Path to a New Family

***Author's Note***

This is the first chapter of many that set up a storyline

All characters are 18 years or older

I stared at my ceiling as my cell phone alarm was going off. Trying to decide whether to get up or not, I grabbed my cell phone to cease the buzzing. No new messages, no missed calls, a far cry from not too long ago. A new path has been forged, one that dramatically changed my life forever. Whereas before I had a girlfriend, a life, a plan, now I have nothing but questions. My name is Matt, and this is my story, one I believe is different from most, yet based on the same wants and desires as most. The details of my life are complicated, and as the uniqueness arises, I will provide more detail.

First off the who, Matt. Eighteen years old, standing 6'6", short brown hair and brown eyes, 220 lbs and in decent shape. Trying hard to get to a 6 pack but sometimes your favorite foods are hard to give up. In general you have a man who plays sports in the free time, and that is what keeps him in shape.

Secondly, the family. There are four of us including me. There is my mother Rachel, my aunt Stacie, and my cousin Vikki. Some maybe asking why I have included my extended family in this description, and this maybe the first uniqueness. When I say there are four of us, I mean truly that. There are no other family members, whether it be by accident, fate, age, or who knows what, the cards that my family have been dealt are not your average.

As for my father, he is nonexistent, not because I don't want to know who he is, or that he doesn't want to know me, it's that my mother doesn't know who he is. The most unique one night stand story I have ever heard, and won't bore you with, has left me with not a single ounce of desire to find out who he is. Only to be followed closely by the second most unique one night stand story with my Aunt Stacie producing my cousin Vikki. My cousin also having the same lack of drive or desire in finding who her father is. No grandparents, no other cousins, just the four of us and me being the only male, feeling like the center.

So as I awoke, I pondered the old path. The one where I thought I had life all figured out. It wasn't too long ago that I had picked up that same phone only to see one to two text messages from my girlfriend telling me to get up. I know I am only eighteen but I really did think I had life figured out. I was going to marry her, and start a family. We were the same age, but due to the different ages we started school I had graduated while she had another year left. So I stayed local to be with her. Then it all changed. She like all the other girls I see nowadays had decided that she wanted to have her party 20's at college, and that I was going to prevent that. So it ended, just like that.

We jump to today, not because the period of being heartbroken is irrelevant to the story, but because this is the first day on that new path, the path that I could never have possibly imagined. As I walked out of my bedroom and headed for the kitchen. My mother was standing at the sink, having made herself breakfast, she was cleaning her dishes. She was wearing these blue lace pajama bottoms, with a lighter blue tank top. This caught my eye this morning, which was odd.

This was a scene I had seen a million times before, but there was something different about it today. Something I could never have imagined and it felt like I wasn't looking at my mother in the traditional sense. She was my mother, I was her son, but it was like this relationship had a new light being shined on it. And through these new glasses one word came to mind, opposite.

My ex girlfriend, who shall remain nameless, was the opposite of my mother. My ex was 5'2'', petite, had A cup breasts, blonde hair, and blue eyes. A very cute, and in general a very tiny girl, especially in comparison to me being 6'6". My mother was somewhat the opposite. My mother Rachel was 5'8", weighed 130 lbs, had long brown hair, and brown eyes. Her body was average to hour glass, having curves in all the right places some may say. She was by all accounts a mother, a flat but not firm stomach, 38 D breasts, and beautiful. Not hot, or cute, just this look of beauty from a mature woman. I say mature even though she was only 36 years old having had me when she was 18.

A look I had seen time and time again, but today had stopped me in my tracks in the kitchen. My eyes drawn to this woman in her pajamas, seeing the blue lace of the bottoms hug the curves of her hips, and wrap around the bubble of her butt. Seeing her shirt bunched at her waist, yet tighten towards the top being pulled out by her breasts. I stood there not making a peep, not because I didn't want her to see me, but because I was in awe of how I was looking at her. After a few moments I awoke from my trance.

"Good Morning," I said to her, walking up next to her to open the cupboard.

