Family Photos

"I can't seem to..." she began. "...I had no trouble with it earlier," she alluded to the strings of the bikini top hanging down at her sides, and placing the phone in my front pocket and trying to remain professional in the face of such a sight, I approached her from behind. "If you wouldn't mind?" She almost whispered.

"No, that's cool," I casually replied, though I felt my heart could be heard in the otherwise quiet room, totally giving the game away as to how I felt. Closer, and I could see over her shoulder, her hands cupping her breasts, keeping the bikini in place. I dared not look lower, focusing on the task presented to me. My fingers shook as I took hold of the strings, bringing them together across her spine, feeling her warm skin, goosebumps noticeably rising on her arms at my touch. "Perfect," I complimented my work, though as she turned, adjusting the bikini to evenly sit upon her boobs, I could've been complimenting her.

The small cups were no match for her areola. The pink skin escaping the material on nearly all sides, her nipples, hard and demanding my eyes acknowledge, mother or not! Did they linger? You bet. And when they'd had their fill, they sought further nourishment. Dropping. Her exposed belly. Was it flat? Of course not. This was a woman who'd just seen her fifty-fifth year. I didn't expect to see a calendar girl, yet the calendar hadn't been unkind; smooth pale skin descending to the thong of her bikini. The tiniest of triangles attempting to contain her pronounced pubic bone. It was here I came to my senses and looked away, turning as if unconcerned or unfazed by her state.

"So..." She paused and pulling the phone from my pocket, I slowly turned back to face her. "What do you think?"

She was in the process of climbing back upon the bed, bent forward as she crawled onto the mattress. My eyes zeroed in on her butt, the curve of her pale buttocks, and the pink string lost between. My mother's bare ass, I told myself, and sirens ringing in my head told me to look away. I couldn't. Mesmerized I watched as she slowly turned, almost seductively taking up the kneeling position we'd begun with the tankini, her eyes eventually returning to mine.

"Well?" She continued.

"What?" I came to my senses, realizing I was staring and tearing my gaze from her, focusing on the phone.

"The bikini?" She questioned her outfit and given a license to once more look... I looked.

"Oh..." I paused, letting my eyes linger upon her breasts, surprisingly perky for her age, again focusing on her crotch, a conspicuous absence of any obvious pubic hair escaping the minimal fabric. Was my mother's pussy shaved? I asked myself and horror of all horrors, my cock responded to the thought and vision, hardening despite the familial relationship. No, this wasn't happening, I determined and attempted to shut it down, willing away the developing erection. "Um... I'm just wondering what Dad would've thought about it?" I deferred giving my own opinion, the thought of my deceased father helping ease the swelling in my pants.

To my surprise, Mom scoffed.

"Oh, your father wouldn't have let me wear anything like this," she divulged and for a moment there was a look of sadness in her eyes, dispelled as she changed the subject. "So how do you want me?" She questioned, quickly laughing as she realized how it sounded, throwing a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. "I mean, how should I pose?" She giggled, her face noticeably red.

"Um," I looked down at the phone, lifting it to train once more upon her. "I guess we just do like before," I offered, and seamlessly, she moved into the spread-legged kneeled position we'd begun with. Same, yet oh so different.

Looking through the phone's screen gave me some detachment from the scenario. But I wondered if it wasn't adding to the arousal I felt. Confusing my emotions somehow? Was my now undeniable hard-on, for my mother, or the product of acting out a fantasy roleplay of photographer and model? Stimulating, regardless of subject? Moving the camera from panorama to portrait and zooming in to have her take up the whole screen, the paleness of her skin, the curves of her flesh, the smile in her eyes and on her mouth. That mouth. Her full lips with the lightest daubing of lipstick. As she took hold of the waist of her bikini and pulled up as a professional model would do, the triangle of material barely able to contain her bulging labia. As she pushed out her chest to present her magnificent breasts to me. Her nipples hard. As hard as my cock. Who was I kidding? It was her I was attracted to. There was no denying it as she seamlessly transitioned into the poses we'd practiced earlier. As I surreptitiously rubbed my erection when her eyes were elsewhere. As I breathed in the faintest and yet undeniable scent of pussy. My mother's pussy. Aroused as I? Surely not.

