Ticks and Leeches

Her breathing measured, she remained asleep as I felt my cock involuntarily twitch, reveling in the anonymity of its arousal. I relented and pushed myself slightly into her and the softest of sighs emanated from her mouth. Did she know it was me? I moved again, rubbing my cock between her buttocks, her crack accommodating my length perfectly as though we were made for each other. A hot dog in a bun. It was then I came to my senses.

What the fuck was I doing? She had no idea it was me. She was asleep. I was her son. The last person in the world she'd expect to be secretly rubbing himself against her ass like a common pervert on the subway. The trust I was betraying. To be essentially abusing her without consent. I felt disgusted. More so when I thought of my recent behavior. Jacking off in her house to stolen images. Ogling her ass, her pussy. What kind of person was I? Not this, surely. I wrenched my groin from her body and withdrew my arm where she'd still been embracing it. The movement awakened her with a start before she realized where and with whom she was.

"Did we fall asleep?" She sleepily inquired, rubbing her eyes to emphasize the fact.

"Yeah," I concurred, rising with my back to her to conceal my erection. The clock on her bedside table read 8p.m. and my stomach was reminding me we were overdue a meal. "What say I drive into town and pick up something to eat?" I suggested as I headed for the door between our rooms as Mom turned on the light. Making it and concealing my lower half in the doorway as I looked back for her response.

"That'd be nice Honey," she smiled, her hair plastered flat on one side of her head, eyes sleepy. Her tank top had twisted and one boob showed more of itself than I assumed she cared to display. She had never looked more beautiful and I hated myself for how I'd been regarding her. "Maybe I'll have a shower whilst you're gone," she yawned.

I found my car keys and left the parking lot, one other car in residence. The 'Bates Motel' obviously not doing a roaring trade this time of year. Five minutes down the road and I made the decision to delete the photos of Mom from the restaurant. I was living in a dream land. An unhealthy one at that. No, I'd remove the temptation from my life. Nothing was ever going to happen. She'd done nothing to lead me on. Nothing to suggest how I felt was reciprocal. All she'd done was be my mother. And how had I repaid that? By rubbing my cock against her. No, those photos were gone. It was then I realized I didn't have my phone.

I could see it beside her bed where I'd placed it when she'd asked me to lie with her. I felt my stomach drop as I thought of her opening it. She'd said she was having a shower. How long did that take? I was going to be gone for half an hour at least depending how long I had to wait for food. Was it opened on her pictures? She knew my pin, 3253. The numbers for the letters Dale. 'Always has been. Always will be,' I'd said countless times in her presence. I couldn't risk it. I pulled the car up and turned back toward the motel.

*

I expected her to be in the shower so didn't go to her door, deciding to use the interconnecting door to access her room. When I skirted the front of my car and bypassed her window, I saw that she'd drawn the drapes. But not completely. A slither of light crept through the gap and I absently looked in to see her still upon the bed, seemingly having gone back to sleep. And then her hips moved.

On her stomach, her legs stretched out straight, the movement was awkward and I for a moment was unclear why she did it? About to head back to her door, it happened again and I paid closer attention. Everything I'd said to myself in the car, in her room, went out the window as I stood in the dark and peeped. It wasn't 'unclear.' It was obvious. Her left arm lay under herself, clearly down the front of her leggings. The up and down movement of her ass was constant and if I needed any further evidence of what my mother was doing, her free hand reached around and entered the rear of her pants.

My mother was masturbating.

I felt giddy as I stood and watched. My cock, as if mocking me for being all moralistic not twenty minutes prior, immediately swelled with pride. I could feel my jaw drop and was helpless to stop it, nor was I seemingly capable of preventing my hand moving to the front of my pants. Her face was aimed away from me but I doubted she'd be able to see me through the space regardless. With impunity I watched as her grinding increased, her leggings half way down over her buttocks, the hand on her ass working as hard as the one below. My god, I marveled. Was she fingering her asshole?

I saw her legs twitch, spasms pass through her body, and with a final shuddering, her movement came to an abrupt end. I wondered how long I could stand there? Voyeuristically watching my mother, a hand caressing my cock through my pants. The answer was provided by headlights entering the lot and I quickly headed toward my room to avoid closer scrutiny by the car pulling up. Once inside I went to the interconnecting door and knocked. No answer. Opening, I half expected to see her still on the bed, post orgasm euphoria greeting me with open arms. Instead I heard the sound of the shower and it burst my incest bubble.

