American family doesn't it?

   Except for one little oddity.  My dad's job.  As I've already told you
Dad was a born salesman!  A go getter.  A risk taker.  An entrepreneur.  A
guy on the lookout for the main chance.  And he'd found it.  In Australia
of all places!  He'd stumbled on it even before he'd met mom.

   My old man was a Psych major with an Accounting minor (of all things)
and he spent the spring term of his junior year of his college life as a
transfer student at the University of New South Wales in Sidney, Australia.


   Somehow, in spite of the nude beaches, the beer drinking culture, and of
course the kangaroos, he'd figured out in his six month stint in Australia
that there were a heck of a lot of midsized Aussie companies that didn't
have any sales representation in the States.  It had started with one of
his classmate's father, an owner of a metal stamping plant.  A couple of
comments by this man over dinner one night had awakened my father's
interest.  Something clicked!

   When he left Sydney that summer he'd already set up "Taylor
AustralAmerican Trading Corp.".  A company that was the exclusive American
sales agent for three companies he'd already signed up.

   And during his senior year of university he'd still found time to get
the company up and running, and had opened an office and small warehouse in
Baltimore.  By the time he'd met mom the next May the company had already
booked a surprising number of orders.

   And so, after graduating, and after marrying mom, he was back off to
Australia.  And when he went he was the exclusive Australian agent for a
variety of small American manufacturers.  Why not move goods both ways he'd
figured.  Correctly.  A Sydney office was opened!

   And so, for the last twenty years, dad has spent almost half of his time
in Australia.  Yo-yoing back and forth; two months running the American
side of his business followed by two months in Sydney directing the
Australian side.

   Which meant, getting back to my parents present sex life, that my
parents, who I'd finally figured out were pretty active sexually, had gone
through twenty years of two or three months on, two or three months
off-again sex.

   And as a now eighteen, almost nineteen, year old male with a pretty darn
active libido, it was pretty clear to me that something didn't add up. 
There was no way dad wasn't getting laid while he was in Australia!  It was
impossible if he had anything like the sex drive I had.  And having
listened to my parents going at it I was pretty sure he did.

   So what the hell was he doing?  Whores?  Prostitutes?  Girlfriends? 
Mistresses?  Did he live with someone while there?  What did he do when he
was Down Under?  He'd always talked glowingly about Australia to us, the
beauty of its land and strangeness of its animals.  He'd brought my sister
and me presents back from every trip he'd made.  But when I'd finally
started asking myself what he was doing for sex while down there I realised
that I really didn't know that much about his life in Australia.  Where he
lived.  How he lived.  And even more strangely was that he'd never taken
any of us on a holiday to a country he professed to love.  The question,
'Why not', had been reverberating in my head for months.

   I'd already taken the first tentative steps to find out just what the
heck was going on with him Down Under just weeks before that night with
mom. And although I had no idea what I'd find I knew I'd find something.

   Meanwhile, when my thoughts eventually turned to mom and what she was
doing during dad's absences, I'd slowly come to the conclusion that so far
she hadn't ever fooled around while dad was away.  I figured I would have
noticed something.  But I was starting to know enough about women to know
that eventually she'd succumb to someone.  She was just too darn good
looking.  And with her now out of the house working five days a week I knew
guys had to be hitting on her right and left.  Even some of my buddies had
made it clear that mom was a true MILF.  She was a walking target!

   And given the noise she made with dad at night I was pretty darn sure
she liked it!  So she liked it but wasn't getting it.  Which sounded like a
recipe for disaster to me.

   So why not me?  What would be better -- mom screwing some married
co-worker or making love with someone who loved her?  Who'd never hurt her.


   Yes it was incest and when the idea first had sprung into my head I'd
tried to repulse it.  That's so disgusting I'd told myself.  But ideas like
that, once born, are not so easy to forget.  Especially when the woman in
question is sleeping down the hall from you.  And when you can hear the
sounds of her lovemaking six months a year.  Even harder to ignore are the
months she's sleeping alone.  Knowing she loves sex but is going without.
Knowing she's dreaming of cock.  And you see her every single day.

   And besides I knew my dad just had to be getting some in Sydney.  And
I'd convinced myself over the previous little while that daddy would be
much better off with me warming mom's bed when he was gone instead of some
sleazy homebreaker.  Well I'd almost convinced myself of that...

   "You're happy it's over with Brianne?" mom asked.  I snapped back from
my reminiscences.

   "I'll finally have some freedom, I might just like--" I started.

   "Boys and their freedom," mom immediately shot back, clearly coming down
on the woman's side of that eternal male/female debate.

   "You didn't think I was ready to settle down with her ...  marry her or
anything, did you?" I grimaced as I asked the question.

   The look on mom's face clearly showed that was the last thing she'd
wanted.  Her tone softened, "Of course not honey.  You're still young.  You
have years in front of you before you settle down." I smiled inwardly. 
This was coming from a girl who'd gotten pregnant and married at sixteen.

   "I definitely have to get more experience," I agreed with a smile.

   I could see that mom wasn't that keen on how I'd said 'get more
experience'.

   "Heck, I know just about zero about what girls think.  What they want.
About ..." I stopped for a second, looked shyly at mom, then added, "you
know, the sex stuff.  I read on the Internet where doctors now say boys
should experiment, try different things, different girls, before they try
to settle down.  It's good for them." It was mom's turn to grimace!

   My mother and I had never really discussed sex frankly before.  Oh I'd
gotten the sex talk from dad when I'd been thirteen or so.  And without
being too intrusive my parents had followed my various steps up the dating
ladder.  I'd had three pretty serious girlfriends over the preceding four
years and I'd never come right out and told either of my parents what
exactly I'd been doing with them.

   Mom a couple of years earlier had given me the 'how to treat girls
properly' talk.  But I'd never actually told her that Bri and I were doing
it and, even though I'm pretty sure she knew we were, she didn't ask.  And
I knew she had no inkling about the six others.

   "A relationship isn't just about sex young man," mom tried.

   "They show things on the Internet," I replied.  "Some of it's weird but
some of it is..." I left the sentence dangling.  My mom was no prude but I
knew she didn't like a lot of the stuff young teenagers could see on the
internet these days.  More than once I'd overheard her complaining about it
to dad or one of her friends.

   "You shouldn't be looking at that sort of stuff." We both knew what sort
of stuff she was referring to.  I didn't say anything for almost a minute
before I said my next words.  I hadn't practiced any of this beforehand but
instead had simply been waiting for this kind of opportunity to arrive.

   "Some of it excites me," I said softly.

   "What kind of stuff?"

   "I'm not sure I'll ever settle down like you and dad ...  not with one
woman."

