Note: I had originally intended to post this story with illustrations. Unfortunately because of the size of the file and as a result of the difficulty in getting an illustrated story posted I am submitting this story without the illustrations. For those that would like the illustrated version you may E-mail me and I will send it to you.
It was a sunny and warm May afternoon as I sat staring out the window, trapped in my senior chemistry class with little hope of sneaking out early. Only one week of school remaining and then I'll be free. Graduation! I've looked forward to this day for ... well since I can remember, and it's almost here. I just have to get through finals, and while I am a pretty good student, it has been difficult, if not impossible of late keeping my mind on studies. It seems I am daydreaming more and more. Mostly dreaming about how I am going to spend my last summer before I head off to college. But I'm also thinking about my mom. I wonder how she is going to get along without me. I've been the man of the house since my dad left almost five years ago and now I will be leaving her too. The thought is so depressing that it has nearly ruined my excitement over the end of twelve long years of school.
Sure, Mom says she'll be fine. She always says that. But I know how much she depends on me. Although she is still young at 37 (I was born when she was 19) and, if I say so myself "hot", she doesn't date or have a man around, other than me, to fix things and take care of the car and such. Keeping the house running is my job and I don't mind the responsibility. In fact, I love it. She and I have a very special relationship and are very close—we are more like friends than mother and son. We have leaned on each other exclusively over the past few years; through my adolescence crises and her more important adult concerns ... like how we were going to pay the bills.
When Dad ran off with his secretary, he left us nothing, and even worse, Mom was emotionally crushed and for a long time I hated him for that. He burst my bubble of a happy family and hurt my mom terribly. But I don't hate him anymore. His leaving is the reason my mother and I grew so close. Since he's been gone, I've made sure she didn't miss him. At least in all the ways a young boy can act as the man of the house. I learned to fix things, helped with finances by getting a part time job to pay for clothes and minor school expenses, and just being there when she needed someone's shoulder to cry on. And she did plenty of that. I have a couple of shirts on which she shed her tears and, although I should throw them out, they are still in my closet as a reminder that I never want to hurt her like that. Oh, and yes I'm just a little embarrassed to say that I also have a couple pair of her panties hidden in my dresser that I stole from the hamper.
As I said, my mother is hot, and if you haven't guessed already, I have a major crush on her. She is gorgeous and not just because I say so. All of my buddies say she is by far the hottest and coolest mom of any they know. She's about five-six with large round eyes that change from an aqua blue to sky blue depending on the outfit she is wearing, and they twinkle like stars. She keeps her dyed red hair at shoulder length and curled under stylishly. Her figure is perfect, but I will tell you more about that in a moment. At 37 she easily passes for her late 20's. Some say we could pass for brother and sister; and of course she loves it when I tell her that.
On her 37th birthday I surprised her with a birthstone ring and necklace. She had no idea that I was getting her anything, but I had saved up my extra spending money—seven hundred dollars—and spent it all. I know she liked the necklace and ring because she said so when we saw it at a jewelry store at the mall one afternoon. I worked hard to save up the money and purchasing the ring and necklace was probably the most exciting moment of my life up to that time. I had it specially wrapped at the store in pretty paper with a red bow.
When I gave it too her she began to cry. For a moment I thought I had made a big mistake. But her tears were tears of joy. She said I shouldn't have spent so much money but she loved it and loved me. That statement alone made it all worth it. She said she was going to wear the ring always. I was surprised when she put it on her left ring finger where she used to wear a wedding band. That was special to me as well.
I guess it is time to admit that I have been fantasizing about my mom a lot lately. Recently I actually got the nerve to spy on her. I had resisted the incredible sexual hormones raging in me until I accidentally saw her undressing in her bedroom. I went to her room to ask if she needed anything before I went to bed. Her door was opened just a crack. Before I could knock, I saw her standing near her vanity. I had seen her in her nightgowns and such and she had seen me in my underwear plenty of times, but this was the first time I had seen her totally naked. I still have the image of her slim waist and tapered hips with the smooth perfect white skin of her ass burned into my memory bank. I don't think I have ever seen a more perfect ass.
