After The Accidentbyepiphany65©
Rachel Comeau turned the shower off and stepped out of the tub. Water dripped from her auburn hair and ran down her tanned body in tiny, diamond-like beads. She wiggled her toes and wiped her feet on the blue shag bath mat. Rachel sighed. It had been humid and overcast for a few days. Having a shower did not seem to cool her off like she had hoped. What she wanted was for it to rain hard. Steam hung in the air and coated the bathroom mirror. Turning to her left, Rachel opened a small window beside the toilet. The pink lace curtains moved slightly as a faint breeze entered the bathroom, drawing the steam out. The fresh air teased Rachel's nipples. They began to tingle and stiffen. She smiled, enjoying the sensation of the air caressing her naked body. She found it arousing and a welcome change from the oppressive heat of recently.
From the bathroom window Rachel looked across her narrow yard to her neighbours' small two-story green house, separated from her property by a waist-high hedge. Rachel considered wrapping herself in one of the terrycloth bath sheets that hung over the shower rod, then decided against it. It was too hot. Besides, she enjoyed the air on her bare, wet skin. She knew that anyone looking up at her bathroom window would easily be able to see her breasts, but she did not care. Actually, it was more than just not caring. The thought of someone seeing her topless, with her copper-colored nipples hard and thick, made her clit begin to swell. Her pussy began to moisten.
Rachel reached down and pressed her index finger to her pink pearl, then stroked her wet lips. She looked over to the house next to hers. There was a picture window and another small one beside that downstairs facing her house. Upstairs, there were two windows covered by curtains, probably bedrooms. Anyone watching from them would be able to see her. Rachel smiled and brushed her fingers over her left nipple, searching for signs of life next door.
Rachel knew her neighbours fairly well. Kevin and Sara McNevin had lived next to her for just over seven years. Their son, Dean, was best friends with her own son, Eric. Both of them were about to celebrate their nineteenth birthdays soon within a month of each other. She wondered what Kevin or Dean would think if they could see her at that moment. Then she recalled the times she had caught their eyes roaming over her. It was usually when she wore shorts while gardening, or a top that revealed her cleavage when she leaned over. Neither of them had ever said or done anything that was inappropriate or disrespectful, but she could tell they wanted to. The hungry look in their blue eyes and the bulges in their trousers belied their polite exteriors.
A rush of wantonness grew within Rachel as she thought about Kevin and Dean leering at her. She remembered an incident a week previous when she was crouched over her flower garden wearing a tank top and shorts. Dean had come over to see if Eric was home. Rachel could feel her breasts sway inside her bra as she tilled the soil and pulled weeds. She knew that Dean would be able to see down the front of her tank top as he stood over her, less than a yard away. It thrilled her and made her wet. When she looked up she immediately noticed the bulge in Dean's tight jeans. Lewd thoughts of tugging his zipper down and taking his hard cock deep in her mouth flooded her mind.
Rachel smiled as she continued to stroke her slick pussy and rub her hard clit, still looking out the bathroom window. Her musky juice coated her fingers. They slipped inside her tight hole with ease. First one, then another -- filling and stretching her. A series of moans escaped her mouth. She felt an orgasm building within her. She had been masturbating a lot recently. Finally, her libido had returned to normal for the first time since The Accident, she thought.
The Accident. Just the thought of it made Rachel as dry as a desert. She sighed and pulled her fingers away from her pussy. She wiped them off on a towel hanging above the toilet. It had been seventeen months and twenty-three days since The Accident, which had claimed the life of her husband, Brad. Friends had told her that within a year her life would take on a new normalcy, but it was taking longer. Rachel knew that were it not for the love and support of her son she might never recover from losing Brad. In fact, she may have done something in order to join him -- wherever he was now.
Brad was an electrical engineer. He had gone to inspect an office building under construction that afternoon seventeen months ago. Whoever assembled the scaffolding used to reach the wiring for the ceiling fixtures had done a piss-poor job. Brad and the foreman overseeing the work site, Charlie Peterkin, were looking at blueprints spread out on a sheet of plywood lying on sawhorses beside the scaffolding. No one heard it creak and groan at first, until it began to collapse with a sound like a train wreck. Steel, plywood, tools and bales of wire rained down on Brad and Charlie. Charlie was fortunate; he escaped with a broken leg and fractured ribs. Brad was dead before anyone called 911.
