Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Loving Mom



   Summary: An open-minded son falls in love with his romantically
neglected mother through fitness, tanning, and nude posing.
Keywords:inc,fic,erotic,hot



   It Begins

   "Beverly, Beverly, what has happened to you?"

   I was walking past the downstairs bathroom when I heard those words. 
The door was open a few inches, and I could see my mother's reflection in
the mirror when I looked inside.  I wasn't trying to peep, but it happened
that way.

   Mom was wearing a tight sports bra and nylon shorts -"workout clothes
-"that she spent more time wearing than working out in.  The bra supported
her large breasts without hiding her cleavage, and it left her abdomen bare
down to her waistline.  Mom wasn't heavy, but for the last few years she
was picking up a pound here, and a pound there and they weren't going away.

   The extra weight was evident in some of the clothes she wore, like her
shorts.  I noticed they fit tighter than they had a year ago, and I saw the
way the fabric dug into the cleft between her thighs.  I wouldn't have been
aware of this if Dad hadn't pointed it out one night as a joke, but now my
mother's thick, meaty camel toe was something to look forward to during her
"workout" time.

   She pinched the soft meat along her right side between her thumb and
forefinger, frowning at the skin she was able to pull outward.  Her left
hand roamed over her undefined stomach.  She sucked at her lip, glaring at
the lack of definition in her body.

   Mom pursed her lips and tick-tocked her eyes across her body, catching
my reflection peeping on her as she swung them to the left.  Her head
snapped up, and I turned red under her gaze.

   "Christopher, what are you doing?" Mom asked.

   I pushed the door opened, unable to hide my blushing face.  "Sorry.  I
heard you talking to yourself."

   Mom laughed, her smile lighting up the mirror and forcing my lips to
share in her amusement.  "I know that step-stuff is trending now, by I'm
your real mother, boy."

   "Stop," I said, stepping inside.

   "Who's the pornstar that your father said I looked like?  You know who,
the one you're always watching."

   I shrugged.  "I don't know what you're talking about."

   "Come on, tell me," Mom said.

   "Alexis Fawx."

   "She does a lot of that Mommy porn, right?" Mom laughed.  "That's what
your father said.  If you're going to wear headphones while playing with
your laptop, you should lock your door."

   "You're never going to let me live that down," I said.  "Everyone gets
caught at least once.  And do you ever wonder why Dad knows who she is when
he has you?"

   "Oh, I'm just joking," Mom said.  "I was flattered, really.  My very own
Oedipus."

   "Jesus, Mom, I wasn't even watching one of her fetish scenes."

   "I'm teasing," Mom said, laughing.  "Calm down.  Since when does
embarrassment run in this family?"

   I shook my head, feeling the heat in my ears.  "Anyway, Mom, you look
fine, stop worrying about your weight."

   Mom smiled at me and patted my cheek.  Her creamy green eyes sparkled.
"That's sweet, Chris, but I don't want to look 'fine.' I want to look
better.  I want to feel better." She made that sucking sound again.  "Maybe
your father would start paying more attention to me in the bed -""

   "This conversation is over," I said, not wanting to picture my mother
getting poked by my father.  I left the restroom.  "And it's the beer's
fault he isn't paying attention to you, not your body."

   Later that night, after the harsh hissing of an uncapped bottle of beer,
Dad asked me, "Want one?"

   "No," I said, sitting next to the couch in a leather recliner with a
swivel base.  Mom was lying on the smaller couch forming the little leg of
an L next to Dad's couch.

   "I used to have a body like yours," Dad said.  He took several gulps
from his beer.  "But I've earned this." He tapped his stomach, shaking the
strangely tight flab under his shirt.  My father was a bear, with puffy
cheeks and a neatly trimmed beard.  "I don't want to give away what I've
earned."

   I nodded, tapping my stomach without realizing it.  I didn't want to
lose the hard muscles beneath my shirt, not after the year I spent earning
them.

   "You're still modeling?" Dad asked.  "What kind of work is that for a
man?  You should be working at one of my auto shops."

   "It pays twenty-five an hour, sometimes more, and it's not always nude,"
I said.  "And I don't want to be a mechanic."

   "See," Dad said.  He pointed his beer bottle at Mom.  "You paint one
shirtless picture of him and the boy wants to be a pornstar."

   I laughed.

   "He's not a pornstar," Mom said.  "Oh, look at that." Mom pointed at the
casino commercial playing on TV.  Dinner, dancing, and a show -"that was
the advertisement.  "We should go out.  It's been so long since we've gone
out."

   "Have a beer, read a book," Dad said.  "Besides, you don't fit into your
dressy-dresses anymore.  There's no point." He finished his beer and held
the empty bottle toward Mom.

   Mom stared at him.  Her eyes were wide, and her lips set in an unhappy
line.

   I didn't say a thing.  I watched TV as Dad flipped through the channels,
stopping only when a pretty girl highlighted the screen.  The younger the
girl, the better and the less she wore, the longer he watched.  I looked
sideways at my mother several times, watching as her frown deepened
throughout the night.  She rubbed her stomach -"which wasn't big -"and her
other hand rubbed her thigh -"which wasn't big either -"but I could feel
the unhappiness oozing from her.

   "I'm off to bed," I said when the clock neared ten.  "I've got classes
in the morning."

   "Goodnight," Mom said.

   Dad mumbled something.

   I admired myself in my mirror when I reached my room.  I was eighteen
and over the halfway point, a slightly taller version of my father, with a
leaner jaw and bluer eyes, but the same dark brown hair.  I traced the
muscles of my abs, and flexed my muscular thighs, happy with the curve of
my hamstrings.  Is this what Mom wanted?  Not my body, but a body?

   "All right," I said to myself, "I'll help her out." My words came out
strained and reluctant.  I don't know why.  She wasn't asking me for help,
and I was going to volunteer my services to her.

   I was already stripped down to my boxer-briefs, so I locked my door and
turned on my laptop, wondering what new adventures Alexis Fawx was getting
into.

   Getting Into Shape

   I caught Mom in her in-home art studio the next day after class.  I
admired her from behind, leaning against the frame of the door-less
entryway.  She wore a yoga bodysuit, dark wine in color, but tight-fitting
and I could see a few spots she might have thought of as a problem, but no
else would have.

   I waited for her to pull her brush from her canvas before I asked,
"Mom?"

   Mom turned at the sound of my voice.  She tossed her straw-blonde hair
over her left shoulder, her profile accentuated by the heavy curve of her
left breast.  I didn't let my eyes linger on her tanned cleavage for long.

   "Come to model for Mommy?" Mom asked, laughing.

   "Don't say it like that."

   "Like what?" Mom asked, laughing harder.

   "Oh, I thought you were making fun of me again." I walked into the room,
looking around her home gallery.  Some paintings would make it to her
downtown gallery, but most would not.  She was better at selling the work
of others than her own, but it made her happy, which made me happy for her.
"I was thinking."

   "About?" Mom asked, slowly, after I didn't speak right away.

   "About you." I turned, facing her.  "You have a good body.  A really
good body.  Anyone can see that."

   "Oh" -"Mom waved at me with one hand and fanned her face with the other
-""you don't say."

   "When I came to you a year ago and said I felt too thin, you told me to
-""

   "Get your skinny ass and stringy arms to the gym," Mom finished.  She
laughed.  "Now look at you."

   "Exactly," I said, waiting.

   "No." Mom shook her head.  "It's different for you.  You have time."

   I laughed.  "I have college, labs, studying, work -""

   "You don't work."

   "You got me into nude modeling," I said.  "It's not hard-hard, but I
don't get to crack the books open when I'm there." I clapped my hands
together.  "You have the time, but you don't have the motivation.  We can
go to the gym -""

   "No gym, nope."

   "Will you stop cutting me off?" I walked to my mother and put my hands
on her sides, above her hips, but below her breasts, like I always did when
I tried to convince her of something.  "We can work out at home."

   "I don't know," Mom said.  "I'm too old."

   "You're what, twenty-five?"

   Mom laughed.  "Don't be an idiot.  I'm thirty-eight."

   "I meant you look twenty-five." I waited for Mom's laughter to end. 
"You don't need to lose much since you still have most of your body." I
squeezed Mom's sides, surprised by her unexpected jump.  "We'll stretch and
do some yoga until your muscles are ready for weights.  We'll also walk
until you feel like running.  What do you say?"

   "All right, you sweet talker, we can try," Mom said.  She put her hands
on mine and slowly pushed them from her body.  "Get out of here so I can
paint." She surprised me again with a quick kiss on the side of my cheek,
her full lips lingering against me for longer than a peck.  "Thanks,
sweetie."

   "No problem," I said and left her studio.

   I started easily with my mother.  We stretched in the morning,
performing a one-hour routine near the pool as the sun rose.

   "This is silly," Dad said before leaving to work.

   "Follow my lead," I told Mom when we were alone.

   Stretching is easy, if uncomfortable.  I stopped to coach Mom several
times throughout the routine, straightening her back and moving her legs
and arms as needed.  She was wearing black yoga pants and a white,
open-backed tank top with a black sports bar underneath.  I touched her as
little as possible, too aware of how her skin felt beneath my fingers.  I
don't know why I was so aware of her, but I was.

   We went for a walk when we finished.  Mom made me laugh by throwing on a
pink baseball cap and a fancy watch that I'd never seen before.  The watch
counted her steps.  It counted her calories.  It had a GPS and more.  It
even detailed to her friends how her workout was going.  An MP3 player,
blue headphones, and pink sweatbands completed her outfit.

   "Why are you laughing?" Mom asked me before we went out for our walk.

   "I don't know," I said.  "You're. . .  really cute."

   "Aw," Mom said.  She patted my cheek and off we went.

   We walked fast.  Mom marched alongside me, finding some rhythm with her
music.  I looked at her and looked at her more, her swinging breasts
drawing my eyes.  They weren't what they were, but they were winning their
fight against time.  It was hard to look away from them, but I did.

   She's your mother, I told myself.  Not some MILF at the gym.

   "So this is our routine?" Mom asked when we returned home.

   "Part of it," I said.  "Yoga tomorrow.  Wear something you can stretch
in."

   Mom opened her mouth wide and laughed.  "Really, you think?" she asked,
still laughing as I went upstairs to shower and check out Alexis Fawx.

   I woke before dawn the next day.  Last night I had gone to bed listening
to my dad telling Mom, "I can work you out, babe, just tell Chris to give
us five minutes alone." Neither Mom nor I found that funny.  I met Mom
downstairs, and our day began as the day before, right after Dad left the
house.

   Mom was dressed for yoga, wearing white pants with gray, horizontal
lines, the colors mixing into a camouflage-like style.  Her top matched,
showing off her white sports.  We got started, and it wasn't long before
Mom was sweating.

   "You've never done yoga?" I asked, standing behind her.  I was fixing
her Downward Dog stance, and I had to grab her by the hips to pull her
back.

   "No," Mom said, whispering when I squeezed her hips.

   My hands stayed on her body longer than necessary.  It wasn't
intentional -"at first -"but looking down at the swell of her ass through
her painted-on pants, I saw the squishy bulge of her pussy pressing against
the thin material.  I watched her lips moves, rubbing against each other in
a meaty swell that left my mouth dry.  My cock jumped at the sight,
thickening and I hurried back to my mat and fought the bastard in my pants
for the next few minutes.

   I never thought about the consequences of yoga with my mother, or
working out with her.  Throughout our hour-long routine, I had to stop
several times to help her with her alignment.  Afraid at first, soon I was
enjoying my hands on her hips and watching her body sweat under the misty
rays of the morning sun.

   It didn't matter if I stood in front of her or behind her -"Mom's body
was on display for my eyes.  The tops of her breasts glistened, and her
breathing deepened the further we went into our routine.  I silently
thanked the perverts, who had come up with women's athletic wear, every
time I looked at my mother's body.

   Mom's breasts moved, but not much.  Her sports bra held them tight to
her chest.  I couldn't see her nipples through her shirt, not that I was
trying to -"at first -"but after breaking from my routine several times
to train her, I couldn't help myself.  I wondered if they were hard.  I
knew other girls whose nipples tightened during yoga, and they wore shirts
that showed off their little nubs while pretending they didn't.  Could I
expect the same from Mom, one day?

   Mom was covered in sweat by the end of the routine.  She dripped,
gracefully, and she wanted to change before our walk, but I gathered her
gear and led her out the door.  I walked in front of her at first, facing
her as I quick-stepped backward, telling her how well she was doing.  I
could have encouraged Mom while standing at her side, but I wanted to see
her camel toe follow the motions of her thighs.

   Get a hold of yourself, I told myself.  I went to my room as soon as we
returned home, once again watching Alexis Fawx.  In this video she wore a
yellow dress while trapped under a table.  So silly, but her stepson had
helped her out of her predicament in the only way that made sense: he
fucked her loose.

   Our routine consisted of stretching twice a week, yoga three times a
week and walking every morning.  Dad didn't pay much attention to us, but
he did try to get Mom to drink beers at night with him.  I spent that
first-week training more than participating, and Mom's outfits continued to
draw my attention.

   The smooth curves of her behind and the way her butt stuck out invaded
my dreams at night.  I imagined that she had to be wearing a thong under
those pants, maybe a G-string, I didn't know, but my dreams told me that
she did.  In one of my reoccurring dreams, she would turn to me, looking
over her shoulder while I checked her posture and asked, "Chris, sweetie,
do you want to see what your Mommy wears for you?"

   I couldn't guide her forever, though, not like this.  Her posture
improved, and the need for my hands-on help lessened, so I added free
weights to our routine.  We used dumbbells, of which I had four, adjustable
to one-hundred pounds each.

   "No mom, back up and butt down," I said, standing behind her, my
favorite position when she wore her tight-fitting pants, sometimes shorts,
but usually pants.

   I put my hands on hips, two fingers above her waistline, and two below.
Her skin warmed under my touch, and her sweat sent chills through my palms.
I squatted behind her, spotting her, making her body mimic my movements. 
Mom's breathing was already hard, but I could hear the tremor that ran
through her breaths when I touched her.

   "There we go, Mom," I said, "you're looking great."

   "Thank you, sweetie," Mom said, moving up and down with me.

   "Just wait until we do this with a squat bar," I said, "then you'll
really feel the burn."

   "No gym," Mom said, laughing and throwing a you rascal look over her
shoulder.

   "In two months, you'll be dying to show off your body in the gym."

   Mom laughed, her bright, opened-mouthed smile making me smile like it
always did.  She has an infectious glow to her when she's happy.  She might
have been saying no, but I wanted to get her on that gym equipment, where I
could expose more of her body to my eyes.  After the workout, I went
upstairs to see what crazy adventures my favorite pornstar was getting into
again.

   It took three months to get her to the gym, mostly thanks to Dad saying,
"Give it up, it's not making a difference in your body." He was wrong. 
There were noticeable changes taking place.  Flab was melting away from
Mom's frame, and her muscles were coming out.  She was toned and whatever
softness had crept into her flesh was hardening up.

   "See, Mom," I said our first day at the gym, "you were worried over
nothing."

   "It's not about what you see," Mom said, "it's about how I feel." She
must not have felt good enough to show off, because her form-hugging
threads were gone, replaced by stylish sweatpants and a bedazzled hoodie.

   "You'll be ready to pose nude again in another month," I said, teasing.

   Mom laughed.  "Oh, stop.  I didn't think you'd be doing it too after I
told you that story."

   Pose nude.  My words were a joke, but the idea stuck with me: Mom posing
nude?  Hmm?

   "Mom," I said, "the entire point of working out is to show off what
you've earned, and you're wearing sweats."

   "Stop," Mom said.  She was lying on a hamstring machine, curling the
weights up and back.  Her round butt, tighter and firmer than before,
propped up into the air.

   "Men are looking at you," I said.

   "Why would you tell me that?" Mom's head came up, eyes scanning and lips
smiling.  She looked like a deer that was happy to have a hunter's
crosshairs zeroed on her.

   I shook my head, but some of Mom's self-consciousness faded away.  She
spent less time worrying about how she looked on the machines and more time
darting her eyes around without moving her head.  Did she think I wouldn't
notice?  I laughed.  But as we left the gym, she said something that
bothered me when it shouldn't have.

   "The only man I want looking at me is your father," Mom said.

   I nodded, hiding my frown by smiling.  Over the next three months
though, my mother gradually replaced her sweaters with tight sports bras
that kept her large breasts close to her chest, and bright, eye-attracting,
skin-hugging pants replaced her sweats.

   Six Months Later

   "Doug," Mom said, "stop it."

   I stopped as soon as I heard Mom's voice, not wanting to see my parents
fooling around.  I was a few steps from the kitchen entryway and hadn't
given a thought to being overheard on my way there, but now I was afraid
that my slightest movement would make it seem like I was eavesdropping on
them.

   "I thought people were supposed to have more energy after getting into
shape," Dad said.

   "You should go to the gym with me," Mom said.  There was a hint of a
struggle in her voice.

   "I don't need a gym.  I've got my cars, and I've got my beers: life is
good."

   "And?" Mom asked.

   "Oh, and I'm trying to get some love with my wife right now." Dad
paused, and I heard the wet sounds of an exaggerated smooch.  "If you think
about it, Chris has restored your body, like I do my cars, and he said he
didn't want to be a mechanic."

   "Restored?" Mom asked, and I pictured her pushing away from Dad by the
rough sound of her voice.

   "Well, you're not a newer model -""

   "I'm not a fucking car."

   "I'm not saying you are." Dad growled or grunted, or maybe it was some
kind of low-throated moan that he uttered.  "You've lost what, fifteen
pounds in six months?  You look great, but why?  No one but me is going to
look at you."

   "Nice things to say to your wife," Mom said.  "I haven't lost weight,
I've changed it: soft to firm.  You used to be romantic."

   "We've been married for eighteen years; we don't need to be romantic
anymore."

   "Twenty years," Mom said.  "I try hard to look good for you, and if
you're not going to try for me, at least you can spend more time making me
feel good about myself." Mom slammed something.  "If you want more than a
blowjob at night, take me out like you used to.  Show off your older-model
wife."

   This wasn't the first time I'd heard a conversation like this.  "Ow," I
said, raising my voice and hobbling into the kitchen a few seconds later.
"I stubbed my fucking toe."

   "Language," Mom said.

   Dad went into the fridge and grabbed a beer.  "I thought you weren't a
car," he said, leaving.

   "What does that mean?" I asked.

   "Nothing," Mom said.  She looked at me.  I looked at her.  Her face
softened.  She walked over to me, hugging me, pressing her cheek into my
chest.  "Thanks, sweetie, at least you appreciate me."

   I returned her hug.  "Of course I do." I slid my hands up and down her
back, letting my fingers feel the new angles of her sleeker muscles. 
"Everything all right?"

   "Yeah," Mom said.  She rested her hands on my lower back and looked up
at me.  Her full lips pulled into a warm smile.  "You make everything
better."

   I cupped her cheek in my right hand.  We looked into each other's eyes.
We were quiet, holding each other, and I kissed her on the forehead.

   "Oh," Mom said, blushing.  "Get out of here while I make dinner."

   I grabbed a glass of water and left, but I looked back at her, catching
a silly, happy smile on her face.  Later that night, in the living room,
Dad was flipping through channels.  I sat in the recliner, taking a break
from studying.  Mom was sitting on the loveseat.  She wore a pair of satin
shorts, silver, and her long legs stretched out over the far armrest.  I
couldn't help but notice the fullness that a year's worth of work had done
for her hamstrings, giving them a smooth, sloping line from the back of her
knee down to her. . . .  I looked away.

