Chapter 1

“Lynn?” Mom yelled. “Have you seen Tyson?”

She burst through the half-open door just as I sprang to my feet from my sister’s bed. Lynn had turned and walked to the window, trying to inconspicuously button her yellow blouse but, unfortunately, the warm summer breeze caused it to billow out from her waist, betraying its insecure state to our mother.

If I wasn’t so freaked out, I would have felt sorry for Mom. The look on her face changed from confusion to disbelief to distress in mere seconds. For once, the vocabulary champion of our household was at a loss for words, though she struggled to speak.

“Where’s ... I ... oh, you’re here,” she said, looking at me. Then, “Uh, what are you doing?” she directed at neither of us, and both, at the same time.

Lynn had finished buttoning her blouse. Always quicker than I, she turned around and calmly answered for us both, “Ty was wondering what I was wearing to the beach party tonight, so I was just showing him my new swimsuit.”

Lynn breezed past Mom and made a quick exit from her room.

“I have to go. Chad’s picking me up,” she yelled after she disappeared, feet pounding down the stairs.

Mom and I were left in awkward silence, avoiding each other’s eyes, but there was no ignoring the fact that when Lynn rushed past it was obvious she wasn’t wearing anything under her yellow cotton blouse. Mom looked back at the door, swivelling away from me, and I looked at the floor.

“I better get dinner on,” she mumbled, shuffling out the door, whatever she was calling me for now forgotten.

The beach party was long over and it had been five weeks since Lynn left for college. She and I were the same age and, even though I wasn’t as smart as my sister, I had managed to graduate. Nevertheless, there was no college education in store for me. I had applied too late for the electrician program I wanted to do and now couldn’t start until January so I was just working my weekend job plus three extra shifts through the week. Mom hadn’t said anything more about that day in Lynn’s room but I could sense tension whenever her name came up.

Though I didn’t expect it to be completely forgotten, I hoped the incident would fade sufficiently that it would never need to be discussed. I did wonder what Mom had made of it. Surely, she had figured out that Lynn had shown me her tits but did she think more had happened? Did she think Lynn and I were actually doing it?

Sure, Lynn and I had always been close and hung out with a lot of the same friends, but having sex together? Well, alright, I admit I had tried to cajole Lynn into showing me her tits but was hoping to see more, maybe even getting her to bend over so I could look at her awesome ass, but what teenager wouldn’t try with a sister that looked like mine? I mean, except for smaller tits and a tighter ass, she was the spitting image of Mom, just a younger version, and Mom was a nice looking woman. When my parents hosted parties, it was obvious from a bystander point of view that most of the men frequently checked Mom out.

A very nice looking woman indeed. My mind roved over my own personal memories of Mom’s body. Actually, she wasn’t that old looking. Sure, her ass had more padding than Lynn’s but it was still nice to look at and when she wore a dress, you could see that she had great legs. Her hair was usually worn in an older-woman style but when she shook it loose like she sometimes did at night with only family at home she looked much younger and, now that I thought about it, kind of sexy.

I dropped out of my daydream and looked down at my hand which had slipped from resting on my knee to inside my leg. Well, on my crotch, actually, cupping my balls. I shook my head hard and jumped up.

Jesus fucking Christ, Ty. Get a fucking grip.

“Tyson. Dinner,” Mom yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

I started for my bedroom door but stopped to check that my prick, which while sending happy signals to my brain, wasn’t swollen enough to cause embarrassment. It was noticeable but nothing that couldn’t be addressed by the visions of hammers and anvils I flushed through my brain as I descended the stairs.

After dinner, Mom did her crossword puzzles, as usual, while Dad alternated between reading and glancing at the news channel. A perfectly normal night at our house. I finished the magazine I was reading and shifted closer to look over Mom’s shoulder. I didn’t have anything else to read downstairs and was too lazy to go up to my room to get something.

Mom was almost finished a large puzzle. Only the bottom right corner remained. I leaned closer, brushing up against her side, and she turned the book toward me a little so I could read the clues, as if I would have half a clue what the answers would be. I was hopeless at crosswords and Lynn wasn’t much better. Mom was an expert and tried to get us to do them to expand our vocabulary but her message fell on deaf ears with me and Lynn only filled in the easiest words in Mom’s puzzles which bugged Mom but she didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to discourage her.