That display wasn't for me. She had thought me long gone. I picked up my phone and quietly went back to my room and to the car. I sat there a moment looking at the unlock screen of my phone ready to delete the photos. "But why was she masturbating?" I asked myself. "Why now?" I questioned as I slipped the phone back in my pocket and once more headed into town.

*

"You're wearing that?" I queried when Mom finally met me in the parking lot the next morning.

She looked down at herself and seemed taken aback.

"What's wrong with it?"

I looked her up and down. A mid-thigh denim skirt that I couldn't recall her ever wearing, a tank top similar to the one from the previous day but dare I say, smaller. She did have a straw cowboy hat for sun protection and the hiking boots she wore looked adequate. It was the skirt I was skeptical about.

"A skirt. For hiking?" I questioned.

"Oh, it's not that far we have to walk," she stated, pausing. "For memory."

"That's not how I remember it," I countered. Dad's 'secret' fishing spot was on a trail off a trail as far as I could recall. I knew the starting point and though it had been many years since I'd been there, I figured it wouldn't be hard to find. We'd worked out it had been five years since Mom had last done the walk with my father. The land couldn't have changed that much in the time between.

The campsite where the trail began was deserted. We were early so that wasn't surprising, expecting to be wrapped up in a matter of hours and back at the motel to check out at twelve. I packed a backpack with extra water and food just in case, and with Dad securely tucked away beside some trail mix, Mom and I headed off into the woods.

*

"Do you remember any of this?" I climbed up onto a large boulder hoping to see further down the overgrown hiking trail.

Mom sat down on a fallen log and took a long draught of the water bottle she held before answering. Taking off her hat, she wiped her sweaty brow and shook her head.

"I told you, it's all overgrown. Everything looks different. I don't even know if we're on the right path," she admitted.

I was positive we were. Only two leading off from the campsite. But I was beginning to think we may've missed the secondary trail we needed to be on.

"Well we've been walking for nearly an hour and I don't even hear the sound of the river," I stated. "I don't remember it being this far before the turn-off Mom." I climbed back down from the rock and approached her, accepting the bottle when she held it out to me. Her legs were parted and without making it obvious, I took the opportunity to peek up her skirt, the flash of white underwear. "I say we go on for five more minutes and if we don't hit something we recognize, turn back."

To her credit, Mom was taking it all in her stride. Fifty two years old, she wasn't exactly a senior citizen but she wasn't a spring chicken either. Knowing she regularly walked to keep fit, I wasn't surprised she was doing so well, but to my shame I had expected her to have complained before now. I admired her.

Some areas of the trail had been washed away by rain. Little upkeep saw grass overgrowing, in places waist deep. Leading, I was on the verge of calling it and heading back when I saw a familiar rock formation and scratches pointing to a dividing trail.

"Oh, thank God," I remarked as I turned to tell her the good news. Sweaty, she came up beside me and as she placed her hands on hips and breathed out a sigh of relief, the fact she wasn't wearing a bra was now obvious. Her white tank top, made of what looked to be microfiber or bamboo had gone partially transparent with the sweat. If she had a problem with it, she wasn't letting on. In fact, one could say she was highlighting her boobs as she arched her back, pushing out her chest. Her nipples stood out, not erect but pink behind the material, her large areola clearly visible. I managed to make it seem I wasn't looking but to hell with my moral debate, I took in my fill.

When we finally reached Dad's fishing spot, it was already nearing eleven o'clock and it was obvious we weren't getting back by midday.

"They won't charge us for another night, will they?" Mom questioned as she stretched her back, her bust pushing hard once again against her almost transparent top.

"I don't know, you're friends with her!" I squinted in the sun, giving me ample opportunity to admire her breasts.

"Well I wouldn't say we're friends," Mom scoffed, admiring something more wholesome, the scenery.

And it was worthy of admiration. So secluded. A sandy bank on the bend in the river. A rocky outcrop upon which we stood that gently sloped down into the clear water. We could've been the only two people left on Earth, such was the serenity.

