With as much effort as I could muster I swung the axe backwards and brought the blade down on the log.
CRACK!
The wood split in two and I gathered up the pieces and dropped them into the basket next to me.
My breath was a cloud in the frosty air and my hands red from the effort of holding the axe. Beads of sweat sat upon my brow as I got the next large log on to the block. Feeling hot, I paused for a moment and shrugged off my jacket. The cold air bristled against my bare arms. I took up the axe again.
CRACK!
Satisfyingly, the log cleaved in two equally. I dropped the axe, picked up the pieces and then as I came back up I saw her stood there.
"Well, look who's got wood."
My Mother. She stood on the garden path with shawl over her shoulders. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the low afternoon sun and her full, red lips smiled at her joke. She came towards me holding out a mug of tea. Dropping the logs into the basket, I took the mug from her, setting it down on the round garden table next to me.
"Thank you" I grinned
"Aren't you cold, darling?" She asked drawing her hand slowly down my arm, the muscles alive from the cold and hefting the axe.
"No it's actually quite invigorating. Do you think that's enough for tomorrow and Boxing Day?"
Mum brushed her blonde hair back and looked at the basket. In her 4-inch heeled black calf-length boots she was more or less the same height as me.
"I think so," she replied, "although did you know that wood cutting actually raises testosterone more than many other physical activities?'
She took a step towards me and I let my arm wrap around her waist.
"Is that so? I can't imagine what might make my testosterone rise more than swinging this axe about."
Mum giggled and then moved her hand to the crotch of my jeans. "Well... I do admire a man who can handle his chopper..."
The innuendo was too ridiculous and I let out a snort. Mum laughed too and our eyes met, her hand was still resting on the now growing bulge in my trousers. I pulled her towards me and our lips met. As the low sun made her hair turn amber I cradled her face as we kissed.
It was a forbidden kiss, in a secluded garden, in an English village, on a cold Christmas Eve.
After dumping the basket of logs by the fireplace, Mum reminded me that we had church for the traditional 'Nine Lessons and Carols' service. My back was drenched in sweat from the chopping and my tshirt clung to my body.
"Go and shower," Mum instructed.
The cottage Mum lived in was cosy enough, but thankfully both of us had a bathroom, mine being the 'main' one while hers was en suite.
The warm water cascaded over my naked chest and I grabbed for the shower gel and began to lather. My body responded to the water and I relaxed, though my cock remained a little hard from our garden kiss.
Our relationship wasn't normal. In fact it was another country from normal, but out here, in the village of Little Oakden, no one knew anything about us.
Picking up my razor I looked down at my cock and balls. Some itchy stubble was forming above my cock, so I took the razor to it. Mum preferred me clean-shaven and over the last few years I liked it too. I cradled my balls searching for any stray hairs and then put the razor down. I held my cock and gently squeezed my fingers. I fought the urge to masturbate, Mum wouldn't like it if I did, but regardless my cock stiffened.
A few minutes wouldn't hurt. I began squeezing my cock with my whole hand and then settled into a rhythm. It was no good, I was definitely aroused. I increased the pace and my hand splashed back and forth under the water. My mind dazed as I let the pleasure in my body increase.
"You're not touching yourself are you?"
I shot bolt upright in the shower and then wiped the door clear. Mum was stood there holding a towel for me. She'd removed her shawl and now I could see the tight, white, low cut top she was wearing. My Mum had fantastic breasts, 34DD and she was unafraid of showing off her cleavage.
I quickly turned the shower off and stepped out. My cock was stiff in front of me pointing like an arrow.
Mum held the towel to one side and stood in front of me, her black boots contrasting with the white tiles of the floor.
"Liar," she said with a smile and the slapped my cock as if she were swatting away a fly.
I cried out at the shock and then let the endorphin rush settle me back down. My cock remained resolutely stiff.
Mum brought the towel up to my head and began to rub me down. I always loved it when she did this, the fluffiness of the towel caressing my body.
She looked down and pinched my cock between her fingers, her red manicured nails tracing along the underside.
"Who does this belong to, John?"
"You, Mummy."
She wrapped her whole hand around my cock and tugged it a few times. I moaned a little.
"Shall we play a game at church, John?" She asked as her hand moved up and down my cock.
"What- what sort of game, Mummy?"
"On all fours, please."
This was a surprise and felt my stomach somersault. My Mum could be devious when she wanted to be so suddenly finding myself kneeling forward on my hands was a worry. I positioned a towel as best I could on the floor.
"Bottom out please, John."
I shivered, but did as she asked. At that moment that I pushed my arse back and out I felt cool drops of oil splattering over my cheeks. Her hand, very slowly and gently began to smooth the oil between my bottom and around my puckered hole. Then, I felt a cold, hard lozenge shape being pushed against my arsehole. I cried out in surprise and the oiled-up toy popped inside my arse.
"What is it?" I asked, my bum muscles squirming as I tried to get used to the sensation.
"It's a vibrator, darling. I have it connected to my phone." Mum sat on the closed toilet next to me and I swivelled to look at her.
My eyes widened with surprise as she showed me the app on her phone. The words 'BUZZ LEVEL' were at the top and in the centre of the screen was a dial, it was set to zero.
"Now watch," she told me as she slid her finger over the dial. I felt a low buzzing in my anus and I cried out. "Tut tut, John," she said as I buzzed, "You can't cry out like that in church, can you?"
I moaned and wriggled in some discomfort. Mum giggled. "I need to get dressed, sweetie". And as she left the bathroom she buzzed me once more.
Dressed in a pair of dark slacks with a white shirt and matching jacket, I walked into my Mum's room to attend to her. She was pulling up a cheery red skirt over her legs which were encased in black stockings, the tops embroidered with red lace effect.
"Zip please."
I walked forward and held my hand on her hip to steady her as I pulled up the zip on her skirt, it fitted tightly over her bottom.
Thanking me, my mother took a step back and began working on her lipstick in the bedroom mirror. Her room was framed by the slanted beams of the cottage roof, her bed was king size and sat in the middle of the cream carpet. Her large oak wardrobe sat off to the side.
I sat down on the bed and watched her put on her make-up as I had done many times before. I was always a little bit spellbound during these moments and I craned my neck forward and she winked at me in the mirror.