   Dad flipped through channels, stopping on Baywatch, the movie.

   "We should go to the beach," Mom said when Dad wouldn't turn the
channel. It worked, and he did, but Mom continued.  "I mean it.  I could
buy a new bikini, and we could tan, I could paint a seascape or the
boardwalk or" -"she looked at me -""Chris."

   "At least he'll keep his clothes on for you," Dad said.  He burped and
drank more beer, the crunch of chips echoing in his cavernous mouth.

   I spun the recliner on its swivel stand, trying to think of something to
say.  My father lay on his back, a beer in one hand, the remote in the
other, his bag of chips resting on his bigger-than-needed-to-be belly.  I
could see nacho-cheese crumbs in his beard.  I started laughing.

   "What?" Dad asked.  "What are you laughing at?"

   "Nothing." I looked at Mom.  "Never stop being you, Dad.  The beard is
looking good by the way.  Dignified."

   Mom looked at Dad and laughed.  She looked back at me, sharing a smile
and then laughed louder.

   "I have an idea," Dad said.  "Why don't you buy some new bikinis to wear
around the house?  Maybe, it would get Chris out and then we could have
some of that romance you're always bugging me about."

   I spun the chair back to the TV.  Mom didn't answer Dad's comment, and I
heard the crunch of chips again.  I heard him drink beer and let out a
soft, whispery burp that was mostly gas.  He flipped the channel again,
stopping on beach volleyball.  The chips crunched.  I pictured them, in his
teeth, breaking and crackling and mixing with his spit.  I heard that
crunch again.  I looked sideways at Mom.  She had folded her arms beneath
her breasts and set her lips in a stern line across her face.

   "Mom, I'll take you to the beach," I said.  "There's a new bar, right on
the boardwalk with a view of the surf.  It's nice."

   "A bar?" Dad made a sucking noise.  "You're not even old enough to go
into a bar.  If you want a beer, have one with me."

   "Restaurant-bar," I said, harder than I should have.  "And I don't drink
much.  An art student who painted me -"I was nude -"took me down there."

   "A girl?" Mom asked.

   Dad laughed.  Loud.

   "Yeah, Mom," I said, laughing while speaking, "a girl.  I'll take you
there since Dad won't.  Buy a new bikini.  It will be fun."

   Dad mumbled something, but the only thing I heard was the crunching of
chips.  A minute later, with his mouth full of beer, he asked, "This girl,
she what, eighteen?"

   "What does that matter?" Mom asked.

   "Twenty-two," I said.

   "Bikinis and the beach are for young women," Dad said.  "It's their
playground." He crunched more chips with his mighty chompers.  "I'm just
saying."

   "You act like I'm twenty years past retirement," Mom said.  "Chris, it's
a date."

   "Saturday afternoon," I said.

   "But," Mom said a few minutes later for no reason that I could think of,
"I need to tan.  I can do that tomorrow morning, after our jog."

   I nodded my head, not sure why I needed to know, but now that I knew, I
found myself wondering what she was going to wear while tanning.  I went
upstairs, to bed, and found a scene of my favorite pornstar tanning by the
pool.  The scene ended after her stepson came on her.

   The next day Mom tanned after our jog.  She ran upstairs to change into
a modest bikini with crisscrossing back straps.  It was a one-piece top she
had to pull over her head to wear.

   "You're going to have tan lines if you wear that again," I told Mom
before heading to my class that morning.  "Don't you have any tops you can
untie?"

   Mom laughed, embarrassed, but when she saw that I wasn't joking, she
said, "Yeah, I do." She kissed me goodbye on the cheek, whispering, "Why
didn't I think of that?"

   The next day I spied on my Mom from the kitchen window above the sink.
She was wearing a bright pink bikini top and a bottom that tied together at
her hips.  The bottoms covered her cheeks in full, and her top hugged her
breasts two inches above her nipples.  I went outside when Mom tried to
apply lotion to her back.

   "Do you want me to do that for you?" I asked.  "Just to get it all."

   "Sure," Mom said.

   She handed me the bottle.  A rush of excitement hit me as I touched my
fingers to her back.  I finished the job quickly, not touching my mother's
body in any way that wasn't proper.

   "Thanks, sweetie," Mom said.

   "No problem, you look great by the way," I said.  "Dad's missing out."

   Mom laughed, but she gave me one of her you're silly smiles that made
me laugh.

   I decided to tan with my mother the next day.

   I couldn't see her eyes under her sunglasses, but she couldn't see mine
either.  The morning mist was gone, and the light fell on us at an angle,
warming, but not overpowering.  I poured the oil into my hands and rubbed
my arms, biceps, my shoulders, and my stomach.  My muscles still held some
of their pump from our dumbbell training, and I added a little flex to some
of my movements.  I may have overdone it with the lotion because I was one
shiny motherfucker when it was over.

   "Can you get my back?" I asked and turned around as I tried not to laugh
at my slip-and-slide body.

   "Sure, sweetie," Mom said.

   I heard the squeeze of the lotion spurting into her hand.  My heart sped
up, making me wonder what was wrong with me, maybe I knew, but it wasn't
something I wanted to admit to myself.  Her fingertips caused my nipples to
harden, and bumps rose across my smooth skin.  Mom took her time, being
thorough, and the gliding motions of her palms sent several shivers up my
spine that I fought to control.

   "If only your father would join us," Mom mumbled when she finished.

   I wiped the excess lotion from my body as I turned over to enjoy the
sun. Today Mom wore a dark red bikini, smaller than the previous ones, with
a thick triangle that covered her mound and dipped below, between her now
visible thigh-gap.  The silky material cupped her labia, not too tightly,
leaving just the impressions of her twin lips that she freely expressed
while wearing her workout pants.

   "Chris, do my back," Mom said when we turned over.

   I let the oil drip onto her back above her bikini strings.  I rubbed the
lotion into her body, above and below the string, working her shoulders and
a portion of her ribs, taking my time with her lower back.  I could see the
age in her flesh, but that maturity turned me on.  I swallowed as my cock
thickened in my boardshorts.

   "There," I said, finishing.

   "Oh, wait," Mom said.  She reached back, taking one end of her bra
string between her fingers and pulled, untying her top.  She didn't say
anything more.  I finished the job quickly.

   Throughout the day and later that night, while posing for three art
classes over six hours, the memory of Mom's fingers gliding over my skin
teased me with a ghostly touch.  When my shirt came off, I could feel her
behind me, pressing her palms into my body once again.  My ball sack
tightened, and blood pumped through my cock.  I went to the restroom to get
a hold of myself during a five-minute break.

   I went straight upstairs as soon as I arrived home.  I watched my
favorite pornstar and went to bed, with visions of Alexis Fawx greeting me
in dreamland.  I think it was Alexis Fawx.  Dreams are hard to remember
sometimes.

   The next day during yoga, I broke my Child's Pose and shuffled up beside
Mom.  The pose puts a person in a fetal position on their knees, with their
arms stretching forward or backward by their sides, their choice.  Mom
looked at me.  I smiled at her.

   "Tell me how this feels on your back," I said.  "I noticed you were a
little stiff yesterday?"

   "Maybe a little," Mom said, as if unsure.

   I put my hands between her shoulder blades and pushed her forward.  Mom
moaned, grateful, it was the sound a woman makes when she's getting
stretched to her limits.  I used my position at her side to admire the way
her stretchy blue pants dug into her muff from behind.  My mother's. . . 
my . . .  Mom's pussy bulged between her clothed thighs.  Her pants
hugged her, refusing to let go of her cunny while trying to push into her.

   "Better?" I asked.

   "Oh, yeah, sweetie," Mom said, her voice strained.  "Much."

   "I think I'll spend more time helping you stretch today," I said.

   "Okay."

   I spent all morning helping Mom gain a few extra inches with each
stretch.  She thanked me with many erotic-sounding moans.  I found any
reason to put my hands on her hips, shoulders, and calves, but I was too
afraid to touch her thighs.  I knew she would discover how much I was
enjoying this if I touched her there.

   I stood at angles to her body, each one giving my eyes access to the
curves of her rounded backside, and the inward sloping muscles of her
thighs as they danced beneath her pants.  Every tight jiggle made my heart
double-pump.  Her Lycra sports bra strained obscenely against her large
breasts whenever I helped her bend forward, backward or to the side.

   I sighed like a fool when Mom was on her knees in Camel Pose.  I was to
the side of her, holding her beneath her shoulders and lower back so that
she could stretch as far back as possible.  I watched her body, my mind
imagining my hand sliding over her smooth stomach and across her mound to
cup her swollen muff.  I looked for so long that I didn't notice when my
mother brought her head back up.

   After that and my more than semi-hard erection, I backed off, breathing
hard and sweating despite the cool, morning air.  I welcomed our jog and
avoided watching Mom's tits as we ran -"no easy task.

   We tanned after our run, and I rubbed lotion onto her back before she
did mine.  She didn't untie her bikini top, but Mom did tell me to run my
fingers underneath the strings.  Mom took longer than the day before when
she lotioned my back.  She even rubbed my shoulders, saying, "You're too
tense.  How can you be tense after yoga?"

   I went upstairs right after, watching another series of Alexis Fawx
videos and comparing her to my mother.  This wasn't the first time I'd
watched her, and it wasn't the first time I've compared her looks to Mom's,
but this was the first time I compared them to each other while watching a
video.  I paused the screen after I came, and I went to have a shower, and
I left the house right after to clear my head.

   I found my laundry folded on my bed when I came home that night. 
Nothing new.  Mom doing my laundry was something I was going to miss when I
moved out.  I also found my laptop, closed, which didn't look right to me,
but since I couldn't remember how I left it, I pushed it from my mind and
went to bed.

   Mom and I worked out with the dumbbells and went for a run on Friday
morning.  She wore her black yoga pants with a white leotard over that. 
The leotard slipping between her thighs put a spotlight on her pussy when
framed against her black pants.  I looked and looked, and Mom asked me
several times to check her form as she did her squats.

   "I don't know," Mom said, looking over her shoulder at me.  "It doesn't
feel right today.  Guide me through a set.  Maybe it's all in my mind."

   I moved behind her.  The leotard didn't hug her butt; it narrowed into a
thong-like band that ran through the twin globes of her butt cheeks. 
Thanks to a year of working out, those two hills formed perfect crescents
that bulged outward in a firm half-circle.

   I took Mom by the hips as she squatted.  I followed her, pressing my
fingers into her flesh.  She wasn't too thin to be all bones, and she
wasn't too thick to be soft, she had a small amount of cushion covering her
desirable firmness.

   "Your father and I argued while you were out yesterday," Mom said,
breathing deep at the bottom of her squat and holding the position for a
three count.

   "What about?" I asked.

   "You," Mom said.  Her breathing wavered as I dug my fingers deeper into
her hips.

   "About?"

   "Us going out on Saturday," Mom said.  "He said he'd take me.  I said
no. We talked and talked, and I asked if he wanted to take me so he could
stare at the newer models."

   We went down again and up, down and up, my eyes never leaving the thin
string running between Mom's butt cheeks.  Her muscles tightened.  How
would Dad not be staring at Mom all day?

   "And?" I asked.

   "He said, 'What's the difference as long as I'm there with you?' Can you
believe that?"

   I laughed.  "Smooth.  The man is smooth." I let go of her hips.  "Your
form is perfect."

   "Thanks to you," Mom said.  "Chris, remember that paying attention to a
woman and making her feel wanted is the surest way into her heart."

   "I will."

   "And her pants," Mom blurted out, and then she laughed so hard she had
to stop her set early.

   Mom took longer to change than usual before we tanned that morning.  She
came downstairs wearing a black bikini-bikini.  Not the typical style of a
housewife, but a small top that left the upper portions of her breasts bare
and her bottoms swallowed only a third of her cheeks.  The front triangle
that hid her muff required some bikini line-scaping to wear properly.

   I swallowed the moan that was about to leave my mouth when she walked
into the backyard.  Her tinted glasses hid her eyes, but she smiled big and
bright at me.

   "I think I'm going to wear this tomorrow," Mom said.  "They allow
bikinis in that bar, right?"

   I nodded.  "It's right on the beach.  They do."

   Mom put lotion on me first that day.  She took her time, really digging
her fingers into my muscles.  "You're tense again," she said, trying her
best to rub the knots out of my back.  I stretched my neck and enjoyed
Mom's touch.  What was I thinking?  What was I doing?  I didn't know -"but
I knew.

   When it was my turn to lotion Mom, she said, "Could you rub my back a
little bit, sweetie?  I'm a little sore today."

   "My pleasure."

   Mom lay down, resting on her forearms.  I grabbed the lotion, and she
said, "Undo my top for me."

   I touched her skin as I gathered one of the strings and pulled,
unraveling the knot.  I tossed the strings to the sides.  The top fell to
the cushions, giving me a side-shot of her breasts in all their round
glory. They were firm, and when they sank into the lounge chair's cushion,
they bulged outward around the sides like a twenty-year-olds.

   "Don't forget to rub my shoulders," Mom said.  "And my back.  My lower
back too.  Just rub me all over."

   "Sure," I said.

   I poured the lotion over the center of her back.  It pooled on her tan
skin, a small drop of white on a golden canvas.  I pressed my palms into
her back and pushed upward, toward Mom's shoulders.  She sighed and relaxed
into the cushions below her.

   "That's good, sweetie," Mom said.

   I curled my fingers along her neck, into her traps, and holding her
muscles in place, I slid my thumbs over them, pushing their soreness
forward in a wave.  Mom moaned a soft "mmm" sound that curled her lips curl
into a pleasant smile.

   "I can feel how much your body has changed," I said, voice low.

   "I knew you would, at least," Mom said.  "Let me relax, baby, and do the
rest of my back."

   I nodded, though she wasn't looking.  I moved my hands lower, pushing
against her shoulder blades and digging my fingers into her flesh.  Her
muscles rippled under my sweeping brushes.  Mom uttered occasional moans,
some sounding like a kitten's purr.  These made my heart speed up and
caused my crotch to stir.  I had to close my thighs together in an attempt
to ease my ache.  I wasn't fully hard, but I was close.

   I moved to her lower back and dug the heels of my palms into her spine
and pushed outward toward her sides.  My fingertips curled over hips, where
her once small love-handles had been, but now there was only close-clinging
smoothness and muscles that yielded to my pressure with youthful
resistance. I did this several times, stretching my fingers out and pulling
them back, enjoying the texture of my mother's skin.

   "Baby," Mom whispered, "are you almost done?"

   "Yeah," I said.  "All done."

   I moved to my lounge chair and tanned, face down.  The last thing I
wanted Mom to see is the effect she had on me.

   A Crazy Decision

   "What are you doing?" Dad asked on my way upstairs later that night.

   "Going to bed," I said.

   "No," Dad said.  "What are you doing to your mother?"

   "Nothing." I scratched my head, watching him sip his beer as we stood at
the foot of the stairs.

   "She's had her fun, she's back in shape, and now you're taking her out.
Why?" Dad shook his head.  "She was happy before you started all of this.
Now all she does is complain that I don't put enough effort into making her
happy."

   I nodded.  "She feels good about herself; why don't you let her?" I met
my father's beer-filmed eyes, and I said something I regretted instantly,
but I said it.  "She's not going to leave you.  Get rid of your
insecurities or get rid of your beer.  The problem is your twelve-pack a
night habit."

   Dad stared at me for what felt like a long time.  Outside I was just me,
looking normal after a helpful suggestion, but on the inside, I was
cringing.  That's a fucked-up thing to say to your father.

   "You used to love her more," I said, unable to stop myself.  "You used
to show it, too."

   "I didn't know you were majoring in psychology," Dad said.  He sighed
and left me alone.

   I went upstairs, upset with myself, proud of myself.  I sat at my desk
and turned on my computer, searching through my files until I found the
scene of Alexis that I wanted.  In this one, she has a sleepwalking stepson
who she blows on the stairway -"because why wouldn't she?  She's wearing a
cream-colored dress that her figure dominates and later, she's dressed in a
black onesie that clips between her legs and matching sheer stockings, and
there's no taking your eyes from her for the rest of the scene.  I didn't.

   I had my cock in my hand as Alexis Fawx brought my big bastard to life
the moment her blonde hair came into view.  I jerked off, thinking about my
mother and comparing her to my favorite pornstar.  Both women were
beautiful, blonde, with big breasts and dynamic bodies, but they were
different people.  One wasn't the other, and unlike Alexis Fawx, my mother
was right under my roof, and my father didn't appreciate her.

   Both of them together? I came right at that moment, and my bedroom door
opened.

   "Fuck," I said, diving for my shirt.

   "Sweetie I just want to -"oh god."

   Mom closed my door.  I heard her laughter coming from inside of my
room.  I turned my head as I held my discarded shirt over the tented front
of my shorts.  Mom was covering her mouth with both hands and trying to
hide her amusement.

   "Get out," I said.  "Fuck, Mom."

   Mom turned, opened the door, and stepped outside.  She didn't close the
door.  She said, "Sweetie" -"laughing -""I just wanted to say I was looking
forward to our date tomorrow.  I'm excited about it."

   "Yeah," I said, "me too." My entire body was red.  I could feel the heat
of my embarrassment cooking my hairs.

   "I saw that," Mom said, laughing all over again.

   "Close my door."

   Mom closed the door, but her voice called through the wood, "Don't
stay up all night, young man."

   "Mom!" How does this happen to a nineteen-year-old?

   "What, big boy?" Her laughter echoed down the hallway.

   Artists!  Nudity was nothing to them, and my mom was as open-minded and
fun-loving as they came.

   Open minded.

   I looked at my laptop.  I looked at Alexis Fawx.  Damn her for being so
sexy.  I cleaned up and went to bed, hoping to dream of Alexis, and I did,
with her above me saying, "Mommy is here for you, son, are you there for
Mommy?" at least that's who I told myself I was dreaming about when I woke
up in the morning.

   Mom and I were at the beach the following afternoon.  We walked the
boardwalk, strolled the pier, played games, but neither of us won a prize.
We didn't go into the water and Mom didn't bring her easel or her paints or
her brushes, not even a sketchbook.  We were there to walk around and eat
and enjoy ourselves.

   I was wearing boardshorts and a tight Lycra shirt that showed off my
build.  Mom was wearing a white, unbuttoned shirt, her bikini top cupping
her breasts, but it didn't hide a thing.  She wore a sheer white skirt over
her butt-hugging, black bikini panties.  We had a change of clothing in the
car, just in case we decided to stay past sunset.

   "Do you want one?" Mom asked inside of a liquor store.  She held two
single-serving bottles of Grey Goose in her hands.

   "Sure," I said.  I didn't want one, but her smile was infectious.

   The liquor burned, but it burned good, and we moved on.  Heartburn
kicked in, and I bought us ice cream cones.  Mom licked her ice cream
slowly -"deliberately -"and I tried to remember the last time she had eaten
one in front of me.  I couldn't, but I wouldn't forget the way her tongue
slipped across the vanilla surface before pulling a dollop of cream into
her mouth.

   "Yummy," Mom cooed.  "I love the way it slides down my throat."