"Good morning," She said back, leaning up to kiss me on the cheek, something she rarely did. I grabbed the cereal, a bowl, the milk and sat down at the kitchen table. My mother turned back to the sink, and I once again resumed the view that had caught my attention when I entered the room.

I could tell by the way her clothes hugged her that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. No bra, no panties, just the lace bottoms and a tank top. The look of awe on my face didn't match the puzzlement in my mind. Why did I care that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Why of all days we I enthralled by all these little details about my mother.

I have never eaten cereal more slowly in my life until that day. Each bite seemed to take forever from bowl to my mouth. Watching my mother wash dishes, the way her muscles moved, the way her butt jiggled a little with each scrub. Seeing the lace shape around her ass, the fabric forming the crease between her ass cheeks, watching the lace loosen as my eyes went down her legs. It was like being mesmerized. With each passing moment, I cared less and less why I was so taken with her. With a spoonful in my mouth, she turned around, and just smiled at me.

"All done", she said, walking to the table to sit down across from me.

She seemed to be oblivious to my gazes. My eyes now fixed on her breasts as she walked toward me. It was like a scene out of a movie. The morning sun coming through the kitchen window hitting her just right, illuminating her hair, all while my eyes were staring bullets right at her nipples. They were hard and very easy to notice as her tank top hugged her chest tight. Her breasts slowly swaying and bouncing a bit too each side as she took a step. As she sat down, I finished the bite that must have been held in my mouth by the spoon for what felt like an eternity.

"So how are you doing Matt?" She asked while reaching her hand out to hold mine that was resting on the table.

"I'm doing find Mom" I responded, the priority in my head noticing how soft her hand was, and not really understanding the question.

"I can tell you're not heartbroken anymore, but you know there is someone out there for you. You will find a real woman who will love you for the great man that you are." She said this smiling and squeezing my hand.

"I know Mom, and it just is what it is. I know I am young, but I know what I want. I want to be married and I want to have a family. It seems so simple yet apparently I have to wait for it."

My Mom released her hand from mine, and said "Well don't wait too long. After you were born I became very very picky when it came to the men I dated. Never once seemed to live up to the level I wanted. So you were the only man that I needed."

Now I had known my mother rarely dated, but it wasn't until she said that that I was reminded of the truth of that statement. I can't recall a single guy my mother went on a second date with. When I was younger I could recall her going out, and coming back late. Never the same guy though. Then as time went on, those first dates became more and more infrequent. The routine was always the same. They would walk her to the door, try to give her a kiss, maybe she would let them kiss her cheek, and that was the end of the date. She would walk into the house, put her stuff down, and check on me. Then it hit me that my mom hasn't gone on a date since I was 14.

"So Mom, you are worried about me, but what about you? What do you want?" I said, pushing my cereal bowl to the side and leaning back in my chair.

She sighed, "Even though my life is totally complete with you Matt, I really do wish I would find a great man and get married and have another baby."

"Well," I said leaning forward towards her. "Here is to us finding true love and happiness." I held my hand up holding an imaginary glass. As Mom got up she made the same gesture and said, "Cheers to that!"

She pushed the chair in and uttered, "Time to get dressed," walking by me I instinctively turned my head to the left. My head just below eye level with her breasts, watching them again bounce slowly. Her blue lace pajama bottoms inches away, knowing that was the only fabric between me and her skin. My head continuing to turn going to straight to her ass as she walked towards her bedroom until the door shut. Never once had any of this happened. A thousand previous breakfasts and I had never checked out my mom. From the moment I walked into the kitchen to the moment she left, my eyes didn't leave the sight of her once.

Even the conversation was different. It was strange to me that it all felt like a first date. Both asking what we want out of things and giving the same answer. Checking her out as if it I was set up on a blind date and to my amazement it was with a beauty like my mom. As I picked my bowl up I realized something. I was aroused.

