It's All So Natural with Mom Ch. 01

What follows is an unlikely adventure of a mother and her adult son. You have to work a bit to get there. I hope the journey is worthy of the destination.

Here's how it happened.

***

"Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing. So fine a breath of wind might blow her away."

- Richard Thompson.

***

Holidays were crazy busy, but my Mom loves them nonetheless. Adores them. Brenda (her name, and what I sometimes call my Mom) glides along on the ever-changing currents of the year, and you can feel her change and move with the seasons. It's not something she puts too much energy into - we don't have a spirit circle carved into our living room floor or anything - but it was more just part of who she was. Natural. Connected to seasons, affected by the weather, in touch with nature, and her natural side.

But today, she was flying around the house, and I was doing everything I could to stay out of the way. I could tell she was very excited - her high-beams were on full display. No big deal. Not that unusual when your Mom had the kind of equipment she did. And with only a t-shirt and skirt on (all she ever really wore around the house) the nipples were leading the way of her hard-charging day. A Not-Yet-New-Year's-Eve party was tonight and there was still lots to get ready.

My Mom didn't come across as a Granola Momma (though she did love her some granola in the morning!) but was just naturally an easy, soft and comfortable woman. People told me that all the time. She liked and was liked by most everyone. Rarely was her browed furrowed, and often her laugh and smile drenched with light whatever room she was in. She was fundamentally beautiful, fresh-faced even at 40, a full embodiment of vigor and vitality. She was whole-person-attractive, and not just beautiful.

That's what the world saw. That's also what I saw. I love Mom and all she's done for us. She had an interesting job working at a nursery as the plant specialist. She was great at her job, so they were always great with her. While her means have been modest, they have been mostly stable, positive, and stress free.

I also love that everyone loves Mom. It turns out I get to be a bit of a minor celebrity in town just because I'm was her only son - only family really. So we're what Mom sometimes refers to as big fish in a very small pond, all because of her.

Mom's easy charm transfers well to me, I think. I'm not as attractive in every possible way that Mom is. I'm 21, big-and-strong by tough dude standards (which I am not, but several of my friends are), possess a great smile I inherited from Mom, and I love to laugh. I do it a lot. And even more fun, I can make other people laugh. Especially Mom. I can get her laughing until she pees. Kind of a regular goal of mine. In this regard, I usually get what I want.

So yeah, I know all the charms and wonder that everyone saw in my Mom. But I also saw what other saw as well - her beauty. And what they all saw casually masked, I saw up close.

I saw what I call tits, but what Mom calls her boobs. She was pretty casual - not flaunting or anything - but she moved through the house on occasion with limited support and gaps in her coverage, so to speak. So from an early age, I've seen what I have come to believe to be the most perfect breasts in the world. Neither flabby nor pert, these large breasts defined perfection. I actually knew exactly how large they were from a couple of years ago. "Damn, now I'm a D-cup - will these things never stop growing?" she once asked no one in quiet exasperation. "Why would you ever want them to stop growing?" I asked with the naïve appreciation of a boy of 16. She just smiled and walked away.

Pendulous. That was the word I've settled on. But it's harder to find the right word for the nipples. For that, I've settled on my favorite non-word: ginormous. These were more than the typical pencil eraser or gum drop nipples. These were a fucking mouthful for any man, let alone child. I've always been fascinated by them. I don't remember sucking them, but I know I once did, and in fact, know that I did later than most, stopping only when I got to pre-school (not my best day, in the scheme of things). But I never stopped being amazed at her nipples that were more like very large truffles than gum drops.

I've seen those nipples show their attention on many occasion. To be clear, nipples that strong need more than simple Playtex had to offer. And Brenda rarely worried about that. If she wore a bra at all, she'd wear comfortable bras that focused on support rather than stealth.

My mind started to wander to the other breasts I enjoy - the friends I share sexual intimacy and enjoyment. I don't have a girlfriend, nothing steady. I do have several very good friends who love to fuck. All do have large tits, I pondered. I guess that's my . . .

"Quit staring at my boobs and help me out!" she laughed loudly as I gazed at her chest and remembered other great pairs.

"Oh, sorry. Sure, what do you need?" I asked. She smiled and shook her head and looked down at her list.

