High school was done. It had been a great time, but once again we had moved and I found myself in a new town. My mother worked with a large firm and we frequently relocated to other locations every couple of years. I was like most teenagers I guess off in my own world. I knew my mother was a beautiful woman standing about five foot six, slender with a well endowed ass and not much up top. They say boys favor women built like their mother, perhaps that's true. Though I find most women attractive I do favor large butts and small breasts.
My mother came home every evening after work and I thought nothing of it. She had dated some when I was younger, but nothing ever seemed to pan out. I remember asking her one time when I was in high school why she didn't date and she said that she had a few times, but never met anyone that met her needs. Again I didn't give it much thought. I had been with a few girls and they always seemed more than eager to "meet my needs" so I wasn't sure what needs she was talking about. It never crossed my mind that she was referring to her sexual needs. Not that I didn't find her insanely beautiful in a funky way. She always dressed demurely in skirts that went to about her knee and blouses always buttoned up.
Of course I had spent my youth trying to get a peek of her goodies, though glimpses were few and far between. To be exact by the time I had turned eighteen I had seen her in her underwear twice and once, a vision I will never forget, I saw her breasts. It was the first set of tits I had ever seen and they looked perfect. To be precise they were perky 34B's, with two inch areolas and hardened nipples protruding a half inch. Actually it wasn't until later that day when I checked her underwear drawer that I knew they were 34B's.
This summer I was working for a landscaper, at least that's what the firm claimed to be. In actuality the owner was pushing down eighty foot pine trees with his dozer and I would spend ten to twelve hours a day cutting them up with a chain saw and throwing the pieces into the back of a dump truck. My six foot two lanky frame seemed well suited to the work in the Florida sun and humidity. The salt stain on my belt and the all over tan from my waist up validated my commitment.
The first few weeks after work I would get home, shower, change, eat and stay out at the Blue Goat Pub, drinking beer, listening to live music, playing fussbol and making new friends or hooking up with old ones. One Sunday morning getting up late I was eating breakfast just after noon when my mother got home from church. As she walked by in one of her long demure skirts I was admiring her ass sway and the French cut panties outlining her full derriere as I had so many times before and felt that familiar arousal. A little later my mother came out in a cotton sun dress that I didn't give much thought to until she went to stand in front of the glass patio doors. That got me going! Her protruding mound was clearly visible through the shear material. I was lost in my carnal thoughts when my mother suddenly turned around and I noticed that her lips were moving.
"Son are you OK?" she asked.
Shaking my head as if to clear the cob webs I said "What?"
"I said the French Open is on this afternoon, would you like to watch it with me?"
I had planned on swimming in the bayou with some friends, but changed my mind. "That sounds great Mom!" I noticed that she was somewhat surprised as I rarely spent time at home. As so often happened my cock was ruling my brain, and while my brain was saying what are you thinking, my body was saying, but she looks so hot! I was out running some chores and picked up some beer for the match.
Getting home I was putting the beer up and asked my mom if she wanted one and surprisingly she said yes. She was more of a wine drinker, and rarely that. I grabbed the beers and plopped myself down on the sofa with her. She looked at my quizzically and said "your not going to sit in your "man" chair"?
I replied "No, I feel like stretching out if you don't mind?"
"Help yourself".
As the match went on I slid further and further to a reclining position forcing her to the far end of the sofa until my insteps were cuddling her right ass cheek. I jiggled her ass with my feet and asked if she minded.
"No make yourself comfortable", which I did.
About a half hour later I sat up, grabbed her arm and told her to slide over that I wanted to give her a back rub, something I had never done before, but she readily agreed.
The match was tied two to two and I knew that game would be over soon. As I massaged her shoulders and neck I heard her start to coo. Fifteen minutes into the cooing and I noticed that her nipples were standing proud under her bra, and that is when it started. I lifted her dress from her chest, bent over and noticeably peered underneath her dress "Are you getting aroused?"
She jumped up in a flash. "Steven Anthony! I know your reputation, but I am not one of your friends I am your mother! How dare you get frisky with me?"
I don't know what possessed me, but as she turned to walk away in a huff I swung my arm out to give her a parting swat on her lovely derriere. For better or worse, the combination of not knowing my own strength and the thin cotton dress, I landed a solid shot. The sound was deafening. And then everything seemed to slow down to a surreal world. My brain was screaming that I was screwed, while simultaneously noting that my mother whom I at first thought was standing motionless was actually quivering and I heard a distinct moan. Time seemed to be frozen at that moment for hours, though in truth it was only the better part of a minute.
I tried to speak, but couldn't. The next thing that registered that my mother was walking, no shuffling away, with what appeared to be her thighs squeezed tightly together. I sat there for the better part of an hour waiting for a tongue lashing from my mother, whom had retreated to her room and closed her door. I thought it best to make myself scarce and went off to the bayou. I swam for a while. As supper time grew near I headed home to take my medicine, hoping that I still had a house to go home to.
You could have knocked me over with a feather when I entered the house to hear mom singing to one of her favorite albums. "Hi dear, I'm glad you're home, dinner is ready." As I walked into to the kitchen she gave me a big hug and asked where I'd been".