"So how do we do this?" I asked Mom, pulling out the box containing Dad's ashes.

"I guess we just say a few words and tip him out into the water."

I waited for Mom to begin a eulogy and I think she was doing the same.

"Ok, well. Dad," I addressed the box. "We thought we knew you but you proved us wrong. We did love you though and no doubt we had some good times here, so we hope you find some solace in your final resting place."

I tipped the box up and unexpectedly a plastic bag fell to the rock at my feet. Mom began laughing and it went a great deal to lightening the mood.

"You didn't realize the ashes were in a bag?" she chuckled to herself.

"I really hadn't thought about it," I confessed, lifting the clear bag up and opening it. Second attempt and standing over the water, I tipped out the contents just as a gust of wind swept the surface of the river. The ashes caught in the breeze and rather than falling into the water, blew into the reeds and onto the muddy ground below. I immediately looked at Mom wary she'd be disappointed with my performance. Her face however glowed before she burst into another round of laughter, a hand covering her mouth as she possibly considered the appropriateness of her behavior.

"Oh well, it's probably where he belongs," she regained her composure before setting down upon the rock below and stretching out her legs.

I tucked the box and bag back into the backpack and joined her, watching the slow flow of the river.

"It IS beautiful here," Mom remarked and leaned back on her elbows. The action caused her bottom to slide down the rock some and her skirt rose with the movement. It could surely not have been intentional, but a triangle of white panty containing the bulge of her pussy appeared above the hem and I did my best to not stare directly at her indiscretion.

"You've got that right," I concurred. "We should've brought our swimsuits."

"Mmm," Mom agreed and I hoped she'd suggest we swim in our underwear instead. Or more preferable, naked! I certainly wasn't going to suggest it, lest she think me overly lecherous.

"It's so quiet," she sighed before looking in my direction, catching my eye. "We could be the only people in the whole world!" She almost whispered, echoing my earlier thought and the way she said it had me questioning her feelings towards me. Was she thinking along my lines? If we confessed our desire to each other here, acted upon it. Would anyone else ever find out?

"I, I want to..." I began before Mom's eyes drifted from mine to look down the river. I followed their direction and saw what had distracted her.

The man was still some distance as he paddled a canoe toward us and his appearance caused me to mimic a banjo and hum the chords from the movie Deliverance.

"Oh don't," Mom laughed as she pulled her skirt back down her legs as she rose from the ground. It told me she'd been aware how much leg she was showing. Leg? No. Pussy! I stood with her as he neared and headed toward our bank.

"Howdy," the interloper greeted us and we exchanged pleasantries. "Y'all come up from the East campsite?" He quizzed through broken teeth and an impressive gray beard that he'd surely been cultivating for half a century. When we confirmed we had he seemed troubled. "Don't get too many tourists this time o' year. Too dang hot. Sweaty," he added and I didn't like how his eyes drifted to my mother's chest. "Y'all best check y'ur boots fer critters! We's got leeches as big as y'er arm. Ticks too. Bastard's they is! Gov'ment's put Lyme disease in 'em! Yep. You check y'ur britches. Don't want no Lyme disease that's fo' shaw!"

And with the warning he pressed his paddle into the rock and pushed himself back into the meandering flow of the river.

"Yep, ticks and leeches," he spoke more to himself than us as he departed without a goodbye. "That's all we's good fo' round here. Goddamn ticks and leeches."

Mom and I looked at each other, mouths equally as agape as we prevented our laughter.

"Well that was something," I remarked and gladly out of earshot of the old man, Mom relented, clutching her stomach as she laughed. I repeated the banjo music and she hugged my arm to stop as we made our way off the rock and back toward the trail.

"I'm kinda glad we didn't go swimming," I admitted as we crossed the sandy bank toward the path.

"Do you think he was serious?" Mom asked, grimacing. "About the leeches?" She stopped to look down at her legs.

"I'm more concerned about the ticks to be honest," I admitted. "All that long grass we've walked through. He's right about the Lyme disease."

"What that the Government created it?" Mom laughed.

"Well I don't know about that. But it's definitely a worry."

I looked at Mom and her manner had changed, an air of unease governing her demeanor.

