A Million to One

I was clearly working faster than her and standing up to stretch my back between balusters, I glanced down to once more catch a glimpse of boob just as she released a concerned gasp.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed and I studied her more closely.

"What is it?"

"I've.." she paused and I watched her awkwardly lean down into the tread of the second step. "I've got my arm caught!"

"Seriously?" I laughed as I casually made my way down the stairs towards her.

"Yes," she managed a giggle as she again twisted her body, her bottom wiggling suggestively even from above. I reached her step and looked down at the problem, surprised that she'd even managed to get in the position. Her arm inserted between two balusters, her elbow was clearly wedged in the curve of the wood but I failed to see why she couldn't pull it out.

"You can't just twist your arm?" I helpfully inquired.

"Well I've tried that," she rebuffed as I leaned into the railing for a better look.

"You sure?" I questioned. "It doesn't look too badly wedged."

"Well don't you think I'd pull it out if I could?" she snapped back, losing some of her humor.

"Alright!" I chastised her. "Don't shoot the messenger."

"I'm sorry Honey," she relaxed and looked up at me, allowing me to see, as before, most of the way down between her breasts. "Maybe you could get some oil?"

I chuckled before realizing she was serious.

"What, baby oil?"

"Or just some olive oil from the kitchen," she offered as I rose and headed around behind her to take a look from the other side of the railing. "You could smear it on my arm. Lube it up."

She said that just as I stepped behind her and happened to look down upon her ass. The dress she wore had ridden up upon her buttocks revealing the backs of her thighs, the curve of her ass. With her face turned away from me, I had the pleasure of staring without the fear of being caught. A question from earlier in the day now answered. There was no thong. I paused, mesmerized by what lay before me. My mother on her knees, arm trapped, locking her in such a vulnerable position with her dress riding up to reveal her nudity. My head swam as I recalled countless porn scenes depicting similar, to be honest, none as plausible, or as hot for that matter.

"Are you getting the oil?" Mom broke me from my spell as I managed to drag my eyes from the darker skin around her little puckered asshole, the twin bulge of plump labia and the tuft of soft looking pubic hair below.

"Ah, no," I stammered as I finally made it the other side of the balustrade and kneeled down, looking at her though the rails. "Are you sure about that?" I asked, thinking it right out of a porn playbook. Son spills the oil on his mother, ends up fucking her. Is that what she wanted?

"I don't know," she seemed genuinely at a loss as to what to do. "I just know we're not calling the fire department!" she managed a laugh. "Maybe you could just pull me out from behind?"

I didn't know what to say. If this was a movie scene, I'd obviously be happy to get behind and fuck her, the erection in my pants agreeing with that sentiment. But this was real life. Mom was actually stuck. Her dress hadn't ridden up on purpose, it was a condition of her predicament. That she wasn't wearing panties to begin with was only a coincidence. I rose and once more walked behind her to see her ass even more uncovered. Her dress around her waist, her lower back now bare. The saliva in my mouth dried up and I felt light headed as I looked into her pussy. Surely she was aware she was so exposed. But what if she wasn't? What if this wasn't a ploy to have me see her sex, to have me 'accidentally' fuck her? In her panic, maybe she wasn't cognizant of her suggestive behavior?

Without an actual invitation to sex, I wasn't going to embarrass myself by suggesting something that wasn't there. The ramifications to our lives if I was misreading the scenario were astronomical. With the few moments of impunity still afforded to me with her head turned, I risked a rub of the erection in my pants as I took in her ass and pussy. Recording the vision for prosperity lest I never see it again.

"I'm ready," she sighed and I took a deep breath as I lowered myself down behind her.

There was a sliding doors moment that presented itself to me. Press my cock into her ass, perhaps clasp her hanging breasts for leverage? My cock could somehow slip from my pants and end up deep inside her. She'd be reluctant at first but as pleasure enveloped her body, she'd embrace the accidental incest.

"Baby, my arm's starting to hurt," she informed me, a growing alarm in her voice and her ass wiggled almost lasciviously.

I took the other option and instead of lechery, I chose comfort and compassion. Placing a hand flat on her back, I moved in beside her.

