A Towel Slip
Looking back, it is easy to conclude that even before that fateful day there had been a growing mutual undercurrent of attraction between me and my lovely mother. I can recall one particular incident a few months after my eighteenth birthday -- I'd been moving about the kitchen fixing myself a snack while my mother was busy packing away groceries and other stuff she'd brought home earlier in the day. I first felt, then noticed, a couple of times that her eyes were following my movements. I turned around from the refrigerator suddenly, while my hand was still on the door, in the process of closing it, and caught her looking directly at me. She hadn't time to look away, and her eyes which seemed lit with excitement, locked with mine for a few seconds. She smiled blushingly and said:
"You're growing into such a fine-looking young man. I'm proud of you."
I guess she must have felt that she had to state a reason for looking at me so deeply. She stepped forward and gave me a quick, tight hug followed by a kiss on the cheek. When her soft, bra-less bosom mashed against my chest I felt a surge of enjoyable comfort that begged to be indulged, and my hands returned the firm embrace. She patted my back, then broke the closeness, smiled sweetly and walked out of the kitchen.
My eyes followed her disappearing body in the short, close fitting, light-blue shift which hugged her bouncing, fleshy ass. The shift was short enough to reveal a good portion of smooth, rounded, slim-thick thigh backs. The mid-brown flesh glowed seductively, and I felt myself thinking that my mommy was, just as she described me, fine looking. It also occurred to me at that moment that it was not the first time I'd entertained that thought, and that I had been guilty, of late, of looking her over admiringly while she moved about, though, unlike what she'd just done, I was much too shy to let her know of my admiration.
From that day onwards, the way we looked at each other with appreciative, yet guarded eyes is evidence that we subconsciously, sensed the deeper attraction rearing its head, and felt we needed to keep it in check..
As I moved into the adult world of work, my natural shyness faded away, and I suddenly found myself gradually, but without inappropriate intent, letting my admiration of mommy's body known by way of subtly complimenting how she looked and dressed. She responded in a likewise manner, generously and with increasing frequency, praising the way I looked when I dressed up to go out, and often commenting on my nicely developing athletic body.
My one year older sister got married at twenty because of pregnancy -- just like mom had -- and moved away. This was followed a year later by the departure of our dad who had been secretly raising a parallel family. As time went by, the mutual admiration between me and my mommy had grown -- without either of us being fully conscious, I think -- into a simmering, but controlled sexual awareness and longing. We both knew it was there but carefully treated it as harmless affection. I remember an occasion when I was going out on a date, mom had referred to me jokingly as looking very sexy, and not long after that I had returned the very compliment after she had gotten dressed up for an office Christmas party. She had blushed deeply and stared into my eyes for an extended period, before wrenching her head to the side and turning away with a shy and embarrassed smile.
It was Saturday, and I awoke to a bright, sun-lit room. Startled by a thought, I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was saying fifteen minutes after midday. I had a class at one. The night before mom and I had gone to the airport to meet an incoming aunt and uncle and then take them to their home in the countryside. The flight had been delayed, and we didn't return home until six AM.
I threw my feet off the bed and saw that I had a massive erection. I got up, grabbed a bath towel and held it around me, not bothering to draw it tight and tuck the edge in. I opened the door and rushed out -- right into the path of my mother. Startled, she jumped back. The towel she was wrapped in fell away to the floor, leaving her stark naked. Equally startled and shocked by the meaty delight before my eyes, I also jumped back, in the effort, releasing the towel I had been holding. We stood there, mother and son naked, wide eyed and open mouthed, staring at each other's body. I was looking from boobs to belly to shaved vulva and thick thighs and back up again in the reverse. She was looking, alternatingly, at only two places, my face and my engorged manhood. Finally, our eyes locked. Mom was the first to speak.
"Well, I've heard of and seen morning wood ... what is this, midday wood? She said, standing hands akimbo and cracking up with laughter.
It was only in retrospect, later in the day, that it dawned on me that neither of us had seemed particularly interested in retrieving our towels or using our hands to cover up. It was as if we both wanted our nakedness to be on display for the other's eyes. I joined in the laughter, still staring from one juicy piece of meat to the other, my cock, caught in the state it was, reacted by bouncing in applause of the added stimulation thrust at it. Mom also, was still looking, with amazed eyes at my sizeable tool.
At forty-three, mom's slim-thick body, more thick than thin if you had to settle on one or the other, was in fine shape. Her mid-brown skin was smooth and still had a lot of youthful glow. Her crotch was a sight to behold, a prime example of neatness. Her vulva was neatly shaved. The vulva itself was neatly shaped, a sizable triangular lump with no overhanging lips, just a thin slit. The mons veneris was also a smooth and shapely elevation. As if that were not enough to hold attention, the pussy itself provided added mystery and beauty, by being extremely darker than its surrounding. It was almost black! An enticing contrast. Shit how I wished that weren't my mom standing there. How I would have liked to attack that fine pussy with my hard cock. Her full, C-cup, naturally round and firm breasts were standing high on her chest, with nipples that appeared slightly excited. Again, it was she who spoke first.
"Boy, stop staring and get your mother her towel ... gosh, you'd think this was the first time you were looking at a naked woman," she said, stressing on the word mother.
At twenty-two, I was well educated, eloquent and as I mentioned before, no longer shy. Add to that I had a reputation for saying the darndest things with a straight face. I'd often been accused of thriving on shock value. So, it was no problem for me to casually say:
"It's the first time I'm looking at nakedness like yours ... what I'm looking at is beyond amazing. This is the stuff of dreams ... parts like yours don't come a dime a dozen ... far from it ... just give me a moment to lock it into my memory, Trudy," I said.
"Lock it into your memory for what, baby, you plan on using images of your mother to jerk off?" she said, holding her hands up to her mouth and laughing.
Living in our grandparents home until our early teens, me and my sister grew up calling our mother Trudy and our grandmother mommy, because that is what we heard all around us.
"Thanks for the compliments, but would you for heaven's sake, stop staring at your mother's privates and hand me my towel ... what, you want to see me bend over while naked ... that how you get your kicks?" She said, again laughing.
I picked up the towel and handed it to her.
"I was coming to tell you that we don't have much time. You better get moving or you'll be late for your class," she said as she took the towel.
She threw the towel over her shoulder and strolled past me on the way to her room. I looked back at the bouncing mommy derriere and felt my cock lurch. She looked back and caught me looking.
"Staring is not nice," she said, and smiled.
Half an hour later we were in her car. It was a regular thing, Trudy would drop me off to the institution where I lectured part time and then go do her shopping or her hair or whatever else was there to be done, then two to three hours later pick me up and take me back home if I didn't have somewhere else to go. I was only out of university six months and hadn't been working long enough or earning enough yet to buy my own car, so Trudy would sometimes take me about or lend me her car.
She was wearing a short denim skirt, which because of her sitting position just barely covered her crotch. If it rode up any more I was sure to get a direct view of that, so I kept checking, enthralled by the memory of the dark mystery between those smooth juicy thighs.
"Boy, would you keep your eyes on the road before you cause an accident," she said.
"Trudy, I'm not the one driving," I replied, amused.