Now obviously being 18, morning wood was a natural state in my every day morning routine. However I was more than calmed down before I came into the kitchen. I sat there in my pajamas, which for me was just a white t-shirt and black basketball shorts. So many questions ran through my head. At what point did I get hard? Was it the first moment I saw her, the conversation, her sitting across from me, or walking away. For the life of me I couldn't narrow it down.

How could I not remember or not even notice. As I sit there, my cock is pushed down right next to my left leg, feeling all 8 inches of it. The clear feeling of it trying to stand at full attention, but only to have the fabric of my shorts keep it inline. Also, the feeling of just how hard it was. Now in most cases a guy gets hard and that is that. Every once and awhile, usually through teasing or wanting it very bad, I swear I will pump so much blood down there, every vein, and every part of my cock will be harder than a rock, literally. That was where I was, and up until my mom left the room I hadn't even noticed.

I put my bowl in the sink and started walking down the hall back to my room. With my room being at the end of the hall this would mean I would be passing my mother's room on the left. As I walked, being led my still hard cock pushing through my shorts; I noticed that my Mother's door was about 2 inches open. My first thought being that she had thought to have closed it only to have it open up a little. Never once entertaining the thought that she had left it open purposely, I mean why would she?

As if it was destiny, as if the grand designer of this house had put everything in its place, everything just where it needed to be. Through the 2 inch gap of her door, I was able to see a clear shot into the bathroom which was on the right side of her bedroom. In looking through the gap I saw the bathroom door open. My guess believing that she thought she had closed the bedroom door and she hardly ever had a need to close the bathroom door. My sightline was right into the bathroom mirror looking right at my mom. I stopped instantly in my tracks, not for fear, not for excitement, but again looking at her like I had never seen before.

As if on cue, as if she had been magically waiting for me, she looked herself over and her hands reached for the bottom of her tank top. Now I had never seen my Mother naked before. In an instant, all the vivid memories of her body came rushing in. She in tight dresses, her in a swimsuit, in her pajamas, shirts that hugged her body, all of it was filling my brain. Just as all those images were shot into my brain, it went blank. I was zoned in on the mirror, and what I was about to see.

She pulled the tank top off slowly, revealing her midsection. As I said before her body has curves. Her stomach that she was revealing was flat. As the shirt rose higher you could see her extend her hands outward in order to go around her breasts. I was in total awe. I had never pictured what her breasts looked like before, it wasn't until just this morning that I had begun to check out my mom, and in record time I was going to see it all. With the shirt now all the way off, she tossed it to the side. Her hands now at her side, almost posing for a few seconds and what a pose it was. Her nipples were hard, and her areolas small. Not taking up much space on her D sized breasts. They were natural, and in all great description looked like these two perfect pillows on her chest, naturally each leaning to each side. Curved perfectly I could definitely tell why her tank top hugged them back. Her nipples perfectly placed in the center. These were a far far cry from the A cups I had spent the last couple years with.

I couldn't speak or think. Like a reconnaissance team I was running my eyes over every inch of her upper body. Not just her breasts, but how her hair fell over each shoulder. How her arms placed at her side, right behind the edges of her breasts. How you could see the somewhat hourglass figure she had. Wider in her chest, going in a little, and starting to widen at her hips, and just like that her hands were on the waistband of her lace pajama bottoms.

As she started to push them down, she disappeared dropping below the counter, and I will fully admit my heart skipped a beat fearing I wouldn't see her pop back up. Instead I was in luck. As she stepped out of the pajama bottoms, she stepped closer to the bathroom door, giving me not only the front view from the mirror, but an actual side view. Her pussy was trimmed. I don't know if that shocked me or not. She hadn't had any male visitors or male attention to my knowledge, but that of course didn't mean she didn't want to keep things in order. It was a landing strip, and looked to be crafted by the gods; every little hair seemed to be in perfect place leading down between her legs. Glancing from the front to side, I received a good look at her left ass cheek. This bubble butt that I had been staring at earlier was now present to me, at least half of it.