"Well, there are a ton of things, so getting started on any of these would be great."

"Mom, we have about an hour's worth of setup to do, and it's all day until the party."

"I know. I'm just excited. Should be fun group tonight - if they all make it. Damn snow . . ."

Mom had been fussing for the last several days with a forecast of big snow dumping down. And it had - nearly 22 inches in the last three days, and more on its way. Fortunately this was a snow town, and folks were used to it. But more was coming, and it was certain to depress attendance.

I knew enough to get out of the maelstrom, so I finished my cereal and made for the door. "Well, let me take a shot at shoveling the walkways to start. I expect I'll need to do this again later, but I need to get a start at it now." I jumped up, quickly put my dishes in the dishwasher, and headed out the door. I actually liked shoveling snow, hated snow-blowers, and took on the challenge with a spring in my step.

Two hours later, I stumbled back inside, shedding ice-dripping garments in search of the living room fire. My hands were no longer capable of holding the shovel. As I stood before the fire, I finally thawed out enough to notice Mom staring at the TV watching the meteorologist bombast about Storm Surge 2017 (Nice tits on the weather lady, I thought. On a scale of 1-Mom, these were about an eight.)

When I finally really looked at Mom, I realized that something was up. She was looking at the screen with an empty face, as the TV talent said, "As untimely as it is, this storm is going to shut down the city tonight. High, gusty winds. Temperatures to drop below zero. And even with such low temps, we expect at least a foot in the next several hours, with three inches falling in the last hour alone."

"Folks - Stay home! This is not the day to be out at all."

I looked at Mom's face and saw what she saw: her party essentially had just been cancelled by this women with tits not nearly as nice as hers.

"But good news! This should clear in the next couple of days, just in time for New Year's Eve!"

"Good news," Mom said quietly. She looked up at me and smiled.

"How are the walks?"

"Well, they were clear an hour ago. I need to go shovel them in a couple of hours, I suspect."

"Naw. Just you and me for the party tonight. Let's get snowed in." There was a moment of deep sadness in her eyes - this was her favorite event of the year, and it just at that moment was taken from her.

And then she smiled. Every part of her changed in that moment. And the world was good again. It was a perfect example of the essential beauty mom brought to difficult moments.

With that, the entire tone in our house changed. She felt a very brief, deep moment of loss for a party she waited all year to enjoy, a party she worked intensely to make great (and it was a great party) but that could never be rescheduled or remade. Not during these precious holidays. It had taken 20 years for her to establish this party on the calendar of her friends-and-family circle. No changes were possible. Tomorrow was the Kerrigan's party, and New Year's was ALWAYS at the Juanita's. But for tonight's party, mom had to just let it slip away.

"Before we do get snowed in, let's figure out a way to cancel the party with class. Any ideas?"

In 10 minutes, we'd figured out our idea. I went outside and got the snow machine cleaned up and ready to go. Mom ran upstairs and got dressed in her Old Woman Time outfit (over her down parka) and we readied our parade. Mom had taken an old sheet and beautifully written "Party Cancelled - Happy New Year!" I tied an old toboggan to the back of the snow machine. Mom placed a box on the sled and tied a rope to the front to hold for leverage. By early afternoon, we were driving through our neighborhood and across town, Mom calling friends on her cell phone as we drove our colorful one-float parade past their house announcing the cancellation. Mom waived and talked to all of her friends as we meandered through the quiet beauty of the heavy snowfall. The wind and cold were brutal, but mom demanded we cover the entire course, our part of town filled with friends and now discarded guests.

An hour later, we were done - frozen and exhausted, we'd canvassed the neighborhood and let everyone off the hook before they had to decide. Everyone said the same thing, "Oh, we were planning on coming anyway," but you could feel the collective relief. Home again, home again, jiggity jig.

And then something very not-weird happened that, in retrospect, changed everything in my life.

We stood at the front door pulling off our wet clothes. We talked casually, laughed at the reactions we'd received and slowly shrunk ourselves to our nearly naked core. I stood there in my boxers and t-shirt. Mom was in her long johns - an old union suit she love to wear in the cold. It was too big, so consequently the snow had seeped in and frozen the cuffs of her feet and hands. She looked at me for a brief moment and then unbuttoned the buttons and let it slide down her shoulders.