What little blood that wasn't in my dick flooded and heated my face and feeling lightheaded I ended the session with her on all fours, dropping my eyes from the ridiculously attractive sight to turn and once more sit upon the edge of the bed. Immediately Mom was beside me, her body pressing into me as she matched my position to inspect the photos I'd taken.

"Ooh that's a good one," she stated, referring to an image of her looking back over her shoulder at the camera, my cock twitching just below the phone as I admired her ass and bare spine.

"You want to upload this one?" I questioned.

"Maybe. If you think my bum doesn't look too big?"

Her ass didn't look too big. Or too small. Goldilocks, it was just right. Perfect in my eyes. I didn't know if I should answer, definitely knew I couldn't be honest, so I deflected.

"Doesn't show off the bikini much though," I suggested, swiping to the next, another.

"You're right, best do one of the ones from the front," she agreed and I paused upon one of the first photos taken. Upon her knees, legs spread. Both arms raised behind her head. Her breasts lifted with ample under-boob on display, nipples poking; more than a hint of cameltoe; a seductive expression upon her face with lips parted. It could've been a professional photo, a glamour shot that wouldn't have looked out of place up on teenage Me's bedroom wall. (Had it not been my mother of course!)

"What about that?" I offered and looked into her eyes.

"If you think it looks good?" She threw it back to me and it was finally time to admit I did.

"They're all good," I confessed and my cock ached to be let loose. God, if I'd been on the Wet Waves website I'd have cum twice by now! "You look good," I followed and our locked eyes became uncomfortable, forcing mine away to focus on the phone. "I mean for my mom and everything!" I annotated and she laughed.

"I get it," she giggled, wriggling into me. "So, can you upload it for me?"

"Way ahead of you," I stated, already navigating to her browser and searching for the Wet Waves site, quickly finding the competition link.

"Oh!" Mom leaned further into me to inspect the webpage, the warmth of her exposed skin against my arm, the smell of perfume in her hair, and that other scent that was driving me mad.

"What?" I questioned.

"Go back to the last screen," she asked and then began to read from the page as I tilted the phone further in her direction. "...entrants must be over eighteen... the copyright owner... okay... there... whoops!"

"What?" I again asked, confused.

"This month's bikini," she read, then looked back up into my eyes.

"So?" I posed and she grimaced.

"This is last month's!" She looked down at her barely clad body. "We missed the cut-off by a week."

Was she serious? Nearly an hour we'd been at this. My cock was aching, pre-cum uncomfortably sticking the eye to my underpants now and then. Then there was the overriding unease of just keeping its presence a secret. There was no way I wanted her to know she'd given me the erection in the first place and until then I thought I'd done an impressively commendable job. I rose from the bed beside her, admittedly without a thought to my cock's position, and in my frustration with the situation dismissed the train her eyes took as they followed my movement. Disregarding the pause as they rose up my legs and lingered momentarily on my groin.

"What do you mean, last month's?" I once more sounded more aggrieved than I meant. "So again, we've wasted time for nothing?" I hated how it sounded. Was any erection wasted time? Was admittedly enjoying myself taking near-nude photos of my mother, wasted time? No fucking way. But ultimately, we were meant to be entering a competition. Nothing we'd done so far seemed relevant to that point. "Where's this month's bikini?" I held my hands out in exasperation.

"In my panty drawer," she meekly replied, and hearing her say 'that' word caught my breath a little.

"What?" I barely mumbled.

"It's in with my panties," she whispered and I followed her eyes as she looked toward her dresser.

"Well do you still want to enter this thing?" I looked back at her and as she sexily bit her lower lip, she nodded her head.

Was it adrenaline? Was it just a desire to look in her 'panty' drawer? I don't know. Whatever, I confidently strode to the dresser and opened the upmost drawer to reveal all manner of satin and lace delicates. So many colors, so many fabrics, and designs. I had the strangest compulsion to take all in my hands and lift to my face to press into my skin, my mouth, and nose. I obviously resisted, instead searching for what could be declared a bikini amid the eye candy.

"What am I looking for?" I gruffly questioned and hearing her rise she informed me it was yellow. Again, nothing came to the eye. There was a fluorescent shoelace in the corner, but nothing else remotely yellow, and definitely nothing that looked like a bikini. "I can't see anything," I admitted as I felt her presence beside me, and together, we stood before her dresser. Her open panty drawer below us. My mother's intimates, her bras, panties, and lingerie all within our grasp, all within caress.

"It's right here," she reached for the shoelace and my breath was caught.