   "Of course you will!" It was almost an order.  "Why wouldn't you?"

   "Perhaps it's better not to talk about it," I answered, knowing of
course mom would definitely want to talk about it.

   "Of course it's better to talk about it.  I'm your mother ...  Is
something wrong?" I could actually see her thoughts flashing across her
face considering possibilities.  Is my son gay?  Impossible!  Does he have
a physical problem?  Something wrong with his penis?  She was at sea.

   "Do you like sex?" I finally asked, breaking into her ponderings.

   I could see she had no idea how to respond.  I let her suffer a while
before going on."I think I'm abnormal.  I think I like it too much," I
admitted shyly.  "I think about it all the time.  Whenever I see a woman
I--"

   Relief flooded over mom's face.  I was okay!  "You're a boy ...  a
teenager ...  it's normal for you--" she started.

   I interrupted.  "But even when I'd be out with Bri, at a party or
somewhere, I'd still look at other girls."

   "Looking isn't doing," my mom said softly.  She figured the worst was
over.

   "You know I've slept with her, don't you?"

   "We'd guessed," mom answered after a moment's hesitation.

   Then I surprised her.  "You know she's not the only woman I've slept
with, don't you?"

   "She's not?" mom asked warily.

   "Three others," I answered, actually lowering my true count, knowing I
didn't want to send her completely over the edge, then I watched as the
shock registered on mom's face.

   "But...  but...but who?" mom stuttered.

   I wasn't going to answer that just yet!  "There are other things too."

   "Other things?" Mom couldn't hide her confusion.

   "Sex things.  Urges.  I can't tell you."

   "I'm your mother.  You can tell me anything." The words were the start
of an unchanging mantra that my sister and I had heard from her all of our
lives.

   "Anything!  Everything!  No one in the world loves you more than I do,"
I said, supplying the next lines all of us knew by heart.  Mom raised her
eyes in irritation but there was a wry smile on her lips.

   "So talk," she ordered.  But gently.  With love in her eyes.  I could
feel the warmth of her body against me as we sat side by side on the couch.


   I put an arm around her shoulder.  Then asked, ""Do you know what an
exhibitionist is?" I finally asked back.  Worry frowns immediately
reappeared on mom's beautiful, normally unlined, thirty-six year old face.

   "What?"

   "Showing yourself.  Letting people see you...  naked I mean...  I think
I might be one."

   "You are not!"

   "Have you ever gone to a nudist resort?" I was trying to keep mom off
balance.

   "A nudist resort?  You've been to a nudist resort?" Mom clearly wasn't
happy with the idea.

   "Not yet.  But I'm going to one this weekend."

   "To a nudist resort?"

   "For the holiday." And as I told her I realised I was going to talk her
into going with me.  It hadn't been my plan to rush into this.  Instead I'd
envisioned a slow seduction that might take months.  But I couldn't stop
the vision of my mother and I walking naked down a crowded beach from
forming in my mind.  Of being watched by people who'd never guess we were
mother and son.  People instead who'd look at our naked bodies -- men
wanting to fuck mom while their wife's and girlfriend's eyes hungrily took
in my penis.

   How the heck was I going to convince her to join me I wondered as I
watched my mother's face?

   I laughed again.  Mom frowned.  "They have a special celebration on the
fourth.  A bike ride.  A barbeque."

   "Who do?"

   "American nudists.  It's a World Holiday really, not just an American
one," I answered.  "Actually the whole weekend's a holiday.  It's going to
be celebrated in over one hundred and ninety-three countries," I added.  I
just made up the country figure; who the heck knows how many countries
there are in the world these days?

   "Where?"

   No answers for mom quite yet.  "Did you ever do it when you were young?"
Mom started to shake her head no.  "You never even skinny dipped with your
friends ...  like when you were young?"

   "That was different, we were just little girls running around in the
dark." I'd guessed right.  "There were no boys ..."

   "You weren't excited?" Of course she'd been.  Who wouldn't have been?  I
could see mom didn't want to answer.  I pressed on.  "I'll bet you were. 
I'll bet you all wondered if there were boys watching you from the
shadows."

   "We did not."

   "What about you and dad?  You guys must have gone to a nude beach or
something somewhere on one of your vacations.  Heck, it's pretty common
knowledge that everyone goes naked on the beaches in Australia," I said
confidently.  I had no idea if my words were true but they sounded good.

   "We haven't ...  and I've never been to Australia." I couldn't miss the
touch of complaint in mom's voice.  I realised that she too must have
wondered why dad had never taken her Down Under.

   "Dad must have.  In Australia I mean." I could see mom didn't like the
idea.

   "Hah!  We can't even get your father to go to the seashore when he's
home." Another small complaint!

   "Well then I'll let you come with me this weekend."

   "You are not going anywhere this weekend!" Mom used her mother's 'obey
my order or else' voice.  It had been years she'd used that tone with me. I
had her on the defensive!

   "You must have thought about it from time to time.  Wondered what it
would be like."

   "I never have!  Do you think I'd wander around naked and let a bunch of
perverts see my body?  Drool over me."

   In answer I reached over and grabbed my computer from the desk and
clicked open the Onancock Nudist Society's July 4th 2011 Bike Ride page. 
Ninety percent of the page was taken up by a picture of a group of naked
bicyclists.  A shot from the 2010 bike ride.

   Then I started clicking through the slide show.

   Mom couldn't hide her interest even while trying to show her disapproval
of the pictures she was seeing by throwing out comments as the slideshow
ran:

   "We shouldn't watch stuff like this."

   "Look at her!"

   "He's got to be seventy!" Said disdainfully as a picture of an old coot
with his balls hanging halfway down his legs flashed by.  I continued the
slideshow.

   "That's gross!" A penis painted red, white and blue.

   "They should shut down this site!"

   "What would their parents say if they knew?" mom finally asked as a
picture of three good looking, college aged, nude bikers appeared on the
screen.  I stopped the slideshow.

   "You can't recognise them...  they're all painted, disguised, no one
would know them," I answered as both mom and I examined the six bodies on
the screen.  Three great looking girls, three hanging cocks.  Mind you none
was as big as mine.

   "Still--"

   "So, you want to come with me this weekend?" I asked it innocently.  A
cheeky grin on my lips.

   "You ...  Are ...  Not ...  Going ...  Anywhere ...  This ...  Weekend!"
Back to the Darth Mother voice!

   That just about ended our conversation for the night.  A couple of
minutes later mom was standing up and ready to leave my room.  I knew her
mind must be spinning.  I let her get to the door of my room before yelling
out, "love you mom."

