Mother and Son Reunion

Something was happening between him and his mother. He was no expert on guy-girl stuff, but he certainly knew what "first blush" felt like—and this was it.

But what was really making Steve tremble was not that something was happening between them. It was that his mother wasmaking it happen. Or at least, that's how he was interpreting it.

"Got anything yet?" called Leanna. Steve jumped and cast his eye about the little bedroom. He could hear his mother puttering somewhere.

"Uh, no, still looking." Steve shuffled over to the chest of drawers and opened the bottom one, just to say he'd done it. He fingered the desultory remains of the "keep-it-at-the-cottage" clothing supply, buying a little time before he had to face whatever Leanna was cooking up between them. His father's moth-eaten Cowboys t-shirt was in there, and a puke-yellow hoodie with the words "Hammer Time" on the front.

"Come out! Got something heeeere," sang his mother from the main room. Steve pushed the drawer closed with his foot and wiped his sweaty hands on his legs. He went to meet her.

"What's up?" asked Steve. "Oh!" he exclaimed, when he saw that his mother was waving a small Christmas present at him. Light reflected off the foil wrapping paper in all directions. "What happened to the tree topper we were looking for?"

"Oh, we'll find something. Here! Open this! I couldn't wait!" Leanna was bouncing up and down.

Steve took the present from her. It was about the same shape and size as a book. "But I'm not ready with—"

"Ah-ah!" She marshaled him down on the couch and sat close beside him. "Are you kidding? You invited me here, Steve. You paid for my ticket! This... this is just a small thing," she said, twirling her hair. "I came across it in a box with some other odds and ends at home, and I thought it was, well..." she looked down at her legs, lost in the rumples and folds of her sweatpants. "Open it, anyway!"

Steve unwrapped the present carefully. He slipped his fingernail under the tape binding the thin cardboard box and popped the lid.

Steve's breath caught. Inside was a framed photograph. He was sure his mother would be able to hear his heart thudding harder in his chest and see the sweat beading at his hairline.

He recognized it immediately of course. It was the picture of him and his mother from eight years ago, taken at the cottage the summer of his eighteenth birthday. The one that Rachel had grabbed off Leanna's bookshelf in a spitting rage that fateful Christmas Eve and hurled across the room at her, scream-sobbing, "You don't fool me you bitch! I see you! I see you!" Steve had had to drag Rachel from the room and bundle her into the car. Two weeks later Steve and Rachel were on a plane to a new life without Leanna, short-lived as it was.

In the photo:

Steve and Leanna were standing in the cottage kitchen in their swimsuits. The evening light from the window behind them cast the whole scene in a rosy glow. Steve was striking a superhero pose in his navy trunks: legs apart, chest puffed, back straight, fists on hips, chin up, eyes slitted and serious. He looked every bit the part, 6 foot 4 and radiating the ignorant invincibility of his age. His dirty blonde hair was wet and mussed. On his lips, an unflattering (thought Steve) smirk.

Leanna was crowded against him, her body at a right angle to his. She was on the tips of her toes, extending her face up toward his jutting chin, lips puckered to plant a big cartoonish kiss. She was wearing the same tattered orange string bikini and cut-off jean shorts she wore all summer, every summer. Her hair was done up in a wild nest of a top knot. Her right arm was hidden behind Steve's back, but her fingers were visible creeping over the top of his shoulder. Her left hand was resting lightly against his nearly hairless chest (not so hairless now, Steve noted.) Leanna's skin was all-over gold in the soft light of magic hour.

His mother's breasts in the photo were well displayed. Her upper body was opened slightly toward the camera, offering a full view of her cleavage. Steve's elbow was nestled right between her tits. She was smearing her chest against him, as if using his elbow to scratch an itch.

Steve's father was behind the camera. It was the last photo he ever took of them before he was out of the family picture for good—so to speak. Steve had shuffled into the kitchen one morning not long after they'd returned from the cottage that summer to find his mother staring dumbly at the note his father had left. It had one word on it: "Goodbye."

"I bet you thought that photo was gone for good, eh?" said Leanna quietly beside him. She was sitting very still. Steve could feel her eyes on him and the heat radiating from her.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I hadn't really thought..." Steve trailed off as he continued to stare at the photo. He gripped the wooden frame to stop his fingers from shaking. The meaning here was descending heavily over him in the terrifying silence. His father had left. Rachel had left. And in his hands, this photograph. Beside him, his mother.