"Mom," I soothed her. "Just relax." I stroked my hand downwards and took hold of the raised dress upon her lower back and brought it down over her buttocks, removing the temptation. It was a strategy on my behalf. The way I saw it, I was a winner either way. At least 70% sure this was all a ruse, the video call, presenting to me half naked upon my arrival, now this, I was convinced she had feelings for me that weren't just motherly. And I her. If it was going to happen between us, it would happen. But let her be honest when it did.

"Ok," I stroked her back, the action encouraging my erection just as much as anything overtly sexual. "Breathe deeply," I suggested. "We'll get you out."

Instead of following her instructions and pulling her from behind, I again circled around the balustrade and took hold of her arm, her forearm exhibiting some sign of swelling and it suddenly dawned on me she may've actually been stuck!

"Alright I'm just going to twist it a little," I calmly stated and gently rubbed her skin, seeing goosebumps raise on her upper arm. "Do you trust me?"

Her eyes found mine and I saw a vulnerability behind them as she nodded and I wanted to kiss her. Screw the nice guy act, I thought to myself. I should've fucked her when I had the chance, I mused. Taking her arm in both hands I lifted and twisted, she got it in this position, surely we could get it out? Pushing forward as I bent her elbow, her arm slipped back through the gap like a hot knife through butter and once more I found myself believing it to be an act.

"Oh God thank you," she praised as she sat back against the wall upon the third step, rubbing her arm.

"All part of the service," I grinned as I came around to stand before her. Her legs parted, the dress fell between, resting upon her pubic bone and I assumed I'd averted my eyes before she noticed my glance.

"Sorry about that," she peered down at her dress before frowning up at me. "If I embarrassed you."

I felt my face go red and dismissed her with a chuckle.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied and looked back at the balustrade. "Just be more careful in the future."

"Yes Daddy," she said sarcastically, the second time she'd used the similar nomenclature, her tone that of a petulant teenager.

I laughed, my cock unwittingly twitching in my pants. "Come on, let's get back to it."

*

A bottle of wine with dinner had turned to two and late evening Mom returned from upstairs having changed for bed. I was admiring the finished staircase from the hallway and she sidled up beside me, bumping my side with her hip. "The floors will be next," she proclaimed. "Oh. Do you remember those floors in our first house? When you were little."

I did. Hardwood timber, polished to the point of being dangerous and I smiled at the recollection.

"Remember you used to skate around the house in your socks? We never heard you coming," she laughed.

This I recalled as well and it brought back another memory, one that I wondered if my mother was subversively forcing me to imagine.

A middle of the night excursion from my room to get a glass of water. Noises from my parents' bedroom and a peek around the partially closed door. I thought they were wrestling. Mom clearly winning in that she was on top. Dad's head was buried in the pillow and it was only Mom that saw me standing in the darkness of the hallway. I watched as she rose up from my father's chest, her bare torso and thighs, the curve of her buttocks as she ground her groin upon Dad's. Continuing even as I stared in fascinated silence, a knowing smile on her face.

She looked like the ladies I'd seen in the magazines stolen from friends' fathers and shared amongst us. Actually, she looked better. She was real. We never spoke of it. In the morning she may've kissed me more affectionately but maybe I imagined that. As far as I was aware, Dad never knew I'd seen and I liked to think it was the case, a secret between mother and son.

Walking back into the living room she followed and when I rounded the couch, (the same couch I'd watched her masturbating upon) she was rubbing her shoulder.

"I must have strained it when I was stuck," she grumbled and I was quick to offer support.

"Oh yeah?" I sympathized as she sat beside me on the cushions. "This help?" I asked as I pressed my fingers into the muscles of her trapezius.

It was innocent. A son giving a friendly massage to his ailing mother. I'd have offered the same to a man. Her sigh at the touch and the effect it had on my cock weren't so however.

"Mmm, that's nice," she cooed, getting into a better position by lifting her legs and laying upon the couch. "Can I?" She needlessly asked to lay her head upon my thigh and I coaxed her down in response. One hand continuing the massage, I used my other to gently stroke her hair and she responded to this even more so, rolling onto her back, my groin as her pillow.