   She turned back.  And after giving me the evil eye for a second she
walked back over to me and gave me a big hug.  It was a good hug.  A hold
on while you squeeze kind of hug.  And then, just as we were about to break
apart I gave my mother a kiss on the cheek.  A second one, one she assumed
was going to land on her other cheek, just accidently --NOT- landed smack
dab on her lips.  Her moist lips.

   "Sorry," I mumbled, feigning embarrassment when I pulled my lips away
from her.  A blush sprang onto her cheeks.  I let her get fifteen feet back
down the hall before I whistled.

   She turned.  "What?"

   "Are you sure you don't have a secret boyfriend?  Those pj's show more
than even the bicyclists were showing."

   "They do not!  Now stop your teasing," she denied.  Then stamped her
foot.

   "You look great mom." I said it softly and simply.  There was no sexual
tone in my voice.  Just admiration.

   Now really blushing, mom said nothing until a soft, "thanks honey,"
escaped her lips.  Then she turned and hurried away.  But I wasn't quite
finished.

   "Maybe this weekend I'll find out that I'm not really a nudist.  I'll
get it out of my system, maybe we both will," I said to her disappearing
back.  Mom didn't answer.

   I fucked my hand that night.  And guess who I was thinking of when my
cock started to spurt out my sperm?

   Lying in bed afterwards I wondered who mom was dreaming of.  I wondered
if my dream mom was walking naked down some beach.  And if I was next to
her...

   Chapter 2 -- Nightime...  June 30th 2011

   I woke up the next morning knowing that I was going to be able to
convince mom to go with me.  I was absolutely certain of it.  Mind you I
knew it wasn't going to be easy.  I'd woken early and I left the house
before mom had gotten up.  And stayed away all day.  I wanted her to stew a
bit before I gave her my 'nude beach' sales spiel.

   I bought two wigs that day.  Some body paint.  Some weird sunglasses --
a man's pair and a woman's.  A wide brimmed hat.  A beard.  Fake
moustaches. More than enough stuff to disguise two nude bike riders.  To
disguise a mother and her son.

   It was just after eleven at night when I finally got home.  I'd been in
my room for only about five minutes before mom appeared in my doorway.  She
found me sitting at my desk facing my computer.  All I had on were a pair
of boxer shorts.  I'd been waiting for her.  I'd already started up my
laptop and opened the home page of the Onancock Nudist Society.

   Mom didn't knock before entering my room.  "I want to talk to you," she
imperially directed as she marched through the door that I'd purposely left
open.  When I looked up I couldn't miss the fire in her eyes.  She'd
clearly been saving it up all day.  She didn't even noticed my state of
undress.

   "Good," I said amiably, "I'll need your help." I knew I had to get her
on the defensive right away.

   "For what?" she snapped.

   "My disguise."

   "You are not going anywhere this weekend young man!"

   I didn't answer her.  Instead I stood up and then grabbed the wig I'd
chosen for myself from the desk top.  She said nothing as I plopped it
haphazardly on my head.  I put on the shades.  "Help me with the
moustache," I invited as I geld out the big drooping moustache out to her.

   "You look stupid.  The wig isn't even straight," she admonished even as
she reached out her hands to adjust the wig.

   "The moustache is sticky on the back, you have to--"

   "I'm pretty sure I can figure out how to put a party moustache on young
man," she said sarcastically.  And then she did just that.  I stepped back
from mom the second I was 'moustached'.  "Ta da!" I said as I gave her a
muscle builder pose.  Mom laughed.  Which was good.

   A second later I was in front of the wall mirror.  "I told you, no one
would recognise me in a million years."

   "I would," mom answered.

   "Here, take my picture," I near ordered as I grabbed my camera from my
desk.  Two minutes later I'd downloaded the picture she'd taken onto my
laptop.  The guy staring back at me from the screen could have been
anybody! "And remember, I'll have paint on my face ...  and on my chest ...
and on my..."

   "Jimmy!" A plea.  Full of frustration.  But also resignation.  Next was
the hard part.

   "Your turn now," I said as I turned back to my desk and grabbed the wig
I'd chosen for mom.

   "I am not--"

   I plunked the blond wig down on her head.  It was one of those hippy
style ones.  The long, soft blond hairs almost reached her ass.  "You
always wanted to be a blond," I said with a smile.

   "I did not."

   "They do say blonds have more fun," I said as I slipped the oversized
sunglasses onto her face.  A second later a large, straw brimmed had was on
her head.

   "JAMES TAYLOR!"

   "Look," I said as I turned her to face the mirror.  Mom couldn't keep
the smile off her lips nor stifle her laugh!  "And when you've got a daub
of red paint on the end of your nose ...  and on your ..."

   "I ...  am ...  not ...  going ...  nude ...  biking ...  with ...  you!
Is that clear young man?"

   Which might sound like a rejection to most people but it didn't to me.
Without her realising it, her words had already conceded my participation.
It was only left to convince her.

   Which is what I attempted to do over the next two hours.  Back and forth
we went.  But I was not going to be denied!

   "We never do anything together anymore...

   "I'll be leaving home soon ...

   "The bike ride will just take an hour, then we'll have the whole weekend
to do other things...

   "It's the Fourth of July...  you're supposed to celebrate...

   "They've got some great beaches down there...  nature trails...

   "What are you going to do this weekend anyway?  Stay here alone?

   "You shouldn't leave me alone with these nudists...  you never know what
they might ..."

   It was the last argument that ultimately convinced mom.  I'd roused her
motherly protective instincts.  She was definitely not going to leave me
all alone in the clutches of perverted nudists!  And so, just after
two-thirty in the morning it was decided -- she'd accompany me to Onancock.
We'd have a weekend by the seashore.  Maybe take one of the local ferries.
Eat some fresh seafood.  Relax.  Go bird watching.  Celebrate the holiday.
Of course she was not going to participate in any nude bike ride.  Period.
Unstated was her hope that she'd be able to convince me not to either.

   I started masturbating the second mom was out of my room that night.  I
used mom's blond wig.  But when I finally exploded I took great care not to
get one drop of my sperm onto it!

   Chapter 3 -- Onancock ...  July 1st 2011

   "I'm not going on any stupid bike ride and that's final." We were only a
block away from home and mom had already started.

   "I know, I know," I agreed, keeping my eyes on the road.

   "So why'd you bring both bikes?" she demanded.  Both moms and my bikes
were riding on the rack hanging on the back of the car.

   "I showed you last night.  It's beautiful down there.  The nude bike
ride is just for a couple of hours.  Then you and I can explore.  We'll
have three days."

   We talked and argued as the miles rolled past.  Many of the same
arguments we'd had the last two nights.

   "I still don't understand why you want to be nude in front of
strangers."

   "You've never wanted to?"

   "I'm married.  You're dad..."

