This story takes place a little over ten years ago. I was in my mid-thirties living the single life after a hellish divorce. My ex and I had called it quits about four years prior and I had decided to start a new life. I moved back to my old home town just to be in closer proximity to my friends, family, but mostly my Mother. She had been living alone for almost two years after her most recent relationship had ended in disaster. The fact that I was starting to get concerned about her overall welfare and being all by herself was the deciding factor. It was hard to recall a time when she was ever single for very long. She always had someone there to be by her side.
Almost inevitably, one winter's day Mom had taken a bit of a nasty spill on some ice in her driveway. She was a southern gal and not used to severe cold weather yet. I'm still not sure why she decided to grocery shop wearing high heels in the dead of winter in the first place. I got the call from the hospital and raced to Mom's rescue immediately. Fortunately, the injuries weren't too severe and she would make a full recovery with a little time. One of the doctors informed me that she had two nasty fractures in her upper right arm and a broken wrist on the opposite.
The medical folks had put a large plaster cast on the troubled arm which kept it bent at the elbow but still stuck out at her side to keep it somewhat elevated. Her wrist also had a smaller version of the same type of cast but she still had a little more mobility with this arm, but could barely move her hand. She was quite a sight. Despite the ordeal, Mom was in pretty good spirits which made me wonder just what kind of pain medication they had administered, and how much. Before she was discharged, the nurse had handed me a stack of informational papers on how to care for Mom in her weakened state for the next month or two. I glanced at them briefly and I could already tell this was not going to be easy.
Upon returning Mom to her home, the first step was to get her as comfortable as possible. It seemed she wouldn't be going anywhere especially to work for a while and neither was I. After getting Mom up the stairs to her room, it was decided that I was obviously the one who would be in charge of wardrobe among other things. It wasn't intentional but I was rendered immediately bashful at the task. Mom had picked up on it right away.
"Oh come on now baby, it's perfectly normal for a son to see his Mother's naked body at some point." she said in all seriousness.
In my head I responded "Yes but not when I'm THIS old!" I had seen her in the buff several times when I was a child, but this was a whole other set of circumstances. With Mom's blessing, I reluctantly sat her down and started taking her hospital slippers and slacks off then started up towards her pantyhose. I tried not to stare as I fumbled to find the waistband of her hose when Mom spoke up.
"No, leave em' on hon. They keep my legs warm. I usually just sleep in em' anyways."
The thought of that statement was admittedly a little exciting. I had always been a great admirer of my Mother's perfectly sculpted legs. They really did compliment her petite little physique. As a kid, I used to love seeing her wear pantyhose of any color and she wore them all the time around the house. They just seemed so silky and soft. I remember always wanting to touch her heavenly, nylon-clad ankles, calves, and feet. Maybe getting to see her lounge around the house in her hosiery wasn't the worst idea ever.
I carefully unbuttoned her blouse and tried to slide it down over her casts with minimal effort. It took some doing but it did come off with a final tug.
"The bra too baby, I'm sure as hell not spending two months in this damn thing." she said sternly.
I went around to her back and started feeling for the hooks or whatever was keeping the contraption locked over her chest, but couldn't find them.
"What the hell are you doing'?" It unhooks in the front." Mom said with a giggle.
Now I am facing my Mother as I fumble to unfasten her black lacy brazier trying not to stare at what was underneath. It looked like Mom was studying my expression as the utter awkwardness began to show in my beet-red face. She smirked eerily at me the whole time. Finally with a snap, the lace separated. As predicted, both of my Mothers silky white breasts exploded from their confines. I tried not to glance but couldn't help notice their deceptively small appearance was just a ruse. Mom had a slight frame but her ample bosom was hardly in proportion with the rest of her.
Mom smirked. "Well, what do ya think?"
I decided to throw a little of her teasing back at her and said "Yeah, not bad Mom, Very nice! I can't believe I used to suck on them when I was a baby!"
She chuckled and motioned to play-kick me as I slid her bath robe over her.
"Are you sure that's what you want to wear, just pantyhose and a robe?" I asked.
"Of course not silly, I'll need my slippers too."She joked.
Several days went by and I was still at my Mother's beck and call. We decided to set up camp in the living room on the big comfy couch in the living room. For the most part, I did the cooking and cleaning and other household chores which kept me occupied. After dinner we just watched TV together as I rubbed her stocking feet until she fell asleep. We both enjoyed it and she didn't seem to even care. The pain medication kept her in a bit of a stupor and I could tell she was behaving a little loopy at times. I don't even think she realized she was laying on the couch with her robe untied and wide open on occasion. It was also my job to be the robe-wrangler and keep her covered up. There were times when I would just enjoy the show, but felt a little guilty eyeing my Mom's goods like that.
After the fourth day, the topic of bathing eventually started to surface. I had been dreading this ever since I read about it in the instructional sheets the nurse had given me before we left. Sitting idle for all this time meant a basic sponge bath simply wouldn't do. Mom could bathe like normal but the biggest concern was keeping the casts dry. In that aspect the tub was out of the question, not to mention getting her in and out of it without the use of her arms.
After hours of brainstorming, the two of us had discussed every possible scenario to accomplish this feat. The best we could come up with was clear wrap and duct-tape over the casts in the shower. The stand-up shower was huge and had two large frosted-glass sliding doors for easy entry. It seemed like a flawless plan in the beginning. After carefully sealing Mom's casts in plastic wrap making them impervious to water, we decided it was time for the trial run. The plan was perfect except for one small problem. We forgot that my mother only almost zero mobility in her arms and hands to wash herself with. She would only be getting herself wet with no possible way to cleanse herself in her condition.
Being a good son, I tried once again to overt my gaze away from my completely nude Mother's body. This made it increasingly difficult to assist her. I tried reaching only my arm in the shower, flailing aimlessly to hit her with some soap in an attempt to scrub her, but the big glass doors made things worse and water was getting everywhere. The last thing we needed was another slip and fall mishap.
Mom was getting agitated and finally shouted "Oh for fuck sake, just get in here with me baby!"
I wasn't sure what to do. I just froze there hoping she was only kidding. She was not.
"I'm not getting in there and getting all wet." I said in protest.
