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Chapter 1
The text had been short but clear. "Can you come home for the summer?" Mom had sent it a few weeks before finals. She knew I was looking for an internship after my freshman year of college, one that would keep me from spending my summer with her. Her text, which I received in the middle of physics lab, had no context but I knew why she had asked. Even though it meant missing an opportunity so early in my college career, I pulled out my phone and texted "of course" before my lab teaching assistant could catch me.
Finals came and went, and Mom showed up with a rented truck to load out my dorm. My college friends marveled at my mom, but it was just how things went for me. My mother was young. She had met my father, who was forty-five years her senior, when she was twenty. She had me two years later, and Dad has passed a year ago in the middle of my senior year of high school. I was the only family mom had, and I knew that my friends all found her attractive. I had heard about it for years. She was slender, pale-skinned, with long black hair. She maintained her figure and, due to good genetics, looked like she was in her early twenties still. We used to joke that she was immortal. My friends, on the other hand, joked that she was the hottest of our moms. I had to agree.
My college friends helped us load the truck and we were off, driving two days across the country. We stopped in Texas on the first night, staying in a hotel that was open late but still nice.
"Do you care if we share a room?" Mom said.
"Of course not," I said. She smiled, a silent thanks for not having her stay by herself. Since Dad's passing she had been alone, and I knew spending my summer home was for her benefit. Still, I loved my mom and she was my whole world. Having a much older father meant I spent a lot of time with my mom. In some ways, we were closer than most sons and mothers.
I read a book while Mom showered. There were two queen beds and I took the one by the door, as was our custom. She exited wearing a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her long hair. She was brushing her teeth and smiled at me when she saw me. In my entire life, she had never failed to smile when she saw me. Mom hung up the bath robe and crawled into bed, bidding me goodnight.
After a while, in the dark, I heard my mother's voice.
"Stephen?" she said, searching.
"Yeah, I'm still up," I said. I had been scrolling on my phone while I thought she had fallen asleep. I saw her get up and cross over to my bed. I understood, and lifted the sheet. She slid in next to me, turning her back to me and curling up with a pillow. My mom had sometimes crawled into my bed at home, and did so much more often after Dad's passing. She said nothing, and quickly settled in to sleep. I thought nothing of it, and scrolled some more before finally set my phone down to fall asleep.
I woke up first. Mom was asleep, her back still to me. She wore pajama pants and a t-shirt. The sun was bright in the room and I put on my glasses and sat up in bed. We had a eight-hour drive and we could afford to sleep in a little. I sat up and looked at my phone while mom slept. Mom has a small waist but had a good figure, and I noticed she looked as youthful as ever. I did notice a few grey strands in the long black hair that spilled onto the mattress like liquid darkness. Those were new.
Mom shifted in her sleep, arching her back. She shifted enough that her pajama pants slipped down over her hips, showing some of her back. She had deep dimples on her lower back, and I looked at the twin indentations on her smooth, pale skin. Mom never tanned, and her pale skin was in stark contrast to her hair. I found myself looking at the curve of her hips, and noted how perfect she was in proportion. Mom was a little shorter than average, and her narrow waist made her appear even smaller.
She shifted again, moving toward the headboard. Her pajama pants slid down further, and to my surprise they slid down enough that I could see several inches of her bare ass. Mom, apparently, had nothing on under her pants. I knew I shouldn't look, but I found myself unable to do anything else. I set my phone down and looked her over. Her curves were soft, smooth, and in the morning sun seemed to shimmer. I don't know why I kept looking, but I did. My friends has always teased me about how attractive my mom was. In fact one of my closest friends made no secret that he thought she was hot. The fact that she looked exactly the same for my entire life didn't help fuel my friends' comments.
Mom rolled over, still asleep. As she moved her pants rode lower, and I looked down her smooth midriff and caught my breath suddenly. Her pants were so low on her hips that I could see, in the slight bridge they made across her hipbones, the faintest wisps of her dark, curly bush. My eyes widened and I felt my cock swell suddenly. It was like a magnet, I was drawn to it without thinking. I was ashamed by my biological, instinctual response. This was my mother, after all.
My shame aside, I still was intrigued. I slid down my pillow slowly, getting a better angle down her pants. I could see a jet-black tangle against her pale skin. My dick kept growing, and I told myself it was just the surprise factor. I also felt a strange pull to keep looking, and it took considerable will to look away. When I did I noticed my mom's tits. They were a decent size, not too big but not to small. Through the thin fabric her nipples were hard. It was cold in in the room, after all, I told myself.
The view was surreal, amazing. My dick was fully erect and throbbing, and my mother slept peacefully. In a moment of hormonal irrationality I picked up my phone and opened the camera. I took a picture of her tits, straining agains the tight, thin fabric of her shirt. I then angled my camera carefully, taking a picture down her pants. And then another.
Mom inhaled slowly and I almost dropped my phone. I closed it and stashed it as as rolled onto her side, her eyes opening slowly.
"Good morning," I said.
"Goor morning, Stephen," she said sweetly, her eyes half closed. I was painfully aware of the bulge in my pajama pants and turned from her to sit up, using the opportunity to adjust myself. I stood up and looked out the window, willing my erection to subside. This was, I had to remind myself, my mom. Some inner part of my brain reminded me that I had just taken pictures of her bush, and my dick throbbed in response, almost mocking me.
"I'm going to take a shower," I said, and headed into the bathroom. I turned on the water and stripped down, my dick pointing out angrily, pulsing with my heartbeat. It might have been my imagination, but I had never been so hard. I told myself to just take a shower, we had a long day of driving ahead of us. I stepped into the shower and looked down and my swollen, turgid member. I had never been this hard, and I was struck my the realization that it looked a little...bigger. It was an optical illusion, I told myself, but it definitely struck me as different.
I thought about the soft curves of mom's ass, and her perky tits, and of course of the dark bush under her pajamas. It called to me, almost like a siren's song. Before I knew it, I was stroking my shaft. I had masturbated hundreds--maybe thousands--of times in my life. I had discovered masturbation early, and I still remember the first time I ever came. I had no idea what I was doing, and was rubbing against a pillow when my orgasm overtook me without warning. I remember crying out in surprise, but also wanted to chase that feeling forever. Since that first moment of pleasure, I had probably masturbated every day. I found that each time I came,I felt an electric energy for the entire day.