   "I'll bet you dreamed of doing it.  Last night or the night before," I
challenged.  I was pretty sure that after our talks of the last two nights
that something must have invaded her dreams.

   "I didn't," mom denied but with little conviction.

   ****

   We got to the hotel just after ten that night.  The room had only one
bed in it.  A king size one.  Which is exactly what I`d ordered over the
Internet.  Of course I didn`t tell mom that.  I even pretended to call the
front desk when we discovered it.  And then I had a pretend conversation
with the dead line.

   "They`re completely sold out.  Due to the bike ride and the tourists and
everything, we can't get another room," I explained to mom once I'd hung
up. "I'll sleep on the couch".  She wasn't happy but what could she do.  We
unpacked.  I put both our disguises and the paint cans on the desk in full
sight.

   The bar/restaurant was jammed when we wandered down some twenty minutes
later to grab a bite before turning in.  And it turned out just about every
single person in the room was there for the bike ride.  Nudists who were
dressed.  And excited.  The room was alive.

   "I don't believe it," mom muttered as we made our way through the
throng. Then added, "and they seem like normal people."

   "They are," I countered.

   "Perverts," mom hissed back as we found one of the last free tables.  A
minute later, another couple, in their thirties, asked if they could join
us.  Then, seconds later another couple grabbed the last two chairs at our
table.  In their twenties they introduced themselves as Colin and Judy
McLeod.  From Raleigh.  It was their first nude bike ride.  They'd been on
nude beaches before of course.  They were so excited.  And Judy, a short
brunette with big tits, was hot!

   As they continued to gush out their history it suddenly hit me that mom
and I had no story prepared.  I couldn't tell them our real names and I
sure as hell wasn't going to tell them who mom was.  Quickly glancing over
at mom as the second couple, the Clifford's from Northern Virginia, started
to tell us their story, I saw that the same realisation had hit her.  I
mouthed over an 'it's okay' to her and pointed to myself, trying to let her
know that I'd handle it.

   When the Clifford's had finished their story all eyes turned toward me.
And I could see they were curious.  The age difference between mom and I
had clearly piqued some interest at the table.  I decided not to disappoint
them.

   "I'm Chris," I started, using my middle name even as I continued to try
to come up with a story.  "I'm a sophomore at Virginia Tech ... 
engineering ...  chemical engineering.  From Alexandria ...  I mean I grew
up there," I said.  My obvious nervousness was palpable and the others at
the table could sense it -- they were hanging on my every word.  They knew
something was coming.

   "I'm living in Blacksburg now of course.  Mrs.  Tyler is too ...  I mean
Bonnie is too," I said as I let a blush spread across my face.  I'd used
the Missus on purpose.  Eyes opened wide.  Four sets of eyes flicked
quickly from my face to moms and then back.  I definitely had their
attention!  I spun out my story slowly, giving my audience just enough
details to let their imaginations have a field day.  And I drew mom into
the conversation, making her pick up threads I'd started.  Things like:

   "I met Mrs.  Tyler at the Student Union.  She was waiting for her
husband, remember Bonnie?"

   "I couldn't believe she was married.  You weren't wearing your ring that
day were you?"

   "Then my professor invited some of us over for dinner and who do I find
he's married to?"

   "He left Bonnie alone all the time -- going away on seminars and stuff.
Didn't he honey?"

   " Bonnie's husband treats her like a slave.  You should hear some of her
stories?"

   Of course the Clifford's and the McLeod's wanted to hear the stories.

   Once I'd started and mom hadn't contradicted me immediately she had no
choice.  She played along.  In fact she started to get creative herself. 
We stayed in the bar til after midnight.  Met probably fifty people.  We
definitely made an impression.  And when we finally left at least ten
people told us they were looking forward to riding with us the next day. 
The college kid and the professor's wife had certainly made an impression!

   ****

   "I should kill you," mom growled after we'd gotten back to the room.

   "What did you want me to say?  My mother and I, she's Sarah Taylor, from
Baltimore by the way, we just figured we'd come down here to Onancock and
ride around nude for a day or two.  Some mother/son bonding."

   "I shouldn't have come."

   "Did you see their faces when I told them that your husband was one of
my professors and was out of town at a seminar for the weekend?" I asked,
unable to hold back a big smile.

   "They thought I was a slut," mom complained.

   "No they didn't." And the other two couples hadn't.  Nor had the ten or
so other people who'd heard our story during the time we'd socialized in
the bar.  In fact, the hearing of our secret had seemed to unleash a flood
of confessions.  Nudists are not a shy bunch!

   "In fact the Clifford's said they'd pick us up tomorrow morning.  They
want to ride with us."

   "I'm not going and that's final."

   "But--"

   "No buts young man." I started to open my mouth.  "I said no buts," mom
instructed as she grabbed her sleeping stuff and marched off into the
bathroom to change.  I smiled to myself; I'd noticed she'd brought one of
her 'special present from daddy' nightgowns.  One of her sexiest.  A
subconscious message to her son?

   I was lying on the couch in my boxers when she finally came out of the
bathroom twenty minutes later.  All she had on was a shimmering, pink satin
negligee.  She floated across the room.  My cock jumped!

   She looked at me as she pulled back the sheet on the king size bed. 
"You can't sleep there like that," she said as she sat down on the bed
facing me.

   "I'm okay, I'll just use the can first...  brush my teeth.  This is
fine," I said as I walked toward the bathroom.  Mom was sitting up in bed
when I came out five minutes later.  The sheet on the other side of the bed
from her was still pulled back.

   "I'm okay here, promise," I said as I sat down on the couch.

   "You don't even have a blanket," mom answered.  "There's lots of room."

   "You sure?" I asked dubiously.

   "It's a king size bed." A touch of mom's irritation had crept into her
voice.

   "Well, I guess," I said tentatively, my misgivings clear.  Faked
misgivings!

   "C'mon, we don't have all night," she prodded as I stood for seconds
looking undecided at the side of the bed.

   "Okay," I finally agreed as I sat down on the edge of the bed.  "Besides
if we talk much more you'll never get any sleep.  And now that you're going
on the ride tomorrow you'll definitely need to be fully rested," I teased
as I slid under the sheet.  My cock was awake!

   "I am not!"

   "You're famous mom, everyone will be looking for you tomorrow."

   "They're all perverts."

   "And guess who they all want to see in her birthday suit?"

   "Well they aren't going to," mom pledged.

   "You promised," I teased, then added, "you know mom, that Mr.  McLeod
guy asked me if we'd like to get together with he and his wife after the
ride.  He wanted to know if we were into things like that."

   "Like what?" Mom knew!

   "I think they're swingers," I whispered.