"Come on, let's get going. We can check ourselves when we're back at the motel," I proposed.

We set a quicker pace heading back than we'd done coming. Mom again powered through and I admired her more by the second. It was more than half an hour into our journey when she called me to pause.

"I have to pee!" She matter-of-factly stated and I stopped to look back at her behind me.

"Ok, well it's still another twenty minutes to the campsite at least. You think you can hold it?"

She rubbed her thighs together and a grin came to her mouth. "Nup!"

It was almost as if she was asking me permission to go to the bathroom and it strangely had my cock twitching behind my shorts.

"Ok, well. Pick a bush!" I laughed and she looked around before doubling back and rounding a fallen tree that lined the trail. I leaned back against a boulder and took a much-needed draught from the water bottle as I made a point of not following her progress.

She made it difficult. Only meters away on the other side of the log, she ducked her head down and disappeared out of sight. Her top half did anyway. Seemingly completely unaware the log rested on an angle to the ground, I was freely able to see her hiking boots and calves below the moss-covered wood. When the rounded cheeks of her bottom unobscured by underwear came into view, I felt almost lightheaded. And then came the stream.

It was all I needed, another fetish to add to my list. Not only had I discovered an obsession with incest in the past week. Now the sight of a woman urinating had my cock hardening with desire. Or was it just my mother? The vision of Mom pissing in public. In a secluded wood yes. But still out in the open. I struggled to swallow my water as the flow of urine ran back down from her makeshift bathroom and into the trail, forming a puddle not two feet from my own.

"Don't get bitten by a tick," I helpfully warned and she screamed in amused horror as her torrent turned to a trickle, finally rising and obviously adjusting her panties and clothing behind the tree before once more joining me.

I passed her the water bottle and her eyes noticed the puddle mid trail, drifting to the near side of the log and obviously becoming aware I would've seen her. Did it trouble her? Seemingly not. Not even a blush as she drank from where my own lips had caressed. I was reading far too much into it, I was sure.

*

"I'll just call work in the morning," I explained to Mom after I booked another night at the motel and we headed to our rooms. "We're just fortunate Sunday nights in the back end of nowhere aren't popular. They had vacancies and we even got a cheaper rate!" I made the most of the situation.

"I'll pay you back once we get home Honey," Mom proposed.

"You will not," I declared. "This weekend's my treat."

She smiled and seemed loathe to part as we stopped at her door.

"Well. Remember to check between your toes," I suggested as I made to move away and she caught my hand to prevent it.

"Thank you, Dale," she whispered. "For today. For being there."

"It's what son's do," I flippantly replied and she moved toward me.

"Only the good ones," she sighed and her lips connected with my cheek, remaining there for a second longer, her warm breath on my skin.

I felt the world spin a little faster. Definitely my heart rate increased. I didn't know if it was a 'come on' or not? Her eyes cast downwards and as I studied her face, they slowly rose once more to meet mine just as she pulled away. I swallowed noisily and she noticed, a hint of a smile turning the corners of her mouth before she allowed my hand to fall away.

I wanted to grasp it once more. To never let it go. To pull her into my room and kiss her. Kiss her mouth, her breasts, her sex. Every inch of her body. Instead I let her enter her own room and close the door upon me. An opportunity wasted? I wondered. Would such a moment ever arise again?

It was exactly five minutes later when I heard the knock on the door dividing our rooms and Mom entered wrapped in a towel. Shirtless, I'd removed my socks and shoes and was about to unbuckle the belt of my shorts when I was welcomingly interrupted.

Almost tentatively she encroached and I was admittedly unsure of her reason for being there, waiting with bated breath for her to say something.

"I'm freaking out," she insisted and they weren't the words I'd expected nor hoped to hear.

"What? Why?" I asked, my arms casually folded across my chest, hoping it made my biceps looks impressive.

"I can't see my back fully in the mirror," she winced. "What if they're in my hair? I'm imagining them all over my body," she explained and I couldn't help smiling at her discomfort.

"What? The ticks or the leeches?"

"Both!" Mom declared. "Would you mind?"

It was then I understood what was possibly about to happen. Was she wearing anything under the towel? How far was she willing to go to be sure she wasn't a carrier?