Surely not!?

*

"What is that!?" I took a step back as she slowly pushed the drawer closed, allowing the 'shoelace' to unfurl from her fingers. Not a shoelace but surely not a bikini, simply a loop of thin fluorescent nylon.

"This is it," she nonchalantly declared. "This month's bikini."

I doubted it. She must have been mistaken somehow. The thing she held in her hands had no substance. It wouldn't cover anything. Amazingly I could feel my dick hardening further. The already granite-like structure straining against my pants, testing their resistance.

"Okay," I accepted her assertion. "I'll wait outside," I proposed, eager to be out of the room where I could think of something else. Remove her from my mind and sight and attempt to lessen the pressure at my groin, if only momentarily.

"Oh, don't be silly," she said. "This'll only take a moment. Just turn around," she wickedly smiled as she twirled an index finger.

Yep. She was going to get changed with me in the room. My mother. Seemingly not having a problem with her son being in such intimate proximity.

"Oh, before you do, could you?" She turned around and I understood she needed me to untie the bow I'd fastened. Did she though? She could merely have lifted the bikini top from her torso. Regardless, with shaking hands, I once more took hold of the ties and this time unfastened her top, the bikini falling away to leave her back bare. "Now turn around Mister," she giggled as she indeed lifted the bikini top over her head. "No peeking at your mother!"

As if in a trance, I followed her instruction and fortuitously found myself staring into our reflection in the full-length mirror of her closet.

I saw everything!

With her back to me, she tugged at the waist of her bikini bottom and pulled it down her legs, stepping out and leaving the minuscule item on the carpet. For a moment my eyes remained on it, imagining taking it in my hands and lifting it to my face. To breathe in the scent of my mother left on the tiny gusset. In response and with impunity, I moved a hand to the front of my pants and caressed the length of my bulge as I watched her take hold of the loop. Crossing it over to form a figure eight I finally understood how it worked and feasted on her nudity as she stepped into the sling she'd formed, pulling it up over her shoulders.

"Okay," she sighed. "I..." she paused. "...think I'm ready."

My hand came from my cock just in time as we turned as one to face each other. Was she serious? Was she mad? This was no bikini. And even if it was, what mother would dare wear it in front of her son? The greatest mother on Earth! I quickly answered my question. Showing some awareness as to the state of her undress, she attempted to position the two strings over her nipples but the task was fruitless, slipping off immediately to leave her breasts bare and exposed to my eyes. But it wasn't where they lingered. No. Immediately I gazed down at her groin and yes. As I'd assumed earlier, my mother's pussy was shaved. The converging V of the strings lay atop her bald mound to disappear completely within her exposed vulva, her labia clear as day. To sum up. My mother was naked.

My mouth had dried, and as my eyes slowly raised to find hers upon me, I struggled to come up with anything intelligible to say.

"I," I paused. "Mom! Are you sure about this?"

"What?" She seemed almost taken aback, looking down at her body.

"What!" I repeated to her. "You're almost... I mean, you're naked," I stated and to this, she scoffed.

"Oh, heavens I am not," she denied, giggling. "It's a swimsuit Darling. Yes, it's a little skimpy but not much more than the last. You didn't have a problem with that one!" She challenged and to be honest I had to agree. Nor with this, my cock especially complimentary, pulsing against my pants.

"I... I..." I was turning into a bumbling idiot and fumbled over my words, clearly embarrassed and to this, she seemed aware.

"It's alright Honey," she reassured. "You're my son. It's okay for you to see me like this. I wouldn't wear it for a stranger."

Her words were shocking. She wouldn't have worn it for my father either, I reflected upon her earlier comment. So, this was just for me. A private show. Almost a motherly striptease for her special boy. And an audience of potentially millions online, I quickly recalled the reason this was happening in the first place.

"I guess," I managed to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat, taking the phone from my pocket and holding it up as she once more adjusted the straps over her nipples, again pointless. "So, shall we try again?" I suggested.

"Let's!" Mom beamed, confidence emanating from her as she unnecessarily brushed past me on the way back to the bed. I watched from behind as she climbed up, seemingly accentuating the movement necessary to accomplish the task, her back arching to enhance her rear, legs spread wider than needed to steady her crawl across the mattress. My eyes were drawn to her ass, noting every dimple, every freckle. And as she moved directly under the overhead light, the darker skin around her asshole. My mother's asshole, staring at me from behind the most feeble of barriers. I groaned.