Leanna traced her forefinger slowly along the top of the picture frame. "This is the original," she said. "I made a copy of it for myself too. So we can both look."

Steve did not know what to say. This was a moment like no other. It wouldn't take much. He could look at her. He could touch his finger to her finger. He could shift his weight half an inch and the deal would be sealed. His blood roared in his head and his cock throbbed beneath the picture frame in his lap.

Yet he deflected.

"Thanks mom," he said at last. "This is just... it's really special." And without looking at her, Steve rose from the couch and went to the mantel where he gently placed the photo, angling it just so toward his mother.

When Steve turned to face her, he felt a trace of coolness in her look. She regarded him for a moment and then smiled. "I'm glad you like it," she said, standing. "I thought it would be a good way for us to... I don't know... restart? Pick up where we left off?" She walked toward him, fiddling again with the zipper on her top. "I mean—pick up where we left off... before Rachel?"

Steve knew the full-body, lingering hug was a foregone conclusion. Leanna pressed into him and they wrapped their arms around each other. Steve was thankful for her baggy sweats; his modestly firm dick was not likely to be felt through the bulky cotton.

"Thanks again, mom, really. For everything." He slipped the embrace and moved haltingly toward the kitchen. "Cheese omelette for dinner sound ok?"

Leanna smiled with her eyes closed and stretched her arms lazily to the ceiling, arching her back and pushing out her chest. Her top rode up, displaying a band of soft, bare belly. "Ab, so,lute-ly!"

***

Steve woke suddenly in the middle of the night, eyes wide in the dark. He felt a surge of lusty adrenaline course through him, and he knew it would not be easy to get back to sleep. He would have to take care of himself first.

He rolled over, and when he saw the dark bulk of the chest of drawers in front of him, he froze.

Could it be? What if...?

He frowned at the bottom drawer. He had to know.

Steve slunk from the bed and knelt before the chest. He slowly opened the drawer. It was too dark to see the contents, but he suspected—rightly so, it turned out—that he'd know what he was looking for to feel it.

Under the hoodie he'd seen earlier that evening, he discovered a pair of soft, cut-off jean shorts. Ratty threads tickled his wrists as he delicately unfolded the garment, and out fell his mother's bikini top.

Steve brought the clothing to his face and inhaled, first tentatively, then with gusto. Cedar and sunshine. Cold, clear lake water. Woodsmoke. Coconut oil. His mother.

Steve placed his discovery on the floor with reverence and climbed back into bed. He lay on his back, legs spread, and fished his dick out of his boxers. It was over in less than two minutes.

***

"What's with the smile?" asked Leanna the next morning, unable to keep the slyness out of her own question. "Merry Christmas, by the way." She was leaning against the kitchen counter two-handing her mug of coffee. She was in her yoga gear again.

Steve approached and drew his arms from behind his back, revealing his present to her. He'd rolled the cut-offs and bikini into a ball, then tied the package with a scrap of green ribbon stolen from the gift she'd given him.

Leanna's eyes widened and her whole body stiffened. Steve could tell she was genuinely shocked. At first her mouth made an "O" shape as she looked down at Steve's offering. She put her coffee down slowly, and when she took the material in her hand, her sly smile returned.

"Wow," she breathed. "Just, wow. I mean, of course. Where would it have gone, right?" She held the shorts in one hand and the bikini top in the other, looking from one to the other.

Steve cleared his throat. "I thought we could, um, do one of those, uh, photo re-enactments?" Steve had rehearsed this part many times in the bathroom this morning. Now it was really real.

Leanna looked at him expectantly. Steve shot a glance toward his bedroom before continuing.

"I found my old trunks in there too, down in that bottom drawer. We could, uh, you know, get into our swimsuits and take a picture in the same place. In the same position. And put the photos side by side in a frame..."

Leanna leapt suddenly into Steve's arms. "Whoah!" he laughed, struggling for balance. He felt the shorts slap against his back as his mother's arms clamped around him.

"Oh baby, what a wonderful surprise!" she said into his shoulder. "I love, love, love that idea! So fun! Thank you, Stephen!"