   "We should go home."

   "I want Mrs.  Clifford to see me, see me naked," I answered.

   "Why?" my mother asked.

   "I don't know."

   Nothing happened between my mother and I that night.  Oh I woke up with
a hard-on just after three, an erection that was actually sticking out of
the slit in my shorts and poking against my mother's bum, but I quickly
rolled away before she woke or I inadvertently spermed her.  But all the
same it was pretty exciting sleeping in the same bed with her.  Everything
was working out perfectly...

   Chapter 4 -- Nude Biking ...  July 2nd 2011

   We eventually woke.  In fact we both woke up at the exact same time just
after ten-thirty in the morning.  A car alarm, shrilling loudly somewhere
outside, was the culprit.  We were facing each other when we woke.  Our
legs were entwined.  Our faces were inches apart.

   For what seemed like minutes we watched each other without speaking. 
Eventually mom disengaged herself from me and slipped out of the bed we'd
shared.  I ordered breakfast from the room service menu while mom showered.
Then we ate a leisurely breakfast.  We didn't talk much.

   Mrs.  Clifford, first name Fiona, thirty-two years old, knocked on our
door at just after twelve-thirty.  She was already prepared for the ride.
I'd just hopped out of the shower.

   "Morning you two," she welcomed as she advanced past mom and into the
room.  Her breasts, midsized pointy ones and bare except for the painted
designs on them, jiggled delightfully as she walked.  And she caught me
checking them out and didn't look displeased.  She was wearing shorts
though!

   She turned back to mom and asked, "Have you chosen a design yet?"

   "A design?"

   "For your body painting.  We've got to get moving."

   "I'm not sure ...  I'm tired this morning ...  I don't think-"

   "Oh no you don't.  Bonnie, you are not backing out after coming this
far. I'll make you look great - promise," Fiona exclaimed brightly as her
eyes traveled around our room.  They hesitated over our rumpled bed before
moving on to the desk and the cans of paint on top of it.  It was time for
me to chime in.

   "I saw some neat ones from last year's ride on the Onancock site," I
said as I reached for my computer.  A second later I had a picture open. 
"I thought maybe something like this for Bonnie," I said to Fiona who had
moved over to my side.  "Except maybe you could add a red swirl on each one
under the yellow circles.  I'm not much of an artist though.  Maybe you've
got a better idea."

   "I told you last night I'd help." Looking over Fiona's shoulder I saw
mom's eyes open in surprise.  I hadn't actually told her that I'd asked
Mrs. Clifford to help.

   "I don't think--" mom started again but Fiona was having none of it. 
She'd already moved to mom's side and was reaching for the buttons that ran
down the front of my mother's shirt.

   "I don't like biking," mom whined softly, "I'm not in shape for it." As
she talked her shirt slipped down off her shoulders.  A second later mom's
bra followed.

   "They're beautiful," our new friend enthused as she took a second to
contemplate the rounded surfaces she was about to paint.  "And Bonnie, with
legs like yours you could ride home to Blacksburg," Fiona scoffed as she
undid the button on mom's shorts.  I got the distinct impression that Fiona
swung both ways.

   Mom's tits, as I'd known they would be, were outstanding!  Bigger and
rounder than Fiona's they still rode high and firm on her chest in spite of
her being in her thirties and the mother of two.

   Meanwhile I, who'd just gotten out of the shower when Fiona had knocked
on the door, was standing with a towel around my waist.  I had nothing else
on.  I immediately got an erection as I watched Fiona examine mom's
breasts. And it didn't take either of them long to notice it.  My towel
tent was at full erection!

   "You're lucky," Fiona whispered to my mom as her eyes measured me.  Mom,
who caught me looking at Fiona, thought the erection had been inspired by
Mrs.  Clifford.

   Mom's shorts and panties were removed next.  "I have to see the whole
canvas before I start," Mrs.  Clifford explained to both of us through
mom's protests.  My mother had a neat, perfect triangle of dark, trimmed
hair at the base of her stomach.

   "They don't match your wig," Fiona said with a giggle as she lightly ran
her hands through mom's curls.  My cock started to bob up and down.  He was
going crazy.  Then she said, "I'll fix that!"

   She did!  She spent the next twenty minutes painting my mother.  I
watched.  Enjoyed.  And each time mom's eyes sought out mine she caught me
enjoying it.  Fiona, a very observant young wife, didn't miss a thing
either.

   And then it was my turn.  Mom at first turned away when Fiona uncovered
me.  But immediately turned back when she heard Fiona's appreciative
whistle.  I was erect.  Fiona took her time painting me.  And she wasn't
shy in touching me while she worked.  Or commenting on the impressive size
of her 'canvas'.  I could see that mom wanted to complain but she somehow
held her words.  She watched silently as another woman fondled her son.

   We looked good when we were done.  Both of us.  Seriously!  I got Fiona
to take pictures of us.  Again I could see mom wanted to argue when I
suggested it but then simply went along with it.  She wanted Fiona out of
our room as fast as possible!

   But our artist left us with one parting shot.  A tentatively offered
invitation.  "If you guys want to get together ...  after the ride I mean
...  with John and I..." She took a good hard look at my cock as she let
the words slip through her lips.  o

   "It's our first weekend alone together ...  Bonnie's and mine," I
answered gently.  "Maybe next--"

   "Of course," our body painter agreed as she backed towards the door.

   ****

   "She wanted us to ...  to ...," my mom couldn't say the words.

   "She's nice."

   "She's a slut."

   "You look beautiful," I teased as I turned my attention to mom's
breasts.

   ****

   The hotel wasn't on the official 'nude day' bike ride route but the
fifty or so nude bikers who'd stayed at the hotel had decided the night
before that they would bike en masse to the official starting point.

   Even though mom was painted, had her oversized glasses on, and was
sporting a wig and hat it was not easy to get her out of the room.

   "Please Jimmy," she pled as I tried to shoo her out at the appointed
hour.

   "No one will ever know ...  I promise ...  here look," I encouraged as I
edged her in front of the mirror.

   "I know who it is.  And what if people take pictures ...  someone could
recognise me.  I'll be on the Internet.  What if your father ever finds
out?"

   "You can't back out now," I pronounced.  And, after a little more
coaxing, she didn't.  In fact, when she finally walked out the door of our
room and stepped in front of the some fifty nudists who were milling in the
courtyard, she was walking tall with a wide smile on her lips.  In fact she
looked like she was having fun as she circled around returning the
greetings of the assembled throng.

   Mom, whatever her doubts and fears, wasn't going to let others see them.
Mom had always taught sis and me that you should face life head on.  She
lived up to her mantra that day.  She was a real trooper...

