tagIncest/TabooTeaching Ch. 01

Teaching Ch. 01

bytarkatony©

The door was partly open so Tim poked his head inside and called, "Cara?"

"Is that you, Tim?" Cara's mother's voice came from the basement.

"Yes, Mrs. Johnson, is Cara home?"

"Can't hear you, come on down."

Tim walked through the kitchen and took the stairs he knew led to the family room. Susan Johnson was in the laundry room near the foot of the stairs. "Hi, Mrs. Johnson, is Cara home?"

Susan Johnson stood by the washer with a large bundle of laundry in her hands. "Oh, sorry, is that all you wanted, no, she's not, she just left for soccer practice."

"Oh, right." Tim knew that but had forgotten.

"But while you're here could you do me a favour? Would you get me a box of soap from that cupboard?" She indicated the cupboard with a nod.

Tim did as he was asked but couldn't find one.

"I'm sure I put it in there, here, hold this for a sec and I'll look." She handed Tim the clothes and, seeing Tim was right, found the soap in a shopping bag on the floor. When she returned to the washer she couldn't help but laugh. On top of the large pile of laundry, just inches from Tim's nose, was a pair of Cara's skimpy panties which, judging by his nylon track shorts, had inspired in the 19 year old a rather nifty erection. Still chuckling, she put the soap down and took the laundry from him, "That wasn't very nice of me, was it?"

Tim blushed and said nothing

"But then with three sisters they're hardly foreign to you."

"What?"

Mrs. Johnson smiled and flicked the panties from the washer and let them fall back in, "These. With three sisters seeing these is nothing new to you."

Timmy shook his head.

She could easily see Tim's discomfort and couldn't resist a little playful jibe, "I guess all men find them erotic, they're so flimsy and delicate. Is that it?" she said, with a mischievous smile?

"No."

Mrs. Johnson had been pouring the soap powder into the supplied cup but his response was so strangely adamant it caused her to quickly look at him, "No?"

"I wasn't looking at them."

She smiled and said, in an understanding voice with just a hint of mockery, "No, of course not, it was silly of me to suggest it."

There was a long silence before Timmy spoke again, "It was the other ones."

It took a few moments for his words to register, "The other ones?" She absently looked down at the clothes in the machine but the only other pair of panties she could see where a pair of her own, white, almost grey-white with age. She quickly stole a glance at the boy and when she looked away she surreptitiously cast her eyes down to see that his erection had become conspicuously more pronounced.

"I like the white ones." His words were barely audible and had a slight quiver.

The words shocked Sue Johnson, first because the panties they were talking about were her own and second, because they were talking about underwear at all. "But why?" The moment she blurted out the question she regretted it.

"They're yours."

"Yes," she agreed looking at him, but not understanding him.

"That's why."

"Because they're mine?" Susan Johnson was clearly confused and her voice was weak, as if she was uncertain of what he was talking about.

"You're very pretty, Mrs. Johnson."

The boy she was looking at, the boy she had known for many years, suddenly came into a new and entirely different focus. Pretty? Did he just call me pretty? And where we really talking about my underwear?

The boy must have realized what he said for he suddenly looked awkward and out of place, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," and he turned to leave but just before he got to the door he stopped and looked back at Susan Johnson, who hadn't moved since she last spoke, "But you are very pretty, Mrs. Johnson. I have always thought you are pretty." And then he was gone.

Susan Johnson remained still, as if uncertain what to do next. Had this 19 year old boy just called me pretty? Had this boy, the same age as her daughter, just had an erection from looking at my underwear? Is this possible? Her impulse was to laugh, but she didn't, instead she sat down on a nearby stool, slowly, as if dizzy. It was unsettling, disturbing.

Susan Johnson didn't think of herself as pretty, in fact, she didn't think of herself at all. Ever since her husband died she had considered herself only a mother and a widow, and the widow Johnson seemed a role she was born to play, or that's what her two sisters and brother thought. Nothing was expected of a widow. A widow only had a past and she knew, just as her brother and sisters knew, that if she didn't have Cara, Susan Johnson's life would be entirely without purpose, entirely without meaning.

