Telling Mom

Jerking off to the thought of my mother seeing me naked did not seem like a big deal at first, but it planted an idea in my head that just wouldn't go away. I started obsessing over how my mother saw me, if she found me attractive. Did my mother fantasize about guys my age? Her son's age? I started fantasizing about revealing myself to her and would imagine how she'd react. I pictured her face, her body language. Like I said before, my mom wasn't some frail prude who would shriek and run out of the room if a nude man were in it. She would likely remain composed, maybe laugh, and ask the person to get dressed. Maybe sneak a peek; like I said, she wasn't some puritan virgin. But what if it was me? What if she saw me naked? Would she sneak a peek? Would she like what she saw, and desire it?

This might seem like some pretty strong ideation on my part, based as it was on a stray thought. But what fueled it so much was all the confirmation I received that my mom had indeed seen me sleeping naked and that it had bothered her in a way that remained uncomfortable for her even after a few days. For one thing, she didn't get anywhere near my apartment all weekend without texting first. She was courteous but hardly friendly toward me. She avoided eye contact and seemed upset with me. I was able to get her to smile a couple of times by talking about inane subjects. That's when she seemed to forget what happened. But later I guess when the thought crept back in she'd go back to acting awkward around me.

She wouldn't come inside my apartment either, or at least not very far. It was kind of funny, like she was facing an invisible barrier and could only take a step or two into my place. But the hilarious truth was out: she couldn't stand to look at my bed, which in fairness was awkwardly close to the door of my studio apartment. This was all I needed to see in order to be sure that what I thought happened did in fact take place. That was when I got the idea for my trap. So I prepared for the next few days and when everything was ready I thought of some pretext to get her to come over.

I feigned needing help moving some stuff around. "Just some light stuff," I pleaded and she showed up in her usual jeans and tank top. My mother had always been athletic, and she had kept herself well. At 42 she was slim and sprightly, with the fluid and precise movements of a dancer. She was broad-shouldered with toned shoulders and arms. Her main form of exercise was swimming, so she was muscular all over, not to mention well-tanned. But she was also tall at 5'9" and more over had long arms and fingers. I had always loved her arms and always looked forward to when she'd hug me or pat me. I think she may have been teased about her size in school because she was a little self-conscious about her hands. But she wasn't awkward or gangly. She moved quickly and quietly, and with purpose. Now as she was getting older, she had settled into a strong physical profile that often made her the focus of attention a much younger woman might expect.

I was having a hard time not checking her out too much, not to mention popping off a giant boner that would scare her off. I had been sure to wear tight boxers and jeans just in case that happened, but it would be best to come off totally innocent for the moment. So I put her right to work moving a big chair and dresser that I couldn't lift on my own. She still had that reticent, uncomfortable look that she'd had since the other morning. But as we moved the room around and it started to come together I could see she was getting distracted with interior design. She began asking what ideas I had for this space, or suggesting what she thought would look good where. So I indulged in some small talk, and even got her to commit to digging out an old shelf she wasn't using, before hitting her with the grand finale.

"Thanks, mom. One last thing: do you mind helping me drag the bed across the room?"

Just like I thought, the mere mention of the bed seemed to trigger something uncomfortable. Her smile faded a bit, and she didn't answer right away. She even affected being tired a little bit, and I wondered if she was actually considering turning me down on some pretext. I have to confess, aside from everything else I was getting a lot of pleasure from manipulating my mother like this. She is not someone who gets flustered easily, and here I had her like a cornered rabbit who forgot she was a fox.

She put her hands on her hips, huffing a little bit even though we hadn't even broken a sweat. She looked at the bed, then looked across the room to the space she now realized I had kept clear for this purpose. She looked back and nodded, "Let's do it." Always quick to grasp the situation, my mom, that's why we got along so well. But today I was just a bit ahead of her all along.

This was what I had been preparing for. I'm not even sure to this day where exactly I came up with this little trap for my mother. What I am sure about is that once the idea crystallized in my mind I knew immediately that it would mean crossing a line. I also knew immediately that I would cross it.

The morning after I knew my mother had seen me naked, sleeping on my bed, I spent the next four days getting as sweaty as I could. Even if it meant going for a pointless run, I made it a point to exert myself physically thoroughly. It really was not too difficult, since Texas in April is plenty hot. Every time I got a good sweat going, I would take off all my clothes and lay in bed to masturbate. I would just lie there, letting all my horniness drip off me and onto my bed until I came. I left the windows and door open too, for anyone to see, though in truth after what happened there wasn't much chance that my mom would come around without an invitation. But that didn't matter. The point was that I was turning my bed into an altar to sex. I didn't shower for that entire time, not until this morning, so by the end even my pillows smelled like cum. Not enough to stink up the entire room, but if you got close to my bed and sheets anyone would know exactly what they'd been through. This morning I had woken up, intoxicated by my own sex smell. I sniffed my armpits as I jerked off one last time, this time letting my cum go anywhere it wanted. I was so hard in anticipation of this moment that my cock sprayed wildly. Then I took a shower and dressed in clean clothes, making sure to put my dirty laundry away. I cleaned and aired out the apartment. And I even made my bed, making it look deceptively safe and civilized. But since I hadn't changed any of the bedding, even with the cover on it was lying in wait. I took one last whiff to confirm and texted my mom to ask her to come over and help me.

