All characters are 18+.
*****
I've looked hard to find a starting point - some event that precipitated what followed - but for all my mental struggles, it remains a mystery. Not that I don't like a good mystery sometimes. I even kind of like this one.
Now there's plenty of you who will say 'oh, it's obvious then' when I tell you that I made the decision to become a nudist some three years ago when my son, my Crispin - ok, Chris, as he prefers - was just coming up for his sixteenth birthday. But that really isn't the case. It wasn't until just a few weeks ago that the precipitation started, and he's well past eighteen now.
Let me explain more. I'm an average woman (I firmly believe), in that I'm short enough (a little over five-three), light enough (nine stone) and plain enough (mousy brown hair, shoulder length and rather wispy). I don't stand out in a crowd but there again, I don't send little kiddies running away screaming that they've just seen an ugly old hag. Even when I'm on a period.
I've never married which might be a little unusual for some, but it's never bothered me in any way. I was very young when I became pregnant with Crispin - Chris - and maybe that diverted me from mainstream attention. But it seriously never concerned me. I'm only thirty-four just now, so as our American cousins like to say, you do the math. I missed out on the tail end of my teens and all that might have entailed, while busy feeding and looking after a screaming toddler.
It didn't bother me back then and nor does it concern me now. I only have to look around at some of my erstwhile neighbours who are around my age to see them not long into the feeding, clothing, cleaning up sick (and worse) stage with their kids, and many of them are on their second or third husbands. My boy will be going to university this coming summer and I will have my lovely little house all to myself for the foreseeable future. No sharing, no fuss, no bother - and no clothes (for me, at least).
Crispin and I might have spent close on two decades together but nothing out of the ordinary exists between us. Or rather it didn't - but more of that in due course. I've always been just his ordinary-enough mother - a sticking plaster putter-onner, a food provider, a cleaner, a shopper and a home-maker. He's always been a 'typical' son - a knee-scraper, a gannet, a mess-maker, faddish about food and clothes, and a home-wrecker. The latter being a description of his physical regard to the house and nothing to do with relationships. The naturism thing was met with typical male reactions - lots of stares, lots of erections despite me being his mother, and lots of teasing.
I'm not stupid enough not to realise that the sight of a naked woman would get him staring, but it didn't bother me at the start and doesn't bother me now. My boy got used to the situation quickly enough, and got used to new rules about the house with the same alacrity. I knew he'd look. I knew it would excite at first and I knew he would sometimes think of me when he was doing what all teenage males seem to do with alarming frequency and a worrying amount of stress that they must place on their wrists. Naturism is all about natural reactions and I was prepared for everything - even if the early frequency of erections seemed slightly disproportionate.
But it passed as I knew - fervently hoped - it would. I was blasé about everything, treating it as a natural state, and very careful not to allow others knowledge of what happened chez me. One of the strictest rules was that my habit - or rather lack of habit - would not become a talking point between my son and his friends which (with slight surprise) he seemed to manage for the longest time. Other rules included 'no touching' (even hugs or kisses goodbye), 'no visible masturbating', 'no phones or sly photographs', 'no sudden appearances of friends', 'no joining me in an unclothed state', and 'no pins'. The latter was added to the original list after a certain young man left an opened box of said items on the sofa one evening - by accident, he assures me - and ended up breaking rule two on request when I needed him to dab ointment on some very sore pin-pricks.
Neither my initial nudity - nor the TCP application - represent the starting points of the recent chain of events, though. Of that I am sure.
For more than two years, after the initial 'exercises' for eyes and a hand, Crispin and I lived a harmonious asexual way and even the teasing became infrequent. His last 'witticism' had been the application of a poster next to his bedroom doorframe a few weeks after his eighteenth birthday. The frame was marked indelibly to indicate his rising height alongside his rising age. The poster had similar 'notches' against age, but for a woman's nipples - descending over time.
It was hard not to laugh as I got him to remove the offending item.
Perhaps it was shortly after that when things truly started to occur.
