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A Towel Slip
Looking back, it is easy to conclude that even before that fateful day there had been a growing mutual undercurrent of attraction between me and my lovely mother. I can recall one particular incident a few months after my eighteenth birthday — I’d been moving about the kitchen fixing myself a snack while my mother was busy packing away groceries and other stuff she’d brought home earlier in the day. I first felt, then noticed, a couple of times that her eyes were following my movements. I turned around from the refrigerator suddenly, while my hand was still on the door, in the process of closing it, and caught her looking directly at me. She hadn’t time to look away, and her eyes which seemed lit with excitement, locked with mine for a few seconds. She smiled blushingly and said:
“You’re growing into such a fine-looking young man. I’m proud of you.”
I guess she must have felt that she had to state a reason for looking at me so deeply. She stepped forward and gave me a quick, tight hug followed by a kiss on the cheek. When her soft, bra-less bosom mashed against my chest I felt a surge of enjoyable comfort that begged to be indulged, and my hands returned the firm embrace. She patted my back, then broke the closeness, smiled sweetly and walked out of the kitchen.
My eyes followed her disappearing body in the short, close fitting, light-blue shift which hugged her bouncing, fleshy ass. The shift was short enough to reveal a good portion of smooth, rounded, slim-thick thigh backs. The mid-brown flesh glowed seductively, and I felt myself thinking that my mommy was, just as she described me, fine looking. It also occurred to me at that moment that it was not the first time I’d entertained that thought, and that I had been guilty, of late, of looking her over admiringly while she moved about, though, unlike what she’d just done, I was much too shy to let her know of my admiration.
From that day onwards, the way we looked at each other with appreciative, yet guarded eyes is evidence that we subconsciously, sensed the deeper attraction rearing its head, and felt we needed to keep it in check..
As I moved into the adult world of work, my natural shyness faded away, and I suddenly found myself gradually, but without inappropriate intent, letting my admiration of mommy’s body known by way of subtly complimenting how she looked and dressed. She responded in a likewise manner, generously and with increasing frequency, praising the way I looked when I dressed up to go out, and often commenting on my nicely developing athletic body.
My one year older sister got married at twenty because of pregnancy — just like mom had — and moved away. This was followed a year later by the departure of our dad who had been secretly raising a parallel family. As time went by, the mutual admiration between me and my mommy had grown — without either of us being fully conscious, I think — into a simmering, but controlled sexual awareness and longing. We both knew it was there but carefully treated it as harmless affection. I remember an occasion when I was going out on a date, mom had referred to me jokingly as looking very sexy, and not long after that I had returned the very compliment after she had gotten dressed up for an office Christmas party. She had blushed deeply and stared into my eyes for an extended period, before wrenching her head to the side and turning away with a shy and embarrassed smile.
It was Saturday, and I awoke to a bright, sun-lit room. Startled by a thought, I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was saying fifteen minutes after midday. I had a class at one. The night before mom and I had gone to the airport to meet an incoming aunt and uncle and then take them to their home in the countryside. The flight had been delayed, and we didn’t return home until six AM.
I threw my feet off the bed and saw that I had a massive erection. I got up, grabbed a bath towel and held it around me, not bothering to draw it tight and tuck the edge in. I opened the door and rushed out — right into the path of my mother. Startled, she jumped back. The towel she was wrapped in fell away to the floor, leaving her stark naked. Equally startled and shocked by the meaty delight before my eyes, I also jumped back, in the effort, releasing the towel I had been holding. We stood there, mother and son naked, wide eyed and open mouthed, staring at each other’s body. I was looking from boobs to belly to shaved vulva and thick thighs and back up again in the reverse. She was looking, alternatingly, at only two places, my face and my engorged manhood. Finally, our eyes locked. Mom was the first to speak.
“Well, I’ve heard of and seen morning wood … what is this, midday wood? She said, standing hands akimbo and cracking up with laughter.
It was only in retrospect, later in the day, that it dawned on me that neither of us had seemed particularly interested in retrieving our towels or using our hands to cover up. It was as if we both wanted our nakedness illegal bahis to be on display for the other’s eyes. I joined in the laughter, still staring from one juicy piece of meat to the other, my cock, caught in the state it was, reacted by bouncing in applause of the added stimulation thrust at it. Mom also, was still looking, with amazed eyes at my sizeable tool.