"Pardon?" Mom turned, taking up the now familiar position upon her knees, legs well spread.

"Nothing," I lied. "Just clearing my throat," I added, lifting the phone to once more capture her image. "Whenever you're ready."

She was more than ready. Now a professional at this, she went straight into poses. No longer attempting to cover her nipples, embracing her nudity, reveling in her newfound liberation. And why shouldn't she? She was beautiful. A middle-aged body that deserved to be shown, to be celebrated, and lusted after. And of course, she should feel confident. She was in her home. Her bedroom. With her son. Safe in the knowledge he was possibly the one man who wouldn't attempt to hit on her. To take advantage. To have his way. Because mothers and sons didn't do that, right? There was no sexual attraction between them! Nothing could come of it if there were. Because that was incest. And that didn't happen in real life. Not like this.

The hardness of my cock suggested otherwise. She must have known. There was no hiding the sideways lump in my pants, admittedly encouraged with rubs every time she looked away. Even the distinct mushroom of the head showed through the cotton of my tan-colored trousers. It was becoming unbearable, erect for an hour, my balls swollen with inspiration and desperate to be emptied. How many photos I took I had no idea, ruing they weren't on my phone. To have and to hold. To use when I saw fit.

Upon her knees once more, Mom drew the two lengths of the string together in her fist and pulled up, accentuating the exposed slit of her pussy. Her eyes dropped down to see the effect before once more meeting mine.

"I've seen models do something like this," she somehow defended the overtly sexual nature of her action, the string disappearing between her folds. "And this," she opened her mouth wide, poking her tongue out suggestively as if awaiting my cock, my cum. It was too much. For me; attempting to come to terms with the fact I was so attracted to my mother. For the website; the almost hardcore nature of the pose, far more extreme than the regular photos on display. But mostly for my cock; my pants were way too constrictive, the pressure leaving me pulsing and on the verge of orgasm. I managed to take the shot. Irrelevant in that the sight would forever be imprinted in my memory. Something to call upon for years to come when in the deepest of taboo fantasies. A masturbatory stimulus and nothing more. Because nothing was going to happen between us. Not now. Not ever.

With her remaining in the stance, I slowly lowered the phone and though less than willing, forced my eyes from my mother. She responded immediately, seemingly disappointed.

"What's wrong?" She asked as I turned my back and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Nothing," I was quick to explain my abrupt end to the photo shoot. "Just, I think we've probably got enough."

"Oh, okay," she was just as quick to once again join me. Her naked thigh against my leg, breast pressing my arm as she wrapped hers across my back to rest a hand on my opposing shoulder, balancing her body alongside mine. "Let's look at the photos," she almost whispered, so close to my ear.

I didn't need any more prompting, anxious to browse the collection myself. If only I were alone, I thought. Mere seconds all I'd need to truly pay homage to her beauty. To grasp my cock and honor her with the sincerest expression of flattery. An orgasm. Incestuously inspired.

I swiped backward through the shots with her breath upon my neck, her chin resting upon my shoulder. Mother and son looking through family photos, innocent but for the fact she was essentially naked. The scent of her rose to my nostrils. Intense fragrance from her hair and skin, and another far more natural perfume. One that I longed to have on my fingers, in my mouth, on my cock, and upon my sheets. Her free hand interrupted my swiping, scrolling back to comment on a particular photo, suggesting it for upload. But really, I heard not. My mind was reeling. No longer was I resisting the impure thoughts. I'd given up attempting to stifle the taboo desire. 'She's your mom dude,' could fuck off. I welcomed it. I'd discovered something illicit and exciting here today and there was no going back. Something seen couldn't be unseen and it was now a part of me, a forbidden and private part of me. Something I'd never share with anyone. Most importantly, her.

Mom's hand dropped from the phone as I saved the picture to the website, coming to rest on the most convenient location should she choose to touch the screen again, my thigh. My upper thigh. It was innocent of course. She had no realization her pervert of a son was erect. That for more than an hour he'd been encouraging said hardon. Selfishly rubbing it as she naively posed for him. Bordering on orgasm right under her nose. But now. Now as I flicked ever more rapidly back through the photos, its presence was undeniable. To me. To her? I hoped not. I dropped my eyes from the phone to my crotch, her hand so close. Too close.