Emerging from the wet, old red fabric inches from me was the beautiful curvilinear pinkness of my mother. It seemed to slide down her in slow motion, and she was revealed to me curve by curve, first a shoulder, then a breast, then a hip, then a calf. Down it went and, not nearly as slowly, up rose my cock.

And there she was, in her simple, natural glory. Sublime beauty that doesn't scream out but also never lets go, making it nearly impossible to look away. Mom stood before me, in full frontal nudity, her hands at her sides nearly framing her bushy crotch, her nipples sticking out about six feet, and her face lighting up the foyer.

"Let's just leave our wet clothes here. We can clean them up later," she said. And she just stood there. Sensing her waiting, I pulled off my shirt and quickly dropped my shorts. As I stood up, I felt an unusual sense of discomfort. My cock was now fully erect and pointing at Mom's tits.

I think I noticed her notice my rising staff - almost like a tic that came and went briefly. Then she stopped dead-still and looked for a very long moment at my cock. She looked at it very intently. It was as hard as it had ever been, fully erect and slightly bouncing with every one of my now-labored breaths. Mom had likely seen my dick many times here and there, but never fully erect, never standing at a thick, 9½ inches. And I had learned from my sexual acquaintances, I was VERY thick, too much so for some women, and highly desired by others. At that moment, it felt impressive.

This was clearly a moment. I was very high and not sure what was happening.

And then, Mom smiled a simple, natural smile, kissed me on the cheek, and told me she was headed to her shower. It was all casual, natural and a moment later, it was over. I was standing among a pile of steaming clothes sporting a boner for the ages, and Mom was bounding up the stairs, her generous but taut ass bouncing a single bounce of firmness with each step.

"I love you!" she said.

Her, perfectly natural. And me, hard as an iron skillet.

***

We both took exceedingly long showers. I took the time to relieve my pressures. Twice.

No place to go, tired and happy, we wondered into the family room together in our robes, fireplace crackling, and a beautiful snowy wonderland around us. The house was its "Company Best," and everything reeked of comfort. You could easily see how nasty it was outside, making it feel all-the-more-cozy inside.

Mom and I snuggled in. We took turns bringing over cookies, hot chocolate, bubbly water, outrageous finger food, and sweet goodies that kept us satiated. We clucked through a few topics new and old, including the topic Mom brought up rarely - my dad. Or my non-dad. Mom had never married, and my life emerged into hers as a central chapter without much lead-up. She knew my dad, and even liked him, but their contract was a short-term one of lust, and she knew he hadn't signed up for long-term love, let alone fathering a child. She was fine with that. Raising her son wasn't done alone, and my grandparents were a cornerstone of our life until they passed away a few years ago..

The topic of my dad came and went without energy or fanfare. I sometimes thought it was interesting that mom "fell so deeply so quickly" for someone, as she described it, which was different from her typical I-really-like-everyone style. But she clearly felt no loss or regret, nor did I.

And just as casually, we were talking about something else. Pollinator bees, new movies, new places to hike, top three desert island albums - it was a casual conversation that never hinted at the lost evening of merriment that the snow had stifled.

By late afternoon, the shadows outside were longer and the trays of food were but crumbs. We were almost snuggling on the couch together, mostly just sort of leaning on each other, when Mom reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a small, stylish tube. She pulled on one end and out slid a fat joint. The sweet stank immediately wafted up, and Mom held it in her hand silently.

"I was going to smoke this with Susan, but I don't think she'd going to make it."

"Too bad for Susan," I smiled.

"I know you do. And you know I do. But we've never gotten high together." A short silence. "Do you wanna?"

"Get stoned?" I asked? Mom leaned back and with an odd look on her face, said, "Yeah. What else?" And she smiled at me.

I smiled back with an ambiguous smile. "Sure," I said. I let the rest of the question slide away.

Once again, a very-not-weird thing happened. Not everyone could casually respond if their Mom asked them if they wanted to get high. But with Mom, that's just the way it was. I didn't smoke much - occasionally for losing myself in a video game or as a prelude to great sex - and I knew Mom smoked occasionally. I'd seen her glassy eyes at other parties. But it wasn't something that was big for either of us. But tonight seemed perfect.