   We walked longer than I had expected.  We entered shops, and Mom bought
a straw hat.  Along with her big sunglasses, she looked like she had
stepped out of a commercial for a Caribbean cruise.  We eventually made it
to the bar I had invited her too, which sat across the street from the
sand. We sat on the patio and ordered food to share.

   "Are you sure you don't want a drink?" Mom asked.

   "They'll card me."

   "You can sneak mine," Mom said.  "They work at the beach.  They're
cool."

   I laughed.  "They're so cool."

   "Don't make fun of me." She play-slapped my hand.  "I'm just kidding. 
It's cute when you do."

   "I have to drive," I said.  "But I don't like the taste of liquor
anyway."

   "You have more of me in you than your father."

   "Well, we have both modeled nude for strangers," I said, not knowing
that I was I going to say that.

   "For art," Mom said.  "I was painting the people, but I wanted to
experience the other side of the canvas for a while." Mom shook her head,
rolled her eyes, and drank from her margarita.  "I couldn't do that now."

   "You have the body for it."

   Mom smiled.  "Thanks to you."

   "Even before we started working out together," I said.  "Anyone willing
to get naked can model nude, you know that.  I may have helped with your
confidence, but not your body."

   "You do like to build me up." Mom sipped her margarita.  "Not like your
father."

   The sun was setting.  The sky turned lavender, with hints of pink and
purple as the orange ball of flame dropped beyond the western curve of the
world.  I pointed the scene out to my mother.

   "Now that is an image worth painting," Mom said.  She held up her thumb,
fucking around by closing one eye, and then she steered her hand in my
direction.  "It can be a backdrop for you, but you'd have to lose the
shirt."

   I almost choked on my Coke.  Mom was teasing, we were having fun, but
her words excited me.  She hadn't brought up catching me last night, but a
part of me wished we would.  I reddened.

   "What?" Mom asked.  "What's making those cheeks of yours turn red?" She
looked around.  "Is there some hottie who doesn't know her thong is showing
too much?"

   "No," I said, laughing.  "I was thinking. . . ." What was I thinking? 
"Modeling.  You should do it again."

   "What?" Mom asked.  She looked down the front of her body.  "Why?"

   "For you," I said.  "For your confidence.  To show off what you've
worked hard for." My heart sped up.  "To annoy Dad into action."

   Mom laughed, surprised.

   "For not paying attention to you the way he should?"

   "Sweetie, honey," Mom said, shaking her head.  "I have you for that. 
You pay more than enough attention to me."

   What did she mean by that?

   "Don't you like being looked at?" I asked.  "By someone sober and not
hungover when he's not?" I drummed my fingers on the table.  "It's harmless
and . . .  it feels good to be eye-candy."

   Mom laughed, but quieter, as if remembering her past experiences.

   My iPhone buzzed.  I pulled it from my pocket, wondering if it was Dad
asking where we were, but it wasn't.  It was one of my employers.

   My model had to cancel.  Text me back.  Class starts in an hour.  First
come, first serve.

   Impulse made me send a reply.

   "Who's that?" Mom asked.

   "Someone wants to schedule me," I said.  Another text came through,
telling me to be there for a two-hour class.  I confirmed.  "We should go
soon.  I have a surprise for you."

   "What?" Mom asked as her eyes lit up.

   "It's a surprise."

   Mom changed in the car, putting on a pair of jeans, and she buttoned up
her shirt.  I didn't bother to change before driving us to the studio,
where I introduced Mom to Jen, an instructor who has thrown a lot of work
my way.  They sized each other up, both blonde, both thin, but Mom was more
athletic while Jen had a willowy body and a flyaway sway to her step.

   "Jen, this is my . . .  lady friend," I said.  "Beverly."

   Mom looked at me, pulling back her head back as a wide "lady friend?"
smile crossed her face.  They shook hands.  I said, "Can she borrow an
easel and some gear?"

   "Sweetie -"baby -"Chris?" Mom asked.  "We're going to paint?"

   "You are," I said.  "I'm going to remind you what it's like to be the
center of attention."

   I left to grab my robe from my car's trunk so that I could change into
my nakedness.  The last thing I heard was Jen asking Mom if they knew each
other because Mom looked familiar.  I stripped down in the dressing room,
my heart beating faster with each piece of clothing I removed.  What was I
doing?  I looked at myself in the room's mirror and ran my hands through my
hair several times, before jerking them back and forth over my scalp in a
rapid-fire motion.

   I dropped to the floor and did push-ups to get my blood pumping.  I then
did several squats and more lunges, ending my pump-up routine by flexing
while watching my body in the mirror.  This was my pre-showoff routine, but
I wanted my body to look as cut as possible for a special lady in the room.

   "Do you know what you're doing?" I asked myself.

   Jen knocked on the door and cracked it open.  "Decent?" she asked,
teasing me.

   "Let's go give them a show," I said, thinking of them as my mother and
as soon as that happened, my cock twitched.  The base thickened and I
paused on my way to the door.  Oh, shit.  I took a deep breath and
continued.  How much of a problem was this going to be?

   "You okay?" Jen asked.

   We walked into the studio.  A foot-high dais was set up in the center of
the room.  The artists worked in a double-layered circle around me, their
easels at an angle and as close as possible to me without being in each
other's way.  I walked onto the dais; my robe closed as Jen explained the
class' lesson plan.

   Mom stared at me as Jen talked.  She sat in the back circle.  Her eyes
widened at me, and her smile tightened.  I imagined she was calling me a
crazy fool for what I was doing.  I rolled my eyes up and to the side,
shrugging like I did when I was a kid who had done something foolish that
she couldn't get mad at me for.

   Mom laughed -"loud -"and that drew eyes to her.

   "Sorry," Mom said and put her head down, turning red.

   "Let's begin with the sketches," Jen said.  "Chris, the robe?"

   "Oh, yeah." My concentration was on Mom, not the class.

   I set up my first pose, dropping my robe and keeping my goods hidden
from Mom's eyes.  She got a side view of me, with my left thigh pushed
forward, concealing my manliness.  I held my arms up and over my head and
tilted my eyes skyward.  This was a five-minute pose, giving the artists
time to sketch me as quickly as possible.  I would be doing a few of these
before an hour-long pose to finish the night.

   With each pose I shifted into, I made sure to hide my intimate parts
from Mom's eyes.  I met her gaze a few times, smiling and once sharing a
wink.  Mom used her expressive features to the best of her ability, sharing
secret looks, little smiles, calling me a silly goofball once with her
silent lips, but she sketched on.  When I was looking at her, her eyes
would meet mine and stay there, but I saw them drift over my body when I'd
look away.  I felt them too.

   Feeling my mother's eyes roaming over my nakedness was the hardest part
of the night.  My heart thumped in my chest.  I flexed more than necessary,
showing off my leanness.  Droplets of sweat formed on my brow and across my
shoulders.  My member went from hanging soft against my sack to plumping
up, thickening under the gaze of several artists.  There were a few smiles,
but erections weren't exactly uncommon in an art studio.  It happens.

   "Break," Jen called.  "Ten minutes."

   I put on my robe, and as I walked away, I heard an artist complain. 
"He's not showing us his front.  I'm here for a full-body experience." Mom
laughed.  The guy was on her side, but others agreed.  I was going to have
to give Mom an hour-long show when I returned.

   The hard-on I was fighting jumped up to full thickness once I entered
the dressing room.  Jen visited me to discuss my final pose, and she
noticed my problem.  It was hard not to.

   "Want some help with that?" Jen asked.

   "Not tonight," I said.  "Besides, you've already notched your brush with
my number."

   "Who's the woman?" Jen asked, adding, "someone special?"

   "Very," I said.

   "I'll leave you to handle that club of yours.  See you soon."

   She was right.  I needed to handle this.  I didn't mind Mom seeing me
naked, but I didn't want to get hard in front of her tonight.  I grabbed my
cock and stroked, working fast, picturing Alexis Fawx from behind with her
smooth, tasty peach open for my cock.  Although I used Alexis' name, it
wasn't her I was imagining.  I came in double-quick time and cleaned-up in
the connected bathroom.

   I faced Mom back in the studio as I sat on the small, cloth-covered
pedestal Jen provided for my comfort.  I swept the back of my robe across
it as I sat and crossed my right leg over my left, scissors-style, making
sure to hide my cock from my mother's eyes with my thigh.  I threw off the
robe with a flourish, which brought another laugh from Mom and I settled
into the Thinking Man's pose, with my eyes angled toward my mother.

   Mom shook her head, smiling.  Was that for the robe flourish, or because
once again I was hiding my intimates from her?  It didn't matter.  She had
seen almost all of me tonight, and what I was hiding she had seen on two
separate, embarrassing occasions.

   Time ticked along.  I stayed seated.  My thoughts drifted to Mom,
wondering what I looked like on her canvas.  Would she show Dad?  Would
this be our little secret? The taboo thrill of those words created an
ache inside of me, below my waist, which throbbed and caused a swelling
that I did not want.

   Time became my enemy.  I cleared my head -"tried to -"but Mom in her
bikinis crept along the edges of the blankness I was imagining.  Her touch
against my skin, my fingers on her flesh, every second of our mornings
replayed themselves within my mind.  Damn it.  I grew harder.  Sweat beaded
my forehead.  I closed my eyes, concentrating on everything and anything I
found unattractive.  My balls began to hurt.  My cock wanted up.  The
second-hand of the clock ticking on the wall beat a tattoo of misery into
my mind.

   Tick, tick, tick, the clock went. Tick, tick, tick, it would never
end.  I opened my eyes, looking at my Mom as she looked at me.  She smiled,
something motherly and caring, but more so.  She went back to work as if
someone had reminded her to stop staring at me. Tick, tick, tick. Hell
was my existence. Tick . . .  tick . . .  tick.

   When the class ended, I exhaled a sigh of relief that filled the room
for all to hear.  I bent, keeping my semi-stiff cock hidden and retrieved
my robe.  The class clapped for me, thanking me for my time and lack of
shame, and off I went to change.

   Once back in the class, I found Mom talking to Jen about Mom's gallery.

   "I used to model," Mom was saying.  "I wanted to know what it was like
to be on the other side of the canvas."

   "Is that how you met Chris?" Jen asked.  "Did he model for you?"

   Several deep-throated chuckles left Mom's body.  "He's left some lasting
imagines in my head that I'll never be able to forget."

   "Actually," I said, "I was hoping you could schedule Beverly for a
class."

   Mom pursed her lips, her eyes wide.

   "I don't mind," Jen said.

   Mom shook her head.  "Me, again, no, I couldn't.  It's been a long
time."

   "Art is timeless," I said.

   Jen laughed.  Mom rolled her eyes.

   "Let's go home," Mom said.

   "You can pose as a pair if that's more comfortable for you," Jen said,
looking at me without looking at me -"doing me a favor.

   Mom smiled and shook her head.  "Thank you for the offer, but it's time
to go."

   I confirmed a few appointments with Jen and said goodbye.

   "That was sneaky," Mom said on the road home.

   "It was last minute," I said.  "Unplanned, I swear."

   "Your text," Mom said.  "Uh-huh."

   "I'm serious." I glanced at her.  She was looking out the window, with
her head against the headrest and her eyes cast upward at an angle.  She
looked relaxed.  "If I can do it, you can do it."

   Mom laughed.

   "Why not?"

   "Because," Mom said.

   "That's no kind of answer." I whistled.  "I do it for the thrill, and it
makes me feel good.  I don't know what went through your head when you did
it, but it gives me a rush."

   "My son, the exhibitionist." Mom laughed.  "Is that why you don't lock
your door?"

   I chuckled and mumbled, "Maybe."

   Mom's laughter faded away with that word.  "'Maybe' can mean a lot of
things, Chris."

   "Think about Jen's offer," I said, after a minute.  "With or without
your new body, you deserve to have eyes on you.  You deserve admiration."
We were almost home.  "If Dad won't show you that, then maybe strangers
should.  Someone other than me should get to appreciate your body."

   Mom looked at me.  I didn't look at her.

   Mom showed me her drawings outside of my car, but the face was too vague
to match mine.  I didn't ask her why she did that, and she didn't explain.
I think the question crossed our minds when I had a look at them, but we
remained silent on the issue.  I went to my room as soon as I entered the
house.  I needed to take care of some business.

   I became aware of Mom and Dad engaged in a loud conversation later that
night.  It ended with a slamming door.  I heard the words "Don't" and
"Appreciate" and "Supportive" and "Asshole." I didn't try to listen.  It
was none of my business.  And even though I was focusing on loving my
mother, I still loved my father.  It's strange that I knew what I was
trying to do, but I didn't want to acknowledge it.

   Mom knocked on my door about an hour after her fight with Dad.  I locked
it tonight, though I almost hadn't.  I opened it, wearing only my
boxer-briefs, not self-conscious nor considering if Mom would be -"there
was no way she would be.

   "Okay," Mom said.  "I'll model for Jen."

   "I'll let her know," I said.  "What day is good for you?"

   Mom smiled a straight, flat smile.  "Us, sweetie." Mom nodded, to
herself or me, I wasn't sure.  "I'll do it, but I can't do it alone.  We
can do a lot of side-by-side poses."

   "We can do non-nude," I said.  Why did I say that?  Because I'm a good
son.

   Mom looked down and shook her head.  "No.  I want to do nude.  I might
as well go all out with this.  Choose a day for us, okay?"

   "Okay," I said.

   We said goodnight.  She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek, letting
her hand balance herself on my bare chest.  Mom walked away.  I went back
to bed, not needing to watch Alexis Fawx after I locked my door.  My mind
was clear.

   The First Pose

   Sunday came and went with Mom, but Dad and I had a conversation.

   "Are you happy now?" Dad asked.

   "Yeah," I said, but I wasn't sure why I was supposed to be happy.  I sat
in the breakfast nook, eating, and he had a before afternoon beer in his
hands.  It was a strong beer, imported, its alcohol content in the double
digits.

   "You've convinced your mother to pose in one of your classes," Dad said.
"What kind of son does that?"

   "The best darn son in the world," I said.  Did she tell him?  How much
did she tell him?  "Maybe if you took her out she wouldn't be getting up in
front of strangers." Did she tell him it was nude?  With me?

   "I work all day," Dad said.  "I manage my auto body shops.  I work on my
cars.  I come home and want to relax with a beer.  Haven't I earned that
after twenty years?"

   "Yeah," I said.  "You and your beers make a strong case for keeping Mom
inside." I smiled.  "There's always the weekends?"

   "Wait until you're older." He put his hand on his stomach without
seeming to realize he had.  "Things change.  She's supposed to know that
she's important to me."

   I stayed quiet.

   "So, what kind of poses is she doing?" Dad asked.

   I smiled.  "Nothing I would be embarrassed to see."

   Monday came, and Mom and I worked out.  Stretching, running and tanning,
only this time Mom didn't go upstairs to change into her bikini.  She
walked into the backyard in her sweat-stained yoga pants and sports bra and
standing next to my lounge, she bent her right knee, hooked her thumbs
under her yoga pants and peeled the skin-tight clothing from her legs.

   Her bottoms were not bikini bottoms.  They were strings that circled her
hips and ran through her golden cheeks, between her thighs and widened in
front, but not by much.  Mom removed her sports her and beneath that was a
thin top that that hid her nipples with two small triangles of cloth.

   "You're staring, sweetie," Mom said.

   I blushed and looked away.  Stupid.

   "It's okay." Mom sat on her lounge chair.  "We're going to see each
other naked, aren't we?"

   "Tonight," I said, nodding.

   "So soon." Mom tapped her right thigh.  "I was thinking we could ease
into being nude in front of each other, but since it's tonight. . . ."

   I swallowed.  "I'm up for it if you are."

   Mom giggled.  "Don't be too up for it, I've seen how you get around my
look-alike."

   I sighed, but I managed to utter a weak, bitter laugh.

   "You first," Mom said.  "All the way, not like the other night."

   "I was trying to give you confidence, not a show."

   "Oh, you tease." Mom tapped my leg with her foot.  "You've given me two
shows since you've turned eighteen."

   I smiled at her and stood.  I took off my shirt, using the arms crossed
in the front method, so my lats flex when I pulled my shirt over my head
and back arched, emphasizing my chest.  My muscles swelled with the effort,
and I tossed the shirt onto the floor.

   "I want the whole show," Mom laughed, spinning her finger in a circle.

   "What's the big deal, right?" Mom's eyes glanced down.  "You're going to
stare?"

   Mom smiled.  "Oh, sweetie, I have no doubt you're going to steal a few
looks at me when you think I'm not aware of it."

   I took a deep, calming breath.

   "It's natural, sweetie.  Take it off for Momma." She laughed, clapping
her hands to her chest.  "Where are my dollar bills?"

   I laughed and followed her directions.  My boardshorts and cotton
undershorts dropped to my ankles, displaying my thick, well-hung cock for
my mother's eyes.

   "Make sure you oil that little rascal," Mom said, adding in a low,
thoughtful voice, "Not so little though, is it?"

   "Christ, Mom," I said, not as embarrassed as I pretended to be.  I sat
down and looked at her.  "Your turn."

   "I might as well be naked in this suit." Mom pouted.  "Isn't that
enough?"

   I shook my head.

   "Well, if you're going to make me. . . ."

   She reached behind her back, undoing the top and slid the cloth from her
large breasts.  Mom's rosy nipples stood straight up, long and thick and
mouthwatering.  I was tempted to ask if she had breastfed me as a child.

   "Well?" Mom asked.  "They're out in the open.  Compliment me before I
cover these babies up."

   "They look . . .  great," I said. Fuck it. "Was I breastfed?"

   "Why?" She was looking down at her breasts, idly swaying them side to
side as if that was normal to do in front of her son.

   "Because," I said, already feeling my adrenaline surging, "if you did,
then I can brag to my friends about sucking on a perfect pair of tits when
I was younger."

   "Chris!" Mom said, turning bright red.  She brought her hands to her
mouth.  "Oh my god, you little pervert."

   I laughed, turning a shade of scarlet that showed through my tan.  "If
you can make fun of my fascination with Alexis Fawx, then I should be able
to make that joke."

   Mom waved away my comment, smiling and laughing, her mouth wide.  There
were still the bottoms to go.  A few minutes passed before she was ready to
slide those black strings down her legs.

   "Well, you're going to see all of me tonight," Mom said.  "Here goes
nothing."

   She grabbed the sides of her bikini and pushed downward.  The strings
rolled against her smooth skin.  Her mound came into view, mostly shaven,
but parted by a stream of wispy blonde hairs.  Further down her panties
traveled, the gusset sticking to the plump, peachy lips of her hairless
pussy before following the rest of her outfit to the ground.  Her smooth,
golden cunny lips curved backward and around, out of sight between her
thighs.

   "There," Mom said, looking down at her body.  "Nothing special, right?"

   "Not even to a blind man," I said, having to force my eyes from my
mother's pink pearl peeking out from beneath its short hood.

   "Don't tell your father about this," Mom whispered.

   We lay down.  I put my sunglasses on, and so did she.  We oiled our
bodies in silence, and after a deep breath, I poured oil over my cock.  Mom
said nothing, but I saw her stomach collapse deeper than before as she
inhaled.

   It was hard not to put on a show, but I did cup my balls to slide the
oil over them with a half-circle motion.  My cock came last, and I gave it
one quick tug to coat it in a protective layer of shiny cream.  I
stiffened, but only a little, fighting the urge to go full mast with all my
strength and then some, biting my cheek until it stung.