When she bent over to pick up her panties my heart almost jumped out of my chest when I realized that I could see the lips of her pussy between her slightly spread thighs. And, incredibly, she didn't have a speck of pubic hair, none—baby smooth. The inner lips were pale pink and hung between the smooth shaven outer lips like the delicate petals of a rose ... a gorgeous pink rose with the petals shimmering with morning dew. The outer lips were puffy flesh colored mounds and seemed to strain to contain her longer inner lips.
I watched with mounting guilt and excitement as she sat down and began to sensuously rub cream on her large but still firm breasts. She rubbed the cream over the upper portion of her breasts and then moved down, pausing to work it into the impossibly hard nipples until they were shiny and slick.
Then she poured more onto her hands and placed the palms under the two large orbs and lifted and kneaded the flesh. I thought I heard a sigh of pleasure, but it might have come from my own lips.
I stood transfixed, my eyes as wide as saucers as I watched her. This might sound naive coming from an eighteen year old boy, but it was at that moment that I knew that I loved my mother; but not like a son. I also realized that no woman would ever entirely take her place in my heart. I know some would say it is just adolescent fantasy, or more specifically sexual fantasy, and that a lot of kids fantasize about their mothers or their high school teacher etc., but that wasn't me. I never had a crush on a teacher, or any other older woman for that matter.
I remember how excited I was that day; so excited that I had to take my swollen cock out of my pants or risk cumming in my underwear. I fought hard not to climax, not only because I felt guilty, but also because I wanted the chills of excitement running through me to last. I wanted to watch her forever. When she stood up and stretched her arms over her head, I couldn't hold out any longer.
My cum hit the door so hard that I swore she heard the splat. My knees almost buckled as I fought to remain conscious. Of all the times I had masturbated in my life, and there have been plenty, this was by far the best one. It left me feeling drained and dizzy. When I opened my eyes I saw my mother sitting on her stool again, looking into the mirror with an odd smile on her face. I was petrified that she had seen me, so I scurried away like a roach in the kitchen when the lights come on.
I felt very guilty for a long time about that night, but not guilty enough not to do it again and again. From that point on, I took every opportunity to spy on my mother. I took big risks too. I put a small strip of rubber on the frame of the bathroom and bedroom doors so that they wouldn't shut all the way. She asked me many times to fix them, but somehow I never got around it. Then, almost every night I would slip down the dark hallway to watch as she undresses for her bath or sits at her vanity to perform her nightly ritual before she goes to bed. Sometimes, if I am very lucky, I see her doing naughty things, on the bed or in the bathtub. At that point I lose control and I stoke my cock with a pair of her panties until I climax.
Did I say what gorgeous breasts she has? I know I would never grow tired of looking at those beautiful tits. Even when she is dressed I often find myself staring at them ... so round and soft with a sexy giggle as she moves. Sometimes she catches me looking, but she never seems angry. More recently, when she sees me staring, she just shakes her head and smiles like she did when I was a little boy and got caught raiding the cookie jar.
"Jerry Moss, can you finish the formula on the board for the rest of the class?"
I was suddenly awakened from my daydream. "I ... uh ... I uh ..."
The teacher stared at me and waited. The rest of the class broke out in gales of laughter. My face turned three shades of red. "I wasn't paying attention," I admitted.
"Well, at least you admit it. You had better listen up because this is going to be on the final," Mr. Henson pointed out. "And that goes for the rest of you seniors." To my great relief, that brought the still snickering students back around and took the focus off me.