My left hand rendered useless, I continued stroking my fingers through her hair, her eyes closing with the apparent pleasure. It allowed me to look at her attire. Pink satin pajamas. Short sleeves and shorts. She'd neglected to button the middle of three on the shirt and her breasts, bulging out the material, caused a diamond of flesh exposed above her navel. One leg bent, the other straight, the shorts clung to her pubic bone hermetically, the contours of her outer labia, even the impression of her lush pubic hair evident through the material.

My fingers stroking her scalp, combing through her hair, the wine, brought sleep upon her almost immediately yet I didn't let up my action. I looked at her closed eyelids, the makeup washed away, now her natural beauty, her slightly upturned nose, her lips, slightly parted. I could kiss her. Awaken my sleeping beauty and confess my love. Earlier I'd been 70% sure she felt the same. Was I any more so?

I looked again at her chest, the light pink satin taut across her ample breasts. Nipples, not hard but visible all the same. The top button was barely attached. Less than half of it pushed through the hole. The slightest of movement and it'd slip out, surely. My redundant left hand now became indispensable as I raised it across her chest and gently pushed on the placket, allowing the button to come loose. It worked better than I'd expected. Too well actually as the front of her shirt opened up completely exposing her right breast in its entirety.

My cock responded accordingly, from semi erect to full blown in seconds, thankfully in the direction away from her head. The last thing I needed was her to wake to find herself undressed with my dick against her head. I was trying to be a gentleman here. Staring at her uncovered nipple, I watched as it slowly hardened. Was it from exposure to the air or was something else at play here? Regardless, I needed to touch it!

My dick for the moment thinking for me, I cautiously lowered my hand over her chest and with just my index finger, pressed it into the hard underside of her nipple amid the large areola. My cock stirred. She purred. The volume of the television changed when the ads came on and Mom awoke, my hand pulled away with lightning speed. She arched her neck to look up into my eyes and smiled, apparently unaware of her undressed state.

"I must've fallen asleep!" She whispered and I wished I had kissed her awake. I wished I'd kept my hand on her breast. I wished I'd fucked her on the stairs like I knew she'd wanted.

Her eyes cast downwards and she let out a little gasp at her exposed breast.

"Oops, sorry," she giggled, sadly bringing her shirt together and affixing the buttons. "Goodness, I'm sure you've seen about enough of me today. You'll have nightmares," she added.

"Nah, it's alright," I admitted but did think about one aspect of her comment. "We should get some sleep though. Another big day tomorrow."

"You're right," she agreed, sitting up, yawning and accentuating her breasts even more so with a stretch. "You'll be ok in that single bed?"

Was she offering to share her own? I wondered.

"Well it's either that or the couch," I countered, leaving out the third option.

"Hmm, I suppose," she sadly agreed and we said our goodnights. Did her eyes scan my crotch when I left her outside her room though? Again, maybe it was wishful thinking.

*

A restless night. I jerked off in the morning. Almost guiltily evacuating into a sock for ease of cleanup whilst eyes affixed to my phone. The image of her transferred from my pc, frozen in time with mouth agape awaiting my cock, my cum.

In my post orgasm reflection, I began to see clarity. We weren't going to fuck! All of it was projection on my part. She'd no idea I'd witnessed her masturbating. Her half naked appearance on my arrival was coincidental. The staircase incident was no ruse. She'd genuinely been stuck; the fact she was panty-less at the time, irrelevant. And her exposure upon the couch? Another harmless wardrobe malfunction.

I pressed upon the image and the delete icon appeared, responding quickly before I changed my mind. Remove the temptation I decided, and just like that, she was gone. So were my delusions of Incest. Between my mother and I; as if?

*

A day spent outdoors. A tree stump removed; the wild blackberry bushes tamed, Mom at one period lifting her dress to show me superficial scratches she received from collecting its fruit. Did she need to raise it so far? The soft mound of her pussy pressing through her white panties. I'd been kneeling. Maybe she wasn't aware of how much she displayed. I chastised her for not being more careful. I should've put her over my knee for a spanking for being so seductive.

Come early evening I found myself examining the bookshelf for the novel she'd been reading in our cam session. Red writing on a white spine, I noticed it right away and marveled at what I held. An inexpensive erotic novel, the title giving I supposed a pretty fair impression as to its content. 'Anna's Anal Awakening,' I read the cover and flicked open the book to be startled further more by a hand written dedication. 'For Ella on those lonely nights,' signed someone named Melody. An erotic novel given to my own mother by another woman.