As a widow she learned to see herself as she suspected all others saw her: lonely, bored and sexless. Pretty, that was the last thing she felt. How could anyone find me pretty? I'm not. My face is lined and old, not ancient, but old, certainly every day of my 39 years. And my body? Well, I don't look at it. I haven't looked at it for years. It just is. It's serviceable enough and, she knocked on the wooden leg of the stool, healthy but it's falling a bit and stretching and ..., she snorted contemptuously picturing the daily ritual of capturing her large, slightly sagging breast in her thin, worn bras and hiding herself in old and shapeless dresses. Pretty! She hadn't thought of herself as pretty for years. But she had been. She had been when Sam Johnson married her 20 years ago and she had been when she held her daughter Cara in her arms for the first time. And she had the pictures upstairs to prove it!

Cara Johnson bounded into the house with all the energy of youth. "That was really cool, mum." She gave her mother, who was standing at the stove, a quick peck on her cheek then grabbed an apple and sat at the kitchen table.

Susan Johnson looked over her shoulder, "What was really cool?"

"Tim told me."

Cara had her attention now. She turned around and leaned against the stove. "Tim told you what?" What would he have said?

"He told me that he thought you are pretty ... and he told me about his erection."

"His erection!"

"He said he got it from seeing your panties," then she laughed, "not from seeing mine, from seeing yours."

"He told you that?"

Cara nodded and laughed, "We talk about everything, we have for years. He's interested in what girls think and I'm interested in what boys think," then she added with a short laugh, "when they think."

"But erections?"

"Sure, why not? I want to know why men get them and he can tell me."

"Well believe me, they don't usually get them from looking at the underwear of aging women."

"Well he did and you didn't get mad at him and I think that's really cool." She took a bite from her apple, then said almost incoherently with a chunk of apple in her mouth, "You should be flattered."

"Did you say flattered?" Susan didn't think she heard her right.

Cara quickly chewed the bits of apple in her mouth, "Yes, flattered. Tim's a handsome, normal, intelligent ..."

"Boy!"

"Man, a normal stand-up, caring man, not a pervert, not a momma's boy, he's a really good guy and he's a really good friend. If he can get a hard on looking at your panties and if he will call you pretty, after all the efforts you take to look like a friggin' bag lady, well, then that means to me that some men find you pretty and sexy, and, to quote another pretty and sexy older woman, 'that is a good thing.'"

"Bag lady?" Susan repeated the words with a laugh, she thought the insult funny.

Cara shared her mother's laugh, "Bag lady! Look at you, you look just like a bag lady."

"But I haven't any bags," she said, still enjoying the image.

"No bags, but you've got the dress, you've got the hair, you've got the shoes — you've definitely got the look, mum, bags or no bags."

"Susan Johnson, bag lady," there was still amusement in her voice, she didn't seem to care about the insult.

Cara decided in an instant. She leapt to her feet and took her mother by the lapels of her collar and pulled on her dress as if trying to give shape to it, "Bag lady and it's high time we did something about it. This is the oughties, mum, it's time you got it together, it's time you got presentable, you need a make-over and I'm going to give it to you!" Cara reached over, turned off the stove element, then tugged at her mother's arm. "Come."

The amusement stayed in Sue Johnson's eyes, "Where are we going?"

"To your closet, to get rid of these," Cara reached over and grabbed her mother's dress near the neck and tugged at it, ripping the worn cotton to expose the top of a grey-white bra."

"Cara!"

"I don't care," Cara said, pulling at her mother's arm, "I don't ever want to see you in this or any of your other bag lady dresses again, I'm going to rip up every one of them. A new wardrobe! That will be my first step in your make over, the first of about 50."

"50?"