I had seen my mom in a bikini before, but something about seeing her naked puts everything into context. Her hips looked wider, her butt looked bigger, seeing it cup back to her thighs, seeing her legs, everything just seemed to fit. Her body, her curves, seeing her breasts hang down, her ass free of all clothes, all of it, every inch of it was all symmetrical. She was beautiful. She wasn't by any means some thin model but that didn't matter. I was looking at the most beautiful thing I had ever seen with my own eyes.

With an instant she was gone, going farther in to the bathroom, away from where I could see her in the reflection. As is stood in the hall, my body felt like an engine. My heart beating a mile a minute, trying to pump as much blood as it could to the muscle between my legs. As I took that first step towards my room I heard that familiar sound of the water in the shower turning on.

Finally making it to my room I was like a dog chasing his tail. So much had changed in so little time, but nothing was truly different. I ran my hand through my hair scratching my head until I gazed into my bathroom. I walked slowly toward my bathroom, recognizing things which had always been true, but just didn't matter to me before today. As I got closer to my bathroom you could hear the water running through the pipes in the wall. As I said before my Mother's room is on the left side of the hall and mine is at the end. Our bathrooms share a wall. A fact I had always known, but up until that moment hadn't cared about.

With a desire that I felt I could walk through that wall I started walking towards my shower. I removed my shirt with ease, and with a little wider tug, was able to pull off my shorts. Only to leave my cock bouncing up and down before it finally settled down. Like a GPS devise pointing at its location, my cock was rod pointing right at my shower. Technically through the shower at the woman on the other side, the woman I now seemed to desire.

As I got in and turned on the water I knew she would know I was just on the other side of the wall. While we rarely showered at the same time, it's obvious when we both are showering. You hear the water, and of course that first change in pressure as the hot water now has to go to two destinations. As the water started to drip down my body, I looked at the wall, trying to imagine what it looks like flowing down my Mother's. I reached my right hand down and began to stroke my cock. I wasn't going fast, and I didn't need to. As hard as I was I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before I came.

As I closed my eyes I pictured all the details of her body I had just seen. I felt the water slide down my body, down my arm, to my hand where it encircles my cock. Sliding back and forth, I truly feel how hard I really was, how hard my Mom had unknowingly made me. As I continued to stroke there was only one thing on this earth that could have broke me from the trance I was in. I heard her voice. Through the noise of the water, the wall, and the additional noise of her shower, I could hear her voice. Was she singing? Was she moaning?

Then it all hit me. The idea of her moaning instantly put an image in my head. That image was of her naked in the shower, her hair wet, flowing down her shoulders and on her back. The water, soapy, was dripping down her chest, and like a river flowing down her stomach right over her trimmed pussy. Her left hand pushed up against the wall that was connected to my shower, and her right hand buried between her legs. That picture had her at orgasm, and with her familiar voice she was moaning "Oh Matt!!!"

I was a goner at that point. Instinctively I reached up to the shared wall with my left hand, and moaned, "Oh God Rachel I'm cummingggggg!!!" And oh did I ever cum. I lost count of how many times I shot a load in the shower, but it felt like more than I ever have. Even when I thought I was done, I felt this last push coming from my toes to fire one last shot into the shower.

As I leaned over to catch my breath, I was given a shock when she turned her shower off. Shocked not by the act, but by the fact it was followed so closely after I had yelled "Rachel I'm cumming." Had she heard me or was it just a coincidence. My nerves instantly changed into questions. Was she really just singing in the shower, talking to herself, or did I catch her in a moment of pleasure? Did she hear me yelling, in my moment of ecstasy? Had I yelled to the entire house that I was cumming?

Through all of that, the number one question that I pondered as the water continued to pour on my back, I had obviously been overcome with excitement by her and I would have to deal with that in the coming days. However, when the image of her cumming on the other side of the wall, I instantly thought she would say Matt, and I said Rachel. I had referred to her by her first name, not mom, or mother, but Rachel. A name I have never referred to her before.

I stayed in the shower for a few minutes more before I toweled off and got dressed. I stood by my door about to open it and potentially face my Mother Rachel for the first time since this defining act.