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The greater part of that night I spent tossing and turning in my bed. The myriad thoughts bouncing around in my brain never allowed me to sink into a deep sleep. Not in a million years could I have imagined what had taken place the day before with my mother. At turns I was racked with guilt and then quite pleased with the image of her writhing on the dining room table in ecstasy. I wondered how this was going to alter our relationship and if we could ever be able to look at each other the same way ever again.
I finally managed to grab a few hours of uninterrupted sleep shortly before waking up. My mind was still foggy from the wine the night before. I had evidently kicked off my bedspread during my nocturnal thrashing about, so only a sheet remained to cover me. The morning light was breaking through a small opening in the curtains, directing a bright beam of sunlight on my bed. The warmth of the sun went through the sheet and onto my naked body.
Lazing about in bed was not something I could indulge myself in at camp. As a counselor, I was up at sunrise rousting the campers out of their bunks and into the mess hall. As I lay there that morning, I enjoyed the simple pleasure of doing nothing. As I rolled onto my back, the ray of son fell across my crotch, sending a gratifying sensation to my cock and balls. I thought again about my mom on the raft, and how her lips looked wrapped around my dick...how they rolled under on her down stroke and how they hugged my shaft on the up stroke.
With thoughts like these, my morning wood became more like an iron pipe. Back in those days, my erections always pointed straight up. Age and gravity don't allow this for me anymore, but in 1978, I was as straight as they came. I admired the tent I was creating with my sheet and gave it a few bounces with my stiffy. My hands were behind my head, watching my handmade tent in the sun. I could make out the ridge of my cock head at the top of the big top and flexed my tip to expand it a bit.
I continued on in this way for a few minutes, enjoying myself and thinking about my mom while making myself ridiculously hard. Just then, I heard a noise in the hallway. I turned my head around and saw that my mom was standing in my doorway, leaning against the doorframe. My oxford shirt, looking a bit rumpled from sleep, hung from her shoulders completely unbuttoned. She had been there for a while evidently, and her right hand was fast at work on her clit as she rubbed it in circles. She made absolutely no effort to stop or cover herself up.
"Um..Mom. How long have you been standing there?" I asked, sitting up my pillows and drawing my knees up to my chest.
"I have been here for a just a few minutes, Greg. Long enough to see the show you were putting on, so I thought I would stop and admire you. Lay back down the way you were. I want to see that again." she said, as she walked slowly across my room to my bedside.
I lay back down, and my erection assumed its previous upright and locked position.
"Ah, that's nice, Greg!" she purred. "VERY nice. Now look. We have some unfinished business, you and me, and not a lot of time. Your dad will be home in 30 minutes."
