Son discovers that his mom is part of his inheritance.
Authors notes:
One of my sadly anonymous readers requested that I try to make a story like this, so here it is, I hope it scratches your itch.
In case it is unclear to some, everyone in this story is eighteen years or older.
Yes, our MC has recently turned eighteen, and this takes place shortly after that.
XXX
My dad's death came as no shock to any of us.
He was pretty old, and he had lived a great life.
Still, it could have been timed a little better.
Days before my eighteenth birthday, he just keeled over dead, massive cardiac arrest.
My party got canceled, even the strippers in a cake my old man har promised me.
I had to make do with a quiet little dinner, and a promise that we would have a party once everything else was dealt with.
So a few days after I had turned eighteen, I had to arrange a funeral, and contact lawyers and the authorities and all that.
My mom was a mess, doing her best, but let's just say my dad didn't marry her for her brains.
She was much younger than my dad, not even forty yet, and thanks to all the expensive skin products and spa treatments and her busy workout schedule that dad's money allowed her, she looked more like my older sister than my mom.
Quite the looker for sure, and ask her anything about fitness and health, and she was a font of knowledge.
But she never had the time for any real education, focusing instead on always looking her best for dad, and being there for him whenever he needed her for anything.
So that's the reason I found myself going through my dad's office, trying to get his affairs in order.
It was mostly old school, dark wood and leather furniture, with a few nods to modern life in the form of his multiple monitor computer setup that he used for business, and the huge panorama windows that allowed him a nice view of our well kept garden, and my moms favorite yoga spot.
The windows were the one-way sort, making me feel slightly guilty as I couldn't help being distracted by my mom's yoga routine.
I guess old habits die hard, so even though I was in his office, getting things sorted, she was still going through the motions of staying fit and limber.
Even if she is my mom, I still had to pause and admire her ass for a while, as the combination of her interesting positions and the tight yoga pants all but gave the appearance of a thin layer of bodypaint.
Tearing myself loose from the entertainment just outside the windows, and adjusting my crotch that had gotten uncomfortably tight, I managed to get back on task.
Rifling through the piles, I happened upon a large manilla envelope, that seemed to have a few things inside.
Pouring the contents out, I recognized my dad's keys, watch, various other personal effects, and of course the family ring.
A wide gold band with a large red gem of some sort.
According to his stories, the ring had been in our family for generations, and it was said that as long as it remained in our possession, our family would prosper.
A nice tale for sure, but he was very serious about it, making me promise I would never let it go, that it would never leave our family.
I missed him a lot. Looking at the ring, I felt adrift, what would I do without him?
It's funny how when you are completely lost, the mind will focus on the most absurd things.
Like how the ring was surely too large to fit on any of my fingers, I would drop it for sure, if I were to actually wear it.
Just to test it, I slipped it on my largest finger, my right middle finger, thinking it was probably larger enough to be a loose fit on my thumbs too.
I was wrong. As I slipped it on my finger, it felt warm, like dad had just slipped it off a moment before. For a single moment, the unusual sensation of wearing a ring made it feel like it was burning hot, but the sensation vanished as soon as it started, making me gasp and almost pull the ring off to throw the incandescent object away from me.
But two things stopped me.
The first was that the ring was actually a perfect fit. So much so, that it seemed a lot harder to pull it off, than it was to slide it on.
The second was that the sensation of heat was gone immediately, it was probably just some nerve ends not being used to being touched, or something.
Wiggling my fingers around, I found I liked the unusual weight of the heavy ring, and wearing it felt comforting somehow. Like some part of my dad was still with me.
I was about to go back to work, when I noticed my mom was spending a bit too much time in a position that didn't seem like any yoga pose I knew.
She seemed to have face-planted on her yoga-mat, and seemed to have trouble getting up.
My immediate worry of her having keeled over dead just like dad, was alleviated by her feeble attempts at getting up, but I rushed to her aid just the same.
Rushing into the garden, I easily picked her up, carrying her inside despite her weak protests.