I know it has been a while since I posted, but I have been very busy at work. I had several requests from loyal readers, so I have been working on this one for several weeks off and on and finally have it finished. Like so many others, I think it begs a sequel, and I will do them all as time permits. Thanks to everyone who sent emails with comments. This is another in the mother/son genre, so if you are offended by this kind of story, you should probably pass this one by.
I'm not sure when I first noticed my mother was a sexual being and not just the messenger of all things wrong in my life, but I think it was when she bent down to straighten my little brother's shirt before we went out to eat when my older sister graduated from high school, and unwittingly flashed her white, almost transparent nylon panties at me in the process.
At first I felt my face go red thinking she might see me looking up her skirt, but she was so absorbed with what she was doing that I was a complete afterthought. I was almost 14 at the time, and I must have jerked off a hundred times to the image that was branded in my mind over the next year. I imagined running my hands up her soft legs, and her grabbing my hard cock and stuffing it into her mouth, all the while looking helplessly into my eyes just before pulling my cock out of her mouth to allow it to spray ropes of cum all over her face and hair. In my fantasies she would then give me this bad girl look before licking the last dollop of cum off my cockhead and planting a big kiss on the tip of my dick leaving the red outline of her lipstick like a royal wax seal of approval.
Interwoven with my fantasies though was the real world, and in it things were always a little tense around our house, and as I grew older, my mother's testiness and my raging hormones made poor bedfellows, causing our already not overly close relationship to grow even further apart. Even in the tensest of times though, I was always looking to get a glimpse of her in something flimsy.
Mom was exceptionally beautiful, so no one could blame a guy for having incestuous thoughts. She had auburn hair and almond eyes that coupled with her white teeth made her face sparkle when she laughed. She wore her hair pulled back from her face, revealing dainty ears, gold and pearl earrings and high cheekbones, which with the slightly darker hue of her face were about the only evidences of her 1/16 Native American heritage. She was slightly taller than average at a little over 5' 6", and was a somewhat on the thin side with 34B breasts and a 24" waist. She had many good features and looked so elegant when she was dressed up that it was hard to select a particular one, but if you penned me down, I would have to say that her legs and ass were just amazing. She had long legs with shapely calves and soft, light caramel-colored thighs and an ass that showed no sign of fat, or aging. When she dressed in a plain blouse, jeans and tennis shoes she looked amazing; when she lost the tennis shoes and slipped on a pair of heels, she was every man's wet dream.
By the time I turned 18, I had already graduated and been a year out of high school and was still unsure about what I wanted to do with my life. As it turned out, it was decided for me when my cousin and I went out a week after my eighteenth birthday and got shit faced, and later that night got picked up for disorderly conduct. I had grown up in a small town and was totally ignorant of the ways of the world, and the Chief of Police had no problem convincing me and my cousin that it was either join the Army, or face charges and go to jail. So, sitting in his office the next morning, the Army recruiter came in and before either of us sobered up enough to know what was happening, we were in the Army with orders to report within a matter of a few days. I think mom always felt a little guilty about not intervening, because after I had signed the paperwork, her demeanor toward me seemed to change dramatically.
But, what was done was done, and it was almost five months later after basic and then airborne training, that I was able to take my first real leave and go home. After her divorce many years earlier, my mother had begun the practice of taking all the kids to stay at our grandmother's house for several weeks during the summer, and this summer was no exception. My mother's sister Sarah lived with my grandmother and since she had no children of her own, she always doted on her nieces and nephews. Since I finished airborne training at the start of June, when I arrived home, I found my mother there by herself. As much as I love my younger siblings, I needed some peace and quiet to calm the frayed nerves arising from the frenetic pace of training I had just went through, and for once was not disappointed that they were not home. Besides, I would see them over the Christmas holidays if all went according to plan.
The quiet seemed to have a calming effect on my mother as well, and we settled into a comfortable routine where we enjoyed a pleasant dinner that I prepared, a few glasses of wine and some real conversation in the evenings after she returned home from work. Our household had always been so loud and busy that we had never really talked to one another, and we both agreed that we were enjoying the time together. I noticed that mom was now always seeking to make physical contact with me, much more than ever in the past. When we were together, she never missed a chance to touch my arm, or rub my bare leg, or kiss me on the cheek, or give me a hug. My mother still looked like a goddess, so that was great with me.
Happy with this new, better relationship with my mother, after four days of being home, I was starting to feel normal again and when Saturday arrived, I decided to go into town and see some old friends. Mom said she was going to clean the house and do some shopping and would see me later.
I hung out in town with friends for several hours, but somehow they seemed young and immature to me, and after a time got bored and decided to go home and catch a baseball game on television. When I pulled up in my old Chevrolet truck I saw mom's 2006 BMW in the drive, and for some reason my whole demeanor brightened at the thought of sharing some more time with her.
I walked in the door and wandered around the house, but did not see mom, so finally I called, "Mom! Where are you?"
"I'm down here in the basement!" she called back.
Years ago, dad had redone the basement and made it into a game room/storage room. I followed mom's voice and opened up the door and walked down the stairs. She was sitting cross legged on a thick rectangular rug in front of an open cedar chest full of clothes.
"Hi, what are you doing down here?"
"Hey, sugar, I didn't expect you so early. I was just looking through some old clothes of mine from high school and college. I was just killing some time. Besides, I thought you might make up with Mandy and do something with her." Mandy and I had broken up before I went into the service, and she had already found someone new: so much for true love.
"I think she and I are history. Hey, what did the styles look like back then?" I said quickly changing a sore subject.
"Well, for one thing, everything was a lot shorter," she said holding up a miniskirt that clearly did not run the skirt maker out of material.
"Wow! That looks like a tube skirt without the tube!" I exclaimed. In my mind's eye, I drew the skirt over mom's sweet ass and I immediately sprouted a hard on.
"Check this one out!" She said and pulled a pair of pink hot pants from chest.
"Gosh mom, you were a bad little girl," I said smiling.
"Me and just about everyone else that could fit into a pair!" she joked back.
Next out of the chest was a wild paisley colored blouse and a pair of faded bell bottom pants; something straight out of the late 60's. "Mom, you weren't born until 1971, I thought these were the rage during the 60's."
"They were. These actually belonged to your grandmother. I thought this outfit was so cool that I nagged her until she gave them to me when I was about 14."
"Let me see it on you." I said.
"Don't be silly, Rob! I doubt I could get into them anyway," she added pensively.
"I'll bet you could. They look like they will still fit you," I insisted.
We went back and forth for another couple of minutes and finally she gave in and went to the bathroom to change. A few moments later she emerged looking like she could have fit in on one of the videos I had seen on some documentary that was taken from Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco over a quarter century ago. She twirled around with her arms out, hair flying, bell bottoms flaring with a big smile on her face.
I laughed and called her a hippy and then asked what else she had in the chest.
Mom appeared happy with this new game and skipped to the chest and plopped down in front of it.
She pulled out a skimpy looking yellow bikini and twirled the top around her finger. "I haven't seen this in ages." She exclaimed.
"Let me see you in that!" I begged.
"Not a chance!"
"C'mon, mom, it isn't like I haven't seen you in a bathing suit, you know."