   Mom poured lotion onto her mound and gently slid her fingers outward
through the cream.  She oiled her flesh and wet her pubic hair, and then
moved lower.  She used her fore and middle fingers to rub the lotion into
the muscles where her thighs met her outer labia.  I lay still, trying to
control my breathing as my mother spread her legs and pushed against her
twat's softer outer folds.

   Mom finished, not looking at me and lay back.  I spent my time looking
at her body without turning my head, straining my eyes.  Her golden hairs
thrilled me, sprouting up from her mound like the pale fingers of a
tempting flame.

   Mom lotioned my back first when we turned over, and she offered me the
lotion after she finished.  "Take your time," she said, resting her head on
her forearms.  "Get my sides too.  I don't think I oiled them well enough
to keep them from burning."

   "Sure," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.  This was a
surreal moment in my life.  I was naked, kneeling alongside my mother's
lounge chair, where she lay naked, and we were acting this like it was a
normal, everyday occurrence.

   I couldn't see between my mother's legs from the side of her shoulder,
even with the slight part between her thighs.  I wanted to, but I didn't
want my mother knowing I was trying to sneak a look at the soft cushion of
sexy meat between her legs.  I couldn't do that, even though I felt deep
down in my gut that she wouldn't have minded if I tried.

   I poured the lotion across my mother's spine.  She sighed, and I pressed
my palms into her skin, wishing I was behind her instead of beside her.  I
pushed the lotion across her body, moving laterally over her muscles.  I
ran my right hand downward, toward the upward curve of her ass and smoothed
the oil across her flesh, watching as her skin gave way to the pressure of
my fingers.

   "Mm," Mom sighed.  "Don't go lower, sweetie."

   "I wasn't going to," I said as the tip of my pinky finger passed above
the crack of her ass.  I watched Mom's butt sway with my hands as I sawed
them across her lower back, from one soft side to the next.  My fingertips
buzzed, and my balls tingled, making my cock jump.  "Mom, I'm going to have
to stand over you so I can get your right side."

   "Okay, sweetie," Mom said, her voice soft and relaxed.  "Do what you
have to do."

   I stood, my cock swinging like a rope across my balls.  Mom faced my
direction, but I couldn't tell if her eyes were open underneath her
glasses. I hoped they were.  I couldn't step over the lounge chair, it was
too wide to do so comfortably, so I said, "I need to kneel.  Can you spread
your legs for me?"

   Mom was quiet for a moment, and then she did as I asked.  I looked down,
watching as the hairless lips of her warm muffin came into view.  They
glistened from the oil and maybe more.  I took a deep breath, smelling
something thick and sweet in the air.

   "A little more," I said.

   Mom did as I asked, opening her pink seam to my eyes.  I placed my right
knee between her legs and kneeled, watching my cock hover above her buns.
Her beautiful crack drew my eyes.  I could see between her crevice to the
rigid spokes of her clean, pale asshole.

   I suppressed a groan and dropped more lotion onto her body.  My cock was
growing, so I bit the inside of my cheek again, wincing as I did.  I put my
hands on her shoulders and rubbed, pulling her from the cushion and moving
her body as little as possible.  Did this make her nipples rub against the
cushion?  I hoped so.

   Mom sighed.  I ran my fingers down to the base of her spine, and with my
fingertips pointed outward, I caressed her sides.  I didn't massage her -"I
stroked her.  Her breath paused for a moment.  I moved upward, slipping my
fingers along her ribs and toward the sides of her breasts.  I was almost
there, and then I was closer, and then I was cupping her ribs right below
the curves of her large mounds.  I felt their heat.  Mom held her breath,
and I slid my hands away from sides, gliding my fingertips across her body
and lifting them into the air.

   My heart was racing, near exploding, and a dizzy sensation made me swoon
as my blood supply rushed to my cock.  "I need a drink," I said, stepping
to Mom's right and away from her line of sight.  My cock had pumped up to
rock-hard stiffness.

   Mom laughed, soft and low, but she didn't turn to look at me.

   That night, Mom and I left as Dad grumbled and mumbled and opened a
beer. Mom asked him if he wanted to drive her, and he said, "Why?  So I can
watch people paint you?  I know what you look like." When Mom growled, he
added, "Even with my eyes closed," but that didn't come off as romantic as
I think he thought it would.

   "You ready?" Mom asked I drove us.

   "Yes," I said.

   "Did you take care of yourself?" Mom asked, amused.

   I laughed.  "I'm good, thanks."

   "You're okay with this?" Mom asked.  "What we're doing?"

   She was looking at me, smiling, but not the infectious smile that made
me laugh.  This one was different.  Mom smiled with sympathy and
understanding.  There was something sad and yet, determined, in her eyes.
She wanted to know if I, her son, was okay with what we were doing. What
were we doing?

   "Yes," I said.  "I wouldn't have it any other way."

   Mom patted my arms and said, "Okay." She rubbed my forearm, her fingers
sliding across my skin in a familiar way.  "Okay." The second time she
spoke was to herself.

   Mom told Jen we wouldn't be doing anything too intimate with each other
when we reached the studio.  Surprise crossed Jen's face.  I hid my
disappointment, yet Mom's decision helped ease my nerves and calm my
excitement.

   "Oh, look, I must be excited," Mom said when we undressed together.

   I was already looking.  Mom's eraser-bud nipples stood half an inch from
her breasts, their rosy surface beaded and tight and tasty enough to eat.
My cock immediately swelled with those thoughts.  I cursed, silently, and
Mom looked down at my robe as if she could see through it.  She smiled and
said, "Control yourself, sweetie, we're going to be here for a few hours."

   I groaned.

   Mom laughed, smiling that teasing smile of hers.  She looked excited
-"bouncy, energetic, happy -"I laughed too.  I took Mom by her hand and led
her out of the room.  Jen introduced us to the class while we disrobed.  It
felt like my first time, my skin prickled with energy, and Mom smiled and
looked at me as her covering fell to the floor.  Her smile screamed, "What
am I doing?"

   Our first pose was a simple five-minute pose.  Mom and I held hands,
leaning backward, finding a balance between our weights as we stood still.
My eyes met hers, and a contest of wills began.  Who would check out whose
body first?  I knew she wanted to look at mine -"I knew it -"but she kept
focused on my eyes.  My field of vision took in the in her breasts, but
without looking down, I couldn't appreciate them.

   Mom's lips twitched halfway into the pose.  She pressed them together
and swished them from side to side.  Her attempt at making funny faces was
so silly that I started to laugh.  I looked away, to the side, and she
uttered a soft chuckle.  When I looked back, I turned my gaze downward and
devoured her body.

   Mom's breasts received a full minute of my attention.  They were big and
firm, and the two diamond-cutters capping her mounds sent blood coursing
through my shaft.  I swelled, unable to stop myself.  My shaft swelled, my
sack tightened, and I felt my hairs stand on end.  I couldn't look lower,
not until there were only a few seconds left in the pose; otherwise, I'd be
pointing my stiff-rod at Mom's stomach like a wild divining rod.  When I
looked up, she was looking down.

   "I forget how hot it gets holding a pose," Mom said when we let go of
each other.  "At least we get to move in yoga."

   We mimicked the Creation of Adam for our next five-minute pose.  Mom
stood.  I lay on the floor, partially on my side, holding my hand up to her
outstretched arm so our fingertips could touch.  God's flesh was not
touching Adam's in the original, but mine was touching my mother's in our
version.

   We held still.  I felt the slight burn in my arm as time passed, but
that was a whisper in my mind compared to what the rest of my body was
feeling.  Mom stood above me, smiling, her eyes holding a devious light.  I
don't know why they did, but my eyes roamed over her body unafraid.

   I spent most of my time gazing between her legs, slightly parted with
one leg in front of the other.  Her outer pussy lips hung full and thick,
two smooth bulging crescents of flesh pressing together to protect her
inner lips from her son's probing gaze.  I wanted to see between them and
memorize the pink, tallow-slick treasure within.

   I watched her pussy, breathing deeply as my heart beat faster.  A shade
of rose blushed the surface of my mother's labia.  Her scent drifted down
to me, invading my nostrils and my lungs, flavoring my mouth with taboo
spices that left me starving.  When I flicked my gaze upward, Mom's
answering smile and smoldering eyes held an intense, appreciative focus. 
My cock was thicker now, having moved at least once to stretch its length
while I lay idolizing my mother's cunny.

   "Let's take a ten-minute break," Jen said.

   The class put down their brushes.  Mom and I robed-up and went to the
dressing room.

   "This is fun," Mom said.  She shook herself and uttered an energetic
squeak.  "I'm glad we're doing this, baby."

   I nodded my head.  "What do you want to do for the long pose?"

   Mom tilted her head, thinking, and then she said, "Something relaxing. I
know I said no touching, but we should do a pose that allows us to sit or
at least lean against each other."

   "We should test a few in here," I said and patted my robe-covered leg.

   Our robes weren't thick.  These weren't bathrobes.  Mine was thin white
cotton, and Mom's was pinkish-peach silk.  Mom glanced at my thigh where I
had patted my leg.  The expression on her face was the one a woman used
when she was contemplating a cup of coffee after a date.

   "Let's stand this time," Mom said.  "We can end the night by sitting
together."

   I nodded as Mom explained what she wanted to do.  It was a simple pose
that had me standing in front of her with her breasts against my back.  It
was amazing and awful, her nipples dug into my skin and my cock -"which had
softened some -"plumped up gain for those facing me to see.  Mom circled
her arms around my waist.  Instead of holding her palms against my chest as
I had expected, she slid her fingertips down until they rested a breadth
away from my trimmed hairs.  I put my hands over hers and held still.

   Mom's cheek rested against my back.  Her breath warmed my skin, sending
waves of heat across my flesh like a creeping fog.  Her fingers dug into
the top of my pubic mound halfway through our pose, a soft press of her
fingertips that made my asshole tighten and tingle.  Her nipples grew
harder against me, and the head of my prick lifted from my ball sack. 
Fuck.

   I calmed my breathing.  I tried to block out the feel of her soft flesh
even as I tried to absorb the memory of her body pressing into mine.  My
breath came out ragged when Mom shifted her breasts against me, rubbing my
skin with her tender nubs.  I thought I felt her lips touching my skin as
Jen called time.  We robed and went to the dressing room, where I was
finally able to breathe again.

   "Fun?" I asked.

   Mom nodded.  "Very.  A lot of the girls are watching you."

   I shrugged.  "I'm with the only girl who matters."

   Mom laughed and tossed her head, swinging her blonde hair in an
over-the-top manner.  "I'm not a girl.  I'm a woman." She smiled.  "With a
girlish sense of adventure."

   "So, the last pose?" I tapped my thigh.  "Sitting?"

   Mom looked at me, her smile soft and alluring.  "If you can handle my
weight."

   "Let's find out."

   I sat straight-backed on my chair.  Mom moved forward as I spread my
thighs.  She sat on my left leg, circling my shoulders with her right arm.

   "Close your legs," Mom said.  I did, and she hid my crotch with her
right thigh by draping her leg across my knees.  "That's better." Mom
kissed me on the forehead, surprising me.  "But I think I should be leaning
into you, with you behind me this time."

   Mom stood and pushed me back on the chair.  I spread my legs for her as
she sat on the edge, pushing her back against my chest.  She'd be nestling
her lower back and upper butt cheeks against my aching member if we had
more room to move.

   "Put one arm around my shoulders," Mom said, "and the other around my
waist." I did.  "That's it, baby, just like that.  Hold me."

   We continued that pose in the studio.  I placed a lightweight, white
rectangular bench on the dais.  I sat first, with my legs spread open and
my cock semi-hard with lust.  Mom sat between my legs, pressing her naked
body tight to mine and leaned against my chest, resting her head on my
right shoulder.  I slid my right arm around her waist, and she cradled my
forearm in her hands.  I circled her shoulders with my left arm, holding
her close.

   The hour ticked away, accompanied by the sounds of Mom's deep, relaxed
breathing.  I closed my eyes, sighing several times when the warmth of her
butt against my groin caused an unintentional jump of my prick.  Mom moved
her body now and then, not much, but enough to slide her cheeks against my
sensitive crown.  An electric jolt shot through my shaft into my groin
every time she did this.

   We roped up when Jen called time and received the standard appreciative
applause from our audience.  We looked at the paintings for those who
wanted to show off their skills.  We walked hand in hand, though I couldn't
remember who grabbed whose hand first or when.  We dressed after and Jen
met us at the door to her studio.

   "You two were perfect," Jen said.  "There is a natural intimacy between
you guys.  I want to invite you to perform as a couple for one of my after
dark shows."

   "After dark?" Mom asked.

   Jen nodded, putting a disarming hand on Mom's shoulder.  "The setting
will be more intimate, and my artists work to capture the emotions of the
subjects, rather than their physical aspects.  Would you care to model for
us?"

   "Yes," Mom said.  "We'd love to."

   "Thank you," Jen said.  "Prepare yourselves for a sensual evening."

   Mom smiled.  I didn't know what to say.  We said goodbye, and I drove us
home.  Our small talk was small, and the only words Mom said with any
importance to her tone were: "Let me handle your father, baby.  Go along
with whatever I say."

   "Was it fun?" Dad asked as soon as we entered the door.  Half a dozen
empty beer bottles sat on the end table next to the couch.

   "It was exhilarating," Mom said.  "I modeled by myself with a class full
of people watching me.  I think they enjoyed it.  I did."

   Dad frowned.  He turned his head to look at her.

   "Well, it was," Mom said.  "And Chris posed with me."

   "What?" Dad asked.  "Why?"

   "Because he could, because he was there," Mom said.  "I wanted him to.
It was like a family portrait.  You were the only person missing."

   Dad shrugged and waved his beer at her.  "Take a digital and have them
work off that.  Who wants to sit around for hours doing nothing?"

   I looked at the TV and then at Dad and his beers.  I said, "I'm going to
upstairs."

   As I walked upstairs, I heard Dad ask, "Who liked looking at you?"

   An hour after I lay in bed, my bedroom door opened.  Mom walked in, her
short robe dropping to mid-thigh.  Light from the hallway turned her body
into a moving silhouette.  She sat on the side of my bed and sighed.

   "Everything okay?" I asked.

   "It's your father," Mom said.  "The class made him jealous."

   "Oh."

   "He tried to 'show me' that he loved me, but. . . ."

   Oh.

   "It's not the same as it once was," Mom said.  She moved closer to me,
placing her hand on my chest.  I felt her eyes on mine.  "I put a lot
effort into me and us, but he doesn't put any into himself or me or us."
She rubbed my chest.  "But you do, baby.  I appreciate that more than you
know."

   "I like doing it," I said, covering her hand with mine and squeezing. 
"I love spending time with you."

   "Thank you." Mom lowered her head, kissing me on the cheek.  "You make
me proud." She moved her head to the side, touching her lips to mine.  It
was a motherly kiss, but more so, sensual and non-threatening, speaking
words without sound that my heart absorbed.

   When Mom pulled away, she said, "We're going to have to practice our
intimacy before Jen's next class." She stood, drifting her hand across my
chest until her touch faded from my flesh.  "By the pool tomorrow when we
tan and leave the night to me.  I'll handle your father."

   I couldn't speak.

   "Goodnight, baby."

   "Goodnight, Mom," I managed to say before she left.

   Getting Comfortable

   I woke up feeling as if I had slept a year.  I had clear thoughts in my
head.  I had direction and purpose, drive, and I dressed for my morning
workout with limbs buzzing with excitement.  Mom was awake, coffeed up, and
ready to go.

   "Morning," Mom said, her smile bright.  "Ready to have some fun with
Momma?"

   "More than," I said.  No blush touched my cheeks.  No embarrassment
shook my voice.  I was ready for today and tomorrow and our every moment
together from now until forever.

   Our workout went by fast.  Not just in time, but in our actions as well.
Our movements were fluid and quick, in constant motion, and we took the
minimum amount of time between sets before we moved onto the next.  Mom's
eagerness bled from her, and her desire to rush through our workout filled
my body with nervous energy.  Our jog turned into a run, and we finished
our three-mile circuit in half the time it usually took us.

   "That was exhilarating," Mom said as we stepped back into the house. 
"We should run like that at least once a week, don't you think?  I feel
energized."

   "Yeah," I said.  "I feel good, alive."

   "It's good to let go," Mom said.  She cupped my cheek.  "Ready to tan?"
She smiled.  "It's the perfect way to get ready for tomorrow night's gig."

   "I've been ready all morning."

   "That's so sweet."

   We walked to the backyard, still sweating and in our workout clothes.  I
didn't hesitate to kick off my shoes and socks and toss my shirt.

   "You're eager," Mom said.  "I wonder why?

   I smiled, only a little bashful, but I removed my shorts and undershorts
in one quick motion.  Mom's eyes took me in from the hairs on my head down
to my toes, lingering below my waist before returning to my eyes.

   "It's a good thing I've seen it before," Mom said.  "You'd make some
girls nervous with that thing." Her words made me blush and fed my ego, but
her teasing tone reminded me that she was my mother and liked to poke fun
at me.

   Mom took her time undressing.  She peeled her sports bra over her
breasts, the tight Lycra clinging to her flesh hard enough to press them
down against her chest.  Her tits bounced when they came free, up and down
and settled high on her chest.  Her skin glistened with sweat from our run.
Her gray leggings came next, exposing her round butt and smooth thighs to
me.  She stopped, turned to me, and said, "Get my shoes, baby."

   I knelt in front of mom, lowering my face close to her thighs.  Mom
lifted her left leg.  I held the back of her calf with my left hand and
slid the sneaker off with my right.  She raised her right, and I removed
that sneaker, dragging my right hand down her calf to her socked-toes.  Her
sweat permeated my nostrils, sparking an animalist desire in me to run my
hand up the back of her calf and over her hamstring.

   "Might as well take my pants off for me since you're down there," Mom
whispered.

   Her thin, cotton pants yoga pants were wet with sweat.  I curled my
fingers into the fabric and peeled it down her calves and off her feet,
which she lifted one at a time for me.  I took her socks next, just because
I could.  When I pulled back, I admired Mom's white cotton thong that
hugged inward against her pussy lips, highlighting the two soft crescents
of her outer labia.

   "Do you want to take these off for me too?" Mom asked, laughing.  I
reached my hands up.  Mom laughed, slapping them away.  "Really, Chris?"

   "If it helps us."

   Mom's smile put a twinkle in her eyes.  "Okay, baby, but unlike
breastfeeding, you can't brag about touching your mother's panties."

   "I won't."

   "I'm not going to watch this," she said, teasing.  She faced away, with
her feet planted at shoulder width.

   I looked at my mother's golden butt.  It was bigger than a year ago, due
to new strength and firmness that sloped in a mouthwatering display of
sensuality.  Standing as she was, her thong slipped into her crack, but not
all the way and her pussy lips sat snugly against the gusset of her panties
like a soft muffin rising in the oven.  My mouth watered at seeing her
pussy-bulge hang sweetly between her open thighs.

   I looked up, making sure that my mother was still facing away.  I moved
my nose within inches of her maternal opening.  I breathed in, sighing on
the inside as her sweat and sexual scent filled my lungs.

   "Hurry up," Mom said, bouncing on her toes.  Her butt shook.  "I'm not
standing on a pedestal."

   "You're on my pedestal," I said, voice low.

   "Aw," Mom said.  "Hurry up anyway."

