Son discovers that his mom is part of his inheritance.
Authors notes:
One of my sadly anonymous readers requested that I try to make a story like this, so here it is, I hope it scratches your itch.
In case it is unclear to some, everyone in this story is eighteen years or older.
Yes, our MC has recently turned eighteen, and this takes place shortly after that.
XXX
My dad's death came as no shock to any of us.
He was pretty old, and he had lived a great life.
Still, it could have been timed a little better.
Days before my eighteenth birthday, he just keeled over dead, massive cardiac arrest.
My party got canceled, even the strippers in a cake my old man har promised me.
I had to make do with a quiet little dinner, and a promise that we would have a party once everything else was dealt with.
So a few days after I had turned eighteen, I had to arrange a funeral, and contact lawyers and the authorities and all that.
My mom was a mess, doing her best, but let's just say my dad didn't marry her for her brains.
She was much younger than my dad, not even forty yet, and thanks to all the expensive skin products and spa treatments and her busy workout schedule that dad's money allowed her, she looked more like my older sister than my mom.
Quite the looker for sure, and ask her anything about fitness and health, and she was a font of knowledge.
But she never had the time for any real education, focusing instead on always looking her best for dad, and being there for him whenever he needed her for anything.
So that's the reason I found myself going through my dad's office, trying to get his affairs in order.
It was mostly old school, dark wood and leather furniture, with a few nods to modern life in the form of his multiple monitor computer setup that he used for business, and the huge panorama windows that allowed him a nice view of our well kept garden, and my moms favorite yoga spot.
The windows were the one-way sort, making me feel slightly guilty as I couldn't help being distracted by my mom's yoga routine.
I guess old habits die hard, so even though I was in his office, getting things sorted, she was still going through the motions of staying fit and limber.
Even if she is my mom, I still had to pause and admire her ass for a while, as the combination of her interesting positions and the tight yoga pants all but gave the appearance of a thin layer of bodypaint.
Tearing myself loose from the entertainment just outside the windows, and adjusting my crotch that had gotten uncomfortably tight, I managed to get back on task.
Rifling through the piles, I happened upon a large manilla envelope, that seemed to have a few things inside.
Pouring the contents out, I recognized my dad's keys, watch, various other personal effects, and of course the family ring.
A wide gold band with a large red gem of some sort.
According to his stories, the ring had been in our family for generations, and it was said that as long as it remained in our possession, our family would prosper.
A nice tale for sure, but he was very serious about it, making me promise I would never let it go, that it would never leave our family.
I missed him a lot. Looking at the ring, I felt adrift, what would I do without him?
It's funny how when you are completely lost, the mind will focus on the most absurd things.
Like how the ring was surely too large to fit on any of my fingers, I would drop it for sure, if I were to actually wear it.
Just to test it, I slipped it on my largest finger, my right middle finger, thinking it was probably larger enough to be a loose fit on my thumbs too.
I was wrong. As I slipped it on my finger, it felt warm, like dad had just slipped it off a moment before. For a single moment, the unusual sensation of wearing a ring made it feel like it was burning hot, but the sensation vanished as soon as it started, making me gasp and almost pull the ring off to throw the incandescent object away from me.
But two things stopped me.
The first was that the ring was actually a perfect fit. So much so, that it seemed a lot harder to pull it off, than it was to slide it on.
The second was that the sensation of heat was gone immediately, it was probably just some nerve ends not being used to being touched, or something.
Wiggling my fingers around, I found I liked the unusual weight of the heavy ring, and wearing it felt comforting somehow. Like some part of my dad was still with me.
I was about to go back to work, when I noticed my mom was spending a bit too much time in a position that didn't seem like any yoga pose I knew.
She seemed to have face-planted on her yoga-mat, and seemed to have trouble getting up.
My immediate worry of her having keeled over dead just like dad, was alleviated by her feeble attempts at getting up, but I rushed to her aid just the same.
Rushing into the garden, I easily picked her up, carrying her inside despite her weak protests.
She felt light as a feather in my arms, and even if she is probably not much more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, I would normally have felt the strain of carrying her, but I guess my sudden boost of adrenaline at seeing her like that gave me strength.
"Ryan I am fine..." She insisted weakly, as I brought her a glass of water.
"I don't know what came over me, I just felt so hot all of a sudden, then I ca... uh... blacked out. Next thing you picked me up and carried me in here. I didn't realize you had gotten so big and strong!"
She did seem a bit woozy, even if she said she was fine. She had this slightly dazed look in her eyes, and she kept biting her lip and rubbing her thighs together unconsciously, so I stayed with her until she had emptied the glass of water I brought her, and promised me she would take it easy for the rest of the day.
With her assurances that everything was just fine, I went back to dad's office to get things sorted.
A few minutes later, mom had apparently decided that working on her tan would be the best way to take it easy, so wearing only a tiny bikini that she usually only wore when she wanted dad to buy her something expensive, she lay down on her yoga mat and let the sun do its work.
It felt slightly awkward to have my almost naked mom in full view, less than ten feet away, but I guessed she was just so used to it being her spot, that she didn't even consider her son was sitting here on the other side of a pane of glass. The windows were made out of really expensive one way glass that was soundproof and had all sorts of anti-snooping features, ensuring my dad's business secrets could not be learned by some drone enthusiast.
So I guess my mom just didn't even consider it was now me in the office, and not her beloved late husband.
She was a bit of a scatter-brain at the best of times, so I tried to pay it no mind at first.
I will admit I did take a few minutes to admire the view when she applied sunscreen all over her body with slow sensuous movements, getting into every nook and cranny, even loosening her bikini top to spread sunscreen on her generous c-cups, even though frustratingly enough, she didn't remove the top, just reaching under it to massage the sunscreen into her soft vulnerable skin. Then she readjusted the top, and started on her long tan legs. Although my mom is not very tall, she has pretty long legs for a woman her size, and with her fit body, she looks a lot like that vampire slayer chick from tv, but with larger breasts.
It says something about how eager I was for distractions from my emotionally draining task, that I would stand around ogling my mom, comparing her to movie stars, and even letting my eyes linger far too long, when she rubbed the sunscreen into her firm thighs. As she slid her hands under her bikini bottom to run sunscreen into her private bits, I was completely transfixed.
I mean, I know the skin of the private bits is pretty vulnerable to sunlight, but I had never considered that it might be prudent to apply sunscreen to it, even when it was covered by the admittedly tiny amounts of fabric that made up mom's bikini.
She spent a good long minute rubbing the sunscreen into her mound and crack, making everything glisten invitingly in the sun.
Finally she adjusted the bikini bottom slightly, moving it to get it just right, which meant I got a view straight at her now very prominent camel toe.
Adjusting my pants, I felt a pang of guilt, that I stood there, breathing heavily on the glass, sporting a rock solid hard-on for my mom.
My dad wasn't even in the ground yet, and here I was, almost creaming my pants, just because my admittedly very sexy mom kept adjusting her hips, looking for just the right position to really relax and tan.
I took a few minutes more to admire the way her muscles moved under her soft skin, whenever she shifted her weight on the yoga mat.
Then, mustering my willpower, I managed to get on task, and finally got some work done.
I was making good time, when I came across a piece of paper that seemed to be covered in my dad's handwriting, though it seemed pretty shaky.
It was from the day he passed away, apparently written in the ER. It stated that all his personal belongings were to be given to me, his heir, but that I was under no circumstances to put on the ring, before I had ready his personal journal, that I was to receive from his lawyer as part of my inheritance.
Oops.