And now here she was. I observed her as she squatted at the edge of the queen-sized frame. I had been avoiding obvious glances this whole time, but even now as I wanted her to think I was just moving a bed with her I couldn't resist looking at her face. She didn't betray much, but I saw that her eyes widened a bit and kinda half-rolled. That was very satisfying. I decided to prolong the pain for her, and the pleasure for me.

"Wait, gimme a second."

I bounded around the bed and across the room, to the new spot I had picked for the bed. My mom had her back to me, since she'd picked that side to lift. I made a show of moving some little stuff around and making a bunch of noise, like some last-minute stuff I had forgotten. But in truth there wasn't anything in the way and if anyone had seen me they would have laughed at my ridiculous farce. But my mom hadn't bothered to turn around. Maybe she was just trying to get this over with.

As I made my way back to the bed, seeing her still squatting with her back to me, I let my fall on her without restraint. She looked absolutely delicious, and I couldn't resist smiling to myself. I even thought of slapping her ass. Or what if I rubbed her bottom? Even better: what about just walking up behind her and rubbing her pussy through her jeans? What would she do? Would I feel her pussy through her jeans and panties? Was she wearing panties? Was she wet? How fast could I make my mother wet if I rubbed her pussy?

All this came to me in the second or so that it took me to walk back to the bed. It was intense, and to be honest I was also eager to get this over with. I was getting extremely aroused intellectually, and I felt that any minute now I would have to cum. If my mom was still here then, I might just pull out my dick and start jerking it off for her.

We moved the bed, lifting it easily. In truth the frame was this light metal and I could have pushed it over myself with only slight damage to a wooden floor. But I had laid my trap, and my mom didn't seem to catch on. Or maybe she was distracted, because what I had done had clearly worked. She was trying to hide it, not making eye contact and trying to hurry out of the room. But I knew better. She had caught a good whiff of me from the bed. And she had liked it. I knew that because the whole time I was watching her from behind, she could have stood up until I came back. If she didn't like the smell, I mean. But she didn't. She stayed in that position, with her face real close to the bed. I looked at her now, as she made small talk and tried to escape. Her face was red, her nostrils were flaring. It was as if they remembered what they had smelled and wanted to pick it out now. Maybe they could. she was still standing next to the bed. I was between her and the door. I could tell she was uncomfortable and wanted to leave, but I was blocking her in. Even though I was nearly at a breaking point myself, I couldn't resist torturing her some more. I crossed my arms and started making the dumbest small talk I could think of. Anything to keep her there, squirming where she stood. I talked about painting the walls, or building a bar counter. She just nodded and agreed with everything. I probably could have suggested a meth lab and she would have just said yes.

Finally I had enough and mentioned something about getting stuff done before dinner. She agreed to that as well, but as a final indignation I still would not moved so she was forced to take the initiative and go around me to get out. I relished that as well, the thought that if hadn't left things would have changed right then and there. I took one last glance at her as she left and then reappeared in my window as she went back inside the main house. I walked back to the pot where she'd been standing last, just about a foot from the bed.

I took a big sniff, and instantly smelled what I was looking for. So that entire time after we finished and I kept her trapped here, she'd been getting another helping of her son's sex smell. It was more than I could handle after the last hour. This time I went and closed the door, and shut the windows. I went back to the bed and tore the cover off, fully exposing the dirty bedding underneath. I didn't undress, but I lay down in my shirt and jeans. I closed my eyes and let my arousal wash over me for a minute. Then I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. I reached into my boxers and took hold of my cock. Surprisingly, I wasn't fully hard at that moment, and for a second I worried that all the jerking off I did in the last three days was going to make this a non-starter. But just then an image of my mother came to me, her face with an expression I had not seen before. It was not the face of fear that I had seen a few moments ago, when she was forced to acknowledge her son's sexuality. It was a look of desire.

My cock grew hard in my hand. In fact, I had to relax my grip because it seemed like my cock wanted to be giant for this moment. As I took it again I reveled in how big and sensitive it was. I ran my fingers down the shaft, palmed my balls. It felt like a timebomb waiting to go off.

Just before I came, I thought of my mother again, squatting in front of me. This time I did slap her ass. She gave an excited yelp, and with that encouragement I rubbed her pussy through her jeans. She moaned at that, and never resisted, even when my hand unbuttoned her jeans. I pulled them down and she even shook her ass a little bit to help me get them off her hips. She was wearing panties, pale yellow cotton ones. Nothing flashy, but they didn't have to be to look good on her. Without bothering to remove them, my hand moved back between her legs. Without any need to prolong it, I deftly moved my fingers to the panty leg and moved them aside, catching a glimpse of her dark hairy pussy before my fingers made contact.

When I touched her, she was soaking wet.

That was when I came. In my bed, fully clothed, rolling around with my eyes closed like some kind of religious zealot. I came so hard I moaned out loud. I was glad I closed the windows and door this time. It was a completely uninhibited orgasm, and any guilt I felt over what had brought me to that orgasm just seemed to fold into it and enhance it more. It was like a drug, and I was happily addicted. I knew then what I had to do.

I had to make my mother want to fuck me.