tagIncest/TabooThe Claw Foot Tub

The Claw Foot Tub


The first time I tried to spy on mom taking a shower, it ended in disaster. I was standing on an aluminum ladder. After walking into the bathroom, my Mom walked over to the window to let some fresh air in before she started her shower. I panicked and tried to climb down the ladder. I misplaced my foot and sent the ladder crashing down onto some aluminum garbage cans. Back in those days we didn't have the plastic totes that they use for garbage pickup nowadays.

The sound from those garbage cans sounded like percussion drums from a marching band. My mom looked out the window and saw me hanging from the window ledge. She ran out into the backyard and managed to push the heavy ladder back up so that I could climb down safely. After the danger was over and I was safely on the ground, my mother asked, "What were you doing up there?"

Before I could answer, she spotted the shattered remains of my 35mm camera that she gave to me for Christmas. She picked up the pieces and told me to go inside. I felt ashamed of what I did. Earlier that afternoon, we were both at a friend's house for a birthday party. My mother was wearing a two piece swimming suit. She was splashing around in the water with all of us. One of my friends kept antagonizing me by saying things like, "Your mom has nice tits. Is she a real blonde? Is your mom going to strip for us?"

He was being a jerk but it ignited some smoldering flames that I had kept hidden until then. My mom often went braless like a lot of women during the sixties. I didn't realize it at the time but my mom also harbored secret desires. Whenever I stared at her untethered breasts floating around inside of her blouse, her nipples would grow hard in front of me. A thought would pop into my head, "Hey mom. Lift up your blouse and show me your tits." I never did actually say that but the urge was there.

Back then being a single mom still held a stigma. People would often ask, "Where is his father?"

I didn't sleep much that night. I was expecting my bedroom door to burst open. Nothing happened. The light from my mother's bedroom went out at the normal time. The house was silent after that. The following morning I stared at my breakfast. I was unable to look my mother into her face.

My mom had gotten me a job at the office where she worked at. I delivered mail and ran errands for the office. We both traveled to work together in the same car. There was an awkward silence going to work and coming home the following day. I started smoking as soon as I was old enough to buy a pack of cigarettes against my mom's wishes. My mom absolutely hated it. When I got really nervous I would light up a cigarette. I took the pack out of my shirt pocket inside of the car only to have it smacked out of my hand by my mom.

After dinner, I retreated to the sanctuary of my bedroom. My mom came into my bedroom with a birthday present in her hands. I had completely forgotten that it was my birthday. I felt even more horrible than I did the previous night. I did a despicable thing to my own mother and she still got me a birthday present. I took the box out of her hands and opened the lid. Inside was a wooden handle that was tied to some fishing line.

The note that was attached to the handle said, "Happy birthday son. Pull on handle."

I pulled on the handle. The fishing line ran out of the gift box. It was nearly invisible in the dim light of my desk lamp. It didn't dawn on me that the other end was tied to my mother's robe. I tugged on the wooden handle. My mother's robe opened up revealing her bare breasts and a thick upside down triangle in between her legs. The color of the triangle matched the color of the hair on her head. It looked like soft velvet.

I was a pretty short teenager. My mother took a step towards me. She always wore a necklace with some kind of white stone in it. The chain positioned the necklace perfectly in her cleavage. It hung where her two breasts met. My face was pressed up against it when she hugged me.

She led me back to my bed. Many years later when my wife asked me about my first time, I told a well-rehearsed lie about a girl I knew in high school. The truth of the matter was that I lost my virginity to my mother that night. My memory consists of flashed scenes not a continuous movie. The drugs that the nursing home doctors give me for pain, cloud my thoughts.

I remember being so nervous that I couldn't form an erection at first. My mother patiently sucked on my penis and rubbed it until it was erect. All I could see looking downwards was my mother's auburn hair and the antique hair clip she always wore to keep her long hair out of her eyes. I watched as her head bobbed up and down.

When I was sufficiently hard, she sat down on top of me. I remember a warm wet feeling surrounding my penis. She grabbed my hands and guided them over her tits. They were completely soft and smooth except for the nipple area. From my vantage point, she looked like she had EE size breasts but in reality they were more like a comfortable D cup size. My mom did all the work. She bounced up and down on top of me making the bed springs squeak.

Her breasts bounced wildly around as she grunted. As she was bouncing up and down, she held both of my hands. The closer she got to climaxing, the harder she squeezed my hands. The actors who role play on the internet, never quite capture the slight nuances that a real life mother son encounter entail.

My mother's body shuddered. With one last gasp of air, she climaxed and then collapsed on top of me. My entire crotch was soaked with a sticky white milky liquid that she had deposited. We lay there for a while until we both recovered. My mom got out of bed led me into the bathroom. She turned on the water. I stared at her crotch while the tub was filling. The soft velvet in between her legs was dripping with fluid. Some of what was oozing out was semen from me while most of it was her juices.

For my mother, the most sensual part of our encounter wasn't the actual sex itself. She enjoyed the bath more. The house we lived in had an iron claw foot tub in the bathroom that was so big that two people could comfortably sit in it at the same time. After the tub filled up, we both got into the warm bath water. I picked up a bath sponge and started to wash my mother's body. She leaned back and closed her eyes as I washed her.

The fatigue of being a single mom and all of the stress of her job caught up with her. She drifted off to a deep sleep. I pulled the drain plug and let the cooling bathwater drain. I rinsed all the soap off of her body with shower wand and sat there staring at her.

I gently shook her leg and said, "Mom wake up. It's time to go to bed."

She murmured something incomprehensible and then drifted back into a deep sleep. My wife also fell asleep a lot in the bathtub. The bubbles and the warm water was her way of relaxing. I couldn't let her stay in the bathtub all night because it was winter. I had no choice but to carry her to her bedroom. I was much smaller than she was despite my age. I managed to get her as far as my bedroom without bumping her head on the doorway. I laid her down on my bed and climbed in under the covers. My mom rolled over on top of me.

I could feel her nipples pressing up against me. Her triangle rested upon my crotch. Even though I got hard from the sensation, I didn't slide in between her legs. I just lay there with my arms around her in a bear hug. I pulled off her hair clip and let her long blonde hair fall down her back.

There is nothing more relaxing than having a pair of warm breasts pressed up against my chest as I sleep. After I got married, I insisted that my wife sleep without her top on every night. Although my wife had bigger breasts than my mom, they never felt as soft and warm as my mom's tits did that night. All I have to keep me warm in the nursing home is a thick comforter my daughter made for me. The nursing home won't allow me to have an electric blanket.

My mother and I took baths together every night in that claw foot bathtub until I went off to college. I met my wife there during my freshman year. She had auburn hair like my mom. When I moved into the retirement home, all of my stuff was put into a storage locker. Towards the back of the locker up against the back wall, there is a flat rectangular box. Inside of the box there is family portrait. I had a friend of mine who was an amateur photographer shoot the picture.

My mother and I are completely nude. I'm standing next to her with my head only coming up to her breasts. We are both smiling. Her nipples are at full attention and I have a full erection. She is wearing her favorite necklace. I have my hand around her waist and she has her arm around my shoulders. I don't know how my kids will react when they clean out the locker after I die but I can't bear to destroy the portrait.

I had the white stone pendant incorporated into my watch face that I always wear. The nursing home director wanted to take my watch away from me because of the theft problem at the nursing home. I put up a fight to the point where they allowed me to wear it. The watch is so unique that it would be easy to spot if anyone tried to steal it and sell it.

All I have left are memories.

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