A trickling, chuckling stream of water sluicing off the corrugated metal roof gave audible testimony to the cold rain driven sideways by fitful gusts of wind. Light fog lay about the small but homey structure occupying a spur of Lookout Mountain overlooking U. S. Highway 11 far below. Soggy silence enveloped the auburn-haired woman of forty-one standing near a post on the front porch.
Laurentia Grayson was hardly dressed for this sort of weather. She realized that she could resolve her growing discomfort by either going back inside where her twenty-five-year-old hulk of a son Kimberly still slept, or by doing the smart thing and getting a coat, then standing outside if she must. Being the woman she was, she stubbornly elected to do neither and wrapped her arms about herself as if that would ward off the shivers threatening to become shakes at any second.
She wore a form-fitting pair of denims that had been on the trail for some time, so to speak. They were limp, faded to a pale bluish white and rode tightly over the tops of her black Tony Llama western boots. She wore only a man's thin ribbed undershirt cut off and hemmed slightly below her large and heavy breasts. Her areoles were large, dark brown and quite plump, tipped with hard nipples that protruded aggressively through the undershirt. Her chest was large enough that the shirt hung from her nipples, well away from her muscled tummy.
She possessed two piercings: a gold ring pierced her navel and supported an emerald ball at the end of a two-inch chain. She also wore a gold triangle through the septum of her nose. It rested lightly on her upper lip and frequently made her hot when she thought about it.
The face above this sensuous display was slender with high bones, very delicately sunken cheeks, gray eyes, a straight nose, and a wide mouth that seemed as if it ought to smile easily. But there was no smile today. Long auburn waves fell over her shoulders to the middle of her back, also framing her sad face. Her breasts rested warm and comfortably heavy on her crossed arms, but she seemed to not notice.
It had been a year now since Kerry, her husband and light of her life for nineteen years had died. Florida State troopers arrived to inform her graciously and with every professional courtesy that he had been struck by a vehicle on I-95 beneath the flyover from Palm Beach to the airport west of the city. For some unfathomable reason a driver had stopped his pickup on top of the flyover, was struck from behind and was launched out over the retaining wall onto the interstate below. Right on top of Kerry's Chevrolet Tahoe. No one could have survived such an event.
Kimberly was well into his third year at college. He rushed home, assisted her in handling all those necessary and dreadful tasks that must be dealt with only because a loved one has died. With every move he made he reminded her of his father, big, powerful, thoughtful, and ever conscious of her needs and desires. They had always been extremely close as a small family, and during his later teens she and her husband had never concealed from their son their loving affections for each other.
Despite her increasing cold, her mind drifted back over years past. Tears misted her eyes and finally ran slowly down her cheeks. She and Kerry had always caressed openly and easily around others. At times this disconcerted friends and some family who finally got used to it, but they had lost several friends who just did not like the sensuous displays of unassuming, unplanned love and intimacy that she and her husband enjoyed.
She recalled how he would hold her breasts or remove her top altogether as they sat watching television. By the time Kimberly was eighteen he had a fully developed sense of humor and joined in good-naturedly kidding his mother about the size of her breasts. He and his father would hoot at her studied determination to not make a big deal out of her assets while she sunbathed topless at the beach or wore some extremely suggestive outfit when she was out with her men. She took it all in stride.
"You're just jealous, Large Human," she would shoot back with a broad grin. This was followed by a shake of her torso causing her breasts to quiver as if they were mounds of gelatin. It never failed to arouse her son, and she got quite a sexual jolt from it as well. Breasts were such beautiful, erotic things to possess.
Even after having been graduated from high school Kimberly remained very close to his family. He brought dates to their home, and his mother was the perfect host, combining attractiveness with humor, imagination and her respect for their son's guests. For some reason, and she and Kerry had never ceased to give thanks, Kimberly had avoided those painful years when teens become less pleasant than a cold barium enema.
Even with friends about, however, Laurentia never restrained her penchant for nudity and would swim topless or altogether nude in their pool and at the beach; or she would recline completely naked in the presence of guests and her son. Kimberly's friends liked his mother for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was her nudity, but they also thought she was a work of art. Other reasons for their respect and affection for his mother were her insistence that they honor her and her seemingly unending sense of humor.
The rain hammered down and her shivers became more pronounced as she recalled how her husband and grown-up son [had he really matured so rapidly in such a short time?] had, without pretense, hugged her and cupped her breasts or tugged at a nipple as they greeted her or departed for the day. What Laurentia did not know was that her son, sometime during his nineteenth year, had realized he not only loved her but was
in love
with her. This sweet desire grew in intensity until she rarely left his thoughts.
Kimberly believed his mother to be the sexiest, most sensuous woman he had ever known. During the years at college he dated often and had many female friends; but his desire for Laurentia never abated although he managed a tight rein on his expression of it. His return home and residence there during the past year since his father's death had provided opportunity for a very delicate and slow yet definitely growing intimacy between the two.
This tender yet unconventional relationship signaled its presence through their more and more frequent trips out together, several dinner-and-movie engagements each month that in reality were dates, a subtle change in the way they kissed and Laurentia's now habitual dressing in revealing clothing when they sat watching television together in the evening. These times were precious, quiet, not especially loaded with sexuality, yet were increasingly significant in their changing relationship.
Her son was not always able to keep his hands off his mother, and she adored every second of it.
Another erotic bellwether of her interest in Kim was her regular enjoyment of sensuous clothing when she and he went out in public. She now preferred very short dresses and skirts, frequently wore no underwear, and got great pleasure in going braless in near arrest-worthy tops. Kim enjoyed it completely and complimented her often. She also had the body to permit this pleasure.
They sat together rather than separately. She had purchased several thongs as swimsuit replacements for her son to wear when they swam or sunned together, and in contrast to the likely reaction of many older teens Kimberly enjoyed doing so. At the very first, he thought he would have died rather than get himself something so skimpy. But as he wore them to please her, in the process he began to enjoy the sensation of being so bare. Eventually, he came to relish being stared at by others.