Without her husband, Rachel was lost. Adrift. She was not yet forty and already a widow with a teenage son to raise. This was not supposed to have happened; not to someone so young. She had known Brad all her life, or at least it seemed so. They had met when she was sixteen and soon began dating. Within a year she was pregnant. Before she was twenty she was married. Rachel had never known another man or another kind of life. She did not know how to rebuild her life at first. If there was any bit of hope for her to cling to it was that Brad had a sizable life insurance policy and the company constructing the building reached an out-of-court settlement with her before she filed a wrongful death lawsuit. She would never have to worry about money and Eric's college expenses would never be a concern. Still, nothing could replace the loving husband and father they had lost.
Rachel's morose thoughts were interrupted by the sudden din of music coming from her son's room next to the bathroom. She had not heard Eric come home. He must have returned from his afternoon classes while she was masturbating, she concluded. She felt somewhat embarrassed at the thought of him perhaps hearing her soft cries of pleasure through the adjoining wall earlier, then the corners of her rosy lips curled up. Her clit jumped once more and her juice began to flow. She felt bold and shameless, thinking about her teenage son hearing her moan as she buried her fingers in her tight, juicy pussy.
She resisted the urge to touch herself. Instead, she reached for one of the towels hanging over the tub. She wrapped it tight around her damp body. The soft terrycloth felt good rubbing over her sensitive nipples and soft skin. The sensations made her clit throb even more and her pussy become wetter. Rachel opened the bathroom door went towards her son's room. His door was open.
"Eric... Eric, could you turn that music down, please?" she called out.
Eric looked up from his computer monitor with a puzzled look. He turned his CD player off. "What?" he asked.
"The music... it sounded like Studio 54 in here," his mother said.
"Studio what?" he asked.
"Never mind. You're too young." Rachel chuckled as she shook her head, feeling ancient.
"Are you done in the bathroom?" he asked.
"Yes, it's all yours," she told him.
Eric got up from his computer desk. He walked past his mother on his way to the bathroom. Rachel was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed at her waist. Her son had only pushed the bathroom door ajar and she could hear the steady stream hitting the water in the bowl. She imagined him standing there, holding his cock in his hand. She wondered if he was as thick as his father was. Eric was certainly as handsome as Brad was. He resembled Brad in many ways: black hair, blue eyes and a muscular frame that reached nearly six feet, so it was likely that he was hung like him as well. He was circumcised, she knew that much. But he was an adult now -- fully grown. She squeezed her left breast through the towel, rubbing the soft material over her engorged nipple as she thought about Eric's shaft in her rather than her fingers. Above the towel she could see a few inches of deep cleavage and a hint of her firm breasts. She tugged the towel tighter around her, securing it, but did not pull it higher.
"How were your classes?" she asked Eric when he returned.
"Good. I had math and chemistry. I'm good in those, so it was an easy afternoon."
"You're too modest. You're good in everything," she replied with a proud smile.
Eric smiled at his mother as he sat back down at his computer desk. "Thanks, Mom."
What Rachel had said was not just flattery from a parent; it was the truth. Her son had inherited Brad's intelligence too. Eric had maintained good grades throughout high school and was continuing to do so in college. He was considering majoring in engineering, like his father. It would be one more thing they shared.
Rachel smiled at her son, then noticed the familiar look in his eyes. She had seen that look many times before when his father looked at her. It indicated a growing desire within him and almost always preceded them having sex. Lately Eric had been giving her that look more often and she was becoming more affected by it each time. Her clit pulsed again as Eric's sapphire eyes moved down over her cleavage and the curves of her breasts filling out the front of her towel.