   I wanted to take my time, but I had taken too much already.  I curled my
fingers against her waistline and pulled down, turning her thong inside out
as I dropped them to the cement around the pool.  Mom's ass and pussy were
open to me, but she turned around before I had the chance to appreciate her
pink softness.  I sat on my lounge chair, sighing.

   "Baby, take this," Mom said.  She grabbed the suntan lotion and handed
me the bottle.  "We need to get used to each other's bodies, so go ahead
and lotion mine." Mom laughed.  "All but the naughty bits, baby.  I'm not
Alexis Fawx."

   "I know you're not."

   "Mm-hmm," Mom said.  She put on her big sunglasses.  "Start with my
backside."

   She lay on her front, her forearms under her chin as she looked forward.
A thrill raced through me, starting at my heart and surging through my
entire body.  My cock jumped, tingling, hardening -"ready to go full-mast
with or without my consent.

   I squirted the lotion onto Mom's back, near her shoulder blades.  She
sighed, stretched and relaxed again.  I started at her shoulders, spreading
my hands over her body, awed by how big they looked against her naked
frame. Mom purred when I ran my palms over her shoulders, her skin like
silk, and she encouraged me to "Dig in" as I rubbed my fingertips along her
neck.  I did her arms, which she held out for me one at a time, and when I
slid my fingers over her hands, she interlocked her fingers with mine for a
brief moment.

   More lotion went onto her shoulder blades and further down her spine.  I
massaged her lower back with outward rowing motions.  I stood, urging Mom
to spread her legs and I knelt on the cushions of her lounge chair with my
right knee.  I moved my palms downward, right to the dividing line where
her back slipped into her buttocks and went no further.  Mom sighed, long
and low.  I slid my slick fingers down her sides, held her hips for a
moment, and then moved upward.

   "Careful," Mom warned when I neared the sides of her breasts.  I went as
close to those mounds as I could.  My forefingers were a tenth of a second
from touching the bottoms of her tits before I pulled away.  Mom shivered.
Her skin glowed.  I was in love.

   "Legs now," I said, adding in an unsure whisper, "keep them open for
me?"

   Mom's body trembled.

   I started at her ankles and moved up her calves, staring between her
legs the entire time.  I followed the V of her thighs up to the creamy
folds of her soft kitty.  My heartbeat thundered.  My cock lunged forward,
flooding with lust.  Mom's outer folds snuggled up to her inner lips, which
were pressed together like the two halves of a stage's velvet curtains
before they opened to reveal the show.

   I rubbed my lotion-slick hands across Mom's calves, making several
passes between her ankles and the backs of her knees.  I applied pressure
to my mother's skin, which made her groan in appreciation.

   "It feels good to be touched like this again," Mom whispered.  "You're
so careful and thorough."

   I continued upward, past her knees and her groans at having her muscles
loosened turned into a low moan that came from the pit of her stomach.  The
texture of her thighs hardened my cock all the way.  I couldn't stop to
give myself time to soften, I had my hands on the backs of my mother's
thighs, nearing her ass and I didn't know if I was going to stop before
things became indecent.

   "Careful, baby," Mom said the higher I went.  "Baby, careful."

   Mom's voice got through to me.  I stopped where her ass cheeks met her
thighs.  Pushing my fingertips into her skin, I dragged my hands downward,
leaving her curves glistening with lotion.  I ran my hands down the sides
of her legs several times, before moving my hands to the inside of her
thighs, even at the knee-for the moment.

   Mom's breath caught.

   I moved upward, applying more pressure that made her legs open as far as
the lounge chair would comfortably allow.  I was mid-way across her thighs
when she hissed, forcing me to pause, but only for a second.  Higher I
went, my thumbs and forefingers spread, her soft inner flesh gliding
against the curved web connecting my digits.

   "Baby," Mom warned the closer to her glistening center I came.  "Baby."
The slot between her inner lips shined with newly forming dew.  She uttered
her words in a higher pitch.  "Baby!"

   I stopped my hands less than an inch from her outer labia.  I held my
fingers there and then I pushed outward, pulling on her skin until her wet
pussy lips parted under the pressure of my touch.  Mom moaned.  A line of
clear honey stretched between her inner lips, and the inside heat of her
pussy washed over my fingertips.  I groaned, a hungry sound, unable to stop
myself.  I smoothed my hands back down her legs before letting go of my
mother's body completely.

   "Time for your front," I whispered.

   Mom was panting.

   "Your front," I said more urgent this time.

   Mom slid her right hand under her body, between her legs, and below her
pussy with her palm facing upward.  "Give me some lotion, baby."

   I poured a dollop onto her fingertips.  She closed them over her cunny,
hiding her silky sex from my eyes as she worked the lotion into her squishy
folds.  I watched as she kneaded her lips, and a spurt of pre-cum beaded my
cock.  I wiped it way while she massaged the lotion into her twat.

   "Since you can't, I better," Mom said, breathing heavy.  She rubbed the
excess into her butt cheeks, pulling both hills apart and giving me a
wide-angle view of her smooth asshole as she lathered the narrow valley
through her crack.

   I almost dropped the bottle.  Mom took her time, swirling her finger
around her anal-ring once in a slow-motion circle that made my cock bob up
and down.  Mom turned over.  I couldn't see behind her tinted glasses, but
she could see my eyes and more.  I looked down, remembering that my cock
was fully hard.

   "It's okay, baby," Mom said.  "It's natural." She laughed.  "I'm
flattered, and I'm a little, well, you saw.  Better here than when we
model, and I have nowhere to run."

   "Yeah," I said, "better in private." I didn't blush.  My voice didn't
shake.  I flexed my cock, making Mom laugh.  She turned her head to the
side.

   "Do my front," Mom said.  "Everywhere -"but -"you know where."

   I poured the lotion into my hands and rubbed them over Mom's shoulders
and upper chest, staying away from her breasts.  Her breathing deepened. 
Her nipples puckered into tight silos of rosy flesh.  I massaged her sides
and then her stomach, impressed by the firmness of her muscles.  She didn't
have a six-pack or the outline of one, but she did have a smooth wash of
muscle that led down to the sharp cuts of her hips cutting across her
waistline.

   I continued downward, avoiding my mother's mound no matter how much that
soft triangle tempted me.  Focusing on the outside and tops of her thighs,
I worked the lotion into her skin, bringing soft moans and catches of
breath from her lips as I massaged my mother down to her feet and then back
up to her knees.

   "Spread for me, Mom," I whispered to her when I placed my hands on her
inner thighs.  Mom's breath trembled, but she opened her legs for me. 
"Bend your knees up and open your legs, so I can see where I'm touching." I
coughed.  "I don't want to go too far on accident."

   Mom pursed her lips into a funny smile.  Her eyes drilled into me, the
strength of her gaze overwhelming, even behind her shades.  She did as I
said, pulling her feet up and bending her knees.  She placed the soles of
her feet together and opened her legs like a bear-trap beneath me.

   My cock pulsed, forcing a teardrop of pre-cum through the shaft and out
of its tip.  Mom's pussy glistened with lotion, her lips dotted with her
morning dew, or maybe sweat from the heat of the moment.  Below her pussy,
her perineum and her asshole shined.  Sweat dripped from my forehead.  Her
slit opened for me, spreading wide enough to tease me with her pink walls
as the tender meat of her insides pressed together, creating a closed seam
that I wanted to open with my tongue.

   I pushed a wave of lotion up Mom's inner thighs.  My thumbs and
forefingers formed a widening bracket the closer to my mother's pussy they
came.  Mom's breathing deepened.  Her stomach rolled in I snake-like wave.
I was close and getting closer.  Mom opened her legs wider, spreading her
inner pink as much as she could.  My fingers touched her thighs where they
flowed into her outer lips.  I stopped, right there, right before putting
my hands on her labia.  I was so close to touching her shimmering line of
wetness, and as I stared, a stream of whitish cream seeped from between her
silky folds.  I groaned and pulled away.

   "Thank you," Mom said, her voice shaky.  She grabbed the lotion and
finished the spots I was not allowed to touch.

   How could this get any better, I thought when Mom twirled her nipples
between her fingers.  I wanted tonight to come right now.

   "Lay on your stomach, baby, if you can," Mom said.  She laughed.  "The
cushions are soft, but. . . ."

   I looked at my cock and then at the lounge chair.  If pressing that
stiff bastard between my body and something else meant that Mom would be
putting her hands on me, then I'd lay on fire without a wince.  The torture
wouldn't come from being on my stomach; it would come from not being
touched by my mother in the ways that I craved.

   "It won't be a problem," I said.

   "No?" Mom asked as I laid my cock on the cushions and flatted it against
my stomach.  "I was sure it was going to be a big problem."

   I laughed, my cock swelling with pride.  My mother just complimented me
on my big dick -"surreal.

   Mom touched me with a mother's softness, tracing my muscles the way a
mother would when her child hurts themselves.  She took her time, pushing
the lotion ahead of her fingers in a silent wave of absorption as she
memorized the feel of my body.  From my shoulders down to my hands and
sliding her fingers between my fingers, her caress made my heart flutter.
Her touch was more than motherly: A possible promise of things to come?

   My mother's hands hesitated when they neared my butt, but not for long.
Her fingers slipped over the taut meat of my muscular ass.  I jumped,
rubbing my cock against the soft cushions of the lounge chair, and I sighed
as the welcomed friction.

   "It's okay," Mom said.  She brushed her fingertip over my butt, really
digging her fingers into the firmness of my ass cheeks.  "It's different
for mothers." She squeezed me.  "We birthed our sons.  We raised you and
took care of you." She ran her thumbs through the crack of my ass.  "We let
you suck on our tits."

   I groaned as Mom's tone changed from soft to rough.  She poured lotion
onto the back of my thighs, each drop making me jump as they slid downward.
Mom's hands weren't shy about sliding between my legs and then upward,
cupping my balls gently with her left hand.

   "Mom," I gasped.

   "I've got you, baby," Mom whispered.  "Moms are allowed to touch their
sons.  We've earned that right."

   "I'm not complaining," I gasped as her fingers circled my nut sack and
pulled, slowly stroking my tightening scrotum.  Electric thrills buzzed
through me, weakening my thighs as they pulsated with pleasure.

   "Up, on your knees, baby," Mom said.  "Get on your hands and knees for
Mommy."

   I obeyed my mother.  I pushed myself onto my hands and spread my knees
wider.  She was on her knees, at my side, her left hand cupping my balls
from behind and her right hand reaching under me to touch my stomach.  She
slid her hand downward, over my trimmed hairs, pulling them gently, and
then she circled the base of my cock with her fingers.

   "Fuck," I said, hissing the word.

   "We can't do that," Mom whispered.  "But we can do this." She stroked my
cock.  I groaned aloud.  "That's right, baby, let Mommy hear you."

   Fuck!  I groaned again, louder.  Her hand glided over my shaft, down to
my head, pulling the flesh gripping my erection over my circumcised knob.
The extra effort to cover my tip with my skin sent an unholy tingle through
my asshole that made me groan with pleasure.

   "Baby," Mom whispered.  "One day, you're going to make some girl face
her fears with this big dick." She shook my cock and stroked me faster. 
Harder.  She fondled my balls with gentle, oscillating waves of her
fingers. "You've always been good to me." Mom added a twist to her stroking
motions.  "So let Mommy be good to you."

   "Fuck," I moaned, getting ready to come.

   "Don't stain my cushions," Mom warned.

   I grabbed the towel from the floor and placed it under my cock.  My hips
started jerking, trying to fuck my mother's grip as she jerked me off.

   "That's it, Chris," Mom said, her voice rising with excitement as my
moans grew frantic.  "You can be a naughty boy for your mother this one
time." She licked the side of my ass cheek with a long wet stroke of her
tongue.  "I'm a bit of a dirty girl -"a bad Mommy."

   "I'm close, Mom."

   "But you wouldn't know that," Mom whispered, her voice intense, "because
you can't hear me getting fucked from your room." Her teeth closed over the
side of my ass cheek, pinching my meat and muscle, and that broke me.

   "Mom," I moaned and came.  Pleasure exploded from my balls, shooting
through my shaft and onto the towel in thick robes of white jizz.  I felt
every quick, body-shaking rush of cum that billowed through my urethra. 
Mom laughed, excited and pleased as I shook and trembled under her touch.

   "There, baby, there," Mom said, patting my ass and squeezing my glans.
"We're just getting used to each other, that's all."

   I lay down, breathing heaving, nearly panting as my muscles collapsed
like water.

   Mom stood and bent over me, lowering her lips close to my ear.  "That's
enough for this morning.  I may have gone too far.  I need to go to my
gallery, but we should practice again tonight when your father is watching
TV and drinking his beers."

   "Definitely," I whispered.

   "Leave it to me, baby." Mom rubbed my butt one last time, sinking her
fingers into my crack.  "I'll let you know when." She licked my ear and
walked away.

   I don't know what I was expecting the night to bring, but when Mom said,
"Doug, let Chris and me have the couch," I knew that wasn't it.  "Take the
recliner."

   "What?" Dad asked, looking up for where he lay.  "Why do you need the
couch?"

   "I told you that Chris and I would be modeling together tomorrow night,"
Mom said.  "We need to get comfortable with each other."

   Dad mumbled something, maybe "I don't get it." He was on his sixth beer
at home, but who knew how many he drank while at work and then after with
the boys, before one of his mechanics dropped him off at home.

   "Chris, go change while I talk to your father," Mom said.

   Change into what?  Mom had changed earlier, and she was wearing her
white satin shorts with the loose leg holes and a matching button-up top,
fancy pajamas.  I went upstairs and changed into a pair of basketball
shorts and a thin workout shirt, the last thing I heard my mother say was:
"If Chris doesn't get used to holding me, embarrassing things. . . ."

   I didn't know how long a conversation like that was going to take, so I
stayed in my room for a lot longer than I think was necessary.  Mom was
lying on the couch by the time I headed downstairs.  She had a thin blanket
covering her and Dad was sitting in the leather recliner, his beer replaced
by a twelve-ounce tumbler holding whiskey and Coke, probably half-and-half,
plus ice.

   "You don't find this weird?" Dad asked me.

   I shrugged.  "It's art.  It's supposed to be weird, right?"

   "I don't know," Dad said, mumbling.  "Who was that artist that cut off
his pecker?"

   "His ear," I said.  "Van -""

   "Chris, get under the blanket," Mom said, killing Dad's conversation. 
"Behind me and don't mind your father, he's jealous."

   Dad laughed and sipped his whiskey.

   Mom moved forward on the couch, allowing me to slip behind her.  Dad had
turned the recliner as much as he could in our direction without being
obvious, which meant he couldn't see anything past the wings jutting
forward from the backrest.  Still, as I crawled behind my mother, I could
see his transparent and incomplete reflection in the TV screen, which
probably meant he could see mine, barely.

   Mom pressed against me as I settled in behind her.  I flushed as our
body heat intensified the warmth between us.  "Don't be afraid, sweetie,"
Mom said.  "Put your arms around me.  I'm not going to bite you." She
laughed.  "I'm your mother."

   Dad laughed, neither loud nor quiet, and it seemed that he was laughing
to himself.

   I curled my right arm, the lower arm, under Mom's head.  She used my
bicep as a pillow.  I put my left hand on her hip, and she covered the back
of my hand with her palm.  My hairs stood on end, and then she pressed her
butt against my groin.

   "There, sweetie, see, there's no reason to feel weird," Mom said.  "We
used to lie like this all the time when you were younger." Mom laughed,
sounding silly.  "But I was behind you."

   I didn't feel weird, but I knew her words were not for me.  Dad grumbled
something that sounded like "So did we." He clicked to a baseball game and
drank more from his whiskey and Coke.

   The smell of Mom's air reminded me of flowers, the kind of scent that
stays with you long after you've moved on.  My cock hardened as I lay
pressed against Mom's firm, but yielding backside.  She pushed back when my
semi-stiffness prodded between her cheeks.  She rubbed her butt against me
under the blanket, without disturbing the surface of our covering.  I
glanced at the side of my father's chair, and then at his reflection on the
TV screen, but the screen was too bright to see if he was watching us or if
he could.

   Dad placed his drink in the left arm's coaster.  He leaned back, tilting
the chair under his weight.  His every movement was loud to my ears.  I was
watching him, but when I flicked my eyes downward, Mom was watching the TV,
unafraid.  She pushed her butt back into me and whispered, "Get
comfortable, baby."

   I lowered my head, pressing my mouth against her hair for a moment to
suppress a groan.  She nudged my head upward.  The sound of a bat hitting
the ball made me look at the TV.  Dad took another drink of his whiskey and
Coke -"that's right, numb yourself to the world, I silently urged him.

   I tightened my fingers against Mom's hip, feeling her flesh, and
firmness, her bone, and I curled my fingers back and forth across waist,
reaching down as far as I could over her shirt.  Mom shifted her body, her
hand atop mine sliding off and upward, taking the hem of her shirt with her
and giving me access to her bare stomach.

   I glanced at her.  She stared forward, the left side of her face awash
in silvery-gray light.  She didn't look at me or move her hand back to
mine, but she rotated her hips against my groin.  My cock lost its worry
and hardened to its full length, pressing into the narrow crevice between
her cheeks.  Mom's visible eye closed, and she turned her head, a look of
concentration on her face as she settled her butt against my knob.

   Dad lifted his glass and drank.  His reflection was nearly nonexistent
in the TV.  Mine would be too, right?  Right.  I slid my hands down Mom's
stomach until I was touching the couch, and then I moved back up, my pinkie
skirting the waistline of her satin shorts.  I dipped my forefinger into
her shallow belly button, making her flinch.  She pulled the corners of her
lips into a smile.

   I moved my hand in slow circles under the blanket, careful to watch how
our covering shifted under my manipulations.  Mom had lotioned her skin,
and as my hand glided over her smooth flesh, the rigid lines of my
finger-printed skin tingled with a light, feathery energy.

   I brushed my mother's waistline again and dug my cock into her ass.  Mom
breathed deep, but when my fingertips dipped beneath her shorts, she caught
my wrist with her left hand and kept me from venturing lower.  I didn't
press, but on my return trip upward across her right side to her right
breasts, I spread my fingers wide and cupped the underside of Mom's large,
braless tit in the arched curve between my thumb and forefinger.

   Dad lifted his drink and sipped, putting it back in place a moment
later, his arm motions slower than before.  The game went to commercial. 
He didn't change the channel.  I tightened my grip, gently pressing against
the underside of Mom's firm mound.  Her shoulders stiffened.  She took a
deep, shaky breath, but she didn't try to stop me.

   I moved to Mom's left breast, squeezing the underside and rocking my
hips against her ass, rubbing my cock into the satin-covered crease between
her cheeks.  I was humping my mother, fuck!  Her breathing deepened.  She
placed her left hand on my hip, clutching at my body as she danced her butt
against me as a lover would.

   I lowered my hand, back to her waist, and she stopped me again, gripping
me hard when my fingertips touched low enough to discover no panty line
encircling her hips.  I kept from groaning -"the fucking tease -"and I
lifted my hand to her right breast again, cupping the firm mound fully
within my palm.

   Mom's lips parted, releasing a calming breath.  I squeezed her tit and
humped my cock harder against her ass, moving her body on the couch.  She
fought back against my thrusts, grinding her butt against the tip of my
dick.  Dad drank again, longer this time.  When he put the cup down, his
hand slid to the side, hanging lifeless over the chair's armrest.  I pumped
my prick faster against my mother's butt.