She pulled back and gazed up into his face. He looked down at her smiling eyes. The width of her bare shoulders and the swell of her breasts in her yoga tank formed a great, creamy expanse that filled the bottom of Steve's periphery. He held her eyes steadily. "You're welcome mom."

The day passed easily. There was a markedly different sort of comfort between them. Steve felt content to leave his mother alone, and she offered him the same quiet distance.

Steve went for a long walk while Leanna did her yoga routine. They curled up in different parts of the cottage and read magazines. They took turns refilling coffees and staring out at the sparkling snow. They hardly spoke. Neither appeared anxious.

And then, late in the afternoon as the sun dipped low, Leanna casually picked up the conversation.

"How are we going to set up your phone for the photo?" she asked.

Without missing a beat, Steve rose from the couch and gestured toward the kitchen table. "Well, I thought we could just build a base of books here on the table to get to the right height. I'll prop up the phone, and you can stand in the shot so I can get the frame right. Then I set the timer, and away we go!"

Leanna nodded and looked around the kitchen, studying the cabinetry as if they were planning a full-scale renovation. Steve's smile twitched.Now the nerves were showing.

"Is it time then?" asked Leanna.

"Yep, I think so." Steve looked outside. The sun seemed to be in the right place, just about to drop below the horizon, but the seasonal difference would likely alter the look of the photo significantly. Silly details, thought Steve, all things considered.

Steve and Leanna went to their rooms to change. Steve laid his clothes carefully on the bed and stepped into his old trunks.

The material felt good against his skin, but it strained at his hips terribly. He shimmied it up all the way. He'd never considered himself to have much of a gut, but his old trunks certainly emphasized the extra pounds he'd put on over the years. His cock and balls were snugged in tight.

He practiced his pose a few times. There was no mirror in the room, but he imagined he cut a decent figure. He was only 26, for fuck's sake.

He took his phone into the kitchen and started piling books on the table as he waited for his mother. His heart was pounding good and hard, and his fingers shook as he flipped through his phone settings to get the camera timer sorted out.

He heard Leanna approach from behind, but he did not turn. Steve got the sense she was expecting him to look and appraise. And why wouldn't she? The train was already so far down the track. For whatever reason though, Steve wanted to play innocent just a little while longer. He kept his attention trained on his phone.

Leanna seemed to pick up on his vibe, and instead of showing off, she adopted his business-like demeanour.

"Got it figured out?" she asked. "What can I do?" Steve was aware of her closeness, and of acres and miles and curve upon curve of exposed skin.

"Um, why don't you grab the original photo and set it here on the table so we can use it as our reference?" He hadn't planned it, but Steve's mission for Leanna sent her walking back into the main room. He looked at her ass and his muscles seized up.

Jesus Christ. His extra effort that morning had paid off. Before he'd bundled up the shorts, he'd spent a few minutes strategically "expanding" a few of the holes that had already started in the fabric of the seat.

One in particular was spellbinding. He'd widened a four-inch slash on the left side. Now, with every step she took, Steve could see the deep crease where his mother's ass cheek met the top of her thigh. And since she was panty-less, he saw nothing but skin, skin, skin.

Leanna reached the mantel and stood for a few seconds studying the photo. Steve knew she was allowing him a longer look. He held his breath. Her bare back was incredible. The stringy loops of her bikini dangled loosely down, as did the threads of her shorts. They twitched against her thighs.

And then, dear God, she bent over! Steve had to steady himself so he didn't knock over his makeshift tripod. Everything stretched out to max taught-ness as Leanna picked at one of her toenails, her shorts straining over her ass and the rip on the left side turning from a horizontal slash to a football shape.

Leanna righted herself and brought her hands to her head to reset her top knot. It looked remarkably similar to her hair in the photo. (Steve's hair was twice its photo length.) She twisted her body slightly to give Steve the quarter-profile of her side boob. Fucking incredible, he thought, with her arms raised like that.

Steve returned to his immediate task with an exaggerated, noisy fumbling, cueing his mother to come back without "catching" him ogling her. She put the photo down on the table beside him.

Steve looked through his phone and thought he'd done a pretty good job with the shot, empty of people as it was. It would never be the same, since his father had taken the original photo with a real camera. But he wanted to make a show of hewing to the details for his mother's sake—for the sake of their performance.

