Divorce changes you, they say. It certainly did my mother. When my dad left her for a younger, slimmer coworker, it hit her hard. Late thirties, she had gained a few pounds, and not in all the right places. Before the divorce even got finalized, she decided she was unattractive, and went on a tear to remedy that. First was a gym membership, and then the weight loss program. Her body toned up, and she did lose some weight, but unfortunately much of that loss came from her boobs.
Throughout the process, she leaned on me, Gunnar, her 18-year old son. I recognized her insecurities, made worse every time I returned from visiting my dad and his hot girlfriend, now fiancΓ©e, per the divorce decree. My mom kept peppering me with questions about her: what were her measurements? How much did she weigh? What did she do to maintain her shape? Where did they go, what did they do, how often did he bonk her... it was endless.
During her self-transformation, she turned me into her confidant. Every morning I had to stand behind her at her weigh-in. To keep her accountable, she said, but I think it was to hear a cheerleader encouraging her.
To lessen the load on the scale, she wore less and less at the weigh-in every morning. I don't know how many women choose their underwear based on how much it weighs, but Mom did. To say she was fanatical about losing her weight would be like saying the Queen Mary is a cute little boat.
As a consequence, I got to see my mother wearing less and less with each passing day. Her panties became shearer and her bras flimsier, all in the pursuit of a more favorable scale reading.
Like most boys growing up, I thought my mom was sexy, even wanked at her image a time or twenty, but how many boys get to look at their mom in real life every single morning wearing hardly anything at all? My reaction wasn't subtle--I couldn't hide behind her as she stepped on the scale. No, I had to stand next to her so I could witness the reading. Can you imagine? Mom, naked but for flimsier and flimsier see-through panties and bra, not just wanting me to look at her, but craving my ogling. Just in the name of weight loss, of course, and with affirmation and encouragement. I didn't need a rocket science degree to figure out: keep complimenting mom and see a live cam show.
I'm sure she couldn't but notice the towering effect it had on a hormone-driven teenage boy, but she never mentioned it.
With her see-through panties, I couldn't help noticing the lush bush being revealed more and more. One day I facetiously mentioned to Mom she could lessen the load on the scale by a few ounces if she shaved that off.
Which unexpectedly resulted in my world's first tectonic plate shift. "Great idea, Gunnar! But I can't see so well down there. You shave every day--would you shave me?" Shivering shitty shenanigans. Trying to make fun of it, I replied, "Is the Pope still Catholic? I'd be happy to shave the sexiest woman in Texas."
She gave a nervous giggle. "Okay, I have to get to work, but how about we do that tonight after dinner?"
Up to now, there was nothing sexual between my mother and I, beyond my normal fantasy of boffing her while I wanked--your normal young guy/MILF thing. This was something new, though. Friday was a total loss for me. During Miss Donahue's math class, all I could think of was whether she was shaved or not. The question had never occurred before, now it was all I could think of. Mrs. Bainbridge's biology class the same. Fortunately our English teacher was a guy, but while he pontificated on some arcane grammar rules, all I could think of was how much I'd be able to feel up my mother tonight while shaving her. And the nirvana of having to do it again a few days later.
When we sat down for dinner that night, I noticed mom couldn't look me in the eye, and her hand shook a little as she dished up the last of the casserole she had made for the week. Her portion, as usual, was minuscule. Then it struck me: she must have thought about it the whole day, too! When this woman latched onto something, she went for it with all she had.
"Mom, were you thinking about tonight during your work day?" I smiled to take out any implication of judgment.
A huge blush spread from her neck up. "Uhh, how did you know? Were you?"
I nodded. "It was all I could think of."
"Yeah?" She sounded relieved, but worried.
To head off any suspicion of untoward thoughts, I put on my best Oscar performance. How could I tell her about my plans and strategies to get my lips on 'those' lips of hers? She'd disown me. "Yeah, I was thinking about how to avoid cutting you, or hurting you. Sometimes with a new blade, I shave a little too close, and my skin burns for several hours. I don't want to do that to you--I love you too much to ever want to hurt you."