   "That's it, baby," Mom said, her words rushed, "get used to me.  Get
comfortable."

   I strummed my fingers across her rosy right nipple, its rubbery
thickness bending under my pressure.  I pulled.  Mom gasped.  Her left hand
slipped between us, grabbing my cock through my shorts.  She squeezed my
shaft around the base and ground her butt harder against me, turning my
dick in circles.

   I let go of her tit and slid my hand -"fingers first -"down her stomach,
pushing under her waistband and managing to get my fingers onto her golden
pubic hairs before she caught me with her right hand.  She squeezed my
prick, hard, and tugged against my wrist.

   "Let me," I whispered into her ear.

   "No, baby," Mom said.  "You can't get too comfortable with me."

   I pushed harder.  Mom fought harder.  She turned onto her back, looking
up at me and shaking her head while holding my hand against her mound.  She
jerked my cock through my shorts, forcing a low groan from my lips.  The
heat, drifting up from her pussy, dampened my palm.

   "Mom -""

   Dad snored.  We both paused until he mumbled something and went back to
sleep.  My cock throbbed.  I pushed it against my mother's thigh, humping
her leg under the blanket like a horny dog.

   "I know, baby," Mom said.  "I know you want my pussy.  All sons want
their mothers' fuck-holes."

   I growled, holding most of that animalistic sound within my chest.

   "It's natural, baby," Mom said.  "To you want your mother.  To want to
go back from where you came from." She turned on her side, facing me and
freeing her mound from my grasp.  "Grab my ass, baby, and let Mommy take
care of you."

   I slid my hands down her back and over her butt, the satin cloth skating
through my fingers, but it wasn't enough.  I went lower.  To her leg holes
and pulled up, exposing my mother's ass cheeks as I turned her shorts into
a thong.

   "That's it, baby," Mom said as I cupped her bare butt flesh.  She pushed
her right hand between us, into my shorts.  Her fingers wrapped around my
shaft, squeezing me hard.  "You have a big dick that wants me, don't you,
you bad boy?"

   I nodded my head.  I snaked my fingers into the crack of my mother's ass
as her firm skin filled my palms.  Fuck, but she was hot and taut in my
hands.  Her ass had the right amount of meat to hold onto while still
letting me feel the muscles lingering below her skin.

   "You're a naughty fucker, Chris," Mom whispered, almost hissing the
words.  "Getting hard for your mother like this." Her breath scalded my
chin.  She pulled my cock upward, having to move her body so the head and
shaft could push past the waistband of my shorts.  She wiggled her left
hand between us, cupping my balls.  "Fuck, baby, I don't want you wearing
underwear in my house anymore."

   "God," I panted, humping my cock upward through my mother's hand.

   "We're comfortable now, aren't we, baby?" Mom pushed her ass against my
palms.  My fingers brushed her asshole.  "Ooh, you dirty fucking boy,
touching Mommy's asshole like that."

   She continued jerking me off.  The game went on, the announcers talking,
interrupted by Dad's snoring, but he never woke -"not that I could tell,
but my attention wasn't on him.  My mind and body focused on my mother's
hands, on her dirty words, on the flesh of her ass branding my palms with
their heat.

   "I want you," I panted.  "I want to fuck you."

   "Mm," Mom whispered as my pre-cum glazed her fingers.  She rubbed the
slimy liquid over my knob and jerked me harder.  "With this big dick?  With
this fucking cock in my hands?  You want to stick this into your mother's
creamy cock-slot?"

   "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I moaned.  "Yes."

   Mom caressed my balls, making my hairs stand on end.  "You can't have my
pussy, baby." Mom jerked me faster, my pre-cum coated shaft creating wet
noises as she stroked me.  "You can want it.  You can dream of it, and I'll
let you look at it, but you can't have it.  It's too fucking wrong to fuck
your slutty mother."

   I came, giving no warning, and Mom uttered a strangled, delighted sound
from between her pursed lips as I splattered our shirts with my seed.  She
kept pumping my prick as I shivered under her touch, doing my best to hide
my broken moans of pleasure.

   "There, baby, there," Mom said.  "Get it all out, baby.  Let Mommy have
your hot cum."

   I did, and when my breathing returned to normal, she said, "Watch," and
my mother lifted her cum-soaked fingers to her mouth and licked them clean.
"I think we're ready for tomorrow."

   She left me on the couch as I dripped sweat and smelled like sex.  Dad
was still asleep when I went upstairs to shower, but he was no longer
snoring.

   Early Morning Visit

   Sleep did not come right away.  My shower had cooled off my flesh, but
it had done nothing to relieve the heat that pulsated throughout my body. I
was tempted to walk down the hallway to Mom's room, but I couldn't make
myself do it.  She had said no to the one thing I wanted most -"her
completely.  I went to bed naked and atop my covers, my cock in a constant
state of semi-hard arousal.  I touched, and I held back, staring at my door
with my mom on my mind.  I hadn't locked my door, and I would later be
thankful I hadn't.

   Dad stumbling through the hallway woke me from my half-sleep.  My
doorknob turned five minutes later, pushed open by my mother from the other
side.  She walked in and closed the door, shuttering my room in darkness.

   "No lights," Mom said.  I was aware of her walking across my room right
before she sat on my bed.  "Your father wanted to prove something to me."
Her hands slid across my sheets, coming to rest on my left bicep.  "But he
doesn't appreciate me.  I can't sleep with a man who doesn't appreciate me,
even if he is willing to take what he wants." Mom lay down next to me. 
"But you appreciate me so much."

   But I don't take? My shaft hardened as blood rushed through my veins.

   "I told your father I wanted to sleep with a man who could do both." Mom
rubbed my chest.  "So I told him I was going to sleep in your room for
now." She lay against me, her naked flesh hot against my body.  "You're
comfortable with me, right, baby?"

   "Very," I said, turning on my side toward her.  I slid my knee between
her legs.  She let me.  Within seconds my thigh pressed into the dampness
between my mother's legs.

   "Me too," Mom whispered.  She rolled her pussy over my thigh.  "I've
been watching those Alexis Fawx videos you like so much."

   "Mom -""

   "Her stepmother videos," Mom said.  "Her fetish videos.  I like them a
lot."

   I put my hand on Mom's hip, sliding down her thigh and then back up. 
She sighed.  I continued upward over her ribs and cupped her breast in my
hand.  Mom's moan sounded loud in the darkness.  I let the fullness of her
breast fill my palm and then I squeezed, enjoying the yielding softness of
her tit.

   "I like them, too," I said and leaned my face forward, kissing my mother
on her forehead.  I lowered my body on the bed, coming even with her mouth
and kissed her again.

   "Mm," Mom sighed into my lips.  She didn't open them, but she allowed me
to lick my tongue across her mouth.

   "Let me in," I whispered.

   "We're more comfortable than we should be," Mom said and opened her
mouth.

   We kissed.  Mom's tongue intertwined with mine in ways that most mothers
would call immoral, while secretly wishing they could experience a moment
like that with their sons.

   "We can only go so far," Mom whispered.

   I slid my hand down her side, moving behind her as I forced my left hand
under her body.  I cupped her ass, groaning as the meat of her buns filled
my palms.  Soft on the outside, but the more I squeezed, the firmer they
became.  Our workouts had turned her butt into twin hills of malleable
perfection.

   "That's it, baby," Mom whispered, "hold Mommy like you want to."

   I used my mother's butt to pull her up my thigh, grinding her pussy
against my flesh and rubbing her clit as I pushed my leg hard against her
sex.  Mom moaned, low and long.  I rolled her onto her back, sinking my
weight into her.  Her thick nipples rubbed my chest, poking into my skin as
her breasts flattened under me.  I used my knees to spread her legs, and
Mom pushed against my hips with her hands.

   "No, baby," Mom said as my erection pressed lengthwise across the bottom
of her pussy.  "No fucking.  I mean it."

   "Mom," I groaned, sawing my cock between her slippery folds, fucking her
soft lips and spreading them around the top of my shaft.  "I want you,
Mom."

   "I know, baby, I know," Mom said, soothing me.  Her legs locked around
my thighs, holding me tight against her, keeping me from finding the room
to fit my knob against her slippery opening.  "Not now, baby.  No." She
pulled my hips tight between her open legs.

   "Fuck," I groaned, forcing my body away from my mother's.  The tip of my
dick brushed her tiny wet hole.  Her body jerked back, but I kept moving
upward, laying my cock across her mound.  I let go of her ass and hooked my
arms behind her knees, and surged forward, bending her body double.

   "No, baby," Mom uttered, a note of panic in her voice.  I had spread her
knees wide, and they were nearly touching my mattress.  I tilted her pussy
up and back, opening her wet seam for penetration, and there was nothing
she could do about it if I decided to fuck her right then.  Her pussy was
open and helpless, and it was mine, all fucking mine.

   I groaned again, fitting the thick vein running along the underside of
my shaft between the soft folds of her muff.  Her lips spread around me,
wet and warm, coating me with her hot honey.  I started fucking my dick
over her opening, sliding my length against her, humping her soaked canyon
while pushing down hard against her clit at the same time.

   "Oh, fuck," Mom moaned, her surprise exciting me.  "Yeah, baby, you can
fuck Mommy like this.  Just like this.  Good boy.  Naughty boy."

   "For now," I growled, pressing my lips close to hers.  "But I want you."

   "Mm," Mom moaned, "I know you -"uh -"do.  I can feel how eager your big
fucking dick wants in." Mom whimpered, letting her sounds fill my room. 
"My son's big dick wants into Mommy's pussy, doesn't it baby?"

   "Yes," I said, fucking the lips of her twat faster, using longer strokes
so I could rub her little jewel with my entire prick.

   "Maybe, baby," Mom moaned.  "Maybe one day -"umm -"soon." Her voice
cracked as I worked the rubbery pleasure nub at the peak of her slit.

   I felt Mom's tits bouncing under me.  I wanted to suck them into my
mouth.  She humped her hips upward, trying to slide her sopping wet
juice-box against my shaft.  We kissed, and her tongue flicked against
mine.

   "Uh, yeah, grind your cock against Mommy's pussy," Mom moaned.  "You
fucking big boy -"my naughty fucking son -"trying to take your father's
pussy away."

   "God, Mom," I grunted, thrusting my knob downward through her lips and
nudging her hole.

   "No, baby," Mom said, panicked again.  She grabbed my ass as best she
could to keep me from moving lower.  My cock slipped over her mound again.
"Make Mommy come, baby.  Keep fucking me like this and make me come.  Make
your mother come with your big, fat cock."

   Our bodies slid together.  Sweat dripped down our skin despite the cool
of the room.  Mom tensed, her muscles firming under me and liquid heat
spilled from her wet slash in a frothy mixture of excitement and cream.  My
cock glided through her, pressing her pink pearl against her pubic bone,
and then she came.  Mom uttered a series of helpless moans -"high pitched
whimpers that sent my humping hips into overdrive.

   "Oh, fuck, baby, fuck," Mom cried.  She dug her nails into the flesh of
my ass.  "Coming baby -"oh god -"I'm coming on my son's cock."

   My balls tingled as a fresh wave of cummy cream coated my dick.  A
light, anxious energy engulfed my knob and tightened my asshole and then I
came, spraying a thick load of jizz onto my mother's stomach.  I trembled,
clenching my jaw as several secondary spurts splashed across my mother's
flawless skin.

   "Fuck," I whispered, falling onto Mom's body.

   "Yeah, baby," Mom said.  "You're a fucking workout all by yourself."

   Mom wrapped her arms around my neck, her lips touched mine, and she
dipped her tongue inside my mouth.  Our lingual muscles connected, sliding
against each other.  We kissed, wet and soft, relaxing and loud, and the
heat of our bodies went from hot to hotter.  I felt like I was devouring
her and my cock hardened again, wanting more.

   "Oh, look at that," Mom whispered against my lips.  "I should go before
we go too far."

   "No," I said.  "Don't go."

   "I better.  You can abuse your mother another time, I promise."

   Mom slid her small body from underneath mine.  I growled.  I knew my
room, even in the dark, and I crawled from my bed, led by instinct to my
mother's body.  I pressed myself into her from behind, the spongy head of
my cock leading the way.  It hit the bottom of her ass, right between her
cheeks and slipped upward, sinking between buns like a thick, juicy
bratwurst.

   "Chris," Mom gasped.

   She moved forward, but I stayed with her.  I cupped her breasts as we
collided with my door.  Mom pushed against it, fighting for the extra space
that I wouldn't give her.  I started fucking my cock between her butt
cheeks while playing with her tits, pinching and pulling her hard nipples
in my hands rough enough to make her whimper.

   "Baby, baby," Mom moaned, helpless to move.  "Oh, you little bastard."

   "I am," I said, licking her ear as her body strained against me.  "I'm
your little bastard."

   My fingers led the way as I lowered my hands over her stomach.  I
covered her mound, running my thumbs through her landing strip and then I
was bracketing her pussy lips with my forefingers.  I pressed my thumbs
together and hooked them over her clit, mashing her wet ruby against her
pubic bone.

   "God," Mom gasped, "that's so fucking good.  Mm -"baby -"you're touching
Mommy's pussy like a pro." She swiveled her hips, grinding her slimy pearl
harder against my thumbs.

   I fucked my dick through her ass and squeezed her outer lips together,
where they swelled against her clit.  I kept this up, pushing and pulling
her lips apart while fucking the twin cheeks of her ass.  Tremors shook
Mom's whimpers of pleasure, which turned into soft sobs of tortured bliss.

   "Oh-oh-oh," Mom purred.  She hit my door hard with a closed fist.  "Play
with Mommy's pussy, baby.  Play with it."

   She reached back with both hands and squeezed her ass cheeks together
while dancing her beautiful butt up and down on my dick.  I pumped her buns
faster, losing control, and I pressed her pussy lips together harder.  Mom
came for the second time in a few minutes, crying out in the dark and
sobbing at the end.

   My orgasm hit me a moment later.  I spilled my seed onto my mother's
lower back as my hips jerked against her.  As I pulled away, my knob slid
through the crack of her ass, painting a stream of cum across the center of
her narrow valley.

   "Come to bed," I said, pulling Mom by her hand.  Mom followed, and we
lay together, with me behind her, and my cock snuggled against her bottom
as I held her within my arms.

   "We can skip our workout today," Mom whispered.

   I agreed, and we slept, exhausted.

   Intimate Posing

   Dad stayed home that morning, too hungover to work, he said.  He only
left his room once, and that was to empty our fridge of beers.  He looked
at me with an unreadable expression, but he didn't say a thing.

   "How much does Dad know?" I asked Mom later before heading off to my
morning class.

   "He knows enough to be worried," Mom said.  "He knows that there are
pieces of me he'll never get back because they belong to you." Mom smiled
at me.  "Let me handle your father, sweetie."

   Mom was wearing an elegant brown dress that wrapped around her shoulders
and stopped at mid-thigh.  She was on her way to her downtown gallery.  I
walked up to her, where she was leaning against a counter drinking her
coffee.  I slid my hands up the sides of her legs, under the hem of her
skirt, touching her French-cut panties that wrapped around her privates
like lacy booty-shorts that left her ass cheeks bare.

   "Is that how you're going to touch me from now on?" Mom asked.  She set
her coffee down.

   "You don't want me to?"

   "I want to hear you say, 'Yes, that's how I'm going to touch you, Mom.'"

   "Yes," I said.  "That's how I'm going to touch you, Mom." I lowered my
lips.  We kissed hard enough that she'd have to redo her lipstick later. 
"How much does Dad know, the truth?"

   "This has been building for a year," Mom said.  "I've been preparing
your father for almost half of the year.  He knows I love your company."
She kissed me.  "He knows I love your touch." She squeezed my arms.  "He
knows I'd do anything for my son." She kissed me again, holding my cheeks.
"You don't have to be afraid of him."

   "I'm not afraid," I said.  "I want the best for you and him." I squeezed
her hips.  "For all of us."

   "Oh, my loving son," Mom said.  I slid my right hand across the front of
her thigh and cupped her pussy with my fingers.  I pushed my middle finger
between her cunny lips.  "I'm going to have to change panties if you keep
doing that."

   "Are you and Dad going to be okay?" I asked, sawing my finger through
her soft folds.  Her panties dampened quickly, wetting my middle finger.

   Mom closed her eyes and breathed quietly through her mouth.  "That's up
to him." Her breath trembled.  "We love each other, but how -"mm -"much is
in his hands."

   I fingered my mother through her panties, listening to her breathing to
tell me how to touch her.  I caressed her softly, boyishly, exploring her
outside flesh and adapting my touch to her needs.  I lowered my head and
nudged her dress down over her right tit.  She wore a thin, transparent
bra, and I captured her thick nipple between my teeth and pulled.

   "Fuck," Mom gasped.  I sucked her nub and rosy areola into my mouth.

   Mom gripped my shoulders and rocked her panty-clad muff against my
fingers.  I traced the frilly leg holes of her panties with my ring and
fore-finger, splitting them to either side of her juicy clam and then I
slipped under the material to touch her bare cunny lips.

   "Oh, Chris," Mom whimpered and came, staining her panties with her cum
before my fingertips could penetrate her wet hole.

   I let her tit slip from my mouth.  "I better go," I said into her ear,
"before I lose control and fuck you right here, right now."

   I licked my finger in front of her and left the kitchen on my way to
school.

   Dad was home when I returned to the house after my classes.  Mom had
another hour at the gallery at least, and then we would be off to the
studio to model intimately in front of strangers.  The thought of holding
my mother while other's watched us without knowing our relationship made my
heart skip.

   "You've grown up on me," Dad said while we watched TV.

   "Still me," I said.

   "Not to your mother." I think he wanted to say more, but nothing came
out.

   Mom changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt as soon as she came home,
and then we were off to model.  Jen's studio had a different setup than
before.  The lights were off.  Each easel had a lamp attached at the top of
the side legs, shining light onto its canvas.  Candles surrounded the dais
that Mom and I were to model on, while a spotlight washed the dais in a
honeyed glow.

   "Art after hours," Jen told us after we had changed into our robes. 
"Choose any pose you wish.  Do anything you want.  Tonight is about your
emotions.  You can change positions as often as you like, the artists have
dozens of sheets for their sketches and drawings.  There are no rules, not
tonight."

   "No rules?" Mom asked when we were alone.

   "Jen is very open-minded," I said.

   Mom smiled.  "Oh, is she?"

   I shook my head and led Mom into the studio by the hand.  Speakers from
somewhere in the background played classical music.  We disrobed, naked,
and unafraid in front of the artists watching us.  We started with a
comfortable, basic pose: my hands on Mom's hips and her hands on my
shoulders.  I don't know what people expected, but I don't think this was
it.

   Anxious energy buzzed throughout the room.  The darkness around us, the
candlelight encircling us and the soft light from above spoke to me -"to
Mom? -"and I wanted to be closer to her.  I wanted to touch her, skin to
skin, body to body.  Her flesh glistened with lotion, as did mine, and I
watched goosebumps rise along her arms the longer I looked at her.  Her
nipples elongated in time-lapsed slow motion so that I could see their
growth as the flesh constricted.  My cock swelled thickening like a hose
jerking to life as it filled with water.