After the final bell, I walked outside to feel the warmth of the late-spring sun on my face. There was a gentle breeze and several passing puffy white clouds cast a brief shadow across the sidewalk ... spring fever had me tightly in its grip. As I walked unhurriedly down the sidewalk I looked up. A wide smile came to my face when I saw my mother waiting at the curb for me. She was driving my old door-less and topless Jeep that she had helped me purchase for my eighteenth birthday. I had eyed that vehicle at old Mr. Jenkins used car lot for quite some time. It had sat there for months as I tried to save the two thousand dollars to buy it before someone else did. However, the present to my mom for her birthday had totally depleted my funds. When she said she would help me purchase it, I was so incredibly excited. I put in a lot of extra hours at the pizza joint, but without her help I could never have afforded it. Now I am the envy of all my friends. When I don't take the Jeep to school—due to a shortage of gas money, Mom will drive it and thankfully fill the tank. She says driving the Jeep makes her feel young. Her car is a ten-year-old minivan she got before my dad left. Some days, like today, she comes to pick me up from school when she has a day off or can get off early from work.
I never mind my mom showing up at school like some kids do. Most of them would be horrified if their parents came to school for any reason. Not me. I love for my friends to see my mom. I am so proud of her. Not only is she gorgeous, but she's smart too. When I was young she earned her teaching credentials and taught school for almost ten years. But Dad wanted her to be a "stay at home mom", so she quit. I think she misses teaching a lot. Then when Dad left, she applied for a teaching job, but due to budget cuts at the state level, none were available. To make ends meet, she took a job at a large marketing firm as a low level administrative assistant. After only a couple years she became a senior marketing executive. She says that she was just in the right place at the right time, but I know better. She earned everything she has gotten.
My mom has worked hard for her success, but she says dressing professionally, and just a little sexy, is important too. She does both in a stylish way. Under her business suits she wears pretty blouses with lace and frills and not the man-ish shirts that some businesswomen chose to wear. Some of Mom's tops are cut low in front, exposing just a hint of her cleavage under the lace fringe. She said she wears those when she needs to make a good impression on some of her male clients. I know it works on me.
And now here she was waiting at the curb for me. I waved to a couple of my guy friends, who happened to be staring at my mother, and rushed over and hopped into the passenger side of the Jeep.
"How was school?" she asked.
"Boring," I replied as I leaned over and kissed her on the lips. I like kissing her on the lips. Her lips are always moist and she has started wearing lipstick with subtle flavors. Actually that's how we first started kissing on the lips. She told me one day that she was wearing a new lipstick with flavor. I surprised her by kissing her on the lips to taste it. From then on we have always kissed on the lips, and when she has that lipstick on it is a game for me to guess the flavor. I guessed Strawberry today.
"Nope," she said just a tad flustered it seemed.
"Let me try again." Before she could protest I leaned close and kissed her a second time, letting my lips linger on hers for a moment longer then the first time.
She pulled away and said, "Jerry, not here. Your friends might see."
"I don't care if they do."
"I do," she said firmly, but I could see a twinkle in her eye.
"All right, but you have to let me try again when we get home."
She didn't answer, but instead changed the subject. "There's only another week of school left. Are you ready for your finals?"
"Yeah, I know this stuff. Besides, I could flunk the final in almost every class and still get a 'B'."
"Well, don't do anything that would jeopardize the scholarship."
"You know I wouldn't do that."
She looked thoughtful and as if she didn't hear me said, "I could probably scrape up enough to get you through for a couple of years, but I'd rather use that money for other things."
"Like that nice vacation you promised me if I got the scholarship?" I said, as if I needed to remind her.
"That's already set up and mostly paid for."
My ears perked up. "Paid for? Where are we going?"
"That's a surprise."
"Ah, Mom, come on, you can't leave me hanging like this."
"Sorry, after finals."
"Damn," I said, but smiled. She smiled back and my heart fluttered.
I had been so excited to see her there to give me a ride home that I hadn't noticed what she was wearing. It was a warm day so she had on a pair of white short shorts that left most of her thighs uncovered. On top was a tight jersey that hugged her breasts like a second skin. She did have on a bra, but it was one of those natural ones that gave only a tad of support ... she didn't need any more than that. I could see her hard nipples poking through. I wondered if the kiss had caused that. It certainly wasn't because the weather was cold. I was pretty sure she wouldn't have worn that outfit if she had to get out of the car for any reason. She apologized for her outfit and said she was working around the house and had been running late so she didn't have time to change. I didn't mind at all.
