The soft knock on my bedroom door woke me up and started my heart pounding. "Come in," I called. I sat up in my bed and turned, dropping my legs over the side, so I was facing the door.
The door opened and she walked into my room, looking incredibly nervous. She was wearing a long, worn bathrobe that, before hundreds of washings, was a pink plaid belted around her waist. Her fingers clutched the neck of the robe, holding that shut, as if she wanted to be sure nothing showed. Her straight light brown hair fell almost to her bottom. She wore no makeup and wasn't what some people would call beautiful, but she did have the kind of features that made her a woman you'd notice without being sure why. Her big brown eyes were open wide and darted around the room, showing her nervousness...or was it fear? She stood almost five feet ten inches tall in her slippers and was thirty-nine years old, although her unlined face and clear skin made her look much younger than that. Her name was Jonelle Wallace...she was my mother.
"Come over here, Mother," I said softly.
When I spoke, she made a tiny sound something like a cross between a gasp and a moan, then she walked slowly and stiff-legged to the bed I sat on and stood in front of me.
I looked up at her and she looked down at me with "scared deer" eyes. "Are you sure you want to be here?" I said softly. I wondered if she could hear my heart pounding.
She stared at me for quite a while, then slowly nodded her head.
"All right," I said. I reached out a hand that I could see was trembling and untied the belt around the waist of her robe. The robe relaxed when the belt was loosed, but since she was still clutching the neck, it remained closed.
"Let go," I said softly.
She took a deep breath and didn't move for what seemed like ages. Finally her fingers straightened slowly, releasing the neck of the bathrobe. After she'd released the robe her arms fell to her sides. The robe was still shut. I took a deep breath, reached out, parted it, and was gazing at my mother's naked body for the first time.
"Oh, God!" I exclaimed.
Mother quickly lifted her hands and tried to close the robe, but I put my hands on hers and stopped her.
"You...you think I...I'm ugly," she murmured. Her face was red and she was avoiding looking at me.
"No, Mother, it's just the opposite. I think you have an incredible body," I told her.
And she did. She probably weighed somewhere around one-forty and her body was a nearly perfect combination of curves and valleys. Her breasts were large, but not huge, and sagged a bit because she had nursed me when I was an infant. What caught my eye were her nipples. She had the largest nipples I'd ever seen. They were beginning to erect under my gaze and had to be at least three-quarters of an inch in diameter. They were beginning to emerge from the large pale pink circles that capped her breasts. Her body curved gracefully from strong shoulders down to a surprisingly small waist, then flared beautifully out into hips that were in exactly the right proportion with the rest of her body. Equally lovely curves led from there to long, strong, and very well formed legs.
"You...seeing you...looking...at...at me...like that...it...makes...it makes me...feel funny," Mother stammered. "We...we shouldn't be...doing...this..."
I reached out my hand and lightly trailed my fingers over her belly, which was softly rounded and still showed faint stretch marks. She shuddered and gasped. "Yes, Mother, we should be doing this," I told her. "We both want to." Much as I wanted to grab my mother's breasts and suck those huge nipples into my mouth, I didn't. I stood up and walked around behind her instead. Then I took hold of her bathrobe and pulled it back. Initially she stood there stiff, resisting me, but she finally relented and allowed me to take it off.
I tossed the robe onto a chair near my bed, then I let my eyes roam over the rear of my mother's lovely body. Much of her back was covered by her straight, shiny light brown hair. Her hair was her one vanity. She combed if faithfully, a hundred strokes, every night. When I was old enough, she taught me to cut it because it wasn't possible for her to go to a hairdresser.
Her bare bottom was every bit as wonderful to see as the rest of her had been. I know I probably sound like a broken record, but perfect is the only word I can find to describe it. Wide, but formed perfectly, I thought it was the epitome of womanhood. I stepped closer to her and began running my fingers through her hair. She moaned softly. She liked to have me play with her hair, and had since I was little. I knew it was the safest way to start a process that I believed would lead to so much more...for both of us.
"You like having me do this, don't you?" I murmured as my fingers stole through her silken tresses. I was wearing a pair of cutoff jeans and my erection was already threatening to tear a hole in them.
"Yes! You know I do," Mother murmured in reply.