   "You're beautiful," I whispered to my mother and made the first move.  I
lowered myself to my knees, kissing her breasts on my way down.  I heard a
turning of canvas papers as I pressed my lips to Mom's stomach.  Her
stomach rolled, her navel sloping inward as I touched her skin.  I wrapped
my arms around her thighs and held her against me.

   Minutes ticked by and I sat down cross-legged on the floor.  My hands
held Mom's, and I pulled her to the floor with me.  She sat in my lap,
wrapping her legs around my back.  She interlocked her fingers behind my
neck while I ran my hands down her body, grabbing onto her butt to support
her weight, though she was as light as a feather on my thighs.

   "This is so naughty," Mom whispered into my ear when I lifted her enough
to suckle at her breasts.  I licked one and then other, wetting them with
my saliva as I pulled them into my mouth.  "You're so naughty, baby."

   My cock jumped, curving upward as it hardened beneath my mother's pussy.
My shaft straightened, my knob thickened, and it turned into a solid bar of
flesh that pressed against my mother's wet labia.

   "I want you," I whispered for my mother's ears only.

   "You're making me wet," Mom said.  "Your dick is hot against my twat."
She licked my ear.

   I groaned.  No one in the room minded or seemed to as they continued
drawing.  I squeezed my mother's ass, nudging her backdoor as I dipped my
fingers into her crack.  Mom's hips jerked, sliding her cunny across the
length of my prick, but she didn't try to pull away from my fingers.  She
settled back against them, tensing.

   "Careful back there," Mom said.  "It's been a long time."

   "I want somewhere else." I tapped my ring fingers against her perineum.
"Somewhere hotter." I rubbed the bottom of her slit.

   "I know you do." Mom tensed her legs, using her muscles to slide her
cunny across my cock.  "Baby, there's nowhere for me to run, not tonight."
She dug her heels against the small of my back.  "And I'm not about to tell
a bunch of strangers that my son is trying to fuck me."

   I buried my face in my mother's neck, kissing her.  Sweat dampened her
body, making her cheeks feel smoother in my hands, and I squeezed her round
ass, sending a tingle through my knob.  The smell of her sex-hungry pussy
curled about our bodies, filling my nostrils with the sweet, pungent aroma
of a woman in need of a slow, deep fucking.

   Lifting my mother by her ass, I flexed my cock, springing it upward. 
Canvases turned.  Mom inhaled deeply, holding the air in her lungs as I
nudged the round head of my prick against the soft folds of her maternal
opening.  Her outer labia pushed inward and then spread open, giving me
access to the smaller lips they protected.  They kissed the head of my
spongy tip, dripping heat and wetness across my crown.  My back arched and
I moaned.

   "You sure, baby?" Mom whispered, kissing me on the lips.  "There's no
going back if we do this." She kissed me.  "I won't share you with anyone."

   I found her hole and eased her downward.  Mom's eyes opened wide as if
surprised by the stretching I was putting her through.  "Oh," Mom moaned,
and she added a grunt-like "uh," as my glands slipped into her juicy body.

   "Mom," I said, breathing into her ear.  "You feel perfect."

   "You're big," Mom said.  The gentle tug of her teeth below my ear made
me shiver.  "It's been half a year, baby, go easy on me."

   I moaned and pulled my mother's hole another inch down my cock.  Her
low-throated moan filled the room, and our silent watchers continued
painting, drawing, and doing whatever the fuck it was that they were doing.
Their eyes sent a chill through my body.  My knob tingled, the light
buzzing making me flex my thighs and I parted my mother's pink walls with
another inch of my dick.

   "Fuck, baby," Mom said.  "Your dick is going to be a tight fit." She
rocked her pussy over my cock, sliding another inch of my hard pole into
her inner channel.  "I've missed this feeling so much."

   Mom took my hardness deeper into her small channel -"there was no need
to rush.  Soft breaths escaped her lungs, rolling over my skin as her
velvet pussy drenched me in her warm oils.  By the time we lodged my cock
fully within her slippery cunt, we were panting, and sweat beaded our
bodies.  Mom rowed herself against my prick, using her legs to pull her
pussy forward and her ass to push herself backward.  I let her fuck herself
on my hot, hard prick as her cunny walls adjusted to my size.

   Time lost meaning for me.  I held Mom tight, helping only a little as
she slid back and forth along my hard length.  We kissed, our tongues
melting against each other in a rhythm matching our connected bodies.  Her
pussy juices dripped, making my cock slippery-slick in a way it had never
been before.

   "Ah, ah, ah," Mom breathed into my ear, hissing after each moan. 
"You're fucking your mother, baby -"in front of strangers!" Her were words
were spoken with a harsh hiss that was drowned out from everyone else by
the playing music.  "People are watching.  You better fuck me good."

   I held the back of my mother's head and devoured her tongue.  Mom
whimpered when I surged to my knees, burying my cock to the balls within
her body.  I laid her down on her back and braced my body on my forearms. I
ran my fingers through her blonde hair as I settled my dick between her
thighs.  She brought her knees up, opening her small pink pussy for my
pleasure as she locked her ankles across my lower back.  I pulled out until
just my glans lay at the wet entrance to her cunny and then I sank all the
way into her with one -"firm -"thrust.

   "Ugh," Mom grunted, breaking my kiss, and arching her entire body.  I
pulled out and pushed back in, giving her every inch of my dick.  "Ugh
-"ugh -"ugh -"fuck!" I picked up my pace, fucking my mother's pussy faster,
firmer, smacking my hips against her upraised thighs while my balls spanked
her round ass.

   "Yeah, baby, oh yeah, umm, fuck me," Mom whimpered, no longer able to
kiss me as I rocked her body underneath mine.  Wet, sloshy noises mixed
with the music.  Mom's cries made my balls tingles.  Her tits shook beneath
me, forcing her nipples against my chest and sending shivers of pleasures
down to my asshole.  She reached down my sides, clutching onto my cheeks as
best she could, her fingers digging into my flesh.

   "Do you like it?" I whispered into my mother's ears.  "Do you like your
son's dick?"

   "Baby, fuck, I'm coming." Mom sobbed, my words a sinful trigger to our
wanton lust and she came.  Cum gushed from between her soaking lips,
spilling over my balls and running down the crack of her ass to dais below.

   I pumped my mother's coming cunt faster.  My body had become a lightning
bolt of pleasure, struggling to fracture the heavens.  My ball swelled to
overflowing for one torturous moment, and then blissful release sent a
torrent of cum through my shaft and into my mother's pussy, coating her
inner walls with family cum that soaked her insides with cream.

   I spilled the last of my seed into her body as I lay above her.  She
whispered forcefully into my ear, "That's it; make Mommy a mommy again."

   "Fuck," I grunted, and a mini-orgasm, unlike nothing I had ever felt
raced through my shaft one last time.

   "That was wonderful," Jen said, clapping.  The rest of the class clapped
with her.  "Break time, and do we dare hope there is enough left in you for
another hour?"

   We wiped down in the dressing room.  Mom kissed me as soon as the door
closed, her tongue everywhere, but in a practiced attack, touching my
tongue, my lips, and even the roof of my mouth in ways no eighteen-year-old
ever had.

   "Baby, sweetie, honey," Mom said.  "I want to suck your dick."

   "Okay." I opened my robe.

   Mom laughed, tossing her head and rolling her eyes, genuinely amused. 
"Out there," Mom said, jerking a thumb toward the door.  "But also when we
get home." She kissed me.  "There's something about nineteen-year-old cock
that makes me so fucking creamy."

   "Yeah, of course," I said.  "Out there."

   "'Yeah, of course.'" Mom laughed.

   She snaked her hand into my robe and grabbed my cock, stroking.  "What
happened to the son who threatened to fuck me this morning?" Mom jerked my
dick, bringing me back to life.  "Do you know how wet that made me?  Aw,
sweetie, do you get shy if you're not in control?" Her fingers caressed my
knob.  "I'll break you of that.  I'm a dirty talking Mommy" -"she licked
her tongue vertically across my lips -""and I want a dirty talking son."

   Back on the dais, I stood while Mom dropped to her knees in front of me.
She stared upward and ran her hands up and down my thighs, over my stomach,
nearer and nearer to my balls.  I was already hard by the time I disrobed,
and Mom tortured me for minutes before giving my cock any attention.

   Mom's smiled at me, teasing me, her eyes tempting me, daring me.  I
tensed, aware of all the eyes on me and the open ears connected to them.

   "I want," I said, pausing, before going on, "I want to feel your mouth
on my cock."

   Mom's mouth surged upward.  Her tongue darted out and slid across the
length of my shaft.  I groaned, tossing my head back.  Someone said, "Hold
that," which brought a few chuckles, but it wasn't hard to keep my head
back, mouth open, and my face masked with ecstasy.

   Mom swirled her tongue around my glans, the noise sloppy and wet as she
began worshipping my prick.  She wrapped both of her hands around my shaft,
the neck and knob exposed to her greedy mouth.  Her lips closed over my
crown, sucking as her tongue licked through my piss-slit.  My legs
trembled. I put my hands on her head, and then in her hair, but I didn't
try to guide her.  My mother was a mature woman; I didn't doubt that she
knew how to suck a dick in ways I could never imagine.

   "Your fucking mouth is so hot, Mo -"more," I stuttered.

   Mom laughed, her cheeks billowing around my knob for the briefest of
moments before she went to work.  Her spit drenched my shaft.  She jacked
me off, one hand, then two, then one, twisting her grip around my
spit-soaked prick as her nasty, naughty slurping sounds filled the room.

   "Umm, umm, umm," Mom moaned around my shaft, only to pull off and say,
"this is a throat-gagging fuck-stick, baby." And then she went all the way
down, gagging midway, choking, drooling spit as she shook her head side to
side until she swallowed me to the balls.  Mom pulled her mouth from my
prick and gasped for air, her mascara running, creating a sexy,
cock-sucking mask of determination and sacrifice.

   "More," I whispered to her, "I need more of your mouth, you sexy . . .
slutty . . .  whore."

   Mom squeaked something and attacked my cock again.  I couldn't call
her Mom, but those words did the trick.  She fondled my balls as she
gobbled my meat, licking and sucking, slurping and spitting -"jerking my
cock until my hips humped back and forth.  She sucked on her left fingers
and reached between my open legs, sliding her middle finger between my butt
cheeks.  I jumped.

   "No, baby," Mom whispered, "you stand still for me."

   I did, scared, nervous, wondering where that finger was going.  When she
touched it to my anal-ring while she ran her tongue around my glans, I lost
it.  She caressed my nut sack, using only her mouth to suck me off and her
finger danced behind me, pushing, teasing, but never entering.  She brought
me to the point of wondering what it would feel like to have her little
finger slide into me -"only a fraction of a fraction of an inch -"and then
I came.

   "Coming, oh mother -"fucker!" I cried.  Jizz exploded from me.  Mom sunk
her fingertip into my asshole, and my knees collapsed as my vision went
black, and my body quaked with pleasure.  Mom jumped back, quick as a cat,
and swallowed my cum as she preened on all fours, her heart-shaped ass the
air, giving the artists a cock-hardening show of her open, pink muffin.

   I fell backward, lying down as I regained my composure.  Mom never
stopped licking me, cleaning my cock as a loving mother should.  She
eventually kissed a path up my body to my mouth and shared the aftertaste
of my pleasure with me.  Only my mother could do that and not freak me out.

   "I love you," I said after our kiss ended.

   "I know you do, baby," Mom pecked me on the lips.  "Your eyes could
never hide how you felt about me." She kissed me again.  "I love you too."

   Home Life

   Life changed quickly after our first modeling after dark gig.  Dad no
longer discouraged Mom form doing anything.  He was quiet at first, but his
attitude changed as time went on.  It wasn't overnight, but it was
happening.  I don't know what went on between him and Mom behind closed
doors, but it didn't interfere with my new relationship with my mother.

   It started the night we came home after making love in front of people.
Dad had gone to bed.  Mom and I went upstairs to shower, separately, but
when I settled down for sleep that night, Mom joined me again, this time
turning my bedroom lights on.

   "And Dad?" I asked.

   "That's between him and me," Mom said.  She was wearing a white slip
that just hid her pussy, with a V neck that didn't hide the inside swells
of her large breasts.  "He doesn't get to be mad at you." Mom rolled her
eyes.  "I honestly don't think he is."

   "What is he then?"

   "Surprised," Mom said.  "I warned him this could happen." Mom laughed at
my expression.  "Do you want to talk about your father, or do you want an
after-dinner snack?" Mom teased the hem of her nightie, baring the meat of
her blonde pussy topped by her light, wispy curls.  "I brought you some
pie."

   "I want the pie," I said, throwing back my covers.  "What flavor did you
bring me?"

   Mom laughed.  "Pussy." She walked to my bed, climbing onto the mattress
with her knees.  "Aged thirty-nine years.  It's vintage, so eat it slowly."

   I tried to grab my mother's hips and lay her on her back, but she pushed
me down onto my pillows.  "No, I'll feed you the first few bites," she
said, shaking her head and swinging her hips.

   I settled down.  Mom straddled my hips before shuffling up my body,
bringing her pussy closer to my mouth by the second.  She raised her
nightgown above her waist, giving me an eyeful of her thick, lust-swollen
lips.  They curved backward in a perfect half-moon, with a small valley
leading to her inner pink, where the juiciest of her flavors awaited my
tongue's touch.

   Mom placed her knees on either side of my head.  She looked down at me,
smiling, circling her pussy side to side above me.  Blood rushed through
the veins, hardening my cock and allowing me to feel every swell of flesh
that thickened my shaft.  I sighed as I looked upon my mother's soft twat
with love.

   "Lick, baby," Mom said.  "Lick the sides of my pussy first, and then you
can have a taste of my cream."

   I groaned.  Mom's smile widened.  I tilted my head up, licking her right
thigh and then her left.  My hands found her ass, squeezing her cheeks, and
creating a small chair with my palms.  Mom put some of her weight on my
hands, but not all.  She could still tease my tongue with quick movements
that stole her tasty twat from my mouth.

   My tongue slid across the muscles that ran through the V between her
legs.  I pushed against the curves of her outer labia; the thicker folds
gave way to the pressure of my need.  I wanted to taste the center of my
mother's cunny, but she swung her snatch away, making sure I only teased
the flesh bordering her wet slit.

   I licked her lips one at a time and then swished my tongue across them.
Mom uttered a series of sharp breaths as the tip of my tongue brushed her
inner labia, the smaller, wetter folds bending under the force of my
movements.

   "That's Mommy's pussy you're licking," Mom purred to me.  "You naughty
boy.  How many times have you jerked off in your room thinking about this
moment?"

   Fuck?  A hundred?  Two -"million?  "Too many," I said, pushing her pussy
closer to my face.

   "Is that why you watch Alexis Fawx?" Mom asked.  "Because you were
thinking about me?  Your mother?" Mom sounded shocked, offended, and turned
on by the sinful obsession that her son had for her.

   "Yes," I said, breathing a cloud of hot hair against her equally hot
cunny.  "You're the first woman I've ever wanted, and you'll be the last."

   "Here you go, baby," Mom sighed and fed me the slot between her legs.

   Her pussy melted on my tongue.  Cream ran down the center of my hard and
soft palates, coating my uvula in a wash of sensual flavors that caused
saliva to bubble from my glands.  I savored my mother's cunny-taste as I
drank her forbidden nectar.

   "Yeah, baby, yeah," Mom moaned.  "Eat Mommy's pussy.  Be a bad son for
Mommy." She humped her hips forward with a rocking motion that spread the
center crease between her folds across my tongue.  Mom fucked my mouth from
her perineum to her clit, stopping to mash her pink pearl against the tip
of my tongue in a slow circle.

   I slipped my fingers through the crack of Mom's ass and tickled her
backdoor as she rode my face.  My left fingers slid between her legs,
feathering her dewy lips to the sides and prodding the sticky, inner walls
of her cunny meat.

   Mom whimpered and shook her ass faster over my mouth.  She leaned
forward, clutching the top of my headboard as she ground her snatch across
my tongue.  She gritted teeth, breathing harshly through them as her
cunny-juices dripped down my throat, soaked my chin, and infused their
scent into my very soul.

   "Coming, baby," Mom whimpered, now grinding her pussy on my mouth in a
clockwise motion.  "Mommy's coming on you.  Fuck!  I'm coming in my son's
mouth."

   I swallowed every drop of motherly honey that poured from Mom's creamy
snatch.  I've never experienced anything like it before.  Her scent
intensified, flooding my nostrils and lungs, sending me into a dream-like
state that lightened my entire soul.  A burst of pre-cum exploded from my
cock.  By the time Mom's body stopped shaking, she had coated the inside of
my mouth in a sweet-flavored cream whose taste I would remember forever.

   "Fuck, Chris, oh you pussy-eating bastard," Mom sighed, sounding
relieved that her orgasm was over.

   I spun, lifting her and dumping her on my bed with my head between her
legs.  Her breath left her lungs.  I pushed my fingers into her pussy and
pulled -"spreading her pink walls open.  Mom gasped and opened her legs
wide as I stretched her.  Her thighs tensed as she planted her heels on the
bed and arched her pussy upward for me.  I looked down into her little
hole, admiring the pink swells of flesh and the deeper darkness within and
then I extended my tongue as far as I could, pushing it into her open
pussy-hole.

   "Oh, baby," Mom moaned.  "Fuck me with your tongue."

   I did the best I could, but it wasn't enough.  My hard prick wanted to
go home.  I moved up Mom's body and pushed my knob against her opening.  My
dry, spongy head met her oval opening, and I pushed in.  We both moaned as
her pussy fought to lubricate my cock.  I eased my dick into her inch by
fucking inch.  Our groans mingled together: mine strained by the torture of
holding back and Mom's strained by the slow, rough stretch I was putting
her pussy walls through.

   We sighed in unison when I was all the way inside of her.  My balls
touched her asshole, and her frothy cream ran down the crack of her ass.

   "Fuck me, Chris," Mom moaned.  "Fuck your mother with that big dick I
gave you."

   I didn't want to disobey, so I did as my mother ordered.  I slid my cock
out and fucked back in, making Mom grunt as my tip bottomed out against her
velvety insides.  I felt every inch of her inner walls caress my dick as I
pushed through her tasty tunnel.  Mom took my prick like a champ, urging me
to fuck her with every ounce of energy my nineteen-year-old body could
conjure.

   "Oh, baby, oh, fuck -"mm -"you're pounding Mommy's pussy good, baby,"
Mom moaned.  She wrapped her legs around my back, her arms around my neck,
and hung onto me as my cock sloshed through her incest-loving snatch.

   "Fuck, Mom," I whispered in her ear.  "Your pussy so fucking hot.  So
fucking wet." I licked her ear, and I listened as my balls spanked her
asshole.  "You're as tight as a fucking teenager."

   "Oh, god," Mom cried and came and bit my shoulder as she did.

   Her walls clung to my shaft.  Her pussy muscles rippled along my length
as her cum washed over my prick's sensitive crown.  I came, loosening thick
ropes of jizz into her unprotected womb.  We shook together, trembling,
gasping, our muscles flexing as our bodies convulsed under the strain of
our orgasms.  We lay together, panting and sweating as we regained our
breaths.

   "Chris," Mom whispered, "you haven't finished yet, have you?  Fucking my
son makes me so horny."

   Mom wasn't kidding when she said fucking me made her horny.  We fucked a
lot.  We made love a lot.  We kissed, we touched, we went down on each
other whenever we could.  Mom was a bundle of sexual energy, and I was
delighted to help her release it.