I started throwing out goofy suggestions as I usually did when I pitched in to help Mom when she was stuck. There was no chance of me getting the right word but sometimes my inane offerings triggered something in her mind and helped her finish.

Tonight wasn’t any different. At first, Mom openly laughed at my ideas but then they started making her think and she ignored my further contributions as she turned the earlier ones over in her mind. The hand holding the pencil waved me off but I leaned closer as if proximity would improve the uptake of my ideas.

My thigh brushed the side of Mom’s as I moved closer and, thinking I needed room, she leaned toward the corner of the couch but I followed, hanging my head over her shoulder. As I did, my leg pressed more firmly into the underside of Mom’s thigh since her leg had lifted from the couch as she leaned away from me. In fact, I was pressing against Mom’s hip near the edge of her ass. Believe me, I hadn’t intended to do so, it just happened.

“Aha,” she cried, filling in one of the longer empty spaces. Quickly, the remaining holdouts were swept away as Mom’s mind, now renewed, sped through them as if a dam had burst.

“There,” she said with a flourish. “We did it.”

Mom dropped the puzzle book into her lap and reached across with her left hand to pick up her cold cup of tea. For a brief moment a gap opened between the back of her thigh and mine. Again, through no conscious intention, I naturally moved closer and, in fact, slid part way under Mom. The gap disappeared when Mom set the cup back onto the saucer and sank back onto me.

“There,” she reiterated.

The puzzle book was retrieved and the page was turned, Mom’s face already showing that she was ready for the next challenge but it soon turned to puzzlement and mine to horror.

The next page revealed a puzzle that had already been partially completed but not by the careful hand of my mother. This script was messy, its letters often violating the line constraints quite unlike my mother’s fastidious completions. That wasn’t the main problem, however. The real issue smacked me in the face far before it penetrated Mom’s awareness with gentler probes, for there, in plain sight embedded within the larger scrawls were three entries that I recognized. There were four letters across and five down in the middle of the puzzle and another six written across the center of the bottom : “tits”, “pussy”, and “showme”.

Mom stared at the puzzle. The muscles in her thigh pressing upon mine became tense and my body became as rigid as hers. My mind reeled and sensations flitted throughout my body, urging it to flee, but I couldn’t move though I so desperately wanted to run.

Slowly, hesitantly, Mom’s fingers pulled the empty right page over to cover the left, exposing a new set of virgin puzzles. We both stared at the blank page. Finally, Mom dropped the book on her leg and reached across to pick up her empty tea cup, hand shaking as she brought it to her lips. She savoured the nonexistent brew for a long moment before setting it carefully down. I could have escaped then but I didn’t. I simply watched Mom take her extended, make-belief sip though I could clearly see from my vantage point that the cup was empty, but I didn’t move. In fact, my body even rolled toward Mom so when she sank back, my thigh was even further ensconced underneath hers and the fleshy part of her buttock now pressed into my groin.

Mom started filling in the puzzle on the right side of the page, uncharacteristically leaving the left one undone. Her fingers squiggled, moving the pencil rapidly up and down the rows and columns as she completed the easier clues so well known to her. My eyes lifted from the page and gazed blankly toward my father who, at this particular moment, was watching the TV, a book held open on his leg in his left hand. Would Mom show him what she had found and explain its significance in light of her discovery a few weeks ago?

I returned to watch Mom’s fingers drive the pencil across the page and suddenly became uncomfortably conscious of the warmth of her thigh and the soft press of her buttock. Somehow the thought of that pleasant feeling escaped my skull and dropped like a stone to the source of the sensations, causing it to expand. With pure and utter horror, my mind registered the tactile sensation of my burgeoning cock. It wasn’t swelling sufficiently to be noticed, at least not yet or so I hoped, but it was growing none the less. What had triggered this new feeling, at this awkward moment of all times? Well, the memory of my sister’s tits, as they had accidentally been presented to me on that day, bracketed by the open yellow blouse, had suddenly surged into my consciousness.

STOP, my mind screamed. Stay still!

But it didn’t. I gritted my teeth and pictured a ring of large sweaty men in leather harnesses laughing as they swung enormous hammers onto my swollen balls, stretched over a large anvil next to a roaring fire. WHAM, WHAM, WHAM. Nothing, no effect whatsoever. Instead, my cock shifted as it stiffened, seeking growing space like the little tyrant it was.