She knew that she was beginning to succumb to a forbidden desire that was growing within her. It was fed by her son's looks of yearning. This had begun over a month previous when she realized that Eric was beginning to take notice of her more frequently. It began with quick glances at her chest or backside, then eventually grew into lingering stares at times -- especially when he thought she didn't notice. At first Rachel considered it harmless curiosity that was typical of teenage males. But it soon became routine for his eyes to be riveted to her. It reminded Rachel of Brad's lustful admiration of her and it began to arouse her. She loved Eric deeply and he resembled his late father so much that she found herself excited by the attention, although she knew it was improper at best. If her friends or family knew that she was turned-on by her teenage son's leering they would be more than shocked. She would instantly become a pariah.
"Well, I'm going to go get dressed, then start supper," Rachel said, feeling anxious and guilty.
Rachel closed her bedroom door behind her. She unwrapped her damp towel from herself and tossed it on her unmade bed. As she padded across the hardwood floor towards her closet Rachel felt her breasts bounce. She stopped and cupped them in her hands, tilting her head down to appraise them. She had never been especially proud of her looks, although she knew that men often took notice of her. She was surprised that they seemed to frequently notice her chest because she had always considered herself of just average size up there. Although she had considerably more than she could hold in her palms, that still did not compare to some women she saw around town.
"Not bad, I guess," Rachel mumbled to herself, releasing her breasts.
She pushed clothes on hangers aside in her closet, searching for something to wear. Eventually she decided on a white short-sleeved blouse with a square hem and a denim mini skirt. In a bureau drawer she found a pair of red bikini panties. She knew that no one would see them, but she wanted to feel sexy. She pulled them on, then cupped her mound through the sheer material. She could feel the heat and moisture of her lips through the red fabric and knew it would be damp in a while. Rachel pulled the skirt up, then looked own, examining how much of her thighs remained bare. Quite a bit of them, but she reasoned that she could get away with wearing an outfit like this in this oppressive humidity. The blouse felt cool on her skin when she pulled it on. As she buttoned it the fabric grazed her over-stimulated nipples. Rachel heard herself give a soft moan, then tightened her lips, worried that Eric would hear.
Rachel turned to look at herself in a mirror that hung on the inside of her closet door. She flipped her still-damp hair back over her shoulders. Her nipples stood straight out from the front of her blouse. She arched her back so her breasts strained the white cotton. Now she could see the dark outline of her areolas through the blouse. She drew her fingertip around her left one, wondering if Eric would notice, then hoped he would.
When Eric joined her later in the kitchen Rachel was at the table preparing a salad for their supper. Her son leaned over her right shoulder, reaching around her for a piece of tomato in the salad bowl. He placed a hand on her lower back, just above her left hip. It almost made Rachel quiver.
"Don't eat it all before I've finished getting it ready." Rachel turned and smiled up at her son.
"Just a couple of more pieces," he said.
Rachel was slicing fresh mushrooms. She felt Eric's left thigh rub over her ass. His hand was still on her, but he had slid it down to her left hip. Rachel bit the corner of her bottom lip, trying to ignore the sensations of her clit and wet pussy. When she reached across the table for a green pepper to her right she felt her son pressing against her ass once more, but something felt different. It took her a moment before she realized that Eric's hard cock was pressing against her. She froze for a moment, feeling a wave of arousal wash over her. Never before had her son been so bold. It surprised her, but it made every nerve in her body tingle. She recalled how his father had bent her over that same table one morning and fucked her. Brad had pulled her skirt up around her waist and her panties down past her knees. He gripped her hips and rammed his cock in her, thrusting and groaning until he filled her with his cum. An image of Eric doing the same thing flashed in her mind. She had to get him away from her before he realized how horny she was, or before she did something stupid.
"If you wanted to help, you could get some bowls and forks out," Rachel said. "Oh, and the salad dressing is in the fridge."
Eric felt his cock throb as he went to the fridge. His senses reeled with the feeling of his mother's body still fresh in his mind. Rubbing himself over her ass had not been intentional, but that bit of serendipity was one of the most exciting moments of his life. He was surprised that she had not reacted or said anything, although relieved. He was sure she must have felt his hard-on against her. For a moment he allowed himself to believe her silence was not from embarrassment or wanting to avoid an uncomfortable situation, but because she enjoyed it.