"Looking for something to read?" Mom remarked from behind and startled, I thrust the book back upon the shelf.

"What? Yeah, no, just browsing!" I blabbered, looking on every shelf but the one I'd been.

She came up beside me and I felt I'd fallen into our video call. She wore her babydoll, its transparent nature more pervasive in person.

"You should read this," Mom took down a hardcover from beside Anna's exploits and passed me the book. "We have a connection to it!"

The woman pictured on the cover was clearly from the previous century and before I could peruse further, Mom was opening up to show me another personalized dedication.

"My friend Melody gave it to me," she proudly stated as I read the inscription. 'Dearest Ella. To enjoy and inspire, Melody.'

"Melody?"

"The one from town that makes the dresses. I think I told you," she elaborated. "She's the one that told me about the house. Its history."

I shook my head in ignorance of what she spoke.

"I hadn't told you?" Mom frowned. "I thought I had. Oh well. It was owned by her," she pointed to the book. "Delia Caster. Back in the 1920's. She was a famous socialite, a bon vivant. We're standing in her winter escape."

I again looked at the cover and the woman. Definitely beautiful, a string of pearls at her neck, black bob of a haircut. The book had also answered the question as to who in fact was Melody.

Does a casual friend give one an erotic novel? Especially dedicated with such an intimate message. What wasn't Mom telling me about her relationship with this woman?

"Why wasn't that told to us when we bought the place?" I diverted my line of questioning back to something more wholesome. "You'd think that'd be a selling point."

"She's not widely known now I guess," Mom clarified. "I've had a couple of tourists stop by to look though. Oh, and the owners of her home in L.A. They were a lovely couple."

"You could market this," I suggested. "Turn the house into a B&B or something. There are enough rooms."

I could see the cogs turning in Mom's head.

"That's actually quite a good idea," she admitted and I smiled.

"What, shocked I came up with it?" I laughed and she slapped me playfully on the arm.

"I didn't mean it like that," she smiled and seemed loathe to remove her hand from my bicep. A number of seconds passing without either of us speaking. It was I that finally broke what was becoming an awkward silence with as equally an awkward topic.

Her attire.

The pink pajamas of the night before were cute, possibly described as sexy, but they weren't lingerie. This was. And the fact she was wearing it, casually walking around the house and standing before me, was definitely worthy of note.

"You going to bed?" I openly glanced down at her body and she followed my eyes almost surprised at seeing what she wore.

"Oh, yes," she blushed smoothing down the front. "It's all just caught up with me I'm afraid."

To say I was disappointed was an understatement. My final night there, leaving early the next day, the slither of hope I harbored of something sexual happening between us was seemingly evaporating before my eyes.

Her eyes settled on mine and searched.

"Unless there's something you wanted to do together?" she threw a proverbial incestuous lifeline. Yes, there was something we could do together. We could fuck! I wanted to say. I could see her nipples through the white nylon. I could see her pubic hair behind what from the front looked to be an extremely tiny thong for God's sake. Everything about her said she wanted it as well but neither of us it seemed could say the words. To finally break that taboo and declare our feelings.

"I can't think of anything," I stammered. "Watch tv, I guess," I proposed and wanted to slap myself upside the head.

"Mmm, I figured," Mom rolled her eyes, but not derogatorily. "Oh well. I suppose I'll see you in the morning," she offered, pausing before she turned from me allowing me to see her ass, the string of her white thong disappearing between her buttocks, almost a groan escaping my throat.

"Yeah, goodnight," I watched her go. Hating myself. Annoyed with her. She was the adult here. I mean, yes, I was nearly 30 years old but she was the parent. The one in charge. She ultimately called the shots.

I watched her for as long as was able before abandoning the Delia Caster biography and taking up Anna's Anal Awakening and skimming through. With Mom's photo gone from my phone I needed something else to inspire me, thinking a date with my other sock was in my near future.

*

I couldn't sleep. I doubted it would come altogether, eventually turning on the bedside lamp to find my phone and check the time. Not even midnight. I'd heard her, not half an hour before I supposed. A creak upon the stairs, a sound downstairs, the return. Now nothing. Or was there?