"You're a mess, mum, you're a real mess," Cara said, as they climbed the stairs. "Things are going to change around here and it starts now and it starts with this," as they entered her mother's bedroom, she reached back and tore a large piece from the ripped and shapeless dress.

"God, Cara, leave some, leave me some dignity." Susan was laughing nervously as she held her arms up to cover her bra.

But Cara wasn't. She pulled her mother's arms down then yanked at what remained of her dress, and as her mother stood in the middle of the room, in her worn grey-white bra and panties with the rags of a tattered, ugly dress pooled at her feet, her laughter dissipated to doubt.

Cara studied her mother, "Jesus, maybe Tim is a pervert. What can he possibly find exciting about those?"

Susan now had her hands clasped in front of her in a vain attempt to conceal herself, "The thought had occurred to me."

"Well," Cara said as she opened her mother's closet door, "if he can get a boner from those, I can't imagine what he's going to get from what I have in mind."

"Cara!" She laughed in spite of herself.

"What have you got here?"

"What are you looking for?"

"Something you can wear to the mall. We're going shopping."

Three hours later the two Johnson girls, mother and daughter, knowing that it was near closing time, were just about to leave the mall when Cara spotted the store she was looking for. "We've got five minutes."

Struggling with her bags, and feeling ever more like the bag lady she was accused of being, Sue Johnson followed her daughter almost into the store before realizing where they were going. "Cara, I'm not going in there."

Cara looked back at her mother, confused, "Why not?"

"I don't need what they sell."

"Oh yes, you do," Cara insisted.

"No I don't," and she turned and as she walked towards the exit, Cara went inside.

Cara Johnson put her bags on the kitchen table, found the scissors in the drawer, then walked upstairs to her mother's bedroom and put the bags she was carrying on her mother's bed, beside the others.

Cara looked at her mother, "Which one do you want?"

Sue Johnson was taking the boxes out of the bags. She looked up at her daughter, "Which one?"

"Which outfit do you want to try on first?"

"But I've already tried them on in the store," she protested. "I'll just put them away."

"No mum, I want you to try one on the outfit, the one you'll wear tomorrow. Put on the blue slacks and yellow blouse."

"Why? I can ..."

"Mum, I don't trust you," there was a fierceness in Cara's eyes, "put them on," then she walked to the closet, pulled out three dresses and sitting down on a nearby chair began cutting them up with the scissors.

"Cara ..."

"Mum!"

Sue Johnson could see her daughter was becoming irritated so she shrugged in resignation and found the bag with the slacks and blouse. "Can I just hold them up?"

Cara jumped to her feet and pulled a few other dresses off their hangers and began cutting them.

"OK, OK, give me a minute." She picked up the bag and was heading to the en suite bathroom when her daughter stuck out her leg to stop her.

"I'm not asking you to make yourself up, mum, we begin that step tomorrow, just change. Come on."

Feeling like a scolded child, Susan Johnson returned to the bed, removed the clothing from their packages, looked nervously at her daughter and then turning away took off her jeans and sweater and was just about to put on her new blue slacks when Cara stopped her, "Wait, just hold on a minute," and she popped up from her chair, raced from the room, down the stairs and was back within a minute. "Here, put these on," she said, throwing a tiny Victoria Secret's bag to her mother.

"Cara ..."

"Mum, God, you're like a child. I can't believe I was ever this sniveling. Just put them on, they won't hurt, honest."

Susan reached into the bag and held up the delicate red full cut panties for inspection. "At least they're ...," she searched for a word, "substantial."

Cara was watching her mother. "Now, yes, but they'll get smaller as I make you over. Put them on."

Sue turned away from her daughter, took off her grey-white underwear and slipped on the red nylon panties. When she stood up she quickly reached for her new slacks.

"Wait!" Cara had an idea. She again ran from the room and moments later returned, pulling a full-sized mirror on wheels. "This is one of the steps. I bet you haven't looked into this mirror since you stored it in my room years ago."