Rachel finished preparing the salad, then got out a plate of cold-cuts and some garlic bread. Eric sat down at the table to her right and they began eating. The combination of the heat and her libido had weakened Rachel's appetite, but she ate anyway. When she crossed her legs under the table she felt her wet lips slide over each other. The pressure on her clit was pleasant, but somewhat distracting. She inhaled deeply and continued eating.
Once Rachel and Eric finished eating she put the leftovers away and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She was wiping the table when she noticed rain splattering across the kitchen window. Eric was still sitting at the table.
"Oh, shit," she said.
"What?" her son asked.
"It's started to rain and I left my car windows open."
Without any prompting, Eric jumped up. "I'll go put them up."
By the time Eric was walking to his mother's car the rain had picked up considerably. Rachel watched from the door as her son quickly rolled the two front windows up. She had never seen a rainstorm begin so suddenly. As Eric ran back towards the house it was pouring. His hair was soaked and drops of water ran down his face.
"It turned really nasty all-of-a-sudden," Rachel said, looking at her son's soaked hair and t-shirt.
"Yeah... I've never seen it like that before."
Eric pulled the hem of his soggy t-shirt up and wiped his face. Rachel's brown eyes moved to his tanned, muscled abdomen. Her pulse quickened as she took in his well-toned form. She smiled, wondering if this was how men felt as they stole glances at her body.
"You look like a wet dog," Rachel teased.
Eric laughed and leaned over her. He gave his head a vigorous shake, splashing her with rainwater as his wet hair whipped about.
"Hey... watch out! I already had a shower today," she squealed, then giggled.
Eric was laughing now too.
"Seriously, thanks for going out for me," she said, meeting his eyes and smiling. "You've been such a help since... since The Accident, Eric."
Eric nodded, noticing a mixture of love and sadness in his mother's pretty brown eyes. "No problem. I'm glad I can help. I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, Honey," she said.
Rachel felt tears welling in her eyes. She took a step forward and wrapped her arms around her son's waist. She rested her head on his broad chest, clutching him. She felt his hands slip around her waist as he held her. His muscular arms felt strong as he pulled her to him. It had been longer than she could remember when she felt so safe -- so loved and cared for. She needed that and missed it immensely. The feeling wasn't sexual, although those emotions were still there. It was something she had no words for and had not experienced since The Accident. She sighed and melted into her son's embrace.
Eric held his mother in his arms. He pulled her tighter to him when he heard her sigh. His cock was hard, so he was careful to keep some distance between them. He was still nervous after the incident at the table before supper. After several seconds Rachel craned her neck up and kissed his cheek. When she pulled away Eric noticed that her blouse had gotten wet as she pressed herself to his rain-soaked t-shirt. His eyes were drawn to her dusky areolas and hard nipples showing through her damp, white blouse. He smiled without even realizing it.
"What?" she asked, curious about the look on his face.
"You look like you're about to enter a wet t-shirt contest," he said, then laughed.
Rachel looked down to her chest and inhaled sharply in surprise. She blushed when she saw what he was referring to. Her son was observing her, still smiling. His hands were still on her hips, holding her so she could not move away. She felt herself blush and regretted being bold enough to wear the blouse without a bra. The damp cotton was a second skin on her. It felt cold now and made her nipples react. She could feel them tingle as they rubbed over the wet material.
"I should go change," she said, but didn't move. The excited look in her son's eyes held her there.
"Don't bother. It will dry off in a little while. Besides, it's too late now."
Rachel gave her son a bashful smile. She tugged the clinging blouse away from her and ran her fingers through her hair.
"You're cute when you're shy," he said.
"I'm normally a modest person," she said, her voice soft and nervous. "I don't wear things like this when I go out somewhere."
"It's okay, Mom. There's just you and me here. No one else can see." Eric's eyes darted between her face and chest.
"But, you're the last person who should see me like this; I'm your mother," she told him, looking shy.
"Has anyone seen them since Dad died?
Rachel was caught off-guard by her son's blunt question. Her eyes widened and she felt her jaw grow tense. "No! Of course not," she exclaimed, almost indignant.
"Well, now that Dad's gone, I'm just carrying on the family tradition -- picking up where he left off." Eric smiled and gave a brash laugh.