As I've said, my nudity became the norm. Gone were the days when my son would trail around after me with one hand surreptitiously trying to disguise - or play with - a bulge in his shorts or pyjamas. There were no more attempted - and 'forgetful' - goodbye hugs, and no more 'accidental' bumping into me. Thing had become so natural and normal that I never even noticed the return of the rogue erections at first.
I was cleaning the kitchen floor tiles when it first became apparent, so to speak. Being on all fours provides you with an unusual view of the world and all things in it - which is perhaps why dogs and cats don't walk upright. It also means that you shuffle around with your butt in the air. Much later, Crispin admitted to me that it was that particular view which reminded his libido that there was a naked woman just a few feet in front of him - and more recently, admitted that it was a certain pussy (his word, not mine) that sent the blood pouring into his teenage member. A member that I turned abruptly at one point to see bulging in his soccer shorts, not two feet from my slightly upturned eyes.
"Crispin!" It was all I could think to say.
I remember him swearing at that point - an unusual event in itself at home - and he backed off fast, both hands trying to disguise the tent. "I'm sorry!"
I stood up as quickly as I could and stared down at his hands. "Sorry! I should frigging think so!" My mind was confused - suddenly and terribly. This was not something I had considered for many a long month, but there was something else as well.
"Mum, I wasn't looking for it... meaning it..."
"Shut up," I said, softly, a daze lurking behind my words, eyes and brain, "But tell me, is this a one-off thing or have you started to look again? To be a freaky teen again?"
His eyes widened enough to tell me the answer. "it's just-"
"You mean 'yes', don't you?" I should have felt enraged but... but there was something stirring inside me, something that was horrifying me. My mouth didn't seem at all fazed, though. "You've been staring at my tits a lot, haven't you? And my snatch." I paused and looked into his skittering eyes, shocked at my mouth but now interested to see what it had to say next - perhaps it knew more than my brain, "Have you been having sexual thoughts about me again? Has my nakedness started to excite you like it did when you were a guileless teen?"
"Mum! I'm sorry, I'm really, really- "
It was the next words that sent alarm bells clanging through my lagging brain, "It's okay."
"It's...what?"
I had no idea where these new thoughts were coming from - all revelatory to me - but my mouth seemed to know what it was doing and with the greatest effort imaginable, my mind sat back to enjoy the show, "I said, it's okay. I imagine I was displaying a lot to you, a young man now with no girlfriend for the last three months... I'm sure you have needs as well as me."
"But... what?"
It came coursing through me then in the face of Crispin's confusion. I was - had been for ages - horny, and here was a young man who found the sight of me, of my naked body, arousing. Yes, he was my own flesh and blood - but we were male and female, and the door to the outside world was firmly closed. We had needs. So what if 'society' disapproves of such sentiments? Nature, Mother Nature in this case, was much stronger and denial was pointless. "Needs," my clear-minded mouth said, "Naturism is all about natural reactions, so how could I blame you for your reaction now? Perhaps... no, definitely... I find it... complimentary. "
Crispin was shaking his head - in disbelief more than denial - it seemed, "But you're my-"
"Yes, and I'm a woman - a naked woman. Is that bulge a lie? Do you find me attractive right now? As a woman?" Perhaps I was waiting for his defences to drop. If I had been, I was rewarded.
"Attractive? You're fu... frigging gorgeous!" He ploughed on then, ignoring my denials, "You're so fit and... gorgeous, and yeah, I can see everything and yeah. It gets me excited now and I have no idea why it hasn't every day for years and... and... if you weren't my-"
"Forget who I am. Right this second I'm just a woman."
He shook his head but said anyway, "I adore the way you look! It's more than this," he roughly cupped the front of his shorts, "Yeah, you get me hard again - loads of times lately - and I always follow the rules still, always go off to my room to..."
"Think of me when you play with that thing in there?"
"Yeah! I admit it, I do!"
"So," I said, committed already, my juices starting to flow harder than any amount of denial could obliterate, "If I tore up the rulebook, which would you break first?"