She hadn't but said nothing, instead, she began to pull on the slacks. But her daughter stopped her again. Without a word she took the slacks from her mother and took her by the arm and positioned her in front of the mirror. "Look at yourself, mum, look at yourself."

But she wouldn't. Susan Johnson just stood still, with her head down, as if ashamed.

"Come on, mum, look at yourself, see who you are. You're really pretty, just give yourself a chance."

But she wouldn't look up so Cara did the only thing she could think of. She quickly removed her own clothes, right down to her light blue underwear. When she looked in the mirror, she saw her own familiar reflection and she saw her mother staring at her.

"You're not alone, mum."

Susan looked away from her daughter. "I'm not a girl either, Cara."

"No, but you're a very pretty woman, with a very pretty body. Look at yourself, mum, I think you look great!" And she did look great, surprisingly great. Cara couldn't remember the last time she saw her mother's body. It always seemed to be wrapped in one of those awful dresses, never in shorts and halter, never in a bathing suite. No, her mother surprised her, Cara thought she looked rather good. Oh, she had a few pounds she could lose and she could certainly use a major tone-up but Cara thought her mother had a truly wonderful, sexy body, one that she would be more than happy with, with a few modification, once she turned 40. And she said so, then asked, "Did you look like me when you were my age?"

Susan hadn't really looked at her daughter's body, that was just a little too weird for her, but now she did, she took a quick peek before looking away. She recognized the figure, she knew it intimately, the thin, elegant neck, the wide, strong shoulders, the rounded breasts and narrow waist and the hips, Susan had always liked her hips, they used to be the favourite part of her body, and Cara had them. "Yes," she said, not looking at her daughter, "I had more or less the same bits and pieces."

Cara put her arm around her mother's shoulder and coaxed her to look into the mirror, "No, I'm serious, mum, I want to know if you had the same body as me, and I want to know if this," she put her hand on her mother's stomach, "is what I can expect to look like when I get to be your age."

Sue laughed sarcastically, "Uggh, perish the thought."

"Come on mum, geez, did you look like me when you were 20, or not? Did you have breasts like these," she hefted them with her hands, "legs like these," and turning, "an ass like this?"

"You look very familiar, Cara but then you should, it wasn't that long ago when you were sliding down my birth canal."

Cara stamped her foot in frustration then got behind her mother and when she gave her a hug she pressed her hand into her mother's surprisingly flat stomach, then she dropped her hand a little to feel the softness of her nylon panties. "You look wonderful, mum and in these you look really sexy." But when she noticed her mother wasn't looking she took her mother's head in her hands and forced her to look into the mirror. "Look at yourself, mum, you're beautiful. You have wonderful shoulders, elegant arms, a nice waist and beautiful legs. You're beautiful, mum, not just pretty, you're beautiful."

Sue looked away, "I am not, and you know it."

Cara moved quickly to stand beside her mother, "Then how about me? Am I beautiful?"

Sue look at her quickly, yes, yes you are, you're as beautiful as I was at your age, but bodies like yours turn into bodies like mine, "Yes, Cara, you are a healthy, attractive girl, and I love you, now go and put your clothes on."

"Not yet." Cara again got behind her mother and quickly undid her bra and in the same motion pulled the bra from her mother's shoulders. Then, feeling her mother trying to escape, she tightly held on to her and studied the breasts she couldn't remembered ever having seen before. They were medium in size, but heavy, with freckles and large, brown areolas, like her own, and they rested against her ribs comfortably, as if they spent all their time there and not in the worn grey bra at her feet. "You're beautiful mum, you really are, why can't you understand that?"

"Because I can't." Her mother looked down, ashamed at her nudity.

Cara took one of her mother's breasts in her hand and gently caressed her nipple with her thumb. "I am going to make you learn that you're beautiful mum, I'll do that if it's the last thing I ever do," and then she picked up her pants and started to dress.

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