Mom’s fingers stopped, frozen with the pencil in the middle of forming a “G” at the begging of a word. Another uncontrolled flinch in response to a tingling sensation I couldn’t ignore prompted Mom’s fingers into motion, grasping the near edge of the page and pulling it over to the right, returning the book to the previous, unfinished, messy puzzle. Staring at those words again — tits, pussy, showme — caused another uninhibited flinch. My leg muscles tightened, already in receipt of the automatic commands from my brain before my conscious mind was aware, preparing to flee. Reacting to my own muscles before me, Mom’s hand slipped off the book and fell onto my tensed leg, its grip silently commanding me to stay. Only when my muscles relaxed did Mom’s hand release my leg and return to its former activity.

I stared helplessly at the words: tits, pussy, showme. The warmth of Mom’s body, the fear of what was to come, the threatening presence of my father, even though I couldn’t tear my eyes away to see if he had noticed the tension on the couch — all these things impinged on my senses but none could stop another forbidden flinch.

The pencil moved to a position under “showme”. It scribbled: “leave her alone.”

For the first time since I had started helping Mom with the puzzles, she turned to look at me. I nodded, slowly, in solemn affirmation. Mom nodded in return and turned back to the puzzle. I started to get up but Mom stopped me with a brief grip on my leg and the tension in my muscles abated. The page was turned and Mom began filling in the crossword again.

I alternated between watching Mom and looking at Dad but mostly I focused on Mom. I didn’t just watch her fingers scribble over the puzzle; I noticed how slender and feminine they were. I admired the crook of her neck where it wasn’t covered by the hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her throat pulsed gently with her breathing and my eyes descended until they registered the valley between the slight swells that yielded the first hints of the fruit filling the blouse below. My eyes explored further, past the first unsecured button and then the next where the bursting fullness confirmed that here sat a mature woman and not a mere girl.

Mom made a mistake, a rare event. She reversed the pencil and rubbed the tip across the page. It was a long word. Mom pressed the book tightly against her leg as she scrubbed the errant letters away, shaking the book and her leg, and mine below. Her bottom, by the laws of physics, wriggled, shooting blazing stars through my groin. I stifled a groan as my cock stiffened into full hardness, stretching into the remaining space in my jeans and bending outward when that was filled.

I knew my swollen member was pressing into the black material of Mom’s stretchy pants but there was nothing I could do. The letters were gone but Mom continued scrubbing. Finally, she stopped and, after a brief pause, pencilled in a new word and sighed in satisfaction as it meshed with several others crossing its path.

Mom continued with the puzzle. I had hoped my erection would subside but it didn’t. It was as rigid as ever but Mom paid it no notice that I could detect even though she must have felt its presence. She didn’t lift her soft buttock or acknowledge its impudent presence in any way.

Twice more, Mom made mistakes. This was unprecedented. Mom never made mistakes and she had made three on this puzzle alone, all on longer words. The prolonged scrubbing to remove the offending marks didn’t help my mental attempts to quell my swollen cock. Quite the opposite. I was now beyond worrying about its growth, or the rude announcement of its presence. There was nothing more it could do to attract additional attention except rub itself into Mom’s bum but that ability was beyond its control. That could only happen if I allowed it.

Despite myself, I did shift my weight a couple of times. They were small, involuntary movements but they increased the tingling sensations in my cock almost beyond control. Mom still didn’t react but a short time after the second one, she finished the puzzle and pulled the page back to reveal the previous one again. She stared at the offensive words for half a minute before writing below her own words, “leave her alone”, adding “PROMISE” in capital letters in an empty seven-letter slot. She turned to look at me and I nodded immediately. The puzzle was covered again.

“Well,” Mom said, drawing Dad’s attention. “Your sister will be home in a few weeks. We’ll have to plan a proper reception for her.”

“She’s just left,” Dad said, seemingly annoyed at the interruption. “What brought that on?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I was just thinking about her and hoping everything is going well. I just want everything to be perfect for her when she comes home. It must be so stressful going to college and I want her time at home to be as relaxing as it can be.”

Chapter 2 »