   ****

   It was fun!  The ride took us right down the Main Street of Onancock
before winding a couple of miles through the dunes to the beach.  The main
street was lined with locals and tourists who'd heard about the event. 
Perhaps two or three thousand people watched us.  They smiled.  Joked. 
Laughed.  Pointed.  Took pictures.  There were even a few catcalls from a
group of teenage boys.  But all in all it was a friendly group of watchers.


   And we, the nude bikers, loved it.  Loved the attention.  And the
camaraderie of our companions.  The teasing.  The joshing.  The sexual
innuendo.  Real life had been suspended.  We were like kids at a circus.

   With all the stops and starts it took over an hour to reach the beach.
At the beach we had hot dogs, hamburgers and beer.  Talked a lot. 
Socialised.  Mom's almost continuous smile clearly advertised how she felt.
Men, lots of men, paid attention to her.  And she, who'd never done
anything like it before in her life, basked in the attention.  She couldn't
hide her enjoyment.  Mom, against all odds, was a nudist!  Was it possible?

   And, after our group had gotten a few beers in them, all of our last
restraints disappeared.  Judy McLeod, who at one point approached with an
empty hot dog bun in her hand, her large, married tits perfectly
highlighted with blue halos, made a rude comment about who's penis would
fit perfectly in it.  "I'm hungry," she purred in my ear.  Her husband,
three feet away, didn't seem perturbed by her words.

   "Oh no you don't, he's mine tonight," mom said possessively.  She wasn't
going to let her little boy out of her site.  Nude biking was one thing,
married swingers was quite another.

   I think that, if the whole lot of us hadn't been scheduled to ride back
over the same route we'd taken in going out, an orgy just might have
occurred that afternoon.  A wild, sexual freefall.  But the riders were
still just sober enough and the ride organisers were just bossy enough to
organise the return ride.  Most everyone made it.  Mainly because they were
all looking forward to the naked Fourth of July nude dance scheduled for
the evening.

   Chapter 5 -- Mom...  July 2nd 2011

   My mother started to complain the second we were safely back inside our
room.  Of course I wasn't going to let her get away with that!

   "You loved it," I scoffed at her first words.

   "I did not!"

   "And no wonder, you were the most beautiful woman on the ride or on the
beach."

   "I was not."

   "Admit it.  It was fun."

   "It wasn't!"

   "You loved all the attention." We both had and we both knew it.  There
is something almost inexplicably exciting about showing yourself publicly
after having spent your whole life being told that public nudity is wrong.
And when your mother is at your side the whole experienced becomes surreal
and exhilarating.  And I knew that mom had felt the same.

   "Didn't!  And now I'm sore."

   "Sore where?" I asked.

   "Between my ...  down ...  oh forget it." Mom's pussy was sore?  From
the cycling?  "And I'm all sticky," she complained as she ran a finger
across her breast and the paint that covered it.  Paint that was now gooey
and uncomfortable.

   "I'll wash you," I said, then took her hand and before she knew what was
going on, started to lead her to the bathroom.  "And put lotion on your
sore parts."

   "You can't," she protested when she figured out what I was suggesting. I
walked her into the large, marble floored shower.

   "And who's going to wash your butt and make sure every single drop of
blue and red and yellow paint is removed from your beautiful body?" I asked
as I turned on the water.

   "I'm your mother." But her words were a statement, not a rejection.

   "No, you're Mrs.  Bonnie Tyler, a poor neglected professor's wife who's
decided to give a remedial course in body painting to one of her husband's
engineering students," I answered as I started to lather up mom's back.

   "You're incorrigible.  And a very bad boy," she admonished even though
she allowed me to continue.  Actually we both were bad.  An eighteen year
old son and his thirty-six year old mother, both naked except for some
paint, yours truly with an erection, standing together under the warm water
drizzling down on us from the multiple shower heads, still pretending that
this had nothing to do with sex.  We both knew exactly what was going to
happen but neither of us were even going to mention it.

   The paint I'd bought for our disguises turned out to be significantly
more difficult to remove that either of us had anticipated.  It wasn't
quite as water soluble as advertised.  Which turned out to be a pretty good
thing.

   I spent five minutes clearing mom's back and butt.  And I enjoyed it. 
Especially her ass!  The highlight was sliding a soapy finger down her
crack and then slipping its first joint inside her anus.  She groaned.

   "Don't."

   "There's some paint just there," I whispered in her ear as I moved my
finger inside her.

   "Is there?  Are you sure?"

   Mother did my back and bum next.  She took a more businesslike approach
than I had, less caressing and more rubbing.  Still I couldn't help
thinking as she worked on the cheeks of my rear end that she did slow her
hands down as she'd run them over my ass.  My cock of course was huge!

   Mom's breasts!  They were next.  And proved very hard to wash.  Or
that's what I told mom as my fingers explored every inch of her rounded
hills.  I took extra time on her nipples.  In fact her left one proved
particularly troublesome.

   "Honey..." A whispered groan as I twirled the hard nub between my
fingers.

   "Almost got it all," I answered as I gave the beautiful bud one last
squeeze.  My hand slid off her tit and then slowly moved down across her
stomach.  "But I'm afraid this is going to be much more difficult," I said
as my fingers moved across her pubic mound.  "Especially the hair."

   "Don't!  I'll do it.  Please honey," my mother begged even as one of my
fingers found her clit.

   "I may have to shave you ...  I don't think there's going to be any
other way to get that pink paint out of your hair," I said as I ruffled the
hairs that formed her pubic triangle.

   I didn't shave mom that afternoon.  I did however give her pubic region
a darn good cleaning.  I definitely didn't miss any spots.  The skin inside
of the lips of mom's labia was pink when I finished but not from the paint.
I did introduce one soap lathered finger inside my mother.  And even as she
tried to protest her son's intrusion I made sure, by repeated in and out
movements, that not a speck of paint remained inside her.

   And then it was my turn again.  Mom needed two hands to clean the barber
pole paint job that Fiona had painted on my prick.  "You have an erection,"
were her only words as she grasped it.  It wasn't a complaint, simply an
observation.

   "They're easier to clean that way," I mumbled back.  I was getting
seriously excited.  And, from the way mom's body had reacted when I'd had
my finger inside of her, I knew she was too.

   Somehow I didn't ejaculate under mom's ministrations.

   But the second after we'd stumbled out of the shower I engulfed her in
the large, soft, white towel the hotel had provided and then lifted her up
into my arms.

   Seconds later I'd deposited her on her back on the middle of our king
size bed.

   No words were said as I climbed up between her legs.  No recriminations.
No denials.  We were both too far gone.