"Aww, you are such a sweetie." Her voice dropped conspiratorially. "I asked Janet at work today about shaving down there. Can you believe how blown away I was when she told me she always kept herself smooth? Every third day, she said. I had no idea! I asked her how she did it, and she said her husband did it for her, and every time it leads to mindblowing sex. I asked if she knew of anyone else who shaved and she said all the women under thirty did, had I ever looked at porn stars? Apparently they ALL shave. Holy clappers, she made me feel like I'm a dinosaur. When I said that, she laughed... but didn't correct me."
My head spun even more when she looked at me closely. "You're an adult now, and you know I don't judge you, am I right?"
"Yes ma'am, no ma'am, I don't feel like you judge me."
She giggled. "I know you masturbate."
"Moooom," I cried. "TMI!"
"Hey, I'm the one who does laundry and I see your crusty underwear. But, I've never judged you. All young men do it. Even women." She blushed.
"Mom, you masturbate, too?"
Looking down, she said softly. "Hey, I'm not judging you..."
"Oh mom, I'm not judging you either, quite the opposite. I think it's so hot that my sexy mother also masturbates. Wow. I've just never thought of that. What do you think of when you masturbate?"
"That's private. I'll never ask you what you think about."
"Aren't you curious, though?"
Pressing her lips together, she looked into the distance. "Like you, I've never really thought about it. The first time I noticed cum on your underpants, I just shrugged and thought, well, my son's joined the real world now, and that was pretty much it. But, now that you mentioned it, I am curious, but I respect your privacy and I told myself I won't pry."
"Thank you. But if you tell me yours I'll tell you mine."
Laughing, she rose and started clearing the table. "Some things are best left undiscussed. Are you ready to help your old mother lose a few ounces and join the 21st century? I bought new blades for my razor."
"Oh I'm always ready to help my MILF reach her goals."
"Stop it! For your information, I know what a MILF is. I'm not that much of a dinosaur, I'll have you know. Let's head up to my bathroom."
On the way up the stairs it hit me for the first time: I was going to see my hot mother totally naked for the first time ever! I was amazed that she fell for what was pretty much a BS idea--I mean, how much difference will a few pubic hairs make to her weight? But... she was the queen of focus and once her mind was set on losing weight, every ounce mattered. Was I going to complain? On the other hand, could she be hot for me, and using my BS as an excuse to cross the line with me?
In my dreams.
Maybe.
Still...
As I regarded her wiggling ass in front of me up the stairs I began getting hard. Who knew what all could come from this adventure? Maybe I could convince her to shave me in return?
When we got to her bedroom, she turned around. "What do we do now?"
"Three steps," I replied. "The first one is dry, and the next two wet. First we're going to use clippers to get rid of the surplus long hair. Simple, just like a hair stylist cutting hair off your head. Then, you take a bath to let everything soak. If you want, you can use that time to shave your legs like you usually do.
"Phase two starts with your pubic hair, which we shave off with the razor. When that's done, we clean up your back door--there are always more hairs there than you think of, and when you wear a bikini, those are the ones that stick out and embarrass you the most, especially because you can't see them."
Drawing in a deep breath, she hesitated. "I don't know about this. You're going to be seeing everything."
"True. But, no offense, it's not anything I've not seen on thousands of internet pictures."
"Pervert! None of them are your own flesh and blood mother, though."
Nodding, I agreed. "The one who gave birth to me. The one who is focused on her goal to lose weight and, along the way, join the 21st century."
Stepping back, I held my hands up. "Look, I'm the one doing you a favor. If you don't want to go ahead, no harm, no foul. I'm doing this only to help you." Going for an Oscar, I pretended that getting a close-up view of my sexy mom's pussy had NOTHING to do with it.
Again, the pause as conflicting thoughts raced across her pretty face. Drawing in a breath, she said, "You're right. Let's do it. But I don't have clippers. Can we use scissors?"
"Sure. But I have an attachment on my electric razor; that'll be the easiest and quickest. Let me go and fetch it. You can get a towel and set it on the toilet."
She was not done with her hesitation. "Why don't you give me your razor? Shaving off the bulky hair is not going to be hard. That way you don't have to look at everything."
With a shrug, I said, "Makes no difference to me. The dry shaving is going to take only a minute or two, while the rest is going to take be bulk of the time. And for that I will have to 'look at everything.'" I made air quotes to emphasize the sarcasm.