"Alright," he said, squinting into the phone as it sat atop the teetering stack of books. "Now you go in there."

Leanna stepped into the frame. This was his first time seeing his mother "in costume" from the front.

Her tits were fairly bursting out of her bikini. She looked down at herself and plucked at the tiny orange triangles, positioning them just right, then re-positioning them, tucking her flesh into the fabric, then re-positioning yet again.

Leanna looked suddenly into the camera lens and smiled at him from the other side of the phone. "Am I in the right place?" she asked innocently. Mock innocently.

"Um, yeah, hang on—ok step to the right." Leanna stepped. "Sorry, uh, my right, your left." Leanna stepped the other way. "Wait, too much, half a step back? Shit, sorry, not backwards, back the way you came..."

Leanna danced a jig at this silliness and laughed, her tits bouncing every which way. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and she brought her hands to her tits to get them under control.

She looked at Steve again through the phone, her face flushed. Steve could see she'd applied some lipstick to match the colour of her fingers and toes. Leanna allowed her fingers to slip slowly down from her breasts to her thighs, then she brought her hands back up to rest on her hips. It was quite a show.

"Here?" she asked, still looking at him through the lens.

"Yep, that's good," croaked Steve. "Now, uh, turn to your right and, uh, do the thing you were doing in the photo."

Leanna turned and got her feet into position, rising to the tips of her toes. She had to balance with her right hand on the counter (soon to be Steve's back). She slowly tilted her face up, closed her eyes, and puckered her lips for the kiss. Finally, she brought her left had up to invisible-Steve's chest and hovered it gently in the air. She froze in this position.

"Nice," breathed Steve. "Hold it now, just setting the timer—first one just for practice—hang on—ok—I'm coming in!"

Steve deked out from behind the camera setup and stepped into place, pressing his chest into Leanna's suspended left hand. He felt her right arm drift onto his back; her fingers settled languidly over his shoulder.

He slowly drew his arms up and pushed his elbows out to get his fists on his hips. He was already feeling his mother's tits on him and he wasn't even halfway into position. He felt her adjusting herself to accommodate him, wriggling her upper body to surround his elbow with her tits.

The timer went off and the photo was taken. Steve broke away immediately, even as his mother hung there in the air a few moments longer.

"Ok, great, let's check it!" said Steve. He walked around to the phone and pulled up the pic. Leanna joined him. Looking at the screen together was an ideal opportunity for physical contact, but Steve noted Leanna was keeping her distance now that they were no longer "acting" (as themselves).

Steve held the original photo next to the phone screen. "Wow," said Leanna. "That's actually pretty damn close!" She was right. It was extremely accurate. But not quite there yet.

"I forgot to wet my hair!" Steve went to the sink and tossed a few handfuls of water on his head and rubbed it in.

"Let me," said Leanna. He turned to face her. She put her hands into his hair, mussing it this way and that. With her eyes fixed on his hair, he was free to stare down at her chest. He could see the shape of her nipples through the thin fabric of the tiny triangles of her bikini. He felt his dick straining in his trunks and gulped. With shorts this tight, it would be obvious. He wanted to see his mother look down at him, but she didn't. "Perfect," she said as she finished his hair.

"Ok, let's go again," said Steve as he reset the phone. His hair dripped onto the books.

Leanna skipped into position. They were both supressing smiles as they got into the game's groove. Leanna played with her bikini some more, tugging at the outside edges of the triangles.

"How's this?" she asked, before puckering her lips and setting her hands in the air.

"Nailed it," said Steve. "Ok, here I come!"

Steve slipped his body between Leanna's hands and felt her snuggle tight against him. She was rubbing her tits on his elbow more aggressively this time. He could hear and feel her hot breath on his neck and chin as it whistled through her lips.

The timer went off. Steve stayed where he was and looked down into his mother's upturned face, her lips still comically puckered. She sensed him looking and snorted a laugh.

"One more time?" asked Steve. Leanna played her hand over his chest. He slowly slipped out of her dancing fingers. His dick was really pulsing now. He wanted it to be obvious. He wanted his hard-on to be fuckingabsurd in his tight little swim trunks.

"Third time's the charm, right?" said Leanna. "Let's review that one first though."