She saw me staring at her hardened nipples and blushed before starting the Jeep and quickly pulling away from the curb.
It was Friday and we typically rented a video and ordered pizza in. She had taken the day off and spent it lying in the warm sun adding to her already nice tan. She had been visiting a tanning salon for a few weeks so I figured our vacation was going to be somewhere with a beach and lots of sun. That was fine with me. We both like the sailing, skin diving, and snorkeling.
"What are we going to rent tonight?" she asked.
"We had a chick flick last week. I want something that has lots of shooting and things blowing up," I replied with a laugh.
Mom sighed. "Okay, but not another Bruce Willis thing."
"You know you love those movies," I joked.
"Well, the last one where he jumped off the bridge onto the wing of the jet fighter was a little over the top."
"You mean people don't do that?" I said facetiously.
"Not normal people."
"Okay, I'll get something that's not too violent. I'll give you one of my famous foot massages while we watch," I offered.
"Mmmm," she said. "It's been too long since you last gave me a foot massage."
We stopped at Blockbuster and I picked up "The Bourne Supremacy." A little less violent then the Bruce Willis movies, I figured. I had seen it at the theater a few months earlier.
When we arrived home and walked into the house, I stopped my mother by grabbing her arm. She turned and looked at me with surprise. "Lipstick," I said. She had forgotten. I hadn't.
I leaned forward and touched my lips to hers. I was close enough that I could feel her soft breasts touch my chest. My heart began to pound as I tried to hold my breathing steady. Her lips were opened just a bit. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but in that time I moved my lips across hers, under the pretext of making sure I got a good taste of her lipstick. When I pulled back, I was almost trembling. When I looked at my mom, I saw that her eyes were closed. Her lips were open and I could see that she was breathing more rapidly. Her nipples were hard again. I suddenly wondered if my mother was feeling the same stirrings that I had been feeling for so long. That was too much to ask, I thought.
"Raspberry," I whispered, almost breathlessly.
Mom opened her eyes as if she had forgotten what we were doing. Her face flushed as a pink blush came to her cheeks. She looked confused for a moment. "Uh ... uh ... nope, not raspberry."
"I guess I'll have to try again later," I said. I figured it would be going to far if I tried to kiss her again, as much as I wanted to at that moment.
"Uh ... yes," she said, still a little flustered. "I have some things to do now."
"I'll order the pizza at 6 and we'll watch the movie at seven," I said.
"Okay," she returned, taking a deep breath before turning and heading upstairs.
We busied ourselves around the house for the next couple of hours. A while later I saw my mom pass my room on her way to take her bath. I waited a few minutes and then crept down the hall. I peeked into the bathroom from the darken hallway just in time to see her bend over to step into the steaming tub. I hadn't seen her for a week or so and I was surprised to see how tanned she was. In fact, she was tanned all over. There were no bathing suit marks either upper or lower. I watched as she sat in the tub and washed, but I didn't pull my cock out of my pants. I wanted to wait. Our Friday nights together were always fodder for my masturbatory fantasies. While nothing sexual had happened in the past, we typically sat close together and I would often put my arm over her shoulder and let her lean into me. That was enough to make me excited. We always kept the lights off, which gave me the protection to hide my seemingly ever-present erection.
I broke away from watching my mother when I saw her look toward the door. I went to my room and took my shower and loaded the movie into the DVD player downstairs. The pizza was steaming and sitting on the coffee table, along with a bottle of chilled red wine, when my mother finally came down. She smiled when she saw the wine and two glasses. She usually let me have a couple glasses as long as I wasn't going out afterward. I never went out after our Friday night movie. I had no interest in going out with the boys or even a girlfriend when I could spend the evening with my mother.
I had on a pair of boxer shorts and no shirt. I often ran around in my underwear; after all they were almost like swim trunks anyway. Mom was wearing a robe and her hair was wet. I couldn't tell if she had anything on underneath the robe. My imagination ran wild with the possibility that she was naked.
"I had to wash my hair after being at the salon. It was all greasy. I need to dry it before we start watching the movie, okay?"