Gary Comes Home Pt 04

Days went by. Gary remained nude around the house and around his mom. And his mom remained passive about it.

He couldn't figure it out. It had been like a light switch. For a while mom was "on". She over-emphasized everything. No she is "off". She doesn't even mention it.

But Gary's mind was definitely "on". Ever since he had seen that expectant look on her face he had been processing the sight of his mom touching his penis.

On one hand he could not picture it. But he tried. He tried to picture her from the front. Of her standing or sitting in front of him and her reaching out with her hand. Making contact. He tries to picture his mom's hand from that angle.

And on the other hand he tried to picture her hand coming from behind him and touching him. It was the same view as his own hand on his penis. He tries to picture that, but he just can't.

He just cannot see it realistically. Maybe in a fantasy. Maybe at the height of a mighty orgasm. Maybe then. But in ordinary, mild-mannered thinking he cannot see it happening. Now maybe his mom might want to. But he cannot see it happening. It'd be too weird. Too awkward. Too strange. Too unnatural.

All this though didn't stop his mind from thinking about it. Trying to see if he'd ever be comfortable with it.

And he still thought about his mom and her comfort zones and her open encouragement and her pleasure in seeing him and talking about it.

If nothing else it made being nude all the easier. All the funner. All the more comfortable. All the more enjoyable.

On a bright warm Tuesday he was clearing some of the clutter from mail and bills and books and snacks left out. He was doing it rather mindlessly when his mom asked, "You seem more comfortable around windows than you were originally."

Now this is the first thing she has said about nudity since their big blow-up.

He shrugged because he hadn't thought about it and hadn't even considered what was outside the window. And he realized he probably stopped considering without thinking about it.

"I guess you're right. It rarely crosses my mind."

As he said that he looked out and their was a couple walking three large dogs.

"Do you care much if they see you?"

"We'll its not really what I care about that matters. I don't want to offend."

"Would you want to be seen?"

He felt that her switch had suddenly and unexpectedly been turned "on" again. He was a little annoyed. Not severely. But a little.

"Mom, why are you asking?"

"Just wondering. Sorry." She said that in a tone of honest regret.

Nothing else was said. But it put him on the defensive again. He just wasn't comfortable with her questions. It was too weird. It was like their was an ulterior motive that she'd never divulge.

Some days later they were in the kitchen. Things were back to normal. They were making small talk and laughing and making their own lunches.

In a moment of that happened far too fast to mentally reconstruct, she leaned down to get a pan out of a drawer. He was standing just to the right of the drawer. When she stood up he got the sense that she had moved her head closer to him just as her head passed his hip.

Maybe he sensed it all wrong. Maybe he didn't sense what he thought he had sensed.

But what if?

What if his mom had drawn her head toward his penis as she stood?

That thought was more difficult to process than her touching him.

Several days later he awoke, a like most men on most days, with an erection. And he, like most men on most days, reached down and touched it.

And it was wet.

He thought about it for about five seconds. Then sat straight up in a bolt.

How'd he get wet. How'd it get wet?

He knew the exact sort of wetness. Saliva.

He all but threw himself out of bed. He stood looking down at his erect penis.

He had felt nothing. He merely woke up as he had done every other day of his life. Nothing that he could think of awoke him.

He stood looking down. And thinking.

He started to perspire. His mind raced uncomfortably.

Who else is in the house, but his mom alone, could have made his penis wet.

He tried his best to downplay it. Maybe she did sneak in. And maybe her hand was wet. But he knew that was less plausible.

He said nothing. But he was wholly weirded out. But he said nothing. He tried to be normal.

Days went by and everything seemed ordinary.

But then it happened again. Then days. Then again.

He'd wake up with a wet rock hard penis.

Then nothing again. Normalcy. Days went by. Nothing.

On an ordinary Saturday morning he awoke, felt his erection, it was dry, and he laid in bed enjoying the warmth and comfort of heavy blankets.

He heard a very, very soft click of a door. He laid there because it barely registered. In his mind it could have been anywhere in the house.

Without a thought he rolled over to find his mom kneeling beside his bed.

She had no clothes on.