At forty-three, mom’s slim-thick body, more thick than thin if you had to settle on one or the other, was in fine shape. Her mid-brown skin was smooth and still had a lot of youthful glow. Her crotch was a sight to behold, a prime example of neatness. Her vulva was neatly shaved. The vulva itself was neatly shaped, a sizable triangular lump with no overhanging lips, just a thin slit. The mons veneris was also a smooth and shapely elevation. As if that were not enough to hold attention, the pussy itself provided added mystery and beauty, by being extremely darker than its surrounding. It was almost black! An enticing contrast. Shit how I wished that weren’t my mom standing there. How I would have liked to attack that fine pussy with my hard cock. Her full, C-cup, naturally round and firm breasts were standing high on her chest, with nipples that appeared slightly excited. Again, it was she who spoke first.
“Boy, stop staring and get your mother her towel … gosh, you’d think this was the first time you were looking at a naked woman,” she said, stressing on the word mother.
At twenty-two, I was well educated, eloquent and as I mentioned before, no longer shy. Add to that I had a reputation for saying the darndest things with a straight face. I’d often been accused of thriving on shock value. So, it was no problem for me to casually say:
“It’s the first time I’m looking at nakedness like yours … what I’m looking at is beyond amazing. This is the stuff of dreams … parts like yours don’t come a dime a dozen … far from it … just give me a moment to lock it into my memory, Trudy,” I said.
“Lock it into your memory for what, baby, you plan on using images of your mother to jerk off?” she said, holding her hands up to her mouth and laughing.
Living in our grandparents home until our early teens, me and my sister grew up calling our mother Trudy and our grandmother mommy, because that is what we heard all around us.
“Thanks for the compliments, but would you for heaven’s sake, stop staring at your mother’s privates and hand me my towel … what, you want to see me bend over while naked … that how you get your kicks?” She said, again laughing.
I picked up the towel and handed it to her.
“I was coming to tell you that we don’t have much time. You better get moving or you’ll be late for your class,” she said as she took the towel.
She threw the towel over her shoulder and strolled past me on the way to her room. I looked back at the bouncing mommy derriere and felt my cock lurch. She looked back and caught me looking.
“Staring is not nice,” she said, and smiled.
Half an hour later we were in her car. It was a regular thing, Trudy would drop me off to the institution where I lectured part time and then go do her shopping or her hair or whatever else was there to be done, then two to three hours later pick me up and take me back home if I didn’t have somewhere else to go. I was only out of university six months and hadn’t been working long enough or earning enough yet to buy my own car, so Trudy would sometimes take me about or lend me her car.
She was wearing a short denim skirt, which because of her sitting position just barely covered her crotch. If it rode up any more I was sure to get a direct view of that, so I kept checking, enthralled by the memory of the dark mystery between those smooth juicy thighs.
“Boy, would you keep your eyes on the road before you cause an accident,” she said.
“Trudy, I’m not the one driving,” I replied, amused.
“I know … damn … see how you’ve got me talking shit … anyhow your staring is making the driver uncomfortable, so it amounts to the same thing.”
“Sorry but that vision of loveliness is still in my mind … I can’t help it.” I said with a fake sad face.
“Well, get it off your mind … it’s not supposed to be on your mind … I’m your mother, remember? … and continuing to stare at me won’t turn up anything new … you’ve seen it all,” She said, giving me a quick glance with a concerned look, as if thinking her words had been too admonishing.
Then as if to soften up things, so I didn’t feel bad or guilty, she added:
“Don’t get me wrong, I am flattered by the attention, I’ll admit, but really, between my legs is not the direction in which you should be looking.”
She laughed out, then turned to me and gave me the sweetest smile and patted my knee.
“Don’t worry darling, you’ll get over it.” She said.
The reason Trudy and I could have accepted the towel slip incident and its intimate revelations so casually and be able to talk and joke about it illegal bahis siteleri without any embarrassment or fear, was because of the status of our relationship. We were more than just mother and son; over the years, especially recently, following my sister and father’s departure, we had managed to become like best buddies. We talked frankly and fearlessly about anything. We exchanged jokes, even raunchy jokes and we teased or challenged each other regularly, without fear of reprisals.