   My mother simply watched me as I moved my penis towards her opening. 
"Hurry," she demanded as she spread her knees even farther apart, giving me
a moist, pink target that was impossible to miss.  I didn't!  I smashed
inside her.

   My penis went crazy!  It had been waiting for this from the second Fiona
had started to paint him eight hours earlier.

   Mom screamed as I filled her.  I pulled completely out.  Smashed back
inside.  Her legs curled around my back.  "Fuck me ...  fuck mommy ... 
hurry baby ...  fuck mommy with your big cock," she demanded as she
thrashed under me.  I was yelling.  I don't think either of us had any idea
what we were saying.

   We were somewhere else.  That first fuck had nothing to do with our
mother/son relationship; instead it was a primitive coupling of two hungry
animals.  I came quickly; spurting out strand after strand of thick, ropey
cream inside her.  But her body, in spite of my premature ejaculation, was
ready, and met my cock's gushing spray with its own wet, pulsing orgasm.

   We fell apart, then lay gasping and panting side by side.  Still no
words.  Finally I leaned over and started to eat her.  Her mouth.  Her
lips. Her breasts.  Nipples.  Ass.  Stomach.  Toes.  I hungrily moved my
mouth over her.  Used my tongue and lips.  Licked her.  Her hand found my
hardness..  Circled me.  Squeezed me.  Pulled me.

   "Fuck me ...  hurry ...  Jimmy please," she demanded.  I turned my
mother over.  Then took her like a dog might his bitch.  Biting her ears
and slapping her butt as my cock plunged again and again deep into her
cunt. This was sex at its most primitive level.  It was what we both wanted
and needed.  Our growls, our screams, our groans reverberated around the
room.

   She cleaned me when we finished that second time.  Licked me.  Sucked
me.

   When I penetrated her for the third time her legs were up in the air and
resting on my shoulders.  The angle was changed.  I was even deeper inside
her than I had been with my doggy style penetration.

   "It's too big," she cried as I pounded my piston inside her.  But then
she urged me on, yelling, "harder ...  hurry honey," as I felt her orgasm
spasm through her.

   Hungry animals.  That's the only way you can describe how we acted and
performed that night.  When we finally fell asleep an hour and two more
ejaculations later we still hadn't exchanged a coherent sentence.  That was
for another day.

   Chapter 6 -- Beach ...  July 3rd and 4th 2011

   Mom still put on the wig the next day.  And the shades.  And the
drooping hat.  We didn't want recognisable pictures of us to be floating
around out there on the Internet.  But there was no paint on her body when
she slipped out of her clothes at about one o'clock in the afternoon on the
nudist beach three miles out of town.  There were no spectators that second
day.  Instead it was nudists only.  Almost a thousand other nudists were
there besides us.

   The bike ride had been more show for the spectators.  Performance art.
The beach was for us.  Us?  Yes I was a nudist.  I'd known it the second
I'd stepped outside the day before.  Mom wasn't ready to concede the same
thing out loud but we both knew she was too.  And as we spent that first
day together on the beach she couldn't hide it.

   She strode proudly down the beach as I led her, almost prancing as she
brazenly displayed herself to the watching crowd.

   I'd fucked my mother the night before!  Repeatedly.  And every single
person we passed on the beach that afternoon knew it.  They could sense it.
Our bodies screamed out the news.  Of course they didn't know we were
mother and son, instead we were repeatedly greeted by friendly greetings -
'Hi Bonnie, hi Chris'.  Everyone seemed to know us.

   They all looked at my cock.  The women clearly envious of my mother, the
men perhaps jealous.  They watched mom.  Lusted for her.  Raped her with
their eyes.  She loved it!

   We didn't discuss what we'd done the night before that day on the beach.
We both knew it was still too raw a wound.  Instead we talked about what we
were seeing in front of us.  The nudists.  Their reaction to us.

   "You guys didn't come to the dance," Fiona complained at one point.  She
and her husband had just plunked themselves down on the sand next to us.  I
checked her out.  She spread her legs even farther apart when she saw where
I was looking.

   "I was a little tired," mom started.

   Fiona laughed.  "Tired?  You sounded pretty wide awake when I knocked on
your door last night."

   Mom blushed.  "You knocked on our door?" I asked.

   "You probably didn't hear me over all the screaming and shouting," my
favourite painter answered.  Then she whispered something to her husband.
They both laughed.  One word from us and they would have followed us
anywhere.  Mom and I didn't say that word.

   I loved all the attention.  I loved looking at all the naked women.  I
loved them looking at me.  I loved displaying my mother, showing her to
others while knowing only I was going to be fucking her.  Every gesture I
made that day announced to the watching crowd, 'back off, this is my woman
and my woman alone.'

   ****

   "You had the biggest cock on the beach today." I looked down, seeing
mom's tongue flicking over the end of my cockhead.

   "No I didn't, it's not really that big," I denied.

   "It's almost too big," she added, then slid her lips over the crimson
head.  For minutes I groaned silently as her tongue and lips slowly brought
me towards ejaculation.  But then I stopped her before she'd finished me
off by pulling her up by the hair.

   "I wanted to taste you," she complained even as I pushed my saliva
covered cock inside my mother's well oiled sleeve.

   "Later," I promised as I started to move my hips.

   And later she did taste me.  In fact mom got a good sized mouthful of
warm cum.  And then she licked her lips and murmured, 'it's so yummy',
after she'd swallowed every drop.

   Much later I shaved mom after we'd showered.  There were still pink
flecks of paint in her pubic hair so I just shaved it off.  Then took
pictures of my finished handiwork.

   "I look like a little girl," she complained as she held the lips of her
sex apart.

   "The men on the beach will love it," I promised.

   "They will?" She was watching herself in the bathroom mirror.  In answer
I lifted her up and plopped her down on the marble top that held the sink.
Then I ate her.  Bald pussy.  Bald mommy pussy.  Then, when I'd brought her
to a shuddering climax, I stood up and fucked her again.

   It's never been better," my mother whispered in my ear hours later just
as we were falling asleep.  There'd only been one other man in her life. 
Her message was clear.

   Listen people might deny it.  Or call you a pervert.  They might say
it's wrong or that it's illegal but I can tell you this -- there is no
better sexual feeling in the world than making love with your mother.  Of
sticking your cock deep into the sleeve that you slipped out of and into
the world so many years earlier.  There is a heightening of every sexual
touch that is almost indescribable.  We both knew it.  And we accepted it
implicitly.  There was no need to discuss it -- it just was.

   ****

   We packed up the car the next morning before heading to the beach.  And
yes, our male nudist friends definitely liked mom's shaven look.  And she
let them look.  All they wanted.  But while she let the men admire her,
while she let them rape her repeatedly again and again with their eyes, she
never left my side.