She extracted a lighter from her other robe pocket and lit up. Two minutes later Mom and I were melting into the couch and quietly losing our minds. It was great.

We passed the blunt back and forth a couple of times. Once the weed kicked in, I started to marvel at the beauty of the joint. "Did you roll this?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm great at rolling joints. If I had a dollar for every great joint I'd rolled, I'd be rich."

I smiled back at her. "If I had a dollar for every time I thought about you," I trailed off and let the sentiment linger for a moment. She smiled at me in anticipation. " . . . I'd think about you a lot more!"

Mom looked at me for a moment, then looked out the window, and then burst out laughing. She fell off the couch onto the floor, once again in stitches. As she enjoyed the stupid little joke, she also revealed a short nightgown that was worthless at containing her excitable tits and trimmed-but-full bush. I looked quickly and saw that some pink protruded from the finely cropped fur, but I needn't have hurried as she never made any effort to cover herself. She just laughed and rolled on the floor.

She shortly got back up on the couch and snuggled in. "You really crack me up, you know that?"

I then went about tickling my mom's funny bone by making her laugh and laugh and laugh. I loved to do this, and she loved it too. It was mostly stupid, though I had a couple of very good punchlines and turns of phrase that spun off my otherwise-addled tongue. Both of us being very stoned helped considerably.

We enjoyed the next hour as the energy slowed, and we both held tight to each other. The room was warmer (or was it just us?) and we'd recently abandoned our robes (her in her shorty nightgown and me in boxers and t-shirt). At one point, Mom pulled a light cashmere throw over us, put her head into my shoulder and snuggled in like a spoon.

I nodded off briefly and came to with mom holding tightly to my arm across her tits and her ass pressed firmly back to my crotch. As she sighed her contentment, I noticed a slight change to the previous skin-on-skin equation. Without wanting to break the moment, I focused enough to be able to feel my cock had slipped out of the front of my boxers, and was semi-hard and touching Mom. As I focused attention, I also noticed that I wasn't feeling just skin, but something tickly and course. It was clear one moment later, as mom shifted slightly, that my cock had settled in to rest in her crotchal area. I remembered clearly now that Mom wasn't wearing any underwear. I was nestled with my cock near her pussy, it seemed. We were tight together. A simple adjustment wasn't going to work.

And for the very first time in my life, my mom's casual attitude about nudity was a problem for me. As many times as we'd tumbled and grappled and played with each other, as often as mom was casual with her tits and her immodesty, I'd never had her nakedness present itself in an uncomfortable way. For this moment I was very uncomfortable. And ever-so-paralyzed that my cock was about to grow.

So for the next 15 stoned-out minutes, I had a chance to think about it. My mind wondered through a series of feelings: fear (very short-lived, given my mom), intrigue, lust, modesty, and finally resignation. I was never weirded out by it, even when I was at my horniest self, as I wondered what fucking her would be like. "That's never going to happen, but wow, imagine that!" I thought. I didn't feel guilty about the thoughts and, as it turned out, perhaps didn't give it enough consideration.

As my mostly detached mind pondered the circumstances, my hardening cock had a more directive notion. It got harder and harder and found its way home. The next thing I noticed was that the skin I was feeling was getting wetter. And warmer. At about exactly the point where I wondered just exactly how close my cock was to Mom's pussy lips, I felt her shift slightly and sink down just a little onto my cock . . . just enough that the tightness of her pussy was completely obvious to me, and the largeness of my cock head was now completely obvious to her. We were both awake and we both knew it.

At this exact point, my mom looked over her shoulder at me and smiled, that same smile I seen countless times. Not a sexy smile. Not a nasty smile. A natural smile. A smile that said, "I'm so happy to be here right now." That smile said a lot of things, but it hid a secret for both of us. Because as mom smiled at me and said, "I love you," she pushed back enough to test exactly where my cock was between her legs. Feeling my cock now wedged at the opening of her hot cunt, my mind froze and I looked her straight in the eyes, with more-than-a-little panic.

Mom smiled an easy smile, then slowly closed her eyes, and after a very long pause with them closed, opened them to look me straight in the eyes, and give a little push. I felt her shift and anticipated her starting to get up off the couch.