Jerking off to the thought of my mother seeing me naked did not seem like a big deal at first, but it planted an idea in my head that just wouldn't go away. I started obsessing over how my mother saw me, if she found me attractive. Did my mother fantasize about guys my age? Her son's age? I started fantasizing about revealing myself to her and would imagine how she'd react. I pictured her face, her body language. Like I said before, my mom wasn't some frail prude who would shriek and run out of the room if a nude man were in it. She would likely remain composed, maybe laugh, and ask the person to get dressed. Maybe sneak a peek; like I said, she wasn't some puritan virgin. But what if it was me? What if she saw me naked? Would she sneak a peek? Would she like what she saw, and desire it?
This might seem like some pretty strong ideation on my part, based as it was on a stray thought. But what fueled it so much was all the confirmation I received that my mom had indeed seen me sleeping naked and that it had bothered her in a way that remained uncomfortable for her even after a few days. For one thing, she didn't get anywhere near my apartment all weekend without texting first. She was courteous but hardly friendly toward me. She avoided eye contact and seemed upset with me. I was able to get her to smile a couple of times by talking about inane subjects. That's when she seemed to forget what happened. But later I guess when the thought crept back in she'd go back to acting awkward around me.
She wouldn't come inside my apartment either, or at least not very far. It was kind of funny, like she was facing an invisible barrier and could only take a step or two into my place. But the hilarious truth was out: she couldn't stand to look at my bed, which in fairness was awkwardly close to the door of my studio apartment. This was all I needed to see in order to be sure that what I thought happened did in fact take place. That was when I got the idea for my trap. So I prepared for the next few days and when everything was ready I thought of some pretext to get her to come over.
I feigned needing help moving some stuff around. "Just some light stuff," I pleaded and she showed up in her usual jeans and tank top. My mother had always been athletic, and she had kept herself well. At 42 she was slim and sprightly, with the fluid and precise movements of a dancer. She was broad-shouldered with toned shoulders and arms. Her main form of exercise was swimming, so she was muscular all over, not to mention well-tanned. But she was also tall at 5'9" and more over had long arms and fingers. I had always loved her arms and always looked forward to when she'd hug me or pat me. I think she may have been teased about her size in school because she was a little self-conscious about her hands. But she wasn't awkward or gangly. She moved quickly and quietly, and with purpose. Now as she was getting older, she had settled into a strong physical profile that often made her the focus of attention a much younger woman might expect.
I was having a hard time not checking her out too much, not to mention popping off a giant boner that would scare her off. I had been sure to wear tight boxers and jeans just in case that happened, but it would be best to come off totally innocent for the moment. So I put her right to work moving a big chair and dresser that I couldn't lift on my own. She still had that reticent, uncomfortable look that she'd had since the other morning. But as we moved the room around and it started to come together I could see she was getting distracted with interior design. She began asking what ideas I had for this space, or suggesting what she thought would look good where. So I indulged in some small talk, and even got her to commit to digging out an old shelf she wasn't using, before hitting her with the grand finale.
"Thanks, mom. One last thing: do you mind helping me drag the bed across the room?"
Just like I thought, the mere mention of the bed seemed to trigger something uncomfortable. Her smile faded a bit, and she didn't answer right away. She even affected being tired a little bit, and I wondered if she was actually considering turning me down on some pretext. I have to confess, aside from everything else I was getting a lot of pleasure from manipulating my mother like this. She is not someone who gets flustered easily, and here I had her like a cornered rabbit who forgot she was a fox.