   Before leaving we did one last public act.  Standing in just over waist
high wter we made love.  We certainly weren't the only couple that fucked
in the waves that weekend but I'm pretty sure our performance was the most
widely noted.

   And we were aware of all the eyes upon us as we did it.  In fact knowing
we were being watched just heightened our enjoyment.  A mother and son out
fucking in public!  We were breaking every taboo.

   We left just after four that afternoon.  But not before a score of women
came over and hugged me and gave me a parting kiss.  Pushed their breasts
into me.  Whispered messages into my ear.  Fiona even gave my cock a quick
squeeze before releasing me.

   Mom meanwhile got mauled by all the women's boyfriends and husbands.  I
think she enjoyed it as much as I had.

   Chapter 7 -- Home ...  Dad ...  August 2011

   The day we'd got home from the beach we didn't just stop.  We didn't
automatically revert to the relationship we'd had before.  How could we
have?  The world had changed.

   Instead we simply settled in as lovers.  I moved into my father and
mother's bedroom.  We didn't even discuss it.  It just happened.  Nor as
the days passed did we talk about what we were doing.  Or why we were doing
it.  Or that it was wrong.  We didn't talk about my father.  Or my sister.
We didn't talk about the future.  We just lived day to day.

   We made love.  Yes love.  We were no longer the animals of the first few
nights as we settled into our lovemaking.  Oh we still fucked.  But we
interspersed soft touches, gentle caresses with the urgent mauling.  It got
better.  If that was possible.  We were Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.

   But we also resumed our lives.  We both got up and went to work every
morning -- me to the job dad had got for me with one of his manufacturing
clients and mom at the real estate office she'd worked at for over five
years.  Of course we'd make love before we left for those jobs, either
before our morning shower or during it.

   I saw my buddies.  Played sports.  Went to summer parties.  Mom saw her
friends.  Continued to do her volunteer work at the library.  Life went on.

   But we also ended every day twisted together on the soft sheets of my
parents king size bed, our bodies sweating and our chests heaving as we
slowly came down from our orgasms.  A mother shuddering, panting,
trembling, sweating, oozing out her juices as she lay in the arms of her
son.

   I took my mother's bum our third day back in Baltimore.  Two fingers
stretched her vagina as my erection forced itself inside her.  "Are you
sure?" I'd asked before I'd penetrated her.

   "Yes," she answered as she turned onto her hands and knees and spread
her legs.  "My bodies yours, anytime, anyplace," she said back over her
shoulder as I brought my cockhead to her puckered opening.

   We did everything sexually imaginable to each other over the following
weeks.  The noises I'd heard for years coming from my parent's bedroom had
truly reflected my mother's sexual need.  It was all encompassing, all
demanding.  It was hard to believe she'd allowed herself to become a sexual
yo-yo for over twenty years.  How had this hungry and needy woman been able
to turn herself on and off at her husband's merest whim.  How did she
survive his long absences?  I knew she never would again.

   Three weekends after our Onancock weekend, the weekend of the
twenty-third, we went to another nude beach, this one on the Outer Banks.
It was a huge relief to escape the confines of our house, again, even if
only for a few days.  We didn't have to hide what we felt for each other.
We could walk down the street arm in arm.  We could kiss publicly.

   And of course the exhibitionism.  The displaying of our bodies to
others. To feel that exhilarating rush again!  The first night, as she lay
in my arms, mom readily admitted how much she liked it.  Liked the feeling
of hungry eyes upon her.  All shyness was gone.

   ****

   My father was due home on Sunday, August 14th 2011.  So we'd had forty
days from first contact ...  and forty nights...

   And eventually we did have to talk about him!  It was only after we'd
returned from our second nude beach excursion that his name, his looming
arrival, increasingly popped into our conversations.

   "I love him," she whispered one night as we lay recovering from our
latest coupling.

   "I know," I whispered back and then climbed back on top of her.

   Another night she said, "We'll have to stop when he's home."

   "But then he'll leave again," I answered.

   Dad arrived at Dulles International Airport at 3:15 p.m.  on August 14th
after a three legged trip, two days of flights that included stops at
Honolulu and L.A.

   Mom and I met him at the gate.  Remnants of the sperm which I'd last
deposited inside her only an hour earlier were still sticky in her panties
as they embraced.

   I knew the second I saw them that I wasn't going to wait two months for
him to leave.  He was going to have to share her!

   ****

   In fact we lasted exactly fifty hours.  My father was on the phone in
his den and my sister Lizzie had just jumped in the car to go get a quart
of milk for dinner when I found mom in the kitchen.  She was standing in
front of the counter cutting vegetables for the salad for our dinner.  She
had a white apron on over her summer dress.  I walked silently up behind
her and gently lifted her dress.  I slipped my hands onto her panties.

   "Don't ...  please baby don't," she pled as my fingers tightened on the
soft cloth of her underwear and quickly pulled them down.

   "Bend over," I ordered as I unzipped.  She did.  I pushed inside her. 
She groaned.

   "Shhhhhh," I whispered as I started to fuck her.

   "He's going to have to share you," I told my mother after I'd finished
and was zipping up.

   "I know," she answered.

   Twenty minutes later the four of us were sitting at our dining room
table.  My mother was pantyless.  My cum was oozing out and down her inner
thigh.

   Dad and sis both complimented mom on her cooking.

   Looking at dad I couldn't help wondering who he was fucking in
Australia.

   Then my eyes shifted to my sister.  I was looking at a woman.  A ripe
woman.  And I had no idea who she was.  She'd started going to a private
boarding school four years earlier and the warm brother/sister relationship
we'd had through our childhood was an almost distant memory.

   Christ, she's probably already fucking I thought to myself as I watched
her.  When did that happen?

   But then I felt mom's toe on my leg.  I looked over at her and smiled.
I'll worry about dad and sis later...

   THE END

   This is the end of Book 1 of the Taylor family sagas.  I hope you
enjoyed it.  I'm hoping to write more books detailing further adventures of
Jimmy Taylor, his mother, his sister and his father.  Jimmy even may go
Down Under in a future story!  If you'd like me to continue the series
please let me know -- please vote and/or make a comment or email.  It's the
only way we authors can receive your feedback.

   I also love hearing your suggestions and ideas for future stories.

   Coming next is a farm story featuring the biggest thoroughbred stallion
in the land.  A stallion that both frightens and excites the young teenager
visiting from the big city.

   And hey, I'd truly appreciate you taking the time to name me one of your
"favourite authors".  After voting just click the Favorite Author button.
Thanks, I'd certainly appreciate it, jim scouries.

   to be continued....
   For pics visit ---->> https://bit.ly/2ReHUJI