   My relationship with my father changed -"some.  Not much, but it was
quieter at first.  I could never tell what he was thinking.  His beers
disappeared for a while, replaced by a single bottle here and there, and
then those disappeared.  He spent less time at the shops and fewer nights
out with his employees, but the nights he did go out, he went all out but
in a jovial way.

   "What do you think about putting in a home gym?" Dad asked me one
morning.

   "You want me to do it?" I asked.

   "No," Dad said, laughing.  "Are you sure you're going to college?  I'd
hire people." He looked toward the backyard.  "There's too much space out
there.  We can fit in a fifteen by forty-five room along the property line,
don't you think?  Fill it with weight and machines." He rubbed his belly.
"I could spend more time with your mother and . . .  you?"

   I nodded my head until I realized he wanted me to say something.

   "I think it's a good idea."

   "Me too," Dad said.  He rubbed his face.  "Long overdue."

   Mom spent the first day of construction in her bedroom with Dad.  I
didn't feel alone when I went to bed that night.  I wasn't jealous, and I
wasn't angry -"I loved my family.  I wanted to be a part of one, even if it
was different than what society considered normal.  Mom woke me with a
blowjob the next morning.

   "I had to pick your fucking lock," Mom said, giving my balls a gentle
squeeze.  "Don't ever make me have to do that again." She spanked the side
of my ass and put her mouth back to work.

   Our modeling never stopped.  There were times Dad would meet us
afterward for a late-night dinner, but he never went inside.  Mom had no
problem kissing both of us in private or in public when we were together or
separate.  She teased us.  She hugged us.  She introduced us to people as
"These are my men." But there was one big difference in how she behaved
with us: while she was never overtly sexual in front of me with Dad, Mom
never spared him the-more-than-motherly affection she showered on me.

   The first time our quiet touching near Dad went beyond all things
reasonable was in the living room.  We sat in the recliner, and Dad lay on
the couch behind us.

   "Doug, you can stay on the couch," Mom said, walking into the living
room.  She was wearing a soccer jersey, black with white lettering, short
enough to just cup the bottom curve of her butt.  Thigh-high knit-stockings
encased her legs, and she had pulled her blonde into a ponytail.  "I'll
share the recliner with Chris."

   I was on the loveseat.  Dad looked at me, but he said nothing.  His eyes
swung to the love seat as if to say, "Listen to your mother."

   I stood, moving to the recliner and sat, wearing only a shirt and my
basketball shorts with nothing underneath, just as Mom expected of me.  Mom
lowered herself onto my lap, her buns making the head of my cock tingle. 
Her jersey rode up her legs, baring her butt, and a barely-there string ran
between her smooth cheeks.  She tilted to the right, resting her head on my
shoulder.

   The recliner sat to the side and in front of the couch.  I knew Dad's
view was at an angle to us.  The chair's forward jutting wings would hide
my body, and probably most of Mom's.  My heart sped up, knowing that Dad
would be looking toward us tonight instead of wondering what was happening
behind him.

   "Choose a movie, Doug," Mom said.  "Something sexy."

   My heart stopped.  My shaft firmed.  Mom wiggled her butt against my
lap, aligning her center groove against my knob before settling down.  My
breath shook for several seconds before I was able to get myself under
control.  Mom rested against me, and I put my hands on her warm thighs,
absorbing the feel of her soft flesh and firm muscles.

   Dad flipped through the channels, stopping on Unfaithful with Diane
Lane, a woman who only grew sexier with age, like some mythical MILF out of
Legend.  Mom watched in silence, as did Dad, an unspoken agreement passing
between them that allowed me to molest my mother's willing body openly.

   That's what I told myself, but it didn't stop the nervous energy that
pulsed through my veins.  I wanted to touch my mother, everywhere, right
then and all at once, but there were times Mom liked to be fucked fast and
raw, in a whirlwind of sex that left her hair disheveled and her legs open
with cum leaking from her snatch.  And then there were times she wanted to
be teased and toyed with, caressed and loved and this was one of those
times.

   I ignored the movie.  I massaged my mother's thighs, rubbing her skin
from the bend in her hips to the tops of her stockings.  I pushed my
fingertips underneath their welts, moving my fingers in a half-moon under
the knitted thread before sliding my hands back to her hips.  I drove Mom's
thighs open on my next trip downward.  I caressed the softer, inner flesh
of her legs on my return trip, inching my way to the warmth hiding between
her thighs.  I stopped near her pussy, not touching it, but so fucking
close to her lips that the heat from her muff dampened my fingers.

   Mom's breathing trembled.  I teased the edges of her little panties. 
They were small, too small for her, leaving her outer labia exposed.  I
licked her left ear, and she stretched her neck to the right as she
shivered.  My hands moved upward, over her hips and across her belly. 
Mom's breathing deepened.  I cupped the bottom curve of my mother's breasts
between my thumbs and forefingers.  Mom dug her hands into my thighs and
waited.

   On-screen, Diane Lane sat on a train, remembering the events of the
first time that she had cheated on her husband.  Her character smiled, and
cried, excited and sad, but elated at the sense of new freedom in her life.
I moved my hands over Mom's breasts, wondering what thoughts had gone
through her head before she decided that she was tired of being ignored. 
Did she cry before or after our first time together?  I pinched Mom's thick
nipples, forcing a gasp from her lips.  I decided never to ask her that
question.

   In the movie, Diane Lane kissed her costar, hungrily, almost violently,
the scene short but effective.  I pulled on the hardened nubs of my
mother's tits.  She sighed, hissing at the end when I stretched her nipples
too far, and they snapped away from my grip.  I kissed her neck, licking my
tongue along the line of her sloping shoulder.

   "Mm," Mom moaned, low, from deep within her lungs, trying to keep the
sound trapped within her body.  The scene ended with Diane Lane washing her
panties in the sink in the train's restroom, implying she did the same for
her pussy before cutting away.  I lowered my hands to my mother's waist and
relaxed.

   Shortly after, there was another love scene in a cafÃ(C).  The
characters fucked in a bathroom stall.  I slid my fingers down Mom's open
thighs, bracketing her panties with my extended digits.  Mom opened her
legs wider, and as Diane Lane took her fucking in the stall, I squeezed the
thick lips of my mother's cunny together.

   "Baby," Mom whispered.  She turned her head and kissed my chin.  Her
teeth nibbled my jawline.  I slid my fingers beneath the leg holes of her
panties and pushed on her outer lips, puffing up her pussy as I moved
toward her inner slit.  "You touch Mommy so good."

   I heard Dad shift on the couch.  There were only the faintest of
reflections in the TV, so transparent that his imagination would have to
fill in the details of his son touching his wife.

   "Do you like Mommy's pussy, baby?" Mom asked, turning her body enough to
lick the curve of my earlobe.

   "Yes," I said, sliding my forefingers into the wet hole hidden between
her inner lips.  I hooked my fingers against the underside of my mother's
mound and rubbed.

   "Umm," Mom moaned.  She rocked her butt over my shorts, grinding the
crack of her ass against my knob.  I reached back with my left hand, hooked
my fingers under the G-string riding her ass and pulled it to the side over
her left ass cheeks.  I cupped her pussy from behind, her dewy trench
soaking my palm with her honey-slick juices as her cheeks sat on my
forearm.

   The movie continued.  I fingered my mother, parting her nether lips with
the fingers of my right hand and sliding the fingers of my left into her
cum-hole.  She moaned, riding me, her voice quiet, but not quiet enough. 
The scent of sex drifted about the living room, thick and heavy and
unmistakable.

   By the time Diane Lane ran to her lover's house to break off her affair,
my fingers were making soft, wet slushy sounds through my mother's slit. 
Mom's excitement rose when Diane Lane fought with her lover, pushing
against him as he pulled her to him, refusing to give her up.  Mom shoved
her hand between us, slithering her fingers into my shorts and grabbing my
cock.  Her other hand pulled at my shorts.  I lifted my hips, helping her
frantic motions to free to my dick.

   "Fuck me," Mom whispered when Diane Lane bent over a stairway's railing.
I removed my hands from between Mom's legs, taking my cock in my hand as
she balanced her palms on the arms of the recliner.  Diane Lane pushed her
panties down her ass, and Mom planted the heels of her feet onto the ends
of the armrests.

   Fuck, I thought.

   "Are you going to fuck me, huh?" Diane Lane asked, her voice angry and
impatient.

   "Hurry, baby, fuck me," Mom said, her voice loud enough to reach Dad's
ears.  Mom lifted her ass.  My knob dug a trench through her pussy lips
before finding her slippery hole.

   "I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me," Diane whispered on
screen.

   "I want you to fuck me, baby," Mom whispered, more urgent than before.
"Fuck your big dick into Mom -"uh!"

   My cock disappeared into my mother's pussy.  Her juices coated my crown
and dripped down my shaft, wetting me as I fed her pussy my meat.  Diane
Lane moaned.  Mom moaned louder.  Her legs tensed on the chair's arms as
her cunny slid downward and her walls opened around my thickness.

   "Oh god," Mom grunted when her ass met my lap, and there was no more
dick for her twat to take.

   I breathed out a long sigh of relief.  I hadn't realized I had been
holding my breath.  Dad said nothing.  Mom rocked against me, using her
legs to pump her pussy up and down my iron-hard fuck-rod.  Dad could see
most of Mom's body from his angle.  He could hear my mother's -"his wife's
-"low-throated groans as she took every inch of my prick over and over
again.

   "That's it, baby, fuck Mommy," Mom whispered.  "Fuck my pussy.  Make
Mommy a mommy again with your cum."

   I groaned.  My father groaned.  I didn't know what he was doing back
there, but whatever it was, it wasn't anger that he was directing at us.

   "Oh, oh, oh -"fuck -"your dick is big, baby," Mom whimpered.  I grabbed
her hips when she lifted her pussy so that only my knob was inside of her,
and I pulled her down.  Hard.  "Fuck," she grunted, her breath shallow and
helpless.  "Do that again.  Go ahead, tear your Mommy's pussy apart."

   I lost it.  I fucked my hips upward while pulling her hips downward. 
Our bodies, slapping wetly together, drowned out the noise from the TV. 
Mom was panting.  I was grunting as her butt smacked against my hips hard
enough to leave bruises.  She whimpered and sobbed as I filled her hot
pussy full of dick meat.  We were close.  I could feel it in the way her
inner chamber rippled around my shaft.  I reached around her right butt
cheek, under her leg and found her pussy-slit, feeling my cock as it spread
her cunny lips wide.

   "Yeah, baby, do it," Mom gasped.  "Make me come on our family dick."

   I slid my fingers to the apex of her snatch and pushed against the shiny
pearl sticking out from under its hood.  Mom cried out.  I swished her
swollen clit hard and fast, pushing it against her pubic bone as she
bounced her little, wet cunt hard on my cock.

   "Coming," Mom shouted.  "Doug, our son's making me come."

   "Fuck," I grunted and came a moment later.

   Our bodies slammed together.  Her slippery snatch swallowed me to the
balls and then some, fighting to take me as deep into her narrow hole as
possible.  Her legs shot out.  I dug my fingers into her hips, and she
clawed at my thighs.  We came together, trembling and shaking and gasping
as our cum mixed within her womb.  Her pussy pulled every strand of white
from my balls, making me shiver as the last of my seed spilled from the tip
of my prick.

   "Make me a mommy again," Mom whispered to me as we relaxed.

   Her words chambered one last round of jizz into my shaft that I shot
straight into her womb.

   Life Continues

   Things only got better for us.  Dad started working out, not that that
was what Mom wanted, but it was the first step in spending more time
together.  His energy increased, his desire to be with Mom grew, and his
mood changed to one of encouragement, and he never tried to stop Mom from
being with me.

   Mom was wild at home -"a controlled wild.  Sex was a possibility at any
moment, but it was the teasing and our self-restraint that made our fucking
and lovemaking an intense experience.  But all of that restraint dissolved
into nothing when we were in front of an audience.

   Our first sixty-nine together was in front of a crowd, under a spotlight
that beaded our bodies with sweat.  Mom lay on top of me; her knees spread
to either side of my head.  I made sure to open her pussy for those who
could see her backside.  She worked my cock with delicious slowness,
screwing her hand up and down my shaft while slurping on my knob.  I
finger-fucked her little pink hole, kissing and nibbling on her thighs as I
thumbed her clit in soft circles.  We changed positions many times that
night, but sixty-nine was always the outcome.

   The first time that I had fingered my mother's asshole was in Jen's
studio.  It started as a wrestling match when Mom understood what I planned
to do to her.  She fought me, playfully, pushing, and trying to get away as
I held her close to my body.  I managed to get her on her knees, her ass in
the air and her head down with a cheek on a pillow.  I drooled onto her
rosebud until it shined.  I went to work on her backdoor when her butt
crack was slippery with spit.

   "Oh -"oh god -"oh," Mom moaned as I teased her narrow entrance.  I
pushed my finger against her forbidden ring, fascinated by how her rubbery
muscles collapsed inward under my gentle pressure.  I twisted my forefinger
into her slowly, making her grunt.  Mom chewed on the pillow below her,
growling as I slid my digit through her asshole.  I could feel every rub of
her slick backdoor as it gripped my probing finger.  The spokes of her
pucker were soft, but textured, squeezing my skin with dick-hardening
traction.

   One finger became two.  I used more spit, and Mom grabbed my cock,
stroking me while I double-fucked her backdoor.  My slow pokes through her
cinching rear tunnel turned into a glide and then I was twisting my fingers
into her asshole, stretching her pristine insides so I could massage her
anal canal.

   Mom purred.  "You naughty fucking boy.  Wait until I tell your father."

   I petted Mom's pussy, telling her, "I'm going to fuck your ass tonight."
Mom came, and after, she pushed me onto my back and rode my dick like a
cowgirl grinding her pussy against a saddle.  When I came, she whispered,
"Make Mommy a mommy again, baby, I know you can."

   In the car, in our driveway, Mom said, "You know, some girls get butt
fucked in the backseat on the first date, so they stay virgins until
marriage." Mom looked into the back of my car, her smile silly.  "This
isn't our first date, and I'm in the front seat.  What's taking you so long
to go after my ass?"

   I was on her in a moment.  The summer dress she wore was around her hips
a second later.  Mom laughed at my excitement.  We grappled, twisting and
turning until I pushed her seat back as far as it would go.  She lowered
the backrest.  I kneeled on the floorboard, surprised at the amount of room
in my car.  Mom lifted her legs up and back and spread herself for me.

   "I haven't had a cock back there in years, baby," Mom whispered,
excited. "Pump my butt slowly."

   I ran my cock through my mother's pussy lips, pausing to spank her clit
several times with my spongy tip, making her jump.  I spat on her pussy and
lubed her asshole with a combination of our juices.  She held her legs
behind her knees, looking down as my cock pushed against the tiny pucker of
her backdoor.

   "Ooh, you big fucker," Mom moaned as my cock entered her.  She smiled at
me, tight and playfully promising revenge against me for putting something
so big up her butt.  Mom groaned when my head popped into her rectum, and
she groaned again as I slid my shaft up her rear until my balls touched her
cheeks.

   "You okay?" I asked.

   "You're supposed to ask that before you bottom out," Mom panted,
fanning her face with each hand.  "You'll never know how good the pain
feels, will you?"

   I shook my head.  I was in awe of her toughness when I looked down and
saw her ass full of cock and the way her rear-hole spiraled open around my
thick shaft.  Her pussy glistened under the starlight shining through my
windows.  Her lips pressed together in a juicy, meaty bulge of soft flesh.
I slipped two fingers between her pussy lips, dipping into her pink with my
palm up.  I massaged the underside of her mound with my fingers, while I
rubbed her clit with my thumb.

   "Fuck, yeah, you naughty boy," Mom said, scolding me, thanking me.  "Did
I raise -"oh -"you to treat me this way?" Mom whimpered as I flexed my cock
inside of her.  "Give it to me, baby.  Fill Mommy's holes and make me
come."

   I moaned and started fucking, shaking with every movement through her
backdoor.  Mom's anal ring gripped me hard, the constriction unreal.  Mom
began to grunt.  Her forceful breaths sped up my heartbeat.  I could feel
my cock in her ass against the back of my knuckles, the sensation making me
lengthen my strokes.  When my glans reached her asshole, Mom tightened her
muscles.  I gasped, my body shaking and I came, spilling a healthy wad of
cum right up her butthole.

   Mom laughed.  "So soon, baby?" She laughed again.  "That's okay.  We
have all night, don't we?" Mom may have regretted those words because she
spent the night biting my pillow.  She missed our morning workout, and she
spent the next night sleeping on her stomach, so I tenderly made love to
her from behind while she told everything was okay.

   I was in Mom's room a few weeks later.  She was standing in front of her
wall mirror, facing sideways with her right hand atop her stomach and her
left below.  She was pushing her belly out, and when she saw me, her eyes
widened, and then she smiled.

   "What are you doing?" I asked.  "It shouldn't take long if you want a
six-pack."

   "Remember when I asked you to make Mommy a mommy again?" she sounded so
happy.  "Well, someone in this house did.  Was it you?"

   Mom told me I fainted, but I don't remember doing it.

   Life changed a little after that.  My anxiety eventually went away.  Dad
opened up more than he already had.  We had our first threesome when Mom
broke the news to him.  She kissed him; then she kissed me.  And then with
a hand on each of our chests, she kissed us again and again and again.

   I lasted longer than my father, and I made love to Mom one more time
while he watched.  It was strange.  It was thrilling.  It was something
that we would eventually become used to, but it was a rare treat for
special occasions.

   Mom and I posed for Jen a month before Mom was due to give birth.  It
was a private performance, commissioned, in our home studio -"our family
pictures hidden until after Jen left.  Mom lay on her side on a white
mattress, and I lay behind her.  Her belly gleamed with the cocoa butter we
used to keep her skin smooth as her stomach grew larger.  Mom didn't gain
much weight during her pregnancy, but she was proud of her sloping baby
bump.  And so was I.

   After

   Mom gave birth to a healthy baby boy.  We listed Dad as the father on
the birth certificate, and that was fine by me.  We never learned who the
birth father was.  He was a handsome baby, with Mom's infectious smile and
laugh, and since my father and I looked so much alike, he could have
belonged to either of us.  There was one oddity that set him apart from a
normal child.  He was born with one green eye that resembled Mom's and one
blue eye that resembled mine.  Mom named him Adam.

   The next time we modeled for a portrait, it was as a family-family,
fully clothed with each of us cradling a portion of the little guy's body
in our hands.  It wasn't long after that that Mom and I went back to
modeling for Jen.  It was something that we could share between ourselves
even as others watched.

   One Last Thing

   One night, at Mom's gallery, while I was holding Mom in my arms, a woman
who could have been Mom's twin walked through the doors.  She was blonde,
beautiful, and someone I had watched many-a-time by myself before my love
life with my mother began, though now we watched her together more often
than not.  It had to be her.  It just had to be.

   "Baby," Mom said, snapping me out of my musings.

   "What?" I asked, shaking my head.

   "What do you want to do tonight?"

   What did I want to do tonight?  I looked at the woman walking around the
gallery who look all too familiar to me.  That was a very good question.  I
looked at my mom and then back to the woman admiring the artwork displayed
about the floor space.  It was a very good question . . .  that needed
answering.



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