Just before nightfall my intended date for that evening called in sick. Strangely, I was happy about that and not in the least bit disappointed that I wouldn’t be hitting that pussy later in the night as I’d planned. I was still sleepy and still a bit dazed from the sight of Trudy’s goodies, so I saw the called-off date as a blessing in disguise. Contrary to what Trudy had said, I didn’t think that I was going to get over it, at least not in a hurry. Trudy joined me in front of the TV. She sat in her usual chair, the three-seater sofa, she liked to sit there so she could just slide into a lying position when she felt like, which was often. I was in my recliner/rocker nor far away from her chair.
She had on a short floral wrap and when she sat and brought one leg up and tucked it under her, the wrap split and the upper front dropped away to reveal more than half of a breast along one side. The areola and part nipple was visible. The bottom also came apart, letting me see a generous expanse of thigh and some belly. I’d seen her in it before with similar moderate slips, and never thought much about the display, but with her nakedness fresh in my mind I saw it I in a different light and couldn’t stop taking furtive glances. When she got up to get something, my eyes would follow her going and coming. She caught me a few times and once, rolled her eyes and sighed, but most times she simply gave me an understanding smile.
The next day she wore a cute, yellow, figure hugging romper about the house. I’d never seen it before and remarked on it.
“I bought this yesterday, one of two rompers. You’ll probably see the next one tomorrow. That is, if I don’t have a change of young heart … as a matter of fact I bought a bunch of stuff … your damn staring and flattery had me feeling like I was some young hottie, so I convinced myself that I needed a wardrobe change of the things I wear about the house, especially now with this extended hot season we’re in,” she said with a smile.
True to her word, when she came home from work the next afternoon, she put on the other romper, a light blue teaser. If the one from the previous day was figure hugging, this one left nothing to the imagination. It had no shoulder straps. The top started jut above her breast, looking like it was painted on, and the bottom displayed a camel toe that was simply mouthwatering. I gave a whistle and got a mock stern look in return.
“I think I’ll retire to my room and remain there for the rest of the evening … before you eat me up with your eyes,” she said, jovially.
“Spoil sport,” I said, showing a pouting lip.
She didn’t retire to her room, and I enjoyed every glance and every minute of looking at her. But by the time I went to bed, my head was a mess, from trying to process and come to grips with all that had happened over the last three days, including the changes in the way I saw my mother and the accompanying feelings. With just the tiniest feeling of guilt I grabbed my hard cock, pictured Trudy’s bald pussy, her round tits, fleshy backside and pouty, built-for-sucking lips and I jerked my cock violently, rocking the bed audibly until I came with a subdued howl. Just before I came my mind allowed me the privileged fantasy of sinking my cock into Trudy’s pussy … from the back.
The next afternoon, I went into the guest room downstairs that had been converted into a workout room. Trudy passed by on her way from the kitchen just as I entered the room. She smiled at me and walked on. A couple of minutes later as I was about to start my weight training I looked up at the clock on the wall to make a note of the time. It was saying two PM, which was two hours ago. The batteries were obviously going dead. I decided to go get my phone to do my timing with. Passing Trudy’s room, I noticed that the door was wide open. I looked in and was stopped in my tracks. Trudy was standing in front of her dresser, fixing her hair. She was wearing only panties — V-cut bright blue panties with pink trimmings.
She must have seen me in the mirror, for she spun around and looked at me. Turning fully around and placing her hands in her habitual akimbo stance, legs slightly parted, she said:
“Oh my god, there’s a stalker in the house … didn’t I just leave you in the workout room?” She exclaimed, with amazed humor in her voice.
“Yes, I came up to get my phone to time my exercises.”
“There’s a clock in the room,” she said, looking like she didn’t believe my story.
“It’s stopped, batteries canlı bahis siteleri dead maybe.” I said.
“Oh, ok then … I guess when it rains it pours, eh … You’ve been getting quite an eyeful these last few days.”
“I’m not complaining,” I said, and laughed.
“You wouldn’t, you naughty boy.”
I was unabashedly looking her over, enjoying the sight of the lump of flesh between her thighs, held crease-revealingly close by the V-shaped blue and pink lace.
“Well?” I heard Trudy ask, interrupting my sensual inspection.
“Well, what?” I answered.
“Weren’t you going to get your phone?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry, I lost track for a moment,” I said.
“You certainly did …Pull in that door and go get your phone … Boy, you do love to stare, eh, geez!”
When I was finished working out, I went into the kitchen and was met by the sight of Trudy wearing extra-short, grey, stretch shorts. Whether I was looking at her from back or front I saw soft material slipped into clefts.
“You’d better not do much walking tonight, Trudy, or that shorts will gradually disappear into cracks and will be hard to get dug out,” I said, smirking.
“No problem, I’ll just have to find a good miner with an excavator to dig it up,” she replied quickly.
By the next day, Wednesday I realized that I was no longer trying to process what was going on in our home, I had simply surrendered myself to the enjoyment of the sexually charged atmosphere, the stimulating sight of Trudy scantily dressed and the witty and suggestive back and forth talk. I hadn’t gone out anywhere, other than work, since Saturday, my home and my mother provided all the entertainment I needed. That night I was sitting in my TV chair when Trudy came into the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She was wearing a short robe. She poured wine into the glasses and handed one to me.
“Let’s make a toast,” she said.
“To what?” I asked.
“To my new-found freedom; the freedom of no longer having to endure the discomfort of having to be covered up for the sake of decency when the house is as damn hot as it’s been the last couple of months. You’ve seen all there is to see, there’s nothing for me to hide anymore, so I’m going to be indecently comfortable in my home … here’s to indecent Trudy.”
She slipped out of the robe and revealed a sheer, light blue babydoll nightie that left most of her ass and crotch exposed. The matching panties allowed viewing of everything that could possibly be seen through thin fabric.
“I’ll drink to that … oh yeah,” I said laughing.
We watched a movie, finished off the bottle of wine and went to our separate rooms.
Friday night came around; I turned down pussy, a party and a cricket game to stay at home. I was first in the living room. Trudy came in shortly afterwards sporting a sheer, black, open-front babydoll nightie and black glittery thong.
“Wow, you look good Trudy … as in sexy,” I said.
“Thank you, young man,” she said, smiling.
I got up and went to the kitchen. I returned with wine and two glasses. I filled the glasses and handed my sweet, sexy mother one.
“Tonight, we’re drinking to my freedom; I get hot too, and need to shed clothes,” I declared.
I lifted my t shirt over my head and got out of the pajama bottoms I was wearing, and stood there in tiny bikini briefs, that barely held my half erect cock.
“To my freedom,” I said, and raised the glass.
When I lowered my glass, I noticed that mom hadn’t touched her wine.
“Aren’t you going to drink to my freedom, Trudy?”
“I certainly will, but in my way … come over here, young man.”
I stepped forward and stood over her, inches away. She reached out and pulled down the waist of my briefs, freeing the partly erect cock. She took it in her hand, stuck it into the wine glass, then took it out dripping wine. She stuck it into her mouth, and began giving me the most passionate blowjob, I’d ever experienced. Her lips, tongue and teeth worked ardently on my cock and big balls, almost bringing me to an unwanted explosion. But she knew just when to stop. She stood up, turned off the TV and turned on the music system. She stood about six feet in front of me and began dancing, doing a slow, sensual, seductive wine as only a West Indian black woman could.
My mouth watered and my cock dripped pre-cum as my mother entertained me. She bent right over and looked back at me from between her smooth, fleshy and shapely legs. I couldn’t decide which was the most seductive, her smiling lips or the fat, glittering, pussy bump. She straightened up and began slithering out of the nightie, then, backing me wined her way out of the thong. Once again she bent over and looked at me from between her thighs. She straightened up and walking backwards came to within a foot of where I was sitting.
“Take off those briefs, Edwin, and slide forward a bit.” She commanded
I hastily obeyed her bidding, and she threw one of her legs to each side of me. Bending over slightly, she placed her hands behind and spread the neat lips of her puffy pussy.
“Place that cock where it belongs so mommy can get a good ride, baby